Mavericks

by William MacLeod Raine

  CHAPTER XIX

  THE ROAN WITH THE WHITE STOCKINGS

  Unerringly rode Healy through the tangled hills toward a saddle in thepeaks that flared vivid with crimson and mauve and topaz. A man ofmoods, he knew more than one before he reached the Pass for which he washeaded. Now he rode with his eyes straight ahead, his face creased to ahard smile that brought out its evil lines. Now he shook his clenchedfist into the air and cursed.

  Or again he laughed exultingly. This was when he remembered that hisrival was trapped beyond hope of extrication.

  While the sky tints round the peaks deepened to purple with the comingnight he climbed canons, traversed rock ridges, and went down and uprough slopes of shale. Always the trail grew more difficult, for he wasgetting closer to the divide where Bear Creek heads. He reached theupper regions of the pine gulches that seamed the hills with woodedcrevasses, and so came at last to Gregory's Pass.

  Here, close to the yellow stars that shed a cold wintry light, hedismounted and hobbled his horse. After which he found a soft spot inthe mossy rocks and fell asleep. He was a light sleeper, and two hourslater he awakened. Horses were laboring up the Pass.

  He waited tensely, rifle in both hands, till the heads of the ridersshowed in the moonlight. Three--four--five of them he counted. The menhe saw were those he expected, and he lowered his rifle at once.

  "Hello, Cuffs! Purdy! That you, Tom? Well, you're too late."

  "Too late," echoed little Purdy.

  "Yep. Didn't get here in time myself to see who any of them were exceptthe last. It was right dark, and they were most through before I reachedhere."

  "But you knew one," Purdy suggested.

  Healy looked at him and nodded. "There were four of them. I creptforward on top of that flat rock just as the last showed up. He wasridin' a hawss with four white stockings."

  "A roan, mebbe," Tom put in quickly.

  "You've said it, Tom--a roan, and it looked to me like it was wounded.There was blood all over the left flank."

  "O' course Keller was riding it," Purdy ventured.

  "Rung the bell at the first shot," Healy answered grimly.

  "The son of a gun!"

  "How long ago was it, Brill?" asked another.

  "Must a-been two hours, anyhow."

  "No use us following them now, then."

  "No use. They've gone to cover."

  They turned their horses and took the back trail. The cow poniesscrambled down rocky slopes like cats, and up steep inclines with theagility of mountain goats. The men rode in single file, and conversationwas limited to disjointed fragments jerked out now and again. After anhour's rough going they reached the foothills, where they could ride twoabreast. As they drew nearer to the ranch country, now one and nowanother turned off with a shout of farewell.

  Healy accepted Purdy's invitation, and dismounted with him at theFiddleback. Already the first glimmering of dawn flickered faintly fromthe serrated range. The men unsaddled, watered, fed, and then walkedstiffly to the house. Within five minutes both of them lay like logs,dead to the world, until Bess Purdy called them for breakfast, longafter the rest of the family had eaten.

  "What devilment you been leading paw into, Brill?" demanded Besspromptly when he appeared in the doorway. "Dan says it was close tothree when you got home."

  She flung her challenge at the young man with a flash of smiling teeth.Bess was seventeen, a romp, very pretty, and hail-fellow-well-met withevery range rider in a radius of thirty miles.

  "We been looking for a beau for you, Bess," Healy immediately explained.

  Miss Purdy tossed her head. "I can find one for myself, Brill Healy,and I don't have to stay out till three to get him, either."

  "Come right to your door, do they?" he asked, as she helped him to theham and eggs.

  "Maybe they do, and maybe they don't."

  "Well, here's one come right in the middle of the night. Somehow, I jestcouldn't make out to wait till morning, Bess."

  "Oh, you," she laughed, with a demand for more of this sort of chaffingin her hazel eyes.

  At this kind of rough give and take he was an adept. After breakfast hestayed and helped her wash the dishes, romping with her the whole timein the midst of gay bursts of laughter and such repartee as occurred tothem.

  He found his young hostess so entertaining that he did not get awayuntil the morning was half gone. By the time he reached Seven Mile thesun was past the meridian, and the stage a lessening patch of dust inthe distance.

  Before he was well out of the saddle, Phyllis Sanderson was standing inthe doorway of the store, with a question in her eyes.

  "Well?" he forced her to say at last.

  Leisurely he turned, as if just aware of her presence.

  "Oh, it's you. Mornin', Phyl."

  "What did you find out?"

  "I met your friend."

  "What friend?"

  "Mr. Keller, the rustler and bank robber," he drawled insolently,looking full in her face.

  "Tell me at once what you found out."

  "I found Mr. Keller riding a roan with four white stockings and a woundon its flank."

  She caught at the jamb. "You didn't, Brill!"

  "I ce'tainly did," he jeered.

  "What--what did you do?" Her lips were white as her cheeks.

  "I haven't done, anything--yet. You see, I was alone. The other boyshadn't arrived then."

  "And he wasn't alone?"

  "No; he had three friends with him. I couldn't make out whether any moreof them were college chums of yours."

  Without another word, she turned her back on him and went into thestore. All night she had lain sleepless and longed for and dreaded thecoming of the day. Over the wire from Noches had come at dawn fullerdetails of the robbery, from her brother Phil, who was spending two orthree days in town.

  It appeared that none of the wounded men would die, though the presidenthad had a narrow escape. Posses had been out all night, and a fresh onewas just starting from Noches. It was generally believed, however, thatthe bandits would be able to make good their escape with the loot.

  Her father was absent, making a round of his sheep camps, and would notbe back for a week. Hence her hands were very full with the store andthe ranch.

  She busied herself with the details of her work, nodded now and again toone of the riders as they drifted in, smiled and chatted as occasiondemanded, but always with that weight upon her heart she could not shakeoff. Now, and then again, came to her through the window the voices ofPublic Opinion on the porch. She made out snatches of the talk, and knewthe tide was running strongly against the nester. The sound of Healy'slow, masterful voice came insistently. Once, as she looked through thewindow, she saw a tilted flask at his lips.

  Suddenly she became aware, without knowing why, that something washappening, something that stopped her heart and drew her feet swiftly tothe door.

  Conversation had ceased. All eyes were deflected to a pair of riderscoming down the Bear Creek trail with that peculiar jog that is neithera run nor a walk. They seemed quite at ease with the world. Speech andlaughter rang languid and carefree. But as they swung from the saddlestheir eyes swept the group before them with the vigilance ofsearchlights in time of war.

  Brill Healy leaned forward, his right hand resting lightly on his thigh.

  "So you've come back, Mr. Keller," he said.

  "As you see."

  "But not on that roan of yours, I notice."

  "You notice correctly, seh."

  "Now I wonder why." Healy spoke with a drawl, but his eyes glitteredmenacingly.

  "I expect you know why, Mr. Healy," came the quiet retort.

  "Meaning?"

  "That the roan was stolen from the pasture two nights ago. Do you happento know the name of the thief?"

  The cattleman laughed harshly, but behind his laughter lay rising anger."So that's the story you're telling, eh? Sounds most as convincing asthat yarn about the pocketknife you picked up."

  "I'm no
t quite next to your point. Have I got to explain to you why I door don't ride a certain horse, seh?"

  "It ain't necessary. We all know why. You ain't riding it because thereis a bullet wound in the roan's flank that might be some hard toexplain."

  "I don't know what you mean. I haven't seen the horse for two days. Itwas stolen, as I say. Apparently you know a good deal about that roan.I'd be right pleased to hear what you know, Mr. Healy."

  "Glad to death to wise you, Mr. Keller. That roan was in Nochesyesterday, and you were on its back."

  The nester shook his head. "No, I reckon not."

  Yeager broke in abruptly: "What have you got up your sleeve, Brill? Spitit out."

  "Glad to oblige you, too, Jim. The First National at Noches was held upyesterday, about half-past three or four, by some masked men. Slim andJim Budd were around and recognized that roan and its rider."

  "You mean----"

  "You've guessed it, Jim. I mean that your friend, the rustler, is a bankrobber, too."

  "Yesterday, you say, at four o'clock?"

  "About four, yes."

  Yeager's face cleared. "Then that lets him out. I was with him yesterdayall day."

  "Any one else with him?"

  "No. We were alone."

  "Where?"

  "Out in the hills."

  "Didn't happen to meet a soul all day maybe?"

  "No; what of it?"

  Healy barked out again his hard laugh of incredulity. "Go slow, Jim.That ain't going to let him out. It's going to let you in."

  Yeager took a step toward him, fists clenched, and eyes flashing. "I'llnot stand for that, Brill."

  Healy waved him aside. "I've got no quarrel with you, Jim. I ain'tmaking any charges against you to-day. But when it comes to Mr. Keller,that's different." His gaze shifted to the nester and carried with itimplacable hostility. "I back my play. He's not only a rustler, he's abank robber, too. What's more, he'll never leave here alive, exceptwith irons on his wrists!"

  "Have you a warrant for my arrest, Mr. Healy?" inquired Keller evenly.

  "Don't need one. Furthermore, I'd as lief take you in dead as alive. Youcayn't hide behind a girl's skirts this time," continued Healy. "You'vegot to stand on your own legs and take what's coming. You're a badoutfit. We know you for a rustler, and that's enough. But it ain't all.Yesterday you gave us surplusage when you shot up three men in Noches.Right now I serve notice that you've reached the limit."

  "_You_ serve notice, do you?"

  "You're right, I do."

  "But not legal notice, Mr. Healy."

  At sight of his enemy standing there so easy and undisturbed, facingdeath so steadily and so alertly, Brill's passion seethed up andoverflowed. Fury filmed his eyes. He saw red. With a jerk, his revolverwas out and smoking. A stop watch could scarce have registered the timebefore Keller's weapon was answering.

  But that tenth part of a second made all the difference. For the firstheavy bullet from Healy's .44 had crashed into the shoulder of his foe.The shock of it unsteadied the nester's aim. When the smoke cleared itshowed the Bear Creek man sinking to the ground, and the right arm ofthe other hanging limply at his side.

  At the first sound of exploding revolvers, Phyllis had grown rigid, butthe fusillade had not died away before she was flying along the hall tothe porch.

  Brill Healy's voice, cold and cruel, came to her in even tones:

  "I reckon I've done this job right, boys. If he hadn't winged me, and ifJim hadn't butted in, I'd a-done it more thorough, though."

  Yeager was bending over the man lying on the ground. He looked up nowand spoke bitterly: "You've murdered an innocent man. Ain't thatthorough enough for you?"

  Then, catching sight of Cuffs on the porch of the house, Yeager issuedorders sharply: "Get on my horse and ride like hell for Doc Brown! Bob,you and Luke help me carry him into the house. What room, Phyl?"

  "My room, Jim. Oh, Cuffs, hurry, please!" With that she was gone intothe house to make ready the bed for the wounded man.

  Healy picked up the revolver that had fallen from his hand, and slid itback into the holster.

  "That's right, boys. Take him in and let Phyl patch up the coyote if shecan. I reckon this time, she'll have her hands plumb full. Beats all howa decent girl can take up with a ruffian and a scoundrel."

  "That will be enough from you, seh," Yeager told him sharply.

  Purdy nodded. "Jim's right, Brill. This man has got what was coming tohim. It ain't proper to jump him right now, when he's down and out."

  "Awful tender-hearted you boys are. Come to that, I've got a pill in me,too, but of course that don't matter," Healy retorted.

  "If he dies you'll have another in you, seh," Yeager told him quietly,meeting his eyes steadily for an instant. "Steady, Bob. You take hisfeet. That's right."

  They carried the nester to the bedroom of Phyllis and laid him downgently on the bed. His eyes opened and he looked about him as if to askwhere he was. He seemed to understand what had happened, for presentlyhe smiled faintly at his friend and said:

  "Beat me to it, Jim. I'm bust up proper this time."

  "He shot without giving warning."

  Keller moved his head weakly in dissent. "No, I knew just when he wasgoing to draw, but I had to wait for him."

  The big, husky plainsmen undressed him with the tenderness of women, anddid their best with the help of Aunt Becky, to take care of his woundstemporarily. After these had been dressed Phyllis and the old coloredwoman took charge of the nursing and dismissed all the men but Yeager.

  It would be many hours before Doctor Brown arrived, and it took nocritical eyes to see that this man was stricken low. All the supplestrength and gay virility were out of him. Three of the bullets hadtorn through him. In her heavy heart the girl believed he was going todie. While Yeager was out of the room she knelt down by the bedside,unashamed, and asked for his life as she had never prayed for anythingbefore.

  By this time his fever was high and he was wandering in his head. Thewild look of delirium was in his eyes, and faint weak snatches ofirrelevant speech on his lips. His moans stabbed her heart. There wasnothing she could do for him but watch and wait and pray. But whatlittle was to be done in the way of keeping his hot head cool with wettowels her own hands did jealously. Jim and Aunt Becky waited on herwhile she waited on the sick man.

  About midnight the doctor rode up. All day and most of the night beforehe had been in the saddle. Cuffs had found him across the divide, nearlyforty miles away, working over a boy who had been bitten by arattlesnake. But he brought into the sick room with him that manner ofcheerful confidence which radiates hope. You could never have guessedthat he was very tired, nor, after the first few minutes, did he know ithimself. He lost himself in his case, flinging himself into the breachto turn the tide of what had been a losing battle.