The Mucker

by Edgar Rice Burroughs

  CHAPTER XIII. BARBARA AGAIN

  CAPTAIN BILLY BYRNE rode out of the hills the following afternoon upon apinto pony that showed the whites of its eyes in a wicked rim about theiris and kept its ears perpetually flattened backward.

  At the end of a lariat trailed the Brazos pony, for Billy, laughingaside Bridge's pleas, was on his way to El Orobo Rancho to return thestolen horse to its fair owner.

  At the moment of departure Pesita had asked Billy to ride by way ofJose's to instruct the old Indian that he should bear word to oneEsteban that Pesita required his presence.

  It is a long ride from the retreat of the Pesitistas to Jose's squalidhut, especially if one be leading an extra horse, and so it was thatdarkness had fallen long before Billy arrived in sight of Jose's.Dismounting some distance from the hut, Billy approached cautiously,since the world is filled with dangers for those who are beyond the law,and one may not be too careful.

  Billy could see a light showing through a small window, and towardthis he made his way. A short distance from Jose's is another, largerstructure from which the former inhabitants had fled the wrath ofPesita. It was dark and apparently tenantless; but as a matter of fact apair of eyes chanced at the very moment of Billy's coming to be lookingout through the open doorway.

  The owner turned and spoke to someone behind him.

  "Jose has another visitor," he said. "Possibly this one is less harmlessthan the other. He comes with great caution. Let us investigate."

  Three other men rose from their blankets upon the floor and joined thespeaker. They were all armed, and clothed in the nondescript uniforms ofVillistas. Billy's back was toward them as they sneaked from the hut inwhich they were intending to spend the night and crept quietly towardhim.

  Billy was busily engaged in peering through the little window intothe interior of the old Indian's hovel. He saw an American in earnestconversation with Jose. Who could the man be? Billy did not recognizehim; but presently Jose answered the question.

  "It shall be done as you wish, Senor Grayson," he said.

  "Ah!" thought Billy; "the foreman of El Orobo. I wonder what business hehas with this old scoundrel--and at night."

  What other thoughts Billy might have had upon the subject were rudelyinterrupted by four energetic gentlemen in his rear, who leaped upon himsimultaneously and dragged him to the ground. Billy made no outcry; buthe fought none the less strenuously for his freedom, and he fought afterthe manner of Grand Avenue, which is not a pretty, however effective,way it may be.

  But four against one when all the advantages lie with the four are heavyodds, and when Grayson and Jose ran out to investigate, and the ranchforeman added his weight to that of the others Billy was finallysubdued. That each of his antagonists would carry mementos of the battlefor many days was slight compensation for the loss of liberty. However,it was some.

  After disarming their captive and tying his hands at his back theyjerked him to his feet and examined him.

  "Who are you?" asked Grayson. "What you doin' sneakin' 'round spyin' onme, eh?"

  "If you wanna know who I am, bo," replied Billy, "go ask de HarlemHurricane, an' as fer spyin' on youse, I wasn't; but from de looks Iguess youse need spyin, yuh tinhorn."

  A pony whinnied a short distance from the hut.

  "That must be his horse," said one of the Villistas, and walked away toinvestigate, returning shortly after with the pinto pony and Brazos.

  The moment Grayson saw the latter he gave an exclamation ofunderstanding.

  "I know him now," he said. "You've made a good catch, Sergeant. Thisis the fellow who robbed the bank at Cuivaca. I recognize him from thedescriptions I've had of him, and the fact that he's got the Brazos ponymakes it a cinch. Villa oughter promote you for this."

  "Yep," interjected Billy, "he orter make youse an admiral at least;but youse ain't got me home yet, an' it'll take more'n four Dagos an' atin-horn to do it."

  "They'll get you there all right, my friend," Grayson assured him. "Nowcome along."

  They bundled Billy into his own saddle, and shortly after the littleparty was winding southward along the river in the direction of El OroboRancho, with the intention of putting up there for the balance of thenight where their prisoner could be properly secured and guarded. Asthey rode away from the dilapidated hut of the Indian the old man stoodsilhouetted against the rectangle of dim light which marked the opendoorway, and shook his fist at the back of the departing ranch foreman.

  "El cochino!" he cackled, and turned back into his hut.

  At El Orobo Rancho Barbara walked to and fro outside the ranchhouse.Within her father sat reading beneath the rays of an oil lamp. From thequarters of the men came the strains of guitar music, and an occasionalloud laugh indicated the climax of some of Eddie Shorter's famous Kansasfarmer stories.

  Barbara was upon the point of returning indoors when her attention wasattracted by the approach of a half-dozen horsemen. They reined into theranchyard and dismounted before the office building. Wondering a littlewho came so late, Barbara entered the house, mentioning casually to herfather that which she had just seen.

  The ranch owner, now always fearful of attack, was upon the pointof investigating when Grayson rode up to the veranda and dismounted.Barbara and her father were at the door as he ascended the steps.

  "Good news!" exclaimed the foreman. "I've got the bank robber, andBrazos, too. Caught the sneakin' coyote up to--up the river a bit." Hehad almost said "Jose's;" but caught himself in time. "Someone's beencuttin' the wire at the north side of the north pasture, an' I wasridin' up to see ef I could catch 'em at it," he explained.

  "He is an American?" asked the boss.

  "Looks like it; but he's got the heart of a greaser," replied Grayson."Some of Villa's men are with me, and they're a-goin' to take him toCuivaca tomorrow."

  Neither Barbara nor her father seemed to enthuse much. To them anAmerican was an American here in Mexico, where every hand was againsttheir race. That at home they might have looked with disgust upon thissame man did not alter their attitude here, that no American should takesides against his own people. Barbara said as much to Grayson.

  "Why this fellow's one of Pesita's officers," exclaimed Grayson. "Hedon't deserve no sympathy from us nor from no other Americans. Pesitahas sworn to kill every American that falls into his hands, and thisfellow's with him to help him do it. He's a bad un."

  "I can't help what he may do," insisted Barbara. "He's an American, andI for one would never be a party to his death at the hands of a Mexican,and it will mean death to him to be taken to Cuivaca."

  "Well, miss," said Grayson, "you won't hev to be responsible--I'll takeall the responsibility there is and welcome. I just thought you'd liketo know we had him." He was addressing his employer. The latter nodded,and Grayson turned and left the room. Outside he cast a sneering laughback over his shoulder and swung into his saddle.

  In front of the men's quarters he drew rein again and shouted Eddie'sname. Shorter came to the door.

  "Get your six-shooter an' a rifle, an' come on over to the office. Iwant to see you a minute."

  Eddie did as he was bid, and when he entered the little room he saw fourMexicans lolling about smoking cigarettes while Grayson stood beforea chair in which sat a man with his arms tied behind his back. Graysonturned to Eddie.

  "This party here is the slick un that robbed the bank, and got awayon thet there Brazos pony thet miserable bookkeepin' dude giv him. Thesergeant here an' his men are a-goin' to take him to Cuivaca in themornin'. You stand guard over him 'til midnight, then they'll relieveyou. They gotta get a little sleep first, though, an' I gotta getsome supper. Don't stand fer no funny business now, Eddie," Graysonadmonished him, and was on the point of leaving the office when athought occurred to him. "Say, Shorter," he said, "they ain't no wayof gettin' out of the little bedroom in back there except through thisroom. The windows are too small fer a big man to get through. I'll tellyou what, we'll lock him up in there an' then you won't hev to worrynon
e an' neither will we. You can jest spread out them Navajos there andgo to sleep right plump ag'in the door, an' there won't nobody hev torelieve you all night."

  "Sure," said Eddie, "leave it to me--I'll watch the slicker."

  Satisfied that their prisoner was safe for the night the Villistas andGrayson departed, after seeing him safely locked in the back room.

  At the mention by the foreman of his guard's names--Eddie andShorter--Billy had studied the face of the young American cowpuncher,for the two names had aroused within his memory a tantalizing suggestionthat they should be very familiar. Yet he could connect them in no waywith anyone he had known in the past and he was quite sure that he neverbefore had set eyes upon this man.

  Sitting in the dark with nothing to occupy him Billy let his mind dwellupon the identity of his jailer, until, as may have happened to you,nothing in the whole world seemed equally as important as the solutionof the mystery. Even his impending fate faded into nothingness bycomparison with the momentous question as to where he had heard the nameEddie Shorter before.

  As he sat puzzling his brain over the inconsequential matter somethingstirred upon the floor close to his feet, and presently he jerked back abooted foot that a rat had commenced to gnaw upon.

  "Helluva place to stick a guy," mused Billy, "in wit a bunch o'man-eatin' rats. Hey!" and he turned his face toward the door. "You,Eddie! Come here!"

  Eddie approached the door and listened.

  "Wot do you want?" he asked. "None o' your funny business, you know. I'mfrom Shawnee, Kansas, I am, an' they don't come no slicker from nowhereon earth. You can't fool me."

  Shawnee, Kansas! Eddie Shorter! The whole puzzle was cleared in Billy'smind in an instant.

  "So you're Eddie Shorter of Shawnee, Kansas, are you?" called Billy."Well I know your maw, Eddie, an' ef I had such a maw as you got Iwouldn't be down here wastin' my time workin' alongside a lot of Dagos;but that ain't what I started out to say, which was that I want alight in here. The damned rats are tryin' to chaw off me kicks an' whenthey're done wit them they'll climb up after me an' old man Villa'll besore as a pup."

  "You know my maw?" asked Eddie, and there was a wistful note in hisvoice. "Aw shucks! you don't know her--that's jest some o' your funny,slicker business. You wanna git me in there an' then you'll try an'git aroun' me some sort o' way to let you escape; but I'm too slick forthat."

  "On the level Eddie, I know your maw," persisted Billy. "I ben in yourmaw's house jest a few weeks ago. 'Member the horsehair sofa between thewindows? 'Member the Bible on the little marble-topped table? Eh? An'Tige? Well, Tige's croaked; but your maw an' your paw ain't an' theywant you back, Eddie. I don't care ef you believe me, son, or not; butyour maw was mighty good to me, an' you promise me you'll write her an'then go back home as fast as you can. It ain't everybody's got a swellmaw like that, an' them as has ought to be good to 'em."

  Beyond the closed door Eddie's jaw was commencing to tremble. Memorywas flooding his heart and his eyes with sweet recollections of an amplebreast where he used to pillow his head, of a big capable hand that waswont to smooth his brow and stroke back his red hair. Eddie gulped.

  "You ain't joshin' me?" he asked. Billy Byrne caught the tremor in thevoice.

  "I ain't kiddin' you son," he said. "Wotinell do you take me fer--one o'these greasy Dagos? You an' I're Americans--I wouldn't string a home guydown here in this here Godforsaken neck o' the woods."

  Billy heard the lock turn, and a moment later the door was cautiouslyopened revealing Eddie safely ensconced behind two six-shooters.

  "That's right, Eddie," said Billy, with a laugh. "Don't you take nochances, no matter how much sob stuff I hand you, fer, I'll give it toyou straight, ef I get the chanct I'll make my get-away; but I can't doit wit my flippers trussed, an' you wit a brace of gats sittin' on me.Let's have a light, Eddie. That won't do nobody any harm, an' it maydiscourage the rats."

  Eddie backed across the office to a table where stood a small lamp.Keeping an eye through the door on his prisoner he lighted the lamp andcarried it into the back room, setting it upon a commode which stood inone corner.

  "You really seen maw?" he asked. "Is she well?"

  "Looked well when I seen her," said Billy; "but she wants her boy backa whole lot. I guess she'd look better still ef he walked in on her someday."

  "I'll do it," cried Eddie. "The minute they get money for the pay I'llhike. Tell me your name. I'll ask her ef she remembers you when I gethome. Gee! but I wish I was walkin' in the front door now."

  "She never knew my name," said Billy; "but you tell her you seen the bothat mussed up the two yeggmen who rolled her an' were tryin' to croakher wit a butcher knife. I guess she ain't fergot. Me an' my pal werebeatin' it--he was on the square but the dicks was after me an' she letus have money to make our get-away. She's all right, kid."

  There came a knock at the outer office door. Eddie sprang back intothe front room, closing and locking the door after him, just as Barbaraentered.

  "Eddie," she asked, "may I see the prisoner? I want to talk to him."

  "You want to talk with a bank robber?" exclaimed Eddie. "Why you ain'tcrazy are you, Miss Barbara?"

  "No, I'm not crazy; but I want to speak with him alone for just amoment, Eddie--please."

  Eddie hesitated. He knew that Grayson would be angry if he let theboss's daughter into that back room alone with an outlaw and a robber,and the boss himself would probably be inclined to have Eddie drawn andquartered; but it was hard to refuse Miss Barbara anything.

  "Where is he?" she asked.

  Eddie jerked a thumb in the direction of the door. The key still was inthe lock.

  "Go to the window and look at the moon, Eddie," suggested the girl."It's perfectly gorgeous tonight. Please, Eddie," as he still hesitated.

  Eddie shook his head and moved slowly toward the window.

  "There can't nobody refuse you nothin', miss," he said; "'specially whenyou got your heart set on it."

  "That's a dear, Eddie," purred the girl, and moved swiftly across theroom to the locked door.

  As she turned the key in the lock she felt a little shiver of nervousexcitement run through her. "What sort of man would he be--this hardenedoutlaw and robber--this renegade American who had cast his lot with theavowed enemies of his own people?" she wondered.

  Only her desire to learn of Bridge's fate urged her to attempt sodistasteful an interview; but she dared not ask another to putthe question for her, since should her complicity in Bridge'sescape--provided of course that he had escaped--become known to Villathe fate of the Americans at El Orobo would be definitely sealed.

  She turned the knob and pushed the door open, slowly. A man was sittingin a chair in the center of the room. His back was toward her. He was abig man. His broad shoulders loomed immense above the back of the rudechair. A shock of black hair, rumpled and tousled, covered a well-shapedhead.

  At the sound of the door creaking upon its hinges he turned his face inher direction, and as his eyes met hers all four went wide in surpriseand incredulity.

  "Billy!" she cried.

  "Barbara!--you?" and Billy rose to his feet, his bound hands strugglingto be free.

  The girl closed the door behind her and crossed to him.

  "You robbed the bank, Billy?" she asked. "It was you, after the promisesyou made me to live straight always--for my sake?" Her voice trembledwith emotion. The man could see that she suffered, and yet he felt hisown anguish, too.

  "But you are married," he said. "I saw it in the papers. What do youcare, now, Barbara? I'm nothing to you."

  "I'm not married, Billy," she cried. "I couldn't marry Mr. Mallory. Itried to make myself believe that I could; but at last I knew that I didnot love him and never could, and I wouldn't marry a man I didn't love.

  "I never dreamed that it was you here, Billy," she went on. "I came toask you about Mr. Bridge. I wanted to know if he escaped, or if--if--oh,this awful country! They think no more of human life here than a butcherthinks of
the life of the animal he dresses."

  A sudden light illumined Billy's mind. Why had it not occurred to himbefore? This was Bridge's Penelope! The woman he loved was loved by hisbest friend. And she had sent a messenger to him, to Billy, to save herlover. She had come here to the office tonight to question a stranger--aman she thought an outlaw and a robber--because she could not restwithout word from the man she loved. Billy stiffened. He was hurt to thebottom of his heart; but he did not blame Bridge--it was fate. Nor didhe blame Barbara because she loved Bridge. Bridge was more her kindanyway. He was a college guy. Billy was only a mucker.

  "Bridge got away all right," he said. "And say, he didn't have nothin'to do with pullin' off that safe crackin'. I done it myself. He didn'tknow I was in town an' I didn't know he was there. He's the squarest guyin the world, Bridge is. He follered me that night an' took a shot atme, thinkin' I was the robber all right but not knowin' I was me. Hegot my horse, an' when he found it was me, he made me take your pony an'make my get-away, fer he knew Villa's men would croak me sure if theycaught me. You can't blame him fer that, can you? Him an' I were goodpals--he couldn't do nothin' else. It was him that made me bring yourpony back to you. It's in the corral now, I reckon. I was a-bringin' itback when they got me. Now you better go. This ain't no place fer you,an' I ain't had no sleep fer so long I'm most dead." His tones werecool. He appeared bored by her company; though as a matter of facthis heart was breaking with love for her--love that he believedunrequited--and he yearned to tear loose his bonds and crush her in hisarms.

  It was Barbara's turn now to be hurt. She drew herself up.

  "I am sorry that I have disturbed your rest," she said, and walked away,her head in the air; but all the way back to the ranchhouse she keptrepeating over and over to herself: "Tomorrow they will shoot him!Tomorrow they will shoot him! Tomorrow they will shoot him!"