business only hit me a few minutes ago. If he could leave a few tracks and then match them with plates found in Irv’s duffle he’d have a pretty good case — particular if French was in no position to disprove it. I knew then he’d try again.
“When I seen Irv duck into these oaks just now, and Farraday ramming into them after him, I fed the hooks to my bronc and cut over, figuring to head them. But I cut over too far. I was just swinging back when I heard the shot.”
He said bitterly, “I didn’t see him kill Irv. But the light from your lanterns showed where Irv was. I found Farraday standing over him — smoke still coming out of that Colt gun. I ran up and wrassled it away from him.”
Farraday, reaching over, took Ben’s gun from Sary’s hand as casually as though he were about to sniff its barrel. He made sure, instead, the patent barrel-latch was locked and, smiling coldly at Hollis, slipped a finger around the trigger. “Very plausible,” he said, “but what’s it all about? I haven’t denied killing French. As for those tracks —” he glanced at Sary, “they were there if you’d wanted to find them. Olds, when he gets back, can tell you all about it.”
“Olds!” Hollis blurted, and threw a wild look about him.
“The kid,” Grete said patiently. “Barney Olds — hadn’t you missed him? French slipped the plates to Idaho. I gave them to Barney to put on his horse — along with the rifle which the kid also found, and told him to put down a trail into the mountains. Whatever Irv may have been up to isn’t like to come off quite the way it was planned.”
They all caught the black look Hollis stabbed at the gunfighter. Idaho, loosening bony shoulders, ignored him, heading back for the fire. “Gee-rusalem!” Rip said, and felt around for his bottle.
Hollis bared his teeth; but after looking at his Schofield casually balanced in Farraday’s fist he shut his face — as someone said afterward “hard enough to bust his nut-crackers.”
Sary said, “What are you going to do about… that?”
Grete looked down at French. “I guess,” he said, not without an edge of malice, “we’ll let Mr. Hollis take care of Irv. Rest of you better go hang on the nose bag. In case you’ve forgot, we’ve got stock to ride herd on.”
Sary, as they moved back toward the grub, returned Grete’s pistol and cartridges. He gave her Ben’s Schofield. “A poor weapon to be caught with in this kind of country. It sure excells at unloading — spills empties and live ones all over your lap, but it sure don’t get along good with this dust. Cavalry had to get rid of them.” He pulled his stare from the swell of her shirt and brought his mind bitterly to the business in hand. “Case you’re wondering about those fillies…”
Her head came around. “But I thought you traded —”
“I sold those jaspers a bill of goods. We had to find grass and we had to have water. Happens all the water in this country’s right here; those springs that pair have squatted on, this seep and a hole at the other side of the pass.” He didn’t know why he was bothering to explain this.
She said after a moment, “Why didn’t you just plug them the way you did French? It’ll come to that, won’t it?”
“We might have lost some of the crew. They was set for it then.” He punched the empty out of the Colt’s cylinder and reloaded, thrusting the gun back into its holster. “If they’ve got to be shot I’ll drop them where it won’t matter.”
They went the rest of the way in silence. But as they came up to the fire she said to him quietly, “You’re tough and pretty ruthless but you’re not quite the bastard you make yourself out to be.”
She turned away, picking up a cup and tin plate, and set about the business of getting them filled. He thought angrily, staring after her:
Now where did she come up with that idea?
and twisted his jaw to look across the fire at Idaho. He hadn’t yet got it
“When I seen Irv duck into these oaks just now, and Farraday ramming into them after him, I fed the hooks to my bronc and cut over, figuring to head them. But I cut over too far. I was just swinging back when I heard the shot.”
He said bitterly, “I didn’t see him kill Irv. But the light from your lanterns showed where Irv was. I found Farraday standing over him — smoke still coming out of that Colt gun. I ran up and wrassled it away from him.”
Farraday, reaching over, took Ben’s gun from Sary’s hand as casually as though he were about to sniff its barrel. He made sure, instead, the patent barrel-latch was locked and, smiling coldly at Hollis, slipped a finger around the trigger. “Very plausible,” he said, “but what’s it all about? I haven’t denied killing French. As for those tracks —” he glanced at Sary, “they were there if you’d wanted to find them. Olds, when he gets back, can tell you all about it.”
“Olds!” Hollis blurted, and threw a wild look about him.
“The kid,” Grete said patiently. “Barney Olds — hadn’t you missed him? French slipped the plates to Idaho. I gave them to Barney to put on his horse — along with the rifle which the kid also found, and told him to put down a trail into the mountains. Whatever Irv may have been up to isn’t like to come off quite the way it was planned.”
They all caught the black look Hollis stabbed at the gunfighter. Idaho, loosening bony shoulders, ignored him, heading back for the fire. “Gee-rusalem!” Rip said, and felt around for his bottle.
Hollis bared his teeth; but after looking at his Schofield casually balanced in Farraday’s fist he shut his face — as someone said afterward “hard enough to bust his nut-crackers.”
Sary said, “What are you going to do about… that?”
Grete looked down at French. “I guess,” he said, not without an edge of malice, “we’ll let Mr. Hollis take care of Irv. Rest of you better go hang on the nose bag. In case you’ve forgot, we’ve got stock to ride herd on.”
Sary, as they moved back toward the grub, returned Grete’s pistol and cartridges. He gave her Ben’s Schofield. “A poor weapon to be caught with in this kind of country. It sure excells at unloading — spills empties and live ones all over your lap, but it sure don’t get along good with this dust. Cavalry had to get rid of them.” He pulled his stare from the swell of her shirt and brought his mind bitterly to the business in hand. “Case you’re wondering about those fillies…”
Her head came around. “But I thought you traded —”
“I sold those jaspers a bill of goods. We had to find grass and we had to have water. Happens all the water in this country’s right here; those springs that pair have squatted on, this seep and a hole at the other side of the pass.” He didn’t know why he was bothering to explain this.
She said after a moment, “Why didn’t you just plug them the way you did French? It’ll come to that, won’t it?”
“We might have lost some of the crew. They was set for it then.” He punched the empty out of the Colt’s cylinder and reloaded, thrusting the gun back into its holster. “If they’ve got to be shot I’ll drop them where it won’t matter.”
They went the rest of the way in silence. But as they came up to the fire she said to him quietly, “You’re tough and pretty ruthless but you’re not quite the bastard you make yourself out to be.”
She turned away, picking up a cup and tin plate, and set about the business of getting them filled. He thought angrily, staring after her:
Now where did she come up with that idea?
and twisted his jaw to look across the fire at Idaho. He hadn’t yet got it
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