Читать книгу Jesse James' Desperate Game; Or, The Robbery of the Ste. Genevieve Bank - William) Ward - Страница 5

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THE PLOT PROVES A BOOMERANG.

No greater consternation could have been caused among the witnesses to the accusation had a bomb exploded in their midst.

Aghast at the seriousness of the charge, the men and women fell back, glancing from the outlaws to Consollas. Then angry murmurs rose from their throats and several of the men stepped forward, menacingly, while from those at the rear of the crowd broke the cry:

"Horse thieves! Horse thieves!"

In a twinkling, the shout was taken up by those passing till it echoed from one end of the campground to the other.

Seizing ropes and guns, men rushed from their tents, eager to take a hand in the execution of the miscreants.

And in less time than it takes to tell it, the outlaws were surrounded by a hostile, threatening mob.

Realizing that the moments were crucial, Jesse sprang at his accuser, clutching him by the throat and shook him as a terrier does a rat.

"You lie—and you know you lie!" he thundered. "That mare was bought in Kansas City and I can prove it.

"What your reason is for accusing me, I don't know. But I do know you've got to tell these people you lied when you said the mare was yours! Now speak up lively!" And with a parting shake, he released Consollas' throat that he might obey.

But instead, the moment the storekeeper felt the terrible grip about his neck relax, he yelled:

"Help! Help! It's my m—"

With a look of terrible fury as he heard the words, the famous desperado's powerful right shot out, driving the false utterance back into Consollas' mouth as it struck him full in the face, and sent him to the ground like a log.

"Seize him! Seize him!" yelled the mob, surging forward as the merchant fell.

But the great outlaw was ready for them.

Whipping out his trusty "Colts," he cried:

"The first man who steps into this clearing about me will pay for his rashness with his life!"

The situation was grave.

The storekeeper had a reputation for probity and many an one of the sojourners at the Springs knew that he possessed a roan mare.

Furthermore, no one knew the three strangers, whence they came or what was their business, save the meagre information vouchsafed by the bandit-chieftain, and horse-thieves were not confined to any one class. The fact that the outlaws were armed with knives as well as shooting-irons and were so perfectly at ease in their use had not failed to impress the patrons of the resort and free were their comments.

On the other hand, the men bore themselves with confidence and assurance, characteristics that the popular mind did not associate with horse-thieves. Their clothes were of the finest quality, and they had the appearance of men of means.

But Consollas' accusation had been direct and unequivocal.

In the crowd he had many friends and these, when they saw the merchant felled, clamoured for the capture of the outlaws.

Yet no one was eager to make the attempt for Frank and Clell had placed themselves back to back against their leader, keeping the mob at bay in the other directions.

Smiling at the respect for their weapons, Jesse determined to make the most of his enemy's silence.

"Do we look like men who would steal horses?" he demanded, appealing to the crowd. "We can buy all we want and—"

"Prove it!" cried a voice.

"With pleasure," laughed the great outlaw and slipping one of his revolvers in a pocket he drew from another a fat roll of bills and peeled off several of large denomination, waving them about him. "And my friends are equally well supplied."

Acting on the hint, his two companions displayed their money.

The effect was instantaneous.

It seemed preposterous that men so amply supplied with funds would run the risk incurred in stealing horses and several in the crowd were not slow to say so.

Quick to take advantage of the reaction of feeling, Jesse continued:

"Do we look like fools enough to steal a horse belonging to an inhabitant of Monegaw Springs and then pitch our tent right here where any who pass can see our animals?"

"No, you don't," chorused several.

"I hope not," grinned the famous desperado. "Another point, you'll notice this man, whoever he is—"

"Consollas," prompted one of the crowd.

"This Consollas only laid claim to one of our horses," continued the bandit-chieftain. "If I appropriated one of his ponies, why didn't my companions help themselves?"

The argument caught the people and, to make his vindication convincing, Jesse cried:

"If this man has lost a horse by thieves, I'm willing to lead a posse to hunt them."

"Good man! I'll go with you! That's the stuff! You're all right!" came from many throats, and leaving the still unconscious storekeeper where he lay, the crowd trooped off, the bandits at their head, to secure their mounts.

Unwilling to use their thoroughbreds in the condition in which they were after the harsh treatment to which they had been subjected, the three desperadoes asked for other horses and the very men who had been most eager to hang them were the most importunate in urging them to accept some of theirs.

"You won't accuse us of stealing 'em if we ride 'em, will you?" grinned Frank.

The thrust took with the crowd, putting them in rare good humour and, laughing and chatting, they rode forth to hunt the thieves.

By tacit agreement, the leadership of the posse was yielded to the world-famous desperado.

"Which way do we take to get to Consollas' farms?" he asked as they gained the highway.

"To the right," came the answer while others protested that it would be only a waste of time to go there.

But Jesse insisted that he wished to question the farm hands to get a description of the thieves and to learn the time when the mare had been missed and where she was when last seen and the others withdrew their objections.

Setting a smart pace, the bandit-chieftain, his pals on each side, and the posse were "burning up" the road when they beheld a cloud of dust ahead of them from which, as it drew nearer, emerged a horseman.

"Halt! We'll see who is it who's in such a hurry," commanded the great outlaw.

Drawing rein, the posse spread out across the highway, eagerly watching the approaching rider.

Suddenly one of the men in front ejaculated:

"Why, it's Fred Consollas!"

Apparently at the same time, the son of the storekeeper had recognized the form of his hated rival for he pulled his pony to its haunches, then whirled it and started back over the way he had come.

The action mystified the members of the posse and they shouted to the fellow to stop.

But the only effect of their words was to make Fred ride the faster.

"There's some crooked business about this," snapped Clell.

Impressed with the idea, Jesse rose in his stirrups and fired a bullet over the youth's head, shouting:

"If you don't stop, the next one will knock you out of your saddle."

A craven at heart, Fred Consollas thought more of saving his skin than of the danger of the discovery of the plot and quickly reined in.

"What are you doing here?" demanded the leader of the bandits as he and his posse overtook the fear-trembling lad.

His voice was stern and he bit off his words ominously.

Vainly searching the faces surrounding him, Fred stammered:

"I was l-looking for the mare."

"The roan your father said was stolen?" pursued the bandit-chieftain.

"U-huh."

"Then why were you going back to the Springs?"

"To see father."

"Did you learn anything about the thieves?"

"No."

"What's the use of wasting time over the boy?" snapped Frank. "He doesn't look as though he knew enough to tell whether the mare was stolen or not. Let him go on his way."

"Not much," returned Jesse, noting the look of relief that had appeared in Fred's eyes at his brother's words. "We'll take him with us.

"Take your place beside me, boy. All ready, men."

Three or four miles the posse rode in silence, then, rounding a turn in the highway, they caught sight of a farmhouse and buildings which the supposed miners were told were Consollas'.

Increasing their speed, the posse galloped along when all at once a shrill neigh sounded from the woods beside them and directly a horse broke through the underbrush and stopped with its head over the fence.

"That's the roan! That's Consollas' mare!" cried several voices at once.

Amazed, the great outlaw ordered a halt, then demanded:

"Are you sure?"

"Positive. I'd know her anywhere," chorused several of the surprised members of the posse.

For a moment Jesse looked at the animal intently. In general form and colour she resembled his own, back at the camp-ground, but none of the fine points of the thoroughbred did she possess.

Turning full upon the ashen-hued youth, the world-famous bandit snarled, with a blood-curdling oath:

"Is that the mare your father accused me of stealing?"

Too terrified at the demeanor of the wrathful man before him to realize the pitfall in the question, Consollas blurted:

"Yes."

A buzz of amazed exchange of opinions had broken from the men in the party at the unexpected appearance of the roan, but at Jesse's question they grew silent.

"When did you leave the Springs?"

"About an hour and a half ago."

"Then you couldn't have heard your father claim my mare as his."

The utterance produced a sensation among the posse. But ere they could recover from it, the inquisitor roared:

"If you weren't at the camp ground, how did you know your father accused me?"

"I didn't," growled the boy.

"But you just said you did. When I asked you if that mare by the fence was the one your father charged me with stealing, you said 'yes.' Now, how did you know if you weren't at the camp ground?"

Realizing when it was too late, that he had been trapped, the fellow maintained a sullen silence.

"Answer me!" bellowed Jesse.

But the lad only cowered in his saddle.

"There's dirty work somewhere," declared Jesse, addressing his companions, "and I intend to find out where.

"Now, sirrah, will you answer me?" and he thrust the muzzle of his six-shooter against the youth's head.

"Don't kill him! He's foolish!" cried a voice.

"Then let him answer," retorted the great outlaw. "No one can accuse me of being a horse thief and get away with it when the stolen nag is in her own pasture all the time.

"There's something at the bottom of all this and I intend to find it out!"

Acquiescing in the justice of Jesse's stand, the others stared at the quaking boy.

"You'd best make a clean breast of it," counselled the bandit-chieftain, "you won't get any aid from these gentlemen.

"Just tell me how you knew I was to be accused."

An instant the helpless conspirator said nothing.

With a wink at the members of the posse, Jesse clicked the hammer of his "Colt."

"Spare me! Spare me!" groaned Fred. "I'll tell. I'll tell." And hurriedly he blurted the details of the plot to discredit the rescuers.

Incredulous, the men stared at one another as the story was told.

Unwilling to believe that the merchant would stoop to such an act, they examined the boy with a merciless fire of cross-questions.

But the lad doggedly maintained he was telling the truth and when at last the members of the posse were reluctantly forced to believe, their anger at the dastardly plot knew no bounds.

"Lynch him! Shoot him!" rang from many a throat as the men urged their horses forward that they might lay hands on the wretch.

Enraged as he was, the great bandit cried:

"Steady, men, steady! The lad isn't so much to blame as his father."

Realizing the truth of the words, the thief-hunters dropped back, waiting for their orders, muttering angry threats against the plotters.

Strange indeed was the caprice of fate that had made the man he had striven to wrong so grievously his defender, yet such had the brown bearded desperado become.

Terrified by the black looks about him, Fred moved closer to his protector's side.

After a short interval, during which Jesse had consulted with Clell and Frank, the men grew restless, demanding that the lad be given to them.

The world-famous desperado, however, had other plans.

"Some of you ride back to the Springs and get Consollas. Get some tar and feathers and a big kettle at the same time.

"We'll give the precious pair a lesson they won't forget right away."

The suggestion met with noisy approval and quickly a score or more of the posse dashed off to find the merchant and the stuff necessary for the torture while the others set about erecting a tripod for the kettle and gathering firewood.

Consollas' plot had proved a boomerang.