Rainbow Range

by Robert J. Horton

  But McCurdy shook his head. “I won’t do it, Ed,” he said slowly. “Here Ted came back from town expecting that the news of the row had got here ahead of him, as it always had before. He was glad it hadn’t. He told me … ‘For once I’ll have a chance to tell him myself’ … meaning to tell you. He went in there to give you the details and you turned him down flat with a mean remark. Wait a minute! It won’t do you any good to get mad. You wouldn’t let him tell you himself when he wanted to, and now you want to double-cross him and get the story behind his back. Go right ahead and get sore, but you won’t get the story from me, and I’ll fire any man under me that lets out a word of anything he hears. That’s flat.”

  Ed Wayne stared at his foreman in astonishment. Then he cooled again and tugged at his mustache, which was a sure indication of one of two things—either he was mad or thinking deeply.

  “I suppose you know,” he said coldly, “that I can ride into town, if I choose, and hear plenty.”

  “You can,” McCurdy agreed, “and you can hear plenty that isn’t so. You could have got the facts from Ted firsthand. He doesn’t lie. Seems to me that instead of gettin’ all het up about it, the squarest thing you can do is to wait and let Ted tell you when he comes back.”

  “Humph!” snorted the stockman. “Go out and look over things on the east range, for a change. The bunkhouse will still be here when you get back.”

  With this he stamped off toward the house, leaving McCurdy with a satisfied grin on his face.

  Chapter Four

  Ted Wayne sped eastward with the sun in his face and the endless green blanket of plains flowing before him. Riding his favorite horse, a magnificent gray, finest among the splendid thoroughbreds on the Whippoorwill, he sped over the grass at a swinging lope that would bring him into Rainbow with the twilight. He was in high spirits: a good horse, a trusty gun, an important mission before him, with danger lurking in the background—what more could a youth of strength and spirit desire? His mind was filled with the work entrusted to him by his father; he spurned the thought of using the letters his father had given him; he would find this Jim Hunter and bring him back to the WP if he had to rope him and drag him—so he thought.

  The great domain of the Bar A, Pete Arnold’s ranch, almost as large as the tremendous Whippoorwill, lay ahead, adjoining the WP on the east. Both ranches ranged south to the river and were divided by Alder Creek, which flowed almost in a straight line south from the scattered Crazy Mountains in the north. The creek boundary had been established years before, by Ed Wayne and Pete Arnold, and there had never been a dispute about water. Here was one instance where the affairs and association of two great stock ranches were tranquil.

  Ted rode between grazing herds of sleek WP cattle. The sun was barely well started on its climb into the eastern sky when he reached Alder Creek. He paused for a drink of the clear, cold water, and also watered his horse. Then he was off again into the east. There was no boundary fence between the two big ranches. He swung a bit to the southward, where he picked up the trail the Bar A cowpunchers took when riding into town. He passed more herds. These bore the Bar A iron. Fine cattle, fine range. His thoughts flashed to Polly Arnold. If he wanted her, he could have her! She had told him so herself. She was Pete Arnold’s only daughter, and he had no son. A wild, thrilling thought possessed him—to join the two ranches. But Ted put it aside instantly as unworthy of his love for Polly, just as he felt himself unworthy of her now. Well, he had more important matters to think about.

  He came to a long stretch of open plain where there were no cattle. Winter range, this, closer to the home ranch, which was off to the southwest. He looked in that direction and saw a bobbing speck against the horizon’s rim, which seemed close over a long, gentle rise in the plain. A lone rider, like himself, was abroad.

  The speck rapidly assumed the outline of horse and rider, coming in Ted’s direction. Some ranch hand on his way to the Bar A’s west range or to town, he surmised. But as they neared each other, he found, with a leap of his heart, that the approaching rider was a girl. It wasn’t long before he recognized Polly Arnold in the saddle of her spanking mare. Polly rode often, and alone, and far abroad, as he well knew. He greeted her with a flourish of his big hat and a bow as they reined in their horses on meeting.

  “Polly, you look as sweet as honey, and ride the same,” Ted greeted.

  “That’s a pretty compliment from a rider who must have started early in the morning.” She laughed. “Going to the ranch?”

  “Nope. Which reminds me that I haven’t been over there for some time,” returned Ted, looking off to southward.

  “You’re always welcome, Ted,” the girl said seriously.

  “Well, maybe,” said Ted, toying with his reins. “That is, in some directions, like yours, Polly. But I don’t think your dad ever declared a holiday because I came over.” He grinned amiably.

  “That isn’t fair, Ted,” said Polly soberly. “Dad’s never been anything but nice to you. He doesn’t like some of the things you do, perhaps, any more than your own father does. But he doesn’t dislike you.”

  “That’s the girl,” sang Ted gaily. “Can you get that horse over any closer?”

  Polly flushed, then: “This is open country, but it may be full of prying eyes, just the same. Where are you going, Ted?”

  “Out Rainbow Butte way. It won’t take me long, I reckon. If I can, I’ll stop on the way back.”

  But she was looking at him steadily. “Ted Wayne, are you going to Rainbow?” she asked.

  “May have to go there before I get back,” he returned. “What time did you get home last night?”

  “It was late. But I thought you’d had enough of towns for a while, Ted. And now you’re heading for Rainbow? Did you … have you had trouble with your father?” she asked anxiously.

  “Not a bit, Polly. He hadn’t heard about the trouble in town and wouldn’t let me tell him about it. Said he wasn’t interested … can you beat that? Said he wouldn’t let anybody else tell him, either. That’s straight, Polly.”

  The girl wrinkled her pretty brows in perplexity. But it was plain she didn’t doubt Ted’s statement in the least. “That’s funny,” she remarked. “Are you sure he hadn’t heard of it, Ted? The news got out here.”

  “I’m sure, Polly,” he assured her. “And it naturally would get out here, what with some of your men staying over and others taking this trail east. Don’t worry, Dad scorched me with a few remarks on the side that sort of got under the skin. Want to ride along with me a ways?”

  “About two miles, Ted, for I was about to turn back down to the house when I sighted you. I came on out of pure curiosity. But listen, Ted, it hurts me to see you riding off to Rainbow like this. We all know the kind of a town Rainbow is and the kind of a crowd that hangs out there. I … I can’t help being worried.” Her eyes were misty and Ted dreaded the sight of tears unless he could kiss them away.

  “Can you keep a secret, Polly?” he asked quickly.

  “Why … with you? Of course.” Her eyes widened and the mist disappeared.

  “All right, girlie,” he said cheerily, “here it is. Dad is sending me into the Rainbow Butte country on business for him. It’s important, more important than I can tell you, for I gave my word there were certain things I wouldn’t tell to anyone. This job took the sting out of what he told me about the … the trouble. I’m not going into Rainbow to celebrate. But you mustn’t mention any of this to anyone. Now what!”

  Polly looked at him for a space, and her eyes softened, then shone. She edged her horse close to his and leaned from the saddle to meet his kiss. “C’mon, we’ll race!” she taunted, and they were off, with Ted gallantly holding the gray in check just enough to keep the girl slightly in the lead.

  When they had run the two miles and reined in, Polly shook her quirt at him and accused him out of laughing eyes: “You’re a fraud, Ted Wayne. You held your horse back on purpose and I’m just as bad, for I let you do it. You k
now that gray can run rings around my mare, and everybody on our ranch, and yours, too, knows it. So there!”

  “My horse is a gentleman,” Ted retorted severely. “You wouldn’t expect him to run ahead of a lady in a friendly race, would you? You going on to the house? Well, come here and get your prize for the race.”

  Five minutes later Ted was again speeding his lonely way east, with the purple pile of Rainbow Butte far ahead, and Polly was riding swiftly toward the Bar A ranch house with a song in her heart and another on her lips. But before she reached home she was seriously thinking about Ted’s remark about her father, and Ted’s visits. When she finally rode into the courtyard at the house, she felt vaguely disturbed. She turned her mount over to a hand and went to her room to change from her riding habit and to think.

  Ted had to pass close to a large herd near the eastern boundary of the Bar A range, beyond which rolled the tumbled country leading to the badlands of the butte, and here he encountered Frank Payne, the Bar A range boss.

  “’Lo, Ted,” Payne greeted, eyeing him sharply.

  “Hello, Frank,” Ted responded, reining in his horse. “How’s tricks?”

  “Good grass,” replied Payne, which was a saying employed on the range signifying that everything was all right. “Reckon you feel a lot better today than Jake Barry. Anyway, you look a lot better.”

  Ted was instantly alert. “So you’ve heard about it,” he said. “But how do you know I look better than Jake?”

  “Seen him a while back,” drawled Payne. “Rode past here about an hour ago with two others. Hittin’ for Rainbow, I take it. Must have cleaned the Riverdale drugstore out of court plaster, by the looks of him. Could hardly see, by looks of his eyes. Got some water at the spring below here. One of the boys rode in last night with the news.”

  “Went on straight east?” Ted inquired.

  “You have it. What’re you doin’ … followin’ him up?”

  Ted shook his head. “Don’t want to meet up with him or any of his crowd. I’m not looking for more trouble and I wasn’t looking for trouble yesterday. He started it and I finished, and I guess I was lucky at that.”

  “What they tell me doesn’t sound like luck,” said Payne. “And it was smart of you to stop gun play. You know Jake and the crowd he travels with are bad medicine, I take it?” He spoke in a questioning tone of voice.

  “Don’t know much about ’em”—Ted frowned—“but I’ve heard that. Travels with the Darling outfit, doesn’t he?”

  “So they say, and that doesn’t sound none too good. I’d keep one eye ahead and one behind, Wayne. Those people don’t care how they get a man, as long as they get him.”

  Ted leaned forward in the saddle, his hands on the horn, and looked at Payne intently. “Do you know anything I ought to know, Frank?” he asked seriously. “I’m going over there on business and I’m not looking for trouble.”

  Payne thought for several moments. “Can’t tell you a thing,” he said finally, “except that Jake will be gunnin’ for you as soon as he can see good enough to shoot straight. He can do that, you know, and … he’s fast. He’s runnin’ with Darling’s outfit all right, and I’ve heard roundabout that Darling has a bunch of men cached over east of the butte … more’n usual. You heard anythin’?”

  “Not a word,” replied Ted, catching a note of concern in Payne’s voice. “You don’t reckon he figures on working west of the butte, do you?”

  “I’m the same as you,” was the answer. “Don’t know a thing. But seems to me I smell something in the air. For one thing, I don’t figure Jake’s idea in pickin’ on you. Ever had any trouble before?”

  “Hardly knew him,” said Ted with a scowl. “Fact, I only knew him by sight. And he wasn’t drunk like he tried to make out, either.”

  “What did your dad think about it, if I ain’t gettin’ too personal?” Payne asked.

  “Doesn’t know a thing about the business. Nobody beat me to the ranch with the story, and Dad wouldn’t let me tell him. Acted queer about it, although he scorched me on the side. If it’s going to be guns …”

  “Draw on sight!” Payne broke in sharply.

  “And I don’t like the idea,” said Ted grimly. “Oh, I’m not afraid of him, but I don’t like to be forced into a shooting like this. He thought he could break me into pieces when he called me out in Riverdale, and he got fooled. But when it was over, he didn’t give me the word you’re talking about. Well, I’ll be moving on, Frank. I want to make Rainbow before dark.”

  “I’d take the trail on the west bank when I got to Rainbow Creek, if I was you,” Payne suggested. “It’s rough, but it’s not much traveled and you’d be less likely to meet up with anybody. There’s no sign of it when you first hit the creek, but turn down on the west side and you’ll run across it in about a quarter of a mile. So long, Wayne, and I’m wishin’ you luck.”

  “Thanks, Frank.” Ted smiled. “Maybe I’ll need it, at that.”

  Ted stopped at a spring a little after noon, watered his horse, loosened the cinch strap of the saddle, and ate the modest lunch he had brought along in his slicker pack. He rested for an hour while his horse grazed on the luscious grass, and then continued on his way.

  He was now in the rough section southwest of the butte, which loomed close at hand, it seemed, swimming in a sea of color. There were clumps of alder and occasional cottonwoods, and in midafternoon he reached the wooded banks of Rainbow Creek. Here he took Frank Payne’s advice and turned south on the west side of the creek without crossing the stream. He had to pick his way over hard going for some time until he came to the trail that had been described by the Bar A range boss.

  It was slow going on this trail, and he was tempted more than once to push his way across the creek to the main trail on the east side. Late in the afternoon he brought his horse up suddenly, scanning the trail ahead. He dismounted so as better to read the sign he had seen. In the trail were fresh tracks left by horses a short time before. As he was puzzling over this, he heard a crackling in the brush along the creek. He flung himself into the saddle and dashed perilously along the trail, obsessed with the conviction that he was being followed. At the first opening in the brush, willows and tree growth along the stream, he turned in. For some time he waited, listening for the sound of hoof beats. None came. The sun was sinking fast in its drop behind the western peaks when he forded the creek and emerged on the other side. He had no sooner made the open plain, with the well-worn main trail in sight, than a gun barked in the timber and a bullet whined past his head.

  He drove in his spurs and leaned low over his horse’s neck, in the start of what he knew was to be a race to Rainbow.

  Chapter Five

  There had been no more shots as Ted swept along the trail across the plain, straight for the town of Rainbow. He looked behind, but saw no one in pursuit. Indeed, he had no fear of being overtaken from that quarter, for the gray could easily outdistance any horse on the range, and surely none of the Darling outfit could have one better. So he reasoned. But ahead lay the thin line of breaks where the creek joined the river, and where the town was located. It was a perfect spot for an ambush.

  The sun had splashed into its pot of gold behind the western mountains, and Ted had lost time by taking the hard trail on the west side of the stream. He let the gray out and the horse ran for the pure joy of it, its mane and tail flying in the wind—a streak of gray in the golden glow of the sunset.

  Ted pondered over the mystery of the shot from the trees. He linked it with the noise he had heard when he was examining the tracks in the west trail. But if anyone had wished to pot him, why hadn’t he done so at that time when Ted was afoot and an easy mark? And how had this assailant known he was coming? Did Darling have a lookout stationed at the creek where the main trail crossed it? And the tracks in the west trail? Ted assumed that Jake Barry and his two companions had cut down from the Bar A range and made the trail at a point considerably below where he had come upon it. But these things
were behind him. He gazed steadily ahead as he raced for the band of dark green that traced the course of the river to southward.

  The twilight had come over that vast, brooding land when Ted reached the shadow of the trees along the river. Ahead he could see a single point of yellow light that shone in the town. The trail was wider here, and Ted spoke to the gray sharply and signaled with his spurs. The horse straightened out in a burst of terrific speed, and they plunged into the shadow. Ted was nearly thrown as his mount swerved suddenly to the left at a sharp bend in the trail. Then they were pounding across a wooden bridge and up a steep slope. Ted’s gun was in his hand, but there were no shots, no signs of ambush. In another few moments they dashed out of the timber, with the lights of the town straight ahead. It was just come dark as Ted rode into the dusty main street of Rainbow.

  After he had put up his horse, he made his way to the one hotel the town boasted and arranged for a room. There was no need to register; he paid in advance and was given a key. Rainbow apparently had no need for names of new arrivals. He crossed the street to a café and ate his supper. He doubted if many in the town would recognize him, and what if they did? And it seemed incredible that news of his coming could have reached town unless—and there was scarce possibility of this—he had been observed by hostile eyes leaving the Whippoorwill or crossing the Bar A range that morning. If Jake Barry were in town, he would be sure to keep out of sight with his face in such a condition as Frank Payne had described. His companions could hardly be expected to take up Jake’s quarrel, for Ted knew full well that Jake would never sanction such a move. Therefore, Ted’s first duty was to make the rounds of the various resorts in an effort to locate Jim Hunter, providing the latter was in town.

  A visit to half a dozen small places failed to yield a glimpse of anyone even remotely resembling the disfigured features of the man Ted was seeking. He had purposely left the largest place of its kind until the last, as he wished to visit it late. This was The Three Colors, a resort of pretentious dimensions with three stripes of yellow, black, and red painted across its high false front. Yellow lamplight streamed from its windows and wide-open doorway. Within all was in uproar, and Ted entered to find himself instantly swallowed by a milling throng about the gaming tables and the two long bars, one on either side of the big room.