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" By ALAN LE MAY W.
pusty King and Lew Gordon had built up a
f#4t s trlng of ranches which stretched from
to Montana. King was killed by his
powerful and unscrupulous competitor. Ben
Ihorpe- Bill Roper, King's adopted son,
undertook to break Thorpe's power. His
•
CHAPTER X
The winter dragged out slowly.
Roper’s plans, bold as they were,
bed been well laid. He had per
ceived from the first that success or
failure depended upon whether or
not he could make his war with
Tanner self sustaining. To gnaw
*way at the Tanner herds was one
thing; to turn their captures into
cash was altogether another.
Roper had hoped that he could ini
tiate his own drives to the north,
but he had found this out of the
question. On the other hand, the
trail drivers had found themselves
io vulnerable that none of them
wanted to buy cattle of questiona
ble ownership.
The Thorpe-Tanner organization
did not have this problem; they took
what they wanted and drove what
they wanted, by means of their own
trail outfits. But Roper could now
only dispose of cattle for the trail
through ranchers known to be
scrupulous and established men.
This was the strategic purpose be
hind Roper’s rehabilitation of the
eleven outfits which Tanner had orig
inally seized, and which Roper had
now put back into the hands of their
proper owners. These re-established
ranchers had not only the sympathy
but the respect of everyone who
knew anything about Texas cattle.
Through these men Roper now had
a safe and sure outlet for the cattle
recovered by Dry Camp’s experts,
while the gunfighters under such
men as Nate Liggett, Tex Daniels,
and Hat Crick Tommy supplied a
much needed protection until they
could get on their feet.
But this method, promising as it
was, was slow. Of necessity the
men whom Roper backed were cow
men without assets other than their
disputed claim to their ground.
Sometimes by mortgage loans, but
principally by silent partnerships,
Roper had now obtained interests
in nearly a dozen outfits. They
should have been thriving outfits.
But Roper found his money drain
ing away with unforeseen swiftness,
without hope of any financial re
turn until the trail should open in
the spring. Only the Mexican bor-
I der operations, which depended upon
Lee Harnish, continued to show a
thin trickle of income through the
winter months. As spring ap
proached, Roper found himself near
the end of his string.
Early in February, Shoshone
Wilce came south seeking Bill Rop
er, and found him at the Pot Hook
ranch.
“Find out anything?” Roper
asked.
Shoshone Wilce rubbed his badly
shaved chin with horny fingers. “I
don’t know as you’re going to like
this so very good, Bill.”
“Let’s have the bad news first—l
eat it up.”
“God knows there’s enough of it;
there ain’t any other kind to be
had. What do you want to know
first?”
“How’s Thorpe making out up
above?”
“I saw him in Dodge City; he
was throwing money around with a
shovel in each hand. You know
what I think? I think he can go
away and forget Tanner, and write
everything he has in Texas right
off the books, and never know the
difference!”
Roper locked his hands behind his
head and stared at the ceiling.
Sometimes it seemed to him that
trying to break Tanner was like try
ing to empty the Rio Grande with
a hand dipper. The apparently un
bounded resources of Ben Thorpe in
the middle country and in the north,
out of reach of the south Texas war,
made up a vast reservoir which
Tanner could draw on without limit.
“How is Tanner himself making
out?”
"Bill, I’ve been all up and down
the north and east part of Texas;
and I can’t see where we’ve ac
complished a damned thing.”
“You don’t know what you’re talk
ing about!”
"You know what I think?” Wilce
persisted. “I think there’s more cat
iie in this country than the world
has any use for. I don’t think you
can bother any man any more, just
by fooling with his cattle.”
"Never mind what you think.
Let's have what you know.”
T nosed around and tried to find
out what promises Tanner’s been
making for cattle on spring deliv
eries. I didn’t learn everything. No
body learns everything. But I got
enough to total up.”
Shoshone Wilce hesitated, and
didn’t say any more until he had
Rot a cigarette rolled. In the mid
dle of rolling his cigarette he went
mto a coughing fit, and spilled the
tobacco, so that he had to start over
•gain.
“Bill,” he said at last, “Cleve
Tanner’s going to drive more cattle
this year than he’s ever drove be
'ore. In just one bunch alone he
•ims to deliver fifteen thousand Lead
9n the banks of the Red!”
‘He’s crazy!” Roper shouted. “He
c *n’t do it—it’s impossible!”
‘Wfell—he thinks he can- He ,
INSTALLMENT 7
the story so far:
first step was to start a cattle war in Texas.
He made this decision against the opposi
tion of Lew Gordon and the tearful pleading
of his sweetheart, Jody Gordon. With the
aid of Dry Camp Pierce and other outlaw
gunmen, Roper conducted raid after raid
® *
knows his cattle counts better than
me. But—l’ve been all up and down
this country, and I don’t see but
what he can.”
“Well, anyway,” Roper said, “the
border gangs are going good. We’ll
go on with it, and keep going on . . .”
Bill,” Shoshone said, “how long
can you go on, the way it’s costing
you now?”
“Not much farther, I guess.”
“You going to have to quit?”
Roper shook his head. “I’ll never
quit now, Shoshone; I can’t quit.
While I’ve got one rider left with
me, or no riders, I’ll still be work
ing on Cleve Tanner. But I think
we’re going to beat him, Wilce. Aft
er all, the border gangs—we can
count on them.”
Roper continued to count on his
border gangs for two weeks more.
Then, in the middle of February,
he learned that Lee Harnish was
through.
The first word of difficulty came
when Dave Shannon pushed a little
bunch of seven hundred head
through the river at Mudcat Turn,
and found no vaqueros waiting on
the other side. Shannon waited three
days before he was forced to turn
the cattle free and ride.
The complete news of what had
happened never really came. What
Roper learned came in bit by bit,
byway of random riders who had
talked with a vaquero here, another
there.
Lee Harnish had been pressing
south with a herd of twelve hundred
head. He was two days into Mex
ico, and supposed that he was clear;
he had never had much trouble,
once he was well below the line.
Harnish took to the brush and
the hills.
But now, one moonless night, a band
reported as of at least sixty men
struck from no place, scattering the
herd, and blazing down on Harnish’s
riders alrpost before they could take
to the saddle. There had been a
sharp running fight as Harnish and
his half-dozen boys took to the brush
and the hills. Unsatisfied with sei
zure of the herd, the unknown band
had spent three days trying to hunt
down Harnish’s riders.
Lee Harnish himself, wounded in
the first skirmish, had had a hard
time getting clear; it was not known
whether or not all of his riders
were elsewhere accounted for.
After an elapse of several weeks,
an Indian-faced vaquero came hunt
ing Bill Roper; he carried a writ
ten message from Lee Harnish:
“This thing is finished up. Don’t
let anybody tell you it was Cleve
Tanners men busted into us. What
hes done, this Tanner has put some
bunches of Mex renegades up to
landing on us, they work with the
Yakis, and his Indian scouts have
spotted where we make our cross
ings. Seems like theres anyway a
dozen bands of them havent got any
thing else to do but lay watching
those crossings, and wait us out.
“About half of them is carrying
new American guns and plenty am
munition. They got our hide nailed
to the fence all right and we are
through.”
It was a long time before Roper
saw Lee Harnish again. He did not
accept Harnish’s statements off
hand; but when he had conferred
with Dave Shannon, and others of
the border men in whom he be
lieved, he was forced to accede that
the border-running phase of the at
tack on Tanner was done.
As February drew to a close, the
big herds were once more being
thrown together for the trail. From
the eleven rehabilitated outfits in
which Roper was now silent part
HOUSTON HOME JOURNAL, prrry, GEORGIA
upon Thorpe's herds. Cleve Tanner, man
ager of Thorpe's Texas holdings, seemed
helpless to stop him. In spite of his dar
ing plans. Roper's resources had dwindled
dangerously low by the time winter came.
And Thorpe seemed not to feel the losses
i •
ner, a little trickle of trail cattle
began to move toward the gariier
ing grounds on the Red. The in
come from these sales helped a lit
tle; but the proceeds were principal
ly absorbed by debts incurred in
behalf of the individual ranches. The
improvement in his situation which
Roper had hoped for did not come.
It was deep into March when Tex
Long quit.
“Look,” Tex Long said, “look.”
He did not talk easily; whatever
he said was matter-of-fact, even
now. “I got to pull out of this
game.”
Bill Roper looked at him, without
expression. “All right. How much
you figure I owe you?”
Tex smiled. “Nothing.”
A very rare flush of anger came
into Bill Roper’s face. “Tex, what’s
the matter with you?”
Tex Long made a quick, futile
gesture with his hands. “We used
to be able to jump down on them.
We can’t do that now. The Bert
Johnson place is studded with ri
fles until a man can’t take a step.
Every place you’ll find out it’s the
same. There isn’t going to be any
thing more we can do. We went
good for a while. But they got or
ganized, now. We’re through.”
Tex Long was only one of Bill
Roper’s picked gunfighters, but he
was one of the best. As March
drew on, Roper lost four more.
Into the Big Bend, into the valley
of the Nueces, Cleve Tanner had
flooded such a power of gunfighters
as Bill Roper would not have be
lieved. He had supposed that he
qpuld outplace and outsmart Tan
ner’s warrior outfits. But now his
raiding forces met everywhere a
stubborn resistance.
Roper had discounted the quit of
Tex Long; but now other news was
coming in. The Graham outfit —the
first of ail those that the Roper men
had taken—was again in the hands
of Cleve Tanner; and Nate Liggett,
assigned to protect Graham, had
headed for the tall without even a
report. Hat Crick Tommy was three
weeks missing. The Davis outfit,
left under his protection, had gone
the way of all loose outfits, and Tan
ner’s cowboys rode the range.
Dry Camp Pierce was almost the
last to come in—of those who came
in at all.
Pierce rode into the Pot Hook
Camp early in April. He was the
same, small wiry man he always
had been—his eyes watery, his jaws
poorly shaven.
* “Bill, I can’t carry these camps
no more. God knows we strung
with you while we could. We’ve et
beef, beef, beef without salt or flour,
we’ve et bobcat meat. But Bill,
there’s no lead in our guns, and
there’s no patches in our pants,
and it’s time I got to let the boys
go, to make out any way they can.”
Bill Roper looked older than Dust>
King had ever looked; his face was
like granite, with hard lines cut into
it by the weather.
“Okay,” he said. “1 understand
how you feel, Dry Camp.”
Dry Camp’s anger was gone as
quickly as it had come. “Bill,” he
said pleadingly, “it’s only—it’s on
ly—”
“It’s only that you’ve had a lot o 1
men out working for us,” Bill Roper
said more reasonably.
“Near fifty men,” Dry Camp said.
“How many you got working
now?”
Dry Camp Pierce hesitated.
“Not a damned man,” Bill Roper
said bitterly. “And now you quit
Dusty King.”
“Look you here,” Dry Camp said.
“I’ve strung with you when I
wouldn’t have strung with any other
man, let alone an upstart kid. I’ll
say this for you—you’ve made a
game fight. But kid, take my word
for it—they’re too big, and they’re
too strong.”
“You think so?” Bill Roper said.
“I know so. I don’t know what
you had, made men like Lee Har
nish and Dave Shannon and Nate
Liggett throw in with you, but they
did—the damnedest wild bunch Tex
as ever seen. Half the renegades of
the Long Trail, and your part of
King-Cordon, has gone into beating
Cleve Tanner. And where are we
now?”
“Well?”
“We aren’t any place! Kid, I tell
you we’re beat, and we’re long
beat!”
April melted into May, and Roper
had nothing to fight with any more.
Those units of his wild bunch that
had not quit had not been heard
from at all; he knew already that
the ones who had completely failed
Cleve Tanner prospered, seemingly;
and all was well with Ben Thorpe.
Bill Roper wailed at the Pot Hock
now, trying to think of some way
that he had missed. King-Gor
don denied him, and Lew Gordon
expressedly would advance nothing
more against Dusty King’s share
the partnership which had been br»
ken by death . . .
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