Oliver Strange - Sudden Westerns 01 - The Range Robbers(1930) (12 page)

 
          
“I
thought that was yore job,’
sneered
Blaynes.

 
          
“Why,
I believe the Old man did say somethin’ about it,’ replied the puncher evenly.
“I’ll have to ‘tend to it.’

 
          
“An’
watch out for the spider,’ jeered Durran.

 
          
“I
shore will. I’m obliged to yu for remindin’ me, Durran,’ smiled Green, not
failing to note the scowl which the foreman directed at the speaker.

 
          
ON
the following morning a rider spurred his mount down the main and only street
of Hatchett’s Folly, and found it, as he had expected at that time of the day,
deserted, save for a dog or two prowling in search of spots where the
blistering sun could not reach them with its full intensity. Without troubling
to slow up, he wrenched a bit and brought his horse no a sliding stop in front
of the Folly saloon, the dug-in hoofs sending up clouds of dust. He was a
short, stoutish man of about thirty, with hair almost bleached by the sun, and
a blob of a nose which had heavenly aspirations and had got its owner into more
trouble than any respectable nose should.

 
          
Dismounting
with a whoop, he hitched his pony to the rail, and entered the saloon. He found
it almost as deserted as the street outside. Two men were playing cards in a
desultory way at one of the tables, and another was leaning carelessly against
the bar, talking to Silas. One glance at this third made the newcomer stiffen
and hesitate in the doorway; but it was too late for
retreat
:
the barkeeper had seen him.

 
          
“Howdy,
Snub !
Come right in,’ he called. “How long yu bin
sufferin’ from it?’

 
          
“Sufferin’
from what?’ asked the other, as he complied with the invitation.

 
          
“Bashfulness
at the sight of a bar,’ was the reply.

 
          
“Ain’t
never had it,’ retorted the newcomer. “That sun’s powerful glary out there, an’
for a minit I couldn’t see a thing.’

 
          
At
the mention of the name, Green shot one swift
glance
at the man, but showed no other sign of interest. Snub exchanged greetings with
the other two citizens and poured himself a generous drink from the bottle
Silas pushed forward.

 
          
“How’s
tricks at the Double X?’ asked that worthy.

 
          
“So so.
Them
damn Injuns lifted
another half-dozen head, an’ Dex is hoppin’ mad about it,’ replied the puncher,
watching Green warily as he spoke. Did the fellow know him or not?
he
wondered. The nickname so incautiously divulged in the
canyon might have escaped the captive’s notice; there was nothing in the
lounging figure to lead him to think otherwise, and he began to feel easier.
Rolling a cigarette, he put it between his lips and struck a match. He was in
the act of lighting up when a shot crashed, and the bullet twitched the burning
wood from his fingers. It was immediately followed by a second, which removed
half of his cigarette, and a third which tore away the remaining portion,
leaving only fragments of paper and tobacco clinging to his lips.

 
          
“What
the ‘ell?’ he gasped, gazing pop-eyed at the still-lolling

 
          
stranger
, whose eyes gleamed with satanic amusement, and
around whose hips blue smoke was eddying.

 
          
“Just
a little joke—little practical joke, friend—habit I got,’ explained the
marksman in a soft drawling voice. “
Seein’ that I’ve just
naturally ruined yore smoke, have a cigar with me.’

 
          
He
motioned to Silas, threw the money on the counter and went out, unconcernedly
turning his broad back and offering an easy target. But Snub watched him go in
a kind of trance.

 
          
“My
Gawd!’ he said in an awed voice. “
Three shots, firin’ from
the hip.
An’ I was watchin’ him an’ never saw a move. Who is he?’

 
          
“That’s
the new “Wise-head” puncher,’ said the barkeeper with a sly smile, for he had
his own opinion of Snub, and was not greatly grieved to see him set back a
little.

 
          
“I
know that. An’ he’s shore got the right brand. But who is he?’ persisted the
victim of the “little joke.’ Then, with a shaky laugh, he added, “An’ that’s
the feller Poker is claimin’ he’ll get. Well, he can have him—entire—hide,
horns, hoofs, an’ taller. I don’t want none m’self.’

 
          
“Yu
oughtta be thankful yore nose is set the way it is,’ grinned Silas. “If yu had
bin a Jew, yore smeller woulda bin plumb spoiled by that last shot.’

 
          
“An’
that’s awful true,’ chimed in another voice, and Snap Lunt joined them. “Lo,
Silas. ‘Lo, Snub; yu look like yu been seein’ visions.’

 
          
“Did
yu see it, Snap?’ asked the bartender.

 
          
“Yeah,
I was at the door,’ was the reply. “Pretty fair shootin’.’

       
“Pretty fair shootin’?’ repeated the
indignant victim. “Why, I reckon even yu couldn’t equal it, Snap.’

 
          
“Mebbe
not,’ retorted the gunman, with the nearest thing to a smile that ever appeared
on his face. “But roll yoreself a pill; I’m willin’ to try.’

 
          
“Not
on me, yu won’t,’ Snub said instantly. “I take it back. Yu could do it—an’
more. I don’t want
no
proof. Here, Silas, give this
bloody-minded sharp-shooter somethin’ else to think of. An’ he called it a
joke, Snap. What yu think o’ that?’

 
          
“Well,
if that’s his idea of a joke, I should walk round him, a long way round
him—mile or so—when he’s feelin’ humorous,’ Lunt replied. Meanwhile the subject
of this conversation, on leaving the saloon, had gone to the main emporium of
the place, a sort of general store which stood next to the hotel. He had not
noticed Snap, for the gunman, seeing that he was about to come out, had slipped
round the corner of the Folly. He found the proprietor, a grizzled old pioneer
of sixty, ready to talk.

 
          
Was
that shootin’ I heard over to the s’loon?’ he asked.

 
          
“Only a puncher a-showin’ off.
No harm
done,
’
Green toldhim. ‘Gimmee two boxes o’ forty-fives an’ a coupla sacks o’ smokin’.
Don’t sell no cigarette-making machines, I s’pose?’

       
“Never heard tell of ‘em,’ said the
merchant. “Fellers ‘bout here all got fingers.’

 
          
“Yu
been here a long whiles?’ the puncher queried, while the ordered goods were
being produced.

 
          
“I
helped to start the blasted place—come in with old Hatchett hisself.
Yessir,
an’ we all reckoned we was goin’ to strike it rich,
but it was a false alarm. My, but she was a lively town while the gold-boom
lasted !
An’ there was more money in undertakin’ than
minim’. I expect I’m about the on’y one o’ that crowd left.’

 
          
“Yu
was here when Old Simon sifted in from—now where was it I heard he came from?’

 
          
“Texas.
Though I can’t call to mind the name o’ the place.
Yes, that’d be around eighteen years back. It was him comin’ decided me to stop
on.
Curious feller, Old Simon.
Kept
his affairs strictly under his own hat.
Allus give me the idea he didn’t
want to be found.’

 
          
“How
was that?’ Green asked interestedly.

 
          
“Just
a fancy o’ mine, p’raps; but years ago I’ve seen him in thisyer store, an’ if a
stranger come into town he’d keep outa sight till he’d had a good look at him.’

 
          
“Ever
see his wife?’

 
          
“He
didn’t have
none
when he come here. There was just
him, and the girl, and
a
Injun woman to keep house an’
look after the kid.’

 
          
Glancing
out of the door, Green saw the Double X puncher crossing the street to the
hotel, outside which he was joined by the slouching figure of the gambler,
Poker Pete. They stood conversing a few moments, and then the cowboy got his
horse, mounted, and rode in the direction of his ranch. His companion
re-entered the hotel.
Green turned no the storekeeper.

 
          
“How
long has that tinhorn card-sharp, Pete, been infestin’ these parts?’ he asked.

 
          
The
old man made a gesture of caution. “For the
love o’ Mike
don’t
shout it,’ he urged. “While I allow he’s all that an’ more, it
ain’t noways wise to say so. He’s got a powerful pull in these parts, an’ fellers
as go against him don’t seem to last long. He don’t live here—been sort o’
payin’ visits off an’ on ‘bout two years, stayin’ at the hotel.’

 
          
“Well,
I’m shore scared,’ laughed the customer, as he paid for his purchases. “
So long, old-timer.’

 
          
Crossing
the street, he mounted his horse, fully conscious that he was being watched by
at least a dozen citizens. The story of his “joke’ on Snub was now common
property and men who had not seen the shooting naturally wanted a look at the
man who had done it. Opposite the hotel he pulled up and sat looking at the
building. “The buzzard shan’t say I didn’t give him a chance no make a play,’
he muntered. But the gambler did not appear, and after a wait of some minutes,
Green rode on.

 
          
Three
miles out of the town the trail forked, one way leading to the Y Z, and the
other to the Double X. Green hesitated here, and then selected the latter.
Passing through a narrow, winding gorge a faint clink, as of metal upon stone,
warned him that another traveller was behind. He could see no one, but not
feeling in the mood for risks, promptly took cover behind a clump of scrub-oak
some ten yards from the trail. As the rider emerged round the bend, the watcher
gripped the nostrils of his pony to prevent it from whinnying. The other
traveller proved to be Poker Pete. He loped past unsuspectingly, hunched in his
saddle, and with a dark frown on his unprepossessing feanures.

 
          
Now
where’s he goin’?’ speculated the cowboy. “Can’t be follerin’ me—he’d expect me
to take the other trail. Well, there’s on’y one way to find out.’

 
          
He
mounned and rode cautiously in the wake of the gambler, keeping well to the
rear, and guiding his horse into the soft parts of the trail so that no sound
of hoof should reach the man in front. The frequent bends and twists in the
trail made it a simple matter to keep out of sight. It was after a rather
abrupt turn that he feared he had lost his quarry. The gambler was not in view,
despite a straight stretch ahead which he could hardly have covered in the time
without a considerable speeding up. Green looked about for another explanation
of his disappearance. A cracking twig supplied one. It came from a narrow draw
on the left of the trail. There was a faint pathway, and the puncher, keeping a
wary eye on the undergrowth, followed it. Presently a thin spiral of smoke
showed against the right-hand wall of the draw, and he heard a voice say: “Lo,
Pete. Yu bin a long time a-comin’.’

 
          
Green
slid from the saddle, tied the animal in the bushes, and began to climb the
side of the draw. Foot by foot he worked his way up and along until, by parting
the coarse grass, he could see the spot from which the smoke was ascending. By
the side of a small fire Pete and Snub were squatting cross-legged, and the
cowboy was pouring coffee from a battered pot into two tin mugs. Green had
missed some of the conversation, but he soon gathered that Pete was in a vile
temper.

 
          
“Four
of yu, an’ then yu had to let him get away,’ he sneered. “Why didn’t yu bump
him off an’ plant him ‘stead o’ makin’ that fool-play?’