Chapter XXII
The Rustlers' Camp
From Live-Oaks a breakneck trail runs up the side of the mountain, dropsdown into the valley beyond, and twists among the hills and throughcanons to the Ruidosa. In the darkness a man followed this precariouspath. His horse climbed it like a cat, without the least uncertainty ordoubt. Both mount and rider had covered this ground often during theWashington County War. Joe Yankie expected to continue to use it as longas he found a profit in other men's cattle.
When he had reached the summit he swung to the right, dipped abruptlyinto a narrow gulch, skirted a clump of junipers, and looked down upona little basin hidden snugly in the gorge. A wisp of pungent smoke roseto his nostrils. The pony began cautiously the sharp descent. Theescarpment was of disintegrated granite which rang beneath the hoofs ofthe animal. A pebble rolled to the edge of the bluff and dropped into theblack pit below.
From the gulf a challenging voice rose. "Hello, up there!"
"It's me--Joe," answered the rider.
"Time you were gettin' here," growled the other, as yet only a voice inthe darkness.
Slowly the horse slid forward to a ribbon of trail that led lessprecipitously to the camp.
"'Lo, Joe. Fall off an' rest," a one-armed man invited. By the light ofthe camp-fire he was a hard-faced, wall-eyed citizen with a jaw like asteel trap.
Yankie dismounted and straddled to the fire. "How-how; I'm heap hungry,boys. Haven't et since mornin'."
"We're 'most out of grub. Got nothin' but jerked beef an' hard-tack. Howare things a-stackin', Joe?" asked a heavy-set, bow-legged man witha cold, fishy eye.
"Looks good, Dave. I'll lead the cattle to you. It'll be up to you an'Albeen an' Dumont to make a get-away with 'em."
"Don't you worry none about that. Once I get these beeves on the trailthere can't no shorthorn cattleman take 'em away from me."
"Oh, you're doin' this thing, are you?" drawled Albeen offensively."There's been a heap of big I talk around here lately. First off, I wantto tell you that when you call Homer Webb a shorthorn cattleman you'vegot another guess comin'. He's a sure enough old-timer. Webb knocked thebark off'n this country when it was green, an' you got to rise up earlyan' travel fast if you want to slip over anything on him,"
"That's whatever," agreed Yankie. "I don't love the old man a whole lot.I've stood about all from him I'm intendin' to. One of these days it'sgoin' to be him or me. But the old man's there every jump of the road. Heknew New Mexico when Los Portales was a whistlin' post in the desert.He's fought through this war an' come through richer than when hestarted. If I was lookin' for an easy mark I'd sure pass up Webb."
"He's got you lads buffaloed," jeered Roush. "Webb looks like anybodyelse to me. I don't care if he's worth a million. If he fools with mehe'll find I fog him quick."
"I've known fellows before that got all filled up with talk an' had tosteam off about every so often," commented Albeen to the world at large.
"Meanin' me?"
Albeen carefully raked a live coal from the fire and pressed it down intothe bowl of his pipe. The eyes in his leathery, brown face had grown hardas jade. For some time he and Dave Roush had been ready for an explosion.It could not come any too soon to suit the one-armed man.
"Meanin' you if you want to take it that way." Albeen looked straight athim with an unwinking gaze. "You're not the only man on the reservationthat wears his gun low, Roush. Maybe you're a wolf for fair. I've sureheard you claim it right often. You're a two-gun man. I pack only one,seem' as I'm shy a wing. But don't git the notion you can ride me. Iwon't stand for it a minute."
"Sho! Dave didn't mean anything like that. Did you, Dave?" interposedDumont hastily. "You was just kind o' jokin', wasn't you?"
"Well, I'm servin' notice right now that when any one drops around anyjokes about me bein' buffaloed, he's foolin' with dynamite. No manalive can run a sandy on me an' git away with it."
The chill eyes of Albeen, narrowed to shining slits, focused on Roushmenacingly. All present understood that he was offering Devil Dave achoice. He could draw steel, or he could side-step the issue.
The campers had been playing poker with white navy beans for chips.Roush, undecided, gathered up in his fingers the little pile of them infront of him and let them sift down again to the blanket on the edge ofwhich he sat. Some day he and Albeen would have to settle this quarrelonce for all. But not to-night. Dave wanted the breaks with him when thathour came. He intended to make a sure thing of it. Albeen was one ofthose fire-eaters who would play into his hand by his reckless courage.Better have patience and watch for his chance against the one-armedgunman.
"I ain't aimin' to ride you any, Albeen," he said sulkily.
"Lay off'n me, then," advised the other curtly.
Roush grumbled something inaudible. It might have been a promise. Itmight have been a protest. Yankie jumped into the breach and beganto talk.
"I couldn't git away from the old man yesterday. I think he's suspiciousabout me. Anyhow, he acts like he is. I came in to Live-Oaks to-nightwithout notifyin' him an' I got to be back in camp before mornin'.Here's my plan. I've got a new rider out from Kansas for his health. He'sgun-shy. I'll leave him in charge of this bunch of stock overnight on.the berrendo. He'll run like a scared deer at the first shot. Hustle thebeeves over the pass an' keep 'em movin' till you come to Lost Cache."
Crouched over the blanket, they discussed details and settled them.Yankie rose to leave and Roush followed him to his horse.
"Don't git a notion I'm scared of Albeen, Joe," he explained. "Noone-armed, hammered-down little runt can bluff me for a second. When I'mgood an' ready I'll settle with him, but I'm not goin' to wreck thisbusiness we're on by any personal difficulty."
"That's right, Dave," agreed the foreman of the Flying V Y. "We allunderstand how you feel."
Yankie, busy fastening a cinch, had his forehead pressed against thesaddle and could afford a grin. He knew that the courage of a killer islargely dependent on his physical well-being. If he is cold or hungry orexhausted, his nerve is at low ebb; if life is running strong in hisarteries his grit is above par. For years Roush had been drinking toexcess. He had reached the point where he dared not face in the open aman like Albeen with nerves of unflawed steel. The declension of agunman, if once it begins, is rapid and sure. One of those days, unlessRoush were killed first, some mild-looking citizen would take his gunfrom him and kick him out of a bar-room.
The foreman traveled fast, but the first streaks of morning were alreadylighting the sky when he reached Rabbit Ear Creek, upon which was theFlying V Y Ranch No. 3 of which he was majordomo. He unsaddled, threw thebronco into the corral, and walked to the foreman's bunkhouse. Withoutundressing, he flung himself upon the bed and fell asleep at one. Heawoke to see a long slant of sunshine across the bare planks of thefloor.
Some one was hammering on the door. Webb opened it and put in his headjust as the Segundo jumped to his feet.
"Makin' up some lost sleep, Joe?" inquired the owner of the ranchamiably.
"I been out nights a good deal tryin' to check the rustlers," answeredYankie sullenly. He had been caught asleep in his clothes and it annoyedhim. Would the old man guess that he had been in the saddle all night?
"Glad to hear you're gettin' busy on that job. They've got to be stopped.If you can't do it I'll have to try to find a man that can, Joe."
"Mebbe you think it's an easy job, Webb," retorted the other, a chip onhis shoulder. "If you do it costs nothin' Mex to fire me an' try someother guy."
"I don't say you're to blame, Joe. Perhaps you're just unlucky. But thefact stands that I'm losin' more cattle on this range than at any one ofmy other three ranches or all of 'em put together."
"We're nearer the hills than they are," the foreman replied sulkily.
"I don't want excuses, but results, Joe. However, I came to talk aboutthat gather of beeves for Major Strong."
Webb talked business in his direct fashion for a few minutes, thenstrolled away. T
he majordomo watched him walk down to the corral. Hecould not swear to it, but he was none the less sure that theMissourian's keen eye was fixed upon a sweat-stained horse that had beentraveling the hills all night.