"Now what are you fussin' about, kid? You got something on your mind." He spoke not unkindly, and Billy looked quickly at him. He was never sure about this man who was his father. Old enough to know the mission of the men who came and went in the night around the ranch, he also knew that his father permitted it. He was aware that nothing his father could do would make them stop, and although ashamed of his father for not standing up to them, he understood how he must feel. To stand up to them meant to die or get beaten, and after that, what would have changed? "That bunch"-Billy was not sure how his father would take it "they figger to kill Hopalong. I heard "em talkin" of it!" Leeds sat silent.
Cassidy had come to them when they needed help, and he had asked no questions, nor hesitated. Besides, he had already taken a hand in this game. "You know what they planned?"
"Uh-huh. I heard it all."
"They'll be comin' soon," Leeds said. "I doubt if they'll come by Injun Crick, although they may. We'll stop at the cabin corral an'
I'll git a horse for you. Then light out for that peak west o' Cooney Tank. From there you can watch all three trails. When you spot "em-an" be sure it's them-ride like blazes an' head "em off. But mind you, son, don't rush up on 'em sudden. Not them kind of fellers. You're liable to git your stomach full of lead."
"How will I see from up there?" Billy protested. "It's too far!" "Not with this it ain't."
Leeds drew a long marine telescope from under the seat. "Sparr give me this to watch for riders who might be needin" horses fast, so I'd have "em ready. Now we'll put it to some good use. But mind you, son, watch out for any of Sparr's fellers.
They'd shoot you quicker'n a wink!"
How does news travel in the range country?
Men have triea to explain it with such terms as the "grapevine"-meaning that one man told another and he still others, and each of them told more, and so on, until the word was passing from mouth to mouth among thousands of people.
Perhaps this is the explanation, but whatever it is, the range country knows, as does the veldt of South Africa, the bush of Australia, and the jungles of the Amazon, that once one man knows a thing, all know it. In all the far and secret places the news moves, or perhaps it is not news, but only a feeling of portent, a feeling of something imminent.
For days the stories of the happenings at Alma, at Horse Springs, and on the Circle J had been going the rounds. How it traveled so swiftly no man could say, but Sim Thatcher knew all the stories, and on that day he gathered his hands on his home ranch. "If Hopalong needs help," he said flatly, "we'll give it to "From what I hear," the old-timer said dryly, "I don't think he'll need it. Not more'n those two lobos he has helpin" him."
Alma remained quiet. Horse Springs remained quiet. Goff was missing from his old hangout at Clifton's, although just where he had gone nobody knew. At the shack where Hopalong had made the crossing guard cook for him, Arnold Soper at last found Johnny Rebb. He found him sitting alone on the steps, whittling. Soper rode up and swung down. "Good man!" Soper said. "I've been hunting you!"
Rebb looked up without comment. He had never liked Soper and never trusted him. Johnny Rebb was a man born out of his time. He was the perfect type of the feudal retainer of the old days in the Europe of castles and men at arms. If bravery is a virtue, then Rebb was not without it. If loyalty is a worthy thing, then Rebb was worthy, for he had loyalty, even if to the wrong man and at the wrong time.
To Johnny Rebb the cause was nothing, the man everything. He was a born henchman, a born follower.
Despite his utter cruelty, his coldness, his willingness to kill, Avery Sparr had a strain of free-handed generosity, and once in a casual and thoughtless moment he helped a woebegone youngster who had crossed the plains with an outfit of freighters.
He fed him. He staked him to a horse (stolen), a saddle (likewise), a gun (the original owner had been too slow on the draw), and a few dollars. Sparr had gone his way, and Johnny Rebb had teamed up with an older man to collect buffalo bones. While hunting, Johnny practiced with the six-gun and proved to have a natural dexterity, which, coupled with unusual speed of hand and eye and days of practice, soon gave him considerable speed.
Of this speed his partner knew nothing, hearing the shooting but not seeing it, as Johnny Rebb was self-conscious. When the bones were sold and the season was over, with ill-advised confidence the older man tried to gyp Joey. Words led to words, and the wrong words led to guns. The older partner died suddenly, his shocked surprise mirrored in his eyes. He had never managed to start his draw.
Law and order was a new thing in this vicinity, but already was taking itself quite seriously. The town marshal came to arrest Johnny Rebb. His successor was a more sensible man, and Rebb finally left town when he chose. In the following two years five men lost arguments with Johnny Rebb, bringing his total to seven, none of whom had managed to get a gun free of a holster. And then he met Avery Sparr again.
He met him as Avery was robbing a bank, recognized him despite the mask, and when his companions were shot down, Johnny Rebb took up the battle, joined Sparr, and left town with him. Avery Sparr remembered Johnny when the occasion was mentioned, and he knew a priceless loyalty when he found it. Since then, each had stood over the other and protected him in bitter gun battles.
But of this Soper knew nothing, and it is doubtful if it would have mattered. An educated man, a cunning man, even a very smart man, Arnold Soper was morally nearsighted. He was firmly convinced not only that every man had a price, but that the price was cheap.
"This show's about over," Soper suggested carefully, lighting a long black cigar. "We're washed up here. Or Sparr is."
Johnny Rebb shifted his boots but said nothing.
"People know now that he's not on the level. He's made too many enemies. Not even I could save him.
"Cassidy and his friends will be on the ranch soon.
Maybe he'll die there and maybe he won't.
Regardless of that, it will not be the end of trouble, but the beginning. Avery Sparr tried violence and it won't work. Only one man can get this ranch nowonly one!"
"You?"
Johnny Rebb looked up mildly.
Possessed of loyalty, Rebb was also possessed of suspicion, and the chief object of his suspicion for a long time had been Arnold Soper.
With that in mind, Rebb had trailed him more than once. He had known about the men in Turkey Springs Canyon but waited to see what developed. He had known about the secret conferences between Goff and Soper.
"That's right. I am the only one. I can get this ranch, and I can hold it. I can get possession legally, and I have been working on that angle for a long time. But I shall need a good man to help me, and a man to run the ranch after I get it. As you know, I am no cattleman. As to the market, I am at home.
I know prices, and I can sell beef. I know nothing of raising beef or breeding cattle. And you do."
Johnny Rebb crossed one knee over the other. He had an idea what was coming, and he was ready for it. Yet he waited, wanting to hear the man out.
"I need you, Johnny. Together we can make money. Together we can get rich. You could even become a partner, and there's a vast chunk of land here, and we could reach out and take in Sim Thatcher's ranch.
We can do things together."
"Yeah," Rebb agreed, "mebbe. But what do I have to do to git in on all this?" He picked a blade of dry brown grass, not covered by the snow.
"Where do I fit in?"
"We could have this ranch, Johnny, but there are a couple of men in the way. One of those men is Hopalong Cassidy."
Rebb looked up.
"An' the other?"
"Avery Sparr."
Johnny Rebb chewed reflectively on the grass blade. Not one instant did he give to considering the suggestion or what it might or might not mean to him. He thought only of how foolish Sparr had been to use a man like Soper, even for a little while. Such men were not to be trusted. He spat finally, then said, "No."
Soper
stopped in mid-stride. First, he was astonished, and then he was angry. He was astonished because he could not understand anyone being as shortsighted about his own interests as Johnny Rebb; second, he was angry because Johnny Rebb was literally his own last chance. He could not face Sparr alone. Of course, if Sparr made a run for it, there might be a chance, but there were things taking place of which Soper knew nothing.
He did not, for example, know that Sparr's decision was already made. "No?" he demanded.
"What do you mean? This is the chance of a lifetime, Rebb! A chance for money, an assured position in the community! A chance to grow richer and richer, and right here in our hands, and we can swing it. Sparr can't swing it. We can. You and 1. And you say you don't want to?" "I don't." Rebb got to his feet.
"As for you," he said carelessly, his eyes cold on Soper's, "I figger you're a two-faced coyote. You'd turn rat on me the way you are on Sparr. You ain't even the shadow of a man.
You're a double-crossin' two-bit rat!"
Coolly he spat at Arnold Soper's feet, then turned his back and started toward his horse.
It was too much. The final defeat of his plans, coupled with the contempt of a man he had secretly sneered at, was too much for him, and Soper, he who had abjured violence, suddenly gave way to his temper and jerked a derringer from his pocket. He had never been known to carry a gun, and the fact that he even possessed one he had kept secret. Yet now he jerked it and cocked the hammer.
The click of the drawn-back hammer was the thing.
On the taut, ever-ready gunman's nerves it acted like an electric shock.
In stride, Johnny whirled, and as he turned he drew, and when he drew, he fired.
His wind knocked out by the slugging blow of the .44, Soper took a step back, gasping. He could not understand what had happened to him. For an instant he believed his own gun had burst in his hand, but there it was, and still cocked, and then he looked up and saw the slow trickle of smoke from Johnny Rebb's gun. Puzzled, he stared at it, and then the gun slipped from his fingers and fell into the snow. His eyes followed it, and they saw something else. There was blood on the snow.
His blood!
Realization came to him then, and suddenly with it came a horror of death. It was horror vented in a scream that broke off halfway, but Arnold Soper did not know he had not finished his scream.
He did not even know he had screamed. He knew nothing at all, and would never know anything again.
Arnold Soper was dead.
Johnny Rebb mounted his horse, looked once more at the body, and then cantered slowly away toward the ranch. It looked like it might snow again.
Chapter 14
JOHNNY REBB MAKES HIS CHOICE
Hopalong Cassidy had taken time for a shave and a bath, so he felt better, and much rested. A well-wisher from among the friendly, honest folk of Horse Springs had loaned him a sorrel that, while not the horse his own was, nevertheless was a fine animal. This was a country that liked good horses, and they had them. He rode without talking, content to keep his eyes on the country. They were restless eyes, all too aware what dangers even the most innocent country can hold.
"Mebbe we should see Thatcher," Nelson suggested. "He'd like to get in on this, I bet."
Mesquite looked his disgust. "You want to go after him? Me, I got'a date with that Johnny Rebb. They tell me he's mean."
"Salty," Nelson said. "I'd bet on it.
He carries himself like it. "Good man gone wrong,"
Hopalong assured them. "I talked to him some, but from all I hear, he's Sparr's ace in the hole."
"Reckon we'll find Soper down here?"
"Mebbe. He'll be around somewheres. Leave it to him to make a try somewhere along the line."
"floppy" Johnny nodded off to the left-"somebody's been drivin' cattle recent."
Cassidy studied the trail off to one side, swinging his sorrel over for a closer look.
"Uh-huh. Maybe twenty head. Drivin'
South."
"Looks like they've started their cleanup," said Johnny. If Sparr's men were driving cattle, they might find few of them at the home ranch.
Hopalong seemed to share this idea with them, for he spoke to his sorrel and moved into a canter.
The other two kept pace. They were abreast of Black Mountain when Hoppy's eye caught a flash of reflected light. He looked quickly, but the light was too far away to be from a rifle. It was well up on the side of a butte out on the plain, probably three miles away. "Somebody's watchin' us with a glass," he said. "Let "em watch." Nelson shrugged his shoulders and began to roll a smoke. "They know we're comin" anyway."
A few minutes later Hopalong caught the flash of a fastridden horse. "That's funny!
He's headin' this way, comin' right to us."
They continued to ride, and they did not talk while they waited. When the rider drew nearer, they saw it was a boy, a slim youngster of fourteen. Then Hopalong recognized him. "Howdy, Bill!" he said, drawing up. "Where you goin so fast?"
"Been watchin' for you!" the boy exclaimed excitedly. "That Sparr feller, he's got an ambush laid for you! He's got six or eight men, all tough hombres, an' they are all set up an' ready.
"There won't be nobody in sight but Sparr when you show up, but there's to be men in the bunkhouse, the blacksmith shop, the storeroom, and the house itself, an' all with rifles an' shotguns. The minute Sparr gives the word, they cut down on you. They are all laid out there now, hidden an' waitin'. My dad says you better beat it, an' if you want Sparr, ketch him somewheres else!" "Thanks, Billy."
Hopalong looked thoughtfully at the horizon, then back at the boy. "How many in the house?"
"Two. That there Proctor will be there with one o' the Gleasons. The Piute an' another o' the Gleason boys will be in the blacksmith shop, Anse Mowry in the storeroom, an' Ed Framson in the corral. That Lydon, he's to be in the bunkhouse."
"What about Johnny Rebb?" Hopalong asked.
"Never heard. He wasn't there when they planned it."
Hopalong started his horse again and walked it slowly forward, but as he rode he was recalling the exact setup of the buildings at the Circle J.
As in most of this Apache country, they formed a small fort in themselves, although not as compactly arranged as those at the T Bar. The large, rambling old house faced the bunkhouse.
Alongside the bunkhouse was the blacksmith shop, and directly across from the shop, and attached to the house itself, was the storeroom where extra food and supplies were kept. Across the end was the barn, a large, shambling structure with a huge loft for hay, and beside it the corrals. At the opposite end the rectangle was open with a nest of rocks and brush overlooking the whole yard and offering excellent firing positions for anyone defending the area, but an equally good if not better position for anyone wanting to fire upon the ranch buildings.
Into this space Hopalong Cassidy was expected to ride, as he had ridden before, only this time the instant he passed into the rectangle of buildings, even from the brush and trees as he had come before, he would be under the muzzles of a circle of rifles in the hands of men sworn to kill him.
The thought of turning back did not occur to him.
Notori- 228 ously stubborn, he refused to admit that he could not do what he started out to do, and now his mind was seeking out a way. "You better high-tail it, Billy,"
Hopalong suggested. "No use lettin' them see you with us. From now on it's our problem."
When the boy was gone, Hopalong said nothing for a few minutes, and then he commented, "Looks like a good chance to round up the whole outfit." "What I was figgerin'," Mesquite replied. "An' havin'
"em scattered out thataway may be just the best thing ever."
"How d'you figger that?" Johnny demanded. "We can't fire in every direction, can we?"
"Why should we?" Hopalong said. "So far as we know, he doesn't know the two of you are along, so you are to be my aces in the hole. Whatever is done, I've got to ride out into that plaza between the bu
ildin's an" let "em all see me, but it is the two of you that have the big job to do. You got to get rid of that bunch in those buildin's, or some o" them." "That hombre in the rocks,"
Mesquite said, "should be easy for Johnny."
"Why me?" Johnny demanded fiercely. "Why me? Why should I be stuck up there away from the scrap?"
"You are the best rifle shot," Mesquite replied innocently. "Take out that feller-then you can open fire on the windows they'd shoot from." "What about you?" Nelson demanded suspiciously.
"Where will you be?" "Why, I'll take the house first! You can open up on those houses across from me."
"All right, Mesquite," Hopalong agreed.
"I'll take Sparr an' then the storeroom.
Mesquite, if you finish in the house, go for Framson in the corral."
They rode more swiftly now, and at Hopalong's word they split. Hopalong could see that the herd Sparr's men had gathered had reached several hundred head, and it had been driven to the eastern end of the ranch.
Evidently they planned on striking east and then south along the North Star road and heading south for Mexico.
The sun was high and the morning ended when Hopalong sighted the house through the trees and slowed down. His mouth felt dry inside and his stomach was hollow, for he knew that when he rode into the rectangle of buildings, he would be encircled by death.
Suppose Johnny failed? Or Mesquite?
Suppose something went wrong? There would be nothing for him to do then but to fight his way out of the circle. Any way he looked at it, he was facing the biggest gamble of his life, but he knew he wanted Sparr, and wanted him the worst way. He let the sorrel go forward at a walk, and then lifted his voice in song. That was to be the signal for Johnny to move in on the Gleason who held the rocks.
On the spur of the moment he changed his plans. It was the horse that caused it, for he disliked to think of a fine horse taking a chance on being killed by flying lead. He dismounted alongside the house and then stepped to the corner.
the Rustlers Of West Fork (1951) Page 18