“Outside of his own crowd nobody has seen Ben Curry in years, at least, not to know who he was. Mighty few know his power, although there’s a rumor around that somewhere there lives a man who rides herd on more than a hundred outlaws. Much of his success lies in the fact that nobody believes it.
“His men ride out and meet at a given point.
They ride alone or in pairs, never more than three together at a time until the job is pulled, then they break up an’ scatter. “He plans ever’ job himself, with maybe one or two settin’ in. He’s scouted or had the job scouted by somebody he can trust. It is planned, rehearsed, then done.
“Mostly folks lay the robberies to driftin’ cowhands, to Jesse James or somebody else.
He pulls jobs anywhere from Canada to Mexico, and from San Mtone to Los Angeles.” Roundy started off along the trail. “He’s been the brains, all right, but don’t ever forget it was those guns of his kept things in line. Lately, he hasn’t had to use his guns. Kerb Perrin, Rigger Molina, or somebody else will handle discipline.
He’s become too big, Ben Curry has.
He’s like a king, and the king isn’t gettin’ any younger.” He stopped in the trail and turned around. “How d’you suppose Perrin will take it when he hears about you talon’ over? You think he’ll stand still for that?” “I doubt if he will,” Mike said thoughtfully.
“I imag- ine he’s done some planning on his own.”.
“You can bet he hasl So has Molina, and neither one of them will stop at murder to get what they want.
Your pa still has them buffaloed, I think, but that won’t matter when the showdown comes. And I figure the time has come.” “Now?” Mike was incredulous.
“Mike, I never told you, and I know Ben hasn’t, but Ben has a family.” [*thorngg’”A family?” Mike Bastian was shocked. “But I-l” “He has a wife and two daughters, and they have no idea he’s an outlaw.
Wouldn’t believe it if you told “em. Their home is down near Tucson someplace, but occasionally they come to a ranch he owns in Red Wall Canyon, a ranch supposedly owned by Voyle Ragan. Ben visits them there.” “Who else knows this?” “Nary a soul, and don’t you be tellin” anyone. Ben, he always wanted a son, and never had one, so when your real pa was killed down at Mesilla, Ben took you to raise. That was nigh onto eighteen years ago, and since then he’s spent a lot of time an’ thought on you. A long time later he told me he was going to raise you to take over whatever he left.” “What about my real father? My family?” Roundy shrugged. “I never did get the straight of that, and there may be other stories. The way I heard, it was your real pa was killed by “Paches whilst you was off in the brush somewhere. They come down, killed your pa, stole your horses, and looted the wagon. They were bein” chased by soldiers out of El Paso or somewhere an’ it was a sort of hit-an’-run thing. The soldiers brought you back to town an’ Ben took you to raise.” “Kind of him.” “Yes, it was. Not many men would do such a thing, them days. Most of them just didn’t want the responsibility or wouldn’t take the time. For several years it was just you an’ him, an’ he tried to teach you everything he knew. “Look at it. You can track like an Apache. In the woods you’re a ghost, and I doubt if old Ben Curry himself can throw a gun as fast and accurate as you. You can ride anything that wears hair, an’ what you don’t know about cards, dice, roulette, and all the rest of it, nobody knows. You can handle a knife, fight with your fists, and open anything made in the way of safes and locks. “Along with that he’s seen you got-a good education, so’s you can handle yourself in any kind of company. I doubt if any boy ever got the education and training you’ve had, and now Ben is ready to step back an’ let you take over.” “So he can join his wife and daughters?” “Uh-huh. He just wants to step out of the picture, go somewhere far off, and live a quiet life. He’s gettin’ no younger and he wants to take it easy in his last years. You see, Mike, Ben’s been afraid of only one thing.
That’s poverty. He had a lot of it as a youngster.
I reckon that was one reason he taken you to raise, he knowed what you were up against, if you lived at all.
“Now he’s made his pile, but he knows he can’t get out alive unless he has somebody younger, stronger, and smarter to take control of what he’s built. That’s where you come in.” “Why not let Perrin have it?” “You know the answer to that. Perrin is mean and he’s dangerous. He’d have gone off the deep end long ago if it hadn’t been for Ben Curry. He’s a good second man but a damn poor leader. That goes for Molina, too. He’d have killed fifty times if he hadn’t known that Ben would kill him when he got back.
“No, neither could handle it, and the whole shootin’ match would go to pieces in sixty days left to either of them. More than that, a lot of people would get killed, inside an’ outside the gang.” Little of what Roundy was saying was new to Bastian, yet he was curious as to why the old man was saying it. The two had been together a lot and knew each other as few men ever did. They had gone through storm, hunger, and thirst together, living in the desert and mountains, returning only occasionally to the rendezvous in Toadstool Canyon. Obviously there was purpose in Roundy’s bringing up the subject, and Bastian waited, listening. Over the years he had learned that Roundy rarely talked at random. He spoke when he had something to say, something important. Yet even as they talked he was aware of all that was about him. A quail had moved into the tall grass near the stream, and ahead of them a squirrel moved in the crotch of a tree, and only minutes ago a gray wolf had crossed the path where they walked.
Roundy had said he was a woodsman, and it was true that he felt more at home in the woods and wild country than anywhere else. The idea of taking over the leadership of the outlaws filled him with unease. Always he had been aware that this time would come, and he had been schooled for it, but until now it had always been pleasantly remote. Now, suddenly, it was at hand.
Was he afraid of responsibility? Or was he simply afraid? Searching his thoughts he could find no fear. As for responsibility, he had been so prepared and conditioned for his role that it was a natural step. He thought of Kerb Perrin and Rigger Molina. Was he afraid? No, he was not.
Both men had been tolerant and even friendly when he was a boy, Molina especially. Yet as he grew older and became a man they had withdrawn. Did they realize the role that he was being prepared for? They knew him, but how much did they know? None of them had seen him shoot, for example. At least, none that he knew.
Roundy interrupted his thoughts by stopping to study the country ahead. “Mike,” Roundy said, “the country is growing up. Last year some of our raids raised merry hell, and the boys had a hard time getting away. Folks don’t like having their lives disrupted, and when the boys ride out this year they will be riding into trouble.
“Folks don’t look at an outlaw as they used to. He isn’t regarded as some wild youngster full of liquor and excess energy. He’s a bad man, dangerous to the community, and he’s stealing money folks have saved. “Now they see an outlaw like a wolf, and every man will be hunting him. Before you go into this you’d better think comx over, and think seriously. “You know Ben Curry, and I know you like him, as well you should. He did a lot for you. At the same time, Ben had no right to raise you to be an outlaw.
He chose his own way, of his own free will, but you should be free to do the same.
“No man has a right to say to another, “This you must be.” Nobody ever asked you did you want to be an outlaw, although as a youngster you might have said yes. Looked at from afar it seems romantic an” excitin’. Well, take it from me, it ain’t. It’s hard, dirty, and rough. It’s hangin’ out with mean, bitter people; it’s knowin’ cheap, tricky women who are just like the outlaws, out to make a fast buck the easiest way they can.” The old man stopped to relight his pipe, and Mike kept silent, waiting for Roundy to continue.