Oliver Strange - Sudden Westerns 01 - The Range Robbers(1930) (2 page)

 
          
“The
hard citizen—an’ yu shore have got him right—is Poker Pete, a slick man with
cards or guns by reputation. If yo’re aimin’ to stay in these parts yu might
remember that he’s got friends hereabouts.’

 
          
“That
so?’ queried the other nonchalantly. “Well, I guess some folk around here ain’t
particular who they mix up with.’ They watched the play in silence for a while.
The gambler was winning, but beyond an occasional gleam in his beady eyes, his
face betrayed no emotion whatever. He was a big-made man, beefy, but in poor
condition, and the rusty black coat he wore seemed curiously out of keeping
with the trousers thrust into top boots, and the slouched hat. His opponent,
who had evidently visited the bar on more than one occasion, betrayed a
lamentable lack of that stoicism so essential to good
poker-playing,
and profane expressions of joy or disgust punctuated his game. At length, with
a hearty curse, he slammed down the cards, rose to his feet, and cried:

 
          
“That
lets me out. Yu done corralled the whole herd, every cent of three months’ pay,
‘cept what went for irrigatin’. I never see such luck. Am I good for a drink,
Silas?’

 
          
“Have
one on the house,’ replied that worthy, and passed the bottle. The gambler did
not speak or move. Idly ruffling the pack in his hands, he glanced at the
stranger. It was an invitation.

 
          
“Shore
I’ll take a whirl with yu,’ said the visitor, and seated himself in the chair
the cowboy had vacated.

 
          
He
won the cut for deal and the game commenced. Both men played cautiously, each
testing the strength of the other. Bets ruled small, and at the end of half an
hour there was but little between the players. Then the man who called himself
Green picked up a hand, looked at it, and said: “S’pose we get outa the infant
class an’ whoop her up a bit.’

       
“Suits me,’ replied his opponent.

 
          
The
amount of the bets increased, and the stranger won steadily. The gambler
appeared to lose a little of his immobility as misfortune continued to dog him.
“Luck’s dead out,’ he grumbled, as he pushed across another twenty dollars,
“but it’s bound to change, an’ I’ll get yu yet.’
The
possibility of seeing an expert trimmed had drawn Silas from behind the bar,
and he now stood with the young puncher, both closely watching the game.
The gambler, who had now lost about a hundred dollars, dealt. Green glanced at
his cards, laid them face down on the table, and said: ‘bettin’ fifty—in the
dark.’

 
          
“I’m
seein’ that an’ raisin’ her as much,’ was the instant reply. “Come again,’ said
Green, pushing out another fifty.

 
          
“Which
makes her two hundred,’ retorted Poker Pete, and reached for the pack. “Yu want
any cards?’

 
          
“Put
‘em up!’
came
the sharp command, and the astonished
gambler looked up into the threatening muzzle of an unwavering Colt.

 
          
“What
th
’ hell…’ he began, but nevertheless his hands
reached for the roof: it seemed a safer position for argument.

 
          
The
other stretched forward, and with his left hand extracted a gun from its place
of concealment under Pete’s armpit.

 
          
“Keep
‘em up,’ he said menacingly, and then, to the two onlookers, “Yu see, he dealt
me three kings, an’ I’ve a hunch there’s three aces in his own hand. He reckons
I’ll take two cards, so he fixes the other king and a low one top o’ the deck,
with the other ace comin’ next, so that whether I take one or two, or none
whatever, he’s got me beat every way there is. Now,

seh
,’ —this to the barkeeper— “I’ll be obliged
if you will turn up his hand, an’ then the three top cards o’ the pack. If I’m
wrong, I’ll eat dirt, an’ the stakes are his, but if I’m right’

 
          
He
broke off grimly and watched Silas expose the cards. They proved to be placed
exactly as he had predicted. The cheat also watched the operation with an
expression in which fear and hatred were curiously mingled. The test over, the
stranger looked at him with plain contempt.

 
          
“Yu
a gambler,’ he sneered. “Why,
yo’re only a cheap tinhorn
.
Yu don’t know nothin’ about poker.
I’ve seen boys o’
fourteen who could skin yu at the game. How much did he take outa yu?’
This to the previous player.

 
          
“Hundred
an’ twenty,’ replied the puncher. “But I ain’t kickin’—I lost

 
          
“Lost
nothin’,’ retorted Green. “When yu go up agin a stacked deck yu don’t lose—yu
just get robbed.’

 
          
He
pushed the amount from the money lying on the table, pocketed the remainder,
and then holstered his gun. Instantly the gambler sprang to his feet, his right
hand dropped to his neck, there was a rapid movement, and a heavy knife flashed
past the stranger’s ear, burying itself with a dull thud in the log wall. The
man whom death had missed by a bare inch looked at the poisonous face of his
would-be murderer and laughed cynically.

 
          
“Ain’t
there nothin’ yu can do well?’ he asked, and then, “I shot a rattler on my way
here, an’ I just can’t go on wastin’ good cartridges on vermin.’

 
          
With
the words he leapt suddenly, clearing the intervening table, and as his feet
touched the floor, his fist, with all the momentum of his body behind it,
caught the gambler on the jaw, lifted him clear of the ground and hurled him
with a crash against the wall. There he lay, limp and huddled, only the hatred
in his eyes showing that he still lived. The visitor forbore to add to the
punishment.

 
          
“Fade,’
he said, and with a muttered curse the beaten man climbed slowly to his feet
and staggered from the’ saloon. Not until he had vanished did the grim features
of the victor relax, and then, “Where do I eat?’ he asked.

 
          
“Down
at the hotel, with me,’ said the puncher eagerly. “Gosh! I’ll be proud to know
a man who can hit like that. Larry Barton is my brand.’ The other man smiled at
the boy’s wholehearted invitation, and after seeing to the needs of his horse,
accompanied his new friend to the hotel, where they dispatched a satisfying
meal.

 
          
“If
yu got any notion o’ settlin’ down around here yu want to remember that Poker
has the name for never forgettin’ or forgivin’,’ Larry said. The remark
amounted to a question, and the other man rolled a cigarette with meticulous
care before he replied.

 
          
“That
sort o’ makes me eager to stay,’ he said quietly. “But I gotta get a job—I
ain’t
no
plutocrat.’

 
          
“Fine,’
said Larry. “All yu hey to do is fork yore cayuse an’ come along o’ me to the Y
Z. I heard the Old Man sayin’ he wanted another puncher. I reckon yu understand
cattle.’

 
          
“I
expect I’ve got notions thataway,’ was the smiling reply.

 
          
“Well,
the Y Z is one good ranch,’ returned the boy. “Blaynes, the foreman, is shore
tough, but the Old Man is all right, an’ his daughter, Miss Norry, makes a
short-sighted man’s life a burden.’

 
          
“Good-looker,
eh?’ queried the stranger.

 
          
“Good
everythin’,’ was the enthusiastic answer. “But shucks, what’s the use? I’m only
a cowhand. Say, we’d better get agoin’.’

 
          
SIMON
PETTER—more generally referred to as “Old Simon’—the owner of the Y Z ranch,
was a grizzled, stoutish man in the early fifties. His face was good-natured,
but in the rounded chin there was a hint of weakness, which a short beard did
not fully conceal. He had the repute of being a fair man in his dealings, and
was generally liked in the district. He stood now on the broad verandah of the
ranch-house, apprising the man Larry had enthusiastically presented to him,
with a brief account of what happened at the “Folly.’

 
          
“Poker
Pete, eh?’ he said. “Well, he’s had it comin’ to him for quite a while.
So yu rough-housed him, eh?’

 
          
“Maybe
I didn’t think I was handlin’ aigs,’ said the stranger, with a grin.

 
          
Simon
liked the smile and the competent look of power in the wearer of it.

 
          
“An’
yu want a job?’ he continued.

 
          
“Why
no, seh,’ replied the drawling voice. “I ain’t near
so
broke as that, but I’m willin’ to take one.’

 
          
“What’s
yore name?’ came the blunt question.

 
          
“Green
is the only label I can produce at the moment. Yu will find I answer to that as
well as another.’

 
          
Old
Simon looked at the steady narrowed eyes, and his own twinkled. In that country
names were nothing—more than one good man finding it expedient to sail under
false colors. Anyway, the applicant looked capable, and he wanted men of that
stamp just now.

 
          
“The
pay is forty a month, an’ grub is good,’ he said. “Larry will take yu down an’
introduce yu to the boys. My foreman, Blaynes, is away; yu can report to him in
the mornin’.’

 
          
“Say,
boss, I told him fifty per,’ interjected Barton.

 
          
“Yore
mouth opens too easy,’ retorted Old Simon. “It’s forty for newcomers. Take it
or leave it.’

 
          
“Suits
me,’ said the new man, and was turning to accompany Barton when the angry
scream of a horse shattered the silence.

 
          
In
a moment they saw the animal rushing towards them from the corral, bucking,
sun-fishing, weaving—using every device of the ‘bad’ horse to unseat or destroy
its rider. Half-fainting, but clinging desperately to the saddle, was a young
girl, her face white beneath the tan, and her red-gold hair in a cloud round
her head. It was obvious that her strength was nearly spent, and that she would
be thrown and savaged by the maddened beast. The new hand acted without
hesitation. Running swiftly forward, he made a sudden spring at the horse’s
head, and avoiding the flying forefeet by a miracle, gripped the reins by the
bit.

 
          
Instantly
the brute tried to rear, with the intention of falling backwards, but the man’s
iron strength pulled the head down, though it was all he could do to keep his
footing. A quick
snatch,
and his right hand closed
over and gripped the nostrils of the animal. It screamed with rage, and the
great teeth clashed in a savage attempt to bite. But the clutch tightened, and,
subdued for the moment, the horse snood quivering.

 
          
“Lift
her down, Larry,’
came
the crisp command. No sooner
had the cowboy got the half-senseless girl clear than Green, releasing the grip
of his right hand, leapt into the empty saddle. This fresh outrage stirred the
animal to an instant renewal of activity. It commenced bucking with redoubled
fury, swapping ends, and employing, as Larry phrased it, ‘all the old tricks,
an’ some new ones,’ in its endeavor to injure the man on its back. The trio of
onlookers watched the struggle with bated breath.

 
          
“He’s
a shore-enough killer, boss,’ said the cowboy.

 
          
“That
man knows his business,’ replied Old Simon, his face pale yet with the fear he
had felt for his daughter. The maddened horse was now leaping and twisting with
a speed and suddenness which almost baffled the sight, yet still the rider kept
his seat. His lean face, jaw grimly set, snapped back with each jolt, but the
cruel bit, jammed to the back of the animal’s mouth by arms of steel, prevented
it from getting its head down. As though realizing this, the horse suddenly
stood straight up on its hind legs. In another second it would have been on its
back and the rider crushed to death, but, as Old Simon had said, the man knew
his business. Down between the creature’s ears crashed the loaded end of the
quirt, with a force that jarred the brute almost into sensibility. Another
attempt met with the same treatment, and, with a sharp scream of pain and rage,
the horse darted for the open plain. The rancher turned to the girl, who, pale
and shaky, was now somewhat recovered.