THE DEPARTURE.
It was with really a sad heart that Clarice Carr felt that she must
say farewell to Ruth Arden. She had become greatly attached to her
in the few days she had been at the fort, and she recognized what a
superior woman she was, young in years but old in experience.
The major and his wife also were sorry to see her depart, for they
too had been drawn to her most closely.
When the time came for her departure Colonel Dunwoody came over to
the major’s and for a moment saw Ruth alone.
“Miss Arden, I hope and feel that we will meet again, and I wish to
say to you that it is my wish that you will command me in any way in
which I can ever be of service to you. Will you promise me this, Miss
Arden?”
“I will, Colonel Dunwoody, although I am now under the deepest
obligations to you.”
“No, I do not so consider it; but there is one thing more, and pardon
me for referring to it.”
“Yes.”
“When this is all over, when the end has come, I will have the body
of your brother decently buried for your sake, and the grave marked
so that it can be found if need be. The major has told me that there
was a fortune left by your father, and to get possession of it you
may wish to secure a certificate of his death.”
“It is not necessary, Colonel Dunwoody, as my father left the entire
estate to me, having disinherited my brother. I would gladly have
shared it with him, had he changed his career, or given his share to
his wife or children, had he married, which, however, he told me he
had not done. If you will give him decent burial, sir, I shall be
very grateful, and I desire to leave with you the funds necessary
for----”
“No, no, Miss Arden, I will keep an account of the expenses and
notify you at the proper time. But here comes the coach, and
farewells must be said.”
Mrs. Lester, the major, and Clarice then came forward, and all said
farewell with deep regret, the colonel handing the girl to a seat
upon the box by the side of Horseshoe Ned, who seemed proud to have
his fair passenger again under his charge.
Then Ned gathered up his reins, called to his leaders, and away
whirled the coach at a slapping pace, while the eyes of Ruth were
seen to turn with a longing look toward the cabin where her brother
was in irons, and must soon go forth from his prison to the gallows.
The coming of Ruth had created much comment. Had she been an ordinary
person it would have been less thought of, but all who saw her
recognized her as a lady at once. She was very beautiful, and her
manner strangely fascinating.
Her coming carried out the old saying that no man is so vile but has
one good woman to love him. She had bravely met her brother, had done
all in her power to cheer him, and then had gone her way. It would
have been only harmful to her and to him for her to have remained
longer, as all agreed. She had shown her good sense in going.
As the coach rolled away Surgeon Frank Powell and Buffalo Bill were
standing near the latter’s quarters.
“Bill, she is really going,” said the surgeon, as he saw Ruth upon
the box with Horseshoe Ned.
“So it seems, doc. What you said to her must have frightened her off.”
“You mean about being aware that she came here to rescue the
prisoner?”
“Yes.”
“It may be.”
“She is really, then, the sister of that outlaw?”
“Oh, yes; as there are no others in the secret I can tell you now
that the miner, Deadshot Dean, told me as much.”
“Well, she is a brave, noble girl; but here she comes.”
The coach rolled by just then, and both Surgeon Powell and Buffalo
Bill raised their hats, a salutation which Ruth returned with a very
gracious bow. They watched the coach until it left the stockade
through the gateway, and then Buffalo Bill said:
“Doc?”
“Yes, Bill.”
“I am on the trail of knowledge.”
“Well?”
“I wish to see what she is going to do?”
“Miss Arden?”
“Exactly.”
“She can do nothing else than go East now, for Deadshot Dean said he
intended taking her with him.”
“She may, and she may not go East. No one in the fort knows her,
other than you and I, as Bonnie Belle of Pocket City, for she has
guarded that secret, I am sure.”
“Yes, wholly.”
“Now she may go back to Pocket City.”
“Suppose she does?”
“She came here to rescue her brother beyond all doubt, and, finding
that you were aware of that fact, having recognized her, she has gone
her way.”
“Very wisely.”
“That remains to be seen.”
“What are you driving at, Bill?”
“Well, that woman idolizes that wicked brother of hers, and all the
miners in Yellow Dust Valley idolize her. Did she wish to make a
dash and rescue her brother she could get every man in the valley to
follow her lead, so I am going to see just what her destination is.”
“A good idea,” responded Doctor Powell, and half an hour after
Buffalo Bill rode away from the fort following the trail of the
stage-coach.
“They is two dandies from ’wayback, miss.”
Such had been Horseshoe Ned’s comment regarding Surgeon Powell and
Buffalo Bill as the coach rolled by them.
“Who are they?” innocently asked Ruth.
“Ther one in fatigue uniform is Doctor Frank Powell, miss, better
known as ther Surgeon Scout, for he’s one of the best Injun-fighters
and trailers on ther plains, and no man has had a more dangerous life
than he has lived. He’s a dead shot, and don’t know no more what fear
is than I does about preachin’ ther Gospil. Ther’ ain’t no squarer
and better man in the wild West than White Beaver, as the Injuns call
him, nor a better surgeon, scout, and all-around man, either.”
“You certainly give him a most delightful recommendation, Horseshoe
Ned; but, who is the one in buckskin and the broad sombrero who was
talking to him?”
“That are Buffalo Bill.”
“Yes, I have heard of him, as I have also of the Surgeon Scout, for
they are known everywhere, it seems, through their deeds.”
“Yes, miss, they is, for a fact.
“Buffalo Bill is chief of scouts at the fort, and he is a man to tie
to when one needs a friend. It war them two, if you’ll pardon me for
saying it, along with the miner from Pocket City, thet captured Silk
Lasso Sam and his gang, and stopped highway robbery on this trail.”
“Then you think there will now be no more holding-up of coaches on
the Overland?”
“Not on ther trail I runs, miss, I’m thinking.”
So the coach went along its way. Horseshoe Ned delighted at
exhibiting his skill as a driver and striving hard to keep Ruth from
dwelling upon the fact that she had parted with her brother forever.
Just as the coach drove down into Deep Dell Brook, where it had been
last held-up and Ribbons had been killed, Horseshoe Ned said:
“I tells yer, miss, it’s a comfort ter feel yer kin halt in thet
stream ter water your horses, and not be expecting a shot all ther
time.”
“Yes, for you have risked dangers enough to enjoy some sense of
security now,” was Ruth’s answer.
But hardly had the words been uttered when suddenly down the trail
beyond, leading into the stream, rode a horseman. He was dressed in
black, but rode a snow-white horse, though all of his trappings were
of sable hue.
The horseman was masked, and wore a black sombrero, but his hair
fell in heavy waves upon his broad shoulders, concealing even his
neck, while, as he wore gauntlet gloves, no one could have told from
his appearance whether he was paleface, Indian, Chinese, or negro.
“Hands up, Horseshoe Ned, for you carry a rich prize,” cried the
horseman, as he reached the water’s edge, and leveled his rifle at
the driver.
“Waal, I’ll be etarnally roasted, ef thet don’t beat all, for I were
jist sayin’ ther trail were clear o’ varmints like you.”
“Silence! Hold on there, my pretty lady, for I’ll send a bullet
through your brain as quickly as I would shoot Horseshoe Ned, if you
attempt to show your claws,” sternly cried the highwayman.
This command was caused by seeing the action of Ruth, who had drawn
toward her a small valise she had behind her upon the top of the
coach, and in which she had a revolver, that had before rendered her
good service. Not expecting a hold-up, she had not kept the weapon
near her. There was something in the tone of the man that indicated
his intention to be as good as his word, and Ruth raised her hand
from the satchel.
“Say, robber, if yer don’t consider me rude, I’d like ter ask yer
who yer be, for I thought ther old gang had been wiped out?”
“The old gang was, but I have come to hunt the trails, and I am here
to stay. That lady is well fixed, as I happen to know, so I will
trouble her for her money, and all else of value she may have with
her. If she refuses, I will kill you, Horseshoe Ned, and hold her a
captive until she pays far more than I can now rob her of. I hope you
both understand the situation.”
“I understand you is a thief I’d like ter git a rope onto once,”
growled the driver, while Ruth said:
“Yes, I understand the situation perfectly, Sir Robber. You have
the power to rob me, and so I submit to your brute force only. I
have with me considerable money, a thousand dollars perhaps, and
some jewelry, as you have said, and I will give all if you demand
it, but I would like to ask to keep a little money, and several
trinkets, which, of little value to you, are most valuable to me from
association. May I keep these and a hundred dollars in money?”
It would seem that few could resist this appeal, but the robber had
the power and he meant to use it.
“No, not a dollar, or anything of value shall you keep. I risk my
life to rob, and I demand all, so give it up, or I draw trigger on
Horseshoe hied and you are my captive. Come, no nonsense, so hand
over your wealth,” and the robber rode nearer to the coach.
The man moved nearer, riding into the stream to do so.
The team of horses looked at him askance as though appreciating the
situation, while the face of Horseshoe Ned grew black with rage.
“Ter think I can’t protect her,” he muttered.
To have his fair passenger robbed of her money and jewels while
in his keeping was a terrible thought to the driver. Yet he was
powerless, as the slightest resistance on his part meant instant
death to him. So the road-agent, still covering the driver with his
rifle, rode nearer to the coach.
“You will force me to-give up all?” said Ruth, in a voice that showed
she was deeply moved.
“Every dollar and valuable you have along,” was the stern rejoinder.
“Then I suppose there is no help for me,” and she opened the satchel
and placed her hand within it.
“None, my pretty miss, for I need all you have, and more, too.”
“Then take all that I have to give!”
As the words were uttered the hand came quickly out of the satchel,
and a sharp report followed.
With a cry of pain the road-agent dropped his rifle into the stream,
for his right arm was shattered. Then, with a savage oath, he dropped
his left hand upon his revolver on his hip.
But quickly a second shot rang out, and, notwithstanding the plunging
team, which brought all of Horseshoe Ned’s energies to bear to stop
them from turning short around in the stream, the bullet was truly
aimed and the left arm dropped to his side, the weapon falling into
the water.
“My God, miss, don’t kill me!” cried the road-agent, and he wheeled
his horse by a movement of his body and a word, to dash away.
“I hate to harm that beautiful animal, but he must not escape,” cried
Ruth, now thoroughly aroused, and for the third time her revolver was
raised.
A quick glance along the barrel and the third shot rang out. Although
the horse was bounding up the hill at full speed, the aim was true
and the animal dropped upon his knees, stumbled, and went down,
throwing his rider hard.
“I’ll catch him, miss, if you can hold the team,” cried Horseshoe
Ned, after giving vent to a wild yell of admiration for the girl’s
crack shooting and the success she had met with.
But as he spoke there came a rushing sound behind them, a plunge, and
a horseman was crossing the stream with mighty leaps.
“Buffalo Bill!” yelled Horseshoe Ned wildly, and in an instant the
scout had crossed the stream and was by the side of the wounded
outlaw.
“Don’t kill me, for I cannot resist,” said the road-agent faintly.
Snatching the mask from his face, Buffalo Bill said:
“Ah! I know that face. You are the one of Silk Lasso Sam’s band who
escaped. Ho, Ned, you did some crack shooting here, even if you did
not kill him.”
“It wasn’t me did it, Buffalo Bill,” responded Ned, who had now
driven up to the spot.
“Not you?”
“Nary.”
“Who then?”
“This young leddy, and she knows how ter use a gun, says I.”
“I did not wish to kill him, so broke his right arm. Then, as he drew
a revolver with his left, I sent a bullet through that, and my third
shot was to bring down his horse to prevent his escape.”
“Well, miss, you are a crack shot, and the fellow, is the last one
of Silk Lasso Sam’s band, so that now there will be a clear trail to
travel, I guess. I will have you take him on with you, Horseshoe Ned,
and bring him back to the fort with you on your next run.”
“I’ll die if I am not cared for,” groaned the man.
“Well, if I was in your place, pard, I’d want to die, as yer’ll hang
as sart’in as I knows yer name,” put in Horseshoe Ned.
“I did no harm,” whined the man.
“Oh, no, yer didn’t, but it wasn’t your fault all ther same, for yer
intended ter rob this young lady and threatened to shoot her, too.”
“Well, Ned, I’ll do the best I can for his wounds until you reach the
station where the doctor can care for him, and you must be particular
that he does not escape.”
“Yer won’t go along then, Bill?”
“No, for I am on a little scouting-expedition I cannot neglect. I
heard your shots, Miss Arden, so rode on to see what was the matter.
I congratulate you upon your nerve and splendid shooting.”
“I thank you, sir, for praise from such a man as Buffalo Bill is
worth having.”
“It was just splendid the way she did it, Bill,” said Horseshoe Ned,
who now, with the scout, set to work to dress the wounds of the
road-agent.
Taking from her satchel several handkerchiefs Ruth tore them into
strips for bandages and aided in dressing the wounds which she had
made.
At last the work was done, the road-agent was placed in the coach and
the doors secured firmly, and his traps were placed on the top.
Mounting the box again with Horseshoe Ned, Ruth said good-by to
Buffalo Bill and the team moved on once more.
But after waiting for some little time, Buffalo Bill mounted and rode
on after the coach.