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 the 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.’
“I’ll go along,’ Green said.
The redheaded 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 redhead 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 bushwhack 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 :
Oliver Strange - Sudden Westerns 01 - The Range Robbers(1930) Page 12