Dave Brand, owner of the Bar X, a man well over sixty and looking even older, stared across the room at Tex. His grey face was lightened by an expression in his eyes which Sam Steel for one hadn’t seen there for a long time. There was a new strength about Dave right now, the dawning of what Sam thought might be a new resolution.
It was now the early hours of the morning, though dawn had not yet broken. Sam Steel had brought Tex and Pop Dwight to the Bar X after meeting up with them in the foothills. Now, with Dave Brand, they were in the shabby but spacious living-room of the ranch, which like most others in the district gave on to a verandah running the length of the building.
Dave had been in bed asleep when the party arrived, but he’d got up quickly enough when he heard that Tex had come. Pretty well the first thing he said surprised the newcomer.
‘You got my letter, Tex? Sure … I reckoned I could rely on you. We’ve heard somethin’ of what you’ve done in other parts. I judged you’d come along here if you could.’
Tex had received no letter from his uncle, only from Sam; but it seemed Dave had written, and along the same lines as Sam.
‘Heck, Dave, I didn’t know,’ muttered the corpulent Sam, whose round, rosy face wasn’t very different from what it had been as a boy, but which was a mask for a pretty good standard of efficiency. ‘I aimed to get Tex along, but … I thought you were still foldin’ up and takin’ what the Parson handed out,’ he added.
It didn’t look like it was that way at all, though. Now Tex was watching Dave closely, marking the changes the years had wrought in face and figure. He reckoned that if he’d been in Sam’s place he’d have thought the same – that Dave had folded up. His shoulders were hunched, his face lined, far more than it should have been merely as a result of passing years. It was difficult to define, to say just why he was sure that Dave Brand wasn’t the man he’d known in the old days, but Tex was dead certain as he watched him standing there in the living-room. Something had gone out of Dave. He’d folded up, that was as good a description as any.
Folded up … but just the same a spark of the old Dave seemed to have been struck after all. He had written to Tex, hoping his letter would reach him, asking him to come down to the Bar X, outlining some of the troubles which were besetting the ranch – and others in the district. This Tex now knew for Dave had explained. It seemed he hadn’t known that Sam also had written.
‘OK, it don’t signify,’ said Tex now, breaking the silence. ‘I didn’t get your letter, Dave, I’ve been movin’ around, but I got Sam’s and vamoosed along here.’
Dave broke in, scraping his hand over his unshaven jaw. He knew nothing of events, even less than Sam Steel.
‘What you mean, Tex? Ain’t you just come?’
‘I’ve been around a few hours. I’ll give you the dope, but I reckon first I could do with hearin’ your tale, and Sam’s. He’s told me a bit but not everythin’. And there’s Pop here. He’s got a bit to say. After that we can get down to business … if you ain’t too tired, Dave?’
Again his eyes flickered over the face and figure of this man who when he had last seen him, some years before, had been straight and upright, tough, efficient and virile. There was a great change now. Dave Brand was old, old not only in body but in spirit. To Sam Steel, his friend and foreman, he wasn’t looking so bad as he had done for the last two or three years, a flicker of the old Dave had come to life since Tex had arrived; but to Tex he looked in a bad way. Tex felt pity for Dave, remembering as he did the old days, when the Bar X had been such a prosperous outfit. He had only to glance round this living-room to realize how things had changed. In Mrs Brand’s time the room had been spotless and well-furnished. Now it was shabby, untidy and dirty. And during the ride from the foothills, across Bar X property, Tex had used his eyes. He’d noted the fences in need of repair, the general air of dilapidation.
On one point, however, he had been agreeably surprised. According to Sam’s letter Dave had lost all will to fight, even will to live. Tex had expected no great welcome when Dave found out why he had come. Instead of that Dave wanted him, had sent for him. That was something. It was easier to help a guy who wanted to be helped.
‘I ain’t tired,’ muttered Dave, in answer to the last question. Then he looked across at Pop Dwight, who hadn’t said very much since riding in. ‘I don’t get what Pop’s got to do with this.’
‘We’ll get around to that later,’ replied Tex. ‘How ’bout you talkin’ first, Dave? Give me all you’ve got about the trouble hereabouts an’ then I’ll do some talkin’. I got a few questions to ask … guess you know the Lazy Y outfit and the Forbes, Buck and the girl called Linda?’
It was Sam who answered. Sure they knew the Lazy Y, but why was Tex interested in the dame?
‘She’s the only skirt I ever knew who could look after herself,’ he added, ‘but I don’t get….’
‘Leave it, Sam, I’ll explain later. Dave, give me your slant.’
When Sam had been so unexpectedly encountered in the foothills not much explanation had been given either by Sam or Tex. The latter knew, briefly, why Sam had been hanging around there, knew that he’d approached the gun battle from the north but had been too late to take any sort of part in it. He got there just after the Kid and his companion had been surprised by Tex and Pop. He’d seen some other guys, but they’d broken up and cleared by the time Sam had encountered Tex. Tex had decided to get to the Bar X without further delay and have a talk with Dave.
Dave sat down heavily in a shabby chair and Pop Dwight followed suit, making use of the liquor Dave had brought out from a cupboard. Tex remembered that even as a boy Sam had always liked looking after people. Now he hovered around Dave anxiously, producing a bottle of medicine before Dave started to talk and making him take a dose.
‘You know what Doc Black said,’ he muttered, ‘your heart ain’t what it was, Dave. You swallow some o’ this.’
Tex felt the old affection for Sam. He’d always been a good guy had Sam, and he was the same way now. It didn’t take much working out that during the past years he’d kept the Bar X going and tended the old man as well, like he was his son. A good guy Sam, and tough as well, when it was necessary. Leastways, he’d been tough in the past and Tex reckoned he hadn’t changed.
‘OK, this is the set-up,’ said Dave, when he had swallowed the draught Sam poured out for him. But then he hesitated, looking across at Pop Dwight … and the expression in his eyes gave Tex the clue to his thoughts.
‘It’s OK, Dave, Pop is workin’ with me. That right, Pop?’
‘Sure, it’s like I told you, it’s ’bout time somebody with guts broke the Parson. That’s plain enough, ain’t it, Brand? You ain’t got anythin’ to worry about; I don’t aim to go back to the River blabbin’.’
By now Tex had decided that Pop Dwight was on the level, definitely on the level. If he’d wanted to pull a fast one he could have done that without a lot of difficulty during the manoeuvres in the foothills, or at least made some attempt. Pop Dwight was OK and might prove pretty useful.
‘You carry on, Dave,’ said Tex, ‘I want to get the set-up nice and tidy in my mind.’
So Dave talked, aided by Sam and Pop from time to time. Tex Scarron listened without interruption while the story was told. Basically it wasn’t much different from the outline Sam had given him in his letter. The Parson had busted in on the Grant’s River settlement and after a bit had started this mutual protection racket.
Tex listened to the yarn, which was embellished with more details than Sam had given him in his laboriously written letter. He heard how the Parson, having brought in Jeb and the guy Snake, plus a whole lot of other tough guys, had proved that protection was needed – by the simple expedient of burning down ranches, rustling cattle and committing at least one murder. Nothing could be proved and the Parson’s tale was that bandits lying up in the hills had been responsible for these crimes. Nothing could be proved, but it was a certainty that the Parson’s bunch, acting under his orders, had committed the crimes.
‘Sure,’ muttered Pop Dwight, ‘an’ the sheriff’s been bought. That made it easier for the Parson.’
Tex grunted, remembering Poston and his attitude down at the hotel. The racket wasn’t a new one, not in the cities; but this was the first time Tex had run across it elsewhere. Not that there was any reason why it shouldn’t be worked in cow-country, quite a few reasons why it should pay better dividends. In the cities hoodlums had organized forces of law and order to combat as well as any resistance from their victims. Out here there was more scope and fewer obstacles.
Tex could understand that given sufficient tough guys who wouldn’t stop at murder, given that the sheriff was bought, it would be a walk-over. Each ranch had its quota of cowhands, but the ranches were widely scattered and after generations there was a tradition of isolation. The district as a whole kept itself to itself; so did each individual ranch. There was no cohesion, with the result that the thugs could deal with each ranch separately.
‘That’s the way it’s been,’ stated Sam. ‘At first nobody was fallin’ for the Parson’s racket, but by the time he’d operated a bit they were glad to. They pay him his dough every month and so long as they do that they’re in the clear. But when some guy takes a stand and don’t pay, things happen.’
Pop Dwight shifted uneasily in his chair.
‘That’s right, but I guess it’s been our own fault. That don’t sound so good comin’ from me, maybe … I told you, Scarron, I ain’t proud o’ the way I’ve folded up. But it’s a fact, I guess. We ought to have made a stand.’
Sam grunted, pouring himself some spirit.
‘That’s OK as talk, but it ain’t no good one guy takin’ a stand. Werner up at the Block Diamond, he’s been runnin’ a feud with the Tumblin’ T for twenty years, and Josh Malloney up at Indian Range, he ain’t talkin’ to Werner nor anyone else. I tell you it just ain’t possible to get these guys together.’
Tex wasn’t surprised at this. It was pretty well known that the Grant’s River territory was torn with feuds. There was sometimes gunning and always trouble of some sort. The Parson must have known this after he’d been at the River for a bit and worked it out that the area was ideal for his purpose.
It wasn’t long before Tex had a good overall picture of the set-up. It was just about what he’d reckoned. By now the Parson, taking in his monthly dues regular, was sitting very pretty, a big man at the River, owning the Double K, the hotel, the gambling joint and other concerns, all bought with the profits from the original racket.
‘OK Pop, you got anythin’ to add?’ Tex asked.
‘Not much, I reckon. I’ve been payin’ my dues same as the rest, otherwise the old Gazette would go. At the beginning I tried to stick out but some o’ my plant was wrecked, by way of a warnin’ and after that I played ball. But I’m ready to work in with you now. I ain’t got no people, no wife an’ no kids. I reckon I can afford to take a risk.’ He paused and then heaved himself from his chair. ‘And I guess you’re the guy who maybe can break the Parson,’ he added.
Sam Steel took him up, his chubby face set.
‘That goes for me, too, Tex. Some o’ what you been doin’ up north got back here, you know the way it is. I reckoned you were the guy to give us a break. Maybe you can get some o’ these other hombres to play in.’ He looked sidelong at Dave and then added, ‘Looks like Dave aims to play in. I didn’t reckon on that, I worked it out we’d have to talk him round, but it looks like I was wrong.’
Dave Brand came clean then.
‘I ain’t been much good not since Mary died,’ he said, his voice brittle. ‘I let the place go down, been drinkin’ too much … Sam could tell you. I folded up when the Parson tried it on. But I got around to thinkin’ Mary wouldn’t have liked that an’ then I thought o’ you, Tex. But that ain’t all. I didn’ go down to the River today to pay the Parson, an’ I ain’t goin’. If he wants his dough he’ll have to come up here for it. I can still hold a gun and Sam can hit a haystack. I reckon some o’ the boys will lend a hand. I reckoned that maybe if I stuck out that’d kinda encourage some o’ the others. It’s all we need … if we can get some o’ them to stand in together we can finish the Parson and his bunch.’
There was silence in the room for a little. There was a spark of the old Dave Brand left all right, no doubt about that. He’d aimed to stand out against the Parson even before he’d known that Tex was coming. It took some guts, there wasn’t any doubt about that, either. Tex had received proof that the Parson’s bunch were ruthless. He knew now that at the Double K, the hotel and the other concerns owned by the Parson, there were well over a hundred tough guys, all employed by the Parson and under his orders. If they were set on to the Bar X there wouldn’t be much left of the ranch by the time they’d finished. Maybe Dave’s example would rally the other ranchers and make them forget their private quarrels, but maybe not. It might have the opposite effect. The example of the Bar X might well scare them into paying up for ever without asking for trouble.
Sam and Pop were evidently thinking along the same lines, though they didn’t say anything. It was Tex who broke the silence which followed on Dave’s statement.
‘We’ll talk about that later,’ he said. ‘Sam, I reckon I know you had word I’d been run out o’ the River and the mob was after me, which was why you were ridin’ through the foothills, but I guess you’d better give us all the dope about what you saw up there.’
Sam nodded briefly, going on to amplify the very brief explanation he’d already given Tex and Pop.
‘Sure – one o’ the boys came back from the River and let out there was a guy grabbed stackin’ a poker deck down at the hotel. When he told me what this guy looked like I knew it was you, Tex, so I took out my beast and went to have a look-see. The guy told me the mob had taken you up the Black Hills trail.’
Sam had ridden well north and he’d heard shots just like Tex and Pop had heard them. He’d investigated and got a sight of four of the Parson’s boys lying up exchanging shots with other guys south of the track near the defile. He hadn’t known then what had happened to Tex, nor who the hombres were south of the track. But he recognized the Parson’s boys.
After that he’d ridden towards the defile and there had come across Tex and Pop Dwight.
‘I guess that’s about all,’ he said.
‘Did you see Doc Black?’ asked Tex. ‘Maybe he was with the Parson’s bunch?’
Sam shook his head. He hadn’t sighted Black … he hadn’t been one of the four hoodlums he’d seen a bit earlier.
‘Heck, the Doc’s OK,’ he muttered. ‘He’s a good guy, he ain’t workin’ in with the Parson.’
‘Maybe he ain’t, but he was hangin’ around,’ said Pop. ‘There ain’t no mistakin’ the way he rides, not with that shoulder o’ his.’
Tex took over. It was time for him to tell his tale.
He recounted exactly what had happened to him after he left Indian Creek, starting with his meeting with Linda Forbes and ending with the encounter with Sam Steel by the defile. Tex was a better hand at talking than any of the others and he gave them the story lucidly, not leaving out anything of importance.
‘I guess that’s the lot,’ he ended. He glanced at Pop and added, ‘Now I reckon you know why I’m interested in the girl. Maybe she’s a sucker and reckons the Parson is on the level. Maybe she did reckon I was a hoodlum and laid for me not knowin’ who I was … and maybe like you said, Pop, she acted the way she thought was right when she had me run out o’ town … but maybe none o’ that is true.’
Sam Steel’s round face puckered.
‘She ain’t no sucker,’ he stated, ‘you can take that as hard, Tex. She’s a dame who knows what she’s doin’. That’s more’n you can say about Buck. The Parson’s mob have been milkin’ him, he’s a sucker but he don’t know it, thinks he’s a mighty smart guy.’
Tex rolled a cigarette, lit it before replying. Sam knew that Buck Forbes was being milked, but apparently Linda didn’t.
‘Buck pays his dues?’ asked Tex, when he’d lit the cigarette.
‘I guess so,’ was Sam’s reply, ‘but that ain’t all he pays … I reckon he’s been milked more than that.’
Pop Dwight was looking upset. He was fond of Linda, knew her pretty well, but it was only now, as he explained, that he’d got around to thinking that maybe it was mighty queer that she was friendly with the Parson and at least some of his boys.
‘Leastways, maybe not exactly friendly,’ he added, ‘but she’s always pleasant to ’em. I reckoned she was just a nice kid who didn’t know what the Parson was. She’s only been at the Lazy Y a year, like I told you. I thought she’d fallen for the tale that the Parson was doin’ the River a good turn keepin’ his mob to hold off bandits. But now I guess … I guess you’re right, she ain’t a sucker an’ that means she wouldn’t fall for the Parson’s tale. You got me worried, Scarron.’
Tex didn’t give anything away – not about the fact that he was worried, too. He didn’t even admit as much to himself. Linda Forbes was a girl he’d met for the first time only a matter of hours before. She didn’t mean anything to him, so he told himself.
‘We don’t know enough to work out anythin’ definite,’ he said, ‘but we got to keep her in mind, she’s been actin’ queer. She ain’t the only one at that. There’s this Doc Black you say ain’t in with the Parson, but he was up in the hills a while back and vamoosed pretty slick after the shootin’. And there’s the Kid. I reckon the Parson got word I’d got clear. Maybe he sent some of his boys up the other trail to get me if they could, there was just about time, I got delayed talkin’ to Pop. I guess they ran into the Kid instead. He got away OK I should say.’
This was likely enough, for Tex and Pop hadn’t sighted the Parson’s boys after the Kid, which they would have done if the bunch had got on the trail slickly. The Kid could be taken as being still at large.
Sam grinned, but without humour.
‘I reckon the Parson ain’t so pleased … you say the Kid lifted five hundred dollars off Jeb and Snake. That’d be the dough they got from Hackamore for dues. No, sir, I reckon the Parson don’t take kindly to any other guy rustlin’ in on his territory.’
Tex was inclined to agree, but at the moment he wasn’t interested in the Kid or his buddy. If he stayed on in the district it might be that it would give the Parson something to think about and something to do, diverting his attention. That would be an advantage to Tex, if it happened; but at that point in the affair Tex reckoned that the Kid was only a side-line, whose impingement on the Parson case couldn’t be more than incidental. He was wrong there but couldn’t know it, not yet.
Dave Brand also brushed aside the subject of the Kid. He came back to something else, mentioned earlier.
‘I ain’t payin’ the Parson,’ he stated flatly. ‘You don’t reckon I ought to, Tex?’
Tex crossed to the glass door that gave on to the verandah. The dawn had broken by now and the corral and the home grazing-grounds showed starkly under the cold light. For a few moments he stood there staring out, before he turned back to Dave.
‘I reckon I got ideas about that,’ he said. ‘You give me the low-down how much you’re supposed to pay and how you get it to the Parson.’
Dave gave him what he wanted and Tex listened silently. When the old man had finished he nodded.
‘OK, I’ll tell you what we’ll do, Dave.’
He talked for quite a bit, the others giving him their attention. It wasn’t until the sun was up that Tex went to bed and Pop Dwight rode back to Grant’s River.