Three Trails to Triangle

by Robert J. Horton

  “Well, what of it?” Buck demanded. “Is that any reason why you should chase around with a gun in your hand?”

  “Robbery, you fool!” Wessel blurted. “I thought I caught sight of another man up there … a shorter, slight man. It might even be the Crow.” The youth pinched Buck’s arm as if to convince him. He had taken the accidental meeting with Buck as a matter of course, which was not strange since he had known him for years and could not be expected to be suspicious.

  Buck was startled. A light dawned upon him. The two men who had ridden into town were the Crow’s look-outs and the outlaw had been in town all the time!

  “Come on,” urged Wessel, pulling at his arm.

  Buck yanked him back. “Calm down a little till your brains cool off,” he said. “You’re flying off at the handle and dreaming things at the same time. What’re you talking about robbery and what do you figure on doing?” It was dangerous to have Wessel butting in in this way and Buck realized he would have to restrain him and look after his own affairs, and Davitt’s, at the same time.

  “He’s taking Graham to the bank, I tell you!” cried Wessel in great excitement. “It’s attempted robbery and I’m going to give it to him on sight.”

  Buck caught the youth as he was lunging to break away. He threw his left arm about Wessel’s neck and shut off his speech with his left hand pressed tightly over his mouth. Then, with his right hand, he jerked the gun from Wessel’s grasp. But Wessel swung his left enough to knock the weapon from Buck’s grasp.

  This was not time for parley. Buck threw Wessel from him and drove his right to the jaw, knocking him on the grass. As he bent to pick up the gun, Buck glimpsed two shadowy figures run across the street at the intersection. The Crow’s two companions. They disappeared at once in the darkness under the trees.

  Davitt’s warning to watch the bank seemed to roar in Buck’s ears. He started to run to the corner, and then, remembering Wessel, he turned back, but the short interval of precious time had enabled Wessel to recover his faculties and he leaped for his gun, grabbed it, and dashed through the trees before Buck could reach him.

  Buck swore and started on a dead run for the bank.

  * * * * *

  Mel Davitt stood in the narrow, dim corridor in the rear of the bank, gun in hand, his lips pressed tightly, and listened to the Crow.

  “You ain’t got so much to say this time, eh, Graham?” sneered the outlaw. “They call me the Crow and I call you the Toad. Do you know why? Because a crow is smarter than a toad. It ain’t smart to call names, Toad. I could call you a fool, but I don’t have to because you know you’re a fool already. You were a fool to talk mean to me. You’re fool enough this minute to be thinkin’ you’d like to take a chance with me and yell or something. Go open the vault, Toad, and we’ll carry the plunder out in your own sacks. Listen!”

  A tapping on the front window was plainly heard.

  “My men!” cried the bandit in triumph. “On time to the second and the coast is clear. I’d already caught the signal when you pricked your ears at the mockingbird’s warble. Crows and mockingbirds and toads. Step out and open that vault, Graham, or I’ll drill you where you stand.”

  Davitt tensed for his spring into the room as he heard Graham walk to the vault. Hidden batteries responded the next instant and from the front of the bank on the street came the harsh, resonant, clanging of a gong, shattering the stillness of the night into ringing atoms of sound that awoke the town.

  Davitt literally hurled himself through the open doorway into the office as a shot rang out. A gun blazed in his face and he crashed into the huge desk and sprawled over it, knocking the lamp to the floor. In a moment he dropped to the side of the desk, firing over it. Shots rang out behind the bank and Davitt threw himself out into the corridor in time to see the slight form of the outlaw spring from the open door.

  In that fleeting moment Davitt saw two faces, ghostlike in the dim light of the stars. Chet Wessel and Buck were there! A snaky tongue of fire licked at the blackness under the trees and Buck whirled, his gun flaming in the direction from which the shot had come. There were no more fiery tongues from that quarter.

  But Wessel seemed in the Crow’s path as the outlaw darted for the side street. Davitt sent a futile bullet toward the twisting, leaping form, and bounded in pursuit. Buck was firing again—past Davitt. Then Wessel went to the ground, his gun blazing as he cried out from the bullet to his leg.

  A vision of white, wraith-like, seemed to drift across before Davitt’s eyes and a little choking cry came from the rear of the bank.

  Then Davitt’s voice rang clear above the clamor of the gong, the shouts of aroused citizens, the distant pound of flying hoofs:

  “Stop, Renwick! Take it coming like a man, and not going like a crow!”

  The outlaw spun about in the middle of the street. His figure looked grotesque and misshapen, but the darting fire in his eyes was the venom of rage and hatred, contempt for law or life—the defiance of the killer!

  “A toad and now a rat!” he shrilled between his teeth. “Here’s your ticket, Davitt.”

  The voice seemed still on the air when the guns roared their message to the breathless throng. Renwick, the Crow, went to his knees, raised his gun again and dropped it as Davitt walked slowly toward him. Then he swayed and fell in the dust as the crowd broke to make way for the sheriff who came riding in with a dozen men behind him.

  Davitt burst into Graham’s office in the bank a minute later. Another lamp had been lighted, and Graham was sitting in his chair. Virginia was there, holding a handkerchief against her father’s left side, an arm about his neck. Graham was coatless, his shirt was open, he was holding something tight in his right hand.

  “Are you hit … hard?” asked Davitt, meeting the banker’s cold gaze.

  “It glanced off into the fleshy part of his side.” It was Virginia who answered.

  Graham held his right hand over the desk, opened it, and a metal spectacle case fell against the polished surface. “He made the mistake of giving me time to put up my glasses,” he said calmly. “The case deflected the bullet. I suppose you …” His eyes put the question.

  “Yes, I got him,” Davitt said in a tone of relief. He pointed to the dented case. “I’d heard of such things, but never believed it could happen. I’ll give you credit for the nerve to set off that alarm.”

  * * * * *

  Although it was two in the morning, the lights still burned in Sylvester Graham’s living room. The banker was lying comfortably on the couch with Virginia sitting beside him in a chair. The doctor had left just before the arrival of Sheriff Drew, Frank Payne, who had stayed over in town, Davitt, and Buck.

  “I had it figured out the same way, almost,” the sheriff was saying, frowning slightly at Davitt, who had been explaining his procedure in bringing about the end of Renwick, the outlaw known as the Crow. “I spotted that man in the hills and I started for town when I got word from a lookout north of where he came out of the hills. Meanwhile, you had got started.”

  “There wasn’t any time to lose,” said Davitt dryly.

  “He fooled me by getting back into town so soon,” the sheriff growled. “I reckon I figured a night too late, or ahead of time.”

  “He fooled me, too,” Davitt said with a faint smile. “And, thanks to our banker friend here, I made what might have turned out to be the worst mistake of my career.”

  The others looked at him with new interest. Davitt nodded to the banker. “You made me mad, same as you angered Renwick. I expect it made him maddest, though, when I called him by his right name. I don’t believe he knew I was on his trail for sure till that moment. But you said you didn’t believe I was capable and that I was trying to make you for a thousand or bleed you for expenses. I decided I’d take the Crow with you looking on. He was the wink of an eye too fast for me. I’d like to have that spectacle case
for a souvenir.”

  “Never mind what I said … just forget it,” said Graham with a gesture as if to dismiss the matter. “It wasn’t just luck that I didn’t get hit below the case in the right spot. I heard you bust into the room and so did he … it caused him to shoot a bit wild.”

  “I’m not taking too much credit,” said Davitt. “But I’ll accept the bank’s five-thousand-dollar reward you said there were no strings attached to. After all, this is a sort of business with me.”

  “And I’ll turn over the county’s reward,” said the sheriff. “You’ve earned it and it’s worth the money.”

  “I reckon that’s coming to Buck, here,” said Davitt. “He put Renwick’s pals out of business and probably saved young Wessel’s life by plugging him in the leg, so he’d fall before the Crow could bore him. Buck’s a partner in this business, you see.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Frank Payne asked Buck, scowling.

  “Well, we agents don’t usually tell what we know in advance,” drawled Buck, winking at Davitt, who was smiling broadly. “You see after you fired me …”

  “Oh, your job’s waiting for you,” Payne broke in. “You’d have got it back, anyway, and you know it.”

  “Yes, but I’d have had to work a long, long time at it to get five thousand iron men,” Buck pointed out slyly. “Now I don’t see how I can afford to take it back. As soon as I can finish readin’ The Rise and Fall of the Roman Empire, I’m going into this business regular.”

  He nodded as Payne and the sheriff looked puzzled, and Davitt laughed outright. “I’m making Buck a proposition,” Davitt explained, sobering. He saw Buck’s eyes light up and nodded to him slightly.

  “Meanwhile,” Davitt continued, “I’ll have to thank Miss Virginia for her assistance.” He raised his brows at Sylvester Graham who was staring in astonishment. “It was your daughter, Mister Graham, who showed me the shortcut to the bank after I had watched you and the Crow go out of the room. I was watching through the window. I couldn’t find out which way you two had gone until Miss Virginia …”

  “Had to point out the shortcut or have her arm pinched in two,” the girl interrupted with a flush.

  “Well, we can thrash all these details out later,” said Buck in a cheerful voice. “I’m thinking you did Mel Davitt an injustice, Mister Graham. I’m only a cowpuncher, but I’m old enough to recognize a real man and a capable one when I run up against him as hard as I did Davitt. You ought to make good for what you said about him and for not trusting him.”

  “How much?” demanded Graham with a deep scowl.

  “Now there you go,” Buck complained. “Always reckoning in terms of bills or specie. You’d be doing the polite thing if you’d invite him to dinner, say. Something like that.” He beamed.

  Virginia Graham’s laugh rippled forth. “I’m inviting the two of you,” she said, giving Davitt a look that caused him to smile graciously at his new partner.

  “In which case, we accept,” sang Buck with a wink at Sylvester Graham.

  Chapter Ten

  “Doggone!” Buck exclaimed, looking up from a letter he held in his hand. “Who do you suppose this is from, Mel?” He stared across the small room of the hotel at Davitt who was lying on the bed.

  Davitt glanced from the book he was reading to Buck at the table by the window.

  “I should judge it was from someone connected with the State Bank of Milton,” he drawled, “having noted the name of that bank in the upper left-hand corner of the envelope.”

  “It’s from old Sylvester Graham himself!” Buck exploded. “He wants to see us at the bank at ten o’clock this bright summer morning, so he writes.” He continued to study the letter with a frown on his bronzed features.

  “Well, it’s a good thing we got up and had breakfast early,” Davitt said, and yawned. “We’re both customers of the bank … being depositors … and he’s president of that staunch institution, so …”

  “He knew how to run that bank before he ever saw either of us, so if you’re thinking he’s wanting our advice or your advice, rather, why …”

  “The letter was addressed to Davitt and Granger,” Davitt interrupted. “If it hadn’t been so addressed, I wouldn’t have given it to you to open. Maybe he wants us to close out our accounts.”

  “Not a chance,” said Buck scornfully. “Too much money, my friend. With me putting in the five thousand, and you the other five thousand in rewards we got for finishing the Crow’s outlaw career, and you adding another five thousand you were packing to your bit, and another five thousand from Denam … him turning down twenty thousand dollars in deposits that’ll give him more keys to mortgages? Not on your life! You don’t know Graham. Why, when we put that money in the bank he almost gave me a respectful look when he said I was lucky.” He puckered his brows in thought, then his face lightened. “I’ll bet he’s got a scheme to get us to invest that money in something he’s got to offer. Maybe he’s scared we’ll lose it gambling or something.”

  “We might at that,” Davitt said, crossing his feet, encased in polished riding boots, on the newspaper at the foot of the bed.

  “What I mean is, why should he write to us in the first place, and why should he be so particular about the exact time he wants to see us,” grumbled Buck. “This letter is the same as giving us our orders. I happen to know you won’t be high-toned by anybody, and as long as you’ve taken me in as a partner in this man-hunting business, I feel the same way. We’ve got to be careful of our reputation.”

  Mel Davitt chuckled. “That’s the idea, buckaroo, and don’t forget that I’m the head of this firm.” He laid his book aside. “A while back you said I talked too good to be a cowpuncher, and I told you I got my learning by reading books. If you’d spent more time in reading books, instead of chasing doggies with a hot branding iron that belonged to somebody else, you’d be able to fathom that letter at a glance. Every ranch I ever heard of had a Buck … but if you travel with me, it won’t be long before I’ll have ’em calling you by your first name … your real name, I mean.”

  “That’ll be a great help,” Buck said sarcastically. “Well, you ought to know about everything. You’re a year older than me, anyway. You must be all of twenty-six, and you must have put in full time during that extra year.”

  “There you go,” frowned Davitt. “The quickest and easiest way a man can make a fool of himself is to get mad. Too bad you never read Sherlock Holmes. That hombre thought and worked right along the same lines I do. I’ll give him credit. You remember how I outguessed that bank robber, the Crow?”

  “Sure,” replied Buck blandly. “You outguessed him fine, except he was already in town when we thought he was out on the prairie scratching his head trying to make up his mind whether to come in or not.”

  “That,” said Davitt airily, with a wave of his hand, “merely goes to show the contingencies with which we have to cope. Now, take that letter from Sylvester Graham, Esquire. He’s the president and guiding hand of the bank here in Milton which is known as one of the strongest stockmen’s banks on this north range. An inexperienced cowhand like yourself …”

  “I’m a top hand, mister,” Buck broke in indignantly.

  “With cows, yes.” Davitt nodded. “But at present we’re dealing with bankers. Graham is a big banker. I suppose you’d expect him to drop into the lobby downstairs and leave word with the clerk that he wanted to see us … or maybe come up to the room. Perhaps you’d expect him to look us up in some joint where we were playing cards. Humph! The man has a station in life to maintain. Besides, he’s a businessman. What does he do? Why, he writes a letter in his office and has the government of the United States deliver it to us. That’s one of the things the government is for, Buck.”

  “Isn’t it strange I never thought of that,” Buck said vaguely.

  “Not at all,” said Davitt with gusto. “You were not su
pposed to think of that. You’re not accustomed to getting letters in the first place. But let’s go further. He wrote the letter because he wants to see us, of course. If he just wanted to see us casual like, he’d have said for us just to drop in today or tomorrow. Pinch your brains. Instead of that, he writes that he definitely wants to see us today. Now I guess you understand.”

  “Perfectly,” said Buck dryly. “It’s as clear as I-declare that he wants to see us today. He said that right in this here letter.”

  “But that isn’t all,” Davitt admonished, holding up a finger. “He wants to see us at ten o’clock this morning. Why is that?”

  “Because he’s got to foreclose mortgages the rest of the day, and then go to Great Falls for the rest of the week to get his mustache trimmed down so he can say ‘no’ sharper,” replied Buck.

  “You may be able to spin a rope, Buck, but humor is too subtle a commodity for you to try to handle,” Davitt said severely. “Graham isn’t so busy that he has to make a definite appointment unless it is absolutely necessary. In fact, we could drop into the bank and see him most any time of day. In my opinion, he wants us there at a specific hour because somebody else is going to be there then and he aims to bring us together. It’s easy enough to say any old time to one man, or two, if they are together, but bringing two different parties together is another thing. Now you have it.”

  “Sounds sensible,” Buck conceded. “Who’s the other party?”

  “That’s what makes it interesting, and also makes it imperative that we be at the bank at ten o’clock,” Davitt said, getting up.