The Sagebrusher: A Story of the West

by Emerson Hough

  CHAPTER XIV

  THE MAN TRAIL

  "What do you think of him, Wid?" asked Sim Gage after a time, when theywere well on their way homeward in the late afternoon.

  "Looks like a good doctor, all right," replied Wid. "Clean-cut andstrictly on to his game. I reckon he got plenty practice in the war.I'm sorry neither of us was young enough to git into that war. Yourleg hurt much now?"

  "Say yes!" replied Sim. "You know, I reckon we didn't get there anytoo soon with that leg. Fine lot of us, up to my house, huh? Me laidup, and her can't see a wink on earth."

  "And yet you said I couldn't come over and see her. So there you are,both alone."

  "Well, it's this way, Wid, and you know it," insisted his friend. "Thegirl is right strange there yet--it's a plumb hard thing to figure out.We got to get her gentled down some. There's been a hell of amisunderstanding all around, Wid, we got to admit that. And we're allto blame for it."

  "Well, she's to blame too, ain't she?"

  "No, she _ain't_! I won't let no man say that. She's just done thebest she knew how. Women sometimes don't know which way to jump."

  "She didn't make none too good a jump out here," commented his friend."Has she ever told you anything about herself yet?"

  "Not to speak of none, no. She sets and cries a good deal. Says she'sbroke and blind and all alone. She's got one friend back home--girlshe used to room with, but she's going to get married, and so she, thislady, Miss Warren, comes out here plumb desperate, not knowing whatkind of a feller I am, or what kind of a place this is--which is both adamn shame, Wid, and you know it. I say I'm up against it right now."

  "The real question, Sim, is what are folks going to say? There'speople in this valley that ain't a-going to stand it for you and thatgirl to live there unless you're married. You know that."

  "Of course I know that. But do you suppose I'd marry that girl even ifshe was willing? No, sir, I wouldn't--not a-tall. It wouldn't beright."

  "Now listen, Sim. Leave it to me. I'd say that if you ever do want toget married, Sim--and you got to if she stays here--why, here's the oneand only chancet of your whole life. Of course, if the girl wasn'tblind, she wouldn't never marry you. I don't believe any woman would,real. The way she is, and can't see, maybe she will, after a while,like, when she's gentled down, as you say. It looks like a act ofProvidence to me."

  "Well," said Sim, pondering, "I hadn't just thought of it that way. Doyou believe in them things--acts of Providence?"

  "I don't believe in nothing much except we're going to get into campmighty late to-night. It's getting sundown, and I ain't keen to cutwood in the dark."

  "I'll tell you what, Wid," said Sim suddenly relenting. "You come ondown to our house to-night. I'll introduce you to her after all--MissWarren. It ain't no more'n fair, after all."

  Wid only nodded. They pushed along up the road until finally theyarrived, within a few miles of their own homesteads, at the littleroadside store and postoffice kept by old Pop Bentley. They would havepulled up here, but as they approached the dusty figure of the mailcarrier of that route came out, and held up a hand.

  "Hold on, Sim," said he. "I heard at Nels Jensen's place that you hadgone down the river. Well, it's time you was gettin' back."

  Sim Gage smiled with a sense of his own importance as he took theletter, turning it over in his hand. "What's it say, Wid?" said he.

  His neighbor looked at the inscription. "It's for her," said he."Miss Mary Warren, in care of Sim Gage, Two Forks, Montany."

  "Who's it from?" said Sim. "Here's some writing on the back."

  "From Annie B. Squires, 9527 Oakford Avenue, Cleveland, Ohio. Butlisten----"

  "That's the girl that Miss Warren told me about!" said Sim. "That's aletter from her. I'd better be getting back."

  "I just told you you had," said the mail driver, something of pity inhis tone. "I'm trying to tell you _why_ you had. Why I brought thisletter down is, you ain't _got_ no place to get back _to_."

  "What you mean?" said Wid Gardner suddenly.

  "Hell's loose in this valley to-day," said the mail carrier. "Fivefires, when I come through before noon. Wid, your house is gone, andyour barn, too. Sim, somebody's burned your hay and your barn, andshot your stock, and set your house afire--it would of burned plumbdown if Nels Jensen hadn't got there just in time. They saved thehouse. It wasn't burned very much anyways, so Nels told me."

  Sim Gage and his companion, stupefied, sat looking at the bearer ofthis news.

  "Who done it?" asked Wid Gardner grimly after a time. "That ain't noaccident."

  "Pop Bentley in here said Big Aleck, the squatter, come up the valleythis morning right early----"

  "That hellion!" exclaimed Sim. "He's always made trouble in thisvalley. We seen him down below here, driving a broad-tire wagon."

  "Yes, a Company wagon, and a Company team. We found that wagon hitchedabove your lane, Sim. Your mail box was busted down. There wasn't noBig Aleck around, nor no one else."

  "Not no one else?--_No one in the house_?"

  "Nels said there wasn't."

  "Light down, Sim," said Wid. "Let's go in and talk to Pop Bentley."

  Pop Bentley, the keeper of the meager grocery store and little-usedpost-office, met them with gravity on his whiskered face. He was atall and thin man, much stooped, who, as far as the memory of man, hadalways lived here in Two-Forks Valley.

  "Well, you heard the news, I reckon," said he to his neighbors. Bothmen nodded.

  "Big Aleck told me he was working on the Government job. He said hewas going on up with his team to help finish some roads."

  "Well, if it was him," said Wid Gardner, "or any one else, we'rea-goin' to find out who it was done this. We been hearing a long whileabout the free Industrials, whatever the damned Bolsheviks calltheirselves. They wander around now and won't settle. Hobos, I callthem, no more, but crazy ones. They threatened to burn all the hay inthe settlements below, and to wipe out all the wheat crop. Why? Theybeen busting up threshing machines acrosst the range--the paper's beenfull of it. Why? They've got in here, and that's all about it. Well,fellers, you reckon we're goin' to stand fer this sort of Bolshevikbusiness on the Two-Forks?"

  "I say, Pop," broke in Sim Gage to the postmaster, with singularirrelevance at this time, "haven't you got a litter of pups around heresomewheres, and a couple hens I can buy? I'm lookin' fer a dog, andthings."

  "Yard's full of pups, man. If you want one help yourself. But hens,now----"

  "Sell me two or three hens and a rooster or so. I promised I'd take'em home, and I plumb forgot."

  Pop Bentley threw up his hands at his feckless neighbor. "You'd betterbe getting a _place_ fer your hens and dogs, seems like."

  Sim put a forefinger to his puckered lip. "I don't know as I want totake more'n about one pup now, and three or four hens. I'll fix up theprice with you sometime. Yes, I got to be getting home now."

  The mail carrier, the postmaster and Sim's friend looked at one anotheras these details went forward.

  "Well," said Pop Bentley, shrugging his bent shoulders, "if you wouldgo away and leave a woman alone in a place like that----"

  "What do you mean?" said Sim Gage suddenly.

  "Why, that woman ain't _there_ no more, you fool. She's gone!"

  "Gone? What do you mean?"

  "Whoever set fire to your place took her away, or else she's got lostsomewheres."

  "Gone?" said Sim Gage. "Blind! You, Wid!"--he turned upon his friendhalf-savagely--"you was talking to me about acts of Providence. Thereain't no such thing as Providence if this here's true. Come on--I gotto get home."

  They did start home, at a gallop, Sim half unconscious of what he did,carrying in his arm an excited puppy, impetuously licking his newmaster's hands and face. In the bottom of the wagon lay a disregardedsack with a half-dozen fowl, their heads protruding through holes cutfor that purpose. Sim never knew how or when they got into the w
agon.

  At the next gate, that of Nels Jensen's homestead, Sim's neighborbelow, the woman of the place came running. "You heard aboutit?--You're all burned out, both of you."

  "Yes, we know," said Wid, nodding. "Tell Nels to come on up to Sim'splace early in the morning. We're going to get the neighborstogether." Again the tired team was forced into a dull gallop.

  They had not far to go. A turn of the road freed them of the screen ofwillows. There lay before them in the evening light, long prolonged atthis season in that latitude, that portion of the valley which thesetwo neighbors owned. For a moment they sat silent.

  "Mine's gone," said Wid succinctly. "Not a thing left."

  Sim sat clasping the puppy in his arms as he turned to look at his ownhomestead.

  "Mine's gone too," said he. "Barn's burned, and all the hay. House isthere, anyhow. Lemme out, Wid."

  "No, hold on," said his neighbor. "There's no hurry for me to go home,now that's sure. Your leg's bad, Sim. I'll take you down."

  So they drove down Sim Gage's lane between the wire fence and thewillows. Sim was looking eagerly ahead. Continually he moaned tohimself low, as if in pain. But the hard-faced man on the seat besidehim knew it was not in physical pain.

  They fastened the team and hurried on about, searching the premises.The barn was gone, and the hay. Two or three head of slaughtered stocklay partially consumed, close to the hay stack. The house still stood,for the dirt roof had stopped the flames which were struggling up fromthe door frame along the heavy logs.

  "The damn, murdering thieves," said Wid Gardner. "Look, Sim--yourhorse and mule was both killed in there." He pointed to the burnedbarn. "What _made_ them? What do they gain by this? _I_ know!"

  But Sim Gage was hobbling to his half-burnt home. Gasping, he lookedin. It was empty!

  "Where's she gone, Wid?" said he, when he could speak. "You reckon BigAleck--? No. No!"

  "Nothing's too low down for him," said Wid Gardner.

  There were footprints in the path where the neighbors had stood, butSim's eye caught others not trampled out, in the strip of sand towardthe willows--two footprints, large, and beside them two others, small.The two, old big-game hunters as they were, began to puzzle out thisdouble trail.

  "He was a-leading her out this way, Sim," said Wid, pointing. "Looka-yonder, where we come in--them wheel tracks wasn't yours nor mine.Now, look-a-here, in this little open place where the ants has ate itclean--here's her footprints, right here. No use to hunt the creek orthe willers, Sim--she's went off in a wagon."

  "He took my six-shooter," said Sim, who had hurriedly examined theinterior of his home. "Nothing else is gone. Wait while I go git myrifle. It's in the tent."

  When he had returned with rifle and belt, Wid turned towards him."I'll tell you, Sim," said he, "we'll run over to my place and lookaround, and come back here and eat before it gets plumb dark. I'llsaddle up and pass the word."

  They climbed back into the wagon seat and once more passed out alongSim Gage's little lane. At the end, where it joined the main road, Widpulled up.

  "Look yonder, Sim!" said he. "There's where that broad-tire wagon wastied."

  "The road's full of all sorts of tracks," said Sim, looking down, riflein hand, from his seat. He carried the puppy again in his arms, andthe hens still were expostulating in the bottom of the wagon. "Is themcar tracks?"

  "A car could be a hundred and fifty miles away by now," said Wid.

  They passed on to Wid Gardner's gate. It was wide open. There werewheel tracks there, also, of some sort.

  The ruin of this homestead also was complete. The last stack of hay,the barn, house, all, were burned to the ground.

  "Well, that's all I want here," said Wid, sighing. "We'll stop at yourplace for a spell, Sim--that's the best thing we can do."

  "But look here!" he went on, his eyes running along the ground. "Beena car in here--this wasn't a wagon--it was a car! There must of beenmore'n one of 'em."

  "Uh huh," said Sim, climbing down stiffly from the wagon seat now andjoining him in the task of puzzling out the trail. They followed it toa place where some ashes had been trodden in the yard. Here the wheelsof the car had left their clearest record.

  "Not a big one," said Wid. "Ragged tire on the nigh hind wheel. Seethis?"

  They ran the trail on out to the gate, picking it up here and there,catching it plain in the loose sand which covered the gravel road bed.

  "Whoever done the work at my place," said Sim, "was drunk. Look how hebusted down my mail box."

  "Look how this car was running here," assented Wid. "You set here bythe gate, Sim, and hold the team. I want to run up the road a piece towhere the timber trail turns up the canyon."

  "Sure, Wid," said Sim. "I can't walk good."

  It was half an hour or more before his friend had returned from hishasty scout further along the road, and by that time it was dark.

  "That's where they went, Sim," said Wid Gardner. "I seen the track ofthat busted tire plain in the half-dried mud, little ways up the trail.Whoever it was done this, has went right up there. When we get a fewof the fellers together we'll start. To-morrow morning, early."

  "To-morrow!" said Sim. "Why, Wid----"

  Wid Gardner laid a hand on his friend's shoulder. "It's the best wecan do, Sim," said he.

  Without more speech they drove once more along Sim Gage's lane. Asthey approached the entrance, Sim turned. "Hold up a minute, Wid,"said he, "while I look over here where the wagon was tied."

  He limped across the road, bent to examine the marks dimly visible inthe half darkness.

  "Look-a-here," said he, "there's been a car here too--the same car,with the busted tire! They come up in that wagon from my place afterthey burned me out. They must of taken her out of the wagon and puther in the car, and like you say, they're maybe a couple of hundredmiles away by now. Oh, my God A'mighty, Wid, what has you and me doneto that pore girl!"

  Wid only laid the large hand again on his shoulder. "It'll besquared," said he.

  Their rude meal was prepared in silence, and eaten in silence. SimGage felt in his pocket, and drawing out the letter he had received,smoothed out the envelope on the table top.

  "It's addressed to her, Wid," said he after a time, "and she ain'there."

  "I don't see why we oughtn't to open it and read it," said Wid. "Someone'd have to anyhow, if she was here, for she couldn't read, herself."

  Sim, by means of a table knife, opened the envelope.

  "You read it, Wid," said he. "You can read better'n I can." And soWid accepted Sim's conventional fiction, knowing he could neither readnor write.

  "Dear Mary," said Anne's letter, "I got to write to you. I wisht youhadn't went away when you did and how you did, for, Mary, I feel somuch alone.

  "You know when you started out I was joking you about CharlieDorenwald. I told you, even if you did have an inside chance you maybemight not be married any sooner than I was. That was just a littlewhile ago. So far as it's all concerned you can come right on back.There's nothing doing now between Charlie and I.

  "You know he was foreman in the factory. He ought to of had money laidup but he didn't. On Installments I'd soon have got a place fixed up,though Charlie and me was going to fix it up on Installments. But Igot to talking with him, right away after you had left, it was allabout the war and I said to him, 'Charlie, why didn't you go over?' Hesays one thing and he says another. Well you know that sort of got mestarted and at last we had it, and do you know when he got rattled hebegan to talk Dutch to me? Well, I talked turkey to him. One thingand another went on and Charlie and me we split up right there.

  "'I couldn't join the army noways,' he says, 'they wouldn't take me. Ihad flat feet.'

  "'You got a flat tire, that's what ails you,' I says to him, 'Well nowI wouldn't marry you at all, not if you was the last man, which youlook to me like you was.'

  "Well, the way he talked, Mary, I wouldn't b
e surprised if he wasmarried already anyhow. One of the girls said he'd been living withanother woman not four blocks off. He ain't hurt none and I don't knowas I am neither although of course a girl feels mortified that peoplethink she's going to get married and then she ain't.

  "But I'm thinking of you. I've gone back in our old room where it'scheaper and let them take back the Installment furniture. I ain't gota thing to do after hours except read the papers. The country's allstirred up. But anyhow I'm rid of my Dutch patriot. That's why I'mwriting to you now.

  "I wonder what you're doing out there. Are you married yet? What didhe look like, Mary? I know he's a good man after all, kind andchivalrous like he said. If he wasn't you'd be wiring me telling mewhen you was coming home. I guess you're too happy to write to anybodylike me. You'll have a Home of your own.

  "And all the time I thought I was stronger than you was and abler toget on and here you are married and happy and me back in the old room!But don't worry none about me--I'll get another job. The most is Imiss you so much and you haven't wrote me a word I suppose. When agirl gets married all the girls is crazy to hear all about her and herhusband and I haven't heard a word from you.

  "Respectfully your friend,

  "Annie Squires."

  The two men sat for a time. Wid reached in his pocket for his pipe.

  "By God! she come out here maybe to get married, on the level andhonest, after a while!" said he. "She'll have to, now!"

  "That's what I was thinking, Wid," said Sim Gage. "It's--it'schivalerous. We got to find her, now."