The Night Riders: A Romance of Early Montana

by Ridgwell Cullum

  CHAPTER XIX

  HOT UPON THE TRAIL

  The most welcome thing that had happened to the men on the ranch formany a long day was Tresler's return to the bunkhouse. He was hailedwith acclamation. Though he had found it hard to part with Diane underthe doubtful circumstances, there was some compensation, certainlygratification, in the whole-hearted welcome of his rough comrades. Itwas not the effusion they displayed, but the deliberateness of theirreception of him, that indexed their true feelings. Teddy Jinksrefused to serve out the supper hash until Tresler had all herequired. Lew Cawley washed out a plate for him, as a special favor;and Raw Harris, pessimist as he was, and who had a way of displayingthe fact in all the little every-day matters of life, cleaned andsharpened a knife for him by prodding it up to the hilt in thehard-beaten earth, and cleaned the prongs of a fork with the edge ofhis buckskin shirt. But he could not thus outrage his principleswithout excusing himself, which he did, to the effect that he guessed"invalid fellers need onusual feedin'." Jacob Smith, whose habit itwas to take his evening meals seated at the foot of the upright logwhich served as part of the door casing, and which contact with hisbroad, buckskin-covered shoulders had polished till it shoneresplendently, renounced his coveted position in the invalid's favor.Tresler was a guest of honor, for whom, on this one occasion at least,nothing was too good. And in this position Arizona supported him,cursing the flies that fell into his friend's pannikin of tea, andhooking them out with the point of his hash-besmeared knife as he saton his log beside him. Joe, too, had come down specially to share themeal, but he, being a member of the household, was very small fry atthe bunkhouse.

  And Tresler delighted in the kindness thus showered on him. Thefreedom from the sick-room did him good; the air was good to breathe,the plain, wholesome food was good; but most of all those bronzed,tough faces around him seemed to put new life and vigor into hisenfeebled frame. He realized that it was high time that he was at workagain.

  And there was lots for him to hear. Every man among them had somethingto add to the general hash of events, and in their usual way proceededto ladle it out without regard for audience, contradicting,interrupting, cursing, until the unfortunate man who was the butt oftheir remarks found himself almost overpowered by the babel.

  At length Arizona drew them up with one of his sudden "yanks."

  "Say," he cried, his eyes glaring fiercely and embracing the wholeparty with a great, comprehensive roll, "you fellers is like a crowdo' coyotes around a bone. I 'lows Tresler ain't an a'mighty dealbetter'n a bone about now, but his lugs ain't deef. Y're jest agorl-darned lot o' oneddicated hoboes."

  Which attack had the effect of reducing the pandemonium, but in no waysuppressing the ardent spirits of the party. It acted as a challenge,which Jacob Smith promptly took up.

  "Say, boys," he cried, "we're goin' to git eddication from Arizona!"

  His remark was followed by a derisive roar of laughter at Arizona'sexpense. But the moment it had subsided the derided one shot out hisretort.

  "Guess ther's things and critturs down our country we don't neverfigger to eddicate--them's hogs."

  "Fer the reason which they knows more'n you," returned Jacob, in noway worried by the personality.

  The boys considered the point achieved by Jacob, and another laugh atArizona's expense went up. He had stumped the cowpuncher, who nowentered the fight with wonderfully good-natured zest.

  "Say," he observed, "I ain't had a heap to do wi' your folks, Jacob,but I'm guessin' ef you're talkin' Gospel, things don't run in yourfam'ly."

  "Call him a hog right out, Arizona," put in Raw, lazily.

  "I ain't callin' Jacob no hog; et 'ud be a nasty trick--on the hog,"observed the ready-tongued man.

  "Hallo, Jacob!" cried Lew, as the laugh turned on the other man thistime.

  But Arizona resented the interference, and rounded on him promptly.

  "Say, you passon feller, I ain't heerd tell as it's the ways o' yourcountry to butt in an' boost folk on to a scrap. It's gener'ly sedyou're mostly ready to do the scrappin'."

  "Which means?" Lew grinned in his large way.

  "Wal, it mostly means--let's hear from you fust hand."

  "It's not much use hearing from me on the subject of hogs. They aren'tgreat on 'em in my country. Besides, you seem quite at home with 'em."

  Arizona sprang to his feet, and, walking over to the hulking form ofthe parson's son, held his hand out.

  "Shake," he said, with a grin that drew his parchment-like skin intofierce wrinkles; "we live in the same shack."

  Lew laughed with the rest, and when it died down observed--

  "Look here, Arizona, when you get talking 'hog' you stand alone. Thewhole Northwest bows to you on that subject. Now go and sit down likea peaceable citizen, and remember that a man who is such a master inthe craft of hog-raising, who has lived with 'em, bred 'em, fed on'em, and whose mental vision is bounded by 'em, has no right to downinoffensive, untutored souls like ourselves. It isn't generous."

  Arizona stood. He looked at the man; then he glanced at each facearound him and noted the smiles. One hand went up to his long, blackhair and he scratched his head, while his wild eyes settled themselveson Tresler's broadly grinning features. Suddenly he walked back to hisseat, took up his dish of hash and continued his supper, making afinal remark as he ate.

  "Langwidge? Gee! I pass."

  And during the rest of the meal "hog" found no place. They discussedthe topic of the day threadbare. The night-riders filled theirthoughts to the exclusion of all else, and Tresler learned the detailsof their recent exploits, and the opinion of each man on the outrages.Even Teddy Jinks, youthful and only "slushy" as he was, was listenedto, so absorbed were these men in their cattle world.

  "It's my belief," that reedy youth said, with profound finality,"they're working fer a bust up. I'd gamble one o' Arizona's hogs to ajunk o' sow-belly ther' ain't no more of them rustlers around come thefall. Things is hot, an' they're goin' to hit the trail, takin' allthey ken get right now."

  It was good to be listening to the rough talk of these fellows again.So good that Tresler prolonged this, his first meal with them aftersuch a long absence, to the last possible minute. Then he reluctantlyfilled his pipe, put away his plate and pannikin, and strolled over tothe barn in company with Arizona. He went to inspect his mare; he wasfond and justly proud of her. With all her vagaries of temper she wasa wonderful beast. Arizona had told him how she had brought both ofthem into the ranch from Willow Bluff on that memorable night.

  "Guess it's a real pity that sheriff feller hadn't got her when he hitRed Mask's trail," observed Arizona, while he watched Tresler gentlypass his hands over each leg in turn. "Clean, eh?" he asked presently.

  "Yes. The limbs of a race-horse. Has she been ridden while I've beensick?"

  "Nope; she's jest stood guzzlin' oats."

  "I shall have a time when I get into the saddle again."

  They moved out and stood at the door in full view of the house. Theevening was drawing in. The sun was on the horizon, and the purplenight shades were rising out over the eastern sky.

  "Arizona," Tresler said a little later, "I've got an unpleasant taskbefore me. I've just seen Marbolt pass the window of his den. I want afew words with him. I think I'll go now."

  "'Bout the leddy?" inquired the cowpuncher.

  "You've struck it."

  "Wal, git right along. I'd sooner it wus you than me, I guess. Howsum,I'll set right hyar. Mebbe I'll be handy ef you're wantin' me."

  Tresler laughed. "Oh, it's all right," he said. "I'm not dealing withJake."

  "Nope," replied the other, settling himself on a saddle-tree. Then,after a thoughtful pause, "which is regret'ble."

  Tresler walked away in the direction of the house. He was weak, anddid the journey slowly. Nor did he feel comfortable. However, he wasdoing what he knew to be right, and, as he ruefully reminded himself,it was seldom pleasant to do one's duty. His object was simply amatter of form, but one which omitt
ed would give Marbolt reason forsaying things. Besides, in justice to Danny and himself he must askher father's consent to their engagement. And as he thought of theuselessness of it he laughed bitterly to himself. Did not the rancherknow? And had he not fully explained his views on the matter?

  Arizona watched Tresler wabbling unsteadily toward the house andapplied many mental epithets of an uncomplimentary nature on his"foolheadedness." Then he was joined by Joe, who had also observedTresler's visit.

  The little man waved a hand in the direction of the retreating figure.

  "Wher's he goin'?" he asked.

  "Guess it's 'bout the leddy," replied Arizona, shortly.

  "An' he wus boosted out 'cause of her," the other said significantly."Kind o' minds you of one o' them terriers."

  "Yup. Or a cow wi' a ca'f."

  "On'y he don't make no fuss. Guess it's a terrier."

  And Joe accompanied his final decision with an emphatic nod.

  Meanwhile the object of their remarks had made his way to the houseand stood before the blind arbiter of his fate in the latter's littleoffice. The rancher was sitting at his table with his face directedtoward the window, and his red eyes staring at the glowing sunset. Andso he remained, in spite of Tresler's blunt announcement of himself.

  "It is necessary for me to see you, Mr. Marbolt," he said.

  And he stood waiting for his answer. It came, after some moments, ina tone that offered no encouragement, but was more civil than heexpected.

  "Since you say so, I suppose it is."

  Quite indifferent and certainly undaunted, Tresler proceeded--

  "You have already been informed how matters stand between yourdaughter and myself."

  "Yes."

  "I am here, then, to formally ask your consent to our engagement."

  The red eyes moved from their contemplation of the sunset, and theirdead, leech-like stare fixed itself upon the undisturbed face of thewould-be son-in-law.

  "Tresler," the man said, in a manner that left little to theimagination, "I have only one answer for you. You have becomeoffensive to me on this ranch, and I shall be glad if you will removeyourself as quickly as possible. I shall refund you the money you havepaid, and your agreement can be torn up."

  "Then you will not consider my proposal?"

  "I have already answered you."

  Tresler looked hard at the face before him. Mask-like as it was, ityet conveyed something of the fierce temper behind it. He was glad hesaw something of it, for he felt more justified in the heat of his ownfeelings. The man's words were a studied insult, and he was not one tosubmit to insults from anybody.

  "I emphatically refuse, then, to remove my offensive person," hereplied, with a great assumption of calmness. "Furthermore, I will notentertain the return of my premium. I am here for three years'instruction, already paid for. That instruction I demand. You willunderstand it is not in your power to have my offensive person removedeither legally or forcibly. The latter especially, since it would costyou far more than you would find it pleasant to pay."

  He expected to witness one of those outbursts of fury such as theblind man had recently displayed toward Jake in his presence. Butnothing of the kind happened. His manner remained the same.

  "I am sorry," he said, with something almost like a smile. "You driveme to an alternative, which, if less convenient, is perhaps, on thewhole, more satisfactory. My daughter will have to go. I was preparedfor this, and have already made arrangements for her to visit certainfriends this day fortnight, for an indefinite period. You quiteunderstand, Tresler, you will not see her again. She will remain awayuntil you leave here. Of course, in the meantime, should you take itinto your head to follow her, you are clear-headed enough to see thatyour agreement with me would be broken. Then she would return at once,and the question of force to keep you apart would be entirely in myhands. Further, I must tell you that while she is away she will beliving in an obscure settlement many miles from here, where allletters addressed to her will be opened before she receives them."

  The blind man turned away, indicating that the interview was ended,but Tresler stood his ground, though he fully realized how thoroughlythis man had outwitted him.

  "At least she will be happier away from here," he said significantly.

  "I don't know," retorted the other, with diabolical meaning.

  Tresler's exasperation could no longer be restrained. "Your conduct isinhuman to thus persecute a helpless girl, your daughter."

  "Ah, my daughter. Yes?"

  But the other gave no heed to the sneer. "You have no right to standbetween us," he went on angrily. "You have no reasonable grounds. Itell you straight I will not submit. When your daughter is of age Iwill take her from this home, which is no home to her, from you whohave never been a father to her."

  "True," assented the other, with an aggravating calmness.

  "You will have no power to interfere then. The law----"

  "Enough of this nonsense," the rancher interrupted, with his firstsign of impatience. "You'll never marry Diane while I live. Take itfrom me. Now--get out!"

  And somehow, in spite of himself, Tresler found himself outside thehouse and moving in the direction of the bunkhouse at the most rapidpace his weakness permitted. But before he reached his destinationJake intercepted him, and he had little doubt in his mind that the manhad seen him go to the house and had waited for his return.

  "Wal?" he said, drawling out his inquiry, as though the contemplationof the answer he would receive gave him more than ordinarysatisfaction. "Guess blind hulks is a pretty hard man to deal with,eh? You're goin' to quit us?"

  Tresler was in no mood for this man's sneers. "No," he said. "On thecontrary, I stay till my time's out."

  Jake could not conceal his surprise and chagrin. "You ain't quittin'?"

  "No." Tresler really enjoyed his discomfiture.

  "An' you're goin'----"

  "No." A thought suddenly occurred to him. He could hand something onto this man. "Miss Marbolt is going to be sent away until such time asI leave this ranch. Nearly three years, Jake," he finished upmaliciously.

  Jake stood thoughtfully contemplating the other's shrunken figure. Hedisplayed no feeling, but Tresler knew he had hit him hard.

  "An' she's goin', when?" he asked at last.

  "This day fortnight."

  "Ah. This day fortnight."

  After that Jake eyed his rival as though weighing him up in his mindalong with other things; then he said quietly--

  "Guess he'd best have sent her right now." And, with this enigmaticalremark, he abruptly went back to his shack.

  A week saw Tresler in the saddle again. His recuperative powers werewonderful. And his strength returned in a manner which filled hiscomrades with astonishment. Fresh air and healthy work served as farbetter tonics than anything the horse-doctor had given him.

  And the week, at least to Tresler, was full of portent. True, therustlers had been quiet, but the effect of their recent doings wasvery apparent. The sheriff was now in constant communication with theranch. Fyles visited Julian Marbolt frequently, holding longconsultations with him; and a significant fact was that his men madethe place a calling station. He realized that the long arm of the lawwas seriously at work, and he wondered in what direction the realobject lay, for he quite understood that these open movements, in allprobability, cloaked the real suspicions. Both he and Joe were ofopinion that the sheriff was acting on some secret information, andthey puzzled their heads to fathom the depths of the wily officer'smotives.

  Then happened something that Tresler had been expecting for some time.He had not seen Fyles to speak to since the Willow Bluff incident, andthis had caused him some wonder. Therefore, one day while out on adistant pasture, rounding up a small bunch of yearlings, he was in noway surprised to see the farmer-like figure of the sheriff appear overthe brow of a rising ground, and canter his raw-boned horse downtoward him.

  And that meeting was in the nature of an eye-opener to Tresler.
Helearned something of the machinery that was at work; of the system ofespionage that was going on over the whole district, and the subtlemeans of its employment. He learned, amongst other things, somethingof what Jake was doing. How he was in constant touch with a number ofhalf-breeds of the most disreputable type, and that his doings were ofthe most underground nature. He also learned that his own personalefforts in conveying warning before Willow Bluff were more thanappreciated, and, finally, that Fyles wanted him to further act inconcert with him.

  Acceding to the officer's request he was then informed of certainother things for his future guidance. And when the man had gone,disappearing again over the rising ground, in the same ghostly fashionthat he had appeared, he looked after him, and, in reviewing all hehad heard, marveled how little he had been told, but what a lot hadbeen suggested, and how devilish smart that farmer-like man, in spiteof his recent failures, really was.

  And during those days Tresler heard very little from Diane; whichlittle came from Joe Nelson. Now and again she sent him agrief-stricken note alluding to her departure. She told him, althoughJoe had done so already, that her father had brought Anton into thehouse for the express purpose of preventing any communication withhim, Tresler, and to generally keep sentry over her. She told him muchthat made his heart bleed for her, and made him spend hours at nightwriting pages of cheering messages to her. There was no help for it.He was powerless to do more than try to console her, and he frequentlyfound himself doubting if the course he had selected was the rightone; if he were not aggravating her position by remaining on theranch. His reason told him that it was surely best. If she had to goaway, she would, at least, be free of Jake, and, no matter whatcondition the people to whom she was to be sent, no worse associationsthan the combination of the blind man and his mate could possibly befound for her anywhere.

  It was a poor sort of consolation with which he bolstered himself, andhe spent many miserable hours during those last few days. Once he hadsaid to Joe, "If I could only see her for a few minutes it might besome measure of comfort to us both." But Joe had shaken his gray head."It ain't no use," he said. "You can't take no chances foolin' wi'Anton around. 'Sides, things might be wuss," he finished up, with aconsiderable emphasis.

  And so Tresler had to be content; ill at ease, chafing, but quitepowerless. In truth the rancher had outwitted him with a vengeance;moreover, what he had said he soon showed that he meant, for Joebrought him the news, two days before the date fixed for departure,that Diane was making her preparations, and had even begun to pack up.

  And all this time Jake was very cheerful. The men on the ranch neverremembered an easier time than the foreman was giving them now. Heinterfered very little with the work, and, except at the morningmuster, they hardly saw anything of him. Tresler he never came near.He seemed to have forgotten that he had ever discussed Anton with him.It may have been that that discussion had only been inspired on theimpulse of the moment, or it may have been--and Tresler thought thisfar more likely--he had deeper plans. However, the man, in face ofDiane's departure, was unusually cheerful, and the wise old Joequickly observed the fact.

  For Joe to observe anything of interest was the cue for him to inquirefurther, and thus he set himself to watch Jake. And his watchingquickly resulted in Tresler's attention being called to Jake'smovements at night. Joe found that night after night Jake left theranch, always on foot, but he left it for hours at a time. Twiceduring the last week he did not return until daylight. All this wasmore than interesting, but nothing developed to satisfy theircuriosity until the last day of Diane's stay on the ranch. Then Jakevisited her, and, taking her out of the kitchen, had a longconfabulation with her in the open. Joe watched them, but, much to hisdisgust, had no means of learning the man's object. However, there wasonly one thing for him to do, and he did it without delay: he hurrieddown to convey his news to Tresler, who was having supper at thebunkhouse.

  Taking him on one side he imparted his tidings hurriedly. And inconclusion spoke with evident alarm.

  "Ther's suthin' doin'," he said, in, for him, quite a condition ofexcitement. "I can't locate it nohow. But Jake, he's that queer. See,he's jest gone right into his shack. Ther's suthin' doin', sure."

  "And didn't you ask her what it was all about?" asked Tresler,catching something of the other's manner.

  "Wal, no. That is, I guess I mentioned it like, but Miss Dianny wusthat flustrated an' kind o' angry she jest went right up to her room,an' I thought best to git around hyar."

  Tresler was thinking hard; and while he thought he stood watching thedoor where they had both seen Jake disappear. It occurred to him to goand seek Diane for himself. Poor girl, she would surely tell him ifthere were anything wrong. After all, he had the right to know. Thenhe thought of Anton.

  "Was Anton----?"

  He had turned to Joe, but his remark was cut short. Jake's doorsuddenly opened and the foreman came hurriedly out. Joe caught hiscompanion by the arm, and they both looked after the giant as hestrode away toward the barn. And they simultaneously became aware ofsomething unsteady in his gait. Joe was the first to draw attention toit.

  "Say, he's bin drinkin'," he whispered, in an awed manner.

  Tresler nodded. This was something quite new. Jake, with all hisfaults, was not usually given to drink. On the contrary, he was aparticularly sober man.

  Tresler swiftly made up his mind. "I'm going to see what's up, Joe,"he said. "Do you see? He's making for Marbolt's stable."

  It was almost dusk. The men had settled down to their evening'soccupations. Tresler and Joe were standing alone in the shadow of thebunkhouse wall. The lamp was lit within the building, and the glowfrom the window, which was quite near them, darkened the prospectstill further. However, Tresler still could see the foreman, anindistinct shadow in the growing darkness.

  Leaving his companion without further remark he hurried after thedisappearing man and took up his position near the barn, whence hecould both see and hear what might be going forward.

  Jake reached the door of the stable and knocked on it in a forcefuland peremptory manner.