YUMA RIDES BEHIND A MASKED MAN
The Lone Ranger almost fired instinctively at Yuma. His finger tightened
on the trigger, but he caught himself in time. Yuma's last, quick shot
went wide. The cowboy stood entirely clear of the rocks that had
protected him, holding his gun point-blank on the masked man. For a
moment the two stood there tense, each one covering the other, neither
moving, neither firing.
Then Yuma let out a wild cry as he threw his six-gun on the ground. "You
win, hang it all, I can't shoot yuh. Come on an' take me prisoner."
The Lone Ranger closed the space. He holstered his own gun, then bent
and picked up Yuma's weapon.
"Put this where it belongs," he said, extending the weapon butt-end
first, "in your holster. You'll probably be needing it again."
There were tears of futility in Yuma's eyes. "I dunno," he said,
accepting the gun, "what in hell's the matter with me. Why didn't I
shoot yuh? Why'd I let yuh take me?"
"Because you're not a killer," replied the masked man simply.
"The hell I ain't. I'm the man that's--"
"Just a minute, Yuma. You tried to tell me that you were the leader of
the Basin gang. In spite of that, I went in to Red Oak last night. I
found Bryant Cavendish there. I showed him a document that his friends
were trying to make Penelope sign and he admitted that it was just the
way he had dictated it. I want you to look it over."
He took the paper from his pocket, unfolded it, and handed it to Yuma.
Then he stood patiently silent to give the big blond man a chance to
read it. Yuma seemed to find some difficulty in wading through the legal
terms and phrases. He guided his eyes from one word to the next with his
finger, and when he finished he said, "Does this mean that Penny ain't
tuh have no part o' Bryant's property when he kicks in?"
The Lone Ranger said, "Some of the relatives of the old man have already
signed it. Penny among them."
Yuma looked at the signatures. "Then she's done outen her share?"
"According to that, Penelope will have no claim on the land unless
Bryant wills it to her. When she signed that, she lost all her faith in
Bryant Cavendish. Furthermore, I doubt if Bryant will be able to give
her much protection now."
"Why not?"
"He was shot last night."
"Shot?"
The Lone Ranger nodded, then went on to tell Yuma the events in Red Oak,
relating what he had heard of Mort's imprisonment and ultimate escape,
the shot that was fired at Bryant, and the knifing of the man who fired
that shot. "I was not seen," he said, "but they must have had a look at
my horse and they certainly heard me call the horse Silver. I've no
doubt that I'll be accused of both the shooting of Bryant Cavendish and
the knifing of the man who really shot him."
Yuma nodded comprehension and agreement. "The same sort o' killin' that
old Gimlet got," he said thoughtfully. "I reckon the same skunk done
both knifin's."
"Quite likely."
"Now Bryant won't be able tuh guard Miss Penny no more, bein' that he's
dead."
"I didn't say that he was dead."
"Then he ain't dead?"
"No."
"How close to it is he?"
"There's a good chance for him to recover. I have him hidden in a cave
in the Gap."
Yuma reflected on the things that he'd been told. He muttered half aloud
and then quite suddenly went berserk. He snatched off his hat, whirled
it about his head several times, then threw it on the ground. He jumped
on it with both feet while he shouted at the top of his voice. His face
was livid with blind rage and fury. He swore with the sincerity of a hen
with fresh-hatched chicks and the vocabulary of a mule skinner. He
called himself an addleheaded jackass and a crackbrained fool in Mexican
as well as English. He berated his bungling, fumbling, thoughtless
notions and cursed himself for trying to help Penny by the "loco" means
he'd used. He ranted, raved, and raged because he'd taken blame that
properly belonged to a double-dyed, limp-brained, stone-faced, soulless
old son of a three-tongued rattler, meaning Bryant Cavendish. He
declared with rare vehemence that Bryant deserved boiling in hot coal
oil, then skinning alive.
Before he ran out of things to say, his breath gave out and he was
forced to stop and gasp. His face was red, his eyes were bloodshot from
emotion. He grabbed the front of the Lone Ranger's shirt in one huge
hand.
"Listen," he said breathlessly, "listen tuh me. I lied when I said I was
the leader o' them murderin' skunks an' cattle rustlers. It's Bryant
that's the leader. I only thought tuh--"
"I know, Yuma," the Lone Ranger interrupted. "You didn't want Bryant to
be taken away from Penelope because he alone could safeguard her."
Yuma still clutched the masked man's shirt. It happened that his hand
had closed over the breast pocket, and in that pocket rested the Texas
Ranger badge. "I came for you," the Lone Ranger went on, "because it is
you that Penelope needs."
"She needs me?" repeated Yuma eagerly. And then in a voice filled with
woe, "Aw-w, that ain't so. I know the way she acted tuh me. If I go
around where she is, she'll box my ears down."
"I think she's changed her mind about a lot of things since she saw the
document her uncle wanted signed. You come along with me, Yuma--you're
needed badly."
"Wish't they was somethin' I could do tuh put them crooks all where they
belong," said Yuma wistfully. "Of course I c'n jest shoot Bryant when I
git tuh him, an' finish what's already started."
"No, you're not going to shoot Bryant Cavendish; you're a witness
against him."
"Huh?"
"He tried to kill you. You'll go to law and charge him with attempted
murder."
"Me? Go tuh law?" asked Yuma with an amazed look.
The masked man nodded.
"Yuh--yuh mean," said the cowboy, still unable to fully comprehend, "I'm
tuh go an' report that he shot at me, an' ask that he be judged fer it?"
"Right."
"But damn it all, I can't do _that_. Who ever heard o' bein' shot at an'
then reportin' it tuh law instead o' shootin' back an' settlin' the
matter on the spot?"
The Lone Ranger explained that there had to be some charge filed against
Bryant Cavendish to put him in jail. Once there, he could be questioned
endlessly until his part in the cattle stealing and the murders was
brought out. Merely killing the man would do nothing to solve the
killing of the Texas Rangers, of Gimlet, or the man who fired at him the
night before. Yuma finally agreed to follow the Lone Ranger's advice, to
do whatever he was told; but went on record that he was sure "goin' tuh
feel like a damn fool sissy" when he went "tuh the law tuh beef about
bein' shot at."
The two boarded the masked man's powerful horse. Before they left the
rocks Yuma said, "One thing more, stranger. Jest who the devil are you?"
"If I wanted that known, Yuma, I wouldn't be masked."
Yuma spoke slowly. "When I took ahold of yer shirt, I felt somethin' in
yer pocket. It was shaped mighty like a Ranger's badge. I been wonderin'
if maybe you ain't a Texas Ranger, an' if so, why the mask?"
"Perhaps I used to belong to the Texas Rangers, Yuma."
"Well--" Yuma paused. "Look here, I can't go on callin' yuh 'stranger';
jest what should I call yuh?"
"My closest friend," the masked man said, "calls me 'The Lone Ranger.'"
He heeled Silver, and the stallion lunged forward. Yuma had to cling to
keep from spilling. "Hi-Yo Silver, Away-y-y-y," the Lone Ranger shouted.
Such speed in a horse was new to Yuma. He gasped at the power in the
long, driving legs of white.
"G-g-gosh," he said against the wind, "this is shore 'nuff a ridin'
hoss! I sort o' like that name 'Lone Ranger,' too!"