Part 1

War Paint

By Robert Winchester Illustrated by Ralph Frederick

A right diverting tale of sudden love and battle down on the Texas border, by the competent writing-man who gave us “My Deputy” and “No Flyer Ever Lost.”

The two lean-bodied Texas rangers stood on the sidewalk of Wirton’s main street, their thin, bronzed, grave young faces immobile, watching the girl who had pulled up to the curb in a long high-powered roadster that carried a New York license.

“Doggone,” said Sam Earp, plaintively, “I sure wish Ma was along so’s she could see it. Ma’s been reading herself a lot about these new kind of girls, and she don’t believe it a-tall. Hot damn, boy! Look at her puttin’ her war paint on. Reckon she’s goin’ to hold up the bank, Bud?”

Bud Yancey grinned. “She’s a right pretty girl even if she does--my gosh, Sam, maybe-so she heard us?”

The girl calmly powdered a very pretty straight little nose, touched her red hair with a dainty hand in one or two places, looked at the general result in a little mirror, took out a lipstick, worked on her lips for a moment, looked again in the mirror--then snapped her compact shut, got out of the car and walked directly up to the two young rangers.

She wasn’t more than nineteen, and her graceful, exquisitely proportioned slim body, in its silken sheath, was the very heart of youth. Her eyes, dark gray-blue, surveyed the luckless pair, starting at their feet and slowly rising until they reached the eyes of the now much embarrassed Messieurs Yancey and Earp.

They lingered on the heavy cartridge-belts, from which hung the holstered revolvers, then once more came level with theirs, and she asked, sweetly: “When does the rest of the circus come to town?”

They both knew then that there could be no further doubt as to whether she had heard them or not. She had--and was going to give battle.

“Well suh,” grinned Sam Earp, “it aint plumb certain just what time the rest of the outfit does get in, is it, Bud?” Now that active hostilities had started, they both felt better.

“That’s right, it isn’t,” agreed Bud. “You see,” he went on gravely, his keen young black eyes, with the tiny wrinkles at the corners already forming from gazing over the hot shimmering desert, intent on hers, “there was a right bad accident happened to the lion over yonder in Laredo, and it might delay them. Were you waitin’ to see the show?”

“Yes suh,” said Sam Earp, “I don’t figure that lion will ever be the same again, will he, Bud?”

The girl’s beautiful eyes had widened quite a little when they so readily took up the circus gibe, which she had meant as a double-barreled insult, in payment for the words: “I wish Ma was along to see it.”

“Why--I don’t believe there is a circus at all,” she said, “and--”

“What?” interrupted Bud sorrowfully. “Doggone, Sam, this here girl doesn’t believe there is a circus! Don’t you believe in Santa Claus, either?” he asked anxiously.

Miss Elaine Norcross Webb, only daughter of Charles P. Webb, New York and Newport multi-millionaire, with yachts, country-houses and all that goes with them at her disposal, had never been referred to before, at least within hearing, as “this here girl.” But having fighting blood herself, she rallied quickly.

“What happened to the lion?” she asked, just as gravely as Bud.

“It’s a right sad thing,” answered Sam Earp slowly. “He was--what was he doing, Bud? You were around when it happened.”

“It was this-a-way,” said Bud, a look of scorn in his eyes as they dwelt a moment on the uninventive Mr. Earp. “That lion had a right bad habit of trying to climb the tent-pole backwards, and every time he got out, he’d--”

* * * * *

The muffled sound of two shots came from the adobe house next to the bank; the door crashed open, and five Mexicans ran out. They turned at the edge of the sidewalk, and as a white man staggered from the doorway, an old single-action .41 in his hand, they raked the doorway and the windows of the house with a stream of lead. The white man pitched forward on his face, and the Mexicans started to run up the street directly toward Elaine and the two rangers.

She had just time to see the faces of Bud Yancey and Sam Earp suddenly become grim and cold before she felt Bud’s arm close around her waist, forcing her to her knees behind him.

“Lie down,” he commanded, no trace of a drawl now in his voice. Then she saw them run to the middle of the street, guns materializing in their hands as if by magic. There was a quick flurry of shots that came before she could get on her feet, which she promptly did, in spite of the command to get down.

Two of the Mexicans lay in the street; one was retreating toward the corner, firing as he went; one did not attempt to do any fighting but ran swiftly to the corner and disappeared; the other stood still, his hands above his head. Sam Earp was sitting in the dusty street, the right side of his face a blur of blood, his right arm hanging limp, and his left hand reaching for his gun, which had dropped from his hand as a bullet had torn through his wrist.

[Illustration: Bud’s weapon rose and fell; the Mexican whirled as if hit by a giant fist, then sank to the ground.]

Bud Yancey stood erect, his heels together, swaying a little as the red splotch on his soft white shirt up near his shoulder widened. Elaine could see the frozen-looking little smile on his lips, and his eyes, now as cold and wintry as northern ice in the gray of dawn. The Mexican fired twice, then as Bud’s weapon rose and fell, whirled around as if hit by a giant fist, his knees gave way and he sank slowly to the ground.

A mild-looking old man had stepped out of the bank next door at the first shot, a revolver in his hand, the butt of which was notched in several places. He watched the fight, making no attempt to get in it. When it was over, he sheathed his gun in a holster under his left armpit and walked over to where already men were bending over Sam Earp and Bud Yancey, now lying across Sam.

* * * * *

The old man talked a moment with the men who were lifting Sam and Bud in their arms, felt gently Sam’s wrist and head, opened Bud’s shirt a little, gave a curt order and started back toward the bank. He saw Elaine standing there, one lovely hand over her heart, and came up to her. “Honey,” he said in a soft disapproving drawl, “you-all mustn’t get up when men-folks are gunfightin’. Next time you-all keep down--like a right good girl should.”

“Next time!” gasped Elaine. “I--it happened so quickly, and--”

“It does that-a-way down here,” the old man said, a twinkle coming in his calm blue eyes, “every once in a while.”

“Are they--is he--oh, he stood there with a smile and--is he badly hurt?”

“If you-all mean that wuthless young Bud Yancey,” answered Ranger Captain Coudray, “no, ma’am, he isn’t. Neither is that scoundrel of a Sam Earp.”

She had been referred to as “this here girl” and had been told to act as “a right good girl” in the course of five minutes, but she decided right then that she would defer for a day or so arriving at the army post where her brother was stationed--at least until she had heard more about the accident to the lion, and--found out that Bud Yancey was not really badly hurt.

“I was going into the bank to get a traveler’s check cashed,” she explained, “and they were talking to me when it happened. I’m Elaine Webb, and my brother is Lieutenant Webb, stationed at Fort Combes.”

“Well suh, I know him right well--and I knew your daddy’s brother when he was soldierin’ down here a long time ago. My name is Coudray, honey. I’m kinda the boss of them two jaspers I caught gun-frolickin’.”

Elaine looked at the famous old ranger captain that her brother had written about when telling of men and ways in Texas.

“Honey, after you-all get through at the bank, I sure would admire if you’d come home with me and meet up with the best lookin’ girl in Texas. Mrs. Coudray don’t get out much nowadays, and she loves young people, specially right pretty ones.”

Elaine smiled. “I’d love to. I didn’t want to go until--are you sure he isn’t hurt very much, Captain?”

“That Bud Yancey isn’t hurt hardly a-tall,” answered the old Ranger. “Honest Injun. You go and ’tend to your bankin’, and then come home with me. Ma’ll take you over to the hospital this evenin’, I reckon.”

“Why, I don’t want to see him,” Elaine hastily declared. “I--just wanted to know that--”

“I know you don’t, honey,” drawled Captain Coudray, a twinkle in his eyes. “There aint a nicer boy in the State. He’s got him a mighty good range, too. Some day he’ll have his company, I bet you.”

“I don’t see why you are telling me,” Elaine said haughtily. “I haven’t the slightest interest in--either what he is or what he has!”

“Yessum,” said Ranger Captain Coudray, stepping aside so that Elaine could precede him in the bank, “I’d bet me a lot of money that you--”

Elaine hadn’t waited to hear the rest of it, but with her patrician little nose well in the air was halfway to the banking counter.

* * * * *

Lieutenant John Webb was standing in front of a long glass frankly admiring the fit of a tunic on which was spread the silver wings of a flyer. “Hey, Lainy,” he said, without turning around, “is that a wrinkle up there by the collar? Come on over and take a look.”

“It isn’t,” answered Elaine lazily from the couch. “I can see from here. Boy, it fits you like the paper on the wall. I can--”

“You can like fun. Get off’n that couch before I come over and trun yez off. This is an important matter.”

“Oh, for Pete’s sake,” said Miss Webb inelegantly. “I’m halfway through this story, and what between you and the rest of the infants around here asking me how their uniforms fit, I’ll never finish it. It isn’t a wrinkle, I tell you.” But she rose just the same and came to the mirror. “See,” she went on, “it fits smooth--except right here.”

“Ouch! Quit it, you darn’ monkey! Gee, you shouldn’t tickle anyone like that without warning. I’ll--”

“Take that in payment for making me get up,” answered Elaine. “Jack, did you ever meet this Bud Yancey I told you about?”

“No, not Bud. I’ve met Jimmy and Wes--they’re his cousins, I guess. All the Yanceys down here are related. Man, you ought to see Jimmy’s sister Betty. She’s one lovely piece of work. I’ve seen ’em under every flag that flies, and she’s the starweno.”

“Yes?” scoffed Elaine. “So you have fallen for a Texas beauty after all your fussiness? Remember who you are, young feller.”

“That’s just it,” answered her brother. “I got as much chance as a jackrabbit, ding it.”

“What! You--a Webb--and you haven’t any chance? Does she know who you are, darling?”

Her brother eyed her suspiciously. “What are you trying to do--kid me?” he demanded. “The Yanceys were cattle barons and governors of Texas back in the days when the Webbs were running around barefooted peddling fish, you poor prune! Money doesn’t count for anything down here. It’s what you weigh and how you can stand up to it in Texas--”

“Down by the Rio Grande,” sang Elaine gayly. “So the proud and haughty Yanceys scorn the poor Webbs, do they? Never mind, Johnny; we’ll make them--”

“I’ve told you nine million times not to call me that,” said her brother hotly. “I’m going to try out that new 5N bus that came in this morning. Want to go along?”

“Not I, my darling,” answered Elaine, stretching luxuriously. “It’s too hot, for one thing; and--”

“I dassen’t, for another,” jeered her brother from the door. “Stay there and get fat, then.”

“Stay here and keep all in one piece, you mean,” called Elaine to the retreating back.

But about an hour later she decided to go down to the flying-field after all and at least watch her brother try out the new 5N. He was in the air when she arrived, watched by quite a group of officers and “kiwi.”

“Hullo,” she was greeted by a young captain. “Come on over here and sit down. That brother of yours is trying to break his fool neck. He’s been doing barrel-rolls and flying on his back while he’s resting. I’ll bet that bird he’s got up with him wishes he’d stayed on the ground. Anyone that would go up with Jack Webb when he’s testing out a crate is as crazy as he is.”

“He asked me to,” said Elaine, sitting down. “Who is it he has up with him? Must be someone that doesn’t know him very well.”

“I dunno,” answered the captain. “I wasn’t here when they started. Some lad said it was a ranger named Yancey.”

“What?” said Elaine, sitting up straight. “What Yancey? Was his--I mean is his name--Bud Yancey, Billy?”

“Whadda you care?” asked Captain William Carter with a grin. “His name will be mud if he monkeys around flyin’ with Jack, very much. Oh, ho! You’re the reason we are honored with the presence of a ranger, are you? How-come Jack wants to kill him? Doesn’t he approve, Lainy?”

“Don’t be any more of a fool than you can help,” answered Elaine crossly. “I just--my goodness, look at him!”

[Illustration: However reckless her brother acted in the air, he was cool enough to make a perfect landing.]

The great plane came roaring down in a tight spiral, to straighten out, skid, then side-slip to reduce the excess speed, the field being a small one. However reckless her brother acted in the air, he was cool enough to make a perfect landing and bring the plane to a stop within ten feet of where Elaine was sitting. As he crawled out of the cockpit, he was followed by Texas Ranger Bud Yancey, whose tanned young face seemed a little paler than usual, although as immobile and grave as ever. “I’m right much obliged to you,” Bud said, holding out his hand to Webb. “That was sure a ride. I reckon from now on, though, I’ll take mine forkin’ a bronc’.”

* * * * *

Elaine arrived, with battle showing clearly in her eyes. “John Webb,” she began, “what do you mean by taking anyone up with you when you’re trying out--”

“Aw, go on,” her brother grinned. “He wanted to go. --Didn’t you, Bud? Tell sis about it.” And he beat a hasty retreat.

“Bud Yancey, you come over here and sit down this minute. The very idea--and you not out of the hospital a week. You should have better sense,” Elaine scolded, leading the grinning Mr. Yancey firmly away to a quiet corner near one of the hangars.

“I always wanted to go up in one of those things,” he protested, as they sat down, “and I’m all right. Last time you-all came to see us, the doctor said that--”

“I don’t care what the doctor said. You shouldn’t--”

“Honey, don’t jump on the old man that-a-way while he’s plumb dizzy. You-all be a good--”

“What did you call me?” demanded Elaine, her lips tightening.

“Darlin’, how can I tell what I’m callin’ anyone, after gettin’ rolled around and around way up yonder?” asked Bud sorrowfully. “Ask me sometime when I’ve right good sense. All I know is that I’m sittin’ here with you. A jasper told me one time that when a man gets as dizzy as the dickens, he always says what he thinks.”

Elaine eyed him with a good deal of hostile suspicion. “You’re a fraud,” she declared, “and--”

“No, I am not,” interrupted Bud. “My head is clearing right fast now, and I remember. I came all the way over to tell you that after you’d been to the hospital the second time, I decided that you were.”

“I was what?” asked Elaine.

“What I called you when I was dizzy,” explained Bud with a grin.

“Well,” said Elaine grimly. “I can still see that you are as dizzy as the dickens, like you say. You better come right up to John’s with me, and let Chi-sui make you something cool to drink. You are still awfully dizzy, Mr. Bud Yancey. Come on.” And she slipped her slender little hand in his, much to the disgust of several young officers hovering around in the background. On the way she asked: “That day in Wirton--what did those men do, that you--were they trying to rob the bank?”

“No, they were some of Garcia’s men from across the line. Reckon they had a deal on with old ’Pache Brown. He’s more or less tied in with those jaspers. I mean he was,” amended Bud, with a grin.

“Then why did they try to kill him?”

“Well suh, I don’t figure they did aim to do that. Maybe-so it was the other way around. Old ’Pache was right apt to reach for a gun if he got fussed up, and it never took much to start him that-a-way. He may have thought they was holding out on him.”

“Well, wont this Garcia try and--and do something to you and Sam Earp, Bud?”

“Yessum,” answered Bud cheerfully, “I reckon he will. He’s been trying to do something to us for a long time. Not only us, but the Border Patrol gents also.”

“You seem to think it’s funny,” said Elaine hotly. “My goodness, don’t you care at all whether you get killed or not?”

“Darn’ right I do,” said Bud promptly. “I don’t want to get killed a-tall. Especially now.”

“Why especially now?” asked Elaine, as they started up the veranda steps. If she had thought to embarrass Mr. Buford Yancey with that question, she woefully failed. Mr. Yancey was always ready to give a direct truthful answer to an equally direct question.

“Because,” he said, halting on the top step and turning so as to face the very pretty little Miss Webb, “I’ve fallen in love with you, and want to live a long time after we are married.”

“What!” gasped Elaine. “You’ve--after we are married! Well, Mr. Bud Yancey, you’ve got a long, long time to live before that ever happens. Why, you’ve only known me about three weeks! How do you know that I--”

“I don’t,” interrupted Bud sorrowfully. “That’s just what is keeping me dizzy. Do you reckon that you--”

“No, I don’t,” said Elaine, interrupting in her turn, “and furthermore, I think you better sit right down here on this step until you get less dizzy, Mr. Yancey.”

“I’ll have to,” said Bud, as faintly as possible. “Better have that Chink hurry with the drink; I’m getting worse.”

“Here he comes now to see if we want anything. I think you are much too dizzy to have anything put in yours, either. You’ll get lemonade, plain.”

“My gosh!” said Bud, sitting down. “I sure wish you hadn’t asked me that question.” Then, being young and gay and happy, they both laughed and Elaine sat down beside him.

* * * * *

Two weeks later Lieutenant Webb, his right arm in a sling, a bandage around his head, looked up from where he was lying on the living-room couch. “Where the dickens have you been?” he demanded as Elaine came in.

“I got here as soon as I could after I heard about it,” she answered, coming over and kneeling by the couch, kissing him. “What happened, Johnny? Are you badly hurt, tell me! Darling, you should be more careful. Did you break your arm?”

“Who, me? I should say not. I keep it this way because it’s cooler and--”

“John Norton Webb, you answer me! What happened, and how badly are you hurt?”

“Aw, I’m not hurt at all. Quit fussin’ at me. I tried out a bus this morning, and when I landed her, the undercarriage came away, and I washed out, that’s all.”

“And got a broken arm and a--is your head bad, Johnny?”

“No, only a scratch, honest and truly, no foolin’. Where you been?”

“Up on the Lazy W Ranch to see Ma Earp. Bud took me up there. I met Betty Yancey, Jack.”

“You did! Isn’t she a bearcat? Listen, Lainy--put in a good word for me, will you? You know, tell her what a noble guy I am, and what a swell husband I’d make, and--”

“I wont--do your own horn-tooting, young feller. Oh, Jack, you’d love Ma Earp. She’s--”

“Where do you get that ‘Ma’ stuff?” demanded her brother.

“Everyone calls her Ma,” defended Elaine. “Bud asked me to.”

“And that reminds me,” said John sternly, “how-come you running around all over the lot with that darn ranger? Hasn’t he got any rangering to do at all? Whenever I asked where in the dickens you were, someone says, ‘Why, she just started with Bud Yancey for Gafoozalum or Doflicker, or some place.’”

“Why, darling,” answered Elaine, trying to look surprised, “I just wanted to see if a Webb could make a Yancey--like them. It was on your account I have been doing it, Jonathan.”

“Yeah? You fool around with these birds down here, and you’ll wake up married.”

Elaine laughed. “Don’t worry, Jonathan; I can take care of myself.”

“That’s what all you darn’ flappers think,” said John, whom enforced idleness had made rather fussy. “But how’d you like Ma Earp?”

“Oh, she’s a duck. She’s about eighty, and she was here when there were Indians and outlaws and everything. She sits up there on the big ranch, Jacky, and bosses them all--all the Earps and the Yanceys and everybody. She’s the prettiest old thing with silver hair, and her eyes are just as black and snappy. You should have seen her look me over when that darn’ fool of a Sam Earp and Bud took me in to her.”

“Why darn’ fool?” lazily questioned her brother. “Go and chase up Chi-sui, will you, Lainy? I want him to find my pipe.”

“It’s right on the couch beside you, dumbbell,” answered Elaine with sisterly candor. “Why, he said, ‘Ma, you-all claimed there wasn’t no such animal like you-all been readin’ about. Me and Bud, here, caught us one down in Wirton and tamed it a lot so we could bring it up here for you-all to look at.’”

“Yeah? What did she say?”

“Well, first she said to them: ‘You young scoundrels, go on away from here right now, you hear me?’ And honest and truly, they both did.”

John laughed. “Then what, Lainy?”

“Why,” Elaine admitted, “she told me to sit down, and she asked me a lot of questions, and--”

“Hard ones?” grinned her brother.

“Some of them,” Elaine confessed. “And then she told me to open my compact and show her how I used the rouge and the powder, and she asked me what I did it for--being a right pretty girl. And when I told her all girls did, she--she just snorted; that’s the best way I can describe it.”

“I’ll bet she did,” said John, delighted.