The rangers' code

Front matter

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Contents

CHAPTER PAGE

XVIII. Woman’s Courage. 225

XIX. Important Work To Do . . ., . . 236

Chapter I

T HERE was no doubt in the minds of those who knew him best that Sheriff Tom Thomas had his defects, the same as the general run of members of the human race, but one thing even his enemies admitted —he could 4 ‘size up” a man.

And now he glanced from the letter which he had been reading and looked carefully at the newcomer who stood at one end of the desk, fumbling with his battered hat and glancing through the nearest fly-specked window at the busy main street of Goldland, the county seat.

There was a whimsical smile upon the stran¬ ger’s lips, as though what he saw in the street amused him. He was more than six feet tall and inclined to be willowy. His body sagged, as though with weariness. His arms hung 1 limply. There was an expression of fatigue in his countenance—not the fatigue that comes from hard work or hard play, but rather from boredom with the world and its assortment of people. He was dressed after the manner of the range country, and evidently he was no stranger to the modes of travel in the waste places. His clothes had seen much service. His face had been bronzed by the sun and the wind and the weather. His chin was firm, and his eyes were clear.

But Sheriff Tom Thomas had seen a hun¬ dred men with those valuable qualities, and he was looking for some man who had just a little bit more to offer. He had almost de¬ spaired of finding one, and now this stranger • had ridden into the town bearing a letter from an old friend of Thomas’, a man whom the sheriff had not seen for more than ten years.

The official glanced at the newcomer once more. This time he gave particular attention to the belt and holster and gun the stranger wore. Being a gunman himself, the sheriff could tell a lot about a man by the way he wore his gun. And this man, who stood at the end of the desk and watched the street through the window, gave the impression that he did not carry a weapon for ornamental purposes only. But a man never can tell.

“This letter seems to be all right,” the sheriff said suddenly. 6 ‘ Glad that you dropped in to see me. So you are looking for a job, are you? Take a chair!”

The stranger turned his gaze from the open window, smiled down at the sheriff, and sat in the chair at the end of the desk. He seemed to fold up his legs like the legs of a camp cot. Sheriff Tom Thomas almost grinned, but he did not. He had known hot-headed men who had shot to kill because of a grin at the wrong moment and in the wrong place, and he was not sure yet of the real character of the man before him.

“You are the Dick Ganley mentioned m this letter?” Sheriff Thomas asked.

“I reckon.”

“TT’m!” the sheriff grunted. “The man who wrote this letter is an old friend of mine.”

“So he said,” the stranger replied, “but I ain’t aimin’ to hold that agin you.”

The sheriff laughed a little. “Have you known him long?” he asked.

“Yell! He has been a great friend of my dad, too. He spanked me often when I was a little shaver, whenever my dad got tired, byt reckoned that I still needed spankin’.”

The sheriff laughed again. “How old are you, Ganley?” he wanted to know.

“I’m goin’ on twenty-nine, if I remember right. I never was good on dates.”

“Where from?”

“Texas.”

“But you don’t speak like a Texan.”

“I reckon not. I meant that I came from Texas last. I just went home there for a little visit, and when I got all ready to roam again they gave me that letter and said as how I might drop over here into Arizona and look you up. I never played around Arizona much, so I thought that I’d just drop in on you. I’ve seen lots worse places.”

“I see,” the sheriff grunted. “Where were you before you were in Texas?”

“You’re askin’ a lot of questions,” Dick Ganley intimated, his eyes narrowing for an instant, “but I guess that it’s all right, since I’m seekin’ a job. I’ve been almost every place, I reckon. I was down in South America for a while, but I didn’t like it much. I learned to speak the lingo, and a man gets plenty of sleep and slumber down that away. They go in for these siesta things, but I just couldn’t get acquainted with the grub. I like lots of grub, and I want it just so.”

“Had a lot of adventures?”

“Some,” Dick Ganley admitted modestly. “I was a colonel in a revolutionary army in one of them frijole countries. It wasn’t much of a job, but I had to have a job just then, and there wasn’t anything else.”

“Like it?” the sheriff asked.

4 4 Naw! That army wasn’t worth much. The men all ran when the fightin’ started, and I had to fight the loyal troops alone. I fought ’em all day; and at sunset they sent a flag of truce and offered to make me a general if I’d switch sides.”

“You’re inclined to be modest, aren’t you?”

“Meanin’ that I’m braggin’?” Dick Ganley asked. 44 My good gosh, that ain’t anything to brag about! I’m just tellin’ you what hap¬ pened. I told ’em that I didn’t want to be a general unless I could have steaks smothered in onions and ham and eggs and regular coffee all the time. They didn’t know what I was talkin’ about, so I just walked away and left ’em.”

“I see,” said Sheriff Tom Thomas, his eyes glittering suddenly and with meaning.

“When I got down to the nearest port, they tried to stop me,” Dick Ganley continued. “It seems as how they was determined to make me stay there and be a regular citizen, or else shoot me against a wall. But I couldn’t see things that way.”

“I suppose you swam to the nearest island and escaped?” the sheriff asked, sneering a bit.

“My good gosh, no! I ain’t very much of a swimmer. I knocked down the officer in charge of the squad and got aboard a banana boat that was in the harbor. The boat hadn’t taken on her cargo yet, but I was right eager to get away from there, and so I persuaded the skip¬ per that he’d better sail pronto!”

“Was that hard to do?”

“No, sir,” Dick Ganley said. “I had my six-gun in one hand and a couple of gold pieces in the other, and I let the skipper take hjs choice. He took the gold.”

Sheriff Tom Thomas settled himself lower in his chair and deftly rolled and lighted a cigarette. The sheriff admired a great man in any line of life, even in the line of false¬ hood, and he firmly believed that he was look¬ ing npon one now.

“Have there been any other little moments of excitement in yonr short career ?” the sheriff wanted to know.

“A few, I reckon,’’ Dick Ganley replied, rolling a cigarette of his own. “I had some fun down in the South Seas once. I got doped and put on an island schooner. A bunch o’ thieves ran her, poachin’ for pearls and raidin’ tradin’ stations. They got quite a lot of pearls, too.”

“Yeh?” the sheriff questioned.

“Yes, sir! I never saw so many pearls be¬ fore or since. But they sure made me mad. They wanted me to work too much, and the grub wasn’t fit to eat. So I just naturally cleaned up the skipper and his two bucko mates and licked half the crew. Then I took charge, and we set sail back to where we came from.”

“You did?”

“Yes, sir! One of them government boats overtook us, and stopped us, too. I tried hard to explain all about it, but the government officer seemed to think that I was the king of the poachers myself, and he was goin’ to arrest me. Of course I couldn’t stand for any¬ thing like that.”

“Certainly not!” said the sheriff.

“And so what happened was entirely his own fault. If he had taken my word, it wouldn’t have happened.”

“What did happen*?”

“Oh, I just refused to be arrested,” Dick Ganley replied, flicking the ash from his cigar¬ ette. “I knocked the captain down and took his gun away and held up all the others. Then I made my Kanakas hog tie ’em, and we sailed the government boat to the nearest island and went ashore. They were right down mad about it, I heard afterward.”

“Have you confined your adventures to foreign lands'?” the sheriff asked, trying hard not to smile.

“Not exactly,’’ Dick Ganley replied. 6 ‘I was in New York once. Shucks! Them New York gangsters ain’t so much! One of their gunmen got mad at me and took a shot at me from the end of a dark alley. Only hit me in the shoulder.”

“Rotten shooting,” the sheriff commented.

“You betcha!”

“I suppose you massacred him?”

“Nope! I wasn’t mad at him at all. I just took his gun away from him and smashed some sense into his head with it and told him what I thought of him and his whole gang, and then I went away from there.”

“Perhaps it was just as well,” the sheriff said weakly. “How about the West? Ever had any adventures near home?”

“I was in the Texas Rangers for a spell.”

Sheriff Tom Thomas sat up quickly in his chair, having a sudden feeling that he had been fooled.

“You dratted fool!” the sheriff exploded. < ‘ Why didn’t you tell me that at first ? If that

is true, it’s all that I need to know, unless-

They didn’t kick you out of the rangers for any reason, did they?”

“I reckon not. They wanted me to stay and be an officer, but I didn’t want to settle down.”

“Are you lying to me?” the sheriff de¬ manded suddenly.

Dick Ganley’s right hand dropped swiftly to his belt, and his eyes narrowed. “A man who ain’t a fool is generally mighty careful what kind of words he uses, ’ ’ the stranger said.

There was silence for an instant.

The sheriff almost choked again. He had seen that lightninglike move of the other’s hand, as though it had been mechanical and unconscious, showing that the move often had been made before. Either the man before him Was a great liar, or a natural-born and lucky fighter, and the sheriff did not know which. Under the circumstances he did not want to make a mistake.

“I’ve got a job open,” the sheriff said, eager to change the subject. “It’s a deputy’s job, of course. It’s such a tough job that none of the men around here will take it, and I’ve got authority to hire an outsider.”

“Sounds good!” Dick Ganley said.

“Know much about this county?”

“No, sir.”

“Away over in one corner of it there is a little town called Cactusville,” the sheriff related. “It’s a good many miles from the rail¬ road, and it’s a lot of miles from here. It is in a valley of waste land, hot as blazes, but there are some mines and ranches back in the canons and hills.”

“I getcha!”

“The town is cut off from the world, a man might say. Understand? Once or twice a month they have a great time and cut up rough. That is when the mines or ranches pay off their help.”

“Uh-huh!”

“It is so danged far away and hard to get at that I can’t fuss with it much. I’ve had half a dozen deputies stationed there, but they don’t seem to last.”

“No!” the sheriff said. “They plugged three of my men, and the crimes never were fastened on anybody. They sent one back to me, mistreated and almost insane. Two others just naturally took one look and quit. And they were all good men, too!”

“I reckon that there must be quite a few bad hombres in this here town of Cactusville.”

“There is a tough gang there that rules the town,’* the sheriff explained. “They own the stores and the saloons, with a few exceptions, and what they do not own they control by terrifying the proprietors. When pay day comes they fleece the miners and punchers. All kinds of gambling open! Liquor sold openly, too—poor stuff at that. It’s out of the way and small fry for the Federal men. They make the days and nights hideous in Cactusville when pay day comes along.”

“Must be tough!” Dick Ganley said.

“And when they can’t get the men to drink and gamble, they just smash ’em on the head and rob ’em,” the sheriff went on. “They’ve even got a regular hill where they plant their victims. They even brag about it. ”

41 TJh-huh! ’ ’ Ganley grunted.

“Now and then, one of them drifts over here to Goldland, but he generally behaves when he does. We never arrest any of them over in Caetusville, because we couldn’t convict them if we did. They’d kill off an honest judge or prosecuting attorney, and they’d be sure to pack the jury box.”

“I getcha!”

“But the town of Caetusville must be cleaned up!’ ’ the sheriff declared. 6 ‘ People in other parts of the county are commencing to complain about it. Those crooks robbed a rich mining man a couple of weeks ago, and his friends are raising hades about it. Something must be done!”

“Yeh?”

u We know some of the members of the gang, but we can’t prove anything on them,” the sheriff continued. “ There seems to be some unknown man at the head of it, and they refer to him as the King of Cactusville.”

“Huh!” Ganley grunted. “I never did go much on kings.”

“A man by the name of ‘Snake’ Howger— which suits him exactly—is one of them, but I do not think that he is the big boss. Rut he is one of the most important. There are two other men, Bob Draige and ‘Stub’ Stibes, who figure prominently in the gang. Bob Draige is here in Goldland right now.”

“Here?”

“Yes, and it would only be nonsense for me to throw him into the jail, for I can’t prove a thing on him. He grins right in my face, dang him! He came here to record a mining claim, which I suppose the gang stole from some poor old cuss of a prospector. But he isn’t at all liable to make any sort of a break while he is in town. ”

“Uh-huh!” Dick Ganley grunted.

“I am right eager to send another deputy to Caetusville, and I hate to do it. He must be a real man. I can’t go myself now, because the court session is due to open in a few days, and I have to be here. And it wouldn’t do any good for me to go unless I took a posse along, and if I did that they’d simply behave until we came away, and then tear loose again. I can’t afford to keep a dozen deputies there all the time.”

“I should think not!”

“And I can’t get a regular man in town to take the job,” the sheriff went on. ‘ 4 Under the circumstances I can’t say that I blame them much.”

“Why, it sounds like a right nice job to me!” Dick Ganley remarked.

“It does, hey?” the sheriff grunted.

“Yeh! What does she pay?”

“A hundred a month, your horse-

“Got my own hoss!”

“Gun-”

“And my own gun!”

“Ammunition, expense money when neces¬ sary, and your regular living expenses,’’ the sheriff continued. “I had to work hard to get the commissioners to put up for the living expenses, but they finally did it. But it wasn’t any extra inducement to the men of this here town. What’s the use of having somebody paying your living expenses when you aren’t going to live long enough to run up any*?”

“Not much!” Dick Ganley admitted.

“You came here to me with a letter from an old friend of mine and a string of big talk that may be more than two-thirds yarns, for all that I know,” the sheriff said. “But I wouldn’t want you to go over to Cactusville and right away get filled with lead, since my old friend sent you here.”

“That’d be strictly up to me,” Dick Ganley replied. “A man ought to be able to take care of hims elf. I’m my own boss, and I don’t aim to get filled with lead!”

“I want to impress on your mind that every¬ thing I have said to you is true, and I haven’t told you the half of it, either. That’s a right tough gang, and no mistake!”

“Uh-huh!”

‘ 1 Do you mean to tell me that you’d take such a job after all that I have said?”

Dick Ganley did not hesitate the fraction of a second. “Sure!” he replied. “When do I leave?”

“Not so fast, Ganley! I haven’t sworn you in yet. And I haven’t said yet that you can have the job. I’ll have to think it over. I’ve got a responsibility in this affair, you must understand. It is almost dusk now. You come in to see me the first thing in the morning.”

“All right!”

“Fixed for money?”

“ Yeh! I’ve got a couple of hundred or so, I reckon,” Dick Ganley said. “That’ll last me until mornin’, maybe, if I don’t get reckless with it.”

Dick Ganley got up out of the chair, stretched his long form, put on his hat, smiled at the sheriff again, and then walked slowly and lazily from the office and out into the street. The official looked after him and scratched softly at his head, as he always did when he was badly puzzled.

“He’s either a great liar, or a great man!” Sheriff Tom Thomas told himself finally. “And I’ll be hanged if I can tell which— yet!”

Which did not mean that Sheriff Tom Thomas could not “size up” a man any more, but that there were times when he needed more than half an hour in which to do it.

CHAPTER II TWO ENCOUlSrTERS

G ANLEY stopped just outside the door ’ of the sheriff’s office and rolled himself a fresh cigarette. As he lighted it, he glanced at the street over his cupped hands. Goldland was at that mystic hour, enjoyed by Western towns of a certain kind, when men shift from daylight to dark, as methodically and as mechanically as the sun sets.

With the coming of dusk there had come a new spirit and a new feeling. The onerous business of the day was over, the necessary commercial strife, and now the citizens of the town, for the greater part, settled down to the still more serious business of play.

Down from the distant hills came a breath of cool breeze to waft aside the heat waves that had danced during the day. Flaring kerosene lamps were lighted and spread their illumina¬ tion through fly-specked windows and across 18 the walks in uncertain splotches. Men walked up and down the street and stopped before the hitching racks to talk to acquaintances and strangers alike.

This place was full of bustling life.

From one of the resorts there came a sudden burst of so-called music, hammered out on a tin-pan piano that had been imported to Goldland years before. Dance-hall girls could be seen hurrying to their places of work. Citi¬ zens of the town, merchants, dealers in cattle and metals, cow-punchers in from the range, miners down from the mines, questionable male characters, with hands too white and nails too carefully trimmed, mingled in the throng.

Dick Ganley had seen this thing before, and in numerous places, yet it held for him a cer¬ tain interest, the more so because these men of Goldland were strangers to him. But he knew that they would not all be strangers long. Following the way of the West, they would accept him for the time being, watch him and appraise him, and then decide whether to accept him fully, or cast him aside as a man in whom they did not care to have a special interest.

Ganley crossed the street and entered a restaurant conducted by a Chinese cook. He ordered steak smothered with onions, coffee and apple pie, the regular feasts of the range country when it is not ham and eggs and beans.

Until the blonde waitress slapped the food down before him on the counter, he regarded the street through the open doors, sitting cross-legged on the high stool. But when the food finally was before him, he ate as a hungry man eats, and a healthy one, ate until the steak was but a bone, the onions and potatoes were but things of memory, and there remained nothing but a dark stain in the coffee cup. Then he got up and walked slowly along the counter to pay his check and take a handful of toothpicks. The blonde waitress acted also as cashier.

44 Stranger?” she asked, arching her brows.

“To this here town, yes, ma’am,” Ganley replied, his eyes twinkling. “I just rode in the middle of the afternoon.”

“You’ll like Goldland,” she said.

4 4 Uh-huh! ’ ’ Ganley grunted. 4 4 1 like almost any town unless it’s too tame. ”

She smiled across the counter at him, as she

TWO ENCQUNTEES 21

gave Ganley his change. 44 Going to remain long?” she asked.

44 There’s no telling”

44 Puncher?”

Ganley looked straight at her. 4 4 Who wants to know?” he asked.

She pouted. “Oh, well, if that’s the way you look at it-”

“I don’t aim to be gruff, sister,” Dick Gan¬ ley told her, “only I just naturally hate answerin ’ questions. ’ ’

“So that’s the way of it, huh?” she said. “I suppose you’d hate to have a sheriff go askin’ questions?”

Ganley grinned. “Well, your sheriff has already done asked me a few, and I ain’t in jail, ’ ’ he answered. 4 4 1 ain’t any fugitive from justice, if that’s what you want to know. Why, I brought your sheriff a friendly letter from an old friend of his. I’m lookin’ for a job.”

44 Any particular kind?” she wanted to know.

44 You sure can ask questions,” he said. 4 4 Waste of time to drag the thing out that a way. My name’s Dick Ganley. I’m from Texas. I’m twenty-nine and free and white and vote the Democratic ticket because my dad would shoot me if I voted any other. I’ve got a hoss and a gun and a few bucks in my pants pocket. No brothers or sisters. 5 ’

“Huh! Think you’re smart, don’t you?” she sneered.

“You started it,” he reminded her.

Ganley smiled at her and got another smile by way of reply.

“My name’s Myrtle Baines,” she told him.

“It’s a right nice name.”

“Glad you like it,” she sniffed. “Looking for excitement, are you?”

“Always!” Ganley said.

“I used to live in Cactusville. That’s the town for excitement. Only you have to stand in with the gang if you want to live long enough to enjoy it.”

“Seems to me I’ve heard tell of that town,” Ganley admitted. “Maybe I’ll visit it one of these days.”

“Better take along an extra gun if you do,” she told him. “I’m going back on a visit in a couple of weeks myself, maybe.”

“Won’t that be nice?” Ganley said. “My hoss don’t carry double, though.”

TWO ENCOTTNTEBS

“It don’t need to,” she assured him. “Speaking of excitement, there’s a dance to¬ night.”

“Yeh? And you call that excitement?” Ganley asked.

“It might prove to be if you tried to dance with me.”

“Meanin’ that you’d scratch out my eyes if I asked you?”

“Oh, not that!” she said. “But there’s a gent here from Cactusville, and he’ll expect to dance with me all the time.”

“Yeh?”

“Yeh!” she said. “His name is Bob Draige. I’ve known him for years. He’s taken quite a fancy to me, but it won’t do him any good. He keeps his distance, ’cause I make him. But he’d sure make mincemeat of any other gent who tried to dance with me. And it spoils things for me, I can tell you. No man in town will ask me to dance when Bob Draige is in the hall. And there are a lot I’d rather dance with than him.”

“Me, for instance?”

“If you are a good dancer,” she said.

“Oh, I can step around some,” Dick said.

“Why don’t you just refuse to dance with that jasper if he pesters you so?”

“He’s the kind of man that you want to keep friendly with.”

“Yeh?” Dick asked. “That powerful, is he ? Huh! I wasn’t thinkin’ of attendin’ any dance this evenin’, But I might he tempted to do it. Ain’t any fun goin’ to a dance unless you dance, o’ course. Now, if I was to come to that dance, would you dance with me?”

“If you asked me—and Bob Draige let you.”

“Well, I’m askin’ you now.”

“I’d be pleased,” she said. “But it’d get you into trouble. I’m not foolin ’. Bob Draige is a mean cuss. He’s one of the boss men over at Cactusville, and he’s mean right here in the county seat, too, right under the sheriff’s nose.”

“I’d admire to meet up with such a jasper,” Ganley said.

“Well, if you’ve got your nerve with you, I’ll give you a dance.”

“Thanks. I ain’t got my wardrobe with me, so I can’t dress up.”

“I suppose that’s an excuse!” she sniffed.

“Your clothes won’t make any difference, so you can’t stay away now on account of them. And you’re pretty husky. They check guns at the door, you see.”

“Uh-huh! Meanin’ that it’ll be an affair for fists only^ Shucks! I don’t believe any of it. If I can get there, I’ll sure remind you of that dance.”

Dick Ganley grinned at her and went out upon the street again. He had seen the Myrtle Baines type scores of times, girls who worked hard and sought a bit of entertainment when and where they could, girls to whom a cheap dance was an evening’s rare pleasure. Some of them were weak, but the greater number were able to care for themselves.

Myrtle Baines, Ganley decided, belonged to the latter class. She thought nothing of flirt¬ ing with a stranger and half coaxing him to attend a dance with her. It would be a triumph in her own little world to be seen dancing first with a new man come to town.

Ganley grinned and went on up the street, walking slowly, bumping against other pedes¬ trians without apology. He had not lied when he had told the sheriff that he had about two hundred dollars in his pockets. But he was hoping that the sheriff would give him the deputy’s job just the same. Ganley always felt better, always felt anchored, when he had a job. He wanted excitement and adventure, and there was always an added spice if it came on the side of the law.

He walked the length of the street, crossed over, and started back along the other side. Presently he came to a large resort that bore the name “Recreation Center.” The place had been a saloon, dance hall, and gambling den, years before, Ganley judged, and prob¬ ably it had been the biggest place in town in Goldland’s hectic days when the metal strike was new.

Ganley swung through the doors and en¬ tered. The place already was jammed. There was the old bar with a couple of bartenders behind it. There were signs giving lists of soft drinks, but Ganley did not doubt that a man known to be safe could procure illicit liquor, if he wished it. Ganley went to the bar and consumed a bottle of lemon pop, more from force of habit than from the fact that he wanted the drink. Then he turned from the

TWO ENCOXJNTEKS 27

close scrutiny of the bartender and glanced around the big room.

In the rear there was an old-fashioned dance hall, with a man at the piano and dance-hall girls at work. It was the same old thing with new trimmings. No unattached man look¬ ing for recreation and wanting a dance could expect to dance with one of those girls unless he purchased soda or sarsaparilla and paid four prices for it. In the old days, of course, it had not been soda, and in those days there was a chance of a man getting intoxicated and liberal.

Gambling games were running along one side of the room and in another little room adjoining, but the place seemed rather tame. Sheriff Tom Thomas made no attempt to pro¬ hibit gambling, since the most of these men had known it all their lives; but there were no huge stakes, such as there had been in years gone by.

There was a roulette game, a faro layout, and a half dozen poker tables. Dick Ganley, his hands itching for the feel of the cards, walked slowly toward the latter. He watched the games for a time and decided that they were very ordinary. Finally a player left his chair, throwing wide his hands to intimate that he was done. It was an open game, and Ganley slipped into the chair before any other could reach it.