Brand Blotters

by William MacLeod Raine

  CHAPTER VI

  IN DEAD MAN'S CACHE

  Not since the start of their journey had Melissy broken silence, save toanswer, in few words as possible, the questions put to her by the outlaw.Yet her silence had not been sullenness. It had been the barrier which shehad set up between them--one which he could not break down short of actualroughness.

  Of this she could not accuse him. Indeed, he had been thoughtful of hercomfort. At sunset they had stopped by a spring, and he had shared withher such food as he had. Moreover, he had insisted that she should restfor a while before they took up the last stretch of the way.

  It was midnight now, and they had been traveling for many hours over roughmountain trails. There was more strength than one would look for in soslender a figure, yet Melissy was drooping with fatigue.

  "It's not far now. We'll be there in a few minutes," MacQueen promisedher.

  They were ascending a narrow trail which ran along the sidehill throughthe timber. Presently they topped the summit, and the ground fell awayfrom their feet to a bowl-shaped valley, over which the silvery moonshineplayed so that the basin seemed to swim in a magic sea of light.

  "Welcome to the Cache," he said to her.

  She was surprised out of her silence. "Dead Man's Cache?"

  "It has been called that."

  "Why?"

  She knew, but she wanted to see if he would tell a story which showed soplainly his own ruthlessness.

  He hesitated, but only for a moment.

  "There was a man named Havens. He had a reputation as a bad man, and Ireckon he deserved it--if brand blotting, mail rustling, and shootingcitizens are the credentials to win that title. Hard pressed on account ofsome deviltry, he drifted into this country, and was made welcome by thoseliving here. The best we had was his. He was fed, outfitted, and kept safefrom the law that was looking for him.

  "You would figure he was under big obligations to the men that did thisfor him--wouldn't you? But he was born skunk. When his chance came heoffered to betray these men to the law, in exchange for a pardon for hisown sneaking hide. The letter was found, and it was proved he wrote it.What ought those men to have done to him, Miss 'Lissie?"

  "I don't know." She shuddered.

  "There's got to be law, even in a place like this. We make our own laws,and the men that stay here have got to abide by them. Our law said thisman must die. He died."

  She did not ask him how. The story went that the outlaws whom the wretchedman had tried to sell let him escape on purpose--that, just as he thoughthe was free of them, their mocking laughter came to him from the rocks allaround. He was completely surrounded. They had merely let him run into atrap. He escaped again, wandered without food for days, and againdiscovered that they had been watching him all the time. Turn whicheverway he would, their rifles warned him back. He stumbled on, growing weakerand weaker. They would neither capture him nor let him go.

  For nearly a week the cruel game went on. Frequently he heard their voicesin the hills about him. Sometimes he would call out to them pitifully toput him out of his misery. Only their horrible laughter answered. When hehad reached the limit of endurance he lay down and died.

  And the man who had engineered that heartless revenge was riding besideher. He had been ready to tell her the whole story, if she had asked forit, and equally ready to justify it. Nothing could have shown her moreplainly the character of the villain into whose hands she had fallen.

  They descended into the valley, winding in and out until they camesuddenly upon ranch houses and a corral in a cleared space.

  A man came out of the shadows into the moonlight to meet them. InstantlyMelissy recognized his walk. It was Boone.

  "Oh, it's you," MacQueen said coldly. "Any of the rest of the boys up?"

  "No."

  Not a dozen words had passed between them, but the girl sensed hostility.She was not surprised. Dunc Boone was not the man to take second place inany company of riff-raff, nor was MacQueen one likely to yield thesupremacy he had fought to gain.

  The latter swung from the saddle and lifted Melissy from hers. As her feetstruck the ground her face for the first time came full into themoonlight.

  Boone stifled a startled oath.

  "Melissy Lee!" Like a swiftly reined horse he swung around upon his chief."What devil's work is this?"

  "My business, Dunc!" the other retorted in suave insult.

  "By God, no! I make it mine. This young lady's a friend of mine--or usedto be. _Sabe_?"

  "I _sabe_ you'd better not try to sit in at this game, my friend."

  Boone swung abruptly upon Melissy. "How come you here, girl? Tell me!"

  And in three sentences she explained.

  "What's your play? Whyfor did you bring her?" the Arkansan demanded ofMacQueen.

  The latter stood balanced on his heels with his feet wide apart. There wasa scornful grin on his face, but his eyes were fixed warily on the otherman.

  "What was I to do with her, Mr. Buttinski? She found out who I was. CouldI send her home? If I did how was I to fix it so I could go to Mesa whenit's necessary till we get this ransom business arranged?"

  "All right. But you understand she's a friend of mine. I'll not have herhurt."

  "Oh, go to the devil! I'm not in the habit of hurting young ladies."

  MacQueen swung on his heel insolently and knocked on the door of a cabinnear.

  "Don't forget that I'm here when you need me," Boone told Melissy in a lowvoice.

  "I'll not forget," the girl made answer in a murmur.

  The wrinkled face of a Mexican woman appeared presently at a window.MacQueen jabbered a sentence or two in her language. She looked at Melissyand answered.

  The girl had not lived in Southern Arizona for twenty years without havinga working knowledge of Spanish. Wherefore, she knew that her captor hadordered his own room prepared for her.

  While they waited for this to be made ready MacQueen hummed a snatch of apopular song. It happened to be a love ditty. Boone ground his teeth andglared at him, which appeared to amuse the other ruffian immensely.

  "Don't stay up on our account," MacQueen suggested presently with amalicious laugh. "We're not needing a chaperone any to speak of."

  The Mexican woman announced that the bedroom was ready and MacQueenescorted Melissy to the door of the room. He stood aside with mockgallantry to let her pass.

  "Have to lock you in," he apologized airily. "Not that it would do you anygood to escape. We'd have you again inside of twenty-four hours. This bitof the hills takes a heap of knowing. But we don't want you running away.You're too tired. So I lock the door and lie down on the porch under yourwindow. _Adios, senorita._"

  Melissy heard the key turn in the lock, and was grateful for the respitegiven her by the night. She was glad, too, that Boone was here. She knewhim for a villain, but she hoped he would stand between her and MacQueenif the latter proved unruly in his attentions. Her guess was that Boonewas jealous of the other--of his authority with the gang to which theyboth belonged, and now of his relationship to her. Out of this divisionmight come hope for her.

  So tired was she that, in spite of her alarms, sleep took her almost assoon as her head touched the pillow. When she awakened the sun was shiningin at her window above the curtain strung across its lower half.

  Some one was knocking at the door. When she asked who was there, in avoice which could not conceal its tremors, the answer came in femininetones:

  "'Tis I--Rosario Chaves."

  The Mexican woman was not communicative, nor did she appear to besympathetic. The plight of this girl might have moved even an unresponsiveheart, but Rosario showed a stolid face to her distress. What had to besaid, she said. For the rest, she declined conversation absolutely.

  Breakfast was served Melissy in her room, after which Rosario led heroutdoors. The woman gave her to understand that she might walk about thecleared space, but must not pass into the woods beyond. To point the needof obedience, Rosario seated herself on t
he porch, and began doing somedrawn work upon which she was engaged.

  Melissy walked toward the corral, but did not reach it. An old hag wasseated in a chair beside one of the log cabins. From the color of her skinthe girl judged her to be an Indian squaw. She wore moccasins, a dirty andshapeless one-piece dress, and a big sunbonnet, in which her head wasburied.

  Sitting on the floor of the porch, about fifteen feet from her, was ahard-faced customer, with stony eyes like those of a snake. He was sewingon a bridle that had given way. Melissy noticed that from the pocket ofhis chaps the butt of a revolver peeped. She judged it to be the custom inDead Man's Cache to go garnished with weapons.

  Her curiosity led her to deflect toward the old woman. But she had nottaken three steps toward the cabin before the man with the jade eyesstopped her.

  "That'll be near enough, ma'am," he said, civilly enough. "This old cronehas a crazy spell whenever a stranger comes nigh. She's nutty. It ain'tsafe to come nearer--is it, old Sit-in-the-Sun?"

  The squaw grunted. Simultaneously, she looked up, and Miss Lee thoughtthat she had never seen more piercing eyes.

  "Is Sit-in-the-Sun her name?" asked the girl curiously.

  "That's the English of it. The Navajo word is a jawbreaker."

  "Doesn't she understand English?"

  "No more'n you do Choctaw, miss."

  A quick step crunched the gravel behind Melissy. She did not need to lookaround to know that here was Black MacQueen.

  "What's this--what's this, Hank?" he demanded sharply.

  "The young lady started to come up and speak to old Sit-in-the-Sun. I wasjust explaining to her how crazy the old squaw is," Jeff answered with agrin.

  "Oh! Is that all?" MacQueen turned to Melissy.

  "She's plumb loony--dangerous, too. I don't want you to go near her."

  The girl's eyes flashed. "Very considerate of you. But if you want toprotect me from the really dangerous people here, you had better send mehome."

  "I tell you they do as I say, every man jack of them. I'd flay one aliveif he insulted you."

  "It's a privilege you don't sublet then," she retorted swiftly.

  Admiration gleamed through his amusement. "Gad, you've got a sharp tongue.I'd pity the man you marry--unless he drove with a tight rein."

  "That's not what we're discussing, Mr. MacQueen. Are you going to send mehome?"

  "Not till you've made us a nice long visit, my dear. You're quite safehere. My men are plumb gentle. They'll eat out of your hand. They don'tinsult ladies. I've taught 'em----"

  "Pity you couldn't teach their leader, too."

  He acknowledged the hit. "Come again, dearie. But what's your complaint?Haven't I treated you white so far?"

  "No. You insulted me grossly when you brought me here by force."

  "Did I lay a hand on you?"

  "If it had been necessary you would have."

  "You're right, I would," he nodded. "I've taken a fancy to you. You're agood-looking and a plucky little devil. I've a notion to fall in love withyou."

  "Don't!"

  "Why not? Say I'm a villain and a bad lot. Wouldn't it be a good thing forme to tie up with a fine, straight-up young lady like you? Me, I like theway your eyes flash. You've got a devil of a temper, haven't you?"

  They had been walking toward a pile of rocks some little way from thecluster of cabins. Now he sat down and smiled impudently across at her.

  "That's my business," she flung back stormily.

  Genially he nodded. "So it is. Mine, too, when we trot in doubleharness."

  Her scornful eyes swept up and down him. "I wouldn't marry you if you werethe last man on earth."

  "No. Well, I'm not partial to that game myself. I didn't mentionmatrimony, did I?"

  The meaning she read in his mocking, half-closed eyes startled the girl.Seeing this, he added with a shrug:

  "Just as you say about that. We'll make you Mrs. MacQueen on the level ifyou like."

  The passion in her surged up. "I'd rather lie dead at your feet--I'drather starve in these hills--I'd rather put a knife in my heart!"

  He clapped his hands. "Fine! Fine! That Bernhardt woman hasn't got athing on you when it comes to acting, my dear. You put that across bully.Never saw it done better."

  "You--coward!" Her voice broke and she turned to leave him.

  "Stop!" The ring of the word brought her feet to a halt. MacQueen paddedacross till he faced her. "Don't make any mistake, girl. You're mine. Idon't care how. If it suits you to have a priest mumble words over us,good enough. But I'm the man you've got to get ready to love."

  "I hate you."

  "That's a good start, you little catamount."

  "I'd rather die--a thousand times rather."

  "Not you, my dear. You think you would right now, but inside of a weekyou'll be hunting for pet names to give me."

  She ran blindly toward the house where her room was. On the way she passedat a little distance Dunc Boone and did not see him. His hungry eyesfollowed her--a slender creature of white and russet and gold, vivid as ahillside poppy, compact of life and fire and grace. He, too, was amiscreant and a villain, lost to honor and truth, but just now she heldhis heart in the hollow of her tightly clenched little fist. Good men andbad, at bottom we are all made of the same stuff, once we are down to theprimal emotions that go deeper than civilization's veneer.