The One-Way Trail: A story of the cattle country

by Ridgwell Cullum

  CHAPTER XVII

  THE WORKING OF THE PUBLIC MIND

  The month following Will's departure from the village saw stirringtimes for the citizens of Barnriff.

  The exploding of Dan McLagan's bombshell in their midst was only thebeginning; a mere herald of what was to follow. Excitement afterexcitement ran riot, until the public mind was dazed, and the onlything that remained clear to it was that crime and fortune were racingneck and neck for possession of their community.

  The facts were simple enough in themselves, but the complexity oftheir possibilities was a difficult problem which troubled Barnriffnot a little.

  In the first instance McLagan's alarm set everybody agog. Then asystematic wave of cattle-stealing set in throughout the district. Norwere these depredations of an extensive nature. Cattle disappeared insmall bunches of from ten to forty head, but the persistence withwhich the thefts occurred soon set the aggregate mounting up to alarge figure.

  The "AZ's" lost two more bunches of cattle within a week. The"[diamond] P's" followed up with their quota of forty head, which set"old man" Blundell raving through the district like a mad bull. Thencame a raid on the "U--U's." Sandy McIntosh cursed the rustlers in thebroadest Scotch, and set out to scour the country with his boys.Another ranch to suffer was the "crook-bar," but they, like the"TT's," couldn't tell the extent of their losses definitely, andestimated them at close on to thirty head of three-year-old beeves.

  The village seethed, furious with indignation. For years Barnriff hadbeen clear of this sort of thing, and, as a consequence, the place hadbeen left to bask in the sun of commercial prosperity consequent uponthe thriving condition of the surrounding ranches. Now, thatprosperity was threatened. If the ranches suffered Barnriff mustsuffer with them. Men spoke of a vigilance committee. But they spokeof it without any real enthusiasm. The truth was they were afraid ofinaugurating an affair of that sort. There was scarcely a man in theplace but had at some time in his life felt the despotic tyranny of avigilance committee. Though they felt that such an organization wasthe only way to cope with the prevailing trouble they cordiallydreaded it.

  Then, in the midst of all this to-do, came the news of Will's richstrike in the hills. He had discovered a "placer" which was yielding aprofit of fabulous dimensions. Of how rich his strike really was noone seemed to possess any very definite information. In the calm lightof day men spoke of a handsome living wage, but, as the day wore on,and Silas Rocket's whiskey did its work, Will's possible wealthgenerally ended in wild visions of millions of dollars.

  Under this inspiring news the commercial mind of Barnriff was stirred;it was lifted out of the despondency into which the news of thecattle-stealing had plunged it. It cleaned off its rust and began tooil its joints and look to its tools. With the first news it,metaphorically, "reared up." Then Will came into town with a bag ofdust and nuggets, and the optical demonstration set lips smacking andeyes gleaming with envy and covetousness. They asked "Where?" But Willshook his head with a cunning leer. Let them go and seek it as he hadto do, he said. And forthwith his advice was acted upon by no lessthan a dozen men, who promptly abandoned profitable billets for thepursuit of the elusive yellow ore.

  Two weeks later Will again visited the village. This time he staggeredthe folks by taking his wife to Abe Horsley's store, and spending twohundred dollars in dry-goods and draperies for her. He flashed a "wad"of bills that dazzled the lay-preacher's eyes, and talked of buying aranch and building himself a mansion on it.

  Nor did he visit the saloon. He was sober, and looked the picture ofhealth and cheerfulness. He talked freely of his strike and itspossibilities. He swaggered and patronized his less fortunate fellowtownsmen, until he had them all by the ears and set them tumbling overeach other to get out after the gold.

  He was followed and watched. Men shadowed his every movement in thehope of discovering his mine, but he was too clever for them. Theykept his trail to the hills, but there he quickly lost them. He nevertook the same route twice, and, on one occasion, traveled for threedays and nights, due north, before entering the foot-hills. He was aselusive as the very gold his pursuers sought.

  One by one the would-be prospectors returned disappointed to thevillage, and again took up their various works, forced to the sorryconsolation of listening to the tales of Will's wealth, and watchinghim occasionally run in to the village and scatter his money broadcastamongst the storekeepers.

  Of all Barnriff Peter Blunt seemed the least disturbed. He went calmlyon with his work, smiling gently whenever spoken to on the subject.And his reply was invariably the same.

  "I'm not handling 'placer,'" he told Doc Crombie one day, when thatstrenuous person was endeavoring to "pump" him on the subject. "Iallow 'placers' are easy, and make a big show. But my 'meat' is highgrade ore that's going to work for years. His strike don't interest mea heap, except it proves there's gold in plenty around these parts."

  Nor could he be drawn into further discussion in the matter.

  Yet his interest was far greater than he admitted. He was puzzled,too. He could not quite make out how he had missed the signs ofalluvial deposit. Both scientifically and practically he was a masterof his hobby, in spite of local opinion. Yet he had missed this richhaul under his very nose. That was his interest as a gold miner. Butthere was another side to it, which occupied his thoughts even more.And it was an interest based on his knowledge of Will Henderson,and--various other things.

  He was out at a temporary camp at one of his cuttings with Elia, who,since his first sojourn with the prospector, now frequently joined himin his work. They had just finished dinner, and Peter was smoking andresting. Elia was perched like a bird on an upturned box, watching hisfriend with cold, thoughtful eyes. Suddenly he blurted out anirrelevant remark.

  "Folks has quit chasin' Will Henderson," he said.

  "Eh?"

  Peter stared at him intently. He was becoming accustomed to thecurious twists of the lad's warped mind, but he wondered what he wasnow driving at.

  "He's too slim for 'em," Elia went on, gazing steadily into the fire."He's slim, an'--bad. But he ain't as bad as me."

  Peter smiled at the naive confession.

  "You're talking foolishly," he said, in a tone his smile belied.

  "Maybe I am. Say, I could track Will."

  "Well?"

  "I'm goin' to. But I'll need your help. See here, Peter, I'll need toget away from sis, an' if I get out without sayin', she'll set halfthe village lookin' to find me. If I'm with you, she won't. See?"

  Peter nodded.

  "But why do you want to track him?"

  "'Cause he's bad--an' ain't got no 'strike.' He's on some crook'swork. Maybe he's cattle duffin'. I mean to find out."

  Peter's eyes grew cold and hard, and the boy watching him read what hesaw with a certainty that was almost uncanny.

  "You've been thinking that always, too," he said. "You don't believein his strike, neither," he added triumphantly.

  "I don't see why I shouldn't," replied Peter, guardedly.

  "Yes, you do," the boy persisted. "It's because he's bad. Say, he'smakin' Eve bad takin' that money he sends her. An' she don't knowit."

  "And supposing it's as you say--and you found out?"

  "The boys 'ud hang him. And--and Eve would be quit of him."

  "And you'd break her heart. She's your sister, and would sooner cutoff her right hand than hurt you."

  Elia laughed silently. There was a fiendishness in his manner that wasabsolutely repulsive.

  "Guess you're wrong," he said decidedly. "It wouldn't break Eve'sheart worth a cent. She don't care a cuss for him, since--since thatnight. Eve's a heap high-toned in her notions. He hit her. He nighkilled her. She ain't one to fergit easy." He laughed again. "I kensee clear through Eve. If Will was dead, in six months she'd marryagin. D'ye know who? Jim Thorpe. She's jest a fool gal. She's allusliked Jim a heap. That night's stickin' in her head. She ain't fergotJim--nor you. Say, d'you know what she's doin'? When Will sends he
rmoney she sets it aside an' don't touch it. She don't buy things forherself. She hates it. She lives on her sewin'. That's Eve. I tell youshe hates Will, same as I do, an' I'm--I'm glad."

  Peter smiled incredulously. He didn't believe that the girl's love forher husband was dead. Possibly her attitude deceived the lad, as wellit might. How could one of his years understand a matter of this sort?But he thought long before he replied to the venomous tirade. He knewhe must stop the lad's intention. He felt that it was not for him tohunt Will down, even--even if he were a cattle-thief.

  "Look here, laddie," he said at last, "I promised you all the gold Ifound in this place. I'm going to keep that promise, but you've got todo something for me. See? Now I'm not going to say you can't trackWill if you've a notion to. But I do say this, if he's on the crook,and you find it out, you'll promise only to tell me and no one else.You leave Will to me. I'm not going to have you hanging your sister'shusband. You've got to promise me, laddie, or you don't see the colorof my gold. And don't you try to play me up, either, because I'll soonknow if you are. Are you going to have that gold?"

  The boy's face was obstinately set. Yet Peter realized that hiscupidity was fighting with the viciousness of his twisted mind, andhad no doubt of the outcome. The thought of seeing Will hang was adelirious joy to Elia. He saw the man he hated suffering, writhing inagony at the end of a rope, and dying by inches. It was hard to giveit up. Yet the thought of Peter's gold--not the man himself, of whom,in his strange fashion, he was fond--was very sweet. Gold! It appealedto him, young as he was, as it might have appealed to a mind fortyyears older; the mind of a man beaten by poverty and embittered by along life of hopeless struggle. Finally, as Peter expected, cupiditywon the day, but not without a hot verbal protest.

  "You're a fool man some ways, Peter," the boy at last declared in asnarling acquiescence. "What for d'you stop me? Gee, you've nothing tohelp him for. Say, I'd watch him die, I'd spit at him. I'd--I'd----"But his frenzy of evil joy made it impossible for him to find furtherwords. He broke off, and, a moment later, went on coldly: "All right,I'll do as you say. Gee, but it makes me sick. Eh? No. I won't tellother folk. Nor Eve--but--but you're goin' to give me that gold, an'I'll be rich. Say, I'll be able to buy buggies, an' hosses, an'ranches, an' things? I'll be able to have plenty folks workin' for me?Gee! I'll make 'em work. I'll make 'em sick to death when I get thatgold."

  Peter rose abruptly to return to work. The boy's diseased mindnauseated him. His heart revolted with each fresh revelation of theterrible degeneracy that possessed the lad.