Killing Halfbreed (15 page)

We asked for a description of the men, but their response was more blank facial expressions.  I scrounged in my saddle bag and found a box of ammo, which I tossed over to them.  An Apache in the center of the group caught it one-handed, and they examined it closely.  They were satisfied with the payment.

They proceeded to describe the men and their horses in great detail.  From their description, I recognized a couple of the Talon gang, along with some others I didn't think I knew.  They said there’d been seven of them, which matched the tracks we’d been following. Their description of the horses was even more detailed.  Apaches valued horses a lot more than they did white men.

Will and I set back on the trail.  I'd be durned if I was going to let them get away with stealing my cattle and trading them away.  I had a feeling we'd catch up shortly.

It was a comfort having Will alongside. The whole time I was talking to those Apaches, he never took his hand off that rifle.

***

Will and I stumbled across their camp about nine in the morning.  It was completely abandoned.

I looked around warily as an uneasy breeze blew through the rustler’s extinguished camp. Its whispers seemed to bear a message of caution.

Will was alert as well.  He crouched, trying to spy out all the angles without looking too obvious.  I kicked the remains of the fire.  The thieves had been here within the past few hours — the ashes were still hot.

Suddenly, I wanted nothing better than to get out of there, under cover or not, I didn't care.  Something didn't feel right.  We were too vulnerable, too visible.

I motioned at Will to move to the horses so we could leave. A flash of sunlight glinted off a rifle barrel up in the cliffs above and behind him.  The owner was trying to get into a better position to fire at us and doing his best to stay out of sight.

"Will," I whispered, “Rifleman, twelve o’clock.”

"You got one too, Jake."

We stood facing each other for a moment and somehow we both understood the other's thoughts without speaking.  I twisted deftly and swept my rifle from its scabbard, pausing only to aim at the gunman on the ridge.  Will duplicated my effort, and it was hard to tell which of us was swifter.  Our rifles barked in unison, taking the ambushers completely off guard.  Both targets yelped in either pain or surprise, I couldn't tell which.

I dove to the ground for cover.  Will scrambled around the horses.  A third gunman whipped off a hurried shot which spewed up dirt to my right.  I fired a couple back his way but couldn't tell if I’d hit home.  I wasn't real worried about him though.  From the sound of it, he carried a pistol, not a rifle.

There were a few more sporadic shots aimed our way, but nothing threatening.  We'd cut the ambush off before it had got started.

We let the quiet set in for a good while and then decided they'd left.  Searching the ridge line, we found Will had killed his target.  The man’s dusty body lay in a twisted angle.  Blood on an opposing ledge testified that I'd at least wounded mine, but he'd been able to get away with the third, unknown shooter.

Will grinned at me as if to brag about who was the better shot.  I was a little put off by that.  I didn't like being shown up.

Will convinced me to head back to the ranch.  He pointed out, rightly, that my cows were gone for good.  We were just seeking revenge now, and putting our lives in danger to do it.

He also pointed out that I still had thirty good cows waiting for me back on my ranch which needed watching, and which might get rustled as well if I delayed my return much longer.

The wisdom in what he said was clear, so we headed home.  Will thought he might as well tag along, being that he didn't have anywhere else to go.  Said he could help me out on the ranch.

I told him I wouldn't be able to pay him anything, but he didn't care, said a man had to keep busy, even if he didn't get paid.  I thought that was mighty foolish, but mama always taught me not to look a gift horse in the mouth.

We worked hard the rest of the summer and into the fall.  We finished expanding the watering hole.  It was a good spring, so by the time we were done, it could handle thousands of cattle — if we were ever to have that many.  Doesn’t hurt to dream.

Will impressed me with his dedication.  I've never seen anybody work so hard for nothing.

***

The sun was hot in the brilliant, blue sky.  I mopped the sweat from my brow. The beautiful weather mirrored my spirit.

Things finally seemed to be going my way, and I was pleased with our progress.  We'd gotten a lot done and fairly quickly. Things always did seem to go faster when you had help. The ranch was not only in tip-top shape, but it was improved to boot.

On top of that, I thought I might have a new lead on Ben's disappearance.  The Apaches had mentioned that one of the rustlers had a horse with a white star on his forehead.  I’d bumped into one of Dunagan’s men yesterday, who thought he’d seen one of the men working on Logan’s ranch with a horse like that.

I planned to go to town tomorrow to talk to Michael Byers, the newspaperman, about it.  He seemed to know just about everybody and he’d been receptive to me so far, at least more so than anyone else.

As I plotted my next moves, I spied a plume of dust rising up from the road that led to Cottonwood.

Somebody was coming to see us.

It looked like just one wagon rather than a group of horses, so it didn’t appear to be a threat.  Will spotted the dust cloud too and moved to my side to await the visitor.

It turned out to be Carlton Andrews.  I noted the dusty trail hadn't seemed to sully his immaculate suit any.

"Ho, there, Talbot!"  He waved a hand in my direction and tipped his hat at Will.

"I hoped to be able to find you out here today.  Glad to see my trip was not in vain."

"Halfbreed’s the name.  What can I do for you?"

"Halfbreed, eh?”  He looked puzzled.  “Well, you asked me to bring you a copy of the mortgage agreement your brother had signed once I found it.  I had misplaced it apparently, which is why I'm delayed in bringing it, but here it is!

"As you can see, we paid him a sum of several thousand dollars in the form of a loan, with the ranch property being used as securing collateral."

He handed me the document with a glassy, cool smile.  I took the paper and studied it for a minute, noticing the signature at the bottom that clearly read ‘Benjamin Talbot’.

Andrews continued his satisfied speech. "I didn't imagine it would be very difficult for you to make the payments, since the loan is for quite a long term.  I had even thought to offer you a postponement on the due date for your first payment if needed until after you have been able to sell some cattle, with interest of course.

"However, looking around I don't see much of a herd.  Exactly how many head do you have at the moment?  If you only have a few, you obviously won't be able to make the payments, and we should probably just transfer ownership of the ranch over to the bank without delay."

This last statement of his sent waves of heat through my cheeks.  His attitude was insolent enough without him trying to pressure us into anything.  I glared at him in a way that left little doubt as to my opinion of him.

"Mr. Andrews, I'm sorry, but your drive out here was, in fact, for nothing after all.  That signature is not my brother's.  This document is not a valid mortgage agreement.  Neither you, nor your bank, have any rights to this ranch, so I don't think we have much to discuss."

I tossed the document back at him disdainfully.

Andrews’ fat eyes narrowed in displeasure. "I should have expected as much from you.  You really expect me to believe that you are so familiar with your brother's signature you can recognize a false one instantly?  By implication, you are accusing me of falsifying documents, I must assume.  Let me assure you, your brother did indeed come into my bank and apply for this loan, which was approved.  I handled it personally.

"I resent this play of yours, Talbot...or Halfbreed...or whatever your name is.  Your accusation is nothing more than a cheap trick to try and shirk your duty to pay your brother's debt!"  As Andrews made this final pronouncement, he puffed his chest out in complete assuredness of his position.

"Are you calling me a liar?"

The icy steel in my eyes together with the memory of Tom Logan's recent fate visibly deflated the banker.  I had killed another prominent Cottonwood man recently for calling me a thief, and the fear shining in his eyes showed he remembered that fact all too well.

What shocked me was the realization that I
was
, actually, ready to shoot him.  Why?  I couldn't say.  It had to be more than just having my honor called into question.  I felt a building fury, stoked aflame by every frustration I’d encountered since arriving in Cottonwood Valley.

I had to keep my calm, not just this time, but every time.  I'd escaped death once already.  I couldn't let my temper put me back on the execution block.

Andrews finally got up enough nerve to respond.

"No, no, of course not, Talbot.  That was a very rash thing of me to say.  Please forgive me.  I spoke without thinking, I'm sure you're just mistaken about the signature.

"You really should consider your situation, Talbot.  My bank is a pillar of this community.  I'm well established here.  I'm on the town council, as are most of the other leaders of our town.  The Sheriff is a personal friend of mine.”

"Now, add to that the fact that most everyone in town, including the Sheriff, feels you murdered one of our most beloved ranchers.  You only escaped justice because of a weird fluke.  If you claim this document is not valid, and I say that it is, which one of us do you think everyone's going to believe?"

Andrews had regained most of his confidence now, though he was still wary.

I didn’t care.  When somebody gets my dander up, I have a bad habit of throwing caution to the wind.

"I don't know who they'll believe, but we can sure find out.  Why don't we ride into town right now?  We’ll see the Sheriff together and see what he thinks."

Andrews' mouth fell open at my boldness, but he quickly recovered, shrugging his shoulders resignedly as if to accept.

I turned to go for my horse.  As I went, I saw Will watching me with a kind of odd, reluctant admiration.

***

I rode quietly alongside Andrews and his wagon the whole way to town.  Each of us resented the other’s presence on the same planet, not to mention the same trail.  It’s hard to hide feelings like that.

When we got to Cottonwood, Andrews wanted to stop at the bank for a moment, but I said no, we were going to settle this matter right away, once and for all.  I made a beeline for Sheriff McCraigh’s office and Andrews followed unhappily.

The sheriff looked puzzled to see both of us together and was especially unhappy to see me.  I explained the issue at hand, and the banker told his side of the story, the same tall tale he'd told me. I told McCraigh what I thought of Andrews' story.  The lawman’s face remained neutral.

He asked to see the document in question and studied it closely for several minutes.  I got the sinking feeling I was wasting my time.  This man hated me and had made no effort to hide it.  Why had I thought he would act fairly in this case?

"I'm sorry, Carlton, but if Talbot here disputes this document and says it’s not his brother's signature, it's his word against yours, and I can't honor or enforce your alleged legal claim to the property.  Of course, if you want to appeal my decision, you can take it to court."

Andrews' eyes narrowed. He almost hissed his dissatisfaction.
I
was flabbergasted.  I couldn't believe what I'd just heard.

Silence hung in the air while the banker stewed in this revelation.

After a while, McCraigh said, "Well, if there's nothing else, gentleman, you'll excuse me."

"Thank you, Sheriff."  I tipped my hat, genuinely grateful for his impartiality.  His eyes told me he wished he could have done anything but help me.  Overstaying my welcome was not something I made a habit of, so I headed for the door.  Andrews, however, stayed rooted where he was, staring down the seated officer of the law.

‘
So be it
,’ I thought, ‘
Not my problem anymore
.’

***

"What on earth are you thinking, Harry?  This is a legal document.  You know good and well that just because he doesn't like it, that doesn't make it non-binding."

Sheriff Harris McCraigh swiveled his chair to face the banker squarely.

"What I'm thinking,
Carlton
, is that I recognize the signature on that mortgage, and it's not Talbot's brother's, it's yours.  You did a poor job disguising it.  I've seen enough of your writing to know."

"So what?  I couldn't find the original.  Ben Talbot did take out a mortgage, so I just made a new one.  What do you care anyway?  Don't you hate that man for getting away with murdering Tom?  He murdered your friend, man!"