WHAT THE STORM HID
The squeaking of the door wakened Johnny and his gun swung toward the
sound as a familiar face emerged from the dusk of the hall and smiled a
little.
"Reckon it ain't no shootin' matter," said the sheriff, slowly
entering. He walked over to a chair and sat down. "Just a little call
in th' line of duty," he explained.
"Sorry there wasn't a bell hangin' on th' door, or a club, or
somethin'," replied Johnny ironically. "Then you could 'a' waited till
I asked you to come in."
"That wouldn't 'a' been in th' line of duty," chuckled Corwin, his eyes
darting from one piece of wearing apparel to another. "I'm lookin'
around for th' fellers that robbed th' bank last night. Yore clothes
don't hardly look dusty enough, though. Where was you last night, up to
about one o'clock?"
"Down in th' barroom, playin' cards. Why?"
"That's what Ed says, too. That accounts for you durin' an' after th'
robbery. I've got to look around, anyhow, for them coyotes."
"You'd show more sense if you was lookin' around for hoss tracks
instead of wastin' time in here," retorted Johnny, keeping his head
turned so the peace officer could not see what was left of the bump.
"There ain't none," growled Corwin, arising. "She's still blowin' sand
a-plenty--a couple of shacks are buried to their chimneys. I'm tellin'
you this is th' worst sand storm that ever hit this town, but it looks
like it's easin' up now. There won't be a trail left, an' th' scenery
has shifted enough by this time to look like some place else. Idaho
turn in when you did?"
"He did. Here he is now," replied Johnny, for the first time really
conscious of the sand blasts which rasped against the windows.
Idaho peered around the door, nodded at Corwin and looked curious, and
suspicious. "If I ain't wanted, throw me out," he said, holding up
his trousers with one hand, the other held behind his back. "Hearin'
voices, I thought mebby somebody was openin' a private flask an', bein'
thirsty, I come over to help. My throat is shore dusty. An' would you
listen to that wind? It shore rocked this old hotel last night. Th'
floor of my room is near ankle deep in places."
"Th' bank was robbed last night," blurted Corwin, watching keenly from
under his hat brim. "Whoever done it is still in town, unless he was a
d--d fool!"
Idaho grunted his surprise. "That so? Gee, they shore couldn't 'a'
picked a better time," he declared. "Gosh, there's sand in my hair,
even!"
Johnny rubbed his scalp, looked mildly surprised and slammed his
sombrero on his head. "It ain't polite," he grinned, "but I got enough
of it now." He sat up, crossed his legs under the sand-covered blankets
and faced his visitors. "Tell us about it, Sheriff," he suggested.
"Wait till I get a belt," said Idaho, backing out of the door. When he
returned he carried the rest of his clothes and started getting into
them as the sheriff began his recital.
"John Reddy, th' bank watchman, says he was a little careless last
night, which nobody can hardly blame him for. He sat in his chair
agin' the rear wall, th' whole place under his eyes, an' listened to
th' storm. To kill time he got to makin' bets with hisself about how
soon th' second crack in th' floor would be covered over, an' then th'
third, an' so on. 'Long about a little after twelve he says he hears
a moan at th' back door. He pulls his gun an' listens close, down
at th' crack just above th' sand drift. Then he hears it again, an'
a scratchin' an clawin'. There's only one thing he's thinkin' about
then--how he'd feel if he was th' poor devil out there, lost an' near
dead. I allus said a watchman should ought to have no feelin's, an' a
cussed strong imagination. John ain't fillin' th' bill either way. He
cleared away th' drift on his side of th' door an' opens it--an' beyond
rememberin' somethin' sandy jumpin' for him, that's all he knows till
he come to later on an' found hisself tied up, with a welt on th' head
that felt big as a doorknob."
If the sheriff expected to detect any interchange of glances between
his auditors at his reference to the watchman's bump on the head he was
disappointed. Johnny was looking at him with a frank interest seconded
by that of Idaho, and neither did anything else during the short pause.
"John got his senses back enough to know what had happened, an' one
glance around told him that he was right," continued Corwin. "Finally
he managed to get his legs loose enough to hobble, an' he butted out
into th' flyin' sand with his eyes shut an' his nose buried agin' his
shoulder so he could breathe; an' somehow he managed to hit a buildin'
in his blind driftin'. It was McNeil's, an' by throwin' his weight
agin' th' door an' buttin' it with his shoulders an' elbows, he woke up
Sam, who let him in, untied his arms an' th' rest of him, fixed him up
as well as he could in a hurry an' then left him there. Sam got Pete
Jennings, next door, sent Pete an' a scatter-gun to watch over what was
left in th' bank, an' then started out to find me. He had to give it up
till it got light, so he waited in th' bank with Pete. Th' bank fellers
are there now, checkin' up. Th' big, burglar-proof safe was blowed
open neat as a whistle--but they plumb ruined th' little one. They
overlooked th' biggest of all, down in th' cellar. Well," he sighed,
arising, "I got to go on with my callin'--an' it's one fine day to be
wanderin' all over town."
"If I was sheriff I wouldn't have to do much wanderin'," said Idaho.
"But, anyhow, it can't last," he grinned.
Johnny nodded endorsement. "Th' harder, th' shorter. It's gettin'
less all th' time," he said, pivoting and sitting on the edge of the
bed. "But, just th' same," he yawned, stretching ecstatically, "I'm
shore-e-e--g-l-a-d _I_ can stay indoors till she peters out. Yo're
plumb right, Corwin; them fellers never left town last night. An' if
I was you I'd be cussed suspicious of anybody that seemed anxious to
leave any time today."
"They never did leave town last night," said Idaho, a strange glint
showing in his eyes.
"An' nobody can leave today, neither," said Corwin. "If they try it
they will be stopped," he added, pointedly. "I've got a deputy coverin'
every way out, sand or no sand. So-long," and he tramped down the bare
stairs, grumbling at every step.
Johnny removed his hat to put on his shirt, and then replaced it. "You
speakin' about sand in yore hair gave me what I needed," he grinned.
"That's why I said it," laughed his companion. "I saw that yore neck
was stiff an' felt sorry for you. Now what th' devil do you think about
that bank?"
"Kane," grunted Johnny, pouring sand from a boot.
"That name must 'a' been cut on th' butt of th' gun that hit you,"
chuckled Idaho. "It's been drove in solid. Get a rustle on; I'm hungry,
an' my teeth are full of sand. I'm anxious to hear what Ed knows."
An unpleasant and gritty breakfast out of the way, they went in to
visit with the bartender and to while away a few hours at California
Jack.
"Hello," grunted Ed. "Sheriff come pokin' his face in _yore_ room?" he
asked.
"He did," answered Johnny; "an' he'll never know how close he come to
pokin' it into h--l."
"My boot just missed him," regretted Ed. "He sung out right prompt when
he felt th' wind of it. D--d four-flush."
"I'm among friends an' sympathizers," chuckled Idaho. "He says as how
he's goin' wanderin' around in th' sand blasts doin' his duty. Duty
nothin'! I'm bettin' he's settin' in Kane's, right now, takin' it easy."
"Then he can't get much closer to 'em," snorted Ed. "He can near touch
th' men that did it." He paused as Johnny laughed in Idaho's face
and, shrugging his shoulders, turned and rearranged the glasses on the
backbar: "All right; laugh an' be d--d!" he snorted; "but would you
look at that shelf an' them glasses? Cuss any country that moves around
like that. I bet I got some of them Dry Arroyo sand hills in them
glasses!"
"There was plenty in th' hash this mornin'," said Idaho; "but it didn't
taste like that Dry Arroyo sand. It wasn't salty enough. Gimme a taste
of that."
"Just because you'll make a han'some corpse ain't no reason why you
should be in any hurry," retorted Ed. "Here!" he snorted, tossing
a pack of cards on the bar. "Go over an' begin th' wranglin'
agin--'though th' Lord knows I ain't got nothin' agin' Nelson." He
glanced out of the window. "Purty near blowed out. It'll be ca'm in
another half-hour; an' then you get to blazes out of here, an' stay out
till dark!"
"I wish I had yore happy disposition," said Idaho. "I'd shore blow my
brains out."
"There wouldn't be anythin' to clean up, anyhow!" retorted Ed. "Lord
help us, here comes Silent Lewis!"
"Hello, fellers!" cried the newcomer. "Gee but it's been some storm.
Sand's all over everythin'. Hear about th' bank robbery?"
"Bank robbery?" queried Ed, innocently. "What bank robbery? Sand bank?"
he asked, sarcastically.
"Sand bank! Sand bank nothin'!" blurted Silent. "Ain't you heard it
yet? Why, I live ten miles out of town, an' I know all about it."
"I believe every word you say," said Ed. "Tell us about it."
"Gee, where have you-all been?" demanded Silent "Why, John Reddy,
settin' on his chair, watchin' th' safe, hears a moanin', so he opened
th' door----"
"Of th' safe?" asked Idaho, curiously.
"No, no; of th' bank. Th' bank door, th' rear one. He hears a moan----"
"Which moan; first, or second?" queried Ed, anxiously.
"Th' first--th' second didn't come till--hey, I thought you didn't hear
about it?" he accused.
"I didn't; but you mentions two moans, separate an' distinct," defended
Ed.
"You shore did," said Idaho, firmly.
Johnny nodded emphatically. "Yessir; you shore did. Two moans, one at
each end."
"But I didn't get to th' second moan at all!"
"Now, what's th' use of tellin' us that?" flared the bartender. "Don't
you think we got ears?"
"If you can't tell it right, shut up," said Idaho.
"I can tell it right if you'll shut up!" retorted Silent. "As I said,
he hears a moan, so he leaves th' safe an' goes to th' door. Then he
hears a second moan, scratching', an'----"
"Hey!" growled Ed indignantly. "What you talkin' about? Who in h--l
ever heard of a second moan scratchin'----"
"It was th' first that scratched," corrected Idaho. "He said it plain.
You must be listenin' with yore feet."
"If you'd gimme a chance to tell it--" began Silent, bridling.
"Never mind my hearin' you," snapped Ed at Idaho. "I know what I
heard. An' lemme tell you, Silent, you can't cram nothin' like that
down my throat. Before you go any further, just explain to me how
a moan can scratch! I'm allus willin' to learn, but I want things
explained careful an' full."
"He ain't quick-witted, like you an' me," said Johnny. "We understand
how a scratch moans, but he's too dumb. Go on an' tell th' ignoramus."
"If yo're so cussed quick-witted, will you please tell me what'n blazes
you are talkin' about?" demanded Silent, truculently. "What do you mean
by a scratch moans?"
"That's what I want to know," growled Idaho. "You can't scratch moans.
Cuss it, I reckon I ought to know, for I've tried to do it, more'n
once, too."
"Yo're dumber than Nelson," jeered Ed. "It's all plain to me."
"What is?" snapped Idaho.
"Moanin' scratches, that's what!"
"Of a safe?" asked Johnny. "Then why didn't you say so? How'd _I_ know
that you meant that. Go on, Silent."
"You was at th' second moan," prompted Ed.
"He scratched that," said Idaho. "He got as far as leavin' th' safe,
'though what he was doin' in there with it, I'd like to know. Reddy let
you in?"
"Look here, Idaho," scowled Silent. "I wasn't in there at all. You'll
get me inter trouble, sayin' things like that. I was ten miles away
when it happened."
"Then why didn't you say so, at th' beginnin'?" asked Ed.
"Ah!" triumphantly exclaimed Johnny. "Then you tell us how you could
hear th' scratchin' an' moanin'; tell us that!"
"That's all right, Nelson," said Idaho, soothingly. "He can hear more
things when he's ten miles away than any man you ever knowed. Go ahead,
Silent."
"You go to h--l!" roared Silent, glaring. "You think yo're smart, don't
you, _all_ of you? I was goin' to tell you about th' robbery, but now
you can cussed well find it out for yoreselves! An' don't let me hear
about any of you sayin' I was in that bank last night, neither! D--d
fools!" and he stamped out, slamming the door behind him. "Blow an' be
d--d!" he growled at the storm. "I'd ruther eat sand than waste time
with them ijuts. 'Scratch moans!' Scratch _h--l_!"
Silent's departure left a more cheerful atmosphere in the barroom.
The three men he had forsaken were grinning at each other, the petty
annoyances of the storm forgotten, and the next hour passed quickly. At
its expiration the wind had died down and the storm-bound town was free
again. Ed finished cleaning the bar and the glassware about the time
that his two friends had swept the last of the sand into the street and
cleared away a drift which blocked the rear door. They were taking a
congratulatory drink when Ridley, coming to town for the mail himself
because he would not ask any of his men to face the discomforts of that
ride, stamped in, and his face was like a thunder cloud.
"Gimme a drink!" he demanded, and when he had had it he swung around
and glared at Idaho. "Lukins have any money in that bank? Yes? You
better be off to let him know about it. H--l of a note: Thirty
thousand stole! An' Jud Hill holdin' a gun on _me_ when I rode into
town, askin' fool questions! An' let me tell you somethin'--judgin'
from th' tools they forgot to take with 'em, it wasn't no amatachures
that did that job. Diamond drills an' cow-country crooks don't know
each other. An' that Jud Hill, a-stoppin' _me_!"
"Mebby he won't let you leave town," suggested Idaho. "Corwin's given
orders like that."
Ridley crashed his fist on the bar, and then to better express his
feelings he leaned over and stuck out his jaw. "Y-a-a-s? Then I'm
invitin' you-all to Hill's funeral, an' Corwin's, too, if he cuts in!
_Thirty thousand!_ Great land of cows!"
"Corwin's out now, huntin' for 'em," said Ed.
"Is he?" sneered Ridley. "Then he wants to find 'em! Th' firm of
Twitchell an' Carpenter owns near half of that bank--every dollar th'
Question-Mark has was in it. There's a change comin' to this part of
th' country!" and he stamped out, mounted his horse and whirled down
the trail. When he reached the sentry he rode so close to him that
their legs rubbed and Hill's horse began to give ground.
"Do I go on?" snapped Ridley.
Jud Hill nodded pleasantly. "Shore. Seein' as how you come in this
mornin' I reckon you do."
Ridley urged his horse forward without replying, reached the
ranchhouse, wrote a letter which was a masterpiece of its kind and gave
it to one of his men to post in Larkinville, twenty miles to the south.
That done, all he could do was impatiently to await the reply.
After Ridley had left, Johnny went out to look after Pepper, found her
all right, cleaned the sand out of the feed box and then went down to
look at the bank. Four men with rifles were posted around it and waved
him away. He could see several other men busy in the building, but
beyond that there was nothing to claim his attention. Joining the small
crowd of idlers across the street he listened to their conjectures,
which were entirely vague and colorless, and then wandered back to
look for Idaho in Quayle's. His friend was not to be seen and after
exchanging a few words with the jovial proprietor he went in to talk
with the bartender.
"No wind now, but my throat's dry. Gimme a drink, half water," and
holding it untasted for the moment he jerked his head backward in the
direction of the bank. "Nothin' to see, except some fellers inside
lookin' for 'most anythin', an' four men with Winchesters on th'
outside."
While he was speaking a man had entered and seated himself in the rear
of the room. Johnny glanced carelessly at him, and the glass cracked
sharply in his convulsive grip, the liquor squirting through his
fingers and gathering a deeper color as it passed. A thin trickle of
blood ran down his hand and wrist.
Ed had started at the sound and his head was bent forward, his
unbelieving eyes staring at the dripping hand.
Johnny opened it slowly, shook the fragments from it and let it fall to
his side, mechanically shaking off blood and liquor. "Cuss it, Ed," he
gently reproved, looking calmly into the bartender's questioning face,
"you should ought to pick out th' bad ones an' throw 'em away--yes, an'
bust 'em first."
Ed picked up the bottom of the glass and critically examined it,
noting a discolored strip along one of the sharp edges, where dirt had
accumulated from numberless washings. The largest fragment showed the
greasy line to the rounded brim. "I usually do," he growled. "Thought I
had this one, too. Must 'a' got back somehow. Hurt bad?"
"Nothin' fatal, I reckon," answered Johnny, drawing the injured member
up his trousers leg. "But I'm sayin' you owe me another drink; an'
leave th' water out, this time. Water in whisky never does bring good
luck, nohow."
Ed smiled, pushing out bottle and glass. "We might say _that_ one was
on th' house--all that didn't get on you." He instinctively reached
for and used the bar cloth as he looked over at the stranger. "I can
promise you one that ain't cracked," he smiled.
"I'll take mine straight," said Bill Long. "I don't want no more hard
luck."
"Wonder where Idaho is?" asked Johnny. "Well, if he comes in, tell him
I'm exercisin' my cayuse. Reckon I'll go down an' chin with Ridley this
afternoon. Th' south trail is less sandy than th' north one."
"An' give Corwin a chance to say things about you?" asked Ed,
significantly. "He'll be lookin' for a peg to hang things on."
"Then mebby he won't never look for any more."
"That may be true; but what's th' use?"
"Reckon yo're right," reluctantly admitted Johnny. "Guess I'll go up to
Kane's an' see what's happenin'. If Idaho comes in, or any more of my
numerous friends," he grinned, "send 'em up there if they're askin'
for me. I'll mebby be glad to see 'em," and he sauntered out.
Ed smiled pleasantly at the other customer. "Bad thing, a glass
breakin' like that," he remarked.
Bill Long looked at him without interest. "Serves him right," he
grunted, "for holdin' it so tight. Nobody was aimin' to take it away
from him, was they?"
Johnny entered Kane's too busy thinking to give much notice to the
room and the suppressed excitement occasioned by the robbery, and sat
down at a table. As he leaned back in the chair he caught sight of a
red-headed puncher talking to one of Kane's card-sharps and he got
another shock. "Holy maverick!" he muttered, and looked carelessly
around to see if any more of his Montana friends had dropped into town.
Then he smiled as the card-sharp looking up, beckoned to him. As he
passed down the room he noticed the quiet easterner hunched up in a
corner, his cap well down over his eyes, and Johnny wondered if the
man ever wore it any other way. He was out of place in his cow-town
surroundings--perhaps that was why he had not been seen outside of
Kane's building. Ridley's remark about the tools came to him and he
hesitated, considered, and then went on again. He had no reason to do
Corwin's work for him. Dropping into a vacant chair at the gambler's
table he grunted the customary greeting.
"Howd'y," replied the card-sharp, nodding pleasantly.
"No use bein' lonesome. Meet Red Thompson," he said, waving.
"Glad to meet you," said Johnny, truthfully, but hiding as well as he
could the pleasure it gave him. "I once knowed a Thompson--short, fat
feller. Worked up on a mountain range in Colorado. Know him?"
Red shook his head. "Th' world's full of Thompsons," he explained. "You
punchin'?"
"Got a job on th' SV, couple of days' ride north of here. Just come
down with a little beef herd for Twitchell an' Carpenter. Ain't seen no
good bunch of yearlin's that can be got cheap, have you?"
Red shook his head: "No, I ain't."
The gambler laughed and poked a lean thumb at the SV puncher. "Modest
feller, _he_ is," he said. "He's foreman, up there."
Red's mild interest grew a little. "That so? I passed yore ranch comin'
down. Need another man?"
The SV foreman shook his head. "I could do with one less. Them bank
fellers picked a good time for it, didn't they?"
"They shore did," agreed the gambler. "Couldn't 'a' picked a better.
Kane loses a lot by that, I reckon. Well, what do you gents say to a
little game? Small enough not to cause no calamities; large enough to
be interestin'? Nothin' else to do that I can see."
Red nodded and, the limit soon agreed upon, the game began. As the
second hand was being dealt Bill Long wandered in, talked for a few
moments with the bartender and then went over to a chair. Tipping it
back against the wall he pulled down his hat brim, let his chin sink on
his chest and prepared to enjoy a nap. Naturally a man wishing to doze
would choose the darkest corner, and if he was not successful who could
tell that the narrow slit between his lids let his keen eyes watch
everything worth seeing? His attention was centered mostly on the
tenderfoot stranger with the low-pulled cap and the cut-out squares in
the great checkerboard partition at the rear of the room.
The poker game was largely a skirmish, a preliminary feeling out for
a game which was among the strong probabilities of the future. Johnny
and the gambler were about even with each other at the breaking up of
the play, but Red Thompson had lost four really worth-while jack pots
to the pleasant SV foreman. As they roughly pushed back their chairs
Bill Long stirred, opened his eyes, blinked around, frowned slightly
at being disturbed and settled back again. "Red couldn't 'a' got that
money to him in no better way," he thought, contentedly.
The three players separated, Johnny going to the hotel, Red seeking a
chair by the wall and the gambler loafing at the bar.
"An' how'd you find 'em?" softly asked the wise bartender. "Goin' after
that foreman's roll?"
The gambler grunted and shifted his weight to the other leg. "Thompson
ain't very much; but I dunno about th' other feller. Sometimes I think
one thing; sometimes, another. Either he's cussed innocent, or too
slick for me to figger. Reckon mebby Fisher ought to go agin' him, an'
find out, for shore."
"How'd you make out, last night, with Long?"
"There's a man th' boss ought to grab," replied the gambler. "He didn't
win much from me--but it's his first, an' last, chance with me. I don't
play him no more. I'd like to see him an' Fisher go at it, with no
limit. Fisher would have th' best of it on th' money end, havin' th'
house behind him in case he had to weather a run of hard luck; but
mebby he'd need it."
As the gambler walked away the easterner arose, slouched to the bar and
held a short whispered conversation with the man behind it.
The bartender frowned. "You can't get away before night. Sandy Woods
will take care of you before mornin', I reckon. Go upstairs an' quit
fussin'. Yo're safe as h--l!"
The bartender's prophecy came true after dark, when Sandy Woods and
the anxious stranger quietly left town together; but the stranger had
good reason to be anxious, for at dawn he was careless for a moment and
found himself looking into his escort's gun. He had more courage than
good sense and refused to be robbed, and he died for it. Sandy dragged
the body into a clump of bushes away from the trail and then rode on
to kill the necessary time, leading the other's horse. He was five
thousand dollars richer, and had proved wrong the old adage about honor
among thieves.