the Rider Of Ruby Hills (1986) (11 page)

Regardless of their sympathies, there were good cattlemen on both sides. The riders got the cattle out of the brakes and started them down valley to the accompaniment of many yells, much shouting back and forth, and the usual good-natured persiflage and joking that is part of any roundup crew. As far as his glass was able to see, the same thing was happening.

There would be several thousand head of stock to work in this roundup, and it would move on down the range for many miles before completed.

Mabry slid up alongside of him at noon on the second day. "You want me to rep for you, or will you tackle it your own self?"

Haney thought a minute. "We'll both go down, but we'll go loaded for bear. I think hell is going to break loose down there before many days."

"If they start to fight, what do we do?" Mabry asked keenly.

"Pull out. We don't have a battle with any of them. Not yet, we don't, but almost any of them might take a shot at us. When they see what's happened, that I've got cattle on this range, they aren't going to be too happy about it."

"Have you seen Scott?"

"Only for a minute or two. He's advisin' me to get more hands, but I don't want anybody killed, neither of you nor myself, either. If there's only three of us we'll play our cards the way we should, close to our belt. If there were more we might take chances and get somebody killed. If they start a battle, pull out."

"Don't you rate that Levitt too low, Haney." Mabry shook his head seriously. "He's coldblooded, and he'll do whatever he's a mind to, to get his way on this range. He hasn't any use for either Pogue or Reynolds, but he's a sight worse than either of them."

It was good advice, and the following day when the two drifted down off the mesa toward the roundup, Ross Haney was thinking about it.

"Remember one thing," he advised Mabry. "We may not be together all the time. Don't let yourself get sucked in. Hold to the outer edge all the time, and keep an eye on the hands we've talked about whom we believe to be tied in with Levitt. I wouldn't be surprised at anything. If they start scattering out and seem to be taking up any definite positions, ease out of there quick!"

Walt Pogue looked unhappy when he saw the two riding up. Then he brightened noticeably. "You two hunting work? I need some men."

"No," Haney noted that Chalk Reynolds was riding over. "I've come to rep for my brand."

Pogue's head came down and his eyes squinted. He leaned toward them, and his somewhat thick lips parted. "Did you say-your brand?"

"That's right-the Gallows Frame."

The big rancher's face went white and then darkened with a surge of blood. He reined his horse around violently. "Who said you could run cattle on this range?"

Ross Haney shrugged. Chalk Reynolds looked as astonished and angry as Pogue. "Does anybody have to say so? Strikes me this here is government land, and my stock has as much right to run on it as yours, an' maybe more right."

"You'll find there's a difference of opinion on that!" Chalk Reynolds put in violently. "This range is overcrowded now."

"Tell that to Star Levitt. He's on it, with two brands."

This was obviously no news to either of them, but neither had anything to say for a minute, and then Reynolds said coldly, "Well, he'll be told! From what I hear somebody's doin' some mightly smooth work with a cinch ring!"

Ross hooked his leg around the saddle horn and began to dig for the makings. "Reynolds, if you an' Pogue will take a look at those altered brands, you'll see that whoever altered them doesn't give a hoot whether you know it or not. He's throwin' it right in your face an' askin' what you intend to do!"

"I'll do plenty!" Chalk bellowed. "There's goin' to be a new setup on this range after this roundup is over!"

"You throwin' that at me?" Pogue demanded. Fury was building in the man, and he was staring at Reynolds with an ugly light in his eye.

"Why don't you two either go to it or cut it out?" Haney drawled. "Or are you both afraid of Levitt? He's the hombre who's cuttin' in on you. He doesn't even bother to bring his own cows, he brands yours!"

Ross chuckled, and Reynolds's face went white. He turned and spoke flatly, the rage trembling behind his even tones. "We might get together, Walt an' I, long enough to get shut of you!"

"Take first things first," Ross said. "An'* you'd better learn this right now, Chalk. An' you, too, Pogue. I came here to stay. If you fellows stay here, it will be with me alongside of you. If you go, I'll still be here. I didn't come to this valley by chance. I came here on purpose and with a definite idea in mind. Any bet you make, I'll double and raise. So anytime you want to get into the game with me, just start the ball rolling, anyway you like!"

He struck a match and lighted his smoke, then dropped his leg back and kicked his foot into the stirrup. Coolly and without a backward glance, he rode away.

Bill Mabry sat quietly for a minute or two, watching him ride.

Pogue glared at him. "What's in this, Bill? You've always been a good man."

"You listen to him," Mabry advised dryly. "He's mucho malo hombre, if you get what I mean. But only when he's crossed. He's got no reason to like either of you, but he's got other things on his mind now. But in case either of you wonder where I stand. Me an' my six-gun, we stand right alongside of Ross Haney. And that's were you'll find Roily Burt, too!"

"Burt?" Pogue's face flamed. "Where is that murderin' son?"

Bill Mabry turned, his hand on the cantle of the saddle: "Listen, why don't you find out why two of your men were gunning for him, Pogue? I'll bet a paint pony you don't know! An' why don't you, Chalk Reynolds, find out why none of your boys were in town that night to side Burt? Why did your nephew send him into town with a message?"

Mabry turned and cantered his horse over to Ross. "I gave 'em some more," he said briefly, and explained.

Haney chuckled. "Their ears will be buzzing for a week if they live that long. Some nice stock here, Bill, at that."

"How many head have you got out here?"

"Not many. Couple of dozen head is all. Just something to make them unhappy."

"Suppose they start to get sore? Reynolds an' Pogue both can be mighty mean."

"We'll get meaner. I've got them cold- decked, Bill. Some day I'll tell you about it. I've got them all cold-decked. The only way they can beat me in the long run is with hot lead."

"Maybe. But that Star Levitt is poison."

"You think Pogue and Reynolds will get through the roundup without a fight?"

"No. There's too much hard feelin' amongst the boys. Somebody will blow his top, and then the whole thing will bust up in a shootin' match."

Ross Haney looked across the valley, watching the familiar scene with a little of the old lift within him. This was the roundup, the hardest work in a cowhand's life, and in many ways, the highest point. They cussed the roundup and loved it. It was hot, dusty, full of danger from kicking hoofs and menacing horns, but filled with good fellowship and comradely fun.

The waving sea of horns tossed and rolled and fell as the cattle milled, or the herd, starting to line out for somewhere, anywhere, was turned back on itself by some cowhand quick to stop the movement. At such times the horns would send a long ripple of movement across the herd.

Wild-eyed steers lunged for a getaway, but were quickly harried back into the herd. At the branding pens men were gathered, the sharp line of demarcation between the RR and Box N a little broken here by the business of the day. Elsewhere, the men from the two big outfits drew off to themselves, worked together, and avoided contact with the rival ranch hands.

Star Levitt, astride a magnificent white horse, was everywhere to be seen. For a time he was at the branding pens, and then he was circling the herd. Finally, sighting Ross Haney and Mabry, he walked his horse toward them. Ross saw Mabry stiffen, and saw the cowhand's face tighten and grow cold. Certainly, there was no love lost here.

"How are you, Haney?" Levitt was easy, casual. He seemed to have forgotten completely the events of the day in the Bit and Bridle. He was clean shaven as always, and as always he was immaculate. The dust of the roundup seemed scarcely to have touched him.

Mabry, glancing at the two, was struck for the first time at something strikingly similar in the two men; only there was a subtle difference that drew the cowhand inexorably to Ross Haney.

Both were big men, Levitt the taller and heavier and probably somewhat softer. Ross was lean and hard, his rugged build seeming so lean as to belie his actual weight, which was some two hundred pounds. Yet in the faces of both men there was strength, and in the faces of both men there was the look of command. Haney's manner was easy and careless, yet there was something solid about him, something rocklike that was lacking in the brittle sharpness of Star Levitt.

These two were shaped by nature to be enemies, two strong men with their faces turned in the same direction, yet backed by wholly varied thinking. The one ruthless and relentless, willing to take any advantage, willing to stop at nothing. The other, hard, toughened by range wars and fighting, with the rough-handed fair play of the western plains, yet equally relentless. It could be something, Mabry thought, if they ever came together in physical combat.

Ross began building a smoke. "Looks like a good herd. You got many cows here?"

"Quite a few." Levitt glanced at him sharply. "I hear you have some, too. That you're running the Gallows Frame brand."

"That's right," Ross lighted his smoke and eased his seat on the palouse. "It's a good brand."

"Seems so. Strange that I hadn't heard of any cattle coming into the country lately. Did you pick yours up on the range?"

At many times in many places such a remark would have meant shooting. After Haney's equally insulting remarks in the Bit and Bridle they were not important. These two knew their time was coming, and neither was in a rush. Levitt was completely, superbly confident. Ross hard and determined, his hackles raised by this man, his manner always verging on the out- rightly aggressive.

"No, I didn't need to. Your pattern suits you, mine suits me." He inhaled deeply and let the smoke trickle out through his nostrils. "My cattle were already here."

The remark drew the response he wanted. It was a quick, nervous, and irritable scowl from Levitt. "That's impossible!" he said. "Only three brands ran on this range until I moved in!"

Haney smiled, knowing his enigmatic smile and manner would infuriate Levitt.

"Star," he drawled, "you're an hombre that figures he's right smart, an' you might be if you didn't figure the other fellow was so all-fired dumb.

"A man like you ain't got a chance to win for long in any game for that reason. You take everybody for bein' loco or dumb as a month- old calf. You ride into everything full of confidence an' sneers. You're like most crooks. You think everything will turn out right for you. Why, you're so wrong it don't need any argument!

"You came into this country big an' strong. You were goin' to be the boss. You saw Reynolds an' Pogue, an' you figured them for easy marks. You maybe had something on the Vernons, I haven't figured that out yet, but like so many crooks you overlooked the obvious.

"Let me tell you something, my cutthroat friend, an' get it straight: you lost this fight before you started. You might win with bullets, that's still anybody's guess, but you'll lose. You're smart in a lot of ways, an' if you were really smart you'd turn that horse of yours and start out of this country an' never stop until you're five hundred miles east of Tascosa."

Levitt smiled, but the smile was forced. For the first time the big man was uneasy, yet it was only for a moment. "I may not be as smart as I think, Haney, but no four-bit cowhand is going to outsmart me."

Ross turned slightly. "Bill, let's drift down toward the pens. I want to see what Reynolds an' Pogue think of those altered brands."

Chapter
XII

Roundup Massacre

Nonchalantly Haney turned his back on Levitt and started away. Mabry rode beside him, occasionally stealing a glance his way. "Boss, you're sure turnin' the knife in that hombre. What you aimin' to do, force his hand?"

"Somethin' like that. It does me good just to goad him. But you keep your eyes open, because he's got something cookin' now. I only wish," his brow creased with worry, "I knew what he had on the Vernons. You don't suppose she really cares for that hombre, do you?"

Mabry shrugged. "I can guess what a fool cow will do, an' I can outguess a bronc, but keep me away from women. I never could read the sign right to foller their trail. Just when you think you can read the brand, they turn the other way an' it looks altogether different."

Despite the growing sense of danger, the roundup was moving very well, yet the tenseness of the riders for all the brands was becoming increasingly evident. Several times Ross saw Sherry, but she avoided him. Bob Vernon was there, working like any of his men and showing himself to be a fair hand and a very willing one. Yet as his eyes roved the herd and searched the faces of the riders, Ross could see that under the heat, the irritating confusing dust, and the hard labor, tempers were growing short.

On the third day, when the roundup had moved to the vicinity of Soledad, the break came. He had been trying to find a chance to talk to Sherry, and suddenly he saw it. The girl had been talking with Levitt. She had started away from him, riding toward the cottonwoods that marked the VV ranch house.