CHAPTER XVIII
THE DIM TRAIL.
A shadow fell upon the rock. Ferguson turned his head and lookedtoward the west, where the sun had already descended over the mountains.
"Why it's sundown!" he said, smiling into Miss Radford's eyes. "Ireckon the days must be gettin' shorter."
"The happy days are always short," she returned, blushing. He kissedher for this. For a while they sat, watching together the vari-colorsswimming in the sky. They sat close together, saying little, for merewords are sometimes inadequate. In a little time the colors faded, themountain peaks began to throw sombre shades; twilight--gray andcold--settled suddenly into the flat. Then Miss Radford raised herhead from Ferguson's shoulder and sighed.
"Time to go home," she said.
"Yes, time," he returned. "I'm ridin' down that far with you."
They rose and clambered down the hillside and he helped her into thesaddle. Then he mounted Mustard and rode across the flat beside her.
Darkness had fallen when they rode through the clearing near the cabinand dismounted from their ponies at the door. The light from thekerosene lamp shone in a dim stream from the kitchen door and withinthey saw dishes on the table with cold food. Ferguson stood beside hispony while Miss Radford went in and explored the cabin. She came tothe door presently, shading her eyes to look out into the darkness.
"Ben has been here and gone," she said. "He can't be very far away.Won't you come in?"
He laughed. "I don't think I'll come in," he returned. "This loverbusiness is new to me, an' I wouldn't want Ben to come back an' ketchme blushin' an' takin' on."
"But he has to know," she insisted, laughing.
"Sure," he said, secure in the darkness, "but you tell him."
"I won't!" she declared positively, stamping a foot.
"Then I reckon he won't get told," he returned quietly.
"Well, then," she said, laughing, "I suppose that is settled."
She came out to the edge of the porch, away from the door, where thestream of light from within could not search them out, and there theytook leave of one another, she going back into the cabin and hemounting Mustard and riding away in the darkness.
He was in high spirits, for he had much to be thankful for. As he rodethrough the darkness, skirting the cottonwood in the flat, he allowedhis thoughts to wander. His refusal to enter the cabin had not been amere whim; he intended on the morrow to seek out Ben and tell him. Hehad not wanted to tell him with her looking on to make the situationembarrassing for him.
When he thought of how she had fooled him by making it appear that shehad led him on for the purpose of getting material for her love story,he was moved to silent mirth. "But I cert'nly didn't see anythingfunny in it while she was puttin' it on," he told himself, as he rode.
He had not ridden more than a quarter of a mile from the cabin, and waspassing a clump of heavy shrubbery, when a man rose suddenly out of theshadows beside the trail. Startled, Mustard reared, and then seeingthat the apparition was merely a man, he came quietly down and halted,shaking his head sagely. Ferguson's right hand had dropped swiftly tohis right holster, but was raised again instantly as the man's voicecame cold and steady:
"Get your hands up--quick!"
Ferguson's hands were raised, but he gave no evidence of fear orexcitement. Instead, he leaned forward, trying, in the dim light, tosee the man's face. The latter still stood in the shadows. But now headvanced a little toward Ferguson, and the stray-man caught his breathsharply. But when he spoke his voice was steady.
"Why, it's Ben Radford," he said.
"That's just who it is," returned Radford. "I've been waitin' for you."
"That's right clever of you," returned Ferguson, drawling his words alittle. He was puzzled over this unusual occurrence, but his face didnot betray this. "You was wantin' to see me then," he added.
"You're keen," returned Radford, sneering slightly.
Ferguson's face reddened. "I ain't no damn fool," he said sharply."An' I don't like holdin' my hands up like this. I reckon whateveryou're goin' to do you ought to do right quick."
"I'm figuring to be quick," returned Radford shortly. "Ketch hold ofyour guns with the tips of one finger and one thumb and drop them.Don't hit any rocks and don't try any monkey business."
He waited until Ferguson had dropped one gun. And then, knowing thatthe stray-man usually wore two weapons, he continued sharply: "I'mwaiting for the other one."
Ferguson laughed. "Then you'll be waitin' a long time. There ain'tany 'other one. Broke a spring yesterday an' sent it over to Cimarronto get it fixed up. You c'n have it when it comes back," he added witha touch of sarcasm, "if you're carin' to wait that long."
Radford did not reply, but came around to Ferguson's left side andpeered at the holster. It was empty. Then he looked carefully at thestray-man's waist for signs that a weapon might have been concealedbetween the waist-band and the trousers--in front. Then, apparentlysatisfied, he stepped back, his lips closed grimly.
"Get off your horse," he ordered.
Ferguson laughed as he swung down. "Anything to oblige a friend," hesaid, mockingly.
The two men were now not over a yard apart, and at Ferguson's wordRadford's face became inflamed with wrath. "I don't think I'm a friendof yours," he sneered coldly; "I ain't making friends with every damnedsneak that crawls around the country, aiming to shoot a man in theback." He raised his voice, bitter with sarcasm. "You're thinkingthat you're pretty slick," he said; "that all you have to do in thiscountry is to hang around till you get a man where you want him andthen bore him. But you've got to the end of your rope. You ain'tgoing to shoot anyone around here.
"I'm giving you a chance to say what you've got to say and then I'mgoing to fill you full of lead and plant you over in the cottonwood--ina place where no one will ever be able to find you--not even Stafford.I'd have shot you off your horse when you come around the bend," hecontinued coldly, "but I wanted you to know who was doing it and thatthe man that did it knowed what you come here to do." He poised hispistol menacingly. "You got anything to say?" he inquired.
Ferguson looked steadily from the muzzle of the poised weapon toRadford's frowning eyes. Then he smiled grimly.
"Some one's been talkin'," he said evenly. He calmly crossed his armsover his chest, the right hand slipping carelessly under the left sideof his vest. Then he rocked slowly back and forth on his heels andtoes. "Someone's been tellin' you a pack of lies," he added. "Ireckon you've wondered, if I was goin' to shoot you in the back, that Iain't done it long ago. You're admittin' that I've had some chance."
Radford sneered. "I ain't wondering why you ain't done it before," hesaid. "Mebbe it was because you're too white livered. Mebbe youthought you didn't see your chance. I ain't worrying none about whyyou didn't do it. But you ain't going to get another chance." Theweapon came to a foreboding level.
Ferguson laughed grimly, but there was an ironic quality in his voicethat caught Radford's ear. It seemed to Radford that the stray-manknew that he was near death, and yet some particular phase of thesituation appealed to his humor--grim though it was. It came out whenthe stray-man spoke.
"You've been gassin' just now about shootin' people in the back--sayin'that I've been thinkin' of doin' it. But I reckon you ain't thought alot about the way you're intendin' to put me out of business. I waswonderin' if it made any difference--shootin' a man in the back orshootin' him when he ain't got any guns. I expect a man that's shotwhen he ain't got guns would be just as dead as a man that's shot inthe back, wouldn't he?"
He laughed again, his eyes gleaming in the dim light. "That's thereason I ain't scared a heap," he said. "From what I know about youyou ain't the man to shoot another without givin' him a chance. An'you're givin' me a chance to talk. I ain't goin' to do any prayin'. Ireckon that's right?"
Radford shifted his feet uneasily. He could not have told at thatmoment whether or not he had intended
to murder Ferguson. He hadwaylaid him with that intention, utterly forgetful that by shooting thestray-man he would be committing the very crime which he had accusedFerguson of contemplating. The muzzle of his weapon droopeduncertainly.
"Talk quick!" he said shortly.
Ferguson grinned. "I'm takin' my time," he returned. "There ain't anyuse of bein' in such an awful hurry--time don't amount to much when aman's talkin' for his life. I ain't askin' who told you what you'vesaid about me--I've got a pretty clear idea who it was. I've had totell a man pretty plain that my age has got its growth an' I don'tthink that man is admirin' me much for bein' told. But if he's wantin'to have me put out of business he's goin' to do the job himself--BenRadford ain't doin' it."
While he had been talking he had contrived to throw the left side ofhis vest open, and his right hand was exposed in the dim light--a heavysix-shooter gleaming forebodingly in it. His arms were still crossed,but as he talked he had turned a very little and now the muzzle of theweapon was at a level--trained fairly upon Radford's breast. And thencame Ferguson's voice again, quiet, cold, incisive.
"If there's goin' to be any shootin', Ben, there'll be two of us doin'it. Don't be afraid that you'll beat me to it." And he stared grimlyover the short space that separated them.
For a full minute neither man moved a muscle. Silence--a premonitorysilence--fell over them as they stood, each with a steady fingerdragging uncertainly upon the trigger of his weapon. An owl hooted inthe cottonwood nearby; other noises of the night reached their ears.Unaware of this crisis Mustard grazed unconcernedly at a distance.
Then Radford's weapon wavered a little and dropped to his side.
"This game's too certain," he said.
Ferguson laughed, and his six-shooter disappeared as mysteriously as ithad appeared. "I thought I'd be able to make you see the point," hesaid. "It don't always pay to be in too much of a hurry to do athing," he continued gravely. "An' I reckon I've proved that someone'sbeen lying about me. If I'd wanted to shoot you I could have done itquite a spell ago--I had you covered just as soon as I crossed my arms.You'd never knowed about it. That I didn't shoot proves that whoevertold you I was after you has been romancin'." He laughed.
"An' now I'm tellin' you another thing that I was goin' to tell youabout to-morrow. Mebbe you'll want to shoot me for that. But if youdo I expect you'll have a woman to fight. Me an' Mary has found thatwe're of one mind about a thing. We're goin' to hook up into a doubleharness. I reckon when I'm your brother-in-law you won't be so worriedabout shootin' me."
Radford's astonishment showed for a moment in his eyes as his gaze metthe stray-man's. Then they drooped guiltily.
"Well I'm a damn fool!" he said finally. "I might have knowed thatMary wouldn't get afoul of any man who was thinkin' of doing dirt tome." He suddenly extended a hand. "You shakin'?" he said.
Ferguson took the hand, gripping it tightly. Neither man spoke. ThenRadford suddenly unclasped his hand and turned, striding rapidly up thetrail toward the cabin.
For a moment Ferguson stood, looking after him with narrowed, friendlyeyes. Then he walked to Mustard, threw the bridle rein over the pommelof the saddle, mounted, and was off at a rapid lope toward the TwoDiamond.
The Two-Gun Man Page 18
