Читать книгу Johnny Nelson - Clarence Edward Mulford - Страница 5

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AN OBJECTION

Johnny looked forward eagerly to the coming of the outfits for their monthly celebration, and he was not certain that he would not make enemies before the night was over, which impelled him to visit the Bar H and the Triangle while he would be welcome. He had familiarized himself with the SV valley and the country close to the town. Therefore he mounted Pepper after an early breakfast and rode south, passing the shack occupied by the Doc, about two miles south of Gunsight. The Doc was squatting on SV land, had a small corral, a hitching post, and a well. Johnny stopped at the latter and had a drink while he mentally photographed everything in the immediate vicinity. When he started on again he had the choice of two trails. One wound up over Pine Mountain, a high, wooded hill, and was the more direct route to the Bar H; the other followed the river bed around the base of the mountain, and was the trail used by the Triangle. Deciding on the shorter, if more difficult route, he gave Pepper her head and started up the slope. The trail was fair, following, as it did, the line of least resistance and threading through rocky defiles, rocky clefts, and skirting steep walls.

Riding down on the south side he found himself in a deep ravine and when he left it he came to the old bed of the river, and a grin came to his face as he pictured the episode of the dynamiting. Following the dried-up bed he entered East Canyon and found its north wall to be perpendicular and remarkably smooth; the other side sloped more, showed great errosion and was scored by clefts and wooded defiles running far back. Emerging from the canyon he rode over a hilly, rolling range and some time later recrossed the old river bed and arrived at the Bar H ranchhouses. Two men were in sight, one mending riding gear and the other had just fixed the fence around the wall. They nodded, and he asked for Big Tom.

"He's around some'rs," said "Squint" Farrell, whose name had been well bestowed.

"Git off an' set down," invited the other. "He won't be long. Ridin' fur?"

"Gunsight," answered Johnny.

Bill Fraser's eyes were on Pepper. "Ever think of swappin' cayuses?" he asked.

"Not this one," smiled Johnny. "She's too dumb—won't learn nothin'. But I had her since she could stand up, an' she's rapid for short distances."

"Meanin' several short distances hooked together," suggested Squint. "I can see she's dumb—it's writ' all over her."

"I don't care," said Fraser. "I'm a great hand with th' dumb ones. I'm doin' wonders with Squint."

"Shore," grunted Squint. "He owes me so much money I got to do what he says. Here comes Tom, now. He's some touchy this mornin'. Must 'a had a session with them poker deacons last night."

"He holds 'em too long," chuckled Fraser. "He figgers that if three little deuces are worth a dollar, why two aces an' two kings is worth a hull lot more."

"Does sound reasonable," said Squint, "three deuces makin' only six, an' th' others makin'—a king is thirteen—twenty-six, an' two more is twenty-eight. That the way you been figgerin' all these years, Tom?"

Big Tom smiled. "Howd'y, Nelson. What brings you down here so early?"

"Curiosity, mostly," answered Johnny. "That an' not havin' nothin' to do. An' I'm grievin' about them two dollars Dailey took away from me last night."

"Nobody that wiggles away from Dailey an' only leaves two dollars behind can associate with me steady," objected Fraser. "I got my rights."

"Mebby we'll see him get two more tonight," said Squint. "We're ridin' in with money in our pockets."

"An' you'll travel light returnin'," said Big Tom.

"An' most amazin' noisy," laughed Squint.

After a little more idle conversation Johnny pulled his hat more firmly down on his head. "Well, I just thought I'd drop in an' say hello. Any place else to go?"

"Don't be in no hurry," said Big Tom. "But if yo're set, you might get acquainted with th' Triangle—it's only an hour's ride. They'll be in town, too, tonight."

Johnny nodded all around and rode off the way they pointed. He looked carefully at the brands of the cattle he passed, stopped at the Triangle for a drink and a few minutes conversation with a puncher who was saddling a fresh horse and returned by the trail around the eastern end of Pine Mountain, to Gunsight, where he spent the afternoon playing seven-up with Dave, with indifferent success.

Night had scarcely fallen when a whooping down the trail heralded the approach of an outfit. It was from the Triangle and they stamped in eagerly. Dailey, Fanning, and several more of the townsfolk followed them, and it was not long before liquor and cards vied with each other for the honors of the evening.

Johnny, declining cards, and going easy with the liquor, watched the games and became better acquainted all around.

"I'm losin' my holt," mourned Dailey. "Reckon I'm sick."

"When you get so sick you can't move," grunted Hank Lewis, foreman of the Triangle, "I'm comin' in an' take yore clothes. You'll be left like you was born."

"You ain't got a chance, Hank," asserted Fanning. "I live next door to him, an' I'll get him first. Here's a little more to freeze him out."

"No man with three jacks ought to sit in this here game at all," muttered Gardner, sorrowfully. "But I'm trailin'."

"Now that I know what Sam's got, I'll trail, too," grinned George Lang. "Here comes Huff an' his angels."

The Bar H arrived tempestuously. Big Tom's voice could be heard above the noise and he was the first to enter, followed closely by his outfit. He nodded to the crowd and ordered drinks all around. Exchanging a few words with Dave, he approached Johnny.

"Reckon you can hold onto that last pot, Nelson?" he asked.

"I'll do my best," replied Johnny. "I'll have a better chance with Dailey out of our game."

"Let's make up another table," said Big Tom, looking around.

Fraser joined them, followed by Lefty Carson. "I'm after more'n two dollars," he laughed. "Dailey allus did play a kid's game."

"Somebody else is pickin' on me," came Dailey's voice. "If that Fraser'll come in some evenin' I'll try to suit him. Hey, Dave! What's th' matter? Somebody tie you to th' bar?"

Dave's retort was not what fiction attributes to a fat man. He was not genial; he was stirred up. "You go hang! I'm so cussed busy I can't see. I ain't no jack rabbit!"

"He says so hisself!" shouted Squint, roaring with laughter. "If I ever sees a jack rabbit lookin' like Dave, I'll give him all th' trail!"

"Hey, Two-Spot!" yelled Dave, with a voice which shook the bottles. "He's allus around when there's nobody here—but when there's a crowd to be waited on, he flits. Hey! Two-Spot!"

Dahlgren held his hand over the bar. "Gimme a glass of liquor, Dave, an' I'll trap him," he laughed, looking at his foreman, who had forgotten all about cards and was drinking steadily.

Dave looked at him, grinned, and complied. Dahlgren turned, glass held up. "Order, Gents! Order! Less noise! I'm goin' to trap a bum-bum an' have him on show right before you for two bits a head."

The crowd took it as a wager and would not let him explain. "All right, you coyotes; let it go that way, then: Two bits apiece that I do," he cried, and, the cynosure of all eyes, pranced to the door where he placed the glass on the sill and then lay down along the wall, his hand raised to grasp his quarry. Laughing, he faced the crowd. "They are 'lusive animals. Gents; but they can't—oh! ho!—resist th' enticin' smell of——"

Another roar went up as a hand stole around the glass and whisked it from sight. All oblivious to this, Dahlgren took the shout as a tribute to his humor, and when he could be heard, continued: "They can't resist th' smell of liquor, Gents. When th' wary bum-bum scents this here glass of fire water," pointing—he stopped as another roar went up. "Well, I'm d—d!" he grunted. Scrambling to his feet, he plunged out into the night as Two-Spot entered the rear door, carrying the liquor at arm's length. Two-Spot stopped, gulped down the fiery liquid and, placing the glass on the bar, started to serve the card players, his face grave and serious.

The place was in an uproar when Dahlgren returned and he was met by a howling mob of creditors. Shaking his fist at Two-Spot he exhausted his change as he bobbed around in the crowd, got more from Dave and at last managed to pay off. Emitting a yell, he jumped for Two-Spot, grabbed him and began to manhandle him playfully. Others joined in and the sport grew fast and furious, rougher and rougher. Johnny, seeing how things stood, and thinking that Two-Spot was in danger of being hurt, plunged headfirst into the mass of merrymakers, grabbed Two-Spot and, at the first opportunity, threw him reeling toward the door. Leaping after him, he grasped the confused tramp, whispered: "Vamoose!" and then yelled out: "I can't, huh? We'll see!" There was a flurry and Two-Spot shot out of the door as though he had left a bow. Johnny turned and faced the crowd. "Did you hear him?" he demanded. "I showed him if I could, or not. Blast his nerve, to talk like that to me!"

"Wish he'd said it to me," growled Big Tom, whose liquor was making him surly and uncertain. "I'd 'a' busted his cussed neck. This here country is gettin' too d—d independent. That's it—too independent. Th' Bar H runs this country, an' I run th' Bar H," he boasted, resting against the bar. "That's it, an' it's got to learn it. It's got to learn that th' Bar H runs this country, an' I run th' Bar H. Anybody say I don't?" he demanded, looking around.

Just at this auspicious occasion, Squint was unfortunate enough to step on the foot of a man who had little use for him and who, several times in the last few years, had been restrained only by force from carrying out his thinly veiled threats. Wolf Forbes, the deadliest man on the Bar H, more than disliked Squint, and only their common interests had averted bloodshed. Now he snarled and reached for his gun, but found it held in the holster by Little Tom Carney, who hung to Forbes' arm like a leech until others came to his and succeeded in taking the killing edge from Wolf's anger.

Wolf struggled, gradually getting free. "I don't want him now," he panted. "Let go of me! I'll get him when he's sober." He wrestled free and went over to his foreman. "You heard what I said?" he demanded. "There won't be no interference this time!"

Big Tom rocked back on his heels and scowled down at his gunman. "I heard you," he replied. "An' I says yo're makin' a fool of yoreself. I'm runnin' this ranch, an' I'm tellin' you that I'll see that he is good an' sober an' gets an even break, if it ever comes to gunplay between you two. Take my advice, an' forget about it." He pushed Forbes to one side and waved his arm. "Everybody have a drink with Big Tom Huff, th' boss of th' Bar H. Set 'em out, Dave."

They responded, but the soberer heads began to feel uneasy. Dave looked at Dailey, who exchanged glances with him; and at Johnny who, lounging against the further wall near the card players, was missing nothing. Johnny allowed a faint smile to show, and winked at the proprietor, a knowing, significant wink. If it was meant to bring ease to Dave's troubled mind, it failed utterly. Worse than that, it acted the other way.

"D—n it!" thought Dave. "He's sober as a hoss an' cold as h—l" which anomaly did not strike Dave's too-busy mind. "Is he aimin' to get Huff? Is he nursin' last night's play? Here I was hopin' none of th' Double X would ride in, an' Trouble was campin' under my fat nose all th' time! H—l will shore pop at the first shot—they'll shoot him to pieces, an' no tellin' who else!"

The card game died gradually and the players nearest the crowd shoved their chairs back. Dave noticed it and shook his head imploringly, trying by sheer will-power to force them back to the game. He failed, and his fears looked to be justified. Big Tom, turning ponderously, looked at them and then stared as their strange inactivity slowly impressed itself on his befuddled mind.

"Go on an' play!" he roared. "I run th' Bar H—an' Bar H runs th' country."

Dave leaped into the breach. "They can't. Dailey's got all th' money."

"Dailey's got—Ha! Ha! Ha!" roared Big Tom. "He's th' ol' fox. Goin' to shake han's with th' ol' fox!" He weaved across the floor and shook Dailey's hypocritical hand. "An' he's got Nelson's two pesos! Me an' Nelson's goin' to play a two-hand game for th' limit—an' th' winner'll tangle up with Dailey."

That plan did not suit Dave at all. He refilled a glass and slid it across the bar. "Hey, Tom!" he called. "Hey, Tom!" As the foreman turned clumsily and stared at him, Dave held up the glass. "I never thought you was so stuck up as to ask th' boys to drink with you, an' then throw 'em like that!"

"Who's stuck up?"

"Then why didn't you drink with 'em?" demanded Dave, severely.

Huff looked at him and lurched forward. "Beg boys' pardon. I'm with th' boys. I allus drink with th' boys, an' I ain't stuck up!" He gulped the liquor and, spreading his feet, leaned against the bar. "Th' Bar H runs this country, an' I run th' Bar H. I'll learn 'em, too!" He threw off two of his men who tried to quiet him, fearing he would say too much. "I'm all right," he assured them. "I'll learn 'em," he continued. "There's that minx on th' SV. I'll learn her, too. I've been layin' low; but I'll learn her. I'm not stuck up; but she is. First night I called she tried to sneak out an' leave me holdin' th' sack. But I showed her who was runnin' this country. She's a wiry minx, but I kissed——"

"That'll do!" snapped Johnny, the words sounding like the crack of a whip. He leaned forward, away from the wall, his hands hanging limply at his sides. The crowd jumped, and Dave's heart was severely taxed. "I don't know th' woman, but I objects. The Bar H may run this country, an' you may run th' Bar H; but if I hears any more about wimmin I'll take th' job of runnin' you, an' th' Bar H, an th' country, besides, if I has to! I've got some rights an' I ain't goin' to have my evenin' spoiled by wimmin! An' that goes as she lays!"

Big Tom had pushed away from the bar and swung around unsteadily. He blinked, and focused his eyes on the man who had interrupted him, and who spoke about running him. Steadily the meaning of the words hammered at the liquor-paralyzed brain cells, and at last was recognized and understood. His blood-red face wrinkled like the muzzle of an angry dog and the red eyes blazed with murder. Memory tried to inflame him further, and succeeded. He snarled an oath and reached for his gun.

There was a flash, a roar, and a cloud of smoke at Johnny's hip and before the crowd could move they were facing two guns, from one of which trailed a thin wisp of smoke. Big Tom, holding his benumbed hand against his body, looked from it to his gun, which slowly ceased sliding and came to a stop on the floor at the other end of the bar. He appeared to be stupefied.

"I didn't touch him!" snapped Johnny. "I hit his gun. You all saw him draw first. I'm aimin' to make this personal between him an' me—an' so far's I'm concerned, it's over now. But if anybody has any objections, I'll hear 'em." Receiving no reply, he continued, looking out of the corner of his eye at the Bar H foreman:

"Tom, I don't aim to do you no injury, an' you can palaver all you wants, an' have all th' fun you wants, regardless. That is yore right. But I've got rights, too. An' so has all th' boys. An' we ain't goin' to hear nobody talk about wimmin. Wimmin is barred all th' way to th' ace. I ain't goin' to listen about 'em, at all. They lost me th' best job I ever had, on the best ranch I ever saw. They drove me clean out of Montanny, to h—l an' gone. All my troubles have been caused by wimmin—an' you hear me shout that there ain't goin' to be no palaverin' about 'em where I got to hear it. That's flat; an' I got two six-guns that says it is. I ain't holdin' no grudge ag'in' you—no more'n yo're holdin' ag'in' me for my mistake last night. We all of us make 'em, not meanin' to.

"This is a man's town, a man's saloon, an' we're all of us men. We ain't goin' to be follered around by no wimmin in talk or otherwise. All in favor of barrin' wimmin, have a drink with me."

The invitation was accepted, and Dave followed it by a treat on the house. Then he mopped his head and wearily let his hands hang down at his side. He looked at Johnny and heaved a sigh. "D—d if you ain't a he-wizard!" he muttered. "A reg'lar sheep-herder!"

Johnny walked over, picked up the gun and handed it to its owner, slapping him on the back at the same time. "Here, Ol' Timer," he grinned, "take yore gun. She's a beauty an' ain't hurt a bit. Don't it beat all how me an you get all mixed up without meanin' to? I says it's funny—cussed if it ain't!"

Big Tom fumbled at the holster, slid the gun into it, and a grin crawled across his face. "Seems like we are allus buttin' our fool heads together," he replied. "I'm with you, Nelson. I'm with th' boys. Th' h—l with wimmin. They're barred, an' I won't listen about 'em, We're all men—ain't we, boys?"

"I reckon so," said Dave. He motioned to Squint and Fraser, nodding at Big Tom, and then at the door.

"Hey, Tom," called Fraser, "let's go home!"

"Won't—won't go home!" objected Big Tom, lurching forward. Reaching a chair in a corner he fell into it and in a few minutes was snoring sonorously.

Dave slid his elbow on the bar and rested his head in his hand. His pose bespoke great weariness. He looked at Johnny and shook his head in bewilderment. Johnny dragged a chair up to the unused second table, made a face at the fat proprietor, and piled up a sizable stack of coins in front of him.

"Any Bar H or Triangle hombre think they can get any of this?" he demanded, grinning. Four men thought so at the same time; and soon a third game was going on beside them.

Two-Spot poked his face up to the window again and looked in. Then he came in with an air of non-chalant confidence. Having seen all that had happened he believed the stormy weather to be over and if it wasn't, why Nelson seemed to be a friend of his, which sufficed. Dave slid him a partly filled bottle.

"Take it away and don't bother me," said the proprietor. "I'm restin' up for th' next storm."

Two-Spot looked around. "You can go to sleep, Dave," he said. "I'll tend bar for you. There won't be no more. My friend over there is like his black cayuse—everythin' in this country is hid back in his dust." Turning away, he glanced quickly around, stuck out his tongue at the snoring Mr. Huff, put his bottle on a chair, sat down on another one, rested his feet on the recumbent form of Squint, who snored tenor to his boss' bass, and appeared to be well pleased with himself.