CHAPTER XXVIII
GOPHERTOWN
Some towns "nestle" on the plain. Others, more aspiring, "roost" in thehills. Gophertown squatted on the desert at the very edge of a range ofbarren foothills. Its principal street was not much more than abridle-trail that led past eleven ramshackle cabins, derelicts of theold mining days when Gophertown knew gold.
The population of Gophertown was of an itinerant order. This was notalways due to internecine disputes. Frequently a citizen became overboldand visited his old haunts instead of remaining safely, even ifmonotonously, at home. Train robbery was a sure passport to Gophertown'sprotection. Man-killing lent an added distinction to an applicant forhurried admission. Cattle-and horse-thieving were mere industries not tobe confounded with these higher professions.
Overland Red had once wintered in Gophertown. Immediately previous tohis arrival in Gophertown he had been obliged to maintain, in anunofficial capacity, his former prestige as sheriff of Abilene. The townof Abilene had sympathized with him heartily, but had advised him toabsent himself indefinitely and within the hour.
The general store and saloon of the old mining camp still stood at thecorner of the town facing the desert. A bleached and faded sign onceread, "Palace Emporium." The letters now seemed to be shrinking frompublic gaze--vanishing into the wood as though ashamed of themselves.The wording of the sign had been frequently and indifferentlypunctuated. Each succeeding marksman had exploded his own theory, andpassed on.
Liquor was still to be obtained at the general store. Provisions wereoccasionally teamed in and were made up of peculiarly conglomerate lots.There were no women in Gophertown. There was little local gossip. Therewas no regular watch kept on the outlands. Gophertown felt secure initself. Each man was his own argus. He was expected to know his enemiesby instinct. He was expected, as a usual thing, to settle his disputessingle-handed.
* * * * *
Silent Saunders was in the general store and saloon. He was disgusted inthat he had been unable to induce the citizens to ride out with him andclean up Overland Red's claim. Overland had once been of them, even ifbriefly. He had been popular, especially as he was then the quickestman with a gun they had ever honored with their patronage. Also, theGophertown folk had recently received a warning letter from thesuperintendent of a transcontinental railroad. They were not interestedin Saunders's proposal.
Saunders, coming from the saloon, was not a little surprised to see aband of horsemen far out on the desert. He felt that their presence inhis vicinity had something to do with himself. He counted the horses.There were six of them. He knew instantly that the riders were cowmen,although he could not distinguish one from another. He beckoned to thesaloon-keeper.
"We could 'a' stopped that," he said, pointing toward the desert.
"Big bunch. One--two--three--six of 'em. _Big_ bunch to come visitin'here."
Saunders gestured toward the canon behind Gophertown.
The saloon-keeper shook his head. "Don't think most of our boys will beback this week. Brandin' that bunch of new stock. Takes time to do itright."
"Well, here comes Parks and Santa Fe Smith," said Saunders. "That makesfour of us."
"Mebby--and mebby not," said the saloon-keeper. "That depends. Dependson the party that's callin' and who they're callin' _on_."
"There's Sago--just ridin' the ledge trail. That's five."
"'Lige and Joe Kennedy are up at the corrals," said the saloon-keeper."They would hate to miss anything like this."
"Mebby they won't, if that bunch gets past us," said Saunders.
"Seen the time when you could handle them alone, didn't you, Si?"
"Yes, and I can now."
"Nix, Si. Your gun arms ain't what they was sence Overland Red wingedyou."
"How in hell do you know he did?"
"I could tell you more. But come on in and have one on the house. If Iwas you, I'd set with my back to the door and be taking a drink. RedSummers never shot a man in the back yet. If he's playin' for _you_,why, that gives you a chance to pull a gun."
"How about you?" queried Saunders.
"Me? None of my business. I'm here to push the booze."
"And you'll do your collectin' with a gun, or go broke, if it's RedSummers and his friends."
"Tryin' to scare me because you are?" asked the bartender.
"Red helped Kennedy out of a mix once. Kennedy is his friend."
"But Joe ain't here. What's gettin' into you? How do you know it is Red,anyway? You act queer."
"I got a hunch," said Saunders.
"Then you want to go into action quick, for when a gunman gets a hunchthat he knows who is trailin' him, it's a bad sign."
Saunders drummed on the table with his fingers. The drink of liquor hadrestored his nerve. Perhaps the riders were not coming to visit him,after all. He rose and stepped to the door. The oncoming horses werenear enough for him to distinguish the roan outlaw Yuma--Collie's horse.Her rider's figure was only too familiar. Saunders fingered his belt.Unbuckling it, he stepped back into the barroom and laid thetwo-holstered guns and the belt on the table.
Parks, from up in the canon, rode up, tied his pony, and strolled to thebar, nodding to Saunders. Following him came Santa Fe Smith, abow-legged individual in sweater and blue jeans. He nodded to Saunders.Presently Sago, the Inyo County outlaw, came in, wheezing andperspiring. Saunders stepped to the bar and called for "one all around."
As they drank two more ponies clattered up and 'Lige and Joe Kennedyjoined the group at the bar. "Hutch and Simpson are comin' afoot," saidJoe Kennedy.
"That leaves Wagner and the Chink to hear from," said the saloon-keeper.
"Wagner's sick. I don't know where the Chink is. Everybody seems to 'a'got up in time for dinner, this mornin', eh?" And big Joe Kennedylaughed. "This here bar is right popular jest now."
"Goin' to be more popular," said the saloon-keeper.
"That so?" exclaimed several, facetiously.
"Ask Saunders there," said the saloon-keeper.
"Friends of yours, Silent?"
"Yes. Friends of mine."
"Whole six of 'em, eh?"
"Whole six of 'em."
"Well, we won't butt in. We'll give you lots of room."
Saunders said nothing. He paid for the liquor, and, stepping to thetable, sat with his back to the doorway. In front of him lay his guns,placed handily, but with studied carelessness. He leaned naturally onone elbow, as though half asleep. His hat was tilted over his brows.
From outside came the jingle of spurs and rein-chains and the distantsound of voices. Saunders began leisurely to roll a cigarette. He laid afew matches on the table. Several of the men at the bar grinnedknowingly.
Then came the gritting of heels on the hardpacked trail and OverlandRed stood in the doorway. "Mornin', gents--and Saunders," he said,glancing at the figure seated back toward him.
"Hello, Red!" exclaimed Joe Kennedy. "Out early, ain't you. Have adrink."
"Not out too early. Hello, Lusk!"
"How, Red," said the saloon-keeper.
"Where's your friends. Ask 'em in," said Kennedy.
"Shall I ask 'em in, Saunders?" queried Overland, his voice edged with adouble meaning.
"Not on my account," said Saunders over his shoulder.
"All right. Let's have a drink, boys."
Even "Go-Light" Sago, the vilest of the Gophertown crew, admiredOverland's coolness in turning his back on Saunders and facing the bar.
For a second Saunders's fingers twitched. He glanced up.
Joe Kennedy was looking at him over his glass of whiskey. "Ain't youdrinkin', Silent?" he asked.
"With some folks," said Saunders.
Overland whirled round. "Have a drink with me, then."
Saunders laughed.
"Then you don't smoke either, while I'm here," said Overland, his handon his hip.
"That so?"
"Yes, that's so! When you try to pull that old bluff of a match
-game onme, wait till I'm a hundred and four years old, Silent. That gun-trickdied of old age. Think up a new one."
"Ain't you talkin' a little loud for polite sassiety?" questioned Sago,addressing Overland.
"Seein' you're the only one that thinks so, I reckon not," saidOverland.
"Then," said Sago, moving slightly from the bar, "Saunders smokes."
It was an open declaration of war. Sago, the Inyo County outlaw, sidedwith Saunders.
According to the ethics of gunmen, Saunders was not armed. He was not"packing iron." His weapons lay on the table within reach, but he knewOverland would not precipitate matters by shooting him down where hesat. He glanced at Sago. The other winked.
"Then I smoke," said Saunders, and reached for a match. He shot from thehip, swinging his guns sideways. The stutter of Overland's automaticsmingled with the roar of Saunders's heavy Colts.
Sago, jumping clear, pulled his gun. Kennedy clutched his arm. Saundersslid from his chair, coughed horribly, and wilted to the floor. Overlandbacked toward the door, both guns leveled.
Sago, jerking his arm free, threw two shots at Overland, who repliedwith a rippling tattoo of the automatics. The Inyo County outlaw sank tohis hands and knees. Then Overland leaped through the doorway. TheMoonstone riders spurred toward the saloon, thinking that the quarrelhad provoked too many guns. Overland tried to stop them, but they werehot for fight.
"It's a clean up!" yelled Parks, running out of the saloon and mountinghis horse. "You framed it, you red-headed son--" He got no further.Brand Williams, thundering down at the head of the Moonstone riders,threw a level shot that cut through Parks, who wavered, but managed towheel his horse and fire at Overland Red. Then the outlaw slid from thesaddle clawing at it as he fell.
The Gophertown men poured from the saloon, and, seizing their ponies,circled round to the back of the building, firing as they retreated.
Miguel spurred his big pinto in among them and emptied his gun. He rodeout at a lope, reloading. The front of his flannel shirt was shot away,but he was not aware of it.
Billy Dime coolly sat his horse and "drew fine" at each shot, till aleaden slug drilled his gun-arm. He swore profusely, and wisely spurredout of range.
"I got one!" cried Miguel, swinging shut the cylinder of his gun. "I goget another one."
"Give 'em my com-pli-ments," said Dime, winding a handkerchief round hisarm and knotting it with one hand and his teeth.
Williams, keeping under cover, fired slowly and with great precision.Overland Red, utterly unable to manage the Yuma colt under fire, rode upto Williams. "Let's call it off, Brand. I got my man. They was no needof the rest of it. How did it start, anyhow?"
"That's about what the kid said when he let go the wagon on top of thehill. I counted five Gophers down. Billy's hit, and Miguel's goin' tobe, the dam' little fool. Look at him!"
The Gophertown men were drawing away toward the canon. They turnedoccasionally to throw a shot at Miguel and Pars Long, who followed them.
Bud Light sat his horse, gazing solemnly at the stump of his gun-finger.His shirt was spattered with blood.
Suddenly Williams raised a shrill call. The Moonstone boys wheeled theirponies and rode toward him. Williams pointed up the canon. Down it rodea group of men who seemed to be undecided in their movements. They wouldspur forward and then check and circle, apparently waiting for theirfriends to come up to them. "It's the rest of the Gophertown outfit. Wemight as well beat it," said Williams. "This here thing's gettin' toopopular all to once."
"Did that guy get you?" asked Williams, nodding to Overland.
"Not what you'd notice," replied Overland. "We'll take a drink on thehouse. She ain't so tidy as she was."
"Neither is the guy behind the bar," said Bud Light, pointing with thestub of his finger to Lusk's face. The saloon-keeper had been hit betweenthe eyes by a chance bullet.
"He's where he belongs," said Williams. "So is this one." And Williamstouched Saunders's body with his boot. "Let's drink and vamoose."
"Here's to the kid!" cried Overland, strangely white and shaky.
"Here's hoping!" chorused the Moonstone riders.
IT'S A CLEAN-UP]