cattle churned restlessly. Slim was impatient for the break that would
mean action, the break that he hoped would mean the end of the rustlers
in the Creeping Shadows country.
While the train crew unloaded the portable chute, the rustlers drove the
cattle nearer. Slim looked around at the riders grouped nearby.
Impatiently Joe was fingering his six gun and behind him Al Bass sat
calmly, his face tense and a little white. Three other horsemen were
ready to sweep out and cut off the escape of the rustlers.
Watching the approach of the cattle and the riders, Slim was not
surprised to recognize the squat, heavy form of Hack Cook, owner of the
Diamond Dot.
“I’m taking Cook,” muttered Joe, who recognized the Diamond Dot owner
just as Slim did. The cowboy detective nodded. He’d let Joe have the
first chance, for after all it was a feud between the ranches of the
valley. If Joe failed to get Cook, Slim knew that with Lightning under
him he could overtake anything in the country.
The rustlers whirled around the cattle, keeping them in a compact mass
as they neared the train. Suddenly there was a burst of gunfire. The
riflemen hidden in the bushes had blazed away.
A horse and rider went down. In another blast of lead a second rustler
threw up his hand and pitched from the saddle to lie inert upon the
ground.
Guns leaped into the hands of the remaining rustlers and they opened a
rapid fire on the riflemen. Joe spurred his horse, and the riders swept
out from behind the rock. Slim was riding easily, cautiously, ready to
take the trail of the first rustler who made a break for liberty.
“Get ’em all,” shouted Joe. “It’s the Diamond Dot outfit.”
The gunfire was savage, ripping the silence and hurling echoes against
the boxcars. The astonished train crew scurried for shelter.
The rustlers knew they were up against tremendous odds, for the
cattlemen far outnumbered them and were shooting from shelter.
Hack Cook whirled to meet the menace of the riders. He was using two
guns, both of them spouting flame and smoke. A Double O rider who had
leaped ahead of Slim slumped in his saddle and his fright-crazed horse
pitched him to the ground.
Another Diamond Dot rider went down before the hail of lead. There were
only three rustlers left, Hack Cook, one of his cowboys and Newt Bemis,
whom Slim knew as a henchman of Hal Titzell’s.
Slim saw Bemis shooting at Joe. He opened fire with his own six gun and
the second shot sent Bemis tumbling out of his saddle.
The remaining Diamond Dot cowboy made a dash for the train while Hack
Cook whirled his cayuse and rode straight toward Al Bass. Al didn’t
flinch, his own gun blazing away steadily at the two-gun desperado. But
Al never had a chance. Cook’s heavy bullet caught him in the shoulder
and he spun to the ground.
Slim had been too far away to get a draw on Cook, and the rustler broke
through the cordon of riders and dashed away up the trail leading
through the Cajons.
The cowboy detective paused only long enough to make sure that the other
rustler would be captured. Then he spoke to Lightning and set out in
pursuit of Cook.
The great sorrel could have overtaken the Diamond Dot owner within a
mile, but Slim had other plans. There was a fair chance that Cook,
ridden by fear, would lead him to the mountain hideout of the rustlers
and there Slim felt that he would find Chuck. He didn’t dare think that
anything had happened to Chuck, that he wouldn’t find his companion
alive.
Lightning struck an easy pace, keeping within sight of the fleeing Cook,
and Slim carefully reloaded his gun. Behind him the sound of firing died
out and he knew that the last Diamond Dot cowboy had either been brought
down by the blazing guns of the cowboys or had surrendered.
Slim looked down at the trail ahead and something in one of the
hoofprints made him pull Lightning to a sudden halt. He slid out of his
saddle. The left rear hoofprint of Cook’s horse was marked by a V-shaped
nick. There was no doubting it now. Cook was the man who had ambushed
the owner of the Box B. He was the rider who had directed the raids on
the Box B and the Double O in an attempt to get those outfits fighting
each other in a finish battle.
When Slim remounted, he rode with new determination. The rustling
mystery was near its solution.
Chapter Twenty-Two
In the Cajons
Chuck’s mind was vague and his head throbbed dully. The last thing he
could remember was firing wildly at guns flashing in the night.
Gradually his memory returned and he remembered the night raid by the
rustlers on the Box B cattle.
The riders had come silently out of the night, following a little draw
driving a small herd ahead of them. He had swept down on them after
giving the alarm and they had opened fire instantly. Then something had
struck his head, constellations had danced before his glazing eyes, and
he had collapsed in the saddle. How much time had elapsed or where he
was, were questions he couldn’t answer.
Chuck moved cautiously and learned that he was bound hand and foot. His
roving eyes took in his prison. He was lying on the floor of a lean-to,
one wall of which was formed by a larger cabin. It was daylight, for he
could see the sky through cracks in the roof, but there was no sound to
indicate that anyone was near.
The cowboy detective attempted to sit up, and after a painful ordeal,
managed to twist his body into a partially upright position. His hands
and feet were numb, but there was a little give in the ropes which held
his hands and he moved them steadily. The circulation returned to his
aching arms. For a time Chuck had hopes of freeing his hands, but he had
to give up in defeat and he rolled back onto the floor.
Hours passed before he heard the sound of horses and a few minutes later
two riders dismounted within a few feet of the lean-to. He could hear
their voices plainly. One he recognized as that of Hack Cook and the
other, though familiar, he could not identify.
“Where’s the kid?” he heard the unknown ask.
“Tied up on the floor of the lean-to. He’s got a back nick in his head
where one of our bullets grazed him last night.”
Well, that was something. Chuck knew that the raid had taken place only
the night before and from the waning sunlight, it must be late
afternoon.
The door of the lean-to opened and two masked men entered. The first one
he knew was the owner of the Diamond Dot, but the second he could not
identify.
Hack Cook bent down and looked at Chuck’s throbbing head.
“He ain’t hurt much. Couple of days and he’ll never know he was hit.”
“I’ll say he won’t,” put in the other rustler. “In a couple of more days
he’ll not care what happens. I’m positive this kid and that Slim Evans
are cattle dicks.”
“We searched Meade but didn’t find a thing,” replied Cook.
“Makes no difference. These boys are too dangerous to have loose on the
range. Why Evans was within a few minutes of you when you were riding in
the foothills of the Three Soldiers after you failed to bump off old man
Marks. If it hadn’t been for that rain, he’d have gotten you sure.
“Another thing, he’s looking for a man that rides a horse with a shoe
that’s got a V-shaped nick.”
“I fixed that,” growled Cook. “Had Doug Huston file a nick on one of the
shoes of Meade’s horse and we filed a couple on the horses of the other
boys. Say, there’s so many V-shaped nicks making tracks around this
valley that the fellow who tries to follow all of them will go crazy.”
“Then let’s hope that Evans tries to follow them all. That fellow’s just
plain dynamite.”
Chuck was hungry and he spoke up.
“How about something to eat?” he asked.
“Not tonight. We haven’t got any grub with us. Maybe we’ll be back
tomorrow.”
“Then give me a drink.”
Cook laughed harshly. “It’ll do you good to get thirsty. Give you an
idea of what we’re going to do with you when we have time.”
They stepped outside and slammed the door. Chuck could hear them
conversing outside.
“When are you going to ship the cattle?” asked the unidentified rustler.
“Day after tomorrow. Can’t get cars until then,” replied Cook.
“Well, keep a close eye on Meade. I’m going back to Dirty Water. After
the cattle are safely out I’ll come back and we’ll decide just how we’ll
dispose of this fellow.”
They mounted their horses and rode rapidly away, leaving Chuck alone,
without food or water. The air grew chill, and he spent a miserable
night.
It was mid morning when he heard a lone rider coming toward the cabin.
The horseman dismounted and opened the door. Like the visitors of the
day before he was masked, but he had a jug of water and some food. He
untied the ropes that bound Chuck’s hands and, gun in hand, squatted on
the other side of the lean-to while Chuck wolfed the food. His lips were
cracked from lack of water and his stomach ached with a great emptiness,
but the coarse food soon gave him new energy. If the masked rustler
would only come close enough for him to lunge. Chuck eyed the distance
with a calculating eye.
“Turn around,” commanded the gunman. Chuck was forced to obey, and the
rope was slipped over his hands again. The lean-to was in semi-darkness
and Chuck managed to tense his hands. Perhaps there would be a little
slack when the rustler finished tying the knots.
Chuck was hurled over on his back and the rustler slammed the door and
rode away. It was not until Chuck was sure that he was quite alone
again, that he renewed his attempt to loosen his bonds. The rope around
his wrists gave slightly and he worked steadily, straining against the
bonds. Night came and in spite of himself he fell asleep.
At dawn he was at the painful task again, straining and tugging, and
making a little progress all of the time. At last his left hand slipped
free, then his right, and with shaking fingers he untied the knots that
had held his legs fast.
His legs were so numb that he was forced to crawl out of the lean-to on
his hands and knees. Once outside he rested in the bright sunlight,
blinking his eyes against the unaccustomed light. He massaged the
muscles of his legs until the circulation was back to normal and then he
stood up. It was great to be free again.
At a nearby stream Chuck washed his face and hands and gingerly felt of
the wound on his head. Nature had done a good job of healing it and
unless he got another severe bump, it should heal all right.
Chuck took time to survey his prison. The cabin and lean-to were in the
heart of the Cajons, an old trail leading away to the left. It was along
this that the rustlers who had visited the cabin traveled. There
appeared to be no other exit from the valley and Chuck set out along the
trail, walking carefully.
For better than a mile he followed the winding path. Then it opened
suddenly into a wider valley and Chuck looked down on the hiding place
of the rustlers of the Creeping Shadows.
There was plenty of water here and lots of rich grass. A large pole
corral had been built near the far end of the valley where the mountains
closed in again. Down there was also a large cabin. The whole valley
appeared deserted except for a calico cayuse which was in a smaller
corral. Chuck’s heart leaped as he recognized his own horse.
Keeping under shelter as much as possible he made his way down the
valley. The entire layout was deserted and he entered the cabin. His
saddle and rifle as well as six-gun were piled against one wall and with
eager hands Chuck fastened the gun belt around his waist. There was food
in the cabin and he soon had a good meal. Rifle in hand and saddle over
one shoulder, he started for the corral. Refreshed by the food, he was
ready to hit the road.
The dusty trail leading out of the larger corral indicated that a small
herd of cattle had been driven out of it a short time before and Chuck
picked up the trail and followed it, angling always a little to the
left.
A few minutes later the smaller trail joined the one Slim had followed
through the mountains, the path the rustlers used in running the cattle
out of the Creeping Shadows over to the railroad. Chuck had stumbled on
the hiding place where they held the stolen livestock until time to ship
them out from the railroad.
Still following the trail of the cattle, Chuck swung toward the
railroad. He rode steadily, ever watchful lest he run into another trap
of the rustlers. At noon he was well down the east side of the Cajons
and he saw the local freight pulling down the main line and stop, but he
was still some miles away, too great a distance to see what happened
after the freight stopped.
Chuck spurred his cayuse into a full gallop, rocketing down out of the
Cajon foothills. The trail straightened out and a lone rider, coming at
a furious pace, came into sight.
Chuck swung his cayuse off the trail, slid from the saddle, and found
shelter behind a rock. The oncoming rider had been too busy looking
behind him to see Chuck.
It was Hack Cook, owner of the Diamond Dot. Then Slim galloped into view
and Chuck snuggled his cheek down against the butt of his rifle and
voted himself a large-sized share of the chase.
Much as he knew the rustler deserved to be shot down without mercy,
Chuck couldn’t quite bring himself to that. Lining his sights on the
oncoming rider, he pressed the trigger. There was a tiny spurt of smoke
from the rifle and Hack Cook catapulted from the saddle, drilled neatly
through the right shoulder.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The Confession
Slim rode easily, keeping the fleeing owner of the Diamond Dot within
sight. They pushed deeper into the Cajon foothills and Slim knew that
Cook’s horse would soon commence to slow down under the pace, which was
gruelling for the average range horse.
In desperation Cook dismounted and unlimbered his rifle but Slim,
sensing the move before the rustler had found cover, dropped out of his
saddle and fired rapidly at the Diamond Dot man. Cook was beaten at his
own game and he leaped back into the saddle to continue the race against
certain capture.
If he could only hold out until nightfall there was just a chance that
he could escape, but Slim had no intention of allowing the rustler to do
that. He was closing the gap steadily when the trail opened into a long,
narrow defile in the mountains.
Cook spurred his tiring horse madly, while Slim gave Lightning her head.
It was a good place to end the chase. He slipped his rifle out of the
scabbard and lined up the sights. Before he could raise the weapon to
his shoulder he saw Cook topple from his saddle to lie motionless along
the trail.
Slim pulled Lightning up sharply. Perhaps it was a trick of the
rustler’s, a ruse to bring him within sure range.
Slim dismounted and moved forward warily, his rifle ready for instant
use. Then the echo of hoofs warned him of the approach of another rider
and up ahead Chuck burst into view on his calico cayuse. It was then
that Slim knew Cook’s fall from the saddle was no ruse. He had been shot
down by Chuck, who had suddenly voted himself a hand in the play.
The Flying Arrow cowboy was the first to reach the wounded rustler. Cook
was still dazed from the shock of the wound and the fall, but he was not
seriously injured. Relieving him of his weapons, Slim looked up just as
Chuck arrived in a thunder of drumming hoofs and a cloud of dust.
“Where under the sun did you come from?” demanded the astonished Slim.
“I’ll tell you all about that later. Did I get that skunk?” Chuck
pointed toward the rustler.
“Through the right shoulder,” nodded Slim. “If you hadn’t cut in on the
play when you did, I was figuring on stopping his travels in about
another second.”
“Yeh, but I owed him a little more than you did. What’s happened since I
did the disappearing act?”
“We had a little fireworks along the railroad this afternoon,” smiled
Slim. “Seemed a half dozen hombres were shipping some Box B cattle under
another name and we put a stop to it.”
“Did you get them all?”
“Counting Cook here, they’re all in the bag.”
“That must just about clean out the gang,” said Chuck.
“There’s a few more, but we’ll round them up in time.”
“I’ve got a score to settle with one of them,” said Chuck, relating
briefly how he had been held captive. He was especially incensed at his
treatment at the hands of the masked man who had accompanied Hack Cook
on the visit of the Diamond Dot owner to the hideout where he had been
held captive.
“I’m going to find out who that fellow was,” went on Chuck.
“I think I know,” put in Slim, “but if you can get Cook to tell you, so
much the better.”
They bent over the rustler, who was now thoroughly aware of his
dangerous situation. Slim tore off a piece of Cook’s shirt and bound up
the shoulder wound.
“Give me a drink of water,” the rustler begged.
“Not on your life,” snapped Chuck. “You fellows didn’t treat me any too
well. I want to know the name of the hombre that was with you.”
Cook’s face whitened, but his lips tensed and he only shook his head.
“So that’s the way it is,” said Chuck grimly. “Believe me, you’re going
to talk.”
The Circle Four cowboy took the rope off his saddle and deftly slipped a
noose around Cook’s shoulders.
“What are you going to do?” demanded Slim, who wasn’t sure whether Chuck
was in earnest or was merely trying to scare the rustler.
“I’m going to drag the information I want out of this cheap desperado,”
replied the cowboy detective.
Chuck walked toward his horse, straightened the rope out after him. Cook
attempted to free himself, but Chuck had done a neat job.
The Circle Four cowboy mounted his cayuse and turned back to Cook.
“There’s one more chance. Who was with you?”
Still the rustler’s lips were sealed and with a warning glance at Slim
not to interfere, Chuck spoke to his horse. The cayuse moved ahead and
the rope tightened.
A startled cry broke from Cook’s lips.
“I’ll talk!” he screamed, “I’ll talk! Don’t drag me over these rocks.”
Chuck dismounted.
“I thought it would work,” he grinned at Slim. “This fellow’s yellow
clear through.”
The cowboy detectives bent over Cook.
“Talk fast,” Chuck warned him. “If you don’t I’ll take you for a real
ride.”
Cook moistened his lips. It was plain that he was reluctant to talk and
only Chuck’s threat of a terrible punishment had loosened his tongue.
“It was Titzell,” he muttered. “Titzell got us into this jam. He was too
greedy. He wanted everything.”
Slim looked at Chuck. He had been right. Titzell was the leader of the
rustlers. Disguised as a cattle buyer, he had ridden the length and
breadth of the valley, spotting choice stock to be run off by the gang
later.
“Who else is in the gang?” insisted the relentless Chuck.
“They’ll kill me if they learn I’ve squealed,” begged Cook.
“If you don’t talk, they’ll never see you again,” promised Slim.
“There’s Maxie Denkman and Leo Kovec and Newt Bemis, besides the boys on
my own place.”
“How many have you got there?”
“Ten altogether, but you got four of them and Newt Bemis when you jumped
us at the train.”
“That leaves six more Diamond Dot riders, plus Maxie Denkman and the
marshal at Dirty Water,” said Slim. “Maxie’s out of the way, because I
put a slug in his elbow when he tried that ambush on the Sky High
trail.”
“Where’s the other six?” demanded Chuck.
“Two of the boys are watching the Sky High trail, two of them are over
on the trail through the Three Soldiers and the last two are on the
trail from the valley south.”
“Think he’s telling the truth?” Chuck asked.
The tall cowboy nodded and walked over and picked up Cook’s rifle.
Calmly he fired a bullet into the ground and then picked up the spent
shell. He produced another cartridge from an inner pocket and compared
the firing pin marks on the base of the shell.
“I guess your days are numbered,” he told Cook when he turned back. “The
shell from your gun corresponds exactly with one I found at the scene of
the ambush of Adam Marks and your horse has the same V-shaped nick on
the left rear shoe.”
“There’s marks like that all over the range. That don’t prove anything.”
“Oh yes, it does. Remember that I’ll testify I heard you and Titzell
talking about that in the cabin and you figured you were pretty smart to
file marks like that on a number of shoes.”
Chuck’s words crushed the last resistance in the rustler.
It was twilight when the first of the Box B riders came up the trail.
Pat Beals was ahead and the cowboy detectives placed Hack Cook in his
hands for safekeeping.
“Where you going?” Pat demanded.
“To finish the job of cleaning up this gang of rustlers,” said Slim.
“We’ll see you tomorrow sometime at the ranch.”
Before Pat could protest, Slim and Chuck spurred away up the trail,
determined to strike fast and hard at the rest of the rustlers.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Showdown
The sky was clear that night and the trail through the Cajons was easy
to follow. They stopped at the rustlers’ hideout and cooked a late
supper.
“I’ve got a little errand to do,” said Chuck, leaving the campfire. He
mounted and disappeared up the sidetrail. A few minutes later Slim saw
tongues of flame licking above the tree tops. Chuck had set fire to the
cabin where he had been held captive.
Before they left, they got an axe from the main cabin and chopped away
the main poles of the corral. Then, fastening ropes on the other poles,
they pulled the whole structure down. Again a match was touched to the
corral and cabin and flames licked hungrily at the dry wood.
“There’ll be no more use of this layout by rustlers,” said Chuck grimly.
From then on they rode at an easy pace for it was useless to attempt to
reach Dirty Water before morning. Stopping at the line camp, they found
Lee Wu keeping guard and the cook rustled them an early breakfast.
They told him briefly of what had happened at the railroad and how they
had set fire to the rustlers’ hideout.
“Plenty good,” the Chinaman grinned, giving them extra portions of
bacon. “Plenty good.”
Before they left the line camp, Slim wrote a note to Joe Haines. He had
slipped badly, having forgotten to tell Pat Beals that rustlers were
still stationed on three trails leading out of the valley.
It was this information he left in the note, urging Joe to send riders
out at once to capture the other rustlers.
Then Slim and Chuck pressed on. Dawn found them nearing Dirty Water and
the village was just beginning to show signs of life when they rode
across the creek and tied their horses at the rail in front of the
Palace Hotel.
“They eat early here,” said Slim. “You stay outside and be ready to take
care of any of the boys who decide to get away in a hurry.”
“You’re not going into the hotel alone,” protested Chuck.
“I’m going to do that very thing,” said Slim with a definiteness that
Chuck knew was final. “I’m counting on you to discourage them if they
get outside. Remember, we want Hal Titzell, Leo Kovec and Maxie
Denkman.”
“I’ll remember,” promised Chuck.
Slim looked up and down the street. Pike Carberry and Jim Ferris were
coming down from Carberry’s store for breakfast at the hotel. They
greeted Slim cordially.
“Better not go in to breakfast just yet,” said Slim.
“Why not?” asked Carberry.
“There may be trouble,” replied the cowboy detective. “Just wait a bit.”
Jim Ferris looked around at Chuck, who was lounging nearby with his
rifle in his hands.
“He’s right,” he advised the storekeeper. “I’ll be satisfied with cheese
and crackers. Come on.”
They turned and hurried back to the store and Slim stepped into the
small lobby of the hotel. Sounds from the dining room indicated that
breakfast was in progress.
Slim took off his hat and pinned the small shield that had been hidden
there on his vest. Then he walked into the dining room. There were four
men at the long table, the hotel owner at the head with Hal Titzell at
his right. On the other side were Leo Kovec and Maxie Denkman and Maxie,
with his wounded arm, was making a poor job of eating the hot cereal.
Titzell looked up as Slim entered.
“Hello, there. What’s the news from the wide open spaces?”
“Plenty,” said Slim easily. Then Titzell’s eyes caught the gleam of the
small shield on Slim’s vest and the smile vanished. In its place came an
expression of repressed fury and alarm.
“Seems as though some of the Diamond Dot boys were caught trying to ship
some Box B cattle yesterday afternoon,” said Slim.
Maxie Denkman sneezed into the cereal and Leo Kovec let his fork drop
with a clatter.
“Anybody hurt?” asked Titzell, his voice low and tense.
“Plenty of the Diamond Dot boys and it seems as though I recall seeing a
friend of yours being shot out of the saddle.”
“Who was that?” asked Maxie.
“Newt Bemis.” Slim’s eyes never left Titzell for he knew that if there
were to be fireworks, Titzell would start the trouble.
But Titzell never batted an eye and Slim gave him another shock.