CHAPTER XXV
"THEY'RE RUNNIN' ME OUTA TOWN"
Jumbo Wilkins came wheezing into the Sunset Trail corral, where JackRoberts was mending a broken bridle. "'Lo, Tex. Looks like you'regittin' popular, son. Folks a-comin' in fifty miles for to have a littletalk with you."
The eyes of the Ranger grew intelligent. He knew Jumbo's habit of mind.The big line-rider always made the most of any news he might have.
"Friends of mine?" asked Jack casually.
"Well, mebbe friends ain't just the word. Say acquaintances. You know'em well enough to shoot at and to blacksnake 'em, but not well enoughto drink with."
"Did they _say_ they wanted to see me?"
"A nod is as good as a wink to a blind bronc. They said they'd come tomake you hard to find."
The Ranger hammered down a rivet carefully. "Many of 'em?"
"Two this trip. One of 'em used to think yore topknot was red. I dunnowhat he thinks now."
"And the other?"
"Carries the brand of Overstreet."
"Where are these anxious citizens, Jumbo?"
"Last I saw of 'em they were at the Bird Cage lappin' up another of thesame. They've got business with Clint Wadley, too, they said."
Jack guessed that business was blackmail. It occurred to him that sincethese visitors had come to town to see him, he had better gratify theirdesire promptly. Perhaps after they had talked with him they might nothave time to do their business with Wadley.
As Jumbo waddled uptown beside him, Roberts arranged the details of hislittle plan. They separated at the corner of the street a block from theBird Cage. Wilkins had offered to lend a hand, but his friend definedthe limit of the help he might give.
"You come in, shake hands with me, an' ask that question. Then you'rethrough. Understand, Jumbo?"
"Sure. But I want to tell you again Overstreet is no false-alarmbad-man. He'll fight at the drop of the hat. That's his reputation,anyhow--wears 'em low an' comes a-shootin'."
"I'll watch out for him. An' I'll look for you in about three minutes."
"Me, I'll be there, son, and I wish you the best of luck."
Gurley was at the bar facing the door when the Ranger walked into theBird Cage. He had been just ready to gulp down another drink, but as hiseyes fell on this youth who came forward with an elastic step the heartdied within him. It had been easy while the liquor was in his brain tobrag of what he meant to do. It was quite another thing to face inbattle this brown, competent youth who could hit silver dollars in theair with a revolver.
His companion read in Gurley's sallow face the dismay that had attackedhim. Overstreet turned and faced the newcomer. The outlaw was a short,heavy-set man with remarkably long arms. He had come from Trinidad,Colorado, and brought with him the reputation of a killer. His eyeslooked hard at the red-haired youngster, but he made no comment.
Jack spoke to the bartender. He looked at neither of the bad-men, but hewas very coolly and alertly on guard.
"Joe, I left my blacksnake at home," he said. "Have you got one handy?"
"Some guys are lucky, Steve," jeered Overstreet, taking his cue from theRanger. "Because you fell over a box and this fellow beat you up whileyou was down, he thinks he's a regular go-getter. He looks to me like acounterfeit four-bit piece, if anybody asks you."
Jumbo Wilkins puffed into the place and accepted the Ranger's invitationto take a drink.
"What makes you so gaunted, Jack? You look right peaked," he commentedas they waited for their drinks.
"Scared stiff, Jumbo. I hear two wild an' woolly bad-men are after me.One is a tall, lopsided, cock-eyed rooster, an' the other is ahammered-down sawed-off runt. They sure have got me good an' scared.I've been runnin' ever since I heard they were in town."
Gurley gulped down his drink and turned toward the door hastily. "Come,let's go, Overstreet. I got to see a man."
The Texan and the Coloradoan looked at each other with steel-cold eyes.They measured each other in deadly silence, and while one might havecounted twenty the shadow of death hovered over the room. ThenOverstreet made his choice. The bragging had all been done by Gurley. Hecould save his face without putting up a fight.
"Funny how some folks are all blown up by a little luck," he sneered,and he followed his friend to the street.
"You got 'em buffaloed sure, Jack. Tell me how you do it," demandedJumbo with a fat grin.
"I'm the law, Jumbo."
"Go tell that to the Mexicans, son. What do you reckon a killer likeOverstreet cares for the law? He figured you might down him before hecould gun you--didn't want to risk an even break with you."
The Ranger poured his untasted liquor into the spittoon and settled thebill. "Think I'll drop around to the Silver Dollar an' see if my birdshave lit again."
At the Silver Dollar Jack found his friend the ex-Confederate doingbusiness with another cattleman.
"I'd call that a sorry-lookin' lot, Winters," he was saying. "I know ajackpot bunch of cows when I see 'em. They look to me like they beenfed on short grass an' shin-oak." His face lighted at sight of theRanger. "Hello, brindle-haid! Didn't know you was in town."
The quick eye of the officer had swept over the place and found the twomen he wanted sitting inconspicuously at a small table.
"I'm not here for long, Sam. Two genuwine blown-in-the-bottle bad-menare after my scalp. They're runnin' me outa town. Seen anything of 'em?They belong to the Dinsmore outfit."
The old soldier looked at him with a sudden startled expression. He knewwell what men were sitting against the wall a few steps from him. Thiswas talk that might have to be backed by a six-shooter. Bullets werelikely to be flying soon.
"You don't look to me like you're hittin' yore heels very fast to make aget-away, Jack," he said dryly.
"I'm sure on the jump. They're no bully-puss kind of men, but sureenough terrors from the chaparral. If I never get out o' town, ship mysaddle in a gunny-sack to my brother at Dallas."
"Makin' yore will, are you?" inquired Joe Johnston's former trooper.
The red-haired man grinned. "I got to make arrangements. They came hereto get me. Two of 'em--bad-men with blood in their eyes." He hummed,with jaunty insolence:
"He's a killer and a hater! He's the great annihilator! He's a terror of the boundless prai-ree.
"That goes double. I'm certainly one anxious citizen. Don't you let 'emhurt me, Sam."
There was a movement at the table where the two men were sitting. One ofthem had slid from his chair and was moving toward the back door.
The Ranger pretended to catch sight of him for the first time. "Hello,Gurley! What's yore hurry? Got to see another man, have you?"
The rustler did not wait to answer. He vanished through the door andfled down the alley in the direction of the corral. Overstreet could doas he pleased, but he intended to slap a saddle on his horse and maketracks for the cap-rock country.
Overstreet himself was not precisely comfortable in his mind, but he didnot intend to let a smooth-faced boy run him out of the gambling-housebefore a dozen witnesses. If he had to fight, he would fight. But in hisheart he cursed Gurley for a yellow-backed braggart. The fellow had gothim into this and then turned tail. The man from Colorado wisheddevoutly that Pete Dinsmore were beside him.
"You're talkin' at me, young fellow. Listen: I ain't lookin' for anytrouble with you--none a-tall. But I'm not Steve Gurley. Where I comefrom, folks grow man-size. Don't lean on me too hard. I'm liable todecrease the census of red-haired guys."
Overstreet rose and glared at him, but at the same time one hand wasreaching for his hat.
"You leavin' town too, Mr. Overstreet?" inquired the Ranger.
"What's it to you? I'll go when I'm ready."
"'We shall meet, but we shall miss you--there will be one vacantchair,'" murmured the young officer, misquoting a song of the day."Seems like there's nothin' to this life but meetin' an' partin'. Hereyou are one minute, an' in a quarter of an hour you're hittin' the highspots tryin' to
catch up with friend Steve."
"Who said so? I'll go when I'm good an' ready," reiterated the bad-man.
"Well, yore bronc needs a gallop to take the kinks out of his legs. Givemy regards to the Dinsmores an' tell 'em that Tascosa is no sort ofplace for shorthorns or tinhorns."
"Better come an' give them regards yore own self."
"Mebbe I will, one of these glad mo'nin's. So long, Mr. Overstreet. Muchobliged to you an' Steve for not massacreein' me."
The ironic thanks of the Ranger were lost, for the killer from Coloradowas already swaggering out of the front door.
The old Confederate gave a whoop of delight. "I never did see yorematch, you doggoned old scalawag. You'd better go up into Mexico andmake Billy the Kid[6] eat out of yore hand. This tame country is noplace for you, Jack."
Roberts made his usual patient explanation. "It's the law. They can'tbuck the whole Lone Star State. If he shot me, a whole passel of Rangerswould be on his back pretty soon. So he hits the trail instead." Heturned to Ridley, who had just come into the Silver Dollar. "Art, willyou keep cases on Overstreet an' see whether he leaves town right away?"
A quarter of an hour later Ridley was back with information.
"Overstreet's left town--lit out after Gurley."
The old Rebel grinned. "He won't catch him this side of the cap-rock."
[Footnote 6: Billy The Kid was the most notorious outlaw of the day. Heis said to have killed twenty-one men before Sheriff Pat Garrett killedhim at the age of twenty-one years.]