CHAPTER XI
MADE PRISONER
At three o'clock the next afternoon Beef Bissell felt better than he hadfor some time, this condition being a result of his vindictive triumphover Bud Larkin, and the fact that that young man was in his hands. Hefelt that the back of the sheep business had been broken as far as hisrange and his county were concerned.
I have put the opening of this chapter at three o'clock, because that wasthe hour at which life began to be manifest at the Bar T ranch after thestirring events of the night before. Bud Larkin himself, worn out with hisnights and days of vigil, had gone to sleep on his bed almost in the actof taking his boots off. Vague ideas of escape had coursed through hismind only to be overtaken and killed by the slumber he had evaded for solong.
His window faced southwest, and when he awoke it was to find the dazzlinggold of the sun warming his face. For a moment he did not realize wherehe was, staring thus into the blinding radiance; but memory is only a fewseconds sleepier than its master, and shortly everything came back tohim.
A sinking sensation came over him as he remembered the wanton slaughter ofhis sheep, more because of the helpless agony of the poor dumb brutes thanbecause of the monetary loss, although the latter was no triflingconsideration, since nearly eight thousand dollars had been wiped out inless than half an hour.
Added to this sickening sensation was one of dull, choking rage thatBissell, a man of wealth and certain prominence in the State, shouldsuggest and pursue a course that the most despised sheep-herder wouldnever countenance. That, Larkin told himself, showed the real man; therough, crude product of a rough and bitter country.
For the slogan of the earlier West was selfishness.
"All this is mine and don't you come a-nigh me!" bawled the cowman whenthe nesters or grangers began to make their appearance.
The cowboy himself was the chief exponent of this philosophy. Restraintwas unknown to him--his will was his law, and he tried to make it everyoneelse's. When thousands of men have the same idea the result is trouble;hence the practice of cluttering up one's person with artillery.
The one person for whom the cow-puncher had no respect and for whom thecow country was no fit abiding place was the man who allowed himself to bedomineered. For that man convict-labor on a coral road would have beenparadise compared to his ordinary existence.
Thus was the West the supreme abode at that time of the selfists oranarchists who have no thought or consideration outside their own narrowmotives and desires.
Though Bud Larkin could not have analyzed his feelings in words, perhaps,yet he felt this keenly, and knew that now or never must he take his standand keep it. He labored under the double handicap, in this country, ofhaving gone in for sheep and having been beaten at it the very firstthing. Consequently, if he ever expected to gain any caste, or at least ahearing, he must turn the tables and that as soon as possible.
At the present moment, as he washed his face in the thick white wash-bowlthat made the guest-room of the Bar T celebrated for leagues around, hehad nothing but the remotest ideas of how this might be done. The fact, inbrief, was that his sheep were and would continue piling up in the hillsnorth of the Badwater, ready to enter the hazardous stretch of dryterritory that had so nearly been disastrous to his first flock.
Until he should be free and could reconnoiter his chances and resources hewould hesitate to order them sent north. And yet they could not stayforever near the Badwater. Neither could they be halted on their marchnorth, because they were crossing the range of Wyoming sheepmen at thetime and common plains courtesy demanded that they be removed as fast aspossible.
But for the fact that Sims was in personal charge Bud Larkin would havebeen in utter despair. Such was his confidence in his indolent herdsmanthat he felt that though ultimate failure attended their efforts no blamecould ever be attached to Sims.
Leaving the guest-chamber, Larkin immediately stepped into the dining-roomand the gloomy thoughts fled, for there sat Juliet near the window,sewing. She greeted him with a smile and immediately rose.
"Well, Mr. Man, I thought you would never wake up," she remarked in mockreproof. "I've been waiting here since dinner to see that you hadsomething to eat when you came out. You must be wild hungry."
"I could eat a saddle," said Larkin.
"Sorry, but the saddles are all out," she replied with a smile. "However,we have some nice fresh broiled quirts, garnished with rawhide."
"Bring me a double order," said Bud, laughing, as he seated himself.
When he was almost through with his meal Juliet remarked:
"Father asked me to say that he would like to have a talk with you on theveranda when you were ready."
"I'll go right out," he answered, thanking her for the trouble she hadtaken.
He found Bissell seated in one of the big chairs outside, and took theother. Both men rolled a cigarette and then Bissell spoke.
"I owe you a great deal, Larkin, for saving my daughter last night," hesaid with genuine emotion in his voice. "Under the circumstances I amsorry for what I did, and wish I had it to do over again."
"As for the first, I don't deserve much credit. Juliet really saved herown life by coming to us when I fired the warning shot. As to the sheep,it's too late to think about them now; we'll come to another reckoning inthat matter later on. I'd hardly expect a horse-thief to do a trick likethat."
Bissell's tanned face turned a deep mahogany hue under the sting of thisremark, and his eyes lost the soft look they had held when he spoke ofJuliet.
"I'm willing to pay yuh the money loss," he replied, still anxious to makeamends.
"On guarantee, I suppose, that I don't try to bring the rest of my sheepnorth."
"Yes."
"That's impossible, as you might know."
"I allow you're right foolish, Mr. Larkin; better think it over."
"I did that last night when the sheep went into the river," said Buddryly.
"I suppose so, but a night's sleep sometimes changes a man's mind."
"Not mine. The first night I was here I told you that I would bring mysheep north, and I still intend to do it. I am always willing to meet aman half-way; but you wouldn't meet me. Instead of that you started in toruin me. I have no objection to that, but you'd better take care that yourschemes don't work two ways."
Bissell shrugged his shoulders. He still had the upper-hand of thesituation, and his temper, in that case, was not hard to control.
"I allow I can look out for myself," he said.
"No doubt, but you had better look out for me," was the retort.
"I reckon I'll manage," remarked Bissell contemptuously. "But all thisisn't what I wanted to ask you. I'd be some pleased if you'd tell me aboutthem rustlers you were with."
"Why do you want to know about them?" countered Bud.
"Because they're ruinin' the cattle business. I dunno how many head theyrun off last year, but I do know that profits were cut in half by 'em. Youwas with 'em long enough to know some of 'em again, I allow?"
"Yes. I would know nearly all of them. What's left of three is out therenear the cottonwoods along Little River, but I don't believe there'senough to bury."
"How is that?" inquired Bissell, who had evidently not heard of Larkin'snarrow escape from death at the rustler's hands.
Bud told him briefly.
"You shore were lucky," remarked the cowman with a Westerner'sappreciation of the situation. "Now, I'm the head of the cattlemen'sassociation in this part of the State, and o' course it's our business toclear the country of those devils. You're just the man we want, becauseyou've seen 'em and know who they are. You tell me what yuh know andthere'll be the biggest hangin' bee this State ever seen."
As has been said, Bud Larkin had the legitimate owner's hatred of thesethieves who preyed on the work of honest men, and had sworn to help runthem out of the country as soon as his own business was finished. Now, inthe flash of an eye he saw where he could turn the knowledge he had gainedto goo
d account.
"You have rather queer ideas of me, Mr. Bissell," he said. "First, youfight me until I am nearly ruined, then you expect I will turn around andhelp you just as though nothing had happened."
"But in this," cried the cowman, "you've got to help us. This is alloutside of a war between the cows and the sheep. This is a matter of rightand justice."
"So is the matter of my sheep. The range is free and you won't let me useit. Do you call that right or just, either one?"
Bissell choked on his own reply, and grew red with anger. Suddenly,without exactly knowing how, the tables had been turned on him. Now,instead of being the mighty baron with the high hand, he was the seekerfor help, and this despised sheepman held the trump cards.
Furthermore, Larkin's direct question was capable of a damaging reply.Bissell sought desperately for a means of escape from the trap in which hefound himself.
"Do you mean, young feller, that you won't tell me about them rustlers?"
"That's about it. But I might on one condition."
"What's that?"
"That your cattlemen's association give the rest of my sheep undisturbedpassage north across the range to Montana."
"By gosh!" yelled the cowman, beside himself, springing out of his chairand glaring at the other with clenched hands on his hips. "That's yourgame, is it? Yuh pull our teeth an' then offer us grub, eh? Why, tan myhide--" he gagged with wrath and stood speechless, a picture of impotentfury.
Larkin laughed quietly.
"The shoe's on the other foot, but it doesn't seem to feel any too good,"he sneered. "Better be reasonable now, hadn't you?"
"Reasonable? Sure, I'll be reasonable!" cried the other vindictively,almost suffocated with his emotion. "Let me ask yuh something. Do youabsolutely refuse to tell about them rustlers if I don't do as you wantand let your sheep through?"
"Well, not exactly," replied Bud, grinning. "I'll tell you this: they'regoing to run off a hundred head or so of your stock yet this week for therailroad camps up the State. I think it's fair to give you warningbeforehand."
"Darn you and your warning! What I want is the names and descriptions ofthem men. Will yuh give 'em to me?"
"No, not unless we can strike a bargain. You talk about right and justice.Now let's see a little of it," answered Larkin.
"All right, young feller, you've said your say. Now listen to me. I'm adeputy sheriff in this county"--he ripped open his vest and showed thebadge pinned to the inside lining--"an' I hereby arrest yuh for bein' aparty to them rustlers. Yer either a criminal or yuh ain't, accordin' toour notions out here, an' if yuh wun't help us catch yer friends thereain't nothin' more to be said. Now roll that into a cigarette an' eat italive if yuh want to."
He glared defiantly down on Larkin, whose brows had drawn together as hewent into executive session with himself.
In five seconds the situation between these men was once more reversed. Itwas not that Larkin had overreached himself; he simply had encountered acircumstance of which he was unaware. The possibility of Bissell being adeputy sheriff had never occurred to him, and now he sat balked andperplexed, balancing his chances on either hand.
It was not in the man to yield supinely to this new danger. He could noteven think of the possibility without shame. He was right, he told himselfover and over again, and, listen as he would, he could detect nocontradictory reply from the still, small voice we are all credited withpossessing.
His mission in life was to get his sheep through. In that circumstance therustlers were unexpected allies and he hoped they would put burs under thetails of every steer on the range and drive them to the Gulf of Mexico.Once his merinos and angoras were safe across the line Bud would gladlyreturn and help round them up.
The idea that he, clipped, helpless, and harmless as he was, should nowturn in and assist his despoilers to better their own fortunes was somaddening that he grinned with fury as he thought of it. No, the thing wasimpossible!
Bissell had not changed his menacing position during all of Bud Larkin'sponderings and was waiting patiently for some outbreak from his victim.But at last he could stand it no more.
"Well," he snarled, "say something! What's your answer?"
"That bargain goes as she stands," said Bud, after a moment's thought."You help me and I'll help you. Otherwise you won't get a word out of me,and you can do whatever you like."
"You're under arrest," snapped Bissell. "Give me your gun!" and he coveredBud with a single swift motion of his hand.
The younger man did as commanded and rose.
"Now go into that room; you're a prisoner," ordered Bissell.