Star Toter (3 page)

"We've heard of you, of course," Cable went on. "That's natural. Perhaps you know that we buried our sheriff yesterday; it seemed providential that you should arrive as you did."

"You gentlemen, I take it, are a committee to pick a sheriff to fill the vacancy till the next election?" Locke suggested.

"Exactly," Cable agreed. "Whoever we recommend will receive the appointment."

"I don't think I'd be interested in the job," Locke said bluntly. "There'd be strings attached."

"In that, you're quite correct," Cable agreed with equal frankness. "There will be strings attached; that's why we're picking you."

Steele looked at his companion in quick surprise. Locke eyed him with more interest. "At least you're frank about it."

"I can afford to be," Cable replied. "You've probably guessed already that King and I control this country. What we want, we get. And the first rule in running a country is to put on a good show for the populace. The Caesars learned that a long while ago."

"And you think I'd make a good front?"

"We know you would. You've exactly the right reputation, and plenty of ability."

Steele was watching, smoking furiously, but saying nothing. Locke looked from one to the other. "From all I've heard," he said, "there's a lot of lawlessness in this country. It could be stopped by the men who are bosses— if they wanted it stopped. I've heard since coming to town that Sheriff Cassell was killed because he was trying to clean things up."

"Score yourself a hundred on that answer, Mr. Locke," Cable agreed smoothly.

Locke's brows twitched. "And if I were marshal or sheriff, I'd run the job the same as I've always run it: to clean the town up. Which, I take it, is what you don't want. So, you see, you've got the wrong man."

"Score fifty on that," Cable murmured. "You're partly right. We don't want the town cleaned up; but we have got the right man."

"You figure you can bribe me?"

"Naturally. Every man has a price." Cable lifted a deprecating hand. "Don't get me wrong. Some won't take money, and you're that sort. But you'll be perfect for the job, running it the way we want it run. And we can match your price."

Locke relaxed, stretching his long legs before him. "This is interesting," he observed.

"I hoped you'd find it so. You see, Locke, I know some things which most people merely think they know about. The public has pretty well forgotten, or chosen to forget, why you left the Wagon Wheel and the Wild Buttes. You've made such a reputation as a two-gun marshal, a town tamer, that you've shed a good bit of reflected glory on your old community. So they've chosen to forget that you left here with your father's curse in your ears, branded a thief who had stolen ten thousand dollars."

Locke tensed, his jaw more rigid. "What about it?" he asked tonelessly.

"Just this. As I say, I happen to know the truth about that—which truth few people even suspect. You shouldered the blame for a theft committed by your brother Ray, who was desperate because he had to pay a gambling debt. You took the blame because your father had a bad heart and any shock was likely to kill him. Any shock, that is, in connection with Ray, who was the apple of his eye and who, in his opinion, could do no wrong. What you did, however, came as no surprise to the old man. Ray had pulled the wool over his eyes until he believed anything bad about you."

Steele had ceased to smoke. Locke slowly straightened, drawing his legs up again. He had supposed that this secret was deep buried; it was amazing to hear it from the lips of such a man as Grant Cable.

"You're a strange man, Locke," Cable went on, and admiration crept into his tones. "I think I've delved until I found out the truth. You're a man. You love your father, despite the shabby way he's treated you, the opinion he has held of you. You not only shouldered the blame, to save his life, but you returned the money, taking every cent you'd been able to make and save to do so. Also, you gave up what was developing into a profitable business in buying and selling cattle. You paid back what you'd never stolen. You left Ray in control, not only of your father, but of the Wagon Wheel, half of which rightfully belongs to you. You left under a stigma and became an exile. You're a fool, but you're quite a man."

Still Locke made no comment. He was somewhat dazed that this should be known, but it was true. Steele was rolling a fresh cigarette with hands which trembled. Cable's cigar had gone out. He lit it again, leaned with instinctive courtesy to hold the match for Steele, and puffed contemplatively.

"You returned, Locke, because you had heard that your father was in a bad way. Finding him still of the same opinion, and in some respects in worse shape than before, you prepared to let sleeping dogs lie and ride out again. Very noble. You did it because you still love the old man."

"And what's that to you—one way or the other?" Locke demanded.

"Just this: it shows your weak point, and Steele and I are the sort of crass materialists who play on weaknesses. Your brother Ray has continued, during the years of your absence, to make a fool of himself. He still holds your father's trust and affection, but your father knows now that Ray isn't the plaster saint he once thought him. In fact, Ray got into a scrape a while back—Steele knows about that, and so do I—and to help him get out, your father killed a man."

Locke's face lost its color. Cable viewed him blandly through the haze of smoke.

"As a killing, it was quite justified and all that sort of thing. Still, it was a killing."

Locke listened without surprise, compelled to believe him. The room was silent for a space. Even Steele was sitting quietly, gripped by the strange recital.

"I had the power to smooth things over, which I did," Cable went on. "But I have signed papers and witnesses to what happened. If I saw fit, by using them, I could watch your father kick on a gallows. All quite legal."

"I haven't done it. As long as you serve as sheriff, and serve as we want you to, he is safe. But only that long!"

Here was checkmate. Locke mulled it over soberly.

"It's rather odd," he mused. "By your own admission, Cable, you're a scoundrel. Yet I have a feeling that if I take you up, your word will be good."

"Every man has his private point of honor," Cable replied quietly. "I'm glad you appreciate that, Locke. As long as you work with us, we'll back you to the limit. Also, you'll get your share of the profits. All these years, you've risked your life for nothing more than a marshal's salary. Isn't it about time that you began to get something worthwhile? Your honesty has never paid off."

That was true, though it scarcely sweetened the pill he was forced to swallow. Locke shrugged.

"Get this," he said. "I'm not doing what you ask because of the money, or because I like your game. I'll string along, but only because I have to. I'll wear your star, but I won't like any part of it."

"At least we understand each other." Cable shrugged. At his nod, Steele opened a drawer of his desk and tossed a shiny object across the room. Cable caught it in mid-air and handed it to Locke. It was a sheriff's star.

"The committee will confirm our choice," he said. "That's just a formality. You're sheriff, and there's a certain amount of cleaning up to be done. The town has gotten rather out of hand lately. Elements from outside the county are trying to horn in, even getting notions about taking over. Those will have to be cleaned out. Here's the key to your office."

Cable waited until Locke had gone, walking like a man not fully awake. Then he looked challengingly at Steele. "Well?"

Steele grinned. "I'll have to give you credit," he confessed. "That's rather a different way to handle a man." He drummed thoughtfully on the desk with long, powerful fingers, the smile changing to a frown.

"Maybe you can figure out this other, too," he went on. "Have you heard the talk that's going around about forming an organization of vigilantes to clean up the town?"

"I've heard it," Cable agreed. "It sounds like a good idea, one that should be encouraged."

"Are you crazy?" Steele reared back in stark amazement. "You know what such a group will be directed against—ourselves."

"That's the second time you've asked me if I was crazy," Cable reminded him in high good-humor. "Of course a bunch of vigilantes will be aimed at us—only they don't know that. Yes, I think the time is ripe for such an organization. Let's work to see that it gets formed, by all means. We will be among the founders, charter members. Could you ask a sweeter set-up?"

Slowly Steele's scowl vanished, to be replaced by a grin. "Old-Timer," he said, "my apologies. You're about as rough-looking as a moose, but those big fellows can slide through a maze of trees as easy as a shadow. So we go along with all the programs for civic improvement and for cleaning up the town. Our membership is a guarantee of our integrity, right? But what about our new sheriff? Doesn't the formation of a vigilance committee more or less reflect on him? It seems to show a lack of faith."

Cable waved his cigar airily. "Not at all. In fact, quite the contrary. We have a new sheriff of the highest ability, of unimpeachable integrity—despite certain things which happened once upon a time. But he has a tough job, more than one man can be expected to handle. Why shouldn't the honest, substantial citizens, who see eye to eye with the law, work to assist him?"

"You should have been a preacher or a politician," Steele commented. "Still, the vigilantes may be rather a hindrance. There's that gold that has to be shipped out. If there's a vigilance committee, they'll insist on guarding their own gold when it goes."

"Of course they will, and what more could we ask? You'll have a share in that shipment, and so will I. We want it protected, so that a robbery doesn't take place. That part will be simple. We'll tell the boys that there will be two shipments, one a dummy. Will it be our fault if they get confused and guard the dummy one?"

"That sounds all right," Steele decided. "Maybe we can work better if we have an in with the vigilantes. Let's see. There should be a matter of fifty thousand dollars in that shipment, eh?"

"At least that much ought to be sent out, though some of the men are so scared that they may want to hang on rather than run the risk of losing it."

"I'll start the word moving in the right places," Steele agreed, and stood up. "But we may be in for trouble later on, when it comes time to take over the claims. If the owners have a strong organization, they'll put up a better fight."

"Sure they will, and we'll fight right along with them," Cable assured him. "We'll even band together on a legal basis, to make sure there can be no claim stealing. Everybody together in an organization to protect the rights of all. Something so big that nobody can buck it."

"I get you." Steele nodded. "Then, one fine morning, most of them will wake up to find that the corporation has control and they're out in the cold. That's really perfect. It lifts the deal outside the scope of highway robbery and into the realm of high finance. Most of them won't even know what's happened to them."

"I think the plan has merit," Cable agreed.

Apparently someone had gone through the sheriff's office before turning it over to him, removing every paper which might prove embarrassing or incriminating. What was left was impersonal, cold.
Just the way I feel
, Locke thought bitterly.

He'd followed a long trail, and as it turned out, there was a noose at the end. Had the noose been for himself, it would not have been so bad. But it was for his father, old and broken; that made a difference.

Locke gave some thought to his new employers. It was a wonder that two such men, ambitious for power, should be working together. It was unlikely that the alliance could last long, but as long as they held together they were practically unbeatable. Clapping on his hat, Locke went back to the street.

Like the office, the atmosphere of the town seemed cramped and stifling. Getting his horse, he headed for open country, swinging off from the road across unfenced land, riding aimlessly. Even that brought no comfort; this was his land, where he had played as a boy, and he was betraying it. He dismounted beneath a clump of evergreens, and it was there that Reta Cable found him when she rode suddenly into sight.

She swerved at sight of him, then pulled up, looking down with parted lips, her eyes smiling. Locke removed his hat.

"I saw you riding—then you dipped out of sight. I followed, for I wanted to say hello and to thank you again for being so helpful last night." The words gushed breathlessly.

"From your looks, which are as fresh and bright as the day, you must be in good shape this morning," Locke returned. "I hope your ankle doesn't trouble you too much?"

"It hurts when I walk, but it's fine when I ride," she assured him. "I think I could get down and sit awhile, if you'd help me, and if I wouldn't disturb you."

He hid a smile at her nïavete, but moved to assist her, holding her for a moment in his arms. She was light, a pleasant burden. Then she was seated beside him, arranging her dress decorously across shapely limbs, indicating her injured ankle.

"See, it's scarcely swollen at all." Her eyes widened. "Oh! You're wearing a star today. That must mean that you're our new sheriff!"

"Your father persuaded me to accept the appointment," Locke agreed.

"Oh, I'll kiss him for that! I think it's just wonderful! You're just the sort of man this country needs."

Having no adequate reply, Locke made none. No whit disconcerted, Reta went on, dreamily now!

"Somehow it seems as if I'd known you for a long time, as if we were old friends. Maybe that's because I've heard so much about you, and because I know your father and brother. I think your father's wonderful."

Locke looked at her with sudden interest. "Do you see him often?"

"Oh, yes. He seems to enjoy talking to me—he gets pretty lonesome these days, now that he can't see and isn't able to move around or do things the way he always has. That's hard on him, for he's really quite well and strong. If it wasn't for his blindness, he'd still be able to ride as well as ever."