Man to Man Read online

  CHAPTER XIII

  AT THE LUMBER CAMP

  They did what they could for Blenham--which was but little--and let himgo when he was ready. Before daylight he had ridden away, dead white,sick-looking, and wordless save for his parting words in a strangelyquiet voice--

  "I'll get all three of you for this, s'elp me!"

  They had bound his head up in a strip torn from an old sheet; the lastthey saw of him in the uncertain light was this bandage, rising andfalling slowly as his horse bore him away.

  Blenham gone, Barbee and Bill Royce went down to the bunk-house again,slipping in quietly. Steve Packard, alone in the ranch-house, satsmoking his pipe for half an hour. Then he went to bed, the bank-notesstill in his shirt, his gun under his pillow.

  Twice last night he had said to Joe Woods, the lumber-camp boss, "I'llsee you in the morning."

  Morning come, Steve breakfasted early, saddled his horse, and turnedout across the fields to meet the rising sun. And it seemed to hisfancies, set a-tingle in the early dawn freshness, that the rising sun,ancient symbol of youth and vigor and hope with triumph's wings, wascoming to meet him.

  At this period of the day, especially when he rides and is alone andthe forests thicken all about him, man is prone to confidence. It hadbeen a simple matter, so he looked upon it now, to have discovered thetruth of the substituted bills last night; as simple a matter had beenhis winning at seven-and-a-half or his whipping big Joe Woods or hisrecovery of the lost legacy.

  Blenham, or rather an agent of Blenham, had killed his horse; whatthen? His destiny had stepped forward; Terry had come; he had whizzedback to the ranch in her car and on time.

  What if the ranch were mortgaged and to the hardest man in sevencounties? What though his grandfather had obviously fallen supinebefore the old man's tempting sin, which is avarice, and was bound tobreak him? Was fate not playing him for her favorite?

  To Steve Packard, riding to meet the sun and to keep his promise to thelumber boss, the world just now was an exceedingly bright and lovelyplace; in this hour of a leaping optimism he could even picture TerryTemple in a companionably laughing mood.

  So early did he take to saddle that the fag end of the dawn was stillsweet in the air when he passed under the great limbs of the stragglersof the forests clothing his eastern hill-slopes. He noted how betweenthe widely separated boles the grass was thick and rich and untrampled;reserved against the time of need. There was no stock here yet.

  He passed on, swung into the little-used trail which brought him firstto the McKittrick cabin where a double-barrelled shot-gun six monthsago had brought Bill Royce his blindness; then to the lumber-camp amile further on. Both were on the bank of Packard's Creek; the flumeconstructed by Joe Woods's men followed the line of the stream.

  The new sun in his eyes, Steve drew his hat low down on his foreheadand looked curiously about him. The timberjacks had come onlyrecently; so much was obvious. They had come to stay; that was asplainly to be seen. Rough slabs of green timber, still drying andtwisting and splitting as it did so, had been knocked together rudelyto make a long, low building where cook and cookstove and a two-planktable indicated both kitchen and dining-room.

  A half-dozen other shacks and lean-tos, seen here and there through thetrees, completed the camp. Great fallen trees--they were taking onlythe full-grown timber--looking helpless and hopeless, lay this way andthat like broken giants, majestically resigned to the conqueror's axe.

  Here in the peace and quiet of the pinking day this inroad ofcommercialism struck Steve suddenly both as slaughter and sacrilege;among the stalwart standing patriarchs and their bowed brethren he sathis horse staring frowningly at the little ugly clutter of buildingshousing the invaders.

  "My beloved old granddad had his nerve with him," he grunted as he rodeon into the tiny settlement. "As usual!"

  The cook, yawning, bleary-eyed, unthinkably tousled, was justbestirring himself. Steve saw his back and a trailing suspender as hewent into the cook-shed carrying some kindling-wood in one hand and abucket of water in the other. It was only when Packard, having riddento his door and looked in, startled the cook into swinging about, thatthe dull-eyed signs of a night of dissipation showed in the other'sface.

  "Up late last night, I'll bet," laughed Steve, easing himself in thesaddle. The cook made a face unmistakably eloquent of a bad taste inhis mouth and went down on his knees before his stove, settling slowlylike a man with stiff, rheumatic joints or else a head which he did notintend to jar.

  "Drunk las' night," he growled, settling back on his haunches as hisfire caught. "A man that'll get drunk is a damn' fool. I'm t'roughwid it."

  "Where's Woods?" asked Steve. "Up yet?"

  "Yes, rot him, he's up. He's always up. He's--holy smoke, I got ahead!"

  "Where is he?" demanded Packard.

  The cook rose gently and for a moment clasped his head with both hands.Then he immersed it gradually in his bucket of icy water. After which,drying himself with a dirty towel and setting the bucket of water onhis stove, he turned red-rimmed eyes upon Steve.

  "You're the guy I fed the other mornin', ain't you?" he asked.

  Steve nodded.

  "More'n which," continued the cook, "you're the guy as licked Woodsylas' night in Red Crick?"

  Again Steve nodded.

  "An' again you're claimin' to run the ranch here? An' to own it? An'to be ol' Hell-Fire's gran'son?"

  "I asked you where Woods was," Packard reminded him sharply. The cookthrew up his hand as though to ward off a blow.

  "Whatcha yellin' in my ear for?" he moaned dismally. "Want to split myhead off? Woodsy's over yonder; talkin' with a man name of Blenham.Ever hear of him?"

  "Over yonder" plainly meant just across the creek where there was alittle flat open space among the trees in which stood one of the largershanties. Steve saw a stove-pipe sticking out crookedly through theshed roof; noted a thin spear of smoke. He spurred across the streamand to the timber boss's quarters.

  Woods heard him and came out into the brightening morning, drawing thedoor closed behind him. His eyes, like the cook's though to a lesserdegree, showed indications of a wild night in town. Steve guessed thathe hadn't undressed all night; that he was not entirely sober just nowthough he carried himself steadily and spoke well enough.

  "I thought you'd show," said Woods quietly, his big hands down in hispockets, his shoulders against the wall.

  "What is Blenham doing here?" Steve asked.

  Woods narrowed his eyes in a speculative frown.

  "He's damn' near dead. He's waitin' for me to get one of the boys tohitch up an' haul him to a doctor. He says you an' two other guysgouged his eye out for him."

  "He's a liar," announced Packard angrily. "The thing was an accident.It was a fair fight between him and Bill Royce. Blenham fell on an oldspur. I promised you I'd be here this morning, Woods."

  "Yes," said Woods. "I expected you."

  "You were square with me last night," went on Packard quietly. "Iappreciate the fact. If ever I can do you a favor, just say so. Somuch for that part of it. Next: Maybe you've heard I'm the owner ofRanch Number Ten? And that I'm running it myself? I've come over totell you this morning that we're knocking off work here. I don't wantany more timber down."

  There came a little twitching at the corner of Woods's broad mouth. Hemade no answer.

  "Hear me?" snapped Steve.

  "Sure I hear you," said Woods insolently. "So does Blenham; he's rightinside where he can hear. I guess it's him you want to talk with. I'mtakin' my orders off'n Blenham an' nobody else."

  "I've talked already with Blenham. I've told him not to set his hoofson my ranch again after to-day. Since he's pretty badly hurt I'll letyou haul him to the doctor but I don't want him hauled back. Further,I want work stopped here right now. The men will be having breakfastin a few minutes. After breakfast you can explain to them and let themgo."

  Woods shrugged.

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p; "My orders, hot out'n Blenham's mouth, is to stick on the job here an'saw wood," he said colorlessly. "I'm takin' my pay off'n him an' I'mdoin' what he says."

  There seemed only a careless indifference in his gesture as he partlyturned his back, staring up-stream; but the slight movement served toshow Packard that Woods carried a gun on his hip, in plain sight.Well, Woods himself had said--"I expected you!"

  Last night and for a definite purpose Steve had armed himself; thismorning, setting out on this errand, he had tossed the revolver into atable drawer at the ranch-house. He had never been a gunman; ifcircumstance dictated that he must go armed, well and good. But hisbrows contracted angrily at the display of Woods's readiness forgun-play.

  "Look here, you Joe Woods!" he cried out. "And listen, too, youBlenham! I'm no trouble-seeker; I know it's a dead easy thing to starta row that will see more than one man dead before it's ended, andwhat's the use? But I mean to have what is mine in spite of you andHell-Fire Packard and the devil! The right of the whole deal is asplain as one and one: This is my outfit, if it is mortgaged; nobodyexcepting me has any business ordering my timber cut. And I say thatit's not going to be cut. If there is any trouble it's up to youfellows."

  From Blenham in the cabin came no sound; Woods, having glanced swiftlyat Packard's angry face, again stared up-stream.

  For a little Steve Packard gnawed at his lip, caught in an eddy ofhelpless rage. Never an answer from Blenham, never an answer fromWoods; angry already, their silences maddened him. Across the creek hesaw the cook standing in his kitchen door, listening and smiling insickly fashion; two or three of the men, coming out for theirbreakfasts, were watching him.

  They were an ugly, red-eyed bunch, he thought as he swept them with hisflashing eyes; they'd fight like dogs for the joy of fighting; soon orlate, if Blenham persisted, he'd have the job on his hands of throwingthem off his land. Of course he could go "higher up"; he could appealto his grandfather.

  He could, but in his present mood he had no intention of doing any suchthing. His grandfather, before now, should have withdrawn these men.

  "Don't ask me to hold my hand!" the old man had shouted at him. "I'mgoin' after you tooth an' big toe-nail!"

  Well, if the old man wanted trouble and range war----

  His blood was rushing swift and hot through his veins; his mind workingfeverishly. One man alone against the crowd of them, he could donothing. But he could ride back to the ranch, gather up a dozen men,put guns into their hands, be back here in the matter of a couple ofhours.

  He saw the timberjacks as one by one they came out into the clearing bythe cook's shack; counted them as they went in. The thought of amorning cup of coffee was attracting them; among the faces turnedbriefly his way he recognized several he had seen last night in the Aceof Diamonds saloon. He saw two of them hitching up the big wagon,evidently the only conveyance in the camp. They were getting ready totake Blenham.

  Suddenly a new light flashed into Steve's eyes; he turned his headabruptly that Joe Woods should not see.

  "How many men have you got here, Woods?" he asked.

  Wondering at the question Woods answered it:

  "Fourteen; startin' a new camp across the ridge."

  Steve had counted nine men go into the cook's shed; with the cook therewere ten; the two with the horses made twelve. There should be twomore. He waited. Meanwhile, secretly so that Woods might not guesswhat he was doing or see the busy hand, he loosened his latigo, seemingmerely to slouch in his saddle; while he made a half-dozen randomremarks which set Woods wondering still further, he got his cinchloose. Another man had gone into the kitchen. Thirteen.

  "Fourteen counting you?" he asked Woods.

  "Yes."

  Then they were all accounted for; two with the horses; eleven in theshed; Joe Woods in front of him.

  "My cinch is loose," said Packard and dismounted, throwing the stirrupup across the saddle out of his way, his fingers going to the latigowhich he had just loosened.

  Woods watched him idly. Then suddenly both men looked toward thekitchen. The door had been slammed shut; there was a fairly hideousracket as of all of the cook's pots and pans falling together; after ita boom of laughter, and finally the cook's voice lifted querulously.Woods grinned. Unruffled by Packard's presence he said casually:

  "Cookie mos' usually has the hell of a head after a night like las'night. The boys knows it an' has a little fun with him!"

  The two men harnessing the horses had evidently guessed as did Woodswhat was happening in the cook's domain; at any rate, they hastily tiedthe horses and hurried to see. Packard, still busied with his latigo,saw them and watched them until the door had shut behind them.

  His horse stood between him and Woods. He tickled the animal in theflank; it spun about, pulling back, plunging, drawing Woods's eyes.And the next thing which Woods clearly understood was that StevePackard was upon him, that one of Packard's hands was at his throat,that the other had gone for the gun on Woods's hip and had gotten it.

  "Back into your shack!" commanded Packard, jabbing the muzzle ofWoods's big automatic hard into Woods's ribs. "Quick!"

  To himself just now Steve had said: "One man against the crowd of them,he could do nothing!" Just exactly what Woods would be thinking; whatBlenham inside would be thinking; just exactly what the rest of the menthought since they turned their backs on him and forgot him in theirsport of badgering the cook.

  What he was doing now was what he would term, did he hear of anotherman attempting it, "A fool thing to do!" And yet he had told himselfmany a time that a man stood a fair chance to get away with theunexpected if he hit quick and hard and kept his wits about him.

  Woods, taken thoroughly aback, allowed himself to be driven again intohis cabin. Packard followed and closed the door. Within was Blenham,lying on Woods's bunk, his head still swathed, a half-empty whiskeybottle on the floor at his side. With one watery eye he looked fromone to the other of the two men bursting in on him.

  "Blenham," cried Packard, standing over him while he was careful not tolose sight of Joe Woods's working face, "I want work stopped here andthis crowd of men off the ranch. You heard what I said outside, didn'tyou?"

  Blenham answered heavily:

  "Woods, don't you pay no attention to what this man says. You keepyour men on the job. An' if you got another drop of whiskey----"

  "The bottle's where you put it," retorted Woods. "Under your pillow."

  Blenham rolled on his side, slipping his hand under his pillow. Allthe time his one red eye shone evilly on Steve, who, his wits abouthim, stepped back into the corner whence he might at the same timewatch Woods and that hand of Blenham's which was making its stupidlittle play of seeking a bottle.

  "Take it out by the neck, Blenham," said Steve sternly. "Take it outby the neck and pass it to me, butt end first! _Sabe_? I'm guessingthe kind of drink you'd like to set up."

  Blenham's one eye and Steve's two clashed; Woods watched interestedly.He even laughed as at last, with an exclamation which was as much agroan as a curse, Blenham jerked out his gun and flung it down on hisquilt. Steve took it up and shoved it into his pocket.

  "There's jus' a han'ful of men over to the cookhouse," said Woodshumorously. "Havin' stuck up me an' Blenham you oughtn't to have notrouble over there!"

  "How many men?" demanded Steve quietly. "Thirteen, if I counted right,eh, Woods? That's no kind of a number to pin your hopes on! And nowlisten; I'll cut it short: If there is any trouble this morning, if anyman gets hurt, remember that this is my land, that you jaspers aretrespassing, that I am simply defending my property. In other words,you're in wrong. You'll be skating on pretty thin ice if you justplead later on that you were obeying orders from Blenham; followBlenham long enough and you'll get to the pen. Now, I'm going outside.You and Blenham stay in here until I call for you. I'll shut the door;you leave it shut. Take time to roll yourself a smoke and think thingsover before you start anything, Joe Woods."


  Then swiftly he whipped open the door, stepped out, and snapped it shutafter him.

  "I'm taking a chance," he muttered, his eyes hard, his jaw set andthrust forward. "A good long chance. But that's the way to play thegame!"

  The door of the cook's shed, facing him from across the creek, wasstill closed. Steve moved a dozen paces down-stream; now he couldcommand Woods's cabin with the tail of his eye, look straight into thekitchen when the door opened, keep an eye upon the one little squarewindow.

  "It's all in the cards," he told himself grimly. "A man can win a jackpot on a pair of deuces, if he plays the game right!"

  At this point Packard's Creek is narrow; the distance between the spotwhere he stood and the door of the cook-shed was not over forty feet.He shifted Woods's gun to his left hand, taking into his rightBlenham's old-style revolver which was more to his fancy. Then, to getmatters under way in as emphatic a manner as he knew how, he sent abullet crashing through the cook's roof.

  The murmur of voices died away suddenly; it was intensely still for amoment; then there was a scrambling, a scraping of heavy boots anddragging benches, and the cook's door snapped back against the outsidewall, the opening filled with hulking forms, as men crowded to see whatwas happening. What they saw was the nose of Blenham's gun in Steve'shand.

  "Back up there," shouted Packard. "Stand still while you listen to me."

  They hesitated, wondering. A man growled something, his voicedeep-throated and truculent. Another man laughed. The forms fillingthe doorway began a slow bulging outward as other forms behind crowdedupon them.

  Within Woods's cabin there was a little noise.

  "You men are leaving to-day," said Steve hastily. "Just as fast as youcan pull your freight. Blenham and Woods are going with you. All toldthere are above a dozen of you and only one of me. But I've gotWoods's gun and Blenham's and I happen to mean business. This is myoutfit; if you fellows start anything and there is trouble, why you'reon the wrong side of the fence. Besides, you're apt to get hurt.Blenham and Woods are quitting cold; so far as I can see you boys wouldbe a pack of fools to make more of a stand than they are doing."

  The man who had laughed and who now thrust his face forward through hiscompanions, grinned widely and announced:

  "We mightn't worry none about where Blenham an' Joe get off. But weain't had our breakfasts yet!"

  "You don't get any breakfast on my land!" said Steve sharply, moreafraid just now of having to do with good nature than with anger.

  For if the dozen men there simply laughed and stepped out anddispersed, his hands would be tied; he couldn't shoot down a lot ofjoking men and he knew it. And they would know it.

  "You're on your way right now! You, there!" This to a big,stoop-shouldered young giant in the fore, blue-eyed, straw-haired,northern-looking. "Step out this way, Sandy! And step lively."

  The northerner shrugged and looked belligerent. Steve moistened hislips.

  "You can't bluff me--" began the northerner.

  And Steve knew that, having gone this far, he could not stop atbluffing. And he knew that he must not seem to hesitate.

  "I can shoot as straight as most men," he said smoothly. "Butsometimes I miss an inch or two at this distance. You men who don'twant to take any unnecessary chances had better give Sandy a littlemore elbow-room!"

  The stoop-shouldered man squared himself a little, jerked up his head,took on a fresh air of defiance. Slowly Steve lifted the muzzle of hisgun--slowly a man drew back from the northerner, a man fell away to theright, a man drew a hasty pace back at the left. He was left standingin the middle of the open doorway. He shifted a little, doubled hisfists at his sides, twisted his head.

  Again a noise from Woods's cabin. Steve saw that the door had quietlyopened six inches. There was a quick movement within; the door wasflung wide open. Woods was standing in the opening, a rifle in hishands, the barrel trained on Steve's chest. Steve saw the look inWoods's eye, whirled and fired first. The rifle bullet cut whistlinghigh through the air; Woods dropped the rifle and reeled and went downunder the impact of a leaden missile from a forty-five calibrerevolver. The rifle lay just outside now.

  The squat young giant with the blue eyes and shock head of hair had notstirred. His mouth was open; his face was stupidly expressionless.

  "Throw up your hands and step outside!" Steve called to him roughly.

  The man started, looked swiftly about him, stepped forward, lifting hisbig hands. They were still clenched but opened slowly and loosely asthey went above his head.

  "Turn your back this way," commanded Steve, feeling his mastery of themoment and knowing that he must drive his advantage swiftly. "Belly tothe wall. That's it. Next!"

  A man, the man who had twice laughed, stepped forward eagerly. Heneeded no invitation to lift his hands, nor yet to go to the other'sside, his face to the wall. His eyes were bulging a little; they werefixed not on Steve Packard but on the body of Joe Woods. The timberboss lay across the threshold, half in, half out, twisting a littlewhere he lay.

  Now, one after another, speaking in low voices or not at all, thetimber crew came out into the stillness of the new day. Steve countedthem as they appeared, always keeping the tail of his eye on Woods'sdoor, always realizing that Blenham was still to be dealt with, alwayswatchful of the small square window in the cook's shed. Once he saw aface there; he called out warningly and the face hastily withdrew.

  At last they were outside, thirteen men with their backs to him, theirhands lifted. Stepping backward Steve went to Woods's cabin.

  "Come out, Blenham," he called curtly.

  Blenham cursed him but came. Stepping over Woods's body he saidthreateningly:

  "Killed him, have you? You'll swing for that."

  "Stand where you are, Blenham." He wondered dully if he had killedWoods. He considered the matter almost impersonally just now; the gamewasn't yet played, cards were out, the mind must be cool, the eyequick. "You two boys on the end come over here and help me with Woods."

  Again Woods's big body twisted; it even turned half over now, and Woodssat up. His hand went to his shoulder; Steve saw the hand go red.Woods's face was white and drawn with pain. His eyes went to the rifleat his feet. Steve stepped forward, took the thing up, tossed it backinto the cabin. Woods swayed, pitched a little forward, caughthimself, steadied himself with a hand on the door-jamb, and shakilydrew himself to his feet. Steve marvelled at him.

  "If you like, Woods," he said quietly, "I'll have you taken over to myplace and will send for a doctor for you."

  "Aw, hell, I ain't hurt bad," said Woods.

  Steve saw how his brows contracted as he spoke. The red hand was laidrather hurriedly on the shoulder of one of the two men whom Steve hadsummoned across the creek.

  Blenham turned away and went down-stream, toward the big wagon. Woodsfollowed, walking slowly and painfully, leaning now and again on hissupport.

  As Steve called to them the men lined up along the wall of the cook'sshed, turned, and, their hands still lifted, went down-stream. Oneafter another they climbed up into the wagon. Two or three laughed;for the most part there were only black faces and growing anger. Manyof them had drunk much and slept little last night; not a man of thembut missed his coffee.

  Packard caught up his horse's reins and swung into the saddle callingout:

  "I don't know anything you're waiting for. Climb into the seat,somebody. Get started. Blenham and Woods both need a doctor. And youneedn't come back for anything you left; I'll have all your junk boxedand hauled into Red Creek this afternoon."

  A man gathered up the four reins and climbed to the high seat. Thebrake was snapped back, the horses danced, set their necks into theircollars, and the wheels turned. Behind them Steve Packard, stillwatchful, rode to escort them to a satisfactory distance beyond theborder of his property.

  Terry Temple out in front of the dilapidated Temple home was amusingherself with a pair of field-glasses. Her
big wolf-hound had justtemporarily laid aside his customary dignity and was chasing a rabbit.Terry had her binoculars focussed on a distant field, curious as to theoutcome.

  Suddenly she lost this interest. Far down the road she glimpsed a bigwagon; it was filled with standing men. She altered her focus.

  "Dad!" she called quickly. "Oh, dad! Come here!"

  Her father came out on the porch.

  "What do you want?" he asked irritably.

  Terry came running to him, flushed with her excitement, and shoved theglasses up to his eyes. Temple dodged, fussed with the focussingapparatus, lowered the glasses, and blinked down the road.

  "It's just a wagon, ain't it?" he demanded. "Looks like----"

  Again she snatched the binoculars.

  "A lot of men are standing up," she announced. "That's the team fromthe Packard logging-camp, There's a man sitting on the front seat withthe driver and he's got a rag around his head. There's some sort of abed made in the bottom of the wagon; a man's lying down. I actuallybelieve, Dad Temple----"

  She broke off in a strange little gasp. Behind the wagon a man rode onhorseback; the sun glinted on a revolver in his hand. They came closer.

  "It's Blenham on the front seat with a bandage around his head!" shecried. "He's hurt! And--dad, that man back there is Steve Packard!And he's driving that crowd off his ranch, as sure as you are JimTemple and I'm Teresa Arriega Temple!"

  Temple started.

  "What's that?" he demanded with a genuine show of interest.

  Together they stared down the road. On came the wagon and the riderbehind it. Slowly the look in Terry's eyes altered. In a moment theywere fairly dancing. And then, causing her father to stare at hercuriously, she broke out into peal after peal of delicious laughter.

  "Steve Packard," she cried out, her exclamation meant for her own earsalone and reaching no further than those of her newly imported Japanesecook who was peering out of his kitchen window just behind her, "Ibelieve you're a white man after all! And a gentleman and a sport!Dad, he's nabbed the whole crowd of them and put them on the run. Byglory, it looks to me like a man has turned up! Maybe he was tellingme the truth last night."

  The wagon came on, drew abreast of the Temple gate, passed by. Templestared in what looked like consternation. Steve, following the wagon,came abreast of the gate, stopped, watched the four horses draw theirfreight around the next bend in the road, accounted his work done, andturned toward the Temples.

  "Good morning," he called cheerily, highly content with life just atthis moment. "Fine day, isn't it?"

  Terry looked at him coolly. Then she turned her back and went into thehouse. Iki, the new cook, looked at her wonderingly.

  "To me it appears most probable certain," said the astute Orientalwithin his soul, "that inhabitants of these wilderness places have muchmadness within their brains."

  Steve swung his horse back into the road and set his face toward hisown ranch.

  "Darn the girl," he muttered.