The Trail of the White Mule

by B. M. Bower

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Mack Nolan had just crawled into his bunk on Wednesday night when hethought he heard a car laboring up the gulch. He sat up in bed tolisten and then got hurriedly into his clothes. He was standing justaround the corner of the dugout where the headlights could not reachhim, when Casey killed the engine and stopped before the door. Steamwas rising in a small cloud from the radiator cap, and the sound ofboiling water was distinctly audible some distance away.

  Mack Nolan waited until Casey had climbed out from behind the wheel andheaded for the door. Then he stepped out and hailed him. Caseystarted perceptibly, whirling as if to face an enemy. When he saw thatit was Nolan he apparently lost his desire to enter the cabin. Insteadhe came close to Nolan and spoke in a hoarse whisper.

  "We better run 'er under the shed, Mr. Nolan, and drain the darnedradiator. I dunno am I follered or not, but I was awhile back. But theman that catches Casey Ryan when he's on the trail an' travelin, hasyet t' be born. An' you can ask anybody if that ain't so."

  Mack Nolan's eyes narrowed. "And who followed you then?" he askedquietly. "Did you bring any hootch?"

  "Did yuh send Casey Ryan after hootch, or was it mebby spuds ersomethin'?" Casey retorted with heavy dignity. "Will yuh pack it in,Mr. Nolan, whilst I back the car in the shed, or shall I bring it whenI come? It ain't so much," he added drily, "but it cost the troubleof a trainload."

  "I'll take it in," said Nolan. "If any one does come we want noevidence in reach."

  Casey turned to the car, clawed at his camp outfit and lifted out ademijohn which he grimly handed to Nolan. "Fer many a mile it rode onthe seat with me so I could drink 'er down if they got me cornered," hegrinned. "One good swaller is about the size of it, Mr. Nolan."

  Nolan grinned in sympathy and turned into the cabin, bearing thethree-gallon, wicker-covered glass bottle in his arms. Presently hereturned to the doorway and stood there listening down the gulch untilCasey came up, walking from the shed.

  "'Tis a good thing yuh left this other car standin' here cold an'peaceful, Mr. Nolan," Casey, observed, after he also had stood for aminute listening. "If they're follerin' they'll be here darn' soon. Ifthey ain't I've ditched 'em. Let's git t' bed an' I'll tell yuh mytale uh woe."

  Without a word Nolan led the way into the cabin. In the dark theyundressed and got into the bed which was luckily wide enough for two.

  "Had your supper?" Nolan asked belatedly when they were settled.

  "I did not," Casey grunted. "I will say, Mr. Nolan, there's few timesin my life when you'd see Casey Ryan missin' 'is supper whilst layin'tracks away from a fight. But if it was light enough you could gazeupon 'im now. And I must hand it t' the Gallopin' Gussie yuh give methe loan of fer the trip. She brung me home ahead of the sheriff--andyou can ask anybody if Casey Ryan himself can't be proud uh that!"

  "The sheriff?" Nolan's voice was puzzled. He seemed to be consideringsomething for a minute, before he spoke again. "You could haveexplained to the sheriff, couldn't you, your reason for having booze inthe car?"

  Casey raised to one elbow. "When yuh told Casey Ryan 'twas not manymen you'd trust, and that you trusted me an' the business was t' besecret--Mr. Nolan, you 'was talkin' t' CASEY RYAN!" He lay down againas if that precluded further argument.

  "Good! I thought I hadn't made a mistake in my man," Nolan approved, ina tone that gave Casey an inner glow of pride in himself. "Let's havethe story, old man. Did you see Bill Masters?"

  "Bill Masters," said Casey grimly, "was not in Lund. His garage issold an' Bill's in Denver--which is a long drive for a Ford t' gitthere an' back before Friday midnight. Yuh put a time limit me, Mr.Nolan, an' nobody had Bill's address. I didn't foller Bill t' Denver.I asked some others in Lund if they knowed a man named Kenner, and theydid not. So then I went huntin' booze that I could git without thehull of Nevada knowin' it in fifteen minutes. An' Casey's got this t'say: When yuh WANT hootch, it's hard t' find as free gold in granite.When yuh DON'T want it, it's forced on yuh at the point of a gun. Thisjug I stole--seein' your business is private, Mr. Nolan.

  "I grabbed it off some fellers I knowed in Lund an' never had no usefor, anyway. They're mean enough when they're sober, an' when they'rejagged they're not t' be mentioned on a Sunday. I mighta paid 'em forit, but money's no good t' them fellers an' there's no call t' wasteit. So they made a holler and I sets the jug down an' licks them both,an' comes along home mindin' my own business.

  "So I guess they 'phoned the sheriff in Vegas that here comes abootlegger and land 'im quick. Anyway, I was goin' t' stop there an'take on a beefsteak an' a few cups uh coffee, but I never done it. Iwas slowin' down in front uh Sam's Place when a friend uh mine gives methe high sign t' put 'er in high an' keep 'er goin'. Which I done.

  "Down by Ladd's, Casey looks back an' here comes the sheriff's car hellbent fer 'lection (anyway it looked like the sheriff's car). An' Iwanta say right here, Mr. Nolan, that's a darn' good Ford yuh got! Iwas follered, and 'I was follered hard. But I'm here an' they'ain't--an' you can ask anybody if that didn't take some going'!"

  In the darkness of the cabin Casey turned over and heaved a great sigh.On the heels of that came a chuckle.

  "I got t' hand it t' the L. A. traffic cops, Mr. Nolan. They shorelearned me a lot about dodgin'. So now yuh got the hull story. If itwas the sheriff behind me an' if he trails me here, they got noevidence an' you can mebby square it with 'im. You'd know what t' tell'im--which is more'n what Casey Ryan can say."

  Casey fell asleep immediately afterward, but Mack Nolan lay for a longwhile with his eyes wide open and his ears alert for strange sounds inthe gulch. He was a new man in this district, working independently ofsheriff's offices. Casey Ryan was the first man he had confided in;all others were fair game for Nolan to prove honest or dishonest withthe government. The very nature of his business made it so. For whenwhisky runners drove openly in broad daylight through the country withtheir unlawful loads, somewhere along the line officers of the law weresharing the profits. Nolan knew none of them,--by sight. If he carriedthe records of some safely memorized and pigeonholed for future use,that was his own business. Mack Nolan's thoughts were his own and heguarded them jealously and slept with his lips tightly closed. Hewanted no sheriff coming to him for explanation of his movements.Wherefore he listened long, and when he slept his slumber was light.

  At daylight he was up and abroad. Two hours after sunrise Casey awokewith the smell of breakfast in his nostrils. He rolled over andblinked at Mack Nolan standing with his hat on the back of his head anda cigarette between his lips, calmly turning three hot-cakes with akitchen knife. Casey grinned condescendingly. He himself turned hiscakes by the simple process of tossing them in the air a certain kindof flip, and catching them dexterously as they came down. Right therehe decided that Mack Nolan was not after all a real outdoors man.

  "Well, the sheriff didn't arrive last night," Nolan observedcheerfully, when he saw that Casey was awake. "I don't much look forhim, either. Your driving on past the turn to Juniper Wells and comingup that other old road very likely threw him off the track. You musthave been close to the State line then and he gave you up as a bad job."

  "It was a GOOD job!" Casey maintained reaching for his clothes. "Imade 'em think I was headed clean outa the country. If they knowed whoit was at all, they'd know I belong in L. A., and I figured they'dguess I was headed there. They stopped for something this side ofSearchlight an' so I pulls away from 'em a couple of miles. They neverseen where I went to."

  While he washed for breakfast, Casey began to take stock of certainminor injuries.

  "That darned Pete Gibson has got tushes in his mouth like a wild hawg;the kind that sticks out," he grumbled, touching certain skinned placeson his knuckles. "Every time I landed on 'im yesterday I run againstthem tushes uh his'n." But he added with a grin, "They ain't so solidas they was when I met up with 'im. I felt one of 'em give 'fore I gotthrough."

  "Brings the
price of moonshine up a bit, doesn't it?" Nolan suggesteddrily. "I rather think you might better have paid the men their price.A fight is well enough in its way--I'm Irish myself. But as my agent,Ryan, the main idea is to let the law fight for you. Our work ismerely to give the law a chance. I like your not wanting to explain tothe sheriff. Prohibition officers do not explain, as a rule. The lawbehind them does that.

  "And since the price seems to be rather hard on the knuckles--" Heglanced down at Casey's hands and grinned. "--I think it may comecheaper to make the stuff ourselves. Licking two men for threegallons, and getting the officers at your tail light into the bargain,is all right as an experiment; but I don't believe, Ryan, we ought toadopt that as a habit."

  Casey cocked an eye up at him. "Did yuh ever make White Mule, Mr.Nolan?" he asked grimly.

  Nolan laughed his easy little chuckle. "Why, no, Ryan, I never did. Didyou?"

  "Naw. I seen some made once, but I had too much of it inside me at thetime to learn the receipt for it. I'd rather steal it, if it's all thesame to you, Mr. Nolan." His hand went up to the back of his head andmoved forward, although there was no hat to push. "I've lived honestall these years--an', dammit, it's kinda tough to break out withstealin I what yuh don't want! Couldn't we fill them bottles withsomethin' that LOOKS like hootch? Cold tea should get by, Mr. Nolan.It'd be a fine joke on Smilin' Lou."

  "A good joke, maybe--but no evidence. It isn't against the law, Ryan,to have cold tea in your possession. No, it's got to be whisky, andthere's got to be a load of it. Enough to look like business and tempthim or any other member of the gang you happen to meet. If they caughtyou with three gallons, Casey, they'd probably run you in and feel veryvirtuous about it. Nothing for it, I'm afraid. We'll have to becomereal moonshiners ourselves for awhile."

  Casey ate with less appetite after that. Making moonshine did notappeal to him at all. Given his choice, I think he would even preferdrinking it, unhappy as the effect had been on him.

  "We'll need a still, and we'll need the stuff. I'm going to leave youin charge of the camp, Ryan, while I make a trip to Needles. I'lldeputize you to assist me in cleaning up this district. And thisdistrict, Ryan, touches salt water. So if revenge looks good to you,you'll have a fine chance to get even with the bootleggers. And in themeantime, just kill time around camp here while I'm gone. If any oneshows up, you're prospecting."

  That day, doubt-devils took hold of Casey Ryan and plucked at hisbelief. How did he know that Mack Nolan wasn't another bootlegger,wanting to rope Casey in on a job for some fell purpose of his own? Hehad Mack Nolan's word and nothing more. For that matter, he had alsohad young Kenner's word. Kenner had fooled him completely. Mack Nolancould also fool him--perhaps.

  "Well, anyhow, he never claimed to know Bill Masters, and that's apoint in 'is favor. And if it's some dirty work he's up to, he couldamade it shorter than what he's doin'. An' if he's double-crossin'Casey Ryan--well, anyway, Casey Ryan 'll be present at the time an'place when he does it!"

  Upon that comforting thought, Casey decided to trust Mack Nolan untilhe caught him playing crooked; and proceeded to kill time as best hecould.