L'Amour, Louis - SSC 32

by The Collected Short Stories Vol 3

  “Sonora?” I asked.

  “He’ll be all right. He’d been shot twice. You men! You’re both so big! I don’t see how any bullet could ever kill you!”

  Me, I was thinkin’ it might not take a bullet, but a rope. Kinsella got me once, low down on the side. Just a flesh wound, but from what Jack told me, it must’ve bled like all get-out.

  When it was later, Ruthie got up and put her sewin’ away; then she went into another room and to sleep. I give her an hour, as close as I could figger. Then I rolled back the blanket and got my feet under me. I was some weak, but it takes a lot of lead to ballast down an hombre big as me. Softly, I opened the door. Ruthie was lyin’ on a pallet, asleep.

  Me, I blushes, seein’ her that way, her hair all over the pillow like a lot of golden web caught in the moonlight. Easy as could be, I slipped by. Sonora’s door was open, and he was lyin’ in Jack’s bed, a chair under his feet to make it long enough. Well, there he was, the hombre that meant my ranch to me.

  I’d strapped on my guns, but as I stood there lookin’ down, I figgered it was a wonder he hadn’t shot it out already. That reward was dead or alive. Suddenly, I almost jumped out of my skin. Only one o’ them big Walker Colts was in its holster! Why, that durned coyote! Lyin’ there with a gun under the blanket, and the chances was he was awake that minute. Hell! I’d go back to bed! It never did a man no good to run from the law, not even in the wild country! Soon or late, she always caught up with him.

  In the mornin’, I’d just finished splashin’ water on my face when I looked up and he was leanin’ again’ the door post. “Howdy,” he said, grinnin’. “Sleep well?”

  My face burned. “Well as you did, you’ durned possumplayin’ maverick!”

  He grinned. “Man in my place can’t be too careful.”

  He looked at me. “Ready to ride, or is it a showdown?” Sonora had his guns on, and there was a quizzical light in those funny eyes o’ his’n. He was a big man, big as me, and the only man I ever saw I’d ride with.

  “Hell,” I said, “ain’t you’ goin’ to eat breaf’st? I’ll ride with you because you’re too good a man to kill!”

  Ruthie was puttin’ food on the table, and she looked at us queerly. “What’s between you two?” she asked quicklike.

  “Why, Ruthie,” I said, “this here hombre’s a Texas ranger. He figgers I’m the hombre what robbed that bank over to Pierce!”

  She stared at me. “Then you’re a prisoner?”

  “Ma’am,” Sonora said, gulpin’ a big swaller o’ hot coffee, “don’t you fret none. I reckon he ain’t no crook. Just had a minute or two o’ bein’ a durned fool! I reckon that bank’s plumb anxious to git their money back, and I know this hombre’s got it on him because last night,”he grinned, “when he was asleep, I had me a look at his money belt!”

  Before I could bust out and say anythin’, he adds, “I figger that bank’s goin’ to be so durned anxious to git their money back, they won’t fret too much when I suggest this hombre be sent back here, sort of on good behavior. I’d say he’d make a good hand around a layout like this.”

  Then I bust in. “Y’ got this all wrong, Sonora,” I told him. “Y’ been trailin’ the wrong man! Rather, you’ trailed the right man, and then when you’ walked into the Chuck Wagon, you’ took too much for granted.

  “I didn’t rob no bank. I’ll admit I got to thinkin’ about ownin’ a ranch, and I rode into town with the money in mind. Then I heard the shootin’ and lit out. The man who robbed the bank,” I said, “was Harvey Kinsella. I took the money belt off him. His name’s marked on it!”

  He stared at me. “Well, I’ll be durned!” he said. Ruthie was lookin’ at me, her eyes all bright and happy.

  “Man,” I was sayin’, “I figgered you fer the bandit, first off. I was figgerin’ on gittin’ you fer the reward, needin’ that money like I was fer a ranch.”

  “An’ I was tryin’ to decide if I should take you’ in or let you’ go!” Sonora shook his head. Ruthie smiled at me and then at him.

  “I’m going to try and fix it, Sonora,” she said, “so he’ll stay here. I think he’d be a good man around a ranch, some place where he could take a personal interest in things!” There was a tint o’ color in her skin.

  “Just what I think, ma’am.” Sonora shoved back his chair. I got up and handed him the money belt. “And Ruthie,” he continued, “if I was to ride by, you’ reckon it’d be all right to stop in?”

  She smiled as she filled my cup. “Of course, Sonora, and we’ll be mighty glad to see you!”

  SQUATTERS ON THE LONETREE

  Tanner was fastening the tailgate when Wiley Dunn saw him and started across the street. Algosa held its collective breath, for this was the first meeting between the owner of Hat and the nester who had squatted on Lonetree. For fifteen years Wiley Dunn and his hard-bitten Hat riders had ruled unchallenged over two hundred thousand acres of range, growing in wealth and power. Occasionally, ill-advised nesters had moved on Hat range, but the only nesters still there were buried. The others had departed hurriedly for parts as far away as possible.

  Tanner was the exception. He had squatted on a small, rugged corner with a lovely green meadow where there was plenty of both timber and water. Dunn was a square, powerful man who walked with quick, knee-jerking strides. That Tanner defied his power nettled him. He could see no sense in the man starting a fight he had no chance of winning.

  Tanner straightened as Dunn approached, and Dunn was startled to find his eyes piercingly black, although the nester’s hair was a faded rust color. Tanner had a lean body, slightly stooped.

  “Howdy, Dunn. Been aimin’ to see you. Some of your critters been watering down around Sandy Point and getting caught in quicksand. You ought to have your hands throw up a fence.”

  “Thanks.” Dunn was brusque. “Tanner, you have forty-eight hours to get off my range.”

  Tanner took a slow drag on his cigarette. “Now, Mr. Dunn, you know better than to tell me that. If I was fixin’ to leave at all I’d have been long gone. That place appeals to me, so we’re just a-stayin’ on.”

  “Don’t be a fool!” Dunn said impatiently. “You haven’t a chance! My cattle have been grazing that range for years, and we’re not about to give it up to some two-by-twice nester who comes driftin’ into the country. I’ve got forty tough cowhands, and if you persist, I’ll—“

  “You’ll get some of them hurt. Now look here, Mr. Dunn. You’ve got a sight of range out there, and it’s all government land. I’m not takin’ much of it, so you just leave me alone.”

  “Be reasonable!” Dunn was not anxious to fight. He had done his share of fighting. “You can’t make a living on that piece of ground.”

  “I aim to raise some shoats,” Tanner said, squinting against the sun. “Put me in a few acres of corn.” He indicated the sacks in the wagon. “Got my seed already.”

  “Hogs? This is beef country!”

  “So I figure to raise hogs. Folks like a mite of side meat, time to time.”

  “You get off that land in forty-eight hours.” Dunn was growing impatient. He was used to issuing ultimatums that were instantly obeyed, not to discussing them. He was also aware the whole town was watching.

  “Look, Mr. Dunn, my folks and I like that little place. We can be right neighborly, but we can also be a mite mean, if pressed.

  “We’ve got little to lose. You’ve got plenty. I don’t want a fight, but if you start it I won’t set and wait. I’ll come after you, Mr. Dunn. I’ll bring the fight to you.”

  Enraged, Dunn turned away, yet it was disappointment as much as anger. He had hoped there would be no fight, but if this man stayed, others would move in. None of them would make it and when they started to go hungry they would start killing his cattle. He had seen it happen before. Moreover, the man baffled him. Tanner should have been frightened or worried. He was neither.

  “Boss,” Ollie Herndon suggested, “let me take him? He’s askin’ for it.�
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  “No, no!” Dunn protested. “I won t have a man killed with his wife and children looking on.”

  “That’s his wife’s brother,” Turner said, “they’ve only been married a couple of years.”

  “You let me have him,” Herndon said. “He s too durned sure of hisself.”

  “Funny thing,” Turner commented, “this is the third time I’ve seen that wagon in town, but I’ve yet to see tracks comin’ from his place.”

  “What’s that mean?” Dunn demanded.

  “You figure it out, Boss. I surely can’t.”

  Despite his determination to rid himself of the nester, Dunn knew the man would be a hard nut to crack, and it would be apt to create quite a stir if there was a killing. And there could he. Tanner had built his house of stone right against the face of a limestone cliff in the sinall valley of the Lonetree, a place approachable only from the front. Tanner was reputed to be a dead shot. Yet there was a way—catch him in an open field.

  Hat made its try the following day. Eight riders slipped close under protection of the willows, then charged. Tanner was in plain sight in the open pasture, nothing near him for shelter but a few scattered rock piles, bushes, and trees.

  “Got him!” Ollie yelled triumphantly. “Now we’ll show him!”

  They rushed first to cut him off from the house, then swept down upon him. Only he was no longer there. Tanner had vanished like a puff of smoke, and then a rifle boomed. A horse went down, spilling his rider; another boom, and the hat was knocked from Ollie’s head. As the riders swirled past where they had seen Tanner they found nothing, absolutely nothing! It was unbelievable.

  The angry riders circled. “Shots came from those rocks,” one maintained.

  “No, it was from that clump of brush.”

  A rifle boomed from the house, and one of the horses started pitching wickedly. When the horse ceased bucking, a scattering of shots caused them to scatter in flight. Hastily, they hunted cover.

  “It ain’t possible!” Ollie protested. “We all seen him! Right out there in plain sight!”

  At daybreak the following morning, irritated by the report of the previous day’s events, Wiley Dunn was up pacing the floor. He walked around the wide veranda, and something caught his attention. Three large watermelons lay on the edge of the porch, beside them a sack of roasting ears.

  Pinned to the sack was a note: Figured these could go well with beef. Better keep your outfit to home. They got kind of carried away with their horses.

  Wiley Dunn swore bitterily, glaring at the melons. Sobering a little, he decided that did look mighty tasty. Ollie Herndon’s report worrying him. Dropped from sight, Ollie said. Obviously the mountain man had heen concealed in the brush, habit ivlii hadn’t they found him. Ollie was no pilgrim. He should have been able to smoke him out.

  Three days went by before they attacked again. Ollie led this one, too, and he took seven men. They rode to within a few hundred yards, then concealed their horses and approached on foot. They did not talk, and they heel waited until it was good and dark before they began their approach. They could see the lights in the cabin, and they started across the field through the grass, walking carefully. They were halfway across when Ollie suddenly tripped, staggered, and fell.

  Instantly a gun boomed. Flat on their faces in the grass, they lay cursing. That shot had been close, and it sounded like a shotgun. Ollie ran his fingers through the grass. “Wire!” he said with disgust. “A durned trip-wire!”

  He glanced up. The lights were gone. Ollie was furious. Tlt;gt; he tricked by a damned nester! He got to his feet and the others arose with him. Red moved closer to Ollie.

  “No way to get up there now. That ol’ catamount’s ready for us.”

  It was a fact understood by all. There was literally nothing else they could do. The stone house was situated in such a position that one had to cross the meadows to approach it, and the corrals, stock, and hay were all in a box canyon entered from beside the house. To get nearer without being heard was no longer possible, and shooting at the stone house would simply be a waste, as well as dangerous. It was a thousand to one against their scoring a hit, and their gun-flashes would reveal their positions, making them good targets in the open meadow.

  Disgusted, they trooped, grumbling, back to their horses and rode hack to the ranch. Wiley Dunn was irritated. The continued resistance of Tanner was not only annoying and disconcerting, but was winning friends for Tanner. Even his own lawyer made a sly comment on it, but to Dunn it was not amusing. He had hoped that Tanner could be pushed off without any real bloodshed, but it appeared that the only way to be rid of him was to kill him.

  Ten years ago he would not have hesitated, but the times had changed, and people were looking askance at big outfits running roughshod over people. He was tempted to turn Ollie Herndon loose, but hesitated. There should be some other way. If he could only catch Tanner on the road and destroy his place while he was gone.

  Somehow the story had gotten around that Dunn’s hands had failed in an attack on the Lonetree nester and he had repaid them with watermelons. The next time Dunn appeared in town Ed Wallis asked, “How were the melons, Wiley? Didn’t upset your stomach, did they?”

  Dunn’s smile faded. “That nester’s askin’ for it. He’s been warned to get off my place!”

  “It ain’t like it was, Wiley. Why don’t you let him be”

  “A man like that might prove to be a good neighbor. He seems a decent sort.”

  “Look, Ed, if I allowed a farmer to stay on that place my range would he overrun by squatters. Besides, in a bad year I’d need that water.”

  Wallis shrugged. “It’s none of my affair, although folks are saying that with two hundred thousand acres you should let a man have enough to live on. As for water, you’d have plenty of water, and grass too, if you didn’t over-graze. You’ve got more cattle on that grass than it can carry.”

  “You tellin’ me my business? I’ve been in the cow business twenty-five years, and no small potatoes storekeeper is going to tell me how to do it.”

  Ed Wallis turned abruptly. “Sorry I spoke to you, Dunn. It is none of my business. You handle your own affairs.” He returned to his store.

  Wiley Dunn stared after him, angry at Wallis but even more angry at himself. What was he getting mad at Ed for? They had been friends for fifteen years. But that talk about carrying too much stock was stupid, although, in a year like this when he was going to be in a tight for feed, it might make sense. It was that damned nester’s fault, he decided. If Tanner hadn’t moved onto that range he would have been.all right.

  He started along the street to the post office, and was just turning in at the door when Tanner and his wife came out. Tanner was no more than thirty at best, his wife a good ten years younger, a quietly pretty girl whose eyes widened when she saw him. That she was frightened angered Dunn even more. What kind of a person was he supposed to be, that a young woman should he afraid of him? What had Tanner been telling her?

  “Tanner,” he said abruptly, “have you moved yet?”

  Tanner smiled. “Why, howdy, Mr. Dunn! No, we haven’t moved and we don’t plan to. That’s government land, Mr. Tanner, and you’ve no rightful claim to it. On the other hand, I’ve filed on it for a homestead. All we want is to make a livin’, so leave us alone, Mr. Dunn.”

  People were listening, and Wiley Diinn was aware of it. There was such a thing as prestige, and by simply telling the Tanners they might stay on undisturbed he could have established a reputation of another kind; on the other hand, he had lived so long with the psychology of the feudal baron it was not in him to change quickly. This Tanner had to be put in his place.

  “Now you see here, Tanner. I am not going to fool around any longer. You’re on my water and I want you off. You get off now, or you’ll answer to me. I’ll send my men around to take care of you.”

  “What’s the matter, Mr. Dunn” Tanner’s voice was suddenly soft, but something in it brought
Wiley Dunn up short. “Can’t you fight your own battles? Have you been hidin’ behind Ollie Herndon so long you don’t remember what it means to get a little dirty?”

  Wiley Dunn stared at Tanner. Not for years had anyone dared challenge him. Not for years had he had a fight of any kind. He was a fairly chunky man who had won many a rough-and-tumble fight in years gone by, but there was something about Tanner that warned Dunn he would he hard to handle. Yet Dunn had harl the reputation of being a fighter, and he had won it the hard way.

  “I don’t mix in dirty brawls, Tanner. It won’t be a matter of fists if I come after you.”

  Tanner, was not listening. “Mr. Dunn, I have never hunted trouble with any man, although here and there trouble has come to me. I’ve never hunted trouble with you, but your boys have attacked me twice.

  “Now, Mr. Dunn, I’ve always thought I’d never have to kill another man, but if it is guns you want it is guns you can have. Right now, right here, this minute, if you want it that way. I’m carrying a gun, Mr. Dunn. Are you?”

  Wiley Dunn felt butterflies in his stomach. Maybe he was getting old. “No,” he said honestly, “I am not carrying a gun, but—“

  Sheriff Collins had been watching and then he stepped in. “All right, break it up! There will be no talk of guns while I’m sheriff of this county.” Collins looked at Tanner, his expression harsh. The sheriff was a cattleman himself. “Do you hear that, Tanner?”

  “I hear it,” Tanner replied calmly, “but while you’re at it, you tell Dunn to keep his men away from my place. They’ve attacked me twice, with guns.”

  “I know nothing about that,” Collins replied stiffly. “If you want to file a complaint, I will act upon it.”

  “I’ve always fought my own battles, Sheriff, but I would like to call your attention to something. You were standing here listening when he threatened me and ordered me off land on which I have legally filed. If there is a court case I’ll certainly have you called as a witness.”