CAMPAIGN GUNS
Of course Yuma had been amply punished for his part in the attack on
Nellie Hazelton, but there still remained Dunlavey--who had instigated
it. Hollis was aware of the uselessness of bringing a charge against
Dunlavey--he had not forgotten his experience with Bill Watkins when he
had attempted to have Greasy brought to justice. He believed that he
would not have brought such a charge had there been any probability of
the sheriff taking action. He felt that in inciting Yuma to attack
Nellie, Dunlavey had also contemplated a blow at him. The man's devilish
ingenuity appalled him, but it also aroused a fierce anger in his heart
that, in the absence of a powerful will, would have moved him to
immediate vengeance.
But he contemplated no immediate action. Besides the attack on Nellie
Hazelton there was another score to settle with Dunlavey, and when the
time came for a final accounting he told himself that he would settle
both. He knew there would come such a time. From the beginning he had
felt that he and the Circle Cross manager were marked by fate for a
clash. He was eager for it, but content to wait until the appointed
time. And he knew that the time was not far distant.
Therefore he remained silent regarding the incident, and except to
Norton and his wife, Nellie Hazelton, Ten Spot, and himself, the
disappearance of Yuma remained a mystery.
Dunlavey, perhaps, might have had his suspicions, but if so he
communicated them to no one, and so as the days passed the mystery
ceased to be discussed and Yuma was forgotten.
Hollis received a letter from Weary, dated "Chicago," announcing the
safe arrival of himself and Ed Hazelton. "Town" suited him to a "T," he
wrote. But Doctor Hammond would not operate at once--he wanted time to
study the symptoms of Ed's malady. That was all. Hollis turned this
letter over to Nellie, with another from Ed, addressed to her--whose
contents remained a mystery to him.
Ben Allen had returned from his visit to the small ranchers in the
vicinity, had confided to Hollis that he had "mixed a little politics
with business," and then, after receiving a telegram from the Secretary
of the Interior, had taken himself off to Santa Fe to confer with the
governor.
After several days he returned. He entered the _Kicker_ office to
greet Hollis, his face wreathed in smiles.
"You've got 'em all stirred up, my boy!" he declared, placing his hand
on Hollis's shoulder with a resounding "smack"; "they're goin' to
enforce the little law we've got and they've passed some new ones.
Here's a few! First and foremost, cattle stealing is to be considered
felony! Penalty, from one to twenty years! Next--free water! Being as
the rivers in this Territory ain't never been sold with what land the
government sharks has disposed of, any cattleman's got the right to
water wherever he wants to. The governor told me that if it's necessary
he'll send Uncle Sam's blue coats anywhere in the Territory to enforce
that! Third: after a man's registered his brand he can't change it
unless he applies to the district judge. Them that ain't registered
their brand ain't entitled to no protection. I reckon there's trouble
ahead for any man which monkeys with another man's brand!
"Say!" Allen eyed Hollis whimsically; "that new governor's all het up
over you! Had a copy of the _Kicker_ in front of him on his desk
when he was talkin' to me. Says you're a scrapper from the word go, an'
that he'd back you up long as there was a blue coat anywhere in the
Territory!"
Allen's speech was ungrammatical, but its message was one of good cheer
and Hollis's eyes brightened. The Law was coming at last! He could not
help but wonder what Dunlavey's feelings would be when he heard of it.
For himself, he felt as any man must feel who, laboring at a seemingly
impossible task, endless and thankless, sees in the distance the
possible, the end, and the plaudits of his friends.
Yes, he could see the end, but the end was not yet. He looked gravely at
Allen.
"Did you happen to hear when these laws become effective?" he inquired.
"On the first day of October!" returned Allen, triumphantly.
Hollis smiled. "And election day is the third of November," he said.
"That gives Dunlavey, Watkins and Company a month's grace--in case you
are elected sheriff."
Allen grinned. "They can't do a heap in a month," he said.
"No," returned Hollis, "but in most elections that have come under my
observation, I have noticed that the winning candidate does not assume
office for a considerable time after the election. What is the custom
out here?"
Allen grinned grimly. "Usually it's two weeks," he said, "but if I'm
elected it will be the next day--if I have to go down to the sheriff's
office and drag Bill Watkins out by the hair!"
"That belligerent spirit does you credit," dryly observed Hollis. "It
will afford me great pleasure to participate in the festivities. But
there is another matter to be thought of--which we seem to have
overlooked. Usually before an election there is a primary, or a
convention, is there not?"
"There is," grinned Allen. "It's to-night, and I'm ready for it!" His
grin expanded to a wide, whimsical smile. "I told you that I'd been
mixing a little politics with business," he said. "Well, I've done so."
He got up and approached the front window of the office, sweeping a hand
toward the street. "If you'll just get up and look out here," he said,
"you'll see that I ain't lying. There's some good in being an
ex-office-holder--you get experience enough to tell you how to run a
campaign." He bowed to Hollis. "Now, if you'll look close at that gang
which is mixing palaver in front of the Silver Dollar you'll mebbe
notice that Lemuel Train is in it, an' Truxton, of the Diamond Dot,
Holcomb, of the Star, Yeager, of the Three Diamond, Clark, of the Circle
Y, Henningson, of the Three Bar, Toban, of the T Down, an' some more
which has come in for the racket tonight. Countin' 'em all--the punchers
which have come in with the fellows I have named--there'll be about
seventy-five.
"An', say!" he added, suddenly confronting Hollis and grasping him by
the shoulder and shaking him playfully and admiringly, "there wouldn't a
durn one of them have come over here on my account. They up an' told me
so when I asked them. Said they'd nothin' ag'in me, but they wasn't
considerin' votin' at all. But since Hollis wanted me--well, they'd come
over just to show you that they appreciated what you'd done for them!"
Hollis smiled. He did not tell Allen that since the appearance of the
_Kicker_ containing the announcement that he was to be its
candidate he had written every small rancher in the vicinity, requesting
as a personal favor that they appear in Dry Bottom on the day of the
primary; that these letters had been delivered by Ace, and that when the
poet returned he had presented Hollis with a list containing the name of
every rancher who had promised to come, and that several days before
Hollis had known approximately how many votes Allen would receive at the
primary. He did not intend that Allen should know this--or that he had
been going quietly from one Dry Bottom merchant to another, appealing to
them for their support. And the earnestness with which many of them had
promised had convinced him that the primary was to be the beginning of
the end for Bill Watkins and Dunlavey.
When he had first come to Dry Bottom it had been universally conceded by
the town's citizens that his differences with Dunlavey and the
Cattlemen's Association were purely personal, and there had been a
disposition on the part of the citizens to let them fight it out between
themselves. But of late there had come a change in that sentiment. The
change had been gradual, beginning with the day when he had told the
author of the notice that had appeared on the door of the _Kicker_
office not to hold the express on his account. But the change had come
and it was evident that it was to be permanent. It had only been
necessary to arouse the government to the situation in order to secure
intervention. He had hoped to secure this intervention without being
forced to a hostile clash with the opposition, but his first meeting
with Dunlavey had spoiled that. Subsequent events had widened the
breach.
He was satisfied. Let Bill Watkins be defeated for sheriff and Dunlavey
was beaten. But there was much to be done before that desirable end
could be achieved.
Following the custom the primary was to be held in the sheriff's office.
Watkins had issued a proclamation some weeks before; it had appeared on
the door of the sheriff's office--a written notice, tacked to the
door--but it had been removed the same day. Obviously, it was the
sheriff's intention to conduct the primary as quietly as possible,
hoping no doubt to disarm whatever opposition might develop. But Hollis
had been apprised of the appearance of the proclamation and had quietly
proceeded to plant the seed of opposition to Watkins in the minds of his
friends.
He had been warned by Judge Graney that Watkins would try to "pack" the
sheriff's office with his friends on the night of the primary. This had
been the usual method employed by Dunlavey when opposition to Watkins
developed. Drunken, dissolute, dangerous men were usually on hand to
overawe the opposition; the Judge told of instances in which gunplay had
developed. But Hollis had determined that Watkins must be beaten.
Allen did not stay long in the _Kicker_ office. Nor, for that
matter, did Hollis. Once, during the morning, he went down to the court
house to talk with Judge Graney. Then he returned to the _Kicker_
office and worked until noon.
During the morning there had been a surprising influx of visitors.
Bronzed punchers on dusty, drooping ponies rode down the town's one
street, dropped from their saddles, and sought the saloons. Groups of
them swarmed the streets and the stores. As Hollis walked down to his
office after leaving the court house, he was kept busy nodding to
friends--many of whom had become such during the later days of the
drought. Merchants grinned at him from their doorways; Dunlavey's
friends sneered as he passed or sent ribald jokes after him.
At noon he went to the Alhambra for lunch. Almost the first person he
saw there was Dunlavey. The latter grinned at him mockingly.
"Friends of yours in town to-day," he said with a sneer. "Well, you'll
need them!"
His voice had been loud enough for all in the restaurant to hear. Hollis
did not answer, though he appreciated the significance of Dunlavey's
words; they told him that the Circle Cross manager was aware of the
contemplated contest and was ready for it.
During the afternoon Dry Bottom presented a decidedly different
appearance from the day when Hollis had first viewed it. Animation had
succeeded desolation. Perhaps a hundred cowponies were hitched to the
rails that paralleled the fronts of the saloons, the stores, and many of
the private dwellings. It was apparent that many of the visitors had
made the trip to town for the double purpose of voting and securing
supplies, for mixed with the ponies were numerous wagons of various
varieties, their owners loading them with boxes and crates. Men swarmed
the sidewalks; the saloons buzzed.
Toward dusk the volume of noise in the saloons drowned all sound
outside. Having made their purchases the ranchers who had driven in for
supplies and had loaded their wagons preparatory to departure found time
to join their friends and acquaintances over a convivial glass. By the
time the kerosene lamps were lighted in the saloons revelry reigned.
From one saloon issued the shrieking, discordant notes of a violin,
accompanied by the scuffling of feet; from another came laughter and the
clinking of glasses; from still another came harsh oaths and obscene
shouts. In the latter place rose the laughter of women.
Seated at his desk near the front window of the _Kicker_ office
Hollis gravely watched the scene--listened to the sounds. In another
chair sat Potter. There was no light in the office; neither man had
thought of a light. As the revelry in the saloons increased the printer
glanced furtively at his chief.
"There'll be hell to-night!" he said.
"I expect there will be trouble," agreed Hollis.
Potter shifted uneasily in his chair, eyeing his employer with a worried
expression. He was silent for a moment. Then he cleared his throat
nervously.
"Do you intend to go there--to the sheriff's office--to-night?" he
questioned.
Hollis looked quickly at him. "Of course!" he said with emphasis. "Why?"
he interrogated.
"Nothing," returned Potter; "only----" he hesitated and then blurted
out: "I wouldn't go if I were you. They've been saying that if you do
there'll be trouble. You know what that means."
"Who has been saying that?" inquired Hollis.
"I heard it at noon--in the Silver Dollar. Some of Dunlavey's men sat
near me and I heard them saying that Watkins was to win if they had to
put two or three of his chief opponents out of business."
"I have been expecting that," returned Hollis. He said nothing more and
Potter, having done his duty, felt that he had no business to interfere
further.
Shortly after dark there was a clatter of hoofs outside the
_Kicker_ office and four men dismounted from their ponies and
strode to the office door. They were Norton, Ace, Lanky, and Bud.
Evidently Hollis had been awaiting their coming, for he met them at the
door, greeting them with the words: "We'll be going at once; it's about
time."
Followed by Potter the five strode rapidly down the street. When they
arrived at the sheriff's office there were a number of men congregated
about the door. Inside a kerosene lamp flickered on a table that sat in
the center of the room. Another lamp stood on Watkins's desk, and beside
the desk sat Watkins himself.
Conversation died away as Hollis and his men approached the door and
stood in the stream of light from the interior. A man stepped out of the
shadow of the building and approached Hollis, drawing him and Norton
aside. It was Allen. The latter had lost some of the sprightliness that
had marked his manner during his conversation with Hollis in the
_Kicker_ office that morning--he was again the cool, deliberate,
steady-eyed man he had been that day in Judge Graney's office when
Hollis had met him the first time.
"I've been waitin' for you," he said; "we're goin' to have a scrumptuous
time. Dunlavey's planning to pack her." He swept a hand toward the
interior of the office. "But each candidate is to be allowed two
witnesses. I've selected you two. Dunlavey and Greasy are doing the
honors for Watkins. We might just as well go inside; we can't do
anything out here. There won't be anything done by any of this gang
until Dunlavey says the word."
He turned and stepped into the sheriff's office, Hollis and Norton
following.
Watkins looked up and surveyed them with a bland smile as they entered
and dropped quietly into the several chairs that had been provided.
"I reckon she's goin' to be some hot tonight?" significantly remarked
Watkins, addressing himself to Allen.
"Maybe," grinned Allen.
"We're goin' to take a hand in handlin' the Law," significantly remarked
Norton.
Watkins's face reddened. He stared offensively at Hollis.
"I reckon you're a witness, too," he said, sneering. "Well," he went on
as Hollis gravely nodded, "the law says that a witness to the count must
be a resident of the county. An' I reckon you ain't. You ain't been----"
"He stays," interrupted Allen, shortly. "That's settled."
Watkins's face bloated with a sudden anger, but he wheeled without
replying and gave his attention to some papers lying on the desk in
front of him.
For a long time the four sat in silence. Outside arose voices of
men--growing in volume. There was a jam around the door; looking out
Hollis could see the bronzed, grim faces of the punchers as they crowded
close, moved by a spirit of curiosity. Hollis could hear exclamations of
impatience, though the majority of the men outside stood in silence,
waiting.
Plainly, nothing was to be done until the arrival of Dunlavey. And
presently he came.
He had not been drinking; he was undeniably sober and self-possessed. As
he entered the door of the office there was a sudden surge on the part
of the crowd--several of the men tried to force their way in behind
Dunlavey. But he halted on the threshold, scowling back at them and
uttering the one word: "Wait!" The crowd fell back at the command and
watched.
Dunlavey stepped across the room, standing beside Watkins, his rapid
glance noting the presence of the three members of the opposition. He
ignored Hollis and Norton, speaking to Allen.
"So you're sure enough going to run?" he said.
"Sure," returned Allen. He rose slowly, stepped deliberately across the
room, closed the door, and stood with his back to it.
"We're all here now," he said quietly, "and I want to talk a little.
There ain't no one going to hear what I've got to say but them I'm going
to say it to. I reckon that goes?" He turned to Dunlavey.
Dunlavey had shown some evidence of surprise over Allen's action in
closing the door, but this immediately gave way to a sneer of mockery.
"I reckon you've forgot Greasy," he said.
"Why, I sure have!" returned Allen evenly. He opened the door a trifle
and called: "Greasy!"
Evidently Greasy had been waiting at the door, for he immediately came
in, slouching across the floor and standing beside Watkins and Dunlavey.
Allen closed the door and adjusted the fastenings carefully. Then he
turned again to Dunlavey.
"Now we'll proceed to do the talking," he said. He walked over to the
chair that he had previously vacated, dropping carelessly into it and
leaning comfortably back. His movements had been those of a man
unquestionably sure of peace. The expression of his eyes, the tones of
his voice, his deliberation hinted at a desire for a peaceful
compromise.
But once seated in his chair a startling change came over him. There was
a rapid movement at his sides, a mere flash of light, and two heavy
six-shooters appeared suddenly in his hands and lay there, unaimed, but
forbiddingly ready. He sat erect, his eyes chilled and glittering,
alert, filled with menace.
"Now," he said sharply, "the first man who peeps above a whisper gets
his so plenty that he won't care a damn who's nominated for sheriff!" He
spoke to Norton and Hollis without turning his head. "You two get
whatever guns them gentlemen happen to have on them, standing to one
side so's I can see to perforate anyone who ain't agreeable to handing
them over."
Norton rose and approached Dunlavey, while Hollis stepped forward to the
sheriff and secured the weapon that reposed in a holster at his right
hip. He did likewise with Greasy. While Norton was relieving Dunlavey of
his weapon the sheriff opened his lips to speak, his gaze fixed
doubtfully on one of Allen's sixes.
"The law----" he began. But Allen interrupted with a grin.
"Sure," he said, "the law didn't figure on this. But I reckon you heard
Big Bill say once that the law could be handled. I'm handling it now.
But I reckon that lets you out--you ain't in on this and the mourners'll
be after you to-morrow if you open your trap again!"
The sheriff swelled with rage, but he closed his lips tightly. When
Hollis and Norton had completed their search for weapons and had laid
the result of their search on the table near Allen they sought their
chairs.
Dunlavey had said nothing. He stood beside Watkins's desk, still
self-possessed, the mocking smile still on his face, though into his
eyes had come a doubting, worried expression. Plainly he had not
anticipated such drastic action from Allen.
The latter laughed grimly, quietly. "Sort of unexpected, wasn't it,
Bill?" he said, addressing Dunlavey. "It ain't just the sort of politics
that you've been used to. But I'm kind of used to it myself. Had to pull
the same game off over in Colfax County when I was runnin' for sheriff
the first time. It worked, too, because the folks that was mixed up in
it knowed I wasn't ringing in any bluff." He looked at Dunlavey with a
level, steady gaze, his eyes gleaming coldly. "If you think I'm bluffing
now, chirp for some one of your pluguglies to bust into this game. I'd
sort of like to let off my campaign guns into your dirty gizzard!"
Hollis had been watching Dunlavey closely. There was no fear in the
man's eyes; even the doubt and worry that had been there had disappeared
and his expression was now mildly ironical, contrasting oddly with the
demeanor of Watkins--who was plainly frightened--and that of Greasy--who
smirked and showed his teeth like some beast at bay and in fear of
death. It was evident that Dunlavey possessed the spirit of the fighter,
that indomitable courage which enables a man to face any situation and
still retain his presence of mind, which permits him to face death
unafraid and unyielding. In spite of the enmity that had existed between
them from the beginning, Hollis had always respected Dunlavey for these
very qualities, and within the last few minutes that respect had grown.
Dunlavey's eyes gleamed as he looked at Allen. "I don't think you would
try to work any bluff on me, Allen," he said quietly. "You've took me by
surprise, that's a fact. But let's get down to business. What's your
game?"
"I reckon that's a sensible way to look at it," returned Allen evenly.
"That's the way I expected you'd look at it when you begun to realize
that I was holding some pretty good cards. There ain't nothing personal
in this; I'm out for a square deal and I'm going to get it. I want you
to understand that I'm running this game to-night and I'm running it
square. If I get enough votes I'm going to be the next sheriff. If I
don't get enough votes Bill Watkins'll be it. But the votes are going to
be real votes. I ain't figuring on letting your gang pack in here and
keep my friends from voting.
"I'm going to put your hat on this table. Then Norton will open the door
and let one man come in. That man will vote--for whoever he pleases.
Then Mr. Hollis will let him out the back door and Norton will let
another man in the front. There won't be any row. I'm telling you that
you and Bill Watkins and Greasy are going to set here and watch the
voting. I'm going to stand behind you with one of my guns tucked under
your fifth rib. If you, or Watkins, or Greasy let out a yawp that can be
construed as a signal for anyone to bust into the game, or if there's
anything started by your friends which ain't your doing, I'm going to
pump six chunks of lead into you so fast that they'll be playing tag
with one another going through. I reckon you get me. That ends the
palaver."
He arose, snatched Dunlavey's hat from his head, placed it on the table,
and walked behind Dunlavey, standing against the wall.
"Open the door!" he directed, looking at Norton.