THE REBELLION OF COCK MURRAY
The buckboard, wheeling off the trail, was lost to view almost as soon
as Murray saw it. Rose and Margaret he had recognized at a glance but
whose figure had been the second in the wagon? Suddenly misgiving
assailed him. Forgetting Hopalong and his orders, he turned and
followed them. Every step of his horse increased his anxiety and urged
him forward; and twin-born with it smouldered a growing anger that held
him back: he hesitated to have his fears confirmed in the presence of
two women, one of whom--well, that was done with but it had left a scar
that was beginning to throb again with the old pain. He rode slowly but
gaining steadily on the trio ahead. When they reached the cabin, Rose
called; receiving no answer she was about to go for help when she saw
Murray and pointed to him. Margaret motioned and he hurried to obey the
summons.
He recognized Buck while still some distance away and the smoulder burst
into a blaze. This was the game then? Schatz had emphatically stated
it was to be one of freeze-out; when they found it would n't work then
the good old way was good enough. The jauntiness of carriage which had
earned him his nickname (he was responsible for the surname only) was
gone when he joined the others; the gay insolence of his speech was gone
also, and some of his good looks. The successful concealment of his
feelings had lost him much but it had gained him more: Margaret thrilled
to a sense of power she had not expected in him. Rose's gesture of
finger to lips was superfluous: Murray never felt less like talking.
"How'd you get here, Cock?" asked Buck, dully. The strain of the drive
was telling even upon his iron frame.
"Orders," answered Cock, briefly; and Buck was not sufficiently
interested to inquire further.
The team was effectually secured and they got Buck from the wagon and
into the cabin with but little difficulty; Murray, though he did not
look it, was a far stronger man than Whitby; and Buck was laid gently in
the bunk, his head brushing the spot where Pickles had muffled his
breathing a few hours before.
The removal of the bandage brought a gasp to the lips of Margaret, who
pressed her hand to her heart and stared with horrified eyes. She
touched Rose on the shoulder: "Can you--can you dress the wound without
me?" she asked, breathlessly.
"But certainly," answered Rose, mildly surprised.
"Then I will go--back--and send on the medicine chest. I am sure you
will need it."
"That is good," commended Rose, looking curiously after Margaret, who
swayed as she went out of the room.
Murray hurried after her. "It is nothing, Miss McAllister, except for
the pain and possible fever. Buck will tell you so himself. Drink
this."
The cold water made her feel better. "I never realized before--what
fighting means," she murmured. "It may be nothing but it
looks--terrible."
"Nothing dangerous, I assure you, and perfect health will bring him
through. Shall you go on out to the ranch?"
"Why, I must send the medicines."
"Then wait for me to join you at Twin River. I shall not be long."
He controlled the restive team until she was ready and watched her
start. When he returned to Rose she had bared and was bathing the wound
from which but little blood came, now. When a fresh bandage had been
put in place she turned to him with expressive gesture: "Remove all,"
she commanded, indicating Buck's clothing. She left the room and Murray
heard her moving about in the attic while he busied himself in obedience
to her orders.
"Who was it, Buck?" he asked, sombrely.
"Did n't see him. Dave, I reckon."
"Was it Dave you was after?"
"That's him. Did n't you know?"
"No." Murray slit viciously through the waist band of the trousers and
raised Buck with one powerful arm while he eased away the severed cloth.
He said nothing more until Rose came with a garment such as Buck had not
worn for more years than he liked to remember. When it was donned and
Buck made comfortable, Murray spoke with decision. In his earnestness
he unconsciously reverted from the slip-shod manner of speech to which
he had habituated himself.
"I have a confession to make," he began; "and I want to make it now. I
don't think it will harm you to hear it."
"Let 'er go," said Buck, with awakened interest.
"I am a hypocrite. I am indirectly responsible for the loss of your
cattle. I have been taking your money and working for another man. I
am not at all proud of it. In fact, as things have turned out, I 'm
d--d sick of it. All that I can say for myself is that I honestly
thought the other man was in the right; now I know better. If it will
be any satisfaction to you I would give my life this minute rather than
have it known by--by certain people who are bound to know of it if you
talk. So it has not been easy to tell you. I have only one thing more
to add: I can't be treacherous to the other man although he has been
treacherous to me; but if you are not afraid to trust me, I guarantee to
make the Double Y sound on the inside, at least--that is, if they don't
kill me."
"By th' Lord!" breathed Buck. "I 'm right glad I got that pill. Trust
you? You bet!" He reached out his hand to Murray and the grip he felt
confirmed his belief that the canker was surely healed on the Double Y.
Softly as Buck spoke, the sound of his voice brought Rose to the door.
She looked sternly at Murray: "You must go," she declared; "So much talk
bring fever."
"All right, ma'am," assented Murray, carefully keeping from her his
tell-tale face, "sure you won't need help?"
"No, my father come soon." She advanced to the bunk and improved
comfort and appearance with a few deft touches.
"Good-day, then, ma'am. So long, Buck. I 'm ridin' to th' ranch with
Miss McAllister."
"So long, Cock. Get at it, son. Th' Double Y needs you, you bet," and
the smile on the stern face was so winning that Murray left hastily,
with long strides.