The Last Straw

  CHAPTER XXIV

  IN THE SHADOW

  The outcropping which formed Cathedral Tank stood stark and saffron inthe lap of the desert under the morning sun, flinging out slow waves ofheat even at that early hour, as Sam McKee rode from the wash into thebasin and stopped his horse.

  Since the mountains themselves were made that group of pinnacles andledges had jutted up from the seamed desert, a landmark for milesaround, catching the flood waters that rushed toward it from far hills.

  The name of the tank was result of no far-fetched imaginings for thegranite rose in long, slender spires, as though the thirsty desertreached great fingers toward the sky in stiff appeal. Narrow defilesstruck back into the granite and sharp crevices cut deeply down betweenthe natural minarets, and at one place a larger opening led backwardinto the rocks, widened and narrowed again, forming the rough outlinesof transept and nave. More, the wind which always blew there oftensounded deep notes as of an organ when it wandered through narrowspaces.

  On three sides this abrupt, ragged rise of rock shut in the basin andthe other was open to the waters that swept down from the south andeastward. When McKee neared this entrance he stopped his horse andreconnoitered. The other rider was not in sight, lost in some of themany depressions of the valley and many miles yonder, for the grayhorse had traveled a shorter distance and that at a trot. The roancould not arrive for some time.... So he reasoned....

  The man stopped his horse at the edge of the fresh, deep scar whichHepburn's explosive had made. Other tracks were there, made by Rileyyesterday. Across the way lay the dead steers and overhead a buzzardwheeled slowly, waiting to return to the feast from which he had beenfrightened by Sam's approach.

  "Bone dry!" the man said aloud, and laughed.

  Then he drank from his canteen and wiped his lips with a long sigh,either in satisfaction or anticipation, and then looked about; notabsently, but with plan and craft.

  To that point Beck would come, there he would stand, and behind was aledge on the face of the towering rock, higher than a mounted man'shead, deep and with enough backward pitch to conceal thoroughly a man'sbody. It would be a hard scramble, but he could gain it by aid of atough stub which grew on the wall. Once there he would be protected.

  McKee rode close under this ledge and stood in his saddle, lips partedand eyes alight. He could hold off a regiment there; what chance wouldone unsuspecting man have? As he stood so he unstrapped his gun and layit with its belt on the shelf.

  He dropped down and rode into a nearby, narrow crevice, where his horsecould remain concealed, dismounted, and took down his rope, preparatoryto tieing the animal.

  He believed his growing haste was only anticipation, but perhaps therewas a quality of premonition there. He had been unable to follow Beck'sprogress and remain concealed himself; therefore he had not seen theroan pick up his swinging trot as Tom's concentrated thought reachedferment and he sought relief in speed.

  McKee reached for the reins to lead his horse further into the crevice.Then his heart leaped and he went quickly cold as he looked at theanimal.

  The gray's head was up, ears stiff, eyes alert as a horse will pose onsensing the approach of another animal. Even as Sam's hands flashed outfor his nose the nostrils fluttered and had he been an instant later abetraying whinner would have gone echoing through the rocks to warnBeck. He drove his fingers into the soft muzzle and choked back thesound. The gray stepped quickly and shook his head whereat McKeerelaxed his grasp somewhat. They then stood quiet, both listening, thehorse alert, the man weak and white, breathing in fluttering gasps.

  He was trapped! Outside on the ledge where he had planned to wait andshoot Beck down without giving or taking a chance, lay his gun. Oneither side the walls rose sheer, without so much as a hand-hold foryards above his head; before was a blank wall; outside was Tom Beck.And fear of a degree such as the man had never known shook his body.

  It was that fear which is as dangerous to an enemy as the most absurdcourage. Discovery would mean catastrophe; he had nothing to gain byshirking now!

  Slowly he released his grip on the gray's nostrils, holding ready toclamp down again should the horse attempt to greet the other. He heardhoofs clatter on the rock basin, knew that Beck had stopped. Then thewind soughed through the rocks with its prolonged organ tone and forthe moment McKee could only guess what happened out there.

  The gray, with head turned, stared toward the opening of the creviceand then as no other sounds came, swung his head back to its normalposition and switched rather languidly at flies.

  Carefully McKee stole toward the entrance of the crevice where he mightsee the other man. He went with a hand against the granite, puttingdown his boots very carefully, hoping against hope that Beck would befar enough away so that he might either recover his gun or devise somemeans of escape. Perspiration ran from beneath his hat band and hishands were clammy cold. His breath continued in that fluttering gasp.

  Beck had dismounted and was squatted beside the scar in the rocks. Hisroan stood a dozen feet behind him. McKee peered out, measuring thedistance quickly. The other's back was to him but there was no chancethat he could regain his gun without being detected. Beck's revolverswung from his hip, and McKee had nothing with which to fight but therope in his hands....

  The rope! He stared down at it and drew back behind the boulder ofrock. The rope!

  An absurd, impotent device, but it had served purposes as desperate asthis! Besides ... there was a hope in it and, for McKee, there was noother hope beneath that blue dome of sky....

  He looked out again as he built his loop. Beck was on hands and knees,peering down into the crack through which stored waters had trickledaway. Sam made the loop quickly, steeled to caution. He moved out fromhis hiding place a step ... then another. The roan looked up, with alittle whiff of breath and Beck, attracted by the movement, the slightnoise, turned his head sharply toward the horse.

  It was then that the loop swirled and that McKee sped forward a dozenpaces as quickly, as quietly as a cat, balanced, sure of himself inthat crisis. From the tail of his eye Beck saw the first loop cut thecorner of his range of vision and his body made the first lunge towardan erect position as the lithe writhing thing sped through the air....

  McKee had never thrown as true. The loop settled about Tom's arms andbeneath his knees. It came taut with an angry rip through the hondoueven as the snared man made the first move to throw it off. He waspitched violently forward on his face, arms pinned to his sides, legsdoubled against his stomach.

  The breath went from him in an angry oath of surprise as McKee's breathshot from his lips in another oath ... of triumph. Hand over hand hewent down the rope, keeping it taut, yet hastening to reach the doubledbody before Beck could wriggle free. He fell upon the other just as onearm worked slack enough to permit the hand to strain for the revolverat his hip.

  Snarling, gibbering with a mingling of terror and rage, McKee's onehand fastened on the gun. He clung to the rope with the other,battering Beck, who struggled to rise, back to earth with his knees.His fingers clamped on the grip of the Colt; he pulled free: it flashedin the air as his thumb sought the hammer and then, as he drove themuzzle downward against its living target the man beneath him bowed andwrithed and he went over with a cry. A fist struck his wrist, therevolver exploded in the air and fell clattering, a dozen feet away.

  Then it was man to man, a fight of bone and muscle ... bone, muscle andrope. Blindly McKee clung to the strand with one hand. It passed abouthis body as they rolled over. Beck's own weight, struggling to tearfrom it, tightened its hold. Tom struck savagely at the face beside himwith his one free fist but McKee's knees, jamming into his stomach,crushed breath from him.

  For one vibrant instant their strength was matched, the one's physicaladvantage offset by the handicap of the lariat about him. And then therope told. Slowly Tom's resistance became less, gradually McKee woundthe hemp about his own hand and wrist, shutting down its sinuous grasp,drawing Beck's body into a mor
e compact knot. With a desperate shift hewas on top, winding the hard-twist about Tom's hands, trussing themtightly behind his back, licking his lips as he made his victim secure.

  In that time neither had spoken nor did McKee utter a sound as he rose,wiped the dust and sweat from his eyes and surveyed the figure at hisfeet. Beck looked back at him, the rage in his eyes giving way to asane calculation. At the cost of great effort he rolled over andpropped himself on one elbow. A scratch on his forehead sent a trickleof blood into one eye and he shook his head to be rid of it, coughingslightly as he did so.

  "Now," he said, his panting becoming less noticeable, "what do youthink you're goin' to do?"

  McKee laughed sharply and looked away. He walked to where the revolverlay in the sharp sunlight, picked it up, broke it, examined thecartridges and closed it again.

  "I come out here to kill you, Beck; that's what I'm goin' to do next."

  He did not lift his voice but about his manner was a defined swagger,the boasting of the craven who, for once, is beyond fear ofretribution. A slow shadow crossed between them as the buzzard wheeled,waiting, lazily impatient....

  Beck delayed a brief interval before asking:

  "Right here, Sam? You going to kill me right here?"

  "Right here, you--!" He spat out the unforgiveable epithet with a curlto his lip. For once he had this man where he wanted him; Beck's lifewas in his hands ... right in his _palm_.... "I'm goin' to killyou like I'd kill a snake! I've took a lot off you; I've stood for alot from you, but you've gone too fur, you've played your hand toohigh!"

  He began to feel a greater sense of his importance. He was dominatingand it was sweet.

  "I've waited a long time, Beck; I ain't forgot a thing you've done tome; I've been waitin' for just this chance!

  "Now I'm goin' to kill you, you--!"

  Again the word, with even great conviction. The man's lips trembledwith rage, but as he glared down at the other he saw the level, mockingeyes studying his. He had not yet impressed Tom Beck, had not made himfear! It was disconcerting.

  "What you goin' to kill me with, Sam?"

  "With your own gun, by God!"--spinning the cylinder.

  A moment of silence while Sam looked at the dull barrel, a queer, quickhesitancy coming over him, something he did not understand, somethinghe did not will. When, a moment before, he felt that the situationwould take a course exactly as he willed!

  "With my own gun!" Beck repeated.

  McKee cocked the weapon and looked about.

  "When you goin' to do this killing, Sam?"

  The level, mocking tone infuriated the other.

  "Now!" he cried, shaken by hate. "Now, by God!"

  He screamed the curse, threw the gun up to position and glared intoBeck's face, moving forward a step, standing poised as though he wouldshoot and then fling himself upon his victim to vent his festering ragewith his fists.

  But he had failed to reckon throughout on one fact: The human eye is astronger weapon than the inventive genius of man has ever devised, andhe was meeting the gaze from an eye that was as steady, as fearless, ascollected as any he had ever seen. His courage was the courage bred ofcowardly impulses and it could not stand before fearlessness....

  "Right now, Sam?"

  The question was low, gentle, and with another shade of inflectionmight have been a plea. But it was no plea. It was subtle, stingingmockery which penetrated McKee's understanding and gave full life tothat desire to hesitate which had shaken him a moment before.

  "You ain't goin' to kill me right off, are you Sam?"

  And at that McKee's irresolution became full blown. His body swungbackward from its menacing poise, the gun hand dropped just a degree;his gaze, an instant before fixed and red with hate, now wavered.

  "No, you ain't going to kill me now, Sam. You ain't got the guts!"

  Prostrate, bound, wholly helpless, miles from aid, Beck flung thosewords from his lips. They pelted on McKee's ears like hard flung stonesand he looked back to see the eyes that a moment ago had been amused,blazing righteous wrath.

  "You wouldn't kill anybody, McKee," Beck said, after a breathlesspause. In that pause McKee's gun hand had gone to his side and as itwent down so did the flare of rage in Beck's face. His eyes grew calmand steady again with that covert amusement in them.

  "You ain't just that kind of a man. If you'd been goin' to kill meyou'd have done it right off. You wouldn't have waited, like you'rewaitin' now.... You missed out on your intentions, Sam, when you didn'tdo it _pronto_."

  Across McKee's face swept a wave of helpless rage, humiliation, shame,self revulsion.... He stood there unable to move. He wanted to killwith a lust that men seldom feel, but he could not for he knew that hewas a coward, knew that Beck knew, and the assurance that it was withinhis physical power to take a life without risk to his own mattered notat all. The moral force was lacking.

  He tried to meet Beck's gaze and hold it but he could not. That man,even now, did not fear him, and to a man who had been impelled to everystrong act by fear, fearlessness is of itself an overwhelming force.

  Tom talked on, lowly, confidently. He chided, he made fun of hiscaptor; he belittled himself, discussed his inability to defendhimself, but time after time he said with emphasis:

  "You're afraid of me, Sam."

  Afraid of him! Yes, McKee was fear-filled. He could not kill and yetthought of the retribution that might come for going even this far puthim in a panic. There were others who would kill. Webb would have doneit, Hepburn might have ... there was one other who would have killed... Hilton, but _he_ could not and the others were far off. Theywould know, they would ridicule him and thought of that, coming soclose on that high expectation of triumph that had sent him out ontothe desert, made his position hopeless.

  He turned and walked slowly toward the ledge which was to have been hisassassin's hiding place.

  "Goin' to leave me, Sam?" Beck asked.

  "You'll see what I'm goin' to do?" McKee raved, wheeling, suddenlyarticulate. "You'll see what'll happen to you, you--! What's alreadyhappened is only a starter. I didn't intend to kill you myself. I onlycome here to hogtie you. I guess I done that, didn't I?"

  "Ain't you just sure, Sam?"

  The tone was stinging and where McKee might have raved on he simplygrasped the stub on the rock and scrambled up until he could reach hisrevolver.

  Beck asked if that was McKee's arsenal; wanted to know more about Sam'splans; wanted to know who sent him; wanted to know if any one else wascoming or if they were going out to meet others.... He talked gently,slowly, tauntingly until McKee fidgetted like an embarrassed schoolgirl.

  After a time Beck struggled to a sitting position, back against a rock.The searing sun beat down on his bared head, his wrists were puffing,fingers numb and swollen from the ropes cutting into his flesh. Hisbody ached miserably, but he would not betray that. His throat burnedfor water and there was water on his saddle, but he would not mentionthirst. There yet was danger! He must keep the other impressed with hisinferiority....

  "That your pet buzzard, Sam?" he asked once, squinting upward at thewheeling scavenger. "Somebody said you kept one ... to pick up afteryou...."

  "You wait! You'll have less to say after a while," McKee growled andstared off toward the heights to the eastward, feigning expectancy.

  And then, as McKee paced back and forth, covering his helplessness andhis fear to make another move, by the sham of watching for otherarrivals, Beck's mind began working on a theory. Two-Bits had been shotdown the day he had driven McKee off HC range. He had been shot frombehind. McKee was the only one in the country who had a personalquarrel with the homely cowboy.

  It was clear enough to him but he feared that an accusation, bringingsome demonstration of guilt, might bring other things that he dared notrisk. He played a game that was desperate enough. He lived by the graceof McKee's cowardice and that cowardice had permitted this triumph bythe scantest possible margin. To provoke the desperation that he knewwas latent in
Sam's heart would be the rankest folly.

  Noon, with blistering heat. McKee drank greedily, water running downhis chin and spattering over his boots. It was agony for Beck but hefought against betraying evidence of it, holding his eyes on the otherand smiling a trifle and wondering how long he could keep back thegroans.

  McKee squatted in the shade of a rock for a time. Once he looked atBeck while Tom was staring across the desert and that hate flickered upin his eyes again; then Tom looked back and he got up and walked,licking his lips.

  Two o'clock: "I don't guess they're comin' today, Sam. Maybe youmisunderstood 'em."

  Three: "Sure is too bad to have your plans all go to hell, isn't it,Sam?"

  The sensation had entirely gone from hands and lower arms. His bicepsand shoulders ached as though they had been mauled; his back was shotwith hot stabs of pain.

  But at four o'clock he said: "You'd ought to have killed me, Sam.That'd surprised 'em for sure!"

  He bit his lips to hold back the moan and for a time things swam. Hehoped that he would not lose consciousness ... hoped this rathervaguely, for vaguely he felt that McKee would kill him should he beunable to realize what transpired. He had a confused notion that JaneHunter was there and this disturbed him. He felt a poorly definedsinking sensation ... Jane ... and this. Why, then this really matteredvery little! That his life was in danger, that his body hurt, wereinconsequential details compared to the love that had died yesterday,to the hurt of his heart!

  A draft of cooler air, sucking through the rocks, roused him and helooked up to find that the tank was entirely in shadows. The rocks werestill hot but the air which moved above them was heavier, cooler. McKeepaced nervously back and forth. He wore two guns.

  "You reckon somebody's goin' to steal me?" Beck asked, forcing hisvoice to be steady. "I didn't realize I was valuable enough to be closeherded by a two-gun man."

  With the moderation of temperature Tom's alertness revived.

  "I'm goin' to sleep right here, Sam; where are you going to turn in?"he asked. "I sleep pretty well in th' open; how about you?"

  He leaned forward slightly and his eye had a brighter glint. Questionafter question he flung at the other. Now and then McKee growled; twicehe cursed Beck, in vile explosions of oaths. At these Beck nodded inassent.

  "I sure am an undesirable," he said.

  Back and forth, bewildered, McKee walked. He dared not face the futurewith Beck alive; he dared not take Beck's life. He feared thepunishment that might be his for this much he had done; he feared therelentless ridicule of Webb and Hepburn and of Hilton; he feared to go,he feared to stay. And gradually this last fear grew.

  "I think you ought to start out an' ride after 'em, Sam," Beck advised."Do they _sabe_ this country? You better go; they might getstrayed. I'll be here. I figure on stayin' quite a time. I.... Honest,Sam, I've had a hell of a good time today...."

  McKee wheeled in his walking.

  "You'll stay all right!" he screamed. "You damned bet your dirty skinyou won't go far! You've been talkin' a lot wiser than you know, you--!You'll stay!"

  He dropped to his knees beside Tom and with a wrench pulled off theman's boots.

  The movement sent exquisite pains through Tom's body, but he shut histeeth against them. He smiled, demonstrating more of the Spartan bythat smile than he had at any time during the day.

  "You ain't figuring on walkin' your boots out, are you?" he asked inmock solicitation.

  "Never you mind, you--!" McKee snarled.

  He brought out his horse, tightened the cinch and led him toward theroan. He tied Tom's boots to his own saddle and then without looking atthe man he had come to kill and who he was leaving bound, waterless,without boots or a horse, twenty miles from the first help, he lashedthe roan with his quirt, sharply about the head and, when the bigcreature wheeled in surprise, about the hocks.

  Kicking, frightened, stepping on the reins and breaking them off,Beck's horse ran away. Ran scot free, head up, out to the eastward,abused and headed for home. He began to buck, pitching desperately. Thesaddle worked back and under and down. He kicked it free. Somewherebetween the tank and that fallen saddle, Beck knew was his canteen. ButMcKee did not know. He mounted and stuck into the wash through which hehad ridden hours before, lashing the gray to a gallop, putting distancebetween his menace, his shame....

  And back in the tank as night came on a man for whom every move wastorment rolled and wriggled from place to place, searching doggedly fora ragged rock, among those that were water-worn and smooth.

  The buzzard had ceased his wheeling, the stars came out. Beck talkedaloud rather crazily. Everything seemed smooth; even the pain becameless harsh; everything was soft and easy ... remarkably so.... Untilhis cheek felt a ragged, narrow edge of rock, close in against the baseof the tallest spire. Moaning feebly he wriggled against it until theropes touched the edge. Then, with great labor, he began to writhe andtwist. It took hours to fray out a single strand, and his arms werebound by many ... hours....

  And when finally his arms fell apart, sensations, fiendish, killingsensations, began to stab through them, he laughed lightly and endedshortly. He was free!...

  Free?

  * * * * *

  Just at that time back in the HC ranch house a woman rose from hertumbled bed and dressed. Her eyes were dry though her breath cameunevenly.

  She looked into her mirror as she put on her hat.

  "You're a fool!" she cried lowly. "A fool!... False pride has taken twodays out of your life ... two precious days!"

  She ran down the stairs, out to the corral and saddled her sorrel horse.