Riding for the Brand (Ss) (1986) (3 page)

He turned. "I am tired"... He said. "I have ridden long and hard to get here. Now I'd like to rest."... He paused. "But I shall stay, at least his Jed Asbury was already fast asleep when Carol went into the dining room where Tony Costa sat at the long table. Without him, what would she have done? What could she have done? He had worked with her father for thirty years and had t lived on the hacienda all his life, and he was past sixty now. He still stood as erect and slender, not a young man. And he was shrewd.

Costa looked up. He was drinking coffee by the light of a candle. "For better or worse, Senorita, it has begun. What do you think now?"

"He told me, after I warned him, that he would stay."

Costa studied the coffee in his cup. "You are not afraid?"

"No. He faced Walt Seever and that was enough for me. Anything is to be preferred to Walt Seever."

"Si."... Costa's agreement was definite.

"Senorita, did you notice his hands when he faced Seever. They were ready, Carolita, ready to draw. This man has used a gun before. He is a strong man, Carolita!"

"Yes, I think you are right. He is a strong man."

For two days nothing happened from the direction of town. Walt Seever and his hard-bitten companions might have vanished from the earth, but on the Rancho Casa Grande much was happening, and Tony Costa was whistling most of the time.

Jed Asbury's formal education was slight, but he knew men, how to lead them and how best to get results. Above all he had practical knowledge of handling cattle and of range conditions.

He was up at five the morning after his discussion with Carol, and when she awakened, old Maria, the cook, told her the senior was hard at work in his office. The door was open a crack, and as she passed by she glimpsed him deep in the accounts of the ranch. Pinned up before him was a map of the Casa Grande holdings, and as he checked the disposition of the cattle, he studied the map.

He ate a hurried breakfast and at eight o'clock was in the saddle. He ate his next meal at a line camp and rode in long after dark. In two days he spent twenty hours in the saddle.

On the third day he called Costa to the office and sent Maria to request the presence of Carol.

Puzzled and curious, she joined them.

Jed wore a white shirt, black trousers, and the silver guns. His face seemed to have thinned down in just the two days, but when he glanced at her, he smiled.

"You have been here longer than I and are, in a sense, a partner."... Before she could interrupt he turned to Costa. "I want you to remain as foreman. However, I have asked you both to be here as I plan some changes."

He indicated a point on the map. "That narrow passage leads into open country and then desert. I found cattle tracks there, going out.

It might be rustlers. A little blasting up in the rocks will close that gap."

"It is a good move"... Costa agreed.

"This field "Jed indicated a large area in a field not far from the house, "must be fenced off.

We will plant it to flax."

"Flax, Senor?"

"There will be a good market for it."... He indicated a smaller area. "This piece we will plant to grapes, and all that hillside will support them.

There will be times when we cannot depend on cattle or horses, so there must be other sources of income."

I Carol watched in wonderment. He was moving fast, this new Michael Latch. He had grasped the situation at once and was moving to make changes that Uncle George had only thought about.

"Also, Costa, we must have a roundup. Gather the cattle and cut out all those over four years old, and we'll sell them. I saw a lot of cattle from five to eight years old back there in the brush."

After he had ridden away to study another quarter of the ranch, Carol walked to the blacksmith shop to talk to Pat Flood. He was an old seafaring man with a pegleg whom Uncle George had found broke and on the beach in San Francisco and who had proved to be a marvel with tools.

He looked up from under his bushy brows as she stopped at the shop. He was cobbling a pair of boots. Before she could speak he said, "This here new boss, Latch? Been to sea, ain't he?"

Surprised, she said, "What gave you that idea?"

"Seen him throw a bowline on a bight yesterday.

Purtiest job I seen since comin' ashore.

He made that rope fast like he'd been doin' it for years."

"I expect many men handle ropes well"... She commented.

"Not sailor fashion. He called it a line, too.

"Hand me that line!" he says. Me, I been ashore so long I'm callin' them ropes more'self, but not him. I'd stake my supper that he's walked a deck."

Jed Asbury was riding to town. He wanted to assay the feeling of the townspeople toward the ranch, toward George Baca and Walt Seever.

There was a chance he might talk to a few people before they discovered his connection. Also, he was irritated at the delay in the showdown with Seever. His appearance in town might force that showdown or allow Seever an opportunity if he felt he needed one. If there was to be a meeting he wanted it over with so he could get on with work at the ranch.

He had never avoided trouble. It was his nature to go right to the heart of it, and for this trip he was wearing worn gray trousers, boots, his silver guns, and a battered black hat. He hoped they would accept him as a drifting puncher.

Already, in riding around the ranch and in casual talk with the hands, he had learned a good deal. He knew the place to go in town was the Golden Strike. He tied his horse to the hitching rail and went inside.

Three men loafed at the bar. The big man with the scar on his lip was Harry Strykes, who had ridden with Seever. As Jed stepped to the bar and ordered his drink, a man seated at a table got up and went to Strykes. "Never saw him before"... He said.

Strykes went around the man and faced Jed.

"So? Cuttin' in for yourself, are you? Well, nobody gets in the way of my boss. Go for your gun or go back to Texas. You got a choice!"

"I'm not going to kill you"... Jed said. "I don't like your manner, but if you touch that gun I'll have to blow your guts out. Instead, I'd rather teach you a lesson."

His left hand grabbed Strykes by the belt. He shoved back and then lifted, and his left toe kicked Strykes's foot from under him as Jed lifted on the belt and then let go.

The move caught Strykes unaware, and he hit the floor hard. For an instant he was shaken, but then he came off the floor with a curse.

Jed Asbury had taken up his drink with his left hand, leaning carelessly against the bar. Jed's left foot was on the brass rail, and as Strykes swung his right fist, Jed straightened his leg, moving himself out from the bar so that the punch missed, throwing Strykes against the bar. As his chest hit the bar Jed flipped the remainder of his drink into Strykes's eyes.

Moving away from the bar he made no attempt to hit Strykes, just letting the man paw at the stinging whiskey in his eyes. When he seemed about to get his vision cleared, Jed leaned forward and jerked open Strykes's belt. Strykes's pants slid toward his knees, and he grabbed at them. Jed pushed him with the tips of his fingers.

With his pants around his knees Strykes could not stagger, so he fell.

Jed turned to the others in the room. "Sorry to have disturbed you, gentlemen! The name is Mike Latch. If you are ever out to the Casa Grande, please feel free to call."

He walked out of the saloon, leaving laughter behind him as Strykes struggled to get up and pull his pants into place.

Yet he was remembering the man who had stepped up to Strykes saying he had never seen Jed before. Had that man known the real Mike Latch?

If Walt Seever knew of the covered wagon with its three murdered people, he would know Jed Asbury was an impostor and would be searching for a way to prove it. The vast and beautiful acres of Rancho Casa Grande were reason enough.

Riding homeward he mulled over the problem.

There was, of course, a chance of exposure, yet no one might ever come near who could actually identify him.

His brief altercation with Strykes had gotten him nowhere. He had undoubtedly been observed when riding into town, and the stranger must have known the real Latch. Nevertheless, the fight, if such it could be called might have won a few friends. In the first place he could not imagine a man of Seever's stamp was well liked; in the second he had shown he was not anxious to get into a gun battle. Friends could be valuable in the months to come, and he was not catering to the rowdy element who would be Seever's friends.

Seever, however, would now be spoiling for a fight, and Jed might be killed. He must find a way to give Carol a strong claim on the ranch.

Failing in that, he must kill Walt Seever.

Jed Asbury had never killed a man except to protect his own life or those close to him.

Deliberately to hunt down and shoot a man was something he had never dreamed of doing, yet it might prove the only way he could protect Carol and Tony Costa. With a shock he realized he was thinking more of Carol than of himself, and he hardly knew her.

Apparently the stranger had known he was not Mike Latch. The next time it might be a direct accusation before witnesses. Jed considered the problem all the way home.

Unknown to Jed, Jim Pardo, one of the toughest hands on the ranch, had followed him into town. On his return, Pardo drew up before the blacksmith shop and looked down at Pat Flood. The gigantic old blacksmith would have weighed well over three hundred pounds with two good legs, and he stood five inches over six feet. He rarely left the shop, as his wooden leg was always giving him trouble.

"He'll do"... Pardo said, swinging down.

Flood lit his corncob pipe and waited.

"Had a run-in with Harry Strykes."

Flood drew on the pipe, knowing the story would come.

"Made a fool of Harry."

"Whup him?"

"Not like he should of, but maybe this was "Strykes will kill him for that."

Pardo rolled a cigarette and explained. "If Strykes is smart he will leave him alone. This here Latch is no greenhorn. He's a man knows what he can do. No other would have handled it like he did. Never turned a hair when Strykes braced him. He's got sand in his gizzard, an'

I'm placin' my bets that he'll prove a first-class hand with a shootin' iron. This one's had trouble before."

"He's deep"... Flood said, chewing on his pipe stem.

"Old George always said Latch was a book reader, an' quiet-like."

"Well"... Flood was thoughtful, "He's quiet enough, an' he reads books."

Tony Costa learned of the incident from Pardo, and Maria related the story to Carol. Jed made no reference to it at supper.

Costa hesitated after arising from the table.

"Senor, since Senor Baca's death the senorita has permitted me to eat in the ranch house.

There was often business to discuss. If you wish, I can.. "Forget it, and unless you're in a hurry, sit down. Your years on the ranch have earned you your place at the table."

Jed took up the pot and filled their cups.

"Yesterday I was over in Fall Valley and I saw a lot of cattle with a Bar O brand."

"Bar O? Ah, they try it again! This brand, Besovi's ranch. He is a big man, Senor, a very troublesome man. Always he tries to move in on that valley, but if he takes that he will want more.

He has taken many ranches, so."

"Take some of the boys up there and throw those cattle off our range."

"There will be trouble, Senor."

"Are you afraid of trouble, Costa?"

The foreman's face tightened. "No, Senor!"

"Neither am I. Throw them off."

When the punchers moved out in the morning, Jed mounted a horse and rode along. And there would be trouble. Jed saw that when they entered the valley.

Several riders were grouped near a big man with a black beard. Their horses all carried the Bar O brand.

"I'll talk to him, Costa. I want to hear what Besovi has to say."

"Very bad man"... Costa warned.

Jed Asbury knew trouble when he saw it.

Besovi and his men had come prepared for a showdown. Jed did not speak, he simply pushed his black against Besovi's gray. Anger flared in the big man's eyes. "What the hell are you tryin' to do?" He roared.

"Tell your boys to round up your Bar O cattle and run them back over your line. If you don't, I'll make you run "em back, afoot!"

"What?"

Besovi was incredulous. "You say that to me?"

"I'll see you in hell first"... Besovi shouted.

Jed Asbury knew this could be settled in two ways. If he went for a gun there would be shooting and men would be killed. He chose the other way.

Acting so suddenly the move was unexpected, he grabbed Besovi by the beard and jerked the rancher sharply toward him, at the same time he kicked the rancher's foot loose from his stirrup and then shoved hard. Besovi, caught unawares by the sheer unexpectedness of the attack, fell off his horse, and Jed hit the ground beside him.