Cow-Country Part 19

"I always used to feel spooky when I was riding through here," Marian said, dropping back so that they rode side by side, stirrups touching.

"I was ten when I first made the trip. It was to get away from Indians.

They wouldn't come into these places. Eddie and I found the way through.

We were afraid they were after us, and so we kept going, and our horses brought us out. Eddie--is my brother."

"You grew up here?" Bud did not know how much incredulity was in his voice. "I was raised amongst the Indians in Wyoming. I thought you were from the East."

"I was in Chicago for three years," Marian explained. "I studied every waking minute, I think. I wanted to be a singer. Then--I came home to help bury mother. Father--Lew and father were partners, and I--married Lew. I didn't know--it seemed as though I must. Father put it that way.

The old story, Bud. I used to laugh at it in novels, but it does happen.

Lew had a hold over father and Eddie, and he wanted me. I married him, but it did no good, for father was killed just a little more than a month afterwards. We had a ranch, up here in the Redwater Valley, about halfway to Crater. But it went--Lew gambled and drank and--so he took me to Little Lost. I've been there for two years."

The words of pity--and more--that crowded forward for utterance, Bud knew he must not speak. So he said nothing at all.

"Lew has always held Eddie over my head," she went on pouring out her troubles to him. "There's a gang, called the Catrock Gang, and Lew is one of them. I told you Lew is the man you shot. I think Dave Truman is in with them--at any rate he shuts his eyes to whatever goes on, and gets part of the stealings, I feel sure. That's why Lew is such a favorite. You see, Eddie is one--I'm trusting you with my life, almost, when I tell you this.

"But I couldn't stand by and not lift a hand to save you. I knew they would kill you. They'd have to, because I felt that you would fight and never give up. And you are too fine a man for those beasts to murder for the money you have. I knew, the minute I saw Jeff paying you his losings with a check, and some of the others doing the same, just what would happen. Jeff is almost as bad as the Catrockers, except that he is too cowardly to come out into the open. He gave you a check; and everyone who was there knew he would hurry up to Crater and stop payment on it, if he could do it and keep out of your sight. Those cronies of his would do the same--so they paid with checks.

"And the Catrock gang knew that. They mean to get hold of you, rob and-and-kill you, and forge the endors.e.m.e.nt on the checks and let one man cash them in Crater before payment can be stopped. Indeed, the gang will see to it that Jeff stays away from Crater. Lew hinted that while they were about it they might as well clean out the bank. It wouldn't be the first time," she added bitterly.

She stopped then and asked for a match, and when Bud gave her one she lighted a candle and held it up so that she could examine the walls.

"It's a natural tunnel," she volunteered in a different tone. "Somewhere along here there is a branch that goes back into the hill and ends in a blow-hole. But we're all right so far."

She blew out the candle and urged Boise forward, edging over to the right.

"Wasn't that taking quite a chance, making a light?" Bud asked as they went on.

"It was, but not so great a chance as missing the way. Jerry didn't hear anything of them when he went to the pasture gate, and they may not come through this way at all. They may not realize at first that you have left, and even when they did they would not believe at first that you had gone to Crater. You see"--and in the darkness Bud could picture her troubled smile--"they think you are an awful fool, in some ways. The way you bet to-day was pure madness."

"It would have been, except that I knew I could win."

"They never bet like that. They always 'figure', as they call it, that the other fellow is going to play some trick on them. Half the time Jeff bets against his own horse, on the sly. They all do, unless they feel sure that their own trick is best."

"They should have done that to-day," Bud observed dryly. "But you've explained it. They thought I'm an awful fool."

Out of the darkness came Marian's voice. "It's because you're so different. They can't understand you."

Bud was not interested in his own foolishness just then. Something in her voice had thrilled him anew with a desire to help her and with the conviction that he was desperately in need of help. There was a pathetic patience in her tone when she summarized he whole affair in those last two sentences. It was as if she were telling him how her whole life was darkened because she herself was different--because they could not understand a woman so fine, so true and sweet.

"What will happen if you are missed? If you go back and discover Jerry's handkerchief on that bush, what will you do? You can't go back if they find out--" There was no need for him to finish that sentence.

"I don't know," said Marian, "what I shall do. I hadn't thought much about it."

"I haven't thought much about anything else," Bud told her straightforwardly. "If Jerry flags you, you 'd better keep going.

Couldn't you go to friends?"

"I could--if I had any. Bud, you don't understand. Eddie is the only relative I have on earth, that I know at all. He is--he's with the Catrockers and Lew dominates him completely. Lew has pushed Ed into doing things so that I must s.h.i.+eld both or neither. And Eddie's just a boy. So I've no one at all."

Bud studied this while they rode on through the defile that was more frequently a tunnel, since the succession of caves always had an outlet which Marian found. She had stopped now and dismounted, and they were leading their horses down a steep, scrambling place with the stars showing overhead.

"A blowhole," Marian informed him briefly. "We'll come into another cave, soon, and while it's safe if you know it, I'll explain now that you must walk ahead of your horse and keep your right hand always in touch with the wall until we see the stars again. There's a ledge-five feet wide in the narrowest place, if you are nervous about ledges--and if you should get off that you'd have a drop of ten feet or so. We found that the ledge makes easier travelling, because the bottom is full of rocks and nasty depressions that are noticeable only with lights."

She started off again, and Bud followed her, his gloved fingers touching the right wall, his soul humbled before the greatness of this little woman with the deep, troubled eyes. When they came out into the starlight she stopped and listened for what seemed to Bud a very long time.

"If they are coming, they are a long way behind us," she said relievedly, and remounted. "Boise knows his trail and has made good time. And your horse has proven beyond all doubt that he's a thoroughbred. I've seen horses balk at going where we have gone."

"And I've seen men who counted themselves brave as any, who wouldn't do what you are doing to-night; Jerry, for instance. I wish you'd go back.

I can't bear having you take this risk."

"I can't go back, Bud. Not if they find I've gone." Then he heard her laugh quietly. "I can't imagine now why I stayed and endured it all this while. I think I only needed the psychological moment for rebellion, and to-night the moment came. So you see you have really done me a service by getting into this sc.r.a.pe. It's the first time I have been off the ranch in a year."

"If you call that doing you a service, I'm going to ask you to let me do something also for you." Bud half smiled to himself in the darkness, thinking how diplomatic he was. "If you're found out, you'll have to keep on going, and I take it you wouldn't be particular where you went.

So I wish you 'd take charge of part of this money for me, and if you leave, go down to my mother, on the Tomahawk ranch, out from Laramie.

Anyone can tell you where it is, when you get down that way If you need any money use it. And tell mother I sent her the finest cook in the country. Mother, by the way, is a great musician, Marian. She taught me all I know of music. You'd get along just fine with mother. And she needs you, honest. She isn't very strong, yet she can't find anyone to suit, down there--"

"I might not suit, either," said Marian, her voice somewhat m.u.f.fled.

"Oh, I'm not afraid of that. And--there's a message I want to send--I promised mother I'd--"

"Oh, hus.h.!.+ You're really an awfully poor prevaricator, Bud. This is to help me, you're planning."

"Well--it's to help me that I want you to take part of the money. The gang won't hold you up, will they? And I want mother to have it. I want her to have you, too,--to help out when company comes drifting in there, sometimes fifteen or twenty strong. Especially on Sunday. Mother has to wait on them and cook for them, and--as long as you are going to cook for a bunch, you may as well do it where it will be appreciated, and where you'll be treated like a--like a lady ought to be treated."

"You're even worse--" began Marian, laughing softly, and stopped abruptly, listening, her head turned behind them. "Sh-sh-someone is coming behind us," she whispered. "We're almost through--come on, and don't talk!"

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: GUARDIAN ANGELS ARE RIDING POINT

They plunged into darkness again, rode at a half trot over smooth, hard sand, Bud trusting himself wholly to Marian and to the sagacity of the two horses who could see, he hoped, much better than he himself could.

His keen hearing had caught a faint sound from behind them--far back in the crevice-like gorge they had just quitted, he believed. For Marian's sake he stared anxiously ahead, eager for the first faint suggestion of starlight before them. It came, and he breathed freer and felt of his gun in its holster, pulling it forward an inch or two.

"This way, Bud," Marian murmured, and swung Boise to the left, against the mountain under and through which they seemed to have pa.s.sed. She led him into another small gorge whose extent he could not see, and stopped him with a hand pressed against Sunfish's shoulder.

"We'd better get down and hold our horses quiet," she cautioned. "Boise may try to whinny, and he mustn't."

They stood side by side at their horses' heads, holding the animals close. For a time there were no sounds at all save the breathing of the horses and once a repressed sigh from Marian. Bud remembered suddenly how tired she must be. At six o'clock that morning she had fed twelve men a substantial breakfast. At noon there had been dinner for several more than twelve, and supper again at six--and here she was, risking her life when she should be in bed. He felt for her free hand, found it hanging listlessly by her side and took it in his own and held it there, just as one holds the hand of a timid child. Yet Marian was not timid.

A subdued mutter of voices, the click of hoofs striking against stone, and the pursuers pa.s.sed within thirty feet of them. Boise had lifted his head to nicker a salute, but Marian's jerk on the reins stopped him.

They stood very still, not daring so much as a whisper until the sounds had receded and silence came again.

"They took the side-hill trail," whispered Marian, pus.h.i.+ng Boise backward to turn him in the narrow defile. "You'll have to get down the hill into the creek-bed and follow that until you come to the stage road. There may be others coming that way, but they will be two or three miles behind you. This tunnel trail cuts off at least five miles but we had to go slower, you see.

"Right here you can lead Sunfish down the bluff to the creek. It's all dry, and around the first bend you will see where the road crosses. Turn to the left on that and ride! This horse of yours will have to show the stuff that's in him. Get to Crater ahead of these men that took the hill trail. They'll not ride fast--they never dreamed you had come through here, but they came to cut off the distance and to head you off. With others behind, you must beat them all in or you'll be trapped between."

She had left Boise tied hastily to a bush and was walking ahead of Bud down the steep, rocky hillside to show him the easiest way amongst the boulders Halfway down, Bud caught her shoulder and stopped her.

"I'm not a kid," he said firmly. "I can make it from here alone. Not another step, young lady. If you can get back home You'll be doing enough. Take this--it's money, but I don't know how much. And watch your chance and go down to mother with that message. Birnie, of the Tomahawk outfit--you'll find out in Laramie where to go. And tell mother I'm all right, and she'll see me some day--when I've made my stake. G.o.d bless you, little woman. You're the truest, sweetest little woman in the world. There's just one more like you--that's mother. Now go back--and for G.o.d's sake he careful!"

He pressed money into her two hands, held them tightly together, kissed them both hurriedly and plunged down the hill with Sunfish slipping and sliding after him. For her safety, if not for his own, he meant to get away from there as quickly as possible.