Shoot-out at Split Rock (8 page)

BOOK: Shoot-out at Split Rock
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"Shore we will," Sudden rejoined.

All the rest of the outfit were there with the exception of Truthful, of whom no one had any tidings save that he had been with the herd when it began to run. The other men, unable to stay the tide of terrified brutes, contented themselves with following bunches of them and, when the scare died out, driving them back. In this way they had salvaged over four hundred head and a dozen horses.

At the camp itself they found Sandy and Peg-leg sitting by the wagon with rifles. The women were inside with the invaUd, who listened silently to his foreman's report.

"We've got around eight hundred an' I guess we can search out enough others to go on," Jeff concluded.

The old man glared at him. "Yo're damn right we'll go on," he rasped. "Get this, an' get it straight; I said I'd make this drive an' I'll do it, if there's on'y one blasted cow to take ioto Kansas."

"That goes with me, an' with all of us, I reckon," the foreman said quiedy, and went on to tell of Sudden's suggestion to move camp.

"Sounds like a good idea," the cattleman agreed. He looked at the cowboy. "Young feUa, I figured you saved my life—though I shore thought you'd gone loco. That lead pill went in just where my head had been, an' I'm thanlin' you. What had Lasker against me, Jeff?"

"We've bin framed, Sam; they just waited their chance. Jim got one of 'em."

He related the passing of the unknown rustler and the old man's eyes glowed with savage approval

Six

With the cattle and camp safely hidden in the arroyo, which two men could guard, the remainder of the outfit were free to scour the surrounding country in search of the scattered Icmghoms. Frequently a steer, having regained its freedom, would fight to retain it, and had to be roped and thrown before it would bow to the inevitable. Despite the difficulties, additions to the herd dribbled in and with each one the foreman's face grew less somber. On the fifth day, however, some of the searchers returned empty-handed, though still nearly half the cattle were missing.

"They musta got away with over a thousand head, reckonin' they'd lose some we ain't found," Jeff said. "We might as well push on; we won't find any more."

"Hold on for another day," Sudden advised, "an' let me an' Sandy have Jed an' Dumpy tomorrow."

The foreman agreed without question; he was beginning to realize that this cool, capable young cowboy usually had a reason for anything he said or did.

On the following morning the four men set out. Jed, as ever, had his grumble: "Waste o' time. Betcha we don't git a cow a-piece."

Sandy grinned at his friend. "Don't teU 'em,*' he whispered.

"Shore not," Sudden said. "Besides, the nest may be empty; the joke would be on us then."

It had been on the first day that the pair of them, returning after a fruitiess foray through a broken patch of country some twelve miles from camp, halted abruptly on

the edge of a wide swathe of cattle tracks. The fact that the beasts had been bunched together, and the prints of shod horses alongside, told that they had been driven. The S-E men followed the trail to a small, hidden valley, rock-rimmed, the narrow entrance to which was masked by a great boulder and further defended by a rude fence of poles lashed together with rawhide, two of which could be moved to permit passage. Riding through, they found a grass-covered basin in which some hundreds of cows were feeding. There appeared to be no one in charge, and they had no difficulty in getting near enough to read the brand on the nearest beast.

"S-E," Sandy had cried exultantly. "Jim, our luck has shorely changed; here's a gather that'll make Jeffs eyes stick out like they was on stalks. Do we round 'em up?"

Sudden shook his head. "Here's how I figure it," he explained. "Rogue's men couldn't hold the herd no more'n we could. They're combin' the country too an' bringin' 'em here as they gather 'em. I'm bettin' that if we call again in a few days' time we'U find twice as many."

Sandy let out a whoop. "Jim, yo're a great man," he said. "The notion o' lettin' them skunks collect cows for us hits me where I live."

So they had left the valley undisturbed and for the ensuing days had ridden in other directions. It had been a gamble, and they were now on their way to learn if they had lost or won. If the rustlers had removed their plunder ,..

They reached the spot, and leaving Sandy on guard outside, the others rode into the valley. One glance told Sudden that he had guessed correctly; the herd had more than doubled; roughly he estimated it at nearly a thousand head, with a sprinkling of horses. His companions yelped gleefully.

"Seems we might git a cow a-piece after all, Jed," the fat man remarked. "Wish I'd took that bet. Why didn't you take him up, Jim?"

"They might not 'a' been here," Sudden smiled. "We'll have one fine job handlin' 'em; I didn't expect so many."

"What about sendin' to Jeff for help?" Jed asked.

"Too risky—^the rustlers may be showin' up any mo-

ment. Well go while the goin's good. Hell! What's that mean?"

Two reports in quick succession shattered the still air and aU three men raced for the exit. Fifty yards from the entrance to the valley a man lay spawling in the sand and Sudden's heart skipped a beat. Then he saw that the pony sniffin g curiously at the body was not the one Sandy was riding. The man, an evil-faced ruflBan whom Sudden did not recognize, had been shot through the throat; his right hand still gripped a heavy revolver, one chamber of which was empty.

"He tried to git Sandy an' was got hisself," Jed remarked. "But where in blazes is Sandy?"

Sudden had been studying the ground. "Gone after the other," he explained. "Yeah, there was a couple of *em, an' il the second gets clear it's goin' to make things plenty awkward for us." He looked at the brand on the dead man's pony. "That's one of our bosses, an' they've fetched us a few more cows."

He pointed to half a dozen longhoms, contentedly grazing a short distance away. A little later, a rider leading a saddle horse topped a nearby ridge of rock and came toward them; it was Sandy. There was no need to ask a question, his pale face and the grim set of his lips told the story. He had slain two men, outlaws, it is true, found with stolen stock in their possession, which in those days meant death; moreover, both had tried to kiU him, but nevertheless ... Sudden knew how he was feeling and sent the other men to begin gathering the herd. Sandy supphed the information he would not ask for.

"I had to do it, Jim," he said harshly. "They rode up outa that draw an' the feUa lyin' there pulled on me without any palaver, an' missed. When I downed him, the other bolted. I knowed he'd gotta be stopped. My bronc was better'n his, I could 'a' shot him down from behind but I gave him his chance." He showed the buUet holes in the crown of his hat. "He near got me," he added.

"You done a good job," Sudden said sternly. "Know eitiier of 'em?"

"Never seen him afore," Sandy replied, pointing to the man on the ground. "The other was—Ropey."

Sudden's mind went back to the outlaw retreat, saw

again the dark, sneering face of Navajo when his cats-paw had been so completely humiliated. He shrugged his shoulders.

"Well, I ain't mournin'," he said. "C'mon. We've shore got a job o' work ahead. We played in luck, Sandy; that herd's doubled since we first saw it." He thought a moment, and added, "What you do with Ropey?"

Sandy looked imcomfortable. "Well, there was a handy hole in the rocks an' I—buried him, Jim," he admitted. "You see, I had knowed him—one time."

To his surprise, Sudden agreed. "Good idea," he said. "We'll find another niche for this hombre."

Across the back of his own pony, they carried the dead man into a gully, the hard floor of which would leave no tell-tale hoof marks. Here they found a crevice between two rocks, shd the body in, and piled stones upon it.

"Tough on the buzzards but it can't be helped," Sudden said sardonically when they had completed the job. "This'll get Rogue guessin'. When he discovers the herd is gone an' these jaspers don't show up he'll think his own men is doublecrossin' him. Savvy?"

For the next few hours all four riders were far too busy to think of anything but the work in hand. It was a big bunch for so small a crew, and the catde—loath to leave the peaceful, sheltered valley, made frequent efforts to break back. By the time the arroyo was reached the men were limp, drenched with perspiration, and utterly profane.

They found the foreman and Carol at the entrance to the arroyo, and the little man's slitted eyes widened when he saw the cattle pouring through.

"Christ-opher Columbus!" he ejaculated, remembering just in time that his employer's daughter was present "Whose ranch you bin raidin', Jim?"

But the girl had seen the brand. "They are our own cows, Jeff," she cried.

Sudden told the tale, omitting, however, the removal of the two rusUers. Jeff swore dehghtedly to himself as he listened.

"You shore got nerve, boy," he commented. "Lettin'

them thieves collect our cows for us was one great scheme."

"Seemed fair to me," Sudden smiled. "They scattered 'em."

Jeffs eyes had been busy and as the last of the herd trotted by he slapped his thigh joyously. "Damn near a thousand head," he said. "Why, we won't be more'n three-four hundred shy after all!

"Well be all fixed to take the trail in the momin'," Jeff went on. Sudden's eyebrows rose and he shot a whimsical glance at the sun overhead. The foreman read it. "Yo're thinkin' we oughta start now?" he asked.

"Think it over," the cowboy replied. "We don't know how soon them hombres will discover their loss, but you can bet they won't waste no time high-taUin' it after us— follerin' the cattle won't be no trick at aU, we couldn't blind our tracks. Any lead we can get will be all to the good."

"Yo're damn right," Jeff agreed. "We want to be plenty absent when they arrive. Sandy, go tell the boys we'll be settin' out pronto."

When they were alone. Sudden told of the dead rustlers—concealing the fact that they recognized one of them—and concluding his recital with, "Sandy ain't ad-vertisin' it."

"Natural enough, though some fellas wouldn't talk o* nothin' else," the foreman said. "That was a cute move to hide the remainders, Jim," he continued, admiration in his smiling eyes. "You don't overlook many bets, do you?"

In less than an hour the herd was again on the move, heading away from where they conjectured the rustlers to be encamped. Despite the disaster, cheerfulness reigned. The loss had proved far less than had seemed likely, and the riders, with the optimism bom of their hardy natures, had already transformed the incident into a victory; they had "put one over" the cattle thieves.

Sudden reined in his horse on the top of a broken-backed ridge and surveyed the surrounding scenery; the indentation between his level brows denoted that he was not entirely pleased with what he saw. Since the stampede and the events which followed it, day after day had passed in wearying but satisfactory monotony.

For the last day or so Sudden had been wondering whether, in their search for easy going, they had veered too much to the west. Now, it was clear that the surface of the prairie was changing, the grass was becoming sparse and sand was taking its place. Ahead of him, a giant cactus, its candelabrahke arms curving upward, stood hke a warning sentinel. Far away, almost on the horizon, a swarm of black dots moved slowly nearer. He rode back to the herd.

"Desert ahead," he said briefly. "Ain't drifted onto the Staked Plain, have we?"

The question put a perturbed expression on the foreman's lined features. Llano Estacado, or the Staked Plain, so-called from that early day when posts with buffalo skulls atop to guide those who might follow, had an evil reputation. A desolate and sterile tableland, without water or timber, its scant vegetation consisting of sage, grease-wood, mesquite and cactus. Well might a cattleman shudder at the prospect of taking a herd over that trackless waste of sand.

"Hell, Jim, I can't say," Jeff confessed. "That cussed stampede throwed us right out, an' I dunno nothin' about this blame' country. Mebbe we're on'y on the fringe of it."

"Better swing to the east anyway," Sudden advised. "There's a herd o' buffalo a-comin' an' if our cows get mixed up with it..."

"Shore they ain't bosses?" he asked anxiously.

"No, it's buffalo, an' likely there's redskins not far off," the cowboy rephed.

Jeff gave the necessary instruction to the point men and then rode ahead with Sudden.

When they were satisfied that they could do so safely, they rode after the herd. Jeff bit on an oath; the cattle were floundering through a sea of sand, hummocks, ridges, and long rolling swells stretched out unendingly until they merged with the pale blue of the cloudless sky.

Mile upon mUe under the pitiless sun they crawled, both men and beasts choking in the clouds of dust churned up by thousands of tramping feet. On all sides lay the arid waste of bleached sand.

The cool night air brought some slight mitigation of their sufferings, but instead of being baked they were

nearly frozen. At the first glimmer of grey in the east they arose, shivering, swallowed a scanty breakfast, and set out; the foreman was anxious to get as far as possible before the sun's rays attained their fuU force. The day proved to be a repetition of the preceding, the discomfort intensified by the fact that even the miserable ration of water they had then enjoyed was no longer available; a quart or so, reserved for the invalid and die women, was all that remained. The soft sand, clinging to their feet, made every step an effort. The cowboys, slouched in their saddles, turned dust-rimmed eyes upon the flaming disc in the blue vault above and croaked weird curses beneath the handkerchiefs which covered the lower part of their faces.

By mid-day it was evident the cows could not go much farther. Already a few had fallen and had to be abandoned; the rest stiU staggered weakly on, tongues protruding, sullenly lowing, and many of them nearly blind. The foreman ranged up beside Sudden, who was leading the herd. His voice was little more than a whisper:

BOOK: Shoot-out at Split Rock
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