Oliver Strange - Sudden Westerns 01 - The Range Robbers(1930) (5 page)

 
          
“So
do I,’ retorted Blaynes. “If I’d just been took on, an’ wanted to hold my job,
I’d agree with the boss every time.’

 
          
A
sneering smile accompanied the words. Green heard the taunt unmoved, his face
like granite. Old Simon laughed. “Have it yore way, Blaynes. Yu say
it’s
Injuns. All right, fetch in their scalps, an’ I’ll
believe yu. By the way, Green’ll be doin’ what I say for a bit. Savvy?’

 
          
The
foreman nodded, and the two men walked towards the bunkhouse. The foreman was
the first to break the silence. “Yu shore are in luck,’ he remarked acidly, “to
get a fine hoss an’ a soft job all in twenty-four hours.’

 
          
“Did
the Old Man tell yu it was a soft job?’ queried Green sweetly.

 
          
“That’s
what I’d call moseyin’ around pertendin’ to look for rustlers,’ retorted
Blaynes.

 
          
“So
would I,’ replied the other. “But there ain’t
no
rustlers, so it’ll be a hard job to find any. Yore way of it the Injuns are
stockin’ the Reservation with Y Z cows. Why don’t yu pay the agent a visit?’

 
          
Blaynes
made no reply to this pleasantry. Supper was nearly over when they entered the
bunkhouse, but with the foreman there, the harassed cook knew better than to
make any fuss over producing fresh supplies. Green soon learned that the news
of his treatment of Poker Pete had become known, and had been received
variously by the men. Some of the younger did not scruple to hide their hearty
approbation.

 
          
“On’y
hope yu ain’t scared ‘im off the reservation,’ was Dirty’s comment. “He owes me
money, that hombre.’

 
          
“
Don’t yu worry none
,’ said one of the older men, whose
semi-Indian origin and dark skin had earned for him the name of Nigger.’

      
 
“If Pete owed a feller anythin’, he gets it.’

 
          
The
speaker directed a malicious glance at Green as he said the words, but the new
hand appeared to be entirely occupied with his plate. Nevertheless, he had
heard, and sensed that the threat was intended for him.

 
          
“Aw, hell!
I reckon the old tinhorn will drift,’ said another
of the younger group, whose name being Simon, found
himself
promptly re-christened “Simple,’ to distinguish him from the Old Man.

 
          
The
wrangle went on, and it became more and more evident that the disgraced gambler
had friends in the outfit. Green refused to be drawn into the discussion. His
meal finished, he rolled a cigarette and slipped outside, after a glance at
Larry which was an invitation. Strolling down to the corral, he climbed the
rail, and sat there smoking. Presently Barton joined him.

 
          
“Well,
what do yu think o’ the bunch?’ he asked, when he had perched himself alongside
his friend.

 
          
“Yu
heard the story o’ the curate’s egg?’ asked Green.

 
          
“Shore,
yu’ve said it: good in parts,’ replied Larry, with a chuckle. “So yu’ve been
elecned to collect the rustlers’ ha’r, eh?’

      
 
“Who told yu?’ Green asked quickly.

 
          
“Oh,
Rattler ain’t makin’ any secret of it,’ was the reply. “I somehow got the idea
he don’t like yu.’

 
          
“I’ve
a dim suspicion myself thataway,’ returned the new hand easily; “but I don’t
guess I’ll lose any sleep over it.’

 
          
“Wish
the Old Man would let me trail along with yu,’ Larry said wistfully. “I know
the country, an’ yu don’t; I reckon I’d be useful.’

 
          
“Shore
yu would, an’ if I want any help I’ll ask for yu,’ Green said. “In the
meantime, keep yore eyes an’ ears open; it wouldn’t surprise me none if the
bunkhouse was a good place to look.’

 
          
On
the following morning Green saddled the roan and made his way to the spot where
he had found the dead cow, intending to take up the trail from there. To his
astonishment, he found that the carcass had disappeared, and the original
tracks were hopelessly blurred by a number of others leading in all directions.

 
          
“They
have certainly got quick news of my appointment,’ he muttered.

 
          
As
he sat there surveying the scene in puzzled cogitation, an arrow transfixed his
sombrero, snatching it from his head. Instantly he rode straight for the clump
of brush from which it seemed to come. He was too late; a crackling in the
undergrowth, a shrill whoop, and then the thud of galloping hoofs told him that
the hidden assassin had escaped. He returned for his hat and carefully examined
the missile.

 
          
“Apache,
all right, an’ a war-shaft at that,’ he commented. “But a brave on his first
scout wouldn’t have missed such an easy mark at that range. No, gents, I ain’t
right convinced o’ that redskin theory even now.’

 
          
Behind
the bush from which the arrow had come he found the grass trodden down and
several cigarette ends; the bushwhacker had clearly waited some time, and had
been careless too. The marks of his flight were apparent, and also told a
story.

 
          
“No,
sir, braves don’t wear boots in this neck o’ the woods,’ the cowboy
soliloquized.

 
          
Leading
his horse, he followed the trail for a few hundred yards; then it ceased, and
hoofprints told that the unknown had there mounted and continued his flight
over a stretch of hard, rocky ground, which showed no tell-tale tracks. For an
hour Green searched painstakingly, bun without success. Then he headed straight
across the baffling barrier in the direction of the frowning slopes of the Big
Chief Range.

 
          
Midday
found him traversing some of the wildest country he had ever seen, and he began
to realize the magnitude of the task before him. Deep, thickly-wooded valleys,
brush-tangled gullies, pine-covered rocky ridges succeeded one another in
bewildering confusion, and over all the sullen peaks of the Big Chief towered
in solemn majesty.

 
          
“It’s
a man’s job, all right,’ he said. “I reckon yu could lose an army here, an’ not
be too awful careless at that.’ He plodded on for another hour, and presently
emerged on the bank of a little stream beside which stood a rude log shack with
a sodded roof from which a trickle of smoke ascended. He had come upon the place
so unexpectedly that he could not hope to have escaped observation, so he
adopted a bold policy and rode up to the door.

 
          
“Hello,
the house!’ he called.

 
          
A
man instantly appeared in the doorway, rifle in hand. He was a tough-looking
customer, with black beady eyes which scanned the visitor with suspicious care.

 
          
“Howdy,’
he said, and waited.

 
          
“I’m
from the Y Z,’ Green said, knowing that the brand on his mount had told this
already.

 
          
“I
got eyes,’
came
the retort. “
New
hand, I s’pose.
Ain’t yu strayed off yore range quite a piece?’

 
          
“Oh,
I reckon I’m lost all right,’ laughed Green.

 
          
‘Light
an’ eat,’ said the other.

 
          
The
interior of the cabin was as primitive as the outside. A rude, home-made table,
two or three stools, and a pallet bed comprised the furniture. A pick, shovel
and a gold-digger’s pan stood in one corner.

 
          
“Washin’,
eh?’ Green asked, with a glance at the implements. “Gettin’ much?’

 
          
“Well,
it ain’t nothin’ to advertise,’ the man replied, “but it pays better’n punchin’
cows.’

 
          
“It
don’t
have to be a bonanza to do that,’ laughed the
cowboy. “Don’t see much company, I reckon.’

 
          
‘Yo’re
the first in two weeks,’ was the answer.

 
          
The
meal dispatched, the two men smoked in silence for a while. Then Green remarked
casually:

 
          
“Redskins
bother yu any?’

 
          
The
man’s eyes narrowed for a moment, and there was the barest hesitation before he
said, “Naw, I treat ‘em right an’ mind my own business. Don’t see much of ‘em:
two or three braves now an’ then—aimin’ to borry a few o’ yore steers, I guess;
but that’s yore lookout.’

 
          
“That’s
so,’ agreed Green, joining in the laugh that followed. “Means a job for chaps
like me, eh?’

 
          
“Shore;
puttin’ it thataway, the Injun’s some good, which I never did expect to think,’
grinned the other.

 
          
“Preachers
say everythin’ was made for a purpose, even rattlesnakes, but I’m blamed if I
can find any use for them,’ Green remarked, and then added casually, “I’m told
there’s another ranch up here somewhere, the Double X.’

 
          
A
look of alertness illumined the not-too-clean features of his host for a brief
moment, and then he said slowly: “I’ve heard of it, but I ain’t been there;
it’s way back in the hills, an’ I ain’t nohow interested in cattle at present.’

 
          
The
conversation languished, and after a while the visitor rose and said, “Well, I
got to be driftin’. Which way do I go for the Y Z?’

 
          
“Cross
the stream and head due south—there ain’t no depth o’ water just now. Less’n
half an hour yu’ll strike the trail to Hatchett’s.’

 
          
With
a word of thanks, Green mounted his animal and forded the creek. As he vanished
among the trees he looked round, saw the miner watching him, and waved his
hand.

 
          
“An’
that ain’t a good-bye, old-timer,’ he muttered. “Yu an’
me
is goin’ to meet again, or I miss my guess. That minin’ outfit was considerable
rusty for recent use, an’ I’m bettin’ high yu couldn’t produce an ounce o’ dust
nohow.’ He found the trail, and giving Blue the rein, headed for the ranch. It
proved a longish ride, and darkness was coming on when he unsaddled, turned the
horse into the corral, and made his way to the bunkhouse. The men were at
supper, and Green caught what he was looking for an expression of surprise on
the faces of the foreman, Durran, and several of the older men.

 
          
“Hello,
Green!’ greeted Larry. “Rattler was sayin’ yu was shore lost, or Blue had
“piled” yu, or

 
          
“I’d been snatched to glory by a blue-eyed angel with white wings,’
suggested the late-comer with a smile. “
Well, as a matter o’ fact, I did
get lost; this is shore a discouragin’ country for strangers.’

 
          
“
Them
as don’t mind their own business are liable to find it
so,’ put in Blaynes. “Get any rustlers?’

 
          
Green
laughed easily. “Nary one; those interestin’ animiles seem to be amazin’ shy in
these parts. I found a miner, though.’

 
          
A
look of quick suspicion came into the foreman’s eyes, and then he said
carelessly: “Old Nugget, I s’pose. He’s loco. Hope yu searched him to see if
he’d got any steers hidden in his clothes.’

 
          
The
men laughed gaily at the joke, and Green joined in; he did not want any open
breach with Blaynes. Later, he got a chance to question Larry about the
prospector.

 
          
“Oh,
he’s a harmless old piker,’ replied the cowboy, with a touch of contempt in his
tone. “Been pannin’ the streams around here for years, an’ if he gets “color”
now an’ then, he’s happy. Never seen him at the ranch; but he goes into town
for supplies. An’ now I come to think of it, I’ve seen him powwowin’ with Poker
Pete, but we’ve all done that.’ Green considered for a moment and, having
determined that Larry was to be trusted, told the story of the missing cow and
the ambush. The boy’s eyes widened as he listened.