CHAPTER XL
A SYMPATHETIC EAR
When Whispering Smith rode after Sinclair, Crawling Stone Ranch, incommon with the whole countryside, had but one interest in life, andthat was to hear of the meeting. Riders across the mountain valleysmet with but one question; mail-carriers brought nothing in theirpouches of interest equal to the last word concerning Sinclair or hispursuer. It was commonly agreed through the mountains that it would bea difficult matter to overhaul any good man riding Sinclair'ssteel-dust horses, but with Sinclair himself in the saddle, unless itpleased him to pull up, the chase was sure to be a stern one. Againstthis to feed speculation stood one man's record--that of the man whohad ridden alone across Deep Creek and brought Chuck Williams out on abuckboard.
Business in Medicine Bend, meantime, was practically suspended. As thecentre of all telephone lines the big railroad town was likewise thecentre of all rumors. Officers and soldiers to and from the Fort,stage-drivers and cowmen, homesteaders and rustlers, discussed theapprehension of Sinclair. Moreover, behind this effort to arrest oneman who had savagely defied the law were ranged all of the prejudices,sympathies, and hatreds of the high country, and practically the wholepopulation tributary to Medicine Bend and the Crawling Stone Valleywere friends either to Sinclair or to his pursuer. Behind Sinclairwere nearly all the cattlemen, not alone because he was on good termswith the rustlers and protected his friends, but because he warredopenly on the sheepmen. The big range interests, as a rule, wereopenly or covertly friendly to Sinclair, while against him were thehomesteaders, the railroad men, the common people, and the men whoeverywhere hate cruelty and outrage and the making of a lie.
Lance Dunning had never concealed his friendliness for Sinclair, evenafter hard stories about him were known to be true, and it was thisconfidence of fellowship that made Sinclair, twenty-four hours afterhe had left Oroville, ride down the hill trail to Crawling Stoneranch-house.
The morning had been cold, with a heavy wind and a dull sky. In theafternoon the clouds lowered over the valley and a misting rain setin. Dicksie had gone into Medicine Bend on the stage in the morning,and, after a stolen half-hour with McCloud at Marion's, had riddenhome to escape the storm. Not less, but much more, than those abouther she was alive to the situation in which Sinclair stood and itsdanger to those closest to her. In the morning her one prayer toMcCloud had been to have a care of himself, and to Marion to have acare of herself; but even when Dicksie left them it seemed as ifneither quite felt the peril as she felt it.
In the afternoon the rain, falling steadily, kept her in the house,and she sat in her room sewing until the light failed. She wentdownstairs. Puss had lighted the grate in the living-room, and Dicksiethrew herself into a chair. The sound of hoofs aroused her and shewent to a window. To her horror, she saw Sinclair walking with hercousin up to the front door. She ran into the dining-room, and the twomen entered the hall and walked into the office. Choking withexcitement, Dicksie ran through the kitchen and upstairs to master heragitation.
In the office Sinclair was sitting down before the hot stove witha tumbler of whiskey. "Lance"--he shook his head as he spokehoarsely--"I want to say my friends have stood by me to a man, butthere's none of them treated me squarer through thick and thin thanyou have. Well, I've had some bad luck. It can't be helped.Regards!"
He drank, and shook his wet hair again. Four days of hard riding hadleft no trace on his iron features. Wet to the bone, his eyes flashedwith fire. He held the glassful of whiskey in a hand as steady as aspirit-level and tossed it down a throat as cool as dew.
"I want to say another thing, Lance: I had no more intention than achild of hurting Ed Banks. I warned Ed months ago to keep out of thisfight; and I never knew he was in it till it was too late. But I'mhoping he will pull through yet, if they don't kill him in thehospital to spite me. I never recognized the men at all till it wastoo late. Why, one of them used to work for me! A man with the wholerailroad gang in these mountains after him has got to look out forhimself or his life ain't worth a glass of beer. Thank you, Lance, notany more. I saw two men, with their rifles in their hands, looking forme. I hollered at them; but, Lance, I'm rough and ready, as all myfriends know, and I will let no man put a drop on me--that I willnever do. Ed, before I ever recognized him, raised his rifle; that'sthe only reason I fired. Not so full, Lance, not so full, if youplease. Well," he shook his black hair as he threw back his head,"here's to better luck in worse countries!" He paused as heswallowed, and set the tumbler down. "Lance, I'm saying good-by to themountains."
"You're not going away for good, Murray?"
"I'm going away for good. What's the use? For two years these railroadcutthroats have been trying to put something on me; you know that.They've been trying to mix me up with that bridge-burning at SmokyCreek; Sugar Buttes, they had me there; Tower W--nothing would do butI was there, and they've got one of the men in jail down there now,Lance, trying to sweat enough perjury out of him to send me up. Whatshow has a poor man got against all the money there is in the country?I wouldn't be afraid of a jury of my own neighbors--the men that knowme, Lance--any time. What show would I have with a packed jury inMedicine Bend? I could explain anything I've done to the satisfactionof any reasonable man. I'm human, Lance; that's all I say. I've beenmistreated and I don't forget it. They've even turned my wife againstme--as fine a woman as ever lived."
Lance swore sympathetically. "There's good stuff in you yet, Murray."
"I'm going to say good-by to the mountains," Sinclair went on grimly,"but I'm going to Medicine Bend to-night and tell the man that hashounded me what I think of him before I leave. I'm going to give mywife a chance to do what is right and go with me. She's been poisonedagainst me--I know that; but if she does what's fair and squarethere'll be no trouble--no trouble at all. All I want, Lance, is asquare deal. What?"
Dicksie with her pulses throbbing at fever-heat heard the words. Shestood half-way down the stairs, trembling as she listened. Anger,hatred, the spirit of vengeance, choked in her throat at the sinisterwords. She longed to stride into the room and confront the murdererand call down retribution on his head. It was no fear of him thatrestrained her, for the Crawling Stone girl never knew fear. She wouldhave confronted him and denounced him, but prudence checked her angryimpulse. She knew what he meant to do--to ride into Medicine Bendunder cover of the storm, murder the two he hated, and escape in thenight; and she resolved he should never succeed. If she could only getto the telephone! But the telephone was in the room where he sat. Hewas saying good-by. Her cousin was trying to dissuade him from ridingout into the storm, but he was going. The door opened; the men wentout on the porch, and it closed. Dicksie, lightly as a shadow, raninto the office and began ringing Medicine Bend on the telephone.
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