The Buckaroo of Blue Wells/Chapter 9

HE Taylor hearing was more or less of a farce, but it left Apostle Paul, Buck and Peeler, the half-breed, high and dry in the Blue Wells jail until the next term of court. Old Judge Parkridge, near-sighted, more than slightly deaf, a mummified old jurist, set their bail at one thousand dollars cash, each—bail which no one would furnish.

There was no evidence against them, except the fact that they had the dog, and that they could not prove that they had spent the night on Yellow Horn Mesa. So they were formally charged with train robbery and held until the next session of court, which would not be held for three weeks.

Apostle Paul Taylor cursed the judge, who could not hear it, and went back to the jail, followed by Buck and Peeler. Marion was broken-hearted, but did not show it. She sat down in the sheriff’s office and tried to reason out just what to do. The Double Bar 8 could not afford to hire men, and she could not do the work alone.

The sheriff did not try to solace her. He was tongue-tied in her presence. Then Tex Alden showed up. He had not been at the hearing, but had been told all about it.

“That’s sure tough, Marion,” he told her. “I’ll tell yuh what I’ll do—I’ll send some of my men down to run the ranch for yuh, and it won’t cost yuh a cent.”

“No, thank you, Mr. Alden.”

Tex colored quickly. It was the first time she had ever called him “Mr. Alden.”

“Why, what’s the matter?” he asked quickly. “What have I done?”

“You know what you did,” she retorted. “Please don’t bother yourself about my affairs.”

Tex stared at her wonderingly.

“Well, for gosh sake!” he blurted. “Hm-m-m-m! Whatsa matter now?”

But Marion turned away from him and stared out through one of the dirty windows. Tex whistled softly and walked outside. He stopped, turned, as if to go back, but changed his mind and went on up the street, whistling unmusically between his teeth, his brow furrowed.

Lee Barnhardt, the lawyer, was coming from his office, and met Tex in front of the general store.

“Wasn’t that a of a verdict, Tex?” he asked.

“Verdict? Oh, yeah.” Tex looked thoughtfully at the lean-faced attorney. “I’m wonderin’ who’ll run the Double Bar 8 until after the trial, Lee?”

“I don’t know; never thought about it, Tex. Say, did you hear about that AK tenderfoot getting shot last night?”

“Legg?”

“Yes. Some one shot him last night, almost in front of the hotel.”

“Yea-a-ah? Kill him?”

“No,” Barnhardt laughed. “Skull was too hard, I guess. He had been standing there, talking with Marion Taylor, and just after she went into the hotel, some one shot him. But he was able to ride back to the AK; so I guess he’s all right.”

Tex took a deep breath and looked back toward the sheriff’s office. Marion was coming up the street. He turned to Barnhardt.

“I hadn’t heard about it, Lee. I left just after the trainmen had identified the dog.”

Tex turned on his heel and went across the street, disappearing in the Oasis saloon.

Marion joined Barnhardt and they walked to his office. The girl did not like Barnhardt, but her father had engaged him to handle their defense. Hashknife and Sleepy had talked with several of the cowboys, and it was their opinion that none of the cattle outfits would put on extra men until the round-up.

Hashknife went to the sheriff’s office and had a talk with Scotty Olson. Hashknife had heard the cowboys talking about the Double Bar 8, and the fact that there was no one, except the girl, to run the ranch. Hashknife explained to the sheriff that he and Sleepy would be willing to run the Double Bar 8, at least until the round-up started, and without wages.

“What’s the idea?” queried Scotty. It looked fishy to him.

“Merely helpin’ out,” smiled Hashknife. “It’ll save us a hotel bill, and we might as well be workin’ as settin’ around a saloon.”

Scotty smoothed his mustaches and admitted that it would be a great help to the Taylor family.

“C’mon in and meet Apostle Paul,” suggested the sheriff.

Hashknife followed him to the cells and was introduced to Marion’s father, who scrutinized Hashknife closely, when the sheriff explained what Hartley and his partner were willing to do.

“I thought mebbe Tex Alden would help us out,” said the old man.

“Yuh can hang that idea up in the smoke-house,” said the sheriff. “Tex met yore daughter a while ago, and she kinda snubbed him up real short, Paul.”

“Yea-a-ah? Well, I’ll be ! See if yuh can get holt of her, Scotty.”

The sheriff left Hashknife with Taylor, while he found Marion. The old man had little to say to Hashknife, and the conversation dragged heavily until the sheriff brought her in and introduced her to Hashknife.

“Did Tex offer to help us out?” asked Taylor.

Marion nodded quickly.

“He did; and I refused his offer. And he knows why I refused it, Dad.”

“Gosh a’mighty—why?”

“I can’t tell you now.”

“Uh-huh. Well, I jist wanted to know if he did. Mr. Hartley and his pardner offer to help yuh run the ranch at least until the round-up starts, and it shore looks generous—comin’ from strangers.”

“It certainly is generous!” exclaimed Marion. “Dad, I think I can get Nanah to stay with me.”

“That’ll be fine. I’m much obliged to yuh, Hartley, and I'll not be forgettin’ this favor. We’re shore up agin’ a hard deal. How soon can yuh go out to the ranch?”

“I broke a State record on saddlin’ a bronc once,” grinned Hashknife. “Our animals are in the livery-stable, and I know Sleepy is plumb willin’ to give up that bed at the hotel.”

“Then we’ll all ride out together,” said Marion. “My horse is there too.”

Hashknife found Sleepy at Moon’s store and introduced him to Marion. Lee Barnhardt was there, and heard Hashknife explain to Sleepy that they were going to run the Double Bar 8. The lean-necked lawyer’s brows elevated momentarily, and he wondered why Tex Alden hadn’t handled that end of the deal.

Sleepy went with Marion to get the horses, while Hashknife secured paper and envelopes from Moon, and wrote a letter. Lee Barnhardt sat on a counter across the room, and wondered who this tall cowboy might be. Lee did not believe in philanthropy, and he wondered just why these two cowboys should offer to work the Double Bar 8 for nothing. He watched Hashknife, who hunched over the counter, taking much time over the composition of his letter.

Lee moved over to that counter and bought some tobacco he did not need. Hashknife sealed the letter and began directing the envelope. Lee walked slowly past him, getting a flash of the address on the letter, which was directed to Leesom & Brand, Attorneys at Law, Chicago.

If Lee Barnhardt expected to find any clue to Hashknife’s identity, he could hardly find it in the address of a letter, but he smiled queerly as he walked to his office and sat down, twiddling his thumbs.

But it was not a pleasant smile, and his head sunk into his collar until the wattles of his wry-neck protruded. For about ten minutes he sat thus, totally absorbed in his own thoughts, which were finally broken by the entrance of Tex Alden, who had been depleting the stock of the Oasis saloon until he fairly reeked with alcoholic fumes.

“What do you know about them two fellers goin’ out to the Taylor ranch?” he demanded of Barnhardt.

“Eh?” Lee looked up quickly. “Oh, yes. What about ’em?”

“That’s what I want to know, by !”

“You’re sore about something, ain’t you, Tex?”

“Yo’re right I am! Who authorized them two punchers to run that place?”

“Well, I didn’t. It wasn’t any of my business. Tex, you don’t need to get drunk and come roaring into my office. I never sent them out there. It seems to me that Miss Taylor was perfectly willing to have them go out there. And they talked with old Apostle Paul. Don’t hop me; hop them.”

“Hop, !” Tex leaned on the desk and glared at Barnhardt.

“Go to it, Tex. Hop anything you want to, but leave me out. Did you offer to run the ranch for her?”

“I did, it!”

Lee smiled at Tex’s flushed face.

“What did she say?”

“None of yore business!”

“Mm-m-m-m! Must have been a good reason.”

“Who are these strange punchers?”

Lee shook his head.

“How would I know? They’re going to run the Double Bar 8 for nothing. Rather charitable for a pair of strangers, don’t you think, Tex?”

“Too charitable.”

“That’s my opinion. But I don’t know a thing against ’em.”

“Know anythin’ for ’em?” bluntly.

“Not a thing, Tex. Marion is a mighty pretty girl, and—”

“Drop that!” snapped Tex angrily. “Leave her out of it.”

“Oh, all right. But she didn’t talk as though she hated either of them. I heard her talking to them in Moon’s store a while ago.”

Tex’s black eyes snapped angrily.

“I want to know a few things,” he said evenly. “I’m no fool!”

“Well, you’ll not find out anything from me, because I don’t know anything to tell you, Tex. I’m no judge of human nature, but I’d go easy with those two men. I don’t think you can scare ’em. They’ve probably got a reason for running the Taylor ranch—for nothing.”

“They can’t scare me, by !”

“They probably won’t try,” smiled Barnhardt. “Any way, they have no reason for trying to scare you. Tex, does their names mean anything to you?”

“Their names? Hartley and Stevens? Not a thing.”

“Ask Plenty Goode about it?”

“What would he know about ’em, Lee?”

“Do you remember one night out at the X Bar 6, just after Goode had hired out to you, and I was there? We were talking about rustlers and horse-thieves, and Goode told us some of the things that happened in the Modoc country. He lived at Black Wells, I believe. Don’t you remember the names now, Tex?”

“Lee, I believe yo’re right. What was it he called the tall one?”

“Hashknife.”

“That was it! But are these the same men, Lee?”

“I heard the tall one called by that name a while ago.”

“Huh! What do yuh reckon they’re doin’ over here?”

Lee smiled crookedly.

“I dunno, Tex; but it has probably got something to do with the train robbery. And if I had held up that train, I’d sure hate to have these men on my trail. Ask Goode more about them, Tex.”

Tex nodded slowly, thoughtfully. Suddenly he jerked ahead, his eyes boring into Barnhardt.

“Why should I worry about ’em? They can’t hang anythin’ on to me, by !”

“Oh, all right,” sighed Lee. “I know I’d like to have that eight thousand dollars back from you. You better give it to me pretty quick, because I can’t cover it up very long.”

“Why can’t yuh? The round-up count can be long. You handle all the business for the X Bar 6, and you can add those cattle to your report. They don’t know the sale was made.”

“Compound a felony, eh? Turn crook for you, Tex?”

“Turn ! Listen, Lee.” Tex leaned across the desk and poked a finger at Lee’s nose. “Yo’re as crooked as a snake in a cactus patch. You’d double-cross yore best friend for a dollar. Don’t swaller so hard! I mean what I’m tellin’ yuh. You told me about that Santa Rita pay-roll, because you wanted yore cut out of it, and yo’re sore because yuh didn’t get it.

“I haven’t any eight thousand dollars. yuh; I ain’t got no way to get eight thousand dollars. And what’s more, I don’t think I’d give it to yuh if I had it. Now, roll that up in some tar-paper and smoke it. Any old time you start playin’ saint to my sins, yo’re goin’ to get in wrong. Now, think it over.”

Tex surged away from the desk, and went out, scraping his spurs angrily, while Lee Barnhardt looked after him, gloomy-eyed, his lips compressed tightly. Finally he sighed and shook his head.

“Lee, your sins are finding you out,” he said softly. “That poor fool is trying to bluff you—and he almost did.”