HELEN MOWBRAY'S WILL.
By the time one could have counted ten there was not a man of Burk's
force in sight, but, on looking down the road where it led to the plain
that lay before the mountains, the dust of their retreat hung in the
air.
"We've got 'em on ther run," said Bud, throwing his hat into the air
with a joyous yawp. "Sufferin' tomcats, but them fellers has their
nerve, aber nit."
Ben and the major had carried Ted into the house, and the major, who was
a good surgeon, had Ted's coat off and was examining his wound.
When the shot had been fired through the door at him the ball had been
deflected by a piece of iron, and, instead of penetrating his heart, as
it surely would have done otherwise, it struck a rib and ran around
toward the back, coming out near the spine, and, although an extremely
painful wound, it was not at all serious.
A ball had passed through the fleshy part of Kit's forearm, but when the
major had washed it in warm water and dressed it, it ceased to pain, and
he could use it handily. But Ted's wound was different, and the impact
of the ball on the rib had made him so sore that he could not breathe
without suffering agony.
Stella had one of the boys make a fire for her, and, having found the
house well stored with provisions, she began to cook supper for them,
for they were all tired and hungry.
It was evening before they knew it, and it was decided to stay at the
house all night, keeping a careful guard against the return of Burk and
Mowbray.
"I never was so surprised in my life as when I saw Mowbray in the bushes
out there just in the act of murdering you," said the major after
supper, as he sat on the sofa beside Ted.
"It was a surprising meeting," said Ted. "I had no idea he was in this
part of the country. His was the face I saw at the window when we had
all that money and gold and jewels out."
"Then he knows we have found it?"
"Sure. He knows we have it, and if he is the chap I think he is, he'll
not rest until he gets it, or--something else."
"Meaning?"
"Death or imprisonment."
"He richly deserves either, or both. He made the life of my sister most
unpleasant."
"By the way, major, what do you know about him? It might be handy to
know something in the future if he tries to make trouble."
"Precious little."
"Oh, by the way, have you looked into that packet I took from the safe
and handed you? The one addressed to your father, I take it, or to
yourself."
"Haven't thought of it until now. Must take a look at it, by Jove. It
may tell us a lot we want to know."
The major pulled the envelope from his pocket, and after examining the
writing on it closely for a moment tore off the end of it and drew out
several business-like documents.
"You'll excuse me, Strong, while I look these over, won't you?" he said.
"Certainly. Don't mind me," replied Ted, sinking back comfortably among
the cushions.
As the major's eyes traveled over the documents they began to light up
with a new intelligence. Then a look of pain followed, and the tears ran
slowly down his cheeks.
Finally he turned to Ted:
"It is her will, and some history of her adventures in this country
since she left home, and an account of the abuse and indignities heaped
upon her by her husband, Mowbray, from whom she was divorced some months
ago."
"Then Mowbray has no right to her property?"
"Not a penny's worth. I shall not bore you by reading all she says on
the subject. She tells how he beat her after stealing from her all he
could. Then she goes on to tell of his crimes."
"He is a bad egg, then," said Ted, as the major paused.
"You would scarcely believe how bad he was if I were to read the story
of his career."
"I suppose he had been bothering her since in order to get more money
from her."
"Yes, she says that he made her life miserable, and that he often
threatened to kill her if she didn't give him all she had."
"Hearing of her death, he came here to steal everything he could lay his
hands on; is that it? But I don't quite see why the authorities here,
knowing of her divorce from him, would permit him to take possession of
her effects, from any ownership in which the courts had barred him."
"I don't suppose the people here knew anything about it, for she says in
this paper that she got her divorce secretly, and that there was no
publicity about it. She simply had her lawyers notify Mowbray to that
effect, at which time she sent him ten thousand dollars in settlement of
all claims against her, which he agreed to accept with that
understanding. But later he wrote her a letter in which he said that the
agreement meant nothing to him, and that he would expect more."
"But why didn't she make the fact that he was no longer her husband
public? It would have saved this trouble."
"She didn't want the news of it to travel to our parents in England.
That was her pride."
"I see. Does she leave him anything in her will?"
"Yes. Her will is a curious document. It was evidently made immediately
after her divorce from Mowbray, and leaves all her property to our
mother, and, after her death, to my brother and myself, with a small
bequest to silence Mowbray. But there is a codicil which leads me to
believe that she had heard of mother's death, in which event she leaves
almost everything to her brother, Frederic Caruthers. He is the one
known as Fancy Farnsworth."
"Nothing to you?"
"Oh, yes, but not so much as to Fred, whom she puts in my care, asking
me to see that he is properly treated and that he gets the justice which
is his due."
"Evidently she knew, then, that he has many enemies who were trying to
put him within the clutches of the law."
"Evidently. But there is a section which I do not understand."
"Read it. Perhaps we can figure it out between us."
"All right, I will. The paragraph is as follows: 'I desire that my elder
brother, John Stairs Caruthers, shall take charge of my property in the
event that the said Frederic Caruthers shall not be present when my will
is opened, and that he shall be found as speedily as possible. For
several years Frederic Caruthers has been my only protector, defending
me from the abuse and greed of my former husband, and, further,
sustaining my credit and honor by assuming the misdeeds of Mowbray, to
his own discredit and danger. Had it not been for his watchful care, I
would long ago have been stripped of all I have been able to accumulate,
and have been in my grave at the hands of Mowbray. But of this latter I
am in constant dread, and I feel such will yet be my fate. If my dead
body is found with marks of violence on it, and my house robbed, it will
have been the work of said Mowbray. Therefore, in the way of a tardy
reward for the loyalty, care, protection, and love given me by my
brother, Frederic Caruthers, I leave to him the bulk of my property,
personal and real, in mining stocks, jewels, money, and the turquoise
beds in New Mexico, as well as the San Fernando Ranch. I especially
charge my brother John Stairs Caruthers to find his brother, and to
defend him and clear his name, should it be necessary, and to put him in
full possession of his property.'"
As the major finished reading he looked at Ted inquiringly.
"Well, what do you make of it?" he asked. "I confess it puzzles me."
"I can see through it. But you have your work cut out for you, major."
"In what way?"
"You will find this fellow Mowbray a hard customer."
"Pshaw! I am not afraid of him."
"Neither am I, for that matter; but it is not he alone that is to be
feared in this matter."
"What do you mean?"
"Just this: Mowbray evidently is an archvillain, but he could not do all
his dirty work alone."
"You think he has accomplices, then?"
"Exactly. And of the most dangerous sort."
"For instance?"
"I have been thinking the matter over, and I am convinced that Mowbray
has got about him the most dangerous sort of a gang to carry on his work
for him. Do you know if he is a man of any particular force and
cleverness?"
"When I knew him, which was before I went to India, he was already
beginning to practice his shady transactions in England, but he had
never been directly caught at it. This led to the greatest opposition on
the part of my family to his marriage to my sister."
"But, in spite of it, she married him?"
"Yes; she had an idea that he was abused and misrepresented, and flew to
his defense by secretly marrying him. After that he got worse and bolder
until he was caught not only cheating at cards, but actually stealing by
means of forgery and in other ways, and they had to flee from England."
"Then, of course, he is a master in crime by this time."
"It would not surprise me to learn it. But you spoke of his being
especially dangerous because of the men he had gathered about him?"
"Yes, and I mean it. I am sure now that in his gang are several men who
are especially dangerous, because they can defy the law without much
risk of running counter to it."
"I don't see how one man can break the law with less danger of
punishment than another."
"It is this way: Mowbray has in his gang several deputy United States
marshals. These men have advance information of any action to be taken
by the law against the suspected perpetrators of crime. This information
is at once at the disposal of Mowbray, and he can escape the
consequences of his crimes without difficulty. He is protected, also, by
his partners rigging up accusations against innocent persons, and
convicting them by manufacturing evidence against them."
"What a villainous system!"
"It is. And it is just this thing that has enabled Mowbray to prey on
his wife for so long a time."
The major uttered an exclamation of anger.
"Another thing," continued Ted: "I am sure now that it was these very
pals of Mowbray that made the accusations against your brother, known as
Farnsworth, at the instance of Mowbray. They nursed public resentment
against the young fellow until every hand was against him, and he was
forced to become an outlaw, or fall into the hands of the authorities
and be forced into prison, or to the gallows, through the perjury of
these same deputy marshals. It is an infamous thing, and I am going to
try to sift it to the bottom and clear your brother, and see that
Mowbray gets what's coming to him."
"You are very good, and I shall never forget what you have done for me
already."
"That's all right. It's my duty as an officer of the United States in
this Territory of Arizona to do it. Never fear; there will be more to
this than the beginning, and a race is not won until it is ended."
All night one or the other of the boys patrolled the grounds, hiding in
the shrubbery, ready to give the alarm should any of Mowbray's party
return to attack the house and capture the treasure.
But dawn broke without an alarm, and the boys were astir, making ready
for the abandonment of the house and the return to the Bubbly Well
Ranch.
Ted was feeling so much better after a good night's rest that he was
able to climb into his saddle and go into the town.
His object was to get a wagon and a span of mules in which to transport
the remains of Helen Mowbray and the valuables she had left behind to
her brother's house.
At a livery stable he met the proprietor, a garrulous old man, whom,
when he had explained his mission, looked at him strangely before
speaking.
"What's doin' at the Mowbray house?" he asked. "We all uptown was some
curious last evenin' when we heard so much shootin'."
"Nothing much," said Ted. "Just a little pistol practice."
The old man grinned.
"Yuh musta kep' ther targets warm some from ther way ther poppin'
sounded up yere," he said dryly.
"Yes, it was rather warm for a while. Well, can I have the wagon, and a
driver to bring it back?"
"I don't know whether I can spare one or not. Yuh see, it's some
dangerous ter take sides in this town."
"I don't want you to take my side. All I want is to complete a business
transaction with you. I want you to hire me a wagon and team for a day.
You understand what I want?"
"Yes, but, yuh see, that would be considered as givin' succor ter ther
enemy."
"I don't understand why."
"It's this way: Judge Harris owns this stable an' rents it to me by ther
month. He could kick me out to-morrow if he wanted to. He's a queer
dick, an' him an' Burk, what, I understand, was at ther Mowbray house
yesterday, and what had ter run away, is as close as two sheets o'
sticky fly paper."
"He is, eh?"
"Yes; an' the coroner, the jailer, the mayor, the sheriff, an' everybody
else what has any power er authority, is in the same boat. They all hang
together, an' they're all friends o' Mr. Mowbray. Lord Mowbray they
calls him."
"Ah, ha!" thought Ted. "If that is the case, it behooves us to get out
of town and to Bubbly Well with our property as soon as we can."
After some further talk Ted was still unable to get the old man to rent
him a wagon. Then he changed his tactics.
"Well," he said, in a firm voice, "if you won't rent me the wagon and
team I'll be obliged to confiscate it for the United States."
"Eh, how is that?"
"I said I would take it for the uses of the United States. Come, roll it
out and hitch up before I have to resort to violence."
"I don't know you, bub. I'm from Missouri. You'll have to show me."
Ted exposed his star of authority.
"Does that go?" he asked. "Because if it don't, this will."
His revolver was out of its holster like a flash, much to the surprise
of the liveryman, who had been somewhat of a bad man himself in his day,
and gun plays were not uncommon at Rodeo.
He gazed mildly into the bore of the big, silver-mounted forty-five, and
then murmured:
"It goes, pal."