"Oh, how can I ever repay you, Mrs. Windless?" she replied, laughing and crying at the same time. "I'll keep it a secret, and I hope we can be friends always."
While they were talking they heard horsemen ride into the yard; then they heard subdued voices. Both women stared apprehensively toward each other. A gentle knock came at the door. Dixie arose to answer it.
As she drew the door back a little cry broke from her lips. There in front of her door stood Bob and Shorty carrying the dead body of her father. Daisy jumped to catch the swaying Dixie as she fell into a faint.
Bob's face was pale and drawn. Without a word they placed the body of John Lee on the bed, then turned their attention to Dixie.
When she began to revive Bob turned to Daisy. "Tell her it was Bob Bainbridge who killed him. He was a claim jumper and fought back when we went to take our property."
"I can't tell her that, Bob Bainbridge, you lummox! She loves you. She couldn't stand it, poor child. Get to blazes out of here. Then come back after a while and bury her father. It's the least you can do."
After they rode away Dixie opened her eyes, and for several moments lay still. When she spoke it was with surprising calmness.
"I heard what he said, Daisy. I don't think I'll write that note we spoke about."
"Don't be in a hurry to make up your mind, child. But of course you won't do it today. I'll get the truth out of them damned rascals, and when I do you'll hear a different story."
"But he was my father!" she moaned sadly, "even if he was in bad company!"
"I know, I know, child. But if Bob Bainbridge killed him, it was an accident, or he didn't know who he was shooting at. No one can shake my opinion of Bob Bainbridge. He never would have killed your father, knowin' it, and he never killed a man who was obeyin' or upholdin' the law. I own he's bitter against Plummer and his gang because his own sister was ruined and destroyed by them. And unless you let him protect you they'll get you too."
Dixie's mind revolved Plummer's scheme to marry her, and she knew that Daisy spoke the truth. "I'll kill myself first!" she declared bitterly.
"That's about what Nan, Bob's sister, done. Now listen, Dixie. You're all upset and this is no time to talk about such things. I want you to come home with me while the boys bury your father. No, you won't need to meet Bob if you don't want to. He lives out in the flat alone."
Dixie had been sobbing quietly. "That's good of you, Daisy, but I can't go tonight."
"Then I won't move a peg. I'll stay right here with you, child. Why, I wouldn't rest a minute knowin' that you was up here all alone and at the mercy of that gang."
"Sh-h! There's someone coming, Daisy!"
The door was pushed roughly back, and Plummer stood in the opening. Seeing Daisy he stopped in surprise.
"Who's this, Dixie?" he demanded roughly.
Dixie wiped the tears from her cheeks. "A friend of mine. One of the prospectors' wives just called in. She was here when they brought John home."
The explanation seemed to suffice, for he addressed himself to Dixie without noticing Daisy again.
"Sorry about John Lee, gal. Two men, Buck and Dante, come riding in this morning, hell bent and right on their heels was a couple of lawbreakers. I had to lock my two men up to protect them. They had taken some claims up in the head of the valley, and was jumped this morning and shot up. That's how come your father was shot. I brought some of the deputies to bury the old man."
"You don't need to bother, Plummer. I have friends who will attend to that," Dixie advised him quietly.
"Friends? Who the hell's the friends?" he shot back.
"This woman's husband, for instance. We'll get along. Thanks, just the same."
"Oh, yes?" he sneered. "I'm still boss around here, and don't make no mistake! John Lee was one of my deputies, and we bury our own dead!" He turned to the door. "Get down, men!" he ordered. "There'll be a shovel and pick around here. Get busy now and dig a grave for the old man. And now, Dixie, Buck told me some news this morning. Bob Bainbridge is here and he's at the bottom of this! There'll be hell to pay as long as he's in the Basin!"
Dixie caught her breath at mention of Bob.
"Know Pokerface Bob, the Vigilante?" he asked. "Well, he's no Vigilante any longer. He's outside the law now, and we're sitting in the saddle. I'm offering a thousand dollars for his head. I guess that'll finish him," he chuckled.
Dixie eyed him angrily without flinching. "So, you consider your own hide worth one thousand dollars? That's what I thought! If there's one person living who chills the blood in your veins it's Bob Bainbridge! I wouldn't stake too much on that reward saving your neck!"
"So, you figure on turning against me, huh?" he snarled evilly. "Nobody, man nor woman, turns against Hen Plummer and gets away with it! Besides, I'm planning to make you my woman Why, dammit, I'd even marry you if you'd act right. But right or no right you're going to be Plummer's woman!"
Daisy walked up to Plummer and with hands on hips spoke up. "I don't claim any acquaintance with you, Plummer, for I'm in the habit of associatin' with honorable folks, but I'll gamble on this: You'll never marry Dixie Lee!"
"So," he said, "it's you who's been putting notions in the gal's head. Well, we'll see about this!"
"Dixie Lee is plenty smart herself, Hen Plummer! The thing that surprises me most is that the sheriff of this territory'd make threats against women, which is against law and order. What do you think the honest miners in this Basin'd do if they was to hear what I've heard you say today?"
"Oh, you're going to squeal, eh?" he snarled dangerously.
"I didn't say so, sheriff," Daisy remarked wisely, "but I'm a friend to Dixie Lee, and as long as she ain't molested against her will, I don't care a tinker's dam what you do."
Plummer grinned over what he considered a victory. "That sound's more like it. Now, let me tell you something for your own good, woman. If you want to remain the healthy gal you are, don't meddle in the sheriff's business. When you hear bullets, duck, for we're going to run the outlaws out of this country."
"But just suppose," Daisy interrogated, "that some of your deputies should jump some claims and shoot some innocent miners?"
"I'd lock them up and they'd be tried by the miners meeting, same as anyone else. But we can't just let the miners take the law in their own hands. I'm just telling you this to put your mind at rest, so that you'll understand that I'm on the side of law."
"I see," said Daisy quietly.
The men came in at this moment to take the body away. Dixie controlled her feelings surprisingly well. She stooped down and kissed John Lee goodbye.
"It wouldn't have been like this if Mother had lived," she whispered to him softly. "I'm glad you're out of it at last."
After the men had gone to perform the last rites for John Lee, the two women sat in silence together. Dixie was crying softly to herself. Outside the ground was white, and the snow was still falling.
Presently they heard the men as they came back to their horses. They heard Plummer say, "Now, we'll take a look for these new outlaws. Remember, Pokerface Bob is not to be given a chance. He's greased lightning and sudden death with his guns."
Dixie crept over to Daisy and buried her face in her lap. Daisy stroked her flaxen hair sympathetically.
"Cry it out, child," she soothed, "then you'll feel better. When you're through you're going home with me."
23
ANOTHER GRAVE HAD BEEN DUG IN PLACERVILLE that day, and forty solemn men had led the way from Shorty's cabin through the falling snow to the mound of fresh earth. There in the stillness of a white world was gently lowered the body of old Dad Bridger. How different from the burial of John Lee, who, with a blanket around him, had been thrown into a hole by men who valued human life no more than they valued a weed in a garden plot.
For Bridger a casket had been constructed--rough, of course--of whipsawed lumber; and a Masonic funeral with all its sacred rites had been held. After reverently dropping in the pine twig
s, with bared heads the men repeated the Lord's Prayer.
Daisy timed it just right to return with Dixie after the services for Dad Bridger were over. Dixie had been burdened enough with her own grief without seeing the results of another killing.
Out of respect for the women, the men returned to Jim's cabin. Then followed the first meeting of the kind ever held in the Boise Basin. Bob explained the purpose of the meeting. Now that they knew who their friends were he was glad to speak.
"Men," he began, "this is a solemn occasion when we are called upon to defend our own rights and to avenge the death of a brother and comrade. I am not blaming any of you men who voted for Plummer for sheriff. Your motive was a good one: to establish law and order in the Basin. You were deceived into voting into office the leader of the biggest gang of murderers, robbers, and cutthroats who ever rode this western soil. Their slimy trail is red from Lewiston this way.
"Plummer had himself elected for the sole purpose of hiding his crooked murderous acts. I've followed him and dogged his trail and that of his gang for over a year, eliminating one or two of them at a time. But there are two left, the worst of the lot. I have never been able to meet face to face with Plummer and his now chief deputy, Three Finger Smith.
"Plummer is wise. His works of evil are done in the dark. He stays in the background and directs the wicked activities of his gang. He's refined and polished; a deceiver. Three Finger Smith is his paid killer and lieutenant. I have no grudge against Plummer except that he is the brains of the gang. Three Finger, I have reason to kill. Plummer will run when things get too hot. Three Finger will fight, and he's fast with a gun."
No one interrupted him while he continued to speak, for they all realized from what had happened the night before that what he said was true.
"Yesterday morning," he continued, "Dad Bridger, a harmless old miner and brother, was shot down in cold blood while trying to keep members of the Plummer Gang from jumping his claim. Two of them, when we attacked, got away. Shorty, my partner, and Pete Ranger followed the fugitives to town and learned that the sheriff had locked them up for safe-keeping. They have no fears, because if they are ever tried their own gang would swear them out of hell itself. I say we must have a Vigilance Association to cope with this lawlessness!"
And so the Vigilance Association was organized with Bob Bainbridge as captain, and a committee was chosen to draft by-laws.
As they filed out of the cabin to go to their various homes, five horsemen, spies of Plummer, stood in the edge of the clearing, open-mouthed at seeing such a force. As one after another of the grim-faced men emerged from the cabin, the snoopers gave spurs to their horses and disappeared toward Bannock.
After the Vigilantes had gone Shorty drew Bob aside, and with a twinkle in his eye confided some real news to him.
"Listen, podner, Daisy brought Dixie back with her. I don't know how the hell she done it, but she's over to the cabin now."
"What?" Bob was excited. "Say that again, Shorty!"
"Aw, you heerd me the first time. It'll come out all hunkydory fer yuh yet, podner."
After a moment's thought Bob shook his head. "No, Shorty, she'll never forgive me now. But I'm glad she's here. And Shorty, we must see that nothing happens to her. God! How I love her!"
"O' course; Daisy says she's plenty hostile now, an' yuh needn't try tuh see her fer awhile. But that Strawberry Roan of mine'll bring her around all right."
"I'll be careful, Shorty. But we have some business on hand tonight. I didn't tell the others because what we have to do, you and Jim and I can do easier and with less risk than a crowd. We're going into Bannock."
"In this snow storm?" Shorty queried dubiously.
"So much the better. We'll strike again before they get their breath--I mean Plummer and Three Finger Smith. We can't beat them in election; they have too many followers in camp. But we've got to begin putting the fear of the devil into them. Call Jim."
Jim had gone to the stable, but came at Shorty's call. Bob explained everything to him, and told him he would throw in with him occasionally, perhaps all the time, until this trouble was over. Jim was pleased with the prospect of having Bob's companionship.
It was midnight and still snowing. Already there were six inches of snow on the level and no indication of any let-up. They rode quietly down the trail to Bannock City. The only lights in town were those in the two resorts, and they were never out, for the resorts were never closed. A man could get drunk there and stay night and day until he exhausted his money before being thrown out.
The three had consumed almost two hours of their journey. They passed down the main street south, past the saloon and the new rock jail. They could easily see the two guards in front of the jail. Proceeding south for two blocks, they tied their horses in an alley and circled back to the rear of the jail.
"Now, Shorty, you and Jim go around the building. Both guards are in front. You take them and I'll get the prisoners."
Shorty and Jim, each flattened against the wall, worked their way toward the front of the building with Bob right at Shorty's heels. The guards were not expecting any trouble, and were panic stricken when they found themselves staring into the muzzles of two guns.
"Don't yeep," Shorty commanded, "or we'd be obliged to blow yore brains out!"
While his companions held the guns on them, Bob searched them for the key to the jail. "We'll just put them in here for safe-keeping, boys," Bob said quietly as he fitted the key in the lock. Turning to the guards, "We're just taking a couple of prisoners out for their exercise," he said. "If they don't return just inform your boss sheriff that they've left the country, and we think they went up."
There was a stir and frightened whines from the inmates when the door opened. Just as Bob expected there were only two prisoners.
"Shut up, you rats!" Bob commanded sharply. "We're taking you on a little picnic! If you go peaceably there'll be no trouble, but if you don't--well, we'll do to you what you did to poor defenseless old Dad Bridger!"
"But we didn't do it!" whined the man called Buck. "Honest tuh God, Pokerface! We's ready tuh stand trial if yuh thinks we done it!"
"Yes!" Bob snarled disgustedly. "I always hated a coward! Dry up! It won't do any good to whine. Your friends can't help you this time! Gag the guards, boys. They might feel a desire to yell for help and give the alarm."
The work proceeded smoothly without a mishap. The guards were safely locked up and Dante and Buck were forced ahead of Jim's and Shorty's guns until they got to the horses. There ropes were tied around each of them, pinning their arms to their sides. Bob and his companions mounted and drove them ahead of them like cattle in the blinding storm for a mile. Buck cursed and babbled angrily, then pleaded. The loose snow was half way to their knees and still coming. The timber looked black and formidable about them.
Shorty looked over at Bob. "Say, podner," he said, "I ain't curious nor nothin', but I'm wonderin' why we don't get this necktie party over with. Hell! We's passed two or three trees heavy enough tuh hold these road agents, an' we musta come over a mile. I don't see no earthly reason why we ought to pick out any special tree fer 'em."
"We're not going to hang them, Shorty," Bob advised. "That would be too good for them."
"What's the use o' trailin' 'em along this way then?" Shorty argued. "Might as well wiped 'em out back there an' saved this ride!"
"I can't shoot them down in cold blood, Shorty." Bob was no killer for killing's sake. He never shot a man without giving him an equal break. He knew these men deserved to be hanged, but he wouldn't have it on his conscience. "I've decided to give them one chance in a hundred for their lives."
At length they halted their horses. Bob addressed the prisoners, who were trembling from head to foot.
"Have you renegades got anything to say?" Bob demanded roughly. "This is as far as we're going."
"Yuh ain't goin' tuh shoot us down?" Buck bewailed. "Yuh wouldn't do that tuh us, Pokerface! We ain't never done nothin'
tuh yuh!"
Dante stood stock still and looked down in disgust at the whiner. So far he had taken the whole thing with contempt. For the first time he spoke.
"Get up, you damned coward! Let 'em shoot an' be damned!"
"Don't fret," Bob advised calmly. "I'm not going to do that if you do what I ask. You are to leave this territory for good. Your friend Plummer isn't going to be able to do anything for you. It might interest you and help you make up your minds to know that the Vigilance Association was organized this afternoon, and it's men like you who are its bacon. If you agree never to show up in this neighborhood again, I'll let you try to make it to Fort Boise. You'll only have to walk about thirty miles to the roadhouse, and you can maybe make it to the fort next day. If you don't, it won't be my fault. Your limit in Fort Boise is three days. If you're there after that time I'll pick you up and I'll shoot you on sight. What do you say?"
"Hell, yore kind!" Dante mocked. "In a storm like this we ain't got a Chinaman's chance to make it!"
"I'll take the chance, Pokerface!" Buck cried out eagerly, glad enough to grab at any opportunity to keep from being shot.
"Wal," Dante drawled, "I ain't so anxious tuh be shot either, when it comes tuh that, so if yore goin' I'll trail along--but we're both damn fools !"
"Undo the ropes, Shorty," Bob directed. "We've got to get back."
Shorty untied the ropes and turned the prisoners loose. They rubbed the circulation back into their arms while Bob and his companions looked on, waiting for them to start out over the white unbeaten trail.
"Yuh ain't sech a bad scout, Pokerface, turnin' us out with such bright chances as this!" Dante emphasized his words with a sweeping gesture. "A lot o' men woulda wiped us out mercifully, but yuh are plumb different--yuh has a preference fer a slow death!"
"Don't thank me! Get going!"
"Don't push me, Poker--I ain't used tuh bein' shoved! Besides, I wants tuh give yuh something in return fer what yuh've done fer us tuhnight. Yuh think yore the cock o' the walk in these diggings. Wal, yuh ain't. More'n two thirds o' the men in this Basin is with Three Finger. Yuh think Plummer's the king pin. Wal, he ain't. He's scairt tuh death o' Three Finger. He's out after yore scalp. He's startin' by postin' a thousand dollars more fer yore hide. Let that sink in, an' go tuh hell with my blessin'!" He stamped angrily away through the snow.
The Bitterroot Trail Page 18