by Alan David
‘I’ve thought a lot about it,’ Lobo replied. ‘I’ll take it. I’m willing to be a deputy. I want to see Ridge brought down for what he’s done to the Staddens.’
‘You’ll get your chance at that,’ said Gruber. He took a star out of a desk drawer, and after swearing Lobo into office, flicked the shiny emblem of the law into Lobo’s ready hand. Lobo pinned the badge to his vest front. He nodded to himself, and an undefinable emotion thrilled him deeply. He looked down at the star, then at Gruber.
‘Now what?’ he asked.
‘This,’ said Gruber picking up a paper from his desk, ‘is an order from the Judge for Reuben Ridge to appear in court to attend the inquests on his riders and an inquiry into the death of the Staddens. Do you think you can deliver this into Ridge’s hands?’
‘I’ll sure as hell try,’ Lobo said, reaching for the papers. He scanned the writing on it. ‘The enquiry is for Wednesday. That’s tomorrow. Sure. I’ll ride out now and call on Ridge.’
‘It won’t be as easy as that,’ growled Barr. ‘I’ve tried several times to get in to see Ridge. He’s got too many riders on his payroll. You won’t get to him.’
‘I won’t lose anything trying,’ said Lobo. ‘Can you give me directions how to reach Ridge’s headquarters?’
‘I’ll do better than that,’ Gruber told him. ‘Olly can ride with you to Ridge’s boundary. Just deliver the order to Ridge, then come on back to town.’
‘I don’t think we’ll ever see you alive again, Johnson,’ said Barr.
Olly filled Lobo with a wealth of detail concerning Pommel and its inhabitants on the four-hour ride to the nearest Ridge fence. The young deputy had a great admiration for Lobo’s gun artistry, and told Lobo he wanted to become the fastest gun in the county.
‘How did you perfect your draw, Ben?’
‘It’s something I’ve always had, Olly. Some men are unlucky. They’re born with it.’ Lobo shook his head sadly. ‘I’m one of them.’
‘Unlucky! I’d give my left arm just to be the fastest.’
‘There’s no such thing as the fastest. Maybe you would be for a time. But one day a fellow would ride in to try your speed, and you’d find that you’re slower than he. Then they’d bury you. It’s come to them all, even the greatest. You’re in the wrong business, kid, if you want to see old age.’
‘It’s better than punching cows,’ Olly retorted. ‘The pay is better, and there’s a lot of excitement at times. I think it’s just the life. I hope to be sheriff of Pommel some day. I practise my draw every morning, so I’ll be ready to take over when Gruber hangs up his guns.’
‘I wish I could give you the benefit of my experience,’ Lobo said. ‘I wish I was your age again. I know which trail I’d take.’
‘You’ll never take a worse trail than the one you’re following now. Barr is right, you know. They’ll kill you on Ridge range and leave your carcass for the coyotes. There’s the fence. I’ll stay on this side. Do you want me to wait for you to show again?’
‘No. You may have a long wait.’ Lobo laughed. ‘Go back to Pommel. How far is it from this fence to Ridge’s headquarters?’
‘I’d say two hours’ ride. He’s got his buildings built in a big basin. You can’t see them until you overlook the hole. If the trail from the gate there didn’t lead straight to the place you wouldn’t ever find it.’
‘I’ll follow the trail then.’ Lobo rode to the gate, bent and unfastened it, and thrust it open with his foot. He rode through, allowed the gate to swing shut, and refastened it.
‘Hold it a minute,’ Olly said. ‘There are two riders coming this way. We’d better stick together in case they want trouble.’
Lobo kneed his mount around. He watched two riders coming at a gallop towards the gate. His fingers eased his Colts in their holsters.
‘Don’t buy into anything unless they start trouble, or look like shooting,’ Lobo warned. ‘Let me hear what they’ve got to say. These’ll be some of Ridge’s prowler guards I guess.’
The newcomers slowed and halted their mounts a dozen feet from the immobile Lobo backed against the gate.
‘Couldn’t you read that notice nailed on the gate?’ snarled one of the men.
Lobo jerked a thumb at the silver deputy badge pinned on his chest. He pushed the tip of his tongue between his dusty lips before he grinned fleetingly.
‘Can you see this badge, mister? If you don’t know what it is, I’ll tell you. It’s a deputy sheriff’s star, which means the wearer is a lawman. I’m a lawman, and this badge carries more weight than your notice.’
‘Lawman!’ The two gunnies exchanged amused glances. ‘There ain’t no law on Ridge range except what a man carries in his holster. I hear they’ve got law of some sorts down in Pommel, but it don’t amount to much.’
‘It didn’t,’ snapped Lobo, ‘because a crippled sheriff don’t get around much. But I ain’t lame.’
‘Not yet,’ chuckled the other gunnies. ‘But you’re pushing your luck a long way.’
‘A fool would think so,’ Lobo replied quickly. ‘But I ain’t a fool. The only thing I’m pushing is my bronc, and that’s heading for Ridge headquarters. I’ve got a court order for Reuben Ridge.’
‘You’ve got just five seconds to get back on the other side of the gate, where your wiser pard is sitting. We’ve got a job to do, in case you didn’t know. We shoot trespassers on sight.’
‘Well I ain’t a trespasser. I’m a lawman executing his duty. Now if you’ll get off the trail I’ll ride on to the ranch house.’
‘You ain’t going anywhere.’ The gunman’s voice lost its veneer of amusement. Viciousness flooded his face and his lips tightened. Lobo saw the convulsive crooking of the fingers of the man’s gun hand. He knew the signs and waited.
‘I would remind you,’ he drawled, ‘that it’s against the law to obstruct a lawman doing his duty.’
‘You’ve got too much sass, lawman. Get off Ridge range or I’ll bore you.’
‘You’re boring me now with your tough talk,’ Lobo said evenly.
‘Well slap leather,’ the gunman yelled. He swung his horse around and drew his Colt, levelling the weapon across his saddle.
Lobo snaked his right-hand Colt upwards and the gun crackled and spurted orange flame. His bullet smashed the gunman’s hand, and blood splashed as the unfired sixgun fell to the ground. The gunman uttered a cry of pain and gripped his smashed hand, hunching in the saddle and groaning in agony.
Lobo lifted his muzzle and covered the other gunman, who sat stupefied by the turn of events. The man made a half-hearted attempt to touch his butts.
‘Don’t try it, unless you’re tired of living,’ Lobo commanded. ‘I’m through warning boys that it’s dangerous to play men’s games. Any more shooting by me will be for keeps. Sit very still and don’t do anything with your hands. I’m a little short of patience right now.’
Behind Lobo, Olly was making excited noises, almost as shocked by Lobo’s inspired gunplay as Ridge’s men. The wounded gunman was cursing profusely, trying to staunch the bleeding of his shattered hand.
‘You’re not still going on to Ridge’s place, are you?’ There was awe in Olly’s voice as he came through the gate.
‘I am. I ain’t seen the big man yet. You don’t think these two can scare me off, do you? Go take their guns, and shake ‘em down for hideout weapons. I’ll take that other one on to Ridge’s place. I feel like a little company. Can you manage that sick hombre back to Pommel?’
‘I can,’ Olly replied. ‘He ain’t in the mind for playing any more games. If you’re set on going all the way to Ridge’s place then you’d better get moving, Ben, or it’ll be dark before you shake the dust of this range off your hooves again. Good luck.’
‘Be seeing you, Olly. So long.’ Lobo waved his Colt at the now disarmed uninjured gunman. ‘Get moving, feller. We’re going to see your boss.’
‘You won’t live long enough to see him,’ the gunman snarled.
&nb
sp; ‘Let me worry about that.’ Lobo motioned for him to ride on in front. The man took off at a canter, following the trail that led eventually to Ridge’s headquarters. Lobo holstered his Colt. He knew his prisoner wouldn’t try to escape, especially after Lobo’s exhibition of gun skill.
‘How much further to the house?’ Lobo asked when he judged that they had covered twelve miles.
‘You’ll never live to see it,’ the man replied.
Before Lobo could ask why, a series of shots crackled. They were all well spaced, and obviously not aimed at anyone.
‘Is that a signal of some sort?’ he asked.
‘Yeah. What are you going to do about it?’
‘Keep going.’ Lobo eased his 30-30 out of saddle leather. ‘Just remember. The first slug out of this rifle will split your spine. So don’t try anything stupid when we reach the house.’
The trail declined tortuously into a great natural basin. In the midde distance, occupying a square of high ground, stood a large, well built house, white and gleaming in the sunlight. Trees had been planted around the building to trap shade.
Lobo studied the house, noting the huge pillars of white stone that held an impressive arch over the big front door. What a place to call home, he thought. Ridge must be worth a fortune. What, he wondered, compelled a man to go on grasping for power and wealth when he had more than sufficient already.
Hatred for Ridge was borne in Lobo from that moment. Ridge was a badman from choice, and because he was rich, there was no price on his head. He could do things with impunity that lesser men would hang for. Lobo thought of his own past, of the little things he had done which had increased the price on his head and made him worse than a hunted animal. His lips curled.
‘I’ll bring you down, Ridge,’ he promised. ‘You’ll eat dust before I’m through.’
Movement attracted his glinting eyes. A party of riders was coming towards him from the corrals. He counted seven riders and his lips thinned.
‘You’re in trouble now, Mister Deppidy,’ the gunman snarled. ‘They’re coming because they didn’t hear an answer to the signal fired by the guard in the big tree on that ridge.’
‘Well that makes two of us in trouble,’ Lobo retorted. ‘If you as much as breathe any faster I’ll ventilate you. So sit your horse and stay quiet.’
The riders drew in, recognising Lobo’s captive as one of their members. But they didn’t know Lobo. Their faces showed suspicion, but Lobo noted with satisfaction that none of them held a gun. They reined in with dust rising a few feet in front of Lobo.
‘You run out of cartridges?’ demanded the foremost of the gunmen. ‘You’ve been on the payroll long enough to know you’ve got to reply to the signal. We’ve had this ride out for nothing.’
‘Then you must be blind,’ retorted Lobo’s captive. ‘Can’t you see my holsters are empty? Have you missed the law badge this hombre’s wearing?’ The man spoke in disgust. ‘He’s got his rifle on you, and none of you has his hand on a gun. Buck Page will be pleased to hear about this.’
‘How did he get past you at the gate?’
‘He plugged Conders from an even break, and sent him back to Pommel under arrest. He’s on his way now to see the boss, with a court order for something or other.’
‘That’s right,’ said Lobo. ‘Anyone got any objections?’
‘You fit the description of the man who killed the Ridge riders yesterday,’ one of the gunmen said.
‘I’ve been told I look like Santa Claus, but that don’t prove anything. I’m a deputy sheriff on lawful duty so you’d do well to get out of my path and keep your hands off your guns. I’m likely to act a little nervous with so many ugly faces crowding me, and nervousness always sends a twitch through my trigger finger.’
‘We’ve been told to stop everyone approaching the house.’
‘Well I’m different. Anyway, you’ve stopped me. Now get out of my way. I’ve got business with your boss.’
There was a long silence. The riders sat watching Lobo, noting his steady blue eyes and unwavering rifle barrel, and to each man it seemed that the black muzzle was gaping directly at him. In the silence the click of Lobo’s hammer being pulled back sounded ominous.
‘You’re obstructing,’ Lobo warned. He pointed the rifle at the nearest rider. ‘Move off the trail, hombre. In five seconds I start shooting.’
The man in question looked quickly around at his pards, but none spoke, no one was prepared to take a bullet from this hard-eyed deputy sheriff who showed no emotion in facing them down.
The crack of Lobo’s rifle smacked the silence and the bullet plucked at the nearest rider’s hat, whipping it off the man’s head and thrusting it into the face of the man behind. Horses pranced and moved restlessly. Lobo reloaded before anyone could move.
‘The next one will be three inches lower,’ he said calmly. ‘When I say move I mean it. Clear the trail. Get on back to your bunkhouse before martial law is declared. Ride out, and move fast.’
The hatless rider was first to move. He cursed as he swung his mount. The others followed silently, and not one of them turned to look at the solitary lawman. Lobo’s captive made as if to follow his companions. But Lobo called him back.
‘Not you. You’re under arrest for obstructing. You’re going back to Pommel with me to spend the night in jail. Now ride on and go slow. Ride to the house.’
Lobo fell in behind his prisoner. They rode slowly over the last mile to the big house. Something like elation flowed through Pommel’s latest deputy. He could still handle men, he thought. But he knew Reuben Ridge would prove a different matter.
Chapter Five
AS LOBO NEARED the deeply shadowed porch of the great house his eyes flickered over the building, taking in every sumptuous detail. Lobo reined in at a hitch rail. He turned to his prisoner.
‘You can get down. Stay here by the horses. If you try to get away I’ll shoot you. That’s a warning.’
Lobo dismounted stiffly and looked across at the seven riders he had bested. They were standing around watching the house, hoping, he guessed, that Buck Page would be able to take him down a peg. But he doubted that. Buck Page was very fast with a gun, Lobo remembered. He had seen the soft-voiced gunman in action. But Lobo, knowing they were closely matched for speed, believed he had the edge on Page.
They had been fairly good pards in the old days, and Page the man was good. Page the gunman was an enigma. He wasn’t a cold-blooded killer. When Page fought he did it to rules. He would not take an advantage if it was unfair. There had been a lot of gentleness in Buck Page in the old days.
Lobo stepped up on to the porch. He paused and looked round. There was an air of peacefulness in the basin, but it was a false atmosphere, he thought.
He turned to the door of the house, which stood open, and hammered upon it with his fist. He looked inside and saw a highly polished wooden floor covered here and there with thick carpets. He had a glimpse of a richly ornate chandelier hanging above the foot of a broad sweep of dark wood stairs leading to the upper rooms of the house.
He repeated his knock and waited. Presently he heard footsteps somewhere deep in the house. He waited, whistling soundlessly through his clenched teeth. A young girl wearing a light blue dress came forward. She paused near the stairs and looked at him, then turned her back and ascended the stairs. Lobo grimaced. If that was a sample of Ridge hospitality then this wouldn’t be a very pleasant visit. He knocked again.
A man dressed in a store suit appeared. He was tall and whitefaced, looking as if he had never been out in the sun. Lobo stared critically. This was the notorious Buck Page, looking just about the same as Lobo remembered him from ten years back.
‘Lobo Johnson,’ Buck Page ejaculated in his quiet voice. ‘What are you doing in this neck of the woods? You haven’t changed much in the last ten years. Still on the run?’
‘Howdy, Buck. You ain’t changed much neither. I heard tell awhile back that some kid had beaten you to it and you�
��d cashed in. No truth to that though, I can see.’
Page spread his hands. His keen eyes travelled over Lobo, taking in every detail of the very tall, dusty, ominous looking caller. He pointed a finger at the star Lobo was toting.
‘Is that some kind of a joke, Lobo?’
‘No. I got the job this morning. They wanted someone fast enough to hunt down a mean hombre by the name of Lobo Johnson. I think I might just have the edge on him.’ Lobo grinned. ‘I want to see Ridge. It’s law business.’
‘Makes a change for you.’ Page laughed softly. ‘Only a fool or Lobo Johnson would ride on to Ridge range wearing a law badge. I heard yesterday that we lost a few riders to some gun wizard. From the description I was give I figured it might be you handing it out. I told my boys to lay off you. Did you have any trouble getting through the gate?’
‘Nothing to mention. I could handle it. I sent one of your riders back into Pommel under arrest for obstructing me. The fool tried to draw on me. The other hombre over there by the horses is another one. He’s going back with me. What’s the matter, Buck, can’t you control your gunnies?’
‘They’re a little wild, Lobo. But that’s how they should be. We’ve had a rough time of it lately. People aren’t honest like they were a few years ago.’
‘You don’t look as if you do much riding.’
‘No. I have other duties. As I’m Number One gun in this outfit l have the unenviable job of guarding Ridge’s daughter Ginny.’
‘Unenviable?’ Lobo smiled. ‘I take it she was the filly wearing the blue dress who just went up those stairs. I don’t see you’ve got any cause for complaint, Buck.’
‘You know women,’ Page replied.
‘Now where do I see Ridge? I can’t afford to waste any time. I’ve got a long ride back to Pommel, and I want to be clear of Ridge range before sundown.’
‘That’s being wise. Come on in and I’ll take you to Ridge. I’ve told him all about you, guessing it was you who did the shooting yesterday. He’ll offer you a job for sure. We can always use another fast gun on this range.’
