THE RAILROAD CORRAL
Loudon stepped out into the street. Laguerre stationed himself on the
sidewalk twenty yards in Loudon's rear. Every window and doorway
giving a view of the scene of hostilities was crowded with spectators.
On the sidewalk, fifty yards from the hotel, stood Judge Allison, watch
in hand.
Loudon stood, one leg thrust slightly forward, his eyes on the
dance-hall door, and his cocked rifle in the hollow of his left arm.
Not for an instant did he fear the outcome. His self-confidence was
supreme. Oddly enough, his mind refused to dwell on the impending
duel. He could think of nothing save the most trivial subjects till
Luke Maxson stepped out of the dance-hall doorway.
Then a prickling twitched the skin between Loudon's shoulders, and he
experienced a curious species of exhilaration. It reminded him of a
long-ago evening in Fort Worth when he had drunk a bottle of champagne.
The exhilaration vanished in a breath. Remained a calculating coldness
and the pleasing knowledge that Luke Maxson was still excited.
_Bang_! The Judge's six-shooter spoke. Instantly the upper half of
Maxson's figure was hidden by a cloud of smoke.
Loudon worked his Winchester so rapidly that the reports sounded like
the roll of an alarm-clock. At his sixth shot, simultaneously with a
blow on his left foot that jarred his leg to the knee, he saw Luke
Maxson drop his rifle and fall forward on his hands and knees.
Then Maxson jerked his body sidewise and sat up, his back toward
Loudon, his hands clutching his legs.
Loudon lowered the hammer of his Winchester and gazed down at his
numbed foot. Most of the high heel of his boot had been torn away.
Which was the sole result of his opponent's marksmanship. Walking with
a decided list to port he unhurriedly crossed to the hotel.
"Gimme a drink!" he called to the bartender. "An' have one yoreself."
"Forgeet me, huh?" chuckled Laguerre, hard on his friend's heels.
"Mak' eet t'ree, meestair."
"Say, Tom," Laguerre said, when they were alone. "W'y deed you tell me
to shut up, huh?"
"Don't yuh see, Telescope?" replied Loudon. "Here's Bill Archer a heap
suspicious of us already. He's guessed we're from the Bend, but if we
don't recognize Luke Maxson he won't know what to think. Anyway, I'm
gamblin' he won't canter right off an' blat out to the 88 that two
fellahs are on their trail. Instead o' doin' that it's likely he'll
trail us when we pull our freight, an' try to make shore just what our
game is. It's our job to keep him puzzled till everythin's cinched.
Then he can do what he likes. It won't make a bit of difference."
"You are right," nodded Laguerre. "You t'ink sleecker dan me dees tam.
But w'y you not keel de man, huh?"
"'Cause, dead an' buried, he can't be identified. Gripped up in bed
he'll make a fine Exhibit A for our outfit."
"You was tak' a beeg chance."
"Oh, not so big. He was mad when he came into the saloon, an' I made
him a heap madder before I got through talkin' to him. Yuh can't shoot
good when yo're mad."
And Loudon grinned at Laguerre.
"You old sun-of-a-gun!" said his friend, admiringly.
That hearty soul, Judge Allison, brought the news half an hour after
the shooting that Luke Maxson was far from being badly wounded. There
were, it seemed, three bullets in Luke's right leg and two in his left.
And the left leg was broken.
At this last Loudon brightened visibly. He had feared that his
adversary had merely sustained flesh wounds. A broken leg, however,
would confine the amiable Luke to his bed for a period of weeks, which,
for the proper furtherance of Loudon's plans, was greatly to be desired.
Loudon began to fear for the safety of Judge Allison. Marysville was
not apt to take kindly the Judge's rather open espousal of the
stranger's cause. And Loudon liked Judge Allison. He felt that the
Judge was honest; that he had been duped by Block and Archer and the
others of their stripe; that, his eyes once opened to the true state of
affairs, the Judge would not hesitate to show the malefactors the error
of their ways.
In time Loudon intended to take the Judge into his confidence, but that
time was not yet. In the meantime, no evil must come to Judge Allison.
Loudon took the Judge aside.
"Yore Honour," said he, "ain't yuh just a little too friendly to me an'
my friend? We don't have to live here, but you do."
The Judge did not immediately make reply. He put his head on one side
and looked at Loudon under his eyebrows.
"In so far as I may," said the Judge at last, "I do what pleases me.
Even so, no man in the possession of his senses performs any act
without good reason. Regarding my reason for what little I did, I can
at present say, 'Cherchez la femme.' Ah, here comes the stage! I must
go to the postoffice. Come to my office in about fifteen minutes, Mr.
Franklin, and remember, '_Cherchez la femme_.'"
Loudon stared in perplexity after the retreating figure.
"'_Shershay la fam_,'" he repeated. "Now I'd like to know what that
means. _Shershay la fam_. Don't sound like Injun talk. An' he wants
to see me in fifteen minutes, does he? Maybe, now, he'll bear watchin'
after all."
At the time appointed Loudon entered the Judge's office. The Judge,
smoking a long cigar, his feet on the table, waved Loudon to a chair.
Loudon unobtrusively hitched his six-shooter into easy drawing position
as he sat down. He watched the Judge like a cat. The Judge smiled.
"Friend," he said, "you may relax. It's quite too hot to look for
trouble where none is. My intentions are of the friendliest. Quite
recently there have come to my ears several important bits of
information. Among other interesting facts, I am told that Sheriff
Block has sworn in twelve deputies for the purpose of arresting one
Thomas Loudon, lately employed by the Bar S ranch, but working at
present for the Flying M in Sunset County.
"The man Loudon is alleged to have committed divers crimes, ranging in
their heinousness from rustling and assault with murderous intent, to
simple assault and battery. Thomas Loudon is supposed to have returned
to the Flying M, but the worthy sheriff has in some manner gained the
impression that the fugitive is still within the confines of Fort Creek
County. Hence the dozen deputies."
The Judge paused. Loudon leaned back in his chair, crossed one leg
over the other, and rolled a cigarette. He realized now that Judge
Allison was unreservedly his friend.
"It is only a question of time," continued the Judge, "when a batch of
these deputies will ride into Marysville. If Thomas Loudon were in
Marysville at present, and if I were in his boots, I should saddle my
horse and seek refuge in parts unknown--for a time at least. I
understand that Thomas Loudon is taking steps in a certain matter that
will, if he is successful, criminally involve large and powerful
interests. If Thomas Loudon is a man of parts and wisdom he will take
his steps with all speed.
"Evidence is evidence, and the more there is of it, and the stronger it
is, and the sooner it is brought forward, the better. For the better
information of Thomas Loudon, I will say that, under the laws of this
territory, a warrant issued by any judge may be withdrawn by that judge
at his discretion. For instance, should Thomas Loudon present evidence
tending to discredit the individuals swearing out the warrant against
him, said warrant would stand an excellent chance of being immediately
annulled. Do I make myself clear?"
"Couldn't be clearer," Loudon said, staring up at the ceiling. "I'll
bet Tom Loudon would be a heap grateful to yuh if he could 'a' heard
what yuh had to say."
"Doubtless--doubtless. I trust some day to make the gentleman's
acquaintance. As I was saying, these deputies may arrive at any time.
I do not believe they will come before to-morrow at the earliest. Yet
one can never tell. Parts unknown are the best health resorts on earth
at times like these."
"Yo're shore whistlin', Judge. I guess we'll pull our freight this
afternoon or to-night."
When Loudon informed Laguerre in the privacy of their room of what the
Judge had said, the swarthy man slapped his leg and laughed aloud.
"By Gar!" he exclaimed. "By Gar! Dat ees damn fonny!" Then, in a
lower tone, he added, "She shore one good feller. Wat was dose word
she say--dose fonny word you not know w'at dey mean?"
"_Shershay la fam_."
"_Cherchez la femme_, huh? Dat ees _Francais_. Un it mean, 'Fin' de
woman.'"
"'Find the woman'! I'd like to know what findin' the woman's got to do
with it."
"I dunno. But dat's w'at de word mean, all right. W'at I wan' for
know ees how de Judge she know so much 'bout you. She issue de
warran', un now she not follow eet up. I do not understan', me."
"Me neither. Lend me yore knife, Telescope, will yuh? Yores is
sharper'n mine, an' I got to cut some leather offen my chaps an' make
me a new heel. I'll prob'ly have time to make me a whole new pair o'
boots an' a saddle before Johnny an' Chuck drift in. Which they're the
slowest pair of bandits livin'. We'll give 'em till daylight
to-morrow."
Marysville, whatever opinions it may have held concerning the shooting
affray, did not openly disapprove. No one came forward to take up the
quarrel of the Maxson brothers.
As to Archer, he sat alone in front of his dance hall. Loudon
perceived, in the course of a casual stroll, that the man wore his
spurs, and that two of the horses in the corral were saddled and
bridled. He also noted that the five Barred Twin Diamond horses were
still in the corral. He dropped in at the Judge's office.
"Judge," said Loudon, "it just struck me that somebody might want to
buy that sorrel hoss o' yores. Yuh see, I've taken quite a fancy to
that hoss. I might want to buy him myself some day. Would yuh mind
hangin' on to him till I come back from where I'm goin'?"
"So that's how the wind blows?" the Judge said, disgustedly. "I might
have known it, too. He was so cheap. Well, Mr. Franklin, you may rest
assured that the sorrel horse remains in my possession until your
return. Confound it all, I hate to part with him! He's a good horse."
"He's all that. But maybe, now, yore keepin' him could be arranged if
you like him so much. I might not want him so bad after all."
"Corruption, corruption!" exclaimed Judge Allison, violently winking
his right eye. "Would you bribe the bench, Mr. Franklin? No, not
another word, sir. We are drawing a trifle ahead of our subject. Let
me impress upon you the necessity for prompt action. I should make my
departure before sunset, if I were you."
"Deputies?"
"As to them, I cannot say," said the Judge, shaking his head, "but I am
of the opinion that Marysville will not be a health resort to-night.
The wicked walk in the darkness, you know, and not half-an-hour ago I
heard something that makes me quite positive that the said evildoers
will endeavour to walk to some purpose this evening. I was on the
point of sending you warning when you came in."
"Now that's right friendly of yuh, Judge. Me an' my friend won't
forget it. But ain't there just some chance o' these here evildoers
a-comin' to see you?"
"I have a friend or two here myself. I told you this morning that I
stand in no danger. I have had no reason to change my opinion."
"All right, you know best. I guess Telescope an' me'll pull our
freight instanter. We won't wait for my friends. When they come would
yuh mind tellin' 'em we've gone to Damson?"
"I shall be delighted. Who are your friends?"
"Johnny Ramsay o' the Cross-in-a-box an' Chuck Morgan o' the Bar S."
"'Chuck Morgan.' Well do I know the gentleman. I fined him
twenty-five dollars last fall for riding his horse into Billy West's
saloon, roping the stove, and trying to drag it through the doorway."
"That's Chuck all over! But he didn't tell the Bar S nothin' about a
fine."
"The Bar S! What are you talking about? You're from the southern
ranges, and I'd advise you not to forget it."
"I won't again," Loudon grinned. "So long, Judge, an' we're obliged to
yuh for----"
"For nothing! For nothing! And don't forget that either. Now
good-bye and good luck."
Loudon and Laguerre, having paid their bill, left the hotel by the back
way. A pale little man, one of the dance-hall fiddlers, was flirting
with the cook at the kitchen doorway. When the two men appeared,
carrying their saddles and rifles, the pale one glided swiftly around
the corner of the house.
"See that?" muttered Loudon, cinching up rapidly.
Laguerre nodded.
"---- 'em!" he whispered. "Hope dey follow! By Gar! I do, me!"
"No use tryin' to slide out past the corral now," said Loudon. "We
might as well use Main Street."
They were glad of their decision. They rode into Main Street just in
time to see Archer and a companion turning the corner of the dance
hall. The Flying M men headed northward. The other two turned their
horses' heads to the south.
Where Main Street became the trail, Loudon and Laguerre swung eastward
and loped steadily for several miles. When their shadows were long in
front of them they climbed the reverse slope of a little hill.
Picketing their horses below the crest they lay down behind an outcrop
and watched the back trail. Within thirty minutes appeared two dots on
a ridge three miles distant.
"Just like wolves, ain't they?" chuckled Loudon, and wriggled backward.
"We weel bushwhack dem here, huh?" growled Laguerre. "Eet ees de good
plass. Dey weel pass on our trail not two hundred yard away. We geet
dem easy."
"No, not yet, Telescope," said Loudon. "It ain't necessary, anyhow.
We'll ride on till it gets dark. Then we'll light a fire an' vamose,
an' leave them holdin' the bag."
"Dat ees all right," Laguerre said, "but keelin' ees better. W'y not?
No one weel know. Un eef dey do, w'at mattair? Dey are de teenhorn.
We weel have dat all prove'. I say, keel dem, me."
Unconsciously Laguerre fingered the handle of his skinning-knife.
Loudon laughed.
"C'mon," he said. "There'll be enough o' killin' before this job's
over."
Grumbling, for to him an ambush was such a ridiculously simple method
of disposing of two enemies, Laguerre followed his comrade. They rode
till night came on. Then, in the middle of a mile-wide flat, where
cottonwoods grew beside a tiny creek, they dismounted and loosened
cinches.
Hobbled, their bridles off, the horses grazed. Laguerre, still
protesting, made the fire. He built it cunningly, after the Indian
manner, with an arrangement of sticks to leeward, so that it would burn
slowly and for a long time.
"Dere," said Laguerre, as the flames bit and took hold, "dat weel fool
dem. But I t'ink de Winchestair be de bes' t'ing, me."
Loudon laughed as he swung into the saddle. Inwardly he quite agreed
with Laguerre in the matter of an ambush. Enemies should be crushed as
expeditiously and with as little danger to one's self as possible. Yet
Loudon was too humanly normal to practise the doctrine in all its
ruthlessness. To do that one must be either a great general or a
savage. Laguerre was not abnormal, but he was half Indian, and at
times he became wholly one. This was one of the times.
For three miles the two men rode in the creek water, then, guided by
the stars, they headed southwest. Toward midnight they came upon a
well-marked trail. They knew it could be none other than the trail to
Blossom, and they turned into it. Under the spell of the horses'
steady walk-along Laguerre became reminiscent.
"De ole tam, dey are wit' me now, my frien'," he observed, "but I do
not feel varree bad, me. I am on de move. Un soon dere weel be beeg
fight. I have been de scout, I have leeve wit' Enjun, I have hunt all
t'ing', un I tell you, Tom, dere ees nothin' like huntin' de man. Dat
mak' me feel fine.
"By Gar! w'en I was young man een Blackfoot camp, I was go ovair to de
Assiniboine, un I run off seex pony un geet two scalp. Dat mak' me
beeg man wit' de Blackfoot. Dey say my medicine was good, un eet was
good, by Gar! Eet was de Winchestair. De Assiniboine w'at chase me
was surprise'. Dey not know de Winchestair den. Deir gun all
single-shot."
And Laguerre laughed at this recollection of aboriginal amazement.
Loudon made no comment. The laughter died in a grunt. The harsh voice
resumed:
"By Gar! I bless de luck dat Scotty sen' me wit' you. I mean for
queet un go 'way wit' you like I tol' you, un w'en dem horse t'ief run
off de pony, I know I can not queet. I can not leave Scotty like dat.
She ees good frien' to me. But now I go 'way like I wan', un I work
for Scotty, too. I am almost satisfy. But at de las' I weel go 'way.
De ole tam, dey weel mak' me. I mus' fin' Pony George before de en'."
"Maybe he's dead," suggested Loudon, moved to cheer up his friend.
"No, she ees not dead. She 'live yet. I can not tell you how I know.
I not know how myself, me. But I know. Somew'ere she wait teel I
come. Un I weel come. I weel come. Den, w'en hees hair ees on my
bridle, I weel be complete satisfy, un I weel work on de ranch steady.
I not care w'at happen den."
Laguerre fell silent. His reminiscent mood passed on to his comrade.
Since leaving the Bend the days had been so crowded that Loudon had had
no time to think of anything save the work in hand. But now the
tension had slackened, the old days came back to Loudon, and he thought
of the girl he had once loved.
He saw her as he used to see her on their rides together along the Lazy
River; he saw her swinging in the hammock on the porch of the Bar S
ranch house; he saw her smiling at him from the doorway of the room in
the Burr house; and he saw her dark eyes with the hurt look in them,
her shaking shoulders when she turned sidewise in the chair and wept,
her blindly swaying figure when she stumbled from the room. All these
things he saw on the screen of his mind.
Apparently she loved him. But was the semblance the reality? It was
all very well for Mrs. Burr to talk about coquettes. Kate Saltoun had
played with him, had led him on to propose, and then at the end had
with contumely and scorn refused him. His sense of injury had so
developed that his brain had come to dwell more on the contumely and
the scorn than it did on the refusal. Mankind is apt to lose sight of
the main issue and to magnify minor events till at last the latter
completely overshadow the former.
"It ain't possible," reasoned Loudon, "to care for a girl that called
yuh a ignorant puncher. Some day she might get mad an' call yuh that
again, an' then where'd yuh be? Wouldn't yuh look nice with a wife
that knowed she was better'n you an' told yuh so whenever she felt like
it?"
"Well, ain't she better'n you?" queried the honest voice of Inner
Consciousness.
"She's lots better," admitted Innate Stubbornness. "But she wants to
keep still about it."
"An' she's shore a razzle-dazzler in looks, ain't she?" persisted Inner
Consciousness. "An' her ways have changed a lot. An' she acts like
she likes yuh. Lately yuh been kind o' missin' her some yoreself,
ain't yuh? Ain't yuh, huh? Be kind o' nice to have her round right
along, wouldn't it? Shore it would. Which bein' so, don't yuh guess
Mis' Burr knows what she's talkin' about? Why can't yuh have sense an'
take the lady's advice?"
"I won't be drove," insisted Innate Stubbornness. "I won't be drove,
an' that's whatever."
Inner Consciousness immediately curled up and went to sleep. It had
recognized the futility of arguing with Innate Stubbornness. Loudon
wondered why he could no longer think connectedly. He gave up trying.
When day broke, the two men left the trail and rode southward. They
were tired, but they did not dare halt. In the middle of the
afternoon, emerging from a draw, they saw the rails of the Great
Western Railroad a hundred yards ahead. They rode westward along the
line and reached Damson an hour later.
Two saloons, a blacksmith shop, three houses, the station, and a
water-tank, all huddling on the flanks of a railroad corral, made up
the town of Damson. It was an unlovely place, and, to complete the
effect, a dust-devil received them with open arms.
"Looks like that corral had been used lately," observed Loudon between
coughs.
"Bunch o' pony stay dere tree-four day, two week ago, mabbeso,"
qualified Laguerre.
They dismounted and entered the cracked and peeling station. The
agent, a pale, flat-chested young man, responded readily to Loudon's
inquiries.
"Surely," he said, "about two weeks ago"--riffling duplicate
way-bills--"yep, on the seventeenth, Bill Archer shipped ninety-five
head Barred Twin Diamond hosses to Cram an' Docket in Piegan City. The
two Maxson boys an' a feller they called Rudd was with Archer. Nope,
no trouble at all. Eastbound? She's five hours late. Due maybe in an
hour an' a half if she don't lose some more. Yep, I'll set the board
against her."
When Mr. Cram, senior member of the great horse-dealing firm of Cram &
Docket, came down to his office in the morning, Tom Loudon was sitting
on the office-steps, an expression of keenest satisfaction on his
sunburnt, cinder-grimed face. He had spent the greater part of the
preceding two hours strolling among the corrals of Cram & Docket. Mr.
Cram acknowledged by a curt nod the greeting of Loudon.
"I have all the men I can use," began Mr. Cram, gruffly, "and----"
"T'sall right," interrupted Loudon. "I ain't needin' a job this
mornin'. I just thought I'd tell yuh that there's ninety-five head o'
stolen hosses in number eight corral."
"Wha-what?" gasped Mr. Cram.
"Hurts, don't it? Shouldn't wonder. Yes, sir, them ninety-five Barred
Twin Diamonds yuh bought offen Bill Archer o' Marysville an' shipped
from Damson was all stole from Scotty Mackenzie's Flying M ranch up
north near Paradise Bend, in the Dogsoldier valley."
"Why--why--I don't understand," stuttered Mr. Cram. "I don't believe a
word of it."
Mr. Cram became suddenly aware of the exceeding chilliness in a pair of
gray eyes.
"Meanin' how?" queried Loudon, softly.
"Well, of course, I believe you're acting in good faith, but---- Oh,
come inside."
"No need. My train's due in thirty minutes. Scotty Mackenzie an' his
foreman Doubleday will come down here an' prove ownership in about a
week or so."
"But I've just sold that bunch to a firm in Omaha!"
"Yuh won't ship 'em. Yuh see, I thought o' yore sellin' 'em, an' I
woke up Judge Curran at six o'clock an' got him to issue a injunction
against yore shippin' 'em. So I guess yuh'll keep 'em till Scotty
comes. Yep, I guess yuh will, Mr. Cram. See, here comes the marshal
now. Looks like that white paper he's got might be the injunction,
don't it?"