Essential Western Novels - Volume 4. Max Brand

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      "He could not have done it," she murmured. She sprang to her feet almost defiantly and raised her eyes to the black shadows among the rafters. "He did not do it," she said aloud.

      "What's that?" asked Bryam from beyond the doorway.

      She walked out to where the man stood beside the fire. "Cory Blaine did this," she said, "and you may tell him for me that there are two men in the world, one of whom will kill him for it—the one who catches him first."

      "Blaine had nothing to do with it," snapped Bryam. "Here's the grub and you better eat. You got a long ride ahead of you."

      In silence she ate the rough fare, for she knew that she must maintain her strength; and the three men with her ate, too, in silence, while the hounds nosed among them, whining for scraps.

      "What you goin' to do with the pooches, Hi?" asked Mart, after he had finished eating.

      "Leave 'em here," replied Bryam. "They can rustle plenty grub in the hills."

      "Won't they follow us?" asked Eddie.

      "Not if I tell 'em to stay here," replied Bryam.

      "I've been thinkin'," said Mart suddenly.

      "That aint one of the things that nobody aint expectin' of you," said Bryam.

      "You listen," said the other.

      "I'm listenin'."

      "That campfire down there has upset all our plans. Everybody knows you're batchin' up here, huntin' lion. If they find you gone and your dogs here, that'll look funny to 'em."

      "Well, what's to be done about it?"

      "You ought to stay here," continued Mart. "It will be a whole lot safer for you and for us, too."

      "How do you make that out?" demanded Bryam.

      "If they find you here they aint goin' to suspicion you, are they?"

      "No. That's right, too."

      "And if you're here when they come, you can send them off on a wrong trail after us."

      "That's where your head aint no good," said Bryam. "If you come here with the girl, then I must have known somethin' about it; and if you didn't come here, how could I tell 'em what trail you went on?"

      "You don't have to tell 'em the girl was here. Tell 'em two fellers you never seen before rid in over the ridge from the east, bummed some grub and asked the trail to Deming; then say that they rid back up over the ridge to the east."

      "That would be a hell of a trail to Deming," said Bryam.

      "Sure it would," agreed Mart; "but don't you see that fellers stealin' the girl would just naturally beat it for the roughest country they could find?"

      "That aint such a bad scheme," said Eddie.

      "It's a durn good one," admitted Bryam.

      "We'll ride up the canyon a bit, then cut across to the west ridge and follow that to the One Mile Creek Trail. You can easy brush out our trail above camp for a ways, then ride your horse up the east trail to the summit, come down somewhere else and ride him up again, pickin' another new place to come down into camp. That'll give a fresh horse trail to the east summit, and they aint goin' to stop to try and figure out whether there were two horses or three went up, even if they could tell, which probably they couldn't."

      "You aint such a fool as you look," admitted Bryam grudgingly.

      "Well, let's get started," said Eddie. "Come on, Miss, here's your horse."

      "May I go back into the cabin a moment?" asked Kay. "I left my handkerchief there I think."

      "Well hurry up," said Bryam.

      She ran quickly into the cabin, but she did not search for any handkerchief. Instead she gathered up a deck of greasy playing cards that had been lying on the table and slipped them into the pocket of her leather coat. A moment later she was outside again and had mounted.

      Mart led the way up the canyon, his horse following the trail in the darkness. Directly behind him rode Kay, and following her was Eddie. They had temporarily, at least, discarded their original plan of leading Kay's horse, for it was obvious that this would have been most difficult upon the steep, rough trail, zig-zagging up the canyonside to the summit of the western ridge. They had warned her against the danger of attempting to escape, since a single misstep from the trail might result in injury or death to her; and she knew that they were right.

      In the darkness Kay took one of the playing cards from her pocket and tied her handkerchief tightly about it. When she saw Mart turn abruptly from the trail toward the ridge at their right, she dropped the handkerchief and the card to the ground, knowing there was no likelihood that he would perceive what she had done. Then she took another card from her pocket and tore it in two, dropping the halves at intervals; and so she marked their way until they entered the main trail leading up the hillside.

      Perhaps no one would come that way to see. Perhaps, if they did, they might not interpret the significance of the signs that she had left; but if someone did chance to see and guess the truth, she knew that she had plainly blazed for such the trail of her abductors onward from Bryam's shack.

      The trail, bad enough in the daytime, seemed infinitely worse at night, yet they reached the summit of the ridge in safety and were moving southward on more level ground.

      With dogged determination, Bruce Marvel followed the trail upward into Mill Creek Canyon. Baldy had responded nobly to the call upon him; but as the man had done all that he could to conserve his horse's strength, the animal had not, as yet, shown indications of fatigue.

      "Baldy, I'm banking on you," said the man in low tones. "You saved her once and you're going to again. If we find her at Bryam's, it won't be long now; but if they've left and hit the trail for Kelly's in Sonora, you and I got some ride cut out for us; but I reckon we can catch 'em, Baldy. I seen their horses yesterday, and they aint one-two with you. No, sir, old man, beside you they is just plain scrubs."

      Once again he lapsed into his usual state of silence, but his mind was active with plans and memories.

      He recalled, as he often did, Kay's tone of disgust when she had reproached him for having thrown Blaine's boot into the fire. She had never spoken of it again, but he knew that she had not forgotten it and that by that much he had lowered himself in her estimation. He admired her for not reverting to it again—another might have reminded him of it. Yes, she was a brick all right.

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      XVII

      TORN PLAYING CARDS

      BEHIND him, several hours now, rode the posse, headed by the deputy sheriff of Porico County; and behind the posse came Cory Blaine. He would have been glad to have passed them so that he might reach Bryam's shack first; but there seemed little likelihood that he would be able to do so; for they were maintaining СКАЧАТЬ