CHAPTER XII
THE FIRST SHOT
Alexander Bancroft sat in his private room with Curtis Conrad's returnchecks before him. They were not many: one in favor of his brother atthe University of Michigan, one for a mail order house in Chicago, asmall one to a New York publishing concern,--and his eyes fell upon thename of Rutherford Jenkins and the amount,--five hundred dollars. Hestared at the slip of paper for a moment, conviction rushing to his mindthat his pursuer knew the truth; then he took his revolver from hispocket and examined its chambers. "I may have to do him up myself!" hethought, his lips tightening. But sudden hesitation gripped his heart.Until within a few weeks he had considered Curtis one of his bestfriends, had liked the young cattleman whole-heartedly, admiring andenjoying his impulsiveness, his geniality, his ardent loyalty to hisfriends, and his equally ardent hostility to those he disliked. Now thegood-fellowship he had been accustomed to feel stopped his hand. "Can itbe possible," he asked himself for the hundredth time, "that thiseager-hearted, companionable fellow will really carry out his deadlypurpose?" He recalled the intensity with which Conrad had spoken of hislong quest for revenge, his vehemence toward his enemies, hisimpetuosity. Again conviction grew strong upon him that, when the manknew, the end would come. The frontier code by which he had lived solong nerved his heart, and he muttered, "He shan't smash things--now!I'll smash him before I'll let him do that!"
He swung the revolver into position and took sight. As his eye glanceddown the barrel he saw that it was pointing at Lucy's pictured face,smiling down from the top of his desk; his hand shook as he laid downthe weapon. There was a knock at the door, and he made sudden pretenceof close attention to the papers before him. The door partly opened andhe heard Conrad's voice outside. Surety of imminent peril seizedBancroft's mind. The instinct of self-defence sent his hand to hisrevolver, and he sprang up, pulling the trigger. Curtis rushed in at thereport, calling out, "What's the matter, Aleck?" The banker had justtime to stay his finger at sight of the friendly face and solicitousmanner.
"I didn't hurt you, did I, Curt?" he asked anxiously, sinking back inhis chair and looking at Conrad's arm, helpless in a sling. The bullet,they found, had nicked the top of the door and buried itself in theceiling. "I was looking my revolver over when you knocked," Bancroftexplained, "and had just been aiming at that spot on the wall. My fingermust have pulled the trigger unconsciously. The thing's set to a hair,anyway. I must have it fixed. What's the matter with your arm, Curt?"
In the revulsion of feeling that swept over him as he realized that thecattleman was as friendly as ever and that therefore his secret wasstill safe, he felt genuinely thankful that his bullet had gone wild.
Conrad told of his fight with Jose Gonzalez. "You're getting the truthabout it, Aleck," he went on; "but to everybody else I'm saying that Igot horned by a steer, knocked over, and my collar bone cracked. I'mconvinced it's some of Dell Baxter's work. I reckon I've been saying outloud just what he is too often to please him. But the letter I've senthim will buffalo him quick enough. Jose's a good cowboy, and I'm goingto keep him. But I don't want the boys to know anything about our littlescrap. So I'm saying it was a steer on the prod that did it."
Bancroft's thoughts were active as he lighted his cigar. That check--itmust have been Castleton money, to be handled for Johnny Martinez.Perhaps security might still be compassed without bloodshed. Inthankfulness that he had not killed the man who was still his friend herevolted against the purpose of the Mexican, to which he knew in hissoul he had given tacit consent. He did not want this cordial,confiding, good fellow struck down--if his own safety could be otherwisesecured.
"You'd better give the Mexican his time, Curt. He's locoed probably;when you get back you may find he's killed half your men."
"Well, if he tries running a-muck in that gang," the superintendentresponded cheerfully, "he'll never do anybody else any harm. Anyway,I've settled him for the present; I busted his knife and threw thepieces into the pond. No; he's in Dell's pay; that's all there is to it;and when Dell reads my letter he'll hike to call his man off. I don'texpect any more trouble from Jose."
Bancroft made no reply and Conrad went on: "By the way, Aleck, for afull minute yesterday I thought Baxter must be my man--the man I'mafter, you know--Delafield. I've found out that he's somebody rich andrespectable here in New Mexico, and when I felt that Baxter must beresponsible for this attack on me, I lit on him for my meat. But it wastoo good to be true; as soon as I thought it over I saw that Baxtercouldn't be Delafield. But they're two of a kind all right. Both of 'emhave got their freight loaded ready to pull out for hell at the drop ofa hat. Baxter will have to pull his in less than three jumps of abucking horse if he doesn't call off his man. And Delafield will bepulling his mighty soon anyway."
Bancroft made a gesture of annoyance. "Curt, you talk too easily aboutkilling. You'd make a stranger think you're a bad man of the border,instead of the decent citizen you are. For Heaven's sake, man, why don'tyou come to your senses, and see what an ass you'll be making ofyourself if you try to carry out this fool scheme of revenge that's gothold of you? Why don't you accept his offer to pay back the money asfast as he can? Let him make restitution, and keep a whole skin; perhapsyou'll save your own scalp in the bargain."
The seeker after vengeance laughed blithely.
"Aleck, you've no idea what this thing means to me. Why, man, you talkas if giving up that plan would be no more than changing my coat! Youdon't know, Aleck--why, to get the drop on Delafield and hold him whileI tell him what he is in language that will scald him from head to foot,and then deal out to him the death he deserves--that's the one thingI've lived for all these fifteen years! I'm obliged to you for youradvice, Aleck; but I know what I'm about."
Bancroft shrank away a little as Curtis talked. His lips tightened as hepicked up the revolver and sighted it at a calendar on the wall. After amoment's silence he looked the other full in the eye and said,impressively:
"You forget one thing, Curt. If this man Delafield knows what you aredoing--and you seem to feel sure he does--he'll be prepared for yourattack, and you're not likely to have things your own way. Unless he's afool or a coward he'll defend himself, even if he has to kill you doingit. And if he has any _sabe_ at all he'll be loaded for you when you getthere, and have the drop on you before you can say a word."
"Chances of war," Conrad replied serenely. "He's welcome to all he canget. But I'm betting my last dollar, and my scalp in the bargain, thathe can't draw as quick as I can, nor shoot as straight. You bet yourlife, Aleck, when that circus comes off I'll be the star performer."
"Well," said Bancroft slowly, "if you won't listen to reason I supposeyou'll have to go on, hell-bent, in the gait you've struck--and take theconsequences. But you're a fool to do it, and I hate to see you makingsuch a blind ass of yourself."
Curtis laughed, undisturbed. "That's all right, Aleck. I don't expectyou to get the joy out of this business that I shall."
He went over to Bancroft's desk and picked up the revolver, examiningits sights. "They're not right, Aleck," he said. "When I get the use ofmy arm again I'll fix them for you. And you don't use your gun rightwhen you want to take quick aim: you don't swing it up quickly andsteadily, as if you were used to it. You ought to practise, Aleck. Outhere a man never knows when he may have to defend himself. I've got tostay here several days, the doctor says; and while I'm here I'll showyou a few tricks."
"All right, if you like," Bancroft replied, adding, as he pocketed hisrevolver, "I'm not a very good shot and, as you say, out here a mannever knows when he may have to defend himself."
Conrad, turning to go, lingered awkwardly. "By the way, Aleck," heblurted out, "it has occurred to me that perhaps you are getting tied upwith Dell Baxter too tight for comfort. I don't want to seem curiousabout your affairs, you know, and I haven't got any big pile--you knowwhat my balance is; but whatever I have got you're welcome to, any time,if you want to cut loose from Baxter and it will help any."
; Bancroft hid a grim smile behind the hand at his moustache as he thoughtof sundry checks of his own making their way toward Conrad's balance."Thank you, Curt; it's very kind and thoughtful of you to make theoffer, and I appreciate it. But I don't need anything. Baxter and I arein partnership in a number of enterprises, but it's all straightsailing."
"That's good, and I'm glad to hear it. I was afraid he'd got you underhis thumb. But remember, Aleck, that my small pile is at your disposalany time it will be of use to you."
As the young man left the bank he saw Lucy Bancroft turn the cornertoward the Mexican quarter and was quickly at her side, relieving her ofthe little bundle she carried. She was going to Senora Melgares, sheexplained, who could wash laces and embroideries and all kinds of daintythings beautifully with _amole_ root. She was taking her some of MissDent's and her own fineries, and hoped to get her a great deal of workfrom others. "The poor thing!" said Lucy earnestly, her eyes wide andsoft with sympathy. "She is so heartbroken over the affair! You'veheard? Mr. Gaines died the other day, and Melgares has been indicted formurder. My father says he'll surely be found guilty and will probably behanged. The poor senora!"
When they reached the little adobe house Lucy asked Curtis to go in withher, saying, "I'm not very sure of my Spanish, and I'd be glad to haveyou come in and help me out." They found Senora Melgares sitting withher head buried in her arms, her hair dishevelled, and her face, whenshe raised it, eloquent of grief and despair. But she greeted them withgrave and gracious courtesy. Lucy impulsively took her hand and held itin both her own while she presented Senor Conrad. At the name the womandrew her slight figure together with a convulsive movement, her darkface lighting with interest.
"Don Curtis? Senor Don Curtis Conrad?" she asked eagerly.
"The same, senora," he answered in Spanish, bowing gravely.
"The same whose mare--?" she began, her expressive countenance finishingthe query. Conrad bowed again. The woman sank down in her chair, herface in her hands, swaying back and forth as she moaned and sobbed. Lucyknelt by her side to comfort her, while Curtis bent over the girlishfigure and spoke in a low, changed tone that the girl barely recognized,so different was it from his usual brisk utterance. It set her nervesvibrating in quick, half-conscious conviction of a depth and quality offeeling in harmony with her own.
"I am afraid I made a mistake by coming in, Miss Bancroft," he said. "Itdid not occur to me that she would connect me with her husband'strouble. Won't you please tell her, when she is quieter, that I am verysorry about the whole affair, that I have no feeling against him, andthat I'll gladly do for him whatever I can. I think I'd better go now,but I'll wait outside for you, and if I can be of any use you must callme."
When Lucy joined him a little later her face showed signs of tears, andas they walked back she was preoccupied and perturbed. She wished to seeher father, so Curtis left her at the door of the bank.
"Daddy!" Lucy exclaimed as she rushed to his side, her eyes shining andher face aglow. "Oh, daddy, Senora Melgares has just told me thestrangest thing! Mr. Conrad was with me, but he went out because shecried so, and he didn't hear what she said. I tried to quiet and comforther, and finally she told me that her husband had been persuaded andpaid to steal Mr. Conrad's horse by a man who said he wanted to get evenwith him for something. She told me his name--you and Mr. Tillinghurstand Judge Banks were talking about him the other day--Mr. Jenkins--DonRutherford Jenkins, she called him."
Anticipation warmed Bancroft's heart as she spoke. If the story was trueit might give him just the hold on Jenkins that he wanted. He made herrepeat the details of her conversation with the Mexican woman. "Did yousay anything about it to Conrad?" he asked in conclusion.
"No, daddy; I thought I ought to tell you about it first."
"Quite right, Lucy. You were very prudent. And don't mention it now, tohim or to anybody."
"No, of course not. But, daddy, won't that make it better for poor JoseMaria? Mr. Jenkins is the one that ought to be punished--he and Mr.Baxter; and poor ignorant Melgares ought to be let off very easily.Don't you think so, daddy?"
One of her hands rested on his shoulder. He took the other in both ofhis as he smiled at her indulgently. Her news had so heartened him thathe hardly noticed her connection of Baxter with the affair. "I don'tknow about that, daughter. It isn't likely to have any effect, becausehis indictment is for murder--you know he killed Gaines while resistingarrest--and his motive in stealing the horse has no connection with thatcrime. I'm glad you told me about it, dear. I'll talk with Melgaresmyself, and see what can be done. I suppose his wife must be having ahard time. You might give her some money. And ask her," he said as hehanded Lucy some bills, "not to speak about this Jenkins matter to anyone else. Be sure you impress that upon her. It's a pretty bad case, butyou can tell his wife that everything possible will be done for him.Dell Baxter is coming down to undertake his defence; he does it fornothing. So you mustn't think so badly of him hereafter, when you seehow willing he is to make what amends he can to the poor fellow."
Lucy threw her arms about his neck and kissed his forehead. "Daddy,you're awfully good and kind--the best man in the world! About Mr.Baxter, though--" she paused to toss her head, and a little sparkleshone in her eyes--"well, I'm glad he has the decency to do it, but it'sno more than he ought; and before I think much better of him I'll waitto see if he drives any more of the poor Mexicans out of their homes."
Bancroft began to plan hopefully. He would see Melgares and get theexact facts. If this story was true it would be just the sword heneeded to hang over Jenkins. Evidently he had told Conrad nothing;therefore that check must have been campaign money from Ned Castleton tobe used for the benefit of Martinez. Jenkins would not be likely totalk: it would ruin his chance of making money out of it himself. As forCurtis--perhaps, after all, he would not be unreasonable about the offerto make restitution. Another check would reach him soon, with assuranceof more to follow speedily. Surely the man was too sensible to castaside such a start in life as this money would give him, just to carryout a crazy notion that would end in his own ruin.
"But if he will go on, he'll have nobody but himself to blame forwhatever happens," he thought. "I've given him fair warning."
The encouragement he felt turned his thoughts toward Louise Dent. In theintimacy of their daily life since she had been Lucy's visitor he hadfound her ever more lovable. He began to think, as he looked into hereyes and felt the restrained sweetness of her manner, that when heshould be free to speak she would welcome his feeling, and have for itan intoxicating return. But he could say nothing until the settlementof this affair left no further danger of discovery and disgrace.
"She must not know--neither she nor Lucy shall know--never--never a wordor hint," he thought desperately. True, Louise was not so unsparing inher moral judgments as Lucy; she was older, and, with more knowledge ofthe world, had more tolerance for the conditions under which men livedand worked. But if all that past, the past that he had believed buriedbeyond resurrection, should suddenly confront him, she and Lucy would behorrified. They would despise him. The respect, honor, and love forwhich he hungered would die; if they stayed beside him it would only befor compassion's sake. In the fierce mood that possessed him as hethought of going down again into dishonor he was ready to strike out atanybody's pity. This thing must not be. He had won his way back toposition, power, affluence; he held the love and honor of his daughterand of the woman he hoped to make his wife; what he had won he wouldkeep. His lips whitened as he struck the desk with his clenched fist.
"The past is dead, and it's got to stay dead," he muttered. "I'll winout yet, by God!"