This late afternoon he was in a happy mood, which was his leading and best-liked characteristic. He shook out his reins and burst into song in as sweet a baritone as the range could boast.
Lock me in the jail to stay!
But I’ll get outta there anyway!
I’ll squeeze through the bars in broad daylight,
Or walk out the front in the black midnight!
He swung in closer to the trees along the creek that flowed southward from Milton. His pace would bring him to town for supper. He would be riding back to the big Payne Ranch in the dawn, so he thought. His song swelled on the breeze.
I won’t stay in jail for no lawman;
Try and keep me there, if you can!
I’ll break off the door and throw it away,
Before I’ll let em’ keep me in the jail to stay!
A rider burst out of the trees and raced his horse in close to the singer.
“You figure on going to jail, stranger?” came the challenge in a cheerful voice, accompanied by a flashing smile.
Buck pulled up his horse. “I’m not a stranger, bozo, I live here,” he shot back coolly. “That’s mistake number one. I don’t favor any such introduction as yours for mistake number two. Now, you tell one.”
He was neither smiling nor frowning, for the newcomer was plainly a genial sort with range breeding sticking out all over him, as the saying has it. He was probably two, perhaps three years older than Buck, clean-cut as to features, with cool, gray eyes. He had the strong, slim, tapering build of a natural-born rider. He wore a pearl-handled gun in a worn black holster, and as Buck noted it, he took his hand off his own weapon. It was all too apparent that there was nothing hostile about the man or his manner of greeting.
“I might as well make mistake number three,” said the rider, his eyes twinkling, “in taking it that you’re a cow person.”
This was right in Buck’s territory and he ventured a grin. “I am that and no mistake,” he confessed. “You look like a waddy yourself, although I dunno …” He couldn’t quite make the other out.
“If you think of all the cattle you’ve ever seen,” said the stranger gravely, “and then think of all the range you’ve ever seen and think of all the cattle you’ve ever seen on all the range you’ve ever seen, multiplied by all the cattle and range you can think of …”
“I’ll know what kind of a cow person you are, I suppose,” Buck interpolated with a wide grin. “You working on this range? I don’t remember seeing you before.”
“You wouldn’t.” The other nodded. “I don’t always look the same and I’m not working on this range … as yet. Mind telling me who you happen to be representing yourself at present?”
“I’m Buck Granger from the Payne Ranch, which ranch has all the cattle you’ve seen multiplied by all the range you haven’t seen skinned by forty sections. What’s your alibi when it comes to names? You don’t have to tell where you’re from unless somebody’s chasing you.”
“I’m known as the Great-Horned-Toad-from-the-Pecos,” was the answer, with the lift of a fine pair of brows. “I spit poison and eat fire. I catch bullets between my teeth and lick ’em. Can you keep a secret, Buck?”
“I haven’t told you my middle name,” Buck answered. “I’ll trade.”
“Then call me Mel Davitt, for that’s my right name,” said the stranger. “I’m from the south, and since I’m new up here, and you look charitably inclined, maybe you’ll confirm my suspicions that the town of Milton is north of here, not too far, and, if you’re riding that way, let me ride along with you … you to give me all the information I should have on the way.” Davitt nodded brightly.
Buck Granger laughed. “I should have spotted your Texas crimp and string to your words. Milton sure is just north of here, and I’m going that way. We can ride along easy and make it just after sundown for a good supper at the Grand Prairie Hotel. You can get anything you can pay for in town and you can get trouble for nothing. A lone worker poked twenty thousand out of the bank up there the other day, but they’d never take you for him. Riding in with me makes you safe and respectable for the time being, so let’s jog along.”
“You might be taking a chance if you ride along with me to square me off,” warned Davitt. They were riding now, and each was eyeing the splendid mount of the other. “You got a fair horse there,” said Davitt.
“You’re not riding a mule yourself,” Buck answered.
“What about this gun-poking at the bank?” asked Davitt.
“Outlaw who calls himself the Crow held it up and beat it for good a week ago,” replied Buck. “They want him bad. My boss is a director of the bank, too. Ten thousand reward out for the Crow, so if you’re short, there’s your chance.”
“Let’s you and me go out and get him,” suggested Davitt.
“Yeah?” Buck shot him a curious look. “Why not? The sheriff can’t get within shooting range of him, so we ought to make it easy.”
“Going in on ranch business, Buck?” asked Davitt pleasantly.
“Nope, I’m going in to a dance,” replied the cowpuncher. “I’m supposed to be back on circle at daylight. What you up here for?”
“I’m up here to make a stake at something,” said Davitt. “I’ve got a white shirt and a tie in my slicker pack, so what’s to stop me going to the dance along with you?”
“Nothing … if you’ve got two dollars. They don’t run any cheap dances in Milton and the girls go free. You’d be pretty sure of getting a partner if you can kick your feet.”
“Not so sure as you think,” said Davitt. “I’d have to dance with the prettiest girl there, if I went.”
“I see,” Buck said, giving him a quizzical look. “Well, it wouldn’t be hard to pick her out. She’s Virginia Graham, daughter of old Sylvester Graham, president of the bank and the bozo who holds the keys to all the mortgages. She’s particular who she dances with, but you give her that horned-toad stuff. She’d be liable to fall for that.” Buck laughed heartily.
“I suppose you know her,” Davitt conjectured, ignoring Buck’s joke and laughter.
“Sure, I know her. I’m good for a dance if she feels like it. Listen, I’m telling you a lot of things, but I’m not adopting you or anything like that. I’m just riding along with you, understand?”
“I gather this Virginia lady is plumb high-toned,” was Davitt’s comment. “And if you adopted me, you’d have something on your hands, boy. I can streak it for town if my company is bothering you any.”
Buck frowned. “I didn’t mean that exactly. But I don’t know you and that’s a fact if it isn’t anything else. I don’t reckon I ought to be talkin’ to you about Miss Virginia, but I warn you she doesn’t dance around promiscuous with strangers.”
“That’s fair. Well, Buck, there’s nothing wrong with me. I haven’t been to a dance in a long time. I’d like to go tonight. If Miss Virginia requires it, why don’t you take a chance and introduce me?”
Buck Granger looked startled. “Why … well, we’ll see.”
“I’ll be doggoned if you’re not afraid of her!” exclaimed Davitt.
Buck’s face reddened with anger. “You’re fresh, bozo,” he said.
“You just think so,” returned Davitt with a cool look. “I’ve watched you riding along for two or three miles. I formed an opinion of you before I busted out from the trees. I can tell a little about a man even by the way he rides. I heard your song and saw the look in your eyes, and read your face, and decided you were foursquare. So you see, it was me who invited this ride and not you who did the inviting. I don’t make up with every stranger I see coming along any more than you do. And there’s no use in getting mad at me, because it won’t do you any good.”
Buck had been studying the other as he listened. Here was no cowhand, he decided. Perhaps he was the son of a rancher on the southern ranges
somewhere. Buck was handicapped in that he knew nothing of the country south of the Missouri. But Mel Davitt was not a common cowpuncher, and he didn’t look like a professional gambler, and one look into his eyes convinced Buck that his new acquaintance was not a shady character. Since Payne had made no mention to anyone that Sylvester Graham was sending for an operative from outside the county to help hunt down the Crow, word could not have got to Buck that such a man was coming. And even if he had known, there was absolutely nothing about Davitt’s appearance to suggest that he might be the man. Buck concluded that it was because Davitt talked a little better than the average cowhand that he seemed different.
“You’ve had quite a bit of schooling, haven’t you?” he asked.
“From reading, boy,” replied Davitt with a friendly smile. “I’ve always been a hand to read. I had a kid’s schooling before I had to go to work. The rest of it I got by reading everything I could get my hands on. Man, I’ve read The Rise and Fall of the Roman Empire!” He lifted his brows and emphasized his words with nods of his head and a gleam of triumph came into his eyes.
Buck grinned broadly. “I suppose you don’t have much time to read things like playing cards, though,” he remarked.
“I can shut my eyes after seeing my hole card and play better stud than you ever heard a gambler lie about,” was the answer.
Buck laughed this time. “I guess you’re all right,” he sang. “I’ll take a chance on you. C’mon, Mel, the town’s straight ahead.”
They let out their horses and raced at tremendous speed toward the town that now showed dimly in its setting of trees in a bend of the creek less than two miles away. The sun dropped behind the peaks and the high western sky swam in crimson glory as they slowed their pace and cantered into the dust of Milton’s main street.
Chapter Four
When they had put up their horses, and Mel Davitt had tossed the liveryman a gold piece with the admonition to “treat my horse like he was your own brother,” they started for the hotel. Davitt was carrying his slicker pack, having explained that it contained certain articles of wearing apparel that he might need.
“I’m going to get a room and wash up before supper,” he told Buck. “Maybe they’ll have the means of a bath here. I’m sick of river water with my shirt for a towel. If you want to use my room for anything, like combing your hair or such, you’re welcome.”
“Get your room and doll yourself up and I’ll meet you in the bar,” said Buck. “I might leave my shooting iron up there during the dance, and I might leave it with the clerk downstairs. I’ll see you later.”
“Well put.” Davitt smiled. “You’re not dumb, Buck. Why didn’t you come right out and say that guns are barred at the dance? I know you’re not going to leave yours with me any more than I’d leave mine with you. Maybe I’ll hide mine behind the piano.”
“They don’t stand for any rough stuff at social affairs here,” said Buck pointedly, as they went up the steps and entered the small lobby. “I’ll be in the first door to the right of the hall there.”
When Davitt appeared in the bar nearly an hour later, Buck caught himself looking at his new acquaintance in astonishment and admiration. It was vividly apparent that Davitt had bathed and was refreshed as a result. He was clean-shaven, wore a clean, light blue shirt of finest thin broadcloth, a dark blue four-in-hand, gray trousers with their bottoms over the tops of brilliantly polished riding boots. The freedom from cartridge belt and gun accentuated the slim waist of his superb figure.
“You’ll do,” said Buck with a pleased expression. “You look good enough to be introduced around to the boys. Where’d you get the big-town pants?”
“The Prince of Wales sends me a duplicate of everything he wears, son,” was Davitt’s lofty reply. “I don’t feel like meeting any of the boys till I’ve had supper. You eat yet … or are you waiting for me to do the honors before we take what they’ve got left?”
“How about yourself?” Buck asked, pushing away his empty beer glass.
“Don’t feel like it,” was the crisp answer. “Let’s go in.”
They didn’t talk about much of anything during the meal. The twilight had deepened into night in the small dining room and the lamps had been lighted. Outside, the last pale light of the sunset’s afterglow still lingered when they went into the street.
Mel Davitt and Buck attracted more than a passing glance from those they met. They were of equal height and of almost identical build. Cowpunchers singled them out as expert riders at a glance. More than one girl who spoke to Buck threw Davitt a single glance, but Buck volunteered no introduction.
A tall man who would have attracted attention most anywhere came around the corner as they reached the bank. Like others, he nodded to Buck and looked at Davitt keenly. Then he stopped to speak to Buck.
“Frank Payne told me he was going to pay you off with your dance ticket one of these times,” he said in a bantering voice.
“I’ve special permission this time from the wagon boss,” Buck said, grinning. “The old man ain’t got anything against me. Oh, Sheriff, this is Mister … er … Davey.” He turned to Davitt, who didn’t bother to correct the name. “This is Sheriff Hal Drew,” he said by way of introduction.
“How do you do,” said Davitt, taking the sheriff’s proffered hand. There was nothing in the official’s gaze to indicate that he suspected his identity.
“Another Payne buckaroo, eh?” Drew commented amiably. “Well, you two make a pair. They’re tuning up over at the dance hall, so I won’t be taking more of your time. Don’t step on anybody’s toes, Buck.”
“Humph,” Buck said as they walked on. “He thinks I’m a trouble omen. He’s up here on that robbery business. There’s the bank over on that corner. Brand new and shining like a target. Reckon this Crow outlaw just couldn’t pass it up.”
Davitt looked at the bank with interest. “They don’t make ’em strong enough to stop a first-class hold-up man,” he commented.
They went on to the dance hall, which was over a general store. The dance was already in progress and Davitt told Buck to go ahead and dance while he got his bearings with the spectators grouped about the door. He watched Buck cross the floor to where three girls were sitting in chairs along the wall with some fellows standing about them. When the orchestra struck up he saw Buck emerge with a dark-haired girl with dancing eyes and laughing lips. He didn’t have to look hard to know that this was Buck’s favorite among the girls present, and that she was glad to be dancing with him. Then he studied the couples on the floor, noting the girls particularly. At last he saw her.
She was dancing with a tall youth whose face lacked the depth of tan that it would have shown had he been on the range the whole year round. Either he was from a large town or city, or he had been away to school. Davitt was inclined to the last thought because of his dress. He had scant time for the girl’s partner, however, for Virginia Graham’s hair, of the color of burnished copper, her dark eyes, her softly curved lips, her poise of graceful, lissome body, easily marked her as the most beautiful girl there. He was sure she was the girl Buck had spoken of the moment he set his eyes on her. He was not sorry he had come to the dance, for it was worth it just to see Virginia.
Buck came along two dances later, and Davitt drew him aside.
“Who’s that girl sitting over there with the tall fellow in town clothes?” Davitt asked. “The one with the head of hair, I mean. I saw you speak to her, but I don’t blame you for sticking close to the snuggly little one you favor. She’s your type. I’d like for to meet the one with the hair.”
“Oh, yeah?” said Buck sarcastically. “Just like that, huh? So you spotted her. Who wouldn’t? That’s Virginia Graham, of course. Who’d think that old money-grabbing iceberg could have a daughter like that. The gentleman … get the word … who’s with her is Chester Wessel. He’s just finished college somewhere in the East. His
old man owns one of our biggest ranches. He’s probably read the rise and fall of all the empires, not just Rome, or whatever you said it was. I don’t reckon he’d want her dancing with any horned toads.”
Davitt grasped Buck’s arm and squeezed it until the cowpuncher winced. “I want to meet her,” he hissed in Buck’s ear. “All you’ve got to say is just … ‘this is Mister Davitt who wants to meet you’ … see? I’ll do the rest.”
Buck placed both hands on his hips and looked at him. “Well now, ain’t that easy? Just as smooth as glass. That’s all I have to say, eh? Well, Mister Horned-Toad, you come right along, and I’ll do just as you say. Later I can tell her I did it on a bet or something and explain you got her wrong and I wanted to see you set right. Come right along with me.”
He led Davitt across the floor and into the group surrounding the girl. “Miss Graham, this is Mister Devitt, who wants to meet you,” he introduced sweetly.
Virginia Graham arched her pretty brows a trifle. “How do you do, Mister Devitt,” she said in a conventional voice.
“Quite well,” said Davitt with a credible bow. “Buck, here, means Davitt, since his E carries the Greek accent.” He was quick to see her eyes light with interest and noted Chester Wessel was frowning.
“Mister Davitt,” explained Buck politely, “is a horned toad from Texas.” He bowed and smiled.
“Which naturally explains everything,” Davitt said, nodding with a smile. His smile was catching, and everyone smiled faintly except Wessel. “I came all the way up here to ask you for the honor and enjoyment of dancing with you, Miss Graham,” said Davitt with a challenge in his eyes.
Three Trails to Triangle Page 3
