A “TAME” OUTLAW
When the lad called Tom calmly remarked, “I am that outlaw,”
Margaret, who had supposed an outlaw to be a villain, such as she
had seen in the moving pictures, did not know how to reply, but
Virginia, used to the ways of the West, held out her hand to the lad
and said with sweet sincerity, “Tom, I believe that you are either
innocent, or that you hastily committed some act which you now
deeply regret.”
“Thank you for your confidence,” the lad replied.
The eastern girl found it hard to convince herself that she was
awake. Could it be that she, brought up in the most conservative
manner, was really breakfasting in a log hut on a mountain peak with
an outlaw? She glanced furtively at the lad and, noting a kindly
expression in his face, she decided that he must be a tame outlaw
and one of whom she need not be afraid.
What an exciting letter she would be able to write to Babs, and how
that girl, who had always thirsted for adventure, would envy her.
Suddenly Tom leaped to his feet and listened intently. Virginia
followed him as he went with long strides toward the open door.
“Two men are coming up the trail,” he reported, “but they are not
the ones we so recently dismissed.”
Virginia sprang forward with a cry of joy. “Oh, it is brother
Malcolm,” she exclaimed. When the young man in the lead had
dismounted, he stared in uncomprehending amazement at the two girls
and the strange lad.
“Virginia! Margaret! What does this mean?” he asked. He sensed at
once that something very unusual had happened.
“Rusty and Slim were away,” Virginia explained, “and so we girls had
to come, and oh, brother, brother, we have been so frightened, but
this brave lad has been our protector.”
When the whole story had been told, Malcolm held out his hand. “You
say that you are an outlaw. As you know it is the custom of the
desert to ask no questions, but, Tom, you are not an outlaw from our
home. From this day on, for as long as you wish to remain, I engage
your services. Will you accept?”
“I do and thank you. I sincerely hope that you will find me worthy
of the trust.”
“I know we will,” Malcolm declared heartily, “and, to complete your
name cow-boy fashion we will call you Trusty Tom.”
An hour after the return of Malcolm and Pat Mahoy, Virginia
approached her brother, saying, “Do you think it would be safe now
for Margaret and me to return to the ranch? We are both very weary
and believe that we could rest better at home.”
Malcolm glanced up from the rustic table where he had been so busily
figuring that the time had passed unnoticed.
“I had planned returning with you,” he said thoughtfully, “but I
would rather remain here a few hours longer. Where is Trusty Tom? I
will ask him to accompany you home.”
“He is with Pat Mahoy,” Virginia began, when Margaret, from the
doorway said, “Here he is now.” Then she called to the approaching
lad, “Tom, Malcolm wishes to speak to you.” The boy at the table
looked up with a welcoming smile. “If you believe that it would be
safe for the girls to return home, Tom, I wish you would accompany
them,” he said.
“Indeed, I will gladly,” the other lad replied, “and if need be, I
will protect them with my life.”
Half an hour later the three horses left the canyon trail and
started across the gleaming desert.
“I’m glad to get away from the mountains,” Margaret declared, “for
out here on the open desert, we can see whoever is coming and not be
surprised by friend or foe.”
“Except in one place,” Virginia added, “and that is where the trail
crosses the creek bottom. The banks are so high, a whole regiment
could be hiding down there and we wouldn’t know it until we were
quite upon them, but I’m not anticipating trouble, are you, Tom?”
“No,” the lad replied, “not for you girls,” he added. “Surely no one
on the desert would wish to harm you.”
Virginia glanced up quickly and wondered if he were fearful that
someone might be watching for him. How she did wish that she could
ask him to tell her all about it, but she knew that on the desert no
one asked a stranger his name or destination.
An hour later, as they were approaching the spot where the trail
descended into the rocky creek bottom, Tom, who was in the lead,
whirled in his saddle and lifted a warning hand.
“Stay here,” he said softly, “while I ride ahead that I may be sure
that it is safe for you to descend the creek trail.”
The girls did as he bade them, and while the lad rode forward,
Margaret asked fearfully: “What aroused Tom’s suspicions, do you
suppose?”
“Perhaps he just wishes to be cautious,” Virginia replied, but had
Margaret been able to see her friend’s face at that moment, she
would have known that her words were not expressing her true
thought, for the western girl had also seen the something that had
alarmed the lad and that something was a face peering above the bank
close to the mesquite bush. It, however, had quickly disappeared
when Tom started alone toward the creek trail.
Virginia delayed but one moment, and then touching Comrade with her
quirt, she was soon riding at the boy’s side.
“Tom,” she said in a low voice, “I also saw that face. Do you think
it is the man with whom you were last night? Is he lying in wait for
us?”
“I think not,” Trusty Tom declared. “I believe whoever is in hiding
is there for some other reason.”
Margaret, not wishing to be left behind, had urged Star to a gallop
and rode close to Virginia. In another moment they would be able to
see down the slope of the creek trail, but, before they were near
enough to begin the descent horsemen appeared, coming up, and with a
cry of relief, Virginia urged Comrade ahead of the others as she
exclaimed to the man in the lead, “Oh, Mr. Rizor, it is only you,
isn’t it? We girls have such active imaginations today.” Then,
turning to Margaret, she added, “Megsy, this is the sheriff from
Douglas. Mr. Rizor, these are my friends, Margaret Selover and Tom,
who are from the East.”
Virginia had been thinking fast from the moment she first saw the
sheriff, and yet, from the self-possessed way in which she talked
none could have surmised that she was truly concerned. Her first
thought had been, “Tom is a self-confessed outlaw. If the sheriff
and his men are looking for him I must try to protect him as he
protected us.”
“My wife told me you had a girl friend stayin’ with you from the
East, Miss Virginia,” Mr. Rizor was saying, “but she didn’t mention
a boy.”
As the sheriff spoke, he gazed keenly at the lad whose expression,
Virginia was glad to note, did not express guilt.
“Are you looking for someone who has been breaking the law, Mr.
Rizor?” the western girl asked, anxious to attract those penetrating
grey eyes from Tom.
“Yes, that’s who we’re after,” the sheriff replied. “Two nights ago,
the Number Six Limited was held up in Rattlesnake Canyon and the
mail car was robbed. The track walker reported that he had seen two
men and a lad of about eighteen, lurking around there an hour before
the limited was due, and he thinks he could recognize any one of
them if he could see them again.”
At that moment one of the men uttered an exclamation and pointed
toward the south, where, faint and far through powerful glasses he
saw two horsemen making for the Mexican border.
The sheriff took the glasses and looked through them intently for a
long moment.
“See you again,” he called over his shoulder, as, with his men, he
started in quick pursuit, and Virginia with a sinking heart, noticed
that the steel grey eyes looked directly at Tom as though the words
were meant especially for him.
When the sheriff and his men were gone, the three young people rode
silently down the dry creek trail and up on the other side.
Tom was the first to speak.
“It was mighty good of you, Miss Virginia, to protect me the way you
did,” he said, earnestly. “I am afraid however, that you believe me
to be one of the three who held up the mail train, but indeed, it is
not so. I was in Rattlesnake Canyon when the two men came along. I
didn’t have a bite to eat and they shared with me. I told them that
I was planning to walk the tracks until I reached Douglas, and that
there I meant to obtain work if I could. The man, with whom you saw
me later, assured me that he could give me remunerative employment
if I would wait for them over at Second Peak. I did not at the time
inquire the nature of the employment nor, did I know, until I heard
the sheriff telling about it, that they had robbed the mail train.
The next day I met the two men at the spot upon which we had agreed,
and they told me what they wished me to do. I refused, saying that I
did not care to do crooked work. I hope that you will believe me,
for what I have told you is the truth.”
“I do indeed believe you,” Virginia exclaimed, “and if need be, we
will tell your story to Mr. Rizor. Good! Here is dear old V. M. I’m
glad to be home, aren’t you, Megsy? I feel as though we had been
away a year. Tom, there is the bunkhouse yonder, I think Slim and
Rusty Pete must be there for their ponies are in the corral. Tell
them that you are our new cow-boy. They’ll like you and I’m sure
that you will like them.”
When the girls had dismounted at the wide front veranda, and Tom had
led their ponies back to the corral, they entered the house and
Margaret sank down in a big, comfortable chair as she said with a
sigh of contentment. “Well, now I am beginning to feel real once
more. Honestly, Virg, I haven’t been a bit sure but that I might
wake up and find either that I was a character in a Zane Grey story
or that it was a dream and a nightmare at that.”
“Oh! Here’s the mail pouch!” Virginia exclaimed gleefully. “Someone
has been to town.”
“I do hope that there is a letter from Babs,” Margaret said.
“I am so eager to know if she has learned more, as yet, about her
lost brother, Peyton.”