High-Grade

Front matter

Chapters: II — III — IV — V — VI

HIGH-GRADE

By J. ALLAN DUNN

II II

THE morning wore on slowly. Steele occasionally shifted gently in his chair, more freely as the attention of his guards wavered, though they kept their weapons ready and were alert enough. His own Colts had been kept by the sheriff. Jim smoked, and Steele, after a marked request as to whether it inconvenienced the girl, rolled an occasional cigarette, with the permission of the two deputies. They evidently sized him up as a dangerous customer.

Noon came and passed without sign of Hines. A clock in the kitchen struck one—then two. The girl read on, though Steele was fairly certain that she could not have told the plot of the story she was perusing. Once or twice he caught her looking at him doubtfully, shifting her glance immediately she thought he noticed it. She seemed, he fancied, to be appraising him.

“I wouldn’t wonder,” he told himself, “whether she don’t think I am a pal of the man who owns that pipe. If so, I’m in wrong.”

“Jim,” he said, at last. “No sense in goin’ hungry, is they, with a house full of grub? I reckon there’s more ham and eggs an’ coffee, anyway.”

“By gun!” said Pete, hitherto so silent as to suggest he might be a mute, “he’s right. I cu’d eat the hind laig of’n a mule.”

Jim looked dubious, but he also looked hungry. He licked his lips.

“I kin cook,” said Pete.

“I’ll get a meal for you,” said the girl. Steele looked up with surprise at the offer. He read the answer in the look in her eyes. She was snatching desperately at a chance to get away. But her voice had been a little too eager.

“Not you,” growled Jim. “There’s knives in that kitchen, I reckon. An’ a back door.”

“Then, I can clear the table off in here. I’m hungry, too.”

Grit, clean through, Steele told himself.

“Don’t suppose I’ll even be ’lowed to wash the dishes,” he said.

“You set still,” said Jim. “If we give you enny grub it’ll be a sandwich. An’ it’ll be brung to you. Go out an’ prospect around, Pete. I’ll keep my eyes on ’em.”

He sat with his attention divided between the girl and Steele. As she moved round the table after removing the used plates, waiting for Pete to give her a fresh supply, she straightened out the cutlery. She came round one corner with her back to Jim. Steele had been waiting for her to get in line. His lips moved, forming distinct syllables:

“Give me the pepper.”

Her eyes stared into his. He did not doubt their comprehension. He had already measured her and now he saw she was once more measuring him, looking deep into his gray eyes, searching for truth, wondering whether she could trust him. She barely slowed up, moving on, touching a napkin here, a knife there. Steele made no attempt to follow her movements. If she was going to ally herself with him he knew he could trust her wits. Pete came out of the kitchen with an armful of plates, one hand bristling with knives and forks. The smell of ham and eggs preceded him.

“Ready in a jiffy,” he said. “How d’ye like your aigs, Miss? Straight up?”

“I think so. How about your’s, Mr.—”

“Steele,” Jud answered. She had one hand clenched, he noticed, and she gave him a meaning glance. He let his own hand slip leisurely over the arm of the Morris chair.

“His’ll be a ham-and sandwich,” said Pete. “The plates is warm, Miss. I’ll put the chuck on a big dish.” He set down his burden and went out. The girl laid three plates and walked around the table, arranging the fresh knives and forks. None of those originally laid had been used, but she made no comment. Passing Steele, she dropped a fork. Jim looked up sharply for a moment. She stooped to retrieve the fork and, as she straightened, her hand touched Steele’s and he palmed the glass pepper castor.

Slowly, though he knew the moments were precious, he folded his hands in his lap and unscrewed the top, letting the contents fall into his left palm. Now the issue was in the laps of the gods. If Pete came in before he could carry out his plan it would be half defeated, if not useless. The girl came to his rescue.

“Will you sit here, Mr. Jim,” she said, “opposite me?” She smiled at the deputy and he smirked back.

“Ruther not have my back to Steele,” he said. “Better you take this chair.” He laid his left hand on the back of it, the gun in his right, next to Steele. Steele rose from his lounging position, effortless, swift as uncoiled springs. He dashed the pepper full in the face of the luckless Jim, dropping his left hand to the deputy’s right wrist while his own right fist crashed against the angle of Jim’s jaw. Jim’s knees gave way; his nerves and muscles failed to coordinate, the connection short-circuited by the short-armed jolt; and Steele caught his body and swung it into the chair he had vacated. With the deputy’s gun in his hand he leaped towards the kitchen door and stood to one side of it. He was just in time. Pete came in, with a kick of his foot to the half-latched door, a platter of seaming food in his hands. The look on his face was ludicrous as he faced the barrel of the pistol.

“If you drop it,” said Steele, “I’ll kill you. Take it from him, Miss Deming, and Pete, you elevate.”

He took away the second gun and backed the still astounded Pete into the high fireplace where he was forced to crouch in the opening while Steele gave brief attention to the unconscious figure of Jim, sprawled in the chair.

“Miss Deming, there’s a barn out back. Will you slip out there and see if you can find a rope or two for our friends here. If you run across some baling wire—know what that is?—that’ll be better. Take a look to see if Hines is in sight. If not, we’ll have our meal before we light out.” She left, with a backward glance in which he read amusement, admiration, but not a bit of nervousness. Pete squatted amid the ashes like a giant toad, his eyes rolling fearfully. Steele smiled at him and took the ham and egg sandwich from the platter.

“Chew on this,” he said. “It’ll keep you from worryin’.”

Jim groaned and showed signs of coming to life. Steele faced the pair of them, a gun in each hand. When Jim’s eyes lost their gaze and began to glare, Steele talked to him.

He had achieved a few surly answers when the girl came running in, and there was a grim smile of satisfaction on his face.

“You’d make a bum witness,” he said to John. “You don’t git your facts assembled. You talk like a bobtail flush.”

She had brought a bale of soft wire and displayed a pair of pliers.

“There’s no one in sight,” she said.

“Good. Can you handle a gun, Miss Deming?”

“Yes.”

“Not afraid to shoot it?”

“Not if it’s necessary.”

“It is. Plug Pete there if he tries to hop while I attend to Jim.”

She took the revolver and balanced it in a way that showed she had held and fired a pistol. Her mouth and chin were very determined and the look she settled upon the cramping Pete was in accord. There was small doubt but that she would pull the trigger, around which she crooked one slender finger.

“That’s my gun,” said Pete. “It shoots easy, Miss. Look out for it.”

“I’m looking out for you,” she answered, and her voice was cold.

Steele bound Jim’s arms behind him with the baling wire, twisting it securely with the pliers. He fastened strands about his knees and his ankles and finally gagged him with a table napkin, laying him in the Morris Chair which he set back to the full extent of the rods.

“You next, Petie,” he said.

Pete emerged clumsily, stiff from his crouch, to be treated in the same way.

“Now you’ve got front seats,” said Steele. “You can watch the performance. Will you bring in the coffee, Miss Deming?” While she was in the kitchen he stepped outside and scanned the landscape carefully. He clambered quickly to the top of the tall rock for a more comprehensive view. From his eyrie he could command all the valley and the gap through which the road entered. Satisfied, he stooped and examined the ends of several cigarettes.

“Tailor mades,” he muttered and tossed them away.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” he told the girl as he reentered the house.

She laughed up at him, five-foot-four to his six-feet-two, but the laugh was not in her eyes. They were serious.

“I warmed up the food while you were gone,” she said. “Is it all right? I confess I’m hungry.”

“Watch me,” he answered. The eyes of the deputies rolled in envious anger as Steele and the girl ate their meal.

“We won’t stay to wash the dishes,” he said, “though it’s against my bachelor principles to stack ’em. Lucky you chaps brought along some extra cartridges, we might need ’em,” he went on, as he buckled on the cartridge belt he had removed from Jim and filled his trouser pockets with the shells from that of Pete. “I’m out of smokin’,” he continued. “This ain’t like the Bull brand but it’ll do.” He stuffed his shirt pocket from the humidor on the mantel and, unperceived by the girl, picked up something which he concealed inside his shirt.

“Now then, we’re off,” he said.

“Our horses are gone,” she told him.

“Hines is a horse thief as well as sheriff,” he answered. “We’ll have to hoof it. My regards to Hines, Jim. Pete, you should have shared that sandwich with him. It’s a serious fault to be greedy. Adios, hombres.”

Outside the girl looked at him doubtfully.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“You want to find your brother, I take it?” She nodded her answer.

“I’ll help you. I’m hopin’ for a little chat with Hines, on the side. He stole my horse, not to mention yours. I set a sight by that horse. I’d hate to think of him keepin’ compn’y with Hines. He’ll get corrupted an’ I’ve spent a heap of time trainin’ him proper. Besides, Hines called me a liar an’ it’s agen my principles to allow any man to call me a liar, star or no star. I don’t lie.

He led her around the house, towards the sentinel rock.

“You don’t seem to take things very seriously,” she said.

Steele paused and looked at her.

“I was never more serious in my life,” he replied gravely. And she saw that his eyes matched his name.

“I saw some sign when I was out here before,” he said. “And I want to take another look before we travel.”

Again he mounted the rock and the girl watched the combined strength and agility with which he climbed. He came quickly down.

“All clear,” he announced. “We’ll start.”

“Where?”

“Satisfied for me to lead this party?”

“Yes.”

“I’m going to do the best I can for both of us. Understand that. You may have to trust me against appearances. I can’t tell. We want to get in touch with your brother before Hines does. There’s one or two things up at Twin Knobs I wouldn’t want Hines to find, an’ he might take a notion to go there. That can wait. Your brother smokes tailor-mades? I mean the kind of cigarettes that comes in a box?”

“Yes.”

“Straw tips?”

“Yes.” She answered this with a little reserve.

“Then he was up on top of that rock. I’ve a notion he saw Hines an’ his bunch comin’ through the cut yonder. For some reason they stopped, mebbe to water their horses. Likely that. For some reason your brother didn’t like the look of Hines, for which I don’t blame him. Seems like he was watchin’ while chow was bein’ fixed. When he tipped off the cheerful news the crowd faded, Chinese cook an’ all. On foot. They’ve hid out. Hines is after ’em.”

Her face looked old and weary as she faced him.

“I’ll have to ask you to trust me too,” she said slowly. “If Hines is after them it means they are outlaws. My brother went with them.”

“If they are outlaws, so are we. Don’t you worry over much about Hines.”

“But you tied up his deputies. And you helped me get away. I think they made a mistake about you. But my brother—”

“Shucks! They made the mistake of not tyin’ me. I ain’t losin’ flesh over them.” He seemed persistently to avoid her references to herself.

“But I don’t want you to get in trouble over my affairs—and my brother’s.”

“I’ve made ’em mine. You’re a woman, an’ a good woman.”

“How do you know that? You don’t know anything about me.”

“Shucks!” The wisdom in his glance waved aside the question. “’Sides,” he went on, “’twouldn’t make no difference. You’re in trouble, whether it’s the fault of your brother or not. I’m a trouble breaker. Let’s foller the crick down a ways. We’ll keep in the timber. I’ve a notion Hines an’ his pardners worked back along this way after they got rid of them extry horses. We’ll see. One advantage of bein’ afoot is we can keep out of their sight better than they can out of ours.”

“But—I am in trouble,” she said hurriedly as if she wanted to say something that was forced to utterance. “My trouble is my brother’s. I don’t know what it is. I only suspect something is wrong from—from things he wrote to me. He is younger than I am and he is easily led. Not really bad. Only—”

“Does you credit. He ought to have sense enough to savvy your brand. A kid is apt to trail someone he thinks is smart. Don’t stop to think an’ gits in too deep. But, even if he can’t swim, maybe someone’ll give him a helpin’ hand—like you. Shucks, you ought to know the foolishness I pulled off afore my horns grew.”

“That is just what happened. Then he went away on this trip. There is someone who has influence over him. Frank said he was done with him. He promised me.”

“Mebbe this chap is holdin’ somethin’ over him, or pretends he is.”

“Yes. And I was afraid that he was here, that he persuaded Jack to come. Then—”

Steele took her by the elbow and led her into a grove of willows.

“One of these monkey-cats, I reckon,” he said, “wanted Jack to paw out the chestnuts. Took good care he wouldn’t be burned. You were afraid he was here an’ then you were sure of it, when you saw this.”

He pulled the pipe from inside his shirt and showed it to her. She shrank from it.

“That is Wes—the other man’s pipe. How did you know?”

“Shucks! I’ve got eyes in my head. An’ I’m usin’ ’em most of the time they ain’t shut. Ears too—listen!”

She saw him stiffen, his face intent. Then she caught the faint sound of galloping hoofs, deadened by turf or soft ground.

“Hines,” he said softly. “comin’ this way. An’ comin’ back. By the sound I don’t believe he’s bringin’ anybody back with him.”

He drew her back into a thicket, where they crouched, silent, watchful. The clop—clop grew more distinct and soon Hines came into sight, riding fast, his face set in a frown. Behind him followed the deputies with the rifles. They pounded fast, making for the ranch house.

“Didn’t want to interview him this trip,” said Steele. “He’ll keep. But I’d give a dobe dollar to hear what happens to Jim an’ Pete. Here is where we burn the wind. Come on.”

He moved fast, trailing the tracks made by Hines. The girl kept up with him, striding freely as a boy in her riding togs.

III III

“YOU see,” said Steele to the girl, “I figger our friend Hines had some reason for bein’ up this way. Found some sort of trail an’ lost it, I wouldn’t wonder. Someone in that crowd along with your brother knows how to cover tracks. We’ll see if we can do any better. It’s a better bet than runnin’ blind an’ I’ve a little more than a hunch they follered the stream, myself. They’ve hid out somewhere. I reckon you’d like to git your brother by himself, to have a talk with him. If he ain’t in too deep, you figger to help him wade ashore, prevent him from catchin’ cold an’ keep dry from now on?”

They were walking side by side now. The girl flashed a look at him, saw his brows raised in query, noted that his eyes were kindly.

“That is just what I want to do,” she said. “But I can’t imagine why you should do all this for me. You’ve got yourself in trouble with the law. You’ve helped me to escape, you’re trying to help my brother and you don’t know a thing about me.”

“Shucks! My trouble with the law, you mean, is tyin’ up that Jim an’ Pete. That kind is better haltered than loose. As for Hines, he horned in on my affairs. I ain’t worryin’ about that part of it. As for the rest I don’t aim to see any woman put in a calaboose or otherwise imprisoned by the kindest-hearted sheriff that ever signed a warrant. An’ that’s a long way from describin’ Hines. You”—he gave her a look that held cordial goodfellowship but was shrewd with world wisdom—“if I figger I know any thing about humans, an’ I do, it bein’ in a way in my line of business, I know a thoroughbred from a bad cross. Placin’ you that way, as I do, I figger your brother bein’ blooded. May be a throwback, but with’ good blood. An’ that counts. It may ran a bit hot but it’ll cool, likely, give it time. This chap with the pipe, he’s another breed, I take it. You don’t have to tell me no more of your affairs. But mebbe we can find a way to separate your brother from this herd. He ain’t branded yet.”

She flashed him a look of gratitude. Her eyes were moist and her voice trembled a little.

“The man’s name is Burton. He has always had plenty of money, good clothes, a car. He is the sort to attract a boy like Frank. He isn’t exactly flashy, but he dresses well; his manners, on the surface, are well enough.”

“Interfere with you any, Miss?”

“Once. He won’t again.” Her eyes flashed. “He was always telling Frank he was a fool to settle down to work for a salary. Talked about using one’s brains. This is what happened, to make me know what he was. He proposed that Frank should pose in Denver as a cattle rancher, open an account at the bank. Then there was to be a draft presented, after others had gone through.”

“Savvy,” said Steele. “You needn’t go into details. This Burton was to be the monkey, your brother pussy. Draft was forged. If it went through Burton would get most of it, your brother a quarter, mebbe. If it went wrong, your brother would be caught. Burton figgered him for the kind who wouldn’t peach. Knew he had honor an’ the blood. An’ Burton would fade. If it was pulled off, your brother would have to fade too. He’d be under Burton’s thumb. Mebbe Burton might try to interfere with you again, havin’ a drag, you see, ’count of your brother.”

“That is just what I have thought. But I know Frank. I saw he was worried. He broke down one night and told me everything. Then came this letter from Burton inviting him up here. I suspected something and came on. I don’t see how you have guessed it all. I don’t know how to thank you.”

“Don’t try. Haven’t done much yet. There are more Burton’s than one roamin’ loose on the range, slicked up coyotes with their mangy hair curled. There’s a bounty on their scalps, too.”

He halted, pointing out tracks.

“Here’s where Sheriff Hines giv’ up,” he said. “See where they milled around. Now we’ll take a cast.”

They were close by the stream, fringed heavily with willows and cottonwoods. On either bank the ground, after a level strip, partly turf, partly shingle, sloped upwards, thick with quaking asps and undergrowth. Ahead, the valley closed in to the bed of the creek that fell in a cascade over a medley of rocks, a broken stairway some fifty feet high. Below the fall was a fairly deep pool, then it flowed on in a channel broken by smooth boulders, bleached under the sun. The current was swift, the depth apparently about five feet in the center.

Only the natural noises blended in a murmur of rushing water, softly waving branches, the whirr of cicadas. The girl looked at Steele with wide, attentive eyes as he moved hurriedly but without a wasted effort. He showed her where two horses had been ridden into the stream and out again, marked by displaced shingle, still a little moist.

“They’ve mussed up the original trail,” he said, speaking softly. I’ve seen a sign now an’ then but—”

He leaped easily from where they stood to the almost level surface of a rock that topped others, more irregular, standing well clear of the water. He stooped, then knelt, examining the surface of the rock. Then he closely examined the upstream sides of the pile. She saw his puzzled expression clearing a little. In two jumps he made the other side of the creek and began casting along the banks, bending double, suggesting a hound on trail. Once he seemed to pick up something. Returning, he repeated his tactics to the foot of the fall, climbed up it a little way, crossed back to her side, springing from rock to rock, and came to where she sat on a shingle bar set with tall weeds.

“There’s a scratch on that rock,” he said, “made by hobnails. Hines and his pals wear cowboy boots, same as me. An’ I found this.” He showed a soaked cigarette stub, straw tipped.

“Your brother smokes too much for his health,” he said drily. “I reckon he snitched this smoke on Burton. You see it’s only ha’f smoked. Chucked it away when Burton looked round. Shows they came up stream. Took to the water about here—or to the rocks. They could keep dryshod and clamber all the way up the fall. They’ve fooled Hines. They’d ’ve fooled me if I hadn’t picked up the trail above the fall. There’s another thing—but it don’t amount to much,” he broke off.

“I shouldn’t like you to be trailing me, if I had done anything wrong,” said the girl. “Are you a cowman?”

“I’ve sat leather, roped, branded an’ ridden herd for fifteen years, fairly steady,” he answered. “Why?”

“You trail like—like a—”

“A what? A sleuth? Shucks, Miss Deming, a cowman natcherally has to learn trail. It’s a part of his job. I’m goin’ up above the fall. Won’t be long. No sense in you comin’. Here—”

He handed her one of the guns taken from the two deputies.

“Why?” she asked.

“No especial reason. Just as well to go ahead. Hines might take a notion to come back. If you see a cottontail or willow grouse, try your luck for supper.”

“Supper? I had forgotten about food.”

“It don’t pay. You see”—he viewed her closely—“you see, Miss Deming, if we’re goin’ to find your brother—why—we’ll likely have to camp out to-night. I might have taken you over to the Twin Knobs house where you could be comfortable, but Hines is more ’n likely to take a trip over thataway an’ camp there himself. Pretty soft quarters for him to overlook. Won’t be safe for us to try.”

“I thought you said you had some papers there you didn’t want him to find.”

“Did I say papers? I’ve got to let that go for a while. I’ve got things tucked away. There’s a bottle or two of real Scotch whiskey up there an’ while I sure hate to think of it bein’ wasted on Hines an’ his pals, it may keep ’em occupied a bit. Now, if I don’t find anything up above, this is as good a place to camp as any. Sun’s gettin’ down. If you don’t shoot anything I aim to trail back to the house after dark an’ rustle some grub an’ blankets.”

She saw him looking at her quizzically, wondering, she fancied, whether she was going to show herself a prude, bothered about the proprieties in an emergency like this. He had taken her on trust. She felt that she could trust him, without reservation.

“It’s a risk, isn’t it, going back for food and blankets? We could get along without them for once. I’ve camped out before.”

A smile softened the stern look of his mouth and his eyes. For the first time she heard him laugh, showing his white teeth, a whole-hearted laugh that sounded like a boy’s. It made her feel as if she had known him and trusted him for a long while.

“I won’t take any risk I can’t git away with,” he assured her; “just rustle some grub an’ coverin’ an’ git back my own guns. I’ve a hunch Hines may have loaned ’em to Jim an’ Pete, seein’ they’re shy of hardware. But it’ll have to be after dark. We may be right hungry before we eat. You won’t be afraid to be left in the dark?”

She shook her head, smiling, and he laughed again.

“I reckon you’re what my friend Sangster, who owns Twin Knobs, calls a Three-P woman.”

“What’s that?”

“Somethin’ sort of rare, like the difference between free ore an’ fool’s gold. Pal, pardner an’ playmate! Bill Sangster’s lucky. He married one of that kind. She’s up to the mines, to Flivver Creek, now; playin’ mascot, or workin’ at it, rather.”

His eyes, absolutely frank, precluded any suggestion that he was trying to establish closer relations between them. The girl accused herself for harboring the idea. To cover her confusion, she spun the cylinder of the gun, examining it.

“Not so complicated as a typewriter,” he said, standing in front of her.

“How did you know I was a stenographer?”

“Didn’t. Guessed. You’d prefer to play with a gun, mebbe.”

“To play with what it stands for, free life and fresh air.”

He gave her a little friendly nod and strode off. She watched him clambering up the fall, disappearing over the top, her eyes a little hazy, a little dreamy. “You couldn’t call this man rough,” she told herself. Roughness suggested something unfinished, a machine before it is assembled. He might lack paint and varnish but he was most eminently efficient, sound, altogether a man.

It was over half an hour before Steele came back. Already shadows were deepening in the little gulch between the hills. His face was hard set. He had not found any sign though he had been thorough in his swift survey. He did not climb down the cascade but detoured through the aspens, coming out close to where he had left the girl. There was no sign of her.

Frowning, he beat about. He saw tracks to indicate where she had gone down to the creek. And that was all. Working swiftly, he made certain there was no other indication. She had vanished, her trail lost as had been that of her brother and Burton, and the rest of the little household.

He surveyed the stream. Once more he landed on the flat rock where he had seen the distinct scratches of a heavily nailed sole that had scored on landing. Again he bent and narrowly observed the borders of the upstream rocks, rising with a frown in two deep lines between his brows. Straightened, he covered every inch of the clear water. A gleam shot from his eyes and he sat on the big rock, lowered himself to the water and waded down the channel to where a bar broke it into riffles. There he picked up something, brought it up stream in the palm of his hand, tossed it into the water in half a dozen places, watching it slowly sink and go skipping lightly over the bot tom, swayed in the sub-currents, to land at last in the same spot from which he had first retrieved it.

He held it in his hand for a moment before he tucked it away in the pocket of his shirt, searching the gulch meanwhile. It was a celluloid hairpin. He rolled a cigarette, smoked it to the end, pinched out the stub, then threw it on one side as if abandoning caution as unnecessary.

Then he struck the trail back to the house, going swiftly, silently through the gathering dusk, alert as an Indian, his face grim.

IV IV

JUD STEELE was not the type that wastes time over theories that prove untenable or cannot be worked out to a legitimate conclusion. He arrayed facts as he found them, fitted them together and, if they did not solve the puzzle, waited for more facts to be evolved.

One idea, that Hines might have returned and carried off the girl while he was above the fall, was soon exploded. Hines was unable to move without leaving a trail; there was no trail. The girl had vanished just as her brother and his companions had vanished—save for one thing. They had obliterated themselves voluntarily; he was not so sure about the girl. It was a mystery that he could immediately solve; he had other to do.