Lonesome Town

by E. S. Dorrance and James French Dorrance

  CHAPTER XXIII--THE MAN BEHIND

  Pape's ride down from the height of No-Man's Land was rapid as hisadvisedly devious course would allow--rapid from his desire tocommunicate his steer-led discovery to Jane Lauderdale with the leastpossible delay and devious for two reasons. He did not wish to attractthe attention of the treasure blasters until after the girl had lookedthem over. And he did not wish to fall into the hands of the police whohad hauled his run-amuck escutcheon out of the lake and taken him incharge.

  On reaching the meadow where he had asked his quondam pursuit pardnersto await him, he could sight none of them. He concluded that they hadcut for the nearest bridle path to avoid any such accounting to the parkauthorities as had been exacted after last evening's irregularities.Stansbury caution advised that he do likewise, but the Pape habit ofriding rough-shod by the short-cut trail overruled.

  A demand upon him strong as physical force or a voiced cry caused him toturn and peer into the mouth of a sort of gulch into which the greentailed off. There he saw some one gray-clad, dismounted, waiting--Jane,silently calling him.

  Spurring to her, he found that the three had thought it advisable totake cover in a small glen, irregularly oval in shape, that would haveserved excellently as a bull-ring had its granite sides been tiered withseats. Harford and Irene still sat their saddles, the girl holding reinon the horse ridden by Jane, who evidently had reconnoitered that hemight not miss them on his promised return.

  Pape's heart quickened from appreciation of her fealty. He decided ifpossible to "cut out" her alone from her undependable "bunch" and showher the discovery to which the beef-brute had led him--the latestoperation of the Lauderdale enemy.

  "Why Not! So you're safe?" The glad cry was Irene's, as she pressed upto him. "But my pet cow--don't tell me you let him get away?"

  "The 'dar-rling' is on the road to the calaboose--pinched for all sortsof crimes," returned Pape unfeelingly. "You'll need a larger crop ofbail weeds than you possibly can gather to make good your claim to him."

  She, with a voice throb of regret: "That's what I get for not following.A girl's got to keep on the heels of her live-stock, be he man or cow,_these_ rapid days. Think of me sitting here, losing out as if I'd beenborn a hundred years ago--_obeying_ a mere male!"

  Jane had remounted and now rode up.

  "But if the steer is arrested," she asked, "how do you come to be free?Did you disown him?"

  "Didn't have to." Pape's speech was that of a man in a hurry."Trail's-end for the red was an air pocket over a toy lake. He made amagnificent splash and started swimming for the other shore. In thewater he was about as dangerous as a pollywog. Proved easy pickings forthat active little arrester of last night, Pudge O'Shay. Anotherpoliceman sat in the stern of his commandeered row-boat, over-working apiece of rope. I wish 'em joy taking my escutcheon in."

  He omitted report of his own desperate feat of saving Polkadot andhimself a similar high-dive off the bluff edge. More authoritatively heturned back to Irene.

  "Likely his fate will make you feel some better over that obeyoversight. If you'd like to get the habit, you'd do me a favor byhunting up the village pound and paying the dues put on that shieldrampant o' mine. Here's a roll that ought to be a gent cow'ssufficiency. And you'd favor me further by taking the family friendalong."

  "You mean----"

  "_Your_ Harfy. Maybe you can impress him with the desirability ofobeying orders. Got to confess I failed."

  "You precious puzzle!"--the young lady of to-day. "You aren't--Oh, youare--you _are_!"

  "Are I--just what?"

  "Jealous, you silly! Haven't I told you that Harfy long ago gave uphopes of me, that he is as naught to me--ab-so-lutely naught more than afriend who----"

  "At that, he's more to you than he's shown himself to me," Papeinterposed with point.

  Harford pulled up his mount's head with something the decisive fling ofhis own. "I admit that I give orders better than take them. Come, Jane.Come, Irene. Maybe I can get you out of this mess yet without unpleasantconsequences."

  "And maybe, Jane, the consequences ain't going to be so plumbunpleasant," Pape contested her attention with something the seriousnesshe had shown at the foot of the Sturgis' steps. "In a certain some oneelse's little matter of unfinished business that's demanding my time andattention right now, I have pressing need of one assistant. Are you--doyou feel--well, willing?"

  "But, Why Not, why not _me_?" Irene prevented immediate reply from hercousin; spurred her mount close beside the obviously fastidiousPolkadot; at last dropped her battered-looking bunch of roses to claspthe Westerner's arm. "You _know_ that I--And I _know_ that you--Don'tyou, dar-rling--or do you? I am sure that I'm not _ashamed_of--of--_You_ know. That is, I ain't if you aren't. Of course Jane iscalmer than I, but who wants to be calm nowadays? _I'm_ the one that'swilling and then some to tag along with you into difficulty and dangerand----"

  Harford, heated of face and manner, interrupted.

  "No one's going to tag with him into any more difficulty or danger. Yougirls are going to keep your agreement, aren't you? You're both comingpeacefully along with me, now that I've let you wait long enough to seethat this person, rightly entitled 'The Impossible,' is safe."

  "Let us wait--_you_ let us?" Irene flared. "A dozen of you couldn't haveforced me to desert him, Millsy Harford--not whilst I had _my_ healthand strength!"

  Despite her ardor, Pape managed to free his arm of her hold. With hiseyes he re-asked the question put to Jane. He could see that she wasconfused, annoyed, justifiably suspicious of the youngster vamp'sproprietorship.

  "Don't you worry about any unfinished business of Miss Lauderdale,"Harford added with augmented insolence. "I think she will concede that Iam more competent and quite as willing as you to attend any and allsuch. On my advice she has given up her search for a mythical needlemythically buried in this park haystack. Haven't you, Jane? _Haven't_you, dear?"

  Pape, while listening to the man, looked to the woman; gained her gaze,saw her lips form to an unvoiced "No." Fresh love for her and fresh hatefor him--fresh suspicion and the courage thereof possessed him.

  "Meantime, I suppose, your hirelings are tumbling up this park haystackaccording to the directions of that cryptogram you took from Mrs.Sturgis' wall-safe?"

  "You damned blighter, you dare accuse me of theft?"

  Pape laughed into the snarled demand. "And why not accuse? I don't likeyou and I don't trust you. Miss Lauderdale's unfinished business issafer in my hands than yours. You lie when you say that she hastransferred it to you. She knows who is the better man. In case you'renot sure, I am ready to show."

  "No readier than I, you weak fish out of water." Harford's voice shookinto higher, harder notes. "You couldn't very well call me a thief and aliar without showing. As I told you this morning you'll have to answerto me if you raise any more of a row around Miss Lauderdale. When willyou give me a chance to----"

  "Now?" Pape suggested.

  "You don't mean here, before the girls, in a public place where the copsare likely----"

  "_Why not_?"

  So the Queer Questioner's battle-cry!

  Lightly though he laughed, he was heavy with hate, again moved by thatbattleful mania which is the sanity of love. To him specific insults didnot matter so much. The importance of the whys, wheres or whences grewall at once negligible. To have it out with the man who contested hisclaim to his woman--to bring him down just on general principles--towring him and rend him and trample him, if need be, into acknowledgmentof his supreme impertinence--that was his present task.

  A thought-flash of the moment before had thrown rays of suspicionseveral ways through Pape's mind. Mills Harford knew of the MontanaGusher swindle, as indicated by his jibe of that morning about an"oil-stock shark." Being a real-estater of considerable success, hemight be a principal in that fraud. Certainly he did not seem the man tohave been a victim.

  The idea that this "most prominent" suitor of Jane might be the leaderof the anti-L
auderdales was suggested by his bold attempt to deter thegirl from further investigation. That she herself considered him afriend was in itself significant. He could not better have covered inperpetrating an inimical act toward her than by first having won herconfidence with flattery as expertly administered as though he wereindeed one of those villainous "perfect lovers" with whom honest heroeshave to cope on stage and screen.

  As an intimate of the household, Harford probably was in position toknow the worth of the late eccentric's buried "bone." He might well haveinstigated that "inside" safe job at the Sturgis' and been responsiblefor the trailing of the poke-bonnet lady to the East Sixty-third Streethide-out, this last particularly pointed by his later appearance therewith his lawyer. And here in the glen, just as the out-croppings showedplain the way to treasure's lead, he was ready to prevent Jane by forcefrom continuing her park prospecting while the excavations were underwayon the heights. All the circumstantials were suspicious.

  Why not now? In view of possibilities, it had not taken one of Pape'spredisposition for action long to decide that the then and there werenone too soon for adjustment of their relative status. He and hisself-selected could spare time, he guessed, for a bout that wouldsettle--well, what it would settle.

  "Climb down. Let's get it over before some ladylike rule of thisold-woman town of yours trips us up."

  Pape was in the act of dismounting, in accordance with his ownsuggestion, when Harford executed a surprise that nearly crowded him toa fall. The attack was abetted by the inherent hostility of athoroughbred horse for cross-breeds of the range. As though trained forjust such participation, the blue-blood rammed into the piebald,bringing his rider within tempting reach of the enemy ear. A whack moredizzying than dangerous followed the equine impact.

  "So that's--the game?" Pape gasped during his recovery. "You'vegot--edge on me--with your--polo punch. But swords or pistols! I'm readyfor--any old fight that's fought--Harfy _dar_-_rling_."

  He threw back into the leather, where he felt as much at home as any manand jabbed his right foot back into its stirrup. Swinging his calicocayuse he pressed back the horses astride which the two girls sat--Janewith pale, set face, like a marble of avengement; Irene glitter-eyed andhigh-hued from excitement. For a duel of chevaliers this particularsquared-circle hidden by Nature must be cleared. When the fair audiencewas crowded to one side in "reserved" quadruped standing room, Westwhirled and bore down on East.

  Fights of diverse sorts had place in the variegated past of Peter Pape.Rough-and-tumbles, knock-down-and-drag-outs, rim-fires orlightning-draws--all such he had survived. But no past emergency had hebattled by fists on horseback. Once he had accepted the challenge,however, the form of fight looked fairer than at first blow, since itwas unlikely that its instigator had more experience in stirrup battlingthan he. As for rules, he, for one, felt quite as hazy as he would havein some tilting bout of lance-laden knight of old. They would have tomake up the rules as they went along, he supposed.

  "At 'em, Dot!" he wirelessed the frecked ear laid back in rancor againsta brushed-teeth nip of the over-groomed enemy mount. Not a heel urge didthe piebald need, any more than a jerk of the rein which, already, Papehad twisted about the saddle horn. With a horse keen to knee pressure aswas this cow-pony, he had the advantage of both hands free for swing orjab.

  Straight at the aristocrats went the rough pair. Polkadot landed ashoulder impact that all but toppled the spindle-legged black. Thewhile, his man-mate's bruising left, accomplished contact with theHarford nose. At the "claret" which oozed from a feature perfect enoughin outline to have been inherited from classic Greek, Irene uttered acry in which sounded fear for the family friend and admiration of theperson impossible. Jane sat her horse, silent and outwardly composed,except that the color had left even her lips.

  In the break-away, the black kicked out viciously. But the pinto, withskill acquired in growing-up days when he had trained with an Arizonaoutlaw band, flirted his vari-colored rump out of harm's way. Alreadythe battle was bi-fold, the two men its instigators, their mountsresponsible for footwork.

  On the second engagement, not counting that initial surprise attackwhich had bordered on the foul, Harford handled his thoroughbred into aposition of such advantage that he drove a right to Pape's jaw. Rockedfrom crown to toe, the Westerner saved himself a fall by going into justsuch a clinch as he would have tried had they been balanced each on hisown two feet instead of his horse's four.

  There was something superstitious in the look which distorted Harford'sgood looks, as he found himself held helpless while his opponentrallied--a look which suggested that he had put his all into thatupper-cut and was worse nerve-shocked than was its recipient physicallyover failure to bring decision. There being no referee to command abreak, Pape came out of the clinch when he was ready, with the "spinner"aid of a horse that turned ends on signal--and all within the space of ablanket.

  The break-away, unexpected by the Eastern immaculate, reduced himsartorially to a plane with the Westerner. His stock and part of hisstriped silk shirt remained in the Pape paws, torn from his neck andback when Polkadot had capered. His dishevelment now matched that whichPape had acquired in his struggle against momentum upon the cliff.

  The equine pair also seemed possessed of battling madness. For a timethey fox-trotted about, keeping their riders beyond each other's reach,while they fought an instinctive duel of their own. The black proved afore-and-after--pawed out ladylike blows with slender forefeet, thenlofted his heels in a way that jarred the human aboard him more than thewary target. At a familiar knee signal, Polkadot suddenly rose on hishindlegs as if for that bronco evolution known as sunfishing.

  "Look out--he'll topple back and crush you!"

  The outcry was forced from Jane.

  As at once transpired, it proved unnecessary. The piebald had nointention of falling back upon his man-pal. Instead, he hopped forwardon hind legs until he had the black cornered, then flung down with allhis weight. The thoroughbred, crushed to his knees, escaped by sheeragility the sharp-shod hoofs; wriggled his fringe-bedecked neck andsatin shoulders from out the commoner's clutch.

  Dumbly infuriated by his failure and urged by an imperative signal,Polkadot pressed such advantage as was left him. By sparing the black notime to recover, he gave Pape his opportunity. Head to tail the horsesmet with terrific impact. For the second or so in which both staggered,a stirrup each locked crushingly.

  Followed two fist blows from Pape, so nearly simultaneous that noon-looker could have been sure which did the work. He himself knew thathis right had led by enough of a count to jolt his rival's head intofair position for his gnarled left. Far out from saddle he leaned to putinto that follow his last ounce of power. The blow landed nicely underthe Easterner's cleft chin. As the horses sprang apart, Harford toppledand fell.

  What would have been a clean knock-out of which no fistic specialistneed have been ashamed was spoiled by a mishap. The falling man's rightfoot did not clear the trap-like stirrup of his English saddle. Thebehavior of his thoroughbred too, was unfortunate. In a frenzy of alarmthe black sprang forward, then dashed for the entrance of the glen,dragging his rider. Probably the fact that Harford was clear out, hisbody inert, saved him an immediate hoof wound, but there was scarcely achance of his survival if hauled over the rocks of the entrance. Hishorse, however, did not reach that barrier. Having his rival dragged toinjury or death was no more a part of Pape's program than was murder acomponent of his hate. Before the black had covered two rods, Polkadotwas after him, for once dug by the spurs which he had every right toconsider worn for decorative purposes only. One hundred yards of green,with the sharp teeth of the rock trap but fifty farther on, brought theracing beasts neck and neck--brought Pape to an equestrian exploitconceived on the way.

  He kicked his right foot free of the wooden stirrup; encircled thesaddle horn with his knee; throwing his weight on the left stirrup,leaned low. To retrieve a grounded hat or handkerchief from the saddleat gallop pace he regard
ed as a simple form of exercise. To seize andloft an unconscious man of Harford's build was difficulty multiplied byhis dead weight of some hundred-seventy pounds.

  "Impossible!"

  Pape's jaw set with the thought-challenge which had taken him over thetop of so varied contretemps--the word applied to him with suchsignificance by the snob whom he was about to save.

  Why not achieve the impossible now as heretofore? He put the demand onhis tried muscles, risked two bounds of the black in making sure thathis grip upon the collar of Harford's coat was firm, then heaved uponhis burden. The initial inches of clearance were hardest--broke hisnails, tortured his fingers, almost snapped the sinews in his arm. Notuntil his right hand was able to join his left did he breathe again.

  And just in time was his double hold secured.

  So quickly did the black horse swerve that the calico could notsynchronize. For a moment Harford's body and the taut stirrup were astrained connecting link. Then Polkadot edged nearer and Pape was ableto lift the unconscious figure to a position of partial support acrosshis mount's forequarters.

  But the stirrup still held, its iron shoe having been forced into theleather of Harford's boot and fastened as in a vise. They might becoupled together until the black ran down unless----

  The stretch of strap gave Pape an idea. Quick almost as the thought hedrew his gun; took three shots; severed the link. Turning, he rode thedoubly burdened piebald back in the direction of the two girls, whilethe thoroughbred sought exclusiveness in the far reaches of the glen.Probably because of the frequent back-fire of motors and the blow-out oftires which at times make Central Park suggest a West Virginia miningtown on fusillade day, the curiosity of no sparrow cop had been excitedby the gun reports.

  Much more gently than he had gathered up his enemy, Pape now lowered himto the turf and flung out of saddle to a kneeling position. A cursoryexamination showed Harford's fine-featured face to be somewhat marred byfist blows. But his body, so far as the emergency first aid coulddetermine, was intact. The last fear of a possible skull fracture wasdissipated when the brown eyes quivered open and the flaccid lips beganto move.

  "He's trying to speak, Why Not," exclaimed Irene, a moment ahead of Janein dismounting. "Listen, _do_! In the novels I've read they always saythe most _important_ things when they're coming out of--of a hiatus orwhatever you call it."

  Pape leaned close enough to grasp part of the effortful mumble.

  "Didn't steal--anything. Sorry called you--names. Irene loves----"

  That was as far as Harford got at the moment. And it was well, as theperquisitory miss demanded the context of his utterances.

  Now, the telling of lies was abhorrent to Peter Pape. Seldom did heconsider recourse to the slightest misrepresentation even whenstraight-out talk made complexities. But he found himself tempted by aninspiration as to how he might repay both enemy man and enemy girl forthe trouble they had caused him with the same slight elaboration of thetruth.

  "It is your name on his lips," he informed the romantic miss."'Irene'--_you_ were his first thought. You're the one he wants, mychild, the one he calls for."

  "Oh! _Oh_!" she murmured, her dark eyes expanding. "Then I haven't beenwrong--Harfy _has_ cared for me in secret all along?"

  She knelt down beside the fallen family friend; hovered over him in anegoistic ecstasy.

  "Poor dar-rling--_how_ you must have loved me to have hidden it so well!And all the time I thought that you--Oh, it is _thrilling_ that youshould have pretended to regard another, when in reality your _grandepassione_ was for me alone! If you'd been killed, I _never_ could haveforgiven myself--that is, I couldn't if I had found out afterwards. WhenI think what you must have _suffered_, I wonder how I ever canrepay----"

  "You've got a darn' good chance right here and now," interrupted Pape,as a finishing touch to his ruse for punishing them and cutting-out Janefrom the "bunch." "He's coming around fast--ain't in any physical dangerif his heart is cheered up. 'Tis better far for him that you twoshouldest be alone when he comes clean to. You stay here and nursehim--you owe him at least that much. When he's able to ride make for thebridle path and home. The black is quieting down. You can catch himwithout trouble. And don't be afraid of pouring out your love andaffection upon the poor man. It is your bounden duty as a woman and avamp. Love may save his life."

  "But you, Why Not?"

  A sudden fear lest she lose the old in the new acquirement strained herface.

  "I'll bear up some way. I, too, still have my health and strength." Hetried to mask his triumph in a dark, desperate frown. "Come, Jane. Youand I are no longer needed here."

  He forestalled protest by remounting; gave the older girl ahalf-humorous, wholly-apologetic look; led the way toward the heights.

  Five minutes later they dropped rein in a clump of warty-ridgedhackberry bushes and started on afoot. On the way he made succinctreport of his discovery during the pursuit of the red. At that, he hadnot prepared her--indeed, was far from prepared himself--for what theysoon saw from cover at the edge of the mesa.

  The stage was set as on his dash across it in pursuit of the run-amuck.But the actors--half a dozen in number, inclusive of Swinton Welch, andnone in laborer's garb--were now grouped about one of the supply carts.Attention centered upon a man who sat the tail of this cart--one who hadnot been about during Pape's preview. His pudgy hands held open beforehim a sheet of paper from which he was reading aloud.

  The pair in the bush stared at this man in amazement too breath-takingfor speech. Then their glances met, as if to read substantiation, eachin the other's eyes.

  So, then, it was true! The _generalissimo_ issuing instructions was thelong-time friend and family counselor, ex-Judge Samuel Allen.