The Man from Battle Flat

by Louis L'Amour

  “Why were the Box N boys gunnin’ for you, Rolly?” he had asked.

  A frown had gathered between Rolly Burt’s eyes. He had looked up at Ross over the fire. His blue eyes were puzzled and disturbed. “You know, I can’t figure that. It was a set deal. I saw that right away. They’d been sent to murder me.”

  “How’d you happen to be in town?”

  “Berdue sent me in for a message.”

  “I see.” Ross had told him then about the meeting below the mesa, and everything but Sherry’s part in it. “There’s a tie-up there somewhere. I think Berdue sent you on purpose, an’ he had those Box N boys primed to kill you.”

  “But why?”

  “Something you know, probably. The way I have it figured is that Syd Berdue is in some kind of a double-cross that he doesn’t want Chalk to know about. Maybe he figured he’d tipped his hand somehow, and you knew too much. Voyle is in the deal with him, and I figured from the way he acted the other night in front of Pogue that he’s double-crossing Walt. And I think Star Levitt is the man behind the whole thing.”

  “You mean a deal between Berdue and Levitt? But they are supposed to be on the outs.”

  “Sure, and what better cover-up? You keep an eye on the springs. They may meet again.”

  “Say!” Burt had glanced up. “Something I’ve been meaning to ask you. Several times I’ve heard a funny kind of rumbling, sounds like it comes out of the rock under me. You heard it?”

  “Uhn-huh. Don’t reckon it amounts to much, but someday we’ll do some prowling. Kind of gives an hombre the shivers.”

  Standing now at the Bit and Bridle bar, Ross Haney went over that conversation. Yes, he was ahead of his plans in having such an ally as Rolly Burt.

  He leaned his forearms on the hardwood and turned his head to glance out into the street. The rose of the setting sun had tinted the dusty, unpainted boards of the old building opposite with a dull glow, and beyond it, in the space between the buildings, a deep shadow had already gathered. At the rail, Río stamped his feet against a vagrant fly and blew contentedly.

  It was a quiet evening. Suddenly he felt a vague nostalgia, a longing for a home he had never known, the deep, inner desire for peace, his children about him, the quiet evening rest on a wide porch after a hard day on the range, and the sound of a voice inside, a voice singing. Yet, when he straightened and filled his glass again, the guns felt heavy against his legs. Someday, with luck, things would be different.

  Then the half doors pushed open, and Star Levitt stood there, tall and handsome against the facing light. He looked for an instant at Ross, and then came on into the room. He wore the same splendid white hat, a white buckskin vest, and perfectly creased gray trousers tucked into polished boots. As always, the worn guns struck the only incongruous note. His voice was easy, confident.

  “Buy you a drink?”

  “Thanks, I’ve got one.” In the mirror Ross’s eyes caught the difference between them, his battered shabbiness against the cool magnificence of Levitt.

  Levitt’s smile was pleasant, his voice ordinary and casual. “Planning to leave soon?”

  “No.” Haney’s voice was flat. “I’m never going to leave.”

  “That’s what the country needs, they tell me. Permanent settlers, somebody to build on. It’s a nice thought, if you can stick it.”

  “That’s right. How about you, Levitt? Do you think you’ll be able to stick it when Reynolds and Pogue get to checking brands?” He heard a glass rattle in Pat’s suddenly nervous fingers. He knew he had taken the play away from Levitt with that remark, and he followed it up. “I’ve been over the range lately, and there’s a lot of steers out there with VVs made over into Three Diamonds, an’ Box Ns to Triple Box As, an’ I understand that brand happens to be yours, too.”

  Levitt had straightened and was looking at him, all the smile gone from his face. “You understand too much, Haney. You’re getting into water that’s too deep for you, or for any drifting cowhand.”

  “Am I? Let me judge. I’ve waded through some bad water a few times, an’, where I couldn’t wade, I could swim.”

  Star Levitt’s eyes had widened and the bones seemed to stretch the skin of his face taut and hard. He was not a man used to being talked back to, and he wasn’t used to being thwarted. He was shrewd, a planner, but in that instant Ross learned something else of him. He had a temper, and, when pushed, he got angry. Such a man was apt to be hasty. All right, Ross told himself, let’s see.

  “Another thing. You spoke the other day about a staked claim. I’m curious to see how deep your stakes are driven, so I’m going to find out for myself, Levitt. I don’t think that claim is very secure. I think a little bit of bad weather an’ all your stakes would shake loose. You’re a big boy, Levitt, but you’re not cutting the wide swath you think you are. Now you know where I stand, so don’t try running any bluff on me. I won’t take a pushing around.”

  “Stand aside, Star, an’ let me have him!” The voice rang in an almost empty room, and Haney’s hair prickled along his scalp as he saw Emmett Chubb standing just inside the door. “I want him, anyway, Star!”

  Ross Haney stood, his feet wide apart, facing them and he knew he was in the tightest spot of his life. Two of the deadliest gunmen in the country were facing him, and he was alone. Cold and still he waited, and the air was so tense he could hear the hoarse breathing of the bartender beside him and across the bar.

  So still was the air in the room that Bill Mabry’s voice, low as it was, could be heard by all.

  “If they want it, Haney, I’ll take Star for you. He’s right here under my gun.”

  Levitt’s eyes did not waver. Haney saw the quick calculation in the big man’s eyes, then saw decision. Levitt was sharp, and this situation offered nothing for anybody. It was two and two, and Mabry’s position at the window from which he spoke commanded the situation perfectly, as he was just slightly behind both Levitt and Chubb.

  It was Pat who broke the stalemate. “Nobody does any shootin’ here unless it’s me,” he said flatly. “Mabry, you stand where you are. Chubb, you take your hand away from that gun an’ get out of that door, face first. Star, you foller him. I ain’t aimin’ to put clean sawdust on this here floor again today. Now git!”

  He enforced his command with the twin barrels of a shotgun over the edge of the bar, and nobody had any argument with a shotgun at close quarters. A six-gun warrants a gamble, but there is no gamble with a sawed-off scatter-gun.

  Chubb turned on his heel and strode from the room, and Star smiled suddenly, but his eyes were cold as they turned to Haney. “You talk a good fight,” he said. “We’ll have to see what you’re holding.”

  “All right,” Ross replied shortly. “I’ll help you check brands at the roundup!”

  Levitt walked out, and then Bill Mabry put a foot through the open window, and stepped into the bar. He grinned. “That job open?”

  Haney laughed. “Friend, you’ve been working for me for the last three minutes,” he declared warmly.

  “You two finish your drinks and pull out,” Pat said dryly. “Powder smoke gives me a headache.”

  XI

  Gathered over the fire in the hollow atop the mesa, crouched three men, not daring to use the partly constructed house as the glow of the fire might attract attention. Here, in a more sheltered position far back from the rim, they could talk in quiet and without fear of the fire attracting undue attention.

  Burt, whose leg was much better, was cooking. “It ain’t all clear, Ross, but I think you’ve got the right idea. It looks like Levitt is engineerin’ some kind of a steal if Voyle, Dahl, an’ Berdue are in it with him. I do know this. There’s been a passel of hardcases comin’ into the valley here lately. They ain’t tied in with the Box N or the RR by any means.”

  “Sure, look at Streeter an’ Hanson,” Mabry said. “They are with Pogue, but how far can he count on ’em? I think Streeter an’ Hanson will stay out of things if Levitt says to. I think
he’s cut the ground from under the feet of both men.”

  “Those brands I’ve looked at aren’t intended to fool anybody, it seems to me,” Haney commented. “I think Levitt plans to start trouble. It’s my opinion that he’ll blow the lid off things just when the rest of them are standin’ by for the roundup. How many reliable hands has Vernon got?”

  “Three or four,” Mabry replied. “Dahl and his partner ran several off. A man sure don’t feel comfortable workin’ around a ranch with two hombres on the prod like that.”

  “What goes on around there?” Haney asked Mabry. “You’ve lived on that spread, an’ should know.”

  Mabry shrugged. “I sure don’t know,” he said honestly. “Seems to be a lot of movin’ around at night on that spread, but Dahl or his partner are usually by the door, an’ they go out to see what it’s all about. Several times at night riders have showed up there, leavin’ hard-ridden horses behind when they take off. No familiar brands but one. That I think I’ve seen down Mexico way.”

  Ross took the plate he was handed and dished up some fríjoles and then accepted the coffee Burt poured for him. There seemed to be but one answer. He would have to do some night riding and look around a little. After all, there couldn’t be many possibilities.

  “Well,” Burt suggested at last, “the roundup starts tomorrow. Before it has gone very far, we’ll know a lot of things.”

  From the rim of the mesa they watched all the following morning. Reynolds’s hands were rounding up cattle, driving them out of the timber and down into the flat. Some of the Box N riders were part of the group.

  The weather was hot and dry, and dust arose in clouds. The cattle moved from the shade and ample water of the springs with reluctance. As always, it gave Ross a thrill to watch the cattle gathered and to see a big herd moving. He kept back and out of sight but took turns with Mabry at watching the work.

  Regardless of their sympathies, there were good cattlemen on both sides. The riders got the cattle out of the brakes and started them downvalley to the accompaniment of many yells, much shouting back and forth, and the usual good-natured persiflage and joking that is part of any roundup crew. As far as Ross’s glass was able to see, the same thing was happening everywhere. There would be several thousand head of stock to work in this roundup, and it would move on down the range for many miles before completed.

  Mabry slid up alongside of him at noon on the second day. “You want me to rep for you, or will you tackle it your own self?”

  Haney thought a minute. “We’ll both go down, but we’ll go loaded for bear. I think hell is going to break loose down there before many days.”

  “If they start to fight, what do we do?” Mabry asked keenly,

  “Pull out. We don’t have a battle with any of them. Not yet, we don’t, but almost any of them might take a shot at us. When they see what’s happened, that I’ve got cattle on this range, they aren’t going to be too happy about it.”

  “Have you seen Scott?”

  “Only for a minute or two. He’s advisin’ me to get more hands, but I don’t want anybody killed, neither of you nor myself, either. If there’s only three of us, we’ll play our cards the way we should, close to our belt. If there were more, we might take chances and get somebody killed. If they start a battle, pull out.”

  “Don’t you rate that Levitt too low, Haney.” Mabry shook his head seriously. “He’s cold-blooded, and he’ll do whatever he’s a mind to, to get his way on this range. He hasn’t any use for either Pogue or Reynolds, but he’s a sight worse than either of them.”

  It was good advice, and the following day, when the two drifted down off the mesa toward the roundup, Ross Haney was thinking about it.

  “Remember one thing,” he advised Mabry. “We may not be together all the time. Don’t let yourself get sucked in. Hold to the outer edge all the time, and keep an eye on the hands we’ve talked about who we believe to be tied in with Levitt. I wouldn’t be surprised at anything. If they start scattering out, and seem to be taking up any definite positions, ease out of there quick.”

  Walt Pogue looked unhappy when he saw the two riding up. Then he brightened noticeably. “You two hunting work? I need some men.”

  “No.” Haney noted that Chalk Reynolds was riding over. “I’ve come to rep for my brand.”

  Pogue’s head came down and his eyes squinted. He leaned toward them, and his somewhat thick lips parted. “Did you say . . . your brand?”

  “That’s right . . . the Gallows Frame.”

  The big rancher’s face went white, then darkened with a surge of blood. He reined his horse around violently. “Who said you could run cattle on this range?”

  Ross Haney shrugged. Chalk Reynolds looked as astonished and angry as Pogue. “Does anybody have to say so? Strikes me this here is government land, and my stock has as much right to run on it as yours, an’ maybe more right.”

  “You’ll find there’s a difference of opinion on that!” Chalk Reynolds put in violently. “This range is overcrowded now.”

  “Tell that to Star Levitt. He’s on it with two brands.”

  This was obviously no news to either of them, but neither had anything to say for a minute, and then Reynolds said coldly: “Well, he’ll be told! From what I hear, somebody’s doin’ some mighty smooth work with a cinch ring!”

  Ross hooked his leg around the saddle horn and began to dig for the makings. “Reynolds, if you an’ Pogue will take a look at those altered brands, you’ll see that whoever altered them doesn’t give a hoot whether you know it or not. He’s throwin’ it right in your face, an’ askin’ what you intend to do.”

  “I’ll do plenty!” Chalk bellowed. “There’s goin’ to be a new set-up on this range after this roundup is over!”

  “You throwin’ that at me?” Pogue demanded. Fury was building in the man, and he was staring at Reynolds with an ugly light in his eye.

  “Why don’t you two either go to it or cut it out?” Haney drawled. “Or are you both afraid of Levitt? He’s the hombre who’s cuttin’ in on you. He doesn’t even bother to bring his own cows, he brands yours.”

  Ross chuckled, and Reynolds’s face went white. He turned and said flatly, the rage trembling behind his even tones: “We might get together, Walt an’ I, long enough to get shut of you!”

  “Take first things first,” Ross said. “An’ you’d better learn this right now, Chalk. An’ you, too, Pogue. I came here to stay. If you fellows stay here, it will be with me alongside of you. If you go, I’ll still be here. I didn’t come to this valley by chance. I came here on purpose, and with a definite idea in mind. Any bet you make, I’ll double and raise. So any time you want to get into the game with me, just start the ball rolling, anyway you like.”

  He struck a match and lighted his smoke, then dropped his leg back and kicked his foot into the stirrup. Coolly, and without a backward glance, he rode away.

  Bill Mabry sat quietly for a minute or two, watching him ride.

  Pogue glared at him. “What’s in this, Bill? You’ve always been a good man.”

  “You listen to him,” Mabry advised dryly. “He’s mucho malo hombre, if you get what I mean. But only when he’s crossed. He’s got no reason to like either of you, but he’s got other things on his mind now. But in case either of you wonder where I stand. Me an’ my six-gun, we stand right alongside of Ross Haney. And that’s where you’ll find Rolly Burt, too!”

  “Burt?” Pogue’s face flamed. “Where is that murderin’ son-of-a-bitch?”

  Bill Mabry turned, his hand on the cantle of the saddle: “Listen, why don’t you find out why two of your men were gunning for him, Pogue? I’ll bet a paint pony you don’t know. An’ why don’t you, Chalk Reynolds, find out why none of your boys was in town that night to side Burt? Why did your nephew send him into town for a message?”

  Mabry turned and cantered his horse over to Ross. “I gave ’em some more,” he said briefly, and explained.

  Haney chuckled. “Th
eir ears will be buzzing for a week if they live that long. Some nice stock here, Bill, at that.”

  “How many head have you got out here?”

  “Not many. Couple of dozen head is all. Just something to make them unhappy.”

  “Suppose they start to get sore? Reynolds an’ Pogue both can be mighty mean.”

  “We’ll get meaner. I’ve got them cold-decked, Bill. Someday I’ll tell you about it. I’ve got them all cold-decked. The only way they can beat me in the long run is with hot lead.”

  “Maybe. But that Star Levitt is poison.”

  “You think Pogue and Reynolds will get through the roundup without a fight?”

  “No. There’s too much hard feelin’ amongst the boys. Somebody will blow his top and then the whole thing will bust up in a shootin’ match.”

  Ross Haney looked across the valley, watching the familiar scene with a little of the old lift within him. This was the roundup, the hardest work in a cowhand’s life, and in many ways the highest point. They cussed the roundup, and loved it. It was hot, dusty, full of danger from kicking hoofs and menacing horns, but filled with good fellowship and comradely fun.

  The waving sea of horns tossed and rolled and fell as the cattle milled or the herd, starting to line out for somewhere, anywhere, was turned back on itself by some cowhand quick to stop the movement. At such times the horns would send a long ripple of movement across the herd.

  Wild-eyed steers lunged for a getaway, but were quickly harried back into the herd. At the branding pens men were gathered, the sharp line of demarcation between the RR and Box N a little broken here by the business of the day. Elsewhere, the men from the two big outfits drew off by themselves, worked together, and avoided contact with the rival ranch hands.

  Star Levitt, astride a magnificent white horse, was everywhere to be seen. For a time, he was at the branding pens, and then he was circling the herd. Finally, sighting Ross Haney and Mabry, he walked his horse toward them. Ross saw Mabry stiffen and his face tighten and grow cold. Certainly there was no love lost here.