Rimrock Trail

by J. Allan Dunn

  CHAPTER XX

  MOLLY MINE

  Sandy, replacing the blanket on Wyatt's face, examined his guns andstarted climbing up to the big boulder. He could not see the rocksdisplaced by Brandon's men from below, but he picked up the bloodyimprint of Grit's pad, with other smears of blood less distinctlymarked. Soon he discovered the narrow opening and proceeded cautiously.The moon was quite bright now and the daylight almost vanished. Only theafterglow still flamed in the eastern sky back of the violet cliffs. Thetouch of night chill was already threatening, great stars wereassembling court about the moon.

  To Sandy's right was perpendicular rock, to his left the curve of theblocking boulder with the skeleton tree topping it, withered in thecleft that had first nourished, then denied it nourishment. It gleamedsilver gray, attracting his attention. As he gazed his sharp ears caughtthe tiny crack of a brittle branch. Instantly he dropped to all fours asa spurt of flame showed from the tree and a bullet whined over him, tosmack against the rock and fall flattened.

  Sandy did not move. He knew that, to the man firing, his fall might haveseemed a hit, that he had beaten the missile by the space of a wink. Heheard more broken boughs, as if his assailant were clumsily, assuredly,clambering out of ambush, and he shifted silently into position, rifleset down, both guns ready. There came a strange thrashing sound, a groanof mortal anguish, silence. If this was a trick it was a crude one.Sandy waited. That groan, half sigh, half rattle, could not be mistaken.He half circled the boulder, gliding up a flattened traverse, and saw,lying outspread over a low bough of the withered tree, face to the moon,gun away from the curling hand, Butch Parsons.

  With ready gun Sandy reached him, bent, turned him on his side. A bullethad ranged through both hips, shattering them. The spine must have beeninjured. There were puddles of blood that told the injury was some hoursold. Butch had lain there paralyzed, passed by Brandon's men as dead,lingering like the traditional snake until sunset to see and recognizeSandy coming through the gap, to use his last remnant of life to pulltrigger and so to die, the injured vertebrae giving away to the effort,the spark of life pinched out.

  Sandy left him and returned to the gap. He could still read sign, plainas it was on every side. He found the side-gulch, saw the cabin, sawHahn's saddled horse grazing free, Blaze in the corral, the cabin dooropen with the moon streaming in. He had pieced out the puzzle to his ownsatisfaction. Brandon and his men had arrived and, in Hereford, they hadrun across Wyatt, procuring horses there and saving themselves the tripto the Three Star. Butch's body was evidence that they had not beenunsuccessful, Wyatt's that the fight had not been all one-sided, thesurprise not perfect. And, if Plimsoll had been warned, what had becomeof Molly?

  He got an answer that made his heart stand still, then pound in a rushof action. On the floor, in the beam of the moon, lay the luck-piece, afew links of gold chain attached to the coin. Stooping for it, hebrushed a strand of brown hair. Then he saw Grit's body beneath thetable. Fury boiled in him, chilled to icy wrath and determination. Heput away the coin and hauled out the dog's body into the moonlight. Itwas limber and still warm. Sandy rose from his squat and swiftlyexamined the cabin. He discovered a lantern with oil in it, which helit. The condition of the fire, corroborating other signs, told him thatthe fighting was long over with, the issue passed on. He had no fear ofinterruption. Before very long Sam and the Three Star riders would bealong. The sight of Blaze suggested that Molly was not far away. If shehad gone, by force, or her own free will, the probability was that herown mount and saddle would have been requisitioned.

  Sandy's capacity for reading sign was almost without limit. He wasbetter at it than an Indian because he had equally good observation andbetter judgment. But, to find Molly, with the ground about the cabin cutby arriving and departing feet and hooves, with Blaze in the corral,was a miracle that called for more than eyesight and deduction. If hecould revive Grit...?

  He found water warm in a kettle; he had the first-aid kit with itsbandages, iodine, lint. And, above all, he had Keith's silver flask,half full. He did not fail to note the empty bottles on the table, theblood marks where Plimsoll's veins had sprinkled and Grit had stainedthe floor. He found, too, a button of horn with a fragment of black andwhite check, torn from Molly's riding coat in the struggle. Sandy'sanger crystallized into one ambition beyond the finding of Molly, andthat was to kill Plimsoll, if possible with his hands. He pictured thestruggle between the gambler and the girl, desperate on one side, brutalon the other and, whether the stake had been won or lost, he resolvedthat Plimsoll should die for that attack.

  Now his hope hung on Grit. He squatted on the floor by the lantern, agun handy in case of need. He took the collie's head on his lap andexamined the blow made by the butt of Plimsoll's gun. It had laid barethe bone but he did not think it either splintered or fractured. Grit'stongue lolled out from between his teeth and his muzzle was dry, yetSandy fancied breath still passed the nostrils and that there was afaint beat of heart beneath the heavy draggled coat, matted with theblood that had drained life from him. Sandy knew that dog or wolf orcoyote will lie in a torpor after being badly wounded and often recoverslowly, waking from the recuperating sleep revitalized. But, if hecould bring Grit back, he must make fresh demands on him.

  He washed the wound on the head and poured iodine into it. He did thesame with the hole in the leg, cleansing it from the dried blood andhair. It had stopped bleeding. He disinfected it, stitched it, closedit, bound it with adhesive tape and strengthened it with a bandageadjusted as expertly as any surgeon could have done. He pried open thejaws with but little resistance and let the tongue slip back before hepoured in a measure of Scotch and water between the canine and incisorteeth. He tilted Grit's limp head, shut off his muzzle, stroked histhroat and let the restorative trickle into the gullet. For a momentthere was no response, then Grit coughed, choked, swallowed. Sandyrepeated the dose with less water. It went down naturally. Almostimmediately he felt the heart stroke strengthen. Grit sneezed, openedhis eyes and feebly thumped his tail as he licked Sandy's hand.

  "Grit, ol' pardner," said Sandy seriously, the dog's head between hishands, "yo're sure mussed up a heap an' I hate to do it, but I got tocall on you, son. Mebbe it won't be such a long trick, but I can't gitby without yore nose, Grit. It's worth more'n all I've got. An' I knowyo're game. I'm goin' to give you some mo' of Keith's special Scotch,which I sure had a hunch w'ud come in handy, an' then we'll try it."

  Grit wagged his tail more vigorously and tried to get on his feet, butSandy prevented him until the third dose was administered. Then hecarried the dog outside to save him every foot of unnecessary progress,and set him down. The collie stood up, wabbly on one foot but able tostand, looking eagerly at Sandy, commencing to snuff the air. Sandy lethim smell the coin, the strand of hair, the piece of cloth and, with hiskeenest sense stimulated with the perfume that stood to Grit for love,the dog wrinkled his nose and cast around. But he led direct to Blazeand stood by the horse uncertain while Blaze nosed down at him.

  "Carried out of the cabin, son," said Sandy. "We'll guess at Plimsoll.He's got clear of the locality. Blaze knows but he can't tell. We've gotto cast about." He picked up the dog again, puzzled, and looked abouthim in the gulch, suffused with moonlight. "There sh'ud be soft dirtunder those asps, let's give a look-see there."

  They had not gone five feet into the trees before man and dog made asimultaneous discovery. For Sandy it was a heel-mark left by Plimsoll,treading heavily under his burden, a slight depression enough, but plainto Sandy. Grit began to struggle in his arms. Molly's hair or body musthave brushed against lower boughs at the same height that Sandy carriedthe wounded Grit and the scent still clung.

  "They c'udn't go fur in this direction by the looks of the place, Grit,"said Sandy. "See what you can make of it." He put him down by theheel-print. Grit uttered a low growl deep back in his throat, his rufflifted. Hatred replaced love, but the two odors and emotions wereinextricably linked for Grit that day. He started off, hobbli
ng along,leading truly over rock or sand, into the cove where the split rock lay,its crevice black, the vine curving down into it like a serpent. WherePlimsoll had laid her down Grit halted and raised his head, his tongueplaying in and out of his jaws in his triumphant excitement, his eyesluminous, his tail waving like the plume of a knight. Sandy gentlypatted him, pressed him down to a crouch.

  "Down charge, Grit," he whispered in his ear. "You've got it. You stayhere." Sandy had left his rifle at the cabin when he carried Grit out,now he spun the two cylinders of his Colts, lowered himself into thesplit, holding on to the vine, looking straight into Grit's lambenteyes.

  "Stay here, son," he said softly, and Grit licked the face now on alevel with his own. "I'll be back."

  Sandy doubted whether he would find Plimsoll in this rock hollow, or anyone but Molly. There had been the one horse saddled and grazing free,but that might have belonged to the dead man by the withered tree. Itmade little difference. There was, to him, the certainty that Molly wasthere and there was no other way of finding out or getting to her. Hehad adventured more dangerous chances than this.

  He felt his legs dangle into space and his hands found a curving loop inthe vine trunk that sagged slightly under his weight. Extended at fulllength, his toes touched bottom. Letting go, he dropped lightly andstood in blackness, the crevice above him showing a strip of azurelight. Sandy listened, wishing for Grit. He might be able to get himdown, now that he knew the depth of the descent.

  There was only the sound of dripping water. He had a vague sense ofempty spaces all about him. He ventured a match, holding it at arm'slength in his left hand, flicking friction with his nail, an old trick.The match caught and began to blaze instantly in the still air. Lowdown, and to the right, there showed a stab of flame, the roar of anexploding cartridge, the reek of high-powered gas seemed to fill thecavern. The bullet passed through Sandy's coat sleeve. If he had heldthe match in front of him he would have been shot through heart orlungs. His right-hand gun barked from his hip, straight for where theflame had showed, then to right of it, to left, above, his left-hand gunjoining in the merciless probe. No second shot came in answer.

  Sandy lit another match. Its flare showed him a sandy floor, slightlysloping, moist in one place, a charred stick almost at his feet. It wasa pine knot, half burned, and he lighted it easily, advancing toward thespot where he had flung the shots he knew had silenced whoever had firedat the first match. He found Hahn, crumpled up, shot through the rightarm and a thigh, besides the other wound in his shoulder. There was notmuch life in him, he had suffered a hemorrhage twice before Sandy came;the shock of the two bullets had brought on another.

  Sandy turned him over, brought Keith's flask into play. Hahn looked upat him and essayed a grin.

  "Yo're game all right, Hahn," said Sandy. "You ain't the man I waslookin' fo', but you fired first. I see I wasn't the first to plug you.Mebbe I can fix you up a bit?"

  Hahn shook his head.

  "'Twouldn't be a mite of use," he said huskily. "I'm empty of blood as aprohibition flask. I reckon it will be prohibition for me from now on.They say it's sure dry where I'm going. No grudge against you, Sandy. Ithought you one of Brandon's gang. They got Butch and me an' they'rechasin' Jim Plimsoll to hell and gone--over Nipple Peaks--if he beats'em to Spur Rock he'll fool 'em on the black--I couldn't ride--he leftme here--with the girl--but the case is empty and the bank'sbu'sted--cashing--in--time and no chips."

  He was wandering in his mind, speaking without control, but Sandy'smouth tightened at the mention of Nipple Peaks, relaxed again on theword "girl." He gave Hahn the last few drops of whisky.

  "Where in hell'd you get that?" asked the dealer weakly, coughedviolently, collapsed, shuddered, writhed a little and was still beforehe could answer Sandy's eager question about Molly.

  He found her without much searching, rolled down a little slope beyondthe crevice. Under the light of the torch her eyes looked up at him. Herhair was in disorder, her raiment torn, her slender body wound about bythe lariat rope, her mouth and chin hidden by the tightly drawnbandanna, but her gaze, reflecting the flare of the pine knot, held somuch of welcome, of faith, of pride and courage, all sourced insomething deeper, far more wonderful, moving beneath the surface like awell spring, that Sandy's heart swelled with glad emotion, knowing shewas unharmed, knowing that his coming was no surprise, however welcome.

  He found himself trembling as he untied her bonds and took away the gagfrom the mouth that lifted to his. She snuggled into his arms and, asthe torch sputtered out, leaving them in the darkness, save for theluminous beams that stole down from where Grit whimpered in joyousimpatience, her hair showered down over both of them.

  "Sandy. I knew you'd come in time!" she whispered.

  He held her close and hard for a tense moment that gave all his world tohis embrace.

  "Molly--girl," he said brokenly, his voice broken with passion.

  Her hand crept up and a soft palm cupped about his chin. He kissed theedge of it. He rose easily, still holding her and lifted her high towhere she could reach the vine, swinging up after her, Grit dancing athree-legged reel of joy as they came up into the free air and themoonlight.

  Blaze greeted them in the corral. Molly mounted, and Sandy set Grit onthe saddle in front of her.

  "Where's Pronto?" she asked.

  He told her.

  "I figger Sam an' the boys'll be erlong soon," he said. "They may meetup with Pronto. Anyway, they'll likely bring Goldie fo' me. She's up.An' Pronto'll be too tired fo' what I want him to do ter-night."

  She sensed the change in his voice, intuitively guessed but, womanlike,asked:

  "What do you mean, Sandy? Aren't you coming home with me to Three Star.If it wasn't so far I'd love to go back just like this, without meetinganybody." She had taken off Sandy's Stetson and she ran fingers throughhis hair, thrilling him to the intimacy of the caress. But, if there wasany plan in her actions, it did not deter him from his.

  "Plimsoll's makin' fo' Nipple Peaks an' he's likely to git clear. Me, Iaim to head him off an' settle the account."

  "Sandy." There was a plea in her voice that plucked at his heartstrings. "Don't spoil to-night. Please!"

  "That ain't Molly Casey talkin'," said Sandy. "That's somethin' you musthave picked up back to Keith's."

  "He didn't harm me, Sandy."

  "He tried to."

  Her hand slipped to his shoulder, touched his cheek. She reined inBlaze. Sandy stood beside her, straight and stern, his eyes implacable.

  "He ain't fit to live," he went on. "I w'udn't be fit to go back toThree Star where yore daddy lies an' know he was there in his gravewhile I let that coyote go loose. I found the luck-piece on the floor ofthe cabin, Molly, with a lock of yore hair he must have tore out, abutton an' a bit of yore dress he nigh tore off you. I was in hell whenI thought of you fightin' him off an' if I have to wade through itknee-deep in flamin' sulphur I'm goin' to find that snake an' make surehe quits trailin'. Why, it's my job, Molly. What w'ud you think of me ifI let him slide?"

  "I know," she answered.

  A horse whinnied from down the ravine. Blaze answered.

  "That'll be Sam an' the boys, Molly." He cupped hands and sounded a"Yahoo!"

  The answer came back clear through the evening, multiplied by the rocksabout them.

  "I'm afraid," she said.

  "Afraid?"

  "I know. I never was before. But...." She broke off, leaned swiftly downfrom the saddle and kissed him.

  "Come back to me soon, Sandy," she said.