Shoe-Bar Stratton

by Joseph Bushnell Ames

  CHAPTER XV

  "BLACKLEG"

  More than once during the next ten minutes Buck cursed himself inwardlyfor not having brought along the small but powerful pair of field-glassesthat were tucked away in his bag. He had picked them up at the DivisionalHeadquarters only a week or two before the Belleau Woods business, and howthey had stuck to him until his arrival in America remained one of theminor mysteries of that vanished year. He would have given anything forthem now, for though he could make out fairly well the movements of thetwo men, he was too far away to distinguish their faces.

  Watching closely, he saw that the first fellow was taking down a shortsection of the fence, either by cutting or by pulling out the staples.When this lay flat he remounted and, joining his companion, the twoproceeded to drive through the gap nothing more significant than asolitary steer.

  It was a yearling, Buck could easily see even at that distance, and healmost laughed aloud at the sudden let-down of suspense. By this time alittle individual trick of carriage made him suspect that the foremostpuncher was Butch Siegrist, and when the men came into clearer view, herecognized scarcely without question the big sorrel with white trimmingson which Kreeger had ridden off that morning. The two men had found aShoe-Bar stray; that was all. And yet, on second thought, how did theycome to be here when they were supposed to be working at the very oppositeextremity of the ranch?

  It was this query which made Stratton refrain from showing himself. Withconsiderable annoyance, for time was passing, he waited where he was untilthe two men had gone back through the gap in the fence and restored thewires. He watched them turn northward and ride rapidly across the sandywaste until at length their diminishing figures disappeared into thedistance. Even then it was ten or fifteen minutes before he emerged fromhis seclusion, and when he finally did he headed straight for the youngsteer, who had been the cause of so much exertion on the part of the twomen who ordinarily shirked work whenever they could.

  Under the lash of a rope, the animal had lumbered across the pasture forseveral hundred yards, where he paused languidly to crunch somebunch-grass. There was an air of lassitude and weakness about the creaturewhich made Buck, as he approached, eye it with anxious intentness. A dozenfeet or so away he jerked his horse to a standstill and caught his breathwith an odd whistling sound.

  "Great Godfrey!" he breathed.

  Bending slightly forward in the saddle, he stared at the creature'sbadly-swollen off hind leg, but there was no need whatever for a prolongedinspection. Having been through one blackleg epidemic back in Texas, heknew the signs only too well.

  "That's it, sure enough," he muttered, straightening up.

  His gaze swept across the prairie to where, half a mile away, a bunch ofShoe-Bar cattle grazed peacefully. If this sick beast should get amongstthem, the yearlings at least, to whom the disease is fatal, would be dyinglike flies in twenty-four hours. Buck glanced back at the steer again, andas he noted the T-T brand, his face hardened and he began taking down hisrope.

  "The hellions!" he grated, an angry flush darkening his tan. "They oughtto be strung up."

  The animal started to move away, and Buck lost no time in roping him. Thenhe turned his horse and urged him toward the fence, dragging the reluctantbrute behind. Fortunately he had his pliers in the saddle-pocket, and,taking down the wires, he forced the creature through and headed for adeep gully the mouth of which lay a few hundred yards to the left.Penetrating into this as far as he was able, he took out his Colt anddeliberately shot the steer through the head. And if Kreeger or Siegristhad been present at that moment, he was furious enough to treat either ofthem in the same way without a particle of compunction.

  "Hanging would be too good for them, the dirty beasts!" he grated.

  The thing had been so fiendishly cold-blooded and calculating that it madehis blood boil, for it was perfectly evident now to Buck that he hadthwarted a deliberate plot to introduce the blackleg scourge among theShoe-Bar cattle. Instead of riding fence, the two punchers must have madetheir roundabout way immediately to the stricken T-T ranch, secured insome manner an infected yearling and brought it back through the twistingmountain trail Bud had spoken of a few days before.

  Lynch's was the directing spirit, of course; for none of the others woulddare act save under his orders. But what was his object? What could hepossibly hope to gain by such a thing? Buck could understand a manallowing rustlers to loot a ranch, if the same individual were in withthem secretly and shared the plunder. But there was no profit in this foranyone--only an infinite amount of trouble and worry and extra work forthem all, to say nothing of great financial loss to--Mary Thorne.

  When Stratton had secured his rope and rode back to the Shoe-Bar pasture,his face was thoughtful. He was thinking of those excellent offers for theoutfit Miss Thorne had lately spoken of, which Lynch was so anxious forher to accept. Could the foreman's plotting be for the purpose of forcingher to sell? From something she had let fall, Buck guessed that she wasmore or less dependent on the income from the ranch, and if this failedshe might no longer be able to hold the property.

  But even supposing this was true, it all still failed to make sense. Theland itself was good enough, as Stratton knew from his former carefulinspections, but it would be of little use for any purpose save ranching;and since the value of a cattle-ranch consists largely in the cattlethemselves, it followed logically that by reducing the number, by theft,by disease, or any other means, the value would be very much less to aprospective purchaser.

  Unable to make head or tail of the problem, Buck finally gave it up forthe time being. He put back the fence with care and then headed straightfor the ranch. There was no time left for the desired inspection of thenorth pasture. To undertake it now would mean a much longer delay than hecould plausibly explain, and he was particularly anxious to avoid the needof any explanation which might arouse suspicion that the criminal actionof the two men had been overseen.

  "If they guessed, they'd be likely to try it again," he thought, "andanother time they might succeed."

  Stratton managed his route so that for the last two miles it took exactlythe course he would have followed in returning directly from Las Vegascamp. His plan was further favored by the discovery that none of the mensave Bud were anywhere about the ranch-house.

  "Gone off to ride fence along with Flint an' Butch," Jessup informed him,when Buck located him in the wagon-shed. "Wonder why he's so awfulinterested in fences all of a sudden," he went on thoughtfully. "They'vebeen let go all over the ranch till they're plumb fallin' to pieces."

  "You've got me," shrugged Stratton. He had been cogitating whether or notto confide in Bud, and finally decided in the negative. It would do noparticular good, and the youngster might impulsively let out something tothe others. "Why didn't they take you along, too?"

  "I sure wish they had," Bud answered shortly. "Then I wouldn't of had tobe lookin' at that all afternoon."

  He straightened from the wagon-body he was tinkering and waved a wrenchtoward the window behind Stratton. Turning quickly, the latter saw that itlooked out on the rear of the ranch-house, where there were a few stuntedtrees and a not altogether successful attempt at a small flower-garden.On a rough, rustic bench under one of the trees sat young Manning and MaryThorne, in earnest conversation.

  "Sickening, ain't it?" commented Bud, taking encouragement from Stratton'sinvoluntary frown. "I been expectin' 'em to hold hands any minute."

  Buck laughed, mainly because he was annoyed with himself for feeling anyemotion whatever. "You don't seem to like Mr. Alfred Manning," heremarked.

  "Who would?" snorted Jessup. "He sure gets my goat, with them dudeclothes, an' that misplaced piece of eyebrow on his lip, an' his superiorairs. I wouldn't of thought Miss Mary was the kind to--"

  "Where's--er--Miss Manning?" broke in Buck, reluctant to continue thediscussion.

  "Gone in with Mrs. Archer," Bud explained, "They was both out there awhile ago, but I reckon they got tired hangin' around."


  Stratton turned his back on the dingy window and fell to work on the wagonwith Bud.

  "Seen Bemis lately?" he asked presently, realizing of a sudden that he hadnot visited the invalid for several days.

  Bud sniffed. "Sure. I was in there this mornin'. He's outa bed nowmoochin' around the room an' countin' the hours till he can back ahorse."

  "Still got that notion the outfit isn't safe?"

  "I'll tell the world! He says life's too short to take any more chancesof bein' bumped off. Tried to make me believe my turn'll come next."

  Stratton shrugged his shoulders. "I reckon there isn't much chance ofthat. They're not keen to get the sheriff down on their trail. Well, if hefeels like that he wouldn't be much use here even if we could persuade himto stick."

  About half-past five they decided to call it a day and went down to thebunk-house, through the open door of which Buck presently observed thearrival of the remainder of the outfit. They came from the east, andKreeger and Siegrist were with them. As Buck expected, the former rode thesorrel with distinctive white markings, while the latter bestrode anondescript bay. The second of the two riders he had watched thatafternoon had been mounted on just such a bay, and if there had been alingering touch of doubt in Stratton's mind as to the identity of the twocriminals, it remained no longer.