On the evening that Sheriff Warburton left Tinnemaha Pete slumbering beside the camp fire at Blue Mud Spring and rode off for the Huntington ranch, Lemuel prepared supper early for himself and Lennox in order that he might have as much time as possible to devote to the laborious task of writing Dot a letter.
In a large pantry off the kitchen, which prior to Lennox’s coming had served as a storeroom, the mining engineer lay on a cot, helpless; his broken leg was mending as rapidly as could be expected, according to the doctor who had made his clandestine visits under cover of darkness.
Around sundown, Lex Sangerly had returned from Geerusalem, following his talk with Quintell, and stopping long enough to leave the mail, motored away to the railroad construction camp, thirty miles distant, declaring he would not be back until late.
So, after he had washed the dishes, Lemuel began elaborate preparations, calculated to usher in becomingly his penmanship ordeal. He trimmed the tall kitchen-table lamp, polished its chimney carefully, got out a writing tablet, envelope, pen and ink, filled and lighted his pipe, rolled up his sleeves, and finally squared himself firmly before the table and started, after a long interval of painful reflection.
He had so much to tell Dot. He must notify her that Lex was making the ranch his headquarters; that Dick Lennox was there also, after nearly having been killed by the Quintell gang; that the Geerusalem branch of the Mohave & Southwestern was due to pass in front of the ranch-house door; that he had sold four tons of alfalfa; that her pet cow, Bess, was a proud mother, and that he had collected forty-three eggs that day.
After considerable feinting with the pen, he got under way. It was a warm, quiet night. The pen scratched and scratched hesitatingly. The patient old clock on the wall tick-ticked on and on tirelessly. A contented bullfrog out in the cool garden began a hoarse pæan, a dedication to the silence, and broke off midway in a measure. Lemuel finished his second page, then sat back and fired his pipe. With a critical eye, he read what he had written:
GEERUSALEM, AUG. 29.
MY OWN DEARES DORTER: I jest got yore welcom leter an was orful glad to heer you bin doin so fine in skule. Lex Sangerly he tol me all about you givin him the $20,000. I allus knowed you was as hones as the day is long, sweethart, an I tol him so an he sed you sure was the fines gal he ever seen. An I sed they didn make em no better, an I was proud of you. You orter herd us. You sure wood a-bin stuck on yoreself. But lissen, honey, an I want that you should bare in mind that bein yore ol dad Im allus lookin out for yore interes. An that is, you gotter fergit this Billy Gee galoot. I dont know why he give you that money xcept that Sangerly sez it was to help us out. But you gotter figger hes a outlaw, an aint no good nohow. So help me Moses, if I git another chanct at him I sure will drag him off to the calaboose.
Grinning proudly, Lemuel picked up his pen again, dipped it in the ink, and started on his third page. Then he stopped. The kitchen doorknob was squeaking. He stared at it and saw to his dismay that it was moving. Some hand was trying it. His heart quickened suddenly. He remembered that he had not turned the key!
It was some distance to the door; but his rifle stood in the corner, just out of reach. He slid cautiously out of his chair to get the weapon. At that very moment, however, the door had opened and closed, and a man stood in the room, his six-shooter covering Lemuel.
“Pull down the shades, Huntington! Git a hustle on you!” the intruder commanded quietly, as he locked the door.
The rancher gazed at him, horror growing in his eyes. His visitor was Billy Gee! Arrived at last was the hour he had so long dreaded, though he had believed it indefinitely postponed; for he had been certain the outlaw would hesitate to make an overt move against him while Lennox and Sangerly were there. But his Nemesis had come, and now Lemuel vividly recalled the fellow’s dire threat, made on that eventful morning in Warburton’s room in Geerusalem. He grew faint with terror and, trembling violently, lost no time in obeying the other’s order.
“Now, sit down!” directed Billy Gee. He waited until Lemuel slumped weakly into his seat, then he drew up a chair to the opposite side of the table, holstered his gun and, his eyes never leaving the rancher’s face, got out the makings and flipped a cigarette together.
Lemuel watched him in fearful fascination, trying to fathom his intentions, hoping in vain that by some means, Lennox, helpless though he was in the grip of the plaster cast, might rescue him from his awful predicament. After a moment, it began to dawn on him that Billy Gee was not displaying those evidences of rage and hatred that he felt certain should forecast revenge. In fact, he thought the outlaw seemed friendly, notwithstanding the steely glitter in his eyes. At any rate, he told himself, the fellow looked well-fed, well-groomed, handsome indeed, compared to that wan, hollow-eyed, half-dead wretch he had delivered to Bob Warburton on that never-to-be-forgotten morning.
“What’re you shakin’ about?” asked Billy Gee presently. “I had an idea you was gritty, the way you acted that time you herded me into camp.” He showed his even teeth in a hard grin. “I promised I’d make you pay, Huntington. You remember that? I ain’t forgot it, but I ain’t ready yet. I jest dropped in to have a quiet leetle chat with you. I see Lex Sangerly is stoppin’ here with you, an’ the minin’ engineer, Lennox. How’s he gettin’ along?”
“He—what d’you want? I’m busy. I’m—I’m writin’,” burst out Lemuel nervously.
“I hear Miss Dot is doin’ fine at the university,” said the other, with a glance at the letter. “I wish you’d give her my best reegards. You sure got a lady for a daughter, Huntington, an’ it ain’t from yore side of the fam’ly either.”
A short, painful silence fell. Billy Gee’s glance wandered to the storeroom where Lennox lay.
“Grab the lamp! I want to see how he’s makin’ out,” he said, rising to his feet as he spoke.
Preceded by Lemuel bearing the light, he crossed the kitchen and entered the little room. Halting beside the cot he smiled down at its occupant.
“Hello, pard! How’re you feelin’?”
Lennox regarded him curiously a moment, then grinned. “You’re the man who saved my life, aren’t you? I’m feeling better than I did that night. My leg is knitting, but it’s hell lying here.”
“It sure must be. I reckon you’ll come out all right, though. Say, I’d lay poorty low if I was you! The Quintell bunch’s after you, red hot.”
“But why?” argued Lennox. “I’m not in Geerusalem. They’ve run me out. I’ve quit.”
Billy Gee nodded. “That’s jest it. They’re skeert you’ll talk. You know too much about their leetle game. I got the straight tip. They’re set on gettin’ you.”
Alarm crept into the other’s face. “And I’m flat on my back, unable to protect myself. That’s certainly cheerful news.”
“Sorry, I couldn’t give you nothin’ better,” said Billy Gee simply. Some moments later he turned to leave the room. “Me and Huntington’s got business together if you’ll excuse us. Hope you’ll come out all right.”
Once back in the kitchen, the table between them, the outlaw studied Lemuel speculatively for a few seconds.
“What did them two railroad detectives do the night I rambled off in their automobile? Sorter jolted ’em, didn’t it?” he asked finally.
“They didn’t do nothin’. They was sore, of course, an’ started quarrelin’ among themselves. I s’pose you knowed they left here to-day?” Lemuel paused and added: “I—I oughter mebby thank you for doin’ me a favor. They was goin’ to arrest me.”
Billy Gee laughed softly. “I heerd ’em gabbin’ about it. Miss Dot turned the money back to Lex Sangerly, didn’t she? I’m glad she did—now.” He shifted in his chair, placed his elbows on the table, and covered the rancher with an intense look. “I come to ask a favor off o’ you, Huntington. It ain’t a favor either. You owe it to me. I give you yore start, so to speak. You made ten thousand dollars off o’ me—sold me like you would one of yore cows. I’ll never forget that. You’re goin’ to pay heavy for it some o’ these days. See if you don’t! Right now I’m askin’ what’s part mine, savvy? I want you to give Tinnemaha Pete a deed o’ gift to that hill on the far end of the ranch.”
Lemuel sat bolt upright, then a hoarse exclamation burst from him. He paled through his sunburn. “Good Lord, man! You don’t aim to take the leetle I got?” he choked.
“If that hill was bringin’ you in anythin’, I wouldn’t ask it, Huntington—bad as I’d like to hurt you,” said Billy Gee evenly. “But it ain’t. A steer’d starve to death for the grass that’s on it, and you know it. Tinnemaha is lookin’ to do some prospectin’ an’ he don’t figger to deevelop another man’s property. He’ll be here to see you to-morrow or nex’ day. An’ you see that you give him a deed, see, or—well, I’ll be back, you kin gamble on that!”
“But can’t you see, I got two full quarter sections, an’ cuttin’ off that strip’ll ruin ’em?” cried Lemuel, in desperation. “An’ there’s my poor, leetle gal tryin’ to git a edjucation, an’——”
“Miss Dot’ll manage fine an’ dandy, I reckon,” asserted the bandit. “I hear she’s livin’ with Mrs. Liggs, an’ I don’t know of a better woman in the world than her. Mind what I’m a-tellin’ you, Huntington! You give ol’ Tinnemaha Pete a quit-claim title to that there hill, an’ don’t lose no time doin’ it. D’you understand? I’m goin’ to keep cases on you, an’ if I find out you ain’t done it, God help you!”
He broke off short and flapped his hat suddenly at the lamp, plunging the kitchen in darkness. His trained ear had caught a sound outside the house. The next instant he had flitted around the table and was standing over Lemuel.
“Don’t move! Don’t answer, no matter what!” he whispered into the rancher’s ear.
Approaching from the direction of Geerusalem, now came the gentle purring of an automobile. Lemuel in the grip of mixed emotions waited breathlessly. He waited for Billy Gee to speak. He was not sure where the outlaw was. He strained his ears through the darkness, listening. The machine came to a stop before the ranch. That could not be Sangerly, he knew. Who then? Ah, the doctor!
“You’d better git outside if you’re goin’ to do any shootin’,” Lemuel said in subdued tones, addressing the gloom. “That’s Doc Porter comin’ to see Lennox. Don’t go to killin’ him.”
There was no reply.
Heavy footfalls sounded on the kitchen porch. They stopped and went suddenly blundering down the back steps and on through the garden, bound for the front of the house. A revolver began roaring savagely; a strident voice boomed on the night, commanding a halt. Lemuel reached out a cautious hand for the outlaw, feeling for him, but found he was no longer standing beside him. He sprang to his feet, then caught up his rifle out of the corner, and groped his way toward the front door.
“Mr. Huntington, what was that? Is that them after me? Huntington, are you—— Give me a gun, man! Don’t let me die like a rat,” cried Lennox wildly, his voice ringing through the house.
“Rat, be damned!” called back Lemuel. “It’s the bandit friend of yourn I’m after. The skunk! Here’s where he gits what’s a-comin’ to him.”
He charged along the dark hall and got to the front door. It stood wide open. Billy Gee had fled. Halting undecidedly on the threshold, his rifle held ready, Lemuel glared about. The automobile stood at the gate, its headlights blazing. He heard the man of the heavy footfalls plunging down the gravel walk, then his harsh, authoritative tones.
“Stick up yore hands, in the name of the law! Up with ’em, I said, or I’ll blow you to kingdom come!” A dramatic pause, then: “Now march over to the house! Thought you could visit round free an’ easy, eh? Well, yore visitin’ days is about over, sport. Git a hustle on you!”
“This is an outrage, officer. You’ve got the wrong man,” protested the prisoner indignantly.
“Yeh? Well, we’ll see about that. You put it over pretty on the train, kid, but you ain’t never doin’ it ag’in, let me tell you. If you don’t shet yore face, I will. Hey, Lem! Make a light in there. This is Bob Warburton.”
The sheriff, following the clew given him by Tinnemaha Pete—that Billy Gee was at the Huntington ranch—had ridden direct from Blue Mud Spring. Creeping onto the kitchen porch, he had heard the outlaw and Lemuel talking. He had seen the light suddenly extinguished, and had heard the approaching machine. Racing around the house, he had caught sight of a man dodging into the gloom of the garden shrubbery and had apprehended him.
Now, at the sheriff’s words, Lemuel hurried back into the kitchen and lit the lamp. Presently Warburton appeared herding his captive unceremoniously before him. Lemuel stared blankly at the latter, and the official, giving him one look, burst into a torrent of curses. His prisoner was Jule Quintell, pale, unnerved, but furious over the rough reception he had received.
“Isn’t this rather cheap comedy for the sheriff of San Buenaventura County to pull?” sneered the broker. His attitude was one of contempt and defiance.
The sheriff, in the act of hurrying out to make a search of the premises, wheeled, flushing with rage. “Say that ag’in, mister!” He spoke in a voice that Lemuel, in the many years he had known him, had never heard him use before.
“I’m Jule Quintell, of Geerusalem, Sheriff Warburton. I protest emphatically against this sort of treatment,” began the man, assuming an air of resentful dignity.
“Oh, you are! Well, let me tell you somepn, Quintell: You jest make another crack like that, an’ see what happens. I’ve heerd you’re the big I-am over in these parts,” continued Warburton, glowering at the other. “An’ they tell me you got all kinds of pull. But don’t you ever git in my way, Quintell. D’you understand?”
The broker extracted a cigarette from his dainty gold case. “That’s more of an order than a threat, isn’t it, sheriff?” he asked coolly.
“You can find that out for yoreself,” retorted Warburton.
Quintell chuckled. “Very well, sheriff. Should the opportunity ever present itself, I most certainly will make the test. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to take up a small business matter with Mr. Huntington here.” He turned toward Lemuel. “And how have you been, Lem? I hear that Billy Gee is at large again. How unfortunate—after you went to all the trouble and danger of capturing him!”
Warburton’s face flamed under the thrust. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it hard over his set teeth. Turning on his heel, he walked out of the kitchen, gripping his six-shooter in a hand that shook with rage.