How the West Was Won (1963) (31 page)

The cage which carried the miners down into the mine was topped by a large metal bucket, or hopper, that would hold five tons of ore. As this came to the top, the bucket was tripped and the ore spilled into a huge bin from which it ran into the ore wagons below. A wagon was driven up beneath a chute, the door was lifted, and the rock ran into the wagon until it was filled. Then the metal door was dropped in place, cutting off the flow.

The hoisting-engine chugged away, shooting up a white cloud of steam. Lanterns hung about, and these had already been lighted although the evening was young. Linus ran toward the edge of the shaft to look down, and Zeb called him back. You stay close to me, he said sternly. That shaft's a thousand feet deep. If you had two hundred brothers down there, each one standing on another's shoulders, they wouldn't reach the top.

You ever work in a mine, pa?

Some ... not any so good as this one, by all accounts. I worked in low-grade gold ... a good bit of it was there, but I never saw any of it. All we miners ever saw was broken rock.

Is this always the way they get the ore out?

No, for some kinds of ore they use a conveyor system, a lot of little buckets on an endless chain. But in a mine this deep that isn't practical. It's mostly used in coal mines. Men push ore cars to the edge of the shaft and dump them in a pocket, a big hole covered by steel rails, they call a grizzly.' The man who operates the cage fills that bucket you see on top of the cage at those pockets and hoists it on top.

As he spoke he was watching a man who came out of the assay office. It had become dark as they walked about, and he could not quite distinguish the man's face, but when he stepped into the light of a lantern, Zeb saw it was Charlie Gant. Gant saw him at the same instant, and after a moment's hesitation, he started over.

Boys, Zeb suggested to the children, you go in the hoisting-engine room and look at the steam engine. I'll be along in a minute. Gant walked up to him. Evenin', Rawlings. Marshal tells me you had a word with him. Now, would you call that friendly?

I never thought of us as friendly.

I ain't lookin' for trouble, Gant said, but if you'd like to put it on the old basis, just you an' me, that's fine.

I've no reason to fight you, Gant, as long as you obey the law and stay out of the way. Floyd and I had differences that were strictly a matter of law. They're settled. As far as that's concerned, I've finished. You went to the marshal.

Of course. Zeb tapped the badge on his chest. I still wear it, and when you come around I'm suspicious. Other than that, I've nothing to do with it. This is Lou Ramsey's problem. I'm not asking for trouble. So it's peace you want, Marshal? His tone changed. There'll be only one peace for you, Rawlings, the kind my brother got.

What hapened to him didn't teach you much, did it?

Easy, Marshal. Anger burned in Gant's eyes. I wouldn't push my luck. Floyd made mighty few mistakes ... except the time he depended on you. And you were the one who got away.

Gant held himself still. Zeb Rawlings could see the anger that flared in him, but Gant controlled himself, although not without effort. For several minutes he was silent, watching the ore bucket come up, dump, and go back down the shaft again.

I don't like you, Marshal, he said finally. I don't like what you and your kind have done to this country, and are doin' to it. Used to be a man felt free around here, now a man can hardly breathe.

I haven't noticed any honest men having trouble. One of these days, Rawlings, I'll pay you Rawlingses a visit. I'll pay you a visit you'll never forget.

Turning on his heel, he strode away, and after a minute, Zeb called to the boys, who had waited not far off. It was not until he called them that he noticed each boy held a large chunk of rock. Surreptitiously, they dropped them. He smiled, but made no comment.

What did he mean, pa?

Nothin' much, boys. But you know how womenfolks worry about such things. I want you to make me a promise-a real promise-not to say a word to ma about this. Will you, Prescott?

I promise.

Linus?

Sure, I promise, and I bet I keep it better than Prescott!

Good! Now let's go back down the mountain.

They walked together down the hill, and Zeb moved along easily, but with all his old alertness. Charlie Gant had something more important than revenge on his mind just now, but one could never tell ... there were times when emotion defeated reason, and Charlie Gant was a man who knew how to hate. Zeb strolled along with the boys, liking the coolness of the evening air after the heat of the day. That was one thing you could say for the desert. It was like a man with a quick temper: it cooled off fast once the sun went down. The windows were lighted, and men stood along the walk, talking and smoking. Down at the far end of the street a few children played tag, and horses at the hitch-rail stood three-legged ... waiting. Inside the saloons there was a rattle of chips, and the sounds of men at cards.

Zeb paused outside the hotel and let the boys go up by themselves. It was a good life, he thought, and this was a part he had always enjoyed, this business of coming out and taking stock of a town. Yet how quickly one learned to sense trouble. It was an instinct one acquired. Only he was not the marshal here-that was Lou Ramsey's job.

He thought back again to the rifle and pistol left by the strange rider, and the message. If that old outlaw had left it, it was a curious mark of respect, something that went beyond the law or lawlessness. Of course, it had been that way in the old days, and still was, in a way. The men on both sides of the law had known each other, often respected each other. Sometimes a sheriff was himself a reformed outlaw, but that made no difference.

What was mutually respected was courage, fair play, ingenuity, and ability. How many times he had sat in a ranch house and heard a rancher tell admiringly of the slick way he had been outfoxed by cow-thieves. And there were many stories about how clever Indians became at stealing horses, which was their favorite sport.

Like the time the soldier was sent out to graze the regimental race horse. He had the horse on a picket rope, but he did not even take a chance of picketing it. To be sure the horse was safe, he held one end of the rope. It was a bright, sunny day, and the grass was good and green. The horse cropped grass and the soldier watched, and then all of a sudden he realized he was holding a rope's end and nothing more. The horse had been stolen right before his eyes.

Had he blinked? Closed his eyes for a moment, looked away without realizing?

Anyway, the horse was gone, and they never saw it again. A cowhand passed behind him. Evenin', he said, and Zeb answered. A tin-panny piano started down the street, and in the restaurant a dish was dropped and broke. Zeb Rawlings stood there, at peace with the night. Old Jethro was dead, then ... Lamar Valley. They'd have to go up that way sometime. Julie said her pa had often talked of going back up there. There was some little valley off the headwaters of the Yellowstone that he wanted to see again. And likely that was it.

Prescott came to the door. Pa? Ma says they're going to eat supper. You want to come in?

Sure, son.

They were already at table, but it took him a moment to realize that the beautiful young woman with Lilith was truly his wife. She had done something to her hair, and he had never seen it more lovely. Also, she was wearing a dress he had never seen before-one of Lilith's, no doubt. He felt a little pang, realizing he had never been able to afford such a dress for her. And likely never would. Folks expected a lot of their law officers, but they never liked to pay them for it.

He walked up to the table, keeping his eyes from Julie. Aunt Lil, how soon will Julie be coming down? I sure want- Zeb! Julie interrupted.

What! he exclaimed in mock astonishment. Why, Julie! I'd never have known you! And I never saw you look more beautiful.

She knew he was faking his amazement, but she was pleased. Do you really like it?

Of course-and thanks, Lilith. I detect your San Francisco hand in this. It does a woman good to change her looks once in a while-the way she does her hair ... something ...

If this is a sample, I'll accept your judgment, he said. He glanced at Lilith approvingly. You don't need any changes, Lilith. She looked at him thoughtfully. This nephew of hers had a quality she liked. You're going to have a free hand with the ranch, Zeb, but we aren't going to have much capital. I came away from San Francisco with very little. I've never had much capital, he said quietly. We'll get along. What I was thinking, Lilith said, was that it may be necessary for you to devote all your time to the ranch.

He chuckled. Ah! Now I see. You and Julie have had your heads together: How can we get him to stop this marshaling business and settle down? Zeb looked at them seriously. I'll be glad to settle down whenever I can. Men serve as they can. I do not have the education to help make the laws-one thing I can do, is enforce them.

Julie doesn't like me to wear a gun. I'll take it off when I can-until then it will be necessary for the men of peace to have guns, as long as men of violence do. We can't put all the force in the hands of evil. He smiled at Julie. You'll be glad to know-Charlie Gant is leaving town.

Chapter
21

Zeb Rawlings rolled out of bed at daybreak, as had been his custom for years. The hotel room in which they had spent the night was furnished with one chair, a stand for the bowl and water pitcher, with a small mirror above it, and the bed itself-that was all.

Always a quiet man, he dressed with special care this morning, not wishing to wake Julie. In his sock feet he stepped over to the window and looked out. At this hour the street was relatively empty, for the sun had not yet come over the mountains. But down there on the boardwalk a man was loafing, smoking a cigarette. On the ground near his feet were the butts of several cigarettes-he must have been there some time.

Lifting his eyes, Zeb looked toward the mine. There a wagon was drawn up, and men were loading it. A guard with a shotgun sat on the wagon seat, and two mounted guards were nearby.

The man in the street turned his head slightly and Zeb saw that he was one of those who had been at the station to meet Charlie Gant. It was falling into place, each neat, carefully planned piece of it. So neat, and yet so obvious. Zeb went over to the chair, sat down, and tugged on his boots. Taking up his hat, coat, and gun belt, he went to the door, opened it carefully, and stepped out into the hall. In the bathroom at the end of the hall he buckled on the gun belt, bathed his hands and face, and then slipped into his coat. All these actions required time, but it was time that Zeb needed. He would first see how the boys had gotten along in their wagon, but his mind was not on them, but on Charlie Gant and the gold.

From long experience, he could almost chart the steps to be taken, just as he had been sure there would be a lookout in the street to be sure the gold shipment did pull away from the mine and was loaded on the train. The telegraph was valuable to the law; it was also a great help to outlaws. The lobby was empty when he walked through, and when he stepped out on the boardwalk, the watcher was gone. Up the street, and some distance away, Zeb saw the gold wagon driving toward the station, which lay just outside of town. By the time it reached the station, or within a minute or two afterward, the lookout would be at the station too, or within sight of it. Down the street in front of the Bon-Ton Restaurant a man in an apron was sweeping the boardwalk. Sunlight fell between the buildings, and at the end of the walk his broom moved in and out of the sunlight. Linus and Prescott were just waking up and Zeb sat with them and smoked a cigar while they washed at the livery-stable pump.

Off in the distance a train whistled ... the east-bound train which passed through only a short time before the westbound train which would pick up the gold. Whatever was to be done about Charlie Gant had to be done now. Sitting there on the bench by the livery stable, he made up his mind about that. Not that he hadn't reached the same conclusion hours ago, but he had to study the situation for a possible alternative.

If he was let alone, Charlie would do what he had come to do, and then he would be free to locate Zeb Rawlings, and never so long as Gant lived would Zeb or any of his family live in security. There would be times when he would have to be away from the ranch, and most of the time he would be out on the range ... his family would be alone, virtually helpless if Gant chose to strike at him through his family, and Gant was such a man.

When Zeb walked into the hotel dining room with the boys, Lou Ramsey was there, seated at the table with Aunt Lilith and Julie. He got up, his face stern. I had a visit from Charlie Gant last night, Ramsey said. I don't like it, Zeb.

Well?

He said he saw you. That you were looking for trouble.

You believe that?

Lou Ramsey looked at him angrily. Zeb, it doesn't matter whether I believe it. You're taking your trouble to your own territory. You're not going to make trouble for me here. I won't have it, Zeb.

There won't be any more. Gant's gone. He rode out before daylight this morning.

Ramsey hesitated, startled and displeased by the information, even though half expecting it. Alone?

You know better than that. He took his outfit with him, and you know as well as I do they'll be somewhere between here and Kingman, waiting for that train. Zeb paused, then went ahead. Lou, if I could have three deputies ... or even two. To get on that train with me.