The Charles Alden Seltzer Megapack

by Charles Alden Seltzer

  “No shootin’ goes right now,” agreed Calumet. “But after this peace meetin’—”

  “We ought to come to terms,” said Taggart, placing his rifle in the saddle holster as Calumet’s hands came down. “There hadn’t ought to be any bad blood between us. Me an’ your dad was a heap friendly until we had a fallin’ out over that she-devil which he lived with—Ezela.” There was an insincere grin on his face.

  It was plain to Calumet that the elder Taggart had some ulterior motive in suggesting a peace conference. He noted that while Taggart talked his eyes kept roving around the clearing as though in search of something. That something, Calumet divined, was Sharp and Telza. He suspected that Calumet had seen Telza and Sharp, or one of them, enter the clearing, and had followed them. Neal had said that they had seen Calumet when he had been racing up and down the river trail; they had suspected he had been after Sharp or Telza, and had followed him. No doubt they were afflicted with a great curiosity. They were playing for time in order to discover his errand.

  “I reckon we’ll get along without mushin’,” suggested Calumet. “What terms are you talkin’ about?”

  Taggart climbed down from his pony and stood beside it.

  “Half-an’-half on the idol,” he said. “That’s square, ain’t it?” He looked at Calumet with the beginning of a bland smile, which instantly faded and turned into a grimace of fear as he found himself looking into the gaping muzzles of Calumet’s pistols, which had appeared with magic ease and quickness.

  “I’m runnin’ a little surprise party of my own,” declared Calumet. “Was you thinkin’ I was fool enough to go to gassin’ with you, trustin’ that you wouldn’t take your chance to perforate me? You’ve got another guess comin’.”

  The disappointed gleam in Taggart’s eyes showed that such had been his intention. “There wasn’t to be no shootin’ until after we’d held our peace meetin’,” he complained.

  “Correct,” said Calumet. “But the peace meetin’ is now over. Get your sky-hooks clawin’ at the clouds!” he warned coldly as Neal hesitated. When both had raised their hands above their heads he deftly plucked their weapons from their holsters. Then, alert and watchful, he drew the elder Taggart’s rifle from its sling on the saddle and threw it a dozen feet away.

  “Now just step over to that bunch of mesquite,” he ordered; “there’s somethin’ there that I want to show you.”

  In obedience to his command they went forward. Both came to a halt when around the edge of the mesquite clump they saw the dead body of Sharp, with the handkerchief over his face. Neither recognized the man until Calumet drew the handkerchief away, and then both started back.

  “Know him, eh?” said Calumet, watching them narrowly. “Well, he done his duty—done what you wanted him to do. But your man, Telza, double-crossed him—knifed him.” He took up the rapier-like blade that he had drawn from Sharp’s side and held it before their eyes. Again they started, and Calumet laughed.

  “Know the knife, too!” he jeered. “An’ after what you’ve done you’ve got the nerve to ask me to divvy with you.”

  The elder Taggart was the first to recover his composure.

  “Telza?” he said. “Why, I reckon you’ve got me; there ain’t no one of that name—”

  But Calumet was close to him, his eyes blazing. “Shut your dirty mouth, or I’ll tear you apart!” he threatened. “You’re a liar, an’ you know it. Sharp told me about you settin’ the Toltec on Betty. I know the rest. I know you tried to make a monkey out of my dad, you damned old ossified scarecrow! If you open your trap again, I’ll just naturally pulverize you! I reckon that’s all I’ve got to say to you.”

  He walked over to Neal, and the latter shrank from the bitter malignance of his gaze.

  “Can you tell me why I ain’t lettin’ daylight through you?” he said as he shoved the muzzle of his six-shooter deep into Neal’s stomach, holding it there with savage steadiness as he leaned forward and looked into the other’s eyes. “It’s because I ain’t a sneak an’ a murderer. I ain’t ambushin’ nobody. I’ve done some killin’ in my time, but I ain’t never plugged no man who didn’t have the same chance I had. I’m givin’ you a chance.”

  He drew out one of the weapons he had taken from the two men, holding it by the muzzle and thrusting it under Neal’s nose. The terrible, suppressed rage in his eyes caused a shiver to run over Neal, his face turned a dull white, his eyes stared fearfully. He made no move to grasp the weapon.

  “I ain’t fightin’,” he said with trembling lips.

  Calumet reversed the gun and stepped back, laughing harshly, without mirth.

  “Of course you ain’t fightin’,” he said. “That’s the reason it’s goin’ to be hard for me to kill you. I’d feel like a cur if I was to perforate you now—you or your scarecrow dad. But I’m tellin’ you this: You’ve sneaked around the Lazy Y for the last time. I’m layin’ for you after this, an’ if I ketch you maverickin’ around here again I’ll perforate you so plenty that it’ll make you dizzy. That’s all. Get out of here before I change my mind!”

  Shrinking from his awe-inspiring wrath, they retreated from him, watching him fearfully as they backed toward their horses. They had almost reached them when Calumet’s voice brought them to a halt.

  His lips were wreathed in a cold grin, his eyes alight with a satanic humor. But the rage had gone from his voice; it was mocking, derisive.

  “Goin’ to ride?” he said. “Oh, don’t! Them horses look dead tired. Leave them here; they need a rest. Besides, a man can’t do any thinkin’ to amount to anything when he’s forkin’ a horse, an’ I reckon you two coyotes will be doin’ a heap of thinkin’ on your way back to the Arrow.”

  “Good Lord!” said the elder Taggart; “you don’t mean that? Why, it’s fifteen miles to the Arrow!”

  “Shucks,” said Calumet; “so it is! An’ it’s after midnight, too. But you wouldn’t want them poor, respectable critters to be gallivantin’ around at this time of the night, when they ought to be in bed dreamin’ of the horse-heaven which they’re goin’ to one of these days when the Taggarts don’t own them any more. You can send a man over after them when you get back, an’ if they want to go home, why, I’ll let them.” His voice changed again; it rang with a menacing command.

  “Walkin’ is good!” he said; “get goin’! You’ve got three minutes to get to that bend in the trail over by the crick. It’s about half a mile. I’m turnin’ my back. If I see you when I turn around I’m workin’ that rifle there.”

  There was a silence which might have lasted a second. Only this small space of time was required by the Taggarts to convince them that Calumet was in deadly earnest. Then, with Neal leading, they began to run toward the bend in the trail.

  Shortly Calumet turned. The Taggarts had almost reached the bend, and while he watched they vanished behind it.

  Calumet picked up the rifle which he had taken from the elder Taggart, mounted his horse, and drove the Taggart animals into the corral. He decided that he would keep them there for an hour or so, to give the Taggarts time to get well on their way toward the Arrow. Had he turned them loose immediately they no doubt would have overtaken their masters before the latter had gone very far.

  Remounting, Calumet rode to the bend in the trail. He carried Taggart’s rifle. About a mile out on the plain that stretched away toward the Arrow he saw the two men. They seemed to be walking rapidly.

  Calumet returned to the ranchhouse, got a pick and shovel, and went back to the timber clump. An hour later he was again at the corral. He led the Taggart horses out, took them to the bend in the trail, and turned them loose, for he anticipated that the Taggarts would make a complaint to the sheriff about them, and if they were found in the Lazy Y corral trouble would be sure to result.

  He watched them until they were well on their way toward the Arrow, and then he returned to the ranchhouse and went to bed. No one had heard him, he told himself with a grin as he stretched out on the bed besid
e Dade to sleep the hour that would elapse before daylight.

  CHAPTER XX

  BETTY TALKS FRANKLY

  Betty, however, had not been asleep. After seeking her room she had heard the rapid beat of hoofs, and, looking out of her window, she had seen Calumet when he had raced from the ranchhouse in search of Taggart. Still watching at the window, she had seen him returning; saw him disappear into the timber clump.

  Some time later she had observed the Taggarts emerge and run as though their lives depended on haste. She watched Calumet as he rode by her window to take the two horses to the corral, stared at him with fascinated eyes, holding her breath with horror as he walked from the ranchhouse to the timber clump with the pick and shovel on his shoulder; stood at the window with a great fear gripping her until he came back, still carrying the pick and shovel; watched him as he released the Taggart horses, drove them to the bend in the trail, and returned to the house. His movements had been stealthy, but she heard him when he came into the house and mounted the stairs. Then she heard him no more.

  But a great dread was upon her. What meant that journey to the timber clump with the pick and shovel, and what had been done there during the hour that he had remained there? The idol she knew, was buried in a clearing in the timber clump; she did not know just where, for she had looked at the diagram only once, when Calumet’s father had shown it to her. She had a superstitious dread of the idol and would not, under any circumstances, have examined the diagram again. But she did not connect Calumet’s visit to the timber clump with the diagram, for the latter was concealed in a safe place, under a board in the closet that led off her room; she had looked at it only once since Calumet had returned, and that only hastily, to make sure that it was still there, and she was certain that Calumet had no knowledge of its whereabouts.

  Could Calumet have— She pressed her hands tightly over her breast at this thought. She did not want to think that! But he had a violent temper, and there were those men in Lazette, Denver and the other man, whom he had— She shuddered. That must be the explanation for his strange actions. But still she had heard no shot, and there was a chance that the diagram—

  Tremblingly she made her way to the closet and removed the loose board. A tin box met her eyes, the box in which she had placed the diagram, and she lifted the box out, her fingers shaking as she fumbled at the fastening and raised the lid.

  The box was empty.

  For a long time she sat there looking at it, anger and resentment fighting within her for the mastery.

  Of course, the idol really belonged to Calumet; she would have given it to him in time, but that thought did not lessen her resentment against him. Somehow, though, she was conscious of a feeling of gratefulness that his visit to the timber clump had no significance beyond the recovery of the idol, and, despite his offense against her privacy, she began after a while to view the matter with greater calm. And though she did not close her eyes during the remainder of the night, lying on her back in bed and wondering how he had discovered the hiding place of the diagram, she came downstairs shortly after daylight and proceeded calmly about her duties.

  She managed, though, to be near the kitchen door when Calumet came down, and, without appearing to do so, she watched his face closely as he prepared himself for breakfast. But without result. If he had gained possession of the idol his face did not betray him. But once during the meal she looked up unexpectedly, to see him looking at her with amused, speculative eyes. Then she knew he was gloating over her.

  With an appearance of grave concern, and not a little well-simulated excitement, she approached him during the morning where he was working at the corral fence. She was determined to discover the truth.

  “I have some bad news for you,” she said.

  “Shucks,” he returned, with a grin that almost disarmed her; “you don’t say!”

  “Yes,” she continued. “When your father left his other papers with me he also left a diagram of a place in the timber clump where the idol is hidden. Some time yesterday the diagram was stolen.”

  “You don’t say?” he said.

  His voice had not been convincing enough; there had been a note of mockery in it, and she knew he was guilty of the theft.

  She looked at him fairly. “You took it,” she accused.

  “I didn’t take it,” he denied, returning her gaze. “But I’ve got it. What are you goin’ to do about it?”

  “Nothing,” she replied. “But do you think that was a gentleman’s action—to enter my room, to search it—even for something that belonged to you?”

  “No gentleman took it,” he grinned; “therefore it couldn’t have been me. I told you I had it; I didn’t take it.”

  “Who did, then?”

  “Do you know Telza?”

  “Telza?”

  “Toltec,” he said; “a Toltec from Yucatan. He got it yesterday—last night—while you was gassin’ to your friend, Neal Taggart.”

  She started, recollection filling her eyes. “A Toltec!” she said in an awed voice. “I have heard that they are fanatics where their religion is concerned; your father told me that his—that woman—Ezela—told him. She said that the tribe would never give up the search for the idol. He laughed at her; he laughed at me when he told me about it.” She drew a deep breath. “And so one of them has come,” she said. “I thought I heard a noise upstairs last night,” she added. “It must have been then.”

  “An’,” he jeered, “you was so busy about that time that you couldn’t go to investigate. That’s how you guarded it—how you filled your trust.”

  She gazed fixedly at him and his gaze dropped. “You are determined to continue your insults,” she said coldly.

  He reddened. “I reckon you deserve them,” he said sneeringly. “Taggart’s makin’ a fool of you. I heard him palaverin’ to you last night. I followed him, but lost him. Then I got into the clearin’ in the timber. I run into a man named Al Sharp, who’d been knifed by the Toltec. Him an’ the Toltec had been detailed by Taggart to get the diagram. Sharp said Taggart knowed my dad had drawed one. Telza got it last night while you was talkin’ to Taggart. Frame-up. Sharp tried to take it away from Telza, an’ Telza knifed him. Sharp’s dead. I buried him last night. Telza dropped the diagram. I got it. I reckon Telza has sloped. Then I met Taggart an’ his dad. They reckoned they didn’t like my company overmuch an’ they walked home. Didn’t even wait to take their horses.”

  She drew a breath which sounded strangely like relief.

  “Well,” she said; “it was fortunate that you happened to be there to get the idol.”

  “Yes,” he drawled, with a suspicious grin; “I reckon you feel a whole lot like congratulatin’ me.”

  “I do,” she said. “Of course you were not to have the idol just yet, but it is better for you to have it before the time than that the Taggarts should get hold of it.”

  “Do you know where the idol is hid?” he asked.

  She told him no, that she had never consulted the diagram.

  “I reckon,” he said, looking into her steady eyes, “that you’re tellin’ the truth. In that case it will be safe where it is, for a while. I’ll be lookin’ it up when I get hold of the money.”

  Her chin raised triumphantly. “You will not get that so easily,” she said. “But,” she added, interestedly, “now that you know where the idol is, why don’t you get it and convert it into cash?”

  He reddened and eyed her with a decidedly crestfallen air. “I ain’t so much stuck on monkeyin’ with them religious things,” he admitted.

  Again a doubt arose in his mind concerning her relations with Neal Taggart. The fact that she had not divulged the hiding place of the idol to him was proof that if he had been trying to deceive her he had not succeeded. This thought filled him with a sudden elation.

  “Lately,” he said, “it begins to look as though you was gettin’ some sense. You’re gettin’ reasonable. I reckon you’ll be a bang-up girl, give you time.”
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br />   Her lips curled, but there was a flash of something in her eyes that he could not analyze. But he was sure that it wasn’t anger or disapproval. Neither was it scorn. It seemed to him that it might have been mockery, mingled with satisfaction. Certainly there was mockery in her voice when she answered him.

  “Indeed!” she said. “I presume I am to take that as a compliment?”

  “But you will be a fool if you cotton up to Neal Taggart,” he continued, paying no attention to her question. “I know men. Taggart’s a no good fourflusher, an’ no woman can be anything if she takes up with him.”

  She looked at him with a dazzling smile. In the smile were those qualities that he had noticed during his other conversations with her when he had accused her of meeting Taggart secretly—mirth, tempered with doubt. Also, just now there was enjoyment.

  “I feel flattered to think that you are taking that much interest in me,” she said. “But when I am in need of someone to lay down rules of conduct for me I shall let you know. At present I feel quite competent to take care of myself. But if you are very much worried, I don’t mind telling you that I have not ‘cottoned up’ to Neal Taggart.”

  “What you meetin’ him for, then?” he asked suspiciously.

  “I have not met Neal Taggart since the day you made him apologize to me,” she said slowly.

  “Who are you meetin’, then?” he demanded.

  She looked straight at him. “I cannot answer that,” she said.

  His lips curled with disbelief, and her cheeks flushed a little.

  “Can’t you trust anybody?” she said.

  “Why,” she continued as he kept silent, “don’t you think that if I had intended, as you said once before, to cheat you, to take anything that belongs to you, that I could have done so long ago? I had the diagram; I could have kept the idol, the money, the ranch. What could you have done; what could you do now? Don’t you think it is about time for you to realize that you are hurting no one but yourself by harboring such black, dismal thoughts. Nobody is trying to cheat you—except probably the Taggarts. Everybody here is trying their best to be friendly to you, trying to aid in making those reforms which your father mentioned. Dade likes you; Bob loves you. And even my grandfather said the other day that you are not a bad fellow. You have been making progress, more than I expected you to make. But you must make more.”