Kid Wolf of Texas Part 31

"Reckon I'm alone now, Kid," he blurted. "Joe was all I had--and they got him! I swear I'll bring those hounds to justice, or die a-tryin'!"

"Yo're not alone, Red," said the Texan grimly. "I'm takin' a hand in this game."

Near the body they found a piece of paper--a significant doc.u.ment, for it explained the motive for the crime. Kid Wolf read it and understood. It was written in straggling handwriting:

I, Joe Morton, do hereby sell and turn over all interest in the Diamond D Ranch property, for value received. My signature is below, and testifies that I have sold said ranch to Gentleman John, of Skull, New Mexico.

There was, however, no signature at the s.p.a.ce left at the bottom of the paper. Joe Morton had died game!

"He refused to sign," said The Kid quietly, "and that means that yo're the lawful heir to the Diamond D. Yo' have a man's job to do now, Red."

"But I don't savvy this," burst out the red-haired youth. "Surely this Gentleman John isn't----"

"He's the man behind it all, mah boy," the Texan told him. And in a few words, he related how he had been approached by the self-styled cattle king, and something of his shady dealings. "He wanted to buy me," he concluded, "not knowin' that I had nevah abused the powah of the Colt fo' mah own gain. Blacksnake is his chief gunman, actin' by Gentleman John's ordahs."

"Where's the other men--the two riders on duty with Joe?" Lefty Warren wanted to know.

It did not take much of a search to find them. One had fallen near the little corral, shot through the heart. The other lay a few hundred yards away, at the river bank. He, too, was dead.

"Mo' murdah," snapped the Texan grimly. "Well, we must make ouah plans."

In this sudden crisis, the other three left most of the planning to Kid Wolf himself. First of all, the bodies were buried. Rocks were piled on the hastily made graves to keep the coyotes out, and they were ready to go again.

The Texan decided to follow the trails left by the stolen cattle, for both herds were gone now, driven off the Diamond D range. Failing in their attempt to get Joe Morton's signature, the outlaws had evidently decided to take what they could get.

There was one big reason why Gentleman John wished to get his hands on the Diamond D. Although land was plentiful in that early day, Red's father had obtained a land grant from a Spanish governor--a grant that still held good and kept other herds from the rich grazing land and ample water along Blue-bottle Creek.

As they started down the trail again toward the broken, mountainous country to the southwest, The Kid sent Red a quick glance.

"Are yo' all right, son?" he asked.

"Fine," said young Morton, now sole owner of the Diamond D.

The Texan was glad to see that he had braced himself. Like his brother, Red was a man.

"We'll soon overtake 'em," old Mike Train muttered, savagely twirling the cylinder of his ancient .45. "Blacksnake's gang can't make fast time with those steers. He's probably drivin' 'em to Gentleman John's headquarters at Agua Frio."

"Why," asked Kid Wolf slowly, "do they call that hombre 'Blacksnake'?"

"Because he carries one with him--that's how he got his name," spoke up Lefty Warren. "He's a whipper. He's beaten more'n one Mex to death with it, and they say a white man or two. He can handle a blacksnake like a demon."

Kid Wolf smiled grimly. To have Blacksnake McCoy for an enemy was by no means a pleasant thing to think about, especially when the desperado was backed by all the power that his employer--Gentleman John--possessed. And yet The Kid was afraid of neither of them.

"It's sh.o.r.e great of yuh to help us this way," Red told him. "But I'm afraid we haven't a chance. If Gentleman John is behind all this, we're buckin' mighty big odds."

"I like a game like that," said The Kid. "Unlike pokah, it's perfectly legitimate to scratch the aces with yo' fingah nail."

They were soon off the limits of the Diamond D and on the Casas Amarillas--a ranch owned by Gentleman John and taking its Spanish name from two yellow houses of adobe several miles distant. They saw scattered cattle branded with a Lazy J--one of Gentleman John's many brands--but discovered no stragglers from the stolen Morton herds.

Following the trail was easy, and they struck a hot pace down through and out of the gra.s.sy valley, climbing through a pa.s.s and up on a rolling mesa dotted with thirsty-looking sage. For two full hours they rode, while the sun crept toward the west. Their horses were beginning to tire. A line of cedar-sprinkled hills loomed up ahead of them, but by keeping to the plateau they could circle them.

"I think we'd bettah keep to the mesa," The Kid advised.

"But we're about on 'em," put in Red. "They'll see us comin', miles away. If we cut down through those hills, we'll gain time, too, and keep hid."

"It's a fine place to be trapped in," mused the Texan. "Well, Red, yo'

know this country, an' I don't, so use yo' own judgment."

Against the far horizon they could make out a faint yellow haze--dust from the trampling hoofs of many cattle. They could cut off a full mile by riding down into the cedars, and Red decided to do so. The Kid was dubious, but said nothing more. If Blacksnake had a rear guard of any kind, they might have been sighted. In that case, they would run into trouble--ambushed trouble.

Kid Wolf rode in the lead, the three others drumming along behind him.

He was grimly wary. A chill gust of wind hit them, as they entered the depths of the notch between the hills. The straggling growth of cedars and stumpy evergreens loomed up ahead of them, and they crashed through. For several hundred yards they tore their way and found their pace slowed by the difficult going. The trees began to thin out. Then they heard a spring tinkling down among the red rocks, and the cedars began to thicken again, as the little canyon narrowed and climbed steeply.

"Stick 'em up!"

Kid Wolf fired at the sound of the voice while the loud shout was still echoing. His double draw was lightning fast. Before the others knew what was taking place, his two guns had flashed. At the dull boom of the twin explosions, a crashing sound was heard in the brush, as if something was wildly threshing about. Then bullets began to rip and smash their way through the undergrowth. Cedar twigs flew.

With a yell, Mike Train slumped down over his saddle pommel and rolled off his horse. At the same instant, the two others--Lefty Warren and Red Morton--reached for their guns. The thing had happened so quickly that until now they had not thought of drawing their weapons.

But Kid Wolf stopped them.

"Don't pull 'em, boys!" he cried. And at the same time, he dropped both his own guns. It was a surprising thing for the Texan to do, but his mind had worked quickly. His sharp eyes had taken in the situation. They were covered, and from all sides. His first quick shots had brought one man down, but there were at least six others, and all were behind shelter and had a deadly drop. If The Kid had been alone, he would, no doubt, have shot it out there and then, using his own peculiar tactics. But he had the others to think of. If they touched their guns, they would be killed instantly.

The Texan's doubts had been well founded. They should have kept to the mesa top. They had jumped into a trap. Surrender was the only thing to do now, for while there was life, there was hope. The Kid had slipped from tight situations before.

Lefty Warren, Red Morton, and The Kid elevated their hands. A low laugh came from behind the cedar thicket, and a group of desperadoes on foot slipped through, holding drawn and leveled Colts. In the lead was Blacksnake McCoy. His eyes fell on Kid Wolf and widened with surprise.

Then his teeth showed through his close-cropped beard in a snarl of hate.

"Well, if it ain't the gamblin' Cotton-picker!" he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed. "I didn't know I was goin' to have such luck as this! Keep yore mitts up, the three of yuh. Pedro, collect their guns!"

A grinning desperado disarmed Lefty and Red and picked up The Kid's two Colts.

"It'd 'a' been better fer yuh if yuh'd shot it out," sneered Blacksnake, "because Gentleman John will have somethin' in store fer yuh that yuh won't like. Wait till he sets eyes on yuh, Cotton-picker!

Boilin' alive will seem like a picnic! I knew we'd get yuh sooner or later, if yuh kept stickin' yore nose in other folks' business."

"Blacksnake," said The Kid softly, "yo're a cheap, fo'-flushin' bully."

Blacksnake's evil eyes went hard. His face reddened with anger, then paled. He was trembling with fury and deadly hate. He turned to his men.

"Take the others up to the Yellow Houses and wait for me there," he rasped. "Pedro, my whip's on my pony; bring it to me. I'm havin' this out with Cotton-picker, alone! When I'm through with him, I'll bring him on up. One of yuh ride up to the herd and tell Slim to let Gentleman John know we've got 'em. He'll finish with Cotton-picker when I'm done with him. Savvy?"

A blacksnake was brought to McCoy, and the others roughly surrounded Lefty and Red, herding them through the timber and out of sight.

"Take the skin offn him, Black!" an outlaw yelled back.

The others laughed. And then Kid Wolf and his captor were left alone.