Shoe-Bar Stratton

by Joseph Bushnell Ames

  CHAPTER VI

  THE BLOOD-STAINED SADDLE

  "Hello, kid!" said Stratton quietly. "You awake? What's up, anyhow?"

  There was a rustle in the adjoining bunk, the thud of bare feet on thefloor, and Jessup's face loomed, wedge-shaped and oddly white, through theshadows.

  "They're gone," he repeated, with a curious, nervous hesitancy of manner.

  "I know. You said that before. What the devil are they doing out this timeof night?"

  In drawing his weapon to him, Buck's eyes had fallen on his wrist-watch,the radiolite hands of which indicated twenty minutes after twelve. Heawaited Jessup's reply with interest, and it struck him as unnaturallylong in coming.

  "I don't rightly know," the youngster said at length. "I s'pose they musthave gone out after--the rustlers."

  Buck straightened abruptly. "What!" he exclaimed. "You mean to say there'sbeen rustling on the Shoe-Bar?"

  Again Jessup hesitated, but more briefly. "I don't know why I shouldn'ttell yuh. Everybody's wise to it, or suspects somethin'. They've got awaywith quite a bunch--mostly from the pastures around Las Vegas, over nearthe hills. Tex says they're greasers, but I think--" He broke off to add amoment later in a troubled tone, "I wish to thunder he hadn't gone an'left Rick out there all alone."

  Stratton remembered Las Vegas as the name of a camp down at thesouthwesterly extremity of the ranch. It consisted of a one-room adobeshack, which was occupied at certain seasons of the year by one or twopunchers, who from there could more easily look after the near-by cattle,or ride fence, than by going back and forth every day from the ranchheadquarters.

  "Who's Rick?" he asked briefly.

  "Rick Bemis. He--he's one dandy fellow. We've worked together over twoyears."

  "H'm. How long's this rustling been going on?"

  "Three or four months."

  "Lost many head, have they?"

  "Quite a bunch, I'd say, but I don't know. They never tell me or Rickanythin'."

  Bud's tone was bitter, and Stratton noticed it in spite of hispreoccupation. Rustling! That would account for several of the things thathad puzzled him. Rustling was possible, too, with the border-linecomparatively near, and that stretch of rough, hilly country which touchedthe lower extremity of the ranch. But for the stealing to go on for threeor four months, without something drastic being done to stop it, seemedpeculiar, to say the least.

  "What's been done about it?" Buck asked briefly.

  "Oh, they've gone out at night a few times, but they never caught anybodythat I heard. Seems like the thieves were too slick, or else--"

  He paused; Buck regarded him curiously through the faintly luminousshadows.

  "Well?" he prodded

  Bud moved uneasily. "It ain't anythin' special," he returned evasively."All this time they never left anybody down to Las Vegas till Rick wassent day before yesterday. I up an' told Tex straight out there'd oughtabe another fellow with him, but all he done was to bawl me out an' tell meto mind my own business. It ain't safe, an' now they've gone out--"

  Again he broke off, his voice a trifle husky with emotion. He wasevidently growing more and more worked up and alarmed for the safety ofhis friend. It was plain, too, that the recent departure of the punchersfor the scene of action, instead of reassuring Bud, had greatly increasedhis anxiety. Buck decided that the situation wasn't as simple as itlooked, and promptly determined on a little action.

  "Would it ease your mind any if we saddled up an' followed the bunch?" heasked.

  Jessup drew a quick breath and half rose from the bunk. "By cripes, yes!"he exclaimed. "Yuh mean you'd--"

  "Sure," said Stratton, reaching for his boots. "Why not? If there's goingto be any excitement I'd like to be on hand. Pile into your clothes, kid,and let's go."

  Jessup began to dress rapidly. "I don't s'pose Tex'll be awful pleased,"he murmured, dragging on his shirt.

  "I don't see he'll have any kick coming," returned Buck easily. "If he'slaying for rustlers, seems like he'd ought to have routed out the two ofus in the beginning to have as big a crowd as possible. You never knowwhat you're up against with those slippery cusses."

  Bud made no further comment, and a few minutes later they left thebunk-house and went up to the corral. The bright moonlight illuminedeverything clearly and made it easy to rope and saddle two of the threehorses remaining in the enclosure. Then, swinging into the saddle, theyrode down the slope, splashed through the creek, and entering the furtherpasture by a gate, headed south at a brisk lope.

  The land comprising the Shoe-Bar ranch was a roughly rectangular strip,much longer than it was wide, which skirted the foothills of the EscalanteMountains. As the crow flies it was roughly seven miles from theranch-house to Las Vegas camp, and for the better part of that distancethere was little conversation between the two riders. Buck would haveliked to question his companion about a number of things that puzzled him,but having sized up Jessup and come to the conclusion that the youngsterwas the sort whose confidence must be given uninvited or not at all, heheld his peace. Apparently Bud had not yet made up his mind whether toclass Stratton as an enemy or a friend, and Buck felt he could not dobetter than endeavor unobtrusively to impress the latter fact upon him.That done, he was sure the boy would open up freely.

  The wisdom of this policy became evident sooner than he expected. Fromtime to time as they rode, Stratton commented casually, as a new handwould be likely to do, on some feature or other connected with the ranchor their fellow-punchers. To these remarks Jessup replied readily enough,but in a preoccupied manner, until all at once, moved either by somethingBuck had said, or possibly by a mind burdened to the point whereself-restraint was no longer possible, he burst into sudden surprisingspeech.

  "That wasn't no foolin' with that iron this afternoon. If yuh hadn't comealong jest then they'd of branded me on the back."

  Astonished, Buck glanced at him sharply. They had traveled more thantwo-thirds of the distance to Las Vegas camp, and he had quite given uphope of Jessup's opening up during the ride.

  "Oh, say!" he protested. "Are you trying to throw a load into me? Whywould they want to do that?"

  Jessup gave a short brittle laugh.

  "They want me to quit," he retorted curtly.

  "Quit?" repeated Stratton, his eyes widening. "But--"

  "Tex don't want me here," broke in the youngster. "For the last threemonths he's tried all kinds of ways to make me an' Rick take our time; butit won't work." His lips pressed together firmly. "I promised Miss--"

  His words clipped off abruptly, as a single shot, sharp and distinct,shattered the still serenity of the night. It came from the south, fromthe direction of Las Vegas. Buck flung up his head and pulledinstinctively on the reins. Jessup caught his breath with an odd,whistling intake.

  "There!" he gasped unevenly.

  For a moment or two they sat motionless, listening intently, Buck's face acurious mixture of alertness and surprise. Up to this moment he had takenthe whole business rather casually, with small expectation that anythingwould come of it, but the sound of that shot changed everything. Somethingwas happening, then, after all--something sinister, perhaps, and certainlynot far away. His eyes narrowed, and when no other sound followed thatsingle report, he loosed his reins and urged the roan to a gallop.

  For perhaps half a mile the two plunged forward amidst a silence that wasbroken only by the dull thudding of their horses' hoofs and their ownrapid breathing. Then all at once Buck jerked his roan to a standstill.

  "Some one's coming," he warned briefly.

  Straight ahead of them the moonlight lay across the flat, rolling prairiealmost like a pathway of molten silver. On either side of the brilliantstretch the light merged gradually and imperceptibly into shadows--shadowswhich yet held a curious, half-luminous quality, giving a sense ofshifting horizons and lending a touch of mystery to the vague distanceswhich seemed to be revealed.

  From somewhere in that illusive shadow land came the faint beat of ahorse's hoofs, growi
ng steadily louder. Eyes narrowed to mere slits,Stratton stared ahead intently until of a sudden his gaze focused on afaintly visible moving shape.

  He straightened, his right hand falling to the butt of his Colt. Butpresently his grip relaxed and he reached out slowly for his rope.

  "There's no one on him," he murmured in surprise.

  Without turning his head, Jessup made an odd, throaty sound ofacquiescence.

  "He's saddled, though," he muttered a moment later, and also began takingdown his rope.

  Straight toward them along that moonlit pathway came the flying horse,head down, stirrups of the empty saddle flapping. Buck held his ropeready, and when the animal was about a hundred feet away he spurredsuddenly to the right, whirling the widening loop above his head. As itfell accurately about the horse's neck the animal stopped short with themechanical abruptness of the well-trained range mount and stood still,panting.

  Slipping to the ground, Bud ran toward him, with Stratton close behind.The strange cayuse, a sorrel of medium size, was covered with foam andlather, and as Jessup came close to him he rolled his eyes in a frightenedmanner.

  "It's Rick's saddle," said Bud in an agitated tone, after he had made ahasty examination. "I'd know it anywhere from--that--cut--in--"

  His voice trailed off into silence and he gazed with wide-eyed, growinghorror at the hand that had rested on the saddle-skirt. It was stainedbright crimson, and Buck, staring over his shoulder, noticed that theleather surface glistened darkly ominous in the bright moonlight.

  Slowly the boy turned his head and looked at Stratton. His face waslint-white, and the pupils of his eyes were curiously dilated.

  "It's Rick's saddle," he repeated dully, and shuddered as he stared againat his blood-stained hand.

  Buck's own fingers caught the youngster's shoulder in a reassuring grip,and his lips parted. But before he had time to speak a sudden volley ofshots rang out ahead of them, so crisp and distinct and clear thatinstinctively he stiffened, his ears attuned for the familiar, vibrant humof flying bullets.