“An’ yu near forgot her message,’ reproved Green, with twinkling eyes. “Larry, I’m plumb ashamed of yu.’
“Aw, yu go to—’ But Green was already on his way to the ranch-house.
He found Simon, with his daughter and Blaynes, sitting on the verandah, and, at the request of his employer, gave a bald account of what had happened to him. When he had finished, the foreman burst into a loud laugh, which was cut short when Noreen said indignantly :
“I don’t see anything amusing about a cold-blooded attempt at murder.’
“Aw, Miss Noreen, yu got it wrong,’ protested the offender. “Them Double X boys—if it was them—was just playing a joke. They meant to leave him there to cook in the sun for an hour or two, until they come back to pull him up again. They certainly seem to have got yu scared, Green.’
“Scared? Why, I’m near grey-headed now,’ returned Green, and grinned. “Yu think it was just a joke, eh?’
“Shore of it,’ replied the foreman.
“Well, yu know ‘em better than I do,’ was the meaning retort. “Next time yu see yore friend Snub, tell him from me that practical jokin’ is a game two can play at.’
‘Yo’re callin’ the wrong card,’ snapped the foreman. “I ain’t got no friends at the Double X, but if ever I meet this feller Snub I’ll shore deliver yore message.’
“A pretty sort of practical joke,’ the girl said contemptuously. “It mades me shudder to think of those horrible birds.’
“They musta forgot to tell the vultures it was only a game,’ Green said gravely, and had the satisfaction of seeing the foreman squirm when Noreen laughed at him. “I understand yu lost the trail again?’
“We follered it as far as it went,’ snorted the other. “I’m as good as the next at teadin’ sign, but I don’t claim to be able to see it when it ain’t there.’
“Well, we don’t appear to be gettin’ any forrader,’ interposed Old Simon. ‘Yu’d better turn in, Blaynes; yu’ve had a long day.’
This was a dismissal, and the foreman, very unwillingly, had to take his departure. When he had gone, the ranch-owner turned to the cowpuncher.
“The joke idea don’t appeal to yu none?’
Green smiled. “I reckon my sense o’ humour must be some shy,’ he said.
“Think the Double X is mixed up in the rustlin’?’
“I dunno, I got nothin’ on them—yet; but have yu ever thought what a nice convenient brand the Double X might be? See here.’
He took pencil and paper from his pocket, drew something, and handed the result to Old Simon. “There’s yore brand,’ he said, “an’ by the side of it is what a smart feller with a runnin’ iron an’ a wet blanket might do to it.’
The ranch-owner gave one glance at the paper and swore softly. “By heaven, it’s as easy as takin’ a drink ! I’ve a mind to call Dexter’s hand to-morrow.’
“That won’t get yu nowhere,’ Green pointed out. “If they’re doin’ it, yu can bet they’re coverin’ their tracks, an’ my hunch is that they ain’t in it alone. We gotta get more evidence; yu couldn’t hang a dog on this.’
“Mebbe yo’re right,’ Simon admitted. “So yu guess it’s whites passin’ as Injuns? Blaynes warn’t so wide o’ the mark then.’
“It is only a guess, an’ we’d better keep it under our hats for the present,’ Green replied. “Any other ranch round here been losin’ cattle?’
“There’s only the Frying Pan, thirty mile to the west of us. I saw Leeming, the boss, in Hatchett’s a week or so back, an’ he didn’t have any complaints.’
Several times during the conversation Green’s glance had unconsciously rested on Noreen, and he had been disconcerted to find that on each occasion she had been regarding him steadily. Sitting there in the fading light, she made a picture to content any man. The recent tragedy had left its mark upon her, and instead of a merry, laughing girl, he now saw a serious, sweet-faced woman. “Larry will be a very lucky chap,’ he thought, and was instantly conscious that he did not believe it.
“Well, I’ll be driftin’ along,’ he said, rising. “Let yu know if there’s anythin’ fresh.’
“Don’t you think, Daddy, that Mr. Green ought to have help?’ Noreen asked quietly.
“Why, that’s a good notion, girl,’ her father said instantly. “What about takin’ one o’ the boys with yu, Green?’
“It’s shore kind o’ Miss Noreen to suggest it, an’ I hope the time’s comin’ when I’ll need assistance, but till it does come I’d rather go it single-handed,’ the cowpuncher replied. “I guess Barton would jump at the invite. Mebbe yu were thinkin’ of him?’ he added with a smile.
“I hadn’t anyone in particular in mind,’ Noreen returned. “I should have thought Larry had not sufficient experience; he is only a boy.’
“He’s a mighty good one—I wouldn’t ask for a better,’ said Green, and the girl wondered at the sudden warmth in his tone.
“Oh, I’m sure of that; but he’s so—young,’ she explained lamely.
“Well, I guess he’ll grow out o’ that soon enough,’ chuckled Simon. “Anyways, yu can have him, or any o’ the others when yu say, Green.’
Walking back to the bunkhouse, the puncher turned the conversation over in his mind, and came to the conclusion that Larry would not be lucky. “Only a boy ! An’ he’s a coupla years older than she is,’ he murmured. “Women shore age quicker’n we do.’
His entrance into the bunkhouse was the signal for a burst of merriment from the older men, and he immediately divined that the foreman had been relating the story of his discomfiture. Durran was the first to fire a shot.
“I hear as how yu bin havin’ a look at the country, Green,’ he said, with a wide grin.
“An’ that yu found the rustlers’ hang-out,’ added Nigger, with a marked emphasis on the last word.
Will yu walk into my parlour, said the spider to the fly,’ hummed another. “An’ the fly wasn’t fly enough to.’
A shout of laughter greeted this effort, and Durran slapped the singer enthusiastically on the back. ““That’s damned good, Bent,’ he cried. “The spider—haw, haw! Damned good, that is. An’ do yu reckon the parlour mighta bin a sandy one?’
“I guess likely it was,’ grinned Bent. “An’ the unsuspicious insect musta belonged to the specie the gardener sharps call greenfly.’
This sally produced a positive howl of mirth, and Durran rocked to and fro, slapping the humorist’s back, and murmuring, “Yu shore will be the death o’ me, Bent.’
The man at whom these gibes were directed looked around with a sardonic smile. He saw Larry and his little following were taking no part in the merriment, and that Snap Lunt was watching him curiously. The little gunman did not appear to be amused, but he was clearly interested. Dropping easily into a seat, Green waited until all the would-be wits had had their say and then fired a return shot.
“This is shore the best-tempered outfit I ever met up with,’ and there was an edge on his voice which cut like a razor. “Why, if any gang had run a blazer like this “joke” on the old K T in Texas, the boys would’ve painted for war immediate. But I reckon yu ain’t called “Wise-heads” for nothin’, and the Double X has got yu right buffaloed.’
This was another aspect of the affair, and even the loudest laughers looked a bit uncomfortable, while on the younger men the effect was electrical. Ginger sprang to his feet instantly.
“Buffaloed nothin’,’ he cried. “Why, if anybody’s goin’ to think that, me an’ two-three of us’ll go an’ corral the Double X gang an’ hang ‘em over the cliff in their own ropes.’
Green laughed. “Sho, that wouldn’t be the act of a “Wise-head,” Ginger,’ he reproved. “Yu needn’t to worry none about them jokers, either—they’ll get theirs. I don’t need help to curry a little hoss like that. An’ yore foreman’ll tell yu that yu got a bigger job. Yu gotta find the Injuns who are rustlin’ steers an’ killin’ yore friends.’
“I thoug
ht that was yore job,’ sneered Blaynes.
“Why, I believe the Old man did say somethin’ about it,’ replied the puncher evenly. “I’ll have to ‘tend to it.’
“An’ watch out for the spider,’ jeered Durran.
“I shore will. I’m obliged to yu for remindin’ me, Durran,’ smiled Green, not failing to note the scowl which the foreman directed at the speaker.
Chapter VII
ON the following morning a rider spurred his mount down the main and only street of Hatchett’s Folly, and found it, as he had expected at that time of the day, deserted, save for a dog or two prowling in search of spots where the blistering sun could not reach them with its full intensity. Without troubling to slow up, he wrenched a bit and brought his horse no a sliding stop in front of the Folly saloon, the dug-in hoofs sending up clouds of dust. He was a short, stoutish man of about thirty, with hair almost bleached by the sun, and a blob of a nose which had heavenly aspirations and had got its owner into more trouble than any respectable nose should.
Dismounting with a whoop, he hitched his pony to the rail, and entered the saloon. He found it almost as deserted as the street outside. Two men were playing cards in a desultory way at one of the tables, and another was leaning carelessly against the bar, talking to Silas. One glance at this third made the newcomer stiffen and hesitate in the doorway; but it was too late for retreat : the barkeeper had seen him.
“Howdy, Snub ! Come right in,’ he called. “How long yu bin sufferin’ from it?’
“Sufferin’ from what?’ asked the other, as he complied with the invitation.
“Bashfulness at the sight of a bar,’ was the reply.
“Ain’t never had it,’ retorted the newcomer. “That sun’s powerful glary out there, an’ for a minit I couldn’t see a thing.’
At the mention of the name, Green shot one swift glance at the man, but showed no other sign of interest. Snub exchanged greetings with the other two citizens and poured himself a generous drink from the bottle Silas pushed forward.
“How’s tricks at the Double X?’ asked that worthy.
“So so. Them damn Injuns lifted another half-dozen head, an’ Dex is hoppin’ mad about it,’ replied the puncher, watching Green warily as he spoke. Did the fellow know him or not? he wondered. The nickname so incautiously divulged in the canyon might have escaped the captive’s notice; there was nothing in the lounging figure to lead him to think otherwise, and he began to feel easier. Rolling a cigarette, he put it between his lips and struck a match. He was in the act of lighting up when a shot crashed, and the bullet twitched the burning wood from his fingers. It was immediately followed by a second, which removed half of his cigarette, and a third which tore away the remaining portion, leaving only fragments of paper and tobacco clinging to his lips.
“What the ‘ell?’ he gasped, gazing pop-eyed at the still-lolling
stranger, whose eyes gleamed with satanic amusement, and around whose hips blue smoke was eddying.
“Just a little joke—little practical joke, friend—habit I got,’ explained the marksman in a soft drawling voice. “Seein’ that I’ve just naturally ruined yore smoke, have a cigar with me.’
He motioned to Silas, threw the money on the counter and went out, unconcernedly turning his broad back and offering an easy target. But Snub watched him go in a kind of trance.
“My Gawd!’ he said in an awed voice. “Three shots, firin’ from the hip. An’ I was watchin’ him an’ never saw a move. Who is he?’
“That’s the new “Wise-head” puncher,’ said the barkeeper with a sly smile, for he had his own opinion of Snub, and was not greatly grieved to see him set back a little.
“I know that. An’ he’s shore got the right brand. But who is he?’ persisted the victim of the “little joke.’ Then, with a shaky laugh, he added, “An’ that’s the feller Poker is claimin’ he’ll get. Well, he can have him—entire—hide, horns, hoofs, an’ taller. I don’t want none m’self.’
“Yu oughtta be thankful yore nose is set the way it is,’ grinned Silas. “If yu had bin a Jew, yore smeller woulda bin plumb spoiled by that last shot.’
“An’ that’s awful true,’ chimed in another voice, and Snap Lunt joined them. “Lo, Silas. ‘Lo, Snub; yu look like yu been seein’ visions.’
“Did yu see it, Snap?’ asked the bartender.
“Yeah, I was at the door,’ was the reply. “Pretty fair shootin’.’
“Pretty fair shootin’?’ repeated the indignant victim. “Why, I reckon even yu couldn’t equal it, Snap.’
“Mebbe not,’ retorted the gunman, with the nearest thing to a smile that ever appeared on his face. “But roll yoreself a pill; I’m willin’ to try.’
“Not on me, yu won’t,’ Snub said instantly. “I take it back. Yu could do it—an’ more. I don’t want no proof. Here, Silas, give this bloody-minded sharp-shooter somethin’ else to think of. An’ he called it a joke, Snap. What yu think o’ that?’
“Well, if that’s his idea of a joke, I should walk round him, a long way round him—mile or so—when he’s feelin’ humorous,’ Lunt replied. Meanwhile the subject of this conversation, on leaving the saloon, had gone to the main emporium of the place, a sort of general store which stood next to the hotel. He had not noticed Snap, for the gunman, seeing that he was about to come out, had slipped round the corner of the Folly. He found the proprietor, a grizzled old pioneer of sixty, ready to talk.
Was that shootin’ I heard over to the s’loon?’ he asked.
“Only a puncher a-showin’ off. No harm done,’ Green toldhim. ‘Gimmee two boxes o’ forty-fives an’ a coupla sacks o’ smokin’. Don’t sell no cigarette-making machines, I s’pose?’
“Never heard tell of ‘em,’ said the merchant. “Fellers ‘bout here all got fingers.’
“Yu been here a long whiles?’ the puncher queried, while the ordered goods were being produced.
“I helped to start the blasted place—come in with old Hatchett hisself. Yessir, an’ we all reckoned we was goin’ to strike it rich, but it was a false alarm. My, but she was a lively town while the gold-boom lasted ! An’ there was more money in undertakin’ than minim’. I expect I’m about the on’y one o’ that crowd left.’
“Yu was here when Old Simon sifted in from—now where was it I heard he came from?’
“Texas. Though I can’t call to mind the name o’ the place. Yes, that’d be around eighteen years back. It was him comin’ decided me to stop on. Curious feller, Old Simon. Kept his affairs strictly under his own hat. Allus give me the idea he didn’t want to be found.’
“How was that?’ Green asked interestedly.
“Just a fancy o’ mine, p’raps; but years ago I’ve seen him in thisyer store, an’ if a stranger come into town he’d keep outa sight till he’d had a good look at him.’
“Ever see his wife?’
“He didn’t have none when he come here. There was just him, and the girl, and a Injun woman to keep house an’ look after the kid.’
Glancing out of the door, Green saw the Double X puncher crossing the street to the hotel, outside which he was joined by the slouching figure of the gambler, Poker Pete. They stood conversing a few moments, and then the cowboy got his horse, mounted, and rode in the direction of his ranch. His companion re-entered the hotel. Green turned no the storekeeper.
“How long has that tinhorn card-sharp, Pete, been infestin’ these parts?’ he asked.
The old man made a gesture of caution. “For the love o’ Mike don’t shout it,’ he urged. “While I allow he’s all that an’ more, it ain’t noways wise to say so. He’s got a powerful pull in these parts, an’ fellers as go against him don’t seem to last long. He don’t live here—been sort o’ payin’ visits off an’ on ‘bout two years, stayin’ at the hotel.’
“Well, I’m shore scared,’ laughed the customer, as he paid for his purchases. “So long, old-timer.’
Crossing the street, he mounted his horse, fully conscious th
at he was being watched by at least a dozen citizens. The story of his “joke’ on Snub was now common property and men who had not seen the shooting naturally wanted a look at the man who had done it. Opposite the hotel he pulled up and sat looking at the building. “The buzzard shan’t say I didn’t give him a chance no make a play,’ he muntered. But the gambler did not appear, and after a wait of some minutes, Green rode on.
Three miles out of the town the trail forked, one way leading to the Y Z, and the other to the Double X. Green hesitated here, and then selected the latter. Passing through a narrow, winding gorge a faint clink, as of metal upon stone, warned him that another traveller was behind. He could see no one, but not feeling in the mood for risks, promptly took cover behind a clump of scrub-oak some ten yards from the trail. As the rider emerged round the bend, the watcher gripped the nostrils of his pony to prevent it from whinnying. The other traveller proved to be Poker Pete. He loped past unsuspectingly, hunched in his saddle, and with a dark frown on his unprepossessing feanures.
Now where’s he goin’?’ speculated the cowboy. “Can’t be follerin’ me—he’d expect me to take the other trail. Well, there’s on’y one way to find out.’
He mounned and rode cautiously in the wake of the gambler, keeping well to the rear, and guiding his horse into the soft parts of the trail so that no sound of hoof should reach the man in front. The frequent bends and twists in the trail made it a simple matter to keep out of sight. It was after a rather abrupt turn that he feared he had lost his quarry. The gambler was not in view, despite a straight stretch ahead which he could hardly have covered in the time without a considerable speeding up. Green looked about for another explanation of his disappearance. A cracking twig supplied one. It came from a narrow draw on the left of the trail. There was a faint pathway, and the puncher, keeping a wary eye on the undergrowth, followed it. Presently a thin spiral of smoke showed against the right-hand wall of the draw, and he heard a voice say: “Lo, Pete. Yu bin a long time a-comin’.’
Green slid from the saddle, tied the animal in the bushes, and began to climb the side of the draw. Foot by foot he worked his way up and along until, by parting the coarse grass, he could see the spot from which the smoke was ascending. By the side of a small fire Pete and Snub were squatting cross-legged, and the cowboy was pouring coffee from a battered pot into two tin mugs. Green had missed some of the conversation, but he soon gathered that Pete was in a vile temper.
Oliver Strange - Sudden Westerns 01 - The Range Robbers(1930) Page 7
