The Fighting Edge

by William MacLeod Raine

  CHAPTER XXVII

  PARTNERS IN PERIL

  Into the office of Blister Haines, J. P., a young man walked. He was aberry-brown youth, in the trappings of the range-rider, a little thin andstringy, perhaps, but well-poised and light-stepping.

  With one swift glance the fat man swept his visitor from head to foot andliked what he saw. The lean face was tanned, the jaw firm, the eye directand steady. There was no need to tell this man to snap up his head. Eightmonths astride a saddle in the sun and wind had wrought a change inRobert Dillon.

  "'Lo, Red Haid," the justice sang out squeakily. "How's yore good health?I heerd you was d-drowned. Is you is, or is you ain't? Sit down an' restyore weary bones."

  "I took a swim," admitted Bob. "The boys fished me out while I was stillkickin'."

  "Rivers all high?"

  "Not so high as they were. We noticed quite a difference on the wayback."

  "Well, s-sit down an' tell me all about it. How do you like ridin', Texasman?"

  "Like it fine."

  "All yore troubles blown away?"

  "Most of 'em. I'm a long way from being a wolf yet, though."

  "So? B-by the way, there's a friend of yours in town--Jake Houck."

  There was a moment's pause. "Did he say he was my friend?" asked Bob.

  "Didn't mention it. Thought maybe you'd like to know he's here. It's notlikely he'll trouble you."

  "I'd be glad to be sure of that. Dud an' I had a little run-in with himlast month. He wasn't hardly in a position then to rip loose, seein' ashe had my horse an' saddle in his camp an' didn't want Harshaw in hiswool. So he cussed us out an' let it go at that. Different now. I'mplayin' a lone hand--haven't got the boss back of me."

  "F-fellow drifted in from Vernal yesterday," the justice piped, easinghimself in his chair. "Told a s-story might interest you. Said Jake Houckhad some trouble with a y-young Ute buck over a hawss. Houck had beendrinkin', I reckon. Anyhow he let the Injun have it in the stomach.Two-three shots outa his six-gun. The Utes claimed it was murder. Jake hedidn't wait to adjust no claims, but lit out on the jump."

  "Won't the Government get him?"

  The fat man shrugged. "Oh, well, a Ute's a Ute. Point is that Houck, whoalways was a t-tough nut, has gone bad since the boys rode him on a rail.He's proud as Lucifer, an' it got under his hide. He's kinda cuttin'loose an' givin' the devil in him free rein. Wouldn't surprise me if heturned into a killer of the worst kind."

  Bob's eyes fastened to his uneasily. "You think he's--after me?"

  "I think he'll d-do to watch."

  "Yes, but--"

  Blister rolled a cigarette and lit it before he asked casually, "Stayin'long in town?"

  "Leavin' to-day for the ranch."

  "What size gun you carry for rattlesnakes?"

  "Mine's a forty-five." Bob took it out, examined it, and thrust theweapon between his trousers and his shirt. If he felt any mentaldisturbance he did not show it except in the anxious eyes.

  Blister changed the subject lightly. "Hear anything ab-b-bout the Utesrisin'? Any talk of it down the river?"

  "Some. The same old stuff. I've been hearin' it for a year."

  "About ripe, looks like. This business of Houck ain't gonna help any.There's a big bunch of 'em over there in the hills now. They've beenrunnin' off stock from outlying ranches."

  "Sho! The Indians are tamed. They'll never go on the warpath again,Blister."

  "J-just once more, an' right soon now."

  The justice gave his reasons for thinking so, while Bob listened ratherinattentively. The boy wanted to ask him about June, but he rememberedwhat his fat friend had told him last time he mentioned her to him. Hewas still extremely sensitive about his failure to protect his girl-wifeand he did not want to lay himself open to snubs.

  Bob sauntered from the office, and before he had walked a dozen stepscame face to face with June. She was coming out of a grocery with somepackages in her arms. The color flooded her dusky cheeks. She looked athim, startled, like a fawn poised for flight.

  During the half-year since he had seen her June had been transformed. Shehad learned the value of clothes. No longer did she wear a shapeless sackfor a dress. Her shoes were small and shapely, her black hair neatlybrushed and coiffed. The months had softened and developed the lines ofthe girlish figure. Kindness and friendliness had vitalized theexpression of the face and banished its sullenness. The dark eyes, withjust a hint of wistful appeal, were very lovely.

  Both of them were taken unawares. Neither knew what to do or say. Afterthe first instant of awkwardness June moved forward and passed himsilently.

  Bob went down the street, seeing nothing. His pulses trembled withexcitement. This charming girl was his wife, or at least she once hadbeen for an hour. She had sworn to love, honor, and obey him. There hadbeen a moment in the twilight when they had come together to the verge ofsomething divinely sweet and wonderful, when they had gazed into eachother's eyes and had looked across the boundary of the promised land.

  If he had only kept the faith with her! If he had stood by her in thehour of her great need! The bitterness of his failure ate into the soulof the range-rider as it had done already a thousand times. It did notmatter what he did. He could never atone for the desertion on theirwedding day. The horrible fact was written in blood. It could not beerased. Forever it would have to stand between them. An unbridgeable gulfseparated them, created by his shameless weakness.

  When Bob came to earth he found himself clumping down the river roadmiles from town. He turned and walked back to Bear Cat. His cowpony wasat the corral and he was due at the ranch by night.

  Young Dillon's thoughts had been so full of June and his relation to herthat it was with a shock of surprise he saw Jake Houck swing out from thehotel porch and bar the way.

  "Here's where you 'n' me have a settlement," the Brown's Park manannounced.

  "I'm not lookin' for trouble," Bob said, and again he was aware of aheavy sinking at the stomach.

  "You never are," jeered Houck. "But it's right here waitin' for you, Mr.Rabbit Heart."

  Bob heard the voices of children coming down the road on their way fromschool. He knew that two or three loungers were watching him and Houckfrom the doors of adjacent buildings. He was aware of a shouting andcommotion farther up the street. But these details reached him onlythrough some subconscious sense of absorption. His whole attention wasconcentrated on the man in front of him who was lashing himself into afighting rage.

  What did Houck mean to do? Would he throw down on him and kill? Or wouldhe attack with his bare hands? Fury and hatred boiled into the big man'sface. His day had come. He would have his revenge no matter what it cost.Bob could guess what hours of seething rage had filled Houck's world. Thefreckle-faced camp flunkey had interfered with his plans, snatched fromhim the bride he had chosen, brought upon him a humiliation that must begall to his proud spirit whenever he thought of Bear Cat's primitivejustice. He would pay his debt in full.

  The disturbance up the street localized itself. A woman picked up herskirts and flew wildly into a store. A man went over the park fencealmost as though he had been shot out of a catapult. Came the crack of arevolver. Some one shouted explanation. "Mad dog!"

  A brindle bull terrier swung round the corner and plunged forward. Withbristling hair and foaming mouth, it was a creature of horrible menace.

  Houck leaped for the door of the hotel. Bob was at his heels, in a panicto reach safety.

  A child's scream rang out. Dillon turned. The school children were inwild flight, but one fair-haired little girl stood as though paralyzed inthe middle of the road. She could not move out of the path of the wildbeast bearing down upon her.

  Instinctively Bob's mind functioned. The day was warm and his coat hungover an arm. He stepped into the road as the brindle bull came oppositethe hotel. The coat was swung out expertly and dropped over the animal'shead. The cowpuncher slipped to his knees, arms tightening and fingersfeeling for the throat of the writhing b
rute struggling blindly.

  Its snapping jaws just missed his hand. Man and dog rolled over into thedust together. Its hot breath fanned Bob's face. Again he was astride ofthe dog. His fingers had found its throat at last. They tightened, inspite of its horrible muscular contortions to get free.

  There came a swish of skirts, the soft pad of running feet. A girl'svoice asked, "What shall I do?"

  It did not at that moment seem strange to Dillon that June was besidehim, her face quick with tremulous anxiety. He spoke curtly, as one whogives orders, panting under the strain of the effort to hold the dog.

  "My gun."

  She picked the forty-five up from where it had fallen. Their eyes met.The girl did swiftly what had to be done. It was not until she was alonein her room half an hour later that the thought of it made her sick.

  Bob rose, breathing deep. For an instant their eyes held fast. She handedhim the smoking revolver. Neither of them spoke.

  From every door, so it seemed, people poured and converged toward them.Excited voices took up the tale, disputed, explained, offered excuses.Everybody talked except June and Bob.

  Blister rolled into the picture. "Dawg-gone my hide if I ever seeanything to b-beat that. He was q-quick as c-chain lightnin', the boywas. Johnny on the spot. Jumped the critter s-slick as a whistle." Hisfat hand slapped Bob's shoulder. "The boy was sure there with both handsand feet."

  "What about June?" demanded Mollie. "Seems to me she wasn't more'n a mileaway while you men-folks were skedaddlin' for cover."

  The fat man's body shook with laughter. "The boys didn't s-stop to makeany farewell speeches, tha's a fact. I traveled some my own self, but Ihadn't hardly got started before Houck was outa sight, an' him claimin'he was lookin' for trouble too."

  "Not that kind of trouble," grinned Mike the bartender. He could affordto laugh, for since he had been busy inside he had not been one of thevanishing heroes. "Don't blame him a mite either. If it comes to that I'mgivin' the right of way to a mad dog every time."

  "Hmp!" snorted Mollie. "What would 'a' happened to little Maggie Wigginsif Dillon here had felt that way?"

  Bob touched Blister on the arm and whispered in his ear. "Get me to thedoc. I gotta have a bite cauterized."

  It was hardly more than a scratch, but while the doctor was making hispreparations the puncher went pale as service-berry blossoms. He satdown, grown suddenly faint. The bite of a mad dog held sinisterpossibilities.

  Blister fussed around cheerfully until the doctor had finished. "Everysilver l-lining has got its cloud, don't you r-reckon? Here's Jake Houcknow, all s-set for a massacree. He's a wolf, an' it's his night to howl.Don't care who knows it, by gum. Hands still red from one killin'. Arip-snortin' he-wolf from the bad lands! Along comes Mr. Mad Dog, an'Jake he hunts his hole with his tail hangin'. Kinda takes the tuck outahim. Bear Cat wouldn't hardly stand for him gunnin' you now, Bob. Notafter you tacklin' that crazy bull terrier to save the kids. He'll haveto postpone that settlement he was promisin' you so big."

  The puncher voiced the fear in his mind. "Do folks always go mad whenthey're bit by a mad dog, doctor?"

  "Not a chance hardly," Dr. Tuckerman reassured. "First place, the dogprobably wasn't mad. Second place, 't wa'n't but a scratch and we got atit right away. No, sir. You don't need to worry a-tall."

  Outside the doctor's office Blister and Bob met Houck. The Brown's Parkman scowled at the puncher. "I'm not through with you. Don't you thinkit! Jus' because you had a lucky fluke escape--"

  "Tacklin' a crazy wild beast whilst you an' me were holin' up," Blisterinterjected.

  Houck looked at the fat man bleakly. "You in this, Mr. Meddler? If you'renot declarin' yoreself in, I'd advise you to keep out."

  Blister Haines laughed amiably with intent to conciliate. "What's the useof nursin' a grudge against the boy, Houck? He never did you any harm.S-shake hands an' call it off."

  "You manage yore business if you've got any. I'll run mine," retortedHouck. To Bob he said meaningly as he turned away, "One o' these days,young fellow."

  The threat chilled Dillon, but it was impossible just now to remaindepressed. He rode back to the ranch in a glow of pleasure. Thoughts ofJune filled every crevice of his mind. They had shared an adventuretogether, had been partners in a moment of peril. She could not whollydespise him now. He was willing to admit that Houck had been right whenhe called it a fluke. The chance might not have come to him, or he mightnot have taken it. The scream of little Maggie Wiggins had saved the dayfor him. If he had had time to think--but fortunately impulse had swepthim into action before he could let discretion stop him.

  He lived over again joyfully that happy moment when June had stood beforehim pulsing with life, eager, fear-filled, tremulous. He had taken theupper hand and she had accepted his leadership. The thing his eyes hadtold her to do she had done. He would remember that--he would remember italways.

  Nor did it dim his joy that he felt himself to be a fraud. It had takenno pluck to do what he did, since he had only obeyed a swift dominatingmental reaction to the situation. The real courage had been hers.

  He knew now that he would have to take her with him in his thoughts onmany a long ride whether he wanted to or not.