the Rustlers Of West Fork (1951)
Page 13
The Mexican woman entered at Soper's call and began putting food on the table. Several times Johnny surprised her looking at them with interest, and her eyes, when they went to Soper, held something else. Could it be fear? Nelson shrugged. It was scarcely likely, for no more agreeable sort could be found than Soper.
"Where's Dick Jordan?" Mesquite demanded suddenly. The question was sharply asked, and it almost caught Soper off balance, yet suddenly he perceived that a time had come for change. "Dick Jordan left," he said, "with his daughter and a man called Cassidy. They got away, and Avery Sparr is chasing them."
The two exchanged glances, and Mesquite lifted his coffee cup, his mind working swiftly.
Who and what was Soper? He seemed friendly, yet Mesquite was a young man more than usually gifted with suspicion. Yet if he was not friendly, why tell them what he just had?
Soper continued to talk. "There's been a bad situation here," he said gravely, "and personally I know very little about it. Most of my duties have been away from the ranch, handling business with this venture and others in which Mr. Jordan was concerned. He has, you know, some mining interests also."
Jenkins did not know, but he was listening and willing to learn. In the meantime, the food was good, and he was hungry. Johnny Nelson was devoting himself to the food, but his eyes and ears were busy. Above all, the Mexican woman interested him. She would, of course, be a holdover from the old days on the Circle J. She would know all that had happened, and if she would talk, and had a chance to talk, she might explain a lot of things. The thing was to get the chance to talk to her alone and, moreover, to win her confidence. That she was curious about them, Nelson was aware, and she had seen the brands on their horses.
"I'm afraid," Soper suggested carefully and gravely, "that Avery Sparr has exceeded himself.
I rarely saw Mr. Jordan or his daughter unless he was present, and many orders were relayed to me through him, but some of the orders have appeared-well, unlikely, to say the least."
While they ate, several riders had drifted in from outlying parts of the ranch, and Johnny had seen them studying the two horses and looking toward the ranch. Among them was a lean, buck-toothed man who walked around them very slowly, glanced at the house, then disappeared in the direction of the bunkhouse.
"I don't," Soper continued, "even know much about the events here. I know that Cassidy seemed to feel that Mr. Jordan and Pamela were held against their will, and he got them away. From Sparr's actions I would surmise that he was correct, for Avery Sparr went off in pursuit, taking some of the toughest hands with him."
Arnold Soper was thinking as he talked, but he was thinking far ahead of his speech. Avery Sparr might catch Hopalong Cassidy, and if he did, somebody would be killed. If it was Cassidy, then Sparr would return at once to the ranch; if it was Sparr, then Soper would appear as a friend and nothing could be proved to the contrary-at least, he added, not easily. The Jordans might not know anything themselves. Or, he corrected himself, remembering Pamela, not much.
In Mesquite and Johnny Nelson he saw two men who could be used to destroy Avery Sparr, and with Sparr out of the way, all would be well.
Of course it would be much better if the Jordans were removed, but by this time Sparr might have accomplished that. Knowing the ruthlessness of Sparr when aroused, Soper was quite sure that he would succeed. Soper hoped he would-and get killed in the process.
If he did not, there were possible tools of his defeat here in these two men. "No need for you two to push on," he suggested. "There would be no chance to catch up to Cassidy now. Not in time, anyway.
If Sparr catches him, or even if he fails, he will have to come back here. The way I see it, we're going to have snow, and when it comes all the passes will be blocked. Sparr will never keep on into the mountains then; it would be sheer suicide."
"You think Hoppy was ft-yin' for Alma?"
Mesquite inquired.
"Certain of it. There is no other place to go.
Alma has some law-abiding citizens, and of course some that are not. Still, if he got to Alma with Dick Jordan and Pamela, they have friends there, and they would all be safe."
"If I know Hoppy," Johnny said, "he won't be looking for safety! He'll be huntin' Avery Sparr!"
"That's him, all right," Mesquite agreed, "an' he'll not rest until he smokes out every one of this gang."
"You have a lot of faith in him," Soper suggested. Mesquite's words had brought a little chill of uneasiness to him. But why be foolish?
Hopalong Cassidy was just a cowhand who happened to be handy with a gun. "Sparr may be the better man."
"I've heard of Sparr," Johnny admitted, "but I've yet to see the man who could stack up against Hopalong." He refilled his cup. "Who's in this with Sparr? Was he the only one?"
"Bizco was killed at Horse Springs the other night." Soper turned his eyes toward Mesquite. "By you, I believe."
"Uh-huh. I heard that was his name. What about the others?" "Well"--Soper was cautious-"Cassidy killed Barker, but there is another one, Anse Mowry. He is totally vicious, and a man named Proctor. Then Mark Connor, the bartender in Horse Springs, is an old friend of Sparr. Most of the men with him would leave in a hurry if anything happened to Avery Sparr. He's the ringleader."
"How come you got along with him?" Johnny asked casually. Soper waved a hand. "He needed me, and I believed I might help the Jordans. I did not understand the situation here, but I knew they derived some comfort from my presence. So I stayed on. Also"-he made the remark very casual-"I have interests here myself."
"Another partner?" Mesquite asked.
Soper looked quickly at the cowhand. Had there been any sarcasm in that remark? But Mesquite was eating quietly and scarcely seemed to have noticed. "Not exactly," Soper said carefully, "but I have interests. I had been doing some selling for the ranch and some buying for myself. I have cattle on this range, under my brand."
"Which is?"
"The Circle S."
Soper's reply was low-voiced, as he did not want the Mexican woman to hear. And he did not think it necessary to add that Sparr believed that the Circle S was his brand, but had entrusted the registration of the brand to Soper, who had filed it in his own name, having his own plans. Every head of stock that Sparrs men branded was branded for Arnold Soper. "I figured that was Sparr's brand,"
Johnny said. "He has no brand. He talked some of filing one, but never did. I think he was mainly interested in stealing stock from Jordan. Some of the men working with him are notorious rustlers."
As Soper sat there, he knew that every word he said would make his life less secure if Sparr was not killed soon. Yet he knew that Cassidy had precipitated the whole situation to such an extent that he must follow through now or not at all. There was every chance that Sparr would catch the Jordans, or they would be killed in the mountains. Hopalong might be killed and might not, but whatever happened, he must be prepared. The return of Avery Sparr must be met with these men, these two who faced him. "Avery Sparr," he began carefully, "is a dangerous man. The longer he lives the more we all are in danger. He hates Cassidy, and if he catches him will kill or be killed. He will not"-he spoke the words in a fiat, cold, emphatic voice-"leave the trail until Cassidy is dead. Therefore, if Avery Sparr rides into this ranch yard, you can take it from me that Hopalong Cassidy is finished."
Mesquite scowled. Despite all his confidence in Hopalong, he was worried. After all, the man had been burdened by a crippled man and a girl, he had gone into unknown mountains in Apache country, and he was being followed by nine tough, hard-bitten men, all of them killers when the price or reason was right.
"Well," he said quietly, "if Avery Sparr comes back here, he can die mighty easy."
Soper nodded: "He should. He is a man better off dead."
He got to his feet. "Take your time eating.
If you want to rest, take it easy around the house.
No use going to the bunkhouse unless you want to have trouble with lesser l
ights. Sparr may show up anytime. Just stick around. I'll be back shortly."
He walked outside and paused. Right now he felt very much like a slack-wire walker above Niagara Falls. Death lay with any misstep.
Actually, he liked the feel of it. He drew deeply on his cheroot and considered what lay ahead.
Mesquite was deadly, and the other man was probably competent, but he himself would be standing in the shadows of the porch with a rifle. He would leave nothing to chance. As for the others- He would call the bunch from Turkey Springs Canyon, in the Elks. They would handle these. Only four men he had, but picked men. He smiled suddenly. Avery Sparr had been a fool to lay a thing like this in his lap! Where Avery had made enemies, he had made friends, and Avery Span little knew how carefully his groundwork had been laid. Two could play at such a steal, and between the gun and the brain the latter must always be victor.
Yet confident as he was, he was a careful and a considering man. So now, even at this stage of the game, with the whole situation far advanced, he went over every detail again in his mind. It was much like playing poker, and the secret of it was never to let your antagonists guess how little or how much you might be holding.
It was a law of survival that one must always adapt oneself to changes and conditions. He who refuses to adapt does not last. He may win credit for being stubborn, but he loses or dies.
It was in the nature of Arnold Soper to adapt himself, and his every sense was alert to every change. Behind him Mesquite stared into his coffee cup and then looked up at Johnny. "Something about this doesn't look so good."
"Nothing about it looks good."
"Maybe this hombre is on the level."
"Maybe--an' again maybe not."
"Let's figger like he's not, then we'll be on the safe side."
"When you read sign," Johnny suggested, "you don't get far if you foller only what you see.
A man has got to use his imagination, put himself in the place of the man he's follerin', and see where you would go if you was him."
"This here Soper looks smart."
"Uh-huh. He looks smart, he acts smart, but he takes orders an' does what he's told like a good little boy, all white an' innocent."
"Yuh think so? Maybe. But let's, like we said, play like he's smart. Let's figger he gets wise that somethin' doesn't smell right.
Maybe the Jordans were prisoners here. Maybe Sparr is tryin' for a big steal. Maybe this Soper ain't honest."
"Let's figger he's not."
"All right. He can be partners with Sparr, he can work for him, or he can work for himself an' pretend he's worldn' for him. If he's doin' that last, he knows Sparr is nobody to fool with. He knows he's double-crossin' a tough hombre who would fill him with lead so quick it would make his head swim if he figgered there was a reason. Maybe he figgers Sparr smells somethin' wrong, what would he do?"
"Try to get Sparr killed."
"Right. An' who better to do it than two wanderin' pilgrims like us? Two gun-handy pilgrims who figger they've a grudge against him."
"He's right about one thing," Johnny said. "We can't help Hopalong now. That chase is too far away. If we can help him, it would be here, or maybe Horse Springs."
"Maybe we better have a look around. Around this house, I mean. An' maybe that Mexican woman can tell us somethin'. his "I'll bet she can."
Mesquite eased back the bench on which he sat and got to his feet. He stepped quickly through the door into the empty room beyond. Johnny, after a quick glance, turned toward the kitchen. Both men worked rapidly, and both were accustomed to reading sign, to observing, that is, and drawing deductions from what they saw.
Mesquite noticed the door to the Jordans' room and stepped through. The first thing he saw was the bar.
It was not reasonable to expect a bar on the inside of a door within a house. A quick survey of the room and he was positive of one thing. Two people had lived here. Two beds, a closet full of the girl's clothing, and one partly filled with clothing belonging to Dick Jordan. Nowhere did he find a gun or where one had been. Why would two people owning a large ranch house with all of a dozen rooms confine themselves to one? Without doubt the Jordans had been prisoners here, and they had evidently had instructions to allow nobody into the room but Avery Sparr or some one or two of his henchmen. That was obvious from the bar on the inside.
Also, Mesquite correctly deduced what he was already cer- 163 tain of, that they had left swiftly and taken few things with them. He returned to the dining room and glanced out. Soper stood by the corrals, looking off toward the mountains. He stood as if listening.
Johnny emerged from the kitchen, his face bright with knowledge.
"We hit it!" he said eagerly and grimly. "She talked plenty! She has no use for Sparr, less for Soper. This hombre Soper is peculiar. He looks so nice, but he whacked this Mexican cook a couple of times when she didn't give him fast enough service.
"She says they were prisoners here, the Jordans. Only a few people were allowed to see them.
She's afraid of Sparr, but she is more afraid of Soper."
Mesquite nodded. "We've done some good guessing. Now to figger this a little bit. Let's figger Hoppy isn't comin' back." At Johnny's shocked expression Mesquite hastily said, "Not that I think he ain't. I'd gamble my life on it. He's tough to handle. What I mean is, let's figger he ain't comin' back.
This here place goes to whoever's next of kin if Jordan's daughter is killed. It don't go to either Sparr or Soper, all right?" "Uh-huh.
So we scotch their snake."
"Right." Mesquite chuckled. "Wouldn't Red an' Lanky be happy to be here now? They'll throw a fit when they find out we tied up with Hoppy after all."
"Hey."
Johnny was looking out the window, and Mesquite stepped to his shoulder. The air was filled with slowly drifting snowflakes. Johnny stared at Mesquite's face, colder than death now. Both men were thinking the same thing. Hopalong Cassidy was in the mountains, high in the mountains with few passes and no winter clothing.
Both men knew how bitterly cold those mountains could be. Both knew how rapidly a man loses the warmth from his body in the biting and icy winds at high altitudes, even under the best of conditions. Hoppy alone was bad enough, but burdened with a crippled man and a girl-
"If he don't make it"-Mesquite's voice was low and ugly-"I'll kill every man ever connected with this mess!"
"Yeah," Johnny said soberly. "I'm in on that too."
"I feel like goin' out there, an'-was Mesquite's lips thinned with fury and his fingers strayed to a gun butt.
"No good," Johnny said quietly. "We'll wait. Maybe somethin' will break that will show us our way. One thing we know. Come hell or high water, we clean out this rat's nest or they bury us both on the Gila!"
Arnold Soper stared toward the house.
The two gunfighters had not come out yet. Well, let them take it easy. There would be time enough. In the meantime-he glanced at his gold watch-it would be better if the boys in Turkey Spring Canyon were down here. Maybe he could slip away and ride up there, but it was long, almost twenty miles. The snow was falling faster and faster now, and the ground was white with it.
Johnny Nelson came out and took both horses and led them to the stable. Mesquite lounged just inside the door. Arnold Soper still stood before the corrals, watching the snow and occasionally glancing toward the higher mountains.
Mesquite heard the Mexican cook raking the ashes from her stove and preparing to begin a new fire for the evening meal. Yet it was still early and much could happen. Restlessly, irritably, he got to his feet. If he could only get to Hoppy! At least he could be doing something instead of waiting!
He walked back to the window, and he was standing there watching Soper when suddenly the man started forward and stared toward the mountains. He started to run, ran a few steps, then stopped as two riders raced pell-mell into the yard.
Mesquite stiffened and leaned forward, staring. Neither rider was Hopalong, and from the d
escriptions neither was Avery Sparr. Yet he could see at a glance that both these men had been hurt and their horses had been run half to death. He went to the door and stepped out on the porch, but could hear nothing of what was said, although both men were talking.
Finally a man came from the bunkhouse and took their horses, and Soper went into the bunkhouse with the new arrivals.
Snow fell softly but thickly in an ever-deepening blanket. Johnny walked from the stable and stood staring down at the snow where the two men had stood, and then he walked on to the house.
"Bleedin'," he said, "both of "em hurt. One of 'em opened a wound on the ride.
"Looks like they caught up with Hoppy," he said grimly, "an" Sparr wasn't one of them. That means that Hopalong is still movin' west."
"Or cornered."
"Let's go find out!"
They started for the door and crowded through it. In swift strides they crossed the snow-covered yard toward the bunkhouse. As they reached the door, it opened, and framed in the doorway was Arnold Soper. He glanced quickly from one to the other. "Don't go in there!" he said sharply.
"There's no need!"
"We want to talk to those hombres that just came in."
"You don't have to. I'll tell you what you need to know." He stepped outside and closed the door behind him.
"Those men were wounded." Mesquite's voice was flat. He was beginning to dislike Soper, and he had never cared for him.
Only before he had been indifferent to the man. Now he was beginning to resent him. .
"That's right." Soper spoke easily. For an instant he had been in a panic. If these two should happen to repeat some of what he had said, it might spoil everything. "Cassidy tricked Sparr. He led some Apaches into Sparr, then slipped away while they were fighting. These men were wounded in that fight.
One than was killed."
"Cassidy got away?"
"Yes. And when these men left they still had not found his trail. Of course by now they probably have. They have a Piute tracker with them." The important thing was that Hopalong was still alive; he was still moving.