The Cattle-Baron's Daughter Part 18

Grant turned to the prisoner. "There's nothing that would warrant our showing any mercy, but if you have anything to urge we'll listen now. It's your last opportunity. You were heading for one of the cattle-men's homesteads?"

The man smiled sardonically. "I'm not going to talk," he said. "I guess I can see your faces, and that's enough for me."

Grant stood up and signed to a man, who led the prisoner away. Then, he looked at the others questioningly, and a Michigan axe-man nodded.

"Only one thing," he said. "It has to be done."

There was an approving murmur, and Grant glanced along the row of stern faces. "Yes," he said, "the law will do nothing for us--the cattle-men have bought it up; but this work must be stopped. Well, I guess you like what lies before us as little as I do, but if it warns off the others--and there are more of his kind coming in--it's the most merciful thing."

Once more the low murmur ran through the silence of the room; Grant raised his hand and a man brought in the prisoner. He looked at the set faces, and made a little gesture of comprehension.

"I guess you needn't tell me," he said. "When is it to be?"

"To-morrow," said Grant, and it seemed to Breckenridge that his voice came from far away. "At the town--as soon as there is light enough to see by."

The prisoner turned without a word, and when he had gone the men, as if prompted by one impulse, hastened out of the room, leaving Grant and Breckenridge alone. The former sat very still at the head of the table, until Breckenridge laid his hand on his shoulder.

"Shake it off, Larry. You couldn't have done anything else," he said.

"No," said Grant, with a groan. "Still, I could have wished this duty had not been laid on me."

When they next stood side by side the early daylight was creeping across the little railroad town, and Breckenridge, whose young face was white, shivered with more than the bitter cold. He never wished to recall it, but the details of that scene would return to him--the square frame houses under the driving snow-cloud, the white waste they rose from, the grim, silent hors.e.m.e.n with the rifles across their saddles, and the intent faces beyond them in the close-packed street. He saw the prisoner standing rigidly erect in a wagon drawn up beside a towering telegraph-pole, and heard a voice reading hoa.r.s.ely.

A man raised his hand, somebody lashed the horses, the wagon lurched away, a dusky object cut against the sky, and Breckenridge turned his eyes away.

A sound that might have been a groan or murmur broke from the crowd and the momentary silence that followed it was rent by the crackle of riflery.

After that, Breckenridge only recollected riding across the prairie amidst a group of silent men, and feeling very cold.

In the meanwhile the citizens were gazing at a board nailed to the telegraph-pole: "For murder and robbery. Take warning! Anyone offending in the same way will be treated similarly!"

XI

LARRY'S ACQUITTAL

A warm wind from the Pacific, which had swept down through the Rockies'

pa.s.ses, had mitigated the Arctic cold, and the snow lay no more than thinly sprinkled upon the prairie. Hetty Torrance and Miss Schuyler were riding up through the birch bluff from the bridge of the Cedar. It was dim among the trees, for dusk was closing in, the trail was rough and steep, and Hetty drew bridle at a turn of it.

"I quite fancied we would have been home before it was dark, and my father would be just savage if he knew we were out alone," she said. "Of course, he wouldn't have let us go if he had been at Cedar."

Flora Schuyler looked about her with a shiver. The wind that shook the birches had grown perceptibly colder: the gloom beneath them deepened rapidly, and there was a doleful wailing amidst the swinging boughs.

Beyond the bluff the white wilderness, sinking into dimness now, ran back, waste and empty, to the horizon. Miss Schuyler was from the cities, and the loneliness of the prairie is most impressive when night is closing down.

"Then one could have wished he had been at home," she said.

Perhaps Hetty did not hear her plainly, for the branches thrashed above them just then. "Oh, that's quite right. Folks are not apt to worry much over the things they don't know about," she said.

"It was not your father I was sorry for," Flora Schuyler said sharply.

"The sod is too hard for fast riding, and it will be 'most an hour yet before we get home. I wish we were not alone, Hetty."

Hetty sighed. "It was so convenient once!" she said. "Whenever I wanted to ride out I had only to send for Larry. It's quite different now."

"I have no doubt Mr. Clavering would have come," said Miss Schuyler.

"Oh, yes," Hetty agreed. "Still, I'm beginning to fancy you were right about that man. Like a good many more of them, he's quite nice at a distance; but there are men who should never let anyone get too close to them."

"You have had quite a few opportunities of observing him at a short distance lately."

Hetty laughed, but there was a trace of uneasiness in her voice. "I could wish my father didn't seem quite so fond of him. Oh--there's somebody coming!"

Instinctively she wheeled her horse into the deeper shadow of the birches and Miss Schuyler followed. There was no habitation within a league of them, and though the frost, which put a period to the homesteaders'

activities, lessened the necessity for the cattle-barons' watchfulness, unpleasant results had once or twice attended a chance encounter between their partisans. It was also certain that somebody was coming, and Hetty felt her heart beat as she made out the tramp of three horses. The vultures the struggle had attracted had, she knew, much less consideration for women than the homesteaders or cattle-boys.

"Hadn't we better ride on?" asked Miss Schuyler.

"No," said Hetty; "they would most certainly see us out on the prairie.

Back your horse quite close to mine. If we keep quiet they might pa.s.s us here."

Her voice betrayed what she was feeling, and Flora Schuyler felt unpleasantly apprehensive as she urged her horse farther into the gloom.

The trampling came nearer, and by and by a man's voice reached her.

"Hadn't you better pull up and get down?" it said. "I'm not much use at tracking, but somebody has been along here a little while ago. You see, there are only three of us!"

"They're homesteaders, and they've found our trail," exclaimed Hetty, with a little gasp of dismay.

There was scarcely an opening one could ride through between the birches behind them, and it was evident that the hors.e.m.e.n could scarcely fail to see them the moment they left their shelter. One of them had already dismounted, and was apparently stooping beside the prints the horse-hoofs had left where a little snow had sifted down upon the trail. Hetty heard his laugh, and it brought her a great relief.

"I don't think you need worry, Breckenridge. There were only two of them."

Hetty wheeled her horse. "It's Larry," she said.

A minute later he saw them, and, pulling up, took off his hat; but Flora Schuyler noticed that he ventured on no more than this.

"It is late for you to be out alone. You are riding home?" he said.

"Of course!" said Hetty with, Miss Schuyler fancied, a chilliness which contrasted curiously with the relief she had shown a minute or two earlier.

"Well," said Grant quietly, "I'm afraid you will have to put up with our company. There are one or two men I have no great opinion of somewhere about this prairie. This is Mr. Breckenridge, and as the trail is rough and narrow, he will follow with Miss Schuyler. I presume you don't mind riding with him, although, like the rest of us, he is under the displeasure of your friends the cattle-barons?"

Miss Schuyler looked at him steadily. "I don't know enough of this trouble to make sure who is right," she said. "But I should never be prejudiced against any American who was trying to do what he felt was the work meant for him."

"Well," said Grant, with a little laugh, "Breckenridge will feel sorry that he's an Englishman."

Miss Schuyler turned to the young man graciously, and the dim light showed there was a twinkle in her eyes.

"That," she said, "is the next best thing. Since you are with Mr. Grant you no doubt came out to this country because you thought we needed reforming, Mr. Breckenridge?"