He found his father sitting in the big, green wicker rocking chair, as he knew he would find him. “’Lo, Dad,” he greeted.
“Sit down,” said Ed Wayne, indicating a chair to one side and slightly ahead of his own where he could see his son to good advantage. “Why didn’t you come back with the rest of the boys?” he demanded as Ted took the chair.
Ted’s brows went up in surprise. “Why, I’ve always stayed in town a day or two longer than the rest of the bunch,” he answered. “You’ve never objected.”
“You don’t feel that you’re a part of this outfit, do you?” said his father in that cool, smooth voice he always used on such occasions, a voice that Ted didn’t like.
“I don’t see why you should ask me that,” Ted returned a bit sharply. “I’ve rode with ’em, worked with ’em, gambled with ’em, and fought with ’em. I wouldn’t do that with an outfit if I didn’t think I belonged.” His father had been looking at him intently and he expected the explosion to come with his next remark. But it didn’t.
“Very well,” said Ed Wayne in a voice that lost some of its stern fiber. “But it might have pleased me if you’d come along with the outfit just once. But I couldn’t expect you to think of that. After all, I’m seeing that I can’t expect very much from you. It looks like …”
“Now listen, Dad,” Ted broke in, “you can expect just what you ask for. I can’t remember more’n a dozen times that you’ve given me a definite order on this ranch. I’ve worked with Mac and taken his orders, and carried ’em out, as he’ll tell you, but you didn’t seem to care whether I took orders from anybody or not.”
Ed Wayne leaned forward in his chair. “Are you throwing that up to me?” His eyes were flashing angrily because he knew his son was speaking the truth. “I’ve given you one order … not given, but begged. I’ve asked you to keep out of brawls … now deny that.”
“So somebody’s beat me to it again,” said Ted with a trace of bitterness. “Well, let’s have it. I’ve stood it before and I can stand it again. But I’m thinking that these pony express riders who go racing around the range could find business of their own to attend to if they looked for it.”
“And just what do you mean by that?” said the stockman.
“Exactly what I said,” Ted snapped back in a tone he never before had used in speaking to his father. “I had thought that for once I would be able to tell you about a fracas before somebody else got to you. And this time I won’t try to explain anything or answer any questions. Whatever you’ve heard goes as you heard it.” Ted was angry.
“You’ve been in another fight?” his father asked quietly.
“And well you know it,” Ted snapped out.
“And you think somebody’s beat you here with the news?”
“I can read signs,” said Ted.
Ed Wayne rocked silent in his chair for a space. “I knew you had been in a fight,” he said finally. “I’m not blind yet, if I am old. I knew you’d been in a scrap soon as I put eyes on you. But no one has been here ahead of you, if that’s what’s in your head. There hasn’t been a soul on this ranch today that didn’t belong here. I’ll expect you to take my word for what I’ve said.”
Ted was staring at his father. No messenger! His father never lied. Then what was it all about? “All right,” he said grimly. “I’ll tell you about it myself, and I won’t leave out anything because I have the privilege. It was …”
“Just a minute.” His father held up his hand. “I don’t want to hear a word about it. Not a word. And if anybody else tries to tell me about it, I’ll close his trap as soon as he opens it, if I have to knock all his teeth out.”
Ted’s eyes now were wide with astonishment. It was some little time before he could find his tongue. “Whatever you’ve got on your mind, Dad,” he said, “you should hear about this mix-up. It’s … it’s important.”
“I don’t care how important it is,” his father said coolly. “I don’t want to hear about it. I’m no longer interested in your fights. If you want to go about the country getting into brawls that reflect on the ranch and on me, and make people think I brought you up to do this sort of thing, and that I’m agreeable, go right ahead. I’ve threatened to throw you off the ranch, but it was only a threat. I couldn’t throw you out if I wanted to, because you’re my son. That may mean something to you, but it probably won’t. I wanted you back a couple of days earlier because I have something for you to do … an order to give, for once.”
Ted was flushing through his tan. “I … didn’t know,” he stammered lamely. This was far worse than if his father had upbraided him and then ordered him to get out. For the second time since he had returned to the ranch he was at a loss to know what to think or do or say.
“We’ll go inside,” said Ed Wayne. “It’s getting dark out here.”
Ted followed his father into the big, comfortable living room where a large lamp shed its rays on the big center table from under an ornate shade. Ed Wayne sat down with an arm on the table and Ted took a place across from him. The stockman was drumming on the table with his fingers, a sure sign he had something weighty on his mind, as Ted well knew.
“Do you know, or have you ever heard of a man called Jim Hunter?” Ed Wayne asked.
Ted racked his brains. “Not that I can remember,” he answered at last.
“I expected that would be the case,” said his father. “Anyway, I want to see this Jim Hunter. I want to see him here in this very room as soon as I can. He’ll come if I can get the word to him. I’m going to send you out to look for him. I think you’re just smart enough to turn the trick.” He looked across at Ted for the first time and found his son’s eyes alive with interest.
Ted merely nodded.
“The last I heard of him,” Ed Wayne went on, “he was over in the Rainbow Butte country. Maybe he’s in Rainbow, and, if he isn’t there, you might get word of him there. I’m going to give you letters to two men over there who may be of use to you, and I’m going to describe him to you so well that you’ll know him on sight anywhere. There might be a little danger mixed up in this, but I don’t want you to take any chances. You must not take any chances, whether you get the word to Hunter or not. That’s an order. You understand?”
Ted’s eyes were flashing with excitement. Rainbow. The town where Jake Barry of the Darling gang was supposed to make his headquarters. He was glad now that his father hadn’t heard about the fight.
“I understand.” He nodded briefly.
“Don’t forget that particular order,” his father said sternly. “Here are the letters.” He drew two envelopes from his inside coat pocket and passed them over to Ted. “It won’t be hard to find those men, but don’t find ’em when they’re with anybody, and don’t tell anybody anything about your business. If you find Hunter, he’ll come back with you. You can tell him the second you see him. He’s a big fellow, yellowish sort of eyes … well, not yellowish, maybe, but queer-looking … dangedest light eyes you ever saw. You can’t miss him, because the end of his nose is shot off. You could tell him by his nose in any crowd. He isn’t what you’d call snub-nosed. And if any man called him Snub Nose, that man would never have use for any more words. I’ve never known him to be without a corduroy coat. If he’s changed any, one or both of those men you have the letters to will be able to tell you. Now … do you think you want to take on the job?” He looked again at his son, quizzically this time.
“I’m not only going to take on the job,” replied Ted, “but I’m going to find Jim Hunter and bring him back.”
Chapter Three
As Ted was leaving the room, his father called him back. He glanced at Ted’s empty holster—for Ted had merely discarded his gun in the kitchen and still wore his belt—and then looked his son squarely in the eyes. “Was there any shooting?” he asked succinctly.
“No,” replied Ted readily. “I saw to that.”
Ed Wayne nodded and satisfaction shone in his eyes. “That’s good, Ted. It’
s dangerous for a man to be as fast and sure with a shooting iron as you are, and you can make your gun your worst enemy.” He nodded absently. In his day, Ed Wayne had been listed with the best of them. He had several notches to his credit. Secretly he was proud of Ted’s prowess, but he dared not flaunt this pride openly. “You want to be right careful on this trip, Ted.”
“Is this Jim Hunter a gunfighter?” Ted asked curiously.
“When he has to be,” Ed Wayne returned.
“Will he know who I am? Maybe I ought to have some kind of identification, if he never has seen me.”
The stockman thought a moment. “I hadn’t thought of that,” he confessed. “But I would have thought of it before you left in the morning. Come in the office … no, go get your hat and bring it in with you.”
When Ted returned with the hat, his father sat at his desk in the little office off the living room. Before him was pen and ink. He took the hat, turned out the sweatband, and on its inside on the right inked his brand, WP, and after it he fashioned a crude wing.
“There,” he said, handing Ted his hat, “if he wants identification, show him that. I don’t have to tell you not to show it to anyone else, I reckon.”
Ted grinned. “I’d be likely to cut it out and wear it for a badge,” he said. For the first time that night Ed Wayne smiled.
The stockman sat at his desk, fingering the pen absently, staring straight ahead, thinking, and remained thus for a long time after Ted had left. He was sending Ted on an errand of much greater importance than the youth could realize. Several times he was tempted to change his mind and try to get word to Hunter in some other way. Had he listened to Ted and learned of the trouble his son had had with Jake Barry in town, Ted never would have been entrusted with the mission assigned him. He might change his mind yet, he thought, not knowing that Ted would not give him a chance to change it, that he would be on his way in the morning with the first faint glimmer of the dawn.
When Ted left the house, he hunted up Jack McCurdy and they sought seclusion in a corner of the nearly deserted bunkhouse.
“Listen, Mac, I’m not supposed to tell a soul a thing about this, but I know I can trust you, and maybe you can give me some information of the right brand,” said Ted. “You’ve had more than one confidence from me before and I reckon you can handle another. Am I right?”
“Right as rain,” said McCurdy with a nod.
“Don’t breathe a word of this, Mac,” said Ted earnestly. “Dad is sending me to find a man in the Rainbow Butte country and the first place I hit is the town of Rainbow itself. I’ve only been there once, and that was when I was a kid. But I know how to get there and I’ve been within a few miles of the town several times.”
“Why, you can’t miss it,” said McCurdy. “It’s just south of the butte, about halfway between the butte and the river on Rainbow Creek. Any trail out there will take you to town so long as you keep south of the butte. But holy smoke!” He paused and looked at Ted curiously.
“Yes, holy smoke.” Ted nodded. “Now where does this Darling gang hang out over there?”
“Isn’t that a question,” snorted McCurdy. “If they’re not working some job, they’re in town or in their hangout in the butte breaks. You know there’s a swamp east of the butte where the creek goes to pieces and runs everywhere before it gathers itself together again in the south. Tumbled country, willows and trees, and some soap holes, too, where the quicksand is fine as salt. Be careful about how you wander about there, boy, and, if you meet up with Jake, there’s goin’ to be fireworks. Funny to me the Old Man should send you over there after what happened in town.” He shook his head in perplexity.
“He doesn’t know a thing about what happened in town, Mac. Nobody has been along to tell him and he wouldn’t let me tell him, and, when I found out he wanted me to go over there, I wouldn’t have told him on a bet. Just asked me if there had been any shooting.”
“I see,” said McCurdy. “Who you goin’ over there to find?”
Ted hesitated, and then shook his head. “I can’t answer that, Mac,” he said slowly. “I expect you’ll understand. Maybe you’ll know the man I’m going for, and maybe you won’t … but I can’t tell you. But there’s one thing I want to ask you. Just how fast is this Jake Barry with his gun?”
“I thought it would come to that,” drawled McCurdy. “He’s fast, Ted, but he’s tricky. He’s awful tricky. After what you told him, he’ll be on the lookout. If you meet up with him, you must draw on sight. And make your draw good. Say, Ted”—he put an arm about the younger man’s shoulders—“I’m just in for a day or two and I’m supposed to go right back on the range. But I can sneak a day or two or three. Won’t you let me go with you, buddy?”
Ted shook his head. “It isn’t in the cards, Mac, old boy. I’ve got to do this alone. But you know how I appreciate it. And if I need you, I’ll send for you some way, don’t worry. One thing more, Mac. Are they antagonistic out there toward the WP?”
“They’re nothing else but!” exclaimed McCurdy. “That’s why I hate to see you go alone. But the whole outfit is ready and at your disposal. All we need is the word, and, if you’re not back in three days, out we come, whether you like it or not. Paste that in your hat!”
Ted put a hand on McCurdy’s knee. “You’re several kinds of a brick, Mac … but use your own judgment. Remember, we … I don’t want any gun play, but if it has to come …”
“I hope you’ll be first,” interrupted McCurdy grimly, “and I have a hunch you will.”
It was not yet daylight when Ted Wayne had his breakfast in the cookhouse and rode away on his charging gray—the best saddle horse on the ranch. McCurdy watched him go, and, if he harbored any misgivings, he kept them to himself. When old Ed Wayne rose an hour later, his son had gone.
“How long has he been gone?” the stockman asked McCurdy.
“Since about daylight,” replied the foreman. “Maybe an hour, maybe …”
“Look here, McCurdy,” Ed Wayne interrupted sternly. “Don’t be beating around any bushes with me, understand?” It was the harshest tone he ever used in speaking to his chief aide. But the rancher was annoyed this morning to the point of anger. He had wanted to see Ted before he started. He hadn’t been altogether sure that he wanted the youth to start on this mission alone. He had been disturbed by his ignorance of what had happened in town and had regretted some of the things he had said to Ted. He was not sure of himself and this was enough to upset him. “Did Ted tell you where he was going?” he demanded.
“Said he was riding over Rainbow Butte way,” drawled McCurdy. He knew Ed Wayne’s moods, and suspected what was coming. But he knew, too, that his services were of great value to the stockman, in more ways than just running the ranch, had been, for that matter, for many years. Like Ted, he was not afraid of the ranch owner.
“I see.” Wayne scowled. “How much did he tell you of what he was going over there for?”
“Said he was goin’ over to see somebody,” replied McCurdy. “But he didn’t tell me who he was goin’ to see. Took the big gray, so I don’t expect he’ll be long gone.”
“Is that all he said?” Wayne asked sharply.
McCurdy looked at him coolly. “Now, listen, Ed, if you’re tryin’ to get something out of me that I don’t know, you’ve got both feet stuck in the gumbo. I don’t know anything, and that’s all there is to it. You know me well enough …”
“I know both of you well enough to know you don’t keep anything from each other. But there were things I told Ted before I sent him out that I asked him to keep to himself. If he told you those things, then I’ve got something to tell you. If he didn’t, then I haven’t a thing to say.”
“I don’t know what the things were, so I can’t answer your question straight,” McCurdy retorted stoutly. “But I have strong reason to believe he didn’t tell me any of those things. He wouldn’t tell me what I wanted to know, if that’ll help you any.”
Wayne frowned doubtf
ully and tugged at his mustache. Then he tossed his head in a characteristic gesture that seemed to close the matter. “By the way, McCurdy,” he said casually, “Ted told me he had been in a fight in town yesterday, which I knew he had, of course, the minute I set eyes on him.”
“Yeah?” said McCurdy languidly. “Who was he fighting with?”
“Humph,” said the stockman with a scowl. “I didn’t let him tell me. I let on I wasn’t interested in any more of his fights, and, if he wanted to go on tearing up, to go ahead.”
“Well, then you haven’t got any kick coming.” The foreman nodded sagely.
“Of course, he told you about it,” the rancher went on, “and I knew I could get the details from you later. I just asked him, if there was any shootin’, and he said there wasn’t. Did he tell you that?”
“Yep,” replied McCurdy cheerfully. “I can vouch for that.”
“All right, let’s hear about the fight,” said Wayne briefly.
McCurdy was carefully rolling a cigarette. He now lighted it just as deliberately. “So you want to hear about the fight, Ed? And you wouldn’t let Ted tell you about it?”
“I thought it was best I didn’t let him tell me,” was the stockman’s answer. “I usually know something about the way to handle my business.” He was irritated by his foreman’s tone.
“But he wanted to tell you, didn’t he?” McCurdy asked blandly.
Ed Wayne was suddenly angry. “Look here, Mac,” he snapped out, his face reddening. “I don’t like the way you’re acting this morning. I had my own reasons for not wanting him to tell me about it. And I won’t let anyone else except you tell me about it. Of course I want to know, naturally have to know. You can see that. He told you … I’d lay a hundred head of shorthorns to that … so let’s hear about it.”
Rainbow Range Page 2
