Hardcase Law

by Neil Webb

  The girl came riding up and dismounted. She glanced at the prone, silent figure of her father lying dead in the yard. Latimer felt a thin wedge of emotion split through the hardness around his heart. He noted the many bullet holes and scars on the front wall of the cabin that denoted the bitter fight which had taken place. He saw another still figure sprawled in the dust. Then he thought of his own dead folks, and was not surprised, even after all the passing years, to feel a trickle of grief splash over the unhealed scars in his heart and mind.

  ‘It was some of the KS outfit, Mr Church.’ Aggie Porter looked round hopelessly. ‘My father always said that Kenton Stott would do just this when he won his big war, but no one would listen. Now it has happened. My kin are dead, and there’s no one to help me square matters.’

  ‘You’re forgetting me,’ Latimer said quietly. He spoke from his heart, knowing that men who acted so usually did the wrong thing. He had watched the funerals of many men, gunmen, who had acted from sudden humane principles. They had all done the wrong thing. Now it seemed to be his turn. But he did not care. All his life he had nursed a hatred for coldblooded killers, because his own family had lain stiff in the dust, dead before their time, murdered by a killer’s merciless bullets.

  ‘Who are you, Mister?’ asked Hank Church, studying Latimer with discerning eyes.

  ‘He’s my cousin Frank Latimer, from Idaho,’ Aggie Porter said quickly. ‘Meet Hank Church, Frank.’

  ‘Howdy,’ Latimer said.

  Church’s eyes took in every detail of Latimer’s appearance. Then he nodded, lowering his rifle.

  ‘Good thing for Aggie you turned up, Frank. What are your plans now?’

  ‘We haven’t had much time to think about that,’ Latimer replied. ‘At first I figured on fighting. But on second thoughts that seems like a straight trail to suicide. I reckon me and Aggie had better ride back to Idaho.’

  ‘I’m not leaving!’ Aggie ejaculated. ‘Not when I look around here and see all the work my father’s done on this place; when I think of all the time he spent toiling from dawn to dusk.’ A sob broke her voice. ‘I’m not going to run. My father didn’t when Kenton Stott sent his ultimatum. I’m going into Buffalo Springs to let everyone know what kind of a man Stott really is.’

  ‘If Stott gets to hear that, you’ll be as dead as your father,’ Latimer said patiently. ‘You’ve said that you have no law in this country. If that’s the case then the men of power hold sway, and that means Kenton Stott. All he’s got to do is send ten gun-slingers this way. They’d ride rough-shod over us. We’d probably beat a few of them, but the others would trample us into the ground.’

  ‘We’ve got to do something,’ the girl said urgently.

  ‘The first thing is to bury the dead,’ said Church. He glanced at Latimer. ‘If you’ll tell me where you want the graves we can start digging.’

  Latimer glanced at the girl. ‘Rustle up some grub, will you? I can see there’s a grave over there under those trees. We’ll bury your father and brother under there.’

  The girl nodded and went silently into the cabin. Latimer and Church went to the barn, picked up a couple of shovels, then went to dig the graves.

  By the time they had finished burying the two corpses it was mid-afternoon. Latimer washed himself at the horse trough. Church, after doing likewise rolled himself a smoke and offered Latimer the makings. When they were both smoking and relaxed, Church made conversation.

  ‘What about the dead gunman, Frank?’ he demanded.

  ‘I’ll be taking Aggie into Buffalo Springs. I figure to talk to the law, such as it is.’

  ‘Your lives won’t be worth a plugged nickel if any of the KS outfit catch up with you when news of what you’ve done gets out. Why don’t you and Aggie stop by my place and stay awhile? Until things blow over, that is. Then you can decide what to do next.’

  ‘That’s mighty kind of you, Church. But that would be putting your life in danger. You’ll likely know this Stott hombre better than me. You’ll know which way he’s most likely to jump. What kind of a man is he?’

  ‘He’s bad. He makes big tracks round here and I don’t mean by the number of riders on his payroll. Kenton Stott is the size of two ordinary men, and weighs as much as a fat steer. He ain’t got no wife. She died some years back giving birth to Glory Stott. Glory will be about sixteen now. She’s the only critter Stott cares about. He would do anything for her. But he ain’t a nice man no-how. He’s mean right through, although you wouldn’t think so to look at him. I think he’s a bit touched by the heat, or something. He’s been fighting the whole world for as long as I’ve been here. And what’s more, he wins most of the time.’

  ‘So he’s a real tough galoot, huh?’

  ‘There’s something wrong with him, that’s for sure. There’s something strange about Kenton Stott. You can sense it. Folks say that the trouble with him is he was first to settle on the range here. He grabbed so much grass you can’t ride around his fences within ten days. Now he’s afraid of farmers and nesters moving in on him. He fought a big war not long ago and won it. He burned out Art Fuller and killed him, and Art had a big ranch north of Stott; had been there fifteen years.’

  ‘Why did he pick on the Porters?’

  ‘No reason at all, except that Porter’s land joins his own. I figure I’ll be next, being a neighbour like Porter was.’

  ‘Why don’t you up stakes and pull out?’

  ‘A man don’t like running from his home.’ Church exhaled a long stream of blue smoke and threw away his stub.

  ‘It’d be better than dying in it. You could always start again somewhere else.’

  ‘Some men just can’t make a fresh start in life,’ Hank Church said slowly, shaking his head.

  ‘There’s Aggie waving,’ Latimer said. ‘Grub must be ready. Let’s go and eat.’

  After they’d eaten, Latimer pushed aside his plate. ‘I haven’t tasted such good cooking for as long as I can remember,’ he said. ‘Aggie, Hank Church offered for us to go to his place for a spell, and I think you had better do that until I get things sorted out around here. I reckon I can put an end to your troubles before anything else happens.’

  For a long moment the bereaved girl stood looking at Latimer, and he could see some kind of a fight going on inside her. She stood stiff and straight, with her hands clenched close to her sides. But suddenly she sighed and drooped, and all her resistance fled.

  ‘Alright, Frank. You’ll do what should be done. I wouldn’t be any use to you, anyway.’

  ‘That’s right,’ he growled. ‘Now if you’ll give me some directions I’ll ride into town and get things moving. Afterwards I’ll come out to your place, Church.’

  Twenty minutes later Church and Aggie Porter rode out leaving Latimer alone in the cabin. Latimer took a good look around and then went to the well to get himself a drink. It was late afternoon now, but he did not hurry. It would suit him to reach Buffalo Springs after dark. There was an expression of anticipation on his face, and a tight-lipped smile. A strong current of violence flowed through him, always keeping just below the surface, and now he had made up his mind to go into action there was a certain eagerness in his manner, in his every movement. His heart beat faster and there was a tightness in his chest. He was like a predatory animal which had scented its prey. He moved to his horse and stepped up into the saddle. It was then a string of shots and their fading echoes throbbed through the pulsating stillness of the vast open range.

  TWO

  Latimer’s mount pranced at the disturbance and he brought the animal under instant control with his knees and hands, turning the beast to look in the direction Church and Aggie had taken. He saw several riders in the middle distance, and his heart sank. There were about half a dozen men out there, and the shooting indicated that they must be Stott men.

  He opened his saddle-bag and took out a pair of long range glasses. The lens brought the group almost to his nose, and Latimer’s lips hardened into a snarl when h
e saw Aggie struggling in the grasp of a bearded range rider. An empty saddle in the group caught his eye, and shifting his gaze, he saw Hank Church spread out dead upon the ground. Even as he watched, the rider holding Aggie sat her back in her saddle and took her reins. He swung away and set off at a canter, leading the girl out of the group. The other five riders turned towards the cabin, and came riding boldly forward.

  Latimer dismounted, easing his rifle from the saddle holster as he stepped down. He tethered his mount to a post, loosened his sixgun in its holster, then ran forward to the cover of the well. He threw himself down and checked his Winchester. The smile was still on his face while he waited for the riders to draw into range.

  The five came on boldly. Either they hadn’t spotted Latimer or they were contemptuous of his ability to fight five of them. They moved forward in a tight bunch and came at a canter.

  Latimer eased back his Stetson and cuffed sweat from his forehead. He waited until the group was within one hundred yards before lifting his rifle to his shoulder. Then he waited. The riders drew within eighty yards. He grinned wolfishly. In the back of his mind there was a picture of Hank Church stretched out on the ground. He hated killers. They were out in the open, with no cover. His eyes narrowed to slits and a thrill filtered through him.

  He closed his left eye and aimed at the foremost rider. He knew what would happen to him if they got within range and surrounded him. There was no doubt in his mind as to what he should do. The flat crack of his first shot had barely begun to echo when his target slid from his saddle. The remaining four pulled up, and in the seconds that they sat frozen in shock and surprise, Latimer downed two more. He shifted his aim smoothly as the last two men pulled on their reins to get away. His killing rifle spat again and another saddle was swept clear. Then he paused. The fifth rider turned his mount and went galloping away, bent over the horse’s head.

  Latimer sneered. He raised the rifle and fired. The galloping horse gave a great bound into the air as lead bored through its chest. It cartwheeled and crashed heavily, raising dust upon impact. The rider was thrown clear. Latimer watched. The man fell limply, lay still for a moment, then struggled to his feet. He staggered a few uncertain steps, then sprawled upon his face.

  Latimer stood up. He squinted his eyes and studied the scene of slaughter. The horses of the men had run off a hundred yards, and now stood grazing. Latimer went to his horse, swung into the saddle, and rode out to the small killing ground. He reloaded the rifle as he went and returned it to its scabbard. Then he drew his Colt and rode warily.

  Four of the riders were dead, killed outright by his fast but sure shooting. He grinned. A man shouldn’t underestimate another, he thought as he moved on. But how could these carrion have known that they were riding down Link Latimer? His grin widened. There was only one Link Latimer.

  He turned away and headed for the fifth rider, who had now raised himself to a sitting position and was staring at Latimer as the tall rider bored down upon him. The man held a Colt in his hand, but he was dazed, and kept shaking his head. He tried to lift his Colt as Latimer reached him, but his gun arm was broken and he couldn’t raise the weapon. He was too bemused to transfer the gun to his other hand.

  Latimer dismounted and went forward. The man offered no resistance, and Latimer took the Colt from his useless hand. The man’s horse lay gasping and squealing where it had fallen. Latimer’s bullet had torn out its chest. The tall gunslinger shook his head sadly and put a bullet through the animal’s head. He watched it kicking convulsively, then turned back to his prisoner. He felt sorry about the horse but felt nothing for the men. They were not men. They were paid killers. It had been men like these, he reflected, who had killed his own folks years ago.

  ‘Get up,’ he ordered.

  The man shrugged. He pointed to his left leg. The limb was twisted. Latimer grinned heartlessly. He swung back into his saddle and set off at a gallop, moving in the direction Aggie’s captor had taken. Reaching Hank Church, he reined in but did not dismount. It was obvious that the rancher was dead. There was a great stain of blood on Church’s chest.

  Latimer went on again, looking ahead. To his surprise Aggie Porter was riding towards him. He galloped up to her and they reined in a few yards apart. Their horses moved together.

  ‘How did you manage to get away from that gun-slick?’ he asked.

  ‘I shot him in the back,’ she replied sharply. There was shock in her face and she was making an effort to maintain control of her emotions. ‘He was leading my horse.’ She showed him a small gun which she carried in a pocket of her Levi’s. ‘Where are the other five?’

  ‘Didn’t you hear the shooting?’ he grinned.

  ‘You haven’t killed them all?’ She spoke in a shocked tone.

  ‘No. One of them has a broken arm and a broken leg. But the other four are dead. They came hunting trouble, and they sure enough found it. That’s the way of this world. Look for trouble and you’ll always find it.’

  ‘Four dead,’ she said quietly. ‘That makes five men you’ve killed today.’

  ‘They weren’t men, they were wolves,’ he said bitterly. His eyes were slitted and mean. ‘They drew wages for their gun skill. They ain’t worth pitying. I’ve got no sympathy for their kind. And why shouldn’t I kill them? They would have killed me. They shot Hank Church in cold blood, didn’t they?’

  ‘Is he dead?’ she faltered.

  ‘Sure is.’

  ‘Poor Mr Church!’ She shook her head sadly. ‘Perhaps they wouldn’t have killed him if he hadn’t tried to draw on them. But he was only trying to protect me.’

  ‘Did your father open up on them first?’

  ‘No. They fired as they came up to the cabin.’

  ‘Well it proves that I did right,’ said Latimer. ‘Shoot first and ask questions afterwards is good insurance.’

  ‘You love killing! I can see it in your face.’ Her eyes showed her troubled feelings. ‘I wish I’d never asked you to help me. You are an outlaw.’

  ‘I am, and I’m a killer of killers,’ he said. ‘It’s a good thing for you that I am. But apart from the robberies I’ve done, I don’t consider myself a bad man. It’s been my reputation that’s kept me on the wrong trail, and the reward money on my head has lured many get-rich-the-hard-way johnnies to their deaths. Many a time I’ve killed a man in self defence and they’ve put up the price on me.’

  ‘You’ll never be able to run from your reputation,’ she said softly. ‘It’ll catch up with you one day.’

  ‘I know.’ He grinned deceptively. ‘Someone will stop me one day. I’ll meet a gunman who is faster than me, or someone who will get me in the back to claim the reward. It happens to every gunslinger. I’ve known that for a long time. But I’ve had a good run, and that’s why I’m trying to make a fresh start now. But I know it’s no use. My past will certainly catch up with me. Maybe it’ll come this time, because I’m aiming to line myself up against Kenton Stott and his KS spread.’

  ‘They’ll kill you,’ she told him. ‘One man can’t fight a band of hard killers. I don’t want your death on my conscience.’

  ‘I’m coming into this on my own accord,’ he told her. ‘They shot at me, remember? There’s more than one way to fight. It doesn’t pay to ride in with blazing guns every time. Come on, let’s get back to your place and prepare to ride into town. We’re going to shock some of the folks there when we show up.’

  They rode back to the cabin, and Latimer sneered as he passed the dead gunmen. He turned aside and went to fetch the grazing mounts, and while the girl went into the house he roped the other bodies into their saddles. When he had finished, he carried the injured KS rider into the cabin and left him there. Aggie put food and water within the man’s reach.

  ‘Now let’s ride,’ said Latimer. ‘We’ll get the sheriff to send someone out for this galoot. That’s why I didn’t kill him. We want evidence that Stott’s men attacked this place. Let’s get on into town and start things moving.�
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  Buffalo Springs was a fair-sized town. Along the main street the wooden buildings, except for the saloons, had all been replaced by more stable constructions of brickwork. Latimer looked around with interest as Aggie led the way to the jail. He smiled a little when he saw townsfolk follow his cavalcade along the street, for he was leading six horses, each with a corpse roped across the saddle. By the time they stopped outside the law office a crowd of some thirty or forty citizens was gathered, with more people coming in from all directions.

  Latimer noted several horses bearing the KS brand standing at various hitch rails along the street. He felt edgy now that he was on the threshold of action, and ignored the questions of the thronging townsfolk. He dismounted and tethered his horse, securing the lead rope of the six animals he had brought into town. He waited for Aggie to dismount, and they crossed the sidewalk together and entered the sheriff’s office.

  Latimer shut the door against the excited crowd and stood with his back to it. He looked around as Aggie went forward to where a pasty-faced old man was sitting in a chair behind a paper-strewn desk. A shiny law badge was pinned on the old man’s vest. Latimer smiled wryly. So this was the sheriff. He looked a poor type of man, and Latimer guessed that was why there was all this trouble in the County.

  There were two other men in the office, and Latimer looked at them, noting the law stars they were wearing. They were both deputies. One was tall and thin, very young. A raw kid, Latimer estimated. The other man was beefy and of middle age. Latimer summed him up as a rough handful. Both deputies were wearing two guns in thonged-down holsters.

  ‘What’s the commotion outside, Walker?’ the sheriff asked, and the younger deputy crossed over to the window and peered outside.

  ‘For gosh sake’s, sheriff, there are six dead men roped to their horses.’ The Youngster’s voice shrilled with nervous shock. ‘Six of them!’

  ‘Go and check ’em, Barr,’ the sheriff ordered, and his tired eyes flickered over Latimer as the big deputy moved to the door. ‘Did you bring them in, mister?’