“No, it ain’t worth tellin’.”
“Like ---- it ain’t!” snorted Jim, and proceeded to tell the whole story
in detail, while old Cross L masticated thoughtfully and squinted at
him.
“Shot the gun out of his hand, eh? Knocked him upside down and then
busted his gun-hand.”
“Well, my gosh, he had to do it!” yowled Jim.
“Didn’t have t’ shoot him in the hand, did he?”
“Well, he had to stop him.”
“Was he runnin’ on his hands?”
“Aw, you make me sick!”
“Yeah, and you fellers make me sick,” retorted Cross L. “Shoot ’em in
the hands! ----’s delight! What’s a man got a body for, if it ain’t t’
shoot at? Yuh make me sick, takin’ a chance on shootin’ at his hands!”
Cross L spat viciously and glared at Jim Horn.
“How long do yuh reckon that tin can’ll stay on that bronc’s tail, Jim?”
“Quite some period,” declared Jim. “It was put on with twisted
balin’-wire.”
“That’s,” Cross L squinted down the road, “that’s what I call bein’
thorough. But if yuh ever try it on that black race horse----”
He glared wickedly for a moment and then a smile wrinkled his face.
“Be careful. I’ll betcha that bronc could kick a fly out of a gallon can
of axle grease and never spot his hoof.”
Cross L grunted softly to himself, tightened up his belt and went back
toward the house. The three cowpunchers looked at each other and grinned
widely.
“My ----, but old Cross L is plumb human!” exclaimed Jim Horn. “He’s
reg’lar home folks.”
Which was not a compliment, but a statement of fact.
* * * * *
Three days passed without anything happening, except the usual routine
of the cattle-ranch. None of the Three Dot outfit came to the Cross L.
Peace and the other two punchers were busy moving a bunch of Herefords
from the Bar X Bar and throwing them back into the ranges nearer the
pass, but they saw nothing of Campion nor his men.
Peace avoided the ranch-house as much as possible. He had been in the
habit of spending his evenings in the living-room with Jess and her
father, but now he played seven-up for mythical stakes with Jim and
Bert, or listened to Jim play an everlasting Spanish fandango on his
guitar.
He had not changed in any way, except this. He did not sigh over his
misfortunes. On the contrary, his smile seemed wider and he plunged
into the ranch work with a will. Jess said nothing to her father, but
she knew he missed Peace Parker at the interval between supper and
bedtime.
But Cross L would not admit it except on the second night, when Peace
did not join him, he flung aside his newspaper at eight o’clock and got
to his feet.
“---- any man that vas-leens his hair!” he exploded and clumped off to
bed, talking in an undertone to himself.
On Thursday Gus Sinks rode in at the Cross L and met Peace at the barn.
Gus was a thin, wiry, wry-necked sort of an individual with the face of
a ferret. There was nothing good about Sinks. He was a gun-man,
ex-horse-thief and several more things. But, for the first time in his
life, he was shooting square with one man--Peace Parker.
“Hello, Gus,” greeted Peace, shaking hands with him. “I been wonderin’
when you’d come in. How’s everythin’?”
“Aw right. I’d ’a’ been in before this, but I couldn’t find a honest
man to leave with the sheep. I got a Basque herder, and he _sabes_
enough United States to know that I’ll massacree him if any of them
----ed animated underwears are missin’ when I get back.”
Peace laughed and shook his head.
“I dunno how yuh stand it out there, Gus. How’s the feed?”
“Feed’s fine. I dunno how I stand it either, Peace. The other day I got
to thinkin’ about it. I says to myself:
“‘Sinks, yo’re a ---- fool. Why don’t yuh sell these lousy woollies and
pull yore freight with the money. Nobody would be the wiser.’
“I could do it, too, Peace. There’s buyers out there that don’t care who
owns the sheep. But--” Gus hooked one leg around his saddle-horn and
drew out his tobacco and papers--“but I jist shut my eyes and remembered
back to that night in Tarp City, when they had the rope all ready for my
neck, and you stepped in and claimed that my life belonged to you. I’ll
betcha--” Gus shut his eyes tight for a moment--“I’ll betcha I don’t
forget that, Peace.”
“Well,” Peace smiled softly, “mebbe they wouldn’t ’a’ hung yuh, Gus.”
“The ---- they wouldn’t! I had it comin’ to me, didn’t I? Don’tcha try
to fool yoreself, Peace; I know Tarp City.”
“How are yuh fixed for money, Gus?”
“That’s why I came in, Peace. I don’t need no salary, but the grub’s
runnin’ low.”
“You’ve got to have some salary, too, Gus.”
“Aw, I’ll get along. You forgit the salary until yuh sell them sheep.
All I need is grub money.”
“Well, go right down to Pasiooks,” declared Peace. “I’ve got money in
the bank down there.”
“Pasiooks, eh? I never seen that town. Have they got a bank down there?”
“Y’betcha. Yuh didn’t think that the Chinookers packed their money to
Tarp City, didja? Our bank is the richest little old bank in the state,
if anybody asks yuh.”
“Yeah? Oh, I’ll betcha that’s right, too. These cattlemen sure do make
money over here.”
Peace got his horse and they headed for Pasiooks which was five miles
away. It could hardly be called a town. The one street was hardly a
block long. There was the Pasiooks bank, general store, post-office
and blacksmith shop on one side of the street, and on the other was a
little restaurant, two saloons and a feed store.
On the east side of the settlement was the little frame schoolhouse and
at the south end of the town was the church. The schoolhouse and the
church had been painted within two years, but the rest of the buildings
were unpainted, or had been painted but time had worn off the color.
There were several horses tied to the saloon hitchracks as Peace and Gus
Sinks rode into the town, and as they dismounted in front of the bank,
Frank Campion and Tiny Bender came out of a saloon and went out to their
horses.
Sinks turned and watched them mount their horses. Frank had a little
trouble with his black horse, which carried him over near the bank. He
looked at Sinks and his brows drew together in a quick frown. Quickly
he jerked the horse around and galloped off up the road after Bender.
Sinks continued to look after him, and his face registered wonderment
as he turned to Peace.
“Who’s the fussy cowpuncher, Peace?”
“Feller by the name of Campion. Bought out the Three Dot outfit over
here.”
“Ye-e-eah?” Sinks seemed slightly amused. “Cow-man, eh?”
“Well, I dunno about his ability, but he owns the ranch.”
“Well, that’s kinda flossy,” remarked Sinks. “Let’s go and get the
_dinero_.”
As they entered the bank they met Chris Sorensen, the owner of the Bar
X Bar. Chris was a big Norse cow-man with a mustache that looked like a
pair of inverted buffalo horns, and the voice of a bull.
“H’lo, Peace,” he boomed. “I was just goin’ to ride out and see you.
The boys just brought in some more of them white-faced cows and I was
wonderin’ if Cross L wanted any more of them. Look fine.”
“All right,” grinned Peace. “I’ll ride back with yuh as soon as I get
through with a little business.”
Sorensen waited until Peace had drawn some money and paid it over to
Sinks who seemed interested in the interior of the bank. Few strangers
ever came to Pasiooks and Mark Clayton, the cashier, made a memory
photograph of Gus Sinks.
They went outside and Gus mounted his horse.
“I’ll see yuh ag’in in a couple of weeks, Peace. If yuh want to sell
out there’s plenty of buyers goin’ through the Sun Prairie, but they
don’t offer much. If we get one more rain pretty soon we’ll be all
fixed and can thumb our nose at ’em. Whatcha think?”
“Well, I dunno,” confessed Peace. “I don’t want to give ’em away, Gus.
Suppose we wait and take a chance, eh? If you don’t mind stickin’ out
there.”
Gus spat dryly.
“Aw, I’ll stick. S’-long, Peace, and thanks for the _dinero_.”
Peace waved at him and went to join Sorensen at the hitch-rack. He had
had his doubts about Gus Sinks, and would not have been surprised to
know that Sinks had sold out the sheep and skipped the country, but
since Sinks’ confession of guilty thoughts he felt that his sheep were
well protected.
Somehow he had the feeling that Gus Sinks and Frank Campion knew each
other. He had seen the expression of Campion’s face when he saw Sinks,
and Sinks had shown too much interest for one stranger in another. But
it was none of his business, he decided. It was a small world, and
there was no reason why they shouldn’t know each other.
He walked over to Sorensen, where they mounted and rode out the opposite
end of town toward the Bar X Bar.
* * * * *
Figuratively speaking, Peace Parker exploded a bombshell under Cross L
Marshall the following day. Jim and Bert had ridden toward the upper end
of the valley and Peace and Cross L were sitting on the porch, looking
over some figures that Peace had got on Bar X Bar yearlings.
Cross L had been arguing over the prices and swearing at Sorensen for
being a pirate when he happened to notice that Peace was paying no
attention. The big cowboy was staring off across the hills, his mind
wandering far from the business at hand.
“When yuh come back we’ll talk some more,” said Cross L humorously.
“When I come back,” repeated Peace slowly. “Yeah, that’s it, Cross L.”
“What’s the matter with yuh, Peace?”
“Nothin’; I was just thinkin’.”
“Yeah? But yuh wasn’t thinkin’ about white-faced cows.”
“No-o-o--not about cows.”
Peace turned and put his hand on Marshall’s shoulder, a whimsical smile
on his homely face.
“I’m goin’ away, Cross L--goin’ to take a trip.”
Marshall eyed him closely, while he drew out his plug of tobacco and bit
off a quarter-section.
“Thasso? How long will yuh be gone, Peace?”
Peace smiled and shook his head.
“I dunno. The Injuns used to say, ‘When the wind blows out through
Poncho Pass, who can say when that same wind will return?’”
“----!” exploded Marshall. “Yuh don’t mean that yo’re goin’ for good!”
“For good?”--Peace rubbed his chin thoughtfully--“Mebbe. The only trip
I ever had was to the penitentiary and I’d kinda like to see somethin’
beyond the hills.”
“Uh-huh,” Cross L squinted narrowly into space. “To see somethin’ beyond
the hills, Peace. Yuh know, I was thataway once. I wanted t’ see the
other side of the hill. But I’m old now, and I don’t care what’s over
there. Right now and right here is all that interests me.”
“You ain’t old, Cross L.”
“Mebbe not, Peace. I’m sixty. And when yo’re sixty yuh don’t climb hills
just to look over the other side.”
For several minutes they sat silent, each busy with his own thoughts.
Then:
“I always wished I had a son,” said Cross L slowly. “Our first baby was
a girl and she died when she was a little thing. Then Jess came along.
Her mother didn’t live long after that, Peace.
“I had t’raise Jess m’self, and I reckon I made a ---- of a mess of it.
She ain’t got the sense that the Lord gave geese in Ireland. If she was
a boy I could cuss him out and hammer some sense into him--but she ain’t
no boy.”
“Jess,” said Peace softly, “Jess is a wonderful girl.”
“M’yah!” Thoughtfully. “Didja tell her yuh was goin’ away, Peace?”
“No-o-o. Yuh see I just made up my mind.”
“Uh-huh. When yuh goin’, Peace?”
“Tomorrow, I reckon. I’ll go to Sun Prairie and sell out them sheep
and then I reckon I’ll go down into Arizona. I ain’t made up my mind
just where I’ll go.”
“Uh-huh,” Cross L got slowly to his feet and sighed deeply. “I--I hope
yuh have luck, Peace Parker. We’ll be kinda thinkin’ about yuh and
wonderin’--I s’pose.”
“I’ll write to yuh, Cross L.”
“Yeah, I s’pose so.”
Cross L reached for his plug of tobacco, but his hand stopped short of
his pocket.
A man was riding swiftly in through the ranch gate and coming toward
them, while several other men, who had been with him, kept on up the
main road, heading toward the upper end of the valley.
The rider jerked to a stop near the porch and dropped to the ground. It
was Perry Hazelton, the blacksmith from Pasiooks. He dropped his reins
and trotted up the steps.
“The Pasiooks bank has been robbed!” he panted, as he pointed up the
road, where a cloud of dust still hung.
“Some of the boys have headed for the Pass, but he’s likely got away by
this time.”
“Pasiooks bank!” exclaimed Cross L. “Who done it?”
“Whew! I’m all out of wind!” puffed Hazelton, “I reckon I worked harder
than the horse did. We don’t know who done the job. It was about an hour
ago, I think.
“There wasn’t nobody in the bank, except Clayton, when I went in and
found him. He’d been hit over the head with somethin’, and was layin’
half-in and half-out of the vault. There was loose money scattered all
over the floor.
“I yelled for help and we got Clayton on to a cot. He kinda roused up
long enough to tell us that he’d been robbed by one man. We turned him
over to Doctor Glover and then went huntin’ for the robber. If he ain’t
made his getaway straight for the Pass he’s still here in the valley.”
“How much money did he get?” asked Cross L.
“We dunno. From the looks of things he’s got a lot.”
“I’ve expected this,” said Cross L quickly. “Yuh see, this bank belongs
to us cowmen. We’re a queer lot, I guess. We didn’t trust the banks at
Tarp City; so we started one of our own.
“We didn’t do a regular bankin’ business--much. It was more of a place
to store money. And like a lot of fools we didn’t think that anybody
would bother it.”
“Must ’a’ been a lot of money in there,” observed Hazelton.
“A lot? I dunno how much, but about all the money there is in Chinook
Valley, except what’s wearin’ a hide and runnin’ around on four legs.”
“It probably won’t take Clayton long to find out how much is gone,”
stated Peace. “Let’s go down there.”
“One of the boys will ride to Tarp City and tell the sheriff,” said
Hazelton as they went after the horses. “There was Dud Le Page, Baldy
Hyatt, Jud Smith and Campion.”
“Where did you find Campion?” asked Cross L.
“At the Three Dot. There wasn’t no use of everybody goin’ to the Pass;
so he sent his three punchers to town to help search the South end.”
Pasiooks was a busy little place when they rode in. Bad news travels
swiftly, and the robbery of the bank was mighty bad news to the Valley
of the Chinook. Several groups of cowboys had already left town,
searching for a sight of the robber.
Clayton, his head swathed in bandages, was in the bank, trying to
check up the extent of the loss while several cattlemen stood around
and annoyed him with questions.
Peace and Cross L Marshall came in and joined the group. Clayton looked
up at them. His face was very white and his eyes showed that he was
suffering from a raging headache.
“H’lo, Clayton,” said Cross L. “How are yuh feelin’?”
“Not very good,” faltered Clayton. “My head is all wrong for figures
right now.”
He sat down in a chair and held his head in his hands.
“Any idea how much money he got?” asked one of the men.
“About all there was in the vault,” groaned Clayton. “I’d hate to even
make a guess. Of course it will all check up.”
“About how much?” queried Marshall anxiously.
“Well,” Clayton lifted his head, “there was thirty thousand in currency
in one box. I don’t know how much gold there was, but it was about ten
thousand dollars.”
The cattlemen looked at each other seriously. It meant that they were
about cleaned out. It was their own institution--their loss.
“It was a foolish idea,” said Clayton heavily. “We should have invested
this money. But--well, there’s no wisdom in hoarding money, gentlemen.”
“That’s a cinch--now,” said one of the men bitterly.
“Any idea who done it?” queried Peace.
Clayton squinted painfully at Peace and nodded slowly.
“Yes, I know who did it, Parker.”
“Yuh do?” exploded Cross L. “Who was it, Clayton?”
Clayton rubbed his aching head.
“I don’t know his name, Marshall. It was the man that came here
yesterday with Peace Parker.”
Peace stared at Clayton and around at the cattlemen, who were watching
him, wondering what it meant. Peace went to Clayton and put a hand on
his shoulder.
“Clayton, are yuh sure of that?”
“Just as sure as the world, Parker. I noticed that he was looking the
place over yesterday.”
“But he was masked, wasn’t he?” queried Cross L.
Clayton nodded.
“Yes, he was masked, but that was no disguise. He was wearing an old
yellow velvet vest, a gray sombrero and a wide cartridge-belt which
was studded with brass rivets. I even recognized his boots with the
stitched tops.”
Peace turned away and stared across the room. He knew that it had been
Gus Sinks. Gus was square with him, but he was still a thief. Peace
turned and looked at Cross L.
“It was Gus Sinks. I brought him here yesterday to give him some money,
Cross L. He rode North when I went to the Bar X Bar with Sorensen.”
“Does that description cover him, Peace?” asked one of the men.
Peace nodded.
“Yes, that covers him.” Then to Clayton--“Tell us how he done it,
Clayton.”
Clayton squinted painfully and pointed toward the open door of the
vault.
“I had the vault open and was just coming out with some papers, when I
happened to look up. I didn’t hear this man come in but there he stood,
just inside the railing with his gun pointed at me.
“I couldn’t hardly realize what it was all about. Then he motioned for
me to turn around and go into the vault. I had to do it, gentlemen. He
stepped in behind me and held a gun against my back while I unlocked
the strong-boxes.
“Yes, he ordered me to do it. Then he must have hit me over the head
with his gun.”
Clayton rubbed his hand tenderly over his bandages.
“I don’t know how long I was unconscious, but when I woke up he was
gone.
“I was so weak I couldn’t stand up; so I crawled half out of the vault,
when Hazelton discovered me. I think the robber intended to lock me in
the vault, because the bolts were thrown. In his haste to escape, he
accidentally threw the bolts and was unable to shut the door.”
Peace went over to the vault door. The bolts were still blocking it. He
examined it closely.
One of the cattlemen laughed shortly. “Lookin’ for finger-prints,
Peace?”
Peace smiled grimly and shook his head.
“Wouldn’t do us any good, Pierce.”
“You wouldn’t find any,” said Clayton. “He wore gloves.”
“Well,” observed Cross L hopefully, “if he didn’t get to the Pass ahead
of the boys, he’s bottled up in the valley.”
“Plenty of places to hide,” declared Peace. “He can take his time and
get away. What we’ve got to do is to curry this old valley until a
chipmunk couldn’t get away.”
As they started out of the door, Hazelton met them at the door, and with
him was a ten-year-old boy.
“Say, this kid seen him!” blurted Hazelton. “He seen that robber after
he got the money.”
“Where was he?” asked Cross L.
“Well, I seen a man, but I dunno whether he was the one,” said the boy.
“This’n had his horse tied just the other side of the schoolhouse. I
seen him get on his horse and he had a big bundle in his arms.”
“What did he look like?” asked Peace.
“I don’t just remember,” confessed the boy, “but I know he had on a gray
hat and a fancy belt. I seen the sun sparkle on that belt. And he had a
sorrel horse that singlefooted.”
Peace nodded to the men.
“That’s the horse.”
“Was the man wearin’ a mask, Buddy?” queried Cross L.
“No. I wasn’t close enough to see his face, but he didn’t have no mask
on that I could see.”
“He’d take it off right away,” said one of the men. “He likely slipped
it on when he went in and slipped it off as soon as he got outside.”
“Didja notice which way he went, Buddy?” asked Peace.
“He went up the valley, but he didn’t seem to go in a hurry. Just kinda
singlefooted along.”
“He’s a smart son-of-a-gun,” admitted Cross L. “Didn’t do anythin’ to
attract attention. Likely went ---- for-leather as soon as he got out of
sight. Prob’ly twisted off the road and circled into the hills. Mebbe
the boys’ll beat him to the Pass. If they don’t--we’re about half-out of
money around here.”
“Half-out, ----!” snorted Billy Pierce, who owned the Crescent outfit.
“If they don’t nail him, I won’t have money enough to pay my two
punchers a month’s salary. I might have to sell a cow or two to make a
payday.”
“You’d have a ---- of a time sellin’ one to me,” said Cross L sadly. “I
might be able to trade, but I couldn’t buy the hole in a doughnut.”
“I reckon that about covers us all,” said another.
“It’s a hard old world, and few of us ever get out of it alive,”
observed Peace seriously. “I feel that I’m partly to blame. I brought
Gus Sinks here with me. Why, he didn’t even know we had a bank here.”
The cattleman smiled grimly. Peace remembered that he had told Gus Sinks
that the Pasiooks bank was the richest little bank in the state and that
Sinks had seemed interested in that fact.
He and Cross L stood around awhile and listened to arguments, pro and
con, which arrived at nothing. Then they got their horses and headed
for the Cross L ranch. There was nothing they could do just now.
“You’ll have to hire somebody to take your sheep,” observed Cross L as
they rode home, “or will yuh go out and sell ’em, like yuh intended to
do?”
“I dunno, Cross L,” Peace shook his head. “It kinda hurts me to think
that Gus Sinks done this job to us folks. He’s an ignorant son-of-a-gun
and he don’t know any better than to do wrong most of the time, but I
trusted him--kinda.”
“In God we trust,” quoted Cross L. “That’s the only safe thing to do.”
Marshall went straight to Jess with the news of the robbery, but Peace
did not go up to the house with him.
“We had fifteen thousand dollars in that bank, Jess,” he added, after he
had explained the robbery. “It kinda crimps us.”
“But they will catch the robber, won’t they?” she asked.
“I’m hopin’ fifteen thousand dollars worth, Jess. He had a fair start,
but he might ’a’ circled far enough to let the boys beat him to the
Pass.”
“Who went up there?”
“Le Page, Hyatt, Jud Smith and Frank Campion.”
Jess nodded thoughtfully.
“I reckon I forgot to tell yuh that Peace is leavin’ us, Jess,” said
Marshall slowly.