The wild riders of the Breaks no longer mingled with other men with the
same freedom as of old. Some fifteen men throughout the country felt
themselves marked and set apart from others. Friends no longer
fraternized with them at the bars when they rode into the towns. Doors
which had always been open in the past were now opened furtively if at
all. Lukewarm adherents fell away from them and avoided them even more
studiously than the rest. This swift transition had sprung apparently
from no more than a whisper, a murderous rumor which persisted in the
face of flat denials issued from its supposititious source.
All through the range and as far south as the railroad it was current
gossip that the Three Bar would pay a thousand dollars reward for each
of fifteen men, a fast saddle horse thrown in and no questions asked.
The men were named, and if the rumor was based on truth it was
virtually placing a bounty on the scalps of certain men the same as the
State paid bounty on the scalps of wolves,--except that it was without
the sanction of the law.
This backfire rumor had established a definite line with fifteen men
outside, conspicuous and alone, and those who had once followed the
hazy middle ground of semi-lawlessness with perfect security now
hastened to become solid citizens whose every act would stand the
light; for the whispers seemed all-embracing and it was intimated that
new names would be added to the original list to include those who
fraternized with the ones outside the pale.
Those not branded by this alleged bounty system were quick to grasp the
beautiful simplicity of it all. Some recalled that a similar rumor,
supposed to have originated with old Con Ristine, had wiped out the
wild bunch that preyed on the Nations Cow-trail--that the Gallatin
clean-up had resulted from a like report which Al Moody was reported to
have launched.
It had the effect of causing the men so branded to view all others with
suspicion, as possible aspirants out to collect the bounty on their
heads. It sowed distrust among their own ranks for there was always
the chance that one, in seeking safety for himself, might collect the
blood-money posted for another. The reference to the fast saddle horse
was guarantee that no questions would be asked before the price was
paid and no questions answered after the recipient had ridden away from
the Three Bar with his spoils.
Yet, if the thing were true, it was the most flagrant violation of the
law ever launched, even in the Coldriver Strip where transgression was
the rule. For the branded men were not wanted on any charge. It was
merely the wholesale posting of rewards for the lives of some fifteen
citizens whose standing in the community was legally the same as the
rest,--prize money offered by an individual concern for its enemies
without reference to the law. On every possible occasion Harris flatly
denied that there was a shred of truth in the report. Al Moody, years
before, had also denied his responsibility for the rumors on the
Gallatin range; and Con Ristine had repudiated all knowledge of the
whispers that traveled the Nations Trail. But in each case these very
natural denials had served only to strengthen men's belief in the truth
of the reports; and inevitably they had established a hard line that
cut off the men so named from the rest of the countryside.
Harris knew that his own life was forfeit any time he chanced to ride
alone. He had not a doubt but that Slade had put a price on his head
and that perhaps a dozen men were patiently waiting for a chance at
him. Any man whose name appeared on the black list which he was
supposed to have sponsored would overlook no opportunity to retaliate
in kind. In addition to this there was always the chance of a swift
raid on the men who had filed their homestead rights in the valley.
As a consequence Harris had taken every possible precaution. Winter
had claimed the range and hardened the ground with frost. The full
force of Three Bar hands had been kept on the pay roll instead of being
let off immediately after the beef was shipped. These riders were
stationed in line camps out on the range, their ostensible purpose
being to hold all Three Bar cows close to the home ranch but in reality
they served two ends, acting as a cordon of guards as well. The two
woodcutters were camped in the edge of the hills behind the ranch and
daily patrolled the drifts that now lay deep in the timber for signs of
skulkers who might have slipped down from behind and stationed
themselves on some point overlooking the corrals.
Three times in as many weeks strangers drifting in from other
localities stopped in Coldriver and profanely reported the fact that
for no reason whatever, while passing through the Three Bar range, they
had been held up and forced to state their business in that
neighborhood.
Hostilities had ceased. The Three Bar girl had anticipated a series of
raids against the cows wearing her brand, swift forays in isolated
points of her range, but no stock losses were reported. On the surface
it appeared that Slade had given up all thought of harassing the Three
Bar. But the girl had come to know Slade. He would never recede from
his former stand. She noted that Harris's vigilance was never for an
instant relaxed and it was gradually impressed upon her that the
cessation of petty annoyances held more of menace than of assurance.
Slade had seen that the Three Bar was not to be discouraged in its
course and he now waited for an opportunity to launch a blow that would
cripple, striking simultaneously at every exposed point and delaying
only for a propitious time. In the face of continued immunity she was
filled with a growing conviction of impending trouble.
Christmas had found the range covered with a fresh tracking snow which
precluded possibility of a raid and all hands had been summoned to the
home ranch for a two-day rest. Harris knew that cowhands, no matter
how loyal to the brand that pays them, are a restless lot and must have
their periodical fling to break the monotony of lonely days; so he had
provided food and drink in abundance. The frolic was over and the
hands back on the range. Harris sat with Billie before her fire.
"They'll be satisfied for another two months," he said. "Then we'll
have to call them in for another spree."
This evening conference before the fire had come to be a nightly
occurrence. Together they went over the details of the work
accomplished during the day and mapped out those for the next. From
outside came the crunch of hoofs and the screech of logs on the frozen
trail as the last mule team came down with its load.
Most of the logs had been skidded down and the men now worked in pairs,
erecting the cabins on each filing. The cedar posts had been hauled
and strung out along the prospective fence lines. The wagons, under
heavy guard, had made two trips to the railroad to freight in more
implements and supplies. Thousands of pounds of seed oats and alfalfa
seed were stored at the Three Bar along with sixty hundred of cement.
"Another two months and the cabins will be roofed and finished," Harris
said. "Then we'll be through till the frost is out of the ground.
We'll start building fence as soon as you can sink a post hole; and
we'll have time to break out another two hundred acres of ground before
time to seed it down."
The girl nodded without comment, content to leave him to his thoughts,
her mind pleasantly occupied with her own. For long her evenings had
been lonely but now she had come to look forward to the conferences
before the blazing logs. She had made no attempt to analyze the
reasons for the new contentment which had transformed her evenings,
formerly periods of drab reflections, into the most pleasant portion of
each day.
Harris gazed about the familiar room and wondered what the future held
out to him if he should be forced to spend his evenings alone after
having shared them for six months with the Three Bar girl. The weekly
letters still came from Deane. The girl valued Harris as a friend and
partner without apparent trace of more intimate regard. He wondered
which would prevail, the ties which bound her to the life she had
always known or the lure of the new life which beckoned.
Suddenly, without having sought it, the explanation of her recent
contentment bubbled to the surface of the girl's consciousness, and she
turned and gazed at Harris. Night after night she had sat here with
old Cal Warren and discussed the details of their work and after his
passing her evenings had been hours of restlessness. Now Harris, the
partner, had crept into the father's place,--had in a measure filled
the void.
Harris rose and flicked the ash from his cigarette, suppressing the
desire to take her in his arms, for he knew that time had not yet come.
As he opened the door to leave an eddy of steam curled in at the
opening as the warm air of the room battled on the threshold with the
thirty-below temperature of the outside world. She heard the hissing
crunch of his boots on the frozen crust--and reached for Deane's
Christmas letter to reread it for perhaps the fifth time.
During the night a chinook poured its warm breath over the hills and
morning found the snow crumpling before it. The surface was a pulpy
mass intersected by rivulets. Water trickled from the eaves of the
buildings and there was a breath of spring in the air; false assurance
for those who knew, for it was inevitable that, once the chinook had
passed, bitter frost would clamp down once more.
Such days, however, inspire plans for spring and Billie rode with
Harris through the lower field as he pointed out the various fence
lines and the lay of the ditches and laterals which would carry water
to irrigate the meadow, all these to be installed as soon as winter
should lose its grip.
As Harris outlined his plans his words were tinged with optimism and he
allowed no hint of possible disaster to creep into his speech. But the
girl was conscious of that hovering uncertainty, the feeling that the
months of peace were but to lure her into a false sense of security and
that Slade would pounce on the Three Bar from all angles at once
whenever the time was right.
She found some consolation in the fact that Lang's men no longer rode
through her range at will, but skirted it in their trips to and from
the Breaks. She attributed this solely to Harris's precautions in the
matter of outguards, for of all those within a hundred miles she was
perhaps the single one who had not heard of the sinister rumor that was
cutting Lang and his men off from the rest of the world.
Men were discussing it wherever they met; in Coldriver they were
speculating on the possible results, the same in the railroad towns;
across the Idaho line and south into Utah it was the topic of the day.
And the single patron of Brill's store found the same question
uppermost in his mind.
Carson was one of the many who were neither wholly good nor hopelessly
bad, one who had drifted with the easy current of the middle course.
And he was wondering if that middle course would continue to prove
safe. He played solitaire to pass the time. His horse and saddle had
been lost in a stud-poker game just prior to his catching the stage to
Brill's, where his credit had always been good. He rose, stretched and
accosted Brill.
"Put me down for a quart," he said.
"Whenever you put down the cash," Brill returned.
"What's the matter with my credit?" Carson demanded. "I've always
paid."
Brill reached for a book, opened it and slid it on to the bar. He
flipped the pages and indicated a number of accounts ruled off with red
ink.
"So did Harper," he said. "He always paid; and Canfield--and Magill;
these others too. Their credit was good but they've all gone
somewheres I can't follow to collect. And they was owing me." He
tapped a double account.
"Bangs was into me a little. Old Rile paid up for him and then got it
in his turn--with his name down for a hundred on my books. Harris and
Billie Warren paid up for Rile. Now just whoever do you surmise will
pay up for you?"
"Me?" Carson inquired. "Why, I ain't dead. I'm clear alive."
"So was they when I charged those accounts," Brill said. "But it looks
like stormy days ahead. I sell for cash."
"I'm not on this death list, if that's what you're referring to,"
Carson announced.
"But it's easy to get enrolled," Brill said. "Your name's liable to
show up on it any time. Seen Lang in the last few days?"
"Not in the last few months," Carson stated. "Nor yet in the next few
years. He's no friend of mine."
"I sort of remember you used to be right comradely," Brill remarked.
"That's before I really knowed Lang intimate," Carson said. "He didn't
strike me as such a bad sort at first; but now he's going too strong.
Folks are getting plum down on him."
"What you mean is that folks who used to be friendly are growing spooky
about getting their own names on that list," Brill said. "That's what
has opened their eyes."
"Maybe so," the thirsty man confessed. "But anyway, I'm through."
"They're all through!" Brill said. "A hundred others just like you,
scattered here and there. It's come to them recent just what a bad lot
Lang is. It's hell what a whisper can do."
"It is when that whisper is backed by a thousand-dollar reward," Carson
agreed. "If he really pays up it'll wreck Lang's little snap for sure."
Brill dabbed his cloth at an imaginary spot on the polished slab and
nodded without comment.
"I reckon he launched that scheme because Slade put a price on him
first," Carson said.
"I didn't know Slade was into this," Brill stated softly. "There's no
proof of that. Not a shred."
"No more than there's any proof that Harris is behind these rewards,"
Carson said. "But you know that Slade is out to wreck the Three Bar
since they've planted squatters there."
The storekeeper failed to respond.
"There's likely a dozen men looking for Harris right now," Carson
prophesied.
"But it's hard for one of 'em to get within ten miles of the ranch,"
Brill observed. "So while they're maybe looking for him it's right
difficult to see him that far off."
"I don't mind admitting that I'm for Harris--as against Slade," Carson
said.
"Just between us two I don't mind confessing that I'm neutral--as
against everything else," Brill returned.
"Now you know how I'm lined up. Do I get that quart?" Carson urged.
"I knew how you was lined up months back." Brill turned on a dry smile.
"I ain't told a soul till right now," Carson objected. "So how could
you know?"
"You didn't need to tell. As soon as that rumor leaked out it was a
cinch where you'd stand. And a hundred others are crowding on to the
same foothold along with you."
"And why not?" Carson demanded. "Who wants to get a thousand plastered
on his scalp? It would tempt a man's best friends."
"Or scare 'em off," the storekeeper commented. "Which is all the same
in the end."
A half dozen men clattered up in front and surged through the door.
More arrivals followed as the regular afternoon crowd gathered before
the bar. There were many jobless hands drifting from one ranch to the
next, "grublining" on each brand for a week or more at a time during
the slack winter months.
Carpenter rode up alone. Brill lowered one lid and jerked his head
toward Carson.
"Broke--and reformed," he said. "Maybe."
Some minutes later Carp bought the thirsty man a drink.
"You looking for a job?" he asked. "I can use you down my way."
Carson was well versed in the bends of the devious trail and Carp's
ways smacked of irregularities. Carson had ideas of his own why the
other man was allowed to start up an outfit down in Slade's range. One
day Carp's name would be cited on the black list. As diplomatically as
possible he refused the offer of a job.
The storekeeper smiled as he noted this. Carson had turned into a
solid citizen almost overnight. As Carp left him and joined another
group Brill poured Carson a drink.
"You're a fair risk at that--as long as you stay cautious," he
remarked. "I'll stake you to a horse and saddle. You can ride the
grubline with the rest of the boys till spring and get a job when work
opens up." He slid a bottle across the bar. "Here's your quart."
He stood looking after him as Carson moved to a table and motioned
several others to join him over the bottle.
"That's about the tenth reformation that's transpired under my eyes in
as many days," Brill mused. "Give us time and this community will turn
pure and spotless. I don't mind any man's owing me if he stands a fair
show to go on living."
The sheriff dropped in for one of his infrequent visits to Brill's. He
waved all hands to a drink.
"I've just been out to the Three Bar to see Harris," he announced.
"And asked him about this news that's been floating about. He came
right out flat and says he's not offering a reward. That's all a
mistake."
Every man in the room grinned at this statement. There was no other
possible reply that Harris could make.
"Of course," the sheriff said reflectively. "Of course there's just a
chance that Cal lied to me."
"He lied all right," Carp prophesied. "I'd bet my shirt he'll stand to
pay the price for every man that's cited on that list."
"Shaw," the sheriff deprecated. "That's dead against the law, that is.
He can't do that."
"He will do it," Carp predicted. "If I was on that list I'd be moving
for somewheres a long ways remote from here."
"Then you'd better be starting," Alden counseled mildly. "For Harris
was just telling me that your name had got mixed up with it. Morrow's
name has sprung up too. Cal seemed mystified as to how it had come
about for he says you and Morrow never rode with the others on the
list. He couldn't figure how this thing come to start."
"Figure!" Carp snapped. "He figured it out himself, who else? Are you
going to stand for his putting a price on every man he happens to
dislike?"
"But he says he don't know anything about it," the sheriff
expostulated. "So how can I prove he does? I'd like to know for sure.
If I thought he was actually set to pay those rewards I'd have to ride
over and remonstrate with Cal. That would be in defiance of the law."
One or two who had been drinking with Carp moved over to speak with
others and failed to return. He was left standing alone at the bar.
He shrugged his shoulders and went out.
"Folks are considerable like sheep," Brill observed. It occurred to
him that in every saloon and in every bunk house within a hundred miles
the topic of conversation was the same.
He lowered one lid as he looked at the sheriff and jerked his head
toward Carson.
"He's broke--and reformed," he said. "Absolutely."
The sheriff drew Carson aside.
"If you're wanting a job I'll stake you to an outfit and feed you
through till spring. Forty a month from then on. I'll need a parcel
of deputies, likely, after that."
"You've got one," Carson stated. "I'll sign now."
The storekeeper, the sheriff and the new deputy stood at one end of the
bar.
"It's queer that folks don't see the real object of this rumor," Brill
observed.
"Its object is to clean out the hardest citizens in the country,"
Carson said. "That's why they're named. Why else?"
"The object is to clean up the rest of the country first," Brill said.
Carson grunted his disbelief.
"If Harris only wanted to wipe out those on the list he wouldn't go to
all this fuss," Brill explained. "He'd just put on an extra bunch of
hands and raid the Breaks himself. Swear he caught them running off a
bunch of Three Bar cows. Simpler and considerable less expense."
"Then what's the object of this bounty?" Carson insisted.
"That's aimed at the doubtful folks," Brill stated. "Folks that was on
the fence--like you. This death list makes them spooky and they turn
into good little citizens in one round of the clock. It leaves the
worst ones outside without a friend. Every one lined up solid behind
the law. Public sentiment will start running strong against those
outside. Then it'll be easy for the sheriff and a bunch of
deputies--like you--to clean the country up from end to end, with the
whole community backing your play."
Carson considered this for some time.
"Well, I can furnish the deputies," he said at last. "Boys that are
strong for law and order from first to last."
"I've got about all I need," the sheriff said. "A dozen or so. Mostly
old friends of yours. I've picked 'em up on and off in the last two
weeks. They're strong for upholding the last letter of the law--just
like you said."
"A dozen?" Carson asked. "How'll you raise the money to pay that many
at once?"
"I'm sort of expecting maybe the Three Bar will make up the deficit,"
Alden said. "It's cheaper than paying rewards. That's another reason
I don't think Cal had a hand in this blacklist report."
The storekeeper grinned.
"Surely not. Surely not. I'd never suspect him of that," he said.
"But all the same it's working just as well as if he really had."