Robber's Roost (1989) (17 page)

Smoky was lighting a cigarette, not in the least perturbed, but his eyes had a hard, steely gleam. Brad Lincoln sat back on the rail, eying the chief with a sardonic grin. Mac appeared more than usually ghoulish; Bridges and Sparrowhawk Latimer betrayed extreme nervousness.

"Howdy, Jim!" spoke up Smoky.

"Hello, men! What's the mix? Am I in or out?" returned Jim, sharply.

"I reckon you're in," replied Slocum. "Hank is the only one thet's out. . . . Hyar, Jim, ketch this." He drew a dark-green bundle from a bulging pocket and tossed it to Jim, so quickly that it struck Jim in the chest. But he caught it on the rebound--a large heavy roll of greenbacks tied with a buckskin thong.

"Yours on the divvy, Jim," went on Smoky. "Don't count it now.

There's a heap of small bills inside, an' if you untie them hyar there'll be a mess. But it's a square divvy to the last dollar."

The denomination of the bill on the outside was one hundred. The roll would not go inside his vest or hip pocket, and it took force to put it in his side pocket.

"That's a hefty roll, Smoky, for a man to get for nothing," observed Jim, dubiously. "But the boss doesn't look particularly happy about it."

Jim then noticed that a roll of bills, identical with the one he had just received, lay on the floor.

"---- ---- ---- ----! You double-crossed me!" burst out Hays, at length.

"Wal, thet's accordin' to how you look at it," retorted Slocum.

"You wasn't with us when you ought to 'ave been. We couldn't ride forty miles every day to talk with you. Things came up at Grand Junction. We seen some of Heeseman's outfit. Shore as hell they're onto us, or will be pronto. So we jest took a vote, an' every damn one of us stood for one big drive instead of small drives. An' we made it. We was ten days drivin' thet bunch of stock, in the saddle night an' day, half starved to death. Your buyers swore they was short of money an' would pay twelve dollars a head. Talk about robbers! Wal, I took thet an' said I liked it. . . . Now, boss, there're the cards face down, an' you can like them or lump them."

"I'm lumpin' them, Smoky Slocum. . . . An' I've shot a man for less!"

"Shore. But I can't see you shootin' me. I wasn't to blame, I tell you. We took a vote."

"Hell! You disobeyed orders."

"Put it up to Jim, hyar. He's most a stranger to us an' he won't play no pards. . . . What do you say, Jim?"

Thus appealed to, Jim made a serious matter of it and addressed Hays point-blank.

"Smoky's right. If you meant to clean out Herrick, that was the way to do it."

"Aw--shore, you'd side with them."

"I wouldn't do anything of the kind, if I thought they were wrong," retorted Jim, angrily. Here was a chance to inflame Hays that he jumped at. If the robber could be drawn into a fight, when his own men were against him, the situation for the Herricks could be made easier for the present.

"I make my own deals," snapped the robber.

"Yes, and this one here at Star Ranch is a damn poor one, whatever it is."

"Wal, thet's none of your bizness, Jim Wall," declared Hays, more sharply.

"But it is. What do you think I am? A sucker? If I'm in this outfit, anything you plan and all you plan is my business, same as it's Smoky's and the rest of the outfit."

"You'd better shet up."

"I won't shut up, Hays. Some one has to have the guts to tell you.

And I'm that fellow. There's no hand-out against you in this outfit. I never saw an outfit as loyal to a man as this one is to you. Never heard of a bunch of riders who'd work like dogs while the boss was twiddling his thumbs and talking mysterious."

Hays glared like a mad bull. He dragged his feet up under him and guardedly rose.

"Take care, boss," spoke up Smoky. "Who's runnin' this outfit?" he hissed. "Nobody jest now. I tried to talk sense to you. An' Jim shore IS talkin' sense. Thet guy can talk, Hank. An' you gotta get it in your thick head thet he's talkin' for all of us."

"Who's thet thick skulled? But I'm sorer'n hell. I ain't ready to leave Star Ranch, an' now, by Gawd! I'll have to!"

"Why ain't you ready?" queried Smoky, curiously. "Our work's all done. We've cleaned out the ranch, except for a few thousand head.

We've got the long green. You ought to be tickled to death."

"I'm not through here," replied the robber, righting himself.

"Wal, you ought to be. Thet Heeseman outfit will be after us.

What's the sense of fightin' fer nothin'? This rancher, Herrick, likely has some cash around the house. He pays cash. But, hell;

Hank, you can't rob the man of his spare change. We've done awful good an' we're heeled as never before."

Hays appeared gradually to relax under the cool persuasive arguments of his lieutenant. Jim saw his coveted chance glimmering.

"Smoky, why don't you ask Hays what this mysterious deal is?" queried Jim, sarcastically.

From a cornered lion Hays degenerated into a cornered rat. Jim sank a little in his boots while his upper muscles corded.

"Hank, what'n hell's got into you?" queried Smoky, high-voiced.

"Glarin' at Jim like a trapped coyote. An' me too!"

"Smokey, the boss is up a tree," said Jim, caustically. "He means to rob Herrick, all right. But that's only a blind. It's the girl!"

"Thet gold-headed gurl we seen you drivin' hyar?"

"Yes. Herrick's sister."

"Wal, for Gawd's sake! Haw! Haw! Haw! So thet's what's eatin' you, Hank?"

Hays had reached his limit and probably, but for Smoky's mirth, would have started hostilities. He hesitated, but there was a deadly flare in the eyes he had fixed on Wall.

Smoky got between them. "See hyar, Hank. So thet's the deal? An' you'd do fer pore Jim hyar jest because he's onto you? . . . Wal, if you're so damn keen as thet to draw on somebody, why, make it me. I started this. I dragged Jim into it. An' I'll be ---- if you're goin' to take it out on him."

There was an instant when a touch to the flint would have precipitated fire. Then Hank came back to himself.

"I weaken. Jim's right. Smoky, you're right," he declared, hoarsely. "I'm bull-headed. . . . An' I lost my bull-head over Herrick's sister and the money I could make out of her."

"There. Spoke up like a man," declared Smoky, heartily relieved.

"Why didn't you come thet clean long ago? Neither Jim nor me nor any of us blame you fer admirin' thet gurl. She's a bloomin' rose, Hank. But, hell! air you gettin' dotty in your old age? An' if you'd gone crazy, like you did once, an' dragged her away into the brakes with us, by Gawd! we'd quit you cold."

Hays bent to pick up the roll of bills, which he tossed up and caught as if it were a ball. To Jim Wall's penetrating eye the chief had capitulated for the moment, but he was far from vanquished.

"Happy, how about grub-time?" he called through the door.

"'Most ready, boss."

"Fall to, men. I've got to do some tall thinkin'," he said.

Before they were half finished with their supper Hays entered and sailed his sombrero into a corner. His face was a dark mask.

"We're shakin' the dust of Star Ranch tonight," he said, deliberately. "Pack up an' leave at once. I'll come later. If I don't meet you at Smoky's camp at sunup, I'll meet you shore at midday in thet cedar grove above the head of Red Canyon."

"Good!" ejaculated Smoky.

"Wal, it was about time," added Brad Lincoln. "You'll aim to roost up somewheres till this blows over?"

"Thet's the idee. Smoky, did you remember to pack out them extra supplies I told you to?"

"Yep. We could hole up six months an' not get scurvy."

No one asked any more questions or made any more comments.

Whatever they thought about Hays' peculiar way of leading his band they kept to themselves. Jim Wall was not greatly relieved; still, he concluded that Hays must abandon any plot he might have concocted toward Herrick's sister. To be sure, he would take the bull by the horns this last night, and attempt to rob Herrick. But that latter possibility did not worry Jim particularly. The young woman had just had a valuable lesson. She would not be easy to surprise or take advantage of. At any rate, whatever was in Hays' mind, Jim could not further risk alienating him or his men. Jim would have to ride out with them. If he stayed behind to spy upon Hays or frustrate any attempt he might make to call upon the Herricks, he would have to kill Hays. He did not mind that in the least, but he did not care to go riding it alone in this unknown country, with Smoky and the others hunting for him.

"Pack up fer me, somebody," said Hays. "I'll keep watch outside.

We shore don't want to be surprised by Heeseman the last minit."

Dusk was mantling the valley when Jim went out. Under the bench the shadows were dark. From the shelter of the pines he looked for Hays, expecting to find him standing guard. But the robber was not on the porch. He was stalking to and fro along the brook, and he was no more watching for Heeseman than was Jim. His bent form, his stride, his turning at the end of his beat, his hands folded behind his back--all attested to the mood of a gloomy, abstracted, passion- driven man.

Jim cursed under his breath. Here was a situation where, if he gave way to suspicions that might be overdrawn, prompted by his own jealousy rather than facts, he would certainly outlaw himself from Hays' band. Almost he yielded to them. Almost he distrusted his own fears. But he was in love with Miss Herrick and that had biased him. Hank Hays was blackguard enough to do anything to make money out of a woman, but he would scarcely betray his faithful followers. Hays was as loyal to them as they were to him. Honor among robbers! Still, in the case of a magnificent creature like Helen Herrick--

Jim wrenched himself out of sight of the stalking robber. He was not superhuman. He had to make a choice, and he made it, on the assumption that his fears for Helen, surrounded by servants and with her brother, were actually far-fetched, if not ridiculous.

Whereupon Jim repaired to his covert, rolled his bed and made a pack of his other belongings. What to do with the two packages of bills, this last of which was large and clumsy for his pockets, was a puzzle. By dividing the two into four packets he solved it.

Then he carried his effects down to the cabin. All was cheery bustle there. The men were glad to get away from Star Ranch. They talked of the robbers' roost Hays had always promised them, of idle days of eat and drink and gamble, of the long months in hiding.

"Wal, you all ready?" queried Hays, appearing in the doorway.

"Yep, an' bustin' to go."

"On second thought I'd like one of you to stay with me. How about you, Latimer?"

"All right," declared Sparrowhawk.

"This is all right with you, Smoky?"

"Suits us fine. If you ask me, I'd say you'd better keep Jim an' me, too, with you."

"I would if there was any chance of a fight. . . . Take Sparrow's pack-hoss, an' mine, too."

In a few more minutes all the men leaving were mounted. The pack- animals, with packs gray against the darkness, straggled up the trail. Jim tried hard to get a look at Hays' face, but the lights were out and gloom hung thick everywhere.

"Wait at your camp till sunup," said Hays, conclusively. "An' if I'm not there I'll meet you about noon shore at head of Red Canyon."

Without more words or ado Smoky led off behind the pack-horses, and the five riders followed. Once across the brook, all horses took to a brisk trot. Jim Wall looked back. The cabin faded in the gloom under the bench. Not for a mile or more did Jim glance over his shoulder again. Then he saw a bright light on the bench. That was from Herrick's house. He and his sister would be sitting in the living-room, reading or talking. After all, how easy for Hank Hays to corner them there! Jim's reluctance, his uneasiness, would not down. An unfamiliar sensation, like a weight of cold lead in his breast, baffled Jim. He knew he was glad that he would never see Helen Herrick again.

The spring night waxed cold as the hours wore on and the riders took to the slope. When they got up above the valley, out of the gray mists and shadows, the stars shone bright and white. A steady clip-clop of hoofs broke the silence. The riders proceeded in single file and seldom was a word spoken, except to a lagging pack- horse.

About midnight Smoky turned the pack-animals up the slope into the woods, and after a mile of rough going emerged into an open canyon head. Water splashed somewhere down over rocks.

"Hyar we air," said Smoky, making leather creak as he wearily slid off. "Throw things an' git to sleep. I'll stand first guard."

Evidently the horses were not to be turned loose. Nevertheless, Jim put hobbles on Bay. The men spoke in subdued voices while they unsaddled and threw the packs. Jim overheard Brad Lincoln offer to bet that Hays would not show up at sunrise. Gradually they quieted down, one by one. Jim unrolled his bed beside a rock and, pulling off his boots and unbuckling his gun-belt, he crawled under the blanket. He was neither tired nor sleepy. White stars blinked down pitilessly and mockingly. Would he ever lie down again without the face of Helen Herrick before him, without the lingering fragrance and softness of her lips on his? But that was something different to remember. He welcomed it. And he lived over everything leading up to that kiss, and after it that fierce attack he had made upon her lips. Lastly came her amazing request to him not to leave Star Ranch, and this abode with him until he fell asleep.