WANTED BY THE SHERIFF
“Watch the prisoners, Hippy! Anybody hurt?” called Grace as she came
running to the scene of the disaster.
“No, but Mr. Fairweather’s feelings are considerably ruffled,” replied
Miss Briggs.
Ike, after having been dragged to the very edge of the trail by the
coach, had picked himself up and was brushing the dirt from his
clothes, for he had been dragged right across the trail, but let go
just in time to save himself.
“Why, Mr. Fairweather, what in the world has happened?” begged Grace
solicitously.
“Don’t ask me, woman, or I’ll say somethin’. I’m mad clean through.”
“I do not blame you,” answered Grace sympathetically. “How did it
occur?”
“The blamed thing got away from me while I was backin’ it around by
hand, thet’s all. Ought to have known better’n to tackle it alone.”
“How long will it take to get the coach back on the trail so that we
may go on?” questioned Emma Dean innocently.
“Get it on the trail?” Ike Fairweather groaned hopelessly. “We’ll never
get it up, Miss. She shore is a basket of kindlin’ wood now, an’ I
don’t know what we’re goin’ to do.”
“We can walk,” answered Grace confidently. “How far are we from Globe?”
“Nigh onto thirty mile, I reckon.”
“Walk thirty miles?” cried Emma. “I should simply expire.”
“I reckon you’ll have to walk if you want to get back,” grumbled Ike.
“Walking is most excellent exercise, and I am certain that it will do
all of us good. I have a plan, Mr. Fairweather,” spoke up Grace.
“Thought you would have.”
At this juncture, Lieutenant Wingate came up leading the two wounded
men who had been left down the trail. He too wished to know what the
plan was for getting back to town.
“I was about to suggest something to Mr. Fairweather,” replied Grace.
“We shall have to use the coach horses to help carry us.”
“Do not forget our prisoners in your calculations,” reminded Hippy
Wingate. “Surely, you do not propose to let them go?”
“I have not forgotten. No, sir, we are not going to release them
after all the bother they have put us to. Let me see, there are four
prisoners and five girls.”
“And two men,” interjected Hippy.
“By placing two bandits on a horse, that will leave two horses to carry
the rest of us. The girls can ride two on a horse, which will take care
of Nora, Anne, Elfreda and Emma. You two men and myself will walk.
Should we walkers get foot weary, we can change places with the girls
who are riding. Does that meet with your approval, Mr. Fairweather?”
“It shore does.”
Hippy suggested, instead, that he be permitted to ride back to town for
assistance, but Grace objected to this.
“The prisoners need medical attention, and we shall have to go on short
rations as it is, so we have no time to lose. We will tie the four men
on two horses and tie the pair of horses together; Mr. Fairweather can
lead the animals; you, Hippy, will walk alongside of them and I will
bring up the rear.”
“What if one of the bandits drops off and gives us the slip?”
questioned Hippy.
“I shall see to it that he doesn’t get far,” answered Grace
significantly.
“Huh!” grunted Ike. “I thought the lieutenant was givin’ me a fairy
story ’bout your doin’s in the war. Jedgin’ from what I’ve seen
to-night I reckon he hasn’t told the half of what there is to tell.
Why, lady, if you was to live out here you’d be sheriff of the county
at the next election. I reckon I know of one vote you’d get.”
“Thank you. Then you approve of my plan?” asked Grace.
“From the ground up.”
“And you folks?” she questioned, turning to her companions.
All nodded their heads in approval.
“I wish I had an airplane,” grumbled Hippy Wingate. “I never did like
to walk when I had to.”
“We will take the rifles and revolvers of the highwaymen with us. I
do not believe they will have use for their weapons. We may need them
ourselves. Mr. Fairweather, if you will get the horses ready we will
load up and start.”
Ike removed his sombrero and wiped his forehead on his sleeve.
“Yes, I’ll get ’em ready, but what Ike Fairweather wants to say,
he can’t, ’cause somehow it sticks in his crop an’ won’t come out.
You’re the real thing, all of you is, an’ any galoot that says you
ain’t--well, Ike Fairweather will take care of thet critter.”
“You fellows, I have a word for you,” announced Grace, turning to the
prisoners. “I warn you that if you try to get away I shall shoot.”
“Which, altogether an’ in partic’lar means thet the everlastin’
daylights will be blown out of the critter thet tries to get away,”
reminded Ike. “Fair warnin’s fair warnin’.”
“But not Fairweather,” chuckled Hippy Wingate, which brought a groan of
disapproval from the Overton girls.
Placing the prisoners on the horses and tying them securely was a
proceeding that took some little time, so that it was fully an hour
later before the procession started out, Elfreda, Anne, Emma and Nora
riding on the two leading horses, Ike leading the prisoners’ mounts,
Hippy in the middle of the procession, and Grace Harlowe, with a
bandit’s rifle slung in the crook of her right arm, bringing up the
rear.
The highwaymen were sullen, not uttering a word, so far as Grace
had heard, though she had no doubt that they had quietly exchanged
confidences. The one who was most severely wounded was the man whose
scalp a bullet had raked, but he apparently was in no danger, though
still weak from loss of blood.
“Is there a place where we can get breakfast, if still on the trail in
the morning?” called Anne.
“Narry a place,” answered Ike Fairweather.
They plodded on, Grace, if anything, being the most cheerful and
contented member of the party. At break of day they halted, having
made about ten miles of the thirty. From the little kit pack in which
each one carried emergency rations, they eked out a slender breakfast,
though they had neither coffee nor tea, that part of the food supply
being at the bottom of the canyon in the wreckage of the old Deadwood
coach. The prisoners, however, refused to eat, maintaining a sullen
silence as they watched their captors partaking of breakfast.
At the noon halt, Grace and Elfreda dressed the prisoners’ wounds,
binding them up with skillful hands with pieces of cloth torn from
skirts. It was not the first time that either Grace Harlowe or Elfreda
Briggs had dressed bullet wounds, both having been called upon to do
so in numerous instances on the western front in France. The prisoners
watched the dressing operations without uttering a word of comment, but
the expressions on their faces were not pleasant to look upon.
Ike, who had been regarding the wound-dressing with interest, turned,
as the girls finished their work, and walked away running his fingers
through his whiskers.
The prisoners were placed on the horses and secured, after which the
party started on again.
“Horses comin’ up the trail,” announced Ike, a few moments later,
holding up a hand for the party to stop.
Grace ran forward to halt the two horses carrying the four girls.
“Some one is coming, girls. Go back and get out of the way in case
there should be trouble,” she directed.
Grace joined Ike after the girls had taken up a safe position, Hippy
standing expectantly by the prisoners, the outfit, with rifles in hand,
ready to meet whatever trouble might be in store for them.
Three horsemen swept around a bend in the trail, and the instant they
hove in sight, Ike Fairweather uttered a shout.
“It’s Deputy Sheriff Wheelock,” he cried. “Now we’re all right. Howdy,
Wheelock!”
The deputy, upon recognizing Ike, swung down from his horse, doffed his
hat to Grace, and turned to Mr. Fairweather.
“What do you reckon you’ve got here!” demanded the deputy.
Ike explained who and what his outfit was, relating briefly the story
of the loss of the stagecoach and the capture of the bandits.
“This little woman did the business. Deputy Sheriff Wheelock, Mrs.
Gray,” introduced Ike.
“Do you know the prisoners, sir?” she asked.
After looking the bandits over closely, the deputy shook his head. He
asked Ike if he needed any assistance to get the prisoners in. Grace
answered the question by saying that they did not.
“We’re going out after a fellow who lives in the mountains and who
has been shooting game out of season, but I’ll tell you what I’ll do,
I’ll send one of my men to Globe in a hurry and have him ride out to
the sheriff’s ranch and get him,” offered the deputy. “That will save
you waiting for the sheriff when you get in. I reckon maybe these are
fellows that Sheriff Collins has been looking for. Take your men right
to the jail, Ike, and Collins will do the rest.”
After starting one of his men back toward Globe, Mr. Wheelock, mounted,
waved a hand, and, with his assistant, galloped on. The Overton party
assumed its former formation and plodded on, weary, but encouraged by
the realization that only a few hours now separated them from their
goal.
It was half past three o’clock in the afternoon when the weary,
dust-covered Overton party reached the Arizona town from which it had
made its start the day before. The four girls, on two horses, decided
that they would dismount before entering the town, even Emma Dean
declaring that this was one time when she was not seeking publicity.
The news of the plucky fight that Grace and Hippy had made, and their
capture of four highwaymen, had been carried to town by the deputy’s
assistant, and throngs stood on the main street awaiting the arrival of
the party. Occasionally there was a cheer from a group of enthusiasts,
but generally the townspeople were silent, curiosity being their
leading emotion.
“Girls, I think it might be advisable for you to go on to the hotel!
You look all fagged out,” suggested Grace. “Run along, and I will be
over there as soon as we have disposed of our prisoners.”
Elfreda, Nora, Anne and Emma quickly separated themselves from the
outfit, Ike Fairweather, accompanied by Grace and Hippy, heading for
the jail. The sheriff came out to meet them as they rounded up their
horses before the jail entrance. He strode straight to the bandit that
Grace, while crouching under the stagecoach, had shot in the leg.
“Hulloa, Con,” greeted the officer. “I can’t tell you how glad I am to
see you. I’ve got a nice little room ready for you. You may find it a
bit cramped, but it is the best we have in the house to-day.
“Ah! I see you have some familiar faces with you,” added the sheriff,
directing a swift, appraising glance at the other prisoners. “A fine
bunch of brave men you are to let yourselves get caught by a party of
women. Who are _you_?” he demanded, wheeling on Hippy.
“I am Lieutenant Wingate, Sheriff. This is Mrs. Grace Harlowe Gray who
got the drop on these fellows when all the rest of us were helpless.”
“Glad to meet you, Mrs. Gray,” greeted the sheriff, removing his hat
and stepping forward to shake hands with the Overton girl. “I’m Jim
Collins, sheriff of this county. So you did this little job, eh? You
don’t look it for a little bit, but you’ve delivered the goods, and
that’s the answer. My hat is off to you. Do you know who you have
here?” he questioned, pointing to the bandit with the wounded leg.
“No, sir, I do not.”
“He is Con Bates, one of the few real bandit leaders left in this part
of the west. He’s a bad man, Miss, and I couldn’t begin to express to
you how pleased I am to get my paws on him.”
“Who are the others?” asked Grace.
The sheriff named them and Grace fixed the names in her mind.
“Con is the most dangerous of the lot,” Sheriff Collins informed her.
“This isn’t all of the outfit by any means. The rest are in the hills
somewhere. What do you reckon on doing now?”
“I hope that we may be able to get out on the trail with our ponies
some time to-morrow.”
“Don’t plan to leave until the late afternoon. I shall need you to
appear against these men to-morrow. Going over the trail, eh? You’ll
need to keep your eyes peeled when you get up in the mountains again.
Some of the critters still at large may take it into their heads to
even up with you for this job you’ve done. Then, too, there’s some
roving bands of trouble-hunting Apaches up there who are out with the
excuse that they’re waiting for the hunting season to open. I’ll talk
with you about that later.”
“Thank you, Sheriff. I leave the prisoners in your hands, but I should
like to have their rifles, if you do not object.”
“Sure thing. You may need them, too. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Grace shook hands with Ike Fairweather and whispered to him that
she would give him a check for whatever he considered the Deadwood
stagecoach worth.
“Nothin’ doin’,” growled Ike. “Thet old coach wa’n’t worth ten dollars,
an’ I’ve had about a million dollars’ worth of excitement out of this
here trip. Wish I was goin’ to be with you on your pony journey, for I
know you folks now. You’ll be stirrin’ up things the whole length of
the Old Apache Trail, or my name ain’t Ike Fairweather.”
Promising to see Ike later on, Grace and Hippy hurried to the Dominion
Hotel where Hippy’s wife and the other girls were anxiously awaiting
them.
All hands then went to their rooms, bathed, and went to bed for a few
hours’ sleep.