“Wright, what'll you do with him?” I queried, as if uncertain, now the capture was made. I let Snecker go and sheathed my weapon.
That seemed a signal for him to come to life. I guessed he had not much fancied the wide and somewhat variable sweep of that cocked gun.
“I'll see to that,” replied Wright gruffly, and he pushed Snecker in front of him into the hall. I followed them out into the court at the back of the house.
As I had very little further curiosity I did not wait to see where they went, but hurried back to relieve Miss Sampson and Sally.
I found them as I had left them—Sally quiet, pale, Miss Sampson nervous and distressed. I soon calmed their fears of any further trouble or possible disturbance. Miss Sampson then became curious and wanted to know who the rustler was.
“How strange he should come here,” she said several times.
“Probably he'd run this way or thought he had a better chance to hide where there was dancing and confusion,” I replied glibly.
I wondered how much longer I would find myself keen to shunt her mind from any channel leading to suspicion.
“Would papa have arrested him?” she asked.
“Colonel Sampson might have made it hot for him,” I replied frankly, feeling that if what I said had a double meaning it still was no lie.
“Oh, I forgot—the Ranger!” she exclaimed suddenly. “That awful sight—the whole front of him bloody! Russ, how could he stand up under such a wound? Do you think it'll kill him?”
“That's hard to say. A man like Steele can stand a lot.”
“Russ, please go find him! See how it is with him!” she said, almost pleadingly.
I started, glad of the chance and hurried down toward the town.
There was a light in the little adobe house where he lived, and proceeding cautiously, so as to be sure no one saw me, I went close and whistled low in a way he would recognize. Then he opened the door and I went in.
“Hello, son!” he said. “You needn't have worried. Sling a blanket over that window so no one can see in.”
He had his shirt off and had been in the act of bandaging a wound that the bullet had cut in his shoulder.
“Let me tie that up,” I said, taking the strips of linen. “Ahuh! Shot you from behind, didn't he?”
“How else, you locoed lady-charmer? It's a wonder I didn't have to tell you that.”
“Tell me about it.”
Steele related a circumstance differing little from other attempts at his life, and concluded by saying that Snecker was a good runner if he was not a good shot.
I finished the bandaging and stood off, admiring Steele's magnificent shoulders. I noted, too, on the fine white skin more than one scar made by bullets. I got an impression that his strength and vitality were like his spirit—unconquerable!
“So you knew it was Bill Snecker's son?” I asked when I had told him about finding the rustler.
“Sure. Jim Hoden pointed him out to me yesterday. Both the Sneckers are in town. From now on we're going to be busy, Russ.”
“It can't come too soon for me,” I replied. “Shall I chuck my job? Come out from behind these cowboy togs?”
“Not yet. We need proof, Russ. We've got to be able to prove things. Hang on at the ranch yet awhile.”
“This Bo Snecker was scared stiff till he recognized Wright. Isn't that proof?”
“No, that's nothing. We've got to catch Sampson and Wright red-handed.”
“I don't like the idea of you trailing along alone,” I protested. “Remember what Neal told me. I'm to kick. It's time for me to hang round with a couple of guns. You'll never use one.”
“The hell I won't,” he retorted, with a dark glance of passion. I was surprised that my remark had angered him. “You fellows are all wrong. I know
“Did you shoot at Snecker?” I queried.
“I could have got him in the back. But that wouldn't do. I shot three times at his legs—tried to let him down. I'd have made him tell everything he knew, but he ran. He was too fast for me.”
“Shooting at his legs! No wonder he ran. He savvied your game all right. It's funny, Vaughn, how these rustlers and gunmen don't mind being killed. But to cripple them, rope them, jail them—that's hell to them! Well, I'm to go on, up at the ranch, falling further in love with that sweet kid instead of coming out straight to face things with you?”
Steele had to laugh, yet he was more thoughtful of my insistence.
“Russ, you think you have patience, but you don't know what patience is. I won't be hurried on this job. But I'll tell you what: I'll hang under cover most of the time when you're not close to me. See? That can be managed. I'll watch for you when you come in town. We'll go in the same places. And in case I get busy you can stand by and trail along after me. That satisfy you?”
“Fine!” I said, both delighted and relieved. “Well, I'll have to rustle back now to tell Miss Sampson you're all
