Saturday was always the biggest day in Medicine Tree. It was the day
when everybody came to town to do his shopping, to discuss the affairs
of Painted Valley, until they had imbibed sufficient liquor, when they
took in more territory. At times they went so far as to arrange the
affairs of Europe.
There were quite a few people in evidence when the men came in from the
Triangle X. Kendall Marsh and his son drove around to the rear of the
War Dance to tie their team, while Hank North and Terry Ione rode their
horses to the hitchrack on the main street. Jules Mendoza and his two
men were already in town.
Kendall Marsh and his son went in through the rear door of the War Dance
and immediately entered the little private room at the rear, where Butch
Van Deen joined them. Kendall Marsh was visibly nervous.
“Well, what do you know?” he asked Butch.
“She didn’t come back, Marsh. I got hold of Oscar, and he said that they
seemed to be headin’ toward the JK ranch.”
“She’d have a lot of business out there!”
“I guess he was mistaken.”
“Have you seen Collins this morning?”
Butch shook his head.
“I asked the stableman, and he said that Collins and Bad News must have
left early this mornin’. Their horses were gone, but he said he didn’t
hear ’em leave.”
“Where the hell do yuh suppose they’ve gone?” asked Alden Marsh.
“I dunno. What are you all duded up for?”
“We’re going away on the noon freight,” said his father.
“Back to Los Angeles, eh?”
Marsh nodded.
“You’ll prob’ly get a bill from Della,” grinned Butch.
Marsh’s jaw tightened quickly.
“I’ll take care of her case.”
Butch’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. Then, “Yo’re kinda leavin’ us
holdin’ the sack, ain’tcha?”
“I don’t think so. But there’s no use discussing it here. I’ve told Hank
North just what I want done and he’ll tell you. But before you do much
of anything, I want to know more about that trail. If that story was
true about the dynamiting, the trail may be wiped out. But if Blaze
Nolan was the only one who knew it, who dynamited it? I’m inclined to
think that Cultus and the girl lied.”
“Mebbe they did. Who stayed at the ranch?”
“Mac Rawls. Oh, that end of it is all right.”
“When do we drink?” asked Alden.
“You’re going to quit drinking so much, young man.”
“That’s so? I guess I’ll take one right now, before I forget about it.”
He stepped out of the room and went down to the bar, where Hank and
Terry were having a drink. Oscar, the bartender, looked Alden over with
open amusement.
“Gentlemen of the jury!” he blurted. “Look what sneaked in on us!”
“Dry yore tears, you cock-eyed scorpion!” snorted Alden. “Gimme a glass,
will yuh? Got any decent brandy? Gimme a scoop. The old man says I’m
drinkin’ too much, and I want plenty jolt in a few.”
“That stuff would knock the ornyments off a Christmas tree,” declared
Hank North. “I got a shot of it by mistake one day, and my Adam’s apple
has been wilted ever since. If I had to drink that as a reg’lar thing,
I’d shore cut a fire-break across m’ neck just above m’ collar-bone. As
a beverage, I’d jist as soon swaller a hot horseshoe.”
“She’s a man’s drink,” whispered Alden hoarsely.
“Take another,” invited Terry. “I’d like to see yuh lose yore voice
entirely.”
But Alden had enough for the moment. Jules Mendoza and Tony Gibbs came
in. They started to come to the bar, but changed their minds when they
saw who was here.
“Hello, Injun,” greeted Hank. “Whatcha know?”
“Not know much,” grinned Jules, showing a flash of white teeth.
“Got any tradin’ guns these days?”
“No more.”
“I made money on that .41.”
Jules grinned and went on. Butch came out past the bar and went to the
door. The buckboard from the JK was just pulling in at the store across
the street, and Butch recognised Della. He whirled around and went back
to Kendall Marsh.
“That girl jist came in with the Kelton family, Marsh! They’re over in
front of the store now.”
“That sounds damn’ funny! What’s it all about? See if yuh can’t get her
over here.”
Butch hurried back to the doorway in time to see them all going in the
store. Harry was assisting Della, and in a moment, he came back and went
down to the sheriff’s little office. The place was locked, and Harry
came back to the store. Butch was nervous. He went back to Marsh and
told him what had happened.
“You don’t suppose that damned girl has told something, do you?” asked
Marsh nervously.
“She wants money too bad.”
Kendall Marsh looked at his watch. It would be quite a while before he
and Alden could board that freight, and Kendall Marsh wanted to get out
of Medicine Tree.
“I’ve a notion to drive to Broad Arrow,” he said.
“Gettin’ scared, eh?” growled Butch.
“I’m not scared. But it might complicate matters if I stayed here.”
“Well, go ahead, if yuh feel that way about it.”
“I think I will, Butch. Send Alden in here, will yuh?”
Butch went out past the door again, without saying anything to Alden,
who was drinking more brandy. There did not seem to be any activity
across the street. Butch leaned out and looked up at the north end of
the street.
A rider was coming down the road as fast as his horse could run, a dust
cloud eddying along behind him like the smoke screen of a destroyer at
sea. The horse whirled in at the hitchrack and lurched to a stop, while
the rider tried to dismount, got half-way off and then fell flat on his
back in the dust. The horse whirled around and moved a few feet away,
its flanks heaving from the long run.
Butch stepped from the saloon and ran to the hitchrack. It was Mac
Rawls, his shirt gobby with gore from his wound, trying to get up,
gasping for breath in the dust cloud.
“For God’s sake, what happened to you?” asked Butch. “Talk, can’tcha?”
Rawls tried to say something, but slumped back in the dirt. Swiftly
Butch picked him up in his arms and went running to the saloon, with
Rawls’s heels bumping along the rough planks of the sidewalk. Their
entrance caused consternation in the War Dance, and questions were
hurled at Butch from every angle.
“He fell off his horse at the hitchrack; that’s all I know.”
Kendall Marsh heard the uproar and came out from the office, just as
Butch was crossing the room toward him. Butch shoved past him with his
burden and laid him down on the floor in the little office.
“Shut the door!” snapped Butch. “Keep everybody out, Hank. Alden, you
come in here.”
Terry Ione came running and shoved his way in before they could close
the door.
“He was ridin’ the sheriff’s horse!” exploded Terry. “What’s happened?”
Nobody knew. They looked blankly at each other and down at the
unconscious man on the floor.
“I’m going,” said Kendall Marsh huskily. “Something has gone wrong.”
They all realised that something had gone decidedly wrong. Mac Rawls
would know, but Mac Rawls was unconscious.
There was another dust cloud coming down the road. Mendoza and Tony
Gibbs saw it coming; a tall sorrel horse, running heavily from a double
burden. At two hundred feet from the hitchrack, the sorrel jerked to a
stop, and Cultus Collins dropped to the street. He ran around toward the
rear of the saloon, while Bad News, hatless, his face grimy with dust
and perspiration, spurred up to the hitchrack, where he dismounted
quickly, not stopping to tie the horse, and came slowly toward the
doorway of the saloon, shifting his holster across his thigh.
He looked keenly at Mendoza and Gibbs, as he came up to them.
“Eenside,” said Mendoza quietly, and Bad News nodded as he stepped past
them and into the War Dance.
“I’m going,” repeated Kendall Marsh. “Come on, Alden.”
No one tried to stop them. Marsh stumbled on the little step, as they
went out, and his hand shook when he closed the door softly. Then they
almost ran to the buckboard.
“You ain’t goin’ no place,” said a voice, and they whirled to see Cultus
Collins. He was standing within twenty feet of them, his legs braced
apart, his right thumb hooked over his belt above the holster.
“What do you mean?” asked Marsh huskily.
“You know what I mean, Marsh.”
Alden had sagged back against the left rear wheel of the buckboard, but
now he whipped away his coat and drew a six-shooter from inside the
waistband of his trousers. With what seemed a single motion, Cultus drew
and fired. Alden fired too, but his bullet sang over the top of the War
Dance, when his arm crumpled at the elbow.
At the sound of the shot, Butch Van Deen sprang outside. He had already
drawn his gun, but before he could understand just what had taken place
out there, Cultus fired twice in rapid succession, and Butch fell
backward through the open doorway.
Alden had dropped to his knees, his face twisted with pain, but Kendall
Marsh, everything forgotten, except self-preservation, sprang into the
buckboard and tried to get away, without untying the team.
He slashed at Cultus with the whip, but Cultus dragged him from the
buckboard and crashed an uppercut to his chin which caused Marsh to lose
all interest in the further proceedings of the moment.
At the sound of the first shot, Terry Ione, instead of following Butch
Van Deen, whirled and flung open the door to the saloon. Hank North was
standing in the middle of the room, his hands above his head in token of
surrender, while Bad News Buker was walking towards him, covering Hank
with his six-shooter.
Terry ripped out a curse along with his gun, and fired at the sheriff.
Terry fired too quickly, and it was a complete miss, as far as the
sheriff was concerned, but little Jules Mendoza, back there near the
doorway, choked and sank down on the floor.
Came the crash of another gun, and Terry jerked back. Again and again
that same gun sent its hot lead the length of that room. It was Tony
Gibbs, shooting as he came. Terry Ione was sprawled on his face when the
hammer of Tony’s gun clicked on an empty shell.
In that cloud of powder smoke, Tony Gibbs turned his white face and
said, “He shot my friend, but I fixed him.”
Cultus was coming through the back doorway, dragging Kendall Marsh, who
was beginning to show signs of life again. The shooting was over now.
Alden Marsh came in, sagging drunkenly. He realised that there was no
use in trying to escape.
North was the only man in the Triangle X gang who had sense enough to
surrender. Bad News handcuffed him quickly and made him sit down in a
chair. Men were crowding into the place, coughing from the powder smoke,
asking questions. Some one had gone to get the doctor. It seemed as
though all of Painted Valley wanted to know everything about it.
Cultus dumped Kendall Marsh into a chair, where he gaped vacantly
around, while Bad News seated Alden near his father. Some men were
working over Mendoza, trying to give him a drink of liquor, when the
doctor came. His examination of Mendoza was superficial. That one bullet
had been a dead centre shot, although Mendoza was still alive.
Terry Ione was beyond help, as was Butch Van Deen.
“I’ll fix your arm,” the doctor said to Alden.
“I never done nothin’,” wailed Alden. “He shot me, and I never done
nothin’, Doc. I can prove I never done nothin’, I tell yuh.”
“You liar!”
It was a feminine voice, and they turned to see Della. Harry had hold of
one of her arms, and she braced the other hand against Oscar, the
bartender, whose face was a sickly white.
“You liar,” she repeated, and Alden slumped in his chair.
“You killed Ben Kelton,” she said evenly. “You threw the blame on Blaze
Nolan, and your father paid me to keep away from here. Blaze Nolan never
knew me well enough to speak to me, and”--her lips curled
sarcastically--“when a man in a place as small as this don’t know
dance-hall girls well enough to speak to them, he sure keeps away from
them.
“No, you never done anything, eh? You and Terry Ione tried to kill
Collins and the Kelton girl in Padre Canyon. I suppose that isn’t
anything, eh? I suppose you didn’t have any hand in killing the
sheriff.”
“I didn’t,” whined Alden. “That was Mac Rawls and Terry.”
“I guess that’s all,” said Della wearily. “I didn’t know for sure who
killed Buck Gillis, but now we know.”
Cultus stepped around in front of Kendall Marsh, who seemed dazed over
the whole thing. He looked up at Cultus foolishly.
“What have you got to say, Marsh?” asked Cultus. “You realise that the
game broke against yuh; so yuh might as well talk.”
“What good to talk?” he asked huskily. “I tried to protect my son.”
“And you tried to drive all these cattlemen to the wall; to force them
to turn Painted Valley over to you and your sheep.”
“Well? I wanted this valley.”
“You sent yore men to Padre Canyon to kill me.”
Marsh shook his head wearily.
“No, you’re wrong, Collins; I had nothing to do with that.”
“You ordered your men to kill Buck Gillis and kidnap Blaze Nolan.”
Kendall Marsh licked his dry lips, but refused to talk further.
“He wanted to leave us holdin’ the sack,” laughed Hank North. “I’m as
bad as the rest of ’em, but I never killed anybody. Not that I wouldn’t;
but it never broke right for me to do it. Terry and that drunken kid
tried to kill yuh, Collins. Terry was afraid of yuh. He stole yore gray
horse down at the Mexican border, and then him and young Marsh burned on
the Circle M. They thought it would be funny to start trouble for
Mendoza, if you showed up. I dunno if Terry killed that officer down at
the border, but I think he did.”
“You talk too damn much!” snapped Marsh.
“Mebby they’ll hang me with a soft rope,” grinned Hank.
“If I had a gun--” gritted Alden painfully.
“You never will have,” said Hank rather gravely. “You’ll have to swear
off shootin’ and drinkin’ from now on, hombre.”
Tony Gibbs went to Mendoza and knelt down beside him.
“They cleared Blaze, Jules. Can you hear me? Blaze is free.”
“_Bueno esta_,” softly. “Where is he?”
Cultus looked toward the doorway. There was Jim Kelton and Jane. They
had heard what Della said. Cultus shoved his way to them and stepped
outside.
A rickety buggy was coming down the road, and in it was Blaze Nolan,
slumped back against the worn upholstering. He drove up to the front of
the saloon and stopped the horse. He looked old and tired, but his eyes
lighted up at sight of Jane, and he smiled.
“It’s all over,” Cultus told him. “Yo’re cleared, Blaze, and we’ve got
the whole gang.”
“That’s wonderful,” he whispered. “I don’t understand it, but it’s
wonderful, anyway.”
“Can yuh get out?” asked Harry. “A man wants to speak with yuh. It’s
Mendoza, Blaze; he got hit accidentally.”
Cultus helped Blaze out of the buggy and they went in the saloon.
Mendoza smiled up at Blaze, who knelt down beside him.
“_Buenas dias compadre_,” he whispered. “I’m glad you come. I mus’ tell
you biffore too late. You tell me ’bout dem mortgage paper; so I rob
bank. I guess you almost catch me, eh, compadre. I’m not know eet be
you, until after. I burn papers, and den I set fire to courthouse in
Broad Arrow.”
“You--Jules?” whispered Blaze. “You did this? Why?”
“You ’ave give word to Marsh to ’elp heem; so I fix it thiz way. No
mortgage paper--no help. _Madre de Dios_, w’at a fire! I’m scare. Then
you tell me eff anything ’appen to you, I’m ruin de Los’ Trail. We find
heem together--I spoil heem alone. Beeg boom! Trail all gone. I’m
feenish now, Blaze; everyt’ing is all right. _Buenas noches,
comp--compadre._”
Blaze got slowly to his feet, staring down at the little half-breed, who
had willingly committed robbery and arson for him.
“Well,” he said weakly, staring around, “there goes a man.”
Jane was staring at Blaze through her tears, and he went to her.
Cultus walked out through the rear of the saloon and circled around to
the restaurant. He wanted to be alone for a few minutes. The Chinamen
were so excited that they could hardly take his order. Cultus leaned
wearily on the table, just a little weak over what had transpired, now
that it was all over, and he was still waiting for his order when Bad
News came in and sat down with him.
“Gawd,” said Bad News piously, “what a mess!”
“I plumb forgot to find out who stole my gray horse,” said Cultus, as
though coming out of a dream. “I reckon it was Terry Ione again. He was
the newcomer at the Triangle X. And those drugs they used to keep Blaze
Nolan down look suspiciously like the packages they smuggled across the
border. He probably had a lot of it with him, when he took my horse, and
it came in handy to dope Blaze. It was Terry and young Marsh who tried
to bush me last night. They tried it at Padre Canyon, accordin’ to
Della, and I suppose they were makin’ another try last night.”
“But I don’t understand how yuh ever suspicioned that Blaze was at the
Triangle X. Why, I was sure Blaze killed the sheriff.”
“It shore looked thataway--except for one thing. Those fools tried to
improve on the evidence against Blaze.”
“What was that?”
“The handcuff on Buck Gillis’s wrist. Would any sheriff lock himself to
a prisoner, with both of them on horseback?”
Bad News blinked rapidly for several moments.
“That’s right! Why, he wouldn’t, would he? I never thought of it. Why,
that would be a crazy thing to do!”
“Yeah, and, anyway, there was enough to point one to the Triangle X as a
likely place to look for the answer to almost any criminal goings on. I
was sure that forty-one bullets killed Ben Kelton, and at the time of
Kelton’s death the only forty-one gun round here was at the Triangle X
ranch, according to Jules Mendoza, so I was pretty satisfied that it had
been a Triangle X ranny who killed Kelton--Hank North must have sold
that forty-one gun to Alden, and I figure that the place that held the
killer of Kelton would be a fairly likely place to look for some news of
Blaze Nolan’s disappearance and Buck Gillis’s death.”
They finished their meal and went outside. There was still a big crowd
around the War Dance, but Cultus evaded them and went over to the store.
He didn’t know that the Kelton family were there with Blaze. The effects
of the drug had worn off, and he realised how long he had been a captive
at the Triangle X.
Jane came straight to Cultus, holding out her two hands. She didn’t say
anything, and he smiled down at her. They were still looking at each
other, when they heard the long-drawn whistle of an engine. The freight
was ready to pull out for Broad Arrow.
“There goes Della,” said Jane softly.
“On that train?”
“She thought it was better that way, Cultus; but this time she will come
back willingly as a witness, if they need her.”
Cultus nodded and looked at Harry.
“I won a horse,” he said.
“You earned a horse, yuh mean, Collins.”
“And the best animal on the JK belongs to you,” said Jim Kelton warmly.
“And I won’t kick if you take a dozen.”
Cultus grinned and shook his head.
“No, thank yuh, Mr. Kelton. The sorrel I got from Harry is a wonderful
animal, but I’ll turn him back to yuh, as soon as I go out to the
Triangle X and catch my own horse grazing around there somewhere.”
“You mean you won’t keep the sorrel?” asked Harry.
“No-o-o,” drawled Cultus. “One horse is enough for me; and Amigo is
kinda jealous.”
“But can’t we do _anythin’_ for yuh, Collins?” asked Jim Kelton.
Cultus thought it over for several moments, and then looked at Jane, his
eyes twinkling.
“Yes, there’s somethin’ yuh can do, Mr. Kelton. Make it the biggest
weddin’ they ever had in Painted Valley, and send me an invite. I won’t
be here, but I’d just like to know it happened. And”--he grinned at
Jane--“when yore grandchildren set on yore lap and ask yuh to tell ’em
some more lies about how yuh climbed that devil’s chimney in Padre
Canyon, you send for me, and I’ll come down through Red Horse Pass in a
wheelchair, and prove it to them.”
He turned abruptly and walked out, heading toward the hitchrack, where
the tall sorrel waited for him.
“There goes another man,” said Blaze Nolan softly.