CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
"I THINK AL WOODRUFF'S GOT HER"
There was no opportunity for further conference. Senator Warfield showedno especial interest in Swan, and the Swede was permitted withoutcomment to take his dog and strike off up the ridge. Jim and Sorry weresent to look after Brit, who was still shouting vain threats against theSawtooth, and the three men rode away together. Warfield did not suggestseparating, though Lone expected him to do so, since one man on a trailwas as good as three in a search of this kind.
He was still inclined to doubt the whole story. He did not believe thatLorraine had been to the Sawtooth, or that she had raved about anything.She had probably gone off by herself to cry and to worry over hertroubles,--hurt, too, perhaps, because Lone had left the ranch thatmorning without a word with her first. He believed the story of herbeing insane had been carefully planned, and that Warfield had perhapsridden over in the hope that they would find her alone; though withFrank dead on the ranch that would be unlikely. But to offset that,Lone's reason told him that Warfield had probably not known that Frankwas dead. That had been news to him--or had it? He tried to rememberwhether Warfield had mentioned it first and could not. Too manydisturbing emotions had held him lately; Lone was beginning to feel theneed of a long, quiet pondering over his problems. He did not feel sureof anything except the fact that the Quirt was like a drowning manstruggling vainly against the whirlpool that is sucking him slowlyunder.
One thing he knew, and that was his determination to stay with these twoof the Sawtooth until he had some definite information; until he sawLorraine or knew that she was safe from them. Like a weight pressingharder and harder until one is crushed beneath it, their talk ofLorraine's insanity forced fear into his soul. They could do just whatthey had talked of doing. He himself had placed that weapon in theirhands when he took her to the Sawtooth delirious and told of wilderwords and actions. Hawkins and his wife would swear away her sanity ifthey were told to do it, and there were witnesses in plenty who hadheard him call her crazy that first morning.
They could do it; they could have her committed to an asylum, or atleast to a sanitarium. He did not underestimate the influence of SenatorWarfield. And what could the Quirt do to prevent the outrage? FrankJohnson was dead; Brit was out of the fight for the time being; Jim andSorry were the doggedly faithful sort who must have a leader before theycan be counted upon to do much.
Swan,--Lone lifted his head and glanced toward the ridge when he thoughtof Swan. There, indeed, he might hope for help. But Swan was out here,away from reinforcements. He was trailing Al Woodruff, and when he foundhim,--that might be the end of Swan. If not, Warfield could hurryLorraine away before Swan could act in the matter. A whimsical thoughtof Swan's telepathic miracle crossed his mind and was dismissed as anunseemly bit of foolery in a matter so grave as Lorraine's safety. Andyet--the doctor _had_ received a message that he was wanted at theQuirt, and he had arrived before his patient. There was no gettingaround that, however impossible it might be. No one could have foreseenBrit's accident; no one save the man who had prepared it for him, and hewould be the last person to call for help.
"We followed the girl's horse-tracks almost to Thurman's place and lostthe trail there." Warfield turned in the saddle to look at Lone ridingbehind him. "We made no particular effort to trace her from there,because we were sure she would come on home. I'm going back that far,and we'll pick up the trail, unless we find her at the ranch. She mayhave hidden herself away. You can't," he added, "be sure of anythingwhere a demented person is concerned. They never act according to logicor reason, and it is impossible to make any deductions as to theirprobable movements."
Lone nodded, not daring to trust his tongue with speech just then. If hewere to protect Lorraine later on, he knew that he must not defend hernow.
"Hawkins told me she had some sort of hallucination that she had seen aman killed at Rock City, when she was wandering around in that storm,"Warfield went on in a careless, gossipy tone. "Just what was thatabout, Lone? You're the one who found her and took her in to the ranch,I believe. She somehow mixed her delusion up with Fred Thurman, didn'tshe?"
Lone made a swift decision. He was afraid to appear to hesitate, so helaughed his quiet little chuckle while he scrambled mentally for aplausible lie.
"I don't know as she done that, quite," he drawled humorously. "She wasout of her head, all right, and talking wild, but I laid it to her beingsick and scared. She said a man was shot, and that she saw it happen.And right on top of that she said she didn't think they ought to stage amurder and a thunderstorm in the same scene, and thought they ought tosave the thunder and lightning for the murderer to make his getaway by.She used to work for the moving pictures, and she was going on aboutsome wild-west picture she thought she was acting a part in.
"Afterwards I told her what she'd been saying, and she seemed to kindaremember it, like a bad dream she'd had. She told me she thought thevillain in one of the plays she acted in had pulled off a stage murderin them rocks. We figured it out together that the first crack ofthunder had sounded like shooting, and that's what started her off. Shehadn't ever been in a real thunderstorm before, and she's scared ofthem. I know that one we had the other day like to of scared her intohysterics. I laughed at her and joshed her out of it."
"Didn't she ever say anything about Fred Thurman, then?" Warfieldpersisted.
"Not to me, she didn't. Fred was dragged that night, and if she heardabout a man being killed during that same storm, she might have saidsomething about it. She might have wondered if that was what she saw. Idon't know. She's pretty sensible--when she ain't crazy."
Warfield turned his horse, as if by accident, so that he was broughtface to face with Lone. His eyes searched Lone's face pitilessly.
"Lone, you know how ugly a story can grow if it's left alone. Do _you_believe that girl actually saw a man shot? Or do you think she wascrazy?"
Lone met Warfield's eyes fairly. "I think she was plumb out of herhead," he answered. And he added with just the right degree ofhesitation: "I don't think she's what you'd call right crazy, Mr.Warfield. Lots of folks go outa their heads and talk crazy when theyget a touch of fever, and they get over it again."
"Let's have a fair understanding," Warfield insisted. "Do you think I amjustified in the course I am taking, or don't you?"
"Hunting her up? Sure, I do! If you and Hawkins rode on home, I'd keepon hunting till I located her. If she's been raving around like you say,she's in no shape to be riding these hills alone. She's got to be takencare of."
Warfield gave him another sharp scrutiny and rode on. "I always preferto deal in the open with every one," he averred. "It may not be myaffair, strictly speaking. The Quirt and the Sawtooth aren't veryintimate. But the Quirt's having trouble enough to warrant any one inlending a hand; and common humanity demands that I take charge of thegirl until she is herself again."
"I don't know as any one would question that," Lone assented and groundhis teeth afterwards because he must yield even the appearance ofapproval. He knew that Warfield must feel himself in rather a desperateposition, else he would never trouble to make his motives so clear toone of his men. Indeed, Warfield had protested his unselfishness in thematter too much and too often to have deceived the dullest man who ownedthe slightest suspicion of him. Lone could have smiled at the sight ofSenator Warfield betraying himself so, had smiling been possible to himthen.
He dropped behind the two at the first rough bit of trail and feltstealthily to test the hanging of his six-shooter, which he might needin a hurry. Those two men would never lay their hands on Lorraine Hunterwhile he lived to prevent it. He did not swear it to himself; he had noneed.
They rode on to Fred Thurman's ranch, dismounted at Warfield'ssuggestion--which amounted to a command--and began a careful search ofthe premises. If Warfield had felt any doubt of Lone's loyalty heappeared to have dismissed it from his mind, for he sent Lone to thestable to search there, while he and Hawkins went into the house. Loneg
uessed that the two felt the need of a private conference after theirvisit to the Quirt, but he could see no way to slip unobserved to thehouse and eavesdrop, so he looked perfunctorily through all the shedsand around the depleted haystacks,--wherever a person could find ahiding place. He was letting himself down through the manhole in thestable loft when Swan's voice, lowered almost to a whisper, startledhim.
"What the hell!" Lone ejaculated under his breath. "I thought you wereon another trail!"
"That trail leads here, Lone. Did you find Raine yet?"
"Not a sign of her. Swan, I don't know what to make of it. I did thinkthem two were stalling. I thought they either hadn't seen her at all, orhad got hold of her and were trying to square themselves on the insanitydodge. But if they know where she is, they're acting damn queer, Swan.They _want_ her. They haven't got her yet."
"They're in the house," Swan reassured Lone. "I heard them walking. Youdon't think they've got her there, Lone?"
"If they have," gritted Lone, "they made the biggest blunder of theirlives bringing me over here. No, I could see they wanted to get offalone and hold a powwow. They expected she'd be at the Quirt."
"I think Al Woodruff, he's maybe got her, then," Swan declared, afterstudying the matter briefly. "All the way he follows the trail overhere, Lone. I could see you sometimes in the trail. He was keeping hidfrom the trail--I think because Raine was riding along, this morning,and he's following. The tracks are that old."
"They said they had trailed Raine this far, coming from the Sawtooth,"Lone told him worriedly. "What do you think Al would want----"
"Don't she see him shoot Fred Thurman? By golly, I'm scared for thatgirl, Loney!"
Lone stared at him. "He wouldn't dare!"
"A coward is a brave man when you scare him bad enough," Swan statedflatly. "I'm careful always when I corner a coward."
"Al ain't a coward. You've got him wrong."
"Maybe, but he kills like a coward would kill, and he's scared he willbe caught. Warfield, he's scared, too. You watch him, Lone.
"Now I tell you what I do. Yack, he picks up the trail from here towhere you can follow easy. We know two places where he didn't go withher, and from here is two more trails he could take. But one goes to themain road, and he don't take that one, I bet you. I think he takes thatgirl up Spirit Canyon, maybe. It's woods and wild country in a fewmiles, and plenty of places to hide, and good chances for getting outover the top of the divide.
"I'm going to my cabin, and you don't say anything when I leave.Warfield, he don't want the damn Swede hanging around. So you go withthem, Loney. This is to what you call a show-down."
"We'll want the dog," Lone told him, but Swan shook his head. Hawkinsand Warfield had come from the house and were approaching the stable.Swan looked at Lone, and Lone went forward to meet them.
"The Swede followed along on the ridge, and he didn't see anything," hevolunteered, before Warfield could question him. "We might put his dogon the trail and see which way she went from here."
Warfield thought that a good idea. He was so sure that Lorraine must besomewhere within a mile or two of the place that he seemed to think thesearch was practically over when Jack, nosing out the trail of AlWoodruff, went trotting toward Spirit Canyon.
"Took the wrong turn after she left the corrals here," Warfieldcommented relievedly. "She wouldn't get far, up this way."
"There's the track of two horses," Hawkins said abruptly. "That there isthe girl's horse, all right--there's a hind shoe missing. We saw whereher horse had cast a shoe, coming over Juniper Ridge. But there'sanother horse track."
Lone bit his lip. It was the other horse that Jack had been trailing solong. "There was a loose horse hanging around Thurman's place," he saidcasually. "It's him, tagging along, I reckon."
"Oh," said Hawkins. "That accounts for it."