“Cut the ride around and come into camp with what’s in your mind,” said Mady. “You’re not here for no table play, for the games don’t run high enough. I happen to know you ain’t changed your business none, and I reckon I’d be the only man you’d want to see here. Don’t try no tricks, for I’m going to keep this drop on you if I have to make it permanent. That goes for all six slugs in this gun.”
Davitt exhaled a little series of smoke rings and, though his eyes narrowed a bit, his general expression of faint interest did not change. “Why, you were never so bad, Bill,” he drawled. “Fact is, you’ve got me guessing. You know I don’t go out on small-time jobs and I’ve always thought that was your style of work. So far as I know, you haven’t even got a notch in your gun, so I’m not very scared of you putting a slug into me, let alone six. I don’t go out after anybody on my own hook even on a personal grudge. I get paid for my work and paid well … and I don’t take every job that’s offered, either.”
“A hired gunman,” Mady said, sneering. “Maybe you’ll tell me which side of the game is worse, yours or mine.”
“Why, yours is, Bill,” Davitt said calmly. “That goes without saying and doesn’t have to be proved. If you were really tough, and pulling big jobs, I might have to set out after you sometime, but you’re not in the class that attracts my trade.” Davitt’s smile was genuine as he resumed his cigarette.
Mady dropped into a chair directly across from Davitt and stared at him out of his cruel, small eyes. “Why did you want to know where I was last night?” he demanded, resting his gun on his knee.
Davitt had been thinking rapidly of a scheme that involved fighting fire with fire. It had been more than a year since he had seen Mady last and he had not suspected his presence in town. Yet it was just such an accidental meeting as this from which he had sought to protect Buck Granger. He studied the outlaw’s face curiously and thought he detected a trace of blustering pride in the man’s features. It was just possible …
“Fact of the matter is, Bill, that a mean trick was played, out north of here, last night … not saying that you played it, understand.”
“Why not?” said Mady, with a sneer. “I get blamed for everything that happens around wherever I happen to be. If somebody pulled something last night, it must have been me, don’t you think?”
As Mady put his question, Davitt caught a single flash in the man’s eyes which caused him to smile to himself. “A man in your business, Bill, naturally gets blamed for a lot of things he doesn’t do. No one knows this better than I. Is there any other cheap gang working out around here?” He put the question casually and flicked the ashes from his cigarette almost to the outlaw’s feet.
Mady started and his gun whipped up, but the move was as slow as a branch bending in the wind compared with gun speed Davitt had seen. Davitt noted this with another wry smile. “Don’t get sore, Bill, I’m just asking a natural question.”
“You mean a nasty question. I’m not traveling with any cheap gang, and I’m not working out of here, either. Suppose you tell me what you’re getting at … about this dirty trick, I mean … and then we’ll see.” His eyes glared in resentment at a fancied insult.
“If you feel that way about it, Bill, I’m not going to come clean as a whistle with you,” Davitt said in a voice devoid of any trace of friendliness. “I’m not putting this past you, for that matter. You’re here, and I don’t know of anybody else in your line that’s here.” He nodded with a grim smile. “That lets you in,” he added.
Mady’s eyes now were narrowed and cold, and he was possessed of a calmness which indicated shrewd calculation. “I’m waiting to hear about the trick,” he said, his lips tightening into a straight line.
Davitt put his cigarette end in the ashtray with a slow, deliberate swing of his right hand. “There’s a trail runs out of here to the north,” he explained, “and there’s a place up there about ten miles where there’s a false fork of the trail near a clump of trees. We came through there last night and got hung up, studying a fake sign. This gave five riders a chance to bust in on the two of us and pull a hold-up.” He leaned with his forearms on his knees and smiled at the floor. “In a way, I reckon, I let them get away with it. They didn’t get much, and it was the tinhorn way they went about it which got my goat. We didn’t even bother to chase them but rode on into town. A good hand at the game wouldn’t have had to bother with a fake signpost.”
He looked up suddenly to find Mady staring at him with an expression of incredulity. Then Mady leaned back in his chair and roared with laughter. At this time Davitt could have got to his gun had he so wished, but he merely glared at Mady through narrowed lids.
Noting this expression, the outlaw fairly rocked with glee. “So … you got … held up,” he managed to get out. “The great Davitt … himself!” He went off into further gales of laughter while Davitt continued to glare. Gradually Mady’s hilarity subsided. “Did you have that cow hound who’s been traveling with you along?” he asked, wiping his eyes with his left hand.
“There’s nothing funny about this, Bill,” Davitt said grimly, “it was just dirt cheap, that’s all. I’ve been spotted once or twice before, but it was done in grown-up fashion. You can leave my friend, Buck, out of it, because he took my orders. Another thing, Bill … this cowpuncher just worked with me on a couple of cases, and, so far as I’m concerned, he’s through.”
Mady grinned. “I see,” he said. “He didn’t come up to scratch, eh?” His grin widened. “I reckon the great Davitt is pretty sore.” The smile vanished and Mady’s eyes hardened. “And you think I done it?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” Davitt flashed back. “It seemed to me like your style and you might not have recognized me since it was night time. I’m laying it right down flat on your doormat till you show me different.”
“The old signpost trick,” Mady said, jeering at him. “Well, if you want to know where I was last night, you go down to the Miners’ Home, and ask ’em how many dollars’ worth of checks I bought in a stud game, when I started playing, and when I quit. You wouldn’t mind telling me how much they took off you, would you?”
“Don’t worry, I’ll look up your alibi,” said Davitt. “They got just enough to make me mad, instead of making me admire their work.”
Mady was fidgeting with his gun and looking at Davitt shrewdly and suspiciously by turn. Davitt believed he knew exactly what was passing through the man’s mind. He was not sure by any means that Mady had turned the trick the night before; in fact, he doubted it. He was inclined to believe the outlaw’s alibi would stand. And he could prove nothing if it didn’t. But he was convinced that if Mady was not one of those implicated in the hold-up, he knew who had turned the trick. If this were true, it was reasonable to assume that Mady was considering putting himself into Davitt’s good graces by giving him some information. This deduction proved accurate with a swiftness which was startling.
“My alibi will stand, all right, and I don’t like to have you think I done this,” growled Mady. He then put up his gun. “I’m taking your word for it that you’re not looking for me for anything special. But what’re you doing here, anyway?”
Davitt hesitated and then decided to clear away the last glimmer of suspicion. “I came over here with my friend for a week’s vacation,” he said in confidential tones. “He’s got a girl here and I trailed along because I didn’t have anything else to do. Now what you got to tell me, Bill? I can see something’s coming and I hope it’s good news.”
“It was that cheap Dommey outfit,” Mady blurted out. “They’ve worked that game a dozen times since spring, I hear. I might say something else if I was sure you could steer clear of peeping.”
“You know I can do that,” Davitt said crossly. “Let’s have it.”
Mady helped himself to Davitt’s makings and rolled and lighted a cigarette. His eyes were brimming with the fire of his scheme.
He leaned toward Davitt and lowered his voice. “Now we’ll talk,” he said.
It was nearly an hour before he left the room, and when he had gone, Davitt sat down and laughed softly. “The old signpost trick,” he muttered. “And the old trick of setting a thief to catch a thief.” He no longer had any desire for sleep and began his preparations to go out for the day—and possibly the night.
As he left the room at noon, Buck Granger was meeting Polly Peters.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Davitt met Buck and Polly Peters on the street when they were walking back from the girl’s boarding house where Buck had remained for dinner. Davitt tried to avoid them, but Buck called to him and in half a minute Davitt found himself being introduced to a brown-eyed slip of a girl who regarded him gravely and called him “Mister Davitt.”
“Just call him Mel, Polly,” Buck said gaily. “I told you he was a regular fellow.”
“I wouldn’t feel like taking that liberty with so important a person on such short notice,” Polly said soberly.
“That’s right,” said Davitt, nodding his head, “if what you say is so. Who’s been telling you that I am an important person?” he asked her, frowning slightly.
“Not me,” said Buck, with a laugh.
“We hear things even up here in the hills,” said Polly. “It must be wonderful … the work you do, I mean, Mister Davitt.”
Davitt stared at Buck, and then frowned. “I guess you have been telling things, my buckaroo,” he said severely. “I prefer to establish my reputation with good-looking young ladies myself.”
Buck chuckled and shot a glance at Polly.
“Instead of talking, I’ve been doing some tall listening. I reckon I’ve got some information that will interest you. Polly, here, says …”
“Polly says she’s going back to work this minute,” the young woman interrupted, flushing slightly under Davitt’s keen scrutiny. “Glad to have met you, Mister Davitt. I suppose we’ll meet again.” She left them with a queer smile for Davitt and a toss of her head for Buck.
Buck waved to her and then favored Davitt with a long look. “You can do it, Mister Davitt,” he said sarcastically. “You can take the joy out of a situation and put a double meaning into it without half trying.”
“There goes a smart girl,” observed Davitt, as if to himself. “This is no place for us, out in the middle of the street … let’s walk over to the hotel a minute.” He took Buck’s arm and they crossed the street.
“How much did you tell her?” he asked, when they were seated in the little lobby.
“I told her we were here, so you could look over your mining properties,” Buck replied, “and then she did the talking.” He simulated a yawn. “She had plenty to say,” he added, in his delicious drawl.
“They always do,” said Davitt dryly. “Glad to see you, I suppose. Well, she looks sensible, and she must have something in her head to be working in a bank, even if she does see anything in wandering cow waddies.” There was a note almost malicious in his voice, but Buck merely grinned.
“Do you know a tough one named Bill Mady?” he asked casually.
Davitt looked at him sharply. “Does she know him?” he shot back.
Lowering his voice, Buck replied: “She knows of him. Says he’s a bad actor and in town this minute. Says maybe he might get riled because we’re here, and to watch out for him. I told her we weren’t afraid of anything smaller than an elephant, and she came back at me with the information that they’re worried around town because he’s here. I reckon this explains the play we ran into last night.”
“Well, it doesn’t,” Davitt snapped, “but it may help us get a line on that play just the same. What else did she have to say about him?”
“Nothing much, except he’s an outlaw and the bank’s hiding its money till he beats it. You talk as if you know something about him, so tell me how his being here is going to help us get a line on last night’s hold-up if he didn’t do it.”
“That’ll come later,” said Davitt, scowling. “I might as well tell you that I’ve met this Mady once or twice in the past, and again today. But I had no idea he was here, and he may bring us luck. We might even get back your five hundred dollars and your gun.”
“You’re not being sarcastic with me, big fellow,” Buck said cheerfully, “not if I get the five hundred and the gun, and a crack at the tinhorns who pulled that trick into the bargain. So you know Mady, and saw him today? What’d he have to say?” Buck put the question in a tone that required an answer.
“Said he didn’t pull the hold-up,” Davitt said, frowning. “The rest will have to keep for the present. I suppose you’re all dated up for tonight?”
“Oh, I can always break a date if the reason sounds good.”
“Well, break it by midnight,” Davitt ordered. “I’m going over to the Miners’ Home later and start playing stud. If you can make it, be there ready to do the same at the table where you see me by midnight. This isn’t just a question of gambling,” he added mysteriously, to impress his listener. He rose abruptly. “You have the fun and let me be the watchdog,” he said significantly. “See you tonight.”
He went quickly up the stairs, leaving Buck sitting in his chair with a nettled frown on his face. Then Buck strode out of the hotel and failed to return during the afternoon.
Within an hour, he was talking with a man to whom he had been introduced by Polly Peters. This man was tight-lipped, alert of eye, dressed in the garb of the hills. He listened to Buck with close attention and before the end of the afternoon he pointed Bill Mady out to the cowpuncher. But Mady didn’t see them.
Buck kept his date with Polly when she left the bank, and none would have suspected that he had a thing on his mind except her.
* * * * *
As it neared midnight, Davitt, playing in a game in the Miners’ Home, began to give less attention to his cards and directed roving glances about the room, most of which centered for a brief space on the front entrance. It lacked but five minutes of twelve when he finally glimpsed Buck Granger entering the place. He kept his eyes on his cards until he sensed Buck’s presence near the table. At least the cowboy had had time to draw close. He looked up casually and caught Buck’s eye. Davitt signaled to him and when Buck had unostentatiously circled the table to a place behind him, Davitt turned down his cards and rose from his chair.
“Take my seat for a spell,” he told Buck in an undertone, “and remember there’s more than five hundred dollars in those stacks of chips.”
“Sure,” Buck said genially, “and that’s probably more than will be there when you get back. I’m not as good at this game as some others.” He dropped into Davitt’s chair and threw a swift glance over his shoulder to note the direction Davitt took. Buck had caught a fleeting glimpse of Bill Mady huddled against the lower bar as he had entered the resort. Now, surreptitious glances, swift and sure, apprised him of the fact that no sooner had Davitt left by the front entrance than Mady moved toward the rear.
Buck had been rapidly counting the chips that Davitt had left and now he pushed the stacks of whites, reds, blues, and yellows across the table to the man in the slot to be cashed.
* * * * *
Davitt hurried across the street and up to the livery. It was the work of minutes to saddle his horse, which he did himself. Shortly after, he rode down the street to where the road started for the lowlands. As soon as he was out of the town and into the mouth of the gulch, dimly lighted by the night lights of moon and stars, he drew rein. It was perhaps ten minutes before he spied the familiar form of Bill Mady on a horse, riding toward him.
“I had to break a promise to my cow friend to take this trip with you,” he told Mady in a cold, level voice. “Let’s make it as short as we can.”
“Won’t take us more than an hour,” growled Mady, “if your horse can run and we don’t stay here talking. C
ome on!”
He spurred his mount and, with Davitt following and keeping a sharp look out along the sides of the road and behind, rode at a thundering pace down out of the mouth of the cañon into the sweep of the hills. They kept to the road for a distance which Davitt estimated as about four miles and then swerved to the left on a side trail that wound along the ridges and necessarily had to be negotiated at much slower speed.
Davitt’s gun was in his hand, as he had warned Mady that he would shoot him down without hesitation at first sign of an ambush or any other trap. Mady had merely laughed and had said he could bring his friend along if he wished. But Davitt hadn’t seen fit to do this since he had decided not to permit Buck to take the risk.
For Mady was taking him to the secluded cabin of the cheap road agent, Dommey, the alleged leader of the hold-up the night before. In the matter of identification there could be no question, for Davitt was certain he would be able to recognize the night raider at sight.
In a moderate space of time the trail swung down to a clearing in a clump of firs and they brought their horses to a halt.
“There you are,” Mady said gruffly, pointing to a dim light in the window of a solitary cabin on the farther rim of the clearing.
“We’ll leave the horses here,” Davitt said crisply, “and go over and have a peek through the window to make sure of our man.”
“Go ahead, I’ll wait,” grumbled Mady. “I’ve done my part in bringing you here and the rest is up to you. But remember, there’s to be no killing.”
Davitt felt doubly certain that he had been correct in detecting a note of subtle mockery in Mady’s tone. “You better come along, Bill,” he said suavely, “I might not be sure of my man.” He slipped from his saddle and stood in the shadow while Mady muttered and finally dismounted.
They stole across the clearing to the cabin. Davitt’s glances were darting everywhere, but he saw no horses or any movement to disturb the quiet of the night or arouse his suspicions. He kept an alert eye on his companion as they cautiously approached the window. The moment they reached it, Davitt saw it was curtained and that it would be impossible to see within.
Three Trails to Triangle Page 18
