"Shoot me! Hang me! I don't care. Only don't turn me over to that devil there. He'll torture me! For God's sake, don't do it! I'll confess! I'll tell yuh all I ever done. I an' my outfit's been rustling them cows from the Bar S an' the Cross-in-a-box. We've done it for years!
"We used to hold the cows in a blind cañon south o' Smoky Peak till the brands healed. There's more'n a hundred cows there now! They're Hawg Pen an' Cross-in-a-box an' Bar S cows! An' we rustled Scotty Mackenzie's hosses while Skinny Maxson o' Marysville toled yuh away up to Hatchet Creek, an' 'twas me shot Scotty. I'd 'a' done for him only I thought he was dead. An' I sent Rufe Cutting to the Flying M so he could help us when the time come! Pete O'Leary the same way! He was with me to-night. Djuh get him?"
"No, we didn't," replied Loudon. "It's no use a-takin' on thisaway. We trailed the hosses to Piegan City, an' Archer an' the Maxson boys are under arrest. Yuh see how it is. We know all about you an' yore gang. We can't do nothin' for yuh."
"But yuh don't know all I done myself!" Blakely pursued, wildly. "I tell yuh, I'd ought to be hung! I'd ought to be hung ten times over. It was me shot Johnny Ramsay that time he found the dead Bar S cow an' her calf on our range. An' I tried to get you, Loudon, when yuh was snuffin' 'round that ledge on Pack-saddle where we used to throw the cows across. An' I thought up that scheme for makin' yuh out a rustler with them Crossed Dumbbell cows. I done it, I tell yuh! Can't yuh understand? Hang me! Oh, please hang me, gents!"
Blakely, fairly gibbering with fear, crawled on his knees toward Loudon. Blakely's hands were bound behind his back. The drying blood from the scalp wound, inflicted by the barrel of Loudon's six-shooter, had stiffened his black hair into upstanding matted masses. He was a wretched spectacle.
"Loudon! Loudon!" shrinked Blakely. "It was me swore out that warrant for yuh for stealin' the chestnut I sold yuh. I sent the sheriff up the Bend after yuh, an' I'd 'a' hanged yuu sure as —— if I'd ever laid hands on yuh. Now hang me! Hang me quick, an' get it over with!"
"Telescope!" exclaimed Loudon, "I guess we'll go down to the corrals."
When Blakely perceived that there was no hope for him, that his was to be no easy death, he went frantic. Hysteria seized him. He sobbed, laughed, and uttered the most blood-chilling screams, his body thrashing about like a shark in its death-throes.
Laguerre, sitting cross-legged on the floor, had been whetting his skinning-knife on his boot-leg for the past half-hour. Now he held up the knife and thumbed the broad blade.
Loudon and the others, their eyes lowered, passed out of the ranch house into the pale light of dawn. The morning star blazed diamond-bright above the lemon-yellow splendour in the east. A little wind blew past their faces. The air was fresh with the promise of the new day. They drew long, grateful breaths and looked from under their eyebrows at each other.
"I feel sick," Johnny Ramsay said, frankly.
The horse which Johnny had tied to the post had been lying down. It rose with a heave and a plunge and stood blowing and cracking its nostrils.
"Well, if there ain't Telescope's gray," announced Loudon. "So the fellahs we chased out o' Farewell was Blakely an' O'Leary after all. They shore picked the best hosses in the corral when they took Brown Jug an' the gray. No wonder we couldn't catch 'em."
"Yo're right," Johnny and Chuck chorused, loudly.
"Life's a funny thing," Loudon rambled on, speaking quite rapidly. "Here we run our legs off after them two fellahs, an' they turn 'round an' come back to us all prompt an' unexpected. I guess I'll water that hoss an' take his saddle off."
He turned back. The others crawled up on the corral fence.
"Wish I'd thought o' the hoss," grumbled Johnny. "I want somethin' to do."
With shaking fingers he rolled a cigarette and spilled most of the tobacco. The clamour within the ranch house suddenly became louder.
"He shore takes it hard," muttered Chuck Morgan, repressing a shudder with difficulty.
Loudon slid around the corner of the ranch house and joined them on the top rail.
"Thought yuh was goin' to water the hoss," said Chuck.
"Telescope's goin' to use him," said Loudon, and endeavoured to whistle "The Zebra Dun."
"I'm kind o' glad to know who did plug me that time," remarked Johnny.
"I've always knowed who done it," Loudon said. "I dug a forty-five bullet out o' Blakely's swell-fork the day we had the run-in at the Bar S."
"Why didn't yuh tell me?" demanded Johnny.
"The bullet wasn't proof, when yuh come right down to it. No use o' yore lockin' horns with Blakely, anyway. It wouldn't 'a' done no good."
"Well, it don't—— Hellenblazes! Hear him yell!"
Loudon began to swear under his breath. A door banged suddenly. Blakely's insane shrieking abruptly stilled. Soon the three men heard the trample of the gray's feet. Then, beyond the ranch house, appeared Laguerre. He was mounted. Face downward across his lap lay Blakely, gagged with his own holster and silk neckerchief.
Riding at a walk, Laguerre headed toward the grove of singing pines where they had left their horses. When Brown Jug and his double burden disappeared among the trees Loudon drew a long breath.
"I ain't in a bit of a hurry for my hoss," he declared.
"Which I should say not!" Johnny Ramsay exclaimed with fervour.
The sun was an hour high when Laguerre loped out of the grove. He was leading their four horses. They watched him with morbid fascination.
Laguerre rode up to the corral and halted. The gray, hard held, shook his head. On the right cheek-piece of the horse's bridle a black-haired scalp flapped soggily. And Laguerre looked up at the three men on the top rail of the corral.
"No use hangin' round here no more," said Loudon, slipping to the ground. "Might as well mosey over to that blind cañon south of Smoky Peak an' see if them cattle really are there."
Three days later Loudon and his comrades, their horses drooping-headed and heavy-legged, rode into Farewell. Signs of the late skirmish were plentiful. There was not a whole pane of glass in any of the buildings which had served as forts; and doors, facades, and window casings were pock-marked with bullet-holes.
Bill Lainey, consistent always, was dozing under the wooden awning of his hotel. Awakened, the hotelkeeper solemnly shook hands all around, and wheezed that it was a fine day.
"Yeah," said Loudon, "the air round these parts does seem clearer a lot. An' there ain't so many folks on the street, either."
"There won't be for a while," declared Bill Lainey. "We buried twenty-three gents day before yesterday, hanged twelve up the road a piece, an' Scotty an' Jack Richie an' that crowd rubbed out nine o' the boys that slid out o' the Happy Heart over by Dead Horse Spring."
"How many got away?" inquired Johnny Ramsay.
"'Bout twenty—twenty-four maybe," replied the hotel-keeper. "I dunno for shore. But anyhow the 88 outfit is shot full o' holes. Eleven of 'em cashed here in town, an' seven was got outside o' town. The rest made it safe, I guess."
"Was they all here before the riot?" queried Loudon.
"Every last one of 'em, 'ceptin' Rudd an' Marvin. They come in a-huntin' trouble. They've been sore 'count o' Mike Flynn's sassin' the sheriff an' darin' him an' the 88 to lock horns with him. Well, there was a gent in town that day, dunno who he was, but anyhow when Rufe Cutting went into the sheriff's shack the stranger went in, too. Oh, you seen the inside o' the shack, did yuh? Well, it was what the stranger done started things a-rollin'. Two o' the deputies plugged him through the window, an' the rest of us wouldn't stand no such actions as that, so we started. Good thing you gents an' Jack Richie an' the others happened along when yuh did."
"Any of our boys get it?"
"Long Riley an' Masters o' the Cross-in-a-box went out here in town, an' three fellers, Newhall an' Lane o' Paradise Bend, an' Morton o' the Flyin' M, in the battle at Dead Horse. Our tally was more. We lost seven of our best citizens. Four of 'em died right here in my hotel—two in the dinin' room, one at the door, an' one in the kitchen. There's quite a jag o' gents nicked an' creased, but the doc says they'll pull through all right."
"But look here, Bill, has Rufe Cutting been holin' out over at the 88 right along?"
"I dunno how long he's been there, Tom, but anyway he rid in with half-a-dozen o' the 88 'bout two weeks ago, an' he was with 'em when they all come in for their battle."
"Do yuh remember what Rufe rode for a hoss the first time he come in?"
"Bald-face pinto—both times."
"I was wonderin'," Loudon said. "Yuh see, Bill, Rufe stole my hoss, Ranger, up in Paradise Bend, an' the mornin' o' the fight here the little hoss turns up at the Cross-in-a-box. It ain't none likely Rufe brought him. I'm tryin' to figger out the mystery."
Bill Lainey's fat body shook with laughter. He gripped his sides and panted for breath.
"That explains it," he wheezed, "It was yore hoss that the 88 was fussin' round after."
"What are yuh talkin' about?" demanded Loudon.
"Why, it's thisaway, Tom. When Blakely an' his gang come in they scampered round a-pokin' into every corral in town. Said one o' their hosses had been stole five days before, an' they was out to find the pony an' the thief. I didn't pay no attention, 'cept to see they didn't take one o' my hosses by mistake. Yuh see, I allowed they was lyin' all along an' just huntin' any old excuse to unhook their artillery. Yore hoss! Well, if that ain't rich!"
"It must 'a' been my hoss," averred Loudon, solemnly. "I guess now Rufe might have been anxious to get him back—some."
"Yeah," cut in Johnny Ramsay, "but who stole him from the 88? Guess the mystery's thicker'n ever, Tom."
"Looks like it," agreed Loudon. "Scotty or any of 'em in town now, Bill?"
"Scotty ain't. Him an' the Flyin' M bunch have rode south—Damson, I heard Mike Flynn say. Jack Richie's around some'ers. Here he comes now!"
"Which I'd admire to know where you fellers went," exclaimed Jack Richie, his expression radiating relief. "I was bettin' yuh'd been bushwhacked, but Scotty he said no, yuh was more likely bushwhackin' somebody else, an' yuh'd all turn up like plugged dollars bimeby. By the looks of that led horse Scotty had yuh sized up right. Who'd yuh gather in?"
"Blakely," Loudon replied, quietly.
At this juncture Richie perceived the scalp on the gray's bridle.
"I see," said Jack Richie. "Run across any one else?"
"Fellah named O'Leary—yuh don't know him. He got away. We was at the 88 at the time. Before—before Blakely went he confessed to a whole raft o' stuff. We followed up part o' what he said, an' over in a blind cañon south o' Smoky Peak in the Three Sisters we found a hundred an' twenty Bar S, Hawg Pen, an' Cross-in-a-box cows. Some o' the brands was almost healed up, but there was enough that wasn't to tell where they come from. There wasn't nobody with 'em."
"Smoky Peak, huh? Hoofs shaved down or burnt, I s'pose?"
"Shore," replied Loudon. "They won't be able to travel under two weeks."
"Did yuh tell Old Salt the joyful news—about the cattle?"
"I'll send him word."
"He's down at Mike Flynn's now. Go an' make him happy. But first c'mon in an' irrigate. If we don't do it right away, Johnny'll faint. His tongue's hangin' out a foot."
"I'll see yuh later. Guess I'd better tell Old Salt first."
Loudon did not feel particularly cheerful as he walked down the street. His work was done—and well done. His enemies were either no more or journeying swiftly elsewhere. There was peace for honest men in Fort Creek County at last. But there was no peace in Loudon's soul. He was learning for the second time that forgetfulness comes not easily.
In front of the Blue Pigeon Store a buckboard was standing. The rangy vehicle and its team of ponies struck a chord in Loudon's memory. He had seen them recently. Where? Idly speculating he entered the Blue Pigeon. Mr. Saltoun, leaning over the counter, was talking to Mike Flynn.
"Ahoy, Tom!" bawled Mike Flynn, thrusting forward his immense, freckled paw. "'Tis a sight for sore eyes yuh are. Glory be, but I thought yuh kilt!"
Mr. Saltoun's greeting was less enthusiastic, but it was friendly. Loudon sat down on the counter and swung his spurred heels.
"About them cattle now," he said, slowly, his eyes fixed on Mr. Saltoun's face. "Yuh remember I told yuh the 88 was rustlin' 'em?"
Mr. Saltoun nodded.
"I remember," he said.
"Them cows," Loudon said, distinctly, "are in a blind cañon south o' Smoky Peak, along with Hawg Pen an' Cross-in-a-box cattle. That is, most of 'em are there. The rest yuh'll have to pick out o' the 88 herds, I guess."
Mr. Saltoun's capitulation was instant and handsome.
"You was right!" he exclaimed, warmly, holding out his hand. "You was right all along. I shore had the 88 sized up wrong, an'"—vigorously pumping Loudon's hand—"any time yuh want a job there's one at the Bar S for yuh. Er—my range-boss is quittin' next month. What do yuh say to his job?"
"Now that's right good hearin'," replied Loudon, "but I guess I'll stick with the Flyin' M awhile. Thank yuh just as much."
"Oh, that's all right. Any time yuh feel like makin' a change, why, yuh know where to come. Well, I got to be goin'. Say, Mike, don't forget to order them collars for my buckboard harness."
"I shore won't. So long."
Loudon followed Mr. Saltoun into the street.
"Somethin' new, ain't it?" queried Loudon, flicking a thumb at the buckboard.
"Yep," said Mr. Saltoun, gathering up the reins. "Bought team an' all a month ago from Shaner o' the Three Bars. Got 'em cheap, too. Judge Allison was after 'em, but I got 'em. Huh? What did yuh say?"
"I didn't say nothin'. Somethin' stuck in my throat."
"Well, so long, take care o' yoreself."
Loudon stood on the sidewalk gazing after the dwindling buckboard. The mention of Judge Allison had supplied the missing link in the chain of memory. He had seen that buckboard, driven by a woman, stop in front of Judge Allison's house in Marysville, and it had been considerably less than a month ago. Hence, at the time, the buckboard must have been the property of Mr. Saltoun. And Kate was the only woman at the Bar S ranch. The driver must have been Kate Saltoun. Why should Kate call on Judge Allison?
"Shershay la fam," the Judge had remarked in explanation of his rather bald espousal of Loudon's cause. "Find the woman." Did the Judge mean Kate, and was it because of Kate's visit that he had become Loudon's friend? It did not seem possible, yet, if Kate actually had pleaded for him it was on a par with her actions in Paradise Bend.
Loudon, pondering the matter, stood quite still, utterly oblivious to his surroundings. The sudden creak of wheels, a familiar tinny clatter, and a cry of "Howdy, Tom!" brought him out of his reverie with a jerk.
He looked up. Ten feet distant, Captain Burr, on the seat of his peddler's wagon, regarded him with kindly eyes.
"Wool-gatherin', Tom?" said the lean little man, waggling his white beard. "I'm surprised."
"I was just a-wonderin'," Loudon said, forcing a smile, "whether we was goin' to have rain or not."
"I shouldn't wondeh," Captain Burr remarked, gravely staring up into the cloudless blue. "I've just come in from the Bah S," he continued, abruptly. "Miss Kate has two right soah hands. Right soah, they ah. I sold the young lady some salve."
"Sore hands," repeated Loudon, stupidly. "Why, I—I heard her thumb was tore pretty bad, but—but I didn't know both of 'em was hurt."
"Yes, the young lady's right thumb has quite a gash, and the palm of her left hand is cut all the way across. She cut it on a rock!"
"Cut it on a rock?"
"On a rock! She was comin' out o' the house, she said, an' she tripped on the doorsill an' fell. Fell pretty heavy, Her hand was sho' cut quite a lot."
"Lemme get this straight. Yuh say she cut her left hand, an' on a rock?"
"Yes, Tom," said Captain Burr, gently, "that's the how of it."
Without a word Loudon turned and fled. Five minutes later, mounted on Bill Lainey's toughest horse, he was galloping out of Farewell. Two miles out he passed Mr. Saltoun. The latter called to him but received no response save a hand-wave.
"Well," observed Mr. Saltoun, "if he's changed his mind about that job, he's shore actin' mighty odd."
Within two hours after leaving Farewell Loudon halted his staggering pony in front of the Bar S ranch house. In the hammock on the porch sat Kate Saltoun. Her face was rather white, and there were dark shadows beneath her black eyes.
Loudon sucked in his breath sharply at the sight of the poor, bandaged hands. Kate sat motionless, her gaze level, her face without expression. Loudon felt like a stranger.
"Kate," he began, "Kate——" and stopped.
"Well," said Kate at last, dropping her eyes.
Released from the spell of that chill stare, Loudon found his tongue.
"I come to have a little talk with yuh," he said. "Yuh see, I've been findin' out things lately. You drove over to Marysville an' talked to Judge Allison on my account, didn't yuh?"
"Who told you?" Kate did not raise her head.
"Nobody told me. But I ain't a fool. I seen the Bar S buckboard in Marysville, an' a woman was drivin', an' the judge said, 'Shershay la fam,' meanin' 'Find the woman.' Well, yo're the woman all right. I know yuh are. An' that cut left hand yuh didn't get by trippin' over the doorsill like yuh told Cap'n Burr. Yuh got it by fallin' on a rock back o' the Cross-in-a-box ranch house after yuh'd tied Ranger to the post. Yuh can't tell me different.
"Yore cut hand, an' yore knowin' that I'd be at the Cross-in-a-box, an' the way it was done an' all, makes it certain. Yuh gave me my hoss back. An' yuh paid Rudd to get him for yuh. Ranger was at the 88 all right. An' yuh couldn't 'a' got hold o' him 'cept through somebody like Rudd. No wonder yuh stuck by Rudd! It was the only thing yuh could do, 'specially when he'd saved yore life, too."
"He didn't save my life. I thought if I told you that he had, you might let him go. I lied. I'd have told any number of lies to save him. He was a horse thief, and he and Marvin tried to prove you a rustler, but he trusted me. You wouldn't take my word when I asked you to, but Rudd did when he brought me Ranger and I didn't have the full amount I'd promised him. I told him that I'd bring the money three days later in the draw where the sumac bushes grow, and he believed me and he led Ranger all the way to that lonesome spruce grove on Cow Creek where I wanted to keep the horse till I could return him to you. After that I couldn't desert Rudd. I couldn't have lived with myself if I had."
"I know. I should 'a' took yore word, but—well, anyhow, I should 'a' took it an' let it go at that. I owe everythin' to yuh. Yuh took care o' me in Paradise Bend. Yuh worked for me, an' it was yore doin' that, that made findin' Scotty's hosses almost a cinch. Yuh went an' got Hockling an' Red when the deputies jumped us over near Pack-saddle.
"Yuh done it all, you did, an' I'm here to tell yuh I'm a dog, an' I ain't fit to saddle yore hoss. I can't thank yuh. Thanks don't mean nothin' 'side o' what yuh done for me. But—but how much besides the sixty did yuh pay Rudd? I can settle that, anyhow."
"It doesn't matter in the least," said Kate, her eyes still on the floor.
"It does matter. It matters a lot. I've got to know. I can't——"
"Listen," interrupted Kate, flinging up her head and meeting his gaze squarely, "I'm going to tell you something. Once upon a time you told me you loved me. I treated you very badly. Later I was sorry, and I did everything in my power to make amends. I even told you I loved you. I loved you with all my heart and soul and body. I could have made you happy as no other woman on earth could have made you happy. Well, that's over. I've learned my lesson."
"Kate! Kate! I do love yuh—I do! I do!"
Loudon's hat was under his feet. His long body was trembling.
"You do, do you?" said Kate, her voice icy. "Then perhaps I can make you suffer as you made me suffer. I don't believe I can, but I'll try. I don't love you! Do you understand? I don't love you!"
"Then—then why did yuh go to the Judge? Why did yuh get my hoss? Why——"
"Why? Because I wanted you, if such a thing were possible, to go through life in my debt. You won't forget me now. And I'm glad—glad!"
"Then why did yuh walk in the water if yuh wanted me to know I owed yuh so much? Why did yuh wear boots too big for yuh to make me think it was a man brought Ranger to the Cross-in-a-box? Why did yuh go to Marysville all wrapped up, so nobody'd know yuh? What yuh say don't hang together."
"Doesn't it? I'm sorry. You'd have found out about the Judge and Ranger before a great while. I'd have seen to it that you did. I merely didn't care to have you know about these things at the time."
"I guess I understand," Loudon muttered. "I'll—I'll send yuh Ranger. Yuh've done bought him. He's yores. I'll go now."
"Oh, don't bother about Ranger—— Look out!"
So engrossed had been the two that neither had heard the gallop of an approaching horse till it shot around the corner of the house and was almost upon them. As Kate shrieked her warning she sprang from the hammock and flung herself in front of Loudon. For the man on the horse was Pete O'Leary, and he was apparently aiming a six-shooter at Loudon.
"You —— spy!" yelled O'Leary.
Even as O'Leary's six-shooter cracked, Loudon swept Kate to one side and fired from the hip. O'Leary swayed, dropped his gun, then pitched forward over his saddle-horn. Loudon ran to him. As he reached O'Leary the latter rolled over on his back.
"Teach her to spy on my letters!" he gasped. "If it hadn't been for her I——"
He choked and died.
Loudon thrust his sixshooter into its holster and turned. Kate, her lips colourless, her eyes dilated, was clinging to one of the porch uprights. Loudon crossed the intervening space in two leaps.
"Where yuh hit?" he cried.
"I'm not hit," she replied, shakily. "But—but did he—did you—are you hurt?"
"I ain't even creased. Now you go in the house an' stay. Here come Jimmie an' Rainey. We'll take care o' what's out here."
Obediently Kate went into the house.
Half an hour later, in the living room, Loudon found her. She rose from her chair at his entrance and faced him in silence. The cold, defiant expression had vanished from her face. In its stead was the look of a frightened child. Loudon halted within a yard of her.
"Kate," said he, "yuh can say what yuh like about yore reasons for goin' to Judge Allison an' takin' that night ride to the Cross-in-a-box, an' I've got to believe yuh. But if yuh don't love me why did yuh jump in front o' me when O'Leary fired?"
"I thought he was going to shoot you," she replied, forcing herself to meet his eyes. "I—I didn't know I was the one till I heard him say so."
"Yuh thought he was goin' to drop me, an' yuh jumped in front o' me; why?"
Kate's face was upturned. Her lips parted. Her body swayed toward him.
"Take me!" she cried. "Oh, take me!"
*****
"Why did yuh say what yuh did about wantin' to make me suffer when yuh loved me all the time?"
"I couldn't help it. I thought I'd lost you, and then you came, and—and then I wanted to hurt you, and I did. I don't know what I'd have done if you'd gone away. For I do love you, boy!"
Loudon held her close as the dark head snuggled against his shoulder.
"I know," said he, soberly.
"I guess I've always loved you," murmured Kate, "I must have. I—I hate myself when I think of—of Blakely. I found out what he was while he was lying here wounded. He was delirious and he spoke of a woman, another man's wife, named Marie, down on the Sweetwater. Oh, it was awful—what he said. I can't tell you. It—it woke me up. Then I knew what I had lost when you left the ranch. You'll never leave me again, will you?"
"Of course I won't!"
It was a large wedding for the Lazy River country.
Scotty Mackenzie privately informed Jack Richie that he didn't know, the marriage might turn out all right, but Kate was such a good-looker, and he'd always mistrusted good-lookers himself.
Scotty's pessimism was pardonable. He had lost a good employee, while Mr. Saltoun was the gainer by an excellent range-boss.
THE END