Read Oliver Strange - Sudden Westerns 01 - The Range Robbers(1930) Online
Authors: Oliver Strange
“One
of ‘em’ll get careless an’ give us somethin’ to aim at presently,’ Green
argued. “Betche Stiffy will try an’ make that rock on his left; dead hosses is
poor cover.’
Evidently
the rustler was of the same opinion, for he suddenly rose into view and sprang
for the boulder in question. It was less than ten yards away and he had almost
reached it when Green fired; they saw him stumble and pitch forward.
“Missed
him,’ gibed Larry. Wish I’d pulled too.’
“Missed
nothin’,’ said the marksman. “I got him where I aimed to—in the left laig.’
“Huh,
if yo’re thinkin’ o’ startin’ a hospital round here I’d like to suggest that a
cemetery is less trouble an’ safer.’
“
Yu been
readin’ too many dime novels. Wonder if friend
Scaife will go to help friend Stiffy? What
d’yu think
?’
“Betche ten
level
he don’t,’ said Larry promptly.
“
Yo’re a reckless feller
with yore money,’ reproved Green.
“But I gotta take yu. Look, there he goes!’ He fired as he spoke, and the
landlord, with a hearty curse, crumpled up, and then rolled behind the rock
which sheltered the groaning Stuffy.
“Tough luck havin’ to down a feller when he’s earnin’ yu money, but
I had to do.
I got him in the right laig, so they’ve still got a sound
pair between ‘em.’
“Well,
of all the’ began the disgusted loser.
“Don’t
say it,’ admonished Green. “When yu get yore growth yu will know that even
things like Scaife can act pretty near human at times. What do yu reckon
they’ll do now?’
The
answer came from the attacking force in the shape of a perfect hurricane of
lead which tore up the ground and searched every nook and crevice of their
hiding-place.
“What
in ‘ell are they tryin’ to do—knock this blame rock out of the way?’ asked
Larry peevishly, as a fragment of stone grazed his cheek and the bullet which
had detached it went whining into the distance. “If these jiggers ain’t careful
somebody’s goin’ to get hurt.’
In
the face of this fusillade the two men kept close, hugging the ground behind
their barrier. The hail of shots was followed by a single bullet which dropped
just between the outstretched legs of the younger man, causing him to promptly
double them up and snuggle closer to the sheltering stone.
“They
musta got a balloon,’ he gasped.
Another
shot followed, cutting a neat half-circle out of the brim of Larry’s hat, which
was entirely too close no be pleasant. “Dann smart,’ murmured Green.
“Huh!
think
so, do yu?’ snorted Larry. “A little bit smarter
an’ yu’d be alone. This blame rock musta shrunk.’
“They
got the edge on us,’ Green explained. “While they bombarded us just now one of
‘em nipped across an’ climbed that big tree by the bend. He’s the feller who’s
doin’ the potshootin’. Take a peep an’ draw his fire; then I’ll get him.’
“Yu
go to blazes; I ain’t no Aunt Sally,’ retorted Larry. “That jigger shoots too
well an’ I ain’t gamblin’ with him—none whatever.’
For
some time silence reigned in the gorge, each side waiting for the other to make
a move. Then a jet of smoke spirted from higher up the tree and the missile
snatched Green’s hat from his head. Instantly he fired into the midst of the
thinning smoke, there was a disturbance of the foliage as a heavy body crashed
downwards, until, caught by a big lower branch, it hung, limply swinging.
“Crashed,’
said Larry laconically.
The
dispiriting effect of this loss on the enemy was soon apparent. From behind the
boulder which sheltered Scaife arose a rifle with a dirty white rag fluttering
from the
barrel,
and a voice shouted:
“Yu
fellers can go on; we won’t interfere nor foller.’
“Right
kind o’ yu, I’m shore,’ Green shouted back. “S’pose yu do the clearin’ out.
We’re quite comfortable
an
we won’t interfere nor
foller,’ he mimicked.
A
hearty curse was the only response to this pleasantry and then the landlord
who, whatever his other failings, was not deficient in pluck, hobbled into
view, using his gun to save his damaged leg. Stiffy followed, and having
removed their saddles and bridles from the dead horses they vanished round the
bend in the gorge. In less than ten minutes they reappeared beneath the big
tree, two of the horses carrying double burdens, the other two being required
for the corpse, which was soon dislodged and tied across the saddle. The
victors waited a while and then crept cautiously from the concealment. They
need not have worried; rounding a far curve they could see the discomfited
reward-hunters heading for Big Rock.
“An’
I reckon if they ain’t wiser they’re a heap sadder,’ commented the younger man.
“They’ve shore got a bellyful.’
“Which
reminds me we ain’t
eat
since the last time,’ Green
rejoined. “Why not rustle some grub an’ can the chatter for once in a while?’
“Chatter?
Me?’ yelled the indignant youth. “I’m numb as a
clam compared to yu. Why, yu make more noise for yore size than a tin pail full
o’ stones rollin’ down a mountain, yu—hurdy-gurdy.’
Which
criticism called for and received only one answer. After the dust had settled,
they arose and set about the proposed meal.
SOME
days later the Crossed Dumb-bell ranch had two visitors but only the foreman
was aware of it. Well after dark, Tarman and Poker Pete had ridden up and
leaving their horses tied in the brush, had slipped unseen into Jeffs’
quarters, where the big man related the happenings at Big Rock.
“Don’t
it beat all, the luck he has?’ commented Pete, with an oath. “We had him at the
Y Z an’ that fool-girl butts in, an’ now
them
Big Rock
idjuts have made a mess of it. I shore thought Scaife had sense.’
“It
ain’t luck, an’ it’s no good reckonin’ on luck when yu play against him,’
Tarman said. “Yu got to outguess him.
Any idea where he is,
Jeffs?’
The
foreman shook his head. “
We ain’t seen hide nor
hair
of him,’ he said. “But I’m bettin’ he’s not far off.’
“He’s
gotta be located; turn California loose an’ tell him to comb the country
between here an’ the Y Z. If he finds Green’s camp, he’s to show up casual
like, an’ make the play that yu were all expectin’ him back here, an’ that that
crack on the head was a bit o’ private spite on the part o’ Gorilla. Then, an’
this is the important bit, he’s to let on that it’s come out that Old Simon,
owner o’ the Y Z, has been usin’ a fancy name ever since he hit these parts an’
that his real name is Peterson. If that don’t fetch Mr. Green to the Y Z
pronto, I’m a bonehead, an’ yu can bet yore lasn nickel he’ll come painted for
war. He’s been lookin’ for Peterson these three years.’
“Why
for?’ asked both the listeners at once.
“He
claims that Peterson did the dirty on the feller who befriended him. Funny he
should have gone to work for the very man he
come
here
to kill.’
“But
if he’s sweet on the girl, an’ I reckon he is, he won’t wipe out her dad,’
objected Poker.
“There’s
a reason why that sentiment won’t work,’ grinned Tarman, who did not believe in
telling more than he must. “Anyways, if he comes to see the old man he’ll shoot
him, shore enough.’ He smiled as he saw understanding dawn on them. “Then we
nail him, some of us havin’ business at the Y Z about that time, an’ we’re shut
o’ the pair of ‘em.’
“An’
him havin’ killed her dear daddy, the girl won’t be anxious to turn him loose
again,’ Poker Pete said. “My word, I gotta hand it to yu, Joe; when it comes to
schemin’ yo’re there with the goods, but I figure yu may have trouble with
Blaynes over the skirt.’
Tarman
laughed harshly. “Yu mean he may have trouble with me, don’t yu?’ he said.
“Blaynes will get what’s comin’ to him.’
“What about the Frying Pan?’ asked the
foreman.
“Owner
seems a bin obstinate at present,’ replied the big man. “We’ll have to lower
the value of his property some yet, but there’s plenty o’ time for that; we’ll
put this other job over first. Yu prime
West
an’ don’t
tell him more than enough—he may have got friendly with Green.
He
added a few more general directions, and then he and the gambler slid silently
out, regained their horses, and took the back trail to Hatchett’s Folly.
When
Jeffs had hazarded the opinion that the outlaw was not far from the Crossed
Dumb-bell ranch-house, his guess was a good one, for Green and Larry were
within a couple of miles of him when he spoke. Since their return from Big Rock
they had haunted the locality in the hope of finding out what was being done
with the stolen cattle. At last their patience was rewarded, for four of the
rustlers, one of whom was Gorilla, rounded up a small herd one morning and
headed for the valley where Green himself had done some rebranding.
Surmising
their destination, Green and the Y Z puncher made a leisurely detour which took
them to the spot by a longer route. When they arrived, the work of changing
brands was almost completed. Securely hidden among the brush which clothed the
sides of the valley, they waited for the next move. This was not long in
coming, for as soon as the last bellowing steer had rushed from the little
corral in which the branding was done, the herd was collected again and driven
towards the end of the valley. Keeping well under cover the watchers followed.
Passing
through a break in the wall of the valley, the herd climbed a long slope to a
big, tree-covered plateau. Here the trailers, having had further to go, lost
sight of it, but evidence of its passage was plain enough, and indeed, the
trail was a broad, well-trodden one, and had already been used on many
occasions. After winding in and out among the trees for some miles, it suddenly
took a sharp dip, and save for some scattered clumps of brush the foliage
ended.
“Jee-rusalem!’
ejaculated Green, reigning in, a proceeding Larry promptly followed. “What a
hide-out.’
The
dip, which after the start, was a long and gradual one, ended at a narrow
entrance to another valley, larger than any they had yet seen, for it appeared
to extend for several miles, and to be, in places, nearly a mile in width. The
floor was covered with rich grass and groups of willow and cottonwood indicated
the presence of water. Unlike the other valley, this one had no sloping sides,
being, so far as they could determine, enclosed by perpendicular walls of rock.
At the foot of the slope, they now saw the rustlers and their charge pass
through the great stones which formed a natural gateway, while
spread about the floor of the valley were
many other herds.
The two friends looked at each other, the same thought in both minds. It was
Larry who voiced it: “The blame country’s just made for rustlin’,’ he said.
“What are they keepin’ ‘em for—there must be over a thousand head there?’
“That’s
the gang’s part o’ the plunder, I reckon,’ Green replied. “When Tarman has got
hold o’ the Y Z an’ Frying Pan range he’ll buy back these herds, or his men’s
share of ‘em! It’s the ranches he wants, an’ he’s only stealin’ the cattle to
get the land cheap an’ pay his hands. He’s playin’ a big game, is Mr. Tarman,
an’ it’s a safe bet he’s double-crossin’ his own friends.’