by Fran Striker
Chapter XXII
STALEMATE
The shooting's aftermath in Red Oak: Some insisted that a posse beformed at once to scour the country for the unknown rider who had takenBryant Cavendish with him. Others were in favor of letting the law,represented by Slim Peasley, take its fumbling course, while themajority asked resentfully what the hell the disturbance was all about,then turned back to drinks, games, women, or combinations of the same.Wallie Cavendish was much in evidence, for once in his life lookinghot-faced and somewhat disheveled. He insisted that prompt action betaken; that something be done about his uncle's abduction.
"A hell of a lot you care about him," snapped Jim Bates, the hotelowner. "Now he's gone, yuh know damn well yer ready tuh let out a warwhoop of plain an' fancy cheerin'."
Wallie ignored the comment and spoke to the group assembled in thelobby.
"It's high time there was some law around this place. First Mort getsout of jail, without half-tryin', then Uncle Bryant's carried away,likely dead, an' all we got is that buzzard-bait Peasley. That man onthe white horse was leaning over someone when he was seen, wasn't he?"
Someone in the crowd said, "Yeah."
"Well, what about him? Is anything bein' done?"
"He's bein' brought in here. Some of the boys went tuh see about him."
"High time," barked Wallie with a fire that was unusual.
"The boys that had horses handy went after that critter," explained JimBates. "Maybe they'll catch him."
"And if they do," said Wallie, "they'll jail him the same as they didMort, an' ten minutes after Slim's back's turned, he'll be scot-freeagain."
"I thought you had a hunch," said Jim Bates, "that it was yer UncleBryant that let Mort out of the calaboose."
"That's what I thought."
"Mebbe this _hombre_ that rid away won't have no Uncle Bryant tuh lethim loose."
The door opened, and men came in carrying a still form which they placedon the plank floor near the wall.
"He's dead," one of them said, looking at Wallie with a strangeexpression.
"Is it anyone we know?" asked Bates.
One of the newcomers nodded seriously. "Yup, it shore is." He stoodaside. One leg showed the red result of a bullet wound, but this washardly more than a scratch. In the back of his neck the handle of aknife still showed. The man was Mort Cavendish.
"My brother!" exclaimed Wallie. "It's Mort." He wheeled to the silentmen around him. "Who done this?" he asked. "Who'd want to kill poorMort? He never hurt no one in his life. He--"
Jim Bates stepped up. "Listen tuh me," he said sharply. "We don't wantnone of yer crocodile actin' around here. In the first place, whoeverstuck that knife in Mort's neck saved him bein' strung up tuh hang ferkillin' his wife. You know that damned well. In the second place, yuhnever gave a damn about any of yer family, an' yuh still don't. WithMort done fer, it's jest one less tuh whack up Bryant's Basin."
Wallie stood a moment, then he said in a calmer voice, "All right,Bates, Bryant's gone an' Mort's killed. Now let's figure out who doneit."
"What the hell d'you care?" Wallie was obviously not well liked by themen in Red Oak. Their manner showed that they cared nothing abouthelping him. The man who died had deserved killing, and no sympathy waswasted. If the murderer had walked in at that moment, it was quitelikely that he would have been told that his duty was to handle theburial expenses as a moral obligation, then take drinks on the house.
"Only thing I don't like," muttered someone, "is this knifin' business.It ain't good form no-ways. Why the hell, when that critter dropped Mortwith the shot in the leg, didn't he finish him with another slug,'stead o' stickin' him like this?"
"You can't leave him there," said Jim Bates. "What d'ya want done withthe remains?"
Wallie dug into his pocket and dumped what cash he had on the hoteldesk. "You handle things," he told Bates. "Have the coroner do whateverhas to be done, then hire someone with a cart to haul him to the Basin.I'll have him buried there."
Bates nodded, scooping up the cash. "I'll tend tuh things. Whatever Morthad in his pockets was took out by Peasley when he jailed him. I reckonyou c'n get his cash an' whatever else he had from Slim."
"I will."
"Hold on," said Bates. "Old Bryant has a buckboard an' team in the shed.He brought 'em when he came. Why don't you take Mort back in that yerown self?"
Wallie explained that he was leaving shortly and would drive the teamand ride the buckboard, with his own horse hitched behind. He had tohurry though, and didn't care to wait until the coroner's work wasfinished. In fact, he planned to start back for the Basin right away. Hewanted to be there by daybreak.
"All right, then," said Bates. "I'll see that everything's tended to."
Further conversation and conjecture was carried to the nearest saloon.The general opinion seemed to be that Bryant had helped his nephew outof jail. Then someone unknown had called upon Bryant. Mort had found himthere, when trying to sneak into the room. The unknown man had fired,but Mort had run away. The gunman had fired again, and this time he hitBryant. Blood on the bed proved that Bryant had been hit. Then pursuitof Mort, who ran despite the wounded leg, led to his final death bystabbing. The eyewitnesses from the hotel room had first seen thestranger with the white horse standing close to Mort. That was justbefore he had ridden away. This explanation suited everyone, and furtheraction was dependent on Slim Peasley. Which meant that there probablywould be no further investigation.
Wallie went from place to place, locating the men from the Basin,telling them what had happened and suggesting that they start at oncefor home. He was the last to leave Red Oak. By the time he had driventhe buckboard through the rough, rocky bottom of the Gap, the cowhandshad been home for some time. When he drove in at daybreak, he found themstill awake and excited over the discovery of old Gimlet.
They hadn't found Sawtell, Rangoon, Lombard, or Lonergan in thebunkhouse.
"Dunno where the hell them boys went," they said. "They don't dare riskgoin' tuh Red Oak, because yuh never can tell when the sheriff'll bethere, or maybe a Ranger, or some gent that'd recognize 'em an' turn 'emin fer the reward."
Wallie was tired and annoyed at the missing quartet. He ordered freshhorses hitched to the buckboard, gave instructions for the disposal ofold Gimlet's body, then went to the house. Throwing open the door, hestopped abruptly.
A strange sight greeted him. One lamp was lighted. Though the wick wasturned low, there was sufficient illumination to reveal disorder in theroom. On top of a table, a chair; on the chair a log, braced against thebeamed ceiling. Sitting near the fireplace, Wallie saw an Indian.
Furiously angry, he started forward, then halted again. The Indian waswide-awake, holding a heavy revolver in his hand.
"What the--?" started Wallie.
"You," muttered the Indian, "close door. Sit down. We wait."
"Wait for what? Who are yuh, and what're yuh doin' here? What's all thismean?"
"Girl wake pretty quick," the Indian replied. "She tell you."
A howl from beneath his feet made Wallie jump. Tonto grinned at hissurprise. "Bad feller," he explained, "down there. Girl tell you, whenshe wake."
"I'm awake."
It was Penelope, wrapped in a bathrobe, coming down the stairs.
* * * * *
Daybreak found the Lone Ranger once more in the saddle. He rode slowlyat first, but as the light increased and made the trail he followed moredistinct, he increased his speed. With several hours' rest the maskedman felt much better. Tonto, he was sure, could handle things at theranch house until Wallie returned. The Indian's position there would beexplained by Penny. Bryant Cavendish had been left in the cave. Now theLone Ranger rode in pursuit of Yuma.
Wallie with the wagon, and all the horsemen going to the Basin, hadpassed close to the cave in Bryant's Gap while the masked man and BryantCavendish were there. The hoofs of these men's horses had in many casesblotted out the tracks of Yuma, but an occasional ma
rk where the shalewas soft assured the masked man that he was still on the trail of theone he sought.
There were times when he had to dismount and examine the ground closelyto make sure he hadn't gone astray.
Then he found that Yuma had left the Gap. New scratches on the rocks ofone side of it showed where his horse had fought its way up an almostsheer ascent to gain the level land above. The Lone Ranger guided Silverup the same path. Now the ground, covered in most places by a sort ofturf, was softened by the recent rains and held distinct hoofprints ofthe big cowpuncher's horse.
"Come on, Silver," the Lone Ranger called as he saw the trail stretchingout toward the horizon. The stallion fairly flew over the ground thatfelt so soft after the sharp and sliding stones of the Gap.
The marks of Yuma's horse were spaced to show that it too had traveledat top speed. But Yuma had ridden in the darkness, which was probablythe reason that his horse had fallen. The Lone Ranger saw the gopherhole into which the horse had stepped, and near by, the body of thehorse itself. He dismounted and examined the ground.
Marks clearly showed that Yuma had spilled over the head of the fallinghorse. The dead horse was a few yards distant. The foreleg, to judgefrom its position, unquestionably was broken. A bullet through the headhad ended the beast's suffering. Yuma had taken the most essentialthings from his duffle and left the rest. His footprints led on in thesame direction he'd been going.
The masked man mounted and rode on. It wasn't long before he saw a pileof rocks. They were huge boulders, tossed into the middle of an openplain, as if left and forgotten by the Builder in some era eons ago whenthe world was made. The footprints led directly toward these rocks.
"That," mused the Lone Ranger, "is where the man I want has takenrefuge. I wonder if he'll shoot. I doubt it." He rode ahead, consideringthe type of man he had to face. What he had seen of Yuma had left arather favorable impression. When the cowboy had claimed leadership ofthe cattle-stealing organization, the Lone Ranger had doubted the truthof what he said. It had seemed obvious that Yuma sought to shield BryantCavendish, in order that the old man might remain alive and free tosafeguard Penny.
The masked man slowed Silver to a walk, and drew his gun. He advancedslowly, without taking his eyes off the rocks. Presently the cowboy'shead popped out, then a quick shot struck the ground a little to oneside of the Lone Ranger. He rode on slowly. A hundred yards away fromthe natural fortress, the masked man dismounted, then went forward onfoot.
"I'm coming to get you, Yuma," he shouted.
"I won't be taken alive," came the reply. "Git aboard that hoss an'vamoose. I don't want tuh drill yuh."
The Lone Ranger walked ahead. Another shot, this time one that whistledas it passed. The space had narrowed down to fifty yards when Yuma criedagain.
"Stand back, I tell yuh, stranger. I don't want tuh kill yuh. Yuh can'ttake me alive. Them shots was only warnin's. Now go back."
The masked man made no reply. Nor did he change his pace or course. Longstrides carried him ahead. He held one gun in readiness, but didn'treturn the shots that had been fired toward him. Thirty yards away.
"In the name of God," shouted Yuma, "you're goin' tuh make me kill yuh.This is yer last chance. Now turn back!"
The Lone Ranger took five more strides forward; then Yuma fired again.This time the bullet tugged at the sleeve of his shirt. Yuma was eithershooting to kill and missing, or shooting with rare skill to come asclose as he could without inflicting injury. While he walked forward,the Lone Ranger called again, "You know you're not going to kill me,Yuma, because if you do there'll be others here to take my place. I'mcoming to ram your lies down your throat!"
His heavy gun was still unfired. Ten paces from the rock he halted.
"I can put a bullet through you, Yuma, the next time you look out frombehind that rock to fire at me. I don't want to do it. I don't even wantto shoot your gun away, because I may need your help. I don't want yourgun hand wounded. Now come out!"
Yuma's voice came from behind the rocks. "Next time I fire," he shouted,"I'll shoot tuh kill. Heaven help me, stranger, I don't want tuh dothat, but I swear I'll have tuh. It's you or me, an' it's not goin' tuhbe me."
"I'm waiting for you," the Lone Ranger replied.
"If yuh don't turn back when I count three, I'll fire."
Yuma started counting slowly. "One ... two ..." And then a pause. "Ferthe love of Heaven, turn back."
"I'm still waiting, Yuma."
"God knows, yuh asked fer it." Yuma shouted, "Three!" and then leapedout from behind the rock and fired.
