Part 14 (1/2)
With Daniels, Whittaker and Halliday in the lead and the others trailing on close behind, they came down the middle of the street on a half run, plainly revealed in the bright moonlight. They expected to find the Democrats battering down the jail door, if they were not already taking the prisoner out, and all their attention was turned toward that building. Presently they saw that the entrance and all the street round about were silent and apparently deserted, and they concluded that the rescuing party was already inside the jail. Daniels turned and made a hus.h.i.+ng gesture.
”Softly, boys,” he said in a repressed voice. ”Come along as quietly as you possibly can and get up to the door in a bunch. Have your guns ready.”
Scarcely were the words out of his mouth when from the darkness and silence of a _portal_ a block beyond them came a flash and a report, and on the instant a dozen more blazed out along that side of the street, for half a block.
The sheriff's party came to a sudden stop, stunned for a moment by the complete surprise. One of their number threw out his hands and sank down groaning into the dust.
”We're ambushed, boys! It's a trick!” shouted a man in the rear, and he started off as fast as his legs could carry him. Another and another followed his example, and three others picked up the wounded man and carried him away. Daniels and Halliday and three or four others returned the fire, guessing at the location of the enemy, but one of their party fell to the ground and another dropped his pistol as his arm suddenly went limp and helpless.
”It's nothin' but a trick to get us out here and kill us,” said Daniels.
”It's no use to stand here and make targets of ourselves in the moonlight,” added Halliday. ”We'd better get out as quick as we can.”
They picked up the wounded man, and supporting him between two others, sought the shadow of the sidewalk and hurried away, followed by a jeering ”Whoo-oo-oo-ee” in Nick Ellhorn's well-known voice.
”No more shooting, boys!” shouted Judge Harlin. ”We've buffaloed 'em--let 'em go!”
”You're always spoilin' the fun, Judge,” Nick complained. ”This job was too easy! Now, did you ever see such a pack of cowards start on a lynchin' bee? But I reckon they've learned one lesson and won't try to lynch Emerson again in a hurry.”
The next day excitement ran higher than ever. The Republicans, smarting under their defeat, were in a white heat of indignation over what they believed was a deliberate plan to ambush and kill their leading men. The Democrats, while they were jubilant over their victory, were equally indignant over what they declared was an attempt, by the very men who ought to have protected him, to lynch Emerson Mead. In reality, each side had been trying to protect him and uphold the law, but each scoffed at and spurned the story of the other. Main street was in two hostile camps and all the fire-arms in the town that were not already in evidence in holsters and hip pockets, were brought to the center of hostilities and placed within handy reaching distance in shops and offices. Behind the bar in each of the saloons was a stack of shot-guns and rifles. The sidewalk on each side of the street was constantly crowded, but n.o.body crossed from one side to the other.
The women began to feel the war spirit and early in the day Judge Harlin's wife and John Daniels' wife, who were ordinarily the dearest friends, pa.s.sed each other on the street without speaking. The ladies of Las Plumas were accustomed to meet at frequent teas, luncheons and card parties on terms of the greatest cordiality, but long before night, if any one whose masculine affiliations were on one side met one belonging to the other, they pa.s.sed with a haughty stare.
Sheriff Daniels was much disturbed over the situation, fearing that he would be unable to keep his prisoner in jail. He talked the matter over with his advisers and together they decided that the best plan would be to get Emerson Mead out of town for the present, and accordingly a telegram was sent to the sheriff of the adjoining county asking permission to lodge Mead temporarily in his jail. The Democrats heard of this plan, and Nick Ellhorn fumed indignantly. Judge Harlin was secretly pleased, and contrived to send word to Colonel Whittaker, Sheriff Daniels and Jim Halliday that he approved their plan and would do his best to control the Democratic faction while they were making the change. He did not tell Nick Ellhorn that he had done this, but he reasoned with that loyal friend at great length on the matter.
”But see here, Judge,” Nick replied to all his arguments, ”I got Emerson into trouble this time and I've got to get him out. If he hadn't been chasin' around alone, tryin' to get me out of the beastly drunken sc.r.a.pe I'd been fool enough to get into, this wouldn't have happened. You know it wouldn't, Judge. It's all my fault, and I've got to get Emerson out of it.”
”That's all right, Nick. Your loyalty to Emerson does you great credit. Much more than your judgment does. But if you'll just wait a week or two the grand jury will p.r.o.nounce on his case, and they're bound to let the bottom out of the whole thing. They'll never find a true bill against him, with no evidence to go on and no proof even that Will Whittaker is dead. Then Emerson will come out a vindicated man and they will have to let him alone after that. His interests will not suffer now by his being detained a few days, and he will gain in the respect of the community by submitting quietly. Take my advice, Nick, and keep still, and let matters follow their legal course for the next week or two.”
”A week or two, Judge! And let Emerson stay in jail all that time?
When he's no more right to be there than you or me! Sure, now, Judge!
and what do you-all take me for, anyway?”
”For a sensible man, Nick, who will see the reason in what I have been saying and will take my advice in the matter.”
Nick leaned his face on his hand and gloomed across the desk at the big judge, who sat calm and judicial on the other side. Judge Harlin pleased himself much by believing that he could handle Nick Ellhorn better than any other man in the county, except Emerson Mead, and he liked to have the opportunity to try his hand, just as he liked to drive a nervous, mettlesome, erratic horse. He could drive the horse, but he could not manage Nick Ellhorn. The tall Texan had learned not to batter words against the judge's determination, which was as big and bulky as his figure. He simply gave tacit acquiescence, and then went away and did as he pleased. If his scheme succeeded he adroitly flattered the judge by giving him the credit; if it failed he professed penitence and said how much better it would have been to follow the judge's advice. He saw that Judge Harlin had decided to allow Emerson Mead to stay in jail until the grand jury should meet, so he presently said:
”Oh, I reckon you-all are right about it, Judge, but it's d.a.m.n hard on Emerson. But if it's the only way to keep this blamed town from fallin' to and gettin' rid of itself I reckon we'll have to let him stand it.” He got up and walked up and down the room for a few minutes and then, with his black eyes dancing and a broad smile curling his mustache around the dimple in each cheek, he went to the telegraph office and sent to Thomson Tuttle a telegram which read:
”Get off the train to-morrow at Escondida and ride to Bosque Grande, where you will find Missouri Bill with horses and instructions.”
Escondida was the first station on the railroad north of Las Plumas and the Bosque Grande was a river flat, covered with a dense growth of cottonwoods and willow bushes through which the railroad ran, about midway between the two towns. Missouri Bill was one of Mead's cow-boys who had come in with the herd of cattle.
When it became known that Emerson Mead was to be taken to the Silverado county jail to await the session of the grand jury and that the Democrats would not object to the scheme, the war feeling at once began to abate. The town still rested on its arms and glared across Main street, each party from its own side. There was no more talk of extreme measures and there were no more threats of blood letting. So things went on for a few hours, until the matter of Mead's transfer to the Silverado jail was finally settled. Then all the town looked on while Judge Harlin strolled leisurely across the street, nodded to Colonel Whittaker and Sheriff Daniels, and the three men went into the White Horse saloon and clinked gla.s.ses together over the bar. A little later Jim Halliday went to the Palmleaf and he and Joe Davis joined in a friendly ”here's luck.” After which all the town put away its guns and went quietly about its usual affairs.
The Republicans frankly gave out that Emerson Mead would be taken away on the north bound overland train, which pa.s.sed through Las Plumas in the middle of the day. Nick Ellhorn decided that this was told too openly to be true. He guessed that the journey would be made on a ”local” train which pa.s.sed through the town in the early morning and that Sheriff Daniels hoped, by thus secretly carrying off his prisoner, to forestall any possible attempt at a rescue. Accordingly, he sent another telegram to Tuttle to be in the Bosque Grande for this train and started off Missouri Bill with two extra horses before daybreak on the second morning after the fight.
With Sheriff Daniels beside him and Jim Halliday walking close behind, Emerson Mead stepped into the rear coach of the ”local” train with none to witness his departure other than the handful of regular travelers, and a half dozen well armed Republicans who were at the station to help prevent any attempt at escape. Mead greeted these with smiling good nature, as if there were no thought of quarrel between them, and cast his eyes about for sight of his own friends. Not one could he see. He did not know what plan for his a.s.sistance Ellhorn and Tuttle might have schemed, he did not even know that Tuttle had gone away, but he felt sure they would not allow him to be taken away from Las Plumas any more than they would allow him to remain in jail longer than the earliest possible moment at which they could get him out. So he went along quietly and good-naturedly with his keepers, his eyes watchful and his mind alert, alike for any relaxation of their vigilance which would give him a chance of escape, and for the first sign from his friends.
Nick Ellhorn did not appear on the station platform at all. He rushed up from the opposite side just as the train was starting and jumped on the steps of the smoking car. Inside he saw a man whom he knew, and, sitting down beside him, they smoked and chatted and laughed together until the train reached the edge of the Bosque Grande, when Nick walked leisurely into the baggage compartment which formed the front half of the smoking car. He nodded a friendly good morning to the baggage man, handed him a cigar, lighted a fresh one himself, and with one eye out at the open door stood and bandied a joke or two with the train man. Presently he caught sight of a bunch of horses behind a willow thicket a little way ahead and saw a big, burly figure near the track.
Then he leaped to the top of the tender, and in another moment was sitting with his long legs dangling from the front end of the coal box. ”Whoo-oo-oo-ee!” sounded in the ears of the engineer and fireman, above the rattle of the train and the roar of the engine. They looked around, astonished and startled by the sudden yell, and saw themselves covered by two c.o.c.ked revolvers.