CHAPTER XIII
THE BEARDING OF JAKE
That night was one that lived long in Tresler's memory. Weary in mindand body, he was yet unable to sleep when at last he sought his bunk.His head was racked with excruciating pain, which hammered through hisbrain with every pulsation of his throbbing temples. But it was notthat alone which kept him awake. Thought ran riot with him, and hismind flew from one scene to another without concentration, withoutcontinuity, until he felt that if sleep did not come he must go mad.
He had talked late into the night with his shrewd counselor, Joe; andthe net result of their talk was that all their theories, suspicions,deductions, were wrong. Jake and Red Mask were not one and the same.In all probability Jake had nothing to do with the ruffianly raider.
They were driven to this ultimate conclusion by the simple fact thatwhile Tresler had been witnessing the movements of the maskednight-rider, Joe had been zealously dogging the footsteps of theforeman in the general interests of his mistress. And thatindividual's footsteps had never once taken him to the rancher'sprivate stable.
Jake had evidently been out on the spy himself. Of this Joe wascertain, for the man had scoured the woods in the direction of theriver; he had watched the trail from the rancher's stable for nearlyhalf an hour; he had crept up to the verandah of the house under coverof the darkness, seeking Joe knew not what, but always on the alert,always with the unmistakable patience of a man by no means new to sucha task. Once Joe had missed him in the woods. Somehow, like a giganticshadow, Jake had contrived to give him the slip. And this, oncomparing notes, the two friends found coincided with the time of theepisode of the unclosed window. Doubtless he had been the author ofthat matter. They made up their minds that he had witnessed the scenein the kitchen, which, of course, accounted for his later dastardlyattack. Who had Jake been out looking for? What was the object of hisespionage? Had he been looking for him, Tresler, or some one else? Andherein lay the mystery. Herein, perhaps, lay the key to the greaterproblem they sought to solve.
Hour after hour Tresler lay awake, lost in a confusion of thoughtwhich refused his best efforts to straighten out. The acuteness of thepain in his head set his mind almost wandering. And he found himselfaimlessly reviewing the events since his coming to Mosquito Bend. Hetossed wearily, drearily, on his unyielding palliasse, driven to arealization of his own utter impotence. What had he done in the causehe had espoused? Nothing--simply nothing. Worse; he had thrust himselflike some clumsy, bull-headed elephant, into the girl's life, into themidst of her troubles, without even that animal's capacity forattaining his object by sheer might. And the result was only toaggravate her lot; to cause Jake to hasten his plans, and add threatsto his other persecutions. And as for the raiders, they were still atlarge and no nearer capture than when he had first arrived. Yes, hetold himself, he had nothing but failure to his account. And thatfailure, instead of being harmlessly negative, was an aggravation ofthe situation.
But at last, miserable, overwrought, and suffering as he was, sleepcame to him; a deep sleep that carried him far into the morning.
He had been left undisturbed by his comrades when they turned out atdaybreak. Joe had seen to this. He had put them off with an inventionof his fertile imagination which satisfied them. Then, having hurriedthrough his own immediate morning duties, he waited, with thatphilosophic patience which he applied now in his declining years toall the greater issues of his life, for his friend's awakening.
And when Tresler awoke he was wonderfully refreshed. His recuperativefaculties were remarkable. The aching of his head had passed away, andwith it the deplorable hopelessness of overnight. He sat up on hisbunk, and the first object that his gaze fell upon was the patientfigure of old Joe.
"Well--Scott! it's late. What's the time? Where are the boys? What areyou doing here?"
He fired his questions rapidly. But Joe was not to be hurried; neitherwas he going to waste precious time on unnecessary talk. So heshrugged his shoulders and indicated the departure of the men to workwith a backward jerk of his head, and, while Tresler performed hisbrief toilet, got to business in his own way.
"Feelin' good?" he asked.
"Fair."
"Goin' right up to see Jake?"
"Yes. Where is he?"
"In his shack. Say," the old man shifted uneasily, "I've tho't acrateful sence we wus yarnin' last night, I guess. Don't git shuvin'Jake too close agin the wall. Give him your yarn easy. Kind o' talkhan'some by him. He's goin' to figger this thing out fer us. He'll gitgivin' us a lead, mebbe, when he ain't calc'latin' to. Savee?"
Tresler didn't answer at once; in fact, he didn't quite see the oldman's point. He completed his toilet by buckling on his belt andrevolver. Then he prepared to depart.
"We'll see. I intend to be governed by circumstances," he saidquietly.
"Jest so. An' circumstances has the way o' governin' most things,anyways. Guess I'm jest astin' you to rub the corners off'n themcircumstances so they'll run smooth."
Tresler smiled at the manner of the old man's advice, which was plainenough this time.
"I see. Well, so long."
He hurried out and Joe watched him go. Then the little man rose fromhis seat and went out to Teddy Jinks's kitchen on the pretense ofyarning. In reality he knew that the foreman's hut was in full viewfrom the kitchen window.
Tresler walked briskly across to the hut. He never in his life feltmore ready to meet Jake than he did at this moment. He depended on theoutcome of this interview for the whole of his future course. He didnot attempt to calculate the possible result. He felt that to do sowould be to cramp his procedure. He meant to work on his knowledge ofhis rival's character. Herein lay his hopes of success. It was Joe whohad given him his cue. "It's the most dangerousest thing to hit a'rattler' till you've got him good an' riled," the little man had oncesaid. "Then he lifts an' it's dead easy, I guess. Hit him lyin', an'ef you don't kill him, ther's goin' to be trouble. Them critters has away of thinkin' hard an' quick or'nary." And Tresler meant to dealwith Jake in a similar manner. The rest must be left to thecircumstances they had discussed.
It so happened that Jake, too, was late abed that morning. Treslerfound him just finishing the breakfast Jinks had brought him. Jake'ssurly "Come in," in response to his knock, brought him face to facewith the last man he desired to see in his hut at that moment. AndTresler almost laughed aloud as the great man sprang from the table,nearly overturning it in his angry haste.
"It's all right, Jake," he said with a smile, "I come in peace."
And the other stood for a moment eyeing him fiercely, yet not knowingquite how to take him. Without waiting for an invitation his visitorseated himself on the end of the bunk and stared back squarely intothe angry face. It did him good, as he remembered the events of thenight before, to thus beard this man who hated him to the point ofmurder.
He waited for Jake to reply; and while his gaze wandered over thecruel, intolerant, overbearing face he found himself speculating as tothe caste of that which lay hidden beneath the black, coarse mat ofbeard.
At last the reply came, and he had expected no better.
"What in h---- are you doin' here?" Jake asked brutally. Then, as anafterthought, "Why ain't you out on the range?"
Tresler permitted himself to lounge over on his elbow and cross hislegs with an aggravating air of ease.
"For much the same reason that you are only just finishing your grub.I overslept myself."
And he watched Jake choke back the furious retort that suddenly leaptto his lips. It was evident, even to the intolerant disposition of theforeman, that it was no time for abuse and anger. This man had come tohim for some particular purpose, and it behooved him to keep guard onhimself. The doings of the night before were in his mind, and herealized that it would be well to meet him coolly. Therefore, insteadof the outburst so natural to him, he contented himself with a coolsurvey of his antagonist, while he put a non-committing inquiry.
"Wal?"
And Tresler kn
ew that his presence was accepted, and that he hadscored the first point. At once he assumed a businesslike air. He satup and generally displayed a briskness quite out of keeping with hisformer attitude.
"I suppose I ought to apologize for my intrusion," he began, "but whenyou have heard my story, you will understand its necessity. I had abusy night last night."
If he had expected any effect from this announcement he wasdisappointed. Jake's face never for a moment relaxed its grim look ofattention.
"Yes," he went on, as the foreman remained silent. "Theseraiders--this Red Mask, or whatever he is called--I saw him lastnight. I saw him here on this ranch."
Jake stirred. He eyed his companion as though he would read himthrough and through.
"You saw--Red Mask--last night?" he said slowly.
"Yes. I saw him and one of his satellites."
"Go on." It was all the man vouchsafed, but it spoke volumes.
And Tresler at once proceeded with his story of the midnight visit ofthe masked rider and his companion. He told his story in as few wordsas possible, being careful to omit nothing, and laying a slight stresson his own rambling in the neighborhood of the house. He was verycareful to confine himself to the matter of the apparition, avoidingall allusion to the further happenings of the night. When he hadfinished, which he did without any interruption from the other, Jakespoke with quiet appreciation.
"An' you've brought the yarn to me. For any partic'lar reason?"
Tresler raised his eyebrows. "Certainly," he replied. "You are foremanof the ranch. Mr. Marbolt's interests are yours."
"That being so, I'd like to know what you were doing around the houseat that hour of the night?" was Jake's prompt retort.
Tresler had looked for this. He knew perfectly well that Jake did notexpect his question to be answered. Didn't particularly want itanswered. It was simply to serve a purpose. He was trying to draw him.
"That is my affair, Jake. For the moment, at least, let us setpersonalities on one side. No doubt we have accounts to settle. I mayas well say at once we are in each other's debt. But this matter I amspeaking of is of personal interest to everybody around the district."
All the time he was speaking, Tresler was watching for the smallestchange in Jake's manner. And as he went on his appreciation of thefellow's capability rose. He realized that Jake was, after all,something more than a mass of beef and muscle. As no comment wasforthcoming he went on rapidly.
"Now, last night's apparition was not altogether new to me. I saw thesame thing the first night I arrived on the ranch, but, being 'green'at the time, it lost its significance. Now, it is different. It needsexplaining. So I have come to you. But I have not come to you withouthaving considered the matter as fully as it is possible for one in myposition to do. Mark me carefully. I have weighed all the details ofRed Mask's raids; considered them from all points. Time and place,distance, the apparitions around the ranch, for those ghostly visitorshave, at times, been seen in the neighborhood by others. And all thesethings so tally that they have produced a conviction in my mind thatthere is a prime mover in the business to be found on this ranch."
"An' the prime mover?" Jake's interest had in no way relaxed. Heseemed to be eager to hear everything Tresler could tell him. Thelatter shrugged.
"Who is there on this ranch that cannot at all times be accounted for?Only one man. Anton--Black Anton."
A pause ensued. Tresler had played a high card. If Jake refused to bedrawn it would be awkward. The pause seemed endless and he was forcedto provoke an answer.
"Well?" he questioned sharply.
"Well," echoed the foreman; and the other noted the quiet derision inhis tone, "seems to me you've done a deal of figgering."
Tresler nodded.
Jake turned away with something very like a smile. Evidently he haddecided upon the course to be pursued. Tresler, watching him, couldnot quite make up his mind whether he was playing the winning hand, orwhether his opponent was finessing for the odd trick. Jake suddenlybecame expansive.
"I'd like to know how we're standin' before we go further," he said;"though, mind you, I ain't asking. I tell you candidly I ain't got nouse for you, and I guess it would take a microscope to see youraffection for me. This bein' so, I ask myself, what has this fellercome around with his yarn to me for? I allow there's two possiblereasons which strike me as bein' of any consequence. One is that,maybe, some'eres in the back of your head, you've a notion that I knowa heap about this racket, and sort o' wink at it, seein' Marbolt'sblind, an' draw a bit out of the game. And the other is, you'rehonest, an' tryin' to play the game right. Now, I'll ask you not toget plumb scared when I tell you I think you're dead honest about thisthing. If I didn't--wal, maybe you'd be lit out of this shack by now."
Jake reached over to the table and picked up a plug of tobacco andtore off a chew with his great strong teeth. And Tresler could nothelp marveling at the pincher-like power with which he bit through theplug.
"Now, Tresler, there's that between us that can never let us befriends. I'm goin' to get level with you some day. But just now, asyou said, we can let things bide. I say you're honest in this thing,and if you choose to be honest with me I'll be honest with you."
One word flashed through Tresler's brain: "finesse."
"I'm glad you think that way, Jake," he said seriously. "My object isto get to the bottom of this matter."
It was a neat play in the game, the way in which these two smoothedeach other down. They accepted each other's assurances with thesuavity of practiced lawyers, each without an atom of credence or goodfaith.
"Just so," Jake responded, with a ludicrous attempt at benignity. "An'it's due to the fact that you've been smart enough to light on theright trail, that I'm ready to tell you something I've been holding upfrom everybody, even Marbolt himself. Mind, I haven't got the dead-gutcinch on these folk yet, though I'm right on to 'em, sure. Anton,that's the feller. I've tracked him from the other side of the line.His real name's 'Tough' McCulloch, an' I guess I know as much as thereis to be known of him an' his history, which is pretty rotten. He'swanted in Alberta for murder. Not one, but half a dozen. Say, shall Itell you what he's doin'? He rides out of here at night, an' joins agang of scallywag Breeds, like himself, an' they are the crowd thathave been raiding all around us. And Anton--well, I'd like to gamblemy last dollar he's the fellow wearing the Red Mask. Say, I knew hewas out last night. He was out with two of the horses. I was around.An' at daylight I went up to the stable while he was sleepin', an' thedog-gone fool hadn't cleaned the saddle marks from their backs. Now,if you're feeling like bearin' a hand in lagging this blackson-of-a---- I'm with you fair an' square. We won't shake hands, forgood reasons, but your word'll go with me."
"Nothing would suit me better."
Tresler was struggling to fathom the man's object.
"Good. Now we'll quietly go up to the stable. Maybe you can tell if ahorse has been recently saddled, even after grooming?"
"Yes."
"Then I'll show you. An' mind, Marbolt hasn't ordered one of hisprivate horses out. Nor ain't Miss Diane. It's Anton."
He rose and prepared to depart, but Tresler stayed him.
"One moment, Jake," he said. "I don't wish to give offense, but tellme why, if you have discovered so much about Anton, have you let thesethings go on so long? Think of the murder of Manson Orr, of Arizona'swound, of the dozen and one outrages of which even I am aware."
Jake stood silently contemplating him for a while. Nor was there anysign of his swift anger. He smiled faintly, and again Tresler notedthe nasty tone of derision in his voice when he answered.
"I thought maybe you'd learnt a deal out here where you find everybodyon their own. I thought you'd p'r'aps learned that it ain't wise toraise trouble till you've got the business end of your gun pointin'right. Can't you see there's not a cent's worth of evidence againstthe man yet? Have you ever heard where he runs his cattle? Hasanybody? Has any one ever seen under that mask? Has any one been foundwho could id
entify even his figure? No. Red Mask is a will-o'-the-wisp.He's a ghost; and it's our business to find the body o' that ghost.I'm not the fool to go around to Anton and say, 'You are Red Mask.'He'd laugh in my face. An' later on I guess I'd be targettin' a shotfor him. What if I rounded to the gove'nor an' got him fired? It wouldbe the worst possible. Keepin' him here, and lying low, we have achance of puttin' him out of business. No, sir, we're dealin' with thesmartest crook west of Chicago. But I'll have him; we'll get him. Inever was bested yet. An' I'll have him, same as I get any other guythat crosses me. Let's get on."
They moved out of the hut.
"It's been taking you some time, already," Tresler suggested with asmile, as they moved across the open.
Jake took no umbrage. His dark face responded with a sardonic grin,and his eyes were fiercely alight.
"Tchah!" he ejaculated impatiently. "Say, you never heard tell of afeller gettin' his own good, an' gettin' it quick. Cattle-thievesain't easy handlin', an' I don't jump till I'm riled."
Tresler made no answer, and the two reached the stable withoutexchanging another word. Inside they found Anton at work, cleaningharness. He looked up as they came in, and Tresler eyed him with arenewed interest. And the man's face was worth studying. There was nosmile, no light in it, and even very little interest. His smooth,tawny skin and aquiline features, his black hair and blacker eyes, intheir dark setting, had a devilish look to Tresler's imagination. Heeven found himself wondering where the good looks he had observed whenthey met before had vanished to. Jake nodded to him and passed intoBessie's stall at once.
"This is the mare, Tresler, the dandiest thing ever bred on thisranch. Look at her points. See the coat, its color. Red roan, withlegs as black as soot. Say, she's a picture. Now I guess she'd fetch acouple of hundred dollars away down east where you come from."
He said all this for Anton's benefit while he smoothed his hand overBessie's back. Tresler followed suit, feeling for the impression ofthe saddle-cloth in the hair. It was there, and he went on inspectingthe legs, with the air of a connoisseur. The other saddle-horse theytreated in the same way, but the drivers were left alone. For someminutes they stood discussing the two animals and then passed outagain. Anton had displayed not the least interest in their doings,although nothing had escaped his keen, swift-moving eyes.
Once out of ear-shot Jake turned to Tresler.
"Wal?"
"The horses have both been saddled."
"Good. Now we've got the thing plumb located. You heard them gassin'at the stable. You heard 'em slam the door. You saw the two comealong. An' one of 'em must have been Anton. Leastways he must have let'em have the hosses. I guess that's an alternative. I say Anton was upon one of them hosses, an' the other was some gorl durned Breed mateof his. Good. We're goin' right on to see the governor."
"What to do?" asked Tresler.
"To give him your yarn," Jake said shortly.
They were half-way to the house when the foreman suddenly halted andstared out over the lower ranch buildings at the distant pastures.Tresler was slightly behind him as he stood, and only had a sight ofthe man's profile. He did not seem to be looking at any particularobject. His attitude was one of thoughtful introspection. Treslerwaited. Things were turning out better than he had hoped, and he hadno wish but to let the arbiter of the situation take his own way. Hebegan to think that, whatever Jake's ulterior object might be, he wasin earnest about Anton.
At last his companion grunted and turned, and he saw at once that theartificial comradeship of his manner had lifted, and the "Jake" he hadalready learned to understand was dominant again. He saw the vicioussetting of the brows, the fiery eyes. He quite understood thatself-control was the weakest side of this man's character, and couldnot long withstand the more powerful bullying nature that swayed him.
"I asked you a question back there," he said, jerking his head in thedirection of his hut, "an' you said it was your affair; an' we'd bestlet personalities stand for the moment. I'd like an answer before wego further. You reckon to be honest, I guess. Wal, now's your chance.Tell me to my face what I've learned for myself. What were you doin'round here last night? What were you doin' in Marbolt's kitchen?"
Tresler understood the motive of the man's insistence now. Jake wasshowing him a side of his character he had hardly suspected. It wasthe human nature in the man asking for a confirmation of his worstfears, in reality his worst knowledge. For he was well aware that Jakehad witnessed the scene in the kitchen.
"As I said before, it is my affair," he responded, with an assumptionof indifference. "Still, since you insist, you may as well know firstas last. I went to see Miss Diane. I saw her----"
"An'?" There was a tense restraint in the monosyllable.
Tresler shrugged. "Miss Marbolt is my promised wife."
There was a deathly silence after his announcement. Tresler looked outover the ranch. He seemed to see everything about him at once; evenJake was in the strained focus, although he was not looking at him.His nerves were strung, and seemed as though they were held in a vice.He thought he could even hear the sound of his own temples beating. Hehad no fear, but he was expectant.
Then Jake broke the silence, and his voice, though harsh, was low; itwas muffled with a throatiness caused by the passion that moved him.
"You'll never marry that gal," he said.
And Tresler was round on him in an instant, and his face was alightwith a cold smile.
"I will," he said.
And then Jake moved on with something very like a rush. And Treslerfollowed. His smile was still upon his face. But it was there of itsown accord, a nervous mask which had nothing to do with the thoughtspassing behind it.
The Night Riders: A Romance of Early Montana Page 13
