The Ridin' Kid from Powder River

by Henry Herbert Knibbs

  CHAPTER XXIV

  "A RIDER STOOD AT THE LAMPLIT BAR"

  Pete was surprised to find the darkened saloon cooler than the opendesert, even at dawn; and he realized, after glancing about, that TheSpider had closed the doors and windows during the night to shut outthe heat.

  "In here," said The Spider, opening the door back of the bar.

  Pete followed, groping his way into The Spider's room. He started backas a match flared. The Spider lighted a lamp. In the sudden soft glowPete beheld a veritable storehouse of plunder: gorgeous serapes fromOld Mexico--blankets from Tehuantepec and Oaxaca, rebosas of woven silkand linen and wool, the cruder colorings of the Navajo and Hopisaddle-blankets, war-bags and buckskin garments heavy with the beadworkof the Utes and Blackfeet, a buffalo-hide shield, an Apache bow andquiver of arrows, skins of the mountain lion and lynx, and hanging fromthe beam-end a silver-mounted saddle and bridle and above it a Mexicansombrero heavy with golden filigree.

  "You've rambled some," commented Pete.

  "Some. What's the matter with your head?"

  "Your friend Flores handed me one--from behind," said Pete.

  The Spider gestured toward a blanket-covered couch against the wall."Lay down there. No, on your face. Huh! Wait till I get some water."

  Pete closed his eyes. Presently he felt the light touch of fingers andthen a soothing coolness. He heard The Spider moving about the room.The door closed softly. Pete raised his head. The room was dark. Hethought of Malvey and he wondered at The Spider's apparent solicitude.He was in The Spider's hands--for good or ill . . . Sleep blotted outall sense of being.

  Late that afternoon he awoke to realize that there was some one in theroom. He raised on his elbow and turned to see The Spider gazing downat him with a peculiar expression--as though he were questioninghimself and awaiting an answer from some outside source.

  Pete stretched and yawned and grinned lazily. "Hello, pardner! I wasdreamin' of a friend of mine when I come to and saw"--Pete hesitated,sat up and yawned again--"another friend that I wa'n't dreamin' about,"he concluded.

  "What makes you think I'm your friend?" queried The Spider.

  "Oh, hell, I dunno," said Pete, rubbing the back of his head andgrinning boyishly. "But there's no law ag'in' my feelin' that way, isthere? Doggone it, I'm plumb empty! Feel like my insides had beentakin' a day off and had come back just pawin' the air to git to work."

  "Malvey's in town."

  Pete's mouth hardened, then relaxed to a grin.

  "Well, if he's as hungry as I am he ain't worryin' about me."

  "He's got your horse."

  "That don't worry me none."

  "I told Malvey to get your horse from you and set you afoot at Flores'."

  "And he sure made a good job of it, didn't he? But I don't sabe yourgame in hog-tyin' me down to Flores's place."

  "I figured you'd be safer afoot till you kind of cooled down."

  Pete tried to read The Spider's face, but it was as impersonal as thedesert itself. "Mebby you figured to hold me there till you was goodand ready to use me," said Pete.

  The Spider nodded.

  "Well, there's nothin' doin'. I ain't no killer or no hoss-thieflookin' for a job. I got in bad up north--but I ain't lookin' for nomore trouble. If Malvey and me lock horns--that's my business. Butyou got me wrong if you reckon I'm goin' to throw in with your outfit.I kin pay for what I eat a couple of times, anyhow. But I ain't hirin'out to no man."

  "Go back in the patio and Juan will get you some chuck," said TheSpider abruptly.

  "Which I'm payin' for," said Pete.

  "Which you're paying for," said The Spider.

  Following its usual course, the devil-wind died down suddenly at duskof the third day. A few Mexicans drifted into the saloon that eveningand following them several white men up from the border. Pete, who satin the patio where he could watch the outer doorway of the saloon,smoked and endeavored to shape a plan for his future. He was vaguelysurprised that a posse had not yet ridden into Showdown; for The Spiderhad said nothing of Houck and his men, and Pete was alert to thatcontingency, in that he had planned to slip quietly from the patio tothe corral at the back, in case they did ride in, estimating that hewould have time to saddle a horse and get away before they could searchthe premises, even if they went that far; and he doubted that theywould risk that much without The Spider's consent. Would The Spidergive such consent? Pete doubted it, not because he trusted The Spiderso much, but rather because the deliberate searching of premises by aposse would break an established precedent, observed in more than onedesert rendezvous. That simple and eloquent statement, "Go right aheadand search--but you'll search her in smoke," had backed down more thanone posse, as Pete knew.

  Already the monotony of loafing at The Spider's place had begun to wearon Pete, who had slept much for two days and nights, and he was itchingto do something. He had thought of riding down and across the borderand had said so to The Spider, who had advised him against it. Duringtheir talk Malvey's name was mentioned. Pete wondered why thatindividual had chosen to keep from sight so long, not aware that TheSpider had sent word to Malvey, who was at Mescalero's ranch, a fewmiles east of Showdown, that a posse from the Blue had ridden in andmight be somewhere in the vicinity.

  Little by little Pete began to realize that his present as well as hisfuture welfare depended on caution quite as much as upon sheer courage.Insidiously The Spider's influence was working upon Pete, who saw inhim a gambler who played for big stakes with a coldness andsoullessness that was amazing--and yet Pete realized that there wassomething hidden deep in The Spider's cosmos that was intensely human.For instance, when Pete had given up the idea of crossing the borderand had expressed, as much by his countenance as his speech, hisimperative need to be out and earning a living, The Spider had offeredto put him to work on his ranch, which he told Pete was of considerableextent, and lay just north of the national boundary and well out of theway of chance visitors. "Cattle"--The Spider had said--"and somehorses."

  Pete thought he knew about how that ranch had been stocked, and why itwas located where it was. But then, cattle-stealing was not confinedto any one locality. Any of the boys riding for the Blue or the Conchoor the T-Bar-T were only too eager to brand a stray calf and considerthat they were but serving their employer's interests, knowing thattheir strays were quite as apt to be branded by a rival outfit. So itwent among men supposed to be living under the law.

  The Spider's proffer of work was accepted, but Pete asserted that hewould not leave Showdown until he had got his horse.

  "I'll see that you get him," said The Spider.

  "Thanks. But I aim to git him myself."

  And it was shortly after this understanding that Pete sat in the patioback of the saloon--waiting impatiently for Malvey to show up, andhalf-inclined to go out and look for him. But experience had taughtPete the folly of hot-headed haste, so, like The Spider, he withdrewinto himself, apparently indifferent to the loud talk of the men in thesaloon, the raw jokes and the truculent swaggering, with theimplication, voiced loudly by one half-drunken renegade, that thestranger was a short-horn and naturally afraid to herd in with "thebunch."

  "He's got business of his own," said The Spider.

  "That's different. I 'poligish."

  The men laughed, and the bibulous outlaw straightway considered himselfa wit. But those who carried their liquor better knew that TheSpider's interruption was significant. The young stranger was playinga lone hand, and the rules of the game called for strict attention totheir own business.

  Presently a Mexican strode in and spoke to The Spider. The Spidercalled to a man at one of the tables. The noisy talk ceased suddenly."One," said The Spider. "From the south."

  Pete heard and he shifted his position a little, approximating thedistance between himself and the outer doorway. Card-games wereresumed as before when a figure filled the doorway. Pete's hand slidslowly to his hip. His fingers stiffened, then re
laxed, as he got tohis feet.

  It was Boca--alone, and smiling in the soft glow of lamplight. TheSpider hobbled from behind the bar. Some one called a laughinggreeting. "It's Boca, boys! We'll sure cut loose to-night! When Bocacomes to town the bars is down!"

  Pete heard--and anger and surprise darkened his face. These men seemedto know Boca too well. One of them had risen, leaving his card-game,and was shaking hands with her. Another asked her to sing "La Paloma."Even The Spider seemed gracious to her. Pete, leaning against thedoorway of the patio, stared at her as though offended by her presence.She nodded to him and smiled. He raised his hat awkwardly. Boca readjealousy in his eye. She was happy. She wanted him to care. "Ibrought your saddle, senor," she said, nodding again. The men laughed,turning to glance at Pete. Still Pete did not quite realize thesignificance of her coming. "Thanks," he said abruptly.

  Boca deliberately turned her back on him and talked with The Spider.She was hurt, and a little angry. Surely she had been his good friend.Was Pete so stupid that he did not realize why she had ridden toShowdown?

  The Spider, who had just learned why she was there, called to hisMexican, who presently set a table in the patio. Slowly it dawned onPete that Boca had made a long ride--that she must be tired and hungry.He felt ashamed of himself. She had been a friend to him when hesorely needed a friend. And of course these men knew her. No doubtthey had seen her often at the Flores rancho. She had brought hissaddle back--which meant that she had found the buckskin, riderless,and fearing that something serious had happened, had caught up the ponyand ridden to Showdown, alone, and no doubt against the wishes of herfather and mother. It was mighty fine of her! He had never realizedthat girls did such things. Well, doggone it! he would let her knowthat he was mighty proud to have such a pardner!

  The Spider hobbled to the patio and placed a chair for Boca, whobrushed past Pete as though he had not been there.

  "That's right!" laughed Pete. "But say, Boca, what made _me_ sore wasthe way them hombres out there got fresh, joshin' you and askin' you tosing, jest like they had a rope on you--"

  "You think of that Malvey?"

  "Well, I ain't forgittin' the way he--"

  Boca's eyes flashed. "Yes! But here it is different. The Spider, heis my friend. It is that when I have rested and eaten he will ask meto sing. Manuelo will play the guitar. I shall sing and laugh, for Iam no longer tired. I am happy. Perhaps I shall sing the song of 'TheOutlaw,' and for you."

  "I'll be listenin'--every minute, Boca. Mebby if I ain't jest_lookin'_ at you--it'll be because--"

  "Si! Even like the caballero of whom I shall sing." And Boca hummed atune, gazing at Pete with unreadable eyes, half-smiling, half-sad. Howyoung, smooth-cheeked, and boyish he was, as he glanced up and returnedher smile. Yet how quickly his face changed as he turned his headtoward the doorway, ever alert for a possible surprise. Boca pushedback her chair. "The guitar," she called, nodding to The Spider.

  Manuelo brought the guitar, tuned it, and sat back in the corner of thepatio. The men in the saloon rose and shuffled to where Boca stood,seating themselves roundabout in various attitudes of expectancy.Pete, who had risen, recalled The Spider's terse warning, and steppedover to the patio doorway. Manuelo had just swept the silver stringsin a sounding prelude, when The Spider, behind the bar, gestured toPete.

  "No, it ain't Malvey," said The Spider, as Pete answered his abruptsummons. "Here, take a drink while I talk. Keep your eye on thefront. Don't move your hands off the bar, for there's three men outthere, afoot, just beyond the hitching-rail. There was five, a minuteago. I figure two of 'em have gone round to the back. Go ahead--drinka little, and set your glass down, natural. I'm joshin' with you,see!"--and The Spider grinned hideously. "Smile! Don't make a breakfor the patio. The boys out there wouldn't understand, and Boca mightget hurt. She's goin' to sing. You turn slow, and listen. When yourback's turned, those hombres out there will step in." The Spiderlaughed, as though at something Pete had said. "You're mightysurprised to see 'em and you start to talk. Leave the rest to me."

  Pete nodded and lifted his glass. From the patio came the sound ofBoca's voice and the soft strumming of the guitar. Pete heard buthardly realized the significance of the first line or two of thesong--and then:

  "A rider stood at the lamplit bar, tugging the knot of his neckscarf loose, While some one sang to the silver strings, in the moonlight patio."

  It was the song of "The Outlaw." Pete turned slowly and faced thepatio. Manuelo swept the strings in a melodious interlude. Boca, hervivid lips parted, smiled at Pete even as she began to sing again.Pete could almost feel the presence of men behind him. He knew that hewas trapped, but he kept his gaze fixed on Boca's face. The Spiderspoke to some one--a word of surprised greeting. In spite of his holdon himself Pete felt the sweat start on his lip and forehead. He wascurious as to what these men would look like; as to whether he wouldknow them. Perhaps they were not after him, but after some of the menin the patio--

  "Annersley!"

  Pete swung round, his hands up. He recognized two of the men--deputiesof Sheriff Sutton of Concho. The third man was unknown to him.

  "You're under arrest for the killing of Steve Gary."

  "How's that?" queried The Spider.

  "Steve Gary. This kid shot him--over to the Blue. We don't want anytrouble about this," continued the deputy. "We've got a couple of menout back--"

  "There won't be any trouble," said The Spider.

  "No--there won't be any trouble," asserted Pete. "Gimme a drink,Spider."

  "No, you don't!" said the deputy. "You got too many friends outthere," and he gestured toward the patio with his gun.

  "Not my friends," said Pete.

  Boca's song ended abruptly as she turned from her audience to glance inPete's direction. She saw him standing with upraised hands--and infront of him three men--strangers to Showdown.

  Came the shuffling of feet as the men in the patio turned to see whatshe was staring at.

  "Sit still!" called The Spider. "This ain't your deal, boys. They gotthe man they want."

  But Boca, wide-eyed and trembling, stepped through the doorway.

  "That's close enough!" called a deputy.

  She paused, summoning all of her courage and wit to force a laugh."Si, senor. But you are mistaken. It is not that I care what you dowith _him_. I do but come for the wine for which I have asked, butthere was no one to bring it to me,"--and she stepped past the end ofthe bar into The Spider's room. She reappeared almost instantly with abottle of wine.

  "I will open that for you," said The Spider.

  "Never mind!" said one of the deputies; "the lady seems to know how."

  Boca took a glass from the counter. "I will drink in the patio with myfriends." But as she passed round the end of the bar and directlybeneath the hanging lamp, she turned and paused. "But no! I willdrink once to the young vaquero, with whom is my heart and my life."And she filled the glass and, bowing to Pete, put the glass to her lips.

  The deputy nearest Pete shrugged his shoulder. "This ain't a show."

  "Of a truth, no!" said Boca, and she swung the bottle. It shiveredagainst the lamp. With the instant darkness came a streak of red andthe close roar of a shot. Pete, with his gun out and going, leaptstraight into the foremost deputy. They crashed down. Staggering tohis feet, Pete broke for the outer doorway. Behind him the room was apit of flame and smoke. Boca's pony reared as Pete jerked the reinsloose, swept into the saddle, and down the moonlit street. He heard ashot and turned his head. In the patch of moonlight round The Spider'splace he saw the dim, hurrying forms of men and horses. He leanedforward and quirted the pony with the rein-ends.

  "Of a truth, no!" said Boca, and she swung the bottle.]

  Back in The Spider's place men grouped round a huddled something on thefloor. The Spider, who had fetched a lamp from his room, stooped andpeered into the upturned face of Boca. A dull,
black ooze spread andspread across the floor.

  "Boca!" he shrilled, and his face was hideous.

  "Did them coyotes git her?"

  "Who was it?"

  "Where's the kid?"

  The Spider straightened and held the lamp high. "Take her in there,"and he gestured toward his room. Two of the men carried her to thecouch and covered her with the folds of the serape which had slippedfrom her shoulders as she fell.

  "Say the word, Spider, and we'll ride 'em down!" It was "Scar-Face"who spoke, a man notorious even among his kind.

  The Spider, strangely quiet, shook his head. "They'll ride back here.They were after Young Pete. She smashed the lamp to give him a chanceto shoot his way out. They figured he'd break for the back--but hewent right into 'em. They don't know yet that they got her. And hedon't know it." He hobbled round to the back of the bar. "Have adrink, boys, and then I'm going to close up till--" and he indicatedhis room with a movement of the head.

  Young Pete, riding into the night, listened for the sound of runninghorses. Finally he pulled his pony to a walk. He had ridden north--upthe trail which the posse had taken to Showdown, and directly away fromwhere they were searching the desert for him. And as Pete rode, hethought continually of Boca. Unaware of what had happened--yet herealized that she had been in great danger. This worried him--anuncertainty that became an obsession--until he could no longer masterit with reason. He had ridden free from present hazard, unscratchedand foot-loose, with many hours of darkness before him in which toevade the posse. He would be a fool to turn back. And yet he did,slowly, as though an invisible hand were on his bridle-rein; forcinghim to ride against his judgment and his will. He reasoned, shrewdly,that the posse would be anywhere but at The Spider's place, just then.

  In an hour he had returned and was knocking at the door, surprised thatthe saloon was closed.

  At Pete's word, the door opened. The Spider, ghastly white in thelamplight, blinked his surprise.

  "Playin' a hunch," stated Pete. And, "Boca here?" he queried, as heentered.

  "In there," said The Spider, and he took the lamp from the bar.

  "What's the use of wakin' her?" said Pete. "I come back--I got ahunch--that somethin' happened when I made my get-away. But if she'sall right--"

  "You won't wake her," said The Spider, and his voice sounded strangeand far-away. "You better go in there."

  A hot flash shot through Pete. Then came the cold sweat of a dreadanticipation. He followed The Spider to where Boca lay on the couch,as though asleep. Pete turned swiftly, questioning with his eyes. TheSpider set the lamp on the table and backed from the room. Breathinghard, Pete stepped forward and lifted a corner of the serape. Boca'spretty mouth smiled up at him--but her eyes were as dead pools in thenight.

  The full significance of that white face and those dull, unseeing eyes,swept through him like a flame. "Pardner!" he whispered, and flunghimself on his knees beside her, his shadow falling across her head andshoulders. In the dim light she seemed to be breathing. Long he gazedat her, recalling her manner as she had raised her glass: "I drink tothe young vaquero, with whom is my heart--_and my life_."

  Dully Pete wondered why such things should happen; why he had not beenkilled instead of the girl, and which one of the three deputies hadfired the shot that had killed her. But no one could ever knowthat--for the men had all fired at him when the lamp crashed down--yethe, closer to them than Boca, had broken through their blunderingfusillade. He knew that Boca had taken a great risk--and that she musthave known it also. And she had taken that risk that he might win free.

  Too stunned and shaken to reason it out to any definite conclusion,Pete characteristically accepted the facts as they were as he thrustaside all thought of right or wrong and gave himself over to tearlessmourning for that which Boca had been. That dead thing with dark,staring eyes and faintly smiling lips was not Boca. But where was shethen?

  Slowly the lamplight paled as dawn fought through the heavy shadows ofthe room. The door swung open noiselessly. The Spider glanced in andsoftly closed the door again.

  The Spider, he of the shriveled heart and body, did the most humanthing he had done for years. At the little table opposite the bar hesat with brandy and a glass and deliberately drank until he feltneither the ache of his old wounds nor the sting of this fresh thrustof fate. Then he knew that he was drunk, but that his keen, crookedmind would obey his will, unfeelingly, yet with no hesitation and nostumbling.

  He rose and hobbled to the outer door. A vagrant breeze stirred thestale air in the room. Back in the patio his Mexican, Manuelo, laysnoring, wrapped in a tattered blanket. The Spider turned from thedoorway and gazed at the sanded spot on the floor, leaning against thebar and drumming on its edge with his nervous fingers. "He'll see herin every night-fire when he's alone--and he'll talk to her. He willsee her face among the girls in the halls--and he'll go cold and speakher name, and then some girl will laugh. He will eat out his heartthinking of her--and what she did for him. He's just a kid--but whenhe comes out of that room . . . he won't give a damn if he's bumped offor not. He'll play fast--and go through every time! God! I ought toknow!"

  The Spider turned and gazed across the morning desert. Far out rode agroup of men. One of them led a riderless horse. The Spider's thinlips twisted in a smile.