Читать книгу Buffalo Bill, Peacemaker; Or, On a Troublesome Trail - Ingraham Prentiss - Страница 7

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The clerk at the Delmonico Hotel, as the shanty hostelry was called, made a mistake while Wild Bill, Nomad and Cayuse were at supper with the sky pilot. A man came in with a small package wrapped in a piece of newspaper.

“Charlie,” said the man to the clerk, “tuck this here package away in Lige Benner’s saddlebags.”

Charlie was shaking dice over the board counter with a cowboy. The clerk was trying to find out whether he’d give the cowboy a cigar for nothing or make him pay double for it.

“All right, neighbor,” said the preoccupied Charlie, turning from the counter with the package in one hand and the dice box in the other.

There were half a dozen pairs of saddlebags hanging from nails on the wall. Charlie was the custodian of those bags, and was supposed to know to whom each pair belonged.

He dropped the package under a flap of one of the bags and then turned and went on with his gambling.

Benner, Phelps and one or two more cattlemen came out of the dining room a few minutes later, closely followed by Wild Bill, Nomad, Cayuse and the sky pilot.

“Oh, Lige,” called the clerk, “there was a feller in here, a spell ago, with a package done up in a piece o’ newspaper. He said it was ter go in yore saddlebags, so I slipped it in.”

“Much obliged, Charlie,” answered Benner.

It was casual talk, and was overheard casually by the pards and the parson.

An hour later, when Nomad, Wild Bill, Cayuse and Jordan were riding at a leisurely clip for the Brazos, keeping a sharp lookout for hostile cowboys, the Laramie man reached into his warbag for a pouch of tobacco. His groping hand encountered something which he could not remember having placed in the bag.

“Thunder!” he exclaimed, drawing his horse to a halt.

“What’s up, pard?” asked Nomad, as he and the others likewise halted.

“I don’t know what’s up,” answered Wild Bill. “Lean over, Nick, and get a firestick to going. Have I got my own warbags, or somebody else’s?”

The trapper struck a light and held it over the battered leather receptacles which always traveled with Hickok whenever he rode.

“They’re yoren, Hickok,” declared Nomad. “Ye could pick out them bags from a thousand.”

“The bags may be mine, Nick, but I’ll take oath this don’t belong to me.”

In the glow of the match Wild Bill presented the package for the others’ inspection.

“Ye didn’t put that in yer warbags, eh?”

“No. I never saw it before. Strike another match and let’s see what’s inside.”

Examination showed Wild Bill and his companions two pairs of steel bracelets. Everybody was staring and wondering.

“Now, how the blazes did those ‘come-alongs’ get into my gear?” demanded Wild Bill, completely at sea. “I never owned a pair of manacles in my life, and the only time I ever used any was when I was town marshal, up at Abilene. Even then I shied at the things. How did these get into my warbags? Parson, are you a mind reader?”

The sky pilot laughed.

“I don’t have to be a mind reader to settle that point, Mr. Hickok,” he answered. “Do you recall a brief conversation that passed between the clerk at the Delmonico Hotel and Lige Benner when we came out of the dining room, right after supper? The clerk called out to Benner that a man had brought a package wrapped in newspaper, and that the package had been put in Benner’s saddlebags. I shouldn’t wonder if the clerk had made a mistake in the bags. Instead of putting the package into Benner’s, Wild Bill, he put it into yours.”

“Pard Jordan,” chirped Nomad, “yore head is some level, an’ no mistake. Ye’ve called the turn. Pard Hickok has got sheriff’s property as was intended fer Benner.”

“Right-o!” declared Wild Bill, with a chuckle. “I’ve got some of Benner’s hardware, all right. The sheriff must be a friend of his, eh, Jordan?”

“That’s the pity of it, in this section,” the sky pilot answered. “The law winks at the lawlessness of the cattle barons, and that’s what makes the situation so hard for Perry. There is no doubt but that the sheriff sent those manacles to the hotel for Benner.”

“But whyever was it?” inquired Nomad. “Why ther blazes should Benner want come-alongs? Is he goin’ ter put ’em on Perry?”

“It’s likely that he needs them in his lawless work,” returned Jordan. “Those ugly things are only used on prisoners, and the only prisoners Benner may have to take care of are those at the Perry ranch. I argue evil things from the fact that there are two sets of gyves.”

“What’s the argument?” came from Wild Bill, as he put the handcuffs in his pocket, filled his pipe, lighted it and made ready to continue the ride.

“Why,” said Jordan, “one pair would be enough for Perry. The other pair may be for Nate Dunbar, Perry’s partner. I’m afraid we’re going to find affairs in something of a tangle at Perry’s ranch. Let’s hurry on.”

For more than two hours they hurried, the sky pilot sitting his horse with all the skill and ease of a professional range rider, and bearing the discomforts of the rapid journey in admirable style.

At the end of two hours the party was in the scant timber that fringed the Brazos, and had pointed upstream. Abruptly, the sky pilot drew rein.

“Friends,” said he, “half a mile ahead of us is Perry’s ranch. We don’t know the situation there, and I am sorely troubled as to what we shall find. Some of Benner’s cowboys may be in possession of the place, or lurking in the vicinity. I would suggest that one of us ride ahead and reconnoitre; and the one to do this, it seems to me, is Wild Bill.”

“Just as you say, parson,” answered Wild Bill.

“Nomad, Little Cayuse and I will wait here,” went on Jordan. “If everything is all right at the ranch, and you want us to come on, fire your revolver three times into the air. The sound will carry this far, and we’ll hear it and come. If there is anything wrong, return to us and we’ll try to decide what is best to be done. I am exceedingly apprehensive over this matter.”

Wild Bill thought that Jordan was letting his apprehensions carry him too far, and that there was no need for so much caution in approaching the ranch. However, all the pards were more than willing to please the sky pilot in such a small matter.

“I’m off, amigos,” announced Wild Bill.

His horse, Beeswax, answered to the touch of the spurs and bounded away through the timber.

Wild Bill halted when he came close to the ranch house, and swept his eyes carefully around the vicinity. He saw nothing to excite his suspicions. He could hear horses in the corral, and he could see a glow of lamplight coming from the windows of the cabin.

“The girl and Dunbar are in the house,” muttered the Laramie man, “and if they’re worried about Perry, the fact is not evident from this distance. I’ll slash along, just as though there weren’t any hostile barons on the Brazos. If any cowboys present themselves—well, they’ll make as good targets for me as Beeswax and I will make for them.”

He laughed softly and spurred onward. The door was open when he drew up before it, and a flood of lamplight poured through. A figure stood in the light—a figure that brought Wild Bill up rigidly in his saddle. His astonishment was intense.

“Well, by gorry!” he exclaimed. “Have I got the blind staggers? Pard Cody, is that you?”

“There’s no mistake, Wild Bill,” came back in the familiar tones of the king of scouts. “Get down and tell me what brings you here?”

Wild Bill got down and leaned against his saddle. He was dazed, and was trying to guess how fate had shuffled and dealt the cards in this amazing fashion.

“I can’t seem to pull myself together, Pard Cody,” said Wild Bill. “Did you drop in here to spend the night on your way from Texico?”

“I dropped into another place before I came here,” answered the scout; “and, if I hadn’t, I shouldn’t be here now.”

A cowboy pushed into the light and out through the door behind the scout.

“Who’s this, Buffalo Bill?” the cowboy asked.

“It’s my pard from Laramie, Wild Bill Hickok,” said the scout.

“From Hackamore?”

“That’s the last place he hailed from, I reckon.”

“How does he happen to be here?”

“That’s what I’m trying to get him to tell me. First, though, you fellows strike hands. Hickok, this amigo is Nate Dunbar. He has an interest in Perry’s cattle, and he’s all right.”

They shook hands.

“Now,” went on the scout, “give me the right of this, Pard Hickok. Why are you here?”

“I’m here to see how things stack up at this ranch,” said Hickok. “Something came my way in Hackamore that offered a chance for excitement while we were waiting for you to ride in from Texico.”

“You came alone?”

“Hardly.” Pulling his revolver, the Laramie man fired three quick shots into the air. “The rest will hear that,” he explained, “and come a-running. Meanwhile, as explanations will consume a little time, where’ll I put the caballo?”

“In the corral,” answered Dunbar. “I’ll take the bronk.”

Turning the horse over to the cowboy, Wild Bill walked into the cabin with the scout.

“This has been a night of surprises,” said Buffalo Bill, “and not the least of the surprises is this meeting with you. I’m glad you’re here, though. There’s a tangle at this ranch, and we’re to unravel it.”

“Buenos!” murmured Wild Bill, taking a chair; “maybe I can help in the unraveling more than you think.”

A clatter of approaching hoofs sounded. The scout started forward in his chair.

“Don’t be in a taking, pard,” counseled Wild Bill. “Nomad, Little Cayuse and the sky pilot are riding up. I left them back in the timber.”