"He's ridden on to the Fort to make arrangements for receiving the herd," answered the man sulkily.
"Who's the big auger left?"
"I'm the foreman, if that's what you mean?"
"Well, I've come to tell you that two of yore men are hidin' in the chaparral below Los Portales. There was trouble at Tolleson's. Two of the Lazy S M men were gunned an' one of yours was wounded."
"Which one was wounded?"
"I heard his name was Clanton."
"Suits me fine," grinned the foreman, showing two rows of broken, stained teeth. "Hope the Lazy S M boys gunned him proper."
Dad Wrayburn broke in softly. "Chicto, compadre!" ("Hush, partner!") He turned to Goodheart. "The other man with Clanton must be Billie Prince."
"Yes."
"I reckon the Lazy S M boys are lookin' for 'em."
"You guessed right first crack out of the box."
"Where are our boys holed up?"
"In a cave the other side of town. They're just beyond the big bend of the river. I'll take you there."
"You've seen 'em."
"No." Goodheart hesitated just a moment before he went on. "I was sent by the person who has seen 'em."
"Listens to me like a plant," jeered Yankie.
"Meanin' that I'm a liar?" asked Goodheart coldly.
"I wasn't born yesterday. Come clean. Who is yore friend that saw the boys?"
"I can't tell you that."
"Then yore story doesn't interest me a whole lot."
"Different here," dissented Wrayburn. "Do you know how badly Clanton is hurt, Jack?"
"No. He was able to ride out of town, but my friend told me to say he wasn't able to ride now. You'll have to send a wagon for him."
Wrayburn turned to the foreman. "Joe, we've got to go back an' help the boys."
"Not on yore topknot, Dad. I'm here to move these beeves along to the
Fort. Prince an' that Clanton may have gone on a tear an' got into
trouble or they may not. I don't care a plugged nickel which way it is.
I'm not keepin' herd on them, an' what's more I don't intend to."
"We can't leave 'em thataway. Dad gum it, we got to stand by the boys,
Joe. That's what Webb would tell us if he was here."
"But he ain't here, Dad. An' while he's gone I'm major-domo of this outfit. We're headed north, not south."
"You may be. I'm not. An' I reckon you'll find several of the boys got the same notion I have. I taken a fancy to both those young fellows, an' if I hadn't I'd go help 'em just the same."
"You ain't expectin' to ride our stock on this fool chase, are you?"
"I'll ride the first good bronc I get my knees clamped to, Joe."
"As regards that, you'll get my answer like shot off'n a shovel. None of the Flyin' V Y remuda is goin'."
Wrayburn cantered around the point of the herd to the swing, from the swing back to the drag, and then forward to the left point. In the circuit he had stopped to sound out each rider.
"We all have decided that ten of us will go back, Joe," he announced serenely. "That leaves enough to loose-herd the beeves whilst we're away."
Yankie grew purple with rage. "If you go you'll walk. I'll show you who's foreman here."
"No use raisin' a rookus, Joe," replied the old Confederate mildly.
"We're goin'. Yore authority doesn't stretch far enough to hold us here."
"I'll show you!" stormed the foreman. "Some of you will go to sleep in smoke if you try to take any of my remuda."
"Now don't you-all be onreasonable, Joe. We got to go. Cayn't you get it through yore cocoanut that we've got to stand by our pardners?"
"That killer Clanton is no pardner of mine. I meant to burn powder with him one of these days myself. If Wally Snaith beats me to it I'm not goin' to wear black," retorted Yankie.
"Sho! The kid's got good stuff in him. An' nobody could ask for a squarer pal than Billie Prince. You know that yore own self."
"You heard what I said, Dad. The Flyin' V Y horses don't take the back trail to-day," insisted the foreman stubbornly.
The wrinkled eyes of Wrayburn narrowed a little. He looked straight at
Yankie.
"Don't get biggety, Joe. I'm not askin' you or any other man whether I can ride to rescue a friend when he's in trouble. You don't own these broncs, an' if you did we'd take 'em just the same."
The voice of Wrayburn was still gentle, but it no longer pleaded for understanding. The words were clean-cut and crisp.
"I'll show you!" flung back the foreman with an oath.
When the little group of cavalry was gathered for the start, Yankie, rifle in hand, barred the way. His face was ugly with the fury of his anger.
Dad Wrayburn rode forward in front of his party. "Don't git promiscuous with that cannon of yours, Joe. You've done yore level best to keep us here. But we're goin' just the same. We-all will tell the old man how tender you was of his remuda stock. That will let you out."
"Don't you come another step closeter, Dad Wrayburn!" the foreman shouted. "I'll let you know who is boss here."
Wrayburn did not raise his voice. The drawl in it was just as pronounced, but every man present read in it a warning.
"This old sawed-off shotgun of mine spatters like hell, Joe. It always did shoot all over the United States an' Texas."
There was an instant of dead silence. Each man watched the other intently, the one cool and determined, the other full of a volcanic fury. The curtain had been rung up for tragedy.
A man stepped between them, twirling carelessly a rawhide rope.
"Just a moment, gentlemen. I think I know a way to settle this without bloodshed." Jack Goodheart looked first at the ex-Confederate, then at the foreman. He was still whirling as if from absent-minded habit the loop of his reata.
"We're here to listen, Jack. That would suit me down to the ground," answered Wrayburn.
The loop of the lariat snaked forward, whistled through the air, dropped over the head of Yankie, and tightened around his neck. A shot went wildly into the air as the rifle was jerked out of the hands of its owner, who came to the earth with sprawling arms. Goodheart ran forward swiftly, made a dozen expert passes with his fingers, and rose without a word.
Yankie had been hog-tied by the champion roper of the Southwest.
Chapter XV
Lee Plays a Leading Rôle
A man on horseback clattered up the street and drew up at the Snaith house. He was a sandy-complexioned man with a furtive-eyed, apologetic manner. Miss Bertie Lee recognized him as one of the company riders named Dumont.
"Is yore paw home, Miss Lee?" he asked breathlessly.
"Some one to see you, dad," called the girl over her shoulder.
Wallace Snaith sauntered out to the porch. "'Lo, Dumont!"
"I claim that hundred dollars reward. I done found 'em, Mr. Snaith."
Lee, about to enter the house, stopped in her tracks.
"Where?" demanded the cattleman jubilantly.
"Down the river—hid in a dugout they done built. I'll take you-all there."
"I knew they couldn't be far away when that first hawss came in all blood-stained. Hustle up four or five of the boys, Dumont. Get 'em here on the jump." In the face of the big drover could be read a grim elation.
His daughter confronted him. "What are you going to do, dad?"
"None o' yore business, Lee. You ain't in this," he answered promptly.
"You're going out to kill those men," she charged, white to the lips.
"They'll git a trial if they surrender peaceable."
"What kind of a trial?" she asked scornfully. "They know better than to surrender. They'll fight."
"That'll suit me too."
"Don't, dad. Don't do it," the girl begged. "They're game men. They fought fair. I've made inquiries. You mustn't kill them like wolves."
"Mustn't I?" he said stubbornly. "I reckon that's just what I'm goin' to do. I'll learn Homer Webb to send his bad men to Los P
ortales lookin' for trouble. He can't kill my riders an' get away with it."
"You know he didn't do that. This boy—Clanton, if that's his name—had a feud with the Roush family. One of them betrayed his sister. Far as I can find out these Roush brothers were the scum of the earth," Her bosom rose and fell fast with excitement.
"Howcome you to know so much about it, girl? Not that it makes any difference. They may have been hellhounds, but they were my riders. These gunmen went into my own place an' shot 'em down. They picked the fight. There's no manner o' doubt about that."
"They didn't do it on your account. I tell you there was an old feud."
"Webb thinks he's got the world by the tail for a downhill pull. I'll show him."
"Dad, you're starting war. Don't you see that? If you shoot these men he'll get back by killing some of yours. And so it will go on."
"I reckon. But I'm not startin' the war. He did that. It was the boldest piece of cheek I ever heard tell of—those two gunmen goin' into Tolleson's and shootin' up my riders. They got to pay the price."
Lee cried out in passionate protest. "It'll be just plain murder, dad.
That's all."
"What's got into you, girl?" he demanded, seizing her by the arms. The chill of anger and suspicion filmed his light-blue eyes. "I won't stand for this kind of talk. You go right into the house an' 'tend to yore own knittin'. I've heard about enough from you."
He swung her round by the shoulders and gave a push.
Lee did not go to her room and fling herself upon the bed in an impotent storm of tears. She stood thinking, her little fists clenched and her eyes flashing. Civilization has trained women to feebleness of purpose, but this girl stood outside of conventional viewpoints. It was her habit to move directly to the thing she wanted. Her decision was swift, the action following upon it immediate.
She lifted her rifle down from the deer-horn rack where it rested and buckled the ammunition belt around her waist. Swiftly she ran to the corral, roped her bronco, saddled it, and cinched. As she galloped away she saw her father striding toward the stable. His shout reached her, but she did not wait to hear what he wanted.
The hoofs of her pony drummed down the street. She flew across the desert and struck the river just below town. The quirt attached to her wrist rose and fell. She made no allowance for prairie-dog holes, but went at racing speed through the rabbit weed and over the slippery salt-grass bumps.
In front of the cave she jerked the horse to a halt.
"Hello, in there!"
The tumble weeds moved and the head of Prince appeared. He pushed the brush aside and came out.
"Buenos tardes, señorita. Didn't know you were comin' back again to-day."
"You've been seen," she told him hurriedly as she dismounted. "Dad's gathering his men. He means to make you trouble."
Billie looked away in the direction of the town. A mile or more away he saw a cloud of dust. It was moving toward them.
"I see he does," he answered quietly.
"Quick! Get your friend out. Take my horse."
He shook his head slowly. "No use. They would see us an' run us down.
We'll make a stand here."
"But you can't do that. They'll surround you. They'll send for more men if they need 'em."
"Likely. But Jim couldn't stand such a ride even if there was a chance—and there isn't, not with yore horse carryin' double. We'll hold the fort, Miss Lee, while you make yore get-away into the hills. An' thank you for comin'. We'll never forget all you've done for us these days."
"I'm not going."
"Not goin'?"
"I'm going to stay right here. They won't dare to shoot at you if I'm here."
"I never did see such a girl as you," admitted Prince, smiling at her.
"You take the cake. But we can't let you do that for us. We can't skulk
behind a young lady's skirts to save our hides. It's not etiquette on the
Pecos."
The red color burned through her dusky skin. "I'm not doing it for you," she said stiffly. "It's dad I'm thinking about. I don't want him mixed up in such a business. I won't have it either."
"You'd better go to him and talk it over, then."
"No. I'll stay here. He wouldn't listen to me a minute."
Billie was still patient with her. "I don't think you'd better stay, Miss Lee. I know just how you feel. But there are a lot of folks won't understand howcome you to take up with yore father's enemies. They'll talk a lot of foolishness likely."
The cowpuncher blushed at his own awkward phrasing of the situation, yet the thing had to be said and he knew no other way to say it.
She flashed a resentful glance at him. Her cheeks, too, flamed.
"I don't care what they say since it won't be true," she answered proudly. "You needn't argue. I've staked out a claim here."
"I wish you'd go. There's still time."
The girl turned on him angrily with swift, animal grace. "I tell you it's none of your business whether I go or stay. I'll do just as I please."
Prince gave up his attempt to change her mind. If she would stay, she would. He set about arranging the defense.
Young Clanton crept out to the mouth of the cave and lay down with his rifle beside him. His friend piled up the tumble weeds in front of him.
"We're right enough in front—easy enough to stand 'em off there," reflected Billie, aloud. "But I'd like to know what's to prevent us from being attacked in the rear. They can crawl up through the brush till they're right on top of the bank. They can post sharpshooters in the mesquite across the river so that if we come out to check those snakin' forward, the snipers can get us."
"I'll sit on the bank above the cave and watch 'em," announced Lee.
"An' what if they mistook you for one of us?" asked Prince dryly.
"They can't, with me wearing a red coat."
"You're bound to be in this, aren't you?" His smile was more friendly than the words. It admitted reluctant admiration of her.
The party on the other side of the river was in plain sight now. Jim counted four—five—six of them as they deployed. Presently Prince threw a bullet into the dust at the feet of one of the horses as they moved forward. It was meant as a warning not to come closer and accepted as one.
After a minute of consultation a single horseman rode to the bank of the stream.
"You over there," he shouted.
"It's dad," said Lee.
"You'd better surrender peaceable. We've come to git you alive or dead," shouted Snaith.
"What do you want us for?" asked Prince.
"You know well enough what for. You killed one of my punchers."
Clanton groaned. "Only one?"
"An' another may die any day. Come out with yore hands up."
"We'd rather stay here, thank you," Billie called back.
Snaith leaned forward in the saddle. "Is that you over there, Lee?"
"Yes, dad."
"Gone back on yore father and taken up with Webb's scalawags, have you?"
"No, I haven't," she called back. "But I'm going to see they get fair play."
"You git out of there, girl, and on this side of the river!" Snaith roared angrily. "Pronto! Do you hear?"
"There's no use shouting yourself hoarse, dad. I can hear you easily, and
I'm not coming."
"Not comin'! D'ye mean you've taken up with a pair of killers, of outlaws we 're goin' to put out of business? You talk like a—like a—"
"Go slow, Snaith!" cut in Prince sharply. "Can't you see she's tryin' to save you from murder?"
"We're goin' to take those boys back to Los Portales with us—or their bodies. I don't care a whole lot which. You light a shuck out of there, Lee."
"No," she answered stubbornly. "If you're so bent on shooting at some one you can shoot at me."
The cattleman stormed and threatened, but in the end he had to give up the point. His daughter was as obstinate as he was. He retired in volcanic humo
r.
"I never could get dad to give up swearing," his daughter told her new friends by way of humorous apology. "Wonder what he'll do now."
"Wait till night an' drive us out of our hole, I expect," replied Prince.
"Will he wait? I'm not so sure of that," said Jim. "See. His men are scattering. They're up to somethin'."
"They're going down to cross the river to get behind us just as you said they would," predicted Lee.
She was right. Half an hour later, from her position on the bank above the cave, she caught a glimpse of a man slipping forward through the brush. She called to Prince, who crept out from behind the tumble weeds to join her. A bullet dug into the soft clay not ten inches from his head. He scrambled up and lay down behind a patch of soapweed a few yards from the girl. Another bullet from across the river whistled past the cowpuncher.
Lee rose and walked across to the bushes where he lay crouched. Very deliberately she stood there, shading her eyes from the sun as she looked toward the sharpshooters. Twice they had taken a chance, because of the distance between her and Prince. She intended they should know how close she was to him now.
Billie could not conceal his anxiety for her. "Why don't you get back where you were? I got as far as I could from you on purpose. What's the sense of you comin' right up to me when you see they're shootin' at me?"
"That's why I came up closer. They'll have to stop it as long as I'm here."
"You can't stay there the rest of yore natural life, can you?" he asked with manifest annoyance. Even if he got out of his present danger alive—and Billie had to admit to himself that the chances did not look good—he knew it would be cast up to him some day that he had used Lee Snaith's presence as a shield against his enemies. "Why don't you act reasonable an' ride back to town, like a girl ought to do? You've been a good friend to us. There's nothin' more you can do. It's up to us to fight our way out."
He took careful aim and fired. A man in the bushes two hundred yards back of them scuttled to his feet and ran limping off. Billie covered the dodging man with his rifle carefully, then lowered his gun without firing.
"Let him go," said Prince aloud. "Mr. Dumont won't bother us a whole lot.
A Man Four-Square Page 10
