Partners of Chance

by Henry Herbert Knibbs

  CHAPTER XIX

  DORRY COMES TO TOWN

  At six, next morning, Bartley and Scott were on their way to SanAndreas, Bartley riding Dobe and Scott hazing two pack-burros. They tooka hill trail, which, Scott explained, was shorter by miles than thevalley road which Cheyenne and Bartley had taken to the gulch. Cheyennewas forced to stay at the miner's cabin until Scott returned with thepack-saddle and outfit left in the livery. Scott was after supplies andtobacco.

  At first Cheyenne had thought of going along with them. But hereconsidered. He did not care to risk being arrested in San Andreas forhaving disturbed the peace. If the authorities should happen to detainhim, there would be one broken head, one broken lamp, and possibly fiveor six witnesses as evidence that he had been the aggressor in thesaloon. Sneed and his men would swear to anything, and the owner of thesaloon would add his bit of evidence. Bartley himself was liable toarrest for assault and battery should Hull lodge a complaint againsthim. Incidentally, Hull had been found by the stableman, curiously ropedand tied and his lower jaw somewhat out of plumb.

  Bartley and Scott arrived in San Andreas about noon, saw to their stockand had dinner together. Bartley engaged a room at the hotel. Scottbought supplies. Then, unknown to Bartley, Scott hunted up the townmarshal and told him that the Easterner was a friend of his. The townmarshal took the hint. Scott assured the marshal that, if Sneed or hismen made any trouble in San Andreas, he would gladly come over and helpthe marshal establish peace. Cheyenne's name was not mentioned.

  An hour later Scott appeared in front of the hotel with his burrospacked. Bartley, loafing on the veranda, rose and stepped out.

  "If you got time," said Scott, "you might walk along with me, out to theedge of town."

  Bartley wondered what Scott had in mind, but he agreed to the suggestionat once.

  Together they trudged through the sleepy town until they reached theopen.

  "I guess you can find your way back," said Scott, his eyes twinkling."And, say, it's a good idea not to pack a shootin'-iron--and let folksknow you don't pack one."

  "I think I understand," said Bartley.

  "Ride over to my camp, any time, and if I'm not there, just makeyourself to home." And the big miner turned and started his burrostoward the hills.

  "Give my regards to Cheyenne," called Bartley.

  The miner nodded.

  On his way back through town, Bartley wondered why the miner had askedhim to take that walk. Then suddenly he thought of a reason. They hadbeen seen in San Andreas, walking and talking together. That wouldintimate that they were friends. And a man would have to be blind, notto realize that it would be a mistake to pick a quarrel with Scott, orone of his friends. Joe Scott never quarreled; but he had the reputationof being a man of whom it was safe to step around.

  With his sleeves rolled up, sitting in the quiet of his room, Bartleyspent the afternoon jotting down notes for a story. He thought he hadexperienced enough adventure to make a good beginning. Of course, thelove element was lacking, yet he thought that might be supplied, later.He had a heroine in mind. Bartley laid down his pencil, and sat back,shaping daydreams. It was hot in the room. It would be cooler down onthe veranda. Well, he would finish his rough sketch of Cheyenne, andthen step down to the veranda. He caught himself drowsing over his work.He sat up, scribbled a while, nodded sleepily, and, finally, with hishead on his arms, he fell asleep.

  The rattle of wagon wheels wakened him. A ranch team had just pulled upto the hitch-rail in front of the hotel and a small boy was tying thehorses. The boy's hat seemed familiar to Bartley. Then Bartley heard avoice. Suddenly he was wide awake. Little Jim was down there, talking tosome one. Bartley rose and peered down. Little Jim's companion wasDorothy. Bartley could not see her face, because of her wide hat-brim.Stepping back into the room, Bartley picked up his pencil and, leaningout of the window, started it rolling down the gentle slope of theveranda roof. It dropped at Dorothy's feet. She started and glanced up.Bartley waved a greeting and disappeared from the window.

  Decently clothed, and, imagining that he was in his right mind, hehastened downstairs.

  Little Jim expressed no surprise at seeing Bartley, but the youngster'seyes were eager.

  He shook hands, like a grown-up. "Got that twenty-two, yet?"

  "Haven't seen one, Jimmy. But I won't forget."

  "There's a brand-new twenty-two over to Hodges' store, in the window,"declared Little Jim.

  "That so? Then we'll have to walk over and look at it."

  "I done _looked_ at it already," said Little Jim.

  "Well, then, let's go and price it."

  "I done priced it. It's twelve-fifty."

  "Well, what do you say to going over and buying it?"

  "Sure! Is dad gone?"

  "Yes. He left here last night. I thought Miss Gray was with you," saidBartley.

  "Sure! She had to come to town to buy some things. She's over to Hodges'now."

  Dorothy had not waited for him to appear. Bartley was a bit piqued. Buthe asked himself why should he be? They were the merest acquaintances.True, they had spent several hours together, reading and discussingverse. But no doubt that had been purely impersonal, on her part. WithLittle Jim as his guide, Bartley entered Hodges' general store. Dorothywas at the back of the store making purchases. Bartley watched her amoment. He felt a tug at his sleeve.

  "The guns is over on this side," declared Little Jim.

  "We'll have to wait until Mr. Hodges gets through waiting on Miss Gray,"said Bartley.

  Little Jim scampered across the aisle and stood on tiptoe peering into ashowcase. There were pistols, cheap watches, and a pair of spurs.

  Little Jim gazed a moment and then shot over to Dorothy. "Say, Dorry,can't you hurry up? Me and Mr. Bartley are waitin' to look at thattwenty-two in the window."

  "Now, Jimmy! Oh, how do you do!" And Dorothy greeted Bartley withconsiderable poise for a young woman who was as interested in theEasterner as she was.

  "Don't let us interrupt you," said Bartley. "Our business can wait."

  Little Jim scowled, and grimaced at Dorothy, who excused herself toBartley and went on making her purchases. They were really insignificantpurchases--some pins, some thread, and a roll of binding tape.Insignificant as they were, Bartley offered to carry them to the wagonfor her. Dorothy declined his offer and took them to the wagon herself.

  "Now for that rifle," said Bartley.

  Little Jim, itching all over to get hold of that new and shining weapon,squirmed as Hodges took it from the window and handed it to Bartley.Bartley examined it and passed it over to Little Jim.

  "Is that the kind you wanted?" he asked.

  "This is her! Twenty-two, long or short, genuwine repeater." Jimmypretended to read the tags tied to the trigger guard. "Yep! This isher."

  "And some cartridges," suggested Bartley.

  "How many?" queried the storekeeper.

  "All you got," said Little Jim.

  But Bartley's good nature was not to be imposed upon to that extent."Give us five boxes, Mr. Hodges."

  "That cleans me out of twenty-twos," declared Hodges.

  Jimmy grinned triumphantly. Dorothy had come in and was viewing thepurchase with some apprehension. She knew Little Jim.

  Bearing the rifle proudly, Jimmy marched from the store. Dorothy andBartley followed him, and Bartley briefly outlined Cheyenne's recentsprightly exodus from San Andreas.

  "I heard about it, from Mr. Hodges," said Dorothy. "And I also noticedthat you have hurt your hand."

  Bartley glanced at his right hand--and then at Dorothy, who was gazingat him curiously. It had become common news in town that CheyenneHastings and the Easterner had engaged in a free-for-all fight with theSneed outfit, and that two of the Sneed boys were laid up for repairs.That was Mr. Hodges' version.

  "I also heard that you had left town," said Dorothy.

  Bartley's egoism was slightly deflated. Then Dorothy had come to town tobuy a few trinkets, and not to find out how it
fared with him.

  "We have to get back before dark," she declared.

  "And you got to drive," said Little Jim. "I want to try my new gun!"

  "Did you thank Mr. Bartley for the gun?"

  Little Jim admitted that he had forgotten to do so. He stuck out hissmall hand. "Thanks, pardner," he said heartily.

  Bartley laughed and patted Jimmy's shoulder--something that Jimmyutterly detested, but suffered nobly, under the circumstances.

  "You earned that gun--and thank you for fetching Miss Dorry to town."

  "Huh! I didn't fetch _her_. She fetched me. Uncle Frank was comin', butDorry said she just had to get some things--"

  "Jimmy, please don't point that gun at the horses."

  Bartley felt better. He didn't know just why he felt better. Yet he feltmore than grateful to Little Jim.

  Nevertheless, Dorothy met Bartley's eyes frankly as he said farewell. "Ihope you will find time to ride over to the ranch," she said. "I'm sureAunt Jane would be glad to see you."

  "Thanks. Say, day after to-morrow?"

  "Oh, it doesn't matter. Aunt Jane is nearly always at home."

  "And I got lots of ca'tridges," chirruped Little Jim. "We can shoot allday."

  "I wouldn't miss such an opportunity for anything," declared Bartley,yet he was looking at Dorothy when he spoke.