Chapter XXXIII
The Round-Up
Dumont had been on the grill for three hours. He had taken refuge indogged silence. He had been badgered into lies. He had broken down atlast and told the truth. Sheriff Billie Prince, keen as a hound on thescent, persistent as a bulldog, peppered the man's defense with amachine-gun fire of questions. Back of these loomed the shadow of along term in the penitentiary.
For Dumont had been caught with his iron hot. The acrid smell of burntflesh was still in the air when an angry cattleman and two of his riderscame on the man and the rustled calf. Fortunately for the thief thesheriff happened to be in the neighborhood. He had rescued the capturedwaddy from the hands of the incensed ranchers and brought him straight toLive-Oaks.
The rustler was frightened. There had been a bad quarter of an hour whenit looked as though he might be the central figure in a lynching. Evenafter this danger had been weathered, the outlook was full of gloom. Hehad to choose between a long prison sentence and the betrayal of hiscomrades. Dumont had no iron in his blood. He dodged and evaded andbluffed--and at last threw up his hands. If the sheriff would protect himfrom the vengeance of the gang, he would give any information wantedor do anything he was told to do.
The arrival of Reb and his prisoner interrupted the quiz. Prince hadDumont returned to his cell and took up the new business of Roush and hisstory. The sheriff knew he would be blamed for the escape of Clanton andhe thought it wise to have the whole matter opened up before witnesses.Wallace Snaith and Dad Wrayburn both happened to be in town and Billiesent the boss mule-skinner to bring them. To these men he turned over theexamination of Roush.
They wrung from him, a scrap at a time, the story Yankie had told hisconfederates at the camp-fire. A statement of the facts was drawn upand signed by Roush under protest. It was witnessed by the four menpresent.
Devil Dave was locked up and Dumont brought back to the office of thesheriff. Taken by surprise at the new form of the questionnaire, alreadybroken in spirit and therefore eager to conciliate these powerfulcitizens, the rustler at once corroborated the story of Roush. He, too,signed a statement drawn up by Prince.
"Just shows, doggone it, how a man can be too blamed sure," commentedWrayburn. "I'd 'a' bet my life Go-Get-'Em Jim killed Webb. But hedidn't. It's plain enough now. After his rookus with the old man, Yankiemust have got a seventy-three an' waited in the chaparral. It justhappened he was lyin' hid close to where we met Clanton. It beats theDutch."
"An' if Jim hadn't escaped he'd have been hanged for killin' Webb."
"That's right, sheriff. On my testimony, too. Say, let me go to theGovernor with these papers an' git the pardon. I'd like to give it to theboy myself, jest to show him there's no hard feelin's," urged Wrayburn.
"That's all right, Dad. I'm goin' to be right busy this next week, Ishouldn't wonder. I've got business up in the hills."
"If you're goin' on a round-up, I hope you make a good gather, Prince,"said Snaith, smiling.
Not in the history of Washington County had there been another such around-up as this one of which Sheriff Prince was the boss. He made hisplans swiftly and thoroughly. His posses were to sweep the countrybetween Saco de Oro Creek and Caballero Canon. Every gap was to bestopped, every exit guarded. Dumont, much against his will, rode besidethe sheriff as guide. Goodheart had charge of the first party that wentout. His duty was to swing round and close the gulches to the north. Herehe would wait until the hunted men were driven into the trap he had set.Old Reb, with a second posse, started next morning for the head-watersof Seven-Mile Creek. An hour later the sheriff himself took the road. Heleft town sooner than he had intended because Roush had escaped duringthe night and was probably on his way into the hills to warn therustlers.
Get them in a talkative mood and old-timers who took part in it willstill tell the story of that man-drive in the mountains. Riders combedthe draws and the buttes, eyes and ears alert for those who might liehidden on the rim rocks or in the cactus. It was grim business. Drivenout of their holes, the rustlers fought savagely. One, trapped in a hillpocket, stood off a posse till he was shot to death. A second waswounded, captured, and sent back with two other suspects to Live-Oaks.At the end of a week Prince had the remnant of the band surrounded in amountain park close to Caballero Canon.
The country into which the outlaws had been driven was an ideal terrainfor defense. The brush was thick and tall. Two wooded arroyos gashed therim of the valley and ran down into the basin. An attack againstdetermined men here was bound to prove costly.
Billie knew that three men lay in the chaparral and he believed that oneof them at least was wounded. Old Reb had jumped them up from a firelesscamp, and in their hurry to escape the outlaws had left all theirprovisions and two of their horses. They left, too, one of the posse witha bullet hole in his forehead. The sheriff's plan was to tighten thelines gradually and starve out the rustlers.
But though Prince would not let his men advance to a general assault, hemade up his mind to find out more as to the condition of the men he hadsurrounded. He wanted to make sure they had not slipped past his guardsinto Caballero Canon. In the back of his head, too, was the feeling thatif he could get into touch with them, perhaps he might arrange for asurrender.
He called Goodheart to one side. "As soon as it's dark I'm goin' in tofind out what's doin'. We haven't heard a murmur from these birds forhours. Perhaps they've flown. Anyhow, I'm goin' to find out."
"How many of us are goin'?"
"Just one of us--Billie Prince."
"If two of us went--"
"It would double the chances of discovery. No, I'm goin' alone. Maybe Ican have a talk with Albeen or Yankie. I don't want to take 'em dead, butalive."
"They'll probably get you while you're in there, Prince."
"I don't think it. But if I'm not back by mornin' you are in charge ofthis hunt. Use yore judgment."
The deputy ventured one more protest, but his chief vetoed it. Billie haddecided what to do and argument did not touch him.
He did not take a rifle. In the thick brush it would be hard to handlenoiselessly and the snapping of a twig might mean the difference betweenlife and death. The sheriff slipped into the tangle of cat-claw, pricklypear, and mesquite, vanishing into the gloom from the sight of Goodheart.
On the back of an envelope Dumont had drawn for him a rough map of thevalley. It showed that the wooded arroyos ran together like the spokes ofa wheel. The judgment of Prince was that he must look for the men hewanted close to the angle of intersection. Up one or the other of thesedraws it was likely they would make their dash for freedom, sinceotherwise they would have to emerge into the open. Therefore, they wouldhold the base of the V in order not to be cut off from the chance ofgetting out of the trap.
The sheriff snaked forward, most of the time on his stomach or on handsand knees, for what seemed an interminable period. Each least movementhad to be planned and executed with precision. He dared not risk thecracking of a dead branch or the rustle of dry foliage. As silently asan Apache he wriggled through the grass.
Billie became aware of a sound to the left. He listened. It presentlydefined itself as a wheezing rattle halfway between a cough and a groan.
Toward it Prince deflected. He knew himself to be now in the acute dangerzone, and he increased if possible his precautions. The moaning continuedintermittently. Billie wondered why, if this were the camp of theoutlaws, no other sound broke the stillness. Closer, inch by inch, makingthe most of every bunch of yucca and cholla, the officer slowly crept.
The figure of a man lay in the sand, the head resting on a foldedslicker. From time to time it moved slightly, and always the restlessnesswas accompanied by the little throat rattle that had first attracted theattention of the sheriff. The face, lying full in the moonlight, was of aghastly pallor.
Prince lay crouched behind a pinon till he was sure the man was alone. Itwas possible that his confederates might return at any moment, but Billiecould not let him suffer withou
t aid. He stepped forward, revolver inhand, every sense ready for instant response.
The wounded man was Joe Yankie. The experienced eyes of Prince told himthat the rustler had not long to live. He was already in that twilightregion which is the border land between the known and the unknown. Billiespoke his name, and for a moment the eyes of the man cleared.
"Yore boys got me when they jumped our camp," he explained feebly.
"Sorry, Joe. You were firin' when they hit you."
The wounded man nodded. "'S all right. Streak o' bad luck. Gimme water.I'm on fire," The officer unbuckled his canteen, lifted the head of thedying man, and let the water trickle down his throat. Gently he loweredthe head again to the pillow.
Then he asked a question. "Where are Albeen and--Roush?"
The last name was a shot in the dark, but it hit the bull's eye.
"Left--hours ago,"
Yankie closed his eyes wearily, but by sheer strength of will Princerecalled him from the doze into which he was slipping.
"Did you kill Homer Webb?"
"Yes."
"Had Clanton anything to do with it?"
"No."
A film gathered over the eyes of the dying man. The lids closed. Billieadjusted the pillow a little more comfortably and rose. He could do nomore for him at present and he must set about his work. For though thenet of the round-up had gathered hundreds of stolen cattle and most ofthose engaged in the business of brand-blotting, Prince knew his jobwould not be finished if Roush and Albeen escaped.
He quartered over the ground foot by foot. The camp of the rustlers hadbeen here and the footsteps showed there had been three. Yankie wasaccounted for. That left Roush and Albeen. The sheriff discovered theplace where they had been sleeping.
His eyes lit with the eagerness of the hunter who has come on the spoor.He had found two sets of tracks leading from the bed-ground. One of theseshowed no heel marks and the deep impress of toes in the soft sand. Theother presented a more sharply defined print with a greater distancebetween the steps. They told Billie a story of a man tiptoeing away inbreathless silence, and of another man, wakened by some sound or by somepremonition, pursuing him in reckless haste.
The imagination of the trailer built up a web of cause and effect. Twomen, with only one horse, were caught in a trap from which both were in adesperate hurry to escape. Each, no doubt, was filled with suspicion ofthe other while they waited for darkness to fall that they might try toslip through the cordon of watchers. One of the at least, was unknown. Ifhe could make a get-away, _and leave no witness behind_, there would beno proof positive that he was one of the rustlers. The situation was ripefor tragedy.
In the back of the sheriff's mind rose thoughts of something sinisterthat had happened in the early hours of darkness. A chill ran down hisspine. He expected presently to stumble across something cold and chillthat only a little while ago had been warm with life.
Prince recognized a weakness in his theory. If Roush was the man who hadtiptoed toward the horse in the pines, why had he not made sure firstby shooting Albeen while he slept? There was no absolute answer to that.But it might be that the one-armed man had been dozing lightly and thatRoush had not the nerve to take a chance. For if his first shot failed tokill, the betrayed man could still drop him.
The trailer had no doubt in his mind that Roush was the man who had triedto slip away to the horse. Albeen was a gun-fighter, quick on the shoot,hasty of temper, but with the reputation of being both game and stanch.It would not be in character for him to leave a companion in the lurch.
In the scrub pines at the foot of the arroyo Prince found the place wherea horse had been tied. The footprints had diverged sharply toward aduster of big boulders that rose in the grove. Billie did not at oncefollow them. He wanted to make sure of another point first.
Every sense alert against a possible surprise, he studied the groundaround the spot where the bronco had been fastened. One set of trackscame straight from the big rocks to the hitching tree. Here all tracksended, except those of a galloping horse and the ones made by the man whohad originally left the animal here.
One man had gone up the arroyo to slip through or to fight his way out ofthe trap. The other man had stayed here. The officer knew what he wouldfind lying among the big rocks.
The body lay face down, a revolver close to the still hand. Threechambers of it had been fired. Prince turned over the heavy torso andlooked into the contorted face of Dave Roush.
The man had fallen a victim to his own treachery.
Chapter XXXIV
Primrose Paths
When Billie Prince had finished the job that had been given him to do, hewent back quietly to Live-Oaks without knowing that he had led the lastcampaign of a revolution in the social life of Washington County. Becausea strong, determined man had carried law into the mesquite, citizenscould henceforth go about their business without fear or dread.
The rule of the "bad man" was over. Revolvers were no longer a part ofthe necessary wearing apparel of gentlemen of spirit. Life became safeand humdrum. The frontier world gave itself to ploughing fields andbuilding fences and digging irrigation ditches and planting orchards. Asa corollary it married and reared children and built little redschoolhouses.
But before all this came to pass some details had to be arranged in thelives of certain young people of the country. In one instance, at least,Lee Snaith appointed herself adjuster in behalf of Cupid.
Goodheart reached town a few hours earlier than his chief. Lee met himjust before supper in front of the court-house.
"Where's Billie?" she asked with characteristic directness.
"He's on his way back. A wounded man couldn't be moved an' he had to staywith him a while. The man was Joe Yankie. A messenger just got in to sayhe died."
"Billie isn't wounded?"
"No. Not his fault, though. When we had the rustlers cornered, he crawledin through the brush to their camp. Fool business, I told him. Never sawanything gamer. Lucky for him Albeen had made his get-away."
The eyes of the girl thanked the deputy for this indirect praise. Littlepatches of red burned in her dusky cheeks. The way to make a life friendof her was to be fond of Billie.
Lee changed the subject abruptly. "Jack, you haven't half the sense Ithought you had."
"Much obliged," he answered sardonically. She was looking straight at himand he knew what was in her mind.
"If I was a man--and if the nicest girl in the world was in love withme--I'd try not to be as stiff as a poker."
"I'm as stiff as a poker, am I?"
"Yes." The dark eyes of the young woman were eager pools of light. "She'sthe truest-hearted girl I ever saw--the best friend, the loyalestcomrade. I should think you'd be ashamed to set yourself up to judgeher."
"Of course, you're not settin' yourself up to judge _me_, Lee?"
"I'm going to tell you what I think. The others are afraid of you becauseyou can put on that high-and-mighty, stand-offish air. Well, I'm not."
"I see you're not."
"She told me all about it. Since she was Polly Roubideau she had to helpJim escape. Can't you see that? She knew he was innocent, and it turnedout she was right. Suppose she made a mistake--and I don't admit it for aminute. Can't you make allowance for other folks' judgment beingdifferent from yours? Are you never wrong yourself?"
"It isn't a question of judgment."
He hesitated and decided to say no more. How could he tell Lee thatPauline had deliberately misled him to give Clanton a better chance ofescape? He had fought it out a hundred times in his mind, but he couldnot escape the conviction that she had made a tool of his love.
The girl went to the heart of the matter. "Polly loves you, and she isbreaking her heart because of your wretched pride. If you don't gostraight to her and beg her pardon for your want of faith in her, you'renot half the man I think you are, Jack Goodheart."
A warm glow of hope flushed through his blood.
"How do you know she loves me?"
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"Because--because--" Lee stopped. She did not intend to betray anyconfidences. "I know it. That's enough."
He threw away impulsively the prudent pride that he had been nourishing."Where can I find Polly?"
"You're being invited to supper at my aunt's this evening. I'll not behome for half an hour, but if you go right up, maybe you can find someone to entertain you."
He buried her little hand in his big paw and strode away. She watchedhim, a soft tenderness shining in her eyes. Lee was a lover herself, andshe wanted everybody in the world to be as happy as she was.
Two horsemen rode down the street toward her. She looked up. One of themwas Billie Prince, the other Jim Clanton.
The younger man gave a shout of gay greeting. "Yip-ee yippy yip." Heleaned from the cowpony and gave her his gloved hand. "I've brought himback to you. He sure did make a good clean-up. I'm the only bad man leftin Washington County."
She met his impudent little smile with friendly eyes. "Dad Wrayburn'sback from Santa Fe with the pardon, Jim. I'm so glad."
"I'm some glad myself. Do you want me to shut my eyes whilst you an'Billie--"
The sheriff knocked the rest of the sentence out of him with a vigorousthump on the back.
While Lee and her lover shook hands their eyes held fast to each other.
"Good to see you, Billie," she said.
"Same here, Lee."
"When you and Jim have put up your horses I want you to come up to aunt'sfor supper."
"We'll be there."
It was not a very gay little supper. Pauline and Jack Goodheart had verylittle to say for themselves, but in their eyes were bright pools ofhappiness. Clanton sustained the burden of the talk, assisted in adesultory fashion by Lee and Billie. But there was so much quiet joy atthe table that for years the hour was one fenced off from all the othersof their lives. Even Jim, who for the first time felt himself almost anoutsider, since he did not belong to the close communion of lovers, couldfind plenty for which to be thankful.
He made an announcement before he left. "There's no room here for me nowthat you lads are marryin' all my girls. I'm goin' to hit the trail. It'sTexas for me. I've got a letter in my pocket offerin' me a job as aRanger an' I'm goin' to take it."
They shook hands with him in warm congratulation. Their friend was nolonger a killer. He had definitely turned his back on lawlessness andwould henceforth walk with the law. The problem of what was to become ofGo-Get-'Em Jim was solved.
As to the problem of their own futures, that did not disturb these happyegoists in the least. Life beckoned them to primrose paths. It is thegood fortune of lovers that their vision never pierces the shadows inwhich lie the sorrows of the years and the griefs that wear them gray.
THE END
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