CHAPTER XXV
JANET PAYS A CALL
Janet McWhorter rose early upon the morning following her talk with theTexan. Dressing hurriedly, she blew out her candle and hastened to thedoor. Toward the east the coulee rim showed dimly against the firstfaint blush of dawn. She wondered if the Texan still slept and whethershe ought not to waken him and ask him to breakfast. As she stood in thedoorway, man and horse emerged from the stable. She withdrew into theblackness of the room and in the dim light of the unborn day watched himmount. She saw the big roan try to sink his head. Noted the ease withwhich the man foiled the attempt. Heard the sound of his voice as hespoke to the unruly horse as one would speak to a mischievous child.Then, horse and rider disappeared in the darkness of the valley. Thegirl stood there in the darkness until the sound of hoof-beats diedaway. There was a certain rugged grimness in the scene. It was like themoving finger of fate--this silent horseman riding away into the dawn.Her lips moved: "I wish you--luck!" she breathed, "even if--even if--"She stepped from the cabin and glanced up at the paling stars. "Oh, Iknow!" she exclaimed, bitterly, "I saw it in his eye when I mentionedthe reward. It isn't the reward he wants--it's _her_!" Hastening to thewoodpile, she gathered kindlings and returned to the house and preparedher father's breakfast.
Neither by word or look did McWhorter refer to the conversation of theevening before. The meal concluded he betook himself to thelambing-camp. Left alone, Janet washed and put away the dishes, tidiedup the cabin, fed her orphan lambs, and looked after the little"hospital band" of sheep. Then she pitched a forkful of hay into thecorral for the bay mare and returned to the cabin. Picking up amagazine, she threw herself into a chair and vainly endeavoured tointerest herself in its contents. Ten minutes later she flung themagazine onto the table and, hastening into her own room, dressed for aride. Stepping to the wall she removed a six-gun and a belt ofcartridges from a peg and buckled the belt about her waist. Drawing thegun from its holster, she examined it critically. Her thoughts were ofPurdy, now, and she shuddered: "I must never be without this--afteryesterday." She stepped to the door of the cabin and glanced about her."He said the next time it will be his turn--well, we'll see." An emptytomato can lay on its side, its red label flapping in the breeze.Levelling the gun the girl fired and the tomato can went spinning overthe short-cropped buffalo grass. And without stopping it kept onspinning as she continued to shoot, until with the last shot it came torest, a ripped and battered thing a hundred feet away. "Maybe it will behis turn--and maybe not," she muttered grimly. "He's the one person inthe world I could kill." She cleaned the gun, reloaded it, and walkingto the corral, saddled the bay mare.
Cinnabar Joe sat in the doorway of his unfinished stable and squinteddown the barrel of a high-power rifle. A six-shooter lay beside him onthe sill, cleaned and oiled and loaded. "Shines like a lookin' glass,"he observed, and throwing the gun to his shoulder, sighted at a roundedrock that protruded from a cutbank a quarter of a mile away. "If thathad of be'n Purdy's head, an' I'd of pulled the trigger--there wouldn'tof be'n no more Purdy," he grinned. "He better not stick his nose inthis here valley," he muttered, "but, at that, I'd ruther be out therehuntin' him."
From beyond the stable came the sound of galloping hoofs. Dropping therifle, Cinnabar reached for his six-gun and whirled to meet the laughinggaze of Janet McWhorter. "Why, what's the matter? You look as though youwanted to kill me!"
The man summoned a grin: "Nerves, I guess. Don't mind me. Be'n smokin'too much, maybe."
"What's all the artillery for? You look as though you were going tostart a war."
"Maybe I am. But speakin' of artillery, you're pretty well heeledyourself. Coyotes be'n killin' lambs?"
"Yes, the worst coyote on the range killed one of them yesterday andthen offered to pay for it. I mean your friend Purdy."
"_My_ friend Purdy!"
"Yes--your friend, and Dad's friend, too. If you men wouldn't toleratesuch characters around--if you'd try to clean them out of the countryinstead of doing everything in your power to make it easy for them, theywould soon be wiped out."
"But, we'd git wiped out first--an' besides they ain't all like Purdy."
"They're all criminals. They all ought to be in prison."
Cinnabar shook his head: "No, there's plenty of criminals that hadn'tought to be in prison: an' there's plenty of folks that ain't criminalsthat had ought to be in prison. Trouble is--the gauge ain't right thatthey measure 'em with."
"All men talk alike," sniffed Janet, "where's Jennie?"
"In the house, feedin' a woman the first square meal she's et in theLord knows when."
"Woman! What woman?"
"I never seen her before. Jennie says she's the pilgrim's wife--fellowname of Henderson, or Kottmeyer, or some such a name. About a year back,in Wolf River he took a shot at Purdy, an' come near gittin' him, 'causePurdy had toled her out fer a ride an' then drug her off herhorse--they wasn't married then."
"Is she--all right?"
"All right? Yes, I guess she's all right, now. She slep' most ofyesterday afternoon, an' all night."
"What are you going to do with her?"
Cinnabar's lips tightened: "When she's able to travel, we're goin' togit her back to her folks."
"And claim the reward?"
"Reward?"
"Yes, didn't you know that there is a reward of a thousand dollars forinformation concerning her?"
Cinnabar shook his head: "No. I didn't know that. No. We won't beclaimin' no reward. So, that's his game, is it?"
Janet swung from the saddle: "That isn't his game," she said, "I thoughtit was, at first. But, do you know, I believe he really loves her."
Cinnabar stared open mouthed: "Loves her!" he roared, when he could findhis voice. "That damn snake couldn't love no one!"
The girl's face went a shade paler: "You know him?" she asked.
"Know him! You bet I know him! I know he's the orneriest livin' whiteman! They ain't nothin' he wouldn't do--onless it was somethin' decent!"
"And yet--I can hardly believe it. There's something about himso--wholesome--so clean--and he has really fine eyes."
Cinnabar Joe placed his hands on his hips and stared at the girl inastonishment. "You ain't be'n into old Mac's bottle, have you?" heasked, at length. "Wholesome! Clean! Fine eyes! Why, he's the slimiest,dirtiest, evil-eyedest lookin' scoundrel that ever draw'd breath!"
Janet winced at the words: "When did he bring her here?" she asked aftera moment of silence.
"Yesterday afternoon."
"Yesterday afternoon! Why, he--told me last night that he hadn't foundher!"
"You ain't none surprised that he'd lie, be you?"
Janet nodded thoughtfully: "Yes, I am," she answered. "He didn't looklike he was lying. Oh, there must be some mistake! Did you know himbefore he worked on the Y Bar?"
"Y Bar!" Cinnabar laughed, "that bird never seen the Y Bar onless he'sbe'n tryin' to run off some Y Bar horses."
"Run off horses! Is he a horse-thief, too?"
Cinnabar waved his arms in despair: "Oh, no," he asserted, emphasizingthe ponderous sarcasm of his words with a dolorous shaking of the head,"he ain't no horse-thief. He's--judge of the supreme court. An' thereason he lives in the bad lands is because all the judges of thesupreme court lives in the bad lands."
The girl interrupted him: "Don't try to be facetious. You do it badly.But the fact is, he don't live in the bad lands, he don't look like ahorse-thief, he don't act like a horse-thief--and I don't believe he isa horse-thief--so there! When he struck out this morning on Purdy'strail----"
"On Purdy's trail!" Cinnabar fairly shouted the words. "Who's on who'strail? What's all this mixup about? Purdy ain't no horse-thief! He's awet nurse in a orphan asylum! He's clean lookin' an' wholesome. Hewouldn't lie!"
"Purdy!" exclaimed Janet, "have you been talking about Purdy all thistime?"
A sudden gleam of comprehension shot from Cinnabar's eyes: "Who did youthink I was talkin' about," he grinned, "the Gazookus of
Timbucktoo?"
The girl broke into a peal of silvery laughter. A weight seemed suddenlyto have been lifted from her heart--a weight that had borne heavier andheavier with the words of Cinnabar Joe. There was a chance that herTexan would prove to be the man she wanted him to be--the man she hadpictured him during the long hours of the previous afternoon when alonein the cabin her thoughts had reverted again and again to the parting atthe edge of the bad lands--the touch of his hand on her arm, the strong,firm grip of his fingers, and the strange rapturous something that hadleaped from his eyes straight into her heart. But, all that was beforeshe had known of--the other woman. The laughter died from her lips, andher eyes narrowed slightly. Cinnabar Joe was speaking:
"An' I suppose you've be'n talkin' about Tex Benton. She told Jennie hewas on Purdy's trail."
"How did she know?"
"Search me. Jest naturally know'd that if he wasn't dead, that's whathe'd be doin', I guess. How'd Purdy git holt of her, anyway?"
"This woman and Tex were washed ashore when the ferry broke its cable,and while Tex was trying to get some horses, Purdy came along and foundher."
"Where's the pilgrim?"
Janet shrugged: "Oh, he don't count. He's merely the wronged husband."
Cinnabar looked straight into her eyes: "Know Tex?" he asked, drily.
"I've seen him. He borrowed Blue, and he spent last night at the ranch."
"Well, then, believe me, you've seen some man! An' don't you go makin'no more mistakes like you jest made. If them two was together they had aright to be. An' they'll come clean with a good reason. They's somethings a _man_ won't do--an' runnin' off with another man's wife is oneof 'em."
"Do you know him?" There was more than a trace of eagerness in thegirl's voice.
"I'll say I know him! An' I'm tellin' it to you, sister, if he's onPurdy's trail, I'd rather be in hell with my back broke than be inPurdy's shoes right now."
The girl turned abruptly and walked toward the house, and as Cinnabarfollowed her with his eyes, he smiled: "If them two could only hit itout--she'd make a fine woman fer him. By Gosh! With a woman like that tokind of steady him down, Tex could be a big man in these parts--he's gotthe guts, an' he's got the aggucation, an' so's she. I misdoubt he'dmarry into no sheep outfit though, at that."
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