W. C. Tuttle

“ She knew that it was only through a great piece of luck that Rex had been able to kill those quail.
‘If we even had a gun,’ she said helplessly. ‘Perhaps they could hear the echo of it.’
‘But there must be a way out,’ insisted Rex. ‘It seems to be an impassable pocket, but there must be a way. I almost wish we were buzzards,’ he said. ‘They are able to fly out with scarcely any effort.’
‘They are not the only buzzards in this country,’ said Nan.
‘You mean—human buzzards, Nan?’
‘Yes. Whoever shot your horse must know we are down here. They don’t know whether we are alive or dead. ”

“ Nan skinned the birds and they went back into the cave to build up the fire. Briggs had not moved yet, and Rex was afraid he was dead, but he muttered brokenly, as Rex leaned over him.
He did not look so formidable now; more like an oldish man who had been badly mistreated. It seemed as though his head had been battered until it was all out of shape.
‘He is wearing a dress shirt,’ said Rex. ‘Isn’t it queer for a man down here to be wearing a stiff-bosom shirt? ”

“ Coyote Cañon was not an inviting place. Nan had heard her father say that at some remote time an enormous quantity of water had rushed through that cañon, tearing out great holes in the cañon-bed. It was a sanctuary for the lion and wild-cat, where men had never made their trail.
It was the short twilight of the Southwest, which lasts but a few minutes after sundown, as they rounded a point on the high grades. Rex was riding on the outside, when, without any warning, his horse plunged headlong to the ground, almost off the edge of the grade. ”

“ Rex did not know what they were, except that they were birds, and birds meant food. Perhaps they had never before seen a human being, because they merely squatted and looked at him. With a side swing of his hand he flung the club into them, killing three and sending the rest in a whirring, curving flight down the cañon.
He secured his birds, filled his hat with water, and started on his return journey to the cave. Nan had dressed and cooked many quail, and she fairly danced with joy at the sight of the three birds. ”

“ Rex watched them, fascinated. They did not seem to flap their wings, but mounted higher and higher. Some of them circled back to earth, but seemed to come back, flapping their wings, as though in haste to gain altitude.
‘What kind of birds are those, Hashknife?’ asked Rex.
‘Buzzards,’ he said indifferently.
‘I tried to count them, but they weave back and forth so swiftly, and each one looks like the other.’
Hashknife relaxed and reached for his cigarette papers.
‘Scavengers, Rex; a big bird who smells death, they say. But I don’t believe it, because I’ve fooled ’em. ”

“ No matter where they find the horse with the body, the sheriff found Morgan’s gun in our corral.’
‘That’s true, Nan. We’ll just have to wait and see how it turns out.’
He turned to Rex. ‘If I was you, young man, I’d head for Mesa City as quick as possible. This is a dangerous place to be found. You haven’t any interests here. I’m just telling you this for your own benefit.’
‘But we haven’t done anything, Mr. Lane. I don’t know anybody in Mesa City—and I’m not afraid.’
‘That’s because you’re ignorant of what it might mean. This is my home. I’m too old to stand trial for murder. ”

“ With a stifled scream she stepped back, staring down at the corpse, looking dazedly at the earthly remains of the man who had been her father’s enemy.
‘What do you suppose happened to him?’ asked a voice, and she jerked around quickly to face Rex Morgan, who had stepped through the gate and was looking at the body.
‘My God!’ she whispered. ‘That is Peter Morgan!’
‘Was Peter Morgan,’ corrected Rex unemotionally. ‘Dead, isn’t he? I never saw a dead man before. He must have been struck over the head, too. Queer, isn’t it?’
‘Queer?’ Nan struggled to keep her voice calm. ”

“ Napoleon drank a full glass of liquor, groped his way to a chair, where he flopped down heavily. His derby rolled off across the floor, and Red Eller kicked it the length of the room. But Napoleon was not too drunk to witness this bit of horseplay, and his hand groped drunkenly for the butt of his six-shooter. But after several ineffectual efforts to draw the gun, he made a gesture of despair, slumped down in the chair and began snoring.
‘If he’d been sober, he’d have killed you, Red,’ declared Spike.
‘If he’d been sober, I wouldn’t have kicked the hat.’
‘Hell!’ snorted Ed Jones. ”

“ Two horses, riding rigs, clothes, guns, and a few dollars were all they ever had.
‘Yuh can’t take anythin’ with yuh,’ Hashknife had often said when Sleepy remarked about their financial returns.
‘The farther we go, the less chance we have of livin’ to a ripe old age; so what good is the money? I’d rather give while I’m alive to see the happiness it brings. And if we had a lot of money, we wouldn’t know what in hell to spend it for.’
Hashknife debated over Sleepy’s resume of the case. ”

“ The old man filled his pipe and smoked slowly for a while, stealing an occasional glance at Rex. Finally he got to his feet, stretched wearily.
‘I dunno,’ he said, as though talking to himself. ‘Soft-handed tenderfoot and a nester’s daughter. I had hopes she’d pick a man.’
Then he went slowly into the house, leaving Rex to wonder what he meant. He looked at his hands. They were undeniably soft, but just now not very clean. Finally he went back through the house and stood in the doorway between the living-room and kitchen, watching Nan prepare a meal. ”

“ He wore no vest, no necktie, and his old brown coat showed evidences of its long vacation inside a war-bag. His overalls were glaringly new, tucked inside a pair of high-heel boots, which emitted an unmistakable odor of stove polish. Inside the waist-band of his overalls, the butt of it reposing against the lower end of his shirt-bosom, was a heavy Colt revolver.
And Napoleon Bonaparte Briggs was drunk. It was seldom that Briggs ever came to Mesa City on a drunk, and no one had ever seen him dressed in this manner. ”

“ He was riding the rump of the gray, his feet drawn back as far as possible to escape the brush.
Slipping and sliding, careening from side to side, the tall gray took him safely to the bottom of the cañon, where he dismounted. He had lost Morgan’s trail, and there did not seem to be any way of recovering it. The bottom of the cañon at this point was a jumble of broken sandstone, boulders, and brush, which seemed an impassable barrier to man and beast; but Hashknife knew there must be a way out. ”

“ Cañonville rather amazed him: the architecture, the dusty street, all horse-drawn vehicles, wide-hatted men. Rex knew nothing of the cattle country. The stage office sign caught his eye, and he remembered that he must ride by stage to Mesa City. He had made up his mind to find the man who had sent that seventy-five-dollar check.
‘Shore, yuh can ride to Mesa City,’ said the nondescript ‘Bunty’ Smith, who, with the able assistance of Joe Cave, piloted the stage between Cañonville and Mesa City. ”

“ I have never harmed any one in my life, except the clothing clerk in Northport, Spike Cahill, and the crazy man. And they couldn’t really hold any grudge for that, because it was in self-defense. Queer country out here. Somebody always trying to kill somebody else. But I—I like it, Nan.’
She did not reply. After a few moments he turned his head and looked at her. She was leaning against a rock, sound asleep, her hands folded in her lap. He sighed and shifted to a more comfortable position.
It was nearly dark when something awoke Rex. ”

“ It was nothing.’
‘But if it was known, we would both go to jail for a long time.’
Rex shuddered slightly. ‘Is that a fact, Nan?’
‘Yes—we must never tell. The law would blame us equally with the one who killed him.’
‘Well, that is all right. I—I mean—it does matter. You see, I don’t want anything to happen to you. I never did touch a dead man before, and my head hurts now, but it is all right. You see, I—I——’
His hands slipped off the fence and he fell in a heap at her feet. Quickly she knelt in the dust of the corral and took his head in her lap. His face was bloodless. ”

“ Another bullet plucked at the sleeve of his shirt, and the third one struck a rock behind him and went zeeing off through the brush.
‘Stop shootin’, you damn fool!’ yelled a voice. ‘That ain’t old man Lane; that’s the crazy jigger!’
Then it seemed to Rex that cowboys came smashing through the brush from every direction. He did not move, as they came up to him. It seemed that they were all swearing at him. Spike Cahill faced him, breathing heavily, purple from the hard run.
‘So you’re the jigger who busted through the winder, eh?’ snarled Spike. ”

“ I’m owner of the 6X6 now, and I don’t mind a nester.’
‘It is nice of you to make us that offer,’ said Nan.
‘Nothin’ of the kind; I need yuh. Let me know what yuh decide to do. Well, I’ll see yuh later.’
Dave Morgan tipped his sombrero and rode away, while Rex essayed an awkward dance on the half-cleaned rug. He was enthused over a chance to get a job. But Nan did not share his enthusiasm.
‘Why, Nan, he’s all right,’ said Rex. ‘He’s so different from what he was the last time he was here.’
‘Very much different,’ said Nan seriously. ‘I can’t trust men who suffer such great changes. ”

“ That meat don’t make a very pleasant odor, does it?’
‘He was cooking it for me,’ said Nan. ‘He said it was horse meat. He picked it up off the dirty floor and threw it on the fire—for my supper.’
‘He may be hungry when he wakes up,’ grinned Rex.
It was well after midnight when Hashknife and the sheriff reached Mesa City. The town was in darkness, except the Oasis saloon, where they found only Dave Morgan and Jack Fairweather, discussing business, while the bartender rested his elbows on the bar as he perused a dog-eared book. ”

“ I don’t. I doubt if there is a man in this country who could get out of here at night. We’ll just have to make the best of it, and be thankful we are alive. To-morrow, if a lion don’t claw us or a rattler bite us, we may find a way out.’
‘You are joking, Nan.’
‘I’d like to agree with you, Rex. Come on.’
It was difficult traveling over the rocks in the half-light, but they reached the bottom of the cañon with a few extra bruises. There were huge, whitened boulders in the dry bed of the old stream, relics of a day when much water had poured down through Coyote Cañon. ”

“ Mesa City liquor was powerful stuff, and after a few moments the effects of the drink brought a pleasant glow to its owner.
‘Feelin’ better?’ asked the bartender.
‘Wonderful. What was in it?’
‘God only knows. For some men it’s full of fights; for some it’s full of songs. Didn’t yuh ever take a shot of hooch before?’
‘No, sir.’
‘I reckon you’ve been raised by hand,’ sighed the bartender. ‘Have another?’
Rex did. Hashknife was standing beside the doorway, listening for Red Eller to come back with the doctor, and he turned to watch Rex take his second drink. ”

“ Rex was lying on his side, facing them. He was still bewildered, but unable to move. The man in the mask rolled a cigarette, but discovered that he would have to move his mask aside in order to smoke, and tossed the unlighted cigarette aside.
He made no mention of the cave, and Nan decided that he had not discovered it. For possibly five minutes they sat there silently. At times the man leaned forward, rubbing his face through the handkerchief, as though unable to arrive at a decision. At times he turned his head and looked at the buzzards, which were circling about. ”

“ The knockout was so complete that after a moment, Spike sagged sideways and sprawled flat on his face.
Rex stepped back, rubbing his knuckles on his thigh.
‘Bat him over the head with a gun,’ advised Dave Morgan.
‘No, yuh don’t!’ snapped Dell Bowen. ‘Spike got what was comin’ to him. This poor fool ain’t got brains enough to fool us intentionally. He likely got scared and took to the window. And we didn’t have sense enough to leave somebody at the house to see that it wasn’t a trick.’
Spike rolled over and sat up. He was still hazy and Red Eller helped him to his feet. ”

“ No, I don’t consider it murder, Dave.’
‘But Lane took his gun and horse. Yuh might at least arrest him for stealin’ the horse,’ said Spike.
‘Do you know he took the horse?’
‘Well, the horse is gone, ain’t it?’
‘Does that prove Lane took it?’
‘Oh, hell!’ snorted Spike. ‘You talk in circles and ask questions all the time. C’mon, Bert.’
Bert was willing to leave, and a few minutes later Dave Morgan and Cal Dickenson left the saloon.
In the meantime Nan Lane had put a fresh bandage on Rex Morgan’s head, and he sprawled back in a rocker, watching her working around the room. ”

“ Dave explained to Fairweather what had taken place at the Lane ranch, but the gambler had no suggestions to offer.
‘I’ll ride down in the mornin’ and collect the guns,’ offered Spike. ‘I’m not scared. They said we could have ’em in daylight.’
Red Eller and Ed Jones decided that they wanted to play a little poker, and Dave Morgan wanted to go home; so Dave went away alone. Others drifted in and the games filled up, while Napoleon Bonaparte Briggs slept off his jag, and awoke with a stiff neck and the disposition of a grizzly. ”

“ He picked Nan up in his arms and placed her in the saddle.
‘I’ll give yuh a leg up, Rex,’ he said. ‘You ride behind Nan. Ghost is broke to ride double.’
‘But you can’t walk all the way,’ protested Nan.
‘Can’t I? Shucks, I could walk to the moon right now.’
He helped Rex on behind the saddle, and they went on up the winding grades, while Nan told Hashknife the story of what had happened to them from the time some one shot Rex’s horse until they left the masked man on the mesa.
‘I thought you’d see the buzzards,’ said Rex. ”

“ It was Lem Sheeley, the fat sheriff. She stepped out on the porch and met him, leaving the door partly open. Rex heard her call him by name, and heard him ask her if she had seen any strangers around.
‘Bunty Smith had a passenger yesterday,’ explained Lem. ‘The stage busted down at this end of the Coyote grades and Bunty sent this stranger to Mesa City after help. But he never got to town, and Bunty spent the night out there, waitin’ for him to come back. Now, we can’t find the stranger nor Bunty’s horse.’
‘I guess I’ve got the man you are looking for, Mr. Sheeley,’ said Nan. ”