Mystery Ranch

by Arthur Chapman

  CHAPTER VI

  White Lodge was a town founded on excitement. Counting its numerousshootings and consequent lynchings, and proportioning them to itspopulation, White Lodge had experienced more thrills than the largest ofEastern cities. Some ribald verse-writer, seizing upon White Lodge'sweakness as a theme, had once written:

  We can put the card deck by us, We can give up whiskey straight; Though we ain't exactly pious, We can fill the parson's plate; We can close the gamblin' places, We can save our hard-earned coin, BUT we want a man for breakfast In the mor-r-rnin'.

  But of course such lines were written in early days, and for newspaperconsumption in a rival town. White Lodge had grown distinctly away fromits wildness. It had formed a Chamber of Commerce which entered bravelyupon its mission as a lodestone for the attraction of Eastern capital.But the lure of adventurous days still remained in the atmosphere. Menwho were assembled for the purpose of seeing what could be done aboutgetting a horseshoe-nail factory for White Lodge wound up the session bytalking about the days of the cattle and sheep war. All of which wasnatural, and would have taken place in any town with White Lodge'sbackground of stirring tradition.

  Until the murder on the Dollar Sign road there had been little buttradition for White Lodge to feed on. The sheriff's job had come to belooked upon as a sinecure. But now all was changed. Not only WhiteLodge, but the whole countryside, had something live to discuss. Evenold Ed Halsey, who had not been down from his cabin in the mountains forat least five years, ambled in on his ancient saddle horse to get thelatest in mass theory.

  So far as theorizing was concerned, opinion in White Lodge ran all oneway. The men who had been arrested were guilty, so the local newspaperassumed, echoing side-walk conversation. The only questions were: Justhow was the crime committed, and how deeply was each man implicated?Also, were there any confederates? Some of the older cattlemen, who hadbeen shut out of leases on the reservation, were even heard to hint thatin their opinion the whole tribe might have had a hand in the killing.Anyway, Fire Bear's cohorts should be rounded up and imprisoned withoutdelay.

  Lowell was not surprised to find that he had been drawn into the vortexof unfriendliness. More articles and editorials appeared in the "WhiteLodge Weekly Star," putting the general blame for the tragedy upon thepolicy of "coddling" the Indians.

  "The whole thing," wound up one editorial, "is the best kind of anargument for throwing open the reservation to white settlement."

  "That is the heart of the matter as it stands," said Lowell, pointingout the editorial to his chief clerk. "This murder is to be made theexcuse for a big drive on Congress to have the reservation thrown open."

  "Yes," observed Rogers, "the big cattlemen have been itching for anotherchance since their last bill was defeated in Congress. They remind me ofthe detective concern that never sleeps, only they might better get in afew honest, healthy snores than waste their time the way they havelately."

  Lowell paid no attention to editorial criticism, but it was not easy toavoid hearing some of the personal comment that was passed when hevisited White Lodge. In fact he found it necessary to come to blows withone cowpuncher, who had evidently been stationed near Lowell'sautomobile to "get the goat" of the young Indian agent. The encounterhad been short and decisive. The cowboy, who was the hero of many fisticengagements, passed some comment which had been elaborately thought outat the camp-fire, and which, it was figured by his collaborators, "wouldmake anything human fight or quit."

  "That big cowpuncher from Sartwell's outfit sure got the agent's goatall right," said Sheriff Tom Redmond, in front of whose office theaffair happened. "That is to say, he got the goat coming head-on, hornsdown and hoofs striking fire. That young feller was under thecowpuncher's arms in jest one twenty-eighth of a second, and there wasonly two sounds that fell on the naked ear--one being the smack whenLowell hit and the other the crash when the cowpuncher lit. If that rashfeller'd taken the trouble to send me a little note of inquiry inadvance, I could have told him to steer clear of a man who tied into adesperate man the way that young agent tied into Jim McFann out there onthe reservation. But no public or private warnings are going to benecessary now. From this time on, young Lowell's going to have moreberth-room than a wildcat."

  Such matters as cold nods from former friends were disregarded byLowell. He had been through lesser affairs which had brought him undercriticism. In fact he knew that a certain measure of such injusticewould be the portion of any man who accepted the post of agent. He wenthis way, doing what he could to insure a fair trial for both men, and atthe same time not overlooking anything that might shed new light on acase which most of the residents of White Lodge seemed to consider asclosed, all but the punishment to be meted out to the prisoners.

  The hearing was to be held in the little court-room presided over byJudge Garford, who had been a figure at Vigilante trials in early daysand who was a unique personification of kindliness and firmness. Bothprisoners had refused counsel, nor had any confession materialized, asTom Redmond had prophesied. McFann had spent most of his time cursingall who had been concerned in his arrest. Talpers had called on himagain, and had whispered mysteriously through the bars:

  "Don't worry, Jim. If it comes to a showdown, I'll be there withevidence that'll clear you flyin'."

  As a matter of fact, Talpers intended to play a double game. He wouldlet matters drift, and see if McFann did not get off in the ordinarycourse of events. Meantime the trader would use his precious possession,the letter written by Helen Ervin, to terrify the girl. In case the girlproved defiant, why, then it would be time to produce the letter as alaw-abiding citizen should, and demand that the searchlight of justicebe turned on the author of a missive apparently so directly concernedwith the murder. If it so happened that the letter in his hands provedto be a successful weapon, and if Bill Talpers were accepted as asuitor, he would let the matter drop, so far as the authorities wereconcerned--and Jim McFann could drop with it. If the half-breed were tobe sacrificed when a few words from Bill Talpers might save him, so muchthe worse for Jim McFann! The affairs of Bill Talpers were to beconsidered first of all, and there was no need of being too solicitousover the welfare of any mere cat's-paw like the half-breed.

  If Jim McFann had known what was passing in the mind of the trader, hewould have torn his way out of jail with his bare hands and slain hispartner in bootlegging. But the half-breed took Talpers's fair words atface value and faced his prospects with a trifle more of equanimity.

  Fire Bear continued to view matters with true Indian composure. He hadmade no protestations of innocence, and had told Lowell there wasnothing he wanted except to get the hearing over with as quickly aspossible. The young Indian, to Lowell's shrewd eye, did not seem well.His actions were feverish and his eyes unnaturally bright. At Lowell'srequest, an agency doctor was brought and examined Fire Bear. His reportto Lowell was the one sinister word: "Tuberculosis!"

  When the men were brought into the court-room a miscellaneous crowd hadassembled. Cowpunchers from many miles away had ridden in to hear whatthe Indian and "breed" had to say for themselves. The crowd evenextended through the open doors into the hallway. Late comers, who couldnot get so much as standing room, draped themselves upon the stairs andabout the porch and made eager inquiry as to the progress of affairs.

  Helen Ervin rode in to attend the hearing, in response to an innerappeal against which she had struggled vainly. She met Lowell as shedismounted from the old white horse in front of the court-house. Lowellhad called two or three times at the ranch, following their ride acrossthe reservation. He had not gone into the house, but had merely stoppedto get her assurance that everything was going well and that the sickman was steadily progressing toward convalescence.

  "Why didn't you tell me you were coming over?" asked Lowell. "I wouldhave brought you in my machine. As it is, I must insist on taking youback. I'll have Plenty Buffalo lead your pony back to the ranch when hereturns to the agency."
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  "I couldn't help coming," said Helen. "I have a feeling that innocentmen are going to suffer a great injustice. Tell me, do you think theyhave a chance of going free?"

  "They may be held for trial," said Lowell. "No one knows what will bebrought up either for or against them in the meantime."

  "But they should not spend so much as a day in jail," insisted Helen."They--"

  Here she paused and looked over Lowell's shoulder, her expressionchanging to alarm. The agent turned and beheld Bill Talpers near them,his gaze fixed on the girl. Talpers turned away as Lowell escorted Helenupstairs to the court-room, where he secured a seat for her.

  As the prisoners were brought in Helen recognized the unfriendliness ofthe general attitude of White Lodge toward them. Hostility was expressedin cold stares and whispered comment.

  The men afforded a contrasting picture. Fire Bear's features were pureIndian. His nose was aquiline, his cheek-bones high, and his eyes blackand piercing, the intensity of their gaze being emphasized by the feverwhich was beginning to consume him. His expression was martial. In hisfootball days the "fighting face" of the Indian star had often appearedon sporting pages. He surveyed the crowd in the court-room with calmindifference, and seldom glanced at the gray-bearded, benign-lookingjudge.

  Jim McFann, on the contrary, seldom took his eyes from the judge's face.Jim was not so tall as Fire Bear, but was of wiry, athletic build. Hischeek-bones were as high as those of the Indian, but his skin waslighter in color, and his hair had a tendency to curl. His sinewy handswere clenched on his knees, and his moccasined feet crossed anduncrossed themselves as the hearing progressed.

  Each man testified briefly in his own behalf, and each, in Helen'sopinion, told a convincing story. Both admitted having been on the sceneof the crime. Jim McFann was there first. The half-breed testified thathe had been looking for a rawhide lariat which he thought he had droppedfrom his saddle somewhere along the Dollar Sign road the day before. Hehad noticed an automobile standing in the road, and had discovered thebody staked down on the prairie. In answer to a question, McFannadmitted that the rope which had been cut in short lengths and used totie the murdered man to the stakes had been the lariat for which he hadbeen searching. He was alarmed at this discovery, and was about toremove the rope from the victim's ankles and wrists, when he haddescried a body of horsemen approaching. He had thought the horsemenmight be Indian police, and had jumped on his horse and ridden away,making his way through a near-by gulch and out on the prairie withoutbeing detected.

  "Why were you so afraid of the Indian police?" was asked.

  The half-breed hesitated a moment, and then said:

  "Bootlegging."

  There was a laugh in the court-room at this--a sharp, mirthless laughwhich was checked by the insistent sound of the bailiff's gavel.

  Jim McFann sank back in his chair, livid with rage. In his eyes was thelook of the snarling wild animal--the same look that had flashed therewhen he sprang at Lowell in his camp. He motioned that he had nothingmore to say.

  Fire Bear's testimony was as brief. He said that he and a company of hisyoung men--perhaps thirty or forty--all mounted on ponies, had taken along ride from the camp where they had been making medicine. The tripwas in connection with the medicine that was being made. Fire Bear andhis young men had ridden by a circuitous route, and had left thereservation at the Greek Letter Ranch on the same morning that McFannhad found the slain man's body. They had intended riding along theDollar Sign road, past Talpers's and the agency, and back to their camp.But on the big hill between Talpers's and the Greek Letter Ranch theyhad found the automobile standing in the road, and a few minutes laterhad found the body, just as McFann had described it. They had not seenany trace of McFann, but had noticed the tracks of a man and pony aboutthe automobile and the body. The Indians had held a quick consultation,and, on the advice of Fire Bear, had quit the scene suddenly. It was themurder of a white man, off the reservation. It was a case for white mento settle. If the Indians were found there, they might get in trouble.They had galloped across the prairie to their camp, by the most directway, and had not gone on to Talpers's nor to the agency.

  Helen expected both men to be freed at once. To her dismay, the judgeannounced that both would be held for trial, without bail, followingperfunctory statements from Plenty Buffalo, Walter Lowell, and SheriffTom Redmond, relating to later events in the tragedy. As in a dreamHelen saw some of the spectators starting to leave and Redmond's deputybeckon to his prisoners, when Walter Lowell rose and asked permission toaddress the court in behalf of the Government's ward, Fire Bear.

  Lowell, in a few words, explained that further imprisonment probablywould be fatal to Fire Bear. He produced the certificate of the agencyphysician, showing that the prisoner had contracted tuberculosis.

  "If Fire Bear will give me his word of honor that he will not try toescape," said the agent, "I will guarantee his appearance on the day setfor his trial."

  A murmur ran through the court-room, quickly hushed by the insistentgavel.

  Lowell had been reasonably sure of his ground before he spoke. Thevenerable judge had always been interested in the work at the agency,and was a close student of Indian tradition and history. The request hadcome as a surprise, but the court hesitated only a moment, and thenannounced that, if the Government's agent on the reservation would beresponsible for the delivery of the prisoner for trial, the defendant,Fire Bear, would be delivered to said agent's care. The other defendant,being in good health and not being a ward of the Government, would haveto stand committed to jail for trial.

  Fire Bear accepted the news with outward indifference. Jim McFann, withhis hands tightly clenched and the big veins on his forehead testifyingto the rage that burned within him, was led away between Redmond and hisdeputy. There was a shuffling of feet and clinking of spurs as men rosefrom their seats. A buzz came from the crowd, as distinctly hostile as arattler's whirr. Words were not distinguishable, but the sentiment couldnot have been any more distinctly indicated if the crowd had shouted inunison.

  Judge Garford rose and looked in a fatherly way upon the crowd. At amotion from him the bailiff rapped for attention. The judge stroked hiswhite beard and said softly:

  "Friends, there is some danger that excitement may run away with thiscommunity. The arm of the law is long, and I want to say that it will bereached out, without fear or favor, to gather in any who may attempt inany way to interfere with the administration of justice."

  To Helen it seemed as if the old, heroic West had spoken through thisfearless giant of other days. There was no mistaking the meaning thatran through that quietly worded message. It brought the crowd up with athrill of apprehension, followed by honest shame. There was even aripple of applause. The crowd started once more to file out, but indifferent mood. Some of the more impetuous, who had rushed downstairsbefore the judge had spoken, were hustled away from the agent'sautomobile, around which they had grouped themselves threateningly.

  "The judge means business," one old-timer said in an awe-stricken voice."That's the way he looked and talked when he headed the Vigilantes'court. He'll do what he says if he has to hang a dozen men."

  When Lowell and Helen came out to the automobile, followed by Fire Bear,the court-house square was almost deserted. Fire Bear climbed into theback seat, at Lowell's direction. He was without manacles. Helenoccupied the seat beside the driver. As they drove away, she caught aglimpse of Judge Garford coming down the court-house steps. He wasengaged in telling some bit of pioneer reminiscence--something broadlypleasant. His face was smiling and his blue eyes were twinkling. Helooked almost as any grandparent might have looked going to join afavorite grandchild at a park bench. Yet here was a man who had tornaside the veil and permitted one glimpse at the old, inspiring West.

  Helen turned and looked at him again, as, in an earlier era, she wouldhave looked at Lincoln.