The Mucker

by Edgar Rice Burroughs

  CHAPTER XIV. 'TWIXT LOVE AND DUTY

  FOR an hour Barbara Harding paced the veranda of the ranchhouse, prideand love battling for the ascendency within her breast. She could notlet him die, that she knew; but how might she save him?

  The strains of music and the laughter from the bunkhouse had ceased. Theranch slept. Over the brow of the low bluff upon the opposite side ofthe river a little party of silent horsemen filed downward to the ford.At the bluff's foot a barbed-wire fence marked the eastern boundary ofthe ranch's enclosed fields. The foremost horseman dismounted and cutthe strands of wire, carrying them to one side from the path of the feetof the horses which now passed through the opening he had made.

  Down into the river they rode following the ford even in the darknesswith an assurance which indicated long familiarity. Then through afringe of willows out across a meadow toward the ranch buildingsthe riders made their way. The manner of their approach, their uttersilence, the hour, all contributed toward the sinister.

  Upon the veranda of the ranchhouse Barbara Harding came to a suddenhalt. Her entire manner indicated final decision, and determination. Amoment she stood in thought and then ran quickly down the steps and inthe direction of the office. Here she found Eddie dozing at his post.She did not disturb him. A glance through the window satisfied her thathe was alone with the prisoner. From the office building Barbara passedon to the corral. A few horses stood within the enclosure, their headsdrooping dejectedly. As she entered they raised their muzzles andsniffed suspiciously, ears a-cock, and as the girl approached closerto them they moved warily away, snorting, and passed around her to theopposite side of the corral. As they moved by her she scrutinized themand her heart dropped, for Brazos was not among them. He must have beenturned out into the pasture.

  She passed over to the bars that closed the opening from the corral intothe pasture and wormed her way between two of them. A hackamore with apiece of halter rope attached to it hung across the upper bar. Taking itdown she moved off across the pasture in the direction the saddle horsesmost often took when liberated from the corral.

  If they had not crossed the river she felt that she might find and catchBrazos, for lumps of sugar and bits of bread had inspired in his equinesoul a wondrous attachment for his temporary mistress.

  Down the beaten trail the animals had made to the river the girlhurried, her eyes penetrating the darkness ahead and to either hand forthe looming bulks that would be the horses she sought, and among whichshe might hope to discover the gentle little Brazos.

  The nearer she came to the river the lower dropped her spirits, for asyet no sign of the animals was to be seen. To have attempted to place ahackamore upon any of the wild creatures in the corral would have beenthe height of foolishness--only a well-sped riata in the hands of astrong man could have captured one of these.

  Closer and closer to the fringe of willows along the river she came,until, at their very edge, there broke upon her already taut nerves thehideous and uncanny scream of a wildcat. The girl stopped short inher tracks. She felt the chill of fear creep through her skin, and atwitching at the roots of her hair evidenced to her the extremity of herterror. Should she turn back? The horses might be between her and theriver, but judgment told her that they had crossed. Should she brave thenervous fright of a passage through that dark, forbidding labyrinth ofgloom when she knew that she should not find the horses within reachbeyond?

  She turned to retrace her steps. She must find another way!

  But was there another way? And "Tomorrow they will shoot him!" Sheshuddered, bit her lower lip in an effort to command her courage, andthen, wheeling, plunged into the thicket.

  Again the cat screamed--close by--but the girl never hesitated in heradvance, and a few moments later she broke through the willows a dozenpaces from the river bank. Her eyes strained through the night; but nohorses were to be seen.

  The trail, cut by the hoofs of many animals, ran deep and straight downinto the swirling water. Upon the opposite side Brazos must be feedingor resting, just beyond reach.

  Barbara dug her nails into her palms in the bitterness of herdisappointment. She followed down to the very edge of the water. Itwas black and forbidding. Even in the daytime she would not have beenconfident of following the ford--by night it would be madness to attemptit.

  She choked down a sob. Her shoulders drooped. Her head bent forward. Shewas the picture of disappointment and despair.

  "What can I do?" she moaned. "Tomorrow they will shoot him!"

  The thought seemed to electrify her.

  "They shall not shoot him!" she cried aloud. "They shall not shoot himwhile I live to prevent it!"

  Again her head was up and her shoulders squared. Tying the hackamoreabout her waist, she took a single deep breath of reassurance andstepped out into the river. For a dozen paces she found no difficulty infollowing the ford. It was broad and straight; but toward the centerof the river, as she felt her way along a step at a time, she came to aplace where directly before her the ledge upon which she crossed shelvedoff into deep water. She turned upward, trying to locate the directionof the new turn; but here too there was no footing. Down river shefelt solid rock beneath her feet. Ah! this was the way, and boldly shestepped out, the water already above her knees. Two, three steps shetook, and with each one her confidence and hope arose, and then thefourth step--and there was no footing. She felt herself lunging into thestream, and tried to draw back and regain the ledge; but the force ofthe current was too much for her, and, so suddenly it seemed that shehad thrown herself in, she was in the channel swimming for her life.

  The trend of the current there was back in the direction of the bank shehad but just quitted, yet so strong was her determination to succeed forBilly Byrne's sake that she turned her face toward the opposite shoreand fought to reach the seemingly impossible goal which love had set forher. Again and again she was swept under by the force of the current.Again and again she rose and battled, not for her own life; but forthe life of the man she once had loathed and whom she later had come tolove. Inch by inch she won toward the shore of her desire, and inch byinch of her progress she felt her strength failing. Could she win? Ah!if she were but a man, and with the thought came another: Thank God thatI am a woman with a woman's love which gives strength to drive me intothe clutches of death for his sake!

  Her heart thundered in tumultuous protest against the strain of herpanting lungs. Her limbs felt cold and numb; but she could not giveup even though she was now convinced that she had thrown her life awayuselessly. They would find her body; but no one would ever guess whathad driven her to her death. Not even he would know that it was forhis sake. And then she felt the tugging of the channel current suddenlylessen, an eddy carried her gently inshore, her feet touched the sandand gravel of the bottom.

  Gasping for breath, staggering, stumbling, she reeled on a few pacesand then slipped down clutching at the river's bank. Here the water wasshallow, and here she lay until her strength returned. Then she urgedherself up and onward, climbed to the top of the bank with success atlast within reach.

  To find the horses now required but a few minutes' search. They stoodhuddled in a black mass close to the barbed-wire fence at the extremityof the pasture. As she approached them they commenced to separateslowly, edging away while they faced her in curiosity. Softly shecalled: "Brazos! Come, Brazos!" until a unit of the moving mass detacheditself and came toward her, nickering.

  "Good Brazos!" she cooed. "That's a good pony," and walked forward tomeet him.

  The animal let her reach up and stroke his forehead, while he muzzledabout her for the expected tidbit. Gently she worked the hackamoreover his nose and above his ears, and when it was safely in place shebreathed a deep sigh of relief and throwing her arms about his neckpressed her cheek to his.

  "You dear old Brazos," she whispered.

  The horse stood quietly while the girl wriggled herself to his back,and then at a word and a touch from her heels moved off at a walk in thedirectio
n of the ford. The crossing this time was one of infinite ease,for Barbara let the rope lie loose and Brazos take his own way.

  Through the willows upon the opposite bank he shouldered his path,across the meadow still at a walk, lest they arouse attention, andthrough a gate which led directly from the meadow into the ranchyard.Here she tied him to the outside of the corral, while she went in searchof saddle and bridle. Whose she took she did not know, nor care, butthat the saddle was enormously heavy she was perfectly aware long beforeshe had dragged it halfway to where Brazos stood.

  Three times she essayed to lift it to his back before she succeeded inaccomplishing the Herculean task, and had it been any other horse uponthe ranch than Brazos the thing could never have been done; but thekindly little pony stood in statuesque resignation while the heavyMexican tree was banged and thumped against his legs and ribs, until alucky swing carried it to his withers.

  Saddled and bridled Barbara led him to the rear of the building andthus, by a roundabout way, to the back of the office building. Here shecould see a light in the room in which Billy was confined, and afterdropping the bridle reins to the ground she made her way to the front ofthe structure.

  Creeping stealthily to the porch she peered in at the window. Eddie wasstretched out in cramped though seeming luxury in an office chair.His feet were cocked up on the desk before him. In his lap lay hissix-shooter ready for any emergency. Another reposed in its holster athis belt.

  Barbara tiptoed to the door. Holding her breath she turned the knobgently. The door swung open without a sound, and an instant later shestood within the room. Again her eyes were fixed upon Eddie Shorter.She saw his nerveless fingers relax their hold upon the grip of hisrevolver. She saw the weapon slip farther down into his lap. He did notmove, other than to the deep and regular breathing of profound slumber.

  Barbara crossed the room to his side.

  Behind the ranchhouse three figures crept forward in the shadows. Behindthem a matter of a hundred yards stood a little clump of horses and withthem were the figures of more men. These waited in silence. The otherthree crept toward the house. It was such a ranchhouse as you might findby the scores or hundreds throughout Texas. Grayson, evidently, or someother Texan, had designed it. There was nothing Mexican about it, noranything beautiful. It stood two storied, verandaed and hideous, a blotupon the soil of picturesque Mexico.

  To the roof of the veranda clambered the three prowlers, and across itto an open window. The window belonged to the bedroom of Miss BarbaraHarding. Here they paused and listened, then two of them entered theroom. They were gone for but a few minutes. When they emerged theyshowed evidences, by their gestures to the third man who had awaitedoutside, of disgust and disappointment.

  Cautiously they descended as they had come and made their way back tothose other men who had remained with the horses. Here there ensued alow-toned conference, and while it progressed Barbara Harding reachedforth a steady hand which belied the terror in her soul and plucked therevolver from Eddie Shorter's lap. Eddie slept on.

  Again on tiptoe the girl recrossed the office to the locked door leadinginto the back room. The key was in the lock. Gingerly she turned it,keeping a furtive eye upon the sleeping guard, and the muzzle of his ownrevolver leveled menacingly upon him. Eddie Shorter stirred in his sleepand raised a hand to his face. The heart of Barbara Harding ceased tobeat while she stood waiting for the man to open his eyes and discoverher; but he did nothing of the kind. Instead his hand dropped limply athis side and he resumed his regular breathing.

  The key turned in the lock beneath the gentle pressure of her fingers,the bolt slipped quietly back and she pushed the door ajar. Within,Billy Byrne turned inquiring eyes in the direction of the opening door,and as he saw who it was who entered surprise showed upon his face; buthe spoke no word for the girl held a silencing finger to her lips.

  Quickly she came to his side and motioned him to rise while she tuggedat the knots which held the bonds in place about his arms. Once shestopped long enough to recross the room and close the door which she hadleft open when she entered.

  It required fully five minutes--the longest five minutes of BarbaraHarding's life, she thought--before the knots gave to her efforts; butat last the rope fell to the floor and Billy Byrne was free.

  He started to speak, to thank her, and, perhaps, to scold her for therash thing she had undertaken for him; but she silenced him again, andwith a whispered, "Come!" turned toward the door.

  As she opened it a crack to reconnoiter she kept the revolver pointedstraight ahead of her into the adjoining room. Eddie, however, stillslept on in peaceful ignorance of the trick which was being played uponhim.

  Now the two started forward for the door which opened from the officeupon the porch, and as they did so Barbara turned again toward Billyto caution him to silence for his spurs had tinkled as he moved. For amoment their eyes were not upon Eddie Shorter and Fate had it that atthat very moment Eddie awoke and opened his own eyes.

  The sight that met them was so astonishing that for a second the Kansancould not move. He saw Barbara Harding, a revolver in her hand,aiding the outlaw to escape, and in the instant that surprise kept himmotionless Eddie saw, too, another picture--the picture of a motherlywoman in a little farmhouse back in Kansas, and Eddie realized that thisman, this outlaw, had been the means of arousing within him a desire anda determination to return again to those loving arms. Too, the man hadsaved his mother from injury, and possible death.

  Eddie shut his eyes quickly and thought hard and fast. Miss Barbarahad always been kind to him. In his boyish heart he had loved her,hopelessly of course, in a boyish way. She wanted the outlaw to escape.Eddie realized that he would do anything that Miss Barbara wanted, evenif he had to risk his life at it.

  The girl and the man were at the door. She pushed him through ahead ofher while she kept the revolver leveled upon Eddie, then she passed outafter him and closed the door, while Eddie Shorter kept his eyes tightlyclosed and prayed to his God that Billy Byrne might get safely away.

  Outside and in the rear of the office building Barbara pressed therevolver upon Billy.

  "You will need it," she said. "There is Brazos--take him. God bless andguard you, Billy!" and she was gone.

  Billy swallowed bard. He wanted to run after her and take her in hisarms; but he recalled Bridge, and with a sigh turned toward the patientBrazos. Languidly he gathered up the reins and mounted, and thenunconcernedly as though he were an honored guest departing by daylighthe rode out of the ranchyard and turned Brazos' head north up the riverroad.

  And as Billy disappeared in the darkness toward the north BarbaraHarding walked slowly toward the ranchhouse, while from a little groupof men and horses a hundred yards away three men detached themselvesand crept toward her, for they had seen her in the moonlight as she leftBilly outside the office and strolled slowly in the direction of thehouse.

  They hid in the shadow at the side of the house until the girl hadturned the corner and was approaching the veranda, then they ran quicklyforward and as she mounted the steps she was seized from behind anddragged backward. A hand was clapped over her mouth and a whisperedthreat warned her to silence.

  Half dragging and half carrying her the three men bore her back to wheretheir confederates awaited them. A huge fellow mounted his pony andBarbara was lifted to the horn of the saddle before him. Then the othersmounted and as silently as they had come they rode away, following thesame path.

  Barbara Harding had not cried out nor attempted to, for she had seenvery shortly after her capture that she was in the hands of Indians andshe judged from what she had heard of the little band of Pimans who heldforth in the mountains to the east that they would as gladly knife heras not.

  Jose was a Piman, and she immediately connected Jose with theperpetration, or at least the planning of her abduction. Thus she feltassured that no harm would come to her, since Jose had been famous inhis time for the number and size of the ransoms he had collected.

 
Her father would pay what was demanded, she would be returned and, asidefrom a few days of discomfort and hardship, she would be none the worseoff for her experience. Reasoning thus it was not difficult to maintainher composure and presence of mind.

  As Barbara was borne toward the east, Billy Byrne rode steadilynorthward. It was his intention to stop at Jose's hut and deliver themessage which Pesita had given him for the old Indian. Then he woulddisappear into the mountains to the west, join Pesita and urge a newraid upon some favored friend of General Francisco Villa, for Billy hadno love for Villa.

  He should have been glad to pay his respects to El Orobo Rancho andits foreman; but the fact that Anthony Harding owned it and that he andBarbara were there was sufficient effectually to banish all thoughts ofrevenge along that line.

  "Maybe I can get his goat later," he thought, "when he's away from theranch. I don't like that stiff, anyhow. He orter been a harness bull."

  It was four o'clock in the morning when Billy dismounted in front ofJose's hut. He pounded on the door until the man came and opened it.

  "Eh!" exclaimed Jose as he saw who his early morning visitor was, "yougot away from them. Fine!" and the old man chuckled. "I send word toPesita two, four hours ago that Villistas capture Capitan Byrne and takehim to Cuivaca."

  "Thanks," said Billy. "Pesita wants you to send Esteban to him. I didn'thave no chance to tell you last night while them pikers was stickin'aroun', so I stops now on my way back to the hills."

  "I will send Esteban tonight if I can get him; but I do not know.Esteban is working for the pig, Grayson."

  "Wot's he doin' fer Grayson?" asked Billy. "And what was the Graysonguy doin' up here with you, Jose? Ain't you gettin' pretty thick withPesita's enemies?"

  "Jose good friends everybody," and the old man grinned. "Grayson havea job he want good men for. Jose furnish men. Grayson pay well. Jobgot nothin' do Pesita, Villa, Carranza, revolution--just private job.Grayson want senorita. He pay to get her. That all."

  "Oh," said Billy, and yawned. He was not interested in Mr. Grayson'samours. "Why didn't the poor boob go get her himself?" he inquireddisinterestedly. "He must be a yap to hire a bunch o' guys to go cop offa siwash girl fer him."

  "It is not a siwash girl, Senor Capitan," said Jose. "It is onebeautiful senorita--the daughter of the owner of El Orobo Rancho."

  "What?" cried Billy Byrne. "What's that you say?"

  "Yes, Senor Capitan, what of it?" inquired Jose. "Grayson he pay mefurnish the men. Esteban he go with his warriors. I get Esteban. They gotonight take away the senorita; but not for Grayson," and the old fellowlaughed. "I can no help can I? Grayson pay me money get men. I get them.I no help if they keep girl," and he shrugged.

  "They're comin' for her tonight?" cried Billy.

  "Si, senor," replied Jose. "Doubtless they already take her."

  "Hell!" muttered Billy Byrne, as he swung Brazos about so quickly thatthe little pony pivoted upon his hind legs and dashed away toward thesouth over the same trail he had just traversed.