CHAPTER IX
EAVESDROPPING
Out of the murmur of voices came one that Curly recognized as that ofSoapy Stone, alias You Know Who.
" ... then you'll take the 9:57, Sam...."
After more whispering, "Yep, soon as you hear the first shot ... cover thepassengers...."
The listener lost what followed. Once he thought he heard the name TinCup, but he could not be sure. Presently another fragment drifted to him."...make our getaway and cache the plunder...."
The phonograph lifted up its voice again. This time it was "I love alassie." Before the song was finished there came the sound of shufflingfeet. One of the men in the next stall was leaving. Curly could not tellwhich one, nor did he dare look over the top of the partition to find out.He was playing safe. This adventure had caught him so unexpectedly that hehad not found time to run back to his room for his six-gun. What wouldhappen to him if he were caught listening was not a matter of doubt. Soapywould pump lead into him till he quit kicking, slap a saddle on a broncho,and light out for the Sonora line.
As the phonograph finished unexpectedly--someone had evidently interruptedthe record--the fragment of a sentence seemed to jump at Curly.
" ... so the kid will get his in the row."
It was the voice of Soapy, raised slightly to make itself heard above themusic.
"Take care," another voice replied, and Flandrau would have sworn thatthis belonged to Blackwell.
Stone, who had been sitting on the other side of the table, moved close tothe paroled convict. Between him and Curly there was only the thickness ofa plank. The young man was afraid that the knocking of his heart could beheard.
" ... don't like it," Blackwell was objecting sullenly.
"Makes it safe for us. Besides"--Stone's voice grated like steel raspingsteel, every word distinct though very low--"I swore to pay off LuckCullison, and by God! I'm going to do it."
"Someone will hear you if you ain't careful," the convict protestedanxiously.
"Don't be an old woman, Lute."
" ... if you can do it safe. I owe Luck Cullison much as you do, but...."
Again they fell to whispers. The next word that came to Curly clearly washis own name. But it was quite a minute before he gathered what they weresaying.
"Luck Cullison went his bail. I learnt it this mo'ning."
"The son-of-a-gun. It's a cinch he's a spy. And me wanting you to let himin so's he could hold the sack instead of Sam."
"Knew it wouldn't do, Lute. He's smart as a whip."
"Reckon he knows anything?"
"No. Can't."
"If I thought he did----"
"Keep your shirt on, Lute. He don't know a thing. And you get revenge onhim all right. Sam will run with him and his friends while he's here.Consequence is, when they find the kid where we leave him they'll sureguess Curly for one of his pardners. Tell you his ticket is good as boughtto Yuma. He's a horse thief. Why shouldn't he be a train robber, too.That's how a jury will argue."
Blackwell grumbled something under his breath.
Stone's voice grated harshly. "Me too. If he crosses my trail I'm liableto spoil his hide before court meets. No man alive can play me for asucker and throw me down. Not Soapy Stone."
Once more the voices ran together indistinctly. It was not till Blackwellsuggested that they go get a drink that Curly understood anything more ofwhat was being said.
The outlaws passed out of the little room and strolled forward to thebar.
Curly had heard more than he had expected to. Moreover, as hecongratulated himself, his luck had stood up fine. Nobody in the sunburntterritory felt happier than he did that minute when he struck the goodfresh air of the alley and knew that he had won through his hazardousadventure alive.
The first thing that Flandrau did was to walk toward the outskirts of thetown where he could think it out by himself. But in this little old planetevents do not always occur as a man plans them. Before he reached Arroyostreet Curly came plump against his old range-mate Slats Davis.
The assistant foreman of the Hashknife nodded as he passed. He had helpedCurly escape less than a month before, but he did not intend to stayfriendly with a rustler.
Flandrau caught him by the arm. "Hello, Slats. You're the man I want."
"I'm pretty busy to-day," Davis answered stiffly.
"Forget it. This is more important."
"Well?"
"Come along and take a walk. I got something to tell you."
"Can't you tell it here?"
"I ain't going to, anyhow. Come along. I ain't got smallpox."
Reluctantly Davis fell in beside him. "All right. Cut it short. I've gotto see a man."
"He'll have to wait." Curly could not help chuckling to himself at theevident embarrassment of the other. The impish impulse to "devil" him hadits way. "You're a man of experience, Slats. Ever hold up a train?"
The foreman showed plainly his disgust at this foolishness. "Haven't yousense enough ever to be serious, Curly? You're not a kid any more. In ageyou're a grown man. But how do you act? Talk like that don't do you anygood. You're in trouble good and deep. Folks have got their eyes on you.Now is the time to show them you have quit all that hell raising you havebeen so busy at."
"He sure is going good this mo'ning," Curly drawled confidentially to thescenery. "You would never guess, would you, that him and me had raisedthat crop in couples?"
"That's all right, too. I'm no sky pilot. But I know when to quit.Seemingly you don't. I hear you've been up at Stone's horse ranch. I wantto tell you that won't do you any good if it gets out."
"Never was satisfied till I had rounded up all the trouble in sight.That's why I mentioned this train robbery. Some of my friends are aimingto hold up one shortly. If you'd like to get in I'll say a good word foryou."
Davis threw at him a look that drenched like ice water. "I expect you andme are traveling different trails these days, Curly. You don't mean it ofcourse, but the point is I'm not going to joke with you along that line.Understand?"
"Wrong guess, old hoss. I do mean it."
Davis stopped in his tracks. "Then you've said too much to me. We'll partright here."
"It takes two to agree to that, Slats."
"That's where you're wrong. One is enough. We used to be good friends, butthose days are past. None of us can keep a man from being a durned fool ifhe wants to be one. Nor a scoundrel. You've got the bit in your teeth andI reckon you'll go till there is a smash. But you better understand this.When you choose Soapy Stone's, crowd to run with that cuts out me andother decent folks. If they have sent you here to get me mixed up in theirdeviltry you go back and tell them there's nothing doing."
"Won't have a thing to do with them. Is that it?"
"Not till the call comes for citizens to get together and run them out ofthe country. Or to put them behind bars. Or to string them to acottonwood. Then I'll be on the job."
He stood there quiet and easy, the look in his steady eyes piercingCurly's ironic smile as a summer sun does mackerel clouds in a clear sky.Not many men would have had the courage to send that message to Soapy andhis outfit. For Stone was not only a man killer, but a mean one at that.Since he had come back from the penitentiary he had been lying pretty low,but he brought down from the old days a record that chilled the blood.
Curly sloughed his foolishness and came to the point.
"You're on, Slats. I'm making that call to you now."
The eyes of the two men fastened. Those of Flandrau had quit dancing andwere steady as the sun in a blue sky. Surprise, doubt, wonder, relieffilled in turn the face of the other man.
"I'm listening, Curly."
His friend told him the whole story from the beginning, just as he hadbeen used to do in the old days. And Davis heard it without a word, takingthe tale in quietly with a grim look settling, on his face.
"So he aims to play traitor to young Cullison. The thing is damnable."
"He means to shut Sam's mouth for good
and all. That is what he has beenplaying for from the start, to get even with Luck. He and his gang willget away with the haul and they will leave Sam dead on the scene of thehold-up. There will be some shooting, and it will be figured the boy washit by one of the train crew. Nothing could be easier."
"If it worked out right."
"Couldn't help working out right. That's why Soapy didn't let me in on theproposition. To get rid of one would be no great trouble, but two--well,that's different. Besides, I could tell he was not sure of me. Now he aimsto put me on the stand and prove by me that Sam and he had a quarrel andparted company mighty sore at each other hardly a week before the hold-up.He'll have an alibi too to show he couldn't have been in it. You'll see."
"You wouldn't think a white man could take a revenge like that on hisenemy. It's an awful thing to do in cold blood."
"Soapy is no white man. He's a wolf. See how slick his scheme is. At oneflip of the cards he kills the kid and damns his reputation. He scoresCullison and he snuffs out Sam, who had had the luck to win the girl Soapyfancies. The boy gets his and the girl is shown she can't love another manthan Stone."
"Ever hear the story of French Dan?" asked Slats.
"Not to know the right of it."
"Soapy and Dan trained together in them days and went through a lot ofmeanness as side pardners. One day the Arivaca stage was held up by twomen and the driver killed. In the scrap one of the men had his mask tornoff. It was French Dan. Well, the outlaws had been too damned busy. Folkswoke up and the hills were sprinkled with posses. They ran the fellowsdown and hunted them from place to place. Two--three times they almostnailed them. Shots were exchanged. A horse of one of the fugitives waskilled and they could not get another. Finally one dark night the outlawswere surrounded. The posse lay down in the zacaton and waited for morning.In the night one of them heard a faint sound like the popping of a cork.When mo'ning broke the hunters crept forward through the thick grass.Guess what they found."
Curly's answer was prompt. "Gimme a harder one. There were two men andonly one horse. The only chance was to slip through the line before dayarrived. My guess is that they found French Dan with a little round holein his skull--_and that the bullet making it had gone in from behind_. Myguess also is that the posse didn't find the horse and the other man, justa trail through the zacaton back into the hills."
"Go to the head of the class. There was one man too many in that thicketfor the horse. French Dan's pardner was afraid they might not agree aboutwho was to have the bronch for a swift getaway. So he took no chances.There's only one man alive to-day can swear that Soapy was the man withFrench Dan lying in the zacaton. And he'll never tell, because he pumpedthe bullet into his friend. But one thing is sure. Soapy disappeared fromArizona for nearly two years. You can pick any reason you like for hisgoing. That is the one I choose."
"Same here. And the man that would shoot one partner in the back wouldshoot another if he had good reasons. By his way of it Soapy has reasonsa-plenty."
"I'm satisfied that is his game. Question is how to block it. Will you goto the sheriff?"
"No. Bolt would fall down on it. First off, he would not believe the storybecause I'm a rustler myself. Soapy and his friends voted for Bolt. Hewould go to them, listen to their story, prove part of it by me, and turnthem loose for lack of evidence. Sam would go back to Dead Cow with them,and Stone would weave another web for the kid."
"You've got it about right," Slats admitted. "How about warning Sam?"
"No use. He would go straight to Soapy with it, and his dear friend wouldpersuade him it was just a yarn cooked up to get him to throw down theonly genuwine straight-up pal he ever had."
"Cullison then?"
"You're getting warm. I've had that notion myself. The point is, would hebe willing to wait and let Soapy play his hand out till we called?"
"You would have to guarantee his boy would be safe meanwhile."
"Two of us would have to watch him day and night without Sam knowing it."
"Count me in."
"This is where we hit heavy traveling, Slats. For we don't know when thething is going to be pulled off."
"We'll have to be ready. That's all."
"Happen to know whether Dick Maloney is here for the show?"
"Saw him this mo'ning. Luck is here too, him and his girl."
"Good. We've got to have a talk with them, and it has to be on the q.t.You go back to town and find Dick. Tell him to meet us at the Del Mar,where Luck always puts up. Find out the number of Cullison's room and makean appointment. I'll be on El Molino street all mo'ning off and on. Whenyou find out pass me without stopping, but tell me when we are to meet andjust where."
Curly gave Slats a quarter of an hour before sauntering back to town. Ashe was passing the Silver Dollar saloon a voice called him. Stone andBlackwell were standing in the door. Flandrau stopped.
Soapy's deep-set eyes blazed at him. "You didn't tell me it was LuckCullison went bail for you, Curly."
"You didn't ask me."
"So you and him are thick, are you?"
"I've met him once, if that's being thick. That time I shot him up."
"Funny. And then he went bail for you."
"Yes."
"Now I wonder why."
The eyes of the man had narrowed to red slits. His head had shot forwardon his shoulders as that of a snake does. Curly would have given a gooddeal just then for the revolver lying on the bed of his room. For it wasplain trouble was in sight. The desperado had been drinking heavily andwas ready to do murder.
"That's easy to explain, Soapy. I shot him because I was driven to it.He's too much of a man to bear a grudge for what I couldn't help."
"That's it, is it? Does that explain why he dug up good money to turnloose a horse thief?"
"If I told you why, you would not understand."
"Let's hear you try."
"He did it because I was young, just as Sam is; and because he figuredthat some day Sam might need a friend, too."
"You're a liar. He did it because you promised to sneak up to my ranch andspy on us. That's why he did it."
With the last word his gun jumped into sight. That he was lashing himselfinto a fury was plain. Presently his rage would end in a tragedy.
Given a chance, Curly would have run for it. But Soapy was a dead shot. Ofa sudden the anger in the boy boiled up over the fear. In two jumps hecovered the ground and jammed his face close to the cold rim of the bluesteel barrel.
"I'm not heeled. Shoot and be damned, you coward. And with my last breathI'll tell you that you're a liar."
Flandrau had called his bluff, though he had not meant it as one. A dozenmen were in sight and were watching. They had heard the young man tellStone he was not armed. Public opinion would hold him to account if heshot Curly down in cold blood. He hung there undecided, breathing fast,his jaw clamped tightly.
The lad hammered home his defiance. "Drop that gun, you four-flusher, andI'll whale you till you can't stand. _Sabe?_ Call yourself a bad man, doyou? Time I'm through with you there will be one tame wolf crawling backto Dead Cow with its tail between its legs."
The taunt diverted his mind, just as Curly had hoped it would. He thrustthe revolver back into the holster and reached for his foe.
Then everybody, hitherto paralyzed by the sight of a deadly weapon, wokeup and took a hand. They dragged the two men apart. Curly was thrust intoa barber shop on the other side of the street and Stone was dragged backinto the Silver Dollar.
In two minutes Flandrau had made himself famous, for he was a marked man.The last words of the straggling desperado had been that he would shoot onsight. Now half a dozen talked at once. Some advised Curly one thing, someanother. He must get out of town. He must apologize at once to Stone. Hemust send a friend and explain.
The young man laughed grimly. "Explain nothing. I've done all theexplaining I'm going to. And I'll not leave town either. If Soapy wants mehe'll sure find me."
"Don't be foolish, kid. He h
as got four notches on that gun of his. Andhe's a dead shot."
The tongues of those about him galloped. Soapy was one of theseBilly-the-Kid killers, the only one left from the old days. He could whangaway at a quarter with that sawed-off .45 of his and hit it every crack.The sooner Curly understood that no boy would have a chance with him thebetter it would be. So the talk ran.
"He's got you bluffed to a fare-you-well. You're tame enough to eat out ofhis hand. Didn't Luck Cullison go into the hills and bring him down allalone?" Flandrau demanded.
"Luck's another wonder. There ain't another man in Arizona could have doneit. Leastways no other but Bucky O'Connor."
But Curly was excited, pleased with himself because he had stood up to thebogey man of the Southwest, and too full of strength to be afraid.
Maloney came into the barber shop and grinned at him.
"Hello, son!"
"Hello, Dick!"
"I hear you and Soapy are figuring on setting off some fireworks thisFourth."
It did Curly good to see him standing there so easy and deliberate amongthe excitable town people.
"Soapy is doing the talking."
"I heard him; happened to be at the Silver Dollar when they dragged himin."
Maloney's eyebrows moved the least bit. His friend understood. Togetherthey passed out of the back door of the shop into an alley. The othersstood back and let them go. But their eyes did not leave Curly so long ashe was in sight. Until this thing was settled one way or the other theyoung rustler would be one of the most important men in town. Citizenswould defer to him that had never noticed him before. He carried with hima touch of the solemnity that is allowed only the dead or the dying.
Back to the hotel the two ran. When Curly buckled on his revolver and feltit resting comfortably against his thigh he felt a good deal better.
"I've seen Slats Davis," Maloney explained. "He has gone to find Luck, whois now at the Del Mar. At least he was an hour ago."
"Had any talk with Slats?"
"No. He said you'd do the talking."
"I'm to wait for him on El Molino street to learn where I'm to meetCullison."
"That won't do. You'd make too tempting a target. I'll meet him instead."
That suited Curly. He was not hunting trouble just now, even though hewould not run away from it. For he had serious business on hand that couldnot take care of itself if Soapy should kill him.
Nearly an hour later Maloney appeared again.
"We're to go right over to the Del Mar. Second floor, room 217. You are togo down El Molino to Main, then follow it to the hotel, keeping on theright hand side of the street. Slats will happen along the other side ofthe street and will keep abreast of you. Luck will walk with me behindyou. Unless I yell your name don't pay any attention to what is behindyou. Soon as we reach the hotel Slats will cross the road and go in by theside door. You will follow him a few steps behind, and we'll bring up therear casually as if we hadn't a thing to do with you."
"You're taking a heap of pains, seems to me."
"Want to keep you from getting spoilt till September term of court opens.Didn't I promise Bolt you would show up?"
They moved down the street as arranged. Every time a door opened in frontof him, every time a man came out of a store or a saloon, Curly was readyfor that lightning lift of the arm followed by a puff of smoke. The newsof his coming passed ahead of him, so that windows were crowded withspectators. These were doomed to disappointment. Nothing happened. Theprocession left behind it the Silver Dollar, the Last Chance, Chalkeye'sPlace and Pete's Palace.
Reaching the hotel first, Davis disappeared according to program into theside door. Carly followed, walked directly up the stairs, along thecorridor, and passed without knocking into Room 217.
A young woman was sitting there engaged with some fancy work. Slender andstraight, Kate Cullison rose and gave Curly her hand. For about twoheartbeats her fingers lay cuddled in his big fist. A strange stiflingemotion took his breath.
Then her arm fell to her side and she was speaking to him.
"Dad has gone to meet you. We've heard about what happened this morning."
"You mean what didn't happen. Beats all how far a little excitement goesin this town," he answered, embarrassed.
Her father and Maloney entered the room. Cullison wrung his hand.
"Glad to see you, boy. You're in luck that convict did not shoot you upwhile he had the chance. Saguache is sure buzzing this mo'ning with theway you stood up to him. That little play of yours will help with the juryin September."
Curly thanked him for going bail.
Luck fixed his steel-spoked eyes on him. "By what Dick tells me you'vemore than squared that account."
Kate explained in her soft voice. "Dick told us why you went up to DeadCow creek."
"Sho! I hadn't a thing to do, so I just ran up there. Sam's in town withme. We're rooming together."
"Oh, take me to him," Kate cried.
"Not just now, honey," her father said gently. "This young man came hereto tell us something. Or so I gathered from his friend Davis."
Flandrau told his story, or all of it that would bear telling before agirl. He glossed over his account of the dissipation at the horse ranch,but he told all he knew of Laura London and her interest in Sam. But itwas when he related what he had heard at Chalkeye's place that theinterest grew most tense. While he was going over the plot to destroyyoung Cullison there was no sound in the room but his voice. Luck's eyesburned like live coals. The color faded from the face of his daughter sothat her lips were gray as cigar ash. Yet she sat up straight and did notflinch.
When he had finished the owner of the Circle C caught his hand. "You'vedone fine, boy. Not a man in Arizona could have done it better."
Kate said nothing in words but her dark longlashed eyes rained thanks uponhim.
They talked the situation over from all angles. Always it simmered down toone result. It was Soapy's first play. Until he moved they could not. Theyhad no legal evidence except the word of Curly. Nor did they know on whatnight he had planned to pull off the hold-up. If they were to make acomplete gather of the outfit, with evidence enough to land them in thepenitentiary, it could only be after the hold-up.
Meanwhile there was nothing to do but wait and take what precautions theycould against being caught by surprise. One of these was to see that Samwas never for an instant left unguarded either day or night. Another wasto ride to Tin Cup and look the ground over carefully. For the presentthey could do no more than watch events, attracting no attention by anywhispering together in public.
Before the conference broke up Kate came in with her protest.
"That's all very well, but what about Mr. Flandrau? He can't stay inSaguache with that man threatening to kill him on sight."
"Don't worry about me, Miss Kate;" and Curly looked at her and blushed.
Her father smiled grimly. "No, I wouldn't, Kate. He isn't going to betroubled by that wolf just now."
"Doesn't stand to reason he'd spoil all his plans just to bump me off."
"But he might. He forgot all about his plans this morning. How do we knowhe mightn't a second time?"
"Don't you worry, honey. I've got a card up my sleeve," Luck promised.