Having no wish to pry into Mr. Davenport’s affairs any further than
he was willing to reveal them to us, we did not question the invalid,
although there were some points in his story that I should have liked
to have cleared up. He seemed to know that ’Rastus Johnson was employed
by Clifford Henderson, and I wanted to know what reason he had for
thinking so; but he was sadly used up by his talking, and settled back
in his chair in a state of complete exhaustion. It was this state that
troubled me. I began to think that when his time came to go he would go
suddenly.
Presently Bob came up accompanied by Elam. I strolled off to find
’Rastus Johnson. You see I was as much interested in that pocket-book
Mr. Davenport carried in his coat as I was in anything else. ’Rastus
Johnson must have known that he carried it there, and if anything
should happen while the invalid was alone the pocket-book would be
found missing; and without a will where would Bob be? Henderson could
claim his property as next of kin, and Bob would be left out in the
cold. I knew that Tom understood all this as well as I did. At any rate
I would speak to him about it the very first chance I had, and arrange
it with him so as to keep Mr. Davenport under guard the whole time.
It did not take me long to find ’Rastus Johnson. The ranch stood on the
edge of a little grove, and there, under one of the trees, I found the
man of whom I was in search. His hat was pulled over his eyes, as if he
were fast asleep, and the belt containing his revolvers lay near him
on the ground. Evidently they had just received an extra rubbing. He
started up as he heard my footsteps and pulled the hat off his face.
“Oh, it’s you, is it?” said he, with a long-drawn yawn. “How-dy. What
does the old man have to say to you? He says more to you than he has
to me, and I’ve been on this ranch for three months.”
“Yes, he has had a good deal to say to Tom and me. He has been telling
us about the threats of Clifford Henderson. Seen anything of him
lately?” I asked, as if I didn’t care whether or not he answered my
question.
I asked this abruptly, as I meant to do, and the answer I got set all
my doubts at rest. The man was in the employ of Henderson--that was a
fact; and while he used his own time in getting his wits about him,
I busied myself in giving him a good looking over. He was a giant in
strength and stature, long haired and full bearded, and when he sat up
and looked at me, I knew I was looking into the eyes of a desperado
of the worst sort. His clothes were not in keeping with the story of
poverty he had told when he first came to Mr. Davenport’s ranch. They
were whole and clean, and his high-top boots looked as though they had
just come from the hands of the maker. There was something about the
man that made me think he was wanted somewhere else--that there was a
rope in keeping for him, if the parties who held it only knew where
to find him. He looked at me for fully a minute without speaking, then
rested his elbows on his knees and looked down at the ground.
“I don’t know the man,” said he, and he spoke so that anybody could
have told that he was angry.
“There is no need of getting huffy about it,” said I carelessly. “Where
is he now?”
“I tell you I am not acquainted with the man,” said he. “Henderson! I
never heard the name before.”
“No offence, I hope; but I thought from the way you acted that you
were in his employ. Be honest now, and tell me when you have seen him
lately.”
“How have I acted?” enquired the man.
“Oh, snooping around the ranch and trying to find out things that are
not intended for you to know,” I answered carelessly. “You know you
have been doing that ever since you have been here, and Mr. Davenport
is sorry that he ever consented to let you remain.”
“Did he tell you what I have done?”
“There is but one thing he could put his finger upon, and that was when
you tried to pick the lock of his desk.”
“I never----” began Johnson.
“If you had got into it you wouldn’t have made anything by it. The
man’s papers are safe.”
“I know he carries them on his person, and he’s got a little revolver
handy, bless the luck. There now, I have let the cat out of the bag!
There’s no one around who can hear what we say, is there? Sit down.”
I tell you things were going a great deal further than I meant to have
them. I had come out there on purpose to induce Johnson to drop a
hint whether or not he was in Clifford Henderson’s employ, but I had
succeeded almost too well. It looked as though the man was going to
take me into his confidence. It was a dangerous piece of business, too,
for I knew if I did anything out of the way, I would be the mark for
the bullets in one of Johnson’s shining revolvers.
“I don’t see why I should sit down,” I replied.
“Sit down a minute; I want to talk to you. You have had bad luck with
your cattle,” said the man, as I picked out a comfortable place to seat
myself. “You once possessed a large drove, but they were taken away
from you at one pop.”
“That’s so,” I said. “If I could find the men who did it, I wouldn’t
ask the law to take any stock in them. I would take it into my own
hands.”
“Well, I don’t know anything about that,” said the man. “I wasn’t
there, although, to tell you the truth, I have been in at the bouncing
of more than one herd of cattle that was all ready to drive to market.”
“What got you in this business, anyway?” I asked suddenly.
“What business?”
“Oh, you know as well as I do. A man of your education can make a
living a great deal easier than you do.”
“Look a-here, young fellow, I did not agree to make a confidant of you
in everything. Perhaps I will do that after a while. What I want to get
at now is this: Are you willing to work with me to have this property
go where it belongs?”
“Where does it belong?”
“You mentioned the name of the man not two minutes ago--Clifford
Henderson.”
“Aha! You do know that man, don’t you?”
“Yes; and now you know my secret, for I have got a secret as well as
the old man,” said Johnson; and as he spoke he reached out and pulled
his six shooters within easy handling distance, turning the butt of one
up, so that he could catch it at a moment’s warning.
Now, I suppose some of my readers will think I was in no danger about
that time, but I knew I was. My life hung upon the words I uttered
during the next few minutes. If I had refused I would never have known
what hurt me. Johnson would have shot me down and then reported to Mr.
Davenport that I had insulted him; and as there was no one present to
overhear our conversation, that would have been the last of it. Law
was not as potent then as it is in Texas in our day, and Johnson’s
unsupported word would have been taken, there being no evidence to the
contrary. I tell you I was in something of a fix.
“How does it come that Henderson has so much interest in this
property?” I enquired.
“Why, Bob is no relative of Davenport’s at all. He picked him up in the
gold mines,--where his father died and left him,--named him Davenport,
and the boy has been brought up to believe that he has an interest in
all his stocks and bonds. I wish I had known a little more about that
when I came here. I told the old man some funny stories about my being
in the gold mines,” he added, with a laugh.
“And Henderson doesn’t want him to have it. It seems to me that it
would be the part of policy for Henderson to come here and live with
Mr. Davenport.”
“Oh, that wouldn’t do at all!” exclaimed the man hastily. “He used
to live with him in St. Louis, but they had an awful row when they
separated, and he is afraid the old man will go to work to adopt the
boy. I tell you he don’t want him to do that!”
“It seems very strange that Mr. Davenport hasn’t adopted him before
this time.”
“I lay it to his illness as much as anything. Like all persons who are
troubled with an incurable disease, he thinks something will happen
to take him off the minute he adopts Bob, and I tell you it’s a lucky
thing for us. Well, what do you say?”
“I don’t propose to go into this thing until I know how much there is
to be made out of it,” I answered, as if I had half a mind to go into
it. “How much are you going to get?”
“I am not going to take my pay in half-starved cattle, I tell you,”
said Johnson emphatically. “The old man has a few thousand dollars in
bonds in some bank or another,--I don’t know which one it is,--and when
I get that pocket-book in my hands I shall get some of those bonds. I
won’t let it go without it. He ought to give you as much as he gives
me.”
“How much are you going to get?” I said again.
“Twenty thousand dollars; and what I want more than anything else is
that pocket-book. He has got his will in there, and I must have that
before anything is done. Now, if you can steal that pocket-book and
give it to me, I’ll see that you are well paid for your trouble. If
Henderson gives you five thousand dollars it would go a long way toward
straightening up your cattle business.”
“Well, I want some time to think about it. It is a pretty dangerous
piece of work.”
“Take your own time. We shall not go off until next week. You won’t say
anything to Bob or the old man about it?”
“Never a word,” I replied, hoping that he wouldn’t ask me to keep
still where Tom and Elam were concerned. I couldn’t possibly get
along without taking them into my confidence, for although it was new
business to them, I felt the want of a little good advice.
“Because if you do--if I see you riding off alone with either one of
those fellows I shall know what you are up to, and then good-by to all
your chance of getting any money.”
“You need have no fear,” said I, getting upon my feet. “I shall not say
a word to either one of them.”
I walked slowly toward the ranch, feeling as if I had signed my own
death warrant. There was no bluster about Johnson, he wasn’t that
sort; but I knew that I not only would lose all chances of getting any
money by going off riding with Mr. Davenport or Bob, but I would lose
my chance of life. I would be shot down at once the first time I was
caught alone, and, with all my practice at revolver drawing,--that
is, pulling it at a moment’s warning,--I would not stand any show at
all. These Texans are a little bit quicker than cats when it comes to
drawing anything.
“Of all the impudence and scandalous things that I ever heard of,
that ’Rastus Johnson is the beat,” I soliloquized as I walked toward
the house, wondering what I should do when I got there. “A man comes
out to steal a will from another man and pitches upon me, an entire
stranger, because I have had ill luck with my cattle. Of course I have
no intention of doing anything of the kind, but if something should
happen to get this fellow into serious trouble---- By gracious! if this
man was lynched he could take me with him.”
When I reached the ranch and mounted the steps that led to the porch
I found Tom and Elam sitting there alone. Mr. Davenport had talked
himself into a state of complete exhaustion and had gone in to take a
nap, taking Bob with him as guard. In order to secure the quietness he
wanted they had closed the door after them. I felt that now was my only
chance. I saw by the look of surprise on Elam’s face that Tom had been
hurriedly whispering to him what Mr. Davenport had told us.
“Where have you been?” enquired Tom. “We have been waiting half an hour
for you.”
“Is it a fact that this Johnson has been working for Clifford
Henderson?” exclaimed Elam. “If I was in Davenport’s place I would
drive him off the ranch.”
“Sh--! Don’t talk so loud,” I admonished him. “I’ve been gone half an
hour, and during that time I have heard some things that will astonish
you. I have learned that Johnson is in Henderson’s employ, and that he
wants me to act as his accomplice.”
I uttered these words in a whisper, thinking of the listening ones
there might be on the other side of that door, and when I got through I
tiptoed first to one end of the porch and then to the other to keep a
lookout for Johnson. I was afraid of the “snooping” qualities that the
fellow had developed, and if he had suddenly come around the corner of
the house and caught me in the act of whispering to my friends I would
not have been at all surprised at it. Tom and Elam were both amazed at
what I had told them, and looked at one another with a blank expression
on their faces.
“Tom, he wants me to steal that pocket-book Mr. Davenport showed us
to-day,” I continued. “He says the will is in there and he can’t
do anything without it. He says the property rightfully belongs to
Henderson.”
“If I were in your place I would go right straight to Mr. Davenport
with it,” said Tom, speaking in a whisper this time.
“And be shot for your trouble,” chimed in Elam, waking up to the
emergencies of the case.
“That’s the idea, exactly,” I went on. “He would shoot me down as
soon as he would look at me, and then report to Mr. Davenport that I
had insulted him; then what could anybody do about it? You fellows
would have to shoot him, and that would end the matter. I promised I
wouldn’t say anything to Bob or his father about it, but I had a mental
reservation in my mind when it came to you. Now I want to know what I
shall do about it.”
“Tell us the whole thing, and then perhaps we can pass judgment upon
it,” whispered Tom. “I don’t know that I understand you.”
With that I began, and gave the boys a full history of my short
interview with Johnson. It didn’t take long, for I did not hold a very
long conversation with ’Rastus; and when I came to tell how readily
he had included me in his plans I saw Elam wink and nod his head in a
very peculiar manner. Then I knew that I had hit the nail squarely on
the head when I made up my mind what ’Rastus would do to me if things
didn’t work as he thought they ought to. I tiptoed to the end of the
porch to see if I could discover any signs of him, and then I came
back.
“You see he knows that I have had bad luck with my cattle, and he takes
it for granted that I am down on everybody who has been fortunate with
theirs,” I said, in conclusion. “He thinks I want to steal enough to
make up for my lost herd.”
“The idea is ridiculous,” said Tom. “How in the world does he suppose
Mr. Davenport had anything to do with your loss?”
“That aint neither here nor there,” said Elam. “That feller has stolen
more than one herd of cattle, an’ I’ll bet on it. I shouldn’t wonder if
he was one of them desperate fellows--what do you call them----”
“Desperadoes,” suggested Tom.
“I know he is,” said I. “And he is a man of education. He doesn’t talk
as the Texans do at all, and I told him that a person of his learning
could make a living easier than he did.”
“What did he say to that?”
“He said he didn’t agree to make a confidant of me in everything. He
might do it after a while. He acknowledged that he had been in at
the stealing of more than one herd that was all ready to be driven to
market. Now, fellows, what shall I do about it?”
This was too much for Tom, who settled back in his chair and looked at
Elam. Our backwoods friend arose to the emergency, and I considered his
advice as good as any that could be given.
“You can’t do nothing about it,” he said, after rubbing his chin
thoughtfully for a few minutes. “Let him go his way, an’ you go yours.”
“Yes; and then see what will happen to me if I don’t do as he says.
Suppose he thinks I have had time to steal that pocket-book? If I don’t
give it over to him, then what?”
“Tell him that Mr. Davenport keeps a guard over it all the while,” said
Elam, “an’ that you can get no chance. Heavings an’ ’arth! I only wish
I was in your boots.”
“I wish to goodness you were,” said I. “What would you do?”
“I’d let him go his way, an’ I’d go mine. That’s all I should do.”
“I guess that’s the best I could do under the circumstances,” said I,
after thinking the matter over. “By the way, I think it is about time
you two went out on your ride. I am of the opinion that it will be
safer so. Leave me here alone, so that when Johnson comes up---- I do
not believe his name is Johnson; do you?”
“’Tain’t nary one of his names, that name aint,” said Elam
emphatically. “His name is Coyote Bill.”
“How do you know?” Tom and I managed to ask in concert.
“I aint never seen the man; I aint done nothing but hear about him
since I have been here, but I know he is Coyote Bill,” replied Elam
doggedly. “At any rate that’s the way I should act if I was him.”
Coyote Bill was emphatically a name for us to be afraid of. We had
done little else than listen to the stories of his exploits since we
had been in Texas. He didn’t do anything very bad, but he would steal
a herd of cattle,--it didn’t make much difference how many men there
were to guard them,--run them off to a little oasis there was in the
Staked Plains, and slaughter them for their hides and tallow; and when
the story of the theft had been forgotten, two of his men would carry
the proceeds of their hunt to some place and sell them. He never killed
men unless they resisted, and then he shot them down without ceremony.
Many a time have we sat on the porch after dark when the cowboys were
there, listening to the stories about him, and if this man was Coyote
Bill he must have been highly amused at some things that were said
about him. We were both inclined to doubt the story of his identity. No
one had ever seen Coyote Bill, and how could Elam tell what he looked
like?
“Elam, you are certainly mistaken,” said I; and the more I thought of
his story the less credit I put in it. “If you had seen Coyote Bill I
should be tempted to believe you; but you know you have never met him.”
“And then just think what he has done?” added Tom. “He comes up here
and agrees with Carlos, a man whom he had never seen before, to go
in cahoots with him. The idea is ridiculous. And how did Clifford
Henderson fall in with him?”
“I don’t know anything about that,” returned Elam, as if his mind
was fully made up. “I’ll tell you what I’ll do: I’ll bet that Carlos
dassent call him Coyote Bill to his face!”
“You may safely bet that, for I aint going to do it,” said I, looking
around the corner of the house. “Here he comes, boys. You had better
get on your horses and make tracks away from here.”
The boys lost no time in getting off the porch and to their horses,
which they had left standing close by with their bridles down, so that
they would not stray away. They swung themselves into their saddles
with all haste, and I sat down to await the coming of Coyote Bill, if
that was his real name, and to think over what I had heard.