Trouble Shooter (1974) (10 page)

Crossing to them, he found a pool all of twenty feet across, the water flowing from a crack in the rocks of an ancient outcropping, evidently part of the same ledge by which Hopalong had originally found entrance to the chaparral. There was plenty of water for cattle, and their tracks proved that they came here often. There were deer tracks, too, and one track that might have been a mountain lion. This was somewhat smudged, however.

Measuring with a stick, Hopalong found the pool to be all of five feet deep and the water quite clear. This, then, was an all-year water hole, but was patronized by only a small portion of the wild cattle. That indicated there was water elsewhere, either easier of access or greater in extent.

No sound came to him but the slight trickling of water and the panting of the dog. Hopalong Cassidy walked back to the house and looked around. Without doubt the killer had never returned to this spot; if so, he had touched nothing. No doubt he was long gone from the country with his ill-gotten gains. But was he? Was he still around or had he just returned?

Suddenly he heard a voice!

Stepping back into the deep shadow under a gnarled old pin oak, he stared toward the opening in the brush through which he had come. Waiting, he touched his tongue to his lips. Shep was on his feet and then, wagging his tail, dashed into the

brush.

He heard the voice again, then a reply, and over the tops

of the pear and chaparral he saw two riders.

Rig Taylor and Pike Towne. He heard Towne greet the dog and then the two men pushed through the brush into the clearing. As Hopalong Cassidy stepped out to meet them he suddenly realized that he very much wanted to watch Pike's face when he

looked around.

The two men rode forward. Suddenly Rig Taylor pointed. "Blazes, man! Look at that!" He was pointing toward the skeleton

of Diego.

Pike slid from the saddle no more than sixty feet from Hop-along and stood staring down at the remains. When he looked up, he started at once for the cabin. His face was cold and ugly. "No need to look, Pike. I can tell you. The one who came out alive was Fan Harlan."

Shocked, he stared at Cassidy, his face drawn. "How... ? How do you know that?"

"Figured it out. They came here after that holdup. Had some kind of a mix-up. Diego threw a knife into Purdy and nailed him to the wall inside. He's still there. When he came outside a third man it seems would've had to have been Fan Harlan shot him in the back of the head. You saw the skull."

"Yeah." Pike Towne's face was cold and hard. "Guess you got it figured. I--I all us had an idea the three were wiped out by the law, or maybe they took out all together."

Rig Taylor stared from one to the other, puzzled and curious. "I don't get this," he said. "Who were these guys?"

Hopalong Cassidy replied. "Outlaws. Pike and I were talking about it earlier. The Ben Hardy gang; they robbed a gold shipment from a mine. They got shot up, but three of them disappeared. Now we know they were killed ... or two of them were."

Taylor relaxed slowly, his searching eyes on Hopalong's face. "So this Fan Harlan is the only one who survived?"

"No, Ben Hardy was wounded and sent to prison," Hopalong said casually. "No one knows where he is now."

Chapter
5

1 here was little talk during the ride back as each of the three was occupied with his own thoughts. What they were thinking Hopalong had no idea, nor was he wondering. He was busy with the problem of the two living outlaws. One of them had gotten away with sixty thousand dollars, the other was alive somewhere and by now might know exactly what had happened. All of which did not spell happiness for Fan Harlan or his sixty thousand, if he still had it.

Riding out of the chaparral, the first thing Hopalong saw was Bill Saxx. The big foreman wore a dark blue shirt and black jeans. His hat was off, and his heavy shock of blond hair identified him at first glance. He was standing across the fire from Cindy Blair.

"No," he was saying, "you're on the wrong track. There was never any Pete Melford in this country. The old man must have been yarnin' or else you got your directions wrong."

"We've got visitors," Hopalong whispered, just loud enough for the others to hear.

"How can you be so sure?" Cindy's voice sounded irritated. "You didn't come into this country until shortly after my uncle was killed--or I don't believe you did."

"What do you mean by that?" Saxx demanded sharply.

"As a matter of fact," Hopalong said loudly as he rode up, "Saxx was here when Melford was killed."

Saxx turned sharply, staring at Hopalong, then from him to the others. It was obvious that he liked none of this. He had not expected to find them in, and if so, not more than two men.

"Saxx wasn't foreman of the Box T, though," Hopalong continued easily. "He was ramrodding Tredway's freight outfit for him. When the Colonel went to ranching, he took Saxx with him."

"You seem to know a lot!" Saxx sneered.

"I just keep my ears open." Hopalong smiled reassuringly at Sarah Towne, who stood wide-eyed and fearful beyond the fire.

Bill Saxx was watching Hopalong, making no effort to conceal the dislike in his eyes. "What business is all this to you?" he said sharply. "What you stickin' your nose1 in for?"

Hopalong Cassidy looked around at him. "Aside from the fact that I want to help Miss Blair, it so happens that Pete Melford was a friend of mine."

Cindy stared at Hopalong, frowning a little. Rig was suddenly alert, and Pike Towne was smiling mysteriously. Saxx was astonished, and then his face seemed to go still and tight. His mind was moving swiftly. Tredway should know this. He had

not suspected--or had he? There was no telling about the Colonel.

"I didn't know you'd been in this country before."

"I never was," Cassidy admitted, accepting the cup Sarah offered him. "I knew Pete in Texas. He wrote a letter to me, asking me to come by, but that letter was years late being delivered. It begins to look like I was quite a bit too late to help him. But I'm not too late to help Cindy Blair."

"Why didn't you say so?" Rig demanded irritably.

"No need to," Hopalong said. "I figured it might be a good thing just to be around and be busy. There would be plenty of time later."

"Well," Bill Saxx snapped, "it's time wasted! There never was any Pete Melford in this country! If anybody would know, I would."

Hopalong smiled, and the smile infuriated Saxx. His eyes narrowed and he glared at Cassidy. "You huntin' trouble?" he demanded harshly.

"Me?" Hopalong's eyebrows lifted in surprise. "I should say not! I'm just a quiet hombre myself. But"--he tried the coffee and found it too hot--"I am going to locate Miss Blair's ranch, and it will be in her hands when I leave.

"No trail," he added, "is so well covered that it cannot be uncovered."

Pike Towne had walked away to the wagon, but now he was back. He was wearing two guns, tied down, and it was the first time Hopalong had seen him wear a pistol. Suddenly Hoppy's eyes sparked. Pike Towne was ready to stand his ground, that was obvious.

That the Box T hands saw the guns and recognized what they meant was also obvious. None of the other hands had spoken, although Carter had been staring with hatred in his eyes, mostly at Hopalong.

Bill Saxx looked the situation over and decided it was time to pull out. He knew he must contact Tredway at once with this latest information, but before he did that Saxx wanted to do some thinking on his own. Just where this left him was important to know; for the first time he was becoming wary of Tredway's

plans.

Right now any move might be disastrous to their plans for the holdup of the Taggart payroll only three days away. Saxx motioned to the other hands to come along and turned away. "Well"--he forced himself to smile--"regardless of trails, lots of luck with the cattle. You've got a tough job!"

"Oh, I was never so glad to see anybody in my life!" Cindy exclaimed as Saxx and his men disappeared into the distance. "They acted so strange! That man called Carter. He was asking all sorts of questions and looking around, and all the time Bill Saxx talked to us, the others were out at the corral looking at the cattle, reading their brands."

"Saxx seemed to think you should have more done," Sarah said. "He should try it himself!"

Pike grinned slyly at Hopalong. "Or have a look back in the

brush."

"I didn't know you were a friend of Pete Melford's," Rig

protested. "I had no idea you knew him."

Pike leaned against the rock and speared a chunk of beef from the pot and listened carefully.

"Well, he had to be careful, Rig," Cindy said. 'Too much talk might have given him away."

"Given what away? What do you mean?"

"Uncle Pete always used to tell us stories about his neighbors in Texas." She was smiling at Hopalong. "Anybody who heard them would know who Mr. Cameron was." She looked to Rig, waiting for him to understand. "Most of those stories were about one ranch, the Bar-20."

"The Bar-20?" Rig Taylor stared at Hopalong. "Then--then you're Hopalong Cassidy!"

Pike chuckled. "Sure he is! I guessed it right off!"

A dark figure rose suddenly from the tall grass under the poplars and glided swiftly back into even deeper shadows. Tote Brown had been planning for a shot at Rig Taylor, but now he knew that he had something infinitely more important for the man who hired him. He was not sure how soon the news would get to him, but he wanted it to be soon.

As he rode, his mind worked swiftly. Suppose his deductions were correct and the mysterious messages came from Tredway? And who else stood to gain by the death of Taylor? Or of any of them, for that matter?

He would take a chance. He would take a big chance. He would see that Tredway got the news of Cassidy's presence at once. If Tredway was his man, then all would be well. If not, what harm could it possibly do? And it might earn him a fat bonus.

Justin Tredway sat at his desk in the huge ranch house studying a carefully drawn map. Had Bill Saxx seen that map, he would have been amazed, for it was a map, drawn in meticulous detail, of the area from Dead Horse Pass to the wash east of the stage route. On the map was marked every depression, every boulder and tree in the area, and Tredway was studying it and thinking.

Once the pattern of a man's life is established, it is rarely, if ever, changed. The character of a man is not a variable thing, but it follows in certain grooves cut long ago in youth. So it was with the man known as Tredway. He had begun by living ruthlessly, caring for none but himself, without loyalty, without honor, and with only a fierce pride in his own skill, intelligence, and personality.

Just as he had left behind him all sympathy for anyone or anything, so he had left behind him all respect for courage. The idea did not interest him, for so many brave men so easily become dead men. He prided himself on his efficiency. That there were blind spots in himself he did not see. Like most men of criminal tendency, he saw only his own viewpoint and had nothing but contempt for the minds of others. He could play any role; in fact, taking on false lives and personalities appealed to him in such a way that he sometimes forgot who he had been for days or even weeks at a time.

It had been a long time since he had come down that trail from Chimney Butte, a long time since things happened there.

That he was here at all was, he understood himself well enough, an act involved to show his contempt.

That trail from Chimney Butte had carried him a long way, but he had come back, and he had found the old buildings at the settler's stopover deserted as he had known he would. The new mines opened were crying for freight, and he gave it to them, and more. He built a freight and stage station and called it Kachina; the town started from that beginning. He had opened a general store and made Kachina the supply point for the mines and ranches. His teams fed on hay from his own ranches, and quiet and safe years had passed.

But lately there had been trouble. A heavily loaded freight wagon had gone off a cliff, killing the team and the driver. The load had been dumped into the creek and he had been liable for it. A hard winter caught most of the cattle in high country, and an unexpected snowstorm prevented their removal. Many of them failed to survive the bitter season that followed, and it was a winter Tredway had spent in El Paso and San Antonio. He returned to find himself nearly broke. A fiercely hot and very dry summer followed and more cattle died and feed ran short.

His bank accounts depleted, bills for feed, three new teams, and wagons coming due as well as various other bills, Tredway turned first to the idea of getting the cattle out of the chaparral. Saxx's suggestion as to grabbing the Taggart payroll had come at just the right time for him. Actually, he had known about the payroll long before Saxx approached him, and at the time he had been wondering how to suggest it to him.

He had no money with which to pay Cameron for the cattle, but neither had he any intention of paying it. Cameron was a

stranger, and he was not going to win any friends around this town while he was getting cattle out of the brush. Moreover, the vague suspicion that he might have had something to do with the death of old Peavey might be worked into something, if necessary.