Part 6

“Kleig disappeared that night and----”

“I asked a lady-like question and can’t git no answer,” wailed Wheezer. “Where’s that gambler?”

The judge rapped sharply again and glared at Wheezer.

“I told you once that I’d put----”

“Try doin’ it,” invited Wheezer. “I want to know where that gambler is. He’s the jasper that knows.”

“Do we have to suffer all these interruptions from three drunken cowpunchers?” asked Williams angrily.

“Who’s drunk?” demanded Wooden-shoe, and started to get up, but Wheezer drew him back.

“Ar-r-re we goin’ to make this a place of hecklin’ and blatherin’, or do we pr-r-roceed with the inquest?” burred the doctor impatiently.

“Are we sure that this shootin’ was done at the NR ranch?” asked Slim Carey. Slim was very slow in his speech, which was partly muffled by a huge chew of tobacco.

“Miss Cleveland heard the shots,” offered Williams.

Miss Cleveland nodded quickly and waited for him to question her, but the jury seemed to take it as conclusive evidence. Every one in the room endeavored to catch a glimpse of the new ranch-owner.

“Miss Jane Cleveland inherited the NR ranch from her uncle, Nick Ralls,” explained Williams.

There was a shuffling of feet and several talked in undertones. Suddenly a man came worming his way through the crowd. It was a cowboy from the Box-H, and he was excited, as he called to Murtch.

“Sheriff, I found a dead man down in Cannonball Gulch! He’s been shot and looks like he’d been dumped over the edge.”

Cannon-ball Gulch paralleled the stage-road, and was only about a mile from Broken Butte.

“Who was he, Bud?” asked Harmon.

“I dunno him. Looks like a gambler t’ me.”

“That’s the feller!” exclaimed Wheezer. “Name’s Hollister, or somethin’ like that.”

Miss Cleveland had got to her feet and was staring at Wheezer, while she grasped the back of the chair in front of her. The place was momentarily in an uproar.

“That’s the feller that Hardy had the trouble with!” yelped Wheezer. “I’ll betcha----”

“Don’t you go to bettin’ too much!” rasped Murtch, half-yelling his words.

“Order!” yelled the judge. “Set down and shut up!”

Miss Cleveland ignored every one and forced her way to Wheezer.

“Say that name again,” she panted. “Was it Hollister?”

“Yeah--they called him Spade, ma’am.”

“Spade Hollister!”

The girl gasped out the name and stared at Williams. He had heard her, and his cheeks went pale. His fishy eyes shifted quickly to Murtch. There was so much conversation that only those vitally interested were paying any attention to the girl.

The cowboy was explaining to those around him how he had accidentally run across the body. It was not in a place where it would be easily discovered. Chet got to his feet and put a hand on the girl’s arm, as he looked at Murtch and Williams.

“Say, do yuh want me to tell yuh who killed that Hollister?”

Murtch jerked back, as if afraid, but hunched forward again, staring at Chet. Williams grasped Murtch by the arm, trying to gain his attention, but Murtch was waiting for Chet to speak again.

“What do you know about that murder?” asked Jud Reeves.

* * * * *

But before Chet could tell what he knew, there came a mutter of voices, the shifting of feet, and in through the crowd came Leather Kleig and a young woman. She was a stranger to Broken Butte.

Kleig was grinning. He stopped near the center of the room and glanced around.

“Heard somebody say that I got here just in time,” Leather smiled widely. Murtch and Williams were staring at him. He turned and looked at Miss Cleveland, whose face was white.

“I reckon I got here in time,” continued Leather. “I didn’t know that Clay Hardy was dead. Yuh see--” He glanced around the room--“I had an idea that even a lawyer can make mistakes. Mister Williams I’d like to have yuh meet Miss Jane Cleveland, the new owner of the NR ranch.”

Leather indicated the girl with him, and a gasp of surprize went up from the crowd.

“What do you mean, Kleig?” Williams’ voice was hoarse with anger and fear.

“What do I mean?”

Leather leaned forward. His smile was gone now, and the lines about his eyes were drawn tightly.

“I mean that you picked the wrong girl, Williams. You helped the old man make out his will, and you saw a chance to steal the ranch; so you picked the wrong heiress. Murtch was in on the deal.”

“That’s a lie!” Murtch fairly screamed his denial.

Leather turned to Miss Cleveland--

“Did you know Spade Hollister?”

The room fell silent. For a moment she stared straight ahead, and then--

“Yes. Spade Hollister was my sweetheart.”

“And, by ----, Murtch and Williams killed him!” yelled Chet. “I seen ’em together, and me and Wooden-shoe heard the shot!”

“Murtch killed him!” screamed Williams, “I----”

Williams’ confession, or accusation, was cut short. Murtch had whirled sidewise and fired his six-shooter so close to Williams’ side that the report was only a jarring thud.

As Williams fell, Murtch whirled on the crowd like a cornered wolf, but Leather’s gun was spouting lead into him and he went down cursing thickly.

“Good boy!” yelled King Cole. “He’d ’a’ killed like a coyote with the rabies. God! What a mess!”

The room was in an uproar. Doctor Chisholm lifted Williams’ head and Leather crowded in close. Williams was conscious, but evidently knew that he was passing fast. He sneered at Leather and spat a curse.

“Open my safe,” he croaked to the doctor. “Key’s in my pocket. Quick.”

The doctor took out the key and opened the safe.

“The package with the rubber band,” croaked Williams.

He slipped the band loose and peered at the papers wonderingly. What he looked for was not there.

“Look in the safe!” he panted. “Find--paper.”

“She’s plumb empty, Williams,” said the judge.

“Empty?” Williams nodded weakly and peered up at Leather. “I guess you win, Kleig. I might as well tell it all. Miss Cleveland is a honkatonk actress and we got her to play this part.

“Hollister was stuck on her, ---- him! He found out something and came here to ask for his share and to see that she wasn’t harmed. I guess he killed Clay Hardy. He demanded five thousand dollars, or would tell that it was a crooked deal. Murtch shot him.

“Murtch had Clay frame it to kill Hollister in that poker game, but you spoiled that. We were going to buy the NR from--her--for--one--dollar.”

Williams laughed chokingly.

“You know what ruined our scheme, Kleig. Too--many--crooks.”

He rolled sidewise and his head pillowed on his arm.

“It’s a good thing we ain’t got nothin’ to arrest,” said Wooden-shoe foolishly. “We ain’t got no sheriff nor lawyer. What do yuh reckon he was lookin’ for in the safe?”

“I’ll take char-r-rge now,” said the doctor wearily. “And I per-r-rsume there won’t be any inquest.”

The crowd moved back to the street. Ma Coogan was trying to “mother” Miss Cleveland, or rather the one who had been Miss Cleveland, and get acquainted with the real Miss Cleveland at the same time.

Leather Kleig drew King Cole aside and they walked down the street together, while the other three cowboys went to the livery-stable to arrange transportation back to the ranch for the women. When King Cole and Leather came back, the two-seated spring-wagon had drawn up to the sidewalk, with Chet driving.

Leather motioned to him to get down, and then spoke directly to the new owner of the NR.

“Like I told yuh before, ma’am, the ranch ain’t nothin’ for a lady to run. Mister Cole kinda wants to buy the place, as soon as the papers can be fixed up, and he offers a good price.

“Yuh better just stay here at the hotel until it is all fixed up, which will take a week or so. Ma will stay with yuh, of course.”

He turned and put a hand on Ma’s shoulder.

“Yo’re fixed for life, Ma. Miss Cleveland insists that yuh take the money from the sale of the ranch and live easy the rest of yore life.”

“But--but--” spluttered Ma Coogan, bewildered.

“That is true,” replied the young lady. “I feel that it should belong to you.”

“Hurrah f’r our side!” blurted Wooden-shoe.

“Sure, and what will become of you boys?” asked Ma Coogan anxiously. “Isn’t there money enough----”

“We’ve got jobs down in the lower end of the valley,” assured Leather, “and we’ll see yuh once in a while.”

* * * * *

It was two hours later that the four cowboys rode away from the NR ranch. They had gone back to get their belongings, and each man had a bulging war-sack tied behind the cantle of his saddle.

“Now will yuh tell us where we’re goin’?” asked Wheezer, as they halted at the top of a hog-back ridge and looked back at the old ranch-house.

Leather laughed softly and looped one leg around his saddle-horn while he rolled a cigaret.

“I was suspicious of Williams,” he said slowly. “He was too ---- interested, don’tcha know it? They wanted all of us off the place. I smelled a crooked deal.

“Then when they tried to kill Hollister, I knowed he was mixed up in it. Well, I wasn’t so danged sure about any will bein’ made out, so I out-smarted old Williams, knocked him on the head, opened his safe and put the key back in his pocket.

“That will was what he was lookin’ for in that bundle of papers. I dunno what he ever saved it for, ’cause that was what cinched the deadwood on to him. I slipped out of town and headed for Keogh. I didn’t know what luck I was goin’ to have, but----”

“Hold on,” interrupted Wheezer. “Do yuh mean to say that yuh got the will that old Nick made out?”

“Yeah--sure.” Leather scratched a match and lighted his cigaret. “Their will was a forgery.”

“Then why didn’t yuh jist show the will and----”

“Nope,” Leather inhaled deeply and shook his head. “I’ll show yuh why.” He took a legal-looking document from inside his shirt and opened it.

“This is the will that Ma Coogan witnessed. It gives the whole ---- NR ranch to us four fellers.”

“To us!” blurted Chet. “Whatcha mean?”

“That’s what the will says, Chet. Us four fellers owned every danged stick and stone on the NR.”

“Well, but--goshdang it, talk can’t yuh?” croaked Wooden-shoe. “Where does this Miss Cleveland come in?”

“Her name wasn’t Cleveland--not mine wasn’t. Her name was Hollister once. Spade Hollister was her husband. He mistreated her awful, and I danged near killed him for it. Now, she’s married to a good feller and they’re doin’ fine. She’s my sister.”

“Oh, my gosh!” exploded Wheezer. “And you got her to--I getcha, Leather.”

“Yeah,” nodded Leather. “I knowed how yuh all felt about Ma Coogan, and that’s the only way I could figure to fix her up for life. And her money’ll be clean, too.

“I told the whole thing to King Cole, and gave him a list of what we stole for the NR. He’s goin’ to tell these different outfits and see that they take back their stock and keep still about it.

“And he’s goin’ to pay Ma a good price for the NR and what honestly belongs there. My sister will see that it is all done on the level.”

Leather grinned softly and touched a match to the document as he said--

“Ma wouldn’t touch a crooked nickel, but she don’t have to now.”

“Where’s the jobs yuh spoke about, Leather?” queried Wheezer.

“Somewhere,” smiled Leather. “There ought to be jobs for honest and capable cowpunchers somewhere, hadn’t there?”

Wheezer nodded solemnly, as he said:

“Y’betcha, cowboy. I take back what I’ve said about old Nick Ralls. He meant to shoot square, but he never figured Ma in on the game; so we’ll jist call it a misdeal.”

Leather nodded as he pinched out the fire on the remaining corner of the will and crumpled it into a tiny ball, which he tossed aside.

Then, as if by mutual consent, they turned from looking at the old ranch-house and rode out of sight over the hog-back.

[Transcriber’s Note: This story appeared in the June 30, 1923 issue of Adventure magazine.]