Part 5

After his meal he went over to the Tarp City saloon. The strange cattle buyer was drinking with some of the men from the Fossilshell--or rather, they were drinking with him. Peace sat down against the wall and watched the activities in the place.

In about fifteen minutes Frank Campion came in. He saw Peace Parker but did not speak. One of the cowboys called to him and he joined their party. Peace heard them tell the buyer that Campion was from the Chinook Valley, and they began talking prices.

After a few more rounds of drinks Campion and the buyer went outside. It was growing dusk. Peace got up and went out just in time to see them disappear into the livery-stable. He crossed the street to the front of Carney’s store where he leaned against a post until the two men came out, leading a saddled horse. Campion went to the hitch-rack, mounted his horse and joined the cattle-buyer.

“That’s funny,” reflected Peace. “Campion came in with a thirst and the stranger was half-loaded, but they’re leavin’ it behind. I never seen a cow-man with a thirst that was so anxious to sell stock that he’d quit drinkin’ to make a sale.”

Peace swung across the street, untied his horse and got into the saddle. Without showing undue haste he rode down the street, but as soon as he was clear of Tarp City he shook up his horse and hit the Poncho Pass grades at a stiff gallop.

There was no real reason for Peace following these two men except that he was a student of cowboy nature and was following what might be called a “hunch.” It was the same feeling that causes a gambler to back a poor hand to the finish, feeling that something unforeseen will happen.

In a few minutes he reached a straight piece of road and saw Campion and the stranger ahead of him. They were riding at a stiff gallop. He drew up slightly, but did not slacken speed too much.

As he swept around a curve, going more cautiously, he suddenly jerked his horse to a standstill. Campion and the stranger had left the road and were climbing up the broken hog-back, heading toward the secret trail.

Peace turned and spurred his horse back around the curve, out of sight of the two men, in case they might look back.

“Now, what do yuh think of that?” grunted Peace to himself wonderingly. “That son-of-a-gun trailed me through that place and now he’s takin’ a cattle-buyer in the same way.”

There was no way of explaining it. As far as Peace could see there was no reason for Campion to take this man into the Valley by a route which was kept secret. It would take at least an hour longer to go in by the trail than by the road so he knew that they were not going in that way as a short-cut.

The two men had disappeared now, and Peace knew that their view of the grades had been shut off, so he spurred ahead toward the Pass, going back into the valley he had left but a short time before.

No one guarded the road now, or, if they did, they were not stopping any one going toward the valley. He topped the Pass and took it easier on the down grades. He knew he could head the two riders without any trouble.

The valley was flooded with moonlight now and his galloping horse made little sound on the dust-padded road. Mile after mile he reeled off before he came to the spot where he left the road and headed into the hills.

An examination of the old cattle-trail showed that the riders were still somewhere back in the mountains; so he took it easier. Finally he reached the narrow cañon which wound back across the summit, and dismounted.

He had reached a spot where the two riders must pass within a short distance from him. Here he had no chance of missing them, in case they came through. Farther down the slopes they might take their own direction into the valley, and he might fail to see them.

He had left his horse in a thicket and stretched himself beside a granite outcropping. Above the Pass hung the moon like a great opal ball. Somewhere a night-bird called in a shrill voice, and far down the slopes a pair of owls hooted a duet.

A wild-cat, in search of its evening meal, crossed the slope just above Peace, like a little gray shadow and melted into the jackpines. Peace grinned contentedly but wished that he might dare to roll a smoke.

Then, from a point far above him, he heard the murmur of voices, as if two men were arguing. It was impossible for him to distinguish voices or words but he knew that it was Campion and the cattle-buyer.

But they did not come on down the slope. The voices ceased and he did not hear them again. Half an hour passed and still the two riders did not appear.

Peace rubbed his chin and wondered at the why and wherefore of it all. Tired of inaction he untied his horse, swung into the saddle and headed for the rocky pass. He had made up his mind to challenge Campion for what he had already done and leave the outcome in the hands of fate.

He had almost reached the rocky defile, when he looked back down the slope. Three indistinct figures emerged from the timbered slope and came toward him. They were three mounted men.

Peace dropped off his horse and led it into the shadow of a cliff, holding a hand over its nostrils. The riders came on over the rocky edge, passing close to Peace. They were talking openly, and Peace recognized them as being Bender, Mehl and Erne.

They went past him and into the defile, traveling slowly.

“It’s a ---- good thing he showed us the way in daylight,” grunted Bender. “The ---- himself couldn’t find it at night.”

“And there’d be ---- to pay if Chinook Valley knew that we was wise to it,” added Erne, chuckling loudly.

Peace grinned to himself. He knew that Campion had showed his men where the secret trail was located--and for some mighty good reason.

“Mebbe,” reflected Peace, “they framed up to keep me from usin’ the road that evenin’, and it was all planned to have Campion see if there was another way in. But why do they come through here?”

He waited until they had passed out of earshot and mounted again. He traveled slowly now, although he felt sure that they did not suspect his presence. Just short of the end of the defile he drew rein.

In the notch of the cañon, silhouetted against the sky, were the riders. He could see them all now. It was impossible for him to approach nearer without danger of discovery. They were evidently arguing about something, as he could see one of them waving his arms at times, and their voices came in bursts of indistinct words.

Then they seemed to group together and disappear to the right of the defile. Peace moved ahead, wondering at their intentions. They should have gone to the left to get back to the road.

He went slowly out to the edge of the defile where the eastern slope of the mountain began and watched closely. Far below him he could hear the horses moving through the brush, the sound getting more faint all the time, as the riders went down the hill.

“Goin’ down a new way so they won’t have to take a chance of bein’ seen from the road,” he decided, after thinking it over. “No reason why yuh couldn’t go that way, except that it’s a long, hard trip and a roundabout way to Tarp City. But what does it all mean?”

Peace humped in his saddle and tried to reason it out. Why should Campion take a stranger up there, he wondered? And why did Bender, Mehl and Erne meet them there?

From what Bender had said, it was reasonable to suppose that the meeting was by appointment. But why? And was the meeting of Campion and the cattle-buyer premeditated? Peace shook his head and took the left-hand side of the cañon, heading back to Tarp City.

* * * * *

That same night Chris Sorensen and Jim Claypool, the owner of the Wagon Wheel outfit, the last ranch at the southern end of the valley, came to the Cross L. Claypool was a dark-faced, somber-eyed sort of an individual, prone to arguments and settled in his convictions. Usually he prefaced his objections by saying, “Yeah, but--” and this habit had caused him to be known as “Yeabut” Claypool.

Since Peace Parker had left the ranch Cross L Marshall had chewed much tobacco and uttered many strange and wonderful oaths. He even swore at Saleratus who promised to feed him ground glass at mealtime. Saleratus felt as bad over the departure of Peace Parker as any of them, and he said he’d be ----ed if anybody was goin’ to rag him when he felt melancholy.

And Cross L was in no mood to enjoy visitors. Sorensen and Claypool sat down in the living-room and tried to appear at ease. Jess had wanted to take their hats, but they assured her that it was hardly necessary.

“Well, whatcha got on yore minds?”

Cross L knew that it was not merely a friendly visit so he wanted them to come right to the point.

“Well,” Claypool twisted his hat nervously and cleared his throat, “well, I been talkin’ to Chris, yuh see. Me and him has been kinda talkin’.”

“That’s fine,” agreed Cross L, a touch of sarcasm in his voice. “Shows that yuh both got vocal cords.”

Claypool squinted at Cross L, but that worthy was as serious as an undertaker.

“Yeah, we’ve been talkin’--me and Chris.”

“Well, for ----’s sake, I hope yuh didn’t come up here to brag about it!” exploded Cross L.

“It was about the bank robbery,” prompted Sorensen.

“Oh, I see.”

“Yeah, but mebbe yuh don’t see,” said Claypool, glad of the opening.

“Me and Chris got to talkin’ about the robbery. Yuh see, Peace Parker brought that Sinks down to Pasiooks. I hear that Sinks was Parker’s hired man.”

“That ain’t got nothin’ to do with the robbery.”

“Yeah, but mebbe it has, Marshall. This here hired man robs the bank, makes his getaway and we lose all our money, don’t we?”

“I did,” said Cross L dryly.

“We all did, as far as that’s concerned,” agreed Sorensen.

“Yeah, but that ain’t what I’m drivin’ at,” stated Claypool. “This here hired man does the job. It ain’t but a danged short time until Peace Parker pulls----”

“Whop!”

Cross L shot out of his chair and leaned over Claypool, who stared up at him.

“Dang yuh, don’tcha say it, Yeabut!” roared Cross L.

“Well!” exploded Claypool wonderingly. “You knowed what I meant without me sayin’ it, Marshall.”

“You said it,” corrected Marshall slowly, “but don’tcha say it agin.”

“Yeah, but what became of Sinks? Why did Parker pull out?”

Marshall squinted away and reached back for his chair. Jess was sitting in a rocking-chair beside the table, and now he looked directly at her, but she did not look up.

“Why?” Marshall shook his head. “I dunno exactly, but he said he wanted to see the other side of the hill.”

“Zasso?” queried Claypool. “I suppose that Sinks is on the other----”

“Hol’ on!” rasped Marshall threateningly. “If you make another remark agin’ Peace Parker, I’ll slap yuh to a peak and slap the peak off.”

“Izzat so!”

“Now, have a little sense,” begged Sorensen. “Fightin’ won’t get us nowhere. Let’s look at this just as though we didn’t know Peace Parker a-tall, will yuh?”

“Can’t be done,” declared Cross L. “I know him, and I’ll be ----ed if I can make m’self talk like I didn’t.”

“Yeah, but--listen.” Claypool leaned forward and cleared his throat. “Yuh got to admit the facts, Marshall. He didn’t leave here for nothin’, did he? He was yore foreman. He had some money of his own in the Pasiooks bank. I found that out from Clayton.

“Parker went away for good, didn’t he? Yeah? Then why didn’t he try to get the money that the bank owed him? He just rode away, thasall. Looks kinda queer to me. Looks kinda queer to a lot of folks, Marshall.”

“Yeah?” Marshall’s mustache bristled belligerently. “Looks kinda queer, eh? Lotsa things look queer to yuh, don’t they, Claypool? F’r instance, it looks queer to yuh that the earth is round, don’t it? That’s ’cause yo’re a slant-eyed yaller-hammer and thinks that everythin’ is flat if it ain’t got corners for yuh to feel of.”

“Naw, I ain’t no slant-eyed nothin’!” snorted Claypool. “I’ve got a lot of _sabe_, and this whole thing looks like it was all framed up. I ain’t got nothin’ pers’nal agin’ Peace Parker. Why, I heard that he rode out of here with a big bundle behind his saddle. Le Page, Hyatt and Campion stopped him on Poncho Pass and Campion wanted to search the bundle, but Parker bluffed him.

“Le Page and Hyatt kinda stood in with Parker and Campion didn’t want to start nothin’ alone.”

“Yuh dang well know he didn’t!” grinned Marshall. “He monkeyed with that buzz-saw once and got in a jam.”

“Well,” observed Sorensen wearily, “we ain’t gettin’ no place, Claypool,” and then to Marshall, “Cross L, you know danged well that I liked Peace Parker. He’s a ---- of a nice feller, but in a case like this yuh got to put yore feelin’s behind yuh.

“I can see things like Claypool does, and--I dunno,” Sorensen shrugged his shoulders and got to his feet. “I don’t accuse nobody--nor trust ’em. If Peace Parker didn’t have no reason, except to see the other side of the hill, I’d say that we ought to kinda find out for ourselves what he aimed to find over there.”

It was a long speech for Sorensen and he was winded at the last word. Claypool got to his feet and put on his hat.

“I’m goin’ to Tarp City,” declared Claypool, “and I’m goin’ to put the facts up to Sheriff Houston. I’ve got a lot of Chinookers backin’ me in this; _sabe_? Goodnight.”

They turned and went out of the door, closing it softly behind them. Cross L Marshall did not look up nor speak as they went out. Their horses’ hoofs sounded hollowly on the hard ground as they rode away.

Marshall lifted his head and found Jess looking at him across the table. He started to speak, but changed his mind and got to his feet.

“Dad, why didn’t you tell ’em why he left?” she asked softly. “It might save Peace a lot of trouble.”

Cross L started for his bedroom, but turned at the door and looked back at her.

“Would Peace tell ’em why he left?” he demanded.

She did not reply. He turned and opened the door, but stopped with the knob in his hand and looked back at her.

“Say, ain’t yuh kinda takin’ a lot of credit to yourself, Jess? How do we know why he left?”

He turned quickly and went into his room, while Jess bent over her work. He had hurt her feelings badly with his two questions, but she forgave him quickly because she knew of his intense loyalty to Peace Parker, and that he had said what he did as a vent for his own anger against everything.

In a few minutes he came out, drawing on his coat, but not soon enough to conceal the cartridge belt around his waist and the heavy Colt revolver in his holster.

“Where are you going, dad?” she asked.

“Nobody’s business!” he growled. “If anybody asks yuh where I’m gone--don’tcha tell ’em, Jess.”

“How could I tell them?” wonderingly.

“Because you know I’m goin’ to Tarp City. By grab, I’m goin’ to be there when Claypool opens his trap to Houston, and I’m goin’ to ram a hot six-gun barrel down among his vocal cords. I’m lookin’ for these Chinookers who are seein’ queer things, that’s what I’m lookin’ for.”

He thumped toward the door, but Jess crossed the room and took him by the arm.

“Dad, don’t do anything to cause trouble. Peace Parker wouldn’t want you to--and he can take care of himself.”

Cross L squinted at her.

“Thasso? Think he can, eh? Lemme tell yuh somethin’, Jess: when a danged fool’s mind gets in such a shape that he goes huntin’ for the other side of a hill, just because his best girl gets stuck on a vas-leen-haired dude--he--can’t--take--care--of--himself. Leggo my arm, young lady.”

He flung open the door, stamped down the steps and headed for the barn. Jess shut the door softly behind him and went back to her work.

Cross L was not a delicate handler of horses, and Jim Horn heard him swearing at the corral. It did not take Jim and Bert long to find out why Cross L was saddling a horse. In fact, Cross L told them in glowing, if profane terms, just why he was going to Tarp City.

And without further explanation, Bert and Jim got their saddles. Old Cross L made no comment, but their hasty actions caused him to quit swearing long enough to chuckle to himself. A few minutes later they rode away from the ranch--heading toward Tarp City.

* * * * *

Peace went back to Tarp City and hung around the saloons until nearly daylight, but Campion and the cattle-buyer did not show up; neither did Bender, Mehl nor Erne put in an appearance.

He ate an early breakfast at an all-night restaurant and rode out of town just before daylight, heading toward the Sun Prairie country. Peace wanted to have another talk with the sheepherder. Perhaps this man might know something about Gus Sinks, he thought.

He expected to find the sheep-camp a few miles out of town, but he traveled almost into the Sun Prairie country without seeing anything of the sheep or the herder. The band had been following the road, and there was no reason for the herder to leave it. There was no chance of a short-cut, as the road ran almost in a straight line to Tarp City.

Peace reached the spot where he had talked to the herder, and turned back.

“Mebbe the son-of-a-gun recognized me and pulled out in a different direction,” he reflected uneasily.

He did not want to lose sight of his own property. But there was no place for the man to hide them.

There was no sheep range to the west, and if he drove them south or east he would encounter the line-riders of the Fossilshell. His only chance was either to keep them on Sun Prairie or ship them from Tarp City.

“Got me fightin’ my own head,” observed Peace. “Mebbe I passed ’em.”

He rode on slowly toward Tarp City, scanning the hills which were so bare of verdure that a grasshopper would have been visible at a great distance. About two miles from Tarp City he saw a rider coming toward him. He appeared to be in a great hurry and when he got closer Peace saw that it was Sheriff Houston.

He drew up beside Peace and mopped his brow with the sleeve of his shirt.

“Whatcha sweatin’ about, sheriff?” grinned Peace.

“I sneaked out of town,” declared Houston seriously.

He turned in his saddle and looked back.

“I hope nobody seen me leave there, ’cause it might look bad.”

“Looks bad when the sheriff has to sneak out,” admitted Peace seriously.

“Yeah, that’s right. Now listen to me, Peace; they’re on your trail. I don’t need to open either one of my eyes to know ---- well that you’re innocent, but them danged----”

“Innocent of what?” interrupted Peace quickly.

“Aw-w-w, of havin’ anythin’ to do with that Pasiooks bank robbery. Lot of them ---- Chinookers got the idea that you and Gus Sinks was in cahoots on it, Peace. They point out the fact that you never went after your money and that you’re pullin’ out for good, and--aw, ----!”

Houston stopped and mopped his brow. Peace stared at him for several moments and a grin widened his mouth.

“It does look kinda like I was tryin’ to out-smart ’em, don’t it, Houston? Reckon they’ll put me in jail?”

“---- right! That’s why I snuck out on ’em. Kinda had an idea yuh was up this way. Now,” Houston shook a finger at Peace, “you keep out of Tarp City, do yuh hear me? I’m danged if I want yuh clutterin’ up my jail. Them Chinookers will stick there in Tarp and likely get drunk. I’ll do a lot of huntin’, but ---- little findin’; _sabe_? Now you hit the grit, you homely son-of-a-gun!”

“Buck, yo’re breakin’ the law,” observed Peace.

“Let her break!”

“Did they swear out a warrant for me?”

“What’s that got to do with it?”

“Uh-huh,” grunted Peace softly.

He knew that Houston had the warrant in his pocket.

“Where’s yore sheep?” asked Houston impatiently.

“I dunno, Buck. Can’t find ’em anywhere.”

“----, yuh can’t lose three thousand sheep! Here.”

Houston took out a note-book and tore out a leaf.

“You write me out an order, Peace. Date it yesterday, _sabe_? I’ll sell them sheep for yuh, and as soon as yuh send me an address I’ll send yuh the money.”

“Buck, yo’re plumb white, but I can’t do it, I appreciate what you’d do for me, but I’ve kinda got a reason. We’ll let the sheep alone for a while, I reckon. You hunt for me, and I’ll hunt for what I can find.”

“Well,” reluctantly, “if that’s the way yuh feel about it, Peace. I’ll swing wide and come in on the Fossilshell road. But, dang your hide, keep away from Tarp City. _Adios._”

“Good-by, Buck.”

The sheriff spurred his horse and swung to the left, heading for the Fossilshell road which went into town on the east side. Peace watched him until he faded out in the distance, and rode on.

Peace reflected bitterly over what the sheriff had told him and wondered who composed the posse from the Chinook, but was forced to grin over the fact that it did look bad for him to leave there so soon after the robbery.

“And I brought Gus Sinks in there, too,” he mused. “By golly, it sure looks bad. I knowed the bank was plumb broke; so I marked my savin’s off the book, but they didn’t see things my way. Well, I reckon I’ve got to prove an air-tight alibi or go to jail.”

Peace did not know where to go so he followed practically the same route taken by the sheriff. He knew that it would only be a short time until the gang from Chinook would be hunting the country for him, and he was not in favor of giving them either a race or a battle.

He struck the Fossilshell road about two miles out of Tarp City where he turned and rode slowly in the opposite direction. To the right of him stretched the brushy slopes of the hills which led to the mountains on the western side of the valley of the Chinook.

Almost behind him and to the right he could see the spot where the secret trail--but a secret no longer--went through the high cliffs. It was miles away and hazy in the noontime heat. Suddenly he drew rein and scanned the dusty road.

A herd of sheep had crossed there--crossed to the right-hand side of the road and were somewhere back in those brushy hills. It was evident that they had crossed but a short time before as there was no track of horse or vehicle since their passing.

Peace swung off the road and followed them. It was easy to trail a band of a thousand sheep through the brush, and Peace followed them about two miles before finding them.

They were scattered along the slopes of a small creek, feeding ravenously after their long drive. Peace grinned as he noticed that they were branded with a painted cross. It was his band of sheep and they were already dangerously close to the deadline of the Fossilshell.

He knew that there was an old tumbledown ranch-house and corrals just above there in a big clearing, and that this would probably be where he would find the scarfaced herder.

He rode down through the scattered band and crossed the little creek. On the further side he rode through the fringe of brush and came out into the opening. A few sheep were feeding out there and the sheepherder was engaged at a camp-fire beside the old ranch-house.

He moved backward against the house, as Peace rode into sight, and watched him closely. Peace merely glanced toward him and looked back at the sheep. As he turned back his horse seemed to break down on one shoulder and whirl wildly, and from the old house came the whang of a rifle shot.

Peace tried to jerk the horse to a standstill and to draw his gun, but he heard the thud of the next bullet into the horse, which went down in a headlong pitch.

Peace tried to save himself by throwing himself away from the falling horse, but only succeeded in losing his six-shooter and ended up by having his left leg pinned under the animal. It was all done so quickly that he had little time to do anything.

Peace had fallen flat on his back with his leg far enough under the horse to save his ankle but he was unable to move. It was possibly two minutes later that a shadow fell across his face and he twisted his head to look up at the scar-faced sheepherder, covering him with the Winchester.

“I kinda wanted to be sure yuh didn’t have no gun.”