Prairie Flowers

by James B. Hendryx

  CHAPTER XXIV

  "ALL FRIENDS TOGETHER"

  Old Bat, with Endicott following closely, led the way through thedarkness back along Timber City's main street. At the corner of thelivery stable he paused: "W'ere you hoss?"

  "Why, I--wait, I'll step across to the hotel and borrow one ofColston's." The half-breed nodded, and hurrying across the streetEndicott entered the office of the hostelry. His appearance was thesignal for a sudden awkward silence among the half-dozen men thatsprawled in the chairs or leaned against the cigar case. Endicott'sglance swept the faces of the men: "Where's Mr. Colston?" he asked.

  The man with the long moustache, the one who had informed him that theferry-boat still floated, opened a door that gave into the ramblinginterior: "Hey!" he called, loudly, "'s Y Bar went up?"

  From the region beyond came an answer and the moustached one turned toEndicott: "Yup, he's went up. Don't know what room's his'n, but jestholler when you git to the top of the stairs, he ain't got to sleepyet."

  At the head of the stairs Endicott paused, a light showed through thecrack at the bottom of a door, and he knocked. The door opened andColston, in undershirt and trousers, bade him enter.

  Endicott shook his head, "No I want to borrow a horse."

  "Goin' after 'em?" asked Colston. "Well, help yourself. The Y Bar horsesare yours, now. But if I was you I'd wait right here in Timber City. Aman that ain't used to the range will get lost at night before he's gonethree miles. The chances are you'll never reach the river--and what areyou going to do when you get there?"

  "I'm going to cross--somehow. I'm going to find my wife. As for gettinglost, Old Bat is going with me--or rather I'm going with him."

  "Bat! What's he doing here?"

  "Found out that the Texan had pulled out and came to get him. He knowsTex better than anyone knows him. He had guessed pretty accurately whatwas coming off here today, and he rode over to take the Texan backhome."

  Colston nodded: "Go ahead. If Old Bat starts on the trail you'll findyour wife." He laid a hand on Endicott's shoulder, "and just bear inmind that when you do find her, you'll find her all right! I, too, knowthe Texan. He's been more like--like a son to me than an employee. Theboy's got his faults--but he's a man! Barring the possibility of anaccident on the river, you'll find 'em safe an' sound--an', when you dofind 'em, mind you bring 'em both back. You're goin' to need Tex."

  Endicott nodded: "I'll remember," he said, "and when we return, you havethe papers ready, and we'll close the deal."

  While the barn dogs saddled Endicott's horse, Old Bat led the way to thealley between the livery barn and the saloon, and throwing himself uponhis belly, lighted matches and studied certain marks on the ground.Satisfied at length he regained his feet.

  "What are you hunting for?" Endicott asked.

  "Hoss tracks. Tex, she ain' got hee's own hoss. Me, A'm wan' know w'atkin' track A'm foller w'en we git 'cross de riv'."

  "How are we going to cross?" asked Endicott as they swung along thetrail at a brisk trot.

  "We ain' 'cross yet. Firs', we swing down de riv'. We comin' to deranch. Plent' ranch on dis side along de riv'. We git de boat."

  "But, the horses? We can't take the horses in the boat."

  "We com' w'ere we need de hoss we hont de ranch an' git mor' hoss."

  At the river they halted for a few moments before heading down stream,and Endicott shuddered as he gazed out over the drift-choked surface ofthe flood. Old Bat devined what was passing in his mind.

  "De riv', she look lak hell w'en you stan' an' see her go pas'. But sheain' so bad she look. W'en de boat git een de wattaire she ron so fas'lak de res', an' she 'bout de sam' lak she stan' still."

  "Yes--but the boat--the heavy ferry--they couldn't handle her in thewater."

  "Dey ain' got for han'l. De riv' she han'l. W'en de boat com' on deplac', w'at you call, de ben'--w'ere de riv' she mak' de turn, de boatshe gon git shov' on de bank. Mebbe-so dey don' gon on de bank, w'en dedaylight com' some wan see um an' com' in de boat an' tak' um off."

  Bat struck off down the river with Endicott following. After an hour'sride through the darkness they came to a ranch. Bat opened and closedthe wire gate and led the way along the winding wagon road to the house,a log affair, nestled in a deep coulee. A dog rushed from the darknessand set up a furious barking, dodging in and out among the legs of thehorses in a frenzy of excitement. A light appeared in the window and asthe two riders drew up before the door it opened, a man thrust his headout and swore at the dog. When the animal subsided he peered at thehorsemen: "Whut's up?" he growled surlily.

  "Have you a boat?" Endicott asked.

  "A boat! What the hell am I runnin', a cow outfit or a summer resort? Aboat! Er mebbe you think I fish fer a livin'? Mebbe I'm runnin' a ferry?Mebbe I want the hull damn country raisin' hell around here all night!No, I hain't got no boat! An' I never had none, an' don't want none!"The man's senseless anger seemed to increase as though the imputationthat he might have owned a boat were in some way an insult. "What thehell would I want of a boat?" his voice rose almost to a scream, and heshook his fist almost in Bat's face.

  The old half-breed leaned slightly forward in the saddle: "W'at de hell!W'at de hell! W'at de hell you wan' wit de ponch on de nose--but you gitwan jes' de sam'!" As he spoke, his fist shot out and landed squarely inthe man's face, and as he staggered back into the cabin, the half-breedput spurs to his horse and the two rode swiftly into the dark. "Dat doum good--mebbe-so nex' tam som' wan com' 'long he ain' stan' an' holler'W'at de hell! W'at de hell!' so mooch."

  A boat was procured at the fourth ranch, and turning the horses into thecorral, the two pushed out into the river. Daylight was beginning tobreak and, keeping close in, they scanned the shore eagerly for sign ofLong Bill's ferry. Hour after hour they drifted, Endicott overrulingBat's suggestion that they stop for food. It was sometime after noonthat the half-breed stood up and pointed toward the other side. "A'mt'ink mebbe-so de boat on de odder side. 'Long tam A'm watch de drift.De heavy stuff--de tree an' de beeg log, dey mos' all on odder side. A'mt'ink dat better we cross. A'm t'ink dat boat lan' befor' dis--we com'pas' it."

  "But how are we ever going to buck this current? If we've past it we'llhave to go up stream to find it."

  "We hont de ranch an' git de hoss an' ride 'long de edge."

  "But, suppose they haven't landed? Suppose they've drifted on down?"

  The half-breed shrugged: "S'pose dey gon' on down--we can't ketch um.Dey got de beeg start. De riv' she car' de ferry joost so fas' lak shecar' de leetle boat. S'pose dey gon' too far for ride back, dey com'back on train. But, me--A'm t'ink dey lan' befor' dis. We com' boutfeefty mile. You fol' Ol' Bat--we fin' um."

  The half-breed, who more than once that day had proven himself morewilling than proficient with the oars, surrendered them to Endicott andfor more than an hour the Easterner battled with the yellow, turgidflood before he finally succeeded in driving the boat ashore in themouth of a coulee. Abandoning the boat, they struck out on foot up riverwhere, a mile or more above they had passed fences. When they finallylocated the ranch house Endicott was near to exhaustion.

  It was mid-afternoon and he had eaten nothing since the night before,every muscle in his body ached from his labor at the oars, and the skinof his feet was rubbed raw by the grind of the high-heeled boots. Thepeople at the ranch knew nothing of the wrecked ferry, the men holdingwith Bat, that the chances were it had grounded far above. Decliningtheir invitation to remain over till morning, Endicott procured horsesand an ample supply of food and, with the hearty approval of Old Bat,the two struck out up the river.

  "He said it was nearly seventy miles to Long Bill Kearney's ferrycrossing and only three ranches between," said Endicott as the horseslaboured out of a deep coulee, "and if anything's happened to theirhorses and they haven't struck one of those ranches, they're going to bein a bad way."

  "Dem all right. Dat Tex, she got de gun, she shoot de jack-rabbit, deleetle owl, mebbe-so de deer--dey ain' gon' hu
ngry w'ile he got de gun."

  It was slow work exploring the margin of the flood. The late darknessovertook them with scarcely twenty miles of the distance covered, andthey camped on the top of a high bluff where they built up a huge firevisible for many miles up and down the river. Daylight found them oncemore in the saddle, exploring the mouths of coulees and scouring everyfoot of the scrub-bordered bank. It was nearly noon when, from the edgeof a high cliff that overlooked the river, they caught sight of theabandoned ferry-boat. The crest of the rise of water had passed in thenight and the boat lay with one corner fast aground. Putting spurs tothe horses they raced back from the river until they reached a pointthat gave access to the coulee. The keen eyes of the half-breed pickedup the tracks at the bottom of the ravine even before the horses hadcompleted the decent, and it was with difficulty that he restrained theimpatient Endicott from plunging down the ravine at the imminent risk ofdestroying the sign. Picketing the horses beside the trail the twoproceeded on foot, Old Bat in the lead, bent slightly forward with hiseyes darting this way and that, studying each minutest detail of thedisturbed ground. Following closely, Endicott hung on each word andgrunt and fragmentary observation of the old Indian. In vain he pliedBat with eager questions but he might as well have sought informationfrom the sphinx. The old man paid him not the slightest attention butproceeded on down the coulee pausing and staring at the sign for a fullminute at a time, again almost running with his eyes fixed on the grounduntil brought up again, frowning and muttering by some new bafflingcombination of tracks. After what seemed an interminable length of timethey reached the mouth of the coulee where Endicott sank wearily ontothe end of the water-logged boat and watched the half-breed work backand forth, back and forth, over the little strip of beach. Endicott hadlong ceased to ask questions and when at last, Bat straightened up,removed his hat, and wiped the sweat from his forehead upon the sleeveof his faded shirt, the information he conveyed was voluntary: "I ain'quite mak' it out. Firs' t'ing dey lan' here Tex, she ain' got on deboots. De 'oman she sleep--mebbe-so w'at you call, knock out. Tex car'her an' lay her on de grass w'ere she leetle bit flat," he paused andpointed to a spot that looked no whit different from any other spot ofgrass to Endicott's untrained eyes. "Only wan hoss lan'--dat PowderFace, an' ron lak hell up de coulee. Tex, she gon' up de coulee an'by'm'by he put on de boots an' climb oop on de bench. After w'ile com'sa man on a hoss off de bench. He ketch oop Powder Face an' com' downhere an' git de 'oman an' ride off--he lif her oop an' tie her on desaddle an' ride off leadin' Powder Face. By'm'by Tex com' long on beeghoss an' nodder man on leetle hoss. Tex git off an' look roun' an' fin'de 'oman gon'--he joomp on de hoss an ride lak hell after de man an' de'oman."

  Endicott was staring, white-lipped into the half-breed's face. He leapedup and seized the man's arm roughly. "Did he catch them?" he cried.

  Bat shook his head: "_Non_--not yet. We fol' 'long on de trail--we fin'dat out. Com' we git de hoss."

  "But, maybe it was Tex who got here first and rode away with her," criedEndicott as they hastened toward the picketed horses. "Surely you can'ttell from those tracks----"

  The other interrupted him: "_Oui!_ De track don't lie. Ol' Bat, she know'bout dat. Me--A'm know Tex track an' when she tromp 'roun' she shov' demud on de odder man track--eef de odder track ain' dere firs' how inhell Tex kin shov' de mud on it?"

  "And this happened yesterday! Oh, Alice! Alice!" The man's voice brokeon the name, and glancing into his face, Bat saw that it glistened wetwith the sweat of torture.

  As they mounted he offered a word of advice and encouragement: "Datbetter you ain' los' de, w'at you call, de guts. Mebbe-so you 'oman allright. We fin' um safe on som' ranch house."

  The trail of the four horses was so plain that even Endicott found nodifficulty in following it across the bench. Bat struck into a steadytrot which was maintained till he pulled up sharply at a point where thetrail dimmed to nothing upon the hard lava rock of the bad lands. Thehalf-breed studied the ground: "De leetle hoss turn back," he announced,"Tex, she gon' on in. He los' de trail, now--he ain' kin pick it oop inhere--he ain' Injun. He', w'at you call, goin' it blin'."

  Unhesitatingly the old half-breed followed along a ridge and dropped offinto a coulee. He rode slowly, now, with his eyes on the hard rockyground. Several times he dismounted and Endicott's heart sank as hewatched him search, sometimes upon hands and knees. But always the oldman straightened up with a grunt of satisfaction and mounting proceededconfidently upon his course, although try as he would, Endicott coulddiscern no slightest mark or scratch that would indicate that anyone hadpassed that way. "Are you really following a trail?" he asked, atlength, as the Indian headed up a coulee whose wind-swept floor wasalmost solid rock.

  The old man smiled: "_Oui_, A'm fol' de trail, all right. Two hoss,shod, mak' good trail for Injun. Eef dey swim een de wattaire lak defeesh, eef dey fly een de air lak de bird, Ol' Bat he no kin pick oop detrail--but, by Goss! Eef dey walk, or ron, or stan' still dey got tomak' de sign on de groun' an' me--A'm fin' dat out--" The words died inhis throat as he jerked his horse to a stand. From behind a projectingshoulder of rock a man stepped directly into their path.

  "Stick 'em up!" The command rang with a metallic hardness in therock-walled coulee, and Bat's hands flew upward. From the rear Endicottsaw that the man who barred the way was squat, bow-legged, and bearded,and that he held a gun in either hand. For one sickening instant hethought of Alice in the power of this man, and reckless of consequences,he forced his horse to the fore. "Damn you!" he cried leaning forward inthe saddle, "where's my wife?"

  Old Bat cried out a warning, and then stared in surprise at the man onthe ground who was returning his guns to their holsters, and grinning ashe did it.

  "Damn me, where's your wife?" repeated the man, "ain't that a kind of arough way, pardner, to ask a question of a stranger? Or mebbe you'rejest na'chelly rough, an' can't help it." The metallic hardness was gonefrom the voice. Endicott noticed that a tuft of hair stuck through ahole in the crown of the man's hat, and that upon close inspection thebearded face had lost its look of villainy.

  "But--my wife!" he persisted, "you brought her here! She----"

  "Not me," interrupted the man, "I didn't bring her nowheres. An' besidesshe ain't here."

  "Where is she? And who did bring her! Speak up, man!"

  "She's safe enough. You don't need to worry about her. She's over toCinnabar Joe's ranch on Red Sand. Purdy took her there yesterday."

  "Purdy!" shouted Endicott, "do you mean the Purdy that----"

  "Yup," interrupted the other, "the Purdy that you took a shot at a yearago an' creased. Why in hell couldn't you of shot a half an inch lowerthat night?"

  "How do you know she's safe?" cried Endicott. "How do you know he evertook her there? I wouldn't trust Purdy out of my sight!"

  "You an' me both," grinned the man, "an', I didn't. I trailed along fromthe time they hit the bad lands till he delivered her at the ranch. He'safter the reward an' he had to keep her safe."

  "But the people at the ranch--this Cinnabar Joe?"

  "Ace high all around--the breed, there, he knows 'em."

  "How did Purdy know about the reward?"

  "Long Bill Kearney, he brung the bills along."

  "Long Bill! He's another fine specimen! She's not safe as long as thosetwo scoundrels are at large. Where are they now? And where's Tex?"

  "Well, Long Bill, he's quite a piece away from the bad lands by now. I'spect he wishes he was back--but he won't come back. An' Purdy, he'sprob'ly wishin', by now, that he'd listened to me. God knows, I tried tomake a horse-thief out of him, but it wasn't no use--he's crooked. An'Tex, he's busy an' don't want to be disturbed."

  "Busy?"

  "Yup. Busy killin' some folks--Purdy an' some others. I wanted he shouldlet me an' Bill Harlow go 'long an' help--but he wouldn't. Said hewanted to settle with Purdy hisself."

  "Who are you?"

  "Me? I'm Cass Grimshaw."

  "Ha!" cried Bat, climbing fro
m the saddle, "A'm lak A'm shake you han'.A'm know 'bout you. You de bes' hoss-t'ief in Montana, _sacre_! Me--A'mBatiste Xavier Jean Jacques de Beaumont Lajune----"

  "Is that one word--or several?" grinned Grimshaw. "An' as long as westarted in passin' poseys back an' forth, I've heard tell of both of youbirds. You're Tex's side kick an' your regular name's Bat, ain't it? An'this here's the pilgrim that nicked Purdy over in Wolf River an' thencussed out the lynchin' party to their face, thereby displayin' a set ofred guts that was entirely onlooked for in a pilgrim. So, bein' as we'reall friends together, let's hit it out an' see how Tex is makin' it."He turned to Endicott, "Onless you'd ruther hit fer Cinnabar Joe's?"

  Endicott shook his head: "No! If my wife is safe, my place is right herebeside Tex. This is my fight as much as it is his--more so, for it's onher account he's after Purdy."

  "That's what I call a man!" exclaimed Grimshaw extending a hand whichEndicott shook heartily. "Here's a gun--but let me slip you the word tolay off Purdy. Nick away at the others, there's three more of 'em--orwas--but Tex he wants Purdy. Of course if anything should happen toTex--that lets us in. We'll pick up Bill Harlow on the way. Come on,let's ride!"

  And as they rode, Endicott smiled grimly to himself. A horse-thief, ahalf-breed, and he, Winthrop Adams Endicott, "all friends together." Andin this friendship he suddenly realized he felt nothing but pride. Thefeel of his galloping horse was good. He raised his eyes to the purpledpeaks of the distant Bear Paws, and as he filled his lungs to theirdepths with the keen, clean air his knees tightened upon his saddle, hisfingers involuntarily closed about the butt of the gun that protrudedfrom the waistband of his corduroy trousers. "All friends together," hemuttered, and again he smiled--grimly.