The Man from Battle Flat

by Louis L'Amour

  Tolman, who had left earlier, returned now and stuck his head in the door. “Stage a-comin’!” he said. “An’ Syd Berdue just blowed in!”

  “That VV bunch in yet?” Chubb asked, without turning his head. “When Dolph Turner gets in, you tell him about this. He’ll see that Levitt knows first of all.”

  Scott was working around the stove and soon the room was filled with the pleasant breakfast smell of frying ham and eggs and the smell of coffee. Despite his worry, Haney realized he had been hungry, and for the first time recalled he had eaten nothing the night before.

  Emmett Chubb got up. He was a stocky, swarthy man with a square jaw and a stubble of beard. His hair was unkempt, and, when he crossed the room to splash water on his face and hands, Ross noted his worn guns had notches carved in them, three on one gun, five on the other. Eight men.

  “The only thing I’m sorry for,” Chubb said as he dried his hands, his eyes on Haney, “is that I didn’t get the chance to shoot it out with you in the street.” His black eyes were sneering and cold. “I’d like to put you in the dust,” he said. “I’d like to see you die.”

  “Well,” Haney said dryly, “my hands are tied, so you’re safe enough to try. You’re a lot of yellow-backed double-crossers. You, Chubb, are a cheap murderer. You blew town fast enough after killin’ Vin Carter or you’d have had a chance to draw on me . . . or run.”

  Chubb walked across the room and stopped, his feet apart, in front of Haney. Lifting his open palm, he slapped Ross three times across the mouth. Scott did not turn, and Kinney shuffled his feet on the floor.

  “Maybe Levitt will give me the job,” he said harshly. “I hope he does.”

  The door opened suddenly and three men stood there. Ross Haney’s head jerked up as he saw Levitt. Star Levitt glanced from Chubb to Scott, and then indicated the men with him.

  “Neal an’ Baker, of the Rangers. They want the prisoner.”

  Chubb stared, disappointment and resentment struggling for place in his eyes. “Here he is. Scott’s been holdin’ him.”

  Neal bent over Haney and cut the ropes that tied his arms. “You come with us. We’re havin’ the hearin’ right now.”

  Haney turned, and, as he started toward the door, he saw Scott smiling. The old outlaw looked right into his eyes and winked, deliberately. What did that mean?

  Scowling, Haney walked across the street toward the hotel. Neal glanced at him a couple of times. “You know a man named Mabry?”

  “Bill Mabry?” Ross turned to Neal, astonished. “Why, sure. He works for me, an’ a mighty good man.”

  “When Clymer asks you questions,” Neal said, “give him the information you have straight, honest, and without prejudice.”

  Puzzled by the suggestion, Ross Haney walked into the room, and was shown to a chair.

  A big man with a capable, shrewd-looking face glanced at him sharply, then went back to examining some documents on the table. Several other men trooped in, and then Sherry and Bob Vernon walked into the room. More and more astonished, Ross stared from one to the other, trying to see what must have happened.

  He had never believed that Levitt would allow Clymer to confront the Vernons, or himself, if it could be avoided. Yet here they all were, and it looked like a showdown. Allan Kinney was there, and May. The pretty waitress glanced at him, and he averted his eyes. Scott had come over, and Star Levitt was one of the last to come into the room.

  From the dark expression on Levitt’s face, he decided all could not be going well for the big man, and the thought cheered him. Anything that was bad news for Levitt was sure to be good news for him.

  Ward Clymer sat back in his chair and looked over the room, his eyes noncommittal. “Now, friends,” he said briskly, “this is an entirely informal hearing to try to clarify the events leading up to the battle between the Reynolds and Pogue factions and to ascertain the guilt, if any, of those who are here with us. Also,” he glanced at Haney, “I am informed that Ross Haney, the cattleman, is held on a charge of murder for the slaying of one Kerb Dahl, a cowhand from the VV. If such is the truth, and if the evidence warrants it, Ross Haney will be taken south to the county seat for trial. In the meantime, let us examine the evidence.

  “Mister Levitt, will you tell us the events that preceded the fight between Reynolds and Pogue?”

  Star Levitt got to his feet, very smooth, very polished. He glanced around, smiled a little, and began. “It seems that before I arrived in the Ruby Hills country there had been considerable trouble over water and range rights, with sporadic fighting between the two big outfits. The VV, owned by the Vernons, was not involved in this feud, although there seemed to be some desire on the part of both outfits to possess the VV holdings and water. On the day the fight started there was some minor altercation over branding, and it led to a shooting which quickly spread until most of the hands on both sides were involved, with resulting deaths.”

  “What was your part in the fight?” Clymer asked shrewdly.

  “None at all, sir. I saw trouble coming and withdrew my men and got out of the way myself. After it was over, we did what we could for the wounded.”

  “There are no witnesses present from the other outfits?”

  “Oh, yes! Emmett Chubb, now the town marshal, survived the fight. Also Voyle, of the Box N, is here. Kerb Dahl, of the VV, who was in the middle of things was later murdered by the prisoner, Ross Haney.”

  “Sir?” Haney asked suddenly.

  Clymer’s eyes shifted to him, hesitated, and then asked: “Did you have a question?”

  “Yes, I’d like to ask Star Levitt where his range holdings were.”

  “I don’t see that the question has any bearing on the matter,” Levitt replied coolly.

  “It’s a fair question,” Clymer admitted. “It may have some later bearing on it. I understand you were running cattle. Where was your headquarters?”

  Levitt hesitated. “On the VV,” he said. “You see I am soon to marry Miss Vernon.”

  Clymer glanced curiously at Haney. “Does that answer your question?”

  “Sure, it answers it for now. Only I want it plain to everybody that Star Levitt had no buildings on the range other than cattle and the use of the VV headquarters.”

  Levitt stared at Haney, and shrugged in a bored manner. The attorney then asked Chubb and Voyle a few questions about the killing, and through Scott, Pat, the bartender, and others brought out the facts of the long-standing feud between the Reynolds and Pogue outfits. Every story served to bolster Levitt’s position. Bob Vernon offered his evidence in short, clipped sentences, and then Sherry hers.

  As she started to return to her chair, Haney spoke up. “Another question. Sherry, did anyone warn you away from the roundup, telling you to leave at once, that there might be trouble?”

  She hesitated. “Why, yes. Star Levitt did.”

  “I could see some of the men were spoiling for a fight,” Star said quietly. “It seemed a bad place for a woman, due to the impending trouble and the profanity attending the work of the men.”

  “May I ask a few questions?” Ross asked.

  “Mister Clymer,” Levitt interrupted, “this man Haney is a troublemaker! His questions can do no good except to try to incriminate others and to put himself in a better light. The man is a murderer!”

  Clymer shrugged. “We’re here to ascertain the facts. However, the prisoner should be examined in connection with the killing of Kerb Dahl. What have you to say to that, Haney?”

  “That it is impossible to divide the killing of Dahl from the other sides of the case. Nor is it going to be of any use to talk of it until the events leading up to that point are made plain.”

  “Well, that’s reasonable enough,” Clymer said. “Go ahead.”

  Levitt’s lips tightened and his nostrils flared. Voyle had walked into the back of the room with Syd Berdue, and they stood there, surveying the crowd. With them was the silent man who had been Dahl’s partner.

  “I want
to ask Levitt how many hands he had when he came into this country,” Ross said evenly.

  Star was puzzled and wary. “Why, not many. What difference does it make?”

  “How many? You used the VV spread . . . how many hands did you have?”

  “Why, one was actually all that came with me.” The question puzzled Levitt and disturbed him. He couldn’t see where it pointed.

  “The one man was that short, dark man at the back of the room, wasn’t it? The man called Turner?”

  “That’s right.”

  Haney turned suddenly in his chair and fired the question at Dahl’s partner. “Turner, what’s a piggin’ string?”

  “What?” The man looked puzzled and frightened. The question startled him, and he was irritated at being suddenly noticed.

  “I asked what a piggin’ string was. I’d also like to know what a grulla is.”

  Turner turned his head from side to side, eager for a way out, but there was none. He wet his lips with his tongue, and swallowed. “I don’t know,” he said.

  “These questions make no sense at all!” Levitt said irritably. “Let’s get on with the murder hearing!”

  “They make sense to me,” Ross replied. Then turning to Clymer, he added: “You, sir, were raised on a cow ranch, so you know that a piggin’ string is a short piece of rope used to tie a critter when it’s throwed . . . thrown. You also know that a grulla is a mouse color, a sort of gray, an’ usually applied to horses. The point I’m gettin’ at is that Levitt came into this country with one man who wasn’t a cowhand. Turner doesn’t know the first thing about a ranch or about cattle.”

  “What’s that got to do with it?” Levitt demanded.

  Clymer was looking at Ross Haney thoughtfully. He began to smile as he anticipated the reply.

  “Why, just this, Levitt. How many cattle did you bring into this country?” Haney demanded sharply. He leaned forward. “An’ how many have you got now?”

  Somebody out in the room grunted and Scott was grinning from ear to ear. The question had caught Levitt flat-footed. Clymer turned on him, his eyes bright with interest. “A good question, Mister Levitt. On the way here you told me you ran a thousand head. Where did you get them?”

  “That’s got nothing to do with it!” Levitt shouted angrily. For the first time he was out in the open, and Ross Haney had led him there, led him by the nose into a trap. As Haney knew, when pushed, Levitt grew angry, and it was that he was playing for.

  “Mister Clymer,” Ross interrupted, “I think it has a lot to do with it. This man, claimin’ to be a representative rancher, admits comin’ into this country with one man who wasn’t a cowhand even if he may be fairly good with a gun. No two men like that are bringin’ in a thousand head of cattle into this country an’ brandin’ ’em. But I’ll show you that Levitt does have a thousand head, or near to it, an’ every one with a worked-over brand!”

  “That’s a lie!” Levitt shouted, leaping to his feet.

  Ross settled back in his chair, smiling. “Now ask me about the killin’ of Kerb Dahl,” he said gently.

  Star Levitt sagged back in his chair, flushed and angry. He had let go of his temper. Despite his burning rage, he knew he was in an ugly position where Haney, by his fool questions, had led him. The killing led away from the cattle, so he decided to jump at the chance.

  Before he could speak, however, Clymer asked Haney: “If he has the branded cattle now, who branded them?”

  “Kerb Dahl, the man I killed on the VV, Voyle of the Box N, Tolman, who hired on after Levitt got here, an’ Emmett Chubb, among others.”

  “That’s absurd!” Levitt said contemptuously.

  “Sherry, name the men you heard talking at Thousand Springs,” Ross asked quickly.

  The sudden question startled her, and, before Levitt could catch her eye, she glanced up and replied: “Why, Dahl was there, and Voyle, Tolman, and Sydney Berdue.”

  “What did they talk about?”

  Levitt was leaning forward in his chair, his eyes upon her. Sherry glanced at him, and her eyes wavered. “Why, I . . .” Her voice trailed off.

  “Before you answer,” Ross told her, “let me tell you that you’ve been the victims, you and your brother, of the foulest trick ever played.” Haney turned to Clymer: “Sir, Miss Vernon was concealed near the springs and overheard some of the plotting between the men mentioned. These were the same men who altered the brands for Levitt. Through them Levitt engineered and planned the whole fight, forcing an issue between Reynolds and Pogue deliberately, and in the battle, killing the two men who opposed him in the Ruby Hills country. It will no doubt strike you that among the survivors of that battle were all the men seen by Miss Vernon at the springs. Also,” he added, “Levitt was blackmailing the Vernons, using their ranch as a storage depot and transfer point for his deals in the opium trade.”

  XVII

  Knocked off balance by these public revelations, Star Levitt struggled to his feet, his face ashen. The carefully planned coup was tumbling about his ears, and he who had come into the valley as a leader in a dope ring, and planned to become the legitimate owner of a great ranch, suddenly saw the whole thing reduced to chaos.

  “Furthermore,” Ross got to his feet, and the ringing sound of his voice reduced to silence the stir in the room, “I think this is the proper time to make a few points clear.” Opening his shirt, he drew a leather wallet from inside it and from the wallet drew a handful of papers that he passed to Clymer. “Will you tell Mister Levitt,” he said, “what you have there?”

  Clymer glanced at them, then looked up in amazement. “Why, these are deeds!” he exclaimed, glancing from Haney to Levitt. “These indicate that you are the owner of both Hitson Springs and the Bullhorn ranch headquarters, including the water right. Also, here are papers that show Haney has filed on the Thousand Springs area!”

  “What?” Star Levitt’s fingers gripped the arms of his chair and his brow creased. Before his eyes came the whole plan he had made, all his planning, his actions—all were rendered perfectly futile. Who controlled the water in those three sources controlled the Ruby Hills, and there was no way of circumventing it. From the beginning he had been beaten, and now he had been made ridiculous.

  “I told you,” Haney said quietly, looking at Levitt, “that you had overlooked the obvious. Somehow a crook always does. Now, sir,” Ross said to Clymer, “with the cattle brands I can show you, the evidence we can produce, I’d say that you have a strong case for robbery and murder against Star Levitt!”

  There was a slight stir in the back of the room, and Haney’s eyes shifted. Emmett Chubb was slipping from the room to the street.

  As the accusation rang in the silent room, Star Levitt held himself taut. The crashing of his plans meant less to him now than the fact that he had been shown up for a fool by the cowhand he despised and hated. Suddenly the rage that was building within him burst into a fury that was almost madness. His face went white, his eyes glassy and staring, and, letting out a choking cry, he sprang for Haney.

  Warned by Sherry’s scream, Ross jerked his eyes back from the vanishing Chubb and lunged from where he stood, swinging two brain-jarring blows to the head. They rocked Levitt, but nothing could stop his insane rush, and Haney gave ground before the onslaught. Levitt swung wildly with both hands, beside himself with hate and fury.

  But Ross lunged at him, burying a right in the bigger man’s stomach, then hooking a powerful, jarring left to the chin. Levitt staggered and Ross, eager for battle, bulled into him, bringing his head down on Levitt’s shoulder and smashing away with both hands in a wicked body attack. He threw the punches with all the power built into his shoulders by years of bulldogging steers and hard range work.

  He caught Levitt with a wicked overhand right, and battered him back into the chairs. The crowd scattered. From somewhere outside Ross heard the sharp rap of a shot, and then another. Then quiet. His right smashed Levitt over a chair, and the big man came up with a lunge, grabbing for
the chair itself.

  Ross rushed him and Star tried to straighten, but Haney clubbed him with a fist on the kidney and the big man went to his knees. Ross stepped back, panting. “Get up!” he said. “Get up an’ take it!”

  Levitt lunged to his feet and Ross smashed his lips with a sweeping left. He ripped a gash in Levitt’s cheek with a right. Star tottered back, his eyes glazed. He straightened then, shook his head, some measure of cunning returning to him. Suddenly he turned and hurled himself through the glass of the window!

  Ross sprang to the window after him, and caught a fleeting glimpse of Emmett Chubb as a bullet whirred within a hair of his cheek and buried itself in the window frame. There was a clatter of horses’ hoofs, then silence.

  Haney’s hands fell helplessly. Scott moved up beside him, handing him his guns. “Sorry I couldn’t get ’em to you sooner,” he said, “but you did plenty without ’em.”

  Clymer caught his arm. “You’ve loyal friends, Haney. Burt and Mabry stopped the stage outside of town. Levitt had ridden on ahead, and they took time to tell me a lot of things, and asked that I get you and the Vernons together with Levitt and withhold judgment until you had talked and I had listened. As it happens,” he added, “Neal and I had both been reared on ranches where Mabry worked. We knew him for a good man, and an honest one. From the first we had doubts that all Levitt had told us was the truth. Mabry also had a cowhide with him, and any Western man could see the brand had been altered from a VV to Three Diamonds.”

  Ross shoved his guns into his holsters and pushed his way to Sherry who was standing, white and still, near the door, waiting for him. He said gently: “Sherry, we can talk about it some other time, but I think I can make a rough guess at most of it. Why don’t you go in and get some coffee? I’ll join you in a minute.”

  Mabry and Burt were waiting outside, and they had the Appaloosa. “We can chase ’em, boss,” Rolly said, “but they’ve got quite a start.”

  “Later. I heard some shouting. What was it?”