Mavericks

by William MacLeod Raine

  CHAPTER XXVII

  THE ROUND-UP

  The Mimbres Pass narrows toward the southern exit where Point o' Rocksjuts into the canon and commands it like a sentinel. Toward this columnof piled boulders slowly moved a cloud of white dust, at the base ofwhich crept a band of hard-driven cattle. Swollen tongues were out,heads stretched forward in a bellow for water taken up by one as anotherdropped it. The day was still hot, though the sun had slipped down overthe range, and the drove had been worked forward remorselessly. Everyinch that could be sweated out of them had been gained.

  For those that pushed them along were in desperate hurry. Now and againa rider would twist round in his saddle to sweep back a haggard glance.Dust enshrouded them, lay heavy on every exposed inch; but through itseams of anxiety crevassed their leathern faces. Iron men they were,with one exception. Fight they could and would to the last ditch. Butbehind the jaded, stony eyes lay a haunting fear, the never-ending dreadof a pursuit that might burst upon them at any moment. Driven to thewall, they would have faced the enemy like tigers, with a fierce,exultant hate. It was the never-ending possibility of disaster that layheavily upon them.

  Just as they entered the pass, a man came spurring up the steep trailbehind them. The drag drivers shouted a warning to those in front andwaited alertly with weapons ready. The man trying to overtake them waveda sombrero as a flag of truce.

  "Keep an eye on him, Tom. If he makes a move that don't look good toyou, plug him!" ordered the keen-eyed man beside one of the dragdrivers.

  "I'm bridle wise, boss." But though he spoke with bravado Dixon shooklike an aspen in a breeze.

  The man he had called boss looked every inch a leader. He rode with theloose seat and the straight back of the Westerner to the saddle born.Just now he was looking back with impassive, reddened eyes at theapproaching figure.

  "Hold on, Tom! Don't shoot! It's Brad," he decided. "And I wonder whatin Mexico he is doing here."

  The leader of the outlaws was soon to learn. Irwin told the story of thestrategy that had changed him from jailer to prisoner and of the way hehad later freed himself from the rope that bound him.

  Healy unloaded his sentiments with an emphasis that did the subjectjustice. Nevertheless he could not see that their plans were seriouslyaffected.

  "It's a leetle premature, but his getaway doesn't cut any ice. What wewant to do is to nail him, clamp the evidence home, and put him out ofbusiness before his friends can say Jack Robinson. The story now is thathe was caught driving a little bunch of cows to met the big bunch hispals were rustling, and that we left him in charge of Brad while wetried to run down the other waddies. Understand, boys?"

  They did, and admired the more the versatility of a leader who couldmake plans on the spur of the moment to meet any emergency.

  "We'll push right on, boys. Once we get through the pass it will troubleanybody to find us. Before mo'ning you'll be across the line."

  "And you, Brill?"

  "I'm going back to settle accounts for good and all with Mr. Keller,"answered Healy grimly between set teeth. "I've got a notion about him. Ibelieve he's a spy."

  Just before Point o' Rocks a defile runs into the Mimbres Pass at rightangles. The leaders of the cattle, pushed forward by the pressure frombehind, stopped for a moment, and stood bawling at the junction. A riderspurred forward to keep them from attempting the gulch. Suddenly hedragged his pony to its haunches, so quickly did he stop it. For a clearvoice had called down a warning as if from the heavens:

  "You can't go this way! The Pass is closed!"

  The rider looked up in amazement, and beheld a man standing on theledge above with a rifle resting easily across his forearm.

  "By Heaven, it's Keller!" the rustler muttered.

  He wheeled as on a half dollar, pushed his way back along the edge ofthe wall past the cattle, and shouted to his chief:

  "We're trapped, Brill!"

  None of the outlaws needed that notification. Five pair of eyes hadlifted to the ledge upon which Keller stood. The shock of the surpriseparalyzed them for an instant. For it occurred to none of the five thatthis man would be standing there so quietly unless he were backed by aposse sufficient to overpower them. He had not the manner of a mantaking a desperate chance. The situation was as dramatic as life anddeath, but the voice that had come down to them had been asmatter-of-fact as if it had asked some one to pass him a cup of coffeeat the breakfast table.

  The temper of the outlaws' metal showed instantly. Dixon dropped hisrifle, threw up his hands, and ran bleating to the cover of some largerocks, imploring the imagined posse not to shoot. Others found silentlywhat shelter they could. Healy alone took reckless counsel of his hate.

  Flinging his rifle to his shoulder, he blazed away at the figure on theledge--once, twice, three times. When the smoke cleared the ranger wasno longer to be seen. He was lying flat on his rock like a lizard, wherehe had dropped just as his enemy whipped up his weapon to fire. Cold aschilled steel, in spite of the fire of passion that blazed within him,Healy slid to the ground on the far side of his horse and, withoutexposing himself, slowly worked to the loose boulders bordering the edgeof the canon bed.

  The bawling of the cattle and the faint whimpering of Dixon alonedisturbed the silence. Healy and his confederates were waiting for theother side to show its hand. Meanwhile the leader of the outlaws wasthinking out the situation.

  "I believe there's only two of them, Bart," he confided in a low voiceto the big fellow lying near. "Keller must have heard us when we talkedit over at the shack. I reckon he and Phil hit the trail for hereimmediate. They hadn't time to go back and rustle help and still gethere before us.

  "We'll make Mr. Keller table his cards. I'm going to try to rush thecattle through. We'll see at once what's doing. If they are too many forus to do that we'll break for the gulch and fight our way out--that is,if we find we're hemmed in behind, too."

  He called to the rest of the bandits and gave crisp instructions. Atsound of his sharp whistle four men leaped into sight, each making forhis horse. Dixon alone did not answer to the call. He lay white andtrembling behind the rock that sheltered him, physically unable to riseand face the bullets that would rain down upon him.

  Keller, watching alertly from above, guessed what they would be at. Hisrifle cracked twice, and two of the horses staggered, one of themcollapsing slowly. He had to show himself, and for three heartbeatsstood exposed to the fire of four rifles. One bullet fanned his cheek, asecond plunged through his coat sleeve, a third struck the rock at hisfeet. While the echoes were still crashing, he was flat on his rockagain, peering over the edge to see their next move.

  "He's alone," cried Healy jubilantly. "Must have sent the kid back forhelp. Bart, get Dixon's gun, steal up the ravine, and take him in therear. I'd go myself, but I can't leave the boys now."

  Slowly the cattle felt the impetus from behind, and began to moveforward. The voice above shouted a second warning. Healy answered with aderisive yell. Keller again stood exposed on the ledge.

  Rifles cracked.

  This time the cattle detective was firing at men and not at horses, andthey in turn were pumping at him fast as they could work the levers. Oneman went down, torn through and through by a rifle slug in his vitals.Healy's horse twitched and staggered, but the rider was unhurt. Theofficer on the ledge, a perfect target, was the heart of a very hail oflead, but when he sank again to cover he was by some miracle stillunhurt.

  "They'll try a flank attack next time," Keller told himself.

  Up to date the honors were easily his. He had put three horses out ofcommission and disabled one of the outlaws so badly that he would provenegligible in the attack. Peering down, he could see Healy, with superbcontempt for the marksman above, slowly and carefully carry his woundedcomrade to shelter. The other men were already driven back to cover. Thecattle, excited by the firing, were milling round and round uneasily.

  Healy laid the wounded man down, knelt beside him, and gave him waterfrom his flask
. The man was plainly hard hit, though he was not bleedingmuch.

  "Where is it, Duke? Can I do anything for you, old fellow?"

  The dying man shook his head and whispered hoarsely: "I've got mine,Brill. Shot to pieces. I'm dying right now. Get out while you can. Don'tmind me."

  His chief swore softly. "We'll get him right, Duke. Brad's after himnow. Buck up, old pard. You'll worry through yet."

  "Not this time, Brill. I've played rustler once too often."

  Keller, far up on the precipice, became aware of approaching riders longbefore the outlaws below could see them. He counted eight--nine--tenmen, still black dots in a cloud of dust. This he knew must be Phil'sposse.

  If he could hold the rustlers for ten minutes more they would be caughtlike rats in a trap. Once or twice he glanced behind him as a precautionagainst some one of the enemy climbing Point o' Rocks from the defile,but he gave this little consideration. He had not seen Brad when hedisappeared into the mesquite, and he supposed all of the rustlers werestill in the Pass five hundred feet below him.

  What he had expected was that they would force their way up the defilefor a quarter of a mile and strike the easy trail that ran from the rearto the top of the Point. He wondered that this had not occurred toHealy.

  In point of fact it had, but the outlaw leader knew that as they pickedtheir way among the broken boulders of the gulch bottom the enemy wouldhave them in the open for more than a hundred yards of slow going. Hehad chosen the alternative of sending Brad quietly up the rough face ofthe cliff. The other plan would do as a last resource if this failed.

  Healy believed that his enemy had been delivered into his hands. AfterKeller had been killed they would toss his body down into the Pass, andwhile his companions continued the drive to Mexico, Healy would returnto get help for Duke and spread the story he wanted to get out. The mainfeatures of that tale would be that he and Duke had cut their trail byaccident, suspected rustling, and followed as far as the Mimbres Pass,where Keller had shot Duke and been in turn shot by Healy.

  It was a neat plan, and one that would have been fairly sure of successbut for one unforeseen contingency--the approach of Yeager's posse ahalf hour too soon. Healy heard them coming, knew he was trapped, andattempted to force an escape through the narrows in front of Point o'Rocks.

  The milling cattle had jammed the gateway. Keller, shooting down one ortwo of them, blocked the exit still more. Healy and his confederatescould not get through, and turned to try the defile just as the first ofthe posse came flying down the Pass.

  Young Sanderson was in the van, a hundred yards in front of Yeager,dashing over the uneven ground in a reckless haste that Jim's slowerhorse could not match. Loose shale was flying from his pony's hoofs asit pounded forward. The outlaws just beat him to the mouth of theintersecting gulch. Dragging his broncho to a slithering halt, he firedtwice at the retreating men. He had taken no time to aim, and hisbullets went wild.

  Brill laughed in mockery, covered him deliberately with his rifle, andjust as deliberately raised the barrel and fired into the air. Thedistance was scarce a hundred yards. Phil could not doubt that hisformer friend had purposely spared his life. The boy's rifle droppedfrom his shoulder.

  "Brill wouldn't shoot at me! I couldn't kill him!" he shouted toWeaver, as the latter rode up.

  Buck nodded. "Let me have him!" And he plunged into the gorge after themen that had disappeared.

  Twice Keller's rifle spat at Healy and his companion as they plowedforward across the boulder bed, but the difficulty of shooting from farabove at moving figures almost directly below saved the rustlers. Theyreached a thick growth of aspens and disappeared. Healy parted companywith his ally at the place where the trail to the summit of Point o'Rocks led up.

  "Break south when you get out of the gulch, Sam. In half an hour it willbe night, and you'll be safe. So-long."

  "Where you going, Brill?"

  "I'm going to settle accounts with that dashed spy!" answered Healy,with an epithet. "Inside of half an hour either Keller or I will be downand out!"

  The outlaw took the stiff incline leisurely, for he knew Keller couldcome down only this way, and he had no mind to let himself get sobreathed as to disturb the sureness of his aim. The aspen grove ran likea forked tongue up the ridge for a couple of hundred yards. As Healyemerged from it he saw a rider just disappearing over the shoulder ofthe hill in front of him. For an instant he had an amazed impressionthat the figure was that of a woman, but he dismissed this as absurd.He went the more cautiously, for he now knew that there would be two forhim to deal with on the Point instead of one--unless Brad reached thescene in time to assist him.

  The sound of a shot drifted down to him, followed presently by a far,faint cry of terror. What had happened was this:

  Keller, turning away from the overhanging ledge from which he had seenthe outlaws vanish into the grove, looked down the long slopepreliminary to descending. He was surprised to see a horse and riderhalfway between him and the aspen tongue. To him, too, there came aswift impression that it was a woman, and almost at once something inthe poise of the gallant figure told him what woman. His heart leaped tomeet her. He waved a hand, and broke into a run.

  But only for two strides. For there had come to him a warning. He swungon his heel and waited. Again he heard the light rumble of shale, andbefore that had died away a sinister click. Alert in every fiber, hisgaze swept the bluff--and stopped when it met a pair of beady eyespeering at him over the edge of the precipice.

  The two pair of eyes fastened for what seemed like an eternity, butcould have been no longer than four ticks of a clock. Neither of the menspoke. The outlaw fired first--wildly, for the arm which held the riflewas cramped for space. Keller's revolver flashed an answer which torethrough Irwin's teeth and went out beneath his ear. With a furious oaththe man dropped his weapon and flung himself upward and forward, landingin a heap almost at the feet of the detective.

  "Don't move!" ordered the latter.

  Brad writhed forward awkwardly, knew the shock of another heavy bulletin his shoulder, and catching his foe by the legs dragged him from hisfeet. Keller's revolver was jerked over the edge of the precipice as helet go of it to close with the burly ruffian.

  Both of them were unarmed save for the weapons nature had given them.The detailed purpose of the struggle defined itself at once. Irwin meantby main strength to fling the detective into the gulf that descendedsheer for five hundred feet. The other fought desperately to savehimself by dragging his infuriated antagonist back from the edge.

  They grappled in silence, save for the heavy panting that evidenced thetension of their efforts. Each tried to bear the other to the ground, toestablish a grip against which his foe would be helpless. Now they wereon their knees, now on their sides. Over and over they rolled, first oneand then the other on top, shifting so fast that neither could clinchany temporary advantage.

  THEY GRAPPLED IN SILENCE SAVE FOR THE HEAVY PANTING THATEVIDENCED THE TENSION OF THEIR EFFORTS. _Page 340_]

  Yet Keller, with a flying glance at the cliff, knew that he was beingforced nearer the gulf by sheer strength of muscle. Irwin, his jawshattered and his shoulder torn, was not fighting to win, but tokill. He cared not whether he himself also went to death. He wasobsessed by the old primeval lust to crush the life out of this lustyantagonist, and his whole gigantic force was concentrated to that end.He scarce knew that he was wounded, and he cared not at all. Backwardand forward though the battle went, on the whole it moved jerkily towardthe chasm.

  The end came with a suddenness of which Larrabie had but an instant'swarning in the swift flare of joy that lit the madman's face. His foot,searching for a brace as he was borne back, found only empty space.Plunged downward, the nester clung viselike to the man above, draggedhim after, and by the very fury of Irwin's assault flung him far outinto the gulf head-first.

  It was Phyl Sanderson's cry of horror that Healy heard. She had put herhorse up the steep at a headlong gallop, had seen the whole
furiousstruggle and the tragic end of it that witnessed two men hurled over theprecipice into space. She slipped from the saddle, and sank dizzily tothe ground, not daring to look over the cliff at what she would see farbelow. Waves of anguish shot through her and shook her very being.

  A man bent over her, and gave a startled cry.

  "My heaven, it's Phyl!" he cried.

  "Yes." She spoke in a flat, lifeless voice he could not have recognizedas hers.

  "Where is he? What's become of him?" Healy demanded.

  She told him with a gesture, then flung herself on the turf, and brokedown helplessly. The outlaw went to the edge and looked over. The gulfof air told no story except the obvious one. No wingless living creaturecould make that descent without forfeiture of life. He stepped back tothe girl and touched her on the shoulder.

  "Come."

  She looked up, shuddering, and asked, "Where?"

  "With me."

  "With you? It was you that drove him to his death, and I loved him!"

  "Never mind that now. Come."

  "I hate you! I should kill you when I got a chance! Why should I go withyou?" she asked evenly.

  He did not know why. He had no definite plan. All he knew was that hisold world lay in ruins at his feet, that he must fly through the nightlike a hunted wolf, and that the girl he loved was beside him, foreverfree from the rival who lay crushed and lifeless at the foot of thecliff. He could not give her up now. He would not.

  The old savage instinct of ownership rose strong in him. She was his. Hehad won her by the fortune of war. He would keep her against all comersso long as he had life to fight. Night was falling softly over thehills. They would go forth into it together to a new heaven and a newearth.

  He lifted her to her feet and brought up her horse. She looked at himin a silence that stripped him of his dreams.

  "Come!" he said again, between clenched teeth.

  "Not with you. I don't know you. Leave me alone. You killed him! You'rea murderer!"

  He stretched hands toward her, but she shrank from him, still in thedull stupor of horror that was on her spirit.

  "Go away! Don't touch me! You and your miscreants killed him!" And withthat she flung herself down again, and buried her face from the sight ofhim.

  He waited doggedly, helpless against her grief and her hatred of him,but none the less determined to take her with him. Across the border hewould not be a hunted man with a price on his head. They could bemarried by a padre in Sonora, and perhaps some day he would make herlove him and forget this man that had come between them. At all events,he would be her master and would tie her life inextricably to his. Hestooped and caught her shoulder. She had fainted.

  A footfall set rolling a pebble. He looked up quickly, and almost of itsown volition, as it seemed, the rifle leaped to both of his hands. A manstood looking at him across the plateau of the summit. He, too, held arifle ready for instant action.

  "So it's you!" Healy cried with an oath.

  "Have you killed him?"

  The outlaw lied, with swift, unblazing passion: "Yes, Buck Weaver, andtossed his body to the buzzards. Your turn now!"

  "Then who is that with you there?"

  "The woman you love, the woman that turned you and him down for me,"taunted his rival. "After I've killed you we're going off to bemarried."

  "Only a coyote would stand behind a woman's skirts and lie. I can't killyou there, and you know it."

  Healy asked nothing better than an even break. He might have killed withimpunity from where he stood. Yet pantherlike, he swiftly padded sixpaces to the left, never lifting his eyes from his antagonist.

  Buck waited, motionless. "Are you ready?"

  The outlaw's weapon flashed to the level and cracked. Almostsimultaneously the other answered. Weaver felt a bullet fan his cheek,but he knew that his own had crashed home.

  The shock of it swung Healy half round. The man hung in silhouetteagainst the sky line, then the body plunged to the turf at full length.Buck moved forward cautiously, fearing a trick, his eyes fastened on theother. But as he drew nearer he knew it was no ruse. The body lay supineand inert, as lifeless as the clay upon which it rested.

  Once sure of this Buck turned immediately to Phyllis. A faint cracklingof bushes stopped him. He waited, his eyes fixed on the edge of theprecipice from which the sound had come. Next there came to him theslipping of displaced rubble. He was all eyes and ears, tense and alertin every pulse.

  From out of the gulf a hand appeared and groped for a hold. Weaverstepped noiselessly to the edge and looked down. A torn and bleedingface looked up into his.

  "Good heavens, Keller!"

  Buck was on his knees instantly. He caught the ranger's hand with bothof his and dragged him up. The rescued man sank breathless on the groundand told his story in gasped fragments.

  "--caught on a ledge--hung to some bushes growing there--climbed up--laystill when Healy looked over--a near thing--makes me sick still!"

  "It was a millionth chance that saved you--if it was a chance."

  "Where's Healy?"

  Weaver pointed to the body. "We fought it out. The luck was with me."

  A faint, glad, terrified little cry startled them both. Phyllis wasstaring with dilated eyes at the man restored to her from the dead. Hegot up and walked across to her with outstretched hands.

  "My little girl."

  "Oh, Larry! I don't understand. I thought----"

  He nodded. "I reckon God was good to us, sweetheart."

  Her arms crept up and round his neck. "Oh, boy--boy--boy. I thoughtyou were--I thought you were----"

  She broke down, but he understood. "Well, I'm not," he laughed happily.Catching sight of Buck's grim, set face, Larrabie explained what scarceneeded an explanation. "You'll have to excuse us, I reckon. It's my dayfor congratulations."

  Phyllis freed herself and walked across to her other lover. "My friend,I know the answer now," she told him.

  "I see you do."

  "Don't--please don't be hurt," she begged. "I have to care for him."

  The hard, leathery face softened. "I lose, girl. But who told you I wasa bad loser? The best man wins. I've got no kick to register."

  "Not the best man," Keller corrected, shaking hands with his rival.

  Phyllis summed it up in woman fashion: "My man, whether he is the bestor not. It's just that a girl goes where her heart goes."

  Weaver nodded. "Good enough. Well, I'll be going. I expect you'll notmiss me."

  He turned and went down the hill alone. At the foot of it he met JimYeager.

  "What about Brill?" the younger man asked quickly.

  "He'll never rustle another cow," Buck answered gravely. "I killed himon the top of Point o' Rocks after an even break."

  "Duke has cashed in. Game to the last. Wouldn't say a word to implicatehis pals. But Tom has confessed everything. The boys slipped a nooseover his head, and he came through right away.

  "Says he and Duke and Irwin helped Healy rob the Noches Bank and do alot of other deviltry. It was just like Keller figured. The automobilewas waiting for the bunch with the showfer, and took them out the oldFort Lincoln Road. Dixon knows where the gold is hidden, and is going toshow the boys."

  "That clears up everything, then. I judge we've made a pretty thoroughgather."

  Jim looked up and indistinctly saw the lovers coming slowly down throughthe grove. Dusk had fallen and soon the cloak of night would be over themountains.

  "Who is that?"

  Buck did not look round. "I reckon it's Keller and his sweetheart. Shefollowed us here."

  "I told her not to come."

  "I expect she takes her telling from Mr. Keller." He changed the subjectabruptly. "We'll go on down to the boys and see what's doing. They'll besome glad, I shouldn't wonder, at making a gather that cleans out theworst bunch of cutthroats and rustlers in the Malpais. Don't youreckon?"

  "I reckon," answered Yeager briefly.

  THE END

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