Prairie Flowers Part 25

Before Cinnabar Joe could fire again at the fleeing Purdy, his wife reached the door of the cabin and knocked his gun-barrel up so that the bullet sped harmlessly into the air. "Don't! Don't Joe!" she screamed, "he said--there was others, an' they'd----"

"I don't care a d.a.m.n what he said! If the others don't spill it, he will. It ain't no use, an' I'd ruther git it over with."

Jennie noticed the dull hopelessness of the tone and her very soul seemed to die within her. "Oh, what is it, Joe?" she faltered, "what's Purdy got on you? What you gone an' done? Tell me, Joe!" The man laid the six-gun on the table and faced her with set lips. "Wait!" she cried before he could speak, "he said they was a woman--in the coulee. They'll be plenty of time to tell me, after you've got her here. Hurry! He said she'd rode a long ways. Chances is she ain't had nothin' to eat all day.

An' while you're gone I'll git things fixed for her." Even as she talked, Jennie was busy at the stove, and without a word Cinnabar left the room, crossed the creek, and walked rapidly toward the mouth of the coulee.

"It ain't no use," he repeated bitterly, "but, I'll git Purdy first--or he'll git me!"

Back in the cabin Jennie completed her arrangements, and stepping to the door, stood with an arm against the jamb and allowed her eyes to travel slowly over the new horse corral and the unfinished stable. Joe's tools lay as he had left them when she had interrupted his work to give him the sandwich. Her fists clenched and she bit her lip to keep back the tears. The wind rustled the curtain in the window and she caught her breath in a great dry sob. "It _is_ all a dream. It was too good to be true--oh--well." A horse splashed through the creek and she saw Cinnabar coming toward her leading a blaze-faced buckskin. A woman was lashed in the saddle, her feet secured by means of a rope that pa.s.sed beneath the horse's belly, her hands lashed to the horn, and her body held in place by means of other strands of rope that pa.s.sed from horn to cantle. Her hat was gone and she sagged limply forward, her disarranged hair falling over her face to mingle with the mane of the horse. She looked like a dead woman. Hastening to meet them, Jennie pushed aside the hair and peered up into the white face: "My Lord!" she cried, "it's--it's her!"

Cinnabar stared: "Do you know her?" he asked in surprise.

"Know her! Of course I know her! It's the pilgrim's girl--that he shot Purdy over. An' a pity he didn't kill him! That Tex Benton, he got 'em acrost the bad lands--an' I heard they got married over in Timber City."

"Who Tex?"

"No, the pilgrim, of course! Get to work now an' cut them ropes an'

don't stand 'round askin' fool questions. Carry her in an' lay her on the bed, an' get the whisky, an' see if that water's boilin' an' pull off her boots, an' stick some more wood in the stove, an' then you clear out till I get her ondressed an' in bed!" And be it to the everlasting credit of Cinnabar Joe that he carried out these commands, each and several, in the order of their naming, and then he walked slowly toward the stable and sat down upon the newly hewn sill and rolled a cigarette.

His tools lay ready to his hand but he stared at them without enthusiasm. When the cigarette was finished he rolled another.

In the cabin Alice Endicott slowly opened her eyes. They swept the room wildly and fixed upon Jennie's face with a look of horror. "There, deary, you're all right now," Jennie patted her cheek rea.s.suringly: "You're all right," she repeated. "Don't you remember me--Jennie Dodds, that was? At the Wolf River Hotel?"

Alice's lips moved feebly: "It must have been a horrible dream--I thought I was tied up--and I broke loose and saw Long Bill and when I tried to get away there stood that horrible Purdy--and he said--" she closed her eyes and shuddered.

"I guess it wasn't no dream, at that. Purdy brung you here. But you're safe an' sound now, deary. Jest you wait till I feed you some of this soup. I'll guarantee you ain't et this noon--an' prob'ly all day."

Jennie moved to the stove and returned a moment later with a cup of steaming soup. Supporting her in a sitting posture, she doled out the hot liquid by spoonfuls. Several times during the process Alice endeavoured to speak but each time Jennie soothed her to silence, and when the cup was finally emptied her eyes closed wearily and she sank back onto the pillow.

Presently her eyes opened: "Where--where is Tex?" she asked, in a scarcely audible tone. "Was he here, too?"

"Tex! You mean Tex Benton? Law! I don't know! He ain't be'n seen sence that night back in Wolf River."

"He didn't drown--and he's--somewhere--after Purdy--" the voice trailed off into silence and at the bedside Jennie waited until the regular breathing told her that the girl had sunk into the deep sleep of utter exhaustion. Then, with a heavy heart, she turned and stepped from the cabin, closing the door softly behind her.

Out of the tail of his eye Cinnabar Joe saw his wife step from the doorway. Rising, hastily from the sill he seized his hammer and began to pound industriously upon a nail that had been driven home two days before. And as he pounded, he whistled. He turned at the sound of his wife's voice. She stood close beside him.

"Now, Joe Banks, don't you stand there an' whistle like a fool! They ain't no more a whistle in your heart than they is in mine!" There was a catch in her voice, and she sank down upon the sill. The whistling ceased, and with rough tenderness Cinnabar laid a hand on her shoulder:

"It's tough on you, girl--after gittin' such a good start. When I told you awhile back that there couldn't nothin' happen, I overlooked one bet--Purdy."

"Oh, what is it, Joe? What's he got on you? Come, Joe, tell me all about it. I married you fer better or fer worse--I've took the better, an' I'd be a poor sport if I couldn't take the worse. Even if I didn't love you, Joe, I'd stick. But I do love you--no matter what you've got into. Tell me all about it, an' we'll work it out--you an' me. You ain't be'n rustlin' horses, have you? An' the bank stakin' us 'cause they trusted us to make good! Oh, Joe--you ain't! Have you Joe?"

The fingers tightened rea.s.suringly upon the woman's shoulder and rea.s.suring were the words with which he answered the appeal of the eyes that looked imploringly into his own:

"No, no, girl--not that. Not nothin' I've done sence--sence I growed up.

I've played the game square sence then." The man seated himself beside her upon the sill: "It's a long story an' starts back, let's see, I was seventeen then, an' now I'm twenty-six--nine years ago, it was, I was workin' over near Goldfield in a mine. Everything was wide open them days an' I was jest a fool kid, spendin' my wages fast as I got 'em, same as all the rest of the miners.

"Out of the riff-raff that worked there in the mines was four men I throw'd in with. They'd drifted in from G.o.d knows where, an' they'd all be'n cowpunchers, an' their talk run mostly to the open range. They was counted hard in a camp that was made up of hard men, an' they kep'

pretty much to theirselves. Somehow or other they kind of took a s.h.i.+ne to me, an' it wasn't long till the five of us was thick as thieves. When we'd be lickered up, makin' the rounds of the saloons, men would edge along an' give us room at the bar. They didn't want none of our meat; although we never made no gun-play, they always figgered we would.

"Bein' a kid, that way, it made me feel mighty big an' important to be jammin' around with 'em. Lookin' back at it now, from my experience on the other side of the bar, I know that if that bunch had drifted into a place I was runnin' I'd spot how my guns laid under the bar so's I could reach 'em without lookin', you bet!

"There was Old Pete Bradley, one-eyed, he was, an' he didn't have no teeth but false ones that clicked when he talked an' rattled when he et.

An' Mike Hinch, with a foretop of thick black hair that hung down over his eyes so it looked like he had to squinch down to see in under it.

An' Scar Lamento, which he was a Dago or Spanish, an' had met up with an accident that tore his mouth down one corner so's he always looked like he was grinnin'. An' Wild Hoss Duffy. An' me. They wasn't none of 'em miners, an' they was always cussin' the mines an' wis.h.i.+n' they was back in the cow-country, so, come spring, we decided to beat it.

"Duffy, he know'd where there was a wild horse range up towards Idaho an' he wanted we should go up there an' hunt wild horses. Scar Lamento, he claimed there was more in it to go to Mexico an' start a revolution, an' Old Pete, an' Mike Hinch, they had each of 'em some other idee. But Duffy's horse range bein' nearest, we decided to tackle it first. We started out with a pack outfit--too little grub, an' too much whisky--an' hit up into the d.a.m.nedest country of blazin' white flats an'

dead mountains you ever heard tell of.

"To cut it short, we didn't get no wild horses. We was lucky to git out of there alive. We et the pack horses one by one, an' almost two months later we come out over in Idaho. We killed a beef an' spent a week eatin' an' restin' up an' drinkin' real water, an' then we hit north. We was busted an' one evenin' we come to the railroad. A pa.s.senger train went by all lit up an' folks settin' inside takin' it easy. We pulled into a patch of timber an' the four of 'em framed it up to hold up the next train. I was scairt out of a year's growth but I stuck, an' they left me in the timber to hold the horses. After a while a train come along an' they flagged her down an' there was a lot of shootin'--n.o.body hurt, the boys was just shootin' to scare the folks. I didn't know that, though, an' believe me, I was scairt. I was jest gettin' ready to beat it, figgerin' that they'd all be'n killed, when here they come, an'

they'd made a good haul, too. We rode all night an' skirted through the mountains. Next mornin' we holed up. Old Pete, he said we'd divide the stuff up after we'd slep so we all turned in but Scar which we posted him fer a lookout.

"It was plumb dark when I woke up--dark an' still. I laid there a while thinkin' the others hadn't woke up yet. By an' by I got up an' hunted around. They'd gone--pulled out on me! They hadn't even left me a horse.

There I was, afoot, an' no tellin' how far from anywheres or what direction it laid. I learned, then, what it was to hate men. Fer a week I tromped through them mountains follerin' cricks an' crossin' divides.

I et berries an' what little stuff I could kill with rocks an' clubs. I killed a deer with my six-shooter an' laid around three days eatin' on it. At last I come to a ranch an' worked there a month an' then worked around different places an' wound up in Cinnabar.

"I got a job drivin' dude wagons out of there an' Gardner, an' one evenin' I was comin' down the trail with my dudes, nine of 'em--an' out steps two men an' shoves six-guns in under my nose. I pulled up an' then I got a good look at 'em. It was Old Pete Bradley, an' Wild Hoss Duffy!

Old Pete had me covered an' Wild Hoss was goin' through my dudes. Old Pete he recognized me about the same time I did him--an' he grinned. He never grinned again! It was a fool thing to do, but I was jest a kid--an' the dirt they'd done me was still fresh. I jerked out my gun an' begun shootin'. An' when I put it up Old Pete an' Wild Hoss was deader'n nits--an' I was so crazy mad that I'd jumped offen the seat an'

was trompin' 'em into the trail. The dudes pulled me off, an' tuck up a collection an' give it to me, an' the company give me a reward, too. The railroad an' the express company had rewards out but I didn't dast try an' collect 'em, 'cause how was I supposed to know they was the ones pulled the hold-up?

"Well, I got kind of notorious fer savin' the dudes an' I had a good thing there until one day I seen a man hangin' around the depot. It was Mike Hinch--an' that night I blew. I worked around after that--cowpunchin', bartendin', minin' an' lots of other jobs, but I never would stay long in a place--till I hit Wolf River an' seen you. I figgered if I had to make a stand it might's well be there as anywheres so I stayed. I know'd Mike Hinch was on my trail. It wasn't that I was afraid of him--afraid he'd shoot me--'cause I'd took care to get so good with a six-gun, either handed, that he wouldn't stand no show. But, I'd learnt my lesson--that crooked work don't pay. I wanted to be on the level, an' I was afraid that Mike would somehow tip me off fer that hold-up, to git even for me killin' Old Pete an' Wild Hoss." Cinnabar paused and, his wife, who had been drinking in every word leaned toward him eagerly:

"But, Purdy? How did Purdy git in on it?"

"I was comin' to that. A year ago, Purdy had a little job of dirty work he wanted done an' he come to me to do it. I told him where to head in at an' then he sprung--what I've jest told you. I pulled my gun an'

covered him, but--somehow I couldn't shoot him down in cold blood--not even fer that. He'd left his guns off a purpose. Then he lit in an' told how he was ridin' along Big Dry an' found a man layin' there with his back broke, which his horse had throw'd him off. Purdy seen he was all in an' while he stood lookin' at him the fellow got to mutterin' about a hold-up. Purdy fetched him some water an' the man--he was Mike Hinch--begged him to give him his gun which had fell out of his reach, so he could put hisself out of misery. Purdy thought if he was a hold-up, he'd have a _cache_ somewheres, so he d.i.c.kered with him, agreein' to pa.s.s him the gun if he'd tell where his _cache_ was. Mike said he didn't have no _cache_. He was headin' to Wolf River to horn some money out of me to keep him from tippin' off the sheriff that I was in on that hold-up. So Purdy give him his gun--an' he shot hisself, but before he died he told Purdy that he was the only one left of the gang--I'd b.u.mped off two, an' Scar Lamento had got killed down in Mexico." Cinnabar removed his hat and breathed deeply, "So now you've got it--straight. I'd ought to told you before--but, somehow--I kep'

puttin' it off." He rose to his feet. "I'm goin' out an' git Purdy, now--I'd ought to done it long ago."

Jennie rose and laid a hand on his arm: "Jest one thing more, Joe? That little job of dirty work that Purdy wanted you to do--did you do it?"

Cinnabar grinned, "I did--an' I didn't. Ask Tex Benton--he knows."

"Tex Benton! That reminds me!" Jennie paused and pointed toward the cabin. "In there, she told me that Tex is huntin' Purdy. How it comes she's keepin' cases on Tex--an' her married--is more'n I know. But that's what she said."

Cinnabar stared at her: "Tex huntin' Purdy!" he cried, "well, if he is, it's good-night Purdy! An' I'm right now on my way to help him. It means I'll do time, but I'll back up Tex's play, an' between the two of us we'll git him."

Jennie shook her head: "No, Joe--not that way."

"What do you mean 'not that way'?"

"It's like--murder----"

"Murder!" exclaimed Cinnabar, "it ain't no murder to kill a skunk like him! He's got us right where he wants us. This is only the beginnin' of what he'll do to us. If I don't come acrost with whatever he says--up I go. An' if I do come acrost, up I go anyhow--he'll double-cross me jest to git me out of the way--an' where'll you be?"

"Listen, Joe," the woman had risen and stood facing him, "it ain't right to go huntin' him that way. I don't know if I c'n make you see it--like I do. You ain't a coward, Joe--you've always come through like a man.

Everyone knows that. But if you go huntin' Purdy it would be because you was afraid of him----"

"Afraid of him! I'll show you how much I'm----"

"I don't mean that way, Joe! I know you ain't afraid to shoot it out with him. What I mean is, you're afraid to have him runnin' around loose--afraid that if he squeals, you'll do time. Now, it would be pretty clost to murder if you killed a man, no matter how ornery he is, jest to save your own hide----"