CHAPTER XLI
HOMING HEARTS
Jack crept closer, very carefully. He was morally certain that thedefenders held the ledge, but it would not do to make a mistake. Liveswere at stake--one life much more precious than his own.
He drew his revolver and snaked forward. There was nothing else to dobut take a chance. But he meant at least to minimize it, and certainlynot to let himself be captured alive.
It was strange that nobody yet had challenged him. He was close enoughnow to peer into the darkness of the tunnel between the boulders and thewall. There seemed to be no one on guard.
He crept forward to the last boulder, and his boot pressed againstsomething soft lying on the ground. It moved. A white, startled face waslifted to his--a face that held only the darkness of despair.
He knelt, put down his revolver, and slipped an arm around the warmyoung body.
"Thank God!" he cried softly. He was trembling in every limb. Tearsfilled his voice. And over and over again he murmured, "Thank God!...Thank God!"
The despair in the white face slowly dissolved. He read there doubt, agrowing certainty, and then a swift, soft radiance of joy and tears.
"I prayed for you, and you've come. God sent you to me. Oh, Jack, atlast!"
Her arms crept round his neck. He held her close and kissed the sweetlips salt with tears of happiness.
He was ashamed of himself. Not since he had been a little boy had hecried till now. His life had made for stoicism. But tears furrowed downhis lean, brown cheeks. The streak in him that was still tender-heartedchild had suddenly come to the surface. For he had expected to find herdead at best; instead, her warm, soft body was in his arms, her eyeswere telling him an unbelievable story that her tongue as yet could findno words to utter. There flamed in him, like fire in dead tumbleweeds, asurge of glad triumph that inexplicably blended with humblethankfulness.
To her his emotion was joy without complex. The Ranger was tough as ahickory withe. She knew him hard as tempered steel to those whom heopposed, and her heart throbbed with excitement at his tears. She aloneamong all women could have touched him so. It came to her like arevelation that she need never have feared. He was her destined mate.Across that wide desert space empty of life he had come straight to heras to a magnet.
And from that moment, all through the night, she never once thought ofbeing afraid. Her man was beside her. He would let no harm come to her.Womanlike, she exulted in him. He was so lithe and brown and slender, sostrong and clean, and in all the world there was nothing that he feared.
With her hand in his she walked through the passage to where Dinsmoreheld watch. The outlaw turned and looked at the Ranger. If anybody hadtold him that a time would come when he would be glad to see Tex Robertsfor any purpose except to fight him, the bandit would have had a swift,curt answer ready. But at sight of him his heart leaped. No hint of thisshowed in his leathery face.
"Earnin' that dollar a day, are you?" he jeered.
"A dollar a day an' grub," corrected Jack, smiling.
"Much of a posse with you?"
"Dropped in alone. My men are camped a few miles back. Mr. Wadley iswith us."
"They got Gurley, I reckon. He tried to sneak away." Dinsmore flashed aquick look toward Ramona and back at Jack. "Leastways I'm not bettin' onhis chances. Likely one of the 'Paches shot him."
"Mebbeso."
The girl said nothing. She knew that neither of the men believed Gurleyhad been shot. Those horrible cries that had come out of the night hadbeen wrung from him by past-masters in the business of torture.
"You'd better get back an' hold the other end of the passage," suggestedDinsmore. He jerked his head toward 'Mona. "She'll show you where."
Ramona sat beside her lover while he kept watch, her head against hisshoulder, his arm around her waist. Beneath the stars that werebeginning to prick through the sky they made their confessions of loveto each other. She told him how she had tried to hate him because of herbrother and could not, and he in turn told her how he had thought ArthurRidley was her choice.
"I did think so once--before I knew you," she admitted, soft eyes veiledbeneath long lashes. "Then that day you fought with the bull to save me:I began to love you then."
They talked most of the night away, but in the hours toward morning hemade her lie down and rest. She protested that she couldn't sleep; shewould far rather sit beside him. But almost as soon as her head touchedthe saddle she was asleep.
A little before dawn he went to waken her. For a moment the softloveliness of curved cheek and flowing lines touched him profoundly. Thespell of her innocence moved him to reverence. She was still a child,and she was giving her life into his keeping.
The flush of sleep was still on her wrinkled cheek when she sat up athis touch.
"The Apaches are climbing up the boulder field," he explained. "I didn'twant to waken you with a shot."
She stood before him in shy, sweet surrender, waiting for him to kissher before he took his post. He did.
"It's goin' to be all right," he promised her. "We'll drive 'em back an'soon yore father will be here with the men."
"I'm not afraid," she said--"not the least littlest bit. But you're notto expose yourself."
"They can't hit a barn door--never can. But I'll take no chances," hepromised.
During the night the Apaches had stolen far up the boulder bed and foundcover behind quartz slabs which yielded them protection as good as thatof the white man above. They took no chances, since there was plenty oftime to get the imprisoned party without rushing the fort. Nobody knewthey were here. Therefore nobody would come to their rescue. It waspossible that they had food with them, but they could not have muchwater. In good time--it might be one sleep, perhaps two, possiblythree--those on the ledge must surrender or die. So the Indiansreasoned, and so the Ranger guessed that they would reason.
Jack lay behind his rocks as patiently as the savages did. Every ten orfifteen minutes he fired a shot, not so much with the expectation ofhitting one of the enemy as to notify his friends where he was. Abovethe canon wall opposite the sun crept up and poured a golden light intothe misty shadows of the gulch. Its shaft stole farther down thehillside till it touched the yellowing foliage of the cottonwoods.
Up the canon came the sudden pop--pop--pop of exploding rifles. Driftedup yells and whoops. The Indians hidden in the rock slide began toappear, dodging swiftly down toward the trees. Jack let out the"Hi-yi-yi" of the line-rider and stepped out from the boulders to get abetter shot. The naked Apaches, leaping like jack-rabbits, scurried forcover. Their retreat was cut off from the right, and they raced up thegorge to escape the galloping cowboys who swung round the bend. One ofthe red men, struck just as he was sliding from a flat rock, whirled,plunged down headfirst like a diver, and disappeared in the brush.
Jack waited to see no more. He turned and walked back into the cavewhere his incomparable sweetheart was standing with her little fingersclasped tightly together.
"It's all over. The 'Paches are on the run," he told her.
She drew a deep, long breath and trembled into his arms.
There Clint Wadley found her five minutes later. The cattleman brushedthe young fellow aside and surrounded his little girl with roughtenderness. Jack waited to see no more, but joined Dinsmore outside.
After a long time Wadley, his arm still around Ramona, joined them onthe ledge.
"Boys, I'm no hand at talkin'," he said huskily. "I owe both of you adamned sight more than I can ever pay. I'll talk with you later, Jack.What about you, Dinsmore? You're in one hell of a fix. I'll get you outof it or go broke."
"What fix am I in?" demanded the outlaw boldly. "They ain't got a thingon me--not a thing. Suspicions aren't proof."
The Ranger said nothing. He knew that the evidence he could give wouldhang Dinsmore before any Panhandle jury, and now his heart was wholly onthe side of the ruffian who had saved the life of his sweetheart. Nonethe less, it was his duty to take the man in charge and he
meant to doit.
"Hope you can make yore side of the case stick, Dinsmore. I sure hopeso. Anyway, from now on I'm with you at every turn of the road," thecattleman promised.
"Much obliged," answered the outlaw with a lift of his lip that mighthave been either a smile or a sneer.
"You've been trailin' with a bad outfit. You're a sure-enough wolf,I've heard tell. But you're a man all the way, by gad."
"Did you figure I was yellow like Steve, Clint? Mebbe I'm a bad _hombre_all right. But you've known me twenty years. What license have you everhad to think I'd leave a kid like her for the 'Paches to play with?" Thehard eyes of the outlaw challenged a refutation of his claim.
"None in the world, Homer. You're game. Nobody ever denied you guts. An'you're a better man than I thought you were."
Dinsmore splattered the face of a rock with tobacco juice and hisstained teeth showed in a sardonic grin.
"I've got a white black heart," he jeered.