CHAPTER XVI.
A LETTER FROM THE DEAD.
Ted was brooding over the appearance of Farnsworth, and the startlingevents which followed, and particularly the crime at Rodeo, of which theyoung fellow had fallen under suspicion.
Ted believed that Farnsworth was innocent of the crime.
But his flight from the town, and the question he had put to Ted whenthey met in the road, as to whether Ted had heard the news from Rodeo,were enough to convict him in the mind of any person prone to suspicion.
But Ted looked at matters of this sort differently than most people. Inthe first place, his experience had taught him that actions which seemedmost suspicious often proved most innocent.
That Farnsworth knew of the murder of Helen Mowbray before he quittedRodeo his question to Ted left no doubt, and the shadow of suspicionunder which he had lived was reason enough for him to leave the townbefore its discovery. He knew the dangerous temper of the people, andthat it would take very little to arouse them against him, andprecipitate them into a lynching, with himself as the central figure.
Ted had heard that Fancy Farnsworth was the worst man in Arizona, andthat he had the most ungovernable temper, the quickest eye, and swiftest"draw" of a gun in the Territory.
He was a gambler against whom nobody seemed to be able to cope, for heinvariably won. It had been said that he was not a straight gambler, butthose who said it did so only once, as they were incapable of saying ittwice, for by that time they had been shot full of holes by the cardsharper.
Why it was that Farnsworth always escaped punishment at the hands of theauthorities no one knew, except that they lacked the nerve to forceprosecution against him, and that he invariably had a good excuse forkilling a man; at least, one that made good in that rough country, whereevery man was of a size because all carried revolvers.
But even while Ted believed that Farnsworth was innocent of the murderof Miss Mowbray, he felt that some day he and the dashing young fellowwould meet on the battlefield as enemies.
But it was the strange resemblance between him and Major Caruthers thataffected Ted more than anything else, and he often wondered that themajor had not noticed it himself.
Major Caruthers found Ted on the veranda turning these things over inhis mind after breakfast. Coming to his side, the old gentleman threwhis arm around Ted's shoulder and said:
"Ted, I'm rather worried about that young chap Dickson, or Farnsworth,whichever he is. I was greatly attracted to him, and intended to invitehim to stay with us several days, when those deputy marshals entered andaccused him of a crime that horrifies me. Somehow, I feel that he isguilty, although I want to believe in his innocence, as you so bravelyadvocated when we all were too cowardly to do so. But if he wasinnocent, why did he not stay and face his accusers, and go back toRodeo with the marshals and prove himself innocent?"
"He never would have got as far as Rodeo," said Ted quietly.
"Why not? He was under arrest and in the guard and custody of fourdeputy marshals, officers of the United States."
"They would have prevailed no more than if they had been dummies, whichI strongly suspect they were."
"Um, how is that?"
"They were sent out from Rodeo as marshals, but the mob that would havemet Farnsworth at the outskirts of the town, to hang him, was the realboss. Those marshals would no more dare defy that mob than they wouldfly. In the first place, they were not of the real stuff, as was provedby their conduct when they entered your house and saw Farnsworth in themiddle of the floor and dared not go to him."
"Well, I'm glad he got away, but I am sorry he had to steal your pony todo it."
"That's all right about the pony. I'm betting I'll get it back one ofthese days. And, besides, there was nothing else for him to do."
"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed the major. "That was the neatest thing I ever saw,the way he got into that saddle and deliberately put that pony at thewindow."
"It sure was nervy," said Ted, with a reminiscent smile.
"Wasn't it the most dramatic thing you ever saw? I can see it yet.Farnsworth dodging those deputies and their bullets, and before any oneknew what his plan was, leaping upon the pony and jumping through theglass. By Jove, it was fine. I never was so excited in my life."
"It certainly was very dramatic. Almost like a thing one would see inthe theater."
"Yes, but a lot more exciting, because it was the real thing. By theway, Ted, there was something about that young fellow that I cannotexplain to myself. I was quite strangely affected when he took me by thehand. And every time I looked at him it gave me a feeling as if he wassomehow mixed up in my life, or would be in the future."
"That is strange. I wonder who he is. His name is not Dickson, nor is itFarnsworth. Of course, there is a mystery behind him somewhere, and hehas a name which he is concealing. Suppose we take a look through hiseffects. He had a saddlebag in which there may be something by which wecan identify him."
"Very well. I don't believe it would be unfair to him to do so. Youknow, we might be able to help him if we know his real name andaddress."
They went into the room which had been assigned to Farnsworth, but whichhe had had no opportunity to occupy.
In one corner they found his saddle, a very ornamental and expensivepiece of horse furniture, trimmed with silver and made of the mostexpensive leather.
Beside it lay a bag which could be fastened to the cantle of the saddle.
It fastened with a snap lock, which was easily opened, and then Ted, ata nod from the major, began to turn out its contents.
First came a pair of silver-mounted hairbrushes and several toiletarticles, showing that even in the desert young Farnsworth did notneglect his personal appearance. There were some clean shirts andhandkerchiefs, and in the bottom of the bag another leather case.
"If he has anything by which he may be identified, it is in here," saidTed. "But this is locked. Shall I force it?"
"I believe you'd better," answered the major.
"I don't care much about doing it," said Ted, "but as it is to help himI suppose I might as well."
The major nodded, and with the blade of his knife Ted soon had the bagopen.
The first thing he came to was a photograph of a beautiful woman, atwhich he looked intently for a few moments.
It seemed to him that he had seen her, or some one very like her,somewhere before.
Then he passed it over to the major, and reached his hand into the bagonce more.
Suddenly he was interrupted by a startled cry, in which there was a toneof pain and surprise, from the major.
Looking up, he saw that the major was as white as a sheet, and that hishand trembled violently.
"What is it?" Ted asked, striding to the major's side.
But Major Caruthers was too shaken by emotion to reply at once.
He continued to stare at the picture with devouring eyes, his facealternately flushing and paling. He was gasping as if he would speak,but the words would not come.
"Do you know her?" asked Ted gently.
The major nodded his head for reply.
"What else do you find?" he managed to ask finally.
Ted emptied the contents of the bag upon the bed.
Among them was a package of old letters carefully tied.
"Look at those letters," commanded the major hoarsely.
Ted untied the string, and took one letter from the pack and opened it.It had been opened and folded so many times that it was with difficultythat Ted could open it now without having it fall to pieces.
"You read it before I do," said the major, who was suffering from agreat, nervous strain, and showed it in his face and trembling hand.
Ted spread it on the bed and bent over it.
In the upper left-hand corner was a faded crest of a tower, over whichwas a coronet.
"My dear, wandering boy," the letter began, "I do not know where youare, or if you are well and alive, or are in trouble, for I have notheard from you for many mon
ths. I am sending this at random into thatgreat America in the hope that it may reach you some day to tell youthat your mother is constantly thinking of you. Your brother Jack isstill in India with his regiment, but will soon retire and come home.Your sister Helen and her husband are I know not where. Mowbray turnedout very badly, as your father believed he would, and he had to run fromhis creditors, and the enemies he had made through his dishonestpractices. I don't know where they are, but it is my belief that theyhave gone to America. I wonder if you will ever run across them? If youdo, tell Helen to leave the beast and come home, and both her father andI will forgive, and she can take her place here as if she had never methim. And this leads me to tell you that your father has greatly changedsince you left us, and has even said that he was sorry for hisharshness, and wished you had stayed with us. We are very lonely withall of our children away from us. Come back to your mother, and all willbe different."
There were many expressions of mother love in the letter, which wassigned and dated from The Towers, Huntingdon, several years before.
After reading the letter Ted passed it to the major without comment, andwalked to the window, that he might not be a witness to his emotion.
He was now very sure that by the strangest of circumstances MajorCaruthers had come across a bit of personal history, and that it wasgiving him a heart-tearing experience.
In a moment he heard the sound of a sob behind him, followed by others,which, however, subsided gradually, and he heard his name called.
Ted came to where the major sat on the side of the bed, holding thephotograph in his hand.
"It is the picture of my sister," he said quietly, for he was now themaster of his emotions.
"Then Farnsworth is your brother," said Ted.
"Yes, my brother, poor chap," answered the major, gulping down a sob.
"It is strange, very strange," muttered Ted, almost to himself. "I feltsure you were related, there was such a strong resemblance between you."
"I didn't notice it. Why didn't you speak of it?"
"Farnsworth knew that you were his brother, and I have no doubt he wouldhave made himself known to you had he not been compelled to flee beforethe deputy marshals. I know that he was deeply affected at meeting you,and saw that he hesitated to make himself known."
"I didn't know him. I had not seen Fred since he was a little boy, whenI went into the service. Then he went away to school, and I to India. Iam much older than he, so we did not meet. When I returned to Englandfrom India he had disappeared on account of a foolish row with ourfather. Our only sister, Helen, had married a scamp against the wishesof the family, and had left England also. Shortly after that both ourparents died, and I came to America with the intention of finding bothmy sister and brother, and this is how it has turned out."
Tears were coursing down the major's pale cheeks.
"Don't you see how it is?" he asked, holding out the photograph to Ted.
Suddenly it dawned upon Ted, and he took the photograph and gazed at iteagerly.
It was Helen Mowbray, the sister of the major and of Farnsworth, or FredCaruthers, to give him his real name--the woman who had been strangledto death in her house at Rodeo.
This was a shock indeed.
The complications which had arisen in these few hours were sufficient toshatter the strongest nerves, and Ted himself trembled a little at thepossibilities unfolded by this unforeseen and unexpected knowledge,while it entirely unnerved the major, and left him as weak as a child.
What was to be done? It was not likely that Fred Caruthers could befound at once. That he knew that it was his sister who had beenmurdered, and that he was charged with the crime, would be sufficient tospur him on and on, his brain and heart filled with horror. And that hehad just found his brother, who might have given him all the moralsupport he needed at such a time, only to be driven from him by the fearof mob law, which he knew would give him no chance whatever for hislife, was an additional sting.
The major sat on the edge of the bed with drooping head, holding in onehand the letter from his dead mother, and in the other the photograph ofhis murdered sister.
He was too dazed with the suddenness of the shock with which therevelation had come to him to stir.
Ted saw that he must be roused from this immediately.
"Come," he said, placing his hand gently, on the major's shoulder, "wemust do something at once."
"What can we do?" asked the major, in a stifled voice.
"In the first place, we must ride to Rodeo with all speed. Do not forgetthat your sister lies there dead, and that it is your duty to care forher."
"Of course. I had forgotten. All the ghosts of the past crowded in uponme until I forgot my duty to the dead. We will go at once. Will you takecharge of things? I am not able yet to do so."
"Certainly. Leave it all to me."
Ted left the major with his relics of the dead and the revelations ofthe present to compose himself, while he went out to make arrangementsfor the ride to Rodeo.
Ted knew the difficulties and prejudices they would meet when they gotto Rodeo, and feared that before the unpleasant details attending theburial of the dead woman were finished they might clash with theauthorities or the townspeople.
Therefore, he decided that they should go well able to defend theirrights, and, calling the boys together, he told them as briefly aspossible the story of the major and his newly found brother and sister,as the reader knows it.
"Now, fellows, we must help the major straighten out this tangle, burythe dead, defend the innocent, and punish the guilty," he said gravely."Arm yourselves and saddle, ready to take the road to Rodeo as quicklyas you can."
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