The Coming of the Law Part 14

Nellie Hazelton had given him what care she could out of her limited knowledge and now nothing more could be done until the arrival of the Cimarron doctor. Swathed in bandages, his clothing torn and soiled--as though after beating him his a.s.sailants had dragged him through the mud--one hand queerly twisted, his face swollen, his whole great body looking as though it had received the maximum of injury, Hollis moved restlessly on the bed, his head rolling oddly from side to side, incoherent words issuing from between his bruised and swollen lips.

Norton stood beside the bed, looking down at the injured man with a grim, savage pity.

"The d.a.m.ned cowards!" he said, his voice quivering. "There must have been a dozen of them--to do him up like that!"

"Seven," returned Ed Hazelton grimly. "They left their trail there; I counted the hoof prints, an' they led down the slope toward Big Elk crossin'." He looked at Norton with a frown. "We can't do anything here," he said shortly, "until the doctor comes. I'll take you down where I found him."

They went out and mounted their ponies. Down the trail a mile or so they came to a level that led away toward Rabbit-Ear Creek. From the level they could see the Circle Cross buildings, scattered over a small stretch of plain on the opposite side of the river. There was no life around them, no movement. Norton grimaced toward them.

Hazelton halted his pony in some tall gra.s.s near a bare, sandy spot on the plains. The gra.s.s here grew only in patches and Norton could plainly see a number of hoof prints in the sand. One single set led away across the plains toward the Dry Bottom trail. Seeing the knowing expression in Norton's eyes, Hazelton spoke quietly.

"That's Hollis's trail. He must have took the Dry Bottom trail an' lost it in the storm. Potter says he would probably take it because it's shorter. Anyways, it's his trail; I followed it back into the hills until I was sure. I saw that he had been comin' from Dry Bottom. He lost his way an' rode over here. I remember there was an awful darkness, for I was out scoutin' around to see if my stock was all right. Well, he got this far--rode right up to the edge of the b.u.t.te over there an' then come back this way. Then he met--well, the men that did it."

"They all stood there for a little while; you can see where their horses pawed. Then mebbe they started somethin', for you can see where Hollis's pony throwed up a lot of sand, tryin' to break out. The others were in a circle--you can see that. I've figured it out that Hollis saw there wasn't any chance for him against so many an' he tried to hit the breeze away from here. I'll show you."

They followed the hoof prints down the slope and saw that all the riders must have been traveling fast at this point, for the earth was cut and the hoof prints bunched fore and aft. They ran only a little way, however. About a hundred yards down the slope, in a stretch of bare, sandy soil, the horses had evidently come to a halt again, for they were bunched well together and there were many of them, showing that there had been some movement after the halt.

Norton dismounted and examined the surrounding soil.

"They all got off here," he said shortly, after the examination; "there's the prints of their boots. They caught him here and handed it to him."

Hazelton silently pointed to a queer track in the sand--a shallow groove running about fifty feet, looking as though some heavy object had been drawn over it. Norton's face whitened.

"Drug him!" he said grimly, his lips in two straight lines. "It's likely they roped him!" He remounted his pony and sat in the saddle, watching Hazelton as the latter continued his examination. "They're a fine, nervy bunch!" he sneered as Hazelton also climbed into his saddle. "They must have piled onto him like a pack of wolves. If they'd have come one at a time he'd have cleaned them up proper!"

They rode away down the trail toward the cabin. Norton went in and looked again at Hollis, and then, telling Hazelton that he would return in the afternoon, he departed for the Circle Bar. He stopped at the ranchhouse and communicated the news to his wife and Potter and then rode on up the river to a point about ten miles from the ranchhouse--where the outfit was working.

The men received his news with expressions of rage and vengeance. They had come to admire Hollis for his courage in electing to continue the fight against Dunlavey; they had seen that in spite of his ignorance of the customs of their world he possessed a goodly store of common sense and an indomitable spirit. Yet none of them expressed sympathy, though their faces showed that they felt it. Expressions of sympathy in a case such as this would have been unnecessary and futile. But their expressions of rage showed how the news had affected them. Though they knew that Dunlavey's forces outnumbered their own they were for striking back immediately. But Norton discouraged this.

"We're layin' low for a while," he said. "Mebbe the boss will get well.

If he does he'll make things mighty interestin' for Dunlavey--likely he'll remember who was in the crowd which beat him up. If he dies----"

His eyes flashed savagely. "Well, if he dies you boys can go as far as you like an' I'll go with you without doin' any kickin'."

"What's goin' to be done with that noospaper of his'n?" inquired Ace.

"You reckon she'll miss fire till he's well again?"

Norton's brows wrinkled; he had not thought of the newspaper. But he realized now that if the paper failed to appear on scheduled time the people in Union County would think that Hollis had surrendered; they would refuse to believe that he had been so badly injured that he could not issue the paper, and Dunlavey would be careful to circulate some sort of a story to encourage this view. Now that Ace had brought the matter to his attention he began to suspect that this had been the reason of the attack on Hollis. That they had not killed him when they had the opportunity, showed that they must have had some purpose other than that of merely desiring to get him out of the way. That they had merely beaten him showed that their wish was only to incapacitate him temporarily. Norton's eyes flashed with a sudden determination.

"I don't reckon that the _Kicker_ will miss fire," he declared; "not if I have to go to Dry Bottom an' get her out myself!"

Ace eyed him furtively and now spoke with an embarra.s.sed self-consciousness.

"I've been considerin' this here situation ever since you told us about the boss," he said diffidently, "an' if you're goin' to get that paper out, a little poem or two might help out considerable."

"Meanin'?" interrogated Norton, his eyelashes flickering.

Ace's face reddened painfully. "Meanin' that I've got several little pieces which I've wrote when I didn't have anything else to do an' that I'd be right willin' to have them put into the _Kicker_ to help fill her up. Some of the boys think they're right cla.s.sy."

Norton looked around at the other men for confirmation of the truth of this modest statement. He caught Lanky's glance.

"I reckon that's about right," said that sober-faced puncher; "Ace is the pote lariat of this here outfit, an' he sure has got a lot of right clever lines in his pomes. I've read them which wasn't one-two-three with his'n."

Norton smiled, a little cynically. He wasn't quite sure about it, he said, but if Ace could write poetry he hadn't any doubt that during the next few weeks there would be plenty of opportunity to print some of it in the Kicker. He smiled when he saw Ace's face brighten. But he told him he would have to see Hollis--if the latter got well enough to endure an interview. If the boss recovered enough to be able to look at Ace's poetry before it was printed, why of course it would have to be shown him. He didn't want anything to go into the _Kicker_ which the boss wouldn't like. But if he wasn't able to look at it, why he would leave the decision to Potter, and if it suited the latter he would be satisfied. He would keep the boys posted on the boss's condition. Then he rode away toward the ranchhouse.

Late in the afternoon he again visited the Hazelton cabin. He found the Cimarron doctor already there. Hollis was still unconscious, though resting easier. The doctor declared that he would remain with him throughout the night. He followed Norton out on to the porch and told him that at present he could not tell just how serious Hollis's injuries were. There was a great wound in his head which he feared might turn out seriously, but if not, Hollis would recover quickly and be as good as ever within a few weeks--except for his left wrist--which was broken. He praised Nellie Hazelton for the care she was giving the injured man.

Convinced that there was nothing more to be done, Norton returned to the Circle Bar to give his attention to his work.

CHAPTER XIII

"WOMAN--SHE DON'T NEED NO TOOTER"

The Cimarron doctor's fears for the wound on Hollis's head had proved unfounded and on the tenth day after his experience on the night of the storm, Hollis was sitting on the Hazelton porch, his head still swathed in bandages, his left wrist in a splint, but his spirit still untouched.

The marks on his face had all disappeared, except an ugly gash under his right eye--which still showed a slight discoloration--and a smaller cut on the chin. The Cimarron doctor had told him that the wound under his eye would leave a permanent scar--the wound had been deep and in spite of the doctor's care, had drawn together queerly, affecting the eye itself and giving it an odd expression. Many times since becoming able to move about had Hollis looked at his face in his mirror, and each time there had come into his eyes an expression that boded ill for the men who had been concerned in the attack on him.

It was mid-afternoon and the sun was coming slant-wise over the roof of the cabin, creating a welcome shade on the porch. Ed Hazelton had been gone since morning, looking after his cattle, and Nellie was in the house, busily at work in the kitchen--Hollis could hear her as she stepped about the room.

Norton had left the cabin an hour before and a little later Potter had stopped in on his way over to Dry Bottom to set up an article that he had written at Hollis's dictation. Hollis had told Norton of his experiences on the night of the storm.

After the flash of lightning had revealed Dunlavey and his men, Hollis had attempted to escape, knowing that Dunlavey's intentions could not be peaceable, and that he would have no chance in a fight with several men.

He had urged his pony toward the two b.u.t.tes that he had seen during the lightning flash, making a circuit in order to evade his enemies. He might have succeeded, but unfortunately the darkness had lifted and they had been able to intercept him. He could give no clear account of what had happened after they had surrounded him. There had been no words spoken. He had tried to break out of the circle; had almost succeeded when a loop settled over his shoulders and he was dragged from his pony--dragged quite a distance.

The fall had hurt him, but when the rope had slackened he had regained his feet--to see that all the men had surrounded him. One man struck at him and he had immediately struck back, knocking the man down. After that the blows came thick and fast. He hit several more faces that were close to him and at one time was certain he had put three of his a.s.sailants out of the fight. But the others had crowded him close. He fought them as well as he could with the great odds against him, and once was inspired with a hope that he might escape. Then had come a heavy blow on the head--he thought that one of the men had used the b.u.t.t of a revolver. He could dimly remember receiving a number of other blows and then he knew nothing more until he had awakened in the Hazelton cabin.

Hollis's opinion of Dunlavey's motive in thus attacking him coincided with Norton's. They might easily have killed him. That they did not showed that they must have some peculiar motive. Aside from a perfectly natural desire on Dunlavey's part to deal to Hollis the same sort of punishment that Hollis had inflicted on Dunlavey on the occasion of their first meeting, the latter could have no motive other than that of preventing the appearance of the _Kicker_ on its regular publication day.

Hollis was convinced that Dunlavey had been inspired by both motives.

But though Dunlavey had secured his revenge for the blow that Hollis had struck him in Dry Bottom, Hollis did not purpose to allow him to prevent the appearance of the _Kicker_. It had been impossible for him to make the trip to Dry Bottom, but he had summoned Potter and had dictated considerable copy, Potter had written some, and in this manner they had managed to get the _Kicker_ out twice.

Ace had not been able to get any of his poems into the _Kicker_. He had submitted some of them to Potter, but the printer had a.s.sured him that he did not care to a.s.sume the responsibility of publishing them.

Thereupon Ace had importuned Norton to intercede with Hollis on his behalf. On his visit this morning Norton had brought the matter to Hollis's attention. The latter had a.s.sured the range boss that he appreciated the puncher's interest and would be glad to go over some of his poems. Therefore Hollis was not surprised when in the afternoon he saw Ace loping his pony down the Coyote trail toward the Hazelton cabin.

Ace's approach was diffident, though ambition urged him on. He rode up to the edge of the porch, dismounted, and greeted his boss with an earnestness that contrasted oddly with his embarra.s.sment. He took the chair that Hollis motioned him to, sitting on the edge of it and shifting nervously under Hollis's direct gaze.

"I reckon Norton told you about my poems," he began. He caught Hollis's nod and continued: "Well, I got a bunch of 'em here which I brung over to show you. Folks back home used to say that I was a genyus. But I reckon mebbe they was. .h.i.ttin' her up a little bit strong," he admitted, modestly; "folks is that way--they like to spread it on a bit. But"--and the eyes of the genius flashed proudly--"I reckon I've got a little talyunt, the evidence of which is right here!" With rather more composure than had marked his approach he now drew out a prodigious number of sheets of paper, which he proceeded to spread out on his knee, smoothing them lovingly.

"Mebbe I ain't much on spellin' an' grammar an' all that sort of thing,"

he offered, "but there's a heap of sense to be got out of the stuff I've wrote. Take this one, for instance. She's a little oday to 'Night,'

which I composed while the boys was poundin' their ears one night--not bein' affected in their feelin's like I was. If you ain't got no objections I'll read her." And then, not waiting to hear any objections, he began:

The stars are bright to-night; They surely are a sight, Sendin' their flickerin' light From an awful, unknown height.

Why do they shine so bright?

I'm most o'ercome with fright----

"Of course I reely wasn't scared," he offered with a deprecatory smile, "but there wasn't any other word that I could think of just then an' so I shoved her in. It rhymes anyhow an' just about says what I wanted."