CHAPTER XIX
THE END OF THE TRAIL
"How are we going to find them?" asked the girl, as the two drew theirmounts to a stand on the top of a low ridge and gazed out over the seaof similar ridges that rolled and spread before them as far as the eyecould reach in three directions--bare coulees, and barer ridges, withhere and there a low bare hill, all black and red and grey, withstuddings of mica flashing in the rays of the afternoon sun.
"We'll find them. We've got to. I have just been thinking: Living onthe edge of the bad lands the way this man does he must occasionallycross them. Tex said that the Split Rock water-hole was the only onebetween the river and the mountains. We'll start the horses out andgive them their heads, and the chances are they will take us to thewater-hole. In all probability Tex and Bat will be there. If they arenot we will have to find them."
"Of course!" assented the girl. "Oh, Win, I'm so proud of you! Icouldn't be any prouder if you were a--a real cowboy!" Endicottlaughed heartily, and urged his horse forward. The animals crossedseveral low ridges and struck into a coulee which they followedunhesitatingly. When it petered out in a wide basin, they struck intoanother coulee, and continued their course, covering the miles at along, swinging trot. At sundown Endicott reined in sharply and pointedto the northward. "It's the ridge of the Split Rock!" he cried; "andlook, there is the soda hill!" There it was only a mile or twoaway--the long black ridge with the huge rock fragment at its end, andalmost touching it, the high round hill that the Texan had described.
The horses pressed eagerly forward, seeming to know that rest and waterwere soon to be theirs. "I wonder if they are there," breathed thegirl, "and I wonder if they are--all right."
A few minutes later the horses swung around the base of the hill and,with an exclamation of relief, Endicott saw two figures seated besidethe detached fragment of rock that lay near the end of the ridge.
The Texan arose slowly and advanced toward them, smiling: "Goodevenin'," he greeted, casually, as he eyed the pair with evidentapproval. "You sure come a-runnin'. We didn't expect you 'til alongabout noon tomorrow. And we didn't expect you at all," he said to thegirl. "We figured you'd shove on to Timber City, an' then Win wouldget a guide an' come back in the mornin'."
Endicott laughed: "When I learned there was such a place as TimberCity, I intended to leave her there and return alone--only I was notgoing to wait 'til morning to do it. But she wouldn't hear of it, sowe compromised--and she came with me."
Tex smiled: "It's a great thing to learn how to compromise." He staredfor a few moments toward the west, where the setting sun left the skyablaze with fiery light. Then, still smiling, he advanced toward themwith both hands extended: "I wish you luck," he said, softly. "I caredfor you a mighty lot, Miss Alice, but I'm a good loser. I reckon,maybe it's better things worked out the way they did." Endicottpressed the outstretched hand with a mighty grip and turned swiftlyaway to fumble at his latigo strap. And there were tears in the girl'seyes as her fingers lingered for a moment in the Texan's grasp: "Oh,I--I'm sorry. I----"
"You don't need to be," the man whispered. "You chose the best of thetwo." He indicated Endicott with a slight jerk of the head. "You'vegot a real man there--an' they're oncommon hard to find. An' now, ifyou've got some grub along suppose we tie into it. I'm hungry enoughto gnaw horn!"
As Alice proceeded to set out the food, the Texan's eyes for the firsttime strayed to the horses. "How much did Long Bill Kearney soak youfor the loan of his saddle-horses?"
"Nothing," answered Endicott, "and he supplied us with the grub, too."
"He, what?"
"Fact," smiled the other, "he demurred a little, but----"
"Long Bill's the hardest character in Choteau County."
Endicott glanced at his swollen knuckles: "He is hard, all right."
Tex eyed him in amazement, "Win, you didn't--punch his head for him!"
"I did--and his stomach, too. We were nearly starved, and he refusedus food. Told us to go back where we came from. So I reached for himand he dozed off."
"But where was his guns?"
"I took them away from him before I tied him up."
"Where is he now?"
"Tied up. He called me a lot of names because I turned the horses intohis alfalfa. They were hungry and they enjoyed it, but Bill nearlyblew up. Then we got dinner and took the horses and came away."
"You're the luckiest man out of hell! You doggoned pilgrim, you!" Texroared with laughter: "Why accordin' to dope, he'd ought to just et youup."
"He whined like a puppy, when we left him, for fear we would get lostand he would starve to death. He is yellow."
"His kind always is--way down in their guts. Only no one ever made himshow it before."
"How far did we miss the water-hole last night?" asked Endicott, as heand Tex sat talking after the others had sought their blankets.
"About two miles. The wind drifted us to the east. Bat didn't get far'til his horse went down, so he bled him like we did, and holed up 'tilthe storm quit. Then, after things cleared up, we got here about thesame time. The water ain't much--but it sure did taste good." For along time the two lay close together looking up at the million winkingstars. Tex tossed the butt of a cigarette into the grey dust. "She'sa great girl, Win. Game plumb to her boot heels."
"She is, that. I've loved her for a long time--since way back in mycollege days--but she wouldn't have me."
"You hadn't earnt her. Life's like that--it's ups an' downs. But, inthe long run, a man gets about what's comin' to him. It's likepoker--in the long run the best player is bound to win. There's timeswhen luck is against him, maybe for months at a stretch. He'll loseevery time he plays, but if he stays with it, an' keeps on playin' thebest he knows how, an' don't go tryin' to force his luck by drawin'four cards, an' fillin' three-card flushes, why, some day luck willchange an' he wins back all he's lost an' a lot more with it, becausethere's always someone in the game that's throwin' their money awaydrawin' to a Judson."
"What is a Judson?"
"Bill Judson was a major, an' next to playin' poker, he liked otherthings. Every time he'd get three cards of a suit in a row, he'd drawto 'em, hopin' for a straight flush. That hope cost him, I reckon,hundreds of dollars, an' at last he filled one--but, hell! Everyonelaid down, an' he gathered the ante." The Texan rolled anothercigarette. "An' that's the way it is with me--I tried to force myluck. I might as well own up to it right here an' get it over with.You've be'n square, straight through, an' I haven't. I was stringin'you with all that bunk about politics, an' you bein' sure to get hungfor shootin' Purdy. Fact is, the grand jury would have turned youloose as soon as your case come up. But, from the first minute I laideyes on that girl, I wanted her. I'm bad enough, but not like Purdy.I figured if she'd go half-way, I'd go the other half. So I plannedthe raid on the wool-warehouse, an' the fake lynchin', purpose to gether out of town. I didn't care a damn about you--you was just anexcuse to get her away. I figured on losing you after we hit themountains. The first jolt I got was in the warehouse, when we didn'thave to drag you out. Then I got another hell of a one in the couleeunder the cottonwoods. Then they got to comin' so thick I lost trackof 'em. An' the first thing I knew I would have killed any man thatwould look crossways at _her_. It come over me all of a sudden that Iloved her. I tried to get out of it, but I was hooked. I watchedclose, an' I saw that she liked me--maybe not altogether for what shethought I'd done for you. But you was in the road. I knew she likedyou, too, though she wouldn't show it. 'Everything's fair in love orwar,' I kept sayin' over an' over to myself when I'd lay thinkin' itover of nights. But, I knew it was a damned lie when I was sayin' it.If you'd be'n milk-gutted, an' louse-hearted, like pilgrims aresupposed to be, there'd be'n a different story to tell, because youwouldn't have be'n fit for her. But I liked you most as hard as Iloved her. 'From now on it's a square game,' I says, so I made Old ManJohnson cough up that outfit of raiment, an' made
you shave, so shewouldn't have to take you lookin' like a sheep-herdin' greaser, if shewas a-goin' to take you instead of me. After that I come right out an'told her just where I stood, an' from then on I've played the gamesquare. The women ain't divided up right in this world. There oughtto have be'n two of her, but they ain't another in the whole world, Ireckon, like her; so one of us had to lose. An', now, seein' how I'velied you into all this misery, you ought to just naturally up an' knockhell out of me. We'll still keep the game fair an' square. I'll throwaway my gun an' you can sail in as quick as you get your sleeves rolledup. But, I doubt if you can get away with it, at that."
Endicott laughed happily, and in the darkness his hand stole across andgripped the hand of the Texan in a mighty grip: "I wish to God therewas some way I could thank you," he said. "Had it not been for you, Inever could have won her. Why, man, I never got acquainted with myselfuntil the past three days!"
"There ain't any posses out," grinned Tex. "The fellow I met in thecoulee there by Antelope Butte told me. They think you were lynched.He told me somethin' else, too--but that'll keep."
As they were saddling up, the following morning, the Texan grinned:"I'll bet old Long Bill Kearney's in a pleasin' frame of mind."
"He's had time to meditate a little on his sins," answered Alice.
"No--not Long Bill ain't. If he started in meditatin' on them, he'dstarve to death before he'd got meditated much past sixteen--an' he'sfifty, if he's a day."
"There are four of us and only three horses," exclaimed Endicott, as hetightened his cinch.
"That's all right. The horses are fresh. I'm light built, an' we'llchange off makin' 'em carry double. It ain't so far."
The morning sun was high when the horses turned into the coulee thatled to Long Bill's ranch. Bat, who had scouted ahead to make sure thathe had not succeeded in slipping his bonds and had plotted mischief,sat grinning beside the corral fence as he listened, unobserved, to thewhimpering and wailing of the man who lay bound beside the cabin door.
"What's the matter, Willie?" smiled Tex, as he slipped from his seatbehind Endicott's saddle. "Didn't your breakfast set right?"
The man rolled to face them at the sound of the voice, and such astream of obscene blasphemy poured from his lips as to cause even theTexan to wince. Without a word the cowboy reached for a bar of soapthat lay awash in the filthy water of a basin upon a bench beside thedoor, and jammed it down the man's throat. The sounds changed to asputtering, choking gurgle. "Maybe that'll learn you not to talk vilewhen there's ladies around."
"Water!" the man managed to gasp.
"Will you quit your damn swearin'?"
Long Bill nodded, and Tex held a dipper to his lips.
"Go catch up the horses, Bat, an' we'll be gettin' out of here. They'ssome reptiles so mean that even their breath is poison."
As Bat started for the alfalfa field the man fairly writhed with fury:"I'll hev the law on ye, ye--" he stopped abruptly as Tex reached forthe soap.
"You won't have the law on no one, you lizard! You don't dare to getwithin hollerin' distance of the law."
"I will pay you a reasonable amount for any damage to your field, andfor the food, and the use of your horses," offered Endicott, reachingfor his pocket.
"Keep your money, Win," grinned the Texan. "Let me pay for this. Thiscoyote owes me twenty dollars he borrowed from me when I first hit thecountry an' didn't know him. He's always be'n anxious to pay it, ain'tyou, Bill? Well, it's paid now, an' you don't need to go worryin' yourheart out about that debt no longer."
Again the man opened his lips, but closed them hurriedly as Tex reachedfor the soap.
"I'll have to borrow your horse an' saddle for my friend, here," saidthe Texan, "an' Bat, he'll have to borrow one, too. We'll leave 'em inTimber City."
"_Non_!" cried the half-breed, who had paused in the process ofchanging Alice's saddle to her own horse. "Me--I ain' gon' for bor' nohoss. Am tak' dis hoss an' giv' heem back to Judge Carson. Him b'longover on Sage Creek."
"Whad'ye mean, ye red scum!" screamed the man, his face growing purple."That Circle 12 brand is----"
"Ha! Circle 12! De mos' dat Circle 12 she hair-bran'." He steppedinto the cabin and reappeared a moment later with some coal-oil in acup. This he poured into his hand and rubbed over the brand on thehorse's shoulder. And when he had pressed the hair flat, the Circle 12resolved itself into a V 2.
The Texan laughed: "I suppose I ought to take you into Timber City, butI won't. I imagine, though, when the Judge hears about this, you'dbetter be hittin' the high spots. He's right ugly with horse thieves."
"Hey, hain't ye goin' to ontie me?" squealed the man, as the fourstarted down the bank with the horses.
"You don't suppose I'd go off an' leave a good rope where you could getyour claws on it, do you? Wait 'til we get these horses onto theflat-boat, and all the guns around here collected so you can't peck atus from the brush, an' I'll be back."
"You gon' on to Timbaire City," said Bat, "an' I'm com' long bye-m-bye.A'm tak' dis hoss an' ride back an' git ma saddle an' bridle." Headvanced and removed his hat; "_Adieu, ma'mselle_, mebbe-so I ain' gitdere 'til you gon'. Ol' Bat, he lak' you fine. You need de help,som'tam', you mak' de write to ol' Bat an', ba Goss, A'm com' lak'hell--you bet you dam' life!" Tears blinded the girl's eyes as sheheld out her hand, and as a cavalier of old France, the half-breed bentand brushed it with his lips. He shook the hand of Endicott: "Som'tam'mebbe-so you com' back, we tak' de hont. Me--A'm know where de elk an'de bear liv' plenty." Endicott detected a twinkle in his eye as heturned to ascend the bank: "You mak' Tex ke'p de strong lookout for deposse. A'm no lak' I seen you git hang."
"Beat it! You old reprobate!" called the Texan as he followed him upthe slope.
"How'm I goin' to git my boat back?" whined Long Bill, as the Texancoiled his rope.
"Swim acrost. Or, maybe you'd better go 'round--it's some littlefurther that way, but it's safer if you can't swim. I'll leave yourguns in the boat. So long, an' be sure to remember not to furgetsometime an' pay me back that twenty."
The ride to Timber City was made almost in silence. Only once did theTexan speak. It was when they passed a band of sheep grazing besidethe road: "They're minin' the country," he said, thoughtfully. "Thetime ain't far off when we'll have to turn nester--or move on."
"Where?" asked Alice.
The cowboy shrugged, and the girl detected a note of unconscioussadness in his tone: "I don't know. I reckon there ain't any place forme. The whole country's about wired in."
Timber City, since abandoned to the bats and the coyotes, but then inher glory, consisted of two stores, five saloons, a half-dozen lessreputable places of entertainment, a steepleless board church, aschoolhouse, also of boards, a hotel, a post office, a feed stable,fifty or more board shacks of miners, and a few flimsy buildings at themouths of shafts. It was nearly noon when the three drew up before thehotel.
"Will you dine with us in an hour?" asked Endicott.
The Texan nodded. "Thanks," he said, formally, "I'll be here." And asthe two disappeared through the door, he gathered up the reins, crossedto the feed barn where he turned the animals over to the proprietor,and passing on to the rear, proceeded to take a bath in the wateringtrough.
Punctually on the minute he entered the hotel. The meal was a solemnaffair, almost as silent as the ride from the river. Several attemptsat conversation fell flat, and the effort was abandoned. At no time,however, did the Texan appear embarrassed, and Alice noted that hehandled his knife and fork with the ease of early training.
At the conclusion he arose, abruptly: "I thank you. Will you excuseme, now?"
Alice nodded, and both watched as he crossed the room, his spurstrailing noisily upon the wooden floor.
"Poor devil," said Endicott, "this has hit him pretty hard."
The girl swallowed the rising lump in her throat: "Oh, why can't hemeet some nice girl, and----"
"Women--h
is kind--are mighty scarce out here, I imagine."
The girl placed her elbows upon the table, rested her chin upon herknuckles, and glanced eagerly into Endicott's face:
"Win, you've just got to buy a ranch," she announced, the words fairlytumbling over each other in her excitement. "Then we can come out herepart of the time and live, and we can invite a lot of girls out for thesummer--I just know oodles of nice girls--and Tex can manage the ranch,and----"
"Match-making already!" laughed Endicott. "Why buy a ranch? Why notmove into Wolf River, or Timber City, and start a regular matrimonialagency--satisfaction guaranteed, or your money back. It would be moreprac----"
"Winthrop Adams Endicott!"
"Oh, I forgot! I'm not practical. I'm romantic, and red-blooded,and--" they had the little dining-room to themselves; he rose swiftlyfrom his chair and, crossing to her side, stooped and kissed her, notonce, but twice, and thrice,--"I'm glad of it! And that reminds me, Ihave a couple of errands to attend to, so you will have to manage toworry along without me for fifteen minutes or so."
She laughed up into his face: "How can I ever stand it? I've worriedalong without you all my life. I guess I'll survive."
"You won't have to much longer," he smiled, and hastened from the room.A half-hour later he returned to find her waiting in the hotel"parlour." She saw that his eyes were shining as he crossed eagerly,seated himself upon the haircloth sofa beside her, and whispered in herear.
"Winthrop! Indeed we won't do anything of the kind! Whyit's--it's----"
"It's impractical, and it's romantic," he finished for her. "Also,it's unconventional. Now, refuse if you dare! The stage leaves forLewiston and the railroad at five. He seems to be a regular chap--theparson. Both he and his wife insisted that the event take place intheir house. Said it would be much pleasanter than the hotel--and Iheartily agreed with them. We figured that half-past four would giveus just about time."
"Well, of all things!" blushed the girl. "You two arranged the wholeaffair, and of course, as I'm only the bride, it wasn't necessary toconsult me at all!"
"Exactly," smiled Endicott; "I'm red-blooded, you know, andromantic--and when I go in for little things like unconventionality,and romance, I go the limit. And you don't dare refuse!"
She looked up into his eyes, shining with boyish enthusiasm: "I don'tdare," she whispered. "I don't want to dare. Oh, Win, I--I'm justcrazy about it!"
A few moments later she drew away from him and smoothed her hair.
"You must go right this minute and find Tex. And, oh, I hope Bat willbe here in time! I just love old Bat!" She ceased speaking and lookedquestioningly into his eyes which had suddenly become grave.
"I have been looking for Tex, and I couldn't find him anywhere. Then Iwent to the stable across the street. His horse is gone."
For some moments both were silent. "He never even said good-bye,"faltered the girl, and in her voice was a note of real hurt.
"No," answered Endicott, softly, "he should have said good-bye."
Alice rose and put on her hat: "Come on, let's get out of this hatefulstuffy little room. Let's walk and enjoy this wonderful air while wecan. And besides, we must find some flowers--wild flowers they must befor our wedding, mustn't they, dear? Wild flowers, right from God'sown gardens--wild, and free, and uncultivated--untouched by humanhands. I saw some lovely ones, blue and white, and some wild-cherryblossoms, too, down beside that little creek that crosses the trailalmost at the edge of the town." Together they walked to the creekthat burbled over its rocky bed in the shadow of the bull-pine forestfrom which Timber City derived its name. Deeper and deeper into thepines they went, stopping here and there to gather the tiny white andblue blossoms, or to break the bloom-laden twigs from the low cherrybushes. As they rounded a huge upstanding rock, both paused andinvoluntarily drew back. There, in the centre of a tiny glade thatgave a wide view of the vast sweep of the plains, with their backgroundof distant mountains, stood the Texan, one arm thrown across the neckof his horse, and his cheek resting close against the animal's glossyneck. For a moment they watched as he stood with his eyes fixed on thefar horizon.
"Go back a little way," whispered Endicott. "I want to speak withhim." The girl obeyed, and he stepped boldly into the open.
"Tex!"
The man whirled. "What you doin' here?" his face flushed red, then,with an effort, he smiled, as his eyes rested upon the blossoms."Pickin' posies?"
"Yes," answered Endicott, striving to speak lightly, "for a veryspecial occasion. We are to be married at half-past four, and we wantyou to be there--just you, and Bat, and the parson. I hunted the townfor you and when I found your horse gone I--we thought you had riddenaway without even saying good-bye."
"No," answered the cowboy slowly, "I didn't do that. I was goin'back--just for a minute--at stage time. But, it's better this way. Inrooms--like at dinner, I ain't at home, any more. It's better out herein the open. I won't go to your weddin'. Damn it, man, I _can't_!I'm more than half-savage, I reckon. By the savage half of me, I oughtto kill you. I ought to hate you--but I can't. About a lot of thingsyou're green as hell. You can't shoot, nor ride, nor rope, nor dohardly any other damn thing a man ought to do. But, at that, you whirla bigger loop than I do. You've got the nerve, an' the head, an' theheart. You're a man. The girl loves you. An' I love her. My God,man! More than all the world, I love the woman who is to be yourwife--an' I have no right to! I tell you I'm half-savage! Take her,an' go! Go fast, an' go a long time! I never want to hear of youagain. But--I can still say--good luck!" he extended his hand andEndicott seized it.
"I shall be sorry to think that we are never to meet again," he saidsimply.
The shadow of a smile flickered on the Texan's lips: "After a while,maybe--but not soon. I've got to lick a savage, first--and they diehard."
Endicott turned to go, when the other called to him: "Oh, Win!" Heturned. "Is she here--anywhere around? I must tell her good-bye."
"Yes, she is down the creek a way. I'll send her to you."
The Texan advanced to meet her, Stetson in hand: "Good-bye," he said,"an' good luck. I can't give you no regular weddin' present--there'snothin' in the town that's fit. But, I'll give you this--I'll give youyour man clean-handed. He ain't wanted. There's no one wants him--butyou. He didn't kill Purdy that night. It's too bad he didn't--but hedidn't. We all thought he did, but he only creased him. He came to,after we'd pulled out. I heard it from the puncher I had the fightwith in the coulee--an' it's straight goods." He paused abruptly, andthe girl stared wide-eyed into his face. The wild flowers dropped fromher hands, and she laid trembling fingers upon his arm.
"What are you saying?" she cried, fiercely. "That Purdy is not dead?That Win didn't kill him? That----"
"No. Win didn't kill him," interrupted the Texan, with a smile.
"Have you told Win?"
"No. Weddin' presents are for the bride. I saved it for you."
Tears were streaming from the girl's eyes: "It's the most wonderfulwedding present anybody ever had," she sobbed. "I know Win did it forme, and if he had killed him it would have been justifiable--right.But, always, we would have had that thing to think of. It would havebeen like some hideous nightmare. We could have put it away, but itwould have come again--always. I pretended I didn't care. I wouldn'tlet him see that it was worrying me, even more than it worried him."
The cowboy stooped and recovered the flowers from the ground. As Alicetook them from him, her hand met his: "Good-bye," she faltered,"and--may God bless you!"
At the rock she turned and saw him still standing, hat in hand, as shehad left him. Then she passed around the rock, and down the creek,where her lover waited with his arms laden with blossoms.
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