CHAPTER ONE

  NOGANA

  It wasn't the biggest ranch in the West. Red Blaze was grudgingly willing to concede that point, but by cracky it was going to be the best.

  There was always a surge of pride hit Red as he rode towards the small cluster of buildings which formed the living quarters and the centre of the S-B Ranch. They, the buildings and this land belonged to him and his partner Johnny Ray-bold, late scout of the Wedge trail crew.

  The ranch buildings were not much, nothing to eyes which had seen the haciendas of old Mexico or the great house of the O.D. Connected spread in the Rio Hondo country of Texas. Just two small frame cabins facing each other about twenty yards apart. Beyond them lay the small bunkhouse, a big barn and stable, a blacksmith's forge which backed to a small stream which ran by the property. The three corrals were stoutly made, laying behind the bunkhouse; there were only a few horses in for the ranch did not have need for a large remuda at the moment. From between the two cabins ran a wagon trail which headed straight to the county seat, Apache City, a small town six miles away.

  Red, riding in his low horned, double girthed Texas saddle with the easy grace of a cowhand, allowed the big claybank stallion to make a better pace towards the house. The horse, a cross between a sorrel and a dun, with a yellowish coat, was big, fine looking and powerful, a speed horse, a go-to-town horse but of little use for cattle work. It was Red's special

  favourite and he always used it for anything other than working cattle.

  He was a typical Texas cowhand, this Red Blaze, tall, wide shouldered and without an ounce of fat on his powerful young frame. The brown Stetson, expensive, fitted to Texas style and set at the right `jack-deuce' angle over his off eye, hid a thatch of fiery red hair and shielded a freckled, pugnaciously handsome face from the sun. Red's eyes were blue, merry, laughing eyes in the tanned face. His mouth was strong but looked as if it would rarely be without a cheery grin. Around his throat, tight rolled and knotted, was a bandana in which every conceivable colour warred in a glorious riot. He was prouder of that bandana than of any other thing he owned, except for the blonde and beautiful little girl he called his wife. The bandana had been a gift from his uncle, Ole Devil Hardin, to celebrate his first lone hand chore for the floating outfit* and Red treasured it for that. His shirt was dark blue, his levis brown and showing signs of being pressed, not a usual thing in the days before his wedding. Around his waist was a brown leather gunbelt and butt forward in the holsters were a brace of walnut handled .45 Colt Cavalry Peacemakers. From under his leg showed the butt of an old Spencer carbine, a battlefield capture from the days of the Civil War when he rode as a lieutenant in the Texas Light Cavalry.

  Red saw his wife emerge from their cabin and raised his hand in a wave, the young woman replied to it and Red gave a guilty start. He reached hurriedly behind him to make sure the large package fastened to the cantle of his saddle was not in view of the house.

  Sue Blaze, small, petite, very pretty and blonde, stepped from the porch of the house and raised a hand to shield her eyes from the sun as she looked towards her approaching husband. For once she was wearing a gingham dress instead of jeans and a shirt-waist. No matter what she wore she was a pretty picture, her face heart-shaped, the eyes blue and twinkling with a love of life as great as her husband's, nose small, the lips full and looking as if they were made for * Told in The Hard Riders.laughter. Her hair was short, curly and generally looked, as did Red's, as if the feel of a comb and brush were rare.

  By now Red had reached the corral and he swung down, taking care to keep the package from his wife's view as she approached, stamping her feet down in a determined manner which he knew well. He hid the package behind the stoutest post of the corral fence and assumed a look of injured innocence as he turned to face his wife.

  `Howdy, honey,' he greeted.

  `Huh, Texans!' Sue grunted disgustedly. `I know I shouldn't have married one. "I won't be long, honey," he says. Not much he wasn't. Been gone near all day he has. Leaves all the work—'

  `It was all Johnny's fault,' Red answered, laying the blame on his absent partner's head. `He—'

  `Went out to the foothills by the reservation first thing this morning,' interrupted Sue, then plumbed his other excuses before he could make them. `Billy Jack's down there riding the south line. Young Frank's clearing that waterpole on the lower forty and Tex's on the east line.'

  With that Sue put her hands on her hips and looked defiantly at Red, daring him to talk his way out of it. Red was licked and he knew it, for he could not now lay the blame on the other male members of the S-B Ranch. There was only one thing left to do.

  With a quick lunge forward Red scooped Sue into his arms and planted a kiss full on her lips. He felt the hard firm muscles under the rich full curves of his wife's body straining against his arms. She let out a startled yell as she saw she was being carried towards the stream.

  `Red Blaze!' she shrieked, knocking his hat back to hang on its storm strap, then digging her strong fingers into his hair. `You dare drop me in the creek! I'll tear every hair you've got out!'

  The door of the Raybold house opened and Betty, Mrs. Johnny Raybold, stepped out, watching them with a tolerant smile. She was Red's cousin.

  Sue and Betty were much alike in some ways, exact opposites in others. They were the same size and had the same rich,

  full shapely figures. They were both extremely pretty young women but Betty's was a different kind of beauty. Sue looked warm, friendly, just a little innocent and naive. Betty was more maturely beautiful, her face showing breeding, self-control and intelligence. Her black eyes were friendly, yet more serious than Sue's. She wore a tartan shirt-waist, a pair of washed out blue denim pants and had Kiowa moccasins on her feet.

  The two young wives got on very well despite or, perhaps because of, their different upbringings. Sue had been raised on a ranch in Arizona, a small place and her education came from lessons given by her mother and father. Betty had been an orphan from her second year, she'd been born and raised on the mighty O.D. Connected Ranch of her grandfather, Ole Devil Hardin. Her education had been by private tutor and then in a fancy Eastern school and she was a couple of years older than Sue. Betty brought one restraining influence to the partnership, her husband, though none of his old friends of the Wedge would have believed it, supplied the other. For all that it was a true partnership, working and, more difficult, never allowing Sue to feel that she was not a full member of it. In fact in many ways Sue was pleased that the ranch was run in such a manner. Red was skilled with cattle but he was not a good businessman.

  `Are you pair at it again?' Betty asked as she approached. `Say, Cousin Red. How about heading for the foothills and seeing if you can scare Johnny up for me. He went up there this morning just after you pulled out and hasn't come back.'

  `You mean he missed a meal!' asked Red incredulously, setting Sue on her feet and planting another kiss on her face. Betty nodded in agreement. Her husband was a trencherman of note and she'd been very surprised when he did not show up for a meal. It was unlike Johnny to miss food without good cause although she was not seriously worried. The S-B was a new spread and there was much work to be done on it.

  Apache County, New Mexico, had orginally been owned by two feuding families, with a tough old-timer called Comanche Blake running a cap-and-ball outfit up in the foothills by the Lipan Apache reservation. The Dobies and the Groutens feuded to such cause that in the end not a living man of either family remained. The Governor of New Mexico Territory, to prevent further feuding and to regain lost tax money, ruled that the land of both families be taken over, split into half a dozen smaller spreads and put up for sale. Smaller was a relative term, for each of the spreads was the size of a small Eastern county.

  That was where Red and Johnny came into it. They bought this spread, registered the S-B Ranch brand and set out to make it pay them. On their west line they had Comanche Blake's daughter, the old man had died shortly before Red's arrival in Apache County; on the east line a Bostonian gentleman called Colonel Akins. This same Akins brought a party of friends from the East with him, intending that they should occupy all the local ranches but they arrived too late. There had been some hard feelings over this, for two members of the Akins party failed to get a ranch.

  While Johnny, the two girls and their tophand, Billy Jack, came along from Rio Hondo with two wagons of household goods and a small herd of whiteface cattle, Red made a fast ride. On his arrival he hired two tough, handy young Texas cowhands to help with the work – and work they did. They'd worked twelve hours a day, riding the ranges and, with the aid of Comanche Blake's daughter, her two grizzled old cowhands, and a couple of old-timers from the Apache County area, built a second frame cabin.

  Early after his arrival Red found things were as he suspected. The Dobies and Groutens had been too busy feuding and killing each other to take any care of their herds so the range was covered with unbranded cattle, and was the property of the first man to lay his brand on it. Red and his two young hands had worked the range as well as they could manage and the S-B brand was slapped on many a bull, cow or calf.

  On Johnny's arrival the work went ahead fast and the S-B now ran a good herd in which the whitefaces were mingling to improve the strain of beef. Red and Johnny had made

  tentative suggestions to the other ranchers that they all combine to sweep the country from the reservation foothills to the county lines and gather in all the stock. The round-up would be handled thoroughly, the cost of it borne by

all the ranches and the unbranded stock shared out equally. The suggestion was not greeted with any enthusiasm, for the Eastern people did not know the cattle industry and were inclined to look down their noses at the S-B owners and crew.

  So it was that only the Stirrup Iron and the S-B that prospered, for the others were owned by people who did not know the cattle business and were worked by milk-cow hands who had come from the east with the owners. Rapidly they were becoming a problem to the owners.

  'Reckon I'd best take out and scare him up then,' Red drawled and grinned at Betty. 'I'd bet he was over to Comanche Blake's, sparking her.'

  'Not Johnny,' answered Betty, for she knew there was no reason for her to mistrust her husband, even with a girl as pretty as Comanche Blake's daughter. 'He's too noble, too loyal, too scared I'd find out and beat his head in with a broom. Get going, Cousin Red. By the way, was there any mail for us?'

  'Nothing. Anyways, there's not likely to be since we heard from Uncle Devil that he was sending us a bunch of blood-horses to run on the range.'

  With that Red turned back and swung afork his claybank, pulled his hat back on to his head and reached for the reins.

  'Don't think you've got away with it, Red Blaze!' yelled his - wife. 'I'll still want an explanation when you get back.'

  The two young women watched Red ride away then turned to each other.

  'Did he get it?' Betty asked.

  'He sure did. Got it hid out down by the corral. Let's go take a look.'

  The girls strolled to the corral and fetched out the large neatly wrapped parcel. They felt it, prodded it with their fingers and finally Betty asked:

  'Do you reckon we could wrap the parcel up as neat as this

  again? I'm terrible at making up a parcel and from what recollect you're not much better.'

  'You just about called it right,' Sue agreed, then snorte angrily. 'Don't it beat all git-out how awkward men can be Now we'll have to wait until they decide to show us.'

  Betty smiled and agreed. By devious methods, thinkin their wives did not know why they wanted them, Johnn and Red had managed to get Sue and Betty's dress size They'd sent to an Eastern mail-order house for two part dresses the girls had been admiring in the dream-book th company sent out. There was to be a big ball at Apach City at the end of the month and the S-B ladies must look the. best for it. This morning Red had headed for town and col lected the dresses thinking neither girl knew anything about it In that he was real wrong, for the girls both knew, and ha hoped to get a sneak look at the dresses.

  'Are you all right?' Betty inquired glancing sideways at Su as they replaced the package. 'You look just a mite peeke and I saw you heading for the back-house real early this morr ing.'

  Sue's cheeks reddened slightly. 'I'm all right. Least I thin I am. I might only be a couple of days late in starting.'

  With that Sue turned and headed for the house. Bett watched the other girl go and a gentle smile played on he lips. She was thoughtful as she headed for her house to star preparing a meal for the hands when they came in.

  Red found no trouble in picking up his friend's trai Johnny was riding his big iron grey stallion, his favourit mount. The S-B did not run a big remuda, not more than twenty horses altogether, so Johnny was using his persona mount and saving the better trained cow-horses for whe there was more work. Red was curious as he followed th tracks. There must be something important in Johnny's non return. His partner would sooner pat the head of a diamond back rattler than miss a meal. If something urgent had corn up Johnny would welcome a chance to have help.

  The range through which Red rode was good for open grazing. The grass was deep, lush and fattened cattle well

  There was plenty of water and enough bushes and trees to give shelter to the cattle in any kind of weather.

  Red's eyes went to the rim of the hills which surrounded the Lipan Apache reservation. He wondered if the Apaches would stay at peace and on the reservation. Burton Hillvers, the reservation agent, thought and said they would not. This proved little in Red's mind other than the Indian Bureau's lamentable choice of agents. Hillvers was a big, florid dude and although in charge of the Reservation Agency never went near the reservation if he could avoid it and spoke not a word of Apache. Comanche Blake's girl was firm in her belief that Hunting Wolf, supreme chief of the Lipans, would keep the peace. Red was inclined to believe the girl, for she knew Indians, her mother had been a full blooded Comanche.

  The claybank stopped and Red jerked erect in the saddle, his right hand twisting palm out to close on the walnut grip of the right side Colt. With the seven and a half inch barrelled Cavalry Peacemaker in his palm Red rode through the bushes and looked down at the dead body of a pony which lay at the top of an arroyo. It was a small, dainty paint, better than the usual run of the Indian bangtail. From the lack of a saddle Red guessed it was an Apache pony and he looked around for its owner.

  A woman screamed from inside the arroyo. It was the scream of a woman in terror and Red rode nearer, dropped from the saddle, allowed the reins to hang free in front of his claybank and went to the arroyo edge. He ignored the dead pony for a moment and looked down the very steep slope to the scared face of an Apache girl as she lay on the sand at the bottom. The arroyo was a dried out water-course, some twenty feet wide and perhaps fifteen feet deep. The action of the water which once flowed along it carved down into the soft ground to leave this scar, open and clear bottomed. Red saw the marks the girl had made as she went down. She must have been riding the horse when it fell and had gone over the rim.

  She was Apache, Red saw that in one glance. A girl slightly taller than Sue, with black shoulder long hair done in braids and held back by a headband. Her face was less heavy nosedand thick lipped than was usual in an Apache woman, pointing to a mixture of Spanish blood in her veins. Her figure was good and the white doeskin dress with the porcupine quill decorations was not that of a poor woman. There was a broad silver bracelet around her right wrist with an ivory hilted knife at her left side. Her moccasins were knee-high doe or calfskin, and Red knew that she was more than just some stray squaw. He saw that in one glance, but his attention was more on that writhing shape which moved towards the girl. It was a big rattlesnake and Red guessed the girl's legs must have been hurt going down the slope or she would have moved away.

  There was no time to think about anything other than ending the life of that snake. There was no time to even turn and draw the Spencer carbine. Red knew he must depend on his skill with the Colt.

  Bringing up the Colt, Red gripped the butt in both hands as he lined it down and sighted it carefully. There would not be time to spray much lead, the first shot must count. The sights lined, Red squeezed the trigger and let the hammer fall. The big Colt kicked back against his hands, powder smoke hid the target for a moment, then cleared. To his relief the snake was thrashing in two pieces, the .45 bullet had struck home.

  'Lay easy there, gal,' he called. 'I'll get you out.'

  Going back to his horse, Red took the sixty foot length of three strand, hard plaited Manila rope from his saddlehorn. He made one end secure to a tree trunk and tossed the other down the slope. Even with the aid of the rope it was hard to go down the steep side of the arroyo without falling and Red could see the girl had been lucky to light down without even more serious injuries.

  The Apache girl watched Red with something akin to fear in her eyes. Her left hand went to the hilt of the knife. No Apache ever trusted a white cowhand.

  'Do you understand English, gal?' Red asked, not moving-nearer until he was sure he would not get that knife into his body. -

 

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