On the Cowboy's Trail: Western Boxed-Set. Coolidge Dane

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СКАЧАТЬ they'd be worth about fifteen hundred dollars."

      "Well, I don't want 'em," snapped Crit. "I got troubles enough, already, without hidin' out from Boone Morgan."

      "I'll sell you that brand cheap," supplicated Pecos, but the cowman only showed his teeth in derision.

      "Wouldn't take 'em as a gift," he said, shortly.

      "Well, go to hell, then!" snarled the rustler, and jerking his horse around he started toward Verde Crossing.

      "Hey, where you goin'?" called Crittenden, but Pecos did not reply. "You'll git into trouble," he persisted, following anxiously after him. "Say, do you want to break into jail?"

      Pecos halted on the rim of the mesa, turned deliberately about and faced him.

      "No," he said, "do you?"

      "Why, what d' you mean?" demanded the cowman, leaving off his blustering and coming nearer.

      "Well, if they throw me in I'll tell all I know," replied Pecos. "That's all. They may soak me for the Monkey-wrenches, but I'll sure git you on them Wine-glasses, so you better not try any funny business. What I'm lookin' for now is travellin' expenses—I'm not so stuck on this country that I couldn't be induced to leave it!"

      "No-o," sneered the cowman, "I don't reckon you are. They ain't a man between Tonto and the Gila that don't know you for a rustler now. More 'n that, you've defied the officers of the law. No, Mr. Dalhart," he said, a cold glint coming into his eye, "I won't give you a dam' cent for your burnt-over cattle and if you take my advice you'll hit the high places for New Mexico."

      "Well, I won't take it, then," replied Pecos, sullenly. "I'm goin' down to the Crossing to see Angy and—hey! there's the old boy now, flaggin' me from the store. Well, good-bye, old Cock Eye, don't worry about me none, I know my way around!" He favored his former employer with a flaunting gesture of farewell, leaned over to catch the forward jump of his horse, and went scampering down the slope and across the level, yipping playfully at every bound.

      "Well, the blank-blanked fool!" exclaimed Crittenden, slapping his leg viciously with his quirt at this sudden wrecking of his hopes. "Well, dam' 'im, for a proper eejit!" He ground his teeth in vexation. "W'y, the crazy dum-head!" he groaned, as the cloud of dust receded. "Boone Morgan is shore to come back to the Crossing to-night and catch 'im in the store! Him and that booze-fightin' Angy—I got to git rid of him—but what in the world am I goin' to do?"

      From his station on the edge of the mesa he could see the dust to the east where his cowboys were bringing the day's beef-cut down to the river and then, far up toward the northern pass, a couple of horsemen jogging down the Tonto trail. Boone Morgan rode a bay horse, and one of these was solid color, but the other rode an animal that showed a patch of white—looked kind of familiar, too. He watched them until they showed up clear against a clay-bank and then, making sure that the man on the bay was Morgan, he spurred across the flat to the store. Whatever happened, he must be sure to get Pecos out of town, for Upton had been talking Wine-glass to Morgan, and they might summon him for a witness.

      There was a sound of clanking glasses inside the door as Crittenden rode up, and the voice of Angevine Thorne, flamboyantly proclaiming a toast.

      "Then here's to the revolution," he ended up, "and a pleasant journey to you, Cumrad, wherever you go!"

      They drank, and Crit, sitting outside on his horse, slapped his thigh and laughed silently. "A pleasant journey," eh? Well, let it go at that and he would put up the whiskey.

      "You'll be sure and write me often," continued Angy, caressingly, "and I'll send your Voice of Reason to you, so you can keep up with the times."

      "All right, Pardner," answered Pecos, "but say, give Marcelina my best and tell her I'll be back in the spring. Tell 'er something real nice for me, Angy, will you? Aw, to hell with the cows; it'll be her I come back for! Gittin' a little too warm for me right now, but I'll be here when she comes home in the spring. Well, let's take another drink to the sweetest little girl that ever lived and then I'll be on my way!" The glasses clicked again and as Angy began another peroration Old Crit pulled his horse around with an oath and started up the road. So that was why he had been turned down by Marcelina—Pecos was making love to her while he was gone! And he'd be back in the springtime, eh? Well, not if there was room in the county jail and Boone Morgan would take him down! Hot with his new-made scheme for revenge he spurred his horse to a gallop and was just swinging around the first turn in the trail when he fetched up face to face with Morgan and John Upton!

      The world is full of hatred in a thousand forms but there is none more bitter than that between two men who have seen a former friendship turn to gall and wormwood. So bitter was the enmity between Upton and Old Crit that it needed but the time and occasion to break out into a war. Short, freckle-faced, and red-headed, with a week's growth of stubby beard and a clear green eye, John Upton was not a man that one would pick for an enemy, and the single swift move that he made toward his pistol expressed his general sentiments plainer than any words. As for Crittenden, his emotions were too badly mixed to lead to action, but the one-eyed glare which he conferred upon his cow-stealing rival convinced Boone Morgan at a glance that Old Crit was dangerous.

      "I'd like to have a word with you, Mr. Crittenden," he said, taking command on the instant, "and since Mr. Upton is interested in this matter I have asked him to come along down. We won't discuss the business I have in hand until we get to town, but now that I've got you two gentlemen together I'd like to ask you to be a little more careful about your branding. My deputies reported to me that on the last round-up calves were found bearing a different iron from their mothers and that mavericks were branded on sight, anywhere on the open range. The law provides, as you know, that no cow-brute can be branded anywhere except in a corral or at a round-up and no man has the right to brand any maverick, orejano, leppy, or sleeper except in the presence and with the consent of witnesses. There have been certain irregularities up here in the past, as is to be expected in a new country, but I want to tell you right now that in the future I'm going to hold you cowmen to the law. I was elected and sworn in to uphold the peace and dignity of Geronimo County, so if you have any little feuds or differences to work off, I'll thank you to do it outside my jurisdiction."

      He paused, and as they rode down the broad trail that merged into Verde's main street the rival cattle kings exchanged malignant glances behind his broad and soldierly back. But the sheriff's eyes were to the fore and at sight of Pecos Dalhart's horse tied to the ground in front of the store he chuckled to himself.

      "Well, well," he said, reaching down into his inside vest pocket, "I'm just in time to deliver these papers—or am I mistaken in thinking that that hoss yonder belongs to Mr. Dalhart?" He glanced across at Crittenden, who shrugged his shoulders and scowled. "Quite correct, eh? Well, then, if you gentlemen will excuse me for a moment I'll go in and see Mr. Dalhart."

      He swung down from his horse with military precision and strode toward the door, carrying a bulky official envelope in his left hand and a cigar stump in his right, but just as he crossed the threshold Pecos Dalhart, startled by his voice, dodged out the back way and ran around the store. It was a break for liberty with him and he took no thought of the cost. Three seconds after the sheriff entered the doorway he came tearing around the corner, heading for his horse. At sight of Upton and Old Crit he paused and reached for his gun—for one tense moment they glared at each other—then, flinging himself into the saddle and hugging his horse's neck, Pecos went spurring away down the trail, reckless of everything but the one main chance of escape.

      "Hey! Wait a minute!" roared Boone Morgan, dashing out the doorway and waving his envelope. "Come back heah, you pore dam' fool! Well, don't that beat the devil?" he inquired, СКАЧАТЬ