Part 19 (2/2)
”That's right,” said the oldest awkwardly. ”I suppose we ought to----”
”Ought to!” repeated one of the others, jumping to his feet. ”By George, we will! I ain't the kind to go back on a woman like Mrs.
Thomas. I don't care what yuh others do!”
”That's what I say,” chorused his two companions in the same breath.
”I'll show yo' I aim to play fair,” Kid Wolf approved. He took a handful of gold pieces from his pocket and placed them on the table in a little pile. ”This is all I have, but Mrs. Thomas isn't in a position to pay right now, so heah is yo' first month's wages in advance.”
The three looked at him and gulped. If ever three men were ashamed, they appeared to be. The old cow-puncher pushed the pile back to The Kid.
”We ain't takin' it,” he mumbled. ”Don't get us wrong, partner. We ain't thet kind. We never would've quit the S Bar if it hadn't been for Steve Stacy--the foreman. And, of course, things was goin' all right at the ranch then. Guess it's all our fault, and we're willin'
to right it. We don't know yuh, but yo're O.K., son.”
They shook hands warmly. The Kid learned that the oldest of the three was Anton. Wise was the bow-legged one, and Lathum was freckled and tall.
”Stacy hadn't better know about this,” Lathum decided.
”I was hopin' to get him back,” said The Kid.
”No chance. He's in with the major now,” spoke up Wise. ”So's Mullhall. Neither of 'em will listen--and they'll make trouble when they find we're goin' back.”
”If yo'-all feel the same way as I do,” Kid Wolf drawled as they filed out of the back room, ”they won't have to make trouble. It'll be theah fo' 'em.”
As they approached the bar, Anton clutched The Kid's elbow.
”There's Steve Stacy and Mullhall now,” he warned in a low voice.
Stacy and Mullhall were big men, heavily built. Upon seeing the party emerge from the back room, they pushed away from the bar and came directly toward Kid Wolf, who was walking in the lead.
”Steve Stacy's the hombre in front,” Wise whispered. ”Be on yore guard.”
The Kid knew the ex-foreman's type even before he spoke. He was the loud-mouthed and overbearing kind of waddy--a gunman first and a cowman afterward. His beefy face was flushed as red as his flannel s.h.i.+rt.
His eyes were fixed boldly on the Texan.
”The barkeeper tells me yuh were inquirin' fer me,” he said heavily.
”What's on yore mind?”
Mullhall was directly behind him, insolent of face and bearing. The two seemed to be paying no attention to the trio of men behind The Kid.
”I was just goin' to offah yo' a chance to come back to the S Bar,”
explained Kid Wolf. ”These three caballeros have already signed the pay roll again.”
It was putting up the issue squarely, with no hedging. Both Stacy and Mullhall darkened with fury.
”What's yore little game? I guess it's about time to put an extra spoke in yore wheel!” snarled Mullhall, coming forward.
”Who in blazes are you?” sneered Stacy.
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