they called evidence, loot from different robberies, cached or planted in the barn. I don't doubt that they found it, all right. It seemed that Steele had sent them and told them just where to look to find the evidence."
Cable's eyes clouded as he understood the implications. He had known of the rivalry between Steel and Ray Locke, and the cause of it. That Steele would use the newly formed committee of vigilance as an instrument for his private quarrels was startling, but there seemed no doubt that he had done so.
"They questioned Ray about it, then were going to lynch him," Locke went on. "He put up a fight and got shot—probably accidentally. They were still in the mood to string him up; only I stepped in then." His eyes probed the other man's. "What about these vigilantes? What do you know of them?"
Cable hesitated. He was profoundly shocked and disturbed, and after a moment he looked up again. "I don't blame you for feeling as you do, Locke," he conceded. "It's a dirty business. As for the vigilantes, I helped organize them, and so did Steele. Our idea was that they were going to organize anyway, so we figured that we'd be better off if we were in with them, instead of on the outside, with them working against us. But I give you my word that I knew nothing of this other. If Steele is using them for a private feud—and it sounds that way—then he's doing it all on his own.
I
wouldn't do such a thing, particularly against you Lockes. It would be doubly crazy, after your agreement to work with us—"
"I did agree," Locke cut in grimly. "But that was because you had me over a barrel. That's out now, over and done with, since the barrel's smashed."
Cable looked surprised. "There's a lot here that I don't understand," he admitted. "But what I was going to say is, I know that Reta liked Ray. You don't think I'd do anything to hurt her, do you?"
"I think you're doing a devil of a lot that's going to hurt her," Locke retorted bluntly. "She's no child, as you may still think, or a fool. And speaking of barrels, you're putting yourself over one, even if you don't realize it. But I believe you, as far as Ray is concerned. As to what I meant, a lot of other things happened tonight." He went on to describe events, and horror mounted in Cable's eyes at the recital.
"That's infamous," Cable exclaimed. "Setting a fire, knowing that Ray was wounded, the old man sick and blind—I'd like to get my hands on whoever was responsible." He stopped, as though considering the implications, then got control of himself. "I'm sorry, Locke; I truly am. You've no idea who was doing that?"
"I can guess, the same as you. But guessing aside, I'm pretty much stumped," Locke confessed. "Most of it just doesn't seem to make sense. Of course, there's probably a lot here that I don't know about. I aim to go back and have a look and see if I can find anything. Now maybe you understand what I meant when I said that you don't have any further hold on me. My father is dead, and Ray is likely to be. I'm giving you fair warning. You put me in as sheriff, and I intend to use all the power of the law to clean up this country."
Cable nodded soberly. "You can see that I wouldn't have weakened my own position in any such manner," he pointed out. "After what has happened, I don't blame you."
"I owe my life to Reta, and so will Ray, if he lives," Locke said. "I won't forget that, or how much she likes you. Now I'm going to give you some advice, Cable, though I know that most people would a lot rather take castor oil.
Don't play along with Steele any longer!
You can make a break now, or be broken. I'm thinking about Reta."
"I figured I was smart," Cable said finally. "I thought I had everything planned so that nothing could backfire. Now all I'm sure of is that it's a mess."
9
Fletcher Bannon's face was grave when he came out of the sick room. He nodded to Locke, then to Cable and Reta, who had joined in the vigil.
"He's resting nicely," Bannon told
Cable's eyes clouded as he understood the implications. He had known of the rivalry between Steel and Ray Locke, and the cause of it. That Steele would use the newly formed committee of vigilance as an instrument for his private quarrels was startling, but there seemed no doubt that he had done so.
"They questioned Ray about it, then were going to lynch him," Locke went on. "He put up a fight and got shot—probably accidentally. They were still in the mood to string him up; only I stepped in then." His eyes probed the other man's. "What about these vigilantes? What do you know of them?"
Cable hesitated. He was profoundly shocked and disturbed, and after a moment he looked up again. "I don't blame you for feeling as you do, Locke," he conceded. "It's a dirty business. As for the vigilantes, I helped organize them, and so did Steele. Our idea was that they were going to organize anyway, so we figured that we'd be better off if we were in with them, instead of on the outside, with them working against us. But I give you my word that I knew nothing of this other. If Steele is using them for a private feud—and it sounds that way—then he's doing it all on his own.
I
wouldn't do such a thing, particularly against you Lockes. It would be doubly crazy, after your agreement to work with us—"
"I did agree," Locke cut in grimly. "But that was because you had me over a barrel. That's out now, over and done with, since the barrel's smashed."
Cable looked surprised. "There's a lot here that I don't understand," he admitted. "But what I was going to say is, I know that Reta liked Ray. You don't think I'd do anything to hurt her, do you?"
"I think you're doing a devil of a lot that's going to hurt her," Locke retorted bluntly. "She's no child, as you may still think, or a fool. And speaking of barrels, you're putting yourself over one, even if you don't realize it. But I believe you, as far as Ray is concerned. As to what I meant, a lot of other things happened tonight." He went on to describe events, and horror mounted in Cable's eyes at the recital.
"That's infamous," Cable exclaimed. "Setting a fire, knowing that Ray was wounded, the old man sick and blind—I'd like to get my hands on whoever was responsible." He stopped, as though considering the implications, then got control of himself. "I'm sorry, Locke; I truly am. You've no idea who was doing that?"
"I can guess, the same as you. But guessing aside, I'm pretty much stumped," Locke confessed. "Most of it just doesn't seem to make sense. Of course, there's probably a lot here that I don't know about. I aim to go back and have a look and see if I can find anything. Now maybe you understand what I meant when I said that you don't have any further hold on me. My father is dead, and Ray is likely to be. I'm giving you fair warning. You put me in as sheriff, and I intend to use all the power of the law to clean up this country."
Cable nodded soberly. "You can see that I wouldn't have weakened my own position in any such manner," he pointed out. "After what has happened, I don't blame you."
"I owe my life to Reta, and so will Ray, if he lives," Locke said. "I won't forget that, or how much she likes you. Now I'm going to give you some advice, Cable, though I know that most people would a lot rather take castor oil.
Don't play along with Steele any longer!
You can make a break now, or be broken. I'm thinking about Reta."
"I figured I was smart," Cable said finally. "I thought I had everything planned so that nothing could backfire. Now all I'm sure of is that it's a mess."
9
Fletcher Bannon's face was grave when he came out of the sick room. He nodded to Locke, then to Cable and Reta, who had joined in the vigil.
"He's resting nicely," Bannon told
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