Cow-Country

by B. M. Bower

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN: THE SINKS

  "We can go through the pasture and cut off a couple of miles," saidHoney when they were mounted. "I hope you don't think I'm crazy, wantinga ride at this time of day, after all the excitement we've had. Butevery Sunday is taken up with horse-racing till late in the afternoon,and during the week no one has time to go. And," she added with asidelong look at him, "there's something about the Sinks that makes melove to go there. Uncle Dave won't let me go alone."

  Bud dismounted to pull down the two top bars of the pasture gate so thattheir horses could step over. A little way down the grassy slope Smokyand Sunfish fed together, the Little Lost horses grouped nearer thecreek.

  "I love that little horse of yours--why, he's gone lame again!"exclaimed Honey. "Isn't that a shame! You oughtn't to run him if it doesthat to him."

  "He likes it," said Bud carelessly as he remounted. "And so do I, when Ican clean up the way I did today. I'm over three hundred dollars richerright now than I was this morning."

  "And next Sunday, maybe you'll be broke," Honey added significantly."You never know how you are coming out. I think Jeff let you win to-dayon purpose, so you'd bet it all again and lose. He's like that. He don'tcare how much he loses one day, because he gets it back some other time.I don't like it. Some of the boys never do get ahead, and you'll be inthe same fix if you don't look out."

  "You didn't bring me along to lecture me, I know," said Bud with agood-natured smile. "What about the Sinks? Is it a dangerous placeas--Mrs. Morris says?"

  "Oh, Marian? She never does want me to come. She thinks I ought to stayin the house always, the way she does. The Sinks is--is--queer. Thereare caves, and then again deep holes straight down, and tracks ofwildcats and lions. And in some places you can hear gurgles and rumbles.I love to be there just at sundown, because the shadows are spooky andit makes you feel--oh, you know--kind of creepy up your back. You don'tknow what might happen. I--do you believe in ghosts and haunted places,Bud?"

  "I'd need a lot of scaring before I did. Are the Sinks haunted?"

  "No-o--but there are funny noises and people have got lost there. Anywaythey never showed up afterwards. The Indians claim it's haunted." Shesmiled that baring smile of hers. "Do you want to turn around and goback?"

  "Sure. After we've had our ride, and seen the sights." And he added withsome satisfaction, "The moon 's full to-night, and no clouds."

  "And I brought sandwiches," Honey threw in as especial blessing. "UncleDave will be mad, I expect. But I've never seen the Sinks at night, withmoonlight."

  She was quiet while the horses waded Sunk Creek and picked their waycarefully over a particularly rocky stretch beyond. "But what I'd ratherdo," she said, speaking from her thoughts which had evidently carriedforward in the silence, "is explore Catrock Canyon."

  "Well, why not, if we have time?" Bud rode up alongside her. "Is itfar?"

  Honey looked at him searchingly. "You must be stranger to these parts,"she said disbelievingly. "Do you think you can make me swallow that?"

  Bud looked at her inquiringly, which forced her to go on.

  "You must know about Catrock Canyon, Bud Birnie. Don't try to make mebelieve you don't."

  "I don't. I never heard of it before that I remember. What is it makesyou want to explore it?"

  Honey studied him. "You're the queerest specimen I ever did see," sheexclaimed pettishly. "Why, it's not going to hurt you to admit you knowCatrock Canyon is--unexplorable."

  "Oh. So you want to explore it because it's unexplorable. Well, why isit unexplorable?"

  Honey looked around her at the dry sageland they were crossing. "Oh, youmake me TIRED!" she said bluntly, with something of the range roughnessin her voice. "Because it is, that's all."

  "Then I'd like to explore it myself," Bud declared.

  "For one thing," Honey dilated, "there's no way to get in there. Up onthe ridge this side, where the rock is that throws a shadow like a cat'shead on the opposite wall, you can look down a ways. But the two sidescome so close together at the top that you can't see the bottom of thecanyon at all. I've been on the ridge where I could see the cat's head."

  Bud glanced speculatively up at the sun, and Honey, catching hismeaning, shook her head and smiled.

  "If we get into the Sinks and back to-day, they will do enough talkingabout it; or Uncle Dave will, and Marian. I--I thought perhaps you'd beable to tell me about--Catrock Canyon."

  "I'm able to say I don't know a thing about it. If no one can get intoit, I should think that's about all, isn't it?"

  "Yes--you'd think so," Honey agreed enigmatically, and began to talkof the racing that day, and of the dance, and of other dances and otherraces yet to come. Bud discussed these subjects for a while and thenasked boldly, "When's Lew coming back?"

  "Lew?" Honey shot a swift glance at him. "Why?" She looked ahead at theforbidding, craggy hills toward which she had glanced when she spoke ofCatrock. "Why, I don't know. How should I?"

  Bud saw that he had spoken unwisely. "I was thinking he'd maybe hateto miss another running match like to-day," he explained guilelessly."Everybody and his dog seemed to be there to-day, and everybody hadmoney up. All," he modified, "except the Muleshoe boys. I didn't see anyof them."

  "You won't," Honey told him with some emphasis. "Uncle Dave and theMuleshoe are on the outs. They never come around except for mail andthings from the store. And most always they send Hen. Uncle Dave andDirk Tracy had an awful row last winter. It was next thing to a killing.So of course the outfits ain't on friendly terms."

  This was more than Pop had gossiped to Bud, and since the whole thingwas of no concern to him, and Honey plainly objected to talking aboutMarian's husband, he was quite ready to fix his interest once more uponthe Sinks. He was surprised when they emerged from a cluster of small,sage-covered knolls, directly upon the edge of what at first sightseemed to be another dry river bed--sprawled wider, perhaps, withirregular arms thrust back into the less sterile land. They rode down asteep, rocky trail and came out into the Sinks.

  It was an odd, forbidding place, and the farther up the gravelly bottomthey rode, the more forbidding it became. Bud thought that in the timewhen Indians were dangerous as she-bears the Sinks would not be a placewhere a man would want to ride. There were too many jutting crags, toomany unsuspected, black holes that led back--no one knew just where.

  Honey led the way to an irregular circle of waterwashed cobbles andBud peered down fifty feet to another dry, gravelly bottom seemingly aduplicate of the upper surface. She rode on past other caves, and lethim look down into other holes. There were faint rumblings in some ofthese, but in none was there any water showing save in stagnant pools inthe rock where the rain had fallen.

  "There's one cave I like to go into," said Honey at last. "It's a littlefarther on, but we have time enough. There's a spring inside, and wecan eat our sandwiches. It isn't dark-there are openings to the top, andlots of funny, winding passages. That," she finished thrillingly, "isthe place the Indians claim is haunted."

  Bud did not shudder convincingly, and they rode slowly forward, pickingtheir way among the rocks. The cave yawned wide open to the sun, whichhung on the top of Catrock Peak. They dismounted, anchored the reinswith rocks and went inside.

  When Bud had been investigative Buddy, he had explored more caves thanhe could count. He had filched candles from his mother and had creptback and back until the candle flame flickered warning that he wasnearing the "damps" Indians always did believe caves were haunted,probably because they did not understand the "damps", and thought evilspirits had taken those who went in and never returned. Buddy had oncebeen lost in a cave for four harrowing hours, and had found his way outby sheer luck, passing the skeleton of an Indian and taking the tomahawkas a souvenir.

  Wherefore this particular cave, with a spring back fifty feet from theentrance where a shaft of sunlight struck the rock through some obscureslit in the rock, had no thrill for him. But the floor was of fine,white sand, and the ceiling was kn
obby and grotesque, and he was quitewilling to sit there beside the spring and eat two sandwiches and talkfoolishness with Honey, using that part of his mind which was not busywith the complexities of winning money on the speed of his horses whenthree horses represented his entire business capital, and with wonderingwhat was wrong with Burroback Valley, that three persons of widelydifferent viewpoints had felt it necessary to caution him,--and hadcouched their admonitions in such general terms that he could not feelthe force of their warning.

  He was thinking back along his life to where false alarms of Indianoutbreaks had played a very large part in the Tomahawk's affairs, andhow little of the ranch work would ever have been done had they listenedto every calamity howler that came along. Honey was talking, and he wasanswering partly at random, when she suddenly laughed and got up.

  "You must be in love, Bud Birnie. You just said 'yes' when I asked youif you didn't think water snakes would be coming out this fall withtheir stripes running round them instead of lengthwise! You didn't heara word--now, did you?"

  "I heard music," Bud lied gallantly, "and I knew it was your voice. I'dprobably say yes if you asked me whether the moon wouldn't look betterwith a ruffle around it."

  "I'll say the moon will be wondering where we are, if we don't startback. The sun's down."

  Bud got up from sitting cross-legged like a Turk, helped Honey to herfeet--and felt her fingers clinging warmly to his own. He led the wayto the cave's mouth, not looking at her. "Great sunset," he observedcarelessly, glancing up at the ridge while he held her horse for her tomount.

  Honey showed that she was perfectly at home in the saddle. She rode onahead, leaving Bud to mount and follow. He was just swinging leisurelyinto the saddle when Stopper threw his head around, glancing backtoward the level just beyond the cave. At the same instant Bud heard thefamiliar, unmistakable swish of a rope headed his way.

  He flattened himself along Stopper's left shoulder as the loop settledand tightened on the saddle horn, and dropped on to the ground asStopper whirled automatically to the right and braced himself againstthe strain. Bud turned half kneeling, his gun in his hand ready for theshot he expected would follow the rope. But Stopper was in action-thebest ropehorse the Tomahawk had ever owned. For a few seconds he stoodbraced, his neck arched, his eyes bright and watchful. Then he leapedforward, straight at the horse and the rider who was in the act ofleveling his gun. The horse hesitated, taken unaware by the onslaught.When he started to run Stopper was already passing him, turning sharplyto the right again so that the rope raked the horse's front legs. Twojumps and Stopper had stopped, faced the horse and stood braced again,his ears perked knowingly while he waited for the flop.

  It came--just as it always did come when Stopper got action on the endof a rope. Horse and rider came down together. They would not get upuntil Bud wished it--he could trust Stopper for that--so Bud walked overto the heap, his gun ready for action--and that, too, could be trustedto perform with what speed and precision was necessary. There would beno hasty shooting, however; Buddy had learned to save his bullets forreal need when ammunition was not to be had for the asking, and grown-upBud had never outgrown the habit.

  He picked up the fellow's six-shooter which he had dropped when he fell,and stood sizing up the situation.

  By the neckerchief drawn across his face it was a straight case ofholdup. Bud stooped and yanked off the mask and looked into the glaringeyes of one whom he had never before seen.

  "Well, how d'yuh like it, far as you've got?" Bud asked curiously."Think you were holding up a pilgrim, or what?"

  Just then, BING-GG sang a rifle bullet from the ridge above the cave.Bud looked that way and spied a man standing half revealed against therosy clouds that were already dulling as dusk crept up from the lowground. It was a long shot for a six-shooter, but Buddy used to shootantelope almost that far, so Bud lifted his arm and straightened it,just as if he were pointing a finger at the man, and fired. He had thesatisfaction of seeing the figure jerk backward and go off over theridge in a stooping kind of run.

  "He'd better hurry back if he wants another shot at me," Bud grinned."It'll be so dark down here in a minute he couldn't pick me up with hisfront sight if I was--as big a fool as you are. How about it? I'll justlead you into camp, I think--but you sure as hell couldn't get a jobroping gateposts, on the strength of this little exhibition."

  He went over to Stopper and untied his own rope, giving an approving patto that business-like animal. "Hope your leg isn't broken or anything,"he said to the man when he returned and passed the loop over thefellow's head and shoulders, drawing it rather snugly around his bodyand pinning his arms at the elbows. "It would be kind of unpleasant ifthey happen to take a notion to make you walk all the way to jail."

  He beckoned Stopper, who immediately moved up, slackening the rope. Thethrown horse drew up his knees, gave a preliminary heave and scrambledto his feet, Bud taking care that the man was pulled free and safe. Thefellow stood up sulkily defiant, unable to rest much of his weight onhis left leg.

  Bud had ten busy minutes, and it was not until they were both mountedand headed for Little Lost, the captive with his arms tied behind him,his feet tied together under the horse, which Bud led, that Bud had timeto wonder what it was all about. Then he began to look for Honey, whohad disappeared. But in the softened light of the rising moon minglingwith the afterglow of sunset, he saw the deep imprints of her horse'shoofs where he had galloped homeward. Bud did not think she ran awaybecause she was frightened; she had seemed too sure of herself for that.She had probably gone for help.

  A swift suspicion that the attack might have been made from jealousydied when Bud looked again at his prisoner. The man was swarthy, low ofbrow--part Indian, by the look of him. Honey would never give the fellowa second thought. So that brought him to the supposition that robberyhad been intended, and the inference was made more logical when Budremembered that Marian had warned him against something of the sort.Probably he and Honey had been followed into the Sinks, and even thoughBud had not seen this man at the races, his partner up on the ridgemight have been there. It was all very simple, and Bud, having arrivedat the obvious conclusion, touched Stopper into a lope and arrived atLittle Lost just as Dave Truman and three of his men were riding downinto Sunk Creek ford on their way to the Sinks. They pulled up, staringhard at Dave and his captive. Dave spoke first.

  "Honey said you was waylaid and robbed or killed--both, we took it, fromher account. How'd yuh come to get the best of it so quick?"

  "Why, his horse got tangled up in the rope and fell down, and fell ontop of him," Bud explained cheerfully. "I was bringing him in. He'sa bad citizen, I should judge, but he didn't do me any damage, as itturned out, so I don't know what to do with him. I'll just turn him overto you, I think."

  "Hell! I don't want him," Dave protested. "I'll pass him along to thesheriff--he may know something about him. Nelse and Charlie, you takeand run him in to Crater and turn him over to Kline. You tell Kline whathe done--or tried to do. Was he alone, Bud?"

  "He had a partner up on the ridge, so far off I couldn't swear to him ifI saw him face to face. I took a shot at him, and I think I nicked him.He ducked, and there weren't any more rifle bullets coming my way."

  "You nicked him with your six-shooter? And him so far off you couldn'trecognize him again?" Dave looked at Bud sharply. "That's purty goodshootin', strikes me."

  "Well, he stood up against the sky-line, and he wasn't more thanseventy-five yards," Bud explained. "I've dropped antelope that far,plenty of times. The light was bad, this evening."

  "Antelope," Dave repeated meditatively, and winked at his men. "Allright, Bud--we'll let it stand at antelope. Boys, you hit for Craterwith this fellow. You ought to make it there and back by tomorrow noon,all right."

  Nelse took the lead rope from Bud and the two started off up the creek,meaning to strike the road from Little Lost to Crater, the county seatbeyond Gold Gap mountains. Bud rode on to the ranch with his boss, andtried to answer
Dave's questions satisfactorily without relating his ownprowess or divulging too much of Stopper's skill; which was something ofa problem for his wits.

  Honey ran out to meet him and had to be assured over and over that hewas not hurt, and that he had lost nothing but his temper and the ridehome with her in the moonlight. She was plainly upset and anxious thathe should not think her cowardly, to leave him that way.

  "I looked back and saw a man throwing his rope, and you--it looked as ifhe had dragged you off the horse. I was sure I saw you falling. So I ranmy horse all the way home, to get Uncle Dave and the boys," she toldhim tremulously. And then she added, with her tantalizing half smile, "Ibelieve that horse of mine could beat Smoky or Skeeter, if I was scaredthat bad at the beginning of a race."

  Bud, in sheer gratitude for her anxiety over him, patted Honey's handand told her she must have broken the record, all right, and that shehad done exactly the right thing. And Honey went to bed happy thatnight.