The Delafield Affair Part 5

"You sent for me, Senor Jenkins?" the Mexican asked.

"Yes. It's all right. You needn't be afraid. I want you to do something, Melgares."

They stepped inside the corral and Melgares bolted the door. "You saw Conrad's mare just now?" Jenkins began. "Fine creature, isn't she?"

"Splendid, senor. The finest I have seen in a long time."

"I'll warrant it! I never saw a better myself. Looks like a good traveller, doesn't she?"

"Si, senor."

"And a stayer, too, I guess! It wouldn't be hard to get to the Mexican border on her back, would it?"

Melgares grinned, then shook his head. "But my family--I could not take them with me."

"Well--see here, Melgares. Here's fifty dollars. If you'll get away with Conrad's mare you can have it for your trouble. It will take your family down there all right."

"But you, senor,--where do you come in?" He looked suspiciously at Jenkins.

"Oh, never mind me. Conrad did me a bad turn a while ago, and I'm evening up the score. That's all I want out of it."

"But now, senor?"

"Yes; now's your chance. He's in the saloon, and the mare's tied at the corner."

"The Sheriff is in there, too. The risk is great."

"Well, I'll go in and keep them busy. I'll raise excitement enough inside so that n.o.body will even look out of the windows. Get out there in five minutes, be quick about it, and ride off down the valley road."

"Give me the money, senor. I'll take the chance."

Jenkins returned, and entered the bar-room with his former companion without attracting the attention of Conrad and his friends. The other spoke of the report about the Castleton money and mentioned Curtis Conrad's name. Jenkins raised his voice in angry reply:

"Oh, d.a.m.n Conrad! Martinez don't want his help!"

Curtis heard the words and turned sharply around, his face flus.h.i.+ng.

Jenkins appeared not to see him, and went on:

"The Castletons are all right, but Conrad's help would be a disgrace to any party. Martinez don't want it!" His voice rang loud and shrill above the silence that had fallen suddenly upon the room.

Curtis's face paled, even under its ruddy tan, and his eyes blazed. With head up he strode forward. "Jenkins," he said, without raising his voice, although it shook with a warning tremor, "I advise you to be careful. You may have your opinion about me, as I have mine about you--and you know what that is. But don't you say that again, nor anything else of the sort!"

Jenkins turned toward him with an ugly sneer. Recollection of former indignities at Conrad's tongue and hands blazed up in his heart and carried him farther than he had meant to go. With an oath and a vile name he flung his gla.s.s in Conrad's face. In an instant the young man's arms were around his body. The others crowded in and tried to stop the quarrel.

"Let us alone!" shouted Curtis, pus.h.i.+ng his way toward the back room.

"Wilder, take his gun, will you? Get mine out of my pocket, too. This won't be a gun play."

Tillinghurst took Conrad's pistol, and Wilder succeeded in getting Jenkins's revolver, at the cost of a kick on the s.h.i.+n, which he repaid in kind. With Jenkins almost helpless in his grasp, Curtis struggled into the rear room. The others were all crowding after him. He turned back a face still pale and set with anger, although a twinkle of amus.e.m.e.nt was creeping into his eyes.

"Dan," he called, "shut that door and keep out the crowd!"

Instantly there were cries of disapproval.

"Fair play!" "You're bigger than him!" "We want to see it's on the square!"

Curtis scowled. "If any of you think it won't be on the square, just wait for me till I get through with him," he shouted.

The Sheriff slammed the door, and set his bulk against it, saying with smiling cheerfulness: "Well, gentlemen, I reckon Mr. Jenkins won't get any more than is comin' to him, and as Sheriff I call on all of you to keep the peace and not interfere."

Alone in the back room with his prisoner, Conrad dropped into a chair, dragged the other over his knees, face downward, then threw out one sinewy leg and caught under it Jenkins's two unruly limbs. Still keeping a firm grip with his left arm, he raised his right hand.

"Now," he said grimly, "you're going to get the sort of spanking your mother didn't give you enough of."

One after another the resounding smacks came down, while Jenkins, his strength spent in futile struggle, could do nothing but writhe helplessly under the smarting blows. The sound of them penetrated to the front room. As the men there realized what was happening they broke into laughter so uproarious that it smote upon Jenkins's ears and forced a hysterical shriek from between his gritted teeth. In Conrad's heart it inspired compa.s.sion and he desisted.

"I guess that'll do for this time," he said, releasing his hold and standing the culprit on his feet. "I don't want to have to hurt you, but let me tell you, you d.a.m.ned skunk," and he seized Jenkins's shoulders and gave him a vigorous shake, "if you ever dare talk about me again in that way, or tell another human being what you told me about Bancroft, I'll make you wish you'd never been born."

With a parting shake he let Jenkins fall back into the chair, sobbing aloud. Then he stalked to the door, not even doing his enemy the slight honor of going out backward.

CHAPTER VI

A STERN CHASE

As the shout which greeted Conrad's entrance died away the Sheriff called out, "Now, gentlemen, you must all have one with me," and every one lined up at the bar. A rollicking din of chaff and laughter filled the room, and no one except Little Jack Wilder noticed the entrance of a Mexican at the street door. He heard the step, turned quickly, and recognized the man who had told Tillinghurst that he was not Liberato Herrara. Glancing along the line of backs at the bar, the Mexican singled out Conrad and touched his arm.

"I beg your pardon, senor, but did you send some one to ride your mare?"

"To ride my mare? No; what do you mean?"

Before he could answer Wilder sprang forward demanding, "Is she gone?"

and Conrad started for the door.

"A man has just ridden her away on the run," the Mexican said excitedly, and every one in the room rushed for the street.

"She's gone!" shouted Conrad.

"Did you see him? What was he like?" demanded the Sheriff.

"A pock-marked greaser with a bad eye?" yelled Wilder, towering threateningly above the bearer of the news.

Gonzalez threw back his head, folded his arms across his breast, and answered deliberately, "He was a Mexican, senor, he was pock-marked, and he was blind in one eye."

"Melgares! He's done it at last! Hooray!" shouted Wilder.