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THE ORPHAN
[Illustration: "She unfastened the gold breast-pin which she wore at her
throat and pinned the bandage into place." (_See page 95._)]
THE ORPHAN
By Clarence E. Mulford
Author of "Bar-20"
With Four Illustrations in Colors
By ALLEN TRUE
A. L. BURT COMPANY
PUBLISHERS NEW YORK
Copyright, 1908, by
THE OUTING PUBLISHING COMPANY
Entered at Stationer's Hall, London, England
All Rights Reserved
THE ORPHAN
AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED TO
MY MOTHER
CONTENTS
I THE SHERIFF RIDES TO WAR 3
II CONCERNING AN ARROW 14
III THE SHERIFF FINDS THE ORPHAN 33
IV THE SECOND OFFENSE 45
V BILL JUSTIFIES HIS CREATION 60
VI THE ORPHAN OBEYS AN IMPULSE 80
VII THE OUTFIT HUNTS FOR STRAYS 104
VIII "A TIMBER WOLF IN HIS OWN COUNTRY" 125
IX THE CROSS BAR-8 LOSES SLEEP 131
X THE ORPHAN PAYS TWO CALLS 147
XI A VOICE FROM THE GALLERY 173
XII A NEW DEAL ALL AROUND 193
XIII THE STAR C GIVES WELCOME 210
XIV THE SHERIFF STATES SOME FACTS 240
XV AN UNDERSTANDING 266
XVI THE FLYING-MARE 284
XVII THE FEAST 299
XVIII PREPARATION 325
XIX THE ORPHAN GOES TO THE A-Y 340
XX BILL ATTENDS THE PICNIC 352
XXI THE ANNOUNCEMENT 368
XXII TEX WILLIARD'S MISTAKE 375
XXIII THE GREAT HAPPINESS 392
ILLUSTRATIONS
"She unfastened the gold breast-pin which she
wore at her throat and pinned the bandage into
place" _Frontispiece_
"'The less you count the longer you'll live!'
said Shields" 192
The Orphan gives Blake Shields' note 214
"The Orphan stepped back a pace and dropped the
Colt into its holster" 390
THE ORPHAN
CHAPTER I
THE SHERIFF RIDES TO WAR
Many men swore that The Orphan was bad, and many swore profanely and with
wonderful command of epithets because he was bad, but for obvious reasons
that was as far as the majority went to show their displeasure. Those of
the minority who had gone farther and who had shown their hatred by rash
actions only proved their foolishness; for they had indeed gone far and
would return no more.
Tradition had it that The Orphan was a mongrel, a half-breed, asserting
that his mother had been a Sioux with negro blood in her veins. It also
asserted that his father had been nominated and unanimously elected, by a
posse, to an elevated position under a tree; and further, that The Orphan
himself had been born during a cloudburst at midnight on the thirteenth
of the month. The latter was from the Mexicans, who found great delight in
making such terrifying combinations of ill luck.
But tradition was strongly questioned as to his mother, for how could
the son of such a mother be possessed of the dare-devil courage and grit
which had made his name a synonym of terror? This contention was well
stated and is borne out, for it can be authoritatively said that the
mother of The Orphan was white, and had neither Indian nor negro blood
in her veins, but on the contrary came from a family of gentlefolk.
Thus I start aright by refuting slander. The Orphan was white, his
profanity blue, and his anger red, and having started aright, I will
continue with the events which led to the discovery of his innate better
qualities and their final ascendency over the savagely hard nature
which circumstances had bred in him. These events began on the day
when James Shields, for reasons hereinafter set forth, became actively
interested in his career.
Shields, by common consent Keeper of the Law over a territory as large as
the State of New Jersey and whom out of courtesy I will call sheriff,
was no coward, and neither was he a fool; and when word came to him
that The Orphan had made a mess of two sheep herders near the U Bend of
the Limping Water Creek, he did not forthwith pace the street and
inform the citizens of Ford's Station that he was about to start on a
journey which had for its object the congratulation of The Orphan at
long range. Upon occasions his taciturnity became oppressive, especially
when grave dangers or tense situations demanded concentration of thought.
The more he thought the less he talked, the one notable exception
being when stirred to righteous anger by personal insults, in which case
his words flowed smoothly along one channel while his thoughts gripped a
single idea. To his acquaintances he varied as the mood directed, often
saying practically nothing for hours, and at other times discoursing
volubly. One thing, a word of his, had become proverbial--when Shields
said "Hell!" he was in no mood for pleasantries, and the third repetition
of the word meant red, red anger. He was a man of strong personality,
who loved his friends in staunch, unswerving loyalty; and he tolerated
his enemies until the last ditch had been reached.
He, like The Orphan, was essentially a humorist in the finest definition
of the term, inasmuch as he could find humor in the worst possible
situations. He was even now forcibly struck with the humor of his
contemplated ride, for The Orphan would be so very much surprised to see
him. He could picture the expression of weary toleration which would
grace the outlaw's face over the sights, and he chuckled inwardly as
he thought of how The Orphan would swear. He did his shooting as an
unavoidable duty, a business, a stern necessity; and he took great
delight in its accuracy. When he shot at a man he did it with becoming
gravity, but nevertheless he radiated pride and cheerfulness when he hit
the man's nose or eye or Adam's apple at a hundred yards. All the time
he knew that the man ought to die, that it was a case of necessity, and
this explains why he was so pleased about the eye or nose or Adam's apple.
With The Orphan popular opinion said it was far different; that his humor
was ghastly, malevolent, murderous; that he shot to kill with the
same gravity, but that it was that of icy determination, chilling
ferocity. He was said to be methodical in the taking of innocent life,
even more accurate than the sheriff, wily and shrewd as the leader of
a wolf-pack, and equally relentless. The Orphan was looked upon as an
abnormal development of the idea of destruction; the sheriff, a corrective
force, and almost as strong as the evil he would endeavor to overcome.
The two came as near to the scientists' little joke of the irresistible
force meeting the immovable body as can be found in human agents.
So Shields, upon hearing of The Orphan's latest manifestation of humor,
appreciated the joke to the fullest extent and made up his mind to play
a similar one on the frisky outlaw. He could not help but sympathize
with The Orphan, because every man knew what pests the sheepmen were,
and Shields, at one time a cowman, was naturally prejudiced against
sheep. He was exceedingly weary of having to guard herds of bleating
grass-shavers which so often passed across his domain, and he regarded
the sheep-raising industry as an unnecessary evil which should by all
rights be deported. But he could not excuse The Orphan's crude and savage
idea of deportation. The sheriff was really kind-hearted, and he became
angry when he thought of the outlaw driving two thousand sheep over
the steep bank of the Limping Water to a pitiful death by drowning; The
Orphan should have been satisfied in messing up the anatomy of the
herders. He did not like a glutton, and he would tell the outlaw so
in his own way.
He walked briskly through his yard and called to his wife as he passed
the house, telling her that he was going to be gone for an indefinite
period, not revealing the object of his journey, as he did not wish
to worry her. Accustomed as she was to have him face danger, she had a
loving wife's fear for his safety, and lost many hours' sleep while he
was away. He took his rifle from where it leaned against the porch and
continued on his way to the small corral in the rear of the yard, where
two horses whisked flies and sought the shade. Leading one of them
outside, he deftly slung a saddle to its back, secured the cinches
and put on a light bridle. Dropping the Winchester into its saddle
holster, he mounted and fought the animal for a few minutes just as he
always had to fight it. He spun the cylinders of his .45 Colts and ran his
fingers along the under side of his belt for assurance as to ammunition.
Seeing that the black leather case which was slung from the pommel of
the saddle contained his field glass and that his canteen was full of
water, he rode to the back door of his house, where his wife gave him
a bag of food. Promising her that he would take good care of himself
and to return as speedily as possible, he cantered through the gate
and down the street toward the "Oasis," the door of which was always open.
Two dogs were stretched out in the doorway, lazily snapping at flies.
As the sheriff drew rein he heard snores which wheezed from the barroom.
"Say, Dan!" he cried loudly. "Dan!"
"Shout it out, Sheriff," came the response from within the darkened room,
and the bartender appeared at the door.
"If anybody wants me, they may find me at Brent's; I'm going out that
way," the sheriff said, as he loosened the reins. "Bite, d------n you,"
he growled at his horse.
"All right, Jim," sleepily replied the bartender, watching the peace
officer as he cantered briskly down the street. He yawned, stretched
and returned to his chair, there to doze lightly as long as he might.
Shields usually left word at the Oasis as to where he might be found in
case he should be badly needed, but in this instance he had left word
where he could not be found if needed. He cantered out of the town over
the trail which led to Brent's ranch and held to it until he had put
great enough distance behind to assure him that he was out of sight of any
curious citizen of Ford's Station. Then he wheeled abruptly as he reached
the bottom of an arroyo and swung sharply to the northeast at a right
angle to his former course and pushed his mount at a lope around the
chaparrals and cacti, all the time riding more to the east and in the
direction of the U Bend of the Limping Water. He frowned slightly and
grumbled as he estimated that The Orphan would have nearly three hours'
start of him by the time he reached his objective, which meant a long
chase in the pursuit of such a man.
To a tenderfoot the heat would have been very oppressive, even dangerous,
but the sheriff thought it an ideal temperature for hunting. He smiled
pleasantly at his surroundings and was pleased by the playful vim of
his belligerent pinto, whose actions were not in the least intended to
be playful. When the animal suddenly turned its head and nipped hard and
quick at the sheriff's legs, getting a mouthful of nasty leather and
seasoned ash for its reward, he gleefully kicked the pony in the eye
when it let go, and then rowelled a streak of perforations in its ugly
hide with his spurs as an encouragement. The ensuing bucking was joy
to his heart, and he feared that he might eventually grow to like the
animal.
When he arrived at the U Bend he put in half an hour burying the human
butts of The Orphan's joke, for the perpetrator liked to leave his
trophies where they could be seen and appreciated. Shields looked sadly
at the dead sheep, said "Hell" twice and forded the stream, picked up the
outlaw's trail on the further side and cantered along it. The trail
was very plain to him, straight as a chalk line, and it led toward
the northeast, which suited the sheriff, because there was a goodly
sized water hole twenty miles further on in that direction. Perhaps he
would find The Orphan fortified there, for it would be just like that
person to monopolize the only drinking water within twenty miles and
force his humorous adversary to either take the hole or go back to the
Limping Water for a drink. Anyway, The Orphan would get awfully soiled
wallowing about in the mud and water, and he would not hurt the water
much unless he lacked the decency to bleed on the bank. Having decided
to take the hole in preference to riding back to the creek, the sheriff
immediately dismissed that phase of the game from his mind and fell to
musing about the rumors which had persistently reiterated that the
Apaches were out.
Practical joking with The Orphan and interfering with the traveling of
Apache war parties were much the same in results, so the sheriff made
up his mind to attend to the lesser matter, if need be, after he had
quieted the man he was following. Everybody knew that Apaches were very
bad, but that The Orphan was worse; and, besides, the latter would be
laughing derisively about that matter concerning a drink. The sheriff
grinned and rode happily forward, taking pains, however, to circle
around all chaparrals and covers of every nature, for he did not know but
that his playful enemy might have tired of riding before the water
hole had been reached and decided to camp out under cover. While the
sheriff was unafraid, he had befitting respect for the quality of The
Orphan's marksmanship, which was reputed as being above reproach; and he
was not expected to determine offhand whether the outlaw was above lying
in ambush. So he used his field glass constantly in sweeping covers and
rode forward toward the water hole.