"All right, Betty," he said. "I'll follow your lead a little way, but be cautious, old girl, and don't tie up to any lying hunches." He slackened his hold on the bridle, and the mare started off eagerly. They climbed a hill, and presently Conrad was aware of a black ma.s.s before him. Putting out his hand he felt an adobe wall. The mare crowded close against it, and stopped. She had left the road, which took the hill at a long sloping angle from the foot of the rise, and had climbed straight up the steep incline. He felt his way around the corner, unfastened the door, and entered. An emphatic "Whew!" gave vent to his feeling of relief. The mare, close at his heels, snorted in response, and Curtis, smiling in the dark, threw his arm across her neck in fellowship and said, "Feels good, doesn't it, Betty B., to get out of that hurricane from h.e.l.l?"

By the light of a lantern he led the mare to the spring, stabling her afterward in one of the houses. "In the best society, Betty Brown," he explained, "it's not considered good form for horses to sleep in men's houses. But you deserve the best I can give you to-night, blest if you don't, old girl, and you shall have it, too." He gathered together, for her food and her bed, the alfalfa hay from several of the bunks, and found for her also a small measure of oats. Then, having attended to her wants, he looked about for something to stay his own hunger.

It was his custom to keep some canned provisions in the place, as the station was much used by his men. On a little smouldering fire in one corner of the room, he made some tea in a tin can. A frying-pan hung against the wall, and in it, awkwardly fumbling with his one useful hand, he contrived to warm a stew of tinned _chile con carne_ and pilot bread. Fine sand drifted in and settled in a red dust over the food as he ate, and he could feel its grit between his teeth.

The bird he had carried in his bosom he found to be a Southwestern tanager. Its pinkish-red plumage shone with a silvery radiance in the lamplight. 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 it till it can shift for itself again, poor little devil!"

With intense satisfaction Conrad at last sat down to the letter in which he had all day been longing to express his feelings. "I wonder," he thought, "if Dellmey Baxter did it because he don't like the things I say about him. Well, he'll have to get used to it, then, for I'm not going 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 down contemptuously; "I sure reckon he won't be so anxious for me to turn up my toes with my boots on after he reads that."

The pain in Conrad's arm and shoulder had become so keen that he could not sleep. He lay in his bunk listening to the rattling of the door and the rage of the wind against the house, seeking to keep his mind from the stabbing pain long enough to sink into unconsciousness. But no sooner did his eyelids begin to close down heavily than a fresh throb made him start up again wide awake. This irritated him more than did the other suffering, and finally he jumped up angrily, found a copy of Lecky's "History of European Morals," and, with the muttered comment, "This is about what I need to-night," settled himself on an empty cracker box and read the night away. Toward morning he became aware that the wind was abating, and a little later that less sand was drifting into his retreat.

Breakfast was eaten and Brown Betty cared for by lamplight and with the first dim rays of morning he set out once more upon the road. The bird was again in his bosom, and the cactus, wrapped in old newspapers, rested at the back of his saddle. The storm had pa.s.sed, but the air was still full of dust particles through which the sun shone, red and smoky.

Curtis knew that these would settle gradually with the pa.s.sing hours and the sky become as clear as usual. Already he could see the road for several rods in front of him, and that was all he needed to keep it flying under Brown Betty's feet.

At the ranch house Mrs. Peters told him that a man had been there looking for work and described his appearance. "Yes; he overtook us at Rock Springs, and I hired him," Conrad said. Then, remembering the account Andy Miller had given of his previous situation, he asked her if the man had said where he came from.

"No," she replied; "he didn't say where he'd been working; but he came from toward Golden."

The superintendent thought the discrepancy rather curious, but decided it was nothing more than a not unusual cowboy eccentricity of statement.

He resumed his journey with no misgivings, and mid-afternoon found him arguing with the physician at Golden that he might just as well start back to the round-up that same night.

CHAPTER XII

THE FIRST SHOT

Alexander Bancroft sat in his private room with Curtis Conrad's return checks before him. They were not many: one in favor of his brother at the University of Michigan, one for a mail order house in Chicago, a small one to a New York publishing concern,--and his eyes fell upon the name of Rutherford Jenkins and the amount,--five hundred dollars. He stared at the slip of paper for a moment, conviction rushing to his mind that his pursuer knew the truth; then he took his revolver from his pocket and examined its chambers. "I may have to do him up myself!" he thought, his lips tightening. But sudden hesitation gripped his heart.

Until within a few weeks he had considered Curtis one of his best friends, had liked the young cattleman whole-heartedly, admiring and enjoying his impulsiveness, his geniality, his ardent loyalty to his friends, and his equally ardent hostility to those he disliked. Now the good-fellowship he had been accustomed to feel stopped his hand. "Can it be possible," he asked himself for the hundredth time, "that this eager-hearted, companionable fellow will really carry out his deadly purpose?" He recalled the intensity with which Conrad had spoken of his long quest for revenge, his vehemence toward his enemies, his impetuosity. Again conviction grew strong upon him that, when the man knew, the end would come. The frontier code by which he had lived so long 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 glanced down 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 down the weapon. There was a knock at the door, and he made sudden pretence of close attention to the papers before him. The door partly opened and he heard Conrad's voice outside. Surety of imminent peril seized Bancroft's mind. The instinct of self-defence sent his hand to his revolver, and he sprang up, pulling the trigger. Curtis rushed in at the report, calling out, "What's the matter, Aleck?" The banker had just time to stay his finger at sight of the friendly face and solicitous manner.

"I didn't hurt you, did I, Curt?" he asked anxiously, sinking back in his 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 the ceiling. "I was looking my revolver over when you knocked," Bancroft explained, "and had just been aiming at that spot on the wall. My finger must 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 the cattleman was as friendly as ever and that therefore his secret was still safe, he felt genuinely thankful that his bullet had gone wild.

Conrad told of his fight with Jose Gonzalez. "You're getting the truth about it, Aleck," he went on; "but to everybody else I'm saying that I got horned by a steer, knocked over, and my collar bone cracked. I'm convinced it's some of Dell Baxter's work. I reckon I've been saying out loud just what he is too often to please him. But the letter I've sent him will buffalo him quick enough. Jose's a good cowboy, and I'm going to keep him. But I don't want the boys to know anything about our little sc.r.a.p. 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--it must have been Castleton money, to be handled for Johnny Martinez.

Perhaps security might still be compa.s.sed without bloodshed. In thankfulness that he had not killed the man who was still his friend he revolted against the purpose of the Mexican, to which he knew in his soul he had given tacit consent. He did not want this cordial, confiding, good fellow struck down--if his own safety could be otherwise secured.

"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 superintendent responded cheerfully, "he'll never do anybody else any harm. Anyway, I've settled him for the present; I busted his knife and threw the pieces 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't expect any more trouble from Jose."

Bancroft made no reply and Conrad went on: "By the way, Aleck, for a full minute yesterday I thought Baxter must be my man--the man I'm after, you know--Delafield. I've found out that he's somebody rich and respectable here in New Mexico, and when I felt that Baxter must be responsible for this attack on me, I lit on him for my meat. But it was too good to be true; as soon as I thought it over I saw that Baxter couldn't be Delafield. But they're two of a kind all right. Both of 'em have got their freight loaded ready to pull out for h.e.l.l at the drop of a hat. Baxter will have to pull his in less than three jumps of a bucking horse if he doesn't call off his man. And Delafield will be pulling his mighty soon anyway."

Bancroft made a gesture of annoyance. "Curt, you talk too easily about killing. 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't you come to your senses, and see what an a.s.s you'll be making of yourself if you try to carry out this fool scheme of revenge that's got hold of you? Why don't you accept his offer to pay back the money as fast as he can? Let him make rest.i.tution, and keep a whole skin; perhaps you'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 talk as if giving up that plan would be no more than changing my coat! You don't know, Aleck--why, to get the drop on Delafield and hold him while I 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 thing I've lived for all these fifteen years! I'm obliged to you for your advice, Aleck; but I know what I'm about."

Bancroft shrank away a little as Curtis talked. His lips tightened as he picked up the revolver and sighted it at a calendar on the wall. After a moment'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 are doing--and you seem to feel sure he does--he'll be prepared for your attack, and you're not likely to have things your own way. Unless he's a fool or a coward he'll defend himself, even if he has to kill you doing it. And if he has any _sabe_ at all he'll be loaded for you when you get there, and have the drop on you before you can say a word."

"Chances of war," Conrad replied serenely. "He's welcome to all he can get. But I'm betting my last dollar, and my scalp in the bargain, that he can't draw as quick as I can, nor shoot as straight. You bet your life, Aleck, when that circus comes off I'll be the star performer."

"Well," said Bancroft slowly, "if you won't listen to reason I suppose you'll have to go on, h.e.l.l-bent, in the gait you've struck--and take the consequences. But you're a fool to do it, and I hate to see you making such a blind a.s.s of yourself."

Curtis laughed, undisturbed. "That's all right, Aleck. I don't expect you to get the joy out of this business that I shall."

He went over to Bancroft's desk and picked up the revolver, examining its sights. "They're not right, Aleck," he said. "When I get the use of my arm again I'll fix them for you. And you don't use your gun right when you want to take quick aim: you don't swing it up quickly and steadily, as if you were used to it. You ought to practise, Aleck. Out here a man never knows when he may have to defend himself. I've got to stay here several days, the doctor says; and while I'm here I'll show you a few tricks."

"All right, if you like," Bancroft replied, adding, as he pocketed his revolver, "I'm not a very good shot and, as you say, out here a man never knows when he may have to defend himself."

Conrad, turning to go, lingered awkwardly. "By the way, Aleck," he blurted out, "it has occurred to me that perhaps you are getting tied up with Dell Baxter too tight for comfort. I don't want to seem curious about your affairs, you know, and I haven't got any big pile--you know what 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 thought of 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 the offer, and I appreciate it. But I don't need anything. Baxter and I are in partnership in a number of enterprises, but it's all straight sailing."

"That's good, and I'm glad to hear it. I was afraid he'd got you under his thumb. But remember, Aleck, that my small pile is at your disposal any time it will be of use to you."

As the young man left the bank he saw Lucy Bancroft turn the corner toward the Mexican quarter and was quickly at her side, relieving her of the little bundle she carried. She was going to Senora Melgares, she explained, who could wash laces and embroideries and all kinds of dainty things beautifully with _amole_ root. She was taking her some of Miss Dent's and her own fineries, and hoped to get her a great deal of work from others. "The poor thing!" said Lucy earnestly, her eyes wide and soft with sympathy. "She is so heartbroken over the affair! You've heard? Mr. Gaines died the other day, and Melgares has been indicted for murder. My father says he'll surely be found guilty and will probably be hanged. The poor senora!"

When they reached the little adobe house Lucy asked Curtis to go in with her, saying, "I'm not very sure of my Spanish, and I'd be glad to have you come in and help me out." They found Senora Melgares sitting with her head buried in her arms, her hair dishevelled, and her face, when she raised it, eloquent of grief and despair. But she greeted them with grave and gracious courtesy. Lucy impulsively took her hand and held it in both her own while she presented Senor Conrad. At the name the woman drew her slight figure together with a convulsive movement, her dark face 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 finishing the query. Conrad bowed again. The woman sank down in her chair, her face in her hands, swaying back and forth as she moaned and sobbed. Lucy knelt by her side to comfort her, while Curtis bent over the girlish figure and spoke in a low, changed tone that the girl barely recognized, so different was it from his usual brisk utterance. It set her nerves vibrating in quick, half-conscious conviction of a depth and quality of feeling in harmony with her own.

"I am afraid I made a mistake by coming in, Miss Bancroft," he said. "It did not occur to me that she would connect me with her husband's trouble. Won't you please tell her, when she is quieter, that I am very sorry about the whole affair, that I have no feeling against him, and that 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 call me."