The Greatest Westerns of Ernest Haycox. Ernest Haycox

in the utter stillness. His rounding body plunged aside with the lift and explosion of his gun. Charterhouse, never moving out of his tracks, worked with the smoothness of an automatic machine and hardly was conscious of his draw until the smash of his own revolver beat against him and his wrist kicked back with the weapon's recoil. Graney stiffened, all his chubby face beaded in big globes of sweat; a leer of pain stamped his lips, but there was again the roar of a shot, and as the echo of it rocketed away into the droning heat of Angels, Graney emitted a cracked, forlorn cry and dropped straight down. Charter-house heard him mutter, "Manners!" and that was all.

      The tendrils of gun smoke eddied into Charterhouse's nostrils. Swinging toward Manners he spoke in a dry, distant voice that seemed not his own. "Was you aiming to take my attention away from Graney when he was about to draw?"

      Manners stared at the dead man with an unusual soberness. "Don't be a damned fool, Charterhouse. I wanted you to put up your gun. I would have covered him myself while we talked the business over. He knew he was on the poor end of the bluff and I don't think he wanted to go through with it. Sorry for the fellow, but it was his own making."

      Charterhouse turned around. Seastrom and old John Nickum were standing shoulder to shoulder against the saloon wall. Haggerty was also against the wall but slightly removed from them. On the outer edge of the walk Studd and Wolfert were posted; so the opposing parties stood, saying nothing, watching for anything. At the far end of the street a man came suddenly around a building with a rifle half lifted and ducked back. Charterhouse challenged Wolfert.

      "Any inclination to serve that warrant on me, Sheriff?"

      "I'm trying to get along with you men," muttered Wolfert. "Don't make it hard for me. I ain't tried to serve no warrant, have I? Blamed if I don't think I'll turn in my star. Public official in this county just gets kicked from corner to corner. No thanks and plumb little pay."

      Old John Nickum shot a coldly triumphant glance at Wolfert and Studd. "Why don't you go through with it? What's stopping you?"

      "Through with what?" Studd wanted to know.

      "Don't fake with me," snorted Nickum. "You had a killing ribbed up. I'm too old not to understand the signs. You boys are pretty crude in your ways. What's all those men posted around for? Reckon I ain't seen 'em waiting to get a fair shot? Hell, Studd, you're clumsy. Graney was the only one with guts enough to go through with his play. None of you others had sand enough to back him up."

      "You still got me wrong," complained Studd and spread his broad paws outward.

      "Looks to me," broke in Manners, "as if I was going to have to station about twenty of my men in this town to keep it straight. If you can't keep order, Wolfert, you'd better resign. It's a poor day when Angels turns against Box M. I've tried to maintain a fair and open place with the whole county, but I will not stand by and see John Nickum injured. First thing you know, Box M will come into Angels and give it a clean-up."

      "Yellow dogs never fight in the open," boomed Nickum. "Come to the hotel, Buck, and let's transact our business."

      The two of them strolled over to Madame LeSeur's. Twenty minutes later they came out again. Nickum found his party waiting for him in the shade of the stable.

      "If the offer is still open," said Charterhouse, "I'll be glad to ride for Box M."

      Nickum surveyed Charterhouse with manifest approval. "You bet the offer is open. I know a fighter when I see one. Let's go."

      The four of them strung out of Angels leisurely. Haggerty was again paired off with the boss, sour face clamped around a chew of tobacco, never speaking and never looking aside. Seastrom chuckled and winked at Charter-house.

      "Brother, you looked hard when you fronted Mister Graney. What I mean is you looked hard."

      "Over and done with," said Charterhouse soberly.

      "Better get that out of your coco. The ball's just started. And it will be hell on greased wheels. Casabella goes crazy at the smell of a little blood."

      CHAPTER V

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      Speech came droning softly through the padded desert darkness as the rulers of Casabella met and planned on the open range. A horse blubbered and another chewed on its bit. Men in the saddle made a dim ring under faint crystals of starlight. A wind blew gently out of the lonely horizons.

      "We misplayed our hand twice and unless we make the right move next time, we'll pay for our fun. You boys hear me? I think Charterhouse was responsible for tipping off the ambush. Since the Mexican died on his belly without firing a shot, we won't ever know the truth of the matter, but my guess is Charterhouse knew all about it. I'm telling you fellows, Charterhouse is built to fight. I saw him make his draw, and it was as pretty as rye looked at since Slinger Hogan cashed in. He's got the same wrist break Hogan had and he didn't try to jump out of his skin like Graney. Graney was fast but he didn't have the guts to stand in his tracks and that's what killed him."

      "We'll get Charterhouse," said Studd's heavy voice.

      "You'd better. He's no fool pilgrim. He knew that fight was all rigged. And he'll step around like a cat. I don't fancy having that lean, long drink of water on my trail. He's soft talking but he's got hazel eyes. And I never met a hazel-eyed man yet that wasn't a blazing killer when he went on a rampage. I'm telling you, the cards have got to be played right from this time on. No more fooling. We made enough mistakes to hang."

      "Ain't my fault," growled Studd. "We'd of got Nickum this day if we'd been let alone. He's just as wise as Charterhouse. They both know plenty. And Nickum's got to fall before he spreads his information at large."

      "Talk, talk," broke in another. This was Wolfert, words breaking nervously. "All we do is talk about things we had ought to do or things we tried to do and boggled. I'm beginning to think we're sunk."

      "Oh, shut up. You've had the willies ever since Nickum's kid took your slug—"

      "Stop that! Want to advertise to the whole cursed county who got him?"

      "Studd."

      "Yeah, Shander?"

      "I want you to get hold of the influential Mexican men. That's easy for you, considering you've played their political game all these years. Tell them to pass on the word to all their friends and dependents to watch for Box M riders by day or night, and send word to you. Get the grapevine system working. Nickum plays this game as well as we do and it'd be like him to storm down and wipe somebody off the map. Tell the Mexicans to keep watch."

      "You bet Nickum plays the same kind of poker," put in Wolfert. "Ever stop to think that it's as easy for one of us to get ambushed as for them?"

      "This is war, Wolfert. If you're afraid, crawl out."

      "And get shot in the back for crawling?" said Wolfert bitterly. "I know where I stand."

      "Glad you do," muttered Studd. "I been wondering about that. But we ain't made any reasonable plans yet about Charterhouse and Nickum. I'm repeating—they got to go soon. You dally this thing along, Shander, and we'll be licked before we start."

      "Curly, I've got a job for you," Shander said, ignoring Studd's comment.

      A rather thin, uneven voice joined in. "Yeah, I been waiting for something to do. My outfit's awful tired of Dead Man Range."

      "Take three of your best shots and coolest heads, better pick old-timers in your bunch. Put one up in the timber by the Bowlus place. Another between Box M and Fort Carson. Have the third get as close to Box M on the north as he can possibly find concealment. And they are to stick it out until they get a bullet into either Nickum or Charterhouse. Meanwhile, I think we'll rig up a bigger bit of fun. Keep your men collected, Curly, and wait for a signal from me. If I locate a part of Nickum's men starting off to look for beef, I'll get word to you. The rest is your business. One way or another we'll whipsaw Nickum into proper shape to hit him. That's definite enough.