Chapter XII
The Good Samaritan
A girl astride a buckskin pony rode down to the river to water her mount.She carried across the pommel of her saddle a small rifle. Hanging fromthe cantle strings was a wild turkey she had shot.
It was getting along toward evening and she was on her way back to LosPortales. The girl was a lover of the outdoors and she had been huntingalone. In the clear, amber light of afternoon the smoke of the town rosehigh into the sky, though the trading post itself could not be seen untilshe rounded the bend.
As her horse drank, a strange thing happened. At a point directlyopposite her a bunch of tumble weeds had gathered against the bank of theshrunken stream. Something agitated them, and from among the brush thehead and shoulders of a man projected.
Without an instant of delay the girl slipped from the pony and led itbehind a clump of mesquite. Through this she peered intently, watchingevery move of the man, who had by this time come out into the open. Hewent down to the river, filled his hat with water, and disappeared amongthe tumble weeds, gathering them closely to conceal the entrance of hiscave.
The young woman remounted, rode downstream an eighth of a mile, splashedthrough to the other side, and tied her pony to a stunted live-oak. Riflein hand she crept cautiously along the bank and came to a halt behind acottonwood thirty yards from the cave. Here she waited, patiently,silently, as many a time she had done while stalking the game she wasused to hunting.
The minutes passed, ran into an hour. The westering sun slid down closeto the horizon's edge. Still the girl held her vigil. At last the brushmoved once more and the man reappeared. His glance swept the landscape,the river-bank, the opposite shore. Apparently satisfied, he came outfrom his hiding-place, and began to gather brush for a fire.
He was stooped, his back toward her, when the voice of the girl startledhim to rigidity.
"Hands in the air!"
He did not at once obey. His head turned to see who this Amazon might be.
"Can't you hear? Reach for the sky!" she ordered sharply.
She had risen and stepped from behind the tree. He could see that she wasdark, of a full, fine figure, and that her steady black eyes watched himwithout the least fear. The rifle in her hands covered him very steadily.
His hands went up, but he could not keep a little, sardonic smile fromhis face. The young woman lowered the rifle from her shoulder and movedwarily forward.
"Lie down on the sand, face to the ground, hands outstretched!" came hernext command.
Billie did as he was told. A little tug at his side gave notice to himthat she had deftly removed his revolver.
"Sit up!"
The cowpuncher sat up and took notice. Stars of excitement snapped in theeyes of this very competent young woman. The color beat warmly throughher dark skin. She was very well worth looking at.
"What's your name?" she demanded.
"My road brand is Billie Prince," he answered.
"Thought so. Where's the other man?"
He nodded toward the cave.
"Call him out," she said curtly.
"I hate to wake him. He's been wounded. All day he's been in a high feverand he's asleep at last."
For the first time her confidence seemed a little shaken. She hesitated."Is he badly hurt?"
"He'd get well if he could have proper attention, but a wounded man can'tstand to be jolted around the way he's been since he was shot."
"Do you mean that you think he's going to die?"
"I don't know." After a moment he added: "He's mighty sick."
"He ought never to have left town."
"Oughtn't he?" said Prince dryly. "If you'll inquire you'll find we had agood reason for leavin'."
"Well, you're going to have another good reason for going back," she toldhim crisply. "I'll send a buckboard for him."
"Aren't you takin' a heap of trouble on our account?" he inquiredironically.
"That's my business."
"And mine. Are you the sheriff of Washington County, ma'am?"
A pulse of anger beat in her throat. Her long-lashed eyes flashedimperiously at him. "It doesn't matter who I am. You'll march to town infront of my horse."
"Maybe so."
The voice of the sick man began to babble querulously. Both of thoseoutside listened.
"He's awake," the girl said. "Bring him out here and let me see him."
Billie had an instinct that sometimes served him well. He rose promptly.
"Para sirvir usted" ("At your service"), he murmured.
"Don't try to start anything. I'll have you covered every second."
"I believe you. It won't be necessary to demonstrate, ma'am."
The cowpuncher carried his friend out from the cave and put him downgently in the sand.
"Why, he's only a boy!" she cried in surprise.
"He was man enough to go up against half a dozen 'Paches alone to savePauline Roubideau," Billie said simply.
She looked up with quick interest. "I've heard that story. Is it true?"
"It's true. And he was man enough to fight it out to a finish against twobad men yesterday."
"But he can't be more than eighteen." She watched for a moment the flushof fever in his soft cheeks. "Did he really kill Dave and Hugh Roush?Or was it you?"
"He did it."
"I hate a killer!" she blazed unexpectedly.
"Does he look like a killer?" asked Prince gently.
"No, he doesn't. That makes it worse."
"Did you know that Dave Roush ruined his sister's life in a fiendishway?"
"I expect there's another side to that story," she retorted.
"This boy was fourteen at the time. His father swore him to vengeance an'Jim followed his enemies for years. He never had a doubt but that hewas doin' right."
She put her rifle down impulsively. "Why don't you keep his face sponged?Bring me water."
The Texan put his hat into requisition again for a bucket. With herhandkerchief the girl sponged the face and the hands. The cold waterstopped for a moment the delirious muttering of the young man. But thebig eyes that stared into hers did not associate his nurse with thepresent.
"I done remembered you, 'Lindy, like I promised. I'm a-followin' themscalawags yet," he murmured.
"His sister's name was Melindy," explained Prince.
The girl nodded. She was rubbing gently the boy's wrist with her wethandkerchief.
"It's getting dark," she told Billie in her sharp, decisive way. "Getyour fire lit--a big one. I've got some cooking to do."
Further orders were waiting for him as soon as he had the camp-firegoing. "You'll find my horse tied to a live-oak down the river a bit.Bring it up."
Billie smiled as he moved away into the darkness. This imperious girlbelonged, of course, in the camp of the enemy. She had held him up withthe intention of driving them back to town before her in triumph. But shewas, after all, a very tender-hearted foe to a man stricken withsickness. It occurred to the Texan that through her might lie a way ofsalvation for them both.
Until he saw the turkey the cowpuncher wondered what cooking she couldhave in mind, but while he cantered back through the sand he guessedwhat she meant to do.
"Draw the turkey. Don't pick it," she gave instructions. Her own handswere busy trying to make her patient comfortable.
After he had drawn the bird, which was a young, plump one, he made underdirection of the young woman a cement of mud. This he daubed in athree-inch coating over the turkey, then prepared the fire to make of itan oven. He covered the bird with ashes, raked live coals over these, andpiled upon the red-hot coals pinon knots and juniper boughs.
"Keep your fire going till about two or three o'clock, then let it dieout. In the morning the turkey will be baked," the young Diana gaveassurance.
The cowpuncher omitted to tell her that he had baked a dozen more or lessand knew all about it.
She rose and drew on her gauntlets in a business-like manner.
"I'm
going home now. After the fever passes keep him warm and let himsleep if he will."
"Yes, ma'am," promised Billie with suspicious meekness.
The girl looked at him sharply, as if she distrusted his humility. Was helaughing at her? Did he dare to find amusement in her?
"I haven't changed my mind about you. Folks that come to town and startkilling deserve all they get. But I'd look after a yellow dog if it wassick," she said contemptuously, little devils of defiance in her eyes.
"I'm not questionin' your motives, ma'am, so long as your actions arefriendly,"
"I haven't any use for any of Homer Webb's outfit. He's got no businesshere. If he runs into trouble he has only himself to blame."
"I'll mention to him that you said so."
Picking up the rifle, she turned and walked to the horse. There was alittle devil-may-care touch to her walk, just as in her manner, thatsuggested a girl spoiled by over-much indulgence. She was imperious,high-spirited, full of courage and insolence, because her environment hadmoulded her to independence. It was impossible for the young cow puncherto help admiring the girl.
"I'll be back," she called over her shoulder.
The pony jumped to a canter at the touch of her Jaeel. She disappeared ina gallop around the bend.
Already the fever of the boy was beginning to pass. He shivered with thechill of night. Billie wrapped around him his own coat, a linsey-woolenone lined with yellow flannel. He packed him up in the two blankets andheated stones for his feet and hands. Presently the boy fell into soundsleep for the first time since he was wounded. He had slept before, butalways uneasily and restlessly. Now he did not mutter between clenchedteeth nor toss to and fro.
His friend accepted it as a good omen. Since he had not slept a winkhimself for forty hours, he lay down before the fire and made himselfcomfortable His eyes closed almost immediately.