Prairie Flowers

by James B. Hendryx

  CHAPTER XIII

  A MAN ALL BAD

  Jack Purdy had turned horse-thief. And because chance had thrown him inwith one of the strongest gangs of horse-thieves that ever operated therange, he had prospered.

  A year and a week had elapsed since the countryside turned out to helpWolf River celebrate the opening of her bank. At that celebration theTexan had openly insulted him before the eyes of all cow-land. And,before the eyes of all cow-land he, a reputed gunman, hesitated with hishand on his gun, and every man and woman who waited in breathlessexpectancy for him to shoot, knew that he was afraid to shoot--knew thathe was a coward. Only the pilgrim's girl did not know. She thought hehad done a brave thing to ignore the insult, and that night she rodewith him, and upon the rim of the bench, as they paused to look downupon the twinkling lights of the little town Purdy committed theunpardonable sin of the cattle country. He attacked her--dragged herfrom her horse. And then the pilgrim came. Purdy heard the sound of thefurious hoof-beats, and grinned evilly as he watched the man dismountclumsily when he came upon the two horses grazing with empty saddles.When the pilgrim was almost upon him he flung the girl to the ground anddrew his gun. There was a blinding flash--and Purdy knew no more until,hours afterward Sheriff Sam Moore and two of three sworn deputies wereloading his "corpse" into a spring wagon. Then he sat up suddenly andSam Moore and his deputies fled gibbering into the dark, while Purdydrove the team back to Wolf River. Swaggering into the dance hall, hefound that the news of his demise at the hand of the pilgrim hadpreceded him--found, also, a marked lack of enthusiasm over his escapefrom death. Some countenances registered open disappointment, and themen whom he invited to drink, evinced a sudden absence of thirst. Hesought to dance, but the women who occupied the chairs along the wallsinvented excuses, reasonable or preposterous according to the fertilityof their imagination. So Purdy, a sullen rage in his heart, returned tothe bar and drank alone. As he called for the third drink, the bartendereyed him truculently: "Just spread a little change, Purdy. Yer owin' fertwo, now."

  The sullen rage flared into swift anger and the cowpuncher's handdropped to his gun: "What the hell's loose with you? What's the matterwith everyone here? Ain't I good fer the drinks?"

  The bartender stared straight into the blazing eyes: "You ain't good fernothin' in Wolf River. After Tex showin' you up this afternoon but'special what happened later. Folks knows what you tried to pull off upthere on the bench. Reports was that the pilgrim had bumped you off butyou don't notice no crepe hangin' around nowheres, do you? An' when youturn up alive an' kickin' you don't notice 'em gittin' out no brass bandabout it, do you? An' I'm givin' you a tip--if I was you I'd right nowbe kickin' up a cloud of white dust a hell of a ways from Wolf River.Jest cast yer eyes around an' you'll see that there's a bunch of liveones missin'. Well, they're goin' to come driftin' back in a little, an'it's dollars to buffalo chips that when they do they'll start in anfinish up the job the pilgrim botched."

  Purdy's face went suddenly pale in the lamplight. The hand dropped limpfrom the gun-butt, and as he glanced swiftly about the room he moistenedhis lips with his tongue. There was a distinct whine in his voice as heforced his eyes to meet the other's steady gaze: "I didn't do nothin'.They--they can't do it."

  "Can't do it--hell! A tree's a tree, ain't it? An' a rope's a rope?"

  Purdy swayed heavily against the bar: "Give me a drink?" he begged,"jest one--I'm broke."

  Without a word the other poured a full glass of liquor and pushed ittoward him. Purdy reached for it, and part of the contents slopped uponhis trembling fingers before the glass left the bar. Seizing it withboth hands, he drained it at a gulp, and hurriedly made his way thelength of the hall. In the doorway he paused and swept the room with aglance of malignant hate: "To hell with you!" he cried, shrilly, "tohell with you all!" And staggering down the steps, mounted the firsthorse he came to and fled wildly into the dark. All night he rode, withrage in his heart toward all men, a rage that found vent in wild ravingand cursing and gradually fixed itself into a sullen hate--a smoulderingsavage hatred that included all mankind and womankind, but centred withabysmal brutishness upon the Texan, the pilgrim, the pilgrim's girl, andstrangely enough, upon the bartender who had warned him to flee.

  At daylight he entered the cabin of a nester who had not yet returnedfrom the celebration, and according to the custom of the country cookedhimself a meal and ate it. Then, in defiance of the custom of thecountry, he proceeded to make up a pack of provisions, helping himselfliberally from the limited store. And not only provisions he took, butcooking utensils as well, and a pair of heavy blankets from the bed. Hefound savage satisfaction in scattering things about the room, inwantonly destroying provisions he could not use, and leaving the placein the wildest confusion. The owner, he recollected, was one of thosewho had refused to drink with him in the dance hall. The insane rageflared out anew. He even thought of burning the shack, but feared thatthe smoke would betray him before he could get away. "Won't drink withme, eh?" he muttered, and ground his heel into the face of a cheapphotograph of a smiling baby girl. He had stopped overnight in thiscabin once and heard the story of how the little two-year-old hadtoddled out and been bitten by a rattlesnake, and of the little gravebeneath the tree in front of the house. He laughed, harshly: "Too goodto drink with me!" and deliberately spat tobacco upon the faded littlered shoe that had stood beside the picture. Then he secured his packbehind the cantle of his saddle, mounted, and rode away, leaving thedishes unwashed and the door wide open.

  It was broad daylight when Purdy left the cabin, and he suddenlyrealized that he was riding a stolen horse. He had ridden the horse hardand it was becoming tired. Also he realized that he was packing the lootfrom the cabin. He cursed himself for a fool, for well he knew whatwould happen if he were caught--now. He should have been careful toleave no trail, and should at this moment be "holed up" in some couleeor patch of timber to wait for darkness. But he dared not camp withinmiles of the violated cabin. He was approaching the Bear Paws, andswinging sharply to the west, decided to skirt the mountains and strikeinto the foothills where there are no nesters and no trails. He mustpush on. The bad lands were only thirty miles away and if his horse heldout he should reach them in the early afternoon. He breathed easier. Thenester would not reach his cabin till evening.

  There was a telephone at the TU and the TU lay between him and the badlands. He must either swing in close to the mountains, or take a chanceon the open bench. He chose the mountains, and toward noon passed asolitary sheepherder seated on the crest of a conical butte with hisband of freshly sheared sheep spread out below him like an irregularpatch of snow. The man motioned him in, but Purdy slipped swiftly into acoulee and came out a mile below. Later, a lone rider cut his trail, andfrom the shelter of a cottonwood thicket, Purdy watched him pass. Hewanted to talk with him. Maybe he had a bottle and Purdy needed a drink.The man was idly twirling the end of his rope and singing a song as herode. He seemed care-free, even gay. The song that he sang was a popularone on the cattle range, grossly obscene, having to do with the loveintrigues of one "Big Foot Sal."

  Purdy felt suddenly very much alone. Here was one of his kind with whomhe would like to pass the time of day--smoke with him and ifcircumstances permitted, drink with him, and swap the gossip of therange. Instead, he must skulk in the thicket like a coyote until the manpassed. A great wave of self-pity swept over him. He, Jack Purdy, was anoutcast. Men would not drink with him nor would women dance with him.Even at this moment men were riding the range in search of him, and ifthey caught him--he shuddered, cold beads of sweat collected upon hisforehead, involuntarily his fingers caressed his throat, and he loosenedthe collar of his shirt. Every man's hand was against him. His angerblazed forth in a volley of horrible curses, and he shook his glovedfist at the back of the disappearing rider. He rode on. "Damn 'em all!"he muttered, the sullen hatred settling itself once more upon him. "Waittill I get to the bad lands, an' then--" Purdy had no definite planfurther than reaching the bad
lands. His outfit had worked the range tothe northward of Milk River, and he knew little of the bad lands exceptthat they furnished a haven of refuge to men who were "on the run." Hewas "on the run," therefore he must reach the bad lands.

  It was late in the afternoon when he rode unhesitatingly into thetreeless, grassless waste of dry mud and mica studded lava rock, givingno heed to the fact that water holes were few and far between and knownonly to the initiated. Darkness found him following down a dry couleeinto which high-walled, narrow mud cracks led in a labyrinth of blackpassages. His horse's head was drooping and the animal could not beforced off a slow walk. No spear of grass was visible and the rock floorof the coulee was baked and dry. Purdy's lips were parched, and histongue made an audible rasping sound when he drew it across the roof ofhis mouth. The dark-walled coulee was almost pitch black, and heshivered in the night chill. His horse's shod feet, ringing loudly uponthe rock floor, shattered a tomb-like silence. It seemed to Purdy thatthe sound could be heard for miles and he shuddered, glanced furtivelyabout him, and pulled up to listen for sounds of pursuit. He spurred hishorse viciously and the animal walked slowly on. He glanced upward. Thewalls of the coulee were steep and high, and far above him, little starstwinkled. Suddenly his heart ceased to beat. He felt weak and flabby andthere was a strange chill at the pit of his stomach. He could have swornthat a face looked down at him from the clean-cut rim of the coulee. Thenext moment it was gone. He proceeded a quarter of a mile, again lookedupward, and again he saw the face. His nerveless fingers closed aboutthe butt of his gun and drew it from its holster, but his hand shook sothat he thrust back the gun in disgust. They were after him. It was theposse, or perhaps the nester whose cabin he had plundered--and he hopedit was the posse. But, why didn't they shoot? Why didn't they come downand get him, instead of hanging along the edge of the coulee likebuzzards, waiting for him to die of thirst. Twice more within the nexthalf-hour he saw the face, and each time it disappeared.

  Something seemed to snap inside his head and he spurred his horse in aperfect frenzy of rage. "Damn you!" he shrilled, and his voice ranghollow and thin, "damn you, come and get me! Shoot me! String me up!But, for Christ's sake, give me a drink! I stole the horse to make agetaway. I gutted the nester's cabin! An' if it hadn't be'n for thepilgrim, I'd--" A man stood directly in front of him--two men. They werevery close and one of them held a gun. Purdy could see the starlightgleam faintly upon the barrel.

  "Put 'em up!" The words were not loudly spoken, but somehow they seemeddeadly in earnest. Purdy's hands raised shakily:

  "Damn you!" he screamed, "damn you all! Damn the world!"

  "Coverin' quite a bit of territory, young feller. Better save up yercussin' till you know yer hurt. Take his bridle reins, Bill, an' we'llbe gittin' to camp." The other caught up the reins and once more thecoulee rang to the measured tread of hoofs.

  "Give me a drink," mumbled Purdy, thickly. "Water--whisky----"

  "We've got 'em both. Jest hold on about five minutes an' we'll fix youout."

  "An' then string me up," the words came with difficulty and the man infront laughed shortly.

  "Well, mebbe not. I'm guessin' young feller, mebbe you've lit luckier'nwhat you think."

  They turned abruptly into a side coulee, and a few moments later thespokesman ordered Purdy to dismount. He staggered weakly, and the mansupported him while the other took the horse and disappeared. After afew steps Purdy braced up, and relieving him of his gun the man badehim follow. They seemed to be in a cave. Purdy glanced upward and couldsee no stars. The darkness was intense, and he placed his hand on theman's shoulder. They turned a sharp corner and another and foundthemselves in a blaze of light. Three men lounged about an open fire,and the light from two coal-oil lamps lighted the interior of whatseemed to be a large room. Cooking utensils were ranged neatly along thewall near the fire, and beyond, Purdy could see rolls of bedding. Theman who conducted him in tendered him a tin cup of water and Purdygulped it greedily to the last drop and extended the cup for more."Better wait a bit an' let that soak in," advised the man, "they'splenty an' you kin have all you want." The other three men looked on insilence, and when Purdy had drained two more cupfuls of water, one ofthem motioned him to be seated. Another handed him tobacco and papers,and as he rolled a cigarette, Purdy glanced about with a distinct air ofrelief. This was no posse. There was an air of permanency about thecamp, and as he glanced into the faces of the men he recognized none ofthem.

  When he had returned the tobacco and lighted his cigarette, one of themen addressed him directly. Purdy noticed that he was a squat man, andthat the legs of his leather chaps bowed prodigiously. He was thick andwide of chest, a tuft of hair protruded grotesquely from a hole in thecrown of his soft-brimmed hat, and a stubby beard masked his featuresexcept for a pair of beady, deep-set eyes that stared at Purdy acrossthe glowing brands of the dying fire. He tossed his cigarette into thecoals and spoke abruptly:

  "What you doin' down here? Where you headin'?"

  Purdy glanced into the eyes that seemed to flash menacingly as a brandflared feebly. Then he lied: "Headin' fer south of the Mizoo. Got a jobdown there."

  "Who with?"

  "Don't know the name. It's out of Lewiston. Feller come through coupleof days ago an' said they was short-handed."

  "Cow outfit?"

  "Yup."

  "That why yer ridin' a Circle J horse? An' why you snuck into the brushback yonder an' laid low while Pete, here, rode past a-singin' 'Big FootSal'?" The man's eyes were still upon him, and Purdy knew that he hadbeen caught in his lie. He glanced toward the man called Pete, andrecognized the leisurely rider of the afternoon. The man who hadconducted him in laughed, and Purdy was surprised that the sound held anote of genuine amusement:

  "An' is that why you cussed me an' Bill when we was keepin' cases on youcomin' down the coulee, an' wound up by cussin' the whole world, an'invitin' us to string you up?"

  Purdy was at loss for words. He felt the blood mounting to his face, andhe cleared his throat uncertainly.

  "D'you know who I am?" The squat man questioned.

  Purdy shook his head.

  "Grimshaw's my name--Cass Grimshaw."

  "Cass Grimshaw! The--" Purdy stopped abruptly in confusion.

  The other laughed shortly: "Go ahead an' say it. It won't hurt myfeelin's none. I'm the party--Cass Grimshaw, the horse-thief."

  Purdy stared open-mouthed, for the man had uttered a name that in thecattle country was a name to conjure with. Cass Grimshaw, and theGrimshaw gang were notorious for their depredations throughout Montanaand half of Wyoming. For two years they had defied the law and resistedall efforts to break them up. One or two of their number had been killedin fights with posses, but the gang remained intact, a thorn in the sideof the Stock Association, and the sheriffs of many counties. Purdycontinued to stare and again Grimshaw broke the silence: "Total rewardson all of us is thirty-two hundred. On me, personal, takin' Association,State, an' County, it's two thousan' even money. Figurin' oncollectin'?"

  Purdy gasped. What kind of a man was this? As a matter of fact, he hadbeen thinking of those rewards. He had forgotten his own crimes and waspicturing himself riding into Wolf River with a squat, bow-legged bodydangling across the front of his saddle.

  "Hell--no!" he managed to blurt out, "I'm--I'm a horse-thief, myself!"