CHAPTER III
PURDY
Some moments later, Jack Purdy nosed his horse into the group ofcayuses that stood with reins hanging, "tied to the ground," in frontof the Long Horn Saloon. Beyond the open doors sounded a babel ofvoices and he could see the men lined two deep before the bar.
Swinging from the saddle he threw the stirrup over the seat and becameimmediately absorbed in the readjustment of his latigo strap. Closebeside him Tex Benton's horse dozed with drooping head. Swiftly a handwhose palm concealed an open jack-knife slipped beneath the Texan'sright stirrup-leather and a moment later was withdrawn as the cayuse,suspicious of the fumbling on the wrong side of the saddle, snortednervously and sheered sharply against another horse which with an angrysqueal, a laying back of the ears, and a vicious snap of the teeth,resented the intrusion. Purdy jerked sharply at the reins of his ownhorse which caused that animal to rear back and pull away.
"Whoa, there! Yeh imp of hell!" he rasped, in tones loud enough toaccount for the commotion among the horses, and slipping the knife intohis pocket, entered the saloon from which he emerged unobserved whilethe boisterous crowd was refilling its glasses at the solicitation of awhite goods drummer who had been among the first to accept theinvitation of the Mayor.
Three doors up the street he entered a rival saloon where the bartenderwas idly arranging his glasses on the back-bar in anticipation of theinevitable rush of business which would descend upon him when thespirit should move the crowd in the Long Horn to start "going therounds."
"Hello, Cinnabar!" The cowpuncher leaned an elbow on the bar, elevateda foot to the rail, and producing tobacco and a book of brown papers,proceeded to roll a cigarette. The bartender returned the greeting andshot the other a keen glance from the corner of his eye as he set out abottle and a couple of glasses.
"Be'n down to the wreck?" he asked, with professionaldisinterestedness. The cowpuncher nodded, lighted his cigarette, andpicking the bottle up by the neck, poured a few drops into his glass."Pretty bad pile-up," persisted the bartender as he measured out hisown drink. "Two or three of the train crew got busted up pretty bad.They say----
"Aw, choke off! What the hell do I care what they say? Nor how badthe train crew got busted up, nor how bad they didn't?" Purdy tappedthe bar with his glass as his black eyes fixed the other with a levelstare. "I came over fer a little talk with yeh, private. I'm a-goin'to win that buckin' contest--an' yer goin' to help me--_sabe_?"
The bartender shook his head: "I don't know how I c'n help you none."
"Well yeh will know when I git through--same as Doc Godkins'll knowwhen I have a little talk with him. Yer both a-goin' to help, you an'Doc. Yeh see, they was a nester's gal died, a year back, over onBeaver Crick, an' Doc tended her. 'Tarford fever,' says Doc. But ol'Lazy Y Freeman paid the freight, an' he thinks about as much of thenesters as what he does of a rattlesnake. I was ridin' fer the Lazy Youtfit, an' fer quite a spell 'fore this tarford fever business the ol'man use to ride the barb wire along Beaver, reg'lar. Yeh know howloose ol' Lazy Y is with his change? A dollar don't loom no bigger tohim than the side of Sugar Loaf Butte, an' it slips through his fingersas easy as a porkypine could back out of a gunnysack. Well, that theredose of tarford fever that the nester gal died of cost ol' Lazy Y jesta even thousan' bucks. An' Doc Godkins got it."
The cowpuncher paused and the bartender picked up his glass. "Drinkup," he said, "an' have another. I do'no what yer talkin' about butit's jest as bad to not have enough red licker in under yer belt wheny' go to make a ride as 'tis to have too much."
"Never yeh mind about the licker. I c'n reg'late my own drinks to suitme. Mebbe I got more'n a ride a-comin' to me 'fore tonight's over."
The bartender eyed him questioningly: "You usta win 'em all--buckin',an' ropin', an'----"
"Yes, I usta!" sneered the other. "An' I could now if it wasn't ferthat Texas son of a ----! Fer three years hand runnin' he's drug downeverything he's went into. He c'n out-rope me an' out-ride me, but hecan't out-guess me! An' some day he's goin' to have to out-shoot me.I'm goin' to win the buckin' contest, an' the ropin', too. See?" Theman's fist pounded the bar.
The bartender nodded; "Well, here's _to_ you."
Once more Purdy fixed the man with his black-eyed stare. "Yes. Butthey's a heap more a-comin' from you than a 'here's _to_ yeh.'"
"Meanin'?" asked the other, as he mechanically swabbed the bar.
"Meanin' that you an' Doc's goin' to help me do it. An' that hain'tall. Tonight 'long 'bout dance time I want that saddle horse o' yournan' yer sideways saddle, too. They's a gal o' mine come in on thetrain, which she'll be wantin', mebbe, to take a ride, an' hain'tfetched no split-up clothes fer to straddle a real saddle. Thatsideways contraption you sent fer 'fore yer gal got to ridin' man-waysis the only one in Wolf River, an' likewise hern's the only horsethat'll stand fer bein' rigged up in it."
"Sure. You're welcome to the horse an' saddle, Jack. The outfit's inthe livery barn. Jest tell Ross to have him saddled agin' you wanthim. He's gentled down so's a woman c'n handle him all right."
"Uh, huh. An' how about the other? Y'goin' to do as I say 'bout that,too?"
The bartender opened a box behind him and selected a cigar which helighted with extreme deliberation. "I told you onct I don't know whatyer talkin' about. Lazy Y Freeman an' Doc Godkins's dirty work ain'tnone of my business. If you win, you win, an' that's all there is toit."
The cowpuncher laughed shortly, and his black eyes narrowed, as heleaned closer. "Oh, that's all, is it? Well, Mr. Cinnabar Joe, let metell yeh that hain't all--by a damn sight!" He paused, but the othernever took his eyes from his face. "Do yeh know what chloral is?" Theman's voice lowered to a whisper and the words seemed to hiss frombetween his lips. The other shook his head. "Well, it's somethin' yehslip into a man's licker that puts him to sleep."
"You mean drug? Dope!" The bartender's eyes narrowed and the cornerof his mouth whitened where it gripped the cigar.
Purdy nodded: "Yes. It don't hurt no one, only it puts 'em to sleepfer mebbe it's three er four hours. I'll get some from Doc an' yergoin' to slip a little into Tex Benton's booze. Then he jest nach'llydozes off an' the boys thinks he's spliflicated an' takes him down tothe hotel an' puts him to bed, an' before he wakes up I'll have thebuckin' contest, an' the ropin' contest, an' most of the rest of it inmy war-bag. I hain't afraid of none of the rest of the boys hornin' inon the money--an' 'tain't the money I want neither; I want to win themcontests particular--an' I'm a-goin' to."
Without removing his elbows from the bar, Cinnabar Joe nodded towardthe door: "You git to hell out o' here!" he said, quietly. "I don'tset in no game with you, see? I don't want none o' your chips. Of allthe God-damned low-lived----"
"If I was you," broke in the cowpuncher with a meaning look, "I'd chokeoff 'fore I'd got in too fer to back out." Something in the glint ofthe black eyes caused the bartender to pause. Purdy laughed, tossedthe butt of his cigarette to the floor, and began irrelevantly: "It'shell--jest hell with the knots an' bark left on--that Nevada wild horserange is." The cowpuncher noted that Cinnabar Joe ceased suddenly topuff his cigar. "It's about seven year, mebbe it's eight," hecontinued, "that an outfit got the idee that mebbe Pete Barnum had thewild horse business to hisself long enough. Four of 'em was prettyrough hands, an' the Kid was headed that way.
"Them that was there knows a heap more'n what I do about what they wentthrough 'fore they got out o' the desert where water-holes was about ascommon as good Injuns. Anyways, this outfit didn't git no wild horses.They was good an' damn glad to git out with what horses they'd took in,an' a whole hide. They'd blow'd in all they had on their projec' an'they was broke when they headed fer Idaho." The bartender's cigar hadgone out and the cowpuncher saw that his face was a shade paler. "Thena train stopped sudden one evenin' where they wasn't no station, an'after that the outfit busted up. But they wasn't broke no more, allbut the Kid. They left him shift fer hisself.
Couple o' years latertwo of the outfit drifted together in Cinnabar an' there they found theKid drivin' a dude-wagon. Drivin' a dude-wagon through the park is adamn sight easier than huntin' wild horses, an' a damn sight safer thanrailroadin' with a Colt, so when the two hard hands stops the Kid'sdude-wagon in the park, thinkin' they'd have a cinch goin' through theKid's passengers, they got fooled good an' proper when the Kid pumps'em full of .45 pills. After that the Kid come to be know'd asCinnabar Joe, an' when the last of the dude-wagons was throw'd out ferautomobiles the Kid drifted up into the cow country. But they's acertain express company that's still huntin' fer the gang--not knowin'o' course that the Cinnabar Joe that got notorious fer defendin' hisdudes was one of 'em.'"
The cowpuncher ceased speaking and produced his "makings" while theother stood gazing straight before him, the dead cigar still gripped inthe corner of his mouth. The scratch of the match roused him and quickas a flash he reached beneath the bar and the next instant had Purdycovered with a six-shooter. With his finger on the trigger CinnabarJoe hesitated, and in that instant he learned that the man that facedhim across the bar was as brave as he was unscrupulous. The fingersthat twisted the little cylinder of paper never faltered and the blackeyes looked straight into the muzzle of the gun.
Now, in the cow country the drawing of a gun is one and the samemovement with the firing of it, and why Cinnabar Joe hesitated he didnot know.
Purdy laughed: "Put her down, Cinnabar. Yeh won't shoot, now. Yehsee, I kind of figgered yeh might be sort o' riled up, so I left my gunin my slicker. Shootin' a unarmed man don't git yeh nothin' but achanct to stretch a rope."
The bartender returned the gun to its place. "Where'd you git thatdope, Jack?" he asked, in a dull voice.
"Well, seein' as yeh hain't so blood-thirsty no more, I'll tell yeh. Iswung down into the bad lands couple weeks ago huntin' a bunch of maresthat strayed off the south slope. I was follerin' down a mud-crackthat opens into Big Dry when all to onct my horse jumps sideways an'like to got me. The reason fer which was a feller layin' on the groundwhere his horse had busted him agin' a rock. His back was broke an' hewas mumblin'; which he must of laid there a day, mebbe two, cause histongue an' lips was dried up till I couldn't hardly make out what hewas sayin'. I catched here an' there a word about holdin' up a trainan' he was mumblin' your name now an' agin so I fetched some water froma hole a mile away an' camped. He et a little bacon later but he washalf crazy with the pain in his back. He'd yell when I walked near himon the ground, said it jarred him, an' when I tried to move him alittle he fainted plumb away. But he come to agin an' begged me fer tohand him his Colt that had lit about ten feet away so he could finishthe job. I seen they wasn't no use tryin' to git him nowheres. He wasall in. But his mutterin' had interested me consid'ble. I figgers ifhe's a hold-up, chances is he's got a nice fat _cache_ hid awaysomewheres, an' seein' he hain't never goin' to need it I might's wellhave the handlin' of it as let it rot where it's at. I tells him soan' agrees that if he tips off his _cache_ to me I'll retaliate bygivin' him the gun. He swears he ain't got no _cache_. He's blow'deverything he had, his nerve's gone, an' he's headin' fer Wolf Riverfer to gouge yeh out of some _dinero_. He claims yeh collected rewardon them two yeh got in the Yellowstone an' what's more the dudes tuk upa collection of a thousan' bucks an' give it to yeh besides. _You_ washis _cache_. So he handed me the dope I just sprung on yeh, an' hesays besides that you an' him's the only ones left. The other one gothis'n down in Mexico where he'd throw'd in with some Greaser bandits."
"An' what---- Did you give him the gun?" asked the bartender.
Purdy nodded: "Sure. He' done a good job, too. He was game, allright, never whimpered nor hung back on the halter. Jest stuck the gunin his mouth an' pulled the trigger. I was goin' to bury him but Iheard them mares whinner down to the water-hole so I left him fer thebuzzards an' the coyotes.
"About that there chloral. I'll slip over an' git it from Doc. An'say, I'm doin' the right thing by yeh. I could horn yeh fer a chunk o'that reward money, but I won't do a friend that way. An' more'n that,"he paused and leaned closer. "I'll let you in on somethin' worth whileone of these days. That there thousan' that ol' Lazy Y paid Doc hain'ta patchin' to what he's goin' to fork over to me. See?"
Cinnabar Joe nodded, slowly, as he mouthed his dead cigar, and when hespoke it was more to himself than to Purdy. "I've played a square gameever since that time back on the edge of the desert. I don't want tohave to do time fer that. It wouldn't be a square deal nohow, I wasonly a Kid then an' never got a cent of the money. Then, there'sJennie over to the hotel. We'd about decided that bartendin' an'hash-slingin' wasn't gittin' us nowheres an' we was goin' to hitch upan' turn nesters on a little yak outfit I've bought over on Eagle." Hestopped abruptly and looked the cowpuncher squarely in the eye. "If itwasn't fer her, by God! I'd tell you jest as I did before, to git tohell out of here an' do your damnedest. But it would bust her all upif I had to do time fer a hold-up. You've got me where you want me, Iguess. But I don't want in on no dirty money from old Lazy Y, nor noone else. You go it alone--it's your kind of a job.
"This here chloride, or whatever you call it, you sure it won't kill aman?"
Purdy laughed: "Course it won't. It'll only put him to sleep till I'vehad a chanct to win out. I'll git the stuff from Doc an' find out howmuch is a dost, an' you kin' slip it in his booze."
As the cowpuncher disappeared through the door, Cinnabar Joe's eyesnarrowed. "You damn skunk!" he muttered, biting viciously upon thestump of his cigar. "If you was drinkin' anything I'd switch glasseson _you_, an' then shoot it out with you when you come to. From now onit's you or me. You've got your hooks into me an' this is only thebeginnin'." The man stopped abruptly and stared for a long time at thestove-pipe hole in the opposite wall. Then, turning, he studied hisreflection in the mirror behind the bottles and glasses. He tossedaway his cigar, straightened his necktie, and surveyed himself from anew angle.
"This here Tex, now," he mused. "He sure is a rantankerous cuss whenhe's lickered up. He'd jest as soon ride his horse through that dooras he would to walk through, an' he's always puttin' somethin' over onsomeone. But he's a man. He'd go through hell an' high water fer afriend. He was the only one of the whole outfit had the guts to tendJimmy Trimble when he got the spotted fever--nursed him back to good asever, too, after the Doc had him billed through fer yonder." CinnabarJoe turned and brought his fist down on the bar. "I'll do it!" hegritted. "Purdy'll think Tex switched the drinks on me. Only I hopehe wasn't lyin' about that there stuff. Anyways, even if he was, it'sone of them things a man's got to do. An' I'll rest a whole lot easierin my six by two than what I would if I give Tex the long good-byefirst." Unconsciously, the man began to croon the dismal wail of theplains:
"O bury me not on the lone praire-e-e In a narrow grave six foot by three, Where the buzzard waits and the wind blows free, Then bury me not on the lone praire-e-e.
Yes, we buried him there on the lone praire-e-e Where the owl all night hoots mournfulle-e-e And the blizzard beats and the wind blows free O'er his lonely grave on the lone praire-e-e.
And the cowboys now as they roam the plain"----
"Hey, choke off on that!" growled Purdy as he advanced with rattlingspurs. "Puts me in mind of _him_--back there in Big Dry. 'Spose I ortto buried him, but it don't make no difference, now." He passed asmall phial across the bar. "Fifteen or twenty drops," he saidlaconically, and laughed. "Nothin' like keepin' yer eyes an' earsopen. Doc kicked like a steer first, but he seen I had his hide hungon the fence onless he loosened up. But he sure wouldn't weep none atmy demise. If ever I git sick I'll have some other Doc. I'd as soonsend fer a rattlesnake." The man glanced at the clock. "It's workin''long to'ards noon, I'll jest slip down to the Long Horn an' stampedethe bunch over here."