Shoe-Bar Stratton Part 34

"Open up, I tell yuh," repeated the voice. "I ain't aimin' to--hurt yuh."

Then apparently a heavy shoulder thrust against the door, which shook and creaked ominously. Suddenly the girl's slim figure straightened and she brought her weapon around in front of her, holding it with both hands.

"If--if you try to force that door, I--I'll shoot," she called out.

The only answer was an incredulous laugh, and an instant later the man's shoulder struck the panels with a crash that cracked one of them and partly tore the bolt from its insecure fastenings.

Promptly the girl c.o.c.ked her weapon, shut both eyes, and pulled the trigger. The recoil jerked the barrel up, and the bullet lodged in the ceiling. Before she could recover from the shock, there came another crash, the shattered door swung inward, and Tex Lynch sprang across the threshold.

Again Mary lifted the heavy weapon and tried to nerve herself to fire. But somehow this was different from shooting through a solid wooden door, and she could not bring herself to do it. Mrs. Archer had no such scruples.

Her small, delicately-chiseled face was no longer soft and gentle. It had frozen into a white mask of horror, out of which the once-soft eyes blazed with fierce determination. Bending across the table, she leveled her toylike weapon at the advancing outlaw, and by the merest chance sent a bullet flying so close to his head that he ducked instinctively. An instant later Pedro darted through the pa.s.sage from the kitchen, s.n.a.t.c.hed the weapon from her hand, and flung her roughly into a chair.

Her aunt's half-stifled cry stung Mary like a lash and roused her from the almost hypnotic state in which, wide-eyed and terrified, she had been watching Lynch's swift advance.

"Oh!" she cried furiously. "You--you beast!"

He was within a few feet of her now, and moved by the double impulse of fear and anger, her finger pressed the trigger. But there was no response, and too late the girl realized that she had failed to c.o.c.k the weapon. In another moment Lynch had wrenched it from her hand.

CHAPTER x.x.xI

GONE

Motionless in his saddle, save for an occasional restless stamp of his horse, Bud Jessup waited patiently in front of the adobe shack at Las Vegas camp. His face was serious and thoughtful, and his glance was fixed on the open door through which came the broken, indistinguishable murmur of Buck Stratton's voice. Once, thinking he heard an unusual sound, the youngster turned his head alertly and stared westward through the shadows.

But a moment later his eyes flashed back to that narrow, black oblong, and he resumed his uneasy pondering as to what Buck might possibly be finding out.

Suddenly he gave a start as Stratton's voice, harsh, startled, came to him distinctly.

"Mary! Mary! Why don't you answer? What's happened?"

The words were punctuated by a continuous rattle, and ended abruptly with the clatter of metal against metal.

"h.e.l.l!" rasped Buck, in a hoa.r.s.e, furious voice with an undercurrent of keen apprehension that made Bud's nerves tingle. "The wire's been cut!"

An instant later he appeared, running. s.n.a.t.c.hing the reins, he gained the saddle in a single bound, jerked his horse around, and was off across the pasture.

"Come on!" he shouted back over one shoulder. "There's trouble at the ranch."

Bud dug spurs into his cayuse and followed, but it was some minutes before he managed to catch up with his friend.

"What is it?" he cried anxiously. "What's wrong? Have the Mannings--"

"They've gone, as I thought," snapped Stratton. "The two women are alone.

But that isn't the worst." A sudden spasm of uncontrolled fury rose in his throat and choked him momentarily. "There's some one hidden in the loft over the harness-room," he managed to finish hoa.r.s.ely.

Bud stared at him in dismay. "Who the devil--"

"I don't know. She just got a glimpse of a--a face in the window while she was closing up the kitchen."

"Do you suppose it's--Tex?"

"I don't know," retorted Buck through his clenched teeth. "What difference does it make, anyhow? Some one hid there for a--a purpose. By G.o.d! What fools we were not to make a search!"

"It seemed so darn sure they'd all beat it," faltered Bud. "Besides, I don't guess any of us would of thought to look in that loft."

"Maybe not. It doesn't matter. We didn't." Stratton's voice was brittle.

"But if anything happens--"

"Have they locked up the whole house?" Jessup asked as Stratton paused.

"Yes, but what good'll that do with two able-bodied men set on getting in?

There isn't a door or shutter that wouldn't--"

"Two!" gasped Bud. "You didn't say--"

"Didn't I? It was just at the end. She was telling me about seeing the face and locking up the house. Then all at once she broke off." Buck's tone was calmer now, but it was the hard-won calm of determined will, and every now and then there quivered through it a faint, momentary note that told eloquently of the mingled dread and fury that were tearing his nerves to pieces. "I asked what was the matter and she said to wait a minute. It seemed like she stopped to listen for something. Then all of a sudden she cried out that some one was riding up."

"It--it might not have been any of the gang," murmured Bud, voicing a hope he did not feel.

"Who else would be likely to come at this time of night?" demanded Stratton. "Lynch is on the outs with everybody around Perilla. They don't go near the ranch unless they have to. It couldn't have been one of Hardenberg's men; he's not expecting any one."

"Did--did she say anything else?" asked Jessup, after a brief pause.

Buck hesitated. "Only that she--was afraid, and wanted us to--come quickly. Then the wire went dead as if it had been cut."

Silence fell, broken only by the thud of hoofs and the heavy breathing of the two horses. Bud's slim, lithe figure had slumped a little in the saddle, and his eyes were fixed unseeingly on the wide, flat sweep of prairie unfolding before them, dim and mysterious under the brilliant stars.

In his mind anxiety, rage, and apprehension contended with a dull, dead hopelessness which lay upon his heart like lead. For something in Buck's tone made him realize in a flash a situation which, strangely, he had never even suspected. He wondered dully why he hadn't ever thought of it before; perhaps because Buck was a new-comer who had seemed to see so little of Mary Thorne. Probably, also, the very friendly manner of Stella Manning had something to do with Jessup's blindness. But his eyes were opened now, thoroughly and effectually, and for a s.p.a.ce, how long or short he never knew, he fought out his silent battle.

It ended in a victory. Down in his heart he knew that he had never really had any hope of winning Mary Thorne himself. He had cherished aspirations, of course, and dreamed wonderful dreams; but when it came down to hard actualities, romance did not blind him to the fact that she looked on him merely as a friend and nothing more. Indeed, though they were virtually of the same age, he had been aware at times of an oddly maternal note in her att.i.tude toward him which was discouraging. Still, it was not easy definitely to relinquish all hope and bring himself to write "finis" to the end of the chapter. Indeed, he did not reach that state of mind until, glancing sidewise at his friend, there came to him a sudden, faintly bitter realization of the wide contrast between them, and of how much more Buck had to offer than himself.

Stratton's erect, broad shoulders, the lean length of him, the way he held his head, gave Jessup a curious, unexpected impression of strength and ability and power. Buck's eyes were set straight ahead and his clean-cut profile, clearly visible in the luminous starlight, had a look of sensitiveness and refinement, despite the strength of his jaw and chin and the somberness of his eyes. Bud turned away with a little sigh.

"I never had no chance at all," he thought. "Someway he don't look like a cow-puncher, nor talk quite like one. I wonder why?"

Half a mile further on Buck suddenly broke the prolonged silence.

"I've been thinking it over," he said briefly. "The man on the horse was probably Lynch. He could easily have started off with the rest and then made a circuit around below the ranch-house. If he picked his ground, we'd never notice where he left the others, especially as we weren't looking for anything of the sort."

"Who do you s'pose hid over the harness-room?"

"It might have been Slim, or Kreeger, or even Pedro. The whole thing was certainly a put-up job--d.a.m.n them!" His voice shook with sudden pa.s.sion.

"Well, we'll soon know," he finished, and his mouth clamped shut.

Already the row of cottonwoods that lined the creek was faintly visible ahead, a low, vague ma.s.s, darker a little than the background of blue-black sky. Both spurred their jaded horses and a moment or two later pulled up with a jerk at the gate. Before his mount had come to a standstill, Bud was out of his saddle fumbling with the catch. When he swung it open, Stratton dashed through, swiftly crossed the shallow creek, and galloped up the long, easy slope beyond.