The Ridin' Kid from Powder River Part 20

"Looks like Gary wanted to put Cotton wise."

"Well, if anything starts, I'll sure keep my eye on that Cotton hombre," said Andy.

"He's easy--and slow," stated Pete. "He ain't got a fightin' eye."

"Here they come," whispered Andy. "I kin hear 'em talkin'."

Pete immediately began to whistle. Andy rose and poked a stick of wood in the stove. "She's right cool up here," he remarked.

"We been kind o' sizin' up things," stated Cotton as Gary and he entered the cabin; an excuse for their absence that was unnecessary and obviously manufactured.

Pete smiled. "I got 'em sized up. Never did cotton to workin' in the dark."

Gary paused in the act of unsnapping his chaps.

He was about to say something when Andy White interrupted by suggesting that they turn in early and rise early that they might get the work done in daylight and not have to spend another night at the cabin.

Gary dragged an old mattress from the bedroom and, dropping it beneath the window, spread his blanket, rolled up in it, and at Cotton's query as to sharing half of the mattress told Cotton to "sleep where he dam'

pleased."

"He's a friendly cuss, ain't he?" remarked Pete.

"Who?" asked Gary, half-rising.

"Why, Cotton, there," replied Pete. "You didn't think I was meanin'

you, did you?"

Andy nudged Pete in the dark. "All right," said Pete, ignoring Andy's meaning. "You git your blanket and we'll bush outside."

They spread their blankets under a cedar, some distance from the cabin, and lay gazing at the stars.

Presently Andy turned to Pete. "Pete," he said gravely, "you're walkin' right into trouble. Every time Gary starts to lope, you rein him up mighty short. He's fightin' the bit, and first thing you know--"

"I'll git pitched, eh? Well, mebby you're right. I done told Bailey that if I ever did meet Steve Gary I would leave him do the talking but I sure can't stand for his line o' talk. He's plumb mean."

"I'll be mighty glad when we git through with this job," said Andy.

"Shucks! It won't take three hours! I know every tree and stump on this flat. We'll be driftin' home 'long about four to-morrow."

CHAPTER XVI

THE OPEN HOLSTER

If there ever was a morning calculated to inspire good-will and heartiness in a human being it was that morning. The dawn came swiftly, battering through a fleece of clouds and painting the Blue Mesa in all the gorgeous and utterly indescribable colors of an Arizona sunrise. The air was crisp and so clear that it seemed to sparkle, like water. Andy White whistled as he gathered up the blankets and plodded toward the cabin. Pete felt like whistling, but for some reason he was silent. He followed Andy to the cabin and saw that the cowboy Cotton was making coffee.

"All we got is cold grub," stated Pete, "but we got plenty for everybody."

"We fetched some coffee and bacon," said Cotton. But he did not invite them to eat.

Pete glanced at Andy. Evidently Cotton had had his instructions or was afraid to make any friendly overtures. Gary was still lying on the mattress by the window, apparently asleep.

Pete stepped to where his own gun hung and buckled it on. "Let's mosey over to the spring and wash," he suggested to Andy. "I ain't no dude, but I kind o' like to wash before I eat."

"Here, too," said Andy. "Mebby we can locate the horses on the way."

When they returned to the cabin, Gary and Cotton were eating breakfast.

Pete flung a pair of broken hobbles on the floor. "Somebody's cayuse got rid of these," he stated casually. He knew that they had been on Gary's horse, as he had seen Gary hobble him. Pete turned and strode out. Andy was unwrapping their lunch. Presently Gary and Cotton appeared and picked up their ropes. Andy White, who had seen his own easily caught pony, graciously offered the use of it in hunting the strayed horse, but Gary declined the offer gruffly.

"He's so doggone mean his face hurts him," stated Pete, as Gary and Cotton set off together.

"We'll lose some time if his hoss has lit out for home," said Andy.

"Gary's doin' all he kin to make a job of it," declared Pete. "But I don't wait for him. Soon's we finish eatin' I'm goin' to locate Blue Smoke and git to work. We kin run that line without any help from them. Let 'em walk till they're tired."

"And what do you think of a couple of punchers--_punchers_, mind you--that sit down and eat bacon and drink coffee and don't as much as say 'come in'?"

"I don't waste time thinkin' about such, Andy. You finish up the grub.

I got all I want."

"Shucks! This ain't all. We ain't touched the grub in your saddle-pockets yet. Ma Bailey sure fixed us up right."

"That'll do for noon," said Pete. "I'll run your hoss in, when I git Blue Smoke. Your hoss'll follow, anyway."

"Jest a minute till I git my rope."

"Nope, you stay here. That Blue Smoke hoss knows me. If he spots two of us comin' he's like to git excited and mebby bust his hobbles and light out. I'll ketch him all right."

"Jest as you say, Pete."

The sun was warming the air and it was pleasant to sit and watch the light clouds trail along the far horizon. Andy leaned back against the cedar and rolled a cigarette. He grinned as he recalled how Pete had called Gary at every turn, and yet had given the other no chance to find excuse for a quarrel. Pete was certainly "a cool hand--for a kid." White, several years Pete's senior, always thought of him as not much more than a boy.

Meanwhile Pete, who knew every foot of ground on the homestead, trailed through the scrub toward the spring. Down an occasional opening he could see the distant forest that edged the mesa, and once he thought he saw a horse's head behind a bush, but it turned out to be the stub of a fallen tree. The brush hid the cabin as he worked toward the timber. Presently he discovered Blue Smoke's tracks and followed them down into a shallow hollow where the brush was thick. He wound in and out, keeping the tracks in sight and casually noting where the horse had stopped to graze. Near the bottom of the hollow he heard voices.

He had been so intent on tracking the horse that he had forgotten Gary and Cotton. The tracks led toward the voices. Pete instinctively paused and listened, then shrugged his shoulders and stepped forward.

A thick part.i.tion of brush separated him from the unseen speaker. Pete stopped midway in his stride.

"If you squat down here you can see the winder, right under this bush.

The moon was s.h.i.+nin'. It was a plumb easy shot. And it sure stopped homesteadin' in this end of the country."

Gary was speaking. Pete drew a step nearer.

"You ain't sayin' who fired that shot,"--and Cotton laughed obsequiously.

Pete stepped from behind the bush. Gary was facing toward the cabin.

Cotton was squatting near by smoking a cigarette.

"Tell him," said Pete. "I want to know myself."