Where the Long Grass Blows (1976) (8 page)

"You may have heard about what I told Reynolds in here the other night. I could tell him more, and I haven't started on Pogue yet. I'd just as soon you told no one that I intend to. He ran old man Carter off his place. Then he had Emmett Chubb kill Vin Carter.

That's one of the things that brought me here."

"Revenge?"

"Well ... I don't call it that You might-was He leaned toward her, eager for her to understand. "We don't have much law in this country. Local marshals take care of the crime in their towns, or they are supposed to. Emmett Chubb picked a fight with Vin when he was drunk. ... He didn't even know what he was doing. It was murder. But when the marshal came up, Vin had a gun in his hand.

They called it self-defense, and Chubb actually laughed when they said it. No law could touch him, but there are other laws, the laws men make and adhere to in wild country. And one of them is the law of fair play.

"Sure, this is a rough country, and the men have rough ways. But most of them are basically honest Nevertheless, we have a marshal here who was practically appointed by Charlie Reynolds. And the nearest court is approximately a hundred miles away and through Indian country.

"If we find a dog or a wolf with rabies, we kill him. If we find a man who kills wantonly, sooner or later he has to be killed. If two men get into a fight and all is equal, regardless of who is in the right, nothing is said and this even though the skills of the two men may vary considerably. But if a man is shot in the back without a fair chance, usually action is taken on the spot "Vin Carter was my friend. He has no one else to act for him. He was not a gunfighter, only a brave young man who was a fair shot. But on the night he was killed, he was so drunk he could scarcely see.

He had no idea what was happening to him, so it was murder.

"Perhaps before this is over, men like Chubb, being what they are, I shall have the chance to even the measure with Chubb. I shall not have to seek him.

Eventually, he will come to me. That is simply between us. The rest of it is something else.

"Pogue and Reynolds acquired their ranches through a ruthless use of power, of money and guns.

And they are now in a feud. Neither of them has any claim on their property but possession.

But when the shooting is over, there may be a different situation in the Soledad country. I shall have my ranch."

"Where, Bill?"

His pulse leaped at her use of his first name, the first time she had done so. He shrugged. "Let's wait and see."

The smile left his face. "By the way, as we parted the other evening a man made a point of saying you were a staked claim, and to stay away from you."

"What did you do?" Her eyes were thoughtful, curious, and somewhat amused.

"I told him he was a fool to believe any woman was a staked claim unless she wanted it so. He said, nevertheless, that you were staked out. If you are curious, you might as well know that I didn't believe him. Also," he smiled, "I wouldn't have paid any attention if I did."

"I'd have been surprised if you had." She arose, touching his hand lightly. "I must go now."

He stood waiting as she said: "Nevertheless, Bill, what he said was true."

Bill Canavan's heart seemed to stop. "You mean ... his Well, what do you mean?"

"That I am engaged to marry Star Levitt. I have been engaged to him for three months." She turned quickly and was gone.

He stared after her. His thoughts refused to accept what she had said. Dixie Venable engaged to Star Levitt! So where did that leave him? Out in the cold, no doubt Well, he was used to that. It was often chilly where he was. Nevertheless, he was suddenly discouraged.

When he had come to the Valley he had come seeking a ranch. What if he gained the ranch but never had this girl? A ranch by himself now seemed a very empty and lonely dream.

He dropped back into his chair. "Some hot coffee?

It was May, smiling down at him.

"Please," he said. And then he added, speaking softly into the empty air, "So that's the way it is?

I find a girl worth having and she belongs to somebody else."

"Mind if I sit down?"

He looked up to see Allen Kinney, the hotel clerk, standing beside his table. "Please do," he said, "and have some coffee."

May delivered the coffee, and for a few minutes there was silence. "Canavan," Kinney asked suddenly, "you'd do a lot for a friend, wouldn't you?"

Surprised, he glanced up, and Kinney's eyes warned him of what was coming. "Why, sure." And even as he spoke he was thinking over what was coming, forwitha flash of intuition he guessed what Kinney had on his mind.

He should have known before this, for there was no other place. This was a Walt Pogue, Charlie Reynolds town.

"I've no right to ask this, but from the first you struck me as a man who went his own way, and who was not afraid. I consider myself a friend, whether you realize it or not, and somehow I feel we are on the same side. But I have no right to ask you to help, and you'd be sticking your neck out ... way out."

"It's been out before. It's been out ever since I hit town."

"You have no local ties so far as I can see, and there's no one else I can turn to. And-was "You're right. I have no local ties, and I just had the only possible one cut off short. What do you want me to do? Get him out of town?"

Kinney's cup almost dropped from his hand. "You mean? You know?"

"I just guessed. Where else could he go? Is he hurt bad?"

"He can ride ... I think. He's a good man, Bill, one of the very best. And if they find him they'll murder him. I had no idea what to do, and I know they will think of the hotel soon. It is a miracle that they haven't already."

"You've got him here?" Canavan was startled.

"Then we'd best get him out tonight, while the getting is good."

"He's in the potato cellar, in a box covered with potatoes. It was all I could think of at the moment."

"Why me? How'd you happen to choose me?"

"Like I said, you've no local ties that I know of.

And you have a way about you that speaks of independence.

Then ... May suggested it, and Dixie."

"She knows?"

"I thought of her first. The VV is out of this fight so far, and it seemed the only place. But she told me that although she would like to, there were reasons why it would be absolutely the worst place. Then she suggested you."

"She did?"

"Uh-huh. She said if you liked Burt you would do it. And you might even do it as a slap in the face for Pogue and Reynolds."

Canavan considered that. Without doubt Dixie had an idea of what was going on around the country, probably knowing a good deal more than anyone guessed. How many times might she have listened when the others plotted and planned?

"We can't wait. It will have to be done now. Have you got a spare horse?"

"Not that I can get without attracting attention.

May has one at her place, out on the edge of town. The problem is to get him there."

"I'll handle it. You throw us together a sack of grub from the hotel restaurant's supplies. Do it without anybody knowing, if you can. When I come back to town, I can get what we need without questions."

Canavan got to his feet. "Get him ready to move.

I'll get my horse down to May's and come back." He listened while Kinney gave him directions, then turned to the door.

It was too late.

A dozen hard-riding horsemen came charging up the street and swung down before the hotel. One man stepped up on the boardwalk and strode into the hotel. It was Walt Pogue. The man on his right was the man who had been with Berdue at Thousand Springs.

"Kinney. I want to search the hotel! That killer Roily Burt is in town, an' by the lord Harry we'll hang him from a cottonwood limb before midnight!"

"Why would he be here?" Kinney spread his hands. He was pale, but completely self-possessed.

He might have been addressing a class in history or reading a paper before a literary group. "I know Burt, but I haven't seen him. And why would he come here, of all places?"

Chapter
VIII

Unobtrusively Bill Canavan was lounging against the door to the kitchen, his mind working swiftly. They would find Burt, and there was no earthly way to prevent it. There might be a chance to delay the hanging, if such it was to be. He had made up his mind there was to be no hanging. He knew nothing of Burt beyond the comments of those who mentioned him, but he sounded like the kind of a man Canavan liked. The very fact that those men were against him spoke in his favor.

"What you so worried about, Pogue?" he drawled.

Walt Pogue turned squarely around to face him.

"Oh, it's you! What part do you have in this?"

"None at all. Just wondering what all the excitement's about. From all I hear, the man was attacked and he defended himself ... did a mighty good job of it, too, I'd say. I'd say he did what a man should, and did it well. And he's no candidate for a lynching."

"He killed a Box n man."

"Seems to me a Box n man can die as well as any other. All three of them were grown-up men, and all three had guns, which makes it a fair fight.

Seems kind of curious, too, why all the CR men are suddenly out of town. Are they that scared?"

"This is none of your deal!" It was the man from Thousand Springs. "Was I you, I'd stay out of what doesn't concern you."

Bill Canavan still leaned against the door, but slowly, carefully, contemptuously, he looked the man over, top to toe. Then he said gently, "Pogue, you've got a taste for knickknacks. If you want to take this boy home with you, you'd better keep him out of trouble."

Angered, the rider took a quick step forward. "All right, damn you! You're askin' for it!"

Pogue lifted a hand. "Forget it, Voyle!

We've other fish to fry! You go look for Burt. I'll talk to Canavan."

Voyle hesitated, eager for a fight, but Canavan did not move, lounging carelessly against the doorpost, a queer half-smile on his face.

With an abrupt movement, Voyle turned away and spoke over his shoulder. "We'll talk about it another time, Canavan!"

"Sure," Canavan drawled lazily.

And then as a parting he said softly, "Want to bring Dahl with you?"

Voyle caught himself in mid-stride, hunching his shoulders as if from an expected blow. He stopped then and stared back, shock, confusion, and uncertainty on his face.

Canavan looked over at Pogue. "You carry some odd characters. That Voyle now? Touchy, isn't he?"

Pogue was staring at him from under his brows.

"What was that you said about Dahl? He's not one of my riders!"

"Is that right?" Canavan smiled, then shrugged.

"Well, you got to admit I haven't been here very long, and I don't know who rides for whom around here.

Somehow or other I figured Dahl an' Voyle trailed their ropes together."

Walt Pogue was annoyed and angry, and a little frightened. Why would Canavan tie those two together?

Was he just talking or did he know something?

How could he know anything? Another thought came to him. Where had Canavan come from, anyway? Who was he? What was he doing here, right now? So far as Pogue was aware, Dahl and Voyle were not even acquainted. Yet, thinking back to Voyle's startled reaction, he decided he did not like it, not any of it He walked to the coffee pot and filled a cup, adding cream and sugar liberally. Then he glanced over his shoulder at Canavan.

May had come up behind him. "He's gone." she whispered. "He's not there!"

There was dust on her dress. He slapped at it, and she hurriedly brushed the dust away. "Where was he shot?" he whispered.

"In the upper leg, I think. He couldn't go far."

Pogue stared at them. "What are you two whispering about?" he demanded.

Canavan shrugged. "You are touchy. Can't a man talk to a pretty girl without you getting upset?

I'd suggest you mind your own affairs."

Pogue put down the coffee cup. "Now you just see here! Nobody talks to-was "Pogue," Canavan said quietly, "if I were you I would think very carefully before you say anything more. I don't work for you, and it isn't likely that I ever will. And nobody tells me when to talk to a girl, or how I talk back to a man. So just back off.

... Back off, I say!"

For a moment, Pogue hesitated. He realized with startled awareness that he had brought himself to the verge of a gunfight with a man who didn't know enough to be afraid of him. For several years now he had talked just about as he willed, had run roughshod over many smaller men, and his manner had grown brusque and hard-shouldered as a result. A good man with a gun himself, he had come to rely on other men to do his fighting. Now, suddenly, he had talked himself into a corner, and he did not like having to back up. But wisdom advised it as the better way.

After all, he now had too much to lose, while this casual drifter had nothing but his hide.