The Night Riders Part 14

"Father----" Diane started forward in alarm, but he cut her short.

"And as for you, miss, remember your place in my house. Go, look to your duties. Sweep, wash, cook, sew. Those are the things your s.e.x is made for. What interest have you, dare you have, in that brainless boy? Let him fight his own battles. It may make a man of him; though I doubt it. He is nothing to you."

Diane shrank before the scathing blast of that sightless fury. But she rallied to protest.

"It is the women-folk, father."

"Women-folk? Bah!"

He threw up his hands in ineffable scorn, and shuffled away into the house.

Jake, still smarting under the attack, stood leaning against the verandah post. He was looking away down at the bunkhouse, where a group of the men were gathered about Archie Orr, who, seated on his horse, was evidently telling his tale afresh.

Diane approached him. He did not even turn to meet her.

"Jake, I want Bess at once. Hitch her to the buckboard, and have her sent round to the kitchen door."

"What are you goin' to do, my girl?" he asked, without shifting his gaze.

"Maybe I shall drive over to see those poor women."

"Maybe?"

"Yes."

"You can't have her."

Jake turned, and looked down at her from his great height. Archie Orr had just ridden off.

Diane returned his look fearlessly, and there was something in the directness of her gaze that made the giant look away.

"I think I can," she said quietly. "Go and see to it now."

The man started. It seemed as if he were about to bl.u.s.ter. His bold, black eyes flashed ominously, and it was plain from his att.i.tude that a flat and harsh refusal was on his lips. But somehow he didn't say it. The brutality of his expression slowly changed as he looked at her. A gentle light stole slowly, and it seemed with difficulty, into his eyes, where it looked as out of place as the love-light in the eyes of a tiger. But there was no mistaking it. However incongruous it was there, and the lips that had been framing a cruel retort merely gave utterance to a quiet acquiescence.

"All right. I'll send her round in five minutes."

And Diane went into the house at once.

Meanwhile, a great discussion of young Orr's affairs was going on at the bunkhouse. Arizona had vacated his favorite seat, and was now holding the floor. His pale face was flushed with a hectic glow of excitement. He was taxing his little stock of strength to the uttermost, and, at least, some of those looking on listening to him knew it.

"I tell you ther' ain't nothin' fer it but to roll up to old blind hulks an' ast him to send us out. Ef this dog-gone skunk's let be, ther' ain't no stock safe. Guess I've had my med'cine from 'em, and I'm jest crazy fer more. I've had to do wi' fellers o' their kidney 'fore, I guess. We strung six of 'em up in a day on the same tree down Arizona way, as that gray-headed possum, Joe Nelson, well remembers.

Say, we jest cleaned our part o' that country right quick. Guess ther'

wa'n't a 'bad man' wuth two plugs o' nickel chawin' around when we'd finished gettin' 'em. Say, this feller's played it long enough, an'

I'm goin' right now to see the boss. He's around. Who's comin'?"

"Yes, an' Archie Orr's a pore sort o' crittur to git left wi' two women-folk," said Raw Harris, rising from his upturned bucket and putting forth his argument, regardless of its irrelevance. "Not a stick to shelter him--which I mean 'them.' An' not a dog-gone cent among 'em. By G----, Arizona's right."

"That's it," put in Joe Nelson; "you've hit it. Not a dog-gone cent among 'em, an', what's more, owin' blind hulks a whole heap o' bills on mortgage. Say, that was mostly a weak move him askin' the boss fer help. Why, I guess old Marbolt hates hisself on'y one shade wuss'n he hated Manson Orr. Say, boys, ef we're askin' to lynch Red Mask, we ain't askin' in any fancy name like 'Orr.' Savee?"

There was silence for a moment while they digested the wisdom of the suggestion. Then Jacob Smith nodded, and Lew Cawley murmured--

"Dead gut every time, is Joe."

This loosened their tongues again until Tresler spoke.

"See here, boys, you're talking of lynching, and haven't a notion of how you're going to get your man. Don't even know where to lay hands on him. Do you think Marbolt's going to turn us all loose on the war-path? Not he. And how are two or three of us going to get a gang of ten or twelve? Besides, I believe it'll be easier to get him without a lynching party. Remember he's no ordinary cattle-rustler. I say lie low, he'll come our way, and then----"

"That's it, lie low," broke in Joe Nelson, shaking his gray head over a pannikin of tea, and softly blowing a clearing among the dead flies floating on its surface. "Maybe y' ain't heard as the sheriff's come around Forks. Guess he's fixed a station ther'."

"He's already done so?" asked Tresler.

"Yup."

"By Jove! The very thing, boys. Don't roll up. Don't do any lynching.

The sheriff's the boy for Red Mask."

But Arizona, backed by Raw Harris, would have none of it. They were of the old-time stock who understood only old-time methods, and cordially resented any peaceful solution to the difficulty. They wanted a lynching, and no argument would dissuade them. And after much discussion it was Arizona's final word that carried the day.

"Now, you see, Tresler," he said huskily, for his voice was tired with sustained effort. "You're the remarkablest smart 'tenderfoot' that ever I see. Say, you're a right smart daddy--an' I ain't given to latherin' soap-suds neither. But ther's suthin's I calc'late that no 'tenderfoot,' smart as he may be, is goin' to locate right. Hoss thieves is hoss thieves, an' needs stringin'. Ther' ain't nuthin' for it but a rawhide rope fer them fellers. Guess I've seen more'n you've heerd tell of. Say, boys, who's goin' to see the boss? Guess he's right ther' on the verandah."

Though there was no verbal reply as the wild American turned to move off, there was a general movement to follow him. Raw Harris started it. Pannikins were set down upon the ground, and, to a man, the rest followed in their leader's wake. Tresler went too, but he went only because he knew it would be useless--even dangerous--to hold back. The general inclination was to follow the lead of this volcanic man.

Besides, he had only voiced that which appealed to them all. The gospel of restraint was not in their natures. Only Joe Nelson really endorsed Tresler's opinion. But then Joe was a man who had lived his youth out, and had acquired that level-headedness from experience which Tresler possessed instinctively. Besides, he was in touch with Diane. He had lived more than ten years on that ranch, during which time he had stood by watching with keenly observant eyes the doings of the cattle world about him. But he, too, in spite of his own good reason, moved on to the verandah with the rest.

And Jake saw the movement and understood, and he reached the verandah first and warned the blind man of their coming.

And Tresler's prophecy was more than fulfilled. As they came they saw the rancher rise from his seat. He faced them, a tall, awesome figure in his long, full dressing-gown. His large, clean-cut head, his gray, clipped beard, the long aquiline nose, and, overshadowing all, his staring, red eyes; even on Arizona he had a damping effect.

"Well?" he questioned, as the men halted before him. Then, as no answer was forthcoming, he repeated his inquiry. "Well?"

And Arizona stepped to the front. "Wal, boss, it's this a-ways," he began. "These rustlers, I guess----"

But the blind man cut him short. The frowning brows drew closer over the sightless eyes, which were focussed upon the cowpuncher with a concentration more overpowering than if their vision had been unimpaired.

"Eh? So you've been listening to young Orr," he said, with a quietness in marked contrast to the expression of his face. "And you want to get after them?" Then he shook his head, and the curious depression of his brows relaxed, and a smile hovered round his mouth. "No, no, boys; it's useless coming to me. Worse than useless. You, Arizona, should know better. There are not enough ranches round here to form a lynching party, if one were advisable. And I can't spare men from here. Why, to send enough men from here to deal with this gang would leave my place at their mercy. Tut, tut, it is impossible. You must see it yourselves."

"But you've been robbed before, sir," Arizona broke out in protest.

"Yes, yes." There was a grating of impatience in the blind man's voice, and the smile had vanished. "And I prefer to be robbed of a few beeves again rather than run the chance of being burned out by those scoundrels. I'll have no argument about the matter. I can spare no hand among you. I'll not police this district for anybody. You understand--for anybody. I will not stop you--any of you"--his words came with a subtle fierceness now, and were directed at Arizona--"but of this I a.s.sure you, any man who leaves this ranch to set out on any wild-goose chase after these rustlers leaves it for good. That's all I have to say."

Arizona was about to retort hotly, but Tresler, who was standing close up to him, plucked at his shirt-sleeve, and, strangely enough, his interference had its effect. The man glared round, but when he saw who it was that had interrupted him, he made no further effort to speak.

The wild man of the prairie was feeling the influence of a stronger, or, at least, a steadier nature than his own. And Jake's lynx eyes watching saw the movement, and he understood.

The men moved reluctantly away. Their moody looks and slouching gait loudly voiced their feelings. No words pa.s.sed between them until they were well out of ear-shot. And Tresler realized now the wonderful power of brain behind the sightless eyes of the rancher. Now, he understood something of the strength which had fought the battle, sightless though he was, of those early days; now he comprehended the man who could employ a man of Jake's character, and have strength enough to control him. That afternoon's exhibition made a profound impression on him.

Their supper was finished before they set out for the house, and now the men, murmuring, discontented, and filled with resentment against the rancher, loafed idly around the bunkhouse. They smoked and chewed and discussed the matter as angry men who are thwarted in their plans will ever do. Tresler and Joe alone remained quiet. Tresler, for the reason that a definite plan was gradually forming in his brain out of the chaos of events, and Joe because he was watching the other for his own obscure reasons.

The sun had set when Tresler separated himself from his companions.

Making his way down past the lower corrals he took himself to the ford. Joe thoughtfully watched him go.