HOW A RUSTLER ESCAPED
When Hollis got out of bed at six o'clock that same morning he heard
surprising sounds outside. Slipping on his clothes he went to the window
and looked out. Men were yelling at one another, screeching delightful
oaths, capering about hatless, coatless, in the rain that still came
steadily down. The corral yard was a mire of sticky mud in which the
horses reared and plunged in evident appreciation of the welcome change
from dry heat to lifegiving moisture. Riderless horses stood about, no
one caring about the saddles, several calves capered awkwardly in the
pasture. Norton's dog--about which he had joked to Hollis during the
latter's first ride to the Circle Bar--was yelping joyously and running
madly from one man to another.
Norton himself stood down by the door of the bunkhouse, grinning with
delight. Near him stood Lemuel Train, and several of the other small
ranchers whose stock had grazed for more than two weeks on the Circle
Bar range without objection from Hollis. They saw him and motioned for
him to come down, directing original oaths at him for sleeping so late
on so "fine a morning."
He dressed hastily and went down. They all ate breakfast in the mess
house, the cook being adjured to "spread it on for all he was
worth"--which he did. Certainly no one left the mess house hungry.
During the meal Lemuel Train made a speech on behalf of himself and the
other owners who had enjoyed Hollis's hospitality, assuring him that
they were "with him" from now on. Then they departed, each going his
separate way to round up his cattle and drive them back to the home
ranch.
The rain continued throughout the day and far into the night. The dried,
gasping country absorbed water until it was sated and then began to shed
it off into the arroyos, the gullies, the depressions, and the river
beds. Every hollow overflowed with it; it seemed there could never be
another drought.
Before dawn on the following day all the small ranchers had departed.
Several of them, on their way to their home ranches, stopped off at the
Circle Bar to shake hands with Hollis and assure him of their
appreciation. Lemuel Train did not forget to curse Dunlavey.
"We ain't likely to forget how he stood on the water proposition," he
said.
After Train had departed Norton stood looking after him. Then he turned
and looked at Hollis, his eyes narrowing quizzically. "You've got in
right with that crowd," he said. "Durned if I don't believe you knowed
all the time that it was goin' to rain before Dunlavey's tenth day was
over!"
Hollis smiled oddly. "Perhaps," he returned; "there is no law, moral or
otherwise, to prevent a man from looking a little ahead."
After breakfast Hollis gave orders to have Greasy prepared for travel,
and an hour later he and the range boss, both armed with rifles, rode
out of the corral yard with Greasy riding between them and took the Dry
Bottom trail.
The earth had already dried; the trail was hard, level, and dustless,
and traveling was a pleasure. But neither of the three spoke a word to
one another during the entire trip to Dry Bottom. Greasy bestrode his
horse loosely, carelessly defiant; Norton kept a watchful eye on him,
and Hollis rode steadily, his gaze fixed thoughtfully on the trail.
At ten o'clock they rode into Dry Bottom. There were not many persons
about, but those who were gave instant evidence of interest in the three
by watching them closely as they rode down the street to the sheriff's
office, dismounted, and disappeared inside.
The sheriff's office was in a little frame shanty not over sixteen feet
square, crude and unfinished. There were a front and back door, two
windows--one in the side facing the court house, the other in the front.
For furniture there were a bench, two chairs, some shelves, a cast iron
stove, a wooden box partly filled with saw-dust which was used as a
cuspidor, and a rough wooden table which served as a desk. In a chair
beside the desk sat a tall, lean-faced man, with a nose that suggested
an eagle's beak, with its high, thin, arched bridge, little, narrowed,
shifting eyes, and a hard mouth whose lips were partly concealed under a
drooping, tobacco-stained mustache. He turned as the three men entered,
leaning back in his chair, his legs a-sprawl, motioning them to the
chairs and the bench. They filed in silently. Greasy dropped carelessly
into one of the chairs, Norton took another near him, but Hollis
remained standing.
"You are the sheriff, I suppose?" inquired the latter.
The official spat copiously into the wooden box without removing his
gaze from the three visitors.
"Yep," he returned shortly, his voice coming with a truculent snap. "You
wantin' the sheriff?"
Hollis saw a swift, significant glance pass between him and Greasy and
he smiled slightly.
"Yes," he returned quietly; "we want you. We are delivering this man
into your custody."
"What's he done?" demanded the sheriff.
"I charge him with stealing two of my steers," returned Hollis. "Several
of my men discovered him at work the day before yesterday and----"
"Hold on a minute now!" interrupted the sheriff. "Let's git this thing
goin' accordin' to the law." He spat again into the wooden box, cocked
his head sideways and surveyed Hollis with a glance in which there was
much insolence and contempt. "Who might you be?" he questioned.
"My name is Hollis," returned the latter quietly, his eyes meeting the
other's steadily. "I own the Circle Bar."
"H'm!" The sheriff crossed his legs and stuck his thumbs into the
arm-holes of his vest, revealing a nickle-plated star on the lapel of
the latter. "H'm. Your name's Hollis, an' you own the Circle Bar. Seems
I've heard of you." He squinted his eyes at Hollis. "You're Jim Hollis's
boy, ain't you?" His eyes flashed with a sudden, contemptuous light.
"Tenderfoot, ain't you? Come out here to try an' show folks how to run
things?"
Hollis's face slowly paled. He saw Greasy grinning. "I suppose it makes
little difference to you what I am or what I came out here for," he said
quietly; "though, if I were to be required to give an opinion I should
say that there is room for improvement in this county in the matter of
applying its laws."
The sheriff laughed harshly. "You'll know more about this country after
you've been here a while," he sneered.
"Mebbe he'll know more about how to run a law shebang, too," dryly
observed Norton, "after he's watched Bill Watkins run her a little."
"I don't reckon anyone ast you to stick your gab in this here affair?"
demanded the sheriff of Norton.
"No," returned Norton, drawling, "no one asked me. But while we're
handin' out compliments we might as well all have a hand in it. It
strikes me that when a man's runnin' a law shop he ought to run her."
"I reckon I'll run her without any help from you, Norton!" snapped the
sheriff.
"Why, sure!" agreed the latter, his gaze level as his eyes met the
sheriff's, his voice even and sarcastic. "But I'm tellin' you that this
man's my friend an' if there's any more of them compliments goin' to be
handed around I'm warnin' you that you want to hand them out soft an'
gentle like. That's all. I reckon we c'n now proceed."
The sheriff's face bloated poisonously. He flashed a malignant glance at
Hollis. "Well," he snapped, "what's the charge?"
"I have already told you," returned Hollis. "It is stealing cattle."
"How stealin' them?" demanded the Sheriff truculenty.
"Changing the brand," Hollis informed him. He related how Ace and Weary
had come upon the prisoner while the latter was engaged in changing his
brand to the Circle Cross.
"They see him brandin'?" questioned the sheriff when Hollis had
concluded.
Hollis told him that the two men had come upon Greasy after the brand
had been applied, but that the cattle bore the Circle Bar ear-mark, and
that Greasy had built a fire and that branding irons had been found in
his possession--which which he had tried to hide when discovered by the
Circle Bar men.
"Then your men didn't really see him doin' the brandin'?" questioned
Watkins.
Hollis was forced to admit that they had not. Watkins smiled
sarcastically.
"I reckon you're runnin' a little bit wild," he remarked. "Some of your
stock has been rebranded an' you're chargin' a certain man with doin'
it--only you didn't see him doin' it." He turned to Greasy. "What you
got to say about this, Greasy?" he demanded.
Greasy grinned blandly at Hollis. "This guy's talkin' through his hat,"
he sneered. "I ain't allowin' that I branded any of his cattle."
Watkins smiled. "There don't seem to be nothin' to this case a-tall--not
a-tall. There ain't nobody goin' to be took into custody by me for
stealin' cattle unless they're ketched with the goods--an' that ain't
been proved so far." He turned to Hollis. "You got anything more to say
about it?" he demanded.
"Only this," returned Hollis slowly and evenly, "I have brought this man
here. I charge him with stealing my cattle. To use your term--he was
caught 'with the goods.' He is guilty. If you take him into custody and
bring him to trial I shall have two witnesses there to prove what I have
already told you. If you do not take him into custody, it is perfectly
plain that you are deliberately shielding him--that you are making a
joke of the law."
Watkins's face reddened angrily. "Mebbe I'm makin' a joke of it----" he
began.
"Of course we can't force you to arrest this man," resumed Hollis,
interrupting Watkins. "Unfortunately the government has not yet awakened
to the fact that such men as you are a public menace and danger. I did
not expect you to arrest him--I tell you that frankly. I merely brought
him here to see whether it were true that you were leagued with Dunlavey
against the other ranchers in the country. You are, of course.
Therefore, as we cannot secure justice by appealing to you we will be
forced to adopt other means."
The sheriff's right hand dropped to his gun-holster. He sneered, his
lips writhing. "Mebbe you mean----" he began.
"I ain't lettin' this here situation get beyond my control," came
Norton's voice, cold and even, as his six-shooter came out and was
shoved menacingly forward. "Whatever he means, Watkins, he's my friend
an' you ain't runnin' in no cold lead proposition on him." He smiled
mirthlessly.
Watkins's face paled; his right hand fell away from the pistol holster.
There was a sound at the door; it swung suddenly open and Dunlavey's
gigantic frame loomed massively in the opening.
"I'm looking for Greasy!" he announced in a soft, silky voice, looking
around at the four men with a comprehending, appreciative smile. "I was
expecting to find him here," he added as his gaze sought out the
prisoner, "after I heard that he'd been nabbed by the Circle Bar men."
Norton smiled coldly. "He's here, Bill," he said evenly. "He's stayin'
here till Mr. Hollis says it's time for him to go."
He did not move the weapon in his hand, but a certain glint in his eyes
told Dunlavey that the pistol was not in his hand for mere show. The
latter smiled knowingly.
"I'm not interfering with the law," he said mockingly. "And I certainly
ain't bucking your game, Norton." He turned to Watkins, speaking with
broad insinuation: "Of course you are putting a charge against Greasy,
Watkins?" he said.
They all caught the sheriff's flush; all saw the guilty embarrassment in
his eyes as he answered that he had not. Dunlavey turned to Hollis with
a bland smile.
"Have you any objection to allowing Greasy to go now, Mr. Hollis?"
Hollis's smile was no less bland as his gaze met Dunlavey's. "Not the
slightest objection, Mr. Dunlavey," he returned. "I congratulate you
upon the manner in which you have trained your servants!" He ignored
Dunlavey and smiled at Norton. "Mr. Norton," he said with polite
mockery, "I feel certain that you agree with me that we have no wish to
contaminate this temple of justice with our presence."
He bowed with mock politeness as he strode to the door and stepped down
into the street. Norton followed him, grinning, though he did not sheath
his weapon until he also was in the street.
As they strode away from the door they turned to see Dunlavey looking
out after them, his face wreathed in a broad smile.
"There is plenty of law in Union County, Mr. Hollis," he said, "if you
know how to handle it!"