Langford of the Three Bars Part 4

"Guess you kin," answered Jim, wonder in his voice at the exceeding barrenness of the order. "Mrs. Higgins, h.e.l.lo there, Mrs. Higgins! I say, there, bring on some tea and toast for the lady!"

"Where is the Three Bars?" asked Louise, her thoughts straying to the terrors of a fifteen-mile drive through a strange and uncanny country with a stranger and yet more uncanny man. She had accepted him without question. He was part and parcel with the strangeness of her new position. But the suddenness of the transition from idle conjecture to startling reality had raised her proud head and she looked this new development squarely in the face without outward hint of inward perturbation.

"Say, where was you raised?" asked Jim, with tolerant scorn, between huge mouthfuls of boiled pork and cabbage, interspersed with baked potatoes, hot rolls, and soggy dumplings, shovelled in with knife, fork, or spoon. He occasionally antic.i.p.ated dessert by making a sudden sortie into the quarter of an immense custard pie, hastening the end by means of noisy draughts of steaming coffee. Truly, the Three Bars connection had the fat of the land at the Bon Ami.

"Why, it's the Three Bars that's bringin' you here. Didn't you know that? There's nary a man in the hull country with backbone enough to keep him off all-fours 'ceptin' Paul Langford. Um. You just try once to walk over the Boss, will you? Lord! What a grease spot you'd make!"

"Mr. Gordon isn't being walked over, is he?" asked Louise, finished with her tea and toast and impatient to be off.

"Oh, Gordon? Pretty decent sort o' chap. Right idees. Don't know much about handlin' hoss thieves and sich. Ain't smooth enough. Acted kind o'

like a chicken with its head cut off till the Boss got into the roundup."

"Oh!" said Louise, whose conception of the young counsel for the State did not tally with this delineation.

"Yep, Miss, this here's the Boss's doin's. Yep. Lord! What'll that gang look like when we are through with 'em? Spendin' the rest o' their days down there in Sioux Falls, meditatin' on the advisability o' walkin'

clear o' the toes o' the Three Bars in the future and cussin' their stupendified stupidity in foolin' even once with the Three Bars. Yep, sir-yep, ma'am, I mean,-Jesse Black and his gang have acted just like pesky, little plum'-fool moskeeters, and we're goin' to slap 'em. The cheek of 'em, lightin' on the Three Bars! Lord!"

"Mr. Williston informed, did he not?"

"Williston? Oh, yes, he informed, but he'd never 'a' done it if it hadn't 'a' been for the Boss. The ol' jellyfish wouldn't 'a' had the nerve to inform without backin', as sure as a stone wall. The Boss is a doin' this, I tell you, Miss. But Williston's a goin' on the stand to-morrer all right, and so am I."

The two cowboys at the corner table had long since finished their supper. They now lighted bad-smelling cigars and left the room. To Louise's great relief, Munson rose, too. He was back very soon with a neat little runabout and a high-spirited team of bays.

"Boss's private," explained Jim with pride. "Nothin' too good for a lady, so the Boss sent this and me to take keer o' it. And o' you, too, Miss," he added, as an afterthought.

He held the lines in his brown, muscular hands, lovingly, while he stowed away Louise's belongings and himself snugly in the seat, and then the blood burned hot and stinging through his bronzed, tough skin, for suddenly in his big, honest, untrained sensibilities was born the consciousness that the Boss would have stowed away the lady first. It was an embarra.s.sing moment. Louise saved the day by climbing in unconcernedly after him and tucking the linen robe over her skirt.

"It will be a dusty drive, won't it?" she asked, simply.

"Miss, you're a-dandy," said Jim as simply.

As they drove upon the pontoon bridge, Louise looked back at the little town on the bluffs, and felt a momentary choking in her throat. It was a strange place, yet it had tendrils reaching homeward. The trail beyond was obscurely marked and not easy to discern. She turned to her companion and asked quickly: "Why didn't Mary come?"

"Great guns! Did I forgit to tell you? Williston's got the stomach-ache to beat the band and Mary's got to physic him up 'gin to-morrer. We've got to git him on that stand if it takes the hull Three Bars to hol' him up and the gal a pourin' physic down him between times. Yep, Ma'am. He was pizened. You see, everybody that ate any meat last night was took sick with gripin' cramps, yep; but Williston he was worse'n all, he bein' a hearty eater. He was a stayin' in town over night on this preliminary business, and d.i.c.k Gordon he was took, too, but not so bad, bein' what you might call a light eater. The Boss and me we drove home after all, though we'd expected to stay for supper. The pesky coyotes got fooled that time. Yep, Ma'am, no doubt about it in the world.

Friends o' Jesse's that we ain't able to lay hands on yit pizened that there meat. Yep, no doubt about it. d.i.c.k was in an awful sweat about you. Was bound he was a comin' after you hisself, sick as he was, when we found Mary was off the count. So then the Boss was a comin' and they fit and squabbled for an hour who could be best spared, when I, comin'

in, settled it in a jiffy by offerin' my services, which was gladly accepted. When there's pizenin' goin' on, why, the Boss's place is hum.

And nothin' would do but the Boss's own particular outfit. He never does things by halves, the Boss don't. So I hikes home after it and then hikes here."

"I am very grateful to him, I am sure," murmured Louise, smiling.

And Jim, daring to look upon her smiling face, clear eyes, and soft hair under the jaunty French sailor hat, found himself wondering why there was no woman at the Three Bars. With the swift, half-intuitive thought, the serpent entered Eden.

CHAPTER VI

"NOTHIN' BUT A HOSS THIEF, ANYWAY"

The island teemed with early sunflowers and hints of goldenrod yet to come. The fine, white, sandy soil deadened the sound of the horses'

hoofs. They seemed to be spinning through s.p.a.ce. Under the cottonwoods it grew dusky and still.

At the toll house a dingy buckboard in a state of weird dilapidation, with a team of s.h.a.ggy buckskin ponies, stood waiting. Jim drew up. Two men were lounging in front of the shanty, chatting to the toll-man.

"h.e.l.lo, Jim!" called one of them, a tall, slouching fellow with sandy coloring.

"Now, how the devil did you git so familiar with my name?" growled Jim.

"The Three Bars is gettin' busy these days," spoke up the second man, with an insolent grin.

"You bet it is," bragged Jim. "When the off'cers o' the law git to sleepin' with hoss thieves and rustlers, and take two weeks to arrest a bunch of 'em, when they know prezactly where they keep theirselves, and have to have special deputies app'inted over 'em five or six times and then let most o' the bunch slip through their fingers, it's time for some one to git busy. And when Jesse Black and his gang are so desp'rit they pizen the chief witnesses-"

A gentle pressure on his arm stopped him. He turned inquiringly.

"I wouldn't say any more," whispered Louise. "Let's get on."

The hint was sufficient, and with the words, "Right you are, Miss Reporter, we'll be gittin' on," Jim paid his toll and spoke to his team.

"Just wait a bit, will you?" spoke up the sandy man.

"What for?"

"We're not just ready."

"Well, we are," shortly.

"We aren't, and we don't care to be pa.s.sed, you know."

He spoke indifferently. In deference to Louise, Jim waited. The men smoked on carelessly. The toll-man fidgeted.

"You go to h.e.l.l! The Three Bars ain't waitin' on no d.a.m.ned hoss thieves," said Jim, suddenly.

His nervous team sprang forward. Quick as a flash the sandy man was in the buckboard. He struck the bays a stinging blow with his rawhide, and as they swerved aside he swung into the straight course to the narrow bridge of boats. In another moment the way would be blocked. With a burning oath Jim, keeping to the side of the steep incline till the river mire cut him off, deliberately turned his stanch little team squarely, and crowded them forward against the s.h.a.ggy buckskins. It was team against team. Louise, clinging tightly to the seat, lips pressed together to keep back any sound, felt a wild, inexplicable thrill of confidence in the strength of the man beside her.

The bays were pitifully, cruelly lashed by the enraged owner of the buckskins, but true as steel to the familiar voice that had guided them so often and so kindly, they gave not nor faltered. There was a snapping of broken wood, a wrench, a giving way, and the runabout sprang over debris of broken wheel and wagon-box to the narrow confines of the pontoon bridge.

"The Three Bars is gettin' busy!" gibed Jim over his shoulder.

"It's a sorry day for you and yours," cried the other, in black and ugly wrath.

"We ain't afeared. You're nothin' but a hoss thief, anyway!" responded Jim, gleefully, as a parting shot.

"Now what do you suppose was their game?" he asked of the girl at his side.

"I don't know," answered Louise, thoughtfully. "But I thought it not wise to say too much to them. You are a witness, I believe you said."

"Then you think they are part o' the gang?"