# Argosy All-Story Weekly/Volume 202/Number 4/The Saga of Silver Bend

from Argosy All-Story Weekly, 30 March 1929, pp. 523–541
The stallion rose and headed out into that swirling sea
Bushwhackers and loyal cowmen meet at last in a titanic struggle to determine whether Bell Holderness's gang or Randy Ross shall win the rangeland
LEADING UP TO THIS INSTALLMENT
DEATH strikes at Railroad Ranch, located in the bottle-shaped loop the river makes at Silver Bend, when Asa Ross, son of old Railroad Ross, is shot down at a round-up. It is the outbreak of a long-dormant feud. He was killed by Bell Holderness's gang, who are chased into the woods by the Railroad punchers. One of the fugitives falls dead: it is Ben Tarleton, scapegrace son of the fiery Southerner, Judge Tarleton.
Randy Ross, Railroad's youngest and wildest son, had ducked out after the shooting, afraid to face the sight of death. Two punchers, Sankey, and Dolly—a round-faced, fearless little cowboy—set out for the town of Willow Mills, and get Randy out of the saloon. On their way back to the ranch, at the neck of the “bottle,” they hear two shots—and come upon the dead bodies of Peyton Ross—the other brother—and a Railroad puncher.
Randy, unable to run away, faces his fear of death and conquers it. From then on, he and Dolly, who understood and helped him, are inseparable.
Judge Tarleton appears at Railroad Ranch, and sternly demands to know who assassinated Ben—for he was shot in the back, and no Tarleton, he says, ever ran from an enemy. Railroad thought Ben was shot in flight; and Tarleton calls them all murderers.
Randy and Dolly are riding some distance behind Judge Tarleton, on their way to the round-up grounds, when a bushwhacker from across the river shoots the judge, and takes a shot at them.
Dolly gets the man.
The judge manages to ride away: but he is sure he was ambushed by Railroad men, and his son Lav, with Bell Holderness and other Holderness men, kill two Railroad punchers and order two others, whom they stuck up, to tell Railroad to surrender Randy Ross and the murderer of Ben Tarleton, or prepare to be shot on sight.
Bell Holderness, crafty schemer who is plotting to get Tarleton's daughter Zella, and also Railroad Ranch, thinks his schemes are succeeding. But Randy and Dolly break up an ambush, and hang one man who was bushwhacking across the river. Later they catch Steve Holderness, who had shot Asa Ross, and string him up.
But Randy gets small pleasure from this sudden justice, for he is burning with jealousy and disappointment; Zella, temporarily deceived by Bell Holderness's story of the shootings, and thinking he was still the weak Randy of earlier days, has written him urging him to flee the country before the Tarleton boys get him for shooting the judge. Randy returns to Railroad Ranch and finds that Sanky and another puncher have captured “Bud” and “Turk”, two Holderness gunmen who were present at the round-up affray. They have confessed that Steve shot Asa, and that Bell Holderness had shot Ben Tarleton in the back, to ally the Tarletons with them against the Railroad people.

### 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 overanxious. 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 now 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.

### CHAPTER X.
#### Dolly Tells the Truth.

JUDGE TARLETON lay on his bed. Cliff sat beside him, facing the door, as Dolly entered. Lav, his dark brows drawn in a scowl, stood just back of Cliff's chair. This man was a Railroad rider. Old Railroad Ross had admitted some man of his outfit had killed Ben. It was well known that the men of the Railroad outfit stuck together as one man. This little red-haired, blue-eyed manikin was one of them, for all his boyish looks.
He might be the very man who had fired the fatal shot.
Zella started to introduce him, realized that she didn't know his name, and halted.
“Never mind the introduction,” said the judge. “We know he belongs to the Railroad outfit, and that's enough. What have you got to say for yourself, young man?”
Dolly saw that he was starting into this interview with a handicap. It was the handicap of being a Railroad puncher, but he kept his wits about him.
“You fellows think Randy shot the judge. I'm here to tell you that he didn't. The man who shot you, judge, was an H Bar man called Red. He's dead.”
“How do you know he's dead?”
“I killed him about five minutes after he shot you.”
“You killed him? You talk mighty cool about killing men.”
“I am right cool about killing a man that lays in the brush and shoots innocent men like they were sheep-killing dogs.”
“Huh! Well, I'm not hurt very bad. What my boys and me have against the Railroad outfit is the killing of my son Ben at the round-up.”
“They didn't kill him.”
“Didn't kill him! Why, Railroad Ross himself told me they did, and whatever else he is, Railroad is not a liar. We don't know a great deal about that fight that day, but we've got some friends, and they told us part of it. Enough to satisfy us that—”
“Beg pardon, sir, but did they tell you who killed Asa Ross, and what for?”
There was that question again.
“No!” thundered the judge. “We are not interested in that. If you came here to insinuate that Ben killed—”
“I didn't. I came here to get word to you that the Railroad outfit didn't kill Ben, and that Randy didn't shoot you. Instead of hunting Randy to kill him, you ought to be helping him against his enemies.”
“Oh, Randy's begging for help, is he?” put in Lav.
Dolly turned his blue eyes on Lav, and for once the stalwart Tarleton, patrician though he was, quailed before a glance from a pair of baby-blue eyes.
Dolly was dangerously near an explosion, but he checked himself.
“No. Randy isn't asking for any more help than he's got. He don't need any more. He don't know I came here. I took a chance on getting killed to help you.”
“Keep quiet, Lav,” said the judge, as Lav opened his mouth to speak. “Now, young man, this farce has gone far enough. I gave my word to my daughter that you wouldn't be harmed if you came here. There is just one question that we want answered. Who killed Ben?”
The crisis had come. Dolly pulled himself together. He was pitted against the champion liar and coldest schemer in the world, but he came up to the scratch.
“Bell Holderness.”
“NO!” cried the three men together, while Zella, standing in the door, clenched her hands until the nails cut the flesh.
“You can't get away with that!” cried Lav. “Bell has been our friend all through this trouble, and still is. You can't stand here in this house and try to blacken the name of our friend.”
White-faced, Lav took a step forward, with fists clenched. Dolly stood his ground, a narrow white line showing along the edge of his lips.
“Lav!” called the old judge. “My word is out that this boy won't be mistreated in my house. And after all, he's just a hired man, doing what he is told to do.”
“A minute, judge,” and Dolly's voice hummed with the tenseness of it. “I told you that nobody sent me here. I am just a hired man, but my word is as good as yours. Friend or no friend, Bell Holderness killed your son.”
“Would you like to face Bell Holderness with that statement?” snapped Lav.
“Yes! I'd like to face him, but not alone, when he's got a gang of killers with him, like he had when he murdered Keech and Brazos.”
The shot went home. To be classed as one of the H Bar gang was too much for Lav. He went white to his lips and recoiled a step. Dolly saw what was in his eyes. Lav was insulted, and to insult a Tarleton was to seek deadly danger. Dolly knew some sort of showdown was imminent.
He had taken a positive stand. He might not get shot there in the house, but Lav would meet him as soon as he got away from the premises. A tense moment followed Dolly's statement. A Tarleton had been charged by innuendo of being a member of a gang of cold killers.
Finally Lav spoke. “I guess you know what you've done, and there is only one way out of it. I'm not asking you to do that; I'm telling you that you have got to do it.” Then turning to his brother: “Get your hat and gun, Cliff, and tell Pompey to bring our horses. We're going to take this fellow to Willow Mills and let him face Bell Holderness with this wild tale of his.”
Cliff left the room, and Lav spoke again to Dolly: “You may sit down.”
“No, thank you,” said Dolly. “I shoot better standing!”
“Shoot better! What do you mean by that?”
“I mean that when folks don't trust me, I don't trust them. You been wanting to kill Randy Ross. You've got the killing idea in your head, and you'll sure kill somebody if you don't look out.”
“Father! Lav!” cried Zella, speaking for the first time. “Can't you see this young man is telling you the truth!”
“I can see that he has insulted me, and tried to blacken the name of the best friend we have,” snapped Lav, “and I'm going to give him a chance to square it.”
“You're going to crowd Bell Holderness, and get killed yourself,” Zella almost choked.
“No, I'm not,” Lav snapped. “I won't get killed at all right now, for I'm not going to turn my back to this friend of yours and Randy's. I told you to stay out of this mess. Whenever a woman breaks into a thing of this kind, she only makes more trouble for everybody. You were told to give Randy Ross up and forget him.”
Zella made no reply. And neither did Dolly. Anywhere else on earth but where they were Lav would have answered to Dolly at once for his insinuation that the little puncher would shoot him in the back if he had a chance. By the time the horses were ready Dolly had cooled a bit. They went out to mount, where Dolly had left his own horse.
“Now get this,” said Lav. “We're going to Willow Mills, and you are going to face Bell Holderness. There is but one of you and two of us. If you start anything, you may get one of us, but the other will get you. If you want to take a chance on a trade like that, it's up to you.”
DOLLY was in real danger now, and, as usual in such cases, he began to banter them. His mission had failed. He wanted to kill Lav Tarleton for his insults, but he mustn't do it. As far as the two to one odds were concerned, that troubled him not at all. He was sure he could outshoot the two of them, but he was there to help Randy and Zella.
If he shot one or both of the Tarleton boys, it would be believed that Randy had sent him to do it. Besides that, he had no ill will toward Cliff. That young man had spoken but a few words to him, and they had been courteous ones. Cliff and Zella were alike, and evidently favored their mother. Lav was like the judge, but lacked the discretion of the judge's years.
“Maybe you fellows better take my gun,” jeered Dolly. “You'll be safer, and I won't be afraid.”
“We're safe enough,” retorted Lav, “and you're safe enough with us, as long as you don't try to get too funny. You'll need your gun when you face Bell Holderness.”
Dolly knew that was true. Unless he missed his guess, Bell knew enough by this time to make him desperate. Bell's only hope for safety lay in killing a few people, himself among others. These thoughts were in his mind as they stopped in front of the Cottonwood, dismounted, and went in. Two men, in chaps, spurs, and other garments of the range rider, were standing at the bar, drinking.
“Where's Bell?” Lav asked the bartender.
“I don't know. Him and French Clauson rode away from here together about night. I reckon they went to the H Bar.”
“The H Bar! What business would Bell have there? He told me he had sold out all his interest over there and was not going back any more. Said he intended to build a home here at Willow Mills.”
The bartender shrugged, and said nothing. He was trying to digest a message that had come to him over the grapevine a few minutes before. The man who had brought it stepped in the back door and slipped out again. Things were not going so well at the H Bar.
“'Scuse me, pardner,” said one of the strangers. “If you mean Bell Holderness, I know where he is—or where he was about sundown. He was riding hell-for-leather for the H Bar, him and another fellow. Come take a drink, all you fellows,' and the man threw a dollar on the bar. “Speakin' of the H Bar, they been having a party of some kind over there. We come from in on the Washita, and aimed to stay all night there, but it didn't look happy.”
“What was the matter?” asked Lav.
“I don't know. There was about forty men there, some packin' one gun and some two, but nobody was talking. Some of 'em was diggin' holes in the ground, and four or five dead men lay in a wagon. It didn't look appetizing, nobody wanted to talk, we wasn't invited to stay, so we rode on.”
“Was Bell there?”
“No, sir, he wasn't, but he was goin' there. We met him and the other fellow a mile this side of the H Bar, then about a mile the other side of the river we met Steve Holderness. He wasn't hurrying so much,” and the man slowly poured another drink and swallowed it.
“DID you talk to Steve?” asked the barkeep, apparently to get away from talking about Bell.
“Why, no, we didn't,” the stranger said grimly. “Steve wasn't talking, either. He was right in the middle of the road, but couldn't get his feet on the ground. Looked like somebody had hung him out to dry. Everybody on yan side of the river has been expecting the H Bar to be took to a cleaning, but we didn't hear of it until we got there.”
“You don't speak very respectfully of the dead,” said Lav.
“Respectfully, hell, pardner! Don't nobody speak very respectfully of the Holderness gang over on the other side, whether they're dead or alive. The decent ranches, farther out in the Indian country, are getting ready to go in together and clean 'em up. Looks like if you was a cowman you'd know that.”
“I'm not a cowman,” returned Lav with dignity. “And I don't live on the other side.”
“Oh, thataway. Well, I ain't talkin' secrets. They's cowmen on this side of the river, and they know that the H Bar is nothing but a hangout for thieves and killers. It's a reg'lar vest-pocket hell, and it's got to be cleaned. Somebody, I don't know who, has trimmed it some. They told us at the H Bar that Sam was dead. We saw Steve Holderness hanging up like a side of meat. That leaves only Bell to ramrod the outfit. I guess he was going' home to lead his gang of killers against whoever it is that's riding them.”
Dolly was very much awake now. What he had heard corroborated what the prisoner had told him at the crack in the smokehouse. The clans had gathered at the H Bar. Bell had seen the end of his plans unless he struck quickly. There was only one thing for him to do now, since so many of his plans had gone awry. That was to raid Silver Bend, kill Railroad and Randy, and as many more as he could, then let his killers scatter. With Steve dead there was no longer any one to hold lands in the Indian country. He had to act, and act with all possible speed.
Dolly had put all these things together in his mind as the stranger talked. He knew men, and he knew this stranger was telling the truth. He knew, too, that the man was not just an ordinary cow-puncher, for all he was clad like one.
“Say there's about forty at the H Bar?” he asked, as the man stopped talking and rolled a smoke.
“Yes, there was about that many in sight. Probably more scattered around. I knew some of 'em. Fellows there from several gangs. Some from Yellow Hills, some from the Arbuckle Mountains, and several other hangouts. Looked like a rustler's camp-meeting. Are you a cow hand?”
“Yes, sir. Name's Joe Runnels. Work for the Railroad outfit.”
“Old Railroad Ross! You're working for a mighty square man. Thomas is my name, Alec Thomas. I run the T Stripe brand, in on the prairie between Red River and the Washita. I'm about an eighth Chickasaw, but nobody notices that, with these blue eyes of mine. Is it the Railroad that's working on the H Bar?”
“They been working on us some,” replied Dolly cautiously.
“I see. Looks like you fellows been swapping work with 'em some. Take another drink, gents. We got to find a place to sleep.”
As the men started out Thomas motioned Dolly to one side and whispered:
“1 don't know who your friends are, but you better shake 'em and get back to the Railroad. Bell Holderness has got his gang bunched for something.”
“That fellow's windy,” sneered the bartender, as the two men went out and crossed to the little hotel.
“I know part of what he said is true,” defended Dolly; and, turning to Lav: “Well, we ain't apt to see Bell to-night. What do you want to do?”
“I don't see anything we can do, except go back home.”
“All right, let's ride.”
WHEN they had almost reached the Tarleton house Dolly stopped them:
“Now see here, fellows. You talked pretty rough to me, but we'll forget that. You thought the Railroad outfit killed your brother. I've told you better, but you still don't believe it. You wouldn't believe Railroad, and you wouldn't believe Randy if he told you; but he'll never tell you anything. We can't see Bell Holderness, and he'd lie if we did see him. Anyway, I'd have killed him before he said anything, if we had met him. I can prove what I told you by witnesses that saw Bell shoot Ben in the back.”
“Where are they?”
“Under lock and key, at the Railroad.”
“We can't go there without—” and Lav stopped.
“Getting killed,” Dolly finished for him. “Yes, you can. It takes some cold nerve, because the bottom is likely to be full of H Bar killers, but one of you can go there. There's just one man there that would hurt you, and he's asleep. That's Randy.”
“Randy! Why would he hurt us?”
“Why wouldn't he? You've accused him of cold murder when he wasn't guilty. You've played in with the gang that murdered his brothers. You sent him word what would happen when you met him, and it 'll happen—to you! But Randy ain't slept none for three nights, and he's dead to the world. It's up to you now. Either come with me and get proof from those men, or else put up your guns and stay out of this mess. Make up your mind, for I can't wait. I got business to attend to.”
“I'll go with you,” said Cliff calmly.
“Let's ride, then.”
“Wait a minute,” Lav protested. “What 'll I tell father?”
“You ought to have more than you can tell him before morning, after what Thomas told you. You can tell him what Bell Holderness is, and ask why he hadn't found it out before now. You can tell him that what I told him was the truth, and Cliff will be back before morning, with proof of it. Dammit, tell anything. Tell him about the weather. Let's go, Cliff.” And Dolly set spurs to his horse.
Perfect peace and quiet was over the Silver Bend, as they rode down from the prairie and took the trail to the Railroad. Dolly was wondering how long it would remain that way. They stopped at the corral. Dolly unsaddled his horse and turned it loose, then they stole through the darkness to the back of the log house where the prisoners were. A low call of his name brought Turk, or rather Walter, as Dolly knew him, to the wall.
“Now, tell this gentleman the story you told me about the killing of Ben Tarleton,” said Dolly in a low tone.
Turk not only told it, but elaborated on it, and told it convincingly, averring again that he and his partner were making a sneak from the H Bar, because it was too tough, when they were caught.
“Satisfied now?” asked Dolly when they were back at the corral where Cliff had left his horse.
“Yes, more than satisfied. Zella told me some things that satisfied me that Bell was crooked and trying to play us for suckers, but I couldn't tell Lav and father. They won't reason in a case like this. They have to be shown. I came with you because I wanted to be able to show them.”
“Good! Now, when you convince Lav and the judge, they are going to fly right around, like the arrow on the lightning rod when the wind changes. They'll want you and Lav to come romping down here to help Randy hang Bell Holderness. Don't do it. Some more water has got to run under the bridge before Randy is fit for you and Lav to meet. He may need help, but you can't help him now.”
“Thank you,” said Cliff, wringing Dolly's hand. “I won't come into Silver Bend unless I'm sure I can do some good.” And he rode away into the night.
It was well after midnight, and Dolly was ready to call it a pretty full day. There was no sign of an attack on the ranch, and he needed sleep. He would have told Randy what he knew, or at least a part of it, but Randy needed sleep to put him in shape for what was likely to come on the morrow. A storm of disaster was brewing over Silver Bend that would have driven thoughts of sleep from Dolly's mind had he even dreamed of its terror.

### CHAPTER XI.
#### The Storm Strikes Silver Bend.

MORNING showed as peaceful a scene at Silver Bend as could have been found in all the long and winding reaches of that tawny river. The sun came up and gilded the silver of the young cottonwood trees. The dogwood was in bloom along with many other shrubs and wild flowers. A hundred mingled scents of sweetness were in the warm, damp air.
A great peace was over the world, but it was the calm before such a storm as Silver Bend had never known in all the more than thirty years that old Railroad Ross had struggled there. The elements that were to battle in that bottle and concoct a mess “unfit for human consumption,” as Sankey had said at the outset, were rapidly fermenting for the mixture.
When Cliff returned home he found his father, Lav and Zella waiting together in the judge's bedroom.
“Well, what did you find out?” asked Lav.
“Just what I expected to find; that the young fellow who was here told the truth. There is no doubt that Bell Holderness shot Ben in the back, in order to make us think the Railroad outfit did it, and draw us into the quarrel on the side of the H Bar.”
“Did you see Randy?” asked Zella.
“No; I was afraid to see him.”
“Afraid!” rumbled the judge. “No Tarleton ever was afraid of any man.”
“It wasn't the man I was afraid of. It was the result of what we had done. Lav sent Randy word that we would kill him on sight. I know what I'd do, and you know what you'd do, if a man sent you such a message. I don't want to kill Randy Ross, and I don't want him to kill me. One or the other will happen if he meets any of us before he is satisfied that we have learned the truth and changed our attitude toward him.”
“Why, nonsense!” growled the judge. “If this trouble between the Railroad and the H Bar goes on, Randy ought to be glad to have you two boys on his side of the fight.”
“That's true enough, but we can't go to him now. Dolly says he's as bitter against us as he is against the H Bar. That we all look alike to him.”
“Why, I don't understand that attitude,” said the judge.
“I do,” declared Zella. “I'm to blame for part of it. You can't go to Randy, but I can. I'll crawl on hands and knees to him and beg him to forget what has happened.”
“You'll do nothing of the kind,” snapped Lav imperiously. “I've told you to keep out of this. No Tarleton is going to beg anybody to do anything. Go to bed. We'll decide what to do.”
Zella went to her room, but not to bed. Gray dawn found her sitting at the window, looking down the river toward Silver Bend, as if she hoped to see Randy and what was happening to him. If she had seen him at that moment, she would have seen him still asleep. At sunrise she did see her two brothers mount and ride away toward Willow Mills.
“Where are the boys going?” she asked her father.
“To hunt Bell Holderness. He is a double traitor. He not only murdered my son, but accepted my hospitality and claimed to be my friend afterward. It would be a disgrace if my sons didn't hunt him down, since I am crippled and can't go myself.”
If Lav and Cliff were to shoot it out with Bell that day, they'd have to go much farther than Willow Mills. Indeed, they meant to go farther than that, if they didn't find Bell in his usual haunts.
Quite unintentionally they were putting themselves where they could not help Randy.
Failing to find Bell in the little town, they took the road north toward the H Bar. The river was low, and they took the shallow ford and crossed to the other side, hoping to meet Bell as he came to town.
No man should say they were afraid. They didn't know it, but there was nothing to be afraid of in that neighborhood, unless it were the grim fruit that still hung from a limb over the road.
At daylight, even as Zella sat looking toward Silver Bend, Bell Holderness had left the H Bar with his men. Where they were going, the men didn't know, except that they were not going toward Willow Mills.
RANDY and his father finished breakfast and stepped out of the house to start the men on their day's work, when they met Dolly. “Mr. Ross, I got to talk to you and Randy some,” Dolly remarked.
“What about?”
“Why, I went to Willow Mills last night, and—”
“Went to Willow Mills!” exclaimed Randy. “Didn't you know it was dangerous for any of our outfit to go there just now?”
“Yes, it was sorty shaky, but I found out something. Bell Holderness has gone back to the H Bar. He's got forty killers there with him. He knows Sam and Steve are dead, and he'll play his last card at once.”
“What do you mean by his last card?” demanded Railroad.
“Why, he's got himself where he ain't safe as long as you and Randy are alive. He's desperate, at the last ditch, and he'll come here with his gang and kill you.”
“How do you know all this?”
Dolly told him what Alec Thomas had said.
“I know Thomas,” said Railroad. “He's a good, square man, and he knows the signs about such outfits as the H Bar. I never thought the Holderness boys would pull a thing like this, though. I knew it was a rough outfit, and I've heard some talk about 'em, but this is too rough.”
“They're not the only rough ones,” snapped Randy. “If they jump us in front, the Tarleton wing of their dirty outfit will stab us in the back.”
“I don't think so,” said Dolly.
Randy shot him a sharp glance, but said nothing.
“We'll keep the men all here at the ranch to-day, anyway,” said Railroad. “I don't think they'll come across the river in the daytime, but our boys will need to be rested whenever they do come.”
“I guess that's right,” said Randy, thoughtfully. “No use in them riding the bend. They'll only get shot from the brush. Come on, Dolly. If they come into Silver Bend, they'll cross at the ford below the narrows. We'll go over there and watch.”
Old Railroad stood watching them as they rode off. There went his last boy, riding into danger. It was the brave and manly thing to do, but he wished he could have gone himself, instead. Never had he seen such a change in any man as there had been in Randy, but he was too bitter, too venturesome. If the H Bar outfit did come that way, they'd get the boy sure.
“No work to-day, boys,” Railroad told them. “Have the boys saddle and have their guns ready and loaded, but don't ride. Dolly says Bell Holderness is apt to come across, and jump us. He's got about forty killers. There's only twenty-two of us, without Dolly and Randy. They've gone to watch the ford. Don't any of the rest of you ride into the bottom. If they're in there, you'll just get shot from the brush, without having a chance. If they jump us here at the ranch, we'll have the advantage. Just get ready for anything that happens, but keep quiet.”
Poor old Railroad. He had thought that battles of this sort were long past for him. He felt that this would be the last one if it came. He hoped it wouldn't come, but gamely oiled and loaded his guns. His old heart would beat rapidly for a moment, skip a beat, then slow down for a minute, keeping up an endless cycle of change in its working.
MEANTIME, Randy and Dolly had ridden on to the river and ensconced themselves in a thicket, where they could watch the ford without being seen. Randy had not spoken since they left the ranch. Now he turned to Dolly and said:
“Where'd you go last night and what for?”
Dolly had been expecting that question, and dreading it. He was going to have to lie, or at least not tell all the truth, and he didn't like that sort of thing. He pulled himself together and plunged into the task.
“Why, I went to Willow Mills, like I told you.”
“I know, but why? You didn't take a chance like that just for fun.”
“No, I took it for you,” and the earnestness of the little puncher's voice rang true. “I talked to that fellow Turk last night, and he told me what Bell would do in a showdown. I knew what we had done to the H Bar. I knew there was nobody but Bell left to ramrod the outfit. I wanted to know if Bell had gone to the H Bar, so I went to the Mills, and found out what I told you.”
“All right. I never have caught you in a lie. I'll be sorry if Bell gets killed. I wanted him to marry Zella first.”
“Randy, you oughtn't to be so bitter.”
“Hell I oughtn't! Didn't she throw me cold? Hasn't Bell been there with her through all this mess? Ain't her brothers hunting me to kill me?”
Dolly wanted to tell him the Tarleton boys were no longer hunting him. He wanted to tell him that Zella was still true to him and suffering intensely for her part in the matter, but he didn't dare. Instead, he said:
“Randy, you're too hard on Miss Zella. I tell you she didn't understand—”
“And I want to tell you that she, or anybody else, will have one hell of a job making me understand that she didn't understand. I'm not a sucker any longer. Thanks to you, I'm a man now. I had to be mighty near killed to make me see sense. I had to lose about everything on earth that I loved, but thank God, the price shan't be paid in vain. I've still got my old daddy and mother, and I still have Silver Bend. It don't make much difference whether I come out of this mess alive or not, but if I do—”
Randy stopped. The thought was too bitter to express. It had to do with what he believed to be the unfaithfulness of Zella, and with his jealousy of Bell Holderness, which he refused to admit. At that moment, he thought there was no feeling in his heart for Zella, except to see her suffer in return for the pain she had given him.
Dolly offered no word. He was thinking again that he had tried to make a man, and made a monster. He had changed Randy from a shrinking boy to a fearless, even a desperate man. A man who could watch the quivering death throes of his enemies without a quiver. A man who could be a terrible enemy, even to a woman.
Looking down the river, as they watched the ford, Dolly was picturing in his mind the great bottle formed by Silver Bend. At the bottom of the bottle, and three miles north of the ranch house, the ground sloped up from the stream to a considerable height and formed a sort of plateau of a hundred yards in extent. There was no timber on it. The soil was loose sand.
In the middle of the plateau was a mound, on which grew an immense mustang grapevine. The vine was old and gnarled, supported by its own twisted stems, and a few stunted trees, it covered as much ground as a large house, and at a distance looked as much like a hay rick as anything else.
Dolly had eaten grapes at that vine many a time, squeezing the pulp from the grape into his mouth, without letting the skin, with its burning acid, touch his lips. He had no thought of any part that grapevine might play in the day's events. It was merely a vagary of his mind that it halted there a moment, in a mental journey from the bottom of the bottle to the ranch house.
The plateau, with its lone grapevine, was the sediment in the bottom of the bottle. To the south of the plateau, the ground sloped down sharply into a strip a quarter of a mile wide, filled with switch-cane and grass, with occasional trees in it. The strip was little higher than the river banks. Railroad Ross called it his winter horse pasture.
There was always green stuff there in the winter. It had not been burned over for several years, and was a mass of dead canes and grass, which protected the greenery under it in the winter. The swale ran across the bend from the river on the west to the river on the east. Beyond that, the ground rose sharply into thick timber that was on high ground and extended on to the prairie valley in which the ranch house stood.
DOLLY was trying to picture in his mind what might happen, and where it would most likely happen. He started when Randy said:
“Dolly, you've done a lot for me, but there's one more favor I want to ask. If the Holderness and Tarleton gang does come into Silver Bend, let me have Bell Holderness.”
“All right,” replied Dolly, absently. “They can come in most anywhere now. I never saw the river any lower. Listen! What's that?”
“Wind,” replied Randy. “It's a spring norther. I noticed when it struck awhile ago.”
They listened and the roaring increased.
“That ain't wind,” said Dolly. “Look at the river!”
A wall of water ten feet high came rolling down the stream and thundered on by them.
“Huh! That closes the gate against the H Bar for awhile anyway,” said Randy. “Most too early for a big head-rise, but that's big enough to stop them from crossing,” and shaking his bridle reins, he led the way back toward the ranch.
They had almost reached the edge of the prairie at the round-up grounds, when Dolly said:
“I smell smoke! Looky how hazy it is,” and then as they came out in the open: “Yonder it is! Somebody's fired the winter horse pasture. It 'll burn the ranch!”
Randy's jaws set with a click, as his spurs went in and he thundered away toward the ranch house, with Dolly at his side. The men were mounting as they rode up.
“Come on, fellows!” shouted Randy. “We've got 'em in the open now. They'll have to fight. They can't get back across the river.”
“Hold the deal!” roared Railroad, who had mounted his horse and had forgotten he had a heart. “They've set a trap for you if you go in there. Plenty of time to fire against that and save the house, if we have to. Wait till they make a move.”
There was no long wait. Bell Holderness had come across with his forty killers. He didn't know yet that his retreat had been cut off by the high water. In his desperation he had but one thought. He was going to get Randy and old Railroad Ross.
When no one came from the ranch to fight the fire, he pushed on at the head of thirty of his men, intent on cleaning up the Railroad and burning the house. All he wanted was the land. The burned house would cover his crime. As they came out on the prairie, Randy whirled his horse and Dolly whirled with him.
“Come on, boys!” called Railroad. “They're ridin' straight into hell!” and dashed for the fray.
The battle was fought in the open this time. The hired killers had to fight or run. The Railroad riders had scores to settle and needed no urging. Four of them went from their saddle at the first crash of battle, but they were being terribly avenged. A dozen riderless horses of the invaders dashed across the prairie.
Bell's forces broke and scattered. He, with French Clauson, had been in the lead. Bullets had fairly rained around them, but they escaped. At last, seeing the battle lost, they turned and started for the bottom of the bottle, with their pursuers almost on them, for Randy and Dolly were riding with bloody spurs to overtake them.
The horse pasture was no longer burning. Instead, Bell and Clauson splashed through water almost to their saddle girths. They knew what had happened, and that retreat was cut off, but they didn't dare try to go back the other way now.
Bell knew some of his gang had gone the other way. He didn't know how many, but he cursed himself for not following them. His only hope was that his pursuers would founder in that quarter-mile morass that he had just passed.
THEY didn't founder, but came doggedly on, though the water all but swam their horses the last few paces, and a strong current was setting across the bend.
“Now,” said Randy, as they gained the plateau and their horses shook the water from their coats, “we'll have it out. Remember, you promised to let me have Bell. Let's go!”
Began then a battle to the death on that narrow plateau, which was now an island and gradually growing smaller.
Old Railroad and half a dozen of his men who had not been hurt in the battle came thundering down to the edge of the water, and stopped. They could see by the trees which they knew that they'd have to swim to reach the island. Across that strip of muddy water they could see the four men on the island. They watched, spellbound, as if they were looking at a play.
They heard the roar of shots, saw the island grow smaller and smaller, as the water rose around. They saw Randy's horse go down. Saw Randy rise on his elbow and fire at Bell, who was charging down on him. Saw Bell's horse fall, and saw him retreat to the other side of the little island, as Randy regained his feet and limped after him. A few yards away Dolly and Clauson met and shot it out. Both horses and both men went down.
Clauson lay still. Dolly struggled up, took a few steps toward Randy, and fell.
The final moment had come. With his back to the swirling water that had entrapped him, Bell made his last stand. He couldn't afford to miss this time. It was his last cartridge. He fired, but fired a second too late. Randy's bullet had found his heart, and Bell Holderness slipped into the swirling flood.
As if enraged at the pollution, the water, with a mighty surge, swept over the island, washing onto Dolly, who lay on the ground. Randy splashed to where the little puncher lay, and caught him up.
“Hit bad, Dolly?” he panted.
“No. Just in the leg, but we're going to get wet. I can't make it, but you got a chance. Swim for the tree.”
“I won't leave you,” declared Randy, splashing waist-deep toward the old grapevine.
Watching from the other side, Railroad and his men saw him gain the vine and push Dolly to safety, then, with the water already at his shoulders, pull himself up, and help Dolly to the highest point.
“Good God! Can't we do anything?” cried Railroad. “It 'll go over *em in a few minutes!”
“These little broncs couldn't swim it,” said old Con, and the others knew it was true.
“I'd give everything I got for one big horse,” declared Railroad, in a frenzy of anxiety.
“There's a chance for a trade,” growled Con, as a powerful yellow horse came storming through the bottom toward them. It was old Judge Tarleton's big claybank saddle horse, and Zella was bestride him. It was a vicious brute of Arabian strain, deep-chested, and powerful of limb.
“Where's Randy?” she cried, as the horse skidded to a stop.
For answer they pointed to the grapevine and the two men clinging to the top of it.
“Let one of the boys have your horse,” pleaded Railroad.
If she heard him, she didn't heed. In went her spurs. Open-mouthed, the great beast reared, lunged, and went out of sight in the water until only Zella's head and shoulders could be seen. He rose and headed out into that swirling sea.
Railroad Ross watched with his heart in his mouth, and choked, as he cried: “What a woman!”
THEY cheered as the great horse drifted against the up river side of the grapevine and stopped, but they couldn't hear what was being said, out there on that hopeless, swaying island, that was likely at any moment to uproot itself and float away.
“Take Dolly to a tree if you can,” said Randy, grimly. “It won't make any difference about me.”
“Oh, Randy!” cried Zella. “Please, please come on. There's a chance yet.”
“No! We can't both go, and I won't leave Dolly.”
“Go on, Randy, you damn fool!” stormed Dolly. “I don't count. Nobody 'll miss me.”
“No! I tell you I won't leave you!”
The big horse could just keep its head out of water and stand on the ground. Soon it would be swimming where it stood.
“Come on then, Dolly!” called the girl. “I'll take you to a tree and come back for Randy. Jump!”
Pushed by Randy, Dolly scrambled behind the saddle. At the same instant, Zella sprang out of it and landed on the grapevine.
“Go on, Dolly,” she cried, “and God help you to win through.”
“Zella!” Randy cried. “Don't make it any harder for me. Get back in that saddle.”
“Not without you!”
“Then go on. I'll try—”
“You first. Catch a stirrup.”
“No. I'll hold to the horse's tail.”
“Go ahead.”
He dropped into the flood, and ran his fingers into the mass of hair that floated on the water, just as Zella dropped to the saddle, and set the horse swimming toward shore. They had won about fifty feet when the watchers on the shore saw the old grapevine loose its moorings and float away.
They saw the logs and trash that swept over the spot, as a boom of drift gave way somewhere above it, but in tense silence, they watched the yellow head of that matchless horse, as he battled on with his double load. They saw the two heads above the water, as the horse submerged, all but his head, from time to time. Randy, they couldn't see, but never in all his life had Randy Ross wanted so much to live.
“God! I can't stand this!” said Sankey, as he threw off his boots, chaps, and hat. “Tie your ropes to me! I'm going in there.”
Half a minute later, old Sankey pushed his mount into the water. No one there knew that it was not to save Zella and Randy that he breasted the flood on a small horse. It was to save that little blue-eyed puncher that he loved like a brother.
The watchers saw him win slowly on into the current, as they paid out the rope. Almost he had reached the trio, when the yellow horse went down. It came up, and went down again, came up, and fought feebly on.
“Don't let 'em tangle in the rope!” roared Railroad.
Sankey quit his spent pony, and with the rope in his teeth, battled for the bobbing yellow-head. He gained it, and both he and the head went under, it seemed like for ages. Then Sankey floated clear and raised a hand. Railroad had hold of the rope, the yellow head was barely above the water. He felt a tug at the rope, as the gallant horse, spent to the last ounce of its strength, floated with the current.
“He made the rope fast to the bridle!” yelled Railroad. “Pull! Oh, damn you, pull!”
“Gimme the end of it,” said old Con, and taking a half hitch on his saddle horn, set his horse to pulling.
A few minutes later, up to their armpits in the red water, Railroad and his men bore the rescued three to dry land. The great yellow horse scrambled out, stood for a moment quivering, and fell in his tracks, just as old Sankey gained the shore a hundred yards below them.
IT was late in the afternoon of the same day. The big yellow horse had revived, and had been taken to the Railroad pens, where he stood, gaunt and drawn, eating a light feed.
“He'll pull through now,” opined Con, whose knowledge of horses was unquestioned.
“I hope he does,” said Railroad. “He's worth about a million.”
On the gallery of the old ranch house, where they had been together since they had reached the house and changed to dry clothing, sat Randy and Zella. Neither of them had spoken for a long time.
“How did you ever happen to be in the bend, and riding that horse?” asked Randy.
“Why, I— Some people don't believe it, but when a woman loves a man as I have loved you, she knows when he is in danger. Lav and Cliff went away this morning, to hunt for Bell, they said. Pompey went off somewhere, and there was no one about the place. I got the feeling that you were in danger. It grew into a fear that Bell would talk Lav and Cliff into coming here to kill you. I decided to come and warn you. When I got to the barn there was no horse except father's big saddle horse, that no one but himself ever tried to handle. I don't know how I managed to put saddle and bridle on it, for it bit at me, and snorted terribly. I fought it, and mounted it, then I came like the wind over the prairie road.
“As I came into the bottom, I met two men who seemed to be flying for their lives. They checked, and one of them called: 'Don't go in there, lady. Hell's raging down there,' and they went storming on. If it was hell, and you were there, it was where I wanted to be, so I came on, and—you know the rest.”
“Yes, I know the rest, Zella, up to now; and I'll do my best to make the rest more happy for you from now on. I'll never give you up again,” and he took her in his arms.
Out at the bunkshack, little Dolly was lying on a bunk, the doctor having dressed his wounds, along with those of several punchers who had been hurt in that first mad charge.
“What became of Turk and Bud?” he asked.
“Old man turned 'em loose,” replied Sankey, who sat beside him. “Said Zella had proved what he wanted to prove by them, and that was that Zella and Randy would marry.”
“Fine! Bully! I told you Randy was a thoroughbred, and all he needed was a little bustin'!”
“Yes,” drawled Sankey, “but it took a woman to bust him. Lay down there and behave yourself. Randy has got him a side-partner now, and I'll need you as soon as you're able to ride.”
“Workin' on the Railroad, workin' life away,
Workin' on the Railroad, for mighty little pay!”
“Shut up, Dolly, you make my head ache, and besides that you'll burst something, and start bleeding again.”
THE END.