Hunter looked up quickly. “So? Well, Arnold and me never could run in the same traces.” He paused, and old Ed remained silent. “I guess I’ll have to take this job on, Ed,” he said finally. “Now then, how’re we goin’ to go about it?”
For another half hour they talked in low tones. Ed Wayne brought forth a bottle of old bourbon and they took a drink. Then Hunter went to the bunkhouse where he was to sleep.
* * * * *
Ted Wayne had thought better of the impulse to burst in upon his father and Jim Hunter. After all, just what did he want to know from Hunter that he had the right to ask? He couldn’t very well delve into the man’s personal affairs openly. Even if he was certain and had proof of all he suspected, he could not bring the older man to task about it. He had been sent to find Hunter and deliver his father’s request that Hunter come to see him. This he had done, Hunter had agreed, and there Ted’s interest in the man’s business should end, except as to natural curiosity. Hunter would be leaving shortly and Ted regretted that his acquaintance with such an interesting character should come to an end.
He inquired for Jack McCurdy, but the foreman was out on the range. He walked about the courtyard between the ranch buildings and was in front of the big barn when Hunter came out of the ranch house and crossed to the bunkhouse. Wayne wondered just how much Hunter had told his father, but refrained from asking. He went into the living room. It was vacant, but the light was shining from the little office opening off from it. When Ted was seated across the desk from his parent, he found it was not to be so easy to say what he thought he had to say as he had expected.
“Well, I found him,” he ventured by way of an opening.
“Yes, Hunter says you caught up with him in the badlands over there,” his father remarked, examining a paper on his desk.
Then Hunter hadn’t said anything about the trouble near the butte, Ted thought. “It wasn’t as easy as you may think,” he said with a frown. “Did Hunter tell you anything about the trouble I had in finding him?”
“He said you missed him in town and had to chase out after him,” his father replied.
“Oh, yes?” Ted was irritated to hear this. “Well, it wasn’t my fault, in a way, that I missed him in town. You put so much mystery into this thing, along with your friend Miles Henseler over there, that I wanted to be dead sure I had the right man before I tackled him. That’s one reason why I missed him in town, and the other is because Henseler stalled me off.”
“He must have known what he was doing,” said Ed Wayne calmly.
“What’s the idea in all this mystery about Hunter, anyway?” Ted demanded. “It seems to me, if he’s such a dangerous person, and so touchy and all that, that you could have given me more of a line on him and how to go about your job.”
“You seem to have done very well,” his father observed.
“Is this Hunter in with that Darling outfit?” asked Ted.
His father raised his eyes for the first time since Ted had started speaking. “Just why do you ask that?” he countered.
“Because it looks to me as if he is,” Ted retorted stoutly. “What’s he hanging around Rainbow and those badlands for? There’s only one outfit that stays in the badlands over there any length of time, and that’s Darling’s gang. I can’t see why the owner of the WP should be wanting to see a member of that crowd.”
His father’s eyes grew cold. “We’ve known each other a long time,” he said slowly, looking Ted in the eyes. “We knew each other before you were born. I’m not sure what he’s doing now, but I was sure of what he did in the days when we were more or less together. That’s one reason why I wanted to see him, and the other doesn’t concern you. You can tell me something, though.”
“What’s that?” Ted asked angrily.
“Who’d you have this last fight in Riverdale with?”
“Haven’t you heard yet?” Ted’s brows went up. “Didn’t Hunter tell you?”
“I didn’t ask him to tell me, and I haven’t heard,” replied his father sternly. “I don’t mind saying that I might have let you tell me the other morning if you hadn’t lit out so early, and I did ask McCurdy, who wisely kept his mouth shut. So now you can tell me yourself.” His eyes shot the question.
“Jake Barry!” Ted exploded. “That’s who I had the fight with. Maybe you know how tough he is. I saw to it that we discarded our guns and the only way I could get the best of him was to close both his eyes so he couldn’t see. I suppose you know that he is one of Darling’s men.”
His father’s eyes were snapping. It was no mean trick to beat Barry in an encounter, and he felt rather inclined to be proud. But he couldn’t permit this feeling to interfere with his plan. The fact that it was Barry, however, who Ted had made an enemy worried him a little.
“I suppose it started in the usual way,” he said sarcastically.
“I don’t know just what that crack means, but Barry started it with his mouth,” said Ted, his face darkening. “I don’t think you’d have wanted me to take the slurs he shot at me. Tried to make out he was drunk, but I know the whole thing was intentional, although I don’t know why.” Ted was mad.
“It seems as though somebody is always picking on you,” his father observed. “This last stunt wasn’t very wise. Barry isn’t a good choice for an enemy.”
Ted stared at his parent with a look of incredulity, as if he were trying to believe his own ears. “You mean to say I … I should have stood there … and taken it?” he stammered, his face turning red.
Old Ed looked at the narrow slip of paper he was fondling. “You should use judgment in these affairs, if you have to have them, which I take it you do,” he said tersely. “I won’t stand for this continual round of brawls any longer. Every stockman on the range is wondering why I’ve stood for it so long. You’ve got so wild you’re practically no use on the ranch.”
“Then I better get off of it!” Ted exclaimed hotly.
“Maybe you’d better,” said his father. His tone was quiet but decisive. “You seem to want to run wild, so go and run wild.” He pushed the slip of paper across the desk. “There’s my check for five thousand dollars. You won’t have any trouble cashing it. If you don’t take it, I’ll know you’re a fool and not independent. Go ahead and run wild somewhere else besides around here. Take up with Hunter, if you think he’s so bad. He might be able to teach you a few tricks, at that.” The stockman smiled wryly, then he looked at Ted coldly. “There’s just one thing to remember … don’t come back here unless you’re ready.”
Ted’s first impulse as he fingered the check was to tear it up and throw the pieces into his father’s face. Instead, on second thought, he folded it carefully and stowed it in a pocket. “I guess it’ll be worth a loan of five thousand to get rid of me, the way you feel,” he said grimly. “I’ll be going in the morning.”
His face was white as he left the little office and went out upon the porch into the cool night air. But his mind, angry as he was, was made up instantly. He would take his father’s dare. He would trail with Hunter, if Hunter would let him. If he wouldn’t, he would follow him, anyway. For the first time in his life he was completely on his own. Adventure spread its far-flung carpet of mystery before him, and he stepped out upon it.
Chapter Thirteen
Ted Wayne walked under the stars among the lilac bushes and shrubs, and the few flower beds that his mother had planted and his father had kept up through the years. The night wind whispered in the leaves of the cottonwoods that formed the wind break. The grass in the yard was soft and thick, well watered. He saw the lights in the living room and office go out, and then a yellow beam shone from the window of his father’s bedroom. He shrugged. His father was throwing him out, with a string attached to the process. Don’t come back here unless you’re ready! Then he had been wrong these many months? His wrath flamed again. He thought his father would rather he had taken the vile things Jake Barry had said, rather than make an enemy of the man because he was
in with a crowd of cutthroats and bandits, outlaws every one, Yes, Hunter, too—probably. And what had his father wanted of Jim Hunter?
Somehow or other, Ted didn’t like the idea of his father’s sending for this man. He had seen them through the doorway of the living room, talking in low tones, and whatever had been said didn’t appear to have left Ed Wayne in any too good a humor. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to believe that Hunter was as bad as Arnold had painted him. The Bar A owner, in blackening the man’s character, had sought to injure Ted in the eyes of Polly. That was what Ted Wayne thought. His anger swelled again and the reaction drew him to Hunter rather than made him more suspicious.
He looked up at the dark windows of his own room. He had no desire to sleep there this night. He doubted if he would sleep at all. In the morning he would make a pack of the few things he intended to take along. His plans were vague. But the exhilaration of being free continued to grow. Why not go out and run wild, as his father had suggested? But he resolved to stay away from Riverdale. His activities must fit in with the proper environment. He walked around to the bunkhouse.
Jim Hunter was in bed in one of the bunks. His clothes and gun hung on the back of a chair near at hand. The lamp on the table was burning and Hunter was awake, looking at a paper he had found. He nodded to Wayne as the latter entered.
Wayne pulled off his boots, threw his hat on the table, hung his gun belt with its empty holster on a peg above a bunk at the side where he could see Hunter. He would fill that empty holster with another tried-and-true gun of his own in the morning. Jake Barry owed him a gun, perhaps his own gun. Wayne sat on the edge of the bunk, stealing glances at Hunter, who now seemed oblivious of his presence. For the first time doubt was kindled in his mind. Why should he want to trail along with this man, even if he would let him—which he probably would not? Why go out upon this wild adventure, as he thought of it, at all? And, if he changed his mind, go back to his father and say he didn’t want to go? Never! His teeth came together with a click. His frown bunched into a scowl.
“You act like you’re in the dumps.”
It was Hunter’s voice, and Wayne started. The man wasn’t looking at him, but he seemed to be aware of Ted’s mood. Now he shot a glance over the paper. It was keen and calculating, and seemed to read Wayne’s mind. Wayne felt that he resented it.
“I’m not in the best of humor,” he said.
“No? Well, you ought to be.” Hunter’s tone was short.
“Yeah?” Wayne bristled. “What makes you think so?”
Hunter simulated surprise. “Why, here you are back home, safe and sound, nice house to live in, good horses to ride, money to spend, I suppose, and a big ranch that’ll someday be yours to play with. What more do you want?”
“And a lot you know about it,” Wayne returned with a light sneer. “I suppose you think I’m sitting in clover.”
“I should say you’re floundering in a bed of roses,” was Hunter’s rejoinder, and Wayne thought he detected resentment in the older man’s voice. “When I was your age, all I had was a horse, and saddle, and gun … and I had to make ’em good. Oh, yes, on second thought, I had a girl or two. I reckon it must be a girl that’s bothering you. Maybe it’s that Arnold girl. She’s neat enough.”
Wayne kept back the hot reply that was on his lips. “I saw her tonight,” he said, instead.
“I had an idea you were on some such errand when you rode away,” said Hunter dryly. He was playing his cards with a skill that was more than adroit; it was superb.
“Pete Arnold didn’t go to Rainbow. He must have changed his mind soon after he left us. He rode back to the Bar A ranch house and told Polly a thing or two.”
“So?” Hunter showed interest. “Tried to blast your rep because you was ridin’ with me, maybe.”
“Just about.” Wayne nodded. “You just about hit it the way I figured. What he hinted about you was plenty. And in doing that he might as well have included me, I guess. Pete doesn’t hang out any flags when I go over there to visit.”
“What did he say about me?” Hunter asked sharply.
Wayne hesitated, but the look in Hunter’s eyes led him on. “Oh, he merely said you were not the right kind of a man for me to be riding with, he thought, but after what had happened lately … meaning my fight with Jake, I suppose, among other things … he wasn’t sure. A nice crack at me, you see, and I care a lot. And he intimated pretty strongly that you’re sort of married to the green-topped tables and fond of easy money, and hooked up with Darling.” The fact that Hunter’s eyes had narrowed and his lips tightened was not lost on Wayne. “He closed by saying he wouldn’t care to leave the range while you were around close.”
Then, to Wayne’s surprise, Hunter laughed with genuine mirth. “Pete’s getting too fat,” was his comment as he turned back to his paper. “What’s the idea of you sleeping out here when you’ve got a room in the house … to keep an eye on me?”
“I won’t have a room in the house after tonight,” said Wayne sourly.
Hunter put down his paper. Old Ed had carried out his intention so soon? “Why not?” he demanded. He looked about again, to make sure they were alone in the bunkhouse.
“Dad had to get a stepladder to get on his high horse tonight,” said Wayne grimly, “and I guess I jerked the ladder out from under him. He landed with a thump that bounced me out.”
“Disinherited?” asked Hunter, picking up his paper again.
“Dad’s sore because of a few scrapes I’ve been in,” said Wayne. “From the talk between you and him at the table tonight, he was no angel when he was young. But he can’t think back that far when he’s talking to me. Told me to go and run wild. Said maybe you could teach me a few tricks.” He was crafty enough not to look at Hunter as he said this last.
“Well, maybe I could,” said Hunter, rousing in his bunk. “Looks like he was sore at me, too.”
Wayne was inwardly excited. If he could get Hunter angry, the man might take him along with him. He might in the end find out why his father had sent for Hunter. Anyway, pure curiosity stimulated his desire to go with this man.
“I’m getting out tomorrow morning,” Wayne said.
“Where you going?” Hunter asked, frowning.
“To Rainbow … first,” Wayne announced.
“I’m going back that way myself,” Hunter confessed. “If you’re up early enough, you can go along … providing you’re not afraid that your rep will be blasted forever if you ride with me again.”
“I … might as well trail along,” said Wayne, suppressing his exultation with difficulty.
The entrance of the barn hand brought the conversation to an end. Hunter threw away the paper and turned with his face to the wall, satisfied, but doubtful of the outcome of old Ed’s experiment. Ted Wayne crawled into his bunk, jubilant. The barn hand looked curiously at the pair, blew out the light, and went to bed.
They had breakfast in the ranch house very early, before, as Wayne thought, the stockman got up. He did not see his father when he went upstairs for his things. Ted finished first and went out to see about the horses, excusing himself on that pretence. He did want to attend to the horses so they could get an early start, but he also wanted to leave word with the barn hand for Jack McCurdy. “Just tell him I had a little ruckus and I’m going away for a spell,” was the message.
Old Ed was up, although he didn’t particularly want to see Ted. But in the interval, while Ted was gone, he spoke with Jim Hunter. He wanted to know how Ted had taken it.
Hunter instantly detected worry and doubt in the rancher’s eyes, uncertainty in his voice. “Oh, you’re wondering if you hadn’t better back down on the proposition, eh?” said Hunter. “Well, I don’t know as your son would let you. He’s pretty well heated up. Oh, I fixed it all right. We’re riding out pronto.”
“I think it’s for the best,” said Ed Wayne. “You know I’m trusting you, Jim.”
“Now look here,” said Hunter, frowning with irrita
tion. “You’ve hung this job on me and you’ve got to agree to let me go about things in my own way, understand? And if anything misses fire, you’re not to blame me, is that agreed? If it isn’t, I’m layin’ down on you here and now.”
“It’s agreed,” said old Ed. He shook hands with Hunter. Then he watched the pair from an upstairs window until they were mere dots on the plain to eastward that melted into nothing.
It was a glorious morning. The vast plain was a bowl of gold, with emerald rim, and a floating, purple plume that was Rainbow Butte. The horses wanted to run, for it was a morning to quicken the spirits of beasts as well as men. As they were speeding across the Bar A range, they soon became aware that they were not the only riders abroad. From southward came a horse at full gallop, and, even at that distance, Wayne stirred uneasily in his saddle as he thought he recognized the outline of the rider in the saddle. He looked quickly at Hunter, and the older man merely nodded that he had seen. He did not increase their pace. He was splendidly mounted, and Wayne was riding his own horse. They might have avoided meeting this rider had Hunter seen fit to do so. It was not long before Wayne’s suspicion was confirmed. Polly Arnold, lured by the beauty of the dawn, was out for a ride. Perhaps she suspected who Wayne and Hunter were. A frown gathered on Wayne’s brow. It was a meeting he would have wished to avoid. But now it was too late.
“Why, Ted!” the girl sang as she pulled up her horse, compelling them to stop. “Are you riding east again?” She put something else—another question—into her eyes as she looked from him to Hunter.
At the moment Wayne could think of no plausible excuse for his riding out this morning. “Yes,” was his answer. Then he felt a rebellious surge within him. One would think he had to report his goings and comings to this girl before he could do anything. It wasn’t fair to Polly, who had his interests very much at heart, and to whom he was, so far as he knew, engaged, but he didn’t think of it as Hunter gazed quizzically at both of them. He didn’t want to appear foolish before Hunter.
Rainbow Range Page 10
