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Based on a vintage Arizona travel poster (ca. 1920)
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RGL e-Book Cover©
Based on a vintage Arizona travel poster (ca. 1920)
Cowboy Stories, March 1960, with "Leach of the Bar G Bar"
Joe Leach waltzed into Sunrise County and took charge of the Bar G Bar in the interest of its legal owner. But Aunt Hennie Billings, the sharp- tongued old maid who also claimed the ranch and was its actual possessor, thought the "young feller" was working for her. Joe felt right mean about the way he was fooling Aunt Hennie, but felt plumb ornery in that set-to with the gang which was rustling Bar G Bar stock. And because he had aimed only to see justice carried out, things squared up even all around in a way that came as a complete surprise to him.
SOME two miles outside Las Vegas, a young man lolled in the saddle and rolled a smoke, and whistled thoughtfully as he eyed the Sangre de Cristo peaks off to the west. His saddle was highly uncomfortable, having been rented with the horse at a Las Vegas stable early that morning. The stretch of level road where he waited was a lonely one.
Purring out of town was the big automobile of Tom Crocker, whose Lazy C brand was known all over New Mexico. Tom Crocker himself was known even farther. He was a small, spry, spare man approaching fifty, gray under his Stetson, with a wrinkled and sun-tanned face studded with twinkling gray eyes. Beside him sat another cattle magnate, Moran. A rousing poker session had just broken up in town.
"Then you'll not do anything with that Indian Valley place?" asked Moran, as Crocker made himself comfortable for the forty-mile drive home.
"Nope," said Crocker. "I'm getting old, Bill, and sort of hanker after peace. I can afford to let that there outfit alone, I reckon. Williams was the wrong man anyhow. I got enough worldly goods without going up against a posse of wildcats in the hills to grab more. The thing belongs to me now, but I'll let her lay."
"Ain't like you," commented Bill Moran.
"Neither is the rheumatism," and Crocker grimaced. "I got to go up to the Springs and boil out. Besides, I'm sort of taking care of myself in my old age, with that girl of mine to look out for. She sure was hell-set on not going East to school last week. I had a regular fight on my hands."
"How-come? She liked it all right last year."
"Yep, but she had a notion of running an outfit of her own. Naturally, I wouldn't hear to that." Crocker chuckled. "I packed up her duds unbeknownst to her, took her for a drive, landed her at the depot, and chucked her aboard the eastbound limited with a thousand cash in her handbag—just like that. She like to threw a fit over it, but she went."
Moran grinned, and shifted the cigar in his mouth.
"If I know her," he said, "she's liable to drop off that train and come back, or worse. She's got all your stubborn fighting foolishness, Tom. I'd hate to stack up against that girl when her dander's up!"
"Huh! So would I," admitted the fond parent. "That's why I got her off that-a-way. She's got her head full of old-timers' yarns about fighting and so forth. She heard about the lawsuit and me getting Indian Valley adjudged to me, and she was plumb set on going there and fighting it out. Doggone it, she's got spirit! But I aim to have peace."
"Get her married off."
"Huh! She'll do her own picking, don't worry—hell's bells! What's this?"
The brakes screamed. "This" proved to be a young man sitting his horse in the center of the road, horse and man apparently sound asleep. Crocker shouted angrily, and brought his car to a halt. The indolent rider woke up, straightened himself, and brought into view a large pistol covering the two in the car.
"Put 'em up and climb out," he ordered, and grinned. "Don't try to run over me—the trigger's quicker'n the engine. If you want to prove it, go ahead."
Both men took the holdup in silence, knowing they had too much cash about their persons to resist and trying to think of some circumventing method. Crocker sniffed in disgust and got out of the car, while Moran followed suit on the other side.
"Circle front and join," ordered the bandit cheerfully.
They did so, keeping their arms well up. The holdup man dismounted, with befitting caution, and threw his horse's reins over its head. He was a long-jawed young man, with a most infectious smile and twinkle in his eyes; those eyes were dark blue, and were wrinkled at the corners, while his shoved-back hat showed crisp light hair, bleached by sun and wind. Not a desperate character by any means—and not one to take any chances with.
"I'm not right used to these automatic pistols," he observed, "but the safety catch is off and I reckon she'll shoot easy enough. Now let's see what you got."
He shoved the pistol against the body of Crocker, and removed from the latter's coat pocket an old-fashioned forty-five revolver. Then he turned his attention to Bill Moran, who proved unarmed.
"I reckon you gents might sit down on that bumper without bending it," he said, and examined Crocker's weapon. Then he held out his own to the astonished cattleman. "Here you are, for a souvenir."
Crocker took the weapon from the grinning bandit, and examined it.
"Durn your eyes!" he said. "Unloaded!"
"Sure," said the other. "Yours is loaded, though."
And he carelessly drew back the hammer of the revolver. Moran chuckled.
"That's a good one on you, Tom Crocker! A good one. How much will you take to let us go, feller?"
"I ain't a feller," said the bandit in his cheerful fashion. "My name's Joe Leach."
"And you're a hell of a bandit," said Crocker promptly. "Holding up two gents without even a mask, and then telling your name! Huh I How much you Want?"
"Ten minutes," said Leach. The two men sitting on the bumper stared at him.
"Ten—what?" exclaimed Moran, puzzled.
"Minutes." Leach assumed an air of patience, "I see I got to speak in words of one syllabic. Well, I was trying yesterday to see a hombre named Tom Crocker, and he was too durned busy with a poker session. I wanted to see him last night—nothing doing. I done heard that when the session was over he'd blow out home in his car, and then maybe would be a hundred miles away when I got there. So I aimed to see him here and now, and I done it."
Moran opened his mouth and gaped. Crocker's eyes bit out like steel.
"Mean to say this holdup was a joke?"
"Not by a durned sight," said Leach earnestly. "It ain't a joke, believe me! I aimed to get your personal attention, and I need it bad."
"Well, you sure got it," said Crocker, his lips twitching. "What you want of me?"
"A job."
Crocker swallowed hard. Moran broke into a rumbling chuckle that became a full-bellied laugh.
"Hurray!" he chortled. "This is pretty rich. Held up for a job! I'll give you a job. Leach—you bet! I can use you."
"I'm talkin' to Tom Crocker right now, thanks," said Leach, and put up the gun in his hand to roll a smoke. "I'm sort of interested in working for you, Crocker."
"How come?" snapped the cattle magnate.
"I've heard you ain't got no use for any but a top-hand— I'm that. I've heard you can dispose of big jobs, more than just herding or even running a ranch. That's the kind I want. I've heard you're hard as nails, back up a man to the limit if he makes good, kick him out if he doesn't, and are just. You suit me right down to the ground, Crocker. How about it?"
Tom Crocker laughed, and it was hard o say whether this laugh held more anger or amusement.
"Want to run a ranch for me, do you?"
"No," said Leach. "I want a man's job, if you've got one."
"Huh!" Crocker surveyed him up and down, and reached for a plug of tobacco. He bit at it jerkily. "Huh! Think you can run a blazer on me like this, do you—think I'll fall for it? You don't know me, feller. What do you know about my business?"
"Everything except local conditions," said Leach promptly. "And—"
"Know how to use a gun?"
"No. I can't hit a barn at fifty feet."
Moran chuckled at this. Crocker grunted again.
"Know everything about my business, do you? Prove up, hombre! You don't look like any cattleman to me. Where you from?"
"Born in the short-grass country. My folks moved to Montana. I been all kinds of things on a ranch. Been back East for a year tackling business, and failed at it. I'm broke."
"Huh! When you're broke, you ain't particular how you land a job."
"Naturally not," admitted Leach. "But I'm particular about what job I land."
Crocker turned and looked at Moran. "Ain't he a bird. Bill—ain't he, now? Me, I think he's plumb crazy."
"Me too," said Moran. The cheerful Mr. Leach grinned amiably.
"I'm tempted to agree with you gents at times. Do I drift back to town without a job or with one?"
"I'll give you a job, if you'll take it," said Crocker, with grim intonation.
"I'll take it," said Leach.
"You'll wish to thunder you hadn't!" growled Bill Moran, grinning to himself.
"Huh! I reckon you will," added Crocker.
"Probably so," said Leach. "Name the card."
"Ever hear of Indian Valley? No? Well, it's quite a ways from here in the wrong direction and you can get there quicker with an automobile than on a train," said Crocker. "Got any money?"
"Nine dollars and thirty cents."
Crocker reached into his pocket and produced a roll of bills, stripping off ten.
"Here's a hundred. I got an old flivver laying in the Stone Garage, in town, and you go get it—you can have it. Go to Indian Valley, over in Sunrise County. At Sunrise City, you'll find an agent of mine, if he ain't dead or lynched or run out. He's quit on the job. His name is Williams, Ernie Williams. He'll tell you what the job is, and durned glad to do it so's he can quit. Want it?"
"It's my job," said Leach. "What's in it if I win?"
"Five thousand bonus and five thousand a year running things there for me."
"You're on." Leach held out the revolver. "You might want this if you meet a real holdup, and I might want my pistol—that's right. Thanks. An empty gun is a whole lot more good to me than a full one. Keeps me out of jail."
"Huh!" said Crocker, standing up. "If I was you, I wouldn't go around using my name. It ain't healthy over in that section."
"Oh!" said Leach thoughtfully. "So that's it, huh? Suits me fine. Much obliged. I'll report when the job's finished."
"If it ain't finished, don't report," said Crocker, climbing into the car. "So long!"
THE big car went rolling away. Leach stared after it
thoughtfully, then a grin came into his face.
"Huh!" he exclaimed in mimicry of his employer's grunt. "Huh! If you knew that Sally Crocker had put me up to this way of introducing myself, and that she and I aimed to get married, you'd of said 'So long!' in a different tone of voice, I reckon. If I hadn't met her back East last year, I'd still be there. Well—get along, you mangy cayuse!"
And Mr. Leach rode back to town, whistling cheerfully.
SOME days thereafter, Joe Leach came thumping into Sunrise City in a wheezy, battered old bunch of junk that had once been a good car. It was still a car—that was all.
He knew nothing more of his job than when he had taken it, but he had learned a little about Indian Valley. It was a small, rich valley up in the hills, off from everywhere, settled two generations back by a wagon-train of Missourians, and their descendants were known as hard customers, with accent on the hard.
Until the past few years they had run Indian Valley to suit themselves, keeping all strangers out, inter-marrying and in general ruling everything from courts to jobs.
After the war all barriers were down and outsiders got in, but not all of them stayed. It was a tough country on foreigners, as those from the outside world were locally-termed.
Leach faced the prospect cheerfully. He rolled over a steep divide, came down a twelve-mile, winding, twisting grade, and pounded along the valley floor on three cylinders for several miles, until he came into the one and only town of Sunrise City. All around loomed mountain peaks, while the main valley and its branches were a rich and fertile green, watered by a. perpetual seepage. Beside the town was a good-sized stream of water. The farms were prosperous, the outlying ranches thick with fat cattle; most of the ranching part of the valley lay in the upper end beyond town, and in the branch valleys.
Rattling over a bridge, Leach drew up before a garage. Automobiles were few here, as the old-fashioned pump testified. Leach opened up his tank and watched as the gas was pumped in one gallon at a time, called the halt, and screwed down the cap. Then he smiled at the dour-faced proprietor as he reached for his money.
"Great place, this! Know a gent here by the name of Williams? Ernie Williams?"
"Heard of him," said the other, with an appraising, unfriendly look. "Friend, huh?"
"Friend?" said Leach, and his smile vanished. "Listen here \ That hombre done me out of fifty dollars, see? I've run him down to here. I aim to collect, or bust his face. If you know him, where is he?"
The garage man grinned and loosened up, as he made change.
"Reckon you'll find him up to the hotel, stranger. He's been fixing to leave town, but I ain't seen him go out this morning. Done you out of money, huh?"
"He sure did—him and the man he works for," said Mr. Leach. "If there's two low-down coyotes on the face of the earth, it's them!"
"Well, I dunno you're far wrong there." said the other. "Hotel's along up the street on the right. Reckon you won't find Williams there till noon, though."
"If he's there then, that's all I ask," said Leach. "Much obliged, partner!"
He drove off up the street as directed.
SUNRISE CITY was a rambling place, sprawling beside the river
and over two low hills, with no crowding. The one business street
was several blocks long. Hitch-racks lined the walk, and the dust
was considerably allayed by gentlemen whose chief occupations lay
in sunning themselves and masticating tobacco. The courthouse was
a large building of brick and adobe, and its wide square was
shaded by stately trees. Beyond it lay the hotel.
As he slowly drove along, Leach was aware of eyes following him; he was being critically appraised. The garage man, he knew, would lose no time in spreading abroad that this "foreigner" was looking for Williams—all well and good.
Before the shabby frame hotel Leach halted his flivver, alighted, and stretched himself. No one was in sight on the hotel verandah, the chairs were unoccupied. He strode in, and found a one-eyed gentleman behind a counter.
"Howdy," he greeted genially. "I'm looking for a feller by the name of Williams, and I heard he's stopping here. Where can I find him?"
The one eye appraised him critically.
"Take a chair on the porch and he'll be along for dinner, I reckon. From down below?"
"Uh-huh. And going higher up. Reckon I'll eat dinner instead of Williams—he won't cat much when I get done with him."
"Oh!" said One-Eye, with interest.
"So friendly I'll put him in the hospital if he don't give up what he stole off me!" said Leach.
With this to amuse the gentleman, Leach went back to the porch. He picked out an unbroken chair, adjusted it to suit himself, leaned back comfortably, reposed his feet on the rail, and settled down to wait, with the help of a cigarette.
"I'll bet this town will sure be hanging on what happens here when Williams gets back!" he reflected, and chuckled softly. "Well, I reckon they'll get a show for their money—holy poker! Holy horntoads! Is it real?"
Suddenly, Mr. Leach took his heels from the rail, lowered his chair, shoved back his hat, and stared—hard. Coming across the street toward the hotel, with packages in both hands, was a girl; more correctly, was Sally Crocker. He had thought her several thousand miles away, and for a moment was stunned by sight of her. She wore khaki and leggings, and beneath her Stetson was a smiling, merry face whose dark blue eyes held all the energy of her father.
She mounted the steps to the verandah before seeing the staring Joe Leach. Then, catching sight of him, she halted and the packages escaped from her arms to fall unheeded.
"Joe! You—then you made it!"
Leach rose, swept the packages into a pile with one foot, and reached for her hand.
"Are you real?" he demanded, with such blinking incredibility that she burst into a laugh. "My gosh, Sally! And I was just figuring on writing you a letter—"
Next instant she was in his arms—only to escape with a swift wrench.
"Stop it, Joe! Don't you dare breathe my name—come and sit down. If you want to play post office, take a better time and place—"
Leach accompanied her to the chairs and dropped into one. He was all at sea, and looked it. Sally Crocker surveyed him with twinkling eyes.
"What's the matter? You seem struck by lightning."
"I am," said Leach. "What on earth you doing here? How come you don't love me any more?"
"I do, silly," exclaimed the girl. "But I don't want all Sunrise City to know it, do I? I'm supposed to be a lunger, here for my health, and I'm going out in the hills on that pretext—"
"You look it," said Leach gloomily, regarding her vigorous face and wide-shouldered figure. "Yes, you look like a lunger. Going—where? Alone?"
"Yes. My name's Sally Jones right now, and I'm from Kansas City."
"Does your dad know it?"
"Not much." Her eyes darkened. "Daddy put up a game on me—got me aboard the eastbound limited before I knew it, bound for school. So I hopped off the first stop and came here."
"Gosh!" said Leach in consternation. The girl laughed.
"Williams said the same thing, just the same way." A troubled look came to Leach's face.
"He'll tell your dad you're here, then there'll be hades to pay!"
"He won't tell," asserted the girl confidently. "Ernie Williams knows better."
"Hm!" said Leach, with an inquiring glance. "Got something on him?"
She nodded brightly. "Several things. By the way, did Dad tell you what the job here was—did he go into details?"
"Nope." Leach shook his head. "Said Williams would inform me. What are you grinning about? Is it so tough as all that?"
"Worse." Her amused look vanished, and her blue eyes rested on him seriously. "It's a bad mess, Joe. I didn't know it was so bad when we framed things up. I've learned more since then. I'm mighty sorry now that you've taken it on, but maybe we can pull it off together."
"Well, just what is it?" She rose.
"Williams can tell you that, but don't be seen talking with him. If these natives suspect you're on Dad's business, they'll act up. They're bad, too!" Leach grunted. "Where you going?"
"To work. In a couple of hours. I'm off. We'll meet soon enough—mustn't be seen talking any more together. So long!"
"So long, then—and next time we meet, you'd better be more friendly!"
"Wait and see," she flung back laughingly and was gone.
LEACH resumed his easy posture, and collected himself. He was
amazed, to put it mildly, by this meeting; yet he might have
expected something of the sort. Sally-Crocker never did what she
was supposed to do, was always loaded with dynamite, and life in
her company was never dull. However, this business was a bit too
strong.
In it was more than dynamite—the situation was full of T.N.T. and then some, thought Leach uneasily. When Crocker found his daughter was parading around these hills in khaki, he would raise Cain; and if anybody else discovered it first, trouble would ensue. For some reason the old cattleman was not loved in these parts.
Tiring of his unrewarded vigil, Leach ambled inside and engaged the one-eyed proprietor in conversation. The native was curious, very curious, and Leach satisfied his curiosity in a wide-eyed and innocent fashion, with a string of alleged facts which would have made Sally Crocker stare her hardest. Most people believed Joe Leach—he had an engaging, ingenuous air which marked him as a simple-hearted young man with no intent to deceive. He was not so harmless as he looked, however, having rubbed up against the world long enough to get the corners smoothed off.
His account of himself, therefore, was circumstantial and plausible, well calculated to banish any local suspicion. The proprietor wanned to his guest and took him to a room. Finding that this young puncher had come up from Utah, from a valley removed from the world and much like Indian Valley itself, and was seeking a homestead place, he volunteered a word or two of advice.
"Don't you be in no hurry to find you a place, Leach. They's lots of good land here, but you'd better get acquainted first and take up a quarter-section later on."
Leach nodded, fully comprehending the warning to let himself be sized up by the natives.
"Is any gun-toting barred here?" he asked. "I've chased this here Williams a long ways, and if he pulls on me I don't aim to let him shoot first."
"Go as far as you like," said the one-eyed gentleman, cordially. "There won't be no mourning if you shoot this here coyote, or the man he's working for, either! So long."
Leach grinned to himself. Cheerful prospects for anyone employed by Tom Crocker!
A LITTLE later, washed and fresh-shaved, with Sally in mind,
Joe Leach stood near the cigar counter in the dingy lobby and
smoked thoughtfully. He was not blind to the remarkable
assemblage of gentlemen who now thronged in and about the hotel;
one would have imagined a loafer's convention in progress, and
the spittoons were liberally patronized. Most of Sunrise City
seemed to be hanging around and waiting for something to
happen.
There was a stir outside. A car drove up and halted. From the car alighted a rangy man with a harsh hatchet-face—Leach knew this was Williams from the comments of those around. Williams looked at the crowd, narrow-eyed, as though expecting trouble, then made his way up the steps and to the desk.
"Got any mail for me?" he snapped to the proprietor.
"No," snapped the latter with equal acerbity.
Leach quietly drew his unloaded pistol and touched Williams on the arm. Williams whirled, to look into the weapon.
"Put 'em up," said Leach, loudly. "Up, durn you! I got you now, and I aim to settle up with you. You and that no-account Tom Crocker done me out of fifty dollars, and you're going to pay or suffer! Now turn around and lead the way to your room. No talk, you lowdown skunk! You let out one peep and I'll sure as hell perforate you. Lead the way!"
Without a word, Williams turned, his hands in the air, and started for his room.
LEACH turned with a triumphant wink to the crowd, but he saw at once that they were not a bit pleased. They had anticipated a rumpus, and felt cheated. Then he was following Ernie Williams up the stairs.
"Your name Leach?" demanded Williams, low-voiced, over his shoulder. "Uh-huh."
"The Old Man wrote me you'd show up—"
"Well, we got to stage a battle royal," said Leach promptly, relieved that the other had understood this amazing reception. "That bunch downstairs are trailing along. Get up to your room and wreck it—hustle!"
Williams quickened his pace. In a loud voice, he began to accuse Leach by name.
"Dog-gone you, needn't think you can get away with this robbery!" he rolled out thunderously. "I'll have the law on you for this—"
"Shut up!" bellowed Leach. "For two cents I'd put up this gun and do to you what I'd like to do to Crocker, the varmint. You and him are both skunks."
"And you're too durned brash," snapped Williams. They were in the upper corridor by this time. Glancing down the stairway, Leach saw that the crowd was indeed trailing.
"Let her go," he said softly.
Williams, in full sight of those below, struck at him. Leach grappled. The two men clinched, smashed against the banisters, rolled back against the door of Williams' room and smashed it in. They knocked over tables, chairs, charged back and forth, staged a spectacular battle, while about the doorway crowded the natives with whoops of delight. At length Williams went down, and a moment later Leach bestrode the recumbent figure and flourished his fists.
"I got him!" he panted to those at the entrance. "Shut the door, folks, and leave him to me—I'll do the rest."
"Lemme up!" bleated Williams. "I'll pay, durn you!"
Satisfied, the crowd ebbed. The door was slammed shut. The two men rose, grinning at each other, and replaced the overturned chairs.
"Better tie a bandage around your head when you go down to dinner," exclaimed Leach. "I reckon I'll need all the prestige I can scrape up before I get through."
"You sure will," said Williams grimly. He sat down and produced the makings. "Crocker said you were a wild one, and he was right. You know what this job is?"
"No."
"It ain't a job—it's an impossibility," said the other, grimly. On the wall hung a map of Sunrise County, containing Indian Valley and overlapping it in wild ranges of hills. To this Williams jerked his thumb.
"There y'are—you can have it. Put your eye on the Bar G Bar range, in the north end." Obeying Williams' mandate, Leach there saw a compact rectangle comprising two valleys that came together at a small lake. "That there property come on the market a while back," pursued Williams, "and Crocker done bought her in. That is, he done bought most of it in. The old settler who had owned that and a lot more property, had incorporated it to save paying inheritance taxes. After he died, most of it went to his heirs in Denver, so Crocker come to buy it. There was a little block of shares, about ten per cent, went to an old maid relative. She wouldn't sell, and she's on the place now. It was her fought Crocker in the courts."
Leach rolled a smoke and listened, without comment. A dark frown on his harsh features, Williams went on with his story.
"The orders to me were simple enough. The ranch is badly disorganized; I was to take hold and get her in shape. The old lady there has no money and has let the place go to rack and ruin. I was to put in a crew of men and build it up; I've got ten thousand in cash, for payroll money and other expenses. Crocker didn't want to run out the old dame—he says to give her the house for life—but gosh! She's hell on wheels, feller! She done took a shotgun to me first time I was there, and warned me off'n the place. The whole durned county is behind her and against anybody representing Crocker, and believe me, this here county don't hesitate to fire a gun or two! I'm getting out while I got a whole hide."
Leach could see that Williams might be a good man in his way, but was hardly the right man to handle any such negotiations.
"The funny part of it is," said Williams, with a hard laugh, "the old hag has neighbors—see 'em there on the map? The Bull's-Eye—dot in a circle. Two young devils run it—the Ball boys, usually called Red Ball and Black Ball. They're bad, feller! Especially the black one. They're rustling the Bar G Bar cattle right and left, so naturally it's to their interest to help keep Crocker out until they finish looting the place. They're the ones leading all the trouble."
"Been trouble, has there?" queried Leach.
"Nothing but," affirmed Williams gloomily. "If Tom Crocker'd let me do what I want, I guarantee I'd have this district gentled in no time! I'd like to run in a crowd of real punchers and give these devils of natives all the cussedness they want—but, no, sir. The Old Man won't hear to it. Do it gentle, he says—gentle! Age has weakened him, I guess."
"These here Ball boys are well located," observed Leach, eyeing the map. "I see the Bull's-Eye lies half around the Bar G Bar. What are those fellers like?"
"Bad," said Williams with emphasis. "Red ain't so ornery, but Black Ball—honest, that gent will be hung some of these days! He's got a hard crowd riding for him, too. I done had a run-in or two with 'em, and it's got to where bullets come next. Tom Crocker won't back up that play, so I'm quitting. Either he's got to change his tactics, or else wait for the old hag to die off. I s'pose you ain't going to fight 'em?"
"I got the same orders you had," and Leach grinned. "No, you're right in supposing I'm not the fool I look. I don't know what I will do, for a fact, except brace the old lady."
"She'll send you packing, quick enough, and telephone the Ball boys to mob you. Well, you want me to turn over the ten thousand cash, and my letter of authority, huh? I got the money on me—couldn't trust the bank here. All these natives work in together."
Thought Leach to himself, Tom Crocker! made one big mistake when he sent this type of man on such an errand. He said nothing, but signed a receipt for the money, which was in big bills, and pocketed it with the letter from Crocker.
"You've got a right good car out there," he said. "Is it yours or Crocker's?"
"His," said Williams.
"Then hand it over. You can take my flivver to go home in, with my compliments to Tom Crocker—she runs well enough, if you ain't particular. We'll make it look like I forced the car out of you on the settlement; meet me after dinner. When you leaving?"
"Soon's I eat."
"All right. My flivver's full of gas and oiled up for fifty miles or so. What's Crocker going to say when you tell him Sally's here?"
"Seen her, huh?" Williams gave him 3 sharp look. "I ain't going to tell him. I got some sense left."
"All right. You think she is safe here?"
"I reckon so—it's mighty safe for women here, if nobody learns their name."
"See you after dinner, then. Don't forget to tie up your head like you're hurt."
Leach departed.
DOWNSTAIRS, he had to run a gauntlet of queries before
reaching the dining room. He assured all and sundry he had
effected a satisfactory settlement with Crocker's agent, and
intimated that the gentleman was leaving town in a hurry with a
damaged anatomy. Then he went in to dinner. Sally Crocker was
alone at a table, and beyond a furtive grin. Leach left her
strictly alone.
Now that he knew the situation, he could see its difficulties—could see, too, why the harshly vigorous Williams had fallen down hard. He gained further insight from talking with the men at his table; their tongues had been loosened by word of what Leach was about, and they voiced the general opinion of the valley. Crocker's hired man was trying to turn a poor old woman out of her home, and the county would not stand for it. If Crocker sent another man to take the place of Williams, he'd probably meet hot lead or hot tar. Old Miss Billings had got to be left in peace, or Sunrise would know why!
PONDERING these things, Joe Leach sauntered across the street,
after dinner, and down to the first and only National Bank of
Sunrise. He found a sleepy cashier in charge, and shoved his wad
of bills across the counter.
"Deposit on checking account. Name, Joe Leach."
The cashier nearly had heart failure, to judge from his appearance.
"Hey! We got to have references—"
"So do I, which is why I have them," said Leach cheerfully, and gave two excellent if distant references. "I may settle down hereabouts, if the place likes me as much as I like it, savvy? Anyhow, the cash is safer with you than with me, partner, so I'll swap it for a check book."
While Leach was filling out his card and giving his signature, the local banker came in. He had been at the hotel, and shook hands impressively with his new depositor.
"Do you know where I might land a job?" said Leach. "I ain't particular about wages, but want to get acquainted in the valley. I know a lot about cows and such."
The banker grinned. "If you're not particular about wages, why not go and see Miss Billings, over at the Bar G Bar? Go tell her about you and Williams."
Leach looked astonished. "Huh! Tell her? Why in time would I tell her that?"
"Because Williams has been trying to turn her out of house and home. She ain't got much cash, but she's got a ranch that needs attention."
"And I got some money," said Leach thoughtfully. "Would you mind giving me a note to her? I don't much like the notion of asking for a job because I beat up a feller—"
"Sure, sure," agreed the banker heartily. As he owned a large share of the valley and was related to fully two-thirds of the intermarried inhabitants thereof, his signature would be highly valuable. "And if you want any advice from time to time, drop in and let me know. I'll be right glad to oblige, Leach!"
LEACH went back to the hotel, the letter in his pocket. He was
just in time to meet Williams, emerging with a grip, a bandage
about one ear, and a crowd of loafers hurling various remarks.
Leach hailed him.
"Hey! Gimme the bill of sale for that there car, and we'll let a couple of these gents witness it. Folks, Mr. Williams has swapped cars with me. He says he ain't got no use for a high-powered car; what he wants is a nice little tin lizzie. So I'm obliging him."
One glance from the excellent car of Williams to the rattletrap of Leach was enough to raise a guffaw. Williams turned red, but played his part despite anger. He wrote out a supposed bill of sale, Leach had it witnessed by two bystanders, then turned over the flivver to him with many flourishes. After some instruction, Williams meshed his gears and drove away.
With a grin at thought of what Crocker would say. Leach inspected his new car—a medium-priced, high-powered machine. The crowd helped him inspect it, and from their comments, Joe Leach knew he had gone a long way toward getting into the good graces of Indian Valley in general, and Sunrise City in particular.
While he was still looking over his car, he saw Sally Crocker come out of the hotel and cross the street, a grip in her hand. She climbed into a buck-board waiting there, being helped up by a man with whom she shared the seat. Next minute she was driven away, while Joe Leach blinked after her—stupefied. The worst of it was, he dared not even ask about her, or whither she had gone!
EARLY next morning Joe Leach was off and away in his new car, armed with Williams' map of the county and general optimism. He had only vague notions of any plan of campaign, preferring to let this hang on conditions and circumstances. The tremendously bitter antagonism which Williams had stirred up in the county seemed to make his task a hopeless one, but Leach faced ahead with cheerful faith in destiny and stepped on the gas. The Bar G Bar lay eleven miles from town, according to the map, but when Leach's speedometer showed thirteen, there was still no sign of the ranch. The road was rough, and wound in hilly, well-wooded ground. A saw-mill would do well in these parts, reflected Leach.
He came down into a glade, crossed a wooden bridge, turned sharply—and put on all his brakes in a hurry. Directly ahead of him, three horses were in the road, their riders talking and laughing over some joke. One glance showed Leach they were punchers—not dressed for the part, since their clothes were rough woodsgear—but one judges not so much by clothes as by equipment. And punching cattle in these hills probably included a lot of work in wooded country.
To the astonishment of Leach, the three men separated and whipped out pistols.
"Put 'em up!" yelled one, bringing his horse up to the car. Then a ludicrous expression of bewilderment swept over his face. "Look out, boys—don't shoot! He ain't our man!"
"Put 'em up!" yelled one.
"Thanks." Leach climbed out and reached for the makings. He surveyed the three with a grin, and caught answering amusement in the face of the one who was red-haired and blue-eyed. Another, also blue-eyed, was very black of hair, insolent and domineering of face, high-boned and obviously given to passion. In these two. Leach knew at once with whom he dealt. No other pair could be just like them, even had not the horse-brands shown him.
"I ain't anybody's man, for that matter," he added whimsically. "Maybe I will be, a little later, if I have any luck getting a job. I see you boys are from the Bull's-Eye. Maybe you can direct me to the Bar G Bar? According to the map, it ain't far from your outfit."
The black-visaged one inspected Leach scowlingly, narrow-eyed.
"I ain't a sheriff, if that's what you're scared of," and Leach chuckled. "I won't tell. If you boys are working holdups right along, it's all right with me—"
"I'm Hank Ball, this is my brother Red, and Perkins, a rider," snapped Black Ball, taking the hint thus administered. "We ain't holdups—we thought you were somebody else. Who are ye?"
"Me?" said Leach, licking his cigarette and looking up wide-eyed. "I'm a poor lonely puncher, that's what I am. Mister Ball. I was raised by poor but proud parents, and all they left me was good manners—sometimes. Not always."
The face of Black Ball flushed and darkened with rage. Then Red Ball urged his horse up, and intervened with a laugh.
"Never mind him, feller—he's always Hike that with everybody! Let's have no fuss."
"Suits me," said Leach, with a nod. He rather liked Red Ball. The face was vigorous, even passionate, but held a whimsical good-humor. "Name's Leach—I'm new in these parts. Came up here on the trail of a mean hombre, found him, and may stick around. That banker in town gave me a letter to Miss Billings."
This news produced an instant impression.
"What about this car?" said Red Ball. "That's howcome Black got his dander up—it's the only one of this make ever was in the valley."
"Oh, that!" Leach grinned. "I done took it away from the hombre I spoke of. He give me a bill of sale, right enough. I reckon you'll hear about it in town, if you're going there."
"You mean Williams?" snapped Black Ball.
"Uh-huh. Friend of yours?"
Black Ball stated profanely that Williams was nobody's friend, in which Leach cheerfully agreed. Despite their questions, he evaded any account of his business with Williams, and this angered Black Ball anew. He shoved his brother aside and glared at Leach.
"You're too brash, stranger," he snapped. "I don't like you a bit."
"I'm right sorry, but I got no mourning to waste over it," said Leach amiably. "I don't like you even a little bit, so we're even. Red, for gosh sake drag him off before he starts a fuss! All I want is peace."
This appeal over his head infuriated Black Ball the more, but his brother, with a grin, jerked him aside and conferred, quieting his wrath, and flinging Leach a wink as though to imply Black Ball was not so bad if you took him right. Meantime, Perkins sat his horse and stared, and stared, and Leach glanced him over.
He did not like Perkins—liked nothing about him from his dingy Stetson to the Winchester booted at his stirrup. The man's thin lips suggested craftiness and cruelty—the sort of man, thought Leach, who would rowel his horse's mouth with a barbed-wire bit.
Abruptly, without a word or gesture, Black Ball separated from his brother and started for town. Perkins followed. Red Ball eased his horse over to the car, and his eves twinkled down at Leach.
"Quarter mile ahead is a turnout—don't take it," he said. "Half a mile beyond is the one for the Bar G Bar. For a foreigner, you ain't so bad—good luck to you! That is, if Williams didn't give you a job here."
Leach chuckled. "You can ask in town what Williams gave me—and what I gave him," he rejoined. "I aim to get me a job at the Bar G Bar, if I can—that's all."
"Luck," said Red Ball, and was gone with a wave of the hand.
LEACH drove on, thoughtfully. This meeting had shown him that
trouble lay ahead, beyond any shadow of doubt—trouble with
this Black Ball. From the first look, instinctive enmity lay
between them. On the contrary, Leach sensed friendliness in the
manner of the red brother—rather, a warmth lacking in the
other. The rider Perkins was a bad egg, and a most remarkably bad
one.
"If Williams told the truth," reflected Leach, "I'm going to be up against brother Perk and Black Ball. If anybody's doing any rustling, Perk is in on it. However, we'll see! No use worrying about the future, as the old feller said when they hung him."
He drove on, whistling. The road wound out of the hills by the time he reached the first turn, beside which was a sign bearing the Bull's-Eye brand burned into the wood. Then it went into a wide valley floor, with little timber in sight, and the second turnout was a broad track, wheel-marked. A little rise, and Leach found himself with a view of half the Bar G Bar ranch. He halted the car, surveying the scene.
Ahead of him, nestled beside a hill, was a tiny lake, and beside the lake a ranch house and other buildings. Timber was plentiful in spots, and so were cows; the terrain seemed more like a bit of Illinois or Ohio landscape than an almost unknown corner of New Mexico. No wonder the "natives" had kept out everybody with a view to retaining this fragment of wonderland themselves!
Thirty seconds later, as Leach was rolling down the little declivity, a bullet droned by within a foot of his shoulders and plunked through the cushions of the car.
The sharp crack of a rifle came from a clump of brush on the right.
Acting half by instinct, half by necessity, Leach jammed on his brakes and then slumped forward, leaning over the wheel and holding the clutch out with his foot. The car came to a halt, purring quietly. Leach, apparently motionless, slid his hand to his pocket and gripped the pistol there, and waited.
The morning sunlight beat down. An inquisitive steer stood and stared solemnly at the halted car. After a moment the brush moved, and a man slowly appeared, cautiously peering at the car as he camel forward. He was a bent little man, walking painfully, holding his rifle ready; unkempt gray whiskers streaked his face. Foot by foot he came hobbling to the road.
"By gum!" he said to himself. "I didn't mean to more'n scare him, and I done hit the skunk! Well, it don't matter much—"
"It matters a whole lot to me," said Leach, whipping up his pistol. "Drop that gun!"
Startled, taken unawares, the little old man obeyed the order and then stood, staring, his mouth wide open. Leach understood the well-nigh fatal error, and chuckled at the look of unmixed bewilderment on the whiskered face.
"Partner, you sort of got your rope dragging, ain't you?" he demanded. "Took me for that cuss Williams, huh?"
"I sure did," said the other. "Howcome you ain't him? This here is his car, ain't it?"
"Sure is, but I ain't him. Who are you?"
"Cook, up to the house, foreman of the ranch, and all the riders there is left. Jim Tolliver is me."
"Oh, I see! My name's Leach. You thought you'd be doing Miss Billings a good turn, huh? Well, get your gun and climb in. Is she up to the house?"
"Yep. You a friend of Williams?"
"Not me," said Leach. "I beat him up and shooed him out of town yesterday. I got a letter here for Miss Billings."
Tolliver picked up his rifle and climbed into the car, and let out a grunt when Leach started the machine.
"First time I was ever in one of these here things," he said. "I done held one up, once, over in Carson's gap."
"Held one up?" queried Leach. He was amused by the little old chap. "How come?"
"Well, sir, I was a bad actor in my time, sure was!" returned the other boastfully. "I done held up a couple o' prairie schooners in the old days, and I was in the Jimson gang that held up two mail trains in Montana. And never caught—not me! I'm too slick fer 'em. Well, I was drunk up to Carson's gap once, and done held up an automobile just to show the boys how it was done. Then I come down here and I got crippled up riding, and been here ever since. All I want before I pass out is to bold up one of them airyplanes."
Leach grinned. "An airplane, huh? What for?"
"Jest to do it. I don't hanker for nothin' else but that, and I'll die happy. I done held up ever'thing else in my time, and I want to make a good job of it."
"Well, you'd have a job holding up an airplane," and Leach laughed. "Look here, I don't want Miss Billings loosing off a scatter-gun at me—you take this letter and give it to her, savvy? Then I'll come on in."
"Sure," said Tolliver. "And I'm right glad I didn't hit ye, Leach. It gave me a bad turn, it sure fed! To think I hit a feller when I didn't go to do it, would be a sure sign I'm gettin' old and losing my grip."
Leach chuckled.
Ahead of them now loomed the house, and on closer approach it was evident that the whole place was in a run-down condition. The corral, off to one side, was a ruin. The barn and bunkhouse and house itself were unpainted, but the house looked neat as a pin. Halting the car a hundred feet from the verandah, Leach handed the banker's letter to Tolliver, who took it and climbed out, then winked.
"I'll leave this, gun set in the car—the bid lady didn't know what I was up to," he said, and hobbled away.
A QUEER little old man—a queer business all through,
thought Joe Leach, as he rolled a smoke and awaited results. The
place was poverty-stricken, and if Tolliver was the only
ranch-hand, he certainly could do little range work. When
Tolliver appeared, beckoning, he tossed away his cigarette, left
the car, and came to the verandah steps.
"Come on in," said the little man, then winked and added, low-voiced: "She's got a gun under her skirt, but don't worry. Her bite ain't as bad as her bark."
LEACH followed into a parlor painfully adorned with such objects as he had not seen since childhood—horsehair furniture, a huge chromo showing a cowboy in fullest movie costume and sporting sideburns to boot, and other such antiques. Sitting primly on a sofa and facing him was Miss Billings. At sight of her Leach swallowed hard.
His worst forebodings were realized. She was gray-haired and wore spectacles; behind them her eyes snapped frostily, and her mouth was an uncompromising, thin, down-curved line of red. Her black satin dress looked thirty years old, and probably was, and her bony contours were carried out by large-knuckled hands. She was not frail or feeble by a long shot, and looked fully capable of knocking down a visitor as well as shooting him.
"I read your letter," she snapped, in a hard voice. "What you want with me?"
Leach summoned up all his courage. He knew at a glance this old lady was accustomed to being treated with fear and respect; she was prim, neat as a pin, suspicious. Leach turned and waved his hand at Tolliver, still in the doorway.
"Get out of here, and shut the door!" he said. Then, turning: "I'd like to ask, ma'am, if you're quite comfortable?"
"I am," said Miss Billings, frowning at him. Leach sank into a chair and grinned.
"Then you'll be glad to have me get likewise, ma'am, that being only hospitable. I don't aim to get a thing on your floor, now—a whiff of real puncher tobacco might feel right good to you for a change, while I make my proposition. You see, ma'am, I've been down below, as the natives call the outside country...."
He rattled on, meantime putting his hat in his lap and carefully constructing a cigarette above it, while the old lady looked on with a face of stony astonishment. She seemed too stupefied to speak, but Leach did the talking for two until he touched a match to his cigarette. Then he started in afresh, giving her a sketch of his own life, until finally she laid down the knitting, folded her hands, and broke into his flow of speech.
"I ain't interested in your family history, young man," she said. "And you're the first person has smoked in this room since my brother died."
"Thank you, ma'am," said Leach. "That's a real compliment! Now—"
"Now," intervened the old lady firmly, "you get off your chest what you're here for, and do it quick!"
"I'm here with a proposition to unload," said Leach promptly. "If I do say it, I'm a top cow-hand, ma'am. I got five thousand dollars in the bank at Sunrise. This here ranch is the prettiest and likeliest spot I've seen in a coon's age—and there we are! You say the word, and I'll buy an interest in this place and start building it up. Five thousand will go a long ways besides painting the house!"
He leaned back, dragged at his cigarette, and waited.
Miss Billings stared at him for a long moment. She took off her steel-rimmed specs, looked at them, put them on again, and once more stared at Leach. A tiny color was coming into her face, tokening her inward excitement, and for an instant Leach found himself regretting the deception he was practicing.
"Why—why—I don't hardly know what to say!" exclaimed Miss Billings, her bony fingers twisting and untwisting in her lap. "After what that letter said, you'd ought to be straight—and your face looks straight to me. Goodness knows, the place needs something done to it, and I ain't had the money to spare, what with lawsuits and all—"
She broke off. Evidently, she was afire with the prospect, and as her stony features warmed, Leach suddenly found that she was not nearly so repellent as he had first thought her. At his whimsical smile, her lips twitched a little.
"You ain't a bad sort—I believe you know how to do things!" she exclaimed. "It's the truth this place has gone to rack and ruin, and to have a spry young chap like you to work it, would be a godsend. Still and all—I reckon not. How much do you know about the place?"
"Not much, except a lot of talk I picked up in town," said Leach truthfully. "I picked up right smart of it, too."
"Hm!" She gave him a shrewd look. "I'll bet you did. Maybe you know a man named Tom Crocker, down below, has lawed me out o' this property."
"So I heard, only he don't seem likely to get it in a hurry," and Leach chuckled.
"Well, he's got the law with him, anyhow, so I reckon I can't sell you an interest, And 111 say flat out I ain't got the money; to hire you."
"Money ain't all in this life," observed Leach. "If you were to raise cows, where'd you sell 'em? Here in the valley?"
"If it wasn't for this lawsuit, yes. We've got a fine breed here. But now I can't sell a head—folks will back me up, but they won't pay out money for doubtful property."
"That's only human nature," commented Leach.
"Anyhow, I can't take you up. It wouldn't be fair to you, savvy?" she pursued, with a sigh of regret. "I got a chance to take in a boarder, and that's how; bad off I am, young man. Takin' in boarders! Meantime, Bar G Bar cows are getting lost."
"So I suspicioned, from what I picked up." said Leach.
The old lady's eyes bit out. "Oh, ye did! Some folks around here think I'm a fool female, but I ain't. I bet I know where a lot of my mavericks are going."
"So do I," drawled Leach, "after meeting up with a gent named Perkins. A dog's hind leg would look like a ruler alongside that human corkscrew."
"Hm!" commented the old lady. "Yoit and me see things the same way, young man! I wish to thunder I could sign up with you, but it can't be done."
"It might," said Leach thoughtfully. "My idea would be to pick up a few riders! and go right to work—quick and quiet.
"We'd maybe be lucky enough to catch one or two gents in the act of branding your calves. Anyhow, we'd get the place in shape by summer, which same ain't so far away. As far's you selling me an interest goes—Hm! Might get around that."
"Howcome you're driving Williams' car?" demanded the old lady suddenly.
Leach produced his bill of sale and handed it over.
"We had an argument. He done swapped cars with me to even up."
"And according to that letter, you paid him out pretty good. Well—"
"Look here," said Leach earnestly. "Suppose, ma'am, I was to put in my money and take a one-fourth interest in the place—"
"Let me tell you the situation," interrupted Miss Billings with some animation. "I own ten per cent of this place. My brother had willed me the whole thing, but he died suddenly and his will couldn't be found—never has been found. The ninety percent went to two children by his first wife. They live in Denver. They sold out to Crocker. I fought it, and Crocker beat me. That's the law. As a matter of fact, this here county is right back of me and Crocker or his men can't get a foothold to grab the place, while I live. With you, it's another matter. The folks here wouldn't back up a foreigner."
"All right," came the prompt response from Leach. "I'll chip in my five thousand, for which you'll deed me your ten per cent, share of the place. Then we'll make an agreement to share and share alike in all that the ranch earns, as long as you live. It'll be mighty queer if I can't sell Bar G Bar stock in this valley—branded or unbranded! Then I've got a little more money I can reach, if we need it. In case Crocker gets possession, we'll make him pay for the improvements, anyhow; meantime, you'll be secure as to any income we roll in, and my money will be protected by the ten per cent. How does that suit you?"
The old lady's eyes glistened. "Fine! Only, it ain't right fair to you—"
"Fair enough to me, never worry," said Leach. "If you say the word, I'll drive you to town and we'll let your lawyer: frame up the agreements."
Miss Billings put out her hand. "It's a bargain!" she said. "Young man, I like you. You're square as a die—a body can see that in your eye. We'll go to town right after dinner, for I've done promised my boarder real flapjacks—my land! I forgot the boarder. Set still, now, until I get back. You'll want to live here, of course? The bunkhouse ain't hardly fit—"
"If you can give me a room until we get the bunkhouse fit, then it'll be fine," said Leach. "I'll get your man Tolliver to raise a few riders—he probably knows everyone."
The old lady nodded eagerly and rustled out of the room—leaving behind her a young man who was exceedingly miserable.
LEACH had won the game for his employer, but the victory was
tainted. He bad won it by lies and deceit, to put the thing
badly, and it left an evil taste in his mouth. The more he saw of
grim old Miss Billings, the more he liked her—and the less
he liked himself.
"Still and all, it's not so bad," reflected Leach. "I'll be using Crocker's ten thousand as he wanted it used, to put this place in first class order. This agreement will put the full place in his hands, but it will also bind him to pay the old lady fifty per cent of the profits—no, it's not so bad! She's darned well protected. But I hate to think of the showdown that's bound to come some day. I hate to think of her trusting me, and then finding I've deceived her—whether in her own interest or not."
The sound of steps in the hall brought him out of his gloomy mood. Miss Billings came in, and held open the door.
"This here's my boarder, Mr. Leach—meet Miss Jones. City girl, out here for her health. She ain't bad, though, for a city girl—rides right well, too. I hope you all will get on and be friends."
"I know we will," said Sally Crocker, holding out a hand. "Glad to meet you."
Leach swallowed hard, and became red. Sally Crocker, of all people—here!
"Yes'm," he returned, as he shook hands. "I sure hope we'll be friends—"
"I'm going to see to dinner," said Miss Billings. "Sally, show him around the place, will you? He's going to run the ranch for me. Make yourself to home, Leach—see you later."
She disappeared. Sally Crocker regarded Leach, her eyes dancing.
"How on earth have you managed it?"
"By lies," said Leach gloomily. "Honest to gosh, Sally, I could kick myself! I'm a liar. It makes me sick to think how I'm deceiving that old lady—even if I am binding your dad to make her comfortable for life!"
The girl regarded him critically.
"There are different kinds of lies, Joe," she said slowly. "Man's lies and coward's lies. I don't ever figure you as telling the wrong kind."
Leach flushed. "Me neither, until now. But I'm not so sure—I hate to lie to that old lady. I like her fine, and she trusts me. The only good thing about it is that her interests won't suffer. It's what shell think of me, later, that makes me squirm."
"Maybe she won't think so hardly of you," and the girl smiled suddenly. "So you didn't know I was here? Well, I am. And I'm going to stay. I met a fine young man yesterday, and he's coming over to see me pretty soon. Ball is his name."
Leach started. "Huh? Which one? Black or Red?"
"Black—"
"All right." Leach grinned. "You can have him if you want, after I get through with him. Meantime, Sally Crocker, you're going to marry me, and I reckon we're private enough right here to make up for lost time—"
"I reckon we are," said Sally demurely. "Only, you'd better shut the door—"
Leach shut it.
AS Tolliver had said, the bark of Miss Billings was worse than her bite—but the old lady could bite. Only rheumatism had kept her from maintaining her fences single-handed. She had energy plus, and no lack of fighting spirit. Beneath her forbidding exterior she was shrewd but kindly.
Old Tolliver, the only soul about the place, welcomed the news and instructions given him with a whoop of joy, and voted to accompany them to town, where he said he could pick up at least three riders at once. Sally decided to stay on the ranch. So, dinner over and the dishes washed, Leach got under the wheel of his car and all three set forth.
Once in town and settled with Miss Billings in the office of her lawyer, Leach gave his attention strictly to business. The deed made out which was to make him actual owner of her legal share in the ranch, he was careful to see the ensuing agreement so worded that the old lady would receive for life half the ranch profits; and, since Leach was acting in reality as agent for Crocker, the latter would be bound to respect this agreement. Leach's half share of profits would of course go to Crocker.
This all took time. His check handed over to the lady, Leach took the deed to have it recorded, then sought the hotel. He was to meet Miss Billings at the car in half an hour, after she had done some shopping, and needed this time to write Crocker. He did so, setting forth what had been done and enclosing his copy of the agreement.
"I don't know whether this will suit you," he went on, "and if it doesn't, you can fire me. If it does, you'll owe me the bonus of five thousand promised for reaching a settlement. What will happen when it comes out that I'm your agent, remains to be seen. Miss Billings is a fine old sport, needs every cent she can get, and probably will put most of it back in the ranch anyhow. You can afford to be generous. If you don't think so, then I'd quit work for you. The real trouble on this place hasn't started yet, but starts quick. Make up your mind whether you back my play or not, and let me know."
His letter sent at the post office, Leach returned to the car and there found Miss Billings standing in talk with Red Ball. The old lady turned.
"Leach, this is Red Ball, one of your neighbors. This here is my new range foreman, Red. He's going to try and work up the ranch a bit."
Red shook hands solemnly, a twinkle in his eye.
"Glad to meet you," he said. "I was just askin' Miss Billings if she wanted to send over anybody to represent her—our spring round-up starts in Monday."
"I reckon I'll get over in the course of the week, thanks," said Leach carelessly. "We'll be mighty slow getting started, I guess. There's the buildings to paint and hands to hire and fences to build and so forth. You won't mind looking out for Miss Billings' interest if we don't get over right off?"
"Sure not!" said Red Ball cordially. He shoved back his hat and laughed. "Black handles most of the details, and Perk—our foreman. They don't let me run things, much."
Leach caught a hint of irritation here.
"Well," he drawled, "I don't mind saying, Red, that Black and me will sure tangle one of these days. We strike each other just that-a-way. Now, I don't want to come into this county and start fighting. I don't want a fuss, as much for Miss Billings' sake as my own. So I won't come over to your round-up at all, I guess. I'll send old Tolliver over, maybe. The longer me and Black can keep apart, the better all around."
Red Ball grinned. "Feller, you're all right!" he said. "So far as Black goes, you and him can go to the mat any time, and I hope you lick the tar out of him. After what you done to that gent Williams, maybe you can stand up to Black. I'll say he feels the same way towards you, so it's all square. Well, luck to you! So long, Aunt Hennie."
Miss Billings, it seemed, was known as "Aunt Hennie" to a large part of the valley's population.
Leach helped stow her purchases in the car, and Tolliver showed up a few minutes later. The old crippled puncher was jubilant.
"I got three fellers showin' up in the morning," he announced mysteriously. "And not a word hinted around, neither!"
"Who are they?" demanded Miss Billings suspiciously.
"Ollie Poe and the two Smith boys. Suit ye?"
"Hm! I reckon they'll do," she said grudgingly. "If Ollie Poe can leave licker alone he may be all right, and the Smith boys are good hands. They'll do to start with. I got a load of paint coming out tomorrow. Leach can stop at Saunder's place on the way home, and we'll get him and his two boys over to do the painting. I judged you all would have your hands full for a spell with fences, cows, branding, hosses and rustlers."
"I reckon so," assented Leach. "First thing is to get your corral patched up so's it'll hold a couple of head of stock. Got any hosses?"
"Two broke to harness, and the rest are running wild, what's left. We got a lot of old posts and lumber in the barn, so the corral won't amount to much as a job."
WITH Tolliver perched in back, on top of the small mountain of
parcels, Leach drove out of town and started up the valley. Then
he asked the question on his mind.
"What about these three new hands of ours, ma'am? If what we suspect is so, can we depend on 'em to buck up against the Bull's-Eye outfit?"
"Shucks! That outfit ain't loved much," and the old lady sniffed. "Them boys ain't liable to scare, if that's what you mean. You're a foreigner and they'll shy at you for a while, but since they'll be working for me, they'll be all right. How do you like my boarder?"
"She's a peach," said Leach with enthusiasm.
"Well, mind your step," admonished Miss Billings severely. "She's a right nice girl and I'm going to watch out for her—poor motherless thing. I don't want no lovesick punchers mooning around, neither. So don't you get too durned ambitious all to once, young man."
Leach chuckled. To himself, he wondered what Miss Billings would say did she know the truth!
En route home, they stopped at a small ranch where Saunders and his sons were engaged for the painting job. Then home, late in the afternoon, where Sally Crocker welcomed them beamingly.
"Supper's about ready," she declared, "and if you'll look at that corral, Mr. Leach, you may observe some changes. I didn't set any new posts, but I've got half of it repaired so she'll hold a. small remuda if you don't act too rough."
"Bully for you!" said Leach. "If you'll come along and show me that corral—"
"Do your own looking," and she laughed. "I'm busy with supper."
Inspecting the corral, Tolliver scratched his head. "By gum," he observed, "that there gal is all right! I wouldn't mind marry in' her, if she can cook!"
Leach chuckled anew.
WITH daylight, Leach was at work on the corral, and his three
riders blew in by breakfast time, with a horse each. The two
Smith boys were capable, silent men; Ollie foe was a sawed-off
little chap, with a gallegher rimming his face and bright,
twinkling eyes. Leach kept Poe to help him finish the corral and
sent the other two out to round up two or three of the half-wild
cayuses. He instructed them to keep well to the west and not to
show themselves on the other side of the range—whereat they
grinned and departed.
Poe said almost nothing until the morning was half gone. Then, as he and Leach rested after setting the last post, he regarded the foreman shrewdly.
"I see you got a saddle and outfit laid ready. Figger on breakin' a hoss to-day?"
"I figure on using one," said Leach. "You and the other boys too."
"East or west?"
Leach met his shrewd gaze, and grinned. "Well, I reckon we might scatter along the east side of the range and sort of see how the fence lays between us and the Bull's-Eye. Object?"
Poe bit at a plug of tobacco. "I don't object to nothin'," he said. "I got a gun in my roll, too."
"Then let's get finished here and put the bunkhouse in shape before dinner," said Leach.
The Smith boys came in with four ponies before noon and pitched in to the work, so that dinner saw alt hands ready for the afternoon. No class distinctions obtained at the Bar G Bar. Miss Billings presided over the dining table, Sally sat at the other end, and, on a side, the foreman and riders filled up the intervening space.
"Corral looks pretty good," observed Miss Billings. "What you planning this afternoon?"
"Why," said Leach, with a negligent air, "first thing is to see how the fence stands and get some wire from town. The four of us will sort of look over die east line and up above the east valley to-day. I want to get the lay of the land in my head, too."
The old lady regarded him over her spectacles. Then Sally broke in.
"I'll go with you, if I may—"
"Nope," said Leach. "Not to-day, I guess. If you want to help, I'd like to get a report on the west line fence up to the hills."
Sally nodded. Miss Billings, however, caught the look that Ollie Poe shot at the Smith boys, and her eyes twinkled.
"I got two Winchesters," she announced. "Coyotes been pretty bad up in them hills, Leach. You and Ollie might take along a gun each and shoot one or two."
"We might," said Leach soberly. "That's a right good notion, ma'am."
DINNER over, Leach wasted no time gentling a wild cayuse, but saddled one of the harness broke nags and set forth with his three men. Once away from the house, he halted them.
"Boys, you all know the ground here and I don't, so Poe had better slay with me. You other two can circle around and join us later. I'm open to suggestions."
The two Smiths looked at each other, then one spoke.
"Depends on what you're lookin' for."
"Trouble," said Leach. "If you want it straight, with the Bull's-Eye. Miss Billings thinks somebody has been rustling around here, and I think it was Perkins and Black Ball, if anyone. They know I've started here. They might figure on getting to work quick, branding all the calves they can find and maybe shooting the mothers, so there'd be no suspicion at their round-up next week. Or they might be up to anything. I'd like to scout around and see."
"In that case," said one Smith, "me and Eddie can circulate around the upper end of the east valley and work back. Poe can bring you along the same way to meet us. S'pose we find anybody at work?"
"Take Poe's rifle. Shoot first and ask questions afterward if anybody's using a branding iron on Bar G Bar land."
"Suits me."
The two Smiths went their way.
Poe followed with Leach, but leisurely, and after a time struck from the open into the brush until they gained the hill beside the lake. From here, Poe pointed out the two valleys coming in V-shaped fashion to the lake, with the rough hilly stretch between. That to the east rose gently in rolling uplands, studded with brush, rolling on and on for miles.
"On that mesa yonder is the fence-line, somewheres," declared Poe, then indicated the rougher territory between the two valleys. "The Smith boys have gone up yonder—if anyone's rampagin' around there, they'll flush 'em. You and me might separate and make up the east valley, and meet yonder by the big patch of scrub-oak—see it?"
Leach nodded, got his bearing, and urged his horse away.
He had no definite expectations, but knew if he could come upon any crooked work and strike a sharp, sudden blow, it would be huge gain. Who hits first hits hardest, sometimes. He could only figure on what he himself would do were he in the shoes of Perkins—and really rustling Bar G Bar cattle. The logical thing to do would be to grab all the mavericks in sight and do it without a moment's delay, then sit tight and see what happened.
FOR a long while he rode along without incident. At length he
located the fence line, now nothing but bare posts, and some of
these down completely. Leach eyed the dotted line grimly and was
not astonished at the complete disappearance of the wire. It
would be found, probably, neatly rolled and stored away in some
Bull's-Eye shed.
He circled out into Bull's-Eye territory and came around back to the fence line again, following this. He could make out no sign of Poe. From the looks of the cattle he encountered, his own stock must be well worth rustling, but the two herds apparently drifted in company along this part of the range.
Leach pulled up suddenly at the clear, sharp report of a rifle-shot.
Somewhere on his right—his horse's pricked-up ears directed him to a heavy thicket of brush. He searched in vain for any sign of a fire, and anger rose in him hotly. He had scarcely believed in his own conjectures—only the cruel lines of Perkins' face had caused them. Were they indeed shooting the mothers and driving along the mavericks and calves, to be branded at the coming round-up? That would be the safest game to play, of a surety, but it was even more despicable than a mere theft of calves. Destruction added to robbery.
Another shot. Leach headed for the thicket, a large patch where the bodies of cattle might well lie undiscovered. Farther along he saw a buzzard circling, and another, lifting as though disturbed from work. Poe had probably flushed these—other bodies lay there.
Leach headed for the thicket, where the
bodies of cattle might well lie undiscovered.
It looked like a clear enough case. Whoever was in that thicket was too busy to keep watch, and Leach loaded his pistol as he approached. Then, slipping from his saddle, he left his horse with reins hanging and worked his way into the tangle, pistol in hand. After a bit he heard a shout, and was guided by it.
"Any more?" called a voice, and the response came at once.
"Nope. Done wasted a lot o' time in this chaparral."
"Drive them calves out, then, and I'll work off towards Black Ball."
Leach hastened along, cursing the undergrowth—then came abruptly out into an open space. Whether he or the prior occupants were the more surprised was uncertain.
Two men were here—Perkins and another, ponies to one side, a pair of frightened calves shoving off into the brush. To the right lay two dead cows.
Both rustlers, belonging to the Bull's-Eye as they did, were too utterly astonished by sight of the intruder to move or speak—too uncertain what his presence meant. Perkins was in the act of mounting; he remained with one hand on the pommel, staring over his shoulder at Leach. The other man was on the far side of his horse, about to replace his rifle in its boot. He, too, stood staring.
When it came to shooting first, Leach hung fire. Undoubtedly the proper thing to do, such ice was hard to break. To shoot down a fellow-man is no light task.
"Well, you boys seem to be having a good time," he observed lamely.
"What's it to you?" snapped Perkins.
"Depends on whether those cows over there are yours or mine." Leach shifted gaze, at a movement from the puncher. "Careful, you! Drop that rifle—
"You vamose, and do it quick," commanded Perkins.
"You two gents put 'em up," said Leach, his pistol lifting. "Way up, boys! You with the Winchester, drop her—"
Perkins promptly obeyed, but not so the Bull's-Eye puncher. His rifle whipped from sight, and so did he, behind the shelter of his horse. Leach fired promptly—sent two bullets tearing through the poor beast. The pony screamed shrilly and reared, while the puncher quietly toppled over, and the two fell side by side.
The pony screamed shrilly and reared,
while the puncher quietly toppled over.
From Perkins burst an oath of fury, and his hands went down. Leach swung on him, and fired. Perkins jerked backward, fell, and then sat up, clutching his right leg.
"Quit it!" Perkins cried sharply. "You don't need to murder me!"
"Wouldn't be much loss if I did," said Leach. "Get yourself tied up. Where's Black Ball working? Which direction?"
"Up the fence line a ways." Perkins swore heartily as he felt his leg. "Durn you, how d'you expect I'm going to ride with a bullet through my leg?"
"That ain't my funeral," said Leach.
White-faced, he advanced to the feebly kicking horse and put the poor brute out of its misery. A glance at the puncher was enough—those two bullets had gone through horse and man alike. Leach grimly crossed to the dead cows, saw their brand, and nodded.
"You double-danged outfit of thieves!" he exclaimed savagely at the Bull's-Eye foreman, now at work over his stripped and bleeding leg. "Now see what you've gone and done, for the sake of stealing some blamed calves!"
"You'd ought to be real pleased with yourself," said Perkins glumly. "What you've done seems to be a plenty. Bone ain't broke—that's lucky. Bullet clear through—"
"Black Ball does the branding, I suppose?"
Perkins flung a scowl at mm. "Branding what?"
"Forget it," said Leach in disgust. "You're caught with the goods, feller. Want to go, do you? Then get yourself bandaged."
Perkins obeyed. "I said this was a fool play," he grumbled. "Black had to be a durned hog, and I knew it'd make trouble. But you'll pay for this killing, I can tell you—"
He fell silent, cursed the quirt attached to his wrist as it got in his way, and then finished his temporary bandage. He squinted up at Leach.
"How d'you reckon I'll get into the saddle, huh?"
"I'll give you a hand up."
Perkins made an attempt to rise. Leach went after his horse, which had jumped to a little distance, and brought the animal back, then helped Perkins rise on his good leg. The foreman was anxious to be gone, and showed it. With many curses he expended every energy to get into the saddle, and finally managed it by aid of Leach.
"Now, if you'll gimme them reins," he said, white-lipped with pain, "I'll be on my way."
"Why, sure!" Leach grinned. "But I didn't say anything about you being on your way, did I? You'll go my way. You don't want any reins. You just sit tight and hang on. Maybe you figured on riding home, but you got another guess coming."
"Huh?" demanded Perkins. "You'd make a wounded man—"
"Shut up," snapped Leach with sudden anger.
He picked up the hanging reins and led the cayuse from the opening. He knew exactly on what Perkins was figuring. Those pistol shots, entirely different from the clean, sharp cracks of a rifle, would certainly have been heard by Black Ball, and the latter was probably now on his way to investigate their cause.
Forcing a way through the brush, Leach was in sight of the open when a branch slapped the horse, which reared back. Leach turned—and without warning Perkins, slashed down with his quirt. Struck full across the face, Leach staggered back. Next instant, horse and man were plunging off headlong. A pistol cracked, and again, the bullets flying close.
Leach jerked out his own weapon, then paused, and stood feeling the red weal across his face. He shook his head and replaced the pistol.
"No, I reckon I've done enough—and I couldn't hit him anyhow," he muttered. "Don't want any more killings right now—"
PERKINS had quite vanished from sight by the time Leach
regained his own mount. He climbed into the saddle and sat
inspecting the country. No one was in sight—there was no
sign of Black Ball or other riders. Rolling a smoke, Leach sent
his horse forward, and presently discerned a horse and rider
approaching at a gallop. He recognized Poe, and drew rein.
"That you shootin' over this way?" called Poe, as he approached.
Leach nodded. Pointing back to the big clump of brush, he explained what had taken place. Poe, it proved, had seen nobody, but had made out the faint smoke of a fire off to the right, and had been heading for this when he heard the shots.
"Black Ball is doing some branding there," said Leach. "Hm! You go and look over this place, Poe, then ride home and telephone the sheriff. Get him out here right away, before Perkins can bring any men back to remove the evidence."
"Huh?" Poe stared at him. "And let you meet up with Black Ball? Not much. I'll stick right here with you until—"
"Either you take orders from me," said Leach ominously, "or else you quit."
"Well, doggone, I don't aim to quit," returned Poe. "But—"
"No buts," cut in Leach. "I'll meet the Smith boys and look up Black Ball."
Poe disconsolately moved away, and Leach rode on along the former fence line. He was not at all elated by having just killed a man.
POE disappeared in the scrubby brush. Perhaps five minutes afterward, Leach descried two figures breaking cover from a deep swale off to the left. At sight of him they halted, then came toward him rapidly. Both riders were strangers to him. On closer approach he saw that their horses had been going heavily, and one of the two men seemed to have an injured arm, as it was hung in a rude sling. Leach drew up, disappointed and yet relieved that neither of these was Black Ball.
"Howdy, gents," he greeted amiably, when they drew rein. They were not prepossessing in appearance and inspected him scowlingly.
"Who are you, feller?" demanded one abruptly. Leach chuckled.
"You tell me and I'll tell you. Suit you?"
"What you doin' on our range?" Leach looked astonished. "So you've done bought this range, have you? That's right good news. I did think it was Bar G Bar land, for a fact. You boys looking for trouble?"
One of the two, the wounded one, threw a glance back over his shoulder as though trouble lay behind him. The other pressed in closer to Leach, with a black scowl.
"You that new feller running this county, are ye?" he demanded. "Leach, huh? Well, I aim to bleach ye! What ye grinning about?"
Leach laughed softly. He saw that these two meant trouble, and he had no desire for more of it at present. He turned in the saddle and directed a call at a patch of brush a hundred feet away.
"All right—you can plug the first one goes for a gun, Poe! Drop their hosses and then them."
Turning quickly, Leach looked at the man before him.
"Now, feller," he observed curtly, "there's been more killing around here to-day than should be. You belong to the Bull's-Eye outfit? Then go along home and keep off this land in future. If you want trouble, you'll get plenty of it...."
"Aw, he's faking!" cut in the hurt puncher, from one side. "Anybody can see there ain't nobody in them bushes—gwan and finish him, Pete! Hurry up about it-"
"By Godfrey," burst out Pete, "I'll learn ye to let your outfit run around wild with rifles and shoot at honest men—take this, ye coyote!"
So speaking, Pete awkwardly hauled forth a Colt's revolver, and flung it up.
Leach had been puzzled by the whole affair—it was crude, unnatural, without much reason. Now, however, he had the explanation in a liquor-laden breath that reached him; both these men had been drinking heavily.
It was no moment for niceties. If Joe Leach could not shoot worth a continental, he had a pistol where he could get at it, and he got it quick. The heavy report of the pistol was ahead of the savage revolver bark by a good two seconds; to the shot, Pete's horse went straight up on its hind legs, then collapsed. Pete's bullet went wild, and Pete followed, to land on his ear and lie quiet.
At the same instant came a slight sound, followed by the crack of a distant rifle. The second puncher swayed over his saddlebow, recovered, slapped in his spurs and went away at a good pace. Leach sat quiet, and looked down at the dead horse—the second animal he had killed within an hour. He put away his pistol and waited.
Presently Pete sat up and stared around in a dazed fashion. The next moment, a rider came surging up from the swale into sight, and galloped toward them. It was one of the two Smiths. He came up at full speed, and drew rein with an eager question.
"Where's the other one? Got away?"
"With a hole in his skin," returned Leach. "Was that your brother with the rifle?"
"Yep—chipped in just in time, I reckon. You ain't hurt Pete, I hope?"
"The durned fool went and shot my hoss!" wailed Pete, coming to his feet and shaking his fist at Leach. Smith grinned.
"You'll be the next to get the bullet, Pete. Well, boss, we found these here gents at work and flushed 'em. They had just killed one of our cows and were driving off the calf, so we went for 'em. Winged the other feller, I guess."
"Good work," said Leach. "They were riding over here to join Black Ball—he's doing the branding. I got Perkins and another rider. Pete, where's all the bootleg? If you hadn't drunk so much, you'd have had easier going."
Pete was already at work over his roll, strapped behind his saddle, and drew forth a half-filled flask which he proceeded to empty. He was too far gone already to pay much heed to anything that was said. Smith looked inquiringly at Leach.
"Want to take him in?"
"Sure thing. You attend to it, since it's your game. I'll meet your brother and see if Black Ball shows up. Make this bird walk home—do mm good, I guess. Poe has gone on to telephone the sheriff. You get the sheriff out here and show him the evidence."
"Perkins dead?" asked Smith. "No. Winged. The man with him is dead, though."
"Hard luck."
"I know it, but it couldn't be helped—he asked for it."
"Oh!" Smith chuckled. "I meant it was hard luck you didn't get Perk too."
With which. Smith flung himself from his saddle, fell upon Pete, and rolled that gentleman into the dust. With the end of his rope, he bound Pete's wrists firmly together, and in five minutes was riding away, Pete walking rapidly behind and filling the air with mournful profanity.
In his heart of hearts, Joe Leach fully agreed with Smith. Perkins alive was a most dangerous enemy; it would have been a good deal better had Perkins been the one to bite the dust. However, no help for it now!
Leach urged his horse forward to the swale—a deep, long ravine plunging away in the direction of the lower land. Here, presently, the other Smith appeared, with a jubilant wave of his rifle as his horse surged up beside that of Leach.
"Long shot, but I got him—seen him bend over to it!" he announced. "When we flushed them gents before, looks like I missed clean; they cut and run for it. What news?"
"Your man got away, wounded twice. The other's gone home with your brother. Perkins has a bullet through the leg. Another of his outfit needs the coroner. Sheriff will be here as soon as we can get him. Black Ball is doing the branding, somewhere near here."
Leach paused and rolled a cigarette. The rider gaped at him.
"My gosh! We've sure taught them birds a lesson, huh? And now what?"
"Find Black Ball, if we can."
THEY set about this laudable endeavor, but without success.
Something like an hour later, Leach answered a distant yell from
his rider, and came up to where Smith stood beside the ashes of a
tiny fire. The puncher pointed.
"Here y'are, but he's flown. Ground still warm under the ashes. Over yonder is the signs where he flung the calves. Seen two new-branded in the brush. I guess we got the goods on this here outfit, all right!"
"Looks like it," agreed Leach. "I expect Perkins knew right where to find Black and warned him off. Well, let's catch one of the calves and drag it along for evidence, and start home."
To catch one of the smarting, bawling calves was no simple job, but they managed it after half an hour of sweating effort, and then set forth on the back trail with the protesting calf dragging along at the end of a rope.
Since the sheriff might or might not belong to a lodge of rapid action, and hence might not show up until morning, Smith suggested skinning one of the shot cows. Leach negatived this as valueless work, but agreed that it might be a good plan to protect one of the bodies from coyotes or the already gathering birds. Smith pointed to one of the circling buzzards to their left, and both men headed for the spot. It was, Leach figured, half a mile away from the patch of brush marking his encounter with Perkins, and well on Bull's-Eye territory. So much the better, he thought—it would show that the enemy outfit were killing Bar G Bar cattle on their own land.
Having tied the calf and separated to locate the dead cow, Smith presently sent up a shout.
"I see him—by gosh! Must be the feller you laid out, Leach!"
"What, a man?" Leach turned his horse and spurred. "But this wasn't the place."
"Well, it's worse and more of it! Jumping whillikins, if it ain't Black Ball himself!"
Bewildered incredulity riding him hard, Leach joined his puncher and slipped from the saddle. There in the sunlight lay a man, face down, as he had fallen from his horse. He had been shot through the body and was dead. One glance at the hard, black-avised profile showed Leach there was no mistake. Black Ball himself lay here, dead.
"Holy horntoads!" breathed Leach, staring. "Smith, how the devil did this happen?"
"Search me." Smith gave him a curious stare. "Sure you don't know?"
"Ain't seen this jasper to-day." Leach shoved back his hat and scratched his head perplexedly. "Two men killed, it's bad! And two others shot up. Luckily, we seem to be in the clear so far as evidence goes—but it's bad business. Well, come along; we'll get home, and bring out a wagon for Black and the other feller."
LEACH was more disturbed than he cared to admit by this
discovery. Black Ball's death, whatever the cause, was sure to be
blamed on the Bar G Bar outfit. That was quite all right, so far
as the law went; Leach was more than certain of his position in
this respect. It meant war, however,—swift and certain
vengeance from Red Ball and the Bull's-Eye, and at this prospect
Leach shied. With Sally Crocker on hand and their marriage slated
for no distant date, he did not care to enter upon a deadly and
merciless feud such as this would be.
"No help for it, though," he reflected gloomily. "Got to finish what we've done started! Maybe Poe met up with Black Ball, maybe somebody else did the work. We'll wait and see what turns up. If we're not responsible for this killing, all's well." Premonition weighing heavily, he did not partake the blithe mood of his companion. Smith was cheerful, and admitted it freely. There was going to be a clearing-out in Indian Valley, maybe in all of Sunrise County, and he wanted to have a good hand in it. Then, after certain folks had gone where they belonged, maybe he and his brother could work their own little ranch in peace and make some profit. Mr. Smith was exultant, and was entirely ready to use his rifle on any moving object.
Leach just halted him from using it on an object ahead, which developed into a horse and rider approaching at top speed. By this time, the afternoon was wearing well along, and Leach rather expected the approaching rider would prove to be the sheriff. Instead, on closer view, it turned out to be Jim Tolliver, riding for all he was worth.
"He seems to be danged anxious to git somewheres," observed Smith, as the little old cook waved his hand and shouted something. Leach nodded and drew rein.
Three minutes later, Tolliver galloped up, and pulled in with a grunt.
"Gosh!" he exclaimed, "I ain't rid so hard for a long while. Glad I run acrost ye—done met Poe and Smith and got directed by good luck. Durn this pack!"
He turned to readjust a huge roll behind his saddle.
"What's your rush?" demanded Leach. "Looking for me? Where's the sheriff?"
"Looking for you likewise, or will be," returned Tolliver. "Come on, now, and don't ask no queries! You and me are goin' somewheres. Miss Jones says to tell you to do it and don't pause to wag your danged tongue. Smith, you can run along home and say nothing. You ain't seen Leach, if anyone asks you. Ready, Leach?"
The latter nodded to the astonished Smith, and turned his horse. He had not the least notion of the reasons behind all this, but if Sally Crocker had said to obey, he obeyed. Tolliver was already heading back toward the lake, and Leach followed blindly.
JUST as Leach caught up with Tolliver and was about to put a question, there came a most surprising diversion.
A peculiar thrumming sound seemed to fill the heavens, and Leach looked up to see the soaring shape of an airplane high overhead. The old crippled puncher shaded his eyes with one hand and squinted up wistfully.
"Gosh, there's one now!" he exclaimed. "Too high to monkey with, I reckon—always my luck, dod-gast it! I don't guess I'll ever get to hold up one o' them things—"
"Where on earth is she from?" demanded Leach amazedly.
"Forest patrol, I reckon," said Tolliver. "First of the season. Twice a day in summer, watching for fires—that's another reason I hadn't ought to hold her up, I guess, but it's powerful hard to resist temptation, pardner! Powerful hard. I've always hankered after one o' them things, jest to make my list complete—"
He mumbled to himself and both men, as they jogged along, watched the silver shape go winging away to the south. Then Leach remembered the situation, and brought old Tolliver back to earth with a sharp question.
"See here! Where are we going, and why? What's in that roll you have?"
"Grub and blankets, mostly." The bent little man clawed his beard, chuckled, and bent a twinkling gaze on Leach. "Howcome you killed Black Ball that-a-way? Wan't no way to do, I can tell ye. It raised hell."
"What?" Leach stared for an instant. "Who on earth told you about it? Besides, I didn't kill him. Don't even know who did. Smith and I just found him—"
"Shucks, I don't blame ye a mite," and Tolliver cackled in his whiskers. "He was an ornery reptile. Black was! Anyhow, you don't need to lie to me—"
"I'm telling you the truth," snapped Leach. "Tell me all you know—what's happened! Wait. I'll tell you what happened at this end, first."
He went on to relate the events of the afternoon. Tolliver jogged along, clawing his whiskers, and the crafty disbelief in his eyes slowly became a puzzled frown. When Leach had finished, he bit off a chew and then delivered himself.
"Huh! That feller Perkins is powerful bad med'cine, he sure is! Now, here's what we heard—"
He proceeded to tell a story which first angered then bewildered, and finally alarmed his auditor.
It appeared that Perkins had ridden up to the Bar G Bar ranch with a demand to use the telephone. Despite his bad leg, he had insisted on going to the instrument himself, and Sally Jones had assisted him into the house. Aunt Hennie appeared, and Perkins flung at her the bitter word that Leach had killed Black Ball, then had called up the Ball ranch, getting hold of Red Ball at once. He made the following report, which old Tolliver quoted verbatim in all essentials:
"Perkins talking, Red. I was riding up along the Bar G Bar line—that old fence, ye know—with Black and Oscar, when along comes this feller Leach. We had our eye on some wild cows in the brush up there and weren't paying him no great mind, when he rides up to us and tells us to get to hell off his land. Black got mad and cussed him out, and he pulls a gun and lets go. He got Black first crack. I missed him, and he plugged me through the leg, then put two bullets into Oscar.
"You what? Never mind all that, Red. We weren't looking for gunplay—how'd we know he'd let go on us that-a-way? No, I didn't see the other boys, but I done heard some shooting. I expect Leach has started in hot and heavy with them three riders of his. You can get him now if you get going—this was 'way up towards the lake, and I've rid hard getting here."
Mr. Tolliver spat hugely, wiped his lips, and said this was about all. Sally Jones had heard the story, and promptly ordered him out to meet Leach and guide him out of danger—if the story was true, or not, the Bull's-Eye riders would be out to cut him off from getting home, and that meant battle.
"She tells me to stick to you and keep you out o' trouble," he concluded. "I know the ground, and I can do it if anybody can; if you was to ride back now, you'd go straight into their arms. You can bet Red Ball is out for your scalp and no mistake! He ain't going to drag no sheriff into it—he's aiming to dance your hair."
LEACH gathered himself to face the situation. Amazing as was
the effrontery of Perkins, he was forced to admit its strategy.
And, after his first impulse to indignant fury, Leach likewise
realized the excellence of Sally Crocker's advice. This young
lady was her father's daughter—only no one knew it.
"That's right, we'll have to keep out of sight to avoid a regular war," commented Leach reluctantly. "That is, until the sheriff comes along to enforce peace. Red Ball will sure be out for my hide! Confound that crafty Perkins—-he's put a bad crimp into me! It's his word against mine, of course, and he was clever enough to get in the first report. Did they meet Poe and Smith? Did they know anything about Black's killing?"
"Nary a thing," said Tolliver. "Poe was all right, but Smith had Pecos with him on a rope, and pretty drunk too. I steered Smith off to ride around, for it's a cinch the whole Bull's-Eye outfit are between us and home right now, and coming fast. Who killed Black, if you didn't?"
"Search me," returned Leach, feeling helpless before this array of facts. "Even if I'm put on trial for it, won't I get off? I'd have every justification. The jury would know those jaspers were robbing the ranch here—"
"Sure, and none o' the natives would stand to see Aunt Hennie robbed by the Bull's-Eye," affirmed Tolliver sagely. "Besides which, Poe will get the sheriff right out to look over the ground, and Red Ball will be too durned busy hunting us to hide the traces. Perkins might think of doing that—"
"With a bad leg?"
"Shucks! He ain't much hurt," snorted the old puncher. "He let on it was mighty bad, but I seen him walk out to his hoss and hardly limp, as I was riding off. No, the danger to you is that Red Ball will wipe you out before you can give evidence— that's what Perkins wants, of course. And it'll be done before sundown if possible. There—dod-gast it! I knowed it!"
"What?" asked Leach, then had no need to ask....
Something like a whistling bee had come buzzing between them, and again. Spurs went in, the horses leaped; against the wind, the distant rifle-cracks were lost, and Tolliver was over a rise before other shots could come.
"Foller on!" he called to Leach, fanning his cayuse with his hat. "I know right where we'll go—made all my plans, dod-gast 'em! They ain't caught us by a durned sight! Come on and stick close!"
Leach spurred after, startled by the imminence of the peril.
They were by this time approaching the lower ground along the lake, and Tolliver seemed to be following a cattle trail. Ahead showed low hills, dotted with brush and moving cows. Off to the left was the lake, and to Leach it appeared as though they were getting to an impasse where they must be cut off, cornered and brought to bay. Having Implicit faith in his guide, however, he urged his mount to fullest speed and thundered along after the other, despite the obvious impossibility of keeping the horses going very long at such a gait.
AFTER a time Tolliver slowed down.
"We only got a couple hours to sundown," he observed. "And we know where we're going, or I do, while they got to foller trail. These here hills are too danged rough for horses, the way I'm going, and I figger on getting up to the head of the lake tonight, savvy? Once we get there, we can stay hid out until dooms-day."
"Without horses?" demanded Leach. The other chuckled.
"Take a rope along. There's a fine box canyon up there, all level grass, and about a dozen hosses ought to be there. Red Ball won't know what we figger on, and his outfit will be scraping all over them hills tryin' to locate us. Come morning, I reckon we can sneak into that canyon, get us a couple hosses, and ride on around the lake and over them hills into the other valley fork, and so home. That is, if the sheriff ain't showed up. He ought to show up in the morning, anyhow. We could pick off one or two of them boys with your rifle, if you'd say the word—"
"Nothing doing," said Leach promptly. "That is, unless we're forced. I'd give a good deal for a talk with Red Ball himself—I think I could make him believe that I had nothing to do with his brother's death. However, no chance for it! Go to it, cowboy. I'm in your hands."
"You might be in worser," said Tolliver proudly, and beat his jaded horse into a new burst of speed.
Once in the low stretch of hills. Leach saw that ahead these became mere jumbled masses of bleak rock, which apparently went on for ever. The going became worse. At length, faced by a steep hillside of jagged outcrop, Tolliver drew rein and dismounted, unstrapping his huge pack and opening it up.
"Got to split this," he grumbled. "Can't be without grub—"
"Here, you take the rifle and I'll manage that pack," said Leach, to the cripple. "It's no work for me, and you can handle the rifle in case of need. No time to waste here making up packs."
He swiftly rolled up the pack again and shouldered it. Tolliver took the rifle, and led the way upward, abandoning the horses after taking one of the ropes and both bridles. And now began a rough and rocky trail which tested both men to the utmost. How the little old cripple stood it, was past Leach's comprehension.
YET they worked ever forward, now struggling across gullies
and ravines, now scaling sharp hillsides, pressing on at the best
possible speed. Evidently their pursuers had been flung off, for
no more shots cracked out and nothing was in sight in their rear.
The sun was at the horizon when Tolliver slid down into a little
niche where a spring bubbled forth, and dropped in an exhausted
heap, panting for breath.
"Here we are—for the night. Safe enough, I reckon. After midnight—we can go on."
A can of salmon and a bag of biscuits made supper, with water from the spring, and the two stretched out in grateful relaxation. Before his cigarette was finished, Leach was asleep.
HE wakened to hear Tolliver stirring about, and sat up. It was
past midnight, a thin fine moon in the sky, and on some nearby
hillside a coyote was howling mournfully. In ten minutes the roll
was made up and they were off, clambering among craggy masses of
jutting rock that seemed to have no end.
Leach had no idea of direction, but asked no questions—the crippled puncher hobbled along with perfect confidence, and stated that he had hid out in this country more than once in the course of his long and sinful existence. Their progress was slow and not a little painful; an hour passed, and another, and still Tolliver plowed right ahead. Toward dawn, the rocky masses gave place to some brush-clad slopes, and as the eastern sky lightened, the old puncher flung himself down with a grunt of relief.
"We're here! Got to wait for daylight now, I reckon."
"Where are we, then?" demanded Leach, staring at the gloomy depths around.
"Upper end of the lake, about set to look down at the box canyon I told ye about. Let's have a snooze, and with sunup you'll find I'm right."
Leach shrugged and complied.
LEACH opened his eyes upon a world flooded with golden sunlight, found Tolliver already preparing a bite of breakfast, and stood gazing around.
It was a scene worth looking at. They were on a rounded hilltop, with the rocky waste behind and, off to the left, the glint of water below, where lay the lake. Ahead of them was a patch of bright emerald—a short, wide, flat canyon floor, smooth as a board. No trace of smoke broke the morning sky, no hint of any other human presence. Leach estimated it was not more than three or four hundred yards down the slope to the canyon floor.
"See 'em?" Tolliver rose to point at the upper end of the canyon, where appeared some moving objects. "I knew we'd find hosses here! That'll be your job—you're spryer on your feet than I am. Catch one, gentle him, catch another, and we're off."
"A simple job," commented Leach ironically, and laughed. "All right, old-timer! We'll manage it somehow."
They breakfasted, by which time the sun was well up above the peaks. There was now no time to be lost, for Tolliver figured that the Bull's-Eye outfit would be flung out to comb the hills for their quarry, so after rolling a smoke the two men started down for the canyon.
Halfway down the slope, Leach paused to stare upward. A thin, persistent hum filled the air, and Tolliver flung up his rifle toward the object high above.
"Thar she goes—headin' north on the patrol! Dog-gone, I'd swap my eye-teeth for a chanct to hold her up! Can't reach her, though. Well, you might's well get along after the hosses. I'll wait down at this end in case they try to break past."
Leach assented and strode away up the canyon side. He was some two hundred yards from Tolliver, when he sensed a sudden cessation of noise, and glanced up. The airplane was high, circling there with motor shut off; thinking the pilot must have sighted some fire and was pausing to get its position, Leach went on his way.
FIVE minutes later, his thoughts all on the bunch of horses
ahead, he was startled by a shrill yell from Tolliver, and
turned. The old puncher was jumping up and down excitedly and
waving his rifle. His words were lost, but Leach looked up-and
whistled. Silent as a feather, the airplane had descended and now
was hovering above the canyon. Beyond doubt, she was about to
make a landing here.
Even as Leach stared up, he saw her bank, turn, sweep gracefully down and then shoot past him, so close he caught a wave of the hand from the pilot. She touched, bounced, and then flew on toward Tolliver, and past, gradually slowing down.
"Whoop!" The wild yell reached Leach this time clearly. "By gum, I got my chance at last-she can't get away now!"
Tolliver started hopping along at his best rate toward the landed machine, now halted. Sensing what was in the old puncher's mind, Leach let out a shout of protest, then quieted. He was at too great distance to interfere, so he set down his pack and broke into a run. At all costs, he must keep Tolliver from any insane folly. The old man was obviously a bit unbalanced on the subject of holding up an airplane.
The pilot was clambering out of his machine. He came to the ground, pulled off his leather helmet, and stood gazing at the approaching Tolliver. The latter threw up his rifle and let out an exultant yell.
"Put 'em up, ding-blast ye! Put 'em up! I got ye covered, feller!"
"Put 'em up, ding-blast ye! Put 'em up! I got ye covered!"
The pilot, a bronzed young man, reached for the sky.
"What you mean by this?" he demanded hotly. "This is a government machine—"
"By gum, I know it!" sang out Tolliver, halting twenty yards away. "Whoop! I've done it at last, by goshfrey—I've done held up every danged thing there is to hold up! Prairie schooners, mail trains, automobiles, and airplanes-ain't one gosh-dinged thing I've missed, and now I can die happy. Keep them hands in the air, young feller—"
"Stop it!" roared out Leach, approaching on the run. "Lay off, Tolliver! Put down that gun, you fool!"
The old puncher swung about, his eyes blazing.
"Shet up! You interfere with me and you'll stop lead, savvy? This here is my funeral, and I aim to run her my own way." Leach changed his course. Slowing to a walk, he approached the machine and caught a quizzical glance from the pilot, who seemed to appreciate the humor of the situation.
"Who's your friend?" demanded the airman. "He seems right excited."
"He is," returned Leach drily. "Leave him to me. What made you land—trouble?"
"Fouled spark plugs—five minutes and I can go on. Mighty lucky I found this spot to land! Didn't know there was a ranch around here."
"There isn't," said Leach. "Some local gentlemen are between us and home, and right set on keeping us from getting there. We're from the other end the lake."
"Got a war on?"
Before Leach could reply, Tolliver broke in excitedly.
"Fix up your airyplane, feller-fix it up!" he commanded. "Then you can take us back to the Bar G Bar. We got a big meadow you can land in, behind the house. Savvy?"
"Sure I savvy," returned the airman coolly. "But I only have place for one. Ill take one of you along, if it's a case of have to. Can't take two." "All right," said Tolliver. "Then take him. Leach, you go along, and no fool talk! I'll mosey along later on. This here is your chanct—"
Leach turned. "Why, durn it, you know I can't slip away and leave you here to face the music—"
"Dang your eyes!" howled Tolliver wrathfully. "You'll go if I got to shoot ye and lead ye into that contraption! Feller, get her fixed to run, and do it sudden, else I'll put lead into you and your cussed machine too—move!"
The airman, evidently concluding he was dealing with a lunatic, obeyed the command and got to work. Leach attempted protest, but Tolliver silenced him with a burst of profanity, and reiterated his threat. Leach sensed it for a bluff, but did not know the crippled puncher well enough to be certain—and so took no chances. Excited, his old eyes ablaze, his manner wildly exultant, Jim Tolliver might prove as good as his word; and beyond any doubt, he was master of the situation.
"You never mind me—I'll get home," he declared positively. "It's up to you to get there and settle this here business with the sheriff, for Aunt Hennie. Savvy? You're goin' to do it, too! Got that machine fixed, feller? Then you head straight down to t'other end of the lake, and beyond to the ranch, and you'll see the place to land."
"She's all right, I guess." The airman looked at Leach. "Can you spin her over for me? Step back when I yell at you, then, and hop in. If it's straight goods about you being in a hole, I'll give you a lift home."
"That's straight goods," declared Leach, stepping out to the propeller.
Following instructions, he turned it over, leaped back at the shout of "Contact!" and then scrambled in. The engine roared, leaped into wild thrumming, and the plane began to bump over the ground. Then, before Leach realized it, they were in the air.
THE pilot, once up from the valley, circled and climbed. All
of a sudden he had ample confirmation of Leach's predicament;
came a faint "whang-g-g!" of metal, faint rifle-cracks from
below, and a number of figures appeared. The plane leaped and
soared, and a moment after was winging out over the lake. The
pilot looked back at Leach and grinned.
As for Leach, he knew now that old Jim Tolliver had put the whole game in his hands for the playing, and the rushing sweep of air, the keen exultancy that comes of soaring high above earth, put fire in his veins. He was himself again, for the first time since shooting that rustler the preceding day; all the remorse and despondency had dropped away, swept off in the wild thrill of this flight, and now he looked forward eagerly to what awaited at the other end.
A thousand feet high, they swept down the length of the lake, following the line of the valley, and once the water was past, came into sight of the Bar G Bar far ahead. Leach pointed to it, and the pilot nodded. Even at a distance, there was no mistaking the landing place referred to by Tolliver, but the airman shook his head when Leach indicated it and shouted something about wind and take-off. Instead, he pointed to a gentle slope half a mile from the house, with some question. Leach nodded. He would have assented to anything, to be back on earth and at work, and was entirely willing to let the pilot have his own way.
Then the spiral, the sharp bank, the mad rush downward to the ground. The landing was a perfect one, and the slope killed speed at once. As the machine halted, the pilot shoved back his goggles and rose.
"Give me a hand with her, will you? Got to turn her and take off—I'm behind schedule now. This spot suit you?"
"Fine," said Leach. "And I'm mightily obliged to you for the lift, partner!"
"Obligation's the other way around for not letting your whiskered friend perforate me," and the pilot chuckled as he leaped out. "Come on, and I'll be off at once."
Leach obeyed. They swung around the machine, the airman climbed in, and again Leach spun the propeller. Almost instantly the plane was off, with a roaring thrum of its motor—off and lifting, soaring gracefully, climbing; in a long curve.
Watching the aviator depart, Leach had been oblivious of other things. Now, turning, he faced the ranch—and suddenly stiffened. Two riders were racing toward him at top speed—and the foremost was Red Ball.
LEACH was absolutely thunderstruck at sight of Red Ball—bare-headed, fanning his horse, thundering down upon him at a mad gallop. He had supposed this man clear at the other end of the lake in the wilderness of rock; and to find him here!
Then his gaze fell upon the second rider, fifty feet behind Red Ball, and Leach whistled in blank dismay. It was Sally Crocker, likewise bare-headed, waving an arm to him, shouting something he could not catch. He had no need of any warning, however—the look on Red Ball's face was enough. Leaving the ranch house he could see a number of running figures. Obviously, Red Ball and the girl had seized the only two horses available, upon sighting the landing airplane.
A dozen feet distant, Red Ball reined in his horse and leaped to the ground.
"Got you, have I?" he shouted. "That's right, pull a gun—do me in like you done Black! But I'm goin' to reach you first, dad-blast you!"
He came on at a run, evidently unarmed. Leach, who had drawn his pistol, saw that all argument was useless; the man was in a mad welter of fury. He tossed away the weapon, just as Red Ball came hurtling in with a savage blow. Fists to fists, then! So much the better.
No time to utter a word, scarcely time to drop the pistol and evade that first furious blow; instead of ducking away, however, Leach stepped into the rush and his fist drove in with his whole weight behind it, landing under the heart. That terrific smash rocked Red Ball backward, stopped him short, and was followed by a left hook to the chin. With a set grin, Red Ball took the blow and countered heavily, catching Leach on the point of the chin and sending him sprawling.
"Come on for more of it!" yelled Red Ball. "Keep out of this, girl—out of it!"
Sally Crocker had come up. Leach rose, her cry in his ears, and waved his hand.
"Keep out, Sally!" he exclaimed grimly, and then met Red's rush.
Once again he stepped full into it, this time with more care. That one blow had shaken him badly—on the angle of the jaw it would have knocked him out. Now another came for the same spot. He evaded it, and drove in a second smash below the heart. For a few seconds the two men stood and slugged—then Leach had his opening.
Now, for the first time, he snapped up a short, savage smash to the angle of the jaw, and reached his mark. Staggered, Red Ball wavered for an instant—this instant was his undoing. Leach's fist cracked in, and with a little gasp Red Ball spun around, threw out his hands, and collapsed.
Leach came to himself to find Sally Crocker flinging her arms about him jubilantly.
"Oh, good, good!" she cried in wild excitement. "He had just come—we were trying to explain things to him when we heard the machine! The sheriff's there—he's made that man Pete talk—the Bull's-Eye rider you sent in with Smith. He made Red Ball hand over his gun and then—"
"All right, all right!" Leach laughed, and cut short her breathless flow of words in the most effective manner. "Now, honey, go and stop 'em! I want to talk to this jasper—no, you needn't be afraid. No more scrapping. I'll bring him along pretty soon. Any sign of Perk?"
"No." The girl drew back. "You really want me to go?"
"Yes, and head off the gang running here!" exclaimed Leach, seeing the running figures halfway to the spot. "Leave me to. talk with Red! Go on, honey—I'll see you soon enough. You can help a whole lot if you give me a chance to talk with him."
"Right."
With only the one word, Sally Crocker was back in the saddle and spurring away. Leach turned, giving no more thought to possible interference—he knew she would manage to head it off. And Red Ball was struggling to rise.
"Take it easy, Red," he said, and squatted down beside the other, who glared up at him with dazed, hate-filled eyes. "You and me can have a chat now, I reckon. First off, I didn't kill your brother. Let that soak in, now, for a minute."
Leach rolled and lighted a cigarette, and met the man's gaze steadily. If he had gauged the man aright, he would win here; if not, he would lost. Under his quiet regard, the blue eyes lost their hot passion, narrowed on his face, searched him. Red "Ball, on one elbow, looked at him for a long moment, then sat up.
"I'm listening," he said curdy.
Leach took his time. He saw that the man's quick fury had given place to indecision.
"Like this, Red," he said presently, noticing that Sally Crocker had reached and halted the advancing group of men. "We caught some of your outfit yesterday, caught 'em dead to rights. Here's what happened."
He described what had taken place the previous afternoon. He spoke slowly, steadily, and gradually his cool recital had its effect—his unhurried poise, his quiet words, reached into the other man. Red Ball listened without interruption.
"Now," concluded Leach, "if your brother had met us, he'd probably have been killed. Red. If I or one of my men had met him, I expect bullets would have talked. If so, I'd not lie to you about it; we've nothing to fear from the law, in any case, and I'm not particularly afraid of you. But we never laid eyes on Black yesterday, until we found him dead. Whether he was killed by a stray bullet, I can't say. I haven't the ghost of an idea who did shoot him. He had his gun, unused."
"It's your word against that of Perkins," said Red Ball hoarsely.
"Balance it," said Leach.
The other stared at him, surprised, thoughtfully obeying the demand. Swift as Red Ball had been to anger, he was equally swift to cool.
"Well," came the admission, frankly enough, "I'd say you were no liar, Leach. I never knew the boys were rustling Aunt Hennie's stock, if you believe me."
"Your word's good with me, Red," said Leach quietly. The other flushed.
"If you didn't kill Black, then who did?"
"That's to find out. How does it happen you're here and not up the valley?"
"I was up there last night. When you slipped us, I thought you'd double-back here and came to be on hand."
"Want to go over to the house, then?" inquired Leach. "You can question Poe and the two Smith boys. You'll find that I've told you the truth. One of your own men is there. Maybe you can make him talk."
Red Ball came to his feet. "Come on, Leach. Your word goes—and well look into this business right now."
Leach rose, picked up his pistol, and they walked toward the waiting group.
FOREMOST among these were the sheriff, two deputies, with Poe
and one of the Smiths. The girl greeted Leach with a smile of
relief, and he was introduced to the other men. Red Ball spoke
curtly.
"Boys, I don't guess Leach shot Black, after all. Let's go over to the house and sort over the facts."
"That's what I'm here for," said the sheriff grimly. "Come on."
Leach walked beside Sally Crocker. It was a silent procession, for all were not a little astonished to find Red Ball coming back so calmly to investigate matters. Yet there was something ominously grim in the red-haired man's air; he was holding himself in restraint, but if he ever broke loose again he would not easily be quelled. As they neared the house, the sheriff turned to Leach.
"I'd like to have your gun, Leach," he said.
With a nod. Leach handed over the weapon.
Miss Billings came out to meet them, leaving on the verandah the other Smith and his sullen captive, Pete. The old lady rushed up to Leach and seized his hand.
"Tell me quick, young feller, and tell me the truth—did you shoot Black Ball?"
"No, ma'am," and Leach smiled, as he met her eyes.
"Then it's all right. Even if you did shoot him, it's all right after the way him and his outfit were robbing me—but I'd hate to see you and Red starting a war."
"We're not going to start one—are we, Red?" demanded Leach. Red Ball looked at him and grimaced slightly.
"Ain't sure yet. Leach—but I reckon not."
"Now, if you folks will sort of back up," said the sheriff, as they came to the house.
"I'll take charge and deal the cards. Leach, we've got the story of what happened from your three riders, and they all coincide. Now let's hear you."
All disposed themselves comfortably, and Leach related events. When he had finished, the sheriff turned to the sullen Pete.
"What about it?"
"True enough, far's it goes about me and Slim," said the puncher. "I dunno nothing about Black's killing, as I've done said sixteen times."
"All right," said the sheriff. "Now, here's the story Perkins told—that he and Black Ball and the rider Oscar were together when Leach came up, pulled a gun, and let go, killing Black and Oscar, and wounding Perkins. There's no evidence for or against—"
"Hold on," said Leach. "There's evidence enough. We found Black lying a good half-mile from where I met Perkins and Oscar. Smith was with me then. Poe and both the Smith boys can testify there was no sign of Black's body about that thicket. Leaving out the fact that I'd be a plumb fool to ride up on three men and start to firing, the ground itself ought to show evidence enough, and the position of the bodies."
"S'pose we get hold of Perkins, then," said the sheriff. "I'd like to question that jasper. Call up and see if he's at your place, Red. Can you ride over here?"
"Sure he can ride—he ain't hurt much," sniffed Red Ball, and strode into the house to reach the telephone.
"Meantime," said the sheriff, eyeing the Sullen captive, "Pete, you're under arrest 'for rustling and various things."
This was no news to Pete, who only grunted and fell to work on a smoke. Leach, however, intervened suddenly.
"Who's making the charge, Sheriff?'
"Why, ain't you making it?" came the Surprised question.
"I reckon so," said Leach thoughtfully. "But it looks to me. Sheriff, like this rustling had been done by Black Ball and Perkins, without Red Ball taking a hand. Ain't that so, Pete?"
"Uh-huh," assented the puncher gloomily. "Red wasn't in on it."
"Which would make the charge go against Perkins too," said the sheriff.
"Exactly," said Leach. "But about Pete, here—I ain't so sure. If Pete could give us any line on Black's death, I might use Pete as a witness instead of laying a charge against him. How about it, Pete? Do you know of anybody who might have shot Black Ball—anyone who had a grudge against him, or who had fought with him lately?"
Red Ball came out on the verandah, caught the words, and paused to hear the reply. Pete lighted his cigarette, his sullen gaze on Leach.
"No," he said. "I'd help you if I could, but I can't. The only feller who had any row with Black was Perkins. They had it hot and heavy yesterday morning about Something, but things was smoothed over."
Red Ball came forward.
"Perkins ain't at the ranch—rode out this morning," he announced. "Leach, can I see you alone a minute?"
"Sure thing." Leach rose, and Red Ball led him into the house, into the parlor, and then shut the door and regarded him steadily.
"I reckon well settle this business here and now, Leach," he said harshly.
"HUH?" Leach stared. "What d'you mean, Red?"
"Business. I done talked to the cook, over the wire. He was there when Perkins showed up last night; helped him bandage up his leg and so on. Now, you done said Perk took a shot or two at you, after wiping you over the face with his quirt. Eh?"
Leach nodded. "Two shots. I had forgotten to take away his gun."
Red Ball's freckled features went hard and cold.
"That's the answer." He put out his hand. "Shake. I'm durned glad I didn't have a gun to pull on you, out there!"
"So'm I." Leach chuckled, but eyed the other man with a puzzled regard. "How-come all this, Red? What makes you think it's all square, since Perk took two shots at me?"
"Well, I ain't very fond of Perk," said Red Ball seriously. "He's a treacherous, mean devil, he is. Now, you heard what Pete said, outside, about him and Black having a row yesterday morning? That's all. Perk took two shots at you. The cook says to me when Perk cleaned his gun last night, he had shot it three times."
Leaving Leach to get the full implication of this remark, Red Ball turned, opened the door, and strode back to the verandah. There he spoke abruptly.
"Sheriff, I ain't got any charge to make against Leach. I reckon his yam was straight."
"Good," said the sheriff, with a keen look. "Got any idea who shot Black?"
"I sure have," said Red Ball, "but I ain't saying who. If I meet up with him before you do, I'll attend to him. Now, the cook says he thinks Perk went to town. S'pose you swear me in as a deputy, Sheriff, me and Leach both. I'm just as hot to make up for this rustling business as anybody. Me and Leach will ride up to where the shooting took place yesterday and look over the ground, while you go in to town after Perkins—if that suits you."
The sheriff hesitated, then his gaze went to Leach, in the doorway behind Red Ball, and Leach nodded quiet assent. He rose and put out his hand to Red Ball.
"Always knew you were a square shooter. Red—put it there! You say the word, and I'll leave the investigation in the hands of you two boys, while I go grab Perkins. It may be takin' a chance, but I know you. Hold up your hands."
The two did so, and were promptly sworn in as deputies.
Horses were in the corral, and there was a general move to saddle up and be gone. Leach went to Sally Crocker and Miss Billings. The old lady was radiant.
"I knew it'd come out all right!" she declared. "Soon's you said you didn't kill Black, I knew it was so. You ain't a liar, young feller."
"I am," said Leach with abrupt bitterness. "I'm the durndest liar you ever seen, ma'am! But this business is going through all right for you—leave it to me. Sally, could I have a cup of coffee before we start?"
The girl vanished hastily. Leach was given back his pistol, as was Red Ball, by the sheriff, who offered to leave his other deputies with them. Red shook his head.
"No, thanks—the Bull's-Eye started all this trouble, and I'm able to clear it up and make good, with Leach helping. Every one of our riders mixed up in this rustling will be turned in to jail. Sheriff. We'll be along to-night, I reckon. So long!"
Poe and the Smith boys were insistent on going along, but Leach refused them. Swallowing his coffee, he strode out to the horses, which had been saddled and brought up, and mounted beside Red Ball. With a wave of the hand, the two rode off together. Not until they were a good half mile on their way, did Leach break silence.
"I don't savvy your play, but I'm backin' it up," he said whimsically. "You've got no real evidence against Perkins having killed your brother."
"Look like it to you?" said Red Ball. "How'd you piece it out?"
"Well, maybe. Perkins might have met Black after getting away from me—might have seen the chance to murder him, make everybody think I'd done it, have you wipe me out, and stay clean. Depends on what was between them—you can search me! But, if you want to find Perkins, why didn't you go to town?"
Red Ball's eyes twinkled. "Perk didn't go to town—he headed off up the valley," he said. "I wanted to get the sheriff out'n the way, savvy? Now we're off. I expect Perk went back to make all the signs read right and corroborate his yarn. We'll likely find him right there at work. Come on, feller!"
Leach obeyed.
THE morning was nearly half gone when the two men came riding
up toward the big patch of brush where Leach had met Perkins and
Oscar the preceding day. They did not come riding together,
however. Leach came from one direction, Red Ball from another,
their arrival timed so that they would strike the patch of brush
almost at once.
That someone was here ahead of them, they knew already, from a number of disturbed buzzards circling in the air. Leach worked his way through the brush, after dismounting. He was in no particular hurry, for Red Ball had wanted to reach Perkins first, if indeed the Bull's-Eye foreman were here.
Having lost all contact with Red Ball, Leach had no idea of the other's position, and could gain none, so thick was the brush. For the same reason, however, Perkins would remain unaware of their arrival, or so they gambled. Leach knew already that Red Ball had neglected to remove his brother's body, in his mad haste of the previous day to avenge his death. .
After five minutes of struggling along, as quietly as possible, Leach crawled past a stinging, stubborn thicket of manzanita whose blood-red limbs sprawled grotesque as snakes in the sunlight, and came out into sight of the same glade where he had discovered the two rustlers. And before him, thirty feet distant, stood Perkins.
He stood with his back to Leach, in an attitude of startled alarm, and next moment he broke into speech, addressing the invisible Red Ball who must have appeared close to him.
"Hello, Red! Came near shooting before I seen who it was. Why didn't you holler?"
"I aim to holler in a minute," said the voice of Red.
"Get that feller Leach, did you?"
"Nope. He done got clear away from the whole outfit."
Perkins swore in a heartfelt manner. "That's bad!"
"Bad for your plans, reckon you mean."
"Huh?" Perkins started. "Howcome?"
"You gosh-dinged snake, I know the whole thing!" burst out Red Ball. "I know how you done killed Black and then lied to everybody—you hadn't thought anybody-might be around looking on, huh? Well, you fooled yourself."
As he spoke, Red Ball came into sight of Leach, approaching Perkins wrath fully. The foreman shrank back a pace and cried out in shrill fear.
"I didn't go to kill him, Red! Honest! He—"
Red Ball flung himself forward with a savage oath, but Perkins had already acted. Swift as light, his quirt flicked out and across the eyes of Red Ball. A shot followed, and Red Ball whirled and fell sideways. Perkins stood looking at him, pistol in hand.
"So you found out, did you!" he exclaimed sneeringly. "Well, you'd better use your gun first and talk afterwards when you come at me with that kind of—"
"Right good advice. Perk," drawled Leach. "I'll follow it if you don't put 'em up mighty sudden—up, you fool!"
For Perkins turned, catlike, and swung his weapon. Leach fired and missed, as he had known he must at this distance. He fired again. A hot iron seemed to sear across his body—Perkins was shooting. He tried to press trigger once more, but failed. His pistol fell.
Perkins turned, catlike, and swung
his weapon. Leach fired and missed.
For an instant he caught the sneering, exultant grin of Perkins, then tottered, caught at the stiff manzanita to one side for support The very life seemed ebbing out of him.
"Got it, have you?" jeered Perkins. "You and him both, huh? Well, you don't matter so much—durn you! You spoiled a mighty fine game for me, and now you've drawn your pay. So take the final one and welcome—"
He flung up his weapon and aimed again, in thorough enjoyment of his mastery. But, at this instant, the hand of Red Ball came out and seized his ankle.
As Leach wavered and crashed down, he saw Perkins fall into the very arms of Red Ball.
LATE that afternoon, Joe Leach sat in a Morris chair on the verandah of the Bar G Bar ranch house, watched the doctor ride away, and jiggled in his hand a flattened piece of lead the doctor had removed from beneath his shoulder blade. The removal had not been a pleasant experience.
Red Ball came striding out from the house, a bandage about his head where Perkins' bullet had scraped his skull.
"I done reported that Perk was killed resisting arrest," he stated. "You back it up?"
"I didn't see him killed," observed Leach.
"Good thing you didn't," retorted Red Ball curtly. "Aunt Hennie's coming—shut up! I'll find out what I can about the rustled cattle, and we'll have an accounting with you after the round-up. I aim to settle things square. Suit you?"
"Whatever you say, old-timer," said Leach, and gripped the other's hand. Then Red Ball was gone, hurrying out to his waiting horse.
Aunt Hennie Billings appeared with a cup of broth for the invalid, drew up a chair for herself, and proceeded to feed him. The old lady was bubbling over with sympathy and kindliness, and her admiration was unbounded. When she began to dilate upon the good times ahead for the Bar G Bar under the management of Leach, and her luck in getting such a partner and foreman, it was more than the unhappy young man could endure.
"My gosh, Miss Billings, cut it out!" he groaned suddenly. She sat back, startled.
"Eh? Cut what out? You ain't got another bullet somewheres?"
"I got worse'n that, ma'am," he confessed with a sinking feeling. "I got to own up and tell you the truth, ma'am."
"My land, you couldn't tell me nothing else!" she interrupted with some asperity. "I know a straight eye when I see it, young man. Now, don't you go to talking—"
"I got to," said Leach stubbornly. "I thought I could run it along, but I can't do it. You been too durned good to me, and it's mighty hard to know I ain't deserving of your liking. Anyhow, it's so. All this while, ma'am, I been working for Crocker. There it is, flat out. He done sent me up here. Now you know it."
HE was puzzled by the way Miss Billings received this
information. She did not appear overcome by amazement, nor did
she show any signs of the wrath he had anticipated. She set back
in her chair, her thin lips set in their accustomed prim line,
and her eyes bit sharply at him from behind her spectacles, but
Leach almost could have believed she was laughing at him. There
was no laugh in her voice when she answered, however.
"Oh! Working for Crocker, eh?" she said acidly.
"Yes'm."
"Told me a passel o' lies, did you?"
"Yes'm—mostly."
"Got me to go to a lawyer and sign up papers, all for Crocker's benefit, eh?"
"No, for yours more than his," returned Leach, desperately anxious to right himself as much as possible. "I acted as his agent and with his money, but he's bound by it. I'll get word from him any time now. If he refuses to agree to what I've done, you can sue him and collect. If he agrees, then you're settled for life right here. I did hope I could stay on and run this place for him and you both, but I can't do it and be lying to you all the while."
"Oh!" said the old lady. "I suppose you think you're a hell of a fine liar, eh?"
"Yes'm," said Leach. "When I lie, I aim to do it good."
"And I suppose," she went on grimly, "you reckon you've clear flabbergasted me by telling me all this, eh?"
"I expect it ain't pleasant—"
"Well, shut up and think again. I've known it quite some time already. Now drink this here broth and keep your trap shut, and figure that you'll stay right here and run this ranch forme and Tom Crocker. Savvy?"
Leach lifted in his chair, and his jaw fell. "Huh? What's that you said—you knew it already? You knew before I told you—"
Miss Billings smiled.
"Yes. Sally Crocker told me the whole thing last night, about herself and you and all, when we didn't know but we'd never see you alive again. And we're having a new deal, young man, and making a fresh start—savvy? You suit me, and I reckon this ranch suits you, so you got to take the good with the bad and put up with me, and all's well. Now eat and quit trying to talk—eat, doggone you!"
Leach ate. He was too stupefied to do anything else. Miss Billings, who was having a first-class time in her own way, poured the broth into him and then vanished into the house.
Two minutes later, Joe Leach felt a light step behind him, and a hand came over his eyes. He gripped it with both of his.
"So you told!" he exclaimed vibrantly, a new ring in his voice.
"I had to, Joe." Sally Crocker bent over, kissed him, and perched on the arm of his chair. "I was frightened, and I felt so badly over having deceived her—Joe, she's a perfect dear! I believe I'm going to stay right on here with her."
"Gosh!" exclaimed Leach. "So am I—I guess she's forgiven me, from what she says. How you mean you'll stay on here, honey—with me?"
She looked down, met his eager eyes, and laughed a little.
"Want me?"
"Surest thing you know. Want you? Good goshfrey, I want nothing else to make this here ranch heaven!" affirmed Leach with fervency. "But you said your dad would never let you marry, for a few years anyhow, and you wouldn't go against him—"
"I won't have to," said the girl, laughing. "A telegram came for you just before you and Red Ball got back. I opened it. It was foolish of dad to send a telegram, for then everybody would know you were working for him, so it's just as well I confessed last night to Aunt Henni. Well, I expect Dad was in the middle of a poker game, and forgot himself. Here's the message. They telephoned it out, and I wrote it down."
Leach seized the sheet of paper she held to him, and read:
"Go ahead. Whatever you do, I back you up. Crocker."
"Gosh!" exclaimed Leach, staring up at the laughing eyes above him. "So that's it, huh? Then you and I get married right off —and flash this message on Dad!"
"That's it," and suddenly Sally Crocker slipped down and away, before the eager hand of Leach could seize her. She halted, and stared out at something in the distance. Her hand went up, pointing. "What's that? Looks like a man—"
Leach looked. Sudden compunction smote him.
"Holy horntoads—it's poor old Jim Tolliver—I clear forgot about him! He couldn't catch a horse and he's hobbling in. Honey, send one of the boys to meet him, will you? But wait a minute. Come here first."
Already starting for the steps, Sally Crocker paused and looked over her shoulder.
"What for?"
"Come here and I'll show you."
Her eyes flashed in a smile. "No, thanks," she retorted, and started down the steps. "You just wait, Joe Leach—until it gets dark!"
Leach sat back in his chair and grinned—then grimaced as the movement hurt his wounded ribs.
"Aunt Hennie!" he called.
He repeated the call, and after a minute Miss Billings came bustling forth.
"Yes? What is it?"
"Is there a preacher in Sunrise City, ma'am?"
"Two. What you want a preacher for?"
"Private business. Telephone one of 'em and tell him to get out here right after supper, will you, please?"
"No, I won't," said Miss Billings, and then, over her shoulder, she added, "I've done it already. He'll be here for supper. Suit you?"
"Come here and I'll show you if it suits me!" exclaimed Leach audaciously.
And Aunt Hennie did.
Roy Glashan's Library
Non sibi sed omnibus
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