The Quirt

by B. M. Bower

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  "OH, I COULD KILL YOU!"

  Before sundown they reached the timberland on Bear Top. The horsesslipped on the pine needles when Al left the trail and rode up a gentleincline where the trees grew large and there was little underbrush. Itwas very beautiful, with the slanting sun-rays painting broad yellowbars across the gloom of the forest. In a little while they reached thecrest of that slope, and Lorraine, looking back, could only guess atwhere the trail wound on among the trees lower down.

  Birds called companionably from the high branches above them. A nestinggrouse flew chuttering out from under a juniper bush, alighted a shortdistance away and went limping and dragging one wing before them,cheeping piteously.

  While Lorraine was wondering if the poor thing had hurt a leg inlighting, Al clipped its head off neatly with a bullet from hissix-shooter, though Lorraine had not seen him pull the gun and did notknow he meant to shoot. The bird's mate whirred up and away through thetrees, and Lorraine was glad that it had escaped.

  Al slid the gun back into his holster, leaned from his saddle and pickedup the dead grouse as unconcernedly as he would have dismounted, pulledhis knife from his boot and drew the bird neatly, flinging the crop andentrails from him.

  "Them juniper berries tastes the meat if you don't clean 'em out rightaway," he remarked casually to Lorraine, as he wiped the knife on histrousers and thrust it back into the boot-scabbard before he tied thegrouse to the saddle by its blue, scaley little feet.

  When he was ready to go on, Snake refused to budge. Tough as he was, hehad at last reached the limit of his energy and ambition. Al yanked hardon the bridle reins, then rode back and struck him sharply with hisquirt before Snake would rouse himself enough to move forward. He wentstiffly, reluctantly, pulling back until his head was held straight outbefore him. Al dragged him so for a rod or two, lost patience andreturned to whip him forward again.

  "What a brute you are!" Lorraine exclaimed indignantly. "Can't you seenow tired he is?"

  Al glanced at her from under his eyebrows. "He's all in, but he's got tomake it," he said. "I've been that way myself--and made it. What I cando, a horse can do. Come on, you yella-livered bonehead!"

  Snake went on, urged now and then by Al's quirt. Every blow madeLorraine wince, and she made the wincing perfectly apparent to Al, inthe hope that he would take some notice of it and give her a chance totell him what she thought of him without opening the conversationherself.

  But Al did not say anything. When the time came--as even Lorraine sawthat it must--when Snake refused to attempt a steep slope, Al still saidnothing. He untied her ankles from the stirrups and her hands from thesaddle horn, carried her in his arms to his own horse and compelled herto mount. Then he retied her exactly as she had been tied on Snake.

  "Skinner knows this trail," he told Lorraine. "And I'm behind yuh with agun. Don't forget that, Miss Spitfire. You let Skinner go to suithimself--and if he goes wrong, you pay, because it'll be you reininghim wrong. Get along there, Skinner!"

  Skinner got along in a businesslike way that told why Al Woodruff hadchosen to ride him on this trip. He seemed to be a perfectly dependablesaddle horse for a bandit to own. He wound in and out among the treesand boulders, stepping carefully over fallen logs; he thrust his noseout straight and laid back his ears and pushed his way through thicketsof young pines; he went circumspectly along the edge of a deep gulch,climbed over a ridge and worked his way down the precipitous slope onthe farther side, made his way around a thick clump of spruces andstopped in a little, grassy glade no bigger than a city lot, but with aspring gurgling somewhere near. Then he swung his head around and lookedover his shoulder inquiringly at Al, who was coming behind, leadingSnake.

  Lorraine looked at him also, but Al did not say anything to her or tothe horse. He let them stand there and wait while he unsaddled Snake,put a drag rope on him and led him to the best grazing. Then, comingback, he very matter-of-factly untied Lorraine and helped her off thehorse. Lorraine was all prepared to fight, but she did not quite knowhow to struggle with a man who did not take hold of her or touch her,except to steady her in dismounting. Unconsciously she waited for a cue,and the cue was not given.

  Al's mind seemed intent upon making Skinner comfortable. Still, he keptan eye on Lorraine, and he did not turn his back to her. Lorraine lookedover to where Snake, too exhausted to eat, stood with drooping head andall four legs braced like sticks under him. It flashed across her mindthat not even her old director would order her to make a run for thathorse and try to get away on him. Snake looked as if he would never movefrom that position until he toppled over.

  Al pulled the bridle off Skinner, gave him a half-affectionate slap onthe rump, and watched him go off, switching his tail and nosing theground for a likable place to roll. Al's glance went on to Snake, andfrom him to Lorraine.

  "You sure do know how to ride hell out of a horse," he remarked. "Nowhe'll be stiff and sore to-morrow--and we've got quite a ride to make."

  His tone of disapproval sent a guilty feeling through Lorraine, untilshe remembered that a slow horse might save her from this man who wasall bad,--except, perhaps, just on the surface which was not altogetherrepellent. She looked around at the tiny basin set like a saucer amongthe pines. Already the dusk was painting deep shadows in the woodsacross the opening, and turning the sky a darker blue. Skinner rolledover twice, got up and shook himself with a satisfied snort and wentaway to feed. She might, if she were patient, run to the horse when Al'sback was turned, she thought. Once in the woods she might have somechance of eluding him, and perhaps Skinner would show as much wisdomgoing as he had in coming, and take her down to the sageland.

  But Skinner walked to the farther edge of the meadow before he stopped,and Al Woodruff never turned his back to a foe. An owl hootedunexpectedly, and Lorraine edged closer to her captor, who was gatheringdead branches one by one and throwing them toward a certain spot whichhe had evidently selected for a campfire. He looked at her keenly, evensuspiciously, and pointed with the stick in his left hand.

  "You might go over there by the saddle and set down till I get a firegoing," he said. "Don't go wandering around aimless, like a hen turkey,watching a chance to duck into the brush. There's bear in there and lionand lynx, and I'd hate to see you chawed. They never clean theirtoe-nails, and blood poison generally sets in where they leave ascratch. Go and set down."

  Lorraine did not know how much of his talk was truth, but she went andsat down by his saddle and began braiding her hair in two tight braidslike a squaw. If she did get a chance to run, she thought, she did notwant her hair flying loose to catch on bushes and briars. She had oncefled through a brush patch in Griffith Park with her hair flowing loose,and she had not liked the experience, though it had looked very nice onthe screen.

  Before she had finished the braiding, Al came over to the saddle anduntied his slicker roll and the grouse.

  "Come on over to the fire," he said. "I'll learn yuh a trick or twoabout camp cooking. If I'm goin' to keep yuh with me, you might just aswell learn how to cook. We'll be on the trail the biggest part of ourtime, I expect."

  He took her by the arm, just as any man might have done, and led her tothe fire that was beginning to crackle cheerfully. He set her down onthe side where the smoke would be least likely to blow her way andproceeded to dress the grouse, stripping off skin and feathers together.He unrolled the slicker and laid out a piece of bacon, a package ofcoffee, a small coffeepot, bannock and salt. The coffeepot and thegrouse he took in one hand--his left, Lorraine observed--and startedtoward the spring which she could hear gurgling in the shadows amongstthe trees.

  Lorraine watched him sidelong. He seemed to take it for granted now thatshe would stay where she was. The woods were dark, the firelight and thewarmth enticed her. The sight of the supper preparations made herhungrier than she had ever been in her life before. When one hasbreakfasted on one cup of coffee at dawn and has ridden all day withnothing to eat, running away from food
, even though that food is in thehands of one's captor, requires courage. Lorraine was terribly temptedto stay, at least until she had eaten. But Al might not give her anotherchance like this. She crept on her knees to the slicker and seized onepiece of bannock, crawled out of the firelight stealthily, then sprangto her feet and began running straight across the meadow toward Skinner.

  Twenty yards she covered when a bullet sang over her head. Lorraineducked, stumbled and fell headfirst over a hummock, not quite sure thatshe had not been shot.

  "Thought maybe I could trust yuh to play square," Al said disgustedly,pulling her to her feet, the gun still smoking in his hands. "You littlefool, what do you think you'd do in these hills alone? You sure enoughbelittle me, if you think you'd have a chance in a million of gettingaway from me!"

  She fought him, then, with a great, inner relief that the situation wasat last swinging around to a normal kidnapping. Still, Al Woodruffseemed unable to play his part realistically. He failed to fill her withfear and repulsion. She had to think back, to remember that he hadkilled men, in order to realize her own danger. Now, for instance, hemerely forced her back to the campfire, pulled the saddle strings fromhis pocket and tied her feet together, using a complicated knot which hetold her she might work on all she darn pleased, for all he cared. Thenhe went calmly to work cooking their supper.

  This was simple. He divided the grouse so that one part had the meatybreast and legs, and the other the back and wings. The meaty part helarded neatly with strips of bacon, using his hunting knife,--whichLorraine watched fascinatedly, wondering if it had ever taken the lifeof a man. He skewered the meat on a green, forked stick and gave it toher to broil for herself over the hottest coals of the fire, while hemade the coffee and prepared his own portion of the grouse.

  Lorraine was hungry. She broiled the grouse carefully and ate it, withthe exception of one leg, which she surprised herself by offering to Al,who was picking the bones of his own share down to the last shred ofmeat. She drank a cup of coffee, black, and returned the cup to thekiller, who unconcernedly drank from it without any previous rinsing.She ate bannock with her meat and secretly thought what an adventure itwould be if only it were not real,--if only she were not threatened witha forced marriage to this man. The primitive camp appealed to her; shewho had prided herself upon being an outdoor girl saw how she had alwaysplayed at being primitive. This was real. She would have loved it ifonly the man opposite were Lone, or Swan, or some one else whom she knewand trusted.

  She watched the firelight dancing on Al's somber face, softening itshardness, making it almost wistful when he gazed thoughtfully into thecoals. She thrilled when she saw how watchful he was, how he lifted hishead and listened to every little night sound. She was afraid of him asshe feared the lightning; she feared his pitiless attitude toward humanlife. She would find some way to outwit him when it came to the point ofmarrying him, she thought. She would escape him if she could without toogreat a risk of being shot. She felt absolutely certain that he wouldshoot her with as little compunction as he would marry her byforce,--and it seemed to Lorraine that he would not greatly care whichhe did.

  "I guess you're tired," Al said suddenly, rousing himself from deepstudy and looking at her imperturbably. "I'll fix yuh so you cansleep--and that's about all yuh can do."

  He went over to his saddle, took the blanket and unfolded it untilLorraine saw that it was a full-size bed blanket of heavy gray wool.The man's ingenuity seemed endless. Without seeming to have any extraluggage, he had nevertheless carried a very efficient camp outfit withhim. He took his hunting knife, went to the spruce grove and cut manysmall, green branches, returning with all he could hold in his arms. Shewatched him lay them tips up for a mattress, and was secretly glad thatshe knew this much at least of camp comfort. He spread the blanket overthem and then, without a word, came over to her and untied her feet.

  "Go and lay down on the blanket," he commanded.

  "I'll do nothing of the kind!" Lorraine set her mouth stubbornly.

  "Well, then I'll have to lay you down," said Al, lifting her to herfeet. "If you get balky, I'm liable to get rough."

  Lorraine drew away from him as far as she could and looked at him for afull minute. Al stared back into her eyes. "Oh, I could _kill_ you!"cried Lorraine for the second time that day and threw herself down onthe bed, sobbing like an angry child.

  Al said nothing. The man's capacity for keeping still was amazing. Heknelt beside her, folded the blanket over her from the two sides, andtied the corners around her neck snugly, the knot at the back. In thesame way he tied her ankles. Lorraine found herself in a sleeping bagfrom which she had small hope of extricating herself. He took his coat,folded it compactly and pushed it under her head for a pillow; then hebrought her own saddle blanket and spread it over her for extra warmth.

  "Now stop your bawling and go to sleep," he advised her calmly. "Youain't hurt, and you ain't going to be as long as you gentle down andbehave yourself."

  She saw him draw the slicker over his shoulders and move back where theshadows were deep and she could not see him. She heard some animalsquall in the woods behind them. She looked up at the stars,--millionsof them, and brighter than she had ever seen them before. Insensibly shequieted, watching the stars, listening to the night noises, catching nowand then a whiff of smoke from Al Woodruff's cigarette. Before she knewthat she was sleepy, she slept.