The Short Cut Read online

  CHAPTER XV

  WILLIE DART PICKS A LOCK

  The summer sped by like one long golden day under its rare blue sky;yet always upon the horizon was that single black cloud. Not untilsummer had gone its bright way and winter had come, locked the mountainpasses and departed again, was the way to be made clear.

  If Wayne Shandon could have had the opportunity to act at once whenWanda told him the reason of her father's open enmity he would havegone immediately in his headlong way to MacKelvey. He would have toldthe sheriff his own version of the tragedy; he would have recounted thefinding of the revolver by Wanda, her giving it to him, his certaintythat Arthur had taken his own life. But having promised Wanda to donothing rashly, without again talking with her, having pondered deeplyas he rode back to the Bar L-M and during the days which followed, hecame to see sanely that for his own sake and for the sake of the girlhe loved it would be better if he held his peace until time and thoughtbrought clear vision.

  He was already suspected by Martin Leland, perhaps by MacKelveyhimself, perhaps by many men among whom he came and went. Would thestory he had to tell lessen suspicion in any single breast? Would itnot rather give the sheriff just such a bit of evidence as he had longbeen seeking?

  Much alike in one great essential Wayne Shandon and Wanda Leland hadhearts that were tuned to happiness. To such people it is easier to begay than sad; the trouble, stern as it was, that had entered theirlives so early was less than the brightness which dissipated all othertroubles but that one. Good fortune had disclosed to them a meetingplace as high as the waving treetops where no one's curious eye wouldpenetrate; they could converse across the miles almost as people maycall across a street; they could be together two or three times a weekwithout their world knowing. These things gave wings to the summer.

  They were busy days, clad in action, crowned with dreamings. Wanda'scave became a dainty bower for a fair lady. Across the cliffs, bytortuous trail, it was a scant five miles to the little mountain townof White Rock. Many a dim morning before the shadows lifted to therising sun the trail had echoed to the clanging hoofs of Shandon'shorse as he rode down and back, bringing a surprise for Wanda. Apackhorse had brought in supplies, bought in Shandon's own recklessway, which when piled high against the rock walls made Wanda gasp andask him if he thought that she was going to take in boarders. Therewere camp stools, there were rugs. A tiny sheetiron camp stove cameone day, and when Wanda put her rosy face through the screen that Waynehad substituted for her old one, her nostrils were assailed by theodours of boiling coffee, frying bacon, sizzling apples and burningbread.

  There were strings of onions, and potatoes popping out of their bagbefore the summer died; a side of bacon swung against a ham where Waynehad driven a dead branch into a crevice in the rocks; there was a tablehe had constructed rudely but securely; there were books on it; therewere candles burning everywhere.

  "Because," he had laughed at her surprise, "winter will come one ofthese days, and do you think that I'm not going to see you until it'sgone again? Oh, I suppose I'll have to be down at the lower pastureswith the stock, but I'll get up here now and again. Then when a fineday comes and you want a long ski ride, you'll know where to come,won't you, Wanda? Where a hot luncheon will be waiting for you? And,who knows," he whispered, "maybe we'll spend our honeymoon heresometime!"

  Shandon at first had thought of going to Garth Conway, of asking himfrankly what the deal was in which he and Sledge Hume and Mr. Lelandwere interested, and if they were counting upon needing the Bar L-Mwater as Ruf Ettinger had told him they were. But in this matter alsohad he altered his first quick decision. He had always liked Conway,at least, without thinking a great deal about it he supposed he had,for the very simple reason that they were cousins and had, in a way,grown up together. But on the other hand they were men essentiallyunlike, in no respect congenial. They had never been confidential;were they the only two men in the world it is doubtful if one wouldhave carried his personal thoughts and emotions to the other. Thatlittle reserve which had always existed, scarcely noted by WayneShandon, was suddenly a wall between them. This was Conway's business;if he chose to keep it his secret from his cousin, Wayne Shandon wasnot the man to ask him to talk about it.

  Moreover, perhaps even more important now than that consideration,there was another. Leland and Hume had at least been upon the point ofgoing into this matter just before Arthur's death, and they had takenArthur into their confidence. Perhaps he was to have been one of theircorporation when one was formed. Now that Wayne owned the Bar L-M andthe water, the logical thing for them to do was to come to him. Theyhad brought Garth into the circle of their endeavour; they had ignoredShandon. A little hurt at the obvious significance of this Shandonshrugged his shoulders and resolved that when the first word was spokenit would not be by himself.

  And soon he came close to forgetting it. The incentive to bestirhimself had at last come into his life and he was not loitering.Little by little, through long talks with Garth, with Big Bill andother men of his outfit, he came to have a grasp upon the work whichshould have been his a year before, and an interest in it. Only nowfor the first time did he take the trouble to learn the real meaning ofresources and liabilities; to estimate profit and loss; to speculateupon success in the business which he found rather larger than he hadsuspected. He called a round-up to learn to the head how many steersand cows and calves carried the Bar L-M brand. He brought a quick lookof surprise that was close to suspicion into Garth's eyes by askingcasually just what sums had been taken in during the last year by salesof beef, how the money had been reinvested, if there was a surplus inthe bank. He went into the matter of the wages of all of the men, andlearned that Garth himself was drawing the same salary he had drawnunder Arthur.

  "Oh, I'm not thinking that you're holding out on me," he laughed atGarth's expression. "I've just begun thinking that it's about time I'mdoing part of my own work. So everything you got out of the sales lastyear you slapped back into the business, buying more cattle?"

  "I sent you four thousand, you remember," Garth reminded him.

  "You don't quite get me, Garth. What's left of that four thousandwouldn't buy a sack of tobacco. We haven't banked any cash, have we?"

  Even now Garth hesitated, Garth's way. Then he answered.

  "Arthur left fifteen hundred in the bank. I haven't touched that, ofcourse. If you haven't--"

  "I didn't know it was there," laughed Wayne. "When I pulled out andgave you my power of attorney I let everything slide off my shoulderson to yours. Is that all?"

  "I banked pretty heavily from sales," Garth went on. "Under my ownname, as it saved trouble and I didn't know when you'd show up. I drewout again, for the men's wages, for a few improvements and runningexpenses, for the other cattle I bought. I've got the vouchers, if youwant to see them."

  "I don't want to see them."

  "There is still something left," Garth said, his voice careless, hiseyes glancing up at Shandon and down again. "It's still in my name.About four thousand."

  "Good boy," cried Wayne. "That's going to save me some trouble. Willyou give me a check for it, Garth?"

  "It's yours," Garth replied, going to look for pass book and checkbook. But when he returned he could not refrain from asking, "What areyou going to do with it, Wayne?"

  "Double it!" laughed Shandon. "Bet it on a horse race, my boy! Butlook here," seriously. "I want only five thousand. Counting the otherfifteen hundred there's something over that. You've been working likea dog for a year, drawing just foreman's wages while you've been takingthe owner's responsibilities. I'm going to shove the other fivehundred down your throat as the rest of the unpaid wages due you, or abonus or whatever you like to call it."

  And as Garth's momentary stupefaction was followed by what threatenedto be very profuse thanks, Shandon fled to the stable and Little Saxon.

  Already word of the race to be run in the springtime, in June when thesnows would be gone,
had travelled up and down the country. SledgeHume's money was in the hands of Charlie Granger at El Toyon, and theorder signed by him to turn over the five thousand dollars to the manwho came in first, himself or Wayne Shandon, containing the clausewhich he had insisted upon, making it clear that if only one manentered the race he was to take the money.

  Five thousand dollars wagered on a single race; Red Reckless and SledgeHume riding; Endymion, who had already shown those who knew him thatfor beauty and speed and endurance he was the peer of his aristocratic,thoroughbred sire and dam; Little Saxon, whom men knew yet only as awild hearted colt being tamed by a man who knew horses and who waswilling to lay five thousand on him against his brother; the course aten mile sweep of mountain and valley, of broken trail and grassymeadow, leading from the high lands to the east of Bar L-M and EchoCreek, ending at the Bar L-M corrals; this one event was enough to drawthe attention of men up and down the cattle country, in the miningtowns and lumber camps. Word of it went everywhere; letters came toWayne Shandon from other men who had horses, who suggested this, thatand the other race, who sought to find men to cover their bets.

  It would be an all day meet; the Bar L-M outfit would entertaingenerously; there would be barbecued beef; every one was welcome; bigwagons would be busy a week beforehand bringing in enough food for asmall army. Any man had the opportunity of entering his own horse withthese provisos: this was to be a Western race in all essentials; thehorse must be Western, born and bred, the man who owned it must ridehis own horse. There would be no professional jockeys; there would beno bookmakers.

  News of the race, before the winter had come, more than six monthsbefore the day set in June, had gone over the crest of the Sierra andappeared in the papers at Reno. It had flashed across telegraph wiresto Sacramento; had been talk for a day in many a place where sportingmen foregather in San Francisco. Men who had never heard of thembefore came to know of Sledge Hume and Wayne Shandon, of Endymion andLittle Saxon. And still Little Saxon was but a half broken colt.

  "It's all right," grunted Willie Dart to himself, kicking his heelsfrom the top of the corral and watching his Noble Benefactor riskinghis life in the company of a great, belligerent red-bay horse. "It'sall right, seeing I'm here. Suppose I wasn't, suppose I was stilldodging cops on Broadway, then what? Then Sledgehammer Hume would putsome death-on-rats in Hell Fire's hay, or pick Red off with a shot gun,and who cops onto the five thou? A man don't have to have a fortuneteller for a mother to get wised up to that."

  Little by little the proud spirited horse learned his lesson. He cameto see that his destiny lay in the hands of the man who came out to himdaily. He gave over trying to beat the man to death with his flyingheels; he no longer sought to tear at him with bared teeth; herecognised that it was as futile to seek to hurl the man from his backas to break the strong cinch which held the saddle; that he might rununtil he killed himself, but that he could not run away from the manwho rode him and laughed. He learned that in this world that had beenso utterly free for him there was one single being who was his masterin all things, whom he must obey. And, when obedience came, pleasurein that obedience followed, and trust and faith and love.

  That year winter came in as it had not come to these mountains fortwenty-seven years, early, unheralded and hard. The cattle and horseshad not yet been moved down to the lower ranges when one day, inmid-afternoon, the air thickened, bursting black clouds drove up fromthe southwest, the forests rocked moaning and shuddering under thesmashing impact of the sudden storm, the sun was lost in a darknessthat grew impenetrable toward the time of dusk, and the skies opened toa downpour of rain. For upwards of an hour the great drops droveunceasingly into the dry ground while giant daggers of lightningstabbed at the earth that seemed to bellow its torment in reverberatingroars. Then the slanting rain stopped as suddenly as it had begun, thewind went howling through the forests and was gone, and in thestillness which ushered in the true night the snow began.

  All night it snowed, steadily, without cease. The morning dawned wanlyon a white world; distant peaks and ridges were blotted out in thegrey, snow filled air. Men who were careless yesterday became to-dayfilled with an activity which was swift and tireless. In candlelightand lamplight they dressed hurriedly and made speedy breakfasts. Thisstorm might be nothing but a warning of winter; it might be the firstday of a snowfall that would continue for two weeks. In any event itwas high time to have the cattle on the run to the lower valleys.

  "Two days of this," grunted Big Bill as he kicked his way viciouslythrough the snow already over ankle deep on the way to the stable, "an'the passes'll be so choked up we can't whoop the cow brutes through'em. An' me, I ain't hankerin' after totin' a bawlin' calf under eacharm, nuther."

  All day long, upon the Bar L-M and the Echo Creek, men were riding deepinto the sheltered ravines, bringing out the stock, heading thestragglers westward down the valleys, gathering the different herdsinto one on each ranch to crowd them out of the belt of hard winter.Many men rode many miles that day, changing their horses at noon,making a hasty meal when they could, riding again.

  Always before this year the herds of the Bar L-M had been pushed acrossthe bridge or made to swim the river where it was wide and shallow, anddriven across a corner of the Echo Creek ranch by the most direct routeout. But this year Wayne Shandon briefly gave new orders, telling hismen to keep on the Bar L-M property as long as they could, then tothrow the herds across the ridge to the south and along a harder,longer trail to the county road ten miles further west. He offered noexplanation, his men asked none. It was but another indication to themof the thing which was already no secret, that there was some sort ofserious trouble between Wayne Shandon and Martin Leland.

  Wayne and Garth intended to stay that night at the range house, beingthe last two men to leave, after attending to the countless littlethings which must be done about a ranch before it is abandoned to thewinter and solitude. They planned to follow the rest of the Bar L-Moutfit in the morning.

  Even Martin Leland who usually moved his stock early had been caughtunprepared. The fine weather preceding the storm had tricked him; hehad not planned the drive until two weeks yet. He, too, having workedwith his men all day, having ridden the first half dozen miles withthem, came back to spend the night at his home.

  That afternoon, while the men of both ranges were doing two days' workin one, Willie Dart called upon Wanda. Mr. Dart made it a part of hisbusiness in life to be on good terms with every one. He ignored thecontemptuous grunts of Wanda's father, and in speaking of him referredto him as, "My old pal, Mart." Martin tolerated him, Mrs. Leland wasamused by him, Wanda welcomed him as coming from Wayne's home, asalways a possible bearer of tidings from Wayne himself. And such hewas to-day.

  For there had been no time for signalling, the snow had veiled thecliffs across the miles, and Wayne must send word of his suddennecessary change of plans. So he entrusted a note to Mr. Dart, havingfirst sealed it in its envelope and informed the carrier that if hepried into it the police in New York would learn by telegraph of thepresent whereabouts of Mr. Dart.

  Wanda and Dart were alone in the big living room while Mrs. Leland wasbusied with Julia in making preparations within the house for the siegeof winter. As she left the room Mr. Dart winked slyly at Wanda, tappedhis breast pocket, winked the other eye and assumed the air of a manbearing secret and very mysterious messages. In due time he broughtout the letter, the flap of the envelope showing so little sign ofhaving been tampered with that it was not to be expected that the eagergirl would note it. Mr. Dart afterwards admitted that he pridedhimself upon the appearance of that envelope, all things, includinginclement weather, considered--and presented it with a whispered,

  "Red wouldn't trust anybody with it but me. Say, he's some kid, ain'the, Wanda?"

  Beaming on her like a cherub in checked suit and brilliant necktie, heapproached a little nearer and whispered again,

  "Me, I'll just mosey out on the porch while you flash you
r eyes overRed's handwrite. Delicacy's my other name, times like this."

  Still beaming he winked again, still winking let himself silently outof the front door.

  Considering that all Wayne Shandon had to write a letter about was totell Wanda that he was hurrying out with the herds to-morrow, that whenduring the next few weeks he could get back he would signal with smokefrom the cliffs above her cave, it must have taken him a long time tosay it. Considering how little she had to read Wanda must have beenvery deliberate in reading Wayne's scrawl. At any rate, long beforeshe had finished, Mr. Willie Dart had gone silently down the porch,peered in the kitchen window at Mrs. Leland and Julia, continued on tothe door of Martin's study and let himself in. The door had beenlocked, at that, when Dart's beautiful fingers first touched it, andthey had done what Mr. Dart himself termed "plying his profession."

  "I ain't had a chance like this since I was three," Mr. Dart toldhimself contentedly. "Honest, I ain't. Now, if these nice old countrygents think they can put over something with my old pal Red, and me notknow just how they're figuring on the skinning party, they better wiseup."

  He closed the door silently, and any sound he made might have been thatof a pin dropped on a thick carpet. He surveyed the room with eyesthat missed nothing.

  "I knew it," he smiled, as though at the sight of an old friend as hefound the safe in the far corner of the room. "I heard your door shutthe other day, old party, when I was chumming with Wanda and you andthe rest of the combination was talking war talk. Not to waste timewe'll begin with you."

  It was an old safe, an old, old make and style, and Mr. Dart sighed andshook his head a little disappointedly as he knelt, brought out of hispockets a set of bright, new tools and set to work.

  "Any time," he mused when the door swung open, "that they put a pal ofmine out of the running they better get up-to-date."