Читать книгу Mason of Bar X Ranch - Bennett Henry Holcomb - Страница 5

A quiver ran through the form of the man on the ground. After two vain attempts, he rose slowly to his feet, his face contorted with rage.

Unobserved, the halfbreed had edged up close to the circle formed by the men and drawing his gun, fired point blank at Mason, who fell to the ground with a low moan. The assassin, not waiting to see the effect of his shot, sprang with a bound into the saddle of the nearest horse. Sinking his spurs deep into the animal’s flank he was away before anyone thought to stop him. It all happened so quickly the men stood dazed.

Bud was the first to rouse them to action. Emptying his gun after the fugitive he called out sharp orders to the men.

There was a scramble for horses as the cowboys responded. A cry of dismay went up from the men when it was discovered that the halfbreed had taken the fastest horse of the lot, Josephine’s famous Fleet.

As Mason fell, the girl had rushed to his side and partly caught him in her arms.

She was supporting his head and trying to stop the flow of blood that trickled from a wound in his right temple. The girl was deathly pale and watched the stricken man anxiously, as with tender care she loosened his shirt at the front. Bud’s face was set tense as he bent over and examined the wound.

“Bullet just creased him,” he announced briefly, his face lighting up. “He will be all right in an hour or two.”

Josephine’s heart leaped at the words. She had a deep admiration for this Easterner who had come among them to fight life’s battle anew. She shuddered as she realized how close the bullet had struck. Then a wave of reaction seized her and she trembled violently.

Bud had noticed her agitation and said kindly,

“Come, girl, this is no place for you. I will take you to the house.”

On his return, Mason had partly recovered and was talking with the ranch owner, who had bound up his wound. Mason smiled feebly as Bud came up to them.

“Fool stunt of mine to topple over the way I did,” he said, feeling of the bandage gingerly.

“Not so,” Bud protested quickly, while admiring the other’s iron nerve. “That was a close call you had, son. Lucky for you the halfbreed’s aim was bad.”

“I seem to get in bad all around,” Mason answered ruefully.

“The ranch owner tells me that Powers has cleared out, too,” he added.

“Glad of it,” Bud growled, “hope my men run that greaser down, but they ain’t got much of a chance, with him on Josephine’s horse.”

Late that night the men came trooping in. They had been thrown off the trail when darkness set in, but all vowed they would get the halfbreed if it took them all summer. They were overjoyed when told that Mason would be all right in a day or two. He had won them all by his exhibition of strength and nerve, and they would fight for him to the last man. Bud questioned the cowboys about their hunt for the halfbreed, and Buck Miller, acting as spokesman, gave his opinion that when they lost the halfbreed’s trail he was making for Devil’s Gap and would circle back to the Ricker ranch.

“We’ll pay Mr. Ricker a visit,” Bud said grimly, his gray eyes flashing.

“This is the halfbreed’s revenge for your knocking him down that day at Trader’s Post, Jack,” he added.

The following day as the cowboys were starting out to track the halfbreed down, Scotty, who had made an early trip to the Post, thrust a letter in Mason’s hand. It was from his father, and hastily tearing it open he read the contents.

The letter read:

My dear Son:

In reply to your letter I will say that I am greatly concerned about you after reading its contents, and believe you to be in great danger. In brief, this man Ricker you mention in your letter was an old schoolmate of mine. In my early days I was engaged in the lumber business and took Ricker in as my bookkeeper. I had always believed him to be honest, until one day I happened to be looking over the books and discovered evidence that false entries had been made. I had other clerks in my employee and they all came under my suspicion. I then hired a detective and had them watched. The thefts in money ran into the thousands and were traced directly to Ricker. He was a married man and the detective found that he had been spending money lavishly and far beyond his means. I had the matter hushed up as his wife was sickly, and instead of pressing the charge against him, I discharged him from my employ.

The shock of his exposure killed his wife, and he became morbid and several times threatened my life. He finally disappeared after warning me in a letter that in the future he would live only for revenge on me. It has been ten years since I last heard of him, and I had hoped that he was dead.

My son, be on your guard as I believe Ricker will try to strike me through you.

The best news I can send is that your mother and sister are making preparations to visit you soon.

I hear good news of you from Mr. Walters and I’m proud of you, my son.

Your father,

John Mason

Mason glanced up from his letter to find MacNutt regarding him with a curious expression in his eyes.

The strange man had taken a great liking to Mason, and the latter found himself in his company a good bit of his time. Mason had come to think that MacNutt wasn’t such a fool as most people seemed to take him for.

The leaders of the searching party were far in advance by this time and, as Mason intended to take part in the hunt, he pocketed his letter and called to MacNutt and Scotty. As they rode he explained the letter to them in detail.

“You have got to get this Ricker or he’ll get you,” Scotty said, after a long silence.

“But I haven’t even seen the man yet,” Mason protested.

“I heard Bud say this morning that we are going to call on that delightful gentleman,” MacNutt chirped up.

Scotty favored him with a warning scowl.

“You’ll have a chance to see him to-day, but I’m going to watch him sharp for he’s the quickest man in these parts with a gun,” Scotty declared, still keeping his eyes on MacNutt and frowning darkly.

The latter, not one bit abashed, was whistling gaily, and opened his eyes in child-like wonder at Scotty’s words. The cowboy mentally put him down as cracked. There was a stiff wind blowing and the sky was overcast with ominous looking clouds. The cowboy was casting an anxious eye on the horizon.

“We are going to get a hard storm before night,” he said uneasily.

“Do you get very hard storms in these parts?” queried MacNutt timidly.

“Well, rather,” drawled Scotty with a grin.

They were riding fast now, and had begun to overtake the party in front.

“Wo don’t want to be too far in the rear when they get to the ranch,” the Scot explained, as he urged his horse faster.

The rest of the ride was made in silence, Mason turning over in his mind the news from his father.

Soon they were approaching the outbuildings of the ranch, and Mason’s blood tingled as he remembered his first experience on this ranch. The cowboys ahead had halted and were waiting for Mason and his party to come up.

“I am going right up and call Ricker out,” Bud said as they came within hearing distance, “and don’t none of you men pull a gun unless you see Ricker start to draw.” The men agreed, but there were sullen mutterings among them, and there was a doubt in Mason’s mind whether they would control themselves if the halfbreed showed himself.

Bud and the ranch owner with Scotty and Red Sullivan rode up to the house and knocked.

“What’s wanted?” a gruff voice called from within.

“I want to talk with you, Ricker,” Bud answered, recognizing the owner of the voice.

“Does it take a small army to come here and talk to me?” the same voice said with a snarl.

The door was flung violently open, and Ricker stood in the doorway with his arms folded across a brawny chest. There was a sarcastic smile on the man’s face as he sneered at Bud.

“Never mind the army,” Bud answered curtly, his eyes keenly watching for any move the other might make.

“I’m here to find out if that halfbreed Mexican you used to have working for you has showed up here in the last twenty-four hours.”

“How should I know anything about the greaser?” Ricker questioned with an oath. “Your employer hired him to work for the Bar X, didn’t he?”

“Yes, and a precious rascal he was,” the ranch owner replied bitterly.

“He shot at my guest, Mr. Mason here, and stole my daughter’s favorite horse. He’s a man after your own heart, Ricker.”

Ricker shot a hard look at Mason when the ranch owner mentioned his name. Bud was growing impatient.

“You haven’t answered my question, Ricker,” he said in an even voice.

“No, and I’ll be damned if I will,” the man burst out in sudden fury, “and I don’t want any damn sheriff nosing around my place.”

As he spoke, five men from within silently took their places alongside of him.

The lines on Bud’s face tightened. There was a stir among his men and a stiffening of muscles. It seemed to Mason as if the air was suddenly charged with electricity, so tense was the situation.

“I’m watching you, Ricker!” the word came from Bud like a crack of a pistol. “I see that you and your men are itching for a fight. Steady! Take your hand away from your hip, Ricker, or I’ll bore you!”

Bud sat his horse facing Ricker. Both his hands were carelessly toying with his scarf knot, about breast high where the butt of a six-shooter protruded. It was a position feared by all his enemies.

Ricker laughed mirthlessly.

“Oh, well,” he said in a changed tone, “take a look around, but you won’t find the greaser here.”

Mason breathed a sigh of relief. The danger point seemed past for the moment. Bud left half of his men on guard in front of the house and made a careful search of the premises, but found no trace of the halfbreed.

“I suppose you are satisfied now,” Ricker sneered, as Bud gave the command for his men to leave.

“No, I’m not satisfied,” Bud answered him sharply. “I am certain the Mexican has visited you since yesterday. My men trailed him to Devil’s Gap and he was swinging in a circle towards your place when they lost his trail. That’s all I’ve got to say, but you’ll hear from me again.”

Bud gave a signal and the cowboys set a fast pace for home as the storm showed signs of breaking on them at any moment. Mason rode with Bud, and they kept up a conversation with difficulty amid flashes of lightning and the crash of thunder.

“Gee, this is some storm,” gasped Mason after an unusually bright flash of lightning, followed by a deluge of rain.

“Yes,” Bud roared in his ear to make himself heard, “we get them like this out here, but what I am sore about is that we didn’t get that greaser.”

Mason started to answer, but his words were drowned by the thunder. When the party finally arrived at the Bar X corral it was dark and lights were flashing in and out of the ranch house.

“Something must be wrong at the house,” Bud muttered as they hastily put their horses up.

As Bud and Mason started for the house, some one came towards them with a lantern. It proved to be Mrs. Walters, and she seemed to be in great distress.

“Oh, I am so frightened,” she cried, as she caught sight of them. “Josephine has disappeared. She went for a ride soon after you men left, and here it is nine o’clock and she hasn’t returned. I fear something has happened to her.”

Mason was shocked to think of Josephine out alone and in the storm.

“For God’s sake, Bud,” he cried in anguish, “get the men together and let’s find her.”

Bud blew a whistle and the cowboys rallied around him.

“Boys,” he said sternly, “there’s been hellish doings on this ranch lately. Josephine has disappeared and it’s up to us to find her. I lay this to that halfbreed’s work. Mount your horses and take lanterns along with you and see if you can’t pick up her trail before the rain washes all traces of it away.”

The cowboys obeyed with alacrity and muttered deep threats against the halfbreed. It would fare hard with him if he fell into their hands this night; his punishment would be swift and sure.

Mrs. Walters gave the men the direction that Josephine had taken and they started off with a rush.

Buck Miller was leading the way as he was the best trailer among them. He could follow a trail equal to an Indian. Aided by an occasional flash of lightning, the men picked their way slowly. The rain had ceased, but the wind was blowing almost a gale.

Buck had picked up Josephine’s trail about a hundred yards from the corral. After following it for about an hour they found it led towards Devil’s Gap, a favorite ride of Josephine’s when she wished to be alone. According to her mother, the girl had taken a horse from the corral that had been used as a pack horse to bring provisions from Trader’s Post.

The ranch owner had insisted on joining them in the search, and it seemed to Mason as if he had grown years older in the last hour. His manner was pitiful as the shock of his daughter’s possible fate showed in his eyes. The trail was very difficult to follow on account of the hard fall of rain. The men were proceeding with caution for fear of losing it altogether.

In this manner they rode for two hours when there came a cry from Buck who was far in advance of them. There was an answering yell from the cowboys as they pressed their horses hard and rode up to him.

“Buck, what have you discovered?” Mason demanded anxiously.

Buck motioned for them to keep back before he answered. He had dismounted and was eagerly scanning the ground. Bud joined them at this juncture and repeated Mason’s question. Buck for an answer held up a piece of cloth.

“Other horses’ tracks join here,” he said sagely, pointing to the ground. “The girl was held up here, for there is evidence of a struggle.”

Bud examined the piece of cloth and handed it to the ranch owner.

“It’s from Josephine’s dress,” the unhappy father declared with a groan.

“The girl put up a fight here,” Buck continued, “and it looks as if there were two or more persons that waylaid her.”

The ranch owner was nearly frantic and it was with difficulty that the men restrained him from plunging blindly alone on the trail.

“Keep cool,” Bud advised him. “Buck tells me the trail divides here. They have one lead horse and one carrying double. I am going to send one of my men home with you as you are in no condition to go on. Besides, your wife needs your counsel just now. I am going to divide my forces and we will stay on the trail night and day until we find her, then God help them if they have harmed her in any way.”

Bud choked at the last sentence, his emotions overcoming him. After a short argument with the heartbroken father, Bud’s advice prevailed and the party set out on their quest.