Ranch War

“It—It’s come—Doc!” Leckenby gasped. “Got me—Buck—carried me clear. Sen-Send—for Cash—Trini ——”

The words ended and the sheriff went limp in the men’s arms.

Chapter 13 NOBODY LIKES HANGINGS

“WHERE’S THE KID?” MRS. LECKENBY ASKED, COMING from the bedroom into which, half an hour before, her husband had been carried.

“Some fellers come, toting shotguns ’n’ painted for war,” Calamity answered, drawing out a chair and seating the haggard-faced woman in it. “He’s got two of ’em watching front ’n’ back and’s took the other two into town to help ask questions.” She indicated the coffee-pot and other utensils on the table. “I hope you don’t mind, but I threw up some coffee for us.”

“Thank you, Calamity.”

“How’s the sheriff?”

“The doctor’s still working on him.”

“Looks like he knows what he’s doing.”

“Manny’s good at his work,” Mrs. Leckenby confirmed. “Did you see Orde Endicott, Calamity?”

Knowing that the question had come out of a desire to avoid thinking about her own troubles, Calamity told the woman what had happened. When the girl concluded her story with a blistering condemnation of the lawyer, Mrs. Leckenby shook her head.

“He’s got cause for being what he is, Calamity. You said that you’d heard he was a good lawyer. He was, a great one.”

“He sure ain’t now!” Calamity growled, pouring out cups of coffee.

“No, not now,” Mrs. Leckenby conceded. “He used to be and had a fine future ahead of him, as a defense attorney back East. He was against hanging.”

“Nobody likes hangings, but there’s times when they’re necessary.”

“He didn’t think so and always claimed hanging didn’t stop people committing murders.”

“Maybe they don’t stop ’em,” Calamity grunted. “But they sure make folks think twice afore murdering or stealing hosses. And hanging stops ’em doing it twice.”

“Orde Endicott learned that, the hard way,” Mrs. Leckenby said gently. “He was so obsessed with the idea that he took up the case of a man, a butler, found guilty of the brutal murder of a woman. Although Orde knew the man was guilty, he obtained a retrial. At that time he had the political connections to do it.”

“What’d he do a fool thing like that for?”

“It was his belief that if he could make people think an innocent man had nearly been hung, there would be a public outcry to stop all hanging. In the retrial, he pulled every trick he knew—confused the witnesses, brought up misleading points and pieces of false evidence. He even had a false confession obtained from a dying criminal ——”

“The lousy son-of-a-bitch!” Calamity spat out.

“He thought he was acting for the best,” Mrs. Leckenby answered gently. “And he paid a high price for it. The man was acquitted and set free. To show his faith in him, Orde hired him as his butler. It was a gesture designed to prove that even a guilty man could redeem himself given the chance—and it failed.”

“How come?”

“Less than a month later the man killed two more women in the same drugged rage that had caused his first victim’s death. He smoked marijuana cigarettes, which Orde had insisted were harmless. One of the victims was Orde’s wife.”

“The hell you say!” Calamity breathed. “So that’s why he moved West for his health.”

“That’s why,” the woman agreed. “He nearly went off his head. His health was ruined and he took to drinking. Naturally, all his influential political friends deserted him. They were a pack of liberal-intellectual scum who didn’t dare face up to the public outcry. Orde drifted around, until we found him and brought him here.”

“You?” Calamity asked.

“I’m his sister,” the woman said simply. “We fetched him to Hollick City, got him sober enough to hang out his shingle and do what little legal work’s needed here. There’s not a lot and he can handle it well enough, when he’s sober.”

“I’m sorry I called him what I did,” Calamity said contritely.

“He was misguidedly stupid,” the sheriff’s wife answered. “But he paid for——”

A knock at the front door ended the words and brought both women to their feet. The Kid entered, crossing to the table and laying his rifle on it. Before leaving, he had collected the weapon from the rack.

“I found the feller’s told the sheriff about that fuss,” he said. “He was scared white-haired.”

“Afore, or after, you found him?” Calamity asked dryly.

“Both. Seems like that Vandor hombre told him about seeing Old Man Skelter toting the scatter toward the Fittern place and he just brought the word out of civic duty.”

“Does the feller still have his ears?” Calamity inquired.

“Just about. I stopped them two gents I was with tearing ’em off,” the Kid replied. “Town’s about even in its feelings, ma’am. But most of ’em’re set to back up your husband, well or hurt.”

“I knew they would,” Mrs. Leckenby sighed, eyes bright. At such a time, a local peace officer learned how his town regarded him. It seemed that the majority of Hollick City’s population respected her husband sufficiently to stand by him. Then she saw the misery on the girl’s face and asked, “What is it, Calamity?”

“I feel that I brought all this on, coming here!” Calamity answered.

“Like the sheriff said on the street,” drawled the Kid. “It’d’ve come sooner or later. You arriving likely brought it to the boil.”

“Neither I nor Day blame you for coming, child,” Mrs. Leckenby went on. “We’ve been expecting trouble from that Eastfield woman for a long time.”

“They’d never’ve dast make that play again’ us with the sheriff around,” the Kid stated. “So they lured him out of town and bushwhacked him. Ma’am, I’m real sorry. I should’ve asked when I come in. How is the sheriff?”

“Doctor Goldberg’s still with him.”

“He’ll pull through,” the Kid predicted. “And, ma’am, way I see it, your husband’s a forty-four-caliber man.”

Knowing that such a tribute was high indeed when given by a Texan,* Mrs. Leckenby showed pleasure despite her worry.

“Way those two polecats lit out when they saw the sheriff coming into town, I’ll go along with all Lon’s said,” Calamity remarked. “They didn’t have the guts to face up to your husband and Lon here.”

The bedroom door opened and Doctor Goldberg stepped out. Coming to her feet, Mrs. Leckenby needed only to look at his face to know the answer, but she asked the question just the same.

“How is he?”

“Stubborn, ornery, with a body, that I should mention such a thing in front of a young lady, that would stop a cannon-ball,” Goldberg answered. “He’ll live, but he’s off his feet for a spell. I’ll ask Hal, or Swede to ride out to the Rafter C for Cash Trinian.”

“Best let me go, Doc,” the Kid suggested quietly. “Might be they’ve got somebody watching the trail. If they have, somebody could get hurt.”

“You go then,” Goldberg confirmed. “I’ve got enough sick folk on my hands right now and don’t want more.”

“Don’t let that worry you,” drawled the Kid mildly. “Happen there’s anybody watching the trail, you won’t be needed.”

“Want me along, Lon?” asked Calamity.

“I can handle it best on my lonesome,” the Kid replied. “You stay put, gal. Maybe Miss Eastfield’s decided the