“I had guessed that,” said Wayne. “Well, I can’t just thumb cards, either. I suppose I want excitement. Let’s go see Darling.”
This was a bold stroke and it told. Hunter looked at him quickly with a queer light in his eyes. “What do you want to see Darling for?” he asked.
“Just to see him,” Wayne explained lamely. “Hunter, when things were hottest tonight, there was one man stayed in front of The Three Colors. He was tall, dressed in corduroy, and had a sharp pair of eyes. That’s all I had time to see. But he looked different from the rest of the crowd … a lot different. Was that him?”
Hunter was silent for some time. “Might’ve been,” he said finally. “Don’t know as I saw him. Might have been him, though, for he was in town. We’ll have to hustle along again.”
He took the lead as they entered a narrow stretch of trail through a clump of timber and up a ridge. He kept this lead until they had left the main trail for the dim path leading to his cabin. The dark outline of the butte loomed to the left. Off there was Devil’s Hole and the clearing on the rim where Wayne had shot Boyd. He took stock of his feelings grimly. He had killed two men. He didn’t like to think of it. He told himself he never would make a gunfighter. Did he wish to become one? Suddenly he began to feel a little sick of it all. But memory of his father’s sharp words drove this feeling away. Fred Hastings had carried word of the impending encounter with Barry to the ranch. His father had merely sent word to McCurdy, leaving it up to him to act or not. Evidently he considered it his duty to do that much. For some reason he did not quite understand, Wayne felt hurt and angry. But what could he expect?
They reached Hunter’s cabin before midnight and put their horses in the little corral. Hunter lighted the lamp and built a fire in the stove. “I can stand some grub,” was his comment, “and I reckon you can take on a little yourself.”
“Sure could,” Wayne grunted. “What can I do to help?”
“Sit there and try to look cheerful,” Hunter replied.
“That’s a big order,” snorted Wayne. “I’ve plenty to think about that’s serious. For one thing, maybe I drew down too quick on Barry.”
Hunter turned on him, his eyes wide with astonishment. “You what?” he exclaimed. “Drew too quick? You didn’t draw till you saw him going for his guns, did you? Not that I could see, you didn’t.”
“Well, they might think I didn’t give him a chance,” said Wayne with a shrug.
Hunter stared about the room vacantly for several moments. Then his gaze settled on Wayne. “Don’t you worry about anybody thinking that,” he said. “And remember that when a man’s coming for you, after having given you your orders, don’t stop to comb your hair before you begin operations. Beat him to it. And don’t spill any more fool talk while I’m shaking up this grub.”
He turned to the stove. Wayne drew his gun, broke it, and removed the empty shells. Hunter supplied him with a cleaning kit and he cleaned and oiled his weapon. Then he reloaded it, but, even as he did so, he could not repress the hope that he would never have to use it again after the fashion of that night.
After they had eaten and washed the dishes, both sat on the edge of the bunks and smoked.
“Hunter, I wish you’d take me along to see this man, Darling,” said Wayne. “I’m curious, for one thing, and …” He paused.
“Yes,” prompted Hunter, “and what else?”
“Oh, I don’t know exactly, but I’d like to see how he runs his outfit. I’m not looking for information and I’m not a spy. It wouldn’t do me any good if I were. You can arrange it. Why not?” He looked steadily at the older man who didn’t meet his gaze. Hunter had his own problem in trying to carry out the wish of Ed Wayne. How far did he dare to go? How far would it be safe to go?
“Hunter, I dare you to take me to Darling,” Wayne said then.
Hunter looked up. “All right, I’ll take the dare,” he said quietly. “But remember, you’re strictly on your own.”
Wayne was jubilant, thrilled, uncertain. It was a long time before he could get to sleep. And while he was tossing in excited anticipation of what was in store, the outlaw he sought to meet passed on the trail to eastward, taking Polly Arnold to his rendezvous.
* * * * *
Jack McCurdy made his way to the little green house where he had first been directed by Miles Henseler at The Three Colors. There, as he expected, he found Green. The gambler had not been sure but that Hunter would come there accompanied by Wayne after the excitement of the shooting died down.
“Haven’t seen either of them,” he told McCurdy. “He went north with Hunter, I hear, and I suppose Hunter is hiding him out. These louts who trailed with Jake will be all over their revenge ideas as soon as they’ve had a few drinks and woke up to the fact that they haven’t got a leader or any friends that amount to anything.”
“Is Darling still in town?” asked McCurdy.
“I don’t know,” Green answered coldly. “He doesn’t advertise his comings and goings. If you’ll wait here, though, I’ll go up to The Three Colors and nose around a bit. But it will finish my part in this business. I’m a gambler and don’t pretend to be anything else. Just remember that. And I’m not going to get anybody down on me for old Ed Wayne or anybody else.”
When he had left, Mrs. Trippett put out some supper for the WP foreman. “My Tom always said, when you’d had some trouble, to get away from where you had it as soon as you could,” she told him. “That’s what Hunter has done … taken this Wayne away. He would be wise enough to do that and there’s no use of you tryin’ to find them.”
McCurdy realized there was much truth in what she said. Indeed, he would not know where to look for Hunter, granting Wayne was with him. If he had gone to the Rainbow Butte badlands, it would be foolish to try to find him. For McCurdy, like most cowmen west of the butte, knew nothing about the wilderness where Darling ruled.
He finished his supper and smoked several cigarettes before Green returned.
“Hunter and Wayne beat it,” was the news the gambler brought. “And so far as I could learn, Darling and his outfit have beat it, too. That bunch of Barry fools have quieted down and are lapping up the happy water. If I was you, I’d call it a day and go to bed.”
“Which isn’t bad advice,” McCurdy agreed. “Well, I’m much obliged, Green. I don’t know as I did any good by bringin’ the boys in, but I think it was wise to send ’em back. I’ll take the Arnold girl home in the morning. I reckon it was a good thing I was here to look after her, anyway. So long.”
They shook hands and McCurdy went to the hotel. He proceeded upstairs to the room Polly Arnold had occupied. No light showed under the door or through the keyhole. He tapped softly but got no answer. He hesitated about trying the door to venture inside, decided against it. The girl had been sensible enough to go to bed. He went back to his own room to get some sleep.
The first inkling McCurdy had of Polly’s disappearance came in the early dawn when he went to the livery to see about the horses. The night man, who was still on duty, told him Hastings had returned but was asleep. Then McCurdy found that Polly’s horse was gone.
“One of your men got the horse for her last night,” the man in charge told him. “Said they were going back to the ranch.”
McCurdy swore. “Are you sure it was one of my men?” he demanded.
“He knew the horse and the girl joined him out by the corral,” was the reply. “When I saw ’em ride away together, I figured he knew what he was talking about.”
McCurdy swore again. “There’s one man that won’t be with my outfit long,” he said savagely. “Get my horse ready. I’ll be starting back as soon as I can get a bite of breakfast in the kitchen.”
He hurried back to the hotel and looked in Polly’s room. The supper dishes were still on the table; otherwise everything was in order. The bed had not been slept in. “Just as stubborn and independent as old Pete Arnold,” McCurdy grunted as he went down to eat. Half an hour later he had
started back, intending to stop at the Bar A and make sure that Polly was safely home.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Pete Arnold was inspecting his herds on the north Bar A range. He had moved his beef stock north and planned to ship earlier this year than usual. Both shorthorns and Herefords were in excellent condition. Frank Payne, range boss, was with the Bar A owner.
Arnold had left the ranch house at dawn and had not seen or heard of the passing of Jack McCurdy and the WP cowpunchers. It was sunset before his inspection was finished and he stayed for supper with Payne and his men before starting the long ride back to the home ranch.
When Polly didn’t appear for dinner or supper at the ranch house, her mother did not worry. The girl had often missed a meal, staying at one of the cow camps or at the house of one of the smaller ranchers within comparatively easy riding distance of the Bar A. Nor did her mother fret when she had not returned after sundown. Polly loved to ride in the twilight. But when the twilight deepened into night, Mrs. Arnold became anxious. True, Polly had many times come home late, but the fact that she hadn’t been home for dinner or supper indicated she had taken a long ride. It was not like the girl to go to town without stating her intention. Indeed, her father had forbidden it. Still, Polly was self-willed and had been known to disobey. Her mother didn’t worry so much about where she might be as she did over the possibility of an accident. For Polly rode a spirited thoroughbred and she rode hard.
By 10:00—an hour after dark in these semi-altitudes—Mrs. Arnold was out on the porch of the ranch house listening for the familiar sound of flying hoofs. Polly always came fast down the road from the bench. But another hour passed without sign of the girl and her mother became genuinely worried. It was not like Polly to remain away from the house all night without a previous arrangement, or without sending word. She had never done such a thing before.
Mrs. Arnold questioned the barn man, an old hand who was no longer fit for the hard work on the range, and he made light of it.
“Don’t worry about Miss Polly,” he told her. “She can take care of herself and no hoss is goin’ to catch her sleepin’ in the saddle. She’s just ridden farther than usual and maybe it’ll be midnight before she gets back.”
This failed to reassure the woman and by the time Pete Arnold arrived at the ranch shortly before midnight she was in a serious state of mind. Arnold was tired. For a big man, physically, and not by any means young, he had done a strenuous day’s riding. The news that Polly had not been home for dinner or supper, and still was missing, angered rather than worried him.
“She’s probably met up with somebody goin’ to town and gone on in with ’em,” he said, frowning. “I’ve told her not to do it, and I’ll tell her this time so she’ll never do it again. Is there any coffee?”
His wife had seen to it that the housekeeper had coffee and some supper and Arnold went in to refresh himself. Shortly afterward hoof beats sounded in the courtyard and he stamped out with Mrs. Arnold following.
But the arrival was not Polly. It was a cowpuncher Payne had sent into town on an errand. He planned to stay in the bunkhouse and ride on up to the north range in the morning.
“Did you see anything of Polly in town?” Pete Arnold demanded.
“Why, no,” replied the man. “Is she in town?”
“That’s what I want to know,” Arnold retorted angrily. “You didn’t see her on the road or anywhere?”
“No. I didn’t leave up north till late in the morning and I cut down through the Whippoorwill. But I’d likely have seen her if she’d been on the road goin’ or comin’ and I’d have spotted her hoss in the livery. There was only five hosses there and none of ’em was Miss Polly’s. And there wasn’t but two hosses tied to the hitchin’ racks and none …”
“All right,” Arnold snapped out, his forehead furrowed. He turned to his wife with a look of perplexity. “I don’t know of anyplace she would stay all night. Maybe she pulled up at some ranch where they’re having a party or something.” He took off his hat and scratched his head. He knew it wasn’t like the girl to stay away, but he didn’t want to cause his wife more worry.
“Peter, there’s something wrong,” said his wife stoutly.
“Now mother, you mustn’t jump to any such conclusion,” he said, taking her arm to lead her into the house. “It’ll be daylight in three hours or so and I’m goin’ to send that hand up with word to Payne to start the men out on a search, although I honestly don’t think it’s necessary. But it’ll show her that this stayin’ away late at night is serious business. It’ll do more than my talk would do.”
“It might be,” said Mrs. Arnold, when they were in the living room, “that she visited over at the Whippoorwill and stayed there tonight.”
Arnold’s face darkened. “She knows better than to do that,” he said grimly. “And what’s more, after that young Ted ridin’ around with that cut-throat of a Hunter I’m goin’ to forbid her havin’ anything more to do with him. That’s first, last, and final!”
“Peter!” His wife spoke sharply, and, when she used that tone, the master of the Bar A listened. “You’ll do no such thing. In the first place, Ted Wayne may be wild, but he’s not as bad as you’d make out. And, in the second place, you ought to know that any such order from you would merely cause Polly to like him all the more. I don’t believe she would stay at the Whippoorwill, but she isn’t home and I’m ready to imagine anything.”
“Well, that’s just what it is,” Arnold snorted. “Imagination. I don’t think she’d go over there, for that matter.”
He went out by way of the front door and his orders to the man who had just ridden in from town were short and explicit.
“Take a good horse, one of mine … and get up on the north range as fast as you can make it. Tell Payne that Polly isn’t home and I want every man in the outfit in the saddle and out lookin’ for her by daylight. Tell him to report to me here. Tell him I said she might have had an accident, although I don’t believe it. Tell him to have the men keep a lookout for her horse. Now don’t sleep on the way.”
The stockman went to the barn himself to see that the hand got a good horse and an immediate start. Although he wouldn’t have confessed it to his wife under any circumstances, Arnold was worried. Polly, incidentally, had not mentioned her second meeting with Wayne in the company of Hunter. For all Arnold knew Wayne was at the Whippoorwill. But was he? The rancher’s eyes narrowed. Would Wayne have the audacity and nerve to run away with Polly, even if she were willing? It was this thought, and not any fear of accident, that troubled Pete Arnold. And he knew he would have to be at the WP ranch house at daybreak. First, he must make sure that Ted Wayne was home. If he wasn’t …
The stockman swore roundly as his messenger galloped away.
It was but natural that, under the circumstances, the last place Arnold would think of Polly going to would be Rainbow. He knew nothing of what had happened there. Fred Hastings, on his way back, had not seen fit to stop at the Bar A ranch house and he had met none of the Arnold outfit. He had conveyed his message to Ed Wayne, had secured some rest, and had started back in the late afternoon. He had not ridden fast and had arrived in Rainbow long after the exciting events of the evening.
Arnold pondered deeply as he walked back to the house. He had no wish to tell his fears to his wife. For once in his life he was at a loss to decide what to do. He was stiff and sore from a full day and part of the night in the saddle and did not feel equal to riding out and searching the prairie until dawn. At the same time, inactivity irked him. Had Polly ridden in at this time he would have received her with a sigh of relief and his reprimand would not have been as fiery as she might have expected. But Polly was lying on the bunk in the cabin in Darling’s rendezvous staring at Ted Wayne’s hat on the table. She had thrust it within her blouse and brought it with her.
“We better get some rest, mother,” said Arnold when he again met his wife in the living room.
It was the best wa
y to reassure her, he felt. And his wife agreed that there was nothing to be done in any event until daybreak. Meanwhile, Polly might return. Though she would not think of telling her husband, the same troubling conjecture as to Ted Wayne and Polly had obsessed her. And she knew, too, that, if her fears were to prove well founded, she would stand by the daughter who was the sun, and the universe, and the life of their existence.
Thoroughly wearied, Pete Arnold slept until sunup. His wife had not slept and was up before him, preparing his breakfast herself. He bolted his food with a mild reproach at not having been awakened at dawn. His horse was ready when he had finished breakfast, and, after leaving orders that Payne was to wait for him when he arrived, he started for the Whippoorwill.
Ed Wayne had received the news. Acting on instructions from Jack McCurdy, one of the WP cowpunchers had conveyed the message. The stockman had listened complacently, but no emotion had showed on his face or in his eyes. He ordered the man back to the range. Then he went to his office in the front of the house and sat at his desk. He did not heed the sound of a horse as it came up the road. He was occupied with his thoughts, and they were not light thoughts. Would McCurdy bring Ted back? He had given his foreman no orders. And he felt that Ted wouldn’t come back. Did he want him back already? Ed Wayne was perplexed, irritated, somewhat bewildered, and it was in this mood that Pete Arnold found him.
“Come out on the porch, Pete,” the WP owner invited when his visitor appeared at the door of the office. “It’s cooler out there.”
“I don’t figure on stayin’ long, Ed,” said Arnold nervously, “and I’m here on a sort of funny business.”
“Yes?” Ed Wayne looked at him sharply as they sat down in chairs on the porch. “What’s up?”
Arnold shifted uneasily. “Is Ted home?” he asked.
Ed Wayne frowned. “No. Ted left day before yesterday … on his own hook. Why do you ask?”
Arnold started. “He’s … gone? Gone … for good?” he stammered.
“For good or not, he’s gone until he can get some sense into his head and some of the fight out of it,” replied Ed Wayne sternly. “What’re you so worked up about? I can’t see how it can interest you so much.”
Rainbow Range Page 17