Oliver Strange - Sudden Westerns 01 - The Range Robbers(1930) (8 page)

 
          
For
a moment there was tense silence. Blaynes, challenged in his turn, was
obviously undecided. His right hand moved a fraction towards his holster, and
then—he rasped out a laugh.

 
          
“Yu
shore are a touchy feller, Green—can’t stand a bit o’ joshin’,’ he said. “
Roundin’ up rustlers ‘pears to have got yu all jumpy.’

 
          
Green
laughed too, and it was an unpleasant one for the foreman to swallow, but the
conversation became general again, and the incident ended. Later on, Blaynes
had a word with Lunt.

 
          
“Never
knew yu to duck before,
Snap
,’ he said. “What got into
yu?’

 
          
“Duck
nothin’,’
came
the retort. “I ain’t got
no
quarrel with the feller. Why didn’t yu pull on him?’

 
          
“I’m
foreman, an’ I got my reasons,’ Blaynes said sulkily. “Huh! Self-preservation
don’t
happen to be one o’ them, does it?’ asked the other
sarcastically.

 
          
The
foreman ground out an oath. “I wait my time,’ he said. “Sorry to find I can’t
depend on yu, that’s all.’

 
          
“Yu
can depend on me to do my work, but dry-nursin’ yu ain’t part of it,’ the
little gunman said bluntly, and walked away.

 
          
As
he approached the bunkhouse, he met Green and Larry coming away, and stopped
for a moment to say, “Green, however slick a man may be with a gun, he can be
got—from behind.’

 
          
“Now
what the blazes does he mean by that?’ asked Larry, as the gunman, without
waiting for a reply, went into the bunkhouse.

 
          
“He
means a whole lot, I reckon,’ answered his friend. “I fancy that’s not such a
bad hombre, Larry.’

 
          
“Well,
he told Rattler straight out in meetin’, anyways,’ Larry said. “It’s a point to
remember.’

 
          
“Shore
is. Yu got anythin’ to tell me?’

 
          
“Not
a durn thing,’ was the disgusted rejoinder. “On’y that yu can count on Dirty,
Ginger, an’ Simple to back my play, whatever it is.’

 
          
“Well,
that’s somethin’, anyhow. Trouble is, we ain’t got
no
play to make yet. How long ago was the Double X started?’

      
 
“Two-three years, I guess. Dex ain’t got much
of a herd.’

      
 
“What’s the size of his outfit?’

 
          
“Seven or eight, including the cook.’

 
          
“All
of them men to handle a small herd, huh?’

 
          
“Well,
now yu mention it, they shore didn’t oughtta be overworked—never struck me that
way before. Yu got anythin’ else against ‘em?’

 
          
Green
shook his head. “We gotta wait, boy,’ he said. “How’s the Pretty Lady been
treatin’ yu lately?’

 
          
This
was his name for Noreen, and it never failed to produce an embarrassed flush on
the face of her young admirer. Larry countered quickly.

 
          
“I’m
beginnin’ to think she’s more interested in a handsome mysterious stranger,’ he
retorted. “She was shore askin’ me a lot o’ questions.’

 
          
“An’
yu told her?’

 
          
“All
I knew.’

 
          
His
friend grinned. “That musta taken yu quite a while,’ he commented, with gentle
sarcasm.

 
          
“Shore
did,’.
said
Larry. “I explained how yore wife had left
yu, takin’ the kids, owin’ to yu treatin’ her so badly, drinkin’ an’ hellin’
round generally, an’ that two sheriffs were anxious to meet yu on account of a
bank robbery, to say nothin’ of the feller whose brother yu shot from behind—
Hi !
leggo
my ear, yu two-gun mockery : it’s long
enough as it is.’

 
          
“It
certainly is, an’ the other’s a match for it,’ agreed the libelled one. “Get
down on yore hunkers in the long grass an’ no one could tell yu from a
jack-rabbit. Yu’d be a lovely liar, Larry —on’y yu ain’t always lovely.’

 
          
Larry
caressed the injured member, feeling to discover if it really had started to
come out by the roots.

 
          
“I
wish I’d told her yu were a cannibal an’ a hoss-thief,’ he said regretfully.
‘When’re yu goin’ to come alive an’ catch the rustlers, huh?’

 
          
“Well,
I got ‘em scared, ain’t I?’ expostulated Green. “
They ain’t
done nothin’ for a week.’

 
          
Early
on the following morning the inmates of the bunkhouse were aroused by a shout,
and tumbling out half-dressed, they saw Durran drop wearily from a staggering
pony. He had come in from the furthermost of the cabins used by the line-riders
on the frontiers of the ranch. Rattler pushed to the front.

 
          
“What’s
up, Durran?’ he asked.

 
          
“Rustlers,
an’ hell to pay,’
was
the gasped answer. “Few hours
after dark las’ night, ‘bout seven or eight of ‘em rushed me an’ Bud, firm’ as
they come. They got Bud, shot my hoss, an’ helped theirselves. Think. I
perforated one, but I was afoot. Took me near an hour to catch Bud’s pony, an’
I been ridin’ since.’

 
          
“Couldn’t
see who they were, I s’pose,’ said the foreman.

 
          
“Blasted
war-paints, every mother’s son,’ replied Durran emphatically, and Blaynes
turned a triumphant eye on Green. A chorus of forceful curses greeted the news.

 
          
No
more time was wasted. Breakfast was despatched in gulps, and in less than half
an hour a dozen men, well-mounted and armed, were galloping at breakneck speed
for the scene of the outrage. Green and Larry were of the number, and
remembering the conversation of the previous night, the boy could not resist
the opportunity.

 
          
“Yeah,
yu got ‘em scared, shore enough,’ he murmured.

 
          
“Shut
yore face, yu—yu jackass!’ admonished his friend. “I’ve been expectin’ this.
Would yu have said that Bud and the foreman
was
bosom
pals, so to speak?’

 
          
Barton
shook his head. “No, nothin’
like
that, though I don’t
know of any trouble between ‘em. Ginger was Bud’s bunkie; look at him.’

 
          
The
redheaded puncher was riding only a few yards from them, his young tanned face
like stone,
his
jaws clamped and his eyes blazing.
Suddenly he
spoke :

 
          
“By God!
if
they’ve rubbed out Bud,
I’ll have a scalp for every one of his fingers if I have to go to the
Reservation to get ‘em.’

 
          
The
savage threat of vengeance was shouted, as though the speaker had to give vent
to his pent-up emotion. Several of the younger men gave grunts of approval, but
only the foreman spoke, after a curious look at Ginger which Green did not fail
to notice.

 
          
“Aw,
save yore breath, Ginger,’ Blaynes said. “Yu’ll want it all before we’re
through; mebbe he ain’t plugged bad.’

 
          
The
wild burst of speed with which the party had started now slackened, and the
riders pulled their mounts down to a steady lope which ate up the miles without
unduly tiring the animals. The trail wound about, avoiding the rough country,
and keeping to the open prairie where the going was good. Now and then they
passed herds of feeding cattle. This was a part of the range Green had not yet
explored. It was, he noticed, much nearer to the Big Chief
mountains
,
and the grazing land was shut in by country of the wildest nature.

 
          
“When
the cattle first began to vanish, Old Simon reckoned they just naturally
strayed an’ lost themselves,’ Larry said. “So they built the cabins, and
started line-ridin’, but it ain’t stopped the leak.’

 
          
Green
was watching Durran, who, despite his exhaustion, had insisted on accompanying
the party. He was now riding beside the foreman, and the pair
were
deep in conversation. Green frankly confessed
himself
puzzled. If these men were acting a part, they were
doing it well. The unexpected incident was the slaying of Bud, for he felt sure
that the puncher was dead. Utterly unnecessary, he could not believe that it
was originally intended. Was it an accident, or did it become necessary? For
the remainder of the long ride his companion got little out of
him,
and after one or two attempts at conversation, the boy
gave up and rode in silence until they sighted their destination.

 
          
There’s
the cabin!’ Larry cried.

 
          
It
was small, but strongly-built of untrimmed logs chinked with clay, and looked
peaceful enough in the bright sunshine. But tragedy was there. It was Ginger
who, spurring ahead, first saw the body of his friend. Flinging himself from
his horse, he snatched off his hat and stood looking down at the form
outstretched on the grass but a bare fifty yards from the hut. One glance told
him the worst.

 
          
One
by one the men dismounted and bareheaded, grouped themselves around their
fallen comrade. The foreman knelt to examine the body. A bullet had grazed the
temple, and there was an ominous stain high in the chest. Rattler, who had not
touched the dead man, stood up.

 
          
“He’s
cashed,’ he said. “They got him twice. Two of yu carry him to the cabin; we’ll
send the wagon when we get back. Scatter now an’ pick up the trail.’

 
          
Green
interposed.
“One minit, boys.’
He stooped and gently
opened the dead man’s shirt at the neck, disclosing a gaping wound just below
the collar-bone. “
That crease on the head ain’t nothin’,
though it likely fetched him off his hoss,’
he continued. “This is what
killed him, an’ that’s knife-work.’

 
          
He
picked up Bud’s revolver, which was lying near the body, No shots had been
fired from it. The spot showed signs of a
struggle :
the grass was trampled, and there were deep marks of the cowboy’s high heels,
as though he had made desperate efforts to stand on his feet.

 
          
“What’s
it matter how it happened, anyway?’ said the foreman contemptuously. “He’s
passed out, an’ we gotta get on the track o’ them that did it.’

 
          
Green
did not reply, but remained looking at the spot after the poor clay had been
taken to the hut and the others were searching for the raiders’ trail. Suddenly
a bright glint in the grass caught his eye; he stooped and slipped something
into a pocket.

 
          
He
walked over to the cabin. It consisted of one room only, furnished with two
bunks, a table, a couple of chairs, and a stove. On a shelf were supplies of
ammunition, tobacco, and food. These appeared to be untouched. The body had
been deposited in one of the bunks, and Ginger was covering it with a blanket.
His grief-stricken face was grim and
hard :
death he
had seen before, but this time the fell Monarch had touched him nearly. Green
put a hand on his shoulder.

 
          
“Ginger,’
he said, “
don’t
be in too big a hurry to start for the
Reservation.’

 
          
The
cowboy whirled, his narrowed, filmed eyes boring into the other. “Green,’ he
said hoarsely, “if you know anythin’—’

 
          
“I
don’t, but I got an idea,’ was the quiet reply. “When I find out, I’ll turn him
over to yu, whoever he may be. That’s a promise.’