Shoot-out at Split Rock Read online

  This book made available by the Internet Archive.

  ^^7

  One

  Several days of wandering in tlie wflds—for he had avoided the regular trails—^brought the man from Four-ways to San Antonio, at that time the Mecca of the cattlemen, and the happy hunting ground of the gambler and desperado.

  Since his hurried departure from Fourways, Jim Green had not seen a human being, but had slept widi his saddle for a pillow, and Uved upon the game his gun had procured. His first thought now was for a square meal for himself and his mount These were soon fouiid, and leaving the animal in the Uvery stable, he set out to "take in the town."

  About to enter the Buckhom Saloon, that famous rendezvous, the Texan paused abruptly, his eye caught by a single word on a square of paper affixed to the walL

  **Sudden!'*

  The crudely printed bill offered a reward of five hundred dollars for the apprehension of one "Sudden," wanted for robbery and murder. A description was given: "Yoimg, dark hair and moustache, grey-blue eyes, dressed as a cowboy, wears two guns, and rides a black horse with a white blaze on face and white stockings on off foreleg." The notice bore the name of the sheriff of Fourways.

  For a moment the young man stared at it in blank amazement, and then, as the full significance came home, anger surged within him. Not only was he to be hounded down for a crime erf which he knew nothing, but he had been given a name which would foUow him wherever he went. He was outlawed; the hand of every man would be against him, and he was liable to be shot like a mad dog. Impulsively he raised a hand to tear away the placard.

  **I wouldn't," a warning voice said. "If yo're honin' for one as a souvenir, there's others in less prominent places; the town is fair spotted with 'em. And if yore boss tallies, that description would fit you pretty good," the stranger said.

  f

  Jim's jaw hardened. "If you had a black boss an* moustache you might quaUfy yore own self," he retorted.

  "But I don't have neither o' them things," the other grinned.

  "Both of 'em can be got rid of," Jim pointed out. "See here, I'll match a dollar with you to settle which of us takes the other in an' claims the cash."

  The stranger laughed outright. "Yo're a cool card," he said. "No sir, they might glom on to the pair of us. I got a better proposition. I know a fella who'd be glad to meet you."

  "If he's wearin' a star..."

  "He ain't, an' he's got no use for them as do," the unknown repUed. "Hook up with him an' you needn't let that—" he spat contemptuously at the notice—"scare you."

  "Did I mention I was scared?"

  The man nodded. "Ever hear o' Rogue's Riders?" he asked.

  Jim had. Under the leadership of a man named Roger, but more generally known as "Rogue," they were perhaps the most notorious of the bands of desperadoes who raided and robbed over a wide area of southwest Texas.

  "Much obliged, but I figure I can take care o' U'l Mister Me," the cowboy grinned.

  "Well, she's a free country. If you should find yoreself crowded, head west till you come to the Spht Rock—you can't mistake her—foller the left traU an' you'll be looked after. Sabe?''

  Jim nodded his thanks and turned away in the direction of the hvery stable. Though he had displayed indifference to the man who had warned him, he had no illusions regarding the danger of his position and knew that he must get away from San Antonio without delay. At any moment he might be linked up with that damning description. The gaze of the man he had left followed him for a moment, a sneer of chagrin on his sht of a mouth.

  "Can take care o' yoreself, huh? Well, that wouldn't surprise me," he muttered. "But when the deck is stacked, my friend ..." He lifted his shoulders. "Rogue wants you, an' a fella as won't be persuaded must be drove."

  Striding down the street, he pushed open the door of

  one of the smaller saloons and entered. Three men sitting at a battered table with empty glasses before them, and a Mexican lolling behind the bar, comprised the company. The newcomer called for a drink and remarked aloud, with seeming irrelevance:

  "Shore is a sorry sight."

  One of the trio at the table, a craggy-faced fellow with greedy little eyes, looked up hopefully. "You said it, friend," he grunted. "But when gents is down to bedrock ..."

  The stranger laughed. "Oh, that's soon remedied," he said, and signed to the bartender.

  While the glasses were being replenished he studied the thirsty ones with an appraising expression of disdain. He did not know them, but he knew their kind. Ruffians all, men who would slit a throat for a few dollars. Though they were drinking to him now, he was well aware that they would rob him if ever opportunity offered.

  "You got me wrong," he explained. "What I was re-ferrin' to was the sight o' five hundred wheels gettin' ready to ride outa this town, to say nothin' of a fine black hoss with a white blaze, an' a saddle the present owner shouldn't have much further use for."

  Craggy Face looked up. "You tellin' us that jasper Sudden is around?" he asked.

  "Just that," the other returned. "Saw him readin' the bill outside the Buckhom; he was mighty interested too, an' then he streaks for Juan's livery stable. What do you guess?"

  "If yo're shore, why didn't you hold him up an'—" Craggy Face began.

  "Collect the mazuma, huh?" the stranger finished. "Well, for one thing, he knows me, an' there's another reason to that why I can't take any part in the affair."

  He stressed the last six words and the hsteners smirked understandingly: he was wanted himself, this hombre, and the chance of gaining five hundred dollars would not affect the likely loss of his hberty. Craggy Face again was the spokesman:

  "Amounts to this; we take all the risk, an'..."

  "All the reward—I don't want none of it," he was told.

  "I disremember if that notice said 'dead or alive.'"

  "It did not, an' I'm bettin' that Fonrways fella ain't buyin' corpses."

  Craggy Face emptied his glass and stood up, the other two following suit. Their informant added a word:

  "I guess he'll take the western trail."

  The ruffians nodded and went out. The stranger waited to absorb another drink and then did likewise, keeping well behind. Presently he saw the man he had betrayed jog-trotting Ustlessly along the street, heading—as he had surmised—for the western exit from the town. Callous as he was, he could not but admire the young fellow's nerve.

  "He's the right stuff, shore as shootin'," he soliloquized. "Kind o' hombre Rogue can use. If them rats ain't weakened, they gotta do it here; hell be in the open soon."

  Save that his hat was slouched over his face, the wanted rider appeared to be indifferent to his danger. But beneath the brim, his keen eyes scanned each passerby, alert for the least sign of undue interest in himself, every sense taut and ready for action. He did not expect an ambush, but at any moment the markings of the animal he rode were likely to attract the attention of one who had read that accursed placard. So that he was not taken by surprise when three men, strolling aimlessly along the board sidewalk, abruptly swerved into the road in front of him, pulled their guns, and shouted:

  "Han's up, Sudden!"

  Jim did not hesitate—made no attempt to parley. The revelation of his identity—an astute move on the part of his attackers—^would bring them immediate aid. Dropping the reins—already knotted for just such an emergency— over the saddle-horn, his hands went up, but with a gun in each. As they rose he fired both weapons, once, and his opponents on the right and left went down. Then, with a pressure of his knees, Jim jumped the horse full at the man in the middle—Craggy Face. With an oath of dismay, the fellow saw the black thimderbolt hurling itself upon him and tried to leap aside. He nearly succeeded, but
the massive shoulder caught and drove him into the dust.

  The whole affair had occupied but a few seconds, and by the time the almost petrified pedestrians had realized the facts, the fugitive was two hundred yards away.

  For some miles Jim rode hard, without looking back. The posse was less than half a mile behind and the members of it were doubtless congratulating themselves upon an easy capture when they saw the black horse quicken its stride and begin to draw away. Spurring and quirting their mounts they decreased the gap again, several pulling out their rifles and firing in the hope of a lucky shot. The cowboy felt the wind of a bullet on his cheek, others zipped through the grass beneath the flying feet of his horse, and a cold fury flamed in him.

  "That's a game two can play at," he grated.

  Dropping the reins, he drew his rifle from the sheath under the fender, twisted round in the saddle and flung four shots at the bunched-up party of pursuers. Two of the ponies went down, throwing their riders heavily, a man reeled, clutched at the air, and pitched sideways to the ground. The posse, disorganized by this disaster, pulled up, and the quarry, with a wave of defiance, vanished over a fold in the surface of the plain. What damage he had done he did not know, and, in his present state of re-beUion against these repeated buffetings of fortune, he did not care. His own kind had made him an outlaw, had hunted and fired on him as though he were a dangerous animal. Well, he would accept the verdict.

  "Nothin' else for it. Thunder," he told his horse. "We gotta find Mister Rogue; he's our best bet."

  He halted at last before a great chunk of rock, with a curious V-shaped crack dividing it as from a giant axe blow. The main trail—wagon-rutted—here turned sharply to the north, but westward there were hoofprints leading down into what appeared to be a welter of canyons.

  "Split Rock," the traveler decided. "WeU, ol' boss, this is where we say goodbye to a law-abidin' life."

  With a mirthless, sardonic smile he sent his mount loping to the left, following the faint trail which plunged into the broken country. He came at length to the narrow mouth of a gorge, the rocky waUs of which almost met. Halfway up, on a ledge about thirty yards distant the rider's questing eye caught a flash of steel.

  "Stick 'em up, stranger; I got you covered," boomed a voice, and a man with a leveled rifle rose into view.

  Jim guessed this must be one of the bandits' sentinels.

  He had already decided on his own line of action, and though he halted, he did not obey the command to put up his hands. Instead he laughed satirically.

  "I've had you fixed for the last two minutes. You oughta get that gun barrel dulled some—I saw it away back. Got any ideas?"

  The other man was evidently non-plussed—he knew he had been outplayed. On the strength of his leveled gun he had shown himself, but now he could see the drawn Colt nudging its owner's hip, and somehow, the rider of the black horse did not seem to be a person to take chances with. He decided to talk. "What's yore errand here?"

  "Any reason why I should tell you?" queried the other. "On'y this," the man replied, tapping his rifle. Jim laughed, unpleasantly. "Shucks, you'd miss an' I wouldn't. Well, if it'll reUeve yore mind any, I'm lookin' for a fella called Rogue."

  "I take it yo're Sudden, then.'* . ■

  "An' you might be right at that," Jim smiled. "What about it?"

  "I've had word to pass you along," the guard admitted, "Go ahead. Sec you later—^mebbe."

  Jim sensed the sinister implication and laughed. Half a mile farther on he rounded a bend and saw that the perpendicular sides of the gorge closed in; apparently there was no outlet He had pulled up, and was studying the grey, weather-stained walls when a man stepped abruptly from behind a big boulder and directed him to the opening cleveriy concealed by an outflung buttress of rock. Before him lay a beautiful Mttie oval-shaped basin, the grass-covered floor of which sloped up on every side to an enclosing rampart of rock. In the center was a tiny circular lake. Cattie and horses were grazing near and on the far side of the valley were several log shacks.

  Jim walked his horse to a shack some twenty yards away, in the doorway of which a man was standing watching the proceedings without apparent interest "Well, you got here—Sudden," he said. The outiaw leader hesitated for a space, his hard grey eyes studying the boy before him.

  "I'm playin' straight with you, Sudden," he said, and the

  10

  husky voice had a harsh note in it. "If you hadn't been in Fourways when Judson w£is killed they'd have picked on me, an' I had Judson's money belt round my middle."

  Jim sat up. "You did it?" he cried, jolted out of his impassivity.

  "Yeah, but I didn't wanta kill the fool," Rogue said. "I got the drop on him an' I'm steppin' in to take his gun when he jumps his hoss at me. I try to wing him but he's movin' you see, an'..." He shrugged his shoulders.

  Jim was astonished that he should come face to face with the man who had committed the crime he was falsely accused of. "I was a plain fool to come into town but I figured him finished. I had to have the coin; things have been quiet lately an' the boys was gettin' restive."

  "What made you think I'd come here?" Jim asked.

  "I saw them bills an' knew they would close the towns to you," Rogue explained. "Reckoned you'd make for San Antonio an' sent one o' my men to watch for you. Didn't he .find you?"

  "Shore, but it wasn't him sent me," Jim said, and told of the attempted arrest and chase.

  If the outlaw smiled, it was behind his beard; he guessed the part his envoy had played. His comment contained more than a touch of admiration:

  "Three fellas, with their guns out, an' then you busted up the posse! You ain't losin' any time justifjdn' yore label, Sudden."

  "My name's Jim—rd rather you called me that."

  "Mine's Roger, but everybody calls me Rogue an' I dunno as I care. AUasame, Jim goes with me. Now, you'd better stick around awhile, yo're safe here. Now, there's another thing. Yore face wouldn't look no worse without hair on it. Don't wanta part with that bronc, I s'pose?"

  Jim's negative was emphatic, and the outiaw grimaced. Rogue rummaged on a shelf and produced a bottie. "This dye'U wipe out them markings. I'll show you yore quarters."

  He led the way to a little hut standmg rather apart from the others. The young man who emerged proved to be the second sentinel of the gorge and his face opened in a wide grin when he saw the newcomer.

  "This is Jim—^he's aimin' to stay with us a piece," Rogue introduced. "You can put him wise an' make him known to the boys."

  "Pleased to," Sandy said, shaking hands.

  The outlaw leader left them with a word that he would see them at supper.

  Ttco

  Rogue was absent from the breakfast table on the following morning, but there was a new arrival in the person of the man Sudden had seen in San Antonio. He grinned cheerfully at the cowboy and, when the meal was over, beckoned him outside.

  "So you changed yore mind?" he said.

  "You might call it that," was Jim's sardonic reply.

  "Well, you done right; San Antonio is shore a-bilin*. The sheriff ain't noways pleased. I'm tellin' you, better wipe that burg off yore list o' health resorts. Aimin' to throw in with Rogue?"

  Sudden did not reply at once. Despite the man's apparent friendliness, he did not like him; there was a lurking malignancy in his manner.

  "I ain't decided," he said, adding savagely, "What else is there for me to do?"

  "Come ridin', that's what."

  It was Sandy who had answered the question. Sligh—so the outiaw was called—shrugged disdainful shoulders.

  They went off laughing and the other man's eyes followed them sneeringly. "You got a lot to learn, the pair o' you; a hell of a lot," he muttered.

  They got their horses and separated, Sandy turning east to set free a man who was eagerly awaiting him, and Sudden heading in the opposite diection.

  The exit was easily found, a tunnel-like crack in the rim rock just wide enough to permit the pa
ssage of a mounted man. There was little hght, for the cliff overhead appeared to be unbroken and the far end of the opening was masked by a mass of dense scrub. The few tracks showed that this means of entering or leaving the valley was seldom used.

  Sandy had already told him that the nearest settlement on this side of the valley was some thirty miles distant, and that the only habitation of importance was the S-E ranch.

  "Got a big range, has Sam Eden," the boy had said. "They say he owns a lot o' the land too. Our village belongs to Him but up to now he ain't served no writ of ejectment."

  It was a wild bit of country into which Sudden emerged. Every now and then, a fierce-eyed steer would break from a thicket, glare at the rider, and crash back mto the brush. Some of these bore the S-E brand but more were unmarked.

  "Sandy was right," Sudden reflected. "Either Eden's outfit is damn careless or he ain't had a proper roundup in years. He can't holler if someone taJtes care o' them mavericks."

  As he was riding the rim of a shallow ravme, he heard a startled cry, followed by the beat of galloping hooves. It was a woman's voice and he judged it came from just ahead.

  Along the bottom of the ravine, and only a few hundred yards away, a girl was desperately spurring her pony. A short distance behind, two mounted Indians were racing to overtake her. Sudden pulled up, swung his horse round, headed it for the inclined wall of the guUy, and leaned back in the saddle. The long leaping stride of the black soon began to overhaul the poorer animals in front, but Sudden saw he had no time to waste, already the foremost Indian had grabbed the bridle of the girl's pony, and was endeavoring to drag her from the saddle.

  She was resisting, striking at the savage with the butt of her quirt, and fearing that the fellow would do her an injury he uttered a shout. Instantly the redskin whirled, dropped his lance, his right hand flashing to the quiver behind his shoulder, and Sudden felt a searing pain at the side of his neck. With incredible speed, the Indian notched a second arrow but ere he could despatch it the white man's revolver roared and the redskin pitched to the groimd. His companion, seeing what had happened, abandoned the girl, flogged his pony savagely up the steep bank of the ravine—which it climbed like a cat—and,