Oliver Strange - Sudden Westerns 05 - Law O' The Lariat(1935) (15 page)

 
          
“We’ll
never make it—they got better horses,” the cowboy concluded, but he kept it to
himself.

 
          
Side
by side they raced on, the wiry little cow-ponies at full stretch, willing to
run till they dropped; the girl rode magnificently, as though part of the
animal beneath her and coaxing every foot of speed out of it. Larry looked back
and stifled a curse when he saw that the pursuers had gained. Then a bullet
whined past and they heard the crash of the report.

 
          
He
had no doubt it was the girl they wanted. Another
shot ”
came, his horse stumbled, and the cowboy jumped clear just as the animal
pitched headlong, quivered and lay still. The girl pulled up with a cry of
dismay.

 
          
“Go
ahead—ride for the ranch,” he cried. “I can hold ‘em for a piece.”

 
          
“But
they’ll get you, Larry,” she protested. “Jump up behind me.”

 
          
“We
couldn’t make it ridin’ double; they don’t want me—it’s yu they’re after,” he
urged. “Ride like hell for the boys. Tell Severn I did my best.”

 
          
“I’ll
remember, Larry—I’ll always remember,” she said softly, and he saw that her
eyes were misted.

 
          
Without
another word she raced off and the cowboy dragged his rifle from under the
saddle and stretched himself behind the dead horse. The bandits had halted and
were bunched together about six hundred yards away, but a bullet from Larry
which dropped a horse sent them out on a half circle. A couple of shots came in
reply but they went wide. To his surprise the men made no effort to follow the
fleeing girl. Certainly the two on the extreme right and left began a detour,
but they rode slowly and presently vanished. The others remained, standing near
the horses, and well out of range.

 
          
“Goin’
to sneak up on me from the back,” Larry surmised. He looked and saw that there
was a ridge behind him which would make the manoeuvre a simple one. “Wish I had
a hoss.”

 
          
But
it was no use wishing, so he rolled a cigarette, lighted it and lay smoking,
waiting philosophically for the next move in the game. Half an hour passed and
then from the ridge behind came a gruff
command :

 
          
“Drop
that gun, shuck off yore belt, an’ elevate yore paws; two of us
has
got yu covered.”

 
          
Larry
stood up, leaving his rifle on the ground, unbuckled his belt and let it fall,
but instead of putting up his hands he used them to make another smoke.

 
          
“Come
ahead,” he said coolly.

 
          
Two
masked men rose up from the brow of the ridge and stalked down upon him, rifles
ready for the least movement.

 
          
“I
told yu to put yore hands up,” growled the one who had spoken before.

 
          
“I
forgot, an’ I’m keepin’ on forgettin’,” laughed the prisoner. “What yu goin’ to
do about it?”

 
          
The
man snarled out an oath, scooped up the rifle and belt, and sent his companion
for their horses. At the same moment the other four came galloping up, two of
them using the same mount. One, who appeared to be the leader, jumped down and,
producing a piece of paper from his pocket, fixed it in a cleft stick and
jammed it into the ground. Larry watched’ this proceeding amazedly.

 
          
“If
yo’re erectin’
a
eppytaph to the hoss his name’s
‘Bouncer’,” he volunteered.

 
          
“Tie
him on a hoss—two o’ yu’ll have to ‘de double,” was the only response.

 
          
So
Larry, astride one of the bandit horses, his legs roped beneath its belly,
found himself heading for the Pinnacles, ignorant of the fate in store for. But
he was not unduly downcast; Phil’s last words, ane fact that she was safe, were

 
          
a
sufficient compensation.

 
          
The
arrival of the girl at the ranch, riding a spent and lathered pony, brought the
foreman and those of the outfit there running. In a few words she told what had
happened. Severn wasted no time.

 
          
“Hosses
an’ guns,” he ordered.

 
          
“One
for me, Darby,” Phil added.

 
          
The
foreman looked at her. “I doubt if yo’re fit—” he began.

 
          
“I’m
going,” she told him. “It was for me—” She broke off and turned away.

 
          
Severn
made no further objection, and in a few moments he, six men and the girl set out
for the scene of the attack. They rode in grim silence, the only sound the
jingle of spur or bit and the creak of saddle leather. Not until Phil warned
them they were nearing the spot did they slacken pace. Presently Severn called
a halt, just short of a ridge the girl remembered crossing directly she left
the cowboy.

 
          
“Stay
here, boys,” he said. “They may be waitin’ for us, an’ there’s no sense in our
buttin’ into an ambush.”

 
          
He
rode forward alone, topped the rise and vanished.

 
          
“Black
Bart would ‘a’ sent one of us to do that,” the girl heard Darby say, and the
other men laughed assent.

 
          
Somehow
she felt that it was true, and a spasm of respect for the man who took the risk
himself when he need not shot through her. Then came another thought, bred of
Bartholomew’s poisoned
suggestions :
was there any
risk to Severn, or was he only playing a part? Her speculations were cut short
by the return of the foreman.

 
          
“The
hoss is there—what the buzzards have left of it—saddle an’ bridle gone, an’ no
sign of Larry barrin’ this paper,” he said. “Here’s what she
says
:
’We got yore man, Severn. If yu want him, be at Skull Canyon to-morrow
about noon, an’ fetch along two thousand dollars. If yu ain’t there, or try any
tricks, he stretches rope.—THE MASK.’ “

 
          
A
cry from Phil, and a chorus of muttered curses from the men greeted the
epistle, which was scrawled in pencil on a page apparently torn from an account
book, for it was ruled for figures and numbered. The writing, Severn noted,
appeared to be the same as on the scrap he had taken from Ignacio’s body.
Moodily he gave the word to return, and the girl whirled upon him.

 
          
“Aren’t
you going to do anything?” she asked. “Surely you’re not leaving him to die?”

 
          
“There
is nothin’ we can do now,” Severn told her. “They’ll have covered their tracks,
an’ s’pose we could trail ‘em, we’d on’y run into an ambush; they ain’t
overlookin’ that bet.” She stared at him, storm in her eyes.

 
          
“I
call it cowardly,” she said. “If you won’t lead the men, I will.”

 
          
Severn
did not reply and, looking at the others, she knew that they would not follow
her. It was Darby who answered. “The foreman’s right, Miss Phil,” he said. “No
good buttin’ yore head agin a rock. S’pose we did find ‘em, an’ it ain’t like
lyin that pile o’ up-ended country, they might hang Larry pronto. They got us
out on a limb, shore enough.”

 
          
With
a glance of contempt which made the men squirm in their saddles, the angry girl
swung her horse round on the home trail. She rode in silent disdain, trying to
reconcile the smiling face of the boy who had squired her so joyously in the
morning with the grim-faced man who had so roughly told her to “ride like hell
for the boys”, and who had cheerfully sacrificed, perhaps his life, for her
sake.

 
          
When,
after a troubled night, she came down on the following morning, she found the
foreman waiting to see her. Handing her a roll of bills, he
said
:

 
          
“That’s
the money for the herd, less what I’ve paid for expenses; yu had better put it
in a safe place.”

 
          
“Why
are you giving it to me?” she asked.

 
          
“Yu
are forgettin’ that I’ve got an engagement,” he pointed out.

 
          
“You
are going to Skull Canyon?” she cried. “But then you will want the money.”

 
          
“Of
course I’m goin’, but I’m not takin’ any cash,” he said. “I ain’t a kid.”

 
          
“But
what do you intend to do?”

 
          
“I
dunno; I’ll have to see what cards I get before I
an
play ‘em.”

 
          
His
tone was light, and there was even a quirk of amusement in the corners of his
eyes. Yet he was taking a desperate chance. But was he? Despite her better
feelings the old suspicion recurred.

 
          
“Perhaps
it isn’t so dangerous after all,” she said coldly. “You may have friends
there.”

 
          
For
a single instant the man lost his iron control and she quailed before the
savage anger in his eyes.

 
          
“Listen
to me, girl,” he said. “God Almighty placed a pretty head on yore shoulders an’
it seems impossible that He shouldn’t have put some brains in it. Use them.”

 
          
Without
another word he strode from the room, sprang into the saddle of his waiting
horse, and rode off. The girl, aghast at the sudden spate of passion she had
aroused, saw him wave a farewell to the watching outfit and vanish. Then she
dropped into the nearest chair and stared with hard, unseeing eyes, at the
wall. She had encountered a novel experience and she did not like it. Men in
anger she had often seen enough, but never had that anger been directed at her.
Little demons of doubt pursued her all day; she found herself watching the
northern trail anxiously, and knew she was looking for Larry.

 
          
BY
the time he had covered a mile Severn had recovered his customary calm, and was
taking himself to task for having lost it.

 
          
He
had told the truth when he admitted that he did not know how the rescue of the
prisoner was to be
effected
; he had made no plans. He
figured that the bandits did not want Larry, and the fact that he had been
named as the bringer of the ransom made him pretty certain that he was the one
they wished to lay hands on; it was a trap and the cowboy was the bait. He
smiled grimly; he was willing to be caught.

 
          
“What
with the girl, Bart, an’ these fly-by-nights, I’m ‘bout as welcome as a wet
dawg in this neck o’ the woods,” he soliloquized.

 
          
It
was nearing noon when he reached the entrance to Skull Canyon, pulled up and
sat waiting, a smile of contempt on his lips. He would not have been surprised
to see a spurt of flame from the brush and to feel hot lead tearing through his
body, but instead, a hidden voice hailed him.

 
          
“Drop
yore belt an’ rifle an’ put up yore hands, Severn; we got yu dead to rights.”

 
          
The
foreman obeyed the order, and a masked man, leading his horse, emerged from a
clump of undergrowth twenty yards away. Picking up the discarded weapons he
climbed into his saddle and said
gruffly :

 
          
“Foller
my tracks, an’ if you feel like makin’ a break, just remember there’s a coupla
chaps behind yu with orders to shoot.”

 
          
“I
didn’t come here to play the fool,” Severn said acidly.
“Where
yu takin’ me?”

 
          
“Wait
an’ see,” was the laconic answer.