by Zane Grey
“Are we to drop in any saloons?” asked Kid Marshall.
“Yes. But one drink will do you. I won’t give you any more specific orders. Use your heads.”
Kinsey left the group and disappeared in the gloom. Hal stalked off, his head erect, impressive with importance.
“Wal, come on,” said Kid to Bilt who hung back.
Doggone it, boss, can’t I call on my gurl for a minute?” he got out, with difficulty.
“Just the thing. Make it longer. Get all the town gossip. . . . Kid, have you a girl?”
“I had one, boss—the same Bilt’s got. I reckon he double-crossed me,” replied Marshall.
“Dig up another. Remember caution. This is stern business. Now go.”
They disappeared up the lane where Hal and Kinsey had preceded them. Wade rolled and smoked a cigarette. He was in no hurry. The hour was early, just after supper. Presently, on this Saturday night, the main street of Holbrook would be thronged. Wade had nothing especial to think over. Every possible contingency that might arise had been considered. In the nature of events, as he calculated them, this visit to Holbrook was critical. It might well be conclusive. He sensed something charged, cumulative, inevitable. If he had been a gambler for gold, instead of life, he would not have hesitated on this still balmy spring night to stake all on the turn of a single card.
Wade left his coat, which was of dark hue, in the wagon. On former visits to Holbrook he had worn black. This time he had on a light shirt and an old tan sombrero. These, with the removal of his beard, would make him difficult to recognize at a glance as Tex Brandon.
Presently he sauntered slowly up town. Lamps flared yellow and dim. Pedestrians on one side of the wide street could be distinguished only as their dark forms passed the lights. Wade walked the length of the long block of stores and saloons, crossed to the opposite side and proceeded along that. Business was good. The saloons were crowded, and there were many hilarious cowboys jostling and jingling up and down the sidewalk.
A lanky high-booted cattleman, leaning against a hitching rail, invited Wade’s interest. “Howdy,” said Wade. “Just rolled in. What’s the news about town?”
“Howdy, stranger,” replied the other, with a keen glance. “Lots of news. Any special kind you want?”
“Not particular. Town ’pears pretty lively.”
“Yes. First trip in for most cowboys an’ all the teamsters Stores all loaded up with new goods. There’s a new store, too, Radwell’s—an’ they’re gettin’ trade. Are you buyin’, stranger?”
“Three wagonloads. I’m foreman for Pencarrow.”
“Pencarrow? Reckon I dont know him. But I’m not an old stager around Holbrook.”
“How are cattle sellin’?”
“Steady. Thirty dollars on the hoof. The big ranchers here are holdin’ tight. Cattle will climb slowly for several years.”
“That Lincoln County War over yet?”
“Hell no. It busted out fresh this spring. I reckon thet fight at McSween’s beats them all.”
“Thet so? Tell me about it.”
“All I know is what I heerd. It ’pears Billy the Kid an’ his outfit was on McSween’s side in this war. An’ the other faction surrounded McSween’s. There was a hell of a fight for two days. McSween an’ some of his men killed. Billy the Kid held the fort till they set fire to it. Would you believe it, thet cold-blooded little rooster held out till the roof was blazin’. Then in the face of rifle fire an’ in light bright as day Billy’s outfit made a break for it. Some of them were killed, but most of them got away. Billy came out arunnin’ with a gun in each hand spoutin’ red. They ‘never touched him.”
“Well! Nervy fellow, that Billy the Kid,” declared Wade.
“Quiet little chap. I seen him once. Only a boy! But he was shore born without fear.”
“What you hear about our own rustler factions?”
“I ain’t heerd nothin’. It’s about time, though, our ranges got to warmin’ up. This’ll be a hot year for cattle thieves.”
“Reckon it will,” agreed Wade. “Well, I’ll be moseyin” along.”
Wade did not accept this cattleman’s talk as conclusive, still he did not want to risk recognition by going into places where he was known. He kept a sharp lookout for his own men, and satisfied himself that not one of them passed him. He ventured peeping in the saloons, where he was greeted by smoke and loud talk and the odor of rum. Finally Wade decided he would let well enough alone and he went back to the wagons, where he smoked and Waited.
Kinsey was the first to arrive. “Wide open cow town, boss,” he said. “Money an’ booze thick as hops. I saw one doubtful lookin’ outfit, but the cowboys I asked didn’t know them. Or said they didn’t! You can buy drinks for anybody, but they’re not tellin’ you anythin’.”
“I had a look up town. Talked with one man. He said there was plenty of news, and asked what particular kind I wanted. I was a little leery of him.”
“Here comes somebody. . . . It’s Kid. . . . Over this way, Kid.”
“Doggone! I can’t see straight. Thet drink I had musta been aquafortis. . . . Gimme a cigarette. . . . You hombres don’t look worried none.”
“What’d you get track of, Kid?” queried Wade.
“Not a damn thing to make us set up an’ take notice. Town’s full of cowpunchers, all heeled with a winter’s wages. Some slick little hawk-eyed gurls thet I never seen before. Shore had to duck them. Plenty of cardsharps. An’ a sprinklin’ of rustlin’ gents, if I know thet brand.”
“Did you see anything of Bilt?”
“Not after the locoed galoot seen Susie with some longlaiged cowpuncher,” responded Marshall, with a deep laugh. “I guess mebbe thet little chunk of taffy ain’t a smart one. Had me believin’ she never looked at no puncher but me. Had Bilt the same.”
“Kid, this is no time for girls,” said Wade, seriously.
“Boss, I know thet. An’ I gave Bilt a hunch. But he’s plumb loco. He loves thet lyin’ little wench. An’ to be fair to her, I reckon she likes him best. Anyway they was engaged.”
“Here he comes now,” interposed Hogue.
Bilt’s shuffling clinking step announced his approach. He darkened out of the gloom, and his heavy breathing could be heard before he got to the wagon.
“Winded, by gosh! ” whispered Kid, dramatically. “Bilt wouldn’t run from anythin’ on laigs.”
“Whar’n hell air you—all?” he growled, gropingly.
“All here but Hal. Did you see him?”
“Nope. I didn’t—see nothin’,” replied Bilt, slumping down on a wagon tongue. His labored breathing appeared to come more from agitation than activity.
“Hell you didn’t,” snapped Kid. “I just told the boss. An’ he’s sore.
“Tex, I was knocked off my saddle,” explained Bilt. “Run into Susie with a handsome cowboy. He shore was the dandy. I told her pronto thet I wanted to see her alone. She said she was sorry but I’d have to wait. An’ if I’d like to know it there wasn’t any particular reason why she should see me nohow. . . . My Gawd! Wimmen shore are no good! . . . Wal, her gentleman friend crowed at me. I asked him polite who he was. An’ he said Joe Steele, from Mariposa, one of Mason’s riders. He was expectin’ his boss on the ten o’clock train from Winslow. I said sarcastic, Wal, your boss won’t come on thet train or any other. An? ‘Mr. Steele,’ I went on, ‘he won’t buy no more rustler cattle. . . .” He yelped angry at thet, an’ I got the idee he was honest enough. No doubt Mason had a square outfit. But I shut Steele up an’ asked him short an’ sweet if he was packin’ a gun. Susie bleated the’ he wasn’t an’ for me to go where it was hot. Steele tried to get in a word. Finally he told me he wasn’t packin’ no gun an’ thet if he was he wouldn’t throw it on a jealous little runt like me. Not before a lady! . . . Haw! Haw! So I swung on him, biff, biff! right on his handsome mug, an’ left him layin’ at Susie’s feet.”
Wade was silent, pondering Bilt’s story, while the other
boys made dry comments.
“Boss, lemme go back uptown now an’ I’ll find out somethin’,” begged Bilt.
“You did pretty well,” rejoined Wade. “I question the wisdom of telling Steele his boss would never buy any more rustled cattle. But let that go. In another day or so it’ll be range news. . . . Will Steele be hunting you up tomorrow?”
“If he’s got any guts he will. Mebbe he was talkin’ lofty before the girl.”
A quick sharp footstep, without the jingling accompaniment of spurs, caught Wade’s ear. He held up his hand. It always pleased him to be the first of his outfit to hear or see some one. Hal arrived. He was pale with importance and his big eyes gleamed in the starlight.
“Rand Blue—or Drake, as he’s known—an’ Holbrook Kent are in town,” he announced coolly, breathing hard.
No one made any reply at the moment. Presently Kinsey coughed and said: “Ahuh. . . . Good work, Hal. None of us got even a hunch.”
“Tex, I went up one side of the street an’ then down the other. Run plumb into McComb. He was surprised an’ anxious. I told him we were in town with you. He drew me back in the shadow. . . . That mawnin’ he’d been in the bank. He’s a director now. An’ he learned that Drake an’ Kent were in town layin’ pretty low. Drake went to the bank. He had four men with him. He has a big sum of money. He had expected to meet Mason at Winslow. But Mason didn’t come. Thet’s what Drake told the cashier, Seemed pretty anxious.”
“He expects to meet Mason here, and probably Harrobin too,” said Wade, decisively.
“McComb told me that Drake has had many friends in Holbrook,” went on Hal. “This visit is his first since last fall. Seems changed, the cashier said. Thet rustler rumor hangs over him.”
“All right. My luck holds,” returned Wade, incisively. “We know Blue and Kent are in town. But they don’t know we are. And they won’t know till we meet Blue or Kent—or both. . . . Listen, boys. Tomorrow early hitch up and drive the three wagons up town. Go to Sloan’s. They are friends of Pencarrow. Stick close together. Buy and pack this list of supplies pronto, but not to excite curiosity. . . . Hogue, you hang around the front of the store. Keep your eye peeled. If I happen along don’t notice me. I’ll be taken for a stranger.”
“Ahuh. . . . An’ what’re you gonna do, boss?” inquired Kid Marshall.
“I’ll be on the lookout. That’s all.”
“Wal, if you meet up with Kent an’ Blue’s outfit together oughtn’t some of us be with you?” asked Kinsey.
“Yes. Probably it won’t work out that way. You can trust me to use my head. Remember, no one in Holbrook will recognize me, much less Blue or Kent.”
“Boss, has it struck you thet Blue is far from his hole an’ has only a few of his outfit with him?” queried Hogue Kinsey.
“It has,” returned Wade, vehemently. “Boys, we’re riding pretty. Crawl into the wagons and get some sleep. I’ll walk a little, then turn in.”
Wade strolled along the corral fence. The night was still. There were no sounds from the town. Near at hand the horses munched their feet. Wade could not inhibit his sensorial perceptions, but he set his thought solely in one direction and clamped it inexorably there. Conjectures and doubts formed no part of that thought. His control and restraint were so perfect that when he crawled into Hal’s wagon and lay down beside the lad, he went to sleep at once.
Wade awoke at daylight, and got up to join Kid Marshall and Kinsey, who were starting a fire and carrying water. They prepared breakfast right there in the corral. Hal was sound asleep and hard to awaken. While they ate, the sun came up over the red desert bluffs in the east. It was a cool wonderful Arizona morning. The sky and the time in May presaged wind, and wind meant blowing dust and sand.
“Boss, when we get the supplies all bought an’ packed, what’ll we do?” asked Kid Marshall. He probably knew as well as the silent Kinsey, but he had to talk.
“Wait for me,” rejoined Wade. “Don’t forget a pack of grub to eat on the way home. . . . Reckon I’ll shave my dirty face right now. Bilt will you fetch me some hot water?”
Kinsey stood by while Wade removed a three days’ growth of beard. It left his face pale and lean again.
“Well, Hogue, what’s on your mind?” queried Wade, presently.
“I was just watchin’ you use thet razor,” drawled Hogue. “Hand as steady as a rock! An’ you shore as hell to meet Holbrook Kent today! . . . You’re all cold nerve, Tex.”
“Hogue, the advantage is all mine,” said Wade.
“Tex, I was thinkin’ somethin’ else. Holbrook Kent won’t know me, either. Would you let me meet him instead of you?”
“No, cowboy, I wouldn’t.”
“Wal, I didn’t expect you would. But I’m tellin’ you—I’m gonna stick by you every damn minute this heah day.”
“Oh, you are? Against orders?”
“I wish you would fire me.”
“Well, then, against my wishes?”
“Against anythin’, Tex. I thought it out last night. I cain’t do it no more than you’d let me. It’s somethin’ I feel, but cain’t explain. Shore I know you don’t run a hell of a risk. But it’s not thet. There’s a chance, you know, an’ I ought to be beside you. Kid said the same thing an’ thet if I didn’t he would.”
“Then let Kid go with me.”
“Nope. I can beat Kid to a gun an’ thet entitles me to come first.”
“But Hcgue, suppose we’d run into Kent with Blue’s outfit and we’d both be killed? Then who’d take my place at Cedar Ranch?”
“Boss, I reckon thet if you an’ I run into this whole outfit today—an’ do get bored—Wal, it’d be the end of Blue, too. An’ thet means anyone could run Pencarrow’s ranch from then on.”
“Hogue, you figure pretty keen. I hate to give in. But Pm bound to respect your creed. Only see here, old man, there are extenuating circumstances for you. I’ve put all else out of my mind—especially Rona and Jacqueline. But I could recall them, unwise as that would be. Then I could give you a reason why you should let Kid take the risk with me.”
“No, you couldn’t.”
“Pard, I was out under the pines the other night in the moonlight—”
“No matter,” interrupted Kinsey, his voice ringing. He was visibly shaken, but wrenched out of the momentary weakness. “Forget thet, an’ anythin’ else but the job at hand.”
“Right!” ejaculated Wade, soberly. He could no longer go against his own teachings. “Let’s argue no more. Stick an extra gun in your left hip pocket, as I’ll do. And roll them a bit to loosen up your hands.”
Wade secured a second gun from his pack and retiring to a secluded shed behind the stable he spent a few moments in deliberate practice. That physical expression of the lightning-swift coordination between mind and eye and muscle liberated the domination of cold passion over his faculties. He became like a set hair trigger.
Upon returning to the wagons he briefly repeated his orders to the cowboys, then strode off toward town. Kinsey caught up with him, and taking a position on his left side a step apart, maintained that place without further ado.
The main street of Holbrook presented early morning activities. Riders were coming in, singly and in groups; loaded wagons moved out toward the range; stores and saloons were open, and the sidewalks showed loungers and pedestrians.
Wade took a good while to travel leisurely down one side of the street. But lounge along as he did, he was all eyes. He crossed to see the three Pencarrow wagons pull up to Sloan’s and the cowboys roll off the seats, cigarettes smoking, their sombreros cocked sidewise, their movements leisurely.
One disturbing factor wedged into Wade’s mind—the possibility of a long stalk for the men he sought. If it so happened that he had to promenade the street, peering into stores and saloons, his search would soon become obvious. Then it must develop into a bold hunt, with the advantage switching to his foes. This contingency haunted him, though he did not believe it would come to pass.
Things had not run that way. His luck would hold.
Wade did not need Kinsey’s slight hist to espy a group of men standing at the rail in front of the Range Well, the main saloon in town. Only one of these idlers had he ever seen before. Wade was trying to place him when the saloon door swung.
Several men strolled out joking among themselves. The foremost was a stout ruddy-faced fellow in his shirt sleeves. He wore a star on his vest. This group did not exactly block Wade’s way, but he halted some steps back.
Then a little man came out, guardedly, it appeared to Wade, He had bright sharp eyes like gimlets. Instinctively Wade recognized him as Holbrook Kent. His companion, a lanky uncouth rider, Wade had seen before. At sight of Wade he froze. Suddenly the group ahead sensed or saw that the moment was charged with potentialities.
“Hey, who’re you?” called the sheriff to Wade, blusteringly. An intense curiosity appeared in Kent’s eyes. But he lacked Wade’s long-trained instinct in meeting men.
“Howdy, Kent,” said Wade, with cool effrontery.
“You got the best of me,” returned the gunman, gruffly.
“Sure I have. I had it on Mason and Harrobin, too.”
“What!” bit out Kent.
“Yes. And before nightfall your big pard Drake will swing. . . . But you’ll never see it, Kent.”
“Hell you say? . . . An’ who’re . . .”
“Thet’s Pencarrow’s foreman,” yelled the rider wildly. “Brandon!”
With ring of spur and scrape of boot Kent’s comrades spread to right and left, leaving the principals in the middle of the sidewalk.
“Mason won’t be here to meet you, Kent. . . . But I am!” called Wade, meaningly.
The little gunman hesitated only an instant—that appreciable fraction of time it took to react from surprise. Then with a hiss he reached for his gun. He had it coming up when Wade’s shot destroyed the action. The gun discharged as it fell and the report rang loud and clapped in echo from the opposite wall. The little man fell, lifeless before he flopped to the sidewalk. Visage and glance set in that last grim expression.
