Ambush Range Read online

  For a moment, he stood on the sidewalk, looking around at the town. There was some activity around the law office, and he saw Pete Ogden, the undertaker, then Jev Irving, the town carpenter, going into the office. He guessed there was a meeting of the town council in the office, and grinned tightly as he turned and walked in the opposite direction. He wanted nothing to do with that business. It was none of his affair. He had been asked his opinion about the matter and had given it, but had been ignored. Now the town could sort out its own problems. He had worries of his own, and they had priority, to his way of thinking.

  “Hi, Ward,” a voice called to him and he turned his head and looked into the inscrutable face of Frank Maitland, who owned the two saloons in town. Maitland was an overweight man dressed in a good gray suit, aged about fifty-three, and he looked prosperous. He had been one of the most vociferous supporters of the railroad venture because he stood to make the most from the invasion of trail-hands, but he looked grim and discomfited this morning, and Merrill figured it was because last night’s shooting had taken place in his big saloon.

  “Hi, Frank,” Merrill responded. “On your way to the meeting in the law office?”

  “So you know about that, huh? Ain’t you going? The sheriff wants to talk to you. I reckon you’re a natural for what has been suggested.”

  “I’m not the type of fool to step in and do the dirty work for the town,” Merrill retorted. “I’ve got my own life to lead, Frank.”

  “That ain’t the way a man should think,” came the easy reply. “I reckon a man should think of the good of the community.”

  “Sure he should, and I guess that’s why you were so keen to have the trail-herds coming in here, huh? I reckon you’re gonna cream off a big percentage of your fat profits from the trail-hands and put them to good use around the town, huh?”

  Maitland stared at him for a moment, then grinned. He nodded slowly. “Okay, have your little joke, Ward,” he said gruffly. “But I reckon this problem is the responsibility of every man who lives in the county.”

  “Sure. I’ll be along later to talk to the sheriff. Right now I got a son to look for. He’s my first priority in everything, and I’m not gonna lose sight of that.”

  Maitland pulled a face and went on along the sidewalk, and Merrill gazed after the big saloon man for a moment. He turned again when boots thudded at his back, and saw Ezra Duncan emerging from the hardware store. Duncan also ran the gunshop, and was a member of the town council.

  “Glad to see you in town, Ward,” Duncan greeted. “Walk with me to the sheriff’s office, will you?”

  “No, thanks, Ezra. I know the way, and I got something else to do before I think of joining in the arguments that will be going on around town.” Merrill went on along the sidewalk, moving towards the outskirts of town where the cattle-pens lay.

  He looked around critically as he walked along the sidewalk. This was his town, had been for ten years, and he did not like the changes he knew would inevitably come. But a great many things happened in the name of progress, and some of them were not good. He reached the end of the sidewalk and paused to gaze at the railroad depot and the pens Dust was rising where a bunch of cattle was being herded to a ramp that led into one of the cattle-cars standing on the tracks. There was a locomotive attached to the long train of cars, and a couple of men were on the footplate.

  Looking around for Lonnie, he suddenly spotted the boy sitting atop a corral fence, watching the antics of half a dozen lounging cowboys. The men were dusty, trail-weary, and were relaxing now their long trail was at an end. Merrill knew from experience that they would stick around only so long as their money lasted. Then they would drift south again to their home range.

  He went forward to his son’s side, and heard some of the cowboys calling to him, demanding to know if he had a sister at home who was older, and Merrill compressed his lips. Lonnie was not accustomed to such talk, and was beginning to explain about his family. But one of the cowhands, a burly, oldish man, got to his feet and uncoiled a long whip. He shook out the coils and cracked the whip, sending the lash flicking throogh the air to wrap around Lonnie’s neck. Before Merrill could reach his son, the cowhand jerked on the handle of the whip and pulled Lonnie off the rail into the thick dust. He shook the whip free as Lonnie hit the ground.

  Merrill cleared the fence with a single bound, landing in the dust as Lonnie tried to scramble to his feet. The boy was frightened, and looked up wildly as his father appeared at his side The cowhand was whipping back the lash, and Merrill watched him even as he reached down and pulled Lonnie to his feet.

  “What’s going on?” he demanded in a harsh voice. “Are you hurt, Lonnie?”

  “What for are you horning in, mister?” the cowhand demanded truculently. “We don’t want no kids hanging around here.”

  “He’s my son, and I want to know why you used a whip on him,” Merrill replied.

  “It didn’t hurt him none. I could have tore his head off if I’d wanted.”

  “You ever tried taking that whip to someone nearer your own size?” Merrill asked thinly, his anger aroused.

  Someone in the group of watching cowpokes guffawed harshly, and the man with the whip rounded on the group angrily. It was easy to see that he carried a lot of weight among them, for they fell silent at once. Then he returned his gaze to Merrill.

  “You figure I can’t take this whip to a man?” he asked in a deceptively casual voice.

  “You had no call to pick on a boy,” Merrill replied. “Don’t you fellers know that you’ve got a tough job as it is to make friends with these townsfolk?”

  “Who in hell wants to be friends?” the man with the whip drawled. “Hell, all we want is some fun before we pull out back to home pasture.”

  “Well, you’re going the wrong way about it to leave in the same condition you arrived,” Merrill said through his teeth.

  The whip cracked and the lash came snaking towards Merrill, who moved forward a swift pace so that the end of the whip missed him. He seized hold of the plaited rawhide and jerked angrily, pulling the whip completely out of the cowhand’s grasp. The watching cowpokes bellowed with laughter, and that angered the older man more than Merrill’s action. The whip lay in the dust between them, and Merrill half turned to motion for Lonnie to climb back over the fence. But the puncher had no intention of letting the matter rest.

  “You two-bit farmer’s boy!” he snarled. “I’ll teach you to try and get the better of Jake Sarn. Who in hell do you think you are?”

  The next instant, he was reaching for the holstered gun on his right hip, and Merrill swung back to face him, his eyes suddenly bleak.

  Two

  Merrill was only conscious of the sudden movement among the rest of the cowpunchers, for they were sitting directly behind the man reaching for his gun. He had no wish to fight over such an incident, but the cowboy was drawing on him with a fast movement, and he clawed out his own weapon, his strong thumb earing back the hammer as the long barrel began to lift. The puncher was also clearing leather, his harsh face twisted into a sneer of hatred, and Merrill knew it was going to be close and was scared because Lonnie was close by him and in the line of fire. He dared not aim for a wing-shot, and swung up the Colt and fired swiftly, aiming for the cowboy’s belt buckle.

  His Colt blasted raucously and a puff of dust sprang off the front of the cowboy’s shirt. The man jerked backwards and went sprawling among the still moving cowboys, and his gun muzzle was pointed at the ground when his finger jerked convulsively against the trigger and fired a shot into the dust, which spanged upwards with a whine and flew through empty space.

  Merrill recocked his gun immediately and held it ready. The man who had drawn against him was lying on his back among the other punchers, who were now frozen by shock and staring at the dead body lying in the dust. The echoes of the shot drifted uneasily across the town, sounding sullen in the vast distance to the nearest horizon, and Merrill waited for reaction, standing like
a totem-pole, his feet apart and legs braced, his gun steady in his big right hand.

  “Jeez!” One of the cowboys started to get up, his eyes lifting from his dead pard. “Jake surely started something he couldn’t finish.”

  Merrill did not know what to expect. These cow-punchers had a reputation for sticking together, and there was seven of them. But they all arose and stared down at their dead pard before turning their attention to Merrill.

  “Jake alius did bite off more than he could chew,” another commented. “He started the play.”

  “But he sure didn’t finish it,” another retorted. “Now there’s gonna be a helluva lot of trouble.”

  “Is there anyone figuring to take up his argument where he dropped out of it?” Merrill demanded angrily. He wanted to get Lonnie away from here.

  “Jake had it coming,” a harsh voice cut in, and a cowman stepped into view from between two of the cattle-cars. “I saw what happened and Jake pulled his gun on you. He alius did fly off the handle, and there was no call for him to use that damn whip of his on the boy. You bested Jake in a fair fight, mister, and I’ll tell the sheriff that when he gets here. You’ll have no trouble from anyone in this outfit. None of them would have pulled a gun against Jake. He was mean right through to the backbone, and he was the best cowpuncher I ever had work for me. But he was short on temper and mean with it.”

  Merrill heaved a long sigh and holstered his gun slowly. He could hear the sound of the shot still grumbling in the distance, and his mind was filled with anger and shock. He was angry because such a trivial incident had forced a gun showdown, and he was shocked because he had killed a man.

  “If my son hadn’t been in the line of fire I would have tried for a wing-shot,” he said stiffly. “There was no time.”

  “Don’t blame yourself,” the cattleman said tightly. “Jake had it coming for years. But I never saw a faster gun than yours, mister. Who are you?”

  “Local rancher, but I was a US deputy marshal for some years. I’m sorry about this. You people had trouble in town last night, I heard.”

  “Nothing to do with the locals. It was a fight among themselves. You know what men are like at the end of a trail drive. They’ve been hard at it for over two months. They’re just itching to get this stock loaded and off their hands. Then they can relax.” The cowman turned on the watching cowpunchers. “Come on, you men, jump to it. Get back to work and forget Jake. You all knew he had it coming, and there wasn’t a man among you would have faced up to him. I’ve been telling some of you for a long time now that there’s always someone around who’s faster with a gun. This surely proves it.”

  Merrill glanced around and his lips pulled tight when he saw a throng of townsfolk coming along the sidewalks, attracted by the shot. Sheriff Oakley was leading the bunch on the near sidewalk and Silas Kester, the town marshal,was on the far side of the street, coming forward with long strides.

  Merrill placed a heavy hand upon his son’s shoulder.

  Lonnie looked up at him, mingled shock and admiration in his eyes, and Merrill could wish that the boy had been any place but here. Then the townsfolk arrived, and Merrill stood motionless while the lawmen gathered to examine the dead man and listen to what had happened. Then Walt Oakley, the sheriff, came across to where Merrill was standing, his wrinkled face filled with shock and disbelief. He was fifty, a medium-sized man with sandy hair and a pair of narrowed blue eyes.

  “Jeez, Ward!” he exclaimed. “I didn’t know what to think when I heard the shot. But the last thing I would have imagined was you being involved in a shooting.”

  “The rancher told you how it happened?” Merrill demanded.

  “Yeah. You’re in the clear. That jasper asked for it, by the sound of it. But two killings in two days! Hell, that’s a real starter.”

  “You’ll want a statement from me,” Merrill cut in. “I’ll come along to your office and make it as soon as I’ve taken Lonnie out of this. He had to see the whole thing.”

  “You don’t have to worry about me, Pa,” the boy retorted. “That man asked for it. You couldn’t do anything but plug him.”

  “Cut out that kind of talk,” Merrill snapped, and Lonnie gazed at him with a hurt expression in his eyes. “A man’s life has just been cut off. The whys and wherefores of it don’t count. He asked for it, sure, but it doesn’t alter the fact that he’s dead now when he ought to be still breathing.”

  “Come off it,” Kester said, ambling up with a faint grin on his face. “He ain’t the first man you’ve killed, Ward, and I don’t figure he’ll be the last. All the more reason why we should have you as one of our special deputies. You got the necessary speed and ability to handle situations that are likely to crop up when the rest of the herds come in here.”

  “I don’t want anything to do with it,” Merrill said angrily. “I did my share when I worked for the law, but I’ve retired from that kind of a life and I don’t want, anything to do with this. Let’s get my statement down on paper, Walt, so I can take Lonnie home.”

  He turned and pushed his way through the crowd, taking his son with him, and the crowd parted to let him through, gazing at him with a new respect in their faces. When he reached the sidewalk, he found Kay Parry standing there, and she held out her hands to Lonnie while she looked into Merrill’s harshly set face.

  “I’ll take Lonnie back to the store with me, Ward,” she said, and he nodded and thanked her briefly, then walked on to the law office.

  He entered the office and slammed the door against the chattering voices outside, and when he drew his gun to reload the spent chamber, he realized that his hands were trembling. He clenched his teeth and then heaved a long sigh. It had been a long time since he had killed a man, and he did not like the return of the all too familiar feeling. Why the hell did they have to bring the railroad in here?

  The sheriff returned to the office, followed by Kester and the town council, and they all began to talk at once, some of the men complimenting Merrill on his prowess. He shrugged off their words and turned towards the door.

  “I’ll come back when you’re alone, Walt,” he told the sheriff. “I can’t stand this kind of talk. I just killed a man and everyone thinks I’m a big hero. Well, let them get on the street when the herds come in and see how they feel if they’ve got the guts and the skill to do what I’ve just done.”

  There was a sudden silence at his words, and he was aware that Kester was smiling as he jerked open the door and departed. He took a deep breath as he walked along the sidewalk to the store, and by the time he reached the establishment, his emotions were under control. He entered and found Lonnie inside, with Kay, and the girl was trying to talk around the terrible scene Lonnie had witnessed.

  Merrill looked critically at his son, wondering what effect the shooting would have upon him, and Lonnie ran to him, grinning broadly.

  “Pa, are you okay?” he demanded

  “Sure, son. What did you think they were gonna do to me, put me behind bars? It was self-defence, you know.”

  “Sure I know. You don’t have to tell me. I was there, remember? I saw that man start to pull his gun before you even thought about it, but you still beat him easy. I heard tell you was fast, but you ain’t done any shooting in a long time. I guess that sort of thing always stays with you.”

  “I guess it does.” Merrill nodded slowly. He looked at Kay, who was watching him intently. He felt disapproval in her gaze and tightened his lips. He had to fight against defending himself but he had no reason to feel guilty. It hurt like hell to have to kill a man. He had always felt that sort of thing keenly even when he had been working for the law. But, after a lay-off for years, it was doubly shocking to have a fight forced upon him and to have to kill to come out on top.

  “It’s a bad thing that happened, but those cattlemen live like that, don’t they? They’ve fought everything on their way north, including Indians, and they’re ready to fight anyone at the drop of a hat.”

  “He
didn’t have to pull his gun, but his pards said that he was mean right through I guess there’s no way to reason with men like that. But I’m gonna get out’ve town, Kay, just in case. When those others get some liquor into them there’s no telling what they might try to do, and I don’t want to be around to give them any kind of a chance.”

  She nodded. “Perhaps you’ll come into town on Sunday with Lonnie and come to supper,” she offered.

  “Thanks, but I figure to stick close to the spread for a while. I’m not gonna take any chances.”

  She looked as if she wanted to argue with him about it but shook her head and turned to a candy jar to give Lonnie another sugar stick.

  “You know your own business best, Ward. I’m sure you’ll do the right thing. We’ll see you when you come back to town.”

  He moved to the door and paused to gaze around the street. There was a grim party of four cowboys carrying the dead man along the street towards Pete Ogden’s place, and he realized that Ogden stood to gain a great deal out of the railroad’s decision to put rails into the town. There would be a whole lot more shooting and killing. This was only the beginning, and men like the undertaker would reap a grim harvest.

  He walked with Lonnie back to the stable and they fetched their horses. Herb Gwynn returned from the stock-yard, and wanted to talk about the incident, but Merrill swung into his saddle and motioned for his son to do the same. Then they rode out, and a sigh of relief escaped Merrill as they left the town. He swung in his saddle once to glance back, then faced his front resolutely and clenched his teeth. He remained silent for several miles, and so did Lonnie, until the boy broke the silence.

  “Pa, I’m sorry,” Lonnie said suddenly.

  “What for, boy?” Merrill dragged himself from his thoughts and looked at his son’s serious face.

  “You kept telling me to stay away from the stockyard. If I hadn’t gone down there it wouldn’t have happened.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” Merrill tried to make light of it now. “These things happen, and they are meant to happen. I guess that was why we rode into town today. I had to kill a man. There’s no way of understanding why some things have to happen, like the way your Ma died, but we have to face up to whatever comes along, and so you should not be sorry, Lonnie.”