FOR THE ALTARS OF HIS TRIBE
The first sound that Betty heard when consciousness began to return to
her was a loud pounding at the kitchen door.
She had fallen to the floor just beneath the shelf on which the lamp
sat, and she raised herself on an elbow and looked around. At first
she did not remember what had happened, and then she saw Taggart, lying
face upward on the floor near her, the frightful hole in his forehead,
and she shuddered as recollection in a sickening flood came to her.
Bob, dear Bob, had not failed her.
She got up, trembling a little, breathing a prayer of thankfulness,
shrinking from the Thing that lay on the floor at her feet with its
horror-stricken eyes staring straight up at the ceiling, making her way
to the kitchen door, for the pounding had grown louder and more
insistent, and she could hear a voice calling hoarsely to her.
But it did not seem to be Bob's voice; it was deeper and more resonant,
and vibrated clearly, strongly, and with passion. It was strangely
familiar, though, and she shook a little with a nameless anxiety and
anticipation as she fumbled at the fastenings of the door and swung it
open.
It was not Bob, but Calumet, who stepped in. One of his heavy pistols
was in his right hand; with the left he had helped her to swing the
door open, and he stood, for the first brief instant following his
entrance, his arms extended, gazing sharply at Taggart. Then, quickly,
apparently satisfied that he need have no concern for his enemy, he
turned to Betty, placed both hands on her shoulders--the heavy pistol
in his right resting on her--she felt the warmth of the barrel as it
touched the thin material of her dress and knew then that it had been
he who had fired the shot that had been the undoing of her
assailant--and holding her away from him a little peered searchingly at
her.
[Illustration: Calumet stepped in.]
His face was pale, his lips stiff and white, and his eyes were alight
with the wanton fire that she had seen in them many times, though now
there was something added to their expression--concern and thankfulness.
"God!" he said, after a little space, during which she looked at him
with shining eyes. She no longer gave any thought to Taggart; the
struggle with him was an already fading nightmare in her recollection;
he had been eliminated, destroyed, by the man who stood before her--by
the man whose presence in the kitchen now stirred her to an emotion
that she had never before experienced--by the man who had come back to
her. And that was all that she had cared for--that he would come back.
With a short laugh he released her and stepped over to where Taggart
lay, looking down at him with a cold, satisfied smile.
"I reckon you won't bother nobody any more," he said.
He turned to Betty, the pale stiffness of his lips softening a little
as she smiled at him.
"I want to thank you," he said, "for sendin' Toban after me. He caught
me. I wasn't ridin' so fast an' I heard him comin'. I knowed who it
was, an' stopped to have it out with him. He yelled that he didn't
want me; that you'd sent him after me. We met Dade an' Malcolm--we'd
passed Double Fork an' nothin' was bogged down. So we knowed
somebody'd framed somethin' up. I come on ahead." He grinned.
"Toban's been braggin' some about his horse, but I reckon that don't go
any more. That black horse can run." He indicated Taggart. "I reckon
he come here just to bother you," he said.
She told him about the diagram and he started, stepping quickly to
where Taggart lay, searching in his pockets until he found the paper.
Then he went to the door. Standing in it, he looked as he had looked
that day when he had humiliated Neal Taggart in her presence. The
gentleness which she had seen in him some hours before--and which she
had welcomed--had disappeared; his lips had become stiff and pale
again, his eyes were narrowed and brilliant with the old destroying
fire. She grew rigid and drew a deep, quivering breath, for she saw
that the pistol was still in his hand.
"What are you going to do?" she asked.
"I reckon old Taggart will still be waitin' in the timber grove," he
said with a short, grim laugh. "They've bothered me enough. I'm goin'
to send him where I sent his coyote son."
At that word she was close to him, her hands on his shoulders.
"Don't!" she pleaded; "please don't!" She shuddered and cast a quick,
shrinking glance at the man on the floor. "There has been enough
trouble tonight," she said. "You stay here!" she commanded, trying to
pull him away from the door, but not succeeding.
He seized her face with his hands in much the same manner in which he
had seized it in his father's office on the night of his return to the
Lazy Y--she felt the cold stock of the pistol against her cheek and
shuddered again. A new light had leaped into his eyes--the suspicion
that she had seen there many times before.
"Are you wantin' old Taggart to get away with the idol?" he demanded.
"He can't!" she denied. "He hasn't the diagram, has he? You have just
put it in your pocket!"
A quick embarrassment swept over him; he dropped his hands from her
face. "I reckon that's right," he admitted. "But I'm goin' to' send
him over the divide, idol or no idol."
"He won't be in the timber grove," she persisted; "he must have heard
the shooting and he wouldn't stay."
"I reckon he won't be able to run away from that black horse," he
laughed. "I'll ketch him before he gets very far."
"You shan't go!" she declared, making a gesture of impotence. "Don't
you see?" she added. "It isn't Taggart that I care about--it's you. I
don't want you to be shot--killed. I won't have it! If Taggart hasn't
gone by this time he will be hidden somewhere over there and when he
sees you he will shoot you!"
"Well," he said, watching her face with a curious smile; "I'm takin' a
look, anyway." In spite of her efforts to prevent him he stepped over
the threshold. She was about to follow him when she saw him wheel
swiftly, his pistol at a poise as his gaze fell upon something outside
the ranchhouse. And then she saw him smile.
"It's Bob," he said; "with a rifle." And he helped the boy, white of
face and trembling, though with the light of stern resolution in his
eyes, into the kitchen.
"Bob'll watch you," he said; "so's nothin' will happen to you.
Besides--" he leaned forward in a listening attitude; "Toban an' the
boys are comin'. I reckon what I'm goin' to do won't take me long--if
Taggart's in the timber."
He stepped down and vanished around the corner of the ranchhouse.
He had scarcely gone before there was a clatter of hoofs in the
ranchhouse yard, a horse dashed up to the edge of the porch, came to a
sliding halt and the lank figure of Toban appeared before the door in
which Betty was standing.
He looked at her, noted her white face, and peered over her shoulder at
Bob, with the rifle, at Taggart on the floor.
"Holy smoke!" he said; "what's happened?"
She told him quickly, in short, brief sentences; her eyes glowing with
fear. He tried to squeeze past her to get into the kitchen, but she
prevented him, blocking the doorway, pushing hysterically against him
with her hands.
"Calumet has gone to the timber grove--to the clearing--to look for Tom
Taggart. Taggart will ambush him, will kill him! I don't want him
killed! Go to him, Toban--get him to come back!"
"Shucks," said Toban, grinning; "I reckon you don't need to worry none.
If Taggart's over in the timber an' he sees Calumet he'll just
naturally forget he's got a gun. But if it'll ease your mind any, I'll
go after him. Damn his hide, anyway!" he chuckled. "I was braggin' up
my cayuse to him, an' after we met Dade an' Malcolm he run plumb away
from me. Ride! Holy smoke!"
He crossed the porch, leaped into the saddle and disappeared amid a
clatter of hoofs.
Betty stood rigid in the doorway, listening--dreading to hear that
which she expected to hear--the sound of a pistol shot which would tell
her that Calumet and Taggart had met.
But no sound reached her ears from the direction of the timber grove.
She heard another sound presently--the faint beat of hoofs that grew
more distinct each second. It was Dade and Malcolm coming, she knew,
and when they finally rode up and Dade flung himself from the saddle
and darted to her side she was paler than at any time since her first
surprise of the night.
Again she was forced to tell her story. And after it was finished, and
she had watched Dade and Malcolm carry Neal Taggart from the room, she
went over to where Bob sat, took him by the shoulder and led him to one
of the kitchen windows, and there, holding him close to her, her face
white, she stared with dreading, anxious eyes through the glass toward
the timber clump. She would have gone out to see for herself, but she
knew that she could do nothing. If he did not come back she knew that
she would not want to stay at the Lazy Y any longer; she knew that
without him--
She no longer weighed him in the balances of her affection as she stood
there by the window, she did not critically array his good qualities
against the bad. She had passed that point now. She merely wanted
him. That was all--she just wanted him. And when at last she saw him
coming; heard his voice, she hugged Bob closer to her, and with her
face against his sobbed silently.
A few minutes after he left the ranchhouse Calumet was in the clearing
in the timber grove, standing over the body of a man who lay face
upward beside a freshly-dug hole at the edge of a mesquite clump. He
was still standing there when a few minutes later Toban came clattering
up on his horse. The sheriff dismounted and stood beside him.
Calumet gave Toban one look and then spoke shortly:
"Taggart," he said.
"Lord!" said Toban, in an awed voice; "what in blazes did you do to
him? I didn't hear no shootin'! Is he dead?"
Both kneeled over the prone figure and Calumet pointed to the haft of a
knife that was buried deep in the body near the heart.
"Telza's," said Calumet, as he examined the handle. "I dropped it here
the other night; the night Sharp was killed."
"Correct," said Toban; "I saw you drop it." He smiled at the quick,
inquiring glance Calumet gave him.
"I was comin' through here after tendin' to some business an' I saw
Telza knife Sharp. I piled onto Telza an' beat him up a little.
Lordy, how that little copper-skinned devil did fight! But I squelched
him. I heard some one comin', thought it was one of Taggarts, an'
dragged Telza behind that scrub brush over there. I saw you come, but
I wasn't figgerin' on makin' any explanations for my bein' around the
Lazy Y at that time of the night, an' besides I saw the Taggarts
sneakin' up on you. While they was gassin' to you I had one knee on
Telza's windpipe an' my rifle pointin' in the general direction of the
Taggarts, figgerin' that if they tried to start anything I'd beat them
to it. But as it turned out it wasn't necessary. I sure appreciated
your tender-heartedness toward them poor dumb brutes of the Taggarts.
"After you set the Taggarts to walkin' home, I took Telza to Lazette
an' locked him up for murderin' Sharp."
"I reckon, then," said Calumet, a puzzled frown wrinkling his forehead
as he looked from Taggart to the freshly dug hole; "that somebody else
killed Taggart. It was someone who knew where the idol was, too--he'd
been diggin' for it."
"I reckon you've got me," said Toban. "Sharp an' Telza an' you an'
Betty is the only one's that ever saw the diagram. I saw you pick it
up from where Telza dropped it when I was maulin' him. I know you
didn't do any diggin' for the idol; I know Betty wouldn't; an' Sharp's
dead, an' Telza's in jail--"
There was a clatter of hoofs from the direction of the ranchhouse.
Both men turned to confront a horseman who was coming rapidly toward
them, and as he came closer Toban cried out in surprise:
"Ed Bernse!" he said; "what in thunder are you doin' here?"
"Trailin' a jail breaker!" said the latter. "That copper-skinned
weazel we had in there slipped out some way. He stole a horse an' come
in this direction. Got an hour's start of me!"
Calumet laughed shortly and turned to the new-made excavation, making a
thorough examination of it.
At its bottom was a square impression, a mold such as would be left by
the removal of a box. Calumet stood up and grinned at Toban.
"The idol's gone," he said. "Telza's got it. You go back to Lazette,"
he said to Bernse, "an' tell the man who owns the horse that Calumet
Marston will be glad to pay for it--he's that damned glad he's got rid
of the idol."
Followed by Bernse, Calumet and Toban returned to the ranchhouse. When
they neared it they were met by Dade and Malcolm, bearing between them
the body of Neal Taggart. Calumet directed them to the clearing,
telling them briefly what they would find there, and then, with Toban
and Bernse, continued on to the ranchhouse.
Bernse hesitated at the door. "I reckon I'll be lightin' out for
town," he said to the sheriff.
"Wait," said the sheriff; "I'll be goin' that way myself, directly."
Calumet had preceded Toban. As the latter was speaking to Bernse,
Calumet stood before Betty, who, with Bob, had moved to the
sitting-room door and was standing, pale, her eyes moist and brilliant
with the depth of her emotions.
Briefly, he told her what he had found in the clearing.
"And the idol's gone," he concluded. "Telza's got it."
"Thank God!" she exclaimed, devoutly.
"I reckon," came Toban's voice, as he stepped across the kitchen floor
toward them, "that we'd better bring this here idol business to an end.
Mebbe it's bothered you folks a heap, but it's had me sorta uneasy,
too." He grinned at Betty. "Mebbe you'd better show him his dad's
last letter," he suggested. "I reckon it'll let me out of this deal.
An' I'm sure wantin' to go back home."
Betty vanished into the sitting-room in an instant, and presently
returned bearing an envelope of the shape and size which had contained
all of the elder Marston's previous communications to Calumet. She
passed it over to the latter and she and the sheriff watched him while
he read.
"MY DEAR SON: If you receive this you will understand that by this time
Betty is satisfied that you have qualified for your heritage. I thank
you and wish I were there to shake your hand, to look into your eyes
and tell you how glad I am for your sake.
"As soon as you have your affairs in shape I want you to marry
Betty--if she will have you. I think she will, for she is in love with
your picture.
"By this time you will know that I didn't leave Betty alone to cope
with the Taggarts. If Dave Toban has kept his word--and I know he
has--he has visited the Lazy Y pretty often. I didn't want you to know
that he was back of Betty, and so I have told him to visit her
secretly. He will give you what money is left in the bank at Las
Vegas--we thought it would be safer over there.
"I want to thank you again. God bless you.
"Your father,
"JAMES MARSTON."
Calumet slowly folded the letter and placed it into a pocket. He
looked at Toban, a glint of reproach in his eyes.
"So, it was you that I kept hearin' in the office--nights," he said.
"I reckon," said Toban. He looked at Betty and grinned.
Calumet also looked at her. His face was sober.
"I reckon I've been some fool," he said. "But I was more than a fool
when I thought--"
"I didn't blame you much for that," smiled Betty. "You see, both times
you heard us talking it happened that Taggart was somewhere in the
vicinity, and--"
"Well," interrupted Toban with a grin; "I reckon you two will be able
to get along without any outside interference, now."
They both watched in silence as he went to the door and stepped
outside. He halted and looked at them, whereat they both reddened.
Then he grinned widely and was gone.
Betty stood at one side of the sitting-room door, Calumet at the other.
Both were in the kitchen. Bob, also, was in the kitchen, though
Calumet and Betty did not see him; so it appeared to Bob. Having some
recollection of a certain light in Betty's eyes on the night that
Calumet had brought home the puppy, Bob's wisdom impelled him to
compare it with the light that was in them now, and he suspected--he
knew--
And so, very gently, very quietly, with infinite care and patience,
lest they become aware of his presence, he edged toward the kitchen
door, his rifle in hand. Still they did not seem to notice him, and so
he passed through the door, into the dining-room, backed to the stairs,
and so left them.
The silence between Betty and Calumet continued, and they still stood
where they had stood when Bob had stolen away, for they heard sounds
outside that warned them of the approach of Dade and Malcolm.
But it seemed they did not see Dade and Malcolm stop at one of the
kitchen windows, and certainly they did not hear the whispered
conversation that was carried on between the two.
"Shucks," said Dade; "it begins to look like Cal an' Betty's quarrel
is--"
"I reckon we won't go in," decided Malcolm; "not right now. Mebbe in
an hour, or so. Let's go down to the bunkhouse and play a little
pitch."
They were all alone now. And Love had not been blind to the stealthy
activities that had been carried on around it.
Betty turned her head and looked at Calumet. He smiled at her--it was
the smile of a man who has won a battle with something more than the
material things; it was the smile of a man who has conquered self--the
smile of the ruler who knows the weakness of the citadel he has taken
and plans its strengthening. It was the smile of the master who
realizes the potent influence of the ally who has aided in his
exaltation and who meditates reward through the simple method of
bestowing upon the ally without reservation that citadel which she has
helped to take and which, needless to say, she prizes. But it was
something more, too, that smile. It was the smile of the mere Man--the
man, repentant, humble, petitioning to the woman he has selected as his
mate.
"I reckon," he said; "that they all thought we wanted to be alone."
But the ally was not prepared for this precipitate bestowal of reward,
and as she blushed and looked down at the toe of her shoe, sticking out
from beneath the hem of her skirt, she looked little like a person who
had conducted a bitter war for the master who stood near her.
"Oh," she said; "did you hear them?"
"I reckon I heard them," he said. He went closer to her. "They're
wise--Dade an' Malcolm. Bob, too. Wiser than me. But I'm gettin'
sense, an' I'll come pretty close to bein' a man--give me time. All I
need is a boss. An' if you--"
"I reckon," said Dade, stretching himself an hour later, "that we'll
turn in. That brandin' today, an' that ridin' tonight has bushed
me--kinda."
Malcolm agreed and they stepped to the bunkhouse door.
The moonlight threw a mellow glare upon the porch of the ranchhouse
near the kitchen door. It bathed in its effulgent flood two figures,
the boss and the master, who were sitting close together--very close
together--on the porch.
The two figures came into instant focus in Dade's vision. He stepped
back with a amused growl and gave place to Malcolm, who also looked.
Silently they went back into the bunkhouse.
"I reckon," suggested Dade, from the darkness, "that if we're figgerin'
to go to bed we'll have to bunk right here. There's no tellin' when
them two will get through mushin'. An' it's been too hard a tussle for
them to have us disturbin' them now."
From the porch there came a low protest from the ally.
"Don't, Cal," she said; "don't you see that Dade and Malcolm are
watching us?"
"Jealous, I guess," he laughed. "Well, let them watch. I reckon, if
they're around here for any time, after this, they'll see me kissin'
you plenty more."
THE END
End of Project Gutenberg's The Boss of the Lazy Y, by Charles Alden Seltzer