Brand Blotters

  CHAPTER III

  THE TABLES TURNED

  From the local eastbound a man swung to the station platform at Mesa. Hewas a dark, slim, little man, wiry and supple, with restless black eyeswhich pierced one like bullets.

  The depot loungers made him a focus of inquiring looks. But, in spite ofhis careless ease, a shrewd observer would have read anxiety in hisbearing. It was as if behind the veil of his indifference there rested aperpetual vigilance. The wariness of a beast of prey lay close to thesurface.

  "Mornin', gentlemen," he drawled, sweeping the group with his eyes.

  "Mornin'," responded one of the loafers.

  "I presume some of you gentlemen can direct me to the house of MayorLee."

  "The mayor ain't to home," volunteered a lank, unshaven native inbutternut jeans and boots.

  "I think it was his house I inquired for," suggested the stranger.

  "Fust house off the square on the yon side of the postoffice--a bigtwo-story brick, with a gallery and po'ches all round it."

  Having thanked his informant, the stranger passed down the street. Thecurious saw him pass in at the mayor's gate and knock at the door. Itopened presently, and disclosed a flash of white, which they knew to bethe skirt of a girl.

  "I reckon that's Miss 'Lissie," the others were informed by the unshavenone. "She's let him in and shet the door."

  Inevitably there followed speculation as to who the arrival might be. Thathis coming had something to do with the affair of the West kidnapping, allwere disposed to agree; but just what it might have to do with it, none ofthem could do more than guess. If they could have heard what passedbetween Melissy and the stranger, their curiosity would have beengratified.

  "Good mornin', miss. Is Mayor Lee at home?"

  "No--he isn't. He hasn't got back yet. Is there anything I can do foryou?"

  Two rows of even white teeth flashed in a smile. "I thought maybe therewas something I could do for you. You are Miss Lee, I take it?"

  "Yes. But I don't quite understand--unless you have news."

  "I have no news--yet."

  "You mean----" Her eager glance swept over him. The brown eyes, which hadbeen full of questioning, flashed to understanding. "You are notLieutenant O'Connor?"

  "Am I not?" he smiled.

  "I mean--are you?"

  "At your service, Miss Lee."

  She had heard for years of this lieutenant of rangers, who was the terrorof all Arizona "bad men." Her father, Jack Flatray, the range riders whomshe knew--game men all--hailed Bucky O'Connor as a wonder. For coolnessunder fire, for acumen, for sheer, unflawed nerve, and for his skill inthat deadly game he played of hunting down desperadoes, they called himchief ungrudgingly. He was a daredevil, who had taken his life in hishands a hundred times. Yet always he came through smiling, and broughtback with him the man he went after. The whisper ran that he bore acharmed life, so many had been his hairbreadth escapes.

  "Come in," the girl invited. "Father said, if you came, I was to keep youhere until he got back or sent a messenger for you. He's hunting for thecriminals in the Roaring Fork country. Of course, he didn't know when youwould get here. At the time he left we hadn't been able to catch you onthe wire. I signed Mr. Flatray's name at his suggestion, because he was incorrespondence with you once about the Roaring Fork outlaws. He is out inthe hills, too. He started half an hour after the kidnappers. But he isn'tarmed. I'm troubled about him."

  Again the young man's white-toothed smile flashed. "You'd better be.Anybody that goes hunting Black MacQueen unarmed ought to be right wellinsured."

  She nodded, a shadow in her eyes. "Yes--but he would go. He doesn't meanthem to see him, if he can help it."

  "Black sees a heap he isn't expected to see. He has got eyes all over thehills, and they see by night as well as by day."

  "Yes--I know he has spies everywhere; and he has the hill peopleterrorized, they say. You think this is his work?"

  "It's a big thing--the kind of job he likes to tackle. Who else would daredo such a thing?"

  "That's what father thinks. If he had stolen the President of the UnitedStates, it wouldn't have stirred up a bigger fuss. Newspaper men anddetectives are hurrying here from all directions. They are sure to catchhim."

  "Are they?"

  She noticed a curious, derisive contempt in the man's voice, and laid itto his vanity. "I don't mean that _they_ are. I mean that _you_ are sureto get him," she hastened to add. "Father thinks you are wonderful."

  "I'm much obliged to him," said the man, with almost a sneer.

  He seemed to have so good an opinion of himself that he was above praiseeven. Melissy was coming to the decision that she did not like him--whichwas disappointing, since she had expected to like him immensely.

  "I didn't look for you till night. You wired you would be on numberseven," she said. "I understood that was the earliest you could gethere."

  His explanation of the change was brief, and invited no furtherdiscussion. "I found I could make an earlier train."

  "I'm glad you could. Father says it is always well to start on the trailwhile it is fresh."

  "Have you ever seen this MacQueen, Miss Lee?" he asked.

  "Not unless he was there when Mr. West was kidnapped."

  "Did you know any of the men?"

  She hesitated. "I thought one was Duncan Boone."

  "What made you think so?"

  "He was the leader, I think, moved the way he does." Her anger flashed foran instant. "And acted like him--detestably."

  "Was he violent to West? Injure him?"

  "No--he didn't do him any physical injury that I saw. I wasn't thinkingabout Mr. West."

  "Surely he didn't lay hands on _you_!"

  She looked up, in time to see the flicker of amusement sponged from hisface. It stirred vague anger in her. "He was insolent and ungentlemanly."

  "As how?"

  "It doesn't matter how." Her manner specifically declined toparticularize.

  "Would you recognize him again if you met him? Describe him, if you can."

  "Yes. I used to know him well--before he became known as an outlaw," sheadded after a perceptible hesitation. "There's something ravenous abouthim."

  "You mean that he is fierce and bloodthirsty?"

  "No--I don't mean that; though, for that matter, I don't think he wouldstick at anything. What I mean is that he is pantherine in hismovements--more lithe and supple than most men are."

  "Is he a big man?"

  "No--medium size, and dark."

  "There were four of them, you say?"

  "Yes. Jack saw them, too, but at a distance."

  "He reached you after they were out of sight?"

  "They had been gone about five minutes when I saw him--five or ten. Icouldn't be sure."

  "Boone offered no personal indignity to you?"

  "Why are you so sure?" she flashed.

  "The story is that he is quite the ladies' man."

  Melissy laughed scornfully.

  At his request, she went over again the story of the abduction, tellingeverything save the matter of the ravished kisses. This she kept toherself. She did not quite know why, except that there was something shedid not like about this Bucky O'Connor. He had a trick of narrowing hiseyes and gloating over her, as a cat gloats over its expected kill.

  However, his confidence impressed her. Cocksure he was, and before longshe knew him boastful; but competence sat on him, none the less. Shethought she could see why he was held to be the most deadly bloodhound ona trail that even Arizona could produce. That he was fearless she did notneed to be told, any more than she needed a certificate that on occasionhe could be merciless. On the other hand, he fitted very badly with thecharacter of the young lieutenant of rangers, as Jack Flatray had sketchedit for her. Her friend's description of his hero had been enthusiastic.She decided that the young cattleman was a bad judge of men--though, ofcourse, he had never actually met O'Connor.

  "I reckon I'll not wait for your father's r
eport, Miss Lee. I workindependent of other men. That is how I get the wonderful results I do."

  His conceit nettled her; also, it stung her filial loyalty. "My father wasthe best sheriff this county ever had," she said stiffly.

  He smiled satirically. "Still, I reckon I'll handle this my ownway--unless your father's daughter wants to go partners with me in it."

  She gave him a look intended to crush his impudence. "No, thank you."

  He ate a breakfast which she had the cook prepare hurriedly for him, anddeparted on the horse for which she had telephoned to the nearest liverystable. Melissy was a singularly fearless girl; yet she watched him gowith a decided relief, for which she could not account. He rode, sheobserved, like a centaur--flat-backed, firm in the saddle with the easynegligence of a plainsman. He turned as he started, and waved a handdebonairly at her.

  "If I have any luck, I'll bring back one of the Roaring Fork bunch withme--a present for a good girl, Miss Melissy."

  She turned on her heel and went inside. Anger pulsed fiercely through her.He laughed at her, made fun of her, and yet called her by her first name.How dared he treat her so! Worst of all, she read admiration bold andunveiled in the eyes that mocked her.

  Half an hour later Flatray, riding toward town with his prisoner in frontof him, heard a sudden sharp summons to throw up his hands. A man hadrisen from behind a boulder, and held him covered steadily.

  Jack looked at the fellow without complying. He needed no second glance totell him that this man was not one to be trifled with. "Who are you?" hedemanded quietly.

  "Never mind who I am. Reach for the sky."

  The captured outlaw had given a little whoop, and was now loosening therope from his neck. "You're the goods, Cap! I knew the boys would pull itoff for me, but I didn't reckon on it so durn soon."

  "Shut up!" ordered the man behind the gun, without moving his eyes fromFlatray.

  "I'm a clam," retorted the other.

  "I'm waiting for those hands to go up; but I'll not wait long, seh."

  Jack's hands went up reluctantly. "You've got the call," he admitted.

  They led him a couple of hundred yards from the trail and tied him handand foot. Before they left him the outlaw whom he had captured evened hisscore. Three times he struck Flatray on the head with the butt of hisrevolver. He was lying on the ground bleeding and senseless when they rodeaway toward the hills.

  Jack came to himself with a blinding headache. It was some time before herealized what had happened. As soon as he did he set about freeinghimself. This was a matter of a few minutes. With the handkerchief thatwas around his neck he tied up his wounds. Fortunately his hair was verythick and this had saved him from a fractured skull. Dizzily he got to hisfeet, found his horse, and started toward Mesa.

  Not many people were on the streets when the sheriff passed through thesuburbs of the little town, for it was about the breakfast hour. One stoutold negro mammy stopped to stare in surprise at his bloody head.

  "Laws a mussy, Mistah Flatray, what they done be'n a-doin' to you-all?"she asked.

  The sheriff hardly saw her. He was chewing the bitter cud of defeat andwas absorbed in his thoughts. He was still young enough to have counted onthe effect upon Melissy of his return to town with one of the abductors ashis prisoner.

  It happened that she was on the porch watering her flower boxes when hepassed the house.

  "Jack!" she cried, and on the heels of her exclamation: "What's the matterwith you? Been hurt?"

  A gray pallor had pushed through the tan of her cheeks. She knew her heartwas beating fast.

  "Bumped into a piece of bad luck," he grinned, and told her briefly whathad occurred.

  She took him into the house and washed his head for him. After she saw howserious the cuts were she insisted on sending for a doctor. When hiswounds were dressed she fed him and made him lie down and sleep on herfather's bed.

  The sun was sliding down the heavens to a crotch in the hills before hejoined her again. She was in front of the house clipping her roses.

  "Is the invalid better?" she asked him.

  "He's a false alarm. But he did have a mighty thumping headache that hasgone now."

  "I've been wondering why you didn't meet Lieutenant O'Connor. He must havetaken the road you came in on."

  The young man's eyes lit. "Is Bucky here already?"

  "He was. He's gone. I was greatly disappointed in him. He's not half theman you think he is."

  "Oh, but he is. Everybody says so."

  "I never saw a more conceited man, or a more hateful one. There'ssomething about him--oh, I don't know. But he isn't good. I'm sure ofthat."

  "His reputation isn't of that kind. They say he's devoted to his wife andkids."

  "His wife and children." Melissy recalled the smoldering admiration in hisbold eyes. She laughed shortly. "That finishes him with me. He's married,is he? Well, I know the kind of husband he is."

  Jack flashed a quick look at her. He guessed what she meant. But this didnot square at all with what his friends had told him of O'Connor.

  "Did he ask for me?"

  "No. He said he preferred to play a lone hand. His manner was unpleasantall the time. He knows it all. I could see that."

  "Anyhow, he's a crackerjack in his line. Have you heard from your fathersince he set out?"

  "Not yet."

  "Well, I'm going to start to-night with a posse for the Cache. If O'Connorcomes back, tell him I'll follow the Roaring Fork."

  "You'll not go this time without a gun, Jack," she said with a ghost of asmile.

  "No. I want to make good this trip."

  "You did splendidly before. Not one man in a hundred would have done sowell."

  "I'm a wonder," he admitted with a grin.

  "But you will take care of yourself--not be foolish."

  "I don't aim to take up residence in Boot Hill cemetery if I can helpit."

  "Boone and his men are dangerous characters. They are playing for highstakes. They would snuff your life out as quick as they would wink. Don'tforget that."

  "You don't want me to lie down before Dunc Boone, do you?"

  "No-o. Only don't be reckless. I told father the same."

  Her dear concern for him went to Jack's head, but he steadied himselfbefore he answered. "I've got one real good reason for not being reckless.I'll tell you what it is some day."

  Her shy, alarmed eyes fled his at once. She began an account of how herfather had gathered his posse and where she thought he must have gone.

  After dinner Jack went downtown. Melissy did some household tasks andpresently moved out to the cool porch. She was just thinking about goingback in when a barefoot boy ran past and whistled. From the next house asecond youngster emerged.

  "That you, Jimmie?"

  "Betcherlife. Say, 've you heard about the sheriff?"

  "Who? Jack Flatray! Course I have. The Roaring Fork outfit ambushed him,beat him up, and made him hit the trail for town."

  "Aw! That ain't news. He's started back after them again. Left jes' alittle while ago. I saw him go--him 'n' Farnum 'n' Charley Hymer 'n' HalYarnell 'n' Mr. Bellamy."

  "Bet they git 'em."

  "Bet they don't."

  "Aw, course they'll git 'em, Tom."

  The other youngster assumed an air of mystery. He swelled his chest andstrutted a step or two nearer. Urbane condescension oozed from him.

  "Say, Jimmie. C'n you keep a secret?"

  "Sure. Course I can."

  "Won't ever snitch?"

  "Cross my heart."

  "Well, then--I'm Black MacQueen, the captain of the Roaring Fork badmen."

  "You!" Incredulity stared from Jimmie's bulging eyes.

  "You betcher. I'm him, here in disguise as a kid."

  The magnificent boldness of this claim stole Jimmie's breath for aninstant. He was two years younger than his friend, but he did not quiteknow whether to applaud or to jeer. Before he could make up his mind alight laugh rippled to them from behind the vi
nes on the Lee porch.

  The disguised outlaw and his friend were startled. Both fled swiftly, withall the pretense of desperate necessity young conspirators love toassume.

  Melissy went into the house and the laughter died from her lips. She knewthat either her father's posse or that of Jack Flatray would come intotouch with the outlaws eventually. When the clash came there would be adesperate battle. Men would be killed. She prayed it might not be one ofthose for whom she cared most.