Chapter XII
Stark Fear
When Beaudry climbed the canon wall to the Rothgerber pasture hebreathed a deep sigh of relief. For many hours he had been under aheavy strain, nerves taut as fiddle-strings. Fifty times his heart hadjumped with terror. But he had done the thing he had set out to do.
He had stiffened his flaccid will and spurred his trembling bodyforward. If he had been unable to control his fear, at least he hadnot let it master him. He had found out for Ryan where Dingwell washeld prisoner. It had been his intention to leave the park as soon ashe knew this, report the facts to the friends of Dave, and let themdevise a way of escape. He had done his full share. But he could notfollow this course now.
The need of the cattleman was urgent. Somehow it must be met at once.Yet what could he do against two armed men who would not hesitate toshoot him down if necessary? There must be some way of saving Dingwellif he could only find it.
In spite of his anxiety, a fine spiritual exaltation flooded him. Sofar he had stood the acid test, had come through without dishonor. Hemight be a coward; at least, he was not a quitter. Plenty of men wouldhave done his day's work without a tremor. What brought comfort toRoy's soul was that he had been able to do it at all.
Mrs. Rothgerber greeted him with exclamations of delight. The messageof Rutherford had frightened her even though she did not entirelyunderstand it.
"Hermann iss out looking for you. Mr. Rutherford--the one that ownsthe horse ranch--he wass here and left a message for you."
"A message for me! What was it?"
With many an "Ach!" she managed to tell him.
The face of her boarder went white. Since Rutherford was warning himagainst Tighe, the danger must be imminent. Should he go down to thehorse ranch now? Or had he better wait until it was quite dark? Whilehe was still debating this with himself, the old German came into thehouse.
"Home, eh? Gut, gut! They are already yet watching the road."
Roy's throat choked. "Who?"
This question Rothgerber could not answer. In the dusk he had notrecognized the men he had seen. Moreover, they had ridden into thebrush to escape observation. Both of them had been armed with rifles.
The old woman started to light a lamp, but Roy stopped her. "Let's eatin the dark," he proposed. "Then I'll slip out to the bunkhouse andyou can have your light."
His voice shook. When he tried to eat, his fingers could scarcely holda knife and fork. Supper was for him a sham. A steel band seemed togrip his throat and make the swallowing of food impossible. He was asunnerved as a condemned criminal waiting for the noose.
After drinking a cup of coffee, he pushed back his chair and rose.
"Petter stay with us," urged the old German. He did not know why thisyoung man was in danger, but he read in the face the stark fear of asoul in travail.
"No. I'll saddle and go down to see Rutherford. Good-night."
Roy went out of the back door and crept along the shadows of the hill.Beneath his foot a dry twig snapped. It was enough. He fledpanic-stricken, pursued by all the demons of hell his fears couldevoke. A deadly, unnerving terror clutched at his throat. Thepounding blood seemed ready to burst the veins at his temples.
The bunkhouse loomed before him in the darkness. As he plunged at thedoor a shot rang out. A bolt of fire burned into his shoulder. Heflung the door open, slammed it shut behind him, locked and bolted italmost with one motion. For a moment he leaned half swooning againstthe jamb, sick through and through at the peril he had just escaped.
But had he escaped it? Would they not break in on him and drag him outto death? The acuteness of his fright drove away the faintness. Hedragged the bed from its place and pushed it against the door. Upon ithe piled the table, the washstand, the chairs. Feverishly he worked tobarricade the entrance against his enemies.
When he had finished, his heart was beating against his ribs like thatof a wild rabbit in the hands of a boy. He looked around for thesafest place to hide. From the floor he stripped a Navajo rug andpulled up the trapdoor that led to a small cellar stairway. Down intothis cave he went, letting the door fall shut after him.
In that dark blackness he waited, a crumpled, trembling wretch, forwhatever fate might have in store for him.
How long he crouched there Beaudry never knew. At last reason asserteditself and fought back the panic. To stay where he was would be toinvite destruction. His attackers would come to the window. Thebarricaded door, the displaced rug, the trapdoor, would advertise histerror. The outlaws would break in and make an end of him.
Roy could hardly drag his feet up the stairs, so near was he tophysical collapse. He listened. No sound reached him. Slowly hepushed up the trapdoor. Nobody was in the room. He crept up, loweredthe door, and replaced the carpet. With his eyes on the window he putback the furniture where it belonged. Then, revolver in hand, he satin one corner of the room and tried to decide what he must do.
Down in the cellar he had been vaguely aware of a dull pain in hisshoulder and a wet, soggy shirt above the place. But the tenseness ofhis anxiety had pushed this into the background of his thoughts. Nowagain the throbbing ache intruded itself. The fingers of his left handsearched under his waistcoat, explored a spot that was tender andsoppy, and came forth moist.
He knew he had been shot, but this gave him very little concern. Hehad no time to worry about his actual ills, since his whole mind wasgiven to the fear of those that were impending.
Upon the window there came a faint tapping. The hand with the revolverjerked up automatically. Every muscle of Beaudry's body grew rigid.His senses were keyed to a tense alertness. He moistened his lips withhis tongue as he crouched in readiness for the attack about to break.
Again the tapping, and this time with it a quick, low, imperious call.
"Mr. Street. Are you there? Let me in!"
He knew that voice--would have known it among a thousand. In anothermoment he had raised the window softly and Beulah Rutherford wasclimbing in.
She panted as if she had been running. "They're watching the entranceto the arroyo. I came up through the canon and across the pasture,"she explained.
"Did they see you?"
"No. Think not. We must get out of here."
"How?"
"The same way I came."
"But--if they see us and shoot?"
The girl brushed his objection aside. "We can't help that. They knowyou're here, don't they?"
"Yes."
"Then they'll rush the house. Come."
Still he hesitated. At least they had the shelter of the house.Outside, if they should be discovered, they would be at the mercy ofhis foes.
"What are you waiting for?" she asked sharply, and she moved toward thewindow.
But though he recoiled from going to meet the danger, he could not leta girl lead the way. Beaudry dropped to the ground outside and stoodready to lend her a hand. She did not need one. With a twist of hersupple body Beulah came through the opening and landed lightly besidehim.
They crept back to the shadows of the hill and skirted its edge.Slowly they worked their way from the bunkhouse, making the most ofsuch cover as the chaparral afforded. Farther up they crossed the roadinto the pasture and by way of it reached the orchard. Every inch ofthe distance Roy sweated fear.
She was leading, ostensibly because she knew the lay of the landbetter. Through the banked clouds the moon was struggling. Its lightfell upon her lithe, slender figure, the beautifully poised head, thecrown of soft black hair. She moved with the grace and the rhythm of aracing filly stepping from the paddock to the track.
Beaudry had noticed, even in his anxiety, that not once since thetapping on the window had her hand touched his or the sweep of herskirt brushed against his clothes. She would save him if she could,but with an open disdain that dared him to misunderstand.
They picked their course diagonally through the orchard toward thecanon. Sud
denly Beulah stopped. Without turning, she swept her handback and caught his. Slowly she drew him to the shadow of an appletree. There, palm to palm, they crouched together.
Voices drifted to them.
"I'd swear I hit him," one said.
"Maybe you put him out of business. We got to find out," anotheranswered.
"I'll crawl up to the window and take a look," responded the first.
The voices and the sound of the man's movements died. Beulah's handdropped to her side.
"We're all right now," she said coldly.
They reached the gulch and slowly worked their way down its precipitoussides to the bottom.
The girl turned angrily on Roy. "Why didn't you come after fatherwarned you?"
"I didn't get his warning till night. I was away."
"Then how did you get back up the arroyo when it was watched?"
"I--I wasn't out into the park," he told her.
"Oh!" Her scornful gypsy eyes passed over him and wiped him from themap. She would not even comment on the obvious alternative.
"You think I've been up at Dan Meldrum's spying," he protested hotly.
"Haven't you?" she flung at him.
"Yes, if that's what you want to call it," came quickly his bitteranswer. "The man who has been my best friend is lying up there aprisoner because he knows too much about the criminals of HuerfanoPark. I heard Meldrum threaten to kill him unless he promised what waswanted of him. Why shouldn't I do my best to help the man who--"
Her voice, sharpened by apprehension, cut into his. "What man? Whoare you talking about?"
"I'm talking about David Dingwell."
"What do you mean that he knows too much? Too much about what?" shedemanded.
"About the express robbery."
"Do you mean to say that--that my people--?" She choked with anger,but back of her indignation was fear.
"I mean to say that one of your brothers was guarding Dingwell and thatlater your father went up to Meldrum's place. They are starving him toget something out of him. I serve warning on you that if they hurt myfriend--"
"Starving him!" she broke out fiercely. "Do you dare say that mypeople--my father--would torture anybody? Is that what you mean, youlying spy?"
Her fury was a spur to him. "I don't care what words you use," heflung back wildly. "They have given him no food for three days. Ididn't know such things were done nowadays. It's as bad as what theold Apaches did. It's devilish--"
He pulled himself up. What right had he to talk that way to the girlwho had just saved his life? Her people might be law-breakers, but hefelt that she was clean of any wrongdoing.
Her pride was shaken. A more immediate issue had driven it into thebackground.
"Why should they hurt him?" she asked. "If they had meant to do that--"
"Because he won't tell what he knows--where the gold is--won't promiseto keep quiet about it afterward. What else can they do? They can'tturn him loose as a witness against them."
"I don't believe it. I don't believe a word of it." Her voice broke."I'm going up to see right away."
"You mean--to-night?"
"I mean now."
She turned up the gulch instead of down. Reluctantly he followed her.