`I'll go along,' Green said.
The red-headed puncher slipped the tell-tale little machine into the pocket of his chaps and led the way to the corral. It did not take long to saddle the horses, and soon they were trotting side by side along the trail to the town. All the youth had gone out of Ginger's face, which was set with determination. Green did not talk. He knew that a tragedy impended but he would not lift a finger to prevent it; he had come merely to see that his friend got fair play. They had not gone more than a mile when they heard the thud of hoofs from behind, and in a moment another rider joined them. It was Snap.
`Yu fellers mind if I trail along to town with yu?' he asked. `I gotta see a man about a dog. What's takin' yu in, Ginger?'
`I want to see a dog about a man,' the red-head replied grimly, and there was no smile on his lips.
The gunman made no comment and the ride was continued in silence. When they reached the town, the evening festivities were in full swing. From the dance-hall next to the hotel came the wail of a fiddle, and outside the Folly at least a dozen ponies were hitched, several bearing the Double X brand. The three men added theirs to the number and walked into the saloon.
Green led the way to the bar, and returning the greeting of Silas, ordered a round of drinks. Then he took a general survey of the room. It was fairly full; a few men were lounging against the bar, but the majority of those present were grouped around the several tables at which cards were being played. At one of these Tarman, his satellite Laban, Poker Pete, and Rayne were engaged in a game of poker. The gambler gave Green one swift look and then became studiously interested in his hand.
Green saw that the attention of both his companions was centred upon a nearer table, occupied by five men, two of whom he recognised as Snub, and Nugget, the prospector. One of the others, a short, squat fellow, moved his right arm with difficulty, and Snap grinned as he noted the fact.
`Reckon Dutch is cussin' me for that,' he said, in a low voice to Green. `They don't guess yu was in it, an' if they thought I knew it was them, they'd bust up the game pronto. Yes, that's Post, the skinny feller sittin' opposite Snub, who don't look so happy since we come in.'
Green did not need to ask who the fifth man was--Ginger's expression of cold hatred had already told him. Mex might claim to be a white man, but the sallow skin, beady eyes, thin cruel lips, and lank black hair told another story. He had evidently lost his money and his temper, and a savage imprecation escaped him as he flung his cards in for the third time in succession and began to roll a cigarette. Either from anger or inexpertness he made poor work of it, the paper broke, and he swore again.
`What's come o' yore dude pill-maker, Mex?' asked Nugget. `Lost it,' snapped the other.
`Where?'
Like a pistol shot the word rang through the room. It was Ginger who had spoken. No longer leaning carelessly against the bar, he had stepped forward and was facing his man with blazing eyes. For a moment Mex was too surprised to answer, and then, with a shrug of his shoulders, he sneered :
`I dunno as it's any o' yore beesness.'
For all his care in speaking the white man's tongue, the last word tripped him up, and Ginger's lips wreathed in contempt.
`I'm makin' it my beesness,' he said, and flung the little machine on the table. `That's yore toy, ain't it?'
The other man's eyes wavered a fraction as they rested on the familiar shining object, and his pasty face went a shade paler. The men beside and behind him edged a little further away. Mex rose and picked up the cigarette-maker, examining it as though to make sure it was his property. Then he answered the question :
`S'pose it is, what's it gotta do with yu? I lose it an' yu find it. Me, I'm obleege. Yu claimin' a reeward?'
One of the Double X men sniggered at this, but most of the onlookers realised that the Y Z puncher was in deadly earnest. The two men were now alone, standing with the deserted card-table between them; all play had ceased, and there was an ominous silence. Ginger took no notice of the taunt. Crouching slightly, his right hand hanging straight by his side, his narrowed eyes bored into the man facing him.
`I'm askin' yu when an' where yu lost it?' he graned.
`An' I'm tellin' yu to go to hell an' find out,' snarled the other. `I don't need to go that far,' replied Ginger, his tone cold and even. `This was found beside Bud's body, an' yu dropped it there when yu murdered him, yu dirty cattle-thief.'
For a bare second the accused man hesitated, his face grey and sickly, and then, `Yo're a damn liar,' he shouted, and reached for his gun.
Amidst the scuffling of men anxious not to intercept a possible wild shot, the two reports rang out almost as one. Then, as the acrid smoke dissipated, Mex, with a choking cry, crumpled at the knees and fell across the table, his weapon thudding on the board floor. With a set face, on which no emotion was discernible, the cowboy gazed upon the man he had slain.
`I reckon I got him for yu, Buddie,' he muttered. `An' he got me.'
He staggered and fell into the nearest chair, sprawling across it helplessly. Instantly the room came alive again, men surging round, talking excitedly. Green and Snap were examining the wounded man; they found that the bullet had ploughed between two ribs, going clean through and missing any vital spot, loss of blood and shock being responsible for Ginger's collapse. `Damn near thing--little bit more to the left an' they'd 'a' took the long trail togenher,' Snap commented, as he helped Green bandage the wound.
In the midst of this operation the door opened and the marshal came bustling in. He was a short, beefy man, with a puffy, inflamed face, in which two small eyes were set like currants in a dumpling. It is enough to say of him that the only respect he received from the majority of Hatchett's inhabitants was that engendered by his office. He wore two guns and his badge was well in evidence.
`This is a helluva fine thing, ain't it?' he began. `Why couldn't one o' yu fetch me afore the trouble started?' A dozen explained that there was no time--that it was all over in a few minutes, and another dozen began to describe the affair to the marshal, each giving his own version, and all speaking at once.
`Awright, I can hear all that later,' he said testily. `I ain't deaf, an' I don't want to be. Who's the corpse?'
The friends of the dead man had laid out the body on a form at the side of the room, covering the face with his hat. Tonk strode over and looked at it.
`Mex, eh?' he said, and scowled. `Plumb heart shot. Now will one o' yu--one, I said--tell me how it happened.'
`It was thisaway, marshal,' Post Adams said. `We're just havin' a friendly game, all quiet an' peaceful, when Ginger, Lunt, an' this other feller comes in. We don't take no notice of 'em, an' suddenly Ginger starts shootin' off his mouth at Mex, callin' him a cattle-thief, an' allowin' that he knifed Bud, which we all know was done by Injuns. Naturally Mex tells him he's a liar, an' they pulls their guns.'
`An' it was an even break,' Snap contributed. `Ginger didn't try to bush-whack him.'
The long Double X man looked uncomfortable and felt the same; the squinting eyes of the little gunman sent a chill feeling along his spine, and he inwardly cursed himself and Dutch for not having done a better job. If Snap knew--and he evidently at least suspected--life for the pair of them became a very uncertain quantity. But nothing of this showed in his manner as he answered: `Mebbe it was an even break, but Mex warn't lookin' for trouble. Ginger forced his hand. Looks to me as if he came a-purpose.'
Half a dozen voices corroborated the statement and Tonk pushed back his hat and scratched his frowsy head, looking furtively round the room. Green saw Poker Pete, who had kept well in the background, nod slightly when the marshal's travelling gaze reached him. Tonk hesitated another moment, and then said :
"Pears yo're right, Post. I guess I gotta take Ginger for this.' `Better guess again, marshal,' said a quiet voice from behind, and he turned to face the speaker, Green. The Y Z man was standing easily, his hands in plain view, and a half-smile on his lips. There was no threat in his attit
ude and the official began to bluster.
`Look here, yu. I represent the law.'
`Glad to hear it--some o' the marshals I've met up with on'y succeeded in mis-representin? it,' Green said pleasantly.
`Mebbe they did, that ain't nothin' to do with me,' said Tonk aggressively. `I've got the say-so in this town. Yu been runnin' on the rope too long, an' I tell yu, if I'd been around the day yu come, yu'd 'a' gone to the "cooler" 'stead o' the Y Z, an' yu can stick a pin in that.'
`Yu don't say,' remonstrated the cowboy. `An' what for?' `Beatin' up a valued citizen, that's what for,' said the marshal. Green laughed outright. `The said valued citizen being a tin horn gambler who is now present an' keepin' mighty quiet,' he sneered.
`Never yu mind,' snapped the officer, who had entirely missed the savage look which Pete had favoured him with. `If he's keepin' quiet it's on'y because he knows I'm here--'
`To do his dirty work for him,' interjected Green. Then in an instant he changed, the bantering in his voice vanished, his eyes narrowed to slits, and his attitude became one of alert preparedness.
`Let me tell yu somethin' for yore own good, marshal,' he said. `That star yo're wearin' ain't bullet-proof, an' it ain't big enough to hide behind, as many a better man than yu has found out. Everyone who saw the shootin' knows that it was an even break, an' that Mex was guilty as hell, an' showed it. I know yu got yore orders--I saw the valued citizen give 'em to yu.' Tonk flashed an uneasy look at the gambler, and Green grinned as he continued, `Yu shouldn't 'a' done that, marshal; yo're givin' the game away, an' the valued citizen ain't a bit pleased with yu. Now gents, I'm goin' to put a resolution to the meetin', namely, that Ginger goes back to the Y Z with me. Will anybody kindly second that?'
`I'm pleased to,' said Snap, his eyes twinkling.
`Thank yu, seh,' replied the proposer gravely, and then, `Gents, it has been proposed and seconded that Ginger goes with me. I will now put it to the vote. All in favour will raise both hands--empty.'
He lifted his own as he spoke and there was a gun in each. Snap followed suit, squinting hopefully at the Double X men. There was no hesitation; the marshal was not popular, and the few who would have liked to support him realised that one false move would turn the comedy into a tragedy. Even the marshal knew it, and his hands were not the last to go skyward. Green's sardonic glance swept the room.
`Carried unanimous,' he said. `Ginger, I didn't know yu was that popular.' Then to Snap, he added, `Get him on his hoss, while I count the votes again, case I've missed any.'
For several minutes he stood there, guns poised ready for instant action, and a lurking devil of mirth in his eyes. When he had given Snap sufficient time he backed slowly towards the door.
`There, marshal, yu see how wrong yu was,' he smiled. `Everybody allowed it was an even break an' wanted Ginger let alone. Why, yu even voted for it yore own self.'
`This ain't finishin' here,' snarled the officer.
`Well, well,' drawled the puncher. `But don't be in a hurry, marshal.'
He slid quickly through the door, slammed it behind him, and found his horse. Vaulting into the saddle, he waited. Snap and the wounded man were already on their way. A moment or two passed and then a narrow band of light showed that the door of the saloon was being opened. Green drove a bullet into the jamb at about the height of a shortish man's head and laughed at the speed with which the bar of light vanished.
`I told yu not to be in a hurry, marshal,' he called out, and receiving no response, added to himself, `I reckon that'll keep 'em tied for a while.'
Turning his horse he rode slowly and noiselessly in the wake of his friends, and soon overtook them. There was no pursuit; the opening of the saloon door had been the marshal's last attempt to save his face, and had resulted in his nearly losing a part of it, for the answering bullet had been much nearer than Green had guessed or intended. Tonk was taking no more chances.
Chapter XII
THE news of the avenging of Bud produced a variety of sentiment at the Y Z. Ginger's friends, naturally, approved wholeheartedly and regarded the wounded man with envy and admiration. The foreman frankly stated his opinion that the killing was a misguided piece of `damn foolishness'--that he did not believe that Mex had anything to do with the slaying of Bud, and that the only result would be a range war which would bring trouble and calamity to the Y Z. The older men, though they cared nothing for the deceased, took their cue from the foreman and were plainly pessimistic.
To Simon Petter, when he reported the matter, Blaynes was even more outspoken. He put the whole of the blame on Green, whom he accused of egging on Ginger, and hinted that he must have some hidden motive for snirring up trouble.
`He's got the earmarks of a professional gun-slinger, an' if he's that, what's he doin' around here?' he asked. `I've a hunch we oughtta give him his time.'
But Simon did not adopt the suggestion; he was conscious of a curious liking for the stranger, and at the same time, in an indefinite way, he feared him. Was his arrival at the ranch purely accidennal or was there some sinister design behind it? That was a question Simon had wrestled with several times without coming to a satisfactory solution.
`An' now, I s'pose, we'll have Dexter goin' on the warpath, an' Tonk a-comin' round here with a warrant,' pursued Blaynes. `Huh! that sponge,' sneered his employer. `If I catch him onthe Y Z I'll bake him as hard to find as water on the Staked Plain, marshal or not. As for Dexter, if he wants a fight he can have it; I ain't eatin' no dirt at his orders.'
The foreman looked at his boss in amazement; this was a side of him he did not know. Old the ranch-owner might be, but the spirit of the pioneer who had blazed his path into new counnry and fought to hold his place there remained.
`Why do yu reckon they tried to bump off Lunt?' asked Simon.
`No idea--private difference, I should say,' replied the foreman. `See here, Simon, don't get the notion that I got any use for the Double X. Yu say the word an' I'll take a dozen o' the boys an' wipe 'em up.'
The cattleman shook his head. `Let 'em make the first move,' he said. `Yu just remember what I'm tellin' yu, if they want trouble they can have it. I ain't none so shore that--'
He left the thought unspoken, gave Blaynes a nod of dismissal, and turned away. The foreman, on his way from the house, saw Noreen talking to Green by the corral, from which he had just led his horse, and the sight drew a snarling oath from his lips. The girl was going to visit the hurt man when she met the puncher, and there was reproach both in eyes and voice when she asked how he was.
`Ginger's doin' fine,' said Green, `but I reckon he won't never recover.' Then noting her look of consternation, he added, `Not if yo're goin' to nurse him.'
She blushed a little and then retorted smilingly, `Then we must find a better nurse.'
`Shucks! I didn't mean it that way,' Green protested, and grinned at the neat way in which she had turned his little joke against him.
Noreen laughed too, but in an instant her face became grave again, and she asked, `Why did you let him do it?'
He had been expecting the question and his expression sobered immediately. `Ginger is a grown man, ma'am, an' it was his business,' he explained. `Bud was his friend, and he had it to do.'
`But surely it is the business of the law to punish a criminal,' she protested.
The law, meaning the marshal,' said Green. `Well, yes, but yu see the law is such a powerful long time gettin' to work that a criminal is liable to die of old age before it gets him. An' s'pose it does get him, what happens? Why, he's allowed to escape because the sheriff is a friend, or he gets let off by a packed jury of his "peers"--the fellers who oughtta be in the dock with him. Theoretically, the law is sound enough, but out here it's just a farce and a man must do his own police-work. This feller was a
cow-thief an' a murderer--his life was twice forfeit, an' I don't see that it matters whether one man or a hundred are concerned in puttin' him out o' mischief.'
He spoke seriously, and she
was conscious that it was not entirely with the object of justifying Ginger, but that they were his own views, and that she might expect him to act in accordance with them. As a Western girl, born and bred, a deed of violence was no new thing to her, but this one had come very close to her, and the horror was still fresh. She realised that he was right, but she would not admit it, even to herself.
`But under your system, the man who is fast with his gun can commit any number of crimes with impunity,' she argued. `Had this man been quicker than Ginger, he would merely have added another murder to the one he was already guilty of.'
`I ain't claimin' the system, or that it is perfect,' the cowpuncher replied. `Yu have to have some penalty for offences against life an' property. An' yu mustn't mix up killin' with murder, too many folks do that, an' plenty o' fellers get reputations as bad men who don't deserve 'em. There's two sorts o' gunmen--one who kills for the sake of it, an' the other, who won't pull a gun until he has to, an' who gives his man an even break every time. No, the law of the gun may be defective an' primitive, but without it this country wouldn't be possible. Do yu reckon that if yore father catches a rustler with the goods he'll hand him over to Tonk?'
The girl was silenced, if not convinced, for, knowing Simon, she did not expect that he would do any such thing. Green saved her the problem of answering his question by turning the conversation.
`Yore friend has come a-visitin' again,' he said, and looking towards the ranch-house she saw that Taxman and Laban had just ridden up.
`I don't make friends so easily,' she returned, and then, `You don't like him?'
`Yo're a good guesser,' he admitted. `Shucks! We break even on that--he don't like me, an'--' a gleam of mirth sparkled in his eyes, `I'm worried to death about it.'
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