“I work for Davin Grissin, Quinn,” Cannidy said, bristling. “If he has any problem he'll be the one to take it up with me, not some lackey who can't keep from getting his gun taken away from him.”
“You dirty cowpoke!” Quinn spun toward him, his gun hand poised and tense near the butt of his big holstered Colt. “Let me see
you
take my gun away from me!”
“Nothing would suit me better,” said Cannidy. He pitched his rifle to Longworth, who caught it and stood watching as the hard-bitten ranch foreman spread his feet shoulder-width apart, facing Quinn.
But before either man could make a move, Tillman Duvall called out from the edge of the clearing, “Both of you
bad men
stand down, before I have to backhand the two of yas.”
Both Quinn and Cannidy cut a glance toward Duvall as he stepped down from his saddle and led his horse forward into the clearing. As he walked he took off his black tight-fitting riding glove, pulling on it one finger at a time.
“This is none of your concern, Duvall,” said Quinn, still facing Cannidy intently.
“I know that,” said Tillman Duvall, “but I don't give a damn if it's any of my concern or not.” He gestured toward Grissin, who sat atop his horse looking down from the cliff line. Grissin reined his horse away from the cliff's edge and headed down the trail toward them. “The boss told me to ride down here and keep things in order among you bungling idiots. So I will, even if I have to kill you to get it done.” Duvall stopped walking and stared coldly at Quinn. “Now stand down or start grabbing. It offends me to have to talk to a fool like you.”
Quinn boiled in rage, but he knew Duvall would kill him. He eased his hand away from his gun and said, “We work for the same boss, Duvall. I'm not out to start trouble amongst us. Getting Mr. Grissin's money back is my only concern here.” He said sidelong to Black and Fellows, “You two heard me say it. I'm looking out for Mr. Grissin's best interest here, ain't I?”
“We heard you, Sheriff,” said Fellows.
“Dang right,” said Black.
“Well spoken,” Duvall replied to Quinn with a look of disdain. He turned toward Cannidy and said, “What about you, Cowboy? Are you going to stand down like I told you to?”
“My name's not Cowboy,” said Cannidy, not backing an inch. He nodded toward Quinn and said, “He's the only one who calls me that, and that's part of the reason I'm ready to take his head off at the shoulders.” He shifted his gaze back to Duvall. “My name is Chester Cannidy, nothing more, nothing less.”
A smile came to Duvall's face. “Duly noted, Chester Cannidy.” He paused, then said, “Mr. Grissin tells me you know these drovers pretty well.”
“I was their foreman what time they were at Long Pines,” said Cannidy. “Most times they were on the trail, pushing a herd. But yeah, I know them well enough, I expect.”
“Then what's the game here?” Duvall asked as Grissin rode up to the edge of the clearing and stopped.
“There's no game here, not as far as Mackenzie and his pals are concerned,” Cannidy said to Duvall.
Peyton Quinn cut in, saying, “He says those drovers had nothing to do with any of this.” He gestured toward the body in the dirt and the one inside the shack.
“Oh yeah?” said Duvall, looking at Cannidy. “Then who did?”
From the opposite edge of the clearing, the ranger called out in a firm voice, “Stanton âBuckshot' Parks is the one who did this.”
Duvall spun toward the sound of the voice, his hand going to the butt of his Colt. The other men followed suit, startled by the ranger and Maria having slipped up on them while they stood bickering among themselves. Davin Grissin shook his head and stepped his horse forward into the center of the clearing and took over, saying, “Well, well, if it's not Arizona Ranger Sam Burrack. To what do we owe such an honor?”
“I'm tracking Buckshot Parks,” said Sam. Twenty feet away at the edge of the clearing, Maria stood holding a sawed-off shotgun ready and braced against her hip. “I've got a feeling he's the one who robbed the stage carrying your money, Grissin.”
“My money?” Grissin tried to be evasive. “Ranger, as a part owner of the stage lines, I consider anybody's cargo on board as important as the next.”
“I'm sure you do,” Sam said skeptically. Then he asked pointedly, “Are you saying you personally had no money on that stage, in the hidden cargo compartment?”
“I didn't say that, Ranger,” Grissin replied tight-lipped, careful of what information he let out. “But as far as Stanton Parks goes, I can't say this looks like his type of handiwork either.” He gestured toward the body on the ground. “I've always known Buckshot Parks to be a robber and a rake. I've never known of him doing anything like this.”
“Ordinarily he wouldn't have,” said Sam, he and Maria stepping forward, their horses tagging along a few feet behind them. “But he's managed to get his hands on a sheriff's badge and it's eaten him up.”
Grissin considered it and nodded. “You mean all that legal power has gone to his head?” He gave a smug half grin and a slight chuckle. “Isn't that what happens to everybody who pins on a lawman's badge? They start getting above themselves?”
“It happens to some, not all,” Sam said, ignoring the insult. “In Parks' case, it only brings out the worst because the worst is all he's got. He's learning how many doors that badge will open for him. An open door for Parks just means he can get his hands on one more thing he can destroy.” Sam paused and looked up at Grissin. “Things will only get worse until somebody stops him.”
“Then lucky for all of us, we've got one of Arizona Territory's
finest lawmen
looking out for us, eh, Ranger Burrack?” Grissin said with a sarcastic edge. The men gave a dark, quiet chuckle.
Sam brushed it aside and said, “Here's the deal, Grissin. I want to be able to talk to those drovers and let them know they can give up the money without getting themselves shot or hanged.”
“If you're asking for my help, Ranger, you're wasting your time,” said Grissin, his tone turning harsh now that he saw the ranger had nothing to offer him. “I'm taking my money back from them, no ifs, ands or buts about it.” He lowered his voice and added, “I can't think of a better time for me to set an example. If I let these drovers ride away with my money, every half-assed owl-hoot this side of St. Louis will figure they can do the same.”
“But they didn't steal your money, they just ended up with it,” Sam said.
“It makes no difference,” said Grissin. “People go by what they see and hear. Word gets out that these drovers skinned me, I'll never live it down.”
“So you'll let innocent men pay for what Parks and his robber pals did to you?” Sam stared at him.
“Yeah, now you're getting the picture, Ranger,” said Grissin. “I didn't ask for your help and I don't want your help. You're warned as of now to stay out of my way.”
“This is a legal matter, Grissin,” said Sam. “I'm doing my job whether you like it or not.”
“Careful where you step, Burrack,” said Grissin. He nodded toward Clayton Longworth, Peyton Quinn and the other two men. “It appears everybody here has a reason to want to nail your hide to a board. I can't guarantee your safety.”
Sam looked at Longworth, then at Quinn, Fellows and Black. “You don't need to guarantee my safety, Grissin. But you do need to listen to what I can tell you about Buckshot Parksâ”
“I've got a good sheriff and two good deputies with me, Ranger,” said Grissin, cutting him off, “so we're a lawful posse, within the law and doing our civic duty.”
Sam and Maria stood staring as Grissin motioned for Duvall and the others to mount up.
“What about the two dead?” Cannidy asked, gesturing toward the shack.
“What about them?” Grissin asked stiffly.
“Are we going to bury them?” Cannidy asked.
“Naw, to hell with them, we're going to keep moving while the trail is fresh,” said Grissin.
“There's something you ought to know about Buckshot Parks,” Sam said, trying for the second time to tell him about Parks carrying the big rifle.
But Grissin turned his horse, looked down at Sam and said, “You want something to do, Ranger? Bury the dead before they stink up the countryside.”
The men chuckled under their breath. As Tillman Duvall turned his horse, he spit down on the ground in front of the ranger's boots. “Good day to you, Ranger Burrack,” he said in a mock tone. “Ma'am,” he said, touching his hat brim toward Maria.
The two watched as the men rode out of sight. Finally Sam said, “I'll go find a shovel, we'll get these folks buried proper.”
“You tried twice to tell him about the big rifle Parks is carrying, but he wouldn't listen,” said Maria. “It serves him right.”
“If they catch up to Parks they'll know about the rifle soon enough,” Sam said.
At the edge of the clearing the big cur had sat watching patiently. Now that the men were gone he loped forward and over to the barn door, where he sniffed and scratched until Sam walked over to him, opened the barn door and looked down at the dead dog lying on the dirt floor. “Don't worry, Sergeant Tom Haines, we're going to get him,” Sam said, reaching down and patting the big dog as it sniffed and whined over the shaggy dog's body.
The big dog looked up and barked, and looked back down at the bloody ground.
Chapter 19
Ten miles from the Taylor shack, Cannidy and Longworth rode a hundred yards ahead of the others. Finding the tracks of four horses leading down over the edge of a trail and through a hillside strewn with cedar and pine, Cannidy raised his rifle and waved it back and forth for the riders to see.
Looking at Cannidy, Longworth said, “I don't figure you for riding with the likes of Davin Grissin.”
“The likes of Davin Grissin?” Cannidy looked at him curiously. “That kind of talk could easily get you killed amongst this crowd.”
“Only if you told anybody I said it,” Longworth replied. He held Cannidy's gaze until the ranch foreman turned tracker shook his head and said, “You needn't worry. I won't be mentioning it to anybody. If I had this to do over I wouldn't have come along.”
“Why did you?” asked Longworth.
“I figured maybe I could keep Mackenzie and his pals from getting themselves killed,” said Cannidy. “Those boys got a bad deal from Grissin as it is.” He stopped and studied Longworth for a moment, then asked, “What about you? What are you doing here?”
“I needed work,” said Longworth. “Besides, the ranger shot me, didn't you hear? That was enough reason for Grissin to hire me.” He gave a cruel smile. “Any
enemy
of the law is a
friend
of Davin Grissin.”
“That's another thing,” said Cannidy. “I knew Grissin used to rob trains and banks, but now I'm thinking maybe he's still got a hand in that game.”
“You don't have to wonder,” said Longworth, “you can take my word for it, he
does.
Grissin has turned robbery into a trade craft. He buys inside information from payroll clerks and crooked conductors, so he'll know the best time and place to make a raid. He does the same thing with banks. He's so good at it, he never even gets questioned. Most times he's a hundred miles away when the robbery happens. But it's still his handiwork, you can bet on it.”
“You sure know an awful lot about it,” said Cannidy, eying him closely.
“I should,” said Longworth, “it was my job to know all about it.”
“It's not
still
your job, is it?” Cannidy asked quietly, as if to keep anyone from hearing him as the riders drew nearer.
Longworth didn't answer. Instead he turned his horse toward the approaching riders and said, “My
job
is to help you get us on the right trail, to catch up to these drovers.” He pushed his horse forward and looked back at Cannidy over his shoulder and added with a note of sarcasm, “The most important thing in the world is that we get Grissin's money back.”
When Grissin and Duvall rode up to Longworth and Cannidy, the rest of the men behind them, Grissin said to Cannidy, “You better have something good for me. I'm not riding all over hell looking for these men.”
“This is them all right,” said Cannidy. “I can show you.” He stooped down over a jumble of hoofprints.
Grissin gave Duvall a nod. “Check it out.”
Duvall stepped down from his saddle and stooped down beside Cannidy. “Okay,
Chester
,” he said, emphasizing Cannidy's name. “Show me what a good tracker you are.”
“Here's Mackenzie and two of the other drovers, so Thorpe hasn't joined up with them yet. But he will, I figure,” Cannidy said, “because these boys stick together.” He pointed to another hoofprint and drew a finger around it in the dirt. “I figure this belongs to Buckshot Parks' horse.”
“Oh, why's that?” Duvall asked.
“See how this one tops down over these others?” said Cannidy. This one came later, long after the dust had settled. He gave Duvall a level stare and said, “I figure Parks knows we're behind him too. He's not going to be happy, thinking we might get to the money before he does.”
“Yeah, you figure, huh?” Grissin said, listening from atop his horse. “You better hope all this
figuring
gets me to my money.” He nudged his horse forward and looked off across the rugged desolate land.
“You heard him,
Chester
.” Duvall grinned and stood and dusted his hands together.