Part 18 (1/2)
Hour after hour they rode in silence, following a trail that wound in easy curves about the bases of hillocks and small b.u.t.tes, and dipped and slanted down the precipitous sides of deep coulees where the horses' feet splashed loudly in the shallow waters of fords. As the moon dipped lower and lower, they rode past the darkened buildings of ranches nestled beside the creeks, and once they pa.s.sed a band of sheep camped near the trail. The moonlight showed a sea of grey, woolly backs, and on a near-by knoll stood a white-covered camp-wagon, with a tiny lantern burning at the end of the tongue. A pair of hobbled horses left off snipping gra.s.s beside the trail and gazed with mild interest as the two pa.s.sed, and beneath the wagon a dog barked. At length, just as the moon sank from sight behind the long spur of Tiger b.u.t.te, the trail slanted into a wide coulee from the bottom of which sounded the tinkle of running water.
”Dis Snake Creek,” remarked the Indian; ”better you git off now an'
stretch you leg. Me, A'm mak' de blanket on de groun' an' you ketch-um little sleep. Mebbe-so dem com' queek--mebbe-so long tam'.”
Even as he talked the man spread a pair of new blankets beside the trail and walking a short distance away seated himself upon a rock and lighted a cigarette.
With muscles aching from the unaccustomed strain of hours in the saddle, Alice threw herself upon the blankets and pillowed her head on the slicker that the half-breed had folded for the purpose. Almost immediately she fell asleep only to awake a few moments later with every bone in her body registering an aching protest at the unbearable hardness of her bed. In vain she turned from one side to the other, in an effort to attain a comfortable position. With nerves shrieking at each new att.i.tude, all thought of sleep vanished and the girl's brain raced madly over the events of the past few hours. Yesterday she had sat upon the observation platform of the overland train and complained to Endicott of the humdrum conventionality of her existence! Only yesterday--and it seemed weeks ago. The dizzy whirl of events that had s.n.a.t.c.hed her from the beaten path and deposited her somewhere out upon the rim of the world had come upon her so suddenly and with such stupendous import that it beggared any attempt to forecast its outcome.
With a shudder she recalled the moment upon the verge of the bench when in a flash she had realized the true character of Purdy and her own utter helplessness. With a great surge of grat.i.tude--and--was it only grat.i.tude--this admiration and pride in the achievement of the man who had rushed to her rescue? Alone there in the darkness the girl flushed to the roots of her hair as she realized that it was for this man she had unhesitatingly and unquestioningly ridden far into the night in company with an unknown Indian. Realized, also, that above the pain of her tortured muscles, above the uncertainty of her own position, was the anxiety and worry as to the fate of Endicott. Where was he? Had Tex lied when he told her there would be no lynching? Even if he desired could he prevent the cowboys from wreaking their vengeance upon the man who had killed one of their number? She recalled with a shudder the cold cynicism of the smile that habitually curled the lips of the Texan. A man who could smile like that could lie--could do anything to gain an end. And yet--she realized with a puzzled frown that in her heart was no fear of him--no terror such as struck into her very soul at the sudden unmasking of Purdy. ”It's his eyes,” she murmured; ”beneath his cynical exterior lies a man of finer fibre.”
Some distance away a match flared in the darkness and went out, and dimly by the little light of the stars Alice made out the form of the half-breed seated upon his rock beside the trail. Motionless as the rock itself the man sat humped over with his arms entwining his knees.
A sombre figure, and one that fitted intrinsically into the scene--the dark shapes of the three horses that snipped gra.s.s beside the trail, the soft murmur of the waters of the creek as they purled over the stones, the black wall of the coulee, with the mountains rising beyond--all bespoke the wild that since childhood she had pictured, but never before had seen. Under any other circ.u.mstances the setting would have appealed, would have thrilled her to the soul. But now--over and over through her brain repeated the question: Where is he?
A horse nickered softly and raising his head, sniffed the night air.
The Indian stepped from his rock and stood alert with his eyes on the reach of the back-trail. And then softly, almost inaudibly to the ears of the girl came the sound of horses' hoofs pounding the trail in monotonous rhythm.
Leaping to her feet she rushed forward in time to see Bat catch up the reins of the three horses and slip noiselessly into the shelter of a bunch of scrub willows. In a moment she was at his side and the Indian thrust the reins into her hand.
”Better you wait here,” he whispered hurriedly. ”Mebbe-so, som'wan else com' 'long. Me, A'm gon' for look.” With the words the man blended into the shadows and, clutching the reins, the girl waited with every nerve drawn tense.
Nearer and nearer came the sound of the thudding hoofs. The riders had reached the dip of the trail now and the rhythmic pound of the horses'
feet changed to a syncopated shuffle as the animals made the steep descent. At the edge of the creek they paused for a moment and then Alice, could hear the splash of their feet in the water and the deep sucking sound of horses drinking.
A low peculiar whistle cut the air and the next moment a voice which the girl recognized as the Texan's sounded plainly through the dark.
”You got here, did you? Where's the girl?” Alice could not catch the answer but at the next words of the Texan she started forward tugging at the reins of the refractory cayuses.
”Come alive, now, an' get your outfit together. There's prob'ly a big posse out an' we got to scratch gravel some lively to keep ahead of 'em, which little item the future prosperity of all concerned, as the fellow says, depends on--not only the hangee here, but us accessories, the law bein' some specific in outlinin' the disposal of aiders an'
abettors of felonious transmigrations.”
The half-breed relieved her of the horses and Alice rushed to the side of Endicott who had reined his horse out of the water and dismounted stiffly.
”Oh, Winthrop!” she cried joyfully. ”Then they didn't hang you, and----”
Endicott laughed: ”No, they didn't hang me but they put a lot of local colour into the preliminaries. I certainly thought my time had come, when friend Tex here gave the word to throw off the rope.” The girl flashed a grateful glance into the face of the Texan who sat his horse with the peculiar smile curling his lips.
”Oh, how can I ever thank you?” she cried impulsively. ”I think you are just _splendid_! And I'll never, _never_ distrust you again. I've been a perfect fool and----”
”Yes,” answered the man gruffly, and Alice noticed that the smile was gone from his lips. ”But you ain't out of the woods yet. Bat's got that horse packed an' as soon as Winthrup, there, can crawl up the side of that bronc we better be hittin' the trail. If we can make the timber at the head of Cow Creek divide by daylight, we can slip down into the bad lands tomorrow night.”
Endicott painfully raised a foot to the stirrup, and the Texan turned abruptly to the girl.
”Can you make it?” he asked. She replied with an eager affirmative and the Texan shot her a glance of approval as he watched her mount, for well he knew that she must have fared very little better than Endicott in the matter of aching muscles.
Mile after mile the four rode in silence, Tex in the lead with Bat Lajune close by his side. An occasional backward glance revealed the clumsy efforts of the pilgrim to ease himself in the saddle, and the set look of determination upon the tired face of the girl.
”Winthrup ain't wearin' well,” thought the cowboy as his lips twisted into a smile, ”but what could you expect with a name like that? I'm afraid Winthrup is goin' to wish I hadn't interfered none with his demise, but he won't squawk, an' neither will she. There's the makin's of a couple of good folks wasted in them two pilgrims,” and he frowned darkly at the recollection of the note of genuine relief and gladness with which the girl had greeted Endicott; a frown that deepened at the girl's impulsive words to himself, ”I think you are just splendid.
I'll never distrust you again.” ”She's a fool!” he muttered under his breath. At his side the half-breed regarded him shrewdly from under the broad brim of his hat.