The Delafield Affair Part 16

He scrambled to his feet and looked around. Not nearly so many men were stretched on the ground as he had expected to see, and his friend was not in sight. He looked for his saddle-bags, where he kept his flask.

Conrad had taken them from the horse when they unsaddled, and Pendleton had not noticed what he did with them. He could not find the bags, everybody left in camp was sound asleep, and Curtis had disappeared.

Wrapped in his blanket he was wandering around forlornly, squirming with pain, when he saw some one moving in the group of horses farther down the hill. He started in that direction and saw the man stoop beside Conrad's mare, Brown Betty.

"h.e.l.lo, pard! Where's Curt?" Pendleton called loudly. The man straightened up quickly, and put away a knife. He looked at the curious figure coming toward him, and burst into a loud guffaw. "Gee whillikens, stranger! where'd you drop from?" he shouted back.

Pendleton explained, and asked the other to help him find his saddle-bags. They were discovered in the chuck-wagon, and the invalid offered his flask, with a cordial admonition to "drink hearty, pard."

The cowboy responded literally, and made several other visits to the saddle-bags before breakfast. By that time he was good-naturedly obstreperous, and had the camp in an uproar with his horse-play and noisy pranks. Conrad asked Peters where Andy got his whiskey. The foreman did not know, and said that this was the first time he had shown any signs of drink. The superintendent went to Pendleton.

"Has Andy Miller been taking a pull at your flask?"

"The cow-punch that's feeling so happy? Sure, Curt. He helped me find my saddle-bags, and I thought I'd be sociable with him. I told him to drink hearty; and by thunder, Curt! you ought to have seen him. He sure had a worse thirst on him than I had yesterday."

"I'll have to ask you not to do it again with any of them. And you'd better let me put your flask in a locked box I have in the chuck-wagon, if you don't carry it in your pocket, or you may not have any left by night."

Gonzalez came up with a question, and Conrad remembered the letter he had for him. The Mexican took it with an unconcerned face, and went off behind the chuck-wagon. "I don't need to see the inside of it," thought Curtis; "but I'd like to all the same. Well, he'll be all right now, and I'm glad of it, for I'd hate to have to kill as good a roper as he is."

A few minutes later Jose strolled toward the cook's fire, twisting the letter in his fingers. He was about to thrust it into the coals when Andy Miller jumped at him with a yell, and caught his hand. "Here, boys; Jose's got a love letter! Let's read it!" he shouted. Gonzalez resisted; Miller bore him down; and they rolled, struggling, over the ground.

Jose's dark face was pale with anger and his teeth were set as he gripped the bit of paper in one fist and pummelled Andy's face with the other. Miller tried to shield himself from the blows with his arms, while he bent his energies to getting possession of the letter.

"You're fightin', Andy; don't fergit to punch!" yelled Nosey Ike from the group of cowboys looking on. Miller was the stronger of the two, and almost had the Mexican in his power when Conrad came beside them, saying, "If you want the letter burned, Jose, give it to me."

Gonzalez cast at him one doubtful, desperate look, and threw the twisted paper toward him. The superintendent thrust it in the fire, and he and Peters separated the two men. Gonzalez flashed at him a look of grat.i.tude and walked away without a word.

"Andy," said Conrad, "you're making too much trouble this morning. If you want to work with this outfit you've got to keep straight. If you don't want to do that you can pull your freight right now."

The man turned away sullenly. "I'm not ready to pull my freight yet," he muttered. The other cowboys were saddling their ponies and making ready to begin the day's work. The bunched cattle, with the red rays of the morning sun warm upon their backs, were quietly grazing a little way down the hillside. Andy Miller started toward his horse, but turned and ran rapidly at the cattle. No one noticed what he was doing until, in a moment more, he was jumping, yelling, and swinging his hat at the edge of the herd. Snorting with sudden surprise and fright, the beasts were away again as though fiends were at their tails. Conrad rushed for his horse, but Peters, already mounted, yelled that they would not need him; and the foreman, with half a dozen others, dashed after the stampede.

Andy Miller was coming slowly back, now and then stopping to smite his thigh and laugh. Curtis walked out to meet him. "Andy," he said, "I reckon I don't need you any longer. You can take your time this morning.

Here's your money."

The cowboy looked up, grinning, and thrust the bills in his pocket.

Then, as quickly and lightly as a cat, he sprang upon the superintendent and pulled him down. Conrad, taken completely by surprise, with his left arm in a sling and at something less than his best of strength, for a moment could do nothing but struggle in the other's grasp. Miller was holding him, face downward, across one advanced leg, when Pendleton, still wrapped in his blanket, bustled up to see what was happening. With upraised hand, Miller yelled:

"Now, then, you'll get it back, every darn' spank, an' more too! Jenkins ain't big enough to spank you himself, but I can do it for him!" His hand descended, but into an enveloping blanket suddenly thrown over him from behind, m.u.f.fling head, body, and arms.

"I've got him, Curt! Get up, quick, and we'll do him up!" shouted the tenderfoot as he twisted the blanket around Andy's struggling figure.

Conrad wrenched himself free and sprang up, his face white. "Let him up, Pendy," he said, drawing his revolver. The other unwound the blanket, and Miller scrambled out, blinking and cursing. "You make tracks out of this camp as fast as you can go," said Curtis, "and don't let me catch you within gunshot of this outfit again! Clear out, this minute, d.a.m.n you!"

Miller walked away in silence toward his staked horse, the two men following him part way down the hill.

"He'd better clear out before the boys get back, if he wants to keep a sound neck," said Conrad, his revolver in hand and his eyes on the retreating cowboy. "I understand it all now. And it was a lucky thing, Pendy, that you gave him that whiskey this morning; it got him just drunk enough to show his hand. If it hadn't been for that I might not have caught on till he'd done the Lord knows how much mischief. It's just like that d.a.m.ned skunk, Jenkins, to go at it in this sneaking, underhand way. He's not through with me yet!"

They watched while Miller saddled his horse, hung his rope at the saddle-horn, and mounted. Then they turned back toward the camp, but presently, at a whinny from Brown Betty, Curtis faced about. Miller had ridden to where she was standing, a little apart from the other horses, had leaped to the ground, and was making toward her hind-quarters. His body was in profile, and as he stretched out his arm Conrad saw the flash of sunlight upon a knife blade. Instantly his arm swung upward, and there was an answering flash from the muzzle of his revolver. The report boomed across the valley, and Andy's right arm dropped. He rushed toward them, yelling foul names, but halted when he saw the pistol levelled at his breast.

"No more tricks, Andy," called the superintendent, "or it'll be through your heart next time. Git, right now!"

From up the valley came the shouts of the men. They had turned the cattle and were hurrying them back to camp. Miller cast one quick glance in their direction, and leaped to his saddle. He made a wide detour, the tail of his eye on Conrad's gun, and galloped away on the road over which the outfit had come. The others trooped up where Curtis and Pendleton, at the top of the hill, were watching his lessening figure.

"Boys," said the ranchman, "that's the chap that's been stampeding the cattle!" Peters swore a mouth-filling oath and smote his thigh. "He was just on the point of ham-stringing Brown Betty," Curtis went on, his eyes blazing, "and I put a bullet through his arm barely in time to prevent it."

A light broke upon Pendleton. "Darn my skin, if that wasn't the trick the critter was up to this morning, when he saw me and stopped!"

"Let's go after him, boys!" shouted Peters. The group of riders shot forward, like racers starting at the word, and thundered down the road after the culprit. Conrad looked after them grimly, his eyes flashing blue fire, and Pendleton, wrapped in his blanket again, danced about and yelled, "Go it, boys, go it! I wish I was with you!"

For an hour they chased him. He, knowing what his fate would be if he fell into their hands, put spurs to his horse until he brought out its utmost speed. Having so much the start he kept well in the lead, and finally they gave it up and returned to camp.

With his left arm still in a sling and his shoulder bandaged, Conrad kept at the head of the round-up, which went on without further accident. He was too busy to think of the pain, except at night, when it often kept him awake. At such times his mind was sure to busy itself, sooner or later, with the trailing of Delafield, reaching out in every direction for some clew to guide his next step. By some trick of subconscious mental action, thoughts of Lucy Bancroft began to intrude upon his mind when it was thus engaged. It pleased him well enough to think of Lucy at other times, of her bright, piquant face, of the positive opinions she was in the habit of p.r.o.nouncing with that independent little toss of her curly head, and of her dimpling smiles.

But it annoyed him that the thought of her should come into conflict with his one absorbing idea. And, just because he had been consciously disturbed by it twice or thrice, a.s.sociation of ideas brought back the image more and more frequently. Once, when he had been vainly wooing sleep for an hour, he caught himself wondering what Lucy would say about the Delafield affair. He muttered an angry oath at himself, and with a mighty effort put both subjects out of his mind. It was not until they reached Pelham, the railway station whence the cattle were to be shipped, that his shoulder became free enough from pain for him to sink into sleep as soon as he lay down; and thereafter his mind forbore its irritating trick.

During all that time, although Conrad did not believe he had anything to fear from Jose Gonzalez, he never left his revolver out of easy reach, and never turned his back upon the Mexican. But Gonzalez kept on his way as calmly and apparently as unconsciously as if he had had no part in that episode beside the pool at Rock Springs. Near the end of the shipping Curtis asked him if he would like steady work at the ranch.

The Mexican gave a little astonished start and cast at the superintendent a glance of suspicion. Conrad frowned and his eyes flashed. Then he grinned good-naturedly, showing his strong white teeth under his sunburned moustache. "That's all right, Jose. I'm not that sort. As long as you behave yourself I'm your friend. If you don't, I've told you what will happen. You've struck my gait in the cow business, and I want to keep you. If you want to stay you can understand right now that you run no risks, unless you make 'em yourself."

Gonzalez threw at him a keen glance. "You know I have nothing against you, Don Curtis," he began, hesitating a moment before he went on; "I like to work for you very well, senor, and I will stay."

CHAPTER XVI

A DOUBLE BLUFF

Alexander Bancroft read Conrad's defiant letter, duly forwarded by his Boston attorneys, with a nearer approach to desperation than he had known in years. He had hoped so much from that money; and it had been thrown away! The man was inflexible, and to attempt to turn him from his deadly purpose by peaceful means would be a waste of time. And time was precious, for, now that he and his detective knew so much, one clew that they might discover any day would throw the door wide open. He must be foiled before he had time to make another move. Bancroft laid on his desk the letter he had been reading, feeling to the bottom of his heart that he would be justified in taking any course that would halt the feet of his pursuer.

A clerk came to ask his presence in the outer room, and he went out hastily, intending to return at once. But a man with business in which both were interested awaited him, and after a moment's conversation they went to find a third who was concerned in the same matter.

They had only just gone when Lucy came in and asked for her father. She looked sweet and dainty in a white gown with a wide white hat tied under her chin, her curls cl.u.s.tering around a face all aglow with warm browns and rich reds. The clerk who pressed forward with pleased alacrity to answer her question was one of her ardent admirers. Mr. Bancroft had just gone out, probably for only a few minutes; wouldn't she wait? It was of no consequence, she said; she only wished to see if he had any mail for her. But she looked disappointed, and the clerk suggested that as he had left his office door unlocked she might go in and wait. She saw a pile of unopened letters on her father's desk and glanced through it, finding two for Miss Dent and one for herself. "I'll just sit here and read mine," she thought, "and maybe daddy will be back by that time."

A little gust of wind came through the open window, blowing a sheet of paper from the desk to the floor. Her eye caught the signature as she picked it up. "Curtis Conrad!" she read. "Oh, how like him his writing looks!" she exclaimed, a wave of color surging into her cheeks. "Why, it seems as if I just knew it would be like this! How easy it is to read!"

She was looking at the letter, her attention absorbed in the fact that it had come from Conrad's own hand, when Delafield's name stood out from the other words.

"Delafield! Sumner L. Delafield! I remember that name. It's the name of the man that ruined his father--why, it's a receipt for that money! How does daddy happen to have it?" Her eyes ran eagerly along the lines.

"It's just like him! I'm glad he wouldn't take the money! What a horrid, wicked man that Delafield must be! I wonder how daddy happens to have this letter, when it was written to Tremper & Townsend, in Boston!" Her glance fell on the torn envelope bearing the imprint of the Boston firm, addressed to her father, and thence to their letter beside it. With mind intent upon the bewildering problem her eyes rushed over the brief missive:

"As you requested, we deposited your check for five hundred dollars to our account, and forwarded our check for the same amount to Mr.

Curtis Conrad. We enclose his letter in receipt, which he evidently wishes sent on to you."

Lucy dropped the sheet of paper and sprang to her feet, her mind awhirl with protest. No, no! this could not be meant for her father--he was not Delafield--it was impossible! But--something clutched at her throat, and her head swam. She must go home; she must think out the puzzle. Sudden unwillingness to meet her father seized her. He must not know she had been there, that she had seen anything. She was not yet thinking coherently, only feeling that she had thoughtlessly surprised some secret, which had sprung out at her like a jack-in-the-box, and that she must give no sign of having seen its face.

She sped homeward, her brain in a turmoil, and it was not until she had shut herself in her room that she began to think clearly. A troop of recollections, disjointed, half-forgotten bits and ends of things swarmed upon her. The shock had roused her mind to unusual activity, and little things long past, forgotten for years, again came vividly into her memory.

So suddenly that it made her catch her breath there flashed upon her the recollection of how once, when she was a tiny child, some one had halted beside her mother and herself in a city street and exclaimed "Mrs.

Delafield!" Her mother had hurried on without noticing the salutation, and had satisfied her curiosity afterward by explaining that the person was a stranger who had mistaken her for somebody else. But Lucy had thought the name a pretty one and used it in her play, pretending that she had a little playmate so called. Their wanderings during her childhood came back to her, when they had gone often from one place to another, at first in Canada, afterward always in the West. Much of the time she and her mother were alone, but her father came occasionally to spend with them a few days or weeks. Her devotion to him dated from those early years, when she thought so much about him during his long absences, wished so ardently for his return, and enjoyed his visits with unalloyed delight.

With new significance came the recollection of the beginning for them of the name of Bancroft. While she was still a little girl her mother had told her their name would no longer be Brown, but Bancroft, because they had been allowed to change it. She had liked the new name much better, had accepted it with the unquestioning acquiescence of childhood, and the old name had soon become but a dim memory.