“He’d be pleased to hear that,” observed Buck sarcastically.
“No, he wouldn’t,” Davitt said with an edge to his words. “He’d be mad enough to shoot on sight. When it comes to scheming, the Crow is vain. Outguess him and you’ve got him. I’ve done the first.”
Buck had ceased smiling. He put a hand inside his shirt and drew out a wallet. He extracted fifty dollars and tossed the wadded bills across to Davitt. “If you can show me, I’m with you,” he said earnestly, “and the five dollars a day is just what you say … bird seed.”
Davitt took the bills and put them in a pocket. He rolled and lighted a cigarette, looking about the wide ravine as he did so.
“The sheriff came back from his posse hunt down this way a week ago come tomorrow,” he said, as if rehearsing the speech. “He found that piece of paper left by the Crow. The drawing of the black bird is the Crow’s signature. It wasn’t there when the sheriff took his men into the hills, so the bandit must have circled around or watched him when he came in. So the sheriff scribbled that about posting his answer in a week in hopes the Crow would see it. Get that, Buck?”
“Yeah. Did he tell you that?”
“He told me that and told me about his meeting with Graham, your boss, and two other cattlemen when he got back. Then is when Graham sent for me. He was sore because the sheriff hadn’t caught the outlaw. He sent through a relative of his I had done some work for south of here. I started up here three days ago.” He then told Buck briefly of his visit with Graham and the sheriff the night before.
“And you think Graham got mad because you danced with Virginia?” asked Buck with a frown.
“Not at all,” replied Davitt with a smile. “He as much as told me I was too much of a kid. He thought I should have looked different. He expected somebody heavy with guns and hard looks, and he finds me dancing. Then, when he learned that I required an advance payment, it broke him down completely. He thought I was trying to make him for a thousand. The point is, Buck, that Sylvester Graham doesn’t think I’m capable of coping with the Crow.”
“You don’t act much like a man hunter,” Buck acknowledged.
“And that’s a mighty good disguise, Buck,” said Davitt. “I’m not old and I’m not going to let the business I’m in make me old. You know why I wanted to dance with Virginia Graham last night? Just because she is pretty? Not on your life. I was curious when I heard who she was from you. I was more curious when I saw what a stunning looker she is. But I was most curious of all to learn if she has brains. I believe she has ’em. There my interest ends, at present, although I’d like to test her out. Now if you’ll pay attention, I’ll tell you what I believe is the Crow’s scheme, and why.”
“I’m listening,” Buck prompted. The cowpuncher was probably more interested than he ever had been in his life. For what Davitt had told him, and his way of telling it, coupled with the striking personality of the man, his quiet confidence, and the suggestion of a dangerous side to him, had convinced Buck that here was no ordinary Cattlemen’s Association agent, or the like.
“It’s a pretty safe bet to say that the Crow waited around to be sure the sheriff saw that notice he left on the tree,” said Davitt. “I learned a lot about the Crow down Miles City way and in Wyoming. He doesn’t know what fear is, he sneers at danger, he’s sure death with his gun, and he doesn’t discriminate much in selecting targets. But above everything else, he’s vain. He likes to be spectacular. What’s more, he would rather take a long chance to be spectacular and have it talked about, than to grab a made-to-order cinch and merely get the loot.” He pinched the light from his cigarette end and flipped it away.
“When he left the Milton bank, he knew he didn’t have as much money as was in that vault,” Davitt continued. “Graham just made a guess at it when he said twenty thousand. It was closer to ten, as the sheriff hinted. The Crow has had enough experience to have known he wasn’t getting so much. He wasn’t thinking of the money as much as he was thinking of the names old Graham called him. I still think that Graham didn’t know just how bad the Crow is, when he called him a blackguard, a thief, and a murderer. No one ever called the Crow even one of those names before to his face. The Crow wouldn’t forget it. And he wouldn’t get much satisfaction just shooting Graham down. No, sir, Graham would have to be told just what kind of a mistake he made and told at length. Therefore, the Crow would have to meet him again. Now, I see by your eyes you’re beginning to see the direction my words are pointing.”
“You mean he’s coming back!” Buck ejaculated.
Davitt nodded with a cold smile. “Knowing the man’s character as well as I do, it’s as simple as telling time with a good watch,” he said. “The Crow stuck around and made sure the sheriff glimpsed his notice. He probably was watching from a hiding place at the time. He saw what the sheriff scribbled on the notice, too. This isn’t a hunch, it’s pure reasoning. And he’d hang around for a week to read the answer. One of the sheriff’s men hung up that Reward poster last night. And I saw a crony of the Crow’s on the trail up here, which is one reason I wanted to ride into town with somebody who lived around here … to avoid suspicion. I picked on you.”
“Did you see the Crow’s man in town?” asked Buck.
“When we came out of the hotel.” Davitt smiled. “And I went straight to the dance with you for as sweet an alibi as a man ever had.”
Buck looked at him with open admiration. “Not bad,” he conceded.
“By this time the Crow knows about the sheriff’s Reward poster down there by the tree”—Davitt nodded—“he may know, too, that we rode out of town with a pack outfit, and if he does, he thinks we’re deputies. He’s so used to outguessing people that he thinks he’s outguessing the sheriff. He figures the sheriff expected him to see that promise he scribbled on the notice and that the sheriff will have a bunch of men cached around down there to nip him when he comes back to see the answer. Will he go down to read the answer, Buck?”
“He will not,” Buck blurted confidently. “He’ll swing around into town for another crack at the bank while the sheriff is up here waiting.”
Davitt beamed. “If I hadn’t known you had some brains tucked behind your banter, I’d have left you in town, Buck. That’s just what the Crow figures to do. And the week is up tomorrow. I think it’s safe for us to figure on something tonight, or tomorrow night at the very latest. And knowing this country as you do, it’s up to you to pick the softest spot from which the Crow can strike at the town.”
“That’ll be Mink Coulee,” said Buck instantly. Then his eyes were shaded with a new doubt. “Listen, Davitt, if you was so sure of all this, why didn’t you just wait in town for the Crow to show up?”
Davitt smiled again. “That would be just what the Crow would expect me to do … if he thought I had a notion as to his scheme and if he knew I was on his trail,” he said. “I spotted his two men in the Teton brakes. One rode west to these hills, the other rode to town. If the Crow did have a suspicion someone had been called in on the hunt, he’s tickled to death to hear we’ve taken to the hills the same as the sheriff. And you can lay to it that he’ll have one of his men in town, maybe both of ’em, before he shows up himself. The man who took to the hills, Buck, knows this country, too. For all I know, the Crow was down in the brakes with them before he rode up to rob the bank. He probably told ’em to wait a couple days and then split up and do as told. He might not have been able to hold up the bank that first afternoon, you know. He probably has the man who knows the country with him. And this is going to be a night job, remember that.”
“You think he’s going to blow open the safe?” asked Buck.
“He could if he had to, but that’s pretty rough work, Buck … and noisy. He’s afraid of that new-fangled burglar alarm, too, and he wants to tell Sylvester Graham just how big a mistake he made in calling him those impolite names. Suppose he could get Graham into t
he bank with him and tell him just what he thought of him while he compelled him to open the vault? That’s a strong vault. The Crow and his aides haven’t been up against such a strong one. It would be easier the way I’ve suggested … it would be more spectacular … and the Crow might not kill Graham at all but leave him tied in his chair with a note on the desk with the drawing in ink of the black bird which is the Crow’s signature.”
“It’s magic!” Buck exclaimed. “By the way you’ve figured it out, it sounds so reasonable you might be reading that outlaw’s mind. He’ll make old Graham open that vault at the pistol point while his two men keep watch outside. I bet he tries it tonight. He will, if the sheriff leaves town.”
“The sheriff is going to carry out his plan,” drawled Davitt. “Crow meat, he called our man. That cinched it. And look, here comes a visitor up the trail. Let’s tidy the things up before the gent gets a line on us.”
Chapter Seven
The newcomer walked his horse up the ravine from the main trail, looking about at the meadow and slopes, evidently intent upon giving the impression that he had chanced that way. He was quite close to Davitt and Buck before he gave them his curious attention. He raised a hand in negligible salute as he checked his horse. He had a round, expressionless face, mild blue eyes, a large nose, and wore a stubble of reddish beard. Buck managed to shake his head slightly at Davitt to convey the information that he didn’t know the man.
“Fishing for trout?” inquired the stranger in a choppy voice.
“For a meal, you mean,” Buck corrected. “We just ate it.”
“I see.” The rider, who made no move to dismount, nodded sagely. “Reckon you boys are cowhands like myself. I’m Riley, from out east of Benton. I saw you boys in here and rode in to make sure of my directions. Going camping?”
“Don’t know any Rileys from out Benton way,” said Buck, ignoring the question. “That’s off our range. We’re from the Payne Ranch. What direction you want to make sure of?”
“I’m heading up the north fork of the Teton, ain’t I?”
“You are, if you keep on the trail you turned off of,” replied Buck. “Up this way, you’re heading for some tough hill travel.”
“Oh, I’m going up the trail,” said Riley, looking closely at the two of them. “Wouldn’t be surprised if you boys was taking time off for the same reason as myself.”
“What would that be?” Davitt inquired, flashing a look to Buck which indicated that he wanted to take charge of the conversation.
“I’m hoping to run across the Crow,” Riley answered.
“Why, that’s what …” Davitt seemingly checked his words in confusion, and scowled. “Funny the news about that fellow would get clear over Benton way so quick,” he supplemented.
“I heard it from the sheriff,” Riley volunteered, his eyes betraying his keen interest. “The law passes the word around quick. That’s a big reward they’re offering.”
“They won’t have to pay it, so they’re safe in offering it,” Davitt said, and frowned. “The only way anybody’ll catch the Crow is by finding him sound asleep.” He laughed shortly. “They could have offered twice as much and have been just as safe. You figure on getting this outlaw party with the bird name?”
“I might run across him,” Riley said with a shrug. “I reckon I’m not the only man in these hills with the idea in his head.”
“You’ll be better off just to call it an idea and let it go at that,” said Davitt. “From what we’ve heard, this Crow isn’t the right kind of person to run across. What do you know about him?”
“Just an outlaw,” replied Riley. “We’ve had lots of ’em out our way. They get a lucky break and make a haul and then slip up somehow and get took in. If you boys run across him, you’ll have a pretty good chance because there’s two of you.”
“Now that you’ve got all this off your chest, just what did you bust in on us for?” demanded Davitt coldly. “If you wanted to be put right as to the trail, you’ve got the information. If you want to know anything about us, we’re going fishing. You don’t look so much like a cowhand to me … what are you … a deputy sheriff?”
Riley indulged in a guffaw. “That’s not bad,” he said, grinning. “If I look like one of them, I won’t have much chance if …”
“Seems to me like you’ve got too many ifs handy,” Davitt said sharply. “Whoever you are, we’re minding our own business and we expect strangers to do the same.”
“Oh, I can take a hint,” said Riley with a scowl. “Thanks.” He turned his horse. “I don’t think you’re cowhands, either,” he flung over his shoulder. “If you were, you’d be more sociable.” With this he trotted back the way he had come.
Buck looked at Davitt to see him smiling grimly. “You hit it on the head, he said. “That hombre is no more cowhand than you are.”
“If I’m not mistaken that fellow is one of the Crow’s men,” said Davitt thoughtfully. “You’re sure you never saw him before?”
“I know most everybody on this range that’s been here a while,” said Buck. “Maybe he’s a new hand, or maybe he’s from Benton, but he don’t act like cow people to me.”
“Nor to me!” Davitt ejaculated. “And you’ll notice he was careful to look us over. He isn’t just riding around looking everybody over. We’ve got to get packed and get started so he can see that we’re on our way. That’s likely what he wants to see, so we’ll oblige him.”
“I was afraid you might decide to take him in tow,” said Buck.
“Grab him, you mean?” Davitt put the question with a smile.
“And that would have been bad.” Buck nodded. “It would have put this Crow wise to us for sure and certain.”
Davitt’s gaze was cool and calculating. “Looks like we make a good team, Buck,” he said. “Your brains work good when they get stirred up. That fellow won’t bother anybody he thinks is working for the sheriff, either. Bring up the horses and we’ll throw on this pack and slope.”
* * * * *
They rode down the ravine to the main trail and again turned up into the higher hills. It was now well past noon and Buck had selected their camping place for the night. Davitt had stipulated that it be at a point from which they could see the lower hills and where their fire could be seen for a long distance. Buck had asked no questions and had picked his location according to instructions. He was learning about man hunting from a master, and discovering it was an art.
They made slow progress, partly because they did not wish to go very far before making camp, and partly—in which their plans were aided—by the fractiousness of the pack horse. The animal did not take kindly to the work and frequently bolted or balked. Twice they had to take off the pack and rearrange it, making it fast with a double-diamond hitch. They worked slowly and finally made camp in the late afternoon after having traveled but ten or twelve miles since their meal before noon. The frequent delays had enabled them to rest their horses, and when they stopped for the day, it was only the pack animal that was tired.
Davitt spoke little while they went about the work of putting up the pup tent, cutting a few small firs and making a bough bed, and attending to other details which would have convinced anyone who might have been watching unseen that they were indeed on a pleasure expedition into the mountains. From the shelf of meadowland on the slope that Buck had selected they had a good view of the hills below and the prairie beyond. Buck pointed down to where the North Fork flowed out of the foothills and then to a bit of rough land which reached out into the prairie about two miles north of the stream.
“Mink Coulee is about five miles out from that snarl on the prairie,” he said. “I know a shortcut from here that’ll take us down there quicker than we could make it by the trail we come up and we’d be pretty sure of not meeting up with anybody.”
“That’s the ticket,” Davitt said. “Now we’ll get supper, an
d we’ll let ’em see some smoke and later we’ll let ’em see some fire in case the Crow and his partners should look up this way. You can lay to it that the sheriff’s men won’t be making any such show. If our visitor was what I had him pegged for, the Crow will be more interested in us than in any posse. I still think he’s traveling with the outlaw. But I’m worried just the same.”
“So am I,” Buck said unexpectedly, with a frown.
“Why so?” asked Davitt curiously, eyeing Buck closely.
“It’s all too doggoned simple!” Buck exploded.
Davitt’s eyes lighted with genuine pleasure. “You said something,” he agreed. “We’ve got this thing figured out too smooth. I’ve been puzzling my brain all the way up here and can’t find a flaw in our reasoning. That’s why I’m suspicious. There’s bound to be complications, or this job will be different from any I ever worked on. It just isn’t in the pictures for it to work out clocklike, but I can’t make out where the hitch is … unless we were wrong from the beginning. And this man who calls himself Riley … well, his happening along seems to show we are on the right track.”
“It just wouldn’t be natural,” argued Buck. “Everything coming out so perfect, I mean. I guess I’m simple to listen to a fairy story and believe it. I could make the same thing up in my head … why, say.” He looked startled. “I’ve heard of hold-ups being pulled and such, and I’ve sat down and figured out what I would do if I had pulled the trick, and sometimes that’s just what the ornery cuss did.”
“Why not?” Davitt asked blandly. “Put yourself in the other fellow’s place. There’s a lot in it. But in this case, we’ve got pretty good grounds to believe we know the Crow’s plans. He rode west, but he didn’t keep on going west. Instead, he’s got two men with him and I’ve seen one of them in town, and maybe we both saw the other here. No, we’re all right in our deductions … I think that’s what they call them. And Riley spoke the truth, whether he intended to do so or not, when he said an outlaw always makes a slip. Still, the Crow has been in the game for twenty years and, so far as I know, he’s never spent a day in jail. If he ever got in jail, he’d hang. So it’s safe to say he’d die rather than be taken. You couldn’t stop the Crow by just covering him with a gun. He’d draw anyway!”
Three Trails to Triangle Page 6
