Kurt Dodd spoke drily. “Help comes high nowadays. Ten thousand dollars, with one thousand in advance. Duke, are you loco?”
Haslam grinned at him. “The other nine are to be paid at the end of the year; don’t forget that. At the end of the year.”
“Shore; I got you. But just the same is it worth even a thousand?”
“It’s worth every bit of that, Kurt. You don’t catch the full significance of the deal. There is a woman in it. June Tomlinson. I’ve taken quite a fancy to her, Kurt.”
Dodd’s face sobered. “Better watch yore step, Duke. Don’t go gettin’ no female mixed up in this or you’ll cook yore own goose.”
“I’m a wealthy man,” mused Haslam. “I’m right in my prime and I’m not at all repulsive. But Dick Markley and Bob Lee have the things which I lack. They have youth, fire, and enthusiasm. I’m a cold-blooded cuss; I can’t rush in and sweep the damsel off her feet. Dick is madly in love with her, and I believe Lee is too, although he tries to hide it, chiefly on Dick’s account. The girl has known them only a short time, but I can see that she likes them both very much. So much, in fact, that if one were to kill the other—Well, do you get my drift?”
Kurt was grinning again. “Yeah, I get you, you slippery old sidewinder! If one kills the other, it finishes both with the girl.”
“And leaves the way clear for me,” finished Haslam. He got up. “I’ll be going, Kurt. Good night, and good luck.”
CHAPTER V
HOOF PRINTS
DEUCE LOWERY pushed back his plate with a sigh of contentment. “I just cain’t eat another mouthful, Miss June. Never before have I wrapped myself such a han’some repast. I’ve done reached the satcheration point.”
“That goes double for me,” echoed Ace. “Man and boy I’ve et from tin cans, chuck wagons, hash houses, and hotels for twenty-five years, and I ain’t never enjoyed my victualsso much.”
June Tomlinson smiled across the table at them. “You flatter me.”
“Flatter!” cried Deuce reproachfully. “Why, ma’am, there ain’t words enough for me to tell you everything I’d like to.” He glanced at her meaningly, then blushed and looked away as Ace bent a hard gaze on him. “You know,” he went on sadly, “it’s awful tough for a man to go through life alone, with no comfortin’ hand of woman to soothe his brow and mix his biscuits.”
June’s eyes were sparkling. “It must be terrible! But a good-looking man like you should not be bothered in that way any longer than he chooses. There are any number of nice girls who would be glad to do the soothing and the mixing.”
Deuce shook his head. “I reckon I’m too partic’lar, ma’am. Up till last week I never seen one that I’d look at a second time.”
“Seems to me you looked more than once at that waitress in the Elite Cafe,” said Ace tartly.
Deuce blushed. “Aw, that was just a passin’ fancy.”
“Yeah? And how about that little señorita down at Juarez; and that widder woman in Santone you met through the mattermonial agency.”
“I was deceived in that widder,” Deuce protested, highly uncomfortable. “The ad said she was little and had a fat income; instead it was the income that was little and her that was fat.”
Ace turned to June. “You cain’t believe a word he says, ma’am. He’s a reg’lar Don John with wimmen. Me, I’m different. I’m steady and reliable. I ain’t so long on looks, but—”
“You shore are long on everything else,” Deuce interrupted. “You’re so long that a lady would break her neck tryin’ to look you in the face.”
“And you’re so short she’d get humpbacked kissin’ you good-by!” Ace retorted. “A woman likes somebody who is tall enough to sweep her off her feet. I’ll leave it to Miss June if she don’t.”
“The subject is too deep for me,” June told them merrily. “Let’s go into the living room and put it up to father.”
They joined Tomlinson, who, because of the splints on his leg, spent most of his time in an armchair, and for an hour or so amused him with their friendly bickerings. It was dark when they took their leave to patrol the range in accordance with Bob’s instructions. For awhile they rode in silence, then Ace said:
“That shore is some li’l’ woman, Deuce.”
“Yeah. And you hadda go blab about that waitress and widder woman. And you deceived her about yore age. Man and boy you’ve been eatin’ for twenty-five years! Accordin’ to that you didn’t begin to eat until you was twelve. And that taffy about bein’ steady and reliable! You should ’a’ said dumb and incapable.”
“Trouble with you is you’re jealous.”
Deuce bristled. “Jealous! Who, me? My gosh! Why, you long-legged giraffe, you’re so high in the air Miss June couldn’t see you with a telescope.”
“And you’re so low down she’d need a mikerscope to find you.” A short silence; then, “Deuce, I reckon we’re a pair of fools.”
Deuce sighed heavily. “Ace, I reckon you’re right!”
They crossed the creek which wound through the valley, continued for several miles, then, after smoking a cigarette together, separated. Deuce turned northwest, following the line of the creek, and Ace turned southeast. On Deuce’s right and to Ace’s left was the boundary of Kurt Dodd’s Kady, which extended back into the hills on that side of the valley. In time, Deuce would reach the Big 4 of Frank Enright, the cattleman who had superintended at the hanging, and Ace would find himself on Dutch Trumbauer’s Candlestick.
Deuce rode slowly, holding his cigarette so that the glowing tip was hidden in a cupped palm. Around him were cattle, some grazing, others lying down. By the time he reached the Big 4, the moon was shining, and Deuce kept as much as was possible to low spots in the range.
Halfway across the Big 4 he pulled up, dismounted to stretch, and, grounding the reins, smoked another cigarette. Presently he remounted, turned, and started back over his beat, this time cutting closer to the Kady boundary.
At the extreme corner of Tomlinson’s Tumbling T was a large spring, the overflow of which nourished a particularly lush area of grass. Here he found congregated more than the usual number of cattle. Deuce frowned at their proximity to the Kady and the concealing hills beyond, but the animals were quietly grazing or sleeping, and he rode on.
Back near the point where they had separated he met Ace, also on the return trick. They stopped and talked awhile, lounging in their saddles, then again parted, each to cover the territory over which the other had just passed. Deuce glanced at the moon and judged it to be about two o’clock. An hour later he was on Trumbauer’s spread and drew rein to roll another smoke. He was twisting the end of the paper when the distant boom of a sixgun reached him.
He arrested all motion and sat erect, listening. It came again, dulled by distance. He dropped the cigarette, wheeled his horse, and jumped him into a fast run.
Back across the Tumbling T he sped, headed for the spring in the north corner. The sound of any additional gunfire was smothered beneath the pound of hoofs. For an hour he rode, then saw on the crest of a ridge a number of cattle, running from the direction of the spring. Presently he encountered another small bunch which scattered wildly at his approach.
He found the pasture at the spring silent and deserted. Drawing up to breathe his horse, he sat the saddle with ears cocked for a tell-tale sound. There was none.
Deuce swore worriedly. To attempt tracking by moonlight was foolish. He rode slowly toward the Kady, crossed the boundary and circled. From the total absence of cattle in the vicinity he judged that there must have been considerable shooting; but he came across no riderless horse, no sign whatever of the fight Ace must have precipitated.
Riding back to the spring, he slipped the bit so his horse could graze, and, squatting on the ground, set about the task of building another cigarette. He smoked it slowly, rolled and smoked another, and then a third. The moon sank lower, the sky in the east began to brighten. Deuce got to his feet, caught the horse, and adjusted the bit once more.
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sp; “Be light soon,” he told the animal; then stiffened as a faint sound came to him. Somewhere on the Kady an iron-shod hoof had struck a rock.
He drew the Winchester from its sheath and levered a shell into the chamber. The sound of hoofbeats was quite plain now. Deuce’s eyes narrowed and he clamped his jaws tight in his eagerness. The vague form of a horseman materialized out of the gloom, approaching at a swinging lope. Deuce raised the Winchester, steadying it over the saddle, Another fifty feet—
He swore, half in disgust, half in relief, and pushed the rifle back into the boot. “This way, Legs!” he shouted.
Ace swerved his mount slightly, pulled up within a half dozen feet of Deuce, and, curling a long leg about the saddle horn, reached for the makings.
“About time you showed up,” he said.
“Why, you dawggone—” Deuce began, then, realizing that Ace was baiting him, smothered the outburst. “Where are the prisoners?” he inquired calmly.
“That’s what I was fixin’ to ask you. You must of rode right past the rustlers without seein’ them. They was right busy when I got here. One seen me crossin’ a ridge and fired a warnin’ shot.”
“Too bad he didn’t hit you,” growled Deuce. “Ain’t you got no sense, crossin’ a ridge on a moonlit night?”
“I couldn’t move the danged thing outa the way, could I? Or mebbe you figger I should have dug a tunnel. Anyhow, they skeedaddled and I chased ’em. Followed ’em to the hills where they split. But they was in such a hurry that they shore didn’t drive any beef along with them.”
“Well, let’s find Bob. Those tracks will keep for a few hours.”
It was daylight when they reached the Tumbling T ranch house. Deuce stopped only long enough to notify Tomlinson, who immediately ordered his crew to the spring. Reluctantly declining June’s invitation to breakfast, Deuce continued to town, leaving Ace to direct Tomlinson’s punchers.
Deuce found Bob in the sheriff’s office, and tersely reported.
“I’ll go out there at once,” Bob told him. “You stay in town in my place. Get yoreself some breakfast, and if you want to sleep there’s a cot in the office here. Turn in when you feel like it. So long.”
He rode swiftly out of town, reaching the Tumbling T in an hour and a half. As he swung into the yard he noticed a familiar horse in the corral, and consequently was not surprised to find Dick Markley in the living room talking with Tomlinson and June.
“Howdy, folks,” Bob greeted them. “Mr. Tomlinson, I dropped in to find out if yore men had reported yet.”
“They’re still out there, Bob. I shore hope they round up the thieves. They’re Texas men, and they’ll know how to deal with them.”
“Then I’ll be ridin’. See you later.”
Dick followed him from the room. “Mind if I jog along?” he asked.
“Glad to have you, partner! Wish you were ridin’ with me steady.”
It was mid-morning when they reached the spring. Cattle had drifted back to the place, almost obliterating the tracks left by the raiders. Bob, however, dismounted and studied those he could find. For a few minutes he stood looking about, studying the ground and the surrounding scrub growth; then Dick saw him stiffen alertly and walk to a point some fifteen feet away. He stopped, glanced keenly at the ground, then bent over and retrieved an object which glinted in the sunlight. He was frowning thoughtfully when he returned to where Dick was lounging in his saddle.
“That’s funny,” he said, handing the object to Dick. “I thought you shot the only forty-one around these diggin’s, but I was wrong. Somebody in the rustler outfit uses one too.”
Dick took the empty cartridge and examined it with as much evident interest as Bob had displayed. “That’s right,” he agreed. “Wonder who it is?”
Bob remounted and led the way from the spring, angling across the Kady in the direction taken by Tomlinson’s men. The terrain became more broken as they penetrated into the hills, and they were finally compelled to slow their horses’ gait to a walk.
“Shore is fine country for a rustler hideout,” observed Bob.
“Still thinkin’ of Kurt Dodd?”
Bob nodded somberly. “Yes. The more I study over the thing the more convinced I am that he is behind this stealin’. Dick, why did you ever sign on with that outfit?”
“Well, Bob, I’ll tell you.” For a few seconds Dick rode in silence. The time had come when he must carry out his odious bargain with Duke Haslam, and the task was proving harder than he had anticipated. Never before had he deliberately lied to Bob, and the knowledge that his friend would accept his word unhesitatingly made it particularly difficult to do so now.
“I signed up with Dodd thinkin’ I might help you. I knew you suspected him, and if you were wrong I know you’d waste a lot of time tryin’ to prove somethin’ on him instead of lookin’ elsewhere. Bob, Kurt got. nothin’ to do with this. Take last night; he said he was goin’ to stay in town. Did he?”
“He did; and while he might have slipped out to the spring he never would have had time to get back again for breakfast. Kid, did you really do that for me?”
“Yeah, I did.” Dick did not look at his friend, for he knew Bob’s face was alight with pleasure. In that moment Dick mentally cursed Duke Haslam and his own weak self.
Bob edged his horse over beside him and thumped him resoundingly on the back. “You old horse thief! I wondered why you didn’t take that deputy job. A hundred a month is nothin’ to sneeze at. And you passed it up for forty a month figurin’ you would save me a little trouble! Doggone you, kid, I could lick you for that!”
“Aw, shut up,” growled Dick. “I—hell! I didn’t want that deputy job nohow. I ain’t fit for it.”
“Why, you’re talkin’ like a crazy man! There’s nothin’ I’d like better in the world than to have you sidin’ me! Kid, come in with me. We’ll clean up Lariat and show Duke Haslam how to run a county. What you say?”
Dick’s face was tight. “I cain’t do it,” he said shortly. “I’ve passed my word. I got to stick. I tell you I’ve got to stick!”
“I’m sorry, kid.” Bob was a bit puzzled at Dick’s vehemence. “But remember, when you’re free the job will be waitin’ for you. Any time, partner. Savvy?”
“Yes.” Dick’s voice was dead. “Hell! Let’s ride.” He spurred his horse, disregarding the treacherous going, and for awhile set a pace which taxed Bob’s mount to the utmost. Presently Dick pulled up. “Trail splits here. Which way?”
Bob studied the ground. They had been following several sets of tracks, now at the conjunction of two arroyos the trail divided. He made a random choice. “To the right; one is as good as another.”
They proceeded at a more sedate pace, riding in silence. Dick was morose; Bob tranquil. Lee had Dick’s explanation, and it satisfied and gladdened him. Good old Dick! Might have known he would never go over to the enemy without good cause.
The sun climbed high overhead, the heat from its rays reflected by hard packed soil and barren rock. The country was so rough as to be almost impassable, and finally Dick reined in.
“Bob, there’s no use of goin’ any farther. Let’s turn back.”
“It is pretty rough,” admitted Bob, “but we’ll stick to it a bit longer. Somebody came in here, and where they can go we can follow.”
He drew up sharply as the sound of iron on stone came to them from beyond a bend in the arroyo. His hand fell to the gun at his hip, then dropped as Ace came into view. The tall puncher halted at sight of them, then rode slowly forward, his eyes on Dick.
“Hello, Ace,” said Markley calmly.
“Howdy, Dick.” Ace’s eyes shifted to Bob. “I’m glad you happened along. I found somethin’ back here a ways that I want to show you.” He reined his horse about and waited for them to join him.
“I found somethin’ too,” Bob said, and passed over the empty shell. “Some one besides Dick shoots a forty-one. Found it at the spring. One of the rustlers must have taken time to reloa
d before you set ’em in motion.”
Ace examined the shell and returned it without comment, but his jaw muscles were set and his eyes narrow.
At the end of a half hour’s ride the arroyo debouched in a little green basin where the lush grass was watered by a flowing spring. “Right over there,” Ace said shortly, and found a pretext to fall slightly to the rear of Dick as they crossed to the place indicated.
Bob halted his horse and looked down on the blackened embers of a fire.
“There’s a corral back in them trees,” Ace told him. “I figger somebody’s been brandin’ stock in here right recent. Over by the spring is a set of tracks I want you to look at.” He sat his saddle still a bit to the rear of Dick, and his right hand lay on his thigh within inches of his sixgun.
Bob dismounted and crossed to the spring. The prints showed distinctly in the damp earth. He frowned and turned toward the two watching men. Passing behind Dick’s horse, he glanced at the tracks just made by that animal.
Dick suddenly exclaimed aloud and smacked hand on leg. “I got it! They are my tracks. I remember this place now. I was here yesterday lookin’ for strays. But that fire wasn’t here, and I didn’t see any corral.... Well, Bob, I’d better be gettin’ back to the Kady. After all, I’m drawin’ pay from Kurt Dodd for workin’ cattle. So long. Hope you catch the rustlers.”
“So long, Dick. Remember what I told you about that job.”
Ace raised an arm in farewell, but did not speak. When Markley had disappeared from view, he swung to the ground and carefully scanned a single plain track a few feet from the branding fire.
“What is it?” Bob asked curiously.
Ace got to his feet, managing as he did so to obliterate the print with one big foot. “Nothin’,” he said carelessly. “Just another track.”
“You know,” Bob told him, “Dick joined up with Dodd just to find out whether or not he is behind these doin’s.”
“Uh-huh,” answered Ace. He was a bit shaken. Dick had said the fire was not there the day before, and Dick had lied. For the wind had blown some ashes over the spot Ace had studied, and the hoof of Dick’s horse had ground those ashes into the earth.
Texas Men Page 5
