Justice at Red River

by John Glasby

  Frank Condor made his way slowly to the livery stables. It was almost dark now. The sun had vanished in a blaze of reds and scarlets to the west half an hour earlier and now night was rushing in from the north and east to swamp all of the glowing colours, leaving first the deepening purple and then the black with the first sky sentinels beginning to show directly overhead. Around him, the town was quiet. Too quiet. It spoke loudly of hidden menace and danger, of dark, deep shadows where men might hide, waiting to put a slug into his back without any warning. But he walked with a firm tread and tried not to show any of the tight uneasiness in his mind. He did not underestimate Foran. To have done that would have proved fatal. The other was no fool and he would never have got to be where he was by taking any unnecessary chances.

  There was a riotous tumult of thoughts and ideas racing through his mind as he walked the quiet street of Benton. Had Foran learned of what had happened in town that afternoon? Even if he had, would he consider Carron’s freedom more important in his scheme of things than riding against Phil Carson? There was the chance that he had gathered his men together and was even then on his way into town, determined to destroy the place and break his foreman out of jail. Inwardly, Frank was hoping that he would do none of these things. Knowing the way in which Foran’s mind worked, there was just a slim chance he would decide that until Frank Condor was out of the way for good, he might always be on the defensive and that would not sit well with a man of Foran’s calibre. If this was indeed the case, then his first chore would be to come looking for him. With him out of the way, his road would be clear.

  Stepping into the dark, warm shadows of the stables, he leaned against one of the tall wooden uprights and built himself a smoke, rolling the cigarette several times between his fingers before licking the paper and thrusting it between his lips. He did not feel like smoking at the moment, but a cigarette could have its uses.

  A dark shape drifted from the rear of the stables and a moment later, the groom stood beside him, eyeing him curiously.

  ‘Thought I recognized you, Marshal,’ muttered the other softly. He looked apprehensively up and down the deserted street. ‘You expectin’ trouble?’

  ‘I always expect trouble when a place is as quiet as this.’ Reaching into his pocket for a vesper, Frank struck it and touched the flame to the end of the cigarette. He flipped the spent match away. ‘It’s more ’n likely that Foran will ride into town with some of his boys. I’m hopin’ to be ready for him when he does.’

  The other looked startled. ‘You must be mad to take on that bunch alone.’ His eyes narrowed on Frank in sudden appraisal, and opened wider. ‘I saw what happened this afternoon. Pretty fancy shootin’, by Godfrey, Marshal. But you’ll need more ’n that to take on this bunch of hard-cases. You heard that Flint and Clay Macey have joined up with him?’

  ‘I heard,’ Frank said tonelessly. ‘I got an old score to settle with that pair when we meet up again.’

  The other gave a brief nod of his head. He held his silence for a matter of minutes, and at last said: ‘Guess this is as good a place to keep an eye on the street as any.’

  ‘So I figured.’ He made to say something more, then reached out and clamped a tight hold on the groom’s arm, urging him to remain silent. There was the faint sound of riders in the distance, approaching at a fast pace.

  Squinting into the encroaching darkness, he waited tensely. A few moments later, he saw the dust cloud thrown up by the oncoming horses. There were, he reckoned, a dozen men or so in the tightly-knit bunch.

  ‘That’s Foran all right,’ whispered the man beside him. He eased his way back into the darkness of the stables as Frank released his grip. A few seconds later, he was gone. Frank grinned faintly to himself as he dropped the cigarette and ground it out under his heel, crushing it into the dirt. His fingertips brushed the butts of the Colts at his waist. The men rode along the main street without slackening their pace, their faces touched alternately by light and shadow as they passed before the many lamplit windows. As they drew level, Frank recognized the tall, expensively-dressed figure of Witney Foran in the lead. The other reined up his mount sharply before the sheriff’s office, but did not get down. Instead, he sat straight in the saddle, motioned to the rest of the men with him to spread out a little, then called in a loud, ringing voice: ‘Step outside, Condor. I want a word with you.’ Remaining in the dark shadows, Frank eased both guns from their holsters, called softly: ‘I’m right behind you, Foran. Don’t make any sudden moves and you won’t get a bullet in the back. That goes for the men with you.’

  He saw the other stiffen suddenly in the saddle, remain taut, not turning his head. Eventually, Foran said: ‘You can’t down every one of us, Condor, no matter how good you, are.’

  ‘Maybe not. But I can sure plant a bullet in your back before any of your men can get me. Now state your business and then ride on out of town.’

  A pause, full of meaning, then the other said harshly: ‘I’ve come for my foreman, Condor. I don’t intend to leave without him. Fetch him out of jail and there’ll be no trouble. Refuse, and I’ll turn my boys loose. If I do that, you won’t have much of a town left by morning, I can promise you.’

  ‘Sorry. Carron stays where he is until his trial.’

  ‘You’ve got no right to hold him and you know it. Talbot’s the law in this town, not a jumped-up marshal who ain’t even got the authority to wear a badge. You lost that right when you ran out on your job back in Texas. I’ve been checkin’ up on you, Condor. I know everythin’ there is to know about you. You’re just a yeller-livered lawman who turned and ran when the goin’ got rough.’

  ‘If that’s what you think, then just make one funny move and find out for yourself.’

  ‘You’re bluffin’.’ There was a faint edge of uncertainty in the rancher’s tone now which was not lost on Frank. ‘For one thing. I know how you men work. You want to prove you’re a fast gun, so you wouldn’t shoot a man in the back, a man without a gun in his hand. That would sure spoil any reputation you’ve got. Besides, one man doesn’t have a chance against eleven.’

  ‘Two men, Foran,’ called another voice, coming from Frank’s right. A moment passed before he recognized it as belonging to Sheriff Talbot. Somehow, the other must have left the office and sneaked away around to the alley. Now he appeared in the faint light of the street. There was a shotgun in his hands levelled directly at the bunch in front of the building. ‘This here scattergun will make one hell of a mess of most of you if I was to pull the triggers. Now just do like the marshal says, boys, turn your mounts and hightail it out of town before I get a mite too nervous.’ Slowly, Frank stepped up behind the mounted men. A little of the tension drained out of him as he watched the Double Circle men wilt a little in the face of that terrible weapon in the sheriff’s hands. A Colt or a rifle they were quite prepared to face, but not the destruction caused by one of those guns. At that close range, Talbot was unlikely to miss.

  Foran stared down at the sheriff, venom in his glance. Through tightly-clenched teeth, he snarled, ‘You’ll regret this to your dyin’ day, Talbot. I figured you to have more sense than to try to go up against me. Seems I was wrong.’

  ‘Guess you’ve been wrong about a heap of things, Foran,’ retorted the other sharply. ‘You and your hired killers have been ridin’ roughshod over us for long enough. Now it’s our turn. Set one foot in Benton again, and I’m liable to blow your head off.’

  ‘That’s real fine talk.’ Flint Macey leaned forward over his pommel, addressing himself to Talbot. ‘Reckon I should’ve finished the job that I started this afternoon. But just remember this. We all make mistakes, sooner or later, and one of these days, I’ll meet up with you again, when you don’t have a shotgun in your hands and without Condor to back you up. Then you and me will have this out.’

  There was a faint sheen of perspiration on the sheriff’s face at the other’s words, but he held his ground defiantly. The shotgun never wavered.

  �
��Get movin’,’ he ordered tensely. ‘I’ll count up to ten. Any one of you still here by then will get a face full of lead.’

  Foran tightened his lips, then abruptly dragged on the reins, jerking his mount’s head around cruelly. ‘All right, boys,’ he said thinly. ‘We now know where we stand with this hombre. I won’t forget this. Talbot. Maybe you don’t know it right now, but you’ve just signed your death warrant.’

  Kicking spurs to his horse’s flanks, he drove it along the dusty street, the rest of his crew following him. Frank watched as they thundered out of town, then thrust the guns back into leather. He turned to the other as Talbot lowered the shotgun reluctantly. Grinning faintly, he said: ‘You put on a pretty good show there, old-timer. But we forced him to stand down.’

  Talbot nodded his head a trifle shakily. ‘Weren’t nothin’ else I could do and still live with myself,’ he muttered simply. Turning, he stepped into the office with Frank at his heels.

  After putting the gun back in the rack, he sank weakly into his chair, poured himself a glass of whiskey and downed it at a single gulp, grimacing as the raw liquor hit the back of his throat. ‘I needed that,’ he said hoarsely. ‘Care for one yourself?’

  Frank nodded, lowering his long body into the other chair, studying the other in the light of the oil lamp. He could guess at the effort it must have cost Talbot to do what he had just done. It was one thing to go against Foran, but another to brace him in the presence of the rest of his hired gunslingers.

  Finally, the sheriff stirred himself. His hand shook a little as he poured a second glass, but he forced himself to steady it. ‘Some of the ranchers rode in half an hour ago, Frank. They’re at the hotel right now. You want to talk to them right away?’

  ‘The sooner the better. I always reckon it’s best to strike while the iron is hot. We’ve shown Foran that we mean business, but that won’t stop him for long. Once the townsfolk see that he can’t have things all his own way they’re liable to get around to thinkin’ that maybe he can be licked, after all. That’s the one thing he’s afraid of right now.’

  ‘I guess you’re right.’ Talbot watched the other grow cold, keen. There was something really deadly about Frank Condor now, he decided. He had already made up his mind that if there was one man who might have a chance to save Benton and the surrounding territory, this was him. He glanced at the half-empty whiskey bottle for a lingering moment, then as if he had fought a mental battle within himself, he shook his head, picked it up and put it away in the cupboard behind him. ‘I’ll take you along to them.’

  Cupping his hand around the top of the lamp, he blew it out. There was just enough light filtering on to the floor through the windows for them to see by as they made their way to the door and out into the street.

  Four: Stampede

  There were six men gathered in one of the upper rooms of the hotel when Frank Condor pushed open the door and stepped inside, with the portly sheriff close on his heels. Cigar and cigarette smoke curled thickly in the air, shining bluely in the light of the two lamps set on the low table. There were stout wooden shutters across the windows so that not a chink of light showed through. Frank noticed this precaution with a feeling of relief. It was evident that these men were not prone to taking unnecessary chances, especially where their own livelihoods were at stake, yet there was something on each of their faces which told him clearly that they were men who had come out to this stretch of territory when it was nothing more than raw, untamed wilderness, and they had taken it and beaten it into shape by sheer guts and hard work.

  Now there was danger looming over it all, with the added threat of losing all they had fought and worked so hard for. If only he could put forward a sufficiently convincing argument, he might yet swing them all on to his side; or at least most of them.

  Frank knew some of them by name, nodded a greeting as he sat down. He glanced across at Talbot. The sheriff cleared his throat noisily, then said: ‘I guess we all know why we’re here. Frank has a proposition to put to you. It concerns Witney Foran.’

  ‘We guessed as much as that.’ Regan, short and balding, gave Frank a hard-bright stare, his gimlet eyes boring into the marshal. ‘We also know the sort of man Foran is. A cold-blooded killer like those other men on his payroll. Still, I reckon we ought to let you speak your piece, Marshal. Nothin’ to lose by just listenin’.’

  ‘I’m hopin’ that by the time you’ve all heard me out, you’ll do more than listen,’ Frank said quietly. ‘As I see it, this could be a matter of life and death as far as you are concerned, both collectively as well as individually. Foran is gettin’ all set to take over this territory. He’s been bringin’ in men from as far south as the Mexico border to back him up. He’s got everythin’ to gain and virtually nothin’ to lose by startin’ a range war here in Benton and running you all off your land.’

  ‘What makes you think he’s interested in us?’ asked Credin, leaning forward in his chair, his face serious. ‘He’s made no move in my direction that I know of and my land is out near the edge of the Badlands, scarcely any use to a man as big as he is.’

  ‘That’s where you’re wrong, where you could all be makin’ the biggest mistake of your lives. Foran won’t stop at pickin’ off the best land. He wants to be the undisputed boss of everything. When he’s got all of the land, he’ll take over the town. You don’t stop a man like that by hoping he’ll take no notice of you. There’s only one way to beat him and that’s for you all to band together, fight him.’

  ‘You sure talk big for a man who’s only just started packing a gun around town,’ said Credin. He looked and sounded unconvinced by the other’s argument. ‘I don’t aim to get all of my men, and myself, killed. It would be sheer suicide to go against him with all of those hired killers at his back.’ He stared at the redly glowing tip of his cigar.

  Stone, seated near the wall said: ‘I’m inclined to agree with Credin. We don’t stand a snowball in hell’s chance.’

  Frank sighed. As Talbot had said, it was going to be harder than he had thought to convince these men. Maybe if he had been in their shoes, he would have thought the same way. They were small men, content to graze their herds on small spreads, wanting nothing more than to be left in peace. So far, Foran had played it clever, moved in against only a few ranchers, ignoring the others. There was no incentive for these men to risk everything by fighting what must seem to them a suicidal battle against insuperable odds. Yet somehow he had to make them see the light.

  ‘I’ll agree that it looks that way on the surface,’ he admitted slowly. ‘But you’ve got to see this thing in its proper perspective. Foran’s being clever. He’s lettin’ you think you’re safe so long as you leave him alone. But all the time you’re doin’ that, he’s getting bigger and stronger every day with more men ridin’ in. But he isn’t God, you know. He lost three men today and Blackie Carron is locked away in jail, waiting to stand his trial for murder.’

  ‘You’ve got Foran’s foreman in jail?’ There was a faint note of incredulous disbelief in Credin’s voice. He looked startled. Swinging his gaze on Talbot, he went on: ‘How long do you reckon you can hold him there once Foran gets to hear about it?’

  ‘Foran already knows,’ Frank said incisively. ‘He rode into town a little while ago to try to bust Blackie out. He left in rather a hurry with his tail tucked between his legs.’ He saw the men exchange glances full of meaning.

  ‘Is that right, Sheriff?’ asked Regan.

  Talbot nodded ‘It’s right enough. Judge Fentry is out at Phil Carson’s place right now. Once he gets back into town, Carron will stand trial. If he’s found guilty — and this time it’s goin’ to be a real legal trial — then we’ll hang him.’

  ‘Reckon this puts a different light on the matter.’ Regan nodded, his eyes pinched a little, hiding the thoughts behind them. Twin lines creased his forehead. ‘I’ll admit I’ve been worried about Foran for some time. His spread borders mine along the banks of the Red. If what you say i
s true, Condor, then we shall have to fight to protect what we have.’

  ‘I’m not so sure.’ Stone got to his feet, took a couple of nervous turns around the room, puffing hard on his cigar. ‘Like you said a few moments ago, Marshal, Foran’s got nothin’ to lose by fighting. We’ve got everything. Seems a lot to put at stake on the slim chance that we might come out on top if we start anything. I’ve got a dozen men behind me, but none of them are gunmen like those Foran has.’

  ‘Don’t you see?’ Frank said harshly. ‘That’s why you have to act together. Individually, you’d go down. Foran has perhaps forty men at his back. If you act together, you’ll have almost three times that number.’

  ‘Even so somebody is sure to get killed. I’ve known range wars before and what came after.’

  Frank showed him a quick, straight glance. ‘I know how you feel. There’s plenty of it that I don’t like. But believe me, there is no other way of doing it. Foran is all cocked for violence and nothing is going to stop that. All we can do is try to be ready to meet it when it does come.’

  There was silence in the room for several minutes after that. Frank tried to read something into their faces, but they were inscrutable. Finally, it was Credin who spoke. ‘I’m sure we’ve all taken to heart what you’ve said, Marshal. And I’ll admit that most of it makes sense of a sort. Speaking for myself, I’m not so sure your idea is a good one. When it comes to going up against seasoned killers like the Maceys and Frisco, I’d like to be certain that the odds are tipped a little more in our favour than they seem to be at present.’

  ‘So what are you trying to say?’ Frank asked, his tone hard.

  ‘Just this. You’ve got Blackie Carron in jail awaiting trial. Ain’t no doubt in my mind that you could make that charge stick. Just the same, I don’t doubt that Foran won’t let you hang him, even if you was to find him guilty. So you go through with this, give Carron what he deserves and when I see him hanged, I’ll back you to the hilt.’