Whispering Smith

  CHAPTER XXXV

  THE CALL

  Beyond receiving reports from Kennedy and Banks, who in the intervalrode into town and rode out again on their separate and silent ways,Whispering Smith for two days seemed to do nothing. Yet instinctkeener than silence kept the people of Medicine Bend on edge duringthose two days, and when President Bucks's car came in on the eveningof the second day, the town knew from current rumors that Banks hadgone to the Frenchman ranch with a warrant on a serious charge forSinclair. In the president's car Bucks and McCloud, after a latedinner, were joined by Whispering Smith, and the president heard thefirst connected story of the events of the fortnight that had passed.Bucks made no comment until he had heard everything. "And they rodeSinclair's horses," he said in conclusion.

  "Sinclair's horses," returned Whispering Smith, "and they are allaccounted for. One horse supplied by Rebstock was shot where theycrossed Stampede Creek. It had given out and they had a fresh horsein the willows, for they shot the scrub half a mile up one of thecanyons near the crossing. The magpies attracted my attention to it. Apiece of skin a foot square had been cut out of the flank."

  "You got there before the birds."

  "It was about an even thing," said Smith. "Anyway, we were there intime to see the horse."

  "And Sinclair was away from the ranch from Saturday noon till Sundaynight?"

  "A rancher living over on Stampede Creek saw the five men when theycrossed Saturday afternoon. The fellow was scared and lied to me aboutit, but he told Wickwire who they were."

  "Now, who is Wickwire?" asked Bucks.

  "You ought to remember Wickwire, George," remarked Whispering Smith,turning to McCloud. "You haven't forgotten the Smoky Creek wreck? Doyou remember the tramp who had his legs crushed and lay in the sun allmorning? You put him in your car and sent him down here to therailroad hospital and Barnhardt took care of him. That was Wickwire.Not a bad fellow, either; he can talk pretty straight and shoot prettystraight. How do I know? Because he has told me the story and I'veseen him shoot. There, you see, is one friend that you never reckonedon. He used to be a cowboy, and I got him a job working for Sinclairon the Frenchman; he has worked at Dunning's and other places on theCrawling Stone. He hates Sinclair with a deadly hatred for somereason. Just lately Wickwire set up for himself on Little CrawlingStone."

  "I have noticed that fellow's ranch," remarked McCloud.

  "I couldn't leave him at Sinclair's," continued Whispering Smithfrankly. "The fellow was on my mind all the time. I felt certain hewould kill Sinclair or get killed if he stayed there. And then, when Itook him away they sprang Tower W on me! That is the price, not ofhaving a conscience, for I haven't any, but of listening to the voicethat echoes where my conscience used to be," said the railroad man,moving uneasily in his chair.

  Bucks broke the ash from his cigar into the tray on the table. "Youare restless to-night, Gordon--and it isn't like you, either."

  "It is in the air. There has been a dead calm for two days. Somethingis due to happen to-night. I wish I could hear from Banks; he startedwith the papers for Sinclair's yesterday while I went to Oroville tosweat Karg. Blood-poisoning has set in and it is rather important tous to get a confession. There's a horse!" He stepped to the window."Coming fast, too. Now, I wonder--no, he's gone by."

  Five minutes later a messenger came to the car from the Wickiup withword that Kennedy was looking for Whispering Smith. Bucks, McCloud,and Smith left the car together and walked up to McCloud's office.

  Kennedy, sitting on the edge of the table, was tapping his legnervously with a ruler. "Bad news, Gordon."

  "Not from Ed Banks?"

  "Sinclair got him this morning."

  Whispering Smith sat down. "Go on."

  "Banks and I picked up Wickwire on the Crawling Stone early, and werode over to the Frenchman. Wickwire said Sinclair had been up atWilliams Cache the day before, and he didn't think he was home. Ofcourse I knew the Cache was watched and he wouldn't be there long, soEd asked me to stay in the cottonwoods and watch the creek for him. Heand Wickwire couldn't find anybody home when they got to theranch-house and they rode down the corral together to look over thehorses."

  Whispering Smith's hand fell helplessly on the table. "Rode downtogether! For God's sake, why didn't _one_ of them stay at thehouse?"

  "Sinclair rode out from behind the barn and hit Wickwire in the armbefore they saw him. Banks turned and opened on him, and Wickwireducked for the creek. Sinclair put a soft bullet through Banks'sshoulder--tore it pretty bad, Gordon--and made his get-away beforeWickwire and I could reach the barn again. I got Ed on his horse andback to Wickwire's, and we sent one of the boys to Oroville for adoctor. After Banks fell out of the saddle and was helpless Sinclairtalked to him before I came up. 'You ought to have kept out of this,Ed,' he said. 'This is a railroad fight. Why didn't they send the headof their own gang after me?'--naming you." Kennedy nodded towardWhispering Smith.

  "Naming me."

  "Banks says, 'I'm sheriff of this county, and will be a long timeyet!' I took the papers from his breast pocket," continued Kennedy."You can see where he was hit." Kennedy laid the sheriff's packet onthe table. Bucks drew his chair forward and, with his cigar betweenhis fingers, picked the packet up and opened it. Kennedy went on: "Edtold Sinclair if he couldn't land him himself that he knew a man whocould and would before he was a week older. He meant you, Gordon, andthe last thing Ed told me was that he wanted you to serve the paperson Sinclair."

  A silence fell on the company. One of the documents passing underBucks's hand caught his eye and he opened it. It was the warrant forSinclair. He read it without comment, folded it, and, looking atWhispering Smith, pushed it toward him. "Then this, I guess, Gordon,belongs to you."

  Starting from a revery, Whispering Smith reached for the warrant. Helooked for a moment at the blood-stained caption. "Yes," he said,"this, I guess, belongs to me."