A HIDDEN TRAIL
A pounding at his door woke Loudon in the morning.
"'Lo," he called, sleepily.
"Time for yore dinner!" shouted Mrs. Burr through the panels. "It's
noon."
"I'll get right up."
"Yuh will not. Yuh'll stay right where yuh are. I'm comin' in."
She entered, bearing a basin and towels.
"There," she said, setting the basin on the chair at the bedside.
"There, yuh can wash yore own face. Hungry?"
"Some," he sputtered through streaming water.
"That's good. I got a nice steak an' 'taters an' gravy an' hot bread,
an' there's a friend wants to see yuh."
"Who?"
"Swing Tunstall. He just rode in from the Flyin' M. I'm goin' out
there this afternoon. Dunno how long I'll be gone. But yuh'll be all
right. I done asked Lil Mace to come over here an' live while I'm
away. Lil an' Kate an' Dorothy'll look after yuh. An' mind yuh, do
what they tell yuh, or I'll make it hot for yuh when I come back."
"What's the matter? Anythin' happened at the ranch?"
"Oh, nothin' much--over a hundred head o' hosses run off, an' Scotty's
got two bullets in him."
"What!"
"Yep. That's why I'm goin' out. Got to look after Scotty. Swing says
he ain't hurt bad, an' Scotty is tougher'n back-leather, but still
there'd ought to be a woman there, so I'm elected. No, I can't give
yuh no details. Ain't got time. Swing will tell yuh all he knows.
Good-bye, an' don't forget what I said 'bout mindin' them three girls,
Tom."
She picked up the basin and hastened from the room, leaving the door
open. Through the doorway Loudon could see a section of the kitchen
and Kate and Dorothy busy at the stove. But the objects in view did
not register any impressions on his shocked brain. Scotty shot! A
hundred horses stolen! Here was a grim matter indeed, one requiring
instant action, and he was laid up with a sprained ankle! Very
arbitrary ladies, the three Fates. Heartily, but under his breath, for
Dorothy was coming, Loudon cursed his luck.
"Well, invalid," smiled Dorothy, "here's your dinner. Shall I feed
you, or perhaps you'd prefer Mrs. Mace or Kate? How about it?"
"I only sprained my ankle," said Loudon, red to the ears.
He was wearing one of the Captain's nightgowns. The middle-aged
scrutiny of the mother had not quickened him to the fact that the
garment was much too small for him, but under the eyes of the daughter
he became burningly self-conscious. The knowledge that Scotty had
advised Dorothy to fall in love with him did not lessen the agony of
the moment.
"I'll put it on this chair," said tactful Dorothy, partly fathoming the
cause of Loudon's distress. "Would you like to see Mr. Tunstall?"
"Shore I would. I didn't know he was here at the house."
"He's camping on the doorstep. I'll send him in. Isn't it awful about
Scotty Mackenzie? And all those horses, too. Nothing as bad as this
ever happened in Sunset County before."
"It won't happen again. Not right away, yuh can bet on that."
Dorothy withdrew, and Swing Tunstall entered. The bristle-haired young
man shut the door, grinned toothfully at Loudon, and sat down
cross-legged on the floor.
"Howdy, Swing," said Loudon, "why ain't yuh chasin' the hoss thieves?"
"'Cause," replied Tunstall, "Doubleday sent me in to tell the sheriff
an' get a doc for Scotty. The doc's on his way, an' the sheriff's due
in to-day from Rocket. All the outfit, 'cept Doubleday an' Giant
Morton, are cavortin' over the hills an' far away a-sniffin' to pick up
the trail."
"When did it happen?"
"Well, as near as we could make out, after siftin' out Scotty's
cuss-words an' gettin' down to hard-rock, Scotty was shot 'bout eight
or nine o'clock in the evenin'."
"How?"
"Says he heard a racket in the stallion corral. No more'n he slips out
of the office when he's plugged twice--once in the left leg, an' a deep
graze on his head. The head shot is what knocked him out. He said he
didn't come to till after midnight. He drug himself into the office
an' tied himself up the best he could an' lived offen airtights till we
pulled in. He didn't even know any hosses had been run off till after
we got back."
"I s'pose he was shot the evenin' of the dance?"
"Shore. Oh, ain't it lovely? While we're chasin' imaginary
feather-dusters, the Flyin' M hosses are vanishin'. It shore was a
slick trick. The gent that thought up that plan for getting' every
two-legged man in the country out of the way is a wizard. I'd admire
to see him, I would. I'll bet he's all head."
"He ain't exactly a fool," admitted Loudon, thinking of Sam Blakely.
Certainly the manner in which the horse-stealing had been carried out
bore the ear-marks of 88 methods.
"They had two days' start," observed Swing Tunstall. "Time to ride to
Old Mexico almost."
"Telescope's a good tracker," said Loudon, and began to eat his dinner.
"None better. But even Telescope can't do wonders. By the trail the
hoss-band headed east. Them hosses was over a hundred, maybe a hundred
an' fifty, miles away by the time our outfit got started. In a hundred
an' fifty miles o' country yuh'll find lots o' hard ground an' maybe a
rainstorm."
"Rain ain't none likely at this time o' year."
"It ain't likely, but hoss thieves with a two-day start are in luck at
the go-off. An' luck comes in bunches. If they's any rain wanderin'
'round foot-free an' fancy-loose these gents will get it. An' then
where's Telescope an' his trackin'?"
When Tunstall had departed in search of diversion and to buy
cartridges, Loudon locked his hands behind his head and stared at the
ceiling. In his mind he turned over the events of the past few days.
He was sure that Sam Blakely and the 88 outfit were the prime movers in
the shooting of Scotty and the stealing of Scotty's horses.
Yet, save that the exceeding cleverness of procedure smacked of
Blakely, there were no grounds for suspecting the 88 men. Blakely and
his gang were not the only cunning horse thieves in the territory.
There were dozens of others free and unhung. Nevertheless, Loudon's
instinct fastened the guilt on the 88.
"I'm shore," he muttered, "certain shore. But there ain't nothin' to
go by. Not a thing. An' yuh can't prove nothin' lyin' on yore back
with a bumped ankle."
Half an hour later the entrance of Kate Saltoun interrupted his gloomy
reflections.
"Feeling worse, Tom?" she inquired, her expression anxious.
"Me? Oh, not a little bit. I feel just like a flock o' birds with
yaller wings."
"You needn't be snippy. I know how your ankle must pain you, but----"
"It ain't the ankle, Kate. That feels fine, only I know I can't stand
on it. It's what I'm thinkin' about. I was wonderin' 'bout Scotty an'
all."
"If I sit with you, would--would you like to talk?" said she with a
hesitant smile, the slow red mounting to her cheeks.
"If it wouldn't bother yuh too much."
"I'll be right back."
Kate took away the dishes, and Loudon, who had pulled the blankets up
to his chin at her entry, snuggled deeper into the bed and wished
himself elsewhere.
"What else could I say?" he asked himself, dismally, "Lord A'mighty, I
wish she'd keep away from me."
Kate returned quickly, carried the chair to the foot of the bed, and
sat down. She crossed one leg over the other and clasped her hands in
her lap. Silence ensued for a brief space of time.
"Well," said Kate, leadingly.
"I was just a-wonderin' about this hoss deal," began Loudon. "I
think----"
"I know what you intended saying," Kate observed, calmly. "You see in
it the fine Italian hand of Blakely."
"You always could talk high, wide, and handsome," said Loudon,
admiringly. "How djuh guess it?"
"I know Sam Blakely. That's enough. He'd hesitate at nothing, no
matter how vile or wicked it might be. Oh, don't look so eager. I
can't prove it. It's my instinct, that's all. I hate him--hate
him--hate him!"
Kate covered her face with her hands.
"They'll hear yuh in the kitchen," cautioned Loudon in a whisper.
Kate lowered her hands and looked at him wearily. When she spoke her
voice was perfectly composed.
"No, they won't. Dorothy's over at Lil's. Don't worry, though. I
sha'n't lose control of myself. Something came over me then. I won't
do it again."
"Well, you think like I do, but I can't prove nothin', neither. Never
have been able to prove nothin' against the 88. Say, does yore dad
still believe like he used to about them cows?"
"The Crossed----"
"No, _his_ cows. Them cows that disappeared now an' then."
"I believe he does. He never talks much, you know, and it's sometimes
hard for me to tell what he thinks. But I don't believe he suspects
the 88. He was very angry when I broke the engagement. I wouldn't
give him my reason, and he stormed and stamped around, and quarrelled
with me all the time. That's partly why I came up here to visit Lil
Mace."
"If we could only wake up Fort Creek County--but them fellahs, most of
'em, are for the 88, an' them that ain't have to take it out in
thinkin' a lot. Now if we could cinch this hoss-stealin' on the 88 it
would help a lot down in Fort Creek County. The honest folks down
there would have somethin' to go on, an' they'd paint for war
immediate, an' with the boys from up here it would be a cinch. We'd go
over the 88 outfit like a landslide. An' here I am throwed an'
hog-tied. Say----" Loudon's mouth opened wide. His eyes shone. In
his excitement he raised himself on his elbow--"I got it! I got it!"
"What?" Kate leaned toward him, lips parted.
"It ain't possible that dance was just luck," said Loudon, rapidly.
"It couldn't just 'a' happened all hunky-dory so that fellah from
Hatchet Creek would find all the boys in town. Not by a jugful it
couldn't! It was set for that night a-purpose. Now who started the
ball a-rollin' for that dance?"
He gazed triumphantly at Kate. Her eyes sparkled.
"I'll try and find out for you," she said.
"Howdy, folks?"
It was Pete O'Leary who spoke, and he was standing beside the kitchen
table looking in on them. Loudon's mouth tightened. How much of their
conversation had O'Leary heard?
"Good afternoon, Mr. O'Leary," said Kate, rising and advancing to the
doorway. "Looking for Dorothy, aren't you? Oh, I know you are.
You'll find her down at Mrs. Mace's.... Yes, it's a beautiful day,
beautiful. Good afternoon, Mr. O'Leary, good afternoon."
In the face of this Pete O'Leary departed. Kate went into the kitchen.
In a few minutes she returned, laughing.
"He didn't go into Lil's," she said. "He went on toward Main Street.
I watched him. He's a nervy individual. Dorothy doesn't like him, and
I don't, either."
"I wonder if he did come to see Dorothy, or----"
"He came to see me."
"You!" Loudon's surprise was patent.
"Yes, isn't it charming? Turned him out in quick fashion, didn't I?
The pest! Dorothy said he clung to her like glue till I came. He's
deserted her for me ever since the dance. She baked me a cake. Said
it was a reward. She'd never been able to get rid of him. But I'm
afraid Dorothy's too tender-hearted. I don't mind being rude. Why,
what's the matter?"
"I was just a-wonderin' how much that fellah heard?"
"Oh, nothing," said Kate, carelessly. "We weren't talking loudly, were
we? Does it make any difference?"
"It shore does. O'Leary's in with the 88, or I'm a Dutchman."
"He is!"
"Shore," Loudon nodded. "I got proof o' that, anyhow."
"Heavens! If he heard what we were saying he'll warn Blakely and the
rest. And we can't stop him! We can't stop him!"
"Not yet we can't. I can't, special."
Kate stared steadily at Loudon.
"Tom," said she, after a silence, "if Pete O'Leary is Blakely's friend
then Pete O'Leary got up that dance."
"Oh, I'm bright!" groaned Loudon. "I must be losin' my mind. There it
was, plain as the brand on a hoss, an' I never seen it. O' course it
was him."
"I'll soon find out," Kate exclaimed, briskly. "I'll ask Lil and
Dorothy and Mrs. Ragsdale and Mrs. Dan Smith. They'll know. Do you
mind being left alone for a while?"
"Not a bit--I mean----"
"Now never mind. I know perfectly well what you mean. Here, I'll put
your gun where you can reach it. If you want anything, shoot."
She plumped his pillow, patted and pulled the blankets to smoothness,
and was off.
"Ain't it amazin'?" marvelled Loudon. "Now if anybody had told me that
I could talk friendly again with Kate Saltoun, I'd 'a' called him a
liar. I shore would."
Ten minutes later plump Mrs. Mace entered and interrupted a flow of
very bitter reflections on Pete O'Leary.
"Well, Mister Man, how's the ankle?" inquired Mrs. Mace, brightly.
"Now don't look so glum. Kate'll be back before a great while."
"I wasn't thinkin' o' her," was Loudon's ungallant retort.
"Yuh'd ought to. I guess yuh was, too. Yuh needn't be bashful with
me. I'm Kate's best friend. An' I want to tell you right now I'm
awful glad the pair of yuh got over yore mad. It don't pay to quarrel.
I never do, not even when Jim Mace comes in all mud without wipin' his
feet. Lord, what trials you men are! I don't really know how we poor
women get along sometimes, I don't indeed. Want a drink o' water? Yuh
can't have nothin' else. Mis' Burr said yuh couldn't."
"Then I guess that goes as it lays. But I ain't thirsty, an' I don't
need nothin'. Honest."
"Yes, yuh do," contradicted Mrs. Mace, gazing critically at him. "Yuh
need yore hair brushed. It's all mussed, an' invalids should look
neat. Don't start in to sputter. I sha'n't brush yore hair, but I'll
tell Kate she's no great shakes for a nurse. Now I think of it, Kate's
hair was mussed up some, too. H'm-m-m. What yuh gettin' red about?
No call to blush that I can see. Oh, you men!"
With a significant wink Mrs. Mace whisked kittenishly into the kitchen.
Loudon could hear her lifting stove-lids. He perspired freely. The
lady's weighty bantering had raised his temperature.
What a world! Scotty urged him to make love to Dorothy. Mrs. Burr
advised him to set matters right with Kate. While Mrs. Mace had
everything settled. Between the three of them and his other troubles
he believed he would go mad.