Langford of the Three Bars Part 28

So it was agreed, and the next morning, bright and early, the little posse, reinforced by others who had earnestly solicited the privilege of going along, started out on its journey. The rains were over, but the roads were heavy. In many places, they were forced to walk their mounts.

No one but the initiated know what gumbo mud means. Until they took to the hills, the horses could scarcely lift their feet, so great would be the weight of the sticky black earth which clung in immense chunks to their hoofs. When they struck the hills, it was better and they pressed forward rapidly. Once only the sheriff had a.s.serted that he had run across the famous outlaw. Black had resisted savagely and had escaped, sending back the bold taunt that he would never be taken alive. Such a message might mean death to some of the plucky posse now making for the old-time haunts of the desperado.

The sun struggled from behind rain-exhausted clouds, and a rollicking wind blew up. The clouds skurried away toward the horizon.

At White River ford, the men looked at each other in mute inquiry. The stream was a raging torrent. It was swollen until it was half again its ordinary width. The usually placid waters were rus.h.i.+ng and twisting into whirlpool-like rapids.

"What now?" asked Baker, the deputy-sheriff.

"I'm thinkin' this here little pleasure party'll have to be postponed,"

vouchsafed one of the volunteers, nodding his head wisely.

"We'll sure have to wait for the cloud-bust to run out," agreed another.

"Why, we can swim that all right," put in Langford, rallying from his momentary set-back and riding his mount to the very edge of the swirling water.

"Hold on a minute there, Boss," cried Jim. "Don't be rash now. What's the census of 'pinion o' this here company? Shall we resk the ford or shall we not?"

"Why, Jim," said Paul, a laugh in his blue eyes, "are you afraid? What's come over you?"

"Nothin'. I ain't no coward neither, and ef you wasn't the Boss I'd show you. I was just a thinkin' o'-somebody who'd care-that's all."

Just for a moment a far away look came into the young ranchman's eyes.

Then he straightened himself in his saddle.

"I, for one, am going to see this thing through," he said, tersely.

"What do you say, Johnson?"

"I never for one minute calculated on doing a thing else," replied the deputy marshal, who had been standing somewhat apart awaiting the end of the controversy, with a good humored smile in his twinkling blue eyes.

"Good for you! Then come on!"

Paul urged Sade into the water. He was followed unhesitatingly by Munson, Johnson, and Baker. The others held back, and finally, after a short consultation, wheeled and retraced their steps.

"I ain't no coward, neither," muttered one, as he rode away, "but I plumb don't see no sense in bein' drownded. I'd ruther be killed a roundin' up Jesse."

The horses which had made the initial plunge were already in water up to their b.r.e.a.s.t.s. The current had an ominous rush to it.

"I don't care. I didn't mean to hold over and let our quarry get wind of this affair," cried Langford, over his shoulder. "Keep your rifles dry, boys!"

Suddenly, without warning, Sade stepped into a hole and lost her balance for a moment. She struggled gallantly and recovered herself, yet it weakened her. It was not long before all the horses were compelled to swim, and the force of the current immediately began driving them down stream. Sade fought bravely against the pressure. She was a plucky little cow pony and loved her master, but it was about all she could do to keep from going under, let alone making much headway against the tremendous pressure of the current. Langford's danger was grave.

"Steady, my girl!" he encouraged. He flung his feet free of the stirrups so that, if she went under, he would be ready to try it alone. Poor Sade! He should hate to lose her. If he released her now and struck off by himself, she might make it. He had never known White River to run so sullenly and strongly; it would be almost impossible for a man to breast it. And there was Mary-he could never go back to her and claim her for his own until he could bring Black back, too, to suffer for her father's wrongs.

At that moment, Sade gave a little convulsive shudder, and the water rolled over her head. Langford slipped from the saddle, but in the instant of contact with the pus.h.i.+ng current, his rifle was jerked violently from his hand and sank out of sight. With no time for vain regrets, he struck out for the sh.o.r.e. The struggle was tremendous. He was buffeted and beaten, and borne farther and farther down the stream.

More than once in the endeavor to strike too squarely across, his head went under; but he was a strong swimmer, and soon scrambling up the bank some distance below the ford, he turned and sent a resonant hail to his comrades. They responded l.u.s.tily. He had been the only one unhorsed. He threw himself face downward to cough up some of the water he had been compelled to swallow, and Munson, running up, began slapping him vigorously upon the back. He desisted only to run swiftly along the bank.

"Good for you," Jim cried, approvingly, a.s.sisting Langford's spent horse up the bank. Coming up to the party where Langford still lay stretched out full length, Sade rubbed her nose inquiringly over the big shoulders lying so low, and whinnied softly.

"h.e.l.lo there!" cried Paul, springing excitedly to his feet. "Where'd you come from? Thought you had crossed the bar. Now I'll just borrow a gun from one of you fellows and we'll be getting along. Better my rifle than my horse at this stage of the game, anyway."

The little party pushed on. The longer half of their journey was still before them. On the whole, perhaps, it was better the crowd had split.

There was more unity of purpose among those who were left. The sun was getting hot, and Langford's clothes dried rapidly.

Arrived at the entrance of the cross ravine which Williston had once sought out, the four men rode their horses safely through its length.

The waters of the June rise had receded, and the outlaw's presumably deserted holding was once more a peninsula. The wooded section in the near distance lay green, cool, and innocent looking in the late summer sun. The sands between stretched out hot in the white glare. From the gulch covert, the wiry marshal rode first. His face bore its wonted expression of good-humored alertness, but there was an inscrutable glint in his eyes that might have found place there because of a sure realization of the hazard of the situation and of his accepting it.

Langford followed him quickly, and Munson and Baker were not far behind.

They trotted breezily across the open in a bunch, without words. Where the indistinct trail to the house slipped into the wooded enclosure, they paused. Was the desperado at last really rounded up so that he must either submit quietly or turn at bay? It was so still. Spots of sunlight had filtered through the foliage and flecked the pathway. Insects flitted about. b.u.mble bees droned. b.u.t.terflies hovered over the snow-on-the-mountain. A turtle dove mourned. A snake glided sinuously through the gra.s.s. Peering down the warm, shaded interior, one might almost imagine one was in the heart of an ancient wood. The drowsy suggestions of solitude crept in upon the sensibilities of all the men and filled them with vague doubts. If this was the haunt of a man, a careless, sordid man, would this place which knew him breathe forth so sweet, still, and undisturbed a peace?

Langford first shook himself free of the haunting fear of a deserted hearthstone.

"I'd stake my all on my belief that he's there," he said, in a low voice. "Now listen, boys. Johnson and I will ride to the house and make the arrest, providing he doesn't give us the slip. Baker, you and Jim will remain here in ambush in case he does. He's bound to come this way to reach the mainland. Ready, Johnson?"

Jim interposed. His face was flinty with purpose.

"Not ef the court knows herself, and I think she do. Me and Johnson will do that there little arrestin' job and the Boss he'll stay here in the ambush. Ef anybody's a countin' on my totin' the Boss's openwork body back to Mary Williston, it's high time he was a losin' the count, for I ain't goin' to do it."

He guided his horse straight into the path.

"But, Jim," expostulated Langford, laying a detaining hand on the cowboy's shoulder, "as for danger, there's every bit as much-and more-here. Do you think Jesse Black will tamely sit down and wait for us to come up and nab him? I think he'll run."

"Then why are you a s.h.i.+rkin', ef this is the worst spot o' all? You ain't no coward, Boss, leastways you never was. Why don't you stay by it? That's what I'd like to know."

Johnson grinned appreciatively.

"Well, there's always the supposition that he may not see us until we ride into his clearing," admitted Langford. "Of course, then-it's too late."

Jim blocked the way.

"I'm an ornery, no-'count cowboy with no one in this hull world to know or care what becomes o' me. There ain't no one to care but me, and I can't say I'm a hurtin' myself any a carin'! You just wait till I screech, will you?"

"Jim," said Langford, huskily, "you go back and behave yourself. I'm the Boss not you. You've got to obey orders. You've sa.s.sed me long enough.

You get back, now!"

"Tell Mary, ef I come back a deader," said Jim, "that women are s'perfluous critters, but I forgive her. She can't help bein' a woman."

He gave his horse a dig with his knee and the animal bounded briskly forward.

"Jim! You fool boy! Come back!" cried Langford, plunging after him.

Johnson shrugged his shoulders, and wheeled his horse into clever concealment on one side of the path.

"Let the fool kids go," he advised, dryly. "I'm a lookin' for Jess to run, anyway."

The two men rode boldly up toward the house. It seemed deserted. Weeds were growing around the door stoop, and crowding thickly up to the front windows. A spider's silver web gleamed from casing to panel of the warped and weather stained door. The windows were blurred with the tricklings of rain through seasons of dust. Everything appeared unkempt, forlorn, desolate.

There was a sound from the rear. It carried a stealthy significance. A man leaped from the protection of the cabin and was seen running toward the barn. He was heavily armed.

"Stop that, Black!" yelled Langford, authoritatively. "We are going to take you, dead or alive-you'd better give yourself up! It will be better for you!"