75CHAPTER VI“HANDS UP”
Melissy had been up the Cañ del Oro for wild poppies in her runabout and had just reached the ranch. She was disposing of her flowers in ollas when Jim Budd, waiter, chambermaid, and odd jobs man at the Bar Double G, appeared in the hall with a frightened, mysterious face.
“What’s the matter, Jim? You and Hop Ling been quarrelling again?” she asked carelessly.
“No’m, that ain’t it. It’s wusser’n that. I got to tell you-all su’thin’ I hearn yore paw say.”
The girl looked up quickly at him. “What do you mean, Jim?”
“That Mistah Norris he come back whilst you wus away, and him and yore paw wus in that back room a-talkin’ mighty confidential.”
“Yes, and you listened. Well?”
Jim swelled with offended dignity. “No’m, I didn’t listen neither. I des natcherally hearn, ’count of that hole fer the stovepipe what comes through the floor of my room.”
“But what was it you heard?” she interrupted impatiently.76
“I wus a-comin’ to that. Plum proverdenshul, I draps into my room des as yore paw wus sayin’, ’Twenty thousand dollars goin’ down to the Fort on the stage to-day?’ ’Cose I pricks up my ears then and tuk it all in. This yere Norris had foun’ out that Mistah Morse was shippin’ gold from his mine to-day on the Fort Allison stage, and he gits yore paw to go in with him an’ hold it up. Yore paw cussed and said as how ’t wus his gold anyhow by rights.”
The girl went white and gave a little broken cry. “Oh, Jim! Are you sure?”
“Yas’m, ’cose I’m suah. Them’s his ve’y words. Hope to die if they ain’t. They wus drinkin’, and when ’t wus all fixed up that ’t wus to be at the mouth of the Box Cañon they done tore an old black shirt you got for a dust-rag and made masks out of it and then rode away.”
“Which way did they go?”
“Tow’ds the Box Cañon Miss M’lissy.”
A slender, pallid figure of despair, she leaned against the wall to support the faintness that had so suddenly stolen the strength from her limbs, trying desperately to think of some way to save her father from this madness. She was sure he would bungle it and be caught eventually, and she was equally sure he would never let himself be taken alive. Her helplessness groped for some way out. There must be some road of escape from this horrible77situation, and as she sought blindly for it the path opened before her.
“Where is Hop?” she asked quickly.
“A-sleepin’ in his room, ma’am.”
“Go to the store and tend it till I come back, Jim. I may be an hour, or mebbe two, but don’t you move out of it for a moment. And don’t ever speak of any of this, not a word, Jim.”
“No’m, ’cose I won’t.”
His loyalty she did not doubt an instant, though she knew his simple wits might easily be led to indiscretion. But she did not stay to say more now, but flew upstairs to the room that had been her brother’s before he left home. Scarce five minutes elapsed before she reappeared transformed. It was a slim youth garbed as a cowpuncher that now slipped along the passage to the rear, softly opened the door of the cook’s room, noiselessly abstracted the key, closed the door again as gently, and locked it from the outside. She ran into her own room, strapped on her revolver belt, and took her empty rifle from its case. As she ran through the room below the one Jim occupied, she caught sight of a black rag thrown carelessly into the fireplace and stuffed it into her pocket.
“That’s just like Dad to leave evidence lying around,” she said to herself, for even in the anxiety that was flooding her she kept her quiet commonsense.
After searching the horizon carefully to see that78nobody was in sight, she got into the rig and drove round the corral to the irrigating ditch. This was a wide lateral of the main canal, used to supply the whole lower valley with water, and just now it was empty. Melissy drove down into its sandy bed and followed its course as rapidly as she could. If she were only in time! If the stage had not yet passed! That was her only fear, the dread of being too late. Not once did the risk of the thing she intended occur to her. Physical fear had never been part of her. She had done the things her brother Dick had done. She was a reckless rider, a good shot, could tramp the hills or follow the round-up all day without knowing fatigue. If her flesh still held its girlish curves and softness, the muscles underneath were firm and compact. Often for her own amusement and that of her father she had donned her brother’s chaps, his spurs, sombrero, and other paraphernalia, to masquerade about the house in them. She had learned to imitate the long roll of the vaquero’s stride, the mannerisms common to his class, and even the heavy voice of a man. More than once she had passed muster as a young man in the shapeless garments she was now wearing. She felt confident that the very audacity of the thing would carry it off. There would be a guard for the treasure box, of course, but if all worked well he could be taken by surprise. Her rifle was not loaded, but the chances were a hundred to one that she would not need to use it.79
For the first time in his life the roan got the whip from his mistress.
“Git up, Bob. We’ve got to hurry. It’s for dad,” she cried, as they raced through the sand and sent it flying from the wheels.
The Fort Allison stage passed within three miles of the Lee ranch on its way to Mesa. Where the road met in intersection with the ditch she had chosen as the point for stopping it, and no veteran at the business could have selected more wisely, for a reason which will hereafter appear. Some fifty yards below this point of intersection the ditch ran through a grove of cottonwoods fringing the bank. Here the banks sloped down more gradually, and Melissy was able to drive up one side, turn her rig so that the horse faced the other way, and draw down into the ditch again in order that the runabout could not be seen from the road. Swiftly and skilfully she obliterated the track she had made in the sandy bank.
She was just finishing this when the sound of wheels came to her. Rifle in hand, she ran back along the ditch, stooping to pass under the bridge, and waited at the farther side in a fringe of bushes for the coming of the stage.
Even now fear had no place in the excitement which burned high in her. The girl’s wits were fully alert, and just in time she remembered the need of a mask. Her searching fingers found the torn black shirt in a pocket and a knife in another.80Hastily she ripped the linen in half, cut out eyeholes, and tied the mask about her head. With perfectly steady hands she picked up the rifle from the ground and pushed the muzzle of it through the bushes.
Leisurely the stage rolled up-grade toward the crossing. The Mexican driver was half asleep and the “shotgun messenger” was indolently rolling a cigarette, his sawed-off gun between his knees. Alan McKinstra was the name of this last young gentleman. Only yesterday he had gone to work for Morse, and this was the first job that had been given him. The stage never had been held up since the “Monte Cristo” had struck its pay-streak, and there was no reason to suppose it would be. Nevertheless, Morse proposed to err on the side of caution.
“I reckon the man that holds down this job don’t earn his salt, José. It’s what they call a sinecure,” Alan was saying at the very instant the summons came.
“Throw up your hands!”
Sharp and crisp it fell on Alan’s ears. He sat for a moment stunned, the half-rolled cigarette still between his fingers. The driver drew up his four horses with a jerk and brought them to a huddled halt.
“Hands up!” came again the stinging imperative.
Now, for the first time, it reached Alan’s consciousness that the stage was actually being held up. He saw the sun shining on the barrel of a rifle81and through the bushes the masked face of a hidden cowpuncher. His first swift instinct was to give battle, and he reached for the shotgun between his knees. Simultaneously the driver’s foot gave it a push and sent the weapon clattering to the ground. José at least knew better than to let him draw the road agent’s fire while he sat within a foot of the driver. His hands went into the air, and after his Alan’s and those of the two passengers.
“Throw down that box.”
Alan lowered his hands and did as directed.
“Now reach for the stars again.”
McKinstra’s arms went skyward. Without his weapon, he was helpless to do otherwise. The young man had an odd sense of unreality about the affair, a feeling that it was not in earnest. The timbre of the fresh young voice that came from the bushes struck a chord in his memory, though for the life of him he could not place its owner.
“Drive on, José. Burn the wind and keep a-rollin’ south.”
The Mexican’s whip coiled over the head of the leaders and the broncos sprang forward with a jump. It was the summit of a long hill, on the edge of which wound the road. Until the stage reached the foot of it there would be no opportunity to turn back. Round a bend of the road it swung at a gallop, and the instant it disappeared Melissy leaped from the bushes, lifted the heavy box, and carried it to the edge of the ditch. She flew down82the sandy bottom to the place where the rig stood, drove swiftly back again, and, though it took the last ounce of strength in her, managed to tumble the box into the trap.
Back to the road she went, and from the place where the box had fallen made long strides back to the bushes where she had been standing at the moment of the hold-up. These tracks she purposely made deep and large, returning in her first ones to the same point, but from the marks where the falling treasure box had struck into the road she carefully obliterated with her hand the foot-marks leading to the irrigation ditch, sifting the sand in carefully so as to leave no impression. This took scarcely a minute. She was soon back in her runabout, driving homeward fast as whip and voice could urge the horse.
She thought she could reason out what McKinstra and the stage-driver would do. Mesa was twenty-five miles distant, the “Monte Cristo” mine seventeen. Nearer than these points there was no telephone station except the one at the Lee ranch. Their first thought would be to communicate with Morse, with the officers at Mammoth, and with the sheriff of Mesa County. To do this as soon as possible they would turn aside and drive to the ranch after they reached the bottom of the hill and could make the turn. It was a long, steep hill, and Melissy estimated that this would give her a start of nearly twenty minutes. She would save about half a mile83by following the ditch instead of the road, but at best she knew she was drawing it very fine.
She never afterward liked to think of that drive home. It seemed to her that Bob crawled and that the heavy sand was interminable. Feverishly she plied the whip, and when at length she drew out of the ditch she sent her horse furiously round the big corral. Though she had planned everything to the last detail, she knew that any one of a hundred contingencies might spoil her plan. A cowpuncher lounging about the place would have ruined everything, or at best interfered greatly. But the windmill clicked over sunlit silence, empty of life. No stir or movement showed the presence of any human being.
Melissy drove round to the side door, dumped out the treasure-box, ran into the house, and quickly returned with a hammer and some tacks, then fell swiftly to ripping the oilcloth that covered the box which stood against the wall to serve as a handy wash-stand for use by dusty travellers before dining. The two boxes were of the same size and shape, and she draped the treasure chest with the cloth, tacked it in place, restored to the top of it the tin basin, and tossed the former wash-stand among a pile of old boxes from the store, that were to be used for kindling. After this she ran upstairs, scudded softly along the corridor, and silently unlocked the cook’s door, dropping the key on the floor to make it appear as if something had shaken84it from the keyhole. Presently she was in her brother’s room, doffing his clothes and dressing herself in her own.
A glance out of the window sapped the color from her cheek, for she saw the stage breasting the hill scarce two hundred yards from the house. She hurried downstairs, pinning her belt as she ran, and flashed into the store, where Jim sat munching peanuts.
“The stage is coming, Jim. Remember, you’re not to know anything about it at all. If they ask for Dad, say he’s out cutting trail of a bunch of hill cows. Tell them I started after the wild flowers about fifteen minutes ago. Don’t talk much about it, though. I’ll be back inside of an hour.”
With that she was gone, back to her trap, which she swung along a trail back of the house till it met the road a quarter of a mile above. Her actions must have surprised steady old Bob, for he certainly never before had seen his mistress in such a desperate hurry as she had been this day and still was. Nearly a mile above, a less well defined track deflected from the main road. Into this she turned, following it until she came to the head-gates of the lateral which ran through their place. The main canal was full of water, and after some effort she succeeded in opening the head-gates so as to let the water go pouring through.
Returning to the runabout, the girl drove across a kind of natural meadow to a hillside not far distant,85gathered a double handful of wild flowers, and turned homeward again. The stage was still there when she came in sight of the group of buildings at the ranch.
As she drew up and dismounted with her armful of flowers, Alan McKinstra stepped from the store to the porch and came forward to assist her.
“The Fort Allison stage has been robbed,” he blurted out.
“What nonsense! Who would want to rob it?” she retorted.
“Morse had a gold shipment aboard,” he explained in a low voice, and added in bitter self-condemnation: “He sent me along to guard it, and I never even fired a shot to save it.”
“But—do you mean that somebody held up the stage?” she gasped.
“Yes. But whoever it was can’t escape. I’ve ’phoned to Jack Flatray and to Morse. They’ll be right out here. The sheriff of Mesa County has already started with a posse. They’ll track him down. That’s a cinch. He can’t get away with the box without a rig. If he busts the box, he’s got to carry it on a horse and a horse leaves tracks.”
“But who do you think it was?”
“Don’t know. One of the Roaring Fork bunch of bad men, likely. But I don’t know.”
The young man was plainly very much excited and disturbed. He walked nervously up and down,86jerking his sentences out piecemeal as he thought of them.
“Was there only one man? And did you see him?” Melissy asked breathlessly.
He scarcely noticed her excitement, or if he did, it seemed to him only natural under the circumstances.
“I expect there were more, but we saw only one. Didn’t see much of him. He was screened by the bushes and wore a black mask. So long as the stage was in sight he never moved from that place; just stood there and kept us covered.”
“But how could he rob you if he didn’t come out?” she asked in wide-eyed innocence.
“He didn’t robusany. He must ’a’ heard of the shipment of gold, and that’s what he was after. After he’d got us to rights he made me throw the box down in the road. That’s where it was when he ordered us to move on and keep agoing.”
“And you went?”
“José handled the lines, but ’t would ’a’ been the same if I’d held them. That gun of his was a right powerful persuader.” He stopped to shake a fist in impotent fury in the air. “I wish to God I could meet up with him some day when he didn’t have the drop on me.”
“Maybe you will some time,” she told him soothingly. “I don’t think you’re a bit to blame, Alan. Nobody could think so. Ever so many times I’ve heard Dad say that when a man gets the drop on87you there’s nothing to do but throw up your hands.”
“Do you honest think so, Melissy? Or are you just saying it to take the sting away? Looks like I ought to ’a’ done something mor’n sit there like a bump on a log while he walked off with the gold.”
His cheerful self-satisfaction was under eclipse. The boyish pride of him was wounded. He had not “made good.” All over Cattleland the news would be wafted on the wings of the wind that Alan McKinstra, while acting as shotgun messenger to a gold shipment, had let a road agent hold him up for the treasure he was guarding.
“Very likely they’ll catch him and get the gold back,” she suggested.
“That won’t do me any good,” he returned gloomily. “The only thing that can help me now is for me to git the fellow myself, and I might just as well look for a needle in a haystack.”
“You can’t tell. The robber may be right round here now.” Her eyes, shining with excitement, passed the crowd moving in and out of the store, for already the news of the hold-up had brought riders and ranchmen jogging in to learn the truth of the wild tale that had reached them.
“More likely he’s twenty miles away. But whoever he is, he knows this county. He made a slip and called José by his name.”
Melissy’s gaze was turned to the dust whirl that advanced up the road that ran round the corral. “That doesn’t prove anything, Alan. Everybody88knows José. He’s lived all over Arizona—at Tucson and Tombstone and Douglas.”
“That’s right too,” the lad admitted.
The riders in advance of the dust cloud resolved themselves into the persons of her father and Norris. Her incautious admission was already troubling her.
“But I’m sure you’re right. No hold-up with any sense would stay around here and wait to be caught. He’s probably gone up into the Galiuros to hide.”
“Unless he’s cached the gold and is trying to throw off suspicion.”
The girl had moved forward to the end of the house with Alan to meet her father. At that instant, by the ironic humor of chance, her glance fell upon a certain improvised wash-stand covered with oilcloth. She shook her head decisively. “No, he won’t risk waiting to do that. He’ll make sure of his escape first.”
“I reckon.”
“Have you heard, Daddy?” Melissy called out eagerly. She knew she must play the part expected of her, that of a young girl much interested in this adventure which had occurred in the community.
He nodded grimly, swinging from the saddle. She observed with surprise that his eye did not meet hers. This was not like him.
“What do you think?”
His gaze met that of Norris before he answered,89and there was in it some hint of a great fear. “Beats me, ’Lissy.”
He had told the simple truth, but not the whole truth. The men had waited at the entrance to the Box Cañon for nearly two hours without the arrival of the stage. Deciding that something must have happened, they started back, and presently met a Mexican who stopped to tell them the news. To say that they were dazed is to put it mildly. To expect them to believe that somebody else had heard of the secret shipment and had held up the stage two miles from the place they had chosen, was to ask a credulity too simple. Yet this was the fact that confronted them.
Arrived at the scene of the robbery both men had dismounted and had examined the ground thoroughly. What they saw tended still more to bewilder them. Neither of them was a tenderfoot, and the little table at the summit of the long hill told a very tangled tale to those who had eyes to read. Obvious tracks took them at once to the spot where the bandit had stood in the bushes, but there was something about them that struck both men as suspicious.
“Looks like these are worked out on purpose,” commented Lee. “The guy’s leaving too easy a trail to follow, and it quits right abrupt in the bushes. Must ’a’ took an airship from here, I ’low.”
“Does look funny. Hello! What’s this?”90
Norris had picked up a piece of black cloth and was holding it out. A startled oath slipped from the lips of the Southerner. He caught the rag from the hands of his companion and studied it with a face of growing astonishment.
“What’s up?”
Lee dived into his pocket and drew forth the mask he had been wearing. Silently he fitted it to the other. The pieces matched exactly, both in length and in the figure of the pattern.
When the Southerner looked up his hands were shaking and his face ashen.
“For God’s sake, Phil, what does this mean?” he cried hoarsely.
“Search me.”
“It must have been—looks like the hold-up was somebody—my God, man, we left this rag at the ranch when we started!” the rancher whispered.
“That’s right.”
“We planned this thing right under the nigger’s room. He must ’a’ heard and—— But it don’t look like Jim Budd to do a thing like that.”
Norris had crossed the road again and was standing on the edge of the lateral.
“Hello! This ditch is full of water. When we passed down it was empty,” he said.
Lee crossed over and stood by his side, a puzzled frown on his face. “There hadn’t ought to be water running hyer now,” he said, as if to himself. “I don’t see how it could ’a’ come hyer, for Bill Weston—he’s91the ditch rider—went to Mesa this mo’ning, and couldn’t ’a’ got back to turn it in.”
The younger man stooped and examined a foot-print at the edge of the ditch. It was the one Melissy had made just as she stepped into the rig.
“Here’s something new, Lee. We haven’t seen this gentleman’s track before. Looks like a boy’s. It’s right firm and deep in this soft ground. I’ll bet a cooky your nigger never made that track.”
The Southerner crouched down beside him, and they looked at it together, head to head.
“No, it ain’t Jim’s. I don’t rightlysavezthis thing at all,” the old man muttered, troubled at this mystery which seemed to point to his household.
“By Moses, I’ve got it! The guy who did the holding up had his horse down here. He loaded the sack on its back and drove off up the ditch. All we got to do is follow the ditch up or down till we come to the place where he climbed out and struck across country.”
“That’s right, Phil. He must have had a pardner up at the head-gates. They had some kind of signal arranged, and when Mr. Hold-up was ready down come the water and washed out his tracks. It’s a blame’ smooth piece of business if you ask me.”
“The fellow made two bad breaks, though. That piece of shirt is one. This foot-print is another. They may land him in the pen yet.”
“I don’t think it,” returned the old man with composure, and as he spoke his foot erased the telltale92print. “I ’low there won’t anybody go to the pen for he’pin himself to Mr. Morse’s gold dust. I don’t give a cuss who it was.”
Norris laughed in his low, easy way. “I’m with you, Mr. Lee. We’ll make a thorough job while we’re at it and mess up these other tracks. After that we’ll follow the ditch up and see if there’s anything doing.”
They remounted their broncos and rode them across the tracks several times, then followed the lateral up, one on either side of the ditch, their eyes fastened to the ground to see any evidence of a horse having clambered over the bank. They drew in sight of the ranch house without discovering what they were looking for. Lee’s heart was in his mouth, for he knew that he would see presently what his eye sought.
“I reckon the fellow went down instead of up,” suggested Norris.
“No, he came up.”
Lee had stopped and was studying wheel tracks that ran up from the ditch to his ranch house. His face was very white and set. He pointed to them with a shaking finger.
“There’s where he went in the ditch, and there’s where he came out.”
Norris forded the stream, cast a casual eye on the double track, and nodded. He was still in a fog of mystery, but the old man was already fearing the worst.93
He gulped out his fears tremblingly. For himself, he was of a flawless nerve, but this touched nearer home than his own danger.
“Them wheel-tracks was made by my little gyurl’s runabout, Phil.”
“Good heavens!” The younger man drew rein sharply and stared at him. “You don’t think——”
He broke off, recalling the sharp, firm little foot-print on the edge of the ditch some miles below.
“I don’t reckon I know what to think. If she was in this, she’s got some good reason.” A wave of passion suddenly swept the father. “By God! I’d like to see the man that dares mix her name up in this.”
Norris met this with his friendly smile. “You can’t pick a row with me about that, old man. I’m with you till the cows come home. But that ain’t quite the way to go at this business. First thing, we’ve got to wipe out these tracks. How? Why, sheep! There’s a bunch of three hundred in that pasture. We’ll drive the bunch down to the ditch and water them here.Savez?”
“And wipe out the wheel-marks in the sand. Bully for you, Phil.”
“That’s the idea. After twelve hundred chisel feet have been over this sand I reckon the wheel-tracks will be missing.”
They rode up to the house, and the first thing that met them was the candid question of the girl:94
“Have you heard, Daddy?”
And out of his troubled heart he had answered, “Beats me, ’Lissie.”
“They’ve sent for the officers. Jack Flatray is on the way himself. So is Sheriff Burke,” volunteered Alan gloomily.
“Getting right busy, ain’t they?” Norris sneered.
Again Lee glanced quickly at Norris. “I reckon, Phil, we better drive that bunch of sheep down to water right away. I clean forgot them this mo’ning.”
“Sure.” The younger man was not so easily shaken. He turned to McKinstra naturally. “How many of the hold-ups were there?”
“I saw only one, and didn’t see him very good. He was a slim fellow in a black mask.”
“You don’t say. Were you the driver?”
Alan felt the color suffuse his face. “No, I was the guard.”
“Oh, you were the guard.”
Alan felt the suave irony that covered this man’s amusement, and he resented it impotently. When Melissy came to his support he was the more grateful.
“And we all think he did just right in using his common sense, Mr. Norris,” the girl flashed.
“Oh, certainly.”
And with that he was gone after her father to help him water the sheep.
“I don’t see why those sheep have to be watered95right now,” she frowned to Alan. “Daddidwater them this morning. I helped him.”
Together they went into the store, where José was telling his story for the sixth time to a listening circle of plainsmen.
“And right then he come at you and ree-quested yore whole outfit to poke a hole in the scenery with yore front feet?” old Dave Ellis asked just as Melissy entered.
“Si, Señor.”
“One of MacQueen’s Roaring Fork gang did it, I’ll bet,” Alan contributed sourly.
“What kind of a lookin’ guy was he?” spoke up a dark young man known as Bob Farnum.
“A big man,señor, and looked a ruffian.”
“They’re always that way until you run ’em down,” grinned Ellis. “Never knew a hold-up wasn’t eight foot high and then some—to the fellow at the wrong end of the gun.”
“If you mean to say, Dave Ellis, that I lay down to a bluff——” Alan was beginning hotly when the old frontiersman interrupted.
“Keep your shirt on, McKinstra. I don’t mean to say it. Nobody but a darn fool makes a gun-play when the cards are stacked that-a-way. Yore bad play was in reaching for the gun at all.”
“Well, Jack Flatray will git him. I’ll bet a stack of blues on that,” contributed a fat ranchman wheezily.96
“Unless you mussed up the trail coming back,” said Ellis to the stage-driver.
“We didn’t. I thought of that, and I had José drive clear round the place. Jack will find it all right unless there’s too much travel before he gets here,” said Alan.
Farnum laughed malevolently. “Mebbe he’ll get him and mebbe he won’t. Jack’s human, like the rest of us, if he is the best sheriff in Arizona. Here’s hoping he don’t get him. Any man that waltzes out of the cactus and appropriates twenty thousand dollars belonging to Mr. Morse is welcome to it for all of me. I don’t care if he is one of MacQueen’s bad men. I wish it had been forty thousand.”
Farnum did not need to explain the reasons for his sentiments. Everybody present knew that he was the leader of that bunch of cattlemen who had bunched themselves together to resist the encroachments of sheep upon the range. Among these the feeling against Morse was explosively dangerous. It had found expression in more than one raid upon his sheep. Many of them had been destroyed by one means or another, but Morse, with the obstinacy characteristic of him, had replaced them with others and continually increased his herds. There had been threats against his life, and one of his herders had been wounded. But the mine-owner went his way with quiet fearlessness and paid no attention to the animosity he had stirred up. The general feeling was that the trouble must soon come to a head.97Nobody expected the rough and ready vaqueros, reckless and impulsive as they were, to submit to the loss of the range, which meant too the wiping out of their means of livelihood, without a bitter struggle that would be both lawless and bloody.
Wherefore there was silence after Farnum had spoken, broken at length by the amiable voice of the fat ranchman, Baker.
“Well, we’ll see what we’ll see,” he wheezed complacently. “And anyways I got to have some horseshoe plug, Melissy.”
The girl laughed nervously as she reached for what he wanted. “You’re a safe prophet, Mr. Baker,” she said.
“He’d be a safe one if he’d prophesy that Jack Flatray would have Mr. Hold-up in the calaboose inside of three days,” put in a half-grown lad in leathers.
“I ain’t so sure about that. You’ll have to show me, and so will Mr. Deputy Sheriff Flatray,” retorted Farnum.
A shadow darkened the doorway.
“Good afternoon, gentlemen all—and Miss Lee,” a pleasant voice drawled.
The circle of eyes focused on the new-comer and saw a lean, muscular, young fellow of medium height, cool and alert, with the dust of the desert on every sunbaked inch of him.
“I’m damned if it ain’t Jack here already!” gasped Baker.
98CHAPTER VIIWATERING SHEEP
The deputy glanced quietly round, nodded here and there at sight of the familiar face of an acquaintance, and spoke to the driver.
“Let’s hear you say your little piece again, José.”
The Mexican now had it by heart, and he pattered off the thing from beginning to end without a pause. Melissy, behind the counter, leaned her elbows on it and fastened her eyes on the boyish face of the officer. In her heart she was troubled. How much did he know? What could he discover from the evidence she had left? He had the reputation of being the best trailer and the most fearless officer in Arizona. But surely she had covered her tracks safely.
From José the ranger turned to Alan. “We’ll hear your account of it now, seh,” he said gently.
While Alan talked, Jack’s gaze drifted through the window to the flock of sheep that were being driven up from the ditch by Lee and Norris. That little pastoral scene had its significance for him. He99had arrived at the locality of the hold-up a few minutes after they had left, and his keen intelligence had taken in some of the points they had observed. A rapid circuit of the spot at the distance of thirty yards had shown him no tracks leading from the place except those which ran up the lateral on either side of it. It was possible that these belonged to the horses of the robbers, but if so the fellows were singularly careless of detection. Moreover, the booty must be accounted for. They had not carried it with them, since no empty box remained to show that they had poured the gold into sacks, and it would have been impossible to take the box as it was on a horse. Nor had they buried it, unless at the bottom of the irrigating ditch, for some signs of their work must have remained.
Balancing probabilities, it had seemed to Flatray that these might be the tracks of ranchmen who had arrived after the hold-up and were following the escaping bandits up the lateral. For unless these were the robber’s, there was no way of escape except either up or down the bottom of the ditch. His search had eliminated the possibility of any other but the road, and this was travelled too frequently to admit of even a chance of escape by it without detection. Jack filed away one or two questions in his brain for future reference. The most important of these was to discover whether there had been any water in the ditch at the time of the hold-up.
He had decided to follow the tracks leading up100the ditch and found no difficulty in doing so at a fast walk. Without any hesitation they paralleled the edge of the lateral. Nor had the deputy travelled a quarter of a mile before he made a discovery. The rider on the right hand side of the stream had been chewing tobacco, and he had a habit of splashing his mark on boulders he passed in the form of tobacco juice. Half a dozen times before he reached the Lee ranch the ranger saw this signature of identity writ large on smooth rocks shining in the sun. The last place he saw it was at the point where the two riders deflected from the lateral toward the ranch house, following tracks which led up from the bottom of the ditch.
An instant later Flatray had dodged back into the chaparral, for somebody was driving a flock of sheep down to the ditch. He made out that there were two riders behind them, and that they had no dog. For the present his curiosity was satisfied. He thought he knew why they were watering sheep in this odd fashion. Swiftly he had made a circuit, drawn rein in front of the store, and dropped in just in time to hear his name. Now, as with one ear he listened to Alan’s account of the hold-up, with his subconscious mind he was with the sheep-herders who were driving the flock back into the pasture.
“Looks like our friend the bad man was onto his job all right,” was the deputy’s only comment when Alan had finished.
“I’ll bet he’s making his getaway into the hills101mighty immediate,” chuckled Baker. “He can’t find a bank in the mountainside to deposit that gold any too soon to suit him.”
“Sho! I’ll bet he ain’t worried a mite. He’s got his arrangements all made, and likely they’ll dovetail to suit him. He’s put his brand on that gold to stay,” answered Farnum confidently.
Jack’s mild blue eyes rested on him amiably. “Think so, Bob?”
“I ain’t knockin’ you any, Jack. You’re all right. But that’s how I figure it out, and, by Gad! I’m hopin’ it too,” Farnum made answer recklessly.
Flatray laughed and strolled from the crowded room to the big piazza. A man had just cantered up and flung himself from his saddle. The ranger, looking at him, thought he had never seen another so strikingly handsome an Apollo. Black eyes looked into his from a sun-tanned face perfectly modelled. The pose of the head and figure would have delighted a sculptor.
There was a vigor, an unspoken hostility, in the gaze of both men.
“Mo’nin”, Mr. Deputy Sheriff, one said; and the other, “Same to you, Mr. Norris.”
“You’re on the job quick,” sneered the cattle detective.
“The quicker the sooner, I expect.”
“And by night you’ll have Mr. Hold-up roped and hog-tied?”102
“Not so you could notice it. Are you a sheep-herder these days, Mr. Norris?”
The gentle irony of this was not lost on its object, for in the West a herder of sheep is the next remove from a dumb animal.
“No, I’m riding for the Quarter Circle K Bar outfit. This is the first time I ever took the dust of a sheep in my life. I did it to oblige Mr. Lee.”
“Oh! To oblige Mr. Lee?”
“He wanted to water them, and his herder wasn’t here.”
“Must ’a’ been wanting water mighty bad, I reckon,” commented Jack amiably.
“You bet! Lee feels better satisfied now he’s watered them.”
“I don’t doubt it.”
Norris changed the subject. “You must have burnt the wind getting here. I didn’t expect to see you for some hours.”
“I happened to be down at Yeager’s ranch, and one of the boys got me on the line from Mesa.”
“Picked up any clues yet?” asked the other carelessly, yet always with that hint of a sneer; and innocently Flatray answered, “They seem to be right seldom.”
“Didn’t know but you’d happened on the fellow’s trail.”
“I guess I’m as much at sea as you are,” was the equivocal answer.103
Lee came over from the stable, still wearing spurs and gauntlets.
“Howdy, Jack!” he nodded, not quite so much at his ease as usual. “Got hyer on the jump, didn’t you?”
“I kept movin’.”
“This shorely beats hell, don’t it?” Lee glanced around, selected a smooth boulder, and fired his discharge of tobacco juice at it true to the inch. “Reminds me of the old days. You boys ain’t old enough to recall them, but stage hold-ups were right numerous then.”
Blandly the deputy looked from one to the other. “I don’t suppose either of you gentlemen happen to have been down and looked over the ground where the hold-up was? The tracks were right cut up before I got there.”
This center shot silenced Lee for an instant, but Norris was on the spot with smiling ease.
“No, Mr. Lee and I have been hunting strays on the mesa. We didn’t hear about it till a few minutes ago. We’re at your service, though, Mr. Sheriff, to join any posses you want to send out.”
“Much obliged. I’m going to send one out toward the Galiuros in a few minutes now. I’ll be right glad to have you take charge of it, Mr. Norris.”
The derisive humor in the newly appointed deputy’s eyes did not quite reach the surface.
“Sure. Whenever you want me.”104
“I’m going to send Alan McKinstra along to guide you. He knows that country like a book. You want to head for the lower pass, swing up Diable Cañon, and work up in the headquarters of the Three Forks.”
Within a quarter of an hour the posse was in motion. Flatray watched it disappear in the dust of the road without a smile. He had sent them out merely to distract the attention of the public and to get rid of as many as possible of the crowd. For he was quite as well aware as the leader of the posse that this search in the Galiuros was a wild-goose chase. Somewhere within three hundred yards of the place he stood both the robber and his booty were in all probability to be found.
Flatray was quite right in his surmise, since Melissy Lee, who had come out to see the posse off, was standing at the end of the porch with her dusky eyes fastened on him, the while he stood beside the house with one foot resting negligently on the oilcloth cover of the wash-stand.
She had cast him out of her friendship because of his unworthiness, but there was a tumult in her heart at sight of him. No matter how her judgment condemned him as a villain, some instinct in her denied the possibility of it. She was torn in conflict between her liking for him and her conviction that he deserved only contempt. Somehow it hurt her too that he accepted without protest her verdict, appeared so willing to be a stranger to her.105
Now that the actual physical danger of her adventure was past, Melissy was aware too of a chill dread lurking at her heart. She was no longer buoyed up by the swiftness of action which had called for her utmost nerve. There was nothing she could do now but wait, and waiting was of all things the one most foreign to her impulsive temperament. She acknowledged too some fear of this quiet, soft-spoken frontiersman. All Arizona knew not only the daredevil spirit that fired his gentleness, but the competence with which he set about any task he assigned himself. She did not see how hecouldunravel this mystery. She had left no clues behind her, she felt sure of that, and yet was troubled lest he guessed at her secret behind that mask of innocence he wore. He did not even remotely guess it as yet, but he was far closer to the truth than he pretended. The girl knew she should leave him and go about her work. Her rôle was to appear as inconspicuous as possible, but she could not resist the fascination of trying to probe his thoughts.
“I suppose your posse will come back with the hold-ups in a few hours. Will it be worth while to wait for them?” she asked with amiable derision.
The ranger had been absorbed in thought, his chin in his hand, but he brought his gaze back from the distance to meet hers. What emotion lay behind those cold eyes she could not guess.
“You’re more hopeful than I am, Miss Lee.”
“What are you sending them out for, then?”106
“Oh, well, the boys need to work off some of their energy, and there’s always a show they might happen onto the robbers.”
“Do you think some of the Roaring Fork gang did it?”
“Can’t say.”
“I suppose you are staying here in the hope that they will drop in and deliver themselves to you.”
He looked at her out of an expressionless face. “That’s about it, I reckon. But what I tell the public is that I’m staying so as to be within telephone connection. You see, Sheriff Burke is moving up to cut them off from the Catalinas, Jackson is riding out from Mammoth to haid them off that way, these anxious lads that have just pulled out from here are taking care of the Galiuros. I’m supposed to be sitting with my fingers on the keys as a sort of posse dispatcher.”
“Well, I hope you won’t catch them,” she told him bluntly.
“That seems to be a prevailing sentiment round here. You say it right hearty too; couldn’t be more certain of your feelings if it had been your own father.”
He said it carelessly, yet with his keen blue eyes fixed on her. Nevertheless, he was totally unprepared for the effect of his words. The color washed from her bronzed cheeks, and she stood staring at him with big, fear-filled eyes.107
“What—what do you mean?” she gasped. “How dare you say that?”
“I ain’t said anything so terrible. You don’t need to take it to heart like that.” He gave her a faint smile for an instant. “I’m not really expecting to arrest Mr. Lee for holding up that stage.”
The color beat back slowly into her face. She knew she had made a false move in taking so seriously his remark.
“I don’t think you ought to joke about a thing like that,” she said stiffly.
“All right. I’ll not say it next time till I’m in earnest,” he promised as he walked away.
“I wonder if he really meant anything,” the girl was thinking in terror, and he, “she knows something; now, I would like to know what.”
Melissy attended to her duties in the postoffice after the arrival of the stage, and looked after the dining-room as usual, but she was all the time uneasily aware that Jack Flatray had quietly disappeared. Where had he gone? And why? She found no answer to that question, but the ranger dropped in on his bronco in time for supper, imperturbable and self-contained as ever.
“Think I’ll stay all night if you have a room for me,” he told her after he had eaten.
“We have a room,” she said. “What more have you heard about the stage robbery?”
“Nothing, Miss Lee.”
“Oh, I thought maybe you had,” she murmured108tremulously, for his blue eyes were unwaveringly upon her and she could not know how much or how little he might mean.
Later she saw him sitting on the fence, holding genial converse with Jim Budd. The waiter was flashing a double row of white teeth in deep laughter at something the deputy had told him. Evidently they were already friends. When she looked again, a few minutes later, she knew Jack had reached the point where he was pumping Jim and the latter was disseminating misinformation. That the negro was stanch enough, she knew, but she was on the anxious seat lest his sharp-witted inquisitor get what he wanted in spite of him. After he had finished with Budd the ranger drifted around to the kitchen in time to intercept Hop Ling casually as he came out after finishing his evening’s work. The girl was satisfied Flatray could not have any suspicion of the truth. Nevertheless, she wished he would let the help alone. He might accidentally stumble on something that would set him on the right track.