THE FUGITIVE
After the departure of Barney Owen and Mary Bransford, the Double A
ranchhouse was as silent as any house, supposed to be occupied by a
dead man, could be.
But after a few minutes, if one had looked over the top of the
partition from which Owen had hanged Alva Dale, one might have seen
Dale move a little. One might have been frightened, but if one had
stayed there, it would have been to see Dale move again.
The first time he moved he had merely placed his feet upon the floor,
to rest himself. The second movement resulted in him raising his
smashed hands and lifting the noose from his neck.
He threw it viciously from him after removing it, so that it flew over
the top of the partition and swished sinuously upon the floor of the
kitchen.
For Barney Owen had not done a good job in hanging Dale. For when
Barney had run across the kitchen with the rope, to tie it to the
fastenings of the door, it had slacked a little, enough to permit
Dale's toes to touch the floor of the pantry.
Feeling the slack, Dale had taken advantage of it, throwing his head
forward a little, to keep the rope taut while Owen fastened it. All
that had been involuntary with Dale.
For, at that time Dale had had no thought of trying to fool Owen--he
had merely taken what chance had given him. And when the first shock
of the thing was over he had begun his attempts to reach the top of the
partition in order to slacken the rope enough to get it over his
head--for at that time he did not know that already the rope was slack
enough.
It was not until after his hands had been smashed and he had dropped to
the floor again, that he realized that he might have thrown the rope
off at once.
Then it was too late for him to do anything, for he felt Owen above
him, at the top of the partition, and he thought Owen had a gun. So he
feigned strangulation, and Owen had been deceived.
And when Owen had entered the pantry, Dale still continued to feign
strangulation, letting his body sag, and causing a real pressure on his
neck. He dared not open his eyes to see if Owen had a weapon, for then
the little man, having a gun, would have quickly finished the work
that, seemingly, the rope had begun.
Dale might have drawn his own gun, taking a long chance of hitting
Owen, but he was at a great disadvantage because of the condition of
his hands, and he decided not to.
Dale heard Owen and Mary go out; he heard the clatter of hoofs as they
rode away. Then he emerged from the pantry, and through a window
watched the two as they rode down the slope of the basin.
Then Dale yielded to the bitter disappointment that oppressed him, and
cursed profanely, going from room to room and vengefully kicking things
out of his way while bandaging his smashed hands.
In the parlor he overturned the lounge and almost kicked it to pieces
searching for the money Mary had told him was concealed there.
"The damned hussy!" he raged, when he realized that the money was not
in the lounge.
He went out, got on his horse, and rode across the level back of the
house, and up the slope leading to the mesa, where he had seen
Sanderson riding earlier in the day.
For an hour he rode, warily, for he did not want to come upon Sanderson
unawares--if his men had not intercepted his enemy; and then reaching
the edge of a section of hilly country, he halted and sat motionless in
the saddle.
For, from some distance ahead of him he heard the reports of firearms,
and over him, at the sound, swept a curious reluctance to go any
farther in that direction.
For it seemed to him there was something forbidding in the sound; it
was as though the sounds carried to him on the slight breeze were
burdened with an evil portent; that they carried a threat and a warning.
He sat long there, undecided, vacillating. Then he shuddered, wheeled
his horse, and sent him scampering over the back trail.
He rode to the Bar D. His men--the regular punchers--were working far
down in the basin, and there was no one in the house.
He sat for hours alone in his office, waiting for news of the men he
had sent after Sanderson; and as the interval of their absence grew
longer the dark forebodings that had assailed him when within hearing
distance of the firing seized him again--grew more depressing, and he
sat, gripping the arms of his chair, a clammy perspiration stealing
over him.
He shook off the feeling at last, and stood up, scowling.
"That's what a man gets for givin' up to a damn fool notion like that,"
he said, thinking of the fear that had seized him while listening to
the shooting. "Once a man lets on he's afraid, the thing keeps a
workin' on him till he's certain sure he's a coward. Them boys didn't
need me, anyway--they'll get Sanderson."
So he justified his lack of courage, and spent some hours reading. But
at last the strain grew too great, and as the dusk came on he began to
have thoughts of Dal Colton. Ben Nyland must have reached home by this
time. Had Colton succeeded?
He thought of riding to Nyland's ranch, but he gave up that idea when
he reasoned that perhaps Colton had failed, and in that case Nyland
wouldn't be the most gentle person in the world to face on his own
property.
If Colton had succeeded he would find him, in Okar. So he mounted his
horse and rode to Okar.
The town seemed to be deserted when he dismounted in front of the City
Hotel. He did not go inside the building, merely looking in through
one of the windows, and seeing a few men in there, playing cards in a
listless manner. He did not see Colton.
He looked into several other windows. Colton was nowhere to be seen.
In several places Dale inquired about him. No one had seen Colton that
day.
No one said anything to Dale about what had happened. Perhaps they
thought he knew. At any rate, Dale heard no word of what had
transpired during his absence. Men spoke to him, or nodded--and looked
away, to look at him when his back was turned.
All this had its effect on Dale. He noted the restraint, he felt the
atmosphere of strangeness. But he blamed it all on the queer
premonition that had taken possession of his senses. It was not Okar
that looked strange, nor the men, it was himself.
He went to the bank building and entered the rear door, clumping
heavily up the stairs, for he felt a heavy depression. When he opened
the door at the top of the stairs night had come. A kerosene lamp on a
table in the room blinded him for an instant, and he stood, blinking at
it.
When his eyes grew accustomed to the glare he saw Peggy Nyland sitting
up in bed, looking at him.
She did not say anything, but continued to look at him. There was
wonder in her eyes, and Dale saw it. It was wonder over Dale's
visit--over his coming to Okar. Ben must have missed him, for Dale was
alive! Dale could not have heard what had happened.
"You're better, eh?" said Dale.
She merely nodded her reply, and watched Dale as he crossed the room.
Reaching a door that led into another room, Dale turned.
"Where's Maison?"
Peggy pointed at the door on whose threshold Dale stood.
Dale entered. What he saw in the room caused him to come out again,
his face ashen.
"What's happened?" he demanded hoarsely, stepping to the side of the
bed and looking down at Peggy.
Peggy told him. The man's face grew gray with the great fear that
clutched him, and he stepped back; then came forward again, looking
keenly at the girl as though he doubted her.
"Nyland killed him--choked him to death?" he said.
Peggy nodded silently. The cringing fear showing in the man's eyes
appalled her. She hated him, and he had done this thing to her, but
she did not want the stigma of another killing on her brother's name.
"Look here, Dale!" she said. "You'd better get out of here--and out of
the country! Okar is all stirred up over what you have done. Sheriff
Warde was in Okar and had a talk with Judge Graney. Warde knows who
killed those men at Devil's Hole, and he is going to hang them. You
are one of them; but you won't hang if Ben catches you. And he is
looking for you! You'd better go--and go fast!"
For an instant Dale stood, looking at Peggy, searching her face and
probing her eyes for signs that she was lying to him. He saw no such
signs. Turning swiftly, he ran down the stairs, out into the street,
and mounting, with his horse already running, he fled toward the basin
and the Bar D.
He had yielded entirely to the presentiment of evil that had tortured
him all day.
All his schemes and plots for the stealing of the Double A and Nyland's
ranch were forgotten in the frenzy to escape that had taken possession
of him, and he spurred his horse to its best efforts as he ran--away
from Okar; as he fled from the vengeance of those forces which his
evilness had aroused.