"She"d want him to ask her first," said Hazel, not a whit put out.
Riley turned to Billy in mock surprise. "Ain"t you asked her yet, Bill? Shucks, whatsa matter with you? You make me sick, and she don"t like it either. G"on--propose. I"m with you. We all are. And she expects it, can"t you see? G"on, Tommy Tucker, sing for your supper."
But Tommy Tucker firmly refused to sing. Instead he seized the jibing Mr. Tyler by the ankle and skidded him off the step.
"Ow-wow! You poor flap!" bawled the erstwhile humorist, who had picked up a splinter. "Leggo my leg, or I"ll roll you!"
But it was Riley Tyler who was rolled, and rolled thoroughly.
"You boys stop that!" directed Hazel, appearing in the doorway with a bucket. "Acting just like overgrown kids! You ought to be ashamed!
Bill, I"ll take that bucket of water now, and Riley, how about fetching in an armful of wood for your auntie?"
The two men started to obey, but stopped short in their tracks.
Billy c.o.c.ked a listening ear. "Wasn"t that a shot?"
"Down the draw," responded Riley.
"Near the Hillsville trail," was Hazel"s opinion. "There goes another, and another."
"It"s no hunter," declared Billy. "I can hear horses galloping."
Within five minutes they three saw a horse come galloping. He was tearing up the draw. The man on his back was half-turned about in the saddle, a rifle at his shoulder. He fired. They could not see what he was firing at. There was a bend in the draw concealing what was behind him.
But they could hear the galloping of the other horses quite plainly.
The drum of the racing hoofs grew louder. Three horses swept round the bend in the draw. They were followed by two others. The pursuers uttered a yell as they sighted the house. The pursued fired twice without effect. There was a crackle of shots from the five hors.e.m.e.n.
Apparently none took effect on either the pursued or his mount.
Billy regarded the pursued"s mount with critical eyes. "That horse is about done."
"Yeah," acquiesced Riley. "Not another mile left in him."
It was but too evident that the horse was in distress. He rolled a little in his stride. Once he stumbled. The rider caught him up with a jerk. The man turned a desperate, determined face toward the house in the draw ahead of him. He was not fifty yards from the house. The draw was wide. He sheered his horse to one side. The animal staggered, crossed his legs and turned a complete somersault. The rider flew from the saddle, turned over in the air and struck hard on his head and right shoulder. The horse lurched to his feet and stood trembling. The man lay still.
The pursuing hors.e.m.e.n were coming along at their tightest licks, but it was Billy and Riley Tyler who were the first to reach the fallen man.
Hazel, kilting her skirt in both hands, had run with them.
Billy stooped and turned over the sprawled-out citizen. The man, a square-jawed youngster with a stubby brown mustache, lay breathing heavily. His sun-burnt skin was a little white. Hazel pushed Billy to one side and sat down beside the young fellow.
"Let me," she said quietly, and took his head in her lap. "Riley, get me some water quick and the whisky bottle on the shelf over the fireplace."
Riley darted toward the house.
The five riders dashed up and flung themselves from their saddles.
They were Rafe Tuckleton, Jonesy, the Tuckleton foreman, Ben Shanklin and two more of the Tuckleton outfit. Billy faced them, his thumbs hooked in his sagging belt.
"Caught him!" Rafe e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed with satisfaction, striding forward, his men at his heels.
"He don"t look shot any," said Jonesy.
"Not a hole in him," Billy told them. "He"ll be all right in a minute."
Tuckleton laughed harshly. "He"s due for a relapse about a minute after that. Jonesy, get your rope. That spruce up there on the flat will be fine."
Hazel uttered a gasp of horror.
"What do you expect to hang him for, Rafe?" demanded Billy.
"Caught him branding one of my calves," was the ugly reply. "Reason enough?"
"I don"t believe it!" cried Hazel.
"You know him?" Rafe inquired contemptuously.
"I never saw him before in my life. But he doesn"t look like a rustler. He"s got a good face."
The Tuckleton outfit was moved to mirth.
"A good face!" yelped the fox-faced Ben Shanklin, slapping his leg. "A good face! That"s a fine one!"
"I expect we"ll have to turn him loose, boys," Jonesy said sarcastically, returning from his horse, and shaking out the coil of rope.
"Oh, I guess we"ll string him up all right," Rafe said with confidence.
"Don"t let them, Billy!" begged Hazel.
Billy made instant decision. ""Nds up!"
Which command was backed by a six-shooter trained on the center of Rafe"s abdomen. The way the Tuckleton hands flew upward and locked thumbs above the Tuckleton hat was gratifying. But the Tuckleton face was empurpled with rage.
"Of course," remarked Billy, "one of you may hit me, but if I go Rafe goes with me."
"It"s all right, boys," Rafe a.s.sured his hesitating followers in a voice thick with anger. "Lemme argue this thing."
"There"ll be no hanging here," said Billy.
"You bet not!" chimed in the voice of Riley Tyler from a position thirty yards distant on the right.
Riley had returned with the water and whisky. He had been sufficiently thoughtful to bring with him a double-barreled shotgun. He stood, the firearm held level with his hip, the blunt twin muzzles gaping at the Tuckleton outfit.
"Hazel," said Riley, "I wanna borrow this shotgun for a few minutes. I found it leaning inside the door. Ben, I wish you"d come over here and take this water and whisky to the lady. I"m stuck here, sort of."
"You go ahead, Ben," said Billy. "Don"t lemme detain you."
Ben went slowly. He plumped whisky and bucket on the ground beside Hazel and then began to sidle casually toward the house.
"You come right back," urged Riley, gesturing with the shotgun. "The best place for you is right beside Jonesy. He"s gettin" lonesome for you already, ain"t you, Jonesy?"
Jonesy spat upon the ground. Ben slouched back to his comrades. While this byplay had been going on, Tuckleton had been talking at Billy.