CHAPTER XXI
JUSTICE AT HEART'S DESIRE
_The Story of a Sheriff and Some Bad Men; showing also a Day's Work,and a Man's Medicine_
"Dad, you've been drinking!" burst out Constance as her father met herat the door of Curly's house. She had heard footsteps, and hastened tomeet the visitor. Perhaps it was disappointment, perhaps indignationwith herself that she had listened, that she had waited, which causedher to greet her parent with such asperity.
"You wrong me, daughter!" protested Mr. Ellsworth, solemnly; "only tookone or two little ones, to celebrate the saving of the twin. You'vemade a great hit with those people over there. They'd all celebrate,if there was anything to drink. I had to stock the Lone Star myselfout of my valise. They won't have anything in till Tom Osby comes.
"I say," he resumed, taking his daughter's arm with genial gallantry asthey stepped out into the sunlight together, "these people are not sobad. They're warming up right along now. If you and I could stay hereawhile, we'd get along with 'em all right--better understanding allaround."
Her face brightened. "Then you don't give up the railroad?"
"No; by no means. I never give up a thing I want. Besides, I wouldn'tmind coming here to live for a while. The climate's glorious."
"You live here? You'd look well in a wide hat and a blue shirt,wouldn't you, dad?"
"More irreverence! Of course I'd look well. And it's worth somethingto eat the way I do here. I'm getting better every day. Why, theytell me no one has died out here in a hundred years. A man can eatanything from cactus to sole leather, and keep hearty. I saw a lot offellows over there just now, sitting flat on the ground in the sun outin the middle of the street, eating dried beef and canned tomatoes, andthey looked so happy that I sat down and took a bite with them. Theyare just travelling through,--sheriff's party from somewhere, goingsomewhere after somebody."
"What's that, Mr. Ellsworth?" the woman from Kansas came out andinquired; for she knew better than he what that meant. "Sheriff? Washe a tall, slim man, longish mustache, sorter thin?"
Ellsworth nodded; the woman wiped her hands on her blue-checked apron.Constance glanced at her serious face, and wondered.
"Then it's Ben Stillson," the woman from Kansas said, "the sheriff ofBlanco. He's after somebody. Did he summons any of our men along?"
"I don't know, madam," answered Ellsworth. The woman said no more; sheonly watched and listened.
It was this posse, headed by the sheriff of Blanco, that Dan Andersonand the Littlest Girl saw when they reached a point midway betweenUncle Jim Brothers's hotel and the post-office. The little group ofriders, dusty and travel-stained, had come at a steady trot down thestreet. Stillson, tall, grim-featured, and bronzed, looked neither tothe right nor to the left. He stopped, and ordered his men to dismountand eat. They swung out of their saddles without a word, loosening thecinches to breathe their horses. The men of Heart's Desire began togather around them.
"What's up, Ben?" asked McKinney, the one most apt to be concerned; forcow men had borne the brunt of outlawry in that land for more than ageneration. "Has Chacon come across from Arizona, or has the Kid brokeout again?"
The sheriff looked at him gravely. "The Kid's out," said he. "We hadhim and two others at Seven Rivers, but he broke out four days ago. Hekilled the jailer and a couple of Mexicans farther up the river.There's four in his bunch now, and we've trailed them this far.They're likely headed for Sumner. We dropped in here, across thePatos, to get a couple of men or so. How are you fixed here?"
"Wait till I get a Winchester," said McKinney, briefly, and starteddown the street.
"Whiteman," Doc Tomlinson volunteered, "you 'tend to my drug storewhile I'm away, and if anybody wants any drugs, you go get 'em."
"You all hold on a minute," said Curly, hurrying forward, "while I runover home and git saddled up." He did not see the Littlest Girlapproaching, but the sheriff did.
"Never mind, Curly," said the sheriff, quietly, pointing to her. "Iwant one more man, a single man."
"You, Curly!" interrupted his spouse, "you stay right where you are.You get some one else, Mr. Stillson. He's got a family, and besides,he's _such_ a fool."
Curly flushed. "Was it _my_ fault I got married?" he began hotly."And them twins, was they mine, real? Now look here--" But thesheriff shook his head. He looked at Dan Anderson inquiringly.
"Certainly I'll go," said he. "Wait till I get fixed."
"That's as many as I'll need," said Stillson. "Hurry up, all of you."
Dan Anderson hastened across the _arroyo_ to his house, first askingCurly to get him a horse. Curly departed to his own home with theLittlest Girl; so that Constance presently got fuller news of thearrival of the sheriff's party, and learned also that Dan Anderson wasto join them.
"But, Curly," cried Constance, "isn't it dangerous? Won't some one gethurt?" She winced. The steady flame of her own brave heart flickeredat this new terror.
"_Kin savvy_?" grinned Curly. "The Kid's gang shore'll fight. A goodmany fellers has got hurt goin' after him. But what you goin' to do?Let 'em steal all the cows they want, and kill everybody they feellike?"
"That's work for the officers," insisted Constance.
"There ain't no police out here," Curly replied, "and not sherfs enoughto go around; so a feller sorter has to go when he's asked. They won'tlet me, because I got twins--though they ain't mine. But, now, I'vegot to take this here horse over to Dan Anderson." He mounted and rodeaway.
It was Dan Anderson himself who presently came at a gallop across the_arroyo_. A heavy revolver swung at his hip, a rifle rested in thescabbard under his leg, and a coat was rolled behind his saddle,plainsman fashion. Constance noted these details, but passed them inher eagerness and pleasure that he should come at least to say good-by.Something of the joy faded from her eyes as he approached. She hadseen his face wear this same expression before,--fierce, eager,forgetful of all but a purpose.
He did not smile. He stooped from his saddle and grasped her hand. Helooked squarely into her eyes, but said no word of salutation orfarewell. He did not look back, as upon the instant, he whirled andgalloped away! For her there were to be yet more days of waiting; forhim the relief of action and of danger.
That afternoon Tom Osby drove into town from the northern trail. Mr.Ellsworth welcomed him and his rude vehicle as the first feasible meansof getting back to Sky Top. By noon of the following day they werewell upon their way, leaving behind them problems enough unsolved, andbreaking touch with pending events which might cut short all problemsfor at least one loyal heart. It was a sad and silent Constance wholooked back and said good-by to the rambling street of Heart's Desire,lying in the sun empty, empty!
As for the sheriff of Blanco and his men, they trotted on steadilytoward the northeast, hour after hour. They crossed the Patos divide,and a few miles beyond took up the trail of their quarry, at the pointwhere Stillson had earlier left it. This they followed rapidly,crossing wide plains of sage brush and cactus throughout the day. Theyslept in their saddle-blankets that night, and were up and off again bydawn for the second day of steady travel. There were seven men in theposse, three besides Stillson from the Seven Rivers country, employeesof the cow men on the Pecos,--slim, brown, thin-featured fellows, whotalked little either in the saddle or at the bivouac fire by night.
The second night out they spent by a water hole in the desert; and onthe morning of the third day they ran into their game, earlier thanthey had expected. The sheriff, riding in advance, suddenly pulled upat the crest of a low ridge which they were ascending, and came backmotioning to his men to remain under cover.
"That's the Pinos Altos ranch house just ahead," he explained, "andthere's smoke coming out of it. Old Frazee's friendly enough with theKid, and more'n likely the bunch has stopped in there to get somethingto eat. Hold on a little till I have a look." He took a pair offield-glasses from his saddle, and crawling to the top of the ridge laye
xamining the situation.
"It's them, all right," he said when he returned. "I know some of thehorses. It's the Kid and about three others. They are all saddledup--probably stopped in to cook a meal. We'll get 'em sure. Now, allof you hitch back here, and crawl around to the _arroyo_ below, there.That'll put us within a hundred yards or so of the house."
Each man, dismounting, hitched his horse, then quietly ran over thecylinder of his revolver, blew the dust out of the rear sight of hisWinchester, tested the magazine, and cleared the breech action. Thisdone, each crept to the place assigned to him. Dan Anderson foundhimself moving mechanically, dully, with a strange absence ofexcitement. He almost felt himself looker-on at what other men weredoing.
For some time Stillson lay behind a little bush at the edge of thegully, peering critically at the house, from which came nothing toindicate that their approach had been discovered. At length, without aword, he slowly raised his short-barrelled rifle and fired. One of thehorses hitched to the beam above the door stumbled forward and sankacross the opening, blocking it. The bullet had caught it at the buttof the ear, and it fell stone dead, its neck bent up by the shortenedrein.
In response, without a word of parley, a thin cloud of smoke gushed outof the only window facing the attack. Puffs of sand arose along thefront of the _arroyo_, searching out each little bush top which mightpossibly offer cover. Stillson heard a smothered spat and a shortsound, and turned his head quickly. He saw Jim Harbin, one of the boysfrom the lower range, turn over with a sigh, and lie with arms spreadout. He had been shot straight through the neck. Dan Anderson, theman nearest to him, drew him back. He would have raised the head ofthe wounded man, but the choking warned him. Harbin lay out on hisback, looking up, his breath gurgling in his throat. "No use," hewhispered thickly. "Leave me alone. I've got to take my medicine."In ten minutes he was dead.
The day's work went on. The sheriff fired three or four moredeliberate shots, but finally turned around. At each shot, the otherhorse tied to the beam sprang back.
"Can't you hit it?" grinned McKinney.
"I don't want to kill the horse," said Stillson; "I know that horse,and it's a good one. I want to turn it loose. Here you, Anderson, canyou see that rope from where you are? Shoot it off, if you can, closeup to the beam."
Dan Anderson, in spite of Stillson's hasty warning to keep down, roseat full height at the edge of the cover, and took a deliberate off-handshot. They saw him whirl half around, and look down at his left arm;but as he dropped lower, he rested his rifle on a bit of sage brush,and fired once more. With a snort the horse, which had been pullingback wildly on its lariat, now broke free and went off, saddled as itwas.
"Good shot!" commented the sheriff. "That'll about put 'em on foot.What, did they get you?"
Dan Anderson drew back from the crest and rolled up his shirt-sleeveabove an arm now wet with blood. A bullet had cut through the upperarm above the elbow.
"Serves you mighty near right," called McKinney to him, "standing up,like a blamed fool! You suppose them fellers can't shoot, same as us?"
Doc Tomlinson crawled over to him and examined the hurt. "It's allright," said he. "Bone ain't touched. Let me tie her up."
A half hour passed without further firing. Stillson edged around tothe point nearest the house. "Here you, Kid," he called out. "Come onout. We've got you on foot, and you might as well give up."
A dirty rag was thrust out of a window at the end of a rifle-barrel."That you, Ben?" called a muffled voice from the adobe.
"You know it is, Kid. Drop it, and come on out. We've got you sure."
The day's work was over. Dan Anderson remembered afterward how matterof fact and methodical it all had seemed. A few moments later a short,dirty young man appeared at the door, crawling over the prostratehorse. He held up his hands, grinning. He was followed by two others,both chewing tobacco calmly. The sheriff ordered down his men to meetthem. McKinney unbuckled the belts. The captives seated themselves afew feet apart on the ground.
"This all the men you've got?" asked the Kid.
The sheriff nodded. "You've killed Jim Harbin," he added, jerking athumb toward the _arroyo_.
"Why didn't he stay home, then?" said the Kid, peevishly. No oneseemed disposed again to mention an unpleasant subject.
"Where you goin' to take us?" the Kid inquired.
"Vegas. It's a United States warrant, and you go dead or alive, eitherway you want."
"Oh, that's all right, Ben. We'll take the chance of stayin' alive awhile."
Stillson now appeared to experience his first concern in regard to hiscasualties. "Doc," said he, "you take the ranch wagon here and carryJim back to the settlements. You go along, Anderson. Doc, you drive."
"You busted up our breakfast," said the Kid, in an aggrieved tone."Don't we eat?" He spoke complainingly. The day's work was thusconcluded.
It was a long ride back for Dan Anderson, lying part of the timehimself prone at the bottom of the wagon, too faint to sit with comforton the narrow, jolting seat. The long, muffled body of the dead man,wrapped tightly in its blankets, at times rolled against him as thewagon tilted, and he pushed it back gently. The day's work had beensavage, stern, and simple. The lesson of the landscape, the lesson oflife, came to him as he had never felt it before. He saw now howlittle a thing is life, how easy to lay down--gayly, bitterly, lightly,or quietly perhaps; but not cheaply. He remembered the last words ofthe boy who now lay there, shrouded and silent,--"I've got to take mymedicine."
"It's not a question of being happy," thought Dan Anderson, "but ofdoing your work, and taking your medicine."
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