by Zane Grey
“What’n hell air you porin’ over, cowboy?” asked Bilyen, curiously, as he came upon Brazos.
“There! My hunch was true.”
Bilyen did not utter a word but made a careful inspection of the spot, and then faced Brazos with a curious fire in his eye.
“Cowboy, there’s a girl mixed in this deal.”
“Shore.”
“An’ she come way back heah to be far from thet cabin. . . . An’ she set her hawse for a while. . . . An’ she got off heah—an’ heah she walked to and fro. . . . Nervous! An’ heah she stood still, her heels diggin’ in. Rooted to the spot, hey, Brazos? . . . An’ there she got on again, light-footed an’ quick. . . . Wal, Brazos, I’ll be——!”
“So will I, Hank,” rejoined Brazos, ponderingly. “Get me some little sticks so I can measure this track.”
“Brazos, I reckon you won’t be lookin’ for a cowgirl answerin’ to this boot track? . . . Not much!”
“Not any at all,” returned Brazos, with a cold steely note in his voice.
“She was the one of them three hombres with the young nervous high-pitched voice. . . . She was afraid of the risk. . . . She was goin’ to bore you, Brazos!”
“I shore gotta meet thet sweet little lady.”
“How you goin’ aboot thet, Brazos?” asked Hank, scratching his scrubby beard.
“Ride the line an’ take a look at the gamblin’ halls.”
“They got cash an’ they ain’t cowmen. Wal, when you find out where their money comes from you’ll be gettin’ hot.”
“Hot? Say, old-timer, I’m burnin’ right now. . . . But I’ll cool off. I don’t like the idee of a hard nut of a cowgirl in this deal. I might have to wing her. I did thet once to a woman who was drawin’ on me an’ I’ll never forget her scream.”
“How you figure her part in this?”
“How do yu?”
“Plain as print. She an’ her two pards air from oot of town—she’s a good-looker an’ likely enticin’ to cowboys. Allen Neece was easy took in by girls. He liked a drink, too, same as all the boys. Wal, this gang of three was after him, for reasons that bear strong in this deal. She got to Allen—an’ the rest was easy.”
“I figure aboot like thet, Hank,” returned Brazos, thoughtfully. “Beside I know more’n yu. The night Allen was killed he walked down to the barns to get his hawse. Pedro said there was a boy with him—a boy on a black hawse—an’ they hung ootside. They rode away. Now what happened is this. If I remember correct thet night was nice an’ warm, with a moon an’ the frogs peepin’—just the night for a rendezvous oot heah. But they never got heah. Thet Brad an’ his other pard roped Allen an’ dragged him off his hawse. The fall killed Allen, but they didn’t know it. They packed him up heah, shot him—an’ left him in the cabin.”
“While the girl waited heah under this tree nervous an’ sick,” added Hank.
“Nervous, anyhow. Wal, she had—good reason to be nervous,” declared Brazos, darkly. “Just aboot then I rode into the deal.”
“Funny how things work oot. It shore don’t pay to be crooked. . . . Brazos, who’s behind all this?”
“Hank, yu’re a curious cuss,” drawled Brazos, carefully depositing in his pocket the little sticks with which he had measured the foot track. “Let’s go back to town an’ have breakfast.”
On the return they did not exchange another word until they got by Twin Sombreros Ranch, when Bilyen curtly asked Brazos: “Did you see Surface standin’ in the door?”
“Shore. He looked big as a hill.”
“Must be one of these early birds, eh?” rejoined Bilyen, sarcastically.
From there on into town Brazos found his tongue and asked his comrade many questions regarding the possibility of one of the big cattlemen of the range being the genius and backer of a bold and clever gang of rustlers.
“Kinda hipped on thet idee, ain’t you?” rejoined Bilyen, who seemed nettled that Brazos did not tell all he knew.
“Reckon I am. It’s a great idee.”
“Wal, it wasn’t born with you, Brazos. I had thet long ago.”
“Hank, yu’re from Texas an’ no fool,” mused Brazos, as if apologizing for Bilyen. ‘Will yu swear to it?”
“I shore will—to you. But I wouldn’t want to yell it oot loud in the Happy Days or the post office.”
“Why wouldn’t yu, old-timer?”
“I want to live long enough to see Abe an’ the twins back at their ranch.”
“Ahuh. Wal, I’ll yell it—tonight at thet Cattlemen’s Association meetin’.”
“By Gawd, you’ve a nerve, Brazos! An’ you’re cunnin’, too. Wonder I didn’t think you’d do just thet. . . . Shore we figger the same. You’d egg one of them cattlemen an’ whoever’s in with him to sic the cowgirl an’ her hombres on to you, eh?”
“Eggs-ack-ly, Hank,” drawled Brazos.
“Hell! It’s no good. If they wasn’t too smart to trail you they’d be too scairt.”
“Wal, maybe they never heahed of me.”
“They’re livin’ west of the Mississippi, ain’t they?”
“It’s a good idee anyhow, Hank. An’ heah’s where we eat.”
“I’ll ride oot home an’ get breakfast for Abe. See you pronto.”
In a few more moments Brazos was gazing across the counter into a pair of lovely hazel-brown eyes that shone upon him.
“Mawnin’ June—if yu’re June,” he said, with a smile.
“Good mawnin’, Brazos,” she replied, mimicking his accent.
A perverse devil in Brazos led him to whisper: “What would I get—if I’d found oot somethin’ important for yu?”
Her eyes dilated and the rose of her cheek faded. “What would you like—flapjacks or lamb chops?” she queried, meeting him in spirit.
“Aw, no! . . . Would I get a kiss?”
She blushed scarlet and the hint of humor fled. “Certainly, you would.”
The surprise of that quick assent shocked Brazos into a realization of his bold levity.
“Forgive thet. I’m loco this mawnin’,” he added, hurriedly, lowering his eyes. He knew that his remorse was not going to live long in the light of her consent. Presently under his lowered gaze he saw both flapjacks and lamb chops set before him, and mumbling his thanks he began to eat. Presently his ears were assailed by a sweet voice: “No coffee and biscuits this morning?”
“Aw, I forgot. Shore I do,” replied Brazos, nonplussed at he did not know what. Until he looked up!
“So that is the secret of your heroics?”
“Wha-at?” blurted Brazos, dumbfounded.
“You would extract a kiss from Janis for some little service to the Neeces?”
“June! . . . So help me heaven I swear I thought she was yu.”
“Cowboy!”
At that Brazos flushed deeply. To be relegated to the rank and file of ordinary cowboys was something he could not tolerate.
“Look heah, Lady,” he said, coolly, “I thought she was yu. Thet’s a mistake I cain’t help. It just popped oot—thet aboot askin’ for a kiss. I shore didn’t mean it an’ I apologized to her. An’ I do to yu. I was loco.”
“Why were you so—so loco this morning?” she asked, dubiously, a little less aloof.
Brazos cautiously made certain no one could hear his reply. “June, this mawnin’ I found a real clue to Allen’s murderers. I cain’t tell yu now, but I will tonight, if yu’ll see me.”
“Come after ten,” she replied, in earnest eagerness. “Oh, I can hardly wait . . . Brazos, I’m ashamed. I—I doubted you again.”
“Again? I didn’t know yu’d already done thet.”
“Yes, again. I may as well confess it. I—I’m horribly jealous of Jan. She gets all the boys and men, too.”
“Ha! Ha! I’d shore like a tintype picture of thet. Wal, I can forgive yu doubtin’ me, but I’m not so shore aboot yore callin’ me ‘cowboy,’ the way yu said it.”
“How did I say it, Brazos?”
> “Turrible full of contempt. An’ see heah, June Neece. Hard name I have, I gotta admit. But all the same I don’t belong to thet cowboy brand.”
“I am sorry. It’s my turn to beg pardon. . . . Then I’m to tell Jan you took her for me—and you were only teasing about the kiss?” Heightened color and rather abashed eyes accompanied this query.
“Please do, June. An’ tell her I know she was teasin’ too—aboot givin’ me the kiss.”
“Not Jan! She meant that.”
“O Lord, what am I missin’!” burst out Brazos, frankly. There were times when he had to be deadly honest.
“If you really took Jan for me—you will miss nothing,” replied June, tilting her chin.
“I really did. An’ what yu mean, June Neece—thet I’ll miss nothin’?”
“Because I will give you two!” she flashed, merrily, and fled.
Brazos rode twenty miles that day and visited a spring roundup, two cow camps, and a ranch with a shadowy reputation. At each place he introduced himself with a question.
“Have yu-all seen a bald-faced thoroughbred hawse with three white feet? I’m Brazos Keene an’ my hawse was stole. Last seen goin’ north with two men an’ a kid—maybe a girl in boy’s clothes—on a black hawse.”
His inquiry elicited sympathy everywhere except at a ranch where the burly dark-browed rancher, Sneed, betrayed a glint of curiosity that the keen Brazos did not fail to record.
“No, Keene, I hain’t seen any hoss marked like that,” he replied, slowly.
“But yu did see the two men an’ the kid—who’s a cowgirl?” swiftly followed Brazos.
“What you givin’ me? I didn’t say so.”
“Aw, the hell yu didn’t. Sneed, if yu want to tell me when an’ where yu seen thet ootfit, wal an’ good. But if yu don’t yu’re shore gonna be watched.”
“Watched! An’ who by, an’ what fer, Mister Keene?”
“Ask yoreself. Air yu tellin’ me, Sneed?”
“I hain’t seen no two men an’ a kid,” repeated Sneed, stoutly.
“How aboot cattle?” hazarded Brazos, like a hound on the scent. “Seen any herds of mixed brands drove along heah toward the Kansas line?”
“No,” replied Sneed, harshly.
“Then yu must have been wearin’ blinders . . . or maybe yu couldn’t see for dust. . . . Good day, Sneed. I’ll be seein’ yu again.”
Brazos would never have ventured such bold and scarcely veiled remarks as these, had he not intuitively caught this cattleman over on the wrong side of the fence. Brazos had found out that Sneed had a bad name in the first place, and secondly, he had not been equal to Brazos’ sharp interrogation. There might have been only a little wrong with Sneed and then again there might have been a great deal. Brazos added another tiny link to his chain.
“Wal, in the next month or so,” he soliloquized, as he rode back toward Las Animas, “if somebody takes a pot shot at me or I find myself trailed—I’ll be doggoned shore I’m on a hot scent. An’ it behooves little Brazos to move careful.”
Brazos avoided the restaurant that night and had his supper at Mexican Joe’s. Afterward he began the gamut of the saloons, where he pretended to drink. And at nine o’clock, when he mounted the steps up to the Odd Fellows Hall, he pounded on the door with the butt of his gun.
“Open up heah!” he shouted.
The door was promptly unlocked, allowing Brazos to enter, a little unsteady on his feet. But seldom had Brazos Keene been any more sober and cool than at this moment. He needed the sharpness of vision and wit of a dozen cowboys. Much might depend on this venture.
“Excuse me, gennelmen, for intrudin’ heah. I’ll leave it to yu whether what I say is important or not.”
A dozen or perhaps fifteen men sat around a long table, upon which stood bottles and glasses and a box of cigars. Brazos swept the group in one glance, to recognize Henderson and Surface. He had never seen Sprague, but identified him from Bilyen’s description. Other faces were familiar. And lastly, to his surprise, he saw Inskip.
“It’s that cowboy, Brazos Keene,” spoke up one of the men.
“Drunk! Put him out,” called Surface, rising from his seat.
“Go slow, Mister Surface, aboot puttin’ me oot,” drawled Brazos, his eyes on the rancher like slits of fire. “I’m not drunk. Shore I’ve had a few nips just to make me talky. But yu’ll find me level-haided enough.”
“Let him have his say, Surface,” advised Henderson, intensely interested.
“Go ahaid, Brazos,” interposed Inskip, dryly.
“But the intrusion of a drunken cowboy! Intolerable,” protested Surface, and as he sank back into his seat it was not anger alone that marked his sallow visage.
“Speak up, Keene,” ordered Henderson. “Be brief and to the point.”
Brazos, having gained his point of entrance, changed visibly, and sheathed his gun, though he left his hand on the butt.
“Gentlemen, I picked oot this meetin’ as the proper place an’ time to make a statement shore to be interestin’ to all Colorado cattlemen,” began Brazos, swiftly, with his glance roving as swiftly. “It so happens thet events kinda gravitate to me. An honor I never cared for but was thrust on me! The cattle situation heah on this range from the Spanish Peaks down to the Old Trail is nothin’ new to me. I recall five situations like it. Yu all know what caused the Lincoln County War in New Mexico. Yu all shore have heahed of the Sewall McCoy combine with Russ Slaughter. On the one hand there was the educated rich smooth cunnin’ gentleman-rancher, an’ on the other the dyed-in-the-wool rustler, hard as flint, an’ leader of as bloody an ootfit of cattle thieves as ever forked hawses. Yu-all may have heahed too, what I had to do with the trailin’ an’ breakin’ thet double ootfit. I mention it heah, not to brag, but to give some importance to what I’m aboot to tell yu.”
Brazos let that sink in. He did not rest his gaze upon any one of the fascinated faces of his listeners, but he missed nothing of the effect of his words.
“Yu cattlemen face the same situation heah on this range,” he went on impressively. “An’ if yu don’t break it up there’s no tellin’ how powerful an’ all-embracin’ it’ll grow. . . . Short an’ sweet then, gentlemen, there’s a cattleman on this range who’s workin’ like Sewall McCoy. He’s yore friend an’ maybe pardner. I’m not insultin’ any of yu heah or any citizen of Las Animas. ’Cause what I know cain’t be proved at this tellin’. But it’s the truth yu can gamble on. . . . Thet’s all gentlemen. Take it for what it’s worth.”
Slowly Brazos, while ending this biting speech, backed to the door, limning on his mind’s eye the strangely contrasting visages there. Then with a leap he was out of the door, to bound down the stairs.
CHAPTER
6
AS the train whistled for Las Animas the conductor observed Brazos Keene buckling a heavy gun belt around his slim waist. And the several passengers who had scraped acquaintance with the handsome cowboy in his new suit stared aghast.
“That nice curly-haired cowboy!” whispered one, a girl in her teens.
“Who would have thought it!” ejaculated her mother.
“Cowboy, it’s two days yet till July Fourth,” remarked the conductor.
“Wal, heah at Las Animas I don’t feel right withoot my hardware on,” drawled Brazos, smiling at the girl.
“Who are you?” she asked, eagerly.
“Sorry to confess, Lady. But I been sailin’ under false colors. I’m Curly Keene, bandit, an’ all around desperado. . . . Adios.”
Brazos picked up his bag and made for the platform. As the train slowed to a halt he espied Bilyen foremost of the waiting bystanders. Before Brazos stepped down he swept the platform with searching gaze. Bilyen beckoned for him to come off.
“Howdy, Hank,” drawled Brazos. “Kinda like old times to see yu packin’ thet gun.”
“Wal, you dressed-up son of a gun,” ejaculated Hank, delighted. “Brazos, you shore like fine.”
“How about thi
ngs heah?”
“Not so good. But no hurry tellin’. I hope you had better luck than me.”
“Hank, I shore learned a heap. But what good it’d do I cain’t say. . . . Come with me. I’ve got somethin’ for the twins.”
They entered the restaurant to find June and Janis excited and glowing, for once forgetting their duties. Brazos made them a gallant bow, and then gazed from one to the other in exceeding great earnestness, and back again.
“Aw! Three weeks makes no difference. I cain’t tell yu apart. I cain’t tell nothin’ ‘cept yu air lovelier,” he said. “Heah, I fetched yu somethin’ from Kansas City.” And opening his bag he drew forth two large beribboned boxes of candy and presented them.
“Oh, Brazos—you look grand!” exclaimed one, taking him in with rapt eyes. If she were June she neglected the little identifying mannerism she had agreed to adopt for Brazos’ sake.
“Thanks, cowboy. We thought you’d never, never get back,” murmured the other.
“Almost prayed you wouldn’t!”
That would be June, Brazos thought, and thrilled to the soft dark shadow in her tawny eyes.
“Aw, thet wasn’t kind. . . . Has anyone been lookin’ for me?”
“Brazos, we try not to hear talk across the counter—but we did . . . and Jack is worried.”
“Wal, girls, don’t worry none, now I’m back. See yu later. I’m goin’ oot with Hank. Got some news for yore Dad.”
Outside Brazos turned to his faithful comrade and voiced a sharp query: “What’s come off? June an’ Janis look a little strained.”
“Worry about you, I reckon. The damn burg has been full of talk.”
“Ahuh. Wal, let’s walk down to Joe’s. I’ll leave my bag. Did yu fetch my hawse in?”
“No. I drove in for supplies. You can ride oot on the wagon with me.”
Brazos gave attention to the street and pedestrians ahead. Las Animas showed the stimulus due to the near approach of the Fourth. It was scarcely likely that any one on the street saw Brazos first. Mexican Joe, at sight of him, beamed all over his seamed and swarthy face. “Ah, Señor Brazos. Now thees good old time she come back!” Hank turned a corner with Brazos and led him to a side street.
