Oliver Strange - Sudden Westerns 01 - The Range Robbers(1930) (31 page)

 
          
The
information wiped the colour from the girl’s face, and her voice shook as she
asked, “
Is
that true, or just town talk?’

 
          
“True
enough, I reckon, but it ain’t generally known, an’ I don’t want it should be,’
replied the cattleman meaningly. “I ain’t made up my mind what to do yet.’

 
          
“But
what is he doing here, and why did he give me the roan?’ asked the girl.

 
          
“Well,
he’s rustlin’ cattle for one thing, an’ as for the hoss, he can get him back
next time he raids the ranch,’ the told man said bitterly.

 
          
“I
suppose Mr. Tarman brought the news,’ Noreen guessed, and when her father
nodded, she went on, “I don’t believe he’s an ounlaw, and if he is, I don’t
think he would raid the Y Z, so there. One thing I’m quite sure of, if Mr.
Green had been beaten last night he wouldn’t be going around spreading scandal
about his opponent.’

 
          
“But,
Norry,’ protested Petter, “this ain’t scandal. Green was recognised by a feller
who knew him in Texas. Tarman was on’y warnin’ me, an’ come up a-purpose to do
it. Yu gotta be fair.’

 
          
“I’m
going to be—to both sides,’ the girl retorted. “I want more proof than mere
hearsay, Daddy; he didn’t seem that kind of man.’

 
          
She
turned and went into the house. Old Simon, staring after her in perplexity,
shook his head. “Women
has
me beat every way from the
jack,’ he muttered. “Tell ‘em a man’s a wrong ‘
un
an’
they either won’t believe it, or they get more interested. Yu can’t outguess
‘em nohow.’

 
          
THE
battered condition of the new hand on his return to the Crossed Dumb-bell
aroused a curiosity which he left to West to satisfy, merely stipulating that
the identity of his opponent be concealed. California agreed that this was
sound policy, and excelled himself in a vivid, denailed description of the
battle, but giving no particulars which might point to the personality of the
beaten man. But old Jeffs, sitting at the head of the table, smiled cunningly
once or twice, and Green divined that he had guessed.

 
          
The
other men had apparently no
suspicion,
their attitude
seemed to be simply one of brutish approval for the victor. Among the most
interested of the listeners was one Green had not seen before, a dwarf in
height, with a huge barrel of a body and absurd little bowed legs which seemed
utterly inadequate for its support. A great shaggy head with coarse features,
and arms which could reach almost to the tiny
knees,
completed an appearance which justified the freak’s nickname of “Gorilla.’

 
          
This
creature,
who
had been following the story of the
fight with impatient interest, now shot a question at Green: “Say, stranger, d’
yu ever come acrost a smaller cowpunch than me?’

 
          
The
query came in the truculent tone so frequently adopted by the small man who is
sensitive regarding his stature and West’s eyes flashed a warning.

 
          
“Shore
I have. Back on my old ranch in Texas there was a feller named “Tiny” who would
have looked a kid beside yu, an’ he was a blame good puncher too,’ smiled
Green. “It’s a fact, boys, that feller was so short that when he had a pain he
couldn’t tell whether it was toothache or corns.’

 
          
A
chorus of laughter greeted the humorous exaggeration and the dwarf’s booming
voice joined in.

 
          
“Haw,
haw,’ he bellowed. “Reckon he musta bin real small, that feller, but size ain’t
anythin’. I’m none so big m’self, yet I bin in a fight with fists an’ the chap
was damn near twice as tall as me.’ He looked round and grinned triumphantly at
the surprise his statement created, and then went on, “Yessir, I ain’t joshin’
neither. We had a sorter argument an’ agreed to settle with our hands ‘stead o’
shootin’, him claimin’ there was more of him to aim at. Then some o’ the boys
allowed that to make it fair he orta fight on his knees, with me standin’ up,
an’ that’s how we done. We scrapped for nigh half an hour an’ in the end I
knocked him cold. Anybody here wantta take me on the same terms?’

 
          
He
squinted at Green as he threw out the challenge and then his eyes roved round
the company. The Y Z puncher laughed and replied good-
humouredly
:

 
          
“Not
any for me, thank yu. I had a full meal o’ scrappin’ last night; I ain’t a
hog.’

 
          
The
other men seemed to accept the dwarf’s offer as a joke, sprung for the benefit
of the newcomer. The enormous muscular power of that stunted body was known to
all. The foreman clinched the discussion by saying sharply: “Draw in yore
horns, Gorilla; we gotta job comin’ along that’ll need all the sound men we can
muster.’

 
          
“Aw,
Jeffs, there won’t be no trouble,’ protested the dwarf. “Yu can see I got ‘em
all razzledazzled—scared of a little ‘un.’

 
          
In
an instant the foreman’s face changed from calm to snorm. His eyes flashed
fire, and snatching out his gun, he cried, “One more yap from yu an’ it will be
yore finish. Yu know me.’

 
          
The
pugnacious one subsided into his seat like a pricked bubble, and Jeffs, with a
savage glare round the room, went out. The scene, begun in a farcical mood, had
nearly ended in red tragedy.

 
          
“Yu
want to go slow with Jeffs, Gorilla,’ admonished
West
.
“He on’y warns a man once, an’ not allus that.’

 
          
The
stunted man did not reply; the tempest he had so suddenly raised had routed his
not over-keen faculties, and he was still in a kind of daze.

 
          
“Would
he have killed him?’ Green whispered to West.

 
          
“Shore
thing,’ replied the other. “I saw him do it once. Yu see, this is a tough crowd
an’ he’s gotta ride ‘em all the time.’

 
          
“What’s
the job he spoke of?’

 
          
“Ain’t
a notion—first I’ve heard of it. We’ll all know soon, I guess.’

 
          
The
next day was occupied with the ordinary work of the ranch, but on the following
morning preparations for some expedition began. Horses were brought in and
carefully examined, weapons were cleaned, and ropes looked at. There was an air
of general excitement, the meaning of which Green did not discover until the
foreman called him aside, and with a leering look, told him the news.

 
          
“Chance
to git yore own back a bit tonight, Green,’ he said, watching with narrowed
eyes. “We’re aimin’ to lift some o’ the Y Z stock. Yu’ll be along.’

 
          
The
puncher’s face told him nothing. “Why not?’ came the cool retort. “I’m workin’
for yu, an’ they treated me mean.
I don’t owe the Y Z nothin’
but a grudge.’

 
          
“Well,
here’s where yu pay it,’ smiled the other. “We start this afternoon.’

 
          
Left
to
himself
, Green pondered on the situation; there
were points he could not understand. Jeffs, of course, had received orders from
Tarman, but why was the latter robbing the ranch he must surely be expecting to
possess one day, for the cattle, once stolen, were the general property of the
gang. Again, so far as he could judge, he had been the last to be told, even
West
having said nothing of the projected raid. This might
be a natural precaution on the part of the foreman, who could not be sure of
Green’s real feelings towards his old ranch. Certainly he had made it
impossible for the Y Z man to send any warning unless he deserted altogether,
and Green guessed his movements were being watched. Was it a trap for himself?
Looking at it every way he could find no solution, and at length, with a shrug
of his shoulders, he decided that there was nothing to be done but go through
with it. West provided another disquieting factor.

 
          
“No,
I ain’t goin’—I gotta keep house,’ he said, regret in his tone, and then in a
whisper, he added, “Somethin’s in the wind—I dunno what, but yu better watch
out. Jeffs is goin’ this time an’ that ain’t usual.’

 
          
Green
was sorry that the talkative one was not to be of the party, for not only was
he good company, but the Y Z puncher felt that he could depend on him for help
in a tight place. Warped as he undoubtedly was, he had laws of his own, and
with the man who had saved him from a horrible death, he would play straight.

 
          
Ten
men, well-mounted and fully armed, composed the raiding force, which set out
early in the afternoon, headed for the Y Z. The trail taken was the one by
which West had brought Green to the rustlers’ headquarters. With plenty of time
at theirdisposal the men rode easily, smoking and chatting in pairs. Green,
indifferent as to whom he rode with, found himself companioned by Gorilla,
perched on the back of a big, raw-boned pony, with a hammer head and a general
lack of beauty thoroughly in keeping with its rider. The dwarf grinned at the
bigger man as he ranged alongside, and noted the disparaging glance at his
mount.

 
          
“Shore,
he ain’t much to look at, but he’s wise to cattle an’ he’ll run till he drops,’
he said, with an odd note of pride in his rumbling voice.

 
          
“Yu
don’t have to tell me,’ responded Green. “
hosses
is
where I live.’

 
          
“Yes,
an’ yu gotta good ‘un,’ said Gorilla.

 
          
“Bullet’s
a useful animal,’ agreed Green, patting his pony’s neck.

 
          
“I
wasn’t meanin’ him; what about yore other hoss, the roan…’ he stopped suddenly,
and with some confusion added, “Huh,
reckon
I’m
tanglin’ yu up with some other feller. Well, anyways, it
don’t
matter now.’

 
          
With
which cryptic remark he relapsed into silence, merely favouring the puncher
with an occasional side-glance and a sort of half-grin containing an element of
malicious mirth. Here was more food for thought; these men evidently knew more
about him than he had suspected. Why had the little man chopped his remark
short? Had he been on the point of revealing something? And why didn’t it
matter now? These questions kept the cowpuncher’s mind fully occupied until the
band reached the hidden valley, where he had to dismount and help the others
adjust the board gangway for the horses. As this was made much wider and
stronger, and left in position, it was evident that the stolen herd was to be
brought oack that way.

 
          
At
the hut in the valley a rest and a meal were taken and Jeffs gave his final
instructions. The men were told off to work in pairs and Green had Gorilla
assigned to him as partner. Then loose boards in the floor of the hut were
lifted, and from the cavity beneath a number of Indian head-dresses were
dragged. These were donned and some of the men even daubed their faces with
stain and “painted Injun.’ Then, with a whild whoop, several sprang out and
gave a creditable display of an Apache wardance, while the rest looked on and
applauded.

 
          
“Big
Chief
, “Wart-on-a-horse,” him dance too,’ yelled one,
and slung Gorilla into the cavorting ring round the fire. Anything more
ludicrous than the dwarf’s great body, with eagle plumes streaming down the
back, balanced on tiny legs trying to keep step with the others, could hardly
be conceived, and the spectacle aroused shouts of laughter. Jeffs, however,
soon put a stop to the merriment with the order to mount.

 
          
It
was growing dark when they passed through the tunnel at the lower end of the
valley and made their way down the stream. The men rode in pairs and the foreman
had named the order; Green and his partner were the middle couple, and the
cowpuncher could not believe that this was accidental. Moreover, Gorilla stuck
to him like a burr, and he had an uneasy suspicion that the little man was
riding with his gun drawn, and that he would be instantly shot down if he made
a dash for it. They rode slowly, for in the dark the trail was difficult, and
Jeffs wished to spare the horses. Mile after mile they paced through the
darkness, amid a silence broken only by the creak of saddle-leather, the clink
of a shod hoof on a stone, a laugh or an oath from one of the riders. At times
the heavy foliage shut them in completely, but when threading a gully or
crossing a ridge they could see the sky, ablaze with the twinkling lights of
other worlds.