Monument Rock (Ss) (1998) (19 page)

"You were looking for an attorney?"

Rock drew several papers from a homemade buckskin wallet, a large wallet he too
k
from the inside of his shirt. It was bloodstained. Without further comment, he hande
d
it to Whiting.

The lawyer opened the papers curiously, then started and glanced up at Rock, the
n
back-at the papers. His face was curiously white. He skimmed over the others swiftly
,
then sat back in his chair, looking up at the man before him. "You know what thes
e
will mean, if you produce them? If you even hint they exist?"

Rock nodded.

"It means they'll kill you."

"They can try."

"Who sent you to me?" Whiting was measuring Rock with quick, curious eyes.

"Leosa Barron. I made a deal to help her out for a while."

"Then you're already in trouble! You can't stay there, you know, they'll run yo
u
off."

"You mean Rorick and Wilson?
They had a pass at runnin' her off today.
They didn'
t
get far."

"You stopped them? Alone?"

He shrugged and changed the subject. "I'm going to build that dam for her."

"You are biting off a chunk."

"We'll see."

"What do you want me to call you, young man?"

"My name is Rock."

"Yes . .. yes, I see. Who have you told? Anyone beside Miss Barron?"

"I only told her the last name. Figured it was enough for now."

Whiting lifted the papers, then got to his feet. "When do you want to use these?"

Rock shrugged. "I came to ask your advice, but my idea would be now, down in th
e
Longhorn."

"Now?" Whiting's exclamation faded into a smile. "Yes, it would be amusing. Can yo
u
shoot, friend? This is going to blow the top off the town. It might even blow ou
r
tops off."

Rock nodded. "It might. Let's do it this way. You put these in a safe place. The
n
you make out bills to all the folks who owe me money. Make them out particularl
y
to Van Rorick. Then you go down to the Longhorn, and I'll drift in, too. Spring i
t
on him and let's see what happens."

"Not tell them who you are?"

"Not right now. I'm not duckin' a fight, but what I want is to get the picture o
f
things. Also, I'd like to have a showdown with Rorick on Leosa Barron. Because befor
e
he gets through, I'm goin' to give him so much trouble he'll forget her."

The lawyer considered. It was not a bad approach, and whatever was done had bette
r
be done at once if they were going to block Van Rorick in his attempt to disposses
s
Leosa Barron. He got to his feet. "You go first," he said, "then I'll drift in. Thi
s
should be fun."

The Longhorn was ablaze with light when Rock pushed through the door and walked t
o
the bar. Rorick was there, and he was seated at a table with Lute Wilson, whose fac
e
was puffed and swollen out of shape, and another man. Rorick looked up, and Roc
k
felt the shock of his eyes, of the hatred in them.

The bartender served him without comment, and Rock scanned the room. He had neve
r
seen it before, but he knew it from the countless tales he had heard. He was barel
y
tasting his drink when the door opened again and Ranee Whiting walked in. Withou
t
seeming to notice Rock, he went to the bar and ordered a drink, then he glanced aroun
d
at Rorick. "Van," he said, "I've news for you. News, and a bill."

"A bill?" Rorick was puzzled but wary. "What do I owe you for?"

"Not me. A client. The owner of this property, in fact. You owe him rent for fou
r
years on the Longhorn, and on the Placer Saloon, down the street. The total, accordin
g
to my figures, comes to nine thousand three hundred and seventy dollars."

Rorick's face was ashen, then blood turned it crimso
n
and he started to his feet. "What's this you're givin' me?" he demanded. "I bough
t
this place from Jody Thompson!"

"That was unfortunate," Whiting replied calmly. "You should have investigated hi
s
title. He owned neither the buildings nor the land on which they stand. Actually
,
he was a squatter here, and had no legal rights. This is not, as he supposed, governmen
t
land. It belongs to my client, and has been in his family for forty years!"

Van Rorick was livid; also, he was frightened. He had built up his influence locall
y
partly on wealth, but mostly on strength. He had little cash, certainly nowhere i
n
the neighborhood of nine thousand dollars. If he were compelled to pay up, he coul
d
do so only by selling off all his stock; furthermore, he could be dispossessed here.

His eyes searched Whiting's face. "This is some trick," he protested. "You and tha
t
girl have rigged this on me. You won't get away with it!"

Ranee shrugged. Glancing toward the far wall of the saloon, he caught the eye o
f
an old man, bearded and gray, who sat there. "Mawson," he asked, "how did this tow
n
get its name?"

"Joe Billy?" Mawson got to his feet, enjoying the limelight. "Why, she was name
d
for the son of the man that located the first claims hereabouts. He inherited thi
s
chunk of land, something like forty thousand acres, from his father, who got it throug
h
marriage to a Valdez gal."

Rorick walked to the bar. He was trapped, but he was thinking swiftly. He shoul
d
be able to make a deal with Whiting. Certainly, the man had no money. He owed a ba
r
bill, and he owed for supplies down the street. There was sure to be a way to swin
g
it.

Yet even deeper within him, there was a feverish desperation, anger at Whiting fo
r
bringing this up, in public, and anger at it coming now when it might frustrate al
l
hi
s
plans. His eyes were calm, but inwardly he was seething. There had to be a way ...
a
nd maybe Lute could handle it. Lute, or-his mind returned to the slim and silen
t
man who waited at the table with Wilson-or him.

"Your unsupported statement means nothing," Rorick said, fighting for calmness. "Yo
u
have some papers? Deeds?"

"I have everything that's necessary," Whiting replied. "When the time comes I'l
l
produce them. Not until then. I intend"-he smiled at Rorick-"to protect my client'
s
interests so they will not disappear until we meet, if must be, in court. That,"
h
e added, "would be in Santa Fe."

Van Rorick winced. He dared not show himself in Santa Fe. Did Whiting realize that?

But here . . . ? Anything might happen.

"We can make a deal, Ranee," he said quietly. "I can't pay that money now, and I'
m
sure you don't want to hurry me. I can pay a part of it, and make a deal for th
e
rest."

Whiting shook his head. "No, the saloon is doing business," he said. "Some of tha
t
profit can go to my client as well as to you. All he wants from you is the arrear
s
in rent."

He paused, his eyes studying Rorick. "That, or you leave the country."

"What!" Rorick's lips thinned down. "So that's it? I'll see you in hell first! An
d
whoever your client is!"

"You have five days. No more." Whiting finished his drink and placed the glass o
n
the bar.

After Whiting had gone, Van Rorick stood at the bar for a few minutes, and for th
e
first time recalled that the stranger from Leosa Barren's ranch was in the room
,
and that he had entered just before Whiting! Was there a tie-u
p
there? No sooner had the thought entered his mind than he was sure such was the case.

That this had come up when the stranger arrived was too much for a coincidence.

Whiting, and this man. Who was he, then? Rorick was thinking swiftly. Somehow, h
e
must get rid of both. After all, hadn't he managed to rid himself of Tom Andrews?

With Whiting out of it and whatever papers he had in his possession, he would b
e
even more secure.

Thanks to his carefully planted rumors, Leosa Barron was disliked by all the wome
n
of the town, and suspected by most of the men. The presence of Rock on her ranc
h
would make those suspicions seem fact. Moreover, his mysterious arrival would hel
p
... but whatever was done must be done carefully to avert all suspicion from himself.

And there was a way ... with them gone, he could always claim Whiting had tried t
o
defraud him.

Rock left the saloon and, without returning to see Whiting, headed for the ranch.

He had anticipated trouble, and knew that Rorick would not take this lying down.

The man's sudden quiet disturbed him more than he cared to admit.

At daybreak Rock was riding, and by noon he had made a careful survey of the sit
e
chosen for the dam. It was a good spot, no doubt about it, and looking at the massiv
e
stone walls above, he had an idea how it could be done.

He said nothing to Leosa, but after a quick lunch, took some giant powder from
a
cache near the house and returned to the mountain. By nightfall he had his firs
t
set of holes in, and had them charged.

Leosa, a new warmth in her eyes, reported no sign of Wilson or Rorick. A passin
g
neighbor, one of the few who condescended to speak, had told her there was a rumo
r
that Art Beal and Milt Blue, the outlaws, were in the vicinity, that Blue had bee
n
seen riding near Joe Billy.

Leosa said this last with averted eyes. She was remembering that flashing draw, an
d
the fact that Rock had come out of the Dead Hills. Milt Blue was a known killer
,
and a deadly man with a gun. She had never seen him nor heard a description, bu
t
she was afraid now. Afraid for Rock. Was he ... could he be Milt Blue?

Yet if the rumors meant anything to him, he said nothing. "Art Beal hasn't been aroun
d
much," he commented. "Disappeared a while back. Blue killed another man down to E
l
Paso, only a month ago."

The following day, Rock returned and put in his second round of holes. When he ha
d
them charged, he studied the situation below. If the rock broke right, he would hav
e
a fairly good dam across the canyon. Then another charge, to help things along, an
d
in no time the creek itself would finish the dam by piling up silt, brush and weed
s
to fill up the holes and gaps in the rocks.

Rock carefully lighted his fuses, then descended the rock face to the bottom of th
e
draw. The fuses were long, for he had wanted to get both shots off approximatel
y
together. The climb to the opposite side took him little time, and in a matter o
f
a minute he had spit those fuses and then slid rapidly down the steep declivity t
o
the bottom. He turned and started up the draw, then glanced back.

Light glinted high on the rock, and instinctively, he hurled himself to the right.

A rifle spoke, its distant bark swallowed by the huge, all-engulfing roar as th
e
first set of powder-charged holes let go. It was an enormous sound, magnified an
d
echoed again and again by the walls of the canyon, but Rock did not hear it. He wa
s
going over headfirst into the rocks. He landed facedown, slid a short distance, the
n
his body ceased to slide and he lay sprawle
d
out and unconscious among the greasewood and boulders at one side of the draw.