CHAPTER XXIII
THE SMOKE OF CONFLICT
"Found him hid right pretty in a gully," said Hockling, indicating theextra horse.
"Yore hoss, Marvin?" queried Loudon.
Marvin nodded surlily. He had had his share of the water in therescuers' canteens, but he was no happier.
"It's shore providential, yore happenin' down this way," said Loudon."We'll do as much for you some day."
"Yo're welcome, but it ain't none providential, Tom," denied Hockling."Me an' Red was fixin' the corral fence at the camp when up come KateSaltoun on the jump an' says how yuh was standin' off six men oppositeBox Hill. 'It's them deputies!' shouts Red, an' ropes a hossimmediate. Well, we come along, the three of us, an' that's all. Itwas long range, but I think I drilled one deputy. Red creased one,too."
"Yuh bet I did!" cried Red Kane. "I seen his arm flop when I fired."
"What's that about the three o' yuh comin' along?" said Loudon.
"Why, Kate, she was with us. She changed her saddle to one of ourfresh hosses. She wouldn't quit nohow till she heard yuh say yuh wasall right. Then she started off home. Funny, she was ridin' a 88 ponywhen she struck the line-camp."
"That's odd, but it don't matter none. I'll--I'll see Kate later."
"Shore," said Hockling, wondering at the lack of warmth in Loudon'stone. But Western etiquette forbids the questioning of another'smotives.
"Say," remarked Red, hastening to break the awkward silence, "say,won't Block feel happy when he finds we've done ventilated hisdeputies?"
"Yeah," replied Loudon, "an' the funny part of it is, they ain't got noright to arrest me. That warrant has been pulled in."
"Yuh shore forgot to mention that last night," Hockling said,disgustedly. "Here Red an' me have been pattin' ourselves on the backfor runnin' a blazer on the law. An' now, come to find out, themdeputies was in the wrong, an' so we only give 'em what was comin' to'em, anyway."
"Well, you've got a nerve, you have!" exclaimed the indignant Loudon."Do yuh think I'm goin' round dodgin' warrants so you two jiggers canrun blazers on the sheriff?"
He made a swift movement.
"Leggo my legs!" yelled Hockling. "I got on my new pants, an' I don'twant the seat tore out! Hey, yuh idjit! Leggo!"
When order was restored and Hockling was tenderly feeling his precioustrousers, Loudon suggested that Red, the lightest man, take Marvin'sfresh pony and ride to the line-camp for food and two horses.
"Yuh'll have yore work cut out," said Red as he mounted, "to ride themponies bareback. We ain't even got a extra bridle."
"Don't worry none," Loudon said. "We'll make bridles an' Injunsurcingles out o' Marvin's rope, an' we'll toss for his saddle."
"How you feel, Tom?" inquired Laguerre, stretched at ease on a cot inthe Cross-in-a-box ranch house.
"Whittled to the chin," replied Loudon. "Which that pony's ridgepolecould give odds to a knife-blade on bein' sharp. We might 'a' knowedMarvin would win the toss. His own saddle, too."
"Eet ees de las' piece o' luck she weel have for varree long tam."
"I ain't so shore about that. There's no real evidence to show thatMarvin's a rustler. 'Ceptin' Rudd, yuh can't connect any of the 88outfit with the hoss stealin'. I know they done it. I always knowedSam Blakely was at the bottom of it, an' I can't prove it yet. Here'syou an' I rode from hell to breakfast an' back, an' all we've got toshow for it is Archer an' the Maxson boys--an' the hosses, o' course.Unless I find out somethin' more soon an' sudden, I've got to take offMarvin's hobbles. My bluff about Bill Archer's blabbin' ain't workin'with Marvin. He's worried, an' he shows it, but he's standin' pat. Ispent a solid hour with him to-night, an' all he does is cuss an' beefabout what'll happen when Blakely finds out his range-boss has beenkidnapped. It makes me sick!"
Laguerre nodded sympathetically.
"Yuh can't tell me," continued Loudon, "that them Marysville sports wasthe only ones in the hoss-stealin' deal. If they was, then why wasPete O'Leary expectin' Sam Blakely the day I struck the Bend, an' whywas Rufe Cutting planted in the cook's job at the Flyin' M? It allpoints--so far. An' the rustlin' o' the Bar S an' Cross-in-a-boxcattle--there's another mystery. Oh, it's a great life, this heredetective business!"
"Tell you w'at, Tom," Laguerre suggested, hopefully, "you un me, huh,we weel bushwhack dees Blak'lee feller. W'at you say?"
"Can't be did, Telescope. We've got to get him the right way, so thefolks o' Sunset an' Fort Creek'll know just why he went. That goes forhis outfit an' Block an' his deputies, too. They're all in it up totheir belts. They've made Fort Creek County what it is--a place wherea straight gent has to watch himself an' what's around him all thetime. Shorty Simms killed the Sheriff o' Sunset, but Blakely an' the88 made the killin' possible. Oh, what's the use? I'm goin' to sleep."
But Loudon did not go to sleep at once. He had too much on his mind.From Blakely and the 88 his perplexed thoughts shifted to Kate Saltounand the sinful ease with which she had made a fool of him; he hadtrusted her, and she had betrayed him. The daughter of a ranchman, shehad flouted the law of the range. Given the thief money, too. It wasalmost incredible.
Idiot that he was, to believe for an instant that she loved him!Knowing her of old, it served him right, he told himself. He thankedHeaven that he did not love her, had not loved her since that day inthe Bar S kitchen.
Quite naturally then, since he was so absolutely sure of himself andhis emotions, he wondered how Rudd had had the luck to save Kate'slife. He wished that it had been himself, in order that he might havemade some small return for services rendered.
She had done a great deal for him at the Bend. She had simplified amost complex situation by bringing to his assistance Hockling and RedKane. He undoubtedly owed a lot to Kate. Nevertheless, he assuredhimself that her conduct in the matter of Rudd's escape had squared theaccount. Of course it had. And he was glad of it. For, under thecircumstances, he would never have to see her again. The SpinningSister heard, and smiled--and Loudon fell asleep.
"Hey, Tom! Wake up!"
It was Jack Richie's voice that shouted, and it was Jack Richie's handthat shook Loudon awake.
"Whatsa matter?" Loudon opened sleepy eyes.
"Yore hoss is outside. Yore hoss, Ranger, an'----"
Jack Richie was almost overset by the blanket-shedding cyclone thatwhirled out of bed and through the doorway. In front of the ranchhouse stood Ranger, surrounded by Richie's amazed and conjecturingcowboys. The horse raised his wise head, cocked his ears, and nickeredsoftly at Loudon's approach.
"It's him," grinned Loudon. "It's the little hoss. Well, fellah, youold tiger-eye!"
He rubbed the white spot on Ranger's nose. The horse nipped hisfingers with soft lips.
"Found him tied to the post out back o' the wagon shed," volunteeredthe cook. "I thought I was seein' things."
"Funny he didn't whinner," said Loudon.
"There was a flour-sack over his head," explained the cook. "Here itis."
"That don't tell me nothin'," Loudon said. "Everybody uses Triple X.An' that hackamore could be just anybody's, too. Whoever brought himshore walked in the water."
"It ain't likely possible now," observed Jack Richie, "that RufeCutting could 'a' got religion or somethin'."
"It's possible, but it ain't likely," said Loudon. "Well, fellah,c'mon an' get yuh a drink, an' then for the big feed. Yo're gone off agood forty pounds since yuh quit me."
Later, Loudon, in company with Laguerre, visited the post where Rangerhad been tied. Laguerre closely scrutinized the ground in the vicinity.
"Hoss she been tied up six-seven hour," observed Laguerre.
"It's 'bout half-past five now. That makes it ten or eleven when hewas brought in."
"'Bout dat. Feller lead heem een. Hard to read de sign on de grass,but eet look lak de feller not walk good een hees boot--dey too beeg,mabbeso. Come 'long. We weel see w'ere feller she leave hees hoss."
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nbsp; They followed the trail a hundred yards, and then Laguerre knelt down,his eyes searching the grass. He picked up a small stone and held itup. The stone was sharp-cornered. It was stained a dark red.
"Feller she treep un fall on hees han's un knees," explained Laguerre."Lef han' heet de leetle rock, un geet cut some. Han' bleed on eet."
Laguerre rose, tossed away the stone, and proceeded to follow thetrail. He led the way to a tall pine some three hundred yards distantfrom the ranch house. Even Loudon's unpractised eyes told him that ahorse had stood beneath the pine.
"Here feller she climb een de saddle un go 'way," said Laguerre. "Nouse follow de trail any more."
They returned to the ranch house, Loudon wondering greatly as to theidentity of the mysterious philanthropist. In Cow Land a stolen horseis not returned except under compulsion. While they were at dinner thecook stuck his head through the doorway.
"Bunch o' riders a-comin' from the north," he announced, "an' they'rea-comin' some swift."
"Scotty!" exclaimed Loudon, and ran to the window.
"It may be the sheriff," said Jack Richie, hastening to provide himselfwith a Winchester.
"It's Scotty," Loudon said. "I can tell him a mile off. He's wearin'the same shirt, red sleeve an' all."
The horsemen, some thirty men, rode up at an easy lope. BesidesScotty, Loudon recognized Doubleday, Johnny Ramsay, Chuck Morgan, SwingTunstall, Giant Morton, Ragsdale, and many others.
"He's brought the whole ranch an' half the Bend," chuckled Loudon, andthen swore gently, because he suddenly remembered that there was noevidence against Blakely.
With thirty men the 88 could be shown the error of its ways mosteffectually. And now the thirty could not be used. What a waste ofgood material!
The band of horsemen, bawling greetings to the group in the doorway,jingled to a halt. Loudon stepped forward and shook Scotty's profferedhand.
"Yuh've sure done fine," said Scotty. "Yuh've filled out just what Isaid 'bout opportunity with a big O. I ain't forgettin' it, neither.Besides Rudd now, did yuh run across anythin' touchin' Sam Blakely?"
"Not a thing," Loudon replied, "an it's no use a-goin' out to the 88lookin' for Rudd. He's sloped. My fault he got away, too."
"That's tough, but it don't matter a heap. Yuh found the hosses an'three o' the thieves, anyway."
"Yeah, but they ain't enough. We'd ought to get 'em all, an' as far'sI can see there ain't no chance o' gettin' 'em all."
"Don't yuh care. What yuh've done suits me. I'm satisfied."
"I ain't," said Loudon, "but I s'pose I've got to be. It makes mesick! Lot o' work gone for nothin'. We grabbed the 88 range-boss onthe off-chance he'd chatter, but he won't say a word. He's tied up inJack Richie's storeroom right now."
"Blakely's range-boss, huh? Well, yuh can't hang him without proof,Tom."
"I know that. Got to turn him loose, o' course. Did yuh see anythin'o' Block or Blakely or that gang when yuh come through Farewell?"
"We didn't strike Farewell. We rode here the shortest way.Why--what's the matter?"
For Loudon had ripped out an amazed oath.
"Yore rope!" exclaimed Loudon. "Where did yuh get that rope?"
"Oh, Doubleday found it down by the little corral the mornin' after himan' the boys rode in from the Bend--after them hosses was stole."
"Why didn't yuh tell me about it then? That rope was all I needed.Say, Johnny, djever see this rope before?"
Loudon held up the end of the rope. The holdfast was missing, and theend had been lapped with many turns of whip-cord. Johnny squinted atthe rope's end. Jack Richie and the others crowded in.
"Yeah," said Johnny Ramsay, "now I think of it, you an' me was in MikeFlynn's store in Farewell when Sam Blakely bought him that rope withthe whip-cord on the end. That was the day you bought a green necktie.Shore, I remember. Blakely he asked Mike what that whip-cord was, an'Mike called it whippin'."
"That's what he did," declared Loudon. "I noticed this whippin' jiggerspecial, an' I can swear to it on a stack o' Bibles a mile high. It'sthe same rope all right enough."
Scotty observed that he would be consigned to everlasting damnation.Ropes, he had supposed, were all alike.
"I knowed that rope must 'a' belonged to one o' the rustlers," saidScotty, "but it was such a little thing that I'd forgot all about it bythe time you got back to the ranch, Tom. Blakely's rope! It's shoreamazin'."
"It sort o' settles the cat-hop, don't it?" said Loudon.
"Kind o'," Scotty said, his frosty blue eyes gleaming. "We'll wanderover to the 88 right away. I guess now we'll leave Marvin tied up yetawhile. We'll attend to him later. Can yuh give us fresh hosses,Jack?"
"Can I?" exclaimed Jack Richie. "Watch me. I guess me an' a few o'the boys will ride along with yuh. Just to see fair play like."
"Say, Scotty," Loudon said, while the fresh horses were being roped, "Ihope Pete O'Leary didn't see you an' the bunch leavin' the Bend."
"He didn't," replied Scotty. "O'Leary ain't with us no more--No, notthat way. He's alive yet so far as I know. But he pulled his freightsome sudden 'bout two weeks ago. Dunno why."
"Maybe we'll see his smilin' face again pretty soon," Loudon observed,significantly.
"Then here's hopin' it'll be in bad company," said Scotty Mackenzie.
An hour later the band, now numbering forty-two men, started for the 88ranch. They rode northwest, intending to pass through Farewell, for itwas quite possible that Brown Jug and the gray had been taken into town.
As they neared the town a rattle of shots came down the wind. With oneaccord the forty-two drove the spurs into their mounts.
At the top of the slight rise above the little town they halted. Thewindows of Bill Lainey's hotel and Piney Jackson's blacksmith shop werebanked in drifting smoke through which red tongues of flame flashed atintervals. From the cover of boulders, wagon-bodies, the hotel corral,and the Happy Heart Saloon, rule-working citizens were pouring leadinto the two places. Farther up the street several Winchesters in theBlue Pigeon Store were replying to the fire from the opposite housesand from a barn in the rear of the store.
"Sheriff Block an' his outfit are lockin' horns with some friends o'mine, I guess," observed Loudon.
"That ain't no way for a sheriff to act," said Scotty. "Let's go downan' tell him so. Friends o' Tom's, boys."
Loudon was already galloping down the slope. In his wake scatteredhoof-beats became a thuttering drum. Men whooping and yelling,wild-eyed horses straining every muscle, the charge swept down upon thebesiegers of Lainey's Hotel and Jackson's blacksmith shop.
The sheriff's friends broke like a covey of quail. The rifles in thehotel and blacksmith shop chattered like mad. Loudon headed toward thehotel corral to whose shelter two men had retreated. But there was noone there when he reached it.
He rode past the corral and galloped along the rear of the buildingsfronting on the street. Twice he was shot at, one bullet nicking hishorse's hip. But he contrived to reach the other end of the townunwounded, raced across the street, and dismounted behind the sheriff'scorral. His feet had barely touched the ground when Johnny Ramsay,Laguerre, and Chuck Morgan joined him.
"Yuh idjit!" cried Johnny. "Don't yuh know no better'n that? Don'tyuh suppose they can hit yuh at twenty yards? Yuh wasn't that far awayfrom the backs of them houses. Ain't yuh got no sense at all?"
"Well, they didn't hit me, an' I notice three other idjits didn't haveno better sense. Duck!"
Loudon jerked Johnny down just as a bullet gashed the side of a postabove his head. Johnny ceased talking and ran hurriedly to where ChuckMorgan was kneeling behind a corner of the corral. Loudon joinedLaguerre at the other corner.
The four were in an excellent position. The corral commanded the rearand one side of the sheriff's shack, the rear of the Happy HeartSaloon, and one side of the barn in the rear of the Blue Pigeon Store.
A man ran out of the barn. Laguerre's rifle crack
ed. The manstumbled, dropped, dragged himself to his hands and knees, and thenhuddled down slackly. Laguerre pumped in another cartridge. Thestaccato din at the other end of town was increasing. The heavy roarsof several buffalo guns punctuated the steady crackling of theWinchesters' whip-like reports. Loudon smiled a slow smile and cuddledhis rifle-butt against his shoulder. The world was coming his way atlast.
"That sheriff wouldn't 'a' built his corral so solid," observed Loudon,"if he'd looked ahead."
"You bet he wouldn'," said Laguerre. "Dees log ees fine. No bulletcome troo dem. Bimeby we geet Meestair Block, mebbeso."
"He may be down in the Happy Heart. There ain't been a shot from theshack yet. He's in town all right though. His hoss and seven othersare in the corral"--Loudon peered through a crack in the logs--"I can'tsee the brands. They're turned the wrong way."
"Dere ees a lot o' pony een dat corral down dere," said Laguerre.
"That's behind the Happy Heart Saloon. Lord help 'em if they try toslide out on 'em."
_Zing-g-g_! A bullet ricochetted from a near-by boulder and hummedabove Loudon's hat.
"That came from the barn," said Loudon, firing at a gray smoke-cloudhigh up on the side of the structure. "They've knocked a hole in aboard, I guess. Yep"--as the thinning smoke revealed a blackopening--"they have."
Shooting carefully and without haste, Loudon and Laguerre renderedfiring from that hole in the barn a case of suicide. From their cornerJohnny Ramsay and Chuck Morgan alternately drove questing bullets intothe barn and the rear of the Happy Heart Saloon.
The firing from the barn slackened. That from the Happy Heartredoubled in vigour. The glass window-sashes began to fall in tinklingrain on the ground.
"The boys must 'a' gotten into the houses across the street," saidLoudon. "They're a-firin' right through the saloon."
"She weel be dark een two hour," Laguerre remarked, irrelevantly.
"I know it. We'll have to finish up before then or they'll getaway.Plug any, Johnny?"
"One," was the laconic reply of that expert with a rifle.
"He didn't, neither!" denied Chuck Morgan. "I got him. Johnny wasloadin' his rifle at the time the feller cashed. Johnny couldn't hit aflock o' barn doors flyin' low--not with his rifle."
"Oh, couldn't I, huh?" yapped Johnny Ramsay. "Well, if I hadn't 'a'got him you'd be a-lyin' there right quiet an' peaceful with yore hatover yore face. I hit what I aim at. I ain't been shootin' holes inboards like some people."
At this juncture the door of the Happy Heart opened a crack, and Johnnyand Chuck forgot their argument at once. The door closed abruptly, thewood near the knob gashed and scarred by several bullets.
"This is gettin' monotonous," said Loudon. "I thought there'd beaction this side an' there ain't a bit. The barn has gone to sleep.I'm goin' into the sheriff's shack. I'll bet it's empty."
"Dey geet you from the barn, mabbeso," Laguerre suggested.
"No, they won't--not if yuh keep 'em away from that hole."
Loudon laid his rifle down, pulled his hat firmly over his ears, andraced toward the shack, jerking out his revolvers as he ran. Hereached the door of the shack without a shot having been fired at him.
Fully aware that death might be awaiting his entry, he drove hisshoulder against the door and burst it open. He sprang across thedoorsill and halted, balancing on the balls of his feet.
Save for the loud ticking of an alarm clock there was no sound in theshack. The door of the front room stood open. Through the doorwayLoudon glimpsed a broken chair, and beside it, where the floor sagged,a pool of blood. Loudon walked into the front room.
His eyes beheld a scene of the wildest disorder. There had been afierce fight in that front room. On his back on the floor, his legsunder the table, lay Sheriff Block, his black beard reddened with bloodfrom a wound in the cheek. One hand gripped the butt of a six-shooterand the other clutched the breast of his flannel shirt. There were twobullet-holes in the sheriff's chest.
Across the base of the closed front door lay the body of Rufe Cutting.He had been literally cut to pieces. Only his face was unmarked.Otherwise he was a ghastly object. From beneath his body oozy runletsof blood had centred in the pool beside the chair.
Propped up against the side wall, his legs outstretched, sat astranger. Blood spotted and stained the floor about him. He had beenshot in the legs and the chest. Across his knees lay a Winchester.Beside him a long knife, red from hilt to point, was stuck upright inthe floor. The stranger's chin was on his breast, a bloody frothflecked his lips. So positive was Loudon that the stranger was dead,that, when the man jerked his head upright, he jumped a full yardbackward. Weakly the wounded man plucked at his Winchester, his dulleyes fixed on Loudon. The latter ran to his side.
"It's all right, stranger," cried Loudon, "I'm a friend."
At this assurance the stranger ceased in his effort to raise his rifle.
"Water," he muttered, faintly, "water."
In a corner stood a bucket and a tin dipper. Loudon scooped up adipperful and held it to the man's lips. He drank chokingly, and halfthe water spilled out on his shirt.
"Stranger," muttered the wounded man, "I'm goin' away from here in ahurry. Pull off my boots, will yuh?"
Loudon complied with the request. The removal of the boots must havecruelly hurt the wounded legs, but the man did not even groan.
"That's better," muttered the man, when the boots were off. "I washopin' I wouldn't have to cash with 'em on. Who's yore friend?"
Loudon whirled, for his nerves were on edge, and Laguerre, who hadentered without a sound, only saved himself from death by a cat-likeleap to one side. As it was, Loudon's bullet missed him by the veriestfraction of an inch. Loudon shamefacedly holstered his weapon.
"My fault," said Laguerre, calmly. "Nex' time eet ees bes' I speakfirs', yes. Who ees de man?"
"I dunno. Who are yuh, stranger?"
"Did yuh kill him?" queried the stranger, his eyes beginning to filmover.
"No, he's a friend, too. Can't yuh tell yore name?"
"I'm Tom Hallaway," was the thickly uttered response. "Rufe Cuttingkilled my brother Jim an' stole his pinto hoss. Block was withCutting, an' helped him. I got 'em both. I said I'd cut Rufe's heartout--an' I sure--done it. Gimme a--drink."
But before the water came Tom Hallaway's head fell forward, and he died.
"Look here," said Laguerre, who had looked out of the window oppositeTom Hallaway.
Loudon went to the window. Beneath it two dead men were sprawled.Their stiffened fingers clutched six-shooters.
"They drilled him through the window," said Loudon, "an' he got 'emboth."
Laguerre nodded solemnly.
"Brave man, dat Tom Hallaway," said Telescope Laguerre.
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