He squinted at Green as he threw out the challenge and then his eyes roved round the company. The Y Z puncher laughed and replied good-humouredly :
“Not any for me, thank yu. I had a full meal o’ scrappin’ last night; I ain’t a hog.’
The other men seemed to accept the dwarf’s offer as a joke, sprung for the benefit of the newcomer. The enormous muscular power of that stunted body was known to all. The foreman clinched the discussion by saying sharply: “Draw in yore horns, Gorilla; we gotta job comin’ along that’ll need all the sound men we can muster.’
“Aw, Jeffs, there won’t be no trouble,’ protested the dwarf. “Yu can see I got ‘em all razzledazzled—scared of a little ‘un.’
In an instant the foreman’s face changed from calm to snorm. His eyes flashed fire, and snatching out his gun, he cried, “One more yap from yu an’ it will be yore finish. Yu know me.’
The pugnacious one subsided into his seat like a pricked bubble, and Jeffs, with a savage glare round the room, went out. The scene, begun in a farcical mood, had nearly ended in red tragedy.
“Yu want to go slow with Jeffs, Gorilla,’ admonished West. “He on’y warns a man once, an’ not allus that.’
The stunted man did not reply; the tempest he had so suddenly raised had routed his not over-keen faculties, and he was still in a kind of daze.
“Would he have killed him?’ Green whispered to West.
“Shore thing,’ replied the other. “I saw him do it once. Yu see, this is a tough crowd an’ he’s gotta ride ‘em all the time.’
“What’s the job he spoke of?’
“Ain’t a notion—first I’ve heard of it. We’ll all know soon, I guess.’
The next day was occupied with the ordinary work of the ranch, but on the following morning preparations for some expedition began. Horses were brought in and carefully examined, weapons were cleaned, and ropes looked at. There was an air of general excitement, the meaning of which Green did not discover until the foreman called him aside, and with a leering look, told him the news.
“Chance to git yore own back a bit tonight, Green,’ he said, watching with narrowed eyes. “We’re aimin’ to lift some o’ the Y Z stock. Yu’ll be along.’
The puncher’s face told him nothing. “Why not?’ came the cool retort. “I’m workin’ for yu, an’ they treated me mean. I don’t owe the Y Z nothin’ but a grudge.’
“Well, here’s where yu pay it,’ smiled the other. “We start this afternoon.’
Left to himself, Green pondered on the situation; there were points he could not understand. Jeffs, of course, had received orders from Tarman, but why was the latter robbing the ranch he must surely be expecting to possess one day, for the cattle, once stolen, were the general property of the gang. Again, so far as he could judge, he had been the last to be told, even West having said nothing of the projected raid. This might be a natural precaution on the part of the foreman, who could not be sure of Green’s real feelings towards his old ranch. Certainly he had made it impossible for the Y Z man to send any warning unless he deserted altogether, and Green guessed his movements were being watched. Was it a trap for himself? Looking at it every way he could find no solution, and at length, with a shrug of his shoulders, he decided that there was nothing to be done but go through with it. West provided another disquieting factor.
“No, I ain’t goin’—I gotta keep house,’ he said, regret in his tone, and then in a whisper, he added, “Somethin’s in the wind—I dunno what, but yu better watch out. Jeffs is goin’ this time an’ that ain’t usual.’
Green was sorry that the talkative one was not to be of the party, for not only was he good company, but the Y Z puncher felt that he could depend on him for help in a tight place. Warped as he undoubtedly was, he had laws of his own, and with the man who had saved him from a horrible death, he would play straight.
Ten men, well-mounted and fully armed, composed the raiding force, which set out early in the afternoon, headed for the Y Z. The trail taken was the one by which West had brought Green to the rustlers’ headquarters. With plenty of time at theirdisposal the men rode easily, smoking and chatting in pairs. Green, indifferent as to whom he rode with, found himself companioned by Gorilla, perched on the back of a big, raw-boned pony, with a hammer head and a general lack of beauty thoroughly in keeping with its rider. The dwarf grinned at the bigger man as he ranged alongside, and noted the disparaging glance at his mount.
“Shore, he ain’t much to look at, but he’s wise to cattle an’ he’ll run till he drops,’ he said, with an odd note of pride in his rumbling voice.
“Yu don’t have to tell me,’ responded Green. “hosses is where I live.’
“Yes, an’ yu gotta good ‘un,’ said Gorilla.
“Bullet’s a useful animal,’ agreed Green, patting his pony’s neck.
“I wasn’t meanin’ him; what about yore other hoss, the roan…’ he stopped suddenly, and with some confusion added, “Huh, reckon I’m tanglin’ yu up with some other feller. Well, anyways, it don’t matter now.’
With which cryptic remark he relapsed into silence, merely favouring the puncher with an occasional side-glance and a sort of half-grin containing an element of malicious mirth. Here was more food for thought; these men evidently knew more about him than he had suspected. Why had the little man chopped his remark short? Had he been on the point of revealing something? And why didn’t it matter now? These questions kept the cowpuncher’s mind fully occupied until the band reached the hidden valley, where he had to dismount and help the others adjust the board gangway for the horses. As this was made much wider and stronger, and left in position, it was evident that the stolen herd was to be brought oack that way.
At the hut in the valley a rest and a meal were taken and Jeffs gave his final instructions. The men were told off to work in pairs and Green had Gorilla assigned to him as partner. Then loose boards in the floor of the hut were lifted, and from the cavity beneath a number of Indian head-dresses were dragged. These were donned and some of the men even daubed their faces with stain and “painted Injun.’ Then, with a whild whoop, several sprang out and gave a creditable display of an Apache wardance, while the rest looked on and applauded.
“Big Chief, “Wart-on-a-horse,” him dance too,’ yelled one, and slung Gorilla into the cavorting ring round the fire. Anything more ludicrous than the dwarf’s great body, with eagle plumes streaming down the back, balanced on tiny legs trying to keep step with the others, could hardly be conceived, and the spectacle aroused shouts of laughter. Jeffs, however, soon put a stop to the merriment with the order to mount.
It was growing dark when they passed through the tunnel at the lower end of the valley and made their way down the stream. The men rode in pairs and the foreman had named the order; Green and his partner were the middle couple, and the cowpuncher could not believe that this was accidental. Moreover, Gorilla stuck to him like a burr, and he had an uneasy suspicion that the little man was riding with his gun drawn, and that he would be instantly shot down if he made a dash for it. They rode slowly, for in the dark the trail was difficult, and Jeffs wished to spare the horses. Mile after mile they paced through the darkness, amid a silence broken only by the creak of saddle-leather, the clink of a shod hoof on a stone, a laugh or an oath from one of the riders. At times the heavy foliage shut them in completely, but when threading a gully or crossing a ridge they could see the sky, ablaze with the twinkling lights of other worlds.
Several times Green endeavoured to draw his companion into converse but the dwarf replied only in monosyllables. He had the air of one who has nearly committed an indiscretion and is taking no more risks. So the Y Z man was driven to his own thoughts, and into these a laughing face, with rebellious golden hair, insisted upon intruding. He found himself wishing he could see her, but would have been sadly shocked had he known how soon his desire was to be gratified.
So far as Green could determine, the trail they were traversing was that
he and Larry had followed, skirting Sandy Parlour, and striking the Y Z range near the line-house where Bud had been slain. A plainsman, travelling a new trail, instinctively picks out landmarks which, retained in the memory, will enable him to recognise it again; the contour of a bluff, the bed of an old watercourse, a big tree, or even a particular clump of brush, serve him as signposts. So that the cowpuncher knew when they were nearing their destination, and was moved to comment on the lack of caution shown by the raiders.
“Shucks, they ain’t expectin’ us,’ said Gorilla.
“Yu mean they are expectin’ us, don’t yu?’ queried the other. “Who’s at the line-house tonight?’
“Bent an’ Nigger,’ replied the dwarf unthinkingly, and then, with a sudden oath, “Here, what yu gettin’ at? How do I know who..’
The puncher interrupted him. “Why not?’ he asked easily. “I reckon Jeffs ain’t the man to overlook a bet like that. Yu gotta suspicious nature, Gorilla.’
“Mebbe I have, but don’t yu play no tricks on me,’ came the sullen retort.
They were now in a little draw which sloped up on to the open range, and Jeffs called a halt while one of the men slipped from his saddle and vanished in the shadows. Evidently the leader of the expedition was taking no chances, and wished to be sure that the men he looked for were actually in the cabin. The rest of them waited, in silence now, for the return of the scout. Green covertly tried his guns, making sure they would instantly come from the holsters, and then, pressing his horse with his right leg, caused the animal to gradually edge further away from Gorilla. The latter at once imitated the movement, growling in an undertone, “We gotta keep together, pard.’
The puncher did not reply; he had found out what he wanted to know—that he was not trusted. Doubtless, he argued, he had been included in the party as a test; if, indeed, he was willing to rob his late employer, they would know that he was one of them, but they would take no risks till this was proved. His own plans were not yet matured, he was not ready to put his cards on the table, for he had no evidence of Tarman’s connection with the rustlers other than his own knowledge.
The reappearance of the man who had gone ahead cut short his meditations. Apparently the coast was clear, for the leader gave the word and the raiders advanced through the draw to emerge on the open range. Then, in accordance with the orders already given, four of the couples spread out right and left in a wide half-circle, while Jeffs and another man headed for the line-house, the one small window of which was lighted up. Noiselessly loping over the thick grass, the outer horns of the half-circle of horsemen swept round to complete the ring, and then, at the shrill cry of a coyote, which was the agreed signal, all rode slowly towards the centre, driving in the cows. A few of the brutes tried to dodge past the riders, but the cowponies knew their work and soon had the fugitives turned back into the bunch. In less than an hour the gather was made, and Jeffs rode up to find a goodly herd of six or seven score awaiting him.
“Get ‘em on the move, boys,’ he said. “We don’t want no daylight in this act.’
The men laughed and set about the task of getting the milling herd on the run. Green was taking a hand in this when a squat, leering rider slipped up behind and dealt him a crashing blow on the head with the barrel of a six-shooter. The stricken man went headlong from the saddle, and the frightened pony sprang away into the darkness before the assailant could grip the reins. With a chuckle of triumph the dwarf looked down upon the sprawling black figure, with its garish plumed head-dress.
“Reckon yu’ll stay put for a bit, but yo’re damn lucky,’ he muttered. “I’d ‘a’ put a knife in yore gizzard but Jeffs wouldn’t have it; swore he’d blow me apart if I killed ye, an’ he’d do it too, blast him.’
Without another look at his victim, the cold-blooded little freak turned his horse and galloped after the retreating raiders.
In the first chill of the early morning, a cowboy loped easily over the plain in the direction of the line-house. It was Durran, and his eyes gleamed as he noted the almost entire absence of cattle.
“Seems they made a pretty clean sweep,’ he muttered. “Hell, what’s that?’
He had caught sight of the Indian head-dress and in a moment was gazing down at it, a sinister grin on his lips. “So they got him, eh?’ he continued, “an’ got him good by the look of it. Well, that’ll put a crimp in yu, Mister Man.’
He spurred his mount to the cabin, sprang down and thrust open the door. At the sight which greeted him he leant against the doorpost and rocked winh laughter. Bent and Nigger, hog -nied and helpless, lay sprawling on the floor. A simultaneous curse from both cut short his merriment.
“Come an’ ease off these ropes an’ stop yore jackass bray,’ supplemented Nigger. “Jeffs shore knows all about knots, blast him.’
Durran slashed them loose with his knife, still chuckling, and the bound men stood up and chafed their aching limbs. “Glad yu fellers had this end of it,’ commented their rescuer. “Just a mite unnecessary, warn’t it?’
“No, it warn’t,’ replied Bent. “Jeffs aims to play safe. S’pose one o’ the other boys, or some o’ the Frying Pan outfit had sifted in before yu, how’s it goin’ to look for us? An’ he shore did a good job, cuss him.’
“Green’s a-layin’ out there,’ Durran said, jerking his thumb towards the open door. “Looks like he’s cashed.’
“Cashed nothin’—just a tap with a gun,’ said Bent. “I did that when they first rushed us.’
“Yu did?’ ejaculated Durran, and then suddenly comprehending, “Why, o’ course, it musta been one o’ yu. Ain’t it hell how neat it’s workin’ out, an’ won’t Rattler be pleased to see him?’
“He’ll be a gladder sight than four aces; reckon we’d better fetch him in.’
Green was still unconscious when they laid him in one of the bunks, and having removed his guns and tied his feet together, began to bathe the gash on his head. Under their ministrations he came to his senses but it was some little time before he could realise what had happened. Then he began to get a glimmering of the trap which had been so artfully prepared, and into which he had blundered blindly.
After a meal Durran rode off again to carry the news to the ranch. The other two men sat at the door conversing in low nones, and taking no notice of the prisoner. The reflections of the latter were the reverse of pleasant. He was in a tight place, caught in the act of rustling, and by the custom of the country the nearest tree and a rope would be his portion when the foreman of the Y Z arrived. His one chance lay in being taken to the ranch and having speech with Simon, and he doubted whether Blaynes would give him that opportunity. Lying there, his head throbbing painfully, he suddenly became aware that the voices from the doorway were louder, and he could hear something of what was said.
“The Y Z first an’ then the Frying Pan,’ said Bent. “The Spider ain’t no small thinker, I reckon.’
“An’ with him out o’ the way things’ll go a-hummin,’ put in Nigger, and Green guessed that the reference was to himself. “Dunn why, but I allus suspected that feller.’
“Same here,’ agreed his friend. “Well, he won’t trouble none of us soon, though it seems almost a pity to rub out a chap as can lick the Spider in a fist fight, don’t it?’
“Shucks, he musta been lucky.’
“Mebbe, but I saw him lay out Rattler an’ there warn’t no luck about that eepisode, believe me.’
“Yeah, an’ Rattler ain’t forgot it, so I guess yu don’t have to worry,’ said Nigger. “We better have a look at the tracks them damn rustlers left.’
He heard them laugh and go for their horses. They knew their prisoner was secure, for not only was he bound but he had no horse to get away on. The captive also realised the futility of thoughts of escape, and with the philosophy of a man who has been in desperate circumstances before, he awaited events. He was, in fact, asleep when the foreman, accompanied by the Y Z outfit, arrived in the afternoon. Rattler’s eyes, as they reste
d on the bound man in the bunk, betrayed venomous satisfaction.
“Just what I allus thought,’ he sneered. “Got yu with the goods, too. Well, we ain’t no time to waste. Fetch him along an’ pick out a good rope.’
But the foreman was taking too much for granted. His party included Snap, Larry, Dirty, and Simple, and when the prisoner saw them grouped together he wished he had not been so tight-mouthed about his plan of campaign. He need not have worried, for the foreman’s order had no sooner been uttered than Lunt stepped forward.
“Hold yore horses, Blaynes,’ he said quietly. “There ain’t goin’ to be no hangin’ here.’
The foreman whirled on him, his features twisted with rage. Snap returned his glare through slitted eyes, contemptuously, his thumbs hooked in his gun-belt, but all there knew that he was ready, and that his opponent’s first move would in all probability be also his last. Blaynes knew it too, and had recourse to bluster.
“How long yu been in charge o’ this outfit?’ he stormed. “An’ where’d yu get yore authority to countermand my orders?’ Takin’ them questions as they come, I’ve been in charge ever since I joined the outfit,’ sneered Lunt. “An’ as for authority, well, what’s the matter with these?’ and he swept the tips of his fingers over the black butts of his guns.
Blaynes would have given ten years of his life for the power no snatch out his weapon, but he knew he could not do it. Had it been any other man in the outfit he would not have hesitated, but this grim bow-legged little puncher was a chilly proposinion; the squinting, mocking eyes told that he would shoot to kill, and was hungering for the opportunity. Rattler preferred to temporise.
Oliver Strange - Sudden Westerns 01 - The Range Robbers(1930) Page 19