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EVERY STORY IN THIS ISSUE BRAND NEW
RANGERS
A THRILLING PUBLICATION wszze) Nol. 50,No.200 : APRIL, 1953
A Complete Jim Hatfield Novel TRAIL OF THE DESERT WITCH..:......... Jackson Cole 10
The Lone Wolf, posing as an outlaw, savvied that the beautiful widow hated rangers. But she had vast power—and he needed plenty of assistance
A Novelet HAUNTED SPURS......... Gea a Ss H. A. DeRosso 72
The one girl who never lost faith in Joey made him remember a thing too dangerous to remember
Five Short Stories ; ONCE A OSAAN.°.. . 2 Gordon D. Shirreffs 58.
A Texas man didn’t count odds—he made his own | SIXGUN STALEMATE............... SS Jim Brewer 64. Marshal Jesse Obler had a hard decision to make EVERY DOG HAS HIS DAY..............:...Ben Frank 85 Does it apply only to the four-legged variety? BrACH. BRAND 23 4 SS C. S. Park 94 - The desert hides nothing from her chosen people : A BULLET FOR THE PAIUTE KID......... T. C. McClary 101.
Is a man with a shady past necessarily. all bad?
Features = THE FRONTIER POST............ .se....-Captain Starr WESTERNETTES........ eis a Sa oe Harold Helfer 9
SAGEBRUSH SAVVY...... See Ss. Omar Barker 71.
Also See Tall Texas Tales on Pages 27 and 45, and Cartoon Fun on Pages 35 and 79
JIM HENDRYX, JR., Editor
WZ
Py hip
Be
TEXAS RANGERS. Published months S Better Publications, Inc.; at 10 East 40th Street, New York 16, N.Y. L. Pines, President. Subscription. 2 yearly $3.00, sin nee copies 25c. ” Foreign and Canadian postage extra. Re-entered
as second-class matter April at the Post Office at New York, N. Y., under the Act of March 3, 1879. ° Copyright, 1953, by Better ee icerioes Ing. Manuscripts will not be returned unless accompanied by self-addressed, stamped envelopes, and are submitted at the author’s risk. Names of all characters used in stories and semi- -fictior articles are fictitious. {If the name of any real person or existing institution is used, it is a Sat in corresponding with this publication, please include yee postal zone number, if any. April, 1953,
PRI NTED. iN THE U.S.A.
Justice, by Jones! A True Western Tale
AM JONES was a square- shooter who believed every man should-get his just dues. Born in 1818, near what is now Big Lake, Texas, Sam was only eighteen years old when he joined up with Gen- eral Sam Houston and helped defeat the Mexicans at, the battle of San Jacinto which -yesulted in the independence of Texas. Gen- eral Houston personally rewarded Sam for unusual bravery in that engagement.
Sam spent his next fifteen years herding cattle over the western plains of Texas, and helping drive large herds through to St. Louis. He always claimed the one thing he couldn’t abide was a-cattle rustler. Accord- ing to his way of thinking, it was a waste of state money to give those hombres a trial. ‘String them up to the closest cottonwood tree and get it over with, was his repeated advice.
Sam was almost sixty years old when he was elected judge, and almost overnight his way of thinking changed. He intended to see that Texas had law and order, the same as other states. The citizens must stop taking the law into their own hands. No more necktie parties, Sam decreed.
One of Sam’s toughest cases was when a well-to-do rancher was brought into his court, charged with stealing cattle. Hiring a smart lawyer from Austin and paying two friends to swear he was with them the night the cattle had been driven off, the thief stood a good chance of going free. Sam knew the rancher was guilty, but by the looks of
things, the jury wasn’t convinced. After the
two lawyers’ final pleas, Sam gave the jury their instructions.
“Gentlemen of the jury, the purpose of this court is to see that this man gets a fair trial,” he said, “and I intend to see that he does. But I know you twelve men are smart enough not to be took in by no lying cattle rustler.” :
The jury was out twelve minutes, and
that was the, end of that. cattle rustler’s
career. o —Loma Andrus
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The Great Indian Robbery
ID America ever really belong to the
Indians? The truth is, the question
never has been decided by any rule of law, philosophy, reason or justice!
Now then, gals and galluses, if you doubt this sweeping statement, just string along with me for a few minutes in a review of American history.
One year after Christopher Coheaiehs dis- covered this extensive continent in 1492 (by planting foot and flag on the beach of an off- shore island), Pope Alexander VI up and gave the whole shebang, the entire Western hemisphere, to. Ferdinand and Isabella of Spain.
It was the most enormous gift ever known. This amazing grant was made because the Indians who inhabited the New World were considered infidels, and therefore in. the opinion of the generous donor they were not entitled to possess the land on which their . Creator had placed them.
Double Trouble
England and Spain weren’t hitting it off so good about that time, so naturally the English king wasn’t plumb enthusiastic about letting half of the world fall into the royal laps of the rulers of an enemy country. Henry VII got his dander up. He sent a footloose cavalier named John Cabot to look over the unmapped land, and to take possession of same by right of exploration, instead of discovery.
As we see it now, the morality of such a one-sided deal amounted to about the same in either case. The English not only appro- priated the far dominions, but they proceeded to make vassals of the numerous tribes and barbaric nations.
Barbarians or not, the Indians had gump- tion enough to object to such a raw deal.
They figured it was their stamping ground. 6
They founded their claim to the soil on nature, on the grounds of immemorial oc- cupancy.
If it wasn’t theirs, whose was it?
There at first, it was a three-cornered ruckus. But in the years that soon followed, it became a battle royal. The Dutch, Portu- guese, French and later on the Russians horned in on the big, rich find. They validated their seizures not by right of discovery or exploration, but by right of wse.
Of course, the Indians had used it, too, in their own fashion. But that circumstance was brushed aside. After all, here was a vast extent of valuable, largely vacant and weakly
defended country. Naturally, the “civilized”
countries coveted it.
By the time the Indians got around to fight- ing for what was theirs, it was too late. If they'd ganged up on the first arrivals, it would have been a cinch. But now they were overwhelmed by European immigrants of one breed and another who not only out-
- numbered them but who had superior weap-
ons. Guns and that secret weapon of the ; times, rum.
Legal Shenanigans
Gradually worn down and wearied by = bloodshed, the Indians consented to treaties,
which solemnly conveyed back to them some
of their ancestral wilderness acreage.
But as the value of land increased, and as/”~
more people came, white men ignored: those treaties. Either they broke them outright or found loopholes in them. Sharp legal minds weaseled around and came up with the proposition that the Indians didn’t actually — own the regions they inhabited in the first place, that it was a common belonging to all mankind. From this converffent premise, it was concluded that the Indians had no right
to sell, barter or to dispose of any part of it by treaty, swap, handshaking or passing around the peace pipe.
But a maze of inconsistencies show up, as we examine the past. Most of our eastern seaboard was purchased—with money, chalk, marbles, firéwater or beads—here and there,
a hunk at a time. Those deals were okayed
by what is known as “tacit consent.” Who- ever cooked up that law term sure hit on a doozey. It works like this. If you knock a man out with a club, rob him, and he comes to and sees you still standing there with poised club, he agrees that what you did was perfectly okay in order to avoid a new knob on cn noggin. And that is —_ is known. “tacit consent.”
The Constant Squabble
- In our great West, most of which was claimed by Spain, land titles reached back to Spanish grants which were based on that whopping gift of Pope Alexander to. Spain.
To complicate it even more, the Spanish
rulers, not to be outdone in generosity, gave the same grants away several times to dif-
ferent political henchmen. It took land com-,
missions appointed by Washington (D. C., not George) to straighten out those tangles. There are descendants of claimants, both Spanish and Mexican, who believe they got an unfair shake. Yet old documents still
-- come to light that contest the findings of the
land commissions. A good many years ago, a character bobbed up, claiming he was heir
‘to the entire State of Arizona. Things looked
bad for awhile—until his musty records were
~ branded as fakes.
But don’t worry about it. Most of the rest of this old planet has been taken and retaken
by outright, shameless conquest. In this en- | lightened age, it is pretty generally agreed |
that right of conquest isn’t any right at all. Nevertheless, conquest still goes on in other
parts of the world.
But to get back to the American Indian, about the only way we can right the wrongs he has suffered is to absorb him gradually into our democratic way of life. That’s being done. He is a voter, now on his way to full citizenship. His benefits are and ever will be
guaranteed by the strongest, clearest and
noblest document conceived by man since his
first feeble reach for freedom under the |
Magna Charta. By the Constitution of the United States of America, plus the Bill of Rights.
TO PEOPLE Who Want to Write
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_———_— ee ———
WESTERNETTES
A Roundup of Range - News Oddities By HAROLD HELFER
What’s in a name?’ Boxwell Bros. is an Amarillo, Texas, undertaking concern. And on the lighter side—to be taken with a dash of syrup—was the marriage in Ruidoso, New Mexico, of Mr. Buckwheat to Miss Pancake.
Montana has 24 fishing ponds for small fry. You have to be 12 years old or under to fish in them. It doesn’t say anything about
%
a mentality of 12 years or under, but we -
guess we won't chance it.
Now here are a couple of pretty corny items: Popcorn was introduced to the white man by Columbus, who found the Indians popping it to make necklaces. Whereas a friendly Indian named Samoset is credited with introducing corn to our ancestors in 1621. This latter was the pure vegetable, no - doubt, and we don’t mean the 100-proof stuff they make back in the hills, neither.
Captain A. H. Hardy, a friend of Buffalo Bill, could etch out on a board all sorts of portraits and landscape pictures by firing away with a sixgun. Which brings to mind the kind of “etch” you've got to scratch, and which the great buffalo herds had in such
vast numbers they almost put the first tele- graph company out of business. Using the telegraph poles as scratching posts, they used to wear them out by the score, or so ’tis said.
There’s a million-year-old filling station at -
Lamar, Colorado—it’s made out of petrified wood, Wooden you know? 5 _ Hamby Patterson, 70-year-old Gainseville blacksmith, made himself a set of false teeth out of aluminum pans. It doesn’t happen to mention whether this Gainseville is the Flori- da, Georgia, or Cook County, Texas, one. But we've got our suspicions.
Hell’s Canyon, on the Snake River be- tween Idaho and Oregon, is deeper than the Grand Canyon of the Colorado and narrower across the rims. What a chassis—er, would
you be so kind as to get lost for a couple
minutes, Miss Contour—a chasm, that is.
What a chasm!
Thomas Jefferson believed that mammoths, the prehistoric elephantlike beasts, roamed our great plains and he instructed the ex-
-plorers, Lewis and Clark, to look for them on
9
their Western explorations. Well, anyhow, they found Oregon.
ao Hatfield slammed-his fist to Robusto’s jaw
"
The Lone Wolf, posing as an outlaw, knew the beautiful widow hated
rangers. But she wielded vast power and he needed help. . . . Taal of the
A Jim Hatfield Novel by JACKSON COLE 3%
CHAPTER I
Dangerous Mission
. NHE two of them were big men, handsome men. _ They walked side by side, close, like friends—or,
since they somewhat resembled each other, like broth-
ers. In the rainy dark there was nobody on the street
before the Capitol building in Austin to notice that
the two were bound: together not by friendship or by
11
a ad
od
12 TEXAS RANGERS
ties of blood, but by a set of handcuffs. It was past midnight. The magnificent red granite building was mostly dark.
The two men mounted its broad steps, , then at the entrance one held back. The
other said, firmly but not unkindly, “Come along, Tom.”
He took the reluctant one inside, their boot heels and spurs making a clatter in the empty corridors. They turned into a lamplighted office where four men wait- ed. One man sat at the desk; he was the Attorney General of the State of Texas. One man lounged in an armchair; he was Captain Bill McDowell, head of the Texas Rangers, a man white of hair and mus- tache that revealed his age, and bright, youthful eyes that somehow belied it. The other two were standing by the doorway at attention, one to either side of it. They were members of the Frontier Battalion, the Texas Rangers. The four men stared with a lively interest at the two who en-
tered. .
Seen in the acaptent ibe resemblance between the two was less pronounced. They were of a size, yes. They had the same bold, well-formed features—in a general sense. But the one who took a key from his pocket and unlocked the manacles—he wearing a Ranger’s badge, —appeared at the moment mild-manner- ed, and showed an easy smile. The other man’s face was tougher and, scowling,
he looked almost savage. There was no
difficulty in telling which was lawman and which was outlaw.
The Attorney General, a heavy, florid man, said, marveling, “Yes, it might work. If Hatfield is willing to run the risks, he
may have a chance of pulling it off.”
The big man who had removed the handcuffs looked at him curiously, a question in his gray-green eyes.
Captain McDowell asked, “Did he give
_ you any trouble, Jim?”
Hatfield shraveed. “Not saaidi to men- tion.”
The prisoner swore. “If I’d had any warning, Jim Hatfield would be buzzard bait by now. But the damned Lone Wolf
Injuned up on me and—”
PS On oe
~need to tell us.’
McDowell cut in, “All a Tall Tom. We know you Te é bad Sombre. You don’t ’ His youthful eyes were amused. “We’ve been reading all about you in the newspapers. Have you seen the papers, Dolan? Right now you’re the most notorious outlaw in the entire United States.” :
Tall Tom Dolan cursed him.
C DOWELL, seeing the questioning look in Jim Hatfield’s eyes, said, “Jim, step off and take a good look at Tall Tom.” Hatfield obeyed, looking at the prisoner from a distance of perhaps six feet.
“What do you see?” McDowell asked.
Hatfield smiled. “He could be a relative of mine, heaven forbid.”
His chief nodded, then rose and gestur- ed to the two Rangers by the doorway. They stepped forward, each taking Dolan by the arm. The outlaw went berserk. With a shouted oath, he began a savage struggling against the two, and for a mo- ment it seemed that they would not -be © able to subdue him. There was great strength in Dolan, a | part of it sheer wild- ness..
The Attorney General looked .alarmed, but Captain Bill McDowell merely smiled. He had the utmost faith in the ability of — his Rangers to handle even such a power- ful brute as Tall Tom Dolan. |
Jim Hatfield watched with something like admiration for the outlaw. Badman
Dolan might be, but Hatfield knew that
there were aihiy few men who could put up a fight against two Rangers—and Hatfield whom the old Ranger chief long ago had dubbed the Lone Wolf, couldn’t help respecting any man who was that games |
They finally bested Dolan, and man- acled his hands. By then both Rangers were out of breath, and looking a bit sheepish. Tall Tom Dolan was hardly winded.
McDowell said, “You’ve got your or- ders, boys. Take him to that secret place and keep him guarded night and day. No- body’s to come within a hundred feet of
ee
‘TRAIL OF THE DESERT WITCH 13
the building, and—I don’t need to remind you—you re sworn to secrecy. Nobody is to know that Dolan has been recaptured. All right. Take him away.”
No man to waste time or to beat about the bush, the chief of the Texas Rangers turned to the Lone Wolf. McDowell was grim, though it had often been said of him that he would charge hell with a bucket of water.
“That’s right, Jim,” he said. “Tall Tom Dolan looks enough Hike you to be a close relation, even a brother. The resemblance -ain’t enough to fool anybody who knows
JIM HATFIELD —
Dolan into believing you are ‘Tom’, but —well, I’m going to ask you to pretend you're him. That’s why I had you bring him in-at this hour of night—secretly. Now—”’
“One moment, Captain,’ the Attorney General interrupted. “I think you should give Ranger Hatfield an opportunity to refuse this mission. I made it clear that this is no ordinary case, and that he should be sent only if he volunteers. The danger is great. It may mean certain death. At best, it’s a gamble against odds.” ~ McDowell chuckled. Lone Wolf,” he said, “I’d gamble a month’s
“Knowing the
@
pay he’s already volunteered. What you say, Jim?”’
“You know you can always count on me, Cap’n Bill.”
The Attorney General shook his head, as though unable to imagine that any man, even a Ranger, would volunteer for a mission which was too risky to order a man upon ‘iit. He said, “Very well. As Mc- Dowell. says, Hatfield, we want you to pose as Tall Tom Dolan.”
~Hatfield nodded. He was somewhat sur- prised. Dolan had been picked up by some Rangers merely because of his reputa- tion, and because he was wanted by the law in Wyoming, Montana, Utah, Colora-
do, and perhaps elsewhere. He had been
taken into custody on his first day in Tex- as, and before he could commit any crime in the Lone Star State.
A great hullabaloo had arisen over the man’s arrest, due to‘his being one of Butch Cassidy’s Wild Bunch, a member of the notorious Hoie-in-the-Wall gang. The ex- citement had been caused by the fact that Dolan had never before been arrested. The excitement had spread beyond Tex-
as. Every newspaper in the country had
heralded the outlaw’s capture.
Anid then Tall Tom Dolan had escaped,
only to be recaptured by the Lone Wolf.
Jim Hatfield began to suspect, from what was being said in this office now, that the escape had been engineered, with
the outlaw’s knowledge, by Captain Mc-_
Dowell and the Attorney General—for good reason. He couldn’t guess at that reason, since Dolan had not been active in Texas.
Pi‘HE Attorney General = “Your getting away with such an im- posture depends upon your not running into anyone who knows the man. And your chances are good. Dolan came to Texas because of a girl he knew in Wy-
- oming. She is now working in a dance-hall
at Fort Worth. So you won’t run into her. Dolan was born here, but he left the state when he was seventeen and he’s changed considerably. And he has no relatives here.” He glanced at McDowell. “Want
continued,
a = TEXAS: RANGERS
‘to take it from there, Bill?” |
McDowell viotlded. and. said crisply, “Your danger first off, Jim, will be from Texas lawmien—Raigers. drecifts: depu- ties, marshals. When you leave here, to- night, you'll be an outdaw on the dodge. _ We'll raise a hue and cry. And you'll have to elude pursuit and keep out of traps. You'll have to leave a trail though, some- how, so’s word spreads that youre still in Texas.”
Hatfield smiled. ‘““You mean that I’m to let a lawman or two catch sight of me— as Dolan?”
pi ght. ”
“Which way am I e head?”
“Into the Big Bend.”
Hatfield said, “Outlaw country.”
“That’s it,’ McDowell told him. “And
S all this soerainie) is so’s the Big Bend out-
laws will believe you’re Tall Tom Dolan. While. you head in that direction, word will spread ahead of you. Them palinas
have their own grapevine and they’ll find:
out you're on your way.”
“And once I’m accepted as Dolan?”
“Tf,” said the Attorney General. “If you are accepted.”
Hatfield glanced at him. “Excuse me, sir, but I don’t like to consider the possi- bility of failure. In this case, failure will mean—well, my death.”
“Sorry. Go on, Bill.”
McDowell went on, “Once you're ac- cepted, you’re to try to join up with a wild bunch headed by a man named Shayne. A _ soldier of fortune, Major Bucky Shayne. Find out where the Shayne crowd’s hide-out is, and any other information you can get. You'll have one contact ‘in Big Bend—Ben Tyson, a store- keeper at a town called Muleshoe. ves relay information to me.’
“T’m to trust Tyson ceucaleteig?"
“Yeah, and nobody else.’ McDowell said. “Ben Tyson’s been a listening post, so to speak, for the Rangers for several years. When we get your information from him, a company of Rangers’ll move in and take Shayne’s hide-out. “And— his voice turned harsh— “we've, got to round up = whole gang, Jim
He began pacing the floor, one of the few times Hatfield nad ever seen him really upset.
He said, “Ranger prestige is at dake: Jim. We've tried to trap Shayne and wipe out his bunch a half-dozen times, but be- cause of that grapevine I mentioned, he’s always managed to get away. And what could we do, not knowing the location of his hide-out. His bunch not only work Texas, New Mexico, and Arizona, some- times, but they also raid down in Mexico.
“Shayne, being a soldier of fortune, like I said, knows people in most Latin- American countries. He’s in cahoots: now with a Mexican bandido named Ramon Merardo. You’ve heard of Merardo, I reckon. Claims he’s a revoluntionist. But all Mexican bandits say they’re revolu- tionists. Merardo was a colonel in the Mexican Army once. Now he calls himself General Merardo, and says his bandits are
soldiers. Says he leading an army of lib-
eration. And he’s got Chihuahua and Coahuila in a turmoil. He’s wiped out Federal troops in a dozen battles, and even
the Rurales can’t handle him. Merardo
——— “A question, Captain,’ Hatfield inter- rupted. : McDowell stopped pacing. “Yes?” “How do you mean Shayne is in Ca- hoots with Merardo?”
“He’s furnishing Merardo with supplies —guns, ammunition, horseshoes, provi- sions—for his fool ‘army’, that’s how.”
“And for that Merardo lets Shayne raid across the Rio Grande?”
“That’s it. This here ‘liberator’ lets a bandit from another country prey on his own people.” Disgust was in McDowell’s voice. “Like I said, the Rurales haven’t been able to~handle Merardo. That’s got under their hide. And so, to get rid of the itch, they’re making a big fuss about the Shayne gang.” An expert at express- ing his explosive feelings, McDowell swore feelingly “And that’s why Ranger prestige is at stake, Jim. The head of the Mexican Rurales has sent me a message. It’s a plumb ultimatum, in fact. He’s warned that if the Rangers don’t wipe out
‘the Shayne gang, the Rurales’ll cross the Rio Grande into the Big Bend country, and do it themselves!”
ATFIELD’S bronzed face hardened. “Captain,” he drawled, “it seems to me that Tall Tom Dolan had better get started for the Big Bend, pronto.” — ~~ Both McDowell and the Attorney Gen- eral nodded. 3 .
The Ranger chief said, “There ain’t no time to lose. If the Rurales should cross into Texas, itll cause international trou- ble. But itll sure give the Texas Rangers a black eye if they should wipe out the Shayne crowd. Texans couldn’t live it down.”
“Tl get going,” said Hatfield.
“One moment, Jim,” McDowell said. “You're to get in touch with Ben Tyson enly when you’ve got some information to send. First off. you'll head straight to a ranch in the Big Bend called the X Bar X—Folks call it the Doubletross Ranch. We got reason to suspect that the supplies Bucky Shayne furnishes to Merardo reach him through X Bar X Ranch.” He naused, seeing a change of expression on the Lone Wolf's face. “You’ve heard about the X Bar x?
Hatfield nodded. sir.”
“Yeah, that’s true enough,” McDowell said. “And it’s not the best place in the world to send a Ranger, even though it’s owned by a woman—and a beautiful wom- an, at that. But if Shayne is getting sup-
plies through the X Bar X Ranch, there’s the logical place for you to get a line on the Big Bend outlaws in a hurry.”
Hatfield nodded. “Is there anything more, Cap’n Bill?”
me So es McDowell said. you = Jim.’
They shook hands, and the Attorney General rose and came from ‘behind his desk to offer his hand to the Lone Wolf.
Hatfield turned to the door, paused there to smile wryly'at the two men. And to say, “Well, here goes Tall Tom Dolan.” He went on then, out of the Capitol building into the rainy darkness, think-
Peery Ranger has,
“Except. to wish
TRAIL OF THE DESERT WITCH © —(sssi—‘“i‘<‘iSH CCS ing that now he would incan what it was = :
like to be on the wrong side of the law. And thinking, too, of what lay ahead,
especially of the X Bar X Ranch and af
the woman who owned it. Yes, he’d heard of her. Lanya Forbes. A widew. A beau-— tiful woman, they said. And she hated. Rangers with a hatred that was an ob- session. Her rustler husband had been killed by Rangers.
Down in the vast, wild, lonely country ~
that was the Big Bend, she was known as the Desert Witch.
cena ee a Se
CHAPTER II
The Widow Forbes
of the sluggish Rio Grande, nine thou- sand square miles of forbidding desert and craggy mountains. Its population ran to one person for every twénty square
if es country nestled in the embrace
-miles, by census. The outlaws there were
uncounted.
Jim Hatfield had ridden this Big Bend
- country some years before, tracking down
The land had not changed
a murderer.
since. In fact, it had not changed greatly _
from prehistoric times, Hatfield reflected.
Five nights lay between him and his midnight conference with the Attorney General and Captain McDowell—five hec- tic nights, with the days even wilder. The net that had been spread for Tall Tom Dolan enveloped most of Texas. Every
lawman had been alerted, and most ordi-
nary citizens were watchful, eager for the “slory” of recapturing or killing the out- law. The Lone Wolf, playing his réle to the hilt, had had a dozen narrow escapes as he traveled toward the Big Bend.
Four Rangers, coached in their réle as he had been in his, had kept on his trail. They’d made a great show of attempting to
-run him down, without really crowding him. And upon reaching a ranch, settle-. ~ _ment or town, they’ d deliberately revealed
They :
that they were on Dolan’s trail.
- “16 < : :
would “lose” his trail now that he was into the Big Bend, Hatfield had ridden a zigzag trail, in
the fashion of a man on the dodge. He
had deliberately let himself be seen, and _had acted furtively. At sight of riders, he had suddenly been in a great hurry. He had circled around numerous ranch head- quarters, but always letting himself be
‘seen. He had ridden through towns and
settlements, hand to gun, and pretending nervousness. Men had tried to stop him. Riders had pursued him. Shots had been fired at him. Time and again he had es- caped only because his great golden sorrel, Goldie, was faster than the mounts of the men = on taking him. | He went unshaven and Gicecher and had taken on the hardened look of a man in flight. Hunger put hollows in his cheeks
- and, he imagined, gave him a wolfish look.
He ate just enough to keep his strength up, and obtained grub by seeking an oc- easional hand-out at some lonely ranch where it wasn’t likely that word of his presence in the neighborhood would be known.
At some ranches, it had been known,
_ and he’d had to ride on fast, still hungry.
On one occasion he’d obtained food at gun-point. On another, at a Mexican vil- lage, he’d gone into the only store and or- dered a few provisions, then carried them from the place without paying. The store- keeper had raised a great fuss in the plaza. The provisions, in a flour-sack, the Lone Wolf had tied to his saddle-horn. He’d swung to the saddle, lifted Goldie to a hard run as the merchant’s wild yelling had brought the pags from their *dobes.
Yes, he had traveled a ioe zig- zag trail. But it had always carried him
toward the Big Bend. And now, on this
sixth: ‘day, he was deep into the country.
He followed a road south; a trace more than a road, since there were few wagons traveling in and out of the Big-Bend. It Jed to Muleshoe, where Ben Tyson’s store was located, anid it passed the X Bar X Ranch. It led: him through the wildest sort of country: sometimes there were cactus-
‘TEXAS RANGERS
studded flats, cornet mesquite- grown thickets so fanpled that a rider would have.
difficulty finding a way through them if
he left the road; sometimes stretches. of grotesquely eroded terrain cut by deep
gullies and with craggy bluffs.
It was now mid-afternoon, and he had traveled most of last night, except for a _
few hours sleep, then on again at gray dawn, aiming at a range of bare -hills.
He had seen no riders on the road nor off from it, but now, nearly to the hills, he. glimpsed an hei cow in the brush
or out across some bunchgrass flat, so -
knew he must be approaching a ranch. He
came to a fork in the road abruptly. One branch turned southwest while the other aimed southeast toward a V-shaped notch in the hills. He took the one to the south- east. :
He was within perhaps a quarter of a mile of the cut when he was taken by sur- prise by three riders who rushed at him from a mesquite thicket—vaqueros on half-tamed mustangs. They covered him with guns. Two were young men, one old and gaunt and gray.
The old man said, “Where you go, hom-
bre?”
ATFIELD looked at their grim faces, their hostile eyes, their threatening guns. They’d given him a start, but now he realized that if they were bent on kill-
ing him, they would have done so from
ambush: This was a time to play his out- law réle the very best he could. He scowled at them as Tall Tom Dolan would have done.
“What business is it of yours?” he growled. “Answer me that.”
The aged vaquero did*not look less hos- tile but, in the way of his race, he was polite. “Tt is my business, senor, because you are riding X Bar X range, a I, Her- nandez Gonzales, am mayordomo of the a» Bar-X.”’
“What is this X Bar X? A cross- -dog outfit?” —
“Como?” =
“A man can’t cross X Bar X range?”
“Strangers are not wanted, sefior.”
TRAIL OF THE DESERT WITCH . 2 Nv
“IT follow the road to Muleshoe,” Hat- field said. Then, with a Dolan-like oath, “T aim to keep on following it!”
Gonzales holstered his gun, but the oth- er two kept Hatfield covered. The three of them talked it over in Spanish. They took it for granted that he did not under- stand the language, it seemed, but Hatfield spoke it well. One of the young men was of a mind that they should turn the gringo
_ back the way he had come. Somebody—
a man called Robusto—would. not like it if the stranger were permitted to ride on to X Bar X headquarters, The name “Dolan” fell from the excited lips of the other young vaquero, and he said that it would not be right to send the stranger, if he were the outlaw, back into the arms of the men hunting ie So Hatfield knew . that word of his coming into the Big Bend had indeed traveled ahead of him.
- Old Hernandez Gonzales had a straggly gray mustache, and he_ thoughtfully tugged at it. Finally he said that the sehora would not like it if they were the - cause of the Rangers catching up with a man, no matter how bad the man might ‘be. The sefora with her hatred of the Rangers. Gonzales turned to Hatfield.
“We will take you to headquarters,” he said. “Then if Robusto says you must go back, you will go back. If he says that you may go on across our. range—” He shrugged. “Come, sefior. We ride.”
He swung in beside the Lone Wolf, and
the other two, still with drawn guns, fol-’
lowed. They jogged along the road toward the notch in the hills.
Hatfield said, “This Robusto—who is he?”
“He is head man at the x Bar X. El jefe.” -“T thought you were the mayordomo, the ranch boss.”
A frown came to Gonzales’s leathery.
face. After a moment’s thought, he said,
“That is true. I am the ranch boss. But.
between me and Senora Forbes, who owns the rancho, there is Robusto. It is one of
those things, senor, that cannot be ex-
plained. Ae “He’s her man, eh?”
own eyes.
“VYes—and no.” “Oh?” os
“She is never without him - Gonzales |
said. “But other than that Well, as I said, there are things that cannot he ex- plained. He is always with her, and he dees no work around the ranch. But if she has him for her man—” He shook his head . “I have seen nothing with my Still, he is a handsome man, this Robusto, and the sefiora is a widow.
They fell silent. Between them and the cut in the hills a dust whirlwind raced across a flat, cavorted among some boul-
ders, whipped across the road. But here
in the Big Bend, Hatfield knew, they were called desert witéhes. And, he recalled, the Widow Forbes
was called the Desert Witch. He wondered |
why, and the prospect that he would soon find out about her excited him. He had his doubts that she would be as beautiful as he had heard she was. It didn’t seem possible that a beautiful woman would be called a witch.
Still, aman was always hopeful. Beauty wasn’t common.
VHE X Bar X Ranch headquarters was
located in a bow of the hills, and when Jim Hatfield saw it, as he emerged from the pass with the three vaqueros, he stared in amazement. He had expected the crudest sort of buildings here in the back country, but the Forbes woman had built well and handsomely.
, Her ranch house was low and sprawl-
ing, beneath a red-tile roof, and it had a high-walled patio. Her outbuildings and the little houses of the married vaqueros had viga roofs instead of tile, but the
buildings were arranged in an orderly
fashion about the wide ranchvyard and each had a well-kept look. The fences of the corrals were in fine repair.
Along a shallow creek that twisted past
the place young cottonwoods grew, and Hatfield knew that they had been hand:
planted. In a word, he decided, the: ? é: ree X was a show place. FD ates He remembered the story e Bes for-
bes. Her husband had owned a ranch on
ever ony bee WS,
the Llano, atid ‘the had been doing well. He had met her in Fort Worth, when he had trailed a herd there. She had been visiting a sister, the wife of an Army of- ficer. She’d been from somewhere in the East. No doubt she had had plenty of
- suitors, but Sam Forbes had courted her
and won her in a week’s time.
She had journeyed to the Llano River country, as his bride. But marriage hadn’t reformed the man, a born gambler. A
high-stake gambler. In time, Forbes had
gambled himself deep into debt and to buy
back his IOU’s he had sold off too many
of his cattle and mortgaged his ranch. Then, in the hope of recouping his losses, he had turned to large-scale rustling— with the inevitable result. But instead of submitting to arrest, Forbes and his rustler crew had put up a fight. Again
with the inevitable result.
Mrs. Forbes had refused to believe that her husband was a rustler, and she fought to clear her dead Inushend’s name and to have the Rangers who killed him tried:as murderers. She had managed to have them brought to trial, but they had been acquitted. The evidence had been strong against"Sam Fogbes. She had appealed to the Governor of Texas. woman, Lanya Forbes. |
Failing to clear her husband’s name, but still believing him innocent, she had bitterly denounced the Texas Rangers in front of.the Governor, the Attorney Gen- eral, and Captain McDowell. She had said
She would move away from a range where
as she claimed, men wearing badges coaad persecute and kill innocent people.
She had sold
“And here she had transformed her por- tion of the. wilderness.
‘Hatfield ‘saw Mexican children and women. about the cluster of adobe huts,
Se: oe
aie the ce nt in sight was a black-
. Psa and Hatfield amas oe it — fo the man called Robusto.
A strong-willed |
= out. the Llano ranch, and moved to the wild Big Bend.
18 | ‘TEXAS RANGERS"
Then, as he and his escort reined in and dismounted, the Ranger saw that the animal was not in the X BAR X iron but was wearing a CS Connected brand. Gonzales told the two vaqueros te re- main by the gate, and gestured for Hat- field’ to follow him. Entering the patio, the Lone Wolf found it a pleasant spot. A flagstone walk ran through well-tended flower beds. There was a roofed well shaded by a sizable cottonwood tree. Along the adobe house was a long gallery, and three people—two men and a woman —stood upon it. They were in a violent argument. Or rather, the woman and one of the men were arguing. The other
‘man was amused, grinning.
Old Hernandez Gonzales halted short
of the gallery, stood with sombrero in hand, waiting to be noticed. Hatfield
halted beside him and took out mak- ings, studying the people on the gallery as he built a cigarette.
The woman was a beauty. Tall, shapely, proud of bearing, auburn-haired. The descriptions of her had not been ex- - aggerated. On the contrary!
Angry though she was, her voice was low and perfectly controlled. Only its tone revealed her loss of temper, as she
said, “Robusto, take Mr. Styles out to his
he and see that he rides off X Bar X range—and stays off
TYLES interested Jim Hatfield. He was dressed like a townsman rather than a back- -country man. In this country, rough and serviceable clothing was called for, but Styles wore a white shirt, a ma- roon string tie, a fine suit of gray broad- cloth, and military-type boots. Only his broad-brimmed stetson fitted here. He was a man of about fifty, gray at the temples, and with a neat gray mustache. He was of medium height, slightly built, sallow of complexion. He reminded Hat- field of a tradesman, a banker, a pro- fessional man—anything but a vides: of the wild Big Bend. But there was an ugly look in his eyes, a certain viciousness to his voice. He said, “I warn you, Mrs. Forbes! I bought
“So you, handsome, are Tall to Dolan,”
and paid for that strip of range and—”
“Robusto,” the woman said.
The man she called Robusto laughed and stepped forward. He took Styles by the arm, and said, “You heard the lady, hombre. Let’s go!”
Styles tried to wrench loose, but Ro- busto’s grip was viselike. He turned the ~dudish man about, escorted him down from the gallery as though he were a small boy. His hold caused Style’s face to stiffen with pain.
Robusto was well-named, Hatfield re- flected. He was well over six feet tall, a bit taller than the Lone Wolf, and heavily built. Robust. He was about twenty-seven or -eight, huge for a Mexican, for the men of that race usually afe not large
of stature. But now, as Robusto and
o
she said
Styles passed him, Hatfield saw that the burly, handsome man was only part Mex- ican. His eyes were a surprising china blue. And bright with a look of deviltry.
As the two men passed through the patio gate, the woman looked at Jim Hat-
field. Her eyes were as green as the at-—
tractive dress she wore. “Hernandez, who is this?”
“We found him riding X Bar x range, :
senora.’
“Oh? And why have you brought him here?”
‘“Senora—” Gousales Ss manner was al-
most servile, as he held his sombrero to his chest, his head slightly bowed— “Ro-
busto gave me orders that ‘no strangers
19
are to be permitted to cross X Bar x range.”
S
gers.
20 | _ "TEXAS RANGERS
“Indeed? But that doesn’t explain why
you've brought this man here.”
“IT thought you would not want him turned back, sefora. Because of the Ran- He is running from them, and—”
Lanya Forbes gave Hatfield another look. “You’re Tall Tom Dolan?”
Hatfield took a long drag on his ciga- rette. He was quite certain that the genuine Tall Tom Dolan would not ad- mit his identity to a stranger. So he said, “Smith is the name. Just plain Smith, ma’am.” —
The lovely green eyes were still angry.
“Don’t lie to me!” she snapped. “You’re -
Dolan, the outlaw.”
Robusto returned from sending Styles away. | |
Lanya Forbes said, “Bring this man in- side.” And to Gonzales, “You may go.”
She turned into the house.
Robusto looked Hatfield over. ‘Tall Tom Dolan, eh?” he said. “We had word you were headed in this direction.” He still grinned, as though grinning were habitual with him, but his blue eyes were wary as they sized up Hatfield. “Inside, hombre. You heard the lady.”
Hatfield gazed at him for a moment,
rubbed the wrong way by the man’s arro-
gant manner. It would be easy to have trouble with Robusto. He decided that too much was at stake to risk it by picking a quarrel with him, however, so turned into ‘the house. Biokaicic ioe. The room they entered was an office, a comfortably furnished office. There was a huge fireplace at one side of the room, book-filled shelves at the other. There was thick carpet underfoot, and besides
the desk, at which the Forbes woman
had seated herself, there were armchairs and a large sofa. An inviting room, and
not too feminine. A man could have en-
joyed his leisure hours there.
Lanya Forbes said, “Our visitor claims his name is Smith, Robusto.”
ART ‘T think it is something else.”
Robusto was evidently a frequent visi-.
tor to this room. He went to the desk and
perched with one oe upon the edge of it.
= =
He kept eying Hatfield, ee wnhing faintly. He said, “I think his name could be Dolan.”
“He was crossing our range,” the woman said. “I’d like to know why. And I don’t like anybody to lie to me.” ‘She paused, looking from one man to the other. Then,
- “Robusto, do you think you can make this
smart aleck admit that his name is not Smith?”
“Si, senora,’ said Robusto. “No man lies to Esteban Maldonado y O’Reilly!”
He came away apes the desk, came at Hatfield. 3 3
His grin broadened, and a wicked gleam danced in his eyes. Here was a man, the Lone Wolf realized, as he braced himself, who loved a fight. |
CHAPTER Iil
An Enticing Proposition
OBUSTO wore a gun, its holster tied down in the fashion of quick-draw artists, and there was the hilt of a knife protruding from his right boot. But at
the moment, he seemed to think his fists
were weapons enough. From the first moment, however, the Lone Wolf thought otherwise. |
Robusto might be big and powerful, and capable of handling most men. But he was also a fool, for he closed in fast with- out protecting himself. He was wide open as he launched a blow at Hatfield’s face.
The Ranger dodged the punch, and jabbed at Robusto’s left ribs. He con- nected twice, and heard the man grunt with shock. He shifted his attack to the man’s face, rapping: him smartly across the nose with his knuckles. His blows were intended to sting: He wanted to hurt his man, infuriate him. And he succeeded. Robusto yelled an oath, flung himself forward, tried to catch Hatfield in'a bear “hug. Backing, the Ranger stepped to avoid the man’s arms, and. jabbed twice more to the face.
~*~
TRAIL OF THE DESERT WITCH 2 21
Robusto halted flat- footed, stared in surprise. Hatfield glanced beyond him, at the woman seated at the desk. Her face was expressionless, but there was a lively excitement in her eyes.
She said coolly, “Well, are you going to let him get away with that, Robusto?”
Hatfield thought he knew now why ee
was called the Desert Witch.
Robusto, stung by her mocking tone, drove at Hatfield with a shout of rage. He was still clumsy, but this time he managed to duck a punch thrown at him and to take Hatfield about the middle with an embrace that he quickly tight- ened. He slammed his head against the Lone Wolf’s chest, knocking off his hat, ‘then moved his head down below Hat- field’s breastbone and applied pressure.
For a moment Hatfield feared that the man had him, the pain was so intense. He tried to pry Robusto’s arms loose, but they kept tightening, and the man’s head continued to exert pressure. Desperate, Hatfield grabbed him by the hair and suc- ceeded in pulling his head back. ‘With his left hand he clubbed a blow to Ro- busto’s ear. The man grunted with pain, loosened his hold; but drove a knee to the Lone Wolf’s groin as he moved away.
Agony bent Hatfield double, and Ro- busto, with a gleeful yell, closed in and drove a blow to the back of*his opponent’s head. Hatfield’.went to his knees, but flung his arms about Robusto’s legs. He heaved upward and threw the man over backward. Robusto landed on his head and shoulders with a great thump. Hat- field waited; smiling thinly.
“Come on, Robusto,” he taunted. “You |
can do better than all that for the lady!” Robusto lay there for a long moment, his grin gone and his eyes bright with hatred. Then he came to his left hand - and his knees, and his right hand closed on the hilt of the knife in his boot.
The woman said sharply, “No, Ro- busto!”’
He hesitated, viewing at her. ‘Hatfield said, “Let him Bo. Til take
- that knife and—” The man sprang at him, the long- bladed
knife raised for a downward thrust. It wasn’t the way to use a knife in combat. The blade should have been held outward from the forward part of the hand, for an upward thrust that it was impossible to parry. Hatfield had time enough to close in under the lifted arm, and to grab the wrist. He not only kept the blow from falling, but slammed his right fist to Robusto’s jaw.
This time it was no light jab, but a punch with all the Lone Wolf’s weight behind it. Robusto staggered. His knees buckled. Hatfield released his wrist, let him collapse to the floor, and kicked the knife from the dazed man’s hand. After a moment, Robusto picked himself. up by using a chair as a prop. He stood sway- ing. He was ——- from the corner of his mouth.
Lanya Forbes rose and came from be-
hind the desk, looked at him with some- -
thing like disgust. “And you’re forever bragging you're tough,” she said. “Pick up your knife and leave me alone with this man. I can handle him, if you can’t.”
Surprisingly, Robusto obeyed. He was accustomed to taking her orders.
When he reached the door, she said, “And don’t lay for him when he leaves.
: You understand?”
E HALF-TURNED, stared at her with his face working. He glanced at Hatfield ,jthen back at her. “Si,” he said. “I understand. You think he will fill my place.” He paused, then added, * ‘Senora, do not make an enemy of me.’
And he went out.
She was silent a moment, thougktiulie Then, with a shrug that ssemed to dismiss the man from her thoughts, she said, “All right. You’ve won the right to call your-
self Smith or anything else you like.”
He smiled. “Call me Dolan, if you like.”
She nodded. “You’re quite a man. Tall Tom Dolan. As much a man as I heard. It’s too bad you’re an outlaw. You can’t be trusted. Still, I’ve a notion to take a chance on- you. Do you want a job, Dolan?” =
“Filling Robusto’s boots?”
TEXAS RANGERS
“Not exactly. He’s still a good man, even though he couldn’t whip you. I haven’t decided to get rid of him. It could be that I have use for you both.”
“It'd end up with him killing me, or me killing him.”
“No. I can hold him in check.”
“Just what is he around here?”
She met his gaze steadily, but a flush stained her checks. “He’s my bodyguard,” she said. “I’m a widow. A woman with- out a man in this country— Well, I wouldn’t have any security at all if it weren't for Robusto, or another man like him. He’s that and nothing more. You'll have to take my word for it. But—” she gave another small shrug— “it doesn’t matter to me whether you believe it or not. Do you want to go on my pay-roll?”
“Maybe you want me to take care of |
the other man who just left here?”
“Carter Styles? Well, maybe I do.” - “And some others?”
“It’s possible.”
Hatfield considered a moment. He’d had erders to come to the X Bar X Ranch on the chance that here he could learn some- thing of the Shayne outlaw crowd. But it seemed that if he hired on, he would be involved in this woman’s affairs to such an extent that he might miss out on that chance. And there was too little time in which to obtain the information Captain McDowell needed so urgently. |
Still undecided, he said, “Give me a
-~ little time to think it over.”
“Why?” she said. “Have you something else to do?”
“I figured I’d drift deeper into the Big
Bend.” “The Rangers won’t come here for you,” she said. And her hatred of the
Texas Rangers made her voice ugly. “But think it over. Stay overnight. Give me ‘ your answer in the morning. You can sleep in the bunkhouse, get supper and breakfast at the cookshack.” Then, after a moment of sizing him up, “You may go, Dolan.”
= He lanohed then went to the door- way. And said from there, “You're quite a woman. Mrs. Forhes. Tve never own
s.
Fe 2 cre oes ol
one quite like you.” .
A slight smile touched her lips. “And you'll never know another quite. like me,’ she said. “My character has been shaped and tempered by trouble. I have what few women possess, a will of my own. I’m making my way in a man’s world, and I have to be hard and smart, or I’d be crushed. I’m self-sufficient. I’ve offered-you a job, but that doesn’t mean I can’t get along without you: If you de- cide to take it, don’t get any notion that you'll be indispensible.”
He waited, sensing that she wasn’t fin- ished. 7 .
She wasn’t. “As I said, it’s too bad you're an outlaw—as well as quite a man. As an honest man, you might have made yourself endiepencite”
“A man can reform—with a woman’s help.”
“Tll need proof of that.”
“Maybe T’ll be able to furnish it, if I take the job.”
Her eyes challenged him. “We’ll see,” she said.
He nodded, and went out.
HE RANGER took his horse to the
corrals, off-saddled, then carried his bedroll to the big adobe bunkhouse. The point of a knife pricked his back the mo-- ment he entered the building, and the door slammed shut. He tensed.
“Robusto?”
“That’s right, hombre. You feel this knife?”
“T feel it.” 7
“A little more pressure, my friend, and you would be a dead one,” said Robusto O’Reilly.. The knife jabbed, causing Hat- field to wince. Then the pressure was eased. “So I let you live. In a way, a now owe me your life.”
Hatfield did not move a muscle. He stood frozen, his bedroll on his left shoul- der. “You have a queer kind of logic, you Irish-Mexican,” he said. “Why didn’t you knife me when I walked in?” -
“The sefora is taken by you. If I kill you, she will hate me.” -
“And besides. vou want something of
TRAIL OF THE DESERT WITCH 23
me, now that I owe you my life?”
“Si. You are not to take the job she offered you.”
“So you listened at the door, eh?”
“I make the sefora’s affairs my affairs,” Robusto said. “I am a jealous man, Senor Dolan. If you stay here, I will lose out with the senora. Then I would surely kill you. She would hate me, and it would take me a long time to get her over hating me. I speak logic, no?” |
“You speak logic, yes.”
“And you will be sensible?”
Hatfield felt the prick of the knife again. “T’ll be sensible,” he said, and shoved his bedroll back off his shoulder into Ro- busto’s face. -
A Spanish oath fell from the man’s lips
and Hatfield, leaping away, whirled and
grabbed out one of his twin Colts. Robusto backed against the door. the knife now a useless thing in his hand.
Hatfield smiled. ‘Put that knife back in your boot, amigo,” he said. “I'll holster my gun. We'll talk things over in friendly fashion.”
Robusto was a bit crestfallen as he bent and slid thé knife into his boot. Then straightening, “We'll talk it over?” “Yall Tom Dolan is no man to tie him- ~ self to a job,” Hatfield said. “The law is too close behind me. Your Sefiora Forbes said that the Rangers won’t come here. Me, I’m not so sure. I’m heading deeper into the wild country, first thing in the
morning, and I aim to tell the lady so. ©
If I travel far enough, maybe I'll find some of my own kind of hombres here in the Bend.”
A look of relief spread over Robusto’s
face. “Maybe I can help you find your own kind,” he said. ‘““There are many out- laws in the Big Bend, but a man must know how to find them.”’
“You can help me find them?”
“T will send a couple vaqueros with
you as guides,’ Robusto said. His grin returned. “We are friends now, no?”
Hatfield grinned back. “We are friends now, yes,” he said.
But he was not so sure. ...
The ranch hands came in at sundown,
all of them Mexicans. Seven of them ate in the cookshack and slept in the bunk- house. The others were family men, and they, after putting up their mounts, went
to their ’dobes to spend the night with
their wives and children. Hatfield ate with the bachelors, then went to the bunkhouse © and turned in. He needed a good night’s sleep, having missed so much rest while making his danger-filled way to the Big Bend country.
He felt safe enough here at the X Bar X, now that Robusto was convinced that he would not be a rival for the Forbes wom- an’s favors. He didn’t trust the man, but he felt certain that Robusto would make no attempt on his life, because of his fear that the woman would be angered.
Lying on his bunk, smoking a final cigarette, the Lone Wolf found himself thinking of Lanya Forbes. A beautiful woman. The most beautiful he had ever met. But she was dangerous. To win her
“way, she would pit man against man and
make use of the stronger. The death of her husband had hardened her, and such hardness was not a good thing in a woman.
TILL, without it, she would be lost. ¥ Without being hard, she could never have founded this ranch, nor have held onto it. Such an outfit here in this wild country must be the envy of many men— men like Carter Styles for example. And no doubt she must forever be on her guard against them.
_ She had plenty of vaqueros to Saaed her range, but a determined man, with | plenty of gunhands in his hire, might be able to handle the X Bar X riders. She was aware of that, and so she had Robusto to guard her personally.
Hatfield hadn’t found the Irish-Mexican
difficult to handle, but it was likely that
Robusto O’Reilly was more than a match for ordinary tough hands. At any rate, he had kept the woman safe so far, and he wanted no help from a man whe might give him competition for Lanya Forbes’s affections. It was only she who felt a need to have another man like Robusto akout
the ranch, -
Pr Ae ys .¢ ote » ms
4 uly
24 - TEXAS RANGERS
But it was possible, Hatfield reflected, that she hadn’t really felt the need of a second bodyguard. It might be that she was bored with Robusto O’Reilly, big and handsome though he was, and had seen. in tall Tom Dolan—in the man she thought to be Dolan—something that aroused the tender feelings that surely lay beneath her hard exterior.
It occurred to Hatfield that it might be pleasant to accept the job she offered, even though it meant clashing with Ro- busto. But it was not for him, not for the Lone Wolf, He dared not let himself be tempted.
On that thought, he crushed out his cigarette and slept... .
After breakfast Hatfield was saddling
Goldie over by the corrals when Robusto O’Reilly came from the ranch house. The man said, “So you didn’t change your mind. during the night, amigo?”
“No, I didn’t, amigo.”
They grinned at each other. Like a couple of unfriendly lobo wolves, Hatfield told himself. Then Robusto gestured to- ward two vaqueros over by the barn.
“Juan and Miguel will take you to an outlaw hide-out,’ he said. “I have told them how to find it. Since they know the country, they will have no trouble guid- “ing you. But once you reach the place,
you will be on your own. Tell the jefe — of the outlaw band that Robusto sent you. |
Maybe that will help.” - “What’s his name, this outlaw eS
“Major Bucky Shayrie.”
To cover his surprise, Hatfield said, “Major? What’s this Shayne—an _ ex- Army officer?” ;
Robusto shrugged. “You will find out from him, I think,” he said. “You will see the sefiora and tell her: that you are leav- ing of your own free will? I would not want her to think that I seared you away from the X Bar X.”
Hatfield chuckled. “I'll tell her you
- didn’t scare me away.” =
_ He finished saddling his golden sorrel,
turned toward the big adobe house, lead- ing Goldie. Robusto fell into step with
him. = ne:
a2
“That’s a fine animal, Dolan.”
“T took it from a Ranger.”
“You would trade it, maybe?” —
“No,” said Hatfield. “I’ve grown kind of
fond of the bronc.”
Robusto turned off to talk to the two men who were to act as guides. Hatfield left Goldie ground-hitched by the patio gate, and found Lanya Forbes at the door- way to her office. He had an idea she was waiting for him.
Her voice was accusing. “You're leav- ing.”
“T'll feel safe only deeper in the Bend.”
“The Rangers won’t come here, I told you. I have reason to hate them, — they know it.”
“T doubt if hatred will eecn them away from here,” Hatfield said. “Don’t count on that. Tn sorry I can’t take the job. ]
reckon you know that.”
She stepped from the doorway, moved close to him. “I think I can hold you here. Dolan,” she said. Her voice was husky, the look in her green eyes inviting. She lay a hand on his arm. “Stay, Dolan. You'll never regret it.”
He felt a quiver of excitement. He imagined that the real Tall Tom Dolan would give in to her, but he was not Dolan. He had a mission to accomplish. He took her hand from his arm. |
“Maybe I'll come back this way.”
Anger came quickly to her. “If you go now, don’t come back,” she said. “Once you leave, youd never be welcome here again!” ee
He’ said, “I’m sorry,” and turned away. He heard her say something, when he
- was halfway across the patio.
He had an idea that she called him an ugly name.
i OBUSTO watched Hatfield and his i guides ride out, his grin stretched Wide on his face and a wicked gleam in his blue eyes. One of ‘the vaqueros led a spare horse under pack, which told Hat-
- field that they would be at least a couple
days on the trail. They headed south across X Bar X range, and after a half-
dozen miles, Hatfield saw the buildings
TRAIL OF THE DESERT WITCH
of another ranch a half-mile or more back from the road.
« “Whose place is that?” he asked. “Car- ia Styles’s?”
“Si,” one of his guides said. Styles lives there.”
“He has a big outfit?”
“No, Sefor Dolan. His is what you call it, a iw Sit ranch.”
“But he’s making rouble for Sefiora Forbes. How come?”
-“He claims more range than is his,” the vaquero said. “He bought his ranch from a man who played him for a tenderfoot— which Senor Styles is. For another thou- sand dollars, this man told him, I will sell you some good grassland I own on the north side of Turbio Creek. Senor Styles paid him the money and was given a quit- claim for the second piece of range.” The ' vaquero chuckled. “The joke is, Senor Dolan, the range north of the Turbio is a part of the X Bar X Ranch.”
Hatfield smiled to show that he appreci- ated the joke. Then he said, “But he still thinks he owns that strip of- range, eh? And wants’ to take it from Sefora Forbes?”
pt. But he has much | to learn about the senora.’
“She is not called — Desert Witch for nothing,” the other vaquero said. “Senor Styles will get nowhere by talking snes to her.” =
“How come she’s called that?” Hatfield asked.
The two Mexicans pechaies glances, both looking blank. Then the one named Juan, said, “It is perhaps because she is possessed of a devil, senor. She is no ordi- nary woman. Only a woman possessed would come alone into this country and start a ranch where sete was nothing be- fore.”
They fell silent then, each of the = lost in his own thoughts. The road turned
“Senor
a cluster of buildings ahead. It was the settlement called Muleshoe, Hatfield learned from his companions who now, aroused from their silence, talked of get- ting some tequila. Both had developed
25 great thirsts, it. seemed.
Hatfield was as anxious to stop at Mule-
shoe as they, but fér another reason. He wanted an opportunity to size up his only link with outside Texas—the storekeeper named Ben Tyson.
CHAPTER IV
Guides to Death
ULESHOE, at a crossroads, consisted
of a dozen adobe buildings. All
were mere huts with the exception of one bearing a crudely lettered sign that read:
Tyson’s Place General Merchandise, Whisky” and Tequila, Remedies It was a large building with a wooden awning along the front and two entrances, one to the store and the other to. the
barroom.
A rickety wagon with a pair of crow-
bait horses in harness stood in front of — the place, and a Mexican couple carrying
purchases and followed by a swarm of barefoot kids came out to the wagon. They were followed by a man—a gringo— who carried still another swarthy young- ster. This child had a freshly bandaged leg. The American man held the boy un- til the Mexican stowed his provisions into the wagon, then gave him to the man who was evidently the father of the brood.
The Mexican said something in Span-
ish,
The American shook his head, Sing
and said, “There is no charge 2S the doc-
toring, Mario. And you tell your brother,
Diego, that if he wants legal advice, he’s
southeast finally, and at mid-day they saw je ene te Ee. Pll look into my law books,
and it’ll cost him nothing at all.” “Gracias, Senor Tyson,” the Mexican
said. “Muchisimas gracias!” - The two X Bar X vaqueros had already
dismounted by the hitch-rack in front of
pies
26 | TEXAS RANGERS
the barroom entrance, but Hatfield still sat his horse and was watching the man he realized was Ben Tyson with a lively interest. Tyson came along the gallery, a slightly built man of about thirty or a little more: A clean-cut man, his rather pale face unmarked by life in the harsh land where he did business. “Hola, amigos!” he called to the va- queros. “How are things at the X Bar X ~ Ranch?”
The vaqueros greeted him with respect, one even removing his sombrero. They told him that things were all right at the X Bar X.
“And how is Sefora Forbes?”
Hatfield noted that Tyson’s lips spoke that name as though it were important
to him, as though he were fond of its
owner. Tyson nodded when one of the X Bar X men told him that the sefiora was well, and there was a flicker in his eyes that was as telltale as his voice. Here was another man who was under thé spell of the Desert Witch. | 7
Tyson glanced at him. “Step down, stranger. Come quench your thirst.”
The vaquero, Juan, said, “This is Sefor Dolan. We take him south.”
“Not Tall Tom Dolan?”
“Maybe I’m not welcome at your bar, friend,”
“T’ve welcomed men at my bar who had worse reputations than yours, Tall Tom.”
Hatfield laughed, and swung from sad- dle. He had seen Ben Tyson wink as he spoke, and the wink told him that he knew him to be not an outlaw but a Ranger.
They went inside, and Tyson served the vaqueros tequila and tapped whisky from a keg for Hatfield and himself.
“You’re a doctor and a lawyer as well as a merchant ahd a saloonman?” Hatfield asked. ‘A sort of jack-of-all-trades?”’
“T’m many things to many men, Dolan.”
“You must be a busy man.”
“A busy man is never a lonely man,” said Tyson. “Or so I’ve heard. Are you figuring on staying around these parts?”
Hatfield shrugged. “My compadres are taking me to some friends of Robusto
O’Reilly’s,” he said. “Juan—Miguel, where is aee place you are taking me?” - The vaqueros gave him blank looks, and Juan said, “We do not know, sefior. We must find it by the lsndraarks that Robusto described. It is somewhere far | south.”
Hatfield gave Tesce a wry smile, then lifted his glass. “Your health, friend,” he said.
Tyson gave him the same sort of smile. “Yours,” he said, and lifted his glass.
It took the vaqueros nearly two hours to quench their thirst, and then, starting out, they took a jug of tequila along as protection against another dry trail. Ben
Tyson watched the three of them ride
away, and he was still in his doorway when Hatfield glanced back once they were well away from Muleshoe... .
HEY were going to murder him! Juan and Miguel had their orders,
from Robusto O’Reilly. With so much te-
quila in them, they began discussing when and where and how to kill him. They talked in Spanish, which they as- sumed he could not understand.
Hatfield kept Miguel, who led the pack- horse, between himself and Juan. And when the trail narrowed, for there was no longer a road, he dropped to the rear. He
intended to keep them at a disadvantage,
without them knowing that he was aware of their plan of murder.
Both men were drunk, which undeii
edly was why they kept talking it over,
in their own tongue. The Ranger gathered that they were a little afraid, too. The te- quila hadn’t made them brave. They were — not killers at heart, Juan and Miguel. It was just that Robusto had given them orders.
Hatfield smiled bleakly. Robusto talked a little like a fool, but maybe that was just because he couldn’t express himself well in Americano. He was no fool, but a decidedly dangerous man. The vaqueros were to kill Tall Tom Dolan, Hatfield heard them saying, but Sefora Forbes was not to know. She was to think he
had joined Major Bucky Shayne’s out-
TRAIL OF THE DESERT WITCH oa
law band. And so she would not be angry with Robusto. :
The pair talked for miles, then became broodingly silent, The tequila was wear- ing off, and they worried. They avoided looking directly at the man they thought was Tall Tom Dolan. They gave him fur- tive glances. It occurred to Hatfield that if he were Dolan, they would be as good
A TALL Texas TALE
~with his back to a boulder, and kept his
gaze on the two while he ate.
After the meal, the two Mexicans brought out their jug of tequila and kept passing it back and forth, They kept the fire going. Hatfield had a smoke, then spread his bedroll beside the boulder. He settled his saddle for a pillow, and took his rifle into his blankets with him. He
TOBACCO SHOOTER
Za Ga } | Spee BILL pushed his hat back, shifted his cud of tobacco and
cleanly rang the spittoon beneath the brass rail at his feet. ““This
a= feller with the rodeo was the best I ever seen for straight shootin’,”
TE xAS
~ he said. “One thing he done was put up a card, a six-spot, and turned
around and walked back twenty paces, then spun on his heel and shot the pips out of that card as fast as he could pull the trigger.”
Elmer Fuddle McWhinney, of the Dallas McWhinneys, took a swig of his beer and looked unimpressed. “Is that all he done to make you
.. call him the best you ever seen?”
Brazos Bill shook his head and looked slantwise at the other. “(He had him a girl helper in red tights—a real looker, though a mite on the skinny side—and she’d put a cigarette in her mouth and puff it a bit to get up a good ash, and this feller would then take careful aim and knock the-ash right off that cigarette slicker’n slobbers.”
“And her standing still all the while?”
“Why, shore she was standin’ still,” replied Brazos a bit bristly.
Elmer Fuddle McWhinney, of the Dallas McWhinneys, snorted. “That’s child’s play compared to the shooting an uncle of m‘ne used to do. We called him Uncle Deadeye. He was a McWhinney, of course. One of his favorite tricks with a cigarette was to have someone toss it in the air for him to shoot at. The cigarette would fall ‘to the ground again and someone was sure to say, ‘Hah, you missed it!’ because there it would lay looking good as ever. ‘Take a good look at that cigarette,’ Uncle Deadeye would tell him. ‘Ain’t much good for smokin’ any more, less’n you like just the pure paper.’ And sure enough, he would’ve shot the tobacco right out of it while it was twisting through the air, the bullet going in one end and out the other without even busting the paper. Had to use a .22 for that trick, of course, cigarettes being thin as they are.” 3 =
“Yeh, of course,” echoed Brazos Bill doubtfully, as he tried to uncross his eyes.
“Any fool would know that.”
as dead men now, for those glances would have warned the outlaw, even if he hadn’t savvied Mexican lingo. And he would certainly have killed them before they got a chance to kill him. 3
The day was finally gone, and they halt- _ed to make camp. Hatfield off-saddled Goldie while Miguel took care of the other horses and Juan gathered brush for a cookfire. Juan did the cooking, and
when the grub was ready, the Lone Wolf
filled and carried his tin plate and cup away from the fire. He hunkered down
did not dare sleep however. He lay there listening to the vaqueros, and finally, as they become drunk again, their talk again was of Robusto’s orders to kill him.
They argued about it. They feared Ro-
busto; the man would be angry if they
returned without having carried out his
orders. But they also feared Senora _ Forbes. She would be angry if they killed the gringo. How would she know? Miguel asked that. Juan had an answer. The senora was a witch, and witches had ways © 7 of learning things. From the wind, maybe. _
28 | _ ‘TEXAS RANGERS
They talked and they drank and like
all their kind, they were superstitious.
They began telling fantastic ‘stories that
were often told by campfires in the brush
eountry—of eerie happenings, of ghosts, and of course of witches. They frightened themselves. Finally they spread their blan- kets close’ to the fire, their orders to do murder forgotten.
Hatfield slept by snatches, but there - was no need for him to be on guard. Juan and Miguel were in a drunken sleep. He heard their loud snoring each time he ~ awoke.
Both vaqueros were sick and worried when Hatfield roused them in the morn- ing, after rebuilding the fire and cooking his own breakfast. They wanted nothing to eat, and they had to force themselves to drink coffee. Just as the Ranger had anticipated.
They were slow in breaking camp, and _ when at last they were in the saddle, they looked as though they wanted to dismount
and lie down again. Hatfield would have
been amused had he not known what they planned for him.
He said, “How much farther is Shayne’s
hide-out?”
Juan said, “A day’s ride, I think.”
“Tell me how to find it, and I’ll go on alone.’’,
He could see that they were tempted, but after exchanging glances, they shook their heads. And Juan said, “Robusto would not like it, senor. We were told to take you the whole way.”
ATFIELD insisted, farther is it?”
“We will reach the place by sundown,”
Juan said. “We follow this trail until we
come to a butte. We turn east beyond the
“But how much
butte, and there is a big arroyo. We ride -
along the arroyo to its far end, then turn _ south again. To the mountains. The hide- out is in a canyon. You will not find it without us, I think.”
“All right,” Hatfield said. going.”
“Let’s get
He kept them ahead of him and, for
most of the morning, they rode in silence
and suffered from their hangovers. When the noon halt was made, they drank more coffee and ate a little food. And recovered somewhat. But as they, felt better physi- cally, they became more worried. They began to cast furtive glances at Hatfield.
He gave them no chance to get behind him.
In the saddle again, they shortly saw the red butte looming ahead. And after perhaps a half-dozen miles, they reached its base. They circled its end, located the arroyo and rode into it. It was a broad gully, and the sandy bottom showed hoof tracks. It was a trail used by many riders, . and Hatfield knew that he no longer needed Juan and Miguel. He was about to call to them, to tell them so, when Miguel suddenly halted, got down, and began to fuss with the spare animal’s pack.
“What’s wrong, hombre?” Hatfield de- manded.
“The pack,” ping.” = -
The pack was not slipping, Hatfield saw. And he sensed that they had made up their minds that now was the time to carry out Robusto’s orders. He glanced at Juan, who had swung his horse about, and Juan’s gun was in his hand.
As the Lone Wolf put Goldie into a quick wheeling, Juan’s slug missed him by a narrow margin. The man swore in a frightened way, and aimed for another shot. But Hatfield had one of his Colts out, and it roared before Juan could fire a second time. There was a wild scream from Juan as the Ranger’s slug tore through his right arm. He reeled in his saddle, and his horse began to buck.
Hatfield swung his gun toward Miguel, for Miguel now was drawing. Again the Lone Wolf’s gun crashed, ang Miguel’s shot, as he took a slug in the arm, went into the ground. 7 | _ Both vaqueros lost their weapons, and Miguel fell to his knees while Juan, bucked from his spooked ‘horse, lay sprawled on the ground. They moaned, more frightened than in pain.
The Lone Wolf’s voice lashed at them.
said Miguel. “It is slip-
TRAIL OF THE ‘DESERT WITCH 29
“Get an your econes” he ordered. “Head back to Muleshoe, and let Ben Tyson patch you up. Then head for the X Bar X
Ranch and tell Robusto I’ll be back to deal
with him some day!”’
They picked themselves up and with
some trouble, due to their wounds, mount- ed their horses. He told them to leave the pack horse, and to ride out fast. They ‘obeyed willingly enough, fearful that he would change his mind and kill them.
He watched them until they were lost to sight around the base of the arroyo, then holstered his gun and caught up the pack-horse’s halter rope. Starting on, he saw that he was not alone. A half-dozen riders had reined in abreast and blocked the gully a hundred yards beyond. They had come around a bend in the arroyo, and had been hidden until now by its banks.
Six hard-visaged men.
After a moment of staring at him, they came on at a walk. They did not draw their guns, but still Jim Hatfield felt un- easiness. He had never seen such a pirati- cal-looking bunch of men.
They reined in again, facing him.
One said, “We were just in time to see your expert display of marksmanship, sir. I compliment you upon it. However, my own rule is to shoot to kill: You are, I as- sume, Tall Tom Dolan.”
A fancy talker, but it was he who gave the group the piratical touch. He had a short red beard and wore a black patch over his left eye, while across his right cheek was a long jagged scar.
“Permit me to introduce myself, sir. I am Major Bucky Shayne.”
“T’ve heard of you,” said Hatfield. “Most =. have. I say that modestly, Dolan.”
“My name is Smith, Major. Just plain Smith.”
HAYNE chuckled. “You don’t need to be coy with us, Tall Tom. We heard
you were on your way, and we're glad to welcome you to the Big Bend, which by _ the way, is something of an outlaw’s para- dise.” He suddenly sobered, and his sin-
gle eye bored at Hatfield. “Who were your partners, and why did they try to kill you, Dolan?”’
Hatfield shrugged. “A couple of x Bar X riders,” he said. “I happened by that place and was offered a job by the lady — who owns ‘it. I didn’t want the job, and her man, Robusto O’Reilly, didn’t want me around the place. So he offered to have his two men guide me to your hide-out. But he’d given them orders to kill me.” He grinned at Shayne. “Because the lady . seemed to take a fancy to me.”
“A charming lady,” Shayne said. “Ro- busto is to be envied.” His eye winked slyly: “But of course Robusto won’t be so fortunate when I get around to taking his place at the X Bar X Ranch—or the
Double Cross Ranch, as some call it. You |
have a good reputation, Dolan. And be- cause of it, I’m glad to have you join my little group.” 3 “Better go easy, Bucky,” one of the others said. “You can’t be sure he’s Tall Tom Dolan. Me, I’ve seen this hombre somewhere. If I could remember where it was—”’ | Hatfield felt quick alarm. He did not know the speaker, a swarthy, dour-faced — man, but it was possible that the man had seen him somewhere, as a Texas Ranger, and would remember that. If memory told him that here was not the outlaw Dolan
- but a lawman, Jim Hatfield’s life wouldn’t
be worth a plugged peso.
But Bucky Shayne said cheerfully, “You're a scary old maid, Dutch. You’ve been everywhere, haven’t you? You could have seen Dolan up in the Hole-in-the- Wall country.” He looked back at Hatfield. “Come along sir. We'll show you a hide- out that’s better than Hole-in-the-Wall!”
Hatfield could: only obey. Even if he wanted’ to do otherwise, he could not — have ridden in any direction than toward the outlaw hide-out. He was carrying out his mission, and in a shorter period of time than he had expected. Major Bucky Shayne, soldier of fortune turned bandit, was an unsuspicious sort.
But the man called Dutch was some- thing else again.
~ 80 | TEXAS RANGERS
Hatfield rode alongside Shayne, and the
others fell in behind them. Dutch rode just behind the Lone Wolf, and his murky gaze clung to the big man posing as Tall Tom Dolan. Hatfield was aware of it, and mentally squirmed.
He knew that Dutch was probing his memory, probing deep into it.
And sooner or later, it would respond. Then there would be hell to pay!
CHAPTER V
~ The Roost
HAYNE’S outlaw roost was several y miles back through a narrow high- walled canyon. Entrance to the canyon was by a narrow cut in some cliffs, and the cut was hidden by rocks and brush. Jim Hatfield knew now why the Rangers had never rounded up Shayne and his bunch. With word reaching Bucky Shayne - that lawmen were in the Bend, he would have his men withdraw into the canyon after, almost certainly, taking the precau- tion of obliterating all tracks outside the entrance. Hoof tracks in the loose ground could be wiped away by using pieces of _ brush for brooms. And riders not familiar with the immediate country would cer- tainly pass the cut in the cliffs without spotting it. Hatfield had heard much about the - more notorious Hole-in-the-Wall that was a hide-out for the outlaws of Wyoming ‘and Montana, and he imagined that this canyon—Major Bucky Shayne called it simply “The Roost”—was no less formi- dable a hiding place.
For the first couple of miles, the canyon floor was dense with hides and brush. Then there was a widened portion with grass for horses, and a small clear-water stream. Here a dorsi or more crude build- ings stood, some mere picket houses with - brush roofs, and others of adobe. The lat- ter were of fair-size. Numerous men, all as tough-looking as Hatfield’s escort,
you re good enough for me.
loafed about this settlement. Too, as was
the case at the Hole-in-the-Wall, there were a few women.
As they reined in before one of {he adobes, Shayne pointed to the canyon wall. It was a sloping wall here, and mid- - Way up was the mouth of a cave. :
“That’s where we hold our celebra- tions,’ Shayne said, with some pride. “We call the cave the Casino. We’ve got a har and gambling lay-outs there. We’ll go up later. The fun doesn’t start until after dark.”
They Sigiicunted sand put their os into a fenced meadow, leaving their sad- dles on the pole fence. Shayne told Hat- field to bring his bedroll into his dobe. The others who had ridden in with them headed for a larger building that looked like a bunkhouse, the man called Dutch giving the Lone Wolf one last gloomy look.
Shayne’s place was a one-room house with a fireplace, a plank table and bench- es, and a single bunk. He nodded toward a corner and told Hatfield to dump his bedroll there. A bottle and a couple of tin cups stood on the table, and Shayne > poured each of them a drink. —
Lifting his cup, he said, ‘“Here’s to our hitting it off, Dolan.” He grinned through his red beard. “We’ll get on if you remem- ber that I’m head man here.”
Hatfield grinned back. “Don’t worry that Pll try to step in your boots, Major.”
Shayne seemed pleased that the man he thought was Tall Tom Dolan used his title. They drank the toast, then Shayne offered Hatfield a cigar. He lighted it for himself when Hatfield said that he would stick to his makings. They sat down be- side the table, the Lone Wolf rolling a cigarette.
Shayne said, “Maybe you re ns why I’ve given you a royal welcome, Tom boy. It’s because I need a good man for a lieutenant. I’ve got nearly fifty men in my band, but the lot of them are fools. Not a one has any brains. But you’ve rid- den with Butch Cassidy, and he’s one of the best. If you were good enough for him, Besides,
Z
TRAIL OF THE DESERT WITCH _ 31
you've proved you’re smart by the way you got away from the Rangers. I’ve got _ big things lined up, and you can help me swing them and keep this bunch in line.”
“What are your plans, Major? Or are they secret?”
“T’ve a raid planned that will make Butch Cassidy and every other outlaw leader green with envy.”
“And you’re letting me in on it?”
“It'll be a test for you, friend.”
“Oh? How do you mean?”
HAYNE said, “If you can show me I can count on you to relieve me of some of the dirty work of handling a bunch of riff raff, you'll be in my good graces. And you'll get a share of the loot. The details of the raid are all worked out, and all that remains is to grease the palm of a certain hombre south of -the Rio Grande. A General Merardo. When I re- ceive word from him, I ante up—and then we'll ride.” “Into Mexico, eh?” “That's it, Tom.” “Risky, isn’t it?” “Not with Merardo giving us a helping hand,” Shayne said. “He’ll keep the Fed-
99
eral soldiers and the Rurales busy. We—” |
He paused, as a Mexican woman en- tered the dobe. She was a good-looking woman despite her plumpness. Shayne
spoke to her in Spanish, telling her to prepare supper for three instead of two
tonight. He patted her as she passed. him on her way to the fireplace. She laughed throatily, and Shayne chuckled.
“Conchita may not be the looker that
the Forbes woman is,” he said, “but I’d
bet plenty she’s a better cook. I hope you've got an appetite, bucko.”
“T have that,” Hatfield said. “And I'll get cleaned up before supper.” He went out to where he’d left his saddle on the meadow fence.
He had the information Captain Mc- Dowell needed—the location of the hide- out, the number of Shayne’s followers, and knew that a raid into Mexico was being planned. If it were dark, he could ride out and make his way back to Ben Ty-
ee
son’s store and give the storekeeper of many talents the information, to be re- layed to McDowell. But it was now only sundown, and he dared not attempt to run out on the hospitable Major Bucky Shayne. He would be missed before he got out of the canyon. He had to face grim reality that it would be more. diffi- cult to leave the Roost than it had been to get into it.
He had a razor, soap, a comb, and a spare shirt in his satidicbnes. He carried them to a spot where the creek was fringed by brush, stripped and took a quick bath. Then he donned levis and boots, worked a lather onto his bristly face and scraped it clean with his razor. Shaved, he combed his hair. He was reach- ing for his clean shirt when a voice said;
“So you, Handsome, are Tall Tom Do-
lan.”
A woman’s voice.
Hatfield whirled and saw her ae up on a slab of rock no more than fifty feet upstream. He must have looked startled, for she laughed. She was young—in her twenties, Hatfield guessed. She had henna- tinted hair, and her face was powdered and painted like a dancehall girl’s. She wore a plain gingham dress of faded green. But on her it wasn’t plain. It was cut low at the neck, and the skirt was so short that a great deal of bare leg was revealed. The bodice was form-fitting; in fact, it was so snug that her generous curves were sharply outlined. Hatfield saw so much as he wondered with a part of mind how long she had been there on the rock.
“Are you, Handsome?” she said. “Are you Tall Tom Dolan?”
“That’s right. I’m Dolan.”
“T hear you’re quite a man. You look 3
like quite a man, too.” “Thanks.”
“Por nada—as the Mexicans say. My >
name's Rita.” She slowly lifted her arms, pushed the heavy waves of hennaed hair up from the nape of her neck, then arched
‘her back, boldly displaying herself. Her movements were sensuous. Her eyes were -
half-closed now, watching Hatfield. “You
32
like Rita, Handsome?” He put on his shirt. “Nice, ” he said. “Sure, nice. But do you like?” “T Tike.” “We'll be friends, eh, Handsome?”
E BUCKLED-on his gins. put on his stetson, and gathered up his toilet articles.
“Call me Tom,” he told her. “Then we won't be enemies.’
“All right, Tom. Come here.”
Hatfield hesitated. This was an outcast woman, and no doubt she belonged to one of the outlaws. She was trouble. She was trouble no matter how he handled _ her. If he played up to her, somebody was - going to be jealous. If he scorned her, she would almost certainly fly into a fury and make things difficult for him.
She said, “Come here and show Rita you like er”
Hatfield was saved from having to make a decision as to what to do about the girl by the sudden appearance of the dour- faced outlaw, Dutch. The man came through the bushes and halted with his thumbs hooked in his gun-belt. He divid- ed a sour glance between Hatfield and Rita. |
~“You work fast, Dolan, is she the fast worker?”’
Here was trouble again. The Lone Wolf sensed that Dutch had followed him to
” he said. “Or
TEXAS RAN GERS
Hatfield said, “Forget it. We were just talking. No feces | is done.”
_ He walked away from the pair of ‘her. and knew that Dutch Brucker was staring after him. |
After supper with Bucky Shayne and the woman named Conchita, Hatfield rolled and lighted a cigarette and went te the doorway of the house. Darkness lay thickly black in the canyon, and the build- ings of the outlaw settlement had lamp- lighted windows like the houses of a law- abiding community. Up the sloping can- yon wall, the mouth of the cave was brightly lighted. Men were climbing the slope. Riders came in, both from. the north and the south ends of the canyon. They dismounted and headed for the cave, like cowhands coming into a town for an evening at a saloon.
The night was still young. Hatfield won- dered if he could make his way from the canyon under cover of darkness, and his departure not be discovered until morn- ing. Then in the shadows of a dobe oppo- site Shayne’s house a match flared. The flame was lifted to a cigarette, and the cigarette was between the humorless lips
of Dutch Brucker.
the creek in the hope that another look -
would prod his laggard memory. Dutch wanted badly to remember where it had been that he had befofe seen the man who was now calling himself Tall Tom Dolan.
Hatfield said, “She’s your woman?”’
“If she was, I’d use a whip on her,” Dutch said. “She’s Sailor Dunn’s woman.”
“Mind your own business, Dutch Bruck-
er!” the girl cried. She was no longer try- —
ing to look her best, and anger made her ugly. “I’m my own woman, and I'll do as JT like—with whoever I like!”’
“Yeah. Till Sailor gets back.”
‘T’ll take care of Sailor Dunn!”
“He'll skin you alive if he catches you playing up to this cute,
A quiver knifed through the Lone Wolf. Dutch was watching him, and wanted him to know it. Dutch was sure he was not Tall Tom Dolan. Somehow the man had
sensed it. There would be no leaving the ©
canyon tonight. This gloomy, suspicious outlaw would make sure that he didn’t leave the Roost.
‘Shayne came to the door and put an-
arm about Hatfield’s shoulders. “Now that Conchita’s fed us, let’s go up on
Casino,” he said. “You haven’t lived un-_ til you’ve seen what we've got up there; y
bucko!” —
They set out together, like a couple of close friends. ;
And a man followed them. Dutch Brucker.
The entrance was about ten feet wide and eight high, and the cavern itself was perhaps sixty feet across and eighty deep. It had the musty smell of all caves, but there was also the odor of liquor fumes
° & —
St
‘TRAIL OF THE DESERT WITCH ae zily. Her bare brown legs sic She =
and tobacco oe 2 the perfume of women and ‘the sweaty smell . of ces men.
The place was brightly lighted ee a dozen or more lamps.
Along one side was a plank bar with two men working behind it—a fat Mexi- ean and a ruddy-faced American with pomaded hair..In the center of the cave and to the other side were numerous crude plank tables and benches. At the rear were several other tables covered with green baize, and they, along with a roulette wheel obtained from where only Major Bucky Shayne knew, were the gambling lay-outs. __
BOUT forty men were in the place, and mingling with them were near-
ly a dozen women. Most of the men were Americans, and the minority Mexicans. Some of the women were mere girls, oth-
ers middle-aged but trying to hide their
years with gaudy dresses and paint and powder. Several were dusky seforitas, and the others fair-skinned gringas. Their voices were shrill, and their laughter too loud.
The bar was lined with men, and most of the tables were occupied. A- poker game was under way at one green-covered ta- ble, and at another a Mexican was run- ning a monte bank. Two men were rolling dice at a third table. A man who looked like an erstwhile professional gambler was croupier at the roulette lay-out, and it was mostly women who responded to his flat-voiced, “Place your bets!”
A man with a fiddle and another with a banjo added music to the rowdy din in the place, and shortly after Hatfield and Shayne were seated at a table and served with a bottle and glasses by one of the bartenders, a girl in the short red skirt and low-cut white blouse affected by peon women began to dance in time with the music and a pair of castanets in her
hands. It was an abandoned dance, and caught
the attention of the crowd. The castanets.
clicked faster, and the girl’s body picked up the tempo until she was swirling diz-
leaped gracefully onto. a bench, then atop a table.
Men yelled, sivooed their hands. The other women shrieked, squealed. |
Above the uproar, Bucky Shayne asked, ‘How do you like it here, bucko?”
Hatfield merely smiled.
From the corner of his eye, he saw Dutch Brucker watching him from the end of the bar. The dancer finally became still, wilting to a limp sitting position on the table. Men yelled for more, and
‘pitched money to her. Gold and silver
coins, bills. A shower of money. Shayne’s woman, Conchita, came and
sat down beside the one-eyed bandit chief.
Then from over by the roulette wheel, Rita came pushing through the throng of men gathered about the dancer on the table.
The dancer borrowed a man’s hat, ga-
thered up the money, and dropped it into ~ the stetson. Phen, slowly, sensuously, she
rose on the table and began to click her castanets.
Her body began to writhe while her
slippered feet remained still.
Rita slipped around behind Hatfield, lay her hands on his shoulders.
“T’ve been waiting for you Handsome,” she said. “And now*f’ve got you.’
“Sit down, ” he said, “and have a drink.”
“Sure.”
She sat down beside him on the bench, close. She reached for his glass, empiied it.
“Bourbon,” she said. bourbon. That’s what friends of Bucky Shane rate. The rest of us have to dns rotgut.”’
Bee grinfied at She “You get to be Tall Tom’s friend, and you’ll be drinking bourbon all the ‘time,” he said. “But there’s just one hitch. Sailor Dunn is due back tonight.” He chuckled. Sailor is here now.”
Rita uttered a little screech of alarm.
Hatfield looked around at the man just entering the cave. And Sailor Dunn’s gaze
already was on him and Rita, the look in
his eyes one of jealous rage.
“New Giians
“In fact,
a
34 3 : TEXAS RANGERS
CHAPTER VI
Woman Scorned
UNN was a barrel-bodied man. He
wore a buckskin jacket, open from the throat to reveal a large tattoo of a sailing ship on his muscle-corded chest. Perhaps he had once been to sea, but Jim Hatfield suspected that the tattoo had earned him his nickname. Rita’s hand gripped Hatfield’s arm. “Don’t take anything off him!” she said. “Show him who’s the better man, Hand- some!”
Bucky Shayne’s eyes gleamed. “Friend, you're in for a hard time of it,” he said. “Sailor is a brawler from away back.”
Hatfield said nothing. It was a time when words were meaningless. He could not say he had no designs gn the girl. That would merely get him called a liar. He would have to fight. Fight over a woman he didn’t want. He smiled wryly.
Sailor Dunn came to the table, and the great strength of him could be seen in his heavy, sloping shoulders. He said nothing at all, but grabbed Rita by the arm and dragged her off the bench. She screamed. Dunn didn’t hit hér. He simply whipped her away from the bench with his one- handed grip on her arm, and she went hurtling across the cave to fall in a heap by the bar. ee
Grabbing the bench then, he tried to topple it and Hatfield. But the Lone Wolf moved swiftly, coming to his feet. Dunn flung the empty bench aside, and it crashed into a table with a great splin- — tering of wood.
“Matey,’ Dunn said, “you sure picked the wrong wench.”
Without more ado, he rushed.
He was fast for so heavy a man, and though his blows were clumsy, the power of them was terrific and the Lone Wolf, slugged alongside the face was knocked to his knees. A boot slammed into his chest the next instant, and he went sprawl-
§
ing on the rocky floor of the cave. Sean 2 let out a yelp of glee, and moved in to stomp him. :
Though dazed, the —— rolled away . and came catlike to his feet. Dunn rushed him again, too eager now, and Hatfield feinted with his right fist, then crossed with his left. The blow caught Sailor Dunn between the eyes, jolting him so that he stopped dead in his tracks.
The attention of the rowdy crowd no longer was on the contortions of the danc- ing girl on the table. Every eye was on the two big men brawling over a woman. And already men were betting, the odds on Sailor Dunn. There were shouts of en- couragement for Dunn.
He was wary now, having been hit and hit hard. He sidestepped behind a table, then gave it a sudden, violent shove to- ward the Lone Wolf. Hatfield dodged: it, braced himself for the man’s rush. Dunn came at him, but pulled up short \and aimed a kick at Hatfield’s groin. The Lone Wolf fell away from the kick, but grabbed Dunn’s up-swung foot. And jerked.
Dunn went down on head and shoul- ders, struck heavily on the rock floor, and his face lost its ruddy color. He lay for a long moment, gasping. Then with a roared oath, he rolled over and heaved erect. He staggered to the table where Bucky Shane still sat, and grabbed up the bourbon bottle. He broke the bottle against the edge of the table, then lunged at Hatfield in an attempt to use the jagged glass as a weapon, aiming the broken bot- tle at the Ranger’s face.
Hatfield ducked aside. Then, with Dunn reeling off-balance due to missing his blow, he battered the man hard about the head. Dunn dropped the bottle, howled, flung his arms up to shield his face. Hat- field aimed his next*punch, one with all his weight behind it, to the heart. He felt the impact all to way to the soles of his feet, and Sailor Dunn, going all loose, oallenuad to his knees.
“Enough, friend?” Hatfield asked harsh- ly. 3 “Hell, no!”
But Dunn was slow in rising. and now
¥
TRAIL OF THE DESERT WITCH ee 27
-the crowd, disappointed in him, yelled for Hatfield to finish him. 7
“Boot him, Dolan! Cripple him!”
They were a brutal lot, these outlaws. And a foolish lot. They admired only a winner, feeling no compassion at all for a beaten man. Hatfield himself wanted it over with. He didn’t want to batter the man more.
UT Dunn came to his feet, game. as 2 2 man could be, muttering, “I’ve nev- er been whipped. I won’t be now!” He
“Henry! Bring the camera! [ve found the cutest desert rat!”
ed Mio ne Rien tem
came at Hatfield, wobbly on his legs,
bleeding from the nose, his great chest
- heaving. He took a blow to the jaw, shook his head, growled in his throat; but kept coming, trying’ to get his thick arms about Hatfield’s middle.
The Ranger eluded him: Infuriated, Dunn bored in and struck wild, clubbing —
blows. Hatfield was struck once, twice, a third time. He was driven back until he came up against the bar. Dunn tried to trap him there, again attempted to grapple with him. But Hatfield ducked low, slipped ‘away from the man’s awful embrace.
- Dunn swore again and came after him.
But he left himself wide open, and now __ the Ranger, heartily sick of it, stood his
ground and battered the fellow unmerci- fully. To end it, he had to punish Sailor Dunn. The man was wobbly again. Hat- field easily parried his slow punches, and at last floored him again with a blow to the heart and another to the chin as the men’s knees buckled. 7
This time Dunn, though not out, was unable to rise. He sat slumped against the bar, his head lolling.
Men cro:-ded around Hatfield, slapping him on the back. |
He looked for Rita, and told her, “Come here.” When she came to him, her eyes shining with excitement, he said, “He’s your man. Take care of him.”’
“Why, you—”’ ; ;
“Don’t be a little fool,” Hatfield said. “I didn’t try to take you away from him, and I’m not taking you now. He’s got a claim on you and—” 3
Buckv Shayne appeared beside him, and said, “To the victors belong the spoils, friend. Pick up your winnings.”
The cave was silent now, and every- body was staring at Hatfield as though they didn’t know what to make of him. But Sailor Dunn, picking himself up and
holding to the bar for support, grinned ‘broadly. |
“Now. here’s a real shipmate,” he said, his voice shaky and yet hearty. “Matey, I always figured I’d hate the guts of the man who finally licked,me. But you’re a man after my own heart!”
He thrust cut his hand, and Hatfield
smiling thinly, gripped it.
He’d made a friend, it seemed. But Rita |
was regarding him with bitter eyes, and Dutch Brucker was still staring at him moodily. Bucky Shayne, his arm about
Conchita’s waist, shook his head disap-
provingly. :
“There’s a soft streak in you, friend,” he said. “And that’s no good.”
He seemed disappointed in Tall Tom Dolan.
With Conchita an occupant of Shayne’s adobe house, Hatfield had an excuse to
move his bedroll outside. He suggested it
Sed ght 78 rags
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36 . PEXAS RANGERS ©
when they left the cave, some time later. By that time Bucky Shayne was a little drunk, and he leaned heavily upon’ Con- chita as they descended the slope.
“Have it your way,” he said to Hatfield. “But you won’t be crowding us.”
Once they reached the house, Hatfield got his bedroll and said goodnight. Shayne merely grunted, either because he was displeased with the man he had believed to be Tall Tom Dolan or because he was already too occupied with his woman.
Hatfield bedded down near the creek, and lay in his blankets pondering his chances of getting Goldie from the meadow and riding out. Shortly he heard someone prowling nearby in the darkness and guessed it was Dutch Brucker. And again he knew that tonight was not the time for him to leave the Roost. He would have to wait until Brucker got “tired of watching him. :
For Bucky Shayne and his_ outlaw ‘bunch, life at the Roost was one long picnic. There was no work to do, though many of the men at times rode out some- where on. secret errands. There was plenty of food, plenty of whisky, and enough women for companionship. These men wanted nothing more, except, of course, the excitement of an occasional “Sob.” There was much money in the
camp, loot from nefarious activities, and
it kept circulating through gambling. For _ Jim Hatfield, existence.
He found no opportunity to leave, for Brucker still watched him and Shayne demanded his company. Shayne was a great talker, and over and over he related his adventures as a soldier of fortune in a half-dozen Latin-American countries. The man was restless much of the time, for he expected to hear from General Merardo and no message came. Rita went about with Sailor Dunn, and when she saw Hatfield her eyes flashed with hatred. = Dunn, though, was friendly.
N THE third day Hatfield had bes
loafing about the hide-out a message
‘came from General Merardo. Three’riders
it was a boring sort of —
came from Mexico. 'Swarthy men, each
with a bandido mustache. They wore big _ sombreros and had gaily colored serapes over their shoulders and bandoliers of cartridges across their chests.
They met with Major Bucky Skagte in his house. |
The meeting lasted for more than an hour, and when it was over the three Mexicans rode away while Shayne shouted from his doorway to gather his men. When they were assembled, Shayne’ s Ted- bearded face wore a grin.
“It won’t be long now, friends,” he told them. “I’ve had word = General Mer- ardo that he'll soon be ready to start a
campaign in Coahuila. He’s going to take
over the government and make himself governor. That will keep the Federal troops: and the Rurales busy—and leave us a free hand in Chihuahua. And we'll gather mucho loot!”
There were cheers from the outlaws.
Shayne continued, “But first we’ve got a job of work. We’ve got to ante up to Merardo. He needs rifles, ammunition, horseshoes, provisions. The stuff is wait- ing at the X Bar X Ranch, and we'll have to get it and bring it here by pack-mule. Now I-know you buckoes aren’t anxious to work, so—”
There was loud laughter.
“So I’m asking for volunteers,” said.
Eager as they were to go raiding into Mexico, the outlaws weren’t anxious to work as packers. There was a lot of ban- tering as they argued among themselves as to who should volunteer. -
Hatfield said, “Count me in, Major,” and the*gloomy Dutch Brucker echoed, “Me, too.” Then Sailor Dunn yelled, “If > Tall Tom’s not afraid of work, I’m not.
Shayne
either. I’m with you, Bucky!”
That touched it off, and shortly Shayne had a dozen men to accompany him. He ordered them to get their horses, saying
they would start out at once.
Excitement gripped Hatfield as he went to the meadow for Goldie. The trail to the
-X& Bar X Ranch led past Ben Tyson’s
store at Muleshoe, and he might be’ able
TRAIL OF THE DESERT WITCH 37 |
to give a message to the man. The others had to go into the meadow with lariats to. catch their mounts, but Hatfield
whistled for the well-trained Goldie and
the golden sorrel came prancing up to the gate; ~ Hatfield led the big horse away from the gate to saddle it, and then, keeping Goldie between him and the other men, he took a piece of paper and a stubby - pencil from his pocket. Using. his saddle to write upon, he quickly scrawled the information he wanted Ben Tyson to relay to Captain McDowell. He probably wouldn’t get a chance to talk alone with Tyson, but he might be able to slip a note to him. He folded the paper and pocketed it He thought he was unob- served until he turned and saw Rita watching him.
“What are you up to, Dolan?”
“Nothing. Why?”
“Writing something. I saw you.”
“Tt wasn’t anything.”
“Yeah?” She came and stood before him. “Let me see that paper.”
Hatfield forced a chuckle. “You're still sore at me,” he said, hoping that by chang- ing the subject he could get her mind off what she had seen. But he saw sus- picion lingering in his eyes, and knew she wouldn’t forget that he’d been doing something odd for an outlaw. Rita was still trouble.
“Show me it was nothing,” “Or I'll start yelling.”
He was dealing with a woman of no morals, and suddenly he knew that he must treat her as such, even though it was contrary to his nature. She had him
she said.
in a tight. If she called to the men-and |
they forcibly took the note and read it, his life would be forfeit. Somehow he had to get around this woman he had scorned.
He laughed again, reached out, caught
her by the arms. “Sure, I made a mis- take when I let Sailor keep you,” he told her. “I know that now.” He felt
her quiver. Her mouth remained sullen,
but her eyes softened. He went on, “It'll be different when I get back. You and I—”
“Don’t lie to me, Dolan!”
“Well, if you’ve changed your itil
about me, all right.”
HE said fiercely, “I didn’t say that.
I’m fool enough to still want you. I can’t get. you out of my mind.” She gazed steadily into his eyes. “I’ve a notion that I’ve got the whiphand now, my friend. Either you keep your promise when you get back or I'll tell Bucky Shayne what I saw you doing.” She lifted her hands, took his face between them then, standing on tiptoe, she pressed her mouth to his in a long, hard kiss. ‘““Now!” she told him. “That’s how it’s going to be. Ill crack the whip and you'll jump!”
“That won’t be hard to do.”
“But I sure don’t know why I ‘want you after you turned me down.”
“T told you I was sorry, Rita,” he said.
She stepped back, saying, “Yes, you told me. You said it was a mistake. You'll be going by way of Tyson’s Place. Bring me a present from there. You hear?”
He nodded. “Something nice,” he said, and drew a relieved breath when Bucky Shayne called to him.
There were thirteen of them, and some one of them—one of the more super- stitious—commented on it. “It’s unlucky,” the man said uneasily. ‘Thirteen riders. I don’t like it.”
Bucky Shayne laughed. He and Hat- field were riding together, with Dutch
Brucker riding just behind them and the ©
others following by pairs. Shayne was in a rare good humor, now that he was taking the first step toward carrying out his plan to raid down in Mexico.
“A man makes his own luck,” Shayne said.
Jim Hatfield ‘felt a sudden Ts
The prospect of loot was only a part of.
the man’s eagerness. Shayne was trfly
an adventurer, a soldier of fortune. He
wanted to ride at the head of an armed band; he wanted to pillage and kill and
worse, and no doubt he would be disap-
pointed if the raid were carriéd out with- out bloodshed. Major Bucky Shayne was
a scoundrel, and Hatfield knew that the
2
ao
38 : TEXAS RANGERS :
outlaw leader must be destroyed...as though he were a mad dog.
The note must get into Ben Tvson’s
hands, and the sooner the better. If Cap-
tain McDowell received the information
in time and got Rangers to the Roost be- fore Shayne and his band -headed for south of the Rio Grande, it would mean the saving of the lives of many Mexican villagers and rancheros. If there w2s some hitch in McDowell’s plans and the raid wasn’t carried out it might mean, too, that the Rurales would carry out cic threat to cross into the Big Bend and have a try at wiping out the Shayne crowd.
Hatfield had no doubts okoas the Ru- rales trying such a bold scheme. Nor did he question their ability to find the out-
law hide-out, since he knew how Rurales
operated. They would simply enter the Bend and pick up whatever men they encountered until they found one who could lead them to the Roost. And the very men who would refuse to talk to the Texas Rangers would talk plenty to the Rurales—and speak the truth. They had ways of loosening togues. So to save lives and to forestall the Rurales, Hat-
field needed to get his note into Ben Ty- ‘son’s hands. As soon as possible!
It was nearly sundown when the band reached Muleshoe. Tyson’s Place was like an oasis for them, and once they sighted the grubby little settlement, they lifted their mounts to a hard run. They dropped from their saddles and crowded through the saloon doorway with a lot of rough horseplay, except for Bucky Shayne who held his pace to Hatfield’s.
“See what I mean?” he said. “A bunch of ignoramuses. They go loco over the chance at a few drinks. They need to learn discipline, and you and I will teach it to them when we cross the Rio Grande!”
Hatfield noticed as he dismounted that two horses in the X Bar X iron stood at the hitch-rack in front of the store en- trance. One was a dun, and the other, a fine sorrel, was rigged with a side-saddle. Knowing that the sorrel had been ridden there by Lanya Forbes, he felt a sudden
ee TR I = Sete Ne Es saa’ Ss = Sag See ee ae . IP ir ae ee ae S= x
excitement. In spite of himself. he: was as much under the woman‘s spell as se many other men.
A Mexican was on duty Cokie the bar, and he’d served several customers before the arrival of the outlaws. One of these was Robusto O’Reilly. Hatfield glanced through the wide doorway connecting the barroom and store. Lanya Forbes was at the counter and being waited on by Ben Tyson. The woman was wearing a dark brown riding habit such as was fashion- able in the East.
HAYNE spoke to Robusto in low
tones, no doubt telling him that they were on their way to the X Bar X Ranch to get the stored supplies. Robusto nodded, finished his drink, then turned | toward the doorway to the adjoining room.
But Shayne said, “Hold on, friend. One of my boys has a crow to pick with you.”
Robusto faced about, a wary look in his blue eyes. His handsome face stiffened at sight of Jim Hatfield. The wary look was replaced by one of guilt.
Shayne’s single eye gleamed. “Yeah— Dolan,” he said. “You gave him a couple of guides to take him to the Roost, but you gave them orders to kill him along the way.” He glanced at Hatfield. “What are you going to do about it, bucko?”
' Hatfield had taken out makings. He spilled tobacco into a paper. He said, “That’s between Robusto and me. A pri- vate affair. Ill take care of him in my
own good time.” | 4
“There’s no better time than now,’ Shayne said. “You’re fast with a gun, ee this Mexican Irishman: is supposed to be fast with his. My money’s on you, Tall Tom. [ll tell you what, friends. Ill count to three, then the pair of you grab for your shooting-irons. And may the best man win.’
Hatfield rolled and lighted his cea. then said, “Major, do your own killings. I don’ t bnow why you want Robusto dead, but—
Shayne cut in, “Maybe it’s hetanee ze want to take his place with the widow.”
TRAIL OF THE DESERT WITCH » 39
Robusto’s face was still stiff, and now glistened with sweat.
Hatfield dragged hard on his cigarette. “We'll settle it later, eh, Robusto? When we're alone. You agreeable?”
Robusto managed a wavering grin. “Si —Later.”
He turned and went into the store.
Shayne laughed, then faced the bar and demanded a bottle of the bartender. He drank the whisky directly from it, and it was a long drink. He set down the bottle, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then said, “Now I feel like
having a little sport with the Desert
Witch.”
Hatfield followed him into the merchan- dise-cluttered room. Lanya was paying Tyson for her purchases, and they were
in a flour-sack that Robusto lifted from
the counter. Shayne went straight to the woman and put his arm about her waist. Lanya whirled, slapped him hard across his scarred cheek. It was no playful slap, but a real blow that was loud in the room and rocked Shayne’s head.
“I warn you, Shayne,” she said icily, “don’t ever touch me again!”’
The man’s face was ugly. “What’ll you do? Have Robusto gun me down?”
“Just that.”
Shayne forced a laugh. “Go ahead, Ro- busto,” he said. “Gun me down, for I’m sure going to touch your woman again.”
There was a trapped look in Robusto’s eyes, for now two of Shayne’s men— Dutch Brucker and Sailor Dunn—stood in the doorway with their hands on their guns. Jim Hatfield saw the pattern. Shayne did want the woman, and he thought that he might have her if Robusto could be done away with, and he wanted the man killed. :
, But if Robusto was frozen by fear, Ben Tyson was not. He pulled a shotgun from beneath the counter and leveled it at Shayne.
“Don’t,” Shayne!”
Shayne stared at him. “Well, I'll be ®*damned!” he exclaimed. “Here’s another poor fool with an eye on the widow! A
he said. “Don’t touch her,
pipsqueak like you, Tyson!” He was silent
a moment, eying the merchant’s shotgun
and the determined look in the man’s eyes. Then he drawled, “Dutch, can you plug him before he fills me with buckshot?” “T’ve got him beaded,” Brucker said. “My gun’s cocked.” Hatfield noticed two dhitigs Shayne was
edging toward the woman, intending to
grab her as a shield, and Tyson, not as easily cowed as Robusto, was aware of what Shayne was up to and would shoot him down in spite of Dutch Brucker’s cocked gun. Tyson was as close to death as a man could be, and dead he would be of no use to the Rangers. Because of the woman, sence saw his mission jeo- pardized.
He said, play!”
He stopped forward, pulled Lanya away from Shayne.
The outlaw chief scowled at him. “What's the idea, Dolan?” he demanded. “Have you got ideas about her, too?”
“That’s enough of this fool
“T don’t likesto see men killed because.
of her,’ Hatfield said harshly.
among them.”
“You
HAT wasn’t wholly the truth. He cared only about saving Ben Tyson: Shayne’s death would be another matter. It would serve the best interests of law
and order. But Hatfield had to stay in
the man’s good graces, at least for a while longer.
“Tyson’s not fooling, Major,” he warned. “He'll kill you, sure.”
Shayne thought it over, then muttered, “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
He stalked from the store, back to the
- barroom.
Lanya drew away from Hatfield’s grip. She was pale, and breathing hard. She looked at Ben Tyson who, now that the danger was passed, was badly shaken.
“It was a foolish thing to do, Ben,” she said. me.” She glanced at Hatfield, and said, less warmly, “I’m grateful to you too, Dolan. It’s odd that you and Ben had the
courage to take my part, when the man
“But I appreciate your defending
ne ee ere Snow eS am
0 : | TEXAS RANGERS
I pay to guard me lost his nerve.” She turned away.
Robusto flushed darkly, then followed her from the store in silence.
Dutch Brucker was alone in the door- way now, his dark gaze on Hatfield, Tyson put away his shotgun, then deposited in the till the money he’d received from Lanya. It was now or. never, the Lone Wolf decided. He moved toward the coun- ter, saying, “Give me a sack of makings, friend.” Then, as Tyson went-to the case where he kept his tobacco, Hatfield turned his back toward Dutch Brucker and reached in his pocket for some money.
He brought out the note with a handful of coins and, hoping that Brucker wouldn’t notice, lay the folded paper and a half-dollar on the counter. Showing nothing at all, Tyson picked up the note and the coin. He got Hatfield’s change from the till, at the same time furtively letting the note drop to the floor behind the counter, to be recovered later.
Hatfield turned with his tobacco sack and papers, and realized that Brucker had noticed nothing out of the way. The out- law turned back into the barroom behind the Ranger.
Shayne was at the bar, drinking ee his bottle again. The other outlaws were lined up, keeping the bartender busy. Hatfield felt uneasy as he joined Shayne, thinking that the man would make an issue of what had happened in the other room. But Shayne seemed to have for- gotten it already.
“We'll let the boys have another round, Tom,” he said, “then. we'll get some grub . and clear out of here.” :
Later, buying some provisions, he seemed to hold no grudge against Ben Tyson, although he did ridicule the mer- chant for, as he said, “Playing the hero for the Forbes ~woman.” Tyson was wise enough to take the ribbing with a smile. They got the men out of the place fin- ally, and bivouacked by the nearby creek
to eat. After the cold meal, they mounted: and’ rode on, with Shayne setting.a fast —
pace. There was no loafing along the trail as the two vaqueros had done when tak-
ing Hatfield south. Wher on the move, Bucky Shayne was a man in a hurry. They did not overtake Lanya Forbes and Robusto O’Reilly on the way, so Hat- field knew that they, too, were traveling fast. He pondered the problem of the woman as he rode with the outlaws, won- © dering if he was supposed to arrest her as an accomplice of Shayne’s. She was
certainly involved with the outlaw crowd,
even if only in an indirect way. She ob- tained the supplies for them, the supplies that went to the Mexican bandit, Merardo, as payment for the privilege of raiding in Mexico which Merardo had granted Shayne. Yes, she was involved and no doubt she would eventually be taken into custody. And it might fall to Jim Hat- field’s lot to place her under arrest. He would not relish the duty. |
Darkness came, and the band continued to ride steadily toward the X Bar X Ranch. But then, close to midnight, Shayne swung off the road toward Carter Styles’ ranch, telling Hatfield he had busi- ness there.
Once they arrived at Styles’s head- quarters, Shayne said, “Get some sleep, boys. We won’t move on until morning.”
He told Dutch Brucker to take care of his horse, and crossed to the ranch house where Styles was waiting in the doorway. The two of them went —
closed the door. =
ATFIELD was puzzled, wondering
what business the bandit could have with a townsman turned back-country rancher. He _ off-saddled Goldie, then spread his bedroll. He rolled and lighted a cigarette, lay there smoking while the others bedded down. Sailor Dunn spread his blankets close to where Hatfield lay. Dunn had been friendly toward him ever” since Hatfield had refused to take up with Rita. Now Hatfield decided to trade on that friendliness.
He said, “Sailor, what’s this Carter
- Styles?” He kept his voice low.
“The brains behind this outfit,” Dunn _ said. “He gets a cut out of every job — we pull. ‘The loot is always divided-im
TRAIL OF THE DESERT WITCH
halfhalf for Shayne and Styles and half for the rest of us.’
“T don’t get it. Why does Shayne need Style’s brains?” “Styles sets up the jobs,’ Dunn said. “He made the first deal with Merardo, too. And he contracts for the supplies Shayne delivers to that bandido. To keep himself in the clear, he has the stuff freighted to the X BAR X Ranch. Robusto takes them over there. If_the law should find ‘out that guns are being run across the Rio Grande, Styles will be in the clear, be- cause of the way he works it. He’s smart all right. over in New Mexico and—”
“How does the Forbes woman fit into
ee a
“Styles bes a hold on her.” “What kind of a hold, Sailor?”
“Well, Styles used to be a tinhorn gam- bler back in San Antone and elsewhere,” Dunn said. “And her husband was a big gambler—and a big loser. Styles held a lot of Sam Forbes’s IOUs when the Ran- gers killed him. *He’s making the widow buy ‘em back by letting the supplies be delivered to her ranch.”
Hatfield merely grunted in reply to that, then lay thoughtful again. So’Lanya was involved in this ugly business only
because she believed she should pay off.
her dead husband’s gambling debts. But still she was guilty of aiding and abetting the outlaws, and the Lone Wolf couldn’t justify her actions. As for Carter Styles, he also would have to be caught up when the Ranger net closed on the Shayne crowd.
CHAPTER VII
. Dutch Remembers Too Much
UCKY SHAYNE completed his business with Carter Styles during the night, for he roused his men in the gray dawn. They crawled grumblingly from their blankets to saddle their horses.
He once had us raid a bank ©
41 They rode out without presi fact: Shayne telling them that they would let the Widow Forbes feed them. They reached X Bar X headquarters as the sun rose over the mountains to the east,’ racketing
into the ranchyard and, dismounting, headed for the cook shack.
“Hatfield noticed that the X Bar X va-
_queros were in no hurry to ride out on the
range this morning, and*it seemed to him that they eyed the outlaws with grave misgivings. But when the Ranger came from the cook shack after breakfast, only old Hernandez Gonzales and three others remained. The four ranch hands kept aloof from Shayne and his men, remain- ing over by the corrals...
Robusto O’Reilly appeared at the patio gate, a sullen look on his darkly hand- some face. He remained in the gateway until Shayne called to him, crossed the yard reluctantly.
“Where are the mules, amigo?” Shayne
- asked.
“Out on the range,” Robusto replied. “The vaqueros will bring them in.” ©
“Well, there’s no hurry,” Shayne told him. “I’ve decided to loaf around Here a couple days.”
Robusto’s face stiffened. “Thete is ok
“Take your You aré not
ing here for you,’ he said. supplies and clear out. wanted at the X Bar X.”
Shayne laughed. “Let’s go look at the stuff, eh, friend?”
Robusto swore in Spanish, but led the way to the barn. He called to Gonzales, telling him to send two vaqueros over to give him a hand. Inside the barn, Robusto put the two X Bar X men to work moving a sizable stack of bagged grain. But the sacks of corn and oats were only a cover
for what was stacked behind them—cases
of rifles, boxes of ammunition, kegs of horse-shoes, cases of canned food. Hatfield estimated that the value of the
ardo would indeed. be able to launch a
campaign, once the stuff was delivered to him.
\
then he -™
9
supplies amounted to about five thousand ~ dollars, and that there were two hundred _or more rifles stored there. General Mer-
- Se
alg a,
checking them against his list which, Hat-
_ field supposed, he had obtained from the
secretive. Carter Styles. When satisfied with his check, Shayne nodded to Ro- busto.
“Tt looks all right,” he said. “Now rll
have a talk with the widow.”
“Senora Forbes is not yet up,” Robusto told him.
“Tll wake her.”
“No!”
-Shayne’s face hardened, and with the black eye-patch and the great scar across the right cheek it looked satanic. “Friend, I grow weary of you,” he said. “If you’re so stupid that you don’t know that I’m boss here so long as I stay, you know it how. And the woman is going to know
- it, too!”
He turned to leave the barn.
Robusto muttered another oath, then bent and grabbed the long-bladed knife from his boot. He was about to throw himself upon the back of the unsuspecting Shayne, no doubt to slit his throat, when Hatfield grabbed him.
“Wait!” the Lone Wolf whispered. “The time’s not ripe yet!”
He held the man in a viselike grip and Shayne, still unaware of his danger, left the barn. When Robusto finally got con- trol of himself, he looked questioningly at Hatfield.
“You mean. . .?”
“T’m with you. We won t let him force
himself on the senora.’
“You speak the truth, hombre?”
“You'll have to take my word,” Hat- “Tl side you if he tries anything. But don’t go off half-cocked
and kill now, for the others will only.
kill you.” He was silent a moment, study- ing the man. He came to the conclusion that if Robusto O’Reilly had any vir- tue, is was that he was loyal to Lanya Forbes. He added, ‘Tell old Hernandez to call in the vaqueros and have them stand by in case we have some trouble. You savvy?”
- Robusto nodded jerkily.
-gers—” to take care of him, Dolan!” _
$ ie; &
42 | TEXAS RANGERS Shayne took a paper from his pocket. and made a hasty inventory of the stores, -
NE of the x Bar x vaquieros came ‘into the ranchyard at a gallop as they stepped from the barn. He jerked his mount to a sliding halt, dropped from saddle, ran to Hernandez Gonzales, agus
ing eicited Spanish.
Shayne had halted midway across the yard to stare at him. The other outlaws, loafing in the shade of the cookshack and the bunkhouse, also watched. “Robusto headed for the vaquero and Gonzales.
“What’s wrong?” he called.
Gonzales ‘shrugged. “It is only that a lawman is riding this way,” he said.
It was as though a bombshell had ex- ploded. A stunned silence blanketed the men about the ranchyard. Then Shayne muttered an obscene oath, and demanded, “What is this lawman—a Ranger scouting the trail for others following him?”
Gonzales shook his head. “Diego says that there’s nobody behind him. The man is Sheriff Ward, from Charco Wells.”
Shayne turned his one-eyed gaze on the man posing as Tall Tom Dolan. “He’s on your trail,” he said accusingly. “You were the last man to ride down this way. Ward’s a damned bloodhound on a irail. If he should slip up on this place and see us here, then get back to report to the Ran- He swore again. “It’s up to you
Hatfield nodded. oy guess you Te. Sight, Major.”
“And don’t let that soft streak of yours get the best of you,’ Shayne said. “Re- member, only dead men tell no tales.”
“Tll take care of him.”
. “Yeah, and I'll go along to see that you - do!” Dutch Brucker spoke up, his dark gaze on the Lone Wolf. oy objections, Dolan?”
Hatfield stared back at him. He knew it would appear suspicious to all of them if he ‘turned down Brucker’s ofier, He knew, too, that the man would either ride with Ss or follow him, and it might work out better if they rode together.
He said, ‘No objections, Dutch.” / |
“T’ll ride along, too,” Sailor Dunn put in. ae | Anger gripped Jim Hatfield, but he ©
TRAIL OF THE DESERT WITCH | 43
choked it i
“Glad to have you, Sailor,” he said, and went to mount Goldie.
They rode with him, fic wacpicious Dutch Brucker and the friendly Sailor Dunn. They expected him to bushwhack
the lawman, and he must finda way of deceiving them into thinking he would do the job — to keep them from doing it. He realized that he might be able to get the drop on them, disarm them, place them under arrest, then, after a talk with the sheriff, turn them over to him. Or he could take them out of the Big Bend himself.
But neither plan suited him. If he
turned them over to Sheriff Ward, he ©
would be hard put to explain it when he returned to the X Bar X Ranch without them. Shayne and the other outlaws would guess what he’d done. As for his taking them to jail— Well, Captain Mc- Dowell’s orders had said nothing about
his quitting the outlaw band once he’d
joined it. Evidently, his chief wanted him to stay in the Big Bend until the gang was rounded up. Also, there was Lanya Forbes to consider. He had promised Ro- busto O’Reilly that he would help protect her from Bucky Shayné.
It was a tricky situation, and Hatfield felt caught in a trap.
‘They rode through the V-shaped notch in the hills, then through the rough coun- try to the north. Topping a rocky ridge, they saw a tiny moving speck far out along
the trace. They reined in, watching, know-
ing a rider was coming along at a walk. Brucker spat, and said, “Well, there’s
your man, Dolan. An easy mark.”
_ Hatfield was surveying the vast stretch
of rock and brush. He said, “You two
wait here. I'll circle around and get be-.
hind him. That way, if he should get me, you can get him.”
“Tl go with you,’ “Brocker said, ‘Sailor can stay here.” : 7
Sailor Dunn said, “You stay with me, like Tom says. That badge-toter is his meat, and Tall Tom is the man to take care of him. You're staying here, Dutch.”
Hatfield swung Goldie away from them, |
Tom Dolan, on orders,”
quartering down the ridge and avoiding the road. When he looked back, Dunn and Brucker had vanished among some bould- ers overlooking the road.
HE LONE WOLF breathed easier 3 and the success of his hastily formed plan now depended upon the “oncoming lawman. He aimed toward a cluster of rocks that would hide him from both the sheriff and the two men on the ridge. Leaving Goldie in some brush, well back from the rocks, he went on afoot. He drew one of his Colts as he concealed himself among the great boulders. And shortly he heard the clop-clopping of hoofs, Peering from his hiding place, he saw that Sheriff Ward was one of those peace officers grown old in the service of law and order. A genuine manhunter, a hater of men like Tall Tom Dolan. A man with- out fear. | Hatfield stepped out behind him, and
said, “Put your hands on your saddle-
horn, Sheriff, and listen to me! It means you life!”
A less experienced man might have grabbed for his gun and wheeled his horse about. But Ward, after a start, reined
in and put his hands on his pommel.
‘The Ranger said, “There are two outlaws hiding on that ridge yonder, waiting to gun you down, Ward. I’m Jim Hatfield . of the Texas Rangers and—”
“The Lone Wolf!”
“Yeah — and I’m pretending to be Tall Hatfield said terse- ly. anes spoiling my game, friend. I was sent out by the outlaw crowd to kill you. I’m going to fire a shot, so you STOP like your dying. Savvy?”
“A little.”
“Lay still for a half-hour, then head back to Charco Wells,” Hatfield said.
_ And he fired a shot.
The sheriff's horse spooked, began to buck, and when Ward dropped from its back, he went down hard. He sprawled out, lay motionless. Hatfield stepped close, fired a shot into the ground. He knelt and rolled Ward over onto his back.
“I’m taking your badge, Sheriff, as evi-
44 3 TEXAS RANGERS
- dence that you’re a dead man.” “Hatfield, I feel like a darned fool.” : “Better that than a dead man, as you would be now if I was Tall Tom Dolan.”
Hatfield unpinned the badge, rose and went to get Goldie. As he rode toward the ridge, he saw Brucker and Dunn come from the rocks there and head his way. He lifted Goldie to a lope to head them off, he met them at the bottom of the slope. He reined in facing them and showed them
the badge.
“A present for Bucky = boys,” he said.
Then he chilled, for Dutch ——— was staring at him with a startled look of recognition. The outlaw said, “Now I know where I saw you before, hombre. It was at San Antone and—”
He broke off, grabbed for his gun.
Hatfield drew, too, but Sailor Dunn’s gun crashed simultaneously with Bruck- er’s. There was a-scream from Brucker, then he went all loose and pitched from his horse. His shot had missed Hatfield by a narrow margin, and now he was dead because he’d probed too hard into his memory. Sailor Dunn looked shaken. °
“The crazy galoot!” Dunn exclaimed. “Why'd he try to kill you, Tom?”
Hatfield shook his head.
Dunn said worriedly, “This’ll make trouble for me. Brucker had a_lot of friends in the bunch. They'll fix me for killing him!”
“No need to tell them that you killed him,” Hatfield said. we piston the sheriff put up a fight and Brucker got killed in it.”
Sailor Dunn was greatly relieved. Rid
when Hatfield thanked him for saving his
life, he looked pleased. They dismounted, lifted Brucker’s body, and placed it across the saddle of his horse, tying it in place with his lariat. Dunn asked what they ‘should do about the sheriff’s body.
Hatfield said, Dolan-fashion, it for the buzzards.”
“They rode back toward the X Bar X Ranch, Sailor Dunn leading the horse beevine Dutch Brucker’s sees
“Leave
“They'll believe it if
COUPLE of Hrucker’ s friends with
the group at ranch headquarters were bitter about his death, but accepted the word of Sailor Dunn and “Tall Tom Dolan” that the outlaw had been killed in a gun-fight with the sheriff. They took © the body away to bury it.
The X Bar X vaqueros had res in a band of thirty wild-looking mules and were holding the critters on a flat. out behind the barn. The outlaws showed nea inclination to rig the mules with pack- saddles, and Bucky Shayne was not in evidence.
Robusto O’Reilly was sitting in the door- way of the bunkhouse, holding his head in his hands, and Hatfield saw that he had been eon whipped.
“Shayne?” the Lone Wolf aalecd.
Robusto swore lurid Spanish oaths.
“Where's he now?” Hatfield asked. the house?”
“Yes. And his men have erders to shoot me if I go there.”
“T’ll go in your place,” Hatfield said. “Did you tell old Hernandez to have the vaqueros ready for oa
“Si. And they are ready.”
“Good. But don’t let them start anything
“Tn
unless I can’t handle Shayne.”
Robusto nodded. He was a sick looking man.
Hatfield crossed the yard, and none of the outlaws tried to stop him. He had entered the patio and crossed it to the gallery when he heard angry voices from Lanya Forbes’s office. He opened the door, stepped inside. She was holding Shayne at bay with a small revolver held steadily on his middle.
CHAPTER VIII
Kill — or Die Trying! |
ATFIELD closed the door, stood
with his shoulders to it. He took
out makings and shook some tobacco into a paper, = at Bucky Shayne. ~
ko
TRAIL OF THE DESERT WITCH __ a AS
“The lady doesn’t seem romantically inclined, Major,” he said. “Or is it that your manly beauty doesn’t appeal to her?” - Shayne’s scarred, one-eyed face was ugly. “She needs a little taming, that’s all,” he said savagely. “And damn it, ’ve made up my mind to stay here until I do the taming!”
“What about getting those supplies to
Merardo?” “They'll keep.” “The General may be annoyed.”
Shayne cursed General Merardo. He
A TALL TEXAS TALE
Brucker got killed. Some of the boys are digging his grave now.”
Shayne was untouched. ‘“Brucker’s kind are easy to find,” he said, and came to the door.
| Hatfield stepped aside. — — e Shayne opened the door, then looked at Lanya who still had him covered with -
her revolver. He said, “Dolan, get that gun away from her. That’s an order.”
He went out, closing the door, without waiting for a reply.
Hatfield went to a window, wanting to —
BIGGER AND BETTER
“Texas is bigger and better than any place in the world, and any-
& oF one } f tie big man stood on the seat of his buckboard and bellowed, 2
where. ~
thing in it is bigger and better than they got anywheres: else!”
A crowd gathered, and they asked h’m‘about women and horses and cabbages and kings, and the big man readily admitted that Texas had them all and of a size that could not even be approached else-
A little man in a stovepipe hat piped up: “The only thing you’ve ~ convinced me that Texas has that’s bigger and better than anything of its kind else-’
where—is liars. So how can I bel’eve any of the other th’ ngs vo
vee said?”
“Why, that’s easy,” replied the big one without pause, “if you'll just keep in mind the fact that a Texan never tells lies about anythng but the pure truth. Can you :
deny that, my friend?”
The man in the stovepipe hat looked a bit bewildered and at last had to shake his head sadly, knowing he’d got caught in his own trap.
kept looking at Lanya Forbes, and seemed to be considering what his chances would be if he jumped her.
Hatfield told him. He said, “I’m betting she'll shoot, and she’l] hit you, too, Major.”
Shayne thought that over, then said, “Yes, it’s a possibility.” He got his temper under control, and managed a lopsided grin. ‘Well, I can wait.” He moved back a couple steps. “Maybe you'll have better luck with her. eh? To try ‘your luck?”
Hatfield lighted a match with his thumb nail, held the flame to his cigarette.
“What about that sheriff?” Shayne asked.
“He won't bother us any,” Hatfield told
him. “But there was shooting, and Dutch |
f
om
That’s why you're here,
make sure that the bandit chief did not eavesdrop at the door. Shavne leaving the patio, he turned and studied Lanya Forbes. cigarette, saying nothing. She _ stood backed against her desk, the gun still in her hand but now pointed downward. Her face was pale, and there was a trapped look in her eyes.
Hatfield said, “You don’t need to fear me. I’m not going to try to disarm you.” His voice was gentler than Tall Tom Do- lan’s could have been. —
She went to pieces then, her shoulder’ |
drooping and tears —o in her eyes. She said chokingly, “Why won’t he leave me alone? I’m not like men think. Just because I’m a widow and alone, every-
e ; ?
When he saw |
He puffed on his —
_ ten others.
1”?
of easy virtue, And I’m not, I tell you!
“T know, Mrs. Forbes.”
“But that horrible man—”’
“It doesn’t matter to him what ict of a woman you are,” Hatfield told her. “Good or bad, it doesn’t matter — so long as he finds a woman desirable. He’s no ordinary outlaw, Lanva. He’s not just a cowboy gone wrong. He’s an unscrup- ulous scoundrel, Bucky Shayne is. Now and then you'll come upon men like him. He figures he can have what he wants, and he doesn’t care how he gets it. He lives by no rules. You've reason to fear him, I know. But I’ll do what I cen to protect you. But I’m one against him and Unless Robusto and the va- queros side me.’
“Tt’s not only Shavne,” she said bitter- ly. “It’s everybody. Kverybody thinks the worst of me. Is it because I made myself less than respectable by coming into the Big Bend?”
“If you want to know, it’s Robusto.”
“But he’s only my bodyguard, just a hired hand!”’ ;
Hatfield nodded. “I believe that,” he told her. “But most people only believe what they want to. Robusto is a big, handsome fellow. He’s with you all the time. They think he’s more to you than just a hired hand. And it could be that Robusto sometimes gives them a little rea-
son to believe it.”
“Yes, that must be it,” Lanya said. “But when I settled here, I knew that the va- queros weren’t enough to keep me safe. Hernandez Gonzales told me about Ro- busto. A brave man, a good man with a gun, so Hernandez told me. So I sent
for him, gave him the job. He did well un-
til lately. But then Carter Styles settled nearby, and Robusto failed to give me real protection against him.” “And Styles is a Poriner ef Shayne’s?” “Yes.”
“You fear Styles too?”
~ANYA nodded. “For two reasons,” she said huskily. “He holds several
- thousand dollars worth of IOUs signed by
46 | TEXAS RANGERS body detache that I—well, that ’m a woman
my late husband. I hadn’t the cash to buy - them, as I felt I should. After all, my husband’ s signature—’ She was silent a moment, a faraway look in her eyes. She must have been remembering her husband. Then she went on, “Styles first insisted upon my taking him in as a part- owner of the X Bar X. I refused and Ro- busto backed me up. Next Styles came with a proposition. He’d let me earn, as he called it; the IOUs. I was to store goods here that he was having freighted in from some place in Missouri. He’d made a business agreement with a band of men wanted by the Rangers. He knew I hate the Rangers. Robusto backed him on that, and I gave in. I found out too late that a part of each shipment that came to the ranch was guns and ammunition. It was too late for me to try and back out then.”
“Did Styles keep his promise?”’
“Partly. He’s turned over .one IOU for a thousand dollars.”
“No court would say that you should pay your dead husband’s gambling debts.”
Lanya gave him a bitter look. “I want nothing to do with the courts,” she said. “A Texas court acquitted the Rangers who murdered my husband.” —_—-
Hatfield said nothing to that, though he was well aware that her husband’s death had not been murder. The Rangers had killed him in a gun-baitle, in the line of duty. He felt sorry for her, and wished’
‘he were free to speak out and reveal that
at this very moment plans were being carried out to end Maser Bucky Shayne’s reign of terror.
She had “been tricked into letting the
_ supplies for the bandido, Merardo, be de-
livered and stored at her ranch. She had not been told that guns and ammunition were among the supplies, and she had been helpless when she had discovered it. Hatfield was secretly relieved to know — that she was not a willing accomplice of Shayne’s. She said dully, “I don’t know where this
will all end for me. Robusto has lost his
nerve, and the vaqueros are too few to fight ‘he outlaws. I don’t know if I have
TRAIL OF THE DESERT WITCH 7 47 _the courage to kill Shayne if he tries to
force himself on me again. And I know that Carter Styles is just waiting his chance to take over the X Bar X Ranch. Or if not he, then someone else will try it.” She smiled bleakly. “They call me
the eee Wet but I’m just a frightened
woman.’ “You should have stayed where the law could protect you.” “The law — Texas Rangers!” “You could be wrong about them, Lanya.”
“That's a strange thing for an outlaw to.
say, Tom Dolan.” He had almost forgot that he was pos- ing as Dolan. He smiled thinly. “What I
meant was, that if you had your ranch
outside the wild country and anybody
‘bothered you—me for example—you could
appeal to the Rangers and they’d rid you of me in a hurry. Don’t you see that?”
“All I can see is that my husband is dead because of them,” she said. “And I’m lost and lonely without him.”
“There'll be another man for you some day. I’m sure of it
“No ee
He smiled again, and did not argue the
‘point with her. But she was young still,
and “incredibly lovely. She was made to love and be loved, and somehow he knew that sooner or later a man—a good man— would come along and win her in spite of her clinging to the memory of Sam Forbes.
He said, ‘“T’ll keep an eye on Shayne. And try to keep him away from here.”
He opened the door, went out. Crossing the patio, he heard a commotion in the ranchyard. When he reached the patio gate, he saw that Shayne and his outlaws were disarming Robusto O’ neny and the xX. Bar X vaqueros.
~The outlaw chief was i to have his way here at the X Bar X Ranch, and was making sure re would be no interference.
There was a despairing look in Robus- to’s blue eyes, and old Hernandez Gon- zales was shaking with helpless rage. The
-vaqueros were sullen; but, without their — guns, they were frightened, too. Bucky
ne ee Re ee ge
Shayne strutted back and forth, mak- ing sure that his men didn’t miss a single
weapon when they disarmed the vaqueros.
Sailor Dunn and three other outlaws were taking the guns from the X Bar X men,
dumping them into gunnysacks. The rest
of the outlaws = by with their guns drawn and cocked.
HAYNE finally turned to Robusto, bF and said, “Here’s the deal. Tell Sefiora Forhes that she’s got to deal with me or with Carter Styles. That dude wants this ranch and, by damn, I'll see that he gets it if she doesn’t ask me real polite to keep it from him. Now get going!”
‘Robusto had indeed lost his nerve He 3
walked toward the house like a man in
a daze. Shayne turned to Hatfield grin- ning.
“You take’ that gun from “= Dolan?”
“No. I didn’t get a chance.”
“It was an order!”
“And if I’d carried it out,” the poe Wolf said, “I’d probably be a dead man now. fve a hunch that the senora is a erack shot.” |
“Well, no matter,” Shayne said. got another way to deal with her.”
_He turned away, shouting at the vaque- ros to get out of his sight, then went into the bunkhouse. Hatfield followed him, found him drinking from a bottle. As Hat- field had seen him do before, Shayne poured the whisky down his throat as though it were water.
He grinned at Hatfield. “I made a deal last night with Carter Styles,” he said. “He figures the X Bar X will some day be the best ranch in the Big Bend, and he wants it. He knew the woman will never call in the Rangers, so he figures it’s safe enough for him to take over— through me.’
“So you're giving her no real choice, eh?” ;
“Sure. Between me a Robusto.”
“She was never. Shayne.”
- “So she told you, maybe?
~“T believe her.”
Shayne took another long pull at the
“we
Robusto’s woman,
48 | TEXAS RANGERS.
bottle. voice was becoming thick. “I don’t believe her,” he said. “She’s as wild a woman as any we've got at the Roost. She just needs to forget Robusto for a better man — and I’m that better man.” He carried the bot- tle to a bunk, stretched out. “She’s got until dark to come to terms, Dolan.. And maybe if I like her terms I'll let her keep her ranch — with me as her partner.” » Hatfield said nothing. He left the bunk- house. _ The vaqueros who had families were gone to their houses, and the others, with old Hernandez, were gathered in a deject- ed group over by the corrals. The out- laws had started a poker game at the shady side of the bunkhouse, and those not playing were watching. 7 Hatfield crossed the yard, ecierad the patio. Robusto was coming from the gal- lery. He looked deeper in despair than before. The blood on his left temple had clotted, but Hatfield suspected that the gun-whipping he’d received had left him dazed. The man shook his head. “She will not talk to me,” he said. will not let me inside.”
“She
“Shayne won't pull anything. until to-
night,” Hatfield said. “Be ready then.”’ “What can I do without my gun and my knife? And the vaqueros —”’ “There are guns in the barn,” Hatfield said. “Cases of them. When Shayne and his men are at supper, you and the vaque-
ros arm yourselves. Tell Hernandez it’s
the only way. Shayne may want* the woman, but there’s more to it than that
He’s figuring on turning the ranch over to Carter Styles. So you and the crew have got to fight. But don’t make yenr play too soon. Savvy.” 7
“How will we know when the time is right?”
“V’ll give you the signal.”
Robusto nodded, giving Hatfield a searching look, “But I do not understand why you do His Senor Dolan.”
: “You don’t need to understand it,” ' Hat- field said. “Now clear out. I dan't want any of the Shayne crowd to see us talk-
_ ing.”
i. eyes Isskee bleary, and his —
Robusto nodded, and left the Satis |
Hatfield stood there for a long time after the man was gone. He took out mak- ings and mechanically rolled a cigarette, lost in thought. He had no orders to at- tempt to smash Bucky Shayne. Captain Bill McDowell didn’t expect that of him. On the other hand, McDowell would ex- pect him to do what he could to protect Lanya Forbes. So he made his decision.
He would kill Bucky Shayne a
Or die trying!
~
CHAPTER IX
Battle in the Ranchyard
‘T WAS nearly full dark when Shayne roused himself from drunken sleep. He was in an ugly humor, and he shoved one of his men out of his way when he left
-his bunk. The outlaws had brought their
poker game into the bunkhouse when. it had begun to grow dark, and their loud talk had awakened their leader. They — had gone to the cook shack at sundown, demanded that the X Bar X cook feed them, but none had bothered to wake Shayne so that he could eat. Now he stag- gered from the bunkhouse and headed for the cook shack.
Jim Hatfield followed him at ide. and crossed the yard toward the big sole house. He had no hope that Shayne was suffering too greatly from his hangover to think of molesting Lanya tonight. The man was able to throw off the after-effects
‘of a heavy drunk in a short time. Hatfield
had noticed that during his stay at the Roost. Shayne’s going to the cook shack for a meal proved that he was not ioe too badly.
Robusto was at the patio gate, in =the shadows. He had a rifle in the crook of his arm, and no doubt intended to use it if Shayne came toward the house. Hat- field saw the danger in that. A man whose nerve was gone or had become wobbly —
was never much good with a gun. And
- nandez and two others.
TRAIL OF THE DESERT WITCH oe 49
if Robusto missed his first shot, Shayne | 7 . caught himself just in time.
would give him no chance to fire a second time. | |
Keeping his voice low, Hatfield asked, “Are the vaqueros armed again?”
Robusto spoke in a whisper, but even so anger edged his voice. “No,” he said bitterly. “Only three of them. Old Her- The rest are afraid. The men with families have shut themselves up in their houses. And most of the others say we will all die if we fight the bandidos. But I will kill Shayne, and with the three who armed themselves I will fight his compadres. ©
Hatfield reached out to lay a hand on
Robusto’s arm. It was shaking violently.
“You’re too shaky,” he said. “You'll not kill Shayne. He’ll kill you.”
“All the same, I’ll try to kill him.”
Hatfield shook his. head. “You leave Shayne to me,” he said. “I'll be at the house, and I'll try to disarm him and hold him as a hostage. If I can’t pull that off, there’ll be shooting. That will be the signal for you and Hernandez and the other two
to fight. If I kill Shayne, I'l] join you, and.
we'll have a good chance of winning out. If he kills me—well, you'll have a tough time of it. You and the others place your- selves. where you can .cover the bunk- house door with your rifles. Then open fire when the outlaws come out. Savvy?” “IT don’t like it. I would do it my way.” “You're sure you can shoot straight ehough to kill Shayne with one shot?” Robusto hesitated. “No, Iam not sure.” “Then play it my way, friend.”
“Tf I could trust you, Senor Dolan. But
you are one of his men.”
Hatfield said sourly, “So. are you—or you were. But you changed sides, didn’t you?” He hardened his voice. “Now do as I say. Get away from this gate. Lose yourself in the shadows with the others.”
He turned away without ee to see if the man obeyed. _-
There was lamplight behind ae cur- tained windows of the ranch house office.
And when Hatfield knocked on the door, Lanya called, “Who is at? in a ees
voice.
ee
Hatfield almost gave his own name, “Dolan,” he said. “I’m going to stay with you tonight. Shayne—”
He needed say no more. He heard her slide the bolt on the door. She swung the door open, and said at once, ‘“He’s coming here again?”
He stepped inside, closed the door. “You can count on it,” he told her. “And I want him to. ’'m going to jump him, Lanya.” He didn’t bolt the door.
She held her small revolver, but turned and laid it on the desk. When she faced
him again, her eyes were aglow.
“Tm grateful to you,” she said. “There’s good in you, Tom Dolan.”
“Robusto is loyal to you,” he said. . “He was waiting outside to kill Shayne. I talked him out of it, not wanting to see Ro- busto get killed, as he surely would: He’s not as tough a man as he likes to think, but he’s a good man.”
HE regarded him curiously. “Why. do you talk to me of Robusto?”
He smiled, shrugged. “Maybe because I see him as the way out of your troubles,” he said. “I’m sort of a rough, tough hom- bre to be playing Cupid, pat it seems to me that if you had a husband you wouldn’t be fair game for every man who takes a fancy to you—or to your X Bar X Ranch.”
“T’ve been thinking the same thing since you were here this afternoon.”
“You’re too young to go on being alone.”
“You think I should marry Robusto?”
“He’s in love with you.’
“But I have no such feeling for him,” she said. “Tom Dolan, why don’t you speak for yourself? Or daw t you find me attractive?”
He stared at her, startled by her words. “T think you’re the most desirable woman I’ve ever known,” he told her. “But — Well, I’m an outlaw. Such a man would be no good to you.”
“l’d take a chance,” Lanya told him. “T said there’s good in you.’
“But you have no feeling for me, no more than for Robusto.”
“You’re wrong, Tom.”
sy: es
ing her his _ protection. thought herself in love with him at the
fine man,”
He. felt a rising encienent He had told
her the truth. She was the most desirable
woman he’d ever known. But he was the Lone Wolf, and there was no place in his life for a woman. It was not in him to settle down to being a married man and a rancher. Besides, he sensed that whatever Lanya felt for him came only of his offer- Perhaps she
moment, but it was likely she was mis- taken. And he knew, too, that her feelings would turn to hatred when, as he would certainly have to do, he revealed that he was a Texas Ranger. ~He shook his head. for you, Lanya,” he said. “No more than you say that Robusto is. You’ ve got to understand that.” She was smiling, not hurt = his winds.
“You're a strange man, Tom Dolan,” she |
said. “I think you want me. It’s in your eyes. Why. do you refuse to admit it?” “’m thinking of your own welfare.” “And because of that you’d tell me to find someone else?” Soa: Ce “But you can’t blame any man who would risk as much as you are risking for me,” she said. “You'll risk your life to save me from Shayne. would do so much.” “7 can name one.” She was amused. “Oh?”’
“Ben Tyson. Remember how he stood
up for you in his store?”
Her smile wavered. “Ben Tyson is a she said. “But he’s not bold enough. I know he’s in love with me, but he’s as bashful as a schoolboy. He’s fright- ened of me.’
“He wouldn’t be if you gave him some encouragement.”
She shook her head. “I need a bold man, a strong man.” She crossed to him, put her hands on his shoulders. “A man like you,” she added. after a long moment of looking into his eyes. “Tom, forget you re
an outlaw. I —
ae broke off abruptly, a shocked look nto “her eyes. She had let her
— ies from his shoulders to
“T’m not the man |
No other man
the woman he loved,
30 TEXAS RANGERS
his chest, and the fingers of her right
hand fumbled at his pocket. Alarm knifed
through Hatfield as he realized that she —
had felt the Ranger badge in the pocket.
She took the silver star-in-a-circle badge
out, stared at it with seeming horror. “You!” she gasped. “A Ranger!” “Lanya, listen to me—”
But she made him the target of all her’ -
hatred for the Rangers. She flung the badge at him. It struck his chest, fell to the floor. He stoopned to pick it up. Lanya said wildly, “I’d rather have Shayne here than you!” She whirled to the door, jerked it open. And screamed, “Shaynel”
VEN as she screamed, she shrank back, and the man who had startled
‘her, who had been standing just outside
the door, stepped into the room. It was Ben Tyson. He was carrying his shotgun, and smiling wryly.
He closed the door, and said. “The door wasn’t tightly closed: and just as I was. about to knock I head my name men- tioned. Naturally, I was curious. So I eavesdropped.”
Neither Hatfield nor Lanya spoke.
Tyson went on, “Thanks for acting as my proxy, Ranger. But a man should always speak for himself.” He looked di- rectly at Lanya. “It seems that this is the
time to do just that—and to stop being _
as bashful as a schoolboy. That’s how you described me, wasn’t it, Lanya?”
“T'm sorry, Ben. I wouldn’t hurt you for worlds.”
“You didn’ t hak me. In fact, you open- ed my eyes.”
As Tyson paused, his gaze intent upon it seemed to Jim Hatfield that the man grew in stature. © Then he realized that Ben Tyson might be slightly built and of only medium — height, but that he had great character. He had kept silent about how he felt toward Lanya Forbes only because he knew she could see no living man as a mate because of the memory of her dead husband. Lanya did not understand Ben i
Fite ea eR eS pe Se BD RN ant ee eS seser ns ee ee rt ee ee - > Ss ysen Deetes SA aa ye c= ETE in a a RE ge
TRAIL OF THE DESERT WITCH ti“‘s~S The man said, “I came here tonight be-
cause I was worried about you, Lanya. I thought you would need protection, even though a Ranger was planted in that out- law crowd. But I'll go a step further. I’ve been in love with you since the first day you entered my store, Lanya. Will you marry me?”.
Lanya gasped. -
Hatfield smiled, but then said davals.
“Ben, watch it!”
He heard loud voices and pounding boots in the patio. Lanya’s scream for Shayne had been heard by some of the
outlaw crowd, and now the man was
coming with some of his men.
The door burst open, and Tyson leaped aside just in time to avoid it slamming into him. He pivoted, swinging up his
double-barreled shotgun. Hatfield drew -
one of his Colts. But Shayne and a half dozen of his men crowded into the room, their guns drawn and cocked.
Shayne’s one-eyed gaze darted from Hatfield to Tyson, then to Lanya. “What’s going on here, anyway?” he demanded. “What's this storekeeper want?”
It seemed to Jim Hatfield that he had never been closer to violent death. The odds were too great, even with Ben Tyson
siding him. It might be that the merchant.
would never get a chance to cut loose with his shotgun, for at least four of the outlaws had him covered. All that had saved Tyson so far was Bucky Shayne’s curiosity. The outlaw chief needed to know what was happening. :
He moved toward Lanya, “You yelled for me. Why?”
“Tt was nothing,’ Lanya said, shrinking from him. “Nothing at all.”
“What's Tyson want?”
“T—I don®t~know.”
Lanya was backed against the desk now, and she reached behind her for the re- volver that lay there. Shayne grabbed cher by the arm, jerked her away from the desk, threw her into an armchair.
“Talk!” he ordered. “And let it be the truth!”
“He asked me to marry him.” - Shayne sneered. “And because of hat
you yelled for me?” he mak and slapped her hard across the face. “You think I be- lieve that?” .
Hatfield started toward him. don’t hit her again!” he said savagely. “She’s upset, hysterical. She doesn’t know
ca
TShevhe, |
what she’s doing, or why she called for
you.” Shayne swung about to Ge hin: “Pm beginning to get mighty suspicious of you,
~ Dolan,” he said. “Just what are you doing
here? Trying to make a deal of your own with her?” He looked at Lanya. “Is that it? Has this hombre been seg some- thing?” |
ANYA’S face was pale except for her left cheek, which was red from Shayne’s blow. She glanced at the Lone
Wolf; and he wondered if it occurred to. her that now she could have her revenge
on the Texas Rangers. She had only to tell Shayne what he was, if hatred of the Rangers really obsessed her But Lanya shook her head.
“He’ s not tried to pull anything with me.’ . Hatfield breathed more easily. It was possible that the situation might somehow change so that there would be no gun play while the odds against him were so great. Lanya wasn’t going to give him away.
He said, “A lot of fuss about nothing. Let’s go outside: Shayne.”
But Bucky Shayne wasn’t satisfied. “Not until I get to the bottom of this,” he said. He turned toward Ben Tyson. “How'd you get in here without my men seeing you?”
Tyson was a game one. He gave Shayne a mocking smile. “I left my horse out a
- piece, came in on foot, from behind the
house. What are you worried about, Shayne? I’m just a storekeeper, and you're the famous Major Bucky Shayne
with a dozen men backing you up.” He
had .a two-handed grip on his shotgun, and its twin muzzles were aimed at Shayne..- “The lady told you the truth,” he went on. “I asked her to marry me.
I’m still waiting for her answer.’ “Why’d she yell for me?”
ai
ee
: s
FAL App poate lt
52 a TEXAS RANGERS
“How should I know?”
Shayne cursed him. “You're pretty smart—you think,” he said. He moved around behind the chair in which Lanya sat. To keep her from leaving it, he grabbed her hair with his left hand. N ow, you smart aleck,” he told. Tyson, “let’s sep you empty that shotgun at me!”
The shotgun wavered. One of the out- laws grabbed it from Tyson’s hands, eased it off cock, flung it across the room. He clubbed Tyson with his gun, the barrel striking the merchant across the left cheek. Tyson cried out, fell to his knees.
Shayne laughed. He released Lanya’s hair after rumpling it. “I figured he -wouldn’t pump scatter-shot into you, baby,” he told her. ‘“What’s it matter why you called for me? You wanted me to come, and I’m here.” He turned to his men. “Clear out,” he ordered. Dolan with you.”
It was then that guns began to racket in the ranchyard. At first four rifle shots were all so close together they could not have come from a single weapon, and it flashed through Hatfield’s mind that Ro- busto and the three vaqueros who had
armed themselves had opened fire on the
‘rest of Shayne’s men as a distraction. They were trying to draw Shayne and the outlaws with him from the house, away from Lanya. More shots crashed, many shots. Men shouted, cursed. One, no doubt hit, screamed.
iene yelled, “Get out there, you fools! Those vaqueros are armed again? |
The six men crowded through the door- way. Outside, the guns had fallen silent. Either Robusto and the three vaqueros had been cut down, or had withdrawn. There was still a great deal of shouting but Hatfield thought it was being done by the outlaws. Bucky Shayne had start- ed to follow the others from the house, but now“he halted and gestured.
“Get out there, Dolan!” he said. “What are you waiting for?”
Hatfield turned toward the door. But instead of leaving, he closed the door and swung around to face Shayne.
Shayne backed away, halted between
“And take.
‘the chair in which Lanya sat and the desk.
Lanya had her wits about her. She leaped
from the chair and moved to the side of
the room so that Shayne could not again use her as a shield. Ben Tyson picked © himself up, stood swaying. He looked dazed. |
Shayne said. “So you’re crossing me, eh, Dolan?” His face was ugly with rage and hatred. ‘What do you aim to do? Kill me and take over my bunch?” _
Hatfield saw no fear in Bucky Shayne. The man was as devoid of fear as he was of principles. Shayne’s gun was steady, boring at the man he thought was Tom Dolan. That Hatfield’s gun was aimed at him seemed to bother him not at all. He would start shooting in a moment, and the Ranger had a feeling that both would die. Unless he could somehow upset Shayne.
HERE was no longer any reason for
Hatfield to masquerade as Tall Tom Dolan. Shayne would try to kill him now no matter who the man thought him to be. But the truth might jolt Shayne so that the cocked gun in fiis hand would be less — steady.
Hatfield said, “You should eueKs again. I’m not out to fs Se over your wild bunch. You’ve made a big mistake about me. You see, Shayne, I’m a Texas Ranger.”
It was a jolt. But Shayne merely gave a start. His gun did not waver. The room was tautly silent. Lanya Forbes pressed against the wall. Ben Tyson had stopped swaying, stood motionless. The two men with guns aimed at each other, lawman and outlaw, were like statues for a mo- ment, even their eyes unblinking.
Then the Lone Wolf said, “Drop your gun, Shayne. You’re under arrest.”
“You think you can get away with this, with my men outside?”
“Sure. I can handle them. Like you once said, they’re a bunch of ignora- muses.” |
“And you'll take me to Austin as a prisoner?” : | “That’s it,’ Hatfield said. “The way I see it, friend, you’ve got a decision to make. You can shoot it out with me now,
TRAIL OF THE DESERT WITCH : 53
and the two of us will die. Or you can submit to arrest and hope that your men can keep me from taking you away from here. What’s it to be, Shayne?”
The outlaw smiled in ugly fashion. “I'll submit, and let my boys take care of you, Ranger,” he said. He eased his‘ gun off cock and threw it to the floor.
Ben Tyson got the gun, careful not to get between Shayne and Hatfield’s six- shooter. The merchant moved back, cov- ering the outlaw with the gun.
Tyson said, “He’s playing it smart, Hat- |
field. His men will never let you take him away from here. Unless you’ve got a way to trick them.”
“T’ve got a way,” the Ranger said. “Lanya, will you get some rope and some- thing to gag him with?”
Lanya said, “Yes, of course, ried out of the room. |
Hatfield said, “Ben, we’re going to tie him up. And gag him so that he can’t tip off his men that I’m a Ranger. Then I’m going out there and as Tall Tom Dolan Ill tell them Shayne says they’re to get those supplies on the mules. And while they’ re busy—”’
” and hur-
“Smart,” Shayne cut in. “But you won’t
get wae with it. There’ll be a slip-up. They won’t leave without me. They’ll come hunting me.”
_ Hatfield went on imperturbably, “And while they’re busy loading that stuff for General Merardo on the mules, I'll get the X Bar X vaqueros together. Then—
He broke off as the shooting outside began again.
Lanya returned from some other part of the house. She carried a lariat, and a scarf that could be used to gag Shayne. The outlaw no-longer had himself under control. He looked wildly about, seeking a means of escape. Tyson took the lariat from Lanya, then stepped behind Shayne.
“Put your hands behind you, Shayne,” he ordered. |
Shayne muttered an oath, then pivoted toward the desk. With one hand he snatched Lanya’s little revolver, and with the other he grabbed the lamp. ‘Whipping about, he hurled the lamp at Hatfield. ‘The
z oe so ee
Lone Wolf fired a shot at him as he ducked, but missed. The lamp struck the door, shattered explosively. The room was plunged into inky darkness.
Shayne’s gun cracked, its muzzle flash
bright in the darkness. Then the man was.
in motion, and again a shot fired by Hat- field missed. The next instant Shayne was crashing through a window.
‘The Ranger made the mistake of run-
ning to the window through which the
man had disappeared. Then, rather than risk gashing himself on the jagged glass,
_he turned toward the door.
As he plunged out onto the gallery, he had a glimpse of Shayne running along it. The fleeing man left the gallery, darted past the well in the patio, scrambled over the adobe wall like an agile monkey, dropped from Hatfield’s sight.
Hatfield did not go to the wall, feeling
sure that Shayne would be waiting on the other side to pick him off. He crossed the patio to the gate. Guns were still racket- ing in the ranchyard. There was enough moonlight to show four men sprawled lifelessly. He had the impression that they were all outlaws.
AUSING in the gateway, he saw that
Shayne’s surviving men were firing at the closed door of the barn. Robusto and the vaqueros were forted up in there.
“Loop-holes had been cut in the heavy -door, and two rifles returned the outlaws’
fire from them.
The outlaws were being stood off. They.
were firing from the cover of the bunk-
house and the cook shack, and Hatfield |
counted six guns in action on their side. Bucky Shayne had brought a dozen men
with him to the X Bar X Ranch. Eleven,
not counting Hatfield. Dutch Brucker had
- been killed by Sailor Dunn. Four others
lay dead in the ranchyard. So the count
was right. Only six of the group were left
alive, and Bucky Shayne did not appear
now to give them a hand.
= Shayne was trying to make a getaway! Hatfield hesitated a moment longer,
then made his decision. Shayne was the — important one; the man who should be >
a TEXAS RANGERS
destroyed: But Robusto and the three loyal vaqueros deserved a helping hand. Hatfield decided to give it to them.
He waited for a lull in the shooting, then shouted, ‘Listen, men! This is Tall Tom Dolan, and I’ve got something to tell you!” There was a sudden silence, with even
the guns in the barn stilled.
Then Sailor Dunn called, “Say it, Tom!”
“Shayne’s gone!” Hatfield yelled, and hoped that this was the last time that he would have to play the role of Tall Tom Dolan. “He’s run out on us!”
Angry oaths came from the outlaws. ~_
Hatfield called, “I say we get out of here! What’s the use of fighting when even Shayne knows it’s a losing fight, and
wants no part of it?” . There was silence again for a moment,
then Sailor Dunn yelled, “Let’s get out of here!”
And the next instant the: six anlage were running for their horses.
They rode away from the X Bar X headquarters at a gallop.
But for the Lone Wolf the fight wasn’t won. Bucky Shayne was still alive, and Ranger Jim Hatfield wouldn’t have any peace of mind until he hunted the man down.
em ren
CHAPTER X _
-Death—for Law and Order
MONZALES, the X Bar X mayordomo, opened the barn door for Hatfield, then lighted a lantern. The old ranch boss was unharmed except for a bloody bullet crease in his left arm. One of the vaqueros had not been hit at all. But another was dead, and Robusto O’Reilly lay barely conscious, with three bullet wounds in him. Hatfield knelt beside him.
“You put up a good fight, amige,” he said.
“The senora?”’
“She is unharmed.”
Robusto smiled. “There is one thing
worrying me, Sefior Dolan. oa :
The Lone Wolf said, “Jim Hatfield is the name, Robusto. I'm a Texas Ranger.”
“Oh? Now I savvy you.”
“What’s this thing that’s worrying you?” |
“T once tried to have you killed. I am sorry about that.”
Hatfield said, “Forget it. I have.” He rose and isoked at old Hernandez. “Ben Tyson is at the house. He knows a little about doctoring. Maybe he can do some- thing for Robusto.”
“Si.” Gonzales said. “I will get him.”
Hatfield- left the barn with him, then went to saddle Goldie. He was ready to mount when Gonzales came from the house with Ben Tyson.
He said, “Ben, did you send my note to Captain McDowell?”
Tyson nodded. ‘Within an hour