Chapter XI
Tighe Weaves his Web Tighter
The hooded eyes of Jess Tighe slanted across the table at his visitor.Not humor but mordant irony had given birth to the sardonic smile onhis thin, bloodless lips.
"I reckon you'll be glad to know that you've been entertaining an angelunawares, Hal," he jeered. "I've been looking up your handsome youngfriend, and I can tell you what the 'R.B.' in his hat stands for incase you would be interested to know."
The owner of the horse ranch gave a little nod. "Unload yourinformation, Jess."
Tighe leaned forward for emphasis and bared his teeth. If evermalevolent hate was written on a face it found expression on his now.
"'R.B.' stands for Royal Beaudry."
Rutherford flashed a question at him from startled eyes. He waited forthe other man to continue.
"You remember the day we put John Beaudry out of business?" asked Tighe.
"Yes. Go on." Hal Rutherford was not proud of that episode. In themain he had fought fair, even though he had been outside the law. Buton the day he had avenged the death of his brother Anson, the feudbetween him and the sheriff had degenerated to murder. A hundred timessince he had wished that he had gone to meet the officer alone.
"He had his kid with him. Afterward they shipped him out of thecountry to an aunt in Denver. He went to school there. Well, I've hada little sleuthing done."
"And you've found out--?"
"What I've told you."
"How?"
"He said his name was Cherokee Street, but Jeff told me he didn't actlike he believed himself. When yore girl remembered there was a streetof that name in Denver, Mr. Cherokee Street was plumb rattled. He seenhe'd made a break. Well, you saw that snapshot Beulah took of him andme on the porch. I sent it to a detective agency in Denver with ordersto find out the name of the man that photo fitted. My idea was for themanager to send a man to the teachers of the high schools, beginningwith the school nearest Cherokee Street. He done it. The thirdschoolmarm took one look at the picture and said the young fellow wasRoyal Beaudry. She had taught him German two years. That's howcome Ito know what that 'R.B.' in the hat stands for."
"Perhaps it is some other Beaudry."
"Take another guess," retorted the cripple scornfully. "Right off whenI clapped eyes on him, I knew he reminded me of somebody. I know nowwho it was."
"But what's he doing up here?" asked the big man.
The hawk eyes of Tighe glittered. "What do you reckon the son of JohnBeaudry would be doing here?" He answered his own question with bitteranimosity. "He's gathering evidence to send Hal Rutherford and JessTighe to the penitentiary. That's what he's doing."
Rutherford nodded. "Sure. What else would he be doing if he is a chipof the old block? That's where his father's son ought to put us if hecan."
Tighe beat his fist on the table, his face a map of appalling fury andhate. "Let him go to it, then. I've been a cripple seventeen yearsbecause Beaudry shot me up. By God! I'll gun his son inside oftwenty-four hours. I'll stomp him off'n the map like he was arattlesnake."
"No," vetoed Rutherford curtly.
"What! What's that you say?" snarled the other.
"I say he'll get a run for his money. If there's any killing to bedone, it will be in fair fight."
"What's ailing you?" sneered Tighe. "Getting soft in your upper story?Mean to lie down and let that kid run you through to the pen like hisfather did Dan Meldrum?"
"Not in a thousand years," came back Rutherford. "If he wants war, hegets it. But I'll not stand for any killing from ambush, and nokilling of any kind unless it has to be. Understand?"
"That sounds to me," purred the smaller man in the Western slang thatphrased incredulity. Then, suddenly, he foamed at the mouth. "Keepout of this if you're squeamish. Let me play out the hand. I'll bumphim off _pronto_."
"No, Jess."
"What do you think I am?" screamed Tighe. "Seventeen years I've beenhog-tied to this house because of Beaudry. Think I'm going to miss mychance now? If he was Moody and Sankey rolled into one, I'd go throughwith it. And what is he--a spy come up here to gather evidence againstyou and me! Didn't he creep into your house so as to sell you out whenhe got the goods? Hasn't he lied from start to finish?"
"Maybe so. But he has no proof against us yet. We'll kick him out ofthe park. I'm not going to have his blood on my conscience. That'sflat, Jess."
The eyes in the bloodless face of the other man glittered, but he put acurb on his passion. "What about me, Hal? I've waited half a lifetimeand now my chance has come. Have you forgot who made me the misshapedthing I am? I haven't. I'll go through hell to fix Beaudry's cub theway he did me." His voice shook from the bitter intensity of hisfeeling.
Rutherford paced up and down the room in a stress of sentiency. "No,Jess. I know just how you feel, but I'm going to give this kid hischance. We gunned Beaudry because he wouldn't let us alone. Either heor a lot of us had to go. But I'll say this. I never was satisfiedwith the way we did it. When Jack Beaudry shot you up, he was fightingfor his life. We attacked him. You got no right to hold it againsthis son."
"I don't ask you to come in. I'll fix his clock all right."
"Nothing doing. I won't have it." Rutherford, by a stroke ofstrategy, carried the war into the country of the other. "I gave wayto you about Dingwell, though I hated to try that Indian stuff on him.He's a white man. I've always liked him. It's a rotten business."
"What else can you do? We daren't turn him loose. You don't want togun him. There is nothing left but to tighten the thumbscrews."
"It won't do any good," protested the big man with a frown. "He'sgame. He'll go through. . . . And if it comes to a showdown, I won'thave him starved to death."
Tighe looked at him through half-hooded, cruel eyes. "He'll weaken.Another day or two will do it. Don't worry about Dingwell."
"There's not a yellow streak in him. You haven't a chance to make himquit." Rutherford took another turn up and down the room diagonally."I don't like this way of fighting. It's--damnable, man! I won't haveany harm come to Dave or to the kid either. I stand pat on that, Jess."
The man with the crutches swallowed hard. His Adam's apple moved upand down like an agitated thermometer. When he spoke it was in asmooth, oily voice of submission, but Rutherford noticed that therapacious eyes were hooded.
"What you say goes, Hal. You're boss of this round-up. I was jesttelling you how it looked to me."
"Sure. That's all right, Jess. But you want to remember that publicsentiment is against us. We've pretty near gone our limit up here. Ifthere was no other reason but that, it would be enough to make us letthis young fellow alone. We can't afford a killing in the park now."
Tighe assented, almost with servility. But the cattleman carried awaywith him a conviction that the man had yielded too easily, that hisrestless brain would go on planning destruction for young Beaudry justthe same.
He was on his way up Chicito Canon and he stopped at Rothgerber's ranchto see Beaudry. The young man was not at home.
"He start early this morning to canfass for his vindmill," the oldGerman explained.
After a moment's thought Rutherford left a message. "Tell him it isn'tsafe for him to stay in the park; that certain parties know who 'R.B.'is and will sure act on that information. Say I said for him to comeand see me as soon as he gets back. Understand? Right away when hereaches here."
The owner of the horse ranch left his mount in the Rothgerber corraland passed through the pasture on foot to Chicito. Half an hour laterhe dropped into the _jacal_ of Meldrum.
He found the indomitable Dingwell again quizzing Meldrum about hisresidence at Santa Fe during the days he wore a striped uniform. Theformer convict was grinding his teeth with fury.
"I reckon you won't meet many old friends when you go back this time,Dan. Maybe there will be one or two old-timers that will know you, butit won't be long b
efore you make acquaintances," Dave consoled him.
"Shut up, or I'll pump lead into you," he warned hoarsely.
The cattleman on the bed shook his head. "You'd like to fill me fullof buckshot, but it wouldn't do at all, Dan. I'm the goose that laysthe golden eggs, in a way of speaking. Gun me, and it's good-bye tothat twenty thousand in the gunnysack." He turned cheerfully toRutherford, who was standing in the doorway. "Come right in, Hal.Glad to see you. Make yourself at home."
"He's deviling me all the time," Meldrum complained to the owner of thehorse ranch. "I ain't a-going to stand it."
Rutherford looked at the prisoner, a lean, hard-bitten Westerner withmuscles like steel ropes and eyes unblinking as a New Mexico sun. Hisengaging recklessness had long since won the liking of the leader ofthe Huerfano Park outlaws.
"Don't bank on that golden egg business, Dave," advised Rutherford."If you tempt the boys enough, they're liable to forget it. You'vebeen behaving mighty aggravating to Dan."
"Me!" Dave opened his eyes in surprise. "I was just asking him howhe'd like to go back to Santa Fe after you-all turn me loose."
"We're not going to turn you loose till we reach an agreement. What'sthe use of being pigheaded? We're looking for that gold and we'regoing to find it mighty soon. Now be reasonable."
"How do you know you're going to find it?"
"Because we know you couldn't have taken it far. Here's the point.You had it when Fox made his getaway. Beulah was right behind you, sowe know you didn't get a chance to bury it between there and town. Wecovered your tracks and you didn't leave the road in that half-mile.That brings you as far as Battle Butte. You had the gunnysack when youcrossed the bridge. You didn't have it when Slim Sanders met you. Soyou must have got rid of it in that distance of less than a quarter ofa mile. First off, I figured you dropped the sack in Hague's alfalfafield. But we've tramped that all over. It's not there. Did you meetsome one and give it to him? Or how did you get rid of it?"
"I ate it," grinned Dingwell confidentially.
"The boys are getting impatient, Dave. They don't like the way youbutted in."
"That's all right. You're responsible for my safety, Hal. I'll letyou do the worrying."
"Don't fool yourself. We can't keep you here forever. We can't letyou go without an agreement. Figure out for yourself what's likely tohappen?"
"Either my friends will rescue me, or else I'll escape."
"Forget it. Not a chance of either." Rutherford stopped, struck by anidea. "Ever hear of a young fellow called Cherokee Street?"
"No. Think not. Is he a breed?"
"White man." Rutherford took a chair close to Dingwell. He leanedforward and asked another question in a low voice. "Never happened tomeet the son of John Beaudry, did you?"
Dingwell looked at him steadily out of narrowed eyes. "I don't getyou, Hal. What has he got to do with it?"
"Thought maybe you could tell me that. He's in the park now."
"In the park?"
"Yes--and Jess Tighe knows it."
"What's he doing here?"
But even as he asked the other man, Dingwell guessed the answer. Notan hour before he had caught a glimpse of a white, strained face at thewindow. He knew now whose face it was.
"He's spying on us and sleuthing for evidence to send us to the pen.Think he'd be a good risk for an insurance company?"
Dave thought fast. "I don't reckon you're right. I put the kidthrough law school. My friends have likely sent him up here to lookfor me."
Rutherford scoffed. "Nothing to that. How could they know you arehere? We didn't advertise it."
"No-o, but--" Dingwell surrendered the point reluctantly. He flasheda question at Rutherford. "Tighe will murder him. That's sure. Yougoing to let him?"
"Not if I can help it. I'm going to send young Beaudry out of thepark."
"Fine. Don't lose any time about it, Hal."
The Huerfano Park rancher made one more attempt to shake his prisoner.His dark eyes looked straight into those of Dingwell.
"Old-timer, what about you? I ain't enjoying this any more than youare. But it's clear out of my hands."
"Then why worry?" asked Dingwell, a little grin on his drawn face.
"Hell! What's the use of asking that? I'm no Injun devil," barkedRutherford irritably.
"Turn me loose and I'll forget all I've seen. I won't give you theloot, but I'll not be a witness against you."
The Huerfano Park ranchman shook his head. "No, we want that gold,Dave. You butted into our game and we won't stand for that."
"I reckon we can't make a deal, Hal."
The haggard eyes of the starving man were hard as tungsten-washedsteel. They did not yield a jot.
A troubled frown dragged together the shaggy eyebrows of Rutherford ashe snapped out his ultimatum.
"I like you, Dave. Always have. But you're in one hell of a hole.Don't feed yourself any fairy tales. Your number is chalked up, myfriend. Unless you come through with what we want, you'll never leavehere alive. I can't save you. There's only one man can--and that isyour friend David Dingwell."
The other man did not bat an eyelid. "Trying to pass the buck, Hal?You can't get away with it--not for a minute." A gay little smile ofderision touched his face. "I'm in your hands completely. I'll nottell you a damn thing. What are you going to do about it? No, don'ttell me that Meldrum and Tighe will do what has to be done. You're thehigh mogul here. If they kill me, Hal Rutherford will be my murderer.Don't forget that for a second."
Rutherford carried home with him a heavy heart. He could see no wayout of the difficulty. He knew that neither Meldrum nor Tighe wouldconsent to let Dingwell go unless an agreement was first reached.There was, too, the other tangle involving young Beaudry. Perhaps healso would be obstinate and refuse to follow the reasonable course.
Beulah met him on the road. Before they had ridden a hundred yards,her instinct told her that he was troubled.
"What is it, dad?" she asked.
He compromised with himself and told her part of what was worrying him."It's about your friend Street. Jess had him looked up in Denver. Thefellow turns out to be a Royal Beaudry. You've heard of a sheriff ofthat name who used to live in this country? . . . Well, this is hisson."
"What's he doing here?"
"Trying to get us into trouble, I reckon. But that ain't the point.I'm not worrying about what he can find out. Fact is that Tighe isrevengeful. This boy's father crippled him. He wants to get even onthe young fellow. Unless Beaudry leaves the park at once, he'll nevergo. I left word at Rothgerber's for him to come down and see me soonas he gets home."
"Will he come?" she asked anxiously.
"I don't know. If not I'll go up and fetch him. I don't trust Jess abit. He'll strike soon and hard."
"Don't let him, dad," the girl implored.
The distressed eyes of the father rested on her. "You like this youngfellow, honey?" he asked.
She flamed. "I hate him. He abused our hospitality. He lied to usand spied on us. I wouldn't breathe the same air he does if I couldhelp it. But we can't let him be killed in cold blood."
"That's right, Boots. Well, he'll come down to-day and I'll pack himback to Battle Butte. Then we'll be shet of him."
Beulah passed the hours in a fever of impatience. She could not keepher mind on the children she was teaching. She knew Tighe. Thedecision of her father to send Beaudry away would spur the cripple toswift activity. Up at Rothgerber's Jess could corner the man and workhis vengeance unhampered. Why did not the spy come down to the horseranch? Was it possible that his pride would make him neglect thewarning her father had left? Perhaps he would think it only a trap tocatch him.
Supper followed dinner, and still Beaudry had not arrived. From theporch Beulah peered up the road into the gathering darkness. Herfather had been called away. Her brothers were not at home. The girlcould stand it no longer. She went to the s
table and saddled Blacky.
Five minutes later she was flying up the road that led to theRothgerber place.