W. C. Tuttle

“ EIGHT armed men were eating a belated lunch at the sheep camp when Hashknife and Sleepy rode their jaded horses up to the huddle of tents—and dismounted. They had circled far to the west, beyond the guarded dead-line, to get past the cattlemen.
Under the circumstances it was a foolhardy thing to do; to ride into that sheep camp. A number of saddle horses were tied to the wagons, giving it the appearance of a cattle camp. The sheepmen ceased eating and received them with Winchesters in their hands; a hard-bitten lot of men, who handled their rifles with familiarity. ”

“ They did not want wealth, power nor glory. Either of them could have been a power in the ranges, but they were of that breed of men who can’t stay still; men who must always see what is on the other side of the hill. The lure of the unknown road called them on, and when their work was done they faded out of the picture. It was their way.
Jack Hartwell was in a white-hot rage when he rode away from the Arrow. His own father had virtually accused him of being a spy for Eph King, and his life-long friends were all thinking him guilty of giving information to the invading sheepmen. ”

“ The room was in an uproar, as others jammed into the doorway, trying to get a glimpse of Hashknife; but all they glimpsed was a rider going away from the Totem hitch rack. Whether or not it was the lean-faced cowboy they did not know. So they went back and helped the rest subdue Sleepy, who was making life miserable for everyone concerned. But there is strength in numbers, and in a few minutes Sleepy was behind the bars of the only intact cell in the jail, while the sheriff held on to his jaw with both hands and swore through his nose. ”

“ Thus Sunshine Gallagher, grinning.
“Thank yuh, Sunshine,” said Jack easily.
“Oh ——, yore welcome, I'm sure.”
“What did you expect to do at this meetin'?” queried Marsh Hartwell.
“For one thing,” said Jack coldly, “I didn't expect to be insulted. I know I'm an outsider, but I own a few cattle.”
Some one laughed and Jack turned his head quickly, but every one was straight faced.
“Oh, ——, you fellers make me tired!” roared old Sam Hodges, hammering his cane on the floor. His white beard twitched angrily. “Why don'tcha let the kid alone. What if he did marry the daughter of a sheepherder? ”

“ Shove every rider we've got along that dead-line and kill every sheep and sheepherder that crosses it.”
“That looks like the only reasonable thing to do,” nodded Marsh Hartwell, looking around the room. “Are we all agreed on that?”
Sudden Smithy, the sheriff, got to his feet.
“Gents,” he said slowly. “I can't say yes to that. You all know that I've sworn to uphold the law; and the law has given the sheep the same right as cattle. Legally, we don't own but a small portion of Lo Lo range; morally, we do. I'm as much of a cowman as you fellers, but first of all, I'm the sheriff.” ”

“ The chuck wagon had been shoved into the brush, until only the rear end was visible, and the little clearing in which it stood was so well masked by brush that it would not be visible from fifty yards away on any side.
“How about that for a bomb?” asked Honey Wier, holding up a bundle of short pieces of dynamite, from which a five-inch fuse projected. “That ought to make a mutton stew, eh?”
“That's the ticket,” nodded Vane. “We'll give every man a load of 'em, and we'll blow all the —— sheep back into Sunland in one night. ”

“ Jack sprang to his feet and flung the door open, while in came Honey Wier, half-carrying, half-dragging old Ed Barber, who had been the keeper of the Kiopo Pass.
The old man was blood-stained, clothes half torn from his body, his face chalky in the light of the lamp. One of the men sprang up and let Honey place the old man in an easy chair, while the rest crowded around, questioning, wondering what had happened to him.
“I found him about a mile from Kiopo,” panted Honey. “His cabin had been burned. They shot him, but he managed to hide away in the brush. ”

“ Sleepy slid carefully outside. Old Sam Hodges laughed softly and some one questioned him in a whisper.
“Why?” asked the old man. “Can’t I laugh if I want to? I was just thinkin’ that it would be impossible for one man to stick us up, but it ain’t. I ain’t got no more desire to draw a gun than I have to go swimmin’. That one man ain’t got no more license to keep the drop on us than anything, but he’s doin’ it.”
“Against the law of averages,” admitted Hashknife smiling. “But it’s psychology, Hodges. I’m doin’ this to save my life. If killin’ me would save yore lives, I’d live about a second. ”

“ Then came the spang! of a distant rifle shot, echoing through the hills. It was followed by a scattering volley.
“Somebody has jumped ’em!” yelled the sheriff. “Ride ’em high and keep goin’!”
But what the sheriff had thought was the rustler’s gang was Hashknife’s crew from the sheep camp. He had led them straight through the dead-line unchallenged, much to the wonderment of Eph King. No one even questioned their right to pass, and Hashknife knew that the word had not been passed to let them through, because no one knew that he was going to bring a crowd back across the line. ”

“ Hashknife did not leave his position. Some one yelled a question from the bunk house, and Hashknife saw Slim De Larimore, Curt, Steil and Allison running from the bunk house to the group around King.
Hashknife jerked back and began rolling a cigaret, while his eyebrows drew together in a frown of concentration. He lighted the cigaret and peeked out again. The crowd was still standing around the prostrate figure of King, and Hashknife could hear them arguing over what had happened. Sunshine was talking loud enough to have been heard a quarter of a mile away. ”

“ If I'm any judge of human nature, that long-geared puncher would shoot at the drop of the hat, and drop it himself.”
“Yeah, he's a gunman,” agreed the sheriff. “They both are. And what would two gunmen be doin' around in a strange country, I ask yuh?”
“Which don't get a rational answer from anybody,” said Honey Wier disgustedly. “It's time we went back to the seat of war and gave the rest of the boys a chance to grab a cup of coffee.”
“That's about right,” agreed Marsh Hartwell. “We'll let the sheriff grieve over his lost horse, while we protect our own.” ”

“ There was no relaxation, no admission that he might be wrong in his estimate of Jack. But between his lips came a soft exclamation, which had something to do with “a —— fool,” but only Marsh Hartwell knew whom he meant.
A long train of cattle-cars creaked through the hills, heading for the eastern markets. Back in the rattling old caboose, a number of cowboys sat around a table under a swaying lamp and tried to kill time at poker. ”

“ The sheepmen would be looking for mounted men. Jack knew that they would be just as alert as the cattlemen; so he dismounted and went on slowly, leading his horse. There were plenty of sheep bedded down on the slopes of the hills, and they bleated softly at his approach.
Jack had made a guess as to the probable location of the main camp. It was a wide swale on a little tributary of Slow Elk Creek, where there was plenty of fuel and water, and also a bed ground for thousands of sheep. He led his horse out on to the rim of this swale, where he could see the lights of the camp below him. ”

“ He turned on the sheriff.
“Who's Ed?”
“Ed who?”
“Just Ed. There must be somebody around here named Ed.”
“Well, let's see.”
Sudden frowned thoughtfully. He knew almost every man in Lo Lo Valley by his first name. Sunshine had lived there for years, as had Matthew Hale, but none of them was able to give Hashknife the slightest assistance.
“That is rather peculiar,” said Hale thoughtfully. “In all the valley, I do not know one man by that name. There was old Ed Barber, of course.”
“But he's dead,” said Sudden. “Nossir, I don't know of one man by that name. What's the idea, Hartley?” ”

“ It isn't safe for a woman to be alone now.”
“Jack isn't in jail now. He'd be with her.”
“Would he? With every cattleman in the valley against him?”
“Even his own father,” said Mrs. Brownlee dismally.
“No!” Marsh Hartwell threw up his head. “Don't say that! —— knows I'm sorry for what I've done to Jack. I hated Eph King so much that—well, it made me bitter to have my own son marry his daughter. I didn't realize what it meant, I tell you.
“I'm not against my own son! I've been against him—yes. I'm a big man in Lo Lo Valley. They say that Marsh Hartwell is the biggest man in this county. ”

“ Hashknife looked at him critically. “You were one of Ed Larrimer's men, wasn't yuh, Allison?”
“Uh-huh,” Allison looked around at the crowd. “I'm as guilty as ——, I reckon. To me, this wasn't a killin' proposition. But I'm not beggin'. I knew it was crooked work; so I'll take my medicine.”
“He never killed anybody,” said Larrimer, whose wound was being bound up by one of the sheepmen. “Abe was straight until he worked for me.”
“I'll take care of him,” said the sheriff firmly. “Get me a lariat, Sunshine. We'll make a clean sweep of the whole gang while we're at it.” ”

“ Brownlee wearily. “It is just a grudge fight between you and Eph King—and your armies.”
“You, too, Amy?” Marsh Hartwell looked curiously at her.
“Oh, well—” she turned away half angrily— “There will be a lot of men killed, men who have no interest beyond their monthly pay check. You branded Jack a spy last night; turned him out of his old home because he married a sheepman's girl. That was spite. I'm getting tired of spite and grudges. My husband is up there on your dead-line, trying to kill somebody, because you pay him sixty dollars a month.” ”

“ Old Sam Hodges alone greeted them kindly.
Matthew Hale, the prosecuting attorney, and Doctor Owen, the coroner, had already drawn the jury, which consisted of Buck Ames and Mel Asher of the 404, Cloudy McKay of the Arrow, Gene Hill of the Bar 77, Abe Allison of the Turkey Track and Bert Allen of the Circle V.
Hashknife and Sleepy sat down near the door, feeling strangely out of place. They studied the faces of the crowd and decided that there were no mail-order cowpunchers present. They were a hard-looking, bronzed-faced crew of men, unkempt, heavily armed. ”

“ For a moment both the sheriff and deputy swallowed the story, but Hashknife’s grin reassured them that Sleepy was joking.
“I—I wouldn’t put it past yuh,” said Sunshine.
“After what the sheriff did to us at that inquest, I wouldn’t put anythin’ past a human bein’,” declared Hashknife. “It sure was one dirty trick.”
“Aw-w-w-w, ——!” blurted the sheriff, confused. “I—you two——”
“Absolutely,” interrupted Hashknife.
The sheriff’s confusion greatly amused Sunshine.
“Went off half-cocked, eh?” he said. “That’s the trouble with Sudden. That’s where he got his name; always gettin’ himself into a jam. ”

“ The tall cowboy grinned seriously over his cigaret, as he led Sleepy and Jack to the livery stable, where they got their horses.
“We’re goin’ to take a little ride,” explained Hashknife.
Jack made no comment. Something seemed to tell him to depend on this lanky disciple of the rangeland. Sleepy scowled for a while, but the scowl gave way to a knowing grin. He knew that Hashknife was inbued with an idea. Every inch of the tall cowboy bespoke the fact that he was riding for a purpose. ”

“ Molly was standing with her back to him, looking at something in her hands, while the man stood beside her, looking down toward the corral.
“Company came, eh?” said Jack softly.
Molly and the stranger turned quickly. With a quick intake of breath, Molly flung her hands behind her. The stranger was a middle-aged man, unkempt, with a face covered with black stubble. His clothes were dirty, torn. The butt of a six-shooter stuck out of the waistband of his overalls. ”

“ It was a little four-room, rough-lumber and tar-paper shack, half buried in a clump of cottonwoods on the bank of Slow Elk Creek.
The house had been built several years before by a man named Morgan, who had the mistaken idea that a nester might be welcome on the Lo Lo range. He had moved in quietly, built his shack, and—then the riders from Marsh Hartwell's Arrow outfit had seen his smoke.
Whether or not Marsh Hartwell legally owned the property made no difference; he claimed it. And few men cared to dispute Marsh Hartwell. ”

“ Tell the boys to get their horses, Bill. We’re goin’ across that dead-line to help the people that hate us.” He turned to Hashknife, a whimsical sort of smile on his big face. “I reckon this kinda fits in with that idea of turnin’ the other cheek, Hartley.”
“Sometimes it helps, King,” said Hashknife. “I’ve never lost much by helpin’ an enemy.”
“I never did help one,” said King slowly. “Marsh Hartwell is the only real enemy I ever had. We were friends once, me and Marsh. But I reckon we both wanted to be the big man of Lo Lo Valley, and one of us had to quit. ”

“ About two hundred yards beyond the valise, the two horses jerked to a stop. Hashknife’s horse snorted and tried to whirl sidewise off the road, but the lanky cowboy swung it back and dismounted again.
“It’s a woman this time,” declared Hashknife as he leaned over the dark patch on the yellow road. “That driver must ’a’ been pretty careless to lose his load thataway. Here, hold some matches for me, Sleepy, and don’t let loose of my bronc. That danged jug-head must be a woman-hater.” ”

“ Jack did not stop to knock on the front door, but walked right in. The room was full of men, hazy with smoke. They had been arguing angrily as he entered, but now they were still.
His father was sitting at the back of the room, in the center, while the others were facing him. There were Cliff Vane, owner of the Circle V, and his two cowboys, Bert Allen and “Skinner” Close; Sam Hodges, the crippled owner of the Bar 77, with Jimmy Healey, Paul Dazey and Gene Hill; Old Frank Hall, who owned the 404, his son Tom and three punchers. ”

“ Cliff Vane glared at Hashknife, but said nothing more. Marsh Hartwell turned to the other cattlemen,
“Boys, if this tale is true, and I reckon it is, we’re up against a stiff proposition. The rustlers have likely shoved a lot of our stock half way to Medicine Tree by this time, and they know that we don’t dare desert this dead-line.
“None of us have a title to enough of this range to stop the sheep from occupying it, except by force. We can’t fence against ’em. Now it’s just a question of two evils —sheep or the loss of our cattle. There’s at least nine of the rustlers. ”

“ THE crowd of men filed out to their horses, where they mounted and rode away into the hills. Marsh Hartwell stood in the doorway of the ranch-house, bulking big in the yellow light, and watched them ride away. ”

“ This sure is one place where it pays to keep awake.”
“You are not Lo Lo cattlemen?” queried King.
“No-o-o. We got left here, thassall. Cattle train went away and left us sittin' on a sidewalk, but we ain't set down much since.”
“Don't worry about us,” assured Sleepy. “Instead of soldiers of fortune, we're cow-punchers of disaster. The only time we ever seen peace was one day when Hashknife found it in the dictionary. The question before us right now, is this: What will we do with these two bodies?”
Jack shook his head. ”

“ The crowd was drinking in the Totem Saloon across the street from him, which made him feel more sure that Sleepy was behind the bars. He could see the sheriff at the bar. No doubt they had decided that he—Hashknife—had left Totem City, so they would not be looking for him to show up very soon.
He had made up his mind to go down and stick-up the guards, when he saw Sunshine come out of the office and hurry diagonally across the street toward the Totem Saloon. Some men had come out of the saloon, and Sunshine met them. Hashknife strained his ears to hear what was being said. ”

“ But none of them questioned King.
“This is one of the cattlemen,” he said to them. “He is going back now, and I’d like to have one of you go with him until he passes our lines.”
“Not with me,” declared Jack. “I’ll circle wide and come out away beyond the sheep. Much obliged, just the same.”
“And tell all yuh know to the cattlemen, eh?” growled one of the men, and then to King:
“If one of ’em can ride into our camp, what’s to stop a dozen of ’em from comin’.”
“That’s my lookout, Steen,” replied King coldly. “All he knows won’t hurt us any.” ”

“ The men crowded closer, swearing softly, asking for proof.
“Oh, there’s proof enough,” said Jack.
“You can ride the hills all day between here and Totem City and never see a head of stock. I tell you Hartley is right. We found where the rustlers live. It’s in that old shack down in the coulée near the mouth of Slow Elk. There’s nine bed rolls in that old shack.”
“Good ——!” exploded Marsh Hartwell.
“That’s why the sheep haven’t moved! Boys, it’s a game to loot Lo Lo Valley. Eph King and his gang forced us to guard the dead-line, while he stole all our cattle. The dirty thief!” ”