Hidden Gold

  CHAPTER VI

  MURDER

  "How do you think you'd like to live in Crawling Water?"

  Wade looked whimsically at Helen, as she picked her way with the graceof a kitten through the dust of the main street. Carefully though shewalked, her shoes and the bottom of her skirt were covered with dust,and gray with it.

  "I shouldn't like it," she said, with a little moue. "I don't see whyyou stay here. You aren't going to always, are you?"

  "I reckon it's likely."

  "Not--for always?" She had stopped and was looking up into his face withdelicious dismay. "That would be awful."

  "Most of my friends, and all of my business interests are here. Besides,I have a kind of pride in growing up with this country. Back in theEast, things have been settled for so long that a man's only a cog in amachine. Out here, a fellow has a sense of ownership, even in the hills.I think it's because he gets closer to the soil, until he comes to loveit and to be almost a part of it."

  "Oh, dear!" exclaimed the girl. "That sounds fine, but the reality isn'tup to my anticipation of it."

  Wade laughed in his hearty way.

  "That's only because you haven't been here long enough, Helen."

  "There are things that are splendid about the West," she generouslyadmitted. "Its vastness and wholesomeness, and especially its men. I'msure that's why I first liked you, Gordon, because you were_different_--not like the general run of young men in the East."

  "Oh, there are lots of good men East, too."

  "Not so very many. At least, I have seen very few who were at all worthwhile. There's one, Maxwell Frayne, who has been plaguing me for months;but I don't care for him--much." She was closely watching him as shespoke, and she smiled when he started.

  "You'd better not."

  "But if I really thought you meant to stay here all the time, I'm sureI'd love him devotedly. Now"--she eyed him mischievously--"I think thiswould be a nice place to call home, don't you know, just for fun, andthen spend most of the time in New York and London. See that man staringat me!"

  "How, staring at you?"

  Wade turned and looked in the direction she indicated, surprised at thesuggestion that she was being annoyed in Crawling Water, where chivalryto women ran high.

  "Oh, he didn't mean anything, I daresay."

  "They're friends of mine, and curious, perhaps." He referred to a groupof cattlemen across the street, who did seem to be staring and talking,with some indecision in their attitude. "I wonder if anything can havehappened? Oh, I guess not. Well, what would I do in London?"

  "I didn't say anything about _you_ being in London, did I?"

  "Well, it's safe to say that where you were, I'd want to be, at anyrate. Haven't I made two trips to Chicago for no real reason except tosee you?" he demanded, fast slipping into the thralldom of herfascination.

  She viewed him through half-closed eyes, knowing that the pose hasalways allured him.

  "Don't you think you'd be kept busy looking after me?" she playfullyasked. "Seriously, I hate an idle man, but I don't know what you'd findto do there. What a question. You'd have to have investments that wouldtake you over every year or two."

  "Now you're trying to make a city man of me," he said, half in jest."Besides,"--a dogged note crept into his voice--"I'd have the right toexpect something of you, wouldn't I?"

  "Not the right, but the privilege," she answered softly.

  "This is where the Purnells live." He turned her into the pathway to thedoor. "This is what I'd like, a neat little home like this, with acouple of kiddies and some dogs. Then I could spend my out-door time atthe ranch."

  Before Helen could reply to this, Mrs. Purnell appeared on the thresholdto welcome them, but to Wade's surprise, she told them that Dorothy wasnot there.

  "Oh, I'm so sorry," said Helen, with intense relief.

  "I don't know where she went either," the mother went on. "She was outfor a few minutes soon after you left, Gordon. Then she came back andcalled out something to me, but I didn't catch what she said. Before Iknew what she was doing she had saddled her pony and ridden off. Butcome right in. I don't think she'll be gone long."

  They entered and Helen, graciously choosing to overlook the fact thatthis was evidently Wade's second visit there within a very short time,sought to impress him with her tactfulness to Mrs. Purnell. She wouldhave been amazed could she have guessed that she was actually arousinghim to resentment. He felt, somehow, that she was patronizing theirhostess, who was a woman of refinement, even if she lacked theartificiality of manner that Helen affected. He was sincerely glad whenthe visit came to an end.

  "You must come again," said Mrs. Purnell, in a spirit of friendliness.

  "So glad to have met you," Helen replied. "I hope to have the pleasureof meeting your daughter, too, before we leave Crawling Water."

  "They're splendid women, both of them," Wade remarked, as they walkedback toward the center of the town.

  "Oh, yes," Helen agreed, without much spirit. "Nice, comfortable homepeople, I suppose."

  "Best kind in the world."

  "Gordon!" Helen laughed good-naturedly, facing him as she walked. "Whatin the world has been the matter with you to-day? We usually get on sowell together, and to-day, if I do say it, only my unwillingness toquarrel has kept us from it."

  "Oh, no!" He smiled, too. "Maybe that New York and London businessrubbed me the wrong way; that's all. I have plenty of faults, but I'mloyal to my friends. I don't like even hints that they aren't the bestfriends a man could have."

  "Surely, I haven't...."

  "Maybe not. Maybe I imagined it. But Crawling Water is a lot more realthan London, to my way of thinking."

  "You haven't been to London."

  "I'm not likely to go, either," he retorted.

  Her red lips curled in a way that seemed to indicate that she thought hewould go. Already, she was planning to get him out of Crawling Water andbeyond the influence of Dorothy Purnell.

  As they turned into the main street again, a man leaving a group nearthe livery stable, and mounting a horse, rode toward them.

  "I wonder what's up now?" Wade muttered, recognizing the horseman as oneof the Trowbridge outfit.

  "Mr. Wade. Just a minute." With the grace of a Centaur, the rider swunghis mount in beside them and doffed his hat. "Two of Jensen's herdershave been shot. I thought you ought to know about it."

  "What?" The ranch owner's jaw dropped at the news.

  "It's true, sir. Word just came in."

  "Thanks, Barker." Wade pulled himself together, as the restless ponyraced back to the barn. "I must go, Helen," he went on, turning to thegirl at his side. "There's been fighting--murder, perhaps--out near theranch. Santry will need me." He was uneasy lest the old plainsman shouldhave been concerned in the shooting.

  "You'll take me to the hotel?"

  "Of course, yes! Would you mind walking a little faster?" They quickenedtheir pace. "I'm sorry, Helen; but I must hurry to the ranch." Even atthat moment he could not but reflect that there would have been no needto take Dorothy home. Somehow, the ways of the East seemed to fit lessand less aptly into the life of Crawling Water.

  On his way to the livery stable after his horse, Wade did some rapidthinking. Santry might have been concerned in the shooting, but hisemployer thought not. The old fellow had promised to stay at home, andhis word was as good as another man's bond. It was too bad, certainly,that the thing should have happened just when Senator Rexhill's promisedaid had seemed in a fair way to settle the controversy. Now, the wholething was more upset than ever, for Moran and Rexhill could hardly beblamed if they backed up their own men, especially if the herders hadbeen blameless, as was probably the case. Yet if the Senator did this,Wade knew that a bloody little war would be the outcome.

  "Where's Trowbridge, Barker?" he asked of the cowpuncher, whom he foundwaiting at the stable.

  "At the ranch, I think."

  Wade nodded. Ten minutes later he was in the saddle and headed for themou
ntains, just as dusk began to fall. The cool night air, blowingagainst his face as he reached the higher levels, was delightfullyrefreshing after the heat of the day. He took off his hat and opened theneck of his shirt to the breeze, which revived his energies like wine.He knew that as he felt, so his horse felt, and he was glad, for theanimal would have to make a fast, hard trip. At the crest of the firsthills, before dipping into the valley, he turned for an instant in hissaddle to look backward over his trail toward the twinkling lights ofCrawling Water in the distance below.

  He had covered some five miles of his journey, to no other sound thanthe occasional note of some bird, when his quick ears caught the thud ofa horse's feet on the trail ahead, with now and then a sharp clatter asthe animal slipped on the stones. Wade slowed his own horse down to awalk, and eased his Colt in its holster. He expected to meet someharmless wayfarer, but, under the circumstances, it was just as well tobe prepared for trouble. Soon, however, he smiled to himself, forwhoever rode toward him made too much noise for any but a peacefulmission. The other horse, too, had been slowed down and the two ridersapproached each other with such caution that the rancher finally becameimpatient and pressed forward recklessly.

  Out of the night the stranger came on, still slowly, until a turn in thetrail brought them face to face.

  "Don't shoot!" said a woman's contralto. "I'm a friend."

  "Dorothy!" Wade ejaculated, at once recognizing the voice, although hecould not see the girl distinctly in the darkness. "In Heaven's name,what are you doing out here?"

  "Is it you, Gordon?" In her relief, she laughed softly as she pulled herpony up side of him. "I was a little scared for a second or two. I'veawfully bad news, I'm afraid," she added, immediately serious. "I'vebeen trying to find you. I went to the hotel and they told me you'd gonesomewhere."

  "Miss Rexhill and I went to call on you."

  "You did? If I'd only known. I've been clear out to the ranch."

  "Is Santry there?" In his anxiety he forgot momentarily the lonelinessof her long ride. "They say some of Jensen's men have been shot up; andI'm anxious to find out what Bill knows."

  "That's just what I want to tell you. I heard of the shooting before Ileft town. Whoa, Gypsy!" She reined up her pony, nervously, for it wouldnot stand still. Wade seized the animal's bridle and quieted it. "Idon't know if he's there or not," the girl went on. "I couldn't see. Theranch house is full of men."

  "Men? What men?" Wade demanded sharply.

  "Race Moran's crowd. They went out to arrest Santry. The Sheriff is withthem. I heard part of it in town, and that's why I tried to find you."Wade groaned. "I peeped in at a window, and when I could see neitheryou nor Santry I slipped away without being seen and took the old trailback because it was shorter."

  "Lord, what a mess!" Wade ground his teeth savagely. "Poor old Bill wasall alone there and they must have surprised him. But I don't see whyBarker didn't mention the posse when he told me of the shooting?"

  "He didn't know of it, probably. They left town very quietly. I happenedto be out back of the house and I heard one of them talking as they rodeby."

  "Good Lord!" Wade's head drooped. "I told Bill to stay at the ranch, andhe promised me...."

  "I don't believe he shot Jensen at all," Dorothy declared, with spirit."Yes, it was Jensen himself and one of his herders. Both in theback--killed."

  "Bill Santry never shot any man in the back," Wade declared, in arelieved tone. "If you're sure of the facts, Santry will come clear allright."

  "It's just a devilish scheme of Moran's, that's all, to put it on youand Santry. I'm sure it is. He hates you both. Whoa, Gypsy!" She reinedthe little mare in again. "No, it's all right, Gordon. I can manageher," she remonstrated, as he reached for the bridle once more.

  "So that's their game, eh? By Heaven, I more than half believe you'reright." His face grew ugly with rage. "Dorothy," he continued grimly,"thanks are useless. You're a brick, that's all. Do one thing more forus, will you?"

  "Anything," she replied simply, her eyes shining with devotion to him,but he was too overwrought to read them in the darkness.

  "When you get back to town get word to some of the men for me. You maymeet them on the way out, if not they'll be around the barn. Tell themto meet me at the big pine, on the old trail."

  His horse had grown restless and now he allowed it to have its head; hewas moving past her when she clutched his arm.

  "Gordon!"

  She loved him dearly, too dearly to let him know how well until heshould speak, if he ever did speak; but above them was the starlit skyand over them hovered the wondrous spirit of the Western night. Herpulse was beating, too, to the call of danger, and despite the controlwhich she had over her nerves, she was just a bit hysterical beneath thesurface. She knew that ahead of him was a little army of hostile men,and already that day two men had been killed. So, tremulously, she heldon to his sleeve, until she stopped him.

  "What are you going to do? You can't do anything alone against so many.They may kill you."

  Her sympathy was very sweet to him and he warmly squeezed the littlehand which had held him back.

  "Don't you be afraid, little girl," he said tenderly. "I shall not gethurt if I can help it."

  "Wait until the others come, won't you?"

  "Surely," he answered readily, touched by the anxiety in her voice. "I'mgoing to look around--just as you did--on the quiet. You wouldn't holdme back, where you went in, now would you?"

  "No--!" She smiled a little into his face.

  "That's the stuff! Then I'm coming back to the big pine, and you'll sendthe boys there. They'll not put Santry in jail if we can prevent them.They've played their last card to-night. It's war from now on."

  "All right, Gordon, I'll go." Her voice was full of courage again; themoment of weakness had passed. "Remember now, take good care ofyourself."

  "You bet," he retorted cheerily, and as her mare moved ahead, he caughther arm as she had caught his. She went quite limp in her saddle andswayed toward him, but he merely added: "You're a wonder, Dorothy."

  He released her then, and with a wave of her hand she disappeared intothe night. Not until she was beyond recall did he realize that he mighthave kissed her; that she had wanted him to kiss her, for the first timesince they had known each other. He sat in abstraction for severalmoments before he shook the reins in his hand and his horse sprangforward.

  "I've kissed one girl to-day," he muttered aloud, "and I reckon that'senough."