Sudden: The Range Robbers
Page 28
Chapter XXII
EARLY the following morning, Stiffy, returning from Hatchett’s, heard a drumming of hoofs behind him and being of a suspicious nature, forced his mount into the brush at the side of the trail and waited. The drumming grew louder and then a band of riders galloped past. In the half-light he recognised several of them. He saw too that the horses had been hard-ridden, and that the faces of the riders were set and determined.
“Looks like the Frying Pan outfit, fifteen of ‘em, an’ they ain’t on no joy-ride neither,’ he muttered. “Headed for the Crossed Dumb-bell shore enough. I gotta take the short trail an’ warn Jeffs.’
Mounting again he rode for about half a mile and then turned off to the left at a point where there was a faint, narrow trail, little more than a run-way for wild creatures. A glance showed him that the horsemen ahead had kept straight on, and with a sigh of relief he plunged into the narrow pathway, stooping to avoid the branches which threatened to sweep him from the saddle.
The next half hour proved cruel work, and but for the fad that both knew their business, either man or beast must have come to grief. Through thickets and gullies, over rock-rimmed ridges, along a trail which wound like a ribbon amidst seemingly impassable undergrowth, slipping, staggering, the nimble little pony keeping its feet by a miracle of agility, they pressed on until at length they emerged on an open stretch and with a last burst of speed, reached their objective. All was quiet, but the man knew he could not be far ahead of the visitors and wasted no time. Limping, for the wild ride had tried his wounded leg severely, he ran to the door and hammered on it with his quirt. It was Jeffs who opened it.
“Lo, Stiffy, what’s eatin’ yu?’ he asked. “Thirsty?’
“The Frying Pan outfit’s on its way here an’ liable to arrive any minit,’ panted the other. “I come the short trail but—well, yu know what that is. There’s fifteen of ‘em, an’ I reckon they’re painted for war.’
“Hell,’ cried the foreman, the grin fading from his face instantly. “Come an’ tell the Spider.’
They went into the big room where Tarman, Pete, and most of the others were getting breakfast. The leader took the news calmly, and was clever enough to let it appear that he welcomed the change in his plans.
“Fine,’ he said. “We clean up now instead o’ later on, an’ if they come askin’ for it, we can’t be blamed. Fifteen of ‘em, eh? Well, there’s twenty of us an’ we’re under cover. Rustle in plenty grub, water, an’ cartridges—we’ll hold this place. The Frying Pan outfit, boys, is the last ditch we gotta straddle; after that, it’s easy goin’ for all of us.’
Laughing and joking, the men set about the task of putting the ranch-house in a state of defence. Built of stout logs which would resist any bullet, it was admirable for the purpose. The vulnerable spots were the doors and windows, the latter, however, being protected by heavy shutters loop-holed to enable the attacked to retaliate. On all sides the ground had been cleared so as to render the storming of the building a perilous undertaking. So the garrison might well await the issue with confidence. But Tarman, though he showed a bold front to his men, was perplexed. That the ranch he was purposing to raid should suddenly turn the tables was something he could not understand. Poker Pete too was ill at ease.
“Beats me how Leeming got wise to this place,’ he said.
“I figure Green warn’t alone last night,’ Tarman replied. “He musta left the other feller waitin’ in the brush with orders to ride for help if he didn’t come back with the girl in a certain time. We oughtta thought o’ that. We gotna wipe ‘em out, Pete, every damn one of ‘em.’
The gambler nodded gloomily, not that the prospect of slaying a dozen or so of his fellow-creatures disturbed him, but because he realised that the task was not going to be an easy one. A hail from outside interrupted the conversation, and peering through the loop-hole, they saw a solitary horseman sitting easily in the open, his rifle across his knees. It was the Frying Pan owner himself. At a word from Tarman, the foreman flung open the front door and leaning carelessly against the jamb, asked: “An’ what might yu be wantin’?’
“First off, none o’ yore damn lip,’ retorted the irascible rancher. “I’m tellin’ yu we got the place surrounded, an’ I’m givin’ yu one chance; hand over the girl an’ Green unharmed an’ we’ll go away—this time.’
“Yu can go plumb to hell, an’ if yo’re in sight in five seconds yu’ll git a free pass there,’ snapped Jeffs jerking up his rifle as he spoke.
The envoy whirled his mount and disappeared in the chaparral, while the foreman slammed and bolted the door; negotiations were at an end.
The attacking party, having placed their mounts in safety, had split up into couples and selected points which commanded every side of the building. The four Y Z boys had worked round to the back, from whence they could keep an eye on the corral. As Larry put it, “Some o’ these birds may be wantin’ no fly the coop, an’ it’s shore up to us to provide the wings.’
Ginger, with whom he had paired, grunted as he settled himself at full length in a slight hollow, well screened by the intervening foliage.
“Don’t yu gamble too high on this brush bein’ bullet-proof,’ he warned. “Cuss it, they got all the best of it. Don’t see how we’re goin’ to get ‘em ‘less we starve ‘em out, an’ they’re better fixed for grub than we are, I betcha.’
“We’ll get ‘em all right,’ responded Larry cheerfully. “Old Impatience’ll find a way—can’t see him a-settin’ down to wait. Bet that’s him, opening the ball.’
A shot rang out and they heard the thud of the striking bullet. Three of the defenders promptly replied, one of them firing from a loop-hole in the back door which immediately became a target for four of the attackers.
“Reckon we’ve sorter discouraged that jasper some,’ remarked Ginger, the hail of bullets having evoked no response. “Wonder if he’s cashed or shifted?’
He raised himself slightly to get a better view and instantly his hat was snatched from his head, and a second bullet screamed through the twigs past his cheek, both coming from the loop-hole of a window near the door. Larry sent two rapid shots at the unseen marksman and promptly rolled sideways to a position several yards away.
“Yu darn fool,’ he said. “Why don’t yu stand up an’ tell him where we are?’
Ginger did not reply, but having found a ridge of ground which afforded a little protection, he began methodically to hurl lead in a way which aroused the curiosity of his chum.
“What yu firin’ at?’ Larry inquired.
“The sky, yu blamed jackass,’ came the polite retort, and then, “I’m cuttin’ them hinges; take the left-hand one if yu think yu can hit it.’
Larry peeped out and saw that the shutter to the window was held in place by two rawhide hinges fixed at the top, and that the one on the right already bore testimony to the accuracy of Ginger’s marksmanship. With a whoop of delight Larry got to work on the other, and had already cut it through when a voice behind said :
“How yu boys makin’ it?’
It was Snap Lunt, sent oy Leeming on a tour of inspection to see how his men were faring.
“Lo, Snap; yu fellers got any of ‘em?’
“Dunn; that blamed house is a nut that wants crackin’. What yu shootin’ at?’
In a few words Larry explained the idea and the little gunman was filled with admiration.
“She’s a great scheme,’ he said. “Yu hit on that all oy yoreself, Larry?’
“Nope, got Ginger to help me think of it,’ replied Larry, modestly.
Snap laughed. “I’m agoin’ to pass the word all around,’ he promised. “That shack won’t be safe for a flea if we put them shutters out of action. Got any baccy?’
“Yeah, an’ papers, an’ matches, an’ a lip to hang the pill on; want ‘em all?’ asked Larry sarcastically.
“All ‘cept the lip,’ returned Snap, helping himself generously from the bag the other threw to him.
“Where’d he get yu?’ queried Barton.
“Right through the brain, yu chump,’ came the petulant reply. “Come an’ tie this blasted arm up; I’m bleedin’ like a stuck hog.’
“An’ squealin’ like one too,’ retorted Larry. “Brain, huh? Why, they couldn’t hit your’n with the gun close to yore head.’
He wormed his way over to where Ginger was lying and bound the ripped forearm. The firing was now increasing in intensity and there was a regularity about it which pointed at a definite plan.
“Snap’s passed on our idea, shore enough,’ Larry said, complacently.
“Our idea,’ cried Ginger. “Well, yu shore wasn’t out o’ sight when the gall was distributed; yu’ll be claimin’ it was yores soon. I—’
“Aw right, I ain’t deaf,’ Larry said. “Trouble with yu is yu talk too much. That blamed shutter’s nearly cashed. I’ll finish her off an’ yu be ready to shoot when she drops.’
Two accurately placed shots severed the right hinge and thesagging shutter, tearing away the other support, fell to the ground. Ginger fired instantly and they saw a man lurch forward and subside. Larry’s shot followed and another indistinct form seemed to fade away. No return shot came from the window.
“Pears like we got ‘em both,’ remarked Ginger, and then, “There’s another shutter goin’—see—the other side o’ the door. That’ll be Simple an’ Dirty. Reckon we got these coyotes where the hair’s short now.’
The whine of a bullet which missed him by an inch cut out his jubilation and sent him burrowing, while Larry plugged a couple of shots into the window. A reply came instantly and it was Larry’s turn to curse, for the lead ploughed through his hair.
“Sufferin’ snakes!’ he ejaculated. “I feel like I’ve been scalped.’ Ginger crawfished over and examined the wound. “On’y a graze,’ he said. “If I had yore luck I wouldn’t work for a livin’.’
“Yu don’t anyways,’ snorted the injured one.
The discovery of the weak spot in the defence, while it proved an expensive surprise for the rustlers, by no means justified Ginger’s optimistic views. The exposed windows were quickly barricaded with mattresses, planks, and other articles calculated to impede the progress of a bullet, and the fight went on as fiercely as ever. That the defenders had suffered was evident since fewer shots came from the building, but they were still strong enough to make a rush across the open too costly. So that Dirk, on his way to the horses for a further supply of cartridges, was not unduly hopeful.
“They’ve got two of us, an’ some others is more or less chipped,’ he said, in reply to Ginger’s query. “I reckon we’ve wiped out a few o’ them too but ‘less we get the house afore dark they’ll have a chance. Yu boys all right?’
“I’m scratched an’ Larry’s got a permanent part in his hair, but he-won’t look any uglier,’ replied the redhead. “We’re claimin’ to have downed a couple, anyways.’
“Good for yu,’ said the foreman, and went on his way.
The situation inside the ranch-house was more critical than the attackers suspected, for the unmasking of the windows had cost seven of the rustlers their lives, and several others were wounded. Nevertheless, like cornered rats, they were prepared to fight to the bitter end—all save one, for Tarman, conscious that the game was now going against him, was already framing a scheme by which he might save his neck. This plan he proceded to put into operation with a callous disregard for the fate of the men who were fighting for him. Stealing away unnoticed by those to whom a second’s inattention to the work in hand might mean death, he went up to the room where Noreen, bound and gagged, was lying on the floor.
Carrying her downstairs he placed her near the back door of the house, which, owing to the assiduous efforts of Simple and Dirty had quickly become too dangerous a spot for defence. Then he opened the door a little and instantly two bullets crashed into it.
With one quick movement, Tarman slung the almost senseless girl across his shoulder and stepped out. A cry of astonishment and rage greeted his appearance, but as he had calculated, not a shot was fired, though half a dozen guns were aimed at his heart and as many fingers were itching to pull the trigger. For a moment he stood motionless, a grin of satanic triumph on his face, and then strode steadily towards the corral.
“Any attempt to interfere with me an’ the girl dies,’ he called out, and they now saw that in addition to the rifle in his left hand, his right held a revolver.
Dastardly as the threat was not one of the onlookers doubted but that it would be carried out, and the Recording Angel must have a busy time during the next few minutes. Larry, who had sprung up in readiness to intercept the ruffian before he reached the corral, subsided with a curse when Ginger growled: “Don’t be a damn idjut; can’t yu see the hound has got us throwed an’ tied? P’raps he’ll leave her an’ make his getaway.’ But they soon saw that such was not the rustler’s intention; he was taking no chances of being shot down.
Reaching the corral, he did not relinquish his helpless burden, managing to rope and saddle a horse without doing so. Secure in his immunity, he went about the difficult job quite leisurely and the limp form draped over his shoulder seemed to hamper him scarcely at all. To the impotent watching men the operation was a maddening one but they dared make no move. At length he was ready, and mounting, he swung the horse round.
“My promise still holds good; follow me and she dies, pronto,’ he shouted, and with a sneering “Adios’ he plunged into the chaparral.
The rustlers defending the front of the house were not aware at first of their leader’s defection, and those at the back did not realise his intention until it was too late to interfere. Green, from the slit which did duty as a window to the room in which he was confined, saw the whole proceeding and wrenched at his bonds in savage desperation. Suddenly the door opened and West came in.
“Couldn’t make it afore—Durran had the key,’ he said. “Hold out yore paws.’
“Where’s Durran now?’ asked the prisoner, as the Californian cut away the lashings on wrists and ankles.
“Dead, an ‘a good few with him, an’ that dirty houn’ Tarman has left us holdin’ the bag,’ replied the other, with an oath ofdisgust. “Here’s yore belt an’ guns; the next room to this has a window yu can drop out of. Run that skunk down—I’d ‘a’ beefed him myself if it hadn’t been for the girl.’
“This puts me in yore debt deeper than ever, an’ I’ll not forget it,’ Green said, as he buckled the welcome belt round his hips. “Nothin’ to that,’ said West. “I gotta get back or I’ll be missed. Good luck.’
The moment he had gone the prisoner followed. As West had said, the adjoining room, which he recognised as the one Noreen had been locked in, contained a fair-sized window. He was about to open it when a stealthy footstep sounded outside, and he shrank back so that the newcomer must enter the room in order to see the occupant. He could hear the approaching man’s muttered words: “Where in ‘ell is he? Durran said the small room. Must be in here with the gal. Why ain’t the door locked? Damn fools—’ The door was pushed back and Poker Pete entered.
“Drop that knife,’ came the curt command.
For an instant the would-be assassin hesitated, gazing spellbound at the man he had expected to find bound and at his mercy, and then, comprehending that he had no chance against the levelled gun, with the implacable eyes behind it, he opened his hand; the murderous weapon clattered and gleamed as it rolled on the floor.
“Who turned yu loose
an’ where’s the gal?’ gasped the gambler, who had been too busy at the front of the house to notice his chief’s exit. He too knew that the game was up and had determined to secure his revenge on Green, whatever happened.
“Tarman used her to save his own dirty hide,’ Green replied. “As for yu, this is yore last hand.’ He sheathed his gun as he spoke. “I’m givin’ yu an opportunity to play it like a man. Pull yore gun.’
“Fine chance I’d have again yu, wouldn’t I?’ said the ruffian, playing for time while his cunning brain sought a way out.
“A better one than I’d have had, tied, against yore knife,’ came the stern retort. “Pull, damn yu! I’ve got no time to waste.’
“I ain’t invitin’ myself to my own funeral,’ said the gambler, and coolly elevated his hands above his head. “Shoot away, an’ be damned to yu.’
The cowpuncher looked at him in disgust. At the same instant Pete’s right hand dropped to his neck, rose again and flashed downwards, the blade of the second knife glinting as he struck. To one unacquainted with the gambler’s habits, the ruse would have been fatal, but Green had seen the trick before and was, moreover, expecting something of the kind. Quick as light, he sprang in, gripped the descending right wrist in his left hand and pulled the man towards him, at the same time driving his own right fist into the savage face. The impact, with all the impetus of his spring behind it, was terrific. The assassin, hurled back as though by a mighty mind, staggered and dropped in a huddled heap; a foot twitched and that was all. For a moment the cowboy stood, panting, waiting for the next move. Then, gun in hand, he stepped forward, but a glance told him the man was dead; evidently, in falling, his arm had twisted under him, and he had impaled himself upon his own knife.
The cowpuncher wasted no more time. Taking off his handkerchief he waved it out of the window, and when no shots came, coolly climbed out and dropped to the ground. Then, at full speed, he ran for the corral. Larry’s warning shout saved him from the fire of the attackers, but those in the house did their best to bring him down. But a running man who knows the tricks of unexpected swerves is a difficult mark, and Green dived into the sheltering brush unhurt, to find Larry awaiting him with a rope, saddle, and rifle.