Slaughter's way (10 page)

A bellow of agreement rose from the others, as ugly as the sound of a lynch mob after blood.

In the bed wagon, Burt Alvord decided the time had come for him to make a silent but hurried departure. He figured a stampede of the Long Rail's herd ought to wind up any ideas the trail crew might have of raiding his boss's home in the night.

Just as Alvord started to move back, he heard Chisum's voice ring out over the babble. Silence fell, and Alvord crept nearer to the front of the wagon to make sure he heard what the Cattle King had to say.

"Now hold it, boys, hold it right there!" Chisiun yelled, preventing the men dashing oflE in a body to collect tiieir night horses. "Ain't no sense in us all going off half-cocked. And I sm*ely don't want any of you boys getting hurt. Why, a man couldn't ask for a better crew at his back."

The men halted and looked at their boss. All waited to hear what he said and felt satisfaction in being employed by a man who cared for their welfare.

"We could ride over there right now—" a man began, eager to show his mllingness to avenge his boss.

''And the night herd on the petaUad hear us coming miles off and head for the house to warn the others." Chisum interrupted. "Which same they'd be fighting on ground they know better'n we do."

His words brought silence and a damping down of any desire the men might have at charging off into the darkness. Dnmk they most certainly were, but they were not entirely fools. Nor did they suffer any illusions about the fighting skill of those salty hands who rode for the J.S. While they might wiUingly have struck at a sleeping, unprepared ranch, not one of Chisum's "warriors" fancied tangling witii a forewarned and alert bunch of Slaughter's men on ground the J.S. crew knew well.

"What you reckon we ought to do, Unde John?* asked one of the men.

"We could forget it. Maybe nobody'll hear about how he put it over on the Long Rail t\\dce."

If Chisum had suggested forgetting the issue before the drinking, the men most likely would have agreed. They were not cowhands with a loyalty to their brand to keep them going, but paid bullies. Yet the drinks and

Chisum's eflForts at amusing and entertaining them had raised a false loyalty in their hearts. All of the men could imagine the laughter and derision which would greet Long Rail when word of Slaughter s actions went the rounds. Normally this would not have worried the "warriors," but under the influence of Chisum's charm and whisky, they decided, as he hoped they would, that they must make a play which would regain their spread's lost reputation.

"Helll" bellowed one of the men. "They done it on us twice. And they cut stock out of oiu: herd."

That the stock did not belong to Long Rail was con-veniendy forgotten in the feeling of outrage all experienced when thinking of the cutting of the herd.

"And they gunned down Big Tag and Tarbuck,*' another of the crew pointed out, just in case anybody had forgotten the full scope of Slaughter's iniquities.

"They sure made Long Rail look bad," Chisirai agreed, "but I reckon I know a way to fix their wagon, but good."

"How'd we do it?"

"Our herd's good and tired after today. They won't need much holding down tomorrow either, seeing how they're on good grazing and have water handy. If we leave four of the boys to hold them, the rest of us can move across to J.S. and pay Slaughter a caU. Him and his crew'll be busy working their herd and won't know we're on hand until it's too late. Then we'll see who has the last laugh."

"There's a valley we could follow. Uncle John," the scout remarked. "It winds some, but comes out near-on overlooking their herd. Happen we move along the bottom, they won't see us coming."

'"Buenor Chisum grinned. "This time it'll be Slaughter who's under our guns. And we'll have twenty rifles lined on him. Cookie, go pour out another roimd for the boys/'

"What time do we ride, boss?" asked the scout.

"At dawn. But I want you to get a couple of hours start on us, just to make stire everything comes off aU right"

Alvord decided he had heard enough and prepared to move off. Just as he started to rise, his right foot went under the bed and struck something which rolled gently at his touch. Wriggling around, he reached under the bed—despite his general meanness Chisum liked to sleep oonifortably even when on the trail—and drew out the thing he kicked. For a moment he thought of retiun-ing the tubular object and then getting away from the trail camp. A memory crept through his head, recalling something his boss had said as they'd ridden back to Blantyre after the first meeting with Chisum. One way or another, Alvord thought, Tobi Slaughter might like to lay his hands on the thing me young scout now held.

It had been Alvord's intention to stir up and spook the Long Rail herd into a stampede that would take Chisum and his crew's minds off bothering the J.S. However, those leg-weary cattle would take some stirring, they were not going to be easy to scatter without using methods which woxild show straight off that a human agency had been at work. Charging down on the herd with a roaring Colt was out. Chisum could figure who stampeded his herd and would be looking for war.

Nope, any way a man looked at it, the best thing Alvord could do was head back to the ranch and warn the boss of the forthcoming raid. If Texas John could not figure out the best way to handle the matter, Alvord did not know his boss.

Silently Alvord slipped to the rear of the wagon and climbed out, carrying hiis trophy with him. None of the drinking, laughing party around the fire were in any shape to hear a lesser sound than a charging herd of buffalo, and Alvord traveled a whole lot quieter than that.

Just as Alvord's feet touched the ground, he heard men approaching. Instantly he froze, his right arm held the trophy, but the left turned palm out and lifted the near-side Colt. While he did not wish to announce his presence by shooting, Alvord had no intention of being captured by Chisimi's crew.

"Reckon theyTl feel the same way in the morning, boss?" asked the voice of Chisum's segundo.

"We'll keep 'em steamed up late tonight. Comes 74

morning, they'll have bad enough heads to be mean enough for any devilment/' Chisum answered. *1 tell you, Base, I aim to fix Slaughter. No man makes a fool of me twice and Hves."

Fortunately for Chismn, though not for various people around Lincoln County, New Mexico, who were to die in the range war Chisum's activities helped to stir up in later years, the Cattle King and his segundo did not reach the bed wagon. One of the drinMng "warriors'* yelled out a request for Chisum to tell them the story of ole Frank and the preacher. Turning, Chisum returned to the fire and started the hiunorous, if unprintable story.

Holstering his Colt, Alvord slipped away, fading silently oflF into the night and heading for his waiting horse. The Appaloosa had not moved far and Alvord unfastened the bedroll from his saddle, wrapped the trophy inside it and strapped it back in place on the can-tie. He adjusted the saddle and bridle, then removed the hobbles. Swinging afork the Appaloosa's back, Alvord headed it in a straight line for the Slaughter ranch house.

It said much for Alvord's skill as a rider, and the superb breeding and stamina of the Appaloosa, that at around two in the morning he saw the J.S. house and heard the blue-tick's ringing, warning bay. Five minutes later he was gasping the news of what he had heard at Chisum's camp to his half-naked, grim-eyed boss.

"Go into the sitting room, Burt," Bess Slaughter ordered. "I'll fix you a drink. Boy, you look plumb tuckered out."

The soimd of Alvord's arrival had disturbed the ranch crew and brought Washita Trace and Tex Burton from the bimkhouse to investigate. Tucking their shirts into their pants, the two men ran toward the house, wondering why their boss carried Burt Alvord's bedroll inside witih him.

"Now you stay there, boy," Bess ordered, lighting a lamp and looking at Alvord, who had flopped into a chair but made a move to get up as his boss entered the room. "And you leave him be until he's taken

something to drink, John Slaughter. Whatever brought him back isn't so all-fired important that it can't wait until he draws breath."

As usual in matters of that nature, Bess was given her way. While Slaughter might be boss of the ranch, inside the house was his wife's range and she ruled it with an iron hand.

After drinking a glass of milk, Alvord told of what he had seen and heard at the Long Rail camp. Trace and Burton stood in the background, listening to Burt Alvord speak more than he usually gave out in a full month of talking. They both looked at their boss as the scout's words came to an end.

"Twenty guns, John," Trace said quietly. ''Even counting Coonskin we can't put out more than fifteen. We'll need the rest on the herd. Could use more men wiih the herd, happen the shooting gets started close in, or we'll have both danged bunches mixing even if they don't break and run."

"Unless we hit them out there far enough so the shooting won't be heard," Biu-ton put in.

"I don't want it to come to shooting, if we can avoid it,'' Slaughter answered. "We can't lay for them from ambush and any other way we're hkely to lose some of the boys."

"We'd all take our chance."

"I know it. Wash. Only oiu* boys are cowhands, not trained guntoters like the Chisum crew."

"Do you think Chisum is serious, John?" Bess asked.

"He sure is, honey."

TBut why? You stopped his man injuring Lige Baxter in town, and you only took back what belongs to you.'^

"That's all I did, honey. Only Chisum's got a name for being a hard man to cross. His power depends on folks being scared of him. Happen he backs water and lets me run two blazers on him, he's sure going to find other folks hard to convince he's so tough in future. Nope, he has to make a grandstand play, show folks that it doesn't pay to buck the Cattle King."

Which same was the longest speech Bess could re-76

member her husband making for many a year. Fact being, she could never remember hearing him say so much at one go in all the years they had been together.

''What'll we do, John?" Burton asked.

"Boss," Alvord put in, pointing to his bedroll which lay on the table at die side of the room. '1 brought us a lil' something back from out of Chisum's wagon, from under his bed comes to that. Figured it might make a right smart doohickey for trading should Chisum come."

Opening the bedroll. Slaughter looked down at the thing it contained. Biut had called it right, the thing might easily change Chisum's mind when he saw it.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Ttere^d Better Not Be Anotlier Time

At the head of twenty of his gun-hung "warriors,** John Chisum rode down into the bottom of the valley which led to the J.S. home range.

While it could not be claimed that Chisum was in any way an honest man, or said that he ever did a good thing in his life with the intention of helping anybody other than himself, there was no denying that few men of his day and age had a shrewder knowledge of human nature and how to turn it to his advantage.

He kept his men up late, drinking and building their hatred for Slaughter and the J.S. crew. When they crawled into their blankets in the small hours of the morning, the men had a bellyful of hate for J.S. and clear forgot that they had only a few short hours to sleep. The cook was met with curses and snarls when he roused the crew at dawn, and a sullen, morose bunch gathered at the fire.

Given the choice of herding cattle for ten hours or making a raid on the J.S. and being allowed to rest for the remainder of the day, they chose the latter without a second thought. Most of them still had hazy recollections of the hate Chisum had stirred up against Slaughter the previous night and perversely blamed the boss of the J.S. for their hangovers.

So they headed for the jewelry chest, a box fastened to the outside of the wagon and used for storing hobbles, extra boxes of cartridges and other items which might be needed in an emergency. Each man helped himself to a free supply of ammunition, collected their horses and headed out after their boss. In his eagerness to take revenge on Slaughter, Chisum omitted to perform

an action that had become part of his life when on the trail. He was to remember and curse the omission later that day.

Chisum had made another mistake, although he did not know it. While it had been a wise precaution to send out his scout before daylight to reconnoiter, he had allowed the man to join in the general drinking and festivities the previous night. So, although the scout could find his way across the range with fair accuracy, he was in no shape to spot the tracks left by Alvord's fast-running Appaloosa.

Nor were Chisum and his "warriors" any more quick-sighted. None of them thought of looldng for tracks, and indeed would have found diflBculty in seeing those left by the Appaloosa, for the Long Rail scout followed almost along their line. If Chisum had seen the tracks, he might have guessed that somebody from J.S. had followed them and maybe overheard more than he should have. But nobody saw the tracks and Chisum rode at the head of his "warriors," leading them down into the bottom of the valley which would keep them hidden from Slaughter and his crew's sight until it was too late for them to do anything about the visit.

The scout returned, bringing word that the J.S. crew was working on their work and did not appear to have any idea of their danger.

Everything seemed to be going just as Chisum planned it. The noise of the men worldng the J.S. pe-talta would drown out any chance of them hearing the approach of the visiting party. Soon Chisum would have Slaughter and his crew under the Long Rail guns, and the boot was going to be on the other foot. They aimed to show folks that nobody, not even the great Texas John Slaughter, got away with running a blazer on John Chisum's Long Rail spread. Not only did Chisum intend to recover his cattle—^he actually believed he had legal claim on the hundred head—^but he also aimed to make sure that Slaughter would be in no condition to follow him in search of revenge.

"Just wait until I see Slaughter's face," Chisum thou^t as he rode around a sharp corner in the valley^—

And found he had been granted his deske.

A startled curse left Chisum's lips as he reined in his horse. Sitting not thirty yards ahead, his big black stallion sideways-on smack in the center of the valley bottom; a thin, crooked black cigar hanging unlit between his lips, was the man Chisum wanted to see.

Behind Chisum, the gunmen brought their horses to a halt, bunching in on each other as those in front drew rein and the men behind rode in among them. Before they could come to any kind of order, the "warriors'' were in a tangle and not in any shape to think of defending themselves. Every eye went to the top of the valley, and every belly suddenly turned cold. If Slaughter s men made their appearance on the rims of the valley, Long Rail would be whipsawed again and most hkely go home licking its woimds.

Of all the raiding party, Chisum recovered first. Slowly, making sure his hands stayed in plain sight and palm out, he shoved back his hat. Then he nodded a greeting to the grim-faced shape before him.

"Howdy, Texas John," he said, sounding mildly innocent and like a good borrowing neighbor dropping in on friends, "Fine day."

"I caught up with the Taggerts,'' Slaughter replied. "Got your three hundred dollars here in my pocket."

"I bought that hundred head in good faith, John. Sort of an investment to show me a mite of profit up to Dodge City. So you can keep the money and Til take me the hundred head."

At that time a steer was bringing in between thirty and forty dollars a head at the shipping pens; so Chisum looked to be claiming himself a better than fair profit on the deal.

"Nope," Slaughter replied.

"Got twenty good men here," Chisum pointed out "And I don't figure you've had time to gather your boys from the herd since my scout left. Anyways, happen shooting starts, you'll be like I was yesterday. Your herd'U've gone, John, and I don't reckon you'll get that Army contract filled in time if that happens. So I reckon

youll show good sense and let me take my hundred head."

Behind Chisum the twenty "warriors'* tensed. They knew of Slaughter s way when dealing with folks who tried to push him around; and they had seen his speed with a gun. In a few short minutes there would be shooting unless, which was as likely as a snowball keeping its shape on a red-hot stovetop, Slaughter backed down and handed over the cattle. Or unless his men came into sight on the valley top and brought the weight of their rifles to bear.

Yet the hard-cases felt puzzled. In the silence which followed Chisum's words, all heard the sounds of men working cattle. It did not seem likely that Slaughter had suflBcient men to work his petalta and bring along so many that they could handle the full strength of the Long Rail.

**Afore you go and do anything hotheaded, Mr. Chisum/' Slaughter said quietly, "I'd say you'd best look up there to the right."

Every eye turned in the direction Slaughter suggested. The "warriors" expected to find themselves covered by a hne of rifles. iSistead they saw nothing more dangerous than a couple of men standing on the Up of the slope, neither of them holding a gim. Not one of the hard-cases could think what Slaughter reckoned to be so dangerous about the two men. Nor could they imagine the Cattle King being swayed from his purpose by so small a threat.

In this the "warriors" were about as wrong as men could be. Chisum's eyes bulged out as he stared at the thing the dark, burly yoimgster held. Here stood a menace more terrifying to Chisimi's eyes than the threat of armed men.

"Wh—where did you get th—that?" Chisum croaked in a strangled voice, staring at the length of zinc stove pipe in Burt Alvord's hands.

"Do we take 'em, boss?" asked his segundo, sotto voce and gripping his rifle.

Standing at Alvord's side, Washita Trace rasped a 81

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match on his pants' seat and applied its flame to the end of the length of brush in his other hand. From the way the brush took fire, it had been soaked in kerosene, for the flames licked up around it. Once the torch was blazing well. Trace brought its lit end toward the open mouth of the pipe.

^'B—^boot your rifles, boys!" Chisum yelped. 'T)o it, damn you to hell, do it right now!"

Something in the lurgent manner used by Chisum caused his men to obey him instantly. None knew for sure what those two hombres on the rim held, but whatever it was, it sure set their boss back on his heels. So every one of the "warriors" thrust his rifle into the saddle boot and sat back as if trying to dissociate himself from the whole aflFair.

"Where did you get it, Texas John?" Chisum asked, never taking his eyes from the length of stove pipe and the torch which hovered by its open mouth.

"Picked it up from under that fancy bed you use, in your bed wagon last night while you was liquoring yoxu- hands."

For a wild moment Chisum had thought, hoped even, that Slaughter might be trying to run a bluff. After all, one length of stove pipe looked pretty much like another. But Chisum remembered that Slaughter had not seen his hiding place, nor could have guessed where he carried his precious container. There was no bluff in Slaughter's actions. Alvord held Chisum's property in his hands.

"What's the game?" asked Chisum, his stomach seeming to turn a double somersault as the blazing torch dipped slightly closer toward the mouth of the pipe.

"Tell that whiskery jasper to move his hand from his gun, Chisum!" Trace called, having caught a suspicious movement.

Twisting in his saddle, Chisum cut loose with a burst of profanity at the men, warning them not to touch weapons.

"They'll be good," he promised, turning a scared face to Slaughter. "Don't let him shove that torch inside."

All too well Chisum knew what would happen 82

should the flames of the torch get in among his power-of-attomey notes and destroy them. His herd had a good proportion of stock which did not belong to his Long Rail brand, but was legally—or as near legally as mattered—covered by the notes. Without the slips of paper authorizing him to gather and drive cattle from those brands to market, he would be in difficulties at the shipping pens. The fast growing Cattleman's Association had long been aware of his games, even though they could not stop them. If he arrived at Dodge with a good third of his herd wearing other ranchers' brands, and could not produce evidence of his right to do so, the association would move in, take possession of the non-Long Rail stock, sell it and return the sale money to its lawful owners. Chisum knew that even his * warriors'' would object to fighting the powerful association and the law.

So Chisum shuddered at the thought of seeing his precious notes go up in flames. They were his legal right to rob and cheat. If he lost them his revenue would be at least halved.

*lt's a poor state of affairs if a feller can t come a-visiting without all this unpleasantness, Texas John," Chisum said in his most winning manner after the torch moved a few inches away from the pipe's mouth.

He saw a chance, a slim, but possible chance, of breaking the deadlock and regaining control of the situation. The torch Washita Trace held burned smaller all the time. Soon the man would be unable to hold it Before he could pick up and light a fresh torch something might be done.

Chisum thought of the possibility—and so had John Slaughter.

Tm counting to five, Mr. Chisum, and your men had best be turning to ride before I reach the fifth, or that torch goes in."

Chisum lost his fresh-gathered joviality and seemed to be swallowing something which blocked his throat Never before had any man even beaten him down once. Yet Slaughter had done so three times. For beaten Chisum now was, just as surely as if the Texas rancher held a cocked gun to the Cattle Kong's head.

Even a sudden grabbing for guns and shooting down Trace and Alvord would solve nothing. On the first move made, either the torch would be dirust into his power-of-attomey notes, or Alvord would up-end the pipe and spill them out. The wind had enough power up tfiere to scatter his papers to hell and gone and they would not be easily regathered.

There was one other sobering thought for Chisum. If shooting started, the first man to go was likely to be Chisum himself. He did not doubt that Slaughter planned to make him the first victim, and none of the Long Rail hands could draw a gun fast enough to save him.

^'All right, boys,'* he said, tasting the bitter ashes of defeat, "go back to the herd."

"TeU them to head it up and keep it moving,*' Slaughter ordered. "Then you can come down to tihe house for a meal. When Tm siu*e your herd's on its way, and your men not hkely to be coming back, 111 return that pipe to you.''

"Basel" Chisum snapped, turning in his saddle; and his segundo rode back. "You heard what Texas John said. Do it. Get the herd moving and don't come back. I mean that, too."

"If you say so, boss.**

"I say so."

''Hombrer Slaughter barked before the segundo could turn away.

]Teah?"

"You and your boys came off easy this time. Mind my words. Next time you set foot on my range, I'll start shooting."

Chisum's segundo reckoned to be a tough man in his own right, but there was something in Slaughter's eyes and manner that warned him not to chance his luck. Swinging his horse, the man rode after the departing "warriors." On catching up with the others, he delivered Chisum's orders and Slaughter's warning. By that time the whisky-developed hatred of Slaughter had died down, and their drunken loyalty to Long Rail made a change. Not one of the crew raised any objection to

their boss's orders. In fact, most of them had seen all they wanted of Texas John Slaughter s land and more than they wanted of Slaughter s way.

After the Long Rail hands departed, Burt Alvord set down the stove pipe and drifted off out of sight. He had orders to see tie "warriors'* off the J.S. range and make sure they did not return. However, his disappearance did not ease Chisum's position any, for Washita Trace stood with the burning stub of torch hovering at the mouth of the pipe.

At last, with Chisum sweating out every minute, Slaughter made a sign and Trace stubbed out his torch, then put the cover on the pipe. Chisum wiped sweat from his brow and turned a grudgingly admiring face to Slaughter.

"I should never have let you see that stove pipe, Texas John, only I wanted to prove I had the right to butcher that Box O steer. And I usually check on it every morning as soon as I get out of bed, but I was so busy thinking about—^well, I didn't look this morning."

^'Here's the three himdred dollars," Slaughter replied. "You can sign a receipt down at the house."

"Sure, John. You know something, nobody ever bettered me once afore, and you done it three times."

"There'd better not be another time," Slaughter warned.