Rainbow Range

by Robert J. Horton

  In the darkest point in the alley, with no light save the dull beam ahead, Wayne was suddenly hurled forward upon his face by the force of an impact from behind, a body that was flung upon him, striking him high in the back. Instantly there were others upon him, his arms and legs were grasped, a hand closed over his mouth.

  The suddenness of the unexpected attack left him an easy prey for several moments. Then, as his assailants were in the act of gagging him with a handkerchief and drawing his wrists back to be bound, he rallied his full strength and a terrific struggle began. He wrenched his hands free, struck out, and grasped an ear, which he twisted with all his might. A howl of pain shattered the stillness of the night.

  “Let him have it!” came the command in a hoarse voice.

  Wayne didn’t know if this meant to shoot him or to hit him on the head. But to do either was an uncertainty in the dark and the tangle of arms and legs and twisting, struggling bodies. He knew they had to knock him out one way or another quickly or take to their heels, for the yelling of the man whose ear he had twisted would speedily bring others to the spot. That this was the work of Jake Barry’s crowd he didn’t doubt for a moment, and even in those minutes of conflict he sensed the reason why Barry would want him captured and brought to him unscathed.

  He had determined there were three against him, but could not be sure there in the inky black of the narrow alley. To hit him accurately was a problem for his attackers, for heads bumped together, arms and legs were entwined—guns, naturally, were useless. If the man Wayne believed to be Hunter heard the disturbance, as he must have, he evidently decided it was a common brawl, for he didn’t come back to the scene.

  “Get him!” the hoarse voice repeated.

  Then Wayne went limp from a blow on the head as a beam of yellow lamplight suddenly shot upon the scene. Instantly the weight upon Wayne’s body was lifted, and he heard the dull echoes of scurrying feet. He got up, dazed, and an arm was thrown about his shoulders. A hand upon his arm guided him into an open doorway. A door slammed behind him and he was shoved into a room that was dark.

  “Don’t talk,” said a cool, low voice.

  A match flared, and, when the lamp was lighted, Wayne saw it was on a green-topped table. There were several chairs about. It was unmistakably a card room at the rear of some resort. The beam of light had come from the rear door of the place that his rescuer had thrown open. And now Wayne looked closely at the man who stood back from the lamp, regarding him steadily. It was Green, the gambler who had borrowed the $10,000 from Henseler but a short time before.

  Green motioned him into a chair and, as Ted felt of the lump swelling on the side of his head, said in a low tone: “Hurt much?”

  Wayne shook his head. “Slipped off,” he said wryly.

  The gambler drew up a chair. “I saw you running after Hunter, and I saw those others following you across the street. I hurried around and through this place expecting to find … what I found.” With this simple explanation he took out his cigarette case and drew out a smoke.

  “I’m sure much obliged,” said Wayne with a scowl as he remembered the odds against him. “Must have been at least three of them.”

  Green lighted his cigarette carefully. “There were that many,” he said, continuing to speak in a low, easy tone. “Why were you running after Hunter?”

  Wayne was thrilled to learn that he had been right in surmising the man he had followed to be Hunter, but he resented the question.

  “I have some private business with him,” he replied coldly.

  “Well, you’re going about the transacting of it in a very poor way,” said the gambler dryly. “I suppose you know you were in for it if that bunch had got the best of you tonight.”

  “I suppose so.” Wayne nodded. Why was this gambler so interested in his affairs? This question was answered when Green spoke again.

  “Maybe you think I’m butting in, and I am. That was Jake Barry’s crowd, or part of them, after you tonight. I haven’t got anything special against Jake, for he knows enough to let me alone, but I’m not exactly stuck on his style, either. I heard about the ruckus over in Riverdale. Don’t know how it started, and don’t care, but I’m obliged to admire your handiwork, and that’s why I’m taking an interest in you. I hope you got all this clear.”

  “I got it clear,” Wayne returned bitterly. “Jake’s out to get me any way he can. I licked him once and I can lick him again, and he knows it.”

  “Not in this town, you can’t,” said Green softly. “Wayne, you haven’t got a chance here.”

  “Maybe not. Anyway, I’m not looking for trouble. I’m here on business, and, when I’ve finished my business, I’m gone. If Barry can get to me before then, all right. He can have any brand of trouble he wants.”

  The gambler’s eyes were glistening. “He won’t be out until that face of his looks like it used to,” he observed. “I suppose Henseler tipped you off. You must know him or you wouldn’t have been in his private office.”

  “Tipped me off to what?” said Wayne in surprise. Was Green merely fishing for information? Had he had some ulterior motive in interfering this night? Suspicion glimmered in Wayne’s eyes and Green saw it—and smiled.

  “Didn’t he tip you off to keep under cover?”

  “Say, I don’t get you at all,” flared Wayne. “And what’s more, I don’t like so confounded much mystery. You’re on the inside here, and I’m on the level and out in the open. I want to see Hunter and I don’t care a hang who knows it. If that satisfies you, all right. It’s all I’ve got to say. You did me a favor tonight, although I don’t know why, or I wouldn’t tell you this much.”

  “I wouldn’t tell anybody else, if I were you,” was the cold rejoinder. “So far as I know, you’re the only man in this town that is out in the open. You can make what you can out of that. Also, so far as I know, Miles Henseler and I are the only two here who know why you’re here. This isn’t Riverdale, by a long shot. I don’t take an interest in every Tom, Dick, or Harry that happens to drift in here. Remember that. And it was a mere accident that I happened to get in on the play tonight. I didn’t have to take a hand. You don’t have to tell me a thing.”

  Green rose abruptly and Wayne looked up into the cool gray eyes of the gambler. The lips were expressionless, the lean face calm. There was nothing to indicate that the man was offended, yet Wayne had a feeling that Green was washing his hands of him. Behind that cold exterior there must be some feeling. Certainly there was a vast amount of knowledge. It struck Wayne on the instant that here was a man he might well try to make his friend.

  He rose and held out his hand. “I didn’t mean to be … I’m upset,” he said simply. “I’m not used to having men play in the dark. I’ve told you all I can. I’m here to see Jim Hunter and I thought I recognized him by the description I had of him when he was in the hotel lobby tonight. Henseler told me to go to my room and wait for him until morning, but I thought I saw a chance to get to Hunter without delay. That’s the lay.”

  Green took the hand extended to him for a brief instant. “I thought so,” he said. “And that’s the thing for you to do. I’ll walk to the hotel with you. You’re safe with me. Jake has a bad bunch running with him. Every move you make is watched. You can bet your stack on that. And there isn’t a chance in the world for you to see Hunter tonight. Fair enough?”

  Wayne was convinced the gambler was speaking the truth. “Fair enough,” he decided readily.

  “Then come along,” said Green. He led the way out of the room and out of the rear door into the black shadow of the alley. They passed quickly to the street, and, as they emerged upon the short main thoroughfare, a pistol barked in the darkness behind them. Green whirled and his gun blazed three times, the shots coming in such lightning order that they seemed almost a single burst of fire. He drew Wayne quickly in front of a building and headed for the hotel.

  “Schoolboy work,” he said scornfully. “Warning me off, I expect. That shot wasn’t orde
red by Jake, you can bet on that.”

  Wayne took off his hat and pointed to the bullet hole in it.

  “Trying to scare you,” scoffed the gambler, “and me, too. This town is tough, but it isn’t tough enough to shoot a man down from behind. Not yet, it isn’t.” He kept his gun hand inside his coat, and Wayne knew his weapon was carried in a shoulder holster.

  “I’m going to have to shoot it out with Barry yet,” said Wayne in a matter-of-fact voice.

  “I expect you will,” Green agreed, “but Jake will want to tell you a few things first. That’s why you’re safe unless they grab you.”

  Wayne was thinking hard. If the gambler was ready to shoot in his defense, there must be something besides a mere interest in all this. In the instant Green had replied to the warning shot, Wayne had become imbued with a profound respect for the gambler’s prowess with his weapon. Here was a man of guns as well as a man of the green-topped tables and purring wheels.

  There were people in the street now, but they hurried on to the hotel, leaving a small throng to congregate behind them. Green sauntered in with Wayne and bought a cigar from the fishy-eyed man. They strolled into the little parlor, where a lamp was burning low on the table. Green jerked down the window shades. Wayne could not help but admire the cool, calm poise of the man as he took a cigarette from his case and lighted it with a hand steady as steel.

  “That shot was an accident,” he said slowly, sending a smoke ring spiraling toward the ceiling. “But Barry is out to get you, and I can tell you that flat. Watch your step. I think Hunter is going out in the morning, but Miles will likely be here beforehand. You better go to bed. Good night.”

  Wayne went upstairs, angry, perplexed, but most of all impressed by the queer personality of the man he had just left. His room was at the rear of the hall, with a window looking out on the courtyard between the hotel and the livery. He saw the pale yellow glow of the lantern in the entrance to the barn. There was no life. He did not light the lamp, but, after securing the door, pulled off his boots and lay down on the bed, fully dressed.

  Chapter Seven

  Pink streamers of the dawn were floating above the eastern horizon when Wayne woke from a restless sleep to the sound of guns. He sat bolt upright in bed, his hand seeking his weapon, before he realized sheepishly that the sounds he heard came from a thumping at his door. He rose hastily and opened the door cautiously. Miles Henseler pushed his way into the room.

  “Humph! Thought you ’punchers were early birds,” he grunted. “The sun will be up in a minute.”

  “I didn’t have anything to get up for until you got here, as I took it last night,” said Wayne. “I reckon you’ve been up all night.”

  “You said it,” growled Henseler, “and looking after your business, or trying to look after it. I didn’t connect with Hunter. Haven’t any idea where he was after he got in last night. And now I hear he rode out of town less than an hour ago.” He sat down on the edge of the bed and scowled. “How important is this business you got to see him about?”

  “Dog-goned important,” said Wayne irritably. “I’m sorry I stuck in here this morning. I saw Hunter last night and like a fool I tried to make too sure it was him. Where has he gone?”

  “I don’t know,” replied Henseler. “He rode north. But now that I’ve started this thing, I’m going to see it through. I owe that much to your dad. I’ll send a man with you and maybe you can catch him.”

  “Never mind the man,” Wayne retorted, buckling on his gun belt. “Just give me the direction. I don’t want to act brassy, but I ride alone.”

  Wayne was not in the best of humor this morning. He had a notion that for some reason Hunter was being kept from him. He was disgusted with the veil of mystery that had been thrown over the man and his movements, and now he intended to find him and convey his message regardless of anything else.

  “Don’t be too independent,” said Henseler sharply. “Your dad sent you to me for assistance, which I’m giving you. It wouldn’t be any too safe for you to go cavorting around these parts, looking for Hunter on your own.”

  “I’m sick and tired of all this undercover business,” said Wayne bluntly, pouring some water from a pitcher into the basin on the washstand. “I want to see Hunter, and today. All I’m asking is a tip as to where I can stand a chance of finding him.” He began his ablutions with this terse remark.

  Henseler’s eyes had narrowed a bit and his face reddened. “You talk right smart for a man who’s come to me for help,” he said testily.

  “Didn’t mean it that way,” Wayne retorted, using the towel. But …” He flung the towel aside. “Did you hear about my fuss with Jake Barry over in Riverdale?”

  “Yes, and that wasn’t so smart, either,” said Henseler.

  “He started it and I finished it … over there,” said Wayne grimly. “If he wants to start it all over again here, I’ll finish it for good. Some of his crowd took a shot at me from the dark last night. Maybe you heard about that? No? Well, I’ve a hunch you will. It looks like there was some kind of a conspiracy to keep me from meeting Hunter, although I don’t know why. I’m not going to fan my ears in the sun, waiting.”

  He saw Henseler’s face darken. His speech was having the effect he intended. If the resort proprietor got mad enough, he might tell him where he could find Hunter, and let it go at that, for better or worse. And this was exactly what happened.

  Henseler rose from the bed. “All right, my young buckaroo,” he said sternly. “You’re the doctor. I’ve done my part, and your dad can’t blame me for anything that happens. Jim Hunter rode out a little while ago before I could catch him. He went north toward the Rainbow Butte badlands. Maybe that’ll mean something to you, but if it doesn’t … go it alone, and good luck!” With this he went out, slamming the door.

  Ted Wayne put on his hat with a grim smile of satisfaction.

  At the expense of angering Henseler, he had learned the destination of Hunter and verified a suspicion that had been growing in his mind. So far as he knew, the only individuals who frequented the wild section east of the butte were members of the Darling gang. Since Hunter was evidently bound for the badlands, it might easily be assumed that he was going to see Darling. It might even be that Hunter was a member of the band, perhaps one of Darling’s lieutenants. This would explain the cloak of secrecy thrown about him. Wayne remembered the mysterious rapping on the partition of Henseler’s private office the night before. This had been no ordinary signal. Whoever had rapped was no ordinary person. It might have been Hunter. It might have been Darling himself.

  Wayne hurried downstairs to the dining room. He felt better now that he was once more on his own, as he thought. There was no one in the dining room, so he went into the kitchen, where he had no trouble getting a breakfast of bacon and eggs, bread, and coffee. He gulped his food and would not have waited to eat had he not anticipated hard riding ahead this day. There was no telling where the trail would lead him. He took a substantial lunch to put in his slicker pack.

  The liveryman was up and about and greeted Wayne with a cheery good morning. Wayne didn’t know him, but, when he went to get his horse, the man followed him. Wayne looked at him closely as he took down his saddle. He was a tall, stoop-shouldered man with drooping gray mustache and a face seamed and lined by exposure to range weather.

  “I see your horse wears the WP iron,” the man ventured.

  Wayne nodded. “In plain sight all the time,” was his comment.

  “You’re from the Whippoorwill, then,” the liveryman said.

  “Yep. My name’s Wayne. Know anybody out there?”

  “Guess you’re Ed Wayne’s son, then,” said the other. “I used to know your dad, if you’re young Wayne.”

  “I’m that same person,” said Ted. “Reckon you’re range stock. You look it, anyway.”

  “I’ve had rain in my face,” said the liveryman dryly. “Your dad was a good sort. Good outfit to work for, I heard. Never threw a rope for Ed
, though. Goin’ back today?”

  Wayne shook his head. He was speculating as to just how far he could go with this man. He decided to take a chance, since the liveryman knew of his outfit, and was to all appearances a former cowman.

  “How long since Jim Hunter left?” he asked bluntly.

  The liveryman didn’t start or show any signs of uneasiness. He looked at Wayne coolly, quizzically. “Little over an hour ago,” he answered with no attempt at evasion.

  Wayne tightened his cinch strap. “I’m looking for Hunter on business, and these folks around here have steered me around the bush until it seems like school play,” he said. “I was told straight he was headed for the breaks around the butte, or somewhere out there. If you’ll keep it to yourself, I’ll tell you that I’m going to follow him.”

  “Riders come in and out through this stable and it’s none of my business where they’re from or where they’re goin’ … so long as they pay their score,” drawled the liveryman. But he continued to eye Wayne keenly.

  “Would Hunter take the main trail on the east bank of the creek?” asked Wayne casually.

  “Those who come and go don’t admire to have their movements talked about much,” said the liveryman. “They never tell me anything, unless it’s some ’puncher who’s just been in for a turn at the card tables. When did you get in?”

  “Last night. I missed Hunter by a hair. It wasn’t my fault that I missed him this morning. If you knew of my dad, you know he’s a square shooter. He brought me up the same way. I’m trailing Hunter on business that has nothing to do with this town, or this part of the country, or anybody in it. It’s important, or I wouldn’t be starting out blind, alone.”

  “I see.” The other nodded. “Well, there’s two trails north. One is on the east bank of the creek, and the other turns off a mile beyond the bridge and runs northeast. I expect you can read a sign in the dust.” With this, the liveryman turned away, walking slowly to the front of the barn.