Oliver Strange - Sudden Westerns 01 - The Range Robbers(1930) (13 page)

 
          
“It
looked a shore thing,’
remonstrated
the other. “Blamed
if I know how he got clear—must be a wizard.’

 
          
The
gambler made a gesture of disgust.
“Wizard nothin’.
O’
course somebody happened along an’ helped him; an’ he’s got the Iaugh on yu.’

 
          
“He
shore has, an’ a new rope into the bargain,’ agreed the puncher, with a grin
which aggravated his companion still further.

 
          
“Yu
don’t appear to be able to get it into yore head that this feller is
dangerous—dangerous, I tell yu,’ he rapped out.

 
          
“My
gracious, yu don’t say! Fancy me never suspectin that!’ was the ironical
retort.

 
          
“An’
yu had another chance, back there in the Folly,’ the gambler went on. “He
shoots yu up an’ turns his back on yu, an’ yu got yore gun. ‘Stead o’ beefin’
him, yu stand there like a blasted image.’

 
          
“Yu
seen that, did yu?’ inquired Snub.

 
          
“I
was told by them that did,’ replied Pete. “They said yu was scared cold.’

 
          
“They
was
right,’ Snub admitted. “I’m allus willin’ to take
a chance, but there warn’t
no
chance. If I’d pulled my
gun I wouldn’t be here a-talkin’ to you—not that I’d be missin’ much thataway.
I knew he’d get me, an’ I knew too that he wanted me to draw—he was playin’ for
it. I ain’t near tired o’ life yet, an’
I ain’t no cat
neither, with nine of ‘em to gamble with.’

 
          
“Shucks!
I never seen the gun-slinger yet that couldn’t be got,’ sneered Pete. “But o’
course if yo’re scared…’

 
          
“I
am,’ said Snub. “But that don’t go for everybody. If yu think yu can ride me…’

 
          
There
was an ugly look on his face, and his right hand was not far from his gun. The
man on the opposite side of the fire laughed crossly.

 
          
“I
ain’t tryin’ to ride yu, yu fool,’ he said. “We gotta work together, and this
feller is interferin’ an’ has gotta be suppressed.’

 
          
“Good
word that! Might mean anythin’,’ laughed the puncher. “Well, go to it, Pete. Yu
shore have
my best wishes. An’ if there’s any
particular spot yu’d like to be buried in, let me know, an’ I’ll tend to it. Yu
near got him once, didn’t yu?’

 
          
The
gambler swore luridly, and his fingers inched to pull the shoulder gun and
shoot down the man who jeered at him, but the lifelong habit of control
engendered by his profession enabled him to conceal his feelings.

 
          
“I
was unlucky,’ he said quietly. “The game ain’t played out yet.’

 
          
“Yu
better tell Spider—’ the puncher began.

 
          
“Shut
yore fool trap,’ fiercely interrupted the other, with an anxious glance round.
“Ain’t yu got more sense than to say names?’

 
          
“Well,
who’s to hear ‘em in this Gawd-forsaken spot?’ protested the puncher. “Yu don’t
reckon the cayuses’ll tell, do yu?’

 
          
The
gambler shrugged his shoulders. “
Seems
like I gotta
work with a passel o’ idiots,’ he said contemptuously. “Less I do everythin’
myself there’s nothin’ but mistakes. What lunatic wiped Bud out? No, don’t tell
me—I could see yu was just agoin’ to.’ He got up and walked to where his horse
was tied. “Tell the others whan I told yu, an’ for all our sakes, keep that gap
in your face closed,’ were his final words as he mounted and rode back to the
trail. His companion watched him vanish with a savage scowl.

 
          
“For
less than half o’ nothin’ I’d just naturally blow yu apart, yu old lizard,’ he
growled. “
Yu come mighty near bein’ buzzard meat once or
twice.’

 
          
Green
remained in his hiding-place until Snub had followed the gambler out of the
draw, chewing over what he had heard. That the rustling was the work of white
men was now beyond doubt, and at least some of the Double X gang
were
involved in it. He had nearly learned the name of the
slayer of Bud, but the gambler had been too quick. The name that had escaped
had been Spider. Green recalled Bent’s quotation in the bunkhouse when they
were joshing him, and Durran’s enormous appreciation of what was apparently a
not very notable witticism. Here was another little problem to solve.

 
          
“Things
is boilin’ up into a pretty mess,’ was the cowpuncher’s comment as he mounted
and rode out of the draw. Reaching the spot where the trail forked, he turned
and headed for the Y Z. An hour’s ride brought him within a few miles of his
destination, but no nearer to a solution of the tangle he was trying to
unravel. Presently, at a point where the road wound up over a rocky ridge, his
horse slanted its ears and whickered. Looking up, he saw a saddled pony, the
reins looped over the horn, contentedly cropping the grass along the trail
side. The animal was a pinto, and he recognised it as one frequently ridden by
Noreen. Securing the horse, he uttered a loud call, and a faint cry of “Help!’
came in response.

 
          
Leading
the pinto, he forced his way into the undergrowth in the direction he fancied
the cry had come from and shouted again. Once more the reply came, but very
feebly, and Green hurried. Soon he emerged on a little plateau covered with
grass, from the edge of which the ground dropped almost vertically into a
gully. At one spot the plateau was broken off sharply, as though a miniature
landslide had occurred. Looking down, he saw the girl, clinging desperately to
a stunted shrub about thirty feet below him. A narrow ledge gave her a little
support, but it was obvious that she was exhausted and could not maintain her
position much longer.”Hang on; I’m a-comin’,’ he shouted.

 
          
She
had not the strength to reply, but a movement of the head told him that she had
heard. Rapidly he uncoiled his rope, and thanking his stars that he was not
riding Blue, who was still an uncertain quantity, fastened one end of it to the
saddlehorn. The loop he slipped under his armpits, with a grim smile at the
thought that this time he was hanging himself over the cliff. At the first pull
on the rope the sturdy little cowpony stiffened and prepared to take the
weight; it knew what was wanted and could be trusted to do its part. Choosing a
point not directly over the girl, in order to avoid sending any loose debris he
might dislodge down upon her, Green gripped the rope and began the descent. As
soon as he was low enough, he clawed his way to the little ledge on which she
was partly lying. Standing on this precarious footing, he contrived to stoop
and lift the almost senseless girl with his right arm.

 
          
“Lock
yore hands round my neck an’ hold on tight,’ he said, brusquely. “The hoss’ll
pull us up.’

 
          
He
gave a familiar call and braced himself for the strain. The rope tightened with
a jerk, they swung loose from the ledge, and were being gradually raised as the
knowing little pony paced slowly back. With his left arm and his legs the
puncher did his best to avoid the inequalities and projections of the earth
wall up which they were being drawn, but both of them were bruised and
breathless when at length they were dragged over the rim of the plateau. The
girl, indeed, was still well-nigh unconscious. Flinging off the rope, Green
staggered to his feet and fetched his canteen. The waner soon revived her.

 
          
“Where
am I?’ she asked weakly, and then, with a shiver, “Oh, I remember! I sat down
and the ground gave way under me. I seemed to fall miles. How did you find me?’

 
          
“I
met up with yore pony. Plumb lucky yu forgot to trail the reins, or he wouldn’t
‘a’ drifted,’ Green replied. “Do yu reckon yu can stand up?’

 
          
The
girl flushed at the realisation that she was reclining against his knee, and
that he had been the first to think of it. “I am all right now,’ she said
hastily, and stood up. “How did you get me up the cliff?’

 
          
“The
little hors just naturally hauled the pair of us up; nothin’ to that,’ the
puncher said nonchalantly. “We seem to have collected some real estate on the
trip, though.’

 
          
He
helped her brush the dust from her clothes and brought her pony. His
matter-of-fact treatment of the incident and evident desire not to prolong it
were in keeping with his invariable attitude towards her, and aroused an
indefinite feeling of resentment; it savoured of indifference, and she was not
accustomed to that form of treatment from the opposite sex. Any of the other
boys… She put the ungrateful thought from her and turned to him impulsively.

 
          
“I
have to thank you again for coming to my rescue,’ she said. “You will begin to
look upon me as a nuisance.’

 
          
His
right spur went home, and the pony promptly resented it by standing on its hind
legs. By the time the rider had subdued this ebullition, he had his reply
ready.

 
          
“Why,
I reckon I’m plain lucky, that’s all,’ he said gravely.

 
          
“I
should have it that the luck is on my side,’ she replied. “But for you I should
now be—’ She shook her head no banish the ugly picture, and added, “Yes I am
going to ask you to do something more.’

 
          
“I’ll
be pleased,’ he said simply.

 
          
“It
is only that I want you to say nothing of this—this accident—to my father. My
motive is not entirely selfish, though I am afraid he would stop my rides, and
I love them, but he worries about me quite enough as it is, and just now he has
much to trouble him.’

 
          
“I
wasn’t intendin” He stopped suddenly. Confound
it,
did
she think he would go glory-hunting to his employer? This aspect of her request
had just occurred to the girl.

 
          
“You
see, he has only me,’ she said lamely.

 
          
“Yu
won’t remember yore mother, I expect,’ Green said, deliberately changing the
subject.

 
          
“No,
I might almost say I never had one,’ she replied. “I think even the memory of a
monher must be much for a girl.’

 
          
The
puncher nodded his head. “But yu got yore dad,’ he resumed. “Parents shore mean
a lot, an’ I guess a kid that starts life without any is some handicapped.’

 
 
        
Something in his voice told her he was
speaking of himself. “It must make a difference,’ she agreed. “I’m sorry if
you—’

  
 
    
“Yes,’ he said reminiscently. “All the
parents I can remember was an old Piute squaw an’ her man, who used to travel
the country sellin’ hosses. I was raised among Injuns. The old woman told me I
was white, but she never explained how I come to be with ‘em. They stole me,
likely. Then a cattleman they sold some ponies to saw me an’ made a dicker with
‘em; took me to his ranch and treated me like a son. He was shore a regular
man. Yu see
,
he was all alone too.’

 
          
“And
he is—dead?’

 
          
“Yes.
He passed out ‘bout three years
back,
an’ I lost my
only friend.’

 
          
She
was silent for a few moments, and he guessed what was in her mind. “Yu are
wonderin’ why I’m workin’ as a cowhand when I oughtta be
ownin’
a ranch. It’s easy explained. When my friend died he was a broken-hearted an’
ruined man: his wife had a fatal illness a few years after they married, their
onlychild was kidnapped by an enemy before he met up with me, an’ another
scoundrel robbed him of well-nigh everythin’. All he had to leave me was his
debt to these two men, an’ I’m meanin’ to pay it—when I find ‘em; not for
anythin’ I lost, but for what they made him suffer.’

 
          
The
girl shivered. The threat to the unknown offenders had been quietly spoken, but
she sensed the implacable resolve underlying the words. This grim-faced man
meant what he said; he would show the patience and tenaciny of a vengeful
Indian on the trail of a foe, and little, if any, more mercy.