The Collected Short Stories of Louis L'Amour, Volume 2 by Louis L’Amour Page B

believe in fightin’.”
    Langer chuckled, but Slagle said nothing, and Dirksen glanced at him sympathetically.
    All day the herd moved steadily west, but now Gary noticed a change, for the others were growing more watchful as the day progressed. Their eyes continued to search the surrounding hills, and they rode more warily approaching any bit of cover.
    Once, when Jeeter rode near him, the little man glanced across the herd at the other riders and then said quietly, “That was no ghost you saw. Red rode up there on the hill, an’ there was tracks, tracks of a mighty big black horse.”
    â€œWonder why he didn’t ride down to camp?” Jim speculated. “He sure enough saw the fire!”
    Dirksen grunted. “If that hombre was the one Red thinks it is, he sure didn’t have no aim to ride down there!”
    Before Gary could question him further, Jeeter rode off after a stray and cutting him back into the herd, rode on further ahead. Jim dropped back to the drag, puzzling over this new angle. Who could the strange rider be? What did he want? Was he afraid of Slagle?
    A big brindle steer was cutting wide of the herd, and Jim swung out to get him, but dashing toward the stream, the steer floundered into the water and into quicksand. Almost at once, it was down, struggling madly, its eyes rolling.
    Jim swung a loop and dropped it over the steer’s horns. If he could give the steer a little help now, there was a chance he could get it out before it bogged in too deep.
    He started the buckskin back toward more solid ground and with the pull on the rope and the struggling of the steer, he soon had it out on the bank of the stream. The weary animal stumbled and went down, and shaking his loop loose, Gary swung his horse around to get the animal up. Something he saw on the flank made him swing down beside the steer. Curiously, he bent over the brand.
    It had been worked over! The Double A had been burned on over a Slash Four!
    â€œSomethin’ wrong?”
    The voice was cold and level, and Jim Gary started guiltily, turning. Then his eyes widened. “Mart! Well, for cryin’ out in the nighttime! Am I glad to see
you
!”
    Ray stared. “For the luvva Pete, if it ain’t Gary! Say, how did you get here? Don’t tell me you’re drivin’ that herd up ahead?”
    â€œThat’s right! Your outfit, ain’t it? I hired on back down the line. This steer just got hisself bogged down an’ I had a heck of a time gettin’ him out. You seen Red an’ the boys?”
    â€œNot yet, I swung wide. Get that steer on his feet an’ we’ll join ’em.”
    Yet as they rode back, despite Ray’s affability, Gary was disturbed. Something here was very wrong. This was a Slash Four steer with the brand worked over to a Double A, the brand for which Ray was foreman. If these cattle were rustled, then Mart Ray was party to it, and so were Slagle, Langer, and Dirksen! And if he was caught with these men and cattle, so was he!
    He replied to Ray’s questions as well as he could, and briefly, aware that his friend was preoccupied and thinking of something else. Yet at the same time he was pleased that Ray asked him no questions about his reasons for leaving home.
    Mart Ray rode up ahead and joined Slagle, and he could see the two men riding on together, deep in conversation. When they bedded down for the night, there had been no further chance to talk to him, and Gary was just as well satisfied, for there was much about this that he did not like. Nor was anything said about the midnight rider. When day broke, Mart Ray was gone. “Rode on to Salt Creek,” Red said. “We’ll see him there.” He glanced at Jim, his eyes amused. “He said to keep you on, that you was a top hand.”
    Despite the compliment, Jim was nettled. What else had Ray told Slagle? His eyes narrowed. Whatever it was, he was not staying on. He was going to