“Twin? Twin Baker?” His voice shook. “Did you say Twin Baker?”
“When did you last see him, Rossiter?”
He shook his head, as if to clear it of shock. “It’s been years … years. I thought … Well, I thought they were dead, both of them.” “Ma killed one of them, Rossiter. She killed Stan Baker when she got her cattle back. But it’s the other one I’m talking about … John, I think his name was, but they call him Twin.”
“We got to get Balch,” he stammered. “He stole our herd.” “I don’t think it was Balch,” I said. “Twin Baker got your herd, like he’s been getting all the rest of the young stuff around here.” “You’re lyin’!” he protested. “Twin’s dead. He’s been dead. Both those boys …
John an’ Stan. They’re both dead.”
“What’s this all about?” Roper demanded. “Who’s Twin Baker?” “He’s a cow thief. He’s the man who’s been running cattle off this range for several years. He’s been easing them off the range a few head at a time, keeping out of sight all the while. He’s been stealing young stuff from every outfit in the basin … And he killed Danny Rolf.”
“What?” Ben Roper said.
“Danny’s dead … Drygulched, then shot in the back of the head at close range. To make sure. Maybe it was because he was wearing my red-checked shirt and Twin mistook him for me. But more likely it was because Danny found Baker’s hideout.” “I thought he had gone girlin’,” Roper muttered. “He had … Lisa is Twin Baker’s half-sister. She’s down there … Or was. I advised her to get out before he killed her, too.” “John?” Rossiter said. “Twin?”
We looked at Rossiter, then at each other. He wasn’t paying us no mind. He was just blindly staring off across the yard toward the hills. So I told them about finding Danny’s body, about trailing him with Ann, of talking to Lisa, taking Ann home. “The major is getting a bunch together to go after the cattle, and after Twin Baker—if he can be found,” I said.
“He’s a gunfighter,” I commented. “Lisa said he’s killed several men, and that he wanted me.” I looked around at them. “My mother killed Stan Baker, his twin, when they were trying to rustle some of our stock.” Barby Ann was staring at me. “Your stock?” She spoke contemptuously. “How much stock would a saddle tramp have?”
Rossiter shook his head irritably, and spoke without thinking. “Barby Ann, Talon’s got more cattle than all of us in the basin put together. He lives in a house … Why, you could put the major’s house in his livin’ room!” Now that wasn’t true. They were all staring at me now. Only Fuentes was smiling a little.
“I don’t believe it!” Barby Ann snapped. She’d never liked me much, but then she’d had no corner on that. I didn’t think much of her, either. “He’s filled you full of nonsense!”
“We’d better go if we’re going,” I said. “But one man had better stay here.” I looked over at Harley. “How about you?”
“Joe Hinge is up. He can use a gun. Let him stay. I never did like rustlers.” Rossiter stood there, a huge frame of a man, only a shell of the magnificent young man he’d been when he rode for us on the Empty. Now he was sagging, broken.
“Here they come!” Harley said suddenly. “The major, Balch … the lot of them!”
“Talon?” Rossiter’s tone was pleading. “Don’t let them hang him!” Puzzled, I stared at the blind man. “I wouldn’t like to see any man hang, Rossiter. But Twin Baker deserves it if ever a man did. He killed Danny, and he would probably have killed Ann Timberly. And he’s stolen enough cattle to put you all out of business.”
“Talon, you can stop them. Don’t let them hang him.” Balch rode up, Roger beside him. There was no sign of Saddler, but Major Timberly was there. Ingerman was with Balch, and so were several other riders, their faces familiar.
“Balch,” I said suddenly. “Recall the first time we met? Over near the cap-rock?”
“I remember.”
“There was a man with you … Who was he? He wasn’t one of your boys.” “Oh, him? He wasn’t from around here. He was a cattle buyer, tryin’ to get a line on beef for the comin’ year. He was fixing to buy several thousand head.” “Did he?”
“Ain’t seen him since. He was a pleasant fella. Stayed two, three days. Rode out with Roger a couple of times.”
“He said he was from Kansas City,” Roger offered. “And he seemed to know the town. But he talked of New Orleans, too. Why? What’s he got to do with anything?”
“I think he was Twin Baker,” I said. “I think he was our rustler.” Balch stared, his face growing dark with angry blood. “That’s a lot of poppycock!” he declared irritably. “He was nobody from around here.” “Maybe,” I said.
“Time’s a-wastin’,” Roger said. “Let’s ride!”
“All right.” I started for my horse.
Rossiter came down off the steps. He put out a hand. “Talon! I got no right to ask it, but don’t let them hang Twin Baker.”
“What difference does it make to you?” I asked. “He stole your cattle, too.”
“I don’t want to see any man hang,” Rossiter protested. “It ain’t right.”
“You comin’ or not?” Balch asked.
“Get going,” I said. “I’ll not be far behind.”
Angrily, Balch swung his horse. The major beside him, they rode out—a dozen very tough men.
“They could jail him,” Rossiter protested. “They could hold him for trial. A man deserves a trial.”
“Like the trial he gave Danny?”
At the corral I shook out a loop and walked toward that almost white horse with the black mane, tail and legs. I liked that horse, and I would need a stayer for a tough ride. I didn’t think the ride would end on the Middle Concho. Twin Baker was no fool, and he would be hard to catch.
Leading the horse out, I got my saddle on him. Rossiter started toward me but Barby Ann was trying to turn him back.
“Pa? What’s the matter with you? Have you gone crazy? What do you care about a no-account cow thief? Or that saddle tramp you seem to think is such a big man?” He pulled away from her, tearing his sleeve in the process. He came after me in a stumbling run, and when I led the horse toward the bunkhouse, he followed. “When you were a boy,” he babbled, “we talked, you an’ me. You was a good boy. I told you stories. Sometimes we rode together—“ “And then what happened?” I said bitterly.
“You don’t understand!” he protested. “You folks had everything! You had a big ranch, you had horses, cattle, a fine house … I had nothing. Folks were always saying how goodlookin’ I was. I rode fine horses. I wore good clothes. But I had nothing … nothing!”
I was listening. “Pa worked for it. He came into that country when there were only Indians, and he made peace with some, fought others. He built that ranch, he and Ma, built it with their own hands. They worked a lifetime doing it. And we boys helped, when we could.”
Rossiter’s face was haggard now. “But that takes time, boy! Time! I didn’t want to be a rich old man. I wanted to be a rich young man. I deserved it. Why should you folks have so much and me nothing? All I did was take a few cattle … Just a few head!”
He put his hand on my shoulder. “Talon, for God’s sake!” “Rossiter,” I said patiently, “I suspect everybody wants to have it all when they’re young, but it just doesn’t work that way. Pa worked, too. Worked hard. Maybe a man shouldn’t have it when he’s young. It robs him of something, gives him all he can have when he’s too young to know what he’s got. I don’t know … Maybe I’m. a damned fool, but that’s the way it seems to me.”
I looked at Rossiter. “Now you go back inside. There’s nothing to worry about.” Barby Ann had come closer. She was standing there staring at her father as at a stranger. She had changed, somehow, these past few days. Maybe it was the rejection by Roger Batch. Maybe it was something that had been there all the time and we were only now seeing. “Forget it, Rossiter. I don’t think we’ll ever catch him. He’s too smart.”
“He is, isn’t he?” Rossiter said eagerly. Suddenly, his expression became thoughtful. “Why, sure! He’s got a good start. He won’t try to keep that last herd, and they’ll be so busy getting it back they won’t get on to the others. That will split their party. My boys will have to take over that herd and start it back. Balch and the major won’t have more than eight men with them … why, that’s smart! That’s thinking!”