CHAPTER TWELVE
“Ike Howard had no call to fence that pond there, Mr. Dillon.
There’s enough water there for all the trail herds in the next ten years.”
“It’s on his ranch, Chester,” I said. “He’s got a right to
fence in his own range.”
“A right, maybe,” said Chester, “but no decent rancher would
take advantage of it. And he’s the one who set fire to those poor sod-busters’
homes last month, just so’s he could buy up their land.”
“We couldn’t prove that, Chester.”
“I know, Mr. Dillon, but Howard’s mean. Just down-right mean.”
I shook my head. “I think it’s more than that, Chester. It’s
the old business of making two dollars grow where one dollar grew before. I
think Howard figured on something like this when he strung that fence last
month. The trouble is –“
Chester was squinting against the sun at the trail ahead. He
pointed. “Look! Look yonder, Mr. Dillon!”
I looked to where he pointed. There must have been fifty or
sixty riders facing each other across Howard’s barb-wire fence.
“Looks like a couple of armies,” said Chester.
“Well,” I said, “it wouldn’t be the first range war that
started over water rights.” I spurred my horse. “Come on, boy.”
It looked like we’d arrived just in time. The shouting and
name-calling was getting pretty nasty, and under it all was the sound of some
pretty miserable steers begging for a drop of water. They tried to eat the
grass around them, but it was too dry and only made them thirstier.
Howard, the farm owner, was a slender man with a pinched face
and a big round buckle on his belt. There was a pistol stuck in the belt, the
way I never wear a gun, and in his hands he held a Sharps rifle. He sat at the
back of his men, with them protecting him in case shooting started.
Over the fence from Howard’s men, atop a strong but
tired-looking horse, was a man just as lean as Howard, but far more active
looking. His skin was brown and he had the look of a decent cowpoke. He
kept his hands free as he shouted at Howard. “The river’s dry as a bone!
Cottonwood pond’s our last hope for water for the herd.”
“T’ain’t my problem!”
The cowpoke shook his fist. “I been bringin’ cattle up here
to Dodge city for 12 years. Drought or no drought, the pond’s always had water
– water we need!”
“Again I say, ain’t my problem!” shouted Howard. “I made you
an offer!”
“You’re tryin’ t’ steal my cattle, get ‘em for nothin’!” The
cowboy looked glanced around at his herd, and his men bristled with guns.
Across the fence, Howard’s men were holding their rifles a little too ready.
“If you don’t let us through – !”
“Alright boys!” I said, riding right up to the fence. “Hold
it! Hold it, I said! Now put away the guns! Party’s over!”
The cowboy squinted at me. “Who says so, mister?”
“I do,” I said.
Chester rode his horse to another point on the fence, where
he had a clear angle on both leaders. I didn’t take my eyes off the lead
cowboy.
The cowboy looked at me. “Who’re you?”
“Dillon, U.S. Marshal out of Dodge.”
From my other side, at the back of his gang around the fence,
Howard spoke in that thin tone of his. “Marshal, that man and his gang are
threatenin’ to break through my fences and trespass on my property. I demand
the protection o’ the law!”
“You’ll get it, Howard,” I said sourly. “You the owner of
this herd?”
The man nodded. “That’s right, Marshal. Jack Jackson from the
Circle C spread down in the Big Bend. Maybe you can make this fella see reason.
I got a herd a’ cattle here that’s dyin’ like flies for lack a’ water. Over there
a hundred yards is plenty a’ water. Only this sneakin’ crook has fenced it in.
How about it, Marshal?”
“It’s his land, Jackson,” I said. “The law gives him the
right to fence it.”
Jackson stared at me. “Law? Right? Everythin’ I’ve got in the
world’s tied up in the herd. There’s twenty-five riders there in the saddle I
can’t even pay wages to if I lose these cattle. Does the law uphold pushin’ a
man against the wall an’ wipin’ him out?”
I shook my head. “It wasn’t intended to. Howard! Whyn’t you
ride up here to the fence and talk, eh?”
Howard rode through his men with a nasty smile. “Why, sure,
Marshal! No objections at all. My fence, ain’t it?”
“Nobody’s doubting it,” I said. “Now, look, is there any
reason you can’t get together with this man and let him take that herd in and
water it?”
“I made him an offer,” said Howard. “He turned it down.”
Jackson spat. “An offer! A doller a head a day for water or
buy the herd himself for three dollars a head!”
That was when I knew I was right about Howard. “Those’re
pretty stiff terms,” I said.
Howard stared at me like a dead fish does. “Better’n losin’
everything, like he’s gonna do,” he said.
Jackson stood up in his stirrups. “Why you dirty, low-down –“
Both men started to move towards their guns.
“Hold it! Both of you!” I shouted. “Now, look, if there’s any
gun-slinging starts, I’m going to be in on it too, you understand?” They backed
down, but only Howard looked disappointed. “Howard, I just don’t understand
you,” I said. “Most people out here stick together when trouble starts. They
don’t kick a man when he’s down. And they don’t look on a drought or a blizzard
as a chance to make a personal cleaning!”
“Just a minute, Dillon,” said Howard. “You call yourself the
law in Dodge. Alright, does the law say I can fence in my own land?”
I held his gaze for a long minute.
“Well, does it?”
“It does.”
“Then nevermind your opinions, Marshal,” said Howard. “All I
want outta you is enforcement of the law.”
The heat and my temper. But I’d shot a man yesterday. That
has a sobering effect. “Alright, Howard, you’ll get it. And that’s all you’ll
get. Jackson, you better have your boys start the herd circling.”
Jackson studied me. “This mean you’re backin’ him up,
Marshal?”
There was a bad taste in my mouth. “I’m backing up the law,
that’s all, Jackson.”
“Then I don’t think much of your laws up here,” he said.
“I only enforce ‘em, I don’t make ‘em.”
“Y’know,” said Jackson, “there’s a fella named Rance…”
“I’ve met him,” I said.
Jackson was still studying me. “He says Dodge’s become a no
good town. He said it was the fault of the new Marshal there.”
“I know what he says, Jackson. Now you better circle that
herd.”
On the other side of the fence, Howard said, “I’ll say you
better! I’m orderin’ my men to shoot the first man or steer that comes through
that fence!”
That did it. “Chester, you cover Howard.”
“Yessir, Mr. Dillon.” Somehow he made the draw look lazy, but
his gun appeared in his hand like it’d been there all along.
“If he orders any of his men to fire a shot – kill him.”
Chester nodded, his face blank. “Be a pleasure, Mr. Dillon.”
Howard stared at me with wide eyes. “What’s the idea,
Marshal?”
“You wanted the law enforced? Alright, you’re getting it! But
I’m gonna do the enforcing, Howard, not you. So if you’re smart you won’t give
any orders about shooting.”
Jackson pursed his lips, then he nodded slowly. “Alright, Dillon.
You got a tough job. I guess you’re tryin’ to do it fair and square.”
It was the kindest thing anyone’d said to me since I’d moved
back to Dodge. “Man does what he has to do, Jackson.”
Jackson nodded. “I know. Like with me. That herd o’ mine beds
down without water, most of ‘em won’t get off the ground in the mornin’. So,
law or no law, we’re goin’ through that fence.”
“I’ll have to stop you,” I said.
“I know you have to try,” he said.
“Jackson,” I said. “Give me some time.”
“We ain’t got a lot of time, Marshal. We’re losin’ fifteen
head an hour, now.”
“Just give me some time, Jackson, to try to figure out
something.”
Jackson blinked a couple times. “Tell you what, Marshal. I’ll
give you ‘til nine o’clock. But then we’re rushin’ that fence.”
