Paradise Bend Part 55

"De ole tam, dey are wit' me now, my frien'," he observed, "but I do not feel varree bad, me. I am on de move. Un soon dere weel be beeg fight. I have been de scout, I have leeve wit' Enjun, I have hunt all t'ing', un I tell you, Tom, dere ees nothin' like huntin' de man. Dat mak' me feel fine.

"By Gar! w'en I was young man een Blackfoot camp, I was go ovair to de a.s.siniboine, un I run off seex pony un geet two scalp. Dat mak' me beeg man wit' de Blackfoot. Dey say my medicine was good, un eet was good, by Gar! Eet was de Winchestair. De a.s.siniboine w'at chase me was surprise'. Dey not know de Winchestair den. Deir gun all single-shot."

And Laguerre laughed at this recollection of aboriginal amazement.

Loudon made no comment. The laughter died in a grunt. The harsh voice resumed:

"By Gar! I bless de luck dat Scotty sen' me wit' you. I mean for queet un go 'way wit' you like I tol' you, un w'en dem horse t'ief run off de pony, I know I can not queet. I can not leave Scotty like dat.

She ees good frien' to me. But now I go 'way like I wan', un I work for Scotty, too. I am almost satisfy. But at de las' I weel go 'way.

De ole tam, dey weel mak' me. I mus' fin' Pony George before de en'."

"Maybe he's dead," suggested Loudon, moved to cheer up his friend.

"No, she ees not dead. She 'live yet. I can not tell you how I know.

I not know how myself, me. But I know. Somew'ere she wait teel I come. Un I weel come. I weel come. Den, w'en hees hair ees on my bridle, I weel be complete satisfy, un I weel work on de ranch steady.

I not care w'at happen den."

Laguerre fell silent. His reminiscent mood pa.s.sed on to his comrade.

Since leaving the Bend the days had been so crowded that Loudon had had no time to think of anything save the work in hand. But now the tension had slackened, the old days came back to Loudon, and he thought of the girl he had once loved.

He saw her as he used to see her on their rides together along the Lazy River; he saw her swinging in the hammock on the porch of the Bar S ranch house; he saw her smiling at him from the doorway of the room in the Burr house; and he saw her dark eyes with the hurt look in them, her shaking shoulders when she turned sidewise in the chair and wept, her blindly swaying figure when she stumbled from the room. All these things he saw on the screen of his mind.

Apparently she loved him. But was the semblance the reality? It was all very well for Mrs. Burr to talk about coquettes. Kate Saltoun had played with him, had led him on to propose, and then at the end had with contumely and scorn refused him. His sense of injury had so developed that his brain had come to dwell more on the contumely and the scorn than it did on the refusal. Mankind is apt to lose sight of the main issue and to magnify minor events till at last the latter completely overshadow the former.

"It ain't possible," reasoned Loudon, "to care for a girl that called yuh a ignorant puncher. Some day she might get mad an' call yuh that again, an' then where'd yuh be? Wouldn't yuh look nice with a wife that knowed she was better'n you an' told yuh so whenever she felt like it?"

"Well, ain't she better'n you?" queried the honest voice of Inner Consciousness.

"She's lots better," admitted Innate Stubbornness. "But she wants to keep still about it."

"An' she's sh.o.r.e a razzle-dazzler in looks, ain't she?" persisted Inner Consciousness. "An' her ways have changed a lot. An' she acts like she likes yuh. Lately yuh been kind o' missin' her some yoreself, ain't yuh? Ain't yuh, huh? Be kind o' nice to have her round right along, wouldn't it? Sh.o.r.e it would. Which bein' so, don't yuh guess Mis' Burr knows what she's talkin' about? Why can't yuh have sense an'

take the lady's advice?"

"I won't be drove," insisted Innate Stubbornness. "I won't be drove, an' that's whatever."

Inner Consciousness immediately curled up and went to sleep. It had recognized the futility of arguing with Innate Stubbornness. Loudon wondered why he could no longer think connectedly. He gave up trying.

When day broke, the two men left the trail and rode southward. They were tired, but they did not dare halt. In the middle of the afternoon, emerging from a draw, they saw the rails of the Great Western Railroad a hundred yards ahead. They rode westward along the line and reached Damson an hour later.

Two saloons, a blacksmith shop, three houses, the station, and a water-tank, all huddling on the flanks of a railroad corral, made up the town of Damson. It was an unlovely place, and, to complete the effect, a dust-devil received them with open arms.

"Looks like that corral had been used lately," observed Loudon between coughs.

"Bunch o' pony stay dere tree-four day, two week ago, mabbeso,"

qualified Laguerre.

They dismounted and entered the cracked and peeling station. The agent, a pale, flat-chested young man, responded readily to Loudon's inquiries.

"Surely," he said, "about two weeks ago"--riffling duplicate way-bills--"yep, on the seventeenth, Bill Archer s.h.i.+pped ninety-five head Barred Twin Diamond hosses to Cram an' Docket in Piegan City. The two Maxson boys an' a feller they called Rudd was with Archer. Nope, no trouble at all. Eastbound? She's five hours late. Due maybe in an hour an' a half if she don't lose some more. Yep, I'll set the board against her."

When Mr. Cram, senior member of the great horse-dealing firm of Cram & Docket, came down to his office in the morning, Tom Loudon was sitting on the office-steps, an expression of keenest satisfaction on his sunburnt, cinder-grimed face. He had spent the greater part of the preceding two hours strolling among the corrals of Cram & Docket. Mr.

Cram acknowledged by a curt nod the greeting of Loudon.

"I have all the men I can use," began Mr. Cram, gruffly, "and----"

"T'sall right," interrupted Loudon. "I ain't needin' a job this mornin'. I just thought I'd tell yuh that there's ninety-five head o'

stolen hosses in number eight corral."

"Wha-what?" gasped Mr. Cram.

"Hurts, don't it? Shouldn't wonder. Yes, sir, them ninety-five Barred Twin Diamonds yuh bought offen Bill Archer o' Marysville an' s.h.i.+pped from Damson was all stole from Scotty Mackenzie's Flying M ranch up north near Paradise Bend, in the Dogsoldier valley."

"Why--why--I don't understand," stuttered Mr. Cram. "I don't believe a word of it."

Mr. Cram became suddenly aware of the exceeding chilliness in a pair of gray eyes.

"Meanin' how?" queried Loudon, softly.

"Well, of course, I believe you're acting in good faith, but---- Oh, come inside."

"No need. My train's due in thirty minutes. Scotty Mackenzie an' his foreman Doubleday will come down here an' prove owners.h.i.+p in about a week or so."

"But I've just sold that bunch to a firm in Omaha!"

"Yuh won't s.h.i.+p 'em. Yuh see, I thought o' yore sellin' 'em, an' I woke up Judge Curran at six o'clock an' got him to issue a injunction against yore s.h.i.+ppin' 'em. So I guess yuh'll keep 'em till Scotty comes. Yep, I guess yuh will, Mr. Cram. See, here comes the marshal now. Looks like that white paper he's got might be the injunction, don't it?"

CHAPTER XXI

THE JUDGE'S OFFICE

Loudon dropped off the train at Damson into the arms of Johnny Ramsay and Chuck Morgan. Bawling "Pop goes the weasel" they fell upon him, and the three danced upon the platform till a board broke and Chuck Morgan fell down.

Then, in company with the more sedate Laguerre, they jingled across the street to one of the saloons. An hour later they were riding northward, and Loudon was telling Johnny and Chuck what had occurred.

"O' course, just my luck!" complained Johnny. "All done, an' I don't have a look-in. It's all the fault o' that criminal Chuck Morgan.

He's out on Cow Creek, an' I have to comb the range for him."

"Yuh act like I done it a-purpose!" barked Chuck. "O' course I knowed yuh was comin'! That's why I went out there. Think I'm a mind-reader?"

"Yuh wouldn't know a mind if yuh seen one," retorted Johnny. "How could yuh, not ownin' such a thing yoreself? Hey! Don't kick my cayuse! He's a orphan. Go on, Tom, tell us some more about Archer."

The four men did not push their mounts. There was no necessity for haste, and they spent the following afternoon playing cards in a draw five miles out of Marysville. When the sun had set, they rode onward.

Separating at the edge of the town, that their arrival might be unremarked, they met in the rear of Judge Allison's corral. Alone, Loudon approached the house on foot. There was a light in the office.

He rapped on the door.