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and possessed a fierce, almost feudal loyalty for those with whom they rode.
And Bert Garry had been the youngest of the lot, and a favorite.
"There'll be trouble if he doesn't pull through. Two years ago rustlers
killed a rider of mine. We trailed them down. Bert and I, we circled around a
hill to cut off anybody who escaped. Before we could get up the boys had
killed all four rustlers and set fire to the place."
"I've tried to tell Jud. So have others." Where they stood there was deep
shadow. Out over the desert a coyote spoke to the moon, his shrill voice
yapping sounds that trailed away and died. He stood silent, wanting to speak
of other things, yet uncertain of how to begin.
"He's different these days," she said finally. "Not like himself."
"Jud's a front runner, Colleen. He's used power and money to win, and he is
used to winning. I think he has always had an advantage before."
"I'm afraid of what he may do if he begins to think he'll lose."
"He will lose."
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They were silent again, and almost automatically they began to walk on toward
McClean's together.
"And then what will you do?" he asked suddenly. "If he loses, I mean?"
"I don't know. Father may go back East. But he likes it here, and this was a
temporary appointment." She looked around at him. "Jud engineered it. I
suppose you know?"
"I figured so."
"Clay did you know about Morton Schwabe?"
"What about him?"
She explained quickly, and saw his face stiffen with surprise, then grow
grave. "The man's a brute. Not fit for any commission. And he's an enemy of
mine."
She told him about the injunction and Devitt's plan that Schwabe was to serve
it. He held himself still, considering all it might mean. Here again was
evidence of a guiding hand that must be that of Noble Wheeler. By himself, it
was doubtful if Devitt would have arrived at the choice of Schwabe for
marshal. That had to be suggested to him by someone who knew of the rancher's
enmity for Bell.
Also, it gave an indication of the lengths to which Devitt was prepared to
go. Schwabe was a troublemaker, and with the authority of the law behind him
he could be a dangerous man. Kesterson had several times informed Bell of
Schwabe's continued purchase of ammunition, that could only mean constant
practice with a gun.
Devitt might yet come to the hiring of killers. It had not yet been done, but
without doubt this latest choice meant that, although he had not hired a
killer, he was not above trying to arrange a killing. Such papers could have
been served peaceably by a dozen men, but never by Schwabe. It was a
deliberate effort either to have Bell killed or to put him in the position of
resisting the Federal law.
"If that injunction is served," he said slowly, "I'll have to honor it. I
won't buck the government." An idea came to him suddenly. "There's a way of
beating this yet."
He hesitated, thinking. "If Devitt is allowed to use that road, he'll start
cutting timber as soon as he's on the land. Colleen, how strong is Devitt with
your father?"
"He's lost ground, Clay. Dad did think Jud could do no wrong until he heard
that Devitt had ordered Duval and Simmons to attack Garry."
"What?" Clay caught her arm. "Devitt ordered that attack?"
She looked up, frightened by his expression. "Didn't you know? He wanted to
make you short-handed. Bob Tripp didn't like it too well, but he passed on the
order. They were overheard, and Jud admitted it to me."
Clay Bell dropped his grip from her arm. "Colleen, if Bert Garry dies I'll
kill Jud Devitt."
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"No no, Clay! That will only make matters worse."
They had reached the door of the McClean home. A light burned in the office;
another, a dim light, in Garry's room.
A thought came to Clay. It was an idea that had come to him a few minutes
before, but had been lost when he heard that Devitt had ordered the attack on
Garry. He turned the idea over in his mind now.
"Is your father at the hotel?"
"Yes, but be careful. The saloon is filled with lumberjacks."
He watched her go into the house, then turned abruptly and went back down the
street. As he walked, his eyes and ears alert for trouble, he thought of what
he planned. It looked good, it looked very good.
Judge Riley sat over coffee and cigars with Sam Tinker in the hotel dining
room. Clay stepped into the door and looked quickly around. There was no one
else in sight. Loud voices came from the saloon beyond the swinging doors that
divided it from the lobby. Clay crossed the lobby, entered the dining room and
joined the two men at the table.
"Judge, you've issued an injunction that will allow Devitt to use the old
stage road, is that right? Until this case is settled?" Riley nodded, waiting.
"All right, that's fair enough. Now I want an injunction forbidding any
cutting of timber until the case is settled. This injunction should also deny
any camping along the road."
"You believe he would begin cutting before the government has made a ruling?"
"Don't you?"
Tinker hitched himself around in his chair and spoke. "He could have his
timber cut before any ruling was passed down. Fact is, he has a man, name of
Chase, acting for him in Washington. He could block any settlement of the
case, then he could pay a modest sum in damages if the ruling went against
him."
"And I'd have lost my grazing when I need it most." Riley tasted his coffee.
It was too hot. He put the cup down carefully and considered the question.
Knowing Jud Devitt, he realized the man had no intentions of waiting for any
final decision. He could not afford to wait. Yet if he gave Bell the
injunction he wanted, Devitt would be furious. He would do all he could to
break the judge. And he was an old man with a daughter to consider.
Then he smiled thoughtfully. It was too easy to judge a case by
self-interest. Too easy, and wrong. What Clay Bell asked was reasonable and
right. It would prevent Devitt from cutting timber he had no right to cut,
anyway.
It was Sam Tinker who decided him. "Might prevent bloodshed," Sam said,
stoking his pipe. "Schwabe would attempt to enforce that injunction for
Devitt. This new move would stop them cold. Schwabe would kill Clay if he
could do it under cover of the law but he would not go against the law itself.
I'll gamble on it."
Judge Riley tried his coffee again. It was black, hot, and strong. He drank,
then put down his cup. "I'll grant your injunction. I'll issue it tonight."
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"Good!" Clay came to his feet. Then he hesitated for a moment. "Judge, when
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