Cowmen and Rustlers: A Story of the Wyoming Cattle Ranges, Edward Sylvester Ellis [e reader .TXT] 📗

"Laugh at you!" he protested; "this is no time for laughing; it was a shame that those people should turn your house into a fort, when it could do them no good. Tell me what you want and it shall be done, if it is in my power."

"Thanks! You are very kind, and I shall never forget this favour; I want to mount one of the best horses in the stable and ride out so far that I am sure to be beyond reach of danger."

The proposition staggered the rustler—so much so that it did not occur to him, just then, that the daughter appeared a great deal more anxious to look after her own safety than her mother's.

"You have a horse in the stable, haven't you?"

"Yes, Jack is there, and he is a splendid fellow; he is the one I want."

"But the saddle?"

"I have it with me; here it is; you and I will adjust it together."

And the impulsive miss placed the saddle in his grasp before he knew it. She certainly was rushing things. It must be admitted, too, that she showed fine discretion. There was but one way of handling Mr. Larch Cadmus, and she was using that way.

He turned about and walked to the door of the stable.

"Jack is in the second stall," she said, pausing at the entrance, "and his bridle is on the hook near his head."

The gloom was impenetrable, but a couple of matches gave Cadmus all the light needed, and a minute later he brought forth the fine animal, who whinnied with pleasure at recognizing his mistress, despite the gloom.

Jennie gave what help she could in saddling and bridling him, the other two men standing a little way off in silence. She kept up an incessant chatter, repeating her thanks to Cadmus for his kindness, and binding him more completely captive every minute.

But the rustler was inclined to be thoughtful, for before the animal was ready he began to feel misgivings as to the prudence of what he was doing. There was something odd, too, about the young lady mounting her pony, riding alone out on the plain, and leaving her mother behind. Then, too, she had emerged from the rear instead of the front of the house, as he judged from her line of approach.

Could there be any ulterior purpose in all this? If she would only cease her chatting for a minute or two he might figure out the problem, but the trouble was, nothing could stop her. In fact he didn't wish her to stop, for that voice was the most musical one to which he could listen, and he would have been glad had it sounded for hours in his ears.

He managed to drift dangerously near the truth.

"Can it be that she intends to ride away for help?" he reflected. "It has that look; but no, it is hardly that, for there isn't any help within reach that I know of. She might find it in the course of a day or two, but this affair will be over before daylight—I beg pardon, what was it you said, Jennie?"

"Why, Larch, I'm tempted to pull your ears; you are a fine gallant; here I have been standing full ten seconds, waiting for you to help me on the horse, and you have paid me no attention."

"It was rude, my dear; I hope you will pardon me," he replied, stepping quickly forward, "but I am very absent-minded to-night."

"I will pardon you, of course, for you have been so good and nice that it would be ungrateful for me to be impatient."

He took the Cinderella-like foot in his broad palm and cleverly assisted her in the saddle. While he helped to adjust the reins, her tongue rattled on harder than ever.

"How far, Larch, will it be necessary for me to ride so as to be sure—mind you, sure—of being out of the way when this awful business opens?"

"Well, I should say a hundred yards or so will be enough—"

"Mercy! do you think so? I ought to go two or three times as far as that; you won't object, will you? and when the shooting does begin, I can hurry Jack farther off."

"Do as you think best; but it seems to me, Jennie, that you are forgetting your mother—"

"O, no; when Fred brings her out—maybe he has done so now—tell her the direction I have gone and she will understand. Which is the best course for me to take? I guess it don't make any difference, so I will go this way."

Through all this apparently aimless chatter, Miss Jennie Whitney was using her wits. She knew a long ride was before her, and everything would be ruined if she lost her way. There was no moon or stars to give guidance, and she therefore carefully took her bearings while the chance was hers.

"I suppose it's all the same which course you follow, but I fear I am doing wrong in allowing you to ride off—"

"Now, don't spoil everything by regretting the handsome way in which you have indulged my whim; I think I will ride over the ridge to the left—"

"Hold on, Jennie, until I can speak to Inman; he may object—"

"You can speak to him after I am gone; good-night, Larch, and many thanks again for your kindness."

She rode off with her intelligent Jack on a walk until she was clear of the camp, when she touched him into an easy gallop.

Larch Cadmus stood looking into the gloom where she had vanished, almost before he comprehended her intention.

"Well, she's a puzzle!" he exclaimed to his two companions, who came forward; "I don't know what to make of her. What do you suppose she meant by that, boys?"

"It's easy enough to see," replied one of them, with a laugh; "she's gone off after help."

"Do you think so?" asked the startled Cadmus; "where can she get it?"

"She may bring back their hands."

"There are only two of them," said Larch, much relieved, "and they won't amount to anything in the rumpus. You don't imagine that she knows of any larger force anywhere in the neighbourhood?"

"She can't know of any, for there ain't any," was the clincher of the rustler; "or, if there is, she can't get it here in time to do Asbury and the rest any good."

Cadmus was relieved by the words of his friend. Enough misgivings, however, remained to make him say:

"There are so many moving about that her departure don't seem to be noticed; I'll take it as a favour if you don't mention it to any one, for now that she is gone I am sure I never should have allowed it."

The couple gave the promise, though their belief was that nothing serious would follow.