Ed Brack rode down to Grebb’s place at Spring Creek. He didn’t like folks to know that he had any connection with Grebb. It might not do him much good and it hurt his pride a little. But he was mad all through and he had to take it out on somebody. Grebb was a tough one and thought he was a pretty big wheel so Grebb was a good target for Brack’s spleen.
He left his two hands outside, told them not to touch a drink if they valued their jobs and strode into the saloon. It was early yet and the place was almost empty. The man behind the bar told him that Mr. Grebb didn’t rise till late. Brack told him to get Grebb off his fat butt and hurry up about it. The man didn’t like the chore that had been handed to him, but he hurried up about it.
Five minutes later, Grebb appeared. He looked like a man who didn’t like to be aroused from his sleep till he was good and ready. But he put on a polite face for Brack. With him was his shadow, Charlie Stott. Charlie looked at Brack as a coyote looks at a wolf when they want to eat the same morsel.
Before Grebb could open his mouth, Brack barked: ‘I want to talk to you, Grebb. Alone.’
‘Sure,’ Grebb said. He didn’t like Brack’s tone in front of witnesses. He cut a big swathe around here. This kind of thing could undermine his authority. ‘Come into my office.’
He led the way to the rear of the building. Stott went to follow but Brack growled to him: ‘I said alone. You deaf or something?’
Stott blinked, shivered a little and stayed put.
The room that laughingly called itself an office was typical of Grebb, Brack thought. The man would never really amount to anything. A big frog in a small pond.
Brack didn’t waste time on preliminaries.
‘You ain’t worth two cents worth of buffalo shit, you know that, Grebb?’ Grebb gobbled and looked as if he would like to kill the other man. ‘I told you I wanted Mart Storm dead legally. He’s still around. You want to stay here? You want to go on enjoying the good life, drinking and whoring? By God, the way I feel now I could finish you.’
That was even more than Grebb could take.
‘You can cut that kinda talk, Mr. Brack,’ he said. ‘I hired the best. I wasn’t to know the best wasn’t good enough. But, hell, look what we did. Mart’s outa the game. He’s outlawed. Every man’s gun against him. He ain’t no more use to Will now.’
Brack rounded on him like an enraged buffalo bull, shoulders hunched head forward.
‘In the hills,’ he growled. ‘Being helped by that black ape. Christ, you think those two ain’t dangerous?’
‘Ransome’s on the job.’
‘Ransome! A damned old woman.’
‘There’s some of your men with him. Good men. Tristem.’
‘Yeah. That gives us a chance. But this ain’t the way I set it up.’
Grebb looked at Brack from under heavy eyelids. He wondered how far he dare push this man.
‘Nothin’,’ he said, ‘is the way you set it up, Mr. Brack.’
Brack said: ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘Your son.’
‘What about my son?’
‘You mean you don’t know?’
‘See here, Grebb, you get goddam gay with me and I’ll—’
‘He’s at the Storms’.’
Brack’s eyes clouded with puzzlement.
‘You mean they took him?’
‘I mean he’s ridin’ for Will Storm.’
‘Voluntary?’
‘Voluntary.’
That staggered Brack. Riley couldn’t do this to him. Nobody could. His son working for the enemy. It didn’t seem possible. By God, the boy must hate him.
‘You know anything else I should know, Grebb?’
‘They say he’s taken a shine to Will’s eldest girl, Kate.’
Brack clenched and unclenched his thick hands. A sudden gust of fright took him. The boy was of age. He could even marry the girl. It didn’t bear thinking on. He had to stop the boy before it was too late. He smelled a possibility of his vast holdings one day going to a member of the Storm family. The thought made him throw up almost.
‘Aintree,’ he said. What happened to him? Did he clear out?’
‘No,’ Grebb told him. ‘He’s still around. Healin’ up nicely. Madder’n a wet cat.’
‘Can he ride?’
‘Another coupla days.’
‘I’ll have another chore for him. Easier than the last one and he’d best not fall down on this one.’
‘Okay, Mr. Brack.’
Without another word, Brack turned on his heel and stalked out on his short legs. Slowly Grebb walked through the saloon to the window and watched the man mount. As Brack rode away, Grebb thought. Say Brack did manage to move the Storms out of the country. That would leave the southern range empty. Brack himself would want to occupy it. But if Brack had been weakened by his fight with the Storms ... there were possibilities for Grebb in the situation. He wasn’t intelligent, but he was cunning and he was an opportunist. He went back to the bar, told the man there to give him a bottle and a glass and carried them into the room he called an office. At the table he called a desk he sat and poured himself a serious drink. He then drank seriously and thought seriously to match the liquor. He came up with a number of pleasing, but slightly alarming thoughts.
He heard a sound behind him and turned.
Stott was standing there, watching him.
‘You got somethin’ on your mind, boss?’
Grebb laughed shortly.
‘Sure, Charlie,’ he said, ‘I have somethin’ on my mind. Plans.’
Stott looked at his master with admiration. He thought that Andy Grebb was the greatest man he had ever known. There wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for him.
Grebb said; ‘Dwyer been in?’
‘No.’
‘If he comes, I’ll have a word with him.’
‘Sure,’ said Stott.