CHAPTER VI
AT THE RED FRONT
When Ike Stork had disappeared through the door of the Red Frontdragging the unconscious form of the bartender with him, the Texanpoured himself a drink, set a quart bottle before him upon the bar,rummaged in a drawer and produced a box of cartridges which he placedconveniently to hand, reloaded his guns, and took another drink.
A report sounded in the street and a bullet crashed through the windowand buried itself in a beer keg. The Texan laughed: "Fog 'er up, ol'hand, an' here's yer change!" Reaching over the top of a keg, he sent abullet through the window. The shot drew a volley from the street, andthe big mirror behind the bar became a jangle of crashing glass.
"Barras'll have to get him a new lookin' glass," he opined, as he shookthe slivers from his hat brim. "The war's on--an' she's a beaut! If ol'Santa Anna was here, him an' I could lick the world! This red lickersure is gettin' to my head--stayed off of it too long--but I'm makin' upfor lost time. Whoopee!"
"Oh, I'm a Texas cowboy, Far away from home, If I ever get back to Texas I never more will roam."
"Hey, in there!" The song ceased abruptly, and, gun in hand the Texananswered.
"There ain't no hay in here! What do you think this is, a cow's hotel?The livery barn's next door!"
"They ain't no outlaw goin' to run Timber City while I'm marshal!"
"Put 'er here, pardner!" answered the Texan. "You run Timber City an'I'll run the Red Front! Come on in an' buy a drink, so I can get mychange!"
"You're arrested fer disturbin' the peace!"
"Come an' get me, then. But come a-shootin'!"
"You can't git away with it. I got twenty men here, an' everyone packin'a gun!"
"You've got me, then," mocked the Texan. "I've only got two guns. Run'em in in a bunch. I can only take care of a dozen, an' the rest can getme before I can reload."
"Yer kickin' up an awful stink fer a dollar an' four bits."
"'Tain't the money, it's the principle of the thing. An' besides, Iaimed to pull a hell-winder of a jamboree--an' I'm doin' it."
"You ain't helpin' yer case none by raisin' a rookus like this. Come outan' give yerself up. All there is agin you is a fine an' a littledamages."
"How much?"
"We'll make it fifty dollars' fine, an' you'll have to talk to PeteBarras about the damages."
The Texan laughed derisively: "Guess again, you short horn! I've gotmore money than that!"
"You comin' out, or I got to go in there an' git you?"
"I ain't comin' out, an' you ain't comin' in here an' get me," defiedthe cowboy; "you ain't got the guts to--you an' your twenty gun-fightersto boot! Just you stick your classic profile around the corner of thatwall an' I'll shoot patterns in it!"
"You can't git away. We've got yer horse!"
"If I was a posse I'd surround you an' string you up for a bunch ofhorse-thieves!"
"What you goin' to do about it?"
"I'm standin' pat--me. What you goin' to do?"
"Come on out, hands up, an' submit to arrest before you git in toodeep."
"There ain't a marshal in Montana can arrest me!"
"What's yer name?"
"Hydrophobia B. Tarantula! I'm a curly wolf! I can't be handled 'causeI'm full of quills! I've got seventeen rattles an' a button, an' I'mright now coiled!"
"Yer drunk as hell," growled the marshal, "wait till you git sober an'you won't feel so damn hard."
"You're goin' to miss some sleep waitin', 'cause there's seventeenquarts in sight, without countin' the barrel goods an' beer."
For answer the exasperated marshal sent a bullet crashing into the wallhigh above the Texan's head, and the shot was immediately followed by avolley from the crowd outside, the bullets slivering the woodwork, orburying themselves harmlessly in the barricade of beer-kegs.
"This saloon's gettin' all scratched up, the way you ruffians arecarryin' on," called the Texan, when the noise had subsided, "but ifit's shootin' you want, divide these here up amongst you!" Reachingaround a keg, he emptied a gun through the window, then reloaded, andpoured himself another drink.
"The main question is," he announced judicially to himself, as hecontemplated the liquor in the glass, "I've drunk one quart already, nowshall I get seventeen times drunker'n I am, or shall I stay drunkseventeen times as long?" He drank the liquor and returned the glass tothe bar, "guess I'll just let Nature take her course," he opined, andglanced about him quizzically. "I mistrusted this wasn't goin' to be noprosaic jubilee, but what I'm wonderin' is, how's it goin' to come out?'Tain't likely anyone'll get hurt, 'cause they can't hit me, an' I don'twant to hit them. But, this is goin' to get monotonous sometime an' I'llwant to leave here. They've got my horse, an' it's a cinch I ain't goin'away afoot. Guess I'll have to borrow one like Ol' Bat did down to LasVegas an' get plumb out of the country. An' there's another reason Ican't linger to get venerable amongst my present peaceful surroundin's.When Ol' Bat finds I've quit the outfit he'll trail me down, just assure as I'm goin' to take another drink, an' when he does, he'll----"
Once more the voice of the marshal sounded from without: "Hey, youngfeller, I'm willin' to go half way with you----"
"Half of nothin's nothin'!" replied the Texan, "I ain't goin' nowhere!"
"You better listen to reason an' give yerself up. If you do we let youoff with a hundred dollar fine, an' damages--if you don't, I'm goin' tocharge you with shootin' to kill, an' send you up to Deer Lodge fer ayear. You got just one minute to think it over. It's gettin' dark an' Iain't had no supper."
"Me neither. You go on ahead an' get yours first, an' then hurry backan' let me go."
"I ain't foolin'! What you goin' to do?"
"Shoot to kill--if that's what I'm charged with," and the marshal leapedback as a bullet sung past his head.
As darkness gathered the crowd poured volley after volley into thesaloon and the Texan replied sparingly, and between shots he drankwhisky. It was dark inside the building and the cowboy could see theflash of the guns in the street. Suddenly the bombardment ceased.
"Wonder what they're up to now," he muttered, peering between the kegs.He was finding it hard to concentrate his thoughts, and passed a handacross his forehead as if to brush away the cobwebs that were clogginghis brain. "I've got to out-guess 'em!" He shook himself fiercely: "Le'ssee, if they rush me in the dark, some of 'em's due to fall down cellarwhere Ike left the trap open, an' some of 'em's goin' to get mixed upwith bottles an' beer-kegs--if I don't shoot they won't know where I am,an' while they're ontanglin' themselves maybe I can slip away in thedark."
A light flared suddenly beyond the wooden partition, flickered a moment,and burned steadily. The Texan's eyes widened as his hands closed aboutthe butts of his guns: "Goin' to burn me out, eh?" he sneered, and then,with a smile, laid the two guns on the bar, and watched the glow thatsoftened the blackness about the edges of the screen. "They can't burnme without burnin' up their whole damn little wooden town," hespeculated, "but what in the devil do they want with a light?" With thewords on his lips, the light moved, and once more he reached for hisguns. A candle appeared around the end of the partition that formed thedoorway. The Texan fired and the room was plunged into darkness. Andthen--through the inky blackness, thick with the pungent powder smoke,sounded a cry--a jerky, stabbing cry--a cry of mortal fear--a woman'scry--_that_ woman's cry: "_Tex--Tex! Strike a light!_"
The Texan reeled as from a blow, the gun dropped from his nervelessfingers and thudded upon the floor. He leaned weakly against the backbar. He was conscious that his eyes were staring--straining to piercethe blackness in the direction of the sound--and yet, he knew there wasnothing there! His mouth went dry and he could distinctly hear his ownbreathing. He pulled himself jerkily erect and clawed the edge of thebar. His groping hand closed about an object hard and cylindrical. Itwas the quart bottle of whisky from which he had filled his glass.Suddenly, he shuddered. "It's the booze," he thought, "it's got me--atlast--I'm--I'm _bugs_!" The bottle sl
ipped through his fingers androlled along the bar and the air became heavy with the fumes of theliquor that splashed unheeded from its mouth. He passed his hand acrosshis brow and withdrew it slippery and wet with sweat.
"_Christ!_" Thickly the word struggled from between the dry lips. Hestooped, his hand groping for the gun, his fingers closed uncertainlyupon the butt, and as he straightened up, the muzzle swung slowly intoline with his own forehead. And in that instant a light puff of cool airfanned his dripping forehead. The gun stopped in its slow arc. The lidsclosed for an instant over the horribly staring eyes. The shouldersstiffened, and the gun was laid gently upon the bar--for, upon thatsingle puff of night air, delicate, subtile--yet unmistakablydistinguishable from the heavy powder smoke and the reeking fumes ofthe whisky, was borne a breath of the wide open places. The man'snostrils quivered. Yes, it was there--the scent of the little blue andwhite prairie flowers--her flowers. Instantly his brain cleared. Amoment before he had been hopelessly drunk: now, he was sober. It was asthough the delicate scent had entered his nostrils and cleansed hisbrain, clearing it of the befuddling fog, and leaving it, wholesome,alert, capable. Poignantly, with the scent of those flowers, the sceneof a year ago leaped into memory, when he had stooped to restore them toher hands--there in the tiny glade beside the big boulder.
"Alice!" he cried, sharply.
"Tex!" The name was a sob, and then; "Oh, please--please strike a light!I'm--I'm--afraid!"
For just an instant the Texan hesitated, a match between his fingers,and his voice sounded strangely hard: "A light, now, will mean they'llget me! But--if you're real, girl, I'll trust you--If you ain't--thequicker they shoot, the better!" There was a scratching sound, a lightflared out, and candle outstretched, the girl came swiftly to the bar,and as he held the match to the wick, the Texan's eyes gazed wonderinglyinto the eyes of blue.
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