CHAPTER FIFTEEN
THE BEST-LAID PLANS
March had come in a-roaring. Almanac-wise it was passing out a-bleating. Except in the high places the snow was going fast. The frost was coming out of the ground, making it necessary for the Hillsville stage to employ eight horses instead of six. The gray geese were flying northward. Here and there on the southern flanks of the lean hills the grass showed bravely green. That uncomfortable person, Dan Slike, was well enough to stand his trial. Spring was in the air, but winter still held sway in the heart of Billy Wingo. He had not been able to make up his difference with Hazel Walton, or rather she had not made up her difference with him. Manlike, or mulelike, whichever you prefer, Billy Wingo was stubbornly determined that the girl should make the first move. True, he had seen her. It was also true that he had gone out of his way to see her. Always his reception had been friendly, but not the least cordial. Obviously she had not forgiven him his outburst.
Whenever he thought on what he was pleased to consider his ill-treatment at her hands, he was prone to rail at the foolishness of women. He did not stop to reflect that there was another side to the shield. Certainly not. The woman was clearly and wholly in the wrong. Adam, I believe, was the first man to express this opinion. His sons have been following in his footsteps ever since.
Came a night of heavy rain and wind. Billy Wingo, a lamp on the table at his elbow, was reading a Denver newspaper. A sudden gust drove a spatter of rain across the windows. There was a soft thump followed by a sliding sound against the outside door. Some one uttered in a woman's voice a muffled wail.
Billy went at once to the door and lifted the latch. The wind pushed it back against him and flung a spray of wet into his face. There was something lying on the doorstep and sill, something that moved a little. Billy let the door fly open. The something was apparently a woman in distress. Billy bent down, endeavoring to slip his hands under her shoulders. But the woman was heavy and her clothing was very wet and slippery. Billy bent a little lower and—Smash!
"He's coming out of it," a voice was saying. "I saw his eyelids flicker."
"You hit him a mite too hard," declared another voice. "Y'oughta used a club instead of that wagon wrench."
"I didn't know how hard his head was," offered a third voice, "and we can't afford to take chances. You know that. Anybody, he's coming along all right, so what's the odds?"
"He's ruined that pillow," complained the first voice. "And I know he's bled on through the sheets into the mattress. Spoil the mattress, that will. Cake the feathers all up. Make 'em nubbly."
"Don't be so dainty, Sam," laughed the second voice. "You're so all-fired fat what's a rough mattress to you? Sleep on the floor, and you wouldn't know the difference."
Billy kept his eyes shut, although he was now completely conscious. His head ached like forty. Seemed as if the whole top had come off and dozens of little devils were inside hammering like mad. He believed he knew the owners of those three voices. Sam Larder, Felix Craft and Tip O'Gorman. He opened his eyes. Yes, he was right. There they were, the three of them. But it was daylight, and a day of sunshine too. And the last thing he remembered was a night of wind and rain.
Tip gave back his look with a smile. Sam Larder and Felix Craft did not smile. Their faces were serious.
"Glad to see you're coming round," said Tip O'Gorman. "Here, let me fix that bandage. Looks as if it might be slipping. How you feel—pretty good?"
"Pretty good—considering," replied Bill.
"That's fine, fine. Want a li'l something to eat?"
"Rather have a drink."
The cool water revived him like wine. He lay back on the pillows greatly refreshed. He thought his head ached a little less, perhaps.
"Where am I and how did I get here?"
"You're in my house," said Sam Larder. "You were—uh—brought here."
"After the roof feel on me?" said Billy, fingering the bandage round his head.
"Well, you see," said Tip, in some embarrassment, "we knew you wouldn't have accepted our invitation unless you were knocked silly first. But I—I planned the whole thing, Bill—I didn't intend to keep you senseless as long as this. It's a matter of ten hours since you were hit. I didn't know but what maybe we were due to lose you, after all."
"That would have been a pity," said Billy.
"Wouldn't it? Yeah. Don't blame me for that crack, though. I told Crafty not to use anything made of iron. But I'm afraid he used his own judgment."
"I always do," said Felix Craft.
"Who was the woman?" inquired Billy.
"I was the woman," replied Craft demurely.
"That was one on me. But I'm still wonderin'. You fellers went to a lot of trouble to carry me clear out here. I suppose it's too much to hope you were seen doing it."
"I don't guess we were seen," said Tip. "We kind of took care not to be.
"How long do you count on boardin' me, Sam?"
"Just a li'l while," was the reply.
"No longer than is necessary," slipped in Tip, with emphasis on the last word.
"Necessary, huh. Necessary. I suppose you fellers think you'll be able to get Dan Slike off by kidnappin' me. You forget there's Riley Tyler."
"We know there's Riley Tyler," said Tip, "like we know Riley and Shotgun went to Hillsville yesterday and won't be back for three-four days. And about Dan Slike we don't care three whoops in hell. To tell you the truth, Bill, I'm surprised you don't know us better than that. We three didn't have any hand in that Walton business."
"I didn't really think you did," said Billy frankly, "but knowing how you and Tuckleton——"
"No, no, Bill," interrupted Tip hastily, "don't go fussin' about Rafe. That's a cat with another tail entirely. Your business right now this minute is with us. Our business is with you. Here we are. Here's you."
But Billy was apparently paying no further attention to Tip's words. He was looking at the ceiling. He was smiling. He chuckled.
"Do you know," he said, glancing sidewise at Tip, "when I was a kid, I often wondered how it would feel to be kidnapped. I had a idea it would be romantic sort of. But it ain't, not a mite. I feel like I'd been on a tear—head, y'understand, and mouth all furry and thirsty! Where's that pitcher? Oh, I can sit up all right."
He swung up to a sitting position with a lurch. "Here's how," he said, reaching for the pitcher.
He drank his fill and again lay down, supporting his head on a bent elbow.
"Crafty," he said severely, "why for are you monkeying with that gun?"
"I thought I had it hidden behind the table," replied Craft, shamefacedly depositing a six-shooter on the table in front of him.
He folded his arms behind the gun, but Billy noticed that the fingers of his right hand were touching the wood of the butt.
"The truth is," said Tip, "that we intend to watch you pretty closely. But you haven't any kick coming. You ain't gagged or hogtied even."
"Seeing that Sam's house is a mile out of town and a good eight hundred yards west of the Hillsville trail, gaggin' me and tying me up are hardly necessary. Sam, that water sure gave me a appetite. I feel considerable better. Suppose now you send along the chambermaid with several eggs, more or less, let 'em lay, and two-three-four slices of nice ham, and some fried potatoes, and bread and butter, and a li'l jam if you have it—if not, I'll take what you've got handy and some coffee, black, with sugar. Better have her bring a full pot of coffee. And Samuel, my own dear boyhood friend, will you send along the golden-haired chambermaid?"
"That's the way," approved Tip, smiling, as Sam Larder slumped kitchenward. "Make a joke of it. No sense in taking it to heart."
"Tip," said Bill, "I always knew you were an old scoundrel."
Tip looked hurt. "The scoundrel perhaps, and only perhaps, mind you, but I deny the age. I'm only a short fifty."
"Plenty of time for you to be hung yet," admitted Bill. "Felix, old settler, that gun of yours is pointing right at me. Is it easy on the trigger?"
"Mighty easy," said Felix Craft, altering slightly the angle of the weapon's barrel.
Billy hitched himself up to a sitting position. By means of the bed's two pillows he made himself comfortable against the wall.
"You spoke of some business," he said. "Le's hear it."
Tip cleared his throat. "It ain't much. All we want is for you to leave us alone."
"Seems to me you asked me something like that before," mused Billy.
"And your answer was unsatisfactory."
"What kind of an answer did you expect?"
"We expected you'd be a sensible man, the sort of feller who wouldn't throw down his friends."
"You said that before, too."
Tip nodded. "We still think maybe you can be brought to see our side of it."
"We don't want to do anything we'd all be sorry for," Felix Craft nipped in significantly.
"Hear the clanking chains," said Billy. "The man's threatening me, I do believe."
Craft returned his stare woodenly.
"You see," Tip remarked, "we expect to do a li'l business this year."
"Do you think this will be a good year for business?" Billy cocked a questioning eyebrow.
"We hope so, we hope so," pronounced Tip. "I'll be open with you, Bill. If you keep on nosing into our affairs the way you've started in, we'll lose money. Couldn't help but lose it. You didn't take office till the first of January and business won't be done in any volume till well into the year——"
"When the ground is hard," interrupted Billy, "and the volume of business won't be apt to leave telltale tracks. I get the innards of your meaning."
"Exactly. So you see how absolutely necessary it is for us to be sure that you won't horn into any of our li'l deals."
"We intend to be sure," declared Craft.
"Tip," said Billy, "that man is threatening me again. You stop him. He makes me nervous. Sometimes I almost think he means it."
"I'm afraid he does mean it," said Tip. "I—we don't want to do you any harm, Bill, physically or otherwise. You understand, that, don't you?"
"Seein' that you keep on tellin' me so over and over, I'll try and believe it. But what I want to know is if you decide finally to do me harm, physically or otherwise, what kind of harm you'll do. Will you drop me over the cliff on a dark and moonlight night and dash my quiverin' body to death on the cruel rocks below, or will you slip a li'l wolf poison into my morning coffee, or will you just cut my throat or what? I'd like to know. Honest, I would. My curiosity is standin' on its hind legs."
"It's no joke," Tip told him seriously.
"Of course it ain't. Who said it was. Not me. I'm serious as lead in your lung. Likewise I'm scared to death. If I was standin' up you'd hear my knees clacking together. Not to disappoint you I'll shake the bed. There! How's that?"
He grinned at them disarmingly. They did not return the grin.
"Might as well tell him now," suggested Craft.
Tip nodded. "I was going to. Bill, you left your office in Golden Bar last night." He paused, looking up at the ceiling.
"You needn't try to make me think you're making it up as you go along," Billy fleered with a wink. "I know better. Flap along, flap along."
"You took your rifle with you and both your guns," resumed Tip. "You went to the stable and saddled your red-and-white pinto and rode out of town."
"Right down Main Street, I suppose, where everybody could see me?"
"Nothing so coarse as that. You were careful to strike the shelter of the cottonwoods that grow so close to the rear of your corral."
Bill's eyes widened with well-feigned enjoyment. He was reasonably sure he knew what was coming. "I'll bet somebody saw me, alla same."
"Several people saw you, saw you so plainly that they could swear to your identity on the witness stand."
Billy leaned forward interestedly. "They could, but would they?"
"All five of 'em would."
"Five, huh? Don't you think that's a good many folks to have on hand so providentially, a night like last night? Raining and blowing for Gawd's sake, remember? You don't want to override this thing—whatever it is."
Felix Craft laughed sardonically. "We won't. Don't you worry any about that, Bill. We've thought it out pretty average careful."
"That's good. I'd be sorry to see you fellers make any mistakes. Go'n, Tippy, old settler. You've got to where me and my gallant steed are a-skulking in the underbrush with half the town watching us like lynxes. What did I do next?"
"You haven't done it yet. And whether you do it or not all depends on yourself. If you stay stubborn, then this afternoon you'll hold up the Hillsville stage."
"Don't lemme forget myself too much. Will I wear a mask?"
"Naturally—and your horse will be seen, your red-and-white pinto that everybody knows. It's something like the trick you worked on Driver and Slike. We listened very careful to your testimony at the hearing. We're grateful to you for the idea, Bill."
Bill tossed away all credit with a wave of his hand. "Oh, you clever fellers would have thought of something just as good. Trust you. Next."
"Everybody on the stage will be able to swear to your clothes and your horse and your guns. One of your guns has a brass guard. That gun especially will be remembered."
"You do think of everything," Bill said in admiration. "But does it sound natural that I'd be using my horse, especially such a conspicuous-lookin' horse as that red-and-white pinto, right where everybody in the stage could see him? Even if I am crazy enough to hold up the stage, you've gotta give me credit for a li'l sense."
"I said there wouldn't be any coarse work," averred Tip. "Your horse will be tied in a li'l patch of woods put of sight of the stage, but just about the time you're lining the passengers up on the trail, your horse will bust out of the li'l patch of woods and show himself plain for everybody to take a look at."
"Somebody will have to drive him out. Suppose he's seen, too?"
Tip shook a lazy head. "Not him. He won't be seen. It will all look mighty natural like an accident. Somethin' scared the horse, that's all."
"After I've robbed the stage what do I do?"
"There you have me," confessed Tip. "I don't know what you'll do. You might ride away and keep going for several weeks. That would be the sensible thing to do."
"Or I can ride back to Golden Bar and be arrested by my own deputies for stage robbery. I don't suppose anybody would believe it if I said I was kidnapped."
Tip smiled slightly. "They might. You never can tell what people would believe."
Billy drew his knees up to the level of his chin and hugged them.
"No," he drawled, "too fishy. Folks don't kidnap folks nowadays—only in books. Shucks, I'll bet you fellers were counting on just that particular snag in human nature. Looks like you've got me, don't it?"
Tip nodded his head. "Looks like it."
"You've only got yourself to blame," said Felix Craft, studying the gun on the table so handy to his fingers.
"True," acquiesced Billy. "I've only got myself to blame. So what care I for poverty or precious stones? Look here, fellow citizens, who is going to take my part in this stage hold-up?"
"I will," said Craft modestly. "I rode your pinto out of town last night, and I think I made a good impression. Yeah, I'm sure I did. And I have more than a sneaking idea I can get away with the hold-up."
"Don't doubt it," said Billy. "Don't doubt it for a minute. You've got nerve enough, I know that, and we're about of a size. I—uh—I thought there was something familiar about that vest you're wearing. And are those my other pants you have on? The table hides 'em so I can't tell for sure."
"They are your other pants, and your coat and hat are hanging on a hook in the kitchen. I had to put your spurs on my boots though. Yours were too small."
"Oh, I'm sorry," mourned Billy, genuine concern in his tone. "If I'd only known— However, suppose some one in the stage puts a hole in your face right over the eye, Felix. Have you thought of that?"
Craft nodded. "We have to take some chances."
"That's so. You've got a sporting spirit after all, Crafty. You'd think running a gambling house so long would have taken it out of you, sort of. Might be your ranch has saved you. And suppose I don't feel like having you risk your valuable life, Crafty, what then?"
"Then the deal can be arranged," Tip answered for Craft. "Give us your word Bill, and you can walk out that door and ride back to Golden Bar right after breakfast. Right now, if you don't want to wait."
Billy looked incredulous. "You mean to tell me, Tip, that you'd take my bare word?"
"You're whistling we would," Tip declared heartily. "Everybody knows your word is good."
"I've never broken it yet, but don't you see, once broken, what good is it?"
"But if you give it, you wouldn't break it. We know you."
"But if I give my word to you to do this thing, I will have broken it—to the territory. When I took office I made oath to obey and uphold the laws. I guess maybe you forgot that."
Tip looked a trifle dashed. "Well—" he began.
"You see," interrupted Billy, "If I broke my word to the territory, I'd break it to you likely. Anyway, what guarantee have you that I wouldn't?"
"Looks like there was only one trail out," Craft said briefly.
"Gimme something to eat first," Billy implored, rubbing his empty stomach.
"We'll do that much for you," said Tip. "And while you're eatin' you think it over. There's a lot to be said for what we want you to do. Think how easy it is, Bill. Just go a li'l slow is all we want. And think what you get by it—complete freedom otherwise and that ten thousand a year easy money we spoke of a while back. Ten thousand ain't to be sneezed at these days. I dunno where you'd make it any easier."
"Neither do I," Billy admitted frankly.
"You don't want to go to jail now, do you, Bill?" wheedled Tip.
"Sure not," was the prompt answer.
"Of course you don't. And if you decide to accept our offer, Bill, the secret will be left behind right in this room. No one will ever know anything about it. To your friends you will be one of the straightest sheriffs Crocker County ever had. Oh, I know what you're thinking of. You're afraid of what Hazel Walton might think. But——"
"Let's leave her out of this," Bill struck in sharply.
"All right," acquiesced Tip, with a slight cough, "we will. Alla same, Bill, who's to ever know what you did?"
"I'd know for one," Billy observed simply. "And suppose I tell somebody? You know I never could keep a secret."
"I told you how it would be, Tip," remarked Craft. "He's too damn honest for any use."
Billy nodded his gratitude. "Felix, I thank you. At least you are a friend of mine."
"You forget me," said the disappointed Tip. "If it hadn't been for the ground-and-lofty talking done by yours truly, you, William, would have already gone where the good Indians go. I can tell you, Felix and Sam are downright disgruntled with you."
"Felix, I take it all back," grieved Billy. "At the first convenient opportunity I shall drop a li'l arsenic in your coffee or a li'l lead pill in your system. I dunno which yet. And that goes for you too, Sam."
"What's that?" queried Sam, entering with a large platter of ham, eggs and potatoes and setting it down on the table. When Bill had explained, he smiled grimly. "Yep," said Sam Larder. "You've been a thorn in our well-known side for some time. Trimming you off the parent stem would do you—and us—a heap of good."
"I see," remarked Billy, sliding from the bed and hooking up a chair to the table, "I see that the patient is not yet out of danger. But the doctors have not completely despaired of his life. How about it, Tip? You haven't given me up yet, have you?"
"Bill," said Tip irritably, "you're a fool."
"But not a damn fool," returned Bill with his mouth full. "You'll have to admit there is a method in my madness."