Where the Long Grass Blows (1976) (12 page)

"Before it's gone very far, we should know some of the answers,"

From the rim of the mesa they watched the CR and Box n riders gathering cattle and starting them toward the roundup grounds.

The weather was hot and dry and dust rose in clouds. The cattle left the coolness and ample water of the Springs range with reluctance. As always it gave Canavan a thrill just to see the big herd bunched and moving. Even as a boy, when first he ran with the wild bunch, he had loved watching the big herds move, loved hearing the wild yells of the cowhands and the sudden dashes of the riders after bunch quitters who wanted to head back to the rough country.

Regardless of their sympathies, there were good cattlemen on both sides and they worked hard, getting the wild stock out of the breaks and down on the flat to the sound of yells, good-natured argument and the usual joking. There would be several thousand head of cattle to be handled, and the roundup would move down-range before it was completed.

Yet as the day wore on, there was a change. A sort of tenseness seemed to develop, and the riders tended to bunch with others working from the same ranch. It was coming, and the time had come to ride down there.

Mabry came up beside him. "Canavan? You want me to rep for you? Or will you tackle it yourself?"

Canavan considered for a moment. "We'll both go down, but we'll go loaded for bear."

"If a fight starts, what do we do?"

"Unless they start it with us, just pull out fast.

We've no reason to fight at this point, but if we're down there somebody is liable to take a shot at us just for luck.

"Then when they find out that I've got cattle on this range, all hell is apt to break loose. So far they have me pegged as kind of an innocent bystander, but once they find I've moved in with cattle they will feel different."

"You may need help."

"Not yet. I don't want anybody killed.

If the fight starts, just pull out fast."

It was daybreak on the second day that they rode down to join the working crew. Dixie was there, sitting her horse near Tom. "I may need some extra horses," Canavan said, "if I could borrow a few head ...?"

"Sure," Tom said. "If you don't mind rough stock.

Most of our lads have their own horses ... I mean, the ones they prefer to ride. But I've got about sixty head corraled over in a box canyon back of our place. You can use any of them you like."

"I'll pick up about a dozen, if it's all right with you, and return them when the roundup is over."

Dixie glanced at him, but said nothing. He sat his horse, watching the work go forward. "Do you think there will be trouble?" she asked.

"Yes."

"You believe it was planned that way, don't you?"

"It was." He paused. "You may know more about it than I, and certainly you know more about the people involved. I don't want it to happen, although I've no regard for either Pogue or Reynolds.

They've been riding for a fall, and this could be it."

"And what of you?"

"I want to be here ... where you are."

She flushed. "Bill ... please. You mustn't talk that way. There's too much ... well, there are things happening that you don't understand. I don't want you killed."

"My kind don't kill very easy, Dixie, and I've got plans. I'll need more men, but I have two of the best."

Walt Pogue rode toward them. "Just seen Mabry. Is he workin' with you? I need a couple of good men and I'll pay top wages."

"No, thanks. I've come to rep for my brand."

Pogue's head bent forward like an old range bull about to charge. "Did you say ... your brand?"

"That's right," Canavan's face was innocent. "The Gallow's Frame."

The rancher reined his horse around so sharply that Canavan winced at the effect on the horse's mouth. "Who said you could run cattle on this range?"

Reynolds had come up in time to overhear. He looked as astonished and irritated as Pogue.

"It's government range," Canavan replied quietly, "and one man has as much right as the next."

"You'll find some difference of opinion on that!"

Pogue said angrily. "This range is overcrowded as it is!"

"Tell that to Star Levitt."

They glared at him, yet neither spoke. The subject of Star Levitt was obviously not one they were prepared to cope with at the moment. It was Reynolds who finally replied. "He'll be dealt with. And from what I hear somebody is doing some fancy work with a runnin' iron."

Bill Canavan hooked his leg around the saddle horn. "Reynolds," he said gently, "you and Pogue better take a good, long look at those altered brands before you jump anybody. The first thing you will see is that whoever did it didn't give a damn whether you knew it or not. He's throwin' it right in your face, just begging you to start something."

"I'll start something!" Reynolds flared. "Wait until this roundup is over."

"You throwin' that at me?" Pogue demanded.

Fury was building up in the man, and as much of frustration as anger. Too much was happening, and he wanted to strike out in all directions, in any direction.

"You two ought to get down off your horses and fight it out," Canavan suggested. "Just get it out of your systems. Then maybe you can tackle your big problem. Or are you both afraid of Levitt?

He's the one who's movin' in on you, and he doesn't even bother to bring his own cows, he just rebrands yours."

Canavan chuckled and Reynolds's face flamed.

"We might get together, Walt an' me, just long enough to get shut of you!"

"Take first things first," Canavan said quietly.

"You two are your own worst enemies, and next to yourselves is Star Levitt and his crowd.

"As for me, if you want some good advice, just leave me alone. I came here to stay. I've got cattle on this range and I intend to keep them there. I didn't ride in here by chance. I came because I knew you were going to kill each other off. I didn't bargain on Levitt doing it for me, but he will ... if you boys don't beat him to it. But when you're all gone, I'll be here. If you want to fight, just start the ball rolling. But when you do, you'd better dig in for a long scrap because you'll get it, and I cut my teeth on range wars.

If you want trouble, just cut loose your dogs!"

He dropped his leg, kicked his toe back into the stirrup, turned the Appaloosa and rode away.

Pogue glared at Mabry. "What's happening, Mabry?

You've always been a good man."

"You listen to him, Walt. That's a mucho malo hombre, if you'll take it from me. He's got no reason to like either of you, but he's got other things on his mind now. If you want to know where I stand, it's right beside him, me and Roily Burt"

"Burt?" Pogue's face hardened. "Where is that murderin' son?"

Mabry looked around, his hand on the cantle of his saddle. "Pogue, why don't you find out why two of your men were gunnin' for him? I'll bet a paint pony you don't know! And Charlie, why don't you find out why none of your boys were in town to stand beside him? Why don't you ask your nephew why he sent him into town in the first place?"

"What's that? What're you gettin at?"

Reynolds demanded.

Mabry was riding away, and the older man stared after him. And for the first time he felt doubt as well as fear. What was happening? What did he mean by suggesting that he ask his nephew Mabry rode to where Canavan sat his horse.

"Gave "em something to worry over," he said cheerfully, and explained.

"That should do it. Their ears will be buzzing for a week ... if they live that long." He gestured toward the cattle. "Some nice stock here, Mabry."

"How many head have you got out there?" Mabry asked.

"Not many. Couple of dozen, I'd guess. I wanted them to see the brand, that's all."

"What do we do now, Bill? Do we just wait?"

Canavan considered that. So far all had gone about as expected, yet he knew that a bullet ... just one ... could end it all. He was playing in a deadly game, but for high stakes.

"We'll sit tight now." He hesitated a moment and then said, "Mabry, I've got them cold-decked.

I've got them whipped before they start, if I can just get out of this with a whole skin. I can't tell you what I've done, because I don't want to even think about it for fear they'll find out"

"What happens if they do? When they do?"

"There's only one thing they can do. They'll have to kill me. There won't be one of them against me, Mabry, it will be everyone of them."

"Do you think Pogue and Reynolds can get through this roundup without a fight?"

"I doubt it. They're both too bullheaded, and there's hard feelings among their riders. Somebody will blow his top, and when he does there will be shooting."

Bill Canavan looked across the valley watching the familiar scene and feeling some of the old excitement within him. This was the roundup, usually the hardest work any cowhand had, although not necessarily the longest hours. His own longest hours had been on cattle drives, holding cattle after a stampede when he had already spent hours rounding them up.

Usually the hands cussed the roundup, but they loved it, too. Hot and dusty, filled with danger from kicking hoofs and menacing horns or plunging horses, but filled with good fellowship, too, and comradely fun.

He watched the waving sea of horns where the gather was coming together. Every once in a while they would start to move out for somewhere, but a watching cowhand would turn them back again, and at such times there would be a ripple of movement along the sea of horns.

At the branding pens the sharp line of demarcation was broken by the business of the day, but otherwise the CR and the Box n held themselves apart.

Because of this, or from wariness of what might happen, the W riders did likewise.

Star Levitt, astride a magnificent white horse, was everywhere to be seen. For a time he was at the branding pens watching the action there, and then he was circling the holding herd where the cattle waited to be branded. Sighting Canavan and Mabry, he rode over to where they sat their horses, watching.

Canavan saw Mabry's face as Levitt started toward them. There was a cold, watchful quality about it, the sort of expression a man might have when he spotted a rattler approaching his bed at night.

"How are you, Canavan?" There was no indication in his manner that he had ever experienced the events that had taken place in the Bit and Bridle.

He was clean shaven as always, and as always he was immaculate. The dust of the roundup seemed not to have touched him.

Mabry, glancing at the two men, was struck by a striking similarity between them. Yet there was a subtle difference that drew him toward Canavan.

Both were big men, yet Levitt was both taller and heavier, and in the faces of both men there was strength and a certain assurance that set them apart.

Canavan's manner carried a certain casual confidence that Levitt also had, but in a more brittle-seeming style than the rock-hard look that Canavan wore.

They were men shaped by nature to be enemies, two strong men with their faces turned in the same direction, yet guided by wholly different viewpoints and ruled by different standards. The one ruthless and relentless, prepared to take any advantage, and to stop at nothing. The other, hard, toughened by range wars and the brutally hard work of the western country, accustomed to the rough-handed fair play of the plains, yet equally relentless. It would be something to see, Mabry thought, if ever they came together in physical combat.

"Nice stock," Canavan commented casually. "You got many cows here?"

"Quite a few. I hear you're running the Gallow's Frame brand?"

"That's right."

"Strange that I hadn't heard of any cattle coming into the country lately. Did you pick yours up on the range?"

At many a time and in many a place, such a question could have led to shooting, but after his equally insulting comments in the saloon, they were not important. These two knew their time was coming and neither was in a hurry. Levitt was completely, superbly confident, while Canavan had the assurance of a man who has faced many antagonists under many circumstances and always emerged a winner.

Or usually. "No, I didn't need to. Your pattern suits you, mine suits me. My cattle were already here."

The remark drew the response he expected.

"That's impossible! I know every brand that runs on this range, and there were only four until I moved in."

Canavan smiled enigmatically, knowing both the smile and the manner would irritate Levitt.

"Star," he said, "you're a man who figures he's right smart, a whole lot smarter than other folks round and about.

And you might be really smart if you didn't believe other people were so dumb.

"A man with your viewpoint doesn't have a chance to win, for that reason. You believe you're so much smarter than the opposition. You think everybody else but you is stupid as a month-old calf, so you ride into everything sure that everything will turn out right for you. You've the same fatal flaw in your character as most crooks, because they are incurable optimists.