Oliver Strange - Sudden Westerns 01 - The Range Robbers(1930) (26 page)

 
          
“Durn
it, this ain’t goin’ to be such a picnic as I thought,’ he soliloquised. “Guess
I’ll have to look around for likelier spots.’

 
          
He
tried several other places with the same result, and at length flung down his
tools in disgust and went a-fishing. Here he met with more success and soon three
speckled beauties lay on the grass beside him. He broiled them for his supper
and turned in. On the following morning he again tackled the search for wealth
and found it no more successful or attractive than it had been the day before.
But he stuck manfully to it, for he was conscious of a conviction that he was
not alone in the canyon. Therefore, he was not so surprised as he appeared to
be when a rider came ambling along the bank of the stream on which he was
working, and pulled up to watch with a cordial greeting of, “Howdy, stranger.’
Green returned the salutation, while his quick eyes gathered the details of the
newcomer’s appearance. He was evidently a cowhand, about forty, with a
clean-shaven, open face, good-humour in every line of it. Hecarried a revolver
at his hip and had a
winchester
on the saddle. He was
riding a pinto horse the brand on which Green could not see. Pushing back his
big sombrero, the visitor said: “
Findin
’ much?’

 
          
Green,
kneeling over the pan, grinned up at him. “Plenty dirt,’ he replied, “but not a
smidgin’ o’ gold so far.’

 
          
The
stranger looked around. “Seems a likely place,’ he remarked. “But that’s the
funny thing ‘bout minin’; yu never can tell.’

 
          
“I
take it yo’re speakin’ from experience.’

 
          
“Shore
I am—wasted part o’ my life in California. Meanin’ no offence, I take it yu are
new at this game.’

 
          
“Yu
take it correct; I reckon I must seem plumb clumsy.’

 
          
The
other man laughed. “Everythin’ has to be learned, an’ yu
shore
are
makin’ yoreself in a mess. Lemme show yu the trick of it.’

 
          
Dismounting
from his horse, he trailed the reins, and took the pan of dirt Green was
beginning to wash. In about half the time the novice had required the pan was
empty save for a tiny residue of sand which the operator scanned eagerly, and
then threw out.

 
          
“Not
a colour,’ he said. “Well, let’s try her again.’

 
          
“Yu
shore have
got that there pannin’ business thrown an’
tied,’ Green remarked, as he watched the deft hands of the expert. “I’m hopin’
yu’ll stay an’ eat with me; my camp’s just handy.’

 
          
“Yu
bet I will. I’m short on grub an’ got a goodish way to go,’ replied the other.

 
          
The
puncher left him busy with his self-imposed task and went to prepare a meal. A
few fortunate casts provided him with fish, and when, in response to his hail,
the visitor reached the camp, an appetising odour of broiled trout and coffee
greeted him. Facing his host, cross-legged on the grass, he attacked the food
like a hungry man.

 
          
“Say,
these fish is
prime
,’ he remarked presently. “Yu may
be a mite awkward with a gold-pan but with a frying-pan yo’re ace-high.’

 
          
Over
the meal the newcomer grew communicative. His name, he said, was Dick West,
more commonly known as “California,’ and he was now punching for an outfit
whose headquarters were situated at the base of the Big Chief range.

 
          
“What
brand?’ asked the host.

 
          
“Crossed
Dumb-bell,’ replied the other, watching closely.

 
          
“New
to me,’ Green said carelessly. “Didn’t know there was a ranch in that part, but
then I ain’t infested this locality long my own self.’ He went on to give his
own
name,
and the bare fact of his dismissal from the
Y Z, taking care that his resentment should not be too obvious. The stranger
nodded understandingly.

 
          
“If
you weren’t wedded to thisyer grubbin’ for gold, yu could come along o’ me,’ he
offered. “I reckon we could use another man. The pay is fifty per an’ shares,
an’ the shares is better than the fifty per I’m tellin’ yu, for the right man.’

 
          
“Sounds
good,’ Green commented.

 
          
“It’s
as good as it sounds too,’ said the other. “Old Jeffs ain’t a bad sort either.’

 
          
“That
the boss?’

 
          
‘Actin’-boss—there’s
another feller back of him.’

 
          
For
some time they smoked in silence, Green apparently turning over the proposition
in his mind; it was no part of his plan to accept eagerly. That the rustlers
saw in him a useful recruit was possible, and what he wanted them to believe,
but there was also the chance that this was merely a trap to destroy him.
Nevertheless, he intended to go, for it was what he had been hoping for. It was
the visitor himself who brought matters to a head. Getting up, he stretched
lazily, and
remarked :

 
          
“Well,
thanks for the feed. I gotta drift; yu comin’ along?’

      
 
“Guess I might as well,’ Green replied. “I’ll
cache my tools here an’ I can come back if I want to.’

 
          
This
did not take long and having saddled his pony, he was ready.

 
          
“Ain’t
yu got another hoss—to carry yore pack?’ queried
West
,
and the puncher hid a smile, guessing that perhaps his visitor had expected to
see the roan. He shook his head.

 
          
“Not
here,’ he replied. “Bullet’s a good little hoss. He carried the pack an’ me,
though I ain’t sayin’ he liked it.’

 
          
“Some
hosses is damn near human,’ said
West
, as he led the
way up the canyon.

 
          
They
reached the tunnel and passed through into the valley, heading straight across
for the far end. Green wondered how they would get out; he soon learned. On
reaching the ledge which had baffled the Frying Pan posse, West said:

 
          
“We
gotta get down here an’ do a bit o’ work.’

 
          
Turning
to the right, he conducted his companion to a thick clump of brush which at
first glance appeared to be impenetrable. They found a way in, however, and in
the centre
lay
a pile of long, roughly-fashioned
planks.

 
          
“Reckon
a couple’ll be enough,’ said California. “Give us a hand.’

 
          
The
planks were stout and it required two trips to get them to where they had left
the horses. Placed side by side, with ends resting on the ledge, they made a
practicable gangway for the animals. They were then returned to their
hiding-place and the men clambered up the face of the ledge on foot. West
directed

 
          
Green
to mount, and then took his blanket, rolled it and tied one end of his lariat
round the middle. He too then mounted and pacing his horse directly in the wake
of his companion, dragged the roll of blanket behind him, completely
obliterating their tracks in the soft sand.

 
          
“Smart
Injun dodge that,’ commented Green. “Yu thinkin’ anybody’s after us?’

 
          
Nope,
but we use that valley an’ ain’t honin’ to advertise it,’ was the meaning
reply.

 
          
In
a few moments they left the sand, descending a stony slope into another broad
grass depression, and from thence plunging into a network of rocky winding
gulches, ravines, and patches of forest. Through this labyrinth they followed a
definite trail, over which cattle had evidently passed at no distant date. Only
one incident of note occurred and that was when California got down
to drink
at a stream. As he lifted his foot to the stirrup
his horse reared suddenly, and taken unawares, he lost his balance and toppled
backwards into a bush. Instantly there came a warning rattle and a threatening
head shot up, poised to strike, only a foot from the prostrate man’s face.
Another second and the poisonous fangs would have done their deadly work, but
Green’s gun spoke and the reptile’s head, shattered by the bullet, fell back
into the bush. When West got to his feet he was shaking.

 
          
“Gawd,
that was a close call,’ he said. “I’m thankin’ yu, pardner, an’ if ever I can
square the ‘count, yu can bank on me. Yu
shore are
some slick with a gun.’

 
          
“There
wasn’t much time,’ Green laughed. “I just naturally didn’t want to lose that
job yo’re gettin’ me.’

 
          
West
climbed his horse, cursing it good-naturedly as he did so. “There ain’t many
things I’m scared of, but snakes, ugh! I once see a feller pass out from a
snake-bite,’ he said.

 
          
The
afternoon was well-advanced when they crossed a large expanse of open range and
pulled up in front of a group of buildings, comprising a roomy ranch-house,
bunkhouse, blacksmith’s shop, and a corral. All were constructed of logs and,
Green noted, had not been long erected. Several men lounging by the bunkhouse
door greeted his companion.

 
          
“Lo,
Dick, yu got back,’ said one.

 
          
“Why,
no, but I’m liable to arrive any moment,’ smiled California, and the user of
the conventional absurdity was immediately pounded on the back.

 
          
“Aw
well, yu know what I mean,’ he protested.

 
          
West
led his companion to the ranch-house a little distance away, and in response to
his hail, another man emerged—a shorn, bow-legged fellow with squinting eyes
and a hard mouth.

 
          
He
surveyed the couple narrowly for a few minutes and then
asked
:

 
          
“What’s
yore trouble,
West
?’

 
          
In
a few brief sentences the ex-miner gave Green’s history as he knew it, and
finished by asking a job for him; the rattlesnake incident was omitted. The
decision was soon made.

 
          
“Yo’re
hired; all yu gotta do is obey orders an’ ask no questions,’ said the
bow-legged man. “Yu’ll find that gold yo’re huntin’ for right here. Take him
along, Dick.’

 
          
He
turned away and the two punchers, after disposing of the horses in the corral,
made their way to the bunkhouse. Here Green was casually presented to the nine
or ten men present as a new hand. He saw at a glance that they were a tough
lot, men of middle age or
more for
the most part,
ruffians of a type only too plentiful in the West at that time, a cursing,
hard-drinking, fighting crew who would stop at nothing when their greed or
passions were aroused. After his first entrance they took but little notice of
him, though he could see that his new friend, Dick, was popular enough. The
bunkhouse was comfortable, the food provided both good and plentiful. He
gathered nothing from the general conversation, save once, when the mysterious
Spider was mentioned.

 
          
“Who
is that?’ he asked of West, who was seated next to him. “The main boss—ain’t
here much,’ was the reply.

 
          
TARMAN
was not one to let the grass grow under his feet; he soon became an almost
daily visitor at the Y Z, where he exerted himself to the unmost to please both
the owner and his daughter. The latter, though her doubts were not entirely
dispelled, could not altogether resist the attraction of his personality. They
rode often, and despite his defeat by Blue Devil, she had to admit that he was
both at home and looked well in the saddle. Moreover, he was studiously
respectful and attentive. Though he did not make open love to her, she was
aware of his admiration. It was after one of these excursions, when sitting on
the verandah with father and daughter, that Tarman made his first reference to
Green.