W. C. Tuttle

“ But first of all I want to have a talk with Billy DuMond.”
“I’m afraid yuh won’t,” smiled Angel. “Bill is scared of his life. I told him the old man knew what he told me. He’s scared of Rance McCoy—and I don’t blame him.”
“Not after what happened last night,” said Lila.
Angel’s face flushed hotly.
“You heard that, Lila?”
“I did.”
“I’m sorry about that. But it doesn’t matter, I suppose. I lost my nerve, Lila. It was one of the most cold-blooded games I ever heard about. But that was like him. The man has no conscience, no nerves at all. He’s a born killer. Friendship means nothin’ to him.” ”

“ Chuckwalla opened his mouth widely, blinked his eyes and backed toward the stove, where he turned and began shaking up the fire. Rance walked out to the front porch, and the old cook looked after him, a quizzical expression in his eyes.
“Rance,” he said to himself, “you’re addin’ lies to the rest of yore sins.”
Rance McCoy sat down on the steps of the old ranch-house which had been his home for eighteen years. There were a few stunted rosebushes in the yard. Near the corner of the house grew a gnarled cottonwood tree. The barbed-wire fence sagged badly in spots, and the weeds grew unmolested. ”

“ Rance McCoy had been a fighter in his time. There were other scars, which did not show, where hot lead had scored him time and again.
He was tough, was Rance McCoy; an old gunman, afraid of nothing—not even of his handsome son.
“Well, all I can say is that you’ve got some damned queer ideas,” said Angel slowly.
“Mebby I have,” said the old man.
“No maybe about it,” said Angel sneeringly. “Lila is of age and I’m of age. If I want to marry her, it’s none of yore business.”
“You think not? Well, everybody is entitled to an opinion. I’ve told yuh about me, Angel.” ”

“ Angel watched the old man win the bet. The dealer’s eyes flashed quickly around the crowd, and he saw Angel.
“Let it ride,” said the old man. “Why don’t some of yuh buy into this game? I don’t want to hog all of it.”
Several of the cattlemen made small bets, as Angel moved around behind the dealer.
“There’s a hundred-dollar limit, gents,” said Angel easily.
Old Rance looked at Angel quizzically.
“Hundred dollars, eh?” he queried. “That’s too slow.”
“It’s shore too heavy for me,” laughed Jim Langley. “I’m limited to five-dollar bets myself. Rance is the only millionaire around here.” ”

“ Lila had been away to school for five years, and had returned a beautiful young lady, fit to turn the head of any man in the country. She was not his sister, and he could conceive of no reason why he should not marry her—if she was willing. She knew now that Rance McCoy was not her father, and, being of age, could do as she pleased.
Angel rode up to his own stable, at the rear of the Eagle saloon and gambling-house, put up his horse and entered the saloon by a rear door. The Eagle was rather a large place for a Western town, being an oblong room about sixty feet long by thirty feet wide. ”

“ Hashknife had never studied psychology, nor had he ever tried to analyze crime. Born of poor parents—his father had been an itinerant minister in the Milk River country, in Montana—he had had little schooling. At an early age he had started out to make his own way in the world, working as a cowboy, the only profession he knew.
But he had a receptive mind, and in the years that followed he had picked up a varied education, absorbing the things that are often overlooked by other men, more fortunate in their earlier years; studying human nature, but always analyzing things. ”

“ Hashknife and Sleepy went to the hotel and got their war-bags, mounted their horses, and rode southward out of Red Arrow. Some one called to them from the sheriff’s office, but they did not heed. Their work was over, and nothing remained to be done.
“It shore feels good to have a horse between yore legs again, Sleepy,” said Hashknife. “That Half-Box R bay was all right, but nothin’ like Ghost. It’s funny what a simple horse trade will lead to. Kid Glover’s bay picks up a sharp rock, and from there she rolls bigger and bigger, like a snowball rollin’ down a hill. ”

“ What have you done now?”
“My woman!” rasped Angel. “Git away from her, Langley!”
“A woman?” gasped Briggs.
“His woman?” wondered Fohl. “Why, the fool ain’t——-”
Langley scratched a match, shielding it from the breeze. Angel was backed against his horse, one arm flung around Lila, the other hand holding a cocked six-shooter. Lila’s face was bloodless, her waist torn, a sleeve fluttering in the wind. Then the match went out.
“Oh, you fool!” wailed Briggs. “You awful fool!”
“Angel”—Langley’s voice shook with emotion—“Angel, have a little sense. My God, don’tcha know what you’ve done? ”

“ To his right was the right-of-way fence, a steep bank—and the railroad track.
To crawl through this fence and slide down the bank would be a simple matter. And once in the wide open space of the railroad cut it would also be a simple matter for the other man to fill him full of lead. But, reasoned Scotty, the other man might think the same thing, and not expect him to take such a big chance. ”

“ Dell Blackwell was a lithe, olive-complexioned, black-haired cowboy; inveterate gambler, bronco rider, and reputed a bad man to start trouble with.
“I just got nicked for a hundred in yore ecarte game,” growled Butch. “Drew a four and a five; but the dealer turned a natural.”
“Butch had a system,” smiled Blackwell. “Always won his first bet, yuh know; so he slapped down a hundred as a first bet. What’s new, Angel?”
“Not a damned thing, Dell.”
“Have a drink,” growled Butch. “I hear Lila’s home.”
“Yeah,” said Angel shortly.
“Growed up much?” ”

“ Parker.
“Oh, I don’t know,” replied Parker sleepily. “Maybe he don’t know that Angel is a crooked dealer. He wouldn’t expect his own son to steal from him, would he? I’m glad tomorrow is Sunday.”
“Somebody ought to warn old Rance,” said Mrs. Parker.
“Well, don’t try it, my dear. It’s none of our business. If he wants to go against a crooked deal—let him go.”
“How much money do you suppose he’ll lose, Jim?”
“Who—Rance? All he’s got. No, I’m not jokin’. Rance is a gambler, and he’ll bet as long as he’s got a cent.”
Lila got to her feet and picked up the pale blue shawl. ”

“ While Hashknife voiced no complaint, Sleepy knew that the tall cowboy would go through fire to get that gray horse back again.
“We’ll wait until that bronc is able to travel, Sleepy. One more day won’t make nor break us.”
“You mean to say you’d pull out and leave some danged thief to own Ghost?”
“Well, it—it can’t be helped, Sleepy. It would take a long time to hunt down a horse-thief in this country. We’ll rest up until tomorrow and then head for Arizona.”
“We will like hell! We’ll head for the Half-Box R ranch and find out who owns that crowbait.” ”

“ With a flip of his fingers he turned over the old man’s cards—six and a deuce; a total of eight. For several moments he stared at his father. If he had stood on his original fifteen, he would have won the money.
“Mebby I’ll git a natural next deal,” said the old man. “Gimme my two thousand, and deal for the pile.”
“Four thousand?” whispered Angel haltingly.
“Shore. A natural would win me six thousand.” ”

“ She remembered that old Rance had whipped a cowboy who had slapped Angel. It was nearly a gun-fight. Angel had cut the strings all off the cowboy’s saddle and was using them to braid into a quirt for himself. Old Rance whipped the cowboy, and then paid a saddle-maker to put the strings back on the saddle again.
He had always protected Angel. She had heard Angel talking back to him one day, and old Rance had said:
“All right, son. Some day you’ll be twenty-one. Until that time, you’re a kid. When you’re twenty-one, you’ll be a man—and I’d shoot a man for sayin’ what you’ve just said to me. ”

“ The jar of the shot seemed to shock old Rance to a semblance of himself. He peered at Lila through the haze of powder smoke.
“Lila, why are you here?” he asked hoarsely. “What’s it all about, anyway?”
“Angel kidnapped her, Rance,” said Slim. “He was drunk and crazy. Langley is a prisoner, and I think Angel is dead.”
“He’s dead?” Old Rance limped forward, looking down at him.
Hashknife made a quick examination, nodding slowly.
“I’m sorry, Rance,” he said. “He can’t blame anybody.”
“Let me set down,” said Rance wearily. “Yuh see, they burned my feet tryin’ to make me tell where the money was. ”

“ Old Rance won consistently. Hundred after hundred went to swell the roll of bills in his pocket. The rest of the players merely piked along, causing the dealer little concern. “Rance is a thousand to the good,” announced a cowboy, who had come from the black-jack layout to look at the poker game.
Angel bit the corner of his lip and blinked at his cards. He could ill afford to lose a thousand, and he knew the old man was on a betting spree. ”

“ The door rolled open and a sleepy-eyed messenger stared out at them. He was looking down into the muzzle of a heavy revolver.
“Slip yore gun loose and drop it,” he ordered.
The messenger drew out his gun and dropped it on the car floor. The bandit motioned for the engineer and fireman to climb into the car, but before they were both inside, the bandit swung up the other side and was facing them.
“I—I was asleep,” faltered the messenger. “Thought we’d made a stop at Red Arrow.”
“Lucky thing yuh did,” growled the bandit. “Open yore safe.” ”

“ The Circle Spade had never been a big cattle outfit. Only two cowboys were employed by Rance McCoy. He had never been well liked in the Red Arrow country. Gun-men are usually respected, but rarely liked. They let old Rance alone when he came to town and got drunk, which he did at rare intervals; but never blind drunk.
He could hear Monty Adams and Steve Winchell, the two cowboys, noisily washing their faces at the old wash-bench near the kitchen door, and joking with Chuckwalla Ike. Came a step on the porch, and he turned to see Lila. ”

“ Fohl’s voice was high-pitched, nervous.
“The game is up, boys,” said Hashknife Hartley. “Unless I’m mistaken, Jim Langley is plumb safe. Angel is out of the fight. One of yuh light the lamp.”
“Well, I’ll be a liar!” exclaimed One-Eye. “It’s Hartley, Jess. Go easy. My God, we’re——”
“I’ll light it,” said Fohl. “I’m through; so don’t shoot.”
He managed to find the lamp, and after breaking several matches he lighted the wick. Hashknife squatted on his heels against the kitchen door, his six-shooter leveled from his knee, a grin on his lips. ”

“ Old Rance slowly pocketed the money, after throwing a hundred dollars on the table, and the deal went on. Angel backed away and went around to the stud-poker table, where he laid out the chips and broke open a new deck of cards. The table filled in a few moments. In the larger houses there is a dealer, who merely does the dealing and takes care of the rake-off for the house, but in a place like the Eagle the dealer takes an active part in the game, passing the buck each time to indicate which player is to be dealt to first. ”

“ I’m callin’ yuh Lila because everybody else does.”
“That’s all right.”
They stopped at the Parker gate.
“I’ve heard that Rance McCoy and his son never did hitch very well,” said Hashknife.
“Not very well,” admitted Lila. “They’ve always been at swords’ points, even when Angel was a little boy. Rance McCoy has always stood by Angel, even when Angel deserved severe punishment, but there never seemed any love between them. Even when Angel and I were little, he used to take Angel’s part against me.” ”

“ You wanted to run a saloon and be a gambler; so I gave yuh yore share of the cattle. I sent Lila away to school. It cost me a lot of money to educate her, Angel.”
“I don’t doubt that.”
Angel exhaled a cloud of smoke through his shapely nostrils.
“But as far as you marryin’ Lila—you’ll not,” declared Rance McCoy flatly. “I raised the two of yuh together, and I know all about both of yuh. I’ve heard that you’re a crooked dealer, Angel. Men don’t hint things like that unless there’s some truth in it. Crooked at cards, crooked at everythin’.” ”

“ Nothing was said, but Angel knew that in winning the twenty-five hundred from his father he had caused somebody to have a deep, dark suspicion that there had been something crooked about the game. And this suspicion had been voiced sufficiently to cause the gambling public to seek their games elsewhere.
Angel had made no effort to see the school trustees in behalf of Lila. He did not want her to teach the school. ”

“ Langley and Butch Reimer left the bar together and went across the street, followed by nearly every man in the Red Arrow, impelled by curiosity.
But Angel McCoy was not there; he was sitting on the steps of Jim Barker’s home, trying to argue Lila into agreeing to marry him. But all his arguments were fruitless.
“Well, yuh can’t teach school all your life,” he declared.
“I can if I want to, Angel.”
“Oh, I suppose yuh can. Mebby you was foolish to quit the old man the way yuh did. You’ll never get anythin’ more out of him. I got my share, I’ll tell yuh that. I got more than you’ll ever get.” ”

“ You monkey with Slim and you’ll think the seat of yore pants got caught in the door of a volcano. Lemme tell yuh a few things, Angel. You start anythin’ round here and they’ll take you up on a broom. You’re a bad actor in yore own mind. You may be able to hang the Injun-sign on old Rance McCoy, but to us, you’re just another dirty shirt that needs doin’ up. Yuh play a crooked game, pardner—and that lets yuh out. Now, yuh better trot along home and forget all that talk about ‘gettin’’ Slim Caldwell. I know why yuh hate Slim. ”