RICKER’S WARNING
Mason was up at sunrise the next morning and set out at once for the
bunk-house. He had determined to have another talk with MacNutt and
have the man clear up a suspicion that was beginning to take shape in
his mind. He had been convinced all along that things were not right
at the Ricker ranch, and Waneda’s late and unexpected arrival the
night before had clouded his mind with mystery. MacNutt’s strange
actions in the last few days and his sister’s startling revelations
concerning his father had him sorely troubled. In this state of mind
he approached the bunk-house and found the cowboys forming in line
under Bud Anderson’s leadership. They made a fine spectacle as they
sat mounted and at attention while Bud was tolling off the ones that
were to ride the range this day, and the more fortunate ones that were
to remain to entertain the visitors. Mason’s sharp glance failed to
make out MacNutt among the riders.
“I gave MacNutt leave to go to Trader’s Post,” Bud called in answer to
an inquiry from Mason. The foreman’s face wore a broad grin. “He isn’t
any use to me and as we are going to do some trick riding to-day, I
was glad to have him out of the way,” the foreman added. Mason thanked
him for the information and started for the house. His face wore a
grim smile. “No one seems to take that MacNutt person seriously but
me,” he mused softly, “but if I don’t miss my guess, he’s fooling them
all.”
Before he reached the house he met the girls coming his way, and
wonder of all wonders, they were being escorted by Percy Vanderpool
himself. The fop wore a different suit from the one he had on when he
arrived at the ranch and it was even more loud and flashy, but when
Mason saw that he also sported a cane, he groaned aloud.
“Why, I wouldn’t be in his boots to-day for a million dollars,” he
told himself, “what the cowboys won’t say and do when he appears to
them in that rig will be a sin. But oh, a fool for luck, and just see
the girls hang on to him.”
The girls had spied Mason, but were pretending to be wrapped in
Percy’s conversation, while he was strutting and bragging
outrageously.
Not to carry the farce too far the girls were slowly making their way
toward Mason.
“What time did you get up this morning, Sir Jack?” Josephine called to
him.
“Just about sunrise,” he answered, quickening his stride to join them.
“But you don’t look very good-natured for such a fine morning,” his
sister said in a bantering tone.
“I feel good enough,” he returned shortly, giving her a sharp glance.
“It’s a fact that fools rush in where angels fear to tread.”
He was looking hard at Percy as he spoke. He never had liked the
fellow any too well, and wanted to put a check to his bragging. At any
rate the words had no effect on Percy for he strutted and bragged as
much as before. Josephine was laughing silently while trying to signal
to Mason not to pay any attention to Percy. Finally she drew Mason
aside and engaged him in conversation.
“You must not mind the way us girls carry on,” she was saying
earnestly, “your sister is out here for a good time and Percy is a
curiosity to us. We know he is a harmless creature with more money
than brains, for didn’t you say so yourself, Sir Jack?”
He looked a little sheepish.
“Come, now,” she continued, “take us down to see the cowboys, we have
a little time before breakfast and your sister is quite interested in
Bud Anderson. She thinks he is about right, and I want you to help me
in showing her a good time while she stays at the ranch.”
He stirred uneasily.
“Who is the more interested in Bud, you or Ethel?”
He put the question suddenly.
They had drawn a short distance away from Ethel and Percy. Josephine
remained silent, her fingers busily toying with her handkerchief.
“You haven’t answered my question,” he continued relentlessly.
“That is for you to find out, Sir Jack,” she answered naively, and
broke away from him to join Ethel and Percy.
“Come, Ethel, Sir Jack looks real blue and we’re all going down to the
corral,” she said.
Mason fell into step with Josephine and the girl seemed puzzled by his
abstracted manner.
“You are looking real gloomy this morning, Sir Jack. Please tell me
what is worrying you.”
He saw a look of concern come into her eyes.
“Well, little Princess, I’ll tell you,” he said gravely. “I wanted to
see MacNutt this morning to find out about the Spanish girl’s case.
MacNutt had gone to Trader’s Post, so I didn’t find out anything from
him. Did you question the girl this morning as you intended to?”
“Yes,” Josephine answered, keeping her eyes fixed straight ahead of
her. “Waneda didn’t tell me anything more than I found out last night,
and I think we will have to look to MacNutt to explain the reason of
her coming here.”
“Of course,” she continued, “I am willing that the girl should stay
here just as long as she wants to, if I was sure that she is all
right. Anyway, you seem to take a great interest in her.”
He looked up at her in surprise.
“What makes you think that?”
“I should think,” she answered, “that after a girl had brought you a
decoy note as she did, that you couldn’t trust her.”
“I am still convinced that Waneda didn’t know what that first note
contained,” he protested warmly, “and that she had been made a tool by
the Ricker faction.”
“Your faith is wonderful.”
There was a touch of sarcasm in her voice.
He felt the sting of it keenly. They were now far in advance of Ethel
and Percy. Mason stopped and placed himself in her path.
“Josephine,” he spoke rapidly, “I don’t care for Waneda or any girl,
only you.”
She drew herself up haughtily.
“Please let us not continue this subject,” she said, eyeing him
coldly, “there is Bud just ahead of us and I wish to talk with him.”
Before he could prevent her she had passed swiftly by him while he
stood staring blankly after her.
“Now, what have I said to offend her?” he demanded angrily of himself.
Bitterly condemning himself for having said something out of the way,
and racking his brains in vain to think what it was, he made his way
to the corral in a disturbed frame of mind.
“Josephine must think I am a clumsy brute, and I don’t know as I blame
her. Jack, you always did have a fool way of putting your blundering
foot in bad with the women, but this girl, oh hell, but I have made a
mess of things.”
Thus harshly denouncing himself, he paused at the corral. Josephine’s
favorite horse, Fleet, caught his eye, and leaping the bars he took a
lump of sugar from his pocket and held it out temptingly to the
animal. Fleet gave a whinny of delight and raced over to him.
“Anyway, I can keep on good terms with you, can’t I, old top?”
The horse munched the sugar and tried to put his soft nose into
Mason’s pocket.
“No more, Fleet,” he said gently, “or I will be winning you away from
Josephine, and then she would have another chance to get sore at me.”
From where he stood he could see Josephine and his sister; they were
talking gaily with Bud, while Percy was staring at the cowboys from a
safe distance.
They were gathered in a small group and as Mason watched, one of them
started to walk past his comrades, imitating Percy’s walk and
mannerisms.
Mason’s good nature returned with a burst of humor.
The cowboy was really a good actor and he imitated Percy’s ways to
perfection. Evidently the cowboys had planned on a fake fight for
Percy’s benefit. The cowboy paused in his walk and a violent quarrel
took place between him and one of the men.
Percy was staring at them with horror in his eyes.
Suddenly one of them pulled his gun and firing from his hip brought
the quarrel to an end. The other cowboy sank to the ground as though
mortally wounded. Percy gave one look and fled to the house.
The incident caused a hearty laugh from all the men, but Josephine
cautioned the cowboy not to repeat the performance. Soon after the
breakfast bell rang and Mason joined his sister and Josephine on their
way to the house.
“You missed the fun, Sir Jack,” Josephine said, her eyes sparkling
with mischief.
“No, I didn’t,” he retorted, vaguely wondering at her change of
manner. “I was in the corral and saw all that took place, and believe
me, it was amusing.”
“I will have to square myself with Percy, he will think we are all
roughnecks out here,” she said, a little frown wrinkling her face.
“Nonsense,” he laughed, “I’ll just go right up to Percy and say,
‘What’s the matter, old chappie, don’t let a little thing like that
frighten you, old chap. It’s a common occurrence out here, old top,
dontcherknow, or don’t you know?’”
“You will do nothing of the kind,” Josephine cried, eyeing him
severely; “why, you would scare the poor fellow away.”
“Small loss,” he answered, smiling again as he thought of the
incident.
Josephine disdained to answer him. There was an appetizing breakfast
awaiting them at the house, and for once Mason was as hungry as a
wolf. Josephine made all hands wait, however, until she had her mother
go to Percy’s room and drag him from his lair. It was evident that she
had succeeded for the party could hear him following her downstairs.
Percy was soon made to feel at ease for all acted as though the
incident was forgotten. In the course of an hour they all assembled
near the corral where the cowboys were beginning to show off their
various stunts. Ethel was especially struck with the way one cowboy,
running his horse at full speed, swept another man off the ground with
apparent ease and swung him in front of him, his horse keeping up his
terrific rush with scarcely a break. She clapped her hands in
admiration at this feat of horsemanship. Percy seemed awestruck at the
reckless daring of the riders and when the men passed in review after
the sport was over, his eyes were held as fascinated at the sight of
the guns sticking out of the cowboys’ belts. Bud Anderson had ordered
his men to go armed since the Ricker faction had showed such open
hostility of late.
Mason had noticed MacNutt during the cowboy games, but the man did not
take part in any of the riding.
“MacNutt didn’t go to Trader’s Post after all,” he mused thoughtfully,
“now where did the fellow go?” Happening to look over in Josephine’s
direction, Mason saw that she was carrying the field glasses that he
had presented to her. The girl evidently took delight in them for she
occasionally swept the trail and far off mountains with them. He was
walking slowly over to join her when he heard her give a startled
exclamation.
“What is it?” he questioned, hastening to her side.
“Riders coming this way, and quite a body of them,” her voice seemed
lost in wonder as she answered him.
“Oh, they are Ricker’s cowboys,” she continued, “run and tell Dad and
Bud, quick!”
Mason quickly informed Bud and the ranch owner of Josephine’s
discovery.
Bud hastily gathered the cowboys around him.
“Now, boys,” he said in clear, concise tones, “Ricker is coming here
and I don’t know for what purpose, but if he and his men are looking
for trouble we will give it to them quick enough. Don’t none of you
men draw until you see me draw first. Is that clear to you?”
His eyes took on a steely glint as he spoke the last words. There was
a murmur of assent from the men, but Tex stepped forward with an air
of defiance.
“I don’t allow we’re going to stand by and see you get plugged first
by Ricker,” he growled sullenly, “we all know Ricker is the quickest
man in this part of the country that ever throwed a gun, and Bud, we
don’t aim to stand by and give him a chance to throw his gun first.”
Bud listened calmly, the muscles of his face hardening.
“You will do just as I ordered, Tex.”
The words were spoken so low and without any trace of passion, that
Mason could scarcely hear him. Then Bud placed his men after
cautioning them again.
Mason could see he held marvelous control over them, and he began to
understand why the ranch owner had made him foreman.
Waneda, the Spanish girl, had crept up to Mason while Bud was
addressing his men, and she seemed strangely agitated at the news that
Ricker and his men were coming.
Mason felt sorry for this poor waif of the plains and wished that
Josephine would be more kind to her. It wasn’t Josephine’s nature to
be harsh with anybody, he reasoned, but he could see that she seemed
to hold a strong dislike for Waneda, and he couldn’t understand the
reason for her dislike.
Josephine still had her field glasses trained on the riders. They were
near enough now so she could make out Ricker in the lead with about a
dozen cowboys.
“I thought at first that they were old man Gaylor’s cowboys instead of
these swine,” the ranch owner burst out wrathfully.
In answer to an inquiring look from Mason he explained, “Gaylor owns a
ranch just across the valley from here. His place is sixty miles from
my ranch and sometimes he and his cowboys pay me a visit. They are
right fine people and I thought at first this bunch of riders were his
men.”
Ricker and his men were now riding up to the corral at top speed. They
made a fine appearance, and Mason had to admit they were superb
horsemen. When Ricker caught sight of Bud with his men drawn up in
back of him, he flung up one hand and his cowboys came to a halt. Two
of his men seemed to have trouble in controlling their plunging
horses, and Bud watched them narrowly to guard against a trick.
Ricker was the first to speak.
“Anderson, I’ve come to repay that visit you and your men made at my
ranch a short time ago”; his tone was sneering and his face worked
with passion as his eyes fell on Waneda and Mason.
“That’s nice,” Bud answered coolly, “is that all you have on your mind
to-day?”
“Not by a damned sight!” Ricker burst out furiously. The sight of
Mason seemed to madden him. “I’ve come for that girl there,” pointing
to Waneda. “Mason, did you have anything to do with getting her to
this ranch, you damned——”
“Better not say it,” Mason cut in sharply, while taking a step
forward. He turned around and looked at Waneda.
“Do you wish to go back with this man, Waneda?” he questioned her.
“No,” the girl gasped in fear.
“That settles it,” Mason said grimly, “Ricker, I guess your quarrel is
with me. Now, I want to tell you something. Any man that will bulldoze
a helpless girl has got a yellow streak, and if you’ll get down off
your horse I’ll prove it. You’ve threatened my father in the past and
I know you’re out to get me. Now, I have no weapon about me and I want
to know if you are man enough to get down off your horse.”
The sudden turn of affairs caused surprise among Ricker’s cowboys,
while Bud and his men sat staring at Mason in amazement. Ricker was
fairly choking with rage as he was put in a bad light before his men,
and he could only sit and glare at Mason.
“I will agree to let you take Waneda back with you if I don’t prove
you have got a yellow streak,” Mason continued scornfully; “you came
over here to pick a quarrel with me and you know it.”
“That is fair enough, Ricker,” Bud spoke up suavely. His voice seemed
to have almost a purr in it. “The boy has called your turn. I will see
that my men behave themselves, if you will promise your men will be
good, but remember I’m watching you all.”
Ricker spoke a few sharp words to his men and they fell back leaving
him face to face with Mason.
“I’m going to take some of the conceit out of you, you young upstart,”
he said with pitying smile as he drew his guns and handed them to Bud.
“You’re going up against a full grown man and I’m going to break you.”
Mason knew he would have a tough job on his hands as Ricker was of the
brute type and outweighed him by forty pounds. Mason fell back to join
his mother and sister as they were calling frantically to him.
They both appealed to him not to fight Ricker, Josephine and the ranch
owner joining in with them.
“I intend to get revenge for Dad’s sake,” he told them simply, and
they knew it was useless to argue with him further.
Bud went over and had a talk with Ricker. Soon he came back and drew
Mason to one side.
“Ricker says he won’t stand for any rules to this fight, lad,” he said
kindly, “the best man to win at any style he likes best.”
“That suits me,” Mason answered with a laugh; “I’ll box with him every
minute.”
Ricker announced that he was ready, and the two combatants began to
circle around, each looking for an opening. Mason held his hands as
though to grapple with his opponent, when Ricker, thinking he saw an
opportunity to get a hold, suddenly darted in and received a swinging
blow to the jaw that dazed him. He fell into a crouch, as the blow had
hurt him, and took a lightning uppercut for his pains. As he backed
away, Mason could see that he was full of fight and a hog for
punishment. The man was a regular giant in stature and the way he
recovered from the effect of the blows amazed Mason. He decided to
change his tactics. Ricker rushed him furiously, his great brawny arm
trying to encircle Mason’s body. Mason easily side-stepped this mad
rush and shot a snappy punch to his opponent’s eye, completely closing
that member. He followed this blow with a series of body punches
before Ricker could clinch him. Mason worked his arms free and swung a
fierce left to Ricker’s face cutting a wide gash over his other eye,
and causing him to back away cursing. Mason followed up his advantage,
swinging short body blows that brought a spasm of pain to Ricker’s
face. The bully was breaking ground now before Mason’s relentless
smashes and tried to clinch at every opportunity.
“I knew you had a streak of yellow in you, Ricker,” Mason said coolly
as he evaded a wild swing. “Why, your efforts are clumsy, stand up
like a man and take a licking.”
Ricker bellowed like a bull at the taunt and rushed at Mason in a wild
attempt to finish his nimble opponent with a single blow. The bully’s
eyes were nearly closed and his breath came in gasps. His men sat
amazed at the easy way Mason was handling him. Some of them nervously
fingered their guns, but Bud was watching every move sharply and they
didn’t dare make any display of force. Mason set himself and met
Ricker’s bull-like rush with a powerful blow to the jaw. The man’s
head snapped back while his heels were lifted clear from the ground.
Mason had scored a clean knockout, scarcely receiving a scratch
himself.
It took some time for Ricker’s men to bring him to, and as he climbed
weakly on his horse he pointed a shaking finger at Mason.
“You haven’t seen the last of me, young fellow,” he swore between
swollen lips; “I’m going to get you for this, and I want to tell you,
too, Anderson, if I catch any of your men on my range, I’m going to
make an example of them.”
“That is an idle threat, Ricker,” Bud retorted calmly; “none of my men
will venture on your range unless there is a good reason, and then you
may be sure I will come with them.”
Ricker frowned darkly at this return to his threat. He gave a command
to his men and soon the band were in motion. Josephine watched them in
the distance through her field glasses and saw they were taking the
fork in the trail toward Trader’s Post.
“Well, I hope this is the last we will see of that crowd,” the ranch
owner said with a sigh of relief. “Mason, you sure did beat up Ricker
some.”
“I don’t know if Josephine has told you the story or not,” he
answered, “but there had been bitter enmity between Ricker and my dad
for years, and he came over here mainly to pick a quarrel with me.”
“Josephine did tell me something of the kind,” the ranch owner
admitted wonderingly, “but I didn’t pay much attention to her at the
moment and it clean slipped my mind.”
That evening, Mason with Bud and the ranch owner’s family were talking
over the events of the day and were wondering how far Ricker would go
with his threat when they heard a commotion down near the corral. Loud
voices reached their ears causing Bud and Mason to spring to their
feet. Both rushed out on the porch and at a glance they saw that a
tragedy had occurred. Two cowboys were assisting one of their comrades
out of his saddle. A third cowboy started on a run for the ranch
house. Bud recognized him as Buck Miller.
“What’s the trouble down there, Miller?” Bud called to him.
“One of the Ricker crowd shot up Tex down at the Post!” came the
startling answer.
Bud swore softly.
“It’s war to the knife from now on between Ricker and me”; he said the
words in the manner of a man registering a vow.