Fletcher kept his eyes on the saloon up the street. Beside him, Mitch Johnson muttered. “Pendexter’s plenty mad and there are a lot of Kohl’s gang in town. Oh-oh! Here they come.”
The door of the saloon bulged outwards and Sheriff Pendexter plunged into the street, three or four men behind him.
“Here goes!” said Fletcher.
He fired Captain Morgan’s Frontier Model in the general direction of the sheriff, purposely shooting high. The result was almost ludicrous. Sheriff Pendexter howled and dashed back to the saloon.
His cohorts had the same idea and they met at the batwing doors, where they struggled for a moment, all trying to get in at the same time.
“This is too good to miss,” snarled Mitch Johnson. He whipped out his gun and blazed away. But he didn’t shoot high. A yell of anguish came back to them.
Captain Morgan came out of the dance hall. With him was Ethel, wearing a riding skirt and carrying a small valise. “I caught her before she changed to her party dress,” the captain explained. “It’s a good thing.”
Ethel ran to her horse tied at the rail. Fletcher, watching her, liked the way she mounted, without assistance.
Then they were off, the four of them, riding swiftly down the south road out of town. Behind, guns barked in Spring Valley.
“I guess this about finishes you and me around here, Donny,” Mitch Johnson said as they galloped along.
“There are still a few places I haven’t seen,” replied Donny Fletcher.
He lowered his voice. “I think this was a bad job for Captain Morgan. He’s got to stay around here.”
Captain Morgan dropped back. “I started to round up my herd today,” he said. “I’m going to send it up to Kansas.”
“You’ll lose a lot of money doing that,” said Fletcher.
“I know,” replied Morgan, “a lot of the steers aren’t in condition right now, but if I keep them here, I’ll lose more. A herd of two hundred went over a cliff last night.”
Fletcher inhaled sharply. “Stampede?”
Captain Morgan shrugged. “One of my riders was winged.” He was silent a moment. “I guess I’ll have to withdraw that offer of a job. Pendexter will be out in the morning looking for you.”
“What about you?”
“Oh, he won’t touch me. He doesn’t dare — yet.”
Fletcher stared ahead in the gloom where Ethel Morgan was jogging along. “Kohl’s determined to get your ranch, too.”
“The man’s gone mad these last few years. He wants to have the biggest ranch in the state. Well, I bought my land when it was cheap and it’s all paid for. He can’t grab it. In another two or three weeks my steers will all be gone. Ozzie will blow up in two or three years, and then I’ll come back.”
When they neared a cluster of shadowy buildings, dotted by a few lights, Mitch Johnson and Donny Fletcher turned off. “Good-bye, Mr. Morgan,” Fletcher said. Ethel Morgan turned her horse back. “Good-bye, Mr. Fletcher.”
“Good-bye, Miss Morgan.” And then they were gone.
“I kinda hate to leave this valley,” said Mitch Johnson. “I like it around here.”
“It’s good country,” said Fletcher, “better than a lot I’ve seen.”
“If we had ten or twelve of the boys to help us, you wouldn’t catch me leaving. I’d like Frank and Jess, Bill Gregg, Arch Clements, and the Youngers. That’d be plenty, with you and me.”
“Say,” began Fletcher, an idea leaping into his mind. “Doesn’t this remind you of the old days when there was a lot more on the other side than we had? Hell, there’s only one ranch and there ought to be a few on the other side we could count on.”
Mitch Johnson yelped. “Why not? The old guerrilla stuff. All Kohl has got is forty or fifty men. We can ride in on them when they’re scattered.”
“It’s an idea,” said Donny Fletcher. “There’s a lot of rough country over here to the west, and I don’t think they’d care much about running us down there. I think the idea is worth trying.”
“But what’ll you get out of it, Donny?”
Fletcher grunted. “Perhaps nothing, maybe a chunk of lead. What’s the difference? I haven’t got anything else to do or any place to go. I may as well be here.”
“Look,” said Mitch Johnson, “I know all these two-bit ranchers. We’ll ride around and see them. Maybe we can get a few of them to come along. Some’ll be scared because of big Ozzie, but at least they won’t be against us.”
They rode to Mitch Johnson’s little shack, got blankets and a few supplies, the former guerrilla had in his cabin. Then they rode three miles out onto the prairie, staked their horses and rolled up in their blankets.
In the morning, while Johnson was frying bacon, Fletcher talked to him. “I don’t know how this is going to work, Mitch. We’re on the wrong side down here, but Kohl’s got the law on his side, and the law’s crooked.”
“I figure it’s the only thing we can do.”
“It’s the only way we could do it in Missouri. We got away with it for four years.”
After the meager breakfast, they saddled their horses and rode to the adobe ranchhouse of a man named Stanley. They found him in front of a broken-down corral, mending a saddle.
“Hi, Stanley!” Mitch Johnson greeted him. “Shake hands with Donny Fletcher.”
Stanley looked quickly about before he held out a grimy hand. “I’ve heard about you, Mr. Fletcher,” he said. “You had some trouble with the sheriff last night, didn’t you?”
“I’ll probably have more trouble with him, and with Ozzie Kohl, too.”
Stanley’s eyes widened. “I don’t get you, stranger.”
“He means we’re going to fight Kohl,” said Mitch Johnson. “Some of the folks around here figure on cuttin’ Ozzie’s horns.”
Stanley stared in astonishment at first Donny Fletcher then Mitch Johnson. Finally he backed away and mumbled, “Got a lot of work.”
“Don’t be a fool, Stanley!” exclaimed Mitch Johnson. “You know how I stand around here. You know damn well I ain’t a spy for Ozzie Kohl.”
“I’m a married man,” said Stanley. “I don’t want any trouble.”
“I can understand your situation, Stanley,” said Fletcher. “All we ask is that you don’t fight against us.”
They were riding off when Stanley suddenly called after them, “Good luck!”
Mitch Johnson said disgusted, “Looks like some of these people don’t want saving.”
At the next ranchhouse, it was different, however. They found two strapping brothers, Bill and Dave Barry. They were exceedingly receptive to Donny Fletcher’s plan. “We got less than a hundred steers,” said Dave Barry. “A month ago we had five hundred. We got nothin’ to lose, so we’ll go with you.”
Early in the afternoon, they added a fifth recruit, Bob Cragg. Toward evening, they rode back to Mitch Johnson’s place and found his cabin a heap of smouldering ruins. Mitch Johnson cursed furiously. “Pendexter did this,” he said. “I’m going to save him for myself!”
“Look,” said Fletcher, “they don’t know we’re still around here, and if they do, they certainly wouldn’t expect us to ride into Spring Valley.”
“Let’s go!” cried Mitch Johnson eagerly.
An hour later, just as it was getting dark, they rode down upon the little cowtown of Spring Valley. There were only a few men on the streets, and they seemed to pay no attention to the five riders — not until they stopped in front of the little courthouse and dismounted. Then there was a sudden activity up the street.
According to instructions, the Barry brothers dashed into the courthouse. A moment later, Judge Hite came dashing outside. Mitch Johnson yelled, and sent a bullet at the Judge’s feet. And as the justice dashed down the street, sent a couple more bullets after him to speed him along.