Chapter XVIII
_A Piece of Paper_
In the little desert hotel at Stacey, Mrs. Adams was singing softly toherself as she moved about the dining-room helping Anita clear away thebreakfast dishes. Mrs. Adams had heard from Lorry. He had secured aplace in the Ranger Service. She was happy. His letter had been filledwith enthusiasm for the work and for his chief, Bud Shoop. This initself was enough to make her happy. She had known Bud in Las Cruces. Hewas a good man. And then--Jim had settled down. Only last week he hadridden over and told her how they were getting on with the work at theranch. He had hinted then that he had laid his guns away. Perhaps he hadwanted her to know _that_ more than anything else. She had kissed himgood-bye. His gray eyes had been kind. "Some day, Annie," he had said.Her face flushed as she recalled the moment.
A boot-heel gritted on the walk. She turned. Waring was standing in thedoorway. His face was set and hard. Involuntarily she ran to him.
"What is it, Jim? Lorry?"
He shook his head. She saw at once that he was dressed for a long rideand that--an unusual circumstance--a gun swung at his hip. He usuallywore a coat and carried his gun in a shoulder holster. But now he wasin his shirt-sleeves. A dread oppressed her. He was ready on the instantto fight, but with whom? Her eyes grew big.
"What is it?" she whispered again.
"The Brewster boys got Pat."
"Not--they didn't kill him!"
Waring nodded.
"But, Jim--"
"In the Red Arroyo on the desert road. I found him. I came to tell you."
"And you are going--"
"Yes. I was afraid this would happen. Pat made a mistake."
"But, Jim! The law--the sheriff--you don't have to go."
"No," he said slowly.
"Then why do you go? I thought you would never do that again.I--I--prayed for you, Jim. I prayed for you and Lorry. I asked God tosend you back to me with your two hands clean. I told Him you wouldnever kill again. Oh, Jim, I wanted you--here! Don't!" she sobbed.
He put his arm round her shoulders. Stooping, he kissed her.
"You are going?" she asked, and her hands dropped to her sides.
"Yes; I told Pat I would get Brewster. Pat went out with his hand inmine on that word. My God, Annie, do you think I could ride back to theranch and face the boys or sleep nights with Pat's hand reaching for mein the dark to remind me of my word? Can't you see where I stand? Do youthink I could look Lorry in the face when he knew that I sat idle whilethe man that murdered Pat was riding the country free?"
"Pat was your friend. I am your wife," said Mrs. Adams.
Waring's lips hardened. "Pat's gone. But I'm calling myself his friendyet. And the man that got him is going to know it."
Before she could speak again Waring was gone.
She dropped to a chair and buried her face in her arms. Anita came toher and tried to comfort her. But Mrs. Adams rose and walked to theoffice doorway. She saw Waring riding down the street. She wanted tocall out to him, to call him back. She felt that he was riding to hisdeath. If he would only turn! If he would only wave his hand to showthat he cared--But Waring rode on, straight and stern, black hate in hisheart, his free hand hollowed as though with an invisible vengeance thatwas gone as he drew his fingers tense.
He rode north, toward the Starr Ranch. He passed a group of ridersdrifting some yearlings toward town. A man spoke to him. He did notreply.
And as he rode he heard a voice--the Voice of his desert wanderings, theVoice that had whispered to him from the embers of many a night fire inthe Southern solitudes. Yet there, was this difference. That voice hadbeen strangely dispassionate, detached; not the voice of a human being.But now the Voice was that of his friend Pat softly reiterating: "Notthis way, Jim."
And Waring cursed. His plan was made. He would suffer no interference.If Brewster were at the Starr Ranch, he would question him first. If hewere not, there would be no questioning. Waring determined to trail him.If Brewster had left that part of the country, that would prove hisguilt.
Waring knew that Hardy and his men had ridden south, endeavoring to findsome clue to the murderer's whereabouts. Waring, guided by almostabsolute knowledge, rode in the opposite direction and against a keeninstinct that told him High-Chin Bob was not at the ranch. Yet Waringwould not overlook the slightest chance. Brewster was of the type thatwould kill a man in a quarrel and ride home, depending on his nerve andlack of evidence to escape punishment.
The Voice had said, "Not this way, Jim." And Waring knew that it hadbeen the voice of his own instinct. Yet a stubborn purpose held him tohis course. There was one chance in a thousand that Bob Brewster was atthe ranch and would disclaim all knowledge of the shooting.
Starr was away when Waring arrived. Mrs. Starr made Waring welcome, andtold him that her husband would be in that evening. He was out with oneof his men running a line for a new fence. The old days of open rangewere past. And had Mr. Waring heard that Pat had been killed? Buck Hardywas out searching for the murderer. Did Mr. Waring know of a likelyforeman? Bob Brewster had left suddenly. Jasper--her husband--was notwell: had the rheumatics again. He could hardly walk--and his foremanhad left. "Things always happened that way."
Mrs. Starr paused for lack of breath.
"When did Brewster leave, Mrs. Starr?"
"Why, the last Jasper seen of him was Wednesday morning. Jasper isworried. I'm right glad you rode over. He'll be glad to see you."
"Do you mind if I look over the horses in your corral?"
"Goodness, no! I'll have Sammy go with you--"
"Thanks; but I'd rather you said nothing to the boys."
"You don't think that Bob--"
"Mrs. Starr, I wouldn't say so if I knew it. Bob Brewster has friends uphere. I'm looking for one of them."
"Goodness, Mr. Waring, I hope you don't think any of our boys was mixedup in that."
"I hope not. Have you seen Tony or Andy Brewster lately?"
"Why, no. I--why, yes! Tony and Andy rode over last Sunday. I rememberit was Sunday because Bob was out to the line shack. Tony and Andy hungaround for a while, and then rode out to look for Bob."
"Well, I'll step over and look at the horses. You say Jasper will be inthis evening?"
"If he ain't too stiff with rheumatics to ride back."
Waring walked round the corrals, looking for a pony lame forward andwith half a front shoe gone. Finally he noticed a short-coupled bay thathad not moved when he had waved his arm. Waring climbed through the barsand cornered the horse. One front shoe was entirely gone, and the ponylimped as Waring turned him loose.
Mrs. Starr was getting supper when Waring returned to the house.
"Any of the boys coming in with Jasper?" he queried.
"Why, nobody except Pete. Pete's been layin' off. He claims his horsestepped in a gopher hole and threw him. Jasper took him along, feelin'like he wanted some one on account of his rheumatics. Jasper gets sostiff ridin' that sometimes he can hardly get on his horse. Mebby younoticed Pete's pony, that chunky bay in the corral--lame forward."
"Yes, I noticed that. But that pony didn't step in a gopher hole. He wasridden down by some one in a hurry to get somewhere. He cast a shoe andwent tender on the rocks."
Mrs. Starr stared at Waring.
He shook his head and smiled. "I don't know. I can only guess at it."
"Well, you'll stay for supper--and you can talk to Jasper. He'sworried."
"Thank you. And would you mind asking this man Pete in to supper withus?"
"I figured to, him being with Jasper and not feeling right well."
About sundown Starr rode in. Waring helped him from his horse. Theyshook hands in silence. The old cattleman knew at once why Waring hadcome, but he had no inkling of what was to follow.
The cowboy, Pete, took care of the horses. A little later he clumpedinto the house and took a seat in a corner. Waring paid no attention tohim, but talked with Starr about the grazing and the weather.
Just before supper Sta
rr introduced Waring.
The cowboy winced at Waring's grip. "Heard tell of you from the boys,"he said.
"You want to ride over to our place," said Waring pleasantly. "Pat and Iwill show you some pretty land under fence."
The cowboy's eyelids flickered. How could this man Waring speak of Patthat way, when he must know that Pat had been killed? Everybody knewthat. Why didn't Mrs. Starr or Starr say something? But Starr waslimping to the table, and Mrs. Starr was telling them to come and havesupper.
In the glow of the hanging lamp, Starr's lined, grizzled features wereas unreadable as carved bronze. Waring, at his left, sat directlyopposite the cowboy, Pete. The talk drifted from one subject to another,but no one mentioned the killing of Pat. Waring noted the cowboy's lackof appetite.
"I looked over your saddle-stock this afternoon," said Waring. "Noticedyou had a bay out there, white blaze on his nose. You don't want to sellthat pony, do you?"
"Oh, that's Pete's pony, Baldy," said Mrs. Starr.
Starr glanced at Waring. The horse Baldy was good enough as cow-ponieswent, but Waring had not ridden over to buy horses.
"I aim to keep that cayuse," said Pete, swallowing hard.
"But every man has his price,"--and Waring smiled. "I'll make my offer;a hundred, cash."
"Not this evenin'," said the cowboy.
Waring felt in the pocket of his flannel shirt. "I'll go you one better.I'll make it a hundred, cash, and this to boot." And his armstraightened.
Pete started back. Waring's hand was on the table, the fingers closed.His fingers slowly opened, and a crumpled piece of paper lay in hispalm. The cowboy's lips tightened. His eyes shifted from Waring toStarr, and then back again.
Mrs. Starr, who could not understand the strange silence of the men,breathed hard and wiped her forehead with her apron.
"Read it!" said Waring sharply.
The cowboy took the piece of paper, and, spreading it out, glanced at ithurriedly.
"This ain't for me," he asserted.
"Did you ever see it before?"
"This? No. What have I got to do with the sheriff's office?"
"Pete," said Waring, drawing back his hand, "you had better read thatnote again."
"Why, I--Pete can't read," said Mrs. Starr. "He can spell out printedreading some, but not writing."
"Then how did you know this paper was from the sheriff's office?"queried Waring.
The cowboy half rose.
"Sit down!" thundered Waring. "Who sent you with a note to Pat lastWednesday?"
"Who said anybody sent me?"
"Don't waste time! I say so. That broken shoe your cayuse cast says so,for I trailed him from my ranch to the line fence. And you have said soyourself. This paper is not from the sheriff's office. It's a taxreceipt."
The cowboy's face went white.
"Honest, so help me, Mr. Waring, I didn't know the Brewster boys wasafter Pat. Bob he give me the paper. Said it was from the sheriff, andI was to give it to Pat if you weren't around."
"And if I happened to be around?"
"I was to wait until you was out with the fence gang--"
"How did you know I would be out with them?"
"Bob Brewster told me you would be."
Waring folded the piece of paper and tore it across.
"Starr," he said, turning to the old cattleman, "you have heard and seenwhat has happened since we sat down." And Waring turned on the cowboy."How much did Bob Brewster give you for this work?"
"I was to get fifty dollars if I put it through."
"And you put it through! You knew it was crooked. And you call yourselfa man! And you took a letter to Pat that called him out to be shot downby that coyote! Do you know that Pat's gun was loaded when I found it;that he didn't have a chance?"
Waring's face grew suddenly old. He leaned back wearily.
"I wonder just how you feel?" he said presently. "If I had done a tricklike that I'd take a gun and blow my brains out. God, I'd rather bewhere Pat is than have to carry your load the rest of my life! Butyou're yellow clean through, and Bob Brewster knew it and hired you. Nowyou will take that lame cayuse and ride north just as quick as you canthrow a saddle on him. And when you go,"--and Waring rose and pointedtoward the doorway,--"forget the way back to this country."
The cowboy shuffled his feet and picked up his hat. Starr got up stifflyand limped to his room. He came out with a check, which he gave to thecowboy.
Waring pushed back his chair as though to step round the table andfollow the cowboy, but he hesitated, and finally sat down.
"I'm sorry it happened this way, Mrs. Starr," he said.
"It's awful! And one of our men!"
"That's not your fault, Mrs. Starr."
Starr fumbled along the clock shelf, found his pipe, and lighted it. Hesat down near Waring as Mrs. Starr began to clear away the dishes.
"If I can do anything to help run down that white-livered skunk--"
"You can, Jasper. Just keep it to yourself that I have been here. Peteleft of his own accord. I don't want the Brewster boys to know I'm outon their trail."
Starr nodded and glanced at his wife. "I looked to see you kill him," hesaid, gesturing toward the doorway.
"What! That poor fool? I thought you knew me better, Jasper."