CHAPTER IX.

BELL HOLDERNESS ASKS HIS QUESTION.

Adroitly getting as many drinks into Lav as he would take, Bell Holderness kept building up his lie and practising it on Lav. By the time they went back to the Tarleton house at noon, he had about convinced Lav that it was his own and Cliff's duty, since Randy had shot their father, and old Railroad practically admitted killing Ben, to hunt the two up and kill them forthwith.

When they reached the house, they went in to see the judge. Cliff was in the room. Bell went over his plausible lie in detail. He knew he could find a man at the H Bar by which he could prove every statement he made, so he turned himself loose.

Judge Tarleton listened with knitted brows, and at times his face flushed with anger against the Ross family. He had been friendly with them, and had treated them as his equals, in spite of the fact that they were just rough cow-people.

He could understand the animosity of the Holderness boys against the Rosses. It was common belief that Railroad had killed their father. He hadn't understood why they had waited so long before retaliating, but Bell explained that. Ross was rich, while they had always been poor. A thing like that was likely to get them into court, and without money, they'd be helpless. They had money, now. They had bided their time.

That last sentence undid all that Bell had done toward getting immediate action by the Tarletons.

"Well," said the judge, "if you boys could bide your time for twenty years, we can bide ours until I'm up and about again. We'll just stick to what we decided on this morning. If the boys meet up with Railroad or Randy, things will have to take their course, but we won't press the matter, now, by hunting for them."

That was final. Bell bit his lip in chagrin, but he could go no farther in that direction without seeming over-anxious. After all, he could dispose of Railroad and Randy. He had wanted the Tarletons to kill them, so he would have a hold on the family. Cursing the fate that kept the Tarleton boys from meeting Randy the day before, when they were in the killing mood, he turned his attention to another matter.

Bell knew of the attachment that had been between Zella and Randy. He knew that was broken, because her brothers had told him. Naturally, it would be, since she believed Randy was an assassin.

Bell was wise enough to know that a woman is more susceptible in grief than at any other time, and he determined to put his case to the test. Married to Zella, or even engaged to her, he would have far more strength with the Tarletons.

It was after noon, when he found Zella alone in the yard.

"Miss Zella," he said, "I told you this morning I had wanted for a long time to ask you a question. I'm going to ask it now. You don't have to be told that I love you, have loved you since you were a little girl. I know this is an unhappy time for you. It is that very thing that makes me want more than ever the right to protect you from as much unhappiness as possible. There is no telling where this trouble will end. More sorrow may come to you any day. You may even be left without a brother to protect you. They must inevitably meet Randy, and he is a swift and accurate shot. Won't you marry me, and give me the right to protect you?"

Zella was looking down, digging in the soft mold of the yard with the toe of her boot. She didn't look up, nor did she speak.

"Won't you answer my question?" pleaded Bell, in the tone that he knew so well how to use, so often had used.

She looked up at him, and there were tears in her eyes. They were tears for Randy Ross, but he mistook the cause of them.

"Not now," she said. "Some other time, perhaps."

"When?"

"When you have answered the question I asked you this morning."

* * * * *

The sides of Bell's horse were bleeding when he reached Willow Mills. He understood Zella's tears now. Those tears were for Randy. Very well; if she wanted to weep for Randy, she would have cause. Randy Ross, sober, was a dangerous man. Let the Tarleton boys meet him when he was sober, and see what happened.

There would come a day when Bell would own Silver Bend. Randy and old Railroad would be dead. He'd be rich, and Zella would have cried away all the tears she had. He could wait. Just now, he had other things to attend to.

He didn't care if one or both of the Tarleton boys were killed. It would leave Zella that much more property when the judge was gone. The trouble was that their feet had got cold, and the immediate passing of Railroad and Randy was urgent. As long as they were alive, there was a chance that too much would be found out about the killing of Ben.

Bell entered the Cottonwood, and took a stiff drink. He needed a bracer. Too many of his plans had gone wrong that day. Bell Holderness had one friend who would stick by him to the end.

That was a hawk-nosed killer by the name of French Clauson. Bell had enough on Clauson to send him to the gallows a hundred times over.

Clauson was his ace in the hole. He never used him when he could avoid it, except as a spy on his own brothers, Steve and Sam, and on every one else about the H Bar. Now, he knew he could rely on French to dispose of Railroad and Randy. He could make him do it. He wished Clauson was there, but he had given strict orders for him to stay at the ranch and watch things.

Bell didn't want to go across the river, himself. He wanted to stay clear of that mess for two reasons. One was that he wanted to be able to say that he was pulled into the first quarrel by Steve, and had got out as soon as he could and stayed out. The other was that it was dangerous all around that neighborhood, and he wanted to live and enjoy the rewards of his scheming.

While these thoughts were in his mind, a rider dismounted at the door, dropped his reins, and came in. Bell could have hugged him. It was French Clauson himself!

Bell was glad to see his henchman. Glad for once that some one had disobeyed orders, though he knew that something serious had happened, or French Clauson wouldn't be there. They took a drink together and walked outside.

"Get your horse and ride back to the river with me," said Clauson. "I ain't got much business on this side, and I can't talk to you here."

They mounted and rode out of town. Bell knew Clauson had something to tell and he was seething with curiosity, but not a word did his henchman say until they were out on the wind-swept sand bar, where there was no possibility of being overheard, and where he could dash into the river and win the other side, if an officer sought him. And then:

"Hell's broke loose in Georgia," he declared, solemnly.

"What's happened? Out with it, dammit! You're as bad as Steve."

"Not quite that bad--yet," drawled French, with an odd expression in his eyes. "About noon to-day, Curly White and three of the other boys jumped a coupla tigers."

"Tigers? What do you mean?"

"Tigers. Curly come into the ranch alone. He said they run onto old Con Bates and Sankey on our side of the river. They had caught Turk and Bud some way, God knows how, and had their hands tied to their saddle horns, takin' 'em for a ride."

"No! I don't believe it!"

"I'm just tellin' you what Curly said. He said when the smoke cleared away he was the only one of his bunch left, and he done it a running."

"What did they do with Turk and Bud?"

"Took 'em on for the ride, I reckon." French was sardonic.

"Hell! They were with us that day at the round-up! If old Railroad gets a rope on their necks, those two may talk!"

"I know it, and that ain't all. Sam went across to Silver Bend with a gang, and got shot up."

"Steve told me about that."

"He didn't tell you Sam died at noon, did he?"

"No!"

"I thought not. Somebody hung Bill Hayden, and--"

"Steve told me about that."

"Oh, he did? Well, as I came into the bottom, on the other side of the river, I found Steve himself hanging to a limb, right over the road. Steve didn't tell you that, did he?"

"No! Damn your impudent, insolent soul, he didn't, but I'll tell you something!" Bell almost choked. He was incapable of feeling any human emotion except selfishness, greed, and lust, and the rage which now swept him like a storm. "You've accused me of sending you into hell on my business. I'm going to lead you into it now. Come on, damn you! It'll take nerve to go where I'm going," and driving in his spurs, Bell led the way into the ford.

* * * * *

A little after nightfall that same evening, after Railroad had locked in his prisoners for the night, and Randy was long ago asleep, a voice from outside called softly through a crack in the log smokehouse:

"Walter!"

Turk sprang up from his blankets and rushed to the wall.

"Don't! For God's sake, Joe, don't call me by that name. You know what'll happen to me if officers find out I'm on this side of the river. You know all about that mess down in Bosque County!"

"Yes, but I ain't as much interested in it as I am in this one that's going on here."

"You won't give me away, Joe?"

"That depends. I heard the tale you told Mr. Ross. Is it straight?"

"Yes, it's straight."

"You're going to tell the same tale if he calls on you again, no matter what happens, nor where you are when you tell it, or--"

"I'll tell it straight, Joe. You know I will."

"You bet I know you will. What are you doing tied up with the H Bar outfit, anyway?"

"Well, after I got into that trouble down in Bosque County, I dodged across the river. There's not much doing over there, and I had to eat. Bell Holderness told me he needed men. I didn't know what sort of job it was till the racket started at the round-up."

"Do you know what sort of job it is now?"

"I sure do. It's a straight-out murder job. They aim to kill all the Rosses, and kill 'em from the brush if they can. I refused to do any of the bushwhacking, and this morning Bud and me was fixing to make a sneak, when them two old fellows jumped us. They're a pair of cats I'll tell the world."

"Yes, and there's a few more kittens in the Railroad outfit. If he don't win like he thinks he will, what is Bell Holderness going to do?"

"Go crazy and bring a gang of killers over here. Burn the house and kill you fellows as you run out."

"Fine! When will he do that?"

"Any time he thinks he can't win any other way, and the way he has lost yesterday and to-day, that won't be long."

"Good! If you know anything else that might help the Railroad outfit, you better tell me. It might make it easier for you when the showdown comes."

"That's all I know, Joe. Since I refused to bushwhack, they wouldn't tell me anything."

"All right. Sweet dreams. If you happen to want me, you better call me Dolly. They'll hear you better," and Dolly headed for the corral.

A few minutes later he was on his horse, and headed for the prairie trail. Once again he was taking Randy's affairs into his own hands. Not altogether Randy's either. That pleading look in Zella's eyes had haunted him since the evening she had begged Sankey to save Randy.

Dolly was a Railroad puncher, and the neighborhood of the Tarleton plantation was unhealthy for such, but he was going to communicate with Zella, some way. He didn't believe the Tarletons, with the facts before them, would take sides against the Railroad. He had the facts, and he meant to deliver them where, if he was not mistaken, they would do most good.

* * * * *

With Zella Tarleton, to feel deeply was to act promptly. Soon after Bell Holderness left, she was in her room, writing another note to Randy. She knew she couldn't send it until about night, but she got it ready, and the tone of it was very different from the last one she had sent. The pity of it was that Randy would never see it, but she didn't know that.

Half a mile out on the prairie, Dolly met a horseman--or almost met him. The rider whirled out of the trail and set off across the open prairie. Dolly recognized him and gave chase. The race was short, and catching the other's bridle, Dolly jerked him to a stop.

"O-o-o-h! Lawdy! I's done kotch now!"

"Stop that noise!" commanded Dolly. "Where you heading for?"

"That ole Railroad, in the dark bottom! O-o-o-h!"

"Have you got a note for Mr. Randy?"

"Yassir, nossir. I--I mean I ain't."

"You can't lie to me."

"I didn' know that. If'n I can't lie to you, I mean I is got one."

"Now, you listen to me. If you go fooling around Mr. Randy with that note, he's going to hang you."

"But Miss Zella, she say, Pompey, she say, my life and Mr. Randy's life just plumb 'pend on him gettin' this note, immejit."

"Well, you can't take it to him."

"Says which? Whuffo' I can't?"

"Because I'll hang you if you try."

"Hoo! Po' nigger! Hangin' whichever way I jumps, and Miss Zella 'll sho' kill me if I don't jump. Deep water!"

"I'll stand between you and Miss Zella."

"Huh-uh! Man, you goin' be ruined if you do. Miss Zella is de sweetest and bes' woman in the worl', but when she do get riled--hunt cover!"

"Can you take me to Miss Zella without any one else knowing it?"

"Yassir, but you gwine know it, and me, too, when we gets there."

"I'll chance that. Come on."

"Bress God, I don't have to go thoo that ole dark bottom by my lonesome, anyway," Pompey consoled himself as he turned back into the trail and headed for the Tarleton place.

They entered the Tarleton plantation at the east side, and rode within a quarter of a mile of the house.

"Here's whar I turn this ole pony loose in the woods," declared Pompey. "Old judge and them boys ketches me hossbackin' around in de night, I sho' sees trouble. I ain't been nowhar but possum huntin' ef'n anybody asks me. Best you leave yo' bronc here, too."

Dolly tethered his horse where he could make a quick get-away and followed Pompey silently. They entered a copse, a hundred yards from the house, and stopped. At the same moment an exceedingly large and exceedingly hoarse owl hooted, just once, right by Dolly's side.

"Dat ole owel better not have to hoot but once," chuckled Pompey, "less'n Mist' Lav come out here wid his shotgun."

The owl didn't have to hoot again. A few minutes later a light step approached the edge of the copse, and Pompey's name was called.

"Here I is, yit, Miss Zella."

"How did you get back so soon?"

"Miss Zella, I rode, and I had help."

"Did you bring a note from Randy?"

"No, ma'am, Miss Zella, I didn't. I got kotched."

"Caught? Who caught you?"

"A man."

"What man?"

"Miss Zella, I don't know what man, but he punches cows fo' de Railroad, he packs a gun, and he sho' knows how to talk rough to a nigger. Hoo-ooh! He say he wanted speech with you. He say Mist' Randy gwine hang me ef'n I tuk him dat note. He say he knows plenty he want to tell you."

"Was it Sankey?"

"No, ma'am, it warn't Mist' Sankey. I got the gemman right here in this ole plumb thicket, and--"

* * * * *

"Miss Tarleton," said Dolly, who was standing only a few feet away, "I guess I've taken right smart chances, coming here like this, but--"

"Who are you?"

"You wouldn't know me by name, but I was with Sankey that evening when you talked to him at the mouth of the lane."

"Oh, I see. Pompey, go halfway to the house and wait for me." And, when Pompey had gone: "Tell me, quick--did Randy send you to me?"

"No, ma'am, he didn't. I come on my own account. I've been riding with Randy since this mess come up, and I know a whole lot of things."

"Has he been hurt?"

"Yes, ma'am, he's hurt right bad."

"I knew he would be! Who--who hurt him?"

"You did!"

"I! How--"

"That note you sent him the other night. I don't know what was in it, but I know it changed him to the coldest, bitterest man I ever saw. He's bitter against the whole world, and bitterest against you."

"Oh, don't--don't tell me that!"

"I'm telling the truth. I'm trying to help, and I'm taking a chance on getting shot to do it. If your men folks catch me here, they'll shoot me. If Randy finds out I came, he'll shoot me like I was a dog."

"Why did you come, then?"

"To tell you that neither Randy, nor no other Ross, shot your father or your brother Ben. The man who shot your father is dead. The man who shot Ben is not dead, but I've got proof of it."

"Won't you tell this to my brothers and father?"

"I'd like to, but they'd shoot me on sight."

"No, no, no. They've been thinking things over. They'll listen. I'll make them listen. I'll go back to the house and talk to them. You get your horse, go out to the lane, and come up the front way. If there is a light in the southeast window, come on to the house. If there is not, don't come."

Dolly, loyal squire that he was, was getting into deeper water than he intended, but since he was in he would see the thing through. A few minutes later he stopped at the end of the short lane that led to the Tarleton house. He was looking through the avenue at the dark front of the old house, when a light flashed in the southeast window, wavered, then burned steadily.

"Dolly," he muttered under his breath, "here's where you take the longest chance of yo' young life. If you can't tell the truth, natural, and make it stick, you won't come back. Let's go."

He was met at the door by Zella, who took him into that southeast room. It was a big, old-fashioned parlor, stiff and conventional in its every aspect.

"They'll see you," she whispered. "I don't know what the outcome will be, but they'll hear what you have to say. Come on, you'll have to go into father's room. They're in there," she went on, with her hand on the knob of a door at the north side of the parlor.