CHAPTER IX
THE EVIL EYE OF THE SAWTOOTH
Oppression is a growth that flourishes best in the soil of opportunity.It seldom springs into full power at once. The Sawtooth Cattle Companyhad begun much as its neighbours had begun: with a tract of land,cattle, and the ambition for prospering. Senator Warfield had thenbeen plain Bill Warfield, manager of the outfit, who rode with his menand saw how his herds increased,--saw too how they might increasefaster under certain conditions. At the outset he was not perhaps,more unscrupulous than some of his neighbours. True, if a homesteaderleft his claim for a longer time than the law allowed him, BillWarfield would choose one of his own men to file a contest on thatclaim. The man's wages would be paid. Witnesses were never lacking toswear to the improvements he had made, and after the patent had beengranted the homesteader (for the contestant always won in that country)the Sawtooth would pay him for the land. Frequently a Sawtooth manwould file upon land before any other man had claimed it. Sometimes aSawtooth man would purchase a relinquishment from some poor devil of aclaim-holder who seemed always to have bad luck, and so becamediscouraged and ready to sell. An intelligent man like Bill Warfieldcould acquire much land in this manner, give him time enough.
In much the same manner his herds increased. He bought out smallranchers who were crowded to the selling point in one way or another.They would find themselves fenced off from water, the Sawtooth havingacquired the water rights to creek or spring. Or they would be hemmedin with fenced fields and would find it next to impossible to make useof the law which gave them the right to "condemn" a road through. Theywould not be openly assailed,--Bill Warfield was an intelligent man. Adozen brands were recorded in the name of the Sawtooth Cattle Company,and if a small rancher found his calf crop shorter than it should be,he might think as he pleased, but he would have no tangible proof thathis calves wore a Sawtooth brand.
Inevitably it became necessary now and then to stop a mouth that wasready to speak unwelcome truths. But if a Sawtooth man were known tohave committed violence, the Sawtooth itself was the first to put thesheriff on his trail. If the man successfully dodged the sheriff andmade his way to parts unknown, the Sawtooth could shrug its shouldersand wash its hands of him.
Then whispers were heard that the Sawtooth had on its pay roll men whowere paid to kill and to leave no trace. So many heedless ones crossedthe Sawtooth's path to riches! Fred Thurman had been one; a"bull-headed cuss" who had the temerity to fight back when the Sawtoothcalmly laid claim to the first water rights to Granite Creek, havingbought it, they said, with the placer claim of an old miner who hadprospected along the headwaters of Granite at the base of Bear Top.
By that time the Sawtooth had grown to a power no poor man could hopeto defeat. Bill Warfield was Senator Warfield, and Senator Warfieldwas a power in the political world that immediately surrounded him.Since his neighbouring ranchmen had not been able to prevent his steadyclimbing to the position he now held, they had small hope of pullinghim down. Brit was right. They did well to hang on and continueliving in that country.
At open killing, one that would attract the attention of the outsideworld might be avenged. The man who committed the crime might bepunished,--if public opinion were sufficiently massed against him. Inthat case Senator Warfield would cry loudest for justice. But it wouldtake a stronger man than the country held to raise the question of FredThurman's death and take even the first steps toward proving it amurder.
"It ain't that they can do anything, Mr Warfield," the man from Whispersaid guardedly, urging his horse close to the machine that stood in thetrail from Echo. It was broad day--a sun-scorched day to boot--andSenator Warfield perspired behind the wheel of his car. "It's the talkthey may get started."
"What have they said? The girl was at the ranch for several days. Shedidn't talk there, or Hawkins would have told me."
"She was sick. I saw her the other day at the Quirt, and she more'nhalf recognised me. Hell! How'd _I_ know she was in there among themrocks? Everybody that was apt to be riding through was accounted for,and I knew there wasn't any one coming horseback or with a rig. Myhearing's pretty good."
Warfield moved the spark lever up and down on the wheel while hethought. "Well," he said carefully at last, "if you're falling down inyour work, what are you whining about it to me for? What do you want?"
Al moistened his lips with his tongue. "I want to know how far I cango. It's been hands off the Quirt, up to now. And the Quirt'sbeginning to think it can get away with most anything. They've throweda fence across the pass through from Sugar Spring to Whisper. Thatsends us away around by Three Creek. You can't trail stock acrossGranite Ridge, nor them lava ledges. If it's going to be hands off, Iwant to know it. There's other places I'd rather live in, if theQuirt's going to raise talk about Fred Thurman."
Senator Warfield pulled at his collar and tie as if they choked him."The Quirt has made no trouble," he said. "Of course, if they beginthrowing fences across our stock trails and peddling gossip, that isanother story. I expect you to protect our interests, of course. AndI have never made a practice of dictating to you. In this case"--hesent a sharp glance at Al--"it seems to me your interests are involvedmore than ours. As to Fred Thurman, I don't know anything about it. Iwas not here when he died, and I have never seen this girl of Brit'swho seems to worry you. She doesn't interest me, one way or the other."
"She seems to interest Bob a whole lot," Al said maliciously. "He rodeover to see her yesterday. She wasn't home, though."
Senator Warfield seemed unmoved by this bit of news, wherefore Alreturned to the main issue.
"Do I get a free hand, or don't I?" he insisted. "They can't be letpeddle talk--not if I stay around here."
Senator Warfield considered the matter.
"The girl's got the only line on me," Al went on. "The inquest was asclean as I ever saw. Everything all straight--and then, here she comesup----"
"If you know how to stop a woman's mouth, Al, you can make a million amonth telling other men." Senator Warfield smiled at him. Then heleaned across the front seat and added impressively, "Bear one thing inmind, Al. The Sawtooth cannot permit itself to become involved in anyscandal, nor in any killing cases. We're just at the most crucialpoint with our reclamation project, over here on the flat. Thelegislature is willing to make an appropriation for the building of thecanal, and in two or three months at the latest we should begin sellingagricultural tracts to the public. The State will also throw open theland it had withdrawn from settlement, pending the floating of thiscanal project. More than ever the integrity of the Sawtooth CattleCompany must be preserved, since it has come out openly as a backer ofthe irrigation company. Nothing--_nothing_ must be permitted to standin the way."
He removed his thin driving cap and wiped his perspiring forehead."I'm sorry this all happened--as it has turned out," he said, with realregret in his tone. "But since it did happen, I must rely upon youto--to--er----"
"I guess I understand," Al grinned sardonically. "I just wanted you toknow how things is building up. The Quirt's kinda overreached itself.I didn't want you comin' back on me for trying to keep their feet outathe trough. I want you to know things is pretty damn ticklish rightnow, and it's going to take careful steppin'."
"Well, don't let your foot slip, Al," Senator Warfield warned him."The Sawtooth would hate to lose you; you're a good man."
"Oh, I get yuh," Al retorted. "My foot ain't going to slip---- If itdid, the Sawtooth would be the first to pile onto my back!" The lastsentence was not meant for the senator's ears. Al had backed hishorse, and Senator Warfield was stepping on the starter. But it wouldnot have mattered greatly if he had heard, for this was a point quitethoroughly understood by them both.
The Warfield car went on, lurching over the inequalities of the narrowroad. Al shook his horse into a shambling trot, picking his waycarelessly through the scattered sage.
His horse travelled easily, now and t
hen lifting a foot high to avoidrock or exposed root, or swerving sharply around obstacles too high tostep over. Al very seldom travelled along the beaten trails, thoughthere was nothing to deter him now save an inherent tendency towardsecretiveness of his motives, destinations and whereabouts. If thecountry was open, you would see Al Woodruff riding at some distancefrom the trail--or you would not see him at all, if there were gulliesin which he could conceal himself. He was always "line-riding," orhunting stray stock--horses, usually--or striking across to someline-camp of the Sawtooth on business which he was perfectly willing tostate.
But you will long ago have guessed that he was the evil eye of theSawtooth Company. He took no orders save such general ones as SenatorWarfield had just given him. He gave none. Whatever he did he didalone, and he took no man into his confidence. It is more thanprobable that Senator Warfield would never have known to a certaintythat Al was responsible for Thurman's death, if Al had not been worriedover the Quirt's possible knowledge of the crime and anxious to knowjust how far his power might go.
Ostensibly he was in charge of the camp at Whisper, a place far enoughoff the beaten trails to free him from chance visitors. The Sawtoothkept many such camps occupied by men whose duty it was to look afterthe Sawtooth cattle that grazed near; to see that stock did not "bogdown" in the tricky sand of the adjacent water holes and die beforehelp came, and to fend off any encroachments of the smaller cattleowners--though these were growing fewer year by year, thanks to theweeding-out policy of the Sawtooth and the cunning activities of suchas Al Woodruff.
It may sound strange to say that the Sawtooth country had not had areal "killing" for years, though accidental deaths had been ratherfrequent. One man, for instance, had fallen over a ledge and brokenhis neck, presumably while drunk. Another had bought a few sticks ofdynamite to open up a spring on his ranch, and at the inquest whichfollowed the jury had returned a verdict of "death caused by beingblown up by the accidental discharge of dynamite." A sheepman wasstruck by lightning, according to the coroner, and his widow had beenglad to sell ranch and sheep very cheaply to the Sawtooth and return toher relatives in Montana. The Sawtooth had shipped the sheep within amonth and turned the ranch into another line-camp.
You will see that Senator Warfield had every reason to be sincere whenhe called Al Woodruff a good man; good for the Sawtooth interests, thatmeans. You will also see that Brit Hunter had reasons for believingthat the business of ranching in the Sawtooth country might be classedas extra hazardous, and for saying that it took nerve just to hang on.
That is why Al rode oblivious to his surroundings, meditating no doubtupon the best means of preserving the integrity of the Sawtooth and atthe same time soothing effectively the ticklishness of the situation ofwhich he had complained. It was his business to find the best means.It was for just such work that the Sawtooth paid him--secretly, to besure--better wages than the foreman, Hawkins, received. Al wasconscientious and did his best to earn his wages; not because heparticularly loved killing and spying as a sport, but because theSawtooth had bought his loyalty for a price, and so long as he feltthat he was getting a square deal from them, he would turn his handagainst any man that stood in their way. He was a Sawtooth man, and hefought the enemies of the Sawtooth as matter-of-factly as a soldierwill fight for his country. To his unimaginative mind there wassufficient justification in that attitude. As for the ease with whichhe planned to kill and cover his killing under the semblance ofaccident, he would have said, if you could make him speak of it, thathe was not squeamish. They'd all have to die some day, anyway.