The Bitterroot Trail

by James W. Johnson

For a moment Bob drummed on the table. "Sure you haven't any idea what they were quarreling about?"

  "Shucks, I didn't want tuh tell yuh, but it was over a gal they's both sweet on."

  Bob's eyes shot flames of fire. "That's enough, Shorty! She's here some place, and we've got to find her!"

  "I don't think so, podner. They said something about her bein' watched by Three Finger in Elk City. Cleveland don't trust the scalawag, an' Plummer lays by him."

  Bob sprang to his feet, hitching his guns into place. "Come on, let's get through with it!"

  "Boss, ordinary, yuh got some sense in yore hair. Think twicet. This is Plummer's range, an' he's got a lot o' hangers-on here. If I don't miss my guess he's roundin' 'em up tuh herd 'em intuh the Basin. Yuh knows, as well as me, all his kind's in on every big strike. This gal stuff has turned yore noodle. Iffen yuh shows up there now, yuh've got tuh give 'em a chance tuh draw on yuh, an' one o' 'em would git yuh, shore as hell. Yuh knows too they's likely got friends."

  "Thanks, Shorty." Bob put his hand on Shorty's shoulder affectionately. As they strolled outside, Bob lighted his pipe and blew the white smoke skyward thoughtfully. Presently a wry smile crossed his tanned face. He stopped. "I've got an idea, Shorty," he whispered, "let's go over to the hotel and get a room."

  "Yuh aimin' tuh ambush 'em, podner?"

  "Better yet, Shorty. Something is sure to happen tonight, and I think we'll be at our journey's end."

  They crossed the street to a long log building, over the door of which hung a sign, "Hotel."

  There were three men in the big room. Two of them were playing checkers and never looked up. The other man, a miner they judged by his dress, was looking on. As they came in he straightened up and yawned.

  "Got a room for a couple of travelers?" Bob asked.

  The man leaned over to the old man with the grizzly beard, who was just going to move one of the black men, and shouted loud enough for the world to hear, "Got a room left, Dan?"

  "Eh?" the old man cupped a hand to his ear.

  The man leaned over closer. "Strangers! Got a bed?" he screamed.

  "Yuh want tuh bet? How much yuh want tuh bet I don't shunt him?"

  The man looked up at them shaking his head helplessly. "My Gawd, strangers, see fer yoreselves. He's deefer'n a post. Wouldn't know it if the whole shebang was tuh blow up."

  "Maybe yuh'd show us?" Shorty suggested, "since the old turtle there's stuck in the bog up tuh his belly."

  The man sputtered at them for a moment like a burning fuse, then exploded. "Say, who the devil be yuh what thinks I'm goin' tuh act nursemaid tuh growed-up men? I don't give a damn if yuh have tuh roost in a pine tree! Yuh both got eyes, and I notice yuh kin both walk!"

  "That porcupine makes a noise like a cannon," Bob quietly remarked, "but he's harmless as a mosquito in a windstorm. Come on, we'll take the first claim that's not staked." Turning to the irate man, he asked, "How much will the room be, providing we can find one?"

  "Ask that thar squat-headed, bow-legged skeeterbite yore teamin' with; he's so Gawdawful smart!" the man hissed.

  Shorty whirled about on one foot. Bob saw at a glance what was coming, and he jumped between them.

  "Easy, easy, Shorty."

  "Leave me be, Bob! All I aims tuh do is tuh pierce his ear! He ain't never wore earrings yet! He's jest a low-down Injun!"

  Bob gave him a shove that landed him almost to the door. "Don't go off half cocked, Shorty. Don't make an enemy in this stage of the game!"

  They pushed through the middle door into the next room. It was so dark Bob went back and appropriated a candle from a table. A survey of the room showed that there was a saddle hanging on a peg behind the outside front door and one lying on the floor at the foot of the bed. The saddle on the peg differed from the other in that it was showily carved, and across the broad horn had been carved the big letter "P".

  "This is what I call luck, Shorty! We've dropped right into their roost! But I think we'll hunt another stall."

  "They thinks a lot o' their precious saddles, eh, podner?"

  Bob nodded his head understandingly. "And there's a good reason. I'll find out later."

  The next room gave no evidence of being occupied, so they appropriated it. There was a rude home-made table under the back window; a couple of rawhide chairs; whipsawed floor; pegs on the wall for the belongings of the guests. There were no locks on the doors, but there were small poles standing in the corner, evidently for bracing closed doors.

  "Wal, podner, now we've squatted, what's next?"

  "You're through for tonight, Shorty. Better turn in. I'll be with you in a few minutes." He took from his pocket a piece of paper from an account book and wrote on it. "We'll try making them wipe each other out tonight. From what you say, they're in the right humor."

  "What?" protested Shorty, "yuh means we ain't goin' tuh have a chance tuh fight after follerin' these skunks through a rainstorm fer nigh on three days? I calls that a cheat!"

  "Don't be so sure, partner. There's sure to be powder burning tonight."

  "An' yuh wants me tuh go tuh bed like a ol' grandma?" Shorty grumbled.

  "Read that," Bob thrust the paper toward Shorty, "and shut up."

  "Aw, yuh read it, podner. My eyes is bad an' I lef' my specks home on the organ."

  Bob read, "Thanks, Plummer, fer tellin' me where tuh find Cleveland. I'll git him before mornin', then yuh'll have the gal tuh yoreself. A Vigilante."

  "By cracky! Won't that burn 'em up? Yore plumb smart, pard! Plumb smart!"

  Bob opened the door softly into Plummer's room, and feeling in the dark he located Cleveland's saddle. Then, spitting on the back of the note, he put it on the seat of the saddle and lifted the saddle to the bed. He hurriedly ransacked the saddle pouches. Just as he had expected, in one of the pockets he found a poke of dust, a part of what had been stolen from the post in Oro Fino. No wonder Cleveland was so careful of his saddle. Evidently he had cautioned the deaf hotel keeper to guard his treasure, but the old man had become so engrossed in the checker game he had forgotten it altogether.

  Just then Bob heard the scraping of chairs in the next room, indicating that the exciting game had ended. He hurried from the room without searching the bags in the other saddle. He was sure he would have found a mate to this pouch there.

  "Here's one of the gold pouches," he whispered to Shorty. "Sh-h! Someone came in the next room."

  A light showed under the crack of the door. The heavy thud of boots crossed the room to the bed. Bob and Shorty stood motionless, listening. A gasp of choking anger, then a voice quivering with rage, "Goddam you! Double-cross me, will you?" They recognized the deep voice of Plummer.

  Two guns roared at the same instant and the light went out. The thud of a falling body and scraping boots followed.

  Instantly Bob was at the door; he jerked it open just as a fleeing body escaped through the door. Shorty was at Bob's heels.

  "Get him, Shorty!" Bob yelled.

  The man on the floor was groaning. A half dozen men were swarming in through the doorway as Shorty pushed through.

  "Bring a light, somebody!" Bob called. "Let's see what's happened!"

  Men came crowding in. Somehow they had made the deaf hotel keeper understand and he came in carrying a lighted candle in a trembling hand.

  "Take the light!" he shouted, and thrust the candle into the hand of the man nearest him. He ran to the saddle and began fumbling hysterically in the pouches.

  Bob was stooping over the dying Cleveland. The man was conscious and grinned recognition of Bob.

  "You got me, damn you! What'd you know about--Dixie Lee?"

  "Where is she?" Bob shook him. "She saved my life, Cleveland! Listen! I tell you I love her! You're about to cash in. Do one good turn in your life and tell me where she is!"

  An ugly grin came over Cleveland's white face. "Aw, hell!" he mumbled, and for a moment lay still. "You'll never take Plummer," he said with an effort. "She won't be worth havin'.
..when...Three Finger...'ll " The head dropped lifelessly.

  The hotel keeper turned from the saddle bags. "The dust's gone!" he shouted. "The dust I was tuh guard! Git that feller, men, before he gits away!" All thought of the dead man was forgotten.

  Two guns appeared in Bob's hands like magic. "Back in the room here, all of you, or I'll see how many I can get! And don't leave here for ten minutes!" Slowly he backed from the room.

  Once outside he ran toward the stable. Both horses were saddled. Shorty had one mule packed.

  "He plumb got away, Bob. Thought yuh'd want tuh hit the trail!"

  "And damn quick! Don't bother with the other mule! Leave the rest of the stuff! They're after us! Be here any minute! Get going! I'll stay and hold them off until you get a little start!"

  Shorty, leading the pack mule, urged his horse into a gallop, with Bob at the mule's heels lashing him with his quirt at every jump. As they left the outskirts of the town a volley of shots followed from the saloon. Faster and faster they urged their mounts. Speed was now their greatest necessity.

  Far behind they could hear the drumming of pursuing hoofs. They had the advantage, however, of darkness, and the timber loomed up ahead. Once they reached that they would be safe. It wasn't likely they would be followed farther until daylight.

  As the hoof-beats became more and more distinct, the two swerved from the road down into Little Rattlesnake Creek. The rocky creek bed slackened their speed, but with grim determination they forged ahead. They wound round the shallow serpentine stream until they reached the point of a hill where the timber came down almost to the water's edge. They breathed a sigh of relief when at last they rode into the protecting arms of the big pines again.

  They stopped to listen. There was no sound save the blowing of their horses and the wind in the tree tops. Their surmise had been correct; their pursuers had not come beyond the timber line.

  "I believe we've given them the slip," Bob whispered cautiously, "but we can't depend upon it. Are you sure Plummer headed this way, Shorty?"

  "Shore. He jumped on one o' the horses hitched in front o' the Nugget."

  "He's got a lot the start of us," Bob commented, "but I believe he'll camp somewhere along the line. His horse is as near jaded as ours. Let's get moving. I'd like to meet up with that yellow-bellied skunk!"

  "Now, I ain't so doggone all-fired anxious to do no sech thing. Murder don't mean nothin' tuh that ringtailed rascal. He could pick us off, ridin' along this trail, as easy as pickin' birds offen a pole fence."

  "Well, we're between hell and the devil, any way you look at it. We can't stay here. Besides, we've got to get back to Oro Fino. We're heading for the Boise Basin and we've got no time to spare. We'll have to get in there before snow flies. I must find that girl. I couldn't stand to wait all winter, knowing that every minute she's in their hands she's in danger! Look what they did to my sister!"

  "I'm forkin' a big horse by yore side, podner. Punch this mule in the rear. Plummer er no Plummer, you an' me's pushin' on--maybe intuh the fiery furnace!"

  16

  DURING THE ABSENCES OF BOB AND SHORTY, four mule trains, men, and dancehall girls had passed through Oro Fino on the trail of the Grimes train, headed for the great gold strike in Boise Basin. The Ford Saloon was doing a rushing business and the mining town had risen to normalcy again.

  Daisy worked beside Jack Darling, while Jim looked after the affairs on the outside. During the week Jim made a trip into Lewiston for supplies for the saloon. It would be necessary to make at least one more trip to fit them out for coming winter. He bought four more pack mules in Lewiston, which brought the number up to twelve again. He was ready to start back for another load when Daisy called him to one side.

  "Jim, here's five hundred dollars. Get five more pack animals if you have to slit somebody's gullet to get them. That'll give us seventeen. If that bow-legged sidekick of mine and his podner hadn't got the gold fever when they get back, I'm a monkey's grandma. Between us we got enough money to fix up the grubstake."

  "Shore would please me, Miss Daisy. I got that disease so bad I kain't sleep nights. We'll all go if I has anything tuh say."

  "And bring back picks, axes, shovels, gold pans; soap, salt, sugar, salt bacon, pewter plates, knives and forks, blankets--oh yes, and gold pokes. Anything else you think we might need?"

  "Yuh done fergot the most important thing of all, Miss Daisy; plenty of ammunition."

  "What you got a fool head on your shoulders for, Jim Dale? Use it!"

  Jim grinned sheepishly and shied away to his waiting pack train. "Be back in three or four days," he yelled back.

  There had been no trouble on the trail to Lewiston since the destruction of the shebang. The gang seemed to have vanished with the Grimes train and the robbery of the post.

  "Oh, hang it!" said Daisy, watching the train disappear, "I forgot to tell him to bring some boots for Bob and Shorty. It'll be cold this winter goin' barefoot. Well, we'll see what kind of head he's got."

  Next day she had news of Jim from another train of ruffians going through. He was well on his way to Lewiston. The men stayed in town and celebrated nearly all night, and were gone with the rising sun again. The saloon had managed to extract nearly a thousand dollars from them. The partners' share of this, five hundred, she added to the fast accumulating cash in one of her cherished stockings.

  Daisy replaced the precious stocking under the mattress and went over to a peep-hole she had made in the wall. Through this she could see over the balcony into the big barroom. After the post had been robbed, Daisy made two peep-holes about two feet apart, large enough for the muzzle of a rifle. She told Jack about it, and he gave her two rifles. She kept them standing loaded in the corner.

  She picked the weapons up and examined them carefully. "In case of trouble they must be ready," she told herself. Standing the guns back in their places she yawned and put her slender fingers to her mouth. She was tired from the night's frivolities, so she lay down to sleep. In the enveloping haze of slumber she fancied she could see Shorty standing beside her.

  "Daisy," he was saying, "I got a itchin' feelin' in my heart fer yuh. I kain't live without yuh. What say we git hitched?" She smiled sleepily, tucking the pillow lovingly under her head, and fell asleep.

  She slept long into the afternoon. She arose and washed her face in cold water; took the hairpins from her hair and let the long blazing strands hang about her shoulders.

  She was worried about the long delay of Bob and Shorty. "What in the world can be keeping them?" she asked herself with a frown of perplexity. "Seven days today. What on earth could have happened? I'd die if anything happened to either of them. Jim ought to be back tonight or tomorrow, too."

  Disturbing her thoughts came the sound of scraping feet in the barroom. She tiptoed over to a peep-hole and looked through. A half dozen hard-looking bearded men were lined up against the bar. One of them wore a stubby beard of about a week's growth He was a large man with a black mustache, which he curled as he gazed furtively about. She had never seen the man, but sometime she had heard him described. The poise of his body was nonchalant, but his sharp eyes were searching out every corner. Even though he was not looking at her, he seemed to hold her in his spell as a snake holds a helpless bird before he strikes.

  Jack, she noticed, was watching him closely. He put the bottles and glasses on the table, and in doing so she saw him slip a hand under the counter. They were six to one if they started anything. Daisy was trembling like a quaking-asp leaf in a storm. It didn't look good to her.

  Then a cold metallic voice cut the air. "Stick 'em high, an' be quick!"

  As Jack's hands came up, his gun came with them. The big man's gun spoke, and Jack caught his wrist with a curse.

  "Deb, get behind there and get the cash!" commanded the big man.

  Daisy was instantly alive. She grabbed, not one, but the two rifles; pushed each through a porthole, lifted the butts to each shoulder, and aiming in a general directi
on she pulled both triggers. The detonation was deafening. The kick was almost disastrous. She picked herself up and grabbed one of the fallen rifles, flipped in a new shell and took her place at the hole again.

  Though neither shot found a human mark its unexpectedness had a disheartening effect upon the bandits. As the robbers turned to see whence the attack had come, Jack dropped behind the counter The confused bungling highwaymen beat a hasty retreat for the entrance. Daisy succeeded in getting in another shot as the last heels disappeared.

  From outside another staccato of shots followed, then the sound of galloping horses. Daisy ran through the room. By the time she got outside there was no one in sight. She hastened back in white from excitement. Jack was going about his work as though nothing had happened.

  "Hurt any, Jack?"

  "Naw! But they raised hell with the hammer on my six-gun. Know who that was?"

  "I never saw any of them before, but that fellow with the stubby beard looked familiar," she answered.

  "Plummer! I'd know him in a thousand!"

  A look of terror came over her face. "Then--then Shorty and Bob didn't get him," she faltered, as misgivings crowded into her brain. "Maybe they've been wiped out, Jack!"

  She started for the door again, just in time to see Bob and Shorty dismounting at the hitching post. All her pent-up feelings burst over the surface in honest tears as she rushed to Shorty and threw her arms about his neck.

  "And you're not killed!" she sobbed. "I thought you'd never come back!"

  "Aw, shucks, Strawberry," he shied and blushed. "Bob's lookin'! Heave away, gal! Did them outlaws git anything?"

  She shook her head, clinging to him like a leech.

  Bob by this time was interrogating Jack. "What happened, Jack? We were just riding in when we heard shots, so we dug spurs and come running. We got a few shots in but they were out of range."

  "Naw! But they would have, if it hadn't been for that Daisy. That's a real gal, Bob. After you left she made a couple of portholes over there through the wall of her room. We was up late last night so I thought she went up to bed. But while the gang was holdin' me up she puts a couple of cannons through them holes and blazes away. Don't know where she was aimin', but she just about got my scalp. It scared the hell out of them birds, anyway. They sure did skedaddle."