Gunsmoke and Trail Dust

by Bliss Lomax

  “I’d like to wipe out every one of ’em!” he rapped.

  It was a hope that was not to be realized. A narrow canyon opened behind the rustlers. They made for it, and from its mouth were able to hold the posse at bay.

  “It’s no use,” Ringe announced, as darkness fell. “We’ve done all we can. It won’t do us any good to hang on here; they’ll be far away by morning.”

  It was sound advice, and Stack and the others accepted it. Weary, hungry, with a night’s riding still ahead of them, they turned back to Skull Tanks to round up Stack’s cows.

  “What about Beeson?” Clay asked.

  “Pile some rocks over him and let it go at that!” Coconino answered. “That’s better’n he deserves!”

  They were at Skull Tanks in an hour. They had food to satisfy their hunger and tobacco to take the edge off their weariness. Stack’s cows had feasted on the grass around the tanks and had bedded down for the night. At first, they stubbornly refused to take the trail. Once they were moving along, however, they were handled without too much difficulty.

  Clay dozed in his saddle for an hour. Ringe rode at his side, relaxed and half asleep. The penetrating chill of the high places knifed into their bones and jerked them awake.

  “Cold,” Clay muttered. “Must be late.”

  “After midnight,” Big John informed him, glancing at his watch in the moonlight. “Still a long piece to go.”

  He filled his stubby pipe and puffed on it for a while. “I must have been dreaming back there,” he said. “Something about Pat Redman. He was in pretty bad shape, Clay. I hope we don’t lose him. Pat’s a good man.”

  “They must have him on the way into Mescal by now.” Clay replied. “Have you got a good doctor?”

  “Yes, Deering is all right. He’s got a couple rooms in his house that he uses for a hospital. He’ll keep Pat there. Rowan and Cleve will need his attention too. The news will fly over the basin that there’s been a big fight. Things went our way, but we could have done better.”

  “We did well enough,” said Clay. “I think you’ll have proof of that in the days to come. I don’t know how seriously wounded Jennings is. I don’t think it matters particularly. It’s enough for me that we’ve proved to him and his gang that rustling around Magdalena Basin isn’t profitable any more. That’s what counts. It’s been my experience that when you show rustlers their game doesn’t pay, they move on to greener pastures. I’ll be surprised if Steve makes another raid.”

  “You honestly mean that?” Ringe asked soberly.

  “I do. I’m afraid the end of my job is almost in sight.”

  Chapter Eleven

  BUSHWACKED

  CLAY HAD EXPECTED to be gone three or four days, when he promised himself he would see Eudora as soon as he got back to the basin. Though it had not taken him that long, he saw no reason for staying away, and when she dismissed school that afternoon, he was at the gate.

  Eudora had heard about the fight with the Jennings gang, during the day. She was relieved to see Clay back, unharmed; but with feminine perversity tried to conceal the fact. “I hadn’t expected you so soon,” she said. “When did you get back?”

  “About daylight. I was going to pretend I just happened along this afternoon, but I’m not going to do it. I was worried about you and I might as well admit it.”

  Eudora gave him a smile that fully repaid him for his honesty. “It was thoughtful of you to ask Mr. Ringe to see Harvey on my account. It wasn’t necessary; I’ve been perfectly safe. Will you come in?”

  She led the way into the schoolhouse and sat down at her desk. Clay pulled up a chair. As he sat there with his hat on his knee, Eudora saw the ominous looking bullet hole above the band. She reached out for the hat and Clay saw her cheeks pale.

  “It was that close!” she exclaimed barely above a whisper.

  “It was close,” he acknowledged. “A miss is as good as a mile, they say.”

  At her insistence, he told her of what had taken place at Skull Tanks and the running fight that followed. It left her frightened and dejected.

  “I suppose you’ve been through such things so often you take them as a matter of course,” was her sober comment. “Has it ever occurred to you how selfish you are, taking such chances with your life? It might be precious to someone,” she finished looking away.

  “If you were that someone it would make a difference—a big difference,” he said tensely, his heart in his eyes as he gazed at her fondly.

  He reached out and caught her hand and she did not draw away.

  “I’ve saved my money. I could hang up my guns without regret and turn to something safer, Eudora.”

  “That’s something I haven’t any right to ask,” she murmured softly, the pulse in her cheek beating faster. Her eyes met his appealingly. “Please don’t make me say any more now, Clay!”

  She withdrew her hand and they sat there without speaking for a long moment before she said, “I suppose you noticed that Verne and Jeb were not in school today.”

  Clay nodded. “Haven’t they been back since they had their run-in the other afternoon?”

  “No, and I’m afraid they won’t be back. To my surprise Mr. Nichols supported me, but when he heard about Jeb and his rifle he was furious, of course. The upshot of it was that he said Verne was done with school. From what Cissy has to say, the Caneys feel the same way. I don’t know whether it was done deliberately or not, but their sheep got across the line yesterday afternoon. Verne and his father drove them off.”

  “Well, I must say you take it calmly enough!” Clay exclaimed, straightening up, surprised. “It was one of the things I was afraid of for you. Were any shots fired?”

  “No. The sheep were driven off but they weren’t harmed.”

  “That’ll follow, and quickly! There’ll be shooting, and it may not be out on the range, either.” Clay’s voice was rough with conviction. “Eudora—I want you to promise me you’ll start for the Humes at the first sound of gunfire and stay there until this trouble is over!”

  “Certainly you don’t think the Caneys would attack the house!” she protested.

  “I don’t know what they’ll do,” Clay declared sharply. “There’s no reason why you should be caught in their quarrel.”

  Eudora found his concern for her precious.

  “I’ll go to the Humes if that will make you feel better,” she said. “But you can’t ask me to pick up and run without reason. If there is any shooting, chances are it will be finished before I learn anything about it.”

  “If that’s the way it turns out, so much the better,” he told her. “You will be careful?”

  “I promise,” she said lightly. “I’m going to let you walk home with me.”

  “I wondered if you’d permit me.”

  Eudora laughed, he was so sober about it.

  “Permit you?” she echoed. “Why do you put it that way, Clay?”

  “I imagine Webb Nichols won’t relish seeing you in my company.”

  “I’m afraid it’s a little late to keep him from knowing we’re friends. Children are terrible gossips, Clay; by suppertime everyone will know you were calling on me this afternoon. As for Mr. Nichols, he’s free to think whatever he pleases.”

  “You’re under no obligation to him, Eudora?”

  “No, and I want him to understand that I’m not.”

  When she had gathered up some papers she wanted to take home, she turned the key in the lock and they went down the road together, with Clay leading his horse. Just being in each other’s company gave them a deep sense of excitement and happiness that found expression without resorting to words.

  Verne was in the yard when they turned in. His eyes blazed with jealousy at seeing them together. With a hostile scowl darkening his face, he hurried off to the barn.

  “There’s a lot of wolf in that kid,” Clay said tightly. “Do you have any trouble handling him?”

  “Verne will do anything for me,” she remarked with a v
ague note of uncertainty that he caught.

  “Look out for him,” he advised. “He’s likely to misunderstand your being kind to him.”

  They talked for a minute at the cabin door.

  “When will I be seeing you again, Clay?” she asked, as he was about to ride away.

  “In a day or two. If you can arrange it, maybe we can ride up in the timber this week-end.”

  He raised his hat and was gone then. A few minutes later, Webb was at the door, a deep anger in his eyes.

  “Miss Stoddard, I ain’t presumin’ to tell you how to pick yore friends, but I don’t want Roberts snoopin’ around here,” he declared bluntly. “That’s final, and it’s all I have to say!”

  Eudora faced him with rare courage and refused to be flustered. “I’m glad you recognize my right to choose my friends,” she said evenly. “I recognize your right to object to Mr. Roberts coming here; but don’t call it snooping, Mr. Nichols.”

  Elly came racing across the yard. Darting past her father, she put a protective arm around Eudora. “Papa, don’t you be cross to Miss Stoddard!” she cried.

  Webb was so surprised to have one of his brood stand up to him that he stood there tongue-tied for a moment. Elly was his favorite child, and though he ruled his family with an iron hand, for her to face him unafraid filled him with a strange sense of pride.

  “I didn’t mean to speak rough to you, Miss Stoddard,” he muttered apologetically; “but if it’s just the same to you, don’t ask him here again.”

  He stamped away, his belligerency returning with every step. Eudora had to smile to herself, for she had not expected to win a compromise from Webb so easily. She knew she had Elly to thank for it. She embraced the child affectionately.

  “You’re a dear, Elly!” she whispered. “I don’t know how I’d make out without you.”

  Elly looked up at her with the sober wisdom of a woman of 40 in her eyes. “Are you going to run off and marry Clay Roberts like mama said?” she asked.

  Eudora laughed to hide her confusion. “When did your mother ever say such a thing, Elly?”

  “The first morning you came to breakfast. Don’t you remember? She said the trouble with young schoolteachers was that they were always running off and getting married.”

  Eudora hugged her tighter. “Elly Nichols, what strange things go on in your little head! I’m not thinking of running off and marrying anyone. Why, I hardly know Mr. Roberts!”

  Eudora’s amusement faded as soon as Elly left.

  What an absurd idea! she thought. I’ve only seen the man twice!

  She sat down to write her aunt but her thoughts kept straying to Clay. He was so tall and straight, and his gray eyes had a way of losing all their coldness when he spoke to her. She shuddered when she remembered how close he had been to death at Skull Tanks.

  “Father in Heaven, keep him safe!” she whispered. “I don’t want anything to happen to him!”

  * * * *

  When Clay left her, it was not in his mind to see Harvey before returning to the Santa Bonita. In fact, he was half a mile beyond Willow Creek before he suddenly decided to swing south and stop at the Hume ranch.

  Virgil Hume was one of the very few who knew Harvey and Roberts had met secretly on several occasions. One evening, on Willow Creek, he had been present himself. He was at Harvey’s place this afternoon, and when Clay rode in, he recognized him at once.

  “If you’re lookin’ for Harvey, he’ll be here in a few minutes,” Virgil told him. “He’s out on the flats, bringin’ in a hoss. Looks like him comin’ now. Will you git down?”

  “For a few minutes,” Clay replied. “I suppose you heard that Nichols caught Caney’s sheep on his range and turned them back.”

  “Yeh, heard about it this mornin’.” Virgil wagged his head gravely. “There’ll be some blood spilled over it. You had quite a brush with Jennings. Word came out from town a couple hours ago that Pat Redman is really bad off.”

  “I’m sorry to hear it,” said Clay. “Getting him in to the doctor was a long, tough trip for a man in his condition. I figure if he had grit enough to stand that, he’ll pull through.”

  Harvey joined them and shook hands with Clay. “Have you seen Miss Stoddard?” he asked.

  “I just left her. I was sure you wouldn’t mind riding over yesterday. I’d have come down myself and asked you, but there wasn’t time; I had to pull out in a hurry.” Clay grinned. “That was some concession Big John made in coming here. But you must have got along all right; he says he’s glad he saw you.”

  “We had quite a talk,” said Harvey. “After we got started we seemed to find we had the same ideas about a good many things. I hope it’s the beginning of a better understanding all the way round. If you saw Eudora this afternoon then you know how things are going with Webb and Caney. She doesn’t think she’s in any danger.”

  “I know she doesn’t. She may be right; but I’m not so sure. If Caney has provocation enough, he’s capable of riding over there and blasting everyone in sight.”

  “Mebbe so,” Virgil declared skeptically. “Shad always puts up a big front that he’s a wild tiger if you cross him. If you keep cases on him close enough you’ll see he don’t lose his head anywhere near as much as he lets on; he’s always got a trick up his sleeve and figgerin’ to come out a little better’n even. My place is a little far from the school for us to take Miss Stoddard in, but there’s no reason why she can’t stay with Harvey and his mother till this sheep trouble is settled one way or another.”

  “We’d be glad to have her,” Harvey offered.

  “That’s what I told her,” said Clay. “I got her to promise she would come over if there is any shooting. If there is a big blowup Harvey, I’d appreciate it if you got word to me.”

  “You can count on that,” Harvey assured him. “That must have been quite a scrap around Skull Tanks.”

  “It wasn’t any pushover,” Clay declared dryly. “A lot of lead was thrown.”

  “Reckon there was,” Virgil put in. “From all accounts I’ve heard, you had Jennings’s bunch purty well trapped. How did they manage to git away?”

  “The best answer I can give you, Virgil, is that we had too many generals with us. Do you know that country south of the San Carlos Swell?”

  “I’ve never seen it,” Virgil replied, “I’m shore Harvey never did either.”

  “Well, it’s tough; and there’s a lot of it,” said Clay. “Steve had half a dozen men with him. I wouldn’t say we had him trapped. After we lost Pat Redman, Rowan, and Cleve Johnson, we didn’t have much of an edge.”

  He gave them a detailed account of the fight.

  “I wonder what Dufors will have to say about it,” Virgil remarked. “It makes him look bad, things like that goin’ on and him sittin’ in Mescal twiddlin’ his thumbs. If I know him, he’ll be hollerin’ about yore takin’ the law into yore own hands and how much better you’d have done if you’d called him in and let him deputize a posse.”

  “That’ll just about be his slant now that the shooting is over,” Harvey declared disparagingly. “He’s always been the little fellow’s great friend, to hear him tell it. He got by with that song and dance for a long time. It must gall him something terrible to find no one paying any attention to him any more.”

  “I’m sure it does,” Clay agreed. “I don’t know how he arrives at it but he holds me responsible.”

  “Hunh!” Virgil grunted. “You ignored him, didn’t you? Wal, that’s poison to a tinhorn like Dufors! He’ll do you dirt if the chance ever comes his way!”

  It was a prophetic warning, but Clay dismissed it carelessly. When he got back to the Santa Bonita he found Cleve sprawled out comfortably in a chair on the gallery, his right shoulder in a plaster cast.

  “So, you’re back?” he called to him. “Do you figure you’ll live?”

  “Yeh, reckon I’ll make it.” Cleve grinned.

  “What’s the latest word on Pat?”

  “He’
ll be laid up a few weeks. You can’t kill a tough old bird like him. I heard him tell Doc that it’d take more’n one slug to finish him off. He’s got Deering believin’ it too.” Cleve gave him a puckered glance. “I saw your friend Dufors.”

  “My friend?” Clay queried facetiously.

  “You look out for that bastard.” Cleve was serious enough now. “He hates your guts, Clay. They’re laughin’ at him in Mescal, and that’s somethin’ Dufors can’t stand.”

  “I guess I better watch my step,” Clay observed lightly. “That’s the second warning I’ve had within the hour.”

  “All right, have it your way!” Cleve snapped. “You may find yourself laughin’ out of the other side of your mouth. Supper is on the table; you better get inside.”

  “What about you? Aren’t you eating?”

  “I’ve had mine. Elmer gave me somethin’ to eat when I got back about an hour ago.”

  Clay walked into the dining-room and sat down next to Ringe. After the crew trooped out, he and Big John remained at the table. The latter got out his pipe and called for more coffee.

  The twilight faded as they talked. Shorty McCarran, the kitchen swamper, stuck his head in the door and asked if he should light a lamp.

  “No, we’ll finish our talk in the office,” Ringe told him.

  He and Clay had just stepped out on the gallery, when a rider came into the yard at a driving gallop. He pulled up a few feet from the steps and looked about uncertainly as though unfamiliar with the place.

  “Who is it?” Ringe called.

  A light burned in the office and the stranger made for it. As the lamplight struck his face, they saw it was Harvey Hume. The manner of his coming was enough to cry trouble.

  “What is it?” Clay demanded anxiously.

  “Shad Caney’s been shot!” Harvey caught his breath. “His wife and Jeb drove past the house with him about forty minutes ago. I sent Virgil over to Webb’s place. If things don’t look right there, he’s going to bring Miss Stoddard back with him.”

  “Do you know anything about the shootin’?” Ringe questioned.