Shoe-Bar Stratton

by Joseph Bushnell Ames

  CHAPTER XXIX

  CREEPING SHADOWS

  With her back against the veranda pillar, Mary Thorne watched the group ofmounted men canter down the slope, splash across the creek, and filebriskly through the gate leading to middle pasture. Perhaps it would bemore accurate to say that, for the most part, her glance followed one ofthem, and when the erect, jaunty, broad-shouldered figure on the big roanhad disappeared, she gave a little sigh.

  "He looks better--much better," she murmured.

  Her eyes grew dreamy, and in her mind she saw again that little hiddencanyon with its overhanging ledge beneath which the man lay stretched outon his blankets. Somehow, the anxiety and suspense, the heart-breakingworry and weariness of that strange experience had faded utterly. Thereremained only a very vivid recollection of the touch of her hand againsthis damp forehead, the feeling of his crisp, dark hair as she pushed itgently back, the look of those long, thick lashes lying so still againsthis pallid face.

  Not seldom she had wished those fleeting moments might have beenprolonged. Once or twice she was even a little jealous of Bud Jessup'sministrations; just as, thinking of him now, she was jealous of hisconstant nearness to Buck and the manner in which he seemed so intently toshare all the other's plans and projects, and even thoughts.

  "Well, anyway," she said suddenly aloud, "I'm glad Stella's not here."

  Then, realizing that she had spoken aloud, she blushed and looked hastilyaround. No one was in sight, but a moment or two later Mrs. Archerappeared on the veranda.

  "I thought I heard voices a little while ago," she said, glancing around."Have the men come back?"

  Mary turned to meet her. "No, dear. That was the--the sheriff and some ofhis men."

  "The sheriff!" An expression of anxiety came into Mrs. Archer's pretty,faded face. "But what has happened? What--?"

  "I'm not quite sure; they had no time to explain." The girl put an armreassuringly around the older woman's shoulder. "But they're after Tex andthe other hands. They've done something--"

  "Ha!" In any other person the sound would have seemed suspiciously like acrow of undisguised satisfaction. "Well, I'm thankful that at lastsomebody's shown some common sense."

  "Why, auntie!" Astonished, the girl held her off at arm's length andstared into her face. "You don't mean to say you've suspected--?"

  Mrs. Archer sniffed. "Suspected! Why, for weeks and weeks I've beenperfectly certain the creature was up to no good. You know I never trustedhim."

  "Yes; but--"

  "The last straw was his bringing that ridiculous charge against BuckGreen," Mrs. Archer interrupted with unexpected spirit. "That stamped himfor what he was; because a nicer, cleaner, better-mannered young man I'veseldom seen. He could no more have stolen cattle than--than I could."

  A mental picture of her tiny, delicate, fragile-looking aunt engaged inthat strenuous and illicit operation brought a momentary smile to MaryThorne's lips. Then her face grew serious.

  "But you know I didn't believe it--really," she protested. "I offered tokeep him on if he'd only assure me he wasn't here for any--any secretreason. But he wouldn't, and at the time there seemed nothing to do butlet him go."

  "I suppose he might have had some other private reason than stealingcattle," commented Mrs. Archer.

  "He had," returned Mary, suppressing a momentary sense of annoyance thather aunt had shown the greater faith. "As nearly as I can make out, he washere to shadow Tex. As a matter of fact he really wanted to leave theranch and work from a different direction, so it turned out all right inthe end. He thinks it was Tex himself who secretly instigated thecattle-stealing."

  "The villain!" ejaculated Mrs. Archer energetically. "But wherehas--er--Buck been all this time? Where is he now?"

  The girl smiled faintly. "He was here a little while ago. He and Bud areboth with the sheriff's posse. They believe the men are heading for themountains and have gone after them."

  Mrs. Archer glanced sharply at her niece, noted a faint flush on thegirl's face, and pursed her lips.

  "When are they coming back?" she asked, after a little pause.

  Mary shrugged her shoulders. "Not until they catch them, I suppose."

  "Which certainly won't be to-night. I'm rather surprised at Buck. It seemsto me that he ought to have stayed here to look after things, instead ofrushing off to chase outlaws."

  "It wasn't his fault," defended Mary quickly. "He thought Alf and Stellawere here."

  "Alf and Stella! Good gracious, child! How could he, when they left fourdays ago?"

  "He didn't know that. He took it for granted they were still here, and Ilet him think so. They needed him to guide the posse, and I knew if I toldhim, he'd insist on staying behind. After all, dear, there's nothing forus to worry about. It'll be a bit lonesome to-night, but--"

  "Worry! I'm not worrying--about myself." Mrs. Archer regarded her niecewith a curiously keen expression that seemed oddly incongruous in thatdelicate fragile-looking face. "I'm not blind," she went on quickly. "I'venoticed what's been going on--the wretch! You're afraid of him, too, I cansee, and no wonder. I wish somebody had stayed--Still, we must make thebest of it. What are you going to do about the stock?"

  "Feed them," said Mary laconically, quelling a little shiver that wentover her. "Let's go and do it now."

  Together they walked around to the corral, where Mary forked down some hayfor the three horses, and filled the sunken water-barrel from the tank.Already shadows were creeping up from the hollows, and the place seemedvery still and deserted.

  In the kitchen the sense of silent emptiness was even greater, accustomedas they were to the constant presence of Pedro and his wife. The two womendid not linger longer than was necessary to fill a tray with supper, whichthey carried into the living-room. Here Mary closed the door, lit twolamps, and touched a match to the wood piled up in the big fireplace.

  "It'll make things more cheerful," she remarked with an attempt atcasualness which was not altogether successful. "I don't see why weshouldn't heat some water here and make tea," she added with suddeninspiration.

  Mrs. Archer, who liked her cup of tea, made no objections, and Mary sprangup and went back to the kitchen. Filling a saucepan from the pump, she gotthe tea-caddy out of a cupboard, and then paused in the middle of theroom, staring out into the gathering dusk.

  Neither doors nor windows in the ranch-house were ever locked, and, saveon really cold nights, they were rarely even closed. But now, of a sudden,the girl felt she would be much more comfortable if everything were shutup tight, and setting down the pan and caddy on the table, she went overto the nearest window.

  It looked out on the various barns and sheds clustered at the back of theranch-house. The harness-room occupied the ground floor of the nearestshed, with a low, seldom-entered loft above, containing a single, narrowwindow without glass or shutters.

  As Mary approached the open kitchen window, herself invisible in theshadows of the room, a slight sense of movement in that little squareunder the eaves of the shed roof drew her glance swiftly upward. To herhorror she caught a momentary glimpse of a face framed in the narrowopening. It vanished swiftly--far too swiftly to be recognized. Butrecognition was not necessary. The mere knowledge that some one was hiddenin the loft--had probably been hidden there all along--turned the girlcold and instantly awakened her worst fears.