The rancher looked over to where a swarthy, lean man in buckskins was holding a ribby little roan mustang. The tracker was quietly smoking a cigarette as he saw the posse assembling. He was a loner who displayed no particulr regard for his fellow humans, a seemingly friendless man whose sole redeeming feature appeared to be his tracking ability.

  Raymond ambled across to join the sheriff and Coventry. He was troubled by a thought that kept occurrng. While some of his men had reasoned that Schultz had been in the wrong place at the wrong time, he had other suspicions. After checking to be sure that he was not overheard, he said quietly to McLeod, ‘I think that whoever shot Schultz knew exactly who he was aiming for. Cutler and Schultz were in the party that strung up John Murphy. This is some sort of revenge killing. I reckon someone knows who was involved and, if I’m right, Lonsdale, Quinn and Hutchins could be next.’

  ‘Well, don’t expect me to know,’ the sheriff told him. ‘I didn’t know for sure who was invloved until you just told me and I didn’t want to know. If you are right, someone on the Double T has been talking, or else the hanging was seen by one of the small ranchers who knew the men concerned.’

  The arrival of Jensen and his men stopped further discussion. The others quickly mounted although there was a slight delay while Coventry found a low spot to stand his horse so that his foot could reach the stirrup enabling him to mount.

  Chico was ready when McLeod trotted his horse over to him and said, ‘Find that killer for me, Chico.’

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Connell saw the chimney smoke rising above a screen of pines and heard the sound of someone chopping wood. Then he encountered a track running into the trees and, when he followed it, he came to a gate. A C2 Bar burned into the gatepost told him that he was entering Coulter’s ranch.

  The rancher’s dogs were barking long before the deputy came into view. When he emerged from the trees he saw a roomy, neat cabin with a large vegetable garden beside it and a plentiful supply of split wood. There was washing on the line but no sign of the axeman he had heard as he approached He saw some movement behind the window curtains beside the door and noticed that the latter was very slightly ajar. He stopped his horse, stood in the stirrups and called, ‘Anyone home?’

  The door opened and Coulter emerged with no welcome on his face and a shotgun in his hands. ‘What do you want?’

  ‘We met yesterday, Mr Coulter. 1 was wondering if you could give me a bit of information. I’ll be calling at all the ranches in the area.’

  ‘You’re wasting your time, Connell. I ain’t gonna give you anything that you’ll use against me or my neighbours later.’

  ‘I’m not here asking you to give away secrets. l’m here to investigate what is claimed to be an outbreak of rustling and I haven’t been able to find any evidence of such a great outbreak. I would like your ideas about the situation.’

  ‘They are the same as I said all along: there never was any rustling,’ Coulter growled. ‘It’s a story cooked up by the big ranchers to give them an excuse to force out the rest of us.’

  ‘There’s some rustling; I’ve seen signs of it. There’s always a bit in open-range country, but that’s nothing. Have you ever lost any cattle or has your calf crop been unexpectedly down?’

  ‘Can’t say for sure that I have,’ the rancher replied. ‘But with cattle the unexpected often happens. I ain’t saying though that I have more calves than cows in a given year, if that’s what you’re driving at.’

  ‘It’s not. But we do need to talk.’

  Coulter’s suspicions had waned slightly and he finally invited the deputy to dismount and come inside. Mary and Bob Coulter just had time to put away the guns with which they were covering their father before the visitor entered the house. Shirley Coulter, their mother, greeted Connell at the door and then hurried to the kitchen to prepare a pot of coffee.

  The rancher indicated a chair near the front window. ‘Take a seat there and let’s hear what you have to say.’

  Crossley-Hunt put aside the ranch books. He hated book work at the best of times but knew that a certain amount was necessary. As he stood up he pocketed a page of pencilled figures he had compiled. Though normally they would have been reassuring, he was worried that he had missed something. The record of brandings had shown a steady increase each year so if the ranch was not losing calves, were they losing fully grown cattle? The books did not tally with the stories he had been hearing. The only explanation that came to him was that the rustlers, for some reason, had left the Diamond R alone.

  Prudence came in with a cup of coffee and a slice of cake for him. He was trying hard to be friendly, but the maid still seemed ill at ease in his presence. ‘Just what I needed, Prudence. I’ve had enough book work for today. After this I might go for a ride. Do you know the shortest way to Alder Creek?’

  The maid looked even more worried than usual. ‘Don’t go over there, Mr Crossley. Those small ranchers might not give you a very good reception.’

  ‘I doubt they’ll trouble me much. I am not going with a team of armed men. I am hardly a threat to them. Do you know the closest ranch on Alder Creek?’

  ‘That would be Coulters’. Mr Jensen don’t like them folks much but others around here say they’re honest enough.’

  Though slightly annoyed by the fact that most westerners had trouble with his name, the company man forced himself to smile. ‘There you go. You were worrying for nothing. Now which way to Alder Creek?’

  The maid took him to the window and indicated a line of hills behind the ranch. ‘Go through that notch you can see on the crest of the range and the first creek on the other side is Alder. When you hit it turn left and follow it down to Coulters’.’

  Crossley-Hunt collected his horse and ignored the warnings of George, the old, crippled cowboy who did odd jobs around the ranch.

  ‘You better be careful,’ the old man said. ‘Someone’s shooting ranch folks. There’s a killer out there and he could be after the first unlucky cuss to come along.’

  The company man thanked him for his advice, promised to be careful and cantered away. Two hours later he turned his horse along Alder Creek. He had enjoyed the ride and gradually he became more relaxed. The Diamond R and its books seemed to be a long way from where he was. He had almost forgotten about rustlers when he glimpsed horses moving through the trees ahead. Sensing trouble, he undid the flap of his holster to get quicker access to his Adams revolver. He had carried the weapon through his military career and saw no need to buy an American gun although .450 ammunition for the Adams was sometimes hard to find.

  The riders came into view and he recognized Connell but was surprised to see that his companion was very pretty girl. The deputy’s pack horse followed behind.

  Crossley-Hunt halted his horse and waited for them to come up to him. ‘Hello, Connell,’ he greeted. ‘Don’t tell me you are eloping.’

  ‘This is the one I was telling you about,’ the deputy said to his companion. ‘This is Mr Crossley-Hunt. He’s from England on an inspection visit to the Diamond R.’ To the company man he said, ‘This is Miss Mary Coulter. She’s taking me to see some of her neighbours. Her pa reckons there’s less chance of me getting my head blown off if she is with me.’

  Crossley-Hunt raised his hat. ‘I’m very pleased to meet you, Miss Coulter. I wonder if I might ride along with you because I also would like to meet some of your neighbours and I, too, don’t want my head blown off.’

  ‘It suits me,’ Mary said.

  Connell had been enjoying having the girl to himself and now felt slightly peeved that he would have to share her company, but could see the sense in Crossley-Hunt’s proposal.

  ‘That’s an unusual name,’ Mary observed. ‘Does it have something to do with royalty?’

  The company man laughed. ‘Hardly. It appears that my grandfather married into the wealthy Crossley family and improved his chances of an inheritance by putting the Crossley in front of the plain old Hunt. The following generations have been saddled with this double-barrelled name ever since.’

  ‘Out here we use first names mostly,’ the deputy reminded him. ‘What did your mother call you?’

  ‘Clifford but Cliff will be fine. It sounds more rugged.’

  The pun was lost on his companions, but they were Mary, Tom and Cliff as they rode together to the Sutton ranch. They failed to reach it.

  The company man had just been advising the others of the latest murder when they heard a horse whinny from behind some pines that screened a bend in the trail.

  ‘Someone’s coming,’ Connell said.

  Seconds later a party of horsemen came out of the trees, saw the trio and turned their mounts toward them. The foremost rider was a dark, buckskin-clad individual on a roan pony. Directly behind him rode Sheriff McLeod and half-a-dozen men. The main posse had split with Raymond leading one group and Jensen and Coventry the other.

  The sheriff did not look pleased to see Connell. ‘So this is where you’re hiding out,’ the big lawman said accusingly. ‘I reckoned you might have been out chasing rustlers but instead I find you socializing.’ He glared at Mary. ‘And with the enemy at that.’

  ‘I don’t consider Miss Coulter to be my enemy, Sheriff, and she has been helping me with my enquiries.’

  ‘I’ll bet,’ leered a big cowhand sitting beside Adams. ‘And what was fancy pants there helping you with?’

  Crossley-Hunt saw the half smile on the Diamond R foreman’s face telling him that trouble was not far away.

  CHAPTER NINE

  The company man could guess what had happened. Adams had set him up. The objectionable cowhand worked for another ranch so he had no power to fire him. It was a deliberate attempt to neutralize him and there was only one way that he could emerge with his reputation intact. Fully aware of what his reply would lead to, he addressed the big cowhand. ‘You have a big mouth, my friend, but if it flaps open a bit more I might have to close it.’

  McLeod added fuel to the fire. ‘We’re busy tracking a murderer, Mr Crawley-Hunt, otherwise I’d let you have a try at shutting Pecos’s mouth. But for your sake and because there are more important things to do, we’ll overlook your very indiscreet comments.’ Secretly the sheriff knew that a confrontation was unavoidable, but he had to pretend that he was not one of the instigators.

  ‘You are one very lucky Limey sonofabitch,’ Pecos said. ‘Next time we meet you won’t have anyone to hide behind.’

  Crossley-Hunt sounded almost tired. ‘Right,’ he told Pecos, as he stepped down from his horse. ‘How do you want to settle this – guns or fists? ‘

  ‘We can’t have no shooting,’ the sheriff objected. ‘But if Mr Crawlin-Hunt is so set on getting his head ripped off his shoulders, I won’t stop him. I doubt that we’ll be delayed for long.’

  The company man removed his coat, unbuckled his gunbelt and passed them to Connell. ‘Hold these for a while, Tom.’

  ‘Be careful, Cliff. There are no London prize-ring rules here.’

  ‘I should hope not,’ Crossley-Hunt said calmly, as he turned to face his opponent.

  Pecos handed his gun to Adams and with a smile on his face, advanced for what he expected to be a quick, easy victory. It was.

  Crossley-Hunt lashed out as soon as he came into kicking range but his boot was aimed low. It took Pecos in the centre of the shin and the force straightened his foremost leg. As the leg straightened, his head involuntarily came down and forward to meet a rising right uppercut that smashed him upright again. It was a solid blow that staggered the big cowhand. But the Englishman gave him no time to recover. He jumped slightly in the air and with the full weight of his body behind it, drove the side of his foot into Pecos’s left knee slamming the joint sideways and rupturing ligaments in the process. Pecos groaned aloud and staggered in an effort to meet the rush that was coming, but his knee would no longer support his weight. He was tottering on one foot when Crossley-Hunt feinted with his right and hooked a vicious left into his opponent’s short ribs. The cowhand was halfway to the ground when a hard right took him on the jaw, snapped back his head and spun him as he fell. In seconds the fight was over.

  An angry murmur broke out from the posse. ‘You didn’t fight fair,’ a man accused.

  ‘You’re right – I didn’t – and I don’t. Any man who reckons he can hand me a whipping had better be able to do it. Would anyone else here like to try?’

  ‘I wonder how good you are with a gun,’ another man snarled.

  ‘My friend,’ Crossley-Hunt said mildly, ‘Anyone who can’t beat me with his fists certainly won’t beat me with a gun. I was the best pistol shot of all the officers in my regiment.’

  ‘But you ain’t got a gun,’ McLeod reminded, hoping that one of the onlookers would take the hint.

  ‘I have,’ Connell said. He was holding the Adams revolver by the butt ready to shoot through the bottom of the holster if necessary. ‘I don’t mind trying out this English self-cocker if anyone gets a bit too ambitious.’

  McLeod sought to regain control. ‘There’ll be no gunplay here. We have a murderer to catch.’ He glared at Mary. ‘You shouldn’t be seeing things like this, young lady.’

  ‘I agree, Sheriff,’ she said with a pleasant smile. ‘I didn’t think you would let such a thing happen.’

  At a loss for words, the sheriff turned to the men gathered around Pecos. ‘How is he?’

  ‘His knee’s all swole up already,’ Adams said. ‘Could be something busted. He sure as hell won’t be walking right for a while.’

  ‘Get him on a horse and have a man take him home.’ McLeod’s eye fell on Connell. ‘You can take his place. Your other duties are suspended till further notice.’

  Connell said to Crossley-Hunt, ‘Looks like there’s been a change of plans. Will you escort Mary home?’

  ‘I certainly will.’

  The Englishman’s enthusiastic reply caused a slight twinge of jealousy in the deputy. He told himself that such feelings were stupid as he had barely met the girl, but he had hoped for a chance to know her better.

  The posse started off again. Chico rode a few horse lengths ahead looking for tracks but found nothing. Occasionally he would halt and study something not apparent to the other posse members but then would ride on again. Connell soon reached the conclusion that the half-breed was putting on a show for the rest of the posse, probably making the job last to ensure better payment.

  An hour later they met the two other groups at a prearranged spot. None had encountered anything suspicious. Jensen and Coventry had ridden across the smaller holdings along Alder Creek but learned nothing. The smaller ranchers had forted up on seeing them and admitted to nothing.

  ‘They know,’ Joe Raymond said angrily, ‘but they won’t tell us anything. They had guns on us from shuttered windows and would not show themselves. All we were told was to go away.’

  Coventry gave a knowing smile. ‘Be patient, Joe,’ he said quietly, while casting a glance in Connell’s direction, ‘Don’t do anything until you are sure that we have this new deputy where we want him.’

  ‘I can tell you now where I want him,’ Jensen muttered. ‘I want him six feet under. He’s thrown in with the enemy and he’ll be nothing but trouble.’

  ‘Wouldn’t it be convenient if that skunk who’s murdering our men should shoot Connell by mistake?’ Coventry chuckled.

  ‘Why stop at Connell?’ Jensen suggested. ‘Our company man from England is getting rather nosy too. We have work to do and he’s holding things up. It would really strengthen our case against the rustlers if he should have an accident.’

  Raymond looked worried. He removed his spectacles and polished them with his bandanna before saying, ‘Don’t get too impatient. Crossley-Hunt can’t stay too long. He’s a business manager. As long as the paperwork is right we can bamboozle him. If anything happens to him though there might be too many questions asked.’

  Jensen said, ‘Let’s all head back to the Diamond R and stay the night. We can plan tomorrow’s moves then.’

  ‘What would McLeod’s reaction be if his deputy met with a fatal accident?’ Coventry asked.

  Raymond muttered, ‘He might not like it but would not look too hard for the killer if we told him not to. We own him body and soul and he knows it.’

  The trio looked across to where the deputy was talking with some of the cowhands. The latter were being guarded in what they told him and none was particularly friendly, but it was a worry that men spoke to him at all because there was much to hide.

  Connell felt that he had made some progress. The cowhands would admit to nothing, but the odd careless word here and there indicated that the two men killed had been involved in the lynching of at least one of the alleged rustlers. He had a motive for the killings, but it pointed squarely at the small ranchers. Was this their way of hitting back against their more powerful enemies?

  It was dark when the posse finally arrived back at the Diamond R and Jensen set about organizing food for the large number of unexpected guests. But he had one more task to perform. He told Adams, ‘Find Chico. I have a job for him.’

  ‘Are you sure you can trust him? That sneaky coyote would cut his own mother’s throat for a nickel.’

  ‘I’ll be offering him a bit more than a nickel,’ Jensen said.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Crossley-Hunt arrived half an hour after the posse. He had delayed at Coulter’s ranch for longer than he had intended. Prudence had made sure that a meal was kept for him and he devoured it hungrily. It had been a long time since lunch.

  The atmosphere inside the ranch house was decidedly frosty so the company man intended to seek out Connell who was sleeping outside with some of the other posse members. The night promised to be a cool one and he had returned to his room to collect his heavier coat when he noticed that a note had been pushed under the door. It was on a torn scrap of paper and written in crude block letters but the message was clear, CONEL IN DANGER.

 

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