organization, advocating settlement of the unassigned lands in the Territory. Later he had supported the statehood lobby in Washington and had helped the Dawes Commission with the Indian land allotments.
Like McKeever, Judge Lochland had a vision, and his faith in the future of Oklahoma was unshakable. But, the judge's vision was not tainted with personal greed. Now, as he approached Owen, Lochland smiled gently, his pale old eyes alive and sparkling.
“That's fine-looking corn,” he said mildly, taking Owen's hand.
“It's fine land,” Owen said. “And the rains were on time. What brings you so far from the courthouse, Judge?”
Lochland's smile widened, but the expression was strangely without humor. “I think you can guess, Owen.”
Toller's eyes narrowed slightly. “The Brunner gang?”
The judge nodded. “But before you say no, will you listen to what I've got to say?”
Owen felt the muscles of his face go taut. As man and judge, Beuford Lochland commanded his admiration. Owen respected the man's fairness and honesty, and he knew that turning the judge down would be difficult. Lochland would not come at him with threats, as McKeever had done. He would come with truth, as straight as a lance and as hard to turn.
But Owen merely nodded pleasantly toward the creek bank. “I guess that will be as good a place as any to talk. Under the trees.”
The two men hunkered down in the new grass beneath the twisted branches of a great live oak. Lochland said, “I hear Ben McKeever came to see you the other day.”
Owen glanced at him, then nodded.
“This is a peculiar situation,” the judge said. “After all these years, Ben and I find ourselves on the same side of the fence. But our reasons are different.”
“And your methods of persuasion.”
Lochland laughed. “Ben has started putting the pressure on you, has he? In some ways our banker is a fool, I'm afraid. Sure, he can make it plenty tough on you if he goes at it hard enough, but he ought to know there are some men who won't buckle under that kind of pressure.”
“What kind of pressure did you have in mind, Judge?”
Lochland did not laugh this time. “You haven't heard about Fort Bellefront, have you? The Brunner gang hit it . night before last, burned it to the ground, got off with a fortune in freight and express goods, not to mention seven thousand dollars from the company safe. Owen, were you acquainted with Frank Ransom, the freight-company manager?”
Frowning, Owen said, “Sure. I used to stop at Belle-front when I was working for the government.”
“And Frank's wife?”
“Edith Ransom? Arch Deland used to claim she was the best flapjack cook in the territory.” He smiled faintly, remembering.
Judge Lochland paused a moment, then looked at Owen. “They're dead,” he said bluntly. “Murdered. The Brunners killed them.”
Owen sat for a moment in stunned silence. Until this moment the Brunners had not seemed quite real to him. In these great square counties, almost as large as states back East, he had imagined himself far removed from that wild hill country and the Brunners. Judge Lochland's coming had changed all that, and it made him angry and uncomfortable, knowing that he could do nothing. He plucked a handful of tender grass and flung it at the wind.
“I'm sorry about Frank and Edith. They were a fine pair.”
“The Ransoms won't be the last,” Lochland said quietly. “The Brunners are getting bolder, Owen. They're getting stronger all the time. They've got an iron-hard grip on the hills, they're poisoning the minds of the ignorant, they're making outlaws and killers out of poor farmers. Brazenly, they laugh at the law. They're making jokes of our puny efforts to stop them.”
Suddenly Owen came to his feet, every muscle tense. “I've
Lochland squared his shoulders in a hint of a shrug. “For help, Owen.”
“I can't help.” He shook his head angrily. “I told Ben I couldn't, and now I'm telling you. It's not my job; I'm just a farmer, like a hundred other men in this county.”
“I was hoping you'd see it as more than just a job,” Lochland went on in his quiet voice. “I was hoping you'd see it as a duty... an honor.”
“An honor?” Owen turned abruptly. “When I was young, maybe that's what I thought, but now I figure I've done my part, Judge. And you mention duty. I can't see it's my duty to go up in those hills and get my fool head shot off by a bunch of men I've never even seen. I have a wife and two children; my duty is to them, Judge. My duty is to stay right on this farm and look after my family. The people of this county elected Will Cushman to take care of outlaws like the Brunner boys; so Will is the man with the duty.” He dropped his hands to his sides. “I guess that's all there is to say.”
“I could appoint you special deputy, Owen. You wouldn't have to take orders from Cushman.”
Owen smiled, wearily but not angrily. “That isn't it.”
“Yes... I know. And I think I know how you feel about Elizabeth and the children. But what about Frank and Edith Ransom, and the others who are dead or penniless because of the Brunners? Don't you feel anything for them?”
Owen repeated stubbornly, “It's not my job.”
