by B. M. Bower
BLINK
The range-land was at its unpicturesque worst. For two days the windhad raged and ranted over the hilltops, and whooped up the longcoulees, so that tears stood in the eyes of the Happy Family when theyfaced it; impersonal tears blown into being by the very force of thewind. Also, when they faced it they rode with bodies aslant over theirsaddle-horns and hats pulled low over their streaming eyes, and withcoats fastened jealously close. If there were buttons enough, well andgood; if not, a strap cinched tightly about the middle was consideredpretty lucky and not to be despised. Though it was early September,"sour-dough" coats were much in evidence, for the wind had a chill wayof searching to the very marrow--and even a good, sheepskin-lined"sour-dough" was not always protection sufficient.
When the third day dawned bleakly, literally blown piecemeal from outdarkness as bleak, the Happy Family rose shiveringly and with sombredisapproval of whatever met their blood-shot eyes; dressed hurriedlyin the chill of flapping tent and went out to stagger drunkenly overto where Patsy, in the mess-tent, was trying vainly to keep thebiscuits from becoming dust-sprinkled, and sundry pans and tins fromtaking jingling little excursions on their own account. Over the browof the next ridge straggled the cavvy, tails and manes whipping in thegale, the nighthawk swearing so that his voice came booming down tocamp. Truly, the day opened inauspiciously enough for almost any direending.
As further evidence, saddling horses for circle resolved itself, asWeary remarked at the top of his voice to Pink, at his elbow, into "afree-for-all broncho busting tournament." For horses have nerves, andnothing so rasps the nerves of man or beast as a wind that never stopsblowing; which means swaying ropes and popping saddle leather, andcoat-tails flapping like wet sheets on a clothes line. Horses do notlike these things, and they are prone to eloquent manifestations oftheir disapproval.
Over by the bed-wagon, a man they called Blink, for want of a bettername, was fighting his big sorrel silently, with that doggeddetermination which may easily grow malevolent. The sorrel was at besta high-tempered, nervous beast, and what with the wind and theflapping of everything in sight, and the pitching of half-a-dozenhorses around him, he was nearly crazed with fear in the abstract.
Blink was trying to bridle him, and he was not saying a word--which,in the general uproar, was strange. But Blink seldom did say anything.He was one of the aliens who had drifted into the Flying U outfit thatspring, looking for work. Chip had taken him on, and he had stayed. Hecould ride anything in his string, and he was always just where he waswanted. He never went to town when the others clattered off for a fewhours' celebration more or less mild, he never took part in any of thecamp fun, and he never offended any man. If any offended him they didnot know it unless they were observant; if they were, they would seehis pale lashes wink fast for a minute, and they might read aright thesign and refrain from further banter. So Blink, though he was counteda good man on roundup, was left pretty much alone when in camp.
Andy Green, well and none too favorably known down Rocking R way, andlately adopted into the Happy Family on the recommendation of Pink andhis own pleasing personality, looped the latigo into the holder, gavehis own dancing steed a slap of the don't-try-to-run-any-whizzers-on-mevariety, and went over to help out Blink.
Blink eyed his approach with much the same expression with which heeyed the horse. "I never hollered for assistance," he remarkedgrudgingly when Andy was at his elbow. "When I can't handle any of theskates in my string, I'll quit riding and take to sheep-herding."Whereupon he turned his back as squarely as he might upon Andy andmade another stealthy grab for the sorrel's ears. (There is such athing in the range-land as jealousy among riders, and the fame of AndyGreen had gone afar.)
"All right. Just as you say, and not as I care a darn," Andy retorted,and went back to where his own mount stood tail to the wind. He didnot in the least mind the rebuff; he really felt all the indifferencehis manner portrayed--perhaps even more. He had offered help wherehelp was needed, and that ended it for him. It never occurred to himthat Blink might feel jealous over Andy's hard-earned reputation as a"tamer of wild ones," or mistake his good nature for patronage.
Five minutes later, when Chip looked around comprehensively at the lotof them in various degrees of readiness; saw that Blink was stillfighting silently for mastery of the sorrel and told Andy to go overand help him get saddled, Andy said nothing of having had his servicesrefused, but went. This time, Blink also said nothing, but accepted inungracious surrender the assistance thus thrust upon him. For on therange-land, unless one is in a mind to roll his bed and ride away, onedoes not question when the leader commands. Andy's attitude was stillthat of indifference; he really thought very little about Blink or hisopinions, and the rapid blinking of the pale lashes was quite lostupon him.
They rode, eighteen ill-natured, uncomfortable cowboys, tumultuouslyaway from the camp, where canvas bulged and swayed, and loose cornerscracked like pistol shots, over the hill where even the short, prairiegrass crouched and flattened itself against the sod; where straypebbles, loosened by the ungentle tread of pitching hoofs, skiddedtwice as far as in calm weather. The gray sky bent threateningly abovethem, wind-torn into flying scud but never showing a hint of blue.Later there might be rain, sleet, snow--or sunshine, as nature mightwhimsically direct; but for the present she seemed content with onlythe chill wind that blew the very heart out of a man.
Whenever Chip pulled up to turn off a couple of riders that they mightsearch a bit of rough country, his voice was sharp with the generaldiscomfort. When men rode away at his command, it was with brows drawntogether and vengeful heels digging the short-ribs of horses in quiteas unlovely a mood as themselves.
Out at the end of the "circle," Chip divided the remainder of his meninto two groups for the homeward drive. One group he himself led. Theother owned Weary as temporary commander and galloped off to the left,skirting close to the foothills of the Bear Paws. In that group rodePink and Happy Jack, Slim, Andy Green and Blink the silent.
"I betche we get a blizzard out uh this," gloomed Happy Jack, pullinghis coat collar up another fraction of an inch. "And the way Chip'sheaded us, we got to cross that big flat going back in the thick ofit; chances is, we'll git lost."
No one made reply to this; it seemed scarcely worth while. Every manof them rode humped away from the wind, his head drawn down as closeto his shoulders as might be. Conversation under those conditions wasnot likely to become brisk.
"A fellow that'll punch cows for a living," Happy Jack assertedvenomously after a minute, "had ought to be shut up somewheres. Hesure ain't responsible. I betche next summer don't see me at it."
"Aw, shut up. We know you're feeble-minded, without you blatting it bythe hour," snapped Pink, showing never a dimple.
Happy Jack tugged again at his collar and made remarks, to which noone paid the slightest attention. They rode in amongst the hills andnarrow ridges dividing "draws" as narrow, where range cattle wouldseek shelter from the cutting blast that raked the open. Then, just asthey began to realize that the wind was not quite such a ragingtorment, came a new phase of nature's unpleasant humor.
It was not a blizzard that descended upon them, though when it camerolling down from the hilltops it much resembled one. The wind hadchanged and brought fog, cold, suffocating, impenetrable. Yet such wasthe mood of them that no one said anything about it. Weary had beenabout to turn off a couple of men, but did not. What was the use,since they could not see twenty yards?
For a time they rode aimlessly, Weary in the lead. Then, when it grewno better but worse, he pulled up, just where a high bank shut off thewind and a tangle of brush barred the way in front.
"We may as well camp right here till things loosen up a little," hesaid. "There's no use playing blind-man's-buff any longer. We'll havesome fire, for a change. Mama! this is sure beautiful weather!"
At that, they brightened a bit and hurriedly dismounted and hunted drywood. Since they were to have a fire, the general tendency was to havea big one;
so that when they squatted before it and held out cold,ungloved fingers to the warmth, the flames were leaping high into thefog and crackling right cheerily. It needed only a few puffs at theircigarettes to chase the gloom from their faces and put them in themood for talk. Only Blink sat apart and stared moodily into the fire,his hands clasped listlessly around his knees, and to him they gave noattention. He was an alien, and a taciturn one at that. The HappyFamily were accustomed to living clannishly, even on roundup, and onlywhen they tacitly adopted a man, as they had adopted Pink and Irishand, last but not least important, Andy Green, did they take note ofthat man's mood and demand reasons for any surliness.
"If Slim would perk up and go run down a grouse or two," Pink observedpointedly, "we'd be all right for the day. How about it, Slim?"
"Run 'em down yourself," Slim retorted. "By golly, I ain't no lop-earbird dog."
"The law's out fer chickens," Happy Jack remarked dolefully.
"Go on, Happy, and get us a few. You've got your howitzer buckled on,"fleered Andy Green. Andy it was whose fertile imagination had sochristened Happy Jack's formidable weapon.
"Aw, gwan!" protested Happy Jack.
"Happy looks like he was out for a rep," bantered Pink. "He makes methink uh the Bad Man in a Western play. All he needs is his hat turnedup in front and his sleeves rolled up to his elbow, like he waskilling hogs. Happy would make a dandy-looking outlaw, with that gunand that face uh his."
"Say, by golly, I bet that's what he's figurin' on doing. He ain'tgoing to punch cows no more--I bet he's thinking about turning out."
"Well, when I do, you'll be the first fellow I lay for," retortedHappy, with labored wit.
"You never'd get a rep shooting at a target the size uh Slim," dimpledPink. "Is that toy cannon loaded, Happy?"
"I betche yuh dassen't walk off ten paces and let me show yuh,"growled Happy.
Pink made as if to rise, then settled back with a sigh. "Ten paces isfarther than you could drive me from this fire with a club," he said."And you couldn't see me, in this fog."
"Say, it _is_ pretty solid," said Weary, looking around him at theblank, gray wall. "A fellow could sit right here and be a lot ignorantof what's going on around him. A fellow could--"
"When I was riding down in the San Simon basin," spoke up Andy,rolling his second cigarette daintily between his finger-tips, "I hada kinda queer experience in a fog, once. It was thick as this one, andit rolled down just about as sudden and unexpected. That's a plentywild patch uh country--or it was when I was there. I was riding for aSpanish gent that kept white men as a luxury and let the greasers doabout all the rough work--such as killing off superfluous neighbors,and running brands artistic, and the like. Oh, he was a gay mark, allright.
"But about this other deal: I was out riding alone after a littlebunch uh hosses, one day in the fall. I packed my gun and a pair uhfield glasses, and every time I rode up onto a mesa I'd take a longlook at all the lower country to save riding it. I guess I'dprognosticated around like that for two or three hours, when I comeout on a little pinnacle that slopes down gradual toward a neighbor'shome ranch--only the ranch itself was quite a ride back up the basin.
"I got off my horse and set down on a rock to build me a smoke, andwas gazing off over the country idle, when I seen a rider come up outof a little draw and gallop along quartering-like, to pass my pinnacleon the left. You know how a man out alone like that will watchanything, from a chicken hawk up in the air to a band uh sheep,without any interest in either one, but just to have your eyes onsomething that's alive and moves.
"So I watched him, idle, while I smoked. Pretty soon I seen anotherfellow ride out into sight where the first one had, and hit her uplively down the trail. I didn't do no wondering--I just sat andwatched 'em both for want uh something better to do."
"Finding them strays wasn't important, I s'pose?" Happy Jackinsinuated.
"It could wait, and did. So I kept an eye on these gazabos, and prettysoon I saw the hind fellow turn off the trail and go fogging alongbehind a little rise. He come into sight again, whipping down bothsides like he was heading a wild four-year-old; and that was queer,because the only other live thing in sight was man number one, and Ididn't see no reason why he should be hurting himself to get around towindward like that.
"Maybe it was five minutes I watched 'em: number one loping along likethere wasn't nothing urgent and he was just merely going somewhere andtaking his time for it, and number two quirting and spurring likeseconds was diamonds."
"I wish they was that valuable to you," hinted Pink.
"They ain't, so take it easy. Well, pretty soon they got closertogether, and then number two unhooked something on his saddle thatcaught the light. There's where I got my field glasses into play. Idrew a bead with 'em, and seen right off it was a gun. And I hadn't nomore than got my brain adjusted to grasp his idea, when he puts itback and takes down his rope. That there," Andy added naively,"promised more real interest; guns is commonplace.
"I took down the glasses long enough to size up the layout. Glasses,you know, are mighty deceiving when it comes to relative distances,and a hilltop a mile back looks, through the glass, like just steppingover a ditch. With the naked eye I could see that they were comingtogether pretty quick, and they done so.
"Number one looks back, but whether he seen number two I couldn't say;seemed to me like he just glanced back casual and in the wrongdirection. Be that is it may, number two edged off a little and rodein behind a bunch uh mesquite--and then I seen that the trail took aturn, right there. So he pulled up and stood still till the other onehad ambled past, and then he whirled out into the trail and swung hisloop.
"When I'd got the glasses focused on 'em again, he had number onesnared, all right, and had took his turns. The hoss he was riding--itwas a buckskin--set back and yanked number one end over end out uh thesaddle, and number one's hoss stampeded off through the brush. Numbertwo dug in his spurs and went hell-bent off the trail and acrosscountry dragging the other fellow--and him bouncing over the roughspots something horrible.
"I don't know what got the matter uh me, then; I couldn't do anythingbut sit there on my rock and watch through the glasses. Anyway, whilethey looked close enough to hit with a rock, they was off a mile ormore. So while I could see it all I couldn't do nothing to prevent. Icouldn't even hear number one yell--supposing he done any hollering,which the chances is he did a plenty. It was for all the world likeone uh these moving pictures.
"I thought it was going to be a case uh dragging to death, but itwasn't; it looked to me a heap worse. Number two dragged his man aways--I reckon till he was plumb helpless--and then he pulled up androde back to where he laid. The fellow tried to get up, and did getpartly on his knees--and number one standing over him, watching.
"What passed I don't know, not having my hearing magnified like mysight was. I framed it up that number two was getting his past,present and future read out to him--what I'd call a free life reading.The rope was pinning his arms down to his sides, and number two wastaking blamed good care there wasn't any slack, so fast as he tried toget up he was yanked back. From first to last he never had a ghost ofa show.
"Then number two reaches back deliberate and draws his gun andcommences shooting, and I commences hollering for him to quit it--andme a mile off and can't do nothing! I tell yuh right now, that wasabout the worst deal I ever went up against, to set there on thatpinnacle and watch murder done in cold blood, and me plumb helpless.
"The first shot wasn't none fatal, as I could see plainer than waspleasant. Looked to me like he wanted to string out the agony. It wasa clear case uh butchery from start to finish; the damnedest,lowest-down act a white man could be guilty of. He empties hissix-gun--counting the smoke-puffs--and waits a minute, watching like acat does a gopher. I was sweating cold, but I kept my eyes glued tothem glasses like a man in a nightmare.
"When he makes sure the fellow's dead, he rides alongside and flipsoff the rope, with the buckskin snorting and edging off--at t
heblood-smell, I reckon. While he's coiling his rope, calm as if he'djust merely roped a yearling, the buckskin gets his head, plants itand turns on the fireworks.
"When that hoss starts in pitching, I come alive and drop the glassesinto their case and make a jump for my own hoss. If the Lord lets mecome up with that devil, I aim to deal out a case uh justice on my ownhook; I was in a right proper humor for doing him like he done theother fellow, and not ask no questions. Looked to me like he had itcoming, all right.
"I'd just stuck my toe in the stirrup, when down comes the fog like awet blanket on everything. I couldn't see twenty feet--" Andy stoppedand reached for a burning twig to relight his cigarette. The HappyFamily was breathing hard with the spell of the story.
"Did yuh git him?" Happy Jack asked hoarsely. Andy took a long puff athis cigarette. "Well, I--Holy smoke! what's the matter with _you_,Blink?" For Blink was leaning forward, half crouched, like a cat aboutto pounce, and was glaring fixedly at Andy with lips drawn back in asnarl. The Happy Family looked, then stared.
Blink relaxed, shrugged his shoulders and grinned unmirthfully. He gotup, pulled up his chaps with the peculiar, hitching gesture whichcomes with long practice and grows to be second nature, and staredback defiantly at the wondering faces lighted by the dancing flames.He turned his back coolly upon them and walked away to where his horsestood, took up the reins and stuck his toe in the stirrup, went up andlanded in the saddle ready for anything. Then he wheeled the bigsorrel so that he faced those at the camp-fire.
"A man's a damned fool, Andy Green, to see more than is meant for himto see. He's plumb crazy to go round blatting all he knows. You won'ttell that tale again, _mi amigo!_"
There was the pop of a pistol, a puff of blue against the gray, andthen the fog reached out and gathered Blink and the sorrel to itself.Only the clatter of galloping hoofs came to them from behind the dampcurtain. Andy Green was lying on his back in the grass, his cigarettesmoking dully in his fingers, a fast widening red streak trailing downfrom his temple.
The Happy Family rose like a covey of frightened chickens before theechoes were done playing with the gun-bark. On the heels of Blink'sshot came the crack of Happy Jack's "howitzer" as he fired blindlytoward the hoof-beats. There was more shooting while they scurried towhere their horses, snorting excitement, danced uneasily at the edgeof the bushes. Only one man spoke, and that was Pink, who stopped justas he was about to swing into the saddle.
"Damme for leaving my gun in camp! I'll stay with Andy. Go on--and ifyuh don't get him, I'll--" he turned back, cursing hysterically, andknelt beside the long figure in the grass. There was a tumult of soundas the three raced off in pursuit, so close that the flight of thefugitive was still distinct in the fog.
While they raced they cursed the fog that shielded from theirvengeance their quarry, and made such riding as theirs a blind gamblewith the chances all in favor of broken bones; their only comfort theknowledge that Blink could see no better than could they. They did nottalk, just at first. They did not even wonder if Andy was dead. Everynerve, every muscle and every thought was concentrated upon thepursuit of Blink. It was the instant rising to meet an occasionundreamed of in advance, to do the only thing possible without loss ofa second in parley. Truly, it were ill for Blink to fall into thehands of those three in that mood.
They rode with quirt and spur, guided only by the muffled_pluckety-pluck, pluckety-pluck_ of Blink's horse fleeing always justbefore. Whenever the hoof-beats seemed a bit closer, Happy Jack wouldlift his long-barreled .45 and send a shot at random toward the sound.Or Weary or Slim would take a chance with their shorter guns. Butnever once did they pull rein for steep or gulley, and never once didthe hoof-beats fail to come back to them from out the fog.
The chase had led afar and the pace was telling on their mounts, whichbreathed asthmatically. Slim, best he could do, was falling behind.Weary's horse stumbled and went to his knees, so that Happy Jackforged ahead just when the wind, puffing up from the open, blew asidethe gray fog-wall. It was not a minute, nor half that; but it was longenough for Happy Jack to see, clear and close, Blink pausingirresolutely upon the edge of a deep, brush-filled gulley. Happy Jackgave a hoarse croak of triumph and fired, just as the fog-curtainswayed back maddeningly. Happy Jack nearly wept with pure rage. Wearyand Slim came up, and together they galloped to the place, riding byinstinct of direction, for there was no longer any sound to guide.
Ten minutes they spent searching the gulley's edge. Then they sawdimly, twenty feet below, a huddled object half-hidden in the brush.They climbed down none too warily, though they knew well what might belying, venomous as a coiled rattler, in wait for them below. Slippingand sliding in the fog-dampened grass, they reached the spot, to findthe big sorrel crumpled there, dead. They searched anxiously andfutilely for more, but Blink was not there, nor was there anything toshow that he had ever been there. Then not fear, perhaps, but caution,came to Happy Jack.
"Aw, say! he's got away on us--the skunk! He's down there in thebrush, somewheres, waiting for somebody to go in and drag him out bythe ear. I betche he's laying low, right now, waiting for a chance topot-shot us. We better git back out uh this." He edged away, his eyeson the thicket just below. To ride in there was impossible, even tothe Happy Family in whole or in part. To go in afoot was not at all tothe liking of Happy Jack.
Slim gave a comprehensive, round-eyed stare at the unpromisingsurroundings, and followed Happy Jack. "By golly, that's right. Yuhdon't git me into no hole like that," he assented.
Weary, foolhardy to the last, stayed longest; but even Weary could notbut admit that the case was hopeless. The brush was thick and filledthe gully, probably from end to end. Riding through it was impossible,and hunting it through on foot would be nothing but suicide, with aman like Blink hidden away in its depths. They climbed back to therim, remounted and rode, as straight as might be, for the camp-fireand what lay beside, with Pink on guard.
It was near noon when, through the lightening fog, they reached theplace and discovered that Andy, though unconscious, was not dead. Theyfound, upon examination of his hurt, that the bullet had ploughedalong the side of his head above his ear; but just how serious itmight be they did not know. Pink, having a fresh horse and aching foraction, mounted and rode in much haste to camp, that the bed-wagonmight be brought out to take Andy in to the ranch and theministrations of the Little Doctor. Also, he must notify the crew andget them out searching for Blink.
All that night and the next day the cowboys rode, and the next. Theyraked the foothills, gulley by gulley, their purpose grim. It wouldprobably be a case of shoot-on-sight with them, and nothing savedBlink save the all-important fact that never once did any man of theFlying U gain sight of him. He had vanished completely after thatfleeting glimpse Happy Jack had gained, and in the end the Flying Uwas compelled to own defeat.
Upon one point they congratulated themselves: Andy, bandaged as hewas, had escaped with a furrow ploughed through the scalp, though itwas not the fault of Blink that he was alive and able to discuss theaffair with the others--more exactly, to answer the questions theyfired at him.
"Didn't you recognize him as being the murderer?" Weary asked himcuriously.
Andy moved uneasily on his bed. "No, I didn't. By gracious, you mustthink I'm a plumb fool!"
"Well, yuh sure hit the mark, whether yuh meant to or not," Pinkasserted. "He was the jasper, all right. Look how he was glaring atyuh while you were telling about it. _He_ knew he was the party, andhaving a guilty conscience, he naturally supposed yuh recognized himfrom the start."
"Well, I didn't," snapped Andy ungraciously, and they put it down tothe peevishness of invalidism and overlooked the tone.
"Chip has given his description in to the sheriff," soothed Weary,"and if he gets off he's sure a good one. And I heard that the sheriffwired down to the San Simon country and told 'em their man was uphere. Mama! What bad breaks a man will make when he's on the dodge! IfBlink had kept his face closed and acted normal, nobody would have g
otnext. Andy didn't know he was the fellow that done it. But it sure wasqueer, the way the play come up. Wasn't it, Andy?"
Andy merely grunted. He did not like to dwell upon the subject, and heshowed it plainly.
"By golly! he must sure have had it in for that fellow," mused Slimponderously, "to kill him the way Andy says he did. By golly, yuhcan't wonder his eyes stuck out when he heard Andy telling us allabout it!"
"I betche he lays for Andy yet, and gits him," predicted Happy Jackfelicitously. "He won't rest whilst an eye-witness is running aroundloose. I betche he's cached in the hills right now, watching hischance."
"Oh, go to hell, the whole lot of yuh!" flared Andy, rising to anelbow. "What the dickens are yuh roosting around here for? Why don'tyuh go on out to camp where yuh belong? You're a nice bunch to setaround comforting the sick! _Vamos_, darn yuh!"
Whereupon they took the hint and departed, assuring Andy, by way offarewell, that he was an unappreciative cuss and didn't deserve anysympathy or sick-calls. They also condoled openly with Pink because hehad been detailed as nurse, and advised him to sit right down on Andyif he got too sassy and haughty over being shot up by a real outlaw.They said that any fool could build himself a bunch of trouble with ahomicidal lunatic like Blink, and it wasn't anything to get vain over.
Pink slammed the door upon their jibes and offered Andy a cigarette hehad just rolled; not that Andy was too sick to roll his own, butbecause Pink was notably soft-hearted toward a sick man and was proneto indulge himself in trifling attentions.
"Yuh don't want to mind that bunch," he placated. "They mean allright, but they just can't help joshing a man to death."
Andy accepted also a light for the cigarette, and smoked moodily. "Itain't their joshing," he explained after a minute "It's puzzling overwhat I can't understand that gets on my nerves. I can't see throughthe thing, Pink, no way I look at it."
"Looks plain enough to me," Pink answered. "Uh course, it's funnyBlink should be the man, and be setting there listening--"
"Yes, but darn it all, Pink, there's a funnier side to it than that,and it's near driving me crazy trying to figure it out. Yuh needn'ttell anybody, Pink, but it's like this: I was just merely and simplyromancing when I told that there blood-curdling tale! I never wassouth uh the Wyoming line except when I was riding in a circus andtoured through, and that's the truth. I never was down in the SanSimon basin. I never set on no pinnacle with no field glasses--" Andystopped short his labored confession to gaze, with deep disgust, uponPink's convulsed figure. "Well," he snapped, settling back on thepillow, "_laugh_, darn yuh! and show your ignorance! By gracious, Iwish _I_ could see the joke!" He reached up gingerly and readjustedthe bandage on his head, eyed Pink sourly a moment, and with a grunteloquent of the mood he was in turned his face to the wall.
* * * * *
