The Law of the Trigger

Lochland.

Knowing that Elizabeth and the boys could easily spend hours shopping at De Witt's or one of the racket stores, Owen felt free to make small purchases for the farm himself. His business took him in and out of a half- dozen stores, buying staples, a roll of wire, a new whetstone, but not until he reached Boss Tappit's barbershop did he become aware of the tight-lipped stares that seemed to follow him.

Settling into the big leather-covered chair, anticipating the luxury of a professional shave, Owen felt the unusual silence in the room. “You boys look like you just buried your best friend,” Owen said. “Is anything the matter?”

Talkative Boss Tappit said shortly, “Nope,” and slapped a hot towel on Owen's face.

That was the last word spoken at normal volume in the crowded shop until Boss dusted him with a powder brush and said, “That'll be two bits.”

Owen thought he could guess what was wrong, but he wanted to be sure. He searched the stores and street until he found Arch Deland.

The deputy grinned without humor when Owen put the question to him. “Sure, I can tell you what's wrong. This county wants the Brunners stopped, and Ben McKeever has convinced the people that you're the only man for the job.” He shook his head. “People are funny animals. They've got to thinkin' you're responsible for the Ransoms' deaths because you didn't light out for the hills when McKeever told you to.”

Owen couldn't believe it.. “They blameme?”

“I told you people are funny animals. That's the way McKeever's got them to thinkin'. They figure it's just pure stubbornness on your part that the Brunner boys are still free.”

“Stubbornness! How many ofthem ever tried to bring in a man like Ike Brunner? How many of them ever went after a killer on his own ground?”

“I know,” the old deputy said soothingly. “But they don't.”

“If they think it's as easy as all that, why don'tthey go after the gang?”

Deland laughed quietly. “I guess they figure this is a job for a specialist. And you're the only one around.”

“This is the damnedest thing I ever heard of!” Owen said angrily. He took Deland's arm and pulled him around to the side of the feed store. “Now start at the beginning with this nonsense; I want to hear it all.”

“You know the beginnin' as well as I do,” Arch said, hunkering down with his back to the plank wall. “But maybe you don't know that Will Cushman took some deputies and a pair of freight-company detectives into the hills lookin' for the Brunner hideout.”

“Will Cushman?”

“It surprised me, too, but he did it.” Not that it did any good. They came back last night empty-handed, and Will wired Fort Smith that the gang must have scattered out in their direction.”

Owen snorted. “That gang didn't scatter anywhere. They're right there in those hills.”

Arch nodded. “And that's where they'll stay, too, I guess, if it's left up to Cushman or a few outsiders like those freight detectives to bring them in.”

Owen paced a tight, angry circle. “What's Will going to do now?”

Deland shrugged. “You know Will. I guess he'll sit tight and wait for the Brunners to plan another raid... and maybe kill another couple like the Ransoms.”

“What doyou think ought to be done?” Owen demanded.

“I'm just a deputy and an old man.” Deland smiled sadly. “I don't get paid to think.”

Owen turned abruptly and glared down at his old friend. “Maybe that's what's wrong with this country. People are too busy worrying about their pay to do a job that needs to be done.” Then he saw immediately that he had overstepped the mark. “I'm sorry, Arch. I didn't mean you.”

The old deputy was not angry. “I know you didn't. You were talking about Owen Toller.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I don't know, exactly, but I think this thing is beginning to eat at you. Oh, I don't mean the pressure that McKeever's puttin' on, or the looks people give you here in Reunion: But I think you're beginnin' to have doubts about yourself. You think of the Ransoms and wonder if you could have prevented it if you'd done what McKeever said. You're beginnin' to wonder if these people are right —these people that don't have the least idea what it's like goin' after a killer. I'm afraid you're beginnin' to wonder if you don't have a duty to go after the Brunners.” Deland got slowly to his feet. “Don't let them confuse you, Owen,” he said earnestly. “You have no duty here. There's not a man in this county that's done as much for it as you have. These people...” He raked cold eyes over the faces of passers-by. “They always want somebody else to do the dirty work for them. Well, I figure you've done enough of their dirty work, and so have I.” Owen was silent.

“There's just one more thing,” Deland added after a pause. “The man that goes into those hills meanin' business stands a mighty good chance of not comin' out alive. Think about that, Owen, before you let this thing eat too much at you. A write-up in theReunion Reflex and a good attendance at the funeral would be mighty poor comforts for Elizabeth and the children.”

That afternoon, riding back into the darkening hills toward the farm, Owen thought over the things that Deland had said. He had known all along, of course, that the Brunners were none of his business, but it had been good to hear Deland say it. He was easier in his mind, knowing that he did not stand alone in his beliefs.

Engrossed in his thoughts, Owen did not notice that Elizabeth was unusually quiet. They crossed the south bend of Lazy Creek and Owen let the horses rest for a moment before starting the hard pull into the foothills. Turning his head, he could see the rocky, dark green meadows below, and the orange sun moving sluggishly toward the western horizon.

“We'll just about make it by dark,” he said absently, noticing that the children were asleep in the bed of the