CHAPTER XXII--LOOKING FOR TROUBLE
Before night the Arrow outfit, led by Bothwell, the range boss, cameinto the ranchhouse. For the news had reached them--after the manner inwhich all news travels in the cow-country--by word of mouth--and theyhad come in--all those who could be spared--to determine the truth ofthe rumor.
There were fifteen of them, rugged, capable-looking fellows; and despitethe doctor's objections, they filed singly, though noiselessly, intoTaylor's room and silently looked down upon their "boss." Marion,watching them from a corner of the room, noted their quick gulps ofpity, their grim faces, the savage gleams that came into their eyes, andshe knew they were thinking of vengeance upon the men who had wroughtthe injury to their employer.
Bothwell--big, grim, and deliberate of manner--said nothing as he lookeddown into his chief's face. But later, outside the house, listening toBud Hemmingway's recital of how Taylor had been brought to theranchhouse, Bothwell said shortly:
"I'm takin' a look!"
Shortly afterward, followed by every man of the outfit who had ridden inwith him, Bothwell crossed the big basin and sent his horse up the longslope to the big house.
Outside they came upon the bodies of the two men with whom Taylor hadfought. And inside the house they saw the other huddled on the floornear a door in the big front room. Silently the men filed through thehouse, looking into all the rooms, and noting the wreck and ruin thathad been wrought. They saw the broken glass of the little window throughwhich one of Carrington's men had fired the first shot; they noted thehole in the ceiling--caused by a bullet from Taylor's pistol; and theysaw another hole in the wall near the door beside which Taylor had beenstanding just before he had swung the door open.
"Three of them--an' Carrington--accordin' to what Bud says," saidBothwell. "That's four." He smiled bitterly. "They got him allright--almost, I reckon. But from the looks of things they must have hada roarin' picnic doin' it!"
Not disturbing anything, the entire outfit mounted and rode swiftly downthe Dawes trail, their hearts swelling with sympathy for Taylor andpassionate hatred for Carrington, "itching for a clean-up," as onesullen-looking member of the outfit described his feelings.
But there was no "clean-up." When they reached Dawes they found the townquiet--and men who saw them gave them plenty of room and forebore toargue with them. For it was known that they were reckless, hardy spiritswhen the mood came upon them, and that they worshiped Taylor.
And so they entered Dawes, and Dawes treated them with respect. Passingthe city hall, they noticed some men grouped in front of the building,and they halted, Bothwell dismounting and entering.
"What's the gang collectin' for?" he asked a man--whom he knew forDanforth. There was a belligerent thrust to Bothwell's chin, and a glarein his eyes that, Danforth felt, must be met with diplomacy.
"There's been trouble at the Huggins house, and I'm sending these men toinvestigate."
"Give them diggin' tools," said Bothwell grimly. "An' remember this--ifthere's any more herd-ridin' of our boss the Arrow outfit is startin' aprivate graveyard!" He pinned the mayor with a cold glare: "Where'sCarrington?"
"In his rooms--under a doctor's care. He's hit--bad. A bullet in hisside."
"Ought to be in his gizzard!" growled Bothwell. He went out, mounted,and led his men away. They were reluctant to leave town, but Bothwellwas insistent. "They ain't no fight in that bunch of plug-uglies!" hescoffed. "We'll go back an' 'tend to business, an' pull for the boss toget well!"
And so they returned to the Arrow, to find that the Dawes doctor wasstill with Taylor. The doctor sent out word to them that there was aslight chance for his patient, and satisfied that they had done all theycould, they rode away, to attend to "business."
For the first time in her life Marion Harlan was witnessing the fight ofa strong man to live despite grievous wounds that, she was certain,would have instantly killed most men. But Taylor fought his fightunconsciously, for he was still in that deep coma that had descendedupon him when he had gently slipped to the ground beside the house,still fighting, still scorning the efforts of his enemies to finish him.
And during the first night's fever he still fought; the powerfulsedatives administered by the doctor had little effect. In his deliriumhe muttered such terms and phrases as these: "Run, damn you--run! Iain't in any hurry, and I'll get you!" And--"I'll certainly smash yousome!" And--"A 'thing,' eh--I'll show you! She's mine, you miserablewhelp!"
Whether these were thoughts, or whether they were memories of pastutterances, made vivid and brought into the present by the fever, thegirl did not know. She sat beside his bed all night, with the doctornear her, waiting and watching and listening.
And she heard more: "That's Larry's girl, and it's up to me to protecther." And--"I knew she'd look like that." Also--"They're both tryin' tosend her to hell! But I'll fool them!" At these times there wasineffable tenderness in his voice. But at times he broke out in terriblewrath. "Ambush me, eh? Ha, ha! That was right clever of you, SpottedTail--we didn't make a good target, did we? Only for your sense we'dhave--" He ceased, to begin anew: "I've got _you_--damn you!" And thenhe would try to sit erect, swinging his arms as though he were trying tohit someone.
But toward morning he fell into a fitful sleep--the sleep of exhaustion;and when the dawn came, Mrs. Mullarky ordered the girl, pale and wanfrom her night's vigilance and service, to "go to bed."
For three days it was the same. And for three days the doctor stayed atthe side of the patient, only sleeping when Miss Harlan watched overTaylor.
And during the three days' vigil, Taylor's delirium lasted. The girllearned more of his character during those three days of constantwatchfulness than she would have learned in as many years otherwise.That he was honorable and courageous, she knew; but that he was sosincerely apprehensive over her welfare she had never suspected. For shelearned through his ravings that he had fought Carrington and the threemen for her; that he had deliberately sought Carrington to punish himfor the attack on her, and that he had not considered his own danger atall.
And at the beginning of the fourth day, when he opened his eyes andstared wonderingly about the room, his gaze at first resting upon thedoctor, and then traveling to the girl's face, and remaining there for along time, while a faint smile wreathed his lips, the girl's heart beathigh with delight.
"Well, I'm still a going it," he said weakly.
"I remember," he went on, musingly. "When they was handing it to me, Iwas thinking that I was in pretty bad shape. And then they must havehanded it to me some more, for I quit thinking at all. I'm going to pullthrough--ain't I?"
"You are!" declared the doctor. "That is," he amended, "if you keep yourtrap shut and do a lot of sleeping."
"For which I'm going to have a lot of time," smiled Taylor. "I'm goingto sleep, for I feel mighty like sleeping. But before I do any sleeping,there's a thing I want to know. Did Carrington's men--the last two--getaway, or did I----"
"You did," grinned the doctor. "Bothwell rode over there to findout--and Mullarky saw them. Mullarky brought you back--and got me."
"Carrington?" inquired the patient.
"Mullarky saw him. He says he never saw a man so beat up in his life.Besides, you shot him, too--in the side. Not dangerous, but a heappainful."
Taylor smiled and looked at Miss Harlan. "I knew you were here," hesaid; "I've felt you near me. It was mighty comforting, and I want tothank you for it. There were times when I must have shot off my mouth aheap. If I said anything I shouldn't have said, I'm a whole lot sorry.And I'm asking your pardon."
"You didn't," she said, her eyes eloquent with joy over the improvementin him.
"Well, then, I'm going to sleep." He raised his right hand--his goodone--and waved it gayly at them--and closed his eyes.
The Ranchman Page 22
