Kitabı oku: «Shoe-Bar Stratton», sayfa 12

CHAPTER XXIII
WHERE THE WHEEL TRACKS LED

Bud Jessup removed a battered stew-pan from the fire and set it aside to cool a little.

“Well, by this time I reckon friend Tex is all worked up over what’s become of me,” he remarked in a tone of satisfaction, deftly shifting the coffee-pot to a bed of deeper coals. “He’s sure tried often enough to get rid of me, but I don’t guess he quite relishes my droppin’ out of sight like this.”

Buck Stratton, his back resting comfortably against a rock a little way from the fire, nodded absently.

“You’re sure you didn’t leave any trace they could pick up?” he asked with a touch of anxiety.

“Certain sure,” returned Jessup confidently. “When Miss Mary came in around four, I was in the wagon-shed, the rest of the crowd bein’ down in south pasture. Like I told yuh before, she had a good-sized package all done up nice in her hand, an’ it didn’t take her long to tell me what was up. Then we walks out together an’ stops by the kitchen door.

“‘Yuh better get yore supper at the hotel,’ she says, an’ ride back afterwards. ‘I meant to send in right after dinner to mail the package, but I got held up out on the range.’

“Then she seems to catch sight of the greaser for the first time jest inside the door, though I noticed him snoopin’ there when we first come up.

“‘I hope yuh got somethin’ left from dinner, Pedro,’ she says, with one of them careless natural smiles of hers, like as if she hadn’t a care on her mind except food. ‘I’m half starved.’”

Bud sighed and finished with a note of admiration. “Some girl, all right!”

“You’ve said it,” agreed Buck fervently.

His appearance had improved surprisingly in the ten days that had passed since his accident. The head-bandage was gone, and his swollen ankle, though still tender at times, had been reduced to almost normal size by constant applications of cold water. His body was still tightly strapped up with yards and yards of bandage, which Mary Thorne had thoughtfully packed, with a number of other first-aid necessities, in the parcel which was Bud’s excuse for making a trip to town.

Stratton was not certain that a rib had been broken after all. When Jessup came to examine him he found the flesh terribly bruised and refrained from any unnecessary prodding. It was still somewhat painful to the touch, but from the ease with which he could get about, Buck had a notion that at the worst the bone was merely cracked.

“They wouldn’t be likely to notice where you left the Paloma trail, would they?” Buck asked, after a brief retrospective silence.

“Not unless they’re a whole lot better trackers than I think for,” Jessup assured him. “I picked a rocky place this side of the gully, an’ cut around the north end of middle pasture, where the land slopes down a bit, an’ yuh can’t be seen from the south more ’n a quarter of a mile. I kept my eyes peeled, believe me! an’ didn’t glimpse a soul all the way. I wouldn’t fret none about their followin’ me here.”

“I reckon it is foolish,” admitted Stratton. “But lying around not able to do anything makes a fellow think up all kinds of trouble. Lynch isn’t a fool, and there’s no doubt when you didn’t come back that night he’d begin to smell a rat right off.”

“Sure. An’ next day he likely sent in to town, where he’d find out from old Pop that I never showed up there at all. After that, accordin’ to my figgerin’, he’d be up against it hard. Yuh can bank on Miss Mary playin’ the game, an’ registerin’ surprise an’ worry an’ all the rest of it. There ain’t a chance in the world of his thinkin’ to look for me here.”

“I reckon that’s true. Of course we’ve got to remember that so far as he knows I’m out of the way for good.”

Bud took up coffee-pot and stew-pan and set them down beside Stratton, where the rest of the meal was spread.

“Sure,” he chuckled, dropping down against the ledge. “Officially, you’re a corpse. That’s yore strong point, old-timer. By golly!” he added, with a sudden, fierce revulsion of spirit. “I only hope I’ll be on hand when he gets what’s comin’ to him, the damn’, cowardly skunk!”

“Maybe you will,” commented Buck grimly. “Well, let’s eat. Seems like I do nothing but eat and sleep and loaf around. I’ve a good notion to bust up the monotony,” he added, after a few minutes had passed in the silent consumption of food, “and take that trip to north pasture to-morrow.”

“Don’t be loco,” Bud told him hastily. “Yuh ain’t fit for nothin’ like that yet.”

“I did it a few days ago,” Stratton reminded him, “and I’m feeling a hundred per cent. better now.”

“Mebbe so; but what’s the use in takin’ chances? We got plenty of time.”

“I’m not so sure of that,” Buck said seriously. “You say that Lynch thinks I’m dead and out of the way. Well, maybe he does; but unless he’s a lot bigger fool than I think for, he’s not going to leave a body around in plain sight for anybody to find. He’ll be slipping down into that gulch one of these days to get rid of it, and when he finds there ain’t any body – then what?”

“He’ll begin to see he’s got into one hell of a mess, I reckon,” commented Jessup.

“Right. And he’ll be willing to do anything on earth to crawl out safe. Like enough he’ll connect your disappearance with the business, and that would worry him more than ever. He might even get scared enough to throw up the whole game and beat it; and believe me, that wouldn’t suit me at all.”

“Yuh said a mouthful!” snarled Jessup. “If that hellion should get away – Say, Buck, why couldn’t yuh get him for attempted murder?”

“I might, but the witnesses are all on his side, and there’d be a good chance of his slipping out. Besides, I’m set on finding out first what his game is. I’m dead certain now it’s connected somehow with the north pasture, and I’ve an idea it’s something big. That car I told you about, and everything – Well, there’s no sense guessing any longer when we can make a stab at finding out. We’ll start the first thing to-morrow.”

Bud made no further protest, and at dawn next morning they left camp and set out northward through the hills. It was a slow journey, and toward the end of it Buck felt rather seedy. But this was only natural, he told himself, after lying around and doing nothing; and he even wished he had made the move sooner.

Both he and Jessup were conscious of a growing excitement as they neared the goal from which circumstances had held them back so long. Were they going to find out something definite at last? Or would fate thrust another unexpected obstacle in their way? Above all, if fortune proved kind, what would be the character of their discovery?

Immensely intrigued and curious, Bud chattered constantly throughout the ride, suggesting all sorts of solutions of the problem, some of which were rather far-fetched. Gold was his favorite – as it has been the favorite lure for adventurers all down the ages – and he drew an entrancing picture of desert sands sprinkled with the yellow dust. He thought of other precious metals, too, and even gave a passing consideration to a deposit of diamonds or some other precious or semi-precious stones. Once he switched off oddly on the subject of prehistoric remains, and Stratton’s surprised inquiry revealed the fact that three years ago he had worked for a party of scientific excavators in Montana.

“Them bones and skeletons as big as houses bring a pile of money, believe me!” he assured his companion. “The country up there ain’t a mite different from this, neither.”

Buck himself was unusually silent and abstracted. During the last ten days of enforced idleness he had considered the subject for hours at a time and from every conceivable angle, with the result that a certain possibility occurred to him and persisted in lingering in his mind, in spite of its seeming improbability. It was so vague and unlikely that he said nothing about it to Bud; but now, mounting the steep trail, the thought of it came back with gathering strength, and he wondered whether it could possibly be true.

Advancing with every possible precaution, they gained the summit and passed on down the other side. Before them lay the desert, glittering and glowing in the morning sun, without a sign of alien presence. Keeping a sharp lookout, they reached the little, half-circular recess in the cliffs that formed the end of the trail, and paused.

No rain had fallen in the last ten days and the print of motor-tires was almost as clear and unmistakable as the day it had been made. They could make out easily where the car had been driven in, the footprints about it, and the marks left by its turning; and with equal lack of difficulty they picked out the track made as it departed.

The latter headed north, but Stratton was not interested in it. Without hesitation he selected the incoming trail, and the two followed it out into the desert. For a few hundred yards they rode almost due east. Then the wheel-marks turned abruptly to the south, and a little further on Buck noted the prints of a galloping horse beside them.

“Lynch, I reckon,” he commented, pointing them out to his companion. “When he saw me up on the cliffs down yonder, he must have hustled to catch up with the car.”

Neither of them spoke again until they reached the spot where Buck had seen the car stop and the men get out and walk about. Here they dismounted and followed the footprints with careful scrutiny. Bud saw nothing significant, and when they had covered the ground thoroughly, he expressed his disappointment freely. Stratton merely shrugged his shoulders.

“We’ll follow the back track and see where else they stopped,” he said curtly.

His voice was a little hoarse, and there was an odd gleam in his eyes. When they were in the saddle again, he urged his horse forward at a speed which presently brought a protest from Jessup.

“Yuh better take it easy, old man,” he cautioned. “If that cayuse steps in a hole, you’re apt to get a jolt that’ll put you out of business.”

“I don’t guess it’ll hurt me,” returned Stratton with preoccupied brevity.

Bud gave a resigned shrug, and for ten minutes the silence remained unbroken. Then all at once Buck gave a muttered exclamation and pulled his horse up with a jerk.

They were on the rim of a wide, shallow depression in the sand. There was nothing remarkable about it at first sight, save, perhaps, the total absence of desert vegetation for some distance all around. But Stratton slid hastily out of his saddle, flung the reins over Pete’s head, and walked swiftly forward. Thrilled with a sudden excitement and suspense, Bud followed.

“What is it?” he questioned eagerly, as Buck bent down to scoop up a handful of the trampled sand. “What have yuh – ”

He broke off abruptly as Stratton turned suddenly on him, eyes dilated and a spot of vivid color glowing on each cheek-bone.

“Don’t you see?” he demanded, thrusting his hand toward the boy. “Don’t you understand?”

Staring at the open palm, Jessup’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped.

“Good Lord!” he gasped. “You don’t mean that it – it’s – ”

He paused incredulously, and Buck nodded.

“I’m sure of it,” he stated crisply.

CHAPTER XXIV
THE SECRET OF NORTH PASTURE

Jessup swallowed hard. “But – but – ” he faltered, “there ain’t never been any found around here. The nearest fields are hundreds of miles away, ain’t they?”

Stratton dropped the lump of sand. A number of particles still clung to his palm, and over the skin there spread an oily, slightly iridescent film. His manner had suddenly grown composed, though his eyes still shone with suppressed excitement.

“Just the same, it’s – oil!” he returned quietly. “There’s no doubt at all about it. Look at the ground there.”

Mechanically Bud’s glance shifted to the wide, shallow depression in the desert. The sand was noticeably darker, and here and there under the sun’s rays, it held that faintly iridescent glint that was unmistakable. At a distance he would have said there was a spring somewhere beneath the surface. But no water ever had that look, and now that he was prepared for it he even noticed a faint, distinctive odor in the air.

“By golly!” he cried excitedly. “You mean to say the whole pasture’s full of it?”

“Not likely, but it looks to me as if there was a-plenty. There were traces back there where we stopped, and there’s no telling how many more – ”

“But I didn’t see nothin’,” interrupted Bud in surprise.

“You weren’t looking for it, that’s why,” shrugged Stratton. “I was. Thinking it all over this past week, I got to wondering if oil might not just possibly be what we ought to look for. I was so doubtful I didn’t say anything about it. Like you said, nobody’s ever struck it anywhere around these parts, but I reckon you never can tell.”

“Wough!” Bud suddenly exploded in a tremendous exhalation of breath. “I can’t seem to get it through my nut. Why, it means a fortune for Miss Mary! No wonder that skunk tried his best to do her out of it.”

Buck stared at him oddly. A fortune for Mary Thorne! Somehow, until this moment he had not realized that this must seem to every one to be the object of his efforts – to rid Mary Thorne of all her cares and troubles and bring her measureless prosperity. Ignorant of Stratton’s identity and of all the circumstances of her father’s treachery and double-dealing, she must hold that view herself. The thought disturbed Buck, and he wondered uncomfortably what her feelings would be when she learned the truth.

“What’s the matter?” inquired Bud suddenly. “What yuh scowlin’ that way for?”

“Nothing special,” evaded Buck. “I was just thinking.” After all, there was no use crossing bridges until one came to them. “We’d better get started,” he added briskly. “We’ve found out all we want here, and there’s no sense in taking chances of running up against the gang.”

“What’s the next move?” asked Bud, when they had mounted and started back over their trail.

“Look up Hardenberg and put him wise to what we know,” answered Stratton promptly. “We’ve done about all we can; the rest of it’s up to him.”

“I reckon so,” agreed Jessup. “I never met up with him, but they say he’s a good skate. Perilla’s some little jaunt from here, though. Yuh thinkin’ of riding all the way?”

“Why not? It’ll be quicker in the end than going to Harpswell and taking the train. We’ll likely need the cayuses, too, when we get there. I’ve done forty miles at a stretch plenty of times.”

“So’ve I, but not with a bad ankle and a bunged-up side,” returned Bud dryly. “How yuh feelin’?”

“Fine! I’ve hardly had a twinge all day. That bandage stuff is great dope for keeping a fellow strapped up comfortable.”

“Well, if you’re up to it, I reckon that would be better than the train,” Bud admitted. “For one thing, if we take the trail around south of the Rocking-R we ain’t likely to meet up with anybody who’ll put Lynch wise, an’ I take it that’s important.”

“I’ll say so!” agreed Buck emphatically. “The chances are that even if he got wind of you and me being together, he’d realize the game was up, and probably beat it for the border. As long as we can manage to keep out of the spot-light, he may suspect a lot of things, but considering the size of the stake, he’s likely to take a chance and hang on.”

“Let’s hope he don’t take it into his head to ride up here this morning,” remarked Jessup, glancing apprehensively across the desert wastes toward the south. “That would spill the beans for fair.”

The very possibility made them urge the horses to an even greater speed, and neither of them really breathed freely until they had gained the little sheltered depression in the cliffs, from which the trail led over the shoulder of the mountain.

“I reckon we’re safe enough now,” commented Stratton, drawing rein. “I didn’t see a sign of anybody as we came along.”

Halting for ten minutes to rest the horses, they started up the trail in single file, Bud going first. For a greater part of the distance the rocky spurs shielded them from any save a very limited field of observation. But at the summit there was an almost level stretch of twenty feet or more from which an extended view could be had, not only of a wide sweep of desert country, but of a section of the northern end of middle pasture as well. Reaching this point, Buck glanced back searchingly. An instant later he was out of the saddle and crouching against the rocky wall.

“Lead Pete around the corner,” he urged Jessup sharply. “Get out of sight as quick as you can.”

Bud obeyed without question, and Stratton hastily took out his field-glasses and focused them on the three figures he had glimpsed riding along the northern extremity of the Shoe-Bar pasture. He recognized them instantly, pausing only long enough to make out that they did not seem to be in haste, and that so far as he could tell they were not looking in the direction of the trail. Then he thrust the glasses back into the case, and slipping around the buttress rejoined his companion.

“Lynch, with McCabe and Kreeger,” he explained curtly, gathering up the reins and swinging himself into the saddle.

“Did they see yuh?”

“I don’t think so. They seemed to be taking things easy, and weren’t looking this way at all. I wonder what they’re up to?”

“Couldn’t we stick around here for a while and watch them?” Bud asked eagerly.

Buck hesitated an instant. “I guess we’d better not take a chance,” he replied at length. “Such a whale of a lot depends on his not knowing that I’m alive and kicking; I’d hate like the devil to spoil everything now by his getting a glimpse of me. Besides, for all we know they may be coming through here to meet somebody – the rest of the gang, perhaps, or – ”

“That’s right,” interrupted Bud hastily. “Let’s go. Sooner we’re off this here trail the better.”

Without further delay they rode on down the slope, paused for a moment or two at the spring in the hollow to water the horses, and then pushed on again. Passing the entrance to the gulch, Jessup glanced that way curiously.

“Mebbe they’re on their way to dispose of yore corpse, Buck,” he chuckled.

Stratton grinned. “I thought of that, and I rather hope it’s so. They’d be puzzled and suspicious, maybe, but they couldn’t be really sure of anything. It would be a whole lot better than to have them run across our tracks in the sand back there. That would give away the show completely.”

Twenty minutes or so later they reached the gully through which they had come out on the trail. Though there had been no further signs of the Shoe-Bar men, their vigilance did not relax. Pushing on with all possible speed, they covered the distance to the little camp in very much less time than it had taken in the morning.

Here the horses had a brief rest while the two men collected their few belongings and loaded them on the pack-horse, for they had decided to go on at once. Both felt that no time should be lost in finding the sheriff and setting the machinery of the law in motion. Moreover, they were down to the last scrap of food and unless they stirred themselves they were likely to go hungry that night.

An hour later found them riding southward, following the route through the mountains used by the cattle-rustlers. Making the same cautious circuit Buck had taken around the southern end of the Shoe-Bar, they reached Rocking-R land without adventure and pulled up before the door of Red Butte camp about six o’clock.

Gabby Smith was cooking supper and greeted them with his customary lack of enthusiasm. Bud, who had never seen him before, was much diverted by his manner, and during the meal kept up a constant chatter of comment and question for the purpose, as he afterward confessed, of making the taciturn puncher go the limit in the matter of loquacity. His effort, though it could scarcely be termed successful, evidently got on Gabby’s nerves, for afterward he turned both men out of the cabin while he cleared up, a process lasting until nearly bedtime.

It was not until then that Stratton, by a chance remark, learned that three or four days after his departure from the camp two weeks earlier, a stranger had been there making inquiries about him. Gabby’s stenographic brevity made it difficult to extract details, but apparently the fellow had passed himself off as an old friend of Buck’s from Texas, desirous of looking him up. He was a stranger to Gabby, slight, dark, with eyes set rather closely together, and he rode a Shoe-Bar horse. Apparently he had hung around camp until nearly dusk, and then departed only when Gabby got rid of him by suggesting that his man had probably ridden in to spend the night at the Rocking-R ranch-house.

Stratton and Jessup discussed the incident while making brief preparation for bed. So far as Bud knew there had been no stranger on the Shoe-Bar at that time; but it seemed certain that the fellow must have been sent by Lynch to spy around and find out where Buck was.

“I s’pose he went to the ranch-house first and Tenny sent him down here, knowing he wouldn’t get much out of Gabby,” remarked Stratton. “Well, as far as I can see he had his trouble for his pains. Unless he hung around for two or three days he couldn’t very well be certain I wasn’t somewhere on the ranch.”

Save as a matter of curiosity, however, the whole affair lay too far in the past to be of the least importance now, and it was soon dismissed. Having removed boots and outer clothing, and spread their blankets in one of the pair of double-decked bunks, the two men lost no time crawling between them, and fell almost instantly asleep.