Oliver Strange - Sudden Westerns 01 - The Range Robbers(1930) (27 page)

 
          
“That
puncher yu fired hasn’t pulled his freight, I notice,’ he said. The roan yu
give him is still in the hotel corral.’

 
          
“Didn’t
yu say he was going prospectin’?’ Simon asked Noreen.”That is what he told me,’
she replied, and did not fail to note the little crease in Tarman’s brow.

 
          
“Some
folks find gold in other folks’ cattle,’ he sneered. ‘Anybody can buy a miner’s
outfit.
It’s
bein’ said in town that he’s got into bad
company.’

 
          
Noreen
laughed.
“Town talk; why, I wouldn’t condemn a coyote on
that.’

 
          
“Neither
would I, not if I was at all acquainted with the coyote,’ smiled the big man,
“but one o’ the Double X boys claims that he saw Green over towards Big Chief,
ridin’ with a mighty hard-lookin’ crew, strangers to these parts. I’m thinkin’
he may have found them rustlers he was lookin’ for.’

 
          
“Sounds
queer—I don’t know of any ranch over there,’ said Simon. “I expect it’s just as
well I got rid of him.’

 
          
The
girl said no more, but the information made her uneasy. She knew, of course,
that Tarman was jealous of the onher, cleverly as he tried to conceal the fact,
but she did not think he had invented the story, and meeting Larry later on,
she asked a plain question.

 
          
“Yes,
Miss Norry,’ he told her. “It was Dutch who claimed to have seen him, an’ o’
course some o’ them smart Alecks gotta start ornamentin’ his yarn. Why, one of
‘em told me Green had been seen alterin’ brands! He warn’t quite so shore of
his facts when I’d done arguin’ with him,’ he finished, grinning at the
recollection of an indignant citizen trying to curse and retract his statements
at the same time, while his face was being enthusiastically jammed into the
dust of the street.

 
          
The
girl smiled too, for the young puncher’s wholehearted faith in his friend was
good to see. It cheered her also to find it was shared by others; Ginger, now
well enough to sun himself on the bench outside the bunkhouse, was equally
emphatic.

 
          
“Don’t
yu worry, Miss,’ he said. “That feller’s as straight as a string, an’ if them
bums in Hatchett’s get too fresh, me an’ one-two more’ll have to go in an’ read
the Riot Act to ‘em. He’ll show up again, fine as silk.’

 
          
This
prediction was realised sooner than the maker of it anticipated for that very
evening Green rode into town. For once rumour had spoken truly, for his new job
had taken him, with half a dozen others, to a small, hidden valley, and the
work done there was the rebranding of a herd of Frying Pan cattle.

 
          
“Reckon
yu can use a straight iron?’ asked Jeffs, and on Green replying in the
affirmative, that part of the job was assigned to him, the others cutting out,
throwing and tying the victims. Without it being noticed, Green managed to
introduce a slight variation in the brand which would enable him to identify
the animals he had operated upon. He was a quick and accurate worker and Jeffs
meant what he said when he complimented him.

 
          
“Yu
done a good job,’ was his comment, when the last of the herd staggered to its
feet, shook its head, and charged blindly after its companions. “Reckon yo’re
due for a rest. I want somebody to go into Hatchett’s.
How
about it?’

 
          
“Glad
to,’ replied the puncher. “When do I start?’

 
          
“Right away, if yu like,’ said Jeffs. ‘
Yu can stay the night
there an’ come back in the mornin’.’

 
          
On
their return to the ranch, Jeffs handed Green a sealed packet. “Just leave it
at the hotel—he may not be there,’ he said. “Anyways, there’s no answer.’

 
          
The
messenger slipped the packet into the pocket of his chaps, merely noting that
it was addressed in the name of “Marway,’ and went off to saddle a fresh mount.
He had not gone far on his journey when West caught him up.

 
          
“Wasn’t
expectin’ yu,’ remarked Green. “Jeffs forget somethin’?’

 
          
“Nope,
said I could come along,’ replied the other. “
I’m just
apinin’ for civilisation.’

 
          
“There’s
about as much of it in Hatchett’s as there was gold in that creek yu found me
pannin’,’ Green told him.

 
          
“Mebbe,
but there’s liquor, an’ a chance to buck the wheel an’ lose some o’ my hard-earned
wealth,’ was the smiling reply. “I ain’t been there yet; what’s it like?’

 
          
“Just
the same as any other cow-town,’ said Green. “Reckon if somebody mixed ‘em up
in a herd, it’d be hell of a job to cut out the town yu wanted—this is, if you
was silly enough to want any of ‘em.’

 
          
California
laughed and went on to tell of the “boom’ towns he had encountered during his
mining travels, towns which sprang up like mushrooms in a night when a lucky
strike was made, and vanished as quickly when the diggings petered out.

 
          
“Yes,
sir,’ he said. “I’ve gone to sleep in what looked like a thrivin’ an’ busy
settlement an’ woke up in the mornin’ to find nearly every blame buildin’ gone,
an’ me for the on’y inhabitant. Most of the said buildin’s bein’ tents
transportation wasn’t so darned difficult.’

 
          
He
was one of those easy talkers who enjoy an audience, and an adventurous and by
no means blameless career, regarding which he showed no reticence, provided him
with plenty of material. Born in a mining camp, he had been prospector,
gambler, bartender, mule-skinner, and cowpuncher, besides engaging between
while in other less laudable means of getting a living. He had made fortunes
and lost them.

 
          
“Some
fellers can freeze on to the dollars,’ he laughed. “Me, I never could nohow.’

 
          
Green
listened, throwing in a remark now and then, but in no wise returning the
other’s confidences. Only once he asked a direct question: “Ever run across a
chap named Webb, a big, beefy feller with red hair?’

       
“Don’t remember any such. What was he?’

       
“A damn thief—but he called himself a
cattleman.’

 
          
The rasp in the voice made West look at the speaker.
“I’m
guessin’ he ain’t a friend o’ yores,’ he hazarded.

 
          
‘Yo’re
right,’ responded Green. “I’m aimin’ to make cold meat of him someday.’

 
          
Night
was coming on when they reached their destination and the town was showing
signs of emerging from the stagnation of the day. Green left his packet at the
honel, and having arranged for beds, he and his companion were free to “take in
the town.’ Their first call was at the stores, for both were in need of
tobacco, and the old proprietor greeted them with an odd look of surprise. All
he said, however, was, “
Found
that gold-mine yet?’

 
          
The
cowpuncher shook his head and grinned. “
Them tools o’ yores
has
been plumb unlucky so far,’ he said. “But the fishhooks came in
right handy.
Any news?’

 
          
“Well,
I dunno as there is. The marshal has bin shootin’ off his mouth about a feller
who was reckoned to be prospectin’, an’ if I was that feller an’ had to come to
town, I’d have a fast hoss where I could get to him easy, in case I wanted to
leave in a hurry.’

 
          
The
hint was plain enough. “Tonk ain’t the holy terror he’d like to be thought,’
smiled Green. “All the same, if I was that feller I’d be mighty obliged to yu.’

 
          
They
walked down the street in the direction of the Folly. The only bit of
excitement was provided by a pup which, bolting headlong from a couple of
yelling
children,
collided with a pedestrian. The
latter, swinging a heavy foot, lifted the astonished cur well into the middle
of the road, where it was triumphantly pounced upon by the pursuers. The
pedestrian turned into the saloon, after hesitating outside the Dance Hall,
where the stamping of many feet on the boarded floor and the howl of a tortured
fiddle proclaimed that a dance was in progress. Green and his companion
followed. One swift glance as they crossed the space between the door and the
bar told Green that, in some quarters anyway, his appearance was unlooked for.

 
          
“Lo,
Silas,’ he said, and then, seeing Snap Lunt, Durran, and Nigger a little
further along the bar, he added, “Howdy, boys; yu joinin’ me?’

 
          
“Shore,’
replied Snap, but the other two mumbled some excuse and turned away. Green
laughed.

 
          
“Ain’t
swore
off, have they, Snap?’ he inquired.

 
          
“Not
so as yu’d notice it, but they dassn’t drink with yu; Blaynes is settin’ over
there.’

 
          
Green
looked in the direcnion indicated and saw that the foreman of the Y Z was
playing poker with Pete, Laban, and Tarman.

 
          
“It
don’t seem to worry yu none,’ he said.

 
          
The
little gunman smiled grimly. “I ain’t scared o’ Blaynes,’ he said.

 
          
Green
spun a dollar on the bar to pay for the drinks and Silas picked it up. “Why
don’t yu pay in dust?’ he bantered.

 
          
“What,
an’ have all town campin’ on my trail for the next week. Yu must think I’m well
named,’ retorted the puncher.

 
          
“I
never did think that,’
grinned
Silas. “But say, you
want to watch out; it isn’t
none
o’ my business, but
some people was expectin’ yu tonight.’

 
          
The
speaker’s glance rested for a second or two on Tarman and his companions.
Through apparently playing cards, it was plain that they were also deep in
conversation. At that moment a boy from the hotel entered and handed Pete a
package. Green recognised it. The gambler read the contents, said something in
a low voice, and they all laughed.

 
          
Green
sensed that something was about to happen. That he had been deliberately sent
into Hatchett’s he had already suspected, but for what purpose he had yet to
find out. Snap and
West
were busy swapping gold-mining
experiences, for the gunman had also followed the trail of the pick and shovel,
and this left the puncher at liberty to study his surroundings. The room was
fairly full, and though he had no reason to think he was disliked, he knew that
if it came to a showdown, most of the men present would stand aloof or take
sides against him. The entry of four Double X punchers led by their one-eyed
chief did not add to his feeling of security. As though they had been waiting
for this reinforcement, the poker party broke up and adjourned to the bar.
Again the door swung to admit Larry and Dirty. The former gave a whoop when he
saw Green.

 
          
“Gee,
Dirty, we shore are in luck. There’s the ruddy minin’ magnit, with nobody but
Snap
to waste his substance on. Let’s provide him with a
better opportunity.’

 
          
Disregarding
the scowls of their foreman, they ranged themselves by the side of Green and
his companion, and glass in hand smiled genially on those around them. They had
come to town quite by chance, looking for no more than a drink or two and a
game of cards, but when they saw the company in the saloon they realised that
something was on. Others, not in any way interested, seemed to know it too and
there was an air of general expectancy about the whole gathering. Then the
marshal came in, glared savagely at Green for an instant, and joined Tarman’s
group at the bar.

 
          
Green,
replying absently to Larry, was to all appearances ignorant of the fact that he
was in a hornets’ nest. West, at any rate, was not deceived, for he whispered,
“Get outa this; it’s a frame-up an’ yu ain’t gotta chance.’