Olsen was not at the hotel. According to the clerk Olsen had left after he had seen his wife settled in. Later, the clerk added, he had seen Olsen make his way down to the saloon.
Crossing the muddy street Jim stepped up onto the boardwalk and walked along until he reached the saloon. He paused long enough to remove his slicker. He hung it from one of the hooks provided, then he went inside.
The saloon was fairly busy. Cigarette smoke and the murmur of talk filled the air. It was noticeably warmer than outside. Jim saw a few men he knew and he spoke to a number of them as he passed. They were for the most part ranchers like himself, and they all knew the problem he had. Although none of them actually mentioned it, Jim could tell they were acutely aware of what was happening. Jim could appreciate how they felt. They understood his trouble and they plainly sympathized, but they would not want to get involved. Every man there had problems enough. Getting caught up in another man’s range trouble was something none of them needed — or wanted.
Jim would have liked to have stayed to talk with them longer, but he had no time now. He had spotted Philip Olsen. The Boxed-O owner was sitting alone at the far end of the saloon on the raised, railed-off section that was the closest anyone could get to privacy in the saloon. A near-empty bottle stood on the table before him and a glass was in his big fist.
Jim made his way over to where Olsen sat. It had been some time since he had actually seen Olsen in the flesh. From what he saw now Olsen had changed. The man had put on weight, mainly in the face. But Jim didn’t let himself be deceived into believing that Olsen had gone soft. Olsen looked as hard and tough as his reputation had painted him.
Stepping up to Olsen’s table Jim pulled out a chair and sat down. For a moment it seemed as though Olsen might ignore him. Then he glanced at Jim, his face taut, somewhat flushed by the whisky he had consumed. A faint smile played across his lips at some silent, inner thought.
‘You come to say you’ve had enough?’ he asked.
‘I came to see if we can work this out before there’s any more trouble,’ Jim told him.
Olsen drained his glass. ‘I don’t see anything to work out.’
‘Quit playing, Olsen. Just what is it you want?’
‘Nothing more or less than Rocking-T. Lock, stock, and barrel.’
‘Just like that?’
Olsen smiled coldly. ‘I believe in facts, Talman, hard facts. You got something I want, and I aim to have it. As simple as that.’
‘Not so simple,’ Jim said. ‘Rocking-T is mine and it stays mine. You expect me to give in just because you make loud noises?’
‘It could save you a lot of grief.’
‘Won’t work, Olsen. If you want Rocking-T, you’ll have to get it the hard way. Rocking-T will fight all the way, and play just as dirty as you. That’s a promise. I figured it was a waste of time talking to you, but I had to try.’
Olsen sat up straight, his hands flat on the tabletop. ‘Look, Talman, why make things worse for yourself. Sell out now, while there’s still something left to sell. I’ll give you a damn good price, better than you could get anywhere else. Face facts, Talman. I need Rocking-T. My expansion has to be quick, and that means I have no time to play about. You can’t fight me. I can beat you in any way. Men or money. You figure it and you’ll see I’m right. So why bring trouble on yourself. I’ll take you in the end.’
‘Big talk,’ Jim said, ‘but are you man enough to make it come off?’
Anger rose in Olsen. ‘That is what you’ll find out. You want it the hard way do you? All right, you’ll get it. All the way down the line.’ He paused for a moment. ‘Remember how Andy Jacobs ended up.’
For the first time Jim let his emotions get the better of him. He came up out of his chair with such force that he turned it over. He towered over Olsen, the rifle gripped tight in his hands. He was close to breaking point and he knew it. And it scared him, because he wasn’t sure what he might do if he did let his control slip. Olsen must have sensed it too for he turned his face up to Jim, and for a fleeting moment fear showed in his eyes. It vanished just as quickly, and it was the Olsen of old who faced Jim, his broad face tight and totally defiant.
‘I won’t forget Andy,’ Jim said finally, ‘or Ben Nolan. By God I won’t. You’ve set the rules in this game, Olsen, so don’t cry when you get hurt, because I promise that’s one thing you will get.’
Olsen, pouring himself another drink, appeared to ignore Jim’s threat. ‘You figuring on crying for help to Nolan?’
‘You know damn well that Ben Nolan was hurt bad last night. Hurt when he tried to help Andy Jacobs.’
‘Things do happen,’ Olsen said coolly. ‘The cattle business is rough — it’s a man’s life, but it’s rough. Dog eat dog.’
Jim eased off now. He was in control again, able to take Olsen’s remarks without flaring up.
‘Just keep your riders off my range, mister. From now on any Boxed-O man is fair game for my crew. It’ll be shoot first and worry later, and I never meant anything so strong in my life.’
He turned away then, before Olsen could reply. He could feel Olsen’s eyes on his back all the way to the door. Outside he retrieved his slicker. It was getting colder, but Jim was glad of the fresh air. He stood for a moment, undecided what to do. Then an impulse caught him and he turned along the boardwalk. His long strides ate up the distance and eventually brought him to John Dobbs’ store.
He stepped inside and felt the calm, unhurried atmosphere of the place surround him. He put his slicker and rifle aside and moved deeper into the store, removing his sodden hat. He passed stacked goods and provisions, savoring the mixed aromas, and felt a calmness come over him.
‘Anyone to home?’ he called.
Sound came to him from the back of the store, then he saw Melanie Dobbs as she emerged from the doorway that led to the living quarters at the rear of the building. A pleased smile touched her lips as she saw him.
‘Jim. What a nice surprise. Whatever brings you to town on a day like this?’
He managed a wry smile. ‘Haven’t you heard what’s going on? Or are you just being polite?’
‘Oh, Jim, we were so sorry when we heard.’ The concern was clear in her tone.
‘Thanks for the thought,’ he said.
‘Come on through,’ Melanie said. ‘Dad’s in the back. I’m sure he’ll want to talk to you.’
Jim followed her through the door. A short passage led to the living-room, with bedrooms and kitchen on the other side. John Dobbs was seated before a roll top desk, busy at work over a thick ledger. He glanced up at Jim’s entrance and got up.
‘Hello, Jim.’ He took Jim’s hand for a moment. ‘Come and sit down.’
He led Jim over to where a blazing fire roared in the big open hearth. Jim settled himself in one of the two big armchairs and Dobbs took the other.
‘Coffee, Jim?’ Melanie asked.
‘Yes, ma’am,’ Jim said, glad that she had asked.
Jim stared at the fire, letting the warmth of it seep into his tired body. Last night and today’s long ride were beginning to tell on him.
‘How bad is it, Jim?’ Dobbs asked, his voice coming to Jim as if it were a long way off.
‘Bad enough.’ Jim glanced at the storekeeper. ‘I don’t suppose I need to lay it out for you?’
Dobbs smiled. ‘Storekeepers are like parsons. They hear every bit of news from miles around simply because most people come into a store at one time or another, just as they would a church.’
‘Then you’ll know how things stand right now?’
‘The tale is that your neighbor Olsen has made a try at taking over. Tried for your water first, then made a raid on your herd last night.’ Dobbs paused, as though reluctant to go further, then added, ‘Up to now each of you has lost one man, and the sheriff has been bad hurt.’
‘Man just can’t keep a thing to himself. Beats me how the word gets out.’ Jim leaned in closer to the fire. ‘You haven’t heard anything on how I can get this settled have you?’
Dobbs smiled dryly.
Melanie returned with a tray holding cups and a pot of hot coffee. Jim took his cup gratefully, tasting the sweet, black brew. It was good and as he drank he began to feel hunger touching his insides.
‘What’s your next move, Jim?’ Dobbs asked.
Draining his cup Jim considered the question. Just what was his next move? It seemed crystal clear. He had to get Rocking-T prepared for a long fight. There seemed no other way. Olsen was all set to keep on raiding anything and everything connected with Rocking-T. Jim had the feeling that from now on things would really hot up.
‘Only thing I can do is to keep on fighting. Make Olsen see that if he wants Rocking-T it’s going to cost him.’
‘Jim,’ Melanie asked, ‘why has this Olsen suddenly taken it into his head to go for Rocking-T? I mean why now, in such a hurry?’
Jim glanced at her. He became aware that the question had been at the back of his mind all along. At first it had seemed that Olsen’s move had been primarily aimed at Rocking-T’s water. The end of the drought had made that excuse void, but Olsen was still pushing, obviously intent on a quick takeover. The question was why?
‘I’m still trying to work that out myself,’ he said.
John Dobbs was silently drinking his coffee. He put his cup down and produced a pipe which he filled and lit up. He sat for a moment, collecting his thoughts before he spoke.
‘I think perhaps I can throw some light on that for you, Jim,’ he said.
‘I’d be grateful if you could.’
‘See what you think of this. While we were on the way here, maybe just over a week back, we passed a trail drive, heading in this direction. And that herd was carrying a Boxed-O brand.’
Jim let the facts sink in. Olsen bringing in a herd. Why? Didn’t he already have more beef on his range than the rest of the area put together? Then he began to recall the things he’d heard about Olsen’s visit to Chicago. How the man had come back with contracts a mile long. Contracts to supply beef, that would make him a rich man when he honored them. If he honored them, Jim realized. Olsen, full of ambition, determined to get on, would do anything to make good on any deals he had fixed. If he required more cattle he was going to need more range, for it was a well-known fact that he was already overgrazing Boxed-O. Jim brought his suspicions to the point of reality. Now he could see why Olsen needed Rocking-T so desperately.
‘What was the size of that herd, John?’ he asked.
Dobbs smiled slowly. ‘I was saving that one, Jim. I’ll tell you something. I’ve seen some herds in my time, but I’ve never seen the likes of this one we passed. It was massive. You remember it, Melanie?’
The girl nodded. ‘I don’t think I’ll ever forget it.’ She turned to Jim. ‘It seemed to stretch for miles, and the dust . . . ‘ She made a distasteful face.
‘What kind of beef was it?’ Jim asked.
‘A mixture,’ Dobbs told him. ‘Breeding stock and a lot of young stuff.’
‘Now it begins to make sense,’ Jim said.
‘How?’ Melanie asked.
‘It’s known that Olsen has a lot of big contracts to honor with the Chicago meat-companies. In short it means he has to produce a lot of beef within a certain date. That means he has to expand his herds. And that means he’s going to need a lot more range than he has at the moment.’
Dobbs was relighting his pipe. ‘And Rocking-T is his choice.’
‘It figures. Rocking-T is the largest section of range after Boxed-O. Also it adjoins Boxed-O. In fact it’s just what he needs.’
‘What do you aim to do?’
Jim got up. ‘First I’m going to do some checking up. Try to pin down everything I can about that herd.’
‘Then?’
‘Then I’ll be able to make a move.’
Jim retrieved his hat, saying it was time to make a move for home. He thanked the Dobbs for their hospitality, and also for the word of the approaching herd.
‘You go careful now, Jim,’ John Dobbs said.
They were at the door, watching the rain as Jim pulled on his slicker, picked up his rifle. ‘I will,’ he said.
He left the store and began the walk down to the livery. Dobbs’ news had given him a lot to think about and he was wholly preoccupied as he strode along. So much so that he was almost unaware at the touch of a hand on his arm. Then it registered and he spun round, suddenly alert, his rifle coming up in his hand.
‘Hey, easy, Jim,’ the owner of the hand said, and Jim recognized Frank Spode.
‘Sorry, Frank. I guess I’m a little touchy.’
‘You been talking to Olsen?’
Jim nodded. ‘And wasting my time too.’
‘He won’t budge?’
‘Hell, no. He ain’t about to let up a fraction. Not until I’m off Rocking-T and he’s on.’
‘I’d say he was in for a long wait.’ Spode pushed his hands deep into his pockets. ‘He still in town?’
‘Down at the saloon.’
Spode appeared suddenly ill at ease. Jim wondered why, then dismissed the thought. Whatever Spode’s problem he wouldn’t thank anyone who tried to interfere, no matter what the motive.
‘Frank, you know anything about a big herd Olsen might have coming in?’
Spode’s troubled look vanished as he nodded. ‘I know some,’ he said. ‘He sent near six to eight men off maybe eight weeks back. Didn’t tell me much about it. Olsen’s pretty close-mouthed sometimes, even with the people who work with him. I heard some bunk-house talk about a herd being due.’
‘Could be important, Frank. John Dobbs, down at the store, told me he’d passed a herd on his way here to town. He didn’t know the men, but he said the brand was Boxed-O.’
‘Big herd?’
‘John Dobbs said so.’
Spode’s face sharpened. ‘And you figure this is why Olsen’s pushing you so hard of a sudden?’
‘It figures,’ Jim said. ‘He’ll be wanting extra graze.’
‘It fits the pattern,’ Spode agreed. ‘I guess you’ve heard about those contracts Olsen got in Chicago. They’ll mean big money if he comes through. He’s ambitious, Jim, and he’ll do any damn thing he can to make things work out in his favor.’
Jim nodded. ‘That’s something I know’ He glanced off down to where the gaudy saloon-front showed through the misty grayness of the falling rain. ‘Well, maybe he’s about to find out there are folk who’re just as stubborn when it comes to the push.’