“That’s just what I thought,” Lamby confessed in a droll voice.
Everyone present with the exception of Davitt stared at him.
Davitt laughed. “As a matter of fact, you wouldn’t accuse him of it, and you wouldn’t try to comb his range, and you wouldn’t report it to the Association because you didn’t want any trouble? Is that so?”
“I was laying low to avoid trouble, yes, but …”
“And you, Hull?” Davitt interrupted, shaking a finger at Lamby. “You wouldn’t let Quigley go ahead and clean up the business because you thought Lamby himself was planting his Star brand cattle on your range. Now isn’t that so?”
“Doggoned if it don’t just about hit the nail on the head,” boomed Hull, chuckling. “And while we both were laying low …”
“Trawler, as he called himself, was stealing Lamby’s Triangle brand cattle, slapping another triangle brand over the first one to make it a star, and actually caching the stolen cattle on your range till he could get a chance to get ’em away and sell ’em across the line,” Davitt stated. “He knew the situation and he was working with a free hand. One of the men with him in the Horseshoe … the one who wasn’t killed … says he’ll talk. Phelps has come out of it with a clear head you said this morning, Hull. When he hears what’s happened, he’ll talk.” He rose with a smile. “Seems to me you folks ought to get along up there.” He glanced at Buck. “I’m going over to see Virginia Graham,” he announced. “In fact … she’s expecting me.”
“There’s one thing you don’t know, Davitt,” Lamby said in his slow drawl. “Hull, here, didn’t dare let Quigley try to clear up the muddle because he’d ordered me off the Hull range, and my men had an idea Quigley was to blame for the whole business. Quigley would have stopped a bullet sure.”
“There’s a question,” Quigley said wryly as Davitt left.
Hull rose. “I’m selling my sheep, Lamby, and going in for straight cattle, and breeded stock at that.”
“Then maybe I can sell you a thoroughbred bull,” Lamby said, smiling.
“That would depend on the price,” Hull returned, squinting.
Sylvester Graham rose and leaned on the desk, his face wreathed in a smile that was genuine.
“It looks as if it would be a good year, gentlemen,” he said. “I’m glad this thing is settled. I thought, in the first place …”
“Not quite so fast,” Buck Granger interrupted, lifting his brows. “There’s still a delicate but necessary subject to be taken up. I refer to the … er … money end.”
Sylvester Graham slammed his desk in undignified exasperation while the others laughed heartily, and Buck began counting on his fingers.
Chapter Twenty
It was as sweet a noonday as the north range country could boast in midsummer. Instead of a hot wind and a glassy, scorching sky, a cool breeze laved the land and the sun smiled in an arch of deepest blue. It was a freak spell of weather that might last a day or a week, but not one altogether unusual in that section of the semialtitudes.
Davitt and Buck were camped at a spring south of the river, some twenty miles from Milton, where they had been making their headquarters. They had left Milton that morning and now, after a lazy lunch, while their horses grazed contentedly, they were sitting at ease, smiling leisurely.
“Well, Buck, so far, your proposition looks good,” said Davitt with a nod. “The weather is nice, and I suppose the idea is to ride around, pulling up at favorite spots, and taking it easy. The thing that mystifies me the most is what need we’re going to have for the five hundred dollars apiece that you insisted we bring along.”
The cowpuncher grinned. “It was pretty decent of you to take a chance on my proposition, Mel, especially when I didn’t explain it. I just said we’d be gone a week, and maybe we’d come back with the money and maybe we wouldn’t. I figured if I could get you out from town like this, you’d be more likely to listen to the rest of it.”
“Your reasoning shows a brand of intelligence which is unusual in a common cow waddy,” Davitt said with a lift of his brows. “Sometimes I almost think I was pretty wise in hooking up with you. Anyway, it’s been more fun than traveling the danger trail alone.”
“Well, it’s been sort of an education and considerable fun trailing along with you, Mel,” Buck confessed with the winning smile that made him so likable. “You see, we’ve pulled off two pretty hot jobs together. Putting the Crow out of business was no cinch, and busting up that rustling outfit on the Lamby-Hull range wasn’t such an easy order. I couldn’t see where it would get us anything to hang around Milton, and it seems to me that we’ve earned a rest.”
“Sure,” Davitt agreed, nodding again. He made a lazy gesture with his cigarette, but he was eyeing Buck keenly. “We’ve both lived in the saddle most of our lives, so riding around this way will be a novelty, and there’s no rest a man can get like lying on the hard ground with a prairie cactus for a pillow.”
“Now don’t get sarcastic,” Buck flared, “and I never started anywhere yet without a destination. There’s a town up in the Snowies that’s so tough they eat glue on their hot cakes, instead of syrup. Doesn’t that sound like a good place for folks like you and me to rest up in? And we’re not going to do any work. We’re not trailing down any outlaws, nor taming any hard birds, nor getting into any ruckus. We’ll just stop, look, and listen, play around with our money just a little, and … rest.”
“I see,” Davitt said wryly, “and eat glue on our hot cakes.”
“Personally, I don’t eat hot cakes in summer,” Buck observed, as solemn as an owl.
Davitt stood up suddenly and looked about with an anxious expression.
“What’s the matter?” Buck asked quickly, getting to his feet.
“Nothing, so far as I can see,” said Davitt, scowling. “I was just looking to see if we were following anybody, or if anybody was following us.” He resumed his seat on the grass and eased his back against a tree.
“Shucks,” snorted Buck, sitting down again. “You’re just naturally suspicious, Mel. I don’t mean to say anything small, that away, but this business of man tracking has warped your judgment. You look at every man you see twice and think over what he says three times, that’s what.”
“That’s a rule more people could follow without any bad results,” Davitt said, and smiled dryly. “But, you’ve got to admit, dragging off this way looks queer. And you’re acting mighty suspicious. If we’re on our way to take a rest, why pick such a tough place? Seems to me a sleepy little cow town would be better … where we could doze in the sun, without having to swallow any dust from the street, where we could take a glass or two of beer without lunch and play cards at a dollar a stack. A tough town and five hundred dollars in a week spells trouble, Buck. What’s more, I don’t believe you’re playing square with me.”
Buck’s eyes flashed. “I haven’t got that coming, Mel Davitt, and you know it,” he cried. “Anyway, if you feel that way about it, I’m proposing we turn back right now.”
Davitt waved a placating hand. “Now, don’t get riled,” he admonished. “I’ve spoken to you before about the dangers of getting mad. Tell me flat how you came to pick out this town. What’s its name?”
“Denam!” Buck exploded. “I picked it out because I thought we could enjoy ourselves there for a week.”
“Both of us?” Davitt inquired with interest.
“Why not? You told me once you could enjoy yourself anywhere if there were people around, and there’s people in Denam, both good and bad.”
“But we’re not to have anything to do with the bad ones, according to what I thought you said,” Davitt complained, “and sometimes the bad ones are more interesting than the good ones. You haven’t heard of any fat rewards up in the Snowies … money rewards, I mean, have you?”
Buck was looking at his partner shrewdly. “You think I�
��ve got something up my sleeve?” he said at length.
“No, but I think there’s a joker in the pack,” Davitt returned. He stamped the end of his cigarette with his boot heel. “Look here, Buck, you know very well that I’ve got nothing against going on a week’s vacation, as you call it. There was nothing to stop you from suggesting that we hit the pleasure trail for a spell and you could have talked it over with me back in town. You would have suggested this town of yours and I might have thought I knew of a better place. You weren’t figuring on taking any chances, that’s all. You don’t want to go to Denam just because you’ve heard it was tough. You’ve got another reason. I can see it in your eyes, boy. You’re not so good at concealing your feelings. But, if it’s a job you’ve got in mind, then that’s right in my department.” He nodded rather grimly.
As Buck had listened, his face had flushed a bit through its tan and he turned his eyes away. Now he looked straight at Davitt in defiance. “Suppose it’s a personal reason. That wouldn’t stop you from enjoying yourself up there, would it?”
“Now we’re getting down to business,” Davitt said, smiling. “I had such an idea from the start. Buck, I’ll bet you my saddle and gun against a sack of makings that there’s a girl mixed up in this.” The last words came out with a ring of triumph.
“Denam’s just as good a place as any,” Buck persisted.
Davitt laughed heartily. “For me,” he chided, “but no other place is just as good for you, my buckaroo. Why, everything but her name’s written right in your face, Buck.”
“You win,” said Buck, scowling. “You saw her in Milton the first time I met you, at the dance that night, remember?”
“That neat little black-haired slip? Why, she didn’t look tough enough to live in this town you’re headed for … not as I could see.”
“That’ll be enough,” Buck said gruffly, his scowl deepening. “She isn’t tough and she’s working up there. After all, you don’t have to go along. I thought it would be nice to have you and they’ve got some fancy joints there, that’s all. But you’ve been around a lot and you’d probably be bored. Suppose you jog along back to town and forget it. I’ll push on and make my visit and maybe we’ll meet up again. We’ve had some fun and made some money that will come in mighty handy. I’m sure enough obliged to you for my share.”
“You earned it,” Davitt growled, “and after what you’ve just said, I wouldn’t miss this trip on a bet. Don’t make any rash promises to …” He paused and looked at Buck with fresh interest. “By thunder, I plumb near forgot that you’ve got enough dough in the bank to get married on!” he ejaculated.
Buck leaped to his feet, his face flushing a deep red. “I haven’t got any such idea at present, mister. After all, this is my private affair and I should have said so in the first place.”
Mel Davitt rose slowly. “Not anymore, it isn’t, Buck. You wished me in on this and I go. I’ll take my so-called vacation in my own way. Now, let’s saddle up and get started. No!” He held up his right hand with the palm outward. “There’s no use in you saying any more. We go and, if I’m not mistaken, we ought to get there by midnight. If there’s one thing I’m not doing, it’s camping out when there’s no need for it.”
They rode southward at a faster pace in the afternoon. Buck whistled and hummed brightly, and Davitt chuckled to himself now and then, although he managed to keep his face stern. To the end of his days, Buck might remain a typical, carefree cowboy, but Davitt was not one to forget that Buck on two occasions had ridden with him literally into the face of death. After all, it might be better if Buck married and settled down. For Davitt felt that he himself would always be in the saddle on the high trail of danger.
Fate must have pulled the strings in laughing glee, for here were two fine examples of delightful, reckless youth.
The one thing Davitt was careful not to tell his friend was that he had once visited the town of Denam, and that he knew of some characters far from good who occasionally frequented the place. And this was one poignant reason why Davitt would not permit Buck to make the trip alone.
Chapter Twenty-One
They rode very fast as Buck wanted to make sure of the trail while it was still light. They were cutting across virgin prairie, literally riding against the sun that was dropping fast in its western descent. On his one previous visit to Denam, Davitt had ridden up from the south and he was not acquainted with the trails in the northern part of the Snowies. He was depending on Buck’s knowledge of the country, and the cowpuncher, in turn, was taking a shortcut and depending upon information which the girl had given him.
At dusk they pulled up on a trail that led into the foothills.
“I reckon this is it,” said Buck, looking about to get his bearings. “Yes, this is the trail all right, for I can see the rock pinnacles up there she told me about.” He pointed up the slopes.
Davitt leaned on his saddle horn and stared blankly at his companion. “Do you mean to tell me you haven’t been here before?” he demanded. “And from what you just said, you are following a trail some woman told you about. Now don’t get excited, but I can’t remember ever having had any luck following a lady’s directions.”
“Yeah?” said Buck scornfully. “It happens we’ve hit this trail right where she said it was. I’ve been in from the other side a couple of times and this is a shorter way, that’s all.”
“All right, go ahead,” Davitt sang out, pointing up the trail. “I’ll keep an eye out for a camping site in case we need it.”
“I’ll make sure of my bearings on top of the first ridge,” Buck returned confidently. “They can’t lose me in a few bumps on the prairie like these hills.” He pushed ahead into the lead.
“No, but you can stumble in ’em,” Davitt called to him as they proceeded on their way in the fading twilight.
Davitt leaned down to scan the trail and saw that it was not well traveled. He looked up at the mounting hills with a frown. The wind had freshened and there was a chill in the air. Although the range was not large, it was not at all impossible to get lost or off the trail in such wild country.
They wound over ridges and through ravines, climbing steadily, as night fell. Finally, Buck pulled up suddenly with a smothered exclamation. They were on a level piece of ground with trees looming in deep shadow ahead of them. As Davitt brought up beside Buck, he saw at once what had arrested his companion’s attention. At this point the trail forked and there was a sign that pointed straight ahead between the forks.
Buck was leaning from his saddle staring at the sign, which was plain as day—at least as clear as the moon and stars could make it. It was an old piece of board, with a crude hand whittled, and bore the faded legend:
ten or seventeen miles to denham
Buck stopped, muttering to himself, leaned back in the saddle, and looked sharply at Davitt. “There’s a fork here and there’s the sign,” he said in a queer voice. It was plain by his manner and his look that this turn in events had not been expected.
“Sure,” Davitt said coolly, his gaze roving about the shadowy spot. “The sign’s plain enough. It’s ten miles by one fork and seventeen miles by the other. Which fork did your lady friend say to take?”
“Shucks!” Buck exploded. “I don’t remember that she said anything about this particular place … just said we couldn’t miss it, once we hit the trail.” His eyes clouded, and he scowled to conceal his embarrassment.
“That makes it easy,” said Davitt in an amused voice. “We go ten miles one way or seventeen miles the other. What’s an extra seven miles on a vacation trip?” His chuckle was about to bring a sharp retort from Buck when he spoke again: “Hallo! Here’s company. Buck, don’t draw your gun.”
Three shadows were darting swiftly in the space between the trees, and the night air shook to the thunder of flying hoofs. One rider was ahead, another to the left, and the third to the right. T
he sheen of the moon and the cold light of the stars glinted on the cold, blue barrels of guns as the three night riders closed in.
“Reach,” commanded the leader sternly. “Reach high and sudden or we’ll blow you off your horses.”
“That’s a mighty poor way to dismount,” Davitt said, slowly elevating his hands. “You gents came along just in time to help us make out this sign.”
Buck swore under his breath, but he followed his friend’s example and reached as directed. “Sure you haven’t made a mistake, stranger?” he said in scornfully. He wondered that Davitt hadn’t seen fit to swing into action when the raiders appeared in such a suspicious manner. After all, there were only three of them.
“We’ll see about that after we’ve gone through you,” said the burly man who had issued the commands. “Get around there, you two, and take their guns,” he ordered his two companions.
“Wait a minute!” cried Davitt. “Is this a hold-up?
“Don’t be a fool and fresh at the same time,” said the leader harshly. With this he swung his horse close to Davitt’s mount and struck at Davitt’s head with the heavy barrel of his weapon.
But Davitt’s move was just as swift. He dodged like a flash, and his hands darted downward as he brought his own horse crashing against the animal the outlaw rode. “On the ground, Buck!” he shouted in a ringing voice. The next instant the guns of the raiders were blazing, and the horses were rearing, but in the brief space both Davitt and Buck had thrown themselves from their saddles.
This swift action placed the bandits momentarily at a disadvantage. The horses were mixing, stirring up a cloud of dust, while Davitt and Buck slipped toward the shadows prepared to pour their fire into the outlaws. But this move proved futile as two more raiders burst from the trees and raced their horses toward the pair on the ground. More shots rang out, and then Davitt and Buck were surrounded and stood with their hands in the air, fairly caught.
Three Trails to Triangle Page 16
