Juggling reins, gun and latigo, Connell tightened the cinch another few inches. When he was satisfied, he led the horse out of the stable, but kept his gun trained on Roberts. ‘I’ll shoot you if you appear in that door before I leave,’ he threatened.

  ‘I ain’t moving.’ The deputy was thankful to be alive and had no intention of taking any risks.

  Connell mounted quickly, threw the deputy’s gun in a nearby horse trough and galloped away.

  McLeod alerted by the pounding of hoofs, emerged from his office to see his former deputy racing past him. He swore under his breath and called to the two rough-looking characters who had followed him out the door. ‘That’s Connell. Get after him.’ Then, with surprising speed for a big man, he ran to his horse hitched nearby and threw himself into the saddle. His companions unhitched their own mounts and seconds later, all three were in hot pursuit.

  Connell had roughly 200 yards start but actually steadied his mount’s rush. He had a long way to ride and going too hard too soon would quickly exhaust his horse. He knew that he had to make his hunters ride harder than he was so their mounts would fail sooner.

  Gambling that he would be very unlucky to be hit by a hard-riding shooter, he steadied the brown horse a little more. A glance over his shoulder showed that McLeod was working his spurs vigorously and was closing the gap between them. The sheriff’s horse was a good one, but the combination of great weight and lung-bursting speed would soon take its toll.

  Encouraged by the way his mount was overhauling his quarry, the big man plied the spurs savagely in an attempt to get into shooting range. Gradually his horse shortened the distance. The animal had thrown all its strength into the contest and now was within thirty yards of Connell’s mount. The sheriff tried a shot but, predictably, it missed.

  Aware of the danger from a lucky shot, Connell judged that it was time to increase his lead. ‘Now, let’s break their hearts,’ he told the brown horse as he allowed a little more rein. The animal stretched out its neck and lengthened its stride moving easily away from the sheriff’s foam-covered bay that, in response to its rider’s urgings, had spent itself too soon. In seconds the bay fell back and soon McLeod’s henchmen had caught up with their leader. Their horses were carrying considerably less weight but were only average quality.

  ‘He’s getting away,’ the sheriff shouted, but then noted that one of his men had a Winchester on his saddle. ‘Try a rifle shot,’ he ordered.

  The man hauled his mount to a stop, vaulted from the saddle and grabbed his carbine. Fortunately for Connell, the other two riders had not stopped as quickly and they moved between the shooter and his target.

  ‘Get outa the way!’ the rifleman called, while running to the side to get a view around his companions. By this time Connell was 200 yards away. But a man panting from hard riding and running does not shoot well. The first shot hit so far behind the target that the rifleman realized that he had not adjusted his rear sight. With no time to make the necessary correction, he aimed high and tried again. Again the distinctive thump of a striking bullet failed to reward his efforts. Then Connell was over a low hill and out of sight.

  ‘You’re a good one,’ he told the horse, patting its sweaty neck as he slowed to a trot. He had shaken off the pursuit but it was still a long way to the Diamond R.

  McLeod knew that he was beaten temporarily but refused to admit defeat. ‘I know where he’s going,’ he told the others. ‘He’s going to the Diamond R, then possibly Alder Creek. We’re not far from Coventry’s ranch. We’ll go there and I’ll swear in the Wineglass crew as deputies. Coventry will give us fresh horses. Connell and his friend Crossways are in for a surprise. This time I’m not worrying about the niceties of the law. We can shoot hell out of that pair first and then work out a suitable story later. Then we can clear out that rats’ nest along Alder Creek. The time for pussy-footing around is over.’

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  An air of tension hung over the ranch house at the Diamond R. Raymond was still with them as he feared to go back to the all but deserted Double T. He knew that Chico was dead, but suspected that someone else had hired him. The half-breed had been a hired gun and he suspected that his men had been killed on the instructions of someone from Alder Creek. His men had participated in the lynching of John Murphy and although he had not been present, Raymond had authorized his crew to take the action that they did.

  Jensen was short-tempered and anxious. He had seen Crossley-Hunt poring over the ranch books and was fearful that he might find how he had padded some of the bills and siphoned off a considerable sum of money. Over the years Regency Estates had not queried the temporary employment of the occasional fictitious cowhand, but their representative was starting to ask questions and could find out that the non-existent hands had been hired at a time when ranch work was fairly slack. The deal with the bulls had looked easy at the time. Through a crooked livestock agent, he had sold the Black Angus bulls not long after they arrived in the East and they had brought a good price. Then the conspirators had bought cheap, cross-bred animals from an eastern farm, had them suitably branded and sent them West after splitting the profits between themselves. Most westerners had never seen a Black Angus and were unlikely to know that a substitution had taken place. If Crossley-Hunt checked with Loeb Livestock on his way back East, there was a good chance that the fraud would be discovered.

  The company man had his own worries. He did not believe that Adams had acted independently when he made the attempt on his life. So far he had fallen out with the Cattlemen’s Association, the sheriff and quite a few ranch hands. Jensen was pretending to be friendly, but was hardly convincing. Crossley-Hunt preferred his enemies to come from the front but doubted that they would in this case.

  There had been a few awkward moments when a cowhand reported the presence of a strange horse in the remuda and that a good one from the late foreman’s string was missing. The company man explained that he had hired someone to send an important telegraph message.

  Jensen and Raymond knew immediately who owned the chestnut horse and did not hesitate to ask why such action was necessary. The manager also asked what was so important that it could not wait until regular hours.

  The time for diplomacy was past and Crossley-Hunt told them straight, ‘I felt that I could not trust any of our hands,’ he said. ‘They might be loyal to you, but that does not mean that they are loyal to the company. The contents of that message were highly confidential and I needed a man I could trust.’

  ‘And you don’t trust your own men?’ Jensen accused.

  ‘Not with the company they’ve been keeping.’

  ‘And that includes me?’

  ‘You’re damn right it does. A lot of strange things have been going on around here. You might think that murder is a normal part of beef production, but I do not. I’m on the verge of firing you, Jensen, so feel free to resign if you consider that you are being unjustly treated.’

  The manager flushed angrily and was about to reply when Prudence appeared at the door. ‘Tom Connell’s back,’ she announced before disappearing again.

  Crossley-Hunt strode outside in time to see Connell dismounting. ‘I sent your message,’ the latter told him. ‘But trouble could be following me. McLeod and Roberts tried to kill me. They’re really after my hide. If they get fresh horses they could turn up here.’

  ‘Stand right where you are – the pair of you.’

  Jensen’s voice was accompanied by the sound of a gun being cocked.

  The pair turned to see the manager glaring at them over the sights of a Colt .45. Behind him, Raymond was also belatedly drawing his gun. With a crooked smile on his lips, Jensen told them, ‘That’s right handy to know you’re wanted by the law, Connell. Nobody’s gonna doubt that you showed up here and killed poor Mr Crossways-Hunt.’

  ‘You won’t get away with this.’ Connell was playing for time. He had to keep the other man talking, hoping that his concentration would lapse and he would have half a chance to go for his own gun.

  The company man guessed what he was planning and he too attempted to create a diversion. ‘He’s right, Jensen. You can’t cover up a double murder.’

  ‘Can’t I? Too bad you won’t be around to see how it’s—’

  The 20-gauge shotgun sounded like a cannon. It was a light weapon loaded with bird shot that the ranch cook used to keep the hawks away from their chickens,but the tiny pellets hit Jensen and knocked him sideways. A few also struck Raymond and the gun he had just drawn fell from a wounded hand.

  Connell’s gun was out in a split second and he fired at Jensen as he struggled to rise. The manager fell back as the bullet entered at the base of his neck and tore its way down into his chest. But somehow he retained his grasp on the gun so Connell fired again before switching his attention to Raymond. But he need not have worried.

  Crossley-Hunt already had his gun in the wounded rancher’s face and was coolly telling him how he would relish the opportunity to shoot him.

  Prudence snapped open her shotgun and replaced the spent cartridges. There was even a rare smile on her face.

  ‘You saved us, Prudence,’ the company man said. ‘Thank you for your unexpected but very timely intervention.’

  ‘It was a pleasure,’ the small woman said and meant it. ‘Too bad I didn’t put a few more pellets into Raymond while I was at it.’

  ‘I’m badly wounded,’ the injured man groaned. ‘I need medical help.’ Then he turned to the woman. ‘Prudence, why did you shoot us?’

  ‘I shot you because you murdered my nephew, John Murphy. I was such a nobody around here that no one knew that my maiden name was Murphy. Nobody took any notice of me and, day after day, I heard you and your friends plotting and scheming. You thought nothing of murder. I even heard you and the others discussing John’s killing. I wrote down the names, but then I realized that I couldn’t go to the law because the law was as crooked as you are. Finally I gave the names to John’s son, Chico. John’s wife, who died years before you came here, was a Shoshone. Chico was their child. He was christened Charles Murphy but spent most of his life in Texas. You people thought Chico was working for you, but he was working for the Murphy clan.’

  ‘But I had no part in lynching Murphy,’ Raymond protested. ‘I wasn’t there.’

  The submissive voice was gone and Prudence spoke angrily. ‘You sent your men to do it. I heard the plans that you and the others made right in this ranch house. Coventry’s men murdered Martel and your turn came next. The idea was that each of the three ranches should lynch one small rancher so that all would be implicated. Mr Crossley-Hunt’s visit stopped Jensen from taking his turn.’

  The company man interrupted. ‘Then it was you, Prudence, who left the note warning that Tom was in danger?’

  ‘That’s right, but he had nothing to fear from Chico; it was the men who were plotting to have him killed.’

  ‘I’m bleeding,’ Raymond whined.

  ‘That’s good,’ Prudence snapped. ‘I hope it’s painful.’

  ‘It might be an idea to get Raymond out of here,’ Connell suggested. ‘McLeod could be here soon. Let’s patch up his arm and get him to Alder Creek where he can answer a few questions in front of witnesses.’

  Though Raymond was horrified at the prospect, Crossley-Hunt liked that idea and he and Prudence tended to their prisoner’s wounds while Connell saddled the horses. Raymond by then was in a state of sheer terror at the thought of being taken to Alder Creek and it suited his captors to let him think that he would possibly share the same fate as the alleged rustlers.

  The ranch hands had been out on the range and would not have heard the shooting but George, the crippled handyman, and the cook certainly had. The old cowboy came hobbling from one of the sheds and his eyes widened in surprise to see Jensen sprawled on the ground. ‘What happened?’

  ‘Jensen tried to kill me,’ the company man said smoothly. He thought it best not to mention Prudence’s part in the shooting. ‘I had to take a shotgun to him. Unfortunately Mr Raymond took sides but chose the wrong one. Connell and I are taking him to be patched up.’

  ‘They ain’t,’ Raymond cried. ‘Don’t believe him. They’re taking me to Alder Creek. They’re gonna lynch me.’

  Gus Lawler, the cook, took his shotgun back from Prudence, stared blankly at the scene for a second and muttered to George, ‘We didn’t see any of this, did we?’

  ‘Not a dad-blamed thing,’ the old man agreed. Together they walked back indoors. Neither held the members of the Cattlemen’s Association in much esteem and had been secretly pleased by the sudden turn of events.

  As Connell led up the horses, Crossley-Hunt said to Prudence, ‘If McLeod comes calling, blame the shooting on me and don’t try to conceal where we went. This will all be sorted out legally later, but Regency Estates will look after any legal problems you might have. Raymond won’t come to any harm from us unless he does something stupid.’

  ‘As long as that murdering weasel gets what’s coming to him, I don’t care how it happens,’ the maid said emphatically. ‘You’d better get going,’ she said. ‘I can see a big cloud of dust over there on the trail. Looks like McLeod’s not too far away.’

  Aware that help could be near at hand, Raymond started to struggle again until Connell threatened to knock him unconscious with a gun butt and tie him on a horse. Reluctantly the captive mounted his horse.

  Crossley-Hunt ran back into the office and reappeared with a Winchester and a box of ammunition. ‘We might need these,’ he said, as he mounted.

  ‘We’ll need them sooner than you think, if we don’t get moving,’ Connell reminded him. Then, as the trio turned their mounts for Alder Creek, he told Raymond, ‘Don’t try any tricks. This horse of mine will catch yours in two jumps if you try to get away and I’ll blow you out of the saddle. This is the only warning you’re getting.’

  The rancher knew he was not joking and quickly put spurs to his mount fearful of being left behind. As they went out the back gate of the ranch, McLeod, Coventry and a dozen men were reining in their horses at the Diamond R ranch house.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  The posse halted only briefly at the Diamond R. As instructed, Prudence told the sheriff that Jensen had been killed in a gunfight with Crossley-Hunt and Connell. When he heard that they were only minutes behind the pair and that Raymond had been taken prisoner, the sheriff was secretly pleased.

  As he led his party away, he said quietly to Coventry, ‘This is perfect. If we kill Raymond, we can blame it on the others. Of course, we have to kill them too, because Connell knows about the herd our joint venture is bringing in and even if he hasn’t told Crossways, we need him out of the way as well. We can always blame his death on a deputy who went bad, namely Connell. The English owners of the Diamond R are too far away to really know what’s going on. Before today’s out, if we play our cards right, we’ll have the Double T and the Diamond R right out of the game and the small ranchers well and truly on the run. Jack, old pard, this is working out better than I had hoped.’

  ‘Don’t get too excited, Monty. We need to kill at least three people first and they have a start on us. If they get to Alder Creek, we could have trouble.’

  ‘I’ve thought of that. Roberts and a couple of others are already selecting fresh horses from here. They’ll ride them to death if necessary to get close enough to pick off our men. Roberts has that long-range rifle of Chico’s and he’s a good shot.’

  The posse had scarcely travelled a mile when the deputy and two others overtook them on fresh horses and soon left them behind.

  Raymond was giving trouble. He deliberately slowed his horse and rode it on the roughest ground that he could, anything to delay his arrival at Alder Creek. Once the animal stumbled and he deliberately fell off.

  Connell called the dismounted rancher a few uncomplimentary names as he caught the loose horse.

  ‘I’ve busted something,’ Raymond wailed. ‘My arm hurts and I think I might have broken my shoulder. I can’t ride.’

  ‘Who cares?’ Connell growled. ‘I’m happy enough to throw you over the saddle and tie you there. Now get on that horse.’

  ‘Be quick about it,’ Crossley-Hunt said, as he pointed behind them.

  Three hard-riding horsemen had come into view. Even as the others watched, the foremost rider reined in his mount and jumped from the saddle hauling free a rifle as he went. A second later he was prone on the ground and selecting a target. The first shot hit Raymond’s horse before the sound of the rifle carried to them. The animal staggered, grunted and went down. Another bullet whined off a rock beside the Englishman.

  Connell acted quickly. He removed the lariat from his saddle and flipped a loop around their prisoner’s neck. He passed the other end of the rope to Crossley-Hunt. ‘If he tries to get away, drag him to death.’ After removing his carbine from the saddle, he ordered Raymond, ‘Get on my horse and do as Cliff says, or you’re going to get killed.’

  Another bullet kicked up dust at Connell’s feet as he loaded the protesting rancher onto the chestnut horse. The company man took up the slack of the rope and wound it around his saddle horn. ‘What are you planning, Tom?’

  ‘There’s a nice little nest of rocks over there. I’m going to hole up for a while. You get this coyote over to Alder Creek and bring back a bit of help. I could need it when the rest of that posse shows up. Now get going.’

  Reluctantly, Crossley-Hunt urged his horse up the range towing a very frightened prisoner behind him. The move caught the distant rifleman by surprise as he had not expected the party to split up. He wasted one shot at Connell and by that time the two riders were lost to sight among the pines on the hillside.

  Connell paused long enough to put a bullet into the head of the wounded horse and then sprinted across fifty yards of open ground to the position he had selected in the rocks.

 

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