Rainbow Range

by Robert J. Horton

  “Well, it does,” said Arnold, regaining his composure and speaking rather harshly. “Polly has been missin’ since yesterday morning. She wasn’t home for dinner or supper and she didn’t come home last night.”

  It was Ed Wayne’s turn to stare. Gradually the force of Arnold’s hidden meaning dawned on him. He ignored it. “Maybe she’s in town,” he said. “She hasn’t been here … hasn’t been here since spring, for that matter.”

  “I don’t doubt that,” said Arnold sharply. “You know what I’m drivin’ at. I’m wonderin’ if Polly and your boy have run off.”

  Ed Wayne’s eyes hardened. “I see.” He nodded. “You’re afraid they’ve eloped. Well, Ted isn’t that kind for one thing, and for another I happen to know that he was in Rainbow all day yesterday and the night before, and last evening. That Jake Barry called the turn on him for a gun play and Ted bored him for keeps. That doesn’t sound much like an elopement, does it?”

  “A shootin’ match?” Arnold exclaimed. “Ted killed Barry? I was afraid … I was afraid …”

  “You was afraid he’d come to a bad end,” Ed Wayne put in. “Spit it out … I know what you’re thinking. But you let me do the worrying, Pete Arnold. I know Ted and Polly have been sweet on each other for a long time. We couldn’t expect anything else. You might say they were brought up together. They’re young and all that, but I don’t think Ted would run away with Polly, and I don’t think Polly would run away even if he wanted her to. That’s how much respect I’ve got for our young people.”

  Arnold was angry and showed it. “If Polly did run away, you can lay to it that Ted talked her into it,” he said hotly.

  Trouble loomed between the two stockmen and always, when they had been at loggerheads, it had been Wayne who had kept his temper. Jack McCurdy, desirous of inventing a plausible story to explain Polly Arnold’s presence in town, had not sent word to Ed Wayne that she was there lest the news get to Arnold before he could return the girl to the ranch. Thus the WP owner was unaware of the fact that Polly had gone to Rainbow.

  “Wait a minute, Pete,” said Ed Wayne coolly. “Don’t fly off the handle in this. I told you Ted was in Rainbow yesterday and last evening. Jake Barry gave him notice to leave town by sunset last night. Fred Hastings, who has the livery over there, brought me the word. I sent word to McCurdy and he went in with some of my ’punchers to see that Ted got a square deal.”

  “And maybe Polly went in, too!” exclaimed Arnold. “It would be just like her, if she heard about it and thought she could stop the gun play. When she gets an idea of a sudden, she works fast.”

  “Maybe she did.” Ed Wayne nodded. “McCurdy sent the men back and stayed in town himself to try and see Ted after the shooting. He sent word to me of what had happened by one of the men. If your girl did go in, McCurdy certainly would look after her. And if she went in, she certainly didn’t stop anything. Listen.” He told Arnold in as few words as possible what had happened in town, but he knew nothing of Polly Arnold or of Ted’s movements after the meeting with Barry.

  Arnold rose, his face white. “That’s just it,” he said grimly. “Polly went to Rainbow. I think like you, that Mac would look after her, and I’ll give Ted credit by sayin’ that I feel he’d fight till the hills tumbled for her, but she rode straight into danger if she went. You know Darling and his outfit were probably in there. I wouldn’t put anything past that blackguard. And what’s more, Ed, I’ve missed cattle from my lower range.” He paused and wiped beads of sweat from his forehead. “But that’s nothing! It’s Polly I’m thinkin’ about. You don’t suppose …?” He looked at Ed Wayne helplessly.

  Wayne rose. His face was set. “The thing to do is to get to Rainbow,” he announced. “I’m going with you.”

  In a few minutes the two stockmen were riding at a swift lope across the Bar A range. They did no talking. They passed the road leading down to the Arnold ranch house and continued on to the lower spring. It was at the spring that they met Jack McCurdy who was taking the cutoff on his fast ride back.

  McCurdy saw the question in Arnold’s eyes before the rancher could put it in words.

  “Isn’t Polly home?” asked the WP foreman.

  “No,” replied Arnold, his face going white. “Have you seen her?”

  “She was in town last night,” McCurdy answered, staring from one to the other of the two stockmen. “The night man in the livery told me one of my men called for her and took her home … or was to take her home. Did you get my message?” He put the question to Ed Wayne.

  “Yes,” said Wayne, “but you didn’t mention Polly Arnold. Did you send her home with one of our men?”

  “Great guns, no!” McCurdy exploded. “I told her to stay in her room at the hotel until morning and I’d take her home myself!”

  “Did Ted see her?” Wayne demanded. “Did he talk with her?”

  “He saw her at the hotel and talked with her. But he lit out right after the trouble with Barry was over. I don’t think he saw her after that.”

  “Go on to the ranch,” thundered Ed Wayne, “and bring every man of the Whippoorwill outfit to Rainbow as quick as you can!”

  Arnold suddenly remembered Payne. “Stop at my place,” he said hoarsely. “Tell Payne to bring the Bar A outfit along … every last man of ’em!”

  “And we’ll go on to Rainbow,” said Ed Wayne in a terrible voice.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Toward morning Polly Arnold fell asleep. When she woke, the sun was streaming through the window and someone was pounding on the door. It took her several moments to realize where she was and then the happenings of the previous night and the force of her predicament swept upon her. She had not undressed and now she rose and went to the door.

  “Who’s there?” she called before shooting back the bolt.

  “Your breakfast … if you want it,” came the sharp reply.

  She opened the door and the man who had lured her away from the hotel in Rainbow entered with her breakfast on a wooden tray. In appearance the man did not seem as honest-looking as he had the night before. His voice had been different, too. But the girl wondered if this might not be a figment of the imagination.

  “What time is it?” she asked pleasantly.

  “I don’t know,” was the gruff answer. “You mustn’t talk to me or anybody else, except the chief. I’ll tip you off that nobody’ll answer you if you do talk to ’em. It’s orders.”

  “Nice cheerful crowd,” said Polly sarcastically. “I couldn’t believe anything you told me, anyway.” She tossed him a look of scorn and turned to the stand where there was the water, soap, and towel. “Get out!” she shot back over her shoulder.

  The man had put the food down and now he hesitated a few moments. But if he had intended to say something, he thought better of it, for he went out the door, slamming it behind him.

  Polly opened it immediately. There was one thing she had to do. She must show these men she wasn’t afraid of them. For that matter, she did not feel afraid this morning, with the sunlight flooding the world, a cool breeze filtering down from the trees above the towering cliffs, and birds singing. When she had finished her ablutions, she looked out the door and was struck by the beauty of the place. The luscious grass was a deep green, sprinkled with wildflowers. There were tall, spreading cottonwoods, slim, trim alders, a few firs, and berry bushes laden with red raspberries. The cliffs were yellow and orange limestone and above them was a belt of green pines and firs that Polly suspected were on the lower slopes of the big butte.

  She sat down to her breakfast at about the same time her father was eating at the Bar A before leaving for the Whippoorwill. Polly was young and healthy, and her appetite asserted itself. Whatever Darling might have in mind, he evidently had no intention of starving her. Nor did it appear that the outlaws fared badly. Her breakfast consisted of crisp bacon, fried eggs, hot cakes, jelly, a pot of excellent coffee, and three oranges. It was hot and well cooked, and the food was of good quality. Polly
ate it all, save for two of the oranges that she put aside for later in the day. The thought uppermost in her mind was concerned with the length of time she would be held. $50,000! How could she ever forgive herself or feel the same at home again? The thought nearly spoiled her breakfast. Her father could afford to pay it, she knew, but what explanation could she make to him? What had seemed sensible when she had made her reckless decision to go to Rainbow the day before now appeared banal and silly. This realization irritated her almost to the point of anger. Then she remembered Hunter and her wrath was genuine. Darling had said Ted Wayne would come to see her. He had lied. But what could she expect of a man of his stamp?

  After breakfast she sat in the doorway of the cabin. Men were moving about the other cabins that were some little distance away. Two were saddling horses near the bank of the little stream that flowed through the canyon, or bowl. She caught the sound of rough voices but could not distinguish what was being said. She was thankful that no one paid her any attention. Darling’s orders. It was all very evident that the outlaw leader kept complete control over his followers.

  The man came in for the dishes and took them away without even throwing a glance at her. She didn’t speak to him. She wondered what had caused these men to take up such a life. Then it occurred to her that Hunter was most likely a member of the band. And Ted Wayne was traveling with him. This bothered her until she felt a growing resentment toward Wayne. After all, he was the indirect, no, the direct cause of what had happened. But she soon recognized this attitude as unfair. Then she saw Darling approaching.

  The outlaw looked different in the clear light of day. Polly saw that the eyes were hard, the lips straight and firm, the chin rugged. He nodded as he came up and the girl noted that he carried pen, ink, and paper in his left hand. On his right a gun was strapped in a worn black holster to his thigh.

  “Come inside, ma’am,” he said in a voice that was nothing short of a command.

  She followed him into the cabin as he stepped past her and put the paper, pen, and ink on the table. The note to her father. Polly’s lips curled. He had said he didn’t need any note. That, too, had been a lie.

  “You don’t have to write this unless you want to,” he said slowly. She noted that he didn’t take off his hat. “It’s up to you,” he continued. “I’m thinking a word might get you out of here quicker, that’s all. I’m not hankering to be bothered with you any length of time, and I don’t want my men to get to grumbling. They might get out of bounds.”

  “Oh, I’ll write it,” said the girl in resignation as she sat down at the table and drew the cork out of the ink bottle. “I don’t know what to say, but …”

  “I’ll tell you what to say,” Darling interrupted. “Are you ready to write?”

  “Yes, but I’m not promising to write what you say,” flared Polly.

  “You can do as you please,” said Darling coldly. “Just say … ‘I’m where Darling says I am.’ That’s all, and sign your full name so your old man will know the writing. Have you got it?”

  “Is that all you want me to write?” asked Polly, surprised.

  “That’s all. Just … ‘I’m where Darling says I am,’ … and sign it.”

  The girl wrote, “Dear Father,” and followed with the sentence Darling had dictated. Then she signed her name. She was glad she didn’t have to make any plea in the brief note.

  Darling took the paper, read what she had written, folded it, and thrust it in the pocket of his shirt. “I’ll look around and see if there’s anything in camp to read and maybe send you something,” he said. “Take it easy and don’t go more than twenty feet from this cabin. If you start to wander around, I’ll not be responsible.” He looked at her sharply, took up the pen and ink, and went out the door.

  Polly sat at the table with her hands folded and wondered how the message was to be sent and what Darling’s own message would be. She went out and sat on the doorstep again, thinking she might see the messenger leave. She had seen the men who had saddled their horses ride past the lower cabins and after a time she decided that the trail leading from the rendezvous was below the cabins. There was a cleft in the rock wall down there.

  True to his word, Darling sent the man who had brought her breakfast with some magazines. He put these down in the doorway and departed. This would indicate that the outlaw chief still was in camp. If there was anything that Polly did not want, it was the departure of Darling. She found herself relying on him for her safety.

  She went inside and lay down on the bunk. It was warm and she dozed until her dinner arrived. She did not eat much this noon. In the afternoon it was hot. The sun poured into the bowl and the cliffs caught the rays and threw them off with dazzling brilliancy. She had tried to read but found it impossible. Anyway, the magazines were well-thumbed and dirty, and covers and pages torn. Finally she slept. She awoke to find her supper on the table. The water pail had been filled with fresh, cold water and she laved her face and hands after she had taken a long, cooling drink. The sun had set.

  After supper she went outside. A cool breeze had sprung up. The cliffs were painted in all the colors of the rainbow and the sky was rose-tinted. She noted the camp was astir. Men were catching up their horses and saddling. Her spirits wavered. Were they going to move? Was she to be taken somewhere else? Or had arrangements for her release already been made? The latter seemed improbable. Then she saw Darling in front of the largest of the cabins, talking to one of the men who was mounted. Evidently he was giving orders. Shortly afterward the men rode away and disappeared in the timber below the cabins. Darling vanished.

  A shadow drifted lazily over the trees and grass and Polly looked up quickly. A cloud was riding in the pink afterglow of the sunset. It was the first cloud she had seen that day. It might be the harbinger of a storm. She felt she wouldn’t be surprised if a storm were to burst out of a clear sky. Nothing now could surprise her. Nothing …

  She caught her breath with sudden interest. Two riders had emerged from the trees below the cabins. She recognized one of them at first sight, and then, as they came nearer, she recognized the other. She hurried into the cabin and stood leaning on the table, trembling with excitement. Ted Wayne—with Hunter!

  “Remember what I told you,” Hunter was saying to Wayne as they approached the large cabin. “You’re here at your own risk, and I’m taking a long chance in bringing you.”

  “I know.” Wayne nodded, his eyes sparkling.

  “We’ll unload here,” said Hunter, indicating a spot near the big cabin.

  They dismounted, loosened the saddle cinches, and left their horses with reins dangling. Hunter led the way to the cabin. They entered a large room, with a table in the center and chairs and benches about. It looked something like a clubroom. It was unoccupied and Hunter rapped on a door at the right end of the room. “Come in,” a gruff voice invited.

  The room they entered now was small and fitted as an office.

  “’Lo, Hunter,” greeted the man at a flat-topped desk. But he didn’t look at Hunter. He gazed steadily at Wayne out of cold eyes. Wayne needed no second glance to recognize Darling.

  “This is Wayne of the Whippoorwill,” said Hunter casually. “Wanted to come along and I took a chance. His dad let him out at the ranch and he’s on a lone trail, looks like.”

  “Not as long as he’s with you,” said Darling, frowning. “But now he’s here, he’ll stay here.” He looked searchingly at his visitor. “Why did you kill Boyd?” he demanded suddenly.

  Wayne was taken aback by the abruptness of the unexpected question. “I had to, or get a slug myself,” he said stoutly, scorning any evasion with this dangerous man.

  “I saw it,” said Hunter. “Barry was trying to shove Wayne off the rim into the Hole, and …”

  “Can’t this man talk for himself?” Darling broke in with an oath.

  “I reckon he can,” drawled Hunter. “And I reckon you know all about it without asking him. I thought that white-livered Jake would
whine. But I’ll bet he didn’t tell you that Wayne made a fool out of him up there with the odds about six to one against him.”

  Darling’s eyes glittered and Wayne sensed the truth at once. Hunter was one man who wasn’t afraid of the arch outlaw. And Hunter also was a man for whom Darling had a great deal of respect. It was apparent as their glances locked that Darling didn’t wish to cross Hunter. Wayne remembered what he had heard about Hunter being sure death with his gun. Darling had the same reputation. Perhaps Darling was not sure that he could beat Hunter to it in a gun play.

  “Jake didn’t tell me anything,” said Darling, his eyes narrowing, “but nothing goes on in here that I don’t hear about. You ought to know that.” He turned his attention to Wayne. “So your old man kicked you out,” he sneered. “Maybe you’re thinking of hooking up with me to rustle some soft money.”

  “I suppose you could call it being kicked out,” said Wayne steadily. “But I’m not looking for any soft money.”

  “Then why did you come here?” Darling demanded sharply.

  “I’ll say curiosity, Darling,” replied Wayne. “I wanted to meet you, and it’s a fact that I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

  Darling stared. Then he glanced at Hunter and swore softly. “Did you hear that?” he said. “He comes here out of curiosity, and you bring him.”

  Hunter nodded and blew a smoke ring. “He’ll forget he’s been here,” he said. “I have his word and a Wayne’s word is good. You didn’t tell me you didn’t want to see him.”

  This was the first inkling Wayne had that Darling might have been aware that he might visit him. Possibly the thing had been framed. For a moment his mind bristled with suspicion of Hunter. But what would Hunter have to gain by any double-crossing?

  Darling’s queer, twisted smile was on his lips. “This is a new one,” he said, his brow puckering. “Do you want to join up with my outfit?” he asked Wayne.