“Sure, Ralph, sure. Mention those names,and he goes berserk.”
“I’ve already met Valentine and Emerson,”said Kerwin, “under amicable circumstances, I’m glad to say. I knowthe, colonel despises them ...”
“All Texans, Ralph.” The M.O. grinnedreminiscently. “Anything in pants or skirts, if it comes out of theLone Star State.”
“But I don’t know why he feels that way,”frowned Kerwin.
“Quite a few of us know the answer,”Vaughan confided, “But you’ll never hear us discussing it. The oldman would break us to buck privates, if he ever heard us. Texans,my young friend, are a sore point with the colonel, and with ourbumptious Sergeant Boyle. It’s an old story, beginning with anincident they’d dearly love to forget.” He darted a cautious glancetowards the C.O.’s tent and dropped his voice, despite theconsiderable distance. “A great humiliation for our illustriouscommanding officer, Ralph. He was a captain at that time. Boyle washis corporal. It happened during the war. Stone was leading asizeable patrol. They were cut off by a handful of shabby,poorly-armed Rebs ...”
“Texans?” prodded Kerwin.
“Texans,” nodded Vaughan. “Stone’s patroloutnumbered those Rebs two to one, yet the Rebs got the better ofthem.”
“Oh!” Kerwin nodded understandingly. “Sothe colonel and his men ended up in a Confederate prisoncamp.”
“Worse than that—far worse,” chuckledVaughan. “Those sassy Texans sent Stone and his men back to theUnion lines—minus their horses, their weapons and ...” His mirthincreased, so that his next words were almost unintelligible, “andtheir britches ...!”
“Thunderation!” breathed Kerwin.
Vaughan sighed heavily and regainedcontrol of himself. “Do yourself a favor, my friend,” he advised.“Never mention those names in his presence.”
“Thanks for the warning,” grinned Kerwin.“You may be sure I won’t.”
At two p.m., sprawled side by side ontheir beds at the Lincoln House, the Texans were still reviewingthe current situation.
“The way I see it,” mused Larry, “thisboss-Apache hasn’t yet got his paws on any of those hijackedrepeaters—but it could happen.”
“What makes you think he ain’t got ’emalready?” demanded Stretch.
“The shipment was grabbed better than a weekago,” Larry reminded him.
“Uh huh,” grunted Stretch.
“Somehow,” frowned Larry, “I can’t imaginethe chief’d wait all this time before sendin’ his braves a’raidin’.It’s my hunch he’d have acted fast—say inside forty-eight hours ofthe ambush. No. He ain’t got ’em—but he might.”
“I don’t much admire the skunksthat drygulched them freighters,” muttered Stretch, “along with sixsoldier-boys. It looks like they only had one reason, huh, runt? Imean, right from the start, they figured to give them repeaters tothe Injuns.” He shook his head sadly. “And that’s dirty. Yup. Thatsmells awful bad.”
“I’d like to believe,” said Larry, “that youand me could run into those hijackers, sooner or later.”
Stretch brightened considerably.
“We likely will,” he suggested.
“We likely will,” Larry grimly agreed.
“So what do we do for a starter?” askedStretch. “The law and the army already tried to cut sign of themdrygulchers, and couldn’t find nary a horse track. Wouldn’t be anyuse us moseyin’ out to where it happened.”
“We’ll mosey out there anyway,” saidLarry, “but there’s somethin’ else I’d like to take a whirl at,somethin’ that might win us some time.”
“Like what, for instance?” proddedStretch.
“Like,” said Larry, “payin’ a little socialcall on Gayatero.”
“Ride up to Sun Dog Mesa?” Stretch rolledover and blinked at him. “Doggone you, runt, you get the damnedestnotions!”
“Whether that flea-bit old buzzard alreadyhas the rifles,” Larry patiently explained, “or whether he’s apt toget ’em, it wouldn’t do no harm to discourage him.”
“Discourage him from what?” demandedStretch.
“From usin’ the rifles,” said Larry.
“How in blazes,” wondered Stretch, “areyou gonna do that?”
Larry told him how, in a few short, tersesentences. And, like so many of his outlandish schemes, it allseemed absurdly simple to his partner.
“That could work,” Stretch calmly agreed.“Uh, huh. That could sure as hell discourage ’em.”
“Only one thing,” frowned Larry.
“What?” asked Stretch.
“We’d convince those Apaches a damn sighteasier,” Larry opined, “if we weren’t just a couple civilians.”
“You mean you’d rather we got duded up assoldiers?” challenged Stretch.
“That’d be better,” declared Larry. “A wholelot better. Trouble is, it ain’t easy to grab a couple armyrigouts. We can’t just sneak out to Camp Stone and help ourselves.Old Vinegar-Face would order us shot on sight, or maybe throw usinto the stockade.” He rose from his bed, trudged to the openwindow, then pulled it shut. “It’s rainin’.”
As he unrolled his pack and tugged at hisslicker, Stretch enquired,
“Where are we headed?”
“We’ll ask Little Lew about a gunsmith,”said Larry. “Later on, I’ll go talk to Martha. Her pappy was afreighter, don’t forget. She’d know this territory good. If there’sany way we can sneak up to the mesa without some army patrolspottin’ us, I reckon she’s the gal could tell us.” He added, whiledonning his slicker, “But I sure wish I could get us a coupleuniforms.”
Stretch jack-knifed off his bed, unrolledhis gear and shrugged into his slicker. They donned their Stetsons,quit the room and descended to the lobby.
At the livery stable, Little Lew bent arespectful ear to Larry’s query gave it a few moments of deepthought, then offered a name.
“Shipway—Harv Shipway. Best durn gunsmithin the whole doggone county—-or any other county. He can’t shootworth a peck o’ sour apples but, when it comes to fixin’ a gun—anykinda gun you can think of—he’s a champeen. You just sashay twoblocks downtown. Harv’s place is right opposite of Quincey’sHaberdashery.”
A few moments later, the tall strangers weredripping water from their slickers on the board floor of theShipway store, and being accorded a placid greeting by theproprietor. Shipway was pudgy, totally bald and devoted to histrade, an elderly man of even temperament. Politely, he listened toLarry’s request.
“Latest model repeater? Well now, you gotany special make in mind?”
“The brand,” Larry decided, “won’t beimportant. Just so long as it’s a repeater, and fresh fromstock.”
“Shiny-new, huh?” grinned Shipway. Fromunder his counter, he produced a 44.40 of the latest design, ashandsome a rifle as the Texans had ever examined. “Look it over,gents, and take your time. Brand new. And the innards are as purtyas the outside—if you’d like me to take it apart.”
“No need,” said Larry. “This shooter’ll dofine. How much?”
Shipway quoted the price. Larry
