The Red River Ring (10 page)

Chapter XV

The lamps were still lit in the house when Reese rode into the ranch yard. Temple, Pommel and Cap Morgan were sitting at the table drinking coffee. Reese entered the house without knocking.

“What are you doing here?” Temple asked. “I thought you were staying with the women.”

Reese cut his eyes to Pommel and did not look away. “Someone shot Fritz Blomberg in the back of the head tonight and the sheriff is coming to arrest you.”

“When was Fritz shot?”

“Sometime this evening.”

“I've been with Temple since around four. I couldn't have done it.”

“I know that. Mom knows that. She's afraid that you will pull your guns rather than talk to the sheriff.”

Pommel smiled. “Women, they always make a case of things. I've got no reason to shoot it out with the sheriff.”

“I know the truth. I know that you're Pommel McMurphy,” Reese said, his voice filled with uncertainty.

“Good, I don't like the lies,” Pommel said. “Sit down.”

Pommel's indifferent reaction surprised Reese. He waited a moment before speaking. “The sheriff and his posse aren't three miles behind me.”

“Have a cup of coffee. You've all had a long ride for nothing.”

“I'll fix a fresh pot,” Cap Morgan said.

“Have you seen Pac?” Reese said as he pulled a chair.

“No, we were just talking about that. I figure he must have ridden off to see Pearson's daughter,” Temple said.

“He was in Silverton when Fritz was shot,” Reese said.

“You don't think he shot Fritz?” Temple asked.

“He might have.”

“Why?”

“Someone shot Fritz because of something I said,” Pommel said.

“What do you mean?”

“Somehow Fritz knew what I had said to Nab Colredge in Pampa. The only person who could have told him must have been in contact with the Ring. I've suspected that Fritz was in with the Ring. It looks like I was wrong.”

“Or right,” Temple said. “He could have been shot to keep him quiet. I've thought it odd how Fritz didn't want to take any action against a bunch of rustlers and land grabbers.”

The sound of horses and riders assembling in the yard drew their attention.

“They're here,” Pommel said. “I better go talk to them.”

“No, you wait here,” Temple said. “I'll bring the sheriff in here. I don't want you stepping into a stacked deck like that on a dark night.”

“Hello to the house!” Dan Smith called.

“We know you're there, sheriff.” Temple answered. “Why don't you come in?”

“Why don't you come out?”

“You come in and you have our word that you'll be safe.”

“Alright, but I'm bringing John Fellows with me.”

“Come ahead.” Temple turned to the others. “Why would John ride out here with a posse? He hates horses.”

Pommel drew his revolver and placed it on the table butt away. “I don't want no trigger happy sheriff going off. If my gun's out there, he'll be more obliging.”

Temple opened the door. Sheriff Dan Smith, a portly man in a business suit, stepped through followed by John Fellows.

“I'm here to investigate the killing of Fritz Blomberg,” Smith said. “I want to talk to Pommel McMurphy.”

“That's me,” Pommel said. “My gun's on the table.”

“Where you been all day?” Smith asked bluntly.

“I rode into Silverton today. I was back here by four.”

“You got any witnesses?”

“I'm your witness,” Temple said. “I was surprised he got back so quickly and checked by my pocket watch when he rode in.”

“I'm going to have to take you in, McMurphy. I've got questions about that rustler business.”

“No. Ask your questions now.” Pommel said.

“I want to conduct a thorough investigation. I don't want to ask those questions here.”

“Tough. Ask now, show your arrest warrant or hit the trail. I ain't going to no jail today.”

“You will if I say so. I'll guarantee your safety,” Smith said after a nervous pause.

“I'll guarantee my own neck. You worry about yours.”

“Meaning?”

“I figure someone shot old Fritz because he either knew too much or too little. The man that shot him might be riding in your posse. That man is working for the Ring. A man working with the Ring will want you or me dead before the truth comes out. A man working against the Ring is a target for sure. Which are you?”

“I can vouch for him again. I was there. Those were our cattle and the riders were on Quick 5 branded horses,” Temple said.

“That's the problem with you McMurphys,” Smith said. “No live witnesses. All I know is that there are five dead men on the Red and you're to blame.”

McMurphy smiled. “You seen them?”

“No, I've had a complaint sworn.”

“Who?”

“Mr. Fellows.”

“You seen em, Fellows?”

John Fellows shook his head. “No, but I heard what happened.”

“Then no complaint has been filed by anyone who witnessed a killing or has even seen any bodies. Do you have jurisdiction north of the Red that far west?”

“No, I'm just doing my duty to Briscoe County.”

Pommel reached slowly to the table and turned the Remington so the butt was toward him. “Doing your duty to who? The Ring? Fellows? Or are the two the same? If there's any warrants to be sworn, I'd think they would come from Bent or Colredge. But then, they'd have to explain Quick 5 brands on rustler's horses, wouldn't they? If they could get some sheriff to do their work for them that would be just fine though, wouldn't it? Since we've established that I couldn't have killed Blomberg, your business is finished, isn't it?”

Smith eyed the revolver on the table and Pommel's hand. “Yes, I guess you're right.”

“I'd offer you a cup of coffee but I know you'll be wanting to get back and investigate Fritz's murder.”

“Yes, I need to be going,” Smith said awkwardly before leaving the room with Fellows following.

Pommel slowly lifted his revolver. “John Fellows,” he said.

Fellows turned slowly allowing the sheriff to leave the building.

“We've never formally met, have we?” Pommel asked.

“No, I guess we haven't,” Fellows answered uncomfortably.

“What were you trying to accomplish tonight?” Pommel asked.

“I wanted to get Fritz's killer.”

“I wouldn't think you'd want to hang?”

Fellows stood silently, anger in his face.

Pommel cocked the Remington. “I'm on to you, Fellows. If anybody had a reason to shoot Fritz Blomberg, it was you. That telegram you sent today. Where was it headed?”

“I wired Brownswood on some business.”

“I'll check tomorrow. If it isn't just the way you've said, you're a dead man.”

Fellows nervously cut his eyes to Temple then Reese. Their faces were stony and harsh. “Are you going to let him talk to me that way?”

“He's got a point,” Temple answered. “How did Fritz know about Pommel's threats to Colredge?”

Fellows smirked. “After all I've done for you.”

“For us or to us?” Temple asked.

Fellows shook his head and left the room.

Reese rose from his chair. “I've got to go. There's no one with the women. I'm going back with the sheriff.”

“I don't want you riding back with them alone,” Pommel said. “I'll go with you after they leave.”

“Are you going to check on that telegram?” Temple asked.

“I'm at least going to try to find out what it said.”

“And if it was what you think, are you planning on shooting John?”

Pommel shook his head. “No, I probably won't have to. I figure if we've nailed John right, he'll either vamoose or try to do away with me before I get to that office.”

“And if he does neither?”

“Then we're back to square one. All we'll have is suspicions with no proof.”

“It's getting pretty dicey, isn't it?”

“The problem is that the Ring has us running in circles, keeping us off balance. Our best bet would be to just clean house.”

“I think that is what Fritz was afraid of all along,” Temple said. “In a straight shoot-out we're hopelessly outgunned.”

“Except for one thing you boys should have learned long ago,” Pommel said. “Cut off a snake's head and the rest of the snake is harmless.”

“And where is the head?”

Pommel smiled. “There's the rub. I used to think it was Black Tom Bent and Nab Colredge. Now I don't know. It could be right here at home. One thing I know for sure, it wasn't Fritz Blomberg.”

Chapter XVI

I

A substantial crowd was present at Fritz Blomberg's burial. All the McMurphys were present and Mary Fellows acted in place of a family representative since Fritz had none of his own. John Fellows, Temple, Pac, Reese and his family stood by her side. Little was said between them as John Fellows' was decidedly cold toward Temple and Reese. Standing at the back of the mourners was Pommel McMurphy dressed in his traveling suit, wearing his Remington revolver. He did not escape Mary's harsh glare during the services. It was certain that Fellows had told her of the conversation at the ranch and she was angry.

Pommel had not been able to secure a copy of Fellows' telegram despite some unpleasant threats to the telegrapher and John Fellows had made no move against him. For all he knew Fellows was innocent and had done nothing to arouse further suspicion.

The train whistle sounded as the funeral broke up and Pommel went to the station to meet his riders. Temple went with him.

“How's your mother taking all of this?” Pommel asked.

“I'm glad I'm staying at the ranch. Reese told me that it's pretty chilly around the house. John isn't speaking to Reese or me. Reese thought of taking his family back to his own house but Mary would have none of that either. For the present they are staying together.”

“We may be wrong about him. So far he's done nothing to block us.”

“When you think about it, there isn't much he can do. He knows he's being watched, not only by us but by Mom. She may be angry, but you know she's watching him. He'd be pretty dumb to do something now.”

Pommel nodded. “You're right. This might be a good time to make a move. If he is guilty and being so careful, we may be able to move against the Ring without them being warned.”

“Right now all I want to do is gather some steers and get my hands on some cash. With Fritz dead the bank will be reorganized and I want some cash reserves in case any notes are called.”

“If my men arrive today, we should be able to start a roundup this afternoon.”

“Sounds good to me.”

As they neared the station, a tall black cowboy stepped from the door and placed his saddle and Winchester on the landing. He was just as Pommel had described him, bearded, low crowned plains hat with the front brim turned up, a purple silk bandana, dark blue bib-front shirt and very dark complexion.

“That must be Ketchum,” Temple said.

“He is,” Pommel said with a smile. “The best damned ramrod in Texas. He's all wrangler from the top of his head to the soles of his feet.”

Ketchum smiled when he recognized Pommel. “My wranglers are getting their saddles and traps. I brought five, Major.”

“Glad you could get here so quick. Sam, this is my oldest son, Temple McMurphy.”

As Temple and Sam Ketchum shook hands, five more black cowboys stepped onto the landing.

“I hope you don't mind, Major. I brought our old crew.”

McMurphy laughed and nodded. “The Gas House Gang, I'll be damned. Temple, this is my old crew from the trail drives, Libby Reeves, Nigger Bill Wiley, Alsy Grimes, Nate Cloud and Champ Riggs. These boys made my last three drives. You won't find better drovers or finer hombres anywhere.”

Pommel went down the line laughing and joking with the wranglers as he shook hands and greeted each.

Pommel's sudden transformation surprised Temple. Not only did he see a sense of relief in Pommel's manner but also each man seemed to genuinely be glad to rejoin their old trail boss as he was greeted.

Sam Ketchum stepped next to Temple as Pommel greeted the men.

“You call him Major?” Temple asked.

“Everyone on the Chisholm Trail calls him Major. It was his rank when the war was over. Your father has a solid reputation among drovers in East Texas.”

“Were you his ramrod on the drives?”

“His ramrod on the drives and his ranch foreman now. Since many white cowboys and even Mexicans won't ride for a black foreman, most of his crew is Negroes. We like working for the Major. He treats us as equals and don't take no guff off'n other outfits. More than once he's backed us when most white men would have just walked away.”

“You ridden for him long?”

“I've been with the Major since I was twelve years old. I walked to Texas from Louisiana after the war. I didn't care what I did but I weren't gonna chop and hoe cotton no more. I ran into the Major as he was pushing a herd to Abilene, Kansas. He put me on as a remuda wrangler and cook's Mary. I've ridden for him ever since.”

“Your horses are waiting at the freight depot,” Pommel said as he pointed out the location. “Saddle up and let's ride for Three Circles.”

“Six good wranglers will make a big difference,” Temple said as the men made for the depot.

“These six are worth twelve. This is the best crew I ever worked with.”

“You've been with Sam Ketchum for a while, then?”

“When I first saw Sam he didn't even have a last name that he knew of. Just a raggety, barefoot slave run away from a plantation. We named him after our Negro cook. Old Sam Ketchum thought the world of him. When Old Sam died, he stayed with me and took his name. If he wasn't a Negro, he'd be ramrodding any outfit he wanted to ride for.”

Temple paused as he caught a glimpse of Pac's pinto passing by an alley. “There goes Pac. He won't even stay to ride out with the rest of us.”

“What's this girl like that he's seeing?” Pommel asked.

“I don't really know her. Her old man is nothing but white trash. There's just him and the girl living on a hard scrabble dirt farm north of the Red. He runs several hundred wild hogs in those hills but other than that, I don't know what he exists on. Most of the time he don't smell much better than his pigs.”

“Is he tied in with Bent or Colredge?”

“I doubt if they would have anything to do with him. Old Jesse is too worthless to fart.”

The wranglers were saddling their mounts and strapping on leggings when Pommel and Temple met them with their horses.

“I guess I should have said something earlier,” Pommel said. “There will probably be some gunplay involved with this drive and things could get pretty rough.”

The wranglers didn't answer acting as if there was more information coming.

“I wanted you to know that it will probably be dangerous. If any man doesn't want to be a part of this they'll be no hard feelings and I'll pay your wages for coming out.”

Again the wranglers did not answer.

“I thought you ought to know.”

Several nodded before going on with their saddling.

Temple smiled and shook his head. “Do they always bitch so much?” he asked.

“Yeah, they're pretty hard to handle,” Pommel answered with a smile.

Sam Ketchum swung into his saddle. “I guess we're ready to go, Major.”

Pommel waited until all the men were in their saddles. “I'm sure glad you boys are here,” he said.

Sam turned and examined the faces of his riders. “We're glad to be here, Major,” he said. The other men nodded and voiced quiet support.

It occurred to Temple that he had never seen such a well-built, trail wise group of men before. Every man was healthy, athletic and decked out in some of the finest working cowboy rigs he had ever seen. Were these men not Negroes, he thought, they would probably be the best trail crew he had ever seen assembled. He then realized that the race card had nothing to do with it.

II

Pac threw some pebbles against Sulky's bedroom window and waited for a reaction. When she came to the window he motioned to her that he would be waiting in the barn.

She nodded and blew him a kiss.

Pac made his way to the barn and whistled softly as he lit a lantern and loosened the girth of his pinto's saddle.

“I've been waiting for you, boy,” Tom Bent said softly from the dark of the loft. “You're a day later than I figured.”

“We had to bury old Fritz. The funeral put a hitch in my schedule.”

“Yeah, too bad about old Fritz. I guess he got a little too smart for his own good.”

“What do you need? I'm going to have Sulky out here pretty quick with nothing but poking on her brain.”

“Have you given my offer much thought?”

“Yep, I have. I was going to take you up on it, but then old Fritz ended up with a bullet in his brain pan and I decided that it might be just a little difficult to trust you boys.”

“One has nothing to do with the other. You're different. I wouldn't double cross my own flesh and blood.”

“That's part of the problem. I'd think your own flesh and blood could expect more out of this deal than a few dollars and a ramrod's job.”

A wisp of cigarette smoke drifted from the dark loft. “What would it take?”

“I'd think your own flesh and blood could expect a full share of Three Circles with the provision that it would be all his after you were gone.”

“That's a steep price.”

“You're asking me to betray my own brothers.”

“Your half brothers.”

“Just the same, they're
my
flesh and blood. Mom's going to have a problem with it for sure. I don't know that she'll ever have anymore to do with me.”

“Your ma brought this on herself. She drove me from the place when she found out Pommel was still alive. She never told she was pregnant with my child. She betrayed both of us. Robbed me of my rightful son and you of your birthright.”

“Yes, she did. But that don't make it any easier to ruin my own half-brothers. What's she going to do when she finds out that her own husband and son double crossed her?”

“The same thing I had to do when I learned the truth about you. Choke it down. You and John will be rich men when this is over. What difference should it make if Temple and Reese are ruined? They're nothing to you. You've had to take they're leavings your whole life.”

Pac nodded and spoke softly. “Yes, I have. All my life.”

“Well, what do you say?”

“All right, I'm in. Keep an outrider camped at Fire Canyon. When I know that the herd's assembled and where, I'll meet him after dark.”

“Good. You won't regret this.”

“Sure. Listen, she's going to be here soon and I don't want you up there watching.”

“I'll slip out the back. Don't worry.”

Sulky slipped through the door and immediately threw off her nightgown. “Hello, Honey. You're late.”

“Too late?” Pac asked.

“Naw, never too late. Come on Pac, shuck them drawers and do me.”

As Pac laid her in the straw, she looked to the loft behind his head and saw Tom Bent step into the light. She winked and nodded when she saw him put her fifty dollars in a can by the brace pole.

“Oh, Pac, just think when this is over and we can be together every night.” She moaned as she watched Tom for a reaction.

Black Tom Bent chuckled silently and shook his head.

Sulky smiled wickedly and gave out a shrill giggle.