CHAPTER V
A PHOTOGRAPH
On the third morning Beauchamp Lee returned to Mesa--unshaven, dusty, andfagged with hard riding. He brought with him a handbill which he hadpicked up in the street. Melissy hung over him and ministered to hisneeds. While he was eating breakfast he talked.
"No luck yet, honey. He's hiding in some pocket of the hills, I reckon;and likely there he'll stay till the hunt is past. They don't make themany slicker than Dunc, dad gum his ugly hide!"
"What is that paper?" his daughter asked.
Lee curbed a disposition toward bad language, as he viewed it withdisgust. "This here is bulletin number one, girl. It's the cheekiest, mostimpudent thing I ever saw. MacQueen serves notice to all the people ofthis county to keep out of this fight. Also, he mentions me and JackFlatray by name--warning us that, if we sit in the game, hell will bepopping for us."
"What will you do?"
"Do? I'll get back to my boys fast as horseflesh will get me there, onceI've had a talk with that beef buyer from Kansas City I made anappointment to see before this thing broke loose. You don't allow I'mgoing to let any rustler dictate to me what I'll do and what I won't--doyou?"
"Where do you reckon he had this printed?" she asked.
"I don't reckon, I know. Late last night a masked man woke up Jim Snell.You know, he sleeps in a room at the back of the printing office. Well,this fellow made him dress, set up this bill, and run off five hundredcopies while he stood over him. I'll swan I never heard of such cheek!"
Melissy told what she had to tell--after which her father shaved, took abath, and went out to meet the buyer from Kansas City. His business kepthim until noon. After dinner Melissy's saddle horse was brought around,and she joined her father to ride back with him for a few miles.
About three o'clock she kissed him good-bye, and turned homeward. Aftershe had passed the point where the Silver Creek trail ran into the roadshe heard the sound of a galloping horse behind. A rider was coming alongthe trail toward town. He gained on her rapidly, and presently a voicehailed her gayly:
"The top o' the mornin' to you, Miss 'Lissie."
She drew up to wait for him. "My name is still Miss Lee," she told himmildly, by way of correction.
"I'm glad it is, but we can change it in three minutes at any time, mydear," he laughed.
She had been prepared to be more friendly toward him, but at this shefroze again.
"Did you leave Mrs. O'Connor and the children well?" she asked pointedly,looking directly at him.
His smile vanished, and he stared at her in a very strange fashion. Shehad taken the wind completely out of his sails. It had not occurred to himthat O'Connor might be a married man. Nor did he know but that it might bea trick to catch him. He did the only thing he could do--made answer in anironic fashion, which might mean anything or nothing.
"Very well, thank you."
She saw at once that the topic did not allure him, and pushed home heradvantage. "You must miss Mrs. O'Connor when you are away on duty."
"Must I?"
"And the children, too. By the way, what are their names?"
"You're getting up a right smart interest in my family, all of a sudden,"he countered.
"One can't talk about the weather all the time."
He boldly decided to slay the illusion of domesticity. "If you want toknow, I have neither wife nor children."
"But I've heard about them all," she retorted.
"You have heard of Mrs. O'Connor, no doubt; but she happens to be thewife of a cousin of mine."
The look which she flashed at him held more than doubt.
"You don't believe me?" he continued. "I give you my word that I'm notmarried."
They had left the road, and were following a short cut which wound downtoward Tonti, in and out among the great boulders. The town, dwarfed tomicroscopic size by distance, looked, in the glare of the sunlight, as ifit were made of white chalk. Along the narrow trail they went singly,Melissy leading the way.
She made no answer, but at the first opportunity he forced his horse to alevel with hers.
"Well--you heard what I said," he challenged.
"The subject is of no importance to me," she said.
"It's important to me. I'm not going to have you doing me an injustice. Itell you I'm not married. You've got to believe me."
Her mind was again alive with suspicions. Jack had told her Bucky O'Connorwas married, and he must have known what he was talking about.
"I don't know whether you are married or not. I am of the opinion thatLieutenant O'Connor has a wife and three children. More than once I havebeen told so," she answered.
"You seem to know a heap about the gentleman."
"I know what I know."
"More than I do, perhaps," he suggested.
Her eyes dilated. He could see suspicion take hold of her.
"Perhaps," she answered quietly.
"Does that mean you think I'm not Bucky O'Connor?" He had pushed his ponyforward so as to cut off her advance, and both had halted for the moment.
She looked at him with level, fearless eyes. "I don't know who you are."
"But you think I'm not Lieutenant O'Connor of the rangers?"
"I don't know whether you are or not."
"There is nothing like making sure. Just look over this letter, please."
She did so. It was from the governor of the Territory to the rangerofficer. While he was very complimentary as to past services, the governormade it plain that he thought O'Connor must at all hazards succeed insecuring the release of Simon West. This would be necessary for the goodname of the Territory. Otherwise, a widespread report would go out thatArizona was a lawless place in which to live.
Melissy folded the letter and handed it back. "I beg your pardon,Lieutenant O'Connor. I see that I was wrong."
"Forget it, my dear. We all make mistakes." He had that curious mockingsmile which so often hovered about his lips. She felt as though he werederiding her--as though his words held some hidden irony which she couldnot understand.
"The governor seems very anxious to have you succeed. It will be a blackeye for Arizona if this band of outlaws is not apprehended. You don'tthink, do you, that they will do Mr. West any harm, if their price is notpaid? They would never dare."
He took this up almost as though he resented it. "They would dareanything. I reckon you'll have to get up early in the mornin' to find agamer man than Black MacQueen."
"I wouldn't call it game to hurt an old man whom he has in his power. Butyou mustn't let it come to that. You must save him. Are you making anyprogress? Have you run down any of the band? And while I think of it--haveyou seen to-day's paper?"
"No--why?"
"The biggest story on the front page is about the West case. It seems thatthis MacQueen wired to Chicago to Mr. Lucas, president of one of the lineson the Southwestern system, that they would release Mr. West for threehundred thousand dollars in gold. He told him a letter had been mailed tothe agent at Mesa, telling under just what conditions the money was to beturned over; and he ended with a threat that, if steps were taken tocapture the gang, or if the money were not handed over at the specifiedtime, Mr. West would disappear forever."
"Did the paper say whether the money would be turned over?"
"It said that Mr. Lucas was going to get into touch with the outlaws atonce, to effect the release of his chief."
A gleam of triumph flashed in the eyes of the man. "That's sure the bestway."
"It won't help your reputation, will it?" she asked. "Won't people saythat you failed on this case?"
He laughed softly, as if at some hidden source of mirth. "I shouldn'twonder if they did say that Bucky O'Connor hadn't made good this time.They'll figure he tried to ride herd on a job too big for him."
Her surprised eye brooded over this, too. Here he was defending the outlawchief, and rejoicing at his own downfall. There seemed to be no end to thecontradictions in this man. She was to run across another tang
led threadof the puzzle a few minutes later.
She had dismounted to let him tighten the saddle cinch. Owing to the heat,he had been carrying his coat in front of him. He tossed it on a boulderby the side of the trail, in such a way that the inside pocket hung down.From it slid some papers and a photograph. Melissy looked down at thepicture, then instantly stooped and picked it up. For it was a photographof a very charming woman and three children, and across the bottom of itwas written a line.
"To Bucky, from his loving wife and children."
The girl handed it to the man without a word, and looked him full in theface.
"Bowled out, by ginger!" he said, with a light laugh.
But as she continued to look at him--a man of promise, who had plainlytraveled far on the road to ruin--the conviction grew on her that thesweet-faced woman in the photograph was no loving wife of his. He was aman who might easily take a woman's fancy, but not one to hold her lovefor years through the stress of life. Moreover, Bucky O'Connor held therespect of all men. She had heard him spoken of, and always with a meed ofaffection that is given to few men. Whoever this graceless scamp was, hewas not the lieutenant of rangers.
The words slipped out before she could stop them: "You're not LieutenantO'Connor at all."
"Playing on that string again, are you?" he jeered.
"I'm sure of it this time."
"Since you know who I'm not, perhaps you can tell me, too, who I am."
In that instant before she spoke, while her steady eyes rested on him, sheput together many things which had puzzled her. All of them pointed toone conclusion. Even now her courage did not fail her. She put it intowords quietly:
"You are that villain Black MacQueen."
He stared at her in surprise. "By God, girl--you're right. I'm MacQueen,though I don't know how you guessed it."
"I don't know how I kept from guessing it so long. I can see it, now, asplain as day, in all that you have done."
After that they measured strength silently with their eyes. If thesituation had clarified itself, with the added knowledge of the girl hadcome new problems. Let her return to Mesa, and he could no longer pose asO'Connor; and it was just the audacity of this double play that delightedhim. He was the most reckless man on earth; he loved to take chances. Hewanted to fool the officers to his heart's content, and then jeer at themafterward. Hitherto everything had come his way.
But if this girl should go home, he could not show his face at Mesa; andthe spice of the thing would be gone. He was greatly taken with herbeauty, her daring, and the charm of high spirits which radiated from her.Again and again he had found himself drawn back to her. He was not in lovewith her in any legitimate sense; but he knew now that, if he could seeher no more, life would be a savorless thing, at least until his fancy hadspent itself. Moreover, her presence at Dead Man's Cache would be asafeguard. With her in his power, Lee and Flatray, the most persistent ofhis hunters, would not dare to move against the outlaws.
Inclination and interest worked together. He decided to take her back withhim to the country of hidden pockets and gulches. There, in time, he wouldwin her love--so his vanity insisted. After that they would slip away fromthe scene of his crimes, and go back to the world from which he had yearssince vanished.
The dream grew on him. It got hold of his imagination. For a moment he sawhimself as the man he had been meant for--the man he might have been, ifhe had been able to subdue his evil nature. He saw himself respected, apower in the community, going down to a serene old age, with this womanand their children by his side. Then he laughed derisively, and brushedaside the vision.
"Why didn't the real Lieutenant O'Connor arrive to expose you?" sheasked.
"The real Bucky is handcuffed and guarded at Dead Man's Cache. I don'tthink he's enjoying himself to-day."
"You're getting quite a collection of prisoners. You'll be starting apenitentiary on your own account soon," she told him sharply.
"That's right. And I'm taking another one back with me to-night."
"Who is he?"
"It's a lady this time--Miss Melissy Lee."
His words shook her. An icy hand seemed to clamp upon her heart. The bloodebbed even from her lips, but her brave eyes never faltered from his.
"So you war on women, too!"
He gave her his most ironic bow. "I don't war on you, my dear. You shallhave half of my kingdom, if you ask it--and all my heart."
"I can't use either," she told him quietly. "But I'm only a girl. If youhave a spark of manliness in you, surely you won't take me a prisoneramong those wild, bad men of yours."
"Those wild, bad men of mine are lambs when I give the word. They wouldn'tlift a hand against you. And there is a woman there--the mother of one ofmy boys, who was shot. We'll have you chaperoned for fair."
"And if I say I won't go?"
"You'll go if I strap you to your saddle."
It was characteristic of Melissy that she made no further resistance. Thesudden, wolfish gleam in his eyes had told her that he meant what he said.It was like her, too, that she made no outcry; that she did not shed tearsor plead with him. A gallant spirit inhabited that slim, girlish body; andshe yielded to the inevitable with quiet dignity. This surprised himgreatly, and stung his reluctant admiration. At the same time, it set herapart from him and hedged her with spiritual barriers. Her body mightride with him into captivity; she was still captain of her soul.
"You're a game one," he told her, as he helped her to the saddle.
She did not answer, but looked straightforward between her horse's ears,without seeing him, waiting for him to give the word to start.
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