Chapter XXIII
_Like One Who Sleeps_
Bondsman sat in the doorway of the supervisor's office, gazingdejectedly at the store across the street. He knew that his master hadgone to St. Johns and would go to Stacey. He had been told all aboutthat, and had followed Shoop to the automobile stage, where it stood,sand-scarred, muddy, and ragged as to tires, in front of thepost-office. Bondsman had watched the driver rope the lean mail bags tothe running-board, crank up the sturdy old road warrior of the desert,and step in beside the supervisor. There had been no other passengers.And while Shoop had told Bondsman that he would be away some littletime, Bondsman would have known it without the telling. His master hadworn a coat--a black coat--and a new black Stetson. Moreover, he haddonned a white shirt and a narrow hint of a collar with a black"shoe-string" necktie. If Bondsman had lacked any further proof of hismaster's intention to journey far, the canvas telescope suitcase wouldhave been conclusive evidence.
The dog sat in the doorway of the office, oblivious to the clerk'sfriendly assurances that his master would return poco tiempo. Bondsmanwas not deceived by this kindly attempt to soothe his loneliness.
Toward evening the up-stage buzzed into town. Bondsman trotted over toit, watched a rancher and his wife alight, sniffed at them incuriously,and trotted back to the office. That settled it. His master would beaway indefinitely.
When the clerk locked up that evening, Bondsman had disappeared.
As Bronson stepped from his cabin the following morning he was startledto see the big Airedale leap from the veranda of Shoop's cabin and boundtoward him. Then he understood. The camp had been Bondsman's home. Thesupervisor had gone to Criswell. Evidently the dog preferred the lonelyfreedom of the Blue Mesa to the monotonous confines of town.
Bronson called to his daughter. "We have a visitor this morning,Dorothy."
"Why, it's Bondsman! Where is Mr. Shoop?"
"Most natural question. Mr. Shoop had to leave Jason on business.Bondsman couldn't go, so he trotted up here to pay us a visit."
"He's hungry. I know it. Come, Bondsman."
From that moment he attached himself to Dorothy, following her aboutthat day and the next and the next. But when night came he invariablytrotted over to Shoop's cabin and slept on the veranda. Dorothy wonderedwhy he would not sleep at their camp.
"He's very friendly," she told her father. "He will play and chasesticks and growl, and pretend to bite when I tickle him, but he does itall with a kind of mental reservation. Yesterday, when we were havingour regular frolic after breakfast, he stopped suddenly and stoodlooking out across the mesa, and it was only my pony, just coming fromthe edge of the woods. Bondsman tries to be polite, but he is reallyjust passing the time while he is waiting for Mr. Shoop."
"You don't feel flattered, perhaps. But don't you admire him all themore for it?"
"I believe I do. Poor Bondsman! It's just like being a social pet, isn'tit? Have to appear happy whether you are or not."
Bondsman knew that she proffered sympathy, and he licked her handlazily, gazing up at her with bright, unreadable eyes.
* * * * *
Bud Shoop wasted no time in Stacey. He puffed into the hotel, indecisionbehind him and a definite object in view.
"No use talkin'," he said to Mrs. Adams. "We got to go and take care ofJim. I couldn't get word to Lorry. No tellin' where to locate him justnow. Mebby it's just as well. They's a train west along about midnight.Now, you get somebody to stay here till we get back--"
"But, Mr. Shoop! I can't leave like this. I haven't a thing ready. Anitacan't manage alone."
"Well, if that's all, I admire to say that I'll set right down and runthis here hotel myself till you get back. But it ain't right, yourtravelin' down there alone. We used to be right good friends, Annie. Doyou reckon I'd tell you to go see Jim if it wa'n't right? If he everneeded you, it's right now. If he's goin' to get well, your bein'there'll help him a pow'ful sight. And if he ain't, you ought to bethere, anyhow."
"I know it, Bud. I wish Lorry was here."
"I don't. I'm mighty glad he's out there where he is. What do you thinkhe'd do if he knowed Jim was shot up?"
"He would go to his father--"
"Uh-uh?"
"And--"
"Go ahead. You wa'n't born yesterday."
"He would listen to me," she concluded weakly.
"Yep. But only while you was talkin'. That boy is your boy all right,but he's got a lot of Jim Waring under his hide. And if you want to keepthat there hide from gettin' shot full of holes by a no-account outlaw,you'll just pack up and come along."
Bud wiped his forehead, and puffed. This sort of thing was not exactlyin his line.
"Here's the point, Annie," he continued. "If I get there afore Lorry,and you're there, he won't get into trouble. Mebby you could hold himwith your hand on the bridle, but he's runnin' loose right where he is.Can't you get some lady in town to run the place?"
"I don't know. I'll see."
Bud heaved a sigh. It was noticeably warmer in Stacey than at Jason.
Bud's reasoning, while rough, had appealed to Mrs. Adams. She felt thatshe ought to go. She had only needed some such impetus to send herstraight to Waring. The town marshal's telegram had stunned her. Sheknew that her husband had followed the Brewsters, but she had notanticipated the awful result of his quest. In former times he had alwayscome back to her, taking up the routine of their home life quietly. Butthis time he had not come back. If only he had listened to her! And deepin her heart she felt that old jealousy for the lure which had so oftencalled him from her to ride the grim trails of his profession. But thistime he had not come back. She would go to him, and never leave himagain.
Anita thought she knew of a woman who would take charge of the hotelduring Mrs. Adams's absence. Without waiting for an assurance of this,Bud purchased tickets, sent a letter to his clerk, and spent half anhour in the barber shop.
"Somebody dead?" queried the barber as Bud settled himself in the chair.
"Not that I heard of. Why?"
"Oh, nothing, Mr. Shoop. I seen that you was dressed in black and had ona black tie--"
Later, as Bud surveyed himself in the glass, trying ineffectually tododge the barber's persistent whisk-broom, he decided that he did look abit funereal. And when he appeared at the supper table that evening hewore an ambitious four-in-hand tie of red and yellow. There was going tobe no funeral or anything that looked like it, if he knew it.
Aboard the midnight train he made Mrs. Adams comfortable in the chaircar. It was but a few hours' run to The Junction. He went to the smoker,took off his coat, and lit a cigar. Around him men sprawled in all sortsof awkward attitudes, sleeping or trying to sleep. He had heard nothingfurther about Waring's fight with the Brewsters. They might still be atlarge. But he doubted it. If they were--Shoop recalled the friendlyshooting contest with High-Chin Bob. If High Chin were riding thecountry, doubtless he would be headed south. But if he should happen tocross Shoop's trail by accident--Bud shook his head. He would not lookfor trouble, but if it came his way it would bump into something solid.
Shoop had buckled on his gun before leaving Jason. His position assupervisor made him automatically a deputy sheriff. But had he beennothing more than a citizen homesteader, his aim would have been quiteas sincere.
It was nearly daylight when they arrived at The Junction. Shoopaccompanied Mrs. Adams to a hotel. After breakfast he went out to get abuck-board and team. Criswell was not on the line of the railroad.
They arrived in Criswell that evening, and were directed to themarshal's house, where Ramon met them.
"How's Jim?" was Shoop's immediate query.
"The Senor Jim is like one who sleeps," said Ramon.
Mrs. Adams grasped Shoop's arm.
"He wakens only when the doctor is come. He has spoken your name,senora."
The marshal's wife, a thin, worried-looking woman, apologized for theuntidy condition of her home, the reason for wh
ich she wished to makeobvious. She was of the type which Shoop designated to himself as"vinegar and salt."
"Reckon I better go in first, Annie?"
"No." And Mrs. Adams opened the door indicated by the other woman.
Shoop caught a glimpse of a white face. The door closed softly. Shoopturned to Ramon.
"Let's go take a smoke, eh?"
Ramon led the way down the street and on out toward the desert. At theedge of town, he paused and pointed across the spaces.
"It was out there, senor. I found him. The others were not found untilthe morning. I did not know that they were there."
"The others? How many?"
"Three. One will live, but he will never ride again. The others, Highof the Chin and his brother, were buried by the marshal. None came toclaim them."
"Were you in it?"
"No, senor. It was alone that Senor Jim fought them. He followed themout there alone. I come and I ask where he is gone. I find him thatnight. I do not know that he is alive."
"What became of his horse?"
"Dex he come back with no one on him. It is then that I tell Dex to findfor me the Senor Jim."
"And he trailed back to where Jim went down, eh? Uh-uh! I got a dogmyself."
"Will the Senor Jim ride again?" queried Ramon.
"I dunno, boy, I dunno. But if you and me and the doc and thesenora--and mebby God--get busy, why, mebby he'll stand a chance. Howmany times was he hit?"
"Two times they shot him."
"Two, eh? Well, speakin' from experience, they was three mighty fastguns ag'in' him. Say five shots in each gun, which is fifteen. And hehad to reload, most-like, for he can empty a gun quicker than you canthink. Fifteen to five for a starter, and comin' at him from three waysto once. And he got the whole three of 'em! Do you know what that means,boy? But shucks! I'm forgettin' times has changed. How they been usin'you down here?"
"I am sleep in the hay by Dex."
"Uh-uh. Let that rest. Mebby it's a good thing, anyhow. Got any money?"
"No, senor. I have use all."
"Where d' you eat?"
"I have buy the can and the crackers at the store."
"Can and crackers, eh? Bet you ain't had a square meal for a week. Butwe'll fix that. Here, go 'long and buy some chuck till I get organized."
"Gracias, senor. But I can pray better when I do not eat so much."
"Good Lord! But, that's some idee! Well, if wishin' and hopin' and suchis prayin', I reckon Jim'll pull through. I reckon it's up to the missusnow."
"Lorry is not come?"
"Nope. Couldn't get to him. When does the mail go out of thisbone-hill?"
"I do not know. To-morrow or perhaps the next day."
"Uh-uh. Well, you get somethin' to eat, and then throw a saddle on Dexand I'll give you a couple of letters to take to The Junction. And, cometo think, you might as well keep right on fannin' it for Stacey andhome. They can use you over to the ranch. The missus and me'll take careof Senor Jim."
"I take the letter," said Ramon, "but I am come back. I am with theSenor Jim where he goes."
"Oh, very well, amigo. Might as well give a duck a bar of soap and askhim to take a bath as to tell you to leave Jim. Such is wastin' talk."