Oliver Strange - Sudden Westerns 01 - The Range Robbers(1930)

by Oliver Strange

  “She ain’t all like this, but there’s enough that is,’ Durran replied. “She’d be one big ranch if the owner knew his job.’

  “I heard he was a good cattleman,’ Green said.

  “Yu heard correct—he was a good cattleman; but he started gittin’ old quite a piece ago, an’ it’s tellin’ on him. Why, there’s cows bein’ stole every week, an’ he don’t do nothin’. If it wasn’t for Rattler, them rustlers would ‘a got the whole shootin’ match by now.’

  “Good man, Rattler, eh?’ queried Green.

  “Yu said it,’ responded Durran, but with no undue enthusiasm in his tone. “Up to his work. Yes, sir. An’ it wouldn’t astonish me none to find him ownin’ this ranch some day. I’ve a hunch it’ll pay to tie to him.’

  They had left the undulating plain and were entering a stretch of rough country which, gashed and scarred, formed the base to a great range of hills, the jagged ridge-line of which showed clear against the sky. The ground in front of them presented a multiplicity of character. Miniature deserts, arid little areas of sand and cactus, interspersed with brush-filled draws, tiny canyons with verdure-clad, overhanging sides, valleys carpeted with lush grass and fed by trickling streams, huge masses of rock, apparently hurled by some mighty hand from the distant range, all jumbled together in inextricable confusion. And behind it all the black belt of pines which clothed the lower slopes of the mountains.

  “Best keep yer eyes open, in case we git separated,’ warned Durran. “We call this the Maze, an’ it’s a damned sight easier to git into than out of, ‘specially for a stranger.’

  “Reckon yo’re right,’ Green agreed. “What do they call the hills over there?’

  “Big Chief Range,’ replied Durran. “An’ mighty mean country ‘cept for redskins an’ rustlers.’

  They now began to come upon signs of strayed cattle, and were too fully occupied in routing them out of the brush and starting them back to the plain for converse. Green soon discovered that his mount, though obviously new to the work, had the inherited instincts of a cowpony, and was quick to learn.

  “Yu an’ me is goin’ to get along fine, Blue,’ the rider soliloquized after a tussle with a pugnacious steer which had to be roped and thrown before it would listen to reason. This was by no means the only incident of the kind, for the strays were in a half-wild state, and showed a tendency to “go on the prod’ when driven from their retreat.

  Presently, riding through a small grassy glade surrounded by cottonwoods, Green pulled up sharply. At his feet lay a dead cow, and a few yards away were the ashes of a tiny fire. His hail brought Durran to the spot.

  “Paches,’ he said at once, pointing to a broken feather, lying as though accidentally dropped, near the carcase. The new hand picked it up and examined it thoughtfully.

  “Ain’t like Injuns to leave their name and address,’ he said slowly. “Nor meat either.’

  “Huh! They was interrupted an’ had to make a quick getaway,’ suggested Durran.

  Green was examining the dead cow. It had been shot in the head, and round the bullet-hole the hair was singed.

  “So they fired that shot to advertise their whereabouts,’ he said. “No, that don’t explain it.’

  “Well, that war-bonnet plume talks plenty loud enough for me,’ returned Durran, with a dark look. “Fac’s is fac’s.’ Green saw that the man’s mind was made up, and that argument would be futile, so he dropped the subject. He could not fail to note, however, that Durran’s attitude for the rest of the day was a sulky one; apparently he resented the questioning of his judgment, and his conversation was confined to the work in hand.

  It was getting towards evening when they returned to the ranch, and they were as hungry as a day in the saddle can make a man. Nevertheless, Green rode past the bunkhouse and up to the owner’s dwelling. Old Simon was on the verandah. He listened quietly to the new hand’s report, looked at the feather, and Len said :

  “Yu got any ideas about it?’

  I’m guessin’ it ain’t ‘Paches, but they want us to think it is,’ Green replied. “That feather is plumb clumsy—even a Reservation brave ain’t that careless. An’ what was the fire for? Injuns don’t carry runnin’-irons. ‘Sides, the hosses they rode was shod, even the grass trail showed that.’

  “Yu didn’t follow the tracks?’

  “No,’ explained Green. “Durran didn’t seem interested, an’ I had no orders.’

  The old man regarded him steadily for a while, and then said, ‘Yo’re gettin’ ‘em now. I want this rustler business cleaned up. That’s yore job.’

  “Better not advertise it,’ suggested Green.

  “I ain’t a-goin to; I’ll explain to Blaynes that yo’re on special work for me,’ said the rancher.

  Green had his own ideas as to the importance Blaynes would attach to his employer’s explanation, and he was soon to learn that he was right, for at that moment the foreman came up. There was a note of triumph in his tone as he said:

  “Well, Simon, Durran tells me that he come upon some more rustler work, with shore Injun sign; I reckon that settles it.’

  “Green’s just been tellin’ me he come on it,’ said Old Simon quietly.

  “Well, they was together anyway,’ replied Rattler, with a surly glance at the new hand. “Durran reported to me as foreman, which was the proper thing to do.’

  “Green agrees with me that it ain’t Injuns,’ said the ranch-owner, “an’ I think he’s right.’

  “So do I,’ retorted Blaynes. “If I’d just been took on, an’ wanted to hold my job, I’d agree with the boss every time.’

  A sneering smile accompanied the words. Green heard the taunt unmoved, his face like granite. Old Simon laughed. “Have it yore way, Blaynes. Yu say it’s Injuns. All right, fetch in their scalps, an’ I’ll believe yu. By the way, Green’ll be doin’ what I say for a bit. Savvy?’

  The foreman nodded, and the two men walked towards the bunkhouse. The foreman was the first to break the silence. “Yu shore are in luck,’ he remarked acidly, “to get a fine hoss an’ a soft job all in twenty-four hours.’

  “Did the Old Man tell yu it was a soft job?’ queried Green sweetly.

  “That’s what I’d call moseyin’ around pertendin’ to look for rustlers,’ retorted Blaynes.

  “So would I,’ replied the other. “But there ain’t no rustlers, so it’ll be a hard job to find any. Yore way of it the Injuns are stockin’ the Reservation with Y Z cows. Why don’t yu pay the agent a visit?’

  Blaynes made no reply to this pleasantry. Supper was nearly over when they entered the bunkhouse, but with the foreman there, the harassed cook knew better than to make any fuss over producing fresh supplies. Green soon learned that the news of his treatment of Poker Pete had become known, and had been received variously by the men. Some of the younger did not scruple to hide their hearty approbation.

  “On’y hope yu ain’t scared ‘im off the reservation,’ was Dirty’s comment. “He owes me money, that hombre.’

  “Don’t yu worry none,’ said one of the older men, whose semi-Indian origin and dark skin had earned for him the name of Nigger.’

  “If Pete owed a feller anythin’, he gets it.’

  The speaker directed a malicious glance at Green as he said the words, but the new hand appeared to be entirely occupied with his plate. Nevertheless, he had heard, and sensed that the threat was intended for him.

  “Aw, hell! I reckon the old tinhorn will drift,’ said another of the younger group, whose name being Simon, found himself promptly re-christened “Simple,’ to distinguish him from the Old Man.

  The wrangle went on, and it became more and more evident that the disgraced gambler had friends in the outfit. Green refused to be drawn into the discussion. His meal finished, he rolled a cigarette and slipped outside, after a glance at Larry which was an invitation. Strolling down to the corral, he climbed the rail, and sat there smoking. Presently Barton joined him.

  “Well, what do y
u think o’ the bunch?’ he asked, when he had perched himself alongside his friend.

  “Yu heard the story o’ the curate’s egg?’ asked Green.

  “Shore, yu’ve said it: good in parts,’ replied Larry, with a chuckle. “So yu’ve been elecned to collect the rustlers’ ha’r, eh?’

  “Who told yu?’ Green asked quickly.

  “Oh, Rattler ain’t makin’ any secret of it,’ was the reply. “I somehow got the idea he don’t like yu.’

  “I’ve a dim suspicion myself thataway,’ returned the new hand easily; “but I don’t guess I’ll lose any sleep over it.’

  “Wish the Old Man would let me trail along with yu,’ Larry said wistfully. “I know the country, an’ yu don’t; I reckon I’d be useful.’

  “Shore yu would, an’ if I want any help I’ll ask for yu,’ Green said. “In the meantime, keep yore eyes an’ ears open; it wouldn’t surprise me none if the bunkhouse was a good place to look.’

  Chapter IV

  On the following morning Green saddled the roan and made his way to the spot where he had found the dead cow, intending to take up the trail from there. To his astonishment, he found that the carcass had disappeared, and the original tracks were hopelessly blurred by a number of others leading in all directions.

  “They have certainly got quick news of my appointment,’ he muttered.

  As he sat there surveying the scene in puzzled cogitation, an arrow transfixed his sombrero, snatching it from his head. Instantly he rode straight for the clump of brush from which it seemed to come. He was too late; a crackling in the undergrowth, a shrill whoop, and then the thud of galloping hoofs told him that the hidden assassin had escaped. He returned for his hat and carefully examined the missile.

  “Apache, all right, an’ a war-shaft at that,’ he commented. “But a brave on his first scout wouldn’t have missed such an easy mark at that range. No, gents, I ain’t right convinced o’ that redskin theory even now.’

  Behind the bush from which the arrow had come he found the grass trodden down and several cigarette ends; the bushwhacker had clearly waited some time, and had been careless too. The marks of his flight were apparent, and also told a story.

  “No, sir, braves don’t wear boots in this neck o’ the woods,’ the cowboy soliloquized.

  Leading his horse, he followed the trail for a few hundred yards; then it ceased, and hoofprints told that the unknown had there mounted and continued his flight over a stretch of hard, rocky ground, which showed no tell-tale tracks. For an hour Green searched painstakingly, bun without success. Then he headed straight across the baffling barrier in the direction of the frowning slopes of the Big Chief Range.

  Midday found him traversing some of the wildest country he had ever seen, and he began to realize the magnitude of the task before him. Deep, thickly-wooded valleys, brush-tangled gullies, pine-covered rocky ridges succeeded one another in bewildering confusion, and over all the sullen peaks of the Big Chief towered in solemn majesty.

  “It’s a man’s job, all right,’ he said. “I reckon yu could lose an army here, an’ not be too awful careless at that.’ He plodded on for another hour, and presently emerged on the bank of a little stream beside which stood a rude log shack with a sodded roof from which a trickle of smoke ascended. He had come upon the place so unexpectedly that he could not hope to have escaped observation, so he adopted a bold policy and rode up to the door.

  “Hello, the house!’ he called.

  A man instantly appeared in the doorway, rifle in hand. He was a tough-looking customer, with black beady eyes which scanned the visitor with suspicious care.

  “Howdy,’ he said, and waited.

  “I’m from the Y Z,’ Green said, knowing that the brand on his mount had told this already.

  “I got eyes,’ came the retort. “New hand, I s’pose. Ain’t yu strayed off yore range quite a piece?’

  “Oh, I reckon I’m lost all right,’ laughed Green.

  ‘Light an’ eat,’ said the other.

  The interior of the cabin was as primitive as the outside. A rude, home-made table, two or three stools, and a pallet bed comprised the furniture. A pick, shovel and a gold-digger’s pan stood in one corner.

  “Washin’, eh?’ Green asked, with a glance at the implements. “Gettin’ much?’

  “Well, it ain’t nothin’ to advertise,’ the man replied, “but it pays better’n punchin’ cows.’

  “It don’t have to be a bonanza to do that,’ laughed the cowboy. “Don’t see much company, I reckon.’

  ‘Yo’re the first in two weeks,’ was the answer.

  The meal dispatched, the two men smoked in silence for a while. Then Green remarked casually:

  “Redskins bother yu any?’

  The man’s eyes narrowed for a moment, and there was the barest hesitation before he said, “Naw, I treat ‘em right an’ mind my own business. Don’t see much of ‘em: two or three braves now an’ then—aimin’ to borry a few o’ yore steers, I guess; but that’s yore lookout.’

  “That’s so,’ agreed Green, joining in the laugh that followed. “Means a job for chaps like me, eh?’

  “Shore; puttin’ it thataway, the Injun’s some good, which I never did expect to think,’ grinned the other.

  “Preachers say everythin’ was made for a purpose, even rattlesnakes, but I’m blamed if I can find any use for them,’ Green remarked, and then added casually, “I’m told there’s another ranch up here somewhere, the Double X.’

  A look of alertness illumined the not-too-clean features of his host for a brief moment, and then he said slowly: “I’ve heard of it, but I ain’t been there; it’s way back in the hills, an’ I ain’t nohow interested in cattle at present.’

  The conversation languished, and after a while the visitor rose and said, “Well, I got to be driftin’. Which way do I go for the Y Z?’

  “Cross the stream and head due south—there ain’t no depth o’ water just now. Less’n half an hour yu’ll strike the trail to Hatchett’s.’

  With a word of thanks, Green mounted his animal and forded the creek. As he vanished among the trees he looked round, saw the miner watching him, and waved his hand.

  “An’ that ain’t a good-bye, old-timer,’ he muttered. “Yu an’ me is goin’ to meet again, or I miss my guess. That minin’ outfit was considerable rusty for recent use, an’ I’m bettin’ high yu couldn’t produce an ounce o’ dust nohow.’ He found the trail, and giving Blue the rein, headed for the ranch. It proved a longish ride, and darkness was coming on when he unsaddled, turned the horse into the corral, and made his way to the bunkhouse. The men were at supper, and Green caught what he was looking for an expression of surprise on the faces of the foreman, Durran, and several of the older men.

  “Hello, Green!’ greeted Larry. “Rattler was sayin’ yu was shore lost, or Blue had “piled” yu, or

  “I’d been snatched to glory by a blue-eyed angel with white wings,’ suggested the late-comer with a smile. “Well, as a matter o’ fact, I did get lost; this is shore a discouragin’ country for strangers.’

  “Them as don’t mind their own business are liable to find it so,’ put in Blaynes. “Get any rustlers?’

  Green laughed easily. “Nary one; those interestin’ animiles seem to be amazin’ shy in these parts. I found a miner, though.’

  A look of quick suspicion came into the foreman’s eyes, and then he said carelessly: “Old Nugget, I s’pose. He’s loco. Hope yu searched him to see if he’d got any steers hidden in his clothes.’

  The men laughed gaily at the joke, and Green joined in; he did not want any open breach with Blaynes. Later, he got a chance to question Larry about the prospector.

  “Oh, he’s a harmless old piker,’ replied the cowboy, with a touch of contempt in his tone. “Been pannin’ the streams around here for years, an’ if he gets “color” now an’ then, he’s happy. Never seen him at the ranch; but he goes into town for supplies. An’ now I come to think of it, I’ve
seen him powwowin’ with Poker Pete, but we’ve all done that.’ Green considered for a moment and, having determined that Larry was to be trusted, told the story of the missing cow and the ambush. The boy’s eyes widened as he listened.

  “Don’t that beat hell?’ was his astonished comment. “An’ smart too. Say, this ain’t no one man job. Why not tell Old Simon, an’ ask for me as a side-partner?’

  Green shook his head. “I’m layin’ low for a bit. Yu keep all I’ve told yu behind yore face,’ he said. “I’m relyin’ on yu now; but we got work both ends. ‘Nother thing. Don’t let on that we’re too friendly; we don’t want ‘em to get suspicious o’ yu.’

  “Rattler don’t love me none as it is,’ Larry said. “I’d have asked for my time months ago but for…’

  “Shore; but don’t tell me—I might be surprised,’ interrupted his friend, with a grin. “Well, don’t yu care. A fellow can’t tell what’s in the pack till the cards is turned.’

  “Some fellers can’t; yu seem to be able to,”Larry retorted.

  “Easy enough with tinhorns like Poker Pete, but when Mother Fate is a-dealin’ it’s a hoss of a different color. Know anythin’ about Old Simon?’

  “Mighty little,’ was the reply. “He settled here with his girl soon after the gold-diggin’s petered out, but I never heard where he come from. That must be about eighteen years ago.’

  “His daughter don’t favor him much,’ Green said reflectively.

  “Much?’ cried Larry indignantly. “She ain’t a mite like him. How could she be? Old Simon never fell out of a picture-book.’ Green shook with silent mirth. “Yu certainly are easy,’ he chuckled. “The little feller with the bow an’ arrows has got yu thrown an’ tied shore enough.’

  “An’ another feller with a bow an’ arrow’ll lay yu out cold an’ stiff if yu ain’t careful,’ retorted the boy, whose red face showed that the blow had gone home. “Joking on one side, Green, I wouldn’t care to be in yore shoes.’

  “Takes a man to fill ‘em,’ bantered the other.