Sudden The Range Robbers (1930) s-9

by Oliver Strange

  `Shucks! No need for that, Snap,' returned Green. `What have them fellers got against yu?'

  The gunman shook his head. `I ain't sayin' a word but this : yu can count on me to the limit,' he said, and held out his hand. Green realised that he had made a useful friend.

  `Thank yu,' he said simply.

  They mounted and rode back to the ranch in silence. From time to time Green looked at the little man beside him. What a lot he could clear up if he would only speak. But the puncher knew that he would not speak--even after the cowardly attempt on his life--and respected him for his loyalty to his late confederates. For, of course, Green surmised that Snap had been one of the gang operating against the ranch, and that he had, for some reason, quarrelled with the others and quitted.

  Supper was in progress when they reached the bunkhouse, and Green, entering behind his companion, watched the foreman's face, and saw first the slight start of surprise, and then the contemptuous smile. Snap evidently also observed them.

  `Things is shore livenin' up in this neck o' the woods,' he remarked casually to the room in general as he took his seat. `A pair o' them Double X fellers tried to bush-whack me in The Gut this afternoon.'

  `Yu don't say! Who was they?' asked Simple.

  `Post Adams an' Dutch,' replied Lunt.

  `How'd yu know? Did yu see 'em?' queried Rattler.

  `Heard 'em,' said Lunt laconically. `Ventilated Dutch some, I reckon. One of 'em spoilt my lid, damn him!'

  `Good for yu,' commented Dirty. `What they pickin' on yu for, Snap?'

  The gunman looked the foreman full in the face. `Orders, I reckon,' he said coolly. `They ain't neither of 'em got guts enough to put up a play like that on their own.'

  `The Double X is gettin' too brash,' growled Dirty. `A lesson is about due.'

  `None o' that talk here, Dirty,' cut in the foreman. `We got enough on our hands without a range war. Snap can fight his own battles.'

  `Shore, an' he can have my help any time he wants it against ambushin' coyotes,' retorted the belligerent one.

  The meal over, Green drifted out to the corral, climbed the rail and sat there smoking. There was no moon, but the sky was like a dome of velvet strewn with diamonds. A light wind was blowing from the mountains, bringing a tang of the pine forests. From the bunkhouse came the murmur of voices, soft and blurred, broken by an occasional laugh. Behind him the horses moved slowly as they cropped the grass. It all seemed peaceful, and yet, in the midst of it, robbery and murder were being planned and carried out. He looked towards the lighted windows of the ranch, and found himself wondering what Noreen was doing. He did not see a shadow slide along the corral fence.

  `Stick 'em up,' growled a voice, and as he instinctively complied he looked into the barrel of a six-shooter, behind which was the laughing face of Larry. `Say, yo-re easy, ain't yu?' added that satisfied young man.

  `Shore,' replied Green, slipping his left heel from the corral bar over which it was hooked. Like a striking snake, his toe shot out and kicked the loosely-held weapon into the air. Then, with a flying leap, Green landed full on the other and they went to the ground together, Larry underneath.

  `Shore,' Green repeated. `I'm easy--roused,' and proceeded to enthusiastically push his friend's face into the soft dust. `Let up, yu--yu catamount,' spluttered a choking voice. `I've said "Uncle"--said it four times. Yu aimin' to bust my back, as well as my fingers?'

  Thus adjured, Green allowed him to rise, and having brushed the dust from his own person, performed nhe same kindly office for his friend with an energy which elicited another protest.

  `Aw right, don't yu trouble, feller,' Larry said. `I ain't no carpet. What yu usin'--a fence-rail?'

  `Only my hand,' came the reply.

  `Only yore hand,' snorted Larry. `Try the rail next time--I'd ruther.' He found his gun, rolled and lighted a cigarette, and took up a position on the corral fence. `For a busted nickel I wouldn't tell yu any news,' he announced.

  Green climbed up beside him. `Spill it,' he urged, `or Uncle will have to argue with yu some more.'

  Larry moved a little further away. `I've solved the mystery o' the rustlin',' he began solemnly. `The leaves is doin' it--every time the wind blows.' He dodged a back-handed blow which would have sent him into the corral, and added, `An' yu've been ridin' with the Pretty Lady. I'm agoin' to call yu "Don" in future--short for Don Juan, see?'

  `Quit yore foolin'; it's blame near time yu grew up,' retorted the other. `I don't care a cuss what yu call me, but I'd like to hear how yu knew about'--he hesitated--`the Pretty Lady.'

  `Rattler told me, an' all the others. He's shore doin' his damnedest to make yu popular.'

  Green was silent--thinking. He felt that he could fully trust this boy for whom he had conceived a liking at their first meeting. They had become friends since then, and under their bickering and banter was a sincere affection--though neither of them would have called it that. He soon made his decision.

  `I got somethin' to tell yu,' he said.

  `Speak on, Big Chief Cat o' the Mountains; I'm all ears,' Larry responded.

  `Damned if yu ain't too, pretty near,' grinned Green. `Well, never yu mind; slant them long listeners o' yores this way, an' don't interrupt.'

  In a low voice he proceeded to relate the humiliation of Snub, which was as yet news at the ranch!

  Blaynes had heard of it from the gambler, but for once had exercised discretion about the stranger, and kept the knowledge to himself, and none of the Y Z outfit had visited the town save Snap, who did not chatter. Larry punctuated the recital with profane expressions of delight. When Green went on to recite the rescue of Noreen, the boy fell silent. The story ended--and told, as it was, in the baldest way, it did not take long--he said softly: `Yu shore have the luck. I'm speakin' for the job of foreman, early an' prompt.'

  `What fool idea yu got in yore head now?' asked his friend. `Well,' replied Larry, `Ain't that the way it allus goes in the story-books? The han'some hero dashes out o' the blazin' ruins, bearin' the slender form o' the heroine, with the tears streamin' down her beautiful face, an--'

  `The tears'll be streamin' down yore by no means beautiful face an' yu'll be in good shape to figure as a blazin' ruin yoreself if yu don't stop talkin' drivel,' interrupted Green. `What do yu make o' Snap bein' stood up thataway?' He went on to tell of his own share in the affair.

  `Shore is an odd number,' Larry reflected. `Wonder what they split on? Pity he won't talk; but he's square, Snap is; I allus sort o' liked him.'

  `There's somethin' or somebody big behind it all,' Green said musingly. `It ain't just a common steal of a few cattle. Trouble is, we ain't got an atom o' proof. Well, it's no good a-worryin'.'

  `Not a bit,' responded Larry, and added the entirely irrelevant remark, `Say, Don, I hope yu get her.'

  `I hope yu get sense, yu chump,' drawled Green. `Do yu s'pose a girl like that would look twice at me? 'Sides, I ain't got no time for women. When this little tangle is straightened out, I gotta job that looks like keepin' me busy for a long time.'

  `If it's one that two can tackle, deal me a hand,' Larry said quickly.

  `Thank yu,' said his friend, and meant it.

  `Shucks!' came the ready reply. `I can keep my eye on that foreman's job thataway. S'long. It's me for the hay.'

  He slid into the gloom, leaving the older man still perched on the rail of the corral. Though he had not known it, the boy's light words had left a sting behind them. The cowpuncher's eyes turned involuntarily to the still-lighted windows of the ranch-house. Was it possible that a girl like that could ever come to care for such a man as he? The idea seemed absurd, and yet he dallied with it. The feel of her arms round his neck, though it had been necessary, and he knew she had hardly been conscious of what she was doing, remained an ever-present memory. The picture of a settled home, with a wife, and perhaps kiddies, was a powerful temptation to one who had spent years of his life as a wanderer, and alone. But he thrust it aside with an almost savage la
ugh at his own folly.

  `I'm gettin' soft,' he muttered. `An' there ain't no moon neither.'

  But he looked again at the ranch-house before he turned to seek his pillow.

  Chapter IX

  THE Frying Pan ranch lay to the west of the Y Z, the two ranges being separated by a narrow strip of broken country difficult to cross. But there were one or two gaps in the barrier in the shape of level stretches, one of them not far from the cabin where Bud had been done to death. For years the desirability of fencing these openings had been admitted by both owners, but nothing had been done, though the line-riders cursed the omission almost daily.

  The Frying Pan outfit had been busy for a week or more rounding up a herd to be trail-driven east to the nearest railway point of shipment. The result of their efforts, some five hundred head of cattle, was now gathered on an expanse of good grass only a few miles from the ranch-house, awaiting the final selection. It was a still, dark night, only a few stars were visible, and the animals were settling down contentedly. A lone rider, moving spectral-like on the outskirts of the herd, was intoning monotonously an utterly unprintable ballad. Suddenly came the howl of a coyote, and the rider pulled up and peered into the darkness. The sound seemed to come from ahead of him; a moment later came an answering cry which appeared to emanate from behind him.

  `Funny,' he muttered. `Must be a couple of 'em : even a coyote couldn't cover the ground in time. Them sweet accents didn't sound just alike neither. Gimme half a chance, yu prowlin' thieves, an' I'll hang yore grey hides on the fence.'

  He loosened his pistol in the holster and rode slowly on. Presently the blurred, indistinct mass of another horseman loomed up in the darkness, and the cowboy's right hand instinctively went to his gun.

  `That yu, Lucky?' he asked, and when no answer came, he added, `What's eatin' yu? Ain't afraid yu'll catch cold in yore insides if yu open that hole in yore face, are yu?'

  A low chuckle came in response and the blur waved an arm. A faint swish followed, and ere the cowboy could dodge the danger a loop dropped over his shoulders and he was yanked suddenly from his saddle. Even in the act of falling, however, he snatched out his gun and fired two rapid shots into the air. A second later a crashing blow from a pistol-barrel laid him senseless. Other riders instantly appeared out of the gloom.

  'Grit a move on,' said one of them. `Cut out as many as we can handle an' start the rest in the other direction. We gotta hustle; we shall have the whole darn crowd here soon, now this blamed fool has given the signal,' and he kicked the unconscious boy viciously in the ribs.

  With the expertness of men who knew their job the raiders got to work. A portion of the now uneasy herd was separated from the main bunch and driven in a north-easterly direction. It does not take much to turn a herd of contented cattle into a torrent of mad, unreasoning fear, a fact the rustlers were fully aware of. No sooner were the stolen beasts sufficiently far away than two of the riders returned, and with shouts and flapping saddle-blankets soon stampeded the already scared herd, sending it thundering olindly to the shout. They had barely accomplished this when madly pounding hoofs brought another horseman on the scene.

  `Charlie, where in 'ell are yu?' he called. `I heard yore signal. What's up?'

  Then he suddenly grasped that something was wrong, and with an oath, he jerked out his gun and fired. The spit of flame stabbed the darkness, and one of the raiders cursed. His companion, dropping his blanket, appeared to lift something from his saddle and raise his arm. Then came a peculiar twang, and the cowboy gasped and almost fell from his horse. But the instinct of a man who spends nearly all his waking hours in the saddle came to his aid, and gripping with weakening knees, he whirled the pony and headed for the ranch.

  `He won't never make it,' said one of the raiders. `Did he git yu?'

  'Creased my shoulder, blast him ! An' it's bleedin' like blazers, but it can wait; we gotta punch the breeze. C'mon.'

  Spurring their mounts in the direction taken by the rest of the band, they vanished in the night.

  Meanwhile the gallant little cow-pony, with its almost senseless burden, made unswervingly for home, and as though it understood the need for haste, never slackened speed until it slid to a stop in front of the bunkhouse door. One of those within, hearing the patter of hoof-beats, came out to see who was arriving. His shout brought the others. The senseless form, drooping over the saddlehorn, was lifted down, carried into the bunkhouse and laid on a bench. One of the men raced to fetch the boss.

  `Why, it's Lucky, an' he's got an arrow through his shoulder,' cried one. `What in 'ell's doin'?'

  Leeming, the owner of the Frying Pan, hurried in. Who is it, an' what's the trouble?' he asked.

  `It's Lomas, an' it shore looks as if there's trouble a-plenty,' replied Dirk Iddon, his foreman, who was bending over the wounded man.

  Cutting away the shirt and vest, he laid bare the wound, and disclosed the arrow buried to the feathered end in the white flesh, with the vicious barbed point protruding from the back.

  `That's a 'Pache war-shaft,' he commented.

  With deft tenderness, he snapped the shaft just below the feathers and turning the hurt man on his side, gripped the head of the arrow and drew it gently from the wound, which was then sponged and bandaged with care and thoroughness which would not have discredited a professional healer. Dirk had doctored many hurts, and some community lost a good physician when he ran wild and drifted to the West.

  `He's shore livin' up to his name, Lucky is,' remarked he, regarding his handiwork with satisfaction. `Couple o' inches lower down an' it would've been through the lung. As it is, he'll be as good as new in two-three weeks. How the 'ell he stayed on that hoss beats me.'

  The sick man's eyes fluttered and opened; he made an effort to sit up, only to sink back wearily. Dirk handed him a tot of whisky, holding it to his lips.

  `Tell us what happened, Lucky, if yu can,' he said.

  The strong, raw spirin, and the sound of the familiar voice of his foreman brought the cowboy back to consciousness, and gave him strength to speak.

  `Injuns,' he said. `Stampeded the herd. They musta got old Charlie. I heard shootin' an' bumped right into 'em; think I nicked one.'

  He sank back exhausted, oblivious to the tumult his information had aroused. Every man was furious, but the anger of Job Leeming exceeded them all. A shortish, choleric man, his violent outbursts of temper had made `the impatience of Job' a byword in the district. For the rest he was a square dealer and a good employer. At the moment he was almost beside himself.

  `Jump to it, boys,' he cried. `Hosses an' guns for all o' yu. Cook--where's than blasted cook? Oh, here yu are. Why in 'ell don't yu come when I call yu? Rustle some grub, pronto, an' then look after Lomas. We'll get these murderin' dogs if we have to foller 'em to the Pit.'

  `Shore we'll get 'em,' said Dirk. `We'll bring enough scalps to make Lucky a ha'r bridle.'

  In less than fifteen minutes a dozen men were racing for the spot where the herd had been. They soon reached it, and scattered to search for the missing cowboy. It was Dirk who happened upon the huddled, prostrate form; at his call, Leeming and the others came scampering up. The foreman knelt and examined the injured man, his fingers encountering a sticky smear of blood across the forehead.

  `Show a light, somebody,' he said.

  The flame of several manches revealed the extent of the damage.

  `Roped him an' knocked him cold with a gun,' stated Dirk. `He ain't hurt bad--his head must be made o' granite, I reckon. I'll do what I can.'

  Under his ministrations the patient came to, and in a faltering voice confirmed the foreman's theory of what had taken place. `I thought the blamed sky had dropped on me,' he said. `I shore saw all the stars there is.'

  Held in the saddle by another of the outfit, he was also despatched to the care of Cookie at the ranch-house, and having attended to the wants of his wounded, Leeming now felt that he was at liberty to take up his own affairs. Here a difficulty presented
itself. Even in the faint light of the early dawn it was possible to see what had happened, and Dirk, who had been carefully scanning the tracks, summed up the situation.

  `They've gone nor-east with a bunch o' cattle, headin' for Big Chief, an' they stampeded the rest o' the herd in the opposite direction. Chances is, they've left four times as many as they lifted. What yu aim to do about it?'

  `We'll have to split,' Leeming said. `Yu take five o' the boys an' follow the 'Paches; the rest of us will round up the herd. I'd come with yu, but we can't both leave the ranch, an' yo're too darned good at readin' sign to leave behind. How many do yu figure they got?'

  `Tidy bunch--near a hundred, I guess,' Dirk replied. `Means one thing--they'll travel all the slower with that lot; we oughtta come up with 'em, spite o' the start they got.'

  `Shoot every one o' the durn copper-coloured thieves when yu do,' snorted the other, adding a string of lurid oaths as he turned away to commence the wearisome task of collecting the scattered herd. To describe him as an angry man would be putting it very mildly indeed. At least a week's work destroyed in a single night, and all to be done again, to say nothing of the probable loss of about five-score valuable beasts; for though he would not admit it even to himself, Job had little hope that his steers would be recovered. He knew but too well the wildness of the country, and the many hiding-places it afforded a cunning predator.

  That this raid, like the one on his neighbour, was the work of Indians, he did not doubt for an instant, and with the white man's instinctive hatred for the redskin, his resentment was the greater.

  Late on the afternoon of the following day the foreman of the Y Z strode into the bunkhouse with a look of malicious triumph on his face.

  `Green, the Old Man wants to see yu, pronto,' he said. `The Injuns have got away with a big steal o' Frying Pan cows, an' "Old Impatience" is up there a-raisin' Cain.'

  If he expected the cowpuncher to ask for any details he was disappointed; Green simply nodded and went out. At the ranch-house he found Simon and Leeming in the big living-room, the latter pacing up and down, and evidently in a state of eruption. Simon plunged at once into the business.