Rimrock Jones Read online

  CHAPTER X

  THE FIGHT FOR THE OLD JUAN

  When a man's honor is questioned--his honor as a fighting man--it isthe dictum of centuries of chivalry that he shall not seek to avoid thecombat. A great fortune was at stake, many millions of dollars and thepossession of a valuable mine, and yet Rimrock Jones did not move. Hewalked around the town and held conferences with his friends until wordcame at last that he was jumped.

  "All right," he said and with Hassayamp and L. W. he started across thedesert to his mine. Red-handed as he was from a former treachery, L.W. did not fail Rimrock in this crisis and his cactus-proof automobiletook them swiftly over the trail that led to the high-cliffedTecolotes. He went under protest as the friend of both parties, butall the same he went. And Hassayamp Hicks, who came from Texas wheremen held their honor above their lives; he went along as a friend inarms, to stand off the gunmen of McBain.

  The news had come in that Andrew McBain had left Geronimo under coverof the night, with an automobile load of guards, and the next day atdawn some belated stampeders had seen them climbing up to the dome.There lay the apex of the Tecolote claims, fifteen hundred lateral feetthat covered the main body of the lode; and with the instinct of a minepirate McBain had sought the high ground. If he could hold the OldJuan claim he could cloud the title to all the rich ground on bothsides; and at the end of litigation, if he won his suit, all theimprovements that might be built below would be of value only to him.Always providing he won; for his game was desperate and he knew thatRimrock would fight.

  He had flung down the challenge and, knowing well how it would end, hehad had his gunmen barricade the trail. They were picked-up men ofthat peculiar class found in every Western town, the men who live bytheir nerve. There were some who had been officers and others outlaws;and others, if the truth were known, both. And as neither officers noroutlaws are prone to question too closely the ethics of theirparticular trade so they asked no questions of the close-mouthedMcBain, except what he paid by the day. Now, like any hired fighters,they looked well to their own safety and let McBain do the worrying forthe crowd. He was a lawyer, they knew that, and it stood to reason hewas acting within the law.

  L. W.'s auto' reached Ironwood Springs, where Rimrock had made his oldcamp, while the sun was still two hours high. From the Springs to thedome, that great "bust-up" of porphyry which stood square-topped andsheer against the sky, there was a single trail full of loose, shalyrocks that mounted up through a notch in the rim. They started up insilence, Rimrock leading the way and Hassayamp puffing along behind;but as they neared the heights, where the shattered base of the butterose up from the mass of fallen debris, Rimrock forged on and left thembehind.

  "Hey, wait!" called Hassayamp with the last of his breath, but neitherRimrock nor L. W. looked back. It was a race to the top, Rimrock toget his revenge and L. W. to stop his mad rush; but in this race, asalways, youth took the lead and L. W. lagged far behind. Like amountain sheep on some familiar trail Rimrock bounded on until hisbreath came in whistling gasps; but, while the blood pounded againsthis brainpan and his muscles quivered and twitched, the strength of tenmen pulsed through his iron limbs, and he kept his face to the heights.

  He was all of a tremble when, in the notch of the trail, he waschallenged by a ringing:

  "Halt!"

  He stopped, sucked in a great breath and dashed the stinging sweat fromhis eyes; and then, hardly seeing the barricade before him or therifles that thrust out between the rocks, he put down his head andtoiled on. Right on the rim, where the narrow trail nicked it, thegunmen had built a low wall and as he came on unheeding they rose upfrom behind it and threw down on him with their rifles.

  "Stop right where you are!" a guard called out harshly and Rimrockhalted--and then he came on.

  "Get back or we'll shoot!" shouted a grizzled gunman who now suddenlyseemed to take charge. "This claim is held by Andrew McBain and thefirst man that trespasses get's killed!"

  "Well, shoot then," panted Rimrock, still struggling up the pathway."Go ahead--it's nothing to me."

  "Hey, you stop!" commanded the gunman as Rimrock gained the barricade,and he struck him back with the muzzle of his gun. Rimrock staggeredand caught himself and then held on weakly as his breath came inquivering sobs.

  "That's all right," he gasped. "I've got no quarrel with you. I cameto get Andrew McBain."

  "Well, stay where you are," ordered the gunman sternly, "or I'll killyou, sure as hell."

  Rimrock swayed back and forth as he clung to a bush that he hadclutched in his first lurching fall and as he labored for breath hegazed about wildly at the unfamiliar faces of the men.

  "Who are you boys?" he asked at last and as nobody answered him heglanced swiftly back down the trail.

  "It's no use to try that," said the gunman shortly, "you can't rush us,behind the wall."

  "Oh, I've got no men," answered Rimrock quickly, "those fellows arejust coming along. I'm Henry Jones and I came to warn you gentlemenyou're trespassing on one of my claims."

  "Can't help it," said the guard, "we're here under orders to kill youif you come over this line."

  He indicated the wall which barred the way to the location notice ofthe claim and Rimrock hitched his belt to the left.

  "Show me your papers," he said. "You've got no right to kill any manuntil you prove that this claim is yours."

  That hitch of the belt had brought his heavy six-shooter well around onthe side of his leg and as the gunmen watched him he looked them over,still struggling to get back his breath. Then as no one moved headvanced deliberately and put his hand on the wall.

  "Now," he said, "you show me your authority or I'll come over there andput you off."

  There was a stir in the ranks of the grim-faced gun-fighters and theircaptain looked behind. Not forty feet away on the flat floor of themesa was the shaft of the Old Juan claim and, tacked to the post thatrose up from its rockpile was a new, unweathered notice.

  "That's the notice," said the captain, "but you stay where you are.You knock down that wall and you'll get killed!"

  "Killed nothing!" burst out Rimrock contemptuously, "you're afraid toshoot me!" And looking him straight in the eyes, he pushed the toprock off the wall.

  "Now!" he said after a moment's silence as the gunmen moved uneasilyabout, "I'll do that again, and I'll keep on doing it until you show methat this ain't my claim."

  "Mr. McBain!" called the captain and as Rimrock clutched at his pistolhe found a gun thrust against his stomach.

  "You make a crooked move," warned the captain sharply, "and----"

  He stopped for up from the mouth of the Old Juan shaft came the head ofAndrew McBain.

  "Ah, hiding in a hole," spoke up Rimrock sneeringly, as McBain openedhis mouth to talk. "I'd like to work for a man like you. Say, boys,take on with me--I'll double your money; and what's more I'll stand upfor my rights!" He looked around at the line of gun-fighters, buttheir set lips did not answer his smile. Only in their eyes, thosesubtle mirrors of the mind, did he read the passing reflex of theirscorn. "You're scared, you coward," went on Rimrock scathingly asMcBain looked warily about. "Come out, if you're a man, and prove yourtitle, or by grab, I'll come in there and get you!"

  He stopped with a grunt for the hard-eyed captain had jabbed him withthe muzzle of his gun.

  "None of that," he said, but Rimrock took no notice--his eyes werefixed on McBain.

  He came out of the hole with a waspish swiftness, though there was awild, frightened look in his eyes; and as he advanced towards thebarricade he drew out a bulldog pistol and held it awkwardly in hishand.

  "Mr. Jones," he began in his harsh lawyer's voice, "don't think for amoment you can bluff me. These men have their orders and at the firstshow of violence I have told them to shoot you dead. Now regardingthis claim, formerly known as the Old Juan, you have no legal right tothe same. In the first place, Juan Soto, whom you hired to locate it,is not an American citizen and therefore h
is claim is void. In thesecond place the transfer for the nominal sum of ten dollars provescollusion to perpetrate a fraud. And in the third place----"

  "You're a liar!" broke in Rimrock, his breast heaving with anger, "he'sas much a citizen as you are. He's been registered in Gunsight fortwenty years and his vote has never been challenged."

  "Juan Bautista Soto," returned McBain defiantly, "was born in Caborca,Sonora, on the twenty-fourth day of June, eighteen sixty. I have acopy of the records of the parish church to prove he is Mexican-born.And in the third place----"

  "And in the third place," burst out Rimrock, raising his voice to ayell, "that proves conclusively that you've set out to steal my mine.I don't give a damn for your thirdlys and fourthlys, nor all the lawsin the Territory. To hell with a law that lets a coyote like you robhonest men of their mines. This claim is mine and I warn you now--ifyou don't get off of it, I'll kill you!"

  He dropped his hand to his pistol and the startled gunmen lookedquickly to their captain for a cue. But the captain stooddoubtful--there were two sides to the question, and a man will only goso far to earn ten dollars a day.

  "Now hear me," warned Rimrock as there fell a tense silence, "you getoff----"

  "Shoot that man!" yelled McBain as he sensed what was coming, butRimrock was over the wall. He knocked it flat with the fury of hischarge, striking the gunmen aside as he passed. There was a moment ofconfusion and then, as McBain turned to run, the bang of Rimrock's gun.Andrew McBain went down, falling forward on his face, and as Rimrockwhirled on the startled gunmen they shot blindly and broke for cover.The fight had got beyond them, their hearts were not in it--and theyknew that McBain was dead.

  "You get off my claim!" cried Rimrock as he faced them andinstinctively they backed away. That look in his eyes they knew alltoo well, it was the man-killing berserker rage. Many a time, onforeign battlefields or in the bloody saloon fights of the frontier,they had seen it gleaming in the eyes of some man whom nothing butdeath would stop. They backed off, fearfully, with their guns at aready; and when they were clear they ran.

  When L. W. looked over the shattered wall he saw Rimrock tearing downthe notice and crunching it into the ground. He was perfectly calm,but in his staring blue eyes the death look still burned like livecoals; and it was only when Hassayamp, risking his life from heartfailure, toiled up and took charge of his claim that he could bepersuaded to give himself up.