Rimrock Trail Page 5

  CHAPTER V

  IN THE BED OF THE CREEK

  The old bridge, utilized only by wheels with metal tires these days, andby riders, opened a short-cut to the road leading to the Three Star, away hardly to be distinguished from the plain. Sandy was minded to getback to the ranch as soon as possible with his winnings. Five thousandfor Molly, five thousand for the Three Star, that was the agreement, thecustom, and he knew the girl's breed well enough to have no hesitationin making the split as he would with a man. The next thing to do was topick out a school for her. There Sandy was at a loss. He mulled it overas he rode, his outer senses playing sentinels to his consciousness.

  He had deliberately avoided trouble for reasons he considered quitesufficient, but annoyance pricked him that he had been forced to slideout the back way from Plimsoll's, for all the odds against him. If ithad been his own money--a sudden flash of future responsibilities asMolly Casey's guardian illumined his thought--if the luck-piece had notbeen hers, the play for her future welfare, he would have set his ownmarvelous coordination against Butch and the others in a shooting match,as he had done other times, in other places. Sam, he knew, waswondering a little at their strategic retreat.

  But the old days were going, law and order were beginning to supersedethe old methods of every man to his own judgment and action. Herefordhad a sheriff who was not above suspicion, but the majority of thepeople had little use for him and this term of office would be his last.

  Sandy could not quite gauge Plimsoll's actions in tamely paying over thewinnings and he looked and listened, noting every movement of Prontomoving free-muscled beneath him, for some sign of alarm--perhaps arifle-shot out of the mesquite. They were not the best of targets, Samand he, riding fast in the thick dusk under the stars. The road wasalmost invisible, the plain unsubstantial, though the far-off mountainranges showed plainly cut, with a curious trick of seeming always toshift back as the observer advanced. Little winds blew in their faces,cool and sweet from the desert, charged with spice of sage.

  The ponies struck the loosened planks of the bridge clop-clop, springingforward into a gallop as their riders touched heels to flanks. The pintowas the quicker to get into his stride. Just past the center of thebridge Sam saw Sandy's mount jump like a startled cat into the air. Hesaw Sandy pliant in his seat; marked against the starry sky. Then came aspurt of red flame from the far bank--to the right--another--andanother--from the left. A bullet hummed by him and his own horse slidstiff-legged, plowing the planks, hind feet flat from hoof-points tofetlocks as the pony whirled away from the yawning gap in the bridge,where boards had been pried away in the preparation, of the ambush.

  Helpless for the moment until he got his bearings and his pony gainedsolid footing, Sam automatically whipped out his gun, cursing as he sawSandy slide from the saddle, clutch at the rim of the gap, drop down tothe bed of the creek, while Pronto, frantic at the loss of his master,leaped the opening and fled with clatter of hoof and swinging stirrupinto the desert.

  Sam, wild with rage at the thought of Sandy shot, scrambling in bloodysand below him, flung himself from the roan as more bullets whined,whupping into the planks. One seared his upper arm, another struck thesaddle tree as he vaulted off, slapping the roan on the flanks, yellingat it as it gathered, leaped the gap and followed Pronto.

  "You damned, cowardly, murderin' pack of lousy coyotes!" swore Sammechanically, as he knelt on the edge of the gap and tried to pierce theblackness, listening fearfully for a groan. He had not fired back. Therewas nothing to fire at but clumps of blurred growth. The shots had beentoo sudden, the shying of the horses too confusing for location.

  He kneeled over the rim of the last plank, turned, caught with hishands, revolver thrust back into its holster, swung, dropped. A handclosed about his ankle, pulled him down sprawling on the soft sand.

  "I'm O. K.," whispered Sandy, and Sam's heart leaped. "Only plugged therim of my hat. I faked a fall to fool 'em. Snake erlong down the crickbed. Here's where we git even." Sam knew that ring in his partner'svoice, low though it was, and his blood tingled. The high crumbly banksof the creek, gouged out by winter rains and cloud-bursts, were set withbrush. Immediately above the bridge were the stripped trunks ofcottonwoods, stranded in a flood. Peering through the boughs, they sawstooping figures running along the bank. A man called from the lowerside of the bridge, a shot was fired harmlessly. The hunters in viewraced back.

  "Think they saw us," whispered Sandy. "They'll hear from us, rightsoon." He led the way back, crossing to the town side beneath thebridge, keeping half-way up the bank, close under the stringers of thebridge, crawling between bushes on his belly, Sam with him. Now theycould see no gunmen but occasionally they caught a whisper, the slightsound of moving brush.

  There was only a trickle of water in the bed of the creek. Here andthere were small bars of bleached shingle and larger boulders. Sandyfound a stone imbedded in the bank, loosened it, squatted on hishaunches and passed it to Sam, taking a gun in each hand.

  "Chuck it into that sunflower patch," he said with his mouth close toSam's ear. "Then fire at the flashes." Sam pitched the stone through thedarkness. It fell with a rustle, chinked against a rock. Instantlythere came a fusillade from the opposite bank, four streaks of fire, thebullets cutting through the dried stalks, the marksmen evidently huntingin couples.

  Sandy, crouching, pulled triggers and the shots rattled out as if firedfrom an automatic. Beside him, Sam's gun barked. Each fired three times,Sandy shooting two-handed, flinging six bullets with instinctive aimwhile the bed of the creek echoed to the roar of the guns and the airhung heavy with the reek of exploded gases. Then they rushed for the topof the bank, wriggling behind the cover of bushes, lying prone for thenext chance.

  One yell and a stream of curses came from across the arroyo. Twoindistinct figures bent above a third, lifted it, hurrying back toward aclump of willows. The fourth man trailed the others, his oathssmothered, running beside the two bearers, his hand held curiously infront of him, dimly seen.

  "They're through. That's enough," said Sandy. "We ain't killers."

  "Got two of 'em," said Sam. "Good shootin', Sandy! I reckon I missedclean. I fired to the left."

  "The man who's down is Butch," said Sandy. "I'd know his figger in acoal shaft. I've a hunch the other was Hahn. Hit him somewheres in thehand; spile his dealin' fo' a while. Let's git out of this. They'vequit."

  "Wonder if Plimsoll was with 'em. How about the hawsses? Can you whistlePronto back?"

  "Reckon so."

  They walked toward the bridge and crossed it, passing the gap on theside timbers. Plimsoll's men had departed with their casualties. Sandywhistled shrilly through his teeth. After a minute he repeated the call.

  "Sure hate to hoof it to the ranch," said Sam. "Mebbe the shotsstampeded 'em. Better not try to borrow hawsses in town, I figger."

  "No. Pronto ain't fur. Yore roan'll stick with him. That pinto of mineis half human. I've sent him ahead before. Ef I'd yelled 'Home' he'dhave gone. Shots w'udn't have scared him. Made him stand by--likeMolly."

  "Got yore money safe?"

  "Yep."

  There came a sound of pounding hoofs. Then that of others, coming fromthe town.

  "Better load up, Sam," said Sandy grimly, "we ain't out of this yet.That'll be Jim Plimsoll's brother-in-law, likely."

  "Here come our ponies."

  As yet they could see nothing advancing, but a horse whinnied from theplain lying between them and the Three Star road.

  "Pronto," said Sandy, shoving cartridges into his guns.

  A body of mounted men had come out from town and ridden fast upon thebridge. The foremost stopped with an exclamation at the missing boards.All wheeled in some confusion and slid their horses down into thearroyo to scramble up the bank again and spur for Sam and Sandy just asthe pinto and the roan, curveted up to their masters. The two cowmenleaped for their seats, Sandy temporarily sheathing one gun. They facedthe townsmen who formed a half-circle about them.

&n
bsp; "You, Sandy Bourke an' Sam Manning, stick up yore hands!"

  "You got good eyesight," returned Sandy. "What's the idee? Ef you shoot,don't miss, I'm holdin' tol'able close ter-night."

  His tone was almost good-humored, tolerant, full of confidence.

  "You was shootin' in town limits. May have killed some one. Ag'in' thelaw to shoot inside the Herefo'd line. I'm goin' to take you in."

  "You air?" Sandy's drawl was charged with mockery. "How about theHerefo'd men who stahted the fireworks? Ef you want our guns, Sheriff,come an' take 'em. First come, first served."

  There was no forward movement. A man swore as his horse began to dance.

  "You go back an' tell Jim Plimsoll to do his own dirty wo'k, if he's gotany guts left fo' tryin'. Me, I'm goin' home."

  The sheriff and his hastily gathered band of irregular deputies, workingin the interests of Plimsoll, knew, with sufficient intimacy to endowthem with caution, the general record of Sandy Bourke and Soda-WaterSam. None of them wanted to risk a shot--and miss. Sandy would not. Evena fatal wound might not prevent him taking toll. Sam was almost asdangerous. They were politicians rather than fighting men, every one ofthem. And they were tolerably certain that Plimsoll had ambushed the twofrom the Three Star. His methods were akin to their own. The sheriffblustered.

  "I ain't through with you yit, Sandy Bourke. I know where to find you."

  "You-all are goin' to have a mighty hard time findin' yo'se'f aftehelection, Sheriff, as it is. The cowmen ain't crazy about you. Theymight take a notion to escort you out of the county limits."

  "You're inside the town line. I----"

  "I won't be in two minutes. Git out of our road," said Sandy, his voicefreezing in sudden contempt. He roweled Pronto and, with Sam even in thejump, they galloped through the half-ring without opposition. Horseswere neck-reined aside to let them pass. The wind sang by them as theytangented off from the road. A shot or two announced the attempt of someto save their own faces, but no bullets came near the pair. Thefusillade was sheer bravado.

  Pronto and the roan went at full speed, bellies low to the plain thatstreamed past, the manes whipping the hands of their riders, springingon sinews of whalebone through soapweed and mesquite, spurning the soilwith drumming hoofs, night-seeing, danger-dodging, jumping the littlegullies, reveling in the rush. Sandy and Sam sat slightly forward,loose-seated, thigh-muscles and knees feeling the withers rather thanpressing them, balancing their own limber bodies to every movement ofthe flying ponies.

  A late moon climbed out of the east and scudded up the sky, silveringthe distant peaks. For almost a mile they rode at top speed, then theysettled down to a lope that ate up the miles--a walk at the end ofthree--then lope and walk again, until the giant cottonwoods of theThree Star rose from the plain, leaves shimmering in the moonlight, theranch buildings blocked in purple pin-pointed with orange--thepin-points enlarging, resolving into two lighted windows as they passedshack and barn and rode into the home corral at last, to unsaddle, wipedown the horses and dismiss them for the time with a smack on theirlathery flanks, knowing they would be too wise to overdrink at thetrough, promising them grain later.

  Mormon tiptoed heavily out on the creaking porch with a husky, "Hush!"

  "What fo'?"

  "Molly's asleep. 'Sisted on waitin' up for you."

  "Well, we're here, ain't we?" demanded Sam. "Me, I got a scrape in myarm an' some son of a wolf spiled my saddle. Sandy, he sorter evened upfo' it."

  "Bleedin'?" asked Mormon.

  "Nope. Tied my bandanner round it. Cold air fixed it. Shucks, it ain'tnuthin'! Sandy's got a green kale plaster fo' it. Come to think of it, Igot ninety bucks myse'f."

  "You won?"

  "Did we win? Wait till we show you."

  Molly met them as they went in, her eyes wide open, all sleep banished.

  "Was it a luck-piece?" she demanded.

  Sandy produced the package of bills, divided it, shoved over part.

  "Your half," he said. "Five thousand bucks. Bu'sted the bank. An' here'sthe 'riginal bet." He showed the gold eagle, put it into her palm.

  "Served me, now you take it," he said. "I'll git you a chain fo' it.It's sure a mascot--same as you are--the Mascot of the Three Star."

  She looked up, her eyes, cloudy with wonder at the sight of the money,shining at her new title. They rested on Sam's arm, bandaged with thebandanna.

  "There's been shootin'," she said. "You're hit. Oh!"

  "More of a miss than a hit," replied Sam.

  Molly turned to Sandy. Anxiety, affection, something stronger thatstirred him deeply, showed now in her gaze.

  "_You_ hurt?"

  "Didn't hardly muss a ha'r of my head. Jest a li'l' excitement."

  "Tell me all about it."

  Sandy gave her a condensed and somewhat expurgated account to which shelistened with her face aglow.

  "I wisht I'd been there to see it," she said as he finished.

  "It warn't jest the time nor place fo' a young lady," said Sandy. "Mainp'int is we got the money for yo' eddication, like we planned."

  The light faded from her face.

  "Air you so dead set for me to go away?" she asked.

  "See here, Molly." Sandy leaned forward in his chair, talking earnestly."You've got the makin' of a mighty fine woman in you. An' paht of you isyore dad an' paht yore maw. Sabe? They handed you on down an', if youmake the most of yo'se'f, you make the most of them. Me, I've allus beentrubbled with the saddle-itch an' I've wanted the out-of-doors. A chapwrit a poem that hits me once. It stahts in,

  "I want free life an' I want free air, An' I sigh fo' the canter afteh the cattle, The crack of whips like shots in battle; The melly of horns an' hoofs an' heads That wars an' wrangles an' scatters an' spreads, The green beneath an' the blue above, An' dash an' danger an' life....

  "Somethin' like that. I mayn't have got it jest right, but that's _me_.The chap that wrote that might have writ pahts of it jest fo' me. Hesure knew what he was writin' erbout. It's called _In Texas, Down by theRio Grande_. I've been there. Arizony ain't much differunt."

  "It's called _Lasca_," put in Sam. "I seen it in the movies. Had thepo'try strung all through it. It was a love story. This Lasca, she----"

  Mormon put a heavy foot over Sam's and he subsided.

  "So you see I lost out on a heap," said Sandy. "An' I'm a man. I can giterlong with less. But fo' a gel, learnin's a grand thing. An' there'sthe big cities, an' theaters, fine clothes an' fine manners. Like livin'in another world."

  "Where they wear suits like Sam's spiketail," said Mormon. "I mind mewhen I was to Chicago with a train of steers one time, the tallbuildin's was higher than canyon cliffs. On'y full breath I drawed wasdown on the lake front where they was a free picter show in a museum.Reg'lar storm there was out on the lake; big waves. Wind like to curl mytongue back down my throat an' choke me."

  "Who's hornin' in now?" asked Sam. "Go on, Sandy."

  "But," said Molly, wide-eyed, "that's the life _I_ like. I mean outhere. I don't want to be different."

  "Shucks," said Sandy. "You won't be. Jest polished up. Skin slicked up,hair fixed to the style, nails trimmed an' shined. Culchured. Insideyou'll be yore real self. You can't take the gold out of a bit of oreany more than you can change iron pyrites inter the reel stuff. But, ifthe gold's goin' to be put into proper circulation, it's got to berefined. Sabe?"

  "I ain't refined, I reckon," said Molly with a sigh. "I don't know as Iwant to be. I can allus come back, can't I?"

  "You sure can."

  "An' there's Dad. He's where he wanted to be. I w'udn't want to go awayfrom him."

  "He'd want you to make this trip, sure," said Sandy. "An' that settlesit. You go off to bed an' dream on it. We got to figger out where you goan' that'll take some time an' thinkin'. I'm some tired myse'f. I'vebeen out of trainin' lately fo' excitement. Sam, I'm goin' to soak thatplace on yore arm with iodine. Good night, Molly."

  She got up immediately, went to Mo
rmon and to Sam and gravely shookhands, thanking them.

  "You-all are damned good to me," she said. Opposite Sandy she hesitated,then threw her arms round his neck and kissed him before she ran fromthe room, with Grit leaping after her. Sandy's bronzed face glowed likereflecting copper.

  "Some folks git all the luck," said Mormon.

  "There you go," bantered Sam, stripping his arm for the iodine. "Youbeen married three times, reg'lar magnet fo' the wimmin, an' you grudgeSandy pay fo' what he done. Me, I helped, but I ain't grudgin' him.Though I sure envy him."

  "Yes, you helped an' left me to home to count fingers."

  "Shucks! You matched for it, didn't you? An' didn't you have yore li'l'session with Plimsoll all to yorese'f. What's eatin' you? You want to bea five-ringed circus all to yorese'f an' have all the fun. Ef that stuffheals like it smahts, Sandy, I'll say I'm cured now."

  "It don't amount to much, Sam," said Sandy. "Yore flesh allus closed upquick. What you goin' to do with yore ninety dollars?"

  "I thought of buyin' me a new saddle. Mine's spiled. Couldn't trust thattree fo' ropin' now. But I figger I'll buy me a fine travelin' bag fo'Molly. Loan me yore catalogue, Mormon, so's I can choose one."

  So, bantering one another, they bunked in.