Also, it gave an indication of the lengths to which Devitt was prepared to go. Schwabe was a troublemaker, and with the authority of the law behind him he could be a dangerous man. Kesterson had several times informed Bell of Schwabe’s continued purchase of ammunition, that could only mean constant practice with a gun.
Devitt might yet come to the hiring of killers. It had not yet been done, but without doubt this latest choice meant that, although he had not hired a killer, he was not above trying to arrange a killing. Such papers could have been served peaceably by a dozen men, but never by Schwabe. It was a deliberate effort either to have Bell killed or to put him in the position of resisting the Federal law.
“If that injunction is served,” he said slowly, “I’ll have to honor it. I won’t buck the government.” An idea came to him suddenly. “There’s a way of beating this yet.”
He hesitated, thinking. “If Devitt is allowed to use that road, he’ll start cutting timber as soon as he’s on the land. Colleen, how strong is Devitt with your father?”
“He’s lost ground, Clay. Dad did think Jud could do no wrong until he heard that Devitt had ordered Duval and Simmons to attack Garry.”
“What?” Clay caught her arm. “Devitt ordered that attack?”
She looked up, frightened by his expression. “Didn’t you know? He wanted to make you short-handed. Bob Tripp didn’t like it too well, but he passed on the order. They were overheard, and Jud admitted it to me.”
Clay Bell dropped his grip from her arm. “Colleen, if Bert Garry dies I’ll kill Jud Devitt.”
“No—no, Clay! That will only make matters worse.”
They had reached the door of the McClean home. A light burned in the office; another, a dim light, in Garry’s room.
A thought came to Clay. It was an idea that had come to him a few minutes before, but had been lost when he heard that Devitt had ordered the attack on Garry. He turned the idea over in his mind now.
“Is your father at the hotel?”
“Yes, but be careful. The saloon is filled with lumberjacks.”
He watched her go into the house, then turned abruptly and went back down the street. As he walked, his eyes and ears alert for trouble, he thought of what he planned. It looked good, it looked very good.
Judge Riley sat over coffee and cigars with Sam Tinker in the hotel dining room. Clay stepped into the door and looked quickly around. There was no one else in sight. Loud voices came from the saloon beyond the swinging doors that divided it from the lobby. Clay crossed the lobby, entered the dining room and joined the two men at the table.
“Judge, you’ve issued an injunction that will allow Devitt to use the old stage road, is that right? Until this case is settled?” Riley nodded, waiting.
“All right, that’s fair enough. Now I want an injunction forbidding any cutting of timber until the case is settled. This injunction should also deny any camping along the road.”
“You believe he would begin cutting before the government has made a ruling?”
“Don’t you?”
Tinker hitched himself around in his chair and spoke. “He could have his timber cut before any ruling was passed down. Fact is, he has a man, name of Chase, acting for him in Washington. He could block any settlement of the case, then he could pay a modest sum in damages if the ruling went against him.”
“And I’d have lost my grazing when I need it most.” Riley tasted his coffee. It was too hot. He put the cup down carefully and considered the question. Knowing Jud Devitt, he realized the man had no intentions of waiting for any final decision. He could not afford to wait. Yet if he gave Bell the injunction he wanted, Devitt would be furious. He would do all he could to break the judge. And he was an old man with a daughter to consider.
Then he smiled thoughtfully. It was too easy to judge a case by self-interest. Too easy, and wrong. What Clay Bell asked was reasonable and right. It would prevent Devitt from cutting timber he had no right to cut, anyway.
It was Sam Tinker who decided him. “Might prevent bloodshed,” Sam said, stoking his pipe. “Schwabe would attempt to enforce that injunction for Devitt. This new move would stop them cold. Schwabe would kill Clay if he could do it under cover of the law—but he would not go against the law itself. I’ll gamble on it.”
Judge Riley tried his coffee again. It was black, hot, and strong. He drank, then put down his cup. “I’ll grant your injunction. I’ll issue it tonight.”
“Good!” Clay came to his feet. Then he hesitated for a moment. “Judge, when this is over, I’d like your permission to speak to your daughter.”
Judge Riley looked up sharply. He measured the man before him, the strong, clean-cut features, the bronzed face and the quiet eyes. Yes—yes, of course.
He nodded, “Young man, you’ve my permission, for what it’s worth. Colleen has been taught to make her own decisions.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Clay Bell turned and went out. Riley stared after him. “These young people! I—Sam, you make your coffee too blasted hot!”
Stag Harvey was loafing on the steps when Bell came out. Clay paused, studying him.
“Still around, Stag?”
The man’s slow smile was noncommittal. “Yeah, still here.”
“You might as well drift. This trouble’s over.”
“Don’t make any bets.”
Jack Kilburn came out of the saloon. “Stag—we got business.”
Harvey turned away. ” ‘By, Clay. Be seein’ you!”
Bell watched them go, then turned toward his horse. All he wanted now was to get out of town. Riley would issue his injunction, and Schwabe, bully though he was, would be up against a stacked deck. They would allow free passage, and to avoid trouble, he, Clay Bell, would remain carefully out of sight. Then Schwabe would have to protect the trees himself. He wouldn’t like it, but he would do it. Schwabe might be many things, but he had a wholesome respect for the law.
Boot heels sounded on the walk, and Bell drew back into a doorway. A fast-walking man was coming toward him. And the man was angry. He could tell by the sound of those heels.
He stood very still and watched the man pass. It was Jud Devitt. Had he reached out a hand he could have touched him.
Unknown to Bell, Jud Devitt had just had the final blow administered to his ego. He had been told, not too gently, where he could go. Told by a blonde named Randy Ashton, a blonde whom Devitt had invited to Tinkersville and who he believed would prove sufficiently pliable and willing. Faced with an abrupt ultimatum she had proved anything but easy, and had, with considerable dignity, ordered him to leave. As he turned away a rider had dismounted at the door.
Angry words flooded to Devitt’s lips and he turned abruptly, jerking open the door. Before he could get out a word, a soft voice, yet one edged with a chill quality he did not mistake, said, “You was just leavin’, wasn’t you?”
The tall young man was a blond cowhand, the one who had grinned so impudently the day in the street when Bell laid down his quiet challenge. Beside himself with fury, Devitt was about to speak, and then he saw there was no impudence in the cowpuncher’s eyes, and that the man’s hand rested on the butt of his gun.
Without a word, Devitt turned and went down the steps. He did not glance back, but he knew the man was waiting there, making sure that he left. Filled with fury and humiliation, Jud Devitt was in no condition to notice anyone. He walked past Clay Bell and headed for the Tinker House.
Almost at the hotel a man stepped from the shadows. He stepped directly into Devitt’s path.
“Mr. Devitt? Maybe we could talk business now.”
Clay Bell saw the man, and he heard the words. But he did not recognize the man, who stood in partial darkness, nor did he recognize the voice.
Devitt’s voice came, after momentary hesitation. “Yes, come along.”
Bell walked to his horse and stepped into the leather. It was time he returned to the ranch, but he sat there, the thoughts churning in his head. He had measured the anger and fury in Devitt just now, and he knew the man in this frame of mind was capable of any sort of violence. He couldn’t stop Devitt from getting on his land, for the injunction had already been processed. But his move to stop Devitt from logging until the courts decided the issue was an effective legal counteraction. The only thing, Clay knew, was that when Devitt found out about it anything might happen.