Judith of the Godless Valley Part 56

Scott sighed and detached himself. The congregation waited a moment; then curiosity had its own way and the chapel emptied itself into the yard. Several Mormons were sitting their horses before the line of quivering aspens that bound the little clearing. A big red bull was tied to the corral fence. Elijah Nelson remained on the doorstep.

"Well," he began, "since you are all out here, I'll say to all of you what I rode down here to say to Scott Parsons, he and anybody that may be helping him are hereby served notice that they've got to keep out of Mormon Valley. We are decent, G.o.d-fearing Americans, and we are not going to stand being robbed any more."

"How do you mean, being robbed?" asked Peter Knight.

"Well, I brought this along as a sample," replied Elijah. "Some five years or so ago, I had some cattle grazing on Lost Chief and somebody ran off a dozen head, this bull among the lot. Anybody that can't do a better job of rebranding than this, ought to try another line of business."

There was an interested craning of necks toward the huge brand offered in evidence; then every one looked at Scott. Scott said nothing, and Elijah went on.

"That fellow Parsons patrolled Mormon Creek, that heads up at Lost Chief Springs, all summer. He built a brush dam and threw the water out of our creek into his own ditch, whenever he felt like it. I didn't want to start a fight going. That's not a Mormon's business. We are peaceful folks, homesteading the wilderness. It was a wet summer and we managed to get enough water out of White Horse Creek to take care of us. But right is right and wrong is wrong and we aren't going to stand that next summer. Last week, a coyote was fastened into my chicken run; and last night a mountain lion with a trap hanging to his leg got into my corral, where I had two foals, and he killed them before I could get out. The trap had Scott Parsons' name cut onto it. I don't know who is helping him, if any, but I'm here with my neighbors to serve notice that it's got to stop. I see you've got a preacher here now. I begin to have hopes you may become peaceable yet."

A sudden gust of laughter swept Lost Chief.

"Well, Scott," asked Peter, "what have you got to say?"

"Me?" asked Scott. "I'm not a preacher or a Mormon. I haven't got the gift of gab. Charleton is a good talker. Let him say something."

"All right, old trapper," said Charleton obligingly. He grinned at Inez and began:

"Yet, ah, that Spring should vanish with the Rose, That Youth's sweet-scented ma.n.u.script should close,--"

Elijah Nelson interrupted. "Is this the way you are going to answer a decent protest against injustice? Is this--"

"Wait now!" cried Grandma Brown. "Don't get all prodded up. Scott, you give this man a straight answer."

"Very well, Grandma; I'll do that little thing for you," drawled Scott.

"Nelson, you and the rest of you Mormons and Jack-Mormons go plumb to h.e.l.l, but leave my bull behind."

One of Nelson's neighbors rose in his stirrups and shook his fist at Scott. "You dogy-faced Gentile! I've got you marked! You are the one who ran our cattle off Lost Peak five years ago, and we know who helped you."

"Well, I think you Mormons had better get back to your plural wives!"

cried John Spencer. "We've had about enough of this."

"Judith," said Douglas, "you take your mother and go home."

Judith turned bright eyes toward him. "Think I'm going to run away? No sir!"

Elijah's neighbor laid his gun across his own arm. "Say that again, Spencer," he suggested, "unless you aren't willing to fight for your daughter!"

Mr. Fowler sprang up beside Nelson on the doorstep. "I beg of you all to disperse to your homes and don't desecrate the Sabbath by such a scene as this."

"O, don't talk like a fool, Fowler!" exclaimed Grandma Brown. At this moment her little grandson came roaring l.u.s.tily up the trail. He was covered with muck and snow.

"Judith's bull has got away from us kids and he's headed this way!"

"What were you doing with him?" shrieked Grandma,

"We was going to bring him up here and put him in the church like Scott paid us for. And he said--"

But what the child intended to divulge was not to be known, for there was a bellow from the thickest of blue spruce and Sioux, with various chains and ropes dangling from his neck and legs, charged into the clearing. There was a sudden wild scattering of human beings. Judith whistled shrilly, but Sioux had been goaded beyond her control.

"Let me get my rope!" she cried.

"Hold up!" shouted Charleton. "Something's going to happen!"

The Mormon's bull had broken his halter and had turned to meet the on-coming Sioux. Sioux's bloodshot eyes fell on the stranger, and instantly the battle was joined. Snow flew. The buck fence crashed. The bulls bellowed, locked horns, retreated, charged, slipped, fell, rose again with a rapidity only equalled by the ferocity of the attack.

"They'll kill each other if they aren't stopped!" cried Fowler. "Stop them, Douglas! O G.o.d, what a place! What a place!"

"What a fight, you mean!" laughed Charleton. "I put up ten dollars on Sioux."

"Take you!" said Scott.

"If Spencer's bull kills mine, he'll pay for it!" cried Nelson.

"If they work into the corral," shouted Douglas, "some of you help me put up the fence again and we'll have them!"

"Well, but don't stop the fight." Young Jeff gesticulated excitedly.

"I'm going to put up ten on Sioux!"

"Take you!" said Scott.

Nelson's bull ripped Sioux's flank for six inches and blood spurted to the ground. Both the great heads were undistinguishable ma.s.ses of blood. Their hot breath hung frozen in the air. The western sun turned all the world beneath the aspens to crimson. The betting became more general and more hectic as the battle waxed more furious. The Mormons forgot their grievance for the moment and backed their bull freely.

Suddenly Sioux freed himself, retreated and charged with the full force of his two thousand pounds. He caught Nelson's bull on the fore shoulder. The visitor slid sideways, stumbled to his knees and rose, shaking the blood from his eyes. He gave a look at Sioux, who was preparing to charge again, and turning he fled along the trail toward Scott's ranch, uttering as he went the longdrawn and continuous bellow of the defeated bull.

Douglas, Judith, and John Spencer immediately roped Sioux. Scott spurred his horse across the trail and drew his gun. "Get back!" he said to two of the Mormons. "That's my bull!"

"No gun-play, Scott!" called Peter.

There was a sudden exodus of women and children down the home trail, but Judith continued talking soothingly to her bull.

Scott did not heed the postmaster. He went on, to the Mormons. "You blank-blanks have trimmed me out of my year's profits! I'm not going to lose the bull too!"

"Judith Spencer!" shouted Elijah Nelson, turning his horse toward Judith and her pet, "is that Scott Parsons' bull?"

There was sudden silence, broken only by the distant bellow of the retreating warrior. Judith sat very erect on Buster, her beaver cap on the back of her head, her wide gray eyes brilliant. She looked at Scott.

His hard handsome face was expressionless. Douglas ran across the yard and reached up to tap Elijah Nelson on the chest.

"Don't drag a woman into this, you b.a.s.t.a.r.d American, you! I was up there that summer running your cattle and I lost every one of them, if you want to know, and there was no woman helping me out, either. Now, what are you going to do about that?"

Nelson lifted his hand.

"Wait a minute!" drawled Charleton.. "It sure-gawd is your bull, Nelson.

Scott ran it up to Mountain City, rebranded it there, and brought it back here in the spring."

"Why, you traitor!" roared Scott. "You staged the whole play, and I'll bet you staged this with your traps."