Raiders of Spanish Peaks Read online

  “Which don’t mean nothin’ atall to me,” sneered Lonesome. At this juncture Tracks Williams stalked out: “Lonesome, what—” he panted, as if from hurried effort.

  “Stay back, pard,” replied Lonesome, waving his friend aside, without even turning. “Look ’em over from ——”

  “You bellyachin’ little geezer,” snorted the self-introduced Slim Red. “I’m gonna bounce on you an’ jam your square head down into your gizzard so you’ll look like a smashed toad. I’m the rarinest wrastlinest wildcat on this range ——”

  “Save your wind. An’ look out what you say,” warned Lonesome. “Mebbe you don’t savvy this outfit. We’ve got ladies in camp.”

  “Aw, to hell with your emigrants! What’d you bust in on us for with your lousy petticoats ——”

  “Shut up, Slim!” called the ringing voice from behind. “This is Lindsay’s wagon-train.”

  Bam! A sound like a bass-drum appeared to come simultaneously with Lonesome’s sudden lurch and swing. Slim Red uttered a hoarse gasp. He doubled up like a jackknife, and opening back again he began to sink down to the ground, his hands on his abdomen, his face distorted hideously, his mouth agape, from which issued a whistling expulsion of breath. He sank to his knees, sagged and flopped down.

  “Mebbe that’ll shut off your wind,” declared Lonesome.

  Then a bareheaded man leaped by the group. He held a coat over his shoulders, as if he had hastily thrown it there to keep off the rain. This lithe, bronzed, eagle-eyed newcomer was Luke Arlidge. With a start Harriet recognized him. And what had been amazed perturbation for her suddenly augmented to fright. A chill shot over her, and she trembled. She clutched Lenta who had appeared to freeze against her. Nelson had not moved. What was the meaning of his strange immobility? Hints about Arlidge flashed confusedly through Harriet’s mind. Something dire impended. Was this the ——?

  “Did you hit him?” demanded Arlidge, harshly, of Lonesome.

  “Me? Naw, I didn’t hit him. I just caressed his windbag.”

  “Luke, that’s nobody but Lonesome Mulhall,” declared a short, thick-set individual who had followed Arlidge.

  “Hullo, Price! … Well, I wouldn’t be surprised now at anythin’,” said Lonesome, in a low tone.

  “Luke, I had a rope round the neck of thet bow-legged little rustle ——”

  “Cut any talk about rustlers heah!” broke in Nelson, his voice remarkably piercing and arresting.

  Arlidge whirled with a violent start. He espied Nelson. He peered, he crouched as if to see under a shadow. Then with slow rigidity he straightened up, his face full in the fire-flare. The bronze had changed to ashen hue.

  “What’d you—say?” Arlidge queried, with a husky break in his voice.

  “Yu heahed me.”

  “Luke, so help me Gawd it’s that Texas rider who beat me out of hangin’ Mulhall!” rasped Price. “I told you. It happened three—four years ago.”

  Lonesome shook a burly fist in Price’s agitated face. “You bet your sweet life it’s that Texas rider who saved my neck. An’ what was you hangin’ me for? I’m a-roarin’ it at you, Price. I want my outfit to heah. I cut you out with a girl an’ to get rid of me you tried to hang me as a rustler.”

  “Didn’t I ketch you brandin’ a steer?” shouted Price, furiously.

  “Mebbe you did. I forget that. But I wasn’t no rustler.”

  “Yes, you are. A two-bit cow-punchin’ rustler!”

  “Price, take thet back or go for yore gun,” interposed Nelson, coldly and slowly.

  The stocky pallid-faced man gulped. “All right, if you’re so testy about it. I crawl.”

  “Riders who live in glass houses shore oughtn’t throw stones about,” returned Nelson, with a hint of his habitual drawl.

  “Who the hell are you?” demanded Arlidge, in fierce uncertainty.

  “Wal, yu ought to remember an old Nebraskie rider who shore remembers yu.”

  “Laramie Nelson!” exclaimed Arlidge in a hoarse whisper. His fingers snapped audibly and his hand moved as if to flash in sudden violent gesture. But it froze to the sleeve of his coat, which had begun to slip from his shoulders.

  Suddenly the seven or eight spectators behind Arlidge split and leaped frantically to each side. Price too made a flying leap to get out from line with Arlidge. A teamster sang out: “Fellars, hell’ll be poppin’ heah pronto!” And he dove under a wagon.

  Harriet, though a thorough tenderfoot, did not fail to grasp the significance of the moment. She had been half prepared. There would be shooting—blood spilled—men murdered. Perhaps Nelson! And she sickened with revulsion while some other unknown and violent sensation attacked her.

  “What you—doing—out here?” asked Arlidge, haltingly.

  “Wal, I might ask yu the same.”

  “I was foreman for Allen. He sold out to Lindsay…. I went with the deal.”

  “Shore. I heahed thet. But my idee is—if yu do any more ridin’ it won’t be with Lindsay’s outfit.”

  “Hell—you say,” panted Arlidge. Sweat stood out on his face. He gave an impression of intense preoccupation, of an uncertainty which he needed to have time to meet.

  “And why won’t I?”

  “Wal, I’m ridin’ for Lindsay an’ this ranch won’t be big enough for both of us, seein’ yu won’t live up to yore brag.”

  Arlidge tossed his coat to Price, who stood aside. He appeared violent, furious, yet singularly relieved.

  “I’m not toting my gun, which I reckon you seen,” he retorted.

  “Ahuh. I see thet now. Wal, I reckon it’s good luck for yu an’ bad for the range.”

  Arlidge made a passionate gesture. He seemed torn within. His roving gaze sighted Lindsay’s white face peering out of the wagon-tent.

  “Lindsay, is it true? Have you hired this Laramie Nelson?”

  “I have. And he was highly recommended by no less than Buffalo Jones,” replied Lindsay, emphatically.

  “Then I quit. I wouldn’t have Nelson in my outfit,” snapped Arlidge. “You’ll be left flat. My riders will stick to me ——”

  “Don’t speak for all of us,” interrupted one of the bystanders. “You’ve kept me an’ Dakota an’ Clay slavin’ for months without pay, all on the chance of this Lindsay deal goin’ through. An’ since it ’pears to have done so we’ll have a talk with him.”

  “Split my outfit, will you?” shouted Arlidge, further enraged. “Look to yourself, Mayhew.”

  “Aw, you can’t bluff me,” returned the rider called Mayhew. “I just heerd you called to your face. An’ I ain’t denyin’ I’m damned curious…. Come on, pards. Let’s mosey.” Then as he and his two comrades turned away Mayhew wheeled to say: “Mr. Lindsay, we three ain’t tied to Arlidge an’ we’d like to talk to you.”

  “Certainly. Glad you’ll stand by me,” replied Lindsay, spiritedly. “And as for you, Arlidge—I’m pretty curious myself, and bet I’ll be better off without you.”

  “Tenderfeet have stopped lead for less than that,” rejoined Arlidge, contemptuously. “You’ll have a fine time ranchin’ it here, with less than half an outfit. Rustlers made off with four thousand head of your cattle just three days ago. Let’s see your gun-slingin’ Nelson drive them back. Ha! Ha!”

  “You insolent fellow!” ejaculated Lindsay.

  “Out of this, Price, an’ you gapin’ fools. Get up, Slim, before you show yellow like Mayhew an’ his cronies.”

  Whereupon Arlidge stalked away down the courtyard with the remainder of his men. Lonesome was the first of those watching to break silence.

  “Dog-gone, Laramie, it couldn’t have come off no better,” he declared. “An’ all without upsettin’ our lady folks.”

  “Oh no, we’re not upset atall!” cried Lenta, hysterically.

  “No one woulda guessed it,” said Jud, approvingly, as he moved away. “Thunder an’ blazes! Smell my burnin’ biscuits!”

  “Well, I’m glad that’s over,” declared Lindsay, feeli
ngly. “Our first experience with the enemy, girls…. Nelson, come help me down.”

  “It might have been bad, Lindsay,” replied Nelson, as he complied. “But even if it had it’d only been an incident of range life. I’m shore pleased at the way yu-all took it…. There yu air on yure feet. Walk about a bit, sir.”

  Harriet felt further repulsion toward this strange, soft-voiced man, yet could not resist the desire to confront him.

  “Only an incident of range life?” she asked, endeavoring to be flippant.

  “Thet’s all, Miss Hallie.”

  “I may be a tenderfoot, but I’m not without sense. Have not you and Arlidge clashed before?”

  “Wal, I reckon.”

  “Bad blood between you?”

  “There is some, now yu tax me about it.”

  “He appeared stunned upon recognizing you. He went white in the face. He was a man possessed of devils.”

  “I reckon Luke did feel riled. Wal, don’t worry, Miss Hallie. His bark is wuss than his bite.”

  Jud sang out: “Somebody spread a tarp to eat on an’ pile on some wood so we can see.”

  Lonesome appeared to help Lenta out of the burdensome slicker.

  “I sure was sorry I had to be so rude before you girls,” he said, gallantly. “But that Slim Red fellar was too windy.”

  “Lonesome, I could have shrieked when you slugged him,” cried Lenta, ecstatically.

  “Dog-gone!” murmured Lonesome, astounded at this amazing speech. Even Harriet could not reprove her young and impulsive sister. Things were happening, multiplying. The rain had ceased. A few white stars shone through a rift in swiftly moving clouds. The air had grown lighter and colder.

  Fragrance of fried ham, hot coffee, and bread acquainted Harriet with the meaning of one of her queer sensations. She had never felt half starved before. It also acquainted her with the fact that the rest of the Lindsays were in the same condition. Lame and stiff, still wet and bedraggled, they flopped down round the tarpaulin with a heartiness that was a crowning surprise of the day. They had been crushed by disappointment, overcome with fatigue and cold, frightened by the rude visitors. Yet they could eat.

  Laramie Nelson loomed out of the shades to gaze down on them with his penetrating eye.

  “Wal, yu see how good a fire is when yu’re froze an’ grub when yu’re hungry,” he drawled. “I reckon none of yu ever knowed before.”

  “Nelson, there’s something in what you say,” replied Lindsay.

  “Ahuh. Yu’re shore a turrible sick man—the way yu’re pitchin’ into Jud’s grub,” returned Nelson, humorously. “But the best after this killin’ ride will be when yu stretch out in warm soft blankets with a hot stone at yore feet. The boys air spreadin’ yore beds now. Miss Hallie, I’m advisin’ yu girls to sleep three in a bed. Leastways we’re makin’ only one bed for yu. I reckon Miss Lenta, bein’ the kid of the family, should have the middle. But we’ll fix bags an’ things all about so the bugs, rats, mice, bats, snakes, centipedes, tarantulas an’ such cain’t find yu. Ha! Ha!”

  “Oh, mercy!” cried Lenta. “Once in my life I accept being the kid of this family. I’ll sleep between Flo and Hallie.”

  “Mr. Nelson, why not tell us the very worst, so we can die promptly?” said Mrs. Lindsay, resignedly.

  “You can’t—faze me—Nelson,” retorted Lindsay, his mouth full of victuals.

  “Boss, I knowed yu was a real pioneer at heart. What I come particular to tell yu is this. I’ve found three dry storerooms at the gate end of the house. Two of ’em full of wood. Wal, we’ll move that wood an’ clean ’em out an’ pack the supplies from the wagons in there temporary. Then I’ll send five or six of the wagons back for the rest of our loads, an’ more lumber. We want glass, putty, paint, an’ a lot of things we forgot. It’d be better to pay cash, for when yu run up accounts these storekeepers charge more. Besides, after this we’ll do our buyin’ at La Junta, which’s only half as far. I reckon thet’s about all. I’ll call around later.”

  When Nelson had gone, the head of the family remarked: “Buffalo Jones vowed I’d find this Nelson fellow a veritable mountain of strength. I’ve begun to believe it.”

  “Dad, I knew that the instant I clapped eyes on him,” observed Neale, with a superior air.

  “He’s the most wonderful man I ever met in my whole life,” declared Lenta.

  Harriet felt it would be justice to add her little to the encomiums being distributed, but somehow she could not. Nelson inhibited her, alienated her. To be sure, besides being a fighting-man—which antagonized her—he must be a jack-of-all-trades. For that matter all these Westerners appeared to be singularly efficient when it came to necessary physical things. Harriet had observing eyes, and she gave due credit. She would not have admitted just then that the trait she approved of most in Nelson was his thoughtful economy on behalf of her father.

  The girls ate prodigiously, but did not remain long away from the fire. “Hallie, let’s toast ourselves brown and then run to our triple bed,” suggested Lenta.

  “Where is it?” queried Hallie.

  “Must be on the other side.”

  Just then Lonesome came ambling along from across the court.

  “Clearin’ off fine an’ cold, gurls,” he said, cheerily.

  “Where’s our boudoir?” asked Lenta.

  “Say, was that somethin’ we packed at Garden City?” he asked, scratching his head.

  “I mean our bed,” replied Lenta, with a giggle.

  “Right across there. We built a fire in front. An’ we wrapped hot rocks in clean burlap sacks, so your dainty tootsies won’t get soiled. You’ll be as snug as three little bugs in a sheepskin rug. It’ll be rippin’ cold in the mornin’, though. Better sleep late, till the sun gets goin’.”

  “I won’t get up atall,” sallied Lenta, as the rider went on.

  “Let’s walk up and down,” suggested Florence, her eager dark eyes roaming everywhere, to linger on dark forms round Jud’s fire. Harriet calculated that Florence had a severe case. She had cases periodically, but never had her eyes shone with such an intent, hungry, uncertain light.

  “All right, let’s walk,” agreed Harriet. So arm in arm the three limped and dragged themselves across the court, found their bed most carefully made and protected, and went on to the dark gateway, beyond which they were afraid to venture. But Hallie said: “We’re three tenderfeet, all right. Suppose we were thrown upon our own resources?”

  “Ridiculous, Hallie!” ejaculated Flo.

  “It’d be great fun—if we could survive,” responded Lenta, dreamily.

  “For shame. Are you both going to be dependent upon men? Well I’m not,” declared Harriet, and to prove it she ventured boldly out into the darkness. Her sisters, not to be shamed or else too scared to stay alone, joined her and they walked out beyond the protection of the walls.

  A few stars were showing, by the light of which black clouds could be seen scudding across the sky. The air stung Harriet’s cheeks and ears; the wind swept by strong and pure, redolent of great spaces; somewhere off in the darkness there was a roar like the sound of trees in a storm. But for that bleak, black, stone house the place seemed empty, a vast windy hall of the night.

  “Let’s go back. We might bump into that Slim Red. Wasn’t he a devil?” said Lenta.

  “Listen,” replied Flo, nervously.

  Off at a distance short wild barks sounded. “Coyotes,” affirmed Hallie. “We’ve heard them every night. I almost like them.”

  “No. This was different. You know how a hound bays in the dead of night when death has come to some one?” whispered Florence. “It was a little like that—only infinitely more…. Oh! there!”

  Hallie’s ears were smote by a clear, cold, long-withdrawing mournful wail, like nothing she had ever heard. It curdled her blood.

  “That can’t be a dog. It’s a wild animal,” she whispered.

  “Sounded far away, thank goodness. Let’s sneak in like the tenderf
eet we are…. But oh, it’s strange and wonderful!”

  “What is? That mournful beast? Ughh!”

  “Just everything. But how glad I am my sisters are with me.”

  Lenta at rare intervals expressed a note of the child that still survived in her. They groped their way back to where the light shone from the gateway and went in. Mr. Lindsay was still up, talking and coughing, to his wife’s despair. He scarcely had time to answer the girls’ good-night. He seemed tremendously excited, which rather augmented the impression of frailty which clung to him.

  “If he goes into pneumonia!” whispered Lenta, her big eyes dark with fear. “What Doctor Hurd always fought against!”

  “Don’t say such things, Lent,” responded Florence, shudderingly. “It would be dreadful! … Way out here in this wilderness. After all we’ve given up!”

  “Girls, I really don’t understand how we ever got here,” said Harriet, solemnly. “But we are here—in the hands of God and these Westerners.”

  They crawled over the ramparts of bags which surrounded their bed, and with whispers and laughs and starts they removed their heavy buskins and stiff clothes. Harriet’s stockings were still wet, her feet still cold. Heroically she crawled under the blankets on her side and wearily stretched out, with the feeling that she would never move again. Suddenly her cold wet feet came in contact with something hot. Then she remembered.

  “Oh—heavenly!” she murmured.

  “Isn’t it just?” returned Lenta, snuggling close and lovingly. “Do you know, Hallie, I’m just finding you out. You’re a deep old darling. Isn’t she, Flo?”

  “Who’s a darling?” asked Florence, dreamily.

  “Well, I don’t mean that black-haired, gimlet-eyed Adonis,” burst out Lenta, giggling, and she gave Hallie a significant hug.

  “Shut up and go to sleep, Lent Lindsay,” rejoined Flo, languorously.

  “Sleep! Not for hours…. Oh, Hallie, hasn’t it been an adventure? I’m just daffy…. I like these Western fellows, Hallie. They can do things. They’re so easy, slow, cool, and somehow … I don’t trust that Lonesome. He’s just what that Slim Red called him. I was sorry for Slim. Didn’t he get an awful wollop in the tummy? It actually hurt me. Mr. Mulhall may be little, but he’s mighty. I’ll bet he’s a lot of things…. But Laramie—he’s the wonderful man! I could certainly love him.”