Shoe-Bar Stratton

by Joseph Bushnell Ames

  CHAPTER XX

  CATASTROPHE

  The discovery galvanized Stratton into instant, alert attention.Motor-cars were rare in this remote range country and confined almostsolely to the sort of "flivver" which is not entirely dependent on roads.The presence in the north pasture of this powerful gray machine, whichcertainly did not belong in the neighborhood, was more than significant,and Buck tried at once to get a view of the occupants.

  In this he was not successful. There were three of them, one in thedriver's seat and two others in the tonneau. But the top prevented morethan a glimpse of the latter, while the cap and goggles of the chauffeurleft visible only a wedge of brick-red, dust-coated skin, a thin,prominent nose and a wisp of wiry black mustache.

  One thing was certain--the fellow knew his job. Under his masterlyguidance the big car plowed steadily through the clogging sand, avoidingobstructions or surmounting them with the least possible expenditure ofpower, never once stalled, and, except for a necessary slight divergencenow and then, held closely to its northwesterly course across the desert.

  Buck, who had driven under the worst possible battle-front conditions,fully appreciated the coaxing, the general manoeuvering, the constantdelicate manipulation of brake and throttle necessary to produce thisresult. But his admiration of the fellow's skill was swiftly swallowed upin eager curiosity and speculation.

  Who were they? What were they doing here? Where were they going? At firsthe had a momentary fear lest they should see him perched up here on hispoint of vantage. Then he realized that the backing of rocks prevented hisfigure from showing against the skyline, which, together with the distanceand the clouds of dust stirred up by the car itself, made the dangeralmost negligible. So he merely dismounted and, leaning against his horse,kept the glasses riveted on the slowly moving machine.

  The car advanced steadily until it reached a point about a quarter of amile from the rough ground and a little distance north of where Buckstood. Then it stopped, and a capped and goggled head was thrust out ofthe tonneau. Buck could make out nothing definite about the face save thatit was smooth-shaven and rather heavy-jowled. He was hoping that thefellow would alight from the car and show himself more plainly but to hisdisappointment the head was presently drawn back and the machine crepton, swerving a little so that it headed almost due north.

  Ten minutes later it halted again, and this time the two men got out andwalked slowly over the sand. Both were clad in long dust-coats, and oneseemed stouter and heavier than the other. Unfortunately they were too farbeyond the carrying power of the binoculars to get anything more clearly,and Buck swore and fretted and strained his eyes in vain. After a delay ofnearly an hour, he saw the car start again, and followed its blurred imageuntil it finally disappeared beyond an out-thrust spur well to thenorthward.

  Stratton lowered his glasses and stood for a moment or two rubbing hiscramped arm absently. His face was thoughtful, with a glint of excitementin his eyes. Presently his shoulders straightened resolutely.

  "Anyhow, I can follow the tracks of the tires and find out what they'vebeen up to," he muttered.

  The difficulty was to descend from his rocky perch, and it proved to be nosmall one. He might have clambered down the face of the cliff, but thatwould mean abandoning his horse. In the end he was forced to retrace hissteps along the twisting ledge by which he had come.

  From his knowledge of the country to the south, Buck had started out withthe idea that it would be simple enough to reach the flats through one ofthe many gullies and canyons that fringed the margin of the hills furtherdown. He had not counted on the fact that as the range widened it splitinto two distinct ridges, steep and declivitous on the outer edges, withthe space between them broken up into a network of water-worn gullies andarroyos.

  "I ought to have known from the look of the north pasture that all thewater goes the other way," he grumbled. "Best thing I can do is to headfor that trail Bud spoke of that cuts through to the T-T ranch. It can'tbe so very far north."

  It wasn't, as the crow flies, but Buck was no aviator. He was forced totake a most tortuous, roundabout route, and when he finally emerged on thefirst passable track heading approximately in the right direction, the sunwas low and there seemed little chance of his accomplishing his purpose inthe few hours of daylight remaining.

  Still, he kept on. At least he was mapping out a route which would beeasily and swiftly followed another time. And if darkness threatened, hecould return to his little camp through the open Shoe-Bar pastures, whereneither Lynch nor his men were at all likely to linger after dusk.

  The trail followed a natural break in the hills and, though not especiallydifficult under foot, was twisting and irregular, full of sharp descentsand equally steep upward slopes. Buck had covered about two miles and wasgrowing impatient when he came to the hardest climb he had yet encounteredand swung himself out of the saddle.

  "No use killing you, Pete, to save a little time," he commented, givingthe horse's sweaty neck a slap. "I'd like to know how the devil those twoever drove a steer through here."

  It did seem as if this must have been uncommonly difficult. The trailcurved steeply around the side of a hill, following a ledge similar to theone Buck had taken earlier in the afternoon with such interesting results.There was width enough for safety, but on one side the rocks rose sharplyto the summit of the hill, while on the other there was a sheer drop intoa gulch below, which, at the crown of the slope, must have been fifty orsixty feet at least.

  Leading the horse, Buck plodded on in a rather discouraged fashion untilhe had covered about three-quarters of the distance to the top. Then of asudden his pace quickened, as a bend in the trail revealed hopefulglimpses of open spaces ahead. It was nothing really definite--merely afalling away of the hills on either side and a wide expanse ofunobstructed sky beyond, but it made him feel that he was at last comingout of this rocky wilderness. A moment or two later he gained the summitof the slope and his eyes brightened as they rested on the section ofsandy, cactus-dotted country spread out below him.

  A dozen feet ahead the trail curved sharply around a rocky buttress, whichhid the remainder of it from view. In his eagerness to see what laybeyond, Stratton did not mount but led his horse over the short stretch oflevel rock. But as he turned the corner, he caught his breath and jerkedback on Pete's reins.

  By one of those freaks of nature that are often so surprising, the trailled straight down to level ground with almost the regularity of some workof engineering. At the foot of it stood the gray motor-car--empty!

  The sight of it, and especially that unnatural air of complete desertion,instantly aroused in Buck a sense of acute danger. He turned swiftly toretreat, and caught a glimpse of a figure crouching in a little rockyniche almost at his elbow.

  There was no time to leap back or forward; no time even to stir. Alreadythe man's arm was lifted, and though Stratton's hand jerked automaticallyto his gun, he was too late.

  An instant later something struck his head with crushing force andcrumpled him to the ground.

  * * * * *

  When Buck began to struggle out of that black, bottomless abyss ofcomplete oblivion, he thought at first--as soon as he could think atall--that he was lying in his bunk back at the Shoe-Bar. What gave him theidea he could not tell. His head throbbed painfully, and his brain seemedto swim in a vague, uncertain mist. A deadly lassitude gripped him, makingall movement, even to the lifting of his eyelids, an exertion too great tobe considered.

  But presently, when his brain had cleared a little, he became aware ofvoices. One in particular seemed, even in his dreamlike state, to stinginto his consciousness with a peculiar, bitter instinct of hatred. When atlength he realized that it was the voice of Tex Lynch, the discovery had acuriously reviving effect upon his dazed senses. He could not yet rememberwhat had happened, but intuitively he associated his helplessness with theforeman's presence, and that same instinct caused him to make a desperateattempt to under
stand what the man was saying. At first the fellow's wordsseemed blurred and broken, but little by little their meaning grew clearerto the injured man.

  "... ain't safe ... suspects somethin' ... snoopin' around ever since ...thought he was up to somethin' ... saw him up on that ledge watchin' yuh... dead sure. I had a notion he'd ride around to this trail, 'cause it'sthe only way down to north pasture. I tell yuh, Paul, he's wise, an' he'llspill the beans sure. We got to do it."

  "I don't like it, I tell you!" protested a shrill, high-pitched voicequerulously. "I can't stand blood."

  "Wal, all yuh got to do is go back to the car an' wait," retorted Lynch."I ain't so partic'lar. Besides," his tone changed subtly, "his head'ssmashed in an' he's sure to croak, anyhow. It would be an act of kindness,yuh might say."

  "I don't like it," came again in the shrill voice. "I'd--hear the shot.I'd know what you were doing. It would be on my--my conscience. I'ddream-- If he's going to--to die, as you say, why not just--leave himhere?"

  An involuntary shudder passed over Stratton. It had all come back, andwith a thrill of horror he realized that they were talking about him. Theywere discussing his fate as calmly and callously as if he had been a steerwith a broken leg. A feeble protest trembled on his lips, but was chokedback unuttered. He knew how futile any protest would be with Tex Lynch.

  "Yeah!" the latter snarled. "An' have somebody come along an' find him!Like as not he'd hang on long enough to blab all he knows, an' then wherewould we be? Where would we be even if somebody run acrost his body? Iain't takin' no chances like that, I'll tell the world!"

  "But isn't there some other way?" faltered the high-pitched voice.

  In the brief pause that followed, Stratton dragged his lids open. He waslying where he had fallen at the curve in the trail. Tex Lynch stood closebeside him. A little beyond, leaning against the rocky cliff, was a bulkyfigure in a long dust-coat. He had pushed up his motor-goggles and waswiping his forehead with a limp handkerchief. His round, fat face, withpursed-up lips and wide-open light-blue eyes, bore the expression of afretful child. On his left was a lean, thin-faced fellow with a blackmustache who looked scared and nervous. There was no sign of the thirdperson who had been in the car, and even at this crucial moment Buck foundtime to observe the absence of his horse, Pete, and wondered momentarilywhat had become of him.

  "Yuh an' Hurd go back to the car." Lynch broke the silence in a tone ofsudden decision. "I'll tend to this business, an' there won't be noshootin' neither. Hustle, now! We ain't got any time to lose."

  Again Buck shuddered, and there pulsed through him that tremendous andpassionate instinct for self-preservation which comes to every man at sucha time. What Tex meant to do he could not guess, but he knew that if hewere left alone with the fellow he might as well give up all hope. He wasweak as a cat, and felt sure that no appeal from him would move Lynch aparticle. His only chance lay with the fat man and his companion, and asthe two turned away, Buck tried his best to call out after them.

  The only result was an inarticulate croak. Lynch heard it, and instantlydropping on his knees, he clapped one hand over Stratton's mouth. Inspite of Buck's futile struggles, he held it there firmly while the twomen moved out of sight down the trail. His face, which still bore thefading marks of Buck's fists, was a trifle pale, but hard and determined,and in his eyes triumph and a curious, nervous shrinking struggled formastery.

  But as the moments dragged on leaden wings, not a word passed his tightlips. Presently he glanced swiftly over one shoulder. An instant laterBuck's lips were freed, and he felt the foreman's hands slipping under hisbody.

  "You hellion!" he gasped, as Lynch's purpose flashed on him in all itshorror. "You damned cowardly hound!"

  As he felt himself thrust helplessly toward the precipice, Buck made atremendous, despairing effort and managed to catch Lynch by the belt andclung there for a moment. When one hand was torn loose, he even struck Texwildly in the face. But there was no strength in his arm, and Lynch, witha growl of rage, jerked himself free and sprang to his feet.

  For an instant he towered over his helpless enemy, white-faced andhesitating. Then Stratton caught the hard impact of his boot against hisside, and felt the edge of the rock slipping horribly beneath him.Powerless to help himself, his clutching fingers slid despairingly acrossthe smooth surface. A blinding ray of sunlight dazzled him for an instantand vanished; the mountain trail flashed out of sight. His heart leaped,then sank, with a tremendous, poignant agony that seemed to tear him intoshreds. Then blackness seemed to rush out of the gulch to enfold him in animpenetrable cloud of merciful oblivion.