Oliver Strange - Sudden Westerns 01 - The Range Robbers(1930) (6 page)

 
          
“Don’t
that beat hell?’ was his astonished comment. “An’ smart too. Say, this ain’t
no
one man job. Why not tell Old Simon, an’ ask for me as a
side-partner?’

 
          
Green
shook his head. “I’m layin’ low for a bit. Yu keep all I’ve told yu behind yore
face,’ he said. “I’m relyin’ on yu now; but we got work both ends. ‘
Nother thing.
Don’t let on that we’re too friendly; we don’t
want ‘em to get suspicious o’ yu.’

 
          
“Rattler
don’t love me none as it is,’ Larry said. “I’d have asked for my time months
ago but for…’

 
          
“Shore;
but don’t tell me—I might be surprised,’ interrupted his friend, with a grin.
“Well, don’t yu
care.
A fellow can’t tell what’s in
the pack till the
cards is
turned.’

 
          
“Some
fellers can’t; yu seem to be able to,”Larry retorted.

 
          
“Easy
enough with tinhorns like Poker Pete, but when Mother Fate is a-dealin’ it’s a
hoss of a different color. Know anythin’ about Old Simon?’

 
          
“Mighty
little,’ was the reply. “He settled here with his girl soon after the
gold-diggin’s petered out, but I never heard where he
come
from. That must be about eighteen years ago.’

 
          
“His
daughter don’t
favor him much,’ Green said
reflectively.

 
          
“Much?’
cried Larry indignantly. “She ain’t a mite like him. How could she be? Old
Simon never fell out of a picture-book.’ Green shook with silent mirth. “Yu
certainly are easy,’ he chuckled. “The little feller with the bow an’ arrows
has got yu thrown an’ tied shore enough.’

 
          
“An’
another feller with a bow an’ arrow’ll lay yu out cold an’ stiff if yu ain’t
careful,’ retorted the boy, whose red face showed that the blow had gone home.
“Joking on one side, Green, I wouldn’t care to be in yore shoes.’

 
          
“Takes
a man to fill ‘em,’
bantered
the other.

 
          
“A
good part o’ one, anyway,’ Larry flashed back. Whereupon they agreed to call it
quits and sought their beds, entering the bunkhouse separately.

 
          
Lying
in his bunk, Green turned over the events of the day in an endeavor to find a
key to the mystery which overhung the ranch. He was convinced that the foreman
was playing a deep game, but he had no proof, and he recognized that obtaining
it would be no picnic. Not that this troubled him; he had been in tight places
before—in fact, his life for years had been, as he humorously phrased it, “one
damn squeeze after another.’

 
          
“If
old Nugget is in this, he’ll want to report my visit,’ he ruminated. “I’ll be
around there early to-morrow,’ and having thus settled the next step to be taken,
he turned over and promptly fell asleep.

 
          
At
daybreak he rose and dressed without awaking any of the others. He aroused the
cook, who slept in his own quarters, and representing that he had an urgent job
for the ranch-owner, managed to secure a meal and provision for the day, though
not without protest.

 
          
“If
all yu dudes is goin’ to eat separate, I quit,’ growled the cook. “What’s the
matter with this blamed ranch, anyway? There’s Rattler comes pesterin’ round
for his breakfast ‘alf an ‘our ago, an’ now yu. Must be afeared yu ain’t
earnin’ yore pay, some o’ yu.’

 
          
This
was news for Green; the foreman had got ahead of him. A query to the cook as to
Rattler’s destination elicited a disgusted reply.

 
          
“Ow in ‘ell do I know?
Does he strike yu as a feller who
advertises? Yu ain’t told me nothin’ yerself.’

 
          
“I
don’t advertise either,’ Green laughed, and left the irate provision purveyor
muttering dark and bloody threats against the next unlucky wight who should
come in search of an early meal.

 
          
Surmising
that the foreman might be on the same errand as himself, Green proceeded on his
way cautiously, taking cover when it offered, and avoiding the skyline whenever
it was possible to do so. He discovered no sign of Blaynes, however, until he
reached the hut, and there, from the thick brush, he saw a horse with the reins
thrown waiting patiently outside the door. Leaving his own mount, he crept
close enough to make out the Y Z brand on the animal’s rump.

 
          
Making
a detour, he found a fallen tree which bridged the stream at a narrow point,
and crossed. There were no windows at the back of the cabin, and stepping with
the craft of an Indian, Green was soon crouched by the logs which formed the
rear wall. Inside, he could hear voices, the foreman’s and the old miner’s.

 
          
“Now
yu understan’, Nugget,’ Blaynes was saying. “He ain’t wanted, an’ if yu catch
him nosin’ round here, bump him off. There won’t be
no
inquiries, an’ if there is, it’ll be put down to Injuns, if yo’re careful.’

 
          
The
other man laughed shortly, and guessing that the visitor was about to leave,
Green retreated to the bushes. In a few moments Rattler appeared, mounted, and
rode off in the direction of the ranch. Green waited patiently, and at the end
of about half an hour, Nugget came out carrying a saddle and lariat. In a
little clearing not far from the cabin was a rough corral. Nugget roped the
sole occupant, a savage-looking cowpony, adjusted the saddle, and took a dim
trail which appeared to lead to the mountains.

 
          
“Bet
m’self two dollars he’s headed for the Double X,’ Green soliloquized. “I’ll
have to see if I win.’

 
          
Keeping
well in the background, he followed the tracks of the man in front. The trail,
which was obviously very little used, wound in and out among the trees and
undergrowth, which here and there almost obstructed it. Nugget was evidently
taking his time over the trip, and once the pursuer was near enough to get a
whiff of rank tobacco. He at once slowed down. He had no fear of losing his
man, for the ground was soft, and the hoof-marks of the pony showed clearly.
For over an hour he jogged steadily on, and then found himself on the rim of a
deep valley, treeless and covered with lush grass. Halfway down the long slope
he could see his quarry trotting leisurely towards the other side. He waited
until Nugget vanished over the far skyline, and then followed at a fast lope.

 
          
As
he expected, the miner had disappeared, but his trail led down a long incline
covered with pine and clumps of undergrowth. Green pressed on, anxious to make
up the time he had been forced to waste at the valley. Rounding a tree-covered
pinnacle of rock, he suddenly pulled his horse back on its haunches. In front
of him, running at right angles,
lay
a broad open
trail, scored with innumerable footprints of horse and cattle. Those of the
rider in front could no longer be distinguished. Green swore softly.

 
          
“Hell!’
he said. “
Gotta take a chance now, Blue.
But what’s a
big trail like this a-doin’ here?’

 
          
The
animal’s answer was a movement to the left, and his master, who had the
superstitions as well as the instincts of a gambler, accepted the hint. Mile
after mile they followed the trail, which twisted and turned round hills and
gullies in a way that showed foresight on the part of those who had first used
it.

 
          
“Feller
could take a tidy bunch o’ cows over this, an’ at a good lick,’ muttered the
cowpuncher.

 
          
An
hour’s hard riding brought him no sight of the man he was tracking. The
cattle-trail, moreover, came to an end on the bank of a wide but shallow stream
which emerged from the jaws of a dark and narrow canyon. Into this for some
distance the trailer penetrated, scanning the banks of the stream carefully,
but no trace of horse or cow rewarded him. On either hand the living rock,
sparsely clothed with vegetation, rose almost vertically, while straight ahead
a blank wall of rock indicated that the canyon was a blind one.

 
          
“An’
cows ain’t got wings,’ Green said, adding to his unspoken thought.

 
          
He
turned back to where the trail ended, crossed the water, and struck out over an
expanse of shale-covered ground. It proved to be more than a mile wide, and on
the other side of it, he found cattle sign again.

 
          
He
pressed on, passing now through deep forest, then a stretch of open grassland,
while at times the trail dipped into deep, savage gullies, hewn by Nature out
of the bare rock and draped with spare vegetation. Emerging from one of these,
he saw a bit of rolling prairie, shut in by wooded hills, and on the edge of it
some log-buildings and corrals. In the distance were specks which he knew to be
cattle.

 
          
The
place appeared to be deserted, and he was about to shout when a man showed in
the doorway. Green noted that he did not seem surprised, and surmised that his
approach had been observed. The fellow was powerful-looking, thick-lipped, and
wore a black patch over one eye, which imparted a cunning expression to his
face. He had a revolver slung at his hip, and the handle of a knife protruded
from his boot.

 
          
“Afternoon,’
Green greeted pleasantly. “I take it this is the Double X.’

 
          
“It
is,’ said the other shortly. “An’ I take it yo’re the new Y Z feller who got
gay with Poker Pete in Hatchett’s.’

 
          
Green
nodded, smiling. “I don’t allow tinhorns to run blazers on me,’ he returned
easily. “
Odd how news travels, even out here.’

 
          
“I
was in town yesterday,’ the man explained quickly, and Green chuckled inwardly.
“What’s brung yu out this far?’

 
          
“Well,
I’ve been huntin’ strays, an’ got the fool notion I was headin’ for home, but I
reckon I’ve strayed some m’self,’ the cowpuncher explained.

 
          
The
one-eyed man burst into a coarse laugh. “If yu keep agoin’ yu’ll have to go all
round the world to get to the Y Z,’ he guffawed.

 
          
“Is
that so? Pointin’ right away from it, eh?’ replied the visitor. “Well, if this
ain’t the beatenest country; that’s twice I done lost m’self in it.’

 
          
If
the man doubted this somewhat unlikely excuse for the puncher’s presence he
showed no sign of it. “Get down an’drink,’ he invited. “Can’t offer yu any
grub: we’re clean out. The boys are at Hatchett’s with the wa.ggin, fetchin’ in
what I ordered yesterday.’

 
          
His
one eye watched the visitor closely as he offered this information. Green
nodded understandingly, dismounted, and tied his horse, not yet being certain
that Blue would stand for a thrown rein. His host eyed the animal covetously.

 
          
“Good
hoss,’ he remarked. “Had
him
long?’

 
          
“No,’
replied the cowboy. “He’s kind o’ new.’

 
          
The
room they entered was a large one, and had a boarded floor. The furniture
consisted mainly of a long table and a number of chairs and benches, mostly
decorated with saddles, guns, and odds and ends of camp equipment. Two doors on
the far side apparently led to the other parts of the building, which was of
one storey only. Through one of these doors Green could hear a peculiarly
raucous voice bellowing a cowboy ballad.

 
          
“That’s
my cook—thinks he’s a blasted opery singer,’ explained the host. “I’ll just abate
him a bit.’ He opened one of the doors and yelled “Hey, Carewso, stop that
blamed racket; I got a visitor what’s fond o’ music.’

 
          
The
unholy noise died away into a grumble, and the host shut the door with a grin.
“The boys call him that. They stand it pretty well, but I reckon they’ll
abolish him one of these days.’