CHAPTER V
THE WOLF SHOWS HIMSELF
On the following day, about eleven o’clock, a great shout went up from the crowd before the courthouse. The jury had brought in a verdict of first-degree murder against Pete Cable.
On Thursday night, after dinner, Tim Lynch, the Hogg brothers, and the sheriff met in the judge’s house. They had been there but a short time when Ace Cutts, followed by Anderson, strolled into the room. The sheriff frowned when he saw them, but he realized that it would be better to keep them here now than to allow them to go away. They must suspect something about the gathering.
“Dad told me that little fake, Jim Allen, was coming here to-night, so I thought I’d drop in and look him over,” Ace said sneeringly.
Sam Hogg bounced to his feet. “You promised to tell no one!”
“Ace is really my son, and it just slipped out,” the judge apologized. He looked sternly at Ace. “You kept your word?”
“Sure thing. Bill, here, never heard a word about the Wolf until we came in here,” Ace replied.
“That’s true, gentlemen,” Anderson corroborated him.
The sheriff doubted both of them. He considered swiftly. He could not reach Allen now and warn him not to come. Dutchy had gone downtown. If he himself left to find Allen he might miss him. Better to remain here and help the Wolf when he came.
Bill Anderson regarded the waiting circle sardonically. “I’ve always been curious to see Jim-twin Allen,” he said. “You’ll forgive me if I mention that an alliance between a judge, a sheriff, and an outlaw has its humorous side.”
“You’re quite right,” said the judge thoughtfully. “But if he can help us we are justified in allying ourselves with him.”
“If he was the devil and could lead us into the lava fields I’d follow, hanging onto his tail,” said the sheriff.
“If what I hears is true, that he can follow trail like an Apache or a bloodhound, I’m bettin’ he can lead us through them lava fields,” Sam Hogg cried warmly.
“You fellows are wastin’ your time,” Ace Cutts put in. “He ain’t got nerve enough to come here.”
“Yuh mean he ain’t big enough fool to come into a town filled with gents what is longin’ to plug him,” Jim Hogg corrected.
“Call it that if yuh like.”
“I am afraid I agree with Ace; whether it is fear or caution which keeps him away, he won’t come to-night,” the judge said heavily.
“He will come, because he said he would,” affirmed a girl’s voice. Snippets had entered the room in time to hear the last remarks.
Anderson laughed tolerantly. “That sounds like a schoolgirl’s admiration for Robin Hood.”
“Robin Hood – huh! Allen’s rep is made by fools, girls, and old men,” Ace snapped. “I’m tellin’ yuh he ain’t no good and he won’t come. And we’re wasting our time not havin’ a rider beatin’ it to Texas to get Cupid Dart, the gent I was tellin’ you of.”
His words held a word of hate. The other men looked at him curiously. Jim Hogg scratched his head. The judge looked questioningly at the others.
“I think Ace is right,” Bill Anderson said judiciously. “We have all heard of Cupid Dart. Why not send for him? Even if Allen does come, it is a question if we can trust him.”
“Trust him? Of course you can’t trust him! He’s a bushwhackin’ killer, who kills men by shootin’ them in the back. I know men who have seen him do it.” Ace’s face was pale with rage.
“Why do you hate him?” the girl asked quietly.
“Because you are a sorta cousin of mine, and I hate to think of you having truck with a man like him,” Ace replied bitterly.
“I have no truck with him; I have never heard one word from him since the day he rode away after saving my father. He told me then that friendship between a girl like myself and a man like him was impossible.”
The girl’s face was flushed. In spite of herself her voice trembled. But her eyes were steady as she looked into Ace’s angry brown ones.
“Darn it, the girl’s in love with the little runt,” Sam Hogg whispered to his brother. He went over and placed an arm about the girl’s shoulder.
“Ace, yuh got Allen wrong,” he said defensively. “When I was in the Rangers and he hung out in Texas, I chased him plenty. And he had the rep then, among bad hombres, of bein’ square. An’ I don’t believe he killed any gent what didn’t need killin’ bad.”
“Only men who fear him hate him,” the girl said softly.
Ace Cutts took a step toward her, but Anderson grasped his arm.
“You fool!” he exclaimed in a whisper.
His back was toward the others. His lips formed a sentence that could be read only by Ace. The young man nodded sullenly and made an effort to recover his composure.
“When he comes,” Snippets said anxiously to Tom Powers, “remember you promised there will be no shooting.”
“Are you scared I’ll drop your hero?” Ace jeeringly asked.
“There’s going to be no gun play,” Tom Powers cut in sharply.
“Make him give you his word,” she insisted.
The worry in her voice was apparent to all. Ace was triumphant.
“I promise you I won’t – ” he began.
Sam Hogg read the reason correctly for the girl’s anxiety and he interrupted sharply.
“Yuh idiot! She ain’t scared for the Wolf. But she’s worried that yuh’ll make a fool play so’s the Wolf will have to drop yuh before the judge.”
Ace Cutts jeered and slapped his holstered gun. The little cattleman looked meaningly toward Tom Powers, who nodded, crossed to Ace Cutts, and slipped the gun from its holster. Snippets smiled gratefully at the grizzled ex-Ranger. Ace Cutts lapsed into sulky silence.
Then a noise at the rear of the room made them turn. The door that led to the kitchen swung open. Just outside the doorway stood a shadowy figure. It moved forward into the lamplight.
“You bum, what you doing here?” Jim Hogg rasped.
The newcomer was the hobo they knew as Jim Anson.
“Howdy, gents,” he said. “Yuh sent for me?”
He removed the blue glasses and tilted back his battered hat. As he advanced farther into the room they saw the two big Colts strapped at his thighs. His loose mouth split in a broad grin, and his big, uneven teeth flashed white.
The clock on the wall ticked loudly in the silence. The assembled men stared wonderingly at the undersized boy. It was Snippets who broke the silence.
“Uncle, this is Jim-twin Allen.”
The judge coughed and said foolishly: “I thought you were Jim Anson.”
Jim Allen grinned again. That contagious grin made the two Hogg brothers chuckle aloud, and even the judge and the sheriff smiled in return.
“No, I ain’t Jim Anson. I knows there was gents in this town longin’ for my scalp, so I sorta disguises myself. And as there was gents sneakin’ around in the bushes out there, I had to pretend to still be Jim Anson. I reckon some one of yuh gents talked, ’cause the Toad’s got all of his killers out there waitin’ for me. I told the Yuma Kid I had a message for the judge, so he let me pass,” Allen explained.
The men were amazed. It seemed unbelievable. Jim Anson, the cowardly, whining little bum! Jim-twin Allen! Their glances traveled from his shapeless moccasins to his boyish, freckled face. But from his strange, animallike eyes, there could be no doubt he was the man for whom they were waiting. They also understood how he had come by the name of the Wolf.
Ace Cutts’ face was ghastly white. With an effort he switched his eyes from Allen to Bill Anderson. The latter was licking his dry lips and staring at the famous outlaw, hypnotized. The realization that Jim Anson was Jim Allen had stunned the politician. Desperately he tried to figure what this would mean. At all costs Allen must not leave that room. He shot a glance to Ace Cutts. The latter began to slide unobtrusively toward the front door.
“I’m right glad to meet yuh, Jim Allen,” Sam Hogg cried heartily.
His brother, Jim, chuckled. “An’ you tole me yuh chased this feller ragged when yuh was in the Texas Rangers.”
“I sure did,” the cattleman said ruefully. “I bet the Rangers winded a hundred horses chasin’ yuh when yuh was hangin’ around lower Texas. An’ we never got close enough to throw lead at yuh. Yuh still got them grays yuh had then?”
Allen’s face clouded as he glanced quickly at Snippets.
“I got one of ’em – but Queen is dead. I got her son, though.”
The ex-Ranger had heard that story. Snippets had told him how Allen had ridden his favorite horse to death in order to save her father. He understood what a sacrifice that had been – for to men who ride the long trail, horses become more than horses. They are friends, companions, and the only living things to be trusted. Sam Hogg cleared his throat.
“Heard about that,” he murmured. “It was sure a fittin’ end for a grand ol’ hoss. When my time comes I hopes I go out like that. I hears the whole town turned out unanimous and planted Queen in style.”
“Yeah,” Allen murmured dully. The others watched the little rancher and the even smaller outlaw in wonder. Bill Anderson glanced at Ace Cutts, who was close to the door now. Then his eyes once more sought Allen, and he sneered. A man who could sentimentalize over the death of a horse could hardly be as redoubtable an antagonist as rumor painted him.
Allen stepped away from the girl, who had laid her hand on his arm. He looked at Anderson and grinned once more.
“Let’s get down to business,” Tom Powers spoke.
“Sure, we’re wasting time,” Anderson snapped. “Allen, we think, because you are an outlaw, you may know the whereabouts of the Lava Gang. If you will lead us to them we will pay you well.”
There was something intolerably offensive in the way Bill Anderson spoke. Jim Hogg opened his lips to protest – but the expression on Allen’s face did not change. There was nothing there to indicate he had noticed the veiled insult in Anderson’s words; if anything, his grin grew broader.
“Yuh mean, I, bein’ on the dodge, maybe knows some of the Lava Gang and will give up my friends if yuh pays me enough?” he asked gently.
“No, we don’t mean that,” the judge cried.
“Not at all,” Tim Lynch added.
Allen ignored the judge, glanced meaningly at Tom Powers, then faced Bill Anderson, who was lounging against the fireplace. This maneuver placed Ace Cutts behind the little outlaw. Anderson had expected Allen to grow angry, to bluster, and this calmness disconcerted him. However, he had gained his objective, which was to concentrate Allen’s attention on himself; and Allen’s back was now toward the door.
“We are not asking you to betray your friends, but if you will lead us to them, we will pay you well.” The explanation was even more offensive than the original statement.
“Yuh aimin’ to get me mad?” Allen asked. He grinned at Bill Anderson and shook his head.
“Mister, I never get mad, ’cause things might happen if I did, and me not notice ’em. I let yuh talk ’cause I wasn’t sure – now I’m certain.”
Only one of the bystanders, Powers, understood the significance of Allen’s words. The others glanced curiously from Allen to Anderson. The politician’s face flushed, and he shot a quick glance at Ace Cutts, who had reached the door, then he glanced over his shoulder into the mirror behind him. At once he understood that Allen had been watching Ace Cutts reflected there, and was fully aware of the foreman’s attempt to gain the outside, where he could give the alarm to the Yuma Kid and the others waiting there.
“Yuh gents gave me yuhr promise no one was to leave the room while I was here,” Allen reminded.
“We sure did,” Jim Hogg cried.
“Get away from that door, Ace,” Tim Lynch snapped.
“Ace, don’t leave this room,” the judge commanded.
Ace Cutts had his hand on the doorknob. Now he paused.
“If he turns that knob I’ll drop him,” Allen said.
All expression had left the little gunman’s voice. It was flat, toneless. But its very flatness made Ace hesitate. He glanced at Anderson, who nodded to him to go. Then realization came to him that Allen had been watching him in the mirror and that Anderson knew it. Even if he failed to get clear of the door before Allen fired, Anderson would have gained his objective, for a shot in that room would bring the Toad’s killers on the run. Anderson was deliberately trying to sacrifice Ace. He dropped the doorknob as if it had suddenly grown red-hot, threw himself into a chair, and stared fixedly at his neat boots.
“I am given to understand that you know the members of the Lava Gang,” the judge said.
“Yeah, I knows them,” Allen replied softly.
“You can trust every one here. Will you give me their names?”
“I came here to tell yuh, but I’ve changed my mind.”
“But why?” the judge insisted.
“Judge, if yuh’ll have the sheriff leave town after dinner to-morrow night and ride straight toward Jaw Tooth Mountain, I’ll pick yuh up and show yuh where yuhr cattle is,” Allen said.
Argument was vain. Allen refused to mention even one member of the Lava Gang.
Slowly the little outlaw backed toward the door by which he had entered.
“Good night, gents,” he called. Then his eyes caught and held those of Snippets for a moment. “So long, kid,” he said softly. The door was empty and he was gone.
Allen had said that his enemies had learned he was to come there that night and were waiting for him outside. For a long moment those in the room waited, waited for the shot that would announce he had been discovered. Bill Anderson was the first to move. He picked up his hat and walked toward the front door, but Tom Powers reached it ahead of him. The sheriff shook his head.
“We promised before he came, that no one was to leave until he had been gone for ten minutes,” the sheriff explained.
For the fraction of a second Anderson held his ground before the sheriff. The impulse came to him to shout, then discretion gained the upper hand; he shrugged and returned to his place by the fireplace.
“He’s certainly a careful little cuss and doesn’t trust people,” he said with a laugh.
“Maybe if yuhr carcass was worth ten thousand you wouldn’t neither,” Sam Hogg snorted.
Slowly the minutes ticked away. When the time was up Anderson was the first to leave. The moment the door had closed behind him, Tom Powers seized Sam Hogg by the shoulder and whispered:
“Follow him and see where he goes.”
To Sam Hogg it seemed impossible that the good-natured, affable politician could be mixed up with the Lava Gang, but his training in the Rangers had taught him that all things were possible, so he nodded and slipped out after Anderson.
CHAPTER VI
THE LAVA GANG IN ACTION
Anderson went to Maria’s cantina, gave some directions to Mac Kennedy, and seated himself at a table with a Mexican girl. He had noted Sam Hogg’s rather unskillful trailing. A few minutes later he saw Hogg peer in for an instant.
As soon as the cattleman’s head disappeared, Anderson went out the rear door. He, who always claimed he went unarmed, now slipped his hand beneath his armpit and withdrew a short-barreled Colt. He tiptoed warily along the alley to the corral behind the Red Queen. At the small door in the barn he stood listening for a moment before he unlocked it and entered. He climbed to the loft and unlocked the second door which led to the short passage. With this door locked behind him he lost his air of caution. The third door – that same door behind which Allen had listened – opened into a room comfortably furnished with table, chairs, and a bed. Anderson lit a lamp and pressed a button near its other door.
Down in the Red Queen a big game progressed at the faro table. Francisco Garcia sat in his usual place on the platform. The Yuma Kid lounged near him, and Baldy sprawled on the platform at his feet.
Garcia leaned forward, his protruding eyes fixed on the dealer’s hands. A mining man had just placed a large bet, and the dealer was about to flip the cards. Behind them a buzzer sounded. The Toad frowned impatiently and shrugged his massive shoulders. The dealer turned the cards and the mining man won.
Again the buzzer sounded imperiously. The mining man doubled his bet, and the dealer glanced over his shoulder for mute instructions. The Toad shook his head. He never allowed a dealer to turn a crooked card unless he was present, and now he had to obey the summons of that buzzer.
He heaved himself to his feet and waddled toward the rear door. Grunting at each step, he climbed the stairs and made his way to the secret room in the barn.
“You took your time,” Anderson said coldly in Spanish.
“Big game,” the Toad replied. “What was your hurry?”
“A big game! Let me tell you, brother mine, that big game may be your last,” Anderson snapped.
Brothers! One was heavy-set, with the swarthy features of a Mexican; the other was blond, well formed, with the features of a Nordic. Yet they were brothers.
“I saw the Wolf to-night,” Anderson said slowly.
“You killed him?” the big man asked eagerly.
Anderson shook his head.
The Toad’s swarthy face flushed, his eyes bulged more prominently than ever, and his features contorted with furious rage.
“You saw the Wolf – the man who killed our father – and he lives?”
Anderson’s soft brown eyes became coldly contemptuous. Here lay the reason for Anderson’s dominance over his brother. He never lost his temper and he possessed a cold, calculating ruthlessness. He never made a move unless he had thought out the consequences in advance. The Toad was given to quick rages in which he acted without thought.
“Stop glaring at me! You are like Pete! If he had not lost his temper we would not be in this mess now. He had to go savage and kill a man instead of waiting and having him killed outside.”
With an effort the Toad recovered his composure and dropped into a chair.
“Let me tell you, brother mine, you also have seen the Wolf many times,” Anderson said.
The Toad shook his heavy head and growled a denial.
“Jim Anson is the Wolf!”
Francisco Garcia stared in unbelief. The color drained from his face.
“Dios!” he muttered. “Then it was he who was in the barn that night?”
Anderson nodded and related the events of that evening.
“He knows or suspects a lot, but he has no proof, or the sheriff would have acted. We have got to get Allen and get him quick,” Anderson added.
“How?”
“That girl – Snippets McPherson, the judge’s niece. She’s in love with him, and he with her. She knows where he has been holing out for the last few days. Get her and make her tell. If she won’t we’ll get him when he trails her. That will be the Yuma Kid’s job,” Anderson said rapidly.
The Toad closed his eyes, and thought for a moment. “We’ll do it to-night,” he said.
He leaned forward and lowered his voice as he explained his plan. When the Toad had finished, Anderson nodded.
“That should work. Have the Yuma Kid and Baldy cover them. And you had better start having the others cleaned up. Sam Hogg and the judge must be ‘accidents.’ The others, any way you can get them. Good night, my brother, I am off.”
Anderson slipped out the rear door and left the Toad brooding. Ten minutes later he arose and pressed the buzzer.
Sam Hogg had been reporting the result of his trailing. The sheriff stared through the window at the bright lights of the Red Queen Saloon. Suddenly he fell flat on the floor as a windowpane splintered and a bullet thudded into the inner wall. He leaped to his feet and yanked the shade down.
“That was a fool thing to do, and he warned me to watch out,” the sheriff said ruefully as he eyed the bullet hole in the wall.
“Ain’t no good chasin’ that fellow; he’s a mile away by this time,” Sam Hogg advised. “Who tole yuh to watch out?”
“Jim Allen.”
“When did yuh see him?” the cattleman asked in surprise. “Yuh seen him afore or since to-night?”
“Both,” the sheriff replied shortly. He seemed to be pondering something, then he threw himself in a chair opposite the ex-Ranger.
“Seein’ you’re on the list marked for slaughter, I figure you got a right to know,” he began. “Right after this Jim Anson turned up I knowed he was Jim-twin Allen. Toothpick comes here the first night and tells me about it. Allen tells me to trust no one but Dutchy and Snippets. He says Toothpick is all right but talks too much. He left here now just a minute before you got here. He tells me he don’t know where they got the judge’s cows and not to bother to meet him to-morrow. He sends Toothpick ridin’ off somewhere, then he goes out hisself, and he don’t tell me one dang thing he’s doin’,” the sheriff cried in disgust.
“Does he know who the Lava Gang is?” Sam Hogg asked eagerly.
“Yeah, but he only tol’ me a couple. The Toad and his killers, the Yuma Kid, and Baldy Flynn; then there’s that greaser Pedro, who bought Pete Cable’s cantina.”
“The Toad! Let’s go get him!” The little cattleman yanked out his Colt and whirled the cylinder. His eyes were snapping with excitement.
The sheriff shook his head. “We got to wait until we line up the rest – we got to catch the big boss.”
“Well, I don’t like this slaughter list,” Sam Hogg complained.
“I guess the Toad’s behind it. Me and you is on it, the judge, Dutchy, Toothpick, your brother, an’ Tim Lynch. Doc Robinson was, and they got him. The Lava Gang figures if they downs us they can elect a new sheriff and judge and run things to suit themselves. Allen went to the judge’s to-night deliberate, to sorta let them know he was onto them. He figures they’ll get nervous and give themselves away. I got to raise about twenty men right quick and keep ’em handy,” the sheriff concluded.
“Leave that to me. I got about thirty of the best boys along the border out at the Frying Pan what’s just spoiling for a fight,” Sam Hogg said with enthusiasm.
“They’ll do fine,” the sheriff agreed.
The ex-Ranger thought for a moment. “The Wolf goes to the judge’s deliberate! Then he figures some one what was there to-night is playing with the Lava Gang?”
“Yeah,” the sheriff muttered miserably.
“Yuh mean Ace Cutts!”
The sheriff nodded.
“Why, the judge brought him up, the dirty coyote!” The cattleman was bristling with anger. “An’ he tips off the Toad to have Allen killed.”
“He’s a bad one,” Tom Powers said heavily.
“I’m goin’ to hunt up ‘Big Dick,’ my foreman, and have him tip off the boys to stay sober,” the ranchman cried, starting for the door.
The sheriff stopped him. “You better go out the back way.”
At this reminder that he was on the “slaughter list,” Sam Hogg smiled grimly.
The sheriff let him out on a vacant lot behind the courthouse, and a few minutes later he was on brightly lighted Main Street. He knew that no attempt against his life would be made in public, for the man who brought him down would have every puncher on the Frying Pan to deal with later. Still, he was in danger, and a very real danger, for a warning from Jim-twin Allen was something no man could disregard.
“Bein’ him,” Sam Hogg mused, “he wouldn’t think a gent was in danger until he had both feet in a grave.”
The Lone Star Saloon stood at the corner, and he paused in the shadow of its walls and glanced up and down Main Street. Tim Lynch, the owner of the Lone Star, was one of the men on the Toad’s list, and Sam Hogg decided to drop a warning to him to be on the lookout. As he stepped up on the board sidewalk he saw the Yuma Kid and Baldy saunter out of the Red Queen.
“I ain’t hankerin’ to meet them jaspers,” he grunted and hastily slid through the doors of the saloon. He waited a moment and peered out. The two killers were standing on the corner opposite the judge’s house. They made no effort to conceal their presence. Obviously they were waiting for something.
As he watched he saw two figures, followed by a third, come out of the judge’s gate and head toward the outskirts of the town.
“Darn it, why do they let Snippets go roamin’ with that Kennedy dude fer? Reckon they is all right, ’cause Dutchy is followin’ ’em. Huh! For a minute I thinks them killers was waitin’ for the gal,” he grumbled.
The Lone Star was empty, and Tim Lynch, acting as bartender, watched Sam Hogg peer through the door for a time, then rounded the bar and suddenly clapped his hand on his shoulder.
“You playin’ detective?” he asked, grinning. “Who you watchin’?”
“Them two jaspers standin’ on the corner,” Sam replied.
“They’re plumb dangerous. It ain’t safe to even watch them two killers. Come have a drink.”
Sam Hogg tossed down a drink, then leaning forward, whispered: “Tim, I can’t tell yuh how I know, but yuh been talkin’ loud agin’ a certain gent, and he’s out for your blood.”
Tim grinned and, reaching beneath the bar, brought up a sawed-off shotgun.
“Reckon I know who you mean, and the Toad don’t work in the open, but this scatters some, an’ I’m keepin’ it darned close to me.”
Before either could say more the screen doors swung open and two men entered. Both were strangers. One was drunk and the other was attempting to pacify him.
“If I lets yuh have one more drink, will yuh promise to go to bed?” the sober one demanded.
“Positively,” the other replied.
From somewhere outside there came a shot, followed by a shrill scream, then another shot. Sam Hogg ran to the door. As he emerged on the street it struck him as queer that the strangers’ curiosity was not strong enough to make them follow him.
Several men were running and pointing up Main Street beyond the judge’s house. The ex-Ranger saw the Yuma Kid and Baldy a block away. The running men also noticed the two killers and instantly dropped to a walk. It wasn’t safe to approach them at a run. The men halted for a moment, then edged across the road to circle them.
“That’s what they was waitin’ for, tryin’ to delay pursuit!” Sam Hogg growled.
Rage overcame him and he yanked out his gun, leaped off the board walk and charged down the road. For a moment he thought Baldy was going to intercept him, but the Yuma Kid spat out a sentence in Spanish and Baldy stepped aside.
As Sam Hogg ran, followed by several other men, he heard the pounding of hoofs slowly receding on the plain. They found Dutchy on the outskirts of town, lying face downward in the dust of the trail.
A brief examination by the light of a match convinced Sam Hogg that the grizzled puncher was dead. He had been shot through the head from behind. Even as death was upon him he had drawn one gun and fired. The little cattleman cursed with sorrow and rage.
A little later one of the crowd discovered the prone figure of Kennedy, the dude, at the side of the trail. Examination disclosed he had been stunned by the butt of a gun. He groaned and opened his eyes.
Sam Hogg seized him.
“Where’s the gal? Who downed Dutchy? What happened? Come alive and spill it.”
At each question the ex-Ranger shook the half-conscious man. Finally a lanky cow-puncher interfered.
“Hell, Sam, if yuh knock the breath out of the darned dude, how can he talk?”
At last Mac Kennedy told his story. He had called on Snippets and suggested they take a walk. He had done that many times before. Dutchy accompanied them. Just as they reached the fork in the trail he had heard a shot, and swung about in time to see Dutchy fall. Then something hit him on the head, and that was all he knew. He had seen none of the men who had attacked them. Sam Hogg was convinced that Kennedy was not trying to conceal anything, not even his own cowardice.
Sheriff Tom Powers arrived on the scene; without delay he formed a posse and started in pursuit. The crowd drifted back to town. Here they found more excitement. Tim Lynch had been knifed and killed by an unknown man. His body was discovered behind the bar of the Lone Star by one of the first excited men to return from the crossroads.
Sam Hogg walked slowly to his brother’s store. The two talked in whispers for a time, then Sam called in a passing cowboy and sent him across the street to the Red Queen to fetch Big Dick, his foreman.
A few minutes later, Big Dick was dusting it straight for the Frying Pan Ranch. He was to bring back Sam Hogg’s best fighters.