by B. M. Bower
CHAPTER VII
THE OUTFIT HUNTS FOR STRAYS
As the group of punchers and the stage neared each other Bill saw twohorsemen ride out into view beside a chaparral half a mile to thenorthwest, and he recognized Shields and Charley, who were loping forwardas if to overtake the cowboys, their approach noiseless because ofthe deep sand. As the cowboys came nearer Bill recognized them as beingthe five worst men of the Cross Bar-8 outfit, and his loyalty to hisnew friend was no stronger than his dislike for the newcomers. Theyswept up at a canter and stopped abruptly near the front wheel.
"Who was _that?"_ asked Larry Thompson impatiently, with his gloved handindicating the direction taken by The Orphan.
"Friend of mine," replied Bill, who was diplomatically pleasant. "Say," hebegan, enthusing for effect, "you should have turned up sooner--you misseda regular circus! We was chased by five Apaches, and my friend cleaned'em up right, he shore did! You should a seen it. I wouldn't a missed itfor----"
"Cheese it!" relentlessly continued Larry, interrupting the threatenedverbal deluge. "Don't be all day about it, Windy," he cried; "who is he?"
"Why, a friend of mine, Tom Davis," lied Bill. "He just wiped out a bunchof Apaches, like I was telling you. They was a-chasing me some plentifuland things was getting real interesting when he chipped in and took ahand from behind. And he certainly cleaned 'em up brown, he shore did!Say, I'll bet you, even money, that he can lick the sheriff, or even TheOrphant! He's a holy terror on wheels, that's what he is! Talk aboutlightning on the shoot--and he can hit twice in the same place, too,if he wants to, though there ain't no use of it when he gets there once.The way he can heave lead is enough to make----"
"Choke it, Bill, choke it!" testily ordered Curley Smith, whose reputationwas unsavory. "Tell us why in h--l he hit th' trail so all-fired hard.Is yore friend some bashful?" he inquired ironically.
"Well," replied Bill, grinning exasperatingly, "it all depends on howyou looks at it. Women say he is, men swear he ain't; you can take yourchoice. But they do say he ain't no ladies' man," he jabbed maliciously,well knowing that Curley prided himself on being a "lady-killer."
"Th' h--l he ain't!" retorted Curley, with a show of anger, preparing toargue, which would take time; and Bill was trying to give the outlaw agood start of them. "Th' h--l he ain't!" he repeated, leaning aggressivelyforward. "Yu keep yore opinions close to home, yu big-mouthed coyote!"
"Well, you asked me, didn't you?" replied Bill. "And I told you, didn't I?He's a good man all around, and say, you should oughter hear him sing!He's a singer from Singersville, he is. Got the finest voice this sideof Chicago, that's what."
"That's _real_ interesting, and _just_ what we was askin' yu about,"replied Larry with withering sarcasm. "An' bein' so, Windy, we'll shoregive him all the music he wants to sing to before dark if we gets him.Yore lying ability is real highfalutin'. Now, suppose yu tell th' truthbefore we drag it outen yu--who is he?"
"You ought to know it by this time. Didn't I say his name is Tom Davis?"he replied, crossing his legs, his face wearing a bored look. "How manynames do you think he's got, anyhow? Ain't one enough?"
"Look a-here!" cried Curley, pushing forward. "Was that th' d----dOrphant? Come on, now, talk straight!"
"Orphant!" ejaculated Bill in surprise. "Did you say Orphant? Orphantnothing!" he responded. "What in h--l do you think I'd be lying abouthim for? Do I look easy? He ain't no friend of mine! Besides, I wouldn'tknow him if I saw him, never having seen that frisky gent. Holy gee! isthe Orphant loose in this country, out here along my route!" he cried,simulating alarm.
"Well, we'll take a chance anyhow," interposed Jack Kelly. "I can tellwhen a fool lies. If it _is_ yore friend Tom Davis we won't hurt him none."
"Honest, you won't hurt him?" asked Bill, grinning broadly. "No, I reckon_you_ won't, all right," he added, for the sheriff was close at handnow and was coming up at a walk, and Bill had an abiding faith in thatofficial. He could be a trifle reckless how he talked now. He laughedsarcastically and hooked his thumbs in the armholes of his vest. "Nope,I reckon _you_ won't hurt him, not a little bit. Not if he knows you'regoing to try it on him. And if it should be Mister Orphant, well, I hearthat he's dead sore on being hunted--don't like it for a d----n. I alsohear he drinks blood instead of water and whips five men before breakfastevery morning to get up an appetite. Oh, no, and you won't hurt himneither, will you?"
"Yore real pert, now _ain't_ yu?" shouted Curley angrily. "Yore a wholelot sassy an' smart, _ain't_ yu? But if we find that he is that Orphant,we'll pay yu a visit so yu can explain just why yore so d----d friendlywith him. He seems to have a whole lot of friends about this country, hedoes! Even the sheriff won't hurt him. Even th' brave sheriff loses histrail. Must be somethin' in it for somebody, eh?"
"You'd better tell that to somebody else, the sheriff, for instance. He'dlike to think it over," responded Bill easily. "It's a good chance tosee a little branding, a la Colt, as the French say. Tell it to him, whydon't you?"
"I'm a-tellin' it to yu, _now_, an' I'll tell it to Shields when I seeshim, yu overgrown baby, yu!" shouted Curley, his hand dropping to hisColt. "Everybody knows it! Everybody is a-talkin' about it! An' we'llhave a new sheriff, too, before long! An' as for yu, if we wasn't in sucha hurry, we'd give yu a lesson yu'd never forget! That d----d Orphanthas got a pull, but we're goin' to give him a push, an' plumb into hell!Either a pull or our brave sheriff is some ascairt of him! He's a _fine_sheriff, _he_ is, th' big baby!"
"Pleasant afternoon, Curley," came from behind the group, accompanied by asoft laugh. The voice was very pleasant and low. Curley stiffened andturned in his saddle like a flash. The sheriff was smiling, but there wasa glint in his fighting eyes that gave grave warning. The sheriff smiled,but some men smile when most dangerous, and as an assurance of masteryand coolness.
"Looking for strays, or is it mavericks?" he casually asked, a questionwhich left no doubt as to what the smile indicated, for it was achallenge. Maverick hunting was at that time akin to rustling, and it wasoccurring on the range despite the sheriff's best efforts to stop it.
Curley flushed and mumbled something about a missing herd. He had suddenlyremembered the scene at the corral, and it had a most subduing effect onhim. The sheriff regarded him closely and then noted the bullet holes inthe coach. The door of the vehicle was closed, the curtains down, and nosound came from within it. The baggage flap had settled askew over thetell-tale trunks and hid them from sight on that side.
"Oh, it's a missing herd this time, is it?" he inquired coolly. "Well,I reckon you won't find it out here. They don't wander over this layoutwhile the Limping Water is running."
"Well, we'll take a look down south aways; it won't do no harm now thatwe've got this far," replied Larry. "Come on, boys," he cried. "We'vewasted too much time with th' engineer."
"Wait!" commanded the sheriff shortly. "Your foreman made me certainpromises, and I reckon that you are out against orders. I wouldn't besurprised if Sneed wants you right now."
Larry laughed uneasily. "Oh, I reckon he ain't losin' no sleep about us.We won't hurt nobody" --whereat Bill grinned. "Come on, fellows."
"Well, I hope you get what you're looking for," replied the sheriff,whereat Bill snickered outright and winked at Charley, who sat alertand scowling behind the sheriff, rather hoping for a fight.
Larry flashed the driver a malicious look and, wheeling, cantered south,followed by his companions. They rode straight for the point at which TheOrphan had disappeared, Bill waving his arms and crying: "Sic 'em." Thechase was on in earnest.
The stage door suddenly flew open with a bang and interrupted theexplanations which Bill was about to offer, and in a flash the sheriffwas almost smothered by the attentions showered on him. Laughing andstruggling and delighted by the surprise, the peace officer could notget a word edgewise in the rapid-fire exclamations and questions whichwere hurled at him from all sides.
But finally he could be heard as he extricated himself from the embrac
esof his sisters.
"Well, well!" he cried, smiles wreathing his face as he stepped back toget a good look at them. "You're a sight to make a sick man well! My,Helen, but how you've grown! It's been five years since I saw you--andyou were only a schoolgirl in short dresses! And Mary hasn't grown abit older, not a bit," addressing the elder of the two. Then he turned tothe friend. "You must pardon me, Miss Ritchie," he said as he shook handswith her. "But I've been looking forward to this meeting for a long time.And I'm really surprised, too, because I didn't expect you all until thenext stage trip. I had intended meeting you at the train and seeing yousafely to Ford's Station, because the Apaches are out. I couldn't getword to you in time for you to postpone your visit, so I was going totake Charley and several more of the boys and escort you home."
Then he looked about for Charley, and found that person engaged inconversation with Bill as the two examined the bullet-marked stage.
"Come here, Charley!" he cried, beckoning his friend to his side."Ladies, this is Charley Winter, and he is a real good boy for a puncher.Charley, Miss Ritchie, my sisters Mary and Helen. I reckon you ladies arepurty well acquainted with Bill Howland by this time, but in case youain't, I'll just say that he is the boss driver of the Southwest, notedlocally for his oppressive taciturnity. I reckon you two boys don't needany introducing," he laughed.
Then, while the conversation throbbed at fever heat, Bill suddenlyremembered and wheeled toward the sheriff.
"The Orphant!" he yelled in alarm, hoping to gain attention that way.
The sheriff and Charley wheeled, guns in hand, and leaped clear of thewomen, their quick eyes glancing from point to point in search of thedanger.
"Where?" cried the sheriff over his shoulder at Bill.
"Down south, ahead of them fool punchers," Bill exclaimed. "He's onlygot a little start on 'em. And they know he's there, too. That's whythey're looking for cows on a place cows never go."
Then he related in detail the occurrences of the past few hours, to thesheriff's great astonishment, and also to his delight at the way it hadturned out. Shields thought of his own personal experiences with theoutlaw, and this put him deeper in debt. His opinion as to there beingmuch good in his enemy's makeup was strengthened, and he smiled at thefighting ability and fairness of the man who had declared a truce withhim by the big bowlder on the Apache Trail.
"Oh, I hope they don't catch him!" Helen cried anxiously. "Can't you dosomething, James?" she implored. "He saved us, and he is wounded, too!Can't you stop them?"
The sheriff looked to the south in the direction taken by thecow-punchers, and a hard light grew in his eyes.
"No, not now," he replied decisively. "They've had too much time now. Andit's safe to bet that they rode at full speed just as soon as they gotout of my sight. They knew Bill would tell me. They're miles away bythis time. But don't you worry, Sis--they won't get him. Five curs neverlived that could catch a timber wolf in his own country--and if theydo catch him, they will wish they hadn't. And I almost hope they win thechase, for they'll lose their fool lives. It will be a lesson to therest of the bullies of the Cross Bar-8--and small loss to the community atlarge, eh, Charley?"
"Yore shore right, Jim," replied Charley, smiling at Miss Ritchie."Did you ever hear tell of the dog that retrieved a lighted dynamitecartridge?" he asked her. "No? Well, the dog left for parts unknown."
"That's good, Charley," Shields responded with a laugh. "The dog justwouldn't mind, and he was only a snarling, no-account cur at that,wasn't he?" Then he looked at the coach, and his heart softened to thehunted man. "I can see it all, now," he said slowly. "Those punchers musthave forced him out of the Backbone, and he was getting away when hesaw the plight you were in. By God!" he cried in appreciation of theact. "It wasn't no one man's work, five Apaches! One man stopping five ofthose devils--it was no work for a murderer, not much! It was clean-cutnerve, and if I ever see him I'll tell him so, too! I'll let him know thathe's got some friends in this country. They can say what they please,but there's more manhood in him to the square inch than there is in allthe people who cry him down; and who are in a great way responsible forhis being an outlaw. I'm ready to swear that he never wantonly shot a mandown; no, sir, he didn't. And I reckon he never had much show, fromwhat I know of him."
"Helen was real kind to him," remarked the spinster. "She bathed his woundand bandaged it. Spoiled her very best skirt, too."
"You're a good girl, Sis," Shields said, looking fondly at the beautifulgirl at his side. His arm went around her shoulder and he affectionatelypatted her cheek. "I'm proud of you, and we'll have to see if we can'tget another 'very best skirt,' too." Then he laughed: "But I'll bet heblesses the warrior who fired that shot--he's not used to having prettygirls fuss about him."
Mary looked quickly at her sister. "Why, Helen! You've lost your gold pin!Where do you suppose it has gone? I'll look in the stage for it before weforget about it. Dear me, dear me," she cried as she entered the vehicle,"this has indeed been a terrible day!"
Bill grinned and turned toward his team. "I reckon she'll find it someday," he said in a low aside as he passed the sheriff. "I'll just bet shedoes. It'll be in at the finish of a whole lot of things, and people, too,you bet," he added enigmatically.
Shields looked quickly at the driver, his face brightened and he smiledknowingly at the words. "I reckon it will; fool punchers, for instance?"
Bill turned his head and one eye closed in an emphatic wink. "Keno," hereplied.
Mary bustled out again, very much agitated. "I can't find it. Where doyou suppose you lost it, dear? I've looked everywhere in the stage."
"Probably back where we stopped before," Helen replied quietly. "We wereso agitated that we would never have noticed it if it slipped down."
"Well--" began Mary.
"No use going back for it, Miss Shields," promptly interrupted Bill fromhis high seat. "We just couldn't find it in all that trampled sand, notif we hunted all week for it with a comb."
"You're right, Bill," gravely responded the sheriff. "We never could."
As they entered the defile of the Backbone the sheriff suddenly rememberedwhat Bill had told him and he stopped and dismounted.
"You keep right on, Bill," he said. "I'm going up to hunt that foolpuncher. Lord, but it's a joke! This game is getting better every day--I'mgetting so I sort of like to have The Orphan around. He's shore original,all right."
"He's better than a marked deck in a darkened room," laughed the driver."He shore ought to be framed, or something like that."
"You better go with them, Charley," the sheriff said as his friend made amove at dismounting. "There ain't no danger, but we won't take no chancesthis time; we've got a precious coachful."
"All right," replied Charley as he wheeled toward the disappearing stage."So long, Sheriff."
The sheriff looked the wall over and then picked out a comparatively easyplace and climbed to the top. As he drew himself over the edge he espieda pair of boots which showed from under a pile of debris, and he laughedheartily. At the laugh the feet began to kick vigorously, so affectingthe sheriff that he had to stop a minute, for it was the most ludicroussight he had ever looked upon.
Shields grabbed the boots and pulled, walking backward, and soon anenraged and trussed cow-puncher came into view. Slowly and carefullyunrolling the rope from the unfortunate man, he coiled it methodicallyand slung it over his shoulder, and then assisted in loosening the gag.
The puncher was too stiff to rise and his liberator helped him to hisfeet and slapped and rubbed and chuckled and rubbed to start the blood incirculation. The gag had so affected the muscles of the puncher's jawthat his mouth would not close without assistance and effort, and hiswords were not at all clear for that reason. His first word was a curse.
"'Ell!" he cried as he stamped and swung his arms. "'Ell! I'm asleep allo'er! ----! 'Ait till I get 'im! ----! 'Ait till I get 'im!"
"Sort of continuing the little nap you was taking when he roped you, eh?"aske
d Shields, holding his sides.
"Nap nothing! Nap nothing!" yelled the other in profane denial. "I wasn'tasleep, I tell yu! I was wide awake! He got th' drop on me, and then thatcussed rope of his'n was everywhere! Th' air was plumb full of rope andguns! I didn't have no show! Not a bit of a show! Oh, just wait till Iget him! Why, I heard my pardners talking as they hunted for me, and thereI was not twenty feet away from them all the time, helpless! They'refine lookers, they are! Wait till I sees them, too! I'll tell 'em a fewthings, all right!"
"Well, I reckon you may see one or two of them, if they're lucky--and youcan't beat a fool for luck," replied the sheriff. "They want to be angels;they're on his trail now."
"Hope they get him!" yelled the puncher, dancing with rage. "Hope theyburn him at th' stake! Hope they scalp him, an' hash him, an' saw his armsoff, an' cave his roof in! Hope they make him eat his fingers and toes!Hope----"
"You're some hopeful to-day," responded the sheriff. "If you like them,you better hope they don't get him. That's hoping real hope."
"Wait till I get him!" the puncher repeated, grabbing for his Colt, beingtoo enraged to notice its absence. "I'll show him if he can tie a man upan' leave him to choke to death, an' starve an' roast! I'll show him ifhe can run this country like he owns it, shooting and abusing everybodyhe wants to!"
"All right, Sonny," Shields laughed. "I'll shore wait till you gets him,if I live long enough. But for your sake I shore hope you never finds him.He wouldn't get any more reputation if he killed you, and your friendswould miss you."
"Don't yu let that worry yu!" retorted the enraged man. "I can take careof myself in a mix-up, all right! An' I'm going to chase after my friendsan' take a hand in th' game, too, by God! He ain't going to leave me highan' dry an' live to boast about it! But I suppose you reckon yu'll stopme, hey?"
Shields raised both hands high in the air in denial. "I wouldn't thinkof such a thing, not for the world," he cried, laughter shaking his bigframe. "You can go any place you please, only _I'd_ take a gun if I wasgoing after _him_," he added, eyeing the empty holster. "You know, you_might_ need it," he was very grave in his use of the subjunctive.
The puncher slapped his hand to his thigh and then jumped high into theair: "----! ----!" he shouted. "Stole my gun! Stole my gun!" Then hepaused suddenly and his face cleared. "But I've got something better'n aColt on my cayuse!" he cried as he leaped toward the edge of the canyon."An' I'll give him all it holds, too!" he threatened as he bumped andslid to the bottom. The sheriff took more care and time in descending andhad just reached the trail when he heard a heart-rending yell, followedby a sizzling stream of throbbing profanity.
"Where's my cayuse?" yelled the puncher as he rounded the corner ofthe canyon wall on a peculiar lope and hop. "Where's my cayuse, yulaw-coyote?" he shouted, temporarily out of his senses from rage."Where's my cayuse!" dancing up to the sheriff and shaking both fistsunder the laughter-convulsed face.
When the sheriff could speak, he leaned against the canyon wall for supportand broke the news.
"Why, Bill Howland said as how The Orphan was riding a Cross Bar-8cayuse--dirty brown, with a white stocking on his near front foot. Ithad a big scar on its neck, too."
"Th' d----d hoss thief!" began the puncher, but Shields kept right ontalking.
"There was a dandy Cheyenne saddle," he said, counting on his fingers, "agood gun, a pair of hobbles and a big coil of rawhide rope on the cayuse.Was they yours?"
"Was they mine! Was they mine!" his companion screamed. "My new saddlegone, my gun gone and my fine rope gone! Oh, h--l! How'll I hunt him now?How'll I get home? How'll I get back to th' ranch?" Words failed him, andhe could only wave his arms and yell.
"Well, it wouldn't hardly be worth while chasing him on foot without agun, that's shore," the sheriff said, grave once more. "But you can gethome all right; that's easy."
"How can I?" asked the puncher, eyeing the sheriff's horse and waitingfor the invitation to ride double on it.
"Why, walk," was the reply. "It's only about twenty miles as the crowflies--say twenty-five on the trail."
"Walk! Walk!" cried his companion, savagely kicking at a lizard whichlooked out from a crevice in the rock wall. "I never walked five milesall at once in my life!"
"Well, it'll be a new experience, and you can't begin any younger,"replied Shields as he swung into his saddle. "It'll do you good,too--increase your appetite."
"I'm so hungry now I'm half starved," replied the other. "But I'll pay upfor all this, you see if I don't! I'll get square with that d----d outlaw!"
"You don't know enough to be glad you were found," retorted the sheriff."And if he hadn't told Bill where to look for you, you wouldn't have been,neither. You got off easy, Bucknell, and don't you forget it, neither.Men have been killed for less than what you tried to do."
The puncher wilted, for twenty-five miles in high-heeled boots, over rocksand sand, and with an empty stomach, was terrible to contemplate, and heturned to the sheriff beseechingly.
"Give me a lift, Sheriff," he implored. "Take me up behind you--I can'twalk all the way!"
Shields looked at the sun, which was nearing the western horizon, andthought for a minute. Then he shrugged his shoulders.
"Well, I hadn't ought to help you a step, not a single, solitary step, andyou know it. You tried your best to run against me. You tried to hold meup there by the corral, and then after I had warned you not to go outfor The Orphan you went right ahead. Now you're asking me to help you outof your trouble, to make good for your fool stupidity. But I'll take youas far as the end of the canyon--no, I'll take you on to the ford, andthen you can do the rest on foot. That'll leave you ten or a dozen miles.Get aboard."