Robber's Roost (1989)

by Grey, Zane

  "But we don't want Heeseman trailin' us," expostulated Hays.

  "You mean after we pull the deal?" queried Brad, incredulously.

  "Shore I mean after."

  "Wal, what in thunderation do we give a damn for him, when we've got the coin an' on our way to thet roost we're due to find?"

  "I don't just like the idee, fellers," replied Hays, evasively.

  Jim Wall, studying the robber leader closely, imagined that Hays was not exposing all the details of his plot.

  "Aw, to hell with Heeseman, before or after!" exclaimed Smoky.

  "Let's put my idee to a vote."

  When this suggestion was solemnly complied with, making use of the deck of cards, it was found that Slocum had won.

  "So far so good," said Hays, as if relieved. "Now let's see. . . .

  Smoky, tomorrow you take your gang, includin' Brad, an' quit. Pack a slue of grub an' grain, an' hide out below. Cache what you don't need. I'll go to Grand Junction for new hands. See? But all I'll come back with will be instructions for you to follow. Then you can go drivin'."

  "Good! An' how about the cash?"

  "Wal, them buyers won't pay me in advance, you can gamble on thet.

  But they'll pay you. Just divide with your outfit an' save our share."

  "Short an' sweet. I like it more all the time," declared Smoky.

  The trust imposed upon him sat lightly. Jim had no doubt of his honesty with his leader and comrades. Herein lay another reason for the loyalty to Hays. The robber began to loom to Jim.

  "We'll want to know where your camp is," went on Hays. "Reckon I'd better ride out with you tomorrow."

  "No. You rustle for Grand Junction. We'll see thet Happy an' Jim know where to find our camp."

  Jim thought of something. "Men, has it occurred to you that you can't drive cattle up this road and through the ranch?"

  "Shore. No need. It'd be a seventy-mile drive if we came this way. But we'll drive round by Limestone, an' up the other valley road. About the same distance to Grand."

  "Air we forgettin' anythin'?" muttered the leader, his big eyes staring into space.

  "Nothin' but Heeseman," croaked Lincoln.

  "Wal, there are a couple of more things, but we needn't go into them now," responded the leader. He slid several cigars into his vest pocket, and throwing the box upon the table he said: "Divide 'em even. An' I hope it won't be your last dollar smoke."

  The conference ended. Hays turned to the open fire, and seeking a seat in the shadow by the chimney, he pondered. It was Jim's opinion that the chief had vastly more on his mind than he had divulged. Lincoln gave him a suspicious stare. The others seemed eminently pleased with the outlook, though no more was said in Jim's hearing. They joked and smoked.

  "Let's play noseys," suggested Happy Jack. A howl of protest and derision went up from half those present.

  "I'd play for two-bits a card, but not just to have my beak all red," said Smoky.

  "What kind of game is noseys?" asked Jim, curiously.

  "Set in with Happy an' see."

  "What's it like, Happy?"

  "Wall, it's better'n poker, any day," replied Happy Jack. "Takes as good playin'. A hell of a lot more guts. An' doesn't lose you much money. . . . You deal three cards around. First feller left of dealer leads. You have to follow suit. If you can't you draw off the deck till you can. High card, of course, takes trick.

  When the deck's all drawn you have to eat the card led. Thet is you take it up an'. . . . But come an' let me show you."

  "Not me. I want to know where the noseys come in."

  "Wal, whoever gets left with any cards, even one, is the loser.

  An' everybody gets three whacks at his nose with three cards only.

  Also he has to pay two-bits to every player for each card he's left with."

  "Fine game for this outfit," laughed Jim.

  "Shore there air a lot of big beaks to beat. It's the fightenest game you ever seen."

  Jim bade them good-night and went out. His last glimpse of Hays was thought-provoking. Lighting another cigar, which he vowed would be the last of his smoking for a while, Jim strolled up and down the porch, revolving in mind the conference.

  It was a spring night, starry, with an edge on the mountain air that meant frost in the morning. Coyotes were barking. And there came another sound which never failed to rend--the peeping of spring frogs. Plaintive, sweet, they probed the deeps of memory.

  Jim did not like the night so well as the day. And although he had crossed the Rubicon, had involved his word and meant to see this deal through, he liked it less and less. Was it possible that this lantern-eyed robber had evil intentions toward Herrick's sister?

  Jim scouted the suspicion. Certainly, if the man was susceptible to women, he would react normally under favorable conditions. But to plot more than he had expressed, to involve his men in something vastly worse than the mere stealing of a herd of cattle, to betray them with murder and abduction--No! this Hank Hays was too big a man for that. He had the loyalty of his band. And yet--

  "Damn the girl part of it, anyhow," he muttered, flinging his half- smoked cigar out into the noisy brook. Why did a woman have to come along to upset the best-laid plans of men?

  Jim went to his comfortable bed up under the dark pines, and lay awake in the shadows, listening to the whispers about him. The very rocks seemed to have voices. Nature had endowed Jim with sensitiveness and life had dealt him iron. The harder he grew the more this secret, deeply-hidden faculty of feeling had to be resisted.

  The next morning brought sombre faces and action. Five of Hays' outfit rode away with six of the pack horses and most of the supplies. Hays watched them until they disappeared among the cedars.

  "Wal, now I'll brace the boss," he said.

  "What excuse will you give him?"

  "Anythin' would do to tell Herrick. But Heeseman will see through me, I'm afeared."

  "Very well. You tell Herrick that your outfit split over me."

  "Over you--? dog-gone! That ain't so poor. But why?"

  "Both Slocum and Lincoln are sort of touchy about gun-throwing, aren't they? Well, tell him how queer that brand of gunmen is--how he instinctively hates the real gunman. And that Slocum and Lincoln made you choose between them and me. You chose me and they rode off with their pards."

  "Ahuh. Sort of so the idea will get to Heeseman's ears that in a pinch with guns I'd rather have you backin' me than them?"

  "Exactly. Only elaborate it. Herrick won't understand, so the more mysterious you make it the better."

  Not long afterward Hays returned to the cabin jubilant. "You'd never guess, Jim. That Englisher laughed like the very devil. An' he ordered me to ride off after some desperadoes who're not afraid of Jim Wall."

  "Ha! Ha! But Heeseman won't get a laugh out of it."

  "See here. Don't fetch things to a ruction with him."

  "I'll steer clear, Hays. But if Heeseman should happen to brace me--"

  "Shoot the lights out of him," interrupted Hays, fiercely. "Wal, I'm off for Grand. Happy, pack me a snack of grub."

  "How long will it take you to ride over?"

  "Eight hours, I reckon. An' I'll be back tomorrow night."

  "Won't take you long, then, to make connection with your buyers?"

  "Wal, I should smile not."

  "Excuse my curiosity, boss, but I can't help wondering how you can establish connection so quickly, since you claim you are not a rustler."

  "Thet's my affair, Jim. But I'll tell you some day."

  "Certainly these buyers will know you're selling stolen cattle?"

  "Oh, shore."

  After Hays had gone Jim settled himself to pass the hours away.

  "Mebbe it won't be so tedious," observed Happy Jack, dryly. "We've got three rifles an' a sack of shells right handy. So let 'em come."

  Jim half expected a visit from Herrick, but the morning dragged by without any sign of anyone. About mid-afternoon, however, six riders
appeared coming down the lane along the bench. The sight made Jim start. How often had he seen the like--a compact little company of riders, dark-garbed, riding dark horses! It was tremendously suggestive to a man of his experience.

  "Come here, Jack," called Jim. "Take a squint down the road."

  Happy Jack looked. "Wal, they're comin' shore enough. Reckon I'd better have a peep at our supper. It might burn."

  Jim reached inside the door and, drawing out his rifle, he advanced to the front of the porch, where he leaned carelessly against a post. When the group of riders reached the point where the lane crossed the brook, just out of pistol range, they halted, and one, evidently the leader, came on to the bridge.

  "Hi, thar!" he yelled, reining his horse.

  "Hi, yourself!" shouted back Jim.

  "Is this your day fer visitors?"

  "We're at home every day and Sundays."

  The man, whom, of course, Jim took to be Heeseman, walked his horse half the intervening distance and stopped again. Jim's swift eye ascertained that the caller's rifle-sheath was empty, a significant fact. It was still too far away to see what he looked like, but he had stature, and the figure of a man used to the saddle.

  At this juncture Happy Jack emerged from the cabin and carelessly propped a rifle against the wall.

  "Who's callin'?" he boomed.

  "I don't know," replied Jim.

  "I'm Bill Heeseman, an' I come over to talk," called the visitor.

  "Friendly talk?" queried Jim.

  "Wal, if it ain't you'll be to blame."

  "Come right over."

  The five men left behind over the brook puffed their cigarettes and turned dark faces to watch their leader dismount and walk unconcernedly along the path.

  Jim leaned his rifle against the rail and stood aside. Heeseman did not look up as he mounted the steps. He took off an old sombrero to disclose the tanned, clear-skinned face of a man under forty, with narrow blue eyes reddened by wind and dust. It was a more open visage than Jim had expected to see. Certainly Heeseman was a more prepossessing man, at first sight, than Hays.

  "Mind if I set down?" he asked.

  "Make yourself at home," replied Jim, and while the other sat down Jim took a less suspicious posture.

  "Air you Wall?"

  "Yes, that's my name. And this is Happy Jack, another of Hays' outfit."

  Heeseman nodded to Jack, who replied with a civil, "Howdy!" and went back into the cabin. Then Heeseman leaned against the wall and treated Jim to a frank, shrewd gaze, which yet was not unmixed with steely speculation. Jim did not feel any revulsion toward the man, but he knew the cold, curious glint of that look.

  "You're Hays' right-hand man, just late from Wyomin'?"

  "Last is correct, anyhow."

  "Old pards? Hays has roamed around a good bit."

  "Not so old."

  "Do you KNOW him?" queried Heeseman, in lower voice.

  "Perhaps not so well as you," replied Jim, who suddenly reminded himself that he knew Hays but slightly.

  "I'm goin' to tell you somethin'."

  "Heeseman, you'll only waste your breath," declared Jim, impatiently. That was the thing to say, but he was impatient with himself.

  "Wal, I don't waste much of thet," drawled the other. "But if you wasn't new to Utah I'd save myself this trouble. An' you're goin' to believe what I tell you."

  "Why will I?"

  "Because it's true."

  No argument could gainsay that; moreover, the man had truth in his blue slits of eyes, in his voice, especially in the slight unevenness, which hinted of resentment or justice.

  "Did Hays tell you I was a rustler?"

  "I think he mentioned it."

  "Did he tell you we was pards once? . . . That he double-crossed me?"

  "No."

  "Can you swear honest thet what I say doesn't make you think?"

  "I couldn't swear that honestly," returned Jim, intensely interested despite the antagonism he had determined upon.

  "Wal, I'll let it go at thet," returned Heeseman, coolly. "Much obliged for lettin' me come up. An' if you get curious, just ride over to see me."

  He rose, stretched his long length, and walked off the porch to mount his horse, leaving Jim about as surprised as he had ever been. Happy Jack came out in time to see him join his comrades and ride back with them toward the corrals.

  "Short visit. Glad it was. What'd he want?"

  "Darn if I savvy, altogether. Didn't you hear any of our talk?"

  "No. I reckoned the less I heard the better. Then Hank couldn't razz me. But I had a hunch of what he was up to."

  Jim did not press the question. He carried his rifle back into the cabin, rather ashamed of his over-haste and feeling already curious enough to call on Heeseman. Later, Happy Jack went hunting in the hope of packing in a haunch of venison. Jim had the place to himself until sunset, when the cook returned, staggering under his load.

  "Like shootin' cows," he said, depositing his load. "Got a nice fat buck. I skinned out a ham an' hung up the rest. We'll take a hoss tomorrow an' pack it down."

  They had supper, after which Jack smoked and talked, while Jim listened. Evidently Happy Jack had taken a liking to him. Jim went to bed early, not because he was sleepy, but to keep from calling on that fellow, Heeseman.

  How many nights Jim Wall had lain down under the dark trees to wakefulness, to the thronging thoughts that must mock the rest of any man who had strayed from the straight and narrow path! It tormented him at certain times. But that never kept the old concentrated pondering over tomorrow from gaining control of his consciousness. Men of his type made a complexity of self- preservation.

  There had been no hesitation about Hank Hays declaring himself in regard to Heeseman. Callous, contemptuous; Hays had indicated the desirability of ridding the range of Heeseman. But Heeseman had been subtle.

  Unquestionably his motive had been to undermine Hays in Jim's regard. And a few questions, and an assertion or two, had had their effect. Jim made the reservation that he had not accepted Hays on anything but face value. Still, the robber had gradually built up a character of intent force, cunning, and strength. These had crashed, though there was no good reason for that. Jim had not accepted Hays' word for anything.

  Reduced to finalities, Jim found that Heeseman's last suggestive statement was at the bottom of the trouble. Not that Hays had been a rustler partner of Heeseman, not that he had been or was still a Mormon, but that he was not a square partner! This stuck in Jim's craw.

  Why this seemed true puzzled Jim. He knew nothing about Mormons.

  And now he guessed they were secretive. Heeseman had simply verified a forming but still disputed suspicion in Jim's mind--that Hank Hays had evil designs upon Herrick's sister. Heeseman and Hays had probably known for weeks that this English girl was expected to arrive.

  Suppose he had! What business was that of Jim's? None, except that he now formed one of Hays' band and as such had a right to question activities. Rustling cattle, at least in a moderate way, was almost a legitimate business. Ranchers back to the early days of the cattle drives from Texas had accepted their common losses.

  It had been only big steals that roused them to ire and action, to make outlaws out of rustlers. Nevertheless, it was extremely doubtful, out here in the wilds of Utah, that even a wholesale steal would be agitating. To abduct a girl, however, might throw Western interest upon the perpetrators. Hays' object assuredly was to collect ransom. In that case he would be pretty much of a hog.

  Still, that had not been Heeseman's intimation, nor had it been Jim's original suspicion. He gave it up in disgust. Time would tell. But he did not feel further inclined to call upon Heeseman.

  He would stick to Hays, awaiting developments.

  The ensuing day passed uneventfully. No one of Smoky's outfit showed up, nor did Hays return. Jim waited for Herrick to give him orders, which were not forthcoming. The rancher was chasing jack rabbits and coyotes with the hounds.

/>   Next morning Jim made it a point to ride over to the barns. The rancher came down in a queer costume. The red coat took Jim's eye.

  A motley pack of hounds and sheep-dogs was new to Jim, as he had not seen or heard any dogs about the ranch. Jim was invited to ride along with Herrick and the several cowboys. They went by Heeseman's camp, which was vacant. Jim was to learn that the rancher had put the Heeseman outfit to work on the cutting and peeling of logs up on the slope, preparatory to the erection of a new barn.

  Jack rabbits were as thick as bees. The cowboys led the dogs, which soon became unmanageable and bolted. Then the race was on.

  Where the ground was level and unobstructed by brush or cut up by washes Herrick did fairly well as to horsemanship, but in rough going he could not keep to the English saddle. He would put his horse at anything and he had two falls, one pretty jarring.

  "Boss, shore as the Lord made little apples you'll kill yourself with thet pancake," said one of the long-legged cowboys, most solicitously.

  "You are alluding to my saddle?" queried Herrick, standing to be brushed off.

  "Thet's no saddle. It's a pancake," was the reply.

  Then ensued a most interesting argument which Herrick, despite his persistence, certainly lost. He appealed to Jim.

  "Mr. Herrick, in this rough country you want a cow-saddle," replied Jim. "You see, aside from heavy cinches and stirrups, and room to tie your rope, canteen, rifle-sheath, saddle-bags, and slicker, or even a pack, you want something to stick on. For so much of the riding is up and down steep hills."

  Notwithstanding this, Herrick finished out the hunt. He was funny and queer, but he was game, and Jim liked him. On the way back Jim amused the Englishman by shooting running jack rabbits with his Colt. He managed to kill three out of five, to Herrick's infinite astonishment and admiration.

  "By Jove! I never saw such marksmanship," he ejaculated.

  "That was really poor shooting."

  "Indeed! What would you call good shooting, may I ask?"

  "Well, riding by a post and putting five bullets into it. Or splitting the edge of a card at twenty feet."

  "Let me see your gun?"

  Jim Wall broke his rule when he handed it over, butt first.