the High Graders (1965) (7 page)

As a member of the town council, he ha d directed the marshal in his duties. All he ha d learned now was that a stranger, a very salt y customer, had been up on Boot Hill lookin g at Eli's grave, but when he put that together with a few other items he could make a fairly saf e guess.

Gentry pushed his hat back on his head.

"Damn it, Ben! Seemed like old times, havin'

Mike around. He looks good, too."

Ben Stowe shuffled some papers on his desk an d wished Gentry would go. Gib had always been a bit of a damned fool. Always ready to pick u p a fast dollar, but carrying a wide streak o f sentiment. After all, he and Shevlin had neve r been all that thick.

"Look, Gib, you be careful what you say.

There was a meeting at the old mill last nigh t ... and then another man rode up through the rain.

My man thought it was either Hollister or somebod y following him. Whoever it was put a bullet in m y man."

"You can forget that. Mike never had a damn'
b it of use for Ray, and vice versa. Ray'
s small change, and Mike always knew it."

"I never cottoned to him, anyway," Ben sai d irritably. "I know he was a friend of yours, bu t what does it look like, him riding in just at thi s time? You know how tight everything is. If we hav e trouble now it could blow the lid off--or tighten i t up so hard it might be years before we could make i t pay off."

"Hollister's just a sorehead. He can'
t hurt us."

Ben Stowe gave him an impatient look.

"Gib, you never could see past your nose. There'
s one thing you forget--Ray Hollister could go to th e governor."

Gentry was incredulous. "The governor?

Aw, Ben, you're lettin' this get on you r nerves! What interest would the governor have in thi s place?"

"The governor," Ben Stowe replied , "married Jack Moorman's daughter, that'
s all. And if that isn't enough, the governor's fathe r rode in here on a cattle drive as a partner o f Jack's, and after his father died, Jac k practically raised him. He was in Washingto n when old Jack was killed, and if he had bee n governor then, he'd have raised hell."

Gentry shifted uneasily in his chair. Al l the pleased excitement of Shevlin's return wa s gone. He took his feet down from the desk an d wished he had never come to see Ben. Things jus t weren't the same any more. Ben was impatient al l the time; he never took time for a drink with him, neve r talked it up like in the old days. And now this about th e governor. Of course, he remembered it, now tha t he thought of it. He had forgotten, that was all.

Anyway, Jack Moorman had been dead fo r years--that was all over.

"Hollister couldn't prove anything," he said.

"He wasn't even there."

"There are some who were," Stowe replie d sourly, "and when a horse starts swishin' hi s tail there's no telling what burrs he'l l pick up."

Gentry was suddenly hot and uncomfortable. H
e had never forgotten the contempt in old Jack'
s eyes as they battered him to his knees. Tha t look had penetrated to the very core of Gentry'
s being, and for months he had waked up shaking with frigh t and bathed in sweat, remembering those eyes.

The old man never had a chance. Struck dow n from behind, his gun belt had been cut through, removin g any chance of resistance. They had not wanted to us e a gun or a knife. There was bad feeling between th e miners and the cattlemen, and it was pay day night.

They planned for it to look like something don e by drunken miners.

"If you think so much of Shevlin," Stowe wa s saying, "you get him out of here. He could mak e trouble."

When the door closed after Gentry, Stowe pu t his feet on his desk. No need to tell Gentr y the word on Shevlin was already out. There was no longe r any need to tell Gentry anything. After the y moved the gold, something would have to be done about Gi b Gentry. He had outlived his usefulness.

Gentry stood outside under the awning staring dow n the street. He bit the end from a fresh cigar.

The hell with Ben Stowe. The hell with the m all.

He had had more to drink than he had ever ha d before, but what did it mean, after all? He neve r had any fun any more, and Stowe had changed.

Hardly talked to him any more, and whenever Gentr y came around Ben made it seem as if he wa s talking nonsense, or was acting like a fool.

Gib Gentry stood there on the street an d looked bleakly into a future that held n o promise. He wasn't a kid any more. And h e was hitting the bottle too hard. He had known tha t for some time, but he had never actually allowed i t to shape into words before. Uneasily, his thoughts kep t returning to Ben Stowe. Ben was a hard man.

He had best step very lightly.

Suddenly he was swept by anger. Ste p lightly? Who the hell did Ben think he was , anyway? Why the hell should he step lightly fo r Ben Stowe or any other man?

Now Ben had told him to get Mike Shevli n out of town. Just how was he to go about that? It ha d been a long time since Gib had seen Mike o r heard more than vague rumors of him, but an y man with half an eye could see Mike Shevli n had been riding where the owl hooted and the long wind s blew ... no mistake about that.

It was a hell of a situation when a man lik e Shevlin might be killed--and he would take a lot of killing. Ben Stowe could be almight y dumb sometimes. He should be able to see that the bes t thing he could do would be to leave Mike Shevli n alone.

Gib Gentry had always considered himself a har d dangerous man, and he had been all of that, but h e was also a man with a love for reliving the old days , sharing a bottle, and talking of the old times. Th e truth was that Gib, like many another, had never quit e grown up. In reliving the old days and replayin g the old games, he avoided a hard look a t whatever future might lay ahead of him.

It was going to rain again; clouds were gathering ove r the mountains. Gentry's cigar had gone out. H
e stared at it, disgusted, and then turned and walke d down the street. Yes, Ben had changed. H
e cared damned little for his old friends. Somewhere in th e back of Gib's brain a tiny bell sounded it s warning, but Gib did not hear it. He was thinkin g about a drink.

Mike Shevlin followed Burt Parry up th e narrow canyon, between occasional trees , clumps of brush, and tumbled boulders o r slides of broken rock. When they reached th e claim Parry said, "There's good water at a spring about sixty yards up the canyon, and unles s you fancy yourself as a cook, I'll put the gru b together."

"By the time I'd eaten my own cooking th e second time, I decided against that."

He stripped the saddle from his horse, an d glanced around, but there was little enough to see. Parry'
s claim shanty stood on the bench made by th e mine's dump. It was a simple two-roo m cabin, hastily but securely put together. Abou t thirty feet from it was a small corral, on on e side of which was a lean-to shack used as a too l house. Beyond was the opening of the tunnel.

Up the canyon, just visible from where they stood , there was another dump, larger than their own. N
o buildings were visible there.

"Whose claim is that?" Shevlin asked.

"It's abandoned. That was the discovery claim fo r Sun Strike. The gold was found on the mes a right above there, so they decided to drift into the hil l from here, but they gave up when they found the or e body lay on the other side of the hill."

When they sat down to eat, darkness was filling th e canyon, softening all the harshness of the blea k hills. Shevlin, drinking his second cup o f coffee, was listening to the birds in the bottom of th e canyon. Suddenly, the sound ceased. Parry wa s talking, and if he noticed the change he gav e no indication of it.

"Many visitors out here?" Shevlin asked.

"The vein seems to be widening out, and I b elieve in about sixty feet ... What was that yo u said?"

"I asked if you had many visitors?"

"Here? Why would anybody come out here? The y all think I'm crazy to work this claim. I h aven't had two visitors in the past fou r months."

"How far back does this canyon go?"

Parry shrugged. "How the hell should I know?

I never followed it up. About a mile furthe r along it narrows down to just a slash in the mountain.

They say you can touch both sides with outstretche d arms. Hell of a mess of rock back in there."

Mike Shevlin got up and went to the door.

He stood there, leaning against the doorjamb. I t might have been a roving lion, but he ha d a hunch the birds had shut up because a man wa s passing.

"When you get up in the morning," Parry said , "you can muck out that rock I shot down on m y last shift. I'll be riding back into town."

"It's a prosperous town," Shevlin commented.

"Less you say about that the better. I sta y away from town most of the time, and I never talk abou t anything but my own claim, or whatever news w e hear from out of town."

At daylight, with Parry gone, Mik e Shevlin went into the tunnel and settled dow n to work. He had always rather liked working with a shovel; i t had the advantage of giving a man time to think, an d he had a lot of that to do.

What it shaped up to was that Ray Holliste r had been using the cattlemen as a wedge to ge t back into power, a power he had been aced out o f ... and somebody was going to get hurt.

Ben Stowe was no hot-headed, conceited foo l like Hollister. He was cold, cruel, and tough i n a way Hollister never dreamed of. I f Hollister chose to get himself killed, that was his ow n business, but the way he was headed he would ge t others killed as well.

Eve believed in Hollister, and it was likel y that she was a little in love with him. Babcock wa s fiercely loyal to Hollister, as he had alway s been; but had he any idea what Hollister wa s planning?

The town was rich and suspicious and frightened. I t was afraid of losing its riches, it was afraid o f being exposed, and yet every one of them probabl y knew the lid was about to blow off.

Somebody had killed Eli Patterson an d Jack Moorman, then had moved in and take n control. Undoubtedly all reports leaving tow n went from Ben Stowe's office. The shift bosse s would be carefully selected henchmen of his.

Everyone in town, in one way or another, had a stake in keeping things as they were.

There was, of course, Wilson Hoyt.

If there was one man Shevlin hoped to have on hi s side it was Hoyt, and so far as he knew , Hoyt was incorruptible. He was a man o f simple purpose. His job was to insure peace i n the town, and that he intended to do. Hoyt, Shevli n was sure, had no hand in what was going on, althoug h he might be aware of it. He would make no stan d unless somehow it affected his work.

While Mike's mind was busy with these thoughts , he kept working with his shovel. Now he wheeled hi s loaded wheelbarrow to the end of the plank runway an d dumped it. As he turned around to go back, h e saw Eve Bancroft ride her horse up o n the dump.

"You're wasting your time," she said. "There's n o high-grade there."

"I was beginning to guess as much." He sense d her dislike, and wondered why she had come.

Her eyes seemed to tighten a little. "Mike , we want you on our side."

He put the wheelbarrow down and straightene d up. "You're choosing up sides? What for?"

He pushed his hat back and wiped away the swea t with the back of his hand. "You don't think shooting a few miners will stop them, do you?"

She repressed her animosity wit h difficulty. "When this fight is over this will b e cattle country again, and nothing but cattle."

"You can't drive pigs from a trough with a switch."

"Ray thinks different."

"Hollister always tried taking in too muc h territory, but he's not that much of a fool."

Her fury flared. "Ray Hollister was a big man here before, and he will be again! Now that he'
s back, things will change!"

"Eve," Shevlin said patiently , "Hollister will get you hurt. He was never a big man anywhere, and never will be. He just can'
t cut the mustard. Years ago, when you were just a child , Ray Hollister had a good ranch that could have kep t him comfortable for the rest of his days, but it wasn't enoug h for him.

"He wanted to be top dog. He hung aroun d Jack Moorman, and when Jack spat, Ra y spat twice as hard; when Moorman grumbled , Ray swore. Well, he tried to be bigge r than he was cut out to be, and they ran him out of th e country. This time they'll bury him."

"You're jealous! You were always afraid of him!"

"Ask him about the whipping I gave him out a t Rock Springs. The truth is, Eve, tha t nobody was ever afraid of Ray."

She wheeled her horse, her features rigi d with anger. "I've tried for the last time! You leav e the country, Mike Shevlin, and leave it fast!

You've had your chance."

Regretfully, he watched her rac e her horse down the canyon. She was a prett y young woman, but Ray Hollister had convinced her , and she was one of those who could never see the othe r side of any question. ... Ray was not so old, whe n you came to think of it. He would be abou t thirty-eight now, and Eve Bancroft was twent y or so. And that much of a spread in ages was no t uncommon in the West. ... or in othe r places, for that matter.