Personally Escorted
Before they reached the mouth of the canon, Dave was supporting the
slack body of his friend. When the party came to the aspens, Beulah
hurried forward, and by the time the two men emerged she was waiting
for them with Blacky.
Roy protested at taking the horse, but the girl cut short his
objections imperiously.
"Do you think we've only your silly pride to consider? I want you out
of the park--where my people can't reach you. I'm going to see you get
out. After that I don't care what you do."
Moonlight fell upon the sardonic smile on the pitifully white face of
the young man. "I'm to be personally conducted by the Queen of
Huerfano. That's great. I certainly appreciate the honor."
With the help of Dingwell he pulled himself to the saddle. The
exertion started a spurt of warm blood at the shoulder, but Roy
clenched his teeth and clung to the pommel to steady himself. The
cattleman led the horse and Beulah walked beside him.
"I can get another pony for you at Cameron's," she explained. "Just
above there is a short cut by way of Dolores Sinks. You ought to be
across the divide before morning. I'll show you the trail."
What story she told to get the horse from Cameron her companions did
not know, but from where they waited in the pines they saw the
flickering light of a lantern cross to the stable. Presently Beulah
rode up to them on the hillside above the ranch.
By devious paths she led them through chaparral and woodland.
Sometimes they followed her over hills and again into gulches. The
girl "spelled" Dingwell at riding the second horse, but whether in the
saddle or on foot her movements showed such swift certainty that Dave
was satisfied she knew where she was going.
Twice she stopped to rest the wounded man, who was now clinging with
both hands to the saddle-horn. But the hard gleam of her dark eyes
served notice that she was moved by expediency and not sympathy.
It was midnight when at last she stopped near the entrance to the pass.
"The road lies straight before you over the divide. You can't miss it.
Once on the other side keep going till you get into the foothills. All
trails will take you down," she told Dingwell.
"We're a heap obliged to you, Miss Rutherford," answered Dingwell. "I
reckon neither one of us is liable to forget what you've done for us."
She flamed. "I've nothing against you, Mr. Dingwell, but you might as
well know that what I've done was for my people. I don't want them to
get into trouble. If it hadn't been for that--"
"You'd 'a' done it just the same," the cattleman finished for her with
a smile. "You can't make me mad to-night after going the limit for us
the way you have."
Beaudry, sagging over the horn of the saddle, added his word timidly,
but the Rutherford girl would have none of his thanks.
"You don't owe me anything, I tell you. How many times have I got to
say that it is nothing to me what becomes of you?" she replied,
flushing angrily. "All I ask is that you don't cross my path again.
Next time I'll let Jess Tighe have his way."
"I didn't go into the park to spy on your people, Miss Rutherford. I
went to--"
"I care nothing about why you came." The girl turned to Dingwell, her
chin in the air. "Better let him rest every mile or two. I don't want
him breaking down in our country after all the trouble I've taken."
"You may leave him to me. I'll look out for him," Dave promised.
"Just so that you don't let him get caught again," she added.
Her manner was cavalier, her tone almost savage. Without another word
she turned and left them.
Dingwell watched her slim form disappear into the night.
"Did you ever see such a little thoroughbred?" he asked admiringly. "I
take off my hat to her. She's the gamest kid I ever met--and pretty as
they grow. Just think of her pulling off this getaway to-night. It
was a man-size job, and that little girl never turned a hair from start
to finish. And loyal! By Gad! Hal Rutherford hasn't earned fidelity
like that, even if he has been father and mother to her since she was a
year old. He'd ought to send her away from that hell-hole and give her
a chance."
"What will they do to her when she gets back?"
Dave chuckled. "They can't do a thing. That's the beauty of it.
There'll be a lot of tall cussing in Huerfano for a while, but after
Hal has onloaded what's on his chest he'll stand between her and the
rest."
"Sure of that?"
"It's a cinch." The cattleman laughed softly. "But ain't she the
little spitfire? I reckon she sure hates you thorough."
Roy did not answer. He was sliding from the back of his horse in a
faint.
When Beaudry opened his eyes again, Dingwell was pouring water into his
mouth from a canteen that had been hanging to the pommel of Miss
Rutherford's saddle.
"Was I unconscious?" asked the young man in disgust.
"That's whatever. Just you lie there, son, whilst I fix these bandages
up for you again."
The cattleman moistened the hot cloths with cold water and rearranged
them.
"We ought to be hurrying on," Roy suggested, glancing anxiously down
the steep ascent up which they had ridden.
"No rush a-tall," Dave assured him cheerfully. "We got all the time
there is. Best thing to do is to loaf along and take it easy."
"But they'll be on our trail as soon as they know we've gone. They'll
force Miss Rutherford to tell which way we came."
Dingwell grinned. "Son, did you ever look into that girl's eyes? They
look right at you, straight and unafraid. The Huerfano Park outfit
will have a real merry time getting her to tell anything she doesn't
want to. When she gets her neck bowed, I'll bet she's some sot. Might
as well argue with a government mule. She'd make a right interesting
wife for some man, but he'd have to be a humdinger to hold his end
up--six foot of man, lots of patience, and sense enough to know he'd
married a woman out of 'steen thousand."
Young Beaudry was not contemplating matrimony. His interest just now
was centered in getting as far from the young woman and her relatives
as possible.
"When young Rutherford finds he has been sold, there will be the deuce
to pay," urged Roy.
"Will there? I dunno. Old man Rutherford ain't going to be so awfully
keen to get us back on his hands. We worried him a heap. Miss Beulah
lifted two heavy weights off'n his mind. I'm one and you're the other.
O' course, he'll start the boys out after us to square himself with
Tighe and Meldrum. He's got to do that. They're sure going to be busy
bees down in the Huerfano hive. The Rutherford boys are going to do a
lot of night-riding for quite some time. But I expect Hal won't give
them orders to bring us in dead or alive. There is no premium on our
pelts."
Roy spent a nervous half-hour before his friend would let him mount
again--and he showed it. The shrewd eyes of the old cattleman
appraised him. Already he guessed some of the secrets of this young
man's heart.
Dave swung to the left into the hills so as to get away from the beaten
trails after they had crossed the pass. He rode slowly, with a careful
eye upon his companion. Frequently he stopped to rest in spite of
Roy's protests.
Late in the afternoon they came to a little mountain ranch owned by a
nester who had punched cattle for Dave in the old days. Now he was
doing a profitable business himself in other men's calves. He had
started with a branding-iron and a flexible conscience. He still had
both of them, together with a nice little bunch of cows that beat the
world's records for fecundity.
It was not exactly the place Dingwell would have chosen to go into
hiding, but he had to take what he could get. Roy, completely
exhausted, was already showing a fever. He could not possibly travel
farther.
With the casual confidence that was one of his assets Dave swung from
his horse and greeted the ranchman.
"'Lo, Hart! Can we roost here to-night? My friend got thrown and hurt
his shoulder. He's all in."
The suspicious eyes of the nester passed over Beaudry and came back to
Dingwell.
"I reckon so," he said, not very graciously. "We're not fixed for
company, but if you'll put up with what we've got--"
"Suits us fine. My friend's name is Beaudry. I'll get him right to
bed."
Roy stayed in bed for forty-eight hours. His wound was only a slight
one and the fever soon subsided. The third day he was sunning himself
on the porch. Dave had gone on a little jaunt to a water-hole to shoot
hooters for supper. Mrs. Hart was baking bread inside. Her husband
had left before daybreak and was not yet back. He was looking for
strays, his wife said.
In the family rocking-chair Roy was reading a torn copy of "Martin
Chuzzlewit." How it had reached this haven was a question, since it
was the only book in the house except a Big Creek bible, as the
catalogue of a mail-order house is called in that country. Beaudry
resented the frank, insolent observations of Dickens on the manners of
Americans. In the first place, the types were not true to life. In
the second place--
The young man heard footsteps coming around the corner of the house.
He glanced up carelessly--and his heart seemed to stop beating.
He was looking into the barrel of a revolver pointed straight at him.
Back of the weapon was the brutal, triumphant face of Meldrum. It was
set in a cruel grin that showed two rows of broken, tobacco-stained
teeth.
"By God! I've got you. Git down on yore knees and beg, Mr. Spy. I'm
going to blow yore head off in just thirty seconds."
Not in his most unbridled moments had Dickens painted a bully so
appalling as this one. This man was a notorious "killer" and the lust
of murder was just now on him. Young Beaudry's brain reeled. It was
only by an effort that he pulled himself back from the unconsciousness
into which he was swimming.