The Boss of the Lazy Y

  CHAPTER XV

  A MEETING IN THE RED DOG

  Of the good resolutions that Calumet had made since the night before,when he had re-read his father's letter in the moonlight while standingbeside the corral fence, none had survived. Black, vicious thoughtsfilled his mind as he drove toward Lazette. When the wagon reached thecrest of a slope about a mile out of town, Calumet halted the horsesand rolled a cigarette, a sullen look in his eyes, unrelieved by theprospect before him.

  By no stretch of the imagination could Lazette be called attractive.It lay forlorn and dismal at the foot of the slope, its forty or morebuildings dingy, unpainted, ugly, scattered along the one street asthough waiting for the encompassing desolation to engulf them. Twoserpentine lines of steel, glistening in the sunlight, came from somemysterious distance across the dead level of alkali, touched the edgeof town where rose a little red wooden station and a water tank of thesame color, and then bent away toward some barren hills, where theyvanished.

  Calumet proceeded down the slope, halting at the lumber yard, where heleft his wagon and orders for the material he wanted. Across thestreet from the lumber yard was a building on which was a sign: "TheChance Saloon." Toward this Calumet went after leaving his wagon. Hehesitated for an instant on the sidewalk, and a voice, seeming to comefrom nowhere in particular, whispered in his ear:

  "Neal Taggart's layin' for you!"

  When Calumet wheeled, his six-shooter was in his hand. At hisshoulder, having evidently followed him from across the street, stood aman. He was lean-faced, hardy-looking, with a strong, determined jawand steady, alert eyes. He was apparently about fifty years of age.He grinned at Calumet's belligerent motion.

  "Hearin' me?" he said to Calumet's cold, inquiring glance.

  The latter's eyes glowed. "Layin' for me, eh? Thanks." He lookedcuriously at the other. "Who are you?" he said.

  "I'm Dave Toban, the sheriff." He threw back one side of his vest andrevealed a small silver star.

  "Correct," said Calumet; "how you knowin' me?"

  "Knowed your dad," said the sheriff. "You look a heap like him.Besides," he added as his eyes twinkled, "there ain't no one else inthis section doin' any buildin' now."

  "I'm sure much obliged for your interest," said Calumet. "An' soTaggart's lookin' for me?"

  "Been in town a week," continued the sheriff. "Been makin' his bragswhat he's goin' to do to you. Says you wheedled him into comin' overto the Lazy Y an' then beat him up. Got Denver Ed with him."

  Calumet's eyes narrowed. "I know him," he said.

  "Gun-fighter, ain't he?" questioned the sheriff.

  "Yep." Calumet's eyelashes flickered; he smiled with straight lips."Drinkin'?" he invited.

  "Wouldn't do," grinned the sheriff. "Publicly, I ain't takin' no side.Privately, I'm feelin' different. Knowed your dad. Taggart's badmedicine for this section. Different with you."

  "How different?"

  "Straight up. Anybody that lives around Betty Clayton's got to be."

  Calumet looked at him with a crooked smile. "I reckon," he said, "thatyou don't know any more about women than I do. So-long," he added. Hewent into the "Chance" saloon, leaving the sheriff looking after himwith a queer smile.

  Ten minutes later when Calumet came out of the saloon the sheriff wasnowhere in sight.

  Calumet went over to where his wagon stood and, concealed behind it,took a six-shooter from under his shirt at the waistband and placed itcarefully in a sling under the right side of his vest. Then he removedthe cartridges from the weapon in the holster at his hip, smilingmirthlessly as he replaced it in the holster and made his way up thestreet.

  With apparent carelessness, though keeping an alert eye about him, hewent the rounds of the saloons. Before he had visited half of themthere was an air of suppressed excitement in the manner of Lazette'scitizens, and knowledge of his errand went before him. In the saloonsthat he entered men made way for him, looking at him with interest ashe peered with impersonal intentness at them, or, standing in doorways,they watched him in silence as he departed, and then fell to talking inwhispers. He knew what was happening--Lazette had heard what Taggarthad been saying about him, and was keeping aloof, giving him a clearfield.

  Presently he entered the Red Dog.

  There were a dozen men here, drinking, playing cards, gambling. Thetalk died away as he entered; men sat silently at the tables, seemingto look at their cards, but in reality watching him covertly. Othermen got up from their chairs and walked, with apparent unconcern, awayfrom the center of the room, so that when Calumet carelessly tossed acoin on the bar in payment for a drink which he ordered, only three menremained at the bar with him.

  He had taken quick note of these men. They were Neal Taggart; a tall,lanky, unprepossessing man with a truculent eye rimmed by lashlesslids, and with a drooping mustache which almost concealed the cruelcurve of his lips, whom he knew as Denver Ed--having met him severaltimes in the Durango country; and a medium-sized stranger whom he knewas Garvey. The latter was dark-complexioned, with a hook nose and aloose-lipped mouth.

  Calumet did not appear to notice them. He poured his glass full andlifted it, preparatory to drinking. Before it reached his lips hebecame aware of a movement among the three men--Garvey had left themand was standing beside him.

  "Have that on me," said Garvey, silkily, to Calumet.

  Calumet surveyed him with a glance of mild interest. He set his glassdown, and the other silently motioned to the bartender for another.

  "Stranger here, I reckon?" said Garvey as he poured his whiskey."Where's your ranch?"

  "The Lazy Y," said Calumet.

  The other filled his glass. "Here's how," he said, and tilted ittoward his lips. Calumet did likewise. If he felt the man's hand onthe butt of the six-shooter at his hip, he gave no indication of it.Nor did he seem to exhibit any surprise or concern when, after drinkingand setting the glass down, he looked around to see that Garvey haddrawn the weapon out and was examining it with apparently casualinterest.

  This action on the part of Garvey was unethical and dangerous, andthere were men among the dozen in the room who looked sneeringly atCalumet, or to one another whispered the significant words, "greenhorn"and "tenderfoot." Others, to whom the proprietor had spoken concerningCalumet, looked at him in surprise. Still others merely stared atGarvey and Calumet, unable to account for the latter's mild submissionto this unallowed liberty. The proprietor alone, remembering a certaingleam in Calumet's eyes on a former occasion, looked at him now and sawdeep in his eyes a slumbering counterpart to it, and discreetly retiredto the far end of the bar, where there was a whiskey barrel in front ofhim.

  But Calumet seemed unconcerned.

  "Some gun," remarked Garvey. It was strange, though, that he was notlooking at the weapon at all, or he might have seen the empty chambers.He was looking at Calumet, and it was apparent that his interest in theweapon was negative.

  "Yes, some," agreed Calumet. He swung around and faced the man,leaning his left arm carelessly on the bar.

  At that instant Denver Ed sauntered over and joined them. He lookedonce at Calumet, and then his gaze went to Garvey as he spoke.

  "Friend of yourn?" he questioned. There was marked deference in themanner of Garvey. He politely backed away, shifting his position sothat Denver Ed faced Calumet at a distance of several feet, with noobstruction between them.

  Calumet's eyes met Denver's, and he answered the latter's question,Garvey having apparently withdrawn from the conversation.

  "Friend of _his_?" sneered Calumet, grinning shallowly. "I reckon not;I'm pickin' my company."

  Denver Ed did not answer at once. He moved a little toward Calumet andshoved his right hip forward, so that the butt of his six-shooter wasinvitingly near. Then, with his hands folded peacefully over hischest, he spoke:

  "You do," he said, "you mangy ------!"

  There was a stir among the onlookers as the vile epithet was applied.Calumet's ri
ght hand went swiftly forward and his fingers closed aroundthe butt of the weapon at Denver Ed's hip. The gun came out with ajerk and lay in Calumet's hand. Calumet began to pull the trigger.The dull, metallic impact of the hammer against empty chambers was theonly result.

  Denver Ed grinned malignantly as his right hand stole into his vest.There was a flash of metal as he drew the concealed gun, but before itsmuzzle could be trained on Calumet the latter pressed the empty weaponin his own hand against the one that Denver Ed was attempting to draw,blocking its egress; while in Calumet's left hand the six-shooter whichhe had concealed under his own vest roared spitefully within a foot ofDenver Ed's chest.

  Many in the room saw the expression of surprise in Denver Ed's eye ashe pitched forward in a heap at Calumet's feet. There were others whosaw Garvey raise the six-shooter which he had drawn from Calumet'sholster. All heard the hammer click impotently on the empty chambers;saw Calumet's own weapon flash around and cover Garvey; saw theflame-spurt and watched Garvey crumple and sink.

  There was a dead silence. Taggart had not moved. Calumet's gaze wentfrom the two fallen men and rested on his father's enemy.

  "Didn't work," he jeered. "They missed connections, didn't they?You'll get yours if you ain't out of town by sundown. Layin' for mefor a week, eh? You sufferin' sneak, thinkin' I was born yesterday!"He ignored Taggart and looked coolly around at his audience, not a manof which had moved. He saw the sheriff standing near the door, and itwas to him that he spoke.

  "Frame-up," he said in short, sharp accents. "Back Durango way Denveran' the little guy pulled it off regular. Little man gets your gun.Denver gets you riled. Sticks his hip out so's you'll grab his gun.You do. Gun's empty. But you don't know it, an' you try to perforateDenver. Then he pulls another gun an' salivates you. Self-defense."He looked around with a cold grin. "Planted an empty on him myself,"he said. "The little guy fell for it. So did Denver. I reckon that'sall. You wantin' me for this?" he inquired of the sheriff. "You'llfind me at the Lazy Y. Taggart--" He hesitated and looked around.Taggart was nowhere to be seen. "Sloped," added Calumet, with a laugh.

  "I don't reckon I'll want you," said Toban. "Clear case ofself-defense. I reckon most everybody saw the play. Some raw."

  Several men had moved; one of them was peering at the faces of Denverand Garvey. He now looked up at the sheriff.

  "Nothing botherin' them any more," he said.

  Calumet stepped over to Denver's confederate and took up the pistolfrom the floor near him, replacing it in his holster. By this time thecrowd in the saloon was standing near the two gunmen, commentinggravely or humorously, according to its whim.

  "Surprise party for him," suggested one, pointing to Denver.

  "Didn't tickle him a heap, though," said another. "Seemed plumbshocked an' disappointed, if you noticed his face."

  "Slick," said another, pointing to Calumet, who had turned his back andwas walking toward the door; "cool as ice water."

  Sudden death had no terrors for these men; there was no inclination intheir minds to blame Calumet, and so they watched with admiration forhis poise as he stepped out through the door.

  "Taggart'll be gettin' his," said a man.

  "Not tonight," laughed another. "I seen him hittin' the breeze out.An' sundown's quite a considerable distance away yet, too."