THE PLOT AT HACKAMORE.
Nate Dunbar’s first inquiry, after he had put up his horse in the
Hackamore corral and dropped in at the Delmonico Hotel, was for a
jewelry peddler.
“There was one here,” said the hotel clerk, “but one o’ Benner’s men
come in arter him an’ he’s gone ter the Circle-B. He’ll be back, I
reckon, as soon’s he unloads some o’ his stuff on Lige Benner.”
It was after twelve o’clock, and Dunbar scoured the dust from his
face and hands and went into the dining room for his dinner.
The first thing he wanted to buy was a ring with a genuine “spark”
for Hattie. But he’d have to postpone that and go hunting for cowboys
and ranch supplies.
At the general store where he got the goods for the ranch he heard of
two or three experienced men who were out of a job. He found them in
a saloon, and hired two of the men on the spot. The third of the trio
was a fellow whose looks wouldn’t pass muster.
The troubles of Perry and Dunbar were well known all up and down the
Brazos. A few days before, public opinion had been solidly against
them; but now, thanks to the energy of Buffalo Bill and his pards,
public opinion had undergone a change.
Everywhere he went Dunbar was greeted cordially.
“Always knew you an’ Dick Perry would come out on top,” ran the
general theme of talk.
Nate Dunbar smiled grimly. He knew that nearly every one in
Hackamore was under the thumb of the cattle barons, and that the
spectacular work of the scout and his pards, alone, had faced every
cattle baron but Lige Benner the other way around. It wasn’t for
himself that the people of Hackamore showed so much sympathetic
interest in him and Perry and their fortunes, but because of the
potent influence of the king of scouts and his compadres.
If was three o’clock in the afternoon when Dunbar saw Abraham Isaacs
riding into Hackamore. Instantly the young rancher bethought himself
of the diamond ring which he had set his heart on buying for his wife.
He was at the hotel as soon as the Jew got there.
“Got any nice stones set in a ring, Uncle?” asked Nate. “If you have,
I reckon you and I can do business.”
Isaacs peered at him from under his bushy brows.
“Who you was, young chentleman?” he asked.
“Dunbar, of the Star-A ranch,” was the answer.
A flicker ran through the Jew’s eyes, and he trembled a little as he
shifted his battered satchel from one hand to the other.
“Ach, mein friendt,” said he, “I haf got some of der finest shtones
in rings vat efer you see, yah, so. You got der money to buy, I got
der rings to sell. Vat you like?”
“Come off some place where we can be by ourselves,” answered Nate. “I
don’t like to buy finery with so many folks lookin’ on.”
The clerk offered them the use of a room, and they were soon in
chairs, looking over the peddler’s stock.
“What I want,” said Dunbar, “is the real, gen-u-ine thing in stones.
This ring’s to be for Mrs. Dunbar, and she hasn’t her equal among
womenkind in all Texas. I want something that’s up to the mark, or it
don’t go; and, what’s more, I haven’t a mint of money to squander,
either.”
“Vat you like to pay?”
The Jew was studying the handsome face of the young man, studying it
compassionately. If it wasn’t for the gain to be had from Benner,
Isaacs would never have taken part in the contemptible plot hatched
by Jerry. But money was the Jew’s life blood. His compassion was
strong, but his love for money was stronger.
“A hundred pesos is the extent of my pile,” said Dunbar.
“Act, Himmel! Vat you expect to get for a hundert tollars? It
vill be shmall, mein friendt. Tiamonts iss vort’ mooch money. A
hundert-toller bigness in a tiamont iss shmall.”
“Well, anyways, a hundred-dollar bigness is all I can stand for,”
returned Dunbar regretfully. “Next time you come around, Isaacs,
maybe I’ll be in better case so that we can dicker for a watch. How
much is this?”
He picked up a ring and held it where the slanting rays of the sun
entered a window and struck a rainbow of color from the single stone.
“A hundert und feefty toller, Misder Dunbar,” replied the Jew, “but
I geave him to you for one hundert toller. You look like a fine poy,
und I haf got tender feelings for fine poys. Ven you puy der vatch,
den I make it oop vat I lose on der ring. Hein?”
“I’ve bought something, uncle. Put the ring in a box and I’ll stow it
away.”
The ring was put in a case, and the money changed hands. Dunbar,
whistling blithely, left the room. Isaacs looked after him, shook
his head forebodingly, and began replacing his jewelry in the satchel.
While he was about it, a tapping came on the window of the room. He
looked up and saw Jerry Benner peering in at him through the glass. A
shiver ran through the humped form of Isaacs. Here was where the plot
was to begin!
Jerry motioned with his hand that Isaacs was to lift the window sash.
The Jew obeyed, and the crooked form of the hunchback floundered into
the room.
“He’s bought his ring, has he, Abe?” asked Jerry.
“Yah, so,” murmured the Jew, “he has bought der ring.”
“Well, you get those paste stones in a hurry and bring them to me.
Hurry, Abe. He left his saddle and saddlebags at the corral. It’s a
good chance, Abe, for me to do what I’m planning.”
“Ach, Cherry,” said Isaacs, clutching his hands, “he looks like a
goot poy.”
“Never you mind about that, Abe,” snapped Jerry. “If you want to
collect the rest of what’s coming from Lige, get you those bogus
stones. Hustle! Sim Pierce is talking with Dunbar, and Dunbar may
leave for home before he intended. Hurry up, Abe.”
With a stifled groan, the harassed Jew turned and left the room,
taking his precious satchel with him. He returned in a few moments
with the false stones, and the designing Jerry got through the window
with them and moved in the direction of the corral.
Sim Pierce was the first man Dunbar saw when he stepped through the
door of the hotel, the present for Hattie in his pocket.
“Hello, Nate!” called Sim. “I was out ter the Star-A an’ had dinner.
Buffler Bill told me you was in town. Have ye seen the sky pilot yit?”
“Is Jordan in town, Sim?” queried Nate, surprised.
“He was some tired an’ out o’ sorts, an’ he allowed he’d go ter bed
fer a day. He’s at the Delmonico, but I reckon he’s snoozin’, an’
makin’ up fer the sleep he lost when he tied that knot on hossback.”
Sim Pierce chuckled and nudged Dunbar in the ribs. The cowboy grinned
responsively.
“Whyever did you make such a quick trip to the ranch, Sim?” Nate
asked.
Sim drew Nate off toward the hitching pole in front of the hotel,
looked carefully around, and told the young rancher what he had
already told Buffalo Bill and Wild Bill. Dunbar at once began to
worry.
“I’m going to let the rest of my work here in town wait,” said he,
“and I’m going back to the ranch. If any trouble happens, I want to
be there.”
“I reckoned you’d feel that-er-way, Nate,” returned Sim, “but afore
ye go, I’d advise ye ter palaver with Jordan. If he knowed ye was in
town he’d be anxious ter see ye.”
Dunbar ran back into the hotel and inquired his way to the sky
pilot’s room. He was with Jordan no more than fifteen minutes, and
when he left him he hurriedly settled his bill, saddled and bridled
his horse and started at speed for the Star-A.
All this was circumstantial evidence against Nate. He had told the
clerk that he expected to remain in Hackamore two days, but here he
was leaving in haste before he had been in town much more than four
hours.
Nate had hardly hit the trail before Abraham Isaacs began to stir up
the whole hotel with the howling announcement that he had been robbed.
As ill luck would have it, Bloom, the sheriff, happened to be in the
hotel office at the time. He took Isaacs in hand, questioned him, and
the clerk cut into the talk to tell about Dunbar’s hurried flight for
the Brazos.
“He’s the man!” declared Bloom, with a snap of his lean jaws. “You,
an’ you, an’ you,” he turned to indicate three cowboys who were in
the office, “will come with me. You can’t refuse the law when you’re
called upon. We’re a ‘possey come-and-git-us,’ and we’ve got to
overhaul Dunbar and see if he’s got the stolen goods.”
Sim Pierce, strolling toward the hotel from down the street, saw the
sheriff and the four cowboys hustling off along the trail. He knew,
from the way they rode, that there was something up.
In the office the clerk told him about the robbery of Isaacs, and
about Dunbar being suspected.
“It ain’t so!” bellowed Sim Pierce. “That ’er boy is as squar’ a
piece o’ furniture as ever come out o’ the fact’ry. I tell ye I won’t
b’leeve it.”
“You’re not the only one who won’t believe it, Sim,” came a quiet
voice behind Pierce, and he turned to meet the indignant, boyish
face of Jordan, the sky pilot. “We’ll wait till Bloom and his posse
get back, though, before we express ourselves too strongly. I’ve a
notion”--he dropped his voice to a whisper--“that this may be a part
of Lige Benner’s plot. We’ll see, Sim, we’ll see.”
It was two hours later that the “possey come-and-git-us” loped back
to town. They brought Nate Dunbar with them, and Nate’s hands were in
manacles.
They had found the missing diamonds in his saddlebags. Nate didn’t
know how they had got there, but he did know that the first he saw
of them was when the sheriff pulled them out of the bags.
Although burning with indignation, Jordan, the sky pilot, kept in the
background.
“Sim,” said he to Pierce, “get a fresh horse and ride for the Star-A
ranch as fast as you can go. Don’t tell Hattie anything about this,
but tell Buffalo Bill and his pards. I’ll do nothing here until I can
have a talk with the scout. He’s the one to handle this, and the only
one!”
So, while Sim Pierce raced through the night, and Jerry Benner rode
slowly and exultantly in the direction of the Circle-B ranch, Nate
Dunbar sat helpless in the shanty which served for the Hackamore
jail. The young rancher was so dazed by recent events that he could
not think.