Rainbow Range

by Robert J. Horton

  “Not exactly,” Wayne returned, cooling down. “You’ve never lied to me, Mac. But I’m thinking maybe you’re keeping something from me. Somebody went out there with the message, and somebody sent that messenger. I’m entitled to know about it.”

  “Well, you can’t find out anything more from me than that a man rode into the north camp at sunup and told me. That was all I needed to know. We were on our way pronto.”

  “Does Dad know about it?” Wayne inquired casually.

  “I don’t know that, either. Maybe he sent the man up for all I know. I’m not interested. We’re here to see that you get a square deal. We’d be fine friends if we didn’t back you up at a time like this. I reckon you know you’re in a town that’s as hostile as a rattlesnake.”

  “Yes, I know that.” Wayne nodded thoughtfully. Who could have sent the messenger? One of three men: Henseler, Green, or Hunter. He eliminated Henseler at once. He had his doubts as to Green. But Hunter—by the guns, it must have been Hunter!

  “How’d you come to run into Barry again?” asked McCurdy.

  “He ran into me,” Wayne answered shortly.

  McCurdy scowled. “This thing supposed to come off tonight?”

  “No need to suppose anything. Unless Jake beats it, it will come off.”

  “Where?” McCurdy demanded.

  Wayne laughed queerly. “I don’t know. You see there are a lot of people interested in this business, it seems. That is, interested in arranging it for me. Now you come in with a crowd from the ranch and they’ll say I sent for help. Makes it look sweet for me.” His eyes narrowed. “Just remember, Mac, I don’t want the boys getting into any fights on my account.”

  “Don’t worry about the boys,” McCurdy snapped. “They can look after themselves and I’m here to give the orders. You needn’t try to lord it over me, either. I’ve been in a few shooting scrapes and this is your first. You don’t have to have a lot of people arranging things for you. When the time arrives, just come along with us and he’ll have to come out in the open.”

  Wayne smiled. McCurdy didn’t know about Boyd. He shook his head. “There’s one thing I won’t stand for and that’s a bodyguard. Great snakes!”—he waved his arms in disgusted resignation—“you’d think this was a rodeo exhibition or something.” Then he laughed.

  “Darling’s in town,” McCurdy announced casually.

  Wayne started. “Yeah? In for the show, expecting me to get mine, I suppose,” he said sarcastically.

  “I don’t know what he’s expectin’, but he’s here. And that means he’s brought a bunch with him. And don’t forget, my young buckaroo, that Barry travels with that outfit.”

  “Meaning that, if Barry doesn’t get me, one of Darling’s men will, I suppose,” Wayne mocked.

  “Stranger things than that have happened and don’t you forget it.” McCurdy nodded. “Come and take look out this window.”

  He led Wayne into the next room and drew aside the curtains of a front window. Wayne swore softly as he saw half a dozen WP men lounging outside.

  “There’s a couple more out back,” said McCurdy. “And the rest are circulating around, keeping their ears open where the listening is good. Don’t start to holler, for it won’t do you any good, Ted. We’re not here to fight your battle, but we propose to see that you get a square deal. If we have to pack you back across a horse, it won’t be because you were potted from the sidelines. You know I … the outfit thinks a lot of you, Ted. You’ve run with us ever since you could straddle a horse. It seems to us that we’ve a right to be here.”

  McCurdy’s tone, as well as his words, made an impression on Wayne. He held out his hand. “Don’t get me wrong, Mac. You can’t blame me for being a bit upset. Only, don’t make the lookout too … too conspicuous. I’ve always wanted a chance to use that word. It’s one of my few big ones.”

  His smile brought a grin from his friend. “Now you’re beginning to act normal,” said the latter. He looked Wayne over with a critical eye. “You’re steady enough,” he decided. “When the time comes, don’t wait a fraction of a split second. And they say this Barry packs two guns.” He frowned.

  “And I’ve heard that one’s a dummy.” Wayne grinned.

  There was a knock on the door and they went back into the dining room as Mrs. Trippett came to answer it. A moment after she had admitted someone, she came in to them.

  “There’s a man to see Mister McCurdy,” she announced.

  McCurdy went in, and, when Wayne looked through the doorway, he saw the WP foreman talking in an undertone with a man near the window. A short space later, McCurdy let the man out. When he turned, he was frowning deeply.

  “Well, I reckon it’s my turn to feel peeved,” he said. “I suppose you will, too. Now who do you think’s in town?”

  “Dad, I suppose,” replied Wayne dryly.

  “Worse than that,” growled McCurdy. “Polly Arnold just rode in and is over at the hotel. Saw one of our men at the livery and said she wanted to see you, and, if you didn’t come to see her, she’d start out to look you up.”

  For several seconds the two men stared at each other.

  “Well, of all the …” Wayne dropped into a chair and laughed heartily, to the other’s astonishment. When he could manage to talk, he said: “Mac, all we need is a band!” And his laugh rang out again.

  “I don’t see anything so funny about it,” grumbled McCurdy.

  “That, Mac, is because you haven’t got a sense of humor.” Wayne chuckled. “I expect a messenger any minute now to say that the Old Man and Pete Arnold just arrived in a buckboard with the horses’ tails braided and tied with red, white, and blue ribbons.”

  “This is no place and time for a girl,” McCurdy snapped. “And that young firebrand … jumping coyotes! There’s no telling what she might do. The thing is what’ll we do?”

  “No.” Wayne smiled. “The thing is what’ll I do. Well, you bet I’m not going to have her chasing around town looking for me … not in this town. I’m going over to see her. I’ve got time.”

  McCurdy scowled darkly, and then he slammed his big hat on the table and swore. It was cow-country profanity of the highest order, with no irreverence intended. But it was the only way in which the cow boss felt he could thoroughly express his feelings. “What in the devil is she doin’ here?” he demanded finally.

  “Why, didn’t you hear?” Wayne sat up in his chair in mock astonishment. “She came to see me.”

  This was too much and the big foreman flew off into another profane burst of exasperation.

  “She probably wants to see me at least once again before … you know,” Wayne taunted with a grin. “It was just what I needed, Mac, old hoss thief. This thing is getting so serious it was threatening to get on my nerves.” He rose and drew aside the curtain. “Sun is still up,” he said cheerfully. “I’m going over.”

  “I’ll go along,” said McCurdy.

  “I wish you wouldn’t, Mac,” said Wayne earnestly. “I wish you boys would keep in the background. I know why you boys are here, and, after what you told me, it’s all right with me. But, for my sake, don’t make it look like I sent for you.”

  “Well,” said McCurdy, scratching his head, “all right. Go ahead.”

  As he started out, Hunter came in the door. Wayne stopped short, his cheerful mood vanishing. “Hunter, I want to ask you a straight question. Did you send word to the ranch?”

  “If you want to know who went to the ranch, it was Fred Hastings, the liveryman,” said Hunter crisply. “He used to know your outfit.” With that he pushed past Wayne, nodded at McCurdy, and went into the kitchen.

  Wayne looked at McCurdy and smiled. “Another friend,” he said, “another town friend, I mean. Used to know Dad so he took it on himself to slope for the ranch with the news. And Dad sent a man up to tell you. That’s how you got your information.”

  “That may all be,” said McCurdy, “but he didn’t send any instructions. Or, if he did, I didn’t wait t
o hear ’em. I did this on my own, and if the Old Man fires me, that’s all right, too. If you’re goin’ to keep both your appointments, you better get moving.”

  “There’s just one thing,” said Wayne thoughtfully. “I wonder how Polly found out about it. Hastings wouldn’t be stopping at the Bar A before daylight to tell them.”

  “She probably saw us riding in and took a chance that something big was up,” growled McCurdy. “She’s everywhere on the range, and can hear things a mile away. We’ll take her back with us tomorrow. But, go ahead. Get this fool girl business over with as quick as you can … and don’t let it affect your gun hand.”

  Wayne’s laugh broke again. His cheerfulness returned. McCurdy had heard him laugh when going into a battle with his fists, but this was a different brand of hilarity. He looked at Wayne sharply as they went out the front door. Then he made a signal behind his back.

  Wayne paid not the slightest attention to the cowpunchers loitering about. He walked swiftly up the alley to the street, keeping an alert lookout. He saw a WP cowpuncher at the street intersection. Then he crossed the street and hurried to the hotel. There were two WP men in the lobby. He stepped to the desk and asked a question.

  “In the ladies’ parlor, upstairs, in the front,” was the respectful answer.

  Polly Arnold was sitting by the window in the little room with its few stuffed chairs and center table. It had been a wild impulse that had caused her to ride to Rainbow. All her life she had been a slave to wild impulses, it seemed. It had not altogether been a wild impulse that had prompted her to tell Ted Wayne she would marry him. This thought, in company with many others, bothered her. Just how much did she think of Ted Wayne? Enough to ride to Rainbow in foolhardy fashion! Now that she was in the town, she doubted the wisdom of her move. There was no sense in it. She was a fool! The realization angered her. What would her father think? How could she explain? Just because she had seen Wayne riding east with that outlaw, Hunter, and then had spied the WP men riding in, she had suspected—what? Ted could take care of himself without her. She had no reason to expect … Suddenly she became angry and struck her riding boot with her crop. There were steps on the stairs in the hall. She turned quickly as Wayne breezed into the room and closed the door.

  “Come here, Polly!”

  He held out his arms. Polly was a beautiful thing to look at. Now that he was exiled from home, nothing in the world seemed so desirable as this girl. But he had to play fair …

  “Not until you tell me what you’re doing here,” said Polly, rising.

  Wayne tossed his hat on the table and stepped close to her. “Let’s make a trade,” he bantered. “You tell me what you’re doing here first.”

  Polly bit her lip and flushed. In that moment Wayne took her quickly in his arms and kissed her. She broke away with flashing eyes and half raised her riding crop. “You’re taking a liberty,” she said with trembling lips.

  “I thought … well … I didn’t mean to do that,” he stammered.

  For a space there was silence between them. Polly was angry and Wayne was nonplussed. In the moment of that embrace and kiss something seemed to come between them. It puzzled him, and the girl was uncertain of herself. But she was the first to recover.

  “Ted, I risked a lot to come over here,” she said in a slow, earnest voice. “I saw you riding over this way with that terrible man, Hunter. I saw some of your ’punchers riding over here. I just couldn’t seem to stand it, and like a fool I came here to find out what you were doing. I thought, if you wouldn’t listen to anybody else, you might listen to me.”

  “I’ve always been ready to listen to you, Polly,” he said soberly.

  “Then why are you here, and why don’t you go home? Something is wrong, Ted, or the WP men wouldn’t be here. What is it?”

  So she doesn’t know, thought Wayne. She had come on a chance. And she had risked a lot. But what was he to do about it? Only one thing—McCurdy would have to look after her, invent a plausible lie to tell her father, and take her back home with the outfit.

  “You shouldn’t have come here, Polly. Were you over to the ranch?”

  “No. But I should have gone.”

  “Father and I had a break,” he confessed. “I suppose you suspected it was coming. It was over that last trouble in town. So, you see, I can’t very well go back.”

  She stared at him with frightened eyes. “But … there must be some way.” She paused as he shook his head.

  “Not at present, Polly … perhaps never. That’s why I’ve got to hold myself in check and play fair with you. I don’t want you to risk any more for me, Polly. McCurdy will look after you and take you home when the outfit goes in the morning. Leave it to him to make up a story that’ll hold water. You …”

  “But I’ve got to go back tonight,” the girl interrupted. “They’ll be looking for me. They may even ride over here from the ranch. I thought, if I found you, that you would take me back.”

  “That would make it all the worse,” he pointed out. “Don’t you see?”

  She flushed, and then her face paled. “Oh, I’m a fool!” she exclaimed, stamping her foot angrily. “You won’t tell me anything, so I know you’re wrong. You don’t care enough about me to …” She tossed her head. “Ted Wayne, you’ve gone bad! Father always said you would, and he was right. I’ll tell him so!”

  “Your father is a smart man in a good many ways,” said Wayne grimly.

  “He’s smart enough in that way,” she retorted scornfully. “I’m taking back what I said that day in town. Pity for you went to my head.”

  He winced at this. “That’s your privilege, Polly.”

  There was a soft rapping upon the door. Wayne started and glanced quickly out the window. The sun had set. He stepped quickly to the door and opened it. Hunter was there, beckoning to him.

  Polly glimpsed him and sprang forward with her riding crop upraised, fury in her eyes. “It’s your fault, you beast!” The crop was snatched from her hand and she was pushed back as Hunter pulled Wayne through the door, closed it, and, to Wayne’s surprise, turned a key on the outside.

  “You don’t want to be late?” Hunter asked in a low, even voice.

  Wayne didn’t answer. He led the way along the hall and down the stairs, his face deathly white.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The western sky was afire and all over the land spread that brilliant glow that signals the setting of the sun. A freshening breeze stirred the dust in the street and set the leaves of the cottonwoods aflutter, their undersides dancing like silver spangles. Pink and blue and purple veils drifted about Rainbow Butte, and its crest wore a golden crown. The air was soft with the faint aroma of warm earth.

  Rainbow swarmed upon the street. It was well-known that Jake Barry had not left town. He had taken pains to be plainly in evidence during the late afternoon. The arrival of the WP cowpunchers had created a sensation and he had sneered and jeered, and openly accused Wayne of sending for help. This rumor, however, had been spiked by Hunter and Green and their friends. It was generally conceded that Wayne was entirely on his own.

  That the prospective meeting of Wayne and Barry should attract more interest than any similar affair in the history of the town was but natural. There had been many clashes between professional gunmen, most of them impromptu, but this meeting was different in that it involved the scion of the largest rancher in the north range. Moreover, Barry was out for revenge. He had lost an immense amount of prestige because of his defeat in the fight with Wayne. Always a bully, he had few friends in town outside of his own coterie of followers, who were also disliked. There was an underlying sentiment against him. Another factor was his connection with the Darling gang, which was well-known, but not mentioned aloud. And Darling, himself, was in town.

  Thus a moving element of drama entered into the expected gun duel between Wayne and Barry. Suspense was in the air. Most of those in Rainbow were acquainted with Barry’s prowess with his weapons—he always dre
w both guns, but few knew the left gun was never fired first. Wayne’s ability was a matter for conjecture and wild rumor. The majority felt sorry for him. And with a bunch of WP men in town, what would happen if he were killed?

  That there would be scant opportunity for an indoor meeting became apparent before sunset. The crowds surged out upon the main street and congregated where it joined the short street that led to the road that turned off southward, away from the butte. This was the one principal corner and it was here that The Three Colors resort was located. The big resort was right at the head of Main Street. It might be said that its front doors looked down upon the town.

  It was in the vicinity of The Three Colors that the crowd was densest. When the flaming crimson banners over the western peaks blazoned the sunset, the upper end of Main Street was lined on both sides. And it was a restless crowd, ready on instant’s notice to part and scramble out of the line of fire. There was little talk, but an electrical wave of expectation pulsed through the throng.

  The WP men were divided on both sides of the street. The supporters of Barry were equally divided but greater in numbers. The latter were given to growls and sneering remarks, and called to each other in open derision of the men from the Whippoorwill and Wayne. But McCurdy’s orders had been strict and the Barry crowd got little satisfaction out of their word play.

  It was a setting for a stage, rather than a small town street.

  When Hunter and Wayne were nearly down the stairs at the hotel, Hunter touched Wayne on the arm. The latter looked up and Hunter motioned around the foot of the stairway toward the rear. Wayne nodded, and, after a few remaining steps, they turned abruptly and walked along the narrow hallway to a rear door.

  Hunter paused with his hand on the knob. “Your gun in good shape?” he asked.

  “I’ve seen to that,” Wayne snapped. He wasn’t thinking of his gun, or even of the impending meeting with Barry, but of Polly Arnold and the look he had last seen in her eyes. Every vestige of cheerfulness had left his face, voice, and manner. Within, he felt a burning resentment, a growing anger toward Hunter and the others—even toward Polly herself.