Langford of the Three Bars Part 25

From the formation of the land, I judged we were not far from the river.

We were surrounded by bluffs. I can hardly make you see how cleverly this little retreat had been planned. It was in a valley-one of a hundred similar in all essential respects. The gulch at the bottom of the valley was heavily wooded with scrub-oak, cottonwood, woodbine, and plum-trees, and this tangle of foliage extended for some distance up the sides of the hills. In the midst of this underbrush-a most excellent screen-was a tiny cabin. In this tiny cabin I have lived, a closely watched prisoner, from that day until I escaped."

The defendant stirred a little uneasily. Was he thinking of Nightbird with the dark, frozen face-who had not answered to his call?

"Black left me soon after. He did not unbind me, rather bound me the tighter. There was no one then to watch me. He deigned to inform me that he had found it rather inconvenient to kill me after the relief party rode up, as then there was no absolute surety of his making a clean get-away, and being caught in the act would be bound to be unpleasant, very unpleasant just then, so he had altered his plans a little-for the present. He gave me no hint either that time, nor either of the two times I saw him subsequently, as to what was to be his ultimate disposal of me. I could only suppose that after this trial was well over in his favor, and fear of indictment for arson and murder had blown over-if blow over it did,-he would then quietly put an end to me. Dead men tell no tales. The shanty in the gulch did not seem to be much of a rendezvous for secret meetings. I led a lonely existence. My jailers were mostly half-breeds-usually Charlie Nightbird. Two or three times Jake Sanderson was my guard."

Then from the doorway came a loud, clear, resonant voice, a joyful voice, a voice whose tones fairly oozed rapture.

"h.e.l.lity d.a.m.n! The Three Bars's a gettin' busy, Mouse-hair!"

Judge Dale started. He glared angrily in that direction.

"Remove that man!" he ordered, curtly. He liked Jim, but he could not brook this crying contempt of court. Jim was removed. He went quietly, but shaking his head reproachfully.

"I never would 'a' thought it o' the Jedge," he murmured, disconsolately. "I never would 'a' thought it."

There was a movement in the back of the room. A man was making his way out, slipping along, cat-like, trying to evade attention. Quietly Gordon motioned to the sheriff and slipped a paper into his hand.

"Look sharp," he whispered, his steady eyes on the s.h.i.+fty ones of the sheriff. "If you let him get away, just remember the handwriting on the wall. It's our turn now."

Presently, there was a slight scuffle by the door and two men quietly left the improvised court-room.

"Day before yesterday, in the afternoon," continued Williston, "I managed to knock Nightbird down at the threshold as he was about to enter. I had secretly worked a cross-beam from the low, unfinished ceiling. There was nothing else in the room I might use for a weapon.

They were very careful. I think I killed him, your honor and gentlemen of the jury. I am not sorry. There was no other way. But I would rather it had been the maker, not the tool. By the time I had made my way back to the Lazy S, I was too exhausted to go further; so I crawled over to my neighbors, the Whites, and Mother White made me a shake down. I lay there, nearly dead, until this morning."

He leaned back wearily.

Black stood up. He was not lank nor lazy now, nor shuffling. His body was drawn to its full height. In the instant before the spring, Mary, who was sitting close to the attorneys' table, met his glance squarely.

She read there what he was about to do. Only a moment their eyes held each other's, but it was time enough for a swift message of understanding, of utter dislike, and of a determined will to defeat the man's purpose, to pa.s.s from the accusing brown eyes to the cruel ones of the defendant.

Quick as a flash, Black seized the chair upon which he had been sitting, sprang clear of the table and his lawyers, and landed close to Mary's side. With his chair as a weapon, he meant to force his way to the nearest window. Mary's eyes dilated. Unhesitatingly she seized the half-emptied gla.s.s on the table and dashed the contents of it full into the prisoner's face. Blinded, he halted a moment in his mad rush. Mary's quick manuvre made Langford's opportunity. He grappled with Black. The crowd went mad with excitement.

The prisoner still retained his chair. When Langford grappled with him, he attempted to bring it down upon the fair head of his antagonist. Mary gasped with dread, but Langford grasped the chair with one muscular hand, wrested it from the desperado's hold, and threw it to the floor.

The two men locked in a close embrace. Langford's great strength was more than sufficient to hold the outlaw until the dazed officers could do their duty-had he been let alone; but two men, who had been standing near the door when the prisoner made his unexpected leap for liberty, had succeeded in worming their way through the excited crowd, and now suddenly threw themselves upon the ranchman, dragging him back.

"Stand aside or I'll shoot!"

It was a girl's voice, clear and firm. Mary had been the first to realize that Black's friends, not Langford's, had joined in the struggle. She s.n.a.t.c.hed her revolver from her cowboy belt-she had not been without either since the Lazy S was burned-and cried out her challenge. Glancing quickly from the gleaming barrel to the determined face of the young girl, the men let go their hold of Langford and fell back precipitately.

Instantly, Langford sprang forward, but Black had made good use of his moment of grace. Swinging his arms to the right and left, he had beaten his way to the window, when Langford again seized him, but he had the advantage this time and he tore himself loose, throwing Langford violently against the window-casing. With his bare, clinched fist, he s.h.i.+vered the gla.s.s and leaped out-into the arms of Jim Munson.

The officers made gallant plunges through the stampeded crowd in their efforts to get clear of the room to follow the fugitive. But certain men managed to keep themselves clumsily, but with marvellous adroitness nevertheless, between the deputies and the doors and windows; so that several moments elapsed before the outside was finally gained.

Meanwhile, Jim struggled heroically with the outlaw. Black was far superior to him in weight and strength of limb, but Jim was quick and tough and daring. Expelled from the court room, he had been watching through the window. He had seen Mary's quick action and his Boss's splendid attack. He had also seen the little "gun play" and his eyes glowed in admiration of "Williston's little girl," though his generous heart ached for love of the woman who was not for him. He saw Black coming. He was ready for him. He grappled with him at once. If the Boss or the officers would only come now!

When they did come, they found Jim stretched at length on the frozen ground. He sat up slowly.

"You're too late, boys," he said; "the hoss thief was too much for me.

He's gone."

It was true. The little street stretched before them still-deserted.

Early twilight was coming on. The biting cold struck them broadside. The deputies scattered in vain pursuit.

CHAPTER XXI

THE MOVING SHADOW

"I'd rather not talk about it to-night. I'm not equal to it.

It's-too-too it's devilish, Paul. I don't seem to be able to grasp it. I can't think about it with any coherence. I was so sure-so sure."

Gordon was staring moodily out of the window, one arm hanging idly over the back of his chair. He had taken up office room in an empty shop building across the street from the hotel.

"It's so devilish, it's weird," agreed the ranchman. "But your part was great. You vanquished Jesse Black. That is more than we hoped for a week ago. Is it your fault or mine that those fool deputies acted like flies in tangle-foot and went spraddle-fingered when something was expected of them? We have nothing to do with a little thing like a broken windowpane."

There was an ugly cut on his forehead caused by his violent contact with the sharp edge of the window casing. He was pale, but he had lost none of the old faith in himself or in his power to dominate affairs in the cattle country. Defeat was intolerable to him. He refused to bow his head to it. To-day's check only made him the more determined, if that were possible, to free the land of its shame.

"I'll pull myself together again, never fear," said Gordon. "Just give me to-night. You see that's not all. I've something else to think about, too, now that I have time. It takes a fellow's nerve away to have everything that is worth while drop out at once. But I've rallied before. I know I'm beastly selfish not to talk to you to-night, but-"

"d.i.c.k," interrupted Langford, bluntly, "did she turn you down?"

"I never asked her. She is going back-home-next week."

"If you let her."

"You don't quite understand, Paul," said Gordon, a little wearily. "She said she could never live in this country-never. She would die here.

Could I ask her after that? Could I ask her anyway, and be a man? I know. She would just pine away."

"Girls don't pine-only in imagination. They are tougher than you give them credit for."

"But somehow, Mary seems different," said Gordon, thoughtfully. He surprised a flush in his friend's cheek. "You deserve her, old man, you'll be very happy. She is the right kind. I congratulate you with all my heart."

An odd lump came into Langford's throat. Despite Gordon's vigorous and healthful manhood, there seemed always a certain pathos of life surrounding him.

"I haven't asked, either," confessed Paul. "But you have made it possible for me to do so-to-night-to-morrow-whenever I can find a chance. Take my advice, old man, don't let your girl go. You'll find she is the kind after all. You don't know her yet."

Paul left the room, and Gordon paced the narrow confines of his shabby office-back and forth-many times. Then he threw himself once more into his chair. The hours were long. He had all night to think about things.

When morning came, all his weakness would be over. No one should ever again see him so unmanned as Paul had seen him to-night And when Louise should go-his arms fell nervelessly to the table. He remained thus a moment, his eyes fixed and unseeing, and then his head dropped heavily upon his arms.

Alone in the night, Louise awoke. She found it impossible to fall asleep again. She was nervous. It must be something in the atmosphere. She tossed and tossed and flounced and flounced. She counted up to thousands. She made her mind a blank so often that she flew to thinking to escape the emptiness of it. Still her eyes were wide and her mind fairly a-quiver with activity. She slipped out of bed. She would tire herself into sleep. She even dressed. She would show herself. If she must be a midnight prowler, she would wear the garments people affect when they have their thoughts and energies fixed on matters mundane.

Drawing the oil stove close to the window fronting the street, she sank into a chair, drew a heavy shawl over her shoulders, put her feet on the tiny fender, and prepared to fatigue herself into oblivion.

A light shone from the window across the way. He was still at work, then. He ought not to sit up so late. No wonder he was looking so worn out lately. He ought to have some one to look after him. He never thought of himself. He never had time. She would talk to him about keeping such late hours-if she were not going back to G.o.d's country next week. Only next week! It was too good to be true,-and yet she sighed.

But there was no other way. She ought never to have come. She was not big enough. He, too, had told her she was not the kind. Doubtless, he knew. And she didn't belong to anybody here. She was glad she was going back to where she belonged to somebody. She would never go away again.

Was that Gordon pa.s.sing back and forth in front of the window? Something must be troubling him. Was it because Jesse Black had escaped? But what a glorious vindication of his belief in the man's guilt had that afternoon been given! Nothing lacked there. Why should he be sorry?