CHAPTER XVIII
THE BLACK SOMBRERO
When Andy had ridden far enough to feel secure in turning and ridingnorth--in fact, his plan was to work back to the Concho in a widecircle--he reined in and dismounted. From a low ridge he surveyed thewestern desert, approximated his bearings, and had his foot in thestirrup when he saw four tiny dots that bobbed up and down on thedistant sky-line of the west. He had left an easy trail to follow andthe pursuers were riding hard. They were still a long distance fromhim. He led his horse down the far side of the ridge and mounted. Herode straight east for perhaps a quarter of a mile. Then he turned andat right angles to his trail sped north behind the long, low, sandyridge. He could not be seen until the posse had topped it--and eventhen it was probable they would fling down the slope, following histracks until they came to where he had turned. Straight ahead of himthe ridge swung to the left. In half an hour or so he would againcross it, which he hoped to do before he was discovered. Once over theridge, he would head for the Concho. To follow him would mean that hispursuers would be riding directly away from Pete's trail. Many longdesert miles lay between Andy and the Concho, but he argued that hishorse was as fresh as the horses of his pursuers. He would give them agood run. If they overtook him before they reached the ranch, the mostthey could do would be to curse him for misleading them. He reasonedthat the posse was from the T-Bar-T--that at best the sheriff could nothave been advised of the shooting in time to join them. They wouldhave no official right to detain him or interfere with hisprogress--once they knew who he was.
A trot, a lope, then back to a swinging trot again--and as yet noriders had appeared on the hills. Andy was making good time. Thecrest of the ridge shimmered in the noon sun. At this pace he would beover and down the western side before they saw him.
When the posse finally caught sight of the man they were after far outacross the level and riding toward the west, they knew at once that hewas making for the Concho and what protection his fellows might affordhim under the circumstances. This did not fit into their scheme. Theman-hunt had tuned their pulses to a high pitch. They wanted to layhands on Gary's slayer--to disarm him and bring him into the town ofConcho themselves--or, if he showed fight, to "get" him. They forgotthat he was little more than a boy. He was an enemy--and potentlydangerous.
"It's Young Pete," said a cowboy. "I know him by that black hat."
Plying quirt and spur the posse flung down the ridge and out across theplain below. They would ride their quarry down before he reached theboundary of the Concho--before he got among his friends.
Andy turned and glanced back. They were gaining on him. He knew thathis own horse was doing his best. Again he glanced back. The riderswere forcing their horses to a terrific pace that could not last long.In a mile or so they would be close enough to use their rifles. Butthe harder they rode the better Andy liked it. They would be in sorryshape to make the long ride south after Pete, when they realized thatthey were chasing the wrong man. If he could get out of it withoutgetting shot, he would consider himself lucky. Ahead of him lay a flatof brushless land offering no shelter. He hoped that his horse wouldnot be killed by a chance shot. In that event his pride would forcehim to retaliate, until he was either killed or captured. He had aboutmade up his mind to rein up and surrender when he heard the singing_whizz-zip_ of a bullet that sprayed sand ahead of him. Then came thefaint _pop_ of a rifle far behind. He pulled up, swiftly unbuckled hisbelt, and hung his gun on the saddle-horn. Then he stepped away fromhis horse--an unconsciously fine thing to do--and turned toward thedistant posse. Again came that shrill, sinister _whizz-zip_ and he wasstanding bareheaded in the glaring sun as the black sombrero spun roundand settled lightly in the sand beside him. He wisely thrust up hishands--arguing that if the posse could see to shoot with such accuracythey could see and possibly appreciate his attitude. He felt outraged,and wanted to fight. He did not realize at the moment that hispursuers were acting in good faith according to their viewpoint.
Meanwhile they flung toward him, spreading out fanwise in case of somepossible treachery. Without moving a muscle Andy stood with his handsraised, blinkingly trying to identify each individual rider.
There was Houck on his big gray cow-horse. To the left rode Simpson,known all over the range as Gary's close friend. Andy half-expected tosee Cotton with the posse, but Cotton was not there. He did notrecognize the two riders on the wings of the posse.
"Mornin', fellas!" he called as the cowboys swept up. "What's theidea?"
"This!" snarled Simpson as he took out his rope.
"Hold on!" cried Houck, dismounting and covering White. "This ain'tour man! It's young Andy White!"
"You might 'a' found that out before you started shootin'," said Andy,lowering his hands. "My gun's on the saddle there."
Despite the fact that it was Andy White, Houck took no chances, butsearched him. Then, "what in hell was _your_ idea?"
"Me? Why, I was ridin' to the Concho when one of you guys shot my hatoff. I reckoned it was about time to pull up."
"Ridin' to the Concho, eh? I suppose you'll say next that you got lostand thought the Concho was over this way?"
"Nope. I was ridin' to the Concho to report the shootin' of Steve Garyto my boss."
Houck, who had imagined that White would disclaim any knowledge of theshooting until forced to admit it, took a new tack. "Where's PeteAnnersley?"
"That's jest what I was wonderin'. Last time I see him he was fannin'it east. I took out after him--but I must 'a' missed him."
"That'll do to tell the sheriff. We want to know what you know aboutthe shootin'-up of Steve."
"Nothin'. I was over by the shack waiting for Pete when I thought Iheard a couple of shots. Didn't pay no attention to that--'cause Petewas always poppin' his gun at somethin'. Then pretty soon Pete walksin, and I go out with him and help him ketch his hoss. He don't saymuch--and I don't. Then first thing I know he lights on that littlebuckskin hoss of his--"
"And forgets his hat," interrupted Houck.
"Nope. He was wearin' a hat the last I seen of him."
"And ridin' a buckskin cayuse, eh? Now Cotton says it was a blue roan."
Andy laughed. "That hombre Cotton's got mighty poor eyesight. Why, hecouldn't see good enough to ketch up his own hoss. Pete told me Cottonset out for home afoot. I didn't see him, but I'd take Pete's wordagainst Cotton's any time."
"Mebby you think we're takin' your word about Young Pete--and theshootin'??
"Why not?"
"We can make you talk!" threatened Simpson.
"I reckon you could," said Andy easily. "Four to one--and my gunhangin' over there on the saddle-horn. But suppose you did? How areyou goin' to' know I'll talk straight or lie to you? You ain't throwedany big scare into me yet"--and Andy stooped and caught up his hat andthrust his finger through the hole in the crown--"because I ain't donenothin' to be scared about. I ain't shot nobody and I ain't seennobody get shot. Cotton could 'a' told you that."
"That's right," asserted Houck reluctantly. "White here had nothin' todo with the shootin'. Cotton said that. We lost some time trailin'you"--Houck turned to Andy--"but we don't aim to lose any more. Whichway did young Pete ride?"
Andy laughed. "You would say I lied if I told you. But I'm goin' totell you straight. Young Pete took the old Ranger Trail south, throughthe timber. And I want to tell you gentlemen he was goin' like hella-smokin' when I seen him last. Mebby you don't believe that? Andthere's somethin' else--that old Ranger Trail forks three times thisside of Cienegas--and she forks twice afore she crosses the line.She's a dim trail when she's doin' her best acrost the rocks, andthey's places in her where she's as blind as a dead ox. Water is asscarce as cow-punchers at a camp-meetin' and they ain't no feed thisside of Showdown. And Showdown never tore its shirt tryin' to bepolite to strangers. I been there. 'Course, when it comes to rustlersand cardsharps and killers--but you fellas know how that is.
I--"
"Come on, boys," said Houck, reining round. "White here is puttin' upa talk to hold us--and Young Pete's usin' the time."
Andy watched them ride away, a queer expression lighting his face."They hate like the Ole Scratch to believe me--and they are hatin'themselves for havin' to."
He pulled off Pete's hat and turned it over, gazing at the two littleround holes curiously. "Pete, old scout," he said, smilingwhimsically, "here's hopin' they never come closer to gettin' you thanthey did to gettin' me. Keep a-ridin'--for you sure got to be that'Ridin' Kid from Powder River' this journey--and then some."
Andy turned the black sombrero round in his hands. "All this herehocus comes of the killin' of a old man that never lifted a fingeragainst nobody--and as game a kid as ever raked a hoss with a spur.But one killin' always means more. I ain't no gunman--or no killer.But, by cracky! some of my ideas has changed since I got that hole inmy hat. I wisht I'd 'a' rode with Pete. I wouldn't ask nothin' betterright now than to stand back to back with him, out in the opensomewhere and let 'em come! Because why? Because the only law that aman's got in this country is hisself--and if he's right, why, crossin'over with his gun explainin' his idees ain't the worst way to go.Anyhow, it ain't any worse than gettin' throwed from a bronc andgettin' his neck broke or gettin' stomped out in a stampede. Them'sjust regular, common ways of goin' out. I just wonder how Pete ismakin' it?"
Andy put on his hat, glanced at the sun, and strode to his pony. Faracross the eastern desert he saw the posse--a mere moving dot againstthe blue. "Wolf-hungry to make a killin' because they're foolin'themselves that they're actin' out the law! Well, come on, Chico, oldhoss, we got to make home before sundown."
The Ridin' Kid from Powder River Page 18
