Laramie Holds the Range

by Frank H. Spearman

  CHAPTER XLIII

  THE LAST CALL

  The canny Scot knew well what the message meant. With littleostentation and much celerity he hurried up street. Belle, at her,door with Kate, drawn-faced, could only say that Laramie had promisedto come there before starting. "Warn him," was McAlpin's excited word."You know Van Horn, Belle."

  Red-faced and heated, McAlpin ambled rapidly in and out of every placewhere he could imagine Laramie might be. Deathly afraid of runninginto Van Horn--who bore him, he well knew, no love--but doggedly benton his errand, McAlpin asked fast questions and spread the rapid-firenews as he traveled. More than once he had word of Laramie, yetnowhere could he, in his exasperation, set eyes on him. How nearly hesucceeded in his mission he never knew till he had failed.

  Laramie had completed his dispositions and was free, after a briefround of errands, to start north, when Carpy encountered him in theharness shop next to the drug store. Laramie was in haste. But Carpyinsisted he must speak with him and, against protest, took him by wayof the back door of the shop over to the back door of the drug storeand into the little room behind the prescription case.

  The doctor sat down and motioned Laramie, despite his impatience, to achair: "It won't take long to tell you what I've got to tell you," saidCarpy, firmly, "but you'll be a long time forgetting it. And the timeyou ought to know it is now.

  "Jim!" Carpy, facing him four feet away, looked squarely intoLaramie's eyes. "I know you pretty well, don't I? All right! I'mgoing to talk pretty plain. You're going to marry Kate Doubleday.Whatever her father's faults--and they've been a-plenty--they'd best belet lie now. That's what Kate would want, I'm thinkin'--that's whather husband would want--anyway, her children would want it. Barb,after he deserted Kate's mother, went out into the Black Hills. He gotinto trouble there--a partnership scrape. I don't know how much or howlittle he was to blame; but his partner got the best of him and Barbshot him.

  "The partner's friends had the pull. Barb was sentenced formanslaughter. He broke away the night he was sentenced. He came outinto this country, took his own name again, got into railroad building,made money, lost it, and went into cattle.

  "Two men here know this story. I'm one; the other is Harry Van Horn.He lived in the Hills when this happened. He wouldn't tell because hewanted Kate.

  "Jim, if Van Horn comes in alive, he'll be tried for this job on Barb.He'll plead self-defense and spring the Black Hills story. Van Hornhas done his best to kill you and hired Stone to do it. You and Kateought to know why. It's up to you whether he comes in alive andblackens her father's name to get even with both of you. Now startalong, Jim--that's all."

  Laramie did not rise.

  For himself he cared nothing. But he cared for Kate. And though shehad little reason to care for her father, and the tragedy of a recordsuch as his was not a pleasant memory for any daughter; how much morewould she suffer if his record were exposed by one whose interest itwould be to blacken it?

  "I said that was all," continued Carpy; "it ain't quite all, either.Van Horn will swear everything in this Falling Wall raid on old Barb tomake feeling against him--it'll be a mess."

  Laramie's eyes were fixed on the floor. When he raised them he spokethoughtfully: "I see what you mean, Doctor. I'll talk plain, too--asyou'd want me to, I know. No one can tell till it's over how a manhunt is going to work out. But whatever my feelings are, there'ssomething else I've got to think about. You're leaving it out. Nomatter what stories have been told about me, my record up to this, isclear. I've never in my life shot down a man except in self-defense.I couldn't begin by doing it now. You know what I've stood from thesecattlemen in the last year----"

  "Why," demanded Carpy, "did you do it?"

  "Why did Kate Doubleday shun me like a man with the smallpox? Becausethey put it up to her I was a man-killer. When they couldn't make meout a rustler, they made me out a gambler. When they couldn't make meout a thief, they made me out a gunman. I had a fine reputation tolive down; and all of it from her own father and his friends--whatcould you expect a girl to do?

  "I won out against the bunch. I couldn't have done it without playingstraight. It's too late for me to switch my game now. I'd hate to seemore grief heaped on Kate. And Van Horn doesn't deserve any show. Butif his hands go up--though I never expect to see Harry Van Horn's handsover his head--I can't do it, Doctor, that's all there is to it--he'llcome in alive as far as anything I have to do with it."

  Carpy laughed cynically: "Jim," he exclaimed with an affectionatestring of abuse, "you're the biggest fool in all creation. It's allright." The doctor opened the door of the little room as Laramie rose."Go 'long," he said roughly, "but bring back your legs on their ownpower."

  Laramie passed around from behind the prescription case where the clerkwas filling an order, and, busily thinking, walked rapidly toward theopen front door. A little girl waiting at the rear counter piped athim. "How d' do, Mr. Laramie!" It was Mamie McAlpin. He stopped topinch her cheek. "I don't know you any more, Mamie. You're gettingsuch a big girl." Passing her, he stepped into the afternoon sunshinethat flooded the open doorway.

  The threshold of the door was elevated, country-store fashion, six orseven inches above the sidewalk. Laramie glanced up street anddown--as he habitually did--and started to step down to the walk. Itwas only when he looked directly across to the opposite side of thestreet, lying in the afternoon shadow, that he saw, standing in anarrow open space between two one-story wooden store buildings, a mancovering him with a revolver.

  At the very instant that Laramie saw him, the man fired. Laramie wasstepping down when the bullet struck him. Whirled by the blow, hestaggered against the drugstore window. Instinctively he reached forhis revolver. It hung at his left hip. But struggling to righthimself he found that his left arm refused to obey. When he tried toget his hand to the grip of his revolver he could not, and the man,seeing him helpless, darted from his hiding place out on the sidewalkand throwing his gun into balance, fired again.

  It was Van Horn. Before the second shot echoed along the street adozen men were out. Not one of them could see at that moment a chancefor Laramie's life; they only knew he was a man to die hard, anddying--dangerous. In catching him at the moment he was stepping down,Van Horn's bullet, meant for his heart, had smashed the collar boneabove it and Laramie's gun arm hung useless.

  Realizing his desperate plight, he flung his smashed shoulder towardhis enemy. As the second bullet ripped through the loose collar of hisshirt, he swung his right arm with incredible dexterity behind him,snatched his revolver from its holster, and started straight across thestreet at Van Horn.

  It looked like certain death. Main Street, irregular, is at that pointbarely sixty feet wide. Perfectly collected, Van Horn trying to fellhis reckless antagonist, fired again. But Laramie with deadly purposeran straight at him. By the time Van Horn could swing again, Laramiehad reached the middle of the street and stood within the covetedshadow that protected Van Horn. In that instant, halting, he whippedhis revolver suddenly up in his right hand, covered his enemy and fireda single shot.

  Van Horn's head jerked back convulsively. He almost sprang into theair. His arms shot out. His revolver flew from his hand. He reeled,and falling heavily across the board walk, turned, shuddering, on hisface. The bullet striking him between the eyes had killed himinstantly.

  Twenty men were running up. They left a careful lane between the mannow standing motionless in the middle of the street and his proneantagonist. But Laramie knew too well the marks of an agony such asthat--the clenching, the loosing of the hands, the last turn, therelaxing quiver. He had seen too many stricken animals die.

  Limp and bleeding, overcome with the horror of what he had not beenable to avert, he walked back to his starting point and sat down on theedge of the sidewalk. His revolver had been tucked mechanically intothe waistband of his trousers. Men swarming into the street crowdedabout. Carpy, agitated, tore open his
bloody shirt.

  Laramie put up his right hand: "I'm not damaged much, doctor," he saidslowly and looking across the street. "See if you can do anything forhim."

  While he spoke, the tremor of a woman's voice rang in his half-dazedears--a woman trying to reach him. "Oh! where is he?"

  Men at the back of the crowd cried to make way. The half circle beforeLaramie parted. He sprang to his feet, held out his right arm, andKate with an inarticulate cry, threw herself sobbing on his breast.

  CHAPTER XLIV

  TENISON SERVES BREAKFAST

  "I'm telling you, Sawdy," expostulated McAlpin, in the manner of anultimatum, "I'm a patient man. But you've got to get out of that room."

  Sawdy stood a statue of dignity and defiance: "And I'm telling you, HopScotch, I'll get out of that room when I get good and ready."

  "A big piece of ceiling came down last night," thundered McAlpin.

  Belle was listening; these sparks were flying at her gate: "Whateveryou do," she interjected contemptuously, "don't get a quarrel goingover that room."

  McAlpin, inextinguishable, turned to Belle: "Look at this: Henry Sawdygets into that bathtub. He turns on the water. He goes to sleep.Every few weeks the ceiling falls on my new pool tables. First andlast, I've had a ton of mortar on 'em. If there was any pressure, I'dbe ruined."

  "If there was any pressure," interposed Sawdy, "I wouldn't go to sleep.Do you know how long it takes to fill your blamed tub?"

  McAlpin in violent protest, scratched the gravel with his hobnailedshoes: "I'll ask you: Am I responsible for the pressure, or the watercompany?" Sawdy undisturbed, continued to stroke his heavy mustache."The water it takes to cover you, Henry," sputtered McAlpin, "would runa locomotive from here to Medicine Bend."

  "I have to wait till everybody in town goes to bed before I can get adew started on the faucet," averred Sawdy. "Sometimes I have to set upall night to take a bath. Look at the unreasonableness of it, Belle,"he went on indignantly. "I'm paying this Shylock a dollar and a half aweek for my room--and most of the time, no water."

  McAlpin ground his teeth: "No water!" was all he could echo, doggedly.

  "Do you know what this row is about, Belle?" demanded Sawdy. "He'strying to screw me up to a dollar seventy-five for the room. Andeverybody on the second floor using my bathtub," continued Sawdy,calmly.

  "_Your_ bathtub," gasped McAlpin. "Well, if you could get title to itby sleeping in it, it surely would be your tub, Sawdy."

  "I don't want your blamed room any longer, anyway," declared Sawdy."I'm going to get married."

  McAlpin started: "Henry, don't make a blamed fool o' yoursel'."

  "I said it," retorted Sawdy, waving him away. "Move on."

  "I've had no notice," announced McAlpin, raising his hand. "You'll payme my rent to the first of the year. You rented for the full year,Henry, remember that!" With this indignant warning, McAlpin startedfor the barn.

  Sawdy followed Belle into the house. He threw his hat on theliving-room table: "Sit down, Belle," he said recklessly. "I want totalk."

  Belle was suspicious. "What about?" she demanded. "You can't roomhere, I'll tell you that."

  "Now hold your horses a minute--just a minute. Sit down. I know whena thing needs sugar, don't I? You know when it needs salt, don't you?Why pay rent in two places? That's what I want to know. Let's hitchup."

  "Stop your foolishness."

  "My foolishness has got me stopped."

  "If you expect to eat supper here tonight, stop your noise."

  "Honor bright!" persisted Sawdy, "what do you say?"

  Belle took it up with Kate: "With him and John Lefever both nagging atme what can I do?" she demanded, greatly vexed. "I've got to marry afat man anyway I fix it."

  When Lefever learned Belle's choice had fallen on his running mate hewas naturally incensed: "I've been jobbed all 'round," he declared atTenison's. "First, Jim sends me up to the Reservation on a wild-goosechase after his two birds and bags 'em both himself within gunshot oftown. Then my own partner beats me home by a day and cops off Belle.Blast a widower, anyway. He'll beat out an honest man, every time.Anyway, boys, this town is dead. Everything's getting settled uparound here. I'm sending my resignation in to Farrell Kennedy todayand I'm going to strike out for new country."

  "Not till I get married, John," said Laramie, when John repeated thedire threat. "And Kate wants a new foreman up at the ranch. You knowher father's turned everything over to her."

  "What'll she pay?"

  "More than you're worth, John. Don't worry about that!"

  Some diplomacy was needed to restore general good feeling, but all wasmanaged. From the men, John got no sympathy. The women were moreconsiderate; and when Kate and Belle threatened there would be nodouble wedding unless John stood up with the party, he bade them goahead with the "fixings."

  The breakfast at the Mountain House, Harry Tenison's personalcompliment to the wedding party, restored John Lefever quite to hisbubbling humor. It was a brave company that sat down. And ademocratic one, for despite feminine protests it numbered at thedifferent tables pretty much every friend of Laramie's, in the highcountry, including John Frying Pan--only the blanket men from theReservation were excluded. Lefever acted as toastmaster.

  "Jim," he demanded, addressing Laramie in genial tones, when everythingwas moving well, "just what in your eventful career do you most prideyourself on?"

  Laramie answered in like humor. "Keeping out of jail," he retortedlaconically.

  "Been some job, I imagine," suggested Lefever cheerily.

  "At times, a man's job."

  "But you're not dead yet," persisted Lefever.

  "I'm married--that's just as good."

  "Why, Jim!" protested his bride with spirit.

  "I mean," explained Laramie, looking unabashed at Kate, "I'm looking toyou now to keep me out."

  The boisterous features of similar Sleepy Cat celebrations were omittedin deference to Kate's feelings and the too recent tragedies: herfather still lay in the hospital.

  But her guests were agreed that she looked very happy over her newhusband. The tell-tale glow not wholly to be suppressed in her frankeyes; the unmanageable pink that rose even to her temples and playeddefiantly under her brown hair curling over them; the self-consciousrestraint of her voice and the sense of guilt bubbling up, every timeshe laughed--these were all "sign," plain as print to married men, likeMcAlpin and Carpy, and grounds for suspicion even to confirmedbachelors like John Lefever and the old priest that came down from theReservation to perform the ceremony; and in everyone of them theobserving read the trails that led to Kate's heart.

  Laramie, on the other hand, disgusted those that expected a stern andheroic showing. Towards the close of the breakfast he was laughingdeliriously at every remark, and looking dazed when an intelligentquestion was put at him; Harry Tenison pronounced it disedifying.

  But when the young couple swung into their saddles for the weddingtrip--their destination, naturally, a secret--criticism ceased.Laramie again looked his part; and those who had heard him pledge hislife to cherish and protect Kate, felt sure, as the two melted awayinto the glow of the sunset, that his word was good.