Ernest Haycox - Ernest Haycox - Ultimate Collection - Western Classics & Historical Novels

"Good enough here."

"Well, what'll I do with these boys? Never saw so many punchers fer one ranch. I count fifteen."

"Hobble 'em an' come over."

Moses had found and lighted a lamp in the main room. He carried it into the bedroom and inspected the man Lilly had dropped at the door. Blood streamed down his face, but it seemed to be something less than a mortal wound. Moses put the lamp on the floor and ran an investigating finger over the fellow's head. "He's grazed, Tom. Sorter knocked him cuckoo. I'll put a han'k'chuff aroun' it an' he'll be good enough."

Stubbins on the bed, was coming out of his enforced sleep; coming out in a fighting mood, twitching his arms. Lilly waited until the Englishman opened his eyes and shook the mists clear of his head. Anger glinted in the pale blue eyes as he stared toward Lilly. "What's this confounded banditry about?" he growled. "I shall hold you for this, friend. I'll have your scalp for it, believe me."

"What have you done with Jill Breck?" demanded Lilly.

"Oh—that's it, eh? It would please you to find out, wouldn't it? Well, she's not here, Red. She's far away." Then it seemed to occur to him that he had forgotten himself. "Why, you damn pup, you know well enough where she is! I'll have you back in jail within six hours. Watch you hang, too, by Godfrey!"

"Yore out of date," said Lilly. "Things have happened since you went to sleep. Yore gang is hog-tied. I've got a posse here that'll string you to a tree if you lie to me. Time's past for foolin'. I've got enough on you this minute to send you to the pen."

"What's that?"

"Some of the JIB boys have been tellin' tales," offered Lilly. "Some of the JIB cows have been found in yore herds, too. We know Jill Breck's been here. Now, you talk turkey an' talk fast."

It was all guess work, but based on good evidence. Lilly watched the Englishman's face settle and to further upset the man he ordered him up and into the main room where Joe Breedlove and three or four of the H-H crew were lounging. "It's all off with you, Stubbins. You tell the truth. We've got six men who'll turn state's evidence against you. Where's Jill Breck?"

"What if I tell?"

"You'll get an even break," promised Lilly.

"What if I don't tell?" shot back Stubbins, his thin mouth disappearing beneath the great nose.

"You'll be hung in an hour."

"Eh? Oh, no. You wouldn't dare that. I'm too big a man in this country."

"So? Say, when this leaks out there won't be a man, woman or dog in Robey County but what won't want to take a piece out of yore hide. No, you ain't got a foot to stand on. Now, where's Jill Breck?"

Stubbins thrust a long, cool glance around at the H-H men, then rose and filled one of the pipes on the mantel. Behind a cloud of tobacco smoke he deliberated. For all his villainy, there was something in the man to evoke admiration. Here he stood, with all his plans crashing down around his head, with three or four grave charges against him—charges that would inevitably lead him to the penitentiary or worse; he had no means of knowing whether this posse would take his life or not, or if they let him go, whether an outraged county would be as lenient. Still, he smoked imperturbably, as if deciding no more important a thing than whether or not to hire another hand for his ranch.

"Yore house is made of cards," broke in Lilly. "As long as old Breck lived, he and you could buffalo this county. But it's too big a job for you alone. A dozen good men can bust any sort of range piracy, and we're goin' to bust you. Times are changin', amigo. You'll change with 'em or go down."

Fretfulness invaded the horsey face. "Damn the man," said Stubbins testily. "Damn Trono. He was the one I always mistrusted. You can't play with a bullheaded fool. Now, he shouldn't have brought—" There he stopped, finishing the sentence to himself.

"Anybody's a fool to trail along with Trono," broke in Lilly. "He'll saddle murder to you yet."

"What's that?" demanded Stubbins, jerking up his head. "Murder—murder?"

"It's the kind he is," replied Lilly. "I know him. He'll go bugs an' shoot anything in sight."

Stubbins appeared to be seeing unwelcome visions. "Ay, I know that. Look, what do you mean by an even break?"

"Stolen goods returned and no questions asked."

"Ah. What goods?"

"Jill Breck for one. Later Joe and I will hold a roundup of yore stock and pick JIB critters."

"And no tales told!"

"None but what naturally leak out, amigo. Of course, yore goin' to lose some of them nice cut-throats you've got hired. Joe's goin' to see that they get started north after breakfast. I'll send the JIB bunch over to you, seein' they're yore men anyhow. Now, let's shorten this palaver."

"Devil," muttered Stubbins. He shot a glance at Lilly. "My boy, you ain't scarin' me, understand? I do this of my own conscience. No man's big enough to scare me."

"Have it yore own way," said Lilly. Joe Breedlove dropped a wink at his partner, which Lilly answered.

"Well, then, Trono took Jill Breck, the night before lost. I told him to stop at a line rider's cabin." He marched to a book case and found a map of the country, running his finger along its surface and pointing for Lilly's benefit. "There you are. It's twenty miles southeast. In the fringe of rock and trees. Welcome, my lad."

"And you let that lout take her off!" cried Lilly, his temper rising. "If she's harmed I'll kill you for it!"

Stubbins returned a hard, obstinate stare, growing red around his heavy neck. He was about to make some rousing answer when he caught Joe Breedlove's usually mild eyes anchored on him with such an intent, weighing glance that he forebore. Instead, he asked a question.

"You mean to kill him?"

"One of us goes down," retorted Lilly.

"It's all the same to me," said Stubbins. "You or him." With that he dropped in a chair and smoked furiously.

"Moses," said Lilly, "find me a fresh horse." He walked into the pale light of false dawn, Joe Breedlove close behind. The big man's arm rested lightly on Lilly's shoulder.

"Well, this is yore fight, Red, so I ain't goin'. But watch yore rear. An' say, yuh wouldn't have hung Stubbins, even if he'd refused to talk."

"I guess not," said Lilly, "but I shore would've done somethin'. He's slick, that boy. Know why he told on Trono? Because he knew one of us won't come back, which is just right for him."

"Like hell it is," growled Breedlove. Moses was returning with a saddled paint horse. "If yuh don't show up in five-six hours, Mr. Stubbins is like to have an accident. Meanwhile, we'll take care o' this crew."

Lilly swung up, gripped Joe's outstretched arm, and spurred away. Dawn was just below the eastern rim; toward it he traveled, going as fast as the horse would stand.

The sun rose in its arc, glowered from zenith, and fell westward, growing more wrathful, more sultry. The vast plain shimmered under the heat and above the undulating barren spaces queer, phantasmic shapes formed and dissolved. To all this Tom Lilly was unconscious. He traveled with Stubbins' map firmly fixed in his head, and an unreasoning hatred in his heart. It was Trono, always Trono who interposed his unlovely, killer's face into the images that passed and re-passed Tom Lilly's vision. Trono was a bad Indian; and never would be a good one until dead. Where had the man got all this vindictiveness of spirit? What could he hope to profit from his course of lawlessness? Well, he was an outlaw by nature; made the more so by his training under old Jim Breck in the days when the Octopus had given him hard chores to do. Evidently, he had formed connections with Stubbins—probably would be a chief heir of the looting of the JIB.

"Even if there wasn't a cent to be made he'd be a renegade, though," opined Lilly. Reviewing the course of events he slapped one hand against the saddle skirts, saying, "It's him or me. If he's laid one o' his dirty paws on Jill—"