Part 45 (1/2)
He jumped to his feet, gun in hand, as the chair set against the door sc.r.a.ped back from it. Out of the darkness staggered Sheila McCrae.
Water dripped from her old pony hat and ran in little rivulets from a long, yellow slicker. From head to foot she was spattered with mud. Her face was pale, drawn, and dirt-smeared, and blood oozed slowly from a jagged cut above her left eye. She swayed from side to side as she walked.
Kitty Wade cried out; Clyde rose swiftly in quick sympathy. But Casey was before her.
”Sheila--girl--what's the matter?” he exclaimed.
She stretched out her arms to him gropingly.
”Where's Tom, Casey? They're after him. Maybe they're after you.
Father's hurt. Sandy----I can't talk, Casey. I guess--I'm--all in.”
He caught her as she fell forward, lifting her in his arms as easily as if she had been a child, and laid her on a couch.
”No, no,” he said, as Clyde would have put cus.h.i.+ons beneath her head.
”Let her lie flat.” He unb.u.t.toned the slicker, and opened her dress halfway from throat to waist, stripping it away with ruthless hand. A bare shoulder and arm showed bruised and discoloured. ”She's been in some mix-up--had a fall or something. Wade, get me some whiskey and water!” His long fingers closed on her wrist. ”She'll be all right in five minutes, unless something's broken. Mrs. Wade, get in here and loosen her corsets. Give her a chance.”
Kitty stooped obediently, and straightened up in amazement.
”Why--she----”
”Well, how did I know?” snapped Casey. He ran his hand down her side.
”No ribs broken; arms all right. Good!”
Sheila's long lashes fluttered against her cheeks, she sighed and opened her eyes.
”Casey,” she said, ”never mind me. Look out for yourself. Where's Tom?
There are men coming to-night. I was afraid----”
”All right, Sheila,” he interrupted. ”Tom is safe. The men have gone.
No trouble at all. Just lie quiet till things steady a little. Have a drink of this.”
Clyde brought water, sponge, and towels. She cleansed Sheila's face and hands, and deftly dressed the cut in her forehead.
”You make me feel like a baby,” said Sheila. ”I never fainted before in my life. I didn't think I could faint. I'm all right now. May I sit up, please?”
”You may lie up, if you like,” Casey replied. ”Let me put some pillows under you. You've had a bad shake-up, old girl.”
”Beaver Boy fell,” she explained, ”and threw me. I must have struck my head. I don't know how I caught him again. I don't remember very clearly. I had to hang on to the horn sometimes--dizzy, you know. I never had to pull leather before. He was afraid of the lightning, and I wasn't strong enough to handle him afterward. The fall took it out of me. I just had to let him go. He knew it, and acted mean. I'll show him whose horse he is next time.”
”You rode on your nerve,” said Casey. ”Tell us all about it. Tell us about your father and Sandy. You were going to say something when you keeled over.”
The girl's keen face clouded. ”Oh, heavens! Casey, my head can't be right yet. I'd clean forgotten my own people. There's been nothing but trouble in bunches all day. The drivers ran away this morning, smashed the rig, threw father out, and broke his leg. This afternoon this man Gla.s.s, whom we all took for a harmless nuisance, arrested Sandy.”
”What?” Casey exclaimed.
”Yes, he did. Gla.s.s is a railway detective. He worked quietly, nosing around the ranches talking to everybody, while the other detective attracted all the attention. n.o.body suspected Gla.s.s. Who would? Anyway, he and another man arrested Sandy for blowing up the dam.”