Buck Peters, Ranchman

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by Clarence Edward Mulford and John Wood Clay


  CHAPTER XV

  THE SLAUGHTER OF THE INNOCENTS

  The round-up was still under way when Cock Murray was taken off and sentto Twin River in a chuck wagon to get provisions for the ranch. He hadloaded his wagon and left town behind him when he saw Dave riding hardto overtake him. He drew rein and nodded when the horseman pulled upbeside him.

  "Howd'y, Dave."

  "Howd'y, Murray," replied Dave. "Spring round-up over yet?"

  "Nope; 'bout half."

  "Itch all cured good?"

  "Can't find no more signs of it. That dippin' play was a winner an'it's a good thing to remember."

  "I 've got a little job for you an' Slow Jack," Dave remarked, after amoment's thought.

  "Yeh? Hope it's better'n some o' yore schemes."

  "What do you mean? I never had no schemes."

  "All right--my mistake," drawled Murray. "What's th' new one?"

  "New nothin'. I just want you an' Slow Jack to drive a couple o'thousand head up in th' Hog Back country some 'rs an' hold 'em hid tillI can take care o' 'em."

  "If yo 're goin' to start up in business for yoreself, I 'd keep awayfrom th' Hog Back," replied Murray gravely. "Better try down on th'southeast corner. There ain't no itch hangin' 'round there."

  "Business nothin'!" snapped Dave, not liking his companion's levity. "I've got somethin' in my head that 'll make a fortune for you an' SlowJack. I don't want no profits--just th' joy o' takin' a good punch atPeters 'll do for me. But you two ought to split 'bout twenty thousanddollars a-tween you."

  "Music to my ears!" chuckled Murray. "Slow Jack's goin' to work on asalary basis on _this_ job--th' profits 'll be mine. Whereabouts isthis gold mine located, did you say?"

  Dave did not heed him but continued hurriedly: "There 's a good pastureatween th' Hog Back an' th' river, an' th' only way to it or out of itis up that ravine. You an' Slow Jack can drive cows to it whenever yougets a chanct, an' a couple o' ropes acrost th' ravine 'll hold 'em in.When you get a couple o' thousand there we 'll drive 'em north o' th'Cyclone's line to Rankin, put 'em on th' cars there an' get 'em southinto Wyoming. There 's good money in it, Murray."

  The driver was staring at his companion, blank amazement on his face."Gosh! That sounds easy! 'Bout as easy as me an' you capturin' th' Fortan' makin' th' Government pay us a big war indemnity. Slow Jack 's goin'to get th' wages an' profits, too. I 'm too generous to cut in an'spoil his chance to make a fortune. I suppose we 're goin' to tie th'herd to balloons an' get 'em to Rankin that way?"

  "You collect th' herd an' I 'll attend to all th' rest o' it," declaredDave. "I 've got this thing all worked out an' it's goin' through."

  "Can't be did, Dave," emphatically replied the driver, dazed by thesigns of insanity manifested by his companion.

  "You say that because it ain't never been done," retorted Dave, angrily."It _can_ be done, an' I 'm goin' to do it. Put that in yore pipe."

  "All right--you ought to know," responded Murray, tactfully. "Who areth' miracle-men that are goin' to get th' herd off that table-land an'to Rankin without bein' seen or leavin' a trail?"

  "Big Saxe, th' hunchback, is one," Dave explained. "Th' trail we 'llleave ain't botherin' us any. They won't be missed till it's too lateto look for tracks--an' by that time th' cows 'll be sold."

  Murray thought of one objection that would kill the plan without mercy:the railroad was not in the habit of accepting unaccredited cows forshipment; curiosity would be shown as to the brand, where it came from,who owned it, and other pertinent facts. But Dave was so hopeful, soearnest, that Murray decided to talk the matter over with Schatz beforedispelling Dave's dream.

  "Well, that's true, Dave," he soberly replied. "When you think it overca'm like, it ain't so plumb foolish. Me an' Slow Jack 'll see what wecan do--let you know as soon as we can. I got to poke along. But say,Dave; it's shore death to anybody tryin' to fool with _Cyclone_ cowsalong th' river--tell th' boys so they won't try to throw over any morescabby cattle on us. Kinkaid is some peevish 'bout his north rangegettin' th' itch. Got any more plans you want to tell about? Allright--don't get mad at _me_, Dave; I 'm only foolin'. So long."

  Murray had crossed the north line of his ranch before he emerged fromhis trance. Then he shook himself, laughed and looked around, urgingthe team to livelier efforts. He nursed his secret until after dark andthen slipped away from the ranch and struck out toward Twin River. Whenhe had gone a mile in this direction he wheeled sharply and urged hispony toward the trail along the Little Jill. Arriving at the Schatzdomicile he reconnoitred a little and then slipped up to the kitchendoor and drummed lightly on it. Schatz opened it and dragged the visitorinside.

  "You must nod come to see me more as iss necessary," began the German."It iss such carelessness as puts peoples in chails. Vat iss it distime?"

  Murray, grinning, unfolded Dave's plans to the astonished German, whocould only grunt his surprise and disgust. Suddenly Schatz brightenedand a faint twinkle came into his eye. "Dot iss a goot plan, Murray. Avery goot plan. _Aber_ it goes too far. Dose railroad peoples vouldspoil it quick. You get der herd like Dave says, more if you can; undhold it till _I_ say somet'ing. Neffer mind vat Dave say--he iss _einverruchter Mensch_. But ven _I_ say somet'ing, den you do it._Verstanden_?"

  "All right, Schatz," agreed Murray, smiling. "I 'll back yore play toth' limit, every time. But what 'll I say to Dave when he getsanxious?"

  "He von't ged anxious. I vill speak der vord before he haf time to gedanxious. I vill tell vat to do mit dot herd, und it von't be vat Davevants."

  "Then I 'll tell Slow Jack that th' collection takes place. Anythingelse?"

  "_Nein_--careful you go. Alvays you must be careful. _Goot nacht_!"and the door closed quickly.

  "Ach! Dot Dave!" ejaculated Schatz, his hands upraised.

  * * * * *

  Slow Jack must have been told of Schatz's wishes, because during theweek following Murray's visit to the German's house, cattle had beendisappearing from the southwestern part of the range; this was notstrange enough to cause worry even if it had been observed, because cowsgo where they please; and it was not observed by any one but Cock Murrayand Slow Jack. The fence, extending to within a short distance of thesouth line, was regarded as barrier enough to keep the cattle off theinfected range, and Buck gave no particular thought to it. Slow Jackrode along the fence every few days to see that there were no breaks init and as Cock Murray had the south line under his care, it was an easymatter to round up small herds and drive them over the Hog Back, downthe ravine on the river side, and hold them on the plateau pasture bythe means Dave had suggested. The grass was heavy and the waterplentiful along the line patrolled by Murray and there were always largenumbers of cows grazing there--so many, in fact, that those driven offcould not be missed under ordinary circumstances. Thus the hidden herdgrew rapidly and it was not long before a large herd grazed close to theedge of the precipitous cliffs frowning down on the cold, hard-lookingBlack Jack.

  Murray, fussing around the horse corral, had put in a hard day's ridingand had no desire to stray far from the bunk-house that chilly, windynight. He had been engaged in driving cattle onto the range he had beenthinning, so as to cover the missing cows, and over five hundred extrahead grazed near the springs that made the swampy headquarters of thecreek.

  Slow Jack was getting nervous because Schatz had not been heard from andhe was grouchy and touchy even to his partner in the business on hand.He and Murray would be likely to have unpleasant questions asked of themif the herd should be discovered. They were in charge of that part ofthe range and it would not be easy to excuse the presence of so manycows on the infected section. The fence was intact and if it were not,then it would be squarely up to them; Buck would be profanely curioushow it was that a respectable herd had managed to get past Murray and goaround the end of the fence. And it would be hard to expl
ain how thecattle willingly left the best grass on the ranch and wandered up theHog Back, all finding the ravine and herding on the cliff-top pasture.And if the rope or the tracks of the two punchers' horses should beseen, gun-play would follow with deadly certainly.

  "D--n that Dutchman!" growled Slow Jack to Murray, as they met andstrolled away a short distance; "Seems like we ain't got enough cows upthere to suit th' hog. He wants that pasture covered with 'em, Ireckon. Word or no word, them cows has got to get back on th' range.An' th' itch is among 'em, too, Murray."

  Murray smoked in silence for a while and then looked up, a frown on hisface. "Smiler has got to be quick. Dave, th' fool, was out to see meagain to-day. I asked him when he was goin' to rustle that bunch an' hesays he 's got it all fixed--mebby th' first black night. Is it blackto-night?" he asked, ironically.

  "Black as h--l!" growled Slow Jack. "If Dave beats th' ol' man to it,an' gets away with that herd, I 'll be plumb tickled to death. An' ifhe gets away with it good an' clean, without bein' caught, it 'll godown in th' history o' cattle-stealin' as th' greatest miracle since th'Dead Sea was walked on. Holy Gripes! Would n't it be a sensation?"

  "Th' laurels will remain with th' Dead Sea," grunted Murray. "Dave 'sshore goin' to be fertilizer for th' daisies some o' these days if hedon't get sane." After a moment he growled: "An' if he don't stop comin'to see me like he has, Smiler 'll have to dig up another ass to befather to."

  "He was lookin' for me, yesterday," grinned Slow Jack, "but I seen himfirst. He ain't goin' to _sic_ no lead _my_ way if I can help it."

  "Jack, did you ever figger out why Smiler lets Dave mess around like hedoes?" suddenly asked Murray. "Th' Dutchman is one clever individual,but every clever crook makes one mistake that ropes him. I herebyprophesy that Dave is Smiler's mistake an' will make th' Dutchman lose.Want to bet on it?"

  "What you allus lookin' for shore things for?" jeered Jack. "You ain'tgot no sportin' blood in you! In course I know it--an' that's just th'reason I've got my stuff ready to move quick an' my trail all mappedout. I might want to leave before breakfast some day. Tell you onething--_you_ can drive cows over th' Hog Back but I 'm _all through_!D--n if I drive another one!"

  "I 'm th' good little boy, too, from now on," replied Murray. "An' I 'mgoin' to be awful busy farther east on that line. Savvy? I ain't goin'to be able to even guess how they got over th' Hog Back, an' I 'll taketh' blame for bein' careless. I 'd ruther lose my job than house anylead under my skin. Aw! I 'm goin' in an' get some sleep."

  "Me, too; I 'll come right soon," and Slow Jack drifted off into thedarkness as his companion started for the bunk-house.

  When Slow Jack entered the bunk-house half an hour after Murray, hepaused in the door and looked at the western sky, where lightningzigzagged occasionally. The barely audible roll of thunder told him howfar off the storm was and he noticed that the wind was blowing lesssteadily, coming in gusts from varying points. Even while he stood, thesound of the thunder increased in volume and the long, thin lightningreached out nearer to him, a livid whip that lashed the heavens intoroaring anger.

  "Huh! Reckon Spring is shore nuff here now," he muttered. "Fust reallightnin' I seen this year." Five minutes later he was asleep.

  * * * * *

  The Hog Back loomed up like a condensation of the surrounding night, itshuge bulk magnified and made soft in its rugged outlines. A restlesswind scurried like a panic-stricken animal, sighing through the brushand whispering through the rocks. At intervals the silence was sointense that the scraping of a twig, yards away, could be plainly heard;and at other times the bellow of a steer would have been lost in a fewrods.

  Something moved across the plain, slowly and carefully as if feeling itsway, and toiled up the precarious trail, rolling pebbles clatteringdown; in the noise of their fall was lost the soft thudding that markedthe course of the moving smudge. The lightning in the western skyflashed nearer and gave brief illumination of the scene. Four men rodesingle file up the dark trail, silent, intent, wary, the leader pickinghis way as though he knew it well; in reply to a low-voiced questionfrom his nearest companion, he stretched out an abnormally long arm in asharp gesture. He did not like to have his ability doubted.

  Reaching the top, the procession strung along and finally dipped into aravine, following the steeply slanting water-course until stopped by alariat stretched across the way. Tossing aside the rope, the leader ledthe force onto the walled-in pasture where each man went swiftly to workwithout instructions. The fire at the leader's feet, fanned by the highwind, leaped from him through the sun-cured bunches of grass in arapidly widening circle, the heavy smoke rolling down upon the restlesscattle in pungent clouds, sparks streaming through them. Every cow onthe pasture was on its feet, pawing and snorting with fear at this mostdreaded of all enemies. While they stood, seemingly hypnotized for amoment by the low flames, the darkness to the east of them was streakedwith spurts of fire and the cracks of revolvers on their flank sent themthundering toward the river. The confusion of the stampede wasindescribable as the front ranks, sensing the edge of the cliff, triedin vain to check itself and hold back against the press of the avalancheof terror-stricken animals behind. The change was magical--one moment afrenzied mass of struggling cows lighted grotesquely by the burninggrass, and then only the edge of the cliff and the swishing grayness ofthe river below. The wind was blowing the flames toward the edge of thecliff and they would die from lack of material upon which to feed,though the four cared little about that. Their horses stumbled withthem along the ravine, leaving behind a blackened plain across whichsparks were driven by each gust of wind, to glow brilliantly and die.Below, once more wrapped in impenetrable darkness, swished the BlackJack, cold, cruel, deep, and fugitive, its scurrying, frightened crosscurrents whispering mysteriously as they discussed the tragedy.Suddenly the rain deluged everything as if wrathful at the pitiableslaughter and eager to wash out the stain of it.

  * * * * *

  In the middle of the forenoon of the following day Slow Jack loomed upin the fog of the driving rain and the vapors arising from the earth andslid from his saddle in front of the ranch house, his hideous yellowslicker shining as though polished. Buck opened the door andinstinctively stepped back to avoid the wet gust that assailed him."There 's a lot o' cows floating in the backwater o' th' Jack where th'creek empties in--I roped one an' drug it ashore. Just plain drowned, Ireckon. There was signs of itch, too," Slow Jack reported.

  Buck hastened into his storm clothes, got Monroe from the corral, andstarted through the storm to see for himself. When he reached the riverhe saw a score of Double Y cows drifting in circles in the backwater,and at intervals one would swing into the outer current and be caught inthe pull of the rushing river to go sailing toward Twin. The stream wasrising rapidly now, its gray waters turning brown and roiled. SendingMonroe to follow the stream to town, he and Slow Jack rode close to thewater toward the hazy Hog Back. When he met Monroe at the ranch housethat afternoon he learned that most of the inhabitants of Twin Riverwere swarming upon the point behind Ike's saloon, busily engaged inroping and skinning the cattle as fast as they drifted by; the countvaried from one hundred to five hundred, and he knew that the fight wason again.

  There had been no clues found upon which to base action against theperpetrators. True, the pasture behind the Hog Back had been burnedsince he last saw it, but Slow Jack's tardy memory recalled that onemorning, several days before, he had detected the smell of grass smokein the air. He was going to investigate it but hesitated to go throughthe quarantined range for fear of bringing back the itch. During theday the smell had disappeared and he had seen no signs of smoke at anytime. He had meant to speak of it when he returned to the bunk-housebut had forgotten, as usual.

  When left alone Buck stared out of the window, not noticing that thestorm had ceased, burning with rage at his absolute helplessness. Theloss of
the cows was not great enough to cripple him seriously but thisblow, following hard upon the other, showed him what little chance hehad of making the Double Y a success without a large outfit of tried andtrusted men. Even while he looked at the plain with unseeing eyes hiscattle might be stolen or driven to death in the swollen waters ofeither river--and he was powerless to stop it.

  To his mind again leaped the recollection of Ned's warning regardingSchatz: he was a "hard nut," Ned had said. Buck was beginning to thinkhe would have to crack him on suspicion. He looked in the direction ofthe German's cabin and a curse rumbled in his throat.

  Whitby opened the door and reported that everything was all right on hispart of the range and asked for orders for the next day. After a fewminutes' conversation he moved on to the bunk-house, troubled and ill atease at the appearance of his employer. In a way Whitby had certainsmall privileges that were denied to the other members of the outfit.He was a gentleman, as Buck had instantly realized, and he could maketime pass very rapidly under most conditions. He paused now and finallydecided to thrust his company upon Buck for the evening; in his opinionBuck would be all the better for company. He had almost reached theranch house door when behind him there was a sound of furious gallopingand Bow-Wow flung himself from his horse and burst into the room excitedand fuming, Whitby close upon his heels.

  "They 've shot a lot of cows on th' southeast corner, close to th' Jill.I 'd 'a' been in sooner only I went huntin' for 'em. Lost their trackswhen they swum th' river. Three of 'em did it, an' they dropped nighonto fifty head." Winded as he was, Bow-Wow yet found breath for astring of curses that appeared to afford him little relief.

  A look came into Buck's face that told of a man with his back to thewall. The piling on of the last straw was dangerously near at hand.His fingers closed convulsively around the butt of his Colt and heswayed in his tracks. No one ever knew how close to death Whitby andBow-Wow were at that moment, by what a narrow margin the range wasspared ruthless murder at the hands of a man gone fighting mad. TheTexan was cut to the heart by this last news, and only a swift reactionin the form of the habitual self-restraint of thirty years saved himfrom running amuck. The grayness of his face gave way to its usualcolor, only the whipcord veins and the deep lines telling of the savagebattle raging in the soul of the man. He waved the two men away andpaced to and fro across the room, fighting the greatest battle of hiseventful life. One man against unknown enemies who shot in the dark;his outfit was an unknown quantity and practically worse than none atall, since he had to trust it to a certain extent. He thought that NedMonroe was loyal, but his judgment might have become poor because of thestrain he had undergone; and was not Monroe one who had lost when theranch was turned over to its rightful owners? Bow-Wow was more likely tobe honest than otherwise, but he had no proof in the puncher's favor.Chesty Sutton had no cause to be a traitor, but the workings of thehuman mind cause queer actions at times. Cock Murray and Slow Jackcould be regarded as enemies, but there was not enough proof to convictthem: they had been in charge of the western part of the ranch when theherd had been stampeded into the Black Jack--yet Buck realized that twomen could hardly handle so large a tract of land; and again, thestampede had occurred at night while they were asleep in the bunkhouse.If he got rid of every man he could find reason to doubt, he would haveno outfit to handle the routine work of the ranch. There remained Jakeand Whitby. The cook could be dismissed as of no account one way or theother, since he was a fool at best and never left the ranch house formore than a few minutes at a time. The Englishman seemed to be loyalbut there was no positive assurance of it; while he had undoubtedlykilled the itch, it was so dangerous a plague that every man's handshould be turned against it.

  When he tried to reason the matter out he came to the conclusion he hadreached so often before: the only man in Montana whom he trustedabsolutely was Buck Peters. If he had some of his old outfit, or evenHopalong, Red, or Lanky, one man in whom he could place absolute trust,he felt he could win out in the end--and he would have them. He ceasedhis pacing to and fro and squared his shoulders: He would give hisoutfit one last tryout and if still in doubt of its loyalty, he wouldsend a message to Hopalong and have him pick out a dozen men from theBar-20 and near-by ranches and send them up to the Double Y. Lucas,Bartlett, and Meeker could spare him a few men each, men friendly tohim. It would be admitting preliminary defeat to do this but theresults would justify the means.

  When he thought he had mastered himself and was becoming calm andself-possessed, Chesty Sutton and the foreman entered with troubledlooks on their faces. Monroe spoke: "Chesty reports he found a dozencows lyin' in a heap at th' bottom of Crow Canyon, and Murray says th'fence has been cut an' stripped o' wire for a mile on th' north end."

  Buck lost himself in the fury of rage that swept over him at this news.The fence had been intact that noon when he rode out to look over thefloating cows in the Jack; this blow in daylight told him that thebattle was being forced from several points at once; and again herealized how absolutely helpless he was--there was no hope now. WhenNed and Chesty returned to the bunk-house, drawing meagre satisfactionfrom the clearing weather, they left behind them a man broken in spirit,weak from fruitless anger, who shook his upraised arms at Providence andcursed every man in Montana. A desperate idea entered his head: hewould force the fighting. He slipped out of the corral, roped his horseand led it around back of the ranch house, where he tethered it andreturned to the house to wait for night. Night would see him atSchatz's cabin, there to choke out the truth and strike his first blow.

  Jake came in, muttering something about lights and supper, to retreatsilently at the curt dismissal. The long shadows stole into the room,enveloping the brooding figure, and deepened into dark. The time wascome and Buck arose and went out to his horse. With his hand on thepicket he paused and listened. Across the Jill a broad moon wasbeginning to cast its light and from the same direction, a long way off,came the sound of singing. The singer was coming toward him and Buckstepped into the house again to await his arrival. He might be thebearer of some message.

  While he paced restlessly the singing died down and in a few minutes thesqueaking of a vehicle caught his ear. He wondered who cared to driveover that trail when there were so many good saddle horses to be had forthe asking and he started toward the door to see. Suddenly he stopped asif shot and gripped his hat with all his strength as another song cameto his ears. He doubted his senses and feared he was going crazy, hopingagainst hope that he heard aright. Who in Montana could know that song!

  "'Th' cows go grazin' o'er th' lea-- Pore Whiskey Bill, pore Whiskey Bill. An' achin' thoughts pour in on me Of Whiskey Bill. Th' sheriff up an' found his stride, Bill's soul went shootin' down th' slide-- How are things o'er th' Great Divide, Oh, Whiskey Bill?'

  "Hello th' house! Hey, Buck! Buck! _O_, Buck! Whoa, blame you--thinkI'm a fool tenderfoot? Hey, Buck! BUCK!"

  Buck leaped to the door in one great bound and ran toward the creepingbuckboard, yelling like an Indian. The bunk-house door flew open and themen tumbled through it, guns in hand, and sprinted toward the point oftrouble. Bow-Wow led and close upon his heels ran Whitby, with Murray aclose third. When the leader got near enough he saw two men wrestlingnear a buckboard and he manoeuvred so as to insert himself into thefracas at the first opportunity. Then he snorted and backed off inprofound astonishment, colliding with the eager Englishman, to the painof both. The wrestlers were not wrestling but hugging; and a woman inthe buckboard was laughing with delight. Bow-Wow shook his head as ifto clear it and began to slip back toward the bunk-house. This wasagainst all his teachings and he would have no part in it. The idea oftwo cowmen hugging each other!

  Whitby strolled after and overtook the muttering puncher. "I fancythat's one of those Texans he 's been talking about; or, rather, two ofthem. Perhaps we shall see some frontier law up here now--and God knowsit is time."

  Slow Jack veered off a
nd swore in his throat. "_Texas_ law, huh? We 'llsend him back where he come from, in a box!" he growled.

  He stopped when he heard Buck's laughing words, and sneered: "HopalongCassidy an' his wife, eh? She 'll be his widder if he cuts in _this_game. But I wonder if any more o' them terrible Texas killers is comin'up? Huh! Let 'em come--that's all."

 

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