“You fellers look like you’ve got it all worked out,” Danny said admiringly.
“We sure have,” agreed the rancher. “Do you want in?”
“Deal me in,” drawled Danny, glancing to where Mousey and Calamity entered. I’ll see you all tomorrow night.”
“What do you think?” Soskice asked as Danny rose and walked to meet the two girls.
“He’s a slicker young cuss than I reckoned,” answered the rancher.
“Too slick, maybe,” said the lawyer. “Of course, the ones who think they’re the smartest always fall for a girl. Watch him, Turk, and if he makes a wrong move, kill him.”
“Dutchy’d like the chance to do that,” the rancher replied.
Danny managed to get Calamity alone long enough to tell her of his progress, then he left the saloon, collected his sabino and rode back to the ranch. On his arrival, he put up the horse and walked across to the main house.
“Like to see you, boss,” he said when Jerome answered his knock on the front door. “Can you take a walk down to the corral with me?”
One look at Danny’s face told the rancher that something serious was afoot. So, without asking any questions, Jerome stepped out of his house and walked toward the corral at Danny’s side. Jerome did not know what to expect. It could be that the youngster had found some serious disease among the stock and wanted his boss to hear of it in privacy. There might be any of a dozen other reasons for the request. Never would Jerome have guessed the real reason for Danny’s visit; and when he heard, he could hardly believe his ears.
“I want to steal some of your cattle,” Danny remarked casually.
While noted for his skill as a poker player, Jerome could not help coming to a halt and staring at Danny.
“Reckon you’d best take that again—slow, Danny.”
Reaching into the concealed pocket built into his gunbelt, Danny extracted his badge and held it so Jerome could see the star in the circle. “I’m a Ranger in Captain Murat’s company and was sent up here to bust up the cow stealing.”
“Well, I swan!” swore the rancher. “You sure as hell had me fooled.”
“And a few other folks—I hope,” drawled Danny and went on to tell the rancher of his activities, including the offer he received. “I want proof enough to take the whole danged bunch into court, boss.”
“Then we’ll jump ’em when they take the cattle,” Jerome suggested.
“It wouldn’t do any good. They’ll just claim they know nothing and it’s two men’s word against mine. I figure to learn where they hide the stock, who they sell to and bring in the whole danged bunch.”
“We’ll play it your way. Say, can I let Ed in on this?”
“Sure,” Danny confirmed. “I’ll need help to handle the stuff, too.”
“Don’t reckon me or Ed’d do for that,” grinned the rancher.
“Or me. Can’t see them being dumb enough to buy a rancher or his segundo becoming cow thieves. I’ll take young Tommy.”
“Tommy?”
“Sure. He’s got a good head and he’s steady enough where Mousey’s not involved. If you’ve still got those two running irons we found by Sammy and Pike, I could use them, too.”
“I’ll see to it,” Jerome promised. “And anything else you may need.”
The rancher proved to be as good as his word. Next morning Danny, Tommy and Lyle rode out on what appeared to be an ordinary routine ranch chore, except that the two younger members of the party each carried a running iron hidden under his saddle-skirts.
During the ride Tommy listened with awe and admiration as Danny told what he knew about the cow stealing. Although Tommy had a cowhand’s disrespect for local law enforcement officers, he regarded the Texas Rangers as being something real special and his admiration for Danny grew rather than lessened on learning the other belonged to that famous body of men. Eagerly Tommy agreed to help Danny and listened carefully to his instructions.
Being older, Lyle hid his feelings and merely remarked that he had figured all along that there was more to Danny than met the eye. With his knowledge of the range, Lyle took the others to where groups of cattle grazed. Scanning the animals, Danny’s party picked out and cut any unbranded grown beef they saw, hazing it ahead of them until they drove twenty head before their horses.
“We’d best play this the right way,” Danny remarked. “Let’s use that hollow where the boys were killed to do the branding.”
“Sure,” the foreman agreed. “I sure as hell never figured I’d be using a running iron on the boss’s cattle.”
“Or me,” Danny admitted. “Say, Ed, I’ve been kicking a fool notion around in my head. Let’s make sure we can identify our stock by running a small Bench J where it won’t show, say under the animal’s belly.”
“You’ve got a right smart notion,” the foreman grunted.
Once down in the hollow where two men died, the three cowhands set to work and branded the stock. While Tommy held the cattle, Danny cut out each animal in turn and led it to where Lyle kept a fire burning and the running irons heated to a glowing cherry-red. Showing his riding and roping skill, Danny put the captured animal down. Lyle hawg-tied it and then burned a prominent Bradded S on the animal’s left hip and traced a smaller Bench J under the belly where it would escape notice unless specifically searched for. In range terms, a brand was “something that won’t wash off,” so the cattle carried a mark of legal ownership as well as the cow thieves insignia.
The hidden brand, known as a “sleeper” became a standard weapon in the war against cow thieves in Texas and more than one light-fingered, wide-looped gent met his just deserts through Danny Fog’s “fool notion.”
Hard work and skilled handling saw all twenty head branded before darkness fell. With the preparations made, Danny and Tommy left Lyle to carry out the next part of their business; meeting Stocker and selling their “stolen” cattle.
“Good luck,” the foreman said as they parted.
“We’ll likely need it,” Danny answered with a grin.
Turning his horse, Lyle headed back in the direction of the ranch to report to his boss that all had worked out satisfactorily so far. Danny and Tommy moved the cattle a couple of miles from the hollow which held such painful associations for the animals, then halted to wait out the time until midnight.
“Do we take ’em tonight?” asked Tommy as they mounted their horses ready to make for the rendezvous.
“Nope. Not unless we have to. I want them all, from top to bottom, not just Stocker and his bunch.”
“All?”
“There’s more than just Stocker involved,” Danny told him. “All we do is ride up, deliver the stuff and pull out. Then I’m going to trail Stocker to where he hides it. Once we know that, we can move.”
“You’re the boss,” grunted Tommy.
Shortly after midnight the two young men drove their twenty head of cattle toward the rock shaped like the clipped point of a bowie knife.
“Just act natural, Tommy, boy,” Danny warned in a low voice.
“I’m as nervous as a hound-scared cat,” the youngster groaned back.
“That’s how you should be,” Danny replied with a grin. “This’s the first time you’ve ever done any cow stealing. Can’t expect you to act easy on it. Just follow my lead though—and don’t spook.”
As they drew closer to Bowie Rock, the two young men saw a pair of shapes ride into view from a clump of scrub oaks at one side of the outcrop. Coming closer, the shapes turned into a recognizable Stocker and his bulky foreman, Schatz. The burly man’s right arm looked unnaturally white but Danny realized this to be caused by a bandage around the place where his heel stamped into flesh.
“Hold it!” Stocker growled suspiciously. “There’s two of you.”