CYCLONE
Following the deputy into the house, Bud looked about. The place
_felt_ vacant. It had an atmosphere of emptiness. The furniture in
the rooms had a tossed-about appearance, as though the occupants had
made a hurried exit. A cheap vase lay on the floor by the mantel,
broken. Rugs were kicked up.
"Well, what do you think of that?" Bud said slowly. "They're gone!
Vamoosed! And quick, too. Must have done some tall hustlin' to get
out in that short time. Wonder what the idea was? Do you think Delton
might be around back, or somewhere outside?"
"Better look, anyway." Hawkins stepped to the doorway and suddenly let
out a yell.
"Yo-o-o-o, Kid! Over here!"
"Yo-o!" came the answer. "Right there!" and Yellin' Kid, together with
Billee Dobb, rode to the ranch house.
"What'll you have!" the Kid called as he came up.
"Take a ride around the place and see if you can locate someone; will
you? The house is empty."
"Right! Billee, you ride to the left and I'll go this way. Back in
two shakes."
"Mighty queer where everyone has disappeared to," Hawkins commented.
"When you were here before, Bud, did they look as though they were
getting ready to light out?"
"Nope--just the opposite. As I told you, Delton insisted that he was
going to stay. I can't imagine what scared them off. Unless Delton
decided discretion was the better part of valor. It certainly doesn't
seem logical that they'd make tracks like this, after what Delton said."
"Here comes the Kid. Got someone with him; hasn't he?" asked Bud.
"He sure has--a Mex, I'd say."
"The lone survivor!" the Kid yelled as he rode toward them. "Bud,
recognize him?" and he pushed the Mexican, whom he held by the collar,
forward.
"Why, he's the fellow we saw in the restaurant! Remember, Mr. Hawkins?
The one you pointed out; isn't he?"
"You mean Pete Alvido? Come 'ere, son--let's have a look at you." The
deputy peered closely. "Nope! Sure looks like Pete, but it isn't.
'Nough like him to be his brother, though. Hey, Mex, what's your name?
What are you doin' around here?"
The Mexican didn't answer. He simply shrugged his shoulders, and stood
silent, his face expressionless.
"Speak up, boy! What's your name?"
Still no reply.
"Lost your tongue, Mex?" the Kid broke in. "Take my advice, and answer
when you're spoken to." The Kid touched his gun suggestively. Not
that he would have thought of enforcing his half-uttered threat, but he
simply wanted to show the Mexican they meant business.
At this the man gesticulated toward his throat, and a guttural sound
came from his lips.
"Why the pore cuss means he's dumb!" exclaimed Billee Dobb, who had
ridden in. "Can't speak! Hey you! No spik? No _habla_?"
The Mexican shook his head forcibly.
"A dumb Greaser!" cried the Kid. "Well, he's not much of a find. He's
the only one left of this outfit, though. Hey, Mex! Where's the boss?
Gone?"
With a widespread gesture of his arms the man indicated his lack of
knowledge of the subject. At least he seemed to understand a little
English.
"Can't get much out of him," Hawkins commented. "Well, boys, seems
like you'll have no more trouble takin' possession of the Shootin'
Star. It's yours. Say--" and he turned to their captive. "What's
your job? Vaquero? Herder? Cook?" At the last word the Mexican
nodded vigorously. "You're in luck, boys. Here's a cook all ready for
you. Got any food inside? Eats?" the deputy asked the Mexican. He
was answered with another affirmative shake of the head.
"Now you're all fixed up for the night. Might as well call in the
other two. What's their name again? Shannon, isn't it? Kid, you give
'em a yell. You seem to be able to do that particularly well."
Nort and Dick came riding over in response to the Kid's summons.
"Who's this you got, Kid?" asked Nort. "Some friend of yours? Why,
he's the Mexican we saw in Herb's!"
"No he isn't--that's what I thought too," Bud said. "Mr. Hawkins says
it's another--though it sure looks like him. This one's dumb."
"What do you mean--stupid?"
"No--can't talk. At least he says he can't--I mean he wants us to
understand that he can't." Bud corrected himself.
"I've got to be getting back," interrupted the deputy. "I suppose you
men will settle here, now that you've got a cook and food. That is, if
he'll cook for you and you want to take a chance that he won't poison
you. Hey, you--cook for _hombres_?"
Again that vigorous nod.
"Seems agreeable enough. Now if you want anything, you know where to
reach me. If it's at night, you'll find me down the street 'bout half
a mile from the office, on the same side. Anyone will tell you where
Joe Hawkins's place is. So long, boys. Again, good luck."
"Good-bye, Mr. Hawkins. We're much obliged to you for riding over with
us."
"Glad to do it, Bud. Any time at all. Git along there, bronc.
_Adios_!"
"So-long!"
"'Bye!"
"At last we're here," Nort declared. "No trace of anyone around; hey
Bud? Wonder what became of them. I wouldn't mind seeing our little
friend with the sawed-off shot-gun again."
"Let's not look for trouble," Dick suggested. "I think what happened
was that this fellow you call 'J. D.' decided to take the opportunity
to get out without trouble. I don't believe we'll see him again."
"Maybe not. We've got enough to worry about without him. Kid, suppose
you take charge of getting things ready for the night. Those sheep
won't be here for a week or so, and in the meantime we can fix things
up a bit. To-morrow I'll go scouting around for a good sheepman.
There ought to be plenty in town. All right, Kid, we're under your
orders."
"Check! Nort, you take the horses to the corral and see that they get
fed. I guess you'll find some feed around somewhere--there's a barn
down there a piece--look there. Dick, you go see what sort of sleepin'
quarters they got here. It might be well for us to stay here in the
house for the night. We can settle on a bunk house later. The rest of
you can make yourselves generally useful. I'll go 'tend to the eats.
Mex, we need food! Where's the kitchen?"
Apparently understanding, the Mexican led the way toward the rear,
followed by the Kid. The lay-out of the place was a great deal like
that of the ordinary cattle ranch. Indeed, if one were not wholly
familiar with the types of dwellings which dot the Texas border, he
would be hard put to show the difference between a cattle and a sheep
ranch. The corral of the cattle ranch would be built of stronger
boards, and on the sheep ranch, or "farm," there would be huge vats for
"dipping" the sheep, to cure them of any disease they might have
contracted.
But except for these minor differences the two ranches are much the
same. Of course the personnel of the sheep ranch would not be as
extensive as that of the cattle ranch--one herder being able to
adequately care for two thousand head of sheep. In shearing time the
ranch hands are increased, to take care of this added labor.
So it is not strange to find five hands prepared to take over the
management of a whole sheep ranch. Naturally it would be necessary to
hire some "sheep man" to handle the technical part of the venture, for
sheep are delicate creatures, and a green manager could easily lose his
whole herd in short order.
It was now five o'clock. With a fire roaring in the kitchen and the
ranchers hurrying here and there about the place, it seemed home-like
and cheerful.
"Be all set in half an hour," the Kid called to Bud as he stepped out
in the yard for a moment. "Found plenty of bacon and beans, and enough
other stuff to make a pretty fair meal. Reckon you-all can eat, if
you're anything like me. What do you think of the place, Bud?"
"Pretty fair, Kid, pretty fair. Looks as though we may be able to make
something of it. I've been thinking of buying a radio outfit to keep
us company on long winter evenings. You know we bring in the sheep
then, and we'll have to stick close to home to take care of them."
"A wireless! A sparkin' outfit! What are you goin' to do, Bud, put
them woolies to sleep with music?"
"Hardly that," Bud laughed. "You'll be glad we got it when you hear
some of the big fights being reported, just as though you were at the
ringside. But apart from that, what do you make of this situation,
Kid?"
"You mean comin' back here an' not findin' anybody? Gee, I don't know,
Bud! Might be any one of several reasons why this 'J. D.' bird skipped
out. 'Course I didn't actually see him, but something tells me he
couldn't stand a close look-in to his ways and means of business.
"'Course I shouldn't run down a guy that I never saw. But there's been
a lot of funny work goin' on in these parts, and if anyone wanted to be
crooked, this is the best place in the world for it. You know this
ranch property is right on the border line between Mexico and U. S."
"Say, Kid, look how dark it's getting all of a sudden," Bud interrupted
as he looked up into the sky and tested with his hand the direction of
the slight breeze blowing. "Wind's in the east. Rain, I guess.
Getting hotter, too. Why yes, Kid, I guess you're right about this
ranch being a good place to pull shady work. But I don't believe we'll
have any trouble."
The Kid whirled around. The next moment he was on his way inside.
"Get the others together!" he yelled. "There's a cyclone comin'!"
Bud scarcely heard him. He stood still, fascinated by the tremendous
spectacle.