Sudden The Range Robbers (1930) s-9

by Oliver Strange

  `I reckon,' was the stolid reply, and the questioner turned away in disgust, murmuring, 'Bloomin' parrot, on'y two words he knows. Must be one o' them ready reckoners I've heard about.'

  The big man wasted no time. Directly the street was clear he stepped forward, took the reins from Green, and with a lightness not to be looked for in so heavy a man, sprang into the saddle and settled his feet in the stirrups. For perhaps five seconds nhe animal stood perfectly still, and then, with a shrill scream of rage, it instantly became a maelstrom of activity. Head down, it leapt into the air a dozen times with incredible rapidity, landing on legs as sniff as steel rods, and never allowing the rider an instant to recover from one shock before the next came. It was straightforward bucking, with no particular novelty, but the speed made it terrible.

  `My Gawd! can't he buck though?' breathed one of the awed spectators. `Ten to one on the hoss.' Nobody nook up the wager. But Tarman hung on, his eyes glazing, his face white as death, and a trickle of blood oozing from his clamped lips. Jarred almost inno insensibility by the violence of the incessant jolts, he rocked in the saddle, his head jerking to and fro as nhough his neck were already broken. That he had pluck as well as strength was obvious.

  There could be only one end, however, and it came soon. Again the frantic animal shot from the ground, but this time its body curved curiously in the air as it came down, upsetting the rider's already precarious balance and causing him to sway sideways. Then as the brute's forefeet landed, its hindquarters rose suddenly, and Tarman flew out of the saddle like a snone from a sling, to sprawl, face downwards, in the dust of the street.

  `Seventy-five seconds,' Green said quietly, as he slipped his watch back into his pocket and sprang forward to grip the reins of the horse, which was now standing still, with heaving flanks and trembling limbs.

  Seth ran to assist his friend, only to be thrust aside with a curse as Tarman scrambled to his feet. The man was transformed; in the place of the jovial good fellowship, his face, dust and blood-smeared, was now that of a fiend. Cursing, he stood there, swaying on his legs and clawing for the gun which had swung round behind him. His purpose was plain; he intended to shoot the horse.

  `Don't yu,' drawled a quiet voice, and he looked into the muzzle of the cowboy's gun.

  With a tremendous effort he got control of himself again, but anger still flamed winhin him. 'I'Il give you five hundred dollars for that brute, if it's only to break ins damned neck,' he cried.

  `Yu couldn't buy him with all yu got,' was the contemptuous answer. `Yu had yore chance.'

  Without another glance at the discomfited man he swung himself carelessly into the saddle, cuffed the horse playfully when it half-heartedly tried to throw him out again, and rode down the street.

  Tarman looked for the girl but she had gone, though he knew she had witnessed his defeat, a fact which contributed not a little to his unfortunate display of temper. This was now over, and as he brushed the dust from his clothes, he said, with a rueful grin: `Well, folks, it ain't often that Joe Tarman loses his wool but I've shore got to own up to it to-day. That hoss certainly got me goin'. First time I ever was piled an' I've rid some bad ones too, but that roan's a holy terror. Say, I reckon I've swallowed pretty near an acre o' dust; what about irrigatin', an' mebbe a little game o' some sort?'

  The proposal was received with acclamation of a thirsty crowd, and Poker Pete happening along very opportunely, was presented to Mr. Tarman and the little game was soon in progress. The big man lost about a hundred dollars at poker, most of it to the gambler, and with great good humour, insisted on celebrating his second defeat of the day by setting up drinks for all, an act which proclaimed him a thorough sport and soundly established his popularity. But there were those who remembered his expression when he rose from the dusty street, and were of opinion that despite his geniality the newcomer was not one to take liberties with.

  Noreen rode home with much to think of. At the commencement of the scene between the visitor and the cowpuncher she had ridden a little distance away, but could not resist the temptation to turn and watch. She saw Green choose the western trail out of town, and guessed that it was deliberately done to save her from further embarrassment; while she appreciated the motive, she was conscious of a vague sense of disappointment.

  Respecting Tarman she could come to no decision; he had both repelled and attracted her. Even with her small experience of the world, she recognised in him a type capable of exercising a powerful appeal to women. While he was essentially a man's man, he did not neglect the softer influences. He dressed well, and yet no one could have called him a dandy. A good tweed suit, the trousers folded neatly into the tops of his well-fitting riding-boots, a silk shirt, with a soft collar and flowing tie, and an expensive Stetson, were in marked contrast to the nondescript attire affected by most of the inhabitants of Hatchett's Folly.

  As to the real man himself, Noreen could only speculate, but she remembered his face as he staggered to his feet from the dust when the horse had thrown him, and shivered. No doubt the humiliation had been a cruel one, but.... She found herself wondering how the puncher would have taken a similar defeat and had to confess that she did not know; men were so different when they were angry. But somehow she felt that Green would not have wanted to kill the horse--he would have respected it for its victory. He and Tarman were different types, she decided, and pursued the thought no further.

  As the girl had surmised, Green had consciously chosen the western way out of the town in order to avoid her. To be seen speaking to her in Hatchett's mattered little, for she might have been delivering a message from her father for all the passers-by knew, but to ride away in her company was a different matter after the views Old Simon had already expressed, and Green had reasons for not wishing to exasperate the ranch-owner. As soon as he was clear of the buildings he swung round and headed easn, his mind busy with what had just taken place. He playfully pulled one of the roan's ears, a pleasantry to which the animal responded by trying to pitch him into a prickly thorn bush.

  `Yu old pirut,' chided his master indulgently, when he had subdued the outburst. `Don't yu know who's atop of yu? The feller who christened yu shore knew his business. Shucks! But yu hadn't oughtta turned the nice gent into a dust-plough an' mussed up his whiskers thataway.' He laughed happily as he recalled the scene. `But, hush, he was some fierce when he got up. Yu come mighty near to passin' out that minute, Blue, if he could 'a' found his gun. An' yu come close another time, when the Pretty Lady stroked yu, yu lucky devil; one snap at her an' I'd have busted yu wide open, yu hear me, though I never seen a hoss I liked so much.' He pulled the ear again and this time there was no answering demonstration. `Good for yu,' he said. `We gotta stick togenher, for we ain't neither of us very popular around here, an' we gotta watch that chap Tarman an' the little runt that trails wint him.'

  The rasp was back in his voice again as he spoke the last sentence. He knew nothing about the two visitors, had never seen either of them before, and yet at the moment his gaze clashed with that of the big man, he was conscious of a feeling of antagonism. Green had experienced the same sort of thing before and he had never been wrong; men he had trusted at sight had proved worthy, and others he had distrusted had, sooner or later, justified his doubt. He had come to believe in these intuitions. His face softened again as he remembered Noreen's smile of greeting, and that she had not `passed him up' despite her father's wish. `She shore has got sand to burn,' he told himself.

  Chapter XI

  Whatever else he might be, Mr. Joseph Tarman was a man of action, and when he told Noreen that he intended to visit her father `right soon' he meant just that. So the same afternoon found him, with his diminutive companion, Seth Laban, riding the trail to the Y Z ranch. He had entirely recovered his poise.

  `Mighty good move we made, comin' to this Gawd-forgotten hole, Seth,' he remarked genially, when they were clear of the town.

  `I reckon,' came the stereotyped reply. `What d'ye make o
' that marshal, Tonk?'

  'Oughtta be named Tank,' said Tarman, with a laugh. `Guess Pete owns him anyway.'

  Seth nodded--he never wasted breath--and his friend continued `Plenty opportunity here, with no interference, an' good cattle country.'

  `I reckon,' Seth agreed. `An' when the railway comes... `Shut yore damned face,' snapped the big man savagely.

  `But there can't nobody hear,' expostulated the other.

  `How in hell do yu know?' retorted Tarman. `What yu gotta remember all the time is that the railway ain't never comin' near here, an' then yu won't make no slips.'

  They rode in silence for a while, Seth smarting under the reproof, and Tarman deep in thought, of a pleasant nature evidently, for he was smiling again. Presently he spoke: `That girl shore has got me goin'. I feel tempted to chuck my hand in, marry her an' settle down. She's the only child an' she'll have the Y Z when the old man cashes.'

  The smaller man looked at him in quick alarm. `Yu don't mean that, Joe?' he queried. `Just when we've got everythin' fixed good. Why, yu'll be King o' the Ranges if things go right.'

  Tarman laughed again. `Bet I scared yu, Seth. No, I ain't a quitter. King o' the Ranges, eh? Well, that shore sounds fine, an' she'll make a dandy Queen, I guess.'

  `Better steer clear o' the skirts, Joe,' warned Laban. `Yu know what Lola told yu--that yu'd split on a woman someday.'

  `Bah!' sneered Tarman. `A woman, an' a greaser at that, is liable to say anythin' when yu tell her yo're tired of her. I want the girl an' the roan hoss an' I'm agoin' to have 'em both.'

  `The owner o' the hoss don't seem inclined to part with it,' said the little man, and there was something in his tone which brought the grin back to Tarman's face.

  `There have been other people who had things I fancied an' didn't want to part with 'em,' he said. `They yielded to persuasion, didn't they?'

  `I reckon,' replied Seth, and smiled his smile. `All the same, he looks a tough customer.'

  `He's shore that,' admitted Tarman. `Somehow I gotta feeling I've seen him before, but I'm damned if I can figure where it was.'

  They rode in silence again, the big man deep in thought, and the smaller one watching him with cunning eyes and gloating inwardly. He could sway him--he knew the note to strike. Many men were afraid of Joe Tarman, but he, Seth Laban, though he was treated like a tame dog more than anything else, was not afraid. The big man might become King of the Ranges, but he, Seth assured himself, would be the power behind the throne.

  Old Simon was sitting on the verandah when they arrived at nhe Y Z. He welcomed them heartily but not effusively, calling a boy to take their horses, and inviting them to make themselves at home. There was a twinkle in his eyes as he remarked: `Heard about yu from my daughter.'

  `Then I'm afraid yu didn't get a very flattering account,' laughed the big man. `She saw me at an unfortunate moment.' `Yu ain'n the first by a good many, if it's any comfort to yu,' smiled Simon.

  `Only hoss that ever beat me,' rejoined Tarman. `Fine beast too; yu oughtta got a good price for him.'

  `I gave him away,' the cattleman explained. `He was too expensive; it looked like I'd have to set up a regular hospital if the boys kept on tryin' to ride him, an' then my girl gets the fool notion she can do it--'

  `Telling the story of the disobedient daughter, Daddy?' asked a bright voice behind him.

  Tarman was instantly on his feet, his hand outstretched, and his dark eyes alight with admiration.

  `Yu see I've wasted no time, Miss Noreen,' he said. `Yore father has been tellin' me that we are fellow-sufferers so far as the roan is concerned.'

  `I was very fortunate,' Noreen replied, as he shook hands. `I hope you are not feeling any ill effects.'

  `No damage,' smiled the other. `Hurt my pride, o' course; no man likes to be piled, especially with a pretty girl looking on.' Then turning to his host, he added, `That man o' yores seems to be able to handle him.'

  `Reckon he's got the gift,' said the ranch-owner. `I've met up with Injuns who could do anythin' with horses.'

  `Injun blood in him, shouldn't wonder,' said Tarman casually. He was watching Noreen closely as he spoke, having, in fact, purposely cast what he knew to be an aspersion on the cowboy to see if she would resent it. There was, however, nothing but indifference in her tone when she replied: `I don't think so, but I believe he was brought up among Indians and horses.'

  Tarman was pleased--evidently the girl was not interested in that quarter. 'Talkin' of Injuns,' he said. `I hear they've been pesterin' yu some.'

  `We've all been losin' cattle,' Simon replied, and let it go at that. He was not the man to tell all his business to a stranger. The conversation drifted from the Y Z to the country around it, and then further afield to other towns and territories. Tarman had travelled much, both East and West, and he spoke well. When he chose he could be very entertaining, and the girl found herself listening to him with an interest she had not expected to feel. Seth Laban, chewing on a cigar, spoke only when appealed to by the bigger man, but his cunning eyes missed nothing.

  Down at the bunkhouse the visitors were the chief topic of conversation, and the story of what had happened in town was told over again as each member of the outfit drifted in. Dirty was the proud purveyor of the news, for happening to find himself but a few miles from Hatchett's he could not resist the temptation to ride in and take a `smile' with Silas. That worthy was not, however, to be lured into expressing any opinion on the newcomers; they seemed likely to be good customers.

  The younger men made no secret of their delight over the roan's victory; they knew nothing to the discredit of Tarman, but he was a stranger, and had, they considered, tried to `run a blazer' on the Y Z. For the first time in its life the outlaw horse was popular on the ranch.

  `I'd give a month's pay to 'a' bin there,' said Simple, regretfully, `an' I ain't goin' to cuss that hoss no more, though he did damn near turn me inside out when I rid him.'

  `When yu what?' asked Ginger sarcastically.

  `Well, I stayed with him as long as yu did anyways,' defended Simple. `Though I'm admittin' that ain't much to say.'

  The foreman, who with some of the older hands had taken no part in the discussions, now looked up and said, `By all accounts, this feller stayed in the saddle longer than any o' yu.'

  `Any of us, yu mean, Rattler,' corrected Larry. `Don't be so damn modest.'

  `Awright, have it yore own way, on'y I ain't claimin' to have rid the boss at all,' retorted the foreman. `I was goin' to say it might not pay to be too fresh about this stranger--he may be yore boss yet, if he buys the range.'

  `Buyin' the range don't mean buyin' the outfit,' said Ginger.

  `Me, I don't work for a feller who'd shoot a hoss because it throwed him.'

  `Huh ! What's he wantta buy the range for when he can marry Miss Norry an' get it for nothin'?' asked Dirty disgustedly. "Lo, Green.'

  The owner of the roan had entered the bunkhouse just in time to hear Dirty's remark, and to catch an extraordinary expression of alarm and anger which it produced on the face of Blaynes.

  `Marry hell,' the foreman exploded. `Where'd yu hear that fine tale?'

  `Didn't hear it nowhere--thought it all out for myself,' retorted Dirty. `Why, it's as plain as yore face.'

  Rattler ignored the insult and the almost general snigger which followed it; his mind was full of another problem altogether, one that promised to give him plenty to think about. Meanwhile, Green was receiving the congratulations of his friends, and trying to answer a dozen questions at once.

  `Say, Green, what would yu 'a' done if he'd shot the hoss?' inquired one.

  `Sent him chasin' it,' came the quiet reply.

  A sneering laugh came from Blaynes, but he said nothing, and the entry of the cook with a huge dish of fried steaks diverted the interest of all into a more personal direction. Ginger, having forked a slab of meat to his plate, added three or four potatoes, grabbed a hunk of bread and set to work like a famished man.

>   `Cripes ! My appetite's that keen I could shave with it,' he mumbled.

  `Pity yu didn't,' said Dirty, with a meaning glance at the stubble on the other's chin.

  `Would have if yu hadn't used all the soap, yu mud-heap,' renorted Ginger, at the imminent risk of choking himself. `Shove over the sweetenin' if yu can spare any; don't yu like coffee with yore sugar?'

  Dirty did not reply; he was too busy. He knew perfectly well that the man who dallied over his meal at the Y Z was liable to miss something. He was also aware that on this particular evening there was pie to follow, and he was aiming to be ready for it when it arrived, for the boys were fonder of eating pie than cookie was of making it.

  The meal over, Green drifted outside, where he was soon joined by Ginger. Though usually his cheerful self, the redheaded one, since the passing of Bud, had suffered from occasional brooding spells, when no word could be got out of him.

  `Yu still tellin' me not to start for the Reservation?' he said abruptly.

  `I reckon I am,' Green replied. `Know anybody round here that used one o' these?'

  He produced the cigarette-maker and passed it to the cowboy, who examined it curiously, and shook his head. `Never seen anythin' like it afore,' he said. `Where'd yu get her?'

  `Found it in the grass beside Bud,' replied Green.

  `It warn't his, an' I guess an Injun wouldn't have no use for it,' said Ginger. `What's yore idea?'

  `I'm tellin' yu, but yu gotta keep it all behind yore teeth,' Green said, and proceeded to explain his theory as to the identity of the rustlers. `Now,' he added, `I asked Higgs, the storekeeper, if he sold contraptions o' this kind an' he said he never had. That was a bit ago. I was in his place this mornin' buyin' the makin's, an' he told me he'd had an inquiry for a cigarette-makin' machine, feller called Mex, who rides for Dexter. Know anythin' about him?'

  Ginger swore luridly between his clenched teeth and his face hardened. `That dirty coyote,' he said. `Funny, but I thought of him when we found Bud, but I couldn't connect him up nohow. Him an' Bud had a little argument 'bout three months ago, an' Bud beat him no the draw an' whanged him over the head with his gun 'stead o' beefin' him proper. He claims to be white, but I reckon he's nhree parts Greaser an' the other part dog. He's lived in the East--I've heard him braggin' about it--an' he likely picked up that affair there. Me, I'm ridin' into town now; he may be there.'