Partners of Chance

  CHAPTER XXIII

  THE HOLE-IN-THE-WALL

  Panhandle Sears, in a back room in the Hole-in-the-Wall, was ugly drunk.The Hole-in-the-Wall had the reputation of running a straight game.Whether or not the game was straight, Panhandle had managed to drop hisshare of the money from the sale of the Box-S horses. He had had nothingto do with the actual stealing of them, but he had, with the assistanceof his Mexican companion Posmo, engineered the sale to a rancher livingout of Tucson. It was understood that the horses would find their wayacross the border.

  Now Panhandle was broke again. He stated that unpleasant fact to hiscompanions, Posmo and Shorty,--the latter a town loafer he had picked upin Antelope. Shorty had nothing to say. Panhandle's drunken aggressivecowed him. But Posmo, who had really found the market for the stolenstock, felt that he had been cheated. Panhandle had promised him a thirdof his share of the money. Panhandle had kept on promising from day today, liquidating his promises with whiskey. And now there was no money.

  Posmo knew Panhandle well enough not to press the matter, just then. ButPanhandle, because neither of his companions had said anything when toldthat he was broke, turned on Posmo.

  "What you got to say about it, anyway?" he asked with that curiousstubbornness born in liquor.

  "I say that you owe me a hundred dollar," declared Posmo.

  "Well, go ahead and collect!"

  "Yes, go ahead and collect," said Shorty, suddenly siding withPanhandle. "We blowed her in. We're broke, but we ain't cryin' aboutit."

  "That is all right," said Posmo quietly. "If the money is gone, she isgone; yes?"

  "That's the way to say it!" asserted Panhandle, changing front andslapping Posmo on the shoulder. "We're broke, and who the hell cares?"

  "Let's have a drink," suggested Shorty. "I got a couple of beans left."

  They slouched out from the back room and stood at the bar. Panhandleimmediately became engaged in noisy argument with one of the frequentersof the place. Senator Brown's name was mentioned by the other, butmentioned casually, with no reference whatever to stolen horses.

  Panhandle laughed. "So old Steve is down here lookin' for his hosses,eh?"

  "What horses?"

  The question, spoken by no one knew whom, chilled the group to silence.

  Panhandle saw that he had made a blunder. "Who wants to know?" hequeried, gazing round the barroom.

  "Why, it's in all the papers," declared the bartender conciliatingly."The Box-S horses was run off a couple of weeks ago."

  Panhandle turned his back on the group and called for a drink.

  Shorty was tugging gently at his sleeve. "Posmo's beat it, Pan."

  "To hell with him! Beat it yourself if you feel like it."

  "I'll stick Pan," declared Shorty, yet his furtive eyes belied hisassertion.

  * * * * *

  For three days Bartley had tried to find where Cheyenne was staying, butwithout success, chiefly because Cheyenne kept close to his room duringthe daytime, watching the entrance to the Hole-in-the-Wall, waiting forPanhandle to step out into the daylight, when there would be folk on thestreet who could witness that Panhandle had drawn his gun first.Cheyenne determined to give his enemy that chance, and then kill him.But thus far Panhandle had not appeared on the street in the daytime, sofar as Cheyenne knew.

  Incidentally, Senator Steve had warned Bartley to keep away from theHole-in-the-Wall district after dark, intimating that there was more inthe wind than Cheyenne's feud with Panhandle Sears. So Bartley contentedhimself with acting as a sort of private secretary for the Senator, aduty that was a pleasure. The hardest thing Bartley did was to refusebottled entertainment, at least once out of every three times it wasoffered.

  On the evening of the fourth day after Pelly had wired the Senator thatSneed and his men had ridden north from Tucson, Posmo, hanging about theeastern outskirts of Phoenix, saw a small band of horsemen against thesouthern sky-line. Knowing the trail they would take, north, Posmo hadtimed their arrival almost to the hour. They would pass to the east ofPhoenix, and take the old Apache Trail, North. Posmo had his horsesaddled and hidden in a draw. He mounted and rode directly toward theoncoming horsemen.

  He sang as he rode. It was safer to do that, when it was growing dark.The riders would know he was a Mexican, and that he did not wish toconceal his identity on the road. He did not care to be mistaken for anenemy, especially so near Phoenix.

  Sneed, a giant in the dusk, reined in as Posmo hailed the group. Sneedasked his name. Posmo replied, and was told to ride up. Sneed,separating himself from his men, rode a little ahead and met Posmo.

  "Panhandle is give the deal away," stated Posmo.

  "How?"

  "He drunk and spend all the money. He do not give me anything for that Imake the deal--over there," and Posmo gestured toward the south.

  "Double-crossed you, eh? And now you're sore and want his scalp."

  "He talk too much of the Box-S horses in that cantina," stated Posmodeliberately. "He say that you owe him money." This was an afterthought,and an invention.

  "Who did he say that to?" queried Sneed.

  "He tell everybody in that place that you turn the good trick and thenthrow him hard."

  "Either you're lyin', or Panhandle's crazy." Sneed turned and called tohis men, a few paces off. They rode up on tired horses. "What do yousay, boys? Panhandle is talkin', over there in Phoenix. Posmo, here,says Panhandle is talkin' about us. Now nobody's got a thing on us. Webeen south lookin' at some stock we're thinkin' of buyin'. Want to rideover with me and have a little talk with Panhandle?"

  "Ain't that kind of risky, Cap?"

  "Every time! But it ain't necessary to ride right into the marshal'soffice. We put our little deal through clean. The horses we're ridin'belong to us. And who's goin' to stop us from ridin' in, or out, oftown? I aim to talk to Panhandle into ridin' north with us. It's saferto have him along. If you all don't want to ride with me, I'll go inalone."

  "We're with you, Cap," said one of the men.

  "Mebby it's safer to ride through the towns from now on than to keepdodgin' 'em," suggested Lawson.

  "Come on, then," and Sneed indicated Posmo.

  "And don't make any mistakes," threatened Lawson, riding close to theMexican. "If you do--you won't last."

  Posmo had not counted on this turn of affairs. He had supposed that hisnews would send Sneed and his men in to have it out with Panhandle, orthat one of them would ride in and persuade Panhandle to join them. Buthe now knew that he would have to ride with Sneed, or he would besuspected of double-dealing.

  At the fork of the road leading into Phoenix, Sneed reined in. "We'reridin' tired horses, boys. And we ain't lookin' for trouble. All we wantis Panhandle. We'll get him."

  Sitting his big horse like a statue, his club foot concealed by the long_tapadero_, his physical being dominating his followers, Sneed headedthe group that rode slowly down the long open stretch bordering on theeast of the town. They entered town quietly and stopped a few doorsbelow the lighted front of the Hole-in-the-Wall.

  "Just step in and tell Panhandle I want to see him," and Sneed indicatedone of his riders.

  The man went in and came out again with the information that Panhandlehad left the saloon about an hour ago; that he had told the bartender hewas going out to get some money and come back and play the wheel.

  "Get on your horse," said Sneed, who had been gazing up the street whilelistening to the other. "Here comes Panhandle now. I'll do the talking."