CHAPTER XVI
THE AMBUSH
If Calumet had any regret over the outcome of his adventure in the RedDog, it was that Neal Taggart had given him no opportunity to squarethe account between them. Calumet had lingered in town until dusk, forhe had given his word and would not break it, and then, it beingcertain that his enemy had decided not to accept the challenge, hehitched his horses and just after dusk pulled out for the Lazy Y.Something had been added to the debt of hatred which he owed theTaggarts.
As he drove through the darkening land he yielded to a deepsatisfaction. He had struck one blow, a sudden and decisive one, and,though it had not landed on either of the Taggarts, it had at leastshown them what they might expect. He intended to deliver other blows,and he was rather glad now that he had not been so weak as to allowBetty's dictatorial attitude to drive him from the ranch, for in thatcase he would never have discovered the plot to cheat him of hisheritage--would not have been in a position to bring discomfiture andconfusion upon them all. That was what he was determined to do. Therewas no plan in his mind; he was merely going to keep his eyes open, andwhen opportunity came he was going to take advantage of it.
The darkness deepened as he drove. When he reached the crest of theslope from which that morning he had looked down upon Lazette, thewagon entered a stretch of broken country through which the horses madeslow progress. After traversing this section he encountered a flat,dull plain of sand, hard and smooth, which the horses appreciated, forthey traveled rapidly, straining willingly in the harness.
It was about nine o'clock when the moon rose, a pale yellow disk abovethe hills that rimmed the valley of the Lazy Y, and Calumet welcomed itwith a smile, lighting a cigarette and leaning back comfortably in theseat, with the reins held between his knees.
He presently thought of his weapons, drawing them out and reloadingthem. They recalled the incident of the Red Dog, and for a long timehis thoughts dwelt on it, straight, grim lines in his face.
He wondered what Betty would say when she heard of it. Would it affecther future relations with Taggart? His thoughts were still of Bettywhen the wagon careened out of the level and began to crawl up a slopethat led through some hills. The trail grew hazardous, and the horseswere forced to proceed slowly. It was near midnight when the wagondipped into a little gully about a mile and a half from the ranchhouse.Calumet halted the horses at the bottom of the gully, allowing them todrink from the shallow stream that trickled on its way to meet theriver which passed through the wood near the ranchhouse.
After the animals had drunk their fill he urged them on again, for hewas weary of the ride and anxious to have it over with. It was a longpull, however, and the horses made hard work of it, so that when theyreached the crest of the rise they halted of their own accord and stoodwith their legs braced, breathing heavily.
Calumet waited patiently. He was anxious to get to the Lazy Y, but hissympathy was with the horses. He rolled and lighted another cigarette,holding the match concealed in the palm of his hand so that the breezemight not extinguish it.
Sitting thus, a premonition of danger oppressed him with such force andsuddenness that it caused him to throw himself quickly backward. Atthe exact instant that his back struck the lumber piled behind him heheard the sharp, vicious crack of a rifle, and a bullet thudded dullyinto one of the wooden stanchions of the wagon frame at the edge of theseat. Another report followed it quickly, and Calumet flung himselfheadlong toward the rear of the wagon, where he lay for a briefinstant, alert, rigid, too full of rage for utterance.
But he was not too angry to think. The shots, he knew, had come fromthe left of the wagon. They had been too close for comfort, andwhoever had shot at him was a good enough marksman, although, hethought, with a bitter grin, a trifle too slow of movement to do anydamage to him.
His present position was precarious and he did not stay long in it.Close to the side of the wagon--the side opposite that from which theshots had come--was a shallow gully, deep enough to conceal himself inand fringed at the rear by several big boulders. It was an idealposition and Calumet did not hesitate to take advantage of it.Dropping from the rear of the wagon, he made a leap for the gully,landing in its bottom upon all fours. He heard a crash, and a bulletflattened itself against one of the rocks above his head.
"He ain't so slow, after all," he admitted grudgingly, referring to theconcealed marksman.
He kneeled in the gully and looked cautiously over its edge. The wagonwas directly in front of him; part of one of the rear wheels was in hisline of vision. The horses were standing quietly, undisturbed by theshots. He resolved to keep them where they were, and, exercising thegreatest care, he found a good-sized rock and stuck it under the frontof the rear wheel nearest him, thus blocking the wagon against themshould they become restless.
The moon was at his back, and he grinned with satisfaction as he notedthat the rocks behind him threw a deep shadow into the gully. He couldnot help thinking that his enemy, whoever he was, had not made a happyselection of a spot for an ambuscade, for the moonlight's glarerevealed every rock on the other side of the wagon, and the few treesin the wood behind the rocks were far too slender to provide shelterfor a man of ordinary size. Calumet chuckled grimly as, with his headslightly above the edge of the gully and concealed behind the felloesof the wagon wheel, he made an examination of the rocks beyond thewagon.
There were four of the rocks which were of sufficient size to affordconcealment for a man. They varied in size and were ranged along theside of the trail in an irregular line. All were about a hundred feetdistant.
The smaller one, he decided, was not to be considered, though he lookedsuspiciously at it before making his decision. Its neighbor waslarger, though he reasoned that if he were to make a selection for anambuscade he would not choose that one either. The other two rockswere almost the same size and he watched them warily. To the right andleft of these rocks was a clear space, flat and open, with not a treeor a bush large enough to conceal danger such as he was in search of.The slope up which he had just driven the horses was likewise free fromobstruction, so that if his enemy was behind any of the rocks he wasdoomed to stay there or offer himself as a target for Calumet's pistol.
"Wise, I reckon," he sneered. "Figgered to plug me while the horseswas restin', knowin' I'd have to breathe them about here. Thought oneshot would get me. Missed his reckonin'. Must be a mite peeved bythis time."
His gaze became intent again, but this time it was directed to someunderbrush about two hundred yards distant, back of the rocks. Withsome difficulty he could make out the shape of a horse standing wellback in the brush, and again he grinned.
"That's why he took that side," he said. "There's no place on thisside where he could hide his horse. It's plumb simple."
From where he kneeled began another slope that descended to the Lazy Yvalley. It dipped gently down into the wood in front of the house,where he had hitched his horse on the night of his home-coming, andbetween the trees he could see a light flickering. The light came fromthe kitchen window of the ranch-house; Betty had left it burning forhim, expecting him to return shortly after dusk. The house was notmore than a mile distant and he wondered at the hardihood of his enemyin planning to ambush him so close to his home. He reflected, though,that it was not likely that the shots could be heard from the house,for the spot on which the wagon stood was several hundred feet abovethe level of the valley, and then there was the intervening wood, whichwould dull whatever sound might float in that direction.
Who could his assailant be? Why, it was Taggart, of course. Taggarthad left town hours before him, he was a coward, and shooting fromambush is a coward's game.
Calumet's blood leaped a little faster in his veins. He would settlefor good with Neal Taggart. But he did not move except to draw one ofhis six-shooters and push its muzzle over the edge of the gully. Heshoved his arm slowly forward so that it lay extended along the groundthe barrel of the pistol resting on
the felloes of the wheel.
In this position he remained for half an hour. No sound broke thestrained stillness of the place. The horses had sagged forward, theirheads hanging, their legs braced. There was no cloud in the sky andthe clear light of the moon poured down in a yellow flood. Calumet'stask would have been easier if he could have told which of the fourrocks concealed his enemy. As it was he was compelled to watch themall.
But presently, at the edge of one of the two larger rocks, the onenearest the slope, he detected movement. A round object a foot indiameter, came slowly into view from behind the rock, propelled by anunseen force. It was shoved out about three quarters of its width, sothat it overlapped the big rock beside it, leaving an aperture betweenthe two of perhaps three or four inches. While Calumet watched a riflebarrel was stuck into this aperture. Calumet waited until the muzzleof the rifle became steady and then he took quick aim at the spot andpulled the trigger of his six-shooter, ducking his head below the edgeof the gully as his weapon crashed.
He heard a laugh, mocking, discordant, followed by a voice--Taggart'svoice.
"Clean miss," it said. "You're nervous."
"Like you was in town today," jeered Calumet.
"Then you know me?" returned Taggart. "I ain't admittin' that I wasany nervous."
"Scared of the dark, then," said Calumet. "You left town a whole lotpunctual."
"Well," sneered Taggart; "mebbe I ain't much on the shoot. I don'tplay any man's game but my own."
"You're right," mocked Calumet; "you don't play no man's game. A man'sgame--"
He raised his head a trifle and a bullet sang past it, flattened itselfagainst the rock behind him, cutting short his speech and his humor atthe same instant. The gully was fully fifty feet long and he droppedon his hands and knees and crawled to the upper end of it, away fromthe slope. He saw one of Taggart's feet projecting from behind therock and he brought his six-shooter to a poise. The foot moved anddisappeared. Catching a glimpse of the rifle barrel coming into viewaround the edge of the rock, Calumet sank back into the gully. Fifteenminutes later when he again cautiously raised his head above the levelthere was no sign of Taggart. He dropped down into the gully again andscrambled to the other end of it, raising his head again. He sawTaggart, twenty-five feet behind the rock, backing away toward the woodwhere his horse stood, crouching, watchful, endeavoring to keep therock between him and Calumet while he retreated. Altogether, he wasfully a hundred and twenty-five feet away at the moment Calumet caughtsight of him, and he was looking toward the end of the gully thatCalumet had just vacated. Calumet stood erect and snapped a shot athim, though the distance was so great that he had little expectation ofdoing any damage.
But Taggart staggered, dropped his rifle and dove headlong toward therock. In an instant he had resumed his position behind it, and Calumetcould tell from the rapidity of his movements that he had not been hit.He saw the rifle lying where it had fallen, and he was meditating aquick rush toward the rock when he saw Taggart's hand come out andgrasp the stock of the weapon, dragging it back to him. Calumetwhipped a bullet at the hand, but the only result was a small dustcloud beside it.
"In a hurry, Taggart?" he jeered. "Aw, don't be. This is the most funI've had since I've been back in the valley. An' you want to spoil itby hittin' the breeze. Hang around a while till I get my hand in. Ireckon you ain't hurt?" he added, putting a little anxiety into hisvoice.
"Hurt nothin'," growled Taggart. "You hit the stock of the rifle."
"I reckon that wouldn't be accounted bad shootin' at a hundred an'twenty-five feet," said Calumet. "If you hadn't had the rifle in theway you'd have got it plumb in your bread-basket. But don't bedown-hearted; that ain't nothin' to what I can do when I get my handin. I ain't had no practice."
He had an immense advantage over Taggart. The latter was compelled toremain concealed behind his rock, while Calumet had the freedom of thegully. He did not anticipate that Taggart would again attempt toretreat in the same way, nor did he think that he would risk charginghim, for he would not be certain at what point in the gully he would belikely to find his enemy and thus a charge would probably resultdisastrously for him.
Taggart was apparently satisfied of the watchfulness of Calumet, for hestayed discreetly behind his rock. Twice during the next hour hisrifle cracked when he caught a glimpse of Calumet's head, and each timehe knew he had missed, for Calumet's laugh followed the reports. Once,after a long interval of silence, thinking that Calumet was at theother end of the gully, he moved the small rock which he had pushedbeyond the edge of the large one, using his rifle barrel as a prod. Abullet from Calumet's pistol struck the rock, glanced from it andseared the back of his hand, bringing a curse to his lips.
"Told you so," came Calumet's voice. "I hope it ain't nothin' serious.But I'm gettin' my hand in."
This odd duel continued with long lapses of silence while the moon grewto a disk of pale, liquid silver in the west, enduring through thebleak, chill time preceding the end of night, finally fading anddisappearing as the far eastern distance began to glow with the graylight of dawn.
Calumet's cold humor had not survived the night. He patrolled thegully during the slow-dragging hours of the early morning with agrowing caution and determination, his lips setting always into harderlines, his eyes beginning to blaze with a ferocity that promised illfor Taggart.
Shortly after dawn, kneeling in the gully at the end toward theranchhouse, he heard the wagon move. He looked up to see that thehorses had started, evidently with the intention of completing theirdelayed journey to the stable, where they would find the food and waterwhich they no doubt craved. As the wagon bumped over the obstructionwhich Calumet had placed in front of the rear wheel, he was on theverge of shouting to the horses to halt, but thought better of it,watching them in silence as they made their way slowly down the slope.
It took them a long time to reach the level of the valley, and thenthey passed slowly through the wood, going as steadily as though therewas a driver on the seat behind them, and finally they turned into theranchhouse yard and came to a halt near the kitchen door.
Calumet watched them until they came to a stop and then he went to theopposite end of the gully, peeping above it in order to learn of thewhereabouts of Taggart. He saw no signs of him and returned to theother end of the gully.
Taggart, he suspected, could not see where the wagon had gone and nodoubt was filled with curiosity. Neither could Taggart see theranchhouse, for there were intervening hills and the slope itself was aridge which effectually shut off Taggart's view. But neither hills orridge were in Calumet's line of vision. Kneeling in the gully hewatched the wagon. Presently he saw Betty come out and stand on theporch. She looked at the wagon for a moment and then went towardit--Calumet could see her peer around the canvas side at the seat.After a moment she left the wagon and walked to the stable, lookingwithin. Then she took a turn around the ranchhouse yard, stopping atthe bunkhouse and looking over the corral fence. She returned to thewagon and stood beside it as though pondering. Calumet grinned inamusement. She was wondering what had become of him. His grin was cutshort by the crash of Taggart's rifle and he dodged down, realizingthat in his curiosity to see what Betty was doing he had inadvertentlyexposed himself. A hole in his shirt sleeve near the shouldertestified to his narrow escape.
His rage against Taggart was furious and with a grimace at him heturned again to the ranchhouse. Betty had left the wagon and hadwalked several steps toward him, standing rigid, shading her eyes withher hands. Apparently she had heard the report of the rifle and waswondering what it meant. At that instant Calumet looked over the edgeof the gully to see Taggart shoving the muzzle of his rifle around theside of the rock. Its report mingled with the roar of Calumet's pistol.
Taggart yelled with pain and rage and flopped back out of sight, whileCalumet laid an investigating hand on his left shoulder, which felt asthough it had been seared by a red-hot iron.
He kneeled in the gully and tore the cloth away. The wound was aslight one and he sneered at it. He made his way to the other end ofthe gully, expecting that Taggart, if injured only slightly, mightagain attempt a retreat, but he did not see him and came back to theend nearest the ranchhouse. Then he saw Betty running toward him,carrying a rifle.
At this evidence of meditated interference in his affairs a new rageafflicted Calumet. He motioned violently for her to keep away, andwhen he saw Dade run out of the house after her, also with a rifle inhand, he motioned again. But it was evident that they took his motionsto mean that they were not to approach him in that direction, for theychanged their course and swung around toward the rocks at his rear.
Furious at their obstinacy, or lack of perception, Calumet watchedtheir approach with glowering glances. When they came near enough forhim to make himself heard he yelled savagely at them.
"Get out of here, you damned fools!" he said; "do you want to get hurt?"
They continued to come on in spite of this warning, but when theyreached the foot of the little slope that led to the ridge at the edgeof which was Calumet's gully, they halted, looking up at Calumetinquiringly. The ridge towered above their heads, and so they were inno danger, but Betty halted only for a moment and then continued toapproach until she stood on the ridge, exposed to Taggart's fire. But,of course, Taggart would not fire at her.
"What's wrong?" she demanded of Calumet; "what were you shooting at?"
"Friend of yours," he said brusquely.
"Who?"
"Neal Taggart. We've been picnicin' all night."
Her face flooded with color, but paled instantly. Calumet thoughtthere was reproach in the glance she threw at him, but he did not havetime to make certain, for at the instant she looked at him she dartedtoward a rock about ten feet distant, no doubt intending to concealherself behind it.
Calumet watched her. When she gained the shelter of the rock she wasabout to kneel in some fringing mesquite at its base when she heardCalumet yell at her. She turned, hesitating in the act of kneeling,and looked at Calumet. His face was ashen. His heavy pistol pointedin her direction; it seemed that its muzzle menaced her. Shestraightened, anger in her eyes, as the weapon crashed.
Her knees shook, she covered her face with her hands to shut out thereeling world, for she thought that in his rage he was shooting at her.But in the next instant she felt his arms around her; she was squeezeduntil she thought her bones were being crushed, and in the same instantshe was lifted, swung clear of the ground and set suddenly down again.She opened her eyes, her whole body trembling with wrath, to look atCalumet, within a foot of her. But he was not looking at her; his gazewas fixed with sardonic satisfaction upon a huge rattler which waswrithing in the throes of death at the base of the rock where she hadbeen about to kneel. Its head had been partly severed from its bodyand while she looked Calumet's pistol roared again and its destructionwas completed.
She was suddenly faint; the world reeled again. But the sensationpassed quickly and she saw Calumet standing close to her, looking ather with grim disapprobation. Apparently he had forgotten his dangerin his excitement over hers.
"I told you not to come here," he said.
But a startled light leaped into her eyes at the words. Calumet swungaround as he saw her rifle swing to her shoulder. He saw Taggart nearthe edge of the wood, two hundred yards away, kneeling, his rifleleveled at them. He yelled to Betty but she did not heed him.Taggart's bullet sang over his head as the gun in Betty's handscrashed. Taggart stood quickly erect, his rifle dropped from his handsas he ran, staggering from side to side, to his horse. He mounted andfled, his pony running desperately, accompanied by the music of a riflethat suddenly began popping on the other side of Calumet--Dade's. Butthe distance was great, the target elusive, and Dade's bullets sangfutilely.
They watched Taggart until he vanished, his pony running steadily alonga far level, and then Betty turned to see Calumet looking at her with atwisted, puzzled smile.
"You plugged him, I reckon," he said, nodding toward the vast distanceinto which his enemy was disappearing. "Why, it's plumb ridiculous.If my girl would plug me that way, I'd sure feel--"
His meaning was plain, though he did not finish. She looked at himstraight in the eyes though her face was crimson and her lips trembleda little.
"You are a brute!" she said. Turning swiftly she began to descend theslope toward the ranchhouse.
Calumet stood looking after her for a moment, his face working withvarious emotions that struggled for expression. Then, ignoring Dade,who stood near him, plainly puzzled over this enigma, he walked over tothe edge of the wood where Taggart's rifle lay, picked it up and madehis way to the ranchhouse.