“He’ll be along soon, and when he does you get him alone if you’re of a mind to, and ask him, hisself. But not where anybody can hear you.” “Uncle Voyle? I don’t believe he’ll come tonight. I think there has been trouble. Call it intuition, whatever you wish. I have a feeling.” Her uncle shifted his feet. “Now, don’t you be gettin” scared,” he said. “There’s nothing-was “Yes, there is.” She paused. “Uncle Voyle, when we were coming up from Flagstaff, we were followed.” “Followed?” He was startled.
“By a man who came out of a draw from the east.
He kept back out of sight most of the time, like he did not wish to be seen, but he was following us. Just before we came into Red Wall he disappeared.” Voyle Ragan was worried. The fact that Ben Curry owned the V-Bar was a well-kept secret, and Voyle knew Ben had prevented any raiding of ranches close to the hideout in Toadstool Canyon. His argument had been simple. Leave the nearby ranches alone and they would be friendly in time of need. Yet Voyle had never trusted Curry’s leadership. Sooner or later some of the outlaws would break loose and go to raiding on their own. Who would be scouting the place? The law?
There was none within miles, and no breath of suspicion invited their interest. Outlaws? What would be more likely, with cattle already gathered and ready for moving?
“Don’t scare your sister or your mother with this, Dru. You can use your rifle, so keep it handy.
I’ll have a talk with the boys.” He paused. “Just where did you see that rider?” He listened to her description, recognizing the area at once. “Tomorrow I’ll have a look,” he told her.
“You be careful,” she said. Then she changed the subject. “Uncle Voyie? Did you ever hear of a cowboy named Mike Bastian?” Voyle Ragan was glad of the darkness. “Can’t say I have,” he said cautiously. “What about him?” “We met him on the way up here. In fact, it was he who helped us get a rig to bring us in after we left the stage. his “Most any western man would have helped you.” “I know, but it was he who helped, and-there was something about him-was “I bet I know,” Voyle said, amused. “He was probably young and good looking.” She laughed. “He was that, too, but it was the way he moved. Like a big cat. But like somebody else, too. I can’t think who he reminded me of, but somebody I know very well.” “Mike Bastian? I’ll remember the name.
He tell you what he did?” “No. No, I don’t believe he did. I thought he might be a cowboy, or even a hunter. He was wearing buckskins. You know, like the Indians do.” She paused again, then trying to keep her tone casual she said, “He asked if he could come calling.” Voyle Ragan chuckled. “And I’ll bet you said yes.” It was her turn to laugh. “Of course. Could I be less than hospitable? After all, this is the westl” After she had gone inside Voyle Ragan walked to the bunkhouse. Two of the hands were already asleep or pretending to be. The other had one boot off and one on. “You,” Voyle said to him, “put that other boot back on. You’re taking the first watch.” “Watch? For what?” “Somebody followed that buckboard when it brought the womenfolks. I don’t like it.” One of the other men, Garfield, sat up. “Been meanin’ to tell you, Voyle. I come on some hoss tracks up on the rim a few days back. Looked like somebody had been scoutin’ us.” “All right, you boys all know your business. Make like it’s Injun times again, only these Injuns will be white men and outlaws, more than likely. “We’re bunchin’ cows for a drive.
In a few days we’ll have a dozen more hands on the place. I’d guess they know that, so if anything happens it will be before the other hands get here.
“Don’t any of you get more than two, three miles from the place. Watch your back trails, and if anything happens you hightail it back here to stand by the womenfolks. his “Hell, I never knowed any outlaw to bother womenl” Garfield protested. “I know, but we’re away out in the hills. Mighty few folks even know we’re here, an’ there’s outlaws an’ outlaws. his Garfield pulled on his other boot and straightened up, hitching his suspenders over his shoulders. Then he slung on his gunbelt.
“Take your Winchester, too, you may need it.” Garfield gave him a bleak look. One of the hands started to snore, and Voyle indicated him.
“Wake him up at midnight. He can stay on watch until three, and then Pete can take over until daybreak.” Voyle Ragan went outside and stopped, listening. It was quiet, very quiet. He walked up to the house and to his room. After he had hung his gunbelt to the headboard of his bed, he placed his Winchester across the washstand, close by.
It had been a long time since he had been in a shooting fight and he wasn’t sure he was up to it.
Morning was cool and clear, yet Mike Bastian could feel disaster in the air. Dressing hurriedly, he headed for the boardinghouse. Only a few men were eating, and there was no talk among them.
They glanced up when he entered, but only one nodded briefly. Mike was finishing his coffee when Kerb Perrin entered.
Instantly, Mike was on guard. Perrin walked with an arrogance that was unusual with him. He glanced at Mike Bastian, then seated himself and began to eat.
Roundy came in, then Doe Sawyer. That meant that Ben Curry was alone in the stone house. A moment later Ducrow entered, followed by Kiefer, then by Rocky Clatt, Monson, and Panell.
His cup halfway to his mouth Mike remembered suddenly that these were the men Perrin planned to use in the raid on the Ragan ranch. That could mean the raid was to happen tdi He looked up to see Roundy push back from the table, his coffee unfinished. The old woodsman hurried outside and disappeared.
Mike put down his own cup and stood up.
Instantly, he was motionless. The hard prod of a gun was in his back and a voice was saying, “Don’t movel” The voice was that of Fernandez. Perrin was leaning back in his chair, smiling.
“Sorry to surprise you, Bastian,” Perrin said, “but with Lenaker on the way here we had to move fast. By the time he arrives I’ll be in the saddle.
Some of the boys wanted to kill you but I figure you’d be a bargaining point with the old man.
“He might be a hard kernel to dig out of that stone shell of his, but with you for an argument I think we can make him listen.” “You’re mistaken,” Mike said quietly.
“He doesn’t care what happens to me. He can afford to be rid of me and recruit somebody else.
He won’t let you get sway with it.” “I shall, though. You see, Rigger Molina left this morning with ten of his boys to knock over the gold train.” “That was to be my job,” Mike said.
“I swapped with him. He could have the gold train if he left me the bank job. I must admit”-Perrin smiled”…t I neglected to tell him about the twelve armed guards, and the number who had shotguns. In fact, I told him only three guards would be along. I believe that will take care of him for me.” Perrin turned abruptly. “Take his gun and tie his hands behind his back, then shove him into the street. I want the old man to see him.” “What about him?” Kiefer pointed a gun at Doe.
“Leave him alone. We may need a doctor, and he knows where his bread is buttered.” Mike Bastian was coldly, bitterly angry with himself. He should have been more carefull His attention had been on Perrin, and Fernandez had slipped up behind him. He was shoved into the street. The morning sun was warming things up and he was pushed out in its full glare, facing up the street toward the stone house.
He felt a fierce triumph. No matter what happened to him the old man would be tough to move out of that house. The sun was full in his face as it would be in the faces of any attackers, and the old man would be up there, ready, with a high-powered rifle.
From the doors and windows he could command the whole settlement.
Perrin had moved out behind a wall of logs and sandbags hastily thrown up in the street. “Come on down, Curryl” he shouted. “Come down with your hands up or we’ll kill your soul” There was no reply, no evidence they had been heard. “I’m not his son,” Bastian said.