VIII
THE SHERIFF
Miss Schuyler had conjectured correctly respecting the rifle-shot whichannounced the arrival of a messenger; a few minutes after the puff ofwhite smoke on the crest of the rise had drifted away, a mounted man rodeup to Grant at a gallop. His horse was white with dust and spume, but hisspurs were red.
"Railroad district executive sent me on to let you know the Sheriff hadlost your man," he said.
"Lost him," said Grant.
"Well," said the horseman, "put it as it pleases you, but, as he had himin the jail, it seems quite likely he let him go."
There was a growl from the teamsters who had clustered round, and Grant'sface grew stern. "He was able to hold the two homesteaders Clavering'sboys brought him."
"Oh, yes," said the other, "he has them tight enough. You'll remember oneof the cattle-boys and a storekeeper got hurt during the trouble, and ourmen are not going to have much show at the trial Torrance and the Sheriffare fixing up!"
"Then," said Grant wearily, "we'll stop that trial. You will get a freshhorse in my stable and tell your executive I'm going to take our men outof jail, and if it suits them to stand in they can meet us at the trailforks, Thursday, ten at night."
The man nodded. "I'm tolerably played out, but I'll start back right now,"he said.
He rode off towards the homestead, and Grant turned to the rest. "Jake,you'll take the eastern round; Charley, you'll ride west. Give them thehandful of oats at every shanty to show it's urgent. They're to be atFremont in riding order at nine to-morrow night."
In another ten minutes the men were riding hard across the prairie, andGrant, with a sigh, went on with his ploughing. It would be next yearbefore he could sow, and whether he would ever reap the crop was more thanany man in that region would have ventured to predict. He worked however,until the stars were out that night and commenced again when the red suncrept up above the prairie rim the next day; but soon after dusk mountedmen rode up one by one to Fremont ranch. They rode good horses, and eachcarried a Winchester rifle slung behind him when they assembled, silentand grim, in the big living-room.
"Boys," said Grant quietly, "we have borne a good deal, and tried to keepthe law, but it is plain that the cattle-men, who bought it up, have leftnone for us. Now, the Sheriff, who has the two homesteaders safe, has letthe man we sent him go."
There was an ominous murmur and Grant went on. "The homesteaders, who onlywanted to buy food and raised no trouble until they were fired on, will betried by the cattle-men, and I needn't tell you what kind of chancethey'll get. We pledged ourselves to see they had fair play when they camein, and there's only one means of getting it. We are going to take themfrom the Sheriff, but there will be no fighting. We'll ride in strongenough to leave no use for that. Now, before we start, are you all willingto ride with me?"
Again a hoarse murmur answered him, and Grant, glancing down the row ofset faces under the big lamps, was satisfied.
"Then we'll have supper," he said quietly. "It may be a long while beforeany of us gets a meal again."
It was a silent repast. As yet the homesteaders, at least in thatdistrict, had met contumely with patience and resisted passively eachattempt to dislodge them, though it had cost their leader a strenuouseffort to restrain the more ardent from the excesses some of theircomrades farther east had already committed; but at last the most peacefulof them felt that the time to strike in turn had come. They mounted whensupper was over and rode in silence past willow bluff and dusky riseacross the desolate waste. The badger heard the jingle of their bridles,and now and then a lonely coyote, startled by the soft drumming of thehoofs, rose with bristling fur and howled; but no cow-boy heard theirpassage, or saw them wind in and out through devious hollows when daylightcame. Still, here and there an anxious woman stood, with hazy eyes, in thedoor of a lonely shanty, wondering whether the man she had sent out tostrike for the home he had built her would ever ride back again. For they,too, had their part in the struggle, and it was perhaps the hardest one.
It was late at night when they rode into the wooden town. Here and there awindow was flung open; but the night was thick and dark, and there waslittle to see but the dust that whirled about the dimly flitting forms.That, however, was nothing unusual, for of late squadrons of stockridersand droves of weary cattle had passed into the town; and a long row ofshadowy frame houses had been left behind before the fears of any citizenwere aroused. It was, perhaps, their silent haste that betrayed thehorsemen, for they rode in ordered ranks without a word, as men who havegrim business in hand, until a hoarse shout went up. Then a pistol flashedin the darkness in front of them, doors were flung open, lights began toblink, and a half-seen horseman came on at a gallop down the shadowystreet. He pulled his horse up within a pistol-shot from the homesteaders,and sat still in his saddle staring at them.
"You'll have to get down, boys, or tell me what you want," he said. "Youcan't ride through here at night without a permit."
There was a little ironical laughter, and somebody asked, "Who's going tostop us?"
"The Sheriff's guard," said the horseman. "Stop right where you are untilI bring them."
"Keep clear," said Grant sternly, "or we'll ride over you. Forward,boys!"
There was a jingle of bridles, and the other man wheeled his horse as theheels went home. Quick as he was, the foremost riders were almost uponhim, and as he went down the street at a gallop the wooden houses flungback a roar of hoofs. Every door was open now and the citizens peeringout. Lights flashed in the windows, and somebody cried, "The rustler boysare coming!"
Other voices took up the cry; hoots of derision mingled with shouts ofgreeting, but still, without an answer, the men from the prairie rode on,Grant peering into the darkness as he swung in his saddle at the head ofthem. He saw one or two mounted men wheel their horses, and more on footspring clear of the hoofs, and then the flash of a rifle beneath the blackfront of a building. A flagstaff ran up into the night above it, and therewere shadowy objects upon the verandah. Grant threw up a hand.
"We're here, boys," he said.
Then it became evident that every man's part had been allotted him, forwhile the hindmost wheeled their horses, and then sat still, with riflesacross their saddles, barring the road by which they had come, theforemost pressed on, until, pulling up, they left a space behind them andcommanded the street in front. The rest dismounted, and while one manstood at the heads of every pair of horses, the rest clustered round Grantin the middle of the open space. The jail rose dark and silent beforethem, and for the space of a moment or two there was an impressivestillness. It was broken by a shout from one of the rearguard.
"There's quite a crowd rolling up. Get through as quick as you can!"
Grant stood forward. "We'll give you half a minute to send somebody out totalk to us, and then we're coming in," he said.
The time was almost up before a voice rose from the building: "Who areyou, any way, and what do you want?"
"Homesteaders," was the answer. "We want the Sheriff."
"Well," said somebody, "I'll tell him."
Except for a growing clamour in the street behind there was silence untilBreckenridge, who stood near Grant touched him,
"I don't want to meddle, but aren't we giving them an opportunity ofsecuring their prisoners or making their defences good?" he said.
"That's sense, any way," said another man. "It would be 'way better to goright in now, while we can."
Grant shook his head. "You have left this thing to me, and I want to putit through without losing a man. Men don't usually back down when theshooting begins."
Then a voice rose from the building: "You wanted the Sheriff. Here heis."
A shadowy figure appeared at a window, and there was a murmur from Grant'smen.
"He needn't be bashful," said one of them. "Nobody's going to hurt him.Can't you bring a light, so we can see him?"
A burst of laughter followed, and Grant held up his hand. "It would bebetter, Sheriff;
and you have my word that we'll give you notice before wedo anything if we can't come to terms."
It seemed from the delay that the Sheriff was undecided, but at last alight was brought, and the men below saw him standing at the window withan anxious face, and behind him two men with rifles, whose dressproclaimed them stockriders. He could also see the horsemen below, asGrant, who waited until the sight had made its due impression, hadintended that he should. There were a good many of them, and the effect oftheir silence and the twinkling of light on their rifles was greater thanthat of any uproar would have been.
"Now you can see me, you needn't keep me waiting," said the Sheriff, withan attempt at jauntiness which betrayed his anxiety. "What do you want?"
"Two of your prisoners," said Grant.
"I'm sorry you can't have them," said the Sheriff. "Hadn't you better ridehome again before I turn the boys loose on you?"
But his voice was not quite in keeping with his words, and it would havebeen wiser if he had turned his face aside.
"It's a little too far to ride back without getting what we came for,"said Grant quietly. "Now, we have no great use for talking. We want twohomesteaders, and we mean to get them; but that will satisfy us."
"You want nobody else?"
"No. You can keep your criminals, or let them go, just as it suits you."
There was a laugh from some of the horsemen, which was taken up by thecrowd and swelled into a storm of cries. Some expressed approval, othersanger, and the Sheriff stepped backwards.
"Then," he said hoarsely, "if you want your friends, you must take them."
The next moment the window shut with a bang, and the light died out,leaving the building once more in darkness.
"Get to work," said Grant. "Forward, those who are going to cover theaxe-men!"
There was a flash from the verandah, apparently in protest and withoutintent to hurt, for the next moment a few half-seen objects flungthemselves over the balustrade as the men with the axes came up, andothers with rifles took their places a few paces behind them. Then one ofthe horsemen shouted a question.
"Let them pass," said Grant.
The door was solid and braced with iron, but those who assailed it hadswung the axe since they had the strength to lift it, and in the hands ofsuch men it is a very effective implement. The door shook and rattled asthe great blades whirled and fell, each one dropping into the notch theother had made; the men panted as they smote; the splinters flew inshowers.
"Holding out still!" gasped one of them. "There's iron here. Get some ofthe boys to chop that redwood pillar, and we'll drive it down."
There was an approving murmur, but Grant grasped the man by the shoulder."No," he said. "We haven't come to wreck the town. I've another plan ifyou're more than two minutes getting in."
The axes whirled faster, and at last a man turned breathlessly. "Getready, boys," he said. "One more on the bolt head, Jake, and we're in!"
A brawny man twice whirled the hissing blade about his head, and as heswung forward with both hands on the haft with a dull crash the wedge oftempered steel clove the softer metal. The great door tilted and wentdown, and Breckenridge sprang past the axe-men through the opening. Hisvoice came back exultantly out of the shadowy building. "It was the oldcountry sent you the first man in!"
The men's answer was a shout as they followed him, with a great tramplingdown the corridor, but the rest of the building was very silent, andnobody disputed their passage until at last a man with grey hair appearedwith a lantern behind an iron grille.
"Open that thing," said somebody.
The man smiled drily. "I couldn't do it if I wanted to. I've given my keysaway."
One or two of the homesteaders glanced a trifle anxiously behind them. Thecorridor was filling up, and it dawned upon them that if anything barredtheir egress they would be helpless.
"Then what are you stopping for?" asked somebody.
"It's in my contract," said the jailer quietly. "I was raised in Kentucky.You don't figure I'm scared of you?"
"No use for talking," said a man. "You can't argue with him. Go ahead withyour axes and beat the blamed thing in."
It cost them twenty minutes' strenuous toil; but the grille went down, andtwo of the foremost seized the jailer.
"Let him go," said Grant quietly. "Now, we can't fool time away with you.Where's the Sheriff?"
"I don't quite know," said the jailer, and the contempt in his voiceanswered the question.
Grant laughed a little. "Well," he said, "I guess he's sensible. Now, whatyou have got to do is to bring out the two homesteaders as quick as youcan."
"I told you I couldn't do it," said the other man.
"You listen to me. We are going to take those men out, if we have to pullthis place to pieces until we find them. That, it's quite plain, would letthe others go, and you would lose the whole of your prisoners instead oftwo of them. Tell us where you put them, and you can keep the rest."
"That's square?"
"Oh, yes," said Grant. "There are quite enough men of their kind loose inthis country already."
"Straight on," said the jailer. "First door."
They went on in silence, but there was a shout when somebody answeredtheir questions from behind a door, which a few minutes later tottered andfell beneath the axes. Then, amidst acclamation, they led two men out, andshowed them to the jailer.
"You know them?" said Grant. "Well, you can tell your Sheriff there wasn'ta cartridge in the rifles of the men who opened his jail. He'll come backwhen the trouble's over, but it seems to me the cattle-men have wasted apile of dollars over him."
He laughed when a question met them as they once more trampled into theverandah.
"Yes," he said. "The boys are bringing them!"
Two horses were led forward, and the released men swung themselves intothe saddle. There was a hasty mounting, and when the men swung into openfours a shout went up from the surging crowd.
"They have taken the homesteaders out. The Sheriff has backed down."
A roar followed that expressed approbation and disgust; it was evidentthat the sympathies of the citizens were divided. In the momentary silenceGrant's voice rang out:
"Sling rifles! Keep your order and distance! Forward, boys!"
Again a hoarse cry went up, but there was only applause in it now, for thecrowd recognized the boldness of the command and opened out, pressing backagainst the houses as the little band rode forward. Their silence wasimpressive, but the leader knew his countrymen, for, while taunts anddisplay would have courted an onset, nobody seemed anxious to obstruct themen who sat unconcernedly in their saddles, with the rifles which alonewarranted their daring disdainfully slung behind them.
On they went past clusters of wondering citizens, shouting sympathizers,and silent cattle-men, until there was a hoot of derision, and, perhaps inthe hope of provoking a conflict in which the rest would join, a knot ofmen pushed out into the street from the verandah of the wooden hotel.Grant realized that a rash blow might unloose a storm of passion and rouseto fury men who were already regretting their supineness.
"Keep your pace and distance!" he commanded.
Looking straight in front of them, shadowy and silent, the leading fourrode on, and once more the crowd melted from in front of them. As the lastof the band passed through the opening that was made for them a manlaughed as he turned in his saddle.
"We can't stay any longer, boys, but it wasn't your fault. It's a man youwant for Sheriff," he said.
"No talking there! Gallop!" said Grant, and the horsemen flitted acrossthe railroad track, and with a sinking thud of hoofs melted into theprairie. They had accomplished their purpose, and the cattle-men, goingback disgustedly to remonstrate with the Sheriff, for a while failed tofind him.
The Cattle-Baron's Daughter Page 8
