Showdown On the Hogback (1991) (13 page)

"What?"

Keith came to his feet, his face ashen. This was beyond his calculations. When the idea had first been brought to his attention, it had seemed a very simple, easy way to turn a fast profit. He had excellent connections in Washington through his military career, and with Burwick managing things on the other end and Gunter with the money, it seemed impossible to beat it. He was sure to net a handsome sum, clear his business with Gunter and Burwick, and then return east and live quietly on the profits. That it was a crooked deal did not disturb him, but that his friends in the East might learn of it did!

"Ransome!" His voice was shocked. "Of all people!"

Frederic Ransome had served with him in the war, and their mutual relationship had been something less than friendly. There had been that episode by the bridge.

He flushed at the thought of it, but Ransome knew, and Ransome would use it as a basis for judgment. Kedrick had no way of knowing just bow fortunate his choice of Ransome had been.

"That does it!" He got to his feet.

"Ransome will bust this wide open, and love it!"

He was frightened, and Burwick could see it. He sat there, his gross body filling the chair, wearing the same soiled shirt. His eves followed Keith with irritation and contempt. Was Keith going bad on him now?

"Get back there," Burwick said to Hirst, "and keep me informed of the movements. Watch everything closely now, and don't miss a trick. You will be paid."

When Hirst had gone, Burwick turned to Keith and smiled with his fat lips. "So does it matter if they slow it up a little? Let them have their investigation. It will come too late."

"Too late?" Keith was incredulous. "With such witnesses against us as Kedrick, Shad, Connie, and the rest of them?"

"When the time comes," Burwick said quietly, "there will be no witnesses! Believe me, there won't be!"

Chapter
11

Keith turned on Burwick, puzzled by the sound of his voice. "What do you mean?" he asked.

Burwick chuckled and rolled his fat lips on his cigar. There was malice and some contempt in the look he gave Keith. How much better, he thought, had Kedrick not been so namby-pamby. He was twice the man Keith was, for all the latter's commanding presence.

"Why," he said, "if there's no witnesses, there'll be no case. What can these people in town tell them? What they suspect? Suspicions won't stand in a court of law, or with that committee. By the time they get here, this country will be peaceful and quiet, believe me."

"What do you mean to do?" Keith demanded.

"Do? What is there to do? Get rid of Kedrick, Laredo Shad, and that girl. Then you'll take a posse and clean out that rat's nest back of the rim. Then who will they talk to? Gunter might have weakened, but he's dead. With the rest of them out of it-was "Not Connie!" Keith protested. "Not her! For heaven's sake, man!"

Burwick snorted, and his lips twisted in an angry sneer as he heaved his bulk from the chair.

"Yes, Connie!" he said. "Are you a complete fool, Keith? Or have you gone soft? That girl knows more than all of them! Suppose Gunter talked to her, and he most likely did?

She'll know everything, everything, I tell you!"

He paced back across the room, measuring Keith. The fool! He was irritated and angry.

He couldn't understand the sort of men they made these days, a weak and snivelling crowd. Keith had played out his time. If he finished this job alive--

Dornie didn't like Keith. Burwick chuckled suddenly. Dornie! Now there was a man! The way he had killed that Bob
McLennon
! "Now get this. Get the boys together. Get Fessenden, Goff, Clauson, Poinsett, and the Mixus boys and send them out with Dornie. I want those three killed, you hear me? I want them dead before the week is out.

And no bodies, understand?"

Keith touched his dry lips, his eyes haunted.

He had bargained for nothing like this. It had all seemed such an easy profit, with only a few poverty-stricken squatters to prevent them from acquiring wealth in a matter of a few months. And everything had started off just as Burwick had suggested; everything had gone so well. Gunter had provided the money, and he had fronted for them in Washington.

Uneasily now, Keith realized that if trouble was made over this, it would be he, himself, upon whom the blame would rest. Burwiek somehow had been in the background in the East as much as he, Keith, had been kept in the background here. Yet it would be his guilt if anything went wrong. And with Ransome investigating, everything had gone wrong.

Of course, he sighed deeply, Burwick was right. There was oily one thing to do now. At least Dornie and the others would not hesitate. Suddenly, he remembered something.

"You mentioned Clauson. He's out of it, Burwick. Clauson came in last night, tied to his horse. He had been dead for hours. his "What?" Burwick stopped his pacing and walked up to Keith. "You just remembered?" He held his face inches away from Keith's and glared. "Is anybody backtracking that horse? You blithering idiot! Clauson was dynamite with a gun, so if he's dead, shot, it had to be by one of three men, and you know it!" Burwick's face was dark with passion, and he wheeled and walked the length of the room, swearing in a low, violent voice that shocked Keith with its deep, underlying passion. When he turned again, Burwick's eyes were ugly with fury.

"Can't you realize," he demanded hoarsely, "those men are dangerous?

"Don't you see that every second they are alive we are in danger? You have seen Dornie in action.

Well, believe me, I'd sooner have him after me than Kedrick. I know Kedrick! He's a former Army officer-that's what you're thinking all the time an officer and a gentleman!

"But he's something more, do you hear? He's more.

He's a gentleman-that's true enough-but the man's a fighter. He loves to fight! Under all that calmness and restraint, there's a drive and power that Dornie Shaw could never equal. Dornie may be faster, and I think he is, but don't you forget for one instant that Kedrick won't be through until he's down, down and dead!"

Loren Keith was shocked. In his year's association with Burwick he had never seen the man in a passion and had never heard him speak with such obvious respect and
even yes
-even fear, of any man. What had Alton Burwick seen that he himself had not seen?

He stared at Burwick, puzzled and annoyed, but some of the man's feeling began to transmit itself to him, and he became distinctly uneasy. He bit his lips and watched Burwick pacing angrily.

"It's not only him, but it's Shad, that cool, thin-faced Texan. As for Laine"-Burwick's eyes darkened-"he may be the worst of the lot. He thinks he has a personal stake in this."

"Personal?" Keith looked inquiringly at the older man. "What do you mean?" Burwick dismissed the question with a gesture. "No matter. They must go, all of them, and right now." He turned and his eyes were cold. "Keith, you fronted for us in Washington. If this thing goes wrong, you're the one who will pay. Now go out there and get busy. You've a little time, and you've the men. Get busy!"

When he had gone, Burwick dropped into his chair and stared blindly before him. It had gone too far to draw back now even if he was so inclined, and he was not.

The pity of it was that there had been no better men to be had than Keith and Gunter.

Yet, everything could still go all right, for he would know how to meet any investigating committee, how to
soft-pedal
the trouble and turn it off into a mere cow-country quarrel of no moment and much exaggerated.

The absence of any
complaining
witness would leave them helpless to proceed, and he could make it seem a mere teapot tempest. Keith was obviously afraid of Ransome. Well he was not.

Burwick was still sitting there when the little cavalcade of horsemen streamed by, riding out of town on their blood trail. The number had been augmented, he noticed, by four new arrivals, all hard, desperate men. Even without Keith they might do the job. He heaved himself to his feet and paced across the room, staring out the window. It went badly with him to see Connie Duane die, for he had plans for Connie-maybe. His eyes narrowed. Out on the desert the wind stirred restlessly, and in the brassy sky above, a lone buzzard circled as if aware of the creeping tension that was slowly gripping the country beneath it.

Far to the north, toward Durango, a cattle buyer pulled his team to a halt and studied the sky.

There was no hint of storm, yet he had felt uneasy ever since leaving town on his buying trip down to Yellow Butte and Mustang. There had been rumors of trouble down that way, but then, there had been intermittent trouble there for some time, and he was not alarmed. Yet he was somehow uneasy, as though the very air carried a warning. South of him, and below the rim, Laredo Shad and Kedrick turned aside from the Mustang trail and headed toward Yellow Butte. It was only a little way out of their line of travel, but both men wanted to see what had happened there. Yet when they approached the town, aside from the blackened ruins of the destroyed buildings, everything seemed peaceful and still. Eight or ten families had moved back into the town, and a few had never left. They looked up warily as the two riders drew near. Then they nodded a greeting. They knew now that these two were siding with them against the company, but hardship and struggle had wearied them, and they watched the two enter the settlement without excitement. The saloon had opened its doors in the large, roomy
office
of the livery stable, and they went there now. A couple of men leaned on the bar, and both turned as they entered, greeted them, and returned to their conversation.

It was growing cool outside, and the warmth of the room felt good. Both men stepped to the bar, and Kedrick ordered and paid. Shad toyed with his drink. He seemed uneasy, and finally he turned to Tom. "I don't like it," he said, low voiced. "Somehow or other Burwick is goin' to know about Ransome, an' he'll be in a sweat to get Connie out of the way, an' you an' me with her."

Kedrick agreed, for his own mind had been reading sign along the same trail. The only way out for the company now was to face the committee, if Ransome managed one, with a plausible tale and an accomplished fact and then let them make the most of it.

"Burwick's a snake," Shad commented.

"He'll never quit wigglin' until the sun goes down for the last time. Not that one. He's in this deep, an' he ain't the man to lose without a fight. his Horses' hooves sounded on the road outside, and when they turned, Pit Lame and Dai Reid were dismounting before the door. They walked in, and Laine looked at Kedrick and then moved on to the bar.

Dai looked worried, but said nothing. After a minute, Laine turned suddenly and went outside.

"What's the matter?" Kedrick asked.

"It be worry, boy, and some of it shame, an' all for that sister of his. Who would think it of her?

To go over to the other side? He's that shy about it, you would scarce believe. When a man looks at him, he thinks it's his sister
they
are thinkin' on and how she sold out to that traitor to mankind, that rascal Keith."

Kedrick shrugged. "Ambition and money do strange things. She has the makings of a woman, too."

Laine opened the door. "Better come out," he said. "We've got trouble."

They crowded outside. Men were hurrying toward the houses, their faces grave. "What is it?"

Kedrick asked quickly.

"Burt Williams signaled from the top of the butte. There's riders coming from Mustang, a bunch of then."

As they looked, the small dark figure of a man appeared on the edge of the mesa once more. This time they saw his arm wave, once-twice-three times, and continue until he had waved it six times. When he had completed, he gestured to the southeast. Then he signaled four more times from the southwest.

"Ten riders," Laine spat. "Well, we've got more than that here, but they aren't as
salty
as that crowd."

Burt Williams, favoring his broken arm, knelt behind a clump of brush on top of Yellow Butte and studied the approaching horsemen through the glass. He knew all in this group by sight but not by favor. One by one he named them off to himself, "Keith, Dornie Shaw, Fessenden an'
Coff Poinsett
." He scowled. "No, that ain't Poinsett. That's one of the Mixus boys.

Yep, an' there's the other."

He swung his glass. The four riders, spaced well apart, were approaching at a steady pace.

None of their faces were familiar. He stared at them a while, but finally placed only one of them, a bad man from Durango who ran with Port Stockton and the Ketchum outfit. His name was Brokow.

Stirred, he searched the
country
all around the town for other movement. Then he turned back to the larger cavalcade of riders. Had he held on a certain high flat a minute longer he would have seen two unmounted men cross it at a stooping run and drop into the wide arroyo northeast of town. As it was, he had been studying the approaching group for several minutes before he realized that Poinsett was not among them. He was with neither group.

Worried, Williams squinted his eyes against the sun, wondering how he could apprise them of the danger down below, for the absence of Poinsett disturbed him.