Range Of Golden Hoofs Page 9

  “I…” Louder began angrily.

  “I’m not through,” Dan interrupted. “Naturally Mr O’Connor is going to defend himself. I told you that he was going to Albuquerque to hire a lawyer.”

  “I’ll not put out a damned cent for this,” Louder announced. “An’ I tell you it won’t be a lawsuit with me, O’Connor. You’re responsible for the whole thing, and if there’s trouble about it I’ll…”

  “You’ll do what?” Martin O’Connor, thrusting his bulk ahead, shoved his face forward until it almost touched Louder’s. “What’ll you do?”

  “I’ll…”

  “In a minute,” Dan interposed coolly, “you’ll both say something that you’ll regret later. If you’ll quit trying to fight each other and cool down a little you’ll find out that you both want the same things. You’re acting like a couple of fool kids.”

  Don Martin retreated a step and glared at Dan Shea. “A kid, am I?” he boomed. “I’ll have you know…”

  Dan’s quiet eyes met those of the angry man, and O’Connor lapsed into silence. Dan turned and looked at Jesse Louder.

  “You want title to your land,” he said calmly. “That’s all you want, isn’t it, Mr Louder?”

  “That’s what I want,” Louder rasped.

  “And you want him to have it, Don Martin. You want to do the fair thing. Isn’t that so?”

  “I’ve never cheated a man in my life,” Martin O’Connor rasped. “I sold the land in good faith. I’ll make the title good.”

  “Then what are you fighting about?” Dan asked calmly. “You both want the same thing. Why fight? Why not help each other?”

  As though the idea were totally new and strange to both of them Martin O’Connor and Jesse Louder stared at Dan Shea.

  “We’re going to Albuquerque,” Dan continued. “We’re going to hire a lawyer and clear this up. Don Martin’s told me about the whole thing. There’s nothing to worry about. This title has already been adjudicated. Don Martin had a right to sell it. This suit is just someone trying to stir up trouble. I tell you, Mr Louder, your title is good.”

  “You give me your word for that, Shea?” Louder demanded.

  “I’ll give you my word,” Dan answered.

  Louder pondered a moment. Then, lifting his eyes, he looked at Dan. “I’ll take your word,” he said bluntly. “I…I reckon I come over here half cocked, O’Connor. I was pretty well riled up.” The apology was awkward. Don Martin, after a moment’s pause, accepted the apology as awkwardly as it had been tendered.

  “You an’ me have had some trouble before,” he said. “I don’t know. Guess I’d of been riled too.”

  “Let’s sit down and talk this out,” Dan suggested.

  Louder paused and then, looking toward his men at the gate, nodded to them. One man squatted beside the gate and the other collected the bridle reins of all three horses and led them out of the opening. Dan Shea, preceding O’Connor and Louder to a bench, sat down. When on either side of him the two men had placed themselves he spoke.

  “Suppose you tell Mr Louder what you told me about this, Don Martin,” he suggested.

  O’Connor cleared his throat. “Well…” he began.

  When Martin O’Connor’s tale was done Louder nodded. “I see,” he said. “An’ now you’re goin’ to get a lawyer an’ clear this up, is that it?”

  “That’s it,” O’Connor rumbled.

  Louder turned to Dan Shea. “All right,” he said grudgingly. “I guess you had the right of it. But I’ll tell you both this: I’m not payin’ a cent for the lawyer or for the courts.”

  “Nobody asked you to,” O’Connor growled.

  Louder stood up. Still looking at Dan, he spoke further. “You’ll keep me posted?”

  “I’ll keep you posted,” Dan assured. “It’s about suppertime. You…”

  “I’ll go back to the ranch,” Louder interrupted. “I mind one time I asked you to eat with me.” He grinned suddenly.

  Dan returned the smile. “You’d be welcome,” he announced.

  Louder stood up. “Maybe I would,” he replied. “I’d better go home. Shea, you keep me posted, will you?”

  “I’ll keep you posted,” Dan promised again.

  Louder poised a moment, seemed about to say something more and then, forgoing the words, walked toward the gate. There his riders stood up and joined the cowman, and side by side they walked out of the gate and out of sight.

  When the cowmen were gone there was quiet in the patio. Then Martin O’Connor said: “Danny, in another minute I’d of hit him. He come blusterin’ an’ blowin’ in here an’…”

  “It wouldn’t have done any good, Don Martin,” Dan Shea interrupted. “What would you have done if you’d been in his place?”

  Martin O’Connor thought that over for some time. There was a sheepish expression on his face when he answered. “The same thing, I guess.”

  Preparations for the trip to Albuquerque filled the next few days. It was necessary before Martin O’Connor and Dan Shea left El Puerto del Sol that everything be put in shape, that orders be given and that equipment be made ready. Don Martin would not go by stage. He had a canvas-covered, four-wheeled rig in which he purposed to make the trip. Marillita must have an ama; food and clothing must be made ready; there were many things to do. It was three days following Louder’s visit to El Puerto del Sol before all was in readiness. On the morning of the fourth day, with Don Martin at the reins, with Marillita beside him and with a plump native woman on the back seat, the wagon rolled away from the hacienda. Dan Shea rode beside it.

  Just after noon on the first day of the journey the spring wagon rumbled across the toll bridge and on into Bendición. Here the trip was to be broken. Dan saw Don Martin and Marillita installed at the hotel. He ate his dinner in their company and then, while Martin O’Connor went upon his own business and while Marillita, accompanied by her chaperone, shopped from the meager supplies of Bendición’s merchants, Dan strolled down the street to Rand Fitzpatrick’s saloon.

  Fitzpatrick was not in. Dan stood talking with the bartender while he waited. Presently Fitzpatrick returned.

  He shook hands with Dan and led him to a table in the rear of the room. Seated there, their greetings and small talk done, Fitzpatrick asked a question.

  “I hear you’re goin’ to be married. That so?”

  “That’s so,” Dan agreed pleasantly. “In October. Fitz, will you stand up with me?”

  Fitzpatrick’s face showed his surprise. “Me?”

  “You. There’s no one I’d rather have.”

  A slow grin spread across Fitzpatrick’s face. “Think of that now,” he said. And then: “Of course I will, Dan.”

  “That’s settled then,” Dan Shea said. “I’ll let you know when, Fitz.”

  A silence fell between them while Fitzpatrick looked at his fingers, nervously tapping on the table top. “You had any more trouble?” he asked suddenly.

  “I’ve had none,” Dan answered. “But there’s a suit…”

  “I know about that,” Fitzpatrick interrupted.

  “We’re on the way to Albuquerque now,” Dan said. “We’ll hire a lawyer and clear the thing up. I wonder why the De la Luzes started it, Fitz. Have you heard anything?”

  For a moment Fitzpatrick did not answer, then, leaning a little further and keeping his voice lowered, he said: “It’s Delaney, Dan.”

  “Delaney?” Dan Shea was startled.

  Fitzpatrick nodded solemnly. “It’s him,” he repeated. “He’s got hold of Ramon an’ some more of the La Luz outfit. He’s representing them.”

  Dan frowned. “But…” he began.

  “You hear talk around town,” Fitzpatrick interposed hastily. “Nothin’ very definite, nothin’ very much, but you hear talk. They’re out to get O’Connor, Dan. They’re goin’ to get him if they can. Don Martin’s rode high. He’s done a lot of things. He’s a big man. They aim to get him. It ain’t just the La Luz outfit an’ Delaney; it’s a lot more
than that.”

  Dan Shea sat quiet, and Fitzpatrick leaned back. There was a bitter twist on Dan’s lips, a sardonic gleam in his blue eyes. They were out to get Martin O’Connor, not just the La Luz family, not just George Delaney, but the whole countryside. Dan knew how that worked. Let some man rise up, let some man gain power, let him achieve, and all the others of the pack would strive to pull him down. There might be men in Bendición and around the town who would not lift a hand to hurt O’Connor. Neither would they lift a hand to help him. Arrogance has no friends. Power has sycophants but no partisans. Wealth and achievement, position and place, have no sympathizers. There would be many who would delight to see Don Martin O’Connor dragged down. There would be few, if any, who would help to maintain him in his present status. That is human nature, and Dan Shea knew it.

  “I’m in this, Fitz,” he said gently. “You knew that, didn’t you?”

  Fitzpatrick’s shrug was eloquent. “Knowin’ you, I knew that you was in it.”

  A moment’s silence lay between the men, and then Dan spoke again. “Yes, I’m in it. All the way.”

  CHAPTER NINE:

  “IF YOU COME AGAIN I’LL KILL YOU!”

  In Albuquerque the morning after their arrival Dan Shea and Martin O’Connor sought out Bruno Gotleib. They found the swarthy little lawyer in his office, and after greetings and introductions had been exchanged they plunged immediately into their business. O’Connor told the story, rumbling out the words, giving vent to anger now and again as he spoke. Gotleib listened, and when the tale was done rested a moment in thought. When he looked up he spoke crisply.

  “I’ll handle the matter for you,” he decided. “We’ll prepare an answer and file it. We may have to send to Mexico City for the records. This will be an expensive business, Don Martin.”

  O’Connor nodded. Gotleib spoke again. “Do you want me to represent Mr Louder in this suit?”

  “Yes,” O’Connor answered. “But I’m payin’ for the whole thing.”

  “Now that you’ve brought up the matter”—Gotleib’s eyes met O’Connor squarely—“you’d better give me some money for a retaining fee and for expenses.”

  “How much?” O’Connor asked.

  Gotleib thought a moment. “A thousand dollars,” he said.

  “I’ll get it at the bank,” Don Martin announced. “Come with me, Dan.”

  All three men arose. “I’ve a little business at the bank,” Gotleib said. “I’ll go with you.”

  Taking their hats, the three left the office and walked down to the low brick building which housed the private banking firm of Stern and Harris with whom O’Connor did business. When they entered the bank Stern, the senior partner, came to them and conducted the trio into his private office. Before Don Martin could state his mission Stern began at once to talk.

  “We received the drafts for the wool, Mr O’Connor,” he announced. “They came in a week ago. I sent you a letter acknowledging their receipt.”

  “I got it,” Don Martin said. “I…”

  “I’ve some bad news for you,” Stern interposed gravely. “I was served with an attachment on your account yesterday.”

  “What?” Martin O’Connor half rose from his chair and then sank back once more.

  “Your account has been attached,” Stern repeated. “I’m sorry, Mr O’Connor.”

  Martin O’Connor looked blankly first at Nathan Stern and then at Dan and Gotleib. “But what’s that for?” he demanded.

  Stern shrugged. “I don’t know,” he answered. “All I know is that your account has been attached. We’re forbidden to release any of it.”

  Anger began to show on Martin O’Connor’s face. “You mean I can’t have any of my money?” he rasped.

  “The account has been attached,” Stern repeated nervously. “I’m sorry, but we can’t release any of the money until the attachment has been removed.”

  “Then I’ll borrow!” Martin O’Connor announced. “Make out a note for a thousand dollars, Stern. I’ll sign it, and you can give me the money.”

  Stern’s face twisted nervously. “I’m sorry…” he began.

  “You’ll not let me have it?” O’Connor glared at the banker. “Is that it? I’ve done my business with you for years, an’ you’ll not make me a loan?”

  “I’m sorry,” Stern said again. “I understand that you’re in legal difficulties, Mr O’Connor. The policy of the bank…”

  “To hell with your bank an’ your policy!” Don Martin roared. “Come, men. We’ll get out of this nest of cheats!”

  With Stern still expostulating, Martin O’Connor jerked on his hat and stamped his way to the door. Dan Shea and Bruno Gotleib, after an exchange of glances, followed him out.

  All the way to Gotleib’s office Don Martin stalked ahead in silent fury. It was not until they were in the quiet of Gotleib’s room that the dam broke. Then Don Martin, unrestrained, loosened his wrath. There was no stopping or staying him. He cursed the bank, its partners, its root and branch, vowing that never again would he do business with Stern and Harris; that he would ruin them; that he would never forgive this indignity. There was nothing to do with Don Martin but to let his wrath run its course. Dan Shea and Gotleib sat and listened.

  Dan Shea had shipped his wool with O’Connor. There would be no money from that source available. Yet money was needed and immediately. O’Connor cursed and raged, but Dan’s mind was not on what the older man was saying. Instead, in his mind, a plan began to take form. Presently Martin O’Connor ran down, stopped and, looking from one to the other of his companions, asked a question.

  “What are we goin’ to do?”

  “I’ll prepare an answer and file it,” Gotleib announced. “As far as I’m concerned, Don Martin, you needn’t give me any money. I’ll be glad to take care of the work and the fees. But…”

  “But Mr Gotleib will be at considerable expense,” Dan said easily. “It isn’t fair to ask him to put his own money in jeopardy.” His eyes were on the lawyer as he spoke, and he could see that Gotleib was relieved.

  “You’ve always got to consider,” Dan continued, “that we might lose the suit.”

  Martin O’Connor glared at Dan. “Lose the suit?” he thundered. “We’ll not lose it. I’ll take it to the highest court in the country! I’ll…”

  “And all that will cost money,” Dan interrupted. “I’ll tell you, Don Martin: I’ve some money left. We’ll use that.”

  “Your money?” Martin O’Connor stared at Dan. “But…”

  “It will do to start.” Dan was unbuttoning his shirt and fumbling with the buckle of his money belt. He drew out the belt, placed it on the table and unbuckled a pocket. “There isn’t much there,” he said, turning to Gotleib, “but, like I say, we can start with that. And Don Martin will have more. He’ll have all that you need.”

  “But my money’s in the bank an’ I can’t get it,” O’Connor rasped. “The money from the wool an’…”

  Dan grinned at O’Connor. “There’s plenty of sheep on El Puerto del Sol,” he said. “And there’s a market in Colorado. Don Martin will have enough money, Mr Gotleib.”

  Martin O’Connor sat down. Gotleib was smiling. “Apparently you haven’t much to worry about, Don Martin,” the lawyer said.

  “Not while I’ve got Dan to do my thinkin’ for me,” O’Connor agreed. “I’d of sold my lambs an’ wethers. I knew I could do that, but faith, I was so mad I’d forgot about it.” He laughed. “Stickin’ to your last, Danny,” he observed, turning once more to Dan Shea. “You came to me with the idea of trailin’ sheep to Colorado an’ I wouldn’t let you have ’em. I wanted you with me, an’ now you’ve caught me in a crack an’ you’ll trail the sheep after all. It’s a hardheaded, stubborn lad you are.”

  Dan Shea was smiling. “About five thousand head will do to start with,” he said. “Young ewes. I don’t think we need to worry about the money, Mr Gotleib.”

  Gotleib’s thin hands stacked papers. “I’ll go right
ahead and prepare an answer,” he announced. “I’ll send a man to Santa Fe to search the records and I’ll see what I can do about removing this attachment, though I’m afraid that won’t be much. Don Martin, will you and your daughter and Mr Shea dine with me tonight? I’d be very pleased.”

  Martin O’Connor nodded his shaggy head. “Aye,” he answered, “we’ll dine with you. An’ I tell you right now, Gotleib, I’m keepin’ Dan Shea in the family. He’s goin’ to marry Marillita.”

  There was some further talk with Bruno Gotleib before Dan and O’Connor were ready to leave the office. Martin O’Connor’s anger still smoldered, and once or twice it flared up, particularly when the attachment of his bank account was mentioned. When finally the details were settled and the plan of action outlined and the two men departed, they had covered the ground thoroughly and, too, they had definitely made an appointment to dine with Bruno Gotleib at his home that evening. Walking back to the hotel, Martin O’Connor was silent for most of the distance. Before they reached the hotel, however, he spoke.

  “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Dan,” he said. “You kept me from fightin’ Louder. I’d of done that, for the man rubs me the wrong way. You kept me from losin’ my head at the bank an’ in Gotleib’s office. It’s a mystery to me how I got along without you before you came.”

  Dan laughed. “It seems to me that you did all right,” he said. “You held El Puerto del Sol together and put the place on its feet before you ever heard of me.”

  O’Connor shook his head. “I’m gettin’ along in years,” he announced. “I know just one way to do things an’ that’s to fight an’ bull ’em through. You’re smart, Danny, but you’ll fight. I’ve seen you fight.”

  Dan did not answer. He was staring across the street. Delaney and Ramon de la Luz were walking together on the opposite side, their heads bent as they talked. Dan Shea stopped short and O’Connor took another step, and then he also stopped.

  “What is it, Dan?” he asked quickly.

  Delaney and Ramon had entered a building and were lost to sight. Dan controlled the anger that welled up in him, and yet his voice was thick as he answered: “George Delaney, damn him!”