CHAPTER XI
BATTLING THE ELEMENTS
The shadows of the little rolling hills still sprawled across theintervening valleys when Curtis Conrad started back at a gallop over theroad which his outfit had been slowly traversing for four days. To hisforeman, Hank Peters, he had said that he had been thrown and gored by asteer and must go to Golden to have his collar bone set, and ordered himto stay where he was, cutting out and branding, that day and night, andcamp the day after at Five Cottonwoods, where he would rejoin them.
The men puzzled and gossiped about the accident to their employer. "Idon't see how it was possible," said Peters, "for such a thing to happento a man that's got the boss's gumption about cow-brutes."
"None of 'em was on the prod when I got to the pond," Red Jack declared."Jose, you was with him. Did you see the scrimmage?"
"I did not see the boss when he was down," Gonzalez replied in hisprecise, slightly accented English. "I was at the spring and heard himyell and I ran down to the pond at once, for I thought he needed help. Istumbled and fell and sprained my shoulder--it hurts me yet--so thatwhen I reached the pond he was on his feet again and trying to drive thecattle into the water. I helped him and then we went back to where hisshoes were. That was where Jack saw us. His arm bled a good deal there."
"Somethin' happened," observed Hank Peters, "and if the boss says it wasa steer on the prod, I sure reckon it was. But the thing that'stroublin' me most is what started them critters off. I didn't see orhear a blamed thing likely to set 'em goin'. Did any of you?"
"I didn't," Texas Bill spoke up; "but Andy was there first. Did you seewhat it was, Andy?"
Andy Miller, the new hand, stopped to draw several deep whiffs from hisnewly lighted pipe before he replied. "No; I couldn't make out anything,and I was right at the edge of 'em, too. They jumped and started all atonce, as crazy as I ever see a bunch of critters."
"Mebbe you skeered 'em some, they not bein' used to you," suggestedBilly Kid.
Andy grinned. "Well, I sure ain't boastin' none about the beauty of myphiz, but no gal ain't told me yet that I was ugly enough to stampede aherd of cow-brutes," and the subject was dropped with the laugh thatfollowed.
Conrad's mare, larger and of better breed than the cow ponies, put theground rapidly under her feet throughout the early morning. Though nevertrained for range work and used only for riding, he always took her onthe round-up, in readiness for emergencies. His habit of talking tohimself, engendered by much solitary riding, was often varied byone-sided conversations with the mare, and whatever the subject whichoccupied his thoughts and found fragmentary utterance in speech, hissentences were interspersed with frequent remarks to Brown Betty.Apparently she found this custom as companionable as he did, for she wassure to protest at a long period of silence.
"So, ho, my pretty Brown B.," said Conrad gently, as he patted themare's sleek neck, "that's the pace to give 'em!" A sharp twinge in hisshoulder set his lips together, and an oath, having Congressman Baxteras its objective, came from between his teeth. "I'll write that damnedBaxter a letter," he broke out savagely, "that will singe his eyelasheswhen he reads it!"
His thoughts went back to the subject which so frequently occupiedthem--his lifelong, vengeful quest of the man who had despoiled hisfather, wrought destruction upon their home, and changed the current ofhis own life. His heart waxed hot as he recalled his interview withRutherford Jenkins. Never for an instant had he doubted that Jenkins'sstatement was a deliberate lie. Smiling grimly, he stroked the mare'smane. "I was a fool, wasn't I, Betty, to suppose I'd get straight goodsout of him. It cost me five hundred dollars to find out that he's askunk,--which I knew before. I deserved all I got, didn't I, Betty, fornot having more gumption."
The frontiersman's caution, which grows almost instinctive in one whorides much alone over plain and mountain, sent his eyes now and again tosearch the long stretch of road that trailed its faint gray band acrossthe hills behind and before him and to scan the sun-flooded reach fromhorizon to horizon. A red stain accentuated the meeting line of sky andplain in the west.
"Betty Brown, do you see that red mark yonder?" he said, gently pullingher ear. "That means a sand-storm, and we've got to hike along at apretty stiff pace while we can. What do you think about it, my lady?"The mare raised her head and gave a little snort. "Smell it, don't you?"he went on as he patted her approvingly. "Well, that's where you'resmarter than I am, for I reckon I shan't be able to do that for anotherhour."
He fell silent again, thinking of the Delafield matter and Jenkins'sassertion that Bancroft was Delafield. "He sure knows who Delafield is,"was his conclusion, announced aloud, "but he's not going to tell. He'sprobably blackmailing the man, whoever he is, and he won't take anychances that would be likely to spoil his income. Well, that proves thatDelafield is somebody in New Mexico rich enough and prominent enough tomake it worth while for Jenkins to keep his knowledge to himself. I'vegot that much for my five hundred, anyway. Lord, Betty, wasn't I atenderfoot!" and he swore under his breath, half angrily, half amusedly,as he turned again to study the road and the plain. The heat haze wasrising, and the clear white sunlight was master of earth and sky. Far toone side he noted the silvery lake of a mirage. But the red line hadmounted higher, and become a low, dirty-red wall that seemed to fencethe western expanse from north to south. "It sure looks like a bad one,Betty, and I'm afraid we shan't be able to get home to-night after all.But we'll make Adobe Springs anyway, if it doesn't catch us too soon."
The pain in his shoulder brought his mind back to the conviction thatBaxter had instigated the assault upon him, and he began searching forthe motive. Did the Congressman think his political opposition importantenough to make his taking off desirable? Suddenly he slapped his thighand broke out aloud: "Lord! what if Baxter should be Delafield! Hesure ought to be if there's anything in the eternal fitness of things.If he should be--ah-h," and he broke off with a hard, unmirthfullaugh. Ransacking his memory for all he knew of Baxter's life hepresently shook his head regretfully. "No; the facts are against it.There's nothing in that lead. It's a pity, though, for it would be asatisfaction--to say nothing of the public benefit--to knock 'em bothoff the roost at one pop." His mind busied itself with conjectures aboutDelafield's identity, as he considered first one and then another of themore prominent men in the Territory. He was silent so long that the maretossed her head impatiently and whinnied. Curtis smiled and stroked hermane.
"Hello, old girl!" he said aloud, "getting lonesome, are you, and youwant to be talked to. Oh, you're spoiled, Betty B., that's what you are.We'll go up the hill and see Miss Bancroft, won't we, Betty, while we'rein Golden; and we'll take that cactus to her, and help her plant it. Andshe'll come out to the fence to see you, Betty; and she'll give you alump of sugar, and pat your nose, and look as sweet as a pink rose withbrown velvet eyes. She's a bully fine girl and we like her, don't we,Betty Brown? The way she sticks by her father is great; he couldn't helpbeing a first-class fellow, could he, B. B., with such a daughter asthat?"
The red wall was rising in the sky, devouring its sunlit blue andspreading out into smoky-red, angry-looking clouds. A high wind, hotand dry, swept across the plain from the west. All the cattle withinConrad's range of vision had turned their heads to the east and,although they were still grazing, moved only in that direction. Seeing aherd of antelope headed the same way, Curtis took the red bandanna fromhis neck and waved it toward them. As the bright signal floated in thewind their leader turned, stared, and began to walk back, the whole herdfollowing with raised heads and gaze fixed in fascinated interest. Heflaunted the red square and they came steadily on, until presently thewarning of danger in the hot wind and the odor of the approaching stormovercame the compulsion of curiosity, and they wheeled again, away fromthe threatened peril.
The small life of the plain was fleeing before the furnace-like breathof those red, surging clouds. Jackrabbits leaped across the road onfleet legs, and occasionally Conrad saw coyotes, singly or in packs,running eas
tward as for their lives. Fat carrion crows hurried theirunwieldy flight and, higher in the air, a frequent lone hawk sailed outof the west, while now and then a road-runner cut across his path withhasting feet.
"It's going to be a bad one, I guess," Curtis muttered, jamming hissoft hat down closer on his head. The mare seemed to be trying of herown accord to escape the storm, and her swinging lope was steadilyleaving the miles behind. "Keep it up, Betty, keep it up," he saidencouragingly. "I want to reach Adobe Springs and get this message toBaxter off my mind. My shoulder's aching, old girl, but it ain't achinga bit more than I am to tell him what I think of him."
Soon the sand-storm was upon them, concealing the landscape and coveringthe sky with its clouds. Upon man and beast it beat as bitterly as asand-blast. It pelted and stung Conrad's face and neck, and filled hiseyes and ears and nostrils until he was forced now and again to pull hishat over his face for a moment's respite in which to draw a less chokingbreath. "It looks as if all Arizona had got up and dusted, and washell-bent to get out of here," he jested grimly, as he bent over themare's neck and encouraged her with voice and gentle stroke. "That showsgood sense, Betty, though it's mighty hard on us. Come right along, oldgirl; we must get to Adobe Springs."
"UPON MAN AND BEAST THE SAND-STORM BEAT BITTERLY"]
As the air grew thicker there shone from the sky, instead of the vividwhite sunshine of a few hours before, only a dim, diffused, luridlight. Even to Curtis, sitting quartering in the saddle with his backtwisted toward the wind, Brown Betty's ears were barely visible. For awhile he allowed the mare to follow the road herself, until he foundthat her sense of duty must be supplemented by authority. For, under thediscomfort of the belaboring wind and stinging sand, she began to yieldto her instinct to turn tail and drift before the storm. Then he knewthat he must keep a firm hand on the bridle, and his attention at thehighest pitch, or they would soon be wandering helplessly over theplain. He walked long distances beside the mare, with his body shieldingher head and with speech and caress keeping up her courage. Theirprogress was slow, for the force of the storm was so great that, thoughit beat against them from the side, they could struggle through it onlyat a walk.
Hour after hour went by, and the only sign of its passage was that adim, yellowish centre of illumination, that had once been the sun, creptslowly across the sky. As the day grew older Conrad's pain from hisinjury became more acute. Most of the time he felt it only as aninsistent background to the keen outward discomfort of stinging sand andpounding wind. But when an occasional sharper twinge brought it morevividly to his consciousness he swore a little between his teeth, andthought of the letter he was going to write to Dellmey Baxter. Theparticles of sand filled his hair and encrusted his face and neck untilthey were of a uniform brick-red. Constant effort and encouragement werenecessary to keep Brown Betty in the road, and finally he was compelledto walk at her head most of the time and with a guiding hand on herbridle counteract the unflagging urge of her instinct to drift beforethe blast.
Thus they battled their way through the hot, beating wind andsuffocating sand, while that vague core of light moved athwart the dirtyheavens, dropped slowly down the western sky, and was swallowed up inthe denser banks of dusk above the horizon. It had been too dark beforefor the discernment of objects, but a yellowish glare had filteredthrough the sand-laden air, lending a lurid, semi-translucence to theatmosphere. Now even that was gone, leaving a desert enveloped in pitchydarkness, while the wind roared about the ears of the travellers andpounded their bodies as with cudgels and the sand pelted their skins.
Most of the time Curtis depended upon the feel of the road under hisfeet to maintain his direction, but now and then it was necessary forhim to get down on his hands and knees in order to recover the trackfrom which they had begun to stray. Once his fingers came in contactwith a small feathered body. The bird tried to start up under his hand.He knew it must be disabled and placed it inside his shirt. Thus theyplodded on through the night and the storm, the pain in his shouldergrowing keener and the torture of the wind and sand ever morenerve-racking.
At last the mare raised her head and gave a long whinny. Conrad feltsure that she was announcing their near approach to the food and shelterwithin the adobe houses. "What is it, Betty? Do you know where we are?"he asked, and she rubbed her nose against his face, nickered, and pulledat the bridle with the evident desire to turn from the direction theywere pursuing. Curtis knew they were in a little hollow, and thought itmight be that into which the road dipped after leaving the houses.
"All right, Betty," he said. "I'll follow your lead a little way, but becautious, old girl, and don't tie up to any lying hunches." Heslackened his hold on the bridle, and the mare started off eagerly. Theyclimbed a hill, and presently Conrad was aware of a black mass beforehim. Putting out his hand he felt an adobe wall. The mare crowded closeagainst it, and stopped. She had left the road, which took the hill at along sloping angle from the foot of the rise, and had climbed straightup the steep incline. He felt his way around the corner, unfastened thedoor, and entered. An emphatic "Whew!" gave vent to his feeling ofrelief. The mare, close at his heels, snorted in response, and Curtis,smiling in the dark, threw his arm across her neck in fellowship andsaid, "Feels good, doesn't it, Betty B., to get out of that hurricanefrom hell?"
By the light of a lantern he led the mare to the spring, stabling herafterward in one of the houses. "In the best society, Betty Brown," heexplained, "it's not considered good form for horses to sleep in men'shouses. But you deserve the best I can give you to-night, blest if youdon't, old girl, and you shall have it, too." He gathered together, forher food and her bed, the alfalfa hay from several of the bunks, andfound for her also a small measure of oats. Then, having attended toher wants, he looked about for something to stay his own hunger.
It was his custom to keep some canned provisions in the place, as thestation was much used by his men. On a little smouldering fire in onecorner of the room, he made some tea in a tin can. A frying-pan hungagainst the wall, and in it, awkwardly fumbling with his one usefulhand, he contrived to warm a stew of tinned _chile con carne_ and pilotbread. Fine sand drifted in and settled in a red dust over the food ashe ate, and he could feel its grit between his teeth.
The bird he had carried in his bosom he found to be a Southwesterntanager. Its pinkish-red plumage shone with a silvery radiance in thelamplight. One of its legs was broken, and one wing had been injured."I'll take it to Miss Bancroft," he said aloud, "and she'll care for ittill it can shift for itself again, poor little devil!"
With intense satisfaction Conrad at last sat down to the letter in whichhe had all day been longing to express his feelings. "I wonder," hethought, "if Dellmey Baxter did it because he don't like the things Isay about him. Well, he'll have to get used to it, then, for I'm notgoing to quit." There was a grim smile on his face as he wrote:
"I consider it the square thing to tell you that I am onto the game of your man, Jose Gonzalez. We had our first set-to this morning, in which he winged me, but I got the best of him. I could have killed him if I had wanted to, but he is such a good cowboy I hated to do him up. I am going to keep him in my employ, but I want you to understand, distinctly, that if he makes another crack at me I shall go to Santa Fe as quick as I can get there and make a Christmas gift of you to the devil before you know what's happening.
"Yours truly, "CURTIS CONRAD.
"P. S. I am still shouting for Johnny Martinez for Congress. C. C."
"There!" he exclaimed, as he sealed the envelope and threw it downcontemptuously; "I sure reckon he won't be so anxious for me to turn upmy toes with my boots on after he reads that."
The pain in Conrad's arm and shoulder had become so keen that he couldnot sleep. He lay in his bunk listening to the rattling of the door andthe rage of the wind against the house, seeking to keep his mind fromthe stabbing pain long enough to sink into unconsciousness. But nosooner did his eye
lids begin to close down heavily than a fresh throbmade him start up again wide awake. This irritated him more than did theother suffering, and finally he jumped up angrily, found a copy ofLecky's "History of European Morals," and, with the muttered comment,"This is about what I need to-night," settled himself on an emptycracker box and read the night away. Toward morning he became aware thatthe wind was abating, and a little later that less sand was driftinginto his retreat.
Breakfast was eaten and Brown Betty cared for by lamplight and with thefirst dim rays of morning he set out once more upon the road. The birdwas again in his bosom, and the cactus, wrapped in old newspapers,rested at the back of his saddle. The storm had passed, but the air wasstill full of dust particles through which the sun shone, red and smoky.Curtis knew that these would settle gradually with the passing hours andthe sky become as clear as usual. Already he could see the road forseveral rods in front of him, and that was all he needed to keep itflying under Brown Betty's feet.
At the ranch house Mrs. Peters told him that a man had been therelooking for work and described his appearance. "Yes; he overtook us atRock Springs, and I hired him," Conrad said. Then, remembering theaccount Andy Miller had given of his previous situation, he asked her ifthe man had said where he came from.
"No," she replied; "he didn't say where he'd been working; but he camefrom toward Golden."
The superintendent thought the discrepancy rather curious, but decidedit was nothing more than a not unusual cowboy eccentricity of statement.He resumed his journey with no misgivings, and mid-afternoon found himarguing with the physician at Golden that he might just as well startback to the round-up that same night.