CHAPTER XLII
OUTLAWS!
Mr. Braden, some twenty-four hours after his interview with Judge Riley,made the shocking discovery that in all probability he had laid down apat hand before a bluff. But though the discovery brought him to theverge of an apoplectic fit, it came too late. He had signed a statementcovering the facts. Under the circumstances it did not matter who hadthe deeds. If Garland, then his scheme of blackmail would fall down. Mr.Braden found ample to occupy him in the crisis which the loss of thecoal property made in his affairs.
The fact was that he was very hard up. The supposed ownership of apromising coal mine had bolstered up his shaky credit. But as soon as itwas known that this was no longer his, one or two creditors would comedown on him and start an avalanche. And then, though Riley had promisednot to prosecute, it was inevitable that some suspicion of crookednesswould attach to him. Under the circumstances he was forced to theconclusion that he had played out his string. He had been wise to securecash. He could raise a few thousand more, and as soon as he did so hewould pull out. At once he began to convert his few remaining assets,and as he turned them into cash he put it in his office safe, in aprivate compartment. The total formed a nice nest egg for the future.His creditors in the course of time might get judgment and be hanged tothem, but the cash would be where it could not be tied up byinjunctions.
Nevertheless, the strain told on his nerves. For some time he had sleptbadly, and now he slept scarcely at all. Whisky, which formerly had hada soporific effect, now failed, though he doubled the quantity.
And so, as Angus rode home through the darkness, Mr. Braden lay awake.His mind, after the habit of the insomniac, searched for, dug up andturned over the most unpleasant things within his recollection, drivingsleep farther and farther away. It dwelt upon mistakes, failures,humiliations of years before. The wind roared and rain splashed upon thewindows; and Mr. Braden, cursed by a thousand plaguing little devils ofmemory, cursed the night and the darkness and longed for day.
At last he dozed, but was awakened by a muffled, jarring reverberationwhich shook his bed slightly. It was much like localized thunder. He laylistening, and his ear caught a sound below.
Somebody was in his office. In an instant he was out of bed. Hereflected that the boss of a local logging camp who had a payroll tomeet the next day, had deposited a considerable amount of cash in hissafe. No doubt that was what the robbers were after. But they would notoverlook his own cash, too. He could not obtain help until too late. Hemust stop them single-handed, if at all.
His knees shaking slightly, Mr. Braden padded softly across the room toa wardrobe from which he took an old hammer ten-gauge shotgun, found abox of antique shells, and filled the chambers. Then he stole cautiouslydown stairs.
The door of his office was closed. He turned the knob and gently openedthe door a crack. In the darkness the rays of a flashlight flickered onhis open safe. Figures were vaguely outlined. He could not tell howmany there were. Obviously, the thing to do was to cover them with theshotgun, but light was necessary, for otherwise they might attack him inthe dark. His office was wired, and just beside the door was a switch.He put the gun to his shoulder, holding it with one hand while he feltfor the switch. He found it, turned it, and the office sprang intolight.
Three men were beside the safe. One held a flash light, another themouth of a gunny sack to which the third was transferring the safe'scontents.
"Hands up!" Mr. Braden commanded in a voice which shook badly.
The three men sprang erect. Mr. Braden recognized Gavin, Gerald andLarry French. They had made no attempt to conceal their faces. Theyblinked, frowning in the sudden light.
"You infernal scoundrels!" cried Mr. Braden. "Put up your hands! Putthem up I tell you. If you make a move I'll shoot."
Mr. Braden's mistake was in reiteration. Etiquette and common sensealike demand that instant obedience to a gun be enforced by the gunitself. In this case the muzzle of the gun wavered and wobbled badly.
"Put that gas-pipe down!" Gavin said contemptuously.
"Put up your hands!" Mr. Braden repeated. "I'll shoot, I tell you. Iwill! I--"
Quite by accident, in response to unintentional pressure of an unsteadyfinger, the ten-gauge roared and the shot charge, almost solid at thatshort range, passing between Gavin and Gerald struck and spatteredagainst the steel wall of the safe. Instantly, Gerald jerked asix-shooter from its holster and fired and fired twice.
Mr. Braden's face assumed an expression of dumb wonder. The shotgunsagged, exploded again, and the charge ripped the floor. He sankdownward, pitched forward, and lay still.
"Hell's fire!" cried Gavin. "What did you do that for?"
"What for?" Gerald returned. "Because I don't want to be shot, myself."
"He didn't mean to shoot. He wouldn't have shot again."
"Then he was damned careless," Gerald replied. "One barrel of a shotgunis plenty for me. It was coming to him."
But in a rolling explosion of oaths Gavin cursed his brother for a fool.He had spilt the beans. There would be a devil of a row. They would haveto make a get-away.
"What for--if he can't talk?" Gerald asked.
But at that moment Larry uttered an exclamation. He pointed to a window.Against the pane below the drawn blind was a face white in the reflectedlight. Almost instantly it vanished. Outside they heard running feet.
"How about a get-away now?" Gavin demanded. "He's gone to get help. Iknow him. He's a clerk in Park's law office."
"I guess that settles it," Gerald concurred coolly. Swiftly he scoopedthe remaining currency into the sack. "Well," he added, "we've gotsomething to make a get-away on."
"Come on, come on," young Larry urged.
"Keep cool," said Gerald.
"If you'd kept cool," the younger man retorted, "we could have bluffedBraden."
But none of them voiced a regret for Braden himself. His death, if hewas dead, was to be deplored merely as it might affect them. Gavinturned the huddled figure over and swore afresh.
"You're too smooth with a gun, Jerry. He isn't dead yet, but I guesshe's got his. Now we have to beat it."
They emerged on the streets and ran for their horses, tethered on theoutskirts of town, mounted and pounded off on the trail toward theranch. They rode fast, but without forcing their horses, for later theywould need all that was in the animals.
The ranch was dark as they rode up to it. They loosened cinches, removedbridles and gave the horses feed. Entering the house they began to throwan outfit together.
Gavin, mounting the stairs, knocked at his sister's door.
"I want to talk to you, Kit."
"In the morning."
"No, now."
"Come in, then."
She sat up in bed as he struck a match and lit the lamp. As he turned toher the big man's cold, blue eyes softened a shade in expression. He saton the side of the bed and put his arm around her.
"Kittens, old girl, I've only got minutes. Jerry, Larry and I have gotto pull out." He told her why, bluntly, feeling her body tense andstiffen. "So that was how it was," he concluded. "And now here's whatwe're going to do: We're going to break north through the hills and workup into the Cache River Valley. Then we'll go east or west, whicheverlooks best. We may split up, or not. Here's some money--no, no, this isall right. Braden never saw this. It's mine. Don't give any of it toBlake. And here's what you do: This place is sunk with a mortgage, sosell your own horses and quit it. Let the tail go with the hide. Get outof here, and wherever you go subscribe for the _Pacific Spokesman_. Readthe 'lost' column every day, and when you see an ad. for a lost horsewith our brand, answer it. I'll be doing that advertising. I guessthat's all. I'm sorry, Kit, but it's the best I can do for you now."
"Yes, it's the best," she admitted. "Don't worry about me. I was goingto leave here anyway. I'm going to do something, I don't know just what.But ever since father died I've known I couldn't go on as we've beengoing. You've made an awful mess of things--you boys. I've seen
yougoing down hill--from bad to worse--losing your self-respect and that ofothers, falling lower and lower, till it has come to--this.
"And I've gone downhill myself. I've lived on money, knowing how it wasobtained, and saying nothing. I'm not preaching. I'm not finding fault.But I'm through. And I'm through with you boys unless you change. Of thewhole lot, you're the only one I care anything about. I don't know ifyou care anything about me, but if you do you're the only one who does.You've always been fair and decent to me, anyway, I--I'd loved you--ifyou'd let me."
"Damn it, Kit," her brother replied, "why didn't you say something likethat before? I've been fond of you ever since you were a baby, but younever let me see you thought anything more of me than the otherboys--and that was mighty little. Well--what you say is true. I'm arotten bad lot, but all the same I'm just about as sick of the show asyou are. And I'll tell you this much: If I can get clear now I'll make afresh start--I've been thinking of the Argentine--and if you'll go withme, I'd like it."
"I'll go," she promised. "But suppose you don't get clear?"
The big man shrugged his shoulders. "Then I lose out. I'm not going torot in the pen. You can say a little prayer if you feel like it."
She stared at him, somber-eyed. "I suppose that's the best way, afterall."
"The only way. And now I must rustle an outfit."
"I'll be down in a minute," she said.
She came down to the apparent confusion of their preparations. Each haddrawn on his personal outfit. Gerald and Larry nodded to her. She saidlittle, made no reproaches, helping them silently, swiftly. SuddenlyLarry paused, throwing up his head, lifting his hand. Upon the suddensilence burst the sound of swift hoofs. The brothers looked at eachother.
"Go upstairs, Kit," said Gavin, "and stay there."
But in a moment it was evident that there was but one horse. The doorwas tried, shaken. A furious oath came from outside.
"It's just Blake," said Larry, and unfastened the door.
Blake stared at his brothers, at their weapons, at the outfit piled inthe room.
"What's this?" he asked.
"You may as well know," said Gerald and told him. "And you keep yourmouth shut," he concluded.
Blake laughed with a certain relief. "I've got to make a get-awaymyself. I'm going with you. I shot up Angus Mackay."
"You shot Angus!" Kathleen cried. Her face went white, and she clutchedthe back of a chair. "Do you mean that he is dead?"
"No," Blake replied. He had learned that much from Garland, who haddecided that it would be safer for him to part company and had done so."He'll get over it, I guess."
"What started it?" Larry asked.
"He came for me and I downed him," Blake replied sullenly. "Never mindwhat started it."
"You're lying!" Kathleen told him fiercely. "I know you, Blake. You'dnever have faced him if he had had a gun. You shot him in the back, orunarmed."
But Gavin interposed.
"If you're coming with us, get a move on. Rustle your own outfit."
They gave Blake scant time. Immediately Larry began to pack two ponies.If necessary these could be abandoned, but meanwhile they would save thesaddle horses. In a few minutes they were packed. All but Gavin mounted.In the hall he took Kathleen in his great arms and kissed her.
"Good-by, Kit. No telling how this will come out. Remember what I toldyou."
"I'll remember," she said. "Good-by, Gan--and good luck."
He released her and swung into the saddle. In a moment they had vanishedin the darkness, heading north for the pass which led into thewilderness of the hills--outlaws.
The Land of Strong Men Page 42