Oliver Strange - Sudden Westerns 01 - The Range Robbers(1930) (4 page)

 
          
“No,
I didn’t; an’ I reckon the old fool must ‘a bin loco to give a stranger the
best hoss on the ranch,’ growled the foreman. “What was the idea?’

 
          
Larry,
who was enjoying himself hugely, gave a lurid but correct account of how Blue
Devil came to change owners, and the foreman’s face became more and more
venomous as he listened. When the tale was told he turned away without comment,
but had Larry been gifted with the faculty of reading expressions he would have
realized that he had raised trouble aplenty for his new friend. But as that
care-free youngster swung to his saddle his spoken thought was:

 
          
“That’s
one right in the solar perlexus, as the scientific
guys puts
it.’

 
          
Blaynes,
who had his own views regarding the Y Z ranch and the pretty girl who would one
day own it, strode savagely to the ranch-house, fighting his rage as he would
have fought a vicious pony. He met the Old Man coming out.

 
          
“Givin’
yore hosses away, I hear,’ he sneered.

 
          
“I
gave away a savage brute that near killed my girl, yes,’ replied Simon.

 
          
“Best
bit o’ hoss-flesh we got, anyways,’ said Blaynes. “On’y wanted tamin’.’

 
          
“Then
why didn’t ye do it?’ retorted the Old Man. “I offered to give that hoss to
anybody that could ride him months ago. Yu all tried an’ got “piled,” an’ then
Norry gets the fool notion she could do it, an’ I damn near lose her. What have
yu got against the new man, eh?’

 
          
“Don’t
like the looks of him no how,’ the foreman said, scowling at the reference to
his riding defeat, which rankled none the less because every man of the outfit
had shared it.

 
          
“I
figure he knows his job,’ Simon said shortly.

 
          
“Mebbe
he does,’ rejoined Blaynes, who knew just how far he could go with his
employer, and had no desire to pass the limit. “My point is this—we’re losin’
too many steers to take chances on strangers. How do yu know he ain’t in with
the rustlers?’

 
          
“How
do I know that half o’ ye ain’t in with ‘em?’ snapped Simon savagely, for the
continual loss of his cattle was hitting him sorely. “Yu don’t seem
no
strike their trail very lively.’

 
          
Blaynes
ground out an oath. “Yu ain’t
no
call to say that o’
the boys,’ he remonstrated. “We’re all a-doin’ our best.
Them
war-paints is hard to canch in this kind o’ country.’

 
          
“Huh!
Yu still reckon
it’s
‘Paches, do yu?’ said Simon.
“Well, yo’re wrong, Blaynes. Redskins might lift a stray cow or two for the
meat, but they wouldn’t take ‘em by the score. No, sir, it’s an organized gang
o’ rustlers, an’ it’s up to yu to corral ‘em.’

 
          
He
turned and went indoors, the foreman’s eyes following him with a malignant
look. This changed magically to a smile as Noreen came out.

 
          
“Mornin’,
Miss Norry. Yo’re lookin’ fine in spite o’ yore shakeup last night,’ was his
greeting.

 
          
“I
wasn’t hurt—only a wee bit scared,’ she admitted.

 
          
“Some
folks
has
all the luck. Wish I’d bin there,’ said the
foreman regretfully, with a look which made the girl turn sharply away. “What
do yu think o’ this new guy?’

 
          
“Naturally
my principal feeling is one of gratitude,’ returned the girl. “He struck me as
being capable, and’—she added roguishly—”rather good-looking.’

 
          
Blaynes
frowned. He had got more than he bargained for. “Looks ain’t much to go on,’ he
said. “I’ve seed cattle-thieves that had him beat a mile thataway, an’ as I
told the Old Man just now, we can’t afford to run risks with strangers when
we’re losin’ steers. He’ll do to keep an eye on that feller.’

 
          
“I
wonder if he’s married,’ the girl speculated, with a mischievous smile.

 
          
“Ugh!
Probably got half a dozen wives scattered around the country—that sort usually
has,’ snorted the foreman.

 
          
“He
doesn’t look like a Mormon; but still, I’ll help oy keeping an eye on him, as
you suggest, Blaynes,’ Noreen laughed as she turned away.

 
          
Rattler
waited until she was out of earshot and then swore fervently. It was distinctly
not his lucky morning.

 
          
Green
soon ranged alongside Durran, whose eyes opened wide when they saw the horse
his companion was riding; he had not witnessed the scene at the corral.

 
          
“How
come yu on that lump o’ deviltry?’ he asked.

 
          
“Oh,
I just climbed up on him,’ said Green airily.

 
          
“Lots
of us
has
done that, but nary one could stay there,’
was the reply. “Yu must be a medicine-man with hosses.’

 
          
“I
savvy them,’ was Green’s answer.

 
          
Durran’s
comment was an inarticulate grunt, and for some miles they loped steadily over
the grassy plain without exchanging a word, though the new man did not fail to
note the covert, appraising glances of the other.

 
          
“Feed
aplenty,’ he remarked presently. “If she’s all like this, the Y Z should carry
some cattle.’

 
          
“She
ain’t all like this, but there’s enough that is,’ Durran replied. “She’d be one
big ranch if the owner knew his job.’

       
“I heard he was a good cattleman,’
Green said.

 
          
“Yu
heard correct—he was a good cattleman; but he started gittin’ old quite a piece
ago, an’ it’s tellin’ on him. Why, there’s cows bein’ stole every week, an’
he don’t do nothin’
. If it wasn’t for Rattler,
them
rustlers would ‘a got the whole shootin’ match by now.’

      
 
“Good man, Rattler, eh?’ queried Green.

 
          
“Yu
said it,’ responded Durran, but with no undue enthusiasm in his tone. “
Up to his work.
Yes, sir. An’ it wouldn’t astonish me none
to find him ownin’ this ranch some day. I’ve a hunch it’ll pay to tie to him.’

 
          
They
had left the undulating plain and were entering a stretch of rough country
which, gashed and scarred, formed the base to a great range of hills, the
jagged ridge-line of which showed clear against the sky. The ground in front of
them presented a multiplicity of character. Miniature deserts, arid little
areas of sand and cactus, interspersed with brush-filled draws, tiny canyons
with verdure-clad, overhanging sides, valleys carpeted with lush grass and fed
by trickling streams, huge masses of rock, apparently hurled by some mighty
hand from the distant range, all jumbled together in inextricable confusion.
And behind it all the black belt of pines which clothed the lower slopes of the
mountains.

 
          
“Best
keep yer eyes open, in case we git separated,’ warned Durran. “We call this the
Maze, an’ it’s a damned sight easier to git into than out of, ‘
specially
for a stranger.’

 
          
“Reckon
yo’re right,’ Green agreed. “What do they call the hills over there?’

 
          
“Big
Chief Range,’ replied Durran. “An’ mighty mean country ‘cept for redskins an’
rustlers.’

 
          
They
now began to come upon signs of strayed cattle, and were too fully occupied in
routing them out of the brush and starting them back to the plain for converse.
Green soon discovered that his mount, though obviously new to the work, had the
inherited instincts of a cowpony, and was quick to learn.

 
          
“Yu
an’
me
is goin’ to get along fine, Blue,’ the rider
soliloquized after a tussle with a pugnacious steer which had to be roped and
thrown before it would listen to reason. This was by no means the only incident
of the kind, for the strays were in a half-wild state, and showed a tendency to
“go on the prod’ when driven from their retreat.

 
          
Presently,
riding through a small grassy glade surrounded by cottonwoods, Green pulled up
sharply. At his feet lay a dead cow, and a few yards away were the ashes of a
tiny fire. His hail brought Durran to the spot.

 
          
“Paches,’
he said at once, pointing to a broken feather, lying as though accidentally dropped,
near the carcase. The new hand picked it up and examined it thoughtfully.

 
          
“Ain’t
like Injuns to leave their name and address,’ he said slowly. “Nor meat
either.’

 
          
“Huh!
They was interrupted an’ had to make a quick getaway,’ suggested Durran.

 
          
Green
was examining the dead cow. It had been shot in the head, and round the
bullet-hole the hair was singed.

 
          
“So
they fired that shot to advertise their whereabouts,’ he said. “No,
that don’t
explain it.’

 
          
“Well,
that war-bonnet plume talks plenty loud enough for me,’ returned Durran, with a
dark look. “Fac’s is fac’s.’ Green saw that the man’s mind was made up, and
that argument would be futile, so he dropped the subject. He could not fail to
note, however, that Durran’s attitude for the rest of the day was a sulky one;
apparently he resented the questioning of his judgment, and his conversation
was confined to the work in hand.

 
          
It
was getting towards evening when they returned to the ranch, and they were as
hungry as a day in the saddle can make a man. Nevertheless, Green rode past the
bunkhouse and up to the owner’s dwelling. Old Simon was on the verandah. He
listened quietly to the new hand’s report, looked at the feather, and Len
said :

 
          
“Yu
got any ideas about it?’

 
          
I’m
guessin’ it ain’t ‘Paches, but they want us to think it is,’ Green replied.
“That feather is plumb clumsy—even a Reservation brave ain’t that careless. An’
what was the fire for? Injuns don’t carry runnin’-irons. ‘Sides, the hosses
they rode was shod, even the grass trail showed that.’

 
          
“Yu
didn’t follow the tracks?’

 
          
“No,’
explained Green. “Durran didn’t seem interested, an’ I had no orders.’

 
          
The
old man regarded him steadily for a while, and then said, ‘Yo’re gettin’ ‘em
now. I want this rustler business cleaned up. That’s yore job.’

 
          
“Better
not advertise it,’ suggested Green.

 
          
“I
ain’t a-goin to; I’ll explain to Blaynes that yo’re on special work for me,’
said the rancher.

 
          
Green
had his own ideas as to the importance Blaynes would attach to his employer’s
explanation, and he was soon to learn that he was right, for at that moment the
foreman came up. There was a note of triumph in his tone as he said:

 
          
“Well,
Simon, Durran tells me that he
come
upon some more
rustler work, with shore Injun sign; I reckon that settles it.’

 
          
“Green’s
just been tellin’ me he
come
on it,’ said Old Simon
quietly.

 
          
“Well,
they was together anyway,’ replied Rattler, with a surly glance at the new
hand. “Durran reported to me as foreman, which was the proper thing to do.’

 
          
“Green
agrees with me that it ain’t Injuns,’ said the ranch-owner, “an’ I think he’s
right.’