DOLLY TELLS THE TRUTH.
Judge Tarleton lay on his bed. Cliff sat beside him, facing the door,
as Dolly entered. Lav, his dark brows drawn in a scowl, stood just back
of Cliff's chair. This man was a Railroad rider. Old Railroad Ross had
admitted some man of his outfit had killed Ben. It was well known that
the men of the Railroad outfit stuck together as one man. This little
red-haired, blue-eyed manikin was one of them, for all his boyish looks.
He might be the very man who had fired the fatal shot.
Zella started to introduce him, realized that she didn't know his name,
and halted.
"Never mind the introduction," said the judge. "We know he belongs to
the Railroad outfit, and that's enough. What have you got to say for
yourself, young man?"
Dolly saw that he was starting into this interview with a handicap.
It was the handicap of being a Railroad puncher, but he kept his wits
about him.
"You fellows think Randy shot the judge. I'm here to tell you that he
didn't. The man who shot you, judge, was an H Bar man called Red. He's
dead."
"How do you know he's dead?"
"I killed him about five minutes after he shot you."
"You killed him? You talk mighty cool about killing men."
"I am right cool about killing a man that lays in the brush and shoots
innocent men like they were sheep-killing dogs."
"Huh! Well, I'm not hurt very bad. What my boys and me have against the
Railroad outfit is the killing of my son Ben at the round-up."
"They didn't kill him."
"Didn't kill him! Why, Railroad Ross himself told me they did, and
whatever else he is, Railroad is not a liar. We don't know a great deal
about that fight that day, but we've got some friends, and they told us
part of it. Enough to satisfy us that--"
"Beg pardon, sir, but did they tell you who killed Asa Ross, and what
for?"
There was that question again.
"No!" thundered the judge. "We are not interested in that. If you came
here to insinuate that Ben killed--"
"I didn't. I came here to get word to you that the Railroad outfit
didn't kill Ben, and that Randy didn't shoot you. Instead of hunting
Randy to kill him, you ought to be helping him against his enemies."
"Oh, Randy's begging for help, is he?" put in Lav.
Dolly turned his blue eyes on Lav, and for once the stalwart Tarleton,
patrician though he was, quailed before a glance from a pair of
baby-blue eyes.
Dolly was dangerously near an explosion, but he checked himself.
"No. Randy isn't asking for any more help than he's got. He don't need
any more. He don't know I came here. I took a chance on getting killed
to help you."
"Keep quiet, Lav," said the judge, as Lav opened his mouth to speak.
"Now, young man, this farce has gone far enough. I gave my word to my
daughter that you wouldn't be harmed if you came here. There is just
one question that we want answered. Who killed Ben?"
The crisis had come. Dolly pulled himself together. He was pitted
against the champion liar and coldest schemer in the world, but he came
up to the scratch.
"Bell Holderness."
* * * * *
"No!" cried the three men together, while Zella, standing in the door,
clenched her hands until the nails cut the flesh.
"You can't get away with that!" cried Lav. "Bell has been our friend
all through this trouble, and still is. You can't stand here in this
house and try to blacken the name of our friend."
White-faced, Lav took a step forward, with fists clenched. Dolly stood
his ground, a narrow white line showing along the edge of his lips.
"Lav!" called the old judge. "My word is out that this boy won't be
mistreated in my house. And after all, he's just a hired man, doing
what he is told to do."
"A minute, judge," and Dolly's voice hummed with the tenseness of it.
"I told you that nobody sent me here. I am just a hired man, but my
word is as good as yours. Friend or no friend, Bell Holderness killed
your son."
"Would you like to face Bell Holderness with that statement?" snapped
Lav.
"Yes! I'd like to face him, but not alone, when he's got a gang of
killers with him, like he had when he murdered Keech and Brazos."
The shot went home. To be classed as one of the H Bar gang was too much
for Lav. He went white to his lips and recoiled a step. Dolly saw what
was in his eyes. Lav was insulted, and to insult a Tarleton was to seek
deadly danger. Dolly knew some sort of showdown was imminent.
He had taken a positive stand. He might not get shot there in the
house, but Lav would meet him as soon as he got away from the premises.
A tense moment followed Dolly's statement. A Tarleton had been charged
by innuendo of being a member of a gang of cold killers.
Finally Lav spoke. "I guess you know what you've done, and there is
only one way out of it. I'm not asking you to do that; I'm telling you
that you have got to do it." Then turning to his brother: "Get your hat
and gun, Cliff, and tell Pompey to bring our horses. We're going to
take this fellow to Willow Mills and let him face Bell Holderness with
this wild tale of his."
Cliff left the room, and Lav spoke again to Dolly: "You may sit down."
"No, thank you," said Dolly. "I shoot better standing!"
"Shoot better! What do you mean by that?"
"I mean that when folks don't trust me, I don't trust them. You been
wanting to kill Randy Ross. You've got the killing idea in your head,
and you'll sure kill somebody if you don't look out."
"Father! Lav!" cried Zella, speaking for the first time. "Can't you see
this young man is telling you the truth!"
"I can see that he has insulted me, and tried to blacken the name of
the best friend we have," snapped Lav, "and I'm going to give him a
chance to square it."
"You're going to crowd Bell Holderness, and get killed yourself," Zella
almost choked.
"No, I'm not," Lav snapped. "I won't get killed at all right now, for
I'm not going to turn my back to this friend of yours and Randy's. I
told you to stay out of this mess. Whenever a woman breaks into a thing
of this kind, she only makes more trouble for everybody. You were told
to give Randy Ross up and forget him."
Zella made no reply. And neither did Dolly. Anywhere else on earth
but where they were Lav would have answered to Dolly at once for his
insinuation that the little puncher would shoot him in the back if he
had a chance. By the time the horses were ready Dolly had cooled a bit.
They went out to mount, where Dolly had left his own horse.
"Now get this," said Lav. "We're going to Willow Mills, and you are
going to face Bell Holderness. There is but one of you and two of us.
If you start anything, you may get one of us, but the other will get
you. If you want to take a chance on a trade like that, it's up to you."
* * * * *
Dolly was in real danger now, and, as usual in such cases, he began to
banter them. His mission had failed. He wanted to kill Lav Tarleton for
his insults, but he mustn't do it. As far as the two to one odds were
concerned, that troubled him not at all. He was sure he could outshoot
the two of them, but he was there to help Randy and Zella.
If he shot one or both of the Tarleton boys, it would be believed that
Randy had sent him to do it. Besides that, he had no ill will toward
Cliff. That young man had spoken but a few words to him, and they had
been courteous ones. Cliff and Zella were alike, and evidently favored
their mother. Lav was like the judge, but lacked the discretion of the
judge's years.
"Maybe you fellows better take my gun," jeered Dolly. "You'll be
safer, and I won't be afraid."
"We're safe enough," retorted Lav, "and you're safe enough with us, as
long as you don't try to get too funny. You'll need your gun when you
face Bell Holderness."
Dolly knew that was true. Unless he missed his guess, Bell knew enough
by this time to make him desperate. Bell's only hope for safety lay in
killing a few people, himself among others. These thoughts were in his
mind as they stopped in front of the Cottonwood, dismounted, and went
in. Two men, in chaps, spurs, and other garments of the range rider,
were standing at the bar, drinking.
"Where's Bell?" Lav asked the bartender.
"I don't know. Him and French Clauson rode away from here together
about night. I reckon they went to the H Bar."
"The H Bar! What business would Bell have there? He told me he had sold
out all his interest over there and was not going back any more. Said
he intended to build a home here at Willow Mills."
The bartender shrugged, and said nothing. He was trying to digest a
message that had come to him over the grapevine a few minutes before.
The man who had brought it stepped in the back door and slipped out
again. Things were not going so well at the H Bar.
"'Scuse me, pardner," said one of the strangers. "If you mean Bell
Holderness, I know where he is--or where he was about sundown. He was
riding hell-for-leather for the H Bar, him and another fellow. Come
take a drink, all you fellows," and the man threw a dollar on the bar.
"Speakin' of the H Bar, they been having a party of some kind over
there. We come from in on the Washita, and aimed to stay all night
there, but it didn't look happy."
"What was the matter?" asked Lav.
"I don't know. There was about forty men there, some packin' one gun
and some two, but nobody was talking. Some of 'em was diggin' holes in
the ground, and four or five dead men lay in a wagon. It didn't look
appetizing, nobody wanted to talk, we wasn't invited to stay, so we
rode on."
"Was Bell there?"
"No, sir, he wasn't, but he was goin' there. We met him and the other
fellow a mile this side of the H Bar, then about a mile the other side
of the river we met Steve Holderness. He wasn't hurrying so much," and
the man slowly poured another drink and swallowed it.
* * * * *
"Did you talk to Steve?" asked the barkeep, apparently to get away from
talking about Bell.
"Why, no, we didn't," the stranger said grimly. "Steve wasn't talking,
either. He was right in the middle of the road, but couldn't get his
feet on the ground. Looked like somebody had hung him out to dry.
Everybody on yan side of the river has been expecting the H Bar to be
took to a cleaning, but we didn't hear of it until we got there."
"You don't speak very respectfully of the dead," said Lav.
"Respectfully, hell, pardner! Don't nobody speak very respectfully
of the Holderness gang over on the other side, whether they're dead
or alive. The decent ranches, farther out in the Indian country, are
getting ready to go in together and clean 'em up. Looks like if you was
a cowman you'd know that."
"I'm not a cowman," returned Lav with dignity. "And I don't live on the
other side."
"Oh, thataway. Well, I ain't talkin' secrets. They's cowmen on this
side of the river, and they know that the H Bar is nothing but a
hangout for thieves and killers. It's a reg'lar vest-pocket hell,
and it's got to be cleaned. Somebody, I don't know who, has trimmed
it some. They told us at the H Bar that Sam was dead. We saw Steve
Holderness hanging up like a side of meat. That leaves only Bell to
ramrod the outfit. I guess he was going home to lead his gang of
killers against whoever it is that's riding them."
Dolly was very much awake now. What he had heard corroborated what the
prisoner had told him at the crack in the smokehouse. The clans had
gathered at the H Bar. Bell had seen the end of his plans unless he
struck quickly. There was only one thing for him to do now, since so
many of his plans had gone awry. That was to raid Silver Bend, kill
Railroad and Randy, and as many more as he could, then let his killers
scatter. With Steve dead there was no longer any one to hold lands in
the Indian country. He had to act, and act with all possible speed.
Dolly had put all these things together in his mind as the stranger
talked. He knew men, and he knew this stranger was telling the truth.
He knew, too, that the man was not just an ordinary cow-puncher, for
all he was clad like one.
"Say there's about forty at the H Bar?" he asked, as the man stopped
talking and rolled a smoke.
"Yes, there was about that many in sight. Probably more scattered
around. I knew some of 'em. Fellows there from several gangs. Some
from Yellow Hills, some from the Arbuckle Mountains, and several other
hangouts. Looked like a rustler's camp-meeting. Are you a cow hand?"
"Yes, sir. Name's Joe Runnels. Work for the Railroad outfit."
"Old Railroad Ross! You're working for a mighty square man. Thomas
is my name, Alec Thomas. I run the T Stripe brand, in on the prairie
between Red River and the Washita. I'm about an eighth Chickasaw, but
nobody notices that, with these blue eyes of mine. Is it the Railroad
that's working on the H Bar?"
"They been working on us some," replied Dolly cautiously.
"I see. Looks like you fellows been swapping work with 'em some. Take
another drink, gents. We got to find a place to sleep."
As the men started out Thomas motioned Dolly to one side and whispered:
"I don't know who your friends are, but you better shake 'em and get
back to the Railroad. Bell Holderness has got his gang bunched for
something."
"That fellow's windy," sneered the bartender, as the two men went out
and crossed to the little hotel.
"I know part of what he said is true," defended Dolly; and, turning to
Lav: "Well, we ain't apt to see Bell to-night. What do you want to do?"
"I don't see anything we can do, except go back home."
"All right, let's ride."
* * * * *
When they had almost reached the Tarleton house Dolly stopped them:
"Now see here, fellows. You talked pretty rough to me, but we'll
forget that. You thought the Railroad outfit killed your brother. I've
told you better, but you still don't believe it. You wouldn't believe
Railroad, and you wouldn't believe Randy if he told you; but he'll
never tell you anything. We can't see Bell Holderness, and he'd lie if
we did see him. Anyway, I'd have killed him before he said anything, if
we had met him. I can prove what I told you by witnesses that saw Bell
shoot Ben in the back."
"Where are they?"
"Under lock and key, at the Railroad."
"We can't go there without--" and Lav stopped.
"Getting killed," Dolly finished for him. "Yes, you can. It takes some
cold nerve, because the bottom is likely to be full of H Bar killers,
but one of you can go there. There's just one man there that would hurt
you, and he's asleep. That's Randy."
"Randy! Why would he hurt us?"
"Why wouldn't he? You've accused him of cold murder when he wasn't
guilty. You've played in with the gang that murdered his brothers. You
sent him word what would happen when you met him, and it'll happen--to
you! But Randy ain't slept none for three nights, and he's dead to the
world. It's up to you now. Either come with me and get proof from those
men, or else put up your guns and stay out of this mess. Make up your
mind, for I can't wait. I got business to attend to."
"I'll go with you," said Cliff calmly.
"Let's ride, then."
"Wait a minute," Lav protested. "What'll I tell father?"
"You ought to have more than you can tell him before morning, after
what Thomas told you. You can tell him what Bell Holderness is, and
ask why he hadn't found it out before now. You can tell him that what
I told him was the truth, and Cliff will be back before morning, with
proof of it. Dammit, tell anything. Tell him about the weather. Let's
go, Cliff." And Dolly set spurs to his horse.
Perfect peace and quiet was over the Silver Bend, as they rode down
from the prairie and took the trail to the Railroad. Dolly was
wondering how long it would remain that way. They stopped at the
corral. Dolly unsaddled his horse and turned it loose, then they stole
through the darkness to the back of the log house where the prisoners
were. A low call of his name brought Turk, or rather Walter, as Dolly
knew him, to the wall.
"Now, tell this gentleman the story you told me about the killing of
Ben Tarleton," said Dolly in a low tone.
Turk not only told it, but elaborated on it, and told it convincingly,
averring again that he and his partner were making a sneak from the H
Bar, because it was too tough, when they were caught.
"Satisfied now?" asked Dolly when they were back at the corral where
Cliff had left his horse.
"Yes, more than satisfied. Zella told me some things that satisfied me
that Bell was crooked and trying to play us for suckers, but I couldn't
tell Lav and father. They won't reason in a case like this. They have
to be shown. I came with you because I wanted to be able to show them."
"Good! Now, when you convince Lav and the judge, they are going to
fly right around, like the arrow on the lightning rod when the wind
changes. They'll want you and Lav to come romping down here to help
Randy hang Bell Holderness. Don't do it. Some more water has got to run
under the bridge before Randy is fit for you and Lav to meet. He may
need help, but you can't help him now."
"Thank you," said Cliff, wringing Dolly's hand. "I won't come into
Silver Bend unless I'm sure I can do some good." And he rode away into
the night.
It was well after midnight, and Dolly was ready to call it a pretty
full day. There was no sign of an attack on the ranch, and he needed
sleep. He would have told Randy what he knew, or at least a part of
it, but Randy needed sleep to put him in shape for what was likely to
come on the morrow. A storm of disaster was brewing over Silver Bend
that would have driven thoughts of sleep from Dolly's mind had he even
dreamed of its terror.