The Best Western Novels of William MacLeod Raine. William MacLeod Raine
Читать онлайн книгу.
less than y'u think. Their leader has not anywhere nearly the absolute power he had a few months ago. They would hardly dare do violence to a peace envoy.”
“Your cousin would. I don't believe he has any scruples.”
“We shall keep an eye on him. Both of us will not sleep at the same time. Y'u may depend on me to bring your foreman safely back to y'u,” he smiled.
“Oh, my foreman!”
“And your foreman's friend,” he added. “I have the best of reasons for wanting to return alive. I think y'u know them. They have to do with y'u, Miss Helen.”
It had come at last, but, womanlike, she evaded the issue her heart had sought. “Yes, I know. You think it would not be fair to throw away your life in this foolish manner after I have saved it for you—how many times was it you said?” The blue eyes lifted with deceptive frankness to the gray ones.
“No, that isn't my reason. I have a better one than that. I love y'u, girl, more than anything in this world.”
“And so you try to prove it to me by running into a trap set for you to take your life. That's a selfish kind of love, isn't it? Or it would be if I loved you.”
“Do y'u love me, Helen?”
“Why should I tell you, since you don't love me enough to give up this quixotic madness?”
“Don't y'u see, dear, I can't give it up?”
“I see you won't. You care more for your pride than for me.”
“No, it isn't that. I've got to go. It isn't that I want to leave y'u, God knows. But I've given my word, and I must keep it. Do y'u want me to be a quitter, and y'u so game yourself? Do y'u want it to go all over this cattle country that I gave my word and took it back because I lost my nerve?”
“The boy that takes a dare isn't a hero, is he! There's a higher courage that refuses to be drawn into such foolishness, that doesn't give way to the jeers of the empty headed.”
“I don't think that is a parallel case. I'm sorry, we can't see this alike, but I've got to go ahead the way that seems to me right.”
“You're going to leave me, then, to go with that man?”
“Yes, if that's the way y'u have to put it.” He looked at her sorrowfully, and added gently: “I thought you would see it. I thought sure you would.”
But she could not bear that he should leave her so, and she cried out after him. “Oh, I see it. I know you must go; but I can't bear it.” Her head buried itself in his coat. “It isn't right—it isn't a—a square deal that you should go away now, the very minute you belong to me.”
A happy smile shone in his eyes. “I belong to you, do I? That's good hearing, girl o' mine.” His arm went round her and he stroked the black head softly. “I'll not be gone long, dear. Don't y'u worry about me. I'll be back with y'u soon; just as soon as I have finished this piece of work I have to do.”
“But if you should get—if anything should happen to you?”
“Nothing is going to happen to me. There is a special providence looks after lovers, y'u know.”
“Be careful, Ned, of yourself. For my sake, dear.”
“I'll dry my socks every time I get my feet wet for fear of taking cold,” he laughed.
“But you will, won't you?”
“I'll be very careful, Helen,” he promised more gravely.
Even then she could hardly let him go, clinging to him with a reluctance to separate that was a new experience to her independent, vigorous youth. In the end he unloosened her arm, kissed her once, and hurried out of the room. In the hallway he met McWilliams, also hurryin out from a tearful farewell on the part of Nora.
Bannister, the outlaw, already mounted, was waiting for them. “Y'u did get through at last,” he drawled insolently. “Well, if y'u'll kindly give orders to your seven-foot dwarf to point the Winchester another way I'll collect my men an we'll be moving.”
For, though the outlaw had left his men in command of the ranch when he went into the house, he found the situation reversed on his return. With the arrival of reinforcements, in the persons of McWilliams and his friend, it had been the turn of the raiders to turn over their weapons.
“All right, Denver,” nodded the foreman.
The outlaw chief whistled for his men, and with their guests they rode into the silent, desert night.
Chapter 22.
Exit the “King”
They bedded that night under the great vault-roof where twinkle a million stars.
There were three of the outlaw's men with him, and both Mcwilliams and his friend noticed that they slept a little apart from their chief. There were other indications among the rustlers of a camp divided against itself. Bannister's orders to them he contrived to make an insult, and their obedience was as surly as possible compatible with safety. For all of the men knew that he would not hesitate to shoot them down in one of his violent rages should they anger him sufficiently.
Throughout the night there was no time that at least two men were not awake in the camp. The foreman and the sheepman took turns keeping vigil; and on the other side of the fire sat one of the rustlers in silent watchfulness. To the man opposite him each of the sentinels were outposts of the enemy, but they fraternized after the manner of army sentries, exchanging tobacco and occasional casual conversation.
The foreman took the first turn, and opposite him sat a one-eyed old scoundrel who had rustle calves from big outfits ever since Wyoming was a territory and long before. Chalkeye Dave, he was called, and sometimes merely Chalkeye. What his real name was no man knew. Nor was his past a subject for conversation in his presence. It was known that he had been in the Nevada penitentiary, and that he had killed a man in Arizona, but these details of an active life were rarely resurrected. For Chalkeye was deadly on the shoot, and was ready for it at the drop of the hat, though he had his good points too. One of these was a remarkable fondness for another member of the party, a mere lad, called by his companions Hughie. Generally surly and morose, to such a degree that even his chief was careful to humor him as a rule, when with Hughie all the softer elements of his character came to the surface. In his rough way he was ever humorous and genial.
Jim McWilliams found him neither, however. He declined to engage in conversation, accepted a proffer of tobacco with a silent, hostile grunt and relapsed into a long silence that lasted till his shift was ended.
“Hate to have y'u leave, old man. Y'u're so darned good company I'll ce'tainly pine for you,” the foreman suggested, with sarcasm, when the old man rolled up in his blankets preparatory to falling asleep immediately.
Chalkeye's successor was a blatant youth much impressed with his own importance. He was both foul-mouthed and foul-minded, so that Jim was constrained to interrupt his evil boastings by pretending to fall asleep.
It was nearly two o'clock when the foreman aroused his friend to take his turn. Shortly after this the lad Hughie relieved the bragging, would-be bad man.
Hughie was a flaxen-haired, rather good-looking boy of nineteen. In his small, wistful face was not a line of wickedness, though it was plain that he was weak. He seemed so unfit for the life he was leading that the sheepman's interest was aroused. For on the frontier it takes a strong, competent miscreant to be a bad man and survive. Ineffectives and weaklings are quickly weeded out to their graves or the penitentiaries.
The boy was manifestly under great fear of his chief, but the curly haired young Hermes who kept watch with him had a very winning smile and a charming manner when he cared to exert it. Almost in spite of himself the youngster