“This Ranger won’t help us any!”
Peabody declared. “Who sent for you …
Quarterman?”
“That’s right, and that should prove something to you. If he were guilty he wouldn’t call in a Ranger, he’d wipe you out himself, and they must muster a hundred riders between them. He thinks there is something else behind this.”
“He does, does he?” Strider sneered. “All he called you for was to get it done legal.”
Noll walked up on the other side of the trough. “Hotel up the street. Clean beds, too, an’ down thisaway a mite Amy Booth has her eatin’ house. Best grub 133 west o’ the Pecos. Reckon I’ll see you there.”
Sartain nodded, then turned back to Loring.
“You men take it easy. I’ll look into this.”
“An’ we starve while you do?” Mcationabb spoke for the first time, bitterness edging his voice. “Man, those wagons you saw belong to us! Those women an’ kids are ours! We’re nigh out of grub an’ our stock’s been run off! How can we wait? What can we do? You talk about takin’ it easy! Them ain’t your womenfolks!”
“Will it help if you crowd those cowhands into a gunfight an’ get killed? How would your families leave the country then? Who would care for them? Be patient, man!”
They were silent, acknowledgment of the truth of what he had said obvious on their faces. Grim, lonely, frightened men. Not frightened of trouble for themselves, for they had known thirst, dust storms, and flash floods, they had fought Indians and hunger. They were frightened of an uncertain future and what would become of their families. “We’ll sit tight,” Loring said. “I never heard of you giving a man a raw deal yet!”
At that moment the three ranchers awaited him at the Longhorn Hotel up the street, and Sartain knew their appearance now would have led to shooting. Furthermore, their riders would be in town tonight, so the situation was like a powder keg.
The quiet authority he remembered in Noll’s voice made him wonder, it was so unexpected. The man seemed to have judgment and might provide the essential balance wheel the community needed.
Quarterman was a tall man of nearly sixty with a white mustache and goatee. He stood up when Sartain entered, an immaculate man in a black broadcloth coat and white hat. His blue eyes twinkled as he held out his hand. Beside him was a tall girl with dark eyes and hair, her figure lovely. She looked at him, then again. “How are you, Colonel? I’m Sartain.”
“Recognized you, sir, from stories I’ve heard. Mr. Sartain, my daughter, Carol.” He turned slightly toward a big young man with red hair and a rugged face. “This is Steve Bayne, and the other gentleman”—he indicated a short, powerful man with a broad-jawed face and keen blue eyes–?is Holston 135 Walker, of the Running W.”
Jim Sartain acknowledged the introductions, aware of the possessive air adopted by Bayne toward Carol, and to his wry amusement, he found himself resenting it.
It was Walker who interested him most. Holy Walker was a successful rancher, but stories of his skill with his deadly six-guns were told wherever cowhands congregated, and also of his almost fabulous treatment of his hands.
As their hands gripped, Sartain thought he had never felt such power latent in any man as in the leonine Walker. His rusty hair showed no hint of gray, and his face was smooth, the skin taut over the powerful bones of his face.
“There’s been a lot of range burned off,” Sartain commented. “Who did that?”
“The nesters,” Bayne said irritably.
“Who else would do it?”
“They claim some of you did it,” Sartain suggested mildly. “Maybe you’re both wrong.”
Bayne stared at him. “Who did you come here to act for?” he demanded. “Those infernal nesters or us?”
“For neither of you,” Sartain replied. “I’m to see justice done, to find who is breaking the law and see they are punished, whoever they may be. The law,” he added, “is not an instrument to protect any certain group against another.”
Bayne turned on Quarterman. “I told you it wouldn’t do any good to send for Rangers, Colonel! We could handle this better our own way! Let me turn John Pole loose on them! He’ll have them out of here, and mighty fa/!”
“Let me hear of you starting anything like that,” Sartain said coolly, “and you’ll be thrown in jail.”
Bayne turned on him impatiently. “You fatheaded fool! Who do you think you are? I’ve fifty riders at my call, and a dozen of them better men than you! We don’t need any overrated, blown-up Ranger braggarts to do our fighting!”
Sartain smiled. It was a rare smile and had a warm, friendly quality. He glanced at Quarterman, and then his daughter. “Evidently opinions are divided,” he said dryly. He turned back to Bayne. “I’m not here to resent your opinions of the Texas Rangers”—there was no smile in his eyes now–?I’m here 137 to settle your trouble, and I will settle it. However,” he added, “if you have any more riders of the quality of John Pole, it’s no wonder you’ve got trouble. He’s a known killer, and a suspected rustler. He’s been a troublemaker everywhere he’s gone. It might go far toward solving the situation if he were fired and packed out of the country.”
Bayne snorted his contempt. “Riders like Pole helped build my ranch,” he said. “I want men in my outfit who can handle guns, and as for his being a killer, at least he hasn’t been hiding behind the skirts of the law!”
“Here, here, Steveffwas Quarterman interrupted. “That’s no way to talk! Sartain is here at my request, and we aren’t getting any results this way!”
“By the way, Colonel”—Sartain turned toward Quarterman–?I want to get about six head of beef to feed those people in the creek bottom. We can’t let them starve.”
Stephen Bayne had started to walk away, now he whirled and charged back, eyes bulging.
“What?” he roared. “You ask us to feed those
lousy beggars? Why, you—“
Jim Sartain’s face was suddenly hard and cold. “You’ve said enough, Bayne! I’ll let you get away with it because I’m here on business! You finish that statement and I’ll slap all your teeth down your throat!”
Devilish eagerness sprang into Bayne’s face. “Stinkin’ coward, was what I was goin’ to call you,” he said deliberately.
III
Sartain’s hands were chest-high in front of him as he was rubbing the fingers of his right hand against the palm of his left. Now, at Bayne’s ^ws, his left leaped like a striking rattler and his hard knuckles smashed Bayne’s lips back into his teeth. The blow stopped Bayne in his tracks momentarily, and that was all Sartain wanted. He moved in fast with all his bottled-up anger exploding in smashing punches.
A left and right to the wind that jerked Bayne’s mouth wide as he gasped for his lost wind, and then a cracking right to the jaw that felled him to his knees, his face contorted with fury and pain.
Sartain was cool. He glanced quickly 139 at Quarterman, who was obviously astonished, and at Holy Walker, who smiled faintly. “You move fast, friend,” he said quietly.
Then his eyes went to Carol, who was staring down at Steve Bayne, a peculiar expression on her face, then she looked up at Jim Sartain. “I’m sorry, Miss Quarterman,” he said. “He asked for it. I wasn’t looking for trouble.”
“You accept your opportunities quickly, though, don’t you?” she asked coldly. “No wonder you’ve killed men.”
“Nobody would have been surprised had I drawn. Men have been killed for less,” he replied. He turned back to Quarterman. “I want to renew my request, Colonel. I appreciate the situation, but your fight is not with women and children, and these are good, honest people. How about it?”
Quarterman hesitated, gnawing his mustache, resenting the position he was in. Behind Sartain, Walker spoke. “I reckon I can spare a few head, but those are proud folks. Will they take them?”
Sartain turned. “Thanks, Walker. An’ let’s go see, shall we?”
“May I come along?”
Sartain turned on Carol, surprised and
pleased. “Glad to have you, ma’am. We sure are!”
Fires blazed cheerfully among the huddle of wagons. There were ten families there, and seventeen children in all. As the three rode toward the fires a man stepped from the shadows with a shotgun. It was Peabody.
“What you want?” he demanded suspiciously, glancing from Sartain to Holy Walker. Then he detected Carol Quarterman and he jerked his hat off in confusion. “Pardon me, ma’am.” His eyes went back to the men. “What is this, Ranger? What you want?”
“A talk with you, Loring, and Mcationabb. Right here will do.”
“I reckon not.” Mcationabb stepped from the shadows near a wagon with a Spencer over his arm. “Anything to be said will be said to all of us, right in the circle!”