Red diamond rustlers, p.2
Red Diamond Rustlers, page 2
‘It’s good you take your responsibility seriously but I just stopped to rest my horse.’
‘Seemed to us that you were studying them closely, counting them, perhaps.’
‘Why would I do that?’
‘To know how many men were needed to run them across the border.’
‘I’m not a rustler.’
‘Perhaps we’ll let Mr Sawyer decide that.’
The man shrugged and, sandwiched between the two Red Diamond riders, allowed himself to be escorted to Titus Sawyer’s rugged little ranch house.
When he saw the riders approaching, Titus Sawyer squinted his eyes and used a hand to blot out the sun’s glare. Zig Braun’s black-tailed roan was known to him, as was the skittish little animal that Mustang Moore always claimed was the best horse on the ranch, but his attention was fixed on the big sorrel in the middle. Its build and stride pattern were in direct contrast to the quick light footwork of the other two. Not only did the animal not belong to his remuda, it had never been schooled to work cattle. The rider, he figured, must be a Braceville townsman, but the closer he got the more sure he was that he was mistaken.
‘Caught him spying on our herd up by the high trees pasture,’ Zig told his boss when the horses came to a halt just inside the ranch yard.
‘Spying!’
‘Denied it, of course. Told us he’d stopped to rest his horse.’
Titus directed a question at the man in the middle on whom his eyes had been fixed since his arrival. ‘Didn’t you tell them your name?’
‘They didn’t ask.’
‘Ornery as your father,’ said Titus.
‘That’s funny,’ the man said, ‘he told me that you were the ornery one in the family.’
A Titus Sawyer grin was a rare event. ‘Guess you’re Rufe’s boy, but your face is already proof of that.’ To Zig and Mustang he said, ‘You can put the guns away. This is my nephew, Frank. He might be hanging around the place for a few days.’
‘Sorry for not speaking up,’ Frank told them, ‘but I got here quicker with your guidance.’
‘Get back out to the herd,’ Titus told his workmen, then led Frank into the ranch house.
When the formalities were over, and a meal had been dished up and eaten, Frank and his uncle sat on the long west-facing bench seat at the side of the house.
‘You got here real quick, Frank. I thought it might be another week before you showed up.’
‘I was at home when the telegraph operator brought your message. Pa said you wouldn’t have hollered for help if it wasn’t important. After I’d cleared up a couple of tasks I was free to come east. My partner’s capable of handling the other cases we have on our books. I caught a train to Silver City then hired the horse for the remainder of the trip.’
Titus wasn’t sure he liked the expression ‘hollered for help’, but he kept his thoughts inside his head. According to the letters he received from his brother, Frank had a well-established investigation bureau in San Francisco, and if he was as able as Rufe professed then he might have the necessary skill to discover the identities of the robbers who were currently a plague on the territory. On reflection, he supposed, ‘hollering for help’ was exactly what he’d done but, irrespective of the truth of that statement, his nephew had undertaken a long journey to reach the Red Diamond and deserved his patience for that alone.
‘In his letters, your pa says you’ve done some work for Wells Fargo.’
‘They employ me from time to time, use me to investigate robberies and track down those responsible.’
‘I guess what I need from you is something similar.’
‘I figured that from the way Zig and Mustang behaved. Rustlers?’
Titus nodded. ‘That’s right. Stock losses aren’t uncommon, of course; a cow taken here and there is usually the work of hungry drifters, but now and then somebody with more ambition takes a more sizeable bunch. Sometimes we catch them and sometimes we don’t.’
‘This time it’s different?’ asked Frank.
Titus told his nephew that the widespread raids were occurring with greater daring and regularity. ‘Willard Draysmith at the Wheel has lost a lot of stock, too,’ he informed his nephew. ‘We’d combine forces if we knew where and when the rustlers intended to strike next.’
‘You think they will come back?’
‘Willard has doubts. After the last raid he thinks they’ll be reluctant to risk returning to this territory.’
‘Why, what happened?’
Details of the massacre in the Comstocks were given.
‘We want the men responsible, Frank, but we’re not going to capture them until we know who they are and when they are likely to strike again.’
‘Are there no lawmen in the vicinity?’
‘Fred Hayes is the sheriff in Braceville. There’s not much he can do. We’re pretty sure the cattle are being driven beyond the Comstocks then across the big river, which is the limit of Fred’s jurisdiction. We need somebody who’s prepared to pick up the trail on the other bank, nose around and bring back the names of those responsible for stealing our cattle. My men are good and loyal workers but their skill is working cattle. Someone with different abilities is required. Do you think you can help?’
In such circumstances, Frank wasn’t the sort of man to give false hope so he merely told his uncle that he was prepared to undertake the task. ‘I’d like to talk to anyone with information about the raids,’ he said. ‘Those who know the places where cattle were stolen or who might have caught a glimpse of the rustlers. A map would be helpful, too,’ he added, ‘to give me an idea of the layout of this territory.’
‘My maps are in my head,’ Titus told him, ‘but tomorrow I’ll take you to the Wheel. You need to meet Willard Draysmith and he has a drawer full of maps. Tonight you can talk with Zig Braun and the boys but I don’t think they’ll be able to add anything to what I’ve told you. No one caught sight of the rustlers until the last raid.’
‘And all those men were slaughtered.’
Titus raised his eyebrows, giving his face an expression of astonishment. ‘That ain’t quite true. Young Linc Bywater’s proved to be tougher than anyone expected. He’s still in the care of the doctor but it looks like he’s going to pull through.’
‘Can I talk to him?’
‘Guess so, but that’ll mean a trip into Braceville.’
Titus’s prophecy that his crew would have nothing to add to what he’d already told Frank proved to be true, but next morning as he rode side by side with his uncle towards the Wheel, he did so in the knowledge that Zig Braun and the other riders of the Red Diamond were eager for him to locate the rustlers. Good men had been killed in that narrow Comstock gorge and their former comrades were eager to throw lead at those who had carried out that deed.
On the map that Willard Draysmith produced it was clear to see that the water of Beaver Creek ran through both his and Titus Sawyer’s ranches. The Wheel abutted the northern boundary of the Red Diamond spread and the Comstock Hills were a natural western boundary for both. The stolen cattle had been taken from grazing grounds close to the hills, so it was an easy assumption that they were hidden within the folds or had been driven right through and across the river beyond, which was the state border.
‘There are countless tracks through those hills,’ Willard told Frank, ‘and you might search a year before finding any cattle hidden among them, but my guess is that they’ve kept them running all the way to the big river. They’ll think themselves safe if they get across the border.’
Titus voiced his agreement but added a cautionary rejoinder. ‘Their problem would come when they tried to get the critters across. It’s not a friendly river. You need to know its mood before putting your stock at risk.’
‘That’s the point, though, Titus. It’s not their stock. They don’t care if they lose a few animals.’
Frank pointed at the map, indicating the unmarked land across the river. ‘What do we know about this territory?’ he asked.
‘According to the government it’s open range but Thomas Finniston claims it’s part of his Spur empire. Hoping that grazing cattle there will give him the right to it without laying out hard cash.’
‘Thomas Finniston is one of the richest men in the country with herds of many thousands,’ Titus informed his nephew. That information was unnecessary, however; the name of Thomas Finniston was known even in distant San Francisco.
‘Unlikely then that he is rustling your cattle.’
‘Absolutely.’
‘I wonder if he, too, is suffering losses.’
To his nephew, Titus Sawyer had described Braceville as a humble town that was no bigger than it needed to be. When they reached it, Frank had no cause for argument. It consisted of little more than two streets, one for commerce and the other for dwellings. Frank noted the premises of a barber, a baker and a saddler on one side of Grand Street, while a saloon, grain merchant and emporium were prominent traders on the other side. Titus touched his hat to several people as they rode the length of the street. One of those wore a star on his vest but Titus didn’t stop to introduce his nephew. The presence of Titus in Braceville was clearly a matter of interest to several townsmen who watched as he passed by. When he failed to stop at the emporium or Al Tasker’s Diamond Queen they were satisfied that they knew his destination.
Doctor Jones lived in a low, all-timber building that also served as his surgery. His raised voice carried to them from within even as the Sawyers dismounted and hitched their animals to an outside rail.
‘Hope that’s not our boy he’s bellowing at,’ Titus said, but there was humour in his tone. ‘The doctor’s a good man but he has a quick, volcanic temper. He’s likely to yell poor Linc into the death that the bullets failed to achieve.’
Shirtsleeves rolled up to his biceps revealed the fact that Theo Jones was a powerful man. His large head twisted in Titus Sawyer’s direction when the door opened and the fiery expression on his face eased somewhat when he identified the new arrival. He pushed a hand through his thick hair, which was beginning to turn grey above the ears.
‘This one,’ he pointed a hand at a pale, young man, ‘thinks he’ll be some use to you out at the Red Diamond.’ It seemed probable that if the young man lifted his hands from the table upon which they were firmly set, he would fall to the floor. ‘Tell him,’ the doctor said fiercely, ‘that he’s no good to you in the condition in which you now see him, and that if he insists upon riding he’ll be dead before he gets out of town.’
‘I want to be back at the ranch,’ insisted the patient.
‘Linc, the doctor is giving you good advice. Stay here until you’re fit. A few more days will make all the difference.’
‘Days!’ exploded Theo Jones. ‘Yesterday, Harry Benbow was here with his rod to measure him for a wooden box. It’ll be weeks before he’s capable of working again.’
‘Well,’ Titus said to Linc Bywater, his gruff voice resting over the doctor’s abrasive rant like soothing oil on a sore, ‘I reckon you need to stay here a while longer, but I promise we’ll get you back to the ranch as soon as the doctor says you’re fit enough to travel.’
‘I can’t just sit here, Mr Sawyer, I can’t.’
‘Sitting here is as good as sitting anywhere else,’ interrupted Doctor Jones. ‘Better in fact,’ he added. ‘Out at the Red Diamond you’ll be sitting all alone while the rest of the crew are chasing cows. Here, you have the pleasure of my company. You’ve been looked after well enough, haven’t you?’
If Linc Bywater had an answer that he was prepared to give voice to, it never came. At that moment the door opened and a girl carrying a cloth-covered tray came into the room.
‘And here’s Lulu with a meal for you. Looked after you for two weeks like a proper nurse and you just want to quit on her without a word of thanks.’
Lulu had large, dark eyes that, had they been lit by the merest glint of happiness, should have been an asset to the life of any young woman. They were, however, dull, and as there was no fullness to her cheeks, they gave her face a gaunt expression. This was added to by a long, tight-lipped mouth. Her clothes were not of the best style. Indeed, the short heavy jacket she was wearing could have been made for a large man but it had the effect of diverting attention away from the thin dress she wore underneath. It was too short to comply with the acceptable standards of the day, barely reaching her knees, and it had a red frilled hem that added a gaudy brightness to the black material.
Now, in response to the doctor’s words, her dark eyes widened and glanced towards young Linc Bywater. Although it was only momentary, it was a look noticed by everyone in the room. Instantly, she put the tray on the table and uncovered the bowl of soup that sat upon it.
‘Al Tasker has been sending soup from the Diamond Queen every day,’ Theo Jones explained. ‘Lulu seems to have been lumbered with the job of bringing it for my patient.’
‘It hasn’t been any trouble,’ Lulu said defensively. ‘Al just sends whoever is available.’
‘Sure,’ said the doctor who knew from comments in the Diamond Queen that she had volunteered to bring the food and had not only sat with Linc long after he’d had his fill from the bowl but also through the nights when he’d lain in troubled sleep.
‘He wants to go back to the Red Diamond,’ Theo said. ‘What do you think about that?’
‘He can’t be strong enough. He’s eaten nothing but a few spoonfuls of soup each day.’
‘There,’ Theo said to Linc. ‘Your nurse agrees with me. Why don’t you sit down and from tomorrow she’ll start bringing meat stew that will fill your belly and put colour in your face. When your cheeks are red you can go back to the ranch.’
Linc made one more effort to persuade the doctor and his employer that he should be allowed to return to the ranch. ‘I want to do something,’ he said. ‘I need to do something to brush away the images in my mind.’ Even as he spoke, the strength left his legs and he sank onto a chair.
‘Maybe you can help,’ said Frank Sawyer.
‘This is my nephew, Frank,’ Titus announced to everyone in the room.
Linc looked at the younger Sawyer with interest, wondering what help he could be to the newcomer.
‘Eat your food, Linc,’ Frank said, ‘then we’ll talk.’
Titus told Lulu that he would pay for the meals that were being supplied by the Diamond Queen but she dismissed his offer.
‘There’s always spare food,’ she said, ‘and the kind act is good for Mr Tasker’s reputation.’
‘In that case put an extra plate on the tray for me,’ said Theo Jones. The wide-eyed stare she turned on him expressed her belief that there was a limit to Al Tasker’s benevolence. ‘I’ll pay for it,’ he added.
When she’d gone, Frank took the seat she’d occupied while feeding Linc Bywater. ‘My uncle wants to find the men who staged the ambush that you were caught in,’ he said. ‘At the moment we have little information to go on. What do you remember about that day?’
For a moment it seemed that Linc had expended every ounce of energy. His eyes were heavy but his desire to help overcame his need for sleep. He spoke quietly.
‘Lon Foster found me and Jim Davis in the big meadow along Beaver Creek. He told us that Pete Hartley had come across some men driving our cattle west towards the hills. We gave chase but they must have had a lookout watching for pursuit. When we followed them into a narrow valley we realized too late that it was a trap. The cattle weren’t there, just gunmen on the slopes who were able to pick us off before we could reach our guns.’ He paused a moment, breathing heavily. Those gathered at his side were unsure if it was due to tiredness or the remembrance of the slaughter. ‘I guess the rest of their crew must have taken the cattle to the south of that hill while we were being lured to the north.’
‘What about the men who attacked you?’ Frank asked. ‘Can you remember anything about them, anything specific about anyone?’
‘I was shot in the first fusillade,’ he said. ‘I didn’t have time to see much.’
‘Is there anything at all you can tell us?’
‘It’s not much,’ he said, ‘but I seem to recall a man standing up when the firing began. He was wearing a long buckskin jacket and he had a neat, pointed beard.’
‘Was he fair or dark?’
‘Dark. I’m sure he was dark haired.’
Frank Sawyer nodded when he realized that Linc had no more information to impart.
‘I told you it wasn’t much,’ Linc said.
‘It’s more than we had. It’s a starting point.’
Frank’s eyes settled immediately on Lulu when he and Titus pushed through the batwings that gave them entrance to the Diamond Queen. She looked their way professionally – more customers to hustle, more silver to tease out of their pockets – but when she recognized them, the smile that had begun to stretch her freshly painted lips slipped away and she remained at the far end of the long bar. The rouge that had been applied to her cheeks since leaving the doctor’s house didn’t escape Frank’s notice, nor did the low cut of the dress that had mostly been hidden by the jacket she’d worn earlier. Although her eyes remained dark, unlit by any spark of joy, he detected a pugnacious, determined attitude to her demeanour.
Frank acknowledged her with a brief nod but his uncle was talking in a low voice, demanding his attention.
‘This is Fred Hayes,’ he said, looking in the mirror at the man who had followed them into the saloon. ‘He’s the sheriff here in Braceville. Whatever excuse he has for coming to speak to us his only real reason is to find out who you are.’
Fred Hayes cut an imposing figure. Apart from Frank, he was the tallest man in the room, three inches higher than Titus Sawyer, and he was broad-shouldered and free of unnecessary girth. A walnut-handled Colt sat snugly in an old holster on his right hip and the star that was fixed to his plain blue shirt shone prominently. ‘I’ve been expecting a visit from you,’ he said to the rancher.
‘Why would I do that?’
