House of Winslow 14 The Valiant Gunman

by Gilbert, Morris

  The dust of the two riders in front of him drifted back, settling on his face, and when he came to the turn to the west, he noted the trail they left. Two miles down that road, he came to a small creek lined with alders. Dismounting, he loosed the cinch of his saddle and let the horse enjoy a leisurely drink. It was indicative of Winslow that he would be so considerate of a horse. Most men would only have let their horse drink briefly, then jerked his head up and gone on their way. He had learned to take time in small doses, and now he relaxed as Duke snorted and drank noisily, enjoying the shade and the sight of the hills that lifted off to his right. A rider was approaching from that direction, and his attention sharpened at once. He was surprised to see it was a woman, and when she drew near she stopped her horse on the far side of the creek and studied him. He removed his hat—a gesture she noted at once.

  She was riding a fine gray mare with a pure white mane, and she was dressed in a light green divided skirt and a darker green blouse. She examined him frankly, her black eyes going over him in a practiced manner. Her dark hair was bound into a single coil that hung down her back, and she wore a low-crowned white hat with a narrow brim.

  “Looking for Arrow?” she asked suddenly.

  Dan nodded. “Yes. Down this road, isn’t it?”

  “About four miles.” There was something almost masculine about her manner, at least in the steadiness of her gaze. She was, Winslow saw at once, accustomed to the company of men. “I’m Diane Head,” she said. “Come along and I’ll take you to the house.”

  Winslow cinched his horse’s girth snugly, swung into the saddle, and crossed the creek to where she was waiting. She turned her mare, and the two of them galloped along the dusty road, sending up more fine dust.

  “I’m Dan Winslow,” he said. She turned her head at once, giving him a sharp look. He smiled, adding, “Yes, Miss Head. I’m the curly wolf with the long white teeth you’ve been hearing about.” There was a flicker in her dark eyes that told him he’d been discussed, and he added, “A face to scare the children with, a voice like a rough file, and no good through and through.”

  Diane allowed a slight smile to touch her lips, then asked, “What’s the other side of the picture?”

  “Isn’t any.”

  She nodded, amused at his openness. “Just as well you think so then.” When he didn’t answer she said, “I’m a little surprised to find you headed for Arrow. Some of our hands have been breathing fire and brimstone at the mention of your name. Good thing I’m along, Mr. Winslow. They’re a pretty tough bunch, and you might not like the reception they’ve got planned.”

  He looked up, traced the flight of a high-flying hawk, then said softly, “Why, Miss Head, each day brings its troubles and a man seldom has a warning. Sometimes he has to make an answer when things fall through.”

  “What if his answer’s not good enough?”

  “In that case, he has to hold to his answer until the sky falls in—which is about the extent of my philosophy, I reckon.”

  Diane Head sat in her saddle easily, thinking of what she had heard about Dan Winslow—and was perplexed. Her father had described him as an arrogant boaster, and Deuce Longly had said worse. Ash had been more cautious, saying that Winslow was a tough one, not to be discounted.

  What none of them had mentioned was how fine-looking he was, but she knew that only a woman would take notice of that. He is a handsome thing, she thought, stealing a glance at him. But he doesn’t seem to know it—not like most men would. She waited for him to show an interest in her and was piqued when he did not.

  “What happened at your ranch? You have a woman there, I understand.”

  Dan surmised that she put the matter in those words to anger him, and he was amused. “My partner’s daughter is there. She’s fifteen. I had to correct Ollie when he grew impertinent.”

  “I saw the gash in his head where you ‘corrected’ him, Mr. Winslow,” Diane answered. “You understand he won’t forget what you did?”

  “I hope not,” Dan said mildly. “Miss Head, you don’t really have to ride with me. I can find the ranch, and your father wouldn’t like you to be in my company.”

  His words angered her, and she shook her head in an imperious gesture, saying quickly, “My father knows I can take care of myself.”

  “In that, Miss Head, he’s correct. But he probably wouldn’t like your choice of society.”

  Diane thought she caught a sly note of cynicism in his voice. She rode beside him for a few moments, then asked, “What will you do if you can’t find your partner? I understand you’ve found a few strays from the herd he brought from Texas—but you can’t make a ranch on those, can you?”

  “I’ll find the cattle. But I’d rather find my partner. He’s a good friend, and Rosa needs him.”

  “I hope you do,” she said at once. “It must be very hard on you—and on the daughter.”

  Dan turned to face her and saw that the remark was genuine. She was, he decided, a strong-willed young woman, spoiled by good looks and wealth—yet he noted that her lips were gentle as she spoke, and it made him like her more. “That’s kind of you, Miss Head,” he said quietly.

  She grew rosy, as if he had paid her a great compliment, and turned the conversation to a neutral ground. By the time they rode up to the headquarters of Arrow about twenty minutes later, she had grown easy in his company. As they crossed to the big house, four of Arrow’s crew appeared and formed a line across their way. Two of them, Winslow saw, were the punchers he’d spoken to in town; the other two were Deuce Longly and Ollie Peace.

  It was Ollie who called out, “Get off that horse, Winslow!” But it was Diane Head who said angrily, “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “You don’t know this joker, Miss Head,” Longly protested. “He jumped Ollie and me—”

  “Deuce, get to work,” Diane snapped, her eyes flashing. “And take the rest of these gentlemen of leisure with you.” When she saw them hesitate, she cried out, “Do you hear me? Get to work or get off the ranch!”

  At that moment Ash Caudill walked out of the bunkhouse and called out, “Do as she says, all of you!” He came to stand in front of the pair as the hands moved sullenly away, then said, “Sorry about that, Dan. Get down and come into the house.”

  Winslow dismounted, and as he tied his horse to the rail, said, “Sorry to get you caught up in my troubles, Miss Head.”

  “Call me Diane,” she replied, and he saw that she was still angry. Turning to Ash, she said, “If you can’t keep the men in hand, I’ll do it myself!”

  Her words caused Caudill’s head to jerk, and he flushed angrily. When he spoke, Dan saw, it was only with effort that he was able to maintain any semblance of ease. “Why, I wouldn’t have let them jump on a guest, Diane,” he said finally. Then he turned to face Winslow. “Dan, I’ve been wanting to talk to you. Come and sit down.”

  “Can’t do it right now, Ash,” Dan said, smiling to take the edge off his refusal. “Got some chores to do. Just stopped by to tell you that I appreciate the way you moved your stock off my graze.”

  The previous day three Arrow hands had appeared, cut the vented cattle out, and moved the Arrow stock away from Circle W range. It had surprised Dan, and he’d come expressly to make it plain that he appreciated the gesture.

  Ash nodded eagerly. “Why, Dan, it was only right. We were wrong to vent your brands in such a hurry, but we just figgered they’d wandered off from some herd. If we find any more, I’ve told the boys to drive them to your place.”

  “Appreciate it, Ash,” Dan said. “You can tell Mr. Head I’m grateful.”

  “Sure, Dan, I’ll do that. How about you come over later and you and him and me can sit down and talk some. He’ll be back in three days.”

  “Be happy to.” Dan turned to the young woman. “Thanks for keeping the wolves from chewing me up, Diane.” He mounted and with a smile and a wave pushed Duke to a fast gallop as he left the yard.

  Diane watched him go, t
hen said, “He’s not like I thought he’d be, Ash.”

  Caudill glanced at her, catching something in her tone that made him ask, “What did you expect?”

  “Just another hand. But he’s more than that, isn’t he, Ash?” She caught his look and was taken by an impish desire to tease the man. “Why didn’t you tell me he was so good-looking?”

  “Didn’t notice.”

  “Well, he is,” Diane nodded emphatically, then added, “Tell Deuce and those others to leave him alone.”

  Her command didn’t sit well with Caudill. “I’m the foreman here, Diane. I’ll take care of the hands.”

  “See you do it, then,” she snapped. She liked Ash Caudill, but there was a streak in him that had made her keep him at arm’s length. She turned and walked into the house, leaving him to watch her, anger glinting in his eyes. Then he cursed and moved toward the bunkhouse, wishing he’d never set eyes on Dan Winslow.

  ****

  “Did you find out anything about my father, Dan?”

  “No, Rosa, but I talked to Sheriff Rider,” Dan said. “He knows everybody in the territory, and he promised to ask around.”

  “He must have left some kind of a trace,” Sid put in. “We know he got as far as this valley.”

  Dan had been met by the pair as soon as he returned from the Arrow ranch, and now the three of them were eating the dinner Sid had put together—barbecued beef ribs and beans. They had moved into the house, giving Rosa one of the bedrooms while the two men shared the other. But all of them were uneasy, feeling the lack of permanence about the thing.

  Dan finished eating and stood up. “I’m going to make a few calls.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Sid said instantly.

  “No, you stay here and watch the place. I’m just going to do some riding, visit around and see what I can pick up. But while I’m—” He broke off, glanced out the window, and at once moved to put on his gun belt before going out onto the porch. Sid grabbed a rifle and limped after him.

  Two men on horseback were approaching, and they had brought some cattle, which they now left milling around. “Hello the house!” one of them hailed, lifting his hand in a friendly gesture.

  Dan let them approach, then said, “C’mon in. Beans in the pot.”

  The two men dismounted, and one of them answered for both. “We done et. You Winslow?”

  “I’m Winslow. This is Sid Kincaid—Miss Rosa Mann, my partner’s daughter.”

  “I’m Gus Miller—and this here is Dave Orr.” Miller was a short man with black hair and hard black eyes, who spoke in a husky voice. “Heard about you moving in. Brought some of your cattle back that drifted on my range a while back—fourteen head with a Circle W brand.”

  Orr spoke up at once, adding, “I found twelve, Winslow. May be a few more, but this was all I could find.”

  Dan said, “Why, that’s handsome of you both! Come in for coffee at least, and maybe some pie.”

  Soon the two visitors were seated at the table, eating apricot pie and drinking coffee. Orr was saying, “Ole Gunderson was a good friend of mine. I wanted to buy this place, but he took off before I had a chance.” Then he grinned wryly. “Well, to tell the truth, I couldn’t have bought it, anyway. But I guess Arrow would have.”

  “I don’t expect they would,” Gus Miller grunted. “It was easier for them to run Ole off. That way they got his graze without paying for it.” He chewed stolidly on the pie, then said, “Your partner, he brought the herd from Texas?”

  “Nearly three hundred head,” Winslow nodded. “You ever meet up with him?”

  Both men shook their heads, and Miller said, “I’ve seen a few of these vented Circle W cows scattered around, but nothing like three hundred head. I reckon your partner—”

  Dan cut in quickly, knowing what Miller was about to say. “I’ll be doing some hunting. I’m hoping to find him and the cattle.”

  Miller realized that Winslow had cut him off to save the feelings of the daughter. “Sure, I’ll keep my eye out, and we’ll pass the word around.”

  “Would you draw me out a rough map?” Dan asked. “Might save me some trouble.”

  “Might save you from getting shot,” Miller grinned. He took a piece of paper that Rosa found, sketched a map on it, pointing out the ranches and homesteaders’ locations as he drew. “That’s Dutton’s place—and here’s the Shultz homestead—Lowell Cox here. Here’s the Jenson place, not far from your ranch. And this is the Draws—the Littleton boys got a ranch there. Matter of fact, I saw a few of your cows up there last month. Didn’t know they were yours then.”

  Dan took the map, and they all stood up. “Nice to know we have neighbors,” Dan said. “I’ll hope to repay you someday.”

  When they left, Dan said, “Rosa, I’ll start looking around. Sid will be here to look out for you.”

  “All right, Dan. Be careful.”

  “Sure.” Dan went outside and saddled a fresh horse, a rangy bay with a rough gait but a lot of endurance. When he swung up into the saddle, Sid came to say, “Wish I could go with you, Dan.” Then he glanced toward the house where Rosa was standing. “Think he’s alive—Rosa’s dad?”

  “No, I think he’s dead and buried somewhere in these hills. And somebody has a lot of Circle W stock—if they haven’t sold it off.” His lips grew tense, and he shook his head. “It’s been two months, and nobody’s seen Logan. He wouldn’t run away, and I doubt anybody could keep him away by force for that long.”

  Sid looked down, not wanting to see the pain in Winslow’s eyes.

  “Tough,” Sid said finally. Then lifting his head, he said quickly, “If you find something, don’t try to handle it. Come back and we’ll raise us an army.”

  Dan looked at the rider, a warmth coming to him at the loyalty he saw in Kincaid’s face. “Sure, Sid,” he nodded. “You hold the fort. I’ll be back by morning or tomorrow afternoon at least.”

  He rode out, and soon the ranch was lost to his sight. He rode steadily all afternoon, stopping at two small ranches and meeting the owners—Pie Dutton and Birch Bingham. They were cautious, and Dan saw that they were accustomed to being so. Both of them said they’d seen a few vented Circle W cows, but denied having any. Nor did either of them have any information about Logan Mann.

  Later in the afternoon the country grew rougher. Before him lay the deep slash of a canyon, and he had to ride carefully to get to the bottom of it. A small creek flowed there, with another canyon leading away like the downstroke of the letter T. This he followed until he found a traveled path. Angling up he reached timber again and at six rode out into a meadow. He moved forward, but at that moment a bullet’s slug struck at the bay’s hooves with a brief thwut, and the sound of a hidden gun, delayed by distance, began to roll its metal echo all across the bowl of the canyon.

  At once, Dan wheeled his horse around and made for the cover of the timber. Another shot came, then a third, but he reached the timber safely. At once he moved down the slope, and when he had covered three hundred yards, pulled up. He dismounted and tied the horse, then yanked his rifle from his boot. He could hear the sound of a horse approaching and ran to the edge of the tree line. A horseman was coming at a dead run, a rifle in his hand. Dan let him get a hundred feet away, then quickly took aim and sent a slug over the man’s head, yelling out, “Hold it!”

  The rider yanked his horse’s head up so abruptly that the animal reared, throwing the man to the ground. He dropped the rifle, but when he made a wild grab at it, Dan yelled, “Don’t do it!” and he halted at once.

  Dan stepped forward, and as the man got up, he warned him, “Don’t make any mistakes.”

  The man was small but well-built, with tow hair and green eyes. He looked around to see if Winslow was alone, then demanded, “What’s the idea of throwing a slug at me?”

  “I might ask you the same question.”

  “This is my place!”

  “You shoot at every man who comes for a visit?” Dan demanded. He looked d
own at the house and saw three men getting on their horses. “Step over here,” Dan said, motioning with his rifle.

  “This is good enough,” the man said defiantly. “You won’t shoot me.”

  “I’ll put a bullet through both your knees and leave you to squirm the rest of your life!” Dan said wickedly. “Now move!”

  “All right—all right, take it easy!”

  Dan slipped the revolver out of the man’s holster, saying, “Don’t get ambitious when those fellows get here.”

  “Who the blazes are you?”

  “Dan Winslow.”

  “Winslow? The fellow who bought the Gunderson place?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, why didn’t you say so instead of sneaking around! I’m Charlie Littleton.”

  “I was just trying to pay a friendly visit. But you took a shot at me.”

  “We been having some trouble,” Littleton shrugged. “Sorry about that, Winslow. It was just a warning shot.” He turned, saying, “Let me stop those fools—” He waved his hands in the air as the riders approached, yelling, “It’s okay! Don’t shoot.”

  Dan watched as the riders drew up in a half circle, and waited as Littleton told them to cool down. He handed back Charlie Littleton’s gun, saying, “Sorry I didn’t send an engraved letter of my intention to visit.”

  Littleton grinned. He was a handsome fellow, and no fool. He introduced his crew, including his brother Dion. “C’mon to the house. We’ll feed you and put you up for the night.”

  “The grub would be welcome,” Dan nodded, “but I’ve got to get home by morning.”

  “I’d be careful ramming around these draws after dark,” Dion Littleton said gruffly. “Fellow could get hisself killed.”

  “Shut up, Dion,” Charlie said easily. He led the way to the cabin, and as Winslow ate, he told them his errand.