Up at the Bar X late that afternoon things were pretty gloomy with old Dave lying dead in his bedroom. Death had come to the ranch furtively, murderously, and its miasma hung over the place.
Both Sam and Tex took it hard, Sam harder than his friend, for though Dave had been Tex’s uncle, nearly related to him, it was Sam who had seen so much of the old man, had lived and worked with him. Sam went around with a set face; for once he neglected ordinary range duties. It looked like the bottom had dropped out of his world, at least for the time being.
Since the death guys had ridden up to the Bar X, including the sheriff and Doc Black. The Doc had put the killing at some time within the hour preceding Sam’s discovery of the body, he couldn’t get nearer than that, which wasn’t very helpful. The sheriff had asked questions but apparently hadn’t got anywhere. He’d questioned Tex carefully about his movements that evening and up to a point, but only up to a point, Tex had told him the facts. He’d said that he’d been down to the River and talked to the Parson – implying as he had done to Linda, that he was from now on working in with the Parson. Sam hadn’t been present when he pulled this one. Tex had stated that on the way back he met Pop Dwight, but that was all. He said nothing about seeing Linda Forbes nor about the sight they’d had of Doc Black and Poston himself. Pop wouldn’t talk, Tex had put him up to that soon after the murder had been discovered.
Eventually the sheriff had ridden away, taking the Doc with him. He hadn’t said anything about the near-lynching incident nor about the card sharping down at the hotel. Tex took it that maybe the Parson had already had a word with him; maybe he had told the sheriff that he’d gained a new recruit and warned Poston to lay off. The enquiries could be just for the look of the thing. There wasn’t any proof yet that the Parson had swallowed Tex’s bluff down at the hotel, but it could be that way. Tex hoped so.
The morning dragged by. Sam went down to the settlement to have a look around and pick up any gossip that was going. Tex stayed at the ranch, which as he realized when Dave’s papers were examined, was now his property. Dave had left it to him, having no other relations. Sam’s first thought after Tex and Pop had reached the Bar X after the murder was that Tex must stay. There was even more reason now than before. The protection racket had been bad enough, but the murder of old Dave was worse. Sam wanted retribution handed out. Tex had got to stay.
‘I reckon you’ll do that?’ he asked anxiously.
Tex didn’t hesitate. Sure he’d stay – and he’d get the guy who’d bumped off Dave. He spent some time while Sam was out looking around and questioning the cowhands who had been in the bunkhouse during the vital hour on the previous evening. From them he didn’t learn much of importance because they’d been taking their leisure, playing poker or lying around listening to a guy who was pretty good with the guitar. There’d evidently been quite a row going on in the bunkhouse. None of them had heard anything. Nor had the cook, who had been in the ranch-house kitchen asleep.
Tex knew from Sam much of what had happened. Dave and Sam had been together in the living-room, talking, when Sam thought he heard a noise outside on the verandah. He’d slipped out to have a look-see, had glimpsed a vague shadow and had gone after whoever it was. He’d lost the guy but had scouted for him. He’d been gone some time, moving around the home corral and going farther afield when he thought he saw somebody moving across the home grazing-grounds. Eventually he’d returned to the ranch-house. He had stumbled over Dave lying there with a knife in his back. Dave must have left the house at some time after Sam. He had been attacked and killed. Sam had found the body only five minutes before Tex and Pop had arrived, but he’d been scouting around for some long time before then, at least half an hour he reckoned, maybe more, so there was no telling exactly when Dave was bumped off.
When Sam got back from the River he brought one item of information that interested Tex. Sam had learned, by casual conversation, that Buck Forbes had been away from the Lazy Y during the previous evening – and he hadn’t been down at the hotel or the gambling saloon farther down Main Street.
‘Maybe he was up here killin’ Dave,’ grunted Sam.
There was no reason to suppose this, but Sam was in the mood to suspect anyone, apparently. He was on edge, looking desperately for revenge and as he said angry with himself for leaving Dave alone. If he hadn’t gone off scouting Dave would be alive right now.
Tex did what he could to convince him that this was hay-wire thinking, but Sam refused to be comforted.
‘I guess it ain’t no use talkin’,’ he said. ‘Talk don’t get you nowhere.’
Tex liked action all right, but he knew that sometimes talk was necessary. After they’d eaten at midday he got around to talking. By that time Pop Dwight had arrived at the Bar X. He’d spent part of the night at the ranch, but then had returned to the River. Now he was back – and Tex got down to the talk Sam didn’t reckon was any use. There were a whole lot of leads and they had to be discussed. Some of them, one in particular, neither Sam nor Pop yet knew anything about. And nobody had any idea why Dave had been bumped off. Tex himself could only guess. He didn’t like guessing, but at the moment that was all that could be done. But it was necessary to sort out the tangle of leads as well as he could.
He got Sam and Pop into the living-room, locked the door, and then got down to business.
‘I reckon we got to talk,’ he grunted. ‘I been doin’ some thinkin’ this morning. We’ll start from the beginnin’. I went down to the hotel last night like we arranged. I’ll give you that first.’
He described what had happened at the settlement and the hotel, briefly recounting how he had ensured that the hotel should be emptied so that he could have a look inside the Parson’s safe. He went on to explain what he had found and how the Parson had interrupted him.
‘I pulled a bluff,’ he added, ‘and maybe it worked out. I ain’t sure ’bout that yet.’
Sam and Pop didn’t interrupt him but listened with close attention, this being the first opportunity Tex had of explaining the hotel work-out.
‘OK, so there you have it,’ continued Tex. ‘Buck Forbes don’t pay any dues, it seems, but he’s been losin’ very heavy to the Parson at poker. Werner, the guy who owns the Block Diamond, he’s been payin’ the Parson regular over and above the protection dues. I’ve got a hunch ’bout that … maybe he’s bein’ blackmailed. And the Parson is mighty careful to split his profits into two … sure, that’s interestin’.’
‘I don’t get it,’ muttered Sam. ‘And it ain’t got nothin’ to do with the killin’. The Parson didn’t bump off Dave ‘ccordin’ to you – he was down at the River.’
‘Sure, an’ he stayed there after you left, Tex, I got that hard,’ contributed Pop. ‘I went along to the hotel this mornin’, had a look around an’ a talk with the Parson an’ some o’ the boys. He was down there all night. The fire set him back.’
‘He got any idea I started it?’ asked Tex.
‘I didn’t get that far, the Parson’s canny. Maybe he’s on to you, maybe he ain’t … but there was somethin’ I did get. It could be important.’
Pop broke off, staring out of the window at a cowhand walking across to the bunkhouse, a short, stubby guy.
‘There’s Brady,’ he continued slowly. ‘He was down at the hotel this mornin’. He don’t know I saw him, an’ neither does the Parson. He was with the Parson an’ he took some dollars from him.’
Sam gave an exclamation. Brady had been with the Bar X outfit for just over a year. He’d come from south of the border, so he’d stated when Dave took him on. Sam liked him well enough, he’d always been efficient.
‘You reckon he’s in with the Parson?’ he demanded.
‘Could be – he was takin’ dough. Brady gets around, I’ve noticed him up here a few times slidin’ about kinda furtive. If he is in with the Parson maybe your bluff won’t work, Tex, not if Brady knows for sure you’re on the level an’ told the Parson. You talked ’bout what you meant to do down at the hotel last night … we ain’t sure Brady didn’t listen-in.’
Tex said nothing for a bit. There was no cast-iron proof that Brady was in with the Parson, only surmise that he had listened-in to the plans laid before Tex went to the hotel, but just the same it was something to be borne in mind.
Sam reckoned so, too. The house was wooden, eavesdropping was by no means impossible. When plans had been discussed nothing had been said about Tex starting a fire to get the guys out of the hotel, but the idea of busting open the Parson’s safe had been fully discussed. If the Parson had been told that much it wasn’t likely he’d go big for Tex’s bluff.
‘Guess we got to watch Brady,’ he muttered.
‘Sure, but it ain’t important at the moment. If the Parson’s on to me it don’t matter all that, he won’t get me again. I want to get back to the killin’.’
There were leads. Pop had seen Doc Black and had trailed him but lost him. Then he’d seen Poston, riding from the direction of the Bar X. Either of them Sam might have glimpsed a bit later after he’d left Dave in the living-room. Both Tex himself had seen after he’d met up with Pop again on leaving the settlement. One of the guys could have bumped off Dave, or both of them working together.
‘Sure, but I don’t get why,’ muttered Pop. ‘Dave paid the Parson his dough, what’d he want to set his boys on him for?’
Tex didn’t know, didn’t know for sure yet that Doc Black was in with the Parson, though it looked that way considering everything, remembering that the Doc had been up in the foothills when the gun battle against the Kid was in progress. Tex reckoned the sheriff was certainly in with the Parson.
Maybe they hadn’t come to bump off Dave but for some other reason. It could be they’d come after Tex himself, that after Sam had lost whichever of them he’d heard outside Dave had gone out to explore and had surprised either the Doc or Poston, getting killed for his pains. It could be that way, but it was only guesswork.
‘How ’bout the Kid?’ asked Pop. ‘Maybe he was still hangin’ around last night. He ain’t above lootin’ a ranch, I guess, nor above killin’.’
Tex shrugged his shoulders. Pop might be right, but there were reasons against it. For one thing the Kid was experienced and wasn’t likely to try breaking into a ranch-house with a couple of dozen cowhands in the bunkhouse right near. This same argument made him wonder whether the Doc and Poston would have risked getting after him himself, too. Another reason against the Kid theory was that it was known that the bandit always went for pretty big loot. The Bar X was run down, there wasn’t much worth taking at the place. The Kid was sure to realize that. A third point was that a knife had been used, which wasn’t the Kid’s weapon.
Guys tended to stick to their chosen weapons, as Tex knew. The Kid had the reputation of fighting fair, using guns. Tex didn’t reckon he’d killed Dave; the murder was linked with the Parson’s set-up.
Getting back to the Doc and Poston, who if they’d had a hand in the killing had acted on the Parson’s orders, that went without saying, it wasn’t sure exactly when they’d done it. It seemed that Sam had left the house at about the time Tex himself was clearing from the hotel. If the murder had been committed pretty soon after Sam had left the Doc could have done it, but not later, for then he had been a long way down the trail. The same applied to the sheriff.
Why he’d retraced his steps later and come up trail again from the other direction, Tex couldn’t know, nor why the Doc had turned off.
He reckoned it was time to reveal to Sam that he’d encountered Linda; and to Pop about the bloodstains.
‘I ain’t finished yet,’ he said heavily. ‘I met up with Linda Forbes. Pop knows that, but you don’t Sam.’
Briefly he described the encounter. Sam stared at him.
‘Heck, the dame … an’ Buck was away from the Lazy Y, that’s somethin’ maybe you’ve forgotten?’
Tex hadn’t forgotten it. But he still hadn’t finished.
‘She had blood on her shirt sleeve,’ he stated flatly. ‘She don’t know I saw it. I guess I didn’t talk about it. I didn’t know then that Dave had handed in his checks.’
There was silence while this lot was digested. It was broken by Pop.
‘It don’t make sense,’ he muttered. ‘Linda ain’t … heck, she ain’t a killer.’
Sam’s face was puckered. Then he spoke.
‘Maybe she ain’t, though she can use a gun OK. But maybe she knows a lot.’
He was voicing Tex’s own thoughts. He didn’t like them but he couldn’t avoid them. Maybe the girl had picked up the stains innocently, but much as he wanted to believe this Tex couldn’t. Coincidence was all right up to a point, but not beyond it.
‘I guess we got to talk to the dame,’ muttered Sam. ‘If she knows anythin’ she’s got to talk.’
Tex nodded. Again Sam was voicing his thoughts, thoughts that had been with him all morning. There had got to be a show-down with Linda Forbes – but maybe not just yet. If she knew anything she wouldn’t talk unless forced. Tex didn’t see himself manhandling her nor allowing anyone else to do that. But maybe she’d give a lead if she was watched.
Pop Dwight changed the subject, reverting to something briefly discussed earlier.
‘What you make o’ the fifty-fifty splittin’ o’ the profits?’ he asked abruptly.
Tex brought his attention back to Pop. He began to roll a cigarette.
‘I guess maybe somethin’ could be made o’ that,’ he replied. ‘You think about it, Pop, an’ I reckon you’ll be able to work it out.’
Pop Dwight wrinkled his forehead, stuck out his underlip.
‘You mean you reckon…?’
He got no farther for through the closed window leading on to the verandah came the sound of approaching riders. Tex went swiftly to the window in time to see a bunch of guys sweep into view, with the sheriff in the lead, behind him Doc Black and Buck Forbes. Sam and Pop, joining Tex, recognized one or two other ranchers. This wasn’t the Parson’s usual bunch of hoodlums, then, though there were a few of his boys present, including Jeb, his foreman.
‘What’s the game?’ muttered Sam, dropping his hand to his Colt. ‘I reckon this don’t look so good, Tex.’
‘Pop, go an’ find out,’ said Tex, turning to the older man. ‘I ain’t bein’ taken for another ride. If they’re after me take your hat off, that’ll give me the tip an’ I’ll vamoose. If it’s OK keep your hands away from your hat.’
Pop nodded, opened the window and passed through. Tex watched closely as he approached the bunch, now drawn up and dismounting by the corral. Sam had slipped out the back to make sure Tex’s pony was ready and waiting in case it was needed.
He saw Pop come up to the bunch and talk with Poston. He didn’t raise his hands to his Stetson, kept them both stuck in his gun-belt. Then he turned and with Poston, Buck, Doc Black and Werner of the Block Diamond – from the description Sam and Pop had provided of the guy Tex could place him – came back to the living-room.
As they crowded in Sam slipped back into the room, giving Tex the signal that the pony was ready. It looked like it wouldn’t be necessary, though. Pop was satisfied that there was no danger and Tex didn’t want to vamoose unless it was necessary. There was a lot he wanted to know.
‘The sheriff’s got a lead,’ said Pop. ‘He reckons he’s got proof Brady bumped off Dave. He’s come to get him.’
Sam let fall an oath. Tex stared at Poston and then at Doc Black whose saturnine face was inscrutable. Tex didn’t get there … but he did a moment later. The Doc’s hand moved slickly to his rod and drew it. At the same time Poston, Buck, Jeb and Werner drew their own rods.
‘OK, stick ’em up,’ snapped Poston, jerking his gun at Tex, while the others covered Sam and Pop. ‘I guess you fell for the baloney all right. We weren’t takin’ no risks with you, Scarron, seems like you’re mighty fly.’
Tex put up his hands, there was nothing else for it. Tex had been foxed by the phoney tale about Brady, and before him Pop had been taken for a ride.
‘OK, I guess there won’t be no trouble now,’ continued Poston. ‘The boys outside’ll look after the rest of the outfit. I’m arrestin’ you, Scarron, for murder. Steel and you Pop, I guess had better come along for questionin’.’
Sam broke into speech. What the heck did Poston think he was talkin’ about? Tex wasn’t a murderer.
‘He was down at the River when Dave was bumped off,’ rasped Sam, ‘He was talkin’ with the Parson.’
Tex would have stopped him if he could, because even now he didn’t want it known for sure that he’d aimed to bluff the Parson. If the Parson wasn’t yet certain of that, which might be the case, time might be bought while he questioned Tex and checked up. Things weren’t looking so good right now. The more time he could buy before the bunch tried lynching him again, this time for murder and this time, no doubt, with some apparently legal justification, the better. Time might be bought if the Parson wasn’t dead sure about what Tex had aimed to do, how much he knew and how much he’d talked. But Sam had shot his mouth and when the Parson heard about that he’d know that Tex had been bluffing, otherwise he wouldn’t have told Sam he’d been down at the hotel with the Parson.
But maybe it didn’t matter, not if Brady had eavesdropped and already talked. The fact that Brady’s name had been used to bluff was another, though minor indication that the guy was in with the Parson.
Buck Forbes broke in.
‘You got a nerve,’ he snarled. ‘You reckon the Parson’ll give this guy an alibi? He wasn’t down at the River last night, the Parson has said he ain’t seen him since he stacked the deck night before last. But I guess the Doc saw him.’
‘Sure, he saw him, hangin’ around up here,’ broke in Poston. ‘He saw him knife Brand … he’ll give evidence and then I guess we’ll string Scarron up.’
Pop wasn’t standing for that. He could prove that Tex had ridden to the River, that he’d met up with him later and then Tex had tried to strike the Doc’s trail.
‘And you were hangin’ around, Poston,’ added Pop, ‘we saw you … an’ earlier you came down the trail from these parts.’
Poston drew back his lips.
‘Reckon you know a mighty lot. Sure I was around, on official business, an’ so was the Doc. He’s been sworn in as a deputy. You ready to say you saw this guy Scarron reach the River? It don’t signify, because I guess you won’t be believed by the jury, brother. Scarron came back an’ bumped off Brand … I reckon he wanted to lay hands on the ranch, we all know it’s his now, Brand talked ’bout who he was leavin’ it to. The Doc saw him knife the old guy but he couldn’t do anythin’ to stop him. He ought to have told me before what he saw, but seems like he was hopin’ to get Scarron himself, only then he had the sense to change his mind and lay information.’
It was about the phoniest tale ever put up. The holes in it would have made a net … but that didn’t signify, as Tex realized. This was a frame-up, a clumsy one, but it would serve its purpose. Justice in these isolated parts was dispensed by the sheriff. Sure there’d be a kind of court, with a jury, but that’d be packed. In the Phoenix court the charge wouldn’t lie, but it would out here. The Parson would see to that; and maybe somebody else would take a hand, an unobtrusive hand. Tex hadn’t forgotten the fifty per cent splitting of the Parson’s careful accounts.
Tex hadn’t reckoned on being grabbed again, but he’d had a fast one pulled on him. He hadn’t expected a move of this sort – it was clever, no doubt about that. And maybe he wouldn’t live to be tried. That was a possibility, in fact a probability. He reckoned Sam and Pop were for it by now, too. The Parson probably judged that Pop was in with him, would do when it was reported that Pop had tried to give him an alibi. Sam and Pop would be bumped as well.
The outlook wasn’t all that hot.