Storm in the Saddle (An Ash Colter Western)

by Ben Bridges

  He gave me a sideways glance and said quietly, ‘We are already taking steps to deal with those.’

  ‘Jameson and his men, do you mean?’ I asked innocuously.

  He looked at me full on. ‘What do you know of Ward Jameson?’ he demanded.

  ‘I had a run-in with him on the way up here earlier today. He was in the process of impounding the cattle of a man named Tragg. He tried to goad Tragg into a gunfight, and I stopped them.’

  ‘Might I ask why?’

  ‘Because it seemed to me that Jameson was exceeding his authority. He is obviously a sudden man with a gun. Tragg didn’t stand a chance.’

  Linderman pondered what I had said, then remarked, ‘With all due respect, sir, it strikes me that Jameson wasn’t the only one exceeding his authority.’

  ‘I’m sorry you feel that way, Mr. Linderman. Maybe you are right, and I should have left well enough alone. I assure you, it is not my usual practice to buy into another man’s business. But until we strike a bargain that is acceptable to both of us, I am not and should not be considered to be in your employ. Therefore I cannot be accused of exceeding an authority I do not yet possess. Apart from which...’

  ‘Yes, Mr. Colter?’

  ‘Apart from which,’ I continued, ‘this is a touchy situation you have here, one that could degenerate into a full-scale range war should someone like Tragg be killed or even wounded.’

  Linderman was silent for a while. Cigar smoke drifted across the cool, lavender-smelling air as he digested what I had said. At length Carbonne cleared his throat and ventured, ‘I should say he has a point, sir.’

  Linderman waved the cigar. ‘Mr. Colter,’ he said. ‘I see that there are two things about this affair that you do not understand. One—the situation has already “degenerated”, as you so eloquently put it, into a state that approximates war. And two—that is precisely what we want.’

  I frowned at him.

  ‘The revelation shocks you,’ he noted. ‘But how else are we to rid ourselves of these squatters? Do you think they will just pack up and go quietly if we ask them nicely enough?’

  Sensing something behind Linderman’s words, I said, ‘Do they have any legal claim to the land?’

  Quickly—-too quickly—he said, ‘No, they do not.’

  ‘Do you? Your members, I mean?’

  His hesitation told me all I needed to know. After a moment his response only confirmed it. ‘That is for the courts to decide.’

  ‘In other words,’ I said, ‘you have been treating open range as your own, and have as much legal claim to it as the people you accuse of squatting on it.’

  ‘I think you forget yourself, sir,’ Linder-man said stiffly. ‘You were not summoned here to pass judgment on the very men who wish to employ you.’

  I made to rise. ‘Then I fear we should each apologize for wasting the other’s time. If you will excuse me, gentlemen...’

  But Linderman stayed me with one raised hand. ‘Don’t be so hasty, Colter,’ said he in a more conciliatory tone. ‘And let neither of us sit in judgment of the other upon such short acquaintance. You must consider the broader issues here. Who is better served to bring prosperity back to Fairfax County, the professional cattleman, the rustler or the farmer? These people are interlopers, sir, trespassers. We were here first.’ He gave another wave of the hand, wreathing more smoke through the air. ‘Please, share a drink with me and let us discuss the matter for which we requested your presence.’

  I acquiesced, for I was still curious about a few things, and as he had said, it was wrong to form any true judgments on such short acquaintance. Linderman made eye contact with Carbonne and the younger man went over to a drinks cabinet and busied himself with a bottle and two glasses.

  Fixing Linderman with a frown, I said, ‘You say you are already taking steps to deal with the rustlers?’

  He nodded. ‘Not exactly the kind of steps you might approve of,’ he replied. ‘But nevertheless, steps that must be taken.’

  ‘Then might I ask why you brought me here? I was given to understand—’

  ‘—that the apprehension of the rustlers was to be your prime concern?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I’m afraid that was not strictly true,’ he said, as if to lie were a perfectly legitimate business practice. ‘That was but a...a smokescreen, if you will. To disguise the true and somewhat embarrassing nature of our problem.’

  I took a glass from Carbonne and nodded a brief acknowledgement. ‘I’m intrigued,’ I said.

  Linderman remarked, ‘You have an impressive reputation as a man hunter, Mr. Colter. How far was it you tracked that blackguard John Kidd? Right to his very doorstep in Argentina, wasn’t it?’ His laugh was a sharp bark of sound. ‘Well, sir, that is what we have need of here. A hunter. A tenacious, skilled hunter.’ He steepled his fingers. ‘Forget about the rustlers, Mr. Colter. Forget about the squatters. They will be dealt with in due course. You, my dear fellow, will have just the one piece of work.’

  Playing a hunch, and for some irrational reason wishing to rattle the man, I said quietly, ‘Dunbar.’

  His face slackened as if the name had struck him more like a verbal slap. Immediately he sat forward and clutched at the edge of the desk. ‘What do you know about Dunbar?’ he hissed. ‘Who told you?’

  Enjoying his discomfort, I replied, ‘No one,’ and then told him about the rest of my encounter with Tragg and the Association men. ‘Am I correct in thinking that you want me to track him down, this Dunbar?’ I finished.

  I am not completely sure that he heard me, for his eyes had taken on a glazed look and his mouth had turned down at the edges, and it was then I realized two things about him; that he not only despised Dunbar—he was very much afraid of him as well.

  ‘They’ll never catch Dunbar,’ he murmured. ‘Jameson and the others. Dunbar will lose them in the tall and uncut, and they’ll waste the rest of the day riding around in circles. Or worse.’

  ‘Perhaps you should tell me everything,’ I prompted.

  He nodded and glanced uneasily at Carbonne, clearly uncomfortable with whatever was coming. Then, ‘When the squatters first started moving onto range we had always considered as ours, the people of Beaver Dam had to decide whose side they were on. A great many supported us in our campaign to chase these devils back where they came from. Others dallied and delayed making a choice, no doubt wishing to keep all their options open. But a small minority came out in open support for these intruders, no doubt perceiving them to be the “underdogs”. Dunbar and his wife were two such. They ran a store in town and came out in sympathy with our enemies.’

  ‘I saw the store on the way in,’ I remarked, adding bluntly, ‘Someone burned them out.’

  Linderman spread his hands, as if trying to absolve himself of blame. ‘An error was made,’ he said. ‘The thing got out of hand. Once the battle-lines were drawn up, the Dunbars refused to serve Association members or their men. And worse—they allowed their premises to be used as a meeting place so that the squatters could organize themselves against us. Their open defiance could not be allowed to continue.’

  ‘So you burned them out,’ I said again.

  His look was withering. ‘You make it all sound so one-sided,’ he replied almost pityingly. ‘It wasn’t. But I will concede that, in trying to teach them a lesson, we made a certain...error of judgment’ Wincing at the memory, he said, ‘It was decided that a small fire should be started at the back of their property, just as a warning. What we didn’t know, what we had no way of knowing, was that the Dunbars had stored five fifty-gallon drums of coal-oil just yards from where the fire was set.’

  I whispered, ‘My God...’

  ‘Exactly. What was intended to be a minor irritation became a veritable conflagration. Their business was ruined. They were ruined. Oh, Dunbar and his wife were lucky enough to escape with their lives, but Dunbar’s right leg was so badly damaged that surgical amputation was necessary.’

  I loo
ked at him, almost forgetting to breathe in my complete absorption and horror.

  ‘Since then,’ he went on in an uncertain voice, ‘Dunbar has declared war on us, and made our lives hell in no uncertain terms. Our men have been shot from ambush, or returned to us tarred and feathered. Notes have been left in our very homes, warning us to prepare to meet our Maker. Association stock has been poisoned. Barns and out-buildings have been torched.’ He shuddered delicately, then looked bleakly at me. ‘It must stop, Mr. Colter. Dunbar has got to be brought in, one way or another. If not, who knows which one of us will be next?’

  I shook my head in disbelief. ‘By all that’s holy—are you really expecting me to track down a one-legged man who is only paying you back for what you did to him?’

  He blinked at me in surprise. ‘My dear sir,’ he said. ‘Ethan Dunbar is the least of our worries. As I understand it, the poor man’s spirit has been well and truly broken.’

  ‘Then—’

  ‘I am referring to Jessica Dunbar,’ Linderman explained. ‘Ethan’s wife.

  Linderman’s laugh was short and ironic, and filled with something very much like self-disgust. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Here we are, grown men all, terrified of a mere woman.’ Still trying to grasp the full significance of it, I said, ‘Do you mean to tell me that a woman has done the things you say? Killed men? Ambushed them? That she was able to take the horn off Jameson’s saddle at three hundred yards?’

  ‘Oh, she has help, I’m sure of it. Some of the squatters, I imagine. But make no mistake about it, Mr. Colter, Dunbar—pathetic, isn’t it, that we refer to her by her surname only, so as not to remind ourselves that she is of the supposedly “weaker” sex?—Dunbar is as ruthless and capable a warrior as any Indian brave. Since the fire she has fought us with a merciless, single-minded determination, and I cannot fully say that I blame her. But she must be stopped.’

  ‘We agree on that,’ I said. ‘She must be stopped—for her own sake as much as anyone’s. But I am not the man to do it, Mr. Linderman. I do not wage war on women—especially when I cannot entirely condemn their actions.’

  Linderman looked imploringly at me. ‘Good grief, man, I’m not asking you to wage war on her! I’m asking only that you find her and bring her in so that we might somehow...compensate her for what happened and bring this campaign of hers to an end once and for all.’

  ‘Compensation seemed like the last thing Ward Jameson had in mind when he took off after her,’ I observed.

  ‘Ward Jameson is a good man,’ Linderman replied, ‘but something of a hot-head. And his determination to catch Dunbar is not hard to understand. She has already shot two of his men.’

  He sat back slowly, the chair beneath him creaking with the burden. ‘Now, Mr. Colter,’ he said. ‘What do you say?’

  His motives seemed laudable enough, but I knew that what he really wanted to do was eliminate the threat Dunbar posed to him and the wealthy cattlemen he represented by buying her off. The more I thought about it, however, the more I feared that Linderman was making another error of judgment, for this woman did not sound like the sort who would easily forget the injustice that had been visited upon her, and certainly not for mere dollars.

  ‘Well, Mr. Colter?’ he prodded. ‘Will you go after her, track her down, tell her we wish to make amends? Bring her back, by force, if she will not come voluntarily?’

  The notion still did not set well with me, and I hesitated before replying. ‘Let me think about it. I’ll give you my answer tomorrow morning.’

  ‘Can I not have your word on it now, sir? Though you may not realize it, time is of the essence, here. We are holding one of our quarterly meetings next week. All seven members of the Association will be in town. I...I fear that Dunbar may do something rash if she isn’t caught first.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Mr. Linderman, but this is not a thing I want to commit myself to unless I am completely certain.’

  He shrugged, not happy with my decision but powerless to change it. ‘As you will. Carbonne—see to it that a room is prepared for Mr. Colter right away.’

  I was surprised. ‘Here?’

  ‘Of course. We have all the comforts of home, I assure you. Our members always stay over for a few nights when we hold our meetings, or if other business brings them to town.’

  Because I didn’t want to be obligated in any way, I refused the offer. ‘Thank you anyway, but I’ll find myself a room in town.’

  Linderman smiled that brief, awkward smile of his again. ‘That might be easier said than done. The Dunbars weren’t the only ones to take sides against the Association, you know, though they were by far the most vocal. You will not be popular with everyone down there.’

  I rose as Carbonne moved back to the door to show me out. ‘That’s as maybe,’ I replied. ‘But I’m not with the Association yet, Mr. Linderman. Right now I’m still a free agent.’

  My horse was already waiting for me when I stepped back into the sunshine. The black boy was holding the reins patiently while flies zipped through the air around him, and the horse swished his tail lazily to keep them from settling.

  At the head of the steps I turned and once again offered my hand to James Carbonne. ‘Good day to you, Mr. Carbonne. I daresay I’ll see you again tomorrow.’

  He nodded briskly. ‘I daresay, Mr. Colter.’

  I had just started down the steps when he called my name again, and I turned to see that he was wearing an indecisive frown.

 
  He seemed on the verge of saying something, then shook his head. ‘No. Nothing.’

  I looked at him for a moment more, then shrugged and went on my way. Remounting, I headed for town at a lope.

  I had more or less already decided against taking the job I’d been offered. For one thing, I was uncomfortable with the idea of tracking down a woman. For another, the situation Linderman had described to me here had all the markings of a bitter range war, and I certainly wanted no part of that.

  Besides, I felt an instinctive dislike for Linderman’s seven ranchers. Though he had assured me that they were honorable men, I had seen enough of their like before to suspect otherwise, at least of the majority. Wealthy and ambitious, they had carved Fairfax County up between them without any legal claim to the land and were now determined to do all they could to stop even the smallest shirttail rancher from getting a foothold in their domain.

  I am not talking about the rustlers now. There can rarely be any excuse for stealing another man’s cattle. No; my thoughts were for the Traggs of the world. Whether for good or ill, I too had sided with the underdog.

  My mustang dusted his way back to town, his rider still deep in thought. Under the slant of the sun, the listing shadows of the buildings stretched across yellow dust and emerald needlegrass like black trenches. I had passed a hotel on my way through town earlier, and now I headed back to the place.

  I racked the horse and climbed up onto the boardwalk. I was tired after my long ride, and wanted a meal, a bath and some rest. As I approached the hotel’s two half-glass doors, however, a pretty girl with long chestnut hair and a fetching gray bodice and overskirt came out and walked right across my path, making me pull up sharp to avoid a collision. She stepped carefully down into the street, paused a moment as if testing the air, then started across.

  For a moment I followed her with my eyes, then dismissed her from my thoughts, for I still had other things on my mind. I reached for the door handle and was just about to let myself into the building when I heard the beat and clatter of horse-hooves coming fast up the street.

  I turned and identified the riders as Ward Jameson and his three cronies. They were tearing along the thoroughfare at a reckless pace, and putting to flight any passersby unfortunate enough to be caught in their path.

  From the corner of my eye I noticed the young girl break stride and turn to face them. She had not gone far across the street, but unless she got out of their way quickly, they would almost surely run her down.

&
nbsp; I opened my mouth and cried for her to move herself, but she only continued to stand there as if rooted, and look at the riders thundering down at her with confusion on her pale face.

  Without thinking, I threw myself down off the boardwalk, went after her, grabbed her by one arm and yanked her towards me. She slammed against my chest with a soft, startled cry, and I half-lifted, half-dragged her out of the street, and not a moment too soon.

  Ward Jameson and his men saw me then, and Jameson yanked roughly on his reins and drew down before me. His friends followed suit, and for a time then they sat saddle with sun-whitened dust floating around them like smoke on a battlefield, just staring at me—at me and the girl I still held protectively in my arms.

  ‘Well, well,’ Jameson said at last, in his soft, measured way. ‘If it isn’t the pilgrim again.’ He raised one hand to point at me. ‘That’s twice today you’ve come to the rescue, pilgrim. You’re a regular champion, aren’t you?’

  I could not keep the disgust I felt for him out of my expression. ‘When you stop putting people in jeopardy,’ I replied quietly, ‘I’ll stop helping them out.’

  His smile came tight and insolent. ‘Save some of your high-and-mighty concern for yourself,’ he advised. ‘There’s still some unfinished business between us, remember.’

  ‘You’re mistaken, Jameson. I don’t believe I would have business of any description with a man like you, and even if I did, now would be neither the time nor the place to settle it.’

  ‘You talk mighty brave when you’ve got a girl to shield you,’ he remarked.

  Remembering myself, I let the girl go and she stumbled to one side, still breathless and shaken. Then I looked along Jameson’s line of men with exaggerated puzzlement before saying, ‘Mrs. Dunbar got away from you again, I see.’

  That name seemed to wield an almost magical force, for he stiffened when I mentioned it, and fury danced hotly in his shiny-but-lifeless doll’s eyes.

  Taney that,’ I said mildly. ‘A woman getting the better of four men.’

  He glared down at me with such a terrible force that, if looks could kill, I would not have survived to write this account of it. For my part, I met his glare as evenly as I could, still as reluctant to fight as ever, but knowing that I must never show it because he would be sure to take advantage of it, fully and at once.