CHAPTER XXIV
THE BRIDE IS LOST
For reasons of economy there was to be no wedding trip, except the driveto their home in the Canon. Later, perhaps, they would journey to somerailroad town to shop, and--come a good year--Lafe would take her to aMiddle West city--"to the East," they called it in Badger.
A buckboard was in waiting, a pair of spirited young bays strainingagainst the men who held them. Sheltering Hetty with his body from ashower of rice and old shoes, the sheriff and his bride sped down thepath from the Widow Brown's. He lifted her into the buckboard and pickedup the reins. Then a cloud of dust swept down on them, and out of thecloud came a rattle of hoofs. A rope sped, and the sheriff was jerkedoff the seat.
"Help, Horne!" he cried. "They've got me."
The treacherous Horne gave succor by grinning while the cowboys boundthe groom. Hetty had disappeared, whisked away in the turmoil. A man wasdriving the buckboard toward the company's corrals, but of the bridethere was not a trace. Stealing her from her lord's arms is one of themerriest jests we have.
"Well," said Lafe good-naturedly, "I reckon it's one on me. Turn meloose. I buy."
An hour went by, and he endeavored to escape from his friends that hemight rejoin his wife. They would not hear of it. When Lafe insisted andleft despite them, he was unable to find Hetty. For another hour he keptpatient, dawdling in Turner's place and giving as good as he got in theway of badinage. Everybody in town seized the opportunity to rally himwhile he waited. The sheriff sat on the counter, kicking his heelsagainst the boards, and never once lost countenance.
About five o'clock Mrs. Horne ran in hot haste to her husband.
"Hetty," she panted, "where is she?"
"How should I know?" said Horne. "You had her last. Didn't you and Mrs.Brown hide her out?"
"We locked her in Mrs. Turner's house. She's gone. She isn't there. Oh,what shall I do? She's gone."
"Pshaw!" the cowman said. "She's all right. She's just given you theslip to go find Lafe."
Still wringing her hands, Mrs. Horne returned to her ally, the Widow,and they hunted the house and Mrs. Turner's house all over again. Hettywas not to be found.
"Boys, a joke's a joke and I can take mine with the rest," saidLafe--in proof whereof he gave vent to a hollow "ha, ha"--"but this hasgone further. I want my wife. I want Hetty. Where is she?"
It was the supper hour and they were collected at the Fashion, and stillno sign of the bride. Even Horne began to look anxious. His wife and theWidow melted into tears, bitterly bewailing their share in thisunfortunate practical joking. Lafe indulged in no reproaches when thesituation was explained to him, but started on a systematic raking ofBadger. Search parties were instantly formed and not a corner of thetown was overlooked.
One of the Lazy L outfit--he who had given the milch cow--became atrifle too acrimonious in his denunciation of the manner in which theAnvil men had behaved. They had stepped beyond the bounds of gentlemanlycomportment, he contended. There were high words, but the men separated.Later they met again in the Cowboys' Rest and a shooting was imminent. Aboy summoned the sheriff.
"Don't, boys," said Lafe, entering hastily. "Put up the gun, Dave. Noshooting now. Be good boys. If anything happened--if anybody gothurt--Hetty, it'd break her all up."
The combatants reluctantly surrendered their weapons and as reluctantlyshook hands. Each was hurriedly impressed into a search party and theywere led in opposite directions.
Night found the citizens of Badger beating the bushes and peering intofence corners and yelling Hetty's name. Despairing of finding her intown, the sheriff and Horne made a circuit of the place. It had to bedone slowly, as the ground was rough and one was apt to fall over moundsof tin cans and other debris.
They were about a quarter of a mile beyond Badger's limits, when Lafehalted suddenly.
"She's somewhere near," said he.
"Why, how do you figure it? I can't see my hand in front of my face."
"Figure it?" said the sheriff, who was trembling. "Man, I can feel it."
He cupped his hands and shouted--"Hetty! Oh--Hetty!"
"Here I am," said a drowsy voice. "Is that you, Lafe? Gracious, what'shappened? It's dark."
There was the bride, sitting beside a mesquite bush and rubbing hereyes. They ran to her. She got up and limped a few steps.
"My foot's gone to sleep," she exclaimed.
With Lafe holding her on one side and Horne pacing austerely on theother, she walked into town. Why had she run away? She had run away fromMrs. Horne and the Widow because she perceived what they planned to do.For an hour or two she waited for Lafe outside the town and then grewvery sleepy. So she lay down beside the bush.
"I knew you would find me," said she.
Horne began to whistle, not caring to hear the sheriff's assurance thathe would find her at the ends of the world--wherever those be.
"What time is it? Lafe, dear, I'm so hungry. I feel like a steak," saidHetty.
While she was partaking of this with a very unbridelike appetite, andLafe was doing his best opposite her, a messenger brought the sheriff anenvelope. It was unaddressed, but there was a note inside--
Here's wishing you'll be happy. Adios. I won't bother you till after the honeymoon.
STEVE.
While he was puzzling over it, Hetty asked what was the matter. Hepassed her the paper.
"Wrote it in jail, I reckon," he said.
"Oh, Lafe," said Turner, sticking his head inside the door, "here's atelegram for you."
It was from the county seat.
Steve Moffatt broke jail here yesterday. Gone over the Border.
This, also, Lafe handed to his wife.
"Doggone his fat head," he said. "Why couldn't he wait? Let somebodyelse catch him. My successor can do that."
"Of course," she answered, sighing happily. "You'll never be botheredwith him again."
"Never no more," said the sheriff, not knowing what the years wouldbring.
Although it was ten o'clock when they finished their meal, both insistedon setting out for their new home in Hope Canon.
"Don't go to-night. You can stay with me," said the Widow Brown."There's lots of room. Or wait--I'll move out. You'll be morecomfortable all alone."
"No, thank you, ma'am," answered the sheriff. "I know the trail like Ido the path from your front gate. We'll be there in two hours."
So they set out through the languorous dark. Lafe drove easily with onehand.
The Sheriff of Badger: A Tale of the Southwest Borderland Page 24
