CHAPTER XXIV
KIDNAPPED
Barbara Morgan had yielded to the fever of impatience which had afflictedher during the latter days of Harlan's absence from the Rancho Seco. Shehad been impatient ever since she had been forced to stay close to thehouse by Harlan's orders; but she had fought it off until now, for shehad been interested in Harlan, and had felt a deep wonder over hisprobable actions regarding her future.
She had known, of course, that real danger from Deveny existed, for theincident in Lamo had convinced her of that, but she felt that Harlan'sfears for her were rather extravagant--it was rather improbable thatDeveny would come boldly to the Rancho Seco and attempt to carry her awayby force.
The clear, brilliant sunshine of the country dispelled so grotesque athought; the peaceful hills seemed to smile their denial; and the broadlevel near the entrance to the basin sent a calm message of reassuranceto her.
She had known Red Linton for a long time--for he had been with her fatherfor nearly two seasons--and she had respected him for what he had seemedto be, a quiet, rather humorous man who did his work well, though withoutflourishes. He had never figured prominently in her thoughts, however,until the day Harlan had appointed him foreman of the Rancho Seco, andthen her attention had been attracted to him because he had seemedinterested in her.
And she had noted that Linton's interest in her seemed to grow afterHarlan's departure. He had talked with her several times, and she hadquestioned him about Harlan's whereabouts. But Linton had not seemed toknow; at least, if he did know, he kept his knowledge strictly tohimself, not even intimating that he knew where Harlan had gone.
Another thing she noted was that Linton seemed to have her undersurveillance. Whenever she left the house--even for a short rideeastward--where Harlan had told her she might ride without danger--shediscovered that Linton immediately mounted his horse, to linger somewherein sight.
The knowledge that she was watched began to irritate her and this morningshe had got up with a determination to ride without company. With thatend in view she had kept Billy all night in the patio; and when ratherlate in the morning she saw Linton riding eastward, she hurriedly threwsaddle and bridle on the horse and rode westward, toward the big basin.
She kept the house between her and the point where she had seenLinton--until a turn northward became inevitable; and then she urgedBilly to a faster pace, in an endeavor to cross the wide plain thatreached to the entrance to the basin before Linton could see her.
Many times during the days before the coming of Deveny and Haydon to thevalley she had ridden there; it had been a place in which reigned amighty silence which she had loved, which had thrilled her. During thoseother days she was in the habit of riding to a point several miles up thevalley--between the little basin where the Star was now and the RanchoSeco.
The trail led upward in a slow, gradual slope to that point--a ruggedpromontory that jutted out from a mesa that rose above the floor of thevalley. The mesa was fringed at the southern edge with stunt oak andnondescript brush. But there were breaks in the fringe which permittedher to ride close to the edge of the mesa; and from there she could lookmany miles up the valley--and across it, where the solemn hills rimmedthe southern horizon, to a trail--called the South Trail by cattlemen inthe valley, to distinguish it from the main trail leading through themighty hollow in which she rode.
When she reached the mesa she headed Billy directly for the break on thepromontory. Dismounting, she stretched her legs to disperse the saddleweariness; then she found a huge rock which had been the seat from whichshe had viewed the wondrous landscape in the past.
The reverent awe with which she had always viewed the valley was asstrong in her today as it had ever been--stronger, in fact, because shehad not seen the place for some time, and because in her heart there nowdwelt a sadness that had not been there in those other days--at leastsince her mother had died.
She was high above the floor of the valley; and she could see the maintrail below her weaving around low mounds and sinking into depressions;disappearing into timber groves, reappearing farther on, disappearingagain, and again reappearing until it grew blurred and indistinct in hervision.
In the marvelous clarity of the atmosphere this morning every beauteousfeature of the valley was disclosed to her inspection. The early morninghaze had lifted, and the few fleecy clouds that floated in the blue bowlof sky were motionless, their majestic billows glowing in the sun. Shesaw a Mexican eagle swoop over the cloud, sailing on slow wing high aboveit, and growing so distant in her vision that he became a mere speckmoving in the limitless expanse of space.
It was a colossal landscape, and its creator had neglected no detail. Andit was harmonious, from the emerald green that carpeted the floor of thevalley near the gleaming river to the gigantic shoulders of the ruggedhills that lifted their huge, bastioned walls into the blue of the sky.Some tall rock spires that thrust their peaks skyward far over on thesouthern side of the valley had always interested her; they seemed to besentinels that guarded the place, hinting of an ages-old mystery thatseemed to reign all about them.
But there was mystery in everything in the valley, she felt; for it laybefore her, spreading, slumbrous, basking in the brilliantsunlight--seeming to wait, as it seemed to have waited from the dawn ofthe first day, for man to wonder over it.
She saw the Mexican eagle again after a while. It was making a widecircle beyond the rock spires, floating lazily above them in long,graceful swoops that were so lacking in effort that she longed to be upthere with him--to ride the air with him, to feel the exhilaration hemust feel.
As she looked, however, she caught a faint blur on the southern horizonof the big picture--a yellowish-black cloud that hugged the horizon andtraveled rapidly eastward. It was some time before she realized that whatshe saw was a dust cloud, and there were men in it--horsemen.
She got up from the rock, her face slowly whitening. And into her heartcame a presentiment that those men in the dust cloud were abroad upon anerrand of evil.
No doubt the presentiment was caused from the dread and fear she hadlived under for days--the consciousness that Deveny was in the valley,and a recollection of the warnings that Harlan had given her. And sheknew the horsemen could not be Rancho Seco men--for they had gonesouthward from the ranch, and there was no grass range where the horsemenwere riding. Also, the men were riding eastward, toward the Rancho Seco.
Trembling a little with apprehension, she mounted Billy and sent him downthe slope to the floor of the valley. The descent was hazardous, andBilly did not make good time, but when he reached the level at the footof the slope he stretched his neck and fell into a steady, rapid pacethat took him down the valley swiftly.
As the girl rode, the presentiment of evil increased, and she grewnervous with a conviction that she would not be able to reach the RanchoSeco much in advance of the men. For she could see them more clearly now,because they were in the valley, traveling a shelving trail that slopeddown from the hills toward the level that stretched to the ranchhouse.
It was several miles from where she rode to the point where the horsemenwere riding, and she was traversing a long ridge which must have revealedher to the men if they looked toward her.
She had thought--after she had left the promontory--of concealing herselfsomewhere in the valley, to wait until she discovered who the men wereand what their errand was; but she had a fear that if the men wereDeveny's outlaws they might return up the valley and accidentally comeupon her. Also, she had yielded to the homing instinct which is strong inall living beings, for at home was safety that could not be foundelsewhere.
The South Trail, she knew, converged with the valley trail at the edge ofthe level. If she could reach that point a few minutes before thehorsemen reached it she would rely on Billy to maintain his lead. Billywould have to maintain it!
Leaning far over Billy's mane she urged him on, coaxing him, flatteringhim, calling to him in terms of endearment. And the loyal little animaldid
his best, running as he had never run before.
Barbara though, watching the horsemen with eyes into which there had comea glow of doubt, began to realize that Billy was losing the race. Also,by the time she had gone four or five miles, she discovered that the menhad seen her. For the trails were growing close together now--not morethan half a mile of slightly broken country stretched between them, andshe could see the men waving their hats; could hear their voices abovethe whir and clatter of Billy's passing.
Still, she was determined to win, and Billy's flanks felt the sting ofthe quirt that, hitherto, had swung from Barbara's wrist.
Billy revealed a marvelous burst of speed. But it did not last, and thehorsemen, after hanging for an instant abreast of Billy, began to forgeahead.
The courageous little animal had almost reached the covert that Harlanhad discovered the day he had visited the Star the first time, and wasnobly answering the stern urge of the quirt when another horsemansuddenly appeared on the trail directly ahead of the girl, seeminglyhaving ridden out of the covert.
The trail was narrow, and Billy could not swerve around the new rider.So, sensing the danger of a collision he stiffened his legs, making asliding halt that carried him a dozen feet, leaving him upon his hauncheswith Barbara frantically trying to keep to the saddle.
Then Billy's forehoofs came down; he grunted, heaved a tremendous sighand stood, his legs braced, awaiting orders.
No order came. For no words escaped Barbara's lips. She sat in thesaddle, her face ashen, terror clutching her.
For the horseman who had ridden out of the covert was Stroud, the RanchoSeco straw-boss. He was grinning, and in his eyes was a gloating triumphthat she could not mistake.
"Lucky I took a notion to come in this mornin'," he said. "I just gothere. I seen you hittin' the breeze for fair while you was quite a pieceup the basin; an' I seen Deveny an' the boys a-fannin' it, too. An' Isays to myself: 'Stroud, here's Deveny racin' to see Miss Barbara, an'her actin' like she don't want to see him. But I'll fix it so she does.'"
The girl touched Billy with the quirt, and the little animal lungedforward, close to Stroud's horse. As the two beasts came close togetherBarbara struck at Stroud with the quirt, hoping to disconcert him so thatshe could send Billy past him.
Stroud ducked and shot a hand out, seized the quirt and wrenched it fromher hand. She screamed as the hairloop scraped the flesh of her wrist.And then she heard a thundering clatter of hoofs and saw Deveny and hismen appear from beyond the covert and race toward her.
Deveny spoke no word. But as he rode toward her she saw the gleam in hiseyes, and she silently fought Stroud, who had grasped her and was pullingher toward him.
It seemed to her that Deveny must have misunderstood Stroud's action, forit was clear to her--even in the stress and confusion of the moment--thatDeveny thought Stroud had attacked her through motives that were strictlypersonal.
Anyway, before Stroud could speak Deveny's pistol glittered. Andmalignantly, his eyes blazing with a jealous, evil light, he shotStroud--twice.
He sat in the saddle, his lips twitching into a sneer as he watched thestraw-boss tumble from his horse and fall limply into the grass. Thenwith a smile that was hideous with a triumphant passion, he spurred hishorse to Billy's side, pulled the girl from the saddle, and sent hishorse up the valley, motioning his men to follow.
'Drag' Harlan Page 24
