North was studying, not the cattle, but the men. He had lost a crew, a range and several herds because of a new trick used against him. If it had worked for other men it could work for him. In fact, the more he considered it, the better he had liked the possibilities. He swung his horse now to where two riders rode a little apart from the others, and his face lightened. Here was luck. He lifted a hand, greeting them familiarly.

  “Hi, Ames,” he called. “And you, Rowe. Been a long time since I’ve seen such an ugly pair of horsethieves!”

  Their faces lit up in turn at sight of North and his affectionately insulting hail. These were men he’d ridden with before.

  Ames was a chunky man with a shaggy head of grizzly hair. There was thick hair on his hands and arms. Rowe, by contrast, was tall, beardless, bald as an egg. But both men had a look about them which, once seen, was unmistakable. The look of men not much at ease in any one place for long at a time. There was always a reason for that—somewhere behind.

  “What you doing down this way?” Ames asked, once the greeting had been returned. “Thought you had acquired yourself a spread in Kansas, Rawe?”

  “I have,” North agreed. “Where you going with this herd, feller?”

  Ames jerked his head to indicate the trail they’d come.

  “Headin’ north,” he said. “Poor time of year for it, but that ain’t our funeral. These belong to a man named Pleasant. We’ve been ten days gettin’ this far. He’ll be along in another week or so. Busted. Got these scraped together. Aims to make him a new start somewhere up above.”

  It was a familiar story. North’s eyes were speculative.

  “Not a bad bunch of cattle.” he commented. “And you boys are on the move too, eh?”

  “A man has to eat,” Ames said flatly. “The farther south you go, the worse things are. He promised us pay—later.”

  A crooked smile twisted across Rowe’s face.

  “Yeah. And Ames wanted to get out of Texas. Figgered some other climate might be healthier.”

  The hairy man nodded without rancor.

  “That was one reason,” he conceded.

  North had turned to look toward the other riders.

  “Friends of yours?”

  “Some of them.”

  “How’d you like double pay all the way to Kansas—and a steady job when you get there?”

  They exchanged glances, hesitated, then nodded.

  “You got somethin’ in mind, North?”

  “I could use that bunch of beef,” North retorted. “How many of the others will go along with you?”

  A startled light glowed for an instant in Rowe’s eyes, faded.

  “Ain’t that a mite high-handed?”

  “I’m offerin’ you double pay,” North reminded. “How about it?”

  “We-el,” Ames scratched his ear speculatively, “I been doubtful of where we’d get, drivin’ into the teeth of winter. But with you in charge—I reckon we could go to hell or the plumb opposite an’ fight a way through. I’m willin’.”

  “Two of the others ain’t likely to agree,” Rowe calculated. “I think mebby the others will.”

  “We’ll talk to them,” North said. “Your pay starts as of ten days ago. And here’s your first month’s wages.”

  He pulled a roll of bills from his pocket, money which Garwood had unwillingly furnished the night before. Their eyes lighted greedily at sight of real cash. Both accepted their share avidly, noting that the roll was scarcely diminished. With it held openly in his hand, North rode to where the others were gathering, leaving the herd momentarily to drift.

  “You talk to ’em, Ames,” he suggested.

  Ames wasted no words.

  “This is Rawe North from Kansas,” he said. “Born a Texan, and now he’s got the biggest spread north of here. These cattle stand just one chance of gettin through at all, a winter drive—if he rods the herd. Which he’s going to do. Double pay for every man that works for him, startin’ ten days back—and the first month’s wages now, cash! I’m stringin’ along, me and Rowe. You boys wasn’t born yesterday, I take it?”

  There was a minute of startled silence. Accustomed as most of them were to high-handed methods, this cool appropriation of another man’s herd in his absence, the buying of his crew, was pretty strong medicine. But it had been worked against him, and already North, sure of himself, was counting out the money.

  “Come and get it,” he invited.

  It was not to be so easy. None of them stirred, and one spoke up angrily.

  “Let’s get this straight! Are you buy in’ this herd from Pleasant—or stealin’ them?”

  North’s eyes were frosty.

  “I don’t like that word!”

  “And I don’t like Yankee thieves,” the other man retorted hotly. “There’s been too damn much of this sort of thing already.”

  “Like I told you, North ain’t no Yankee,” Ames said placatingly. “He’s a Texan himself.”

  “Texan, is he? With a spread in Yankee country? Sounds like he’s caught the habit, comin’ down here to steal from honest men—”

  “I’ve listened to enough of that talk,” North warned. “Either you men take my pay and work for me—or you don’t. Make your choice!”

  The rebellious one reined his horse angrily back. After a moment, one other man rode to join him. But the rest of the crew, after a brief hesitation, did what Ames had predicted. They came over to take their money and join with them. North had a way of picking men.

  “You’re a fine bunch!” the rebel raged. “Dirty traitors! Wait’ll we tell Pleasant what’s happened to his herd. You won’t be able to get away with this. They’ll catch and hang you ‘fore you get out of Texas—”

  “Do you think we’d be such fools?” North demanded. “You had a chance to make your choice. But you’ll carry no word away from here.”

  Panic leaped to the eyes of the man who had come to side the rebellious puncher. Both of them went for their guns. But Noland Doll had come prepared for this, and his gun matched North’s for speed. The puncher who had voiced protest had his iron clear of leather, but that was all. His companion did not get that far.

  It was an impressive demonstration, if any of their new-hired crew should be in need of bolstering. North coolly punched out the empty shell, replaced it with a fresh cartridge, and holstered his gun.

  “Bury them here,” he instructed. “Then drive the herd across it.”

  That was ancient practice, to hide a grave from the Indians. Here there was no threat of that nature, but the reason was as obvious. The job was done, and in silence. North busied himself with ascertaining that the chuck wagon was well stocked.

  “You’ll be in charge here and rod this herd, Ames,” he instructed. “Drift along easy for a while. There’ll be more dogies before long, to build the herd up. And Noll and I will soon join you.”

  “What about a road iron?” Ames asked.

  “We’ll change no brands till we get to Kansas. Keep your eyes open—and your guns handy. But I hardly need to tell you that. Come on, Noll. This is just a starter.”

  - 11 -

  DOLL was glad of the rain. It had come up swiftly, almost a deluge, soaking them instantly. But he felt the need of a washing. He had guessed pretty well what would lie ahead of them on this journey, but the actuality was always worse. He had felt sick, as they filled that double grave, and he knew he’d have no appetite for supper. The rain seemed to help, as though drawing a curtain between them and what had been.

  Not that any of it was new. He had trailed his cayuse after Rawe North’s star because North did things in a big way. You didn’t corral fifteen thousand head of cattle, and the range to run them on, in a night. Not by conventional methods.

  It had taken five years to build up the Rail Road brand from scratch. But this time North was in a hurry. He had no added five years to waste, and his methods were those which he and others had tried and found workable, but on a bigger, grimmer scale.

  This crew that he had appropriated could be depended on. They wouldn’t sell out again. Any man could do that, once. After that, his very life depended on sticking with the man who had purchased him. When North returned to Kansas, he aimed to have a salty crew who would follow him to hell, if necessary. Some of them probably didn’t realize what they were letting themselves in for. Learning, it would be too late to change.

  Down trail again, and here was more luck, ready-made for such a man as North. Here was a bawling mass of longhorns, held loosely across half a dozen miles. No need to ask what was toward, for a Texan. The wild herds had multiplied during the war years. The brush was thick with them, though many had been gathered in this last year or so. But plenty more waited for whoever could haze them out from among the slashing thorns and put his iron on them.

  Four thousand head had been rounded up by forty men, and held. A few more were still being gathered, but these would be ready to roll gradually north on the heels of winter; north to land beyond the line of steel now bisecting Kansas.

  As was to be expected, the owner was a carpetbagger. Himself far away and safe in the capital, bending sullen but helpless men to do his will.

  North eyed the herd, and Doll caught the gleam in his eyes.

  “There’s a town on below here,” North commented. “Longhorn. We’ll get ourselves a crew—and then we’ll come back!”

  No need to ask what he meant. Hijacking the herd wouldn’t be too hard. Men would work for a carpetbagger, but their loyalty was thin. Yet the implications caused Doll to shake his head. A man who lived at the capital and directed from there would have a long arm and a vengeful one. And here they were deep down in Texas. Taking the herd would be easy, as compared with getting out with it.

  Longhorn was old, but most of it was new. There had been few in the town a year before. The boom in cattle had brought it up overnight like a mushroom. Or perhaps a toadstool. Doll decided, considering it. Amid all its squalor, one saloon was outstanding, bigger, more garish. It bore, for this inland country, a strange name: The Paddle Wheel.

  They stabled their horses, and North paused, putting a match to a long cigar. His eyes fixed on the sign above the door.

  “The Paddle Wheel,” he repeated. “There was a Paddle Wheel in St. Louis. . . . Let’s go in.”

  His craggy face was wiped clean of expression, but the name had jarred him. For the most part, he had taught himself not to think of Kansas, nor allow his thoughts to dwell on Marian Breen. He had realized, belatedly, that he had acted badly in leaving her the way he had. She would, of course, turn back as soon as she saw the burned ground and gauged the extent of catastrophe. She had come to Kansas with the clear understanding that he was the biggest man and the richest in all that part of the country. She had made it plain, back in St. Louis, that she was marrying him only because of his possessions.

  It was simple, but not, he knew now, that simple. He had owed her something for coming, and it would not be easy to explain his actions when he saw her again. Nostalgia was like a sharp blade turned in a half healed wound now. That tawny, old-gold hair which crowned her high-held head, the deep sweetness of her voice when she sang—

  Always it had been a business proposition between them, but he knew, with bitter sharpness, that it was more than that with him. There had been other women possessed of beauty and grace, who could preside over a palace such as he had built. Women whom he had given scarcely a second glance. . . .

  Now, if she had married Tripp Devero, because he was in turn the big man along the Arkansas—

  Next time we meet, Devero, I’ll have to kill you, he thought. Whatever has happened, whatever does—nothing will change that!

  He felt wild hatred surge in him, a feeling which he had carefully kept bottled up. Such strong emotion could disturb a man’s thinking, spoil his coolness of calculation, lead him to ruin. He’d seen it happen to others and guarded against it, keeping a tight rein on himself. But it was there—so savage that it half sickened him with the intensity of its bitterness. This was what the name of a far-off saloon could do to him. . . .

  He had himself under control as they walked in and up to the bar. And then he received a second shock.

  There were women here—not that there was anything unusual about that. But one of them was familiar. He stared at her, and saw that she was looking back at him with that same amazement, and that drove away the last bit of doubt. This girl had been in the Paddle Wheel at St. Louis. He’d never paid much attention to her, but that hair, like smoke-filled flame, was distinctive. What was her name—Alice—no, Altie—that was it. Altie.

  “How did you get here?” he demanded abruptly, crossing to her.

  There was a roughness in this man to match his exterior. Altie had sensed it back in St. Louis. Now she felt it like a slap in the face. She looked about appealingly, and her eyes met those of Doll for a moment. They seemed to steady her as she answered.

  “Why, I—I just drifted here,” she explained. “The old place was all broken up—after that night.”

  “You’re Altie, aren’t you?” North’s voice was less gruff. “Seeing you here surprised me.”

  “It surprised me too, to—to see you here,” Altie faltered. “I thought you’d be in Kansas with Marian.”

  From the look on his face she knew that she had said the wrong thing. North turned abruptly and walked to the bar, but Doll lingered. Something about the hurt look in this girl’s eyes, the way she had spoken Marian’s name, caught his attention.

  Let’s sit down,” he suggested. I’ll buy a drink. I—I’d like to talk to you.”

  She agreed, abstractedly. Studying him for a moment, then looking to where North stood.

  “You’re with him?” she asked.

  “I’m his foreman.”

  “And his friend?”

  Doll considered that, and nodded.

  “I suppose so,” he agreed. “You—you knew him before?”

  “I worked in the Paddle Wheel in St. Louis, while Marian was there,” Altie said. “I guess that was what made me suggest the name for this place.”

  “What happened there?” Doll asked. “I never heard.”

  “Mr. North said that he was going to take Marian away. Pete Hartse said no. He was the boss. They fought. Then Mr. Devero shot Pete to prevent him knifing Mr. North.”

  This was news to Doll. He pondered it, still not understanding. Now she was questioning in turn, her voice eager.

  “Where’s Marian?” she asked. “What happened to her? I—I hope nothing’s wrong.”

  “There’s plenty wrong,” Doll retorted. “Devero struck— wiped out the ranch, burned the range.” For some reason which he did not quite understand, he went on to explain in some detail what he knew—how he had ridden to tell North, his single glimpse of the Thrush, and of how North had ridden away with him, not going back.

  “I’ve never said much to him about it,” he confessed. “But it’s a play I can’t figure. If she came clear out there to marry him—then for him to go off and leave her that way—” He shook his head.

  “He thought she wouldn’t marry him, with everything gone,” Altie explained.

  “Well, at least I’d have found out,” Doll exploded. “Wouldn’t she?” he added.

  Altie shook her head, tracing patterns on the table top with one finger, where liquor had been spilled.

  “I don’t know,” she confessed. “Marian is my best friend, about the only real friend I had. I—I never did understand her, but I liked her. I don’t think he understood her, either.” She looked up at him with a quick smile. “You know my name, but you haven’t told me yours.”

  He hesitated, then blurted it out.

  “You’ll laugh, of course. It’s Doll—Noland Doll.”

  “Why should I laugh?” she demanded. “I—I rather like it.”

  “You do?” He found himself unaccountably eager. “Mostly, I have to lick a man—when I tell it. And women—”

  “People are mostly mean, I guess, aren’t they?” Altie nodded, and he saw the disillusion in her eyes. “At least, that’s the way I’ve found them.”

  To his surprise, Doll found that he enjoyed talking to this girl. Usually he was ill at ease with women, unsure of himself. Altie was friendly, like a man, sympathetic. Maybe it was because she was the friend of Marian Breen. Not that he knew Marian, but it was a link of sorts, and it seemed to make a difference. He felt a twinge of regret when finally he saw that North was ready to go.

  “I—I hope I’ll see you again,” he blurted. “I like to talk to you.”

  “I like you too, Doll,” Altie agreed. “I’ll be here, of course.”

  He was relieved that North did not mention her. He seemed to have lost all interest in her after that first question or so. He had not wasted his evening. Out of the crowd half a score of men now took his pay.

  “They’ll get me more of a crew in the next couple of days,” he added. “We’ll wait till there’s fifty. A little rest will do us no harm.”

  Doll had no need to ask him what he meant. He knew. That big herd of mavericks was to be their booty. They, with the two thousand that had belonged to Pleasant, would make six thousand head. A huge bunch to trail north, the sizable foundation of a new fortune.

  Probably it could be done, even with winter blowing across the vast sweep of land in between. If anyone could do it, Rawe North was the man. This was still a lawless country, and plenty of men got away with murder. A change was coming, which would presently make such high-handed methods impossible. Right now, however, law was little more than a shadow.

  Oddly, Doll found a growing distaste in himself. Once he hadn’t boggled at such methods. Plenty of old-timers, respected men in their community now, had founded their fortunes in just such a manner. But somehow he was coming to hate it.

  The trouble was that he was in too far to turn now. And there was one good thing. They would be here for a couple of days. He’d get to see Altie again.

  That, too, was strange. That he should wish to see her. But in her he sensed a spirit akin to his own. Loneliness, and circumstances which had crowded her gradually into a way not of her choosing nor liking. He was like that now. caught —as were the men with that herd which had belonged to pleasant, hired by North and now inexorably in his power. They had really had no choice, any more than the pair who had refused. It had been that or die. Those two had kept their honor clean. But of what use was that when you were dead?

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15