the Rustlers Of West Fork (1951)

by L'amour, Louis - Hopalong 03

"That's tough. Nobody has a right to run a business where a lot of murderin', back-shootin' coyotes like this hang out. You know me, Bales!

  Start shooting or close up!"

  Bales gulped and slowly heaved a deep sigh.

  "Well, it looks like a mighty cold winter here, anyway." He looked slowly around the room. "As of now"-Bales sighed again-"consider the Eagle Saloon closed."

  Carefully the men got to their feet and started for the door, and one by one they shucked their guns. One man hesitated, and looked longingly after his pistol.

  "Cost me a tough month's wages," he said. "Will I get it back?" "No." Hopalong was relentless. "Next time you earn a gun you may learn to pack it in better company an' for a better cause. Keep movin'!" Within ten minutes the saloon was dark and still. Running a piece of rope picked up from behind the bar through the trigger guards of the guns, Hopalong slung them over his shoulder.

  Coolly he walked down to the sheriff's office and banged on the door. A sleepy-looking, unshaven officer in a red flannel undershirt and sock feet came to the door. "What's the fuss, mister? Go sleep it off before I throw you in the clink!"

  Without more than a glance Hopalong dumped the guns on the floor. The sheriff stared, blinking his eyes at them. "What Hopalong looked up at him, and his frosty eyes made the sheriff back up. "I've just dosed the Eagle," Cassidy said calmly. "These guns belong to the hombres I run out of there. Do what you've a mind to with "em, but don't give 'em back to that outfit or I'll come over here an" pull every hair out of your mustache one by one!"

  "You what?" The sheriff's face swelled with fury. "Now, see here, young fel-to "

  He stopped, seeming to get the gist of Cassidy's remarks for the first time. He swallowed and stared.

  "You closed the Eagle?" he exclaimed in amazement. "You took those hombres' hardware off "em?"

  Cassidy was already walking away down the street.

  An early riser stopped in front of the sheriff and stared at the guns, then at Hopalong's retreating back. "Hey, who was that?" he asked.

  Dazed, the sheriff turned to look at him.

  "Mister," he said reverently, "I got no idea who he is, but b'lieve me he's the toughest hombre that ever come west o" the Pecos!"

  When Arnold Soper left the Circle J, he rode due north by the Indian Creek trail toward Turkey Springs Canyon. If ever he was going to act, the time was now. There was nothing more he could do on the J, and in fact his presence there might become infinitely dangerous if any of the men at the ranch or those who were to come would talk to Mesquite and Johnny.

  He doubted whether they would get anything out of Cuyas or Hank Lydon, but it was possible.

  However, in any event the safest place for him was out of the picture completely. His mission to Turkey Springs was simplicity itself. He had four tough men there, and they had already been well instructed in their jobs. They knew where payment was to come from, and all that would remain would be the sweeping up, with guns, of a few odds and ends. They might have to kill Sparr, but that, too, might be taken care offor them.

  Avery Sparr was not yet back at the ranch and he might catch Cassidy and in the shoot-out somebody was sure to be killed. Such men do not often miss. In any event, one of his enemies was almost certain to be eliminated. When the returning rustlers showed up at the ranch, Soper started them off at once, for it was to his interests that the Jordans and Cassidy be eliminated.

  So, as he started north, the situation looked very good. He could almost surely write off the Jordans and Cassidy. If they escaped Sparr, there were the mountains, and if they got through the snow and over the heights, there were the Sparr men awaiting them on the other end. Bizco was dead, Barker was dead, and both of them were men to be taken account of. That left, aside from Sparr himself, if he survived, Johnny Rebb-a very uncertain quantity-and Anse Mowry. Both men were dangerous, although he knew most about Mowry. With the others he anticipated little trouble. But it was these three, and after them Proctor, Framson, and Mark Connor, whom he wanted wiped out. And then he would be in the saddle and would have everything his own way.

  Unknown to him, several things had happened at the Circle J. Mesquite and Johnny had some information from the two wounded men, and Hank Lydon had started for Horse Springs with the warning from Mesquite. Mesquite himself, with Johnny Nelson, had followed the tracks of the racing horsemen a way, and then had seen Soper's tracks turn off. Soper had dismounted right off the trail to tighten his cinch, and from the tracks of the new boots they had surmised who it was.

  They wanted nothing better than this. Mesquite, a tracker almost as good as any Indian, led the way down his trail. Wherever Soper was going they intended to go too. Snow was falling steadily, and the trail was easy to follow if they did not fall too far behind, but they could afford to ride fairly close, for the snow drew a curtain between them. Yet it was because of the snow that they lost him. The tracks petered out in an open place where the snow was swept clean by the wind, and it was almost an hour before they found them again. Consequently they were well behind, and now the trail was being covered very rapidly by the sifting snow.

  At Turkey Springs the four men were waiting restlessly for orders, and when Soper arrived, he paid each man a hundred dollars on account and told them how the other nine hundred promised them could be made. The Hardy boys, Jim and Dave, came from Mississippi by way of Texas, while the Coyote Kid was a half-breed Kiowa who had teamed up with Oklahoma Tom at Mobeetie.

  The four had one distinction aside from downright gun skillthey were not squeamish. They would kill at any time or any place if the price was right. Yet not one of them would hesitate to face any man in a gun battle, and Soper had chosen well, as he knew. In a brief talk he told them that now was the time to get started, then rode on, planning a quick trip to Horse Springs to let matters get settled around the Circle J.

  It was his nature to be absent when things were happening, and Horse Springs would be a place where he could be much in evidence and so have a perfect alibi for all that happened. This would fit very well with his serious, honest air and would confirm people in their opinion of him-that he was a nice young man unwittingly embroiled in gun fighting and thievery. Exactly one hour after he left, two riders drifted into the canyon on his trail and were immediately seen by the Coyote Kid. His call brought the others. "Know "em?" he asked.

  "Looks like the two he mentioned," Dave Hardy said, "an" they are on the list."

  "But not important," his brother protested.

  "Pay no attention." Oklahoma Tom shrugged.

  "Why wait?" he asked. "We might as well take "em while we got 'em. Anyway, they are trailin" Soper. 11 He hitched his guns into position and walked toward the corrals. The Coyote Kid had his rifle in his hand. He walked to one side and dropped on a bench at the cabin door, the rifle across his knees. In the past he had found it an unexpected position for shooting, and with practice he had acquired a skill that enabled him to empty the gun into a water bucket without lifting the rifle from his knees. The Hardy boys, ten feet apart, lounged in the open, waiting for Mesquite and Johnny. Mesquite noticed the man idling by the corral and the somewhat suggestive rifle. "Well, what do' you know?" he said to Johnny. "These hombres are all set up for trouble."

  "Must be friends of Soper."

  "That means they ain't friends of ours."

  "Let's talk to "em first. Hopalong always advised me against shootin" too quick."

  Mesquite drew in his horse and looked down at the Hardy boys, then slid from the saddle. He liked to work with the ground under him, even if it was snow.

  "Huntin' somebody?" Dave Hardy demanded.

  "Not necessarily. Have we found anybody?"

  Johnny stayed in the saddle, his eyes alert and eager.

  "Funny feller!" Dave sneered. "Where you headin'?" "Sort of lookin' after that hombre up ahead. Right curious about his friends."

  "Meanin' us?"

  Johnny examined them thoughtfully. "Nope.

  Don't
reckon any of you was ever friendly to anybody unless you was paid for it. This here looks like a renegade outfit if ever I saw one."

  "You talk mighty free, stranger."

  "Folks have said that afore, haven't they, Mesquite?" Johnny watched the Coyote Kid. "You know, that hombre on the bench could get hisself shot mighty easy, playin' around with that rifle like he is."

  "Who would shoot him?" Dave Hardy demanded. He wanted to get on with it now it had started.

  "Why, most anybody who didn't like to have a gun pointed at him. 11 Johnny reined his sorrel away and although he could not immediately shift the rifle, he left the Kid without a target.

  "I figger you hombres better drift. Yore on Circle J range."

  "We got a right to be."

  Dave Hardy was wondering. He had heard of the Double Y. It was a tough outfit.

  "Jordan give you the right?" Johnny asked.

  "Jordan?" Hardy laughed harshly. "Why, that of fool ain't got no say about anythin'! He's through!"

  "Not the way we see it."

  Johnny let his horse take three steps forward, which placed him right between the Coyote Kid and Oklahoma Tom. Both could fire on him, but every shot would be an equal danger for the man beyond.

  Mesquite was standing free of his horse now, his hands at his sides. Both of the former Double y hands knew what sort of position they were in and what to do about it. Mesquite, a lone wolf until recently, found his heart warming anew to Johnny Nelson, whom he had learned to like next-best to Hopalong himself.

  Mesquite was a fighter, and he knew little else, and Johnny's generalship in getting between the other two amused him. He knew just what it could mean in such a fight. Each of the gunmen would have to exercise very great care to keep from shooting his partner, and that instant of deliberation would be all Johnny would need. Mesquite chuckled, and the Hardy boys looked at him suspiciously.

  "Looks like you are fixin' to go someplace,"

  Mesquite suggested. "Get your orders from Soper?"

  "Don't know him." Dave Hardy was nervous.

  He didn't like Johnny's position at all, for in addition to putting himself between the two on the bench and at the corral, his position flanked their own.

  "Who's he?" "The hombre who left his horse right there"-Mesquite Jenkins pointed at the spot where the tracks were plainly visible"... While he went inside to talk. He spent some little time too."

  "Smart feller, aren't you?" Dave replied, unable to find the exact words to start trouble and no longer sure how much he wanted it. "You huntin' trouble?"

  "Uh-huh." Mesquite took another step forward and paused. "You got any? Whether you have or not; I'm suggestin' you give an account of yourselves or drift."

  The Coyote Kid was getting nervous, and Oklahoma Tom, full of fight, was tired of talking. He stepped clear of his corral corner and yelled at the Hardys. "What's the matter? We want to kill "em, don't we? Then have at it!"

  His own gun swung up, and Johnny's draw was a flashing, instant thing. In that moment the still, wintry peace of the snowcovered canyon was shattered by crashing guns. A thunder of shots, a pause, and then another shot, and then a final one.

  Mesquite had drawn the instant the Hardys moved, and both guns came up spouting lead.

  Utterly cold, he was one of those men, like Billy the Kid, who have no nerves when under fire. He took a step forward, and as his guns bellowed he saw Jim Hardy back up and sit down suddenly, then grab his stomach and roll over in the snow, moaning and whining. Dave Hardy had taken the first shot and it had been a near nuss, hitting Johnny on the gun belt near the right hip and spinning him half around and off balance. Not only off balance, but out of the shooting for the split second it took Mesquite to get a bullet into Jim.

  As Dave started to swing back, Mesquite nailed him with his second shot, and then walked in, hammering lead into both falling men. Johnny's first shot had clipped splinters from the corral corner, and the second hit Oklahoma Tom in the chest. The bullet smashed through his lung and nicked a rib, staggering Tom, who stood fiat-footed and got off a shot that killed Johnny's sorrel but saved his life, for as Johnny sprang clear of the falling horse, rifle bullets roared past his ears from the bench where the Kid sat.

  Johnny sprang around, planting his foot as he completed the turn and slip-shot three fast ones at the Kid. The Coyote Kid felt one bullet go past his face, and he lost his enthusiasm for murder.

  Leaping to his feet, he sprang toward the end of the house, and as he rounded the corner he whirled and caught Johnny's bullet in his throat. The shooting was over as suddenly as it began. Mesquite had a bullet-burned shoulder and Johnny a dead horse.

  The two Hardys lay within inches of each other, both sprawled out and dead. Oklahoma Tom sat against the corral fence coughing blood and dying slowly, while the Coyote Kid was already dead, his rifle lying on the ground a few feet away.

  Both Mesquite and Johnny walked toward Tom. Blood trickled over his chin, and he stared at them gloomily. "Never figgered on this," he said, "but I guess I had it comin"." He coughed and spat blood, and his lips fumbled for words.

  "Wished I knew somebody to tell good-bye, but I reckon there ain't anybody, "less it's Mabel up at Horse Springs. If you see her, give her my watch, will you? She was-she was --good scout."

  "Sure," Johnny said. "I'll make it a point."

  Oklahoma Tom's eyes glazed, then sharpened.

  "No-no hard feelin's?" "No," Johnny said.

  "All in the game."

  "Yeah."

  Oklahoma Tom looked puzzled.

  "I guess I throwed a loop over the wrong life somewheres back down the line."

  He coughed again, and then coughed harder, and died coughing, with his head against the poles of the corral.

  Arnold Soper did not get to Horse Springs.

  For some reason he was worried, and he disliked to think of what might be happen- 201 ing at the Circle J. His curiosity and need for knowledge were so great that he turned around at Coyote Tanks and started back, heading through Turkey Springs Canyon once more. Thus it was that he missed Mesquite and Johnny by minutes but walked right into the shambles they had left behind. One look was enough to start bim retching, and he turned away. Yet after a few minutes he straightened up with a start and a sudden sinking feeling. His ace in the hole was gone. These four men on whom he had expended so much, and upon whom he had depended so much, were gone. What would he do now?

  Swiftly he surveyed the field of possibilities. He himself had no stomach for shooting. He could shoot and was a good shot, but the risk was something he did not wish to consider. Bizco and Barker were dead, and when all was said and done, only two men remained who might be able to help him, and of those two he was not at all certain, and with neither of them had he been friendly. They were Anse Mowry and Johnny Rebb. Rebb was fairly dose to Sparr, he knew. On the other hand, it was Soper's belief that all men had a price, and in this Johnny Rebb was included. He decided at once that Johnny Rebb was the man he must see.

  And where Rebb was he did not know, but he must surely be en route to the ranch. Arnold Soper, disgusted and more worried than he would have cared to admit even to himself, mounted his horse and started back over the trail to the Circle J. Three times in the ensuing hour he drew up, and three times he had almost decided to leave, to run out, to get away, but three times he shook his head and continued.

  It was dark when he paused for the fourth time. There was no sense in this. Already there had been too much killing. The chance of a quiet steal was gone, and there would surely be many questions asked now. It would be better to throw in his cards and leave. There was nothing belonging to him at the ranch that was really important. It was silly to go back there, actually. Sparr must be back by now, and somehow Soper felt a foreboding about meeting the big gunman. No, he would go back to Horse Springs, ride outside of town, and catch the first stage west.

  He had turned his horse to start back to town when he remembered the watch. It was a
keepsake, the sort of thing a person carries around with him for years. It had been given to him for writing an essay on the causes of the War of the Revolution when he was fourteen years old, and although it was not a good watch, he had kept it for a long time. He hesitated, then turned back. Upon such decisions do men's lives rest, for in turning back to get the useless watch he was turning back to his death.

  Along the length and the breadth of the Gila River country there was a sort of hushed waiting. Even in areas of the upper river, where nothing was known of events around the Circle J, vague rumors were being bandied about. The Eagle Saloon in Ahna was dosed. There had been killings in Horse Springs and on the T Bar. Armed men were riding the country, and it was ru- mored that a cattle war was in the making.

  Yet all through the upper Gila country people were aware that a change was taking place. Mesquite Jenkins and Johnny Nelson had come into Horse Springs only a few hours behind Hank Lydon, and Hank had told his story well. The appearance of the two and the death of Tony Cuyas were now the latest topics of conversation, also the Circle J's brief but bitter battle with the Apaches in the high basin country. And in Horse Springs the dis- gruntled rustler who had left his treasured .45 on the floor of the Eagle was talking.

  "Yeah," he said bitterly, "it was Cassidy all right. Dead? That hombre ain't anywhere dose to bein" dead!

  He's the livest corpse I ever did see, an' b'heve me I've seen a few! He closed the Eagle up tighter'n a drum. Yeah, left the country. Chet just took right out. Said he knowed Cassidy from away back." He shook his head and turned to listen to a query. "Uh-huh," he said, "the two on Silver Crick got it. They went up to that miner's cabin, an' they was holed up there when Cassidy come in on "em. They tried to make a scrap of it. They hadn't no luck. Both of 'em drawed black deuces in that game."

  Tedhet slowly got up from his heavy chair and walked along the bar to where Mark Connor was wiping a glass. "You better slope, Mark. Stage will be in party soon, an" you better get your duffel an' hit the road." "Me?" Connor was shocked.

  "You firin' me?"

  "If you like." Teilhet shook his head.