Oliver Strange - Sudden Westerns 01 - The Range Robbers(1930) (14 page)

 
          
“They
may be dead by now,’ she ventured.

 
          
“So
much the better—for them,’ Green replied; “but I’m bettin’ they’re still above
ground. This is a big country, an’ I’ve only been searchin’ three years.’

 
          
Silence
again fell on them, for the girl was awed by the intensity of a hatred which
could keep a man on such a quest for so long a time. Then the puncher spoke
again and his tone was apologetic.

 
          
“I’m
shore sorry, Miss Noreen. I don’t know what come over me pesterin’ yu with my
dreadful past in this fashion. Yu must think I’m loco.’

 
          
“No,
I’ve been very interested—and sorry,’ the girl protested. “I hope you won’t
find those men.’

 
          
“Yo’re
condemnin’ me to a solitary life,’ returned he, with a smile, and again she
realised the granite hardness beneath the smooth voice. “We are near the ranch
now; yu had better go ahead.’

 
          
She
put out her hand, thanked him again, and rode on. Neither of them noticed a
dark face, with sneering, vengeful eyes, watching them from a near-by thicket.
Green waited a while and then rode slowly to the ranch.

 
          
When
Simon came in shortly after his daughter’s return she saw at once that
something was wrong. The old man’s face wore a look of annoyance, and his voice
was almost harsh when he
said :

 
          
“Hear
yu been ridin’ with Green.’

 
          
“Who
told you that?’ asked the girl.

 
          
“That
ain’t nothin’ to do with it,’ replied her father. “I’m askin’ yu.’

 
          
“I
went out for a ride, and on my way home I met Green, and he accompanied me part
of the way,’ said Noreen. “Do you object to me speaking to our boys if I meet
them?’

 
          
“No
o’ course not; yo’re getnin’ me all wrong,’ said Simon uncomfortably. “But this
feller is new, an’, as Blaynes sez to me just now, he ain’t told us nothin’
about himeslf.’

 
          
“So
in was Blaynes who gave you this interesting information, was it?’ she asked
indignantly.

 
          
“Now
don’t yu go sourin’ on
him.
He’s foreman, an’ it’s his
duty to report to me anythin’ he thinks I oughta know.’

 
          
“He’s
not foreman over me, and I won’t have him spying on my actions, the miserable
sneak!’ retorted the girl spiritedly. “Green at least behaves like a gentleman,
and as for knowing nothing about him, he told me quite a lot.’

 
          
She
proceeded to repeat what she knew of the new man’s past, and was astonished to
see her father’s face darken and to hear a muttered oath.

 
          
“Why,
Daddy, what’s the matter?’ she asked.

 
          
He
dropped into a chair before replying. “Twinge o’ rheumatism—gets me every now
an’ then. Reckon I’m growin’ old, girl.
Now about this chap,
Green.
Dessay he’s all right, an’ there’s no harm in passin’ the time o’
day if yu meet, but I don’t want yu to be too familiar with any o’ the boys,
see? Sooner or later yu will own this ranch an’ have to boss ‘em.’

 
          
“I
do that now,’ she retorted saucily.

 
          
“Well,
I guess yu do, an’ the old man as well,’ he agreed. “Sorry if I seemed riled,
girlie, but things is worryin’ just now. Yu won’t hold it agin me, will yu?’

 
          
Noreen
kissed him tenderly. “Of course I won’t, you dear old silly,’ she said, and in
her mind she added, “
But
that doesn’t apply to your
case, Mr. Rattler Blaynes.’

 
          
Old
Nugget was receiving company. Seated round the rude table in his shack were
half a dozen men, in addition to himself, smoking, drinking, and conversing in
lowered voices. Poker Pete, his small porcine eyes covertly watching everyone,
dominated the talk. He and Dexter, from the Double X, appeared to have some
authority over the rest.

 
          
“We
gotta ease up on yore ranch, Rattler, till this damned feller Green is put out
o’ business,’ Pete stated. “We can’t afford to take no more risks. Better give
the Frying Pan a whirl; they got some good stock there.’

 
          
“They
shore has—I was lookin’ some of it over the other day,’ laughed Dexter, and
then, as he caught a sharp look from the gambler, he added, “No, they didn’t
see me—don’t yu worry, old-timer.’

 
          
“We
can fetch ‘em across the “Wise-head” range—streuth! Old Simon struck a bum
brand when he hit on that—an’ through the Parlour as usual,’ remarked a tall
abnormally thin puncher, who was known at the Double X as “Post’ Adams.
“Leeming will think Simon’s bin helpin’ hisself,’ said one of the others.

 
          
There
was a general laugh at
this,
and in the midst of it
the door opened and another man stepped in. It was Snap Lunt. “Lo Snap. Find
yoreself a seat,’ greeted Pete.

 
          
“I
ain’t stayin’ long,’ replied the gunman, and for a moment there was a tense
silence; all present realised that this latest arrival had not come in
friendship. “I’m here just to serve notice that I’m through with this game,’
Snap finished.

 
          
Standing
there, his hands hanging down, he watched the effect of his announcement. He
knew perfectly well that his life hung on a thread, and that only his known
reputation kept him from being instantly shot to pieces. Also, he had planned
well in coming late, for with his back to the half-open door he had a line of
retreat, and all of the others were in front of him.

 
          
“Bit
of a tardy repentance, Snap, ain’t it?’ Poker Pete said coldly.

 
          
“Mebbe,’
said the other. “I ain’t claimin’ to be any better’n the rest, but when it
comes to knifin’ fellers in my own outfit, or hangin’ ‘em alive over the rocks
for buzzards to feed on, I’m done.’

 
          
“Aw,
Bud was an accident, an’ that other play warn’t nothin’ but a joke, Snap,’
Dexner protested, though there was a grin on his face as he spoke.

 
          
The
little gunman’s lips stiffened into a sneer. “Keep that hogwash for them as is
likely to swaller it, Dex,’ he said. “
Understand, I’m
through.
Any o’ yu got notions?’

 
          
It
was a direct challenge, and the maker awaited the outcome with narrowed eyes
and ready fingers, while the men he faced reckoned up the chances. They could
kill him, beyond doubt, but they knew it could not be done before the claw-like
hands hovering over the gun-butts got to work. Some of them would never see
another sunrise. For a moment Death hesitated over the spot—and passed on. The
gambler shook his head slightly, as though answering his own thought, and then
said :

 
          
“We’re
shore sorry to lose yu, Snap, but she’s a free country. I take it yu won’t
snitch?’

 
          
“Yu
take it correct, an’ I’m plumb glad yu put it the way yu did,’ retorted Snap
meaningly. “That’s one o’ the things I never done, an’ I ain’t aimin’ to start
now. What I know I’ll keep under my hat.’

 
          
“An’
I s’pose we’ll have to reckon yu against us?’ put in Blaynes.

 
          
“I’m
doin’ my duty to the man that pays me; take that how yu like,’ came the answer.

 
          
‘Ain’t
got religion, have yu, Snap?’ sneered Post Adams. “
Shore,
an’ here are my prayer-books. Yu want to be converted?’

 
          
His
fingers swept the walnut handles protruding from the low-hung holsters, his
body crouched as though about to spring, and his face was a mask of ferocity as
he glared at the last speaker. It was Pete who averted the catastrophe. He had
seen many shootings, and he knew that one type of killer always works himself
into a fury before getting his man, with the object, perhaps, of justifying the
deed to himself.

 
          
“We
don’t want
no
gun-play here,’ he said, “an’ I’ll drill
the first man that pulls. Yu shut yore face, Post. It’s a free country, like I
said afore, an’ if Snap
don’t
want to sit in the game
no longer, he’s got a right to throw his hand in.
Anythin’
more to say, Lunt?
‘Cause we got business to talk over what won’t
interest yu now.’

 
          
“On’y
this,’ Snap said. “If there’s a feller here who wants to argue with me at any
time ‘bout what I choose to do, he knows where to find me.’

 
          
His
narrowed eyes watched Adams as he spoke, and there was no doubt as to whom the
invitation was meant for, but the Double X puncher made no reply; he had
courage, but the little gunman was a chilly proposition. Snap waited for a few
moments and then, with a sneering laugh, backed slowly to the door, slid
through and closed it behind him. Not until they heard the splashing of his
horse fording the creek did anyone speak, and then Dexter
said
:

 
          
“We
lose a useful man. Is it safe to trust him?’

 
          
“I’m
sayin’ it ain’t—he’ll snitch as shore as hell,’ Adams put in. “Yu oughtta let
us get him, Pete.’

 
          
“Think
so, do yu?’
sneered
the gambler. “If I’d been fool
enough to do that we’d have lost three or four useful men. Snap’s quicker than
any of us, an’ he came loaded for trouble. O’ course, if yu reckon he ain’t to
be relied on, there’s time aplenty to make it safe. He’s headed for the Y Z,
an’ I don’t suppose he’ll hurry. The side trail’d put yu ahead o’ him an’ he’ll
be in plain sight where the trail skirts The Gut. Me, I ain’t worryin’. I dunno
why he’s throwed us down, but I think he’s square.’

 
          
Thus
he cunningly dissociated himself from the murder of the renegade, while giving
it his sanction and even egging the others on to the deed. As he had expected,
Post Adams got up at once; the gunman’s challenge, which he had not dared to
take up, rankled deeply.

 
          
“Better
be shore than sorry, I guess,’ he said. “Who’s a-comin’?’

 
          
“I’m
with yu, Post. Never did like that little runt anyway
,‘said
another of the Double X men, a heavy, stolid fellow of Teutonic extraction, who
answered to the name of “Dutch.’

       
“Any more?’ asked
Post, looking round.

 
          
“Ain’t
two o’ you enough to bushwhack one man?’ gibed Rattler. “What yu skeered of?’

 
          
“Not
o’ yu, anyway,’ snapped Adams, as he stamped out of the room, followed by
Dutch.

 
          
The
flat report of a rifle-shot, followed in a moment by a second and then a third,
made Green pull in his horse, and then force the animal down the slope of the
ridge along which he had been riding; a man on the skyline makes too good a
target. Again the three shots rang out, the second instantly followed by the
third.

 
          
“Two
to one,’ decided the puncher. “Mr. First Man fires, an’ when Mr. Single
replies, Mr. Second pumps one into his smoke. I reckon it may be worth lookin’
into.’

 
          
Dismounting
and tying his horse, he took his rifle from the saddle and stole cautiously
down a steepish declivity in the direction he believed the man he called Mr.
Single to be. Soon he came upon a horse tied in
a
ounch of cottonwoods, and bearing the Y Z brand. A little further on, stretched
full length behind a small boulder and cuddling the stock of his Winchester
repeater, was a man he instantly recognised as Snap Lunt. He had no hat, and
was cursing painstakingly.