Chapter XI
_Spring Lamb_
Mrs. Adams had decided to have roast spring lamb for dinner thatevening. Instead, her guests had to content themselves with cannedsalmon and hot biscuit. And because ...
Lorry appeared at the breakfast table in overalls and jumper. He hadpurposely waited until the Westons had gone downstairs. He anticipatedan invitation to ride to the hills with them. He would decline, andsmile as he did so. If that girl thought he cared anything about _her_!
He answered their greeting with a cheery "Good-mornin'," and immediatelyturned his whole attention to bacon and eggs.
Alice Weston wondered that his eyes should be so clear and care-free,knowing what she did of last night's escapade.
Mrs. Adams was interested in the girl's riding-habit. It made her ownplain riding-skirt and blouse appear rather countrified. And afterbreakfast Lorry watched the preparations for the ride with a criticaleye. No one would know whether or not he cared to go. They seemed tohave taken it for granted that he would. He whistled softly, and shookhis head as his mother suggested that he get ready.
"Of course you're coming with us," said Alice Weston.
"I got to look after the hotel," he said with conclusive emphasis.
Lorry disappeared, and in the bustle of preparation and departure Mrs.Adams did not miss him until they were some distance out on the mesa.
"Where's Lorry?" she queried.
"He said he had to look after the hotel," said Alice Weston.
"Well, he didn't. I had everything arranged for. I don't know what's gotinto him lately."
Back at the hotel Lorry was leaning against the veranda rail, talking toMrs. Weston. "I reckon it will be kind of tame for you, ma'am. I waswondering, now, if you would let me look over that machine. I've helpedfix 'em up lots of times."
"Why, I don't know. It wouldn't do any harm to look, would it?"
"I guess not."
Mrs. Weston gazed at Lorry curiously. He had smiled, and he resembledWaring so closely that Mrs. Weston remarked it aloud.
Lorry flushed. "I think Mr. Waring is a right good-lookin' man, don'tyou?"
Mrs. Weston laughed. "Yes, I do."
"Yes, ma'am. But honest, Mrs. Weston, I never did see a finer-lookin'girl than your girl. I seen plenty of magazine pictures like her. I'dfeel some proud if I was her mother."
The morning was not so dull, after all. Mrs. Weston was not used to suchfrankness, but she was not displeased. "I see you have on your workingclothes. If you really think you can repair the car--"
"I got nothin' else to do. The sun is gettin' round to the front. If youwould like to sit in the car and watch, I would look her over; there, inthe shade."
"I'll get a hat," said Mrs. Weston, rising.
"Your hair is right pretty without a hat. And besides you would be inthe shade of the top."
It had been some time since any one had complimented Mrs. Weston abouther hair, and especially a man young enough to be her son. What was thecowboy going to say next?
Mrs. Weston stepped into the car, which was parked on the south side ofthe building. Lorry, whistling blithely, searched until he found awrench in one of the forward-door pockets. He disappeared beneath thecar. Mrs. Weston could hear him tinkering at something. She leaned back,breathing deep of the clean, thin air. She could not recall having feltso thoroughly content and keenly alive at the same time. She had nodesire to say or do anything.
Presently Lorry appeared, his face grimy and his hands streaked withoil. "Nothin' busted," he reported cheerfully. "We got a car over tothe ranch. She's been busted a-plenty. I fixed her up more times than Ican remember. Cars is like horses ma'am; no two just alike, but kind ofgenerally the same. The steering-knuckle ain't broke. It's the left axlethat's sprung. That won't take long to straighten."
Mrs. Weston smiled. Lorry thought she was actually pretty. She saw thisin his eyes, and flushed slightly.
"And I'll just block her up and take off the wheel, and I reckon theblacksmith can straighten that axle easy."
"It's very nice of you. But I am wondering why you didn't go on thepicnic--with the others."
"Well, who'd 'a' kept you company, ma'am? Anita, she's busy. Anyhow, Iseen plenty of scenery. I'd rather be here."
"Talking to a woman old enough to be your mother?"
"Huh! I never thought of you like that. I'm only eighteen. Anyhow, whatdifference does it make how old a lady is, if she is pretty?"
Mrs. Weston's eyes twinkled. "Do you ever pay compliments to yourselfwhen you are combing your hair or tying your scarf?"
"Me! Why, not so anybody could hear 'em. Now, I think my mother is rightpretty, Mrs. Weston."
"So do I. And it was nice of you to say it."
"But I don't see anything wrong in sayin' what's so," he argued. "I seenyou kind of raise your eyebrows, and I thought mebby I was bein' took asa joke."
"Oh, no, indeed!"
Lorry disappeared again. As he worked he wondered just how long it wouldbe before Buck Hardy would look for him. Lorry knew that some one musthave taken food and water to the prisoner by this time, or to where theprisoner was supposed to be. But he did not know that Hardy and hisdeputy had questioned Anita, and that she had told the sheriff the folkshad all gone on a picnic to the hills. The car, at the back of thehotel, was not visible from the street.
With some pieces of timber Lorry jacked up the front of the machine andremoved the damaged wheel and axle.
He took the bent axle to the blacksmith, and returned to the hotel.Nothing further offered just then, so he suggested that he clean thecar. Mrs. Weston consented, deciding that she would not pay him untilher daughter returned.
He attached the hose to a faucet, and suggested that Mrs. Weston take achair, which he brought from the veranda. He hosed the car, and as hepolished it, Mrs. Weston asked him about Waring.
"Why, he's a friend of ours," replied Lorry.
"Of course. But I was wondering what he did."
Lorry hesitated. "Didn't you ever hear that song about Waring ofSonora-Town? It's a whizzer. Well, that's him. All the cowboys sing thatsong."
"I have never heard it."
"Well, mebby dad wouldn't like that I sing it. He's kind of funny thatway. Now you wouldn't think he was the fastest gunman in the Southwest,would you?"
"Gunman! Your father?"
Lorry straightened up from polishing the car. "I clean forgot what I wassayin'. I guess my foot slipped that time."
"I am sorry I asked," said Mrs. Weston. "It really doesn't matter."
"Oh, it ain't your fault. But I wasn't aimin' to tell. Dad he married mymother, and they went to live in Sonora, down in Mexico. Some of theminin' outfits down there hired him regular to--to protect theirinterests. I guess ma couldn't stand that kind of life, for after a fewyears she brought me up here. I was just a kid then. Ma she built up agood trade at this hotel. Folks call her Mrs. Adams. Her name was Adamsafore she got married. We been here ten years. Dad didn't know where shewas till last week he showed up here. I reckon she thought he got killedlong ago. Folks would talk about it if they knowed he was her husband,so I guess she asked dad to say nothin' about that. He said he came upto see me. I guess he don't aim to stay long."
"I think I understand," said Mrs. Weston.
"Well, it ain't none of my business, long as ma is all right. Say, sheshines like a new hack, eh?"
"You have cleaned the car beautifully."
"Oh, I dunno. Now, if it was a hoss--And say, I guess you'll be startin'to-morrow. That axle will be all right in about an hour."
Just then Anita came to call them to luncheon. She had heard themtalking at the rear of the hotel shortly after Sheriff Hardy hadinquired for Lorry. Several townsfolk came in, ate, and departed ontheir several ways.
After luncheon Mrs. Weston went to her room. She thought she would liedown and sleep for an hour or so, but the noon heat made the room ratherclose. She picked up a book and came down, where she found itcomfortably cool on the ver
anda.
The town was quiet. A hand-car with its section crew of Mexicans clickedpast, and hummed on down the glittering rails. A stray burro meanderedabout, and finally came to a stop in the middle of the street, where hestood, stoically enduring the sun, a veritable long-eared statue ofdejection. Mrs. Weston turned a page, but the printed word was flat andinsignificant.
She felt as though she were in a kind of twilight valley, midway betweenthe hills of slumber and wakefulness. For the moment she forgot the nameof the town itself. She knew that she could recall it if she tried. Adog lay asleep beneath the station platform opposite, one relaxed pawover his nose. Some one was calling to some one in the kitchen. A figurepassed in the street; a young man who smiled and nodded. It was the boy,Lorry. He had been working on the car that morning. She had watched himwork, rather enjoying his energy. A healthy young animal asunsophisticated as a kitten, and really innately kind and innocent ofintent to flatter. He was not at all like the bright young savage whohad roped and almost choked to death that awful man.
It was impossible to judge a person at first sight and especially underunusual circumstances. And he seemed not at all chagrined that he hadnot gone with the others to the hills. Alice had enjoyed reading aboutWesterners--rough, boisterous beings intolerable to Mrs. Weston even inprint. And Mrs. Weston thought that proper environment and associationmight bring out their better qualities, even as the boy, Lorry, seemedto have improved--well, since yesterday morning. Perhaps he was on hisgood behavior because they were there.
It seemed past comprehension that anything startling could happen inthat drowsy atmosphere.
The young cowboy was coming back down the street, some part of the carover his shoulder. Mrs. Weston anticipated his nod, and nodded lazily ashe passed. She could hear him tinkering at the car.
A few blocks up the street, Buck Hardy was seated in his office talkingwith the undersheriff. The undersheriff twisted the end of his blackmustache and looked wise.
"They told me at the hotel that he had gone riding with themEasterners," said Hardy. "And now you say he's been in town all dayworking on that automobile."
"Yep. He's been to the blacksmith twice to-day. I didn't say anything tohim, seein' you was over to Larkins's, and said he was out of town. I'dhate to think he done anything like that."
"That hobo was gone when I went to talk to him this morning. The lockwas busted. I can't figure it out. Young Lorry stood to win the reward,and he could use the money."
"Hear anything by wire?" queried the undersheriff.
"Nothing. The man didn't get by on any of the trains. I notified bothstations. He's afoot and he's gone."
"Well, I guess the kid loses out, eh?"
"That ain't all. This county will jump me for letting that guy get away.It won't help us any next election."
"Well, my idea is to have a talk with Adams," said the undersheriff.
"I'm going to do that. I like the kid, and then there's his mother--"
"And you'd hold him for lettin' the guy loose, eh?"
"I would. I'd hold my own brother for playing a trick like that."
"Well, I don't sabe it," asserted the undersheriff. "Lorry Adams alwayshad a good name."
"We'll have a talk with him, Bill."
"Are you sure Adams did it, Buck?"
"No, not sure, but I'm going to find out. I'll throw a scare into himthat'll make him talk."
"Mebby he won't scare."
"Then I'll run him in. He's some enterprising, if I do say it. He putHigh-Chin Bob out of business over by the water-hole yesterday."
"High Chin! The hell you say!"
"That's what I thought when I heard it. High was beating up the hobo,and Lorry claimed him as his prisoner. Jim Waring says the kid wallopedHigh on the head and knocked him stiff."
"Whew! Bob will get his hide for that."
"I don't know. Jim Waring is riding the country just now."
"What's that got to do with it?"
"More than I'm going to tell you, Bill. But take it from me, he'sinterested in young Adams a whole lot."
* * * * *
When Hardy and his deputy rode over to the hotel there was a pause inthe chatter. Alice Weston was describing their journey to her mother andcalling upon Waring to substantiate her vivid assertions of thewonderful adventure. The saddle-horse still stood at the hitching-rail,and Hardy, who had an eye for a good horse, openly admired the bigbuckskin. Waring was talking with Lorry. Mrs. Adams had gone in. Hardyindicated that he wanted to speak to Lorry, and he included Waring inhis gesture. Lorry rose and glanced quickly at Alice Weston. She wasleaning forward in her chair, suddenly aware of a subtle undercurrent ofseriousness. The undersheriff was patting the nose of the big buckskin.
The men stepped down from the veranda, and stood near the horses.
"That hobo got away," said the sheriff. "Do you know anything about it?"
"I turned him loose," said Lorry, without hesitation.
"What for?"
"I changed my mind. I didn't want any blood-money for arrestin' atramp."
"That's all right. But you can't change the law so easy. That man was myprisoner. Why didn't you come to me?"
"Well, if you want to know, in company," said Lorry, "High Chin and theboys had it framed up to give that hobo a goin'-over for stealin' aStarr horse. They figured to bust in the jail, same as I did. I got thatstraight; I didn't aim to let High Chin get his hands on my prisoner."
"Well, Lorry, I don't like to do it, but I got to hold you till we gethim."
"How do you figure that?"
"You've aided a prisoner to escape. You broke the law."
"What right had you to hold him?"
"Your own story. You brought him in yourself."
"I sure did. But supposin' I say I ain't got nothin' against him, andthe folks over there won't appear against him, how could you proveanything?"
"He's under suspicion. You said yourself he was holding up themtourists."
"But you can't make me swear that in court."
Buck Hardy glared at the younger man. "See here, Lorry, I don'tunderstand your game. Suppose the man ain't guilty. He was lockedup--and by me, representing this county. You can't prove that the Starrboys would have done anything to him. And you can't monkey with the lawto suit yourself as long as I'm sheriff. Am I right?" And Hardy turnedto Waring.
"You're right, Hardy."
Lorry's gray eyes shone with a peculiar light. "What you goin' to doabout it, Buck?"
"Two of my boys are out looking for the man. You're under arrest till heis brought in."
"You aim to lock me in that calaboose?"
"No. But, understand, you're under arrest. You can't leave town."
"Say, now, Buck, ain't you kind of crowdin' me into the fence?"
"I'd arrest my own brother for a trick like that."
Lorry gazed at the ground for a minute. He glanced up. Alice Weston satwatching them. She could not hear what they were saying, but theirattitudes confirmed her apprehension.
"I'd like to speak to ma a minute," said Lorry.
"Go ahead. There's no hurry."
Waring, who had been watching his son closely, strolled to the verandasteps and sat down.
Hardy lighted a cigar. "I hate to do this, Waring," he told the other.
"That's all right, Hardy."
The sheriff leaned close. "I figured to bluff him into telling which waythe hobo went. Mebby he'll talk later."
Waring smiled. "You have a free hand so far as I am concerned," he said.
Alice Weston was talking with her mother when she heard a cautious stepon the stairway behind her. She turned her head slightly. Lorry, bootedand spurred, stood just within the doorway. He had something in hishand; a peculiarly shaped bundle wrapped loosely in a newspaper. Hardywas talking to Waring. The undersheriff was standing close to Waring'shorse. Alice Weston had seen the glint in Lorry's eyes. She held herbreath.
Without a word of warning,
and before the group on the veranda knew whatwas happening, Lorry shot from the doorway, leaped from the edge of theveranda rail, and alighted square in the saddle of Waring's horse, Dex.The buckskin whirled and dashed down the road, one rein dragging. Lorryreached down, and with a sinuous sweep of his body recovered the looserein. As he swung round the first corner he waved something that lookedstrangely like a club in a kind of farewell salute.
Alice Weston had risen. The undersheriff grabbed the reins of the horsenearest him and mounted. Hardy ran to the other horse. Side by side theyraced down the street and disappeared round a corner.
"What is it?" queried Alice Weston.
Waring still sat on the steps. He was laughing when he turned to answerthe girl's question.
"Lorry and the sheriff had a little argument. Lorry didn't wait tofinish it. It was something about that hobo that bothered youyesterday."
Alice crushed her handkerchief to her mouth. "I--shall we get ready fordinner?" she stammered.
Mrs. Weston rose. "It's nothing serious, I hope. Do you think your--Mr.Adams will be back to-night?"
"Not this evening," replied Waring.
"You mean that he won't be back at all?"
"Not unless he changes his mind. He's riding my horse."
"He took your horse?"
"Yes. I think he made a mistake in leaving so suddenly, but he didn'tmake any mistake about the best horse."
"Aren't you worried about him?" queried Mrs. Weston.
"Why, no. The boy will take care of himself. Did you happen to noticewhat he had in his hand when he ran across the veranda?"
"No. It happened so suddenly. Was it a pistol?"
Waring grinned. "No. It was a shoulder of lamb. The next town is thirtymiles south, and no restaurants on the way."
"But his mother--" began Alice Weston.
"Yes," said Waring. "I think that leg of lamb was for dinner to-night."
Alice Weston said nothing further, but as she got ready for dinner sheconfessed to herself that the event of Lorry's escape would have beenmuch more thrilling, in retrospect at least, had he chosen to wave hishasty farewell with a silken bandanna, or even a pistol. To ride offlike that, waving a leg of lamb!