BENNER’S CHANGE OF HEART.
“What’s back of this?” breathed Dick Perry suspiciously. “What’s Lige
Benner’s real purpose in acting this way?”
The rancher had for so long been the victim of Benner’s plots, that
even now he could not take his show of friendship at face value.
“Benner,” answered the scout, “has undergone a change of heart.
There’s nothing back of this move of his except a desire to establish
peace on the river. He’s tired of the squabbling. For once in his
life, at least, Lige Benner is showing that there’s some good in him.
Watch--watch and listen! Let’s see how he handles the affair.”
All eyes in the cabin peered from the loopholes. Horseman after
horseman had ridden from the woods into plain view--all Circle-B men,
and numbering fully a score and five. Each of Benner’s men had a
rifle, and each held it trained on a hostile cowboy.
The H-P contingent were stunned into silence and inaction. The wagon
box tumbled over and the torches dropped from the hands of the
would-be firebugs.
Certainly it was an odd situation. Both Phelps’ men and Benner’s had
fought side by side against the Star-A ranchers, along at the first
of the troubles. Each side had comrades in the other side, and for
the two parties to stand ready to leap at each other’s throat formed
a strange commentary on the ways of fate.
“You see,” called Lige Benner, “I’m the boss of this end of the
business. There are fifteen of you and twenty-six of us. We have
rifles, and you have small arms. Likewise, we have the drop.”
“I--I thort you fellers was friends o’ our’n!” stuttered Prouther.
“So we are,” answered Benner. “We’re the best friends you H-P fellers
ever had. What we’re doing now is the friendliest kind of an act.
Prouther, we’re keeping you from doing something you’d be sorry
for--something you’d be brought to book for. You’re fighting Buffalo
Bill, and you’re laying yourself wide open by your lawlessness. If
you had been allowed to keep on, sooner or later Buffalo Bill would
have made you pay up in full.”
“But Nate Dunbar done up Jake Phelps!”
“Be hanged to that! Dunbar is as guilty of that as I am--just about.
But I’ve talked enough. You punchers will file past me, one at a
time, and drop your guns in front of my horse. After that, you will
take to your mounts and hustle for home--and you’ll stay home when
you get there, for I intend to keep this force of men on guard here
until this Jake Phelps matter is settled, and settled right. You can
head the procession, Prouther!”
“I’m blamed if I’ll give up my guns!” howled Prouther.
“You’ll give them up, and no more words about it. If you’ll ride over
to the Circle-B, in two or three days, you can have the weapons back
again. Start yourself, Prouther!”
Prouther tried to haggle further. Thereupon Benner ordered one of his
men to dismount and take his weapons away from him. Prouther swore,
but he had to yield. Two rifles were aimed at him, and the faces
behind the guns were full of grim resolution.
The rest of the H-P men did not make so much trouble. They realized
that they were helpless to do otherwise than obey orders. One by one
they defiled past Lige Benner, and one by one they snatched their
weapons from their belts and flung them angrily down.
When they were all disarmed, Benner ordered them to their horses.
They rushed at their animals, hurled themselves into their saddles
and careered away, roaring their threats as to what they would do
later.
As soon as the last hoofbeat had died to silence, Buffalo Bill pulled
open the cabin door and passed out in front. Lige Benner rode up to
him, dismounted, and came forward with outstretched hand.
“Do you believe that I mean well now?” he asked.
“I never doubted that you meant to do the right thing, Benner,”
answered the scout heartily, giving the offered hand a cordial clasp.
“How were you able to get here just when we most needed help?”
“I left Hackamore just after I talked with you, and rode for home. I
hadn’t been there long when I heard this about Dunbar. A little while
after that, one of our boys who had been over at the H-P ranch, rode
in and told me that the lynching party of fifteen had started for the
Star-A. As quick as I could, I got this force of men together, gave
them a short talk, and we rode here. I reckon you know the rest.”
Dunbar, Perry, Hattie Dunbar, Sim Pierce, old Nomad and Little Cayuse
had crowded through the door while Lige Benner was talking. The scout
stepped a little apart and waited to see what would happen between
Benner and the Star-A ranchers.
There was an embarrassing pause, for a few moments. Benner cut it
short by stepping up to Perry.
“Dick Perry,” said he, “let me frankly say that I never liked you,
but also let me confess that I had no real reason for putting myself
at swords’ points with you. I was in the wrong. I did not make this
about face because I felt that I was in the wrong, but because I
felt that I should be drawn into a bad tangle unless Red Steve was
captured and made to tell the truth about Ace Hawkins. But I’m
receding from that position. I’m beginning to want peace on the
Brazos for its own sake. I take it, you and Dunbar are as anxious to
find Red Steve as I am? Then let’s make common cause. Will you take
my hand?”
Perry hesitated. In the gathering dusk, the scout saw his eyes flash
and his face harden; then, generously, he threw past grievances to
the winds and took the hand held out to him.
Nate Dunbar pushed forward with his wife. His left arm encircled
Hattie’s waist, and together they stood in front of their old enemy.
“Hattie and I want to be in on this,” said Nate. “I don’t say, mind
you, that you saved me from those H-P men. They never would have got
me, for I had Buffalo Bill and his pards on my side. But you did
keep us from shooting into the party of lynchers, and that would
have caused no end of trouble. Red Steve must have been the man who
tackled Jake Phelps on the trail. As you say, Benner, we have common
cause against him. Perry has met you halfway, and with him for an
example, Hattie and I won’t hang back in doing the same thing.”
They shook hands, and Benner doffed his black sombrero and bowed to
Mrs. Dunbar.
“Whoop-ya!” jubilated old Nomad. “Ring ther bells! Let the band toot!
Allymand left an’ all sashay! Peace is shore beginnin’ ter ride
circles eround the diffikilties on ther Brazos! Be happy, ever’body,
kase ther merlennium hes come! Who’d ever a-thort et?”
“I have to say, Buffalo Bill,” went on Benner, as soon as the old
trapper had eased himself of his glorying, “that my men will remain
on guard around this cabin until this trouble about Jake Phelps has
been straightened out. There’ll be no more lynching parties. Have
your pards learned anything regarding Red Steve?”
“Wild Bill Hickok and the baron are on his trail,” said the scout.
“They’ll be heard from before long.”
“Wild Bill Hickok is a man of parts,” said Benner, with a rueful
laugh. “I know from personal experience with him what he can do. If
any one can catch Red Steve, it’s Wild Bill Hickok. We’re to remain
quietly until he reports?”
“Yes.”
“Then I and my men will stay out here.”
“You can come in the house with the rest of us, Benner,” said Perry.
“I’d prefer to be with my men,” was the answer.
“Anyhow,” put in Dunbar, “we’ll see that you and your men have
supper.”
Benner went back to his men, and the latter began caring for their
horses. Guards were posted to command all approaches to the Star-A
ranch, and rifles were kept within easy reach.
Preparing supper for thirty or more was something of a task, but
Dunbar helped his wife, and Little Cayuse carried out the food when
it was ready.
There was peace on that part of the Brazos, albeit an armed peace.
Real peace could not come until Red Steve was captured, and had been
forced to confess all he knew about Ace Hawkins and Jake Phelps.
Following supper, the scout and his pards smoked with Benner in front
of the cabin. At a late hour Benner went to his blankets under the
trees. Cayuse bunked down at the corral by the horses, and the others
hunted berths on the floor of the ranch living room.
It was in the small hours of the morning that Little Cayuse crept
into the living room and crawled to the scout.
“Come, Pa-e-has-ka!” he whispered.
The scout sat up.
“What’s wanted?” he asked.
“Wild Bill make um palaver by corral. You come, Pa-e-has-ka.”
The scout wondered at all this mysteriousness on Wild Bill’s part,
but he presumed that Hickok, not knowing the lay of the situation,
had made up his mind to proceed carefully. The main fact seemed to be
that the Laramie man had returned from his search with important news
about Red Steve. Thrilled with hope, the scout left the house quietly
and met Hickok by the corral.
They talked for several minutes in low tones, and the scout’s voice
betrayed traces of considerable excitement. At the end of their talk,
Buffalo Bill saddled Bear Paw, gave instructions to Cayuse to say
nothing, and slipped away into the darkest part of the night with
Wild Bill.
Morning came, and great was the excitement when it was discovered
that Buffalo Bill had vanished. Nomad fretted, the rest wondered, and
Cayuse held his peace.
Breakfast was prepared, and while Benner and his men were eating out
under the trees, and the others were taking their meal in the house,
Buffalo Bill came slashing up to the corral, cared for Bear Paw, and
hurried to the cabin.
There was a queer look on his face, and a queer gleam in his eyes.
Over all, however, was an expression of triumph not unmixed with
amazement.
“Whar ther nation you been, Buffler?” whooped the old trapper, when
the king of scouts pushed into the kitchen and took his seat at the
table.
“Been having a little ride, pard,” laughed the scout indefinitely.
“Took er leetle pasear around lookin’ fer Red Steve?”
“Well, you might call it that. I’m hungry as a bear that has just
come out of his hole in the spring. Load that plate full, Nate.”
“Sim hyar reckoned he wouldn’t git ter see ye afore he started fer
Hackamore.”
“Got ter go back,” put in Sim. “I ain’t needed here, anyways,
with all these men o’ Benner’s standing between Nate an’ trouble.
I’ll borry a rifle an’ take it erlong in case I meet up with Red
Thunderbolt. Say, I’d like ter put a bullet inter that critter. The’s
a thousand out for Red Thunderbolt.”
“A thousand?” asked the scout, falling to with his knife and fork.
“Shore. The cattle barons, up an’ down the river, have offered
a thousand in cash fer the man thet knocks over that murderin’
maverick. Now, if I could do the trick----”
“You can’t, Sim,” cut in Dunbar. “It’s been tried too many times. Red
Thunderbolt bears a charmed life.”
“Don’t leave the ranch just yet, Pierce,” said the scout. “There’s
something I want you to do.”
“Waal, if ye got any bizness on hand fer me, o’ course I’ll hang
eround. Any more peace-makin’?” grinned Pierce.
“That’s what it’s to be.”
The scout’s face had become sphinxlike, and prying eyes learned
nothing from a study of it.
“Buffler, ye’re holdin’ somethin’ back!” rumbled the trapper.
“Consarn et, pard, kain’t ye see how I’m on tenterhooks? Why don’t ye
le’go with what ye got on yer mind? What’s ther use o’ hangin’ fire?”
The scout laughed.
“Don’t get inquisitive, Nick. I’ve got a big surprise in store for
all of you, but I must spring it in my own way, and at my own time.”
“What kind of er s’prise?”
“The kind that will make you sit up, open your eyes, and gasp. I want
several in the party.”
“Me an’ Pierce?” quizzed Nomad.
“More than that. Hattie must be along, and Nate, and Perry; also Sim,
and you, Nick, and Cayuse.”
“Jumpin’ catermounts! Why, ye’re cleanin’ out ther hull ranch house.
Ef Wild Bill an’ the baron’ ’u’d on’y happen erlong, I reckon ye’d
take them, too, hey?”
The scout laughed.
“Benner will also be with us,” said he, “and Hank Phelps.”
The name of Benner was a little surprising, but the mention of Hank
Phelps quite took the breath of the others.
“The way Hank Phelps feels toward us, Buffalo Bill,” said Perry,
“it’s doubtful whether he would agree to go.”
“I think he’ll go, all right, if the invitation is handed to him in
the right way.”
“Arter what happened hyar last night,” chuckled Nomad, “d’ye opine
Phelps would accept any o’ our invitation, no matter how et was
handed ter him?”
“I reckon he will. You see, to make sure the invitation is given as
it should be, I intend to offer it myself.”
They all stared at that.
“How ye goin’ ter work et?” demanded Nomad.
“I’m going to ride to the H-P ranch directly after breakfast.”
“All o’ us with ye?”
“Certainly not, Nick. Do you imagine that I would take Nate over to
Phelps’ place, while things are as we have them now? It would be
worse than foolish. I’m going to call on Phelps alone.”
“Don’t!” begged Perry. “Ruffianly work will be done, Buffalo Bill. I
know Phelps better than you do. He’s probably as crazy mad over what
happened to Jake as any of his men. You’ll have more on your hands
than you can attend to.”
“I think not,” said the scout quietly.
“Stay away from the H-P ranch, amigo,” urged Nate.
“But it’s necessary for you, necessary for peace on the Brazos, that
I call on him. So I’m going.”
When the scout spoke in the tone of voice he used then, further
argument was useless. Everybody was burning with curiosity to know
what he had at the back of his head, but he continued smilingly
indefinite.
“Cayuse,” said he, when he had finished and risen from the table, “go
out and get Bear Paw ready for the trail. In two hours,” he added to
Perry, “I want all the rest of you to ride to the forks of the trail
just where it divides for Hackamore and the Circle-B ranch. If I’m
not there with Phelps when you get there, wait for us. Benner will
ride with you, Perry. The Circle-B men will take care of the ranch
until we get back.”
“I don’t like ther pizen lay-out, not noways,” declared Nomad, “but
orders is orders. Ef we wait more’n two hours fer ye at the forks o’
ther trail, and ye don’t come, I’ll ride ter Phelps’ hangout, an’
purceed ter tear things.”
“Don’t do anything rash, Nick,” counseled the scout, leaving by the
kitchen door and climbing into his saddle.
At the edge of the timber he drew rein to talk with Benner.
“I’ve got something important to say to you, Benner,” said he, “and
my time is limited. Mount and ride a ways with me.”
“I’ll do it.”
Benner’s horse was put under saddle in record time, and he and the
scout started side by side along the trail that led to the H-P ranch.
“I’m going over to call on Phelps,” announced the scout.
Benner started in his saddle.
“Alone?” he inquired.
“Yes. Business calls me.”
“It’s dangerous, considering the temper Phelps is in about Jake. If
Jake happens to have crossed the divide, I would be willing to gamble
you have trouble getting clear of his place with your scalp.”
“Do you really think so?” asked the scout, with a keen glance at his
companion. “Didn’t I call on Phelps once before, when you and he were
in the ranch house? And didn’t I get away with ground to spare?”
A flush stole over Benner’s bronzed face. The scout had referred to
an incident during the time when Phelps and Benner were at war with
Perry and Dunbar. On that occasion, Buffalo Bill had rescued Perry
from Phelps’ ranch house, and had left Benner and Phelps handcuffed
back to back.
“I renig,” said Benner, with a short laugh. “You’re able to take care
of yourself in any and all circumstances, Buffalo Bill. I reckon you
can call on Phelps and get away again. But what’s the use?”
“We’re close to the end of this trouble trail,” proceeded the scout
earnestly. “A little quick work this morning will settle everything.
Perry, Mr. and Mrs. Dunbar, Sim Pierce, old Nomad and Little Cayuse
are going to start on horseback inside of two hours for the place
where the trail forks to go to Hackamore and to your place. They will
wait for Phelps and me at the forks. You, Benner, are to ride with
the party from the Star-A.”
Benner was intensely interested.
“Have you discovered something of importance?” he asked.
“I have--something of the utmost importance; something that will
spell peace on the Brazos.”
“Something that will clear me of any suspicion regarding the taking
off of Ace Hawkins?”
“I believe so.”
“And clear Nate Dunbar?”
“Undoubtedly.”
“What is it?”
“I’ll show you later. Meanwhile, be prepared for a big surprise.”
“You’ve got me all worked up,” muttered Benner, with a low laugh.
“Everybody will be worked up before we are through. It’s the biggest
thing, Benner, that ever happened in this Brazos country.”
“Why are you taking Phelps along?”
“Because he must hear what we hear, and see what we see. That’s of
the utmost importance.”
“Can’t I go to Phelps’ ranch with you?” suggested Benner. “I know
Hank pretty well, and, if he gets ugly, perhaps I could help you
handle him.”
“No, Benner,” answered the scout firmly, “I prefer to go alone. You
ride with Perry, Dunbar and my pards. They have nothing but friendly
feelings for you now. Have your cowboys watch the Star-A ranch until
we get back there.”
“Just as you say. I’m a good soldier, Cody, and know how to obey my
superior officer. Is that all?”
“Yes.”
“Adios, then.”
Benner wheeled his horse and rode back along the trail to the Star-A.
The scout spurred into faster gait, and laid a rapid course in the
direction of the H-P ranch.
Benner turned to look back at him.
“I wouldn’t be in Phelps’ shoes for a bushel of dinero,” thought
Benner, “if he tries to do what Buffalo Bill don’t want him to.”