No Trouble for the Cactus Kid Read online

  “Why not’?” Bantam thrust a big hand into his pocke t and began putting the contents of his pockets on the table.

  The man who called himself Texas did likewise.

  “There it is, Kid. Look it over!”

  Joe Chance leaned over the bar to watch, as did Sli m Reynolds and Art Vertrees, the only others present.

  In the pile Texas made were a worn tobacco pouch, a jackknife, a plug of chewing tobacco, several coins, a smal l coil of rawhide string, and a small handful of gold coin s wrapped in paper. There were two rifle bullets.

  In Bantam’s pile there was a wad of paper money, som e sixty dollars worth, some small change, a Mexican silve r peso, a jackknife, a plug of chewing tobacco, a stub pipe, a tight ball of paper, a comb, and some matches.

  Thoughtfully, the Cactus Kid looked over the two piles.

  There was nothing that could be identified with any man.

  It was merely such stuff’ as could be found in the pocket s of any cowhand. Except — he picked up the ball of tightl y rolled paper and slowly unrolled it.

  It unfolded into a plain sheet of writing paper that ha d been folded just once. There were also marks that made i t appear the paper had been folded about something. Th e crinkling from being rolled up was obviously more recen t that the soiled line of the old crease.

  It was not the fold the Kid was noticing, nor the fain t imprint of what might have been carried within that folde d sheet but rather the diagonal line of the sweat stain tha t ran across the papers.

  That ain’t mine!” Bantam protested. I had no suc h paper in my pocket!” He was suddenly frightened and hi s lips worked nervously. “I tell you — I”

  Texas had drawn back to one side, poised and ready.

  The Cactus Kid drew the dead man’s papers from hi s pocket and placed them beside the folded paper. Th e diagonal sweat stains matche d perfectly.

  “So?” Texas said. “It was you, Bantam! You killed him!”

  “You’re a liar!” Bantam said angrily. “I done no — !”

  Texas’ hand streaked for his gun, and Bantam grabbe d at his own gun. The two shots sounded almost as one, bu t it was Bantam who fell.

  Texas holstered his gun. Had no idea he d draw on me , but a man’s got to watch those kind.”

  Nobody replied, and he gathered his things from th e bar and went outside.

  The Kid turned back to Joe Chance. “Better give m e another shot of rye; then I’m picking up my caliw an d headin’ for home. This town’s too sudden for me.”

  Two of the bystanders took t he big man’s body out, an d later Sl i m Reynolds came in. “He must have cached tha t stolen money somewhere because he surely didn’t have i t on him.”

  “Bantam’s had it coming for a long time,”- Vertrees said , “and Texas was right. He never killed anybody in a fai r fight.”

  “What about that grulla mustang ot’ his’?” Reynolds asked.

  “That’s a mighty fine horse.”

  The Kid put his g l ass down on the bar. “Did Banta m ride the grulla’? Are you sure?”

  “Of course, Vertrees replied, surprised. I w as on th e street when he rode in. He was only a little ahead o f Texas, who was riding a bay.”

  The Cactus Kid turned and started for the door. He wa s in the saddle and started down the street when he though t of the calico.

  Bonita wouldn’t like this. He had promised her faithfully he’d return with that calico, and after all, huntin g killers was the sheriff’s job. Angrily, he turned the pain t and trotted back to the store. “Got some red and whit e calicos” he asked.

  “Sure haven’t! I’m sorry, Kid, but a fellow just came i n and bought the whole bolt. Bed and white it was, too.”

  “What kind of a fellow ?” The Kid asked suspiciously.

  “A pretty salty-lookin’ fellow. He was bow-legged an d had a Texas drawl.”

  “Why, that dirty, no-account — !” The Kid ran for hi s horse.

  As he started out of town Reynolds flagged him down.

  Kid? What d you make of this?” He indicated a plac e in the skirt of Bantam’s saddle where the stitching ha d been slit. Obviously something had been hidden there.

  “Do you believe that Texas man stole tha t money?”

  “No, he was the killer, himself!”

  Why Texas had headed back along the trail down whic h they had come he could not guess, but that was exactl y what he was doing.

  It was a grueling chase. The paint pony liked to run , however, and although the bay was a long-legged brut e they moved up on him. Occasionally, far ahead, he glimpse d dust. Then it dawned on him that Texas was not trying t o escape. He was simply staying enough ahead to be safe fo r the time being.

  That could mean he planned to trap him in the hill s somewhere ahead. After all, Texas had dry-gulched tha t other man.

  When they reached the hills, the Kid turned off th e trail. This was his old stamping grounds, and he ha d hunted strays all through these hills and knew their ever y turn and draw. He knew Mule Creek and the Maveric k Mountains like it was his own dooryard.

  Climbing the pony up the banks of the draw, the Ki d skirted a cluster of red rocks and rode down through a narrow canyon where the ledges lay layer on layer like a n enormous chocolate cake, and emerged on a cedare d hillside.

  He loped the paint through the cedars, weaving a purposely erratic path, so if observed he would not make a n e ff ective target, then he went down into the draw, crosse d the Agua Fria, and circled back toward the trail, movin g slowly with care. He was none too soon.

  Texas was loping the bay and glancing from side to sid e of the trail. Almost opposite the Kid’s hiding place, h e reined in suddenly and swung down, headed for a bunc h of rocks across the way.

  The Kid stepped into the open. “It was a good idea , Texas,” he said, “only I had it, too.”

  Startled, the man turned very slowly. “I knew you’d figure it out, Kid. I thought I’d just buy all that calico t o make sure you followed me. I just don’t want any witnesse s left behind.

  “Anyway, that girl of yours would still need a dress, an d I could always say your dyin’ words were that I shoul d take it to her, and that I was to stay by an’ care for her , like.”

  He let go of the reins of his horse. “I mould like to kno w how you figured it out, though.”

  “It was the Henry rifle. When you rode off on the ba y with the Henry in the scabbard I knew it had to be you. I f ound a shell from that ri fl e.

  “Bantam was really surprised when he saw that paper , You’d slipped it into his pocket wh e n you were standin g close, then you called him a liar and killed him before h e had a chance to talk. Then you went to his saddle an d recovered the money.”

  “It was this way, Kid. I’d tai l ed Parsons to kill him fo r his money, hut after I did, Bantam opened fi re on me an d run me off. He’d been trailing him, too. Then he wen t down to the body, got the money and lit out.

  Anyway,” Texas added, now you know how it was.

  When you came into sight, Bantam took a shot at you t o warn you off until he could get out of sight.

  “But I guess you got me, so it all went for nothing. I’m not sorry about Bantam, he was simply no good, but as fo r YOU —He would hang for what he had done, and both he an d th e Kid knew it, and the Kid, knowing his man, knew h e would take a chance. Texas went for his gun and the Ki d shot him.

  Then he walked over to the hay, which showed n o intention of running away, and recovered the bolt of calico, and then the money from Texas’s body.

  “Parsons will likely have some folks who can use this,” h e told hims e lf, then rolled the body over the bank , tumbled rocks and sand over it and, gathering th e reins o f the hay he mounted the paint and headed for home.

  When he cantered up to the gate Bonita came running , eyes sparkling with happiness. Having known other girl s before, he was not sure whether it was for him or th e calico, he ha d to content hi m self with the conclusio
n it wa s pro b a b ly a little of bo th.

  “See” she said . “If you just go into town and com e right b ack , i t’s easy to stay out of trouble if you j u st want to. Now this wasn’t any trouble , was it?”

  “No, honey, no trouble at a ll.”

  He glanced at the pai nt p ony who was looking at hi m with a skeptical eve. “Yo u sh u t u p!” he told the paint .

  The pony yawned a nd swished his tail at a fly ,