Sudden--Troubleshooter (A Sudden Western) #5 by Frederick H. Christian Page B

nodded, regret in his
expression. ‘I’m sorry,’ he told the old rancher. ‘I was told yu
might be a man who’d lissen to reason, but yo’re so bull-headed I
doubt if yu’d know good sense if it jumped up an’ bit yu. No’ – he
held up a hand – ’don’t get all riled up again. We’re ridin’. Afore
we go, Gunnison, ponder a mite on this: if our bushwhackin’ friend
didn’t come back to the Saber, where’d he go?’
    Wheeling his horse, the
puncher spurred the big stallion out of the yard, followed closely
by his young partner, leaving the old man frowning furiously. Dancy
sidled over eagerly. ‘Yu want me to get a couple o’ the boys an’
follow ’em, boss?’ He leered. ‘Teach ’em some manners for next time
they come a-callin’, mebbe?’
    Gunnison turned on the big
foreman with rage on his face. ‘I just told them men we don’t war
on women,’ he thundered. ‘We don’t send a gang o’ men out to set on
two, neither. When we make war, we’ll do it in the open. Until I
give yu any hints otherwise, yu play it that way, hear
me?’
    A snarl of anger crossed
Dancy’s face, but he replaced it with a servile sneer. ‘Yo’re the
boss,’ he told the rancher.
    ‘Don’t yu forget it none,
either,’ was the retort as the old man stamped into the ranch
house. Dancy spat in the dirt and returned to his work, throwing a
glance of hatred in the direction of the retreating back of his
employer.
    When they were out of sight of the ranch
Green reined in; his companion pulled up alongside, puzzlement on
his face.
    ‘What’s up, Jim?’ he wanted
to know.
    ‘We didn’t find out what
happened to our bush-whackin’ amigo,’ Green informed him coolly. ‘I
reckon I’ll just mosey back an’ do a mite o’ checkin.’
    Philadelphia regarded his friend as if he
had just announced his imminent departure for the moon.
    ‘Jim – are yu loco? They
catch yu an’ they’ll skin yu alive an’ feed yu to the
buzzards.’
    Green grinned. ‘I ain’t
aimin’ to be caught.’
    ‘Then I’m comin’ with yu,’
announced Philadelphia resolutely.
    ‘Oh, no, yu ain’t,’ Green
replied with a smile. ‘Yu may be learnin’ fast with that
six-shooter, but I ain’t had time to teach yu how to “Injun”
without bein’ spotted. Yu stay here with the horses. When I arrive,
we’ll be wantin’ to leave fairly pronto. Yu be ready.’
    He pointed out a clump of
rocks off to the left of the trail where Philadelphia could hide
with the horses until his return. Then, slipping off his
high-heeled boots and socks, he padded away in the direction of the
ranch, leaving the unwilling Philadelphia behind. The boy watched
Green’s lithe, almost effortless gait as he moved across the
prairie for a short while. He turned to tether the horses, and then
looked again. There was no sign of Green. The cowboy had
disappeared as completely as if the earth had swallowed
him.
    When he was within two
hundred yards or so of the ranch once more, Green ducked behind a
clump of brush and surveyed the area below. Off to the right of the
big house as he faced it was a long, low building in which there
were several tar-paper windows; a faint plume of smoke arose from
the chimney. ‘Bunkhouse,’ he told himself, moving his gaze across
the yard to another, slightly higher building. ‘That’ll be the
stables,’ he said to himself, and his keen eyes swept over the
terrain between himself and his objective. A narrow gully seemed to
offer the best means of approaching the stables unseen, and
crouching low, moving as fast as he could, Green drew to within
about twenty yards of the building. He could hear voices quite
plainly within the stables; one of them was Dancy’s.
    ‘Rub him down, feed him,
an’ put him in the corral,’ the Saber man
was telling someone. ‘An’ Jack Mado’s geldin’, too.’
    ‘Okay, Jim,’ said the man
to whom Dancy was speaking. In a moment the foreman came out of the
stable, hitched at his gun belt,