"Only a little way further, Peanut, old boy," Limber encouraged the
pony, patting its neck as he swung once more to its back; and Peanut,
knowing the distance home, started willingly on his way through the
storm.
They were on the main road which led directly to the Hot Springs ranch,
but a few feet from the creek-crossing it forked to the Circle Cross. As
they neared this Y, the pony jumped and stopped, snorting. Limber leaped
from his saddle and sheltered by Peanut's body, crouched low, holding
his pistol ready. When the next flash came, illuminating the landscape
as brilliantly as though it were midday, he slipped the pistol quickly
into the holster at his hip and ran to a white heap huddled in the road.
Limber stooped at the woman's side and held his shaking hand against her
heart; then he opened his flask and forced whiskey between the closed
teeth, and chafed the cold hands. There was no response. Hurriedly, he
unfastened the yellow slicker he was wearing, and gently wrapped it
about the unconscious form. Then, lifting her in his arms, the cowboy
mounted his pony, thankful that Doctor Powell was so near.
The wind blew the woman's hair across his lips, and a wonderful sense of
happiness thrilled him. In the flashes he could see her pale face lying
against his wet coat, and his heart throbbed with love and tender pity.
Doctor Powell opened the door in response to Limber's call. A vivid
flash showed Peanut with Limber on his back holding Katherine in his
arms.
"What's the matter, Limber?"
"I found her at the forks of the road on the ground. She's just fainted,
I think," explained the cowboy as he placed the unconscious form in the
doctor's arms.
Chappo ran from the house and took the reins from Limber, leading Peanut
to the stable while the two men entered the house. The doctor laid
Katherine on the couch and brought restoratives. Limber knelt beside her
and gently chafed the cold hands.
"Glendon's broke jail at Tombstone with the rest of the bunch. There's a
posse, comin' from Willcox. I was comin' out to let you know; but they
can't cross the Creek now. It's runnin' from bank to bank. Peanut just
made it by a scratch."
The light from the lamp fell across the cut and bruised face, and
Limber's eyes turned to Powell.
"Do you think she done that fallin' in the road?" he asked
significantly.
"No," was the positive reply, as Powell studied her face. "It looks like
a blow; besides, those are finger marks on her throat. I saw her two
hours ago--she was all right then--Juan is away--I left her there alone."
Limber rose from the side of the couch and looked into Powell's eyes.
"Nobody would lay a hand on her exceptin' Glendon."
Powell uttered no sound, but his face was pale with emotion as the
cowboy went on speaking in low, tense voice.
"They got away at six o'clock, and if Glendon had a good mountain pony
and took the old Indian trail, he could've got to the Circle Cross
before now. If I knowed he'd hit her, I'd kill him on sight! She's the
nerviest woman I have ever seen--and the finest."
Doctor Powell held out his hand and gripped Limber's.
"You've been a loyal friend to her, Limber."
"Thar ain't nothin' I wouldn't do for her," said the cowpuncher, simply.
"Thar's lines that is drawed between humans, jest as in animals. Glendon
wasn't meant for her, noway."
Understanding each other thoroughly, the two men who loved her sat
watching the unconscious woman until her eyes opened slowly, resting
curiously on Limber; then as she saw the other man, her expression
turned to one of terror. With a cry, she tried to rise, but Powell's
hand restrained her.
"Lie still," he said quietly. "You are safe."
She looked up wildly. "Bar the door! Quick!" she cried. "He is coming to
kill you!"
Their first impression that she did not realize what she was saying,
vanished as they listened to her story. She did not speak of the blow,
nor her refusal to hide away the money, but told them that Glendon had
seen the doctor talking with her, and left the house with the avowed
intention of killing him.
"Thar's been plenty time for him to get here ahead of you, Mrs.
Glendon," Limber assured her. "He'd a been here long before I found you
at the forks of the road, if he was comin'. I guess he was just bluffin'
you, and when he found it didn't work he lit out with the two horses."
Powell agreed heartily with Limber, but to calm her fears, the cowboy
barred the door. Katherine, succumbing to the sedative the doctor
administered, relaxed gradually. Her lids closed wearily, but her lips
moved, and in half-broken sentences she went over the terrible scene;
pleading with her husband for Powell's life, or talking to the dead dog,
begging it not to let the little scarlet thread reach her; then she sank
into silence, unconscious of all that she had revealed.
The men's eyes met. They read each other's thoughts. Limber's face was
set and white, as, with a nod to the doctor, he rose and tiptoed from
the room into the kitchen where Chappo was sitting near the stove.
The cowboy took his pistol from the holster at his hip, and looked at
the cylinder. Twisting it between his fingers he slipped the cartridges
from it. They were wet from the rain.
"Got some lard?" he asked Chappo, and when the Mexican brought it,
Limber greased the cartridges and put them back into the cylinder, then
dropped the pistol into the holster of his cartridge belt. A Winchester
rifle hung in a leather scabbard on the kitchen wall, and Limber lifted
it down.
Chappo watched him examine the magazine of the gun.
"Eet is all right," he said. "Eet shoots good." The Mexican's eyes met
Limber's. "You go hunting, Leember? Take heem."
"Yes. Give me some jerky, Chappo. I may not get any game for a couple of
days."
Chappo understood, and hastened to get the stiff strips of sun-dried
meat which he put in a small cotton sack and handed to the cowboy,
saying, "Good luck, Leember! Shoot straight!"
With a grim smile the Mexican saw the cowboy and gun disappear.
Peanut looked up in surprised reproach as his master reached for the
saddle hung on a peg. The pony knew he had well-earned his blanket and
bin of oats that night.
"We've got some more work to do, Peanut," said Limber, throwing the
saddle across the pony's back, and Peanut, with a final bite at the
oats, turned again to face the storm with his master. The cowboy was
sure that Glendon had pushed on toward the border, and not knowing about
the gold he was carrying with him, supposed he had taken Fox as a relay
horse. This would give Glendon the advantage should the chase be
protracted; but, Limber knew that Peanut's nervous energy and staying
qualities in the mountains made him equal to any two ordinary horses.
"We'll follow him till Hell freezes over, Peanut, and we'll sure get him
in the end," said the cowpuncher as he rode into the night.
He did not try to justify himself by recalling that Glendon was an
outlaw, whose capture or death was demanded by the law of the country;
he did not remind himself that Glendon had killed old Paddy and had
broken the unwritten law of fair play. It was the recollection of the
woman with the cut face and finger-marked throat that sent Limber out
into the storm. The woman Glendon had tried to drag into the mire of his
own infamy as a reward for nine years of loyal devotion; the woman whom
Limber had held in his heart and worshipped reverently.
Peanut slipped on the rain-sodden earth, and Limber, leaning forward in
his saddle, kept his Winchester ready as he listened for the faintest
indication of Glendon's presence. Limber did not believe that Glendon
had carried out his assertion that he would go to the Hot Springs.
Otherwise, he would have been there long before. It was more possible
that he had doubled back on his tracks, and struck out through the
mountains toward the south, heading for the border, in order to cover
his trail as much as he could by dawn. He would have to keep well-hidden
in the day time.
Suddenly, from the darkness sounded the shrill neigh of a horse. Limber
threw himself on Peanut's neck and reached down, grasping the pony's
nose firmly to prevent him from answering. Still keeping a grip on
Peanut's nostrils, the cowboy dropped to the ground, and stood back of
the pony's shoulder, believing that Glendon had seen him and was
creeping on him in the dark. The flashes of lightning were less
frequent. The rain and wind raged more furiously.
Then from the gloom trotted a riderless pony, calling again and again as
it approached them. A flash enabled Limber's keen eyes to recognize Fox.
With a little nicker of delight, it trotted to Peanut's side and stood
rubbing its nose against the other pony's shoulder. Limber saw a
weather-beaten saddle and new saddlebags on Fox's back, while a broken
halter-rope dangled from the animal's neck. He knew the horse had broken
away from Glendon, and was probably making its way back to the Circle
Cross, the only home it had ever known. If so, Glendon would follow
until he caught it, for he would need the extra horse in his long
flight.
Limber hastily tied the broken halter-rope to the horn of Peanut's
saddle, and left the two animals standing in the centre of the road as a
decoy, while he crawled to a projecting clump of brush and slowly wormed
his way parallel to the road. He was following Apache tactics, now. A
prolonged flash of quivering, dazzling light, and Limber's half-blinded
eyes scanned the brush and trees. Then the rifle leaped to his shoulder
and his finger rested on the trigger.
Down the road he had seen Glendon. At the same time he knew that Glendon
had seen him. Back into the brush he slipped lying flat on his face and
writhing cautiously forward. There would be no time for a second
shot--Glendon was waiting, too. How close was he, now? Inch by inch
Limber dragged himself. Somewhere in the night, another man was crawling
toward him, gun in hand--The man who had left the marks of his fingers
on a woman's throat. God! Would there be no flash of lightning now that
he needed just one more.
It came, as though in answer to his prayer. Dazzling, blinding and with
frightful crash as though the whole world had fallen into space and
crushed another world to atoms. A sharp tingling pain shot through
Limber's muscles, his gun dropped from his hand and exploded; he
wondered if Glendon had hit him, but it was rain, not blood that soaked
his sleeve.
He gripped his gun and threw another cartridge into place. Once more he
began creeping and waiting. When another flash came, the cowboy lowered
his gun, and rose to his feet. At the side of the road ahead of him was
an uprooted cottonwood tree. Under it lay a horse and a man.
Uncertain whether the man was dead or merely stunned, Limber crouched
warily in the brush, waiting a tell-tale movement. But the horse and man
did not stir.
Then the cowboy approached and looked down in the fitful glare of the
flashes, and saw an immovable figure--face distorted with agony--open
eyes staring unseeing into the storm--clothes across a charred
breast--an odour of burnt flesh and singed hair--the body of a dead
horse.
Limber gazed down at the man, his mind filled with conflicting emotions.
He had intended killing Glendon as he would have killed a mad coyote or
a rattlesnake, and he would have felt no regret; but, now--
He raised the dripping hat from his head. Not because of the broken
thing that lay at his feet, but in recognition of something higher and
more incomprehensible which rules the Universe--with its three
unfathomable mysteries, Life, Death and Eternity.
Replacing his hat, Limber made his way back to the horses and slipped
the Winchester into the scabbard which hung from Peanut's saddle.
"It's worked out all right, Peanut," said the cowboy as he mounted the
pony and faced the Hot Springs ranch. "I'm glad I didn't have to kill
him. Just the same I'd a done it ruther than let him drag her through
Hell another hour. He can't bother her no more, now."
He stabled Fox and Peanut, then went to the kitchen where Chappo, like a
faithful old watchdog, was dozing beside the stove. He started to his
feet as Limber entered, but asked no questions when the cowboy, without
a word, hung the Winchester on the pegs where he had found it.
Powell, sitting by the couch in the front room, heard Limber's steps.
With a glance at the sleeping woman, he rose softly and went to the door
that led into the kitchen. He closed the door and his eyes met Limber's.
"He's dead," said the cowboy. Then, reading the unspoken question in the
doctor's eyes, he added, "No. It was the lightning done it. A tree fell
on him and his horse."
"Thank God!" said Powell, but his tone was reverent, not jubilant.
"Is she all right?" asked Limber anxiously.
"Resting quietly. We'll take her over to Mrs. Traynor in the morning,
Limber. She needs a woman friend, now."
"The Little Lady will look out for her," said the cowboy. Then he
glanced at Chappo, and after a slight hesitation continued, "I wish
you'd come out and take a look at Peanut's ankle, Doc."
Powell, catching the peculiar tone, nodded and followed to the barn
where the ponies stood contentedly in their stalls. Limber closed the
stable door and spoke in a low voice.
"Glendon was ridin' the horse and saddle he stole in Tombstone. It's a
Lazy F pony. The lead-rope on Fox was busted."
"All right. I'll notify the Lazy F people," Powell replied wondering why
Limber thought secrecy necessary.
"That ain't what's troublin' me. You see when Glen was arrested he rid
his own saddle to town with the posse. I was with 'em, and I knowed his
saddle. Besides, I bought it from Juan afterwards, when they was hard up
for dinero. Mrs. Glendon didn't know I bought it. That saddle's over to
the Diamond H and been thar for two months."
He walked to the corner of the barn and pointed at the saddle he had
taken from Fox.
"That's the saddle that was on Fox," he said slowly. "It belonged to old
Doctor King--we all thought the Apaches got it."
Powell grasped Limber's arm. "You don't think Glendon killed King, do
you?"
"Thar ain't no way I can see to think he didn't," responded the
cowpuncher. "From all we could find out, King and Glendon rid to the
forks together and separated. King was goin' down the San Pedro and
Glendon to Jackson's Flats. You can see how easy Glendon could of shot
from the upper trail. The bullet went into King's head above the left
temple and came out behind the right ear. You seen that yourself. I
thought it was kinder queer when I heard Mrs. Glendon say the Apaches
didn't reach the Circle Cross till noon and you said King had been dead
over night. But then I figgered the Indians was snoopin' round that part
for a couple of days."
"What object would Glendon have had?"
"He'd pick a fight with any one when he was tanked up a bit. You know he
always wanted the Hot Springs, and King wouldn't sell it to him. He
didn't know the land was patented, and mebbe he figgered that if King
was dead it would be easy to jump the Springs. Of course, he didn't know
about King makin' any Will, nor that you and the Boss was workin' up a
deal with King. That's why Glendon's had it in for the Diamond H and for
you ever since."
The chain of circumstantial evidence seemed conclusive as forgotten
details were recalled.
"Thar's a heap of gold coins in the saddle bags that was on Fox," Limber
went on. "Looks like it was Paddy's money that every one was hunting
for. We all knowed that he had thirty-five thousand dollars in gold
buried some place around. Thar was twenty-five thousand in that
flower-box he guv to Jamie and the Little Lady; and this makes ten more.
Paddy scattered it around."
"I wonder how Glendon happened to locate it?" mused the doctor.
Limber whirled about. "He located that money before he killed old Paddy!
That's why he done it, and Alpaugh stood in with him! Glendon was too
much of a coward to do anythin' exceptin' shoot old men and bully his
wife. He was too rotten to live and too damn rotten to die! But, now
what I want to know, Doc, is what are we goin' to do about that saddle
and money? The posse will be here soon as the creek falls."
"Suppose I take charge of it and consult an attorney," suggested Powell
after a few minutes' thought. "We have no absolute proof that it
belonged to Paddy. As he had no heirs I am rather at sea about the
proper procedure."
"All right. I'm goin' to take that saddle of King's and bury it,"
asserted Limber. "Thar ain't no use shoutin' about it now. Glen's dead
and 'twon't do King no good, and Mrs. Glendon's got enough trouble to
pack without havin' this extra bunch."
Powell returned to the house and told Chappo to go to bed. Out where the
brush grew most thickly, Limber dug a deep hole like a small grave, and
Doctor King's saddle was covered, while the steadily pouring rain
obliterated all tell-tale marks of disturbed earth.
As the hours passed, the thunder grew faint and fainter; the lightning
ceased; the rain fell in a soft patter, like children's voices
whispering in the night. A dim, grey light mingled with the darkness of
the sky, sleepy chirps and twitters sounded from rain-soaked nests, the
pink fingers of Morning reached out and caressed the tips of the
mountains.
Down the canyon near the crossing a man stood waiting to guard the woman
he loved from knowledge of what had happened in the night. The rushing
torrent was fast subsiding.
He lifted his head at the sound of galloping hoofs and men's voices,
then he turned and looked down at the posse from Willcox. They reached
the opposite bank of the stream and let the reins fall loosely on their
ponies' necks as they recognized Limber.
"Hello, Limber! You was lucky to get here last night," called the
leader. "We all were stuck at the mouth of the canyon till this morning.
Seen any signs of Glendon?"
Limber was among them now. "Yep. He's on the road between here and the
Circle Cross," was the answer.
"All right. Much obliged. Hurry up boys;" but Limber's upheld hand made
them pause.
"You all don't need to hurry. Glen's dead. Lightnin' hit him and his
horse. Mrs. Glendon's up here. She's sick and don't know nothin' about
it yet. Doctor Powell is goin' to take her over to the Diamond H Ranch
this mornin' to Mrs. Traynor."
"Gosh! It's sure tough on her anyway you put it."
"Is there anything we can do for her?" asked the leader of the posse.
"Jest don't let her know you're here, and try to manage so's to get
Glendon away without her seein' him. That's all."
"We'll sure do that, Limber. She's a fine woman and we're glad to do
anything we can for her. Glendon was no good to any one. Not even to
himself."
"Juan is away with the Circle Cross team, but I'll send Chappo down with
the wagon," were Limber's last words as the posse rode slowly down the
canyon.