The Last Straw Part 55

The pinto took Jane down the trail in great lunges, for she had no thought for dangers of the descent. At the foot was one of her men, Baldy Bowen, sitting ominously on his horse with a rifle across the horn. He watched her come and before she could speak jerked his head and said:

"They're waitin' for you, straight across there, ma'am."

She glanced in his direction and set off with renewed speed, winding through the cedars.

Against the far wall of the Hole was formed a curious group before a fence of brush and wire that blocked the entrance to a box gulch. HC riders were there, dismounted, in a silent, unsmiling cl.u.s.ter. Under a cedar tree sat Cole, the nester, knees drawn up, arms falling limply over them; more than ever he seemed to be drooping, in spirit as well as body. He did not glance up; just sat, staring from beneath drooping lids at the ground. Nearby lounged one of Jane's cowboys, his holster hitched significantly forward.

Apart from these others stood Hepburn, Webb and Bobby Cole and one other, curiously out of place in his smart clothes: d.i.c.k Hilton. Now and then one of the four spoke and the others would eye the speaker closely; then look away, absorbed in a situation that was evidently beyond words. Sitting grouped on the ground were Webb's riders and Cole's Mexicans. They talked and laughed lowly among themselves and from time to time turned rather taunting grins at Jane Hunter's men.

At a short distance stood horses, grazing or dozing; listless, all. But there was no listlessness among the men. The atmosphere was tense ...

to the breaking point.

A rider came through the brush and stopped his horse. It was Sam McKee.

He looked with widening eyes at the gathering, hesitated, as though to turn and leave, then approached.

"I seen two men in th' Gap," he said to Webb. "They said...."

He looked about again.

"Well, get down an' set," Webb said cynically.

McKee stared from face to face.

"I guess I'll go on."

"I guess you'll stay here," said Jimmy Oliver firmly. "We've got a little matter to talk over an' n.o.body leaves. I guess the boys in th'

Gap probably thought you'd like to hear what was goin' on."

Hilton stepped toward Oliver.

"Look here," he said, "I'm a disinterested party to all this. There's no use in my staying here."

"What I said to Sam goes for everybody else, Mister. When we put riders in the Gap an' at the trails we intended for everybody to hang around.

That goes. Everybody!"

Then he added: "If anybody wants to get out it'll be pretty good evidence that he's got somethin' to hide. This 's a matter that the whole country's interested in. You ain't got nothin' to hide, have you?"

The Easterner did not reply; turned back to Bobby with a grimace.

Sound of running hoofs and a quick silence shut down upon the gathering. The clouds were coming up more rapidly from the west; day was drawing down into them; the wind on the heights soughed restlessly.

Jane Hunter brought her pinto to an abrupt stop and sat, flushed and wind-blown, looking about.

"Well?" she said to Jimmy Oliver as he stepped forward.

"We sent for you, ma'am, because we stumbled onto somethin' that looks bad ... for somebody."

Her eyes ran from face to face. In the expression of her men she read a curious loyalty, mingled with speculation. They watched her closely as Oliver spoke, as men look upon a leader, as though waiting for her to speak that they might act. Still, about them was a reservation, as though their acceptance of her was conditional, as though they wondered what she would say or do.

She saw Webb and Hepburn eyeing her craftily; she saw Bobby Cole's gaze on her, filled with hate and scorn ... and a strange brand of fear. And she saw d.i.c.k Hilton, eyeing her with helpless rage and offended dignity. The entire a.s.semblage was grimly in earnest.

"Go on," she said lowly and dismounted, standing erect on a rise of rock that put her head and shoulders above the others.

"Jim Black here,"--indicating a cowboy in white angora chaps--"took down the trail after a renegade steer this forenoon. He came on this place and a hot fire and a yearlin' steer of yours whose brand had been tampered with.

"There's been enough goin' on recent, ma'am, to let everybody know that something was pretty wrong. Mebby we've run onto the answer today.

That's why we sent for you."

She looked about again and old Riley, moving out from the group slowly, as a man who feels that the welfare of others may be in his hands might move, said:

"For twenty years we've lived quite peaceable here, Miss Hunter. Since spring we've had anything but peace. It ain't a question that concerns any one of us alone; it affects the whole country. We've got evidence here of stealin'; we've got a man who, in our minds, ought to be tried for that crime....

"We sent for you because it happened to be your property. There's plenty of law in the mountains, but things have happened here that have put men beyond that law. Parties have resorted to the law of strength, and not honest strength at that. It's time it was stopped or some of us ain't goin' to exist....

"I know this ain't a pleasant task for a woman, but it seems like somethin' you've got to face ... if you're goin' to stay here. I guess you understand that, ma'am."

Jane's heart leaped in apprehension, she was short of breath, blood roared in her ears, but she fought to retain at least a show of composure.

"It seemed there wasn't any way out of it, but to turn the matter over to you. We'll all tell what we know; we'll see that there's order here.

We agreed you ought to sit as judge on the evidence against this man."

Again a consciousness of those faces upon her; faces of her men, honest, rugged, brave fellows, looking to her to stand alone! She knew, then, what that alloy in their loyalty had been. They would follow if she would lead; there was doubt in their hearts that she _could_ lead, for she was a woman, she was a stranger and not their kind! For months they had watched her, refusing to judge, but now the time had come. Now, if she ever was to stand alone, she must rise in her own strength and be worthy to lead such men!

Then there were those others: Hepburn and Webb and their outlaw following; perhaps, among them, the man who had shot Two-Bits down when he was serving her; perhaps the man who had burned her hay, broken her ditches, run off her horses. The men who would drive her out.

She felt suddenly weak. They were all watching her. This was the hour in which she must win or lose. It was _she_, not Alf Cole, who was on trial!

Jane began to speak, rather slowly, but evenly and clearly.

"I want the story from the beginning. Jim Black, will you tell what you know?"

Thus simply she accepted her responsibility to the country, took up her final fight for position there.

Black stepped forward, serious, quiet, showing no self consciousness whatever as the eyes swung upon him. Webb's riders had risen and were grouped behind their leader.

"Jimmy told you how I happened here. This steer, ma'am, cut across the flat an' I followed. I heard bawlin' over this way an', naturally, was surprised. Pulled up my hoss an' rode over. There was a fire in that gulch, an' it'd just been scattered. A man had been kneelin' down by it, an' there was one of your yearlin's hog-tied there. Your ear mark was still on him but your brand had been made from an HC into a THO by crossin' the H an' closin' the C."

He stooped and with his quirt demonstrated thusly:

[Ill.u.s.tration: HC THO]

"There was other calves in there. I counted sixteen. They was all THO stuff an' they was all mighty young."

"Did you see any men?" she asked.

He shook his head. "I dragged it for high country, got Jimmy an' told him."

"Oliver, have someone bring out this yearling," Jane said.