The Sundown Chaser

Herschel frowned at his deputy. “What took him so damn long? Dad saw him on the road down there Sunday.”

Herschel shook his head and hurried down the stairs. He and Art stood on the street corner, and could see the black hat on the rider aboard a big black piebald. Folks on the boardwalk were clapping their hands, and the prisoners, wearing the ropes for collars, looked haggard.

Herschel saw that one of the prisoners was Anton. He should have left the county.

“Oh, thank God,” the first prisoner said, looking at Herschel. “Why in hell’s name didn’t you come up there and get us? We’d give up, I swear.”

“Maybe you learned a lesson,” Herschel said, nodding at Black Feather. “You did well.”

“I come back to get my money.” He tossed the end of the reata at Herschel.

“You need me, you know where I live.” He and the young woman leading the packhorses went off at a trot for the river.

Art and Herschel herded the footsore prisoners toward the courthouse. In a short while, they were in cells.

“I better go collect Black Feather’s reward,” Herschel said. “He’ll be needing it to feed his women.”

Phil was back from the land office upstairs. “That land where that dugout full of ice is belongs to a W. C. Thompson.”

“You talk to those Danes—Olsen’s a Dane, isn’t he? There’s several of them that cut river ice. No, I mean the one that’s involved with Hatch. He’s the one drives the big horses now that Hamby is dead.”

“He’s the one that also warned Hatch you were up there, too,” Art said.

“I know. I’ve been thinking about him. It was why he wasn’t at the dance this past Saturday. He was waiting for the beef delivery at the dugout.”

“Yes, he was. We need to go find him and bring him in. He might tell us all we need to know.”

“You know, Thompson planned this for some time. That ice was cut last winter and put in there.” Herschel felt certain that Olsen might have arranged for the ice to be stored up there.

“That’s too wild a place right now. Anyone know if Hatch’s ranch is in this county?”

“I can go check on the records,” Phil said. “It would be east of Soda Springs school?”

“We’ll get a search warrant if he’s got a place in our jurisdiction. Maybe we can find some evidence.”

Herschel went to the window and looked down at the street. “Let’s start a list of men to ask to go with us. Men we want for posse members. That way, when we move they’ll be ready. Art, we’ll need two men to marshal the town in our absence. Darby, the new man, can man the desk and keep things going here on a temporary basis. I want this sweep made in three days, not over four.

“Every man needs a bedroll and a stout horse. We’ll need camp gear and food. Two packhorses, and not plugs, they’ve got to move. Two men can go down and arrest Sonny Pharr and Olsen if he’s up here. Then the rest will raid Hatch’s, and by then I hope we know where Thompson’s at. When we’re done, I want them all behind bars with cases that will stick.

His men went off to get to work. Herschel went to talk to Lem Pascal about joining the posse.

“I was wondering when you’d have enough of Hatch,” Lem said as they sat in his office, which reeked of neat’s-foot oil and grain.

“Law’s funny. You need evidence or a confession. I have two sworn confessions tying Thompson to the stolen horses. But with a smart lawyer, you might not get two feet in court with ’em. I want them all looking out of bars.”

“Yes, and when they start talking, it will take a dam to hold them back.”

They shook hands and Herschel went back to his office. Nothing from his father.

Phil found three sections in the east that were listed as Roscoe Hatch’s. That was enough to encourage Herschel. He felt things soon would be under way.