The Settling of the Sage

by Hal G. Evarts

  XIV

  The freight wagons rattled away from the Three Bar as the first lightshowed in the east, and the grind of wheels on gravel died out in thedistance as Harris and Billie finished their breakfast.

  They walked to the mouth of the lane and watched the light driving theshadows from the valleys. A score of times they had stood so, nevertiring of the view afforded from this spot, a view which spoke of ThreeBar progress and future prosperity. The hands had come in from theround-up the night before, prior to the return of Harris and Waddlesfrom their mysterious two-day trip in response to the sheriff'smessage, and Evans had led them to Brill's for a night of play. Theywere due back at the ranch in the early forenoon and Harris had allowedthe freighters to depart before the others arrived.

  "We'll be short of guards for the next hour or two," he said. "Tillthe boys get back from Brill's--but they'll be rocking in most any timenow."

  "What did Alden want?" she asked, referring to the trip from which heand Waddles had returned late the night before.

  "We made a call on Carp," he said. "He had some good news we've beenwaiting for."

  "Then Carp is a Three Bar plant," she said.

  "He's a U. S. plant," Harris corrected. "But he's been working in withus to get something on Slade--to gather proof that he's behind thesesquatter raids of the last few years and the ones they've aimed at usup to date. He couldn't get a shred that would hold in court. ButSlade is almost through. His claws are clipped."

  The girl started to question him as to Carp's activities but after thefirst sentence she became aware that his attention was riveted onsomething other than her words. He had thrown up his head like astartled buck and was peering down the valley.

  Her range-bred ears caught and correctly interpreted the sound whichhad roused him. A distant rumble reached her and the surface of theearth seemed to vibrate faintly beneath her feet. She knew the jar forthe pounding of thousands of hoofs, the drone for the far-off bawlingof frightened cows. A low black line filled the valley from side toside, rushing straight on up the gently-sloping bottoms for the ThreeBar flat.

  "They're on us," Harris said. "I might have known. Get back to thehouse--quick!"

  As they ran she noticed that his eyes were not upon the surging mass ofcows in the valley but were trained on the broken slopes back of thehouse.

  "Anyway, they don't want you," he said. "We'll do the best we can."

  Waddles stood in the door of the cookhouse, his big face flushed withwrath as he gazed at the oncoming sea of cows. He reached up and tookthe shotgun which reposed on two pegs above the door.

  He slammed the heavy door and dropped the bar as they sprang inside.

  "I made that prediction about clipping Slade's claws too soon," Harrissaid. "What with Slade locked up and Morrow six feet underground, Iwas overconfident. I might have known it was planned ahead."

  His face was lined with anxiety, an expression she had never beforeseen him wear even in the face of emergency. She had no time toquestion him about the assertions relative to Morrow and Slade.

  The front rank of the stampede was bearing down on the lower fence.The barrier went down as so much spider web before the drive; postswere broken short, wire was snapped and dragged, and three thousandhead of cows pounded on across the meadows.

  The girl had a sickening realization that the work of a year would beblotted out in a space of seconds under those churning hoofs. Itseemed that she must die of sheer grief as she witnessed the completedevastation of the fields she had watched day by day with such lovingcare. The stampede swept the full length of the meadow and held on forthe house. The acute stab of her grief was dulled and replaced by amental lethargy. The worst had happened and she viewed the rest of thescene with something akin to indifference.

  The foremost cows struck the corrals and they went down with asplintering crash under the pressure from behind. She looked out on asea of tossing horns and heaving backs as the herd rushed through, theheavy log buildings shaking from the mass of animals jammed againstthem and squeezing past.

  The force of the run was spent on the steep slope back of the house andthe herd split into detachments and moved off through the hills.

  The west side of the house was windowless, a blank wall built againstthe standing winds. Waddles was busily engaged in knocking out a patchof chinking and endeavoring to work a loophole between the logs.Harris was similarly engaged between two windows which overlooked theblacksmith shop, storerooms and saddle room that formed a solid line ofbuildings a hundred yards to the east. She reflected hazily that therewas little cause for such petty activity when the worst had happenedand the Three Bar had suffered an irreparable loss.

  Harris pointed down the valley to the south and she turned mechanicallyand crossed to that window. A few riders showed on the ridges oneither flank of the valley.

  "They were cached up there to pick us off if we rode down to try andturn the run," he said. "If it had been light they might have openedon the wagons. But they knew the rest hadn't started the cows."

  She nodded without apparent interest. What might transpire now seemeda matter to be viewed with indifference.

  "It's time for me to go," Harris said. "I'll hold the bunk house.Good luck, Billie--we'll hold 'em off."

  He turned to Waddles who still worked to make a loophole through theblank wall.

  "If it gets too hot put her outside and tell her to give herself up.Even Lang would know that the whole country would be hunting themto-morrow if they touched her. They won't if they can help it. Butthis is their last hope--to trust in one final raid. They'll gothrough with it. Make her go outside if it comes to that."

  He opened the door and leaped across the twenty yards of open spacewhich separated the main building from the bunk house. The fact thatno rifle balls searched for him as he sprang inside was sufficienttestimony that the raiders who might be posted in the hills back of thehouse were not yet within easy range. He barred the door and lookedfrom the south window. The riders along the valley rims had descendedto the bottoms. Smoke was already rising from one homestead cabin andthey were riding toward the rest. Two men had dismounted by the headgate.

  Harris cursed himself for not having anticipated this very thing. Thewhole plan was clear to him. Slade would have known of the implementsat the railroad waiting to be freighted in. He would have known, too,that when the cowhands came in from the round-up there would follow theinevitable night at Brill's. Morrow had mapped out the raid long inadvance, engaging Lang to gather the cows throughout the first nightthe round-up crew was in from the range and hold them a few miles fromthe ranch. In case the freighters failed to leave before the otherscame back from Brill's the raid would have been staged just the same;men cached along the lip of the valley to pick off all those who shouldattempt to ride down and turn the run; others ready to slip down frombehind and torch the buildings while the fight was going on in theflat. Lang could not know that Slade was locked up and that Morrow wasdead so the raid had gone through as planned.

  Smoke was rising from two more cabins in the flats and Harrisreproached himself for another oversight in allowing the wagons to pullout before the others arrived. The crop would have been ruined in anyevent but with the hands at home they could have prevented thedestruction of the cabins.

  He turned to the opposite side and scanned the face of the hills forsigns of life. Not a sage quivered to show the position of bodiescrawling through the brush; no rattle of gravel indicated the presenceof men working down through any of the sheltered coulees behind; yet heknew they were near. The silence was in sharp contrast to the rumbleand roar of the stampede just past. The only sounds which shatteredthe quiet were the muffled thuds of Waddles's hand-axe as the cookworked on a single idea and endeavored to gouge a loophole through thecracks of the twelve-inch logs. Harris transferred his attention tothe long line of log buildings a hundred yards to the east. The rowafforded perfect cover for any who chose that route of
approach. Theycould walk up to them in absolute safety, screened both from himselfand those in the main house.

  As he watched the doors and windows for sign of movement within a voicehailed them from the shop.

  "You might as well come out," it called. "We're going to fire theplant."

  Harris stretched prone on the floor and rested the muzzle of his rifleon a crack between the logs. It was hard shooting. He was forced toshift the butt end of the gun, moving with it himself to line thesights instead of swinging the free end of the barrel. He trained iton a crack some two feet from the door of the shop. Behind theaperture the light of a window on the far side showed faintly.

  "Come out!" the voice ordered. "Or we'll cook you inside. We've notime to lose. Rush it!"

  The light disappeared from the crack and Harris pressed the trigger.With the roar of his gun a shape pitched down across the door of theshop. Some unseen hands caught the man by the feet and as he wasdragged back from sight Harris saw the red handkerchief which hadserved as a mask.

  From all along the row of buildings a fire was opened on the bunkhouse. Apparently one man was detailed to search out a certain crevicebetween the logs. Harris threw himself flat against the lower logwhich barely shielded him. One rifleman covered a crack breast-high,another the one next below, drilling it at six-inch intervals. Shredsof 'dobe chinking littered the room. The balls which found an entrancesplintered through the bunks and buried themselves in the logs of thefar wall. A third marksman worked on the lower crack. Puffs of 'dobepulverized before Harris's eyes as the systematic fire crept toward himdown the crack in six-inch steps.

  A flash of dust a few inches before his nose half blinded him. Thenext shot drilled through an inch above his head, flattened sidewise onthe floor, and a fragment of shell-jacket, stripped in passing through,scored his cheek and nicked his ear. The next fanned his shirt acrossthe shoulders and the biting scraps of 'dobe stung his back.

  The shooting suddenly ceased. Billie Warren, dazedly indifferent as towhat should happen to the Three Bar since the wreck of the lower field,had roused to action the instant she saw the spurts of chinking flyfrom the cracks of the bunk house before the fusillade sent afterHarris. She threw open the door and stepped out, holding up one hand.

  "Don't kill him!" she commanded. "If you fire another shot at him I'llput up every dollar I own to hang every man that ever rode a foot withLang! Do you hear that, Lang?"

  "Lang's in Idaho," a voice growled surlily from the shop. "None of usever rode with Lang. We're from every brand on the range--and we'regoing to burn you squatters out."

  "Draw off and let us ride away," she said. "You can have the ThreeBar."

  "All but Harris," the voice called back. "He stays!"

  She threw up the rifle she carried and touched it off at a crack nearthe shop door. As the splinters flew from the edge of the log a figuresprang past the door for the safety of the opposite side and she shotagain, then emptied the magazine at a crevice on the side where he hadtaken refuge.

  "Get back inside, damn you!" a voice shouted. "We're going to wreckthe Three Bar--and you with it if you stand in the way. Get back outof line!"

  Harris knew that the men would not be deterred in their purpose--wouldsacrifice her along with the rest if necessary to accomplish their end.

  "Get back, Billie," he called from the bunk house. "You can't do usany good out there. Take the little cabin and sit tight. We'll beatthem off."

  A haze of smoke showed through the storeroom door, a bright tongue offlame leaping back of it.

  She turned to the door but Waddles had barred it behind her.

  "Take the little house, Pet," he urged. "Like Cal said. You'll besafe enough. We'll give 'em hell."

  She walked to the little cabin that stood isolated and alone, the firstbuilding ever erected on the Three Bar and which had sheltered theHarrises before her father had taken over the brand.

  The smoke had spread all along the row of buildings and hung in an oilyblack cloud above them, the hungry flames licking up the sides of thedry logs. The men had withdrawn after putting the torch to the row ina dozen spots.

  From her point of vantage she saw two masked men rise from the brushand run swiftly down toward the main house, each carrying a can. Shedivined their purpose instantly.

  "Watch the west side!" she called. "The west side--quick."

  The sound of Waddles's hand-axe ceased and an instant later the roar ofthe shotgun sounded twice from within the house, followed by the cook'slament.

  "Missed!" the big voice wailed. "Two minutes more and I'd have made areal hole."

  The muffled crash of a rifle rolled steadily from the house as Waddlesfired at the chinking in an effort to reach the two men outside. Butthey had accomplished their purpose and retreated, the house shieldingthem from Harris's field of view; and they kept on the same line, outof sight of the bunk house, till they reached a deep coulee whichafforded a safe route of retreat.

  The row of buildings was a seething mass of flames rolling up into theblack smoke. Flames hissed and licked up the blank wall of the mainHouse, traveling along the logs on which the two masked raiders hadthrown their cans of oil. The men outside had only to wait until theoccupants were roasted out. A stiff wind held from the west and oncethe house was in flames they would be driven down upon the bunk houseand fire it in turn. She knew Waddles would come out when it grew toohot. The raiders might let him go. It was Harris they waited for.

  The girl ran across and pounded on the bunkhouse door.

  "Run for it," she begged. "Make a run for the brush! I'll keepbetween you and them. They won't shoot me. You can get to the brush.There's a chance that way."

  "All right, old girl," Harris said. "In a minute now. But you goback, Billie. Get back to the little house. As soon as it gets hotI'll run for it. I've got ten minutes yet before I'm roasted out.I'll start as soon as you're inside the house."

  "No. Start now!" she implored. The flames were sliding along one sideof the house and even now she could feel the heat of them fanned downupon the bunk house by the wind. "Run, Cal," she entreated. "Runwhile you've got a chance." She leaned upon the door and beat on itwith her fists.

  "All right, Billie," he said. "I'll go. You stay right where you areas if you're talking to me."

  She heard him cross the floor. He dropped from the window on the farside from the men. When he came in sight of them he was running inlong leaps for the brush, zigzagging in his flight. Their gaze hadbeen riveted on the girl and he gained a flying start of thirty yardsbefore a shot was fired. Then half a dozen rifles spurted from twohundred yards up the slope, the balls passing him with nasty snaps. Hereached the edge of the sage and plunged headlong between two rocks.Bullets reached for him, ripping through the tips of the sage abovehim, tossing up spurts of gravel on all sides and singing in ricochetsfrom the rocks.

  One raider, in his eagerness to secure a better view, incautiouslyexposed his head. He went down with a hole through his mask as a shotsounded from the main house. From the window, his big face red anddripping from the heat, Waddles pumped a rifle and covered Harris'sflight as best he could, drilling the center of every sage that shookor quivered back of the house.

  Two men turned their attention to the one who handicapped their chancesof locating the crawling man and poured their fire through the window.A soft-nose splintered the butt of the cook's rifle and tore a strip ofmeat from his arm as another fanned his cheek. He dropped to the floorand peered from a crack. The firing had suddenly ceased. He saw a hatmoving up a coulee, a mere flash here and there above the sage as theowner of it ran. As he watched for the man to reappear, the roof ofthe whole string of buildings to the east caved with a hissing roar andbelched sparks and debris high in the air.

  The fire was filtering through the cracks and circling its hungrytongues inside. The smoke hurt his eyes and the heat seemed to crackhis skin. He crossed over to see if Harris was down; t
hat wouldaccount for the sudden cessation of shooting from the hills back of thehouse.

  The raiders in the lower field were riding swiftly for the far side ofthe valley. One man knelt near the head gate, then mounted and jumpedhis horse off after the rest. Waddles put the whole force of his lungsbehind one mighty cheer.

  Fifty yards back in the brush Harris cautiously raised his head todetermine the cause of this triumphant peal.

  Far down along the rim of the valley, outlined against the sky, fourmules were running as so many startled deer under the bite of the lashand six men swayed and clung in the wagon that lurched behind. Highabove the crackle of the flames sounded Tiny's yelps, keen and clear,as he urged on the flying mules. Three men unloaded from the wagon asit came opposite the cluster of men riding far out across the flats.They opened a long-range fire at a thousand yards while the othersstayed with the wagon as it rocked on toward the burning ranch.

  Billie was running to the brush at the spot where Harris haddisappeared. He rose to meet her.

  "Cal, you're not hurt?" she asked.

  "Not a scratch," he said. "Thanks to you."

  In her relief she grasped his arm and gave it a fierce little squeeze.

  "Then it's all right," she said.

  Waddles burst from the door of the burning house, his arms piled highwith salvage.

  "We'll save what we can," Harris said and started for the house. As heran the valley rocked with a concussion which nearly threw him flat anda column of fragments and trash rose a hundred feet above the spotwhere the head gate had been but a second past.

  A dozen running horses flipped over the edge of the hill and plungeddown toward the ranch. The men were back from Brill's. Tiny haltedthe mules on the lip of the valley and the three men came down theslope on foot.

  Harris held up his hand to halt the riders as they would have kept onpast the house. He knew that the raiders stationed behind the ranchhad long since reached their horses and were lost in the choppy hills.He waved all hands toward the buildings and they swarmed inside,carrying out load after load of such articles as could be moved andpiling them out of reach of the flames.

  The girl sat apart and watched them work. Her lethargy had returned.It seemed a small matter to rescue these trinkets when the Three Barwas a total wreck. The wind fanned the flames down on the bunk houseand one side was charred and smoking. The men drew back from the heat.Tiny spurts of fire flickered along the charred side. Then it burstinto a sheet of flame.

  Harris spoke briefly to Evans and the tall man nodded as he itemizedthe orders in his mind.

  "Now I'll get her away from here," Harris said. "It's hell for her tojust sit there and watch it burn."

  He caught two of the saddled horses that had carried the men fromBrill's and crossed over to where she sat.

  "Let's ride down to the field," he said. "And see what's got to bedone. I expect a week's work will repair that part of it all right."

  She gazed at him in amazement. He spoke of repairing the damage whilethe Three Bar burned before his eyes. But she rose and mounted thehorse. He shortened her stirrup straps and they rode off down what hadonce been the lane, the fence flattened by the rushing horde of cattlethat had swept through.

  The homestead cabins smoked but still stood intact.

  "Look!" he urged cheerfully. "Those logs were too green to burn. Wewon't even have to rebuild. They'll look a little charred round theedges maybe, but otherwise as good as new."

  Behind her sounded a gurgling roar as the roof of the main house fellbut Harris did not even look back.

  "We can restring that fence in a right short while," he asserted."We've lost one crop of oat-hay--which we didn't much need, anyhow.That young alfalfa is too deep rooted to be much hurt. Next springit'll come out thick, a heavy stand of hay; and we'll cut a thousandtons."

  They rode across fields trampled flat by thousands of churning hoofsand reached the spot where the head gate had been, a yawning hole atwhich the water sucked and tore. A section of the bank caved and waswashed away. And through it all he planned the work of reconstructionand the transformation which would be effected inside a year,--whilebehind them the home ranch was ablaze.

  "We're not bad hurt," he said. "They can't hurt our land. I'd ratherhave this flat right now--the way it stands--than three thousand headof cows on the range and no land at all. We can rebuild the place thiswinter while work is slack. Build better than before. Those buildingswere pretty old, at best. There'll be enough hungry cowhands ridinggrub-line at the Three Bar to rebuild it in two months. Every man thatfeeds on us this winter will have to work."

  His enthusiasm failed to touch her. For her the Three Bar was wrecked,the old home gone, and her gaze kept straying back to the eddying blacksmoke-cloud at the foot of the hills.