The Greatest Westerns of Ernest Haycox. Ernest Haycox

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СКАЧАТЬ I guess we'll ride that down. As fer the men o' this county they oughta know better'n to tackle me or my men. Stop that squirmin', yuh little spitfire! Ain't your own crew good enough fer yuh? Think yore awful smart, sidin' in with this waddy. Well, we'll learn yuh manners."

      "What are you going to do with me?"

      "Wait an' see. Come on, boys. We've lost the redhead, I guess. It won't do fer us to let him take pot shots from the bush. Anyhow, we've got Jill, which is plenty. We're ridin'."

      "If my father were alive he'd skin you."

      Trono chuckled. "Yeah, he shore would. Or I'd skin him. The old man was afraid o' me. Never had the nerve to gimme my time. Didn't know that, did yuh? Well, I had the dope on him. I'm a- tellin' yuh. I ain't no church member, but yore dad wa'n't a Methodist elder by a long shot. Come on, boys."

      She closed her lips, venturing no more. Trono was a desperate man, and the recent turn of events had unleashed the everpresent strain of lawlessness. Authority, he had never held in great esteem. More than once he had openly flouted it, though he perhaps did not quite understand that the county left him alone because he had the protection of Old Jim Breck. In his overweening pride he considered that it was his reputation they were afraid of; he believed he was the one who had made the JIB formidable. Stubbins would have told him otherwise, but on this morning Stubbins was not present to give his cautious advice. The girl wisely held her peace, uncomfortable in her precarious seat, thinking of Red and wondering what had become of him.

      They reached the open country and instead of going toward the ranch, curved westward, dropping into an arroyo that put them below the horizon. Much later they reached the homesteader's shack and stopped for a rest while Trono sent out men to skirmish. Jill, half asleep in the house, heard one of them ride hurriedly back some time later and presently the word "sheriff'" revived her hopes. It was swiftly quenched. Trono hailed her, half hurled her up before another of the party. Then they were away, riding in great haste, leaving Trono behind.

      She grew so weary that she lost trace of time. Once they stopped in a depression, the men whispering to one another and keeping watch over the surrounding land; later they left their shelter and struck rapidly toward the Pass, crossed it and dipped into the burning plain below. Jill closed her eyes and for long stretches of time was oblivious of her surroundings. She never knew how long she rode; but toward sunset she was roused by a man speaking and she looked up to see the 3Cross ranch-house directly in front of them. One of the party rode ahead. By-and-by the cavalcade reached the porch and stopped before Stubbins.

      Stubbins smiled courteously, but Jill understood him well enough to know there was little hope of help here. Still, she protested as much as her flagging strength permitted.

      "Mr. Stubbins, are you making war on a woman? For shame, but you will never live it down! I'll fight back—you'll never keep me long!"

      "Ma'am," said he evenly, "don't put it that way. We're only rescuin' you from your enemies. Consider yourself my guest, nothing more. All right, boys, the lady rests here."

      She slid gingerly to the ground. "Rescue! Fine words. But, then, you never were a hand to speak the truth. You were afraid of my father, Mr. Stubbins. You never had the courage to face him. So you waited until he died—and then began to fight me!"

      Stubbins reddened. His thin lips folded beneath the bear-like nose and he motioned her inside with a gesture abrupt and impatient. "You take advantage of a man, knowin' he can't strike back."

      "Fine reasoning," she retorted. "What excuse have you for taking advantage of a woman?"

      He half pushed her down a hall, into a bedroom. Without a word, bowed himself out. She heard the key turn and when she crossed to pull down the shade at the window she saw a puncher negligently stroll across from the bunkhouse and take up his station. A prisoner of the 3Cross! She dropped on the bed to cry but instead, fell asleep.

      Though transplanted from his native land—or, more properly, driven from it by an outraged family—Stubbins had never foregone its leisurely, formal customs. It was quite dark when he knocked on the door and announced supper. "I am waiting for you, of course. We must not let the meal get cold. Come, now."

      Awakened, Jill debated on self-imposed confinement. But that passed, for she was not the kind to sulk. Hers was the temperament that took the fight to the enemy; in this case she considered it the better part of valor to break bread with the Englishman and talk him out of his ideas. So she rose, washed some of the dust from her face and stepped forth to meet him. He had recovered his perfect urbanity and led her into the dining- room, seating her with a studious politeness. Jill looked about her with considerable interest.

      The man lived high and took pains to bring as much of England into the desert as he could. He had fashioned the dining-room, which was the living-room as well, after the fashion of a manorial hall, its ceiling extending a story and a half up. Trophies studded the four walls and bear rugs quite entirely covered the floor. There was a great fireplace, surmounted by a mantel filled with pipes, tobacco and a litter of purely masculine bric-a-brac. A long gun rack stood to one side, the row of oiled weapons glistening dully in the lamp light And somewhere he had picked up some magnificent oil paintings of the West—a Remington's scene of a bighorn on the high ledges; a thorough-brace stage coach tilting perilously down a mountain road done as Russell alone knew how to do.

      He enjoyed her unspoken compliment and said so. "You see, I surround myself with as many comforts as I can. Really, the old Westerners are grand fighters, but they don't understand the gentle art of living. It takes a gentleman of the old country to show them."

      Jill shrugged her shoulders in dissent. A Chinaman came silently in and they ate through four sedate courses, conversing in desultory phrases. The Englishman proceeded quite as if he were entertaining an honored guest and Jill, for all her distrust of the man, conceded that he was a far more polished specimen than she had ever before known. He made a ritual of supper and, when they had finished, drew her to the glowing blaze. The Chinaman came in with coffee; over the cups Stubbins smiled expansively and touched on dangerous territory.

      "Jill, it has been unfortunate that your father and I never struck it off. A fine gentleman. One I was sincerely sorry to see go."

      The girl stared at him somberly. It was a direct lie—she saw as much in his eyes. Stubbins spread his hands outward in a symbol of frankness. "All this warfare has been exaggerated. True, we fought sometimes, but usually it was our crews that collided and caused the rumpus. What I'm getting around to, is that you must not harbor ill will toward me on account of a fancied feud. I—most assuredly do I say so—am your friend."

      "What are you getting to?" demanded Jill, using her father's bluntness.

      Stubbins shut his mouth suddenly and breathed through his nose. "Ah, you disbelieve. My dear girl, you must understand that this world is a dreadful place. Men fight each other over nothing at all, bear tales that are untrue and so go on weaving a web of animosity. It's this I wish to break down, betwixt you and me. We must stick together."

      "By all means," said Jill. "Even if you must lock me in my bedroom."

      "Only because I was afraid you would run away before I had a chance of putting the situation before you in its proper light. Now, look; here you are entirely alone and very much in trouble. What are you going to do about it?"

      "I am going to scratch your eyes out, Mr. Stubbins," said she, quite earnestly. "Once I get the chance."

      He pondered over this, not quite knowing whether she meant it literally or figuratively. The girl made herself clear.

      "Don't СКАЧАТЬ