The Rangeland Avenger

  5

  Who killed Quade? That was the question asked with the quiet deadlinessby six men in Sour Creek. It had been Buck Mason's idea to keep thewhole affair still. It was very possible that the slayer was still inthe environs of Sour Creek, and in that case much noise would simplyserve to frighten him away. It was also Buck's idea that they shouldgather a few known men to weigh the situation.

  Every one of the six men who answered the summons was an adept withfist or guns, as the need might be; every one of them had proved thathe had a level head; every one of them was a respected citizen.Sandersen was one; stocky Buck Mason, carrying two hundred pounds closeto the ground, massive of hand and jaw, was a second. After that theirchoice had fallen on "Judge" Lodge. The judge wore spectacles and ajudicial air. He had a keen eye for cows and was rather a sharper inhorse trades. He gave his costume a semiofficial air by wearing anecktie instead of a bandanna, even at a roundup. The glasses, thenecktie, and his little solemn pauses before he delivered an opinion,had given his nickname.

  Then came Denver Jim, a very little man, with nervous hands andremarkable steady eyes. He had punched cows over those ranges for tenyears, and his experience had made him a wildcat in a fight. OscarLarsen was a huge Swede, with a perpetual and foolish grin. Sour Creekhad laughed at Oscar for five years, considered him dubiously for fiveyears more, and then suddenly admitted him as a man among men. He wasstronger than Buck Mason, quicker than Denver Jim, and shrewder thanthe judge. Last of all came Montana. He had a long, sad face,prodigious ability to stow away redeye, and a nature as simple and kindand honest as a child's. These were the six men who gathered about andstared at the center of the floor. Something, they agreed, had to bedone.

  "First it was old man Collins. That was two years back," said JudgeLodge. "You boys remember how Collins went. Then there was the drifterthat was plugged eight months ago. And now it's Ollie Quade. Gents,three murders in two years is too much. Sour Creek'll get a name. Thebad ones will begin to drop in on us and use us for headquarters. Wegot to make an example. We never got the ones that shot Collins or thedrifter. Since Quade has been plugged we got to hang somebody. Ain'tthat straight?"

  "We got to hang somebody," said Denver Jim. "The point is--who?"

  His keen eyes went slowly, hungrily, from face to face, as if he wouldnot have greatly objected to picking one of his companions in that veryroom.

  "Is they any strangers in town?" asked Larsen with his peculiar,foolish grin.

  Sandersen stirred in his chair; his heart leaped.

  "There's a gent named Riley Sinclair nobody ain't never seen before."

  "When did he come in?"

  "Along about dark."

  "That's the right time for us. You found Quade a long time dead, Bill."

  Sandersen swallowed. In his joy he could have embraced Larsen.

  "What'll we do?"

  "Go talk to Sinclair," said Larsen and rose. "I got a rope."

  "He's a dangerous-lookin' gent," declared Sandersen.

  Larsen replied mildly: "Mostly they's a pile more interesting whenthey's dangerous. Come on, boys!"

  It had been well after midnight when Mason and Sandersen got back toSour Creek. The gathering of the posse had required much time. Now, asthey filed out to the hotel, to the east the mountains were beginningto roll up out of the night, and one cloud, far away and high in thesky, was turning pink. They found the hotel wakening even at this earlyhour. At least, the Chinese cook was rattling in the kitchen as hebuilt the fire. When the six reached the door of Sinclair's room,stepping lightly, they heard the occupant singing softly to himself.

  "Early riser," whispered Denver Jim.

  "Too early to be honest," replied Judge Lodge.

  Larsen raised one of his great hands and imposed an absolute silence.Then, stepping with astonishing softness, considering his bulk, heapproached the door of Sinclair's room. Into his left hand slid his .45and instantly five guns glinted in the hands of the others. With equalcaution they ranged themselves behind the big Swede. The latter glancedover his shoulder, made sure that everything was in readiness, and thenkicked the door violently open.

  Riley Sinclair was sitting on the side of his bed, tugging on a pair ofriding boots and singing a hushed song. He interrupted himself longenough to look up into the muzzle of Larsen's gun. Then deliberately hefinished drawing on the boot, singing while he did so; and, stilldeliberately, rose and stamped his feet home in the leather. Next hedropped his hands on his hips and considered the posse gravely.

  "Always heard tell how Sour Creek was a fine town but I didn't knowthey turned out reception committees before sunup. How are you, boys?Want my roll?"

  Larsen, as one who scorned to take a flying start on any man, droppedhis weapon back in its holster. Sinclair's own gun and cartridge belthang on the wall at the foot of the bed.

  "That sounds too cool to be straight," said the judge soberly."Sinclair, I figure you know why we want you?"

  "I dunno, gents," said Sinclair, who grew more and more cheerful in theface of these six pairs of grim eyes. "But I'm sure obliged to the gentthat give me the sendoff. What d'you want?" Drawing into the backgroundLarsen said: "Open up on him, judge. Start the questions."

  But Sandersen was of no mind to let the slow-moving mind of the judgehandle this affair which was so vital to him. If Riley Sinclair did nothang, Sandersen himself was instantly placed in peril of his life. Hestepped in front of Sinclair and thrust out his long arm.

  "You killed Quade!"

  Riley Sinclair rubbed his chin thoughtfully, looking past his accuser.

  "I don't think so," he said at length.

  "You don't think so? Don't you know?"

  "They was two Mexicans jumped me once. One of 'em was called Pedro.Maybe the other was Quade. That who you're talking about?'

  "You can't talk yourself out of it, Sinclair," said Denver Jim. "Wemean business, real business, you'll find out!"

  "This here is a necktie party, maybe?" asked Riley Sinclair.

  "It is, partner," said big Larsen, with his continual smile.

  "Sinclair, you come over the mountains," went on Sandersen. "You cometo find Quade. You ride down off'n the hills, and you come up toQuade's house. You call him out to talk to you. You're sitting on yourhorse. All at once you snatch out a gun and shoot Quade down. We know!That bullet ranged down. It was shot from above him, plain murder! Hedidn't have a chance!"

  Throwing out his facts as he saw them, one by one, there was a ring ofconviction in his voice. The six accusing faces grew hard and set.Then, to their astonishment, they saw that Sinclair was smiling!

  "He don't noways take us serious, gents," declared the judge. "Let'stake him out and see if a rope means anything to him. Sinclair, d'youfigure this is a game with us?"

  Riley Sinclair chuckled. "Gents," he said easily, "you come here allhet up. You want a pile of action, but you ain't going to get it off'nme--not a bit! I'll tell you why. You gents are straight, and you knowstraight talk when you hear it. This dead man--what's his name,Quade?--was killed by a gent that had a reason for killing him. Wantedto get Quade's money, or they was an old grudge. But what could myreason be for wanting to bump off Quade? Can any of you figure thatout? There's my things. Look through 'em and see if I got Quade'smoney. Maybe you think it's a grudge? Gents, I give you my word that Inever been into this country before this trip. How could there be anygrudge between me and Quade? Is that sense? Then talk sense back tome!"

  His mirth had disappeared halfway through his speech, and in the latterpart of it his voice rang sternly. Moreover he looked them in the eye,one by one. All of this was noted by Sandersen. He saw suddenly andclearly that he had lost. They would not hang this man by hearsayevidence, or by chance presumption.

  Sinclair would go free. And if Sinclair went free, there would be shortshrift for Bill Sandersen. For a moment he felt his destiny waveringback and forth on a needle point. Then he flung himself into a newcourse diametrically opposed to the other.

/>   "Boys, it was me that started this, and I want to be the first to admitit's a cold trail. Men has been hung with less agin' them than we gotagin' Sinclair. We know when Quade must have been killed. We know ittallies pretty close with the time when Sinclair came down that sametrail, because that was the way he rode into Sour Creek. But no matterhow facts look, nobody _seen_ that shooting. And I say this gentSinclair ain't any murderer. Look him over, boys. He's clean, and Iregister a vote for him. What d'you say? No matter what the rest of youfigure, I'm going to shake hands with him. I like his style!"

  He had turned his back on Riley while he spoke, but now he whirled andthrust out his hand. The fingers of Sinclair closed slowly over theproffered hand.

  "When it comes to the names, partner, seems like you got an edge overme."

  "Have I? I'm Sandersen. Glad to know you, Sinclair."

  "Sandersen!" repeated the stranger slowly. "Sandersen!"

  Letting his fingers fall away nervelessly from the hand of the other,he sighed deeply.

  Sandersen with a side-glance followed every changing shade ofexpression in that hard face. How could Sinclair attack a man who hadjust defended him from a terrible charge? It could not be. For themoment, at least, Sandersen felt he was safe. In the future, manythings might happen. At the very least, he had gained a pricelesspostponement of the catastrophe.

  "Them that do me a good turn is writ down in red," Sinclair was saying;"and them that step on my toes is writ down the same way. Sandersen, Igot an idea that for one reason or another I ain't going to forget youin a hurry."

  There was a grim double meaning in that speech which Sandersen alonecould understand. The others of the self-appointed posse had apparentlymade up their minds that Sandersen was right, and that this was a coldtrail.

  "It's like Sinclair says," admitted the judge. "We got to find a gentthat had a reason for wishing to have Quade die. Where's the man?"

  "Hunt for the reason first and find the man afterward," said bigLarsen, still smiling.

  "All right! Did anybody owe Quade money, anybody Quade was pressing forit?"

  It was the judge who advanced the argument in this solemn and dry form.Denver Jim declared that to his personal knowledge Quade had neitherborrowed nor loaned.

  "Well, then, had Quade ever made many enemies? We know Quade was afighter. Recollect any gents that might hold grudges?"

  "Young Penny hated the ground he walked on. Quade beat Penny to a pulpdown by the Perkin water hole."

  "Penny wouldn't do a murder."

  "Maybe it was a fair fight," broke in Larsen.

  "Fair nothin'," said Buck Mason. "Don't we all know that Quade was fastwith a gun? He barely had it out in his hand when the other gentdrilled him. And he was shot from above. No, sir, the way it happenedwas something like this. The murderin' skunk sat on his hoss sayinggoodby to Quade, and, while they was shaking hands or something likethat, he goes for his gun and plugs Quade. Maybe it was a gent thatknew he didn't have a chance agin' Quade. Maybe--"

  He broke off short in his deductions and smote his hands together witha tremendous oath. "Boys, I got it! It's Cold Feet that done the job.It's Gaspar that done it!"

  They stared at Buck vaguely.

  "Mason, Cold Feet ain't got the nerve to shoot a rabbit."

  "Not in a fight. This was a murder!"

  "What's the schoolteacher's reason!"

  "Don't he love Sally Bent? Didn't Quade love her?" He raised his voice."I'm a big fool for forgetting! Didn't I see him ride over the hill toQuade's place and come back in the evening? Didn't I see it? Why elsewould he have called on Quade?"

  There was a round chorus of oaths and exclamations. "The poisonouslittle skunk! It's him! We'll string him up!"

  With a rush they started for the door.

  "Wait!" called Riley Sinclair.

  Bill Sandersen watched him with a keen eye. He had studied the face ofthe big man from up north all during the scene, and he found the sternfeatures unreadable. For one instant now he guessed that Sinclair wasabout to confess.

  "If you don't mind seven in one party," said Riley Sinclair, "I thinkI'll go along to see justice done. You see, I got a sort of secondhandinterest in this necktie party."

  Mason clapped him on the shoulder. "You're just the sort of a gent weneed," he declared.