“Mr. Halliday?”
Buck Halliday turned and eyed the big man at his shoulder. He was impressed by the friendly look in the man’s eyes that calmly appraised him. The stranger’s clean-cut features were just short of being handsome. His clothes were pressed and expertly cut, and weren’t hampered by a gunbelt.
“I’m Halliday.”
“My name’s Jude Cowley, Mr. Halliday. I saw you ride in earlier and was impressed by the way you handled yourself. A lesser man would have killed young Kerry, and I have no time for killers.”
Halliday sipped his drink and filled it from the bottle he’d bought as Cowley went on;
“Sheriff Martin tells me you’re looking for work.”
“I am.”
“Well, I’m looking for a top hand to join my outfit.”
“What kind of outfit would that be, Mr. Cowley?” Halliday asked, noticing now that the man kept his right hand under his coat while his left hand hung loosely by his side.
Cowley said, “I run cattle. I expect in time to supply beef for most of this state. To do that, I need a lot of land. To work a lot of land, I need a lot of top hands—men I can put on a place and trust to do a good job.”
“Punching cattle is my line of work,” Halliday told him.
Cowley nodded and said. “I give a man a chance and then wait for him to prove my judgment either right or wrong. If I’m wrong, I waste no time dispensing with his services. I send him on his way, but I pay well for the right kind. You interested?”
Halliday shrugged. “Why not?”
“Fine. I have some new men leaving town in the morning. They’ll work up in the high country south of here for ten days or so, rounding up stray stock. In that time, you’ll have ample opportunity to get to know the men and you should be able to give me an answer to my offer to sign on for a year. You see, I don’t believe in rounding off a man’s rough edges for somebody else’s benefit. However, if you’re what you say you are and have the ability that I’m sure you have, then I’m sure you’ll stay on with me. Do you need any money to tide you over?”
“No thanks. I’ve enough.”
“Well, get a good night’s rest and meet the boys at the stables at six o’clock in the morning.”
With that, Cowley turned and walked away. Then Halliday saw him bring his gloved right hand out from under his coat. Halliday frowned as he watched the man make his way along the bar, returning the greetings of townsmen and cowhands alike. The impression Halliday got was that Cowley was a man of some standing in this town.
The man was about to go through the batwings when a gray-haired ranch hand came hurrying through the doors, almost knocking him over.
“Easy on there, Prewett,” Cowley said with a smile. “I’m sure there’s nothing going on that’s so urgent you have to run a man down.”
Halliday noticed Prewett’s face cloud momentarily, but then he mumbled an apology and continued on to the counter. Halliday still watched Cowley, interested in his look of amusement and the air of complete confidence he displayed to the room. When Cowley turned and followed Prewett to the counter, Halliday moved along the counter to get within earshot.
The barkeeper ignored Prewett until Cowley joined the man, then he shuffled along the counter in a hurry.
Cowley dropped some coins on the counter and nodded for the barkeep to pour Prewett a drink, but Prewett ignored the offer and produced his own money and asked the barkeep; “Kerry Hogan been in, Hollis?”
Hollis shook his head and looked at Cowley, who waved him away. When Prewett turned to find Cowley standing beside him, Cowley said;
“Hollis mightn’t have seen young Kerry, Prewett, but the boy was in town awhile back. He left after making a nuisance of himself. Your whole manner suggests to me that you are concerned about something. Would that be right?”
Prewett regarded Cowley unsurely. “Seen his place burned to the ground and two fresh graves marked with the names of his father and brother. All their stock is missin’. I rode in to find out what the hell happened.”
“Neighborly interest?” Cowley asked.
Prewett nodded. “Sure. I been up in the hills shootin’ some game for the winter. I went to see if old Angus was fixed up with plenty of meat.”
Halliday kept studying Prewett closely, certain that the man’s concern was genuine. He immediately liked the newcomer, with his rugged good looks and patched-up clothes. Standing near the tall and confident Cowley, Prewett suffered by comparison, or at least he would to people who put some store on such things.
“Angus and Larry were killed and Kerry had to bury them. He came into town in a rage, but Sheriff Martin managed to cool him down and asked him to leave. You know anything that might help find the killers?”
Prewett shook his head. “Not a thing. Does Kerry know who did it?”
“He made some wild accusations in the heat of the moment. But they didn’t hold up. He’s taken himself off home to do some thinking. As his neighbor, I’d advise you to find him and stop him from letting his sorrow cloud his mind. Otherwise he might do something foolish again. The people who’ve done this will be found, but nobody wants to see a distraught young man making unnecessary trouble for everybody else, do they?”
Prewett tugged at his bandanna and worked it about his dust-grimed neck. Then, without another word, he moved past Cowley. But Cowley caught him lightly by the sleeve and when Prewett’s eyes met the big man’s calm gaze, Cowley said;
“If it turns out there’s more trouble out there, don’t hesitate to come to me for help. I have a great number of reliable men on my payroll now, and despite the fact that I think the territory is getting too big for small-time ranchers, I’m always ready to lend a hand. Maybe the old days and the old ways of working the land still have their place, but even if they don’t, nobody has the right to push a man off.”
Prewett looked troubled. He licked nervously at his lips and asked, “Kerry figure he was raided? Did he say that?”
Cowley shook his head. “He doesn’t know what happened. Nor does anybody else, it seems. Sheriff Martin will be out in the morning to see what he can find, but I doubt if anything can be done. The place was burned down and all the stock was stolen. So we must look upon it as a raid—by someone who has no regard for a man’s property. As I’ve tried to tell you often before, the little man is vulnerable.”
Prewett muttered something under his breath, thanked Cowley for his offer and hurried off. Cowley watched him go, gave a deep sigh and then followed him out to the boardwalk.
Halliday casually made his way to the saloon’s front window. Lounging against the wall, he sipped his drink and watched Prewett go to his buckboard across the street. Sitting in the seat, a light shawl wrapped about her slender shoulders, was a young woman who looked just as troubled. She was as attractive as any young woman Halliday had seen in months. She turned when Prewett climbed up to the seat and Halliday saw Prewett talking rapidly to her. The young woman looked anxiously across the street toward the saloon as Prewett untied the reins and slapped the horse into a walk.
Halliday switched his attention back to Cowley and saw Sheriff Martin moving along the boardwalk to join him. Cowley again seemed to be amused by the whole thing.
When the two men moved off together, Halliday switched his attention back to the buckboard. The young woman had turned in the seat and was looking back over her shoulder.
Halliday took his glass back to the counter and filled it again from his bottle. Then, catching the barkeeper’s eye, he asked;
“What’s with this Cowley rooster, Hollis?”
Heavily paunched and with a face suggesting that he drank as much of his merchandise as any of his customers, Hollis growled;
“Who wants to know?”
“Name’s Halliday and he’s just hired me to help round up some strays. I just wanted to get a rundown on him, to know what to expect. Any of his other hired help about?”
Hollis looked past Halliday and pointed to a crowd at the back of the room. “You want to ask questions about Jude Cowley, mister, go see Red Dank. Red’s the one with the bottle and all the hair. Only don’t get too nosy. New men got to know their place in this town.”
“Obliged,” Halliday said, and made his way to the back of the room.
Something was worrying him but he couldn’t put a finger on it as yet. It wasn’t the usual feeling he got when he had to work with a new bunch of men. It was something deeper. Something like an itch that stuck around when he scratched it. He drew up near the table, brought some money out of his pocket and said;
“Room for one more, boys?”
Dank looked at Halliday from above a raised whiskey bottle, took some time looking him up and down, then said flatly;
“Stakes are a dollar to start and no limit.”
“Cowley must pay well,” Halliday said and pulled up a chair. He counted out twenty dollars and gave Dank a smile. “Hope he pays better than the last feller I worked for—thirty and found and the found hardly worth the trouble.”
“You signed on, mister?” Dank asked.
“Just now. Name’s Halliday ... Buck Halliday. I ride out in the morning. Will I be going with your bunch?”
Dank checked quickly with two of the others at the table before he picked up a worn pack of pasteboards and began to shuffle.
“We’re the only ones in town who work for Mr. Cowley.”
“Then we should melt some ice tonight,” Halliday said. “What do they call you?”
“Red Dank.”
Halliday grinned and accepted the pasteboards dealt to him.
The game went on routinely from there but Halliday was conscious that Dank was paying as much attention to him as he was to his cards.
Halliday won fifteen dollars in the first hour and drank half a bottle of watered-down whiskey. When two of the others quit the game, that left a man named Stone and another named Wiley as well as Red Dank. Halliday asked casually;
“What’s with Cowley?”
“What do you mean?” Dank asked back.
“How big is his outfit? Who’s the ramrod? Where’s his land and how much does he have? I’d like a general rundown.”
Dank pursed his lips thoughtfully and looked at Halliday as if seeing him for the first time. “You haven’t heard of Jude Cowley?”
“Not before I rode into this town.”
Dank laughed sarcastically. “Where you been, hidin’ out under a rock someplace?”
Halliday smiled at the remark. He had already worked out that Dank was a bully who kept his men under the thumb. His hands worked fast and his eyes always seemed to be sparkling with amusement and self-assurance. Maybe, Halliday conceded, he had the right to act that way. Time would tell.
“Mister,” Dank went on, leaning forward, “Jude Cowley is a giant. Ask anybody and they’ll tell you that Jude Cowley was the fastest gunslinger who ever buckled on a gunbelt. He and his brother tamed a dozen hell towns, and each one’s got hisself about twenty notches. Guess Mr. Cowley would still be a top gun if some ambusher hadn’t crippled his hand.”
Dank’s eyes gleamed as he went on, “But don’t let that fool you, Halliday. They may have ruined his gun hand, but he can still use his left. As for the rest, he’s got an empire that stretches so far, you couldn’t ride it in one day. He’d own the whole territory if a couple settlers weren’t holdin’ out, waitin’ for him to up his price to buy ’em out. His outfit is over forty strong and I ramrod it for him.”
Halliday nodded and dealt the cards. “Then I’ll have to answer to you as well as to him, I guess, eh, Red?”
“You’re damned right, you will. You see anythin’ wrong with that?”
Halliday smiled. “What could be wrong? I leave well enough alone, Red, until it doesn’t suit. Then I either pack up and ride or stay around and take what comes. No,” he said, putting his cards together, “I can’t see anything wrong, provided he pays me on time.”
“You’ll get paid on time. Forty and found—and the found is the best in the territory, Halliday, with plenty of time off to lose money to me playin’ poker.”
Halliday pushed five dollars into the center of the pot and said, “Four dollar and raise you four. Up to you, now, Red.” Dank’s face went tight as he looked at his cards. Then he studied Halliday carefully, threw his cards down in disgust and picked up his whiskey bottle. He drained it and called for a fresh bottle from the barkeep. Halliday sat quietly, watching the saloon gradually empty. When they were the only men left and Hollis was putting chairs on the tables and sweeping the floor, Halliday counted his winnings at seventy-four dollars.
“Time to quit?” Halliday said.
“When I’m good and ready, Halliday, no sooner an’ no later,” Dank clipped out.
“Suits me, Red,” Halliday said easily and pushed the cards to Dank to deal. Before he did so, Dank counted the pile of money in front of him.
“I’m ahead fifteen dollars, Halliday. I reckon it’s enough. You’ll keep.”
“I’ll be here, Red,” Halliday said with a yawn.
Then Dank dropped his head onto the table and began to snore. Grinning as he said good night to the barkeep, Halliday asked;
“He be all right where he is?”
“Red can take care of himself.”