Читать книгу Buffalo Bill, Peacemaker; Or, On a Troublesome Trail - Ingraham Prentiss - Страница 8

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The coming of Jordan was another surprise to the scout. When he, and Dunbar, and the scout, and Nomad, and Wild Bill were gathered in the living room of the ranch house, with Little Cayuse on guard over the live stock at the corral, a council was held.

Hickok told of the watch-throwing contest in Hackamore, of the scrap of paper, its message, and how he, Nomad and Cayuse had happened to ride to Perry’s on their way to Phelps’ ranch. The “come-alongs” also came up for discussion.

“These may come handy, pards,” remarked the king of scouts significantly, looking the handcuffs over and then dropping them into his own pocket.

“Take this, too,” said Wild Bill, “unless you want to call in a blacksmith to get them off of whoever you put them on.”

He passed over a key, which went into the scout’s pocket along with the manacles.

Then Buffalo Bill told how he had dropped in on Red Steve and Nate Dunbar at the dugout, and of the ride to the ranch house.

“There’s no use waiting here any longer for Perry,” the scout finished. “From the information you bring, Wild Bill, it seems certain that Perry is in the hands of the cattle barons, and is being held at Phelps’ place.”

“Ther onnery cattle dealers tried ter make a clean sweep,” put in Nomad. “They captered Dunbar, Perry an’ the gal. Through a piece o’ luck thet was some wonderful, ye managed ter help Dunbar. He’s at large, but the gal an’ her father aire still in the hands o’ ther enemy.”

“I’m terribly worried about Hattie and Dick,” said Jordan. “They’re fine people, and I’ve feared for a long while that something like this would happen. Benner is a man who believes that might makes right. He’s all-powerful on the Brazos, backed up as he is by Phelps and the other cattle barons. He can be as lawless as he pleases, and what law there is in this country will never touch him. The situation, gentlemen, is a sad commentary on our free institutions.”

“I reckon, pards,” observed Wild Bill, “that the girl is also at Phelps’.”

The scout nodded.

“That it seems to me,” he answered, “is where she would be taken. Both prisoners, I think, would be kept in the same place.”

“But,” went on Wild Bill, “these barons realize that they’re playing a risky game. Phelps understands that, anyhow, for he said so in that scrap of writing which Benner had in his watch.”

The scout knotted his forehead over a detail of the situation which he could not fathom.

“Why,” he queried, “should Phelps write that note and hand it to Benner? They were together in Hackamore. Why did Phelps put such stuff on paper when he could have told it to Benner?”

“It was private business, Buffalo Bill,” suggested the sky pilot dryly, “so private that the barons did not dare speak about it in Hackamore.”

“Granted. The explanation is a little far-fetched, friend Jordan, but we’ll let it go. But why was Benner keeping the paper in his watch? One reading would have been enough for him, it seems to me. After getting the gist of the paper talk, it would have been safer for Benner to do with it what Wild Bill did afterwards—tear it up.”

“There’s no accounting for what those cattle barons do,” said the sky pilot, shaking his head. “They have suddenly become so prosperous that their heads are turned. ‘The love of gold is the root of all evil,’ my friends. Much wealth has a deplorable effect on the majority of us.”

“There’s a little evil, I reckon, parson,” returned the Laramie man, “that gold hasn’t much to do with. For instance, there’s no glittering wealth back of the barons’ persecution of the Perrys.”

“It’s the riches of which Benner has suddenly become possessed,” insisted the sky pilot, “that leads him into all these excesses. Too much money has turned his brain. What man, of Benner’s professed standing in this community, would allow himself to make war on the Perrys as he has done?”

Nate Dunbar muttered savagely under his breath.

“There’s just one thing to do,” he averred, with a snap of his jaws and a savage glimmer in his eyes.

“What’s thet?” asked the trapper.

“Lay for Benner!” said Dunbar, through his teeth. “Hang out in the brush and put a bullet where it will do the country the most good!”

Jordan leaned over and dropped a gentle hand on the cowboy’s shoulder.

“My friend,” he murmured, “those words are not from your heart. I know you too well. You’re not the sort of fellow to skulk in the brush like a rattlesnake and strike at the man who comes along. Why, Nate, even a rattlesnake gives warning. No, no. Face this manfully, and in the open. Such injustice cannot thrive. Take my word for it, it will not succeed.”

“Amigo,” answered Dunbar. “I think a heap of you; we all do, at this ranch. But hasn’t injustice thrived here for months? What’s happened to Perry’s cattle? Might has made right for a long time. I’m getting tired waiting for a change.”

“It is a long lane that has no turning, Nate,” said the sky pilot with an encouraging smile, “and I have a feeling that this lane is close to that point. Providence has been kind to you and to the Perrys. Can’t you see the hand of Providence in what happened at Red Steve’s? Buffalo Bill was brought to your rescue, even as Wild Bill and old Nomad discovered things in Hackamore that brought them to the aid of Perry and Hattie. These,” the sky pilot indicated the scout and his pards with a gesture, “are stanch friends—men renowned for their deeds—against whom the cattle barons cannot prevail. Trust the future, man! Give Buffalo Bill and his friends your full confidence, and then abide by the result.”

Dunbar was heartened not a little by the sky pilot’s words.

“I’m willin’ to do anything a man can do,” said he. “I’m only human, parson, and it grinds me something terrible to see the Perrys treated as they have been. There are only four in Buffalo Bill’s party—six with you and me—and you know how many punchers Benner and Phelps can muster. That’s what makes the thing look hopeless.”

“The race is not always to the swift, Nate, nor the battle to the strong.”

“Well, parson, I always pin my faith on a horse that can go, and put my confidence in the outfit that has the biggest number.”

“Which is wrong, Nate. Intellect counts most in this world. It’s the thinkers who take victory from mere numbers and brute force.”

“And that’s over my head, parson. Not but that I believe in Buffalo Bill—only I want to be shown that things will come our way, and I want to be shown quick.”

“We’ll begin showing you to-morrow,” said the scout.

“How?” asked Dunbar.

“In the early morning I will ride to Phelps’ ranch and talk with——”

“Talking won’t do any good.”

“This talking will,” was the calm response.

“’Specially,” grinned the old trapper, “when Buffler backs up his palaverin’ in his customary way.”

The sky pilot turned on the scout.

“Do you really intend, Buffalo Bill,” he asked, “to visit Phelps’ ranch alone?”

“Yes.”

“Will it be safe for you to do so?”

A flicker of smiles ran around the faces of the pards.

“I think it will be safe, Brother Jordan,” answered the scout gravely. “It is not my habit to tangle up with a situation I don’t think I can handle.”

“But, by now, Red Steve will have carried word to the cattle barons that you set Dunbar at liberty. Phelps and Benner will be down on you just as they are on Wild Bill and Nomad.”

“Even at that,” laughed the scout, “I’ll warrant that they will not be unduly discourteous.”

“Supposing,” interjected Dunbar, “that you don’t get to Phelps’ ranch until after Benner comes and takes Perry away?”

“I think I shall get there before them; but, if not, then I will go to Benner’s.”

“Take the rest of us with you!” begged the sky pilot.

“I’ll take you with me,” said the scout, “but you must remain at a distance. A show of force, at this stage of the game, is out of the question. A little tact is what we need now more than anything else. If we all rode to Phelps’ place in a crowd there would be war immediately; but the barons won’t think they have much to fear if I go there alone.”

“Which is ther same as sayin’,” guffawed Nomad, “thet Buffler’s plannin’ ter take ther cattle barons off’n their guard. He kin do it, too.”

The scout got up.

“Now that we have settled what we are to do,” said he, “we’d better all turn in and get a little sleep. Nick, you go to the corral and bunk down with Cayuse. The rest of us will find quarters in the house.”

It was with delightful anticipations for the following day that old Nomad shuffled off to the corral. To Little Cayuse he recounted the various phases of the problem that confronted the pards, and expanded glowingly upon the warm work that lay ahead.

“Things aire goin’ ter be red-hot on ther Brazos, kid,” declared Nomad. “How you like um, huh?”

“Like um buenos,” replied the little Piute. “Pa-e-has-ka heap big chief. Where he go, me trail along. Cattle barons muy malo; Pa-e-has-ka get um on the run. Ugh!”