Part 29 (1/2)
”I understand. While I'm doing that try to get the Double O on the 'phone, will you? Tell them to get Gerrish here as soon as possible.”
”I will. The sheriff wants to see you at the jail when you can manage it. He's sent a posse after Ranlett. He's in or near that shack in Buzzard's Hollow, that is, he was.”
”He's there, all right. I signaled with the rockets as Phil directed. He may be getting a little uneasy at the non-arrival of his bad men by this time though. How the d.i.c.kens did you know about it?”
”Beechy put a bullet into his leg. Jerry will tell you----”
”Beechy and Jerry!”
”Don't look like that, Steve. Jerry is safe and Beechy has made good, gloriously good. Get the little girl to tell you about it. She--she's a wonder! Meantime the sheriff waits. He wants to talk to you about Simms.
There can be no doubt that he shot Denbigh. He wants your deposition.
Perhaps it is a cold-blooded way to look at it, but I can't help thinking that with Simms out of the way his wife and kids will have a chance at real living. That's an awful indictment of a man, isn't it?”
It was morning when Courtlandt dismounted in the corral of the Double O.
Slowman hurried up to take Blue Devil. The two men talked in low tones while dawn streaked the sky in rosy peaks and the stars paled. The gra.s.s glittered with diamond-like dew, the fairies had spread their squares of gossamer everywhere. The boys had come in with the shorthorns, the corral boss reported, not one missing. The outfit had got news of the affair at Devil's Hold-up and were fit to tie that they hadn't had a chance to clean up Ranlett and his gang.
After the turmoil of the last few hours the ranch-house seemed weirdly quiet as Courtlandt entered the living-room. The night air had been keen and a few coals, like observant red eyes, glowed at him from the hearth.
Scherherazade, the white Persian cat, occupied the wing-chair. She opened her topaz eyes wide as Steve approached the mantel; she watched unblinkingly as he laid his arms upon it and looked up at the portrait above him. He spoke softly as though he and the smiling woman were comrades and confidants.
”They said that Phil went out like a candle, Mother. Where did he go?
Where are you? It can't be the end. If it were I shouldn't feel as though you were with me wherever I am. Was I a brute to Jerry? Will she ever forgive me? Would you if you were in her place?” The tender eyes must have rea.s.sured him for with a husky, ”Good-night, Betty Fairfax!”
he straightened his shoulders and turned away. For an instant he stood looking across the room. As he went toward his own door he whistled softly his favorite ”Papillions.” Scherherazade craned her ruffed white neck to follow the sound, her eyes narrowed to ruby slits. The coals on the hearth crumbled and fell. She sprang to the back of the chair and listened. Across the room a door had latched softly.
Out in Buzzard's Hollow a white-faced, haggard-eyed man was turning over his three prisoners to the deputy sheriff. Overhead a great bird hung motionless for an instant as it glared down at the curious creature with mammoth outspread wings that lay below.
CHAPTER XX
Breakfast in the court was a late affair the morning after the hold-up.
Steve did not appear. Tommy had given Jerry a sketchy account of his adventure of the night before, minimizing his part in it. Ming Soy hovered about the table with what, in an Occidental, would be tearful devotion. The world was as clean and fresh and sweet as wind and rain and suns.h.i.+ne could make it. Faintly from the corral came the voices of riders coming and going; the skip and cough and stutter of tractors drifted in on the breeze. Benito, with much fluttering and s.h.i.+vering and croaking, was taking his matutinal plunge in the basin of the fountain.
Goober lay beside Jerry's chair, his tawny eyes fixed unblinkingly on the parrot, his tongue hanging, his white teeth gleaming.
The girl, in a pink and white frock that suggested the daintiness of morning-glories, had been absorbed in the thoughts induced by Tommy's story. It was some time before she became conscious of the obstinate silence maintained by the usually talkative Peg, who was a bit more bewilderingly lovely than ever in a frock just a trifle less blue than the sky above her. Benson was tenderly solicitous of her comfort. Would she have more honey? Hopi Soy had broken his own record with the waffles; sure she wouldn't have one? Peg answered his questions with an indifferent shake of her head. Jerry observed the two in silence for a few moments before she protested:
”Don't grovel, Tommy. I don't know what you've done to displease her royal highness, but knowing you as I do I am sure that it was nothing to warrant such rudeness. 'Fess up, children, what has happened? 'Who first bred strife between the chiefs that they should thus contend?'” she quoted gayly. ”That is worthy even of you, Tommy.”
”You may think it's funny, Jerry,” flared Peg indignantly. ”But if you had been--been----”
”Say it! Tell the gentlemen of the jury just what happened, Miss Glamorgan,” prompted Benson in a judicial tone and with a glint in his blue eyes. ”You won't?” as the girl responded only with a glance of superb scorn. ”Then I will.” He disregarded her startled, ”Don't dare!”
and announced, ”I--I kissed her yesterday, Mrs. Steve.”
”I won't stay to hear!”
”Yes, you will!” He caught Peggy gently but firmly by the shoulders. He stood behind her as he explained. ”You see--I want--I intend to marry your sister, Mrs. Steve. Yesterday I staked my claim. I kissed her once.”
”Hmp! Squatter rights!” interpolated Peggy angrily.