The Bandit of Hell's Bend - Edgar Rice Burroughs (reading tree .txt) 📗

WITH the coming of morning Diana Henders’ mind had, to some extent at least, emerged from the chaos of conflicting emotions that had obstructed reasonable consideration of her plans for the immediate future. It had been her intention to ride forthwith to Hendersville and confront Corson and Lillian with the proofs of their perfidy, but now saner reflection counseled more rational procedure. The law now was all upon her side, the proofs were all in her hands. It was beyond their power to harm her. She would continue in the even tenor of her ways, directing the affairs of the ranch and mine, as though they did not exist. When they made a move she would be prepared to meet it.

She spent an hour before breakfast in the office writing diligently and then she sent for Texas Pete. When he arrived she handed him an envelope.

“Take this to Aldea, Pete,” she said, “and mail it on the first eastbound train. I can’t trust to the stage-it is held up too often-and, Pete, I am sending you because I know that I can trust you to get to Aldea as quickly as you can without letting anything interfere. It means a great deal to me, Pete.”

“I’ll git it there,” said Texas Pete, and she knew that he would.

Ten minutes later she glanced through the doorway of the kitchen, where she was talking with Wong, and saw a cloud of dust streaking swiftly northward toward Hell’s Bend Pass, across country in an airline. Roads and trails were not for such as Texas Pete when speed was paramount.

The day, occupied by the normal duties of the ranch, passed without unusual incident. There was no word from Corson. The next day came, brought Texas Pete back from Aldea, and went its way with the infinite procession of other yesterdays, and still no word from Corson. By this time Diana was about convinced that the New Yorker, appreciating what the theft of his letter must mean to him, had abandoned his scheme and that doubtless the stage that arrived in Hendersville today would carry him and his accomplice back to Aldea and an eastbound train.

Her mind was occupied with such satisfactory imaginings that morning when the office doorway was darkened by the figure of a man. Looking up she saw Gum Smith standing with hat in hand.

“Mo’nin’, Miss,” he greeted her.

Diana nodded, wondering what Gum Smith could be doing on the Bar Y, a place where he had always been notoriously unwelcome.

“Ah’ve came on a mos’ onpleasant duty, Miss,” he explained. “As sheriff o’ this yere county it is mah duty to serve yoall with notice to vacate this property by noon tomorrer, as the rightful an’ lawful owners wishes to occupy same.”

“You mean Mr. Corson and Miss Manill?” inquired Diana, sweetly.

“Yes, Miss, an’ they hopes they won’t be no trouble. They’s willin’ to do the right thing by yo, ef yo moves off peaceable-like an’ pronto.”

“Would you mind taking a note to Mr. Corson for me?” she asked. “I think I can convince him that he is making a mistake.”

Gum Smith would be glad to accommodate her. He said so, but he also advised her, as “a friend of her father,” to make her preparations for early departure, since Mr. Corson’s patience was exhausted and he had determined to take drastic action to possess himself of the ranch, as Miss Manill’s agent.

When Mr. Maurice B. Corson read that note an hour later he swore in a most unseemly manner. He did not divulge its contents to the Wainrights, but he went into executive session with Gum Smith and Hal Colby from which he did not emerge for an hour. A short time later the sheriff, accompanied by a dozen deputies, rode out of Hendersville and some time thereafter Corson, Lillian Manill and the Wainrights drove off in the latter’s buckboard which Diana had sent in to them the morning after their hasty departure from the Bar Y

The ranch was deserted that afternoon, except for a couple of laborers, the white cook at the cook-house and Wong at the residence. Texas Pete and his vaqueros were spread over a vast principality occupied with the various duties of their calling. Idaho had been left at home, in accordance with time-honored custom, to act as body guard for Diana should she wish to ride abroad, which she had wished to do, and they were both off to the southeast somewhere, in the direction of the Johnson Ranch.

It was a lazy afternoon. The air vibrated with heat. But in one corner of the kitchen, far from the stove, which was now out, there was a cool corner, or rather, one less like inferno. Here stood a long table that had once graced the dining room, and upon it at full length, supine, lay Wong, asleep, his long pipe with its tiny brass bowl still clutched in onedepending hand.

He was aroused by the sound of voices in the front of the house. He opened his eyes, sat up and listened. There was a woman’s voice among those of men, but it was not the voice of “Mlissee Dli.” Wong arose and walked toward the office. He stopped where he could observe the interior without being observed. His slanting, oriental eyes narrowed at what they saw. There were Corson and Miss Manill, the two Wainrights and Gum Smith. Corson was going through Elias Henders’ desk as though it belonged to him. Presently, after having examined many papers, he evidently found what he wanted, for there was a look of relief upon his face as he stuffed them into an inside pocket of his coat after a superficial glance.

The elder Wainright was continually glancing through the doorway with an air of extreme nervousness. “You think it is perfectly safe, Sheriff?” he demanded.

“Of course it is, Wainright,” snapped Corson. “We’ve got the law on our side, I tell you, and enough men out there to back it up. As soon as her men find we mean business they won’t bother us as long as she isn’t here to egg them on, and most of them would just as soon work for us anyway when they find Colby is coming back as foreman-a lot of them are his friends.”

“I don’t see why Colby didn’t come along with us now,” grumbled Wainright.

“He wanted to wait until we were settled in our ownership and then we could hire whom we pleased as foreman,” said Corson. “I see how he feels about it and it will help to make him stronger with the men and with the neighbors if he hasn’t taken any part in the eviction. It’ll be better for us in the long run, for we are going to need all the friends we can get in the county.”

“I am afraid we are,” agreed Wainright. “I hope you will fire that Texas Pete and the ones they call Shorty an’ Idaho the very fast thing you do. I don’t like ‘em.”

“That’s about the first thing I intend doing as soon as they get in,” replied Corson. “Just now we’d better look up that damned insolent Chink and tell him how many are going to be here for dinner, or supper, or whatever they call it out here.”

Wong tiptoed silently and swiftly to the kitchen, where Lillian Manill found him a moment later and imparted her orders to him.

An hour later Texas Pete rode into the ranch yard with his men. He was met at the corrals by a fellow he recognized as an habitue of Gum’s Place-one Ward, by name.

“Evenin’,” said Ward.

“Evenin’,” replied Texas Pete. “Wotinell are you doin’ here, Ward?”

“They wants you, Shorty an’ Idaho up to the office.”

“Who wants us?”

“Miss Henders an’ the people she’s sold out to.”

“Sold out, hell!” exclaimed Pete.

“Go on up an’ ask ‘em.”

“I shore will. Come on Shorty. Idaho must be aroun’ the bunkhouse somewheres.” The two men started for the office. At the bunkhouse they looked for Idaho, but he was not there, so they went on without him. As they approached the house they saw three men lolling on the veranda outside the office door. They were not Bar Y men. Inside they saw Corson sitting at the desk. He motioned them to enter.

“Come in, boys,” he said, pleasantly.

As they entered the three men behind them rose and drew their six-guns and at the same instant three others just within the office covered them with theirs.

“Put ‘em up!” they were advised, and Texas Pete and Shorty, being men of discretion, put them up. While they had them up one of the gentlemen in their rear relieved them of their weapons.

“Now look here, boys,” said Corson, not unpleasantly, “we have no quarrel with you and we don’t want any, but you’re rather quick with your guns and we took this means of insuring an amicable interview. Mr. Wainright, Miss Manill and I are now owners of the Bar Y Ranch. Miss Henders, realizing that she had no claim, has