CHAPTER XIV
ON THE EDGE OF THE PLATEAU
Now that Ferguson was satisfied beyond doubt that Leviatt had beenconcealed in the thicket above the bed of the arroyo where he had comeupon the dead Two Diamond cow, there remained but one disturbingthought: who was the man he had seen riding along the ridge away fromthe arroyo? Until he discovered the identity of the rider he mustremain absolutely in the dark concerning Leviatt's motive in concealingthe name of this other actor in the incident. He was positive thatLeviatt knew the rider, but he was equally positive that Leviatt wouldkeep this knowledge to himself.
But on this morning he was not much disturbed over the mystery. Otherthings were troubling him. Would Miss Radford go riding with him?Would she change her mind over night?
As he rode he consulted his silver timepiece. She had told him not tocome before ten. The hands of his watch pointed to ten thirty when heentered the flat, and it was near eleven when he rode up to the cabindoor--to find Miss Radford--arrayed in riding skirt, dainty boots,gauntleted gloves, blouse, and soft felt hat--awaiting him at the door.
"You're late," she said, smiling as she came out upon the porch.
If he had been less wise he might have told her that she had told himnot to come until after ten and that he had noticed that she had beenwaiting for him in spite of her apparent reluctance of yesterday. Buthe steered carefully away from this pitfall. He dismounted and threwthe bridle rein over Mustard's head, coming around beside the porch.
"I wasn't thinkin' to hurry you, ma'am," he said. "But I reckon we'llgo now. It's cert'nly a fine day for ridin'." He stood silent for amoment, looking about him. Then he flushed. "Why, I'm gettin' rightbox-headed, ma'am," he declared. "Here I am standin' an' makin' yousick with my palaver, an' your horse waitin' to be caught up."
He stepped quickly to Mustard's side and uncoiled his rope. She stoodon the porch, watching him as he proceeded to the corral, caught thepony, and flung a bridle on it. Then he led the animal to the porchand cinched the saddle carefully. Throwing the reins over the pommelof the saddle, he stood at the animal's head, waiting.
She came to the edge of the porch, placed a slender, booted foot intothe ox-bow stirrup, and swung gracefully up. In an instant he hadvaulted into his own saddle, and together they rode out upon thegray-white floor of the flat.
They rode two miles, keeping near the fringe of cottonwoods, andpresently mounted a long slope. Half an hour later Miss Radford lookedback and saw the flat spread out behind, silent, vast, deserted,slumbering in the swimming white sunlight. A little later she lookedagain, and the flat was no longer there, for they had reached the crestof the slope and their trail had wound them round to a broad level,from which began another slope, several miles distant.
They had ridden for more than two hours, talking very little, when theyreached the crest of the last rise and saw, spreading before them, alevel many miles wide, stretching away in three directions. It was agrass plateau, but the grass was dry and drooping and rustled under theponies' hoofs. There were no trees, but a post oak thicket skirted thesouthern edge, and it was toward this that he urged his pony. Shefollowed, smiling to think that he was deceiving himself in believingthat she had not yet explored this place.
They came close to the thicket, and he swung off his horse and stood ather stirrup.
"I was wantin' you to see the country from here," he said, as he helpedher down. She watched him while he picketed the horses, so that theymight not stray. Then they went together to the edge of the thicket,seating themselves in a welcome shade.
At their feet the plateau dropped sheer, as though cut with a knife,and a little way out from the base lay a narrow ribbon of water thatflowed slowly in its rocky bed, winding around the base of a smallhill, spreading over a shallow bottom, and disappearing between thebuttes farther down.
Everything beneath them was distinguishable, though distant. Knobsrose here; there a flat spread. Mountains frowned in the distance, butso far away that they seemed like papier-mache shapes towering in a seaof blue. Like a map the country seemed as Miss Radford and Fergusonlooked down upon it, yet a big map, over which one might wonder; morevast, more nearly perfect, richer in detail than any that could beevolved from the talents of man.
Ridges, valleys, gullies, hills, knobs, and draws were all laid out ina vast basin. Miss Radford's gaze swept down into a section of flatnear the river.
"Why, there are some cattle down there!" she exclaimed.
"Sure," he returned; "they're Two Diamond. Way off there behind thatridge is where the wagon is." He pointed to a long range of flat hillsthat stretched several miles. "The boys that are workin' on the otherside of that ridge can't see them cattle like we can. Looks plumre-diculous."
"There are no men with those cattle down there," she said, pointing tothose below in the flat.
"No," he returned quietly; "they're all off on the other side of theridge."
She smiled demurely at him. "Then we won't be interrupted--as we wereyesterday," she said.
Did she know that this was why he had selected this spot for the end ofthe ride? He looked quickly at her, but answered slowly.
"They couldn't see us," he said. "If we was out in the open we'd beright on the skyline. Then anyone could see us. But we've got thisthicket behind us, an' I reckon from down there we'd be pretty nearinvisible."
He turned around, clasping his hands about one knee and lookingsquarely at her. "I expect you done a heap with your bookyesterday--after I went away?"
Her cheeks colored a little under his straight gaze.
"I didn't stay there long," she equivocated. "But I got some very goodideas, and I am glad that I didn't write much. I should have had todestroy it, because I have decided upon a different beginning. Benmade the trip to Dry Bottom yesterday, and last night he told somethingthat had happened there that has given me some very good material for abeginning."
"That's awful interestin'," he observed. "So now you'll be able tostart your book with somethin' that really happened?"
"Real and original," she returned, with a quick glance at him. "Bentold me that about a month ago some men had a shooting match in DryBottom. They used a can for a target, and one man kept it in the airuntil he put six bullet holes through it. Ben says he is pretty handywith his weapons, but he could never do that. He insists that few mencan, and he is inclined to think that the man who did do it must havebeen a gunfighter. I suppose you have never tried it?"
Over his lips while she had been speaking had crept the slight mockingsmile which always told better than words of the cold cynicism thatmoved him at times. Did she know anything? Did she suspect him? Thesmile masked an interest that illumined his eyes very slightly as helooked at her.
"I expect that is plum slick shootin'," he returned slowly. "But somemen can do it. I've knowed them. But I ain't heard that it's beendone lately in this here country. I reckon Ben told you somethin' ofhow this man looked?"
He had succeeded in putting the question very casually, and she had notcaught the note of deep interest in his voice.
"Why it's very odd," she said, looking him over carefully; "from Ben'sdescription I should assume that the man looked very like you!"
If her reply had startled him he gave little evidence of it. He satperfectly quiet, gazing with steady eyes out over the big basin. For atime she sat silent also, her gaze following his. Then she turned.
"That would be odd, wouldn't it?" she said.
"What would?" he answered, not looking at her.
"Why, if you _were_ the man who had done that shooting! It wouldfollow out the idea of my plot perfectly. For in my story the hero ishired to shoot a supposed rustler, and of course he would have to be agood shot. And since Ben has told me the story of the shooting match Ihave decided that the hero in my story shall be tested in that mannerbefore being employed to shoot the rustler. Then he comes to thesupposed rustler's cabin and meets the heroine, in much th
e same mannerthat you came. Now if it should turn out that you were the man who didthe shooting in Dry Bottom my story up to this point would be verynearly real. And that would be fine!"
She had allowed a little enthusiasm to creep into her voice, and helooked up at her quickly, a queer expression in his eyes.
"You goin' to have your 'two-gun' man bit by a rattler?" he questioned.
"Well, I don't know about that. It would make very little difference.But I should be delighted to find that you were the man who did theshooting over at Dry Bottom. Say that you are!"
Even now he could not tell whether there was subtlety in her voice Theold doubt rose again in his mind. Was she really serious in sayingthat she intended putting all this in her story, or was this a ruse,concealing an ulterior purpose? Suppose she and her brother suspectedhim of being the man who had participated in the shooting match in DryBottom? Suppose the brother, or she, had invented this tale about thebook to draw him out? He was moved to an inward humor, amused to thinkthat either of them should imagine him shallow enough to be caught thus.
But what if they did catch him? Would they gain by it? They couldgain nothing, but the knowledge would serve to put them on their guard.But if she did suspect him, what use was there in evasion or denial?He smiled whimsically.
"I reckon your story is goin' to be real up to this point," hereturned. "A while back I did shoot at a can in Dry Bottom."
She gave an exclamation of delight. "Now, isn't that marvelous? Noone shall be able to say that my beginning will be strictly fiction."She leaned closer to him, her eyes alight with eagerness. "Now pleasedon't say that you are the man who shot the can five times," shepleaded. "I shouldn't want my hero to be beaten at anything heundertook. But I know that you were not beaten. Were you?"
He smiled gravely. "I reckon I wasn't beat," he returned.
She sat back and surveyed him with satisfaction.
"I knew it," she stated, as though in her mind there had never existedany doubt of the fact. "Now," she said, plainly pleased over theresult of her questioning, "I shall be able to proceed, entirelyconfident that my hero will be able to give a good account of himselfin any situation."
Her eyes baffled him. He gave up watching her and turned to look atthe world beneath him. He would have given much to know her thoughts.She had said that from her brother's description of the man who had wonthe shooting match at Dry Bottom she would assume that that man hadlooked very like him. Did her brother hold this opinion also?
Ferguson cared very little if he did. He was accustomed to danger, andhe had gone into this business with his eyes open. And if Ben didknow---- Unconsciously his lips straightened and his chin went forwardslightly, giving his face an expression of hardness that made him lookten years older. Watching him, the girl drew a slow, full breath. Itwas a side of his character with which she was as yet unacquainted, andshe marveled over it, comparing it to the side she already knew--theside that he had shown her--quiet, thoughtful, subtle. And now at aglance she saw him as men knew him--unyielding, unafraid, indomitable.
Yet there was much in this sudden revelation of character to admire.She liked a man whom other men respected for the very traits that hisexpression had revealed. No man would be likely to adopt an air ofsuperiority toward him; none would attempt to trifle with him. Shefelt that she ought not to trifle, but moved by some unaccountableimpulse, she laughed.
He turned his head at the laugh and looked quizzically at her.
"I hope you were not thinking of killing some one?" she taunted.
His right hand slowly clenched. Something metallic suddenly glintedhis eyes, to be succeeded instantly by a slight mockery. "You afraidsome one's goin' to be killed?" he inquired slowly.
"Well--no," she returned, startled by the question. "But you lookedso--so determined that I--I thought----"
He suddenly seized her arm and drew her around so that she faced thelittle stretch of plain near the ridge about which they had beenspeaking previously. His lips were in straight lines again, his eyesgleaming interestedly.
"You see that man down there among them cattle?" he questioned.
Following his gaze, she saw a man among perhaps a dozen cattle. At themoment she looked the man had swung a rope, and she saw the loop falltrue over the head of a cow the man had selected, saw the pony pivotand drag the cow prone. Then the man dismounted, ran swiftly to theside of the fallen cow, and busied himself about her hind legs.
"What is he doing?" she asked, a sudden excitement shining in her eyes.
"He's hog-tieing her now," returned Ferguson.
She knew what that meant. She had seen Ben throw cattle in this mannerwhen he was branding them. "Hog-tieing" meant binding their hind legswith a short piece of rope to prevent struggling while the brand wasbeing applied.
Apparently this was what the man was preparing to do. Smoke from anearby fire curled lazily upward, and about this fire the man nowworked--evidently turning some branding irons. He gave some littletime to this, and while Miss Radford watched she heard Ferguson's voiceagain.
"I reckon we're goin' to see some fun pretty soon," he said quietly.
"Why?" she inquired quickly.
He smiled. "Do you see that man ridin' through that break on theridge?" he asked, pointing the place out to her. She nodded, puzzledby his manner. He continued dryly.
"Well, if that man that's comin' through the break is what he ought tobe he'll be shootin' pretty soon."
"Why?" she gasped, catching at his sleeve, "why should he shoot?"
He laughed again--grimly. "Well," he returned, "if a puncher ketches arustler with the goods on he's got a heap of right to do some shootin'."
She shuddered. "And do you think that man among the cattle is arustler?" she asked.
"Wait," he advised, peering intently toward the ridge. "Why," hecontinued presently, "there's another man ridin' this way. An' he'shidin' from the other--keepin' in the gullies an' the draws so's thefirst man can't see him if he looks back." He laughed softly. "It'splum re-diculous. Here we are, able to see all that's goin' on downthere an' not able to take a hand in it. An' there's them three goin'ahead with what they're thinkin' about, not knowin' that we're watchin'them, an' two of them not knowin' that the third man is watchin'. I'dcall that plum re-diculous."
The first man was still riding through the break in the ridge, comingboldly, apparently unconscious of the presence of the man among thecattle, who was well concealed from the first man's eyes by a rockypromontory at the corner of the break. The third man was not over aneighth of a mile behind the first man, and riding slowly and carefully.At the rate the first man was riding not five minutes would elapsebefore he would come out into the plain full upon the point where theman among the cattle was working at his fire.
Ferguson and Miss Radford watched the scene with interest. Plainly thefirst man was intruding. Or if not, he was the rustler's confederateand the third man was spying upon him. Miss Radford and Ferguson wereto discover the key to the situation presently.
"Do you think that man among the cattle is a rustler?" questioned MissRadford. In her excitement she had pressed very close to Ferguson andwas clutching his arm very tightly.
"I reckon he is," returned Ferguson. "I ain't rememberin' that anyranch has cows that run the range unbranded; especially when the cowhas got a calf, unless that cow is a maverick, an' that ain't likely,since she's runnin' with the Two Diamond bunch."
He leaned forward, for the man had left the fire and was running towardthe fallen cow. Once at her side the man bent over her, pressing thehot irons against the bottoms of her hoofs. A thin wreath of smokecurled upward; the cow struggled.
Ferguson looked at Miss Radford. "Burnt her hoofs," he said shortly,"so she can't follow when he runs her calf off."
"The brute!" declared Miss Radford, her face paling with anger.
The man was fumbling with the rope that bound the cow's legs, when thefirst man rode aro
und the edge of the break and came full upon him.From the distance at which Miss Radford and Ferguson watched they couldnot see the expression of either man's face, but they saw the rustler'sright hand move downward; saw his pistol glitter in the sunlight.
But the pistol was not raised. The first man's pistol had appearedjust a fraction of a second sooner, and they saw that it was poised,menacing the rustler.
For an instant the two men were motionless. Ferguson felt the grasp onhis arm tighten, and he turned his head to see Miss Radford's face,pale and drawn; her eyes lifted to his with a slow, dawning horror inthem.
"Oh!" she exclaimed. "They are going to shoot!" She withdrew her handfrom Ferguson's arm and held it, with the other, to her ears, cringingaway from the edge of the cliff. She waited, breathless, for--itseemed to her--the space of several minutes, her head turned from themen, her eyes closed for fear that she might, in the dread of themoment, look toward the plain. She kept telling herself that she wouldnot turn, but presently, in spite of her determination, the suspensewas too great, and she turned quickly and fearfully, expecting to seeat least one riderless horse. That would have been horrible enough.
To her surprise both men still kept the positions that they had heldwhen she had turned away. The newcomer's revolver still menaced therustler. She looked up into Ferguson's face, to see a grim smile onit, to see his eyes, chilled and narrowed, fixed steadily upon the twohorsemen.
"Oh!" she said, "is it over?"
Ferguson heard the question, and smiled mirthlessly without turning hishead.
"I reckon it ain't over--yet," he returned. "But I expect it'll beover pretty soon, if that guy that's got his gun on the rustler don'tget a move on right quick. That other guy is comin' around the cornerof that break, an' if he's the rustler's friend that man with the gunwill get his pretty rapid." His voice raised a trifle, a slightlyanxious note in it.
"Why don't the damn fool turn around? He could see that last man nowif he did. Now, what do you think of that?" Ferguson's voice wassharp and tense, and, in spite of herself, Miss Radford's gaze shiftedagain to the plains below her. Fascinated, her fear succumbing to theintense interest of the moment, she followed the movements of the trio.
From around the corner of the break the third man had ridden. He wasnot over a hundred feet from the man who had caught the rustler and hewas walking his horse now. The watchers on the edge of the plateaucould see that he had taken in the situation and was stealing upon thecaptor, who sat in his saddle, his back to the advancing rider.
Drawing a little closer, the third man stealthily dropped from his ponyand crept forward. The significance of this movement dawned upon MissRadford in a flash, and she again seized Ferguson's arm, tugging at itfiercely.
"Why, he's going to kill that man!" she cried. "Can't you dosomething? For mercy's sake do! Shout, or shoot off your pistol--dosomething to warn him!"
Ferguson flashed a swift glance at her, and she saw that his face worea queer pallor. His expression had grown grimmer, but he smiled--alittle sadly, she thought.
"It ain't a bit of use tryin' to do anything," he returned, his gazeagain on the men. "We're two miles from them men an' a thousand feetabove them. There ain't any pistol report goin' to stop what's goin'on down there. All we can do is to watch. Mebbe we can recognize oneof them. . . . Shucks!"
The exclamation was called from him by a sudden movement on the part ofthe captor. The third man must have made a noise, for the captorturned sharply. At the instant he did so the rustler's pistol flashedin the sunlight.
The watchers on the plateau did not hear the report at once, and whenthey did it came to them only faintly--a slight sound which was barelydistinguishable. But they saw a sudden spurt of flame and smoke. Thecaptor reeled drunkenly in his saddle, caught blindly at the pommel,and then slid slowly down into the grass of the plains.
Ferguson drew a deep breath and, turning, looked sharply at MissRadford. She had covered her face with her hands and was swayingdizzily. He was up from the rock in a flash and was supporting her,leading her away from the edge of the plateau. She went unresisting,her slender figure shuddering spasmodically, her hands still coveringher face.
"Oh!" she exclaimed, as the horror of the scene rose in her mind. "Thebrutes! The brutes!"
Feeling that if he kept quiet she would recover from the shock of theincident sooner, Ferguson said nothing in reply to her outbreaks as heled her toward the ponies. For a moment after reaching them she leanedagainst her animal's shoulder, her face concealed from Ferguson by thepony's mane. Then he was at her side, speaking firmly.
"You must get away from here," he said, "I ought to have got you awaybefore--before that happened."
She looked up, showing him a pair of wide, dry eyes, in which there wasstill a trace of horror. An expression of grave self-accusation shonein his.
"You were not to blame," she said dully. "You may have anticipated ameeting of those men, but you could not have foreseen the end. Oh!"She shuddered again. "To think of seeing a man deliberately murdered!"
"That's just what it was," he returned quietly; "just plain murder.They had him between them. He didn't have a chance. He was bound toget it from one or the other. Looks like they trapped him; run himdown there on purpose." He held her stirrup.
"I reckon you've seen enough, ma'am," he added. "You'd better hopright on your horse an' get back to Bear Flat."
She shivered and raised her head, looking at him--a flash of fear inher eyes. "You are going down there!" she cried, her eyes dilating.
He laughed grimly. "I cert'nly am, ma'am," he returned. "You'd bettergo right off. I'm ridin' down there to see how bad that man is hit."
She started toward him, protesting. "Why, they will kill you, too!"she declared.
He laughed again, with a sudden grim humor. "There ain't any danger,"he returned. "They've sloped."
Involuntarily she looked down. Far out on the plains, through thebreak in the ridge of hills, she could see two horsemen racing away.
"The cowards!" she cried, her voice shaking with anger. "To shoot aman in cold blood and then run!" She looked at Ferguson, her figurestiffening with decision.
"If you go down there I am going, too!" she declared. "He might needsome help," she added, seeing the objection in his eyes, "and if hedoes I may be able to give it to him. You know," she continued,smiling wanly, "I have had some experience with sick people."
He said nothing more, but silently assisted her into the saddle andswung into his own. They urged the animals to a rapid pace, shefollowing him eagerly.
It was a rough trail, leading through many gullies, around miniaturehills, into bottoms where huge boulders and treacherous sand barred theway, along the face of dizzy cliffs, and through lava beds where thefooting was uncertain and dangerous. But in an hour they were on theplains and riding toward the break in the ridge of hills, where theshooting had been done.
The man's pony had moved off a little and was grazing unconcernedlywhen they arrived. A brown heap in the grass told where the man lay,and presently Ferguson was down beside him, one of his limp wristsbetween his fingers. He stood up after a moment, to confront MissRadford, who had fallen behind during the last few minutes of the ride.Ferguson's face was grave, and there was a light in his eyes thatthrilled her for a moment as she looked at him.
"He ain't dead, ma'am," he said as he assisted her down from her pony."The bullet got him in the shoulder."
She caught a queer note in his voice--something approaching appeal.She looked swiftly at him, suspicious. "Do you know him?" she asked.
"I reckon I do, ma'am," he returned. "It's Rope Jones. Once he stoodby me when he thought I needed a friend. If there's any chance I'mgoin' to get him to your cabin--where you can take care of him till hegets over this--if he ever does."
She realized now how this tragedy had shocked her. She reeled and theworld swam dizzily before her. Again she saw Ferguson dart forward,but s
he steadied herself and smiled reassuringly.
"It is merely the thought that I must now put my little knowledge to asevere test," she said. "It rather frightened me. I don't knowwhether anything can be done."
She succeeded in forcing herself to calmness and gave orders rapidly.
"Get something under his head," she commanded. "No, that will be toohigh," she added, as she saw Ferguson start to unbuckle the saddlecinch on his pony. "Raise his head only a very little. That roundthing that you have fastened to your saddle (the slicker) would do verywell. There. Now get some water!"
She was down beside the wounded man in another instant, cutting away asection of the shirt near the shoulder, with a knife that she hadborrowed from Ferguson. The wound had not bled much and was lower thanFerguson had thought. But she gave it what care she could, and whenFerguson arrived with water--from the river, a mile away--she dressedthe wound and applied water to Rope's forehead.
Soon she saw that her efforts were to be of little avail. Rope laypitifully slack and unresponsive. At the end of an hour's workFerguson bent over her with a question on his lips.
"Do you reckon he'll come around, ma'am?"
She shook her head negatively. "The bullet has lodgedsomewhere--possibly in the lung," she returned. "It entered just abovethe heart, and he has bled much--internally. He may never regainconsciousness."
Ferguson's face paled with a sudden anger. "In that case, ma'am, we'llnever know who shot him," he said slowly. "An' I'm wantin' to knowthat. Couldn't you fetch him to, ma'am--just long enough so's I couldask him?"
She looked up with a slow glance. "I can try," she said. "Is thereany more whiskey in your flask?"
He produced the flask, and they both bent over Rope, forcing a generousportion of the liquor down his throat. Then, alternately bathing thewound and his forehead, they watched. They were rewarded presently bya faint flicker of the eyelids and a slow flow of color in the palecheeks. Then after a little the eyes opened.
In an instant Ferguson's lips were close to Rope's ear. "Who shot you,Rope, old man?" he asked eagerly. "You don't need to be afraid to tellme, it's Ferguson."
The wounded man's eyes were glazed with a dull incomprehension. Butslowly, as though at last he was faintly conscious of the significanceof the question, his eyes glinted with the steady light of returningreason. Suddenly he smiled, his lips opening slightly. Both watchersleaned tensely forward to catch the low words.
"Ferguson told me to look out," he mumbled. "He told me to be carefulthat they didn't get me between them. But I wasn't thinkin' it wouldhappen just that way." And now his eyes opened scornfully and hestruggled and lifted himself upon one arm, gazing at some imaginaryobject.
"Why," he said slowly and distinctly, his voice cold and metallic,"you're a hell of a range boss! Why you----!" he broke off suddenly,his eyes fixed full upon Miss Radford. "Why, it's a woman! An' Ithought---- Why, ma'am," he went on, apologetically, "I didn't knowyou was there! . . . But you ain't goin' to run off no calf while I'mlookin' at you. Shucks! Won't the Ol' Man be some surprised to knowthat Tucson an'----"
He shuddered spasmodically and sat erect with a great effort.
"You've got me, damn you!" he sneered. "But you won't never getanyone----"
He swung his right hand over his head, as though the hand held apistol. But the arm suddenly dropped, he shuddered again, and sankslowly back--his eyes wide and staring, but unseeing.
Ferguson looked sharply at Miss Radford, who was suddenly bending overthe prostrate man, her head on his breast. She arose after a little,tears starting to her eyes.
"He has gone," she said slowly.