Part 2

None of Reber’s foremen knew why he had sent for them. Some of them were obliged to ride the length of the valley, but they were all there--Patterson, Jackson, McLeese, Carlin and Franks. McLeese was drunk; not blind drunk by any manner of means, but inclined to be quarrelsome.

Park Reber was out of bed, and met them in the big living-room, a huge place forty feet long and twenty-five feet wide. Around two sides of this huge room was a wide veranda. At one end was a doorway leading out on to the veranda; and there was another doorway about fifteen feet from the corner, on the side. About midway of the room was a big window, and there were two windows at the front end.

Across this front end of the room was a long table and a number of chairs. On the opposite side of the room from the side entrance was a huge fireplace, capable of taking ten-foot logs. Most of the furnishings were of the home-made variety, and the floors were strewn with bright-colored Navajo rugs and the skins of wolf and grizzly. The walls were darkened with smoke and age.

The five foremen came in together. Reber seated them around the big table, he himself sitting at the head of the table, still a trifle pale, unable to use his left arm. At his right sat June Meline. She received several undisguised scowls. Beside her sat Franks of the M 33. At the opposite end of the table sat McLeese, scowling at everybody, and June in particular. He did not like the idea of having a woman at their conference. On the other side of the table sat Patterson, Jackson and Carlin.

Reber’s glance swept around the table and came to rest on McLeese.

“You’re drunk,” he said shortly. “Why?”

McLeese grimaced and tried to laugh it off, but Reber’s eyes bored into him and he coughed a little.

“I wanted sober men at this meetin’,” said Reber.

“I’m sober enough to know what I’m doin’,” said McLeese.

“Not if you had three drinks--and you’ve had more.”

Reber did not wait for McLeese to reply, but turned to the others.

“I brought you boys here tonight to see if we can’t figure out some way to stop this rustlin’,” he said slowly. “We’re losin’ too many cattle to suit me. What’s to be done?”

Patterson shook his head.

“I dunno, Park,” he said slowly. “It beats me.”

“How about you, Jackson?”

“Same as Slim.”

“Same here,” growled Carlin.

“They ain’t hit my place,” said Franks of the M 33. “Mebbe I’m too far north.”

“That may be,” nodded Reber. “But it’s got to stop.”

“Go out and stop old Buck Priest,” said McLeese.

Reber studied McLeese’s flushed face.

“You think they’re runnin’ ’em out this end of the valley, Mac?”

“Priest hates yuh, don’t he? They’re not goin’ over the West Fork pass, and the boys have been watchin’ the Trapper Creek pass. Jack Silver is friendly to Buck Priest. By ----, I’d wipe out that whole ---- gang.”

“There’s a lady present,” said Reber coldly.

“I forgot,” said McLeese. “Anyway, I don’t think this is any place for a woman.”

“I asked her to be here,” said Reber. “When I want yore opinion on that I’ll ask for it, McLeese!”

“I’m jist wonderin’ if McLeese’s idea ain’t worth quite a lot, at that,” said Jackson. “I don’t mean about the lady, but about Priest and Silver. We’ve tried to trap Silver a lot of times, but he’s too much Injun to be trapped.”

“He’s smart,” said McLeese.

“Too smart for you, eh?” asked Reber.

“Oh, I dunno,” flared McLeese.

“You haven’t landed him, and that’s the answer,” said Reber. “He’s too smart. He thinks twice while you’re thinkin’ once. And you object to this lady being here. She’s got more sense in a minute than you’ll ever show, McLeese.”

Both June and McLeese flushed, but for different reasons.

The rest of the men eyed June closely. Perhaps they thought Reber was getting old and that this pretty girl was in a position to get a hand into the Reber fortune. It was an embarrassing position for the girl. McLeese laughed, and they saw Reber’s lips tighten. Carlin kicked at McLeese’s ankle beneath the table, but only succeeded in kicking a leg of the table.

“We’re not gettin’ anywhere,” said Reber coldly.

“No, and we’ll not get anywhere as long as you’ll let Jack Silver and Buck Priest do as they please,” growled Carlin. “Let’s clean ’em out, I say.”

“On what evidence, Carlin?”

“General principles. Buck tried to kill you. He’ll try it again. Silver is a half-breed thief. Just pass the word and we’ll rid the valley of the whole brood.”

“Meanin’,” said Reber slowly, “that Silver is too smart for you to catch red-handed, eh?”

“If yuh want to put it that way--yes.”

“You think he bunches up cattle and takes ’em through the Trapper Creek pass and sells ’em in Clear Valley?”

“Cinch. We can’t get any evidence in Clear Valley. We’ve tried it often enough.”

“That gang over there will take stolen cattle, that’s a cinch,” said Jackson. “You’d never get any evidence if yuh went there in a gang--and one or two men would soon be wiped out. They’re pretty clannish.”

Reber nodded slowly. He knew Jackson was right. Suddenly there came the slither of a moving body, and they turned toward the big window about ten feet beyond them. Just inside the window stood Jack Silver, his left shoulder resting against the wall, his two thumbs hooked over his belt.

For several moments no one spoke. Silver laughed, and his teeth flashed white in the light from the hanging lamp in the center of the room. He seemed to be resting lazily against that shoulder, but every man at that table knew he could draw and shoot quicker than any of them.

“Gentlemen, Mr. Silver himself,” said Reber slowly.

The men glanced at Reber curiously, but turned back to Silver.

“You sent for me,” said Jack.

Reber nodded.

“Yeah, I sent for yuh, Silver. Slim, will you get a chair for Mr. Silver?”

Slim Patterson started to get up, but Silver halted him.

“I’ll stand up,” he said slowly, smiling again. “Since when did the Reber outfits start havin’ squaws at their council?”

June straightened in her chair, her eyes flashing. Silver’s laugh was almost an insult. Reber did not look at her. McLeese grinned in evident enjoyment.

“Silver,” said Reber firmly, “you’re deliberately tryin’ to antagonize us, but I’ll overlook it. I asked you here tonight to make you a proposition. Will you go to work for me as a foreman on one of my ranches?”

It was like a bomb-shell exploding in the room. The idea of offering Jack Silver a position as foreman! The men wondered whether Reber was losing his mind. Even Silver laughed.

“Make me a foreman?” said Silver. “What’s the idea, Reber?”

“That’s my business, Silver. I’m makin’ you that offer.”

Silver’s eyes swept the faces of the five foremen.

“Which ranch?” he asked smiling.

“Any one you’ll take.”

Silver’s amused glance came back to June.

“Which one is the squaw goin’ to take?”

Reber shook his head sadly.

“You don’t understand what I’m offerin’ you, Silver.”

“Yes, I do, Reber.”

Silver was not smiling now and he had shoved away from the wall.

“You’re tryin’ to buy me off--tryin’ to get me to work for you. You’re afraid of me, Reber. I dunno why, but yuh are. Your men watch me day and night. I’m tired of it, but not so tired that I’ll take a job with you. You hate me because I’m half Cheyenne.

“You ran my people out of Tomahawk Valley, Reber. I know your story--know why you hate my people. I had a little herd of cattle started, but you and your men killed ’em off to keep me from being a cattleman. I’ve no cause to love you. I don’t want your job. Give it to the squaw.”

He flung his left leg across the windowsill, and before any one could say anything further, he disappeared. Patterson sprang to his feet, and the other men were behind him, but Reber stopped them.

“Sit down,” he ordered. “He’s done no wrong.”

“The dirty half-breed!” snarled McLeese.

June Meline was on her feet, her hands on the table, as she leaned forward, staring at the window where Silver had disappeared. He had taunted her, called her a squaw! But there was something romantically wild about this tall, slim, white-toothed young man who defied them. He had laughed at them and refused to work for Park Reber.

“The trouble is,” Reber was speaking, “yo’re all afraid of Jack Silver.”

June turned quickly to Reber.

“I’m not,” she declared.

Reber smiled at her.

“You’re not, June?”

“Not a bit. I’ll bet I could trap him.”

Several of the men laughed aloud.

“He’d steal you,” declared McLeese, and then laughed at his own statement.

“You think you could, eh?” said Reber slowly. “I wonder.”

“Ridiculous,” declared Jackson.

Reber leaned on the table looking at June, studying her keenly. Suddenly he struck the table with his clenched fist.

“I’ll do it!” he exclaimed. “June, beginnin’ tomorrow you’ll be a ranch-foreman for the Diamond R.”

He looked around at the hard-bitted faces of his men, who were looking at him, wondering whether he was in his right mind.

“What ranch?” asked McLeese.

Reber shifted his eyes to McLeese.

“The Two Bar X.”

McLeese’s ranch. He shut his jaws tightly and looked at Reber. He knew it meant that Reber was going to fire him.

“That’s a ---- of a note!” he snorted.

“I run my ranches to suit myself, McLeese.”

Reber reached in his pocket and took out a wallet, from which he counted out several bills. He handed them to McLeese.

“That’s yore pay up to the first of the month, McLeese.”

“And I’m through right now, eh?”

“Yeah, right now.”

“All right,” McLeese got to his feet unsteadily. “I’ve got some personal stuff at the ranch and I’ll go get it.”

Reber nodded, and they watched McLeese leave the house. None of the other men made any comment. For several moments after McLeese was gone Reber stared silently at the door. Then:

“I think that’s all boys. Goodnight.”

He got to his feet and June walked from the room with him. The men looked curiously at him, and went out.

“I need a shot of liquor,” said Patterson dryly. “Personally, I think the old man is losin’ his mind.”

“He’s as crazy as a bedbug!” snapped Carlin. “Offers a job to Jack Silver, and then gives it to a ---- woman! I’ll take a drink with yuh.”

* * * * *

Park Reber wanted to go with June to the Two Bar X ranch the next day, but the old doctor vetoed such a move on the part of his patient. Reber was far from well. There was none of his men in from the ranches, so he sent Jud Nelson and Sam Heard, two of his men who worked in Tomahawk, to accompany June.

These men did not know why June was going to the ranch, nor did they ask Reber. They loaded June and her baggage into a light wagon, kicked off the brake and drove out of town. It was nearly thirty miles to the Two Bar X, and the roads were none too good. June occupied the back seat, and with the rattle and lurch of the vehicle there was little opportunity for conversation. The two men devoted themselves exclusively to chewing tobacco and keeping the wagon on the road.

At the forks of the river, about twelve miles south of town, they saw Slim Patterson and two of his cowboys. The road passed close to the Half-Wheel ranchhouse. Slim waved at them, but they did not stop. They took the right-hand road, which led to the Two Bar X. There were no bridges, and the river crossings were almost deep enough to float the wagon.

About three miles south of the Half-Wheel ranch they passed the mouth of Trapper Creek, One of the men told her it was Trapper Creek, and she knew that Jack Silver’s place was somewhere between the West Fork and the mountains.

June was still in somewhat of a daze over her new job. She didn’t know a thing about cattle; she knew nothing about running a ranch. But Reber had told her merely to use her head. He was the real head of all the ranches, and he would see that she learned the game. Not that Reber intended keeping her at the Two Bar X. He was not crazy. But he was willing to grasp at any straw to stop the cattle rustling. If June could figure out a way to trap Silver it would be worth many dollars to the Diamond R and he was going to give her a chance.

He knew the temper of his men, knew that the majority of them were against the idea of hiring a woman. But he did feel that any of them would support any scheme she might formulate to stop the wholesale stealing of his cattle.

They had just passed the mouth of Trapper Creek and were traveling through a willow patch in the river bottom, near a ford, when the driver suddenly jerked up his team, almost throwing June off the seat. She had a confused impression of the team’s twisting sidewise, of a man yelling a warning, of the sound of a shot.

She flung out her right hand, grasping the back of the front seat to steady herself. Sam Herd was sprawling forward, as if looking down over the left front wheel, and he suddenly slid ahead limply and slithered over the wheel to the ground.

Jud Nelson’s two hands were in the air. Two masked men had turned their horses in close to the wagon. They were wearing empty flour sacks over their heads, with holes cut in them for eyes. One of them looked down at Herd.

“That’s one less for Reber,” he growled behind his mask.

The one man kept a rifle trained on Nelson, while the other dismounted, climbed up and removed Nelson’s revolver.

June’s face was pale, but she kept her nerve when this masked man turned to her.

“Git out of the wagon,” he ordered gruffly.

There was nothing else for her to do. These men had killed one man already. She climbed down and he indicated his horse.

“Climb on.”

She looked at Nelson, who was looking straight ahead, his lips compressed tightly, both hands held rigidly above his head. June could ride. She climbed into the saddle, hampered by her skirts, and the other bandit laughed.

“Good lookin’ squaw,” he observed.

The other man turned and walked around the wagon to where Herd’s body lay. He picked him up, carried him to the rear of the wagon and dumped him unceremoniously over the tailgate into the wagon-box. He came back and motioned to Nelson.

“Turn around and drive back,” he said hoarsely. “Take all the time yuh need. A little hurry might ruin yore health.”

“And yuh might tell old Reber that he ain’t runnin’ this valley yet a while,” added the other. “The road from here to Tomahawk won’t be healthy for him and his men, so they don’t need to blame us if they git what this feller got.”

Nelson nodded. He was more than willing to get away with a whole skin. He managed to turn the team around in the willows, and started back, holding the team to a slow walk.

The man mounted behind June, but before they started out he blindfolded her with a none too clean handkerchief.

Then they rode out of the river bottom, forded the river and headed into the hills. June knew this, because the horse was climbing most of the way. There was no conversation. The bandit guided the horse, with an arm on each side of June. He had been drinking, but not enough to give him more than a whisky breath.

It seemed to June that they had been riding about an hour, when the horses fairly slid downward for considerable distance, traveled along for a while on level ground and stopped. The men dismounted and lifted June off the saddle, guiding her into a cabin, where they removed the blindfold.

It was a small log cabin, crudely furnished, with a dirt floor. It smelled musty in there. June blinked painfully as she looked around at the two men. One of them secured a length of lariat-rope with which he roped her tightly to a chair. He knew how to knot ropes, and when he was finished there was no possible way for June to escape. The other man inspected the knots and nodded his approval.

“That’s the old Injun knot,” he growled. “No squaw ever wiggled loose from one like that.”

The other laughed.

“You’ll stay here quite a while,” he told June. “No use to yelp. There ain’t a man within miles of here. When Jack Silver does a job, he does it well. Park Reber can hunt and be ---- to him, but he’ll never find yuh. We’re goin’ away, but we’ll be back tonight some time and bring some feed for yuh.”

They turned abruptly and left the cabin, closing the door behind them. June heard the creak of their saddles and the sound of the horses walking away. She tried to loosen her bonds, but she soon found that there was nothing to do but to sit and wait.

She wanted to cry, to scream for help. But she knew that it would not help matters in the least. She was going to need all her nerve. She wondered what Park Reber would do. What could he do, she wondered? It might take them weeks to find her. Jack Silver had outwitted him again.

She wondered whether one of these men was Silver. Neither looked like the man who had taunted her. They were not so tall and slim as Silver.

It was, possibly, thirty minutes after the departure of the two men when she heard the soft _plop-plop_ of a horse’s hoofs. She listened intently. The horse had stopped near the cabin door, and she heard a footstep.

Suddenly the door was flung open and a man stood in the opening--a tall, slender man. She was looking against the light and could not see his features, but she knew it was Jack Silver.

He came slowly in and stood looking down at her.

“Reber’s squaw, eh?” he said softly.

June shut her lips tightly, refusing to reply. He walked back to the door and looked around. Beyond him she could see his tall black horse looking toward him. Finally he came back to her and began taking off the ropes.

It did not take him long to unfasten her hands, and then he dropped to his knees beside her, fumbling with the knots beneath the chair. It was her big chance, and she had the nerve to take advantage of it.

Leaning slightly toward him she reached down and quickly whipped the six-shooter from his holster and shoved the muzzle against his neck. June knew guns. The hammer came to full cock from a twist of her thumb.

Jack Silver did not look up, but his hands came away from the rope. He did not move, but waited for her to act.

“Unfasten that rope,” she ordered, and was surprized to find her voice fairly steady.

Silver unfastened the remaining rope, and she got to her feet, backing away from him.

“Now I’ve got you,” she said hoarsely.

“Looks thataway,” he said slowly. “I hope yuh know that trigger only pulls about a pound.”

“I am not interested in trigger pulls, Mr. Silver.”

“Possibly not. I am.”

June picked up the loose rope with her left hand, keeping an eye on Silver, and then motioned for him to precede her out of the cabin. He made no objection, but his eyes were just a little curious.

June tossed him the looped end of the rope.

“Put it around your neck,” she ordered.

He shut his lips tightly and studied her intently. She had the gun at her hip now, and the hammer was still cocked. He shrugged his shoulders and smiled thinly.

“Single-handed lynchin’?” he asked.

June shook her head firmly.

“I’m not your judge, Jack Silver. But you’re going to guide me to the Two Bar X ranch, you know. You’ll walk ahead with the rope around your neck and I’ll ride your horse.”

Jack Silver laughed softly as he put the loop around his neck.

“So that’s your game, eh?” he said amusedly. “You’ve got a lot of nerve for a woman. I never knew that pretty women had nerve. That’s how yuh won old man Reber, eh? Pretty girl with plenty nerve. Oh, he’s worth winnin’. He’s got nobody to leave his money to--no relatives. And he’s got plenty money. I heard he had made you a foreman.”

Silver threw back his head and laughed.

June had a notion to yank the loop tight and choke off that laugh.

“You’ll laugh different when I get you to the Two Bar X,” she promised him.

He sobered suddenly.

“That’s right,” he said quickly. “They don’t like me. But what I’d like to know is what you were doing in this cabin all tied up like that?”

“How did you know I was in that cabin?” she retorted.

“I didn’t. I saw two men riding away from here, so I came to investigate. Where most men are my enemies, I kinda look at things, yuh know.”

“You lie!”

Silver’s eyes narrowed with sudden anger.

“You know you lie,” said June hotly. “You and your men knew I was going to the Two Bar X today. You had them stop us, and they killed a man--Sam Herd. You had them bring me to this place. That’s how you knew I was here. Now I’m going to take you to the Two Bar X and turn you over to the men. You’re responsible for the death of Sam Herd, and if Park Reber’s men don’t hang you the law will!”

Silver turned his head away and stared off across the hills.

“Your men won’t be back for quite a while so you don’t need to look for them,” said June. “How far is it to the Two Bar X?”

“About three miles,” said Silver slowly. “You better let the hammer down on that gun before yuh mount. Don’t be afraid of that horse--he’s gentle enough. Compadre! Stand still and let the squaw get on.”

June managed to get into the saddle without tangling up the rope. She did not dare take her eyes off Silver, and she did not uncock the revolver. June was taking no chances.

“Now you take me straight to the Two Bar X ranch,” she ordered, “and don’t try any tricks.”

“You are a very, very smart young lady,” he said seriously. “And I am not going to try and trick yuh.”

* * * * *

About the time that June and Jack Silver were leaving for the Two Bar X ranch, a rider came through the gate of the S Bar P; a rider who swayed down along the fork of his saddle, a limp arm hanging on each side of the horse’s neck.

The rider was Harry O’Steen, one of Buck Priest’s men--a red-headed, freckled cowboy; a laughing, rollicking sort of person, whose disposition did much to keep up the morale of the S Bar P.

Buck Priest was sitting on the ranchhouse porch talking with “Rowdy” Dow, another of his cowboys, when the horse came in. They could see at a glance that O’Steen had been hurt, and both of them ran down to him. They eased him to the ground and then carried him to the shade of the porch.

“Been shot twice,” declared Rowdy. “Gawd A’mighty, he’s all shot to strings!”

Buck Priest nodded shortly and knelt beside O’Steen, who was trying to talk. Rowdy ran through the house and came back with a dipper of water, which he held to O’Steen’s lips. Ken Mader and Dick Leeson, the two other cowboys, came from the bunk-house and joined them.

“Can yuh talk, Harry?” asked Buck anxiously. “Who shot yuh?”

O’Steen struggled painfully, trying to say something. It came in a jerky sentence--

“Rustlers--got--me--Porcupine--Creek--”

That was all. He closed his eyes, twitched slightly. Buck got to his feet, his old face twisted.

“Uh-huh,” he said softly. “Rustlers got him on Porcupine Creek, boys. Help me carry him in the house. That’s more of Park Reber’s work.”

They placed the body of O’Steen on a cot and covered it up with a bright-colored blanket.

“Saddle up,” ordered Priest. “Take yore rifles along. We’re goin’ to Tomahawk and talk to Park Reber with the only language he understands. He’s goin’ to pay for killin’ O’Steen.”

“That’s the talk,” said Rowdy. “We’ll wipe his town off the map.”

“Four men may not be able to do that, Rowdy,” said Buck Priest wearily, “but we’ll do what we can.”

Ten minutes later the four men galloped from the S Bar P, heading for Tomahawk town. The sun was almost down, and they wanted to get there before dark. About two miles from the ranch the road intersected with the main road, and as the four riders swept around the point of a hill they saw a team and light wagon coming from the south.

They were close enough to see that the driver was Nelson, one of Reber’s men. They drew rein and waited for the wagon to reach them. Priest swung his horse across the road ahead of the team, forcing them to stop.

“Hyah, Nelson,” said Priest coldly.