Shoe-Bar Stratton

by Joseph Bushnell Ames

  CHAPTER XXI

  WHAT MARY THORNE FOUND

  A few hundred yards away from the fence strung along the western side ofmiddle pasture, Mary Thorne pulled her horse down to a walk andstraightened her hat mechanically. Her cheeks were flushed becomingly andher eyes shone, but at the end of that sharp little canter much of thebrightness faded and her face clouded.

  For the last week or more it had grown increasingly difficult to keep up acheerful front and prevent the doubts and troubles which harassed her fromcausing comment. This morning she had reached the limit of suppression.Stella got on her nerves more than usual; Alf annoyed her with hissuperior air and those frequent little intimate mannerisms which, thoughunnoticed during all the years of their friendship, had lately growncuriously irksome to the girl. Even Mrs. Archer's calm placidity weighedon her spirits, and when that happened Mary knew that it was high time forher to get away by herself for a few hours and make a vigorous effort torecover her wonted serenity of mind.

  She told herself that she was tired and jaded, and that a solitary ridewould soothe her ragged nerves. And so, at the first opportunity afterbreakfast, she slipped quietly away, saddled her favorite horse, Freckles,and leaving word with Pedro that she would be back by dinner-time,departed hastily.

  It was rather curious behavior in a girl usually so frank and open, andfree from even a suspicion of guile, but she deliberately gave the Mexicanan impression that she was going to join the men down in south pasture,and as long as she remained within sight of the ranch-house she kept herhorse headed in that direction. Furthermore, before abruptly changing hercourse to the northwest, she pulled up and glanced sharply around to makecertain she was not observed.

  As a matter of fact one of the things which had lately puzzled andtroubled her was a growing impression of surveillance. Several times shehad surprised Pedro or his wife in attitudes which seemed suspiciously asif they had been spying. McCabe, too, and some of the other men wereinclined to pop up when she least expected them. Indeed, looking back onthe last two weeks she realized how very little she had been alone exceptin the close confines of the ranch-house. If she rode forth to inspect thework or merely to take a little canter, Tex or one of the punchers wasalmost sure to join her. They always had a good excuse, but equallyalways they were there; and though Mary Thorne had not the remotest notionof the meaning of it all, she had grown convinced that there must be somehidden motive beneath their actions, and the thought troubled her.

  Tex Lynch's altered manner gave her even greater cause for anxiety. Itwould have been difficult to put into words exactly where the change lay,but she was sure that there was a difference. Up to a short time ago shehad regarded him impersonally as merely an efficient foreman whom she hadinherited from her father along with the ranch. She did so still, but shecould not remain blind to the fact that the man himself was deliberatelystriving to inject a more intimate note into their intercourse. Hismethods were subtle enough, but Mary Thorne was far from dull, and thealteration in his manner made her at once indignant and a littlefrightened.

  "I suppose it's silly to feel that way, especially with Alf here," shemurmured as she reached the fence and swung herself out of the saddle."But I do wish I hadn't taken his word about--Buck Green."

  She took a small pair of pliers from her saddle-pocket and deftlyuntwisted the strands of wire from one of the posts, while Freckles lookedon with an expression of intelligent interest. When the gap was opened inthe fence, he walked through and waited quietly on the other side untilthe wire had been replaced. It was not the first time he had done thistrick, for the trail through the mountains was a favorite retreat of thegirl's. She had discovered it long ago, and returned to it frequently,through her own private break in the fence, especially on occasions likethis when she wanted to get away from everybody and be quite alone.

  Having remounted and headed northward along the edge of the hills, herthoughts flashed back to the discharged cow-puncher, and her browpuckered. The whole subject affected her in a curiously complicatedfashion. From the first she had been conscious of having done the youngman an injustice. And yet, as often as she went over their final interviewin her mind--which was not seldom--she did not see how she could have doneotherwise. Her woman's intuition told her over and over again that hecould not possibly be a common thief; but if this was so, why had herefused her the simple assurance she asked for?

  That was the stumbling-block. If he had only been frank and open, she feltthat she would have believed him, even in the face of Lynch's convictionof his guilt, though she was frank enough to admit that the foreman'sattitude would probably have influenced her much more strongly a week agothan it did at present. It was this thought which brought her mind aroundto another of her worries.

  Not only did she intensely dislike Lynch's present manner toward herself,but there had lately grown up in her mind a vague distrust of the mangenerally. She could not put her finger on anything really definite. Therewere moments, indeed, when she wondered if she was not a silly little foolmaking bogies out of shadows. But the feeling persisted, growing onunconsidered trifles, that Tex was playing at some subtle, secret game, ofthe character of which she had not even the most remote conception.

  "But if that's so--if he can't be trusted any longer," she said aloud,stung by a sudden, sharp realization of the gravity of such a situation,"what am I to do?"

  Of his own accord Freckles had turned aside into the little curveddepression in the cliffs and was plodding slowly up the trail. Staringblindly at the rough, ragged cliffs and peaks ahead of her, the girl wassuddenly overwhelmed by a feeling of helplessness. If Lynch failed her,what could she do? Whom could she turn to for help or even for counsel?There was Alf Manning, but Alf knew nothing whatever of range conditions,and besides neither he nor Stella expected to stay on indefinitely. Hermind ranged swiftly over other more or less remote possibilities, but savefor a few distant cousins with whom they had never been on intimateterms, she could think of no one. She even considered for a moment JimTenny of the Rocking-R, whom she had met and liked, or Dr. Blanchard, buta sudden reviving burst of spirit caused her quickly to dismiss thethought.

  "They'd think I was a silly, hysterical idiot," she murmured. "Why, Icouldn't even tell them what I was afraid of. I wonder if it can possiblybe just nerves? It doesn't seem as if--"

  She broke off abruptly and tightened on her reins. Freckles had carriedher over the summit of the trail and had almost reached the hollow on theother side, formed by the bottom of a gully that crossed the path. Maryhad once explored it and knew that to the left it deepened into a gloomygulch that hugged the cliff for some distance and then curved abruptly tothe south. So far as she knew, it led nowhere, and yet, to herastonishment, not a hundred feet away a saddled horse, with bridle-reinstrailing, stood cropping the leaves of a stunted mesquite.

  "That's funny," she said aloud in a low tone.

  As she spoke the horse threw up his head and stared at her, ears pointedinquiringly. When Freckles nickered, the strange animal gave an answeringwhinny, but did not move.

  Puzzled and a little nervous, Mary glanced sharply to right and leftamongst the scattered rocks. In her experience a saddled horse meant thatthe owner was not far away; but she could see no signs of any one, and atlength, taking courage from the silence, she rode slowly forward.

  As she came closer the horse backed away a foot or two and half turned,exposing a brand on his shoulder. The girl stared at it with a puckeredfrown, wondering what on earth any one from the Rocking-R was doing here.Then her glance strayed to the saddle, flittered indifferently over cantleand skirts, to pause abruptly, with a sudden keen attention, on the flapof the right-hand pocket, which bore the initials "R. S." cut with someskill on the smooth leather.

  With eyes widening, the girl bent forward, studying the flap intently. Shewas not mistaken; the initials _were_ R. S., and in a flash there cameback to her a memory of that afternoon, which seemed so long ago, when sheand Buck Green rode out together to t
he south pasture. She had noticedthose initials then on his saddle-pocket, and knowing how unusual it wasfor a cow-man to touch his precious saddle with a knife, she made somecasual comment, and learned how it had come into Buck's possession.

  What did it mean? What was _he_ doing here on a Rocking-R horse? Aboveall, where was he?

  Suddenly her heart began to beat unevenly and her frightened eyes stareddown the gulch to where an out-thrust buttress provokingly hid the greaterpart of it from view. Her glance shifted again to the horse, who stoodmotionless, regarding her with liquid, intelligent eyes, and for the firsttime she noticed that the ends of the trailing reins were scratched andtorn and ragged.

  How still the place was! She fumbled in her blouse, and drawing forth ahandkerchief, passed it mechanically over her damp forehead. Then abruptlyher slight figure straightened, and tightening the reins she urgedFreckles along the rock-strewn bottom of the gulch.

  The distance to the rocky buttress seemed at once interminable andincredibly short. As she reached it she held her breath and her teeth duginto her colorless lips. But when another section of the winding gorge laybefore her, silent, empty save for scattered boulders and a few scantybits of stunted vegetation, one small, gloved hand fluttered to herbreast, then dropped, clenched, against the saddle-horn.

  A rounded mass of rock, fallen in ages past from the cliffs above, blockedher path, and mechanically the girl reined Freckles around it. An instantlater the horse stopped of his own accord, and the girl found herselfstaring down with horror-stricken eyes at the body of a man stretched outon the further side of the boulders. Motionless he lay there, a longlength of brown chaps and torn, disordered shirt. His face was hidden inhis crooked arms; the tumbled mass of brown hair was matted with ominousdark clots. But in that single, stricken second Mary Thorne knew whom shehad found.

  "Oh!" she choked, fighting desperately against a wave of faintness thatthreatened to overwhelm her. "O-h!"

  Slowly the man's face lifted, and two bloodshot eyes regarded her dullythrough a matted lock of hair that lay stiffly plastered against hisforehead. With a curious, stealthy movement, one hand twisted back to hisside and fumbled there for an instant. Then the man groaned softly.

  "I forgot," he mumbled. "It's gone. You--you've got me this time, Ireckon."

  Face drained to paper-white and lips quivering, Mary Thorne slid out ofher saddle, steadied herself against the horse for a second, and thendropped on her knees beside him.

  "Buck!" she cried in a shaking voice. "You--you're hurt! What--what isit?"

  A puzzled look came into his face, and as he stared into the wide,frightened hazel eyes so close to his, recognition slowly dawned.

  "You!" he muttered. "What--How--"

  She twined her fingers together to stop their trembling. "I was ridingthrough the pass," she told him briefly. "I saw your horse and I--Iwas--afraid--"

  A faint gleam came into the bloodshot eyes. "My--my horse? You mean a--aRocking-R cayuse?"

  "Yes."

  He tried to sit up, but the effort turned him so white that the girl criedout protestingly.

  "You mustn't. You're badly hurt. I--I'll ride back for help." She sprangto her feet. "But first I must get you water."

  He stared at her as one regards a desert mirage. "Water!" he repeatedunbelievingly. "You know where--If you could--"

  A sudden moisture dimmed her eyes, but she winked it resolutely back."There's a little spring the other side of the trail," she explained. "Youlie quietly and I'll be back in just a minute."

  Stumbling in her haste, she turned and ran past the buttress and on towardthe trail. Not a hundred feet beyond, a tiny spring bubbled up in therocks, and dropping down beside it, the girl jerked the pins from her hatand let the cool water trickle into the capacious crown of the Stetson. Itseemed to take an eternity to fill, but at length the water ran over thebrim, and carefully guarding her precious burden, she hurried back again.

  The man was watching for her--eagerly, longingly, with an underlying touchof apprehensive doubt, as if he half feared to find her merely one ofthose dreamlike phantoms that had haunted him through the long, painfulhours. As the girl sank down beside him, there was a look in his eyes thatsent a strange thrill through her and caused her hands to tremble,sending a little stream of water trickling over the soggy hat-brim to theground.

  She steadied herself resolutely and bending forward held the hat againstBuck's lips. As he plunged his face into it and began to suck up the waterin great, famished gulps, the girl's lips quivered, and her eyes, restingon the matted tangle of dark hair, filled with sudden tears.