Other riders followed, slipping in like wolves from the range, seven or
eight of them, their horses jaded as if they had been long upon the
road. Cowboys in with another herd to load, she thought. And with the
thought the first horseman, who had remained this little while in the
middle of the street gazing around the town, rode up to the hitching
rack beside the bank and dismounted. Rhetta gasped, drawing back from
the window, her heart jumping in sudden alarm.
Seth Craddock!
There could be no mistaking the man, slow-moving when he dismounted,
tall and sinewy, watchful as a battered old eagle upon its crag. With
these ruffians at his back, gathered from the sweepings of no knowing
how many outlawed camps, he had come in the vengeance that had gathered
like a storm in his evil heart, to punish Ascalon and its marshal for
his downfall and disgrace.
CHAPTER XXV
A SUMMONS AT SUNRISE
Three horses were standing in Stilwell's yard, bridle reins on the
ground, as three horses had stood on the morning that Morgan first found
his tortured way to that hospitable door. In the house the Stilwell
family and Morgan were at breakfast, attended by Violet, who bore on
biscuits and ham to go with the coffee that sent its cheer out through
the open door as if to find a traveler and lead him to refreshment.
Behind the cottonwoods along the river, sunrise was about to break.
"I'm gittin' so I can't wake up of a morning when I sleep in a house,"
Stilwell complained, his broad face radiating humor. "I guess I'll have
to take the blankets ag'in, old lady."
"I guess you can afford to sleep till half-past three in the morning
once in a while," Mrs. Stilwell said complacently. "Why, Mr. Morgan,
that man didn't sleep under a roof once a month the first five or six
years we were on this range! He just laid out like a coyote anywhere
night overtook him, watchin' them cattle like they were children. Now,
what's come of it!"
This last bitter note, ranging back to their recent loss from Texas
fever, took the cheer out of Stilwell's face. A brooding cloud came over
it; his merry chaff was stilled.
"Yes, and Drumm'll pay for them eight hundred head of stock he killed
for us, if I have to trail him to his hole in Texas!" Fred declared.
"Suit or no suit, that man's goin' to pay."
"I don't like to hear you talk that way, honey," his mother chided.
"Suit!" Fred scoffed; "what does that man care about a suit? He'll never
show his head in this country any more, the next drive he makes he'll
load west of here and we'll never know anything about it. There's just
one way to fix a man like him, and I know the receipt that'll cure _his_
hide!"
"If he ever drives another head of stock into this state I'll hear of
it, and I'll attach him. It'll be four or five years before the
railroad's built down into that country, he'll have to drive here or
nowheres. I'll set right here on this range till he comes."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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