by Alan David
The gunman angled to the right. Lobo rode for the wide stone steps and reined in. He sat with his right hand at his hip. The man on the porch got up and came forward with the rifle held across his body, the muzzle pointing at his boots.
‘Is Buck Page here?’
‘He’s not here. Rode for Pommel two hours ago.’
‘Alone?’
‘No. He took six riders with him.’
‘Then I’ll see Ridge. Is he here?’
‘He is. But I’ve got orders that no one is to see Ridge.’
‘Well I’m not no one. I’m Lobo Johnson, deputy sheriff from Pommel. If you figure on stopping me from seeing Ridge you’d better get that rifle working.’
The man hesitated. Lobo saw a shadow of fear cross his face, and smiled inwardly.
‘It was Page’s order,’ the man said at length. ‘If he wants to tangle with you then that’s his business. But I’m not going to commit suicide.’
‘Then drop that rifle and your gunbelt. Leave them lying and go over to the bunkhouse and stay there until I’ve ridden off. Move out.’
Lobo’s lips pulled back into a savage grin when the man dropped his weapons and began walking slowly towards the bunkhouse. This had happened many times before when he had thrown a challenge to someone who knew of his reputation. These two-bit gunmen were never keen to face up to a real out and out badman.
Lobo dismounted and strode up the steps. He paused and thrust open the big front door. The interior of the house was as silent as the open range. He looked at his prisoner still sitting his mount quietly at the hitchrail. The man caught his eye and looked away. He looked into the house again.
‘Ridge,’ he shouted, and listened to his voice echoing through the house. ‘Ridge, this is Lobo Johnson. Come on out here to me.’
Lobo waited silently for several moments, his eyes flickering around the yard for signs of Page’s men moving in to tackle him. But everywhere was silent and still. Then he heard footsteps from somewhere inside the house, and he drew his right hand gun. Reuben Ridge appeared from a room. The big rancher came towards Lobo with quick, nervous steps. Lobo was shocked by the rancher’s appearance. Ridge had been sleeping in his clothes. His thickly fleshed face, with its many creases and wrinkles and puffy fat pouches under the eyes, was covered with a sparse greying stubble, and Ridge’s eyes were bloodshot and tired.
‘We’re getting out of here,’ Lobo said. ‘Come on, before some of these gunmen get organised.’
‘Page has taken Ginny off,’ Ridge gasped. ‘He’s been holding me prisoner.’
‘I know all about that, but we can’t do anything now. Let’s get out of here. There’s a rifle and a pistol down there. Pick them up and be prepared to use them.’
Ridge was gasping, breathing stertorously through his mouth. He grunted as he bent to pick up the guns. Lobo crossed the porch and swung into his saddle. A quick glance across at the bunkhouse showed him half a dozen men standing at the door. He swung to his prisoner.
‘Ride in close,’ he commanded. He still held his Colt in his hand. The gunman came near. ‘Now get down and get to hell out of here. I want your horse. I shan’t forget your face, and if I ever see you again I’ll take you in.’
The gunman dismounted and Lobo grabbed the trailing reins of the mount.
‘Come on, Ridge, climb into the saddle and let’s get out of this before they start shooting.’
‘I haven’t ridden a horse inside of twenty years,’ the big rancher protested.
‘You can stay here if you like,’ Lobo said flatly. ‘But don’t forget your daughter. We’ve got to make a start somewhere. I’ll get you into Pommel, then go out after Ginny. But it’s no use getting your daughter back if Page still has you.’
Sweat poured down Ridge’s face as he tried to haul himself into the saddle. The horse pulled away when it felt the rancher’s great weight. Lobo cursed and swung down, holstering his gun. He heaved at Ridge, cursing loudly until the big man sat leather and had grabbed the reins.
Lobo regained his own saddle with a lithe bound, and as he swung his mount he looked at the assembled gunmen. They were still standing quietly in front of the bunkhouse.
‘Let’s ride,’ Lobo said, and spurred his mount. Ridge bounced up and down in his saddle as they rode out of the yard. Lobo kept close watch on the immobile gunmen until they had put a considerable distance between themselves and the ranch.
‘Any idea where Page has taken Ginny?’ Lobo asked, when they had pulled their horses down to a trot.
‘No.’ Ridge shook his head. He spoke through clenched teeth. ‘He said he’d keep her prisoner until I signed over more than half the ranch to him. All this happened when we got back home from the court. Page accused Ginny of making up to you, and demanded that she agreed at once to marry him. I told him I would not let her throw herself away on him, and she made it more than clear that she didn’t want him. Then I told him I was going to fire most of the gunmen and just keep cow punchers. He drew on me, made me a prisoner, and took Ginny. I wouldn’t sign any part of the ranch over to him, because I knew he would kill me the moment I did so.’
‘He’s gone into Pommel now,’ Lobo said. ‘I was on my way out to tell him to ride in and see Gruber. The sheriff is ready to slap him behind bars for killing the injured prisoner we had in the cells. Someone shot him through the head while we were in court.’
‘Page’ll have to be stopped, Lobo.’ Ridge cursed as he tried to ease himself in the saddle. ‘My God, this ride is killing me. Do you think he’ll harm Ginny?’
‘Not if Gruber slaps him in jail as soon as he rides into town. He sent three riders last night to tear down the fence between your ranch and the Stadden spread. A herd of your beeves is on Stadden range now.’
‘I know nothing about that,’ Ridge wheezed. ‘Everything is out of my hands. I’ve lost control. But when I get to Pommel I’m going to hire another crew.’
‘Now you’re talking.’ Lobo kept turning in his saddle to survey their back trail. ‘A lot of blood has been spilt on your account. It’s about time you started cleaning up.’
‘I can’t put life back into dead men,’ Ridge said, ‘but I’ll make amends. I’ll do all I can to put things straight. Wait until I get into town.’
Chapter Twelve
IT WANTED TWO hours to sundown when Lobo and Ridge entered Pommel. Lobo led the way down the centre of the street. Ridge was swaying wearily in his saddle.
‘I want nothing more than to lie down,’ the fat rancher said. ‘Get me into the hotel, Johnson. I’m exhausted.’
‘We’re going to see Gruber first.’ Lobo grinned with stiff lips. ‘You are going to swear out a complaint against Buck Page. Then we’ve got to get your daughter back. Or are you more concerned with your own comfort.’
‘No. Let’s see Gruber. But make it quick.’
‘You’d better stay in jail.’ Lobo looked along the street. He was struck by the excitement that obviously gripped these townsfolk in the sidewalks. He wondered if Page had pulled something else upon his arrival in town. ‘If Page finds out you’re no longer a prisoner on the Big R he’ll figure you’re of no further use to him and have you cut down.’
They reined in at the hitchrail outside the law office, and Lobo had to drag Ridge out of the saddle. The rancher tottered when his feet were on the ground. He grabbed Lobo to prevent himself from falling and Lobo staggered under the man’s immense weight.
Lobo noticed that the townsfolk along the sidewalks were converging on the sheriff’s office. He wondered if Page had been arrested when he rode into Pommel two hours earlier. Something big had happened. It was obvious by the excitement which gripped the crowd.
The door of the office was jerked open and Barr emerged. The big deputy was holding a levelled shotgun, and his face was suffused with anger.
‘Throw them up, Johnson,’ he grated. ‘Don’t do anything with your hands or you’ll get both barrels.’
‘What in hell is this in ai
d of?’ Lobo demanded. ‘Don’t you know you shouldn’t be fooling around with guns, Barr? They’re dangerous.’
‘Just reach for a gun and see if I’m fooling, Johnson. Raise your hands and keep them high.’
Lobo lifted his hands. Barr circled him and lifted Lobo’s Colts from their open holsters. Weariness descended upon Lobo when the weight of his weapons was lifted from his hips. He could guess what had happened. His face hardened. Barr poked him in the back with the muzzle of the shotgun. Lobo stepped into the office. Ridge followed, muttering in his surprise. Barr entered and slammed the door against the gathering crowd.
Gruber sat at his desk. The old lawman looked tired and woebegone. His eyes met Lobo’s, and flickered away. He picked up a wanted notice from his desk and studied it.
‘So you’re the great Lobo Johnson,’ ejaculated Barr. ‘Take off that star.’
Lobo removed the badge from his coat and tossed it on to the desk. It lay upon his picture on the dodger under Gruber’s hand.
‘I always say let sleeping dogs lie,’ Lobo said softly. ‘I’ve done no wrong here. In fact I’ve risked my life more than once for the law, and I’ve accomplished more since I’ve been here than this office has done since Page hit this range.’
‘You’re an outlaw,’ Barr said flatly. ‘There’s a price on your head. We’re going to lock you up.’
‘What about Page? He came to Pommel, didn’t he?’
‘He did,’ Gruber said slowly. ‘He came in here with this dodger. He turned you in. Then we arrested him and put him in the cells. An hour ago, while Barr and I were along the street, three of his gunnies came in here, shot Olly and took Page out.’
‘Is Olly dead?’
‘He is. They never gave him a chance. He was shot in the back.’
Lobo slowly shook his head in disbelief. Young Olly murdered. The youngster who had hoped that one day he would become the sheriff of Pommel. Olly had envied Lobo his gun skill. Now he was dead.
‘Gruber, let me go after Page,’ Lobo said. ‘I’ll come back and lock myself in jail afterwards. But let me ride out now.’
‘You’re not going anywhere,’ Barr said. ‘There’s a fifteen hundred dollar reward for you.’
‘So you want the money,’ Lobo snarled. ‘It doesn’t matter to you that Olly, your pardner, has been shot down in cold blood. It would be more to your credit if you’d gone out after Page.’
‘Olly’s dead, and getting myself killed as well won’t solve anything. Page is too good for me and I know it. I’m only a deputy sheriff. Now undo your gunbelts. You don’t need them any more. Shall I lock him up, sheriff?’
‘Don’t do a fool thing like that, Gruber,’ Ridge wheezed. ‘Johnson’s the best man you’ve ever had wearing a star, outlaw or not. Give him back his guns and let him go after Page. He’s the only man in this county who would offer to go, and the only one who would have a chance from an even break. Page has kept me prisoner in my home since yesterday, and has taken my daughter off somewhere to use her as a lever against me. He’s after control of the Big R and he doesn’t care how he gets it. My life will be in danger when he finds that Johnson has got me away from the Big R.’
‘We’ve already wired the sheriff of Dry Ford County, telling him we’d got you,’ said Barr. ‘He’ll send a deputy for you within a week. You’ve come to the end of your trail, Johnson.’
‘Has Stella Stadden showed up in town?’ Lobo asked. ‘I left her heading this way at sunup this morning.’
‘I’ve seen her about today,’ said Barr.
‘I killed two of Page’s gunmen out at her place last night.’ Lobo spoke in matter-of-fact tones. ‘Someone tore down Ridge’s fence, and a large herd of his cattle is wandering on Stadden range.’
‘It’s Page’s work, sheriff,’ Ridge said quickly. ‘I’ve been turned out of my home. I daren’t go back now. Page’s men will shoot me on sight. You’ve got to do something. There’s no telling what will happen to my daughter.’
‘You brought all this trouble on to yourself and us,’ said Gruber. ‘This is all your fault, Ridge. Now we’ve got to do the dirty work.’
‘A man can only do what he figures is the right thing,’ Ridge retorted. ‘You will be doing what you think is right when you lock up Lobo. But I can see that it is the wrong thing. Lobo Johnson is the only man you’ve got who can stand up to Page and his gunmen.’
‘The law’s the law,’ said Gruber. He looked at Lobo. ‘I’m sorry about this, real sorry. But there’s nothing I can do. You’re an outlaw with a price on your head. I’ve got to put you behind bars. I’d like to see you take Page, but it’s out of the question.’
‘All right. That’s your business. But do me a favour. Let me see Stella Stadden.’
‘I’ll get word to her, Lobo,’ Ridge promised. ‘I’ll look her up after I’ve made my complaint about Page. Don’t worry about anything.’
Lobo nodded. He watched Barr pick up the cell keys. He sighed in resignation.
‘You know the way,’ Barr said.
Lobo went into the cell block. Barr had discarded the shotgun for his sixgun, and Lobo stood silent while the deputy unlocked the cell. Then he entered and sat down on the bunk. Barr relocked the door, holstered his gun and went back into the office.
Lobo stretched himself out on the bunk and laced his fingers behind his head. He relaxed with a sigh. In an instant all his planning and scheming had become useless.
At sundown Barr came in and lit a lamp that hung in the passage between the cells. He left again without speaking. Lobo sat up. He had been dozing for an hour, and now he felt mentally refreshed. He had nothing to plan now. If he didn’t go to prison for the rest of his life — and the only way of avoiding that was to break out of jail — then he would look for Page to face the gunman through smoke. Page would be easy to find. Beyond that there was nothing to occupy his mind.
The noisy opening of the office door attracted Lobo’s attention. Barr came in leading Stella. The deputy stood aside and let the girl enter. Then he went out and shut the door. Stella came slowly to the cell door.
‘Oh, Lobo, this is what I’ve been dreading.’ Her face was pale, her eyes wide and tear filled. She clutched at his hands through the bars. ‘I’ve been pleading with Gruber to free you, but he won’t even listen. After all you’ve done for this town!’
‘You could have saved your breath.’ He smiled sadly. ‘I knew this had to come one day. I’ve had a good run. Nearly twenty years along the owlhoot trail. What an existence it’s been. Now I shall spend the rest of my life in jail.’
Stella looked round at the door leading into the office. It was closed. She drew a small double barrelled derringer from her pocket and held it out. Lobo took the weapon quickly and dropped it into his coat pocket. He bared his teeth in a grin.
‘I wouldn’t dream of doing this ordinarily,’ Stella said softly. ‘But you’ve risked your life for Pommel. You wouldn’t be in here now if you hadn’t stopped off to help us all. Don’t kill anyone with that thing. In here, I mean. But if it will help you persuade them to let you go then use it.’
‘I’m not a killer,’ he told her quickly. ‘But it will get me out of here. Then I’m going after Page. Can you check on my horse for me? I left it outside the jail. I expect it’s been taken to the livery barn. If you can get the mount saddled and hitched to the last rail on this side of the street on the west side of town I’ll be able to make a run for it. Can you do that?’
‘I’ll do it. And if I can’t get your horse I’ll bring mine. When do you plan on leaving?’
‘I must know my horse is in place first,’ he told her. ‘You could sneak around to the back of the jail and wave to me through the window when you’ve done it. Will you do that?’
‘Yes. I’d better go now. Be careful when you make your try.’
‘I’ll be all right. And you’d better keep away from this office afterwards. Barr will guess that you slipped me the gun.’
She nodded, pressed
his hands through the bars and went out.
Lobo sat down and leaned his back against the bars that partitioned his cell from the next. Relief swelled large in his breast. He put his hand into his pocket and caressed the small weapon Stella had given him. This made everything all right. His quick mind leaped over many possibilities of escape. But he decided to wait until Barr came into the cell block, and he would ensure that the deputy had the cell keys on him before making his bid for freedom.
A noise in the darkness at the back of the jail attracted him. He stood up and walked to the rear end of his cell. The darkness outside seemed to part as the white blur of a face came close to the window. Lobo’s eyes widened with swift awareness when he saw the face out there was not Stella’s but a stubbly male countenance whose eyes were filled with the lust to kill.
A big blue-steeled Colt was thrust almost into his face, and Lobo threw himself sideways as the weapon belched orange flame. The heavy report of the shot crashed out. The flash nearly blinded him. The heavy slug screeched past his head so close it almost burned him. He landed heavily on his left shoulder, his eyes never leaving the window.
The gun came through the broken pane of glass and the muzzle was depressed to point at Lobo. He could see the knuckle of the trigger finger whitening as the trigger was squeezed. Sweat broke out on his forehead. He rolled desperately as the gun flashed and roared. He hunched himself into a corner and lay still, and his mind instinctively counted the shots that rocked the jail. The biting smell of cordite filled his nostrils.
Four shots thundered in the close confines of the cell. Lobo heard the first two bullets smack the floor at his side and buzz away angrily in ricochet. The third shot burned his left shoulder, struck the floor and then zoomed off at a tangent. He felt its numbing bite in his right leg. Pain flooded him. Then the fourth bullet punched through his left shoulder with a meaty thud. His senses swam and his head bumped against the bars set into the hard ground.
