PETE IS TRICKED
Pete Wilson grumbled, for he was tiring of his monotonous vigil, and
almost hoped the H2 would take the house because of the excitement
incident to its re-capture. At first his assignment had pleased, but
as hour after hour passed with growing weariness, he chafed more and
more and his temper grew constantly shorter.
With the exception of smoking he had exhausted every means of passing
the time; he knew to a certainty how many bushes and large stones were
on the plateau, the ranges between him and distant objects, and other
things, and now he had to fall back on his pipe.
"Wish some son-of-a-thief would zephyr up an' start something," he
muttered. "If I stays in this fly-corral much longer I'll go loco. A
couple of years back we wouldn't have waited ten minutes in a case
like this--we'd 'a chased that crowd off th' range quick. What's
getting into us has got me picking out th' festive pea, all right."
He stopped at the east window and scrutinized the line as far as he
could see the dim, dusty, winding trail, hoping that some of the
outfit would come into sight. Then he slid the Sharps out of the
window and held it on an imaginary enemy, whom he pretended was going
to try to take the house. While he thought of caustic remarks, with
which to greet such a person, he saw the head of a horse push up into
view over the edge of the hill.
Sudden hope surged through him and shocked him to action. He cocked
the rifle, the metallic clicks sweet to his ears. Then he saw the
rider, and it was--Mary Meeker.
Astonishment and quick suspicion filled his mind and he held the
weapon ready to use on her escort, should she have one. Her horse
reared and plunged and, deciding that she was alone, and ashamed to be
covering a woman, he slid the gun back into the room, leaning it
against the wall close at his hand, not losing sight of the rider for
a moment.
"Now, what th' devil is she doing up here, anyhow?" he puzzled, and
then a grin flickered across his face as the possible solution came to
him. "Mebby she wants Hopalong," he muttered, and added quickly,
"Purty as blazes, too!" And she did make a pretty picture even to his
scoffing and woman-hating mind.
She was having trouble with her mount, due to the spurring it was
getting on the side farther from the watcher. It reared and plunged,
bucking sideways, up-and-down and fence-cornered, zig-zagging over the
ground forward and back, and then began to pitch "stiff-legged."
Pete's eyes glowed with the appreciation of a master rider and he was
filled with admiration, which soon became enthusiastic, over her
saddle-ease and cool mastery. She seemed to be a part of the horse.
"She'd 'a been gone long ago if she was fool enough to sit one of them
side saddle contraptions," he mused. "A-straddle is th' only--_Good!_
All right! Yo're a stayer!" he exclaimed as she stepped from one
stirrup and stood up in the other when the animal reared up on its
hind legs.
He glanced out of the other windows of the house and fell to watching
her again, his face darkening as he saw that she appeared to be
tiring, while her mount grew steadily worse. Then she "touched
leather," and again and again. Her foot slipped from the stirrup, but
found it again, while she frantically clung to the saddle horn.
"Four-legged devil!" Pete exclaimed. "Wish _I_ was on you, you ornery
dog! Hey! Don't you bite like that! Keep yore teeth away from that leg
or I'll blow yore d----d head off!" he cried wrathfully as the animal
bit viciously several times at the stirrup leather. "I'll whale th'
stuffin' outen you, you wall-eyed clay-bank! Yo're too bronc for _her_
to ride, all right."
Then, during another and more vicious fit of stiff-legged pitching the
rider held to the saddle horn with both hands, while her foot, again
out of the stirrup, sought for it in vain. She was rapidly losing her
grip on the saddle and suddenly she was thrown off, a cry reaching
Pete's ears. The victorious animal kicked several times and shook its
head vigorously in celebration of its freedom and then buck-jumped
across the plateau and out of sight down the hill, Pete strongly
tempted to stop its exuberance with a bullet.
Pete glanced at the figure huddled in the dust and then, swearing
savagely and fearing the worst, threw down the bar and jerked open the
door and ran as rapidly as his awkward legs would take him to see what
he could do for her, his hand still grasping his rifle. As he knelt
beside her he remembered that he had been told not to leave the house
under any circumstances and he glanced over his shoulder, and just in
time to see a chap-covered leg disappear through the doorway. His
heart sank as the crash of the bar falling into place told him that he
had been unworthy of the trust his best friend had reposed in him. It
was plain enough, now, that he had been fooled, to understand it all
and to know that as he left the house one or more H2 punchers had
sprinted for it from the other side of the plateau.
Red fury filled him in an instant and tearing the revolver from the
girl's belt he threw it away and then, grasping her with both hands,
he raised her up as though she weighed nothing and threw her over his
shoulder, sprinting for the protection of the hillside, which he
reached in a few bounds. Throwing her down as he would throw a bag of
flour he snarled at her as she arose and brushed her clothes. Years
ago in Pete's life a woman had outraged his love and trust and sent
him through a very hell of sorrow; and since then he had had no love
for the sex--only a bitter, scathing cynicism, which now found its
outlet in words.
"Yo're a nice one, you are!" he yelled. "You've done yore part! Yo're
all alike, every d----d one of you--Judas wasn't no man, not by a
d----d sight! You know a man won't stand by an' see you hurt without
trying to help you--an' you play it against him!"
She was about to retort, but smiled instead and went on with her
dusting.
"Tickled, hey! Well, you watch an' see what _we_ do to coyotes! You'll
see what happens to line-thieves down here!"
She looked up quickly and suspected that instead of averting a fight
she had precipitated one. Both Hopalong and her father were in as much
danger now as if she had taken no part in the trouble.
Pete emptied his revolver into the air as rapidly as he could work the
hammer and hurriedly reloaded it, all the time watching his prisoner
and the top of the hill. Three quick reports, muffled by distance,
replied from Long Hill and he turned to her.
"Now why don't you laugh?" he gritted savagely. He caught sight of her
horse grazing calmly further down the hill and his Sharps leaped to
his shoulder and crashed. The animal stiffened, erect for a moment,
and then sank slowly back on its quivering haunches and dropped.
"_You_ won't pitch no more, d--n you!" he growled, reloading.
Her eyes snapped with anger and she caught at her holster. "You
coward! You coward!" she cried, stamping her foot. "To kill that
horse, an' steal my gun--afraid of a woman!" she taunted. "Coward!"
"I'll pull a snake's fangs rather than get bit by one, when I can't
shoot 'em!" he retorted, stung by her words. "You'll see how big a
coward I am purty soon--an' you'll stay right here an' see it, too!"
"_I_ won't run away," she replied, sitting down and tucking her feet
under her skirts. "_I'm_ not afraid of a coward!"
Another shot rang out just over the top of Stepping Stone Hill and he
replied to it. Far to the west a faint report was heard and Pete knew
that Skinny was roweling the lathered sides of his straining horse.
Yet another sounded flatly from the direction of the dam, the hills
multiplying it into a distant fusillade.
"Hear 'em!" he demanded, fierce joy ringing in his voice. "Hear 'em!
You've kicked th' dynamite, all right--you'll smell th' smoke of yore
little squib clean down to yore ranch house!"
"That's grand--yo're doing it fine," she laughed, strangling the fear
which crept slowly through her. "Go on--it's grand!"
"It'll be a whole lot grander when th' boys get here an' find out
what's happened," he promised. "There'll be some funerals start out
from what's left of yore ranch house purty soon."
"Ki-i-i-e-e-p! Ki-ip ki-ip!" came the hair-raising yell from the top
of Stepping Stone Hill, and Pete withheld the rest of his remarks to
reply to it in kind. Suddenly Red Connors, his quirt rising and
falling, bounded over the top of the hill and shot down the other side
at full speed. Close behind him came Billy Williams, who rode as
recklessly until his horse stepped into a hole and went down, throwing
him forward like a shot out of a catapult. He rolled down the hill
some distance before he could check his impetus and then, scrambling
to his feet, drew his Colt and put his broken-legged mount out of its
misery before hobbling on again.
Red slid to a stand and leaped to the ground, his eyes on the woman,
but his first thought was for the house. "What's th' matter? Why ain't
you in that shack? Didn't Hopalong tell you to hold it?" he demanded.
Turning to Mary Meeker he frowned. "What are you doing up here? Don't
you know this ain't no place for you to-day?"
Pete grasped his shoulder and swung him around so sharply that he
nearly lost his balance, crying: "Don't talk to her, she's a d----d
snake!"
Red's hand moved towards his holster and then stopped, for it was a
friend who spoke. "What do you mean, d--n you? Who's a snake? What's
wrong here, anyhow?"
Billy limped up and stood amazed at the strange scene, for besides the
presence of the woman, his friends were quarrelling and he had never
seen that before. Seeing Mary look at him he flushed and sneaked off
his sombrero, ashamed because he had forgotten it.
Pete swiftly related all that had occurred, and ended with another
curse flung at his prisoner, who looked him over with a keen, critical
glance and then smiled contemptuously.
"That's a fine note!" Red cried, his sombrero also coming off. He
looked at Mary and saw no fear in her face, no sign of any weakness,
but rather a grimness in the firmness of her lips and a battling light
in her eyes, which gained her immunity from his tongue, for he admired
grit. "Here, you, stop that cussing! You can't cuss no woman while I'm
around!" he cried hotly. "Hopalong'll break you wide open if he hears
you. Cussing won't do no good; what we want is thinking, an'
fighting!" Catching sight of Billy, who looked self-conscious and a
little uncomfortable, he cried: "An' what's th' matter with you?"
Billy jerked his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the dead
horse and Red, following the motion, knew. "By th' Lord, you got off
easy! Pete, you watch yore prisoner; keep her out of danger, an'
there'll be lots of it purty soon. We'll get th' house for you."
"Send up to Cowan's saloon; he had some dynamite, an' if we can get
any we can blow them sneaks off th' face of th' earth," Pete
exclaimed, his anger and shame urging him against his better nature.
"Go ahead. I'll take th' chances using th' stuff--I lost th' house."
The pathetic note of self-condemnation in his last words stopped Red's
reprimand and he said, instead: "We'll talk about that later. But
don't you lose no sleep--they can't hold it, dynamite or no dynamite.
We'll have it before sundown."
Dynamite! Mary caught her breath and sudden fear gripped her heart.
Dynamite! And two men were in the house, Doc Riley and Jack Curtis,
men who would not be there if she had not made it possible for
them--she was responsible.
"Here comes Skinny!" cried Billy, waving his arm.
"An' here's Hopalong!" joyously cried Pete, elated, for he pinned his
faith in his line-foreman's ability to get out of any kind of a hole,
no matter how deep and wide. "Now things 'll happen! We're going to
get busy _now_, all right!"
The two arrived at the same instant and both asked the same question.
Then Hopalong saw Mary and he was at her side in a trice.
"Hullo! What are _you_ doing up here?" he cried in astonishment.
"I'm a prisoner--of _that_!" she replied, pointing at Pete.
Hopalong wheeled. "What! What have you been doing to her? Why ain't
you in th' house, where you belongs?"
Pete told him, briefly, and he turned to the prisoner, a smile of
admiration struggling to get through his frown. She looked at him
bravely, for now was the crisis, which she had feared, and welcomed.
"By th' Lord!" he cried, softly. "Yo're a thoroughbred, a fighter from
start to finish. But you shouldn't come up here to-day; there's no
telling, sometimes, where bullets go after they start." Turning, he
said, "Pete, you chump, stay on this side of th' hill an' watch th'
house. Billy, lay so you can watch th' door. Red, come with me. An' if
anybody gets a shot at them range stealers, shoot to kill. Understand?
Shoot to kill--it's time."
"Dynamite?" queried Pete, hopefully. "I'll use it. Cowan--"
Hopalong stared. "Dynamite! Dynamite! We ain't fighting 'em that way,
even if they are coyotes. You go an' do what I told you."
"Yes, but--"
"Shut up!" snapped Hopalong. "I know how you feel _now_, but you'll
think different to-morrow."
"Let's swap th' girl for th' house," suggested Skinny, grinning. "It's
a shore cinch," he added, winking at Billy, who laughed.
Hopalong wheeled to retort, caught Skinny's eye closing, and laughed
instead. "I reckon that would work all right, Skinny. It'd be a good
joke on 'em to take th' house back with th' same card they got it by.
But this ain't no time for joking. Pete, you better stay here an'
watch th' window on this side; Billy, take th' window on th' south
side. Skinny can go around west an' Red'll take th' door. They won't
be so joyous after they get what's coming their way. This ain't no
picnic; shoot to kill. We've been peaceful too blamed long!"
"That's th' way to talk!" cried Pete. "If we'd acted that way from th'
very first day they crossed our line we wouldn't be fighting to
capture our own line house! You know how to handle 'em all right!"
"Pete, how much water is in there?" Hopalong asked.
"'Bout a hatful--nobody brought me any this morning, th' lazy cusses."
"All right; they won't hold it for long, then. Take yore places as I
said, fellers, an' get busy," he replied, and then turned to Mary.
"Where's yore father? Is _he_ in that house?"
"I don't know--an' I wouldn't tell if I did!"
"Say, yo're a regular hummer! Th' more you talk th' better I like
you," he laughed, admiringly. "You've shore stampeded me worse than
ever--I'm so loco I can't wait much longer--when are you going to
marry me? Of course you know that you've got to someday."
"Indeed I have _not_!" she retorted, her face crimson. "If you wait
for me to marry you you will die of old age! An' I'm shore somebody's
listening."
"Then _I'll_ marry _you_--of course, that's what I meant."
"Indeed you _won't!_"
"Then th' minister will. After this line fighting is over I won't
wait. I'll just rope you an' drive you down to Perry's Bend to th'
hobbling man, if you won't go any other way. We'll come back a team.
Oh, I mean just what I say," and she knew that he did, and she was
glad at heart that he thought none the less of her for the trick she
had played on Pete. He seemed to take everything as a matter of
course, and as a matter of course was going to re-take the house.
"You just _dare_ try it! Just _dare!_" she cried, hotly.
"Now you have gone an' done it, for I never take a dare, _never_," he
laughed. "It's us for th' sky pilot, an' then th' same range for life.
Yo're shore purty, an' that fighting spunk doubles it. You can begin
to practise calling yourself Mrs. Hopalong Cassidy, of th' Bar-20."
Pete fired, swore, and turned his head. "How th' devil can I hit a
house with all that fool talk!" and the two, suddenly realizing that
Pete had been ordered to remain close by, looked foolish, and both
laughed.
"It gets on my nerves," Pete growled, and then: "Here comes Johnny
like a greased coyote."
They looked and saw Johnny tearing down Stepping Stone Hill as if he
were afraid that the fighting would be over before he could take a
hand in it. When he came within hailing distance he stood up in his
stirrups, shouting, "What's up?" and then, seeing Pete, understood.
Leaping from the saddle he jerked his rifle out of the sheath and ran
to him, jeering. "Oh, you Pete! Oh you d----d fool!"
"Hey, Johnny! How's things east?" Hopalong demanded.
Johnny stopped and hastily recounted how he and Red had driven back
the herd, adding: "Her dad is out there now looking at his dead
cows--I saw him when I came back from East Arroyo. An' I saw them
three punchers ride over that ridge down south; and they shore made
good time. Say, how did they get Pete out?" he asked eagerly.
"I'll tell you that later--Pete, you go an' tell Red to come here, an'
take his place. We can't swap Mary for th' house, but we can swap her
dad! Mary, you better go home--this won't be no place for you in a
little while. Where's yore cayuse?" he asked, looking around.
"It's down there--he shot it," she replied, nodding at Pete.
"Shot it? Lord, but he must 'a been mad! Well, you can get
square--Pete, where's yore cayuse?"
"How th' devil do _I_ know!" Pete blazed, indignantly. "_I_ wasn't
keeping track of no cayuse after they got th' house!"
"It's down there on th' hill--see it?" volunteered Johnny. "Shall I
get it?" he asked, grinning at the disgruntled Pete.
"Yes; an' strip th' fixings off her cayuse while yo're about
it--lively."
Johnny vaulted into his saddle and loped down the hill, shortly
returning with Mary's saddle and bridle in front of him and Pete's
horse at the end of his rope. Hopalong quickly removed Pete's saddle
and put the other in its place, Pete eloquent in his silence, and
Johnny manifestly pleased by the proceedings.
"Now you can ride," Hopalong smiled, helping her into the saddle.
"Pete don't care at all--he ain't saying a word," whereat Pete said a
word, several of them in fact, under his breath and vowed that he
would kill the men in the house to get square.
"I'll send it back as soon as I can," she promised, and then, when
Hopalong leaned closer and whispered something to her, she flushed and
spurred the animal, leaving him standing in a cloud of dust, a smile
on his face.
Johnny, grinning until his face threatened to be ruptured, wheeled on
Pete. "Yo're a lucky fool, even if you did go an' lose th' house for
us--wish she'd ride _my_ cayuse!"
Pete replied in keeping with his feelings now that there was no woman
present, and walked away to change places with Red, who soon came up.
Then the three mounted and cantered east to find the H2 foreman,
Johnny mauling "Whiskey Bill" in his exuberance. Suddenly he turned in
his saddle and slapped his thigh: "I'll bet four cents to a tooth
brush that she's telling her dad to get scarce. She heard what you
said, Hoppy!"
"Right! Come on!" exclaimed Hopalong, spurring into a gallop, his
companions racing behind, spurring and quirting to catch him.
"Say, Red, she's a straight flush," Johnny shouted to his companion.
"Can't be beat--if she turns Hoppy down I'm next in th' line-up!"
"You don't want no wife--you wants a nurse!" Red retorted.