CHAPTER VIII
AT "THE LAST CHANCE"
The afternoon following the day of his discharge from the Concho,Fadeaway rode into Antelope, tied his pony to the hitching-rail infront of "The Last Chance," and entered the saloon. Several men loafedat the bar. The cowboy, known as "a good spender when flush," was madewelcome. He said nothing about being out of employment, craftilyanticipating the possibility of having to ask for credit later, as hehad but a half-month's pay with him. He was discussing the probabilityof early rains with a companion when Will Corliss entered the place.
Fadeaway greeted him with loud, counterfeit heartiness, and they dranktogether. Their talk centered on the Concho. Gradually they drew awayfrom the group at the bar. Finally Corliss mentioned his brother.Fadeaway at once became taciturn.
Corliss noticed this and questioned the puncher. "Had a row withJack?" he asked.
"Between you and me, I did. He fired me, couple of days ago."
"Full?"
"Nope. Chance killed one of Loring's sheep. John hung it onto me,seein' Chance was with me. Guess John's gettin' religion."
Corliss laughed, and his lips twisted to a sneer. "Guess he is. Itried to touch him for two hundred of my own money and he turned medown. Maybe I like it."
"Turned you down, eh! That's what I call nerve! And you been awaythree year and more. Reckon, by the way the Concho is makin' good, yougot more'n two hundred comin'. She's half yours, ain't she?"
"Yes. And I'm going to get my share. He told me I could have ajob--that he was short-handed. What do you think of that! And I ownhalf the Concho! I guess I'd like to ride range with a lot of--well,you understand, Fade. I never liked the Concho and I never will.Let's have another. No. This is on me."
Again they drank and Corliss became more talkative. He posed as onewronged by society in general and his brother especially.
As his talk grew louder, Fadeaway cautioned him. "Easy, Billy. No useadvertisin'. Come on over here." And Fadeaway gestured toward one ofthe tables in the rear of the room.
Corliss was about to retort to the other's apparently good-naturedinterference with his right to free speech, when he caught Fadeaway'sglance. "Well?" he exclaimed.
The cowboy evidently had something to say in confidence. Corlissfollowed him to one of the tables.
"It's this way," began the cowboy. "You're sore at Jack. Now Jack'sgot friends here and it won't help you any to let 'em know you're soreat him. I ain't feelin' like kissin' him myself--right now. But Iain't advertisin' it. What you want to do is--"
"What's that got to do with me?" interrupted Corliss.
Fadeaway laughed. "Nothin'--if you like. Only there's been doin'ssince you lit out." And he paused to let the inference sink in.
"You mean--?"
"Look here, Billy. I been your friend ever since you was a kid. Andseein' you're kind of out of luck makes me sore--when I think what'syours by rights. Mebby I'm ridin' over the line some to say it, butfrom what I seen since you been gone, Jack ain't goin' to cry any ifyou never come back. Old man Loring ain't goin' to live more'n athousand years. Mebby Jack don't jest love him--but Jack ain't beenlosin' any time since you been gone."
Corliss flushed. "I suppose I don't know that! But he hasn't seen thelast of me yet."
"If I had what's comin' to you, you bet I wouldn't work on nocattle-ranch, either. I'd sure hire a law-shark and find out where Igot off."
Fadeaway's suggestion had its intended effect. The younger man knewthat an appeal to the law would be futile so long as he chose to ignorethat clause in the will which covered the contingency he wasillustrating by his conduct. Fadeaway again cautioned him as he becameloud in his invective against his brother. The cowboy, while posing asfriend and adviser, was in reality working out a subtle plan of hisown, a plan of which Corliss had not the slightest inkling.
"And the Concho's makin' good," said Fadeaway, helping himself to adrink. He shoved the bottle toward Corliss. "Take a little'Forget-it,' Billy. That's her! Here's to what's yours!" They dranktogether. The cowboy rolled a cigarette, tilted back his chair, andpuffed thoughtfully. "Yes, she's makin' good. Why, Bud is gettin' ahundred and twenty-five, now. Old Hi Wingle's drawin' downeighty--Jack's payin' the best wages in this country. Must of cleanedup four or five thousand last year. And here you're settin', broke."
"Well, you needn't rub it in," said Corliss, frowning.
Fadeaway grinned. "I ain't, Billy. I'm out of a job myself: andnothin' comin'--like you."
Corliss felt that there was something in his companion's easy driftthat had not as yet come to the surface. Fadeaway's hard-lined facewas unreadable. The cowboy saw a question in the other's eyes andcleverly ignored it. Since meeting the brother he had arrived at aplan to revenge himself on John Corliss and he intended that thebrother should take the initiative.
He got up and proffered his hand. "So long, Billy. If you ever need afriend, you know where to find him."
"Hold on, Fade. What's your rush?"
"Got to see a fella. Mebby I'll drop in later."
Corliss rose.
Fadeaway leaned across the table. "I'm broke, and you're broke. TheConcho pays off Monday, next week. The boys got three monthscomin'--close to eighteen hundred--and gold."
"Gold? Thought John paid by check?"
"He's tryin' to keep the boys from cashin' in, here. Things are goin'to be lively between Loring and the Concho before long. Jack needs allthe hands he's got."
"But I don't see what that's got to do with it, Fade."
"Nothing 'ceptin' I'm game to stand by a pal--any time."
"You mean--?"
"Jest a josh, Billy. I was only thinkin' what _could_ be pulled off bya couple of wise ones. So-long!"
And the cowboy departed wondering just how far his covert suggestionhad carried with Will Corliss. As for Will Corliss, Fadeaway carednothing whatever. Nor did he intend to risk getting caught with ashare of the money in his possession, provided his plan was carried toa conclusion. He anticipated that John Corliss would be away from theranch frequently, owing to the threatened encroachment of Loring'ssheep on the west side of the Concho River. Tony, the Mexican, wouldbe left in charge of the ranch. Will Corliss knew the combination ofthe safe--of that Fadeaway was pretty certain. Should they get themoney, people in the valley would most naturally suspect the brother.And Fadeaway reasoned that John Corliss would take no steps to recoverthe money should suspicion point to his brother having stolen it.Meanwhile he would wait.
Shortly after Fadeaway had gone out, Will Corliss got up and saunteredto the street. He gazed up and down the straggling length of Antelopeand cursed. Then he walked across to the sheriff's office.
The sheriff motioned him to a chair, which he declined. "Better sitdown, Billy. I want to talk to you."
"Haven't got time," said Corliss. "You know what I came for."
"That's just what I want to talk about. See here, Billy, you've beenhitting it up pretty steady this week. Here's the prospect. John toldme to hand you five a day for a week. You got clothes, grub, and aplace to sleep and all paid for. You could go out to the ranch if youwanted to. The week is up and you're goin' it just the same. If youwant any more money you'll have to see John. I give you all he leftwith me."
"By God, that's the limit!" exclaimed Corliss.
"I guess it is, Billy. Have a cigar?"
Corliss flung out of the office and tramped across to the saloon. Hecalled for whiskey and, seating himself at one of the tables, dranksteadily. Fadeaway wasn't such a fool, after all. But robbery! Wasit robbery? Eighteen hundred dollars would mean San Francisco . . .Corliss closed his eyes. Out of the red mist of remembrance a girl'sface appeared. The heavy-lidded eyes and vivid lips smiled. Thenother faces, and the sound of music and laughter. He nodded to themand raised his glass. . . . As the raw whiskey touched his lips thered mist swirled away. The dingy interior of the saloon, the boot
edand belted riders, the grimy floor littered with cigarette-ends, thehanging oil-lamp with its blackened chimney, flashed up and spreadbefore him like the speeding film of a picture, stationary upon thescreen of his vision, yet trembling toward a change of scene. A blurappeared in the doorway. In the nightmare of his intoxication hewelcomed the change. Why didn't some one say something or dosomething? And the figure that had appeared, why should it pause andspeak to one of the men at the bar, and not come at once to him. Theywere laughing. He grew silently furious. Why should they laugh andtalk and keep him waiting? He knew who had come in. Of course heknew! Did Fadeaway think to hide himself behind the man at the bar?Then Fadeaway should not wear chaps with silver conchas that glitteredand gleamed as he shifted his leg and turned his back. "Said he was myfriend," mumbled Corliss. "My friend! Huh!" Was it a friend thatwould leave him sitting there, alone?
He rose and lurched to the bar. Some one steadied him as he swayed.He stiffened and struck the man in the face. He felt himself jerkedbackward and the shock cleared his vision. Opposite him two men heldFadeaway, whose mouth was bleeding. The puncher was struggling to getat his gun.
Corliss laughed. "Got you that time, you thief!"
"He's crazy drunk," said one of the men. "Don't get het up, Fade. Heain't packin' a gun."
Fadeaway cursed and wiped the blood from his mouth. He was playing hispart well. Accident had helped him. To all intents and purposes theywere open enemies.
Still, he was afraid Corliss would talk, so he laughed and extended hishand. "Shake, Billy. I guess you didn't know what you were doin'. Iwas tryin' to keep you from fallin'."
Corliss stared at the other with unwinking eyes.
Fadeaway laughed and turned toward the bar. "Ought to hand him one,but he's all in now, I reckon. That's what a fella gets for mixin' upwith kids. Set 'em up, Joe."
Left to himself Corliss stared about stupidly. Then he started for thedoorway.
As he passed Fadeaway, the latter turned and seized his arm. "Come onup and forget it, Billy. You and me's friends, ain't we?"
The cowboy, by sheer force of his personality, dominated the nowrepentant Corliss, whose stubbornness had given way to tearfulretraction and reiterated apology. Of course they were friends!
They drank and Fadeaway noticed the other's increasing pallor. "Jestabout one more and he'll take a sleep," soliloquized the cowboy. "Inthe mornin' 's when I ketch him, raw, sore, and ready for anything."
One of the cowboys helped Corliss to his room at the Palace. LaterFadeaway entered the hotel, asked for a room, and clumped upstairs. Herose early and knocked at Corliss's door, then entered without waitingfor a response.
He wakened Corliss, who sat up and stared at him stupidly. "Mornin',Billy. How's the head?"
"I don't know yet. Got any cash, Fade? I'm broke."
"Sure. What you want?"
Corliss made a gesture, at which the other laughed. "All right,pardner. I'll fan it for the medicine."
When he returned to the room, Corliss was up and dressed. Contrary toFadeaway's expectations, the other was apparently himself, although alittle too bright and active to be normal.
"Guess I got noisy last night," said Corliss, glancing at Fadeaway'sswollen lip.
"Forget it! Have some of this. Then I got to fan it."
"Where are you going?"
"Me? Over to the Blue. Got a job waitin' for me."
Corliss's fingers worked nervously. "When did you say the Concho paidoff?" he queried, avoiding the other's eye.
Fadeaway's face expressed surprise. "The Concho? Why, next Monday.Why?"
"Oh--nothing. I was just wondering . . ."
"Want to send any word to Jack?" asked the cowboy.
"No, I don't. Thanks, just the same, Fade."
"Sure! Well, I guess I'll be goin'."
"Wait a minute. Don't be in a rush. I was thinking . . ."
Fadeaway strode to the window and stood looking out on the street. Hisapparent indifference was effective.
"Say, Fade, do you think we could--could get away with it?"
"With what?" exclaimed the cowboy, turning.
"Oh, you know! What you said yesterday."
"Guess I said a whole lot yesterday that I forgot this mornin'. I getto joshin' when I'm drinkin' bug-juice. What you gettin' at?"
"The money--at the Concho."
"Oh, that! Why, Billy, I was jest stringin' you! Supposin' somebodywas to make a try for it; there's Chance like to be prowlin' around andthe safe ain't standin' open nights. Besides, Jack sleeps next to theoffice. That was a josh."
"Well, I could handle Chance," said Corliss. "And I know thecombination to the safe, if it hasn't been changed. You said Jack waslikely to be away nights, now."
Fadeaway shook his head. "You're dreamin', Bill. 'Sides, I wouldn'ttouch a job like that for less'n five hundred."
"Would you--for five hundred?"
"I dunno. Depends on who I was ridin' with."
"Well, I'll divvy up--give you five hundred if you'll come in on it."
Again Fadeaway shook his head. "It's too risky, Billy. 'Course youmean all right--but I reckon you ain't got nerve enough to put herthrough."
"I haven't!" flashed Corliss. "Try me!"
"And make a get-away," continued the cowboy. "I wouldn't want to seeyou pinched."
"I'll take a chance, if you will," said Corliss, now assuming, asFadeaway had intended, the role of leader in the proposed robbery.
"How you expect to get clear--when they find it out?"
"I could get old man Soper to hide me out till I could get to Sagetown.He'll do anything for money. I could be on the Limited before the newswould get to Antelope."
"And if you got pinched, first thing you'd sing out 'Fadeaway,' andthen me for over the road, eh?"
"Honest, Fade. I'll swear that I won't give you away, even if I getcaught. Here's my hand on it."
"Give me nine hundred and I'll go you," said Fadeaway, shaking handswith his companion.
Corliss hesitated. Was the risk worth but half the money involved?"Five's a whole lot, Fade."
"Well, seein' you're goin' to do the gettin' at it, why, mebby I'd riskit for five hundred. I dunno."
"You said you'd stand by a pal, Fade. Now's your chance."
"All right. See here, Bill. You cut out the booze all you can to-day.Foot it out to the Beaver Dam to-night and I'll have a hoss for you.We can ride up the old canon trail. Nobody takes her nowadays, sowe'll be under cover till we hit the ford. We can camp there back inthe brush and tackle her next evenin'. So-long."
Fadeaway was downstairs and out on the street before Corliss realizedthat he had committed himself to a desperate and dangerous undertaking.He recalled the expression in Fadeaway's eyes when they had shakenhands. Unquestionably the cowboy meant business.