Buck Peters, Ranchman

by Clarence Edward Mulford and John Wood Clay

  CHAPTER VIII

  TEX JOINS THE ENEMY

  Tex slung a leg over Son John and ambled away from Wayback, in the wakeof Dave. His adroit and unobtrusive observance of Dave had been withoutresults unless there were something suspicious in the long conversationheld with a one-eyed puncher who rode away on a Cyclone-brand pony.Tex, however, was by no means cast down; he could not hope to pick upsomething every day and he already had learned the only quarter fromwhich trouble might come to Buck. He delayed action in the hope thatsomething tangible might turn up; and he fervently hoped that it mightbe before Hopalong found himself foot-loose from the Bar-20. Tex wasquicker with his gun than most men but he possessed a real artist's lovefor a reason why action should occur in a certain way; if he were alsoable to show that it could have occurred in no other way, he found allthe more satisfaction in the setting.

  A loud splash in the nearby river brought his head around in thedirection of the sound; through a break in the foliage a broad patch ofwater, seen dimly in the dusk of the evening, showed rapidly wideningcircles. "Walloper," commented Tex, immediately resolving to emulatethat fish in the morning. "Though I certainly hope old Smiler won'tcome to the water below me for a drink: nice mouthful of mutton I'd makefor his wolf fangs. What in thunder!--" his pony had plunged forward asif spurred. Tex got him in hand and whirled to face the unknown danger.The rush of the river, the steady wind through the trees, the elusivechirp or movement of some bird--only familiar sounds met his ear andthere was still light enough to show only familiar objects. "Why, youwhite-legged, ghost-seeing plug-ugly!" remonstrated Tex. "Who do youthink is riding you? Johnny Nelson? Then you must be looking for alesson on behavior about now. Get along."

  He rode slowly, not wishing to overtake Dave before he settled in TwinRiver. Tex had as much right as Dave to be riding from Wayback but hewished to avoid arousing the faintest hint of suspicion. There was noother place along the trail for Dave to stop, except the LaFrance cabin.Queer how opinions differed regarding the French Rose: from the extremeof all-bad to that of all-good. Judicious Tex, summing up, concludedher to be neither--"Just like any other woman: half heart, quarterintellect, and the balance angel and devil; extra grain of angel and she's good; extra grain of devil and she 's bad." Tex, not knowing Rosepersonally, gave her the benefit of the doubt.

  "If he stops in there I 'll miss him," said Tex. "But he 's bound to goon to Twin from there. If we come together in the trail, it's no harmdone: Dave will never suspect me until he looks into my gun. Bet a hathe thinks I 'm a pretty good friend of his." He chuckled, recalling thearguments for and against Gerken on the night of the shooting. Theconsensus of opinion seemed to be that Dave had been within his rightsbut "some hasty." This was not Tex's opinion. He chuckled again as herecalled the lurid out-spokenness of Sandy McQueen's opinion which hadturned the perfunctory trial into a farce and had kept Twin River on thegrin for two days. "And all is gay when Sandy comes marching home," hehummed. "I 'm glad they found the gun on Dutch. Peck of trouble if hehad n't been heeled. There 's me, just naturally obliged to pull outDave. If he goes under I lose touch with the old thief who stops athome. Funny they don't get at it. There 's enough material in TwinRiver alone to wipe three Double Y's off the map, good as Buck is. Givehim six months more and half Montana could n't do it--because the otherhalf would be fighting _for_ him, Lordy! The old-times! Folks havegrown most surprising slow these days."

  He had left the foot of the farm road half a mile in the rear when heheard the sound of a horse coming up behind him. The darkness hid Texuntil the other was nearly abreast, when he hailed. "He did turn off tosee Rose," reflected Tex, as he returned the greeting and Dave rode up.

  "That you, Comin'?" said Dave. "I been wantin' to see you. Goin'anywhere particular?"

  "No," drawled Tex. "I was just considerin' which of them shanties inTwin 'd have th' most loose money."

  "Bah!" scornfully exclaimed Dave, drawing alongside him. "There ain'tno money in Twin River. You an' me could make a good haul over inWayback but I got somethin' better 'n that. Let's go into Ike's. Ikenever hears nothin' an' all th' rest is deaf, too. I want to talk toyou."

  Ike's was primitive to a degree but once removed from a tent. The logwalls of the low, single room were weather-proofed in several ingeniousways, ranging from mud to bits of broken boxes. The bar was a rough,home-made table, the front and both ends shut in by canvas on which waspainted: "Don't shoot here." Ike was careful either of his legs or hiskegs. A big stove stood in a shallow trough of dirt midway between thebar and the door, accepting salival tributes in winter which developedinto miraculous patches of rust in summer. Several smaller tables,likewise home-made, a number of boxes, and a few very shaky chairscompleted the furnishings. It was the reverse of inviting, even in thebitter cold of winter, but Ike never lacked for customers of a sort andprobably made more money than any one in Twin River. Ike himself was agrizzled veteran of more than fifty years, sober, taciturn, not given tocards but always ready to "shake-'em-up." Dice was his one weakness atany time of the day or night. To be sure, he always won. He had themtrained.

  The regular _habitues_ were a canny lot, tight-lipped, cautious, slow inspeech and in movement, except at a crisis. The opening door was atarget for every eye and not a straight glance in the crowd; each seemedtrying, like the Irishman when he bent his gun-barrel, to make his eyesshoot around a corner. And they all took their liquor alike, squeezingthe glass as if it were a poker hand and they were afraid to show thequality or quantity of the contents. It was usually easy to pick out anoccasional caller or a stranger: he was drunk or on the way to it; Ike'sregulars were never drunk.

  The entry of Dave and Tex was noted in the usual manner. Dave had longbeen recognized as one of their kind. Tex, since his dramatic entryinto Twin River, had shown no displeasing partiality for hard work. Bothwere welcomed therefore, silently or laconically, not to be confoundedwith sullenly. As they sauntered over to an unoccupied corner table,Tex noticed Fanny sitting in a game with Bill Tregloan, both of themmuch the worse for liquor, while their three companions showed thebecoming gravity of sober winners. Fanny closed one of his wide,woman's eyes and nodded to them with a cheerful grin, but Bill was toofar gone to notice anything but his persistent bad luck. "D--n thispoker game," he bellowed, banging a huge fist on the table, "If 't wasNap I might win something, but here I 've been sittin' all night,scatting my money in the say."

  Fanny laughed uproariously but the others eyed him in silentdisapprobation. What "Nap" might be they did not know, but poker wasgood enough for them.

  "What 'll you drink, Comin'?" asked Dave as a preliminary.

  "I ain't drinkin', Dave, not never. But I 'm right ready an' anxious tohear o' that somethin' good you 've got to deal out."

  "Y-e-e-a--well, it's this way," began Dave, sampling his liquor in thecustomary gulp. He set down his glass to ask abruptly: "Got any friendsin Twin River?"

  "Nary friend--nor anywhere else," replied Tex, indifferently. "Don'tneed 'em--can't afford 'em."

  Dave looked hard at Tex. "What about that bunch Fanny travels with?" hesuggested.

  "You said friends," was the significant answer.

  "All right--all th' better. I seen you play a mighty good game o'cards."

  Tex snorted. He could not restrain it. Was it possible Dave was aimingto milk him? "I'm allus willin' to back my play," he declared, drily.

  "You won't have to back it. If yo 're as good as I hopes, I 'll backit. It's this way: I want to back you agin' a man as thinks he canplay. He 's considerable of a dealer--considerable--an' he won't playme because he beats me once an' thinks I 'm no good. He 's got money,a-plenty, an' I don't want a dollar. You keeps what you wins--an' Iwants you to get it all." He turned and called across the room: "Ike,flip us a new deck." The pack in his hands, he faced Tex again."Suppose we plays a few hands an' you gimme a sample o' yore style."


  Tex thrust his hands in his pockets and tipped back in his ricketychair. "Lemme get this right," he demanded. "You backs me to play,pockets th' losses, gives up th' winnin's, all to best th' otherfeller--on'y he must n't win."

  "You got it."

  "On'y he must n't win."

  "That's what I said."

  "Must be a friend o' yourn."

  "Y-e-s," drawled Dave, with a sardonic smile.

  "Who is it?"

  "Peters o' th' Double Y."

  "Ah! I 've heard o' him."

  "An' you an' me an' a lot more 'll hear too d--d much o' him if we don'trun him out. He 's a heap too good for Twin River."

  "How 'll you rope him?"

  "I got a bait--best kind. They allus fall for a woman." Dave'ssneering tones, as he broke open the pack, sorely taxed his companion'sself-control. "What'll we play?" he continued. "Better make it 'stud.'Th' gamer a man is th' quicker he goes broke at stud an' Peters is gameenough."

  Tex dropped back into position and took his hands from his pockets. "Ishine at stud," he remarked softly, taking the deck Dave offered him.The joker was sent spinning across the room to glance from the nose ofFanny who sat sprawlingly asleep, nodding to an empty table; theCornishman, swearing strange oaths, had gone off some time previously;two of the others were renewing the oft-defeated attempt to dice Ike tothe extent of a free drink; the rest of the inmates were attendingstrictly to business and if an occasional oblique glance was aimed atTex and Dave it did not show the curiosity which may have directed it.

  "He must n't win," murmured Tex. The cards rustled in the shuffle.Dave grunted. "An' you must n't win?" Tex inquired.

  "I 'm a-goin' to do all I know how to win," warned Dave.

  "Oh, that o' course," sanctioned Tex. "Shift this table. I likes tosee th' door," he explained.

  Dave complied, looking sharply for some other reason. The lamp on thewall divided its light fairly between them. Dave was satisfied.

  "Is it for love or money?" asked Tex.

  "Might as well make it interestin'," suggested Dave.

  Tex thought for a moment. "No," he dissented, "'Dog eat dog' ain't nogood. But we 'll keep count so you can see how bad you make out."

  It was no game. Tex won as he liked with the deck in his hand and hisremarks on Dave's dealing were neither complimentary nor soothing."Duced bad form, as the Britisher would say," was his plaintiveremonstrance at Dave's first attempt; "you palms th' pack like aprofessional." Sometime later, as he ran his finger nail questioninglyalong the edge of the cards, he shook his head in sorrow: "You shorethumbs 'em bold an' plenteous, Dave," was his caustic comment. And then,querulously: "D--n it, Dave! don't deal me seconds. Th' top card isplenty good enough for me."

  It required very little of this to cross Dave's none too easy temper.He pushed the cards away from him, pleased and annoyed at the same time."You 'll do," he declared, "if you can't clean up Peters there ain't aman in th' country as can." A sudden suspicion struck him. Tex hadreached out with his left hand to pick up the deck. "Where 'd you getthat ring, Comin'? I never seen it afore."

  A swift movement of the fingers under the idly held pack and Texextended his hand, palm up. The band of dark metal, almost unnoticeableon the brown hand, was as plain on the palm side as Dave had seen it tobe on the back of the hand. "Belonged to my wife," said Tex, thecynical undertones in his voice bearing no expression in his face. "Iwear it on our wedding anniversary."

  "Excuse _me_," was Dave's hasty apology. He pushed back from the table."Keep in trainin', Comin'. I 'll see Rose an' start things rollin'.Jean will take you in as an old friend when we 're ready. We must n'tbe too thick; Peters might hear of it. Good-night. I 'm goin' toroost."

  "Night, Dave." Tex sat fingering the cards with something very likewonder on his face. "What sort of a babe-in-arms is this for deviltry?He used to have better ideas. The cold weather up here must havecongealed his brains. Break Buck Peters at stud! Maybe he plans to getus shooting. I 'll bet a hat old Schatz never hatched that scheme." Hetook the cards over to Ike and strolled out, unseating Fanny with onesweep of his foot as he went.

  Fanny arose to his feet, looking for trouble. He was sober in his legsbut his ideas crossed. No one being near him, he surveyed his backless,up-ended chair with blinking ferocity. "Cussed, buckin' pinto! Think Ican't ride you, huh? Watcher bet?" He righted the chair and took aflying seat, all in one movement. "Huh! Ride anythin' on four laigs,"he boasted. Lulled by this confidence in his horsemanship, his headbegan to nod again, in sleep.

  Tex ambled over to the Why-Not where his entry was greeted withboisterous invitations to a game. Four bright boys had come over fromthe Fort and were cleaning up the crowd. Tex was ashamed of them, andsaid so, refusing to go to the assistance of such helpless tenderfeet.He borrowed paper and pencil of Dutch Fred and rapidly composed a noteto Buck. Much adroit manoeuvring secured the services of CheyenneCharley, not yet too drunk to understand the repeated instructions ofTex. Thus it came about that Buck, without knowing how it got there,found on his table a communication of absorbing interest, signed: "AFriend." It read:

  Buck Peters: Don't play cards with strangers, especially stud poker.Dave Owens aims to have Rose rope you into a frame-up. John is in it,too. Mighty easy to plug you in a row.

  "A Friend," mused Buck. "An' Rose is to rope me into a crooked game. I'm d--d if I believe it." He made as if to tear the paper but changedhis mind. "No, I 'll just keep this. Mebby there 'll be more of 'em.Jake!" he roared.

  "--lo!" came the answering roar.

  "Who's been here this mornin'?"

  "Where?"

  "At th' ranch."

  A huge, slouching figure with a remarkable growth of hair appeared inthe doorway. Jake was a cook because he was too big to ride and toolazy to dig. He ran his fingers through his hair, considering. "At th'ranch?" he repeated. "There was Pickles an' Ned, o' course; and CockMurray come over to ask--"

  "I don't mean them, I mean some stranger."

  "Stranger? Where?"

  "Right here in this room."

  "Ther' ain't been no stranger. What'd he do?"

  "Do? Why--why, he stole all th' silver, that's what. It's gettin' so I'll have to lock up all th' valuables every time I go out, yo 're thatinterested in yore cookin'. Course, you need th' practice, I agree.Sling on th' chuck, you blind, deaf elephant. I got to get."

  Jake rapidly retreated. In the kitchen he paused and ran his fingersthrough his hair. He looked scared. "Stole th' silver! Lock up th'valuables! He must be loco." Whereupon he stole out of the back doorand concealed two stones in his clothes, where they would be handy. Atclose quarters he was a very grizzly for strength but if Buck shouldstart to shoot him up from a distance, he did not purpose to bealtogether at a disadvantage. Thus fortified he prepared to serve themeal.