The Texan by James B. Hendryx (reading in the dark .TXT) 📖

the half-breed a pair of hand-cuffs, and started after his own horse. "Kill him if he makes a crooked move. Tell him you're actin' under my authority an' let him understand we're hard men to tamper with—us sheriffs. We don't stand fer no foolin'."

In Curly Hardee's dance-hall Tex Benton leaned against the wall and idly watched the couples weave in and out upon the floor to the whining accompaniment of the fiddles and the clanging piano.

Apparently the cowboy's interest centred solely upon the dancers, but a close observer would have noticed the keen glance with which he scanned each new arrival—noticed too, that after a few short puffs on a cigarette the man tossed it to the floor and immediately rolled another, which is not in the manner of a man with a mind at ease.

The Texan saw Endicott enter the room, watched as the man's eyes swept the faces of dancers and spectators, and smiled as he turned toward the door.

"Three of us," mused the cowboy, with the peculiar smile still twisting the corners of his lips, "Purdy, an' me, an' the pilgrim. Purdy's work's so coarse he'll gum his own game, an' that's where I come in. An' the pilgrim—I ain't quite figgered how he stacks up." The cowpuncher glanced at his watch. "It's time they showed up long ago. I wonder what's keepin' em." Suddenly he straightened himself with a jerk: "Good Lord! I wonder if—— But no, not even Purdy would try that. Still, if he knows I know he tried to dope me he'll be figgerin' on pullin' his freight anyhow, an'—" The man's lips tightened and, elbowing his way to the door he stepped onto the street and hurried to the Headquarters saloon. Cinnabar Joe was behind the bar, apparently none the worse for his dose of chloral, and in answer to a swift signal, followed the Texan to the rear of the room.

"Does Purdy know I'm wise to his dope game?"

The bartender nodded: "Yes, I told him you must of switched the glasses."

"I saw him leadin' your horse rigged up with your side-saddle acrost the flats awhile back."

Again the bartender nodded: "He borrowed the outfit fer a gal of his'n he said come in on the train. Wanted to take her fer a ride."

"Where'd they go?" The words whipped viciously.

"Search me! I've had my hands full to keep track of what's goin' on in here, let alone outside."

Without a word the Texan stepped out the back door and hastened toward the horse corral behind the livery stable. Circling its fence to the head of the alley, he stared in surprise at the spot where he and Bat Lajune had tied their horses. The animals were gone, and cursing the half-breed at every step, he rushed to the street, and catching up the reins of a big roan that stood in a group of horses, swung into the saddle and headed out onto the trail.

"Women are fools," he muttered savagely. "It beats hell what even the sensible ones will fall for!"

At the up-bend of the trail he halted abruptly and listened. From the shadows of the coulee ahead came the sound of voices and the soft scraping of horses' feet. He drew the roan into a cottonwood thicket and waited.

"Somethin' funny here. Nobody ever come to a dance ridin' at a walk," he muttered, and then as the little cavalcade broke into the bright moonlight at a bend of the trail, his eyes widened with surprise. In front rode Bat Lajune with Purdy's horse snubbed to his saddle-horn, and immediately following him were the girl and Endicott riding side by side. Tex saw that the girl was crying, and that Endicott's hands were manacled, and that he rode the missing horse. Behind them rode Sam Moore, pompously erect, a six-shooter laid across the horn of his saddle, and a scowl of conceited importance upon his face that would have evoked the envy of the Kaiser of Krautland. The figure appealed to the Texan's sense of humour and waiting until the deputy was exactly opposite his place of concealment, he filled his lungs and leaned forward in his saddle.

"Y-e-e-e-o-w!" The sound blared out like the shrill of doom. The officer's six-shooter thudded upon the ground, his hands grasped the horn of the saddle, his spurs dug into his horse's flanks and sent the animal crashing between the girl and Endicott and caused Purdy's horse to tear loose from the half-breed's saddle-horn.

"Stand 'em off, Bat!" shrieked the deputy as he shot past, "I'm a-goin' fer help!" and away he tore, leaning far over his horse's neck, with Purdy's horse, the stirrups lashing his sides, dashing madly in his wake.

A moment later Tex pushed his mount into the trail where the girl, drawn close to Endicott, waited in fearful expectation. The half-breed met him with a grin.

Rapidly, with many ejaculations interspersing explosive volleys of half-intelligible words, Bat acquainted the Texan with the progress of events. The cowpuncher listened without comment until the other had finished. Then he turned to Endicott.

"Where'd you learn to shoot?" he asked abruptly.

"I never learned. Until tonight I never had a pistol in my hand."

"You done damned well—to start out with," commented the Texan dryly.

"But, oh, it's horrible!" sobbed the girl, "and it's all my fault!"

"I reckon that's right. It looks like a bad mix-up all around."

"Oh, why didn't you tell me what a beast he was? You knew all the time. And when you insulted him I thought you were horrid! And I thought he was so noble when he refrained from shooting you."

"No. He wasn't noble, none noticeable—Purdy wasn't. An' as for me tellin' you about him—answer me square: Would you have believed me?"

The girl's eyes fell before his steady gaze.

"No," she faltered, "I wouldn't. But isn't there something we can do?
Some way out of this awful mess?"

The Texan's eyes flashed a glint of daring. He was thinking rapidly. Endicott moved his horse closer to the cowboy. "Can't you manage to get her away—onto a train some place so she can avoid the annoyance of having to testify at the trial, and submit to the insulting remarks of your sheriff?"

The girl interrupted him: "Winthrop Adams Endicott, if you dare to even think such a thing—I'll never speak to you again! Indeed he won't take me away or put me on any train! I got you into this, and I won't budge one inch until you get out of it. What do I care for a little annoyance—and as for the sheriff, I'll say 'boo' at him in the dark and he'll die."

There was a gleam of approval in the eyes of the Texan as his lips twisted into their peculiar cynical smile. "Spunky little devil," he thought to himself. "There's a chance to pull a play here somewhere that'll make me solid with her all right. I got to have time to think." Aloud he said: "Just you leave things to me. I'll get a line on what's what. But you both got to do as I say, an' no augerin' about it neither. It looks from here as if things could be straightened out if someone don't go to work an' ball the jack. An' as for Sam passin' insultin' remarks no more—he won't. Here he comes now with about half Wolf River for a posse." The cowboy turned to Endicott: "You go 'long with 'em an' lay low 'til you hear from Bat, there, or me. Then you do as we say, an' don't ask no questions."

The rumble of horses' feet sounded from the direction of the little town and the Texan whispered to Bat: "Find out where they lock him up. An' when the excitement dies down you find me. I ain't a-goin' to lose sight of her—see." The half-breed grinned his understanding and Tex swung his horse in close beside the girl and awaited the coming of the posse.

With a yell the onrushing cowboys whom the deputy had recruited from the dance-hall spied the little group and, thundering up at full gallop, formed a closely packed circle about them. Recognizing the deputy who was vociferously urging his horse from the rear, Tex forced his way through the circle and called him aside.

"Say, Sam," he drawled, in a tone that caused the deputy's hair to prickle at its roots; "about some an' sundry insultin' remarks you passed agin' the lady, yonder——"

"No, I never——"

"That'll be about all the lyin' you need to do now. An' just let this sink in. You can lock up the pilgrim where you damn please. But the lady goes to the hotel. If you aim to hold her as a witness you can appoint a guard—an' I'm the guard. D'you get me? 'Cause if there's any misunderstandin' lingerin' in them scrambled aigs you use fer brains, I'll just start out by tellin' the boys what a hell of a brave arrest you pulled off, an' about the nervy stand you made agin' odds to guard your prisoners when I yipped at you from the brush. Then, after they get through havin' their fun out of you, I'll just waste a shell on you for luck—see?"

"Sure, Tex, that sounds reasonable," the other rattled on in evident relief. "Fact is, I be'n huntin' fer you ever sense I suspicioned they'd be'n a murder. 'If I c'd only find Tex,' I says to myself, I says, 'he'd be worth a hull posse hisself.' Jest you go ahead an' night-herd the lady. I'll tell her myself so's it'll be official. An' me an' the rest of the boys here, we'll take care of the pilgrim, which he ain't no pilgrim at all, but a desperate desperado, or he couldn't never have got Jack Purdy the way he done."

The Texan grinned and, forcing his horse through the crowd, reached the girl's side where he was joined a few moments later by the deputy. Despite her embarrassing situation Alice Marcum could scarce restrain a smile at the officer's sudden obsequious deference. Stetson in hand, he bowed awkwardly. "Excuse me, mom, but, as I was goin' on to say in reference of any remarks I might of passed previous, I found out subsequent I didn't mean what I was sayin', which I misunderstood myself complete. But as I was goin' on to say, mom, the State of Montany might need you fer a witness in this here felonious trial, so if you'll be so kind an' go to the _ho_tel along of Tex here whom he's the party I've tolled off fer to guard you, an' don't stand no monkey business neither. What I mean is," he hastened to add, catching a glance from the Texan's eye, "don't be afraid to ask fer soap or towels if there hain't none in yer room, an' if yer cold holler fer an extry blanket er two. The State's a-payin' fer it, an' yer board, too, an' if they don't fill you up every meal you set up a yell an' I'll see 't they do." The deputy turned abruptly away and addressed the cowboys: "Come on, boys, let's git this character under lock an' key so I kin breathe easier."

Even Endicott joined in the laugh that greeted the man's words and, detaining a cowpuncher to ride on either side of the prisoner, the officer solemnly led the way toward town.

CHAPTER VIII ONE WAY OUT

As the horses traversed the two miles of winding trail, Alice Marcum glanced from time to time at the Texan who rode silently at her side. The man's face was grave and he seemed entirely oblivious to her presence. Only once did she venture to speak to him.

"I suppose I ought to thank you, Mr.——"

"Tex'll do," supplied the man, without even the courtesy of a glance.

"—for the very changed attitude of the sheriff, and for the fact that I am to be lodged in the hotel instead of the jail."

The girl thought the Texan's lips drew into their peculiar smile, but he gave no further evidence of having heard and rode on