CHAPTER XIV -- HOWARD EXPLAINS
Two horsemen rode into Millikan's Draw and drew up in front of the bigranch house. To the girl who stepped to the porch to meet them they gavefriendly greeting. One of them asked:
"How're things coming, Arlie?"
"Better and better every day, Dick. Yesterday the doctor said he was outof danger."
"It's been a tough fight for Steve," the other broke in. "Proper nursingis what pulled him through. Doc says so."
"Did he say that, Alec? I'll always think it was doc. He fought for thatlife mighty hard, boys."
Alec Howard nodded: "Doc Lee's the stuff. Here he comes now, talking ofangels."
Doctor Lee dismounted and grinned. "Which of you lads is she making loveto now?"
Arlie laughed. "He can't understand that I don't make love to anybodybut him," she explained to the younger men.
"She never did to me, doc," Dick said regretfully.
"No, we were just talking about you, doc."
"Fire ahead, young woman," said the doctor, with assumed severity. "I'mhere to defend myself now."
"Alec was calling you an angel, and I was laughing at him," said thegirl demurely.
"An angel--huh!" he snorted.
"I never knew an angel that chewed tobacco, or one that could swear theway you do when you're mad," continued Arlie.
"I don't reckon your acquaintance with angels is much greater than mine,Miss Arlie Dillon. How's the patient?"
"He's always wanting something to eat, and he's cross as a bear."
"Good for him! Give him two weeks now and he'll be ready to whip hisweight in wild cats."
The doctor disappeared within, and presently they could hear his loud,cheerful voice pretending to berate the patient.
Arlie sat down on the top step of the porch.
"Boys, I don't know what I would have done if he had died. It would havebeen all my fault. I had no business to tell him the names of you boysthat rode in the raid, and afterward to tell you that I told him," sheaccused herself.
"No, you had no business to tell him, though it happens he's safe as abank vault," Howard commented.
"I don't know how I came to do it," the girl continued. "Jed had made mesuspicious of him, and then I found out something fine he had donefor me. I wanted him to know I trusted him. That was the first thingI thought of, and I told it. He tried to stop me, but I'm such animpulsive little fool."
"We all make breaks, Arlie. You'll not do it again, anyhow," Francecomforted.
Doctor Lee presently came out and pronounced that the wounded man wasdoing well. "Wants to see you boys. Don't stay more than half an hour.If they get in your way, sweep 'em out, Arlie."
The cowpunchers entered the sick room with the subdued, gingerly treadof professional undertakers.
"I ain't so had as that yet, boys," the patient laughed. "You're allowedto speak above a whisper. Doc thinks I'll last till night, mebbe, if I'mcareful."
They told him all the gossip of the range--how young Ford had runoff with Sallie Laundon and got married to her down at the Butte; howSiegfried had gone up and down the valley swearing he would clean outJack Rabbit Run if Steve died; how Johnson had had another row with Jedand had chosen to take water rather than draw. Both of his visitors,however, had something on their minds they found some difficulty inexpressing.
Alec Howard finally broached it.
"Arlie told you the names of some of the boys that were in the SquawCreek sheep raid. She made a mistake in telling you anything, but we'lllet that go in the discard. It ain't necessary that you should know thenames of the others, but I'm going to tell you one of them, Steve."
"No, I don't want to know."
"This is my say-so. His name is Alec Howard."
"I'm sorry to hear that, Alec. I don't know why you have told me."
"Because I want you to know the facts of that raid, Steve. No killingwas on the program. That came about in a way none of us could foresee."
"This is how it was, Steve," explained Dick. "Word came that Campeau wasgoing to move his sheep into the Squaw Creek district. Sheep never hadrun there. It was understood the range there was for our cattle. We hadset a dead line, and warned them not to cross it. Naturally, it made ussore when we heard about Campeau.
"So some of us gathered together hastily and rode over. Our intentionswere declared. We meant to drive the sheep back and patrol the deadline. It was solemnly agreed that there was to be no shooting, not evenof sheep."
The story halted here for a moment before Howard took it up again."Things don't always come out the way you figure them. We didn'tanticipate any trouble. We outnumbered them two to one. We had theadvantage of the surprise. You couldn't guess that for anything but acinch, could you?"
"And it turned out different?"
"One of us stumbled over a rock as we were creeping forward. Campeauheard us and drew. The first shot came from them. Now, I'm going to tellyou something you're to keep under your own hat. It will surprise you aheap when I tell you that one man on our side did all the damage. He wasat the haid of the line, and it happens he is a dead shot. He is liableto rages, when he acts like a crazy man. He got one now. Before we couldput a stopper on him, he had killed Campeau and Jennings, and woundedthe herders. The whole thing was done before you could wink an eye sixtimes. For just about that long we stood there like roped calves.Then we downed the man in his tracks, slammed him with the butt of arevolver."
Howard stopped and looked at the ranger before he spoke again. His voicewas rough and hoarse.
"Steve, I've seen men killed before, but I never saw anything soawful as that. It was just like they had been struck by lightning forsuddenness. There was that devil scattering death among them and thepoor fellows crumpling up like rabbits. I tell you every time I think ofit the thing makes me sick."
The ranger nodded. He understood. The picture rose before him of a manin a Berserk rage, stark mad for the moment, playing Destiny on thatlonely, moonlit hill. The face his instinct fitted to the irresponsiblemurderer was that of Jed Briscoe. Somehow he was sure of that, beyondthe shadow of a doubt. His imagination conceived that long ride backacross the hills, the deep agonies of silence, the fierce moments ofvindictive accusation. No doubt for long the tug of conscience was withthem in all their waking hours, for these men were mostly simple-mindedcattlemen caught in the web of evil chance.
"That's how it was, Steve. In as long as it takes to empty a Winchester,we were every one of us guilty of a murder we'd each have given a laigto have stopped. We were all in it, all tied together, because we hadbroke the law to go raiding in the first place. Technically, the manthat emptied that rifle wasn't any more guilty than us poor wretchesthat stood frozen there while he did it. Put it that we might shave thegallows, even then the penitentiary would bury us. There was only onething to do. We agreed to stand together, and keep mum."
"Is that why you're telling me, Alec?" Fraser smiled.
"We ain't telling you, not legally," the cow-puncher answered coolly."If you was ever to say we had, Dick and me would deny it. But we ain'tworrying any about you telling it. You're a clam, and we know it. No,we're telling you, son, because we want you to know about how it was.The boys didn't ride out to do murder. They rode out simply to drive thesheep off their range."
The Texan nodded. "That's about how I figured it. I'm glad you toldme, boys. I reckon I don't need to tell you I'm padlocked in regard tothis."
Arlie came to the door and looked in. "It's time you boys were going.Doc said a half hour."
"All right, Arlie," responded Dick. "So-long, Steve. Be good, you oldpie eater."
After they had gone, the Texan lay silent for a long time. Heunderstood perfectly their motive in telling him the story. They had notcompromised themselves legally, since a denial would have given themtwo to one in the matter of witnesses. But they wished him to see that,morally, every man but one who rode on that raid was guiltless of theSquaw Creek murders.
Arlie came in presen
tly, and sat down near the window with someembroidery.
"Did the boys tire you?" she asked, noting his unusual silence.
"No. I was thinking about what they told me. They were giving me theinside facts of the Squaw Creek raid."
She looked up in surprise. "They were?" A little smile began to dimplethe corners of her mouth. "That's funny, because they had just gotthrough forgiving me for what I told you."
"What they told me was how the shooting occurred."
"I don't know anything about that. When I told you their names I wasonly telling what I had heard people whisper. That's all I knew."
"You've been troubled because your friends were in this, haven't you?You hated to think it of them, didn't you?" he asked.
"Yes. It has troubled me a lot."
"Don't let it trouble you any more. One man was responsible for all thebloodshed. He went mad and saw red for half a minute. Before the restcould stop him, the slaughter was done. The other boys aren't guilty ofthat, any more than you or I."
"Oh, I'm glad--I'm glad," she cried softly. Then, looking up quickly tohim: "Who was the man?" she asked.
"I don't know. It is better that neither of us should know that."
"I'm glad the boys told you. It shows they trust you."
"They figure me out a white man," he answered carelessly.
"Ah! That's where I made my mistake." She looked at him bravely, thoughthe color began to beat into her cheeks beneath the dusky tan. "Yet Iknew it all the time--in my heart. At least, after I had given myselftime to think it over. I knew you couldn't be that. If I had given youtime to explain--but I always think too late."
His eyes, usually so clear and steely, softened at her words. "I'msatisfied if you knew--in your heart."
"I meant----" she began, with a flush.
"Now, don't spoil it, please," he begged.
Under his steady, half-smiling gaze, her eyes fell. Two weeks ago shehad been a splendid young creature, as untaught of life as one of thewild forest animals and as unconsciously eager for it. But there hadcome a change over her, a birth of womanhood from that night when shehad stood between Stephen Fraser and death. No doubt she would oftenregret it, but she had begun to live more deeply. She could never goback to the care-free days when she could look all men in the facewith candid, girlish eyes. The time had come to her, as it must to allsensitive of life, when she must drink of it, whether she would or no.
"Because I'd rather you would know it in your heart than in your mind,"he said.
Something sweet and terrifying, with the tingle and warmth of rare winein it, began to glow in her veins. Eyes shy, eager, frightened, met hisfor an instant. Then she remembered the other girl. Something hard assteel ran through her. She turned on her heel and left the room.
A Texas Ranger Page 27
