The mouth of the canyon at this end opened onto a large green meadow
, which was bisected by a small stream. A brush corral had been constructed at one end of the meadow with steep, rocky walls forming the other three sides, creating a large pasture. Opposite the pasture, there were several lean-tos in which Jeff found some cooking implements and tack.
There were
two horses in the pasture, and this gave Jeff cause to wonder. He sat there on his horse for several minutes, his senses straining to catch any sight, sound, or smell that may indicate the presence of someone else in the area. Finally, he moved across to the remains of what had undoubtedly been a branding fire and dismounted to check it. It was plain to see the rustlers used this place often, but the fire and other signs he found told him they had left on the previous day. He walked over to the pasture, leading his horse, and looked over the two horses within. They both wore the Double T brand.
Jeff considered this for a moment. On the surface it would seem
that the Double T was doing the rustling, but there were still some things that needed explaining, such as Fogarty’s involvement in it. He was obviously involved, and if Fogarty was connected to the Double T, so was Stewart.
Then
, another thought occurred to Jeff. He liked it better and hoped it was true: Perhaps the Double T was not involved at all and the horses had been stolen. But if that was the case, why had they been left here? The cattle had obviously been pushed through the mountain into this meadow where their brands were altered, and from here, they were probably being driven south to Stewart’s ranch. Why, then, had the two horses been left behind?
Jeff unsaddled his pon
y and turned it in to the pasture to graze for a while and to drink from the brook, while he ate lunch from his meager supplies. Afterwards, he washed up and refilled his canteen from the sweet waters of the brook. He re-saddled his horse and began following the trail the rustlers had taken with their stolen cattle.
By all appearances the brakes on this side of the mountain were no less vast and confusing than those on the other side, but
he was following an easy trail and he made good time, soon finding himself in open country. Here the trail merged with another trail; one that led north and south. Though Jeff had never been on this one, he knew what trail it was. Northward, it led around the tail of the mountain and into the valley, and southward it led beyond the mountains to where trails forked off in several directions including south to Jeff’s home range. This trail was more rugged and circuitous than the one Jeff had followed into the valley the year before when he had stumbled into the camp of the ill-starred Gordon Stone and Billy Dell.
He
surveyed the surrounding terrain, searching for a landmark he could use to locate the trail to the pass—if he ever needed to—from this side of the mountain. He found one: a uniquely formed boulder with a dome-shaped top. Marking this location in his mind, he turned his horse and retraced his path back to the rustler’s pass. As he approached it from this side, he understood why it had remained a secret for so long. The opening at this end of the canyon, like the one at the other, was only apparent from close up; appearing from a distance to be a mere indentation in the rock.
Night was fast approaching and Jeff considered what to do. He wa
s tired and so was his horse, but he was out of food and anxious to get back. He roped the two Double T horses and switched his saddle and bridle to one of them. He made two rope hackamores, then broke down a part of the brush fence, making it look like the horses had done it. When the outlaws returned, he didn’t want them to know their hideout had been discovered. He led the two horses through the break in the fence and went back and brushed away his own tracks. A good tracker wouldn’t be fooled, but he was hoping none of the rustlers would be suspicious enough to give the matter much scrutiny. Moreover, he knew it would probably rain at least once, maybe more, before the outlaws returned, and would wipe away all tracks.
And s
o, riding one horse and leading the other two, he headed back through the pass.
Jim Marcellin was trying hard to stay angry with his mother. She had a frustrating way of making him feel
he was being unreasonable even when he was sure he was in the right. Hank had awakened him that afternoon when it was discovered Catherine and Reef were gone. On questioning, Felipe had disclosed that Catherine had left in the buggy during Shorty’s burial, and that Reef had left alone some time later, apparently following Catherine. Dolores, ever true to her mistress, had refused to say anything.
By the time the discovery was made, Marcellin knew it was too late to go after the pair; they would have already arrived at the Double
T headquarters. He was sure Emil Tannatt would not harm Catherine, and he was equally sure Catherine would see to it that no harm came to Reef. The only thing to do was to wait. Any other action could ignite the powder keg.
But now
that the two strays had returned to the Circle M, Marcellin was trying to feel in control of something for the first time that day and it wasn’t working.
“I believe I
’m old enough,” asserted Catherine, “to come and go as I please without asking permission of my son.”
“You don
’t have to ask permission to come and go, Mother, but surely you knew it wasn’t a good idea to go to the Double T.”
“I merely went to visit a friend; there can
’t be anything wrong in that.”
“
Then why did you sneak off?”
“Do you ask my permission to visit friends? Am I a prisoner here on this ranch? Am I so old now that I
’m not competent to make my own decisions? The next thing I know, you’ll be putting a chain on my door and locking me in.”
“Now
, Mother, I don’t think I treat you that badly.”
“Have you ever
heard me complain?”
“No,” he replied, “but . . .
”
Catherine interrupted,
“I’m not unhappy with our life here, Jim; are you?”
“
Of course not, Mother, that’s not the . . .”
She interrupted again, “It
’s alright, Jim; you’re still weak from your wounds. You’re tired and in a bad humor. I can understand that. Your father used to get that way too. I just learned to ignore it and when he felt better things would be fine again.”
M
arcellin hesitated, knowing he had utterly lost control of the conversation and did not know how to regain it. Taking advantage of his hesitation, Catherine ended the discussion. “I’m tired too dear; it’s been a long day. I’m going to bed now, and I suggest you do the same. Good night.” She kissed him on the forehead and turned toward the hallway to her bedroom.
As she walked away she added, “Oh, by the way
; Martha Tannatt’s coming over next week. We’re going to do some quilting. She’s a dear. Did you know she was born and raised just 30 miles from where I grew up?”
Sheriff Alvah
Beeman had had a busy day and had stopped at the Red Stallion for a drink. Afterwards he was planning to go to his office and do some paperwork before going home for the night.
“See you tomorrow
,” he said to Charley Lovell. Charley nodded, and Beeman pushed through the bat winged doors into the warm night air. As he left the saloon he was hailed by a man on horseback who apparently had just ridden into town.
Beeman recognized him as Seth Blake, the foreman of the Double T.
Seth reined in, stepped down from the saddle and began using his hat to beat the dust off of his shirt and pants. “Don’t seem like it’d be too much to ask for it to rain once in a while around here. Knock some of this dust down.”
“Yeah,” said the sheriff, “
and the streets here in town turn into bogs. You can’t win either way.”
“Rather ride thr
ough it than eat it.”
“You got a point there.”
“Mr. Tannatt sent me in, Sheriff, wanted me to give you a message.”
Beeman looked at him expectantly.
“He says he’ll listen to what Marcellin has to say tomorrow, but he makes no other promises. He wants you to be there, and anyone who was involved in the fight or witnessed it. He’ll be there with Sid Wilkins.”
“That
’s fair,” said Beeman, “if he means it. I don’t want any tricks.”
“Emil
’s a hard man but he’s true to his word, Sheriff, you know that.”
Beeman nodded. “All right, I
’ll arrange it.”
“When and where?” asked Seth.
“Nine o’clock in the morning, Sunset Ridge.”
“I
’ll tell him Sheriff; I reckon he’ll be there.”
“I
’ll ride out to Marcellin’s tonight,” said Beeman. Then he added, “Let me buy you a beer. It’ll wash down some of that dust.”
The two men stepped into the Red Stallion and up to the bar. They ordered beers, and whe
n they came, Seth drank deeply, put his mug down and breathed out a satisfied sigh.
Beeman smiled
. “Get rid of the dust in your throat?”
“Turned it to mud.
Like I said, mud’s better.”
Beeman
’s expression turned serious. “What do you think about this whole mess, Seth?”
“I think there
’s trouble brewing, Alvah, unless a miracle happens.”
“Of course there
’s trouble brewing, a blind man could see that, but what’s your position in it all?”
“I don
’t have a position. I just ride for the brand.”
Seth was obviously being evasive
, but Beeman did not intend to be put off so easily. “We both know you have a stronger position than just a hired hand, especially now that Al’s dead.”
Seth
’s whole body tightened, his displeasure making a furrow down the center of his brow. “What does Al’s death have to do with me?” he demanded.
Beeman
’s reply was hard and direct. “Why, you know good and well what it has to do with you.”
Seth
’s face flushed and he set the beer down hard on the bar. He started to turn away, but Beeman laid a hand on his shoulder. “Now, don’t go getting hot on me, Seth, I’m trying to avoid a range war here and I don’t have time to play cat and mouse with you, just because you’re shy about what’s between you and Louise.”
A deeper anger settled on Seth
’s face. He glared at Beeman for a moment, and then his eyes softened and the tightness around his mouth relaxed. Picking up the beer mug, he drained it and stared for a moment at his reflection in the mirror behind the bar. Turning back to face Beeman he said, “So you know about me and Louise?”
“The whole valley does, Seth. Did you two really think you could hide it?
The thing I don’t understand is why you are ashamed of it. Louise is a fine girl.”
Seth smiled
. “She is Alvah; I’ve never known a finer one, and,” he added sharply, “virtuous too, I want you to know that.” He spoke the words in the manner of a man who is prepared to defend the honor of his love.
Beeman s
aid, “Never doubted it, Seth. ‘Nother beer?”
Seth nodded.
Beeman waved a finger at Charlie, who gave a slight nod.
“It ain
’t been easy working for the Tannatt’s,” said Seth. “Emil’s hard, but he’s fair. But Al, that was another matter. He was mean—just plain bad to the core. His pa never could see it, or he never could admit it. A1 was mad when Emil made me foreman instead of him. Hated me for it. I think he hated his pa too.”
“I think he hated everyone,” said Beeman
. “He was full of hate.”
“He caused his folks a lot of grief,” murmured Seth.
“I know it,” agreed Beeman. “No one’s going to miss him for long. Emil’s going to need you now more than ever. I’d say that puts you in a pretty good position.”
“That
’s the problem, Alvah. I wish Emil had another son, not like Al, but somebody he could leave the ranch to.”
“A son-in-law is almost as good as a son.”
“But I don’t want that. All I wanted was to marry Louise, work hard, save some money and start a spread of my own. It wouldn’t have to be a big one like the Double T; it just had to be mine; something I built from the bottom. I love Louise, I love her for herself and I don’t want anybody to ever think I married her so I could get her father’s ranch.”
Beeman smiled, suddenly feeling fatherly toward this young man. “The thing you need to do, first off Seth, is to stop feel
ing guilty about being glad Al’s dead. The second is to stop worrying about what people will think and ask Emil Tannatt for his daughter’s hand. Then, if you want to save money and start your own spread I don’t see how anybody can stop you.” He glanced at Seth, checking his reaction. He was pushing the young man hard and he knew it.
He
continued, “Emil’s not as young as you are, but he’s not ninety either. It’s going to be a lot of years before he’s ready to trade his saddle for a rockin’ chair. If I were you I’d quit worrying so much and start planning a wedding.”
Seth stared at Beeman incredulously.
“I can’t do that to those people. To tell them about me and Louise; why it might be more than they could take right now.”
Beeman laughed out loud and
Seth colored.
“How old are you
, Seth?”
“Twenty four.”
“In about fifteen more years you’re going to realize something.”
“What
’s that?”
“That when people get to be forty years old they don
’t suddenly turn deaf, blind, and stupid. I doubt there’s anything you could tell the Tannatt’s that they haven’t already figured out. Why do you think Emil made you his foreman instead of Al, and kept you around when Al hated you so much? My guess is he and Martha know exactly how you and Louise feel about each other and they figure you’re a good catch for her. But if you don’t make your move pretty quick, they may start having second thoughts.”
Seth
’s face assumed an expression that combined perplexity and misery. The effect was comical, and the sheriff chuckled inwardly but kept a straight face. In time, Seth too would be able to laugh about this. Right now he didn’t need to feel ridiculed.
B
eeman said, “Love is a fine thing, Seth; it kind of glows inside you and you can feel it in there. But it can be seen on the outside too and the hotter you feel it on the inside the brighter it shows up to people around you.”
Seth was no l
onger interested in his beer, and Beeman suggested they step over to his office. It was a nice night. Beeman thought he would sit out on the porch with Mary for a while before going to bed, then he remembered he had to ride to the Circle M.
Inside the office he spoke again, “We got a little sidetracked there, but I still need to talk to you about something. What have you heard about the fight at the Circle M?” He mo
tioned Seth to have a seat and settled his own heavy frame on the edge of the desk. Seth replied, “Sid says they rode in peaceable, just wanting to talk, and Marcellin and old Shorty opened up on ‘em.”
“What do you think happened?” asked Beeman.
“I know what happened and Sid’s a liar. I don’t think Al Tannatt ever did anything peaceable in his life. Al was hunting trouble and he took advantage of the fact that the boys were steamed over Alex and Joe being lynched.”
“Do you think you could convince Emil of that?”
“I don’t know, maybe.”
“Would you try?
”
“I guess,” said Seth somberly.
He laughed as something struck him funny. “Anything else you think I should talk to Emil about tonight? Maybe get him to give up swearin’ or contribute to the widows and orphans fund?”
Beeman chuckled and shook his head. “I know, Seth, you
’re riding out of here with a bigger load than you brought in.”
Seth shrugged his shoulders
. “I’ll do what I can.”
After Seth rode out, Beeman sat fo
r a while, debating in his mind whether or not to advise Bob Webb of the meeting in the morning at Sunset Ridge. He worried that Webb’s presence may only serve to aggravate the delicacy of the situation. After all, Webb was the one who had killed Al Tannatt. In the end he concluded that in order to avert disaster, everything needed to be brought out into the open and dealt with, including who killed Al and why. So, before making his final rounds he gave his deputy, Orville Babcock, instructions to go out to Jeff’s place and inform him of the meeting and if possible get him to promise to be there. Then he completed his rounds and went home.
While Mary was preparing food and coffee for him to take with him on the trail, Beeman saddled his horse. Returning to the office, he met Babcock who had just come back from Jeff
’s place.
“Webb
’s not out there,” said Babcock. “I rode over to the sawmill. Jake is still there, doing book-work; he said Webb asked for the day off.”