The Mesa Trail Part 9

Ben Aimes went to the telephone and called up the sheriff at Silver City.

"This is Aimes at Zacaton, Bill," he said. "A queer guy just blew in here to-night with a grand souse and is sleeping it off now. You know old lady Crump, don't you? Heard of her at any rate. Well, he says that she's out in the hills a piece with two other fellers. These two were run out o' Magdalena last month for talking agin' the gov'ment and they're said to be dangerous characters. The place is north o' the bad lands, over in Socorro County.

"The p'int is, Bill, this here guy says they've got heap o' dynamite and such stuff out there. Them two anarchists ought to be prevented usin'

it; according to this guy, they got no licenses and never heard o' the new license law. This here is plumb illegal and you'd ought to stop it.

Both these fellers are I. W. W. organizers, he says, and prob'ly are German spies; this guy talked with a queer kind of accent.

"No, I wouldn't think it o' Mrs. Crump, neither, but you never can tell these days. What's that? Well, I got the location pretty straight from this guy. Yep, a car can make it; he come into town that way. Get up on the night train and you can take my car out there. Sure, I'll meet the train. You're welcome."

This pleasant duty finished, Aimes dispatched a lengthy telegram to Abel Dorales at Santa Fe. He then summoned the constable in search of Thady Shea. But Shea had vanished from human ken, although the dust-white flivver remained in the garage.

Bright and early next morning Aimes departed in his automobile, went to the railroad and met the sheriff, and brought that official back to town. The hardware merchant was pressed into service as a deputy, and the sheriff took over Aimes' car.

"I'd like to go along myself," said Aimes, regretfully, "but I got to 'tend the garridge myself to-day account of my mechanic hurting himself last night and being laid up. Tell ye what, Bill! Why not take the whole crowd right down to Silver City? It'll save ye comin' back here, and your new deppity yonder can fetch the car back here. Sure, you're dead welcome! I ain't got no use for the car anyhow."

To this arrangement the sheriff consented gladly, and Aimes watched them depart with a twinkle in his eye. Before Mrs. Crump could possibly return from Silver City, to say nothing of her two men, Abel Dorales would be on the spot to take charge of things. Aimes considered that he had managed things very neatly indeed, and he mentally patted himself on the back that morning.

Ben Aimes, however, did not take local politics into account. It is such little unconsidered trifles which very often go to make up the warp of affairs of larger moment.

Only a few months previously an ancient and honourable gentleman by the name of Ferris had been ousted from the job of justice of the peace, mainly on account of certain hostility to Ben Aimes and the Mackintavers forces. It is quite possible that old man Ferris was no good as a justice, yet he had an inconspicuous but important part to play in the tangled affairs of Thady Shea and Sandy Mackintavers, to say nothing of the seven stone G.o.ds.

In broad daylight, therefore, Thady Shea came to his senses. While slow remembrance dawned upon him, he found himself reposing in the back yard of an adobe house; how he got there was never explained. A furred tongue and an aching head gradually brought home some errant sense of shame.

This feeling was intensified by a goat-like visage above him.

"Well, pilgrim!" sounded a raucous voice. "Slep' it off, have ye?"

Shea groaned and sat up. "Where-where am I?"

"Town of Zacaton City, county o' Grant, State o' New Mexico." The other chuckled. He was a disreputable old fellow, distinguished by shiftless garb and dirty gray hair. "I reckon Ben Aimes must have give ye quite a jag, eh? If I was you, I'd spill out o' town right smart. He's got the constable lookin' for ye."

Shea clasped his head and groaned again, not understanding the words clearly.

"I've fallen!" he moaned.

"With a thud," agreed the other. "But worse'n that, pilgrim. Ye've gone and got ol' Mis' Crump in real bad. If ye wasn't so mis'able I'd boot ye out o' here for it."

Thady Shea stared up dully. "What-what's that you say?"

Old man Ferris surveyed him in pitying contempt, and carefully sank his remaining fangs into a plug of tobacco.

"D'ye mean as ye don't know what ye been an' done? Well, I can't say as I can see why Mis' Crump ever's taken up with the likes of you, but it's plumb certain that ye've gone an' done for her this trip, ye no-account swine!"

Shea's brow broke into cold perspiration. His quickening faculties began to grasp the sense of these words.

"Expound!" he said. "What have I done?"

"A plenty. The sheriff come over this mornin'. Him and a deppity has gone to arrest Mis' Crump-and all along o' you, ye mis'able coyote!"

"Arrest her? Why?" Shea stared, his heart sinking. So piteous was his gaze that old man Ferris turned aside, spat, and resumed his discourse in kindlier tones.

"Don't ye know that they's a new law about explosives? Well, they is.

Everybody what handles powder or dynamite has got to have a license.

From what I gather, Mis' Crump ain't wise to it and ain't got none.

"Last night you done blabbed out your soul to Aimes. Danged fool! Why did Aimes git the sheriff after Mis' Crump? Ain't but one answer to that-so's that devil Mackintavers could profit! And sheriff's goin' to take 'em to Silver City, too. If Mis' Crump has located an ore prop'ty, as looks likely, Mackintavers is after it.

"Once she gits out'n the way and they ain't n.o.body to hold down the location, some o' Mackintavers' crowd is going to jump it sure's shooting! Huh! Git out'n my back yard 'fore I come back, ye swine!"

Snorting angrily, old man Ferris turned and stamped away, and so out of the story. He had fulfilled his share in destiny, with greater measure than he knew.

Thady Shea sat staring, his eyes terrible with comprehension. With every moment that final exposition sank more deeply into his brain. The ghastly consequences of his own weakness left him stunned and paralyzed.

He could dimly remember what had happened, up to that final drink. He was certain that he had not mentioned the name of Mehitabel Crump. Yet he could remember telling about those explosives; as he connected things, he groaned again. Aimes had been pumping him, of course; had somehow suspected something.

The pitiless deduction of old man Ferris struck upon Shea's brain like a trip-hammer. The mine was left unprotected, or soon would be, and Mackintavers' men would grab it. Of course!

Frightful remorse crumpled Thady Shea, mentally and bodily. He owed all that he was, all that he might be, to Mrs. Crump; yet his action had literally ruined her. That cursed sniff of whiskey had done it! Shea wasted no recrimination upon himself for his lapse from rect.i.tude. He had gone through all that before. It was the consequence of this lapse that horrified him, that lashed down upon his soul.

"What have I done!" he mumbled, groping for coherency. "What have I done!"

All the old memories of Mrs. Crump flooded into his mind. He recalled all her actions and words, he pictured mentally all the deep waters of human kindness that lay hidden below her mask of harshness, he visioned anew how she had picked him out of the very gutter and had set him upon his feet, a man. How had he repaid her?

In this hour Thady Shea was cast absolutely upon himself. There was none to whom he might go for advice or aid. He was alone with his consciousness of guilt, alone with the remorse that ate into his heart like acid. A month previously he would have mouthed a curse at the world and have gone shambling away in search of the nearest saloon, where he would have recited "The Face on the Barroom Floor" as the sure and certain price of liquor.

This thought recurred to him. He pictured himself as he was a month ago.

From his lips was wrenched an inarticulate cry, the voice of a soul in anguish. Heedless of the burning ache in his head, he brought his long body erect and looked up at the sky.

"Oh, G.o.d!" he said, a dry sob in his throat. "Oh, G.o.d! I have scoffed and blasphemed because You let me stumble down into h.e.l.l. It was my own fault, G.o.d. Now, for the sake of that woman who helped me to find myself, it's up to You to give me a hand! I don't know what to do. But I've got to make up for this thing that I've done, and there is no one to help me except You-and it's for her sake--"

The words failed, for as he spoke out his heart the deepness of feeling that had laid hold upon him ebbed; just as the bitterness of grief ebbs with tears. A tremor shook him, and for a moment he stood motionless.

Close at hand was an _acequia_, an open ditch with running water. He went to it, kneeled, and plunged his head into the water; it cooled his brain and steadied him. He rose and saw his axe helve lying where he had lain that night. He picked it up and stood there, indecision eating into him.

What was to be done? He must do something. The constable was seeking him-why? No matter. The name of Ben Aimes explained everything. The morning was wearing along, and by this time all hope of warning Mrs.

Crump was gone. Of course, there was the dust-white flivver. He could take that and sneak back to the mine. It would be deserted.

Deserted? But that was what Mackintavers wanted, according to this disreputable ancient! That was why Mrs. Crump was under arrest! That was the aim and purpose of the whole affair-to have the mine left deserted, so that the man Dorales could step in and seize upon it.

The gaunt, grim face of Shea tightened and hardened. "One thing I can do-go there," he reflected. "What the h.e.l.l have I to worry about-can they do any worse to me than I have done to myself? No. They'll try to arrest me, they'll try to keep me here. They can't do it! I'm going."

As he left the place and sought the road, there was a sublime unconsciousness of self in him. He was in no condition of mind to do the usual, the conventional thing, the thing that any sane man would have done, the thing that any one would be expected to do.

No! From that hour, Shea was a different man. He had entered upon this new and primitive existence, and now it took hold upon him. His course of life had been abruptly shifted, and he was climbing new paths; as he climbed, the exhilaration of the heights sang in his blood. He had flung away the lessons of his old dreary years. Now his actions were to be the simple, terrible, and impulsive actions of a child who fears no consequences.

Finding that he was only a couple of blocks from the main street of the town, Shea walked toward it, the axe helve still in his hand. He meant to take out his flivver and go.

There was no church in Zacaton City, and it was not yet time for the Mormon chapel to open. The garage doors were wide. In front, standing in the warm sunlight, Ben Aimes was chatting with the constable about the mysterious disappearance of the man Shea. Half-a-dozen idlers were lined up to one side, smoking and discussing the coming and going of the sheriff. Around the corner of the store, across the street, swung the gaunt figure of Shea.

"By gosh!" exclaimed Aimes, staring. He clutched the arm of the constable. "There's the cuss now! Lay him up until Dorales gets here to-morrow, anyhow. Whew! I'm glad he's showed up at last. Must ha' been laying in a ditch."