The Bounty Hunters, page 2
“Oh, God,” Ramsey said, his heart sinking. Then he asked, “Do you think he’ll come here? They already killed my son and attacked my wife. Wasn’t that enough? I never did them any harm. It was you killed his brother.”
Travis sighed and sat down wearily in a chair. “I think you should sell the ranch and leave here,” he said. “You can’t fight the Grayson gang.”
“Sell the ranch?” Ramsey cried. “This ranch is my whole life. And where would I go that they wouldn’t find me?”
“I’ve been thinking about that,” Travis said. “Remember that log cabin over in New Mexico, where we found those horse thieves back in ‘71?”
“You mean that old shack?” Ramsey asked in amazement, staring at Travis as if he had gone mad.
“It’s not much,” Travis admitted. “But you might be safe there.”
“My God!” Ramsey said. “That old shack!” He stared at the younger man and began to tremble with anger. He had taken Travis in when he was a homeless boy and treated him like a son. Had even made him foreman over his own son and in so doing had turned his son against him. And how had Travis repaid him? By bringing ruin down on him, that’s how! Since Travis had killed Red Grayson, Ramsey had not known a good night’s sleep. Worry and dread had turned his hair gray and put lines in his face. He was only fifty, but looked ten years older. He had known all along that sooner or later Sam Grayson would find out about his connection with Travis and then come after him for what Travis had done. “Don’t he know it wasn’t my fault?” Then the rancher asked suspiciously, “Or does he think I sent you after his brother?”
“I don’t know what he thinks,” Travis said wearily. “I never asked him.”
“No, you just rode in there and killed his brother, probably without even telling him why you did it,” Ramsey said bitterly. “Why did you do it, Ben? You never cared that much about Lyle. You never even liked him. Or maybe it was because of Nita. I never thought of that.”
“I felt someone should do it and I knew you wouldn’t,” Travis said.
“I guess you know now I was right not to!” the rancher exclaimed. “How long ago was it, going on five years now? And they’re still looking for you. They’ll keep on looking for you till you’re dead. And I know why too. Sam Grayson trusted you, just like I did—and you paid him back by killing his brother!”
“I never owed Sam Grayson anything,” Travis said. “I figured I did owe you something.”
“And that’s how you paid me back?” Ramsey asked. “My God, Ben, I always thought you had a head on your shoulders. Then you go off and do a fool thing like that. You should have known you couldn’t go up against the Grayson gang by yourself. They make the James gang look like school boys. How many are there of them anyhow?”
“There are two fewer than there were yesterday,” Travis said.
“What?” the rancher asked hoarsely, jumping to his feet. “You mean you killed two more of them? Yesterday! That means it wasn’t far from here!” The rancher’s voice rose in alarm and his eyes were almost wild with fear. “You mean you’ve led them back this way?”
“I didn’t know they were getting that close,” Travis said. “Three of them tried to hold up the stage. I’m not even sure they knew I was in it.” After a moment he added, “One of Grayson’s men was on the stage, but I don’t think he recognized me.”
“What do you mean, you don’t think he recognized you?” Ramsey cried. “How could he not recognize you? I thought you rode with them a while before you killed Red Grayson.”
“I looked different,” Travis said. “I was wearing a beard and different clothes when I rode into their camp.”
“But you used your own name,” Ramsey said. “If it was your name. I always had a feeling Ben Travis wasn’t your real name. But I didn’t ask questions. A lot of people in this country have left their name and their past behind them and I wanted to give you a chance to do the same and make a new life for yourself. But after you killed Red Grayson and people started talking about you, I commenced to wonder what you were before. Just who the hell are you anyway?”
“It doesn’t matter now,” Travis said, getting to his feet. “I’m obliged to you for trying to give me another chance. But I guess it was a waste of time. When they killed Lyle, I knew only one way to settle it—the same way I would have settled it before I came here. I guess it was the wrong way, but it’s still the only way I know.”
“Then keep away from here,” Ramsey told him. “You’ll just bring me more trouble.”
“I’m afraid I’ve already brought you some more,” Travis said. “There were three men. One got away. And the one on the stage. But it’s not them that worries me so much. There’s a bounty hunter on my trail, a man named Link Colman. He’ll probably come here nosing around and then get word to Sam Grayson that I used to work for you. Red Grayson never told Sam about coming here and killing Lyle, and I don’t think the man who was with him has ever mentioned it either. But this bounty hunter has found out somehow and he plans to get in touch with Grayson. He’s after the bounty Grayson has offered for me and he thinks Grayson will be more likely to trust him if he passes on some information about me.”
“Wait a minute,” Ramsey said. “What you’re trying to say is, Grayson’s men may come here and kill me because you killed Grayson’s brother—is that it?”
Travis nodded. “I think it’s possible. That’s the only reason I came out here tonight. I didn’t figure you’d be too happy to see me.”
“Why did you even come back this way?” Ramsey asked.
“I don’t know,” Travis said. “I just wanted to see this part of the country again. I didn’t think it would hurt anything if I just passed through and kept going.”
“You sure that’s the only reason?” Ramsey asked, watching him sharply. “I never figgered you’d come back to see me, but I thought you might try to see Nita again.”
For a long silent moment Travis watched Ramsey out of tired gray-blue eyes. In the end it was the nervous rancher who looked away. He passed a hand over his eyes and paced the floor.
“I always wondered what Lyle was doing back here the day he was killed,” Ramsey said. He suddenly stopped pacing and looked directly at Travis. “Do you know why he left the roundup in the middle of the day and come back to the ranch?”
“No, I don’t,” Travis said. “Maybe he didn’t like the cook’s grub.”
Ramsey trembled with anger. “Dammit, this ain’t no joking matter. My son’s dead and I’d like to know why. Did you ever hear him say anything about Nita?”
“Lyle and I didn’t confide in each other very much,” Travis said. “The only reason I went after the men who killed him was that he was your son. I thought I owed it to you.”
“What about the other man?” Ramsey asked. “Did you kill him too?”
Travis shook his head. “I never found out which one he was. It wasn’t hard to figure out who Red Grayson was. There aren’t all that many big redheaded men with buckteeth running around loose.”
“If you ever find the other one, don’t kill him till you ask him some questions,” Ramsey said. “I’d say not kill him at all, but I don’t guess it can do any harm now.”
“What sort of questions?” Travis asked.
Ramsey scowled and rubbed his forehead. “Well, you know. Just try to find out exactly what happened here that day. Nita was so upset, I ain’t ever been sure we got the straight of it out of her.”
Travis frowned slightly. “What are you trying to say, Chet?”
Ramsey’s scowl deepened. “I think you know what I’m saying,” he grunted. “Why do you think I never went after them men myself?”
Travis did not answer, but something in his silence and in his hard, impassive face increased Ramsey’s irritation.
“You prob’ly think I was afraid to, like everyone else,” the rancher said bitterly. “But that wasn’t it. I had my own reasons. I ain’t ever been sure why them men come out here, unless they heard loose talk in town, or what Lyle was doin’ back here at that time of day when he should of been at the roundup. To think my own son might—”
Just then a female voice with a Mexican accent rose angrily from another part of the house. “When are you going to bed, Chet Ramsey? Who are you talking to anyway?”
“Go on back to sleep,” Ramsey called. “I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
“Who are you talking to?” the woman asked again.
The rancher’s face clouded with anger. “Since when are you interested in ranch business?” he barked. “If you are, it’s the first I’ve heard of it. I thought it was only the ranch hands you were interested in.”
“Oh, you go to hell, Chet Ramsey!” the woman yelled angrily. “Stay up all night and see if I care!”
“That bitch,” the rancher muttered, shaking his head. “She never gives me a minute’s peace day or night. And she sure as hell won’t stay in that old shack where we found them horse thieves.”
“No, I guess not,” Travis said. “I’ve tried staying there myself a few times and even I soon get tired of it. I only mentioned it because I thought you might be safe there. Nobody much seems to know about it.”
“No wonder, where it’s at,” Ramsey said. He sighed. “But I guess I’ll have to sell the ranch for whatever I can get and go somewhere. Nita has been wanting a change. Maybe she’ll be happy, at least. If anything can make her happy.”
He gave Travis a hard look. “I’d just as soon you don’t try to find us,” he said. “I’m afraid you might lead Grayson’s men to us. If you ain’t already.”
Chapter 3
Two days later Link Colman sat in his hotel room nursing a bitter grudge against Travis. The man had made him look like a fool in his own eyes. No one had ever done that before, and Colman was not in a mood to let him get away with it. He would hunt the man down no matter how long it took.
At first it had been nothing more than a business proposition. There had been nothing personal in it. But that was changed now. He knew he would never be satisfied until he proved to himself—and to Travis—that the latter could not make him look like a bungling amateur and get away with it.
Colman had gone out to the Big R Ranch, but had not been able to learn anything. They were expecting him and had instructions to tell him nothing. He had never seen such a silent, stony-faced bunch. What especially galled him was that he knew they were not protecting Travis. They were protecting themselves. But even that wasn’t all of it. Colman knew they would not have told him anything even if he had gone there looking for someone who meant nothing to them. Everyone hated bounty hunters.
He had not even seen the rancher’s wife, the one he most wanted to question. He had heard talk about her in the saloon and had a pretty good idea what kind of woman she was. Normally he would have stayed away from her, knowing she meant trouble. But he had a hunch she might be the one most likely to tell him what he wanted to know. In the first place, women could not keep anything to themselves; and in the second, it was well known that she went out of her way to do whatever her husband told her not to.
But Colman knew he was kidding himself. He didn’t need any of them to tell him what he already knew. It was only his stubbornness that kept him here—his stubbornness and a kind of malicious resentment at the way they had treated him. He wanted to see everyone connected with the Big R squirm a little before he left.
He had not entirely wasted his time. He had even followed Travis’s trail for a few miles away from the Big R headquarters and had found Travis’s empty carpetbag in some brush. With little doubt Travis had had a pair of saddlebags and a blanket or two stuffed in the carpetbag, as well as other things he would need. Soon after finding the carpetbag Colman had lost the trail. But somewhere he would find it again, or he would find Travis.
He was the only one of the stage passengers still in Cottonwood Creek. He did not know where the fat drummer had gone, and he did not care. Barney Pierce and Lorna Mason had taken the stage on to Comanche Crossing, a small town not far from the caprock of the Staked Plains, which meant it was on the edge of nowhere. The town was not on any map that Colman had ever seen. Officially it did not even exist. Maybe they had not asked the right people for permission to build a town there.
Colman had considered the possibility that Travis might go to Comanche Crossing, or at least through there to pick up supplies. But he did not think so. If Travis was heading north or south, it would be several days out of his way. And he could not see Travis crossing the Staked Plains. That waterless waste was hell itself, inhabited only by condemned men, the outcasts of civilization, and a few remaining Comanches and Comancheros, who had never been civilized, and were more dangerous than the men on Travis’s trail.
It was even possible that Grayson’s men had abandoned the chase for the time being. They did not spend all their time looking for Travis. Their main business was robbing banks and holding up stages. But when things were slow there would usually be two or three of them out after the five thousand dollars their chief had offered for Travis, dead or alive.
It was not just the money, however. It was mainly the sport of the thing. It had become a deadly, exciting game that they played to amuse themselves and test their skills against a dangerous, elusive foe. Travis had already killed some of them and their replacements had never seen him, which made their work harder. But on the other hand he did not know what they looked like either, and that made it impossible for him to trust anyone or feel safe anywhere.
For a moment Colman was touched with a feeling of compassion for the man, who was in many ways a lot like himself. They were both loners without friends or a home to go back to. Unfortunate circumstances or perhaps something in their natures had set them apart from the rest of mankind. Colman had always been alone, even in a crowd, and he knew it had been the same with Travis even before he had killed Red Grayson. Chet Ramsey had tried to give him a home and adopt him as a son, but Travis had not wanted a father. He had remained an outsider, even after he became foreman of the ranch.
Colman thought it was too bad he and Travis could not have been friends. But he had his doubts whether Travis would have picked him for a friend, even if he wanted friends. And then he remembered the clout on the head Travis had given him. That had not been a very friendly thing to do. It showed that Travis had not trusted him. He had been right not to, but Colman resented him for it all the same. And he decided that since Travis had not wanted him for a friend, he would find out the hard way what it was like to have Link Colman for an enemy.
On the other hand he knew it would not do to underestimate Travis either. He was a little afraid Travis had fixed his gun so it would not fire, although he could find nothing wrong with it. He had even thought about buying a new gun.
Sitting by the window, he cleaned the gun and ran his finger along the under side of the barrel where it must have made contact with the back of his head. Then, scowling, he carefully put the hat back on and looked down at a buggy passing by on the street.
He stood up and bent toward the window for a better look. There was a beautiful, black-haired woman in the buggy, handling the lines with a careless ease. There was insolence and haughtiness written all over her. Somehow Colman knew it was Chet Ramsey’s Mexican wife. She stopped the buggy in front of a store, got out and went inside without bothering to tie the sleek black horse.
Colman rose and looked at his face in the mirror. He decided that it was every bit as arrogant and insolent as the face of the Mexican woman and, although he hated to admit it, almost as dark. His grandmother had been half Cherokee. That was about as far back as he could remember. Many people thought he was part Mexican—which did not make him feel any better about his dark skin. But it might make a Mexican woman more willing to talk to him.
Leaving his room and the hotel, he went to the livery stable, asked for the blue roan that he had used before and rode south along the creek road. When he had gone about a mile he pulled aside into a grove of cottonwoods and waited in the saddle, facing the road and smoking a cigar.
It was a longer wait than he had expected and he was growing impatient when he finally heard the buggy coming. As it came into view he rode out into the trail and the woman halted the rig in surprise. Her great dark eyes showed alarm, amazement and scorn all at once, and she half raised her whip as if to use it on him. She was even more beautiful than he had thought, with heavy black hair falling over her shoulders and full breasts. She was taller and slimmer than most Mexican women—which made her fantastic curves even more noticeable.
“Get out of my way!” she cried, her eyes flashing with anger. “What do you want?”
“Like to talk to you a minute,” he said.
She looked him over and the scorn in her eyes became more pronounced. “I remember you,” she said. “You’re the one who came to the ranch. You’re that bounty hunter!”
“That’s right,” he said. “I thought you might be a little more polite than your husband was.”
“He warned me about you,” she said. “He told me you’d try to ask me about Travis.”
“What do you know about Travis?” Colman asked.
“I don’t know nothing about him,” she said. “Now get out of my way.”
“You have a choice,” Colman said, watching her closely. “Either you talk to me or I tell your husband what really happened at the ranch that day.”
The alarm was back in the woman’s great dark eyes. But she asked with withering scorn, “What do you know about it? You weren’t even there!”
“You seem to forget,” he said. “There were two men. Travis only killed one of them. I talked to the other one.”
“I don’t believe you!” the woman said angrily. “You’re trying to trick me! If you know so much already, why are you bothering me?”
