CHAPTER XXIX
"INJUNS"
Bob swung down from the saddle in front of the bunkhouse.
Reeves came to the door and waved a hand. "'Lo, Sure-Shot! What's new inBear Cat?"
"Fellow thinkin' of startin' a drug-store. Jim Weaver is the happy dad oftwins. Mad dog shot on Main Street. New stage-line for Marvine planned.Mr. Jake Houck is enjoyin' a pleasant visit to our little city. I reckonthat's about all."
Dud had joined Tom in the doorway. "Meet up with Mr. Houck?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Have any talk?"
"He had some, but he hadn't hardly got to goin' good when the mad dogsashayed up the street. Mr. Houck he adjourned the meetin' immediate."
"More important business, I reckon," Dud grinned.
"He didn't mention it, but all those present were in a kinda hurry."
"So's some one else." Reeves nodded his head toward a small cloud of dustapproaching the ranch.
A rider galloped up and dragged his mount to a halt. "Utes have brokeout! Killed a trapper on Squaw Creek! Burned two nesters' houses!" Hisvoice was high and excited.
"Rumor?" asked Dud.
"No, sir. I talked with a fellow that seen the body. Met two familiesthat had lit out from Squaw Creek. They're sure enough on the warpath."
Harshaw took the matter seriously. He gave crisp orders to his riders tocover the creeks and warn all settlers to leave for Bear Cat or Meeker.Dud and Bob were assigned Milk Creek.
It was hard for the young fellows, as they rode through a land of warmsunshine, to believe that there actually was another Indian outbreak. Ithad been ten years since the Meeker massacre and the defeat of MajorThornburg's troops. The country had begun to settle up. The Utes knewthat their day was done, though they still came up occasionally from thereservation on illicit hunting trips.
This very country over which they were riding was the scene of theThornburg battle-field. The Indians had lain in ambush and waited for thetroops to come over the brow of the rise. At the first volley thecommander of the soldiers had fallen mortally wounded. The whites, takenby surprise, fell back in disorder. The Utes moved up on them from bothsides and the trapped men fled.
"Must 'a' been right about here Thornburg was shot," explained Dud."Charley Mason was one o' the soldiers an' he told me all about it.Captain Jack was in charge of this bunch of Utes. Seems he had signalfires arranged with those at the agency an' they began their attacks atthe same time. Charley claimed they didn't know there was Injuns withintwenty miles when the bullets began to sing. Says he ran five milesbefore he took a breath."
Bob looked around apprehensively. History might repeat itself. At thisvery moment the Utes might be lying in the draw ready to fire on them. Hewas filled with a sudden urgent desire to get through with their job andturn the heads of their ponies toward Bear Cat.
"Makes a fellow feel kinda squeamish," Dud said. "Let's move, Bob."
They carried the word to the settlers on the creek and turned in thedirection of Bear Cat. They reached town late and found the placebustling with excitement. Families of settlers were arriving in wagonsand on horseback from all directions. There were rumors that the Indianswere marching on the town. A company of militia had been ordered to thescene by the Governor of the State and was expected to arrive on thesecond day from this.
Camp-fires were burning in the park plaza and round them were groupedmen, women, and children in from the ranches. On all the roads leading totown sentries were stationed. Others walked a patrol along the riverbankand along the skirts of the foothills.
Three or four cowpunchers had been celebrating the declaration of war. Inthe community was a general feeling that the Utes must be put down oncefor all. In spite of the alarm many were glad that the unrest had come toan issue at last.
Bob and Dud tied their horses to a hitching-rack and climbed the fenceinto the park. Blister came out of the shadows to meet them.
"W-whad I tell you, Texas man?" he asked of Bob. "Show-down at last, likeI said."
Into the night lifted a startled yell. "Here come the Injuns!"
Taut nerves snapped. Wails of terror rose here and there. A womanfainted. The sound of a revolver shot rang out.
One of the roisterers, who had been loud in his threats of what he meantto do to the Indians, lost his braggadocio instantly. He leaped for thesaddle of the nearest horse and dug his spurs home. In his fuddledcondition he made a mistake. He had chosen, as a mount upon which toescape, the fence that encircled the park.
"Gid ap! Gid ap!" he screamed.
"Yore bronc is some balky, ain't it, Jud?" Hollister asked. He hadalready discovered that the panic had been caused by a false cry of"Wolf" raised by one of the fence rider's companions.
"S-some one hitched it to a post," Blister suggested.
"Ride him, puncher," urged Bob. "Stick to yore saddle if he does buck."
Jud came off the fence sheepishly. "I was aimin' to go get help," heexplained.
"Where was you going for it--to Denver?" asked Blister.
The night wore itself out. With the coming of day the spirits of the lesshardy revived. The ranchers on the plaza breakfasted in groups, afterwhich their children were bundled off to school. Scouts rode out to learnthe whereabouts of the Utes and others to establish contact with theapproaching militia.
Harshaw organized a company of rangers made up mostly of cowpunchers fromthe river ranches. During the day more of these drifted in. By dusk hehad a group of forty hard-riding young fellows who could shoot straightand were acquainted with the country over which they would have tooperate. Blister was second in command. All of the Slash Lazy D ridershad enlisted except one who had recently broken a leg.
Scouts brought in word that the Utes had swung round Bear Cat and werecamped about thirty miles up the river. Harshaw moved out to meet them.He suspected the Indians of planning to ambush the militia before thesoldiers could join forces with the rangers.
Bob had joined the rangers with no enthusiasm. He had enlisted because ofpressure both within and without. He would have been ashamed not to offerhimself. Moreover, everybody seemed to assume he would go. But he wouldmuch rather have stayed at Bear Cat with the home guards. From what hehad picked up, he was far from sure that the Utes were to blame thistime. The Houck killing, for instance. And that was not the only outragethey had endured. It struck him more like a rising of the whites. Theyhad provoked the young bucks a good deal, and a sheriff's posse hadarrested some of them for being off the reservation hunting. Wisediplomacy might at least have deferred the conflict.
During the bustle of preparing to leave, Bob's spirits were normal eventhough his nerves were a little fluttery. As they rode out of town hecaught sight for a moment of a slim, dark girl in a blue gingham at thedoor of the hotel. She waved a hand toward the group of horsemen. It wasDud who answered the good-bye. He had already, Bob guessed, said aprivate farewell of his own to June. At any rate, his friend had metHollister coming out of the hotel a few minutes before. The cowpuncher'seyes were shining and a blue skirt was vanishing down the passage. Therehad been a queer ache in Bob Dillon's heart. He did not blame either ofthem. Of course June would prefer Dud to him. Any girl in her senseswould. He had all the charm of gay and gallant youth walking in thesunshine.
None the less it hurt and depressed him that there should be a privateunderstanding between his friend and June. A poignant jealousy stabbedhim. There was nothing in his character to attract a girl like June ofswift and pouncing passion. He was too tame, too fearful. Dud had a spiceof the devil in him. It flamed out unexpectedly. Yet he was reliable too.This clean, brown man, fair-haired and steady-eyed, riding with suchincomparable ease, would do to tie to, in the phrase of the country.Small wonder a girl's heart turned to him.