THE BURNED RANCH.
Meanwhile Monteith Sterry was making the best of his opportunity.
It was no great exploit for him to slip out of the back door, when he
found his enemies gathering in front; but, had he not been convinced
that the movement was in the interests of his friends, as well as
himself, he would not have made it.
His flight was at a moderate pace for several hundred yards, by which
time he considered himself safe from pursuit and gave his mare free
rein. Her speed was rapid, but she was capable of maintaining it for
hours without fatigue.
Sterry's intention was to make his way to the ranch of his friend,
Dick Hawkridge, which lay to the westward. He began veering in that
direction, so that it may be said that while Inman and his band were
riding toward him, he was approaching them. Two causes, however,
prevented a meeting of the parties.
Sterry was much further out than the rustlers, and in the darkness
they could see nothing, if indeed they could hear anything of each
other. Then he had not ridden far when he was checked by an unexpected
sight.
A bright red glow appeared to the northward in the sky. It was too
vivid, distinct and near for him to mistake its nature. It was a
burning building, the flames showing so strongly that, aware as he was
of the deceptive nature of such a light, he knew it was no more than a
mile away. He turned the head of his mare in that direction.
"Things seem to be stirring to-night," was his thought as he galloped
forward, with his gaze fixed on the burning structure. "That may be
an accident, but such accidents are not common in this part of the
world."
His supposition was that it was the work of the rustlers, but he was
mistaken.
The building was similar to that occupied by the Whitneys, though
somewhat smaller, and burned so fast that when he reached the spot it
was a mass of blazing embers, with hardly a semblance of the original
structure remaining.
The sight was interesting of itself, but the attention of Sterry was
riveted by the figure of a man lying motionless on the ground, only
a few paces in front of where the door had been. His nerveless right
hand still grasped the Winchester with which he had evidently made a
sturdy fight when stricken down.
Sterry did not dismount, but, sitting in the saddle, looked on the
sorrowful sight as revealed by the glow of the burning building. He
was saddened that such things should be.
Little time, however, was given him for gloomy reverie, when Queenie
sniffed the air and turned her head a little to one side. Looking in
that direction, the rider saw the figure of a horseman assume shape in
the glow as his animal advanced at a slow step. He must have detected
Sterry before the latter saw him, and was studying him with close
attention, his rifle supported across his saddle in front, ready for
instant use.
Reading his suspicion, the young man called out:
"Come on, partner! You and I cannot be enemies at such a time as
this."
The salutation reassured the other, who increased his pace.
Before he reached Sterry the latter half-regretted his action, for
he recognized the man as Duke Vesey, one of the most notorious of
rustlers and a bitter personal enemy. But a certain chivalry rules
among such people, and after the greeting of Sterry to Vesey there was
little danger of the latter taking unfair advantage of it.
"This is bad business," remarked the younger, pointing to the figure
on the ground.
A hard look crossed the face of the rustler and his thin lips
compressed as he shook his head.
"Yes, that's what's left of Jack Perkins; he was my pard."
"How did it happen?"
"How did it happen! A pretty question for you to ask. He was killed by
the stockmen less than an hour ago."
"But they didn't ride hither and shoot him down, I am sure."
"I don't know what you can be sure of," said Vesey, ominously. "Jack
and I were riding along peaceable like, when we heard horsemen behind
us. We didn't pay any attention to them till we got home and Jack
slipped off his horse. I concluded to stay in the saddle until the
fellows came up and I had a talk with them. They were Capt. Asbury and
his stockmen, and the first thing they called out was an order for us
to throw up our hands.
"Well," continued Vesey, grimly, "we aren't in that kind of business,
and the next thing the guns were popping all around us. Jack had
nerve. I wish the poor fellow had stayed in the saddle; but his horse
scooted off, and he stood right there where he fell, without a leaf to
shelter him, and pumped the lead into those stockmen, who were mean
enough to shoot the brave fellow in his tracks without giving him a
chance for life."
"You told me they ordered him to surrender before the firing began."
"So they did, that they might shoot him down the easier. I had a hot
chase with them, and it was a pretty close call for me; but they
didn't keep up the hunt for long. You would think," added Vesey,
bitterly, "that they would have been satisfied with dropping poor
Jack, without burning down our home; but that is the style of the
stockmen."
Here was a representative of each of the factions, or associations, so
hostile to each other. The rustler knew Monteith Sterry, and must
have felt a consuming resentment toward him. His words and manner
indicated, too, that he was not averse to a quarrel. He had fought the
stockmen more than once, and, with the memory of the recent collision
and the advantages on the other side, he welcomed the chance of a
conflict on anything like equal terms.
Monteith did not stand in any personal fear of the famous rustler, and
was fully armed and on the alert. Without seeming to do so, he kept a
watch on the man, but he disliked the thought of a personal encounter
with him. The scene, the surroundings, and his own nature, revolted,
and he resolved to submit to all that it was possible to bear before
falling back on the last resort.
"No doubt," said Sterry, "there has been injustice on both sides, and
stockmen as well as rustlers have done things for which there is no
justification; I hope the trouble will soon end."
"It will end as soon as we get justice."
"Yes," Sterry could not help retorting, "for if justice were done to
you rustlers none would be left. However," he hastened to add, "there
is no reason why you and I should quarrel, Vesey; I had no share in
the death of your friend; and if the case is as you represent it, he
was more sinned against than sinning."
"Of course you had no share in that simply because you wasn't here,
but you have been concerned in other affairs like this where some of
the rustlers have gone down."
"It is quite possible I have," coolly replied Sterry, "inasmuch as
when a man is attacked it is his duty to defend himself. I have not
yet been convinced that I ought to stand up and allow others to do as
they please when weapons were in my hands."
"You have no business in Wyoming anyway," said Vesey, angrily; "you
have been sent here by the Association to do its underhand work."
"Duke Vesey," said Sterry, "you are a man of too much education to
talk in that way. If you and I quarrel, it will be your fault, but
don't fancy that I hold you in any fear. Good-night."