CHAPTER XII: CULTUS SWINGS A MEAN GUN
Cultus approached the Triangle X cautiously. He could see the light through one window, but he did not know the lay of the land; so he dismounted and came on toward the house, circling away from the open window.
He went around the house, searching for a window where he might overhear what was going on in there. He moved in close to the house, sidling along in the dark, and almost ran into Jane Kelton, who was leaning against the wall near another half-open window. There was enough illumination for Cultus to recognise her clothes.
He backed slowly away to the kitchen door, which was barred. Then he went back around the house to the window where he had first seen the light. It was very dark out there, and always a danger of making a noise in that unfamiliar terrain. But he went cautiously to the corner of an angle in the wall.
Ten feet beyond him and around the corner was the window, and as Cultus leaned out for a glimpse, he saw the dark bulk of a man, leaning in fairly close to the window, with the lamplight shining on the breech of a double-barrel shotgun, which the man had slid across the window sill.
He could hear Marsh talking to Blaze about the Lost Trail, but he could only hear an occasional word. Cultus slid his gun loose slowly. He had an instinctive hatred for any man with a sawed-off shotgun. The man’s back was turned toward Cultus, and he seemed intent on what was going on in the house.
Then he heard Blaze’s drawling voice:
“Three to one, and not countin’ the lady. All right; you say the word. Yuh may get me, but some of yuh go along with Blaze Nolan!”
Cultus took two cautious steps forward, as Marsh’s voice rang triumphantly: “You are not considering the two loads of buckshot just behind you.”
And then Cultus Collins took another step toward the window.
“You didn’t think we were fools enough to make it anywhere near an even break, did you?” asked Marsh. “I’ve had a man out there on the job ever since you came here to the house. It’s all in a day’s work with him. Now, you go ahead and talk! If you want a pencil and paper to draw a map, we’ll get ’em.
“I want full directions for finding that Lost Trail, Nolan. Your life don’t mean anything to me. When Kendall Marsh wants anything, he gets it. Think fast. I’ll give you thirty seconds to talk. And thirty seconds isn’t much. Ten of ’em are gone now; ten more are on their way. Ready to talk?”
Blaze’s face was white in the yellow lamplight, his muscles tensed.
“Twenty seconds gone.”
The woman covered her face with her hands, and Butch Van Deen laughed harshly.
“Five seconds more.”
Blunk! It was a queer sound. The two barrels of the shotgun jerked upward, came a terrific concussion—darkness.
Both barrels of the heavy shotgun had sent their loads of shot into the big lamp, which illuminated the room, and the whole house shook from the concussion.
Blaze threw himself full length out of the chair, landing on his hands and knees. The woman screamed and fell over Blaze. Some one else stumbled into him, and he struck them with the barrel of his gun. A revolver lashed out a streak of fire, but it was not pointed in his direction.
The door flew open, and Blaze went out, like a quarterback going through a hole in the line for a touchdown.
Bullets were flying promiscuously, but Blaze headed for his horse. He saw Della swing on to her saddle, but the horse whirled wildly and flung her to the ground. Blaze didn’t know why he ran to her. She was one of Marsh’s gang, and in no danger, except for an accidental shot, but he ran to her in the dark, swung her up in his arms and ran to his horse.
He swung her up to the saddle, mounted quickly, twisting her around in his arms, and rode wildly away down the road toward Medicine Tree. He was half a mile from the ranch before he slackened speed.
“I dunno why I picked you up,” he told her. “I reckon it was because you’re a woman. Now yuh can see how I stand with Kendall Marsh. He’d have murdered me, if somethin’ hadn’t happened to ruin his scheme. I reckon it’s war now; and if yo’re wise, you’ll keep out of it. You’ve done me all the dirt yuh can, anyway; so yuh may as well let up.
“I reckon I hit it when I told Marsh that his money sent yuh out of town ahead of my trial, and it was his money that kept yuh away from here. I never thought about that. But you won’t be any good to Kendall Marsh from now on; and you better watch yore own skin. God knows, I’ve no cause to worry about you—you paid liar; but yo’re a woman. I’ll drop yuh just outside Medicine Tree and you can walk in. And you can tell Marsh what I said.”
The woman did not say a word, and Blaze wondered if she had been hurt when the horse flung her in the dust. Anyway, it was no concern of his, he decided. Two hundred yards away from the end of the main street, he let her slide to the ground, and without another word he rode swiftly down the main street of the town, and out the way that led to the Circle M.
Harry Kelton saw him ride through, and recognised him. But Harry wasn’t interested in Blaze—he wanted to find Jane. He was sure she had not started for home alone, but he mentally kicked himself for staying so long at the War Dance. He had searched all over the town for her, and was about to leave for the ranch, when he saw Blaze Nolan ride through.
He stood on the edge of the sidewalk for several moments, debating what to do, when he saw a woman coming down the sidewalk toward him. She was limping a little and walking slowly, and as she came into the lights from the store window, he saw it was Jane. She was dusty, and one sleeve was almost torn from her dress.
“For God’s sake, what happened to you and where have you been?” he demanded. “Jane, yo’re a mess! Look at yore clothes. And where’s yore horse. Talk, can’tcha?”
“Give me a chance,” she said weakly. “I don’t know where my horse is, but he’s probably still out at the Triangle X. He threw me off out there, and Blaze Nolan mistook me for another woman. He brought me back to town on his horse, without knowing the difference, Harry.”
“Blaze Nolan—the Triangle X? What do yuh mean, Jane? Are yuh crazy?”
“Maybe I am, a little.”
“But what on earth were you doin’ out there? I’ve hunted all over for you.”
“Can’t we both ride your horse? I can’t go back after mine. There was a lot of shooting out there at the Triangle X, and I—I want to talk with dad. Who is this coming?”
It was Cultus Collins. He rode up to the front of the store and dismounted, whistling softly. He saw Jane and smiled at her as he removed his big hat, and they saw a smear of blood across the back of his left hand.
“Still shoppin’?” he asked pleasantly, and then he saw the dusty and torn condition of her clothes.
“It shore is dusty in this country,” he smiled. “I picked up a brown mare, wearin’ a saddle. I think she’s got a JK brand. I wasn’t sure who she belonged to; so I tied her at a hitchrack at the far end of town. I didn’t want to get arrested for stealin’ horses, yuh know.”
“Where did yuh find her?” demanded Harry quickly.
“Oh, jist around somewhere. Good night.”
He went out to his horse and led it down the street to the stable.
“Was Collins out there?” Harry asked his sister.
“I don’t know.”
“I’ll bet he was; he’s one of Marsh’s spies.”
“I guess we better go home,” said Jane wearily.
“I guess so. But what were you doin’ out at the Triangle X, and what was the shootin’ about? Is it a secret? And what woman did Blaze Nolan mistake you for?”
“For that woman he was supposed to have fought Ben over.”
“Oh, she was out there, eh? More mystery!”
“I suppose so. My, I skinned my arm when I got thrown!”
“Are yuh sure Blaze didn’t recognise yuh?”
“No. Let’s go home, Harry.”
“Don’t feel very good, eh?”
“I feel great. If I didn’t still have sand in my throat, I’d sing.”
And while they rode back to the JK, things were not so pleasant at the Triangle X. Terry Ione was laid out on the couch, with a cold water compress on his head along with a lump the size of a goose-egg, where Cultus Collins’s six-shooter barrel had landed with sufficient force to cause Terry to lose all interest in things.
Mac Rawls had a red streak across one cheek, where a bullet had narrowly missed ruining his face, and Kendall Marsh had a bullet scrape across his right elbow, which caused him considerable pain.
Della was still there, unhurt, but willing to go back to Medicine Tree as soon as possible. The room smelled strongly of kerosene from the smashed lamp, and bits of glass were scattered around the floor.
“This was a hell of a failure,” stated Kendall Marsh glumly. It was about the tenth time he made such a statement.
“Yeah, that’s a cinch,” agreed Van Deen. “We had him all ready to talk, too. Now, it’s too late—he’ll never talk. But who hit Terry?”
Terry didn’t know. He saw a lot of stars, and that was all the information he could offer. He didn’t even hear the shotgun go off, but he had a skinned chin, probably caused by the kick of the weapon when his fingers convulsively jerked at the two triggers.
“Could it have been that damn’ Injun?” wondered Marsh.
“Jules Mendoza?” asked Van Deen. “That’s about who it was.”
“I hope it was. If it was any other Painted Valleyite, they probably heard more than I’d care to have ’em hear. One of you better escort this woman back to town. She’s been scared out of ten years’ growth.”
“I’m all right,” said Della. “I fell over somebody in the dark.”
“So did I,” complained Mac Rawls. “I reckon it was Nolan, because whoever it was they almost busted my right shin with somethin’.”
“Well, what’s to be done?” asked Marsh. “What can be done?”
“You’ve lost yore chance to twist any information out of Nolan,” declared Van Deen. “He’ll be wild as a hawk now. Probably throw in with Painted Valley.”
“They don’t trust him, Butch. He’s in a tough spot himself. The best thing he can do is to leave the Valley.”
“The same to you and many of ’em,” said Mac Rawls painfully. “You’re settin’ on dynamite yourself, Marsh. If I was in yore place—”
“That’s about all out of you, Rawls; I’m runnin’ my business.”
“Runnin’ is jist the right word—runnin’ it to hell and gone.”
Van Deen stepped in quickly and told Rawls to drop the subject. He left the room, and Marsh snorted with disgust and anger.
“Don’t blame Mac,” said Van Deen. “He’s lookin’ out for himself. The men are willin’ to take orders from you, but they won’t run their necks into a rope for what you’re payin’ ’em. This shore is a ticklish business right now, and if Painted Valley ever breaks loose, we’ll all go over the hill.
“You was foolish to try and put somethin’ over with Nolan. He’s no fool; and right now he’s dangerous. If it was the Injun who hit Terry over the head, there’s nothin’ to worry about, because that Injun ain’t very well liked around here; but if it was somebody else, and they heard what was said—”
“This is a fine time to accuse me of foolishness,” complained Marsh. “You thought the idea was a good one.”
“After you was so damn’ sure that Nolan would cave in and tell what he knew.”
“Most anybody would, with a shotgun against their back. It wasn’t my fault that somebody hit Terry over the head. Nolan would have told.”
They argued a while longer, and Marsh decided to go to bed.
“Well, I’m going back to town,” said Della.
“Want me to go with yuh?” asked Van Deen.
“Just get my horse for me, Butch.”
“I guess you better leave the country,” said Marsh angrily.
“Yes?” Della lifted her pencilled eyebrows. “And where will I go, and who pays the freight?”
“I’m about through paying the freight.”
“You are, eh?” Della laughed shortly. “That’s fine. But just remember that you haven’t started yet, Marsh. I don’t know where the Lost Trail is located, but I know other things.”
And Marsh swore viciously as Della and Van Deen went out to their horses.
“If you see Alden in town, bring him back with you, Butch,” he called, but Butch did not answer. He muttered something about dry-nursing a wolf pup, and Della laughed.
“I didn’t know you were going to ride with me, Butch.”
“I’d rather ride to town than to set there and quarrel with him,” he replied.
“Well, I won’t quarrel with him,” she said coldly. “If he thinks I’m a fool, he’s crazy.”
Blaze Nolan rode through Medicine Tree, intending to go back to the Circle M ranch, but when he was half-way there, he swung his horse around and rode back. The more he thought over how close they came to murdering him, the more angry he became. He wanted to meet some of them on even terms, and he had a feeling that some of them would come to Medicine Tree that night. Just now Blaze Nolan was a potential killer.
He tied his horse to the War Dance hitchrack and went into the saloon. Alden Marsh was in a poker game, half drunk as usual, and Hank North was bucking a roulette wheel. There was no sign of Della, and Blaze decided that she would not appear that evening. He went over to the roulette wheel, and Hank moved aside to give him room.
Hank merely glanced sideways at Blaze and went on playing. Blaze felt sure that Hank did not know what had happened at the Triangle X that night, or he wouldn’t appear so unconcerned about it. After losing a few dollars, Blaze went over to the bar, and a few minutes later Cultus came in and joined him.
“Well, what do yuh know?” asked Cultus pleasantly.
“Not much,” seriously. “How are you, Collins?”
“Pretty good. In fact, if I was any better, I’d have to be tied.”
They talked for a few minutes, and Blaze had about decided to go on to the ranch when Della and Butch Van Deen entered the saloon from the rear door. Blaze stared at Della, but she paid no attention to him. Her clothes were clean and there was nothing about her to indicate that she had been thrown in the dirt.
Butch did not look towards Blaze and Cultus. He talked with Della for a few minutes before she went upstairs, and then went to the roulette game where he spoke to Hank North. Hank shrugged his shoulders, glanced towards the poker table, where Alden Marsh was playing, and turned back to Butch.
It was evident that Hank was telling Butch how small the chances were to get Alden out of the poker game, and Butch evidently agreed with him. Without looking toward Blaze, Butch turned and walked from the rear of the saloon.
Blaze frowned thoughtfully, told Cultus good night and walked from the saloon. He crossed the street and hurried down to a point across from the livery stable, where he stood and watched Butch ride in, leading a saddle horse, which he turned over to the keeper, and then rode back toward the Triangle X.
“I guess I’m gettin’ kinda loco myself,” mused Blaze, as he went up to his horse. “I bring her to town on my horse, and a few minutes later she rides her own horse in, and nothin’ to show she ever got dumped in the dirt. And I distinctly felt a big tear in one of her sleeves. This kinda hocus-pocus shore makes me paw my head.”
He climbed on his horse and headed for the Circle M.