word had come to him of the break between the two at Gomer's office.
Dan Shute, riding a powerful gray, was in the van of the bunch of horsemen. He rode up to the stoop of Baker's store and reined in. Behind him were Red and Tom Blazer, Joe Gorman, Fritz Handl, "Fats" McCabe and others of the hard bunch that trailed with Shute.
"Gene," Shute said abruptly, resting his big hands on the pommel of the saddle, "don't sell any more supplies to Caradec or any of his crowd." He added harshly, "I'm not askin' you. I'm tellin' you. If you do, I'll put you out of business and run you out of the country. You know I don't make threats. The chances are Caradec won't be alive by daybreak anyway--but just in case, you've been told!"
Without giving Baker a chance to reply, Dan Shute touched spurs to his horse and led off down the south trail toward the Crazy Woman.
The door slammed behind Baker. "Where are they going?" Ann wanted to know. "What are they going to do?"
Gene stared after them bleakly. This was the end of something. "They are goin' after Caradec and his crowd, Ann."
"What will they do to him?"
Something inside her went sick and frightened. She had always been afraid of Dan Shute. The way he looked at her made her shrink. He was the only human being of whom she had ever been afraid. He seemed without feeling, without decency, without regard for anything but his own immediate desires.
"Kill him," Baker said "They'll kill him. Shute's a hard man, and that's a mighty wicked gang."
"But can't someone warn him?" Ann protested.
Baker glanced at her. "So far as we know, Caradec is a crook and mebbe a killer, Ann. You ain't gettin' soft on him, are you?"
"No!" she exclaimed, startled. "Of course not! What an idea! Why, I've scarcely talked to him!" Yet there was a heavy, sinking feeling in her heart as she watched the riders disappear in the dust along the southward trail. If there was only something she could do! If she could warn them!
Suddenly she remembered the bay horse her father had given her. Because of the Indians, she had not been riding in a long time, but if she took the mountain trail...
Hurrying through the door she swiftly saddled the bay. There was no thought in her mind. She was acting strictly on impulse, prompted by some memory of the way the hair swept back from Rafe's brow, and the look in his eyes when he met her gaze. She told herself she wanted to see no man killed, that Bo Marsh and Johnny Gill were her friends. Yet even in her heart she knew the excuse would not do. She was thinking of Rafe, and only of Rafe.
The bay was in fine shape and impatient after his long restraint in the corral. He started for the trail, eagerly, and his ears pricked up at every sound. The leaves had turned to red and gold now and the air held a hint of frost. Winter was coming. Soon the country would be blanketed, inches deep, under a thick covering of snow.
Hastily Ann's mind leaped ahead. The prairie trail, which the Shute riders had taken, swept wide into the valley, then crossed the Crazy Woman and turned to follow the stream up the canyon. By cutting across over the mountain trail there was every chance she could beat them to the ranch. In any case, her lead would be slight due to the start the bunch had.
The trail crossed the mountainside through a long grove of quaking aspens, their leaves shimmering in the cool wind, dark green above, gray below. Now, with oncoming autumn most of the leaves had turned to bright yellow intermixed with crimson. Here and there among the forest of mounting color were the darker arrowheads of spruce and lodgepole pine.
Once, coming out in a small clearing, she got a view of the valley below. She had gained a little, but only a little. Frightened, she touched spurs to the bay and the little horse leaped ahead and swept down through the woods at a rapid gallop.
Ahead, there was a ledge. It was a good six miles off yet, but from there she could see the canyon of the Crazy Woman and the
Dan Shute, riding a powerful gray, was in the van of the bunch of horsemen. He rode up to the stoop of Baker's store and reined in. Behind him were Red and Tom Blazer, Joe Gorman, Fritz Handl, "Fats" McCabe and others of the hard bunch that trailed with Shute.
"Gene," Shute said abruptly, resting his big hands on the pommel of the saddle, "don't sell any more supplies to Caradec or any of his crowd." He added harshly, "I'm not askin' you. I'm tellin' you. If you do, I'll put you out of business and run you out of the country. You know I don't make threats. The chances are Caradec won't be alive by daybreak anyway--but just in case, you've been told!"
Without giving Baker a chance to reply, Dan Shute touched spurs to his horse and led off down the south trail toward the Crazy Woman.
The door slammed behind Baker. "Where are they going?" Ann wanted to know. "What are they going to do?"
Gene stared after them bleakly. This was the end of something. "They are goin' after Caradec and his crowd, Ann."
"What will they do to him?"
Something inside her went sick and frightened. She had always been afraid of Dan Shute. The way he looked at her made her shrink. He was the only human being of whom she had ever been afraid. He seemed without feeling, without decency, without regard for anything but his own immediate desires.
"Kill him," Baker said "They'll kill him. Shute's a hard man, and that's a mighty wicked gang."
"But can't someone warn him?" Ann protested.
Baker glanced at her. "So far as we know, Caradec is a crook and mebbe a killer, Ann. You ain't gettin' soft on him, are you?"
"No!" she exclaimed, startled. "Of course not! What an idea! Why, I've scarcely talked to him!" Yet there was a heavy, sinking feeling in her heart as she watched the riders disappear in the dust along the southward trail. If there was only something she could do! If she could warn them!
Suddenly she remembered the bay horse her father had given her. Because of the Indians, she had not been riding in a long time, but if she took the mountain trail...
Hurrying through the door she swiftly saddled the bay. There was no thought in her mind. She was acting strictly on impulse, prompted by some memory of the way the hair swept back from Rafe's brow, and the look in his eyes when he met her gaze. She told herself she wanted to see no man killed, that Bo Marsh and Johnny Gill were her friends. Yet even in her heart she knew the excuse would not do. She was thinking of Rafe, and only of Rafe.
The bay was in fine shape and impatient after his long restraint in the corral. He started for the trail, eagerly, and his ears pricked up at every sound. The leaves had turned to red and gold now and the air held a hint of frost. Winter was coming. Soon the country would be blanketed, inches deep, under a thick covering of snow.
Hastily Ann's mind leaped ahead. The prairie trail, which the Shute riders had taken, swept wide into the valley, then crossed the Crazy Woman and turned to follow the stream up the canyon. By cutting across over the mountain trail there was every chance she could beat them to the ranch. In any case, her lead would be slight due to the start the bunch had.
The trail crossed the mountainside through a long grove of quaking aspens, their leaves shimmering in the cool wind, dark green above, gray below. Now, with oncoming autumn most of the leaves had turned to bright yellow intermixed with crimson. Here and there among the forest of mounting color were the darker arrowheads of spruce and lodgepole pine.
Once, coming out in a small clearing, she got a view of the valley below. She had gained a little, but only a little. Frightened, she touched spurs to the bay and the little horse leaped ahead and swept down through the woods at a rapid gallop.
Ahead, there was a ledge. It was a good six miles off yet, but from there she could see the canyon of the Crazy Woman and the
Similar Books
