Flame Across the Land Page 5

  Seaton was about to turn off in the direction of his old camp by the stream when he changed his mind. How would his attackers have found the old man? Of course, they might have come across him by chance, but it didn’t seem likely. Another thing that puzzled him was the fact that the attack had taken place so soon after he had arrived in Lindenberg. It was as if his assailants had been waiting for him to arrive. There must have been something distinctive they were looking out for. Then the thought occurred to him; he had arrived in town leading the extra horse. That’s what they had been looking out for. They must have had the town under surveillance, and especially the livery stables. Once they had spotted him, it would have been an easy matter to arrange a bushwhacking. He was probably doubly lucky in that they had not made an attempt on his life the day before. He pondered over the matter for a little longer before coming to a definite decision; he would carry on as he had intended and make his way to the Lazy Ladder. It was a pity that he had had to leave the roan behind, but it was a minor matter, even though at some point he intended recovering the cost of stabling it.

  When he was sure that it was safe, Held emerged from the cover of the woods to find Marshal Braithwaite and a small group of townsmen gathered around his wounded colleague at the livery stable. The man had been shot in the arm but it wasn’t serious and the town doctor was already on his way. He looked at the people gathered around, searching for the ostler, but he wasn’t there and he felt pretty sure there was nothing to fear from that quarter. The ostler had seemed quite happy to receive the hefty bribe they had offered to get him out of the way and wasn’t likely to put himself in the way of trouble by admitting to anything. He wasn’t sure what the attitude of the marshal would be, but it was quickly apparent that he had nothing to worry about there either. Once the marshal realized the two of them were from the Mill Iron, he was immediately sympathetic.

  ‘Looks like you boys were the victim of a premeditated attack,’ he said.

  ‘Sure seems that way. We were just passin’ by when we thought we saw someone movin’ about. We figured it might be horse thieves so we stopped to look inside. The next thing we knew somebody started shootin’ at us.’ Held turned to his companion. ‘Ain’t that so, Thurston?’

  The other man looked up with his face contorted by pain and nodded. ‘Sure, that’s the way it was.’

  The marshal looked round at the other people. ‘OK, folks,’ he said. ‘Looks like we got ourselves a clear case of attempted horse theft. Guess it was lucky these folks happened by when they did. The show’s over. Better get back about your business.’

  They hesitated for a moment but the arrival of the doctor at that point seemed to spur them to action and they began to move away.

  ‘While the doc’s busy here, I figure I’ll just take a little look around,’ the marshal said, in an attempt to look as though he was dealing with the matter. At his words a sudden thought struck Held.

  ‘I’ll give you a hand,’ he said.

  If he drew the marshal’s attention to the horse bearing the Lazy Ladder brand, he might be able to make good the omission of clues linking the attack on the old man with the Lazy Ladder. The problem was how to link the presence of the horse with the attack on the old man. Had Brandon spoken with the marshal? He wished Brandon would keep him better informed. He couldn’t see how to make the connection but at least he could point out the markings on the roan in case the marshal missed it. He was unclear as to how it might help, but maybe it would prove useful later. Making his way to the horses, he quickly found the one with the Lazy Ladder brand, the one the Mill Iron had stolen in the first place.

  ‘Marshal!’ he called. ‘Over here!’

  The marshal strolled across. ‘What is it?’ he said.

  ‘Probably nothin’,’ Held replied. ‘But take a look at this.’ He drew attention to the markings and the marshal bent closer to investigate.

  ‘A Lazy Ladder brand,’ he said. ‘So what?’

  Held shrugged, attempting to look disinterested. ‘I don’t know,’ he replied. ‘What’s a horse belongin’ to the Lazy Ladder doin’ here? They wouldn’t have cause to put one of their horses up at the livery stables.’

  ‘Maybe it’s bein’ shod,’ the marshal replied.

  ‘Maybe. But they got their own facilities for that kind of thing.’

  The marshal looked the horse over. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘I’ll keep it in mind.’

  Held had made his point and there was nothing to be gained by pursuing it further. He turned away and rejoined his comrade. The doctor had just finished removing a fragment of bullet from his forearm and bandaging up the wound.

  ‘What do we owe you, Doc?’ Held asked.

  The doctor looked him up and down. ‘That was a ricochet,’ he said. ‘Next time neither of you might be so lucky.’

  Held was anxious to be away before the ostler showed up or any other awkward questions might be raised. ‘Is he OK to ride?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, but take it easy. That arm’s gonna be hurtin’ for a while.’

  The marshal rejoined them and Held turned to him. ‘OK if we go now?’ he asked.

  The marshal nodded. ‘I know where to find you if I need you,’ he said.

  Held and his companion walked away into the sunlight. Their own horses were being held in the corral at the back of the stables, but Held reckoned it might be politic to return to collect them later. He could have a quick word with the ostler before they finally headed for the Mill Iron.

  Nash Brandon came away from the latest meeting with his lawyer without having got any further with his attempt to acquire the Lazy Ladder; Mitch Montgomery still wasn’t prepared to accept his latest offer. It came as no surprise to Brandon and it didn’t worry him. In the days following he had other meetings both with the lawyer concerning property deals he was involved with, as well as with one or two prominent people concerning the forthcoming mayoral elections. After Held arrived back at the Mill Iron with the information that the old sheepherder had been dealt with, he was ready to put the final phase of his plan into effect. Once Montgomery was accused of the murder of the old man, he would be more than prepared to sell the Lazy Ladder for a fraction of its real value – especially if Brandon were to offer the services of his lawyer in Montgomery’s defence. Brimming with confidence, he strutted down the main street of Lindenberg feeling generally satisfied with the way things were going.

  His first appointment at the bank was quickly dealt with, and he was about to direct his footsteps to the marshal’s office when he was just in time to see Maisie Montgomery enter the Broadway Coffee Shop. The sight of her caused him to change his mind and he began to make his way to there. He strode briskly and entered the establishment only moments after her, but he was disappointed to see that she was not alone but was sitting opposite another woman whom she had obviously arranged to meet. He felt a pinch of disappointment and annoyance and would have gone back out again except for fearing some loss of face. Instead, he made his way to another table at the back of the room, bowing slightly and raising his hat as he passed them both. The waitress came over and took their order before approaching him.

  ‘Coffee,’ he said curtly.

  His eyes briefly followed her as she walked away before he fell to surreptitiously observing Maisie and her companion. Though the charms of the other woman were undeniable, the comparison worked all in Maisie’s favour and only served to quicken his desire for her. They were talking quite animatedly, but though he strained his ears to try and catch something of what they were saying he could only pick out odd disconnected words and phrases. When she mentioned the name of her father his interest was even further aroused and he leaned forward across the table. From what he could make out, it seemed she was saying something about Montgomery not being his usual self of late. The name of Mowbray, the town doctor, was mentioned. He had to piece together what she was saying and maybe he was getting it all wrong, but it seemed that Mitch Montgomery was feeling the pressure. He wonder
ed just how much Maisie knew. Was she aware that he had made an offer for the Lazy Ladder? Somehow he had a feeling that the situation might offer scope for putting pressure on Maisie Montgomery to accede to his advances. It was certainly something worth thinking about. The conversation between Maisie and her companion seeming to have moved on to other things, he got to his feet and made his way to the counter, courteously lifting his hat once again as he passed their table. When he had left the coffee shop, he paused for just a moment to take a look up and down Front Street before turning on his heels and making his way to the marshal’s office.

  Braithwaite was looking out of the window when he saw Brandon’s advancing figure. Immediately he did so he moved quickly to his desk, capped the bottle of whiskey which stood there and put it in a drawer along with the tumbler from which he had been drinking. He replaced them with some papers and had just started to riffle through them when the door opened and the rancher entered.

  ‘Mr Brandon,’ he said. ‘It’s sure good to see you.’

  Without replying, Brandon took a chair and produced a large cigar from an inside pocket, which he proceeded to cut and trim before lighting it and placing it in his mouth. He drew in a mouthful of smoke and then turned to the lawman.

  ‘I won’t beat about the bush,’ he said. ‘I have reason to believe that a serious crime has been committed and I want you to go and investigate.’

  ‘Why of course, Mr Brandon. May I ask what kind of offence?’

  ‘My suspicions are that it may be murder: cold-blooded murder. Not only that, but the murder of a poor defenceless old man.’

  The marshal was taken aback and his features showed his state of confusion.

  ‘As you know, there have been moves afoot of late to introduce sheep into the area,’ Brandon continued. ‘It’s common knowledge that the Sheepmen’s Association took on someone to look after a flock up in the hills. I fear for that man’s safety.’

  ‘Why? I mean, what reason. . . .’

  ‘I have my ear to the ground. In my position it pays to know what is going on. I can’t say more than that, much less begin to think of pointing the finger of blame. As a good citizen, I simply bring the matter before you.’ Brandon inhaled deeply and then rose to his feet.

  ‘I must be off,’ he said. ‘I have every confidence that you will handle this matter in the appropriate way. In fact, I could let you have one of my men. I’m sure I could spare somebody who knows his way about those hills.’ He strode to the door and paused before turning the handle.

  ‘You have made a good job of being marshal,’ he said. ‘If I am fortunate enough to be voted mayor, I shall certainly bear that in mind.’

  He turned and went out. The marshal sat back in his chair and after a few moments got out the bottle of whiskey and refreshed his glass. He swallowed it down and then poured another, thinking as he did so about what Brandon had said. He wasn’t entirely sure how to take it, but he knew enough to realize where his best interests lay.

  Marshal Braithwaite could put two and two together and get them to make four. It was obvious that Brandon wished to incriminate someone, and he had given a broad hint that it was to be one of the ranchers. He knew that Brandon had his eyes on the Lazy Ladder, and then coincidentally the Lazy Ladder was implicated in the shootout at the livery stable. It was a fair guess that if he rode up into the hills he would find the body of the old man together with something that could be used as evidence against the Lazy Ladder. To have to do so was a nuisance, but he could see no way of avoiding it. It might seem a circuitous route for Brandon to achieve his ends, but that was how he went about things. Brandon wasn’t given to plain speaking. He was a man on the up and it was important to him not to give anything away which might later be held against him. He had political ambitions; that was enough to enjoin caution. So it was with an ill humour that he awaited the arrival of Brandon’s man, and when he duly turned up, rode out of Lindenberg on his spurious quest. He knew what role he had to play and what the outcome would be. He realized the pointlessness of the whole exercise, but he needed to act out the part that Brandon had assigned him.

  It didn’t take Marshal Braithwaite long to locate Utah Red’s old camp. After all, he had Brandon’s man to help him, and that particular individual made small effort to conceal the fact that he knew perfectly well where it was. It was when they got there that things seemed to go somewhat awry, because neither of them could find the old man’s body nor evidence pointing to anyone’s involvement in some kind of nefarious activity. All they had to go on were some stray corpses of sheep and it would have been difficult to tell from their condition that they had even been shot. It was plain to the marshal that his companion was completely nonplussed by the turn of events. He had clearly been expecting to find evidence that could be used to incriminate somebody who might get in Brandon’s way and the marshal had a shrewd idea that it was Mitch Montgomery and the Lazy Ladder. He’d had enough anyway of the whole charade.

  ‘It’s pretty clear to me,’ he said, ‘that somethin’ ain’t right.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ the man from the Mill Iron replied.

  ‘Isn’t it obvious? Those sheep. Somethin’ killed ’em. So what happened to whoever was lookin’ after ’em? And where’s the rest of the flock?’

  ‘Yeah, of course.’

  ‘And what’s more,’ Braithwaite continued, ‘I got my suspicions about who’s responsible.’

  ‘Oh yeah?’ the man replied dubiously.

  ‘I can’t say anythin’ more, but let’s just say I intend payin’ a visit to the Lazy Ladder.’

  It was a calculated shot and the response it evoked convinced the marshal that he was right about the Lazy Ladder being Brandon’s intended target. His companion’s attitude of puzzlement and despondency immediately changed to one of eagerness.

  ‘I bet you’re right,’ he said.

  ‘If we had more men and more time I figure we’d turn up some evidence, but it doesn’t make any difference. I intend gettin’ to the bottom of this and if the Lazy Ladder is responsible for any wrongdoing, I’ll see to it that they pay.’

  ‘You’re the one to bring ’em to justice.’

  ‘OK,’ Braithwaite said, ‘I reckon we’ve done all we can up here. Let’s get back now so I can carry on my investigations and you can report back to Mr Brandon.’

  The man from the Mill Iron showed some reluctance to leave without having anything more concrete to show for his trip, but the marshal’s words did their trick. After a final glance over Utah’s old camp, they climbed into leather and began the ride back to Lindenberg.

  As Seaton rode towards the Lazy Ladder, he tried to put everything from his mind apart from what he intended to say to Mitch Montgomery. If Montgomery was the sort of person who would attack an old man, what kind of a hearing could he expect? As he got closer, he paid greater attention to his surroundings, half expecting to be met by an unwelcome reception committee comprised of Montgomery’s most hardened cowpokes. As he looked about for any signs of potential hostility, he thought about his meeting with Maisie Montgomery and couldn’t help noticing the irony of the fact that the roughnecks who had burst into town on that occasion, threatening life and limb with their casual shooting, were cowboys from the Mill Iron, not the Lazy Ladder.

  He knew he was on the Lazy Ladder range when he began to see cattle. They were scattered about, grazing, and they looked in prime condition. He brought the chestnut to a halt in order to appreciate the scene. There was an atmosphere of peace about it, which did not chime in either with notions of the Lazy Ladder being responsible for violence directed towards the oldster and his sheep or Seaton’s own tangle of emotions. The place seemed to be aptly named. He rode on and presently came in view of the ranch-house. It was a compact, two-storey building with a raised veranda, at the back of which were several smaller buildings and a couple of corrals. On one side stood a grove of trees and on the other a small garden had been laid out. It looked neat and homely. What caug
ht Seaton’s attention in particular was a buggy standing in a corner of the yard which he recognized as the one Maisie Montgomery had been driving on the day of their encounter. Did it signify she was at home? He felt a slight quiver of anticipation as he moved forward and rode into the yard of packed earth, where he dismounted and tied his horse to the hitching rail. At close quarters the ranch-house looked even more snug and inviting. There were gathered curtains at the windows, with ornaments and vases of flowers on the window ledges and window boxes and pots with plants in them outside. Seaton fancied he saw the hand of Maisie Montgomery in all this and, thinking of her, it was with some trepidation that he stepped up on to the veranda and knocked on the ranch-house door.

  He wasn’t prepared when, after a few moments, the door was opened by Miss Maisie herself. He was taken aback and thrown into a state of confusion, but if Miss Maisie was at all disconcerted, she did not show it.

  ‘Why,’ she said, ‘this is an unexpected surprise. It’s Mr Seaton, isn’t it? Won’t you come on in?’

  He entered the room, removing his Stetson, and stood a little awkwardly.

  ‘Won’t you take a seat?’ she said, indicating a stiff-backed chair. He sat down and she sat opposite him.

  ‘How are you finding things in Lindenberg?’ she asked. ‘I am assuming you are fairly new to the area.’

  ‘It’s a nice town,’ he replied.

  ‘It is most of the time,’ she responded. There was a moment’s silence before she continued, ‘You must excuse me. I’m not being a very good hostess. Can I get you some refreshment? Coffee perhaps?’

  Seaton, sitting upright with his hat on his knees, realized that some explanation of his presence was required.

  ‘Miss Montgomery,’ he began. ‘It’s me who should be askin’ to be excused. I wouldn’t have intruded on you like this but… the thing is, I need to have a word with your father.’