I Conquered

by Harold Titus

  CHAPTER XXIV

  Victory

  The road writhed on through the sage brush sixteen miles from Rangerbefore it branched. Then to the right ran the S Bar S route, whilestraight on it headed into Jed's ranch, and the left-hand course,shooting away from the others behind a long, rocky point, followed SandCreek up to the cluster of buildings which marked the domicile of DickWorth.

  It was more than halfway. The Captain, now trotting heavily, nowbreaking once more into a floundering gallop, passed the first fork,that leading toward Worth's. With a gulp of relief VB saw that the moonhung low in the west--so low that the road home would be in the shadowof the point, which seemed to come down purposely to split the highway.He might then find refuge in darkness somewhere. He must have refuge!

  At the tenth mile he had suspected, now he knew, that it would beimpossible to stand off his pursuers clear to the ranch, and there wereno habitations between him and Jed's.

  "They haven't gained on you, boy!" he cried as he made out the distinctoutlines of the point. "They're right where they were at the start! Noother horse in the world could have done it; not even you should beasked to do it--but--but--"

  He choked back the sob that fought to come. He knew he must concentratehis last energy, now. If he came through there would be time to thinkof his crime against the Captain! But now-- Futures depend on lives.His life dangled in the balance, and he wanted it, as men can want lifeonly when they feel it slipping.

  Back there three men raked the streaming sides of their ponies withvicious spurs.

  "He can't make it!" Rhues swore. "Th' black's quittin' now! If he gitsaway, what chance we got? We got to git him! It'll give us th' lastchance!"

  "We're killin' our horses," growled Matson.

  And Julio, a length behind, flogged his pinto mercilessly.

  No craving for VB's life prompted Rhues now. He must go on for the sakeof his own safety. He and those other two had all to gain and nothingto lose. If they could drop the man ahead it would be possible to skirtthe ranches, catch fresh horses, and make on toward Wyoming. But let VBgain shelter with Jed or any one else, and a posse would be on theirtrail before they could be beyond reach.

  No, there could be no turning back! They had made their bet; now theymust back it with the whole stack. And before them--that blot in themoonlight--a wounded, suffering man cried aloud to the horse that movedso heavily under him.

  "Make it to the point, Captain!" he begged. "Just there! It'll be dark!Only a little faster, boy!"

  The stallion grunted under the stress of his effort, moving for themoment with less uncertainty, with a jot more speed.

  They crawled up to the point and followed the bend of the road as itled into the dimness of the gulch. Across the way, far to the right,moonlight fell on the cliffs, but where the road hung close to the riseat the left all was in shadow.

  To VB, entering the murk was like plunging from the heat of glaring dayto the cool of a forest.

  The men behind him would be forced to come twice as close before theycould make firing effective. Then, when he reached the ranch--

  He threw out an arm in a gesture of utter hopelessness. Reach theranch? He laughed aloud, mocking his own guilelessness. He had comeonly a little more than half the distance now, and Captain couldscarcely be held at a trot. Three miles, possibly five, he might last,and then his rider would have to face his pursuers with empty hands.

  His was the very epitome of despair. A weaker man would have quit then,would have let the stallion flounder to his finish, would have waitedsubmissively for Rhues to come and shoot him down. But VB possessed thestrength of his desperation.

  Rhues might get him now, as he had tried to get him twice before, buthe would get him by fighting. Not wholly for himself did the boy think,but for the likable, friendly Kelly, who had died there in his blanketswithout warning. If he could rid men of the menace which Rhuesrepresented he would have done service, and the life of those lastmonths had implanted within him the will to be of use--though, a fewhours back, he might have thought it all a delusion.

  So VB was alert with the acute alertness of mind which is given tohumans when forced to fight to preserve life--when everything, theburied subconscious impulses, the forgotten, tucked-away memories, arein the fore, crying to help. Abandoning hope of reaching Jed's, heturned all his physical force, even, into the mental effort to seek away out; fought his way to clarified thought, fought his way intologic. He could not go on much longer; there was no such thing asturning back, for he could hear them, nearer now! He could hear theclick of pebbles as his pursuers' horses sent them scattering, and apebble click will not travel far. Ahead--weakening muscles;behind--guns ready; to the right--moonlight; to the left--

  The bridle rein drew across the Captain's lathered neck. The big beastswung to the left, out of the road, crashed through the brush, andlunged against the rise of rocks.

  The horse seemed to sense the fact that this was the one remainingchance, the last possibility left in their bag of tricks. He picked hisway up among the ragged bowlders and spiked brush with a quickness ofmovement that told of the breaking through into those reservoirs ofstrength which are held in man and beast until a last hope is found.

  VB went suddenly faint. The loss of blood, the pain, the stress ofnervous thought, the knowing that his full hand was on the table,caused him to reel dizzily in the saddle. He made no pretense ofguiding the Captain. He merely sagged forward and felt the horse lungeand plunge and climb with him, heard the rasping breath that seemed tocome from a torn throat.

  Below and behind, the trailers swept from moonlight into shadow, horseswallowing as though that hard road were in deep mud, so great was therace that the stallion, spent though he might be, had given them. Rhueswas ahead, revolver held higher than before, Matson's pony at his flankand Julio a dozen lengths behind. Bridle reins, knotted, hung looselyon their horses' necks; the three left hands rose and fell and quirtsswished viciously through the night air.

  "We got to close in!" Rhues cried. "We'll have him 'n a mile!"

  And he called down on the heads of the horses awful imprecations fortheir weakness.

  On into the darkness they stormed, Julio trailing. And when Rhues hadpassed by fifty yards the point where the Captain had turned to takethe steep climb the Mexican opened his throat in a cry, half of fright,half of exultation.

  The Captain, almost at the end of his climb, leaping from rise to rise,had missed his footing. The soft earth slid as he jumped for a ledge ofrock, and the front feet, coming down on the smooth surface in franticclawing to prevent a fall, sent fire streaming from their shoes. In thedarkness Julio had seen the orange sparks. At his cry the others settheir ponies back on haunches and, following the Mexican, who now led,cursing VB and their weakening mounts, they commenced the climb. VBknew. The flash from the stallion's feet had roused him; he heard theshout; he knew what must follow. He gave no heed to the bullet whichbored the air above him as he was silhouetted for the instant againstmoonlit space before he commenced the drop to the road leading up SandCreek.

  Where now? With a sigh which ended in a quick choking, as though hewere through, ready to give up this ghost of a chance, ready to quitstruggling on, the Captain dropped from the last little rim and turnedinto the road. Not on ahead--into that void where they could ride himdown. Not back toward Ranger, for it was impossibly far. Where then?What was there? Sand Creek! And up Sand Creek was Dick Worth's!

  VB caught his breath in a sob. It was the one goal open to him, thoughthe odds were crushing. He pressed the money belt tightly. Dick Worthwas the man who should have that--Dick Worth, deputy sheriff! He liftedhis voice and cried aloud the name of the deputy.

  To the north once more the Captain headed, and with no word from VBtook up the floundering way again. The boy looked behind and saw theothers commence the drop down the moonlit point--saw one of the blursslump quickly and heard a man scream. Then he leaned low on thestallion and talked to the horse as he would talk to a child who
couldpilot him to safety.

  Behind him, along the road, came the blot again, now, however, smaller.VB did not know that it was Julio who had fallen, but he knew with afierce delight that the Captain, running on his bare spirit, had killedoff one of the pursuers!

  The boy grew hysterical. He chattered to the stallion, knowing nothingof the words he uttered. At times his lips moved but uttered no sound.Continually his hands sought his breast. He knew from the dampness thatcrept down his side, on down into the trouser leg, that the wound stillbled, that his life was running out through the gash.

  Through the clamoring of his heart a familiar ache came into histhroat, and the boy lifted his voice into the night with a rant ofrage, of self-denunciation.

  "Oh, Captain! You were the price!" he moaned.

  But still he wanted--just one drink! Not to satisfy that craving now,but to keep him alive, a legitimate use for stimulant.

  The stallion ceased pretense of galloping. Now and then he even droppedfrom his uncertain trotting to a walk.

  VB, watching behind, could just make out those other travelers in thelight of the low-hanging moon which seemed to balance on the raggedhorizon and linger for sight of the finish of this grim drama workedout in the lonely stretches. As the horse stumbled more and morefrequently under him VB knew that those who pressed him were comingcloser. Then a flash of flame and a bullet spattered itself against arock ahead and to the right.

  "They're closer, Captain!" he muttered grimly. "The game's goingagainst us--against you. I'm too much of a burden--too much weight."

  His mind seized upon the aimless words. The suddenness of his shiftingin the saddle made the stallion stagger, for VB's whole weight wentinto the right stirrup. He drew the other up with fiendish tingesshooting through his breast and tore at the cinch. It came loose. Thesaddle turned. VB flung his arms about the Captain's neck and kicked itfrom under him.

  "Fifty pounds gone!" he muttered triumphantly, and the horse tossed hishead, quickening the trot, trying once again the heavy gallop.

  VB could hear the horse breathing through his mouth. He looked down andsaw that the long tongue flopped from the lips with every movement ofthe fine head. Tears came to his eyes as he caressed the Captain'swithers frantically.

  "Can I do more, boy?" he asked in a strained voice. "Can I do more?"

  It was as though he pleaded with a dying human.

  "Yes, I can do more!" he cried a moment later in answer to his ownquestion. "You've given your whole to me; now I'll give you back yourfreedom, make you as free as you were the day I took you. I'll stripyou, boy!"

  He reached far out along the neck, drawing his weight up on thewithers, and loosed the head-stall. The bridle fell into the road andthe Captain ran naked! And, as though to show his gratitude, the horseshook his head groggily and reeled on in his crazy progress.

  A half mile farther on the Captain fell. VB went down heavily andmounted the waiting horse again in a daze--from which he was roused bythe fresh gushing on his breast. Another shot from behind--then twoclose together.

  Dawn was coming. He looked around vaguely. The moon was slipping away.Perhaps yet it would be in at the finish. The shimmering light of newday was taking from objects their ghostly quality; making them real.The men behind could see VB--and they were firing!

  The boy said no word to the Captain. He merely clamped his kneestighter and leaned lower on his neck. He had ceased to think, ceased tostruggle. His trust, his life, was in the shaking legs of the animal herode, whose sweat soaked through his clothing to mingle with the bloodthere.

  The stallion breathed in great moaning sobs, as though his heart werebursting, as though his lungs were raw and bleeding. He reeled fromside to side crazily. Now and then he ran out of the road andfloundered blindly back. His head hung low, almost to his knees, andswung from side to side with each step, and at intervals he raised itas though it were a great weight, to gasp--and to sob!

  From behind, bullets. Rhues and Matson fired grimly. They had ceased tolash their ponies, for it was useless. The beasts were beyond givingbetter service in return for punishment. Their sides dripped blood, butthey were beyond suffering. Handicapped as he had been, the Captain hadheld them off, almost stride for stride.

  Better light now, but their shooting could not hope to find a markexcept through chance. They cursed in glad snarls as they saw thestallion reel, sink to his knees; then snarled again as they saw himrecover and go on at his drunken trot.

  Before VB's eyes floated a blotch of color. It was golden, a diffusedlight that comforted him; that, for some incomprehensible reason, wassoothing to the senses. It eased the wound, too, and put new strengthin his heart so that he could feel the warm blood seeping slowly intohis numb arms and hands and fingers. He smiled foolishly and hugged theCaptain's neck as the horse reeled along. Oh, it was a glorious color!He remembered the day he had seen a little patch of it scudding alongthe roadway in the sunshine. Why, it had seemed like concentratedsunshine itself.

  "Gail," he murmured. "It was you--I didn't want to put--that mark--onyou!"

  The nature of that color became clear to him and he roused himself. Itwas a light--a light in a window--the window of a ranch house--DickWorth's ranch house!

  Bullets had ceased to zip and sing and spatter. He did not turn to seewhat had become of his pursuers, for he was capable of only one thoughtat a time.

  "Dick Worth! Dick Worth!" he screamed.

  Then he looked behind. Away to the left he saw two riders pushingthrough the dawn, detouring. And he laughed, almost gayly.

  Another blotch of light, a bigger one, showed in the young day. It wasan opened door, and a deep chest gave forth an answer to his cry. DickWorth stepped from the threshold of his home and ran to the gate to seebetter this crazy figure which lurched toward him. It was a man onfoot, hatless, his face gray like the sky above, hair tousled, eyesglowing red. He stumbled to the fence and leaned there for support,holding something forward, something limp and bloodstained.

  "Dick--it's Kelly's money belt--Rhues--he killed him-- He shot me--he'sgot the money--on him--he's swinging off west--two of 'em-- Theirhorses are--all in-- He--he shot Kelly because--I wouldn't take--adrink--he--and I need--a--drink--"

  He slumped down against the fence.

  After an uncertain age VB swam back from that mental vacuity toreality. He saw, first, that the Captain was beside him, standing therebreathing loudly, eyes closed, sobbing low at every heave of his lungs.

  A quavering moan made its way to the boy's throat and he moved over,reaching out groping arms for the stallion's lowered head.

  "Captain!" he moaned. "Oh, boy--it was our last ride--I can never--askyou to carry me--again."

  He hugged the face closer to his.

  Then he heard a man's voice saying:

  "Here, VB, take this--it'll brace you up!"

  He turned his face slowly, for the strength that remained was far fromcertain. His wound was on fire, every nerve of his body laid bare. Hiswill to do began and ended with wanting to hold that horse's headclose. He was as a child, stripped of every effect that the experiencesof his life could have had. He was weak, broken, unwittingly searchingfor a way back to strength.

  He turned his head halfway and beheld the man stooping beside him whoheld in his hands a bottle, uncorked, and from it came a strong odor.

  The boy dilated his nostrils and drew great breaths laden with thefumes of the stuff. A new life came into his eyes. They shone, theysparkled. Activity came to those bare nerves, and they raised theirdemands.

  He opened his mouth and let the odor he inhaled play across that placein his throat. The smell went on out through his arteries, through hisveins, along the nerves to the ends of his being, to the core of hissoul! He was down, down in the depths, his very ego crying for thestimulant, for something to help it come back.

  He coaxed along that yearning, let it rise to its fullest. Then heraised his eyes to meet the concerned gaze of the other man. And theman saw in those eyes
a look that made him sway back, that made himopen his lips in surprise.

  "To hell with that stuff!" the boy screamed. "To hell with it! Tohell--_to hell!_ It belongs there! It--it killed the Captain!"

  Tears came with the sobs, and strength to the arms that held thestallion's head; strength that surged through his entire body, stillingthose nerves, throttling the crying of his throat. For VB had gone downto his test, his real ordeal, and had found himself not wanting.