The Lone Ranger Rides

by Fran Striker

  Chapter XII

  A LEGAL PAPER

  In the clear air one could see for miles from the top of ThunderMountain. The Basin, most of it at least, was hidden by the foliage, butthe view in the opposite direction encompassed endless plains that ledto ranches beyond the horizon. The masked man wondered how many of thoseranches had contributed to the crisscrossing of cattle tracks on thebald dome where he stood.

  Tonto pointed out the things that he'd observed on previous visits andindicated where a trail had been cut to make a descent straight into theBasin.

  Meanwhile, most of the people in the Basin went to Becky's funeral. Itwas a simple ceremony without tears, conducted by Jeb Cavendish. No onewho had known Rebecca's life could feel sorry for her for having beenreleased. Penny held the hands of the oldest children during the burial.She frequently felt the eyes of Yuma, standing unhatted with a number ofother men, upon her, but each time she looked at the blond cowboy he wasstaring at the ground. Vince was there, and so were most of thecowhands. Wallie was somewhere away from the Basin. Bryant had a distantview from his seat on the porch of the house. Mort was still in bed witha bandage around his neck.

  Jeb seemed to enjoy his brief period as the center of attraction andpostponed conclusion of the services as long as possible. When heultimately pronounced a benediction, Yuma hurried away as if onimportant business. Penny led the dry-eyed youngsters toward the house.Gimlet, the cook, advanced to meet her.

  "Lemme take care o' the young 'uns, Miss Penny," the old man said."Keeee-ripes, I ain't had the chance tuh tell a pack of lies tuh kidssince you growed up."

  Penny was grateful. The children had been her responsibility sinceRebecca's death, and she welcomed the chance to get away and think for alittle while. "I'll be around," she said, "when you have to startsupper."

  "Don't yuh do it now, Miss Penny, don't you do nothin' o' the sort. Youleave the kids with me an' let 'em stick by me. It'll do 'em good tuhtalk tuh someone 'sides them glum-actin' cousins of yores with theirsouls full o' vinegar till it shows in their faces."

  Penny smiled, "It's a deal, Gimlet. They're your responsibility tillbedtime."

  The children, heretofore ignored, were wide-eyed at the thought thatanyone could actually want their company.

  Gimlet's manner seemed forced. Penny fancied her old friend had worriesabout which he said nothing.

  "Yew git," he said, spanking the oldest boy playfully. "I'll be rightalong an' meet yuh by the kitchen door."

  When the children had gone, the old man with one eye turned to Penelope.

  "I got somethin'," he said, "tuh tell you."

  "Yes, Gimlet?"

  "I on'y got one eye, but my ears is first-rate. Mebbe I orter keep mybig mouth shut, but I figger yuh orter know that yer Uncle Bryant is uptuh somethin'."

  "Uncle Bryant?" Penny's tone showed her surprise. She knew that Gimletwas one friend upon whom she could count. The old cook had dandled heron his knee when as a child she had come to live in the Basin. Shelistened eagerly.

  "Heard him talkin' tuh that no-good, gambling smooth-talkin' _hombre_named Lonergan," said Gimlet.

  Penny remembered that Lonergan had called the night before. Bryant hadtaken him upstairs, behind closed doors.

  "Curiosity has allus been my trouble, an' when I heard talkin' betweenthem two, I didn't shut my ears none. Couldn't git much o' what uz said,but the two of 'em was workin' over some sort o' legal paper."

  "What about it?" asked Penny. "Uncle Bryant has a right to make acontract or agreement with someone."

  "Wal, all's I know is that I heard Bryant ask Lonergan if he was deadsure the paper'd stand in court after he was dead and gone."

  Penny wanted to laugh at Gimlet's obvious concern over what was probablya will. His seriousness, however, impressed her.

  "That ain't all," said the old man. "I heard more. I heard Bryant sayin'he wanted tuh leave what he owned tuh them that deserved it, an' hedidn't want none of his damned relatives contestin' the will in court o'law."

  "But after all, Gimlet, it's Uncle Bryant's ranch and he can do what hewants with it."

  "Nuther thing," growled Gimlet, "they's a puncher here, callin' hisself,'Yuma.'"

  "What about him?"

  "Yuh c'n trust that big maverick, Miss Penny. He thinks a heap aboutyou."

  Penny said nothing.

  Gimlet went on with a lengthy discourse about the fine qualities ofYuma. He and Yuma had spent hours in close confab in the kitchen, andYuma had expressed his feelings, confidentially, to Gimlet.

  Penny's face grew red as the frank old man continued. Finally she cuthim off. "Those children are waiting for you, Gimlet."

  "All right, I'm a-goin' tuh 'em. But you jest remember that Yuma isace-high with me an' yore ace-high with _him_." Gimlet shuffled towardthe kitchen door.

  Penny wanted to get away from the surroundings and be alone with herthoughts. She had at least two hours before her uncle would be expectingher for the evening meal. Hurriedly she changed to riding clothes andleft the vicinity on Las Vegas.

  She discounted the seriousness of all that Gimlet had said about heruncle's "legal paper." Obviously just a will. The thing that concernedher most was the truth about Bryant's eyes. During the day she had triedto observe him carefully. There were times when she was sure he hadtrouble seeing things. Then she thought he had truly fired at Mort, butfailing eyes had made his shot go wild and coincidence had made it drillYuma's hat.

  There were other times when Bryant seemed to reach directly, without atrace of groping, for whatever he desired, and then she wondered. Therewas no doubt in her mind that Vince and Mort were involved in somethingor other that they didn't want too generally known.

  What of the men, the Texas Rangers, who Becky had said came toinvestigate and died for it?

  Lost in her thoughts, the girl rode on without thought or direction. Shelet the reins hang slack and paid no attention to the tangle of growingthings that brushed past her. She was surprised, when she came back toreality, to find that Las Vegas had carried her up Thunder Mountain. Shewas well beyond the lower part of the path where it was rough.

  "Might as well keep going now," she said.

  There was sugar in her pocket, put there for Las Vegas. Well, this timethe mustang could do without his customary sweet. She'd save it till shereached the clearing, and see if she could bribe attention from thesilver stallion.

  The Indian-what did he call himself? Tonto--that was it. Tonto had saidthat a friend was wounded. She wondered if by any chance this friendcould be one of the Texas Rangers. She thought it quite unlikely, inview of the fact that all of them were said to have been killed. Well,she'd ask Tonto anyway.

  The clearing was just ahead. She saw the form of a horse through thetrees, and then a man. His back was toward her. She saw him turning ashe heard the hoofs approaching. The man was not her Indianfriend--neither was he a stranger to the girl. He was one of the lastpeople in the world she cared to meet in such a place--the killer whocalled himself Rangoon.