Dear Jim:
Frank Allenby, the biggest cattleman in Moolock, is
_up against a very dangerous proposition and needs help._
It looks like a plain case of spite work by somebody and
_you can make five thousand dollars for a few days work._
This gang of rustlers are able to pull off big jobs
_and get away without the slightest chance of anyone_
detecting them. Your work must be done without anyone
_knowing who you are; sabe?_
I will explain everything to you when you get here.
_You will like Allenby. If you can’t take this job, Jim, it_
will disappoint me greatly. If you come, keep it dark, or it
_might make things very bad. Wire your decision._
Sincerely
Ed.
“And that’s what Clayton meant for Seeley to read, eh?” asked Forty
Dollar.
Hashknife nodded. “Yeah, it seems that it was, Forty. If yuh notice, he
had all the lines pretty even, and left plenty of room at the margins. I
kinda wondered about it all bein’ so kinda regular; so I got to skippin’
around for the answer. I’ve heard of things like this bein’ done before.
“I got to findin’ out a few things about Bud Bell’s case, and I heard
about the rustler ventin’ the whole shoulder of them two cows. That
wasn’t accordin’ to Hoyle, and there must ’a’ been a reason. The 27A
Outfit brand on the right shoulder.
“There was the rustler without a hat, if yuh remember. If Clayton found
that hat belonged to some one he wanted to protect or put the deadwood
on to, what could be easier. But he first had to blot out that other
brand on the shoulder and put one on the hip. The HB brands on the hip,
and the HB was already in bad with the Half-Circle Cross. Does it look
easier now?”
“----, it sounds good,” agreed Swan River, scratching his head. “But
that was kinda flimsy evidence.”
“Worse evidence than that sent Bud Bell to prison. Somebody stole
three hundred head of stock out of a loadin’ pen the night we came
to Moolock. The stock cars came too late to load the night before;
so they had to leave the cattle in the pens. Sam Bass got them cars,
didn’t he? I started guessin’ from there.
“They wasn’t makin’ money enough off Allenby’s stock; so they started
holdin’ up trains and stages. They had to steal June Allenby to save
themselves. Down in the east of that road I found a red bead. It was
just a ordinary bead--like them that ornament the pockets on Sam
Bass’s vest. It wasn’t much, but it pointed the way.
“Me and Sleepy found June in the cellar at the 27A ranch tonight. Bud
Bell went lookin’ for her and got knocked on the head.
“They put him into the cellar with her, and nailed the door tight. I
killed their cook. He knew that his cake was all dough; so he went
for his gun. He had eighteen hundred dollars in his valise. I reckon
that about closes the chapter.”
“June is across the street?” asked Allenby. He had been in sort of a
trance.
“Yeah, she’s over there,” said Sleepy. “They didn’t hurt her.”
Allenby whirled and ran out. Bud came in. He was dirty and bloody, but
he knew that now he could look every man in the face. His convict brand
had been wiped away.
“They told me about it, Hartley,” he said, as he looked at the four men
on the floor. “I dunno how it was all done, but I’m glad. I’m not much
on thankin’ anybody.”
“You don’t need to thank me, Bud, ’cause yore welcome.”
The doctor arrived on the scene and Hashknife walked outside with Sleepy
and Forty Dollar.
* * * * *
Over at the hotel, June Allenby was holding an impromptu reception,
assisted by her father. As soon as Allenby saw Hashknife he left the
crowd and came straight to him.
“Hartley, I haven’t even thanked you yet. I have had so many shocks
lately that I’m not responsible for what I am doing. June has told me
something of how you found her. My ----, man, you don’t know what you
have done for me. I’ve got my girl back, and Harry is going to live.
I tell you, I could shout for joy.”
“Go ahead,” Hashknife smiled wearily.
June was coming to them, holding out her hand to Hashknife.
“I can thank you now,” she said simply.
“Yo’re welcome, Miss Allenby.” He smiled at her and turned to her
father, “If you want to thank me real hard, Allenby, go over and make
yore peace with Hank Bell. You’ve done him an awful wrong-- and this
is the time to right it.”
“Yes, I’ll do that,” said Allenby slowly. “I owe him a lot of apologies,
Hartley. Perhaps I should apologize to the whole world. Before I go, I
would like to ask you a question. Who was the man who was branding the
cattle--the man whose crime was placed on Bud Bell?”
Hashknife squinted painfully for a moment. It seemed that he was
trying to remember. He looked at June, who was staring at him, her
eyes pleading.
“That man,” he hesitated. “That man was Pinon Meade, I reckon.”
“I see,” Allenby nodded quickly. “I’m going over to ask Bud Bell and his
father to forgive me, and then I’m going to write you each a check.”
Allenby fairly ran across toward the Elk saloon and June came to
Hashknife, placing a hand on his arm.
“Mr. Hartley,” she said softly, “I want to thank you for that. I guess
you know why I couldn’t answer your question out at the 27A ranch-house.
Sam Bass told me the whole thing. Blood is thicker than justice, at a
time like this. Perhaps I was thinking more of mother than of dad.”
“Mebbe I was too,” said Hashknife, smiling at her. “I reckon it will be
all right from now on, ma’am. I was sure scared of how it might end; but
it’s all right now.”
“Yes, it’s all right now, thanks to you--you lovable liar.”
Hashknife laughed softly and turned as Bud Bell came running from the
saloon. He grasped Hashknife by the arm, as he said--
“Hartley, they’re havin’ a drink together--her dad and mine! And her dad
told me to come over and take care of her, while they talked about the
future. Can yuh beat that?”
“No, yuh can’t,” Hashknife agreed warmly. “I’m sure glad, folks. And
you take care of her, Bud. She’s a game little girl, and by golly,
she’s worth takin’ care of. C’mon, Sleepy.”
They turned away and walked over to the hitch-rack. It was about the
only place where they would be safe from questioning tongues, and
neither of them had smoked a cigaret since Hashknife had discovered
the nails in the trap door at the 27A.
Neither of them spoke until their cigarets were nearly gone. The crowd
at the Elk were helping to clean up the place. Frosty and Joe were on
the sidewalk in front of the saloon, trying to get some one to explain
what it was all about. Outside of Hashknife and Sleepy, they were the
only people in Moolock who were not excited; they had slept through it
all.
“Lovable liar,” said Sleepy seriously, “it comes to me that there must
’a’ been sort of an agreement between Sam Bass and Harry Allenby before
Harry tried to misbrand them two cows.”
“Yeah, I suppose,” said Hashknife softly. “Allenby stinginess drove the
kid to steal. Clayton saved him from the pen. Clayton could use the kid
to put him in with the 27A, and together they robbed Allenby blind.
“But it seems like they kinda fell out all around. Clayton hired Seeley,
without tellin’ Sam Bass and Harry. Seeley was the victim of a mistake.
Probably Harry told Bass that Seeley was a detective, not knowin’ that
Clayton had hired him. Mebbe Clayton and Seeley had somethin’ framed up
for themselves. Clayton had trouble with ’em, probably over June’s part
of the deal, and one of ’em tried to kill Clayton.
“I reckon that Harry was dangerous to their game. He drank and talked
too much. Very likely he knew where June was, and threatened to talk
if they didn’t let her loose. That was why they tried to kill him. It
kinda looks like they all knew that this three-handed game was a
losin’ proposition.
“When I heard that Sam Bass was sellin’ out to Frosty Welcome tonight,
I knew that my cards were all aces. It was just another case of too
many cooks, Sleepy. The 27A outfit had it all fixed to skip out of the
country tonight. I reckon they were all goin’ to pull out on that
midnight train. I had to guess at quite a lot of things, but I had
enough straight dope to tie up the weak spots.”
Hashknife threw away his cigaret and leaned against the hitch-rack.
“Sleepy, do yuh know the only way to be half-way successful as a crook?”
“Yeah,” nodded Sleepy. “I know two ways.”
“No, yuh don’t, cowboy; there’s only one way.”
“There’s two, Hashknife. One way is to play a lone hand.”
“All right,” agreed Hashknife. “What’s the other one?”
“To kill you when you first show up in the country.”
Hashknife laughed softly and began rolling another cigaret.
“That’s appreciation, pardner. I think more of that than I do of
Allenby’s check. It ain’t my policy to shift guilt onto a dead man;
but I reckon it won’t hurt Pinon Meade’s soul to have an extra cattle
rustlin’ charge on the books against him. It won’t hurt him, but it
will save a lot of heart-aches down here; so I’ll let ’em chalk one
more lie against my record. June knows the truth, and mebbe that’ll
keep Harry goin’ straight. It kinda levels things out for Hank and
Bud; so I reckon we come out just about even.”
They left the hitch-rack, going back toward the store, and ran into Swan
River Smith.
“Been lookin’ all over for yuh,” he said. “Allenby wants yuh. Him and
Hank Bell had six drinks apiece and Allenby is goin’ to buy out the
HB outfit, make Bud foreman and--here’s a couple of checks to give
yuh--and yore goin’ to be best man at a weddin’, and ---- only knows
what they ain’t figured out.
“Them two jiggers shore do work fast. You’d think they was long
separated brothers; honest, yuh would. Somebody told Harry how it all
came out, and he wants yuh to come down right away, and--say, you
fellers can have Moolock, if yuh want it.”
Hashknife took the checks and handed one to Sleepy.
“We’ll be over there as soon as we put up our horses, Swan River.”
“Well, all right. Make it as soon as yuh can.”
Hashknife and Sleepy hurried to the rack, mounted their horses, and
Hashknife led the way out of town, heading south, passing the
livery-stable.
“Where are we goin’ to put up our horses?” asked Sleepy.
“Probably in the next town we come to,” grinned Hashknife. “Best man
at a weddin’, eh? Not me, cowboy. I’m huntin’ for a place where I can
settle down in peace. Moolock don’t need us at a weddin’.”
And so they faded out of the Moolock country, heading into unknown
ranges, leaving behind them a lot of grateful people, who waited for
them in vain.
They had brought happiness to those who deserved it, and to one, who,
in the eyes of society, possibly did not deserve it. But the eyes of
society were of little consequence to Hashknife and Sleepy--the Lovable
Liar and his innocent-eyed partner. The checks were for twenty-five
hundred dollars each. All of which, as Hashknife remarked, proved that
Allenby did not get financially overjoyed.
“Thasall right,” stated Sleepy, as they drifted along under the stars.
“We’re lucky to get anything, Hashknife.”
“How’s that, Sleepy?”
“He offered the money for a conviction.”
Which he did not get, and which also proves that Allenby was just a
little excited. He might have made it a point to argue over.
[Transcriber’s Note: This story appeared in the January 20, 1925 issue
of Adventure magazine.]