RESCUE
Darkness found Gale in much the same position she had occupied through
the rainstorm, standing beside her horse and gently stroking his nozzle.
The rain had stopped but she was uncomfortably wet. She wondered whether
this was a climate where one caught colds easily. If so, she would
probably have a dandy tomorrow. The horse shifted his feet impatiently
and nudged her shoulder.
She smiled at him. “Impatient to be off, old boy? So am I. Something
tells me that this is going to be a night of excitement. I wonder if I’m
being foolhardy in spying on these fellows. I might be, you know,” she
said seriously to the horse. He nodded his head as though in agreement.
“Oh, so you think I’m foolhardy, do you? But on the other hand, I might
be able to help Uncle. What do you think, old fellow?”
The horse shook his head and whinnied softly. “Please don’t do that,”
she said hastily, a hand on his nose. “If you make such a noise you
might bring those men out to investigate and that wouldn’t be lucky for
either you or me.”
The stars came out and with them the moon. The bright moonlight made
Gale frown in annoyance. Any other time she would have marveled at the
white radiance of Mr. Moon, but now it was indiscreet. The cabin where
she was to do her spying stood squarely in the center of a large patch
of moonlight. There would be no skulking in darkness close to it. If she
hoped to get close enough to peer in a window or to hear what was being
said, she would not only have to cross that moonlit space but to stand
in the white light, clearly visible to anyone coming to the cabin. Well,
she had made up her mind what she wanted to do and now she was going
through with it.
She wondered what her friends were thinking at her absence. She wished
there was some way she could let them know she was safe and sound. But
in an hour or two she would be on her way back to them with information
that might be valuable. She wished she had a good supper, though. That
was what ailed her horse too, he was hungry.
Through the trees she could see that there was a light in the cabin and
smoke curled from the chimney. Loud voices too, could be heard. Perhaps
they were planning something this very minute. Making sure her horse was
securely tied to a tree, Gale started slowly toward the cabin. It would
be a ticklish business and goodness knew what might happen if she was
caught. She approached the rear of the cabin but it was no good to take
up a post here. The window was too high for her to see in and the voices
were merely an indistinguishable blur through the thick wall.
Before the cabin stood six horses, reins hanging and their heads drooped
forward. Six horses! That meant there were six riders in the cabin.
Coming around the corner of the cabin, Gale trod heavily on a twig and
it snapped loudly. She stood still on the verge of flight, her heart
racing. But when no one came she realized that they were making too much
noise to hear such a slight sound. Evidently it was an occasion for
celebration for they all seemed in high spirits.
The window where she had meant to make her observations was closed but
the door stood ajar. It was perilous looking in at the window, for any
moment one of them might glance toward the glass and see her. Gale
discovered that, pressed flat against the wall beside the open door, she
could hear everything being said, though she could not see the
occupants. It was the latter position that she took. Making herself as
flat as possible against the rough logs, so there was scarcely risk of
detection as long as the men remained indoors, Gale strained her ears to
make sense of the conversation.
Suddenly their voices lowered, tones became confiding and mysterious.
Now Gale could distinguish only snatches of what was being said. She
slid a little closer to the open door.
“Pedro will stay here,” one man said sternly. “Three of you will tend to
the cows and the two of us will scout around to that dude camp and see
what’s goin’ on.”
Gale wondered if there was another party of easterners camping in the
hills, or did those words “dude camp” apply to her and her friends?
Quite possibly they did. But why were these men interested in what they
did?
“They’re too near the cattle to suit me,” one of the other outlaws said
in a deep rumbling voice. “Suppose they see us? Then they’ll be able to
give a nice little description to the Sheriff.”
He didn’t sound like an original westerner, Gale thought. More like a
gangster of the movie type. Another voice joined in, soft and slurring.
A Mexican, probably a half-breed, she decided mentally. For a while she
could catch no more of what they said and then only a word here and
there. But finally she knew enough that they planned to steal more of
the K Bar O cattle. Should she go now and tell Jim and Tom so they could
forestall the thieves? No, she would wait longer. Perhaps there was
something more she could learn. Where they were taking the cattle for
instance. As though in reply to her thoughts, the Mexican spoke again.
“You should have the cows across the border by morning.”
But there seemed to be some little dispute about this. Three of the men
started arguing. There was a step near her and a man’s shadow fell on
the ground where the light from the doorway streamed out. He was
standing in the doorway looking across to the trees. If he turned an
inch more in her direction he would see her. Gale held her breath and
leaned stiffly against the wall. He must hear her heart beating so
loudly. It sounded like thunder in her own ears. Tossing his cigarette
out to the ground the man turned and stepped back into the cabin again.
Gale almost sank to the ground in sheer relief. Pure luck, that was all
it had been, that kept the man from sensing her presence. If he had
stepped just a bit farther out, or turned just a bit more in her
direction, she would have been discovered. And then what would have
happened? She refused to think about that. Cautiously she moved a few
paces away from the door. There was no need for her to invite exposure.
Heavy steps sounded in the cabin and with lightning rapidity Gale
disappeared around the corner of the building and none too soon. Two of
the riders strode to their horses and mounted.
“Follow in an hour, Shorty,” one of them called and the two departed.
Were they the two who were going to investigate the camp, she wondered.
She hoped her friends would have some warning of the men’s approach and
were able to prepare themselves. She would like to have followed them
but she meant to stick here and see what happened. The rustlers were
leaving one man at the cabin. Why? What further than robbery did they
plot? Were they planning to return here and use the cabin as their
hiding place after the K Bar O cattle were safely across the border? If
that was it, she wanted to know so she could send the Sheriff and his
men here and be sure it was no wild goose chase.
The moon was high overhead and moving slowly toward the west. Gale had
no means of knowing what time it was for she wore no wrist watch, but
she judged it to be about midnight. She would say it was an hour since
the two riders had left, but still the other three had not followed
them. The four of them were having a high old time, she reflected as a
loud laugh floated out to her. She seated herself on the ground and
leaned against the wall. Might as well be comfortable while she waited
for something to happen. She was at the side, safe from immediate
discovery should they come out without warning. But it would be better
not to remain seated here, should she hear them, for it might just
happen that they would come around this side.
Suddenly the loud talking came to an end and there was a scraping as of
chairs on the floor. Three men came to the door and walked leisurely to
their horses. Gale was peeping around from the back of the cabin now and
she watched them as they rode away. There remained now only one man in
the cabin. Cautiously she went around to the window at the front. Slowly
she brought her eyes up to the level of the windowsill and gazed in. The
Mexican--she had been right as to his nationality she realized now--sat
before the fireplace, his chair tilted back, his feet propped on the
table. In his hands he held a stick of wood and a knife and he whistled
as he sent the chips flying. His profile was toward Gale and she
shivered at the ugliness of his countenance.
“Wouldn’t like to meet him in a dark alley,” she reflected to herself as
she studied him. A long scar ran down his cheek, making his profile even
more repulsive than it would ordinarily have been. “Something definite
with which to identify him, that scar,” she told herself as she left the
window.
The moon as it moved westward caused a dark, heavy shadow on the far
side of the cabin and Gale stepped into its protecting blackness. A
sudden thought of her horse occurred to her and she went back to where
he was tied to see if he was secure and safe. There was no telling when
she might want him in a hurry. She might have to leave suddenly, she
thought humorously. She returned to the cabin and sat down in the
protecting shadow. She wondered if there was a harder thing in the world
than the job of waiting. Her eyes were growing uncomfortably heavy and
the danger of falling asleep was very near. She smothered a yawn and
stood up. If she fell asleep now!
What was that? The gallop of hoofs? It was. And they were coming to the
cabin here. Who was it? The outlaws coming back from their nightly
marauding? Or could it, by some inconceivable magic, be Tom or Jim
looking for her? Somehow she had not expected them to. At any rate not
at night. Of course if she didn’t return to camp by the morning, no
doubt they would go out to look for her. But she planned to be safely
among them by morning. Meanwhile, those horses were drawing nearer. At
last they came into the moonlight from the direction she herself had
come early that afternoon.
There were two horses but it looked as though one horse was carrying a
double load. Gale’s interest was aroused. Who was it? The horses were
pulled up short in front of the cabin and Gale flattened herself against
the wall. She did not have as good a view of the new arrivals as she
might have wished for, but she could catch glimpses of them and she
could hear their voices. Right now they seemed anything but pleased.
They were having trouble with something--or someone.
“Let me go!”
Out of the thin air, it seemed to Gale, she heard Valerie’s voice.
Valerie here! How did she get here? Was she on the horse with one of the
outlaws? That must be the explanation of the double burden one of the
horses was carrying. In some way, the men had kidnapped Valerie and
brought her here. Gale rejoiced inwardly now that she had stayed, but
her heart leapt and her hands clenched the next second when she heard
what sounded like a slap and a half smothered scream from Valerie.
“Maybe that’ll keep you quiet for a while,” one of the men said.
Gale longed to rush out and interfere on Valerie’s behalf but she knew
how foolish that would be. She could only wait for an opportunity and
pray that they did not seriously harm Val. That it should be Valerie
made it all the more tragic in Gale’s estimation. If it had been Phyllis
or Madge or Virginia, one more able to stand rough handling and
hardship, Gale would have been more optimistic about her chances. But
with Val she was worried. She, Gale, had to help her friend, but how?
Carefully she approached her post by the window and looked in. Valerie
was seated in a chair by the fireplace and the Mexican was approaching
with two straps from the saddle lying in the corner. He proceeded to
strap Val’s hands to the chair posts. The other two riders watched him
for a moment and then came toward the door. Gale hastily retreated and
did not appear again until their horses were lost in the black trees.
Back at the window she watched, while the Mexican walked slowly around
his captive, deliberately appraising her. The door was closed and she
could not hear what was being said, but it was evident that Valerie was
saying uncomplimentary things for the breed’s face was growing blacker
and blacker with rage.
It was Gale’s intention to call the Mexican from the cabin on some ruse
and while he was out slip in and cut Val free. But for that purpose she
would need a knife. She ran back to her horse. In her saddle bag she
carried a knife and, while she was here, it would be just as well to
move her horse up closer to the cabin. If she and Val had to make a dash
for it, it would be well not to have to run too far. Leaving her horse
standing at the rim of the open space where the cabin was, she
approached the window again. Now she had to think of a ruse to get the
Mexican out of the cabin.
The light in the cabin was from the fire in the fireplace and from two
lanterns which cast a sickly yellow glow over the occupants of the
building and the meager furnishings. Gale could see the Mexican bending
over Val, leering at her. She could see Val’s bright eyes and flushed
cheeks. Whatever the Mexican was saying to taunt her, it had thoroughly
aroused Val’s temper. She saw Val’s lips move and wished desperately
that she might hear what the girl said. But the walls of the cabin were
thick and the windows and doors closed, effectively smothering all
sound. The Mexican’s hand shot out and struck Val a heavy blow across
the cheek, bringing a dark red stain to the white skin.
Gale saw Val’s head droop until her chin rested on her chest. What was
wrong? Was she going to cry now, of all times? It was just what the
Mexican wanted, to make her grovel. Evidently the Mexican thought he had
subdued all signs of rebellion in his fair prisoner for he bent closer
with a sneering smile. But it was a trick! When the Mexican bent over,
Val’s foot shot up and kicked him hard in the pit of the stomach. He
stumbled backward, doubled over in pain.
Gale could have danced in delight. Three cheers for Val! Her fighting
blood was up. Gale found herself a little surprised at Val’s daring. Val
had more courage than the girls had given her credit for. But now would
come a reckoning. The Mexican was straightening up, his face still
contorted with pain, and drawing a knife from his belt. He took two
steps toward Val, caressing the knife with loving fingers. If Val was
afraid, she gave no sign of it and for that Gale admired her all the
more. She was quite well aware that had she been in Val’s place she
would have been scared green. The Mexican looked awfully intent on doing
a bit of carving.
As for Val, she was frightened. The light in the half-breed’s eyes and
the way he held the knife sent little shivers up her back. She twisted
vainly at the bonds about her hands. Must she sit here while he stuck
his knife into her? But for all her terror, she gave no sign of it. Her
head was high and her gaze steady.
“Ah! You are brave my leetle one!” the Mexican said with his slurring
accent. “But you weel not be so brave w’en I have--what eez that?”
To Val’s ears it sounded like hoofbeats. She prayed earnestly that it
was. Even if it was but the other two bandits coming back, it would
delay the Mexican’s knife a little longer.
Gale, recognizing that the Mexican sought revenge for that kick and was
intent upon securing that revenge with his knife, cast about quickly for
some means of getting him from the cabin. Her eyes came round from the
window to the Mexican’s horse standing meekly a few paces away. She
crossed to him, pulled the reins up over his head and gave him a sharp
slap on the flank. The horse started forward with a jerk and Gale
disappeared around the side of the cabin. With the sound of the
hoofbeats the door of the cabin was pulled open and the Mexican stepped
to the ground. Gale could see him staring after his horse, but he made
no effort to chase the animal as she had hoped he would. He stood there
for several minutes until the horse had disappeared and then with a
smothered exclamation of disgust or wrath stalked back into the cabin.
Her ruse had failed. He didn’t apparently care what happened to his
horse. Now what was she going to do? Val needed help and she, Gale, must
do something. She didn’t have time to go for Jim or Tom. She would have
to handle the Mexican herself, and hope that she and Val would have a
fighting chance. If he should foil her attempt at rescue, then they
would both be his helpless prisoners and anything might happen! She
laughed nervously at her own lack of confidence. She wasn’t very
optimistic at any rate. However, they would see--what they would see.
She peeped in the window again. The Mexican was wiping the blade of his
knife carefully on his shirt sleeve. She knew he was so deliberately
cool and slow just to keep Valerie in suspense and to undermine her
courage. She looked at her friend. Valerie’s color had faded a bit and
her eyes were a little more luminous, but not with fear. She saw Val’s
lips move again but she didn’t know that Val had said:
“Well, why don’t you get it over with?”
“In time, my leetle one, in time,” Pedro laughed.
“If you don’t hurry my friends might arrive and spoil your little
party,” Valerie continued imperturbably.
He laughed again. “They weel not come here, my friend.”
“Yes they will,” Valerie said coolly, “and when they do, you will look
very handsome--at the end of a rope.”
“Rope?” he pretended not to understand her.
“Yes, a rope,” Valerie said bluntly, “for they will hang you to the
highest limb of the nearest tree and your friends with you!”
He laughed, albeit a tiny gleam of fear had flickered for a moment in
his eyes.
“But I weel not be here,” he said smoothly. “And you, my preety flower,
will not be able to tell them w’ere I have gone.”
Valerie swallowed with difficulty. The fellow was getting on her nerves.
He knew her story about her friends coming had been a bluff and he was
gloating over the fact. If something didn’t happen soon, her nerve would
go to pieces.