CHAPTER VIII
HIGHER THAN STATUTE LAW
Wade descended the stairs of the hotel and went into the barroom, fumingwith rage and chagrin because Helen had seen him in such a temper. Likemost men of action, he took pride in his self-control, which seldomfailed him, but the villainy of the Senator's attitude had momentarilymastered his patience.
Gathered about the bar were a number of men whom he knew, but beyond anod here and there he took no notice of them, and went to sit down aloneat a small table in the corner. His friends respected his desire to beleft alone, although several eyed him curiously and exchangedsignificant remarks at his appearance. They seemed to be of the opinionthat, at last, his fighting blood had been aroused, and now and thenthey shot approving glances in his direction.
"Whiskey," Wade called to the bartender, and a bottle and glass wereplaced on the table in front of him.
With a steady hand the ranchman poured out and quickly swallowed twostiff drinks of the fiery liquor, although he was not ordinarily adrinking man. The fact that he drank now showed his mental state moreclearly than words could have expressed it. Searching in his pockets, hefound tobacco and papers and rolled and lighted a cigarette. Nothingcould be done for Santry until night, and meanwhile he intended to getsomething to eat and take the sleep that he needed to fit himself forthe task ahead of him. He ordered a steak, which on top of the whiskeyput new life into him.
The more he thought of his outburst of temper before Helen the more itannoyed him, for he realized that he had "bitten off a bigger wad thanhe could chew," as Bill Santry would have expressed it. Rascal thoughthe Senator was, so far as he was concerned, Wade felt that his handswere tied on Helen's account. For her sake, he could not move againsther father in a country where the average man thought of consequencesafter the act rather than before it. In a sense Wade felt that he stoodsponsor for Crawling Water in the hospitality which it offered Helen,and he could not bring peril down on her head.
But as for Moran and his hirelings, that was a different matter! Whenthe ranchman thought of Moran, no vengeance seemed too dire to fit hismisdeeds. In that direction he would go to the limit, and he only hopedthat he might get his hands on Moran in the mix-up. He still looked uponhis final visit to Rexhill as a weakness, but it had been undertakensolely on Santry's account. It had failed, and no one now could expecttolerance of him except Helen. If the posse was still at the ranch, whenhe and Santry returned there at the head of their men, they would attackin force, and shoot to kill if necessary.
He learned from Lem Trowbridge, who presently joined him at the table,that the posse would probably still be there, for the report in townwas that Moran had taken possession of the property and meant to staythere.
"He does, eh?" Wade muttered grimly. "Well, he may, but it will be withhis toes up. I'm done, Lem. By Heaven, it's more than flesh and bloodcan stand!"
"It sure is! We're with you, Gordon. Your men were over at my place afew hours ago. We grubbed them and loaned them all the guns we couldspare. I sent over my new Winchester and a belt of shells for you."
"Thanks."
"That's all right. You're more than welcome to all the help I can giveyou, not only against Moran and his gang, but against Rexhill. If youlike, we'll run him out of town while you're putting the fear of Godinto Moran. Lord! I sure would like to go back to the ranch with you,but it's your own quarrel and I won't butt in."
Wade briefly explained his attitude toward the Rexhills and added thattheir cause would not be helped by violence toward the Senator, who wasa big man at Washington, and might stir the authorities into action onhis behalf if he could prove personal abuse. The noise that would bemade by such a happening might drown out the justice of the cattlemen'sclaim.
"Well, that's true, too," Trowbridge admitted. "I can see the point allright. What we want to do is to get something 'on' the Senator. I meansomething sure--something like this Jensen shooting."
Wade nodded slowly.
"That's the idea, but I'm afraid we can't do it, Lem. I haven't a doubtbut that Moran is mixed up in the killing, but I hardly believe Rexhillis. Anyhow, they've probably covered their tracks so well that we'llnever be able to connect them with it."
"Oh, I don't know. You can't always tell what time'll bring to light."Trowbridge lowered his voice. "What's your idea about Santry? Do youwant help there?"
"No." Wade spoke with equal caution. "I believe I can manage all rightalone. The Sheriff will probably be looking for us to rush the jail, buthe won't expect me to come alone. Bat Lewis goes on duty as the relief,about nine o'clock. I mean to beat him to it, and if the Sheriff opensup for me I'll be away with Santry before Bat appears. But I must getsome sleep, Lem."
The two men arose.
"Well, good luck to you, Gordon." Trowbridge slapped his friend on theshoulder, and they separated.
"Frank, can you let me have a bed?" Wade asked of the hotel proprietor,a freckled Irishman.
"Sure; as many as you want."
"One will do, Frank; and another thing," the ranchman said guardedly."I'll need an extra horse to-night, and I don't want to be seen with himuntil I need him. Can you have him tied behind the school-house a littlebefore nine o'clock?"
"You bet I can!" The Irishman slowly dropped an eyelid, for theschool-house was close by the jail.
Wade tumbled into the bed provided for him and slept like a log, havingthat happy faculty of the healthy man, of being able to sleep when hisbody needed it, no matter what impended against the hour of awakening.
When he did wake up, the afternoon was well advanced, and after anotherhearty meal he walked over to the Purnells' to pass the time until itwas late enough for him to get to work.
"Now, Gordon will tell you I'm right," Mrs. Purnell proclaimedtriumphantly, when the young man entered the cottage. "I want Dorothy togo with me to call on Miss Rexhill, and she doesn't want to go. Theidea! When Miss Rexhill was nice enough to call on us first."
Mrs. Purnell set much store upon her manners, as the little Michigantown where she was born understood good breeding, and she had not beenat all annoyed by Helen Rexhill's patronage, which had so displeasedWade. To her mind the Rexhills were very great people, and great peoplewere to be expected to bear themselves in lofty fashion. Dorothy hadinherited her democracy from her father and not from her mother, who,indeed, would have been disappointed if Helen Rexhill appeared any lessthan the exalted personage she imagined herself to be.
"Oh, I'd like to meet her well enough, only...." Dorothy stopped,unwilling to say before Wade that she did not consider the Rexhillssufficiently good friends of his, in the light of recent developments,for them to be friends of hers.
"Of course, go," he broke in heartily. "She's not responsible for whather father does in the way of business, and I reckon she'd think itfunny if you didn't call."
"There now!" Mrs. Purnell exclaimed triumphantly.
"All right, I'll go." In her heart Dorothy was curious to meet the otherwoman and gauge her powers of attraction. "We'll go to-morrow, mother."
Quite satisfied, Mrs. Purnell made some excuse to leave them together,as she usually did, for her mother heart had traveled farther along theRoad to To-morrow than her daughter's fancy. She secretly hoped that theyoung cattleman would some day declare his love for Dorothy and ask forher hand in marriage.
In reply to the girl's anxious questions Wade told her of what hadhappened since their meeting on the trail, as they sat together on theporch of the little cottage. She was wearing a plain dress of greengingham, which, somehow, suggested to him the freshness of lettuce. Shelaughed a little when he told her of that and called him foolish, thoughthe smile that showed a dimple in her chin belied her words.
"Then the posse is still at the ranch?" she asked.
"I think so. If they are, we are going to run them off to-morrowmorning, or perhaps to-night. I've had enough of this nonsense and Imean to meet Moran halfway from now on."
"Yes, I suppose you must," she admitted
reluctantly. "But do be careful,Gordon."
"As careful as I can be under the circumstances," he said cheerfully,and told her that his chief purpose in coming to see her was to thankher again for the service she had rendered him.
"Oh, you don't need to thank me for that. Do you know"--she puckered upher brows in a reflective way--"I've been thinking. It seems verystrange to me that Senator Rexhill and Moran should be willing to go tosuch lengths merely to get hold of this land as a speculation. Doesn'tit seem so to you?"
"Yes, it does, but that must be their reason."
"I'm not so sure of that, Gordon. There must be something more behindall this. That's what I have been thinking about. You remember that whenMoran first came here he had an office just across the street from hispresent one?"
"Yes. Simon Barsdale had Moran's present office until he moved toSheridan. You were his stenographer for a while, I remember." Wadelooked at her curiously, wondering what she was driving at.
"Moran bought Mr. Barsdale's safe." Her voice sounded strange andunnatural. "I know the old combination. I wonder if it has beenchanged?"
"Lem Trowbridge was saying only this morning," said Wade thoughtfully,for he was beginning to catch her meaning, "that if we could only getproof of something crooked we might...."
"Well, I think we can," Dorothy interrupted.
They looked searchingly at each other in the gathering dusk, and hetried to read the light in her eyes, and being strangely affectedhimself by their close proximity, he misinterpreted it. He slipped hishand over hers and once more the desire to kiss her seized him. He letgo of her hand and was just putting his arm around her shoulders when,to his surprise, she appeared suddenly indignant.
"Don't!"
He was abashed, and for a moment neither said a word.
"What is the combination?" he finally asked hoarsely.
"I promised Mr. Barsdale never to tell any one." Her lips wreathed intoa little smile. "I'll do it myself."
"No, you won't." Wade shook his head positively. "Do you suppose I'mgoing to let you steal for me? It will be bad enough to do it myself;but necessity knows no law. Well, we'll let it go for the present then.Don't you think of doing it, Dorothy. Will you promise me?"
"I never promise," she said, smiling again, and ignoring her last wordsin womanly fashion, "but if you don't want me to...."
"Well, I don't," he declared firmly. "Let it rest at that. We'llprobably find some other way anyhow."
She asked him then about Santry, but he evaded a direct answer beyondexpressing the conviction that everything would end all right. Theytalked for a while of commonplaces, although nothing that he said seemedcommonplace to her and nothing that she said seemed so to him. When itwas fully dark he arose to go. Then she seemed a little sorry that shehad not let him put his arm around her, and she leaned toward him asshe had done on the trail; but he was not well versed in woman'ssubtleties, and he failed to guess her thoughts and walked away, leavingher, as Shakespeare put it, to
"Twice desire, ere it be day, That which with scorn she put away."
Having mounted his horse at the livery stable, he first made sure thatthe extra horse was behind the school-house, where he tied his own, andthen walked around to the jail. On the outside, this building was asubstantial log structure; within, it was divided into the Sheriff'soffice and sleeping room, the "bull pen," and a single narrow cell, inwhich Wade guessed that Santry would be locked. After examining hisrevolver, he slipped it into the side pocket of his coat and walkedboldly up to the jail. Then, whistling merrily, for Bat Lewis, thedeputy, was a confirmed human song-bird, he knocked sharply on the doorwith his knuckles.
"It's me--Bat," he called out, mimicking Lewis' voice, in answer to aquestion from within.
"You're early to-night. What's struck you?" Sheriff Thomas opened thedoor, and turning, left it so, for the "relief" to enter. He had halffeared that an attempt might be made to liberate Santry, but had neverdreamed that any one would try the thing alone. He was glad to berelieved, for a poker game at which he wanted to sit in would soon startat the Gulch Saloon.
He was the most surprised man in Wyoming, when he felt the cold muzzleof Wade's Colt boring into the nape of his neck and heard the ranchman'sstern warning to keep quiet or take the consequences. Sheriff Thomas hadearned his right to his "star" by more than one exhibition of nerve, buthe was too familiar with gun ethics to argue with the business end of a"45."
"Not a sound!" Outwardly cold as ice, but inwardly afire, Wade shovedthe weapon against his victim's neck and marched him to the middle ofthe room. "I've got the upper hand, Sheriff, and I intend to keep it."
"You're a damn fool, Wade." The Sheriff spoke without visible emotionand in a low tone. "You'll go up for this. Don't you realize that...."
"Can it!" snapped Wade, deftly disarming the officer with his free hand."Never mind the majesty of the law and all that rot. I thought that allover before I came. Now that I've got you and drawn your teeth, you'lltake orders from me. Get my foreman out of that cell and be quick aboutit!"
There was nothing to do but obey, which Thomas quietly did, althoughsomewhat in fear of what Santry might do when at liberty. When the celldoor was unlocked, the old plainsman, in a towering rage at theinjustice of his incarceration, seemed inclined to choke his erstwhilejailer.
"None of that, Bill," Wade admonished curtly. "He's only been a tool inthis business, although he ought to know better. We'll tie him up andgag him; that's all. Rip up one of those blankets."
"I knew you'd come, boy!" The foreman's joy was almost like that of abig dog at sight of his master. "By the great horned toad, I knew it!"With his sinewy hands he tore the blanket into strips as easily asthough the wool had been paper. "Now for him, drat him!"
Wade stood guard while the helpless Sheriff was trussed up and his mouthstopped by Santry, and if the ranch owner felt any compunction at thesight, he had only to think of his own men as he had seen them the nightbefore, lying on the floor of the ranch house.
"Make a good job of it, Bill," was his only comment.
"You bet!" Santry chuckled as he drew the last of the knots tight."That'll hold him for a spell, I reckon. How you feel, Sheruff, purtycomfortable?" The flowing end of the gag so hid the officer's featuresthat he could express himself only with his eyes, which he battedfuriously. "Course," Santry went on, in mock solicitude, "if I'd thoughtI mighta put a bit of sugar on that there gag, to remind you of yourmammy like, but it ain't no great matter. You can put a double dose inyour cawfee when you git loose."
"Come on, Bill!" Wade commanded.
"So long, Sheruff," Santry chuckled.
There was no time to waste in loitering, for at any moment Bat Lewismight arrive and give an alarm which would summon reenforcements fromamongst Moran's following. Hurrying Santry ahead of him, Wade swung openthe door and they looked out cautiously. No one was in sight, and acouple of minutes later the two men were mounted and on their way out oftown.
"By the great horned toad!" Santry exulted, as they left the lights ofCrawling Water behind them. "It sure feels good to be out of that thereboardin'-house. It wasn't our fault, Gordon, and say, about this hereshootin'...."
"I know all about that, Bill," Wade interposed. "The boys told me.They're waiting for us at the big pine. But your arrest, that's what Iwant to hear about."
"Well, it was this-a-way," the old man explained. "They sneaked up onthe house in the dark and got the drop on us. Right here I rise toremark that never no more will I separate myself from my six-shooter.More'n one good man has got hisself killed just because his gun wasn'twhere it oughter be when he needed it. Of course, we put up the bestscrap we could, but we didn't have no chance, Gordon. The first thing Iknew, while I was tusslin' with one feller, somebody fetched me a rap onthe head with a pistol-butt, an' I went down for the count. Any of theboys shot up?"
Wade described the appearance of the ranch house on the previous night,and Santry swore right manfully.
&
nbsp; "What's on the cards now?" he demanded. "How much longer are we goin' tostand for...."
"No longer," Wade declared crisply. "That's why the boys are waiting forus at the pine. We're going to run Moran and his gang off the ranch assoon as we can get there, and then we're going to run them out of thecountry."
"Whoop-e-e-e-e-e!" The old plainsman's yell of exultation split thenight like the yelp of a coyote, and he brought his hand down on Wade'sback with a force which made the latter wince. "By the great hornedtoad, that's talkin! That's the finest news I've heard since my oldmammy said to the parson, 'Call him Bill, for short.' Whoop-e-e-e-e!"
Wade's warning to keep still was lost on the wind, for Santry stuck hisspurs into his horse's flanks and charged along the trail like anold-time knight. With a grim smile his employer put on speed andfollowed him.