Oliver Strange - Sudden Westerns 01 - The Range Robbers(1930) (32 page)

 
          
Several
times Green endeavoured to draw his companion into converse but the dwarf
replied only in monosyllables. He had the air of one who has nearly committed
an indiscretion and is taking no more risks. So the Y Z man was driven to his own
thoughts,
and into these a laughing face, with
rebellious golden hair, insisted upon intruding. He found himself wishing he
could see her, but would have been sadly shocked had he known how soon his
desire was to be gratified.

 
          
So
far as Green could determine, the trail they were traversing was that he and
Larry had followed, skirting Sandy Parlour, and striking the Y Z range near the
line-house where Bud had been slain. A plainsman, travelling a new trail,
instinctively picks out landmarks which, retained in the memory, will enable
him to recognise it again; the contour of a bluff, the bed of an old
watercourse, a big tree, or even a particular clump of brush, serve him as
signposts. So that the cowpuncher knew when they were nearing their destination,
and
was
moved to comment on the lack of caution shown
by the raiders.

 
          
“Shucks,
they ain’t expectin’ us,’ said Gorilla.

 
          
“Yu
mean they are expectin’ us, don’t yu?’ queried the other. “Who’s at the
line-house tonight?’

 
          
“Bent
an’ Nigger,’ replied the dwarf unthinkingly, and then, with a sudden oath,
“Here, what yu gettin’ at? How do I know who
..’

 
          
The
puncher interrupted him.
“Why not?’ he asked easily. “
I
reckon Jeffs ain’t the man to overlook a bet like that. Yu gotta suspicious
nature, Gorilla.’

 
          
“Mebbe
I have, but don’t yu play
no
tricks on me,’ came the
sullen retort.

 
          
They
were now in a little draw which sloped up on to the open range, and Jeffs
called a halt while one of the men slipped from his saddle and vanished in the
shadows. Evidently the leader of the expedition was taking no chances, and
wished to be sure that the men he looked for were actually in the cabin. The
rest of them waited, in silence now, for the return of the scout. Green
covertly tried his guns, making sure they would instantly come from the
holsters, and then, pressing his horse with his right leg, caused the animal to
gradually edge further away from Gorilla. The latter at once imitated the
movement, growling in an undertone, “
We
gotta keep
together, pard.’

 
          
The
puncher did not reply; he had found out what he wanted to know—that he was not
trusted. Doubtless, he argued, he had been included in the party as a test; if,
indeed, he was willing to rob his late employer, they would know that he was
one of them, but they would take no risks till this was proved. His own plans
were not yet
matured,
he was not ready to put his
cards on the table, for he had no evidence of Tarman’s connection with the
rustlers other than his own knowledge.

 
          
The
reappearance of the man who had gone ahead cut short his meditations.
Apparently the coast was clear, for the leader gave the word and the raiders
advanced through the draw to emerge on the open range. Then, in accordance with
the orders already given, four of the couples spread out right and left in a
wide half-circle, while Jeffs and another man headed for the line-house, the
one small window of which was lighted up. Noiselessly loping over the thick
grass, the outer horns of the half-circle of horsemen swept round to complete
the ring, and then, at the shrill cry of a coyote, which was the agreed signal,
all rode slowly towards the centre, driving in the cows. A few of the brutes
tried to dodge past the riders, but the cowponies knew their work and soon had
the fugitives turned back into the bunch. In less than an hour the gather was
made, and Jeffs rode up to find a goodly herd of six or seven score awaiting
him.

 
          
“Get
‘em on the move, boys,’ he said. “We don’t want
no
daylight in this act.’

 
          
The
men laughed and set about the task of getting the milling herd on the run.
Green was taking a hand in this when a squat, leering rider slipped up behind
and dealt him a crashing blow on the head with the barrel of a six-shooter. The
stricken man went headlong from the saddle, and the frightened pony sprang away
into the darkness before the assailant could grip the reins. With a chuckle of
triumph the dwarf looked down upon the sprawling black figure, with its garish
plumed head-dress.

 
          
“Reckon
yu’ll stay put for a bit, but yo’re damn lucky,’ he muttered. “I’d ‘a’ put a
knife in yore gizzard but Jeffs wouldn’t have it; swore he’d blow me apart if I
killed
ye
, an’ he’d do it too, blast him.’

 
          
Without
another look at his victim, the cold-blooded little freak turned his horse and
galloped after the retreating raiders.

 
          
In
the first chill of the early morning, a cowboy loped easily over the plain in
the direction of the line-house. It was Durran, and his eyes gleamed as he
noted the almost entire absence of cattle.

 
          
“Seems
they made a pretty clean sweep,’ he muttered. “Hell, what’s that?’

 
          
He
had caught sight of the Indian head-dress and in a moment was gazing down at
it, a sinister grin on his lips. “So they got him, eh?’ he continued, “
an
’ got him good by the look of it. Well, that’ll put a
crimp in yu, Mister Man.’

 
          
He
spurred his mount to the cabin, sprang down and thrust open the door. At the
sight which greeted him he leant against the doorpost and rocked winh laughter.
Bent and Nigger, hog -nied and helpless, lay sprawling on the
floor.
A simultaneous curse from both cut short his merriment.

 
          
“Come
an’ ease off these ropes an’ stop yore jackass bray,’ supplemented Nigger.
“Jeffs shore knows all about knots, blast him.’

 
          
Durran
slashed them loose with his knife, still chuckling, and the bound men stood up
and chafed their aching limbs. “Glad yu fellers had this end of it,’ commented
their rescuer. “Just a mite unnecessary, warn’t it?’

 
          
“No,
it warn’t,’ replied Bent. “Jeffs aims to play safe. S’pose one o’ the other
boys,
or some o’ the Frying Pan outfit had sifted in before
yu, how’s it goin’ to look for us? An’ he shore did a good job, cuss him.’

 
          
“Green’s
a-layin’ out there,’ Durran said, jerking his thumb towards the open door. “
Looks like he’s cashed.’

 
          
“Cashed
nothin’—just a tap with a gun,’ said Bent. “I did that when they first rushed
us.’

 
          
“Yu
did?’ ejaculated Durran, and then suddenly comprehending, “Why, o’ course, it
musta been one o’ yu. Ain’t it hell how neat it’s workin’ out, an’ won’t
Rattler be pleased to see him?’

 
          
“He’ll
be a gladder sight than four aces; reckon we’d better fetch him in.’

 
          
Green
was still unconscious when they laid him in one of the bunks, and having
removed his guns and tied his feet together, began to bathe the gash on his
head. Under their ministrations he came to his senses but it was some little
time before he could realise what had happened. Then he began to get a
glimmering of the trap which had been so artfully prepared, and into which he
had blundered blindly.

 
          
After
a meal Durran rode off again to carry the news to the ranch. The other two men
sat at the door conversing in low nones, and taking no notice of the prisoner.
The reflections of the latter were the reverse of pleasant. He was in a tight
place, caught in the act of rustling, and by the custom of the country the
nearest tree and a rope would be his portion when the foreman of the Y Z
arrived. His one chance lay in being taken to the ranch and having speech with
Simon, and he doubted whether Blaynes would give him that opportunity.
Lying
there, his head throbbing painfully, he suddenly
became aware that the voices from the doorway were louder, and he could hear
something of what was said.

 
          
“The
Y Z first an’ then the Frying Pan,’ said Bent. “The Spider ain’t
no
small thinker, I reckon.’

 
          
“An’
with him out o’ the way things’ll go a-hummin,’ put in Nigger, and Green
guessed that the reference was to himself. “Dunn why, but I allus suspected
that feller.’

 
          
“Same
here,’ agreed his friend. “Well, he won’t trouble none of us soon, though it
seems almost a pity to rub out a chap as can lick the Spider in a fist fight,
don’t it?’

 
          
“Shucks,
he musta been lucky.’

 
          
“Mebbe,
but I saw him lay out Rattler an’ there warn’t no luck about that eepisode,
believe me.’

 
          
“Yeah,
an’ Rattler ain’t forgot it, so I guess yu don’t have to worry,’ said Nigger.
“We better have a look at the tracks them damn rustlers left.’

 
          
He
heard them laugh and go for their horses. They knew their prisoner was secure,
for not only was he bound but he had no horse to get away on. The captive also
realised the futility of thoughts of escape, and with the philosophy of a man
who has been in desperate circumstances before, he awaited events. He was, in
fact, asleep when the foreman, accompanied by the Y Z outfit, arrived in the
afternoon. Rattler’s eyes, as they rested on the bound man in the bunk,
betrayed venomous satisfaction.

 
          
“Just
what I allus thought,’ he sneered. “
Got yu with the goods,
too.
Well, we ain’t
no
time to waste. Fetch him
along an’ pick out a good rope.’

 
          
But
the foreman was taking too much for granted. His party included Snap, Larry,
Dirty, and Simple, and when the prisoner saw them grouped together he wished he
had not been so tight-mouthed about his plan of campaign. He need not have
worried, for the foreman’s order had no sooner been uttered than Lunt stepped
forward.

 
          
“Hold
yore horses, Blaynes,’ he said quietly. “There ain’t goin’ to be no hangin’
here.’

 
          
The
foreman whirled on him, his features twisted with rage. Snap returned his glare
through slitted eyes,
contemptuously,
his thumbs
hooked in his gun-belt, but all there knew that he was ready, and that his
opponent’s first move would in all probability be also his last. Blaynes knew
it too, and had recourse to bluster.

 
          
“How
long yu been in charge o’ this outfit?’ he stormed. “An’ where’d yu get yore
authority to countermand my orders?’ Takin’ them questions as they come, I’ve
been in charge ever since I joined the outfit,’ sneered Lunt. “An’ as for
authority, well, what’s the matter with these?’ and he swept the tips of his
fingers over the black butts of his guns.

 
          
Blaynes
would have given ten years of his life for the power no snatch out his weapon,
but he knew he could not do it. Had it been any other man in the outfit he
would not have hesitated, but this grim bow-legged little puncher was a chilly
proposinion; the squinting, mocking eyes told that he would shoot to kill, and
was hungering for the opportunity. Rattler preferred to temporise.

 
          
“See
here, Snap, what in hell’s got into yu?’ he asked. “This feller’s a rustler,
playin’ Injun to steal our cattle and caught with the goods.
‘Sides
which, he’s a damn sneakin’ spy.
What yu takin’ his end for?’

 
          
Snap
grinned. He knew perfectly well that this appeal was made, not to him, but to
any other of the men who might take his side.

 
          
He
replied promptly: “Mebbe he’s all yu say, an’ mebbe he ain’t, but he’s agoin’
back to the ranch for the Old Man to decide. It
ain’t yore
cattle that’s
missin’ anyways.
There’s
four of
us thinks like this, an’ if yu others wants argue about it yu can turn yore
wolf loose as soon as yo’re ready.’