The Cattle-Baron's Daughter

by Harold Bindloss

  XXVI

  LARRY'S REWARD

  Late one night Larry came home to Fremont, wet with rain and splashed withmire, for it was thawing fast and he had ridden far. He sloughed off hisouter garments, and turned to Breckenridge, who had been waiting him, witha little, weary smile.

  "The dollars are safe, any way, and that is a big load off my mind," hesaid. "Gillot has them in his safe, and nobody can touch them without acountersigned order from the executive."

  Breckenridge heaved a sigh of relief, for he knew that Gillot, who had astore in the railroad town, was a determined man, and quite capable oftaking care of what had been entrusted him. The dollars in question, whichhad been raised by levy and sent by sympathizers, had been placed inLarry's hands to further the homesteaders' objects in that district as hedeemed advisable. He had, however, for reasons Breckenridge was acquaintedwith, just relinquished the responsibility.

  "I think you were wise," said the lad. "It roused a good deal of feelingwhen you wouldn't let Harper and his friends have what they asked for, andthe boys were very bitter at the meeting while you were away!"

  "Well," said Grant drily, "I knew what they wanted those dollars for, andif I'd had twice as many I would not have given them one."

  "They could not have done much harm with the few they wanted, and it wouldhave saved you a good deal of unpleasantness. I didn't like the way theboys were talking, and it was quite plain the men who kept their headswere anxious. In fact, two or three of them offered to come over and sleephere until the dissatisfaction had simmered down."

  "You did not accept their offer?"

  "No, but I wish you would."

  Grant shook his head. "It wouldn't suit me to own up that I was afraid ofmy friends--and I don't want to believe there are any of them who wouldinjure me. If there were, I could not draw trigger on them in defence ofmy own property."

  "Then we will hope for the best," said Breckenridge, somewhat doubtfully.

  Grant, who had had supper somewhere else, presently retired, andBreckenridge, who found the big room dreary without him, followed a littlelater. It was long before he slept, for he had seen the temper of the morereckless spirits at the meeting he had attended, and he could not shakeoff the memory of his comrade's face. Larry had made no protest, butBreckenridge could understand what he was feeling. The ranch was veryquiet, but he did not think his comrade slept; in this, however, he waswrong, for, worn out by physical effort and mental strain, Larry had sunkinto heavy slumber.

  Two or three hours later Breckenridge awakened suddenly. He sat uplistening, still a little dazed with sleep, but nothing disturbed thesilence of the wooden building, and it was a moment or two before the moanof the wind forced itself on his perceptions. Then, he thought he heardthe trampling of a horse and stealthy footsteps in the mire below, and,springing from his bed, ran to the window. The night was dark, but hecould dimly see a few shadowy figures moving towards the house. In anotherminute he slipped into part of his clothing and hastening into Grant'sroom shook him roughly.

  "Get up! There are men outside."

  Larry was on his feet in a few seconds and struggling into his garments."Light the lamps downstairs," he ordered.

  Breckenridge stood still, astonished. "That would give them an advantage.They might be the Sheriff's boys."

  "No," said Larry, with a laugh that sounded very bitter, "I don't thinkthey are! Go down, and do what I tell you."

  Breckenridge went, but his fingers shook so that he broke several sulphurmatches in his haste before he had lighted one big lamp in the log-builthall. Then, as he turned towards the living room, there was a pounding onthe door, and while he stood irresolute Grant, partly dressed, camerunning down the stairway. Two other men showed dimly behind him, butBreckenridge scarcely saw them, for he sprang through the doorway into theunlighted room, and the next moment fell over a table. Picking himself upwith an objurgation, he groped along the wall for the rack where therifles stood, and was making his way back towards the blink of light withtwo of them in his hands, when a hoarse voice demanded admission and thedoor rattled under the blows showered upon it. Then, as he came out intothe hall, Grant turned to him.

  "Put those rifles down," he said quietly.

  Breckenridge stared at him. "But----"

  "Put them down!" said Grant, with a little impatient gesture; Breckenridgelet the weapons fall but he was pleased to see the cook, who now stood atthe foot of the stairway, slip softly forward and pick up one of them.Grant was looking at the door and did not see the man move back half-wayup the stairs as silently as he came.

  Once more a hoarse shout rose from outside: "Open that door before webreak it in!"

  For a moment or two, as if to give point to the warning, the door creakedand rattled as the axe-heads beat upon it, and then the din ceasedsuddenly, for Grant, who recognized the voice, raised his hand.

  "Open it for them," he said, so loudly that he could be heard outside.

  Breckenridge was almost glad to obey. It would have pleased him better tohave taken his place, rifle in hand, with the cook on the stairway, butsince Grant had evidently determined not to oppose the assailants'entrance by violence, it was a relief to do anything that would terminatethe suspense. Still, his heart throbbed painfully as he seized the bolt,and he glanced round once more in what he felt was futile protest. Grant,who evidently saw what he was thinking in his face, only smiled a littleand signed with his hand.

  Breckenridge drew the bolt, and sprang backwards as the door swung open.Men with axes and rifles showed up in the light; but while here and therean axe flashed back a twinkling gleam, or a face shone white, the rest wasblurred and shadowy, and he could only see hazy figures moving against theblackness of the night. His companion was standing alone in the middle ofthe hall, motionless and impassive, with nothing in his hands.

  "Now," he said, in a voice that jarred on Breckenridge's ears, "the dooris open. What do you want?"

  "We want you," said one of the men outside.

  "Then, I'll come out and talk to you," said Grant.

  Breckenridge laid a restraining hand upon his arm, but he shook it off,and moving forward stopped just outside the threshold. The lad could notsee his face, but he noticed that he stood very straight, with his headthrown back a trifle, and that one or two of those without edged fartherinto the shadowy crowd. Glancing behind him, he also saw the cook leaningforward on the stairway with the rifle glinting in his hands.

  "Well?" said Grant, and his voice rang commandingly.

  "We have come for the dollars," said a man. "We want them, and they'reours."

  "Then, you must ask your committee for them. They are not in my house."

  "Bluff!" said somebody; and an angry clamour broke out.

  "Hand them out," cried one voice, "before we burn the place for you."

  Larry swung up one hand commandingly, and Breckenridge felt a thrill ofpride when, as if in tribute to his comrade's fearlessness, a suddensilence followed. Larry stood alone, statuesque in poise, with armstretched out in the face of the hostile crowd, and once more the respectthe men had borne him asserted itself.

  "You will listen to me, boys, and it may be the last time I shall speak toyou," he said. "You know that right back from the beginning I have donethe best I could for you, and now I feel it in me that if you will waitjust a little longer the State will do more than I could ever do. Can'tyou understand that if you go round destroying railroad-trestles, shootingcattle, and burning ranches, you are only playing into the hand of yourenemies, and the very men in the legislature who would, if you kept yourpatience, make your rights sure to you, will be forced to turn the cavalryloose on you? Can't you sit tight another month or two, instead ofthrowing all we have fought for away?"

  The silence that followed the speech lasted for a space of seconds, andthen, when Breckenridge hoped Grant might still impose prudence upon thecrowd, there were murmurs of doubt and suspicion. They grew rapidlylouder, and a man stepped out from the rest.

/>   "The trouble is that we don't believe in you, Larry," he said. "You werewith us solid one time, but that was before the cattle-barons boughtyou."

  A derisive laugh followed, and when Grant turned a little Breckenridge sawhis face. The bronze in it had faded, and left paler patches, that seemedalmost grey, while the lad, who knew his comrade's pride and uprightness,fancied he could guess how that taunt, made openly, had wounded him.

  "Well," he said, very slowly, "I can only hope you will have moreconfidence in your next leader; but I am on the list of the executivestill, and if the house was full of dollars I wouldn't give you one ofthem with which to make trouble that you'll most surely be sorry for. Anyway, those I had are safe in a place where, while your committee keeptheir heads, you will not lay hands on them."

  A shout of disbelief was followed by uproar, through which there brokedetached cries: "Pull him down! He has them all the time! Pound them outof him! Burn the place down for a warning to the cattle-men!"

  They died away when one of the men, with emphatic gestures, demandedattention. Moving out from the rest, he turned to Grant. "You have riflesand cartridges here, and after all, those are what we want the most.Now--and it's your last chance--hand them out."

  "No," said Grant.

  The man made a little gesture of resignation. "Boys," he said, "you willhave to go in and take them."

  Grant still stood motionless and unyielding on his threshold, but he hadonly a moment's grace, for the men outside surged on again, and one swunga rifle-butt over him. Breckenridge saw his comrade seize it, and hadsprung to his side when a rifle flashed on the stairway behind him and aman cried out and fell. The next instant another rifle-butt whirled, andGrant, reeling sideways, went down and was trampled on.

  Breckenridge ran towards the rifle still lying in the hall, but before hecould reach it there was a roar of voices and a rush of feet, and the menwho poured in headlong were upon him. Something hard and heavy smote himin the face, and as he reeled back gasping there was another flash on thestairway. His head struck something, and he was never sure of whathappened during the next half-hour.

  When, feeling very dizzy, Breckenridge raised himself in the corner wherehe had been lying, the hall was empty save for two huddled figures in thedoorway, and while he blinked at them in a half-dazed fashion, it seemedto him that a red glare, which rose and fell, shone in. He could alsosmell burning wood, and saw dim wreaths of smoke drive by outside. Hishearing was not especially acute just then, but he fancied that men weretrampling, and apparently dragging furniture about, all over the building.Then, as his scattered senses came back to him, he rose feebly to hisfeet, and finding to his astonishment that he still possessed the power oflocomotion, walked unevenly towards the motionless objects in the doorway.One of them, as he expected, was Grant, who was lying very white andstill, just as he had fallen.

  "Larry," Breckenridge said, and shivered at the sound of his own voice."Larry!"

  But there was no answer, and Breckenridge sat down by Grant's side with alittle groan, for his head swam once more and he felt a horrible coldnesscreeping over him. How long he sat there, while the smoke that rolled infrom outside grew denser, he did not know; but by and by he was dimlyconscious that the men were coming down the stairway. They clustered abouthim, and one of them, stooping over the injured homesteader, signed to hiscomrades.

  "Put him into the wagon, and start off at once," he said.

  Three or four men came out from the rest, and when they shuffled away withtheir burden, the one who seemed to be leader pointed to Grant as heturned to Breckenridge.

  "He would have it, and the thump on the head he got would have put an endto most men," he said. "Still, I don't figure you need worry about buryinghim just yet, and I want a straight answer. Are those dollars in thehouse?"

  Breckenridge sat blinking at him a moment, and then very shakily draggedhimself to his feet, and stood before the man, with one hand clenched. Hisface was white and drawn and there was a red smear on his forehead.

  "If you would not believe the man who lies there, will you take my word?"he said unevenly. "He told you they were not."

  "I guess he spoke the truth," said somebody. "Any way, we can't find them.Well, what is to be done with him?"

  Breckenridge, who was not quite himself, laughed bitterly. "Leave himwhere he is, and go away. You have done enough," he said. "He gave you allhe had--and I know, as no other man ever will, what it cost him--and thisis how you have repaid him."

  Some of the men looked confused, and the leader made a deprecatorygesture. "Any way, we'll give you a hand to put him where you want."

  Breckenridge waved him back fiercely. "I am alone; but none of you shalllay a hand on him while I can keep you off. If you have left any life inhim, the touch of your fingers would hurt him more than anything."

  The other man seemed to have a difficulty in finding an answer, and whilehe stared at Breckenridge there was a trample of hoofs in the mireoutside, and a shout. Breckenridge could not catch its meaning, but themen about him streamed out of the hall and he could hear them mounting inhaste. As the rapid beat of hoofs gradually died away, looking up at asound, he saw the cook bending over his comrade. The man, seeing in hiseyes the question he dared not ask, shook his head.

  "No, I guess they haven't killed him," he said. "Kind of knocked all thesenses out of him; and now I've let the rest out, we'll get him to bed."

  "The rest?" Breckenridge asked bewildered.

  The man nodded. "Yes," he said, "I guess I got one or two of thehomestead-boys, and then Charley and I lit out through a back window, andslipped round to see why the stockboys weren't coming. It was quitesimple. The blame firebugs had put a man with a rifle at the door of theirsleeping shed."

  Three or four other men trooped in somewhat sheepishly, though, as thecook had explained, it was not their fault they had arrived after thefight was over; and while they carried their master upstairs Breckenridgethought he heard another beat of hoofs. He paid no great attention to it,but when Larry had been laid on the bed glanced towards the window at thestreaks of flame breaking through the smoke that rolled about a birch-logbuilding.

  "What can be done?" he said.

  "I don't know that we can do anything," answered the cook. "The fire hasgot too good a holt, but it's not likely to light anything else the waythe wind is. It was one of them blame Chicago rustlers put the firestickin."

  "Pshaw!" said Breckenridge. "Let it burn. I mean, what can be done forLarry?"

  "We might give him some whiskey--only we haven't any. Still, I've seenthis kind of thing happen in the Michigan lumber-camps, and I guess he'smost as well without it. You want to give a man's brains time to settledown after they've had a big shake-up."

  Breckenridge sat down limply on the foot of the bed, faint and dizzy, andwondering if he really heard a regular, rhythmic drumming through thesnapping of the flame. It grew louder while he listened, and a faintmusical jingling became audible with it.

  "That sounds like cavalry," the cook said. "They have been riding roundand seen the blaze."

  And a few minutes later a voice rose sharply outside, and some, at least,of the riders pulled up. The cook, at a sign from Breckenridge, went down,and came back by and by with a man in bespattered blue uniform.

  "Captain Cheyne, United States cavalry--at your service," he said. "I amafraid I have come a trifle late to be of much use; but a few of my menare trying to pick up the rustlers' trail. Now, how did that man get hurt,and what is the trouble about?"

  Breckenridge told him as concisely as he could, and Cheynes bent over thesilent figure on the bed.

  "Quietness is often good in these cases; but there is such a thing ascollapse following the shock, and I guess by your friend's face it mightbe well to try to rouse him," he said. "Have you any brandy?"

  "No," said Breckenridge. "It has been quite a time since we had that orany other luxuries in this house. Its owner stripped himself for thebenefit of the men who did their best to ki
ll him."

  Cheyne brought out a flask. "This should do as well," he said. "You cantell that man to boil some water, and in the meanwhile help me to get theflask top into your partner's mouth."

  It was done with some difficulty, and Breckenridge waited anxiously untila quiver ran through the motionless body. Then Cheyne repeated the dose,and Larry gasped and slowly opened his eyes. He said something the otherscould not catch, and closed them again; but Breckenridge fancied a littlewarmth crept into his pallid skin.

  "I guess that will do," said Cheyne. "In one or two of my stations we hadto be our own field hospital; but I don't know enough of surgery to takethe responsibility of stirring up his circulation any further. Still, whenyou can get them ready, we will have hot bottles at his feet."

  "My boys have got the fire under," Cheyne said, coming in an hour later."Now, I have been in the saddle most of the day, and while your cook haspromised to billet the boys, I'll have to ask you for shelter. If you toldme a little about what led up to this trouble, it might pass the time."

  "I don't see why I should," Breckenridge informed him.

  "It could not hurt you, any way," suggested Cheyne, "and it might do yougood."

  Breckenridge looked at him steadily, and felt a curious confidence in thediscretion of the quiet, bronze-faced man. As the result of it, he toldhim a good deal more than he had meant to do when he commenced the story.

  "I think you have done right," Cheyne said. "A little rough on him! I hadalready figured he was that kind of a man. Well, I hear the rest of theboys coming back, and I'll send up a sergeant who knows a good deal aboutthese accidents to look after him."

  The sergeant came up by and by and kept watch with Breckenridge for awhile; but, after an hour or so Breckenridge's head grew very heavy, andthe sergeant, taking his arm, silenced his protests by nipping it andquietly put him out of the room. When he awoke next morning he found thatGrant was capable at least of speech, for Cheyne was asking him questions,and receiving very unsatisfactory answers.

  "In fact," said the cavalry officer, "you don't feel disposed to tell mewho the men that tried to burn your place were, or anything about them?"

  "No," Larry said feebly. "It would be pleasanter if you concluded I wasnot quite fit to talk just now."

  Cheyne glanced at Breckenridge, who was watching him anxiously. "In thatcase I could not think of worrying you, and have no doubt I can find out.In the meanwhile I guess the best thing you can do is to go to sleepagain."

  He drew Breckenridge out of the room, and shook hands with him. "If youare wanted I'll send for you," he said. "Keep your comrade quiet, and Ishould be astonished if he is not about again in a day or two."

  Then, he went down the stairway and swung himself into the saddle, andwith a rattle and jingle he and the men behind him rode away.