The Lone Ranger Rides

by Fran Striker

  Chapter XXI

  AN ADMISSION FROM BRYANT CAVENDISH

  A close-range view of Bryant Cavendish fulfilled everything the LoneRanger might have expected from what he had heard about him. His facelooked as if it had been chopped out of a block of granite. His eyes,small, deep-set, were the coldest, hardest eyes that he had ever seen.They were the eyes of a man who would die before he would forgive awrong; a man who had lived with hate. Bryant showed not the slightesttrace of fear. Even in his undershirt he could look haughty andarrogant. He met the steady gaze of the masked man, his mouth clampedhard-shut.

  "Cavendish," began the Lone Ranger in a low but very decisive voice,"I've come a long way to talk to you."

  There was no reply.

  "First of all, what do you know about the murder of some Texas Rangersin Bryant's Gap?"

  There was no change in the older man's expression. His chin lifted justthe slightest bit, but he said nothing. Neither did he nod or shake hishead.

  "There are men working for you who are wanted by the law," continued theLone Ranger. "Six Texas Rangers went through the Gap to arrest men youknow as Sawtell, Rangoon, Lonergan, and Lombard. Those Rangers wereambushed. Did you know that?"

  Cavendish spoke. His voice was scarcely more than a whisper, but theintensity of it, the suppressed emotion that was dripping from hiswords, seemed to make the ends of the masked man's nerves vibrate.

  "You--" he said. "Git!"

  "Not yet, Cavendish; we have a lot of things to talk about." The LoneRanger moved nearer to the flint-faced Bryant and sat down, facing theopen window, with his back against the door.

  "There's a renegade army of bandits across the border. They've beenbuying Cavendish-brand cattle. That in itself has been handled in aperfectly legal manner. The cattle have been sold on this side of theborder. There's another angle to it, however. Ranches surrounding yourbasin land have been struck by thieves. A lot of cattle have been stolenand several men have been murdered. These assaults have been generallyblamed on Ricardo's renegades. But that hasn't been the case. Ricardohas bought your cattle, and the stolen cattle have been herded into yourbasin."

  The Lone Ranger paused. It looked as if Cavendish were about to speak.He trembled a little as he said, "Fer the last time, stranger, _git_."

  "Not yet, Cavendish. I'll tell you some more. The stolen cattle aretaken into the Basin by a trail that comes straight down one side ofThunder Mountain. Once in the Basin, the cattle are treated to a runningiron and the brand changed to one of the many brands that are registeredin your name. 'Circle Bar' stock is changed to the 'Eight Box.' 'Lazy S'becomes the 'Eight-on-One-Side.' I could go on with many other brandsyou've registered; brands that can be made out of the marks on stolencattle. The newly branded stock is held in the Basin until the scarsheal over. Then it is taken out through the mountain trail, while otherstock is brought in. Now you realize that I'm aware of what is goingon."

  Bryant's agitation could never have been caused by fear; therefore itmust have been an anger that was almost consuming him. The Lone Ranger'svoice became sharper as he went on, driving home every pointemphatically. He himself was angry. The stolid manner of Bryant, therefusal to acknowledge that he even heard the masked man's statementscalled for will power that was almost incomprehensible in the face ofthe cold facts.

  "In connection with the cattle-stealing, you've furnished a haven forany outlaws who wanted to hide there. I don't know how you contacted allthose fugitives, but it was managed somehow. They learned that TexasRangers had been sent for, so they ambushed those men. If others gothere, they will either meet the same fate or find a perfectlyinnocent-looking ranch, while the 'wanted' men hide in the mountainretreat. Am I right?"

  Bryant Cavendish spoke again.

  "If you're right, what're you goin' to do about it?"

  "You have a niece, a girl named Penelope."

  Mention of the girl's name brought a quick reaction. Bryant's hard jawshot forward and he snapped, "You leave her out o' this."

  "I'm sorry, but I can't leave her out. It's for her that I'm speaking.She has always trusted you, Cavendish, in spite of everything she saw;the type of men you hired; the trail on Thunder Mountain; in spite ofthe murder of the Texas Rangers, that girl has believed in you. Shewould never have believed you capable of leading a gang to steal thecattle that Ricardo and his men did not dare to steal, and selling themto him at a low enough price so that he could resell at a profit on theother side of the border.

  "You ask what I'm going to do? I'm going to ask you to help put thievesin jail, and send murderers to pay in full. You're an old man,Cavendish. At best you have but a few years left, and after that what isthere for Penelope? Who is going to take care of that girl when you'regone? Would you leave her to the mercies of those cousins of hers, orthe killers like Sawtell and Lombard?

  "I'll lay my cards right out on the table. I can't, at the present time,do anything. That's why I've come to you. There must be somethingthat's turned you from an honest man ... to this. What is it? Tell me,and let me help you straighten things out. Tell me, who has a hold overyou, who's making you do these things?"

  The Lone Ranger drew a folded paper from his pocket and spread it on thetable before Bryant Cavendish. His eyes were fixed on Cavendish, whoseemed to be waging an inward battle for composure. Cavendish glanced atthe paper, then at the Lone Ranger.

  "This," the masked man said, "is a document that Lonergan drew up. Ithas a place for your relations to sign their names. And when they do sothey accept a certain consideration from you, and agree that when yourwill is read they--"

  "I know all about that," snapped Bryant.

  "That's what I was uncertain about. Your signature isn't required onthis, and it would have been a simple matter for Lonergan to havewritten it and had your relatives sign, without your knowledge."

  Cavendish showed more of an inclination to talk.

  "It's legal, ain't it?" he asked as if there were some doubt in hismind.

  "It is legal."

  "That's all I want tuh know."

  "You wanted it prepared?"

  "Sure."

  "But there must be a will, your will, with your signature. That wouldhave to be left to name the people who inherit all your land."

  "There's a will too. All signed an' witnessed."

  Bryant pushed himself to his feet, and stood above the seated maskedman.

  "I never explained nothin'," he barked. "I never asked fer help orfavors, an' I never will. When the time comes that I can't handle myaffairs, I'll be ready tuh lie down an' die. I dunno how yuh got thatpaper, but yer goin' tuh hand it tuh me right now. It's mine an' I'llhave it."

  "You won't explain a thing?" repeated the Lone Ranger.

  "You heard me!"

  The masked man rose and turned to face the other squarely, taking hiseyes away from the window to do so. "I hoped," he said, "that we mightwork together, but you won't have it that way. If you're sure this paperis just the way you want it--" The Lone Ranger broke off when a shotcrashed into the room from a gun beyond the window.

  Bryant Cavendish gasped, then staggered back, clutching with both handsat his broad chest. He stumbled and fell across the bed. The LoneRanger's gun leaped up while the masked man sprang to the window. He sawa man's form running fast. It was too dark in the shadows to determinemuch about the fugitive, but it was obvious that it was he who had firedthe shot at Bryant. The Lone Ranger's gun barked, and a silver bulletflew. The running man spilled forward, rolling from his own momentum.

  There was hammering upon the door. Men's shouts demanded to know whatthe shooting was about. The Lone Ranger holstered his gun. Ignoring theyells and shouts outside the room, he bent over the wounded man. Bryantstill breathed, but his pulse was ragged and his eyes were closed.

  Another instant and those outside would smash the door and force theirway inside. To be found there masked, with Cavendish shot, and onebullet gone from his own gun, would mean the certain capture andprobable lynching of the
Lone Ranger. He had no choice. He lifted BryantCavendish and carried him toward the window.

  The dead weight of the unconscious man was too much for the Lone Ranger,in his fatigued and weakened condition, to handle quickly. He rested hisburden on the window's sill then whistled sharply once.

  The whistle brought renewed shouting from the men beyond the door. Theircries were wild and unorganized. Some cried to the world at large, "Bustin--bust down the door--don't let 'em out--he's in thar, I heard him."These and other cries were mixed with shouts of warning and advice:"Don't yuh try tuh git away--we got yuh trapped--come out an' surrenderor we shoot tuh kill."

  If only the door and the bolt would withstand the assault of the firstfew blows! Silver was coming fast, racing toward the window where themasked man waited. The big stallion clattered close and whinnied shrillywhile the men in the hall yelled new suggestions. "He's got a hossoutside. Git around tuh the winder. I hear a hoss. Thar's a hull gang o'them in thar."

  In a moment Bryant was thrown across the saddle. The masked man leapedbehind him as a shattering blow shivered the door and the wall thatsupported it.

  "Come on, Silver!" the Lone Ranger called.

  He couldn't leave the vicinity just yet. There was one thing of which hemust make certain. He rode to the man he'd shot. Leaping from thesaddle, he found the wounded man quite conscious, but in pain from abullet in the fleshy part of his thigh. "Not serious," he muttered."You'll be all right as soon as--"

  He broke off with a gasp of surprise. This man's bullet wound wasslight, but the man was dying. There was another weapon, a knife of thesort that can be easily thrown. All that showed was the handle, stickingstraight out from the back of the stranger's neck.

  It took but an instant for the Lone Ranger to visualize what hadhappened. This fugitive, having fired point-blank at Bryant Cavendish,had raced on foot to reach a clump of trees. Perhaps his horse waswaiting there, perhaps a trusted friend. This "friend" or someone elsewithin the shelter of the trees had thrown the knife after the LoneRanger's shot had dropped the man, probably to seal his lips with death.

  Whatever the purpose of the murder, the man on the ground would nevertalk. It was little short of miraculous that he had lived at all aftertaking the knife in such a vital place. The Lone Ranger could donothing. The man slipped into unconsciousness, with death a few secondsaway.

  Meanwhile the Lone Ranger was in danger.

  Yelling, shouting men were charging, some on foot and some on horsebackfrom the rear of the hotel. There was no time for thought or planning.The only important thing right now was escape.

  The Lone Ranger leaped, and shouted, "Hi-Yo Silver!"

  The stallion lunged ahead while bullets buzzed too close.

  Leaning low over the strong neck of Silver, the masked man clung toBryant Cavendish. "Now," he thought, "those men will not only think I'veshot Cavendish, but shot and killed that other man as well." He slappedSilver on the neck. "Old boy," he cried, "from now on we've got totravel fast. If they catch us, it will mean a lynching."