OCR Text |
Show WILLIAM MACLEOD RAINE'S COPYRIGHT WILLIAM MACLEOD RAINE WNU SERVICE CHAPTER X Continued 17 -'I'm armed all right," the bandit sneered. "Don't make any mistake about that. But I may take you up on yore offer. Maybe I can use two guns." Norris ate ravenously. He drank cup after cup of coffee. More than once he went back to the bottle. At last he pushed his chair back. "I reckon you know it was Lee Chiswick's crowd attacked us in Live Oak canyon," he said. "I left in some hurry. Me and Kansas. Did they collect the rest of the boys?" "Mile High got away. But Sid Hunt was killed. Lou they captured." cap-tured." "Too bad about that, Sherm," the other man jeered. "He'll blab, of course, and you'll be in this up to yore neck." The big man looked at him bleakly, bleak-ly, but made no answer In words. "Kansas got away with you, didn't he?" was his comment. A film of wary blankness came over the eyes of the hunted man. "Kansas made it out of the canyon can-yon with me," he said slowly. "A posse jumped us at the old Walsh place and got Kansas. I fought 'em off and lit out with the girl." "Got Kansas. You mean killed him?' "He'll never be any deader," Norris Nor-ris answered callously. "Come clean, Morg. We've got to know just where we're at. Did you do this Chiswick girl any harm' in any way?" The sulky look 'spread over the face of the kidnaper. "Didn't hurt the li'l fool at all, outside of slapping slap-ping her white face once when she got sassy." "What are yore plans?" Howard inquired. "First off, I aim to dress my wounds and bathe my feet in hot water." "Sure, Morg," the fat man said with oily smoothness. "Help yore-self yore-self to anything I have here. You are welcome to whatever I've got." Norris leered at him. "I'll bet you feel like I was your prodigal son. . A fatted calf wouldn't be near good enough for me." His host decided not to put the welcome on too thick. Morg Norris Nor-ris was not a fool when his passions were not involved. "You can have it straight, Morg, since you ask for it," he retorted brusquely. "You've played yore hand like a damn fooL I was hoping hop-ing you wouldn't show up here, but would slip across the line to Mexico. Well, you're here. There's nothing I can do but give you a lift on yore way. Right now all the passes will be watched. You wouldn't have a dead man's chance . of getting through unless you had all the luck in the world. Question is, where do you aim to hole up? They will watch Tail Holt the way a cat does a mouse-hole. Even now someone some-one may know you're here." "Only Sherm Howard, and of course he wouldn't give me away," Norris said derisively. "Sure nobody saw you come in?" "Sure. While I think of it, Sherm, I'll take that other gun you promised prom-ised me." The slitted eyes stabbed into those of the older man. For a barely perceptible instant Howard hesitated. He had a suspicion suspi-cion Morg was not armed. If so, he could be killed now with no risk. The man had become a menace. It would be well to get rid of him. He could use just now the credit that would come to him for rubbing out the desperado. But he could not do it He found he had not the sheer nerve to draw and pump lead, not with the killer's gaze on him and his hand close to where the butt of a revolver might lie inside 1 his vest. "Glad to give it to you," Howard said in his cheerful voice of false heartiness. "You'll find it in the tray of the trunk there. It's a good gun too. Throws just a mite high, but you'll make allowance for that." "You get it for me, Sherm," the visitor urged. "You know just where it is." Howard got the gun. He handed it to Norris, who broke it and made sure the chambers were loaded. "Much obliged, Sherm," the outlaw out-law said, mockery in his voice. "I can sure use this. Haven't had a gun in my hand since those skunks jumped me at Wild Horse." The fat man made the best of it he could. He said promptly: "I'm not dumb, Morg. Knew all the time you didn't have a cutter. Trouble with you is you're so damned suspicious. suspi-cious. Why wouldn't I let you have a gun when you're up against it? You don't think straight." "You'd bust a trace to help me, wouldn't you, Sherm?" the killer jeered. "Personally, far as I'm concerned, con-cerned, you can go to hell yore own way. Morg," Howard told him bluntly. blunt-ly. "But I stand by my crowd, and you're one of the gang, even if you do wear out our patience. You can't stay here, of course. Everybody in town comes and goes to this house, as you know. Where do you aim to hole up till you can slip across the border?" "I won't worry you about that," Norris said with a cynical grin. "If you are a Good Samaritan to me while I'm here that will about let you out for right now." "I don't care where you hide," the older man replied. "Nothing to me. Go to the L C ranch and stay with the Chiswicks if you've a mind to. Point is, when they crowd me, I'd like to make sure I'm giving them the wrong steer." "Sure. You'd hate to see them collect me. But don't worry about it. They won't." The outlaw got a basin, poured hot water into it from the kettle, and reduced this to the proper temperature. All the time he watched his host out of the corner cor-ner of his eyes. "But there's one thing you can do for me, Sherm, since you're so anxious to help. I'm about out of mazuma. I'll take a small loan if you can spare it." Howard took his time to answer. Money was his god. To part with it unless he saw a chance of getting it back with interest was a positive pain to him. He could read Norris like a book. The fellow was sneering sneer-ing at him, but back of this lay a threat. His request was an order. "Haven't got much here, Morg, but what I have is yours," the big man said. "Ten dollars or even twenty " "Wouldn't be of any use to me," Norris said coolly. "I'll take five hundred." "Five hundred!" Howard stared at him. "You're loading me, Morg. In! mW tl AC Mile nigh's forty-five came into action. You know I haven't got anything like that in the house." "You'd better have it. Don't try to fool me, Sherm. I know you." The narrowed eyes were glittering dangerously. Howard knew he had to make a choice. He must either pay or fight. For a moment he played with the idea of shooting it out. Reluctantly he gave this up. Morg was a dead shot. From a coffee-pot in the cupboard he drew out a roll of bills. He counted five hundred and pushed the money across the table. There was about fifty dollars left. With his evil grin Norris mentioned men-tioned that it was more blessed to give than to receive. "Pay you when Jay Gould sends me a million," mil-lion," he added cheerfully. He busied himself doctoring his wounds and taking care of his feet. Before he left he gave Howard instructions, in-structions, a purring threat in his voice. "You haven't seen me, Sherm. You don't know where I am. It wouldn't be healthy for you to get busy rustling a posse to take after me. Understand?" Coldly Howard answered: "No use trying to help you, Morg. You don't know how to appreciate kind treatment." "If I got any from you, I'd sure keep my eyes skinned till I found out why," the man on the dodge cut back. He backed to the door and stopped there for a last word of advice. "I'll stick around a few minutes outside. Don't move from yore chair for half an hour. Just take it easy and see if you can beat the solitaire game." Presently the door closed behind him. Howard sat in the chair as he had been advised. He was busy thinking, think-ing, and his thoughts all pointed to one conclusion. Norris was too dangerous dan-gerous a man to let live. CHAPTER XI Morgan Norris closed the door of the Howard house and ran through the garden to a back street. Before Be-fore moving into the open road he glanced up and down it to make sure nobody was in sight. Swiftly he went up the road until he came to a path crossing the vacant space used by the town for a baseball ground. This he followed. Behind the plate were two or three adobe houses belonging to Mexicans. He wound around these and came to the rear door of the Golden Nugget. He did not enter the gambling-house, gambling-house, but crept along one of the walls until he could look through a window and see what was going on inside. The sight of that room gave him an acute nostalgia. He had been one of the king-pins there for many months. He had ruffled It with the best of them. Fifty times he had cantered into town with some boon companion and strolled in to drink, loaf, or play the wheel. Sick and weary as he was, nothing would have pleased him more than to drop in there and relax. But he dared not show his face. The Golden Nugget was closed to him forever. When he had run away with Ruth Chiswick, he had put himself beyond the pale. If he were to open the door and walk in now a dozen cold, hostile faces would stare at him, and at the right moment mo-ment bullets would crash into his body as they had into that of Wild Jim Pender. Howard had been right The thing he had done had hurt all the Tail Holt outlaws. If they got the chance they would square themselves by planting him in Boot Hill. He crept along the wall toward Main street. From this spot he had fired the shot that had wounded Lee Chiswick only a few weeks ago. Then he had been riding the top wave, a leader among the reckless, lawless cowboys of the vicinity. Now he was a fugitive, every man's hand against his. A poor broomtail stolen in the hills had brought him to town, but he intended to leave on a better mount. That was why he had ventured ven-tured so close to the heart pf the town. There were sure to be horses in front of the Golden Nugget. A half a dozen of them stood at the hitchrack. His eyes went up and down the street. A few people were in view, two or three of them lounging in front of saloons, one or two others moving briskly toward some destination. Norris stepped to the hitchrack to choose a mount. To him there came the sound of hoofs. Three men rode round a corner and drew up at the Golden Nugget. One of them was Curly Connor. Back of a horse Norris crouched, revolver in hand. He guessed that these men had just come back from a fruitless search in the hills for him. They swung stiffly from their saddles as riders do who have not left them for many miles. "Me, I could use a drink," one of them said wearily. The speaker was Mile High. He tied the rein with a slip-knot and turned toward the Golden Nugget. As he did so his glance stopped abruptly. He was looking into the glittering eyes of someone standing back of a horse. "Goddlemighty, it's Morg," he broke out. "Right, first guess," Norris said evenly, not raising his voice. "Don't monkey with yore hardware, any of you, unless you want to go out in smoke." Mile High said bitterly: "You killed Kansas, you double-crossing devil." "So I did," the bad man jeered. "And I'm still on the shoot, Mile High. Roll right along and get that drink, with yore arms down." Stepping swiftly to the left for a better view of the man, Curly dragged out his revolver. Two guns blazed, one of them that of Connor. With a ribald yell of triumph Norris Nor-ris vaulted to the saddle. Mile High's forty-five came into action, but the horse was plunging at the feel of the spur. Again Norris fired, his mount still in the air. An instant in-stant later he was dashing into the darkness, crouched low in the seat. "Rout the boys out of the Golden Nugget, Jim," Curly said excitedly. "Get after him immediate! He got nje." "Bad, Curly?" asked Mile High. "In the shoulder. I'll make the riffle all right, but I don't reckon I can ride with you." The lank puncher picked his hat out of the dust. There were two little holes in the crown. "The son-of-a-gun sure gave me a haircut. Been one inch lower he would of collected me. Better get inside and have the boys look after you, Curly." "Yes," agreed the black-headed man. "I'll be all right when I'm fixed up. Get fresh horses. Mile High. That rapscallion don't aim to pick no daisies on the way." "Curly was right. The fugitive had already left the road and turned up a gulch trail leading into the hills. If there had been any room for doubt as to how he stood at Tail Holt there was none left now. His roaring gun had cut down the most popular man in town. He had seen Curly stagger from the impact of the bullet As soon as possible he must get out of the country. Until that time he must lie hidden. Old Man Haskins would take care of him for a price. That was one of the reasons he had been forced' to hold up Sherm Howard. Nobody did anything for nothing, the bandit reflected bitterly. Not when you were down on your luck, with the cards stacked against you. He would have to pay Pete well for protection. Norris rode steadily till late at night He was in a vile humor. His swollen feet tortured him. The clout on the head, a souvenir from Jeff Gray, still pained at times. From lack of sleep he was dead tired. The cabin of the nester was dark when he rode up to it, but a hound dog filled the night with its barking. bark-ing. A man came to the door. He opened it only an inch or two. "Who is it?" a piping voice demanded. de-manded. , "Lemme in, Pete. It's Morg Nor-'ris." Nor-'ris." The hillman hesitated. "I ain't exactly fixed for visitors, Morg. That's a fact sure enough." He lowered his squeaky tones to a whisper. whis-per. "I ain't alone. I done got someone some-one here." The hunted man was taken aback. He had counted on Haskins being alone. Few came up to this neck of the woods. "Who you got here?" Norris asked. "Why, I don't rightly know his name," Haskins said. "A fellow from Texas." Morg swung from the aaddle and walked close to the other. "I'm listenin'," Pete," he said, and his voice dripped menace. "Is this some guy sent up to get me?" Haskins was a big, unkempt, slovenly slov-enly man. He was of middle age, large, with a deep barrel chest from which one would have expected the roar of a bull. "Jumpin' Jehoshaphat, no!" The high falsetto registered excitement. "Don't start lookin' for trouble, Morg. This is a bird sent up by Sherm Howard. He's on the dodge." Someone inside the cabin joined the talk. "Who is it, Pete?" "A friend, Clint. Wants to stay with me a spell. He got into a kinda jam. Name is Norris." "The fellow they're after?" "Yes." "What's all the powwow about? Why don't you bring him in?" (TO BE CONTINUED) |