Dolan chuckled. “It’s a desperate resort, but it may come to that.” He got up.
“Nevertheless, I’m your friend.”
The 4T, or as it was called by its own people, the Forty, had established headquarters east of town. Tetlow sat by the wagon with his three sons, Phineas, Andy and Ben. Jared had been talking of his dead son. “I’ll find that man!” he promised. “I’ll see him die!”
“Dad,” Ben said quietly, “why hunt trouble? You know how the kid was. He was always on the prod. I don’t blame anybody but the kid himself.” Tetlow’s eyes flamed. “He was your brother, wasn’t he?” Dee Havalik squatted across from Tetlow. The older man wasted no time. With a stick he traced a crude map in the dust. “Carson runs cattle in Brushy Basin and east. He’s got a small lake that holds through the dry spell. We’ll go see him about sellin’ out.”
He looked up. “Dee, you’re to come. Andy will stay with the cattle. We’ll take Phin, Ben and two hands. Bring Cruz an’ Stilwell. We’ll go see this Carson.” Reluctantly, although he knew better than to object, Ben mounted his sorrel and followed the others. They rode swiftly until they drew up before the door of the small adobe house. A man of fifty came from the house wiping his hands on a handkerchief. “Light an’ set, folks!” he invited. “Just got grub on, but there’s some extry an’ I can make more!”
“How much you want for this place?” Tetlow said abruptly. Carson blinked. “This here?” He shook his head, smiling. “Why, I like it here. I don’t aim to sell. This here’s the first home I ever had. I got me a few head of cattle an’—“ “How much?” Tetlow repeated brusquely. “Speak up, man! I’ve no time to waste!” Carson’s face stiffened, then his eyes grew wary as he looked from one to the other. “So that’s the way of it? I wondered what yuh figured on doin’ with that big herd. Well, I ain’t sellin’. That’s all there is to it.” “I’ll give you a thousand dollars,” Tetlow replied shortly. “Take it an’ a horse an’ git!”
“You’re crazy!” Carson was angry now. “Why, I’m runnin’ four hundred head o’ fat stock! I got seven thousand acres o’ land under my own use an’ more to come! A thousand dollars? You’re crazy!”
The men said nothing and there was absolute silence for the space of two minutes. Then Carson drew a step back, then another. He was afraid now, seeing the stern faces of these men. “One more chance,” Tetlow said, “you get a thousand dollars an’ a horse. Then you get clear out of the country.” “Go to hell!” Carson shouted. He wheeled and sprang for the door. A gun bellowed and he sprawled across the doorstep, his fingers grasping at the floor as if trying to drag himself inside.
“You seen it,” Havalik’s voice was casual, “he reached for a gun.” Ben’s face was pale. He looked from his father to his brothers but their faces were blank, approving.
“Phin,” Tetlow suggested, “you ride to town. Look up that Macy feller an’ tell him what happened. Get on with it, now. We’ll ride on over to Carpenter’s place.”
Phin swung his horse around and went off at a fast trot. With Jared Tetlow and Havalik in the lead, the rest of them took off for the Carpenter place. It was all of an hour’s ride, and when they rode up to the door, Carpenter was walking up to the house with a bucket of milk.
Tetlow drew up, waving a hand around him. “What you want for this place? I’m buyin’ land today.”
Carpenter looked carefully at the riders and something in their eyes warned him. “Why, I don’t know,” he said cautiously, “I haven’t thought about sellin’,” “Think about it then,” Tetlow replied, “I need range and lots of it.” Carpenter hesitated. These riders had come from Carson’s place and only a few hours ago he had been talking to Carson. The older man had been telling him of what he planned to do with his place, and both men had discussed the big herd of cattle and the rumor that more cattle were coming. “What did Carson do?” Carpenter asked curiously. “Have you been over there?”
“Just came from there,” Havalik offered. “We’ll have that place, all right.”
“Carson won’t sell.” Carpenter was positive. “We talked some last night.” “No,” Tetlow agreed, “he won’t sell. He won’t have to. His place has been let go.”
“Let go?” Carpenter was stunned. His eyes went from one to the other. Behind him he heard a sound inside the house, and he knew that sound. His wife was taking the scatter gun off the nails on the wall.
“Yeah, Carson won’t be around any more. Cantankerous ol’ cuss got right mean when we offered to buy him out. He grabbed for a gun. Well, what could we do?” Carpenter looked at them, from one cold face to the other. “I see,” he said slowly. “And if I don’t sell? What happens then?” Tetlow’s horse stepped forward. “You’ll sell,” he said coldly. “What have you got here?” he sneered. “A little one-horse spread! Why, I’ve got thousands of cattle! I need all this range! You’ll just putter along an’ waste it! I’ll put it to good use. I’ll give you a thousand dollars an’ you can keep your buckboard an’ a team to fetch you an’ your wife away from here.” “Free,” the woman’s voice spoke from the window of the cabin, “don’t bother to talk to ‘em any more. We got to strain that milk. Come on inside.” “You stay where you are!” Tetlow shouted, growing angry. “I ain’t through with you!”
“You’re through here,” the woman’s voice was cold, “this here’s a Colt revolvin’ scatter gun. She will fire four times. I reckon that’s enough for all of you. Now ride off! You lift a hand to my man an’ I’ll start shootin!” Jared Tetlow stiffened, his face flooding with angry blood. “Easy, Dad!” It was Ben who spoke. “She means it.”
“That’s right,” Havalik added, “she ain’t foolin’ an’ at this range she could kill us all.”
Tetlow cooled. That was right, of course. Anyway, they had done enough killing for one day. “All right!” he said crisply. “We’re ridin’! But you make up your minds! We want this place!”
Wheeling, they rode away from the Carpenter place and back toward their own camp. “Dad,” Ben interposed, “we’d better sit quiet until we see how the sheriff takes this Carson affair.”
Tetlow snorted. “You saw him in the street! The man’s gun-handy, all right, but we can talk to him! I know how to handle that sort!” “That wasn’t the sheriff, though,” Ben persisted. “Wasn’t the sheriff?” Tetlow was growing angrier by the minute. Why did this son of his have to—“What do you mean? He wasn’t the sheriff? You saw his badge, didn’t you?”
“He was the town marshal, Dad. Not the sheriff. I hear the sheriff is a different sort, a very different sort.”
Jared Tetlow scowled, but suddenly he was worried. Lott not the sheriff! He had taken for granted once he had seen the man that there was no need to worry. If the man couldn’t be frightened he could be bought. Or enlisted. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he demanded. “You talk enough!” “I started to tell you once, an’ you wouldn’t listen,” Ben replied. “You never listen to me, an’ it’s time you did.”
His father stared at him in amazement. “Since when did I take orders from a milk sop?” he demanded. “You keep a still tongue in your head! I can make up my own mind!”
“All right,” Ben replied shortly, “see if you can make up the sheriff’s!” Wheeling his horse he rode rapidly off through the junipers. Jared Tetlow stared after him, scowling, his face black with the anger that always mounted quickly at any suggestion of resistance among his own people. Nobody said anything, and the hands did not look at each other. They pushed on, riding swiftly toward the headquarters wagons.
Ben drew up when he was safely away from the cavalcade and watched them go. Where was all this going to lead? Did his father think everybody would cringe before him? That he could rule everyone with whom he came in contact? And that Dee Havalik! The man gave Ben the creeps.
Turning his sorrel, he rode on into town and left his horse at the hitch rail. He saw no sign of Phin anywhere. Either he had not yet found the sheriff or they had both started for the ranch. Suddenly recalling that the hotel was reported to have an excellent chef, he went up the steps and entered. There were only two people in the cafe. A slender, attractive girl in a gray suit, and a man. The man sat alone at a table facing the door. He wore a gray flannel shirt with a black silk neckerchief, black jeans, and he wore two guns tied low down on his thighs. His black, flat-crowned hat was on a hook nearby. As Ben entered, the man looked up, measuring him with careful eyes. Ben Tetlow never forgot that glance. It had in it something wary and unfathomable. It was the expression of a man who knew what it meant to command. His eyes went again to the tall girl. She was more than attractive, she was really lovely. Suddenly, more than anything else in the world, he wanted to know her.