Prairie Flowers

by James B. Hendryx

  CHAPTER XX

  AT CINNABAR JOE'S

  Along toward the middle of the afternoon Cinnabar Joe laid down hishammer and smilingly accepted the sandwich his wife held out to him."You sure don't figure on starvin' me none, Jennie," he grinned as hebit generously into the thick morsel.

  "Ranchin's some different from bartendin'--an' you're workin' awfulhard, Joe." She surveyed the half-completed stable with critical eye:"Couple more weeks an' it'll be done!" she exclaimed in admiration, "Ididn't know you was so handy. Look over to the house."

  Cinnabar looked: "Gee! Curtains in the window! Looks like a regularoutfit, now."

  "Do you like 'em--honest? I didn't think you'd even notice they washung." With the pride of new proprietorship, her eyes travelled over thetiny log cabin, the horse corral with its new peeled posts, and thestable which still lacked the roof: "We ain't be'n here quite twomonths, an' the best part is, we done it all ourselves. Why, Joe, Ican't hardly believe we've really got an outfit of our own--with horsesan' two hundred an' fifty head of cattle! It don't seem real. Seemslike I'm bound to wake up an hear Hank roarin' to git up an' gitbreakfast. That's the way it ended so many times--my dream. I'm so sickof hotels I hope I'll never see another one all my life!"

  "You an' me both! It's the same with bartendin'. But you ain't a-goin'to wake up. This here's _real_!"

  "Oh, I hope we can make a go of it!" cried the girl, a momentary shadowupon her face, "I hope nothin' happens----"

  Her husband laid his hand affectionately upon her shoulder: "They ain'tnothin' goin' to happen," he reassured her, "we've got to make a go ofit! What with all both of us has be'n able to save, an' with the bankstakin' us fer agin as much--they ain't no two ways about it--we've gotto make good."

  "Who's that?" asked the girl, shading her eyes with her hand, andpeering toward the mouth of a coulee that gave into Red Sand Creek fromthe direction of the bad lands. Cinnabar followed her gaze and bothwatched a horseman who, from the shelter of a cutbank seemed to besubmitting the larger valley to a most careful scrutiny.

  "One of them horse-thieves, I guess," ventured, the girl, in a tone ofdisgust, "I wisht, Joe, you wouldn't have no truck with 'em."

  "I don't have no dealin's with 'em, except to keep my mouth shut an'haul their stuff out from town--same as all the other ranchers down inhere does. A man wouldn't last long down here that didn't--they'd puthim out of business. You don't need to fear I'll throw in with 'em. Iguess if a man can tend bar for six years an' stay straight--straightenough so the bank ain't afraid to match his pile an' shove the moneyout through the window to him--there ain't much chance he won't staystraight ranchin'."

  "It ain't that, Joe!" the girl hastened to assure him, "I never wouldmarried you if I hadn't know'd you was square. I don't want nothin' todo with them crooks--I've got a feelin' that, somehow, they'll throw itinto you."

  "About the only ones there is around here is Cass Grimshaw's gang an'outside of runnin' off horses, Cass Grimshaw's on the level--everyoneknows that."

  "Well," replied the girl, doubtfully, "maybe they might be onehorse-thief like that--but a whole gang--if they was that square theywouldn't be horse-thieves."

  "What Cass says goes----"

  "Look at comin', yonder!" interrupted Jennie, pointing to the lonerider, "if it ain't that low-down Jack Purdy, I'll jump in the crick!"At the mention of the name of Purdy, Cinnabar Joe started perceptibly.His wife noticed the movement, slight as it was--noted also, in oneswift sidewise glance, that his face paled slightly under its new-foundtan, and that a furtive--almost a hunted look had crept into his eyes.Did her husband fear this man, and if so--why? A sudden nameless feargripped her heart. She stepped close to Cinnabar Joe's side as though insome unaccountable way he needed her protection, and together theywaited for the approaching rider. The man's horse splashed noisily intothe creek, lowered his head to drink, but the rider jerked viciously onthe reins so that the cruel spade bit pinked the foam at the animal'slips. Spurring the horse up the bank, he stopped before them, grinning."'Lo Cinnabar! 'Lo, Jennie! Heard you'd located on Red Sand, an' thoughtI'd run over an' look you up--bein' as we're neighbours."

  "Neighbours!" cried the girl, in undisguised disgust, "Lord! I know'dthe bad lands was bad enough--but I didn't think they was that bad. Ithought you was plumb out of the country or dead, long before this!"

  The man leered insolently: "Oh, you did, eh? Well, I ain't out of thecountry--an' I ain't dead--by a hell of a ways! I guess Cinnabarwouldn't sob none if I was dead. You don't seem tickled to death to seean' old pal."

  "Sure, you're welcome here, Jack. Anyone is. Anything I can do for you?"

  The man seemed to pay no attention to the words, and swinging from thesaddle, threw an arm over the horn, and surveyed the outfit with asneering grin: "Saved up enough to start you an outfit of yer own, eh?You ought to done pretty good tendin' bar for six years, with what yougot paid, an' what you could knock down. Go to it! I'm for you. Thebetter you do, the better I'll like it."

  "What I've saved, I've earnt," replied Cinnabar evenly.

  "Oh, sure--a man earns all he gits--no matter how he gits it. Even ifit's shootin' up his old pals an' grabbin' off the reward."

  Cinnabar's face went a shade paler, but he made no reply and the otherturned to Jennie. "You go to the house--me an' Cinnabar wants to makemedicine."

  "You go to the devil!" flashed the girl. "Who do you think you areanyhow? Tryin' to order me around on my own ranch! If you've gotanything to say, just you go ahead an' spit it out--don't mind me."

  "Kind of sassy, ain't you? If you was mine, I'd of took that out of youbefore this--or I'd of broke you in two."

  "If I was yourn!" cried the girl contemptuously, "if you was the lastman in the world, I'd of et wolf poison before I'd be'n seen on thestreet with you. I've got your number. I didn't work in the hotel atWolf River as long as I did, not to be onto your curves. You're a nastydirty low-down skunk--an' that's the best can be said about you! Now, Iguess you know how you stand around here. Shoot off what you got to say,an' then take your dirty hide off this ranch an' don't come back!"

  "I guess Cinnabar won't say that," sneered the man, white with rage,"you don't hear him orderin' me off the place, do you--an' you won'tneither. What I've got on him'll hold you for a while. You're holdin'yer nose high--now. But, you wait--you'll pay fer them words you saidwhen the time comes--_an' you'll pay my way!_"

  Jennie's face went suddenly white and Cinnabar Joe stepped forward, hiseyes narrowed to slits: "Shut up!" he said, evenly, "or I'll kill you."

  Purdy glanced into the narrowed eyes of the ex-bartender, and his ownglance fell. Cinnabar Joe was a man to be reckoned with. Purdy had seenthat peculiar squint leap into the man's eyes once or twice before--andeach time a man had died--swiftly, and neatly. The horse-thief laughed,uneasily: "I was only jokin'. What do I care what the women say? Come onover here a piece, an' I'll tell you what I want. You asked me if therewas anything you could do."

  "Say it here," answered Cinnabar without taking his eyes from the man'sface.

  Purdy shrugged: "All right. But first let me tell you somethin' fer yerown good. Don't kill me! I've got three pals not so far from here that'sin on--well, you know what. I told 'em the whole story--an' if anythinghappens to me--up you go--see? An' if you try to double-cross me--up yougo, too. You git that, do you? Well, here's what you got to do. It ain'tmuch. I've got a boarder fer you. It's a woman. Keep her here fer aweek, an' don't let anyone know she's here. Then I'll come an' git her.That's all!"

  "Who is she, an' what you goin' to do with her?"

  "That ain't none of yer damn business!" snapped Purdy, "an' mind youdon't try to bushwhack me, an' don't let no one know she's here, oryou'll spend the rest of your life in Deer Lodge--an' me an' Jennie'llrun the outfit----"

  With a cry Jennie threw herself upon her husband who, unarmed, hadlaunched himself at Purdy. "Joe! Joe! He'll kill you! He's got hisguns!" she shrieked, and held on the tighter as Cinnabar struggled
blindly to free himself. Purdy vaulted into his saddle and dashed acrossthe creek. Upon the opposite side he jerked his horse to a stand, andwith a wave of his hand, indicated the coulee down which he had come:"She's up there a piece on a cayuse tied to a tree. Go get her--she'shad a hard ride."

  Cinnabar succeeded in freeing himself from his wife's grasp, and dashedfor the house. Purdy stopped speaking abruptly and spurring his horsemadly, whirled and dashed for the shelter of a cottonwood grove. As heplunged into the thicket a gun cracked behind him, and a piece of barkflew from the side of a tree not a foot from his head. "The damn fool! Iwonder if he knew I was lyin' about tellin' the others. He sure as hellwas shootin' to kill--an' he damn near called my bluff!"

  Working out of the thicket into the mouth of a deep coulee, Purdy roderapidly into the bad lands.

  Three or four miles from the hang-out of the Grimshaw gang, was a rockygorge that had become the clandestine meeting place of the four whosought to break the yoke of Grimshaw's domination. Unlike the cave, theplace was not suited to withstand a siege, but a water-hole suppliedmoisture for a considerable area of grass, and made a convenient placeto turn the horses loose while the conspirators lay among the rocks andplotted the downfall of their chief. Purdy made straight for this gorge,and found the other three waiting.

  "Where in hell you be'n?" asked one, "we be'n here sence noon." Purdyeyed the speaker with contempt: "Who wants to know?" he asked andreceiving no answer, continued, "where I be'n is my business. Why don'tyou ask Cass where he's be'n, sometime? If you fellers are goin' tofollow my lead, I'll be boss--an' where I've be'n is my own business."

  "That's right," assented one of the others, in a conciliating tone."Don't git to scrappin' amongst ourselves. What we wanted to tell you:the Flyin' A's raid is off."

  "Off!" cried Purdy, "what do you mean, off?"

  "Cass told me this noon. The IX rodeo has worked down this side of themountains, an' it'll be a week before the slope's clear of riders."

  Purdy broke into a torrent of curses. The Flying A horse raid, plannedfor that very night, was to have been the end of Cass Grimshaw. He wasto have been potted by his own men--both Cass and his loyal henchman,Bill.

  After a few moments Purdy quieted down. He rolled a cigarette and as hesmoked his brows knitted into a frown. Finally he slapped his leg. "Allright, then--he'll take it where he gits it!" The others waited. "It'sthis way," he explained, "we ain't got time to dope it all today--but behere tomorrow noon. Tonight everything goes as usual--tomorrow night,Cass Grimshaw goes to hell--an' it'll be the Purdy gang then, an' wewon't stop at horse-runnin' neither." The men looked from one to theother, uneasily. "It's better this way anyhow," announced Purdy, "we'llbump him off, an' collect the reward. I know a feller that'll collectit--I've got somethin' on him--he's got to."

  "We're all in the gang," muttered the man who had asked Purdy where hehad been, "looks like if you had somethin' on someone you'd let us allin."

  "Not by a damn sight! If I did, what would keep you from double-crossin'me, an' goin' after him yerselves. All you got to do is be here tomorrownoon--then we'll cut the cards to see who does the trick."

  Grumbling dubiously, the men caught up their horses, and scatteringapproached the hang-out from different directions. As Purdy rode hescowled blackly, cursing venomously the heavens overhead, the earthbeneath, and all the inhabitants thereof. "I overplayed my hand when Imade Cinnabar sore," he muttered. "But he'll come around in a week.Trouble is, I've took too much on. Cass an' Bill'll git theirn tomorrownight, that'll give me time to git organized, an' horn the pilgrim outof his five thousan', an' git it over with by the twentieth when oldMcWhorter's due fer his lonesome jag, an' then fer three days I'll havemy own way with the girl--an' when I've had her fer three days--she'llnever go back!" A sudden thought struck him, and he pulled up and gazedtoward Red Sand while a devilish gleam played in his narrowed eyes."Gawd," he muttered, "drunk as he gits, the shack could burn to theground--it's every man fer hisself--might's well play safe. An' afterthat comes Cinnabar's turn--an' another woman's goin' to pay fer bein'free with her tongue. Then the Wolf River bank. Damn 'em!" he cried,suddenly, "I'll clean 'em all! I'm smarter'n the whole mess of 'em. I'ma killer! I'm the last of the loboes! Cass depended on friends, butme--the name of Purdy'll chill their guts!"