Part 23 (2/2)

Courtlandt, Mr. Tommy, but don't you worry. You'll like as not find her over takin' care of Jim Carey's baby. I hear the kid's a boy,” with a sheepish grin.

As Benson rode out from the corral he looked at the bank of clouds in the southwest and put spurs to his horse. Ming Soy, under cross-examination, had held stoutly to her statement that Jerry had not gone to the field back of the ranch-house. He would ride to the B C first. On the rustic bridge that spanned the stream he stopped to reconnoiter then went on and rounded the clump of cottonwoods that screened the Bear Creek buildings from his view. They were beginning to lose their outline in the deepening gloom. The fast spreading clouds were letting down a curtain of darkness.

Benson had ridden but a few hundred yards when he pulled the black up short. What was that! He listened. The air was still with that curious sinister calm which precedes a storm. The sound came again. It was the whinny of a horse but--but--it was not from the direction of the B C ranch; it came from the level at the foot of the hills beyond.

Tommy's imaginings as he raced across the field would have provided material for a five-reel thriller of the most lurid variety. They blew up like a balloon which has been p.r.i.c.ked when he was near enough to the whinnying horse to discover that it not Patches but Ranlett's favorite mount, The Piker. He gave voice to a mild but expressive swear-word.

”Now what's to pay?” he muttered as he flung himself from the saddle and bent over the outstretched figure half buried in the long gra.s.s. He knelt. ”Beechy!” he exclaimed incredulously. ”How the d.i.c.kens did you----” The rec.u.mbent man lifted heavy lids.

”_Comment ca_----” Returning consciousness cleared the haze from the blue eyes. ”Mr. Benson--you--did she find you--instead of----” his eyes closed.

”Beechy! Beechy! Rouse yourself. You must help me,” Tommy pleaded. ”Have you seen Mrs. Courtlandt? She's--she's lost! Your Lieutenant can't find his wife, Beechy!”

”_Mon Lieutenant_,” the blue eyes looked up at Benson dazedly. ”What's that you said, Mr. Benson? Lost his wife? You're wrong, you've got another guess coming.” With cautious effort he raised himself on his elbow. ”Prop me up, that's better. Don't worry about Mrs. Lieut. She's a good little--sport. She must be getting near the X Y Z by now.” His voice was clearer, the color was coming back to his lips.

”She's safe--unhurt?”

”Sure, man--nothin' could happen to a woman like her--don't you know that? She's ridin' like the devil to cut off----” in his excitement he jerked himself erect; in the next moment he was a crumpled heap on the ground.

Tommy emptied the canteen he had tied to his saddle-horn, for the Lord only knew what emergency, over the white face. His tense nerves relaxed.

Jerry had been all right when Beechy saw her last and that couldn't have been so long ago. If she was at Greyson's she was safe--but--what the d.i.c.kens had she been doing all the afternoon, he wondered. Now that he had her accounted for he must get Beechy under cover. With an anxious glance at the threatening sky overhead he spoke to the man on the ground. He was quite conscious again. He listened intelligently as Tommy outlined his plan for getting him to Bear Creek ranch. He wasted no strength on words but with Benson's help finally mounted The Piker. He put his arms around the horse's neck and fell forward on his mane.

Benson steadied him with one hand. Side by side the two horses made their way to the buildings now nothing but a blotch of darkness.

Jim Carey dashed out of the corral as the two rode up. He was a tall, good-looking man with black eyes which twitched nervously as he talked.

”Is that you, Small? Where the devil----” he broke off in astonishment as he saw the figure flung forward on The Piker's neck.

”It's not Small, Carey. I'm Benson from the Double O,” Tommy called from out the gloom. ”I picked up a man at the foot of the hill who was about all in. He was Courtlandt's sergeant overseas. Help me get him down, will you?”

”We'll take him into Small's cabin. This way.”

The two men carried Beechy into the shack and laid him on a bed. Carey lighted a lamp. He came back and looked down at the unconscious man as he lay with his red hair roughly tousled and the bruise under his eye a purplish red.

”I'll get Mother Eagan. I--I suppose you know what's come?” Carey asked with awkward pride.

”I heard that the stork was playing a one-night stand in this county. Is Mrs. Carey getting on all right?” Tommy asked as he busied himself unfastening Beechy's clothes. ”What is it, Carl?” he soothed as the injured man struggled to one elbow, his eyes blazing with excitement.

”Grab his horse--Mrs. Lieut., I'll get the range better next time--Ranlett----” he dropped back on the pillow; the fever died down in his eyes. He looked up into Benson's anxious face. ”Don't mind what I said,” he pleaded weakly. ”I was dreamin' but--but--I guess you'd better ride after Mrs. Lieut., and be sure she's all right. Ranlett's gang----”

”Ranlett's gang!” both men bent over him. ”What do you mean, Beechy?”

Benson asked tensely.

”Bolster me up! That's right. That infernal pounding inside me's quieting down.” He drew a cautious breath and smiled wanly into the face above him. ”Did you see that? It came as easy as spendin' money. Who's that? Where am I?” he demanded as he caught sight of Jim Carey and looked around the room.

”You are at Bear Creek ranch and this is Carey the owner.”

”Send him out, Mr. Benson. I've got something to say to you.”

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