The Trail Horde

by Charles Alden Seltzer

  CHAPTER XXVIII

  THE TRAIL HORDE

  From the front windows of the Wolf Saloon, Slade, the violent-manneredrider whom Blondy Antrim had left in charge of his men the night he hadridden away from the desert camp fire to hold a conference with Lawlernear the trail herd, had watched Sheriff Moreton lope his horse into thesoft southern twilight.

  Slade was a young man, tall, swarthy, reckless-eyed. He was keen,cynical, and jealous of the power and authority of Antrim. He grinned atWarden, who was standing near, also watching Moreton.

  The grin was crooked, expressing reluctance.

  "Well the Law is hittin' the breeze, an' I reckon, accordin' to orders,we'll be hittin' it, too."

  He left Warden and walked to the bar, where he spoke lowly to severalmen. Then he walked into a rear room, where several other men wereplaying cards, and repeated his words. The men ceased playing andfollowed him to the front door.

  Half an hour later, when Sheriff Moreton had vanished into the growingdusk, Slade and the men to whom he had spoken, went outside, clamberedupon their horses and rode slowly in the direction taken by the sheriff.

  There were a score of them--rough-looking characters with eyes asreckless as those of the man who led them; and they were silent as theyrode, as though on some stealthy mission.

  They did not follow Moreton far; they veered eastward slightly afterthey had traveled several miles, and finally came to a trail thatparalleled a small river, which they rode for a time.

  Darkness came while they rode, and the twinkling points of stars grewbrighter in the cold blue of the sky--millions of them appeared,distant, winking, shedding a luminous haze over the land.

  After a time the riders reached a level near the river, and some lowbuildings loomed out of the haze. A light glowed through a window in oneof the buildings--the largest--and toward this the men rode, droppingfrom their horses at the door and filing silently inside.

  In a big room, from which came the light the riders had seen, were manyother men.

  Antrim, his bronzed face almost the hue of copper in the glare from thelamp that stood on a table, was sitting in a chair near the door. Someof the men inside were on their feet, expectant, suspicious. Theygrinned when they recognized the newcomers, calling variously to them ingreeting.

  Antrim got to his feet when he saw Slade at the door, looking at himexpectantly. When Slade grinned, telling Antrim that Moreton had riddensouth, Antrim's eyes glittered with satisfaction.

  "Selden!" he ordered, sharply; "you slope for the Circle L trail an'watch it! When you see Moreton an' Lawler headin' toward town, you fanit here in a hurry!"

  A tall man with two guns sagging at his hips leaped to the door andplunged out. In the silence that followed his departure, they could hearthe thudding of hoofs that marked his going.

  Antrim grinned coldly around at the other men.

  "We'll clean up on Lawler tonight, boys," he said. "We've got to workfast!"

  He stood, boldly outlined in the light, a sinister figure. His cruellips were set tightly, his eyes were agleam. He was a symbol of passion,rampant and unrecking--a wild, violent spirit to whom laws were irksomeshackles.

  He grinned at Slade, mockingly, naked malevolence in his gaze. His voicewas harsh, vibrant.

  "Slade, tonight you're goin' to get what you've been waitin' for--theleadership! Ha, ha!" he laughed as he saw Slade's face work with thebitter rage that instantly seized him. "You thought I didn't know youwanted my place--eh? Bah! I've known it for a year. You're ambitious,eh? Well, listen!

  "Tonight you're leadin' this little party. You're to run off them cattleof Lawler's--three thousand head--which he euchered me out of last fall.You're takin' three thousand head, Slade--not a one less. If you takeless you're through with me. You'll run 'em down through Kinney's canon,clear through to the big basin beyond. At the other end you'll head 'emsouth, to Mexico--where we've been runnin' 'em for three years past.You'll take a receipt for them from a guy named Miguel Lomo, who willbe waitin' for you at Panya--where you knifed that Oiler last summer.Warden arranged that.

  "You'll post a dozen men in Kinney's canon, to drop anyone that follows.There's goin' to be no excuses, or you settle with me--afterward.Understand?"

  Slade's eyes glared with savage triumph and defiance. He grinnedfelinely at the other, and when he spoke there was cold, tauntingcontempt in his voice.

  "I'm doin' it, Antrim! I'm tickled to get the chance. But where are yougoin' to be tonight?"

  Antrim flushed darkly. He laughed. "I'm figurin' to do a man'swork--tonight or tomorrow, Slade. Somethin' that you ain't got nerveenough to do--I'm goin' to face Kane Lawler when he's riled, with a gunin his hand! I'm goin' to down him right here in this room!"

  Slade started, his face paled. He laughed mirthlessly.

  "Well," he said, watching Antrim keenly; "if he's as fast as he used tobe--before gettin' to be a big guy in this neck of the woods tamedhim--you'll have to be lightnin'--an' then some!"

  He wheeled, and went out of the door, where he stood, looking toward theplains on the other side of the river, grinning derisively.

  * * * * *

  Two hours later Selden clattered to the door of the cabin anddismounted, conveying the news that Moreton and Lawler were ridingnorth, toward Willets. And within a few minutes after the appearance ofSelden, Slade and forty-eight of Antrim's men rode swiftly, scurryinginto the star haze, straight into the south wind that swept out of theWolf River valley.

  The men rode close together for more than an hour, until they reachedthe crest of the big valley, where they halted, closely massed, andscanned the semi-gloom in front of them.

  The big valley was silent, somber. There was no movement in it. Lookingdown from the crest the Antrim men could see the dim outlines of theCircle L buildings; and they had no trouble in distinguishing theranchhouse, out of which through a window, a feeble glimmer of lightcame. The other buildings were dark.

  One of the men laughed raucously, as he pointed out the light. "That'smebbe Lawler's old woman, settin' up, wonderin' what her boy's beengrabbed by the law for," he sneered. "Well, she'll be wonderin'more--after Blondy gits through with him."

  Slade chuckled, but said nothing. He was hoping that by this time on themorrow Antrim would have discovered that Kane Lawler could "sling" a gunwith the speed and accuracy he had used in the old days.

  Far down in the valley, Slade pointed out the cattle. They werescattered a little, as though perfunctorily guarded, but still massedenough to make the task of rounding them up comparatively simple to thebig group of men in Slade's company.

  "There ain't more'n half a dozen men ridin' night herd down there," saidSlade as he pointed out the forms of several horsemen in the vicinity ofthe herd; "an' likely enough they ain't watchin' a hell of a lot." Heissued some orders, and the group on the crest of the valley split up.Some of them rode west along the edge of the valley, where there was afringe of juniper and post oak to conceal them; others slid down intothe valley directly toward the herd, keeping in the tangled growth thatfeatured the sloping sides of the great hollow. They were adept at thiswork, and they moved like shadows until they reached the wide floor ofthe valley.

  Then, spreading out, fanwise, a number of them swinging far around theherd so that they approached it from the west, they closed in.

  There was no longer any attempt at concealment. A shot from Slade'spistol was the signal for a violent dash that instantly set the big herdin motion. As the attack came from the west the cattle moved eastward,bleating and bellowing with surprise. They moved slowly at first, asthough confused by the suddenness of the rush--milling in bewilderment;detached numbers dashing here and there in wild affright.

  Concerted movement came when the strange horsemen began to flank them.Eastward there was open ground, with no dashing, shooting men to bartheir progress, and eastward they went, a dark mass that moved withexceeding swiftness straight up the valley.

  The few cowboy
s who had been riding night herd made a feeble, astonishedresistance. There were several shots, frenzied cries of rage and pain;and then nothing but the thunderous rumble of hoofs; the shouts of thedriving rustlers; scattered shots and the clashing of horns. A vastdust cloud ballooned above the herd; and five riderless Circle L horsestrotted aimlessly about, snorting with fright.

  The big herd had gone with the suddenness of a cyclone. It went,rumbling up the valley, the dust cloud hovering over it, blotting outits movements. It roared past the Circle L bunkhouses, leaving behind ita number of Circle L cowboys who had been awakened by the thunderousnoise. The Circle L men had plunged outside in various stages ofundress--all bootless, unprepared, amazed, and profane.

  "Stampede!" yelled a hoarse voice.

  "Stampede--hell!" shouted another. "It's rustlers! That damn Antrimbunch!"

  This was Shorty. The lithe giant had rushed out of the bunkhouse as theherd thundered past. He was now running back toward the bunkhouse,trying to tighten the waistband of his trousers with a belt whosebuckleless end persisted in eluding his grasp.

  His words had spurred the other men to frenzied action. There wasconfusion in the bunkhouse where men collided with their fellows as theyplunged about for discarded garments, gun-belts, and boots. But soonthey began to straggle out of the door in twos and threes and singly,racing for the corral and for the lean-to where they kept their saddles.

  Foremost among them was Shorty. His tall figure appeared first at thecorral gates, and his long legs were the first astride a horse. Whilethe others were running hither and yon near the bunkhouse and thecorral, Shorty raced his horse to the ranchhouse, slid off and crossedthe wide porch in two or three leaps.

  He was confronted at the door by Mrs. Lawler, ashen, trembling.

  "Rustlers!" he said, shortly, answering her look of interrogation."Where's the boss?"

  The woman's voice broke. "Sheriff Moreton came after him some hoursago--and took him to Willets--charging him with murdering those two menat the line cabin, last winter. He isn't guilty, of course," declaredthe mother; "but of course he had to go with Moreton."

  Shortly swore silently. "All right, ma'am," he said, aloud; "I reckonwe'll have to handle it without him! Some of the boys of the night herdare hurt, most likely--mebbe worse. If you'd sort of look afterthem--mebbe--" He broke off short when he saw riders rushing from thecorral toward the house. "I'll stop at Joe Hamlin's place an' send Ruthover, to help you. We can't spare any men--there's a horde of themdevils!"

  He was leaping for his horse with the last words, and in an instant hehad joined the other riders who had paused, tentatively, near the edgeof the porch, having seen him. They fled, a dark mass against the dullshadows of the valley, sweeping up the big slope toward the plains.

  Blackburn, the range boss, was leading, with Shorty riding close besidehim. In the dim distance they could see the herd, spreading wide overthe level, running fast in the dust cloud that still followed them.

  The Circle L men had not ridden more than a mile after striking thelevel when Blackburn saw some blots detach themselves from the largerblot--a number of them, like stray wisps of clouds straggling behind astorm.

  "They're droppin' back to pot-shot us," Blackburn said to Shorty. Heyelled at the men behind, warning them, and the group split up,spreading out, though not reducing the breakneck speed at which they hadbeen riding.

  They had not gone far after Blackburn shouted his warning when a puff ofwhite smoke dotted the luminous haze ahead, and a bullet whined close toBlackburn.

  "Rifle!" said Blackburn, grimly.

  There were still three Circle L men at the line camps on the range; fivehad been left behind in the valley when the attack had been made; andonly twenty others, including Blackburn, were left to cope with therustlers.

  Blackburn cast a worried glance at them. He had plunged out of thebunkhouse with the other men in time to catch a glimpse of the outlawsas they went by with the herd, and he had roughly estimated their numberat fifty. The odds were great, and the advantage lay with the pursued,for they could select ambuscades and take terrible toll from the CircleL men.

  Yet Blackburn was determined. He yelled to the others to take advantageof whatever cover they could find; and he saw them slide from theirhorses, one after another, and throw themselves into a shallowdepression that ran erratically north and south for some distance overthe plains. Before they reached the depression, however, there had comemore white puffs of smoke from the space ahead of them, and Blackburnsaw two Circle L men slide from their horses with a finality thatbrought a savage glare into his eyes.

  "Shorty," he said, hoarsely, to the big man at his side--who hadwriggled behind a rock at the crest of the depression and was coldly anddeliberately using the rifle he had taken from the holster on hissaddle; "we've got to have help--them scum outnumber us. You've got thefastest horse an' you're the best rider in the bunch. An' you've got themost sense. Barthman's ranch is the nearest, an' he's got fifteen men.You hit the breeze over there an' tell him what's happened. Tell himwe're whipped if he don't help us. An' tell him to send a rider toCorts, an' Littlefield, an' Sigmund, an' Lester, an' Caldwell. Tell 'emto take that trail leadin' to Kinney's canon--this side. That's wherethey're headin' the cattle to. They'll come a-rushin', for they like theboss.

  "There's forty men in that gang that's hidin' ahead of us, tryin' towipe us out. But if they was a hundred we could keep 'em from makin' anytime, an' if you'll burn the breeze some, you can have Barthman an' theothers at the trail near Kinney's canon before these guys get there!"

  "Hell's fire, Blackburn," protested Shorty; "ain't there somebody elsecan ride a damned horse? I'm aimin' to salivate some of them skunks!"

  "Orders is orders, Shorty," growled Blackburn, coldly. "You're goin',an' you're goin' right this minute--or I'm goin' to bust you in theeye!"

  "Well, if you put it that way," grimly grinned Shorty.

  He crawled out of the depression, threw himself upon his horse and racedsoutheastward, yelling, and waving his hat defiantly at the outlaws, whowere shooting at him. But the speed of Shorty's horse was too great foraccurate shooting; and Shorty kept going--waving his hat for a time, andthen, when out of range, riding hard--seeming to glide like a shadowinto the yawning gulf of distance.

  The depression into which Blackburn and his men had crept was not morethan three or four feet deep, with long, sloping sides which werecovered with alkali and rotted rock. Along the edges grew greasewood andmesquite bushes, which afforded concealment but not protection. Theshallow was wide enough for the horses, though the men were forced tothrow the animals and stake their heads down, so that they would notshow themselves above the edge of the depression and thus become targetsfor the outlaws.

  The firing during the night was intermittent. Once the outlaws made anattempt to withdraw, rushing concertedly toward their horses, which theyhad concealed in a sand draw slightly behind them, southward. ButBlackburn and his men were alert.

  The outlaws had chosen a gully for their ambuscade, but they had madethe mistake of leaving their horses too far away from their place ofconcealment. And when they rushed across the stretch of level thatextended from the gully to the draw, half a dozen of them dropped beforethey had traveled a quarter of the distance. The others plunged backinto the gully, while the Circle L men yelled exultantly.

  As Blackburn had told Shorty, he did not expect to rout or capture theoutlaws; the best he could hope for was that Shorty would get help intime to head off the cattle before the other outlaws drove them intoKinney's canon or that he would bring help to the Circle L men in timeto prevent the sanguinary fight which would certainly occur as soon asthe day dawned.

  And so Blackburn waited, grimly watchful; though worry began to wrinklehis face as he noted that the semi-gloom of the starlit night waslifting, and that a gray streak on the eastern horizon was slowlybroadening.