absence of any signs of spur straps, glanced at the guns and at the opulent bump in one of the trouser pockets, noted the blue neckerchief, and gazed into the light blue eyes, which were twinkling at his expression of disgust. 'Blast th' sand,' he grunted, spitting again. 'How do you like this town of ourn, outside of th' dust, now that you've seen more of it?'
Johnny smiled broadly. 'Leavin' out a few things besides th' dust—such as bein' too quiet, dead, an' lackin' 'most everythin' a town should have—I'd say it is a purty fair town for its kind. But, bad as it is, it ain't near as bad as that bed I've been sleepin' in. It reminds me of some of th' country I've rid over. It's full of mesas, ridges, canyons, an' valleys, an' all of 'em run th' wrong way. Cuss such a bed. I gave it up after awhile, th' first night, an' played Idaho cards till I was so sleepy I could 'a' slept on a cactus. After that, though, it ain't been so bad. It's all in gettin' used to it, I reckon.'
The sheriff laughed politely. 'Well, I reckon there ain't no bed like a feller's own. Speakin' of th' town bein' dead, that is yore fault; you shouldn't stay so close to th' hotel. Wander around a little an' you'll find it plumb lively. There's Red Frank's an' Kane's—they are high-strung enough for 'most anybody.' The momentary gleam in his eyes was not lost on his companion.
'Red Frank's,' cogitated Johnny. Then he laughed. 'I come near goin' in there, at that. Anyhow, I shore started.'
'Why didn't you go on?' inquired the sheriff, speaking as if from polite, idle curiosity. 'You might 'a' seen some excitement in there.'
'Somebody tried to play a joke on me,' grinned Johnny, 'but I fooled 'em. My boys are shore growed up.'
'How'd yore boys make out?'
'They said they wasn't in there at all. Reckon somebody got excited or drunk if they wasn't tryin' to make a fool out of me. But, come to think of it, I
'They're not as rare as they're goin' to be,' growled the sheriff. 'But it's hard to stop th' shootin'. Takes time.'
Johnny nodded. 'Reckon so. You got a bad crowd of Mexicans here, too, which makes it harder—though they're generally strong on knifeplay. Mexicans, monte, an' mescal are a bad combination.'
'Better tell yore boys to look sharp in Red Frank's. It's a bad place, 'specially if a man's got likker in him. An' they'll steal him blind.'
'Don't have to tell 'em, for I sent 'em home,' replied Johnny, and then he grinned. 'An' there ain't no man livin' can rob 'em, neither, for I wouldn't let 'em draw any of their pay. Bein' broke, they didn't kick up as much of a fuss as they might have. I know how to handle my outfit. Say!' he exclaimed. 'Yo're th' very man I been lookin' for, an' I didn't know it till just this minute. Do you know where I can pick up a herd of a couple or three hundred yearlin's at a fair figger?'
Corwin shook his head. 'You might get a few here an' there, but they ain't worth botherin' about. Anyhow, prices are too high. Better look around on yore way back, up on some of them God-forsaken ranges north of here. But how'll you handle a herd with yore outfit gone?'
His companion grinned and winked knowingly. 'I'll handle it by buyin' subject to delivery. Let somebody else have th' fun of drivin' a lot of crazy-headed yearlin's all that distance. Growed-up steers are bad enough, an' I've had all I want of them for awhile. Well,' he chuckled, 'not havin' no yearlin's to buy, I reckon I've got time to wander around nights. Six months in a ranchhouse is shore confinin'. I need a change. What do you say to a little drink?'
Corwin wiped more sand from his lips. 'It's a little early in th' day for me, but I'm with you. This blasted wind looks like it's gettin' worse,' he growled, scowling as he glanced about.
'It's only addin' to th' liveliness of yore little town,' chuckled Johnny, leading the way.
'We ain't had a sand storm in three years,' boasted the sheriff, hard on his companion's heels. 'I see you know th' way,' he commented.
Johnny set down his empty glass and brought up the roll of bills, peeled the outer from its companions, and tossed it on the bar. 'You got to take somethin' with us, Ed,' he reproved.
Ed shrugged his shoulders, slid the change across the counter, and became thoughtfully busy with the arrangement of the various articles on the backbar.
Corwin treated, talked a few moments, and then departed, his busy brain asking many questions and becoming steadily more puzzled.
Ed mopped the bar without knowing he was doing it and looked at his new friend. 'Where'd you pick
'Meanin'?' queried Johnny, glancing at the windows, where sand was beating at the glass and pushing in through every crack in the woodwork.
'Corwin.'
'Oh, he rambled up an' got talkin'. Reckon I'll go out, sand or no sand, an' see if I can get track of any yearlin's, just to prove that you don't know anythin' about th' cow business.'
'Nobody but a fool would go out into that unless they shore had to,' retorted Ed. 'It's goin' to get worse, shore as shootin'. I know 'em. Lord help anybody that has to go very far through it!'
Johnny opened the door, stuck his head out and ducked back in again. Tying his neckerchief over his mouth and nose, he went to the rear door, closed his eyes, and plunged out into the storm, heading for the stable to look to the comfort of his horse. Pepper rubbed her nozzle against him, accepted the sugar with dignity, and followed his every move with her great, black eyes. He hung a sack over the window and, finding nails on a shelf, secured it against the assaults of the wind.
'There, Pepper Girl—reckon you'll be right snug; but don't you go an' butt it out to see what's goin' on outside. I'm glad this ain't no common shed. Four walls are a heap better than three today.'
'That you, Nelson?' came a voice from the door. Idaho slid in, closed the door behind him with a bang, and dropped his gun into the holster. 'This is shore a reg'lar storm; an' that's shore a reg'lar hoss!' he exclaimed, spitting and blowing. He stepped toward the object of his admiration.
'Look out!' warned Johnny. 'She's likely to brain a stranger. Trained her that way. She'll mebby kill anybody that comes in here; but not hardly while I'm around, I reckon. Teeth an' hoofs—she's a bad one if she don't know you. That's why I try to get her a stable of her own. What was you doin' with th' six-gun?'
'Keepin' th' sand out of it,' lied Idaho. 'Thief-proof, huh?' he chuckled. 'I'm sayin' it's a good thing. Ever been tried?'
'Twice,' answered Johnny. 'She killed th' first one.' He lowered his voice. 'I'm figgerin' Corwin knows about that little fracas of th' other night. Did you tell anybody?'
'Not a word. What about yore outfit?'
'Tight as fresh-water clams, an', besides, they didn't have no chance to. They even left without their breakfast. But I'm dead shore he knows. How did he find it out?'
'Looks like you might be right, after all,' admitted Idaho. 'I kept a lookout that mornin', like I told you, an' th' news of yore outfit leavin' was shore carried, which means that somebody in Kane's gang was plumb interested. How much do you think Corwin knows about it?'
'Don't know; but not as much now as he did before he saw me this mornin',' answered Johnny. 'When he sized me up, his eyes gave him away—just a little flash. But now he may be wonderin' who th' devil it was that got clubbed that night. An' he showed more signs when he saw my money. Say: How much does Ed know?'
'Not a thing,' answered Idaho. 'He's one of my best friends, an' none of my best friends ask me questions when I tell 'em not to. An' now I'm glad I told him not to, because, of course, you don't know anythin' about him. No, sir,' he emphatically declared; 'anythin' that Corwin knows come from th' other side. What you goin' to do?'
'I don't know,' admitted Johnny. 'I got to wrastle that out; but I
'Shore; good as I can. Come on, if yo're ready.'
'Hadn't you better carry yore gun in yore hand, so th' sand won't get in it?' asked Johnny gravely.
Idaho looked at him and laughed. 'Come on—I'm startin',' he said, and he dashed out of the building, Johnny close at his heels.
