THE CONSPIRACY
After dinner the Professor announced his intention of strolling
across to his friends at the cook-house, but learned from Cockney
that only Bean Slade was about the place, the rest having gone out on
the ranges for a few days. Bean was finishing some needed repairs
about the ranch buildings, and was going to town in a couple of days
for the staples.
"Dakota has made a place for your team in the stables," Cockney said
casually. "He's afraid to let strange horses loose in the corrals at
night: they might hurt themselves."
"That's thoughtful of Dakota," replied the Professor. "I don't know
what Inspector Barker would say--he lent them to me, you know, as the
safest in Medicine Hat--because it must be stifling some nights in
the stables. If I relieved Dakota of all personal responsibility I
suppose he'd let them run loose in the corrals? Gee-Gee seems to
have a temperament that requires airing."
"The stables are not stifling," said Cockney shortly. "Besides,
Dakota looks after that part of the ranch; I don't interfere."
Stamford took it outside and thought it over.
"I'd almost forgotten my daily ride," he said, entering the
sitting-room a few minutes later. "I have a premonition that should
Hobbles lose track of me for a day she'll forget my weaknesses. Will
you come and see I get fair-play, Miss Bulkeley?"
"Hobbles is in the stable, too," said Cockney, "also Miss Bulkeley's
horse. The key's hanging inside my bedroom door. Help yourself."
Bean Slade suggested that he, as teacher, accompany the two, but
Stamford waved him away with mock rudeness.
"You make me blush, Bean. I'm taking Miss Bulkeley for an evening
ride--showing her the sights. One of them may be when Hobbles
decides to trot, but I must chance that. I usually last only three
trots. Hobbles has the habit now of stopping at the third to let me
remount."
He bumped away, the perfect seat of his companion giving his
inexperience the laugh.
"I don't see how you do it, Miss Bulkeley, but if I could ride like
that I'd be a Mounted Policeman--if they'd take me in. Too bad to
waste it in Washington. If everyone in your city rides like you----"
"Don't talk about civilisation, Mr. Stamford," she rebuked. "It
sounds so funny out here."
"Can I really be funny so easily? Speaking about civilisation, did
you ever see anything to beat this locking up of our horses? What's
Dakota afraid of anyway? I'm a funny critter, Miss Bulkeley. I
never had an ambition to ride Hobbles out of hours before. Now I'm
wild to tear about this lonesome prairie at the most unconventional
hours. If you'll turn your back you won't be accessory to a crime.
I'd ride away and turn my back to you, only Hobbles wouldn't leave
your horse now, and I couldn't make her. I'm making a drawing of
this stable key. Yours not to reason why."
He turned himself from her as much as he could and outlined the key
in his notebook.
"I was watching the sunset all the time," she told him when he had
finished, "and wondering."
"Don't wonder," he warned, with a sigh. "I've started to, and I'm
getting more tangled every day. Life was never like this before."
That night he made arrangements with Bean to go to town with him two
days later, and retired to bed with a virtuous satisfaction at having
beaten his favourite enemy, though when he thought of Cockney he had
twinges of conscience.
The second day of fossil-hunting with the Professor was even less
interesting and more wearying than the first. There was a limit to
the hours Stamford could sleep, and the scorching heat among the
rocks made eyes and face sting. After lunch he ended an
uncomfortable hour of dozing by hunting up the Professor.
He found him curled in the shadow of a rock, sound asleep, hammer and
chisel by his side. Stamford struck the rock a ringing blow with the
hammer. With a bound the Professor was on his feet.
"Oh--you, Stamford! This heat--I guess I must have succumbed to
it--that and the drone of the mosquitoes. Did you ever feel such a
blistering heat, or see such armies of mosquitoes? I believe they've
been here all these years probing into these old bones under the
impression that they're succulent. They've discovered their mistake
since I came," he added ruefully. "Six weeks ago one must have had
to hack a way through them in this Edmonton formation. In one short
week I've learned that the guiding star to some antediluvian monster
is the modern mosquito."
He seized his tools and began to hack a crevice.
"There's a rib here, a big fellow. I'm having a great time tickling
it--but the big brute never quivers a hair--if he ever had any. Down
there is a tooth. Would you mind taking a look and reporting on the
quality of dentistry prevailing in B.C. a million?" He sat back on
his heels. "I envy the advantages of those to whom my bones will be
fossils. Present palæontological graveyards have not to date yielded
up a single gold filling. If you wouldn't mind chalking off any
outlines of bones on that patch of rock down there, you could feel
that your day was not wasted."
Stamford yawned, made a few desultory marks, and sat down. The
Professor continued his hacking without bothering him further.
That night there was music at the H-Lazy Z; the banks of the Red Deer
canyon echoed for the first time to sounds prophetic of the day when
ranches will give place to farms, farms to towns. Professor Bulkeley
played, until he felt every eye fixed breathlessly on him; then he
rose in confusion and insisted on Mary Aikens taking his place. To
her accompaniment a chorus formed, but in a few minutes it had
dwindled to a duet. Stamford and Isabel withdrew to a corner.
Cockney sat smoking in gloomy silence. Even the yelping coyotes out
on the prairie ceased their shuddering clamour to listen--a space of
silence Imp did his resentful best to fill.
Stamford, seated by the screen in his room before climbing between
the sheets, heard the voices of brother and sister over his head.
After a minute he started to a guilty consciousness that he was
straining to hear what they said. Noisily he jerked the window down.
It seemed to him that he had just dropped to sleep when Bean hammered
at the screen to waken him for the trip to town.
On the long drive Stamford found the cowboy little more inclined to
talk than was the youthful driver who had brought him out. It was a
keen disappointment to the self-appointed detective, for he had
counted on Bean's affection for him providing the clues that were
evading him. The lanky cowboy was willing enough to talk on subjects
of no possible interest to Stamford, but of the ranch he had nothing
to say.
However, when, the second day afterwards, he and Bean floated on the
ferry across the South Saskatchewan and climbed the cut bank toward
the northern trail, Stamford felt that his trip was not wasted. For
one thing he carried in his pocket a duplicate of the stable key.
Also he had had a short conversation with Inspector Barker that clung
to the fringes of his consciousness.
"For an invalid, Stamford," mocked the Inspector, "you strike me as
no friend of the undertaker's. If I didn't know your holiday was a
real loss in dollars and cents, I'd say it was undiluted laziness. I
can't imagine anyone, after three months in this dollar-chasing
country, sacrificing cash for chronic fatigue. Or is the fair Isabel
there?"
"How did you know?" asked Stamford amiably.
"That's the little birdie that tells secrets to us married men. If
she hadn't come to the mountain, then the mountain---- How's the
Professor getting along with his new friends, the Red Deer dinosaurs?
What's more to the point, by the way, have you come across a pair of
big dogs that don't seem at home?"
"There's Imp," suggested Stamford.
"Who's Imp?"
"Imp is several degrees short of big--though he certainly doesn't
seem at home--unless Dakota's about. Legally he belongs to Mrs.
Aikens. As a matter of fact Dakota has him eating out of his hand.
The little chap attached himself to our rowdy friend at first glance.
Love at first sight. Took to him like a mouse to cheese."
The Inspector was more than amused. He asked so many questions that
Stamford realised how easy it was to make the little terrier
entertaining. Some of the brightest things he determined to repeat
to Isabel Bulkeley.
On the return Bean was more talkative, without saying anything of
value for Stamford's purposes.
As they rolled, in the late afternoon, over the gently waving prairie
toward the Red Deer, Stamford's weary eyes caught a movement on the
top of a rise to the west. It came once, and went, furtively,
Stamford was convinced. Without seeming to watch he kept his eyes
fixed on the ridge, and after a few minutes was rewarded by the tip
of a Stetson, as if someone were lying down, peering over at them.
Bean was sleepily flicking the broncos.
When two more Stetsons appeared beside the first, he made his mind
up. Calling Bean's wandering senses back to earth, he waved his
arms. Instantly the Stetsons disappeared. A moment later Dakota
loped over the ridge and down the slope. He drew up several yards
away and beckoned Bean to him. From the furtive glances in his
direction Stamford knew he was the subject of their early
conversation, Dakota questioning, Bean explaining. Then they turned
their backs on him. The owners of the other Stetsons did not show
themselves.
As Bean clambered back over the wheel Dakota shouted a last word:
"Get cookie to hustle a snack for you. But hurry. We'll wait. You
can do it in a couple of hours."
Bean flicked the whip and they started for home on the canter.
"They aren't giving you much rest," sympathised Stamford.
"Naw," replied Bean shortly.
"The work about a ranch is certainly a surprise to me. What does
Dakota want you for?"
"It's a hell of a life!" grumbled Bean. Thereafter he kept his lips
closed.
An hour later Stamford was eating in the ranch-house, trying to
answer with intelligent flippancy the questions poured at him. The
promise of the stable key burning a hole in his pocket was filling
his mind. To outwit Dakota was his sole ambition at the moment. If
he could get Hobbles from the locked stables----
Pleading fatigue, he retired early. For some time he heard the
conversation in the sitting-room, subdued for his sake, and then the
stair door closed behind the Bulkeleys. The sudden Western night had
fallen.