Range War Along the Pecos, by John Theron Crow

Range War Along the Pecos

CHAPTER SIX

 
Morgan Tanner was sitting at his usual table at Ma Cunningham's cafe, eating a breakfast of fried eggs, bacon, toast and coffee. He usually came in at an earlier hour, but this morning, his appetite was slow arriving due to last night's unforeseen difficulty regarding the young Murdoch gunman, Jesse Logan.
Tanner was a tall man, around six feet two, with a build that turned women's heads wherever he went. He was wearing his usual black tailored business suit that was the latest fashion up north. He was clean shaven with a neatly trimmed and waxed mustache. His face was what most would describe as classically handsome. Yet, it seemed marred by an expression that appeared as though it was only barely restraining a deep anger inside, and the eyes gave one the impression of cruelty. In truth, he was always having to restrain a terrible temper that stemmed from a deep ingrained arrogance.
He viewed the vast majority of humanity as little more than bumbling inferiors to be manipulated. Unfortunately, these fools were always failing the tasks he assigned them. Last night's episode was no exception. "Surely, someone must have noticed what had become of Jesse Logan." he thought to himself.
The old mountain man was supposed to be good with that rifle. Apparently, he wasn't good enough! Maybe, someone was on to him, and was hiding Jesse Logan's body to be used as evidence of some sort. He seriously doubted the later though. It was his opinion that no one down in these parts had enough in the way of brains for such an idea to even occur to them. "No, he thought to himself, but Logan is however, still alive somewhere and remains a threat to my plans, however minor that threat may be."
It had been a seeming stroke of luck that he'd heard of Ransom and his animosity toward Logan, and it had taken little effort on Tanner's part to locate the old mountain man. He had hoped that after Jared Ransom had killed Logan, he could pay him off, and then turn around and pin the murder on him after sending him safely away. The death of Jesse Logan would almost certainly have a demoralizing effect upon many of the Murdoch hands.
He had set Ransom up in a house in the Mexican section of town and had given him instructions to stay clear of the saloon. His intention was for some of the Mexicans to see Ransom, so that they could later describe him. To top that off, he had gathered up some cowboys who he'd intended to pay to say that they had drank with Ransom and heard him boast about how he was going to kill Jesse Logan, on the very day on which he actually did it.
The cowboys were no problem. They were his hands anyway, and they would say only what he instructed them to. However, the Mexicans who had seen Ransom might very well mention the fact that they had, and if Logan was still alive, that could prove a slight problem. Nevertheless, he'd directed Wilson to have Ransom stay out at the line shack until further notice. It wasn't likely that anyone would find him up there. Even if they did, Tanner would deny that he had ever seen the man. If nothing happened in the next few days, he would simply have Ransom try it again. If he failed in that attempt as well, Tanner would see to it that the old man met up with a fatal accident. If Ransom were caught in the attempt, well, again, Tanner would merely deny that he had even seen the man or heard of him. After all, it was well known that Ransom had sworn to kill Logan, even though quite some time had passed. Besides, he had a few gunmen working for him who could no doubt beat Logan with a gun, and if worst came to worst, he would handle the task himself. He had no uncertainty in his own mind with regard to that, but did not want the reputation of a gunman, if he could avoid it.
The more he'd thought about it, the less upset he became. Finally, his appetite had returned. After all, he had accomplished his main goal at the time. That was to dispose of Dan Bolton, and if possible, a few of the BAR-O hands as well. If he judged Dan's Father Joe Bolton correctly, then the man would be on the verge of mental collapse at the loss of his only son and heir to his ranch. It should only be a matter of time before he crumbled completely and sold out.
Sheriff Orr was not yet entirely under Tanner's control, but soon would be. A bribe here and there, interspersed with just a few witnesses ought to work wonders. Anyhow, he had supplied Sheriff Orr with the evidence that Bolton had been rustling MT beef.
Sheriff Orr had not at first believed Tanner when he'd accused Bolton of rustling, and at that time was not at the point yet where he would arrest an innocent man at Tanner's bidding. Even though Tanner had given Orr all the proof that he needed, he had advised the sheriff just this morning, not to arrest Bolton-- at least, not until a few days after his son Dan's funeral. By that time, Tanner planned to have planted further evidence of Bolton's guilt or worse, if he still refused to give up the ranch..
By now, most of Bolton's remaining hands would be seriously considering leaving if they had not done so already. None were gunmen and would probably prefer to seek employment elsewhere rather than risk the possibility of an encounter with Tanner's gunmen as had occurred with their friends. And then there was the incriminating evidence he had shown Sheriff Orr. That too would intimidate the Bar-O hands even further. It had been incredibly easy.
Bolton had previously directed his men to remove a small part of his herd from a thicket close to the boundary between the MT and Bar-O spreads. This was a common chore as the cattle would often venture into the thicket away from the main herd making them difficult to round up. Bolton's foreman had only sent two men to chase the cattle out onto the open range again, figuring that although it was hard work, it would only take a couple of days at best.
Thus, when the two Bar-O cowboys were driving out the last of the cattle from the thicket, they came upon an MT hand ostensibly attempting to drive some of the strays they had gathered up in a holding pen, over toward the MT range. Naturally, the Bar-O cowboys gave pursuit.
There was a small hill separating the two ranges at this point and when the BAR-O hands had crested it, they came upon not a mere no-'count rustler, but one of Tanner's top gunmen, Jake Barlow. Barlow had simply accused THEM of trespassing, and had shot them out of their saddles. Barlow then, following Tanner's orders, had some men rustle the Bolton strays, and move them out of sight where they could be held until they could be sold to unscrupulous buyers who were not overly concerned as to their origins, and would not ask questions. They next drove a small gathering of MT beef and placed them in the holding pen that the Bar-O hands had constructed to hold the beef that they had driven out of the thicket. After that, they moved the dead cowboys' bodies along with their horses, about a half mile further inside the MT spread's boundary to where another small gathering of MT beeves was waiting. Tanner had then sent for Sheriff Orr.
Upon arriving, the sheriff was informed that Bolton's men had been rustling cattle and keeping them in a holding pen only about a mile on the Bar-O side of the boundary. Of course, Barlow had caught them red-handed with this bunch that they had already culled from the MT herd. The sheriff had then asked why the BAR-O hands had been shot instead of captured. Barlow informed him that he had been alone at the time, and guessed that the men figured two against one were good odds, so they had gone for their guns. Sheriff Orr had looked somewhat suspicious since everyone knew Barlow's reputation around these parts.
Jake Barlow, it was rumored, had killed well over twenty men in gunfights. Although he was physically unimposing, he was deadly fast with a six-shooter, and only a seasoned gunfighter would even think about going up against him, unless he had no other choice. It was rumored that he was even faster than Logan.
Barlow was the kind of man who seemed to have little, if any, conscience. He rarely ever raised his voice, or even showed anger or rage. Usually, he carried a look of unconcern about him and to some, seemed almost boyishly innocent and guileless. He rarely cursed, and was almost always exceedingly polite and well mannered. These characteristics had made him seem like the type who would just naturally, be easy to push around. Many men had tried to do just that, and all of them were buried shortly afterward. Barlow was well aware that his mannerisms produced this type of reaction and found it thoroughly amusing.
When the BAR-O hands had crested the ridge and found him casually waiting on the other side, he had said nonchalantly and somewhat apologetically, "You fellas are trespassing on Tanner's land. I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I'm gonna have to hang you."
One of them had replied heatedly, "The hell you are. We just chased you off from tryin' to rustle some BAR-O beef! If anyone oughta be hung mister, it is you!"
Barlow acted as if he had barely noticed the man's remark and had said almost as if musing to himself, "Well, it is quite a ways to the nearest tree, so I guess it might be better to just shoot them." This, he promptly had done, almost casually, before either of the men could get a gun out of its holster.
Sheriff Orr had reluctantly accepted Barlow's somewhat modified account of what had transpired, and then had proceeded to the holding pen by the thicket on Bolton's spread. Under the circumstances, he dared not do otherwise. He knew and feared Barlow, and just being around the mild-mannered gunman made his hands shake.
Nevertheless, he could not deny the evidence, and decided to take the bodies into town, and then ride out and arrest Bolton the next day, unless Bolton could give him some evidence to prove that he personally, had had nothing to do with the rustling.
Tanner had offered Orr the use of some of his men, should he decide that deputies might be needed in making the arrest. Orr had politely declined the offer, but it had seemed to Tanner, that he had given the offer at least, a brief consideration. It was possible (at that time), that Bolton might try to resist arrest, and that his men would attempt to shield him from it. Orr had decided to take that chance though, rather than to openly deputize any MT gunmen. Such a move might not be all that good for him politically, yet, anyhow. Nevertheless, Orr decided he would head back to Olsen's Falls first, get some rest, then ride out to the BAR-O the next day.
Tanner knew though, that Orr's attitude was changing, and that shortly, he would own him lock, stock and barrel. There would soon be no place for a neutral lawman around Olsen's Falls. Malcom Orr would have to choose between Tanner and Murdoch.. Tanner had already bought off the mayor, and was highly thought of by the army as well, since the army had little tolerance for rebel sympathizers such as Murdoch. "Yes, Tanner mused to himself, things weren't so bad after all."
Tanner was stirred out of his reverie by a tap on the shoulder from Charlene Lancer. "Oh, excuse me Miss Lancer. What was that?"
"I was only askin' if ya wanted any more coffee, Mr. Tanner." Charlene explained rather coolly.
"No thank you Miss Lancer, but I would like to take you on a buggy ride some time, and show you around my ranch."
Charlene forced a smile and said, "Thank you Mr. Tanner, but I'm pretty busy these days helping out Aunt Emily since she came down with malaria."
"Well, as soon as she gets better perhaps." Tanner replied with a knowing wink.
"Perhaps, Mr. Tanner." Charlene replied noncommittally as he paid the bill. With that, Morgan Tanner strolled out of Ma Cunningham's cafe, and into the sunlit morning.
Charlene breathed a sigh of relief. She instinctively disliked Morgan Tanner, and was not impressed with his high-bred, aristocratic charm, as were most of the local women. She knew that trouble was brewing between him and Angus Murdoch, and she knew that it was Tanner's men who had goaded Dan Bolton and part of his crew into a gunfight the night before.
Moose was her uncle by marriage, and was almost like a father to her. She both loved and admired her uncle, and as a result, she despised Morgan Tanner. The truth was however, that she would naturally dislike him anyway. Her father had been killed fighting for the Confederacy, and she had been brought up with a natural dislike for Yankees. Especially those carpetbaggers who came down to the South to make a fortune off of the defeated Southerners. Morgan Tanner, represented the North, and thus, he was the enemy, even though the war had been over for many years now.
It was rumored, that Tanner had fought bravely for his side though, and had even risen to the rank of colonel, before the war's end. However, he openly disdained the title, and would not allow himself to be addressed as such. That went over well with most folks in Olsen's Falls since to them, this indicated that the man was not a braggart, and had at least a modicum of humility.
Charlene knew though, that the only reason Tanner disdained the title was political, pure and simple. She had no doubt that when up north, he not only allowed himself to be addressed as such, but virtually demanded it. However, he well knew, that unless that title had been procured in the service of the Confederacy, that the citizens of Olsen's Falls would greatly resent it, and the bearer of it as well. It would be a constant reminder of their defeat at the hands of the hated Yankees. Morgan Tanner wanted them to think of him as one of "them." So although he was renowned as a fighter and strategist in the north, he never would even discuss the subject with the locals, casually dismissing it or highly praising the abilities and courage of some of the South's more famous strategists such as Forrest, Lee or Jackson. He knew how to play on the Southerner's sympathies and was easily able to ingratiate himself with most of them. Not Charlene Lancer, however.

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