DISAPPEARANCE OF THE ORPHAN
During the night Ferguson had dreamed dreams. A girl with fluffy brown
hair and mocking eyes had been the center of many mental pictures that
had haunted him. He had seen her seated before him, rapidly plying a
pencil. Once he imagined he had peered over her shoulder. He had seen
a sketch of a puncher, upon which she appeared to be working,
representing a man who looked very like himself. He could remember
that he had been much surprised. Did writers draw the pictures that
appeared in their books?
This puncher was sitting in a chair; one foot was bandaged. As he
watched over the girl's shoulder he saw the deft pencil forming the
outlines of another figure--a girl. As this sketch developed he saw
that it was to represent Miss Radford herself. It was a clever pencil
that the girl wielded, for the scene was strikingly real. He even
caught subtle glances from her eyes. But as he looked the scene
changed and the girl stood at the edge of the porch, her eyes mocking
him. And then to his surprise she spoke. "I am going to put you into
a book," she said.
Then he knew why she had tolerated him. He had grown hot and
embarrassed. "You ain't goin' to put me in any book, ma'am," he had
said. "You ain't givin' me a square deal. I wouldn't love no girl
that would put me into a book."
He had seen a sudden scorn in her eyes. "Love!" she said, her lips
curling. "Do you really believe that I would allow a puncher to make
love to me?"
And then the scene had changed again, and he was shooting the head off
a rattler. "I don't want you to love me!" he had declared to it. And
then while the snake writhed he saw another head growing upon it, and a
face. It was the face of Leviatt; and there was mockery in this face
also. While he looked it spoke.
"You'll nurse him so's he won't die?" it had said.
When he awakened his blood was surging with a riotous anger. The dream
was bothering him now, as he rode away from the ranchhouse toward the
gully where he had found the dead Two Diamond cow. He had not reported
the finding of the dead cow, intending to return the next morning to
look the ground over and to fetch the "dogie" back to the home ranch.
It would be time enough then to make a report of the occurrence to
Stafford.
It was mid-morning when he finally reached the gully and rode down into
it. He found the dead cow still there. He dismounted to drive away
some crows that had gathered around the body. Then he noticed that the
calf had disappeared. It had strayed, perhaps. A calf could not be
depended upon to remain very long beside its dead mother, though he had
known cases where they had. But if it had strayed it could not be very
far away. He remounted his pony and loped down the gully, reaching the
ridge presently and riding along this, searching the surrounding
country with keen glances. He could see no signs of the calf. He came
to a shelf-rock presently, beside which grew a tangled gnarl of
scrub-oak brush. Something lay in the soft sand and he dismounted
quickly and picked up a leather tobacco pouch. He examined this
carefully. There were no marks on it to tell who might be the owner.
"A man who loses his tobacco in this country is mighty careless," he
observed, smiling; "or in pretty much of a hurry."
He went close to the thicket, looking down at it, searching the sand
with interest. Presently he made out the impression of a foot in a
soft spot and, looking further, saw two furrows that might have been
made by a man kneeling. He knelt in the furrows himself and with one
hand parted the brush. He smiled grimly as, peering into the gully, he
saw the dead Two Diamond cow on the opposite side.
He stepped abruptly away from the thicket and looked about him. A few
yards back there was a deep depression in the ridge, fringed with a
growth of nondescript weed. He approached this and peered into it.
Quite recently a horse had been there. He could plainly see the
hoof-prints--where the animal had pawed impatiently. He returned to
the thicket, convinced.
"Some one was here yesterday when I was down there lookin' at that
cow," he decided. "They was watchin' me. That man I seen ridin' that
other ridge was with the one who was here. Now why didn't this man
slope too?"
He stood erect, looking about him. Then he smiled.
"Why, it's awful plain," he said. "The man who was on this ridge was
watchin'. He heard my gun go off, when I shot that snake. I reckon he
figgered that if he tried to ride away on this ridge whoever'd done the
shootin' would see him. An' so he didn't go. He stayed right here an'
watched me when I rode up." He smiled. "There ain't no use lookin'
for that dogie. The man that stayed here has run him off."
There was nothing left for Ferguson to do. He mounted and rode slowly
along the ridge, examining the tobacco pouch. And then suddenly he
discovered something that brought an interested light to his eyes.
Beneath the greasy dirt on the leather he could make out the faint
outlines of two letters. Time had almost obliterated these, but by
moistening his fingers and rubbing the dirt from the leather he was
able to trace them. They had been burned in, probably branded with a
miniature iron.
"D. L," he spelled.
He rode on again, his lips straightening into serious lines.
He mentally catalogued the names he had heard since coming to the Two
Diamond. None answered for the initials "D. L." It was evident that
the pouch could belong to no one but Dave Leviatt. In that case what
had Leviatt been doing on the ridge? Why, he had been watching the
rustler, of course. In that case the man must be known to him. But
what had become of the dogie? What would have been Leviatt's duty,
after the departure of the rustlers? Obviously to drive the calf to
the herd and report the occurrence to the manager.
Leviatt may have driven the calf to the herd, but assuredly he had not
reported the occurrence to the manager, for he had not been in to the
ranchhouse. Why not?
Ferguson pondered long over this, while his pony traveled the river
trail toward the ranchhouse. Finally he smiled. Of course, if the man
on the ridge had been Leviatt, he must have been there still when
Ferguson came up, or he would not have been there to drive the Two
Diamond calf to the herd after Ferguson had departed. In that case he
must have seen Ferguson, and must be waiting for the latter to make the
report to the manager. But what motive would he have in this?
Here was more mystery. Ferguson might have gone on indefinitely
arranging motives, but none of them would have brought him near the
truth.
He could, however, be sure of three things. Leviatt had seen the
rustler and must know him; he had seen Ferguson, and knew that he knew
that a rustler had been in the gully before him; and for some
mysterious reason he had not reported to the manager. But Ferguson had
one advantage that pleased him, even drew a grim smile to his lips as
he rode on his way. Leviatt may have seen him near the dead Two
Diamond cow, but he certainly was not aware that Ferguson knew he
himself had been there during the time that the rustler had been at
work.
Practically, of course, this knowledge would avail Ferguson little.
Yet it was a good thing to know, for Leviatt must have some reason for
secrecy, and if anything developed later Ferguson would know exactly
where the range boss stood in the matter.
Determined to investigate as far as possible, he rode down the river
for a few miles, finally reaching a broad plain where the cattle were
feeding. Some cowboys were scattered over this plain, and before
riding very far Ferguson came upon Rope. The latter spurred close to
him, grinning.
"I'm right glad to see you," said the puncher. "You've been keepin'
yourself pretty scarce. Scared of another run-in with Leviatt?"
"Plum scared," returned Ferguson. "I reckon that man'll make me
nervous--give him time."
"Yu' don't say?" grinned Rope. "I wasn't noticin' that you was
worryin' about him."
"I'm right flustered," returned Ferguson. "Where's he now?"
"Gone down the crick--with Tucson."
Ferguson smoothed Mustard's mane. "Leviatt been with you right along?"
"He went up the crick yesterday," returned Rope, looking quickly at the
stray-man.
"Went alone, I reckon?"
"With Tucson." Rope was trying to conceal his interest in these
questions.
But apparently Ferguson's interest was only casual. He turned a
quizzical eye upon Rope. "You an' Tucson gettin' along?" he questioned.
"Me an' him's of the same mind about one thing," returned Rope.
"Well, now." Ferguson's drawl was pregnant with humor. "You surprise
me. An' so you an' him have agreed. I reckon you ain't willin' to
tell me what you've agreed about?"
"I'm sure tellin'," grinned Rope. "Me an' him's each dead certain that
the other's a low down horse thief."
The eyes of the two men met fairly. Both smiled.
"Then I reckon you an' Tucson are lovin' one another about as well as
me an' Leviatt," observed Ferguson.
"There ain't a turruble lot of difference," agreed Rope.
"An' so Tucson's likin' you a heap," drawled Ferguson absently. He
gravely contemplated the puncher. "I expect you was a long ways off
yesterday when Leviatt an' Tucson come in from up the crick?" he asked.
"Not a turruble ways off," returned Rope. "I happened to have this end
an' they passed right close to me. They clean forgot to speak."
"Well, now," said Ferguson. "That was sure careless of them. But I
reckon they was busy at somethin' when they passed. In that case they
wouldn't have time to speak. I've heard tell that some folks can't do
more'n one thing at a time."
Rope laughed. "They was puttin' in a heap of their time tryin' to make
me believe they didn't see me," he returned. "Otherwise they wasn't
doin' anything."
"Shucks!" declared Ferguson heavily. "I reckon them men wouldn't go
out of their way to drive a poor little dogie in off the range.
They're that hard hearted."
"Correct," agreed Rope. "You ain't missin' them none there."
Ferguson smiled, urging his pony about. "I'm figgerin' on gettin' back
to the Two Diamond," he said. He rode a few feet and then halted,
looking back over his shoulder. "You ain't givin' Tucson no chancst to
say you drawed first?" he warned.
Rope laughed grimly. "If there's any shootin' goin' on," he replied,
"Tucson ain't goin' to say nothin' after it's over."
"Well, so-long," said Ferguson, urging his pony forward. He heard
Rope's answer, and then rode on, deeply concerned over his discovery.
Leviatt and Tucson had ridden up the river the day before. They had
returned empty handed. And so another link had been added to the chain
of mystery. Where was the dogie?