The Story of the Foss River Ranch Part 31

He watched her closely as she moved amongst her uncouth surroundings.

Her beautiful face and graceful figure was like to an oasis of stately flora in a desert of trailing, vicious brambles, and he marveled at the familiarity with which she came among these people. Moreover, he became beset with misgivings as he remembered the old stories which linked this girl's name with that of Retief. He struggled to fathom the meaning of what he saw, but the real significance of her coming escaped him.

The Breeds once more returned to their dancing, and all went on as before. Horrocks followed Jacky's movements with his eyes. He saw her standing beside a toothless old woman, who wagged her cunning, aged head as she talked in answer to the girl's questions. Jacky seemed to be looking and inquiring for some one, and the officer wondered if the object of her solicitude was Retief. He would have been surprised had he known that she was inquiring and looking for himself. Presently she seated herself and appeared to be absorbed in the dance.

The drink was flowing freely now, and a constant demand was being made upon Baptiste. Whilst the fiery spirit scorched down the hardened throats, strange, weird groans came from the fiddler's woeful instrument. The old man was tuning it down for the plaintive requirements of the Red River Jig.

The dance of the evening was about to begin. Men and women primed themselves for the effort. Each was eager to outdo his or her neighbor in variety of steps and power of endurance. All were prepared to do or die. The mad jig was a national contest, and the one who lasted the longest would be held the champion dancer of the district--a coveted distinction amongst this strange people.

At last the music began again, and now the familiar "Ragtime" beat fascinatingly upon the air. Those who lined the walls took up the measure, and, with foot and clapping hands, marked the time for the dancers. Those who competed leapt to the fray, and soon the reeking room became stifling with dust.

The fiddler's time, slow at the commencement, soon grew faster, and the dancers shook their limbs in delighted antic.i.p.ation. Faster and faster they shuffled and jigged, now opposite to partners, now round each other, now pa.s.sing from one partner to another, now alone, for the admiration of the onlookers. Nor was there pause or hesitation. An instant's pause meant dropping out of that mad and old time "hoe-down,"

and each coveted the distinction of champion. Faster and more wildly they footed it, and soon the speed caused some of the less agile to drop out. It was a giddy sight to watch, and the strange clapping of the spectators was not the least curious feature of the scene.

The crowd of dancers grew thinner as the fiddler, with a marvelous display of latent energy, kept ever-increasing his speed.

In spite of himself Horrocks became fascinated. There was something so barbarous--heathenish--in what he beheld. The minutes flew by, and the dance was rapidly nearing its height. More couples fell out, dead beat and gasping, but still there remained a number who would fight it out to the bitter end. The streaming faces and gaping lips of those yet remaining told of the dreadful strain. Another couple dropped out, the woman actually falling with exhaustion. She was dragged aside and left unnoticed in the wild excitement. Now were only three pairs left in the center of the floor.

The police-officer found himself speculating as to which would be the winner of the contest.

"That brown-faced wench, with the flaming red dress, 'll do 'em all," he said to himself. The woman he was watching had a young Breed of great agility for her _vis-a-vis_. "She or her partner 'll do it," he went on, almost audibly. "Good," he was becoming enthusiastic, "there's another couple done," as two more suddenly departed, and flung themselves on the ground exhausted. "Yes, they'll do it--crums, but there goes her partner! Keep it up, girl--keep it up. The others won't be long. Stay with--"

He broke off in alarm as he felt his arm suddenly clutched from behind.

Simultaneously he felt heavy breathing blowing upon his cheek. Quick as a flash his revolver was whipped out and he swung round.

"Easy, sergeant," said the voice of one of his troopers. "For Gawd's sake don't shoot. Say, Retief's down at the settlement. A messenger's jest come up to say he's 'hustled' all our horses from Lablache's stable, and the old man himself's in trouble. Come over to that bluff yonder, the messenger's there. He's one of Lablache's clerks."

The police-officer was dumbfounded, and permitted himself to be conducted to the bluff without a word. He was wondering if he were dreaming, so sudden and unexpected was the announcement of the disaster.

When he halted at the bluff, the clerk was still discussing the affair with one of the troopers. As yet the other two were in their places of concealment, and were in ignorance of what had happened.

"It's dead right," the clerk said, in answer to Horrocks's sharply-put inquiry. "I'd been in bed sometime when I was awakened by a terrible racket going on in the office. It's just under the room I sleep in.

Well, I hopped out of bed and slipped on some clothes, and went downstairs, thinking the governor had been taken with a fit or something. When I got down the office was in darkness, and quiet as death. I went cautiously to work, for I was a bit scared. Striking a light I made my way in, expecting to find the governor laid out, but, instead, I found the furniture all chucked about and the room empty. It wasn't two shakes before I lit upon this sheet of paper. It was lying on the desk. The governor's writing is unmistakable. You can see for yourself; here it is--"

Horrocks took the sheet, and, by the light of a match read the scrawl upon it. The writing had evidently been done in haste, but its meaning was clear.

"Retief is here," it ran. "I am a prisoner. Follow up with all speed.

LABLACHE."

After reading, Horrocks turned to the clerk, who immediately went on with his story.

"Well, I just bolted out to the stables intending to take a horse and go over to 'Poker' John's. But when I got there I found the doors open, an'

every blessed horse gone. Yes, your horses as well--and the governor's buckboard too. I jest had a look round, saw that the team harness had gone with the rest, then I ran as hard as I could pelt to the Foss River Ranch. I found old John up, but he'd been drinking, so, after a bit of talk, I learned from him where you were and came right along. That's all, sergeant, and bad enough it is too. I'm afraid they'll string the governor up. He ain't too popular, you know."

The clerk finished up his breathless narrative in a way that left no doubt in the mind of his hearers as to his sincerity. He was trembling with nervous excitement still. And even in the starlight the look upon his face spoke of real concern for his master.

For some seconds the officer did not reply. He was thinking rapidly. To say that he was chagrined would hardly convey his feelings. He had been done--outwitted--and he knew it. Done--like the veriest tenderfoot. He, an officer of wide experience and of considerable reputation. And worst of all he remembered Lablache's warning. He, the money-lender, had been more far-seeing--had understood something of the trap which he, Horrocks, had plunged headlong into. The thought was as worm-wood to the prairie man, and helped to cloud his judgment as he now sought for the best course to adopt. He saw now with bitter, mental self-reviling, how the story that Gautier had told him--and for which he had paid--and which had been corroborated by the conversation he had heard in the camp, had been carefully prepared by the wily Retief; and how he, like a hungry, simple fish, had deliberately risen and devoured the bait. He was maddened by the thought, too, that the money-lender had been right and he wrong, and took but slight solace from the fact that the chief disaster had overtaken that great man.

However, it was plain that something must be done at once to a.s.sist Lablache, and he cast about in his mind for the best means to secure the money-lender's release. In his dilemma a recollection came to him of the presence of Jacky Allandale in the barn, and a feeling nearly akin to revenge came to him. He felt that in some way this girl was connected with, and knew of, the doings of Retief.

With a hurried order to remain where they were to his men he returned to his station at the window of the barn. He looked in, searching for the familiar figure of the girl. Dancing had ceased, and the howling Breeds were drinking heavily. Jacky was no longer to be seen, and, with bitter disappointment, he turned again to rejoin his companions. There was nothing left to do but to hasten to the settlement and procure fresh horses.

He had hardly turned from the window when several shots rang out on the night air. They came from the direction in which he was moving.

Instantly he comprehended that an attack was being made upon his troopers. He drew his pistol and dashed forward at a run. Three paces sufficed to terminate his race. Silence had followed the firing of the shots he had heard. Suddenly his quick ears detected the hiss of a lariat whistling through the air. He spread out his arms to ward it off.

He felt something fall upon them. He tried to throw it off, and, the next instant the rope jerked tight round his throat, and he was hurled, choking, backwards upon the ground.

CHAPTER XIX

LABLACHE'S MIDNIGHT VISITOR

Lablache was alone in his office. He was more alone than he had ever been in his life; or, at least, he felt more alone--which amounted to much the same thing. Possibly, had he been questioned on the subject, he would have pooh-poohed the idea, but, nevertheless, in his secret heart he felt that, in spite of his vast wealth, he was a lonely man. He knew that he had not a single friend in Foss River; and in Calford, another center of his great wealth, things were no better. His methods of business, whilst they brought him many familiar acquaintances--a large circle of people who were willing to trade, repelled all approach to friends.h.i.+p. Besides, his personality was against him. His flinty disposition and unscrupulous love of power were all detrimental to human affection.

As a rule, metaphorically speaking, he snapped his fingers at these things. Moreover, he was glad that such was the case; he could the more freely indulge his pa.s.sion for grab. Hated, he could work out his peculiar schemes without qualms of conscience; loved, it would have been otherwise. Yes, Lablache preferred this social ostracism.

But the great money-lender had his moments of weakness--moments when he rebelled against his solitary lot. He knew that his isolated position had been brought about by himself--fostered by himself, and he knew he preferred that it should be so. But, nevertheless, at times he felt very lonely, and in these moments of weakness he wondered if he obtained full consolation in his great wealth for his marooned position. Generally the result of these reflections brought him satisfaction. How? is a question. Possibly he forced himself, by that headstrong power with which he bent others who came into contact with him to his will, to such a conclusion. Lablache was certainly a triumph of relentless purpose over flesh and feelings.

Lablache was nearly fifty, and had lived alone since he was in his teens. Now he pined as all who live a solitary life must some day pine, for a companion to share his loneliness. He craved not for the society of his own s.e.x. With the instinct in us all he wanted a mate to share with him his golden nest. But this ma.s.s of iron nerve and obesity was not as other men. He did not weakly crave, and then, with his wealth, set out to secure a wife who could raise him in the social scale, or add to the bags which he had watched grow in bulk from flattened folds of sacking, to the distended proportions of miniature balloons. No, he desired a girl, the only relation of a man whom he had helped to ruin--a girl who could bring him no social distinction, and who could not add one penny piece to his already enormous wealth. Moreover, strangely enough, he had conceived for her a pa.s.sion which was absolutely unholy in its intensity. It is needless, then, to add, when, speaking of such a man, that, willing or not, he intended that Jacky Allandale should be his.

Thoughts of this wild, quarter-breed girl filled his brain as he sat solitary in his little office on the night of the pusky. He sat in his favorite chair, in his favorite position. He was lounging back with his slippered feet resting on the burnished steel foot-rests of the stove.

There was no fire in the stove, of course, but from force of habit he gazed thoughtfully at the mica sides which surrounded the firebox.

Probably in this position he had thought out some of his most dastardly financial schemes and therefore most suitable it seemed now as he calculated his chances of capturing the wild prairie girl for his mate.

He had given up all thoughts of ever obtaining her willing consent, and, although his vanity had been hurt by her rejection of his advances, still he was not the man to be easily thwarted. His fertile brain had evolved a means by which to achieve his end, and, to his scheme-loving nature, the process was anything but distasteful. He had always, from the first moment he had decided to make Jacky Allandale his wife, been prepared for such a contingency as her refusal, and had never missed an opportunity of ensnaring her uncle in his financial toils. He had understood the old man's weakness, and, with satanic cunning, had set himself to the task of wholesale robbery, with crus.h.i.+ng results to his victim. This had given him the necessary power to further prosecute his suit. As yet he had not displayed his hand. He felt that the time was barely ripe. Before putting the screw on the Allandales it had been his object to rid the place, and his path, of his only stumbling block. In this he had not quite succeeded as we have seen. He quite understood that the Hon. Bunning-Ford must be removed from Foss River first. Whilst he was on hand Jacky would be difficult to coerce. Instinctively he knew that "Lord" Bill was her lover, and, with him at hand to advise her, Jacky would hold out to the last. However, he believed that in the end he must conquer. Bunning-Ford's resources were very limited he knew, and soon his hated rival must leave the settlement and seek pastures new.

Lablache was but a clever scheming mortal. He did not credit others with brains of equal caliber, much less cleverer and more resourceful than his own. It had been better for him had his own success in life been less a.s.sured, for then he would have been more doubtful of his own ability to do as he wished, and he would have given his adversaries credit for a cleverness which he now considered as only his.

After some time spent in surveying and considering his plans his thoughts reverted to other matters. This was the night of the half-breed pusky. His great face contorted into a sarcastic smile as he thought of Sergeant Horrocks. He remembered with vivid acuteness every incident of his interview with the officer two nights ago. He bore the man no malice now for the contradiction of himself, for the reason that he was sure his own beliefs on the subject of Retief would be amply realized.

His lashless eyes quivered as his thoughts invoked an inward mirth. No one realized more fully than did this man the duplicity and cunning of the Breed. He antic.i.p.ated a great triumph over Horrocks the next time he saw him.

As the time pa.s.sed on he became more himself. His loneliness did not strike him so keenly. He felt that after all there was great satisfaction to be drawn from a watcher's observance of men. Isolated as he was he was enabled to look on men and things more critically than he otherwise would be.

He reached over to his tobacco jar, which stood upon his desk, and leisurely proceeded to fill his pipe. It was rarely he indulged himself in an idle evening, but to-night he somehow felt that idleness would be good. He was beginning to feel the weight of his years.

He lit his heavy briar and proceeded to envelop himself in a cloud of smoke. He gasped out a great sigh of satisfaction, and his leathery eyelids half closed. Presently a gentle tap came at the gla.s.s door, which part.i.tioned off the office from the store. Lablache called out a guttural "Come in," at the same time glancing at the loud ticking "alarm" on the desk. He knew who his visitor was.

One of the clerks opened the door.

"It is past ten, sir, shall I close up?" he asked.

"Yes, close up. Whose evening off is it?"

"Rodgers, sir. He is still out. He'll be in before midnight, sir."

"Ah, down at the saloon, I expect," said Lablache, drily. "Well, bolt the front door. Just leave it on the spring latch. I shall be up until he comes in. What are you two boys going to do?"

"Going to bed, sir."