Everybody's/Uneasy Gold
Uneasy Gold
A
Western Story of
the Mining Camps
When the Bad Men
Were in Power
CHAPTER I
Plummer's Legacy
JIM REESE, mountain floater, and dangerously close to the boundary of respectability, left his horse on the outskirts of Rocker of a June morning and entered the town rather surreptitiously. That is, he moved along the backs of houses, stores, and saloons of the main street like one bent on theft. Nor did he relish the situation as he halted in the shelter of an abandoned log hut and reconnoitered the rear of the Capital Saloon, Captain Cram's whisky and gambling place. Reese was convinced that if ever a man had tossed away a fortune by pure idiocy he was that individual. He had had the fortune at the ends of his fingers and had euchred himself out of possession.
Staring at the windows in the back room for a minute he decided it held no occupants. Ducking his head low he ran rapidly to the rear door. The back room was empty, with the table and floor still littered with cards from the night's play. So far so good, Reese told himself as he gained the door opening into the saloon, and with one hand on his gun, pulled it back a trifle and snatched a glimpse of the long bar. Fortune was favoring him at least to the extent of placing the proprietor and Doctor Kidd at the lower end of the bar, a dozen feet from him. The two were shaking dice for gold pieces. The bottle between them testified to morning drinks. At the upper end of the bar two barkeepers were serving a few customers.
Slouching his hat well forward and hooking a thumb in his belt Reese quickly opened the door and with three long strides was behind the two men just as Cram was lifting the box to roll the dice. Premonition of a hostile presence caused the captain to stay the cast while his shaggy head slowly turned. The box fell on the bar, a hand dropped to a gun, but Reese interposed Doctor Kidd's person as a shield, drew his gun, and softly warned:
“Don't, please. Just rest both poor, tired hands on the bar and listen to the medicine talk I've bothered to fetch you and Doctor Kidd.”
Kidd, swarthy as a breed, but slim of figure and with a love for garish elegance, threw aces against the dice Cram had filled, raked in the pot, and murmured, “He brings you white wampum, Cap'n. Soft and easy.”
Cram drew a deep breath, clasped his big, hairy hands on the bar, and fiercely demanded, “What you back here for? You know you're just pizen to me.”
“I'm worse than that, Cap'n, if you act up unfriendly. I'm Old Man Death. This is the second and last time I've come here on business. We don't like each other, Cram, but business is business.”
The captain's ire lessened a trifle because of curiosity.
“It's pestiferous the way you make calls on people, Reese,” he growled. “I don't cotton to your way of captivatin' an honest bar with a gun in your paw. A few days ago you come in the front door and shoved the muzzle of a gun ag'in my innards. It ain't neighborly an' I can't git to like it.”
“I had to do it, Cap'n, to stop your man Bloover from drilling me. I must have this one talk with you. I want safe passage back to the street if my talk doesn't interest you.”
“I won't lift a finger ag'in you. What's your business?” grunted Cram.
Reese belted his and and explained, “Right after getting clear of you and Kidd the other day I went to Silver Bow City to carry my talk to Logan. I want to hitch up with your outfit, or with Logan. Met Logan in the street and tried to dicker with him. He went for a gun, but I beat him to it”
“You damned fool, you didn't go 'n' rub out that skunk, did you?” ferociously cried Cram.
“Gently, Cap'n, gently. Our young friend has some brains even if be did make a misplay when all he had to do was to throw his cards down, face up,” whispered Doctor Kidd.
“Rub out Tiger Logan and kill upwards o' three hundred thousand dollars?” jeered Reese. “Do I look to be as big a fool as that?”
Cram breathed in deep relief. “Well, go on,” he prompted. “So long as you didn't heap mortal trouble on Tiger Logan, damn him, I'll listen this time. But you admit you tried to make a deal with Tiger and freeze us boys out. That wasn't neighborly. Not by a long chalk.”
Reese grinned good-naturedly and asked, “Could you expect me to keep on trying to play Santa Claus to an outfit that's always hankering to see the color of my blood? Yet I've come back to make one more try. After this, if you turn down my talk, I'll play a lone hand. Here's the situation: Neither I, nor any of your gang, can afford to kill Logan. But he's in the driver's seat and will be glad to kill all of us. I beat him to the draw, took his gun, tossed it back of a house and made off.”
“Lucky for you that you didn't do him any hurt,” savagely said Cram. “I'll slit the throat of the man who harms that skunk and thief.”
Doctor Kidd chuckled and lazily remarked, “Birds of a feather calling each other names.”
“Don't allow I'm a skunk, or a thief, even in fun, Kidd,” warned Cram.
“I'm the one bird of different feathers,” coldly reminded Reese. “I located the stuff. You and your outfit spied on me and treated me as something very precious. Logan was the one to learn my secret, did it right under your noses. Under my nose, too, he lifted the gold and skipped out. I went to him to offer to split it. I think he was foolish not to hear me. We all know he has the gold, and we're all pull-hauling and breaking our necks in trying to find out where he cached it.”
“We have as much right to it as anyone,” sullenly said Cram.
“If you can get it,” agreed Reese. “I rather look on it as my gold. But it seems to be Logan's just now.”
“There are no owners to the gold Henry Plummer saved from his stealings while acting as sheriff and chief of the road agents,” put in Doctor Kidd. And his dark face flushed as he brooded over the bloodstained hoard of at least a quarter of a million. “I was at his hanging, when he tried to save his neck by offering to tell where the stuff was buried a hundred yards from a corner of the corral at Robbers' Roost out on the Virginia City road. Twice he offered to take the boys there and show them the spot. He told them they could cut him in pieces if they didn't find the gold; but they preferred to hang him. That left the gold the property of the man who could find it. You had the inside track and lost out.”
“Like a dunderhead!” angrily denounced Cram, now tugging his black beard with both hands. “To think of almost getting your paws on it, and then losing! I'll never forgive you for letting Tiger Logan steal it away. If you'd had it our work would 'a' been easier”
“Of course, Cap'n,” broke in Kidd. “But that's all gone by. Now we have a new deal. I know we shall be much interested to hear what Reese has to say.”
Cram was more obtuse. He persisted in reminding, “But he had his chance, and then let Logan horn in and pouch it. Why should he have another chance?”
“Because we'd rather have him with us than against when we find it,” quietly explained Doctor Kidd. “But once the hiding place is located we must send Logan over the ridge, or we'll have him against us. And he's bad, Cap'n, just bad.”
Cram digested this, then grunted, and surrendered, “All right, Reese, make your talk.”
REESE glanced about to make sure they had the end of the room to themselves and then began:
“If you folks hadn't horned in, Logan never would have won out. But you kept at my heels so close, and I was watching you so sharp, I didn't see what Logan was up to. Blame yourselves for losing out. But that's that. My offer is this. Let's play in together against Logan. We can afford to split the gold three ways if we fail to locate the cache. A third to him, a third to me, and a third to you, Cram, and your outfit.”
Kidd's thin nose pinched in, and his eyes grew malevolent. Cram spoke for the two of them when he angrily demanded, “Why a third to you when you don't stand in as good as I and my men do?”
“By the right of discovery. If not for me Logan wouldn't have gotten it. If not for your bungling play Logan couldn't have gotten it. Either as I say, or I'll play a lone hand,” Reese answered.
Cram's bearded lips parted in a wolfish snarl. Doctor Kidd was quick to say, “That's fair, Cap'n. If Logan will produce two thirds he can keep the other third.”
Cram glared into Kidd's pale blue eyes for a moment, then understood. He sighed and complained, “Of course a third for men 'n' the Doctor and Cinders and Bloover ain't the pickings I'd counted on. But I'll go in. If Logan don't agree, then the pot will be divided in halves.”
“In halves if we can out-Injun him and get our hands on it,” said Reese. “But if we try to force his hand someone's going to get badly killed. And if Logan's killed his secret dies with him.”
“Perhaps not,” murmured Kidd. “He has a woman living with him.”
“I won't stand for abusing any woman,” said Reese.
The doctor smiled faintly, and countered, “Who's talking about abusing a woman. She might fall in love with me and marry me; and I might learn the secret from her.”
Instantly Cram was suspicious. He coldly warned, “Be careful, Kidd. Be very careful. I'd hate to be in your boots if I knew a mighty big gold secret, and had a sneaking notion of keeping that secret from my old pards.”
“I'm not fool enough to try cold-decking you, Cap'n,” assured Kidd.
“We're off the trail,” Reese impatiently reminded. “We must make Logan understand he's in for a run of hard luck if he tries to get away with all the gold. We must watch his every move so he can't sneak off with the stuff. We must make him understand he'll never be rid of our spies until he shells out. He'd be a fool to share up until forced to.”
“You don't opine it's in his shack out on the Silver City road,” hoarsely whispered Cram.
“Not being a born idiot, I do not,” promptly said Reese. “Nor do I believe it's buried anywhere near the shack— Who knows that a woman's living with him?”
“Bloover see a petticoat going into his shack. Bloover, Cinders and the doctor take turns watching the Tiger,” Cram explained.
Reese frowned, and frankly admitted, “I don't like your way of doing business, Cap'n. What if Bloover, or Cinders, discovered where it's cached? Would they gallop here and kill a horse to fetch you the good news? Or would they forget you and ride over the mountains—I'm leaving out the doctor. I know he's honest.”
Kidd smiled grimly in appreciation of this bit of irony. Cram took alarm and savagely rowed, “If I believed either of them two scuts would try that game on me I'd cut their throats.”
“But you don't believe it, Cap'n,” said Kidd. “Gold makes men mighty suspicious. Bloover and Cinders might be silly enough to feel uneasy if they knew you had learned the secret. We'll all feel better if we keep all the cards on the table, face up. None of us who wouldn't lift the whole pot if he thought he wouldn't get caught. But none of us dares to take that chance.”
“I feel that way, or I'd never come here today,” said Reese. “I might play a lone hand against Logan, and win. Then I'd have you people to fight. Now I'll sneak into Silver Bow, get the drop on Logan, and make him listen to my talk.”
“You won't have to do any sneaking,” Doctor Kidd quickly corrected. “The Democratic convention is on in Silver Bow, and the town's crowded. Small chance of the Tiger spotting you.”
“Who's on watch over there now?” asked Reese.
“Cinders is there today. I'll send word for him keep off while you make your play,” said Cram. Then, suspiciously, “But what'll you do if he laughs at you? Steal his woman?”
“No women in this game. If he refuses my offer then all of you must come and camp down in Silver Bow. Then no man will be tempted to get away with the gold if he happens to find it. We'll watch Logan, nab him, carry him into the hills and hold him prisoner while we prospect around his shack. Probably the stuff is hidden several miles from town. If we fail to find it we'll let him escape and lie low and dog him till he leads us to it. Start the word ahead so Cinders won't block my game and I'll be off.”
“Just remember I'll do the planning for my outfit,” warned Cram. “You talk too much like a big chief. Word starts at once to Cinders.”
When Reese left the saloon it was with a full realization of the peril he was in. He knew Cram and his associates would turn on him once the gold was found. He knew he had effected only a temporary truce. And that was all he had hoped to achieve.
EVER since January 10, 1864, when Plummer was hanged at Bannack, there had been hot speculation as to where the bandit chief had concealed his share of much stolen gold. He had not spent it, nor sent it from the country. When the noose was about to settle around his neck he played his last card: a frantic offer to reveal his hidden hoard if the vigilantes would release him. This much was common knowledge. After his death there had been much surreptitious searching. Reese had located the plunder close to the corral instead of a hundred yards away. The discovery was a blind bit of luck and Reese had not dared to dig it up for fear of the Cram outfit. While quietly securing pack-animals and waiting for a dark night, Tiger Logan, fearless, and a lover of gun play, had stepped in and carried off the treasure.
While Rocker, five miles below Butte, was very active, it remained for Silver Bow City, a vestibule to Butte, to rival the latter town in excitement at the time Reese arrived and stabled his horse, and mingled with the milling crowds. Not only were the placers of the town paying high, but the influx of delegates to the convention were making the Eagle scream. Business men were most prosperous, and were sending for more goods to Viginia City, a hundred miles away, by William Vernon's pony express. By the same medium proprietors of hurdy-gurdies, gambling bells, and whisky stores sent rush orders for more dance-hall girls, more liquor, and additional gambling paraphernalia.
Reese found more than a thousand men thronging the place, seeking profit and pleasure, adventure and political honors. Gold circulated lavishly at eighteen dollars to the ounce. Nor did it seem there could be any end of the precious metal when one heard the hourly reports spreading along the streets. A load of gravel, sold for two hundred dollars, had yielded a hundred thousand. Placers throughout the diggings were paying as high as a thousand dollars a day.
As Reese dropped into a saloon to get his bearings and plan for his interview with Logan, his ears were pounded by repeated boasts and hyperbolical assertions and his gaze was distracted by the endless slamming and dumping of heavy pouches on the bar. Bartenders, weighing out dust for rounds of drinks, were making rare side money from the precious specks that fell on the square of plush under the scales. Reese had witnessed similar scenes, but never had he sensed such intensity of optimism. He could almost believe that any minute the last doors to nature's treasure house would be forced and incalculable gold uncovered. He drank his beer and wondered if he was not wasting time in essaying to recover Plummer's bloody stealings. Seemingly, there was gold everywhere—honest gold, just for the taking.
The man at his elbow bellowed at him, “Diedrich Brothers just washed out a eighteen hundred dollar chunk!”
A man on the other side of him shouted, “Eighteen hundred hell! Bob McMinn just found a six hundred pound quartz rock that's lousy with gold. By tomorrer he'll find the lead from where the float came. That means a mountain of gold!”
“Judas Jerusalem!” howled another. “I reckon all this northwest country's pure gold if you can git down deep enough!”
Reese envied McMinn. Could he have looked ahead two years he would have seen Bob gleefully selling a claim in the McMinnville Bar district for two hundred dollars which held a thousand times the selling price. Reese also was puzzled to understand why men should squabble for political preferment when mud-splashed men were daily winning fortunes from the ground. Again he wondered why he bothered to hunt for a robber's loot with the placers paying so richly.
“If I'd worked as hard to find a paying claim as I have in hunting for—” He broke off abruptly on discovering that he was talking aloud. He finished his beer and made for the street.
As he reached the doorway a man galloped madly by the saloon.
“That's too dangerous even for a drunk to do,” he wrathfully exclaimed.
“Feller's in a hurry from just killin' a man,” lazily explained a camp bummer. “Tiger's gun got caught 'n' he drilled him.”
Grabbing the derelict by the shoulder Reese shook him and fiercely demanded, “Tiger? Tiger who?”
“You don't have to bust my arm, pard. I was saying that Tiger Logan's gun caught for a second as he made for to draw it. Then he got his.”
“How badly is he wounded?” gasped Reese.
“Must be a relation of your'n. Wounded? Tiger's gone over the divide. T'other feller blew hell out of him.”
Reese leaned limply against the side of the saloon. Fate, a dirty trickster, had erased the great secret, had killed the man Reese would have risked his life to shield.
FUNERALS quickly follow deaths in the gold country, and Tiger Logan and his ruthless record were almost forgotten inside of twenty-four hours after the burial. Reese had waited until the grave was filled and then walked his horse through the excited, gesticulating groups, and heard bits of “discovery” hysteria and fag ends of political axioms. But his mind was on the work ahead. Did Logan's woman know? If she held the secret would she trade. He halted at Collins' store and was told by a busy clerk:
“You can't miss the shack. Probably no one there now. Sets back under some willows and there's lots of flowers planted around it.”
He continued his quest for a quarter of a mile and dismounted on coming abreast of the cabin. The flowers proclaimed it to be the right one. There were patches of petunias and marigolds, and angel's breath, and fragrant mignonette, sweet-williams, and pert pansies. He hitched his horse to a drooping willow and advanced toward the log house. His head was bowed and he was contemplating life's vicissitudes. Had he not paused to drink a beer Logan would be alive and he would have performed his errand. Even if the woman knew the secret, and he dared not to expect that much, she might refuse to tell. And he could not wage war on a woman. Cram could, and that would mean open war with Cram.
A rasping sound caused him to jerk up his head. Between the white curtains of an open window had appeared the barrel of a big revolver. He decided it was a .45, and he mechanically raised his hands above his head.
A shrill voice demanded, “Who are you, and what do you want here?”
He swept off his hat and explained, “I came to town to have a business talk with Mr. Logan and learned he had passed away. Just rode down to see where he lived.”
“Sheriff from outside I take it. Well, you can ride back.”
“I'm no officer of the law, ma'am. I met Mr. Logan once and he impressed me as being a strong, forceful sort of a man. I had a business deal to propose. Can't I talk a bit with you? There's no need of keeping me covered. I'm harmless.”
The gun barrel wavered, then was slowly withdrawn. The door opened and Reese was amazed to behold a young woman, dainty and beautiful. The handsome head was covered with a mass of chestnut curls. She was entirely different from the type he had expected to behold; for Tiger Logan was not one to charm the ladies.
While he gaped she quickly came close to him and tilted back her head and demanded, “You wanted to see my father about what?”
“You're—Mr. Logan's daughter?” mumbled Reese. Even as he was asking the needless question he was discovering a resemblance in the steady blue eyes.
“I am Annie Logan, his daughter,” and the shapely head tilted defiantly. “And he was a good pap to me, no matter what the scum say about him.”
“I have nothing ill to say about him,” said Reese. “And scum kept its mouth shut while he was alive. I came to make a business offer.”
“Pap wasn't interested in business.”
Reese studied the sad young face for a moment and wondered how he could develop the nature of his errand. He began by adding, “Did you ever hear of Cap'n Cram?”
The girl's features instantly expressed strong emotion. “Hear of him!” she bitterly cried. “If he stood before me, in place of you, a stranger, I'd shoot him dead for a brutal, cowardly murderer.”
Reese stared in amazement.
“See here, miss,” he feebly began, “Cram isn't as good a man as he could be. But murder? That's a strong word. Who has he murdered?”
She turned and inclined her head toward a mound beyond the end of the cabin and whispered, “Pap.”
“Oh, you're mistaken, Miss Logan,” eagerly insisted Reese. “I left Cram in Rocker yesterday morning. Your father was killed almost as soon as I reached this town. He couldn't have gotten here ahead of Hie. Believe me or not, but I tell you Cram will be powerfully sorry when he hears your father is dead. I can prove absolutely”
“Come along! I never said Cram fired the death shot. I say he killed my pap. He killed him through one of his cutthroats. A man called Cinders.”
Reese did not speak for a few moments. Then he said, “If Cinders is guilty then no one will be quicker to resent it than Cram. Cram isn't any angel, but your father had a secret that was worth more'n a quarter of a million. Cram would never rub out the holder of that secret.”
She nodded slowly and understandingly, and muttered, “Plummer's gold. Well, I always told pap no good would come of it. You can sit down while we talk. You've got to explain things. My pap was masterful, hard-riding, quick-shooting, but he was good to me. Now, how do you get mixed up in this hidden gold business?”
“I'm the man who located Plummer's gold. Your father spied on me. He removed it while I was planning to do so.”
She dropped on the grass and scrutinized him sharply. She did not seem to be greatly surprised by his words. “You found it, and he got it?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“You found it buried and left it buried?”
“Yes.”
“And he took it from the ground where it was cached? And before you'd put your hands on it?”
Reese nodded.
She went on, “Then he didn't steal anything from you.”
“I won't put it that strong to his daughter,” said Reese.
Her eyes flashed, and she warned, “You'd better not put it that way to anyone so I'll hear of it. Now what did you think to say to pap?”
Reese briefly repeated the offer he would have made had he found Logan alive.
The girl nodded and said, “Cinders, the killer, was sent here by Cram. Cram's responsible for his acts. Pap 'n' me knew he was watching us. When it wasn't him it was another man.”
“He'll have a sad time explaining to Cap'n Cram,” said Reese.
“Which won't fetch my pap back to life. Now you listen to me and give my words to Cram and his gang. That gold never belonged to you, or anyone of them. It belonged to no one except the first to lay hands on it. There's a curse on it. It can never be given back to the relations of the poor, dead men, who were murdered because they had it. It brought death to my pap. If you could have it now it would bring death to you.”
Reese plucked at the wild grass as she talked. When she finished he shot in, “You know where it's hidden?”
“Yes. I do,” the girl promptly replied.
He surveyed the tumult of chestnut curls, the blue eyes, the entire daintiness of her small person, and earnestly said, “Miss Logan, never admit as much to any one else in the world, unless you are ready to do what I would have asked your father to do.”
“You mean Cram would kill me?”
“He never would allow anything, or anyone stand between him and the finding of that gold.”
“And you'd help him!” she jeered. “And you'd like to have me trust you, and tell you. Then there would be three thirds, all for you.”
He could feel his face burning. He discovered he was wishing for her good opinion.
“No,” he quietly told her. “I'd make a play to shut Cram out, just as he would try for all of it. But I would give you a third and keep my mouth shut until you had had time to leave the territory, or turn it over to the express company.”
“You talk well,” she bitterly admitted. “But I trust no one who rides with the Cram outfit. If Cram comes to me I'll send him away right sharp. And I think that ends your business' here.'”
She rose and smoothed out her skirts and turned to enter the house.
“Just half a minute,” he begged, “then I'll trouble you no more. Don't tell Cram that you know where it's hidden. I shall tell him your father carried the secret with him.”
“Still making a play for all of it, eh?” she taunted. “Cram will know what I'll tell him when he hears me talk.” At the door she paused to say, “I've got my pap's guns. I can use them. That goes for you as well as for the Cram outfit.”
“I'm more afraid of your tongue than of the guns,” he bitterly retorted.
The door slammed behind her and he hurried to his horse. He rode slowly up the road. Logan's death had a disquieting effect. It was tragic, he believed, that the girl should take her father's place in the grim game. He still insisted the gold was his by right of discovery. Despite his hesitance to say as much to the girl, he considered Logan to have acted the thief, reaping where he had not sown. But fighting Tiger Logan was vastly different from fighting Annie Logan. He wished she had not shared in the secret. He was tremendously thankful that he had not fought it out with Logan and left the girl an orphan. Cram was absolutely without a conscience; as were Kidd and the others.
“This is a pretty mess,” a familiar voice broke in on his gloomy meditations. He jerked his head about and beheld Kidd standing by the road at the end of Collin's store.
Reese started to dismount, but Doctor Kidd quickly stayed him, saying, “Ride on. Meet you in the back room of the Pilgrim's Rest. It's a bad business.”
CHAPTER II
Heirs at Odds
THE influx of strangers to Silver Bow permitted the gathering in the back room of the saloon to pass unnoticed. Groups of politicians and would-be office holders were busily plotting and scheming in every public resort. Even the hurdy-gurdies had schemers who were oblivious of the dancing and the music. When Reese and Doctor Kidd entered the rear room, Reese, who was in the lead, found himself held up by a swarthy-faced man, a stranger to him. Doctor Kidd called out:
“All right, Benito. He's sound.” Then to Reese as the door closed behind them, “This is a friend of Cap'n Cram's. Just blew in from the south. He runs with us.”
Reese nodded without glancing a second time at the new recruit. Captain Cram's shaggy head was more disheveled than usual, and a baleful glint in his eyes proclaimed a terrible rage. The sight of Reese seemed to set him off on a violent tangent. In a voice that rocked and trembled with poorly suppressed anger he began a terrible tirade against Cinders, who was lowering from a corner, with one hand on his hip close to his gun.
“Damn you!” gritted Cram, swinging about to face Cinders. “You killed two men when you rubbed the Tiger out.” The long knife flashed from his belt and he stood before the frightened ruffian ready to thrust. Cinders, with his hand now resting on his gun, made no move in self-defense. His mouth opened and closed spasmodically, but he said nothing. Reese remained rigid, unable to move a muscle as he watched for the knife to be lunged forward. Doctor Kidd glided in front of the captain and clasped his wrist with fingers of steel. In a low voice he told his leader:
“Before you start killing folks suppose you find out how much this man knows. If he had learned the Tiger's secret I can understand his reason for potting him.”
The captain's feral gaze slowly shifted to stare at the hand enclosing his hairy wrist. He stepped back and disengaged Kidd's grasp and restored the knife to the belt. Kidd told the cowering wretch in the corner, “I've saved your hide for the minute. Now give us a straight talk.”
“Doctor Kidd, Cap'n Cram, 'n' Bloover, wish I'll be struck dead in my boots if I know anything more about that gold than you folks do,” gasped Cinders. He furtively raised a hand to mop the sweat from his low forehead.
“Then you're a worse fool than I'd believed,” harshly said Bloover.
Glancing around the ferocious half circle Cinders lost his nerve entirely and babbled, “I wa'n't gunnin' for him! But t'was him or me. I'd been down by his shack, keeping watch from a hut farther down the road. When I come to town for some grub 'n' a drink he must 'a' trailed me. First thing I know he was standing close by me and had grabbed my left arm 'n' was cussin' me to beat all natur'. Then he said I was a damn spy, and that he was bound to cash my chips for me. He started to draw a gun, I doing the same, for it was life or death with a second for the toss-up. The hammer of his gun caught in his shirt and I fetched out my iron 'n' bored him. I was him or me, boss. You'd 'a' done the same.”
“From what I've gathered from town talk, Cap'n, that's about how it happened,” said Kidd. “They are not blaming Cinders. Plain self-defense. But damn expensive for us. He just did the best he knew how, only he didn't know enough.”
“He killed a man who knows where a immortal fortune is hid!” hissed Cram. “All he had to do was to bend a gun over the Tiger's head and ride to Rocker and report to me. And the poor, mis'rable fool killed three hundred thousand dollars!”
Bloover sucked in his breath with a hissing sound. Even Kidd, usually so successful in concealing his feelings, revealed the tigrine quality of his condemnation by his blazing gaze. Benito, the new man, eagerly urged, “Cut his weazen!”
This invited Cram's wrath. He told Benito, “Keep your yap shut. I'm running this show ... Cinders, I'm going to let you keep on living for a spell ... Reese, what have you learned?”
The tension relaxed, and Cinders slumped down to the floor and mopped his wet forehead, while the other men found stools and eagerly waited. Reese repeated a portion of his talk with Annie Logan. In concluding he said, “She can take the third her father would have taken had he lived and agreed to trade.”
Cram eyed him craftily and remarked, “So she does know where the gold's hid?”
“No. She does not,” promptly answered Reese.
“Then how in Tophet does she come in for any third?” wrathfully asked Cram.
“It would be a damn shame. Just wastin' of it,” protested Cinders.
“You keep shut. Don't call attention to yourself,” warned Cram. “Well, Reese?”
“Although her father kept his secret to himself,” began Reese, “the young lady has eyes. She's smart. She must have an idea, in a general way, where to look. If she'll help us to find the stuff we can afford to give her a third.”
“We can't afford to give her a dollar unless we have to,” bruskly said Cram. Then with sudden suspicion, “But how do we know but what she told you where it is?”
Reese laughed, and countered, “Would I be here, chinning with you folks, if I knew? The girl told me nothing of interest except to promise to shoot if I didn't make myself scarce. Say we find the gold and refuse to give her any. What's to stop her from having a big mob trailing us? Getting it away from Tiger Logan is different from taking it away from the girl. And you folks seem to forget that I'm the man who found the gold at the start. Cram, you must quit thinking of the gold as being your personal property. Even your men won't stand for that. The Tiger and all of you horned in on my game. I'm willing to split. It's the price I play for the fool way I let the stuff slide through my hands.”
“I reckon you wouldn't be here if she'd told you,” slowly said Cram.
“Yes he would,” crisply corrected Doctor Kidd. “He's got brains. He'd come to us if he knew just where it's hidden. For the good reason he hasn't had time to remove it.”
“Think what you want to, all of you, but I know no more about the hiding place than does any man in this room,” carelessly said Reese.
“I don't say that you do know,” said Kidd. “I simply opine you'd be here if you did know. And that you'd run with us on false trails until you found a chance to get away with it. But I don't believe you've had time to learn anything. We'll drop that ... How does the girl feel about her father's death?”
“She feels venomous.”
“Does she know who potted him?” eagerly asked Cram.
“She knows Cinders did it, and that he's one of your outfit. She holds you responsible for anything anyone of your outfit does.”
Cram glared at Cinders and said, “Now, see what you've done! You low-down, mis'rable bungler!”
“Softly, softly, Cap'n,” soothed Kidd. “Even a Democratic convention can't keep your bull-like voice from being heard ... Now I think this should be our next play. Reese will see the girl, play sweet on her, and get her to tell if she knows where the gold is cached. The rest of us must keep low in some snug place within easy striking distance of her cabin.”
“The hut down the road beyond her place will be prime for that,” eagerly offered Cram.
“We'll look it over tonight,” said Kidd. Then to Reese, “And you'll be ready to work on the girl and learn just how much she does know?”
Reese's gorge rose, but a swift glance at the vulpine faces made him cautious. “Yes, I'll see her again, of course,” he said. “She promised to shoot any of you who comes near her cabin, and she has the Tiger's gun. She may shoot me. However, I've been there once and got away and I'll try again.”
Doctor Kidd laughed mirthlessly, and announced, “If you fail, I'll try. And remember, Reese, there's no more chance for you to run for it than there is for Cinders to win the young lady's love. You'll be watched. I don't believe you know where the gold is, but I do believe you can find out. You're likely looking and can win a woman's confidence”
“Shut up, Kidd!” broke in Reese. “All I want is some of the gold. By rights, it's all mine. I worked hard and used my head. And I located it. I'd rather have part of it than none of it. You folks don't trust me, and you won't trust each other. I trust none of you. But you can't euchre me out of the game. The young woman will shoot Cinders on sight. He'd better keep camp, stay in the background.”
“All this beating 'round the bush gits us nowhere,” spoke up Cinders, his fear of a summary vengeance emboldening him. “I say we must take a short cut 'n' stop fooling 'round. Steal the girl, take her into the hills and make her tell. We can't hang 'round this town only about so long with out folks gitting curious. Who knows but what the girl may clear out any time? If she does that, how can we stop her? Hold up the stage? Of course not.”
“Get this right before you overplay your hand and fetch a vigilance committee down on you,” warned Reese: “The Logan girl knows nothing about the gold except that her father got some, somewhere.”
Doctor Kidd smiled enigmatically, and said, “You must have had quite a cosey talk with her to learn so much about her. She must have changed her mind about shooting you. You try her again, Reese, and learn more. One of the men will watch her shack tonight, to see she doesn't mizzle before morning. Reese can do most of the watching daytimes.”
Cram suddenly decided Kidd was forgetting who was chief of the band. He hotly reminded, “Just remember who's running this outfit, Kidd.”
“All right. Give your orders,” said Kidd.
“You took the words out of my mouth, that's all. I'll name a man to stand watch tonight. Rest of us will keep a general eye open. I'm thinking Cinders' notion of carrying her into the hills should be kept in mind. He made a terrible botch of his job, but taking the girl away ain't no slouch of a plan. If she don't know, or if she knows and won't tell, it'll be well to have her out of the way so we can search her cabin 'n' the ground 'round it. If it comes to runnin' her into the hills Reese can give out word she's left town. Reese better not seem to know us. He can stop right here at the Rest. Town's so upside down with gold fever 'n' politics no one will have much time to be curious.”
Doctor Kidd received this show of authority with a smile. Reese agreed it was best he should not appear to know any of the five men, and passed out the back door. He knew his status had changed now that there was no Tiger Logan to dicker with. Cinders' plan, indorsed by Cram, worried him much. He feared lest it be put into operation that night. Kidd's subtle mind must have realized the danger of suspicion being directed against the outfit once the convention ended and the citizens took time to make note of the five idlers. As a result of these cogitations Reese decided to visit the Logan cabin and warn the girl to be on her guard.
Crossing the street he plunged in between the buildings to the next street and walked rapidly down the road, passing a string of log houses. There was scarcely any sign of life in this street as all Silver Bow City was congregated on the main thoroughfare, talking gold, talking politics, and seeking diversion in the various resorts.
REESE hurried on until a light told him he was abreast of the rear end of the Logan cabin. His problem was to secure the girl's attention without inviting a bullet. A few willows and patches of wild grass afforded the only cover as he quit the road and slowly made his way toward the light. There was no moon, but the stars burned like planets. When close to the cabin a clattering of hoofs in the road caused him to drop in the grass. He made out several horsemen, and he knew Cram and his men were moving down to the old hut a quarter of a mile below the Logan place. The little cavalcade slowed down to a walk and two horsemen halted. A deep voice, commanding them to ride on, Reese identified as Cram's. He had drawn his gun, fearing they had decided to abduct the girl that very night.
Waiting until satisfied the horsemen were really on their way Reese ran swiftly to the house and stood against the logs close to a window. Before he could make a signal Annie Logan was sharply demanding:
“What skulker's out there? I heard you. Speak up, or I'll shoot.”
“It's Jim Reese. I've something important to tell you. Open the window a bit so I can talk.”
After a few moments the girl lifted the window and extinguished the light.
“Come along,” she whispered softly.
He stepped to the window and waited a bit for her to speak, and then asked, “Are you there, Miss Logan?”
A slight noise behind him caused him to whirl about. The muzzle of one of Tiger Logan's .45's was digging hard into his side; and Logan's daughter was fiercely demanding:
“How dare you come here like this?”
“To do you a good turn,” murmured Reese. “There's a gun in my belt. Take it, and then let's talk.”
He felt the gun leave his belt. The girl stepped back a pace and ordered, “Squat. Be mighty smart in explaining.”
“I came to warn you to leave this place at once,” he began. She interrupted with a derisive little laugh. He went on, “You must ride into Butte. Ride anywhere. But don't stay here.”
“Now just what game are you trying to play?” she murmured.
“Believe it, or not, but I only want to know you are safe. Five men just rode down the road to put up in an empty shack below. They believe you know where your father cached the dust. I told them you didn't know. They may take a notion to run you into the hills and hold you there until you tell them.”
“They may take a notion,” she scornfully repeated.
“They've decided to do that,” he impatiently told her.
“You're sure it isn't your notion to scare me from my home so's you can ransack the place?”
“You will believe that if you want to. But they'll carry you into the hills before anyone searches this place.”
“I understand,” she dryly said. “If I run away you can go back and tell the skunks the dust isn't here. If I refuse, that shows it's here, and they will try something else.”
He was exasperated. He insisted, “I am trying to do you a good turn, but you make it a hard job. At least go to some friend up the street and arrange to stay there nights. They'll scarcely dare risk running you off in the daytime.”
“And leave this place unguarded nights for you and your friends to search? I have no friends in Silver Bow. My pap was scary of friends. I've lived alone and done my own thinking. I think you're a crook along with the rest of them. I'm sticking here. No. Not a word ... I'm going inside. At the door I'll toss your gun back. Get out, and stay out.”
She rose and edged backward to the door. Baffled and angered that his motives should be so misjudged Reese glumly waited until the gun fell at his feet. Securing the weapon he made direct for the main street and turned toward the town. As he strode along, nursing his chagrin, and condemning the obtuseness of all chestnut-haired young women he suddenly sensed danger. The monitor in his mind had sounded a warning. He slowed his pace and tilted his head in an attitude of listening. He had had premonitions of danger before, but there seemed no reason for this sudden, uneasy feeling. No one knew he had visited the cabin. A footpad could do better in the crowded, boisterous town. With his head half-turned and endeavoring to walk less noisily, he kept on. There came a soft swish in the grass at the side of the road, a sound so low as to be scarcely audible. He suddenly faced about and squatted on his heels and was rewarded by discerning a blob of something against the sky line.
“Man's head,” he mechanically decided as he drew his gun and waited. The head vanished almost instantly. Half a minute passed, when a slight noise in the grass on the other side of the road caused him to face in that direction Instantly he was attacked by a flying figure which leaped upon him like a gigantic frog.
As he went on his back under the impact of the assault he wondered he could have been deceived by the second sound caused by a rock, or stick, hurled across the road. His assailant was a heavy man. He grunted as he stabbed downward. Reese felt the blade against his neck as it sank into the ground. Bringing up his right hand he fired blindly at the figure weighing him down. He felt the spasmodic jerk which told the assassin was hit; and with a mighty effort he rolled clear and advanced his gun for a second shot. But the blur on the grass remained motionless. Leaping to his feet Reese ran rapidly up the road and dodged behind the first building, a store. He halted and took advantage of the light streaming from a rear window to brush the dirt from his clothes and otherwise remove all traces of the encounter. Then he reloaded the empty chamber.
Continuing behind the buildings until he reached Collins' store he boldly made for the street and crossed to the Pilgrim's Rest and joined the long line at the bar and called for a beer. In the light of the long room he surveyed his person more carefully and furtively brushed away specks of road dirt. All the time his mind was in a tumult of speculation. He was forced to conclude he was unknown to his assailant and that the man was a footpad trying his luck where be could find a victim.
HE WAS finishing his beer when in the mirror he beheld Doctor Kidd, slim and dapper, standing close behind him. The dark face was blank as a mask but the man could not deaden the light in his eyes. He breasted the bar beside Reese and with a smile and a flash of his white teeth seized Reese's hand and pressed it warmly. For a second or two the long fingers rested on Reese's wrist. Then be was saying:
“Your pulse is racing? What's happened?”
“Happened? One beer has happened. What do you mean?”
“Probably you've been hurrying. I hunted for you after you quit the back room, but you were gone.”
“If it interests you I'll say I stepped outside for a bit. I was close by when you five rode off down the road. Now I am here. What's the meaning of the pulse, and guessing that I've been hurrying?”
“Oh, not an awful lot,” carelessly replied Kidd. “You been here long enough to drink one beer.” With a quick flirt of his hand he drew Reese's gun, and raised the muzzle to his nose and took a sniff before Reese could move to secure the weapon. Then he was handing it back, saying, “A good gun.”
“Damn you, Kidd! Never try that again,” warned Reese wrathfully. “I've got six loads of certain death in that gun.” And his hand closed over the handle.
“I noticed it was fully loaded. But it's been fired within the last thirty minutes.”
“Well, of all the nosey, prying around!”
“No, no, Reese. You might fool Cram, but not me,” softly said Kidd. “Your pulse is galloping. You've just come from outside. You shot at something. I was down the road and heard the shot. It was between me and the town.”
“Anything else?” Reese asked coldly.
“Not much ... By the way; the man you killed down the road was Benito.”
Reese watched the doctor's face in the mirror as he asked, “You found his knife?”
“Yes. Buried almost to the hilt in the dirt.”
“Of course he never did that after he was hit,” reminded Reese.
“That's better, Reese. Much better. I simply want an understanding between you and me. It was Cram's idea of fetching Benito into the outfit; and we all know too many are in it now. You have fighting guts. You're bright. Cinders and Bloover are so many fools. Not more than ten years old from the nose up. We two could go far if we could trust each other and work together.”
“I'm as trustful as a little child,” said Reese. “Deal.”
Kidd's lips twitched and showed his teeth.
“Anyway,” he said, “you've got head enough to know it'll take two good men to get away with Plummer's loot. You tried it by yourself once, and failed.”
“But Logan got away with it alone,” Reese reminded.
“Because you weren't looking for him to cut in on your play. And see how Logan fared. Killed in his tracks by that imbecile Cinders.”
“Have a drink and be frank and noble,” urged Reese.
After two beers were served Kidd further confided, “I don't know why Benito jumped you. I don't care. I'm glad you rubbed him out. Cram planned to have him along when he jumped with the gold. The rest of us were to be dished. Cram would ring in a cold deck on his grandmother when it comes to bagging dust. Now I'm thinking that you and I can cold-deck Cram and split the loot. What say?”
“An even split would be generous of me,” mused Reese. Then suddenly, “But what if I should tell Cram of your offer?”
Kidd laughed softly and replied, “I'd say you were trying to set two old friends against each other. Not that Cap'n Cram trusts any man on earth when it comes to raking in a fat pot.”
Reese pushed back his hat and confessed, “You interest me. But before we get down to bargaining, please tell me why you think you'd be better off to throw in with me?”
“I stumbled over Benito's body beside the road. It was nearer the Logan cabin than to the town. I knew at once you had been down to talk with the girl. You weren't up here; you must be down there. Benito killed and several ounces of dust were in his pockets. Yes, I took the dust so it would look like a thief's work. Take me in on the deal and we'll split it three ways, if you really meant what you said about the girl having a share.”
“You were holding out for a fifty-fifty divvy,” Reese reminded.
“Of course I want it that way. The girl is entitled to nothing.”
“Kidd, the girl hasn't the remotest idea where her father cached that dust,” earnestly lied Reese.
“And yet you risk a night visit to her! Reese, you're playing with me. It's not a good game. I've weathered lots of trouble in lots of places.”
“Kidd, if you knew where that stuff is you'd haul out without ever stopping to kiss any of us good-by. If I knew, I should be riding continuous,” said Reese. “Now I'll do this. I'll help block Cram, Cinders, and Bloover. When it comes to a show down it will be my pot, or yours. Winner take all. Is that worth playing for?”
“That's handsome enough,” heartily agreed Kidd. “The two of us against the world until the discovery is actually made ... And by the way, I dragged Benito closer to town. We'll let Cram believe he was killed in a street fight.”
“Thanks. But I reckon Cram would approve of the truth. Benito must have lost his head. Cram would never want me rubbed out if he thought I knew the secret, or stood a chance of learning it. I'm rather precious to Cap'n Cram.”
Kidd gripped the bar with both hands. His dark face worked into and out of an animal snarl.
“By God, I wonder if Cram's on the true trail and thinks to thin out those interested!”
Reese had not gone as far as this in his reasoning, and Kidd's deduction hit him like a blow.
Kidd continued, “So long as there was a chance of you discovering the hiding place you'd be precious to all of us. Now Benito never lost his head. He's fiery, but he obeys orders. Rode with Cram two years ago. I'm afraid, Reese, you're a marked man. I'm afraid the Cap'n has found a clue.”
“But where, how, when?” challenged Reese. “This evening, in here, he knew nothing. You've been with him ever since.”
“Benito must have stumbled onto something while scouting around the Logan house ... Reese, he must have overheard something ... You must have talked with the girl and he overheard that talk ... Reese, if I believed you already know the truth I'd”
“No, no, Doctor Kidd. Nothing violent. If you believed that you'd cherish me dearly and try to cut my throat once you'd hit the right trail. Cap'n Cram's the lad you should watch. Not me.”
CHAPTER III
The Cold Deck
AFTER Benito's body had been buried in an unmarked grave Cram called Kidd, Cinders, and Bloover to the shack below the Logan cabin to discuss plans. He abruptly opened the council by declaring, “Some enemy's lighted on our trail. Someone's thinking to whittle us down till we're all rubbed out. Who did for poor Benito?”
“Who does for any man found dead in or on the outskirts of any of these towns?” countered Doctor Kidd. “The fool probably quit his post to go to town and get a drink. Someone saw he had a poke of dust and followed him to the edge of the town and did for him. His pockets were empty.”
“Pro'b'ly how it happened,” grumbled Cram, tugging hard at his beard. “He had several hundred in dust that I know of. Well, he's gone. But I don't 'tend to wait till someone else is rubbed out. We've got to do something quick. We'll soon be noticed and talked about, and taken for road agents.”
“I'm for action,” quickly encouraged Kidd. “I don't want any 7-3-77 card pinned on my sleeve.”
“Shut up about vigilantes,” said Cram, his dark eyes looking afraid. “We ain't done a thing to stir up them pests. But we're gitting nowhere. We must git to work. I reckon that gold's within a mile of here. Things must hum from now on. To begin with I'm going to shift the cut on that Reese. He's cold-decking us.”
“Easy, Cap'n,” murmured Kidd. “We must be soft 'n' gentle with Reese. He's talked with the girl. He knows more'n he'll let on. After we learn certain things we can act up rough with him. Until then he's our dear brother.”
“A body would think to hear you talk that you was the only one in this outfit with any brains under your hair,” sneered Cram. “You have an uppity way with me at times that's rasping. Who's talked about being rough with Reese before we ought to? If he knows about the gold it's because the girl told him. He didn't know in Rocker when he come into my saloon and asked us to chip in with him. So this is what I'm going to do right away. Run the girl ten miles into the hills, back to Sammy Danver's old shack, and make her tell.”
“What's to stop Reese from lifting the dust and vamoosing, if he knows where it is?” asked Cinders.
“Well put,” said Cram, and nodding his shaggy bead in approval. “I'm gamblin' he's sweet on the girl. That's my answer. Made all that talk about giving her a third. When we first blew in he said he wouldn't stand for any abuse to her. If he ain't sweet on her, and if he knows where the stuff's hid, why hasn't he tried to lift it? What's your notion, Kidd?”
“Haven't a doubt but what he's sweet on her. Showed it in his talk with me,” promptly replied Kidd.
“There it is! At least the girl knows where the gold's hid. And if my guess is right Reese will come pounding into the hills after the girl, if he feels toward her as the doctor 'n' me reckon he does. Then we'll have both of them. If neither will talk, why we'll hold them at Danver's shack until we've ripped out the Logan cabin and had a peek under them beds of posies. They look suspicious to me. Flowers! Then if we don't find color we'll let Reese see us work on the girl to make her tell. He'll tell the truth to save her. What's your notion, Kidd?”
“It sounds good. Can't lose. Ought to win. How will you work it, and when?”
“Tonight, right after sundown, before the stars git to lighting things up. All you've got to do is to keep Reese in town for an hour after sundown so he can't bother us. It won't take but half a minute if the road's clear.”
“My part's easy. But the girl will shoot you on sight,” warned Kidd.
“She don't know me by sight; only by name. I'll play a game on her. Leave that to me. I'll catch her off her guard and one of the boys will grab her. Cinders and Bloover will keep close in this shack till middle of the afternoon. Then Cinders will buy a burro, load it with grub and start for the Danver place. Bloover will stay and help me.”
Despite his indorsement Kidd did not relish the scheme. He feared some game. He could not credit Cram with much ingenuity, and yet the leader's sudden decision, without any preliminary discussion, bothered him. His first suspicion was that Reese and Cram had reached a working agreement and were planning to drop him out of the circle. Yet he readily assented, saying:
“It can't do any harm, and it may help us. You'll find it hard to out-Injun that girl. She mustn't have time to scream. It must be done very smoothly.”
“Leave it to me to do it smooth,” said Cram with a chuckle. “She'll give no alarm. You go to town. Doctor; circulate 'round and fetch up with Reese and keep him with you for an hour after sunset.”
“I'll do my best,” promised Kidd. “But if he takes a notion to call on the girl I'll have to bend a gun barrel over his head.”
“Bend it in that case,” ordered Cram; and Kidd discarded his first suspicion. “Now Cinders can go for a burro and buy the grub and start.”
“What if Reese catches on that Cinders is buying a mule and some grub?” asked Kidd.
“It won't make any difference. We want him to chase along. With the two of them back in the hills we'll have plain sailing.”
Kidd rose and brushed the dust from his clothes and assented, “All right. I'm off to look up Reese. He was playing poker at the Pilgrim's Rest an hour ago. I don't believe he'll offer to go to the Logan shack after dark.” Saying this he left the shack and mounted his horse and rode up the road. A few rods away he reined in and turned and stared at the squat structure as if seeking to read the riddle he believed to be contained in Cram's sudden plan. Once the gold was found it would mean a survival of the most vicious. But there was Cram taking the initiative. Invariably he sought his companion's advice when contemplating anything of importance.
HE BROODED over the problem so deeply as he walked his horse up the road that he was not conscious of the slim figure in calico bending over the flower beds at the Logan cabin. As he came in sight of the Rest he suddenly threw up his head, and murmured, “Can that be the answer! Is it possible that thickhead has fooled us all!”
Instead of taking his horse to the livery stable he rode to a small corral and turned his mount over to the keeper, and paused to remark, “Some lively burros you have in back. Sell many?”
“Good trade in 'em,” said the keeper. “No one else has bothered to handle 'em. I outfit for parties leaving Butte and Rocker as well as this town. Sort of got my name up for filling the bill.”
Kidd nodded and entered a saloon near the corral and seated himself by a window and called for beer. He remained an hour, sipping his beverage and watching the corral. At last he was rewarded by seeing Cram, instead of Cinders, ride up and dismount. He saw him talk some minutes with the corralkeeper and finally left with a burro which he led to Collins' store and hitched and left. Kidd emerged and went to the Pilgrim's Rest. From a bartender he learned Reese was still playing poker in the back room. He watched a monte game in a corner where he could look out on the street until he saw Cram come from the store with a quantity of provisions. He went back for more supplies, and when he had packed these the small animal was all but concealed by the load. Then he led the burro down the road and Cinders joined him.
Kidd hurried to the corral and secured his horse and mounted. When he offered to pay the keeper told him, “Hardly worth charging for, he was here such a short time.”
“You must make a profit to keep in business,” said Kidd, and he tossed the man a dollar. Then he asked, “Seen anything of my friend, Cap'n Cram?”
“He was here just after you left your hoss. Did a good stroke of business with him. Sold him six burros, but he took only one way. Calling for the rest later.”
“I knew he planned on buying some,” murmured Kidd. He suddenly wheeled his horse and rode off before the man could read the terrible rage convulsing for the moment his dark face. At the saloon close by he dismounted and hitched his horse to the rack and went inside and stood at the end of the bar and ordered a drink. This time he called for whisky and bolted it at a gulp, and refilled his glass.
He heard nothing of the babbling radiating from the long line of thirsty men. Over and over he was telling himself, “Damn him! He's found it! He's found it!”
After the second drink he stood with his head bowed, not daring to look his neighbor in the face lest his mental plight be observed. A third stiff drink of the fiery liquor steadied his nerve. When he made for the door he was Doctor Kidd of the flashing teeth and sardonic smile. He halted in front of the saloon and endeavored to form some plan of action. It would never do to betray his suspicion until the gold was uncovered. He now believed three people knew the secret: the Logan girl, Reese, and Cram. That the last should have stumbled upon it hurt his pride. He had looked on Cram as being no more subtle than an ox. He had trailed along with the outfit, content that Cram should pose as leader, as that suited his convenience. Now he was angry because he was compelled to pay homage to Cram.
“Who ever would have believed that that lunkhead had brains enough to plan a game which would withdraw Cinders and Bloover into the hills and keep me posted here to ride herd on Reese?” he angrily muttered. Cram possessed a latent cunning he had not suspected. He would toss the girl to Cinders and Bloover, to kill if they took the notion, and he would find some good reason for returning to town. And that would be the last they should see of Captain Cram.
Kidd checked off the different points, quite cool now and very astute. As his cunning brain began working at its best his anger gradually left him. He finished his rapid cogitations with a smile of genuine pleasure. His pride had been hurt for a bit; now he was deciding nothing could have happened more fortunately. He rejoiced that Tiger Logan's secret had not ended in the grave. He walked jauntily into the Pilgrim's Rest and made for the back room. Reese was seated behind several big stacks of chips and was betting a local gambler off the board.
Kidd stood behind him for several pots before Reese turned his head and discovered him. “I felt your sweet presence, Doctor,” he cordially greeted. “But you remember what I told you last night. I'm not the one to watch if you want an eyeful”
“Just killing time,” said Kidd.
A player rose and said, “I'm cashing in. Take my place.”
Kidd slid onto the stool and drew out a bag of dust and took chips. Reese's interest in the game vanished. He made his bets mechanically and after a round he cashed in. Kidd suddenly remembered an important piece of business and did likewise. Outside the door Reese halted and asked, “Well, what is it?”
“Cram is up to some kind of a game,” murmured Kidd. “I'll play in with you at least until the pot's uncovered. Your own idea, you'll remember.”
“Blindman's buff,” sneered Reese.
“No. It's a big talk,” earnestly insisted Kidd. “Meet me here tonight at sundown and I'll have news. It will be very important.”
“But we're here now. Why wait till sundown?”
“One more fact I want to learn definitely. And I can do it. Will you be here? It'll be worth hearing. I can say right now that Cram's planning to cold-deck us.”
“Bah!” jeered Reese. “We're all trying to cold-deck each other. There's no loyalty when gold, or a woman, is the prize. As for Cram he couldn't fool a blind horse. But I'll be here if nothing unusual calls me away. And you make it sharp.”
Kidd nodded and hurried to the street, mounted, and cantered down the road. Reese watched him from the doorway and endeavored to guess his game. He had detected a note of fierceness in Kidd's bearing and tone. But whether Kidd's news concerned his interest, or was merely a play to secure his help in an offensive move against Cram, he could not decide. Of one thing he was positive: Kidd was looking out for himself.
“Like a deaf man playing with those sharks in the back room.” grumbled Reese. “I know something is happening to me, but don't know just what it is.” Acting on an impulse he took to the street and walked down to the Logan cabin.
ANNIE LOGAN was working over the flower beds. She rose with a flush of annoyance on beholding him.
“Look here!” she greeted. “What do you mean by trailing down here. I thought you understood your company's not wanted.”
He threw himself on the grass and earnestly told her, “I'm trying to make you believe that I've got something besides Plummer's gold on my mind. So far as I'm concerned you can have it all.”
She laughed shortly and reminded, “But I have it all.”
“Don't bleat it out like that!” he begged as he cast suspicious glances about the premises, and feared eavesdroppers. Then very earnestly, “Don't you ever admit to anyone else on earth that you know. You're being watched most of the time. Being watched now, most likely.”
She dusted the dirt from her hands, and in a low voice told him, “I'm tired of this. Tired of being watched by members of your gang. I don't want you to come here again. I couldn't help the way my father acted about that dust. I couldn't stop him. But I can keep from knowing any more folks taken the same way. There's a curse on Plummer's stealings. I'll not touch them. Nor shall anyone else by means of any talk from me. Now I want you to go and stay away. Is that plain enough?”
“Even a yaller dog would get your drift, Miss Annie,” he replied as he rose to his feet. “But I'm not one of Cram's outfit.”
“You're an idler, a loafer. I can't see that you do anything but hang around and try to make a fortune out of money stolen from poor, unfortunate people.”
He picked up his hat, bowed and left her. Her words seared his soul. He resented the rank injustice of it. He had found the treasure, and her reckless father had stolen it from him. He admitted he might have fared better had he given up the long hunt and had put in his time working a placer. But that was no criminal error. And his jaw set as he swung up the road, and he vowed he would play the game out, let the girl think what she would.
Left alone, by her own wish, the girl lost her interest in the flowers. She almost regretted her words to the likable young man: that is, likable if engaged in some honest work. Of course his visits to her had to be discouraged, but she was sorry she had called him a “loafer.” Next she became angry that she carried him in her thoughts at all. Entering the cabin she began packing a rawhide box with her personal effects. She was tired of it all: mountains; rough men, the eternal talk of gold, and all else. Reese had urged her to go to Butte. She would go farther than that. She would go to the States. She had enough gold, honestly come by, to support her for two or three years, or much longer than she would require while finding a niche of decency and helpfulness to fit into.
Her belongings were soon disposed of, and she came to her father's guns. He had lived a hard, rough life, although always gentle and loving to her. The guns reminded her of cruel things. She hesitated, but only for a moment. To leave them would make her feel she was disloyal to him; and they were added to the contents of the shallow box. Then she did something she never would want young Reese to know, something her father would be ashamed of, could he know. She broke into passionate weeping. The weakness enveloped her so quickly she had no time to fight against it.
After a few minutes she regained control of herself and bathed her face and proceeded to Collins' store and made a few purchases, and arranged with a young and worshipful clerk to engage passage for her on the morning stage. Now she had decided to leave she could not go soon enough. Reese would think she was bound for Butte and would little guess she was traveling to Salt Lake City, to Denver, and thence by Ben Holiday's stage to North Platte, then the terminus of the Union Pacific, where she could revive childish memories by again riding on a railroad.
In the store and on the street she furtively glanced around, expecting to see Reese. She could not tell whether she was pleased or sorry she had not glimpsed him. The sun was teetering on a lofty range when she returned to her cabin for the last night in gold land. She cooked and ate her supper. She washed the dishes and saw that all was in order, although she was leaving the place to shelter the first straggler. As she finished her work and suddenly decided she felt lonely, and was wishing the night away, her attention was attracted to the road by a wild outcry. Mechanically she took her father's guns from the box and stepped to the window. She dropped the weapons on beholding a man prostrate in the road, his horse standing by. Another man was hastily dismounting to bend over the fallen man. Throwing the guns aside she ran out to see if she could give aid to the unfortunate. Already he was being helped toward the cabin by his companion, who half carried, half dragged him along.
“Is he badly hurt?” she asked as the man lowered his burden to the ground.
“If you'll git me some water,” mumbled the shaggy-haired man. She wheeled to enter the house and at the doorway was enveloped in a blanket. She struggled fiercely and attempted to call out. She heard a sharp whistle and the sound of hoofs as the two horses ceased grazing and answered the signal. Then she was being bundled into the arms of a mounted man and was being carried away, the horses go ing at a mad gallop. She knew when they left the road and took to a rough trail.
WHILE this was happening, Reese, bitter of heart, was keeping his appointment with Doctor Kidd. His greeting caused Kidd's brows to rise. Both tone and words were surly. He said, “I'm here as I agreed, but I shan'n't be interested in any talk you can make. I'm through hunting for Plummer's gold, and through chasing around with you, or any of your damned gang.”
Kidd did not speak for half a minute, but bored his gaze into the sullen eyes. Then he smiled slightly and whispered, “You're through hunting because you know where it is.”
“I do not know. You've fooled yourself right along. You believed I was lying when I was telling the truth. I'm just quitting all treasure-hunting. Tired of it. Going to locate a placer and get some dust which never was in a dead man's pocket. It's all so simple you'd never believe it.”
“Very virtuous,” sneered Kidd. “But that particular pup won't fight. You agreed to play in with me against Cram”
“Cram!” exclaimed Reese in disgust. “That fool couldn't find his own tracks in winter. He's banking on me, on you, on anybody, to find the stuff. Then he banks on his gun play to get it away from the finder. I'm through, and you'll be wasting your breath to talk about it.”
Kidd laughed silently and appeared to be highly amused. “You have a right to quit. Every man has. And maybe I am wasting my breath. But I promised to meet you here and report what I could learn. I'm going through with my part of the bargain even if you turn tail and run. I haven't learned an awful lot, but enough to satisfy me Cram's new game has something to do with the gold.”
“New game?” dully repeated Reese. “Any game he works has to do with gold. But I know of nothing new he can try.”
“He's tried you and made nothing. Now he's giving his attention to the Logan girl ... But you're drawing out, and not interested.”
Reese straightened and half closed his eyes. “I'm waiting, Kidd,” he prompted.
“Then you are interested, eh? Well, it sounds rather blind but I gather that Cram plans to follow Cinders' advice and run the girl into the hills. I heard him speak of Sammy Danver's old shack.”
“Go on!”
“After I talked with you today I learned that Cinders had taken a load of grub in back somewhere.”
“And Cram didn't take you completely into his confidence?” murmured Reese, his eyes dilating.
Kidd's gaze was focused on the two thumbs hooked into the belt, the right hand being all but resting on a weapon. He boldly said, “I'd hardly be telling you this if I was in on the play. But Cram plans to be rid of me. I've seen it coming for some time. It may not amount to anything, the burroload of grub, the mention of Danver's old shack. Or it may be they intend running off with the girl as was planned in the back room when you were present. If so, I'm kicking at the treachery of it. For it was never planned that Cram should sneak her away without all of us being in on the deal.”
“If Cram tries to do that I'll kill him.” And Reese turned to leave the saloon.
Kidd caught him by the arm and softly cried, “What's the matter with you? You knew it was spoken of. There! I'm a fool. Of course you're hot under the collar, just as I am, to think Cram would try to cold-deck us by stealing her without letting us know.”
“You stay here, while I take a short walk. Miss Logan isn't going to be carried into the hills by anyone. I'm going now to warn her to come into town here, or to go to Butte.”
“I'll be here if you're not gone too long,” said Kidd.
Reese hurried down the road and turned in toward the cabin before he had the slightest suspicion he was too late. The girl was nowhere in sight, and the door of the cabin was open. He called her name several times, hoping to see the chestnut curls at the window, hoping even to hear her voice curtly ordering him away. But the place was dead. Still calling her name he ventured into the doorway. He saw an open rawhide box, and what he took to have been its contents were scattered on the floor.
As he turned to leave the room he glimpsed Tiger Logan's guns, .45's, in a corner. On an impulse he picked them up and thrust them through his belt. Then he started on a run and held to that pace until he reached the livery stable. Securing his horse he galloped from town, with Logan's guns still in his belt. Doctor Kidd, at a window of the Pilgrim's Rest, saw him ride forth in frantic haste. He softly rubbed his hands and smiled.
CHAPTER IV
Euchred!
SAMMY DANVER'S abandoned shack, back in the hills, was well known. For he, like Henry Plummer, had buried gold. Danver's dust was honest dust, however, some seven thousand dollars' worth. And he had cached it so securely, while under the influence of whisky, that he never had been able to find it. After Danver's death on the delirium tremens trail, men out of luck, or feeling lucky, took much time off to prospect around the shack. Reese had been there and knew the country well.
When Reese reached the side trail he entered it at a gallop, reckless of the twists and turns and occasional rocks. Not until his horse gave signs of distress did he clear his mind and slow down. The trail wound in and out, but always ascended, and the stars were so many flaming beacons when he finally halted on a rocky ridge fringed with stunted pines. Ahead, in a little hollow, was the blaze of a campfire. The dancing light reached far enough to reveal the low log cabin. Slipping from the saddle Reese surveyed the scene closely and was surprised to discover only two men. He walked boldly down the slope towards the fire.
The men leaped to their feet and one cried out, “Is that you, Cap'n?”
Thus Reese learned Cram was not yet to be reckoned with. He called back, “I'm Jim Reese, packing news about the cap'n. Don't get foolish with guns.”
His hands were at his belt as he strode up to them. Cinders and Bloover exchanged glances but could come to no understanding. They had supposed that Cram was through with the young man. From the corner of his mouth Bloover warned his mate, “It's the cap'n's row if there's to be a row.” He slumped down on the ground and eyed Reese coldly.
“Three guns in your belt. You're painted for war,” cried Cinders.
“Just two extra guns, good ones, I happened to pick up. Carried by Tiger Logan in his day. They've come to find his daughter. Where is she?”
Both men came to their feet, clawing feebly at their belts. But Reese had a gun out and was cautioning, “Don't act up like two fools and get yourselves killed. That is, don't do it unless you want Cram and Doctor Kidd to divide the Plummer gold.”
“What d'ya mean?” roared Bloover.
“Yes, Reese. You've got to say more'n that!” cried Cinders.
“Cram has rung in a cold deck on you two. You're losing a fortune.”
“If the cap'n was here he'd make you chaw them words,” said Cinders truculently.
“The cap'n not only isn't here, and doesn't intend to return here, but he's got you boys out of the way while he and Kidd split the pot.”
“You're trying to run a bluff on us,” panted Bloover.
Reese laughed softly and taunted, “You were two big fools to come up here and ride herd on the girl while your boss and Doctor Kidd scoop up the loot and carry it away... Miss Annie, are you all right?”
“Yes. But let me out,” she called from the tiny window in the cabin.
“Have they treated you civilly?”
“Aside from stealing me from my house, yes. But let me out!”
“Just a minute. I don't want you 'round if any lead's going to fly wild ... What do you say, you two? Peace or war? I shall take the girl back anyway.”
“The second we believe the cap'n's workin' a crooked deal we'll vote for peace. Our business will be where he is,” stolidly replied Bloover.
“Good. By this time Cram is digging up the lost gold.”
Cinders stared wildly at Bloover. The latter exclaimed, “If we could only know that! But you're bluffing.”
“I don't need to bluff with your kind. You won't lift a hand to stop me when I go to the cabin, toss a gun through the window and then unfasten the door. But the only way I can get even with Cram just now is to send you men to him. He's located the gold and he's hauling out tonight.”
“I reckon that's another lie—” began Bloover, when the girl's shrill voice silenced him, crying, “He speaks the truth! The gold was buried under the floor of the old shack, where you villains have been staying while you spied on my cabin.”
“Good God!” screamed Cinders, “You mean we folks been sleeping on top of more'n a quarter of a million dollars?”
Bloover howled like an animal and raced for his horse. Without bothering to secure a saddle he mounted, and, like a madman, rode away. Cinders shouted curses after Bloover, but was quick to take to horse and ride for the Silver Bow Road.
Reese ran to the cabin and unfastened the door. As Annie Logan emerged he seized her hands without realizing what he was doing.
“Are you hurt?” he cried.
“My feelings are hurt most mortal, Mister Reese. They walked in and dropped a blanket over my head and lugged me off. The man with the whiskers was the leader, but he rode away once he'd locked me in the cabin. Told the two men he was off to find Kidd, but would be back before morning. They reckoned it was him when you came pounding into the pines. I heard them say the cap'n had changed his mind and wasn't going to town. I felt mighty low.”
“He'll be back. We must be getting out of here,” he told her. Now that it was all over Reese could find nothing heroic in the situation. He had expected fierce gun play; and it had been as tame as chasing rabbits.
“He won't be back tonight,” she said. “See you've got pap's guns. Then you went to the cabin.”
“Yes. It was in disorder. Doctor Kidd gave me a tip as to where you'd been taken. I don't know what his object was, unless it was to get me up here where they could have the two of us. But I'll always thank him for speaking the truth for once in his life, even if he rides in with Cram within the next five minutes.”
“But they won't be back,” she insisted.
“Oh, but he will, Miss Annie. We must find a roundabout way to Silver Bow so's not to meet them. Kidd will never quit either you, or me, until the gold's uncovered. Cram won't quit him for fear of losing out.”
“They haven't found the gold?” she gasped.
He laughed in high amusement, and explained, “Of course that yarn was made up. Just a trick of mine to get Cinders and Bloover away. Neither Cram, or Kidd, would have believed it for a second. If I'd blown in and told them that story they'd be mighty quick to ask why I was here and not with the gold. The other two can't use their heads. Cram fetched you here so he could have a chance to do some digging among your flower beds. That's all.”
She halted and placed a hand on his arm and quietly said, “But they know now. At least the two who ran away know. I told them. I didn't want any shooting along of me. Better they take the gold and have it spoil their lives, just as it has spoiled pap's and mine. Far better they take it and ride away then to have you killed, Mister Reese. Enough blood's been filled over the awful stuff. It fetches death to everyone who tries to carry it away. From the first owner, down through Plummer, to all who get a glimpse of it. You've done me a good turn. I'm glad I told, as it will be a good turn for you. I've wanted to get you away from that trail and onto a trail that leads to honest work. I called you names without knowing the truth. And you came to help me in spite of that. That's mighty fine and friendly in you. Now let them ride with the gold, and it's the worst luck I could wish them.”
Her revelation stunned him. When he could speak he cried, “Miss Annie, what are you talking about? You told them? All you did was to chip in to help my game with a story about it being buried in the old shack”
“But it was! It was,” she whispered. “Pap said it was the most unlikely place folks would ever suspect. Bummers and floaters have stopped there, and nary a one ever guessed what was under their blankets. The gold's been buried in the old shack all the time.”
“Good Lord! What a fool I was to be so blind, so”
“Here! Stop that! No running away from me now,” she fiercely cried, and her hand caught his wrist as if to hold him back by main strength.
He stared foolishly at the slim fingers encircling his wrist, then smiled broadly.
“You can't drive me away,” he assured her. “I'd come after you just the same if there'd been eighteen billions in gold scattered all along the Silver Bow road. But to think I never guessed it! So Cram had you brought up here to keep Cinders and Bloover out of the game while he dug the gold. Kidd gave me the tip to get me out of the way. He figured Cinders and Bloover would put up a fight, and the more of us killed the better. He stayed in town. I'll get him ... I'll catch the burro and you can ride him.”
She fell back from him and asked, “You'd go on ahead and leave me to make it alone.” And the flickering light revealed much misery in her small face.
“You know better. But I'm rather heavy for a burro.”
“A burro'll carry as heavy a load as a horse, and carry it farther. I'll ride your horse. Mister Reese, and you can lead him. I'll ride half the way, and you can ride the rest. You'll not make Silver Bow in time to have a gun fight with Kidd if you keep your word and keep with me. And I'd believed you were done thinking about the gold!”
“I am done,” he hoarsely declared. “But I'm never done with Kidd till he's dead, nor with Cram, for planning to get me killed, get Cinders and Bloover killed, leaving you locked in that shack to die of slow starvation. I wouldn't follow them for a mile, for all the gold in the Rockies. But I'll follow them to the door of hell for leaving you locked up ... It makes me feel bad, Miss Annie, that you could believe I'd scoot off and leave you.”
“I'm sorry. I didn't understand. I've been brought up to trust no man, except pap, who had in his blood the fever for getting hold of Plummer's gold. Forget about me being locked up. I'd busted loose someway.”
“Everything is all right,” he calmly assured as he led her to his horse. “They found what I had found. It's human nature to want a whack at it. But I won't try to get it back. Now we'll start.”
FOR ten miles he walked ahead of the horse, talking over his shoulder to the girl. He had discovered the real Annie Logan; a voluble, animated, laughter-loving companion. She talked much more than he, for he was still brooding over the dastardly conduct of the treasure-hunters. He kept living over the arduous, exasperating experiences of the last three days, and his play for a fortune in thieves' gold in preference to honest placer hunting. He could not help recalling his elation when he finally succeeded in locating the horde. He had dubbed himself a genius. It was a sad reflection on his perspicacity that he had overlooked the possibilities of the old shack. He had searched long in less likely places. It hurt him cruelly that Cram had euchred him, that even now Kidd was laughing at him. Nevertheless, he could put that all behind him and count himself the winner in that he had won the friendship of this delightful young woman. But he never could put behind him the ruthless plan of using her as a decoy; a plan which could only succeed if she was left to starve in Danver's shack.
“I talk and talk, and you don't say much of anything, Mister Reese,” she was complaining.
“Maybe it's because you 'mister' me, Miss Annie. Most folks call me Jim. I'm fair tickled to hear you talk. Best music I ever heard.”
“Not pretty music when I called you names. I've been trying to tell you how badly I felt at not understanding you.”
“You're a good girl, Miss Annie. Most of what you said was the truth. I have been a floater. If I hadn't made money off the tables to pay for my keep I'd been a bummer,” he moodily said.
“But you're not such an old man that you can't learn to work,” she reminded.
“I've done what thousands out here do—play only for big pots.”
“But gambling never made a man yet,” she persisted.
“I'll be trying to be very decent pretty soon,” he mumbled. “You could make a man do most anything, I reckon.”
“I'm not making over any man,” she retorted. “That sort of upbuilding has to come from inside.”
“Preacher,” he laughed.
“I'd never tell you a word I didn't believe was for you own good,” she earnestly insisted.
He allowed the horse to crowd along beside him so he could pat one of her slim hands. He paused long enough to say:
“You couldn't say anything that wasn't for a body's good. I could say lots more, but you're alone with me in the hills, and you feel sort of thankful that I bothered to blow in and help you out. By and by, when you're in town, surrounded by friends, I'm coming up to the door and say, 'Annie Logan, the prodigal has come back. He hones to be everything you wish!' I'll take my answer then; not now.”
“But why go away and wander round playing the prodigal? Do you want to do that?”
He moved hurriedly to the head of the horse and replied, “I'll come as soon as I've finished a certain job.”
“And that's what?” she anxiously asked.
“To even up with Cram and Kidd for fetching you to that shack and leaving you there with Cinders and Bloover. He's a beast. He's welcome to the gold, but he must pay for that. You'd never respect a man who would let that pass.”
She knew it was useless to argue, or plead. It was all talked out. All she could do was to detain him from taking up the pursuit. She purposely held back the horse to give Cram more time in securing a lead. All she could hope for now was that the gold had been quickly discovered and immediately taken far away. He understood her play for delay, but patiently plodded along, standing and waiting when she reined in on the pretense of resting her mount. At last they came to the Silver Bow road, Reese striding ahead and the wise little burro bringing up the rear. A ten mile ride and a ten mile walk should have tired him, she hoped.
She breathed more freely when they came to the squat bulk of the shack and saw no light, nor heard no sounds. She waited while he entered.
He found himself on the edge of a deep hole. He stepped down into this and felt around with his hands. His fingers found a gold piece. He dropped it and returned to the girl. He briefly reported, “They've found it. Made a clean sweep.”
“May it be taken away so far it will never come back near our lives again!” she fervently declared.
“There was a lot of it,” he mused. “They can't be traveling very fast. Who do you know in town? You mustn't go back to your cabin.”
“Nonsense. No one is interested in Annie Logan now the cache has been found.”
“I am. More than ever.”
“And I'd scarcely wake up anyone in town and ask them to take me in without giving an explanation. Give me one of pap's guns. Not that I need it.”
He believed she would be perfectly safe, and it was useless to argue with her. He went as far as the door of the cabin and waited until she made a light, and said, “Here's the gun.”
She reached forward and took his own weapon from his belt and said, “You carry pap's. But, oh, I do wish you would not keep on!”
“Ask anything within my power after I come back. Good night.” Then he was in the saddle and riding up the road.
LIFE in town was at its height. He left the horse with the corral man and hurriedly made a round of the resorts. Not a member of the Cram outfit could be found; nor did he expect to find them. It was simply an initial move he believed he must make. Returning to the corral he told the keeper:
“Been trying to find some men from Rocker. Doctor Kidd is one of them.”
“I know him. Slim, dandified sort of a cuss. Talked with me today right after another Rocker man, Cram, bought some burros of me.”
“Erhuh? Haven't seen him or Cram this evening?”
“Kidd rode down the road after dark. Neither he, nor Cram has come back. I've been out here in front all the time.”
“Couldn't pass in the dark without you knowing it?” persisted Reese; for in the back of his mind he was wondering if Cram wouldn't return to Rocker and hide his gold in his saloon.
“Not by a jugful! I don't have to use my eyes, and they're mighty keen. After a hoss passes me once I can pick him out blindfolded by his gait. No two walk just alike, no more'n humans do. If I'm busy with my back to the road when you ride by I'll say to myself, 'There goes Gambling Jim Reese on his big roan.'”
“I see. Gambling Jim Reese, eh? So that's my handle.”
“More'n ever since you cleaned out the boys in the Rest this afternoon.”
“Thanks. I'll take my horse. Got to go somewhere.”
At Collins' store he bought some bacon and bread, two new blankets, and a generous supply of ammunition. Then he returned to the vicinity of the Logan cabin and picketed his horse and slept until early dawn.
He found himself relying on the evidence of the corralkeeper, and believing that Cram and Kidd had not returned to town. Whether Cram was alone, or traveling with Kidd and the others, he must be striking west for some out of the way place where he could cache the bulk of his loot. It was all a gamble, and while he did not relish his new title he must be Gambling Reese once more. He turned off the road and took a westerly course, a short distance from the foothills on his left. At sunrise he was riding slowly and scanning the ground. The burros and horsemen were bound to leave signs.
He came to the print of a shod hoof in one place. He noticed where some animal, presumably a burro, had browsed on bush growth in passing. Reese was in no hurry and allowed his horse to walk much of the time. At the end of ten miles he dismounted and walked with the horse at his heels. As he halted where the backbone of a ridge crossed his course he noticed his horse was pricking his ears. He listened and was startled to hear a faint cry on his left. Again it came and he identified it as a human voice. He suspected a trap and for a minute remained motionless. At quite regular intervals the cry reached him. He spoke to his horse and, with the animal walking beside him to serve as a shield, he advanced toward a fringe of bush growth. The voice came from within, or just beyond the bushes.
He pressed forward; then halted.
“Water! water!” the voice was monotonously calling.
He grabbed a canteen from his saddle and, with gun drawn, rushed forward.
“Where are you? Who is it?” he cried.
“Water! In God's mercy, water! I'm right here. Water!” wailed the voice.
He made his way into the bushes and found the sufferer. The man was on his back, with his head and shoulders concealed by overhanging branches. Reese drew him into full view and kneeled beside him. He was startled to find the man was Cinders. He had been shot in the side and chest. He gave him a drink, and asked:
“Who did this to you?”
The dying man stared up blankly for a bit. Then intelligence flickered across his stark face. With a last effort he gasped, “Cap'n Cram—dropped back with me to fix a pack—shot me down before you could spit—damn him!”
The eyes rolled and Reese feared he had gone. Bending low and splashing water on the man's face he loudly asked, “Where was he making for, Cinders?” He got no reply. “I'm Jim Reese. I'm hunting for Cram to kill him. Where is he making for?”
With an effort Cinders struggled back from the deep shadows and the fluttering lips murmured, “Big Hole.”
“You mean the Big Hole Mountains?” persisted Reese.
The lips formed an affirmative.
CHAPTER V
A Plummer Dividend
THE murder of Cinders affected Reese profoundly. It stressed Cram's bloody insistence on sharing the treasure with as few as possible. Instead of a smashing pursuit, a quick overhauling of the patient burros, and a gamble at gun play, Reese listened to the voice of caution and decided to take more time and caution. He took it for granted that Kidd was with Cram, inasmuch as the doctor had vanished from Silver Bow.
For an hour he pondered over the situation and arrived at two major conclusions. The gold would be taken into one of the many little ravines of the Big Hole Mountains and cached. The three men, if Kidd was one of them, would bide their time in getting the gold across the range and down into the Beaver Head country, to Virginia City; or they would move it north to Deer Lodge City. These two objectives would permit, respectively, the conveyance of the gold to Salt Lake City and Denver, or to the States by the way of Helena, Fort Benton and down the Missouri. Did they discover he was hunting them they would not attempt a running fight, but would wait until they could ambush him, or he had tired of blind searching. He had one great advantage: they could not suspect he had learned their destination from the dying Cinders.
Yet the Big Hole Mountains constituted a too big a hiding place to be combed in a hurry. The flight had been so abrupt it eliminated the probability of an adequate food supply. They must send out for food unless they were willing to live on game. Captain Cram would never go without his whisky. Reese was adamant in demanding the full price for the hideous fate they had offered Annie Logan, but the lust of coming to grips, with the odds against him, passed away. He shifted his course to the northwest and watched for travelers from the west. He saw a smoke before he saw any horsemen. He made for it and slowed down to reconnoiter two men cooking meat over a fire. They were strangers and he came up to them on a gallop.
The men, seeing the two guns in his belt, scanned him suspiciously and picked up their rifles and began examining them. He slid from the saddle and gave them a cheerful greeting. They responded in a neighborly manner and asked him to take pot-luck. But they did not appear to be at ease until he unbuckled his heavy belt and tossed it aside. One of them then remarked, “You travel light in grub, stranger, but heavy in guns.”
“I have bacon and ordinary fixings in my blanket roll, but I'll relish fresh meat. The guns are a nuisance. I never have carried more than one until this brace was given to me.”
“I see. Prospecting?” asked the second man lazily, his sweeping glance at horse and blanket roll revealing the entire absence of a miner's equipment.
“Trying to catch up with some men who pulled out ahead of me from Silver Bow. They're packing the grub and what-all. Making for the Big Holes.”
“Dish in and eat hearty ... You're off your trail a trifle. The Big Hole Mountains are down thataway.” And he pointed southwest toward the rugged heights.
Reese affected surprise and pointed to the snowy peaks ahead, and said, “I'd reckoned those were the Big Hole Mountains.”
Both men laughed, and one explained, “You're plumb green, stranger. But we all have to learn. Them's the Bitter Root Range.”
Reese grinned ruefully. Then he asked, “Is there some trading place between here and the Big Holes, where I can break my journey and buy some grub?”
The two exchanged glances. One replied, “Yes, there's a place—a big shebang with half a dozen small cabins stuck around it. But it ain't a mining camp, nor like the stores you'd find in Deer Lodge City. Men there have quite a lot of hosses”
“Which they never raised, nor bought,” bitterly cut in the second man.
“Hiram, your tongue will talk you into the path of a bullet some day.”
“I don't give a cuss,” was the stout reply. “We're hauling out. None of that thieving outfit can overtake us even if they could know what I've said.”
“I'm no lover of thieves,” said Reese. “No chance of my repeating anything you say. What's the name of the place?”
“Hootsville, after old man Hoot. He 'n' his two boys are rare hellions. Always several more of the same breed hanging 'round there.”
“Horsethieves, eh?”
“Yes. And whisky smugglers to the Injuns, and several other things,” said Hiram.
“And not a bit above cutting your weazen just for the prime guns you carry,” added the second man.
“I can steer clear of them by going southwest?” asked Reese.
“Yes, if you keep head on for that summit with the deep dent in it you'll pass them within couple of miles. But it'll be safer to strike due south and then skirt along the foothills to the west. That top I'm pointing at is Notch Mountain.”
Reese glanced at the sun and bolted his dinner and buckled on his belt. He noticed Hiram leaned lazily back and flung out an arm so the hand rested on a rifle. He told them, “I thank you for your kidness in feeding me and advising me.” As he mounted his horse he tossed twenty dollars in gold on the grass. The men shouted for him to take back his money, but he waved his hand and rode on. Hiram stood and gazed after him and ruefully told his companion;
“The blamed young fool can't see straight. Way he's aiming now will fetch him smack into Hootsville, and old Hoot 'n' his younkers will gather him in and add another hoss to their herd.”
THE main building in Hootsville was a long cabin, which offered drink, gambling and food to wayfarers. Old man Hoot, tall and angular, had discarded his long coat and was sitting at a table playing solitaire, when he caught the rattle of galloping hoofs. He glanced swiftly around the room to see who was missing. Abner, his older son, was shaking dice with Kigel and Sas'fras at the bar. Lige Hoot, the younger son, was playing euchre with a yellow-haired young woman at the end of the room.
The old man called out, “See if that's Ben?”
“No—stranger,” barked Kigel.
Hoot put on his long, black coat and buttoned it. The coat had openings slashed in the sides which permitted easy access to knife and revolver.
Abner's thin, wide mouth twisted in a grin as he told his companions, “Old man's putting on his ceremony coat. A wedding, or a funeral?”
“Not wedding,” said Kigel, after glancing from the window. “Young feller on a prime horse.”
“Mebbe it's a damn Mormon, come up to git the girl back,” said Sas'fras as his gaze lingered on the woman with the yellow hair.
Old Hoot muttered, “I was wishin' it was that Hiram and his friend. But they ain't foolish enough to come back.”
“It's only one man, pap.”
Outside a clear voice saluted the saloon by lustily singing;
“When good King Arthur ruled this land
He was a goodly King,
He stole three bags of barley meal
To make a bag of pudding.”
“Musical cuss,” said Rigef. “Old man'll make him sing through his nose when he comes to pay for his dinner.”
“Grub comes high out here,” snickered Sas'fras.
Hoot senior softly snapped his fingers. The dice game was resumed. The old man sat on the edge of the table and idly swung a booted leg. The stranger entered and blinked his eyes to get rid of the sun glare.
“Well, now you're here, what'n hell you want?” harshly spoke up Hoot senior.
Reese faced him and genially cried, “What should I want but good liquor, food, and a game of cards.” Then he noticed the girl and swept off his hat and bowed low. Young Lige said something in an undertone and the woman left the room. Lige then came forward walking stiff-legged. Halting close to Reese he surveyed him from head to heel. He could not conceal a gleam of envy as he observed the store clothing, the boots of French calf and the two big guns. He sneeringly greeted:
“You're some sweet-smellin' dandy, mister.”
“That's scarcely the way to talk to me, my lad, a friendless stranger,” said Reese gently. “I see a bar. I smell food cooking in back somewhere. I see provision for games of chance. I have ample means for paying my way. I can afford to lose quite a bit of gold at any game you men fancy you know something about. So don't get wolfish around the shoulders, young man.” Turning to old Hoot he said, “Boys are much forwarder than when you and I were young.”
With a shrill scream young Hoot sprang at him, his hands extended, his fingers hooked for gouging. The onlookers caught a flash of Reese's slim figure ducking, and they heard the plank of the blow that caught his assailant on the chin and straightened him out in mid-air and dropped him insensible. But none saw the blow start. Young Hoot had collapsed like a half-filled bag of meal before the spectators could perceive what had happened. Reese turned and told the old man:
“He'll be all right in a minute. Just throw some water on his head, or leave him to come around natural. Now while he's resting suppose we all have a drink.”
Whatever rage was boiling over in the old man's mind was quenched for the time by the heavy bag of dust tossed carelessly on the bar. Abner Hoot glanced at his father for instructions.
“Weigh out a round of drinks, you fool!” harshly ordered Hoot. “Sas'fras, throw some water in the kid's face ... Pretty way to treat comp'ny! Tryin' to claw 'em the minute they enter our home ... You're welcome, mister. What handle do you want to go by?”
“Call me Destiny,” gravely said Reese.
“Queer handle,” mused Hoot. “What does it mean? Or is it a fambly name like Smith 'n' Jones?”
“Family name. Means something that's bound to happen. Ah! the lad is stirring. I pulled my punch so's not to hurt him.”
Kigel boiled over. He dashed his slouch hat on the bar and cried, “Damme! I won't let any galoot crow in that low-down way. Lige wasn't looking for a trick.”
“Well, you're looking. How'll you have it?” harshly challenged Reese.
“Kigel!” roared old Hoot's rasping voice. Kigel hesitated, then met the fierce gaze and picked up his hat and stared sullenly at the bag on the bar. Hoot turned to Reese and amiably remarked, “You're a stout cuss if you can always act like vou talk. Just what's your game?”
“Gambling, speculating in horses, buying and selling placers. I never won at digging gold.”
Lige opened his eyes and stared foolishly around him. Not until his gaze rested on the boots of French calf did he remember. With a wildcat's screech he came to his feet, swaying dizzily for a moment, and then lurched forward to renew his assault on Reese. The old man caught him from the front of his woolen shirt and with one swing of his long arm swept him off his feet and banged him against the wall.
“You, Lige Hoot,” he muttered. “You behave. When I'm dead 'n' gone you 'n' Abner can run this place. And you'll make a mess of it. This man is buying liquor for all of us, and with a big bag of dust. You hear me?”
The fire died from Lige's eyes under the flaming gaze of his father. He sullenly surrendered, “All right this time. But folks can't bang me 'round when I ain't looking without payin' for it.”
“Mind your manners, or I'll break your neck. Take your liquor 'n' keep shet.” And with another swing of his arm old Hoot fairly flung his son up to the bar.
“You done that by some damn trick,” Lige told Reese.
“Of course. You should learn it. Simple, direct, and it fetches home the bacon,” said Reese. “Well, men, if we're all friendly again let's liquor and then I'll eat. After that if any feels lucky at cards I'll sit in.”
“A round of bracers 'n' some good food,” mumbled old Hoot. “Then we'll try you at cards. Or if you want a bank game we have faro and monte.”
“All are good, but poker's the game,” Reese answered. “When I see men breaking their backs, digging gold, it makes me laugh. I always know that most of them are working for me.” He laughed boisterously, and then threw back his head and in a mellow voice sang more about King Arthur and the larceny of the barley meal.
OLD Hoot was puzzled. He believed he knew, by repute at least, all the badmen in the territory, but he had never heard of one by the name of Destiny. If the stranger with the queer name was running a bluff he would call it in due time. The usual expedient of securing a wayfarer's gold was to get him drunk and take it, or have one of the men follow him when he departed. Either method usually secured the gold. And there had been those stubborn cases who entered the saloon and were never seen to leave it. Hoot stared tentatively at Reese while the latter was singing, and then glanced through the side window where transients had found their last bed under the sod. Suddenly his gaunt face underwent a radical change of expression. His broad mouth opened in a silent, cavernous laugh. He clapped a big hand on Reese's shoulder and cried:
“I like your style, mister. I like a man who believes in himself, and who backs his luck way across the board. You're more'n welcome. We'll have some high old times. If you can best us at cards we'll hustle 'round 'n' scrape together some more dust. If you lose we'll part good friends.”
Reese heartily subscribed to this amiable sentiment. Sas'fras smothered a laugh and winked at Abner. Hoot heartily urged, “Now come into the eating room 'n' have some hot vittels. I know you must be hungry.”
Reese accompanied him to a rear room and was given a seat at a long table. Hoot stepped to the door of the cook-room and bellowed, “Meat 'n' bread fixin's for one pilgrim. Dish up!” Returning to the table he stood and talked with Reese until a French-Indian girl brought in a platter of meat and coarse bread. After Hoot had clattered back to the barroom, closing the door behind him, Reese walked to a window and looked out at the several cabins. Off in the southwest he saw a mounted man and a burro approaching.
He took his place at the table, one facing the barroom door this time. The breed nodded approval and glanced stealthily at the doors and windows. Then she leaned forward and drew her fingers across her throat and in pantomime warned him to flee. She hurried away even before he could bow his appreciation. Reese wondered how many others she had warned in a similar manner, and how many had accepted her advice. He had indulged in braggadocio as he believed the Hoots would accept a man at his own appraisal. But he did not enjoy the situation. He knew he was in a nest of mankillers, who would strike from behind. He lacked none in courage but he had sense enough to feel afraid of such big odds. He ate slowly and between mouthfuls watched the barroom door and the windows on his right. He was afraid, and yet he purposed remaining until he got a definite clue.
He knew when the horseman came up as Hoot greeted him from the doorway. The newcomer replied and there was something familiar in his voice. Reese rose and craned his neck. He could glimpse the horse and the burro. The man was not in his line of vision. With two swift strides he was beside the window and slyly peering out. Bloover was packing supplies on the steps. Lige Hoot was urging him to come inside and have a drink. Bloover grinned longingly, but refused, saying:
“Hankerin' to but don't dast. But I'll have plenty of drink at the end of my trip. Got to start back at once. Have to come here again inside a week.”
“A long, lonely trip,” spoke up old man Hoot. “Wouldn't you like to have one of my boys ride part way with you?”
“Hankerin' for comp'ny, but Cap'n Cram wouldn't like it. He might come to meet me. Cap'n 's fussy.”
“Cap'n Cram, is it?” mused Hoot. “He's one who wants orders followed. A prime feller is Cram. You tell him Cap'n Hoot would like to have a talk with him.”
“He's dodgin' comp'ny just now. Not gunnin' for it. There's the money 'n' I'll say good day.” Reese saw him mount and start toward the southwest with the burro patiently plodding along behind him. He had barely returned to the table when Hoot entered and announced the boys were rarin' to go at cards. Reese said he was ready, and added, “You have some trade out here? I heard a man buying something.”
“Fair to middlin'. But mostly in hosses. Feller just here comes from the Big Hole Mountains. Only greenhorns would look for gold there. Placers there in Notch Gulch won't show them one color to a pan. Only gold ever taken out of that gulch was when the Hudson Bay trader used to make a summer trade there with the Injuns when I was a boy. He was killed. Injuns won't go near it now. Say it's a medicine place. Bad medicine at that ... Now what do you say?”
Reese saw the men at the table and replied, “Cards? I'm in fine fettle for a stiff game. Let's be at it.”
With much gusto he took his place with the three Hoots and Kigel and Sas'fras, with the old man acting as banker. After a few hands he decided none of his opponents were up to the Butte standard of poker and had depended on bullying tactics. He refused to be bullied, and outbet and outbluffed the five of them without much effort. Nor did he fail to appreciate the possibility of their being complacent because they believed they would take his gold away from him by other methods. He planned to depart while the sun was high, and at the end of two hours, when he was some seven hundred dollars ahead, he abruptly announced he had had enough and requested Hoot to cash his chips.
The old man was disgruntled and hesitated and suggested he let his winnings remain in the bank until evening, when they would play again.
“I'll carry my own cash until then,” he quietly insisted.
Hoot leaned back and thrust his right hand through a slit in his coat, and said, “I'm sure you'll feel better if you let your winning lay in the bank till the next game.”
“Next games never interest me ... Wonder if any of you have a few drops of oil?” And his hand brought one of Tiger Logan's guns above the table. He examined it and canted his head to listen to the click-click as he half cocked it and turned the loaded cylinders. “Maybe it isn't so dry as I'd thought,” he added.
“Put that damn thing away!” roared Hoot. “Don't aim it at me!”
“You're mighty nervous. Not used to firearms? My cash, please.” And he stressed the demand by gently rapping the long barrel on the edge of the table.
There was a general withdrawal with the exception of Hoot, who counted out the winnings. As he started to push them across the board his eyes dilated, and Reese anticipated his attempt to knock the gun barrel aside by lowering the weapon below the table. Hoot slumped back and swung his head to observe how his followers were posted. All were helpless so long as he was at the table. He made to get up, and the .45 rose above the table, and Reese said:
“Just a minute, Mr. Hoot. I must have a word aside with you.” He filled a bag with his winnings and stuffed the remaining into a pocket and with his gun thrust through his belt he linked his left arm through Hoot's right and led him to he door.
“Hi! What you up to? Thought you wanted to talk?” cried Hoot, beginning to hold back.
“I want your advice on a horse. And keep your hands at your side. Rest of you folks aren't wanted.”
“By God! A holdup! Holding up Hootsville!” yelled young Lige, and he started to draw a gun.
“You're going to be dead alongside of your pap in another two seconds,” warned Reese as he urged the old man through the door and toward the corner of the building. There was a rush for the windows, but Reese had his living shield.
“Shoot!” cried Kigel at a window.
“Hold your fire, you fools!” bellowed Hoot. “This little rinktum ain't played out yet.”
Reese unhitched his horse. Hoot stepped back a pace and roared, “Now climb into that saddle 'n' be off!”
Reese, with a hand on his gun, relieved his prisoner of knife and gun, and commanded, “You'll walk along with me for a bit. I've left some money on the table for my dinner. We're square ... You men in the house keep back. Now, Mr. Hoot, step out.”
Grinding his teeth and groaning with rage Hoot stalked ahead, the horse walking at their heels. Kigel wanted to shoot, but Abner would not run the risk. He did not believe even a mortal wound could stop Reese from pulling the trigger. The men did, however, leave the house and stood grouped before the door. It was young Lige who suggested they be ready to ride the stranger down once Hoot was released. The moment they scattered, Reese knew what they purposed, but he did not believe they would attack until the head of the clan was freed.
FOR a quarter of a mile Reese forced his captive to accompany him. Then he halted. A horse's head showed at the end of a cabin, but none of the men were in sight. He told Hoot, “If a shot's fired while you're in range I'll drill you.”
“Can I go back?” panted Hoot.
Reese answered him by springing into the saddle and galloping away. Hoot ran back to get weapons and screamed for his men to ride after the stranger. The four horsemen erupted from behind the cabins and scattered to attack from four different points. Reese glanced back and watched them string out on a wide front and observed each was superbly mounted.
As it was not his desire to overtake Bloover, or to lead them to Cram's hiding place, Reese swerved to the east and held to a steady pace until Kigel drew up within range and commenced firing. Reining in Reese fired twice, the second shot knocking Kigel from the saddle. Then he was off again, with Abner Hoot taking the lead. Old man Hoot commenced firing from the saloon window, and by the detonation and the vicious whir of the lead Reese knew he was using a rifle. He shifted his course to the south so as to bring Abner between him and the saloon. Sas'fras was scurrying south on his right, and young Hoot was taking the same course on his left. They believed they had him in a pocket and began yelling like Indians.
Reese began to worry. It was the height of irony did these border wolves stop him from pursuing a much more dangerous errand. He wheeled and galloped straight for Abner, who turned to the west. Coming to a plunging halt Reese fired at the horse and scored a hit. The animal gave a convulsive leap and hurled his rider to the ground, where he remained insensible. Lige Hoot was tearing in after Reese, and Sas'fras had turned to take him on the flank. Riding to meet young Hoot he saw Sas'fras wheel to keep abreast of him. He and Lige passed each other at a distance of fifty feet. They fired almost together. Reese's hat jumped. Young Hoot fell on the neck of his horse and dropped his gun. Wheeling to deal with Sas'fras Reese saw him streaking away to the east. As he rode he looked back and saw the tall, angular figure of the old man following him on foot and occasionally trying for a lucky shot with the rifle.
Reese rode south until well within the broken country, when he turned and made for the snow-capped peaks of the Bitter Root Range. His reaction was disagreeable. There was no elation, and he even hoped he had not mortally wounded young Lige, wolf that he was. All were scoundrels, but they were strangers to him. He had not had time to build up personal resentment. His hatred for the Cram outfit was deadly, not because they had planned to cheat him and kill him, if the latter were necessary, but he hated them for the horrible fate they were willing to force upon the Logan girl.
An hour passed with his horse picking his own gait, and he was thinking of making camp when his attention was attracted by several large birds rising on heavy wings and lazily flapping into the pines. As he neared the spot where the scavengers had taken flight his horse snorted and shied violently to avoid stepping on a dead man. Reese stared down on the upturned face. It was Bloover. He had been shot through the head.
“You bloody devil!” Reese apostrophized the slayer. “You're whittling them down with a vengeance. But how will you and Kidd split the pot?”
CHAPTER VI
Kidd Sees Ghosts
BY the sheerest chance he had come upon the dead man, the second to mark Cram's flight with the treasure. A slight deviation from his course after his fight with the Hootsville gang would have led him to cut into the Notch Gulch trail farther west. That night as he made a dark camp his mind was much on Annie Logan's prophecy of a curse following Plummer's gold. He slept poorly, hearing wolves howling when awake, and in a dream seeing Henry Plummer standing by his side and staring down upon him through spectral eyes, and grinning sardonically.
At sunrise he searched the ground and found where a horse and burro had entered the trail, coming from the northeast. He also found the rock behind which the murderer had waited, and remnants of a lunch he had eaten. He vividly visualized the scene; the coming of Bloover with the supplies, the shot from the boulder. The cold-bloodedness of the crime, the neglect to bury the body, appalled him. He fashioned a rude grave between boulders and hid the sorry remains with debris. He climbed a tree and studied the broken ground ahead. When he resumed his journey he walked ahead of his horse. He was afoot when he came to a low, bare ridge, studded with boulders. He scarcely had shown his head above the ridge when a gun roared and he stumbled and fell on his side.
“By God, I nailed him! The lyin', cowardly sneak!” shouted Cram. “Now we can sleep in peace. I told you I saw something in that pine back there. You said it was a bear.”
Doctor Kidd emerged from behind a rock and joined Cram. He walked slowly, and warily watched the motionless heap on the ridge. “Feel sure you fetched him, Cap'n?” he asked.
“What's the matter with your eyes? There he is. Can't you see where I bored him through the chest?”
Kidd shaded his eyes with his hand and said:
“Reckon you're right. Seems like I can see where he was hit. Mighty clean, quick shooting. Reckon I'll take a shot. Always hankered to pot him.”
He threw up bis revolver and fired.
The lead struck close, and Reese could feel the impact of sand and pebbles driven against his body. It happened so quickly he did not have time to betray himself by any motion.
“Satisfied now that I'm the high cockalorum?” jeered Cram.
“Yes. And never did I see such quick, straight shooting, Cap'n. You handled that big buffalo gun as if it was a derringer. He was barely in sight when you bagged him. I couldn't tell until after he fell if it was him, or one of the Hootsville outfit. I'm might glad it is him instead of one of them. They're just cheap dogs, dangerous only if they can get behind you. This man was poison.”
“Better go 'n' fetch his guns,” said Cram. “Cinders said he was carrying the Tiger's old irons.”
Kidd darted a glance at the heavy rifle in his companion's hands, and said: “The guns didn't save his pelt, nor the Tiger's. Bad luck on them, I reckon. Besides, we've got guns enough. Just how far are we from the gulch? Hate to think of that stuff being left there unguarded.”
“Couple of miles. Stuff's as safe as if it was in the moon. No gold there except ours. I was fearin' the Hootsville crowd would tag along after Bloover. Well, we can be going back.”
They turned and walked away, keeping side by side. Reese maintained his position. Suddenly both wheeled about and stared back at him. Cram threw up the big gun and fired, and Reese heard the lead shrieking close to his head.
“I hit him ag'in!” yelled Cram. Then he admitted, “That feller got on my nerves. A little more 'n' I'd been scared of him. Now I can sleep in peace.”
“Yes, Cap'n,” said Kidd. “As you've remarked once before, you can sleep in peace.” And he thrust the muzzle of his gun against Cram's side and fired. With a scream that carried a great distance Cram tried to use the long rifle as a club. Kidd leaped back, his white teeth showing through his snarling lips, and fired twice. Cram crumpled to the ground.
Panting heavily Kidd told the dead man, “You'd cold-deck me, would you? Wanted me to go and fetch Tiger Logan's guns, eh? Oh, yes. Fine! Well, if you meet Cinders, or Bloover, you can tell them who sent you along, and that the doctor wins the pot."
He picked up the rifle and hurled it among the rocks. Then he dragged Cram's body one side and covered it with small fragments of rock. For one capable of such a cold-blooded crime he appeared to be ill at ease. Several times he wheeled about quickly, as if fearing someone stood behind him. Finally he passed around an enormous boulder.
Reese felt relief and regret. He was thankful Kidd had not practiced on him with the buffalo gun. He was sorry the murderer had not advanced, armed only with a revolver. Not until after he had crawled back to his horse did his nervous tension let down. Scenes of violence were all too common in the gold camps, and he was used to rough men and rough ways. But there was something vastly different between bis running fight with the Hoot's gang and the cold-blooded butchery of Cinders and Bloover, and even Cram. The prophecy had proven true thus far, and Reese began to fear the bandit's gold.
IT WAS early morning of the third day that Reese had camped at the mouth of the gulch, hoping that Kidd would come forth. This waiting had worn his nerves raw. Also, there was the sudden fear that Kidd had found a trail over the mountains and had descended into the Beaver Head country.
“Why copy them and practice stealth?” he muttered. “I'll start back for Silver Bow creek by midday, or stay here for all time.”
Forty eight hours of watching, relieved by spasmodic bits of sleep, and nearly twenty four hours of fasting, had left him a bit light-headed. He shifted his horse to a fresh patch of grazing. He oiled and reloaded Tiger Logan's guns. Then, filled with a savage insistence to have done with manhunting, he made for the mouth of the gulch.
Notch Mountain loomed at its head. A stream of ice-cold water chattered among the rocks under the western wall. He kept to the bank of the stream as he was consumed with an unquenchable thirst. Crawling and dodging among the boulders, often wading in the icy water, he worked his way toward a dilapidated log cabin, once a trading post. He practiced stealth while believing he had been seen, that he had glimpsed Kidd's face at a window. He advanced with the expectation of beholding Kidd peering from behind every boulder and tree. He knew this was not rational thinking and he endeavored to fight against it. He told himself his errand was favored by the early hour, that Kidd would be asleep. Outside the gulch, he knew, the sun was flooding the world. In the long slot between towering walls the shadows were deep, and when he glanced upward he could see the stars. And yet the visibility was good enough for even a long pistol shot. Physically he was steady as a rock.
He had covered half the distance to the cabin before he realized no smoke was rising from the old chimney. This meant one of two things: Dr. Kidd had managed to cross the range, or was still sleeping. In either event speed, not caution, was in order. He ceased his scouting tactics and started to run for the closed door. He was within a few rods of the cabin when a spurt of flame from a sashless window sent him diving behind a boulder.
The report reechoed from wall to wall, and the door swung open and to Reese's amazement Doctor Kidd stepped forth with a gun in each hand.
“Come out into the open, damn you!” shouted Kidd. “Be you Cram, or Cinders, Bloover, or Reese, come into the open.”
Reese grinned ferociously as he read hysteria, or greater madness in the man's wild outcries. So Kidd had suffered from his nerves during his period of isolation. He was wearing his shirt and trousers and his hair was disheveled. His face was thin and marked by deep lines. There was nothing of the dandy in his appearance now. He kept jerking his head from side to side as if expecting to behold his Nemesis appearing from behind any cover.
“No damn ghost can scare Doctor Kidd,” he shouted. “He never knuckled down to Plummer and he won't knuckle to his ghost.”
The walls of the gulch rumbled back his words. Suddenly he wheeled and peered suspiciously into the cabin. Reese advanced to another boulder.
Facing about Kidd yelled, “Come and get it! What are you scared of? Lead can't hurt you. Come and hunt for it!” He laughed wildly and boasted, “I'm the only man on earth who knows where it's hid. Show yourself out there! I saw you. Is it you, Cap'n Cram? You did for Bloover, you did for Cinders, you did for Reese. I saved my powder and did for you.” Then he wheeled as the burros filed by the cabin, making for better grazing outside.
The man appeared to be going mad. Reese did not relish the thought. He had come to shoot it out with Doctor Kidd, not with a crazy man incapable, perhaps, of defending himself.
He rose from behind the rock and called out, “All right. I'm coming.”
“Reese!” shouted Kidd, and he laughed as if highly amused, and with amazing celerity sent two bullets which barely missed. Reese advanced. Kidd ceased laughing and brought down a gun. Reese leaped to one side as the gun roared. With a shout Kidd suddenly ran toward him, firing as he came. Reese fired and saw him man lurch violently; yet he kept coming and shooting. Reese whirled half around under the impact of the smashing blow on his shoulder and dropped his left hand gun. Kidd screamed in triumph and came to a halt and got a grip on himself and slowly brought down the gun. Reese fired twice and Kidd plunged forward, discharging his weapon into the ground close to his feet. He endeavored to raise the gun again, and collapsed.
Reese dizzily walked to him and saw he had hit him three times. He made his way into the cabin and found a jug of whisky. He drank a mouthful and poured much over his wounded shoulder. No gold was in the cabin. From a window opening onto the stream he looked down into a whirlpool of black water. A bucket with a rope attached revealed how water could be procured without the tenant leaving the cabin. Reese knew the gold was in the whirlpool.
“Good place for it” His own voice startled him. Carrying the jug he staggered from the cabin, gained the stream and poured out the liquor. Then he filled the jug with water. He came to his horse without knowing how he found him.
Two days later men from Deer Lodge City picked up a man who was reeling in the saddle and talking incoherently. They did not learn his name until they had nursed him back to reason. He told them nothing about the gold. The curse upon it was no respecter of persons, and they had been kind to him. He had had a running fight with some horsethieves, he explained.
“You must 'a' shot most mortal straight,” one of his benefactors told him. “It was the Hootsville gang. You certainly busted up that outfit. You did all decent folks a rare service. Now you keep quiet and rest till you're all mended.”
Reese walked about to test his strength. He was weak, but he believed he was able to ride. “I had two guns,” he said.
“Not when we found you. Now drink some more of this meat broth and sleep.”
He drank the broth greedily, and told them, “I'll never forget your kindness. I must ride at once for Silver Bow City. It would be cruelty to keep me here.”
WHEN near the Logan cabin he saw her working in a flower bed. He turned in and was quite close before she glanced up and saw him. She ran to help him dismount. She stared at his haggard face and moaned, “Oh, they have treated you cruelly!”
He patted her slim shoulder to still her sobbing, and told her, “They'll treat no other man cruelly. They've gone for good with Plummer's gold. It's finished. I know where it is, but I'll not tell even you. A curse was on it. They killed each other off until only Kidd and I were left. We shot it out. I was hit, but am getting better fast. I lost your father's guns ... Don't cry ... I'm going into town and get work. Then I'll come back and talk with you, if I'll be welcome.”
“Oh, my dear, my dear! You are so welcome!” she tearfully told him.
Copyright, 1928, by Hugh Pendexter
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was published before January 1, 1929.
The longest-living author of this work died in 1945, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 78 years or less. This work may be in the public domain in countries and areas with longer native copyright terms that apply the rule of the shorter term to foreign works.
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