The Trail Horde

  CHAPTER IX

  THE ARM OF POWER

  Lawler stayed long enough at the Circle L to speak a word with hismother. His sister Mary had gone to bed when he stepped into the frontdoor of the ranchhouse, to be greeted by Mrs. Lawler, who had heard himcross the porch, recognized his step and had come to meet him.

  He smiled at her, but there was a stiffness about his lips, and a cold,whimsical light in his eyes, that told her much.

  She drew a deep breath, and smiled faintly.

  "You have disagreed with Gary Warden," she said. "He will not keepLefingwell's agreement."

  "Said he never heard of any agreement," said Lawler. "I rode in to tellthe boys to hold the herd here until I got back from the capital. I'mgoing to see the railroad commissioner--about cars. Simmons says thereisn't a car in the state. If we can't get cars, we'll drive to RedRock." He took her face in his hands and patted her cheeks gently."Blackburn will probably bed the trail herd down on the Rabbit Ear. I'mjoining him there, and then I'm going to the capital in the morning."

  Mrs. Lawler was standing on the porch when he mounted Red King; she wasstill standing there when Lawler looked back after he had ridden half amile.

  Lawler found Blackburn and the herd on the Rabbit Ear, as he hadanticipated. The Rabbit Ear was an insignificant creek that intersectedthe Wolf at a distance of about fifteen miles from the Circle L; and theoutfit had selected for a camp a section of plain that ran to thewater's edge. It was a spot that had been used before by the men of theoutfit, and when Lawler rode up the men were stretched out in theirblankets around a small fire.

  Blackburn grinned wickedly when informed of Gary Warden's refusal tokeep Lefingwell's agreement.

  "Didn't I hit him right," he sneered. "I aim to be able to tell a coyotefirst pop, whether he's sneakin' in the sagebrush or settin' in aoffice. They ain't no difference. No cars, eh? Bah! If you say the word,me an' the boys'll hit the breeze to town an' run Warden and Simmonsout!

  "You're wastin' your time, goin' to see Morgan Hatfield, thecommissioner. Don't I know him? He tin-horned over at Laskar for two orthree years before he got into politics; an' now he's tin-hornin' thecattle owners of the state. He'll grin that chessie-cat grin of his an'tell you he can't do nothin'. An' he'll do it! Bah! This country isgoin' plumb to hell. Any country will, when there's too much law hangin'around loose!"

  He scowled and looked hard at Lawler. "We'll hold 'em at Willets, allright an' regular, until you give us the word to hit the Tom Long trail.But while you're gone I'm gettin' ready to travel--for there won't beany cars, Lawler, an' don't you forget it!"

  Lawler said nothing in reply to Blackburn's vitriolic speech. Sounperturbed did he seem that Blackburn remarked to one of the men--afterLawler wrapped himself in a blanket and stretched out near thefire--that, "the more Lawler's got on his mind the less he talks."

  Long before dawn Lawler saddled up and departed. When Blackburn awokeand rubbed his eyes, he cast an eloquent glance at the spot where Lawlerhad lain, grinned crookedly and remarked to the world at large: "Anyway,we're backin' his play to the limit--an' don't you forget it!"

  Lawler left Red King at the stable from which, the day before, GaryWarden had ridden on his way to the Hamlin cabin; and when thewest-bound train steamed in he got aboard, waving a hand to the friendswho, the day before in the Willets Hotel had selected him as theirspokesman.

  It was afternoon when Lawler stepped from the train in the capital. Hestrode across the paved floor of the train shed, through a wide irongate and into a barber-shop that adjoined the waiting-room.

  There he gave himself to the care of a barber who addressed him as Mr.Lawler in a voice of respect.

  "I've shaved you before, Mr. Lawler," said the man. "I think it was whenyou was down here last year, to the convention. I heard the speech youmade that time, nominating York Falkner for governor. Too bad you didn'trun yourself. You'd have made it, saving the state from the tree-toadwhich is hanging to it now."

  During his short stay at the Circle L the night before, Lawler hadchanged from his cowboy rigging to a black suit of civilian cut, withtight trousers that were stuffed into the tops of soft boots of dullleather. The coat was long, after the fashion of the period, cut squareat the bottom, and the silk lapels matched the flowing tie that wascarelessly bowed at the collar of a shirt of some soft, white material.He wore a black, felt hat; and out of consideration for the custom andlaws of the capital, he had shoved his six-shooter around so that it wasout of sight on his right hip. However, the cartridge-studded belt wasaround his waist; he kept the black coat buttoned over it, hiding it.

  He had been in the capital often, and had no difficulty in finding hisway to the capitol building. It was at the intersection of two widestreets--a broad, spacious structure of white stone, standing in thecenter of a well-kept grass plot. It was imposing, hinting of thegreatness of the state that had erected it, suggesting broadness ofvision and simple majesty.

  The state was not at fault, Lawler reflected as he mounted the broadstone stairs that led upward to the interior of the building; the statewas founded upon principles that were fundamentally just; and the wisdomof the people, their resources, their lives, were back of it all. Thisbuilding was an expression of the desire of the people; it representedthem; it was the citadel of government from which came the laws to whichthey bowed; it was the visible arm of power.

  Lawler crossed the big rotunda, where the light was subdued; and walkeddown a wide corridor, pausing before a door on which was the legend:"State Railroad Commissioner." A few minutes later, after having givenhis name to an attendant, he was standing in a big, well-lighted andluxuriously furnished room--hat in hand, looking at a tall, slender manwho was seated in a swivel chair at a big, flat-top desk.

  The man was older than Lawler, much older. The hair at his temples wasalmost white, but heavy and coarse. An iron-gray wisp straggled over hisbrow, where he had run a hand through it, apparently; his eyes weregray, keen, with a light in them that hinted of a cold composure equalto that which gleamed in Lawler's. The long, hooked nose, though, gavethe eyes an appearance of craftiness, and the slightly downward droop atthe corners of his mouth suggested cynicism.

  He smiled, veiling an ironic flash in his eyes by drooping the lids, ashe spoke to his visitor.

  "Hello, Lawler," he said, smiling faintly, "take a chair." He waved ahand toward one, on the side of the desk opposite him. "It's been a longtime since you struck town, hasn't it--since the last stateconvention--eh?"

  There was a hint of laughter in his voice, a suggestion of mockery inthe unspoken inference that he remembered the defeat of Lawler'scandidate.

  Lawler smiled. "Well, you did beat us, that's a fact, Hatfield. There'sno use denying that. But we took our medicine, Hatfield."

  "You had to," grinned the other. "Whenever the people of a state----"

  "Hatfield," interrupted Lawler, gravely, "it seems to me that the peopleof this state are always taking medicine--political medicine. That'swhat I have come to talk with you about."

  Hatfield's smile faded. His eyes gleamed coldly.

  "What's wrong, Lawler?"

  "It's cars, Hatfield--or rather no cars," he added, grimly. "Usually, atthis season of the year, there will be a hundred or two empty cars onthe siding at Willets--with other hundreds on the way. This year thesiding is empty, and Jay Simmons says there are no cars to be had. Hetells me there isn't an empty car in the state. Caldwell, of the Star,and Barthman, Littlefield, Corts, Sigmund, and Lester--who are ranchowners near Willets--told me to come down here and ask you what can bedone. I'm asking you."

  Hatfield eyed Lawler steadily as the latter talked; his gaze did notwaver as Lawler concluded. But a slight stain appeared in his cheeks,which instantly receded, leaving them normal again. But that slightflush betrayed Hatfield to Lawler; it told Lawler that Hatfield knew whythere were no cars. And Lawler's eyes chilled as his gaze metHatfield's.

  "I've talked that matter over with the railroad people se
veral times,"said Hatfield, in an impersonal, snapping voice. "They tell me that youcattle owners are to blame. You seem to think that it is the business ofthe railroad company to guess how many cars you will want. You waituntil the round-up is over before you begin to think about cars, andthen you want them all in a bunch."

  "You are mistaken, Hatfield. Along about the middle of the season everyprudent cattle owner arranges with a buyer or with the railroad companyfor the necessary cars. In my case, I made arrangements with JimLefingwell, the buyer at Willets, as long ago as last spring. ButLefingwell isn't buyer any more, and Gary Warden, the present buyer,refuses to recognize my agreement with Lefingwell."

  "A written agreement?"

  "Unfortunately not. Lefingwell's word was always good."

  Hatfield's smile was very near a sneer. "If you neglect the rudiments ofbusiness it seems to me that you have only yourselves to blame. In yourcase, Lawler, it is rather astonishing. You have quite a reputation forintelligence; you own one of the biggest ranches in the state; you arewealthy; and last year you tried to tell the people of the state how torun it. You even went so far as to make a speech in the convention,naming the man you preferred for governor."

  Lawler smiled, though his gaze was level.

  "Don't be unpleasant, Hatfield. You understand I am not here as apolitician, but as a mere citizen petitioning you to act in thisrailroad case. What I have done or said has no bearing on the matter atall. The railroad company will not provide cars in which to ship ourstock East, and I am here to ask you to do something about it."

  Hatfield appeared to meditate.

  "Warden offered to buy your cattle, you say?"

  Lawler nodded. But he had not mentioned to Hatfield that Warden hadoffered to buy the cattle--Hatfield had either surmised that, or hadreceived information through other sources. Lawler suspected that therailroad commissioner had been informed through the various mediums athis command, and this was evidence of collusion.

  "And Simmons says there are no cars," mused Hatfield. "Well, that seemsto leave you shippers in a bad predicament, doesn't it? Can't you driveto some other point--where you can arrange to get cars?"

  "Five hundred miles, to Red Rock, over the Tom Long trail--the worsttrail in the country."

  "What price could you get at Red Rock?"

  "The market price--about thirty dollars."

  "And what did Warden offer?"

  "Twenty-five."

  "H'm. It seems to me, considering the inconvenience of driving over theTom Long trail, you'd be better off taking Warden's offer. It'sremarkable to what lengths you cattle owners will go for a few dollars."

  "Five dollars a head on a herd of eight thousand amounts to fortythousand dollars, Hatfield," Lawler reminded him.

  "Hatfield, this isn't a question of dollars, it's a question ofprinciple. This situation is a result of a scheme to hold up the cattleowners of the state. It's mighty plain. The railroad company refusescars to the cattle owners, but will supply them to buyers like Warden.The buyers must have some assurance of getting cars, or they wouldn'tbuy a single hoof. What we want is to force the railroad to supplycattle owners with cars."

  "Why not hold your stock over the winter?" suggested Hatfield, with afaint, half-smile.

  "Hatfield, you know that can't be done. There isn't a cattle owner inthe country who is prepared to winter his stock. Had we known thissituation was to develop we might have laid in some feed--though that isan expensive method. Nothing has been done, for we expected to ship byrail as usual. Almost every owner has a stock of feed on hand, but thatis for breeders, and for other stock that doesn't grade up. If we areforced to winter our stock on the ranges half of them would die ofstarvation and exposure before spring."

  Hatfield narrowed his eyes and studied Lawler's face. He half pursed hislips for a smile, but something in the grave, level eyes that lookedinto his dissuaded him, and he frowned and cleared his throat.

  "It looks mighty bad, for a fact," he said. "The buyers seem to have youowners in something of a pocket. The worst of it is, that the thing isgeneral. I have complaints from all over the state. The railroad peoplesay there is nothing they can do. I've taken it up with them. Theexplanation they offer is that during the summer they sent most of theirrolling stock East, to take care of an unprecedented demand there. Forsome reason or other--which they don't attempt to explain--the carshaven't been coming back as they should. It looks to me, Lawler, likeyou owners are in for a bad winter."

  "What about the law, Hatfield; can't we force them to supply cars?"

  Hatfield's smile came out--it was sarcastic.

  "The wise law-makers of the state, who gave the railroad company afranchise, neglected to provide a punitive clause. There isn't a toothin the law--I've looked it over from one end to the other, and so hasthe attorney-general. This office is helpless, Lawler. I would adviseyou to accept the offer of your resident buyer. It may be that thosefellows have an agreement with the railroad company, but we haven't anyevidence, and without evidence we couldn't do anything, even if therewere teeth in the law."

  Lawler smiled and went out. As the door closed behind him Hatfield sankback into his chair and chuckled gleefully.

  "Swallowed it!" he said in an undertone; "swallowed it whole. And that'sthe guy I was most afraid of!"

  Lawler walked down the big corridor, across the rotunda, and intoanother corridor to the door of the governor's office. As he passedthrough the rotunda he was aware that several persons congregated therewatched him curiously; and he heard one of them say, guardedly:

  "That's Kane Lawler, of Wolf River. He'd have been governor, right now,if he'd said the word last fall. Biggest man in the state!"

  There was truth in the man's words, though Lawler reddened when he heardthem. Three times in the days preceding the convention which hadnominated Perry Haughton, the present governor, delegations fromvarious sections of the state had visited Lawler at the Circle L,endeavoring to prevail upon him to accept the nomination; and one daythe editor of the most important newspaper in the capital had journeyedto the Circle L, to add his voice to the argument advanced by thedelegations.

  But Lawler had refused, because previously to their visits he had givenhis word to York Falkner. And he had championed Falkner's candidacy withsuch energy and enthusiasm that in the end--on the day of theconvention--his name was better known than that of his candidate. And atthe last minute the convention was in danger of stampeding to him,threatening to nominate him despite his protests. He had been forced totell them plainly that he would not serve, if nominated and elected,because he had pledged his support to Falkner. And Falkner, at home in adistant county while the convention was in session, remained silent,refusing to answer the frantic requests that he withdraw in favor ofLawler. That attitude had defeated Falkner, as his loyalty to his friendhad increased his popularity.

  Now, pausing before the door of the governor's office, Lawler was awareof the completeness of the sacrifice he had made for Falkner. His facepaled, his eyes glowed, and a thrill ran over him. At this moment--if hehad not made the sacrifice--he might have been sitting in the governor'soffice, listening to Caldwell, or Sigmund, or others from his ownsection,--perhaps from other sections of the state--advising them,seeking to help them. For one thing, Morgan Hatfield would not have beenhis railroad commissioner!

  As it was, he was going to enter the governor's office as a merepetitioner, not sure of his reception--for Perry Haughton had beatenFalkner, and owed Lawler nothing. Indeed, after his election, Haughtonhad referred sarcastically to Lawler.

  When Lawler found himself in the presence of the governor he was in agrimly humorous mood. For despite the sarcastic flings he had directedat Lawler, the governor ponderously arose from a big chair at his deskand advanced to meet him, a hand outstretched.

  "Hello, Lawler!" he said; "glad to see you. Where have you been keepingyourself?"

  Lawler shook the governor's hand, not replying to the effusive greeting.Lawler smiled, though, and
perhaps the governor saw in the smile ananswer to his question. He led Lawler to a chair, and returned to hisown, where he sat, leaning back, watching his visitor with a speculativegaze.

  Perry Haughton was a big, florid man with sleek, smooth manners, a blandsmile and an engaging eye, which held a deep gleam of insincerity. Thegovernor posed as a genial, generous, broad-minded public official--andit had been upon that reputation that he had been nominated andelected--but the geniality had been adopted for political reasons. Thereal man was an arrogant autocrat, lusting for power and wealth.

  He disliked Lawler--feared him. Also, since the convention he had feltvindictive toward Lawler, for Lawler had offended him by his tenaciouschampionship of Falkner. He had almost lost the nomination throughLawler's efforts.

  "Been in town long?" he queried.

  "Just long enough to have a talk with Hatfield."

  The governor smiled wanly. "Hatfield has been having his troubles,Lawler. An unprecedented situation has developed in the state. Therailroad company seems to be unable to supply cars for cattle shipments.We have investigated, and so far we have been unable to discover whetherthe shortage is intentional or accidental. Whatever the cause, it is abad situation--very bad. We've got to take some action!"

  "Whatever action you take ought to be immediate, Governor," said Lawler."The round-up is over and cattle must move. That is why I am here--toask you what can be done."

  "I have taken the matter up with the attorney-general, Lawler. The lawis vague and indefinite. We can't proceed under it. However, we aregoing to pass new laws at the next session of the legislature."

  "That will be in January," said Lawler. "Half the cattle in the statewill starve before that time."

  The governor flushed. "That's the best we can do, Lawler."

  "Why not call a special session, Governor?"

  Haughton laughed. "Do you keep yourself informed, Lawler?" he said, asuspicion of mockery in his voice. "If you do, you will remember thatthe legislature has just adjourned, after acting upon some importantmatters."

  "This matter is important enough to demand another session immediately!"declared Lawler.

  The governor cleared his throat and gazed steadily at Lawler, his eyesgleaming with a vindictive light that he tried to make judicial.

  "As a matter of fact, Lawler, this question of shipping cattle is not asimportant as you might think--to the state at large, that is. If youtake all the packing out of the case you will find at the bottom that itis merely a disagreement between cattle owners and cattle buyers. Itseems to me that it is not a matter for state interference. As Iunderstand, the cattle buyers have offered a certain price. The ownersask another; and the owners want the state to force the buyers to paytheir price. I can't see that the state has any business to meddle withthe affair at all. The state can't become a clearing-house for thecattle industry!"

  "We are not asking the state to act in that capacity, Haughton. We wantthe state to force the railroad company to provide cars."

  "It can't be done, Lawler! There is no provision in the law under whichwe can force the railroad company to provide cars."

  Lawler laughed mirthlessly and got to his feet, crossing his arms overhis chest and looking down at the governor. For a time there was silencein the big room, during which the governor changed color several times,and drooped his eyes under Lawler's grimly humorous gaze. Then Lawlerspoke:

  "All right, Haughton," he said; "I'll carry your message back to myfriends at Willets. I'll also carry it to Lafe Renwick, of the _News_,here in the capital. We'll make it all plain enough, so that yourposition won't be misunderstood. The railroad company is not even aresident corporation, and yet you, as governor, refuse to act in theinterests of the state cattle owners, against it--merely to force it toplay fair. This will all make interesting conversation--and moreinteresting reading. My visit here has proved very interesting, andinstructive. Good-day, sir."

  He strode out, leaving Haughton to glare after him. Ten minutes later hewas in the editorial office of the _News_, detailing his conversationwith Hatfield and the governor to a keen-eyed man of thirty-five, namedMetcalf, who watched him intently as he spoke. At the conclusion of thevisit the keen-eyed man grinned.

  "You've started something, Lawler," he said. "We've heard something ofthis, but we've been waiting to see just how general it was. You'llunderstand, now, why I was so eager to have you run last fall. You'llnot escape so easily next time!"

  Late that night Lawler got off the train at Willets; and a few minuteslater he was talking with Caldwell and the others in the Willets Hotel.

  "It's a frame-up, men," he told them. "Hatfield and the governor bothsubscribe to the same sentiments, which are to the effect that this is afree country--meaning that if you don't care to accept what the buyersoffer you can drive your cattle out of the state or let them starve todeath on the open range."

  The big hanging-lamp swinging from the ceiling of the lounging-roomflickered a dull light into the faces of the men, revealing lines thathad not been in them some hours before. Somehow, it had seemed to them,Lawler would straighten things out for them; they had faith in Lawler;they had trusted in his energy and in his mental keenness. And when theyhad sent him to the capital they had thought that the governor would notdare to refuse his request. He was too great a man to be trifled with.

  It was plain to them, now, that the invisible power which they hadchallenged was a gigantic thing--for it had not been impressed by theirchampion.

  Their faces betrayed their disappointment; in their downcast eyes and intheir furtive glances at one another--and at Lawler--one might have readevidence of doubt and uncertainty. They might fight the powerful forcesopposed to them--and there was no doubt that futile rage against thepower surged in the veins of every man in the group about Lawler. Butthere seemed to be no way to fight; there seemed to be nothing tangibleupon which to build a hope, and no way to attack the secret, subtleforce which had so arrogantly thwarted them.

  There was an uneasy light in Caldwell's eyes when he finally looked upat Lawler. He frowned, reddened, and spoke haltingly, as though ashamed:

  "Lawler, I reckon they've got us foul. It's late--today's thetwenty-eighth of October. Not anticipatin' this deal, we delayed theround-up too long. It's a month's drive to Red Rock, over the worsttrail in the country. We all know that. If we'd happen to run into astorm on the Tom Long trail we wouldn't get no cattle to Red Rock atall. An' if we winter them on the open range there wouldn't be a soundhoof left by spring, for we've got no feed put by. It's too certain,men; an' a bad year would bust me wide open. I reckon I'll sell my stockto Gary Warden. I hate it like poison, but I reckon it's the only thingwe can do."

  The others nodded, plainly having determined to follow Caldwell'sexample. But they kept their eyes lowered, not looking at Lawler, forthey felt that this surrender was not relished by him. Caldwell almostjumped with astonishment when he felt Lawler's hands on his shoulders;and he looked hard at the other, wondering, vastly relieved when Lawlerlaughed.

  "I reckon I don't blame you," said Lawler. "It's a mighty blue outlook.Winter is close, and they've got things pretty well blocked. Theyfigured on the late round-up, I reckon. Sell to Warden and wind thething up--that's the easiest way."

  Caldwell grasped Lawler's hand and shook it vigorously.

  "I thought you'd show right disappointed over us givin' in, after whatyou tried to do, Lawler. You're sure a square man." He laughed. "You'llbe the first to sell to Warden, though," he added, with a faint attemptat humor; "for I seen Blackburn an' some more of your outfit trailin'about a thousand head in tonight. They've got them bedded down about amile from town. I reckon you'll be runnin' them into the company corralin the mornin'."

  "Not a hoof goes into the company corral, Caldwell," smiled Lawler.

  "No?" Caldwell's amazement bulged his eyes. "What then? What you aimin'to do with them?"

  "They're going to Red Rock, Caldwell," declared Lawler, quietly. "Thethousand Blackburn drove ove
r, and the seven thousand the other boys areholding at the Circle L. I wouldn't sell them to Warden if he offeredfifty dollars a head."

  It was late when Caldwell and the others rode out of town, heading intothe darkness toward their ranches to prepare their herds for the driveto the company corral at Willets. But before they left, Caldwell visitedWarden's office, in which, all evening, a light had glowed. Warden'sexpression indicated he had expected the cattlemen to surrender.

  With shamed face Caldwell carried to Warden the news of the surrender;speaking gruffly to Simmons, whom he found in the office with Warden.

  "I reckon there'll be cars--now?" he said.

  Simmons smiled smoothly. "Them that contracted for cars last spring willprobably get them," he said. "I reckon the cause of all this mix-up wasthat the company wasn't aimin' to play no hit-an'-miss game."

  "There'll be a day comin' when the cattlemen in this country will jumpon you guys with both feet!" threatened Caldwell. "It's a mighty rottendeal, an' you know it!"

  "Is Lawler accepting my price, Caldwell?" interrupted Warden, quietly;"I saw a Circle L trail herd headed toward town this evening."

  "Hell!" declared Caldwell; "Lawler ain't so weak-kneed as the rest of uscritters. He just got through tellin' me that he wouldn't sell a hoofto you at fifty! He's drivin' to Red Rock--eight thousand head!"

  When Caldwell went out, breathing fast, Warden smiled broadly atSimmons.

  "Wire for cars tonight, Simmons," he said. "But don't get them to comingtoo fast. We'll make them hold their cattle here, we'll keep themguessing as to whether you were telling them the truth about cars. Carsand fools are plentiful, eh, Simmons?"

  He got up, donned coat and hat and put out the light. At the foot of thestairs he parted from Simmons, walked down the street to the Wolf andentered.

  He found Singleton in the barroom and drew him into a corner.

  "He's driving his cattle to Red Rock, Singleton. And he's the only one.The others are selling to me. We've got him now, damn him! We've gothim!" he said, his eyes glowing with malignant triumph.