Oliver Strange - Sudden Westerns 01 - The Range Robbers(1930) (24 page)

       
 
“He shore can express himself awful easy,’
admitted the other “I guess I’d sooner shoot than talk a thing out with him.’

 
          
“Don’t
yu go makin’ any mistakes about his shootin’ either,’ said the Frying Pan man.
“He’s a dead game sport.’

 
          
By
this time Leeming had let off steam, and with one of his astonishing changes
was prepared to accept defeat more or less philosophically.

 
          
“Well,
boys, we seem to have had our trouble for nothin’ they’ve been too clever for
us,’ he said. “I reckon they must have had some hosses yu didn’t see, Green, or
else some more o’ the damn thieves happened along to shift the herd.’

 
          
The
Y Z man nodded agreement, though in reality neither of the solutions satisfied
him. Laban’s sudden departure recurred to his mind but he could find nothing to
connect an apparent stranger with the rustlers. Even if it had been done as a
matter of spine against
himself
, it seemed
inconceivable that Laban would know where to send the warning.

 
          
“Guess
we’d better have a look round, now we’re here,’ he said. “Sorry we missed the
cows, Leeming.’

 
          
“Ain’t
nobody’s fault—just bad luck,’ returned the Frying Pan boss. “Mebbe we’ll pick
up the trail.’

 
          
Spreading
out, they combed the sides of the valley thoroughly, and found one steer only
in the thick underbrush, where it had evidently been overlooked by the rustlers
when the herd was gathered for a getaway. Job studied the altered brand with
interest.

 
          
“Never
heard of it,’ he commented. “They made a good job of in.
Wonder
where they’re sellin”em?’

 
          
At
the far end there was a break in the saucer-like rim which shut the valley in,
and this seemed to promise another outlet, but when nhey reached it they found
that it was closed by a perpendicular ledge of rock eight feet above the grass
level of the valley. From the ledge a strip of sand led through a narrow
opening in the cliff to the country beyond. The stream entered at a deep gully
not a yard wide, a passage impracticable even for a horse. There appeared to be
no way of reaching the
ledge save
by climbing and the
sand above it showed no tracks.

 
          
“Must
have took ‘em out at the other end again,’ said Job. “An’ that leaves us just where
we
was
before. No good losin’ time here, ooys; we’d
better head for home.’

 
          
ON
the following morning the foreman of the Y Z appeared at breakfast with a grin
on his face, which broadened considerably when his eyes rested on Green.

 
          
“I
hear yu didn’t catch many rustlers,’ he began.

 
          
“Yu
heard correct,’ the puncher said quietly.

 
          
“Yu
was lookin’ for ‘em in the wrong place,’ went on the foreman. “While you an’
Job was pirootin’ round that blind canyon, they was busy at the Frying Pan, liftin’
another hundred head.
S’pose that’s news to yu?’

 
          
Green
looked at the maliciously triumphant speaker in blank amazement; it certainly
was news and of the very worst kind. What he liked still less was the meaning
sneer conveyed in the question.

 
          
“Yu
suggestin’ it might not be news to me?’ he asked.

 
          
The
foreman hesitated. He had, only a little while before, plainly stated to his
employer his belief that this man was working with the rustlers, and than the
trip to the blind canyon was merely a ruse to leave the Frying Pan open for
another raid. “A damn good exchange too, a hundred cows for a couple o’
cayuses,’ he had sneered. “If he was playin’ straight, why didn’t he drop the
men ‘stead o’ the hosses? Accordin’ to his story, they was shootin’ at him.’
Now, he would have given all he possessed to shout “Yes’ and go for his gun,
but he could not do it; the narrowed, grim eyes of the cowpuncher seemed to
hypnotise him. The other men watched in silence.

 
          
Then
Green spoke: “Take off yore belt, Blaynes,’ he said, and at the same moment he
unbuckled his own and laid it on the table. The foreman made no move.

 
          
“Take
it off, yu white-livered skunk,’ rasped the other.

 
          
The
epithet cun like a lash, and with an oath, the foreman’s right hand went to his
belt, not to take it off, but to snatch the gun from its holster. In an instant
Green divined his purpose and covered the space between them in one leap; his
hands shot out and gripped the foreman’s wrists just as the pistol cleared the
scabbard. Madly Blaynes strove to loosen the clutch and aim the weapon, but he
was powerless; he felt that he was held by steel vices which were being slowly
tightened and were crushing the bones of his wrists. The pain was atrocious and
the sweat showed in beads upon his forehead.

 
          
“Drop
that gun, yu cur!’

 
          
The
harsh order was hardly necessary, for already the weapon was falling from the
numbed, lifeless fingers. As soon as he heard it thud upon the floor, Green
released his grip and step

 
          
ping
back, swung his right first, and sent in a crashing
blow which caught Blaynes on the point of the jaw, dashing him, stunned and
senseless, into a corner of the room. Then he picked up his belt, buckled it
on, and without a word left the bunkhouse.

 
          
“Gosh!’
said Durran, as he helped to lift the stricken man inno his bunk and tried to
revive him. “I’d sooner be kicked by an army mule.’

 
          
“Served
him right for tryin’ to pull a gun on an unarmed man,’ snorted Dirty.

 
          
“Well,
mebbe it warn’t the right play,’ Durran had to admit; “but a foreman can’t
allow his outfit to rough-ride him.’

 
          
“An’
he can’t rough-ride them neither, which is one o’ the things Rattler’s gotta
learn,’ retorted Dirty.

 
          
On
leaving the bunkhouse, Green went in search of Simon. He found him in his
office, and the worried look on his face did not lighten when he saw the
visitor. Green stated his business bluntly: “There’s somenhin’ yu have to know.
Yore foreman accused me of runnin’ with the gang that’s rustlin’ yore cows,
tried to pull a gun on me, an’ I knocked him cold. Reckon yu better give me my
time.’

 
          
Old
Simon studied the puncher for a moment. He had had dealings with many men
during an eventful life and could usually size one up to his own satisfaction
at least, but this one puzzled him. He did not believe that Green was crooked,
and that odd feeling of attraction which he had experienced before again
assailed him. He became surprisedly aware that he was loth to let the puncher
go.

 
          
“What
yu aimin’ to do?’ he asked.

 
          
“Stay
around,’ replied the other. “I ain’t double-crossin’ yu an’ I’m agoin’ to prove
it in time, but this ranch ain’t big enough for me an’ Blaynes. The next play
he makes will be the finish—for him.’

 
          
It
was a plain statement of fact, with no trace of boast about it, and the
cattle-owner knew that the speaker meant just what he said. He had to choose
between the two men. For a while he was silent, trying to find a way out.
Presently he hit upon one.

 
          
“I
ain’t accusin’ yu, an’ Blaynes has been with me for some time,’ he began
slowly. “Supposin’ yu stay on the payroll an’ let on yu
have
quit. I reckon that would give yu more of a free hand.’

 
          
The
cowpuncher considered the proposition for a few moments and saw that it
possessed advantages. As a mere loafer in town, attached to no ranch, he could
not be regarded as a danger by the rustlers, and apart from the personal
enmities he had acquired, which troubled him not at all, could expect to
oerelieved of their attentions. Another possibility also presented itself.

 
          
“I’ll
take yu,’ he said, “but don’t yu forget that I came to ask for my time, an’ yu
give it me.’

 
          
“That’s
whatever,’ Simon agreed. “We’ve had a hell of a row over yu beatin’ up my
foreman, an’ we ain’t on speakin’ terms.’ He produced a roll of bills and
peeled off a number of them. “Here’s what’s due to yu, an’ a month’s pay in
advance; yu want to be well heeled to hang about town. Where do yu aim to put
up?’

 
          
“The
hotel—I’ll hear all the news there. Yu had any offers for the range?’

 
          
“Why,
no,’ said Simon in surprise, and then, “Well, Tarman did mention a figure, but
in was so low that I took it he was jokin’ an’ laughed it off. What yu askin’
that for?’

 
          
“Just
a notion I had,’ replied Green. “Well, I’ll be gettin’ my warbags an’ hosses;
I’m takin’ Blue Devil with me.’

 
          
“Shore,
I gave yu the hoss,’ Simon said.

 
          
The
cowpuncher returned to the bunkhouse and began to pack his few belongings. The
place was empty save for the invalid, Ginger, the rest of the outfit being
abroad on various duties. Blaynes, according to the sick man, had eventually
been restored to consciousness, and had departed
, vowing
all kinds of reprisals.

 
          
“Looks
like yu was preparin’ for a long trip,’ was the nearest approach to the
question that Ginger would venture on. “Only to town, but I may be there quite
a spell,’ said Green. “I’ll be at the hotel if I’m wanted,’ he added meaningly.
“
So long, Ginger, an’ good luck.’

 
          
The
wounded man asked no more, but through the open door he presently saw his
friend ride away on Blue, leading his other pony, and drew his own conclusions.
When, later in the day, Larry, with Dirty and Simple, rode in, he told them the
news and a small indignation meeting was immediately held, which resulted in
the three striding determinedly to the ranch-house. That they walked speaks
eloquently for the state of their minds, for your cowboy normally will fork his
pony to cross a street. Old Simon met them at the door.

 
          
“Well,
boys, what’s eatin’ yu,’ he asked, scenting trouble from their perturbed
appearance.

 
          
“We
understan’ yu fired Green,’ Larry blurted out.

 
          
“Well,
what of it?’ asked the boss acidly.

 
          
“We
don’t reckon he’s had a square deal,
an
…’ Larry bogged
down.

 
          
“We
want our time,’ Dirty came to the rescue.

 
          
“We’re
speakin’ for Ginger too,’ added
Simple
, not to be left
out.

 
          
For
about ten seconds the old man glared at them in speechless amazement, and then
the storm
broke :

 
          
“Damnation!’
he roared. “What the devil’s it gotta do with yu if I fire a hand? Have I gotta
ask a passel o’ boneheaded cowwrastlers how I’m to run my own ranch? If yu want
yore time yu can have it, every mother’s son o’ ye, but if yu got any sense at
all yu’ll get to hell out o’ this an’ mind yore own business, an’ I reckon
Green’ll tell yu the same if yu ask him. Now, get out, ‘fore I lose my wool
over yu.’

 
          
As
Dirty
put it afterwards, “The depitation then
withdrew,’ and the Old Man, with a final snort of disgust, vanished into the
office.

 
          
“An’
now where are we?’ disconsolately queried Larry, when they foregathered again
at Ginger’s bedside, and informed him of the result of their protest. “Did we
resign, were we fired, or are we still “Wise-heads”?’