Shoe-Bar Stratton. Ames Joseph Bushnell
she answered readily. “Tex thinks it will be better to move the cattle to where it won’t be so easy for those rustlers to get at them. I’m just going down there and we can ride together, if you like.” She turned toward the door. “When you’re through with Rick you’ll find me out at the corral.”
“Don’t you want me to saddle up for you?”
“Pedro will do that, thank you. Tell Rick if he wants anything while I’m gone all he has to do is to ring the bell beside his bed and Maria will answer it.”
She departed, and Buck walked briskly into the bedroom. Bemis lay in bed propped up with pillows and looking much better physically than he had done that morning. But his face was still strained, with that harassed, worried expression about the eyes which Stratton had noted before.
“Yuh saw Doc Blanchard, didn’t yuh?” he asked, as Buck sat down on the side of his bed. “What’d he say?”
“Why, that you were doing fine. Not a chance in a hundred, he said, of your having any trouble with the wound.”
“Oh, I know that. But when’d he say I’d be on my feet?”
Buck shrugged his shoulders. “He didn’t mention any particular time for that. I should think it would be two or three weeks, at least.”
“Hell!” The young fellow’s fingers twisted the coverlet nervously. “Don’t yuh believe I could – er – ride before that?” he added, almost pleadingly.
Stratton’s eyes widened. “Ride!” he repeated. “Where the deuce do you want to ride to?”
Bemis hesitated, a slow flush creeping into his tanned face. The glance he bent on Stratton was somewhat shamefaced.
“Anywhere,” he answered curtly, a touch of defiance in his tone. “You’ll say I’ve lost my nerve, an’ maybe I have. But after what’s happened around this joint lately, and especially last night – ”
He paused, glancing nervously toward the door. Buck’s expression had grown suddenly keen and eager.
“Well?” he urged. “What did happen, anyhow? I had my suspicions there was something queer about that business, but – You can trust me, old man.”
Bemis nodded, his dark eyes searching Stratton’s face. “I’ll take a chance,” he answered. “I got to. There ain’t nobody else. They’ve kept Bud away, and Miss Mary – Well, she’s all right, uh course, but Tex has got her buffaloed. She won’t believe nothin’ ag’in him. I told Bud I’d stay as long as he did, but – A man’s got to look after himself some. They ain’t likely to miss twice runnin’.”
“You mean to say – ”
Bemis stopped him with a cautious gesture. “Where’s that sneaking greaser?” he asked in a low tone, his eyes shifting nervously to the open door.
“Out saddling her horse.”
“Oh! Well, listen.” The young puncher’s voice sank almost to a whisper. “That sendin’ me down to Las Vegas was a plant; I’m shore of it. My orders was to sleep days an’ patrol around nights to get a line on who was after the cattle. I wasn’t awful keen about it, but still an’ all, I didn’t think they’d dare do what they tried to.”
“You mean there weren’t any rustlers at all?” put in Stratton impulsively.
“Shore there was, but they didn’t fire that shot that winged me. I’d just got sight of ’em four or five hundred yards away an’ was ridin’ along in the shadow tryin’ to edge close enough to size ’em up an’ mebbe pick off a couple. My cayuse was headin’ south, with the rustlers pretty near dead ahead, when I come to a patch of moonlight I had to cross. I pulled out considerable to ride around a spur just beyond, so when that shot came I was facin’ pretty near due east. The bullet hit me in the left leg, yuh recollect.”
Stratton’s eyes narrowed. “Then it must have been fired from the north – from the direction of the – ”
He broke off abruptly as Rick’s fingers gripped his wrist.
“Look!” breathed Bemis, in a voice that was scarcely audible.
He was staring over the low foot-board of the bed straight at the open door, and Buck swiftly followed the direction of his glance. For an instant he saw nothing. The doorway was quite empty, and he could not hear a sound. Then, of a sudden, his gaze swept on across the living-room and he caught his breath.
On the further wall, directly opposite the bedroom door, hung a long mirror in a tarnished gilded frame. It reflected not only the other side of the doorway but a portion of the wall on either side of it – reflected clearly, among other things, the stooping figure of a woman, her limp calico skirts dragged cautiously back in one skinny hand, her sharp, swarthy face bent slightly forward in an unmistakable attitude of listening.
CHAPTER IX
REVELATIONS
It was the Mexican woman, Maria. As Buck recognized her he rose quietly and moved swiftly toward the door. But if he had hoped to catch her unawares, he was disappointed. He had scarcely taken a step when, through the telltale mirror, he saw her straighten like a flash and move back with catlike swiftness toward the passage leading to the kitchen. When he reached the living-room she stood there calm and casual, with quite the air of one entering for the first time.
“Mees T’orne, she ask me see if Reek, he wan’ somet’ing,” she explained, with a flash of her white teeth.
“He doesn’t,” returned Buck shortly, eyeing the woman intently. “If he does, he’ll ring the bell.”
“Ver’ good,” she nodded. “I leave the door open to ’ear.”
With a nod and another smile she departed, and Buck heard her moving away along the passage. For a moment he was tempted to close and lock the door. Then he realized that even if she dared return to her eavesdropping, he would have ample warning by keeping an eye on the mirror, and so returned to Bemis.
“I hate that woman,” said Rick, when informed of her departure. “She’s always snoopin’ around, an’ so is her greaser husband. Down at the bunk-house it’s the same way, with Slim, an’ Flint Kreeger an’ the rest. I tell yuh, I’m dead sick of being spied on, an’ plotted against, an’ never knowin’ when yuh may get a knife in the back, or stop a bullet. I hate to leave Bud, but he’s so plumb set on – ”
“But what’s it all about?” put in Buck impatiently. “Can’t you tell a fellow, or don’t you know?”
Bemis flushed slightly at his tone. “I can tell yuh this much,” he retorted. “Tex don’t want them rustlers caught. He throws a clever bluff, an’ he’s pulled the wool over Miss Mary’s eyes, but for all that, he’s workin’ on their side. What kind of a foreman is it who’ll lose over a thousand head without stoppin’ the stealin’? It ain’t lack of brains, neither; Tex has got them a-plenty.”
“But Miss Thorne – ” protested Stratton, half-incredulously.
“I tell yuh, he’s got her buffaloed. She won’t believe a word against him. He was here in her dad’s time, an’ he’s played his cards mighty slick since then. She’s told yuh he can’t get men, mebbe? All rot, of course. He could get plenty of hands, but he don’t want ’em. What’s more, he’s done his best to get rid of me an’ Bud, an’ would of long ago, only Miss Mary won’t let him fire us.”
“But what in thunder’s his object?”
“So’s to have the place to himself, I reckon. He an’ those greasers in the kitchen, and the rest of the bunch, are as thick as thieves.”
“You mean he’d find it easier to get away with cattle if there wasn’t anybody around to keep tabs on him?”
Bemis hesitated. “I – I’m not sure,” he replied slowly. “Partly that, mebbe, but there’s somethin’ else. I’ve overheard things now an’ then I couldn’t make head or tail of, but they’re