On the evening that Sheriff Warburton left Tinnemaha Pete slumbering
beside the camp fire at Blue Mud Spring and rode off for the
Huntington ranch, Lemuel prepared supper early for himself and
Lennox in order that he might have as much time as possible to
devote to the laborious task of writing Dot a letter.
In a large pantry off the kitchen, which prior to Lennox’s coming
had served as a storeroom, the mining engineer lay on a cot,
helpless; his broken leg was mending as rapidly as could be
expected, according to the doctor who had made his clandestine
visits under cover of darkness.
Around sundown, Lex Sangerly had returned from Geerusalem, following
his talk with Quintell, and stopping long enough to leave the mail,
motored away to the railroad construction camp, thirty miles
distant, declaring he would not be back until late.
So, after he had washed the dishes, Lemuel began elaborate
preparations, calculated to usher in becomingly his penmanship
ordeal. He trimmed the tall kitchen-table lamp, polished its chimney
carefully, got out a writing tablet, envelope, pen and ink, filled
and lighted his pipe, rolled up his sleeves, and finally squared
himself firmly before the table and started, after a long interval
of painful reflection.
He had so much to tell Dot. He must notify her that Lex was making
the ranch his headquarters; that Dick Lennox was there also, after
nearly having been killed by the Quintell gang; that the Geerusalem
branch of the Mohave & Southwestern was due to pass in front of the
ranch-house door; that he had sold four tons of alfalfa; that her
pet cow, Bess, was a proud mother, and that he had collected
forty-three eggs that day.
After considerable feinting with the pen, he got under way. It was a
warm, quiet night. The pen scratched and scratched hesitatingly. The
patient old clock on the wall tick-ticked on and on tirelessly. A
contented bullfrog out in the cool garden began a hoarse pæan, a
dedication to the silence, and broke off midway in a measure. Lemuel
finished his second page, then sat back and fired his pipe. With a
critical eye, he read what he had written:
Geerusalem, Aug. 29.
My own deares dorter: I jest got yore welcom leter an was orful
glad to heer you bin doin so fine in skule. Lex Sangerly he tol me
all about you givin him the $20,000. I allus knowed you was as
hones as the day is long, sweethart, an I tol him so an he sed you
sure was the fines gal he ever seen. An I sed they didn make em no
better, an I was proud of you. You orter herd us. You sure wood
a-bin stuck on yoreself. But lissen, honey, an I want that you
should bare in mind that bein yore ol dad Im allus lookin out for
yore interes. An that is, you gotter fergit this Billy Gee galoot.
I dont know why he give you that money xcept that Sangerly sez it
was to help us out. But you gotter figger hes a outlaw, an aint no
good nohow. So help me Moses, if I git another chanct at him I
sure will drag him off to the calaboose.
Grinning proudly, Lemuel picked up his pen again, dipped it in the
ink, and started on his third page. Then he stopped. The kitchen
doorknob was squeaking. He stared at it and saw to his dismay that
it was moving. Some hand was trying it. His heart quickened
suddenly. He remembered that he had not turned the key!
It was some distance to the door; but his rifle stood in the corner,
just out of reach. He slid cautiously out of his chair to get the
weapon. At that very moment, however, the door had opened and
closed, and a man stood in the room, his six-shooter covering
Lemuel.
“Pull down the shades, Huntington! Git a hustle on you!” the
intruder commanded quietly, as he locked the door.
The rancher gazed at him, horror growing in his eyes. His visitor
was Billy Gee! Arrived at last was the hour he had so long dreaded,
though he had believed it indefinitely postponed; for he had been
certain the outlaw would hesitate to make an overt move against him
while Lennox and Sangerly were there. But his Nemesis had come, and
now Lemuel vividly recalled the fellow’s dire threat, made on that
eventful morning in Warburton’s room in Geerusalem. He grew faint
with terror and, trembling violently, lost no time in obeying the
other’s order.
“Now, sit down!” directed Billy Gee. He waited until Lemuel slumped
weakly into his seat, then he drew up a chair to the opposite side
of the table, holstered his gun and, his eyes never leaving the
rancher’s face, got out the makings and flipped a cigarette
together.
Lemuel watched him in fearful fascination, trying to fathom his
intentions, hoping in vain that by some means, Lennox, helpless
though he was in the grip of the plaster cast, might rescue him from
his awful predicament. After a moment, it began to dawn on him that
Billy Gee was not displaying those evidences of rage and hatred that
he felt certain should forecast revenge. In fact, he thought the
outlaw seemed friendly, notwithstanding the steely glitter in his
eyes. At any rate, he told himself, the fellow looked well-fed,
well-groomed, handsome indeed, compared to that wan, hollow-eyed,
half-dead wretch he had delivered to Bob Warburton on that
never-to-be-forgotten morning.
“What’re you shakin’ about?” asked Billy Gee presently. “I had an
idea you was gritty, the way you acted that time you herded me into
camp.” He showed his even teeth in a hard grin. “I promised I’d make
you pay, Huntington. You remember that? I ain’t forgot it, but I
ain’t ready yet. I jest dropped in to have a quiet leetle chat with
you. I see Lex Sangerly is stoppin’ here with you, an’ the minin’
engineer, Lennox. How’s he gettin’ along?”
“He—what d’you want? I’m busy. I’m—I’m writin’,” burst out Lemuel
nervously.
“I hear Miss Dot is doin’ fine at the university,” said the other,
with a glance at the letter. “I wish you’d give her my best
reegards. You sure got a lady for a daughter, Huntington, an’ it
ain’t from yore side of the fam’ly either.”
A short, painful silence fell. Billy Gee’s glance wandered to the
storeroom where Lennox lay.
“Grab the lamp! I want to see how he’s makin’ out,” he said, rising
to his feet as he spoke.
Preceded by Lemuel bearing the light, he crossed the kitchen and
entered the little room. Halting beside the cot he smiled down at
its occupant.
“Hello, pard! How’re you feelin’?”
Lennox regarded him curiously a moment, then grinned. “You’re the
man who saved my life, aren’t you? I’m feeling better than I did
that night. My leg is knitting, but it’s hell lying here.”
“It sure must be. I reckon you’ll come out all right, though. Say,
I’d lay poorty low if I was you! The Quintell bunch’s after you, red
hot.”
“But why?” argued Lennox. “I’m not in Geerusalem. They’ve run me
out. I’ve quit.”
Billy Gee nodded. “That’s jest it. They’re skeert you’ll talk. You
know too much about their leetle game. I got the straight tip.
They’re set on gettin’ you.”
Alarm crept into the other’s face. “And I’m flat on my back, unable
to protect myself. That’s certainly cheerful news.”
“Sorry, I couldn’t give you nothin’ better,” said Billy Gee simply.
Some moments later he turned to leave the room. “Me and Huntington’s
got business together if you’ll excuse us. Hope you’ll come out all
right.”
Once back in the kitchen, the table between them, the outlaw studied
Lemuel speculatively for a few seconds.
“What did them two railroad detectives do the night I rambled off in
their automobile? Sorter jolted ’em, didn’t it?” he asked finally.
“They didn’t do nothin’. They was sore, of course, an’ started
quarrelin’ among themselves. I s’pose you knowed they left here
to-day?” Lemuel paused and added: “I—I oughter mebby thank you for
doin’ me a favor. They was goin’ to arrest me.”
Billy Gee laughed softly. “I heerd ’em gabbin’ about it. Miss Dot
turned the money back to Lex Sangerly, didn’t she? I’m glad she
did—now.” He shifted in his chair, placed his elbows on the table,
and covered the rancher with an intense look. “I come to ask a favor
off o’ you, Huntington. It ain’t a favor either. You owe it to me. I
give you yore start, so to speak. You made ten thousand dollars off
o’ me—sold me like you would one of yore cows. I’ll never forget
that. You’re goin’ to pay heavy for it some o’ these days. See if
you don’t! Right now I’m askin’ what’s part mine, savvy? I want you
to give Tinnemaha Pete a deed o’ gift to that hill on the far end of
the ranch.”
Lemuel sat bolt upright, then a hoarse exclamation burst from him.
He paled through his sunburn. “Good Lord, man! You don’t aim to take
the leetle I got?” he choked.
“If that hill was bringin’ you in anythin’, I wouldn’t ask it,
Huntington—bad as I’d like to hurt you,” said Billy Gee evenly. “But
it ain’t. A steer’d starve to death for the grass that’s on it, and
you know it. Tinnemaha is lookin’ to do some prospectin’ an’ he
don’t figger to deevelop another man’s property. He’ll be here to
see you to-morrow or nex’ day. An’ you see that you give him a deed,
see, or—well, I’ll be back, you kin gamble on that!”
“But can’t you see, I got two full quarter sections, an’ cuttin’ off
that strip’ll ruin ’em?” cried Lemuel, in desperation. “An’ there’s
my poor, leetle gal tryin’ to git a edjucation, an’——”
“Miss Dot’ll manage fine an’ dandy, I reckon,” asserted the bandit.
“I hear she’s livin’ with Mrs. Liggs, an’ I don’t know of a better
woman in the world than her. Mind what I’m a-tellin’ you,
Huntington! You give ol’ Tinnemaha Pete a quit-claim title to that
there hill, an’ don’t lose no time doin’ it. D’you understand? I’m
goin’ to keep cases on you, an’ if I find out you ain’t done it, God
help you!”
He broke off short and flapped his hat suddenly at the lamp,
plunging the kitchen in darkness. His trained ear had caught a sound
outside the house. The next instant he had flitted around the table
and was standing over Lemuel.
“Don’t move! Don’t answer, no matter what!” he whispered into the
rancher’s ear.
Approaching from the direction of Geerusalem, now came the gentle
purring of an automobile. Lemuel in the grip of mixed emotions
waited breathlessly. He waited for Billy Gee to speak. He was not
sure where the outlaw was. He strained his ears through the
darkness, listening. The machine came to a stop before the ranch.
That could not be Sangerly, he knew. Who then? Ah, the doctor!
“You’d better git outside if you’re goin’ to do any shootin’,”
Lemuel said in subdued tones, addressing the gloom. “That’s Doc
Porter comin’ to see Lennox. Don’t go to killin’ him.”
There was no reply.
Heavy footfalls sounded on the kitchen porch. They stopped and went
suddenly blundering down the back steps and on through the garden,
bound for the front of the house. A revolver began roaring savagely;
a strident voice boomed on the night, commanding a halt. Lemuel
reached out a cautious hand for the outlaw, feeling for him, but
found he was no longer standing beside him. He sprang to his feet,
then caught up his rifle out of the corner, and groped his way
toward the front door.
“Mr. Huntington, what was that? Is that them after me? Huntington,
are you—— Give me a gun, man! Don’t let me die like a rat,” cried
Lennox wildly, his voice ringing through the house.
“Rat, be damned!” called back Lemuel. “It’s the bandit friend of
yourn I’m after. The skunk! Here’s where he gits what’s a-comin’ to
him.”
He charged along the dark hall and got to the front door. It stood
wide open. Billy Gee had fled. Halting undecidedly on the threshold,
his rifle held ready, Lemuel glared about. The automobile stood at
the gate, its headlights blazing. He heard the man of the heavy
footfalls plunging down the gravel walk, then his harsh,
authoritative tones.
“Stick up yore hands, in the name of the law! Up with ’em, I said,
or I’ll blow you to kingdom come!” A dramatic pause, then: “Now
march over to the house! Thought you could visit round free an’
easy, eh? Well, yore visitin’ days is about over, sport. Git a
hustle on you!”
“This is an outrage, officer. You’ve got the wrong man,” protested
the prisoner indignantly.
“Yeh? Well, we’ll see about that. You put it over pretty on the
train, kid, but you ain’t never doin’ it ag’in, let me tell you. If
you don’t shet yore face, I will. Hey, Lem! Make a light in there.
This is Bob Warburton.”
The sheriff, following the clew given him by Tinnemaha Pete—that
Billy Gee was at the Huntington ranch—had ridden direct from Blue
Mud Spring. Creeping onto the kitchen porch, he had heard the outlaw
and Lemuel talking. He had seen the light suddenly extinguished, and
had heard the approaching machine. Racing around the house, he had
caught sight of a man dodging into the gloom of the garden shrubbery
and had apprehended him.
Now, at the sheriff’s words, Lemuel hurried back into the kitchen
and lit the lamp. Presently Warburton appeared herding his captive
unceremoniously before him. Lemuel stared blankly at the latter, and
the official, giving him one look, burst into a torrent of curses.
His prisoner was Jule Quintell, pale, unnerved, but furious over the
rough reception he had received.
“Isn’t this rather cheap comedy for the sheriff of San Buenaventura
County to pull?” sneered the broker. His attitude was one of
contempt and defiance.
The sheriff, in the act of hurrying out to make a search of the
premises, wheeled, flushing with rage. “Say that ag’in, mister!” He
spoke in a voice that Lemuel, in the many years he had known him,
had never heard him use before.
“I’m Jule Quintell, of Geerusalem, Sheriff Warburton. I protest
emphatically against this sort of treatment,” began the man,
assuming an air of resentful dignity.
“Oh, you are! Well, let me tell you somepn, Quintell: You jest make
another crack like that, an’ see what happens. I’ve heerd you’re the
big I-am over in these parts,” continued Warburton, glowering at the
other. “An’ they tell me you got all kinds of pull. But don’t you
ever git in my way, Quintell. D’you understand?”
The broker extracted a cigarette from his dainty gold case. “That’s
more of an order than a threat, isn’t it, sheriff?” he asked coolly.
“You can find that out for yoreself,” retorted Warburton.
Quintell chuckled. “Very well, sheriff. Should the opportunity ever
present itself, I most certainly will make the test. Now, if you’ll
excuse me, I’d like to take up a small business matter with Mr.
Huntington here.” He turned toward Lemuel. “And how have you been,
Lem? I hear that Billy Gee is at large again. How unfortunate—after
you went to all the trouble and danger of capturing him!”
Warburton’s face flamed under the thrust. He opened his mouth to
speak, then closed it hard over his set teeth. Turning on his heel,
he walked out of the kitchen, gripping his six-shooter in a hand
that shook with rage.