[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
that trail!"]
"Why, Old Bill's sendin' for you, an' the fact of Sheriff Burley bein'
here."
"Talk nothing. Let's see what they want, and then talk. Pard, you
remember the agreement we made not long ago?"
"Sure. But I'm sort of worried, an' maybe--"
"You needn't worry about me. Come on," interrupted Moore. "I'd like you
to be there. And, Lem, fetch the boys."
"I shore will, an' if you need any backin' you'll git it."
When they reached the open Lem turned off toward the corrals, and Wade
walked beside Moore's horse up to the house.
Belllounds appeared at the door, evidently having heard the sound of
hoofs.
"Hello, Moore! Get down an' come in," he said, gruffly.
"Belllounds, if it's all the same to you I'll take mine in the open,"
replied the cowboy, coolly.
The rancher looked troubled. He did not have the ease and force habitual
to him in big moments.
"Come out hyar, you men," he called in the door.
Voices, heavy footsteps, the clinking of spurs, preceded the appearance
of the three strangers, followed by Jack Belllounds. The foremost was a
tall man in black, sandy-haired and freckled, with clear gray eyes, and
a drooping mustache that did not hide stern lips and rugged chin. He
wore a silver star on his vest, packed a gun in a greasy holster worn
low down on his right side, and under his left arm he carried a package.
It suited Wade, then, to step forward; and if he expected surprise and
pleasure to break across the sheriff's stern face he certainly had not
reckoned in vain.
"Wal, I'm a son-of-a-gun!" ejaculated Burley, bending low, with quick
movement, to peer at Wade.
"Howdy, Jim. How's tricks?" said Wade, extending his hand, and the smile
that came so seldom illumined his sallow face.
"Hell-Bent Wade, as I'm a born sinner!" shouted the sheriff, and his
hand leaped out to grasp Wade's and grip it and wring it. His face
worked. "My Gawd! I'm glad to see you, old-timer! Wal, you haven't
changed at all!... Ten years! How time flies! An' it's shore you?"
"Same, Jim, an' powerful glad to meet you," replied Wade.
"Shake hands with Bridges an' Lindsay," said Burley, indicating his two
comrades. "Stockmen from Grand Lake.... Boys, you've heerd me talk about
him. Wade an' I was both in the old fight at Blair's ranch on the
Page 160
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
Gunnison. An' I've shore reason to recollect him!... Wade, what're you
doin' up in these diggin's?"
"Drifted over last fall, Jim, an' have been huntin' varmints for
Belllounds," replied Wade. "Cleaned the range up fair to middlin'. An'
since I quit Belllounds I've been hangin' round with my young pard here,
Wils Moore, an' interestin' myself in lookin' up cattle tracks."
Burley's back was toward Belllounds and his son, so it was impossible
for them to see the sudden little curious light that gleamed in his eyes
as he looked hard at Wade, and then at Moore.
"Wils Moore. How d'ye do? I reckon I remember you, though I don't ride
up this way much of late years."
The cowboy returned the greeting civilly enough, but with brevity.
Belllounds cleared his throat and stepped forward. His manner showed he
had a distasteful business at hand.
"Moore, I sent for you on a serious matter, I'm sorry to say."
"Well, here I am. What is it?" returned the cowboy, with clear, hazel
eyes, full of fire, steady on the old rancher's.
"Jack, you know, is foreman of White Slides now. An' he's made a charge
against you."
"Then let him face me with it," snapped Moore.
Jack Belllounds came forward, hands in his pockets, self-possessed, even
a little swaggering, and his pale face and bold eyes showed the gravity
of the situation and his mastery over it.
Wade watched this meeting of the rivals and enemies with an attention
powerfully stimulated by the penetrating scrutiny Burley laid upon them.
Jack did not speak quickly. He looked hard into the tense face of Moore.
Wade detected a vibration of Jack's frame and a gleam of eye that showed
him not wholly in control of exultation and revenge. Fear had not
struck him yet.
"Well, Buster Jack, what's the charge?" demanded Moore, impatiently.
The old name, sharply flung at Jack by this cowboy, seemed to sting and
reveal and inflame. But he restrained himself as with roving glance he
searched Moore's person for sight of a weapon. The cowboy was unarmed.
"I accuse you of stealing my father's cattle," declared Jack, in low,
husky accents. After he got the speech out he swallowed hard.
Moore's face turned a dead white. For a fleeting instant a red and
savage gleam flamed in his steady glance. Then it vanished.
The cowboys, who had come up, moved restlessly. Lem Billings dropped his
head, muttering. Montana Jim froze in his tracks.
Moore's dark eyes, scornful and piercing, never moved from Jack's face.
It seemed as if the cowboy would never speak again.
"You call me thief! You?" at length he exclaimed.
Page 161
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
"Yes, I do," replied Belllounds, loudly.
"Before this sheriff and your father you accuse me of stealing cattle?"
"Yes."
"And you accuse me before this man who saved my life, who _knows_
me--before Hell-Bent Wade?" demanded Moore, as he pointed to the hunter.
Mention of Wade in that significant tone of passion and wonder was not
without effect upon Jack Belllounds.
"What in hell do I care for Wade?" he burst out, with the old
intolerance. "Yes, I accuse you. Thief, rustler!... And for all I know
your precious Hell-Bent Wade may be--"
He was interrupted by Burley's quick and authoritative interference.
"Hyar, young man, I'm allowin' for your natural feelin's," he said,
dryly, "but I advise you to bite your tongue. I ain't acquainted with
Mister Moore, but I happen to know Wade. Do you savvy?... Wal, then, if
you've any more to say to Moore get it over."
"I've had my say," replied Belllounds, sullenly.
"On what grounds do you accuse me?" demanded Moore.
"I trailed you. I've got my proofs."
Burley stepped off the porch and carefully laid down his package.
"Moore, will you get off your hoss?" he asked. And when the cowboy had
dismounted and limped aside the sheriff continued, "Is this the hoss you
ride most?"
"He's the only one I have."
Burley sat down upon the edge of the porch and, carefully unwrapping the
package, he disclosed some pieces of hard-baked yellow mud. The smaller
ones bore the imprint of a circle with a dot in the center, very clearly
defined. The larger piece bore the imperfect but reasonably clear track
of a curiously shaped horseshoe, somewhat triangular. The sheriff placed
these pieces upon the ground. Then he laid hold of Moore's crutch, which
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]