Across Texas

From what had taken place, he was absolutely certain that the Apaches had no suspicion that any whites were near the building. It followed therefore that no precaution had been taken against his approach, but they were vigilant enough to demand all the subtlety he possessed.

He was creeping forward in his guarded manner when, without the least warning, he saw the outlines of a figure in front, which, although dimly observed, he knew was one of the Apaches.

The trapper sank down again, with his keen eyes fixed on the warrior, who was standing with his back toward him, apparently studying the ground in the direction of the building, which was too far off to be seen, since Eph himself could not catch the most shadowy outlines of it.

Since the Apache had not observed the white man, there was no cause why he should do so, unless accident should lead him to face about. Without waiting a moment Eph began retreating, keeping his gaze on the redskin, who faded almost from view in the gloom.

Then the trapper turned to the right and resumed his advance toward the building. Time was too valuable to wait for the Indian to shift his position, which, as likely as not, would prove unfavorable.

The flank movement was so regulated that he kept his enemy dimly in sight, for he did not mean to be surprised by any sudden action on his part.

All this was well enough, but the Apache overthrew the whole scheme by an unexpected movement.

The trapper was on his right, and a couple of rods distant, when the warrior seemed to conclude that it was time for him to do something. He stepped off at his usual pace, which would have carried him speedily beyond sight had Eph been somewhere else, but unfortunately he moved straight toward the old hunter.

To retreat or advance would have been certain betrayal, and Eph did not attempt it. Instead, he silently drew his pistol and grasped it, ready for firing.

The Apache had no thought of anything of this kind, but he had taken less than three paces, when he discovered the figure on the earth in front of him. He uttered no outcry, but stopped and placed his hand at his waist, as if to draw a weapon therefrom. He, too, carried a gun, most likely a Winchester, and was expert in its use. He had no blanket, his body being bare above the waist, and his long, coarse hair dangled about his shoulders. He was much shorter and smaller in every way than the white man, but every ounce of his body was like that of a tiger.

The Indian might have brought instant help by a signal, but to do that would have been a confession that he was afraid to attack a single individual, and the warrior “wasn’t that sort of a fellow.”

His pause was only momentary. He stooped down like an animal about to leap across a chasm and the trapper caught a movement of his right hand, which convinced him the warrior had drawn a knife and meant to spring upon him.

Eph’s revolver was leveled at the savage, who was still stealing forward when a single chamber was discharged. The shot was unerring, and (what was singular in the case of an American Indian) he sank downward without any outcry.

The trapper needed no one to tell him what next to do. He knew the report of his weapon would bring nearly if not all the other Apaches to the spot, and he could not get away too soon. Springing to his feet, he loped swiftly toward the building, never pausing until he stood in front of the broad door.

He glanced keenly to the right and left while making this run, but though he heard the sounds of hoofs, he saw none of the raiders eager for the chance to cut him down.

Within a half minute after the shot was fired an Apache reached the spot on his pony, and was quickly joined by five others, all mounted. The prostrate figure told the story, but the author of their comrade’s death was gone.

While one of them lifted the inanimate figure upon his steed, the others separated to find the white man who had slain him. They did this with rare skill, but they were misled from the start. Knowing nothing of those outside the building, their supposition must have been that one of them had stolen out of the structure and gained this point before discovery. It was not to be supposed that he was striving to enter instead of leave the place, and they therefore widened the circle, when they should have contracted it.

CHAPTER XXXIII.

IMPORTANT NEGOTIATIONS

THE shot which the trapper fired in self-defence, therefore, was of the utmost help in his approach to the old mission building, for it broke the line of circumvallation, which otherwise would have been impassable to anyone seeking to enter or leave the structure.

To this also was due the escape of Strubell and Lattin when they hastened to the spot. It may be said that the entire plan of the Apaches was disarranged. In trying to cover so extensive a circle, they left of necessity vast gaps, through which the Texans passed without detection. It must have been one of the Apaches engaged in this curious hunt that approached Herbert Watrous, as he lay on the summit of the elevation awaiting the return of his friends.

The trapper did the best thing possible, for he had taken but a few steps when the outlines of the old mission house assumed form in the gloom, and he did not halt until he was at the door.

Despite the stirring incident through which he had just passed, none of them tried his nerve as did this last phase of his experience. He could not know how long he would be kept waiting; the Apaches were sure to appear shortly. If forced to stay for a brief period where he was, he must be discovered, and the position of a single man at bay in front of a building, without the liberty to enter, and obliged to meet the attack of a dozen enemies, need not be dwelt upon.

Eph gave the heavy door several violent kicks the moment it was within reach, and the sound could not only have been heard throughout the interior, but a long way beyond. The Apaches were sure to make a speedy investigation.

Fortunately for the trapper he was not kept long in suspense. Bell Rickard could not fail to hear the energetic summons, and quickly called from one of the upper windows, taking care not to expose himself:

“Who’s there?”

“Me, Eph Bozeman.”

“Where the mischief did you come from?” asked the criminal, now venturing to thrust his head from the window.

“Never mind whar I come from,” replied the impatient applicant; “come down an’ let me in powerful quick or you won’t git the chance to let me in at all.”

“All right! I’ll be there.”

It seemed a long while before Rickard descended to the door, during every second of which Eph expected the Apaches. He stood ready to let fly with rifle and revolver at the first sight, but, while waiting, he heard Rickard at the door, which was speedily unbarred, and he stepped inside more quickly than he had ever done anything of the kind before.

All was dark, but Rickard did not speak until he had refastened the door, which was composed of a species of carved wood, still seen in the old mission houses of the Southwest, which is hardly less strong and endurable than the adobe walls themselves.

The trapper was so familiar with the interior of the structure that he walked readily along the broad, open hallway, into the court beyond, where there was sufficient light to observe the figure of his companion as he led the way to a small apartment opening into the court, and within which a dim light was burning.

Into this the two passed, on the first floor, where Eph found himself face to face with Bell Rickard and Harman Slidham, whom he had met a short time before, and knew to be among the most lawless characters in the States and Territories.

“I was up in front of the building,” said Rickard, “looking out for the Apaches when I heard you at the door.”

“Yes,” replied the trapper, “I tried to make you hear me.”

The room which the three entered was one of a dozen similar ones, opening upon the court in the centre, the building forming what might be described as a hollow square. Many years before the apartment had probably been used as sleeping quarters by the fathers, who devoted their lives to labor among the Indians, who, it must be confessed, rarely showed any appreciation of their self-sacrifice.

It was twenty feet deep, and perhaps half as broad, without furniture, but with walls several feet in thickness. The only openings were the door and two narrow windows facing the court. These let in sufficient light to give all the illumination required during the daytime.

In the rear of this room Rickard kept his supply of meal and dried meat for such contingencies as the one that now seemed upon him. The door, of the same material as the main one, could be secured so that a forced entrance required great labor and effort, while the windows were too strait to allow the smallest person to squeeze his body through.

From an iron bracket in the wall burned an oil lamp which lit up the interior, showing the sacks of grain and a couple of boxes containing dried meat. The sacks and boxes furnished seats for the men during their conference.

The trapper glanced searchingly around, and was surprised to see nothing of Nick Ribsam, though he made no reference to it; but knowing of the supply of water, he asked for a draught before opening proceedings.

An earthen vessel contained a gallon or so, which Slidham had brought only a short time before from the spring near by. Eph quaffed long and deep before setting it on the rough floor, and drew the back of his hand across his mouth, with a sigh of enjoyment.

“You can’t improve much on that,” he remarked, resuming his seat on one of the bags of grain.

“No; it goes pretty well when you have been without anything for two or three days,” replied Rickard, who suspected the errand that had brought his old acquaintance thither.

“It isn’t as bad as that, but we haven’t had a swaller sence crossing the Pecos to-day.”

“You say ‘we’; how is that, Eph? When we parted you were travelling the other way, and no one was with you.”

“You’re right on that, but I met Ard Strubell and Baker Lattin, who had a younker with ‘em, and they war after you.”

“After me! What was that for?”

“Come, Bell, none of that; you understand what it means; you’ve got a younker, and they want him.”

“Are they willing to pay for him?” asked the horse thief.

“Wal, if you’re mean ‘nough to ask it, they’re ready to give something, but, Bell, I hardly expected this of you; I knowed you war dealin’ in hoss-flesh, but I didn’t know you war goin’ to start in this line of bus’ness.”

Eph Bozeman was a man who spoke his mind under all circumstances, and he felt not the slightest fear of the couple, who had followed a life of outlawry for many years.

Slidham lit his pipe and listened. Rickard was the leader, and he was content to let him do the talking for the two. The evil fellow did not beat about the bush.

“It doesn’t make any difference to me what you expected or didn’t expect; you wouldn’t have come here at this time unless it was on business, and if you’ve got anything to say to me there’s no use in waiting.”

“I guess mebbe your right, Bell; of course Ard and Baker know what you run off with the younker for; you mean to keep him till you get a reward for givin’ him up.”

“You’ve hit it the first time,” replied Rickard.

“Wal, the boys talked it over, and they didn’t like it much, but the younker with them says he’s willin’ to give somethin’, but nothin’ very big. How much do you want?”

“What are they willing to pay?”

“That isn’t the way to hit it, Bell, name what you want, and if it’s too big why I’ll go back and tell ‘em so, and they won’t give it, that’s all, but wait for a chance to even matters with you.”

“What would they say to five thousand?” asked Rickard in a hesitating way which gave the cue to the trapper. He rose abruptly from where he sat on the sack of meal.

“Let me out the gate.”

“What for?” asked the surprised criminal.

“When you talk that way, thar’s no need of my waitin’.”

“I asked you to name a sum, but you wouldn’t.”

“I didn’t s’pose you war goin’ to ask all the money thar is in New York,” said the trapper, whose ideas of the financial resources of the great metropolis were crude.

“Well, make a proposal and I’ll tell you what I’ll do.”

“Baker thought five hundred was plenty, but Ard said if you stuck out I might go a thousand.”

“It’s the other young man that pays it, isn’t it?”

“Of course.”

“What does he say?”

“Not much of anything,” replied Eph, who saw the advantage he possessed and did not mean to let go of it.

“How is he going to pay the money? Has he got it with him?”

“Of course not; but he explained that he would give you a draft – I b’lieve they call it – that is, a piece of paper with writin’ on it, which you can hand over to Mr. Lord in Santone, and he’ll pay you a thousand dollars – which shows what a fool Mr. Lord is, for how can a piece of paper be worth anything like that?”

“You’re asking me to trust them a good way,” said Rickard, who had hoped that the parties would be able to produce the funds, “for they may get word to the banker and he won’t pay it. Then I’ll be out with no way to help myself.”

“As I figger it,” said the trapper, wrinkling his brow with thought, and anxious to display his knowledge, “thar aint no way of fixin’ it without takin’ a risk like that. You’ve knowed me and Ard Strubell and Baker Lattin for a good many years, and you know that when we give our promise we’ll stick to it. Aint that so?”

“I don’t dispute it.”

“Wal, then, we three, includin’ likewise the younker as is to pay the money, give you our promise that if you’ll send this one with you back to them, with his hoss, gun, an’ everything right, they’ll give you that paper, which will bring you one thousand dollars the minute you hand it to Mr. Lord in Santone.”

“That seems to be straight, though I ought to have more.”

“I forgot to say that the younker said if you should ask a big sum he couldn’t save trouble in your gettin’ it, which means, I s’pose, that he’ll have to work it through New York, or somethin’ like that, but thar won’t be any trouble ‘bout five hundred or a thousand dollars.”

CHAPTER XXXIV.

A STRANGE DISCOVERY

BELDEN RICKARD understood business customs much better than the simple-hearted trapper, though it will be admitted that the latter managed his part with cleverness. He had expected to agree upon a ransom of five thousand dollars at the least, and it has been shown that Herbert Watrous was willing, under stress, to advance double that sum for the release of his friend; but the amount was fixed at one thousand, which is far below the usual rates.

Rickard understood what Eph meant when he spoke of the trouble about arranging for the payment of a greater amount. Young Watrous had a credit to the extent named with Banker Lord of San Antonio, and to secure more he would have to consult with his parents in New York.

This meant delay, which he was anxious above everything to avoid, since it involved personal danger to him. As it was, he dreaded presenting himself to so well-known a resident as the banker, but was thinking of turning over the draft to some trustworthy friend when Eph, recalling what Herbert had told him to say, added that the young man would give him a letter to Mr. Lord that would prevent the very trouble he feared.

This closed negotiations. Rickard accepted the terms and did a neat piece of diplomacy by saying:

“No matter how this is fixed I’ve got to trust you folks, so I will do it clear through; I’ll send the boy back with you, and you can tell your friends to arrange it with the banker so that I’ll get the money whenever I call or send someone, and no questions will be asked.”

“I’ll guarantee that that’ll be done,” was the emphatic pledge of the trapper, who not only meant every word, but knew there would be no withdrawal or deception on the part of his friends.

“But,” added Rickard, who, strangely enough, had overlooked one momentous fact, “what about the Apaches? Old Kimmaho and his gang are out there, and there’s no saying when they’ll go.”

This was the most serious phase of the business. Old Eph had been speculating over it from the moment he left his companions on the elevation.

Now that the terms were agreed upon with the captors of Nick Ribsam, and they were ready to turn him over to his friends, how was he to be escorted back to them?

“Didn’t you have trouble in getting here?” asked the criminal of the trapper.

“I had a little brush, and dropped one of the varmints.”

“That, then, was your pistol that I heard?”

“I shouldn’t wonder, bein’ as I fired off a pistol while tryin’ to make a call on you.”

“If you had such trouble in slipping by the Apaches, you are sure to have a good deal more when the boy is with you. You know old Kimmaho, Eph?”

“I rather think so; he’s as bad as Geronimo.”

“Then when he has learned of what took place, he and his warriors will be more watchful than before.”

“Thar can be no doubt of that,” replied the trapper, with an impressive nod of his head; “I wouldn’t be afeard to try it alone if thar war twice as many, but I won’t be able to manage it with the younker.”

“What shall be done?”

“You may shoot me if I know; I’ve been figgerin’ over the bus’ness for the last hour and can’t make nothin’ of it.”

But Rickard had a proposition to make. It was a singular one, but he was in earnest and would have kept his part as faithfully as he knew the other parties would keep their pledge.

“You can get back to Strubell and Lattin if you try it alone; do that, and then all of you come in here with me. I will be on the lookout so that you can dash right through the door as soon as you reach it.”

The curious feature about this proposition is that while it was the most feasible that could be thought of, it displayed a certain chivalry on the part of the horse thieves, which would have struck anyone as inconsistent with the character of the one making it.

“It’s the idea,” said old Eph, after thinking it over for a few seconds; “now, if you’ll fetch the younker so that I can have a few words with him, I’ll be ready to start back; I’d like to be able to tell his friends that I seen him again and spoke to him.”

“Of course,” said Rickard, turning to Slidham and saying something in so low a tone that the sharp-eared trapper could not catch the words. The fellow, who had simply held his peace, smoked and listened, nodded his head, rose, and passed through the open door into the courtyard. Eph heard his footsteps on the adobe pavement, which had been trod and seasoned during the past century into a hardness like that of the walls themselves.

When the sounds died out the trapper threw a ponderous leg over the other, puffed at his pipe, and, looking across in the face of one of the most famous horse thieves in Western Texas, asked in his off-hand fashion:

“How’s business, Bell?”

“Mighty bad,” was the reply, accompanied by a shake of the head.

“How’s that?”

“There are too many at it, and the officers are after us too sharp. You remember Zip Cooley?”

“I’ve knowed Zip for twenty years, but have lost track of him for the past two or three seasons. How is he?”

“He’s at rest at last,” replied Rickard, with another sigh. “The vigilantes down in Nacogdoches country got the drop on him – used him mighty mean – made him dance on nothing, with his chin among the limbs of a tree. Poor Zip was one of the best men I ever had, but he’s crossed the big divide.”

“That was bad for Zip,” said Eph grimly, “but I don’t reckon the folks down in Nacogdoches will rear a monument reachin’ to the clouds to keep his mem’ry green.”

“Then,” added Rickard, “Waxhurst and Doffgo wanted to branch out, so they crossed over into Arkansas, made a good haul, and started through the Indian Nation.”

“How did they make out?”

“Well, they ‘branched out’ the same as poor Zip; you see, our gang has been cut down pretty low, and when the rangers gather one in, there isn’t enough at hand to rally, shoot the officers, and rescue him.”

“What a blamed pity,” growled the trapper, leisurely puffing his pipe, “that thar warn’t enough of you just to clean things out atween El Paso and Santone.”

“No; I wouldn’t want it as good as that; but we ought to have enough to make it interesting, and give a fellow a chance to make an honest living. I had a pretty close call myself a couple of months ago.”

“How was that?”

“It was over in the Panhandle; Slidham and me were alone, and they run us hot, but we tumbled the leader out of his saddle, hit the man next to him, and before they could get things in shape, slipped off in the moonlight.”

“Isn’t Slidham a long time bringin’ that younker?” asked Eph, looking impatiently at the door.

“Yes – ah, here he is!”

The man appeared at that moment, his face showing that he was agitated over something. He gave Rickard an anxious look, and, without speaking, nodded his head in a way which signified something important.

“Eph, you’ll excuse me for a few minutes,” said the leader, hastily rising to his feet and moving to the door; “I won’t keep you waiting long.”

The couple passed out together and the trapper found himself for the first time entirely alone. He cared nothing for that, however, but continued slowly puffing his pipe, and wondering what the action of the others could mean.

Several times he heard them moving about the court, and when he was on the point of going to them, with a demand for an explanation, Rickard returned, hastily stepped within the apartment, and without sitting down looked earnestly at his visitor.

“Eph,” said he, “don’t you believe I’m playing square with you?”

“What put that ar silly question in your head? Of course I do.”

“We agreed on the terms, didn’t we?”

“That’s just what we done.”

“Well, the deal is off.”

“What do you mean by such stuff?” demanded the trapper, unable to repress his astonishment. “Aint you satisfied with the tarms?”

“Of course, but I can’t carry out my part; I can’t deliver the goods.”

“WHAT!”

“Nick Ribsam isn’t in the building; he has escaped!”

CHAPTER XXXV.

THROUGH THE LINES AGAIN

THERE could be no doubt of the truth of the startling declaration of Bell Rickard. He had no object in deceiving the trapper, for his failure to produce Nick Ribsam deprived him of the liberal ransom agreed upon by the representative of Herbert Watrous.

He stated that he had told his prisoner of the plan he had in view, so that the youth might be relieved of all dread of violence or harm, and could be content to abandon whatever plans he had in mind of escape. He assured him that, even if he succeeded in getting away, he would be in greater danger than ever, since the chances were against his finding his friends, while the Apaches were quite sure to find him.

Nick seemed to be impressed with this view, and Rickard and Slidham concluded that he meant to wait patiently for his release by the method explained to him. It now looked as if Nick had succeeded in outwitting his captors, after all, and that his apparent resignation was meant to deceive them into relaxing their watchfulness.

Although the two men and boy were observed by Kimmaho and his warriors as they rode up to the adobe structure, they were able to enter and secure the massive door before the Apaches could interfere. Rickard assured Nick that it was a fortunate thing for them, since they would have been badly caught but for the refuge, where they could laugh at the enmity of ten times that number of warriors.

If the criminal had felt any misgivings as to the intentions of Nick, they were removed by this time; for, after having refused all the chances offered him, who would suppose that he would place himself in the most imminent peril possible from the Apaches, when he had no knowledge that his friends were within a hundred miles?

Nevertheless he was gone. When Rickard found the trapper at the door, he asked Nick to remain in another part of the building until the interview was over. It struck him that it was better that he should not listen to the negotiations, though he was willing to bring him forward when asked to do so.