Rainbow Range

by Robert J. Horton

  The skies had been muttering faintly, and now, as if to stress the outlaw’s words, there was a distinct peal of thunder.

  “You hear?” said Darling. “That may slow me up.” He stepped to the door and whirled. “If there ever was a time in your life to watch out and not make a false move, it’s now,” he said slowly. His eyes burned into Arnold’s.

  “Take good care of Polly,” said Arnold, his voice coming strong and stern. “You know why I’m payin’ over this money, Darling. It’s to get her back as quick as possible. I’m not afraid of you and I don’t care a rap about the gang of desperadoes that trail with you. After this thing is settled this country will be too hot to hold you. I reckon that will be worth the money, too.”

  Darling laughed insolently in his face. “Brave talk,” he sneered. “How about me? I’m in town with the two biggest outfits on the range here. Some of your men are out front now. That’s how much I think of you making it hot for me! Keep your mouth shut and follow the orders I send you or you’ll need more men than you can get to find your … Polly.” The twisted, vicious smile showed below the narrowed eyes.

  Before Arnold could reply, the outlaw had slipped out the door and was gone. A deafening crash of thunder was the signal of his going.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  The wind lashed the trees in Devil’s Hole. It roared above in a wild frenzy as the lightning flashes multiplied and streaked vivid and blue-white across the inky sky. Ted Wayne assumed it was midnight when he got up from the bunk. The lightning showed him Hunter in his bunk, to all appearances sound asleep. Wayne had made up his mind that to stop him Hunter would have to draw down on him and shoot. He took Hunter’s gun from the holster on the table and spilled the cartridges into the bunk, covering them with the blanket. He replaced the empty gun. It did not strike him until later that it was strange Hunter should leave his gun on the table like that. He let himself silently out the door.

  It was the work of minutes to get his saddle and bridle from the lean-to shed he had noted when entering the rendezvous. It was not so easy to catch up his horse, but in a short time he had done so and had saddled and bridled the animal. He did not attempt to catch Polly Arnold’s horse. Time counted. He tied his horse just below the cabins and hurried back to the cabin occupied by the girl.

  The thunder was rumbling and the wind shrieking down from the shoulders of the butte. Polly answered his raps on the door almost instantly. She handed him his own hat, which he exchanged for the one he wore as they ran from the cabin. A foolish detail he thought as he mounted behind the girl on his horse. “No time to get yours,” he told her and rode down into the trail that led through the trees to the narrow entrance to the Hole.

  A mighty crash of thunder rocked the world as they reached the opening and saw ahead a great soap hole with a ghastly covering of white over its treacherous, sucking sands. Instantly the skies opened and the rain drove into their faces in a solid sheet. All was obliterated save when the lightning brought out the trees, the ragged ridges, and the white sheet of the soap hole in clear relief. The velocity of the wind increased. Branches were torn from trees and hurled into others or sent flying over the tops. The lightning flashes followed each other at such short intervals that they seemed like a winking light in the universe. Thunder crashed with a violence that seemed to shake the very earth.

  Wayne had heard of the terrific storms that centered about the butte. Never had he seen one like this. He got off the horse and helped Polly down, the onslaught of wind and blinding rain taking away their breath.

  “I’ll go ahead,” he shouted in her ear, “and lead the horse! Follow right behind the horse and don’t take a step to one side or the other! We go around the edge of the quicksand, but there’s a place where we have to cross it!” He grasped her hand for a moment, and then started, leading his mount.

  The water ran in streams down their faces and they had to shake their eyes free of it continuously. The lightning now seemed one long, lasting flash. Above, the detonations of the thunder were like a series of mighty explosions. Wayne had no fear of being shot by a lookout in that upheaval of the elements. No man could shoot accurately in the blinding lightning and the stinging rain. He had noted carefully the route by which they had come in and Hunter had been careful to warn him at the more dangerous spots in the narrow trail. He went slowly, feeling his way, making sure that each foot, as he put it forward, was on solid ground before he put his weight upon it. The horse seemed to sense the danger and was led willingly and easily enough. They came to the short stretch of hard trail that led straight across the quicksand. Wayne had taken bearings ahead and behind when he had crossed this with Hunter who had warned him. The lightning showed him the dead, leaning tree ahead that was his mark. He kept his eyes upon it and proceeded step by step, taking a step only when the lightning flashed. The crossing seemed to take hours. Once the horse stepped off the hard trail and lunged ahead to draw its leg out of the grasping morass. Wayne was knocked to his knees and got to his feet in a panic that sent a cold chill up his spine. The next lightning flash showed him the horse and Polly behind. He went forward—two steps—three, four, five—and they were across. Just as they gained the wide, firm ground, the wind tore the dead tree free of its rotten roots and hurled it into the quivering bog.

  Wayne helped Polly into the saddle and climbed up behind her. He held her firmly with his left arm as they moved into the trail that wound around a high ridge and turned south. They were drenched to the skin and the water ran in a steady stream from their riding boots. Not for an instant did the ferocity of the storm slacken. But now they had the wind at their backs most of the time. They did not know that ahead of them Darling was fighting his way back to the rendezvous, cursing the storm, but jubilant, nevertheless, at the ease with which he had brought Pete Arnold to time.

  “Like finding it in the street!” he shouted to the wind. Even in the fury of the storm he found time to plan. Divide the fifty thousand with his men? Never! He would make them think the girl’s capture was a ruse to draw the Bar A and WP outfits off the range, leaving the cattle unprotected. The raids, even then being started, would net them a thousand head. He had seen to it that the outfits would stay in town all next day. It would take them all night to get back to their herds. But would they go back? Darling bowed his head against the driving rain and wind. He believed he knew old Wayne. As soon as the girl was returned, they would start to comb the badlands. It might be three days before they returned to their home range. Thus Darling’s warped imagination betrayed him. And Hunter and Wayne. A deadly thought came into the outlaw’s brain. Why bother with them? Why bother with the cattle? Why not take the money and go—alone. If he had to do it, two shots would rid him of dangerous pursuit. His thoughts were in keeping with the wild ferocity of the raging storm.

  Wayne and Polly Arnold rode on. Wayne had taken note of every intersection on the trail and he followed his course unerringly. The storm reached its highest pitch, lashing the trees and strewing the trail with broken branches and debris so that they had to ride slowly. A thunderbolt crashed and a blazing ball of fire leaped at them. The next instant the world seemed torn apart about their heads. The horse stopped and they sat stunned as a tall tree, its trunk ripped to ribbons, plunged into the trail with a thread of flame running its length. The rain licked up the flame and smoke took its place.

  Wayne looked about and caught sight of an overhanging shelf of rock. He dismounted and led the horse into its shelter. Here Polly slipped from the saddle and Wayne took her in his arms and held her close as the storm raced and roared past them. While they were here, Darling picked his way carefully around the fallen tree and rode on toward the rendezvous, his nefarious plan burning in his brain.

  With the thunderbolt that struck the tree, it appeared that the storm spent its fury. The rain lessened and the wind began to abate. The intervals between the lightning flashes lengthened and the artillery in the skies rolled off into the southeast.

&n
bsp; When Wayne and the girl again gained the trail beyond the point where it was blocked, the stars were breaking out and the rain had ceased. Soon they were on ground that Wayne had traversed more than once. They finally emerged upon the plain south of the butte and turned toward Rainbow.

  “Your dad is in town,” Wayne told Polly. “And mine is there with him. Hunter told me so.”

  The girl didn’t answer. She leaned back against his shoulder, a great weariness upon her. Now that she was safe, the reaction was taking its toll.

  At dawn they rode into Rainbow, and Wayne turned down behind the buildings on the north side of Main Street to the livery. There they dismounted and Wayne helped the girl into the warm kitchen of the hotel. Already preparations for breakfast were under way and soon Polly was reviving under the stimulus of hot, strong coffee. Wayne drank a cup himself, and then shot a question at the clerk who came in for his early breakfast.

  Wayne hurried upstairs and rapped sharply on the door of Pete Arnold’s room. The stockman was up in a minute, calling out in an excited tone. He had the $50,000 in his coat pocket. Was Darling sending the word so soon?

  He opened the door and stepped back with a startled exclamation.

  “I just brought Polly back,” said Wayne crisply. “She’s down in the kitchen, getting dry and taking some coffee. Are any men here?”

  Arnold’s eyes shone. “Your outfit and ours are in town,” he answered. “Is Polly all right? Is she …?”

  “She’s wet and tired, that’s all,” Wayne snapped out. “Go down and see her. I’m taking the Whippoorwill outfit into the Rainbow breaks after Darling. Does your outfit go along?”

  Ed Wayne, whose room was next to Arnold’s, had heard and now he came out into the hall, looking keenly at Ted.

  “Sure,” said Arnold. “Do you know where to go?”

  “I just brought Polly from there,” Wayne answered grimly. He saw his father and now Jim McCurdy came into the hall.

  “McCurdy is here,” said Ed Wayne. “He’ll get the men together.”

  “All right, Mac,” said Ted. “But I’m taking charge. Get the men out. Here’s Payne. Get your crowd together, Payne. It’s Arnold’s orders.” The Bar A owner was nodding vigorously. Ed Wayne was staring at Ted.

  “Did Darling’s gang come into town last night?” Ted asked McCurdy.

  “Not as I know of, and I reckon I’d have heard,” was the answer.

  “Then they’re raiding the cattle while you’re gone!” Ted exclaimed, his mind leaping to a swift and sure conclusion. “Let’s get going. We want Darling, but tell the men not to bother Hunter. And we haven’t got all day!”

  Half an hour later the Bar A and Whippoorwill outfits rode swiftly out of town with Ted Wayne, mounted on a fresh horse, at their head.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  It still was dark when Darling, who knew the trail well, rode into the rendezvous. There was a light burning in the cook shack off the large cabin and he saw a horse, saddled and bridled, which he recognized as Hunter’s. What …? He spurred his horse and rode up to the cook shack at a thundering gallop. He flung himself from the saddle and stood in the doorway. The cook was up and Hunter was there.

  Hunter regarded him coldly.

  “Was you going out?” asked Darling, his words knife-edged.

  “I expected you any minute,” was Hunter’s reply.

  Oh.” There was relief in Darling’s voice and eyes. He beckoned to Hunter to come outside, and, when they were beyond earshot of the cook, Darling spoke hurriedly. “I saw Arnold in town. He gave in without a struggle. I’ve got to take the girl down and turn her over to him and he said he’d have the cash ready. I guess he got it from Henseler. Yes, that’s about the size of it.” He wiped his face with a big bandanna.

  “The girl’s gone,” said Hunter in a flat voice.

  The hand holding the handkerchief came down. Darling stared, jaw sagging, as if he couldn’t believe his ears. “Gone?” he said, looking incredulous. “Gone, you say? Where?” He looked about vacantly.

  “I don’t know,” said Hunter. “Wayne’s gone, too. You said the guards had orders to shoot to kill and I told him that. If he tried to get the girl away, the chances are he’s shot, or else the two of them are in the soap hole. I reckon we better get going and see.”

  “Wayne, too!” Darling’s voice was as hard as flint and sibilant. “You let ’em get away, eh?”

  “Listen to me,” said Hunter sternly. “Did you expect me to sit up all night after you boasting about how well the place was protected and how nobody could get out? Maybe that was meant for me as well as Wayne, for all I know. I went to sleep. The storm woke me up and there was a lump in the bunk I thought was Wayne. I could only get a glimpse when the lightning broke. The storm got rough and I got up and lit the lamp. Then I learned things.”

  Darling’s face was purple with rage. For a wild moment he thought of drawing down on Hunter and dropping him in his tracks. But there was a certain logic in what Hunter had said, and Darling was nervous and not in his best form after the hard ride through the storm.

  “They didn’t pass me,” he fumed. “How’d they get the horses? And all this without waking you up!” His eyes were dark with suspicion and Hunter never for an instant took his gaze from his face.

  “They only took one horse,” he said. “That was Wayne’s. If they didn’t pass you, why …” He paused, puzzled. It would seem but natural that Wayne would make for Rainbow. Hunter had told him his father and Arnold were there, and he had surmised at once that the ranch outfits would follow.

  “Maybe they got off the trail,” said Darling. “I didn’t see a guard or any signs of shootin’ when I rode in. Maybe they got lost. And now that it’s getting daylight, they’ll find the trail again. I’ll catch up a fresh horse and we’ll hit the trail. There’s fifty thousand cold waiting in Rainbow and I’ve got their outfits sewed up there. Arnold listened hard. Tell that cook I’ll want a cup of coffee before we start.”

  He was unsaddling before he finished speaking.

  “Go in and get your coffee,” said Hunter. “I’ll take care of the horse and get you a fresh one.”

  Darling took him at his word and went into the cook shack. Hunter took the saddle off the spent horse, removed the bridle, and turned the animal loose. Then he caught up a fresh horse and saddled it. It was Polly Arnold’s mount.

  Darling came out shortly and swung into the saddle without a word. He led the way down the trail until they came to where the trees opened at the edge of the soap hole. The cold light of dawn was spreading from the east. Darling whistled, sending the peculiar signal splitting through the still air.

  A man appeared from the trees on the right. “All right!” he called, hurrying toward them.

  “What’s all right?” Darling blurted. “Where’s Bill?”

  “That’s what I’m wonderin’,” was the answer. “Haven’t seen him since before the storm. Maybe …”

  “Have you seen anybody else tonight?” Darling demanded savagely.

  “Only you when you rode in,” came the sullen reply.

  “Where were you during the storm?” Darling asked smoothly.

  “I was back in the timber a ways. It was a terror, wasn’t it? Why, is something wrong?”

  Darling swore horribly. “Yes, there’s something wrong!” he shouted. “You’re wrong, see, you … you …!” His hand flashed at his hip and his gun cracked sharply. The lookout flung up a hand and toppled over backward.

  Hunter’s eyes were narrowed to slits when Darling looked quickly at him, his lower lip drawn back against his teeth.

  “You’ll ride ahead,” said Hunter sharply, and Darling started as he saw that Hunter had drawn his gun in a flash.

  “He had it coming … the rat,” said Darling as he sheathed his weapon. Then he started on in the lead.

  When they had crossed the treacherous bit of trail across the quicksand, Darling reined in suddenly, pointing to the hard ground. “Look at tha
t sign!” he ejaculated.

  Hunter leaned from the saddle and saw the imprints of a horse’s hoofs that the rain had failed to wash entirely away. “They got across,” he decided.

  “And they got lost!” thundered Darling. “Now they’re looking for the trail, that’s about the size of it. Come on!”

  He led the way at a swift pace, continually leaning from the saddle to scan the trail. “Still on the trail here!” he called back several times when the tracks left by Wayne’s horse showed in favorable spots on the trail.

  The sun was up when they came to the tree blocking the trail. They circled it through the timber and had been on the trail but a short time when Darling’s lips streamed curses. “Still on it!” he called back to Hunter with a horrible oath. His rage began to center on the man riding behind him. If Wayne hadn’t lost his way, he had made town long before this. And he had gotten away from Hunter! And Hunter had commanded Darling to ride ahead! He was suspicious, then. Suspicion in any form, in so far as it concerned himself, was something Darling never had countenanced in his band. He had been a fool to tell Hunter to bring Wayne to the rendezvous if he killed Barry. He had made the biggest mistake of his doubtful career. Why had he done it? Sheer bravado? Curiosity? Did he think he could get Wayne mixed up with his crowd just because Wayne had had trouble with his father? He had had an idea that by getting Wayne involved with the band, it would help him in his rustling. But he hadn’t then known Polly Arnold was in town or received the inspiration that led to her abduction. He cursed freely as they rode down the trail.

  When they reached the lower stretch, which, as Darling well knew, Wayne had covered before, the outlaw gave up hope of overtaking the fugitives before they made town.

  He slowed his pace and called back to Hunter. “We’ll take a look in the open, but I guess he made it!” Then he drove in his spurs and they raced down the trail at breakneck speed. Darling knew he was not riding one of his own horses. He knew of none of his men who possessed as good a mount as the one he was on. Then he suspected the truth. He was riding the girl’s horse. It was another mark against Hunter, although he had to admit that Hunter had picked the best horse available for him. But if he was seen on it, Arnold would swear he had stolen it. His brain was aflame. The world was whirling red. He raked the horse with the spurs again and dashed down the little valley that was the entrance to the badlands. At the lower end, his caution thrown to the wide winds, he plunged through the creek, still sinking the steel in the horse’s flanks. As the tortured animal lunged up the bank and burst through the trees, it stumbled, throwing its rider over his head.