Dorn Of The Mountains (24 page)

Riggs made no reply, and went on rolling down his trouser leg, lapped a fold over at the bottom, and pulled on his boot. Then he strode out toward the promontory. Halfway there he encountered Anson, tramping back.

“Beasley’s comin’ one way an’ Shady’s comin’ another. We’ll be off this hot point of rock by noon,” said the outlaw leader.

Riggs went to the promontory to look for himself.

“Where’s the girl?” demanded Anson, in surprise, when he got back to the camp.

“Wal, she’s walkin’ around between heah an’ Pine,” drawled Wilson.

“Jim, you let her loose?”

“Shore I did. She’s been hawg-tied all the time. An’ she said she’d not run off. I’d take that girl’s word even to a sheep thief.”

“Ahuh! So would I, for all of thet. But, Jim, somethin’ workin’ in you. Ain’t you sort of rememberin’ a time when you was young…an’ mebbe knowed pretty kids like this one?”

“Wal, if I am, it’ll shore turn out damn’ bad for somebody.”

Anson gave him a surprised stare and suddenly lost the bantering tone. “Ahuh! So thet’s how it’s workin’,” he replied, and flung himself down in the shale.

Young Burt made his appearance then, wiping his sallow face. His deep-set hungry eyes, upon which his comrades set such store, roved around the camp.

“Whar’s the gurl?” he queried.

“Jim let her go out fer a stroll,” replied Anson.

“I seen Jim was gittin’ softy over her.
Haw! Haw! Haw!
”

But Snake Anson did not crack a smile. The atmosphere appeared not to be congenial for jokes, a fact Burt rather suddenly divined. Riggs and Moze returned from the promontory, the latter reporting that Shady Jones was riding up close. Then the girl walked slowly into sight and approached to find a seat within ten yards of the group. They waited in silence until the expected horse man rode up with water bottles slung on both sides of his saddle. His advent was welcome. All the men were thirsty. Wilson took water to the girl before drinking himself.

“Thet’s an all-fired hot ride fer water,” declared the outlaw Shady, who somehow fitted his name in color and impression. “An’, boss, if it’s the same to you, I won’t take it ag’in.”

“Cheer up, Shady. We’ll be rustlin’ back in the mountains before sundown,” said Anson.

“Hang me, if thet ain’t the cheerfulest news I’ve had in some days. Hey, Moze?”

The black-faced Moze nodded his shaggy head.

“I’m sick an’ sore of this deal,” broke out Burt, evidently encouraged by his elders. “Ever since last fall we’ve been hangin’ around…till jest lately freezin’ in camps…no money…no drink…no grub worth havin’. All on promises!”

Not improbably this young and reckless member of the gang had struck the note of discord. Wilson seemed most detached from any sentiment prevailing there. Some strong thoughts were revolving in his brain.

“Burt, you ain’t insinuatin’ thet I made promises?” inquired Anson ominously.

“No, boss, I ain’t. You allus said we might hit it rich. But them promises was made to you. An’ it’d be jest like thet greaser to go back on his word, now we got the gurl.”

“Son, it happens we got the wrong one. Our long-haired pard hyar…Mister Riggs…him with the big gun…he waltzes up with this sassy kid instead of the woman Beasley wanted.”

Burt snorted his disgust while Shady Jones, roundly swearing, pelted the smoldering campfire with stones. Then they all lapsed into surly silence. The object of their growing scorn, Riggs, sat a little way apart, facing none of them, but maintaining as bold a front as apparently he could muster.

Presently a horse shot up his ears, the first indication of scent or sound imperceptible to the men. But with this cue they all, except Wilson, sat up attentively. Soon the
crack
of iron-shod hoofs on stone broke the silence. Riggs ner vous ly rose to his feet. And the others, still excepting Wilson, one by one followed suit. In another moment a rangy bay horse trotted out of the cedars, up to the camp, and his rider jumped off nimbly for so heavy a man.

“Howdy, Beasley,” was Anson’s greeting.

“Hello, Snake, old man,” replied Beasley as his bold snapping black eyes swept the group. He was dusty and hot, and wet with sweat, yet evidently too excited to feel discomfort. “I seen your smoke signal first off, an’ jumped my hoss quick. But I rode north of Pine before I headed around this way.…Did you corral the girl or did Riggs? Hello, Riggs.…Say! You look queer! What’s wrong here? You haven’t signaled me for nothin’?”

Snake Anson beckoned to Bo.

“Come out of the shade. Let him look you over.”

The girl walked out from under the spreading cedar that had hidden her from sight.

Beasley stared aghast—his jaw dropped.

“Thet’s the kid sister of the woman I wanted!” he ejaculated.

“So we’ve jest been told.”

Astonishment still held Beasley. “Told?” he echoed. Suddenly his big body leaped with a start. “Who got her? Who fetched her?”

“Why, Mister Gunman Riggs, hyar,” replied Anson with a subtle scorn.

“Riggs, you got the wrong girl!” shouted Beasley. “You made thet mistake once before. What’re you up to?”

“I chased her an’, when I got her, seein’ it wasn’t Nell Rayner…why…I kept her anyhow,” replied Riggs. “An’ I’ve got a word for your ear alone.”

“Man, you’re crazy…queerin’ my deal thet way!” roared Beasley. “You heard my plans.…Riggs, this girl stealin’ can’t be done twice…. Was you drinkin’ or locoed or what?”

“Beasley, he was giving you the double-cross,” cut in Bo Rayner’s cool voice.

The rancher stared speechlessly at her, then at Anson, then at Wilson, and last at Riggs when his brown visage shaded dark with rush of purple blood. With one lunge he knocked Riggs flat, then stood over him with a convulsive hand at his gun.

“You white-livered cardsharp! I’ve a notion to bore you…. They told me you had a deal of your own an’ now I believe it.”

“Yes…I had,” replied Riggs, cautiously getting up. He was ghastly. “But I wasn’t double-crossin’ you. Your deal was to get the girl away from home so you could take possession of her property. An’ I wanted her.”

“What for did you fetch the sister then?” demanded Beasley, his big jaw bulging.

“Because I’ve a plan to….”

“Plan, hell! You’ve spoiled my plan an’ I’ve seen about enough of you.” Beasley breathed hard; his lowering gaze boded uncertain will toward the man who had crossed him; his hand still hung low and clutching.

“Beasley, tell them to get my horse. I want to go home,” said Bo Rayner.

Slowly Beasley turned. Her words enjoined a silence. What to do with her now appeared a problem.

“I had nothin’ to do with fetchin’ you here an’ I’ll have nothin’ to do with sendin’ you back or what ever’s done with you,” declared Beasley.

Then the girl’s face flashed white again and her eyes changed to fire. “You’re as big a liar as Riggs!” she cried passionately. “And you’re a thief, a bully who picks on defenseless girls…. Oh, we know your game. Milt Dorn heard you plot with this outlaw Anson to steal my sister…. You ought to be hanged…you half-breed greaser!”

“Cat-eyed slut! I’ll cut out your tongue!” hissed Beasley.

“Yes, I’ll bet you would if you had me alone. But these outlaws…these sheep thieves…these tools you hire are better than you and Riggs.…What do you suppose Carmichael will do to you? Carmichael! He’s my sweetheart…that cowboy. You know what he did to Riggs.…Have you brains enough to know what he’ll do to you?”

“He’ll not do much,” growled Beasley. But the thick purplish blood was receding from his face. “Your cowpuncher….”

“Bah!” she interrupted, and she snapped her fingers in his face. “He’s from Texas! He’s from Texas!”

“Supposin’ he is from Texas,” demanded Beasley in angry irritation. “What’s thet? Texans are all over. There’s Jim Wilson, Snake Anson’s right-hand man. He’s from Texas. But thet ain’t scarin’ anyone.” He pointed toward Wilson who shifted uneasily from foot to foot.

The girl’s flaming glance followed his hand. “Are you from Texas?” she asked.

“Yes, miss, I am…an’ I reckon I don’t deserve it,” replied Wilson. It was certain that a vague shame attended his confession.

“Oh! I believed even a bandit from Texas would fight for a helpless girl,” she replied in withering scorn of disappointment.

Jim Wilson dropped his head. If anyone there suspected a serious turn to Wilson’s attitude toward that situation, it was the keen outlaw leader.

“Beasley, you’re courtin’ death,” he broke in.

“You bet you are!” added Bo with a passion that made her listeners quiver. “You’ve put me at the mercy of a gang of outlaws. You may force my sister out of her home. But your day will come. Tom Carmichael will
kill
you!

Beasley mounted his horse. Sullen, livid, furious he sat shaking in the saddle to glare down at the outlaw leader.

“Snake, thet’s no fault of mine the deal’s miscarried. I was square. I made my offer for the workin’ out of my plan. It ain’t been done. Now there’s hell to pay an’ I’m through.”

“Beasley, I reckon I couldn’t hold you to anythin’,” replied Anson slowly. “But if you was square, you ain’t square now. We’ve hung around an’ tried hard. My men are all sore. An’ we’re broke, with no outfit to speak of. Me an’ you never fell out before. But I reckon we might.”

“Do I owe you any money…accordin’ to the deal?” demanded Beasley.

“No, you don’t,” responded Anson sharply.

“Then thet’s square. I wash my hands of the whole deal. Make Riggs pay up. He’s got money an’ he’s got plans. Go in with him.”

With that Beasley spurred his horse, wheeled, and rode away. The outlaws gazed after him until he disappeared in the cedars.

“What’d you expect from a greaser?” queried Shady Jones.

“Anson, didn’t I say so?” added Burt.

The black-visaged Moze rolled his eyes like a mad bull and Jim Wilson studiously examined a stick he held in his hands. Riggs showed im mense relief.

“Anson, stake me to some of your outfit an’ I’ll ride off with the girl,” he said eagerly.

“Where’d you go now?” queried Anson curiously.

Riggs appeared at a loss for a quick answer; his wits were no more equal to this predicament than his nerve.

“You’re no woodsman. An’ unless you’re plumb weird, you’d never risk goin’ near Pine or Show Down…. There’ll be real trackers huntin’ your trail.”

The listening girl suddenly appealed to Wilson. “Don’t let him take me off…alone…in the woods,” she faltered. That was the first indication of her weakening.

Jim Wilson broke into gruff reply: “I’m not bossin’ this gang.”

“But you’re a man!” she importuned.

“Riggs, you fetch along your precious firebrand an’ come with us,” said Anson craftily. “I’m partic u lar curious to see her brand you.”

“Snake, lemme take the girl back to Pine,” said Jim Wilson.

Anson swore his amaze.

“It’s sense,” continued Wilson. “We’ve shore got our own troubles, an’ keepin’ her’ll only add to them. I’ve a hunch. Now you know I ain’t often givin’ to buckin’ your say-so. But this deal ain’t tastin’ good to me. That girl ought to be sent home.”

“But mebbe there’s somethin’ in it for us. Her sister’d pay to git her back.”

“Wal, I shore hope you’ll recollect I offered…thet’s all,” concluded Wilson.

“Jim, if we wanted to git rid of her, we’d let Riggs take her off,” remonstrated the outlaw leader. He was perturbed and undecided. Wilson worried him.

The long Texan veered around, full-faced. What subtle transformation in him.

“Like hell we would!” he said mildly.

It could not have been the tone that caused Anson to quail. He might have been leader here but he was not the greater man. His face clouded.

“Break camp,” he ordered.

Riggs had probably not heard that last exchange between Anson and Wilson, for he had walked a few rods aside to get his horse.

In a few moments, when they started off, Burt, Jones, and Moze were in the lead driving the pack horses, Anson rode next, the girl came between him and Riggs, and significantly it seemed Jim Wilson brought up the rear.

This start was made a little after the noon hour. They zigzagged up the slope, took to a deep ravine, and followed it up to where it headed in the level forest. From there, travel was rapid, the pack horses being driven at a jog trot. Once when a troop of deer burst out of a thicket into a glade to stand with ears high, young Burt halted the cavalcade. His well-aimed shot brought down a deer. Then the men rode on, leaving him behind to dress and pack the meat. The only other halt made was at the crossing of the first water, a clear swift brook, where both horses and men drank thirstily. Here Burt caught up with his comrades.

They traversed glade and park, and wended a crooked trail through the deepening forest, and climbed bench after bench to higher ground, while the sun sloped to the westward, lower and redder. Sunset had gone, and the twilight was momentarily brightening to the afterglow when Anson, breaking his silence of the afternoon, ordered a halt.

The place was wild, dismal, a shallow vale between dark slopes of spruce. Grass, firewood, and water were there in abundance. All the men were off, throwing saddles and packs, before the tired girl made an effort to get down. Riggs, observing her, made a not ungentle move to pull her off. She gave him a sounding slap with her gloved hand.

“Keep your paws to yourself,” she said. No evidence of exhaustion was there in her spirit.

Wilson had observed this by-play, but Anson had not.

“What come off?” he asked.

“Wal, the Honorable Gunman Riggs jest got caressed by the lady…as he was doin’ the elegant,” replied Moze, who stood nearest.

“Jim, was you watchin’?” queried Anson. His curiosity had held through the afternoon.

“He tried to yank her off an’ she biffed him,” replied Wilson.

“Thet Riggs is jest daffy or plain locoed,” said Snake in an aside to Moze.

“Boss, you mean plain cussed. Mark my words he’ll hoodoo this outfit. Jim was figgerin’ correct.”

“Hoodoo…,” cursed Anson under his breath.

Many hands made quick work. In a few moments a fire was burning brightly, water was boiling, pots were steaming, the odor of venison permeated the cool air. The girl had at last slipped off her saddle to the ground where she sat while Riggs led the horse away. She sat there apparently forgotten, a pathetic droop to her head.