Ranch War

“I don’t often go up there. Mulrooney’s a whole heap livelier.”

“How about that telegraph message they got?”

“Hey!” Spatz ejaculated. “It was right after I give it to ’em that they told me about the trouble in Mulrooney. They must’ve knowed you was coming, Kid, and slickered me into helping ’em.”

“Why sure!” snorted Calamity. “I’ll just bet that’s what they did.”

“And me,” the Kid agreed mildly. “Only I’m wondering if ole Jim Hume’ll see it that way.”

“Ji——!” Spatz gasped. “You know Mr. Hume?”

“Well enough,” the Kid replied. “I’m a deputy, special hired by the folks of Mulrooney, so I’m wanting help from you, hombre.”

Spatz gulped, knowing how long he would continue to hold his lucrative position after Wells Fargo’s head trouble-shooter heard of his activities. Even if the Kid was not so well-acquainted as he claimed with Jim Hume, the mayor of Mulrooney knew him. Freddie Woods was noted for the backing she gave to her town’s peace officers. The agent decided that cooperation was his only hope of remaining in employment. So he forced a friendly smile.

“What do you want to know, Kid?”

“When’d they pull out?”

“Be just after noon, I’d say. Right after Tully’d fitted a new shoe on the white feller’s hoss.”

“Do they work for The Outfit?”

“Not any mo——I don’t know what outfit you mean, Kid.”

“Let’s go, Calam,” the Kid growled, sensing that he would learn nothing more from the man.

“Er—Kid,” Spatz said. “I was going to stop them——”

“Sure you was,” the Kid replied. “And I won’t say nothing about it to Jim——Happen you don’t telegraph ahead about that white stallion and red mare coming. I’m not partial to being talked about that way.”

“Or me!” Calamity yelped, realizing what the Kid meant. “Red mare!”

“I wouldn’t do that, Kid!” Spatz whined. “You can count on it.”

Turning their backs on the frightened agent, Calamity and the Kid went by the forge to collect their horses. Neither of them looked around as they rode across the ford. On dry ground once more, the girl let out a snort of disgust.

“Do you reckon that they spun him a windy like he told us?” she asked. “And he believed it?”

“Nope. He thought it up real quick as an excuse for what his bunch’d tried to do.”

“And we’re going to let him get away with it that easy?”

“You want for me to go back ’n’ scalp him, ears ’n’ all?” grinned the Kid. “’Cause apart from that, or burning down the station comes nightfall—which Jim Hume’d reckon was damage to Company property—there ain’t a whole heap’s we can do.”

Giving her companion a cold glare that bounced right off him, Calamity scanned the range ahead.

“They’ve got about a three-hour start on us, Lon. Like you said, we’re making better time than they are.”

“Sure enough are, gal.”

“And one of ’em’s likely got my letter.”

“Likely,” agreed the Kid, glancing up at the sky. “Only we’ll not catch up with ’em today. Won’t’ve reached another way station before dark, neither.”

“So I’ve used the ground for a mattress and the sky for a roof afore now.”

“I ain’t gainsaying it. Only when we make camp, it’ll be without a fire. Just in case them two pelados figure Spatz’s bunch didn’t stop us and come back to do it personal.”

“Would having ’em come back looking for us be so bad?” Calamity asked.

“Not’s long’s we knowed they was likely to do it,” admitted the Kid. “Which’s why I reckon we shouldn’t take chances tonight.”

“You’re the boss,” Calamity conceded.

“Then why’m I leading the pack-hoss?” asked the Kid.

Chapter 8 WE’LL TAKE THEM WHILE THEY SLEEP

OTON RUIZ FELT UNEASY AS HE RODE WITH JOB Hogue into the woods beyond the Silvers’ way station on the Platte River. Turning in his saddle, he looked back at the buildings.

“Hijo de puta!” the Mexican spat out, reining his sabino around.

Wondering what had disturbed his companion, Hogue swung his bay to face in the direction from which they had come. He stared back across the half a mile that separated them from the buildings. At first he could detect nothing to have brought about the other man’s actions. Then he looked beyond the way station and felt relieved by the fact that the trees and undergrowth flanking the trail hid them from the buildings and the ford behind them. Letting out an Anglo-Saxon curse even viler than his companion’s Spanish comment, Hogue turned his eyes to the other’s face. Ruiz was grinning in a faintly mocking manner.

“It appears that your amigo Spatz failed to do what he promised and was paid well for,” the Mexican said dryly.

“Yeah!” Hogue answered. “And the lard-gutted son-of-a-bitch never even telegraphed to let us know they’d got by his men.” Turning his gaze back to the two riders crossing the ford, each leading three horses, he reached for his rifle. “Looks like we’ll have to tend to their needings ourselves.”

Deciding that repeating the reminder that it had been Hogue’s idea to hire Spatz would get them nowhere, Ruiz scowled at the way station. Clearly the attempt had been a failure, which was very annoying. All the previous afternoon they had watched their back trail without seeing a sign of their pursuers. Despite Hogue’s belief that all had gone as planned, Ruiz had insisted on finding a high point when the sun went down. From it they had scoured the land behind them, searching for a sight of a camp-fire to tell them that the girl and her companion were still following on their trail. They had seen nothing and continued their journey to the Platte satisfied that the pursuit had been halted. Not only had they been wrong, but their pursuers had closed the gap between them during the day. Not surprising, considering that the Canary girl and the Texan could alternate between reserve horses, while the two men had but one animal apiece.

Becoming aware of Hogue’s actions, Ruiz inquired, “Do you think it’s wise, amigo?”

“Huh?” the burly man grunted, pausing with the Winchester halfway to his shoulder. “What d’you mean?”

“Is shooting them down here any answer?”

“How d’you mean?”

“Silvers is not one of The Outfit. If murder is done at his place, he will inform the law,” Ruiz explained. “There are peace officers in Lexington to the west and Kearney to the east.”

“Only we ain’t going to either place,” Hogue pointed out, feeling annoyed as always when the Mexican showed signs of smart thinking.

“No. We are going to Hollick City, which also has a telegraph office and sheriff,” Ruiz answered. “A sheriff who knows us and would recognize our descriptions, amigo.”

“Day Leckenby don’t worry me none!” Hogue blustered, but did not complete the raising of the rifle. “He could make fuss for the boss, though.”

“Si,” Ruiz agreed. “Needless fuss, when there is a better way.”

“Such as?”

“Such as riding on——”

“You’re figuring on making a run for Hollick City?” Hogue snorted. “It’s still a good day’s ride and these hosses ain’t getting any fresher, way we’ve been pushing ’em. Comes another point, I don’t cotton to the notion of going back there and telling the boss that the Canary gal’s trailing along with a Texas gun-slick.”

“He’s not Cabrito,” Ruiz said. “I thought that he was, back in Mulrooney, but not any more.”