"Do be careful of your life, dear Bill," she said. "You are all in all to me. If you perish, life will be valueless to me."
"Addie, I'll try to live for your sake, and work my uttermost to achieve what will give you and me peace and quiet in the end. Good-night, once more good-night, my beautiful, my own."
"Good night, Bill–God bless you!" she sobbed; as she turned her horse, and followed the Texan at a gallop.
* * *
CHAPTER VIII.
FOILED BY A WOMAN.
It was their last night in town before breaking up camp, and the Black Hillers, as they already called themselves, under Chichester, were determined to have a lively time of it.
They commenced "wetting up," or pouring down liquid lightning in camp, but, being reminded that what they used there would be missed on their journey, they started to skin the saloons in town, and finish out their spree where it would not diminish their own stores.
As Wild Bill said, they were going where money would be of little account, if all the stories about the gold to be found were true; so what they spent now they wouldn't have to carry. And they went in, as such reckless men generally do, spending their money as freely as they could, and drinking with a "looseness" that promised headaches on the morrow, if nothing more.
Wild Bill went in on the spree with a rush, as if he wished to drown the remembrance of his late fright, and despite the cautions of his friend, Captain Jack, who strove hard to keep him within bounds.
California Joe of course was in his element, and in a little while all the party became so turbulent that Crawford left them in disgust. For, as Addie Neidic had said of him, despite his associations, he was a gentleman.
By midnight every saloon had been visited, and many of them pretty well cleaned out, and now Bill proposed to go and break a faro bank that some of the party spoke of.
"I have seven hundred dollars left out of a thousand my woman gave me before I started," said he. "I'll lose that, or break the bank; see if I don't."
All of the party who were sober enough went with Bill, and soon he was before the green board.
Without even waiting to get the run of the game, be planked a hundred dollars on the king, and lost. Without a word, he put two hundred dollars more on the same card, and won. He left the four hundred down, and in another turn he had eight hundred.
"Luck is with me, boys!" He shouted. "I'll break the bank! Let her swing for the king once more, Mr. Dealer!"
To the wonder of all, though it was the last turn of the cards, the king won, and Wild Bill picked up sixteen hundred dollars.
His friends now urged him to quit, but the demon of the game had entered his soul, and he swore, with a terrible oath, that he would play till he broke the bank, or was broke himself.
A new pack was now put in the box, and once more the dealer cried out:
"Make your bets gentlemen–make year bets! The game is ready!"
Bill, with a reckless bravado, as much of rum as of his own nature, again laid all his winnings on one card–this time the queen. And with wonderful luck–it could be nothing else–he again doubled his pile, this time his gains being thirty-two hundred dollars.
"Stop now, Bill!" cried California Joe, "This can't last!"
"It shall last! The bank can't stand more than two more such pulls!" shouted Bill, wildly.
And again on the same card he staked his entire winnings.
The dealer and banker were one; he turned pale, but when all bets were down, he pulled his cards without a tremor in his hand. But a groan broke from his lips as the queen once more came out on the winning side.
Once more Bill's stakes were doubled, and this time he changed his card.
The banker hesitated. His capital would hardly cover the pile if Bill won again.
"Keep on," whispered a voice in his ear; "if he breaks you, I'll stake your bank."
The banker looked up and saw, though she was disguised in male attire, a face he well knew. It was that of Addie Neidic, and he knew she was able to keep her word.
Wild Bill had heard the whisper, and his face was white with rage, for he thought the bank would succumb before it would risk another chance with his wonderful luck.
But he let his money lay where he put it, and cried out to the banker to go on with his game if he dared.
The latter; with firm set lips, cried out:
"Game ready, gentlemen–game ready."
The cards were drawn, and once more Wild Bill had won.
Coolly, as if money was no more than waste paper, Bill gathered up the pile, and began to thrust it away in his pockets, when the disguised woman, Addie Neidic, thrust a roll of thousand dollar notes into the hands of the banker, and cried out:
"This bank is good for fifty thousand dollars. Let no braggart go away and say he has bluffed the bank, till he breaks it!"
Wild Bill trembled from head to foot.
"I know you!" he hissed. "You are the woman who bluffed me at the livery-stable. I'll win your fifty thousand dollars, and then blow the top of any man's head off who'll take your part!"
"Play, don't boast; put up your money!" was the scornful reply.
In an instant Bill put every dollar he had won, every cent he had in the world, and a gold watch on top of that, on the Jack.
Not another man around the table made a bet. A pin could have been heard, had it fallen to the floor, so complete was the silence.
The banker cried out, "Game ready," and slowly drew the cards.
"Jack loses!" he cried, a second after, and Bill's pile, watch and all, was raked in.
"Devil! woman or not, you shall die for this!" he shouted, and his hand went to his belt.
But even as his hand touched his pistol, he heard that fearful whisper, "sister," and saw a white face, wreathed in auburn hair rise over Addie Neidic's shoulder, and with a groan, or a groaning cry of terror, he fell back insensible to the floor.
* * *
CHAPTER IX.
THE GHOST AGAIN APPEARS.
When Wild Bill fell, the banker declared his game closed for the night; and while Bill's friends gathered about him and sought to bring him to, the woman, Addie Neidic, took up her money, and left by the rear entrance, and the banker, with two or three of his friends, escorted her home, fearing Bill and his gang might annoy her, if the latter came to before she reached her residence.
The auburn-haired Texan did not go with her, but with a slouched hat drawn over his head, and a Mexican blanket over his shoulders, stood back in a corner, unobserved, to hear Bill's words when he came to, and to see what next would appear on the desperado's programme.
"That ghost again! He came to break my luck."
These were the last words that Wild Bill spoke, when recovering his consciousness; he glared out upon the crowd with bloodshot eyes.
"It was a woman who broke your luck. Addie Neidic backed the bank, or 'twould have given in," cried another.
"Who is Addie Neidic?" asked Bill, with a wondering gaze. "Oh! I remember–the woman who called me a coward over at the livery-stable. Who is she? Where does she live?"
"In a cottage west of town. They say she's rich! Let's go and clean out her crib!" cried a ruffian who did not belong to Bill's party, but most likely held some spite against Miss Neidic.
"Ay! That's the word! Let's clean out the house and set fire to it!" cried another, a chum of the first speaker.
It required but a leader now to set the vile work going. And Wild Bill, gradually recovering his reason, but mad with drink, and just realizing that every dollar he had, and even his watch was gone, was just the man for such a leader.
"I'll go! Show me the house, and we'll teach her to wear her own clothes, and let men's games alone!" shouted Wild Bill.
In a moment fifty men were ready to go; but first they made an onslaught on the wines and liquors on the sideboard of the gambling-room.
While they were madly pouring these down, the auburn-haired Texan slipped from the room, and ran s
wiftly to the cottage of his fair friend.
"Addie," he cried, as she opened the door to his signal, "Wild Bill and a crowd of full fifty men are coming here to rob you, and burn your house. They are mad with drink, and even if the stranger up stairs will fight, we three can hardly hold them at bay, no matter how well we are armed."
"We will not try it!" said Addie, calmly. "I had about made up my mind to go with Persimmon Bill. He loves me so well that I ought to be able and willing to bear hardship for his sake. I care little for the house and furniture, though they are mine, and cost me a large sum. I have money and jewelry that we can carry off. I will rouse my two servants while you call your friend, and we will all be out of the house before they come. No one but you knows where your horses are kept. Let that be the place of rendezvous, and before daylight we will be safe with my lover."
"No; I do not want to be with him yet, Addie. I will take this newly found friend and see you safely in reach of Bill, but we will make camp elsewhere till Bill's party starts. Then we'll be on his trail, and you on ours, as it was agreed upon."
"As you, like, Jack. But we must hurry."
"All right–as soon as I bring my friend down, do you go with him and your servants to the stable, carrying off what you can. Leave me here, for I want to give Wild Bill one more good scare."
"As you please, but be careful he don't kill you while you scare him. Ah! I hear their yells. We must be quick."
Willie Pond had a white, scared face when he came from his chamber, for while the Texan told him of the danger, the yells and shouts of the drunken ruffians who were approaching could be plainly heard. It seemed as if a gang of demons from the lower regions had been let loose on earth.
"Come with me," cried Addie Neidic, as Mr. Pond came down with his valise in hand. "Be quick, or there will be murder under this roof."
Pond, seemingly dazed and bewildered, obeyed, and out by a rear door hastened the fair owner of the doomed house, with her maid, or man-servant, and Willie Pond, while the Texan, telling them he soon would follow, remained.
Plainly now the shouts and vile threats of the drunken marauders came to the ears of the single listener.
"I wish I had a barrel or two of gunpowder here," he muttered. "I'd make them sing another tune."
Nearer and nearer they came, and now the Texan extinguished every light but one, which he shaded with his hat. Then he looked to the front door and windows and saw that they were all barred, except a single shutter which he left so he could open it.
A minute later, and the tramp of a hundred hurrying feet came loudly on his ear. Then shouts:
"Clean her out. Kill her and burn her crib!"
In a minute the crowd brought up before the closed doors.
"Open your doors, woman, or we'll shatter them!" cried Wild Bill.
"Open, or down goes everything!" shouted the crowd.
"Here, Bill; here is a shutter loose!" cried one.
Wild Bill sprang toward it, and as he did so the shutter flew open; he saw a white face surrounded by auburn hair; he heard one gasping cry–"sister"–and he fell back in terror, crying out:
"The ghost! the ghost!"
But some one fired a shot, the light went out, and all was dark where the light had been.
Bill recovered from his shock almost as soon as he felt it, and joined with the shout:
"Down with the doors! Down with the doors."
The crash that followed, told that the frail obstacles had given way, and Bill cried out:
"In and clean the crib out. Ghost or no ghost, give us light, and clean the crib out!"
Cheer after cheer told that the house was entered, and a minute later, torches made from splintered doors and shutters, blazed in a dozen hands as the ruffians ran to and for in search of plunder.
"The ghost. Find the ghost, or the woman!" yelled Bill.
* * *
CHAPTER X.
A MYSTERY.
The excited and ruffianly crowd dashed to and fro, overturning the furniture, tearing aside curtains, and looking for plunder, but unable to find anything of value, beyond the furniture, or to see a single living person under the roof. Not a dollar in money, not a piece of plate rewarded their search.
"Fire the crib! fire the crib!" came from fifty throats, and almost as soon as spoken, the act was consummated.
Wild Bill, angered to find no one on whom to vent his wrath, or shake his thirst for revenge, looked on the blaze as it rose with gloomy satisfaction, muttering that he only wished the witch of a woman was burning in it.
The crowd increased as the flames rose higher and tighter, but no one tried to check them, and soon it was but a smoldering mass of ruins where the pretty cottage had stood.
But the late occupant, unharmed, was a mile away, and having just paid off and discharged her faithful servants, was on the point of mounting to ride off with the Texan and Mr. Pond, when the last shout of the dispersing crowd reached her ears.
She smiled when she heard it, and said:
"I can afford all the harm they have done, I led but a lonesome life there. I feel that the change I am about to make will be for the better."
The three, with two loaded horses besides those they rode, now moved quietly but swiftly out of the suburbs of the town, where the horses had been stabled, and with the Texan leading the way, steered to the westward, having no compass but the stars.
For an hour the three rode on, and then, pointing to some timber ahead, the Texan said:
"Addie, there is where you will find him whom you seek. Tell him I have not altered any of my plans, and that I shall lay in camp to-morrow at Lone-tree Spring, an hour's gallop south of the Twenty-mile Creek. The next morning I will follow the trail we spoke of. And now, Addie, good-by, and don't forgot me."
"You know I will not, I hope yet to see you happy, and to be happier than I am now. We shall meet again, perhaps, Mr. Pond, but good-night for now."
And while the Texan and Mr. Pond remained still on their horses, she rode on, leading one pack-horse, toward a growth of trees seen dimly ahead.
The Texan remained where he was until he heard her give the signal and receive an answer, and then turning to Pond, he said:
"She is safe; we may as well move on. We have a long ride to where I intend to camp."
"All right," said the other, "This night's work seems almost like a dream. I can hardly realize that Wild Bill would lead such a disgraceful crowd of ruffians, and do such a dastardly act as to burn a woman out of house and home."
"Rum takes all the man out of those who use it," said the Texan. "I use it myself sometimes, I know, but it is when I feel as if I was all giving out, and couldn't go through what was before me. And I feel abashed when I think I need such a stimulant to fire up my flagging nature."
Pond made no reply, but rode on thoughtfully at the rapid pace which the other led, the pack animal keeping close in the rear. At last he asked:
"Who did Miss Neidic expect to meet where we left her?"
"A brave man who loves her dearly, but who has been driven in his desperation by cruel injustice to do some work which keeps him outside of towns and settlements for the present. His love is returned by her, and henceforth she will share his dangers and his hardships."
"None can tell but those who test it, how deeply, how entirely, and how lasting a true woman loves," said Pond, with a sigh.
"And none but a woman wronged can tell how bitterly she can hate!" said the other, as he dashed his spurs into his horse and galloped on.
Miles were swiftly passed over, and the gray of dawn was just beginning to soften night's darkness in the east, when the Texan exclaimed:
"Here we are; now for a rest of one day, at least."
And as he spoke he drew up his horse by the side of a small pool of water, which trickled out from under the roots of a single large tree. For an acre or so around it there were bushes growing as high as the horses, but when light came, no other growth but that of short buffalo grass
and prickly cactus could be seen.
The Texan unsaddled his horse, and unloaded the pack animal before Pond could get his saddle ungirthed. Then the Texan sprang to his assistance, finished stripping the horse, and with a long lariat picketed it out in the best grass. His own horses he turned loose, saying they never would stray from camp.
Then, taking his rifle, he stepped out from camp, saying he was going after meat.
In fifteen or twenty minutes, Pond heard the crack of his rifle and in less than half an hour the young man was back, with the fat saddle of a young antelope on his shoulder.
"Here is meat enough for to-day and to-morrow," he said. "Next day we will be on buffalo ground, and we'll have some hump ribs to roast."
Gathering a few dry, light sticks, he soon had a hot and almost smokeless fire ablaze. On the coals of this he set his coffee-pot, broiled some meat, and while Mr. Pond looked on in surprise, he quickly had a nice breakfast of antelope steak, coffee, and a few hard biscuit which were in the pack.
While Pond took hold and ate heartily, praising the food by his actions much as his words, the Texan ate lightly, yet all that he wanted–not touching the bread, but using meat entirely.
"There'll be the more left for you," said he, when Pond noticed that he ate no bread. "I never care for anything but meat on the plains. It gives bone and muscle, and that is what we need here. The more simple the food, the better the health. We use ourselves to salt, but we would be just as well off without it. Eat hearty, and take a good nap. We have nothing to do to-day. The party whose trail will be our guide to the "Hills" will not start till late. We shall not move until to-morrow morning, and then I'll show you the coals of the camp-fire which they'll light to-night. There will be no need for any shelter but this tree overhead. Everything looks clean and dry sky-ward–there's no better camping ground than this for a couple on the plains. The water is good, feed plenty, and we don't require much fire this time of year."
Pond, tired and sleepy, was only too glad to take the Texan's advice, so he spread his blanket, lay down, and soon was in the land of dreams.
Wild Bills Last Trail Page 4