At that moment Herrick broke into a fit of cursing. Toward the end of a savage tirade Lance caught a few words: “… and I told you last night you couldn’t have any bullets. Understand, you low-down, flat-faced, greasy son of a bustard! I meant what I said! Now you get outa town and stay out….”
Herrick’s fist suddenly shot out and caught the unsuspecting Yaquente alongside the head. The Indian’s huge straw sombrero tumbled off. He staggered back, tripped and fell flat on the sidewalk. Instantly Herrick was on him with tigerish ferocity. Twice the quirt at the man’s wrist cruelly rose and fell, and each time it left a livid streak across the Yaquente’s face. Lance could hear the whistling hiss of the split leather, metal-pointed end of the quirt as it swished through the air. The Indian covered his face with his arms. Herrick shifted his sadistic attack to the man’s body. Crimson streaks appeared on the Yaquente’s thin cotton shirt.
“I’ll teach you, you——” Herrick was snarling as Lance closed in. The quirt was just raising in the air when Lance seized Herrick’s wrist and forced it down.
“Better take it easy, Herrick,” Lance snapped.
Herrick stiffened, twisted his head to see who had stopped him. Then as he recognized Lance a look of extreme malevolence appeared in his bloodshot gaze. He jerked savagely free from Lance’s grasp, fell back three paces. Swiftly his right hand dropped toward his holster.
“Hold it, Herrick!” Lance’s tones were like chilled steel. His six-shooter was already out. “You’re covered!”
Herrick paused with his gun half clear of holster. He tried to keep his eyes steady on Lance’s, but something in Lance’s piercing gaze sent chills coursing down Herrick’s spine. He could see tiny, flickering, angry blue flames in the relentless eyes, warning him that this tall, redheaded deputy had the law on his side—more: that Lance Tolliver, if pushed to the limit, might prove as much of a killer as Herrick himself. Herrick’s eyes widened at this discovery. Involuntarily he commenced to back away. The fingers of his right hand spread, relinquishing their hold on the gun butt, and dropped to his side.
“Reach!” Lance jerked out. “Reach high, you scut!”
Herrick’s hands came into the air above his Stetson. A shiver flashed along his backbone. He felt something jab, hard and sudden, into his middle. Looking down, he realized that Tolliver’s gun muzzle was boring in between his ribs.
Lance’s left hand moved forward, jerked the six-shooter from Herrick’s holster. Then he stepped back. “This seems to be your day for getting jammed up, Herrick,” Lance commented coldly as he thrust the captured gun into the waistband of his overalls. “First thing you know, you’re going to get into trouble—and I mean trouble! Beating up a helpless Indian seems to be just about your speed. I’m warning you not to go too far.”
“By God, Tolliver!” Herrick flamed. “I’ll get you for this if it’s the last thing I do——!”
“You had your chance,” Lance snapped, “but you lacked the nerve. I figure you’re yellow clear through!”
A small knot of men had collected. Ordway, Anvil Wheeler, Ridge and two or three others of Herrick’s gang had appeared on the porch of the Pozo Verde Saloon. Lance watched them warily while still keeping an eye on the fuming man before him. None of the gang attempted to take a hand in the affair.
The Yaquente had by this time climbed to his feet and stood stolidly by, blood running down from the angry lashes across his face. More blood was seeping into his clothing.
Lance glanced at the man and felt a sharp anger run through his body. For a brief moment his gun barrel raised a trifle toward Herrick. Herrick quailed back. “My God! You wouldn’t shoot a defenseless man!” he exclaimed in terror.
Lance laughed shortly. “Yellow clear through,” he repeated. “No, Herrick, I’m not aiming to shoot you, though you deserve just that.”
Herrick glanced at his gang on the porch at his rear and could see the beginning of a certain contempt in their eyes. He gathered his fleeing remnants of courage and forced himself to meet Lance’s angry gaze. “Sometime,” he grated, “I’ll show you if I’m yellow or not. Don’t think you got me bluffed, Tolliver. Right now my hands are tied.” This for the benefit of his friends on the porch. “But my time will come. The time just ain’t ripe yet. But you’ll see. I’ll blast you so wide open that——”
“Cut it,” Lance said sharply. “Cut out your boasting and tell me what all this is about. What’s the idea of beating this Yaquente?”
“None of your damn business,” Herrick snarled.
“Maybe”—Lance’s gun tilted threateningly—“you’d like me to make it my business.”
Fear appeared in Herrick’s face. “All right, if you got to know,” he said sullenly. “This flat-faced Yaquente was begging ammunition from me. I told him I wouldn’t give him none. He made a blasted nuisance of himself, hanging around.”
“Is that straight?” Lance asked.
“Hell!” Herrick jerked one angry thumb over his shoulder. “You don’t need to take my word. Ask any of them fellers. They heard the whole thing—how this Yaquente has been hanging around all day——”
“That’s right,” Herrick’s pals chorused. “Chiricahua’s throwing a straight loop, Tolliver.”
Lance glanced scornfully at the knot of men on the porch, then turned to the Yaquente standing near. “You understand this, hombre?”
The Yaquente burst into a guttural flow in his own tongue.
“Whoa, whoa!” Lance exclaimed. “Hold it, Injun. Now, listen careful.” Lance tried the man with a few Spanish words and saw his face light up. “You understand that, eh?” Lance asked. The Indian nodded. It appeared after a moment that he also had a few words of En glish. “All right, we’re getting straightened around now,” Lance said. He repeated certain words.
Again a volley of Yaquente verbiage mingled with Spanish and a spattering of En glish assailed Lance’s ears. He turned to Herrick. “The Injun says you promised him some ammunition for a gun.”
“He’s a goddam liar,” Herrick growled.
“How about it, Yaquente?” Lance asked.
The Indian glanced at Herrick’s friends on the saloon porch, next at Herrick. Something in their eyes made him change his mind, apparently. He finally grunted, “Forget eet, senor. Ees not’ing.”
Lance shrugged his shoulders. Time was passing. “What’s your name?”
The Indian replied promptly. Lance smiled. “Maybe you’re right, but it sounds like Horatio to me.”
“Ees good name.” The Yaquente showed white teeth from his bloody countenance.
Lance took a half-dollar from his pocket and gave it to the Yaquente. “Here, go get your face washed and a bellyful of chili. Then you’d better light out for home, savvy?”
“I’m—savvy. Gracias, senor.” Obediently the Yaquente turned the corner and stalked off in the direction of the railroad tracks.
Lance turned to Herrick. “You’d better keep off my path for a spell, Herrick. I won’t be pushed much farther.”
“I want my gun——” Herrick commenced.
“Want and be damned,” Lance said wrathfully. “You can have it when you learn how to act civilized. Just remember what I’ve told you. Don’t cross my trail any more than you can help.”
He left Herrick standing on the corner cursing under his breath and started once more for the livery stable. Here he saddled up and headed toward the sheriff’s office. When he arrived there he didn’t dismount, but drew to a halt before the tie rail and called to Oscar. Oscar came out of the office.
“Hell’s bells!” Oscar said, “ain’t you left yet? I figured by this time you’d have dug up half the cactus in Sartoris County.”
Lance took Herrick’s gun from his waistband. “Here’s your friend Cherry-Cow’s gun,” he said. “I told him he could have it when he learned to behave himself.”
“Cripes A’mighty! You had another run-in with Herrick?”
Lance smiled. “I had to prove to him I didn’t always need you for protection.” He related what had taken place.
When Lance had finished Oscar said indignantly, “The dirty sidewinder. I’m sorry you didn’t plug him. Taking his gun won’t do any good.”
“It ’ll make him buy another, leastwise,” Lance said, “if he needs one right away. And now”—touching spurs to his pony’s ribs—“I’m off to the cactus party.” He moved down the street.
Oscar called after him, “Better take along some lemon drops. They’re right beneficial for sunstroke.”
