The Mesa Trail Read online

  CHAPTER XIII--THADY SHEA STARTS HOME

  In the early evening Thady Shea reached Magdalena. He turned in his teamand buckboard to the livery stable, paid for its use from the moneygiven him by Fred Ross, and with the little suitcase in his hand leftthe stable office. The first person he encountered was Fred Ross.

  "Hello!" said Ross, grinning. "Thought maybe you'd show up this evenin',so I hung around. How's tricks?"

  "Fine," answered Shea, delightedly. "I'm hungry."

  "So'm I. Let's eat. I got a friend waitin' to meet ye--he's leavin'to-night."

  Shea gladly followed to the Hotel Aragon. He was to-night blissfullyhappy. For the first time in years he felt like a boy. It was as thoughthe reparation made to Mackintavers, and the brief but emphaticexpression of his own mind to Mackintavers, had wiped away all pastthings. Atonement was over and done with. He was free to go where hewould.

  From one of the rocking-chairs in the long, narrow lobby of the hotelarose a man of girth and twinkling of eye, who came to meet them. HimRoss briefly introduced as Bill Murray, and urged haste in reaching thedining room. Thady Shea left the battered little yellow suitcase on thehat rack beside the dining-room doors, which were just about to close,and the three men hastily entered the nearly empty room.

  Fred Ross had known nothing definite about Thady Shea's business withMackintavers, but possibly he had conjectured a good deal. He wasplainly much relieved to see his friend safely back.

  "Bill's running a newspaper over to St. Johns," he confided, when themeal was under way. "He'd heard about you, Shea, and was kind o' set onmeeting you. Wants to get the straight o' that yarn about you andDorales. He got laid up here with a busted steering gear, and aimed togo home to-day, but waited over. Now he's goin' back to-night, so hesays. It sure beats all how a fellow gets in a hell of a hurry just whenother folks want him to loaf around a spell!"

  Murray tipped Thady Shea a jovial wink.

  "Fred ain't lonesome, much," he said, wheezily. "Got a girl here. Fredreckons that the more he talks about stayin', the more I'll be set ongoin'--which is the same true. Human nature is ornery as the devil,ain't it now? Well, I s'pose you ain't picked up any news to-day, Shea?"

  "I have, sir," intoned Thady, "an item of importance. A striped Indian,of name unknown, was overcome by dire fatality this morn. Upon the roadDeath ambushed him, and maimed his faithful steed, and laid him low. Anautomobile--mark the irony!--became the instrument of darkling fate, andbrought to this poor aborigine the end of all things, and the close oflife."

  Bill Murray stared open-mouthed, as did most people who heard Thady'ssonorously rolling accents for the first time. Then he emitted a wheezychuckle.

  "Oh! You mean the Injun buck that got straddled by Doniphan's flivver!Heard all about him to-day. He's layin' over to the funeral parloursnow. Some of his tribe's in town, and they made Doniphan give him a realburial. Joke on Doniphan, ain't it?"

  "And," pursued Thady, "at Mackintavers' ranch this afternoon I gatheredthere had been a robbery. What worldly pelf was taken, I know not, butdread confusion reigned upon the place."

  "Gosh!" Bill Murray started up from his chair. "Say--that's red-hotnews, Shea! Don't tell any one else around here. I'll run out and phonethe ranch. Got to run off my paper to-morrow night; I'll pull some o'that plate off the front page and run this in a box. Whee! Back in aminute!"

  Bill Murray departed like a genial cyclone.

  Now Thady Shea told about that battered little suitcase. He was not surewhat should be done with the thing, and asked the advice of Fred Ross.He had not opened the suitcase; ever since finding it, he had been onthe go. Besides, the suitcase was locked, and Thady hesitated to smashit open.

  "Likely it was bounced off some ranch car or buckboard," deduced Ross."Belong to that dead Injun? No chance. None whatever! You never seen anInjun with one o' them things, and anyhow, no Injun riding hossbackwould tote a suitcase along. No, none whatever! And that grip wasn'tmade to tie on a saddle, neither. Reckon you'd better look inside, andif there ain't any indication of the owner, then read the papers for anad. Well, what ye going to do? Will ye come back to the ranch with me?"

  Thady Shea did not know what he wanted to do. He wondered if he hadfulfilled his extremely vague ideas of wandering and making good in theworld. In a sense, he had done so. He realized it now, just as herealized that it is very difficult to view one's own immediate self andenvironment with any degree of cool detachment.

  As to Mackintavers, as to any peril which he himself might bring uponMrs. Crump, Thady Shea had long since abandoned that nebulous idea. Hehad met Mackintavers, and feared him no longer. Of Dorales he did notthink particularly.

  He had no great desire to return to the Ross ranch. Try as he would, hecould see no purpose ahead of him save in the one place--Number Sixteen.All that held him back was that strange feeling in his soul, a feelingthat had been there twenty years and more; a feeling as though somethingwere knotted somewhere about his soul, stifling him. What use to returnto Mrs. Crump? Still, there was the only purpose he could see.

  He had conquered the old enemy; of this he felt certain. Temptationswould come, of course. Temptations were bound to come; they came at oddintervals; they came here in this hotel dining room, where he couldcatch some vagrant odour of whiskey from an indefinable source. Yet theywould not overcome him anew, he was confident.

  "I think," he said, slowly, staring at the tablecloth, "I think I'dbetter head for Mrs. Crump's mine, Ross."

  There was that in his voice which admitted of no argument. Ross shovedback his chair.

  "Well, wait a minute, will you? I want to speak to Bill Murray. Order mesome o' that pie and another cup o' coffee, Shea."

  Fred Ross opened the dining-room doors, which had been closed, anddeparted to the lobby of the hotel. He found genial Bill Murray justturning from the telephone, and wearing a look of puzzled excitement.

  "Get the ranch?" asked Ross. The other nodded and glanced aroundcautiously.

  "Yes. Talked to Old Man Durfee--he's manager for Sandy. He said thatSandy and Abel Dorales had just left for Magdalena; he admitted therehad been a robbery but would say nothing except that it didn't amount tomuch. Injun relics, he said."

  "Huh!" Fred Ross gazed at his friend, narrow-eyed. "I bet if it wasInjun relics, it was some partic'lar kind, then. That sounds damn'fishy, Bill."

  "Sure does, but she'll make a grand little story, played up. This hereShea just came from there, didn't he? And everybody knows about him andDorales and the bad blood."

  The two men looked at each other, surmise in their eyes. Rossthoughtfully rubbed his chin, remembering about that battered littlesuitcase on the hat rack. He did not entirely believe the tale told byThady Shea, the tale about finding it in the road. That was tooimprobable, unless the dead Indian had been carrying the suitcase--whichseemed, likewise, very improbable.

  "I shouldn't wonder, now," said Ross, musingly. "Shea, he's the calm,hell-nervy sort, he sure is. Likely Dorales or old Sandy tried to run ablazer on him, and he played merry hell with them. Likely they hadsomething he thought belonged to someone else, and he just up and tookit. H'm! But the robbery had happened before he got there, he _said_.Well, if he don't want to tell all he knows, that's his business. Eh?"

  "I coincide," assented Murray, curtly. Fred Ross briefly told him aboutthe suitcase, in so far as he knew about it.

  "Now," pursued Ross, "you and I ain't blamin' him or any other man forgettin' old Mackintavers up on his ear. But Shea, in spite o' thestories goin' around about him, ain't no fighter, Bill. He's a downrighthonest man, and he's terrible when he gets roused, but I don't guess hecould fight for little apples. _And_, he don't know Sandy and Doralesare comin' to town."

  "I see," said Murray, thoughtfully. "But he ain't the kind to run away,Fred."

  "C'rect. But why should he know anything about Sandy coming? We'd oughtto see that he avoids 'em, so to speak. You're goin' west to-night. Yougot room, ain't you?"

  "Oh!" Murr
ay chuckled, admiringly. "So that's the game! Sure, I gotroom. Where is he goin', though?"

  "Near as I got the location o' the mine he's aiming for, it's in thehills above them lava beds, down beyond Zacaton City and No Agua. You'regoin' west by the highway, which is north o' there--a long sight north.But if you were to run a few mile out of your way, you could hit downthe Old Fort Tularosa trail, which is an auto road now; you could dropShea by the Beaver Canon trail, down within thirty mile o' home, more orless. I'll send Sandy and Dorales on to St. Johns after you, savvy?"

  For a moment the two men conferred eagerly.

  Unobserved by them, meantime, a man had entered the hotel and wasstanding at the cigar case, at one side of the desk. He was buyingcigars. He was roughly dressed, but spoke perfect English. When heturned to the cigar lighter, disclosing his face to view, one could seethat he was very swarthy, very dark of colour--an Indian, perhaps.

  This man straightened up, puffing at his cigar. His eyes flitted to thelittle battered suitcase, which reposed on the hat rack, and dweltthere; thus dwelling, his eyes narrowed slightly. He turned and left thehotel.

  "Who? Him?" said the hotel proprietor in response to a question from aman near by. "Why, he's Thomas Twofork; yep, an Injun, from Cochitipueblo, I hear. Been in town two-three days now. Got money, they say,heaps of it."

  Ignorant of what had transpired in the lobby, Thady Shea was glad whenhis companions rejoined him and sat down to their interrupted repast.Fred Ross broached the subject of departure; he broached it withelaborate carelessness.

  "Bill is headin' for home right away," he said, "and he goes withinthirty mile, more or less, of where your mine's located, Shea. If youfigger on walking, that would be a good lift. If you go back with meto-morrow, you won't get near so nigh home."

  "Oh!" Thady Shea saw no guile; he looked gratefully surprised, and feltit. He had anticipated a long trip via Zacaton City. That route would beattended with dangers from Dorales or the latter's men, besides havingthe expense of a car to take him to Number Sixteen.

  "Oh! I'd be glad indeed--but do you have to leave to-night?"

  "You bet," said Murray, emphatically. "The minute I get this here piedown. I got the ol' car all ready to hike, and I'm goin' to hike some. Iaim to get home about sun-up, sleep two-three hours, then get to work onthe paper. She's got to be run off to-morrow night, see? And I'd sure beglad o' your company, Shea. It's a lonesome trip at night from here overthrough Datil Canon and all."

  Surely, thought Shea, here was fate aiding him! Barely had he resolvedto seek Mrs. Crump and the mine, than this opportunity offered. A walkof a few miles did not worry him in the least.

  "Thank you, Murray," he rejoined. "I'll go, with pleasure."

  Ten minutes later, the three men left the hotel, walked up to thecorner, and turned in to the garage behind the trading store. BillMurray paid his debts to the proprietor and sought his own car.

  "Well, Ross, I'll say good-bye for a while, at least." Shea turned andshook hands with his friend. "I'll see you again, that's sure. Oh--bythe way, hadn't we better open that suitcase? I forgot about it. Let'sget it broken open here, and----"

  Ross interposed a hasty negation. He wanted only to get Shea safely outof town before Mackintavers and Dorales should arrive.

  "No, don't get Murray nervous, hangin' around here, Shea. He's deadanxious to be off, and we better not give him any delay. I'm surecurious about what's in that case, just the same. S'pose you drop me aline when you find out, and give my regards to Mis' Crump! Maybe I'lldrift over your way some time; if not, you know where to find me."

  "You bet," assented Thady Shea, warmly.

  Murray motioned Thady Shea into the front seat, and took the batteredlittle suitcase to shove it into the rear of the car. An ejaculationalmost escaped his lips as he felt its weight. It was heavy,tremendously heavy!

  "Ore, likely," he muttered. "I bet he don't walk thirty mile with_that_!"

  Thady Shea and Fred Ross parted with a last handshake. Each of them hadprobed deep into the other man; each of them had found the otherstrangely dissimilar, yet strangely attuned in spirit to himself; eachof them had found the other to be a man. Their handshake was firm andquick and strong.

  Ross cranked the car. Bill Murray backed her from the garage, roared alast farewell, and headed out into the west and the night.

  Fred Ross went back to the hotel after calling upon certain friends ofhis; for Ross had a fairly good idea of what was coming next. Histheories were not altogether correct, but they attained pretty correctresults.

  So, after a short time, Fred Ross returned to the hotel and sat down inthe lobby, just under the big map of New Mexico that hung upon the southwall. Immediately around him the comfortable oak rocking-chairs werevacant; but to right and left, three chairs away, sat red-faced men whoread newspapers--two on either hand. These four men displayed anostentatious lack of interest in each other and in Fred Ross. Over thatsection of the lobby hung an ill-defined air of crisis, of expectation,of foreboding.

  Over opposite, in a corner of the big front window, sat a man, astranger to Fred Ross. This man had come into town on the late afternoontrain. He was palpably a city man, palpably not of this part of thecountry; he had registered at the desk as James Z. Premble of New York.Speculating idly as he waited, Fred Ross set him down as a high-classdrummer.

  Thus waited the six men, as though they were awaiting some event aboutto happen: Ross, seated under the big wall map; the four red-faced menwho read newspapers with marked absorption; and, in the corner of thewindow, James Z. Premble of New York.

  Suddenly and abruptly it happened. It happened just as Fred Ross hadanticipated. The hotel door opened and into the lobby walked SandyMackintavers with Abel Dorales at his elbow. They had been to the liverystable, they had been to one place and another, and they had soonlearned that Thady Shea, easily noted and remembered by all who saw him,had been in the company of Ross and Murray. Both Ross and Murray wereknown to Mackintavers and his field marshal.

  Upon entering, Abel Dorales passed straight on to the cigar stand, wherehe stood idly gossiping with the proprietor. Mackintavers, with a waveof his hand and a grunt, halted in front of Fred Ross, and dropped intoa chair beside the latter.

  "Hello, Ross. Just the man I was looking for. Know a man name o' Shea,Thady Shea?"

  "Evening," returned Ross, easily. "Sure I know him. Seen him a whileago."

  "Know where he is now?" asked Mackintavers without too great show ofinterest.

  "Uh-huh. He went off with Bill Murray to St. Johns a couple of hoursago. Murray was in some hurry, believe me! He'd been laid up here with abusted car, and had to get out his paper to-morrow sure pop, so he aimedto travel some to-night. You interested in Shea?"

  "Some." Mackintavers bit into a cigar. Over the cigar, his eyes fellupon James Z. Premble of New York, who was also looking at him. After aninstant Premble rose and left the hotel.

  Ross had not hesitated to impart the information about Thady Shea, forthe excellent reason that if Mackintavers followed Shea to St. Johns, hewould miss Thady Shea entirely. Therein Fred Ross made a mistake. It didnot occur to him that Dorales, in a high-powered car, might follow thetracks of Murray's flivver where it struck from the highroad upon theOld Fort Tularosa trail.

  "'Bliged to ye, Ross." With this curt speech, Mackintavers heavedhimself out of his chair and went to the door. He passed out into thenight.

  Abel Dorales left the cigar stand, and also started for the door. But hestopped before Fred Ross, exchanged a word of greeting, and his whiteteeth showed in a smile. It was not a pleasant smile.

  "I hear you're going to run sheep on your ranch, Ross," he said clearly."Bad manners for an old cowman, isn't it?"

  The four red-faced men laid aside their newspapers. They seemed to takesudden interest in Abel Dorales. Fred Ross looked up, unsmiling, hiseyes hard and cold.

  "Handsome is as handsome does, Abel. Reckon I'd sooner run sheep thanget chloroformed and hogtied tryin' to jump
a claim."

  A fleeting contraction passed across the face of Abel Dorales. His eyesnarrowed to thin slits. His nostrils quivered like the nose of a dogsniffing game. He became white-lipped, cruel, venomous.

  The four red-faced men stirred. One of them rose, yawning, and stretchedhimself as does a weary man who thinks well of bed for the night. AbelDorales took sudden warning. He looked to the right and to the left;then, without a word more, he turned on his heel and walked away,following Mackintavers out into the night.

  "Trust a Mex to smell trouble!" said one of the men to the left of FredRoss. "He reckoned we was planted to do him up."

  "Well, wasn't we?" queried someone. All laughed in unison. Ross smiledgrimly and left his chair.

  "Much obliged to ye, boys. I didn't know they would come alone, or Iwouldn't ha' bothered ye."

  Outside the hotel, meantime, Mackintavers had joined James Z. Premble,who appeared to have been awaiting him. A moment later Abel Dorales,mouthing low and vitriolic curses, joined them. In silence the three menturned to the left and walked down to the railroad track. There, beyondthe warehouse, they stood with open and empty space around them, andnone to overhear.

  "Didn't look for ye quite so soon, Premble," said Mackintavers,chuckling a little as he used the name.

  "Got a good chance at my man," returned the other. "Came in thisafternoon, Sandy, but couldn't catch you at the ranch. Ready for me towork?"

  "Aiblins, yes; reckon we'd better get busy, you and I." He turned toDorales. "Abel, our man has gone to St. Johns with Murray. You haveplenty o' friends in that Mormon town, so take the big car and moseyalong. Do whatever you want with Shea, but bring me back that bunch o'stone gods if ye value your life! I'll be at Mrs. Crump's location."

  "All right," snapped Dorales. "Is he much ahead of me?"

  "Two hours, in a flivver. You can't fail to land him this time. Goodluck, boy!"

  Dorales snarled farewell, and swung off in the darkness. Mackintaversturned to his friend, James Z. Premble.

  "I'm gettin' old," he complained. "Been out chasin' a thief all day andI'm no good for an all-night ride now. I'll take a room at the hotel.Drop in after a spell and we'll arrange the details. You got the stuff?"

  "Every blessed paper and letter. Everything O.K.," asserted Premble.

  The two men melted into the night.

  Five minutes later Dorales was filling his gasoline tank at the garage.He made brief inquiries about Murray's flivver and the brand of tiresthereon. Off to one side, a swarthy man was hastily working upon the fanbelt of a big car, which had twice broken as his engine started; thisswarthy man took keen and unobserved interest in the questions ofDorales. The name of this swarthy man was Thomas Twofork, and he was anIndian of the Cochiti pueblo. Twenty minutes after Dorales had departedThomas Twofork had finished his repairs and headed his car out upon thewestward road to St. Johns.

  An hour afterward, well into the night, an automobile came intoMagdalena from the opposite direction. It came in by the eastern road,the road that comes up from Socorro through Blue Canon, the road thatcomes south to Socorro from Albuquerque and Santa Fe. This automobiledid not turn into a garage; instead, it passed on through the businesssection of the town and did not slacken speed until it reached theMexican or western quarter.

  There it came to a halt and its horn squawked four times. Itssearchlight revealed a small adobe house with blue-painted doors. One ofthese doors opened to show a man clad in dishevelled night attire. Theautomobile drove on into the yard; its lights flickered out.

  "Is that you, Juan Baca?" queried a soft, gentle voice. "Ah, yes; it isI, Coravel Tio. Will you give me lodging for the night?"

  "Senor, my house and all it contains belong to you!"

  Coravel Tio passed into the little adobe house.