KEEPING A PROMISE
Ferguson's dreams had been troubled. Long before dawn he was awake and
outside the bunkhouse, splashing water over his face from the tin wash
basin that stood on the bench just outside the door. Before breakfast
he had saddled and bridled Mustard, and directly after the meal he was
in the saddle, riding slowly toward the river.
Before very long he was riding through Bear Flat, and after a time he
came to the hill where only two short days before he had reveled in the
supreme happiness that had followed months of hope and doubt. It did
not seem as though it had been only two days. It seemed that time was
playing him a trick. Yet he knew that to-day was like yesterday--each
day like its predecessor--that if the hours dragged it was because in
the bitterness of his soul he realized that today could not be--for
him--like the day before yesterday; and that succeeding days gave no
promise of restoring to him the happiness that he had lost.
He saw the sun rising above the rim of hills that surrounded the flat;
he climbed to the rock upon which he had sat--with her--watching the
shadows retreat to the mountains, watching the sun stream down into the
clearing and upon the Radford cabin. But there was no longer beauty in
the picture--for him. Hereafter he would return to that life that he
had led of old; the old hard life that he had known before his brief
romance had given him a fleeting glimpse of what might have been.
Many times, when his hopes had been high, he had felt a chilling fear
that he would never be able to reach the pinnacle of promise; that in
the end fate would place before him a barrier--the barrier in the shape
of his contract with Stafford, that he had regretted many times.
Mary Radford would never believe his protest that he had not been hired
to kill her brother. Fate, in the shape of Leviatt, had forestalled
him there. Many times, when she had questioned him regarding the hero
in her story, he had been on the point of taking her into his
confidence as to the reason of his presence at the Two Diamond, but he
had always put it off, hoping that things would be righted in the end
and that he would be able to prove to her the honesty of his intentions.
But now that time was past. Whatever happened now she would believe
him the creature that she despised--that all men despised; the man who
strikes in the dark.
This, then, was to be the end. He could not say that he had been
entirely blameless. He should have told her. But it was not the end
that he was now contemplating. There could be no end until there had
been an accounting between him and Leviatt. Perhaps the men who had
shot Ben Radford in the back would never be known. He had his
suspicions, but they availed nothing. In the light of present
circumstances Miss Radford would never hold him guiltless.
Until near noon he sat on the rock on the crest of the hill, the lines
of his face growing more grim, his anger slowly giving way to the
satisfying calmness that comes when the mind has reached a conclusion.
There would be a final scene with Leviatt, and then----
He rose from the rock, made his way deliberately down the hillside,
mounted his pony, and struck the trail leading to the Two Diamond
ranchhouse.
About noon Leviatt and Tucson rode in to the Two Diamond corral gate,
dismounted from their ponies, and proceeded to the bunkhouse for
dinner. The men of the outfit were already at the table, and after
washing their faces from the tin wash basin on the bench outside the
door, Leviatt and Tucson entered the bunkhouse and took their places.
Greetings were given and returned through the medium of short
nods--with several of the men even this was omitted. Leviatt was not a
popular range boss, and there were some of the men who had whispered
their suspicions that the death of Rope Jones had not been brought
about in the regular way. Many of them remembered the incident that
had occurred between Rope, the range boss, Tucson, and the new
stray-man, and though opinions differed, there were some who held that
the death of Rope might have resulted from the ill-feeling engendered
by the incident. But in the absence of proof there was nothing to be
done. So those men who held suspicions wisely refrained from talking
in public.
Before the meal was finished the blacksmith poked his head in through
the open doorway, calling: "Ol' Man wants to see Leviatt up in the
office!"
The blacksmith's head was withdrawn before Leviatt, who had heard the
voice but had not seen the speaker, could raise his voice in reply. He
did not hasten, however, and remained at the table with Tucson for five
minutes after the other men had left. Then, with a final word to
Tucson, he rose and strode carelessly to the door of Stafford's office.
The latter had been waiting with some impatience, and at the appearance
of the range boss he shoved his chair back from his desk and arose.
"Just come in?" he questioned.
"Just come in," repeated Leviatt drawling. "Plum starved. Had to eat
before I came down here."
He entered and dropped lazily into a chair near the desk, stretching
his legs comfortably. He had observed in Stafford's manner certain
signs of a subdued excitement, and while he affected not to notice
this, there was a glint of feline humor in his eyes.
"Somebody said you wanted me," he said. "Anything doin'?"
Stafford had held in as long as he could. Now he exploded.
"What in hell do you suppose I sent for you for?" he demanded, as,
walking to and fro in the room, he paused and glared down at the range
boss. "Where you been? We're twenty calves an' a dozen cows short on
the tally!"
Leviatt looked up, his eyes suddenly flashing. "Whew!" he exclaimed.
"They're hittin' them pretty heavy lately. When was they missed?"
Stafford spluttered impotently. "Night before last," he flared. "An'
not a damned sign of where they went!"
Leviatt grinned coldly. "Them rustlers is gettin' to be pretty slick,
ain't they?" he drawled.
Stafford's face swelled with a rage that threatened to bring on
apoplexy. He brought a tense fist heavily down upon his desk top.
"Slick!" he sneered. "I don't reckon they're any slick. It's that
I've got a no good outfit. There ain't a man in the bunch could see a
rustler if he'd hobbled a cow and was runnin' her calf off before their
eyes!" He hesitated to gain breath before continuing. "What have I
got an outfit for? What have I got a range boss for? What have I
got----!"
Leviatt grinned wickedly and Stafford hesitated, his hand upraised.
"Your stray-man doin' anything these days?" questioned Leviatt
significantly. "Because if he is," resumed Leviatt, before the manager
could reply, "he ought to manage to be around where them thieves are
workin'."
Stafford stiffened. He had developed a liking for the stray-man and he
caught a note of venom in Leviatt's voice.
"I reckon the stray-man knows what he's doin'," he replied. He
returned to his chair beside the desk and sat in it, facing Leviatt,
and speaking with heavy sarcasm. "The stray-man's the only one of the
whole bunch that's doin' anything," he said.
"Sure," sneered Leviatt; "he's gettin' paid for sparkin' Mary Radford."
"Mebbe he is," returned Stafford. "I don't know as I'd blame him any
for that. But he's been doin' somethin' else now an' then, too."
"Findin' the man that's been rustlin' your stock, for instance," mocked
Leviatt.
Stafford leaned back in his chair, frowning.
"Look here, Leviatt," he said steadily. "I might have spoke a little
strong to you about them missin' cattle. But I reckon you're partly to
blame. If you'd been minded to help Ferguson a little, instead of
actin' like a fool because you've thought he's took a shine to Mary
Radford, we might have been further along with them rustlers. As it
is, Ferguson's been playin' a lone hand. But he claims to have been
doin' somethin'. He ain't been in the habit of blowin' his own horn,
an' I reckon we can rely on what he says. I'm wantin' you to keep the
boys together this afternoon, for we might need them to help Ferguson
out. He's promised to ride in to-day an' show me the man who's been
rustlin' my cattle."
Leviatt's lips slowly straightened. He sat more erect, and when he
spoke the mockery had entirely gone from his voice and from his manner.
"He's goin' to do what?" he questioned coldly.
"Show me the man who's been rustlin' my cattle," repeated Stafford.
For a brief space neither man spoke--nor moved. Stafford's face wore
the smile of a man who has just communicated some unexpected and
astonishing news and was watching its effect with suppressed enjoyment.
He knew that Leviatt felt bitter toward the stray-man and that the news
that the latter might succeed in doing the thing that he had set out to
do would not be received with any degree of pleasure by the range boss.
But watching closely, Stafford was forced to admit that Leviatt did not
feel so strongly, or was cleverly repressing his emotions. There was
no sign on the range boss's face that he had been hurt by the news.
His face had grown slightly paler and there was a hard glitter in his
narrowed eyes. But his voice was steady.
"Well, now," he said, "that ought to tickle you a heap."
"I won't be none disappointed," returned Stafford.
Leviatt looked sharply at him and crossed his arms over his chest.
"When was you talkin' to him?" he questioned.
"Yesterday."
Leviatt's lips moved slightly. "An' when did you say them cattle was
rustled?" he asked.
"Night before last," returned Stafford.
Leviatt was silent for a brief time. Then he unfolded his arms and
stood erect, his eyes boring into Stafford's.
"When you expectin' Ferguson?" he questioned.
"He didn't say just when he was comin' in," returned Stafford. "But I
reckon we might expect him any time."
Leviatt strode to the door. Looking back over his shoulder, he smiled
evilly. "I'm much obliged to you for tellin' me," he said. "We'll be
ready for him."
A little over an hour after his departure from the hill, Ferguson rode
up to the Two Diamond corral gate and dismounted.
Grouped around the door of the bunkhouse were several of the Two
Diamond men; in a strip of shade from the blacksmith shop were others.
Jocular words were hurled at him by some of the men as he drew the
saddle from Mustard, for the stray-man's quietness and invariable
thoughtfulness had won him a place in the affections of many of the
men, and their jocular greetings were evidence of this.
He nodded shortly to them, but did not answer. And instead of lugging
his saddle to its accustomed peg in the lean-to, he threw it over the
corral fence and left it. Then, without another look toward the men,
he turned and strode toward the manager's office.
The latter was seated at his desk and looked up at the stray-man's
entrance. He opened his lips to speak, but closed them again,
surprised at the stray-man's appearance.
During the months that Ferguson had worked at the Two Diamond, Stafford
had not seen him as he looked at this moment. Never, during the many
times the manager had seen him, had he been able to guess anything of
the stray-man's emotions by looking at his face. Now, however, there
had come a change. In the set, tightly drawn lips were the tell-tale
signs of an utterable resolve. In the narrowed, steady eyes was a
light that chilled Stafford like a cold breeze in the heat of a
summer's day. In the man's whole body was something that shocked the
manager into silence.
He came into the room, standing near the door, his set lips moving a
very little, "You heard anything from Leviatt yet?" he questioned.
"Why, yes," returned Stafford, hesitatingly; "he was here, talkin' to
me. Ain't been gone more'n half an hour. I reckon he's somewhere
around now."
"You talkin' to him, you say?" said the stray-man slowly. He smiled
mirthlessly. "I reckon you told him about them missin' calves?"
"I sure did!" returned Stafford with much vehemence. He laughed
harshly. "I told him more," he said; "I told him you was goin' to show
me the man who'd rustled them."
Ferguson's lips wreathed into a grim smile. "So you told him?" he
said. "I was expectin' you'd do that, if he got in before me. That's
why I stopped in here. That was somethin' which I was wantin' him to
know. I don't want it to be said that I didn't give him a chance."
Stafford rose from his chair, taking a step toward the stray-man.
"Why, what----?" he began. But a look at the stray-man's face silenced
him.
"I've come over here to-day to show you that rustler I told you about
yesterday. I'm goin' to look for him now. If he ain't sloped I reckon
you'll see him pretty soon."
Leviatt stepped down from the door of the manager's office and strode
slowly toward the bunkhouse. On the way he passed several of the men,
but he paid no attention to them, his face wearing an evil expression,
his eyes glittering venomously.
When he reached the bunkhouse he passed several more of the men without
a word, going directly to a corner of the room where sat Tucson and
conversing earnestly with his friend. A little later both he and
Tucson rose and passed out of the bunkhouse, walking toward the
blacksmith shop.
After a little they appeared, again joining the group outside the
bunkhouse. It was while Leviatt and Tucson were in the blacksmith shop
that Ferguson had come in. When they came out again the stray-man had
disappeared into the manager's office.
Since the day when in the manager's office, Ferguson had walked across
the floor to return to Leviatt the leather tobacco pouch that the
latter had dropped in the depression on the ridge above the gully where
the stray-man had discovered the dead Two Diamond cow and her calf,
Leviatt had known that the stray-man suspected him of being leagued
with the rustlers. But this knowledge had not disturbed him. He felt
secure because of his position. Even the stray-man would have to have
absolute, damning evidence before he could hope to be successful in
proving a range boss guilty of cattle stealing.
Leviatt had been more concerned over the stray-man's apparent success
in courting Mary Radford. His hatred--beginning with the shooting
match in Dry Bottom--had been intensified by the discovery of Ferguson
on the Radford porch in Bear Flat; by the incident at the bunkhouse,
when Rope Jones had prevented Tucson from shooting the stray-man from
behind, and by the discovery that the latter suspected him of
complicity with the cattle thieves. But it had reached its highest
point when Mary Radford spurned his love. After that he had realized
that just so long as the stray-man lived and remained at the Two
Diamond there would be no peace or security for him there.
Yet he had no thought of settling his differences with Ferguson as man
to man. Twice had he been given startling proof of the stray-man's
quickness with the six-shooter, and each time his own slowness had been
crushingly impressed on his mind. He was not fool enough to think that
he could beat the stray-man at that game.
But there were other ways. Rope Jones had discovered that--when it had
been too late to profit. Rope had ridden into a carefully laid trap
and, in spite of his reputation for quickness in drawing his weapon,
had found that the old game of getting a man between two fires had
proven efficacious.
And now Leviatt and Tucson were to attempt the scheme again. Since his
interview with Stafford, Leviatt had become convinced that the time for
action had come. Ferguson had left word with the manager that he was
to show the latter the rustler, and by that token Leviatt knew that the
stray-man had gathered evidence against him and was prepared to show
him to the manager in his true light. He, in turn, had left a message
with the manager for Ferguson. "We'll be ready for him," he had said.
He did not know whether Ferguson had received this message. It had
been a subtle thought; the words had been merely involuntary. By "We"
the manager had thought that he had meant the entire outfit was to be
held ready to apprehend the rustler. Leviatt had meant only himself
and Tucson.
And they were ready. Down in the blacksmith shop, while Ferguson had
ridden in and stepped into the manager's office, had Leviatt and Tucson
made their plan. When they had joined the group in front of the
bunkhouse and had placed themselves in positions where thirty or forty
feet of space yawned between them, they had been making the first
preparatory movement. The next would come when Ferguson appeared, to
carry out his intention of showing Stafford the rustler.
To none of the men of the outfit did Leviatt or Tucson reveal anything
of the nervousness that affected them. They listened to the rough
jest, they laughed when the others laughed, they dropped an occasional
word of encouragement. They even laughed at jokes in which there was
no visible point.
But they did not move from their places, nor did they neglect to keep a
sharp, alert eye out for the stray-man's appearance. And when they saw
him come out of the door of the office they neglected to joke or laugh,
but stood silent, with the thirty or forty feet of space between them,
their faces paling a little, their hearts laboring a little harder.
When Ferguson stepped out of the door of the office, Stafford followed.
The stray-man had said enough to arouse the manager's suspicions, and
there was something about the stray-man's movements which gave the
impression that he contemplated something more than merely pointing out
the thief. If warning of impending tragedy had ever shone in a man's
eyes, Stafford was certain that it had shone in the stray-man's during
the brief time that he had been in the office and when he had stepped
down from the door.
Stafford had received no invitation to follow the stray-man, but
impelled by the threat in the latter's eyes and by the hint of cold
resolution that gave promise of imminent tragedy, he stepped down also,
trailing the stray-man at a distance of twenty yards.
Ferguson did not hesitate once in his progress toward the bunkhouse,
except to cast a rapid, searching glance toward a group of two or three
men who lounged in the shade of the eaves of the building. Passing the
blacksmith shop he continued toward the bunkhouse, walking with a
steady stride, looking neither to the right or left.
Other men in the group, besides Leviatt and Tucson, had seen the
stray-man coming, and as he came nearer, the talk died and a sudden
silence fell. Ferguson came to a point within ten feet of the group of
men, who were ranged along the wall of the bunkhouse. Stafford had
come up rapidly, and he now stood near a corner of the bunkhouse in an
attitude of intense attention.
He was in a position where he could see the stray-man's face, and he
marveled at the sudden change that had come into it. The tragedy had
gone, and though the hard lines were still around his mouth, the
corners twitched a little, as though moved by a cold, feline humor.
There was a hint of mockery in his eyes--a chilling mockery, much like
that which the manager had seen in them months before when in Dry
Bottom the stray-man had told Leviatt that he thought he was a "plum
man."
But now Stafford stood breathless as he heard the stray-man's voice,
directed at Leviatt. "I reckon you think you've been some busy
lately," he drawled.
Meaningless words, as they appear here; meaningless to the group of men
and to the Two Diamond manager; yet to Leviatt they were burdened with
a dire significance. They told him that the stray-man was aware of his
duplicity; they meant perhaps that the stray-man knew of his dealings
with the cattle thieves whom he had visited yesterday in the hills near
the river. Whatever Leviatt thought, there was significance enough in
the words to bring a sneering smile to his face.
"Meanin'?" he questioned, his eyes glittering evilly.
Ferguson smiled, his eyes unwavering and narrowing a very little as
they met those of his questioner. Deliberately, as though the occasion
were one of unquestioned peace, he drew out some tobacco and several
strips of rice paper. Selecting one of the strips of paper, he
returned the others to a pocket and proceeded to roll a cigarette. His
movements were very deliberate. Stafford watched him, fascinated by
his coolness. In the tense silence no sound was heard except a subdued
rattle of pans in the bunkhouse--telling that the cook and his
assistant were at work.
The cigarette was made finally, and then the stray-man lighted it and
looked again at Leviatt, ignoring his question, asking another himself.
"You workin' down the creek yesterday?" he said.
"Up!" snapped Leviatt. The question had caught him off his guard or he
would have evaded it. He had told the lie out of pure perverseness.
Ferguson took a long pull at his cigarette. "Well, now," he returned,
"that's mighty peculiar. I'd have swore that I seen you an' Tucson
ridin' down the river yesterday. Thought I saw you in a basin in the
hills, talkin' to some men that I'd never seen before. I reckon I was
mistaken, but I'd have swore that I'd seen you."
Leviatt's face was colorless. Standing with his profile to Tucson, he
closed one eye furtively. This had been a signal that had previously
been agreed upon. Tucson caught it and turned slightly, letting one
hand fall to his right hip, immediately above the butt of his pistol.
"Hell!" sneered Leviatt, "you're seein' a heap of things since you've
been runnin' with Mary Radford!"
Ferguson laughed mockingly. "Mebbe I have," he returned. "Ridin' with
her sure makes a man open his eyes considerable."
Now he ignored Leviatt, speaking to Stafford. "When I was in here one
day, talkin' to you," he said quietly, "you told me about you an'
Leviatt goin' to Dry Bottom to hire a gunfighter. I reckon you told
that right?"
"I sure did," returned Stafford.
Ferguson took another pull at his cigarette--blowing the smoke slowly
skyward. And he drawled again, so that there was a distinct space
between the words.
"I reckon you didn't go around advertisin' that?" he asked.
Stafford shook his head negatively. "There ain't anyone around here
knowed anything about that but me an' you an' Leviatt," he returned.
Ferguson grinned coldly. "An' yet it's got out," he stated quietly.
"I reckon if no one but us three knowed about it, one of us has been
gassin'. I wouldn't think that you'd done any gassin'," he added,
speaking to Stafford.
The latter slowly shook his head.
Ferguson continued, his eyes cold and alert. "An' I reckon that I
ain't shot off about it--unless I've been dreamin'. Accordin' to that
it must have been Leviatt who told Mary Radford that I'd been hired to
kill her brother."
Leviatt sneered. "Suppose I did?" he returned, showing his teeth in a
savage snarl. "What are you goin' to do about it?"
"Nothin' now," drawled Ferguson. "I'm glad to hear that you ain't
denyin' it." He spoke to Stafford, without removing his gaze from the
range boss.
"Yesterday," he stated calmly, "I was ridin' down the river. I found a
basin among the hills. There was a cabin down there. Four men was
talkin' in front of it. There was twenty calves an' a dozen cows in a
corral. Two of the men was----"
Leviatt's right hand dropped suddenly to his holster. His pistol was
half out. Tucson's hand was also wrapped around the butt of his
pistol. But before the muzzle of either man's gun had cleared its
holster, there was a slight movement at the stray-man's sides and his
two guns glinted in the white sunlight. There followed two reports, so
rapidly that they blended. Smoke curled from the muzzles of the
stray-man's pistols.
Tucson sighed, placed both hands to his chest, and pitched forward
headlong, stretching his length in the sand. For an instant Leviatt
stood rigid, his left arm swinging helplessly by his side, broken by
the stray-man's bullet, an expression of surprise and fear in his eyes.
Then with a sudden, savage motion he dragged again at his gun.
One of the stray-man's guns crashed again, sharply. Leviatt's weapon
went off, its bullet throwing up sand in front of Ferguson. Leviatt's
eyes closed, his knees doubled under him, and he pitched forward at
Ferguson's feet. He was face down, his right arm outstretched, the
pistol still in his hand. A thin, blue wreath of smoke rose lazily
from its muzzle.
Ferguson bent over him, his weapons still in his hands. Leviatt's legs
stretched slowly and then stiffened. In the strained silence that had
followed the shooting Ferguson stood, looking gloomily down upon the
quiet form of his fallen adversary.
"I reckon you won't lie no more about me," he said dully.
Without a glance in the direction of the group of silent men, he
sheathed his weapons and strode toward the ranchhouse.