CHAPTER XXVII
CLINT FREES HIS MIND
Wadley was sitting on the porch with Ramona. He was still asemi-invalid, and when he exercised too much his daughter scolded himlike the little mother she was.
"Keep me here much longer, an' I'll turn into a regular old gossip inbreeches," he complained. "I'll be Jumbo Wilkins Number Two, like asnot."
"Is Jumbo a specialist in gossip?" asked Ramona. She liked to get herfather at reminiscences. It helped to pass time that hung heavy on hishands.
"Is he? Girl, he could talk a hind leg off'n a buckskin mule, Jumbocould." He stopped to chuckle. "Oncet, when we were drivin' a bunch ofyearlin's on the Brazos, one of the boys picked up an old skull. Prob'lysome poor fellow killed by the Indians. Anyhow, that night when Jumbowas wound up good, one of the lads pretended to discover that skull an'brought it into the camp-fire light. Some one had wrote on it: 'Talkedto death by Jumbo Wilkins.'"
'Mona rather missed the point. She was watching a man slouching down theroad toward them. He was heavy-set and unwieldy, and he wore a wrinkledsuit of butternut jeans.
The eyes of the cattleman chilled. "You go into the house, 'Mona. Thatfellow's Pete Dinsmore. I don't want you to meet him."
"Don't you, Dad?" The heart of the girl fluttered at sight of this manwho had nearly killed her father, but it was not fear but anger thatburned in her eyes. "I'm going to sit right here. What does he want?He's not coming--to make trouble, is he?"
"No. We've got business to settle. You run along in."
"I know what your business is. It's--about Ford."
He looked at her in surprised dismay. "Who told you that, honey?"
"I'll tell you about that after he's gone. I want to stay, Dad, to showhim that I know all about it, and that we're not going to let him carryout any blackmailing scheme against us."
Dinsmore nodded grouchily as he came up the walk to the house. Wadleydid not ask him to sit down, and since there were no unoccupied chairsthe rustler remained standing.
"I got to have a talk with you, Clint," the outlaw said. "Send yore girlinto the house."
"She'll listen to anything you have to say, Dinsmore. Get through withit soon as you can, an' hit the trail," said the cattleman curtly.
The other man flushed darkly. "You talk mighty biggity these days. Iremember when you wasn't nothin' but a busted line-rider."
"Mebbeso. And before that I was a soldier in the army while you wasdoin' guerrilla jayhawkin'."
"Go ahead. Say anything you've a mind to, Clint. I'll make you paybefore I'm through with you," answered the bad-man venomously.
"You will if you can; I know that. You're a bad lot, Dinsmore, you an'yore whole outfit. I'm glad Ellison an' his Rangers are goin' to clearyou out of the country. A sure-enough good riddance, if any one asksme."
The cattleman looked hard at him. He too had been a fighting man, but itwas not his reputation for gameness that restrained the ruffian. Wadleywas a notch too high for him. He could kill another bad-man or somedrunken loafer and get away with it. But he had seen the sentiment ofthe country when his brother had wounded the cattleman. It would not doto go too far. Times were changing in the Panhandle. Henceforthlawlessness would have to travel by night and work under cover. With thecoming of the Rangers, men who favored law were more outspoken. Dinsmorenoticed that they deferred less to him, partly, no doubt, because ofwhat that fool boy Roberts had done without having yet had to pay forit.
"That's what I've come to see you about, Wadley. I'm not lookin' fortrouble, but I never ran away from it in my life. No livin' man can layon me without hell poppin'. You know it."
"Is that what you came to tell me, Dinsmore?" asked the owner of theA T O, his mouth set grim and hard.
There was an ugly look on the face of the outlaw, a cold glitter ofanger in his deep-set eyes. "I hear you set the world an' all by thatgirl of yours there. Better send her in, Wadley. I'm loaded withstraight talk."
The girl leaned forward in the chair. She looked at him with a flash ofdisdainful eyes in which was a touch of feminine ferocity. But she lether father answer the man.
"Go on," said the old Texan. "Onload what you've got to say, an' thenpull yore freight."
"Suits me, Clint. I'm here to make a bargain with you. Call Ellison off.Make him let me an' my friends alone. If you don't, we're goin' totalk--about yore boy Ford." The man's upper lip lifted in a grin. Helooked first at the father, then at the daughter.
There was a tightening of the soft, round throat, but she met his lookwithout wincing. The pallor of her face lent accent to the contemptuousloathing of the slender girl.
"What are you goin' to say--that you murdered him, shot him down frombehind?" demanded Wadley.
"That's a lie, Clint. You know who killed him--an' why he did it. Fordcouldn't let the girls alone. I warned him as a friend, but he washell-bent on havin' his own way."
The voice of the cattleman trembled. "Some day--I'm goin' to hunt youdown like a wolf for what you did to my boy."
A lump jumped to Ramona's throat. She slipped her little hand into thebig one of her father, and with it went all her sympathy and all herlove.
"You're 'way off, Wadley. The boy was our friend. Why should we shoothim?" asked the man from the chaparral.
"Because he interfered with you when you robbed my messenger."
The startled eyes of the outlaw jumped to meet those of the cattleman.For a fraction of a second he was caught off his guard. Then the film ofwary craftiness covered them again.
"That's plumb foolishness, Clint. The Mexican--what's his name?--killedFord because he was jealous, an' if it hadn't been for you, he'd 'a'paid for it long ago. But that ain't what I came to talk about. I'm hereto tell you that I've got evidence to prove that Ford was a rustler an'a hold-up. If it comes to a showdown, we're goin' to tell what we know.Mebbe you want folks to know what kind of a brother yore girl had.That's up to you."
Wadley exploded in a sudden fury of passion. "I'll make no bargain withthe murderer of my boy. Get out of here, you damned yellow wolf. I don'twant any truck with you at all till I get a chance to stomp you downlike I would a rattler."
The bad-man bared his fangs. For one moment of horror Ramona thought hewas going to strike like the reptile to which her father had comparedhim. He glared at the cattleman, the impulse strong in him to kill andbe done with it. But the other side of him--the caution that had made itpossible for him to survive so long in a world of violent men--held hishand until the blood-lust passed from his brain.
"You've said a-plenty," he snarled thickly. "Me, I've made my last offerto you. It's war between me 'n' you from now on."
He turned away and went slouching down the path to the road.
The two on the porch watched him out of sight. The girl had slippedinside her father's arm and was sobbing softly on his shoulder.
"There, honeybug, now don't you--don't you," Clint comforted. "He cayn'tdo us any harm. Ellison's hot on his trail. I'll give him six months,an' then he's through. Don't you fret, sweetheart. Daddy will look outfor you all right."
"I--I wasn't thinking about me," she whispered.
Both of them were thinking of the dead boy and the threat to blackenhis memory, but neither of them confessed it to the other. Wadley castabout for something to divert her mind and found it in an unansweredquestion of his own.
"You was goin' to tell me how come you to know what he wanted to talkwith me about," the father reminded her.
"You remember that day when Arthur Ridley brought me home?"
He nodded assent.
"One of the Dinsmore gang--the one they call Steve Gurley--met me on thestreet. He was drunk, an' he stopped me to tell me about--Ford. I triedto pass, an' he wouldn't let me. He frightened me. Then Arthur an' Mr.Roberts came round the corner. Arthur came home with me, an'--you knowwhat happened in front of McGuffey's store."
The face of the girl had flushed a sudden scarlet. Her father stared ather in an amazement that gave way to unde
rstanding. Through his veinsthere crashed a wave of emotion. If he had held any secret grudgeagainst Tex Roberts, it vanished forever that moment. This was the kindof son he would have liked to have himself.
"By ginger, that was what he beat Gurley up for! Nobody knows why, an'Roberts kept the real reason under his hat. He's a prince, Jack Robertsis. I did that boy a wrong, 'Mona, an' guessed it all the time, justbecause he had a mixup with Ford. He wasn't to blame for that, anyhow,I've been told."
Ramona felt herself unaccountably trembling. There was a queer littlelump in her throat, but she knew it was born of gladness.
"He's been good to me," she said, and told of the experience with thetraveling salesman on the stage.
Clint Wadley laughed. "I never saw that boy's beat. He's got everythinga fellow needs to win. I can tell you one thing; he's goin' to get achance to run the A T O for me before he's forty-eight hours older.He'll be a good buy, no matter what salary he sticks me for."
'Mona became aware that she was going to break down--and "make a littlefool of herself," as she would have put it.
"I forgot to water my canary," she announced abruptly.
The girl jumped up, ran into the house and to her room. But if thecanary was suffering from thirst, it remained neglected. Ramona'stelltale face was buried in a pillow. She was not quite ready yet tolook into her own eyes and read the message they told.