HELD UP
It was very dark. The wind had the coldness of death in it, and when the
lights of Lone Hollow had faded behind the obscurity closed round me like
a thick curtain. Still, trusting to an instinctive sense of direction men
acquire in that land, I pushed on for the big coulee--one of those deep
ravines that fissure the prairie and much resemble a railway cutting. This
one was larger than the rest, and Carrington Manor stood near one end of
it. The horse evidently had little liking for the journey, and did his
best to shorten it, while I had hard work to keep my mittened hands from
freezing as we swept onward through the night.
In places a thin carpet of snow-dust muffled the beat of hoofs, and there
was no sound but the mournful shrilling of the wind, which emphasized the
great emptiness and sense of desolation until I almost felt that I had
ridden out of our busy life into primeval chaos. We are inclined to be
superstitious on the prairie, which is not greatly to be wondered at.
Fifty yards from the lighted homestead in wintertime there is only an
overpowering loneliness, where Death with his ally the Frost King reigns
supreme; while, living closer to nature, we learn that there are even yet
many mysteries, and man plays but a small part in the business of the
universe. Still, for a time the warmth within me kept out the frost; for
Grace Carrington's hand had rested in mine, and I understood how the
thought of service sustains the Northwest troopers in their lonely vigil.
They served the nation, but I was serving Grace.
Presently even this consolation grew fainter, and the spell of the white
wilderness oppressed my spirits; for the air was filled with warning, and
I knew that heavy snow was not far off. Sometimes very silently a dim
shadow flitted past, and the horse started, snorting as he quickened his
pace with the white steam whirling behind him. It may have been a coyote,
or perhaps a timber wolf; for though the antelope had departed south, the
settlers said that both from the bush of the Saskatchewan and beyond the
Cypress hills the lean and grizzled beasts had come down into the prairie.
Nevertheless, their noiseless passage harmonized with the surroundings;
and at last I grew thankful for a slight drowsiness which blunted the
imagination. But there were other riders out on the waste that night, and,
with one hand on the slung rifle, I reined in the horse as three
white-sprinkled figures came up at a gallop. Generally, as far as anything
human is concerned, the prairie is as safe at midnight, if not safer, than
a street in London town; but because game is plentiful there is generally
a gun in the wagon, and when the settlers ride out they often carry a
rifle at their back.
"Halt!" cried a voice I recognized; and there was a jingle of steel as two
skin-wrapped troopers of the Northwest Police wheeled their horses on
either side of me, while another, who spoke with authority, grasped my
bridle. Even in that darkness I could see the ready carbines, and, knowing
what manner of men these riders were, I was glad I could meet them
peaceably.
"Your name and business," said the voice of Sergeant Macfarlane; and a
disappointed laugh followed my reply as that worthy added, "Then if ye
have no' been raiding Coombs lately ye can pass, friend. Seen no one on
the prairie? I'm sorry. Four cattle-lifting rustlers held up Clearwater
Creek, and we're going south for the next post to head them off from the
boundary. Well, time is precious. A fair journey til ye. It's a very
bitter night, and snowing beyond."
With a faint clatter they vanished again; and I did not envy them their
long ride to the next post, with a blizzard brewing. When his work is over
or the snow comes down the settler may sleep snugly and sound, or lounge
in tranquil contentment beside the twinkling stove, while, as the price of
his security, the Northwest Police, snatching sometimes a few hours' rest
under the gray cloud in a trench of snow, and sometimes riding a grim race
with death, keep watch and ward over the vast territories. We do not rear
desperadoes on the prairie, though some few are sent to us. Neither do
they take root and flourish among us, because ours is a hard country and
there are not many men in it worth robbing. However, there had been
trouble over the border when the rich Cattle Barons strove to crowd out
the poor man, and the hardest hit among the latter, with murderous
Winchesters, lay in wait for the oppressor. I do not know the wrongs and
rights of the whole question; neither were details of every skirmish
published by the American press; but cruel things were done by each side,
and it took a strong force of United States cavalry to restore order. Then
broken men who had lost their livelihood, and some with a price upon their
heads, made their name a terror on both sides of the frontier and kept the
troopers busy.
So I was glad that those particular outlaws had journeyed south, and was
even more pleased when I reached the coulee, for the cold was increasing
and the ride had grown inexpressibly dreary. It was warmer down in the
hollow among the trees, but so black that it was the horse rather than I
that avoided them, while now and then a branch lashed my forehead like a
whip. There were cypress among them resembling solid masses of gloom, and
the wind howled weirdly; but at last I blundered up the winding trail into
sight of Carrington Manor. The big log-and-frame-built house was dark and
silent, and though I knew that at least the majority of its inhabitants
were at Lone Hollow the sight depressed me. Then, just as we drew clear of
the trees, I checked the horse, for, silhouetted blackly against the sky,
a single mounted figure kept watch over it. Perhaps it was instinctive
caution, or it may have been that Grace's uneasiness had infected me, but
I led Jasper's horse back into the coulee and hitched him to a tree, then,
unslinging the rifle, stood still shivering as I watched the figure.
There was something sinister about it, and it might have been frozen stiff
but for a faint rattle as the horse moved its head, while once I caught a
rigid line across the saddle which suspiciously resembled a rifle. Then,
recalling what Sergeant Macfarlane had said, I knew that while the police
rode hot-foot toward the boundary the rustlers had doubled on their tracks
to hold up Carrington Manor. It also struck me that as the main trail ran
straight across the prairie the watcher knew nothing about the bridle-path
through the coulee. In any case, it was plainly my duty to reach the
homestead and render assistance if I could.
I made sure that the Winchester cylinder was filled with cartridges by
pressing back the slide, and then I crept cautiously, with the dark trees
for a background, toward the building, observing as I did so that the
latter rendered the scout invisible to any one approaching by the direct
trail. Then, stooping low, I crossed the bare space which divided me from
the house, trusting that a humming bullet might not overtake me, and
reached it safely with a heart that beat at twice its usual speed. It is
one thing to face danger in hot blood, but it is quite another and much
more unpleasant matter to slink through the darkness wondering whether a
foe one cannot see is following each movement with a rifle. Neither is
there any chance of hitting back in such cases; for it is my opinion, from
watching a stricken deer, that at short ranges the blow comes almost
simultaneously as the optic nerve records the flash and before the ear has
caught the explosion. All this I considered as I flattened myself against
the wall--for I was by no means braver than my fellows--and presently,
yard by yard, wormed myself along it until I passed a corner.
There a light shone out across the snow from a window, and I am perfectly
willing to admit that I crawled toward it on hands and knees, for angry
voices now reached me, and I knew that if I raised myself and the watcher
had changed his position he could see me. I reached the sill at last with
the rifle clenched in one mittened hand; and while I debated on my next
procedure I heard Colonel Carrington say slowly and fiercely:
"I will neither sign nor tell you!"
Then, reflecting that while one can always see into a lighted room those
inside it cannot see out, I determined to risk the scout's vigilance, and
raised my head cautiously, for it was plain that something quite unusual
went on inside. I looked into a kind of ante-room on one side of the
entrance, which the ruler of Carrington used as an office or study. He sat
in a basket chair with a frown on his face and disdain in his eyes, while
a burly man muffled in wrappings leaned on the table opposite him, holding
a rifle, the muzzle of which was turned toward the Colonel's breast. But
there was no sign of fear about him, and I had heard the settlers say that
nothing living could make Colonel Carrington flinch. An open check-book
and some note-paper lay beside an inkstand on the table, and another armed
ruffian stood near the stove. The door of the hall close by stood partly
open, and their voices were audible through it.
"I guess it's quite simple, but you make us tired," the latter said.
"You'll tell us where the chest is, and just fill in that check, with a
letter vouching for the bearer and explaining why you want so much in a
hurry. Then, as I said before, you'll ride south with us a day or two
while we arrange for cashing it, after which we'll let you go safely, on
our honor."
Colonel Carrington laughed sardonically, and I could fancy his thin lips
curling under the gray mustache before he answered:
"I hardly consider that a sufficient guarantee. Again, I will neither sign
nor tell you where the chest is. Confusion to you!"
"You're a hard man," said the other almost admiringly. "If we'd had you to
head us we'd have bluffed off Uncle Sam's troopers at the Cypress range.
Still, we've no time for fooling, and if Jim finds the chest without you
we'll risk putting up the price a thousand dollars or so. Jim is tolerably
handy at finding things. See here, you have got to sign it, and sign it
now, before this Winchester makes a mess of you!"
The Colonel glanced at the rifle coolly, as he answered: "I fail to see
what good that would do. My handwriting is peculiar; you couldn't imitate
it, while you would certainly be hanged when the troopers laid hands on
you."
This was incontrovertible logic, and the two outlaws drawing apart
conferred with each other softly, while I debated what I should do. The
casement was a double one, but I felt sure I could drive a bullet through
one of them. Still, even in the circumstances it looked too much like
murder, and to this day I have never taken the life of a man, though
occasionally forced into handling one roughly. Before any decision could
be arrived at a tramp of feet in the hall showed that somebody approached
under a burden.
"Keep the muzzle on him," said one. "I guess Jim has found the coffer, and
we'll make sure of that. I'll help him to cinch it on the horse if we
can't open it. Colonel, we'll have to fine you the further thousand
dollars."
I realized it was high time for me to vacate that position unless I wished
the couple to discover me, and so I slipped back into the shadow, just in
time, as they strode out carrying something. I watched them vanish into
the blackness, heard the scout answer their hail, and then I crawled back
swiftly--toward the door this time. A glance through the window in passing
showed me that the remaining outlaw stood with his back toward the
entrance, and his eyes fixed on the Colonel. The door was half closed when
I reached it, and for a moment I stood there shortening my grip on the
rifle and gathering my breath; then with a bound I drove it inward, and
whirled aloft the butt of the Winchester.
The outlaw twisted round on his heels; but he moved an instant too late,
for even as his fingers tightened on the trigger the steel heel-plate
descended in the center of his face, and I felt something crunch in under
it. He staggered sideways, there was a crash as the rifle exploded
harmlessly, and before he could recover I had him by the neck and hurled
him half-choked through the door. I had the sense to slam it and slip the
bolt home; then, while I stood panting, the Colonel prepared to improve
our position.
"Close those shutters and screw down the wing-nut hard," he said, hanging
the lamp close beside the door. "Now, stand here in the shadow. I am much
obliged to you, but you should have made certain of that fellow."
It was only natural that he should feel resentment; but there was a cold
vindictiveness in his tone which made me realize that it was as well for
the outlaw that I had not left him in the room. Then he spoke again:
"We have two good weapons; that rascal's cylinder is charged--I saw him
fill it out of my own bandolier, and there is an armory in the other room.
They took me by surprise--in Western parlance, got the drop on me. Of
course they'll come back, but all the doors and windows are fast, and we
could hear them breaking in, while in this kind of work the risk is with
the aggressor."
A pounding on the door cut him short, and a hoarse, partly muffled voice
reached us:
"We're about sick of fooling, and mean solid business now," it said.
"Open, and be quick about it, before we smash that door down and try moral
suasion by roasting both of you."
"You should have stayed when you were in," was the ironical answer. "No
doubt you have observed the light under the door. Well, the first man
across the threshold will get a bullet through him before he even sees us.
Haven't you realized yet that this undertaking is too big for you?"
"Curse him; he's busted my best teeth in. Hunt round and find something
for a battering ram," cried another voice, but though the assailants had
possibly not caught all the answer, they evidently understood the strength
of our position, for we heard them moving away.
"Gone to open the chest in the stables; they won't find much in it," said
Colonel Carrington. "They will try a fresh move next time. Mr. Lorimer, of
Fairmead, are you not? I wish to express my obligations again."
He took it very coolly, as it appeared he took everything, and smiled
curiously as, glancing at his watch, he said half-aloud: "Well, there are
worse things than a clean swift ending, and there was a time when I should
not have stepped aside to let death pass. But I apologize, Mr. Lorimer,
for inflicting such talk on you. Hope we shall be friends if we come out
of this safely. The check?--yes, we'll put it away. It might have saved
trouble to sign it, but you see it was her mother's money, and I only hold
it in trust for my daughter. Neither are we as rich as some suppose us to
be."
His grim face relaxed, and his voice sounded different when he spoke of
Grace, while a few moments passed before he added:
"It cannot be far from dawn, and there's not a soul in Carrington except
you and myself. Grace took all my people with her to help at Lone Hollow.
So, unless you are inclined to stalk them, which I should hardly suggest,
as they might be too clever for you, we must await our friends' arrival
and make the best of it."
I had no inclination whatever to try the stalking. To take a kneeling shot
at an unsuspecting man seemed in any circumstances almost a crime; so we
sat each with a rifle laid across his knees, and for the first time in two
years I tasted excellent tobacco. But the vigil grew trying. The house
seemed filled with whispers and mysterious noises. My throat grew dry, and
the Colonel laughed when once I moved sharply as a rat scurried behind the
wainscot. Neither of us felt inclined to talk, and our eyes were fixed
steadfastly upon the door, until at last the lamp seemed to rise and fall
with each respiration. Then the Colonel approached the window as though
listening, after glancing once more at his watch.
"It must be daybreak, and I hear something," he said. "There is probably
one of them watching, but we must chance it," and he moved softly toward
the door. When we stood outside the cold of the morning went through me
like a knife. Still a rapid beat of horse hoofs rose out of the big
coulee, and it was evident that the outlaws had heard them, for we saw two
men busy with the horses at the stable door, while two more disappeared
behind the bank of sods that walled off the vegetable garden. What their
purpose was, unless they meant to check any accession to our strength
while their comrades escaped with the coffer, was not apparent. It was
blowing strongly now, and the air was thick with falling snow, but I made
out two riders who resembled Harry and Ormond coming toward us at a
gallop, with another horseman some distance behind. Then a hoarse shout
reached us--"Stop right there, and wheel your horses before we plug you!"
I could not see into the hollow beneath the wall because it was some
distance off and the snow whirled about it, but I could imagine the
Winchester barrel resting on the sods while a steady eye stared through
the sights, and knew that neither Ormond nor Harry carried weapons. So I
started at a flounder toward them, roaring as I went:
"Go back--for your life, go back!"
They evidently did not hear me, though we were afterwards to hear the
reason for an apparent act of madness. Harry was always reckless, and
Ormond coolly brave, while as I ran I saw the two horses flying at the
wall. A streak of red flame blazed out low down in the snow, a mounted man
passed me leading two horses, and I neither knew nor cared whether he
noticed me, for I felt suddenly dizzy, wondering whether the bullet had
gone home. Neither did I hear any report at all, for my whole attention
was concentrated on the black shapes of the riders breast high beyond the
wall. Then one beast rose into the air, and I saw Ormond swing a riding
crop round backward as though for the sword cut from behind the shoulder.
A soft thud followed, Harry's horse cleared the sods like a bird, and I
blazed off my rifle at a venture toward the hollow as they thundered neck
and neck past me. It was clear that empty-handed they had ridden either
over or through the foe.
After that events followed too rapidly to leave a clear impression. A pair
of half-seen figures which appeared at the other end of the hollow
scrambled for the empty saddles, and one seemed to help his companion.
Then they vanished into the whirling haze, and Colonel Carrington's
Winchester rapped as he emptied the magazine at the flying foe, while by
the time the new arrivals had mastered their excited beasts there was only
a narrow circle of prairie shut in by blinding snow.
"Very glad to find you safe, sir," said Ormond. "We met the Blackfoot who
peddles moccasins, and he told us he had seen four men he thought were
Stevens' gang heading for Carrington, so we pushed on as fast as we could.
Perhaps if we three went on with rifles we might overtake them."
Harry looked eager, and I was willing, but Colonel Carrington was wisest:
"You have done gallantly," he said, "but it would only be throwing lives
away. The snow is coming in earnest, and it strikes me they have gone to
their account unless they find shelter in a coulee."
Then they dismounted, and a hired man, who had lagged behind through
indifferent horseflesh and no fault of his own, was despatched to prepare
breakfast, and it was a merry party that assembled round the table. Even
the ruler of Carrington's grim face relaxed.
"I am glad to make the acquaintance of both of you," he said. "You will
make the best of Carrington I hope for a day or two."
We were nothing loth, for twenty miles of deepening snow lay between us
and our homestead, where we had little to do, while to complete my
satisfaction Grace and her train arrived in the Lone Hollow sleigh early
the next morning, and on hearing the story her eyes glistened as she
thanked me. "I am so glad I sent you," she said, "and I feel I owe my
father's safety, perhaps his life, to you. It is a debt I can never
repay."
It was late that afternoon when another sleigh drew up before the
Carrington gate, and three white-sheeted troopers lifted a heavy burden
out of it. The thing, which seemed a shapeless heap of snow and wrappings,
hung limply between them as they carried it into the hall, while it was
Sergeant Angus Macfarlane who explained their errand.
"Lay him down there gently, boys," he said. "No, stand back, Miss
Carrington, these kind o' sights are no for you. We found him in a coulee
after yon Blackfoot peddler had told us Stevens had fooled us, and ye'll
mind it's no that easy to fool the Northwest Police. He's one o' the gang,
but the poor soul's got several ribs broken, an' after lying out through
the blizzard I'm thinking he's near his end. It's a long ride to the
outpost, forbye we have no comforts. Maybe ye'll take him--ay, I ken he's
a robber, but ye cannot leave him to perish in the snow."
He flung back the wrappings, and before I could stop her Grace bent down
over the drawn white face with the red froth on the lips, while Ormond
said quietly:
"Very bad, poor devil! I fancied Robin's hoofs struck something that
yielded when he made a landing. You will take him in if it's only to
oblige me, sir."
Grace stood upright with tender compassion shining in her wet eyes as she
fixed them on the old man.
"I am a woman now, father," she said, "and I should like to help to cure
him if it can be done. We shall do everything possible for him, anyway.
Bring him forward, Sergeant Angus. Geoffrey, you know something of
surgery."
"I don't make war on dying men. You will do whatever pleases you, Grace,"
the ruler of Carrington answered, indifferently.
They carried their burden into another room, and I waited beside the
stove, with two faces stamped on my memory. The one was that of the
wounded man with its contraction of pain and glassy stare, and the other
the countenance of Grace Carrington transfigured for a moment by a great
pity that added to its loveliness. Still, the coming of this unexpected
guest cast a gloom upon us, and we seldom saw Grace, while Ormond, who
seemed to know a little of everything, once said on passing: "I have fixed
him up as well as I could, but I think a broken rib has pierced his lung,
and he's sinking rapidly. However, Miss Carrington is doing her best, and
he could not have a more efficient nurse."
It was late in the afternoon when, on tapping at the door in search of
tidings, Ormond called me in. The daylight was fading, but I could see the
limp, suffering shape on the bed, and Grace sitting near the window,
leaning forward as though listening.
"Light-headed at times!" said Ormond; "but he was asking for you. Do you
feel any easier now? Here's another inquirer anxious to hear good news of
you."
The man turned his drawn face toward me, and tried to smile as he said: "I
guess you're very good. Hope you don't bear malice. You oughtn't to
anyhow--nearly broke my neck when you fired me through the doorway. All in
the way of business, and I'm corralled now."
I bent my head with a friendly gesture, for even I could read death in his
face, and the outlaw, glancing toward Grace, added:
"If I'd known you, Missy, we'd never have held up this homestead. White
people all through, and you're a prairie daisy. What made me do it? Well,
I guess that's a long story, and some of it might scare you. A big man
froze me off my land, and some one rebranded my few head of stock. Law! we
don't count much on that; it's often the biggest rascals corral the
offices, and we just laid for them with the rifle. They were too many for
us--and this is the end of it."
Grace moved toward him whispering something I could not catch, but the man
smiled feebly, and I heard the grim answer:
"No; I guess it's rather too late for that. I lived my own way, and I can
die that way too. Don't back down on one's partners; kind of mean, isn't
it? And if it's true what you're saying I'll just accept my sentence.
Going out before the morning; but I sent two of the men who robbed me to
perdition first."
Ormond raised his hand for silence, and again I could hear the shrilling
of the bitter wind that was never still. Then he said softly: "You are
only exciting him, and had better go," and with a last glance at Grace's
slender figure stooping beside the bed I went out softly.
It was nearly midnight and a cold creepiness pervaded everything when he
joined the rest of us round the stove.
"Gone!" he said simply. "Just clenched his hand and died. There was some
fine material wasted in that man. Well, I think he was wronged somehow,
and I'm sorry for him."
We turned away in silence, for a shadow rested upon Carrington, while the
outlaw lay in state in the homestead he had helped to rob, until the
Northwest Police bore what was left of him away. But before that time we
rode back to Fairmead.