Oliver Strange - Sudden Westerns 05 - Law O' The Lariat(1935) (9 page)

 
          
That
evening, in the seclusion of his own quarters, he told Larry of the day’s
events, omitting the name of the would-be assassin. His friend’s comment was
characteristic.

 
          
“Well,
they say
fools is
lucky,” he said.

 
          
“They
must be, or yu would ‘a’ been wearin’ wings long ago,” Severn retorted.

 
          
“Two
shots at yu in the open, an’ missed,” Sunset went on. “Course yu was jumpin’
when he fired the second.”

 
          
“I
shore wasn’t stoppin’ to pick flowers,” grinned the other. “I didn’t look to be
bushwhacked there, neither.”

 
          
“D’yu
reckon
Stevens an’ Masters did?” asked Larry
sarcastically.

 
          
“Masters
may turn up again,” the foreman stated, though without much conviction in his
tone.

 
          
“Did
you know that bushwhackin’ skunk?”

 
          
“Yeah,
it was Ignacio,” was the reply.

 
          
Larry
whistled. “S’pose yu left him there,” he suggested.

 
          
“No,
I put him where he helped to put yore dad, an’ cut a coupla notches on the
tree,” Severn said. “That’ll get ‘em guessin’.”

 
          
“Tally
two for the 4B,” the boy said caustically. “I’m thankin’yu, Jim.”

 
          
“Shucks!
He was shootin’ at me,” the foreman reminded him. “What yu got to tell me about
the outfit?”

 
          
“I
reckon they’re all pretty straight bar one—that fella Geevor, just in from
ridin’ the line. He’s one o’ Bart’s men, an’ I’ve seen him
af
ore.” Severn nodded understandingly.
“How many yu takin’
to-morrow?”

 
          
“Six,
includin’ myself; oughta be enough to swing a little herd like that.”

 
          
A
reminder that an early start had to be made in the morning sent the guest back
to the bunkhouse, his curiosity unsatisfied. “Bloomin’ clam,” he muttered
disgustedly. “But he’s got an ace in the hole all right, I’ll betcha.”

 
          
Soon
after daybreak the drive started. Severn gave instructions that the cattle were
to be permitted to go their own pace, being merely kept on the move; he did not
want the beasts tired in case it should be necessary to push them hard towards
the end of the journey. With such a small herd and an easy trail, he reckoned
on reaching the XT during the afternoon. Mile after mile dropped behind them,
and nearly half the distance was accomplished without incident.

 
          
A
couple of miles from Skull Canyon Severn called a halt for rest and a meal.
When the journey was resumed, the foreman, riding ahead, turned into a
growth-cluttered gully almost at right angles to the trail they had been
following. Gecvor, stationed on the left front of the herd, spurred across.

 
          
“Hey,
boss, this ain’t the way,” he cried. “The trail to the XT goes right through
Skull Canyon.”

 
          
“I
know, but I reckon this is safer, Geevor,” the foreman replied, and did not
fail to note that the shifty eyes fell before his own.

 
          
“Well,
it’s yore say-so, but this is one hell of a place to get cows through,” came
the sullen retort.

 
          
“Yu
think Skull Canyon would ‘a’ been easier, eh?” Severn asked meaningly.

 
          
The
man muttered something about its being an open trail, and subsided. The next
few miles justified his criticism, for the cattle had to be driven over ground
bristling with natural obstacles. Dense undergrowth, thickets of young trees,
streams, rocky ridges, and declivities all had to be overcome, and the riders
had their work cut out to hold the herd together. They had got over the worst
of it and emerged into an open, grassy stretch when two pistol shots rang out,
and Severn turned to see Geevor staring stupidly at the smoking gun he was
holding. Angrily he rode over.

 
          
“What’s
the big idea?” he asked. “Tryin’ to stampede the herd, huh?”

 
          
“Gun
wasn’t ridin’ easy, so I pulled her out an’ blame me if she
don’t
go off,” the cowboy explained. “Dunno how it happened.”

 
          
The
foreman had to be content with the explanation, though he felt convinced that
the shots had been purposely fired. Was the fellow in league with the bandits?
It was more than likely and Severn gave the word for more speed. He kept a
watchful eye on Geevor, and presently noticed that the man’s horse was limping.

 
          
“Hoss
has gone lame; I’ll have to catch yu up,” the rider said sullenly.

 
          
The
foreman bit on an oath. “Yu’ll stay with us, Geevor,” he replied acidly. “If yu
keep yore toes outa his elbows the hoss’ll soon get over his lameness.”

 
          
“I
ain’t—”

 
          
“Straight—T
know it,” Severn cut in. “When we get back to the Lazy M, yu can drift, but for
now, yu stay with the herd.” The shifty eyes again wavered and dropped.

 
          
After
about three miles, the detour they had taken brought them back to the trail
again, and to the XT ranch without further difficulty. Then only did the
foreman explain to his men his reason for the extra labour they had been put
to.

 
          
“Mebbe
it was a false alarm, boys, but I couldn’t afford to take the chance,” he said.
“I’m shore obliged to yu for puttin’ it through.”

 
          
Ridge,
a bulky man of middle-age, with a broad, weather-worn face, met them outside an
empty corral, looked over and counted the herd, and invited Severn to adjourn
to the house, at the same time telling two of his men to make the visitors
welcome.

 
          
The
foreman had a last word. “When yu boys have fed yore faces yu can start for
home,” he said. “I’ll be follerin’ later.” And to Larry, “Come to the house an’
tell me when yo’re ready to go.”

 
          
The
meal over, the two men adjourned to the “parlour” to settle their business.

 
          
Severn
was expressing his thanks when Larry came to say the men were about to start.
He drew his foreman aside.

 
          
“I’m
agoin’ to stay an’ ride back with yu,” he said. “It ain’t safe for yu to be
projectin’ about here on yore own.”

 
          
“Yu’ll
do as yo’re dam well told an’ go with the others,” the foreman replied. “When I
want dry-nursin’, I’ll let yu know. What time did Geevor go?”

 
          
“Who
told yu? Well, it’s a good guess, anyways,” said Larry. “‘Bout half an hour
back he slid out, an’ we ain’t seen him since.”

 
          
“Take
care o’ this—it’s the money for the herd,” Severn went on, handing him a roll
of bills.

 
          
The
boy bestowed the cash in a pocket. “Jim, it’s a risk,” said soberly.

 
          
“Life’s
full of ‘em,” Severn said lightly. “Now run along, little man, an’ keep yore
mouth as near shut as yu can get it.” Larry’s retort, heard only by his
foreman, was neither respectful nor complimentary.

 
          
Less
than an hour later, Severn also set out for the Lazy M. His chat with Ridge had
cheered him, for it showed that Bartholomew’s hold was not
so
complete as he had feared. Though he felt that the XT owner could be trusted,
he did not tell him of the slaying of Ignacio, and the finding of Masters’
rifle; he was playing in a risky game, and wanted to be sure of every step
before he took it. Later on he had reason to wish he had been more confiding.

 
          
He
took the trail by which they had brought the cattle, but this time he did not
worry about detours, riding straight for Skull Canyon. He did not hurry, and it
was dark when he reached the dismal defile. Suddenly two shadows slid from
behind a great boulder on the edge of the trail, and he heard a hoarse
command :

 
          
“Stick
‘em up, pronto, an’ climb off’n that bronc!”

 
          
Peering
through the gloom Severn could make out that two men, wearing white masks, had
their pistols trained on him. With a grin they could not see, he raised his
hands,
and kicking his feet free of the stirrups, flung one
leg over the horse’s head and slid to the ground. Instantly one of the hold-ups
advanced a step and
said :

 
          
“Cough
it up.”

 
          
“Meanin’?”
Severn asked.

 
          
“The
mazuma Ridge paid yu for the steers, o’ course,” was the reply.

 
          
The
Lazy M man laughed aloud. “I ain’t got it, friend,” he said quietly. “One o’ my
men carried that; yu mighta seen ‘em
pass
.”

 
          
“Bah!
he’s
lyin’; go through him, Slick.”

 
          
“Ain’t
yu got no sense at all?” snarled the man addressed, adding a savage curse.

 
          
“I
said go through him slick—meanin’ don’t waste time,” said the other quickly,
and the prisoner laughed again.

 
          
“Clever
fella,” he jeered. “Who told yu I’d have the money Geevor?”

 
          
“No,”
was the unthinking reply, and then, “Never heard of him.”

 
          
“Another
afterthought—
yo’re
pretty good at ‘em, ain’t yu?”
Severn bantered.

 
          
The
man gritted out an oath, and sheathing his gun, made a rapid but thorough
search of the prisoner, while the other man stood by with levelled revolver.
Not finding the plunder, he turned his attention to the horse, with a like
result.

 
          
“It
ain’t here,” he said disgustedly.

 
          
“I
done told yu that already, Mister Afterthought,” Severn said. “I reckon yu
can’t be in the habit of associatin’ with truthful men.”

 
          
The
goaded searcher snatched out his gun and thrust it into his captive’s face.
“One more yap outa yu an’ I’ll blow yu four ways to once,” he threatened.

 
          
But
this was where he made a slip. Severn’s elbows had been dropping imperceptibly
during the search and now, with an upward and outward fling of his left hand,
he was able to knock the gun muzzle wide, and at the same moment his right
fist, with a stiff, short-arm jolt, thudded into that centre of nerves and tissue
known to scientists as the solar plexus. Under that paralysing blow the
recipient doubled up like a hinge and went down gasping in agony. His companion
fired but missed, and Severn, grabbing his own gun, drove a bullet into him
before he could pull trigger again. One leap landed him in the saddle, and he
was pounding through the canyon before the bandits realised what had happened
to them.

 
          
“Yu
see,” he explained to Larry that evening, when the latter came to hand over the
money, “Geevor’s anxiety that we should go through Skull Canyon made me suspect
him. When his gun went off twice by accident, I felt pretty shore it was a
signal, an’ when his hoss goes lame so’s he can have an excuse to fall behind,
I knew. I figured he’d slip away early an’ tell his friends I was goin’ back
alone, an’ havin’ missed the herd, they’d lay for me to get the dollars. They’d
never suspicion I’d trust one o’ the men with the roll, so they’d let the
outfit go by. It worked just like I played it would.”