The Texan - James B. Hendryx (best historical fiction books of all time txt) 📗

the moonlight another horse appeared. It, too, was riderless, and the next instant, from the same direction sounded a low, muffled cry and, leaping from his saddle, he dashed toward the spot. The sage grew higher in the depression which was the head of a branch of the coulee by means of which the trail gained the bench, and as he plunged in, the head and shoulders of a man appeared above a bush. Endicott was very close when the man pushed something fiercely from him, and the body of a woman crashed heavily into the sage. Levelling the gun, he fired. The shot rang loud, and upon the edge of the depression a horse snorted nervously. The man pitched forward and lay sprawled grotesquely upon the ground and Endicott saw that his extended hand grasped a revolver.

Dully he stared at the thing on the ground at his feet. There was a movement in the scrub and Alice Marcum stood beside him. He glanced into her face. And as her eyes strayed from the sprawling figure to meet his, Endicott read in their depths that which caused his heart to race madly. She stepped toward him and suddenly both paused to listen. The girl's face turned chalk-white in the moonlight. From the direction of the coulee came the sound of horses' hoofs pounding the trail!

CHAPTER VII THE ARREST

Bat Lajune grinned into the dark as the galloping cow-horse carried Endicott out upon the trail of Purdy and the girl. "A'm t'ink dat wan good job. Mebbe-so de pilgrim keel Purdy, bien! Mebbe-so Purdy keel de pilgrim, den de sheriff ketch Purdy an' she got for git hang—dat pret' good, too. Anyhow, Tex, she don' got for bodder 'bout keel Purdy no mor'. Tex kin keel him all right, but dat Purdy she damn good shot, too. Mebbe-so she git de drop on Tex. Den afterwards, me—A'm got to fool 'roun' an' keel Purdy, an' mebbe-so A'm hang for dat, too. Wat de hell!"

A man rode up to the corral and tied his horse to the fence. The half-breed drew into the shadow. "Dat Sam Moore," he muttered. "She dipity sher'ff, an' she goin' try for git 'lect for de beeg sher'ff dis fall. Mebbe-so she lak' for git chanct for 'rest som'one. A'm goin' see 'bout dat." He stepped to the side of the man, who started nervously and peered into his face.

"Hello, Bat, what the devil you doin' prowlin' around here? Why hain't you in dancin'?"

The half-breed shrugged: "Me, A'm no lak' for dance mooch. She don' do no good. Anyhow, A'm hont 'roun' for fin' you. A'm t'ink mebbe-so you better com' 'long wit' me."

"Come along with you! What's on yer mind?" Suddenly the man straightened: "Say, look a here, if you're up to helpin' Tex Benton pull off any gag on me, you've picked the wrong hand, see!"

The other shook his head vigorously: "Non! Tex, she goin' in de dance-hall. She don' know nuthin' 'bout w'at A'm know."

"What you drivin' at? Come on, spit 'er out! I hain't a-goin' to fool 'round here all night an' miss the dancin'."

Bat stepped closer: "Two mans an' wan 'oman gon' up de trail. A'm t'ink som'one goin' for git keel. Mebbe-so we better gon' up an' see 'bout dat."

"You're crazy as hell! The trail's free, hain't it? What business I got hornin' in on 'em? I come to town for to take in the dance, an' I'm a-goin' to. Besides it's a good chanct to do a little 'lectioneerin'." Once more Bat shrugged, and turning away, began to untie his horse.

"Four Ace Johnson, over 'crost de riv', she dipity sher'ff, too. A'm hear she goin' run for de beeg sher'ff, nex' fall. A'm gon' over an' see if she no lak' to go 'long an' mak' de arres' if som'ting happen. Mebbe-so w'en de votin' tam' com' 'long de men lak' for hav' Choteau County sher'ff w'at kin mak' de arres' better as de sher'ff w'at kin dance good. Voila!" Without so much as a glance toward the other, he slipped into his saddle and started slowly down the alley. Before he reached the street Moore's horse pushed up beside him.

"Where's this here outfit?" he growled, with a glance toward the dance-hall lights, "an' what makes you think they's a-goin' to be gun-fightin'?"

"A'm t'ink dey ain' so far," replied the half-breed as he swung into the trail at a trot. And although the impatient deputy plied him with a volley of questions the other vouchsafed no further information. Midway of the ascent to the bench the two drew rein abruptly. From above, and at no great distance, rang the sound of a shot—then silence. The deputy glanced at the half-breed: "Hey, Bat," he whispered, "this here's a dangerous business!"

"Mebbe-so Choteau County lak' to git de sher'ff w'at ain' so mooch scairt."

"Scairt! Who's scairt? It hain't that. But I got a wife an' nine kids back there in the mountains, an' I'm a-goin' to deputize you."

The half-breed shot him a look of sudden alarm: "Non! Non! Better
I lak' I ponch de cattle. You ke'p de nine wife an' de kid!"

"You hain't got no more sense than a reservation Injun!" growled the deputy. "What I mean is, you got to help me make this here arrest!"

The half-breed grinned broadly: "Me,—A'm de, w'at you call, de posse, eh? Bien! Com' on 'long den. Mebbe-so we no ketch, you no git 'lect for sher'ff."

At the head of the trail the deputy checked his galloping mount with a jerk and scrutinized the three riderless horses that stood huddled together. His face paled perceptibly. "Oh, Lord!" he gasped between stiffening lips: "It's Tex, an' Jack Purdy, an' they've fit over Cinnabar Joe's gal!"

He turned wrathfully toward Bat. "Why'n you tell me who it was up here, so's I could a gathered a man's-size posse?" he demanded. "Whichever one of them two has shot up the other, they hain't goin' to be took in none peaceable. An' if they've killed one of each other a'ready, he ain't goin' to be none scrupulous about pottin' you an' me. Chances is, they've got us covered right now. 'Tain't noways percautious to go ahead—an' we don't dast to go back! Bat, this is a hell of a place to be—an' it's your fault. Mebbe they won't shoot a unarmed man—here Bat, you take my gun an' go ahead. I'll tell 'em back there how you was game to the last. O-O-o-o-o! I got a turrible cramp in my stummick! I got to lay down. Do your duty, Bat, an' if I surmise this here attact, which I think it's the appendeetus, I'll tell 'em how you died with yer boots on in the service of yer country." The man forced his six-shooter into the half-breed's hand and, slipping limply from his saddle to the ground, wriggled swiftly into the shadow of a sage bush.

Bat moved his horse slowly forward as he peered about him. "If Purdy keel de pilgrim, den A'm better look out. He don' lak' me nohow, 'cause A'm fin' out 'bout dat cinch. Better A'm lak' Sam Moore, A'm git de 'pendeceet in my belly for li'l w'ile." He swung off his horse and flattening himself against the ground, advanced cautiously from bush to bush. At the edge of the depression he paused and stared at the two figures that huddled close together a few feet ahead. Both were gazing toward the trail and in the moonlight he recognized the face of the pilgrim. With a smile of satisfaction the half-breed stood erect and advanced boldly.

"You com' in tam', eh?" he asked, as with a nod Endicott stepped toward him and handed him the revolver.

"Yes, just in time. I am deeply grateful to you."

"Eh?" The other's brows drew together.

"I say, I thank you—for the gun, and for telling me——"

"Ha, dat's a'right. W'er' Purdy?" The girl shuddered, as Endicott pointed to the ground at some little distance away. The man advanced and bent over the prostrate form.

"Ba goss!" he exclaimed with a glance of admiration. "You shoot heem after de draw! Nom de Dieu! You good man wit' de gun! Wer' you hit heem?"

Endicott shook his head. "I don't know. I saw him, and shot, and he fell." The half-breed was bending over the man on the ground.

"You shoot heem on he's head," he approved, "dat pret' good place." He bent lower and a sibilant sound reached the ears of Endicott and the girl. After a moment the man stood up and came toward them smiling. "A'm fin' out if she dead," he explained, casually. "A'm speet de tobac' juice in he's eye. If she wink she ain' dead. Purdy, she don' wink no mor'. Dat damn good t'ing."

Again Alice Marcum shuddered as Endicott spoke: "Can you find our horses?" he asked. "I must go to town and give myself up."

"Oui, A'm git de hoss' a'right. Better you tak' 'em an' skeep off. A'm git on dat posse an' you bet we no ketch. A'm lak' you fine."

"No! No!" Endicott exclaimed. "If I have killed a man I shall stand trial for it. I won't sneak away like a common murderer. I know my act was no crime, let the decision of the jury be what it may."

The half-breed regarded him with a puzzled frown. "You mean you lak' fer git arres'?" he asked in surprise.

"Why, of course! I—" the other interrupted with a laugh.

"A'right. Dat de kin' Sam Moore she lak' fer arres'. Sam, she layin' back here a ways. She dipity sher'ff, an' we'n we com' on dem hoss', Sam she git to fink 'bout he's wife an' kids. He don' fink 'bout dem mooch only w'en he git dronk, or git scairt. Den he lov' 'em lak' hell, an' he grab de beeg belly-ache, so dey don' got for feel sorry 'bout heem gittin' keel."

Slipping his own gun into its holster, the half-breed turned and walked toward the spot where he had left the deputy, and as he walked he threw open the cylinder of the officer's gun and removed the cartridges.

"Sam!" he called sharply. Cautiously a head raised from behind a sage bush. "How long you t'ink dat tak' you git well? Wan man he lak' for git arres' w'en you git time."

"Shut up! Don't talk so loud! D'you want to git us killed? Which one got it?"

"Purdy. De pilgrim shoot heem 'cause he run off wit' he's girl."

"Pilgrim! What pilgrim! An' what girl? Ain't that Tex Benton's horse, an' Cinnabar Joe's——?"

"Uh-huh, A'm bor' heem Tex boss for ketch Purdy. An', Ba goss, he shoot heem on he's head after Purdy draw'd!"

Moore stared aghast. "What? A pilgrim done that? Not on yer life! He may look an' act like a pilgrim but, take it from me, he's a desperate character if he got Purdy after he draw'd. It's worser than if it was Tex. He might of took pity on us, knowin' about the fambly. But a stranger, an' one that kin git a man like Jack Purdy! O-o-o-o, my stummick! Bat, I'm 'fraid I'm a-passin' away! These spells is a-killin' me—an' what'll become of the woman an' the kids?"

The half-breed grinned: "Mebbe-so you kin' pass back agin, Sam. He ain' got no gun."

Sam Moore ceased to writhe, and sat abruptly erect. "Ain't got no gun!" he exclaimed. "What did he shoot Purdy with?"

"My gun. He giv' it back to me. A'm bor' heem dat gun li'l while ago."

The deputy sprang to his feet. "Quick, now, Bat!" he roared loudly. "You slip these irons on him, an' I'll catch up the horses. Don't take no chances!" He tossed