CHAPTER VII
THE RIDDLE
"We'd oughta closed with Jack Harpe last night," said Swing Tunstall,easing his muscular body down on a broken packing-case that satdrunkenly beside the posts of the hotel corral. "What's the sense ofputting things off thataway, Racey? Now we'll lose two days' wages fornothing."
"I had a reason," declared Racey Dawson, threading a new rawhidestring through one of the silver conchas on his split-ear bridle. "Iwanted to talk it over good with you first."
"Why for? What's there to talk over, I'd like to know? Why--"
"Because," interrupted Racey, "there's something up, if you ask me."
"What for a reason is that?" demanded the irritated Swing. "That ain'ta reason, no good reason, anyway. I'm telling you flat, y' understand,that so long as we gotta take root here instead of going to Arizonalike we'd planned it out--so long's yo're gonna renig on the playlike I say, the best thing we can do is string our chips with JackHarpe's."
"That yore idea of a bright thing to do, huh?" questioned Racey, hisnimble fingers busy with the rawhide.
"I done told you," said Swing with dignity.
"Poor, poor Swing," murmured Racey as though to the bridle's address."The Gawd-forsaken young feller. It must be the devil and all to gothrough life in such shape as he's in. All right in lots of ways, too.He eats like a hawg, drinks like a fish, and snores like a ripsaw, soyou can see there's something almost human about him. But he hasn'tany brains, not a brain. He never has anything on his mind but hishair and a hat. Yep, she's a sad, sad case. Lordy, Swing, old-timer, Ifeel sorry for you. You got my sympathy. I'll always stick up for youthough. I won't let--"
"This here," cut in Swing, "has gone far enough. If you got anythingto say, say it."
"I been saying it. Ain't it sunk in yet? Hand me that axe, and I'llmake another try."
"Stop yore fool lallygaggin'," Swing exclaimed, impatiently. "Let'shave the whole sermon. Gawd, yo're worse'n a woman. Gab, gab, gab!Nothing but. C'mon, tie the string to the latch, and slam the door.This tooth has been aching a long, long while."
"It's thisaway, Swing," Racey said, soberly. "There ain't any mannerof use going into something we ain't got the whole straight of."
"What you talking about--the straight of?"
"Yep, the straight of. Don't you see anything funny about thisjigger's offer?"
"Looks like a fair proposition to me. Fifty per shore listens well."
"As if that's all of it."
"Well, what's a li'l fussin' round with Baldy Barbee and the Anvilfolks?"
"Nothin a-tall, _that_ ain't. But the li'l green pea ain't under_that_ shell. Listen here, Swing, old-timer, I got a long and gashlytale of wickedness to pour into those lily-white mule ears of yores.Yep, if it wasn't me a-telling it I'll bet you'd think it was a fairytale."
"I might even so," said the sceptical Swing. "But I don't mind. I'mgood-natured to-day. I feel just like being lied to. Turn yore wolfloose."
* * * * *
"What do you feed it on?" inquired solemn-faced Swing when he hadheard Racey to the bitter end.
"Feed which on what?" demanded the unsuspicious Racey.
"Yore imagination."
"Say, lookit here--"
"Yeah, I know. Oh, aw right, aw right, I didn't go for to make youmad. I believe it. Every word. You're getting so dam touchy nowadays,Racey, they's no living with you. I swear they ain't. Why, if a fellerso much as doubts one of yore reg'lar fish stories you gotta crawl hishump. Aw right, I believe you. How big was he again? Ugh-h-h! Uncle!Uncle! Get off my stummick! I said 'Uncle,' didn't I? Damitall, thatleft ear of mine will never be the same again. You rammed it into arock with more points than a barb-wire fence. Nemmine no more foolin'now. Are you shore you got Peaches fixed for three-four days? 'Causeif you ain't--pop goes the weasel."
"This weasel ain't gonna pop. Not this trip. Peaches will stay put.Don't you fret. By the time he does drift in we'll know all we need toknow, I guess."
"We," sniffed Swing. "Did I hear you say 'we'? Ain't you taking aawful lot for granted?"
"Shut up. I couldn't keep you out of this with a ten-foot pole. Yo'relike Tom Kane thataway--always wantin' in where it's warm. Aw right,that's settled. Lookit, we know there's some crooked work on thetowpath going on, and that Lanpher and Harpe are in it up to theirhocks. We know that Nebraska is one of Harpe's friends, and we knowthat _after_ my fuss with Nebraska, Harpe comes to you and me andoffers us jobs--jobs at fifty per, wages to start when we say when,and no work for a while, yet we're to stay round town till he wants usto start in. And he talks of maybe a li'l trouble in the future withBaldy Barbee and the Anvil boys, and he mentions Baldy and the Anvilseveral times, and the last time wasn't necessary. And, furthermore,he don't say anything a-tall about this Chin Whisker gent, who's oldDale or I'm Dutch. So there y'are, and plain enough," added Racey,holding up the bridle and turning it about. "From what Harpe said toLanpher, we know he's bound to get old Dale's ranch come hell or highwater. But he don't say anything about that to us. No, not him. It'sall Barbee and the Anvil, and he's as friendly as a dog with fleas.His actions don't fit with the facts, and when a man's actions don'tdo that they'll stand watchin', him and them both."
"Fifty per ain't to be sneezed at." Swing, whose heart had been set onArizona, was not prepared to give in without an argument. Besides, heinvariably objected on principle to anything Racey might see fit topropose. Which was humanly natural, but more than maddening--to Racey.
"Shore not--unless it sets us against our friends."
"What you talkin' about?" persisted the wilfully blinded Swing."Neither Baldy Barbee nor the Anvil outfit are any friends of mine. Idon't even know 'em to speak to."
"But I tell you it ain't Baldy Barbee and the Anvil, you wooden-headedfloop. If it was them, why would Lanpher be in it? And Nebraska? AndThompson? And Peaches Austin? I dunno exactly what it all means. Butwhatever it is, it's gotta do with the country round Farewell--withthe ranches on the Lazy. Aw right. Besides Dale's and Morgan's there'sthree ranches, ain't they, on the Lazy near Farewell?"
Racey Dawson held up three fingers, doubling a thumb and forefingerbehind them.
"Three ranches," he continued, "and the manager of one is in cahootswith this Harpe of many strings." Here he doubled down his pinkyand waved the remaining two fingers in the face of his friend. "Tworanches are left, the Cross-in-a-box and the Bar S. Jack Richie ismanager of the Cross-in-a-box. I used to ride for Jack, and he's myfriend. You dunno him, but you can take my word he's the pure quillforty ways. Then there's the Bar S. Who's foreman of that? Tom Loudon.You worked with him up at Scotty MacKenzie's Flyin' M ranch on theDogsoldier, and I've knowed him ever since I come to this country.I ain't doing anything to make me bad friends with Tom Loudon. Thenthere's Dale, this Chin Whisker party. He's a good feller, and hada heap of hard luck, too. I ain't working against him, you betcha.Nawsir. And if I don't miss my guess you don't, either."
"Aw, hell! They ain't no rat in that hole. Yo're seem' a heap o' smokewhere they ain't even a lighted match. I don't wanna do anythingagainst either Richie's outfit nor the Bar S, nor old Dale, but Iain't satisfied--"
"You ain't! Good Gawdamighty! Ain't I been tellin' you? Ain't I beenexplaining of it all in words of one syllable? Can't you see Harpe'strying to pull us in with him is just a trick to get us shot by ourfriends? Because his jumping old Dale's ranch will shore start a warand you can gamble it's just as dangerous to be shot by yore friendsas it is by the enemy. Here I'm telling you over and over and youain't satisfied yet! I've heard of fellers like you, but I neverbelieved it was possible. Like the whiffle-tit, they were just a damnlie. But it's all true. Swing, old settler, if you had a quarter-ouncemore sense you'd be half-witted."
"If I had a quarter-ounce more sense I'd quit you cold like that." Sosaying Swing Tunstall rose to his feet and shuffled a guileful step ortwo closer to Racey. The movement of his right arm passed unnoticed byRacey. But the lighted cigar
ette that, following his movement, slippeddown Racey's back between his shirt collar and his neck did not passunnoticed.
Racey hopped up with a sharp exclamation and shucked himself out ofhis shirt with the utmost despatch. He did not stop at the shirt, buttore off his undershirt likewise.
"Better luck than I hoped for," Swing remarked from a safe distance."I didn't think it would slide down inside yore undershirt, too. Burnyou much, Racey, dear? You look awful cute standin' there with nothingon but yore pants. All you need now is a pair of wings and a bown'arrer and you'd be a dead ringer for Cupid growed up. And there'sMis' Lainey and Mis' Galloway looking at you from their kitchenwindows. They can hear what yo're saying, too. Fie, for shame."
But Racey Dawson had gathered up his clothing and fled to the backof the corral. Muttering to himself he was pulling on his shirt whenSwing joined him--at a safe distance.
"Helluva trick to play on a feller," grumbled Racey.
"Served you right," was the return. "You hadn't oughta called mehalf-witted. Do you know you look just like a turtle in his shell withyore shirt half on half off thataway?"
"Aw, go sit on yoreself!"
At this juncture fat Bill Lainey wheezed round the corner of thecorral.
"What you been doin', Racey?" inquired the hotel-keeper. "Taking abath?"
"Naw, I ain't been taking a bath!" Racey denied ungraciously. "I dothis for fun and my health twice a day--once on Sundays."
"Well, it must 'a' been a heap funny whatever it was, or Swingwouldn't be laughin' so hard. Yeah. Lookit, Racey--I meant to catchyou at breakfast, but you was through before I got back from MikeFlynn's--lookit, I wish you'd go a li'l slow when yo're roughhousin'round in my place. Rack Slimson, my most payin' customer, hadda sleepon the dinin' room table all night because you druv him out of hisroom."
"Bill, that was a joke," Racey intoned, solemnly. "I didn't like theway the feller snored. Likewise he had too much to say. So naturally Ihad to make him take it on the run. What else could I do? I ask you,what else could I do?"
"Don't you believe him, Bill," cut in Swing, fearful that Racey wouldget credit for an effort at humour where, in his own estimation, nonewas due. "Racey hasn't got the guts to pick a fuss with a pack rat. Itwas me that chased Rack Slimson downstairs."
"That's right," Racey assented, smoothly, suddenly mindful both of apeculiar gleam in Bill Lainey's eye and a chance sentence uttered bythe hasher in his hearing at breakfast. "That's right. It was SwingTunstall what made so free and outrageous with Rack Slimson. Yougo and crawl Swing's hump, Bill. Lord knows he needs it. He's beengetting awful brash and uppity lately. No living with him. Give himhell, Bill."
"I don't wanna give nobody hell. Live at peace is my motto. All Iwanna know is who's gonna settle for six cups, eleven sassers, tenplates, and a middle-size pitcher Rack Slimson busted when he rolledoff the table with 'em durin' the night. I don't think Rack oughtahafta pay, because he wouldn't 'a' had to sleep there on the tableonly bein' druv out thataway he couldn't help it like."
"Huh--how much, Bill?" inquired Swing in a still small voice, andthrust his hand within his pocket.
"Well, seein' as it's you, Swing," was the prompt reply, "I'll onlysay ten dollars and six bits. And that's dirt cheap. Honest, I'll betit'll cost me fifteen dollars and a half to replace 'em, what with thescandalous prices we got now."
"And I hope that'll make you a better boy, Swing," said Racey,observing with relish the transfer of real money from Swing's hand tothe landlord's palm. "There's such a thing, Swing, old settler, asbeing too quick, as whirling too wide a loop as the man said when heroped the locomotive. And it all costs money. Yep, sometimes as muchas ten dollars and six bits."
"... and one and one and two makes ten and six bits makesten-seventy-five," totalled Swing Tunstall, "and that makes allsquare."
"Correct," said Bill Lainey, stuffing the money into a wide trouserspocket. "'Bliged to you, Swing. I wish all the gents paid up as promptas you do."
"Oh, you needn't be surprised," chipped in the ready Racey. "Swing's afair-minded boy. He'll do what's right every time, once you show himwhere he's wrong. Yeah. Say, Bill, has Nebraska Jones many friends inthis town?"
"More than enough," was the enigmatic reply.
"'Enough,' huh? Enough for what?"
"For whatever's necessary, Racey. But I ain't talking about Nebraskaand his friends. Not me. I got a wife and family to support, andthey's enough trouble running a hotel without picking up any more byletting yore tongue waggle too much."
"Yo're right, Bill. Yore views do you credit. Is it against the law totell a feller where Nebraska's friends hang out when they're in town?"
"The dance hall and the Starlight," replied Bill Lainey, promptly.
"Might you happen to know any of their names, Bill?"
"What you wanna do, Racey, is look out for a jigger named Coffin,"declared Lainey, coming flatly to the point. "Doc Coffin. Yop. Thenthey's Punch-the-Breeze Thompson, Honey Hoke, and Peaches Austin.They's a few more, but they ain't the kind to take the lead inanything. They always follow. But Coffin, Thompson, Hoke, and Austinare the gents to keep yore eye peeled for. I ain't talking about 'em,y' understand. I ain't got a word to say against 'em, not a word. If Iwas you, though, and I wanted to live longer and healthier Doc Coffinis the one you wanna watch special--a heap special."
"Thanks, Bill, I--"
"No thanks needed," fended off the hotel-keeper, hastily. "I ain'tsaid nothin', and don't you forget it."
"I won't. Is the Starlight's owner, Rack Slimson, any friend ofNebraska's, too?"
"We-ell, I dunno as he's a boom companion exactly, but Nebraska andhis bunch spend a pile of money in the Starlight, a pile of money. Afeller would be safe in saying that Rack Slimson's sympathy is withNebraska."
The Heart of the Range Page 7