It was Pop Dwight down there in the defile.
He located Tex quickly enough and his hands went up, but slowly – and Pop didn’t seem unduly worried.
‘Hiya, Mister Scarron,’ he called back. ‘Guess you’ve pulled a fast one, but don’t go gettin’ trigger-happy, I ain’t gunnin’ for you.’
Tex wasn’t arguing about that, wasn’t yet ready to talk about why Pop had been on his trail.
‘Pull out your guns and unload,’ he called. ‘An’ don’t try anythin’ on.’
Pop didn’t try anything on. He brought out his guns one after the other and unloaded them. When this was done Tex came down from the cliff. Pop’s blue eyes surveyed him quietly. There was a small smile at his lips.
‘What next, mister? You’re bein’ mighty particular.’
‘That’s right, I nearly handed in my checks tonight, remember? I ain’t takin’ no chances. Get off your horse.’
Pop Dwight climbed out of the saddle. He still didn’t seem to be worried.
‘Sure, I remember, I was there,’ he said. ‘I don’t hold with lynchin’ myself, but there wasn’t a lot I could do, not against that bunch. I was glad when you made a break for it. How did you make it? Maybe you had some pals around the place?’
Tex wasn’t answering these questions. The way he looked at it he was the guy who should be asking, Pop doing the answering. By now he was sure that nobody else was on the trail. They were alone up here among the foothills.
‘What were you trailin’ me for?’ he asked. ‘Reckon I don’t go big for the tale you weren’t gunnin’ for me … you’re the girl’s buddy, ain’t you?’
Pop’s eyes, pretty shrewd eyes, Tex judged, sharpened. Tex was making sure of covering him but the guy didn’t seem to be worrying about that. Tex might not have had a rod in his hand for all the notice Pop took of it.
‘Sure … if you’re talkin’ about Linda.’ And then, ‘But I don’t get why that makes you work out I was gunnin’ for you.’
Tex twisted his lips.
‘You don’t? She got me into that trouble,’ jerking his head towards the trail and the now distant Lone Point. ‘Sure, she handed that out, deliberate,’ he added.
Pop Dwight said nothing. Tex spoke again – he hadn’t all night to spend fencing with words. His gun came up suggestively.
‘Talk,’ he rasped. ‘You were trailin’ me – what for?’
‘OK, mister. I didn’t see you make your break, but when the guys down there were beginnin’ to work it out they were shootin’ at nothin’ I kinda moved around and then I picked up your trail. I followed along aimin’ to get alongside and have a talk. It’s like this, I once heard tell of a guy called Scarron who hung out in these parts when he was a boy. I heard this guy was pretty tough and had busted up a few rackets in his time … one in Colorado for instance, when he got Indian Bill an’ put him away. When I heard you were called Scarron I reckoned you were the same guy.’
Tex stared at Pop. The newssheet owner had got his facts right so far as he’d gone. Tex had broken up quite a few rackets in his time, hiring himself out as a sort of private law enforcement officer. Two years back in Colorado he’d got the notorious Indian Bill, the gold bandit.
‘OK, so I’m Scarron,’ he said. ‘What about it?’
Pop scratched his chin reflectively.
‘I guess I worked out that bein’ the guy who got Indian Bill you weren’t a sharper,’ he said after a pause. ‘I worked out maybe the Parson’s boys had been stackin’ the deck, not you … or it could be you pulled a fast one on ’em knowin’ they were crooks.’
He was still watching Tex closely and nodded to himself when he’d said his last piece.
‘Sure, you’d lifted a packet off Spike, an’ I guess nobody does that without pullin’ a fast one. But it don’t signify … knowin’ who you were I worked out you were down in these parts maybe for a pretty good reason. Sam Steel was livin’ here when you were a boy, they tell me, and Sam is in with Dave Brand at the Bar X these days.’
Tex was thinking fast. As had often happened in the past he’d got to use his experience and judgment of men. His instinct right now was to believe that Pop Dwight was on the level.
‘What reason would I have for comin’ here?’ he asked.
The answer came without hesitation.
‘The Parson’s racket … that’d be good enough reason for a guy like you. You wouldn’t have heard anythin’ about what goes on in these parts, would you? Maybe from Sam at the Bar X? Yep, I reckon that’s it, I reckoned so from the start … that’d explain why the Parson was mighty glad to have you run out o’ town. I was aimin’ to have a talk with you ’bout the Parson, that’s why I followed along. You can put up your gun, mister, I ain’t playin’ in with the Parson, you can take that as hard.’
The two men stared at each other in silence, then Tex Scarron slowly put up his gun. He was willing to back his hunch that this guy was on the level – leastways until he had evidence that he wasn’t. If he’d come gunning for him it didn’t make sense that he’d have come alone, not a middle-aged guy like this well past his prime; and certainly not if he knew something about Tex Scarron’s career, which undoubtedly he did.
‘OK, we’ll talk friendly,’ he grunted. ‘Maybe you’ve got somethin’, maybe the Parson had a hunch why I’d come and wanted me run out o’ town. But that don’t explain why the girl wanted to get shot o’ me. What you know about that?’
Pop Dwight shrugged his shoulders. There wasn’t any accounting for women, he said. Linda was all right, he liked her. He reckoned she’d acted the way she thought was right, not knowing what Pop himself knew about Tex Scarron.
‘But my guess is she didn’t bank on any lynchin’ nor on fake lynchin’ they handed out,’ he added. ‘She don’t come into this,’ he continued, ‘I reckon she don’t know rightly what’s goin’ on, she’s only been here a year. I reckon I can take it as hard you’re here after Parson?’
Tex had been thinking how much he ought to reveal and now had come to a decision. As he saw it there wasn’t much point in trying to bluff either Pop or the Parson and his set-up. Like Pop he thought probably the Parson had wanted him run out of town because he’d worked it out he was dangerous. When it was known that he was still in the district Dean would suspect even more strongly why he was staying in these parts. If Pop Dwight was bluffing and took word back to the Parson, or if he was indiscreet and opened his mouth too wide it wouldn’t make a lot of difference. And anyway it might be an idea to let the Parson know the truth. That might push him into some unplanned and hurried move, with advantage to Tex. That had happened before. Coming out into the open often paid dividends.
And apart from any of this there was Tex’s hunch that Pop was on the level. In that case he could be useful. More useful if he was let in on the facts.
‘Sure, I’m here after the Parson,’ replied Tex slowly. There were several points he wanted to discuss, including Linda Forbes and her activities, but they could wait for a bit. First things must come first. ‘Yep, I’m after the Parson … I got word about his mutual protection racket. Seems like he’s milkin’ the territory. Dave ain’t standin’ up to it so well – he’s my uncle, I got a family interest in this.’
Pop Dwight nodded. Then he spoke.
‘It’s ’bout time somebody busted this racket. I guess I’ve been thinkin’ that for some time, but I ain’t got what it takes any longer, I’m gettin’ old, son. I ain’t sayin’ I’m proud o’ what I’ve done, payin’ out to the Parson every month because I was scared that otherwise he’d set his boys on to the Gazette, but there wasn’t much I could do on my own.’
‘Ain’t there any other guys with guts?’ asked Tex.
Pop Dwight shrugged his shoulders, but before he could reply there came an interruption. The silence of the night was shattered abruptly by the sound of a shot fired somewhere to the west, ’way in the distance. It was followed by another … and then there was silence.
Tex jerked round, listening. He estimated that the shots had come from at least a mile away, maybe more, for there was a wind from the west which would carry the sound quite a way. It seemed that he and Pop weren’t the only guys up here among the outcrops. Events had sure moved fast since Tex had first set foot on Grant’s River territory, and they were still moving.
His hand went to his gun-belt and came away with cartridges, which he thrust at Pop.
‘Get your rods loaded,’ he snapped. ‘I reckon we’ll get movin’ – that way,’ jerking his head towards the west. ‘You reckon the Parson’s boys might have come this way?’
‘Maybe … not the mob, I should say they’ve got themselves back to the River by now, they ain’t got guts enough to make a night of it lookin’ for you, but it could be some o’ the Parson’s boys are hereabouts. Or maybe it’s your buddies,’ he added.
Tex didn’t reply. The same thought had come to him that perhaps the Kid and the other guy who had helped him, supposing that there hadn’t been more than one, were loosing off at something – or someone. But he wasn’t talking. So far Pop Dwight didn’t know who had helped him out of the jam at Lone Point. There was no time now to explain.
Tex made for his tethered pony and swung into the saddle. A few moments later he and Pop were riding hard along the defile making for the west. As they came to the end of the gorge another shot cracked out, enabling Tex to fix the direction more accurately.
Stretching away from the end of the defile was a wide sweep of broken ground unsuitable for grazing beeves, for here the hills were very close at hand, flinging up outcrops until the cow country farther south was reached. The moon was sinking pretty fast but it still provided some light; and in Arizona in summer the night was never very dark.
There was a view of the barren land stretching away to the west, broken ground scattered with massive boulders and with outcrops of the hills jutting up in grotesque formations. Tracks, most of them natural, left by water which in winter gushed down from the hills, wound between the outcrops. Far away in the distance there were more hills, higher than the Black Hills, for the range swept round in a giant semi-circle, enclosing some twenty square miles of barren ground, which farther south, well before the river was reached, became good grazing country.
The waning moon glimmered on the dark hills ’way ahead, and on the outcrops nearer at hand; but the light was dim, deceptive, the area full of shadows. Tex reined in, realizing that without another lead it was an impossible task to hunt down whoever was indulging in gunplay. Maybe the gunplay didn’t link up with the job that had brought him to the territory, maybe it didn’t have any connection with the swiftly-moving events of the past hours, but Tex wanted to know about that for certain. Whichever way he looked at it this district of Grant’s River didn’t seem to be lacking in action.
He needed another lead right now, for though the last shot had given him the direction it hadn’t pin-pointed the exact position. The hombres might be pretty well anywhere among the outcrops.
Pop Dwight pulled up alongside Tex. He could tell him something about this particular area, something Tex had forgotten. There was a minor trail which branched off the main trail south of the settlement, beyond the river. It doubled back, crossed the river at a ford and struck through the waste land, through a second pass in the Black Hills and so eventually rejoined the main trail not far from Indian Creek. Whoever was shooting might have come from Indian Creek, using the minor trail, or more likely had come from Grant’s River. It could be that word had reached the Parson that the mob had struck unexpected trouble at Lone Point and he’d sent some of his boys by the minor, shorter trail to try and catch up with Tex – and those who had rescued him.
‘Maybe,’ grunted Tex. ‘Keep your eyes skinned, Pop.’
There was no need, for when the next shot sounded, a matter of seconds after Tex had given his instruction, the stab of flame flashed out clearly about half a mile ahead. It was answered from a point to the north, nearer to the hills.
Tex had got what he needed now. There were either two guys shooting it out, one under cover behind an outcrop to the north of the narrow track which was a continuation of that which passed through the defile, the other south behind a cluster of rocks; or there were more than two. But at all events there was a gun battle being fought. Tex reckoned he’d got to find out what was going on and why.
There was more cover to the south than to the north. Tex decided to make in that direction, working round behind the rocks to get a sight of whoever was lying up there. It wouldn’t be easy and there was always the possibility that Pop Dwight wasn’t on the level. In that case he might grab an opportunity to pull a fast one while the reconnaissance was proceeding. But Tex had to take that chance. He couldn’t do anything but have Pop along with him. To send him north or leave him by the defile would provide him with an even better opportunity to try something on – if he felt that way. Tex had got to trust him up to a point, reckoned that he could, but he wasn’t going to trust him more than he had to. He wasn’t leaving him on his own. Taking everything into consideration he was willing to back his judgment of the man but not too far.
‘OK Pop, we’ll get around behind that cover,’ he said, pointing south. ‘Leave your beast here.’
They dismounted and then taking advantage of all the cover they could find, began to move south-west, leaving the rocks where the unknown had chosen to hide up well to their right. There wasn’t much difficulty at first, especially when a couple of shots sounded from the north, for these held the attention of whoever lay behind the rocks. Tex reckoned there wouldn’t be much to spare for suspecting movement in the rear.
Tex made sure he kept Pop Dwight close to him and at least half a pace in front. And he wasn’t aiming to get too near the hideout, not yet. Behind, to the south, there was a rise in the ground, some hundred yards behind the rocks. If he could reach that crest, maybe he could get a sight of the unknown guy or guys. After that he could work out what to do next.
They reached the ridge easily enough, crossing it three hundred yards from the cluster of rocks and thereafter being concealed by it. They moved along its other side and then turned up it. They came to the crest and could see movement behind the rocks which were now dead ahead of them.
It was a vague movement, but there were a couple of guys down there crouched under cover from the front but not from where Tex and Pop were stationed. That was as much as Tex could see.
‘Guess we got to get nearer,’ muttered Pop in his ear. ‘Reckon we can make it.’
It looked like it, for thirty yards down the slope were other rocks offering concealment. Pop Dwight could move silently enough, as Tex by now knew. He’d have preferred to move down the slope alone, leaving Pop on the ridge, but he didn’t fancy having anyone but a proved buddy in his rear with a gun. He’d got to get nearer to the hideout. He wanted to know who was gunning down there; and in any case even if he dispensed with this project and decided to break up the shooting straight away, in this light the range was too long from the crest for effective action.
‘OK, get down to the rocks,’ replied Tex, ‘and don’t go makin’ a noise.’
They made down the slope, Pop in front. Tex noted, as he’d done already, that the guy knew how to move. He wasn’t as young as he had been, he’d been right in what he’d said about that, but he wasn’t past it yet. And judging by the way he handled his gun he knew how to use it.
Maybe he reckoned he wasn’t up to taking a stand against the Parson, but it could be he’d pulled a fast one over that. The thought came to Tex as he watched him move down the slope. It wasn’t that Tex yet doubted his judgment that Pop was on the level, he still reckoned he was. But one small portion of his mind told him that the possibility that he wasn’t must be kept in view.
Tex followed after and came to the good cover of the rock. Now a better view could be had of the two guys at the bottom of the slope. One of them half turned his head and then Tex knew who it was. The hombre was masked; and he was dressed in black. This was the Kid again, arrived here by some other route.
Pop saw the mask at the same instant. He let fall an exclamation and brought up his gun. The Kid was a sitting target, unaware that he was menaced from the rear.
As Pop brought up his gun Tex grabbed his wrist. The Kid was a bandit all right, no doubt about that, he’d provided plenty of proof, but he’d got Tex out of a bad jam. Tex wasn’t having the guy bumped off, not in cold blood from the rear.
He grabbed Pop’s wrist and the gun went off simultaneously. The bullet did no damage but ricocheted off the ground a few yards in front of Pop as the Colt was jerked down. It did no damage but the shot was enough to warn the Kid and his companion. They swung round, there were a couple of rapid shots, with Tex and Pop ducking back under cover, and then the guys were under cover themselves, round behind the end of the line of rocks they were using.
‘Heck,’ muttered Pop Dwight, ‘what you reckon…?’
He broke off as there came the noise of hoofs on loose stones. The Kid and his buddy must have had their beasts tethered out of sight behind the rocks. Now they were away.
Pop got to his feet, his gun up again. He loosed off a couple of shots but it was no good. The Kid was away and with him the other, mere vague shadows in the waning light, striking west.
There was no possibility of pursuing, for Tex and Pop had left their ponies ’way back near the end of the defile. Pop swung round on Tex.
‘Hey, what’s the idea? What you want to go interferin’ for? I had that bird taped … it was the Kid.’ He broke off as a thought came to him. ‘Sure, you knew that, I guess. Maybe I’ve made a mistake, Scarron, maybe you ain’t on the level … are you workin’ in with the Kid?’
‘You got it all wrong, Pop. I ain’t in with the Kid, but he was the guy who loosed me up at Lone Point and I reckoned I owed him somethin’ for that. But the score’s even now. I won’t be stallin’ any more with the Kid.’
Pop Dwight stared at Tex. Then gradually he relaxed.
‘OK, Scarron I’ll take your word for it,’ he muttered. ‘It looked kinda funny, but … aw, skip it. Guess we’d better get back to the track.’
They scrammed for the ponies. There was at least one other guy, and maybe more, hiding up to the north, within range, but the Kid and his buddy must have been seen high-tailing and it was unlikely that whoever had been gunning was still around. In any event Tex would feel happier mounted.
They reached the tethered ponies and remounted. Hardly had they done so when Pop grabbed Tex by the arm.
‘Somebody comin’,’ he grunted.
Within seconds a mounted figure came vaguely into sight, riding from north to south, crossing the track which Tex and Pop had now rejoined. Whoever it was, and to Tex it was only an unidentifiable figure, crossed the track about halfway between the end of the defile and the hideout where the Kid had been lying up. The figure passed swiftly from view, aiming due south towards the distant settlement.
‘Doc Black,’ muttered Pop, ‘I guess you can’t miss the way he rides, got caught up in mill rollers ’way back and that crippled his shoulder.’
As he spoke he jerked at the reins of his pony, aiming to go after the solitary rider, but he didn’t get any farther. A voice spoke from behind.
‘Get your hands up an’ make it quick.’
Then, as Tex and Pop swung round, to find themselves covered by a guy who on foot had slid out from behind cover, there came a vivid oath and the menacing gun was lowered.
It was Sam Steel who had pulled a fast one on Tex, Sam Steel who now gazed at him like he was seeing a ghost.