The Texan Part 7

Tex laughed: "Sure. But there ain't nothin' in buyin' 'em drinks.

I've bought 'em drinks all night an' then some other _hombre_'d step in an'----"

"I'd bet yeh on _that_, too. I didn't notice her fallin' no h.e.l.l of a ways fer you."

"Mebbe not. I wasn't noticin' her much. I was kind of studyin' the pilgrim that was along with her."

"What's he got to do with it?"

"That's what I was tryin' to figger out. But, hey, Cinnabar, how about that drink? I'm dry as a post-hole."

"Fill 'em up, Cinnabar. I'm makin' this noise," seconded Purdy. And as the Texan turned to greet an acquaintance, he caught out of the tail of his eye the glance that flashed between Purdy and the bartender.

Noticed, also out of the tail of his eye, that, contrary to custom, Cinnabar filled the gla.s.ses himself and that a few drops of colourless liquid splashed from the man's palm into the liquor that was shoved toward him. The Texan knew that Purdy had watched the operation interestedly and that he straightened with an audible sigh of relief at its conclusion. "Come on, drink up!" Purdy raised his gla.s.s as Tex faced the bar with narrowed eyes.

"What's them fellows up to?" cried Cinnabar Joe, and as Purdy turned, gla.s.s in hand, to follow his glance Tex saw the bartender swiftly subst.i.tute his own gla.s.s for the one into which he had dropped the liquid.

The next instant Purdy was again facing him. "What fellers?" he asked sharply.

Cinnabar Joe laughed: "Oh, that Bear Paw Pool bunch. Fellow's got to keep his eye peeled whenever they git their heads together. Here's luck."

For only an instant did Tex hesitate while his brain worked rapidly.

"There's somethin' bein' pulled off here," he reasoned, "that I ain't next to. If that booze was doped why did Cinnabar drink it? Anyways, he pulled that stall on Purdy fer some reason an' it's up to me to see him through with it. But if I do git doped it won't kill me an' when I come alive they's a couple of fellows goin' to have to ride like h.e.l.l to keep ahead of me."

He drank the liquor and as he returned the gla.s.s to the bar he noted the glance of satisfaction that flashed into Purdy's eyes.

"Come on, boys, let's git things a-goin'!" Mayor Maloney stood in the doorway and beamed good humouredly: "'Tain't every cowtown's got a bank an' us Wolf Riverites has got to do ourself proud. Every rancher an'

nester in forty mile around has drove in. The flat's rimmed with wagons an' them train folks is c.o.c.ked up on the lumber piles a-chickerin' like a prairie-dog town. We'll pull off the racin' an'

trick ridin' an' shootin' first an' save the ropin' an' buckin'

contests to finish off on. Come on, you've all had enough to drink.

Jump on your horses an' ride out on the flat like h.e.l.l was tore loose fer recess. Then when I denounce what's a-comin', them that's goin' to complete goes at it, an' the rest pulls off to one side an' looks on 'til their turn comes."

A six-shooter roared and a bullet crashed into the ceiling.

"Git out of the way we're a-goin' by!" howled someone, and instantly the chorus drowned the rattle of spurs and the clatter of high-heeled boots as the men crowded to the door.

"Cowboys out on a yip ti yi!

Coyotes howl and night birds cry And we'll be cowboys 'til we die!"

Out in the street horses snorted and whirled against each other, spurs rattled, and leather creaked as the men leaped into their saddles.

With a thunder of hoofs, a whirl of white dust, the slapping of quirts and ropes against horses' flanks, the wicked bark of forty-fives, and a series of Comanche-like yells the cowboys dashed out onto the flat.

Once more Tex Benton found himself drawn up side by side with Jack Purdy before the girl, for whose handkerchief they had raced. Both waved their hats, and Alice smiled as she waved her handkerchief in return.

"Looks like I was settin' back with an ace in the hole, so far,"

muttered Tex, audibly.

Purdy scowled: "Ace in the hole's all right _sometimes_. But it's the lad that trails along with a pair of deuces back to back that comes up with the chips, cashin' in time."

Slim Maloney announced a quarter-mile dash and when Purdy lined up with the starters, Tex quietly eased his horse between two wagons, and, slipping around behind the lumber-piles, rode back to the Headquarters Saloon. The place was deserted and in a chair beside a card table, with his head buried in his arms, sat Cinnabar Joe, asleep. The cowpuncher crossed the room and shook him roughly by the shoulder:

"Hey, Joe--wake up!"

The man rolled uneasily and his eyelids drew heavily apart. He mumbled incoherently.

"Wake up, Joe!" The Texan redoubled his efforts but the other relapsed into a stupor from which it was impossible to rouse him.

A man hurrying past in the direction of the flats paused for a moment to peer into the open door. Tex glanced up as he hurried on.

"Doc!" There was no response and the cowpuncher crossed to the door at a bound. The street was deserted, and without an instant's hesitation he dashed into the livery and feed barn next door whose wide aperture yawned deserted save for the switching of tails and the stamping of horses' feet in the stalls. The door of the harness room stood slightly ajar and Tex jerked it open and entered. Harness and saddles littered the floor and depended from long wooden pegs set into the wall while upon racks hung sweatpads and saddle blankets of every known kind and description. Between the floor and the lower edge of the blankets that occupied a rack at the farther side of the room a pair of black leather shoes showed.

"Come on, Doc, let's go get a drink." The shoes remained motionless.

"Gosh! There's a rat over in under them blankets!" A forty-five hammer was drawn back with a sharp click. The shoes left the floor simultaneously and the head and shoulders of a man appeared above the rack.

"Eh! Was someone calling me?"

"Yeh, I was speakin' of rats----"

"My hearing's getting bad. I was fishing around for my saddle blanket.

Those barn dogs never put anything where it belongs."

"That's right. I said let's go get a drink. C'n you hear that?" Tex noted that the man's face was white and that he was eyeing him intently, as he approached through the litter.

"Just had one, thanks. Was on my way down to the flats to see the fun, and thought I'd see if my blanket had dried out all right."

"Yes? Didn't you hear me when I hollered at you in the saloon a minute ago?"

"No. Didn't know any one was in there."

"You're in a h.e.l.l of a fix with your eyesight an' hearin' all shot to pieces, ain't you? But I reckon they're goin' to be the best part of you if you don't come along with me. Cinnabar Joe's be'n doped."

"_Cinnabar Joe_!" The doctor's surprise was genuine.

"Yes. Cinnabar Joe. An' you better get on the job an' bring him to, or they'll be tossin' dry ones in on top of you about tomorrow. Sold any drugs that w'd do a man that way, lately?"

The doctor knitted his brow. "Why let's see. I don't remember----"

"Your mem'ry ain't no better'n what your eyesight an' hearin' is, is it? I reckon mebbe a little jolt might get it to workin'." As Tex talked even on, his fist shot out and landed squarely upon the other's nose and the doctor found himself stretched at full length among the saddles and odds and ends of harness. Blood gushed from his nose and flowed in a broad wet stream across his cheek. He struggled weakly to his feet and interposed a shaking arm.

"I didn't do anything to you," he whimpered.

"No. I'm the one that's doin'. Is your parts workin' better? 'Cause if they ain't----"

"What do you want to know? I'll tell you!" The man spoke hurriedly as he cringed from the doubling fist.

"I know you sold the dope, 'cause when I told you about Cinnabar you wasn't none surprised at the dope--but at who'd got it. You sold it to Jack Purdy an' you knew he aimed to give it to me. What's more, your eyesight an' hearin' is as good as mine. You seen me an' heard me in the saloon an' you was scairt an' run an' hid in the harness room.

You're a coward, an' a crook, an' a d.a.m.n liar! Wolf River don't need you no more. You're a-comin' along with me an' fix Cinnabar up an'

then you're a-goin' to go down to the depot an' pick you out a train that don't make no local stops an' climb onto it an' ride 'til you get where the buffalo gra.s.s don't grow. That is, onless Cinnabar should happen to cash in. If he does----"

"He won't! He won't! It's only chloral. A little strychnine will fix him up."

"Better get busy then. 'Cause if he ain't to in an hour or so you're a-goin' to flutter on the down end of a tight one. These here cross-arms on the railroad's telegraph poles is good an' stout an' has the added advantage of affordin' good observation for all, which if you use a cottonwood there's always some that can't see good on account of limbs an' branches bein' in the road----"