OCR Text |
Show THE STORY SO FAR: Ellen Carey, daughter of the postmaster. Is interested In two men dashing Jeff Brand, sup. posedly a rustler, and Cal Terry, manager man-ager of the big Diamond Reverse B ranch, whom rustlers and small cattle- "Better sit down, gentlemen," Calhoun Cal-houn said. Brand looked at him, hostility in his hard eyes. "I'll stand." The ranch manager's gaze met his coldly. "Better take a chair, Mr. Brand. This isn't a social occasion. After we get through with our business busi-ness you can shoot at me just as properly as you could have before!" "Is it straight goods that Black Yeager has been killed?" blurted out Jeff. "Yes. That's why I sent for you." "Who killed him?" "I don't know. It looks as though he had been killed by a man supposed sup-posed to be his friend." Brand sat down. "All right. Spill it. I'll listen." Calhoun Terry told the story of the attack on him. CHAPTER XVI INSTALLMENT EIGHT men dislike. Three rusUers had been shot from the back; in retaliation Lee Hart, a brother of one of the victims, takes a shot Irom the back at Terry. Now a fourth man, Black Veager, is shot under peculiar circumstances. Two "Lemme see that note the fellow pinned to Black's coat," Jeff said. Calhoun took it from his pocket-book pocket-book and handed it to the rustler. Brand studied it for several minutes. min-utes. "I've seen writing like that somewhere, but I can't just remember remem-ber when," he mentioned to Carey. "Look how he makes his s's, with the tails flying away." The Bar 55 owner shook' his head. "Can't prove it by me. Maybe I've seen , it, but I wouldn't remember it." Brand put the note in his pocket. "Mind if I keep it?" he said to Terry Ter-ry insolently. His manner suggested suggest-ed that he intended to keep it whether wheth-er the foreman minded or not. "Not at all. Nate Hart may want to keep it, but you fix that up with him." Terry's voice was scornfully polite. On the way back to the ranch Carey Car-ey rode beside Terry and Brand with the two cowboys. "I reckon we have come to the same opinion as you did, Cal," the man from Black Butte told his companion. com-panion. "What opinion?" Terry inquired. "That this killing was done by a cattle detective hired by some of the big outfits." "That's my opinion, is it?" the Diamond Reverse B manager asked sarcastically. "I think so. It explains the facts better than anything else I can figure fig-ure out. My notion is you wanted to i put us on our guard against this fellow." "Even if I was employing him." "I don't believe you are in this at all, but I expect you can give a good guess who hired this killer." Terry said tonelessly, "I don't know anything about it." "Well, I'll leave it there, Cal," Lane Carey concluded. "A winlf is rifle shots had been Bred at Terry while he was riding and immediately after that two revolver shots were heard. Black Yeager had been killed by a companion. Terry sends for Lane Carey and Jeff Brand. "Shot?" demanded the crook-nosed Turley. "You mean, on purpose?" "Yep. Some of the riders of his ranch heard the shooting and came a-running. They found him dead. He had his six-gun out and had fired it twice. Fellow had sent a revolver bullet right spang through the heart:" Brand asked a question. "Was Mc-Faddin Mc-Faddin shot from behind?" "Cuth Rogers says not." answered Alford. "He saw the body. Says it musta been a duel. The bullet came from directly in front and there was no brush for several hundred yards." "That's funny," commented Turley. Tur-ley. "Looks like it may have been one of his own men bumped him. They got into a quarrel, maybe." "The story is that it wasn't one of the Flying V C men did it," Alford said. "They are all accounted for. And the man was tracked for several sev-eral miles." "Something queer about this," Turley cut in, frowning. "I don't get it. If the fellow who did it was one of our friends, say he wouldn't of shot it out in the open that-away. He- would of waited to get a crack at him from the brush." "Would he?" Brand asked. "Maybe "May-be not. Maybe he wanted to show the big outfits that we had the nerve to do our killing in the open." Ellen felt a fluttering heart beat against her ribs. She was watching Jeff. He had spoken carelessly, but in his slurring drawl she had read an undertone implacable and deadly. dead-ly. She knew, as well as one could know without evidence to back it, that he had been the other party to that duel. "The way you talk sounds, dumb to me, Jeff," snarled Lee Hart. "What you expect a fellow to do? Buck didn't have any chance, did he? Not on yore tintype. They rubbed him out when he wasn't expecting ex-pecting it. Why shouldn't I do the same with one of them?" Hard-eyed, Brand looked at Hart. "I'm not telling you what you ought to do. I don't give a damn. What I'm pointing out ' is how a white man would want to settle a difficulty." dif-ficulty." Dark blood mantled Hart's flat-featured flat-featured face. "If- you claim I'm not a white man," he blustered. A faint expression of contempt kindled in the narrowed eyes of Jeff. "I wouldn't be interested," he said, his voice insolent and dry. Jeff Brand said bluntly, "That's your story. Sounds likely, doesn't it? Black and this friend of his were trying to drygulch you, then suddenly the side-kick turns on Black and blasts him. I reckon almost al-most anybody would believe that." Carey leaned back in his chair. It was not a convincing story, but that was one reason for not rejecting reject-ing it too hurriedly. "Don't get on the prod, Jeff," the owner of the Box 55 suggested. "Mr. Terry could have buried the body if he had been minded that way. He didn't have to send for us and tell a yarn so improbable that I reckon it must be true." "How could it be true?" demanded demand-ed Brand angrily. "Why would two guys waylay this fellow and then one of them gun the other? It don't make sense. Who was the bird that did it? Have you got any friends who would go out with you to do a job and right when you were doing it pour slugs into you?" "I hope not," Carey said. "But I'm not Black Yeager. He was a tough, surly hombre, and there might be one of his so-called friends waiting to get a chance at him." "So he rode with Black for a couple cou-ple of hours and didn't crack down on him till he knew there was a witness wit-ness in the, neighborhood to testify against him later maybe. Too thin, Lane. I'm not that easy." The rustler swung round on the Diamond Reverse B manager sharply. sharp-ly. "What was the idea in sending for me?" The frosty blue eyes of Terry met those of the outlaw steadily. "The idea is to have you examine the ground and see for yourself. I don't enjoy the reputation of being a man who kills from ambush." "Queer you have a habit of being around when these murders take place. You're mighty unlucky, or else . . ." "Did you bring the body in, Mr. Terry?" Carey asked. "No, I thought it better for you to see it on the ground." He added: "Two of my riders are camping out in the grove to keep off wild animals. ani-mals. We can't read sign till morning. morn-ing. You had better turn in and get some sleep. We'll have breakfast break-fast early and take off by daybreak." day-break." "That's good medicine," Carey agreed. "How about it, Jeff?" "No obligations on either side, Mr. Brand," his host said. "As I mentioned men-tioned before, a strictly business transaction. There will still be an open season on me." Jeff took his sarcasm sulkily, but be made no protest. Brand and Carey followed Terry to the dining-room. Jim Wong had set two places. There were sandwiches sand-wiches on a platter and a pot of coffee cof-fee beside some cups. A bottle of whiskey and glasses were on the sideboard. "You've had a long ride in the rain," the foreman said. "Jim Wong fixed you up a little i-efreshment. I'll have your horses looked after while you eat." He left his two guests to themselves. them-selves. "Terry is no more guilty than I am," Carey said. "At least 1 don't think so. But we'll know more about this tomorrow." Lane leaned forward and spoke, almost in a murmur. "Has it ever struck you, Jeff, that the big cow outfits may have stock detectives right in our midst?" "You mean some of their own cowboys." "No, I don't. Somebody closer to the rustlers. One who sees them of-tener of-tener and maybe rides around with them. A nester, perhaps." Brand thought it over. "Might be so. If I could prove it on one I would sure give him a quick ticket to Kingdom Come. But what has that got to do with this affair?" "Might have nothing to do with it. Might have a lot. A spy like that who could be hired to give away his friends would not stop at murder from ambush." The three men breakfasted early and were on their way before sunup. sun-up. They took with them a pack-horse pack-horse to bring back the body. During the night the rain had spent itself : and there was now not a cloud in the : sky. The Diamond Reverse B riders i Joined them at the edge of the grove. 1 "Tracks of the horses are still showing," one of them said. "I was i scared the rain might wash them 1 out, but it didn't come down hard enough." Carey and Brand examined the body. It told a story of unexpected death. The powder burn on the tace showed that the revolver had been fired very close to the victim. Ellen had work to do at the house, and as soon as she had turned over the office to her father she left. Jeff Brand was waiting outside. He rose to join her, reaching his feet in one swift movement of rippling ease. "You're certainly the workingest girl I ever saw," he told her. "There's a proverb about that. All work and no play makes Jeff a dull boy." "So you think I'm dull," she said. "No, no, I'm dull when you work too long. Have you ever thought that maybe in sixty or seventy years we may be too old to play? We have to leave some time for love and kisses, you know." She was not up to nonsense today. It was not worth trying, not while she had this queer feeling of suffocation suffo-cation in her breast. "Why do you go out of your way to insult men who are dangerous men like Lee Hart?" she asked. He looked at her, surprised. "So you heard?" "I couldn't help hearing." "You pack a lot in one little question," ques-tion," he said. "First off, I didn't go but of my way to insult Lee Hart. I wasn't thinking about him when I spoke, though he is sure welcome wel-come to take it personal if he likes. For the fact is, I can't stand the fellow. He's low-down mean. As to his being dangerous, I don't reckon he is long as he is in front of you." He spoke carelessly, as if the matter mat-ter were not important. "You look to me like a man who is dooming himself," she said soberly, so-berly, with a kind of proud defiance. defi-ance. "You frighten me, as if as if you were walking on your own grave." "Would you feel badly if you knew I were?" he asked in a low voice. She did not look at him. But the blood was beating stormily through her heart. "I would feel sorry for any young man condemned to death," she said. "I see," he said dryly. "Yore Christian duty. I would want a girl to give me more than that." She turned on him. courage in her eyes like a banner "What would you expect to give her in return?" she demanded. "If she was the right girl I might give her a lover." "A lover," she said scornfully. He surprised himself in his answer. an-swer. "A husband, then." It was the last thing he had expected to say. "That would be a fine gift," she told him. "What kind of a girl could keep step with you? Do you think a wife would be happy waiting at home in terror for fear you were being shot or hanged?" "Aren't men supposed to settle down when they marry?" "You aren't even thinking of it. Your mind is full of revenge and hatred." Excitement was carrying her much farther than she had intended. in-tended. It had lit an explosive spark in her breast. "Where were you yesterday afternoon? What were you doing? But no don't tell mel I don't want to know." She flung out a hand in a gesture of hopelessness and turned away, running up the porch steps swiftly into the house (TO HE CONTINUED! "Terry is no more guilty than J I am," Carey said. as good as a nod to a blind horse. I've a notion you don't like this state of affairs any better than I do." "1 don't," the ranch superintendent superintend-ent agreed. "I hate being blamed for it when I'm not guilty. I would like the word passed out that if I ever help to get rid of cattle thieves it will be in the open." "I've already told the boys that." CHAPTER XVII Black Yeager was buried at Round Top, and his funeral was the largest ever held in the county. The feeling feel-ing was very bitter, and it was almost al-most unanimous against the big ranches among those at the graveyard. grave-yard. Even the people who did not justify rustling resented this highhanded high-handed destruction of suspected men who had not been found guilty by a jury. Among the rustlers themselves, them-selves, a mounting fear lay back of their furious rage. A killer was loose in the land, and he might strike at any one of them next. Several men without property slipped away quietly, not advertising their destination. They crossed the line into Montana or Colorado, or eastward into one of the Dakotas. "Bart Dennison pulled his freight last night," Lee Hart said. "Left on the train for Cheyenne." Jeff Brand's laughter was brittle. "Some folks scare easily," he said. Through the window his words reached Ellen. She had no doubt he was a thief, but she applauded the spirit of his defiance. What he had told her about Pete Tolman was even more true of himself. H had lived fully, physically at least. There was in him a deep capacity for enjoyment. en-joyment. But though mere existence exist-ence was a delight to him, he would not buy it at too big a price. He would not run away. He would stay and fight it out to a finish. "I dunno," Turley said. "All right to fight back when you know what to fight. But it's too late when you got a bullet in the belly. I'm not blaming Bart none. When I'm out on the hills I feel right goosy myself." "If a fellow hasn't got sand in his craw he's got no business living liv-ing here," Brand retorted, scorn etching his voice. "He'd better get a job at a livery stable washing buggies bug-gies and watering horses." A rider was dismounting at the hitch-rack. They watched him walk across the dusty road to join them. The man was Roan Alford. "Cuth Rogers got in from Elk Creek an hour or so ago," he mentioned. men-tioned. "Says Jim McFaddin of the Flying VC was shot yesterday." |