Cactus and Rattlers/Chapter 11
CHAPTER XI
ANOTHER dawn was breaking when the five riders approached Pinecate Cañon, and the sun-spears were thrusting across the eastern sky. The lower reaches of the rocky cañon were desolate and empty, save for the figure of a saddled and bridled horse moving about. Sidewinder, with a grunt of recognition, broke the silence.
"There's that cayuse of Mesquite's now—started for town and stopped on the way. Prob'ly smelled water here."
"And yonder's the auto," said Tom Emery with a jerk of his head. "Two of 'em!"
There was no need to question Ramsay about his car, for that of Ethel Gilman had been thrust beside it into the cover of the trees and mesquite clump, so that both cars stood protected from sun and dew, but plain to be seen. Sidewinder flung them a glance, then turned his horse into the cañon.
"Come along—ride as far as we can, anyhow. Her place is quite a ways up."
The five rode slowly up the cañon, until they came to the spot where Ramsay had found that cigarette-case. Here Sidewinder drew rein, since it was becoming increasingly harder for the horses to climb. Ahead was the bend in the cañon.
"Manuel, you stay here with Ramsay. You'd better stick here too, Tom. Come ahead when I call. You come with me, Bill."
Sidewinder dismounted, and with the dapper Cholo Bill swinging along beside him, ascended the rocky floor of the cañon on foot. A faint thread of smoke began climbing into the sky from somewhere around the bend; sunrise in all its glory was spreading a riot of color across the heavens.
Some distance above them was a great boulder, huge as a house, in the center of the rapidly narrowing cañon. It was a rich and ruddy rose-pink in the first sunlight, and was split squarely in two, with a number of small piñon trees growing from the split. Water came from it, came from the cañon above it also, and ran down into several pools and short falls; it was the evanescent water of the desert springtime, giving a short-lived existence to lilies and masses of flowers on either hand. Above this boulder, and to its left, could be seen the brown outline of a small tent, with the figure of Ethel Gilman tending a fire close by. Sidewinder raised his voice in a hail, and waved his hand.
"Leave the talk to me, now," he growled. "It's all right—she's alone here. Don't want to frighten her. Scare a fool woman, and she's like a locoed horse."
"Seguro, señor," assented the halfbreed with a flash of his white teeth. Sidewinder, now that the girl had seen them, turned and sent a stentorian hail down the cañon, bidding Emery come along up. Then he started climbing again to where the girl stood beside her little fire, staring at the arrivals in alarm and fear that could not be wholly veiled.
"Morning, miss," called Sidewinder as they approached her camp. "How's everything?"
"All right, thanks," she returned, low-voiced, obviously startled.
"I was goin' by with some friends o' mine," said Sidewinder, puffing with the climb, "and thought we'd stop in and see if you were all right.—Bill, rustle up some firewood for the lady!"
CHOLO BILL smiled and went about his task. Sidewinder approached the girl. "We're going to leave Ramsay with you a spell," he said. "He's a mite scratched up, but aint hurt to speak of. Fell off a hoss, I reckon. Miss, where's that pistol of yours? Let's have a look at it."
He did not miss her start at Ramsay's name. His gray eyes glittered on her, bored into her, and as she met that deadly gaze, there was a struggle in her face.
"You want—my pistol?" she faltered.
"If you please, ma'am."
Her hand went to her bosom and produced a small, flat automatic. Still she hesitated, a surge of anger coming into her eyes—then as she looked past Sidewinder, she saw the other three figures turning the bend. At once she held out the weapon.
"There. Now what? You need not pretend that you want to help me."
Sidewinder took the weapon and thrust it out of sight.
"We aint goin' to hurt ye, not a mite," he said harshly. "We got Ramsay where we want him, and neither one of ye is going to do any talkin'; that's all. We're goin' to leave him and you here, and fix it so's ye'll stay here a spell. Nothin' to be scared of, miss. If you've got any grub, let's have some. I'll send ye out plenty from town, as soon as we get back. The water'll last ye long enough, so there's nothin' to be scared of."
"I'll get what I have," she said quietly, then turned and went into the tent—whence she presently reappeared, with coffee and bacon, coffee-pot and skillet. Cholo Bill came in with an armload of brush, which he heaped over the fire, arranging several stones to hold the coffee-pot. A moment later Tom Emery strode up, followed by Ximines and Ramsay, who was still gagged and his arms bound. Miss Gilman stood staring at him, wide-eyed—this scratched and bruised and helpless man, with the garments hanging in shreds about him, was somewhat different from the Pat Ramsay she had known previously.
"I reckon he needs a shave, ma'am." Sidewinder chuckled. "But that'll keep. Set him against that rock, Manuel. The lady can let him loose after we're gone. Get some water, Tom—the quicker we get a bite to eat and get off, the better."
DISREGARDING their curious glances, Miss Gilman, looking only at the figure of Ramsay, returned to her tent and sat down before it. Sidewinder and his companions managed a makeshift bite to eat and a swallow of warm coffee apiece; then Sidewinder rose.
"We'll leave the hosses here. Which of you boys can drive a car? Got to take 'em both to town with us."
"I can," said Tom Emery.
"All right—"
"Somebody better stay and watch things, and attend to the horses," spoke up Manuel Ximines, who was rolling one of his evil-smelling cigarettes. "It would be foolish to leave horses here. Why not let me stay? I have nothing to do in town."
Sidewinder nodded, with a slight look of chagrin at the slip he had so nearly made. To have left the horses here unwatched would indeed have been fatal.
"All right," he said curtly. "You stay. Don't bother the lady none. Better go on down to the lower cañon. I'll send a driver back with the other boys and a load of grub in one o' the cars. Then you boys get back to Hourglass in a hurry, and get started. I'll have José Garcia out here by morning to ride herd on things."
"And shall I hamstring this hombre now?" asked Ximines, gesturing with his cigarette toward Ramsay, who was glad that Miss Gilman could not understand the Mexican tongue.
"Let him wait till tonight. You'll likely need help to hold him down, and we aint got any time to waste now. Come on, boys."
With this, Sidewinder started down the cañon, Tom Emery and Cholo Bill at his heels. Manuel Ximines, however, remained sitting where he was, a thin smile on his black-avised features, in his glittering dark eyes the wild cruelty and the cunning that mark the marihuana-smoker.
NOT until the three departing figures were out of sight around the bend did the girl move. Then, as Ximines showed no intention of leaving, she rose to her feet.
"Well?" she demanded sharply. "I suppose I may release Mr. Ramsay?"
Ximines turned his head and surveyed her. Under that gaze she shrank, and the color ebbed from her cheeks.
"You stay quiet or I shoot heem." With this, the Mexican resumed his cigarette and stared again down the cañon.
The girl flashed a terrified, wondering look at Ramsay, who had drawn closer a step or two. His eyes, vainly trying to give her a message of warning, terrified her the more, and she stood motionless before the tent. Ximines, who perhaps wanted to let Sidewinder and the other two men get well away, paid her no attention but smoked on reflectively and stared down the cañon. He had drawn his pistol, however, and now held it idly in his lap.
Ramsay, arms bound and gagged as he was, was more terrified than the girl. He knew that Ximines might at any instant leap into stark blood-madness or wild passion. Alienists declare that the man who thinks himself about to explode is the most dangerous of all maniacs; but men on the border know that more dangerous than any maniac is the smoker of marihuana. So, with the intention of quietly working his way toward the girl, in a desperate hope that she might be able to release his bound arms, Ramsay continued his slow forward advance.
Then, sudden as the flashing stroke of a snake, Ximines was on his feet, pistol out.
"One more step, little señor, and I cut your throat and drink your blood!" he exclaimed, a wild and lurid glare in his eyes. A cry broke from the girl.
"Stop! Leave us alone—go on down and look after those horses!" She faced him as he turned to her, grinning. Despite the terror that was upon her, she met his grin defiantly, bravely. "Go on down the cañon as you were told to do!"
Ximines thrust away his pistol and took a step toward her, glaring eyes gripped upon her.
"Manuel has come to take you, little señorita of the white throat," he declared in soft Spanish, and if the girl could not understand his words, his manner was beyond all mistake. "Come to me, little cooing dove! I shall show you how we treat the gringo señoritas in my country."
Ramsay hurled himself forward, frantic with horror, flung himself at the Mexican. Ximines grinned, avoided the rush, deftly tripped the bound man and then struck him with an open-handed blow that sent him headlong among the rocks. Next instant, with a sudden and unexpected lurch forward, he was upon Ethel Gilman and had caught her in both arms.
"Come, señorita—"
She struck him across the face, staggering him, and struck him again so that he loosed her and fell back, hand to eyes. A wild scream burst from him, and he whipped out a knife, swaying as he stood.
"Ha! I shall drink your blood for that blow, white-throat!" he yelled.
Ramsay, pulling himself up, saw the Mexican start forward, knew himself helpless to intervene; then he saw something else.
The flap of the brown tent was shoved aside, and in the opening protruded the red nose, the tangled whiskers, the sharp little eyes of Sagebrush Beam. The Mexican saw that movement also, and furious as he was, halted and shifted hand to pistol. But he was too late.
"I reckon ye've crowded us far enough," growled Sagebrush. The roar of a forty-five barked out, and lifted thunderously along the cañon walls.