CHAPTER VII: BLAZE INTERRUPTS A LADY
It was little Jules Mendoza who told Blaze Nolan that Della was back at the War Dance Saloon.
“I ver’ sure,” declared Jules. “She come back. Somebody make her go way, Blaze; it ees cinch. Somebody don’ want her talk at trial, but now she come back.”
“I reckon she got scared, Jules.”
“No! W’y scare? She do nothing. Somebody else scare.”
“Mebby yo’re right, Jules. But it don’t matter.”
“Mm-m-m,” grunted Jules. He had his own ideas on the matter.
Blaze trusted the little half-breed Mexican and Apache more than he trusted any other man. Jules had a queer sense of right and wrong, but it worked about the same as any other. They were seated in the shade of Mendoza’s adobe ranch-house when Blaze told him how he got out of the penitentiary and the reasons for Kendall Marsh securing his release. He did not mention the shooting in any way.
“He get you loose to help him, eh?” grunted Mendoza. “Bueno esta. Now you owe him mucho. Too damn bad, Blaze.”
“Do you think I ought to go ahead and do the job, Jules?”
“He get you loose.”
“But these were my people, Jules. Should I help to break ’em?”
“W’at you mean by mortgage, Blaze?”
Blaze explained it in detail, and Jules grasped it at once.
“Theese bank keep paper, eh? Borrow money on ranch and have to pay so much money every year. That is right. You say theese paper is also wrote on book in courthouse at Broad Arrow?”
“That’s the record of it, Jules.”
“And w’en man can’t pay no more, the bank take ranch, eh? By God, I’m like to own bank! Kendall Marsh he soon own many ranch. Mucho malo. Breeng sheeps, eh? Damn sheeps! Bimeby grass all gone. Jules lose hees rancheria too. Well, I’m sorry for you, Blaze. You make damn bad deal, I’m t’ink.”
“If I carry out my end of it, Jules.”
“Well, w’at the hell can you do?”
“I didn’t ask him to get me out, Jules.”
“You are not glad for get out?”
“Quien Sabe? Anyway, I didn’t promise him, Jules.”
“Mm-m-m-m. He own bank. Bimeby he say no more money. Nobody can pay. Dios, he take much! Well? Blaze, I hear funny t’ing in town. Strange cowboy come yesterday. He’s have tro’ble with Van Deen and yo’ng Marsh. He’s knock hell out from Van Deen and he’s keek Marsh from de saloon. Madre de Dios, I’m soree to miss it!”
“That sounds interestin’,” grinned Blaze. “Know who he is, Jules?”
“No. But I’m hear one more t’ing. Two cowboy talk and one says ‘I see you at meeting to-night at JK ranch.’”
“A meetin’ at the JK, eh? I wonder what for, Jules.”
“I’m hear no more. Maybe jus’ party; maybe cowman go talk. I’m not invite. Damn Injun no good for talk, anyway.”
“Talk ain’t everythin’, Jules. If the whole bunch was as square as you are—”
“I’m not civilise, Blaze; jus’ damn Injun. Well, I’m go doctor seek horse now.”
Blaze rode to Medicine Tree that night after supper. Jules had aroused his curiosity in speaking about a meeting, and Blaze wanted to see what he could find out about it. He dismounted at a hitchrack across the street from the livery stable, and was about to walk away from his horse when he heard some one ride from the stable. He stopped short, as the horse and rider came out in the street, and as they passed the lighted window across from him, he saw that the rider was a woman.
She swung to the left on a short side street, and he knew that she must be heading toward the Kelton ranch. Was it Jane Kelton, he wondered? Something seemed to tell him that it wasn’t Jane; that she wouldn’t be taking that ride home in the dark alone.
He stepped back, untied his horse and swung into the saddle. The moon was just coming up, silvering the tops of the hills, as he swung out on the JK road. He rode at a stiff gallop until he caught sight of the rider ahead, and then slowed down. It was a little over two miles from town to the JK.
He saw the rider swing wide of the ranch-house and dismount behind a mesquite thicket. The windows of the ranch-house were lighted, and Blaze thought he could see the dark bulk of horses tied to the long railing at the front of the house.
He dismounted and dropped his reins, when he saw the rider going toward the house. She disappeared in the shadow and Blaze went swiftly in pursuit. There were a number of horses tied in the patio when Blaze stopped just inside the arched entrance. The moon threw deep shadows across the patio from the high walls, picking out a high-light here and there, but throwing the rear of the ranch-house in high relief.
For several moments Blaze halted against the inside of the patio, wondering who the woman might be and why she had left her horse concealed away from the house. Suddenly he heard the approach of more horses, and he sidled along the wall to the angle of the house, where he could stand in the deep shadow.
The two horsemen rode in and dismounted. Blaze recognised them as Tod Myers, of the Bar Anchor, and Tommy Simpson, of the O Bar B. They knocked at the door and some one let them in. Blaze could hear the murmur of voices in the house, as the two men were made welcome. He moved over closer to the doorway. Above him was the rear balcony, half-covered with vines, which hung down over the lower porch.
A few feet away from him was an old ladder, leaning against the upper balcony, and suddenly he saw the woman step out of the shadow and reach this ladder. She seemed to hesitate for a few moments, looking up at the balcony, and then tested the ladder cautiously. Her face was in the shadow, and as she started to climb the ladder, Blaze sprang forward, threw his left around her and blocked her progress.
She gave a low cry of alarm and tried to struggle free, but he tore her grip from the ladder, and they staggered together against the porch steps. She struck several times at his face, half-blinding him, but he managed to block her arms and swung her around, facing the moon, just as the door was flung open and Jane stepped out on the porch, the bright lamplight illuminating the scene.
The woman—it was the dance-hall girl, Della, of the War Dance Saloon—jerked her head around quickly and stared at Jane, who had stopped short just outside the doorway. She had no knowledge of what had happened previous to this tableau, and all she saw was Blaze Nolan with this woman held tightly in his arms and the woman smiled at Jane.
Not a word was spoken. Jane stepped back and softly closed the door. Blaze released the woman, except for a grip on her right arm.
“We’ll be goin’ now,” he said softly.
The woman laughed throatily and went along with him. They halted at her horse, which Blaze untied and handed her the reins.
“Mendoza said yuh was back,” he told her. “I don’t know what you intended to do out here to-night.”
“That’s none of your business,” she said.
“No, I don’t reckon it is,” wearily, “but you wasn’t out here for no good.”
“How did you happen to be here, Nolan?”
“I followed you.”
“Oh, you did?” She laughed heartily. “Well, it didn’t help you much, I guess. Rather a surprise for the young lady to find you hugging me on that porch. But then your goose was cooked with her a long time ago, Nolan; so it don’t matter. Now, if you don’t mind, I’ll ride back to Medicine Tree. Or would you like to ride back with me?”
“No, I don’t think I’ll ride with yuh.”
“Oh, it suits me just as well.”
She mounted and turned her horse away from the mesquite.
“She’s quite pretty, Nolan. That was the first time I ever got a good look at her. And if I’m not mistaken, after that meeting is over, Painted Valley will be unhealthy for you.”
“Was that why you tried to spy on them?” he asked.
“You fought and killed a man over me, didn’t you, Nolan? At least, I might show my appreciation in some way.”
Her mocking laughter came back to him, as she galloped her horse back to the main road. Blaze strode back to his horse and swung into the saddle.
Up to the time when Blaze thus parted from Della of the War Dance Saloon, the meeting inside the JK ranch-house had consisted mostly of general conversation. An even dozen men were gathered in the living-room of the JK, representing all the ranches in that end of the valley, except the Triangle X and the Circle M. The Triangle X was owned by Kendall Marsh, which, of course, was barred from the meeting; and the Circle M, owned by Jules Mendoza, who didn’t figure in the scheme of things; because of his friendship for Blaze Nolan.
Uncle Jimmy Kelton called the meeting to order, and told them of the evidence against Kendall Marsh and Blaze Nolan. This was the first real evidence they had ever had that Marsh really intended sheeping out Painted Valley. They had all suspected his motives in establishing a crew of gunmen at the Triangle X, and buying out the bank in order to control the mortgages, but their evidence had all been circumstantial.
Uncle Jimmy told them of the conversation between Marsh and Blaze Nolan regarding the Lost Trail, explaining why Marsh had secured Nolan’s release from the penitentiary and just what part Nolan was to play in Marsh’s schemes.
“And did Blaze Nolan agree to do this?” asked Sam Hawker, owner of the O Bar B ranch.
“He’s here in the Valley,” replied Uncle Jimmy. “What else would he come here for?”
“I knowed Blaze Nolan a long time,” said Joe Brown, the grizzled little old man, who owned the Bar Anchor, “and it don’t seem that Blaze would do a thing like that. Yuh never can tell about folks, I suppose.”
“He’s pretty cold-blooded,” said Tod Myers. “After the things he’s done—and he probably ain’t got no love for any of us.”
“Well, what’s to be done?” demanded Hawker. “We can shore make this valley too hot for Blaze Nolan, if yuh all say the word.”
“Let’s clean out the Triangle X,” suggested Archie Lee.
“Easier said than done,” grunted Sig Heffner, of the Bar Anchor. “That’s a tough layout, Archie.”
“And they haven’t done anythin’ wrong—yet,” added Joe Brown.
“Neither has Blaze Nolan,” said Hawker. “I think we better wait until somethin’ breaks. We’ve been warned, and it’s up to us to keep an eye peeled. I wouldn’t say a word to Blaze. Damn it, boys, we can’t afford to drive him out of here. We can watch him here, but if he was over around Marshville we don’t know what he’s doin’. And if he knows where the Lost Trail is—he ain’t dumb, is he? He can tell where it is. I’d vote to let him go ahead—over here where we can sort of watch him.”
“That’s horse-sense,” said Joe Brown. “I don’t believe there ever was a Lost Trail. I think it’s all talk. Stands to reason that some of the boys would have found it long ago, if it existed.”
“Blaze Nolan found it,” said Harry Kelton.
“Did he admit it to Marsh?”
“Well, he didn’t deny it.”
They argued the case from every angle before the meeting broke up, but they finally decided to take Hawker’s advice in the matter. It seemed the sensible thing to do. The men rode away in the moonlight, and Uncle Jimmy went painfully up the stairs. He wanted to sit in his easy chair under the stars and have a good-night smoke.
He found Jane on the veranda, leaning against an arch, looking off across the moonlit valley.
“Huh!” he grunted, sinking down in his chair. “I didn’t expect you to be out here, Jane.”
He hammered the bowl of his pipe against the arm of his chair.
“The meetin’ is over,” he said. “I reckon we’ll wait and let Blaze Nolan make his first move, the boys will watch him. He’ll find that Painted Valley don’t trust him no more than they would a lobo wolf.”
“I wonder if he knows there was a meeting?” she said softly.
“I doubt it.”
A period of silence, while he lighted his pipe. Then, “Dad, did you ever see that girl—that dance-hall girl—the one they called Della?”
“I dunno, Jane. She disappeared ahead of the trial, yuh know.”
“Do you know what she looked like, dad?”
“Kinda Spanish, they said. Tall girl, dark skinned and black hair. What do yuh want to know for?”
“Nothing; I was just wondering,” and she walked back to the stairway. The old man puffed for several moments, sighed deeply and shook his head.
“Women are queer critters,” he said. “Awful queer.”