Louis LAmour - The Rustlers of West Fork: Hopalong Cassidy Series

Contents

O pposite the saloon a man sat beside a saddled horse. As Hopalong stepped out, the man drew deep on his cigarette, and it glowed with sudden, sharp brightness. Cassidy noticed it with a wry curling at the corners of his mouth. a signal. Who did they think he was? A pilgrim? A soft-tailed tenderfoot? He stepped down beside his horse and tightened the saddle girth, watching the man out of the corners of his eyes.

There were only three places men might wait where that cigarette signal could be seen...

Chapter 1

SIX-GUN SALVAGE

H OPALONG CASSIDY WATCHED the old banker count the money with careful fingers. Fifteen thousand dollars was an amount to be handled with reverence and respect. As he watched the mounting stack of bills, Hopalong saw them less as the long green bills they were than as the cattle they representedthe cattle and the work. Into that stack of bills was going money that had grown from days of cold wind and rain, nights of thunder and lightning, of restless herds poised for stampede, of rivers and washes running brim full with roaring flood waters, of dust, blistering sun, and the roar of rustlers guns.

Into that pile so flat and green went more than money. Into that pile went months of brutal labor, the brindle steer that had killed a horse under him down in Lonetree Canyon, and the old mossyhorn who had fouled Lankys rope on a juniper, putting him three weeks in bed with a broken leg. And into that pile went the kid from Toyah, who had ridden up to join them so full of vitality and exuberance, only to have his horse step into a prairie-dog hole while running ahead of a stampede. They had buried what was left of the kid and sent his hat and gun to a brother in El Paso.

There she is, Hoppy, the banker said at last. Buck will be mighty glad to get shut of that debt, I know. Hes a man who takes bein in debt hardern any man I can think of, an hes sure scrimped an cut corners to have that much in three years!

Yeah, Cassidy agreed, Bucks right conscientious about most things. He dont like to get into debt in the first place, but you know how it was with Dick Jordan. When he fell heir to that ranch out West he sold his cattle an remuda to Buck, knowin if there was one man around he could trust to pay ever last red cent it was Buck.

Came at a good time too. Buck had been talkin about more cattle, an with the additional range he could use, it would be a positive shame not to have em. Otherwise, he never would have gone into debt.

You takin this money West yourself? The bankers shrewd old eyes studied the silver head. I know Buck cant afford to be away right now.

Yeah, Im takin it West, an glad of the chance. Old Dick was a friend of mine, too, an Ive heard a sight about that ranch o his. Rightly, it belonged to his wife. It was part of an old Spanish grant, you know.

Uh-huh. Helped draw up some o the papers. Got a daughter now, I hear.

Had her a long time. Shucks, she was fourteen or fifteen before they left here.

Saythe banker turned around in his chairwhos goin out there with you?

Im goin alone. Mesquites off somewheres, as usual, an Buck cant spare two men. Anyway, it aint a two-man job.

Maybe. Things out thataway are pretty lively. Had a letter from a friend of mine out to McClellan. Had his bank held up about three weeks ago, killed his cashier, wounded a deputy sheriff, then lost the durned posse.

Lost em?

Uh-huh, just plain lost em.

Hopalong slid off the desk and gathered up the money. Well, Buck will be waitin for me, so Id better get into the leather an ride to the ranch. But dont you worry about this money. Ill see it gets to Dick, as promised.

Tucking the packages of bills into his black shirt and drawing his belt tighter, he hitched his guns into an easier position on his dark-trousered hips and started for the door.

The banker arose from his chair and walked to the window where he could watch Cassidy cross the street. The same trim bowed legs, the broad, sloping shoulders, the lean waist and choppy walk of the horseman. His silver guns were worn by much handling, and his boots were cracked and dusty. Suddenly the banker found himself wishing he was younger and starting West with Hopalong on that ride.

As he started to turn from the window a movement caught his eye, and he hesitated. A man had stepped out from beside the bank and started slowly across the street in Hopalongs wake. If that man had been standing alongside the bank, he might have seen Hopalong take the money, for there was an office window near the desk. The banker frowned. His wife would be waiting supper, and if he got into the saloon he might not get out for hours.Anyway, Hopalong could take care of himself. He always had.

Trouble followed Hopalong Cassidy like wolves follow a snow-driven herd, but few men were more fitted to cope with it than the silver-haired gunfighter. He should have told Hoppy to ook up Monaghan, at the bank in McClellan. Well, he could write to him. Maybe Hoppy would have business over that way.

D USK WAS SOFTENING the line of the buildings when Hopalong crossed the street to the saloon. A poker game was in session when he pushed through the batwing doors, but the players carefully avoided his eyes. They knew each other, and knew the game was fairly even all around. But Hopalong was a specialist at draw. His brand of poker was apt to be expensive for them, and they wanted none of that.

Three men lounged at the bar, all strangers. One of them, Hoppy remembered, had passed him on the step. His casual glance read their brands with a quick, easy eye, and he grinned to himself. Drifting punchers, maybe a shade on the owl-hoot side.

Trail dust lay thick on their clothes, but their guns had been wiped clean, and the cartridges in their belts shone brightly. One manwho had passed him on the walk before the saloonwas a slender young fellow with straight, clean-cut features and a deep line at one corner of his mouth. When he glanced toward Cassidy, Hopalong saw that one eye was half closed by a lowered lid. At first the man seemed to be winking, and then Hoppy realized the affliction was permanent.

The other two also had the look of hard cases. The tall man was round-shouldered and his face carried deep-set lines of cruelty and harshness. The third stranger was scarcely more than a boy, but one already far gone down the hard trails by the look of him.

Drifters were not uncommon, and the range life was not one calculated to make men soft. Such men as these came in and drifted on each morning and night, for Twin Rivers was on a trail much traveled in these months.

Pullin out tomorrow, Hoppy? The bartender leaned his arms on the bar. Johnny was sayin you were headed West to visit Dick Jordan.

At the name all three strangers turned sharply to stare at Hopalong. Their expressions excited his interest and also their apparent familiarity with the name of Dick Jordan. Only a familiar name could have turned them so sharply. They looked away, and the man with the squint eye spoke to the others in a low, careful voice, as though explaining something.

Yeah, said Cassidy, we bought his herd three years ago. Buck wants me to ride out there, and that country always did appeal to me. It will be good to get shut of this dust and fill my lungs with that good mountain air again.

Dick bought hisself a good ranch, I hear.

He didnt buy it. His wife was Spanish an the ranch was part of an old land grant belonging to her family. She inherited it, so they just moved out there. They took their daughter with them. She was maybe fifteen years old. Nice kid, but all knees and freckles.