Oliver Strange - Sudden Westerns 01 - The Range Robbers(1930) (44 page)

 
          
“Best
lead the roan, safer, huh?’ she heard one of her captors say.

 
          
“I
reckon,’ came the answer, and then she knew in whose hands she was, and that
Tarman had scored again.

 
          
“WHAT’S
up now?’ muttered the owner of the Frying Pan as he emerged from his doorway
and saw three riders approaching at a leisurely pace. Evidently catching sight
of him, they swung their hats and let out a cowboy yell which put instant life
into.
the
heels of their mounts. In a few brief
moments Leeming was looking into the grinning countenances of Ginger, Dirty,
and Simple. His quick eye noted that each man had his warbags tied to the
cantle of his saddle.

 
          
“Howdy,
boys, what can I do for yu?’ was his greeting.

 
          
“Give
us jobs if yu can use us,’ smiled Ginger. “We’re shore homeless.’

 
          
“Yu
left the Y Z?’ queried Leeming incredulously. “
How come?’

 
          
“Tarman
don’t like us none, that’s how,’ chimed in Dirty. “What’s he gotta do with it?’

 
          
“He’s
runnin’ things—claims he’s part owner o’ the ranch, an’ Simon bein’ a pretty
sick man there ain’t no one to call his bluff,’ explained Ginger. “Blaynes
shore eats out of his hand.’

 
          
“Huh!
I’m agoin’ over to see Simon this mornin’,’ said Job. “Yu boys go down to the
bunkhouse an’ put yoreselves outside a good breakfast. Tell Dirk that yu are
all on the Frying Pan payroll till the Y Z wants yu again, an’ that’ll be just
as soon as I’ve had a word with the Old Man.’

 
          
“Yu
wouldn’t like us to come back with yu?’ suggested Simple, hopefully.

 
          
“I
just would, but it won’t do,’
grinned
the Frying Pan
owner. “Simon was talkin’ o’ letting Tarman in on the Y Z an’
its
just possible he’s done it; if so, we should be on the
wrong side o’ the fence. Wait till I’ve seen him. Heard anythin’ o’ Green?’

 
          
“Not
a damn whisper,’ replied Ginger. “Reckon he’s jumped the reservation this
time.’

 
          
“Well,
it ain’t
no
loss—we don’t want no darn outlaws
cavortin’ round here,’ returned Leeming.

 
          
“Mebbe
he is an outlaw, but he’s a man, an’ I’d sooner have him oack o’ me than most
o’ the fellers who’re huntin’ him,’ retorted Ginger hotly, and wondered why his
reply made the cattleman smile.

 
          
At
the bunkhouse they needed no introduction and found a hearty welcome, being
known as good men, but they got chaffed.

 
          
“This
outfit is gettin’ some brainy,’ observed Lucky Lomas. “Three “Wise heads” at
one gather; Old Simon is shore losin’ his intellects.’

 
          
“An’
the Frying Pan is shore gettin’ what it needs,’ grinned Ginger, as he dumped
his saddle, slid into an empty seat and reached for the nearest dish, an
example his friends lost no time in following.

 
          
“How’s
the Old Man makin’ it?’ asked Dirk presently, when the newcomers had taken the
edge off their by no means small appetites. Ginger, remembering Snap’s
injunction, shook his head.

 
          
I
ain’t seen him myself, but Snap says he’s mortal bad,’ he replied. “That feller
Tarman’s actin’ as if he owned the whole shootin’ manch a’ready.’

 
          
The
foreman grunted. “Mebbe Job’ll have a word to say about that,’ he said, “an’ I
reckon he can say it with a chorus, eh, boys?’

 
          
The
response was unanimous and had Tarman been there to hear it he would certainly
have been less self-satisfied; the Frying Pan outfit, with its wholehearted
admiration for its irascible boss, was a tough problem, and with the help of
the Y Z boys was certain no give a good account of itself.

 
          
“That
misfit of a marshal still outlaw-huntin’?’ asked Charlie, and when Ginger
nodded, he went on, “He came prancin’ round here yestiddy, lookin’ for Green.
My ghost, yu oughtta heard the Old Man lace into him; some o’ the things he
said would’ve raised blisters on most men.’

 
          
“An’
Tonk was hoppin’ mad but he didn’t dare pull his gun,’ supplemented Woods. “He
stood there with his own men grinnin’ at him, babblin’ about his representin’
the law. “Yu?” yells Job. “The law’s sunk pretty low if it’s gotta be
represented by an ugly, busted-down whisky-keg like yu. Hit the trail mighty
brisk or the law’ll be shy o’ the poorest marshal that ever noted a badge.”
Tonk gave him a black look an’ says, “I’ll not forget this, Leeming.” The Old
Man laughed in his
face
, an’ says, “Which you’d better
not, if yu want to live,” an’ the marshal slunk off like a whipped dog.’

 
          
“Job
shore has got a poisonous tongue bun he’s white to his toenails,’ commented
Lucky.

 
          
With
the disappearance of the last cup of coffee a move was made to the corral and
Dirk began to apportion the day’s work. The roping and saddling of mounts was
in full swing when Dirty, with a shout and a waving arm, turned all eyes on the
horizon.

 
          
‘There’s
a visitor a-comin’ an’ he’s shore fannin’ it,’ he exclaimed.

 
          
Far
out on the plain they could see a horseman, bent low in the saddle, heading for
the ranch at full speed. Leeming, who had also seen the approaching rider, now
joined the group at the corral.

 
          
“Looks
like
Snap
,’ said Ginger. “He allus crouches in the
saddle when he’s goin’ fast—claims it helps the hoss by decreasin’ the wind
resistance. Wonder what’s up?’

 
          
“P’raps
he’s downed Tarman an’ they’re after him,’ surmised one of the Frying Pan boys.

 
          
“Snap
ain’t the runnin’ kind—he’d stay an’ shoot it out with ‘em,’ Leeming said.

 
          
A
few breathless minutes, and the pony, a savage-eyed bunch of nerves and steel
wire slid to a stop in their midst, sending the grey dust flying. As Ginger had
guessed, the newcomer was Lunt. He got down, trailed the reins and turned to
Leeming.

 
          
“Howdy,
Job?
Miss Norry here?’

 
          
“Ain’t
seen her,’ replied Leeming. “Why?’

 
          
“She
went out ridin’ yestiddy afternoon an’ never come back. She didn’t go to town ‘
cause
I’ve been there to see, an’ so I reckoned she musta
come here. Look’s like somethin’s happened to her.’

 
          
“Hell’s
bells !
What’s come to this damn country?’ cried
Leemifig, his face suddenly scarlet with passion. “What do yu reckon has
happened to her?’

 
          
“How
do I know?’ replied Snap quietly. “She was ridin’ Blue, an’ the hoss may have
turned ugly—yu never can tell with these outlaw hosses. Or she may have met up
with ‘Paches or rustlers. I’ll gamble a month’s pay she ain’t stayin’ away from
the Old Man of her own free will.’

 
          
“Yo’re
shoutin’,’ said Job. “By heavens, if I find a feller that’s dared to lay a
finger on that girl I’ll scalp him alive!’ He glared at the men around him and
suddenly became aware that they were doing nothing. “What are yu gapin’ at me
for, yu goggle-eyed misfits?’ he yelled. “Get yore hosses an’ some grub, an’
put a jerk in it. No more work’ll be done on this ranch till the girl is found.
Comb every mile o’ the blasted country. Yo’re in charge, Dirk. I’m goin’ over
to the Y Z to have a chat with Mr. Tarman; report there to me.’

 
          
He
turned and went back to the ranch-house, leaving his grinning outfit to prepare
for the search, which it did with no further loss of time. Food, weapons, and
horses were soon secured, and the men split up into parties and started in
different directions.

 
          
“Ain’t
he a shinin’ wonder?’ confided Lucky to the smiling Y Z men. “There ain’t
another chap in the Territory we’d take nhat line o’ talk from an’ he knows it,
cuss him.’

 
          
The
object of this compliment—for such it was—did not trouble any more about them;
they had their job, and he knew it would be thoroughly done. He himself went
straight to the room where Green and Larry were passing the time wrangling over
a game of crib. The impressions caused by his news were in odd contrast. Larry
was instantly all excitement and anger, while his companion sat silent, only
the tightened jaw muscles and narrowed eyes telling that he had heard.

 
          
“What
we goin’ to do?’ asked the younger man, who was striding up and down the room.

 
          
“Yu
might try settin’ down an’ shuttin’ yore face for a start,’ said his friend
sardonically. “Yo’re actin’ like a scared hen.’

 
          
“Yu
ain’t actin’ at all—that’s why I’m askin’,’ retorted the other hotly, but he
nevertheless took the hint.

 
          
“What
d’yu make of it?’ asked
Job.

 
          
“I
figure
it’s
Tarman,’ replied the outlaw slowly. “Mebbe
he thinks he can crowd Simon into concludin’ the sale, or he’s forcin’ the girl
to marry him. There’s another possibility—it may be a ruse to skin yore ranch
o’ folks an’ pull off a big raid. Yu sent all yore boys on the hunt?’

 
          
“Every
darn one barrin’ the cook,’ Leeming said. “That last’s a chance I gonta take.
I’m leaving for the Y Z now; too bad yu fellers can’t take a hand.’

 
          
“We’re
aimin’ to,’ Green said. “Where’d yu cache our hosses?’

 
          
“In
the old stable at the end o’ this place—it ain’t been used for years. There’s a
door into it from the house. Take anythin’ yu needs.’

 
          
It
was characteristic of the man that he asked no questions as to their movements
and made no attempt to dissuade them; in local phraseology, it was a case of
letting every man skin his own meat.

 
          
No
sooner had he gone than the others followed. Packing up a supply of food, they
found their mounts, and by keeping the ranch-house between themselves and the
bunkhouse got away unobserved by the solitary cook, who was enjoying an
unlooked-for holiday smoking and reading in his bunk. Not until they were clear
away did Larry ask where they were going.

 
          
“We’ll
ride straight to the Crossed Dumb-bell. If we find she’s there, yu can fetch
Job an’ his boys an’ we’ll clean up the bunch.’

 
          
The
younger man had no objections to offer and they crossed the intervening Y Z
range at a good speed, headed again for the trail which skirted the Sandy
Parlour desert. They passed groups of cattle but saw no riders, and the
line-house was deserned. Green smiled grimly.

 
          
“Looks
like they ain’t afraid o’ warwhoop rustlers no more,’ he commented. “All the
same, Job shouldn’t ‘a’ left the Frying Pan wide open; Tarman ain’t the kind to
miss a chance like that.’

 
          
“Huh!
We know where to find the cows anyways,’ said his companion. “We’ll get ‘em
back when the showdown comes, yu bet,
yu
.’

 
          
“An’
it won’t be long now,’ Green responded. “If Tarman has Miss Norry, he’s
overplayed his hand. Even Hatchett’s won’t stand for that, an’ Job has friends
there too.’

 
          
They
pressed steadily on, mile after mile, keeping for the most part to the trail
used by the rustlers; only now and then they saved distance by leaving it and
forcing their way through a wood or brush-filled gully which was more direct
and possible for horsemen not hampered with a herd of cattle. Around them the
birds sang, the sunlight filtered through the foliage and tiny streams
whispered merrily on their way to join larger ones. Among the patches of big
timber the solitude was complete and the hoofs of the horses made no sound on
the thick carpet of pine needles.