A VOICE FROM THE GALLERY
Matters were fast coming to a head as far as the sheriff and the Cross
Bar-8 were concerned. The loss of the five men who had won the friendship
of their fellows, the reign of terror caused by the outlaw, the loss
of their cook, the devastation and the extra work had only deepened the
hatred which the members of the outfit held for The Orphan; and it went
farther than The Orphan.
Sneed was not long in learning what took place at the stage and of the
driver's loyalty to the outlaw, because Bill would talk; and the working
of his mind was the same as that of his men, for it followed the line of
least resistance. Questions of the nature of arraignments, and which
were answerable by the outfit in only one way, constantly presented
themselves in the minds of the men. They asked themselves why it was
that a man of the sheriff's proven courage, marksmanship and cleverness
should fail to get the man who so terrorized the ranch. Why was the
sheriff so apparently reluctant to take up the chase in earnest and push
it to a finish? Why was he so firm against the assistance of the ranchmen?
Why did he keep to his determination to allow no lynch law when the
evil was so great and the danger so pressing? And he was prepared to go
to great lengths to see that his orders were not disobeyed, as proven by
the scene at the corral. Why could he not have overlooked one lynching
party when property was being destroyed and lives in danger? And why had
the outrages suddenly ceased when Shields took charge of the defense of
the ranch?--there had been no molestation, not a shot had been fired,
not a cow killed. And how was it that a flower pot, which Shields had
admitted as belonging to his wife, had been placed at a point hardly two
hundred yards in front of the peace officer as he lay on guard? It was
true that it was out of line of him and the lights, but that could be
explained by events. From whom did The Orphan learn of the trap set for
him, and all of its details, even to the placing of the men, enabling him
to avoid the eager deputies and choose the position occupied by the
sheriff when he had so recklessly flaunted his contempt from a pile
of sand?
The cowboys were naturally enough warped and prejudiced because of
their blind rage and hatred, and the questions which ran so riotously
through their minds found their answers waiting for them; in fact, the
answers induced the questions, and each recurrence gave them added
weight until they ceased to be questions and became, in reality,
statements of facts. Bill had talked too much when he had told in
careful detail of the attentions shown The Orphan by the sheriff's
sister; and to minds eager for confirmation of their suspicions this was
the crowning proof of the double dealing of the sheriff. And to make
matters worse, Tex Williard, who was as unscrupulous a man as ever wore
the garb of honesty, had tried to force his attentions on Helen when
she rode for exercise. His ideas of women had been developed among
those who frequented frontier bar-rooms, and he was enraged at his
rebuff, which had been sharp and final. She actually preferred a murdering
outlaw to a hardworking cowboy! His profane oratory as to the collusion,
or at least passive sympathy between the sheriff and the outlaw found
eager ears and receptive minds awaiting the torch of initiative, and it
was not long before low-voiced consultations began to plan a drastic
course of action. Credit must be given to Sneed, because he knew only of
the natural discontent and nothing of what was in the wind. Had he
known what was brewing he would have stamped it out with no uncertain
force, for he was wise enough to realize the folly of increasing the
antagonism which already was held by Ford's Station for his ranch.
At first the conspirators had hopes of undermining Shields among the
citizens of the town, not knowing the feeling there as well as their
foreman knew it, but they were wise enough to go about it cautiously;
and the returns justified their caution, for they found the inhabitants
of Ford's Station unassailably loyal to the peace officer. To accuse
him, either directly or by suggestion, of double dealing would be to array
the two score inhabitants of the town on his side in hot and belligerent
partisanship, and this they wished to avoid by all means, for they had no
stomach for such a war as might easily follow. They then hit upon what
appeared to them to be an excellent plan, inasmuch as it was indirect and
would give the results desired; and the medium was to be the driver.
The talkative one had shown more than passing friendliness for The
Orphan, and they had his boasting words for it and he could not deny it,
for Bill was very proud of the part he had played on that memorable day,
and he took delight in recounting the conversation he had held with the
outfit at the coach--and he had a way of adding to the tartness of his
repartee in its repetition. Tex Williard reasoned from experience that it
would not appear at all strange and unusual for Bill to be called to
account for his friendliness and assistance to the outlaw and for his
contemptuous words concerning the cowboys if it was done by some member or
members of the ranch as a personal affair and without the appearance
of being sanctioned by the foreman. And through the driver he hoped to
strike at Shields, for the sheriff would not remain passive in such an
event; and once he was drawn into a brawl, hot tempers or accident
would be the plea if he should be killed. The apologies and remorse of
the sorrowful participants could be profound. And thus was cold-blooded
murder planned by the very men who reviled The Orphan because they claimed
he was a murderer, and who cried aloud for his death on that charge.
Tex was the ringleader and in his own way he was not without cunning,
and neither was he lacking in daring. He selected his assistants for the
game with cool, calculating judgment. The three he finally decided upon
were reckless and not lacking in intelligence and physical courage for
such work. After having made his selection he sounded them carefully
and finally made his plans known, going into minute rehearsal of every
phase and detail of the game with thoughtful care and studied sequence.
When he believed them to be well drilled he fixed upon the time and place
and caused word to get to Bill that he might expect trouble for his
assistance to The Orphan, and for having had a hand in sending the five
cowboys to their deaths. The news immediately reached the ears of the
sheriff, who determined to see that Bill received no injury at the hands
of the Cross Bar-8. He quietly made up his mind to be near the stage
route on the days when Bill drove through the defile of the Backbone,
and to be within call if he should be needed. If he should think it
necessary, he would even go so far as to become a regular passenger
in the coach until the trouble died down. To the masterly driving and
cool-headed courage of Bill no less than to the daring and accuracy of
The Orphan was the sheriff indebted for the lives of his sisters; and
the protection of Bill clove close to the line of duty, and not one
whit less to the line of law and order.
Bill laughed and boasted and made a joke of the thought of any danger
from the malcontents of the Cross Bar-8, and flatly refused to allow the
sheriff to ride with him. He talked volubly until the agent profanely
sent him on his journey, and he tore through the streets of the town in
the same old way. He forded the Limping Water in safety and crossed the
ten mile stretch of open plain without a sign of trouble. As he left the
water of the stream the sheriff started after him from town, intending to
be not far behind him when he entered the rough country.
When Bill plunged into the defile through the Backbone he began to grow a
little apprehensive, and he intently watched each stretch of the road as
each successive turn unfolded it to his sight. His foot was on the brakes
and he was braced to stop the rush of his team at the first glimpse of an
obstruction, or to tear past the danger if he could. One coyote yell and
one snap of the whip would send the team wild, for they remembered well.
All was nice until he neared the place where The Orphan had held him up
for a smoke, and it was there the trouble occurred. As he swung around
the sharp turn he saw four cowboys bunched squarely in the center of the
trail and at such a distance from him that to attempt to dash past them
would be to lay himself open to several shots. They had him covered, and
as he grasped the situation Tex Williard rode forward and held up his hand.
"Stop!" Tex shouted. "Get down!"
"What in thunder do you want?" Bill asked, setting the brakes and stopping
his team, wonder showing on his face.
"Yu!" came the laconic reply. "Get down!"
"What's eating you?" Bill asked in no uncertain inflection. Had Tex been
less imperative and kept the insulting tone out of his words Bill might
have had time to become afraid, but the sting made him leap over fear to
anger; and genuine anger takes small heed of fear.
Tex motioned to one of his men, who instantly leaped to the ground and
ran to the turn, where he knelt behind a rock, his rifle covering the back
trail. Then Tex returned to the driver.
"Curiosity is eating me, yu half-breed!" he cried. "GET DOWN! d----n yu,
GET DOWN!! Don't wait all day, neither, do yu hear? What th' h--l do yu
think I'm a-talkin' for!"
"Well, I'll be blamed!" ejaculated Bill, wrapping the reins about the
back of his seat. "Anybody would think you was the boss of the earth to
hear you! You ain't no road agent, you're only a fool amature with more
gall than brains! But I'll tell you right here and now that if you _are_
playing road agent, I wouldn't be in your fool boots for a cool million.
And if you are joking you are showing d----d bad taste, and don't you
forget it. You're holding up a sack of U. S. mail, and if you don't know
what that means----"
"Shut yore face! Yu talk when I ask yu to!" shouted Tex as the driver
dropped to the ground. "But since yore so unholy strong on th' palaver,
suppose yu just explains why yu are so all-fired friendly to Th' Orphant?
Suppose yu lisp why yu take such a peculiar interest in his health and
happiness. Come now, out with it--this ain't no Quaker meeting."
"Warble, birdie, warble!" jeered one of the cowboys. "Sing, yu ---- ----!"
"We're shore waitin', darlin'," jeered another. "Tune up an' get started,
Windy."
"Well, since you talks like that," cried Bill, stung to reckless fury at
the cutting contempt of the words, "you can go to h--l and find out from
your fool friends!" he shouted, beside himself with rage. "Who are you to
stick me up and ask questions? It's none of your infernal business who
I like, you hog-nosed tanks! Why didn't you bring some decent men with
you, you flat-faced skunks? Why didn't you bring Sneed! White men would
a told you just what you are if you asked them to help you in your dirty
work, wouldn't they? Even a tin-horn gambler, a crooked cheat, would
give me more show for my money than you have, you bowlegged coyotes!
Ain't you man enough to turn the trick alone, Williard? Can't you play
a lone hand in ambush, you bob-tailed flush of a bad man! You're only a
lake-mouthed, red-headed wart of a two-by-four puncher, that's what----"
Tex had been stunned by surprise at such an outburst from a man whom he
had always regarded as woefully lacking in courage. Then his face flamed
with an insane rage at the taunting insults hurled venomously at him and
he sprang to action as though he had been struck. It would have been bad
enough to hear such words from an equal, but from Bill!
"Yu cur!" he yelled as he leaped forward into the tearing sting of the
driver's whip, which had been hanging from the wrist.
"You're the fourth dog I cut to-day," Bill said, jerking it back for
another try.
Tex shivered with pain as the lash cut through his ear, as it would have
cut through paper, and screamed his words as he avoided the second blow.
"I'll show yu if I am man enough! I'll kill yu for that, d----n yu!"
As Tex threw his arms wide open to clinch, Bill leaped aside and drove
his heavy fist into the cowman's face as he passed, knocking him sidewise
against the wall of the defile; and then struggled like a madman in the
toils of two ropes. He was a Berserker now, a maniac without a hope
of life, and he screamed with rage as he tore frantically at the rough
hair ropes, wishing only to destroy, to kill with his bare hands. The blow
had not been well placed, being too high for the vital point, but it had
smashed the puncher's nose flat to his face and one eye was fast losing
its resemblance to the other. Tex staggered to his feet and returned
to the attack, striking savagely at the face of the bound man. Bill
avoided the blow by jerking his head aside and snarled like a beast
as he drove the heel of his heavy boot into his enemy's stomach. Then
everything grew black before his eyes and a roaring sound filled his
ears. The rope slackened and the men who had thrown him head-first on a
rock leaped from their horses and ran to him.
When his senses returned he found himself bound hand and foot and under a
spur of rock which projected from the bank of the cut. His face was cut
and bruised and his scalp laid open, but through the blood which dripped
from his eyebrows he vaguely saw Tex, bent double and rocking back and
forth on the ground, intoned moans coming from him with a sound like that
made by a rasp on the edge of a box.
As Bill's brain cleared he became conscious of excruciating pains in
his head, as if hammers were crashing against his skull. Glancing upward
he saw that a rope ran from his neck to the rock, over it and then to
the pommel of a saddle, and his face twitched as its meaning sifted
through his mind. Then he thought of the time The Orphan had held him
up in the defile--how unlike these men the outlaw was! If he would only
come now--what joy there would be in the flashing of his gun; what ecstasy
in the confusion, panic, rout that he would cause. He was dazed and
the throbbing, heavy, monotonous pain dulled him still more. He seemed
to be apart from his surroundings, to be an onlooker and not an actor
in the game. He wondered if that whip was his: yes, it must be . . .
certainly it was. He ought to know his own whip . . . of course it was
his. He regarded Tex curiously . . . there had been Indians, or was it
some other time? What was Tex doing there on the ground? He struggled to
think clearly, and then he knew. But the deadening pain was merciful
to him, it made him apathetic. Was he going to die? Perhaps, but what
of it? He didn't care, for then that pain wouldn't beat through him. Tex
looked funny. . . . He closed his eyes wearily and seemed to be far
away. He _was_ far away, and, oh, so tired!
Tex finally managed to gain his feet and straighten up and revealed his
face, bloody and swollen and black from the blow. His words came with a
hesitation which suggested pain, and they were mumbled between split and
swollen lips.
"Now, d----n yu!" he cried, brokenly, staggering to the helpless man
before him. "Now mebby yu'll talk! Why did yu help Th' Orphant? If yu
lie yu'll swing!"
Bill swayed and his eyes opened, and after an interval he slowly and
wearily made reply, for his senses had returned again.
"He saved my life," he said, "and I'll help--anybody for that."
"Oh, he did, did he?" jeered Tex. "An' why? That ain't his way, helpin'
strangers at his own risk. Why?"
"There was women--in the coach."
"Oh, there was, hey?" ironically remarked Tex. "Mebby he wanted 'em all
to himself, eh?"
"He's a white man, not a cur."
"He's a cub of th' devil, that's what he is!" Tex cried. "He ain't no
orphant, not by a d----d sight--th' devil's his father, an' all hell is
his mother. Now, I want an answer to this one, and I want it quick: no lie
goes. Why don't th' sheriff get busy an' camp on his trail? What interest
has th' sheriff an' Th' Orphant in each other? Come on, out with it!"
"I don't know," replied Bill, wishing that the sheriff was at hand to make
an appropriate answer. "Ask him, why don't you?" he asked, stretching his
neck to ease the hairy, bristling clutch of the lariat.
"Oh, yu don't, an' yore still cheeky, eh?" cried the inquisitor. "An' yu
want yore d----d neck stretched, do yu?"
He motioned to the man on the horse at the end of the rope and Bill
straightened up and daylight showed under his heels. As he struggled there
was an interruption from the man who covered the back trail: "'Nds up!"
he cried. "Don't move!"
Tex signalled for Bill to be let down and ran backward to the opposite
side of the defile until he could see around the turn; and he discovered
the sheriff, who sat quietly under the gun of the cowboy.
"Stop! Don't yu even wiggle!" cried the guard. "I'll blow yore head off
at the first move!" he added in warning; and for once in his eventful life
Shields knew that he was absolutely helpless, for the time, at least.
His hands were clasped over his sombrero, for it would be tiresome to hold
them out, and he felt that he might have need of fresh, quick muscles
before long.
"All right, all right, bub," he responded in perfect good nature,
apparently. "Don't get nervous and let that gun go off, for it's shore
your turn now," he added, smiling his war smile. "Any particular thing you
want, or are you just practicing a short cut to eternity?"
"I want yu to stay just like yu are!" snapped the man with the drop. "And
yu keep yore mouth shut, too!"
"Since it's your last wish, why, it goes," replied the sheriff, ignoring
the command for silence. "Got any message for your folks? Any keep-sakes
you'd like to have sent back East? Give me the address of your folks and
I'll send them your last words, too."
"That's enough, Sheriff," said Tex, moving cautiously forward behind his
leveled Colt. "I'll do all th' talkin' that's necessary; yu just listen
for a while."
"Well, well," replied the sheriff, grinning and simulating surprise. "If
here ain't Tex Williard, too! What's your pet psalm, sonny? Good God,
what a face!"
"What's that got to do with this?" asked Tex, intently watching for war.
"Oh, nothing, nothing at all," replied the sheriff. "But, Lord, that
cayuse of yours can shore kick! Was you tickling it? They do go off like
that some times. Any of your nose coming out the back of your head yet?
But to reply to your touching inquiry, I'll say that the psalm might
work in handy after while, that's all. If you'll only tell me, I'll see
that it is sung over your grave. But, honest, how did you get that face?"
"That'll just about do for yu!" cried the cowboy, angrily. "An' sit still,
yu!" he added.
"Say, bub," confidentially said Shields, "my stomach itches like blazes.
Can't I scratch it, just once?"
"No! Think I'm a fool!" yelled Tex, his finger tightening on the trigger.
"Yu sit still, d----n yu!"
"Well, I only wanted to see just how much of a fool you really are,"
grinned the sheriff exasperatingly. "Judging from your present position
I must say that I thought you didn't have any sense at all, but now I
reckon you've got a few brains after all. But suppose you scratch it
for me, hey? Just rub it easy like with your left paw."
Tex swore luridly, too tense to realize what a fool the sheriff was making
of him. He could think of only one thing at a time, and he was thinking
very hard about the sheriff's hands.
"Tut, tut, don't take it so hard," jeered the sheriff, smiling pleasantly.
"Now that I know that you are some rational, suppose you tell me the joke?
What's the secret? Who skinned his shin? What in thunder is all this
artillery saluting me for?"
"Since yu want to know, I'll tell yu, all right," replied Tex. "Why are yu
an' Th' Orphant so d----d thick? Don't be all day about it?"
"You d----d excuse!" responded the sheriff. "You mere accident! As the
poet said, it's none of your business! Catch that?"
"Yes, I caught it," retorted Tex. "I reckon we needs a new sheriff, an'
d----d soon, too," he added venomously.
"Well, people don't always get what they need," replied Shields easily.
"If they did, you would get yours right now, and good and hard, too," he
explained, making ready to put up the hardest fight of his life. Three
men had him covered, and he knew they would all shoot if he made a move,
for they had placed themselves in a desperate situation and could not back
out now. He knew that never before had he been in so tight a hole, but he
trusted to luck and his own quickness to crawl out with a whole skin. If
he was killed, he would have company across the Great Divide; of that
he was certain.
"I reckon I'll take yore guns for a while, just to be doin' somethin',"
Tex said as he advanced a step. "Mebby that itch will go away then."
"I reckon you'll be a d----n sight wiser if you don't force matters, for
they are purty well forced now," Shields replied. "No man gets my guns'
butts first without getting all mussed up inside. You'll certainly be
doing something if you try it."
"Well, then," compromised Tex, "answer my question!"
"And no man gets an answer to a question like that in words," the sheriff
continued, as if there had been no interruption. "But I'll give you and
your white-faced bums a chance for your lives--and I don't wonder The
Orphan shot up Jimmy, neither. Put up your wobbling guns and get out of
this country as fast as God will let you! If you ever come back I'll fill
you plumb full of lead! It's your move, Lovely Face, and the quicker you
do it the better it'll be for your health."
[Illustration: "'The less you count the longer you'll live!' said Shields"
(See page 192.)]
"Oh, I don't know about that," replied Tex with a leer and swagger. "To a
man up a tree it looks like yu are up agin a buzz saw this time."
"To a man on the ground it looks like your tin buzz saw has hit the
hardest knot it ever struck, and you'll feel the jar purty soon, too,"
Shields countered, his hazel eyes beginning to grow red. "You put up that
gun and scoot before I blow your d----d head off!"
"I'll give yu 'til I counts three to answer my question," Tex said,
ignoring the advice. "One!"
"The less you count the longer you'll live," said Shields, gripping his
horse with his knees in readiness to jump it sideways.
"Two!"
"Afternoon, gents," said a pleasant voice up above them, and all jumped
and looked up. As they did so Shields jerked his guns loose and laughed
softly: "That itch has plumb gone away," he said. "It's a new deal," he
exulted, his face wreathed in grins.