The Strange Case of Cavendish

  CHAPTER XVII: IN THE SHOSHONE DESERT

  Her guard spoke no word as the wagon rolled slowly onward, but shejudged that he leaned back against the bow supporting the canvas in aneffort to make himself as comfortable as possible. She could seenothing of the fellow in the darkness, but had formed an impressionthat he was of medium size, his face covered with a scraggly beard.The driver sat bundled up in formless perspective against the line ofsky, but she knew from his voice that he was the man who had firstaccosted her. In small measure this knowledge afforded some degree ofcourage, for he had then appeared less brutal, more approachable thanthe others. Perhaps she might lead him to talk, once they were alonetogether, and thus learn the purpose of this outrage.

  Yet deep down in her mind she felt little doubt of the object in view,or who were involved. Excited as she was, and frightened, the girl wasstill composed enough to grasp the nature of her surroundings, and shehad time now, as the wagon rumbled forward, to think over all that hadbeen said, and fit it into the circumstances.

  Moreover she had recognised another voice--although the speaker hadkept out of sight, and spoken only in disguised, rumbling tones--thatof Ned Beaton. The fact of his presence alone served to make theaffair reasonably clear. The telegram stolen from her room by Miss LaRue had led to this action. They had suspected her before, but thathad served to confirm their suspicions, and as soon as it had beenshown to Enright, he had determined to place her where she would behelpless to interfere with their plans.

  But what did they propose doing with her? The question caused herblood to run cold. That these people were desperate she had everyreason to believe; they were battling for big stakes: not even murderhad hitherto stood in their way? Why then, should they hesitate totake her life, if they actually deemed it necessary to the finalsuccess of their plans? She remembered what Beaton had said about herroom--the condition in which it had been left. It was not all clear,yet it was clear enough, that they had taken every precaution to makeher sudden disappearance appear natural. They had removed all herthings, and left a note behind in womanly handwriting to explain herhurried departure. There was a master criminal mind, watchful of everydetail, behind this conspiracy. He was guarding against everypossibility of rescue.

  The driver began to use his whip and urge the team forward, the wagonpounding along over the rough road at a rate which compelled the girlto hang on closely to keep her seat. The man beside her bounced about,and swore, but made no effort to touch her, or open conversation. Theuncertainty, the fear engendered by her thought, the drear silencealmost caused her to scream. She conquered this, yet could remainspeechless no longer.

  "Where are you taking me?" she asked suddenly.

  There was no reply, and she stared toward her silent companion, unableto even perceive his outlines. His silence sent a thrill of angerthrough her, and she lost control. Her hand gripped the coarseshirt-sleeve in determination to compel him to speak.

  "Answer me or I'll scream!"

  He chuckled grimly, not in the least alarmed.

  "Little good that'll do yer now, young woman," he said gruffly, and thedriver turned his head at the sound, "unless yer voice will carry fivemiles or so; where are we now, Matt?"

  "Comin' down ter the Big Slough," answered the other, expectoratingover the wheel, and flickering a horse with his whip-lash. "'Twouldn'tdo no harm now ter fasten back the canvas, Joe; maybe she'd feel a bitmore ter home that away."

  There was a good-natured drawl to the voice which had a tendency tohearten the girl. The driver seemed human, sympathetic: perhaps hewould respond to questioning. The other merely grunted, and began tounloosen the cover. She leaned forward, and addressed the rounded backof the fellow in front.

  "Are you Mr. Moore?"

  He wheeled partly about, surprised into acknowledgment.

  "Well, I ain't heered the mister part fer some time, but my name's MattMoore, though, how the hell did you know it?"

  "The other man called you by name--don't you remember? Besides I hadheard about you before."

  "Well, I'll be damned. Do yer hear that, Joe? Who told yer 'bout me?"

  "Mr. Westcott; he mentioned you as being one of the men who attackedhim in the hotel office yesterday. He said you were one of Lacy's men.So when I heard your name mentioned to-night I knew in whose hands Ihad fallen. Was the brute who ordered you about Bill Lacy?"

  "I reckon it was, miss," doubtfully. "It don't make no difference,does it, Joe?"

  "Not as I kin see," growled the other. "Leastwise, her knowin' thetmuch. 'Tain't likely to do her no good, whichever way the cat jumps.I reckon I'll have a smoke, Matt; I'm dry as a fish."

  "Same here; 'bout an hour till daylight, I reckon, Joe; pass theterbacco after yer light up."

  The glow of the match gave her swift view of the man's face; it wasstrange and by no means reassuring, showing hard, repulsive, thecomplexion as dark as an Indian's, the eyes bold and a bit bloodshotfrom drink. Meeting her glance, he grinned unpleasantly.

  "I don't pose fer no lady's man, like Matt," he said sneeringly, thematch flaring between his fingers. "That's what Bill sent me 'longfer, 'cause he know'd I'd 'tend ter business, an' not talk too much."

  "Your name is Joe?"

  "Out yere--yes; Joe Sikes, if it pleases yer eny ter know. Yer mightcall me Mr. Sikes, if yer want ter be real polite."

  He passed the tobacco-bag up to Moore, who thrust the reins under himwhile deliberately filling his pipe, the team trotting quietly alongwhat seemed to be a hard road. The wagon lurched occasionally, as thewheels struck a stone, but the night was still so dark, the girl couldperceive little of their surroundings in spite of the looped-upcurtains. There seemed to be a high ridge of earth to their right,crowned by a fringe of low trees, but everything appeared indistinctand desolate. Outside the rumble of their own progress the silence wasprofound.

  "And you will not tell me where we are going?" she insisted, "or whatyou propose doing with me?"

  The pipe-glow revealed Sikes's evil countenance; Moore resumed hisreins, and there was the sharp swish of a whip lash.

  "'Twouldn't mean nuthin' ter yer if I did," said the former finally,after apparently turning the matter over slowly in his mind. "Yerdon't know nuthin' 'bout this country. 'Tain't no place a tenderfootlike you kin find yer way back frum; so, as fer as I see, thar ain'tnuthin' fer yer to do but just naturally wait till we takes yer back."

  "I am to be held a prisoner--indefinitely?"

  "I reckon so; not that I knows enything 'bout the programme, miss; butthat's 'bout the understandin' that Matt an' I has--ain't it, Matt?"

  The driver turned his head, and nodded.

  "Sure; we're just ter take keer of yer till he comes."

  "Lacy?"

  "Er--some word from him, miss. It might not be safe for him to comehimself. Yer see," apologetically, "I don't just know what the gameis, and Bill might want to skip out before you was turned loose. Iknowed wunst when he was gone eight months, an' nobody knowed where hewas--do yer mind thet time, Joe, after he shot up Medicine Lodge?Well, I reckon thar must be some big money in this job, an' he won'ttake no chance of gettin' pinched. That seems to be the trouble,miss--you've sorter stuck yerself in whar it warn't none o' yerbusiness. Thet's what got Lacy down on yer."

  "Yes; but what is it to you, and--and Mr. Sikes, here?"

  Matt grinned.

  "Nuthin' much ter me, or ter--ter Mr. Sikes--how's it sound,Joe?--'cept maybe a slice o' coin. Still there's reason fer us bothter jump when Bill Lacy whistles. Enyhow thar ain't no use a talkin''bout it, fer we've got ter do what we're told. So let's shut up."

  "You say you do not know what this all means?"

  "No, an' what's more, we don't give a damn."

  "But if I told you it was robbery and murder---that you were aiding inthe commission of crime!"

  "It wouldn't make a plum bit o' difference, ma'm," said Sikesdeliberately, "we never reckoned it wus enything else--so yer mi
ghtjust as well stop hollerin', fer yer goin' whar we take yer, an' ye'llstay thar till Bill Lacy says yer ter go. Hit 'em up, Matt; I'm plum'tired of talkin'."

  The grey dawn came at last, spectral and ghastly, gradually yieldingglimpse of the surroundings. They were travelling steadily south, thehorses beginning to exhibit traces of weariness, yet still keeping up adogged trot. All about extended a wild, desolate scene of rock andsand, bounded on every horizon by barren ridges. The only vegetationwas sage brush, while the trail, scarcely visible to the eye, wouldcircle here and there among grotesque formations, and occasionallyseemed to disappear altogether. Nowhere was there slightest sign oflife--no bird, no beast, no snake even, crossed their path. All wasdead, silent, stricken with desolation. The spires and chimneys ofrock, ugly and distorted in form, assumed strange shapes in the greydusk. It was all grey wherever the eyes turned; grey of all shades,grey sand, grey rocks, grey over-arching sky, relieved only by the softpurple of the sage--a picture of utter loneliness, of intensedesolation, which was a horror. The eye found nothing to rest upon--nolandmark, no distant tree, no gleam of water, no flash of colour--onlythat dull monotony of drab, motionless, and with no apparent end.

  Stella stared about at it, and closed her eyes, unable to bear thesight; her head drooped wearily, every nerve giving away before thedepressing scene outspread in every direction. Sikes, watching herslightest movement, seemed to sense the meaning of the action.

  "Hell, ain't it?" he said expressively. "You know whar we are?"

  "No; but I never before dreamed any spot could be so terrible."

  "This is the Shoshone desert; thar ain't nobody ever comes in yere'cept wunst in a while a prospector, maybe, er a band o' cattlerustlers. Even the Injuns keep out."

  She lifted her eyes again, shuddering as they swept about over thedismal waste.

  "But there is a trail; you could not become lost?"

  "Well, yer might call it a trail, tho' thar ain't much left of it aftera sand storm. I reckon thar ain't so many as could follow it any timeo' year, but Matt knows the way all right--you don't need to worry noneabout that. He's drove many a load along yere--hey, Matt?"

  "You bet; I've got it all marked out, the same as a pilot on theMissouri. Ye see that sway-back ridge yonder?" pointing with his whipinto the distance ahead. "That's what I'm headin' for now an' when Igit thar a round rock will show up down a sorter gully. Furst time Icame over yere long with Lacy, I wrote all these yere things down."

  Conversation ceased, the drear depression of the scene resting heavilyon the minds of all three. Moore sat humped shapelessly in his seat,permitting the horses to toil on wearily, the wagon rumbling alongacross the hard packed sand, the wheels leaving scarcely a mark behind.Sikes stared gloomily out on his side, the rifle still between hisknees, his jaws working vigorously on a fresh chew of tobacco. Stellalooked at the two men, their faces now clearly revealed in thebrightening dawn, but the survey brought little comfort. Sikes wasevidently of wild blood--a half-breed, if his swarthy skin and highcheek bones meant any characteristics of race--scarcely more than asavage by nature, and rendered even more decadent by the ravages ofdrink. He was sober enough now, but this only left him the more moroseand sullen, his bloodshot eyes ugly and malignant. The girl shrankfrom him as a full realisation of what the man truly was came to herwith this first distinct view.

  Moore was a much younger man, his face roughened, and tanned, to almostthe colour of mahogany, yet somehow retaining a youthful look. He wasnot unprepossessing in a bold, daring way; a fellow who would seekadventure, and meet danger with a laugh. He turned as she looked athim, and grinned back at her, pointing humorously to a badlydiscoloured eye.

  "Friend o' yours gave me that," he admitted, quite as a matter ofcourse. "Did a good job, too."

  "A friend of mine?" in surprise.

  "Sure; you're a friend o' Jim Westcott, ain't yer? Lacy said so, andJim's the laddy-buck who whaled me."

  "Mr. Westcott! When?"

  "Last night. You see it was this way. I caught him hanging round theoffice at La Rosita, an' we had a fight. I don't just know what I didto him, but that's part o' what he did to me. I never knowed muchabout him afore, but he's sure some scrapper; an' I had a knife in myfist, too."

  "Then--then," her breath choking her, "he got away?"

  Moore laughed, no evidence of animosity in his actions.

  "I reckon so, miss. I ain't seen nuthin' of him since, an' the wayBill Lacy wus cussing when I got breathin' straight agin would 'a'shocked a coyote. He'll git him, though."

  "Get him?"

  "Sure--Bill will. He always gets his man. I've seen more'n one fellowtry to put something over on Lacy, but it never worked in the end.He's hell on the trigger, an' the next time he and Bill come together,Westcott's bound to get his. Ain't that the truth, Joe?"

  Sikes nodded his head, a gleam of appreciation in his eyes.

  "I'd like fer to see the scrap," he said slowly. "They tell meWestcott ain't so slow on the draw--but Bill will get him!"

  The sun rose a red ball of fire, colouring the ridges of sand, andpainting the grotesque rocks with crimson streamers. As it ascendedhigher into the pale blue of the sky the heat-waves began to sweepacross the sandy waste. In the shadow of a bald cliff the wagon washalted briefly, and the two men brought forth materials from within,making a hasty fire, and preparing breakfast. Water was given the teamalso, before the journey was resumed; while during the brief halt thegirl was left to do as she pleased. Then they moved on again,surrounded by the same drear landscape, the very depression of itkeeping them silent. Sikes nodded sleepily, his head against a wagonbow. Once Moore roused up, pointing into the distance with one hand.

  "What do yer make o' that out thar?" he asked sharply. "'Tain't ahuman, is it?"

  Sikes straightened up with a start, and stared blankly in the directionindicated. Apparently he could perceive nothing clearly, for hereached back into the wagon-box, and drew forth a battered field-glass,quickly adjusting it to his eyes. Stella's keener vision made out ablack, indistinct figure moving against the yellow background of a faraway sand-ridge, and she stood up, clinging to Moore's seat, to gain abetter view. Sikes got the object in focus.

  "Nothin' doing," he announced. "It's travellin' on four legs--a b'ar,likely, although I never afore heard of a b'ar being in yere."

  They settled down to the same monotony, mile after mile. The waybecame rockier with less sand, but with no more evidence of life. Ahigh cliff rose menacingly to their right, bare of the slightest traceof vegetation, while in the opposite direction the plain assumed a deadlevel, mirages appearing occasionally in the far distance. Far awayahead a strange buttress of rock rose into the sky resembling theturret of a huge castle. The sun was directly overhead when Mooreturned his team suddenly to the left, and drove down a sharp declivityleading into a ravine.

  "Drop the canvas, Joe," he said shortly, "there's only 'bout a milemore."