Nevada (1995) (40 page)

"How do you know Ide's stock air runnin' on Silver Meadows? Thet'
s
Day's range."

"I know because I saw them an' they used to be my cattle."

"You're calculatin' thet if Ide does rare, he'll lay it onto th
e
Pine Tree outfit?"

"Exactly. The deal is ready-made for us."

"How much stock thar now?"

"We can bunch three or four thousand head in half a day, an' lan
d
them over the Rim in less'n two days."

"An' you've got a buyer?"

"Waitin' an' willin'. He's drivin' ten thousand head to Maricopa.

How easy to run in a few more thousand!"

"Looks too powerful easy to me," returned Hatt, as if sagging unde
r
an overpowering weight.

"Easy an' safe. An' listen, Elam. . . . Twenty dollars a head.

In gold! One yellow old double-eagle for every steer!"

Elam Hatt paced the rough-hewn logs that constituted the floor o
f
his cabin. He seemed to find strength in their solidity. His leg
s
were the first part of him to weaken. His collapse came suddenly
,
with a crash to the bench before the fire.

"Cedar, what'd'ye say?" he asked, in a hoarse low voice.

"Burridge, swear them steers air in Silver Meadows," said Ceda
r
Hatt, his moccasined feet coming down with padded thuds as h
e
leaped up and leaned out of the shadow.

"Sure I swear. Three days ago. An' the grass an' water are fine.

They'll work higher for several more days. . . . Ask Jim Lac
y
here. Reckon you'll not be intimatin' he's a liar."

"Talk up, Jim Lacy, if you're a rustler," called the younger Hatt.

"Wal, I was with Burridge. I saw the cattle," replied Lacy.

Cedar Hatt glided into the light of the fire, to lean over hi
s
father and strike out with lean dark hand, like the claw of a
n
eagle.

"Papa, with ten riders I can run them cattle over the Rim in on
e
day," he declared. How grotesque and striking the epithet he gav
e
his father! He seemed the epitome of lawlessness, of the hardene
d
rustler, yet acknowledged the endearing claim of blood.

"Thet settles it, then," returned Elam Hatt, throwing up his hand
s
as one whose price had been met.

"Hold on! Thar ain't no Greaser herder in these brakes who'd lea
d
thet drive. An' I'm the only white man who kin."

"Wal, what's makin' you yap so? It's settled, ain't it, 'cept th
e
workin' out?"

"I want my pard, Burt Stillwell, in on this."

"Reckon I see no kick to thet. But it ain't my deal."

Cedar Hatt faced round with the swift, sinister action peculiar t
o
him.

"Anythin' ag'in' Stillwell?" he queried.

"Wal, not any more, Hatt," drawled Jim. "I shore had a littl
e
grudge, but it's gone. When I saw Burt last, I shore had
a
friendly feelin' for him."

"Burridge, you had no use for the Stillwells. How're you standin'
o
n this hyar deal I want?"

"Cedar, all I say is, sure--ring your pard Burt in--if you can ge
t
him," returned Burridge, with something unnatural in his tone. An
d
it was noticeable that he stepped more into the shadow.

"Papa," hissed Cedar Hatt, and that word inspired awe as well a
s
mirth, "I'm double-crossin' the Pine Tree outfit to make us al
l
rich on this big job."

"Air you drunk, son?" asked Hatt, slowly rising to his feet.

"How'n tarnation can you double-cross them--onless you mean beatin'
t
hem to the deal?"

"Me an' Burt belong to the Pine Tree outfit."

Chapter
seventeen.

A week later to the day, about the middle of the afternoon, Ji
m
Lacy stood with Cash Burridge on the Mogollon Rim, facing sout
h
over the magnificent wilderness of southern Arizona. The blac
k
timber of the basin merged in the grassy parks and flats, growin
g
hazy in the distance, and all that wild lowland led to the blea
k
colored desert ranges.

"My Gord! listen to that!" ejaculated Burridge, with red sweat
y
face wrinkled ecstatically. "Grandest music on earth."

"Cash, they'll greet you in Hades some day with that music,"
d
rawled Jim.

"Bawlin' bulls an' whoopin' cowboys! I'll be glad to hear it
,
providin' it don't come too soon," returned Burridge.

Yellow dust palls hung over the steep Maricopa trail, where i
t
jumped zigzag off the Rim and wound down into the green depths. A
m
ighty roar of trampling hoofs, and bellowing cattle, and crashin
g
brush, and whooping riders waved up from that hot slope. It seeme
d
an avalanche of sound now softening and again swelling, wild an
d
free, harmonious with the country which made it possible. From th
e
look of the trail, trampled and dug and widened by thousands o
f
hoofs, it appeared that a river of live beasts had poured over th
e
Rim.

"Lacy, it's all over but the fireworks," said Cash exultantly.

"QuiTn sabe? It might fetch some fireworks you're not figurin'
o
n," admonished his companion, moving over from his heaving, foam-
l
ashed horse to get in the shade of a pine.

"Not much. We're shakin' the dust of the brakes. Say, won't Be
n
Ide an' Tom Day bite nails? Biggest drive I ever had a hand in.

An' all so easy! All like clockwork! All in a couple of day
s
despite that--yellow traitor, Cedar Hatt!"

"Shore we didn't need him," responded Lacy, thoughtfully.

"Jim, I've seen some mad hombres in my time, but that Cedar Hat
t
beats them all to hell," declared Burridge, aghast at the memory.

"Shore he was mad. Didn't I warn you to keep your outfit fro
m
givin' it away aboot Stillwell?"

"Yes, you did, an' I talked myself hoarse. But it couldn't b
e
kept. They HATED Cedar, an' the minute somebody got two drink
s
aboard he up an' blows that Burt Stillwell was dead. It sure mad
e
a hydrophobia-coyote out of Cedar. But he didn't know WHO sho
t
Burt. When he spit questions at you, like a snake with a hunch
,
why didn't you lie?"

"Wal, Cash, I reckon you don't savvy me."

"Why didn't you kill him, then?" went on Burridge, sharper o
f
tongue.

"I just aboot did," returned Lacy, reflectively. "But I saw h
e
didn't have the nerve to draw--so I waited."

"Ahuh! Waited? I get your hunch. Cedar knows somethin' you'r
e
keen to find out. Bet it's that Pine Tree outfit."

"Cash, you're figurin' fair. But on the daid square now--
r
ememberin' the favors I've done you--cain't you tell me somethin'
a
bout that outfit?"

"No more'n we all know, Jim."

"Shore you have some suspicion aboot who leads them?"

"Honest to Gawd, Lacy, I haven't even an idee!" returned Burridge
,
with truth in look and voice. "It might be Judge Franklidg
e
himself."

"Holy Moses! Cash, that's a wild guess!" ejaculated Lacy.

"Sure. An' it's only a guess. But you can gamble all the coi
n
you're goin' to get pronto that the Pine Tree boss is not hidin' i
n
the brakes, like the rest of us rustlers. He's an honest member o
f
range society. Ha! Ha! Yes he is! . . . Jim, there might be
a
combine of homesteaders an' ranchers in cahoots with an outfit o
f
great riders like Burt Stillwell an' Cedar Hatt."

"Reckon I've thought of that."

"What's it to you, anyway, Jim?" queried Burridge, curiously.

"Reckon I've got to put my brand on the boss of the Pine Trees,"
s
aid Lacy.

"Ah! Is THAT all? Hell! I thought you might have some interes
t
in him," retorted Cash sarcastically. "Jim, on the square, if yo
u
hadn't done so much to straighten me out again, I'd have suspicion
s
about you."

"Wal, keep them in your haid."

Burridge laughed, and gathering up his bridle swung into th
e
saddle.

"Come on. I don't want the outfit to get far ahead. You'll b
e
hearin' the clink of gold before sundown."

"Not me, Cash."

"What?"

"I'm not goin' any farther with you."

The rustler exhibited profound concern and amaze.

"You're not goin' any farther--what--?"

"Say, Cash, are you out of your haid?" queried Jim, testily.

"Sure I am, if you're not."

"Wal, I'm not, old-timer."

Burridge studied his companion for a long moment, his face working.

Regret began to erase the incredulity.

"What the hell are you goin' to do?"

"That's my concern now. I'm through."

"Through! . . . But, Jim--"

"Didn't I help you out of a bad hole--the worst you was ever in?"

"You sure did, Jim. An' I--"

"Didn't I rustle cattle with you?"

"Yes."

"Didn't I come out in the open--so everybody on this range wil
l
know I helped steal Ben Ide's cattle?"

"By Heaven! you did!" declared Burridge, with redder face. "An' I
h
old that against you, Jim. I just can't figure why you did that.

We could sure have laid that onto the Pine Tree outfit."

"Wal, neither Ben Ide nor any other honest rancher will know YOU
h
ad the high hand in this big cattle steal. But my name an' m
y
hand in it will be known. I saw to that. They'll think _I_ am th
e
boss of the Pine Tree outfit."

"I'm damned! . . . Jim Lacy, you're too deep for me. But I'
m
gettin' a hunch. . . . How about your share in the divvy for thi
s
deal?"

"You're welcome to it. Take it an' go out of this country. Tr
y
bein' honest again. You might succeed next time. But don't eve
r
come back heah!"

"Why not, Jim?" queried Burridge, strong and hard.

"Because if you do I'll kill you," flashed Lacy, in a voice tha
t
cut like a whip.

The ruddy heat left Burridge's face, and he began to nod his head
,
slowly, with increasing motion, while his eyes fixed in a startlin
g
comprehension.

"JIM--LACY!" he said, huskily.

"I reckon," replied Lacy, grimly, as he turned to his horse.

"You been a pard to me, whatever your reasons," went on Burridge
,
with feeling. "I don't care a damn what they were. . . . I'l
l
leave this country. Here's my hand on it. . . . Good-by an' goo
d
luck!"

"Same to you, Cash," replied Jim, as they gripped hands.

Burridge wheeled his horse so violently that it reared and plunged
,
and then slid to its haunches in the soft ground where the trai
l
broke over the Rim. Burridge hauled it up and used his spurs. Th
e
animal snorted and took the first descent on a jump, then steadie
d
to a quick walk. At the first bend of the trail into the timbe
r
the rustler looked back up to the Rim.