Free Oliver Strange - Sudden Westerns 05 - Law O' The Lariat(1935) by Oliver Strange

that an early start had to be made in the morning sent the guest back
to the bunkhouse, his curiosity unsatisfied. “Bloomin’ clam,” he muttered
disgustedly. “But he’s got an ace in the hole all right, I’ll betcha.”
                 Soon
after daybreak the drive started. Severn gave instructions that the cattle were
to be permitted to go their own pace, being merely kept on the move; he did not
want the beasts tired in case it should be necessary to push them hard towards
the end of the journey. With such a small herd and an easy trail, he reckoned
on reaching the XT during the afternoon. Mile after mile dropped behind them,
and nearly half the distance was accomplished without incident.
                 A
couple of miles from Skull Canyon Severn called a halt for rest and a meal.
When the journey was resumed, the foreman, riding ahead, turned into a
growth-cluttered gully almost at right angles to the trail they had been
following. Gecvor, stationed on the left front of the herd, spurred across.
                 “Hey,
boss, this ain’t the way,” he cried. “The trail to the XT goes right through
Skull Canyon.”
                 “I
know, but I reckon this is safer, Geevor,” the foreman replied, and did not
fail to note that the shifty eyes fell before his own.
                 “Well,
it’s yore say-so, but this is one hell of a place to get cows through,” came
the sullen retort.
                 “Yu
think Skull Canyon would ‘a’ been easier, eh?” Severn asked meaningly.
                 The
man muttered something about its being an open trail, and subsided. The next
few miles justified his criticism, for the cattle had to be driven over ground
bristling with natural obstacles. Dense undergrowth, thickets of young trees,
streams, rocky ridges, and declivities all had to be overcome, and the riders
had their work cut out to hold the herd together. They had got over the worst
of it and emerged into an open, grassy stretch when two pistol shots rang out,
and Severn turned to see Geevor staring stupidly at the smoking gun he was
holding. Angrily he rode over.
                 “What’s
the big idea?” he asked. “Tryin’ to stampede the herd, huh?”
                 “Gun
wasn’t ridin’ easy, so I pulled her out an’ blame me if she don’t go off,” the cowboy explained. “Dunno how it happened.”
                 The
foreman had to be content with the explanation, though he felt convinced that
the shots had been purposely fired. Was the fellow in league with the bandits?
It was more than likely and Severn gave the word for more speed. He kept a
watchful eye on Geevor, and presently noticed that the man’s horse was limping.
                 “Hoss
has gone lame; I’ll have to catch yu up,” the rider said sullenly.
                 The
foreman bit on an oath. “Yu’ll stay with us, Geevor,” he replied acidly. “If yu
keep yore toes outa his elbows the hoss’ll soon get over his lameness.”
                 “I
ain’t—”
                 “Straight—T
know it,” Severn cut in. “When we get back to the Lazy M, yu can drift, but for
now, yu stay with the herd.” The shifty eyes again wavered and dropped.
                 After
about three miles, the detour they had taken brought them back to the trail
again, and to the XT ranch without further difficulty. Then only did the
foreman explain to his men his reason for the extra labour they had been put
to.
                 “Mebbe
it was a false alarm, boys, but I couldn’t afford to take the chance,” he said.
“I’m shore obliged to yu for puttin’ it through.”
                 Ridge,
a bulky man of middle-age, with a broad, weather-worn face, met them outside an
empty corral, looked over and counted the herd, and invited Severn to adjourn
to the house, at the same time