CHAPTER XXXVII
SHORTY ASKS A QUESTION
When Shorty separated from Doble in Frio Canon he rode inconspicuously toa tendejon where he could be snugly hidden from the public gaze and yetmeet a few "pals" whom he could trust at least as long as he could keephis eyes on them. His intention was to have a good time in the only wayhe knew how. Another purpose was coupled with this; he was not going todrink enough to interfere with reasonable caution.
Shorty's dissipated pleasures were interfered with shortly aftermidnight. A Mexican came in to the drinking-place with news. The worldwas on fire, at least that part of it which interested the cattlemen ofthe Malapi district. The blaze had started back of Bear Canon and hadbeen swept by the wind across to Cattle and San Jacinto. The oil fieldadjacent had been licked up and every reservoir and sump was in flames.The whole range would probably be wiped out before the fire spent itselffor lack of fuel. Crawford had posted a rider to town calling for moreman power to build trails and wield flails. This was the sum of the news.It was not strictly accurate, but it served to rouse Shorty at once.
He rose and touched the Mexican on the arm. "Where you say that firestarted, Pedro?"
"Bear Canon, senor."
"And it's crossed San Jacinto?"
"Like wildfire." The slim vaquero made a gesture all-inclusive. "It runs,senor, like a frightened jackrabbit. Nothing will stop it--nothing. Itiss sent by heaven for a punishment."
"Hmp!" Shorty grunted.
The rustler fell into a somber silence. He drank no more. The dark-lashedeyes of the Mexican girls slanted his way in vain. He stared sullenly atthe table in front of him. A problem had pushed itself into hisconsciousness, one he could not brush aside or ignore.
If the fire had started back of Bear Canon, what agency had set it going?He and Doble had camped last night at that very spot. If there had been afire there during the night he must have known it. Then when had the firestarted? And how? They had seen the faint smoke of it as they rode away,the filmy smoke of a young fire not yet under much headway. Was itreasonable to suppose that some one else had been camping close to them?This was possible, but not likely. For they would probably have seensigns of the other evening camp-fire.
Eliminating this possibility, there remained--Dug Doble. Had Dug firedthe brush while his companion was saddling for the start? The more Shortyconsidered this possibility, the greater force it acquired in his mind.Dug's hatred of Crawford, Hart, and especially Sanders would be satiatedin part at least if he could wipe their oil bonanza from the map. Thewind had been right. Doble was no fool. He knew that if the fire ran wildin the chaparral only a miracle could save the Jackpot reservoirs andplant from destruction.
Other evidence accumulated. Cryptic remarks of Doble made during theday. His anxiety to see Steelman immediately. A certain manner ofill-repressed triumph whenever he mentioned Sanders or Crawford. Thesebolstered Shorty's growing opinion that the man had deliberately firedthe chaparral from a spirit of revenge.
Shorty was an outlaw and a bad man. He had killed, and might at any timekill again. To save the Jackpot from destruction he would not have made aturn of the hand. But Shorty was a cattleman. He had been brought up inthe saddle and had known the whine of the lariat and the dust of the dragdrive all his days. Every man has his code. Three things stood out inthat of Shorty. He was loyal to the hand that paid him, he stood by hispals, and he believed in and after his own fashion loved cattle and thelife of which they were the central fact. To destroy the range feedwantonly was a crime so nefarious that he could not believe Doble guiltyof it. And yet--
He could not let the matter lie in doubt. He left the tendejon and rodeto Steelman's house. Before entering he examined carefully both of hislong-barreled forty-fives. He made sure that the six-shooters were inperfect order and that they rested free in the holsters. That sixth senseacquired by "bad men," by means of which they sniff danger when it isclose, was telling him that smoke would rise before he left the house.
He stepped to the porch and knocked. There came a moment's silence, alow-pitched murmur of whispering voices carried through an open window,the shuffling of feet. The door was opened by Brad Steelman. He was alonein the room.
"Where's Dug?" asked Shorty bluntly.
"Why, Dug--why, he's here, Shorty. Didn't know it was you. 'Lowed itmight be some one else. So he stepped into another room."
The short cowpuncher walked in and closed the door behind him. He stoodwith his back to it, facing the other door of the room.
"Did you hire Dug to fire the chaparral?" he asked, his voice ominouslyquiet.
A flicker of fear shot to the eyes of the oil promoter. He recognizedsigns of peril and his heart was drenched with an icy chill. Shorty wasgoing to turn on him, had become a menace.
"I--I dunno what you mean," he quavered. "I'll call Dug if you wanta seehim." He began to shuffle toward the inner room.
"Hold yore hawsses, Brad. I asked you a question." The cold eyes of thegunman bored into those of the other man. "Howcome you to hire Dug toburn the range?"
"You know I wouldn't do that," the older man whined. "I got sheep, ain'tI? Wouldn't be reasonable I'd destroy their feed. No, you got a wrongnotion about--"
"Yore sheep ain't on the south slope range." Shorty's mind had movedforward one notch toward certainty. Steelman's manner was that of a mandodging the issue. It carried no conviction of innocence. "How much youpayin' him?"
The door of the inner room opened. Dug Doble's big frame filled theentrance. The eyes of the two gunmen searched each other. Those of Dobleasked a question. Had it come to a showdown? Steelman sidled over tothe desk where he worked and sat down in front of it. His right handdropped into an open drawer, apparently carelessly and without intent.
Shorty knew at once that Doble had been drinking heavily. The man wasmorose and sullen. His color was high. Plainly he was primed for akilling if trouble came.
"Lookin' for me, Shorty?" he asked.
"You fired Bear Canon," charged the cowpuncher.
"So?"
"When I went to saddle."
Doble's eyes narrowed. "You aimin' to run my business, Shorty?"
Neither man lifted his gaze from the other. Each knew that the test hadcome once more. They were both men who had "gone bad," in the currentphrase of the community. Both had killed. Both searched now for anadvantage in that steady duel of the eyes. Neither had any fear. Theemotions that dominated were cold rage and caution. Every sense and nervein each focalized to one purpose--to kill without being killed.
"When yore's is mine, Dug."
"Is this yore's?"
"Sure is. I've stood for a heap from you. I've let yore ugly temper rideme. When you killed Tim Harrigan you got me in bad. Not the first timeeither. But I'm damned if I'll ride with a coyote low-down enough to burnthe range."
"No?"
"No."
From the desk came the sharp angry bark of a revolver. Shorty felt hishat lift as a bullet tore through the rim. His eyes swept to Steelman,who had been a negligible factor in his calculations. The man fired againand blew out the light. In the darkness Shorty swept out both guns andfired. His first two shots were directed toward the man behind the desk,the next two at the spot where Doble had been standing. Another gun wasbooming in the room, perhaps two. Yellow fire flashes ripped theblackness.
Shorty whipped open the door at his back, slid through it, and kicked itshut with his foot as he leaped from the porch. At the same moment hethought he heard a groan.
Swiftly he ran to the cottonwood where he had left his horse tied. Hejerked loose the knot, swung to the saddle, and galloped out of town.
The drumming of hoofs came down the wind to a young fellow returning froma late call on his sweetheart. He wondered who was in such a hurry.
Gunsight Pass: How Oil Came to the Cattle Country and Brought a New West Page 37