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"I got him, th' ----" he muttered.
"Then let's get out--_p.r.o.nto_!"
Twenty minutes later a man with a lantern stepped out of the shack in which the Captain had stood. Two others were with him.
"Yes, he left his horse there, all right," the man with the light muttered. "He got to him an' got away. n.o.body else could lead that horse off. He couldn't 'a' been hard hit or he couldn't 'a' got up."
CHAPTER XXII
Tables Turn; and Turn Again
A young chap from the East who was in Clear River County because of his lungs named her Delilah when she was only a little girl--Delilah Gomez.
She cooked now for the Double Six Ranch, the buildings of which cl.u.s.tered within a stone's throw of the Ranger post office. And that night as she sat looking from her window she thought, as she did much of the time, about the smiling Julio with his guitar--the handsome fellow who lived with Senor Rhues and did no work, but wore such fine chaps and kerchiefs!
She sighed, then started to her feet as she saw him come through the gate and up the path, and hastened to open the door for him.
Julio took off his hat.
"It is late," he said, flashing his teeth. "I come to ask you to do something for me, Delilah."
"What is it--now--so late?" she asked breathlessly.
"In the old house across the road"--he pointed--"is a horse. It is the horse of a friend. A friend, also, of Senor Rhues. He is now in the saloon. He is drunk. Will you take the horse away? To the place of Senor Rhues? And put him in the barn? And be sure to fasten the door so he will not get out?"
Delilah was puzzled a moment.
"But why," she asked, "why so late?"
Julio bowed profoundly again.
"We go--Senor Rhues, Senor Matson, and I, Julio, to take our friend away from the saloon. We are busy. Senor Rhues offers this."
He pressed a dollar into her palm. And for the dollar and a flash of Julio's teeth, Delilah went forth upon her commission.
The three men watched her go.
"That devil'd tear a man to pieces," Rhues muttered. "Any woman can handle him, though. Git him locked up, an' th' ---- tenderfoot can't make it away! He'll have to stay an' take what's comin'!"
The girl led the Captain down the road, past the Double Six Ranch, on to the cramped little barn behind the cabin where lived Rhues and his two companions.
It was not an easy task. The Captain did not want to go. He kept stopping and looking back. But the girl talked to him kindly and stroked his nose and--VB himself had taught him to respect women. This woman talked softly and petted him much, for she remembered the great horse she had seen ridden by the tall young fellow. Besides, the dollar was still in her hand. She led him into the cramped little barn, left him standing and came out, closing the doors behind her. Then she set out for home, clasping the dollar and thinking of Julio's smile.
The first shot attracted her. The second alarmed, and those that followed terrified the girl. She ran from the road and hovered in the shadow of a huge bowlder, watching fearfully, uttering little moans of fright.
She heard everything. Some men ran past her in the direction of Rhues's cabin, and she thought one of them must be Julio. But she was too frightened to stir, to try to determine; too frightened to do anything but make for her own home.
The girl moved stealthily through the night, facing the moon that swung low, unclouded again, making all radiant. She wanted to run for home, where she could hide under blankets, but caution and fear held her to a walk. She did not cry out when she stumbled over the body; merely cowered, holding both hands over her lips.
For a long time she stood by it, looking down, not daring to stoop, not daring to go away. Then the hand that sprawled on the dirt raised itself fell back; the lips parted, a moan escaped, and the head rolled from one side to the other.
The fear of dead things that had been on her pa.s.sed. She saw only a human being who was hurt. She dropped to her knees and took the head in her lap.
"Oh, _por Dios_! It is the _senor_ who rode the horse!" she muttered, and looked quickly over her shoulder at the Rhues cabin.
"They left him; they thought he was dead," she went on aloud. "They should know; he should be with them. They were going for him when the shooting began!"
She looked closer into VB's face and he moaned again. His eyes opened.
The girl asked a sharp question in Spanish.
"Is the _senor_ much hurt?" she repeated in the language he understood.
"Oh, Captain!" he moaned. "Why? Why did you--quit?"
She lifted him up then and he struggled sluggishly to help himself.
Once he muttered: "Oh, Gail! It hurts so!"
She strained to the limits of her lithe strength until she had him on his feet. Then she drew one of his arms about her neck, bracing herself to support his lagging weight.
"Come," she said comfortingly. "We will go--to them."
No light showed from the Rhues cabin, but the girl was sure the men were there, or would come soon. Loyal to Julio for the dollar and the memory of his graciousness, she worked with the heart of a good Samaritan, guiding the unconscious steps of the muttering man toward the little dark blot of houses.
It was a floundering progress. Twice in the first few rods the man went down and she was sorely put to get him on his feet again. But the moving about seemed to bring back his strength, and gradually he became better able to help himself.
They crossed the road and pa.s.sed through the gap in the fence by the cabin. VB kept muttering wildly, calling the girl Gail, calling for the Captain in a plaintive voice.
"There they are now! See the light?" she whispered. "It is not much.
They have covered the window. Yes."
"What?" VB asked, drawing a hand across his eyes.
She repeated her a.s.sertion that the men were in the cabin and he halted, refusing drunkenly to go on.
"No," he said, shaking his head. "I'm unarmed--they--"
But she tugged at him and forced him to go beside her. They progressed slowly, painfully, quietly. There was no sound, except VB's hard breathing, for they trod in dust. They approached the house and the girl put out a hand to help her along with the burden.
A thin streak of light came from a window. It seemed to slash deeply into the staggering man, bringing him back to himself. Then a sound, the low, worried nickering of a horse! The Mexican girl felt the arm about her neck tighten and tremble.
"The Captain!" VB muttered, looking about wildly.
He opened his lips to cry out to the horse as the events of the night poured back into his consciousness, to cry his questioning and his sorrow, to put into words the mourning for a faith, but that cry never came from his throat.