CHAPTER XX
A NIGHT OF TERROR
That midnight drive was one long nightmare to the unfortunate captive.He had been thrown, sprawling, into the iron-railed "carryall" platformat the back of the buckboard, and lay on the nut-studded slats, where hewas jolted and bumped about like the proverbial pea on a drum.
When the raider changed his direction, and turned off the trail on tothe open prairie, the horrors of the prisoner's position wereintensified a hundredfold. Alone, there was insufficient room for thesuffering man in the limited space of the "carryall," but beside himsat, or rather crouched, a burly Breed, ready at a moment's notice toquash any attempt at escape on the part of the wretched money-lender.
Thus he was borne along, mile after mile, southward towards his ownranch. Sometimes during that terrible ride Lablache found time to wonderwhat was the object of these people in thus kidnapping him. Surely ifthey only meant to carry off his cattle, such a task could have beendone without bringing him along with them. It seemed to him that therecould be only one interpretation put upon the matter, and, in spite ofhis present agonies, the great man shuddered as he thought.
Courageous as he was, he endured a period of mental agony which took allthe heart out of him. He understood the methods of the prairie so wellthat he feared the very worst. A tree--a lariat--and he saw, in fancy, acrowd of carrion swarming round his swinging body. He could conceive noother object, and his nerves became racked almost to breaking pitch.
The real truth of the situation was beyond his wildest dreams. Thesignificance of the fact that this second attack was made against himwas lost upon the wretched man. He only seemed to realize with naturaldread that Retief--the terror of the countryside--was in this, thereforethe outcome must surely be the very worst.
At length the horses drew up at Lablache's lonely ranch. His nearestneighbor was not within ten miles of him. With that love of power andself aggrandisement which always characterized him, the money-lender hadpurchased from the Government a vast tract of country, and retainedevery acre of it for his own stock. It might have stood him in goodstead now had he let portions of his grazing, and so settled up thedistrict. As it was, his ranch was characteristic of himself--isolated;and he knew that Retief could here work his will with little chance ofinterference.
As Lablache was hoisted from the buckboard and set upon his feet, andthe gag was removed from his mouth, the first thing he noticed was theabsolute quiescence of the place. He wondered if his foreman and thehands were yet sleeping.
He was not long left in doubt. Retief gave a few rapid orders to hismen, and as he did so Lablache observed, for the first time, that theBreeds numbered at least half-a-dozen. He felt sure that not more thanfour besides their chief had traveled with them, and yet now the numberhad increased.
The obvious conclusion was that the others were already here at the timeof the arrival of the buckboard, doubtless with the purpose of carryingout Retief's plans.
The Breeds moved off in various directions, and their chief and themoney-lender were left alone. As soon as the others were out of earshotthe raider approached his captive. His face seemed to have undergonesome subtle change. The lofty air of command had been replaced by a lookof bitter hatred and terrible cruelty.
"Now, Lablache," he said coldly, "I guess you're goin' to see some fun.I ain't mostly hard on people. I like to do the thing han'some. SayI'll jest roll this bar'l 'long so as you ken set. An' see hyar, efyou're mighty quiet I'll loose them hands o' yours."
Lablache deigned no reply, but the other was as good as his word.
"Sulky, some, I guess," the half-breed went on. "Wal, I'm not goin' backon my word," he added as he rolled the barrel up to his prisoner andscotched it securely. "Thar, set."
The money-lender didn't move.
"Set!" This time the word conveyed a command and the other sat down onthe barrel.
"Guess I can't stand cantankerous cusses. Now, let's have a look at yerbracelets."
He sat beside his captive and proceeded to loosen the rope which boundhis wrists. Then he quietly drew his pistol and rested it on his knee.Lablache enjoyed his freedom, but wondered what was coming next.
There was a moment of silence while the two men gazed at the corrals andbuildings set out before them. Away to the right, on a rising ground,stood a magnificent house built of red pine lumber. Lablache had builtthis as a dwelling for himself. For the prairie it was palatial, andthere was nothing in the country to equal it. This building alone hadcost sixty thousand dollars. On a lower level there were the greatbarns. Four or five of these stood linked up by smaller buildings andquarters for the ranch hands. Then there was a stretch of low buildingswhich were the boxes built for the great man's thoroughbred stud horses.He was possessed of six such animals, and their aggregate cost ran intothousands of pounds, each one having been imported from England.
Then there were the corrals with their great ten-foot walls, all builtof the finest pine logs cut from the mountain forests. These corralscovered acres of ground and were capable of sheltering five thousandhead of cattle without their capacity being taxed. It was an ideal placeand represented a considerable fortune. Lablache noticed that thecorrals were entirely empty. He longed to ask his captor forexplanation, but would not give that swarthy individual the satisfactionof imparting unpleasant information.
However, Retief did not intend to let the money-lender off lightly. Thecruel expression of his face deepened as he followed the direction ofLablache's gaze.
"Fine place, this," he said, with a comprehensive nod. "Cost a pile o'dollars, I take it."
No answer.
"You ain't got much stock. Guess the boys 'ave helped themselvesliberal."
Lablache turned his face towards his companion. He was fast being drawn.
"Heard 'em gassin' about twenty thousand head some days back. Guessthey've borrowed 'em," he went on indifferently.
"You villain!" the exasperated prisoner hissed at last.
If ever a look conveyed a lust for murder Lablache's lashless eyesexpressed it.
"Eh? What? Guess you ain't well." The icy tones mocked at the distraughtcaptive.
The money-lender checked his wrath and struggled to keep cool.
"My cattle are on the range. You could never have driven off twentythousand head. It would have been impossible without my hearing of it.It is more than one night's work."
"That's so," replied the half-breed, smiling sardonically. "Say, yourhands and foreman are shut up in their shack. They've bin taking thingseasy fur a day or two. Jest to give my boys a free hand. Guess we'vebeen at work here these three days."
The money-lender groaned inwardly. He understood the Breed's meaningonly too well. At last his bottled-up rage broke out again.
"Are you man or devil that you spirit away great herds like this.Across the keg, I know, but how--how? Twenty thousand! My God, you'llswing for this night's work," he went on impotently. "The wholecountryside will be after you. I am not the man to sit down quietlyunder such handling. If I spend every cent I'm possessed of, you shallbe hounded down until you dare not show your face on this side of theborder."
"Easy, boss," the Breed retorted imperturbably. "Ef you want to see thatprecious store o' yours again a civil tongue 'll help you best. I'mmostly a patient man--easy goin'-like. Now jest keep calm an' I'll letyou see the fun. Now that's a neat shack o' yours," he went on, pointingto the money-lender's mansion. "Wonder ef I could put a dose o' leadinto one o' the windows from here."
Lablache began to think he was dealing with a madman. He remainedsilent, and the Breed leveled his pistol in the direction of the houseand fired. A moment's silence followed the sharp report. Then Retiefturned to his captive.
"Guess I didn't hear any glass smash. Likely I missed it," and hechuckled fiendishly. Lablache sat gazing moodily at the building. Thenthe half-breed's voice roused him. "Hello, wot's that?" He was pointingat the house. "Why, some galoot's lightin' a bonfire! Say, that'sdangerous Lablache. They might f
ire your place."
But the other did not answer. His eyes were staring wide with horror. Asif in answer to the pistol-shot a fire had been lit against the side ofthe house. It was no ordinary fire, either, but a great pile of hay. Theflames shot up with terrible swiftness, licking up the side of the redpine house with lightning rapidity. Lablache understood. The house wasto be demolished, and Retief had given the signal. He leapt up from hisseat, forgetful of his bound feet, and made as though to seize the Breedby the throat. He got no further, however, for Retief gripped him by theshoulder, and, notwithstanding his great bulk, hurled him back on to thebarrel, at the same time pressing the muzzle of his pistol into hisface.
"Set down, you scum," he thundered. "Another move like that an' I'lllet the atmosphere into yer." Then with a Sudden return to his grimpastime, as the other remained quiet, "Say, red pine makes powerful finekindlin'. I reckon they'll see that light at the settlement. You don'tseem pleased, man. Ain't it a beaut. Look, they've started it the otherside. Now the smoke stack's caught. Burn, burn, you beauty. Look,Lablache, a sixty thousand dollar fire, an' all yours. Ain't you proudto think that it's all yours?"
Lablache was speechless with horror. Words failed to express hisfeelings. The Breed watched him as a tiger might contemplate itshelpless prey. He understood something of the agony the great man wassuffering. He wanted him to suffer--he meant him to suffer. But he hadonly just begun the torture he had so carefully prepared for his victim.
Presently the roof of the building crashed in, and, for the moment, theblaze leapt high. Then, soon, it began to die down. Retief seemed totire of watching the dying blaze. He turned again to his prisoner.
"Not 'nough, eh? Not 'nough. We can't stop here all night. Let's havethe rest. The sight'll warm your heart." And he laughed at his own grimpleasantry. "The boys have cleared out your stud 'plugs.' And, I guess,yer barns are chocked full of yer wheel gearing and implements. Say, Iguess we'll have 'em next."
He turned from his silent captive without waiting for reply, and rapidlydischarged the remaining five barrels of his pistol. For answer anotherfive bonfires were lighted round the barns and corals. Almost instantlythe whole place became a gorgeous blaze of light. The entire ranch, withthe exception of one little shack was now burning as only pine wood canburn. It was a terrible, never-to-be-forgotten sight, and Lablachegroaned audibly as he saw the pride of his wealth rapidly gutted. Ifever a man suffered the money-lender suffered that night Retief showeda great understanding of his prisoner--far too great an understandingfor a man who was supposed to be a stranger to Lablache--in the way heset about to torture his victim. No bodily pain could have equaled themental agony to which the usurer was submitted. The sight of thedemolishing of his beautiful ranch--probably the most beautiful in thecountry--was a cruelly exquisite torture to the money-loving man. Thatdread conflagration represented the loss to him of a fortune, for, withgrasping pusillanimity, Lablache had refused to insure his property. HadRetief known this he could not have served his own purpose better.Possibly he did know, and possibly that was the inducement whichprompted his action. Truly was the money-lender paying dearly for pastmisdeeds. With the theft of his cattle and the burning of his ranch hisloss was terrible, and, in his moment of anguish, he dared not attemptto calculate the extent of the catastrophe.
When the fire was at its height Retief again addressed his tauntinglanguage to the man beside him, and Lablache writhed under the lash ofthat scathing tongue.
"I've heerd tell you wer' mighty proud of this place of yours. Spentpiles o' bills on it. Nothin' like circulatin' cash, I guess. Say now,how long did it take you to fix them shacks up?"
No answer. Lablache was beyond mere words.
"A sight longer than it takes a bit of kindlin' to fetch 'em down, Itake it," he went on placidly. "When d'ye think you'll startre-building? I wonder," thoughtfully, "why they don't fire that shedyonder," pointing to the only building left untouched. "Ah, I wasforgettin', that's whar your hands are enjoyin' themselves. It'sthoughtful o' the boys. I guess they're good lads. They don't cotton tokillin' prairie hands. But they ain't so particular over useless lumpso' flesh, I guess," with a glance at the stricken man beside him.
Lablache was gasping heavily. The mental strain was almost more than hecould bear, and his crushed and hopeless attitude brought a satanicsmile on the cruel face beside him.
"You don't seem to fancy things much," Retief went on. "Guess you ain'tenjoyin' yerself. Brace up, pard; you won't git another sight like thisfur some time. Why, wot's ailing yer?" as the barrel on which they wereseated moved and Lablache nearly rolled over backwards. "I hadn't anotion yer wouldn't enjoy yerself. Say, jest look right thar. Thembarns," he added, pointing, towards the fire, "was built mighty solid.They're on'y jest cavin'."
Lablache remained silent. Words, he felt, would be useless. In fact itis doubtful if he would have been equal to expression. His spirit wascrushed and he feared the man beside him as he had never feared anyhuman being before. Such was the nervous strain put upon him that thesense of his loss was rapidly absorbed in a dread for his own personalsafety. The conflagration had lost its fascination for him, and at everymove--every word--of his captor he dreaded the coming of his own end. Itwas a physical and mental collapse, and bordered closely on frenziedterror. It was no mental effort of his own that kept him from hurlinghimself upon the other and biting and tearing in a vain effort to rendthe life out of him. The thought--the fever, desire, craving--was there,but the will, the personality, of the Breed held him spellbound, aninert mass of flesh incapable of physical effort--incapable almost ofthought, but a prey to an overwhelming terror.
The watching half-breed at length rose from his seat and shrugged histhin, stooping shoulders. He had had enough of his pastime, and time wasgetting on. He had other work to do before daylight. He put his hand tohis mouth and imitated the cry of the coyote. An instant later answeringcries came from various directions, and presently the Breeds gatheredround their chief.
"Say, bring up the 'plugs,' lads. The old boy's had his bellyfull. Iguess we'll git on." Then he turned upon the broken money-lender andspoke while he re-charged the chambers of his pistol.
"See hyar, Lablache, this night's work is on'y a beginning. So long asyou live in Foss River Settlement so long will I hunt you out an' hustleyer stock. You talked of houndin' me, but I guess the shoe's on theother foot. I ain't finished by a sight, an' you'll hear from me agin'.I don't fancy yer life," he went on with a grin. "Et's too easy, Iguess. Et's yer bills I'm after. Ye've got plenty an' to spare. Butbills is all-fired awk'ud to handle when they pass thro' your dirtyhands. So I'll wait till you've turned 'em into stock. Savee? I'm jestgoin' right on now. Thar's a bunch o' yer steers waitin' to be takenoff. Happen I'm goin' to see to 'em right away. One o' these lads'lljest set some bracelets on yer hands, and leave yer tucked up andcomfortable so you can't do any harm, and you can set right thar an'wait till some 'un comes along an' looses yer. So long, pard, an'remember, Foss River's the hottest place outside o' hell fur you, jestnow."
Some of the half-breeds had brought up the horses whilst Retief wastalking, and, as he finished speaking, the hustler vaulted on to theback of the great chestnut, Golden Eagle, and prepared to ride away.Whilst the others were getting into their saddles he took one look atthe wretched captive whose hands had been again secured. There was aswift exchange of glances--malevolent and murderous on the part of themoney-lender, and derisive on the part of the half-breed--then Retiefswung his charger round, and, at the head of his men, galloped away outinto the starry night.
The Story of the Foss River Ranch: A Tale of the Northwest Page 20
