The Trail of the White Mule

by B. M. Bower

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Casey awoke almost sober and considerably surprised when he discoveredthe handcuffs. His injured hand was throbbing from the poison in hissystem and the steel band on his swollen wrist. His head still achedfrightfully and his tongue felt thick and dry as flannel in his mouth.

  He rolled over and sat up, staring uncomprehendingly at the cabin fullof men. The sight of Barney Oakes recalled in a measure hisperformance with the dynamite; at least, he felt a keen disappointmentthat Barney was alive and whole and grinning. Casey could not see whatthere was to grin about, and he took it as a direct insult to himself.

  Mart and Joe sat sullenly on a bench against the wall, and Paw reclinedin his bunk at the farther end of the room. A blood-stained bandagewrapped Paw's head turbanwise, and his little, deep-set eyes gleamedwickedly in his pallid face. Casey looked for Hank, but he was notthere.

  A strange man was cooking supper, and Casey wanted to tell him that hewas slicing the bacon twice as thick as it should be. The corpulentman, whom he dimly remembered as a coroner, was talking with a big,burly individual whom Casey guessed was the sheriff. A man came in andannounced to the big man that the car was fixed and they could go anytime. Mart, who had been staring morosely down at his shackled wrists,lifted his head and spoke to the sheriff.

  "You'll have to do something about my mother," he said, and bit his lipat the manner in which every head swung his way.

  "What about your mother?" the sheriff asked moving toward him. "Is shehere?" His eyes sent a quick glance around the room which obviouslyhad four outside walls.

  Mart swallowed. "She has a cabin to herself," he explainedconstrainedly. "She--she isn't quite right. Strangers excite her.She--hasn't been well since my father was killed in the mine; she'squiet enough with us--she knows us. I don't know how she'll be now.I'm afraid--but she can't be left here alone; all I ask is, be asgentle as you can."

  The sheriff looked from him to Joe. Joe nodded confirmation. "Plumbharmless," he said gruffly. "It IS kinda--pitiful. Thinks everybody inthe world is damned and going to hell on a long lope." He gave a snortthat resembled neither mirth nor disgust. "Mebbe she's right at that,"he added grimly.

  The sheriff asked more questions, and Mart stood up. "I'll show youwhere she is, sure. But can't you leave her be till we're ready tostart? She--it ain't right to bring her here."

  "She'll want her supper," the sheriff reminded Mart. "We'll be drivingall night. Is she sick abed?"

  Casey lay down again and turned his face to the wall. He rememberedthe old woman now, and he hoped sincerely they would not bring her intothe cabin. But whatever they did, Casey wanted no part in it whatever.He wanted to be left alone, and he wanted to think. More than all elsehe wanted not to see again the old woman who chanted horrible thingswhile she rocked and rocked.

  He was roused from uneasy slumber by two officious souls, one of whomwas Barney Oakes. Their intentions were kindly enough, they onlywanted to give him his supper. But Casey wanted neither supper norkindly intentions, and he was still unregenerately regretful thatBarney Oakes was not lying out on the garbage heap in a more or lessfragmentary condition. They raised him to a sitting posture, and Caseyswung his legs over the edge of the bunk and delivered a ferocious kickat Barney Oakes.

  He caught Barney under the chin, and Barney went down for severalcounts. After that Casey wore hobbles on his feet, and was secretlyrather proud of the fact that they considered him so dangerous as allthat. Had his mood not been a sulky one which refused to have speechwith any one there, they would probably have found it wise to gag himas well.

  That is one night in Casey's turbulent life which he never recalled ifhe could help it. Two cars had brought the sheriff's party, and onewas a seven-passenger. In the roomy rear seat of this car, Casey,shackled and savage, was made to ride with Mart and his mother. Twodeputies occupied the folding seats and never relaxed theirwatchfulness.

  Casey's head still ached splittingly, and the jolting of the car didnot serve to ease the pain. The old woman sat in the middle, with ablanket wound round and round her to hold her quiet; which it failed todo. Into Casey's ear rolled the full volume of her rich contraltovoice as she monotonously intoned the doom of all mankind--togetherwith every cat, every rat, etc. Mart's fear had proved well-founded.Strangers had excited the woman and it was not until sheer exhaustionsilenced her that she ceased for one moment her horrible chant.

  I read the story in the morning paper, and made a flying trip to SanBernardino. Casey was in jail, naturally; but he didn't care muchabout that so long as he owned a head with an air-drill going inside.At least, that is what he told me when I was let in to see him. I wasworking to get him out of there on bail if possible before I sent wordto the Little Woman, hoping she had not read the papers. I had sometrouble piecing the facts together and trying to get the straight ofthings before I sent word to the Little Woman. I went out and got himsome medicine guaranteed, by the doctor who wrote the prescription, totake the hoot out of the hootch Casey had swallowed. That afternoonCasey left off glaring at me, sat up, accepted a cigarette andconsented to talk.

  "--an' all I got to say is, Barney Oakes is a liar an' the father uhliars. I never was in cahoots with him at no time. When he says I got'im to foller a Joshuay palm jest to git 'im out in the hills an' kill'im off, he lies. Let 'im come an' tell me that there story!"

  Casey was still slightly abnormal, I noticed, so I calmed him as best Icould and left him alone for a time. There was some hesitancy aboutthe bail, too, which I wished to overcome. Throwing that half-stick ofdynamite might be construed as an attempt at wholesale murder. I didnot want the county officials to think too long and harshly about thematter.

  I explained later to Casey that Barney Oakes had reported hisdisappearance to the officials in Barstow. The sheriff's office hadlong suspected a nest of moonshiners somewhere near Black Butte, and itwas rumored that one Mart Hanson, who owned a mine up there, wasbanking more money than was reasonable, these hard times, for a miner,who ships no ore. Casey's disappearance had crystallized thesuspicions into an immediate investigation. And Barney's assertionthat Casey had been murdered took the coroner along with the posse.

  It had all been straight and fairly simple until they reached the mineand discovered Casey uproariously one of the gang. Throwing loadeddynamite at sheriffs is frowned upon nowadays in the best officialcircles, I told Casey; he would have to explain that in court, I wasafraid.

  Then Barney, after Casey had kicked him in the chin, had reversed hisfirst report of the trouble and was now declaiming to all who wouldlisten that he had been decoyed to Black Butte by Casey Ryan and thereambushed and nearly killed. Casey, as Barney now interpreted theincident, had joined his confederates under the very thin pretense ofclimbing the butte to come at them from behind. Barney now rememberedthat he had been shot at from three different angles, and that theburros had been killed by pistol shots fired at close range--presumablyby Casey Ryan.

  It was like taming tigers to make Casey sit still and listen to allthis, but I had to do it so that he would know what to disprove.Afterwards I had a talk with Joe and Paw, separately, and so got at thewhole truth. They bore no malice toward Casey and were perfectlywilling to see him out of the scrape. They were a sobered pair; Hank,like a fool, had fired at the posse and was killed.

  The next day came the Little Woman to the rescue. I told her the wholestory, not even omitting the burro, before she went to the jail to seeCasey. It was a pretty mess--take it all around--and I was secretlysomewhat doubtful of the outcome.

  The Little Woman is game as women are made. She went with me to thejail, and she met Casey with a whimsical smile. We found him sittingon the side of his bunk with his legs stretched out and his feetcrossed, his good hand thrust in his trousers pocket and a cigarette inone corner of his mouth, which turned sourly downward. He cocked an eyeup at us and rose, as the Little Woman had maybe taught him was proper.But he did not say a word unti
l the Little Woman walked up and kissedhim on both cheeks, turning his face this way and that with her handunder his chin.

  Casey grinned sheepishly then and hugged her with his good arm. I wishyou could have seen the look in his eyes when they dwelt on the LittleWoman!

  "Casey Ryan, you need a shave. And your shirt collar is a disgrace toa Piute," she drawled reprovingly.

  Casey looked at me over her shoulder and grinned. He hadn't a word tosay for himself, which was unusual in Casey Ryan.

  "It's lucky for you, Casey Ryan, that I remembered to go down to thepolice station and get the proof that you were pinched twice onBroadway just five days before Barney Oakes says he found you stalledin the trail north of Barstow; and that you had been pinched prettyregularly every whip-stitch for the last six months, and were afamiliar and unwelcome figure in downtown traffic and elsewhere.

  "The sheriff who raided Black Butte admitted to me that it is utterlyimpossible for the world to hold more than one Casey Ryan at a time;and that he, for one, is willing to accept the word of the city policethat you were there raising the record for traffic trouble and notmoonshining at Black Butte. He doesn't approve of throwing dynamite atpeople, but--well, I talked with the prosecuting attorney, too, andthey both seem to be mighty nice men and reasonable. I'm afraid BarneyOakes will see his beautiful story all spoiled."

  "He'll forget it when he feels the ruin to his face I'm goin' t' createfor him if I ever meet up with 'im again," Casey commented grimly.

  "Babe sent you a pincushion she made in school. I think she madebeautiful, neat stitches in that C," went on the Little Woman in aplacid, gossipy tone invented especially for domestic conversation."And--oh, yes! There's a new laundryman on our route, and he PERSISTSin running across the lawn and dumping the laundry in the front hall,though I've told him and TOLD him to deliver it at the back. Andthere's a new tenant in Number Six, and they hadn't been in more thanthree days before he came home drunk and kept everybody in the houseawake, bellowing up and down the hall and abusing his wife and all. Itold him held have to go when his month is up, but he says he'll bedamned if he will. He says he won't and I can't make him."

  "He won't, hey?" A familiar, pale glitter came into Casey's eyes. "Youwatch and see whether he goes or not! He better tell Casey Ryan hewon't go! Who'd, they think's runnin' the place? Lemme ketch thatlaundry driver oncet, runnin' across our lawn; I'll run 'im acrossit--on his nose! They take advantage of you quick as my back's turned.I'll learn 'em they got Casey Ryan to reckon with!"

  The Little Woman gave me a smiling glance over Casey's shoulder, andlowered a cautious eyelid. I left them then and went away to have asatisfying talk with the sheriff and the prosecuting attorney.