CHAPTER 5. BUCKY ENTERTAINS
Bucky began at once to tap the underground wires his official positionmade accessible to him. These ran over Southern Arizona, Sonora, andChihuahua. All the places to which criminals or frontiersmen with moneywere wont to resort were reported upon. For the ranger's experience hadtaught him that since the men he wanted had money in their pockets toburn gregarious impulse would drive them from the far silent places ofthe desert to the roulette and faro tables where the wolf and the lambdisport themselves together.
The photograph from Webb Mackenzie of the cook Anderson reached him atTucson the third day after his interview with that gentleman, at thesame time that Collins dropped in on him to inquire what progress he wasmaking.
O'Connor told him of the Aravaipa episode, and tossed across the tableto him the photograph he had just received.
"If we could discover the gent that sat for this photo it might help us.You don't by any chance know him, do you, Val?"
The sheriff shook his head. "Not in my rogues' gallery, Bucky."
The ranger again examined the faded picture. A resemblance in it tosomebody he had met recently haunted vaguely his memory. As he lookedthe indefinite suggestion grew sharp and clear. It was a photographof the showman who had called himself Hardman. All the trimmings werelacking, to be sure--the fierce mustache, the long hair, the buckskintrappings, none of them were here. But beyond a doubt it was the sameshifty-eyed villain. Nor did it shake Bucky's confidence that Mackenziehad seen him and failed to recognize the man as his old cook. The fellowwas thoroughly disguised, but the camera had happened to catch thatcurious furtive glance of his. But for that O'Connor would never haveknown the two to be the same.
Bucky was at the telephone half an hour. In the middle of the nextafternoon his reward came in the form of a Western Union billet. Itread:
"Eastern man says you don't want what is salable here."
The lieutenant cut out every other word and garnered the wheat of themessage:
"Man you want is here."
The telegram was marked from Epitaph, and for that town the ranger andthe sheriff entrained immediately.
Bucky's eye searched in vain the platform of the Epitaph depot forMalloy, of the Rangers, whose wire had brought him here. The causeof the latter's absence was soon made clear to him in a note he foundwaiting for him at the hotel:
"The old man has just sent me out on hurry-up orders. Don't know whenI'll get back. Suggest you take in the show at the opera house to-nightto pass the time."
It was the last sentence that caught Bucky's attention. Jim Malloy hadnot written it except for a reason. Wherefore the lieutenant purchasedtwo tickets for the performance far back in the house. From the localnewspaper he gathered that the showman was henceforth to be a residentof Epitaph. Mr. Jay Hardman, or Signor Raffaello Cavellado, as he wasknown the world over by countless thousands whom he had entertained, hadpurchased a corral and livery stable at the corner of Main and BoothillStreets and solicited the patronage of the citizens of Hualpai County.That was the purport of the announcement which Bucky ringed with apencil and handed to his friend.
That evening Signor Raffaello Cavellado made a great hit with hisaudience. He swaggered through his act magnificently, and held hisspectators breathless. Bucky took care to see that a post and thesheriff's big body obscured him from view during the performance.
After it was over O'Connor and the sheriff returned to the hotel, wherealso Hardman was for the present staying, and sent word up to hisroom that one of the audience who had admired very much the artisticperformance would like the pleasure of drinking a glass of wine withSignor Cavellado if the latter would favor him with his company in roomseven. The Signor was graciously pleased to accept, and followed hismessage of acceptance in person a few minutes later.
Bucky remained quietly in the corner of the room back of the door untilthe showman had entered, and while the latter was meeting Collins hesilently locked the door and pocketed the key.
The sheriff acknowledged Hardman's condescension brusquely and withoutshaking hands. "Glad to meet you, seh. But you're mistaken in one thing.I'm not your host. This gentleman behind you is."
The man turned and saw Bucky, who was standing with his back against thedoor, a bland smile on his face.
"Yes, seh. I'm your host to-night. Sheriff Collins, hyer, is anotherguest. I'm glad to have the pleasure of entertaining you, SignorRaffaello Cavellado," Bucky assured him, in his slow, gentle drawl,without reassuring him at all.
For the fellow was plainly disconcerted at recognition of his host.He turned with a show of firmness to Collins. "If you're a sheriff, Idemand to have that door opened at once," he blustered.
Val put his hands in his pockets and tipped back his chair. "I ain'tsheriff of Hualpai County. My jurisdiction don't extend here," he saidcalmly.
"I'm an unarmed man," pleaded Cavellado.
"Come to think of it, so am I."
"I reckon I'm holding all the aces, Signor Cavellado," explained theranger affably. "Or do you prefer in private life to be addressed asHardman--or, say, Anderson?"
The showman moistened his lips and offered his tormentor a blanchedface.
"Anderson--a good plain name. I wonder, now, why you changed it?"Bucky's innocent eyes questioned him blandly as he drew from his pocketa little box and tossed it on the table. "Open that box for me, Mr.Anderson. Who knows? It might explain a heap of things to us."
With trembling fingers the big coward fumbled at the string. With allhis fluent will he longed to resist, but the compelling eyes that methis so steadily were not to be resisted. Slowly he unwrapped the paperand took the lid from the little box, inside of which was coiled up athin gold chain with locket pendant.
"Be seated," ordered Bucky sternly, and after the man had found a chairthe ranger sat down opposite him.
From its holster he drew a revolver and from a pocket his watch. He laidthem on the table side by side and looked across at the white-lippedtrembler whom he faced.
"We had better understand each other, Mr. Anderson. I've come here toget from you the story of that chain, so far as you know it. If youdon't care to tell it I shall have to mess this floor up with yourremains. Get one proposition into your cocoanut right now. You don't getout of this room alive with your secret. It's up to you to choose."
Quite without dramatics, as placidly as if he were discussing railroadrebates, the ranger delivered his ultimatum. It seemed plain that heconsidered the issue no responsibility of his.
Anderson stared at him in silent horror, moistening his dry lips withthe tip of his tongue. Once his gaze shifted to the sheriff but foundsmall comfort there. Collins had picked up a newspaper and was absorbedin it.
"Are you going to let him kill me?" the man asked him hoarsely.
He looked up from his newspaper in mild protest at such unreason. "Me? Iain't sittin' in this game. Seems like I mentioned that already."
"Better not waste your time, signor, on side issues," advised the manbehind the gun. "For I plumb forgot to tell you I'm allowing only threeminutes to begin your story, half of which three has already slippedaway to yesterday's seven thousand years. Without wantin' to hurry you,I suggest the wisdom of a prompt decision."
"Would he do it?" gasped the victim, with a last appeal to Collins.
"Would he what? Oh, shoot you up. Cayn't tell till I see. If he says hewill he's liable to. He always was that haidstrong."
"But--why--why--"
"Yes, it's sure a heap against the law, but then Bucky ain't a lawyer.I don't reckon he cares sour grapes for the law--as law. It's a rightinteresting guess as to whether he will or won't."
"There's a heap of cases the law don't reach prompt. This is one ofthem," contributed the ranger cheerfully. He pocketed his watch andpicked up the .45. "Any last message or anything of that sort, signor? Idon't want to be unpleasant about this, you understand."
The whilom bad man's teeth chattered. "I'll tell you anything you wantto know."
"Now, that's right sensible. I hate to come into another man's house andclutter it up. Reel off your yarn."
"I don't know--what you want."
"I want the whole story of your kidnapping of the Mackenzie child, howcame you to do it, what happened to Dave Henderson, and full directionswhere I may locate Frances Mackenzie. Begin at the beginning, and I'llfire questions at you when you don't make any point clear to me. Turnloose your yarn at me hot off the bat."
The man told his story sullenly. While he was on the round-up as cookfor the riders he had heard Mackenzie and Henderson discussing togetherthe story of their adventure with the dying Spaniard and their hopesof riches from the mine he had left them. From that night he had sethimself to discover the secret of its location, had listened at windowsand at keyholes, and had once intercepted a letter from one to theother. By chance he had discovered that the baby was carrying the secretin her locket, and he had set himself to get it from her.
But his chance did not come. He could not make friends with her, and atlast, in despair of finding a better opportunity, he had slipped intoher room one night in the small hours to steal the chain. But it waswound round her neck in such a way that he could not slip it over herhead. She had awakened while he was fumbling with the clasp and hadbegun to cry. Hearing her mother moving about in the next room, he hadhastily carried the child with him, mounted the horse waiting in theyard, and ridden away.
In the road he became aware, some time later, that he was being pursued.This gave him a dreadful fright, for, as Bucky had surmised, he thoughthis pursuer was Mackenzie. All night he rode southward wildly, but stillhis follower kept on his trail till near morning, when he eluded him. Hecrossed the border, but late that afternoon got another fright. For itwas plain he was still being followed. In the endless stretch of rollinghills he twice caught sight of a rider picking his way toward him. Theheart of the guilty man was like water. He could not face the outragedfather, nor was it possible to escape so dogged a foe by flight. Analternative suggested itself, and he accepted it with sinking courage.The child was asleep in his arms now, and he hastily dismounted,picketed his horse, and stole back a quarter of a mile, so that theneighing of his bronco might not betray his presence. Then he lay downin a dense mesquit thicket and waited for his foe. It seemed an eternitytill the man appeared at the top of a rise fifty yards away. HastilyAnderson fired, and again. The man toppled from his horse, dead beforehe struck the ground. But when the cook reached him he was horrified tosee that the man he had killed was a member of the Rurales, or Mexicanborder police. In his guilty terror he had shot the wrong man.
He fled at once, pursued by a thousand fears. Late the next night hereached a Chihuahua village, after having been lost for many hours. Thechild he still carried with him, simply because he had not the heartto leave it to die in the desert alone. A few weeks later he marriedan American woman he met in Sonora. They adopted the child, but it diedwithin the year of fever.
Meanwhile, he was horrified to learn that Dave Henderson, followinghard on his trail, had been found bending over the spot where the deadsoldier lay, had been arrested by a body of Rurales, tried hurriedly,and convicted to life imprisonment. The evidence had been purelycircumstantial. The bullet found in the dead body of the trooper was onethat might have come from his rifle, the barrel of which was empty andhad been recently fired. For the rest, he was a hated Americano, and, asa matter of course, guilty. His judges took pains to see that no messagefrom him reached his friends in the States before he was buried alive inthe prison. In that horrible hole an innocent man had been confined forfifteen years, unless he had died during that time.
That, in substance, was the story told by the showman, and Bucky'sincisive questions were unable to shake any portion of it. As tothe missing locket, the man explained that it had been broken off byaccident and lost. When he discovered that only half the secret wascontained on the map section he had returned the paper to the locket andlet the child continue to carry it. Some years after the death of thechild, Frances, his wife had lost the locket with the map.
"And this chain and locket--when did you lose them?" demanded Buckysharply.
"It must have been about two months ago, down at Nogales, that I sold itto a fellow. I was playing faro and losing. He gave me five dollars forit."
And to that he stuck stoutly, nor could he be shaken from it. BothO'Connor and the sheriff believed he was lying, for they were convincedthat he was the bandit with the red wig who had covered the engineerwhile his companions robbed the train. But of this they had no proof.Nor did Bucky even mention his suspicion to Hardman, for it was hisintention to turn him loose and have him watched. Thus, perhaps, hewould be caught corresponding or fraternizing with some of the otheroutlaws. Collins left the room before the showman, and when the lattercame from the hotel he followed him into the night.
Meanwhile, Bucky went out and tapped another of his underground wires.This ran directly to the Mexican consul at Tucson, to whom Buckyhad once done a favor of some importance, and from him to Sonora andChihuahua. It led to musty old official files, to records alreadyyellowed with age, to court reports and prison registers. In the endit flashed back to Bucky great news. Dave Henderson, arrested for themurder of the Rurales policeman, was still serving time in a Mexicanprison for another man's crime. There in Chihuahua for fifteen years hehad been lost to the world in that underground hole, blotted out fromlife so effectually that few now remembered there had been such aperson. It was horrible, unthinkable, but none the less true.
Bucky O'Connor: A Tale of the Unfenced Border Page 5