Shoe-Bar Stratton

by Joseph Bushnell Ames

  CHAPTER II

  CROOKED WORK

  Stratton suddenly turned his back and stared blankly through the opendoor. With the same unconscious instinct which had moved him to concealhis face from the old man, he fumbled in one pocket and drew forth papersand tobacco sack. It spoke well for his self-control that his fingers werealmost steady as he deliberately fashioned a cigarette and thrust itbetween his lips. When he had lighted it and inhaled a puff or two, heturned slowly to Pop Daggett again.

  "You sure know how to shoot a surprise into a fellow, old-timer," hedrawled. "A woman rancher, eh? That's going some around this country, I'llsay. How long has she--er--owned the Shoe-Bar?"

  "Only since her pa died about four months back." Pop Daggett assumed aneasier pose; his tone had softened to one of garrulous satisfaction athaving a new listener to a tale he had worn threadbare. "It's consid'ableof a story, but if yuh ain't pressed for time--"

  "Go to it," invited Buck, leaning back against the counter. "I've got allthe time there is."

  Daggett's small, faded blue eyes regarded him curiously.

  "Did yuh ever meet up with this here Stratton?" he asked abruptly.

  "I--a--know what he looks like."

  "It's more'n I do," grumbled Pop regretfully. "The only two times he washere I was laid up with a mean attack of rheumatiz, an' never sot eyes onhim. Still an' all, there ain't hardly anybody else around Paloma thatmore 'n glimpsed him passin' through. He bought the outfit in a terriblehurry, an' I thinks to m'self at the time he must be awful trustin', orelse a mighty right smart jedge uh land an' cattle. He couldn't of hardlyrid over it even once real thorough before he plunks down his money, getshim a proper title, an' hikes off to the war, leavin' Joe Bloss incharge."

  He paused, fished in his pocket, and, producing a plug, carefully bit offone corner. Stratton watched him impatiently, a faint flush staining hisclear, curiously white skin.

  "Well?" he prodded presently. "What happened then? From what I know ofJoe, I'll say he made good all right."

  "Sure he did." Pop spoke with emphasis, though somewhat thickly. "Thereain't nobody can tell Joe Bloss much about cattle. He whirled in rightcapable and got things runnin' good. For a while he was so danged busyhe'd hardly ever get to town, but come winter the work eased up an' I usedto see him right frequent. He'd set there alongside the stove evenings an'tell me what he was doin', or how he'd jest had a letter from Stratton,who was by now in France, an' all the rest of it. Wal, to make a longstory short, a year last month the letters stopped comin'. Joe begun toget worried, but I told him likely Stratton was too busy fightin' towrite, or he might even of got wounded. Yuh could have knocked me downwith a wisp uh bunch-grass when one uh the boys come in one night with aPhoenix paper, an' showed me Stratton's name on a list uh killed ormissin'!"

  "When was that?" asked Buck briefly, seeing that Daggett evidentlyexpected some comment. If only the man would get on!

  "'Round the middle of September. Joe was jest naturally shot to pieces,him knowin' young Stratton from a kid an' likin' him fine, besides bein'consid'able worried about what was goin' to happen to the ranch an' him.Still an' all, there wasn't nothin' he could do but go on holdin' down hisjob, which he done until the big bust along the end of October."

  He paused again expectantly. Buck ground the butt of his cigarette underone heel and reached for the makings. He had an almost irresistible desireto take the garrulous old man by the shoulders and shake him till histeeth rattled.

  "It was this here Thorne from Chicago," resumed Daggett, a trifledisappointed. Usually at this point of the story, his listener broke inwith exclamation or interested question. "He showed up one morning withthe sheriff an' claimed the ranch was his. Said Stratton had sold it tohim an' produced the deed, signed, sealed, an' witnessed all right an'proper."

  Match in one hand and cigarette in the other, Buck stared at him, thepicture of arrested motion. For a moment or two his brain whirled. Couldhe possibly have done such a thing and not remember? With a ghastlysinking of his heart he realized that anything might have been possibleduring that hateful vanished year. Mechanically he lit his cigarette andof a sudden he grew calmer. According to the hospital records he had notleft France until well into November of the preceding year. Tossing thematch into the stove, he met Pop Daggett's glance.

  "How could that be?" he asked briefly. "Didn't you say this Stratton wasin France for months before he was killed?"

  Pop nodded hearty agreement. "That's jest what I said, an' so did Bloss.But according to Thorne this here transfer was made a couple uh weeksbefore Stratton went over to France."

  "But that's impossible!" exclaimed Buck hotly. "How could he have----"

  He ceased abruptly and bit his lip. Daggett chuckled.

  "Gettin' kinda interested, ain't yuh?" he remarked in a satisfied tone. "Ithought you would 'fore I was done. I don't say as it's impossible, but itshore looked queer to me. As Joe says, why would he go an' sell the outfitjest after buyin' it without a word to him. Not only that but he kept onwritin' about how Joe was to do this an' that an' the other thing like hewas mighty interested in havin' it run good. Joe, he even got suspicionsuh somethin' crooked an' hired a lawyer to look into it, Stratton nothavin' any folks. But that's all the good it done him. He couldn't pick noflaw in it at all. Seems Stratton was in Chicago on one of these herefurloughs jest before he took ship. One uh the witnesses had gone to war,but they hunted out the other one an' he swore he'd seen the deedsigned."

  "Did this Thorne-- What did you say his name was?"

  "I don't recolleck sayin', but it was Andrew J."

  Buck's lids narrowed; a curious gleam flashed for an instant in his grayeyes and was gone.

  "Well, did Thorne explain why he let it go so long before making hisclaim?"

  "Oh, shore! He was right there when it come to explainin'. Seems he hadsome important war business on his hands an' wanted to get shed uh thatbefore he took up ranchin'. Knowed it was in good hands, 'count uh Blossbein' on the job, an' Stratton havin' promised to write frequent an' keepJoe toein' the mark. Stratton, it seems, had sold out because he didn'tknow what might happen to him across the water. Oh, Andrew J. was a rightsmooth talker, believe me, but still an' all he didn't make no great hitwith folks around the country even after he settled down on the Shoe-Barand brung his daughter there to live. There weren't no tears shed,neither, when an ornery paint horse throwed him last May an' broke hisneck."

  "What about Bloss?" Stratton asked briefly.

  "Oh, he got his time along with all the other cow-men. There shore was aclean sweep when Thorne whirled in an' took hold. Joe hung around here aweek or two an' then drifted down to Phoenix. Last I heard he was goin' totry the Flyin'-V's, but that was six months or more ago."

  Buck's shoulders straightened and his chin went up with a sudden touch ofswift decision.

  "Got a horse I can hire?" he asked abruptly.

  Pop hesitated, his shrewd gaze traveling swiftly over Stratton's straight,tall figure to rest reflectively on the lean, square-jawed, level-eyedyoung face.

  "I dunno but I have," he answered slowly. "Uh course I don't know yorename even, an' a man's got to be careful how he--"

  "Oh, that'll be all right," interrupted Stratton, his white teeth showingbriefly in a smile. "I'll leave you a deposit. My name's Bob Green, thoughfolks mostly call me Buck. I've got a notion to ride over to the Shoe-Barand see if they know anything about--Joe."

  "'T ain't likely they will," shrugged Daggett. "Still, it won't do no harmto try. Yuh can't ride in them things, though," he added, surveyingStratton's well-cut suit of gray.

  "I don't specially want to, but they're all I've got," smiled Buck. "WhenI quit ranching to show 'em how to run the war, I left my outfit behind,and I haven't been back yet to get it."

  "Cow-man eh?" Pop nodded approvingly. "I thought so; yuh got the look,someway. Wal, yore welcome to some duds I bought off 'n Dick Sanders abouta month ago. He quit the Rockin'-R to go railroadin' or somethin
', an'sold his outfit, saddle an' all. I reckon they'll suit."

  Stepping behind the counter, he poked around amongst a mass ofmiscellaneous merchandise and finally drew forth a pair of much-wornleather chaps, high-heeled boots almost new, and a cartridge-belt fromwhich dangled an empty holster.

  "There yuh are," he said triumphantly, spreading them out on the counter."Gun's the only thing missin'. He kep' that, but likely yuh got one ofyore own. Saddle's hangin' out in the stable."

  Without delay Stratton took off his coat and vest and sat down on an emptybox to try the boots, which proved a trifle large but still wearable. Healready had on a dark flannel shirt and a new Stetson, which he had boughtin New York; and when he pulled on the chaps and buckled thecartridge-belt around his slim waist Pop Daggett surveyed him withdistinct approval.

  "All yuh need is a good coat uh tan to look like the genuine article," heremarked. "How come yuh to be so white?"

  "Haven't been out of the hospital long enough to get browned up." Buckopened his bag and, fumbling for a moment, produced a forty-five armyautomatic. "This don't go very well with the outfit," he shrugged. "Happento have a regular six-gun around the place you'll sell me?"

  Pop had, this being part of his stock in trade. Buck looked the lot overcarefully, finally picking out a thirty-eight Colt with a good heft. Whenhe had paid for this and a supply of ammunition, Pop led the way out to ashed back of the store and pointed out a Fraser saddle, worn but inexcellent condition, hanging from a hook.

  "It's a wonder to me any cow-man is ever fool enough to sell his saddle,"commented Stratton as he took it down. "They never get much for 'em, andnew ones are so darn ornery to break in."

  "Yuh said it," agreed Daggett. "I'd ruther buy one second-hand than newany day. There's the bridle. Yuh take that roan in the near stall. Heain't much to look at, but he'll travel all day."

  Fifteen minutes later the roan, saddled and bridled, pawed the dust besidethe hitching rack in front of the store, while Buck Stratton made a smallbundle of his coat, vest, and a few necessaries from his bag and fastenedit behind the saddle. The remainder of his belongings had been left withPop Daggett, who lounged in the doorway fingering a roll of bills in histrousers pocket and watching his new acquaintance with smilingamiability.

  "Well, I'll be going," said Stratton, tying the last knot securely. "I'llbring your cayuse back to-morrow or the day after at the latest."

  Pop looked surprised. "The day after?" he repeated. "What's goin' to keepyuh that long?"

  "Will you be needing the horse sooner?"

  "No, I dunno's I will. But seems like yuh ought to be back by noonto-morrow. It ain't more 'n eighteen miles." He straightened abruptly andhis blue eyes widened. "Say, young feller! Yuh ain't thinkin' of gettin ajob out there, are yuh?"

  Stratton hesitated for an instant. "Well, I don't know," he shruggedpresently. "I've got to get to work right soon at something."

  Daggett took a swift step or two across the sagging porch, his face grownoddly serious. "Wal, I wouldn't try the Shoe-Bar, nohow. There's theRockin'-R. They're short a man or two. Yuh go see Jim Tenny an' tellhim--"

  "What's the matter with the Shoe-Bar?" persisted Buck.

  Pop's glance avoided Stratton's. "Yuh--wouldn't like it," he mumbled,glancing down the trail. "It--it ain't like it was in Joe's time. Thatthere Tex Lynch--he--he don't get on with the boys."

  "Who's he? The foreman?"

  "Yeah. Beauty Lynch, some calls him 'count uh his looks. I ain't denyin'he's han'some, with them black eyes an' red cheeks uh his, but somethin'queer--Like I said, there ain't nobody stays long at the Shoe-Bar. Yuhtake my advice, Buck, an' try the Rockin'-R. They's a nice bunch there."

  Buck swung himself easily into the saddle; "I'll think about it," hesmiled, gathering up the reins. "Well, so-long; see you in a day or so,anyway. Thanks for helping me out, old-timer."

  He loosened the reins, and the roan took the trail at a canter. Wellbeyond the last adobe house, Stratton glanced back to see old Pop Daggettstill standing on the store porch and staring after him. Buck flung upone arm in a careless gesture of farewell; then a gentle downward slope inthe prairie carried him out of sight of the little settlement.

  "Acts to me like he was holding back something," he thought as he rodebriskly on through the wide, rolling solitudes. "Now, I wonder what sortof a guy is this Tex Lynch, and what's going on at the Shoe-Bar that anold he-gossip like Pop Daggett is afraid to talk about?"