“You figure your ride out to Carbide Junction was worthwhile?” Buck Theodore asked.
“I’ll let you be the judge of that, Buck,” Lee Cone answered.
They were gathered in the old line camp cabin on Laurel Creek—Lee, Buck, and Jack Dhu.
Jack, on directions from Lee, had ridden out to the place, introduced himself to Buck, explaining that he was to wait there with Buck until Lee got back from Carbide Junction. During the few days’ interim, Jack and Buck had become well acquainted, knowing respect and liking for each other.
Jack Dhu had been a lone wolf most of his life, drifting from one job to another across a wide spread of country. It had been a hard life, many times holding to only a whisker’s width inside the law. The loneliness had made him hard-shelled and aloof, and for years he had counted the gun at his hip his only real friend.
But now, in Lee Cone and Buck Theodore, Jack Dhu had found two men he liked and trusted. Here, in this little cabin, he knew a strange contentment he’d never hoped to find. He grinned at Lee.
“Go ahead and tell him, Lee. He’s been itchy as an old pack rat.”
“Well,” Lee began to explain, “I got a look at some cattle shipping invoices at Carbide Junction. I didn’t go through all that were there, but I looked over enough to serve my purpose. Buck, you told me you didn’t know where the cattle Tasker Scott rustled went to. I’ll tell you. They went out through Carbide Junction. Flat T cattle, vented to Lazy Dollar. And …”
“What’s that?” yelped Buck. “Flat T vented to Lazy Dollar! Why, I never sold a head of stock to Tasker Scott. Not a single damned head!”
“Of course you didn’t,” Lee said quietly, attempting to soothe Buck’s rising temper. “Those vented brands were rustled stuff. There’s no way you could blot a Flat T to Lazy Dollar and make it fool any inspector. So Scott just played it bold as brass. He vented, just like he’d bought the stuff on a regular, square deal. And here’s the snapper on the whip. He had gall enough to sign his own name to the shipping invoices.”
Jack Dhu whistled softly. “That man is either crazy, or figures he’s too big to be touched.”
“The last,” Lee agreed, nodding. “He figured he had Buck licked, and he never expected me to show up again in Maacama Basin. He was wrong in both cases. And to top it all off, he hasn’t got a bill of sale for any Flat T cattle to back his hand.”
“Not only crazy,” murmured Jack Dhu. “But a plain damned fool.”
“No,” Buck Theodore said slowly. “Not altogether, Jack. Call him slick and a gambler. And I was licked, just too tired and discouraged to care anymore. And Lee was gone, maybe dead, for all anybody here knew. Call it a gamble, and not as long as some that have got by. And also, he figured he was too big and had too much influence to be hit. Maybe he’s right, there. What do you aim to do about it, Lee?”
“Choke him on the whole business,” rapped Lee. “Here’s something else.” He went on to tell about the word of the railroad spur coming in through Smoky Pass. And he also told of the attempt to run the Vail family off their land.
“I promised John Vail our help,” he ended. He studied the faces of Buck and Jack, before adding: “And we got to make that promise good. Buck, you and Jack roll up some blankets for yourselves and spend the night along the river near the Vails. If those two buckos, Stump and Pecos, show up acting nasty and threatening, you know what to do.”
“Now that,” said Buck with alacrity, “is something that sure appeals to me. Them two jiggers been holding down at the old home ranch like they owned it. I’ll enjoy a chance to set ’em back on their heels. But where you aiming to be, boy, while the fun is going on?”
“I’ll be around,” Lee assured him. “But I got some things to do first. Starting with a shave. How’s for a loan of your razor, Buck?”