THREATENINGS
The offer of reward for the rustlers operating in Rainbow Hill Valley
was without the desired effect. It was worse. The men against whom it
was directed received it with deliberate but secretly expressed
contempt. Nor did Chance serve the masters of the Obar, as four years
before She had served Dug McFarlane.
Nor was the failure due to lack of effort. Bud left no stone unturned.
And Jeff--well, Jeff did all a man could. The hills were scoured, and
the deeps and hidden hollows of the greater foothills. The notices of
reward were sent broadcast, even penetrating to the Orrville country.
They were set up as Jeff had promised, on tree trunks in the remoter
hills where any chance eye might discover them. Where undoubtedly the
men who constituted the gang must sooner or later discover them.
The only response was a continuation of the raids.
But a distinct change had taken place in the method of these. Whereas,
originally, they had been directed against not only the Obar Ranch, but
wherever opportunity offered in the district, they now fastened their
vampire clutches upon the Obar only, and, finally, on only one section
of its territory: the land which belonged to Jeff's side of the
partnership.
So marked was this that it could not be missed.
The partners were out at a distant station where they had been urgently
summoned. A young "hand" had been wounded, a nasty flesh wound in the
arm. He had been bringing in a small bunch of steers which had strayed
to a distant hollow in the hills. It had been overnight. He was held
up, and shot by three outlaws, and his cattle run off.
It was Bud who voiced the thought of both partners immediately after a
close interrogation of the injured man.
"Looks like some low-bred son-of-a-hobo owes you a reckonin' he's
yearnin' to git quit of, Jeff," he said, the moment they were alone.
"They're workin' this way all the time. They ain't so much as smelt
around the old 'T.T.' territory in days. D'you make it that way?"
Jeff nodded.
"Sure."
But he made no attempt to throw enlightenment.
"Guess you signed the reward."
Bud watched the shadowed serious face of his friend.
"Maybe it's that." There was something like indifference in the
younger man's manner.
Perhaps it was this manner which stirred Bud's impatience and drove him
to resentment.
"Say," he cried, in fiercely vibrant tones, "d'you know what it is I
got in my head? It's the 'hands' on our range. Sure. Ther's some
lousy guy on the Obar working in with the gang. Cowpunchers are a
mongrel lot anyway. Ther' ain't one but 'ud souse the sacrament wine
ef the passon wa'an't lookin' on. I guess we'll need to chase up the
penitentiary re-cord of every blamed thief on our pay-roll. Maybe the
cinch we're lookin' fer lies that way."
"It's curious."
"Curious? Gee, it's rotten!"
The old man's patience completely gave way.
"See right here, Jeff. I ain't rattled. Not a thing. But ther's got
to be some guts put into this thing, an' you an' me's got to find 'em.
See? I'm sick to death. Right here an' now I tell you ther's goin' to
be a rotten piece of trouble around this lay-out, an' I'm goin' to be
in it--right up to my back teeth."
It was perhaps the first time Bud had displayed impatience with the man
who had always been the leading spirit of their enterprise. The truth
was, something seemed to have gone out of Jeff. He neglected nothing.
He spared himself no pains. His physical efforts seemed even to have
become greater as the days passed. Frequently, now, night as well as
day found him in the saddle watching over their interests. He had
become a sort of restless spirit urging forward the work, and watching,
watching with the lynx eyes dreaded so much by the men who served him.
But for all that something had certainly gone out of him, and Bud knew
and feared its going.
If Bud knew and feared the change, he also knew the cause of it.
Neither he nor Nan were blind to the drama silently working out in the
other household. It was bitterly plain and almost heart-breaking to
the onlookers. The same roof sheltered husband and wife. But no
unnecessary word was spoken between them. Their meals were taken
apart. They were as completely and coldly separate as though they
occupied opposite poles. And the girl who recognized these things, and
the man who watched them, only wondered how long it must be before the
final disaster came upon them.
Jeff's moods had become extraordinarily variable. There were moments
when his moroseness became threatening. The canker at his heart was
communicating itself to his whole outlook, and herein lay the failure
in his work.
It was the realization of all this which stirred Bud's impatience. He
knew that unless a radical change was quickly brought about, the
vaunted Obar had certainly reached and probably passed its zenith.
Finally, he opened his heart to the sure sympathy of Nan. He had
purposely taken her with him on a boundary inspection amongst the
foothills. They were riding through a silent hollow where quiet seemed
to lie on the top of everything. Even their horses' hoofs failed to
make an impression upon it. Peace was crowding the woodland slopes, a
peace profound and unbreakable.
"The Obar's struck a mighty bad patch, Nan," he said abruptly. "Ef
things kep hittin' their present gait, why, I don't jest see wher'
we're to strike bottom. The pinch ain't yet, but you can't never kick
out a prop without shakin' the whole darned buildin' mighty bad. An'
that's how the Obar's fixed. Ther's a mighty big punch gone plumb out
o' Jeff's fight, an', well, I guess we're needin' all our punch to fix
the things crowdin' around us."
"You mean the rustlers?" Nan drove to the heart things without
hesitation.
"Sure. Them an'--other things."
The girl nodded. She knew the other things without asking.
"Jeff's in a heap of--trouble," she said with a sigh.
"An' looks like carryin' us along with him--ef we ain't watchin'
around."
"We've always kind of leaned on Jeff."
"Most folks are ready to lean, Nan. It sort o' saves 'em a deal of
trouble."
"Yes. Till you kick the prop away."
"Sure. Our prop's been kicked away, an' we've jest got to git right up
on to our hind legs an'--git busy. The leanin' racket's played out fer
us. We got to hand Jeff a prop now, an' see it don't git kicked away.
See?"
For some moments the girl's gaze searched straight ahead of her down
the valley. And into her eyes there grew a gentle light of enthusiasm.
Suddenly she turned upon the great figure on its horse beside her.
"We've stood up on our own years, Daddy--before Jeff came along. We
can stand now, can't we? I guess we're not going to fail Jeff now he's
in trouble. Jeff's been all for us. We're going to be all for him.
He needs us, Daddy, and--I'm glad in a way. Say, my heart nigh breaks
every time I peek into his poor sad an' troubled face. Jeff's just
beating his soul dead. And if the Obar gets wrong, it'll sure be the
end of everything for him. It mustn't, Daddy. Things mustn't go
wrong. 'Deed they mustn't. It's up to us. You must show me how,
Daddy. You're wise to it all. You're strong. You know. Show me.
Put me wise, an' I'll--take Jeff's place."
The girl's words came full of a passionate sincerity. There were no
half measures in this child of the prairie. Her love was given, a
wealth of generous feeling and loyal self-sacrifice. Her father read
with a rare understanding. And in his big heart, so rough, so warm, he
cursed with every forceful epithet of his vocabulary the folly of the
man he had marked out for a son.
"We'll make good, or--bust," he said, with a warmth that almost matched
the girl's.
Then he pointed ahead where the hollow opened out, and a large clump of
trees marked dividing ways.
"I guessed you'd best see this. It's one o' them notions o' Jeff's.
That play ain't worth a cent."
"Ah!"
They rode up to the bluff in silence. And after a moment's search Bud
drew rein before a heavy tree trunk, to which was secured a printed
sheet. He pointed at it, and, for a while, neither spoke. Nan was
taking in the disfigurements with which it was covered, and she read
the words written across it in bold but illiterate characters:
"We're wise to her. She don't git no second chanst."
The rest of the disfigurings were mischievous, and of almost indecent
character.
"Does Jeff know?" Nan's question was almost a whisper.
"I ain't told him."
Bud's reply was one of doubt.
"He--he ought to be told."
Then Bud suddenly abandoned the restraint he had been exercising.
"Oh ----! Ther' ain't no use. He can't do a thing. He wouldn't do a
thing. I tell you we're jest suckin'-kids in this racket. We got to
lie around crazy enough to fancy we're goin' to git the drop on these
bums. What a country! What a cuss of a lay-out wher' you got to set
around watching a darnation gang o' toughs whittlin' away your work
till they got you beat to a mush. Here, I'm goin' to start right in.
I'm goin' to get around Calthorpe. The sheriff's got to git busy, an'
earn his monthly pay check. We'll hev to raise vigilantes. I tell you
they'll break us else. Ef Jeff can't see, why, he'll hev to be made
to. Blast their louse-bound souls to hell!"
And Nan welcomed the outburst. Rough, coarse, violent. It did not
matter. What mattered to her was the purpose. The purpose which she
hoped and prayed would help Jeff. She had no thought for themselves.
Their end of the enterprise never came into her considerations. She
was thinking of Jeff. Solely of Jeff--the man she loved better than
her life.
* * * * * *
The change in Elvine was no less marked than it was in Jeff. But it
was a change in a wholly different direction. She was deeply subdued,
even submissive in her attitude. But now after the first crisis and
its accompanying pain, a general relief was apparent. A relief which
anything but indicated the hopelessness which had at the first
overwhelmed her. She was not hopeless. Therein lay the key of the
matter.
From the time when she had passed through those moments of frenzied
despair, after Jeff's return from Orrville, her decision had been taken
with lightning celerity. Her back was to the wall, and she meant to
fight for all she yearned, desired, by every art she possessed. She
knew nothing of the reason which had made her husband return to her.
It was sufficient that he had done so. It gave her the vague, wild
hope she needed, and with all her might she intended to set herself to
the task of winning back her position in his regard.
She was not logical. Had she been, she must have accepted the
alternative of freedom offered her, and, on a liberal allowance,
betaken herself to some selfish, worldly life which might have appealed
to her. No, she was not logical. Had she been, she would never have
loved this man as she now knew better than ever she loved him. She was
not logical, but she had courage. It was the same courage which had
driven her to fight for that which she had desired years ago. She was
going to fight now. And again it was for selfish motives. Only this
time they took the form of the love of the man she| had married.
She set to work from the very start. Her attractions she knew were
great. Jeff must be made to realize them. He must be made to realize
all a woman could mean in this life which was theirs. She would
unobtrusively study his interests to the last degree. His position in
the ranching world would give her ample scope in this. Then there was
the work of the ranch. Here her earlier experiences would help her
materially.
So she laid for herself a deliberate campaign. Always counting that
his lightest command was her law, and nothing must be permitted to
display her desire to break down the barrier he had set up between them.
Two days of deep consideration showed her her course. And once having
marked it out she set about following it.
Her house was her first care. It must be ordered as no other house of
its kind was ordered. She thought of every expressed wish of his
during their brief engagement and honeymoon, and sorted it into its
place in scheme.
Then came her place in the work of the range. This was more difficult
to take at once by reason of lack of precedent. But by tactful
watchfulness she felt it could be accomplished. Her first step must be
to impress on Lal Hobhouse her intention, and, in this, even sooner
than she had dared to hope, she managed to secure a footing. Once her
mind was set to achieve a purpose her capacity was beyond all question,
and in these troublous times of rustlers the foreman was more than
content to welcome her aid.
Throughout these days she rarely obtruded herself upon the man she
desired most in the world. He might almost have been non-existent.
The rare moments in which he spoke to her were met with a cool reserve
on her part, which left nothing to be desired, and gave no opportunity
for the reopening of those matters which had brought about the
position. Indeed, Elvine had more than reason to be satisfied with her
work.
She felt at last that the worst was over, and now it remained for her
to win back, step by step, the lost ground, until she had restored
herself to her position. It could be done. It should be done, she
told herself. She admitted no crime against him. Then where was the
justice of it? Anyway, that fierce dread was off her mind. She knew
the worst now. She no longer stood on the brink of an abyss of
doubt----
She was in her bedroom considering these things. It was a golden
evening and the setting sun was shining athwart her windows. Quite
suddenly the simple sewing in her fingers dropped upon her lap, and her
startled eyes turned upon the wide view of the valley bathed in the
perfect evening light.
Was she no longer standing upon that brink? The question flashed
through her mind as she remembered an incident until then completely
lost in the greater issues. It was the threat of that scrawled note
which had been flung in at that very window. She even remembered the
sensation of the blow which had awakened her on the night of torture
during which she had waited for Jeff's return from Orrville.
She sprang to her feet. Every other thought was swept from her mind.
And, for a moment, fresh panic stirred her veins. The words of that
message. They were unforgettable.
"You sold the lives of men for a price. You had your way then. We're
goin' to have our way now. You'll pay for that deal the only way we
know."
The only way we know! Her memory flew to the man Sikkem. Oh, she knew
him. She had recognized him on the instant of their meeting. She knew
he came from Orrville. She had seen him there. But---- Was he one of
the original Orrville gang, all unsuspected, or, at least, if not
unsuspected, _unknown_ to be?
While she pondered the subject she heard her husband's arrival. She
heard him cross the veranda and, pass into the house.
Then again she took up the thread of her thought. This man Sikkem. If
he were one of the Orrville gang, what was more likely than that he
should have sent that threat? If he sent it, what more likely than
that he was one of the gang of rustlers operating here? If he were one
of them, then what added significance did it give threat?
A wave of sudden excitement replaced the panic of a moment before.
"The only way we know." Did that mean raiding her husband's stock and
endeavoring so to ruin the Obar? It looked like it. It would account
for what was being done. But no. That might be part of what was
contained in the threat. But not all. The only way we know! The only
way this class of man understood paying off a score was different from
that. With these men it was always a life for a life. Whose? Hers?
It might be.
The sun had sunk beyond the mountain peaks. In the adjoining
living-room she heard the clatter of supper things. Jeff was having
his meal in the solitude which had become their habit.
If it were her life they intended it would not much matter. But was
it? Would they punish her that way? To her it did not suggest the
refinement of cruelty which would appeal to them. No, there were other
signs. Their purpose looked to be to ruin the Obar, and then--what
then? Rob her of the man she loved? It could be done. It would be
easy, and surely the refinement of it would appeal to natures so
ruthless.
Her sewing had dropped to the floor. Mechanically she picked it up.
Then and there she purposed to break in upon her husband's meal. But
she hesitated, and the impulse passed. Instead, she went to a drawer
in her bureau and withdrew the folded paper. She read it over and
returned to her seat. Decision was lacking. Her interpretation of the
threat had taken strong hold upon her, but she could not decide what
best to do. Her fine eyes were troubled as she gazed out into the
growing dusk. Dared she go to him? Would he listen?
But once more her thoughts were diverted. The sound of a great clatter
of hoofs reached her from the other side of the house. Some one had
ridden up to the veranda at a great pace. Who? And what could the
urgency be at such an hour?
She heard Jeff moving in the living-room. She heard him pass out on to
the veranda. Then curiosity, perhaps apprehension, urged her. She
passed to the window beyond her bureau, which was near the angle of the
building, and leaned out of it. Ordinary tones on the veranda would
reach her there.
She waited, breathing lightly lest her hearing should be impaired. A
strange voice was talking. She could not place it. It was rough, and
the language was rough. No doubt it was one of the "hands" from some
outlying point.
"They got him through the chest, an' I guess he's goin' to pass in. He
sez to me, 'Ride like hell an' fetch the boss. Tell him I got 'em
plumb wher' he wants 'em. I located their lay-out. I ain't got above
an hour or so to tell him in. Just hike an' ride like ----!'"
Then came Jeff's voice cold and undisturbed.
"Where is he?"
"Why, by his shack at Spruce Crossing. He jest got in, an' nigh fell
plumb in his tracks out o' the saddle. I don't guess any feller but
Sikkem could ha' done it. He's tough--mighty tough."
Sikkem! Elvine moved from the window. Sikkem! Her heart was pounding
in her bosom, and, for a moment, her brain seemed in a whirl. Sikkem
had discovered the raiders and was willing to give them away. In a
flash she was back in Orrville, and her mind was searching amongst
shadowy memories that had suddenly become acute. Sikkem! Sikkem! No.
She must see Jeff. She must tell him of--Sikkem. She must warn him,
and show him her note. A sudden, crushing foreboding descended upon
her, and she hurried toward the door.
In a few seconds she was on the veranda confronting her husband. For a
moment her courage well-nigh failed her. Jeff was standing with his
back turned toward the sunset. The ranchman was no longer there. He
had gone to the barn to order a fresh saddle horse for the master of
the Obar. Apparently Jeff had turned to repass into the house.
His fair strong face, serious and cold, was turned directly upon the
beautiful figure of his wife, and it was the coldness of it that
daunted her now.
"Well?"
The bitterness of that frigid, surprised inquiry was crushing. Elvine
looked into his eyes for one single shadow of softening. She could
find none. It shocked the hope she had been steadily building in her
heart.
She had no words in which to answer. She stood thus for one uncertain
moment. Then she thrust out her hand. It contained the threatening
message.
"Will you read that--at once?"
His cold regard dropped from her face. The man noted the dirty paper
in her soft white hand. Then he took it. Nor did their hands come
into contact.
"Is it a matter of importance?"
Elvine could have cried out with the stab of the question. Only some
matter of vital importance justified her action in his eyes. Her gaze
was averted to hide her pain.
"I should not have come to you otherwise."
The man moved to the edge of the veranda to obtain more of the dying
light. At that moment the ranchman approached with two saddle horses.
Elvine scrutinized him carefully. He was a complete stranger to her.
Jeff had read the note. He stood regarding the ranchman. Suddenly his
voice broke sharply.
"Leave my horse at the tying post. Wait for me at the barn."
He watched the man secure his horse. Then he watched him return to the
barn. Nor did he speak again till he was out of earshot.
At last he turned back to the waiting woman.
"Who sent this? When did you get it? How?" The questions came
rapidly.
"It came the night you were at Orrville. It was flung in through the
open window late at night. I'd fallen asleep in my chair--waiting. It
hit me on the face. They'd made it fast around a grass-tuft."
"Who sent it?"
"It must have been the man, Sikkem, who's just sent in word to you
he's--shot up."
"Sikkem? Why?"
Suddenly the restraint Elvine was exercising gave way. Even her
husband's deliberate coldness was powerless to stem the tide of
conviction which had steadily mounted up within her. The one thought
in her mind was that he stood in danger. Her reason was slight enough,
but her love accentuated her intuition. She saw in her mind the
claiming of the toll these men demanded, and to her swift imagination
the picture of her husband's murder was complete before her eyes.
"Sikkem comes from Orrville. He was there--four years ago. There was
more than suspicion attached to him. My first day here I met him.
Maybe you'll remember. He knew me at once. I don't guess there was
any mistake. And I knew him. When he heard I was--married to you he
pretended he'd mistaken me for--some one else. And when he explained
who, and his feelings against that woman--it was me he was
describing--I knew he was, as was suspected, one of the Lightfoot gang
at Orrville. Sikkem wrote that note. I could stake my life on it.
And--now he's sent for you. He's asking you to go out to Spruce
Crossing--at night. A distant, lonely point in the hills. He says
he's mortally wounded. He has found the rustlers hiding. Of course he
has. He's known all along. Nor do I believe he's wounded. He--and
the others--think the only way to get back on me is--through you. They
mean to kill you. Who's the boy who brought in word?"
"A new 'hand' we've taken on to replace the boy who was shot up two
days back."
"One of the gang."
The woman spoke with a decision she did not realize. But her belief
had become conviction. No shadow of doubt remained.
Jeff gazed thoughtfully down at the note. When he raised his eyes his
regard had undergone a shadow of change.
There was less coldness in them. He shrugged.
"Guess we'll leave that at present. Why all this now?"
"Because your life's in danger. That's how I figure."
There was a deep note of urgency in the woman's voice. Her eyes were
alight with a sudden, unmistakable emotion. But even if the man
realized these things he ignored them.
"My life?" There was something cruelly biting in the reflection. "And
all this time you knew--Sikkem. You knew we were being raided."
"I----" Elvine broke off.
She had no reply. There could be no reply. Why, she wondered in
sudden horror, had she not told of this thing before?
She stood with downcast eyes before the accusing glance of the man.
Then, after a moment's pause, a sound escaped his lips. And in it was
every thinkable expression of condemnation and contempt.
"Tchah!"
He turned away and strode across to his horse. The woman's voice came
to him low, despairing, appealing.
"For God's sake, Jeff, don't go! You won't go! They'll kill you! Oh,
God! Jeff! Oh!"
The final exclamation came in a sort of moan as the man swung himself
into the saddle, and, without a word, turned his horse and rode away.