Part 29 (1/2)
”Oh,” said The Kid softly, ”yo're that kind of a cattle king.”
”Out here,” Gentleman John leered, ”the Colt is power. I've got ranches, cattle. I've managed to do well. I need gunmen--men who can shoot fast and obey orders. I can see that yo're a better man than Blacksnake. I'm payin' him fifty a day. Take his job, and yuh'll get a hundred.”
Kid Wolf did not seem in the least enthusiastic, and the man in black went on eagerly:
”Yuh won a couple o' thousand to-night, Kid. But that won't last forever. Think what a hundred in gold a day means. And all yuh have to do is ter----”
”Murdah!” snapped the Texan. ”Yo've mistaken yo' man, sah. Mah answah is 'no'! I'm not a hired killah, and the man who tries to hire me had bettah beware. Why, yo're nothin' but a cheap cutthroat!”
The cold eyes of the other suddenly blazed. He made a quick motion toward his waistcoat with his thin hand.
Kid Wolf laughed quietly. ”Heah's yo' gun, sah,” he said, handing the astonished Gentleman John a small, ugly derringer. ”When I b.u.mped into yo' in the doorway, I took the liberty to remove it. I nevah trust an hombre with eyes like yo's. Nevah mind tryin' to use it, fo' I've unloaded it.”
The face of the man in black was white with fury. His gimlet eyes had narrowed to slits, and his mouth was distorted with rage. It was the face of a killer--a murderer without conscience or pity.
”I'll get yuh for this, Wolf!” he bellowed. ”Yuh'll find out how strong I am here. This country isn't big enough to hold us both, blast yuh! When our trails meet again, take care!”
The Kid raised one eyebrow. ”I always do take care,” he drawled. ”And while I'm heah in Skull County, yo'd bettah keep yo' dirty work undah covah. Adios!”
And humming musically under his breath, The Kid strolled toward the hitch rack where he had left his horse.
CHAPTER XVII
POT SHOTS
There was an old mission at the outskirts of the town of Skull, established many years before there were any other buildings in the vicinity. The Spanish fathers had built it for the Indians, and it remained a sanctuary, in spite of the roughness and badness of the new cow town.
Early on the morning after Kid Wolf's arrival in the town, the old padre was astonished to find a package of money inside his door. It was addressed simply: ”For the poor.” It was a windfall and a much-needed addition to the mission's meager finances.
The padre considered it a gift from Heaven, and where it had come from remained a mystery. The package contained two thousand dollars.
Needless to say, it was Kid Wolf's gift, and the money had been taken from the town's dishonest gamblers.
The Texan remained several days in Skull. He was in no hurry, and the town interested him. Although he heard threats, he was left alone. He saw no more of Gentleman John, nor did he see Blacksnake McCoy. They had disappeared from town, probably on evil business of their own.
A note thrust under The Kid's door at the hotel two mornings later threatened him and advised him to leave the country. The Texan, however, paid no attention to the warning.
The next day, he scouted about the country, sizing up the cattle situation. The honest cattlemen, he found, were very much in the minority. By force, murder, and illegal methods, Gentleman John had obtained most of the land and practically all of the vast cattle herds that roamed the rich rangelands surrounding the town on all sides. Yet to most of the honest element, Gentleman John's true colors were not known. He s.h.i.+elded himself, hiring others to do his unclean work.
There was no law as yet in the county. Gentleman John had managed to keep it out. And even if there had been, it was doubtful if his crimes could be pinned to him, for he had covered his tracks well. Many thought him honest. Only The Kid's keen mind could sense almost immediately what was going on.
The country stretching out from Skull was wild and beautiful. It was an unsettled land, and the trails that led into it were faint and difficult to follow.
One morning, Kid Wolf saddled Blizzard and rode into the southwest toward the purple mountains tipped with snow. It was a beautiful day, cool and crisp. The tang of the air in that high alt.i.tude was sharp and invigorating. The big white horse swung into a joyous lope, and the Texan hummed a Southern melody.
Crossing a wide stretch of plain, they mounted a rise, and the character of the country changed. The smell of sage gave way to the penetrating odor of small pine, as they climbed into the broken foothills that led, in a series of steps, toward the jagged peaks.
Splas.h.i.+ng through a little creek of pure, cold water, The Kid turned Blizzard's head up a pa.s.s between two ridges of pinon-covered b.u.t.tes.
”A big herd's pa.s.sed this way,” The Kid muttered, ”and lately, too.”
They climbed steadily onward, while the Texan searched the trail with keen eyes that missed nothing. Suddenly he drew up his horse.