THE GIRL OF DRY BOTTOM
Hollis was not frightened, though he was in a position that might have
aroused fear or apprehension in any man's mind. He was alone, the man
had him covered with the rifle, and assuredly this was one of Dunlavey's
hirelings.
Hollis glanced swiftly around. Certain signs--some shrubbery that he saw
through the canyon, a bald butte or two rising in the distance--told him
that he was near the river. And Norton had told him to keep away from
the river trail. In his eagerness to explore the country he had
forgotten all about Norton's warning.
The prospect was not a hopeful one, yet Hollis could not have admitted
to feeling any alarm. He realized that had the man intended any
immediate harm he would have shot him down long before this--while he
had sat motionless in the saddle inspecting the place. Concerning the
man's intentions he could only speculate, but assuredly they were not
peaceful.
For a little time the man remained motionless and Hollis sat quiet,
looking at him. The weapon had not moved; its muzzle still menaced him
and he watched it closely, wondering whether the man would give him any
warning when about to pull the trigger.
Many minutes dragged and the man did not move. A slow anger began to
steal over Hollis; the man's inaction grated on his nerves.
"Well!" he challenged sharply. "What do you want?"
There was no answer. Hollis could see only the man's head and shoulders
projecting above the boulder, and the rifle--steady and level--menacing
him. With an exclamation of rage and disdain he seized the bridle rein
and pulled sharply on it, swinging the pony's head around. The rifle
crashed venomously; Hollis felt the right sleeve of his shirt flutter,
and he pulled the pony abruptly up.
"Just to show you!" came the man's voice, mockingly. "If you move again
until I give the word you won't know where you've been hit!"
Hollis was satisfied--the man undoubtedly meant business. He settled
back into the saddle and looked down at his shirt sleeve. The bullet had
passed very close to the arm. If the man had meant the bullet for that
particular spot he was a deadly marksman. In the face of such marvelous
shooting Hollis did not care to experiment further. But his anger had
not yet abated.
"No doubt you are enjoying yourself!" he said with bitter sarcasm. "But
the pleasure is all yours. I am not enjoying myself a bit, I assure you.
And I don't like the idea of being a target for you to shoot at!"
A laugh came back to Hollis--a strange, unnatural, sardonic cackle that,
in spite of his self-control, caused his flesh to creep. And then the
man's voice:
"No, you don't like it. I knew that all along. But you're going to stay
here for seven weeks while I shoot holes in you!" He laughed again, his
voice high and shrill, its cackling cadences filling the place.
"Seven weeks in Devil's Hollow!" came the voice again. "Seven weeks!
Seven weeks!"
Hollis felt his heart thumping heavily against his ribs, while a sinking
sensation in the pit of his stomach told him that his courage was
touched. He realized now why the man had not shot him down immediately.
He was a maniac!
For a few terrible seconds Hollis sat in the saddle while the world
reeled around him; while the rocks and cliffs danced fantastically.
Courage he had to be sure; he had already become resigned to death
before the man's rifle, but he had imagined the man to be in full
possession of his senses; imagined his death to have been planned out of
the deliberate coolness of reason. Such a death would have been bad
enough, but to meet death at the hands of a man mentally unbalanced!
Somehow it seemed different, seemed horribly unreal--like a terrible
nightmare.
It was some seconds before he regained control of himself, and then he
steadied himself in the saddle, assuring himself in a burst of bitter,
ironic humor that death at the hands of a crazy man could be no worse
than death at the hands of a rational one.
He looked up again, a defiant smile on his lips, to see that both man
and rifle had disappeared. In a flash he saw his chance and took
advantage of it. In an instant he was off his pony; in another he was
behind a convenient rock, breathing easier, his senses alert. For some
little time he remained in the shelter of the rock, awaiting the other
man's movements. He did not doubt that acting upon some freakish
impulse, the man had left his boulder and was even now stalking him from
some other direction. He peered carefully about him. He had no thought
of shooting the man--that would be murder, for the man was not mentally
responsible for his actions. His efforts must be centered solely upon
some plan for saving his own life.
To do this he realized that he must be careful. In view of the man's
unerring marksmanship it would be certain death for him to expose
himself for an instant. But he must take some chances. Convinced of this
he peered around the edge of his rock, taking a flashing glance around
him. The man was nowhere to be seen. Hollis waited some little time and
then taking another glance and not seeing the man, rose slowly to his
feet and crouched. Then, filled with a sudden, reckless impulse, he
sprang for another rock a dozen feet distant, expecting each instant to
hear the crash of the man's rifle. But he succeeded in gaining the
shelter of the other rock intact. Evidently the man was looking for him
in some other direction.
Emboldened with his success he grimly determined on advancing to another
rock some twenty or thirty feet farther on. As in the first instance he
succeeded in gaining it in safety. His maneuvering had been circuitous,
bringing him into a position from which he could see partly behind the
rock where the man had been concealed.
And now, having gained the second rock in safety, Hollis decided to take
no more chances. Sooner or later, he was convinced, the man was sure to
see him as he jumped. He did not like the picture that his imagination
conjured up. Therefore his actions were now marked with more caution. It
took him a long time to gain a position where he could peer over the
upper edge of the rock behind which he was concealed. But he gained it
finally and then dropped back with an exclamation of surprise. He had
caught a glimpse of the man. He was lying face upward behind the
boulder, his arms outstretched, his rifle lying in the dust near him.
Hollis was tempted to make a run for his pony, mount, and race out of
the hollow. But a second thought restrained him. He had considered the
man's action merely a ruse, but why should he attempt it after he had
once had an opportunity to make use of his rifle? Still for an instant
Hollis hesitated, for he knew there was no rule by which a maniac's
actions might be judged. Then with a grim laugh he sprang over the few
feet that separated him from the man, approaching him carefully, still
slightly doubtful.
But the man was not shamming; Hollis could see that when he had
approached close enough to see his face. It bore a curious pallor, his
eyes were wide open and staring, and some foam flecked his lips.
Evidently he had been overcome by a paroxysm of his malady at about the
moment Hollis had discovered it.
Hollis stepped back and heaved a sigh of relief. Then he stepped over to
where the man's rifle lay, taking it up and removing the cartridges.
Returning to the man he removed the cartridges from his belt and drew
his six-shooter from its holster, determined that when the man recovered
from his stupor there would be no danger of a recurrence of the previous
incident. Then he leaned against the boulder to await the man's
recovery.
Ten minutes later, while he still watched the man, he heard a clatter of
hoofs. Determined not to be taken by surprise again he drew his own
six-shooter and peered cautiously around the edge of the boulder. What
he saw caused him to jam the weapon back into its holster very
hurriedly. Then he stepped out of his concealment with a red,
embarrassed face to greet a young woman whose expression of doubt and
fear was instantly replaced by one of pleasure and recognition as she
caught sight of him. It was the girl of Dry Bottom.
"Oh!" she said. "Is it you? I was afraid----" And then she saw the man
and was off her pony in a flash and at his head, supporting it and
pouring something down his throat from a bottle.
She rose presently, embarrassment crimsoning her face. Hollis saw her
lips quiver when she turned and spoke to him.
"He will be all right--now," she said, facing Hollis, her eyes drooping
as though ashamed to meet his. "He has had another attack of his--his
trouble." She looked suddenly up at Hollis, bravely trying to repress
her emotion--but with little success.
"You heard what he--Big Bill Dunlavey--said about my brother?" she
questioned, her eyes full and moist. Hollis nodded and she continued
rapidly, her voice quavering: "Well, he told the truth." Her voice
trailed away into a pitiful wail, and she stepped over and leaned
against the boulder, sobbing quietly into her hands. "That's why it
hurts so," she added.
Hollis yielded to a sudden wave of sympathy. He stood close to her,
aware of his inability to cope with this strange situation. She looked
so small, so out of place, he felt that whatever he did or said would
not help matters. What he did say, however, assisted in restoring her
composure.
"I am glad I slugged him!" he said heatedly.
She turned suddenly to him, her eyes flashing spiritedly through the
moisture in them.
"Oh, it was great!" she declared, her hands clenching at the
recollection. "I could have shaken hands with you--with the hand that
struck him!"
Hollis smiled whimsically. "I've still got the hand," he said
significantly, extending it toward her--"if you have not reconsidered."
He laughed as she took it and pressed it firmly. "I rather think that
we've both got a shake coming on that," he added. "I didn't understand
then about your brother or I would have added a few extra pounds to that
punch."
Her face clouded as he mentioned her brother. "Poor Ed," she said in a
low voice. She went over to the man, leaning over him and smoothing back
the hair from his forehead, Hollis looking glumly on, clenching his
teeth in impotent sympathy.
"These attacks do not come often," she volunteered as she again
approached Hollis. "But they do come," she added, her voice catching.
Hollis did not reply, feeling that he had no right to be inquisitive.
But she continued, slightly more at ease and plainly pleased to have
some one in whom she might confide.
"Ed was injured a year ago through a fall," she informed Hollis. "He was
breaking a wild horse and a saddle girth broke and he fell, striking on
his head. The wound healed, but he has never been the same. At intervals
these attacks come on and then he is irresponsible--and dangerous." She
shuddered. "You were watching him," she added, looking suddenly at him;
"did you find him as he is or did he attack you? Frequently when he has
these attacks he comes here to Devil's Hollow, explaining that he
expects to find some of Dunlavey's men. He doesn't like Dunlavey," she
added with a flush, "since Dunlavey----" She hesitated and then went on
determinedly--"well, since Dunlavey told him that he wanted to marry me.
But Ed says that Dunlavey has a wife in Tucson and--well, I wouldn't
have married him anyway--the brute!"
"Exactly," agreed Hollis gravely, trying to repress a thrill of
satisfaction; "of course you couldn't marry him." He understood now the
meaning of Dunlavey's words to her in Dry Bottom. "If you wasn't such a
damn prude," he had said. He looked at the girl with a sudden, grim
smile. "He said something about running you and your brother out of the
country," he said; "of course you won't allow him to do that?"
The girl's slight figure stiffened. "I would like to see him try it!"
she declared defiantly.
Hollis grinned. "That's the stuff!" he sympathized. "I rather think that
Dunlavey is something of a bluffer--that folks in this country have
allowed him to have his own way too much."
She shook her head doubtfully. "I don't know about that," she returned.
Then she smiled. "You are the new owner of the Circle Bar, aren't you?"
Hollis startled, looking at her with a surprised smile. "Yes," he
returned, "I am the new owner. But how did you know it? I haven't told
anyone here except Neil Norton and Judge Graney. Have Norton and the
Judge been talking?"
"They haven't talked to me," she assured him with a demure smile. "You
see," she added, "you were a stranger in Dry Bottom, and after you left
the Fashion you went right down to the court house. I knew Judge Graney
had been your father's friend. And then I saw Neil Norton coming into
town with the buckboard." She laughed. "You see, it wasn't very hard to
add two and two."
"Why, no," Hollis agreed, "it wasn't. But how did you happen to see me
go down to the court house?"
"Why, I watched you!" she returned. And then suddenly aware of her
mistake in admitting that she had felt an interest in him at their first
meeting, she lowered her gaze in confusion and stood, kicking with her
booted toe into a hummock, her face suddenly very red.
The situation might have been embarrassing for her had not her brother
created a diversion by suddenly sighing and struggling to sit up. The
girl was at his side in an instant, assisting him. The young man's
bewilderment was pitiful. He sat silent for a full minute, gazing first
at his sister and then at Hollis, and finally at his surroundings. Then,
when a rational gleam had come into his eyes he bowed his head, a blush
of shame sweeping over his face and neck.
"I expect I've been at it again," he muttered, without looking up.
The girl leaned over him, reassuring him, patting his face lovingly,
letting him know by all a woman's arts of the sympathy and love she bore
for him. Hollis watched her with a grim, satisfied smile. If he had had
a sister he would have hoped that she would be like her. He stepped
forward and seized the young man by the arm, helping him to his feet.
"You are right now," he assured him; "there has been no harm done."
Standing, the young man favored Hollis with a careful inspection. He
flushed again. "You're the man that rode through the draw," he said. "I
saw you and thought you were one of Dunlavey's men. I shot at you once,
and was going to shoot again, but something cracked in my head. I hope I
didn't hit you." Embarrassment again seized him; his eyes drooped. "Of
course you are not one of Dunlavey's men," he added, "or you wouldn't be
here, talking to sis. No friend of Dunlavey's could do that." He looked
at the girl with a tender smile. "I don't know what I'd do if it wasn't
for her," he added, speaking to Hollis. "But I expect it's a good thing
that I'm not crazy all the time." He looked searchingly at Hollis. "I've
never seen you before," he said. "Who are you?"
"I am Kent Hollis."
The young man's eyes lighted. "Not Jim Hollis's son?" he asked.
Hollis nodded. The young man's face revealed genuine pleasure. "You
going to stay in this here country?" he asked.
"I am going to run the Circle Bar," returned Hollis slowly.
"Bully!" declared the young man. "There's some folks around here said
you wouldn't have nerve enough to stay." He made a wry face. "But I
reckon you've got nerve or you'd have hit the breeze when I started to
stampede." He suddenly held out a hand. "I like you," he said
impulsively. "You and me are going to be friends. Shake!"
Hollis saw a smile of pleasure light up the girl's face, which she tried
to conceal by brushing the young man's clothing with a gloved hand,
meanwhile keeping him between her and Hollis.
Hollis stood near the boulder, watching them as they prepared to depart,
the girl telling her brother that he would find his pony on the plains
beyond the canyon.
"I am glad I didn't hit you," the young man told Hollis as he started
away with the girl. "If you are not scared off you might take a run down
to the shack some time--it's just down the creek a ways."
Hollis hesitated and then, catching the girl's glance, he smiled.
"I can't promise when," he said, looking at the girl, "but you may be
sure that I will look you up the first chance I get."
He stood beside the boulder until he saw them disappear around the wall
of the canyon. Then with a satisfied grin he walked to his pony,
mounted, and was off through the draw toward the Circle Bar ranchhouse.