The Lone Ranger Rides

by Fran Striker

  Chapter XXVII

  GUNS TALK BACK

  The murder-bent quintet went up the stairs like Indians stalking singlefile through wooded land. Each man carried his gun in his left hand andbraced himself with his right against the wall. They stayed as close tothat wall as possible to minimize the creaking of the stairs. The onlysound was a faint, leathery whisper from the dusty boots. Wallie cursedinwardly at his lack of foresight in not having his men gostocking-footed to the double murder.

  Wallie was in the lead, Vince in the rear. In this order they gained theupstairs hall. Any apprehensions Wallie might have had about thesqueaking boots were dispelled as he drew close to Bryant's door. Aresonant voice, undoubtedly that of the masked man, was speaking.Wallie felt no qualms of guilt or conscience at the cold-bloodedruthlessness of his plans. He hadn't the slightest intention of givingthe men who were marked for execution a chance to defend themselves. Thecode of Western fair play was missing from Wallie's personality. Thiswas to be no duel, but simply the extinction of two men whose deaths hadbecome essential to his plans.

  Wallie halted at the closed but unlocked door and motioned Lonergan andLombard past him. As the leader faced the door those two were on hisleft, while Vince and Sawtell, guns now shifted to their right hands,stood upon his right. All but Wallie were balanced on the balls of theirfeet, tense and ready to charge through the door, but Wallie hesitated.He could hear the masked man's voice, with a vibrant quality carryingthrough the door. He could hear, distinctly, each word that was said.The masked man was scolding old Bryant Cavendish.

  Wallie crouched and placed one eye close to the keyhole. The room, hesaw, was dimly lighted. It was difficult to see details. The blanketswere mounded on the bed as if they'd been pulled over Bryant's big body.On the far side of the bed Wallie could make out a white sombrero, andjudged that to be where the masked man sat while he conducted theone-sided conversation.

  Wallie now knew just where he should direct his men to fire when hethrew open the door. He hesitated, listening to what was being saidinside.

  "You're the most unreasonably stubborn old fool I've ever known,Cavendish." It was the masked man speaking. "It's high time for you todrop this false pride of yours; admit you've grown old, let someonehelp you.

  "Cavendish, all these murders are yours. I know you aren't the killer,personally, but none of them could possibly have happened if you hadn'tbeen so foolishly stubborn! You'd never admit that you found it hard towalk. You thought you hid that fact, but you didn't! You didn't foolanyone at all. Then when your eyes began to fail you, you tried to hidethat fact too. Why, right now, you're so nearly blind that you have to_feel_ your way."

  Wallie heard a low-toned response from his uncle. Then the masked mancontinued.

  "All of those nephews of yours realized that you not only were incapableof getting about, but that you couldn't even see what went on. They feltsecure in doing whatever they pleased, so they organized a regular crimering here in the Basin. They replaced all of your former hands withcrooks whom they selected. They let it be known in the right places thatthis Basin would be a safe hideout for men the law was looking for. Youcouldn't see what your cowhands looked like, so you had no cause todistrust them. You wouldn't go to a doctor and have your eyes treatedand your sight improved, because you wanted to conceal your condition."

  Wallie reasoned that inasmuch as neither of the two beyond the door wasto survive much longer, he might as well hear what else thisincalculable masked man knew.

  "Penelope tried her best to find reasons for your unconcern over theways things were going here. She thought more of you than you deserved.She tried to convince herself that you were not aware of things, andtried to find out if blindness was the reason. She defended you whenYuma turned against you; and what was her reward for that loyalty? Youturned against her, the same as you did against those graceless cousins.She was made to sign away her rights just as they were. Don't interrupt,Cavendish--I've more to say. Yuma felt that as long as you were alive,that girl would be guarded and protected. How wrong he was! But that waswhat he thought, and when I captured him he tried to convince me that hewas the leader of these Basin killers. He was ready to spend the rest ofhis life as a fugitive in hiding, and keep the law off your neck. When Ishowed him the document that Penelope had been made to sign, he realizedthat he'd made a mistake. He saw then that the girl he loved could lookfor little enough happiness or security through you. Who, in the name ofHeaven, is this Andrew Munson? What do you owe him that you'd deprivePenelope of any future comfort, in his favor?"

  Wallie strained to hear what Bryant's reply would be, but there wasnone. In the brief pause, he heard the heavy, emotional breathing of themasked man.

  "It wasn't until this morning that I learned some truths," the maskedman continued. "I knew that someone had slipped into this Basin andmurdered Gimlet, because the killer rode within ten yards of me, but Ididn't know who he was. Tonto was halfway up Thunder Mountain when thissame man went by. It was too dark there for the Indian to identify himwhen he killed Rangoon. Then he went on to Red Oak, where he let Mortout of jail with instructions to kill you in your hotel room. You knowwhat happened there. I told you how I shot him in the leg, and how hewas later stabbed to death. Since then, I've learned _who the killeris_!

  "I told you about Tonto. He was here, waiting for the riders to comeback from Red Oak. The trail from Red Oak is on hard ground, as youknow. The trail over Thunder Mountain is marshy in a lot of places. Theloam there is soft and black, and different from anything that could befound on the trail through the Gap. Well, Tonto watched when each horsecame into the corral. He found one, just one horse, Cavendish, that hadblack loam caked to the fetlocks. He gave me the name of the man whorode and owned that horse, in a note which he left at the cave. _Thatman is your nephew, Wallie!_"

  Wallie, listening, frowned heavily, and thanked his lucky stars thatthis man with such a keen and logical mind was to be killed. He wouldprove a dangerous adversary if left alive.

  "You don't believe me," the masked man said, "you won't let yourselfbelieve, or trust anyone, but I'll _prove_ Wallie is what I've told you.If I can prove that, will you talk?"

  Wallie had heard enough. "Come on!" he cried, and threw the door wideopen.

  Lombard and Sawtell plunged into the room, and dropped to one knee whilethey opened fire. Lonergan and Vince were close behind, firing overthem, while Wallie remained in back. Guns crashed deafeningly in theconfines of the room. The white hat near the bed became a thing alive,leaping across the room in crazy circles. The mound of blankets on thebed became a shaking mass as bullet after bullet bored deep. A score ofshots roared in the blink of an eye.

  Then, back talk, in the voices of six-shooters, came from a corner ofthe room.

  Sawtell's gun jumped from his hand as if by magic. His fingers weresuddenly a bloody mass, at which the killer stared in stupefaction. Moreflames lanced from the corner, and Lombard's extended gun arm snapped asa forty-five slug tore through flesh and bone between the wrist andelbow. Sawtell felt no pain in the heat of battle. Instinctive gunmanthat he was, he fell flat upon his belly, jerking out a second revolverwith his left hand. Loud snarls and curses came from pain-maddenedLombard, while Sawtell took careful aim. He steadied his weapon at apoint directly between the eyeslits of the mask. His finger tensed uponthe trigger.

  Then, suddenly, his arm dropped, his gun unfired. He went limp andslumped. In his forehead there was a tiny hole, but the back of his headwas an awful sight where a soft-nosed bullet had gouged out his skull.

  Half-blind Bryant Cavendish fired at sounds with an instinct that wassupersensitive. Somehow the old man had found one of his guns, and criedaloud in savage hate as he rocketed shot after shot toward the doorway."They're all ag'in me," he cried out. "I'll show 'em I don't need sight!I can locate skunks by smell." His gun whammed again, and death spat atthe doorway.

  Wallie screamed his orders. "In the corner--shoot 'em--drill 'em!" Hepushed from behind at the instant
that the lawyer Lonergan took a bulletfrom the masked man's gun on the hand, and one from Bryant's bigrevolver in the belly. He pitched forward, and fell across the writhingform of Lombard. Shrill yells and cries of pain rose far above Wallie'slivid curses.

  The Lone Ranger snatched the gun from Bryant's hand. "No more shooting,"he cried.

  He leaped toward the doorway, head low, and charged. Vince had swung toface the surprise counterattack. His gun blazed, but the Lone Ranger wasbeneath the slug. He crashed into Vince with such force that the runtykiller was fairly lifted off his feet and tossed across the room, whilehis gun was jarred out of his hand.

  Wallie, knowing his life depended on the fight, scrambled up from thefloor. The thought of losing made him frantic as he swung his empty gunin a vicious blow at the Lone Ranger. The blow struck the Lone Ranger onthe bandaged shoulder. A sudden stab of pain like a white-hot irongripped his side as Wallie followed up his advantage. Still clutchingthe heavy revolver, he rammed it muzzle first into the masked man'schest.

  The Lone Ranger couldn't breathe. The blow must have broken at least onerib, possibly more. He felt his legs caving beneath him, while his brainfought valiantly against the dizziness that threatened to engulf him. Hethrew both arms about Wallie and locked his hands behind his adversary'sneck. He was falling, and helpless to prevent it. He was barelyconscious of the fact that Wallie kept driving more blows to hisstomach; blows that were too short to have much power behind them. Closeto his ear, he heard the other's voice as a meaningless jumble ofhissing syllables.

  Somehow the Lone Ranger's weight threw Wallie off his balance too. Themasked man had the fighter's heart that dictates action after the mindhas ceased functioning. A mighty heave--a wrench that split thehalf-healed wound wide open. Still falling--it seemed that time stoodstill--and split seconds were like hours--and then a crash.

  The masked man's fall was padded by the body of the man he fell on. Hissuperhuman effort had thrown Wallie beneath him as the two went down.Wallie's head smacked hard against the floor.

  Now Vince had a gun, was on his feet and coming close. His ugly facelooked like a leering demon's as he raised his gun. The Lone Rangerrolled, and as he did so, drew his extra weapon. Two guns spoke as one,their muzzles so close that the flames were intermingled. To the LoneRanger, close to acrid fumes and scorching flame, it seemed that hellhad burst into the room. And then--oblivion.