Understand?”
Bundy nodded. He did not like the tongue-lashing, but he liked still less the prospect of losing his share in the contents of the Cache, so he endured the first in the hope of getting the second. Which did not mean he forgave. A cowboy once described the foreman as having been “raised on vinegar,” and the only comment from the company was, “an’ the meanest vinegar, at that.”
Chapter XVIII
The Circle Dot men watched the discomfited band leave the gorge, and then returned to the cave. Dover walked to a small recess near the entrance, where a second fire had been lighted, and the wounded cattleman made comfortable on a pile of blankets. Miss Trenton was seated on a chunk of stone at his side, and the doctor was standing near.
“How is he?” Dan asked.
“Pretty bad,” Malachi replied. “Bullet through the chest, but he’s physically fit an’ has a chance—a slim one. I’ve done all that is possible.”
Dover nodded, and the doctor went, leaving the young man staring moodily at the helpless form of his enemy. He was recalling the stark, outstretched figure of his father. What part had Trenton played in that tragedy? Was this retribution, or … His reverie was broken by a cold, scornful voice:
“Admiring your work?”
“This is no work of mine,” he returned quietly.
“Why quibble? You or your men—it is the same thing,” she said passionately.
“Trenton fired the first shot, direct at me, without warnin’,” he reminded.–
“You had insulted him,” was all she could find to say.
Dan’s laugh was bitter. “So, a Trenton may lie, steal, or murder, but he must not be insulted. Oh, yo’re one o’ the breed, all right.”
“I’m glad of it.”
“An’ so am I, otherwise He did not finish, but her woman’s intuition told her what was is his mind—that he might have cared for her. She bit her lip, conscious of an intense desire to hurt this man who showed his scorn so plainly.
“You would have been too late,” she said. “I am already—”
“Promised to Garstone,” he ended. “He bragged about it just now, this brave fella who cowered with you behind a bush while his friends fought.”
He had seen that. The hot blood in her cheeks was partly due to the taunt, but also to the fact that the Easterner had taken her consent for granted, “He was asked to look after me and did so.”
“An’ his own skin at the same time. Well, let’s drop an unpleasant subject. I want to know whether you’d ruther feed with us, or over there?”
“I am not used to the company of ruffians,” she said loftily. “You oughta be, by this time,” he retorted. “One thing more: you are not to go more’n twenty yards from this camp without my permission.”
“And if I do?”
She saw his jaw harden. “I’ll put you across my knee an’ spank you good an’ plenty,” he said.
Before she could reply to this amazing threat, he had joined the others at the fire. Tiny was chaffing with yorky. “How’d it feel to be loosin’ off yore gun at a human bein’?” he wanted to know.
“I warn’t—I was aimin’ at Bundy,” the boy grinned.
The chuckle this produced reached the girl’s ears, and she shivered; she found herself unable to fathom these men, who slew or attempted to, and in the same hour, could be amused by trivialities. She looked at her charge; only the faintest rise and fall of his breast showed that he still lived. He, too, was of the same type, hard, relentless, violent, in keeping with the savage character of the country. She gazed round the gloomy cavern, rendered even more eerie by the dancing flames of the fires, and it all seemed like an evil dream. The low, clear voice of Dover came to her during a lull in the chatter.
“What you say don’t surprise me none, Doc,” he said. “All the more reason why we gotta pull him through.”
Beth had not heard Malachi’s remark, but it was evident they were speaking of her uncle.
It set her wondering. Why should Dover be anxious to save the life he or his had tried to take?
Then she remembered what Garstone had told her.
“They shan’t know,” she murmured, through shut teeth. “I’ll beat them, the brutes.”
But she could not dismiss Dover from her thoughts. The red-haired boy who had so gallantly twice come to her aid, had become a stern, harsh-tongued man, lacking even the common courtesy accorded to her sex. Anger welled up as she recalled his threat.
“And he would do it,” she reflected. “He—hates me—just because I am a Trenton.”
A more sophisticated woman would have solved the secret, divined that Dover’s attitude was due to anything but hatred, and that in the blundering fashion of an inexperienced youth, he was trying to build up an impassable barrier between them, lest worse befall. Her mind failed to envisage the completeness of a malignity which could hand down a war from one generation to another.
Later, when she was striving, unsuccessfully, to arrange the blankets upon which she was to sleep, she heard the rancher say, “Tiny, go an’ help Miss Trenton,” and to Malachi ,“Hell! a woman who can’t make a bed.”
The big cowboy came over, gave one glance at the tumbled coverings, shook the sand out of them, and started from the beginning. In five minutes an attractive couch was awaiting her. He threw more logs on the fire.
“Lie with yore feet to the flames an’ you won’t git cold.” He gazed curiously at the sick man. “Any better?”
“There is no change,” she replied.
“Well, he shorely asked for it,” Tiny said. “Shootin’ at Dan thataway was a dirty trick.”
“`Like master, like man,’ ” she quoted to herself, thanked him, and lay down. It proved to be very comfortable, and her last waking thought was that she must get one of the cowboys to teach her the knack. After all, a woman really ought to know how to make a bed.
Sudden, Malachi, and the rancher spoke together when supper was over.
“Phil has some news for us, Jim,” Dan began. “He claims that Zeb was shot by one of his own outfit.”
“Likely enough,” the puncher said.
“More than that—certain,” Malachi pronounced. “The bullet entered the back, travelled upwards, and through the chest; it must have been fired by someone behind and near.”
“Bundy was the first to reach him,” Sudden reminded. “Also, he was too long lookin’ for a wound in plain sight.”
“After the instructions for findin’ the Cache, huh?” the rancher asked.
“There were no papers on Trenton,” Malachi remarked. “I made sure of that when dressing his hurt. Unprofessional, I fear, but …”
“Then Bundy may hold the key.”
“I guess not,” Sudden said. “Trenton’s no fool; that document would be a dangerous thing to carry about; he would learn and destroy it, as we did.”
“Yo’re probably right, Jim,” Dan agreed, and to the doctor, “Miss Trenton thinks one of us shot her uncle; don’t put her wise. No need to tell the boys either—yet.”
In the morning Malachi came to inspect his patient. Dover was with him. Having satisfied himself that the dressings were in place, the doctor said, “Well, he is no worse. Anything to report, nurse?”
“Once in the night he groaned, and I think, tried to move.”
“Shows there’s a kick still in him. He’s a tough old sinner is Zeb, and he’ll fight.”
“Did you sleep well?” Dover asked the girl, and when she nodded, went on, “I’ve told Hunch to get some birch.” The flash in her eyes advised him that she had misunderstood. “Birch twigs make the best bed one could wish for,” he explained dryly.
“I see,” she said slowly. “They have, I believe, other uses” Dan hit back. “I told him to fetch in plenty.” As he stalked off, his reflection was, “Damn the girl. Why can’t I keep away from her?” The eternal call of youth to youth was the answer, had he but known it, but he blamed his weakness. “Like a fool moth, flutterin’ round
a flame an’ on’y gettin’ singed,” was his angry conclusion.
Yorky, who had been on guard, arrived with a vent for his annoyance. “Say, Boss, that Garstone guy is a piece down th’ alley. I telled him to stay there till yer came.”
“Is he alone?”
“Couldn’t see no others.”
“Ask Jim an’ Tiny to be on hand,” Dover said, and went out.
The visitor had dismounted and was leaning against the tree to which he had tied his horse, smoking a cigarette, and with a small grip-sack at his feet. No greetings were exchanged.
“I’ve brought some things Miss Trenton may want,” he began. “I wish to give them to her.”
“I’ll take ‘em,” Dan said, picking up the bag. “What’s inside o’ this?”
Garstone looked indignant. “I wouldn’t presume—”
“Then I will,” Dan said coolly, and opened the grip. On the top lay a loaded revolver.
“That’s somethin’ she won’t need—don’t s’pose she ever pulled a trigger in her life. Wonder where she got it.”
“Provided by her uncle, I imagine.”
Dan laughed unpleasantly. “Yeah. Zeb would know the company she had to ride with.”
He slipped the weapon into his own belt. “I’d give it to you, but I don’t want to walk backwards to my camp.”
The obvious implication brought a venomous expression to the big man’s face. “Scared, eh?” he sneered.
“Scared nothin’,” the rancher said harshly. “I’m on’y rememberin’ that Trenton was shot from behind.”
Garstone’s start of surprise was quite well done. “Impossible!” he cried.
“Doc Malachi knows his job.”
“And is on your side.”
“True, he ain’t a skunk neither.”
“You keep adding to the score, Dover. Don’t forget that there’ll be a day of reckoning.”
“My memory’s fine,” was the nonchalant answer. “Wait here; I’ll send the girl to you.”
Indifferently he turned his broad back and strode away. Garstone watched him with a brooding frown, fully aware that Sudden and Tiny, rifles across their left arms, were in sight.
That they knew the manner of Trenton’s hurt was disturbing. Had they informed his niece? But when she presently came to meet him, he did not ask. His first enquiry concerned the patient. She told him the little there was, adding that she believed the doctor was doing everything possible.
Garstone saw his opportunity.
“Yes, having done their best to take his life, they are now desperately eager to save it,” he said bitterly. “And we know why.”
“It would seem so,” she admitted.
Her reply was a great relief to him; evidently she had not been told. At the same time, he sensed a change in her; she did not appear to be so pleased to see him as he would have liked.
“Are these fellows treating you decently?”
“Yes, but I am virtually a prisoner.”
“It won’t be for long,” he consoled. “Once we get the location from your uncle, you will be released, and I will deal with these dogs as they deserve.”
She found herself wondering what form this promised retribution would take, and how it would conform to his views as to the use of violence in quarrels. Before she could come to any decision, he spoke again:
“We must be vigilant, my dear—everything depends on your being present when Zeb regains consciousness. I don’t trust that tippling doctor; he is working for them.”
“I think he is honest,” she said. “There are worse things than love of liquor—greed of gold, for example; the first may kill one man, the second, many.”
“I thought you were anxious to discover the treasure,” he protested.
“For my uncle’s sake, but if it is to cost lives …”
Garstone was a gambler; he played a desperate card, to win or lose all. “If you’ve changed your mind, we’ll give up the affair and sneak back to Rainbow with our tails tucked in,” he said.
“The Circle Dot will be delighted.”
The fire in the dark eyes told him he had won. “No,” she replied, through clenched teeth.
“I will do my part; they shall not profit by an attempted murder.”
“That’s the Trenton spirit—I knew you wouldn’t back down,” he cried exultantly. “And soon, when the old man is on his feet again, and the ranch in the clear, we’ll—”
“I must get back,” she interrupted hurriedly. “Even now, uncle may be needing me.”
He let her go without demur—it would be a calamity if the enemy learned the secret first—but his expression, when she had turned, was anything but that of an adoring lover.
A week passed, spent by the Circle Dot in a continuance of the search. The gorge had been gone over with a fine-tooth comb, and every foot of the floor of the cavern probed, but beneath the layer of sand only rock was encountered. The task appeared to be hopeless, yet they persevered.
The condition of Trenton had improved, the wound was beginning to heal, and his pulse was stronger. Between long spells of sleep, he would lie like a log, gazing vacantly intc the vaulted roof. He knew no one, and uttered no sound Beth, watching constantly by the bedside, earned the admiration of all, save Dan, for her devotion.
“Got the right stuff in her, that gal,” Tiny remarked. “Ii she hadn’t enough to do a’ready, I’d fall sick my own self.”
“We’d have ter send fer th’ schoolmarm then,” Yorky grinned, and then went in pursuit of his hat, which had beer sent spinning across the cave.
Malachi was optimistic. “He’s better in body, but doesn’t seem to get his wits back,” he reported to Dover.
“If he don’t, it looks like a stalemate for all of us,” the young man said despondently.
“That damned banker will sell us out.”
“Well, the Wagon-wheel can’t buy anyway. What has become of Garstone and company?”
“They’re around. He sneaks up the gorge every night, an’ the girl goes to talk with him.
They think they’re puttin’ one over on me.”
“Aren’t you a trifle hard on her, Dan?” Malachi suggested. “She’s having a middling rocky time and standing up to it well.”
The rancher laughed ironically. “Do you know why she offered to nuss that of crook? Not because he’s a relative, but to get a line either from him or us, on where to look for the dollars.
So far, she’s had nothin’ but failure to report to her—boss.”
“If that’s so, Garstone has lied to, and is using her,” the doctor asserted. “The girl is not mercenary.”
Late that evening, with only the stars to light her path, Beth slid noiselessly out of the cave and crept through the bushes to meet Garstone. He was there, and greeted her with outstretched arms, but she recoiled.
“I must hurry,” she whispered. “I believe Dover suspects we are meeting. Thank Heaven, this may be the last time I need come here.”
In the excitement her words caused, he forgot the rebuff. “You have news—at last?”
“Yes, my uncle spoke, to-day, when we were alone,” she replied. “Only two sentences, but they may supply the clue.”
“Quick, tell me, girl; at any moment we might be disturbed.” In his anxiety, the mask of culture he affected slid aside, and she saw the gleam of covetousness in his eyes, heard it in his husky voice. At that moment she knew that she was nothing to him but the bearer of tidings which might make him rich.
“His speech was faint, and very slow, like that of one trying to remember,” she said. ”
The—cave—of—the—bats.’ There are hundreds of them over our heads. Then, after a long pause, he went on, `The—finger—of—the—ages—points—the spot.’ ”
“And that was all?” His disappointment was patent. “He has not said anything more.”
“The devil, it only sets us another problem. The cave is probably the right one, though there may be others with bats in them
, but what does finger of the ages mean? Has the place any unusual feature?”
Beth strove to visualize her prison. She was weary of the daily and nightly vigil, sick of the whole sordid business. “It contains many stalactites, hanging from the roof like great fingers—”
“By the Lord, you’ve got it, girl,” he burst in. “Fingers of the ages—the products of millions of years. It will be under one of them, but which? Surely the longest or largest; we’ll find it.”
“Don’t be too sanguine,” she warned. “Dover and his men have scanned every foot—the floor is rock.”
He laughed confidently. “Never fear; with the tip you’ve given us, it’ll be easy. Now, cut along back, in case of accidents. By the way, what sort of guard do they keep?”
“They take turn, in pairs, through the night. What do you intend to do?”
“No plans yet, but be prepared for quick action,” he said briskly. “We’ll have you free, pronto, as these barbarians put it.”
With scant ceremony, he left her, and as she returned to the cave her thoughts were not of the pleasantest. Without being yet in love with the man, his bigness, good looks, and evident knowledge of the world had made that an undoubted possibility. He had put the money first, and herself second in the night’s enterprise, and she knew that was how they ranked in his mind. The fact disturbed her. Creeping along under the cliff, she reached the entrance to the camp, and stole through. Her patient was asleep, and four recumbent forms round the fire showed that all save the sentries had turned in. With a sigh of relief, she followed their example, and, despite her anxiety, slept soundly.
Chapter XIX
Garstone drove his horse hard in his haste to deliver the good news to his companions. They had been difficult to control for the past week, though he had made it clear that, in consequence of Bundy’s blunder, patience was their only policy. Lake had been the principal objector.
“Drive ‘em out’n their camp an’ we got as good a chance as they have,” he argued. “While we’re messin’ about here, they may find the stuff an’ light out.”
“My information is that they’re no nearer success than when they started,” Garstone had retorted, and as the other three supported this view, he won his way. And now he could enjoy his triumph.
Oliver Strange - Sudden Westerns 09 - Sudden Makes War(1942) Page 18