Rancho Del Muerto and Other Stories of Adventure from В«OutingВ» by Various Authors

Various

Charles King

Charles King

Rancho Del Muerto / and Other Stories of Adventure from В«OutingВ» by Various Authors

RANCHO DEL MUERTO, By Charles King, Capt. U. S. Army

FIRST PART

NO denying it – there was something uncanny about the place at the very first glance. The paymaster admitted that to himself as his ambulance slowly drove in, and his escort of half a dozen troopers came clattering after. It was his first visit to the spot, and he shrugged his broad shoulders and murmured a word of caution to the silent clerk who sat beside him:

“I want you to keep eyes and ears open here, Staines. We’ve got to make a night of it. You remember that this is where Sergeant Dinsmore was murdered, and I’ve heard nothing but bad accounts of the people for the last six months.”

Mr. Staines was apparently a man who wasted no words. Acquiescence with him may have been expressed by silence. At all events he made no reply.

“Were you ever at the ranch before, when you made the trips with Colonel Forte?” asked the paymaster.

“No, sir, it’s – all strange to me hereabouts.”

“How far are we from Canyon del Muerto now, sergeant?” asked the officer of the bearded trooper who rode close alongside.

“Sixteen miles, sir, on a bee line, but at least twenty by the road. We’re off the direct trail now. We could have got through the canyon and reached the camp before this if that mule hadn’t gone lame.”

“Major,” said Staines in a low tone, “I can get a saddle horse or mule here, no doubt. Had I not better ride right on? I can reach Captain Rawlins’ camp by 9 or 10 o’clock. He will be mighty anxious at your non-arrival.”

“I was thinking of sending one man ahead; I don’t like to let you go. It will wear you out for to-morrow’s work.”

“Indeed it won’t, sir; I’m feeling fresh enough, and the change from wagon to saddle will just suit me. I think I’d better go.” And there was an eager look in Staines’ clear-cut face.

“I’ll think about it” was the dubious answer. “These cavalry men are the proper ones to send, not a paymaster’s clerk. If anything befell you on the route I would be crippled in making payments.”

“Nothing would be apt to befall me, sir; I know that road well.”

“I thought you said all was strange to you hereabouts” said the paymaster quickly. But the clerk showed no discomfiture.

“I said here, around the ranch. The direct road lies off there nearly nine miles to the southwest, sir. That is the one we always took going to Tucson.”

The paymaster relapsed into silence. It is all very well to have subordinates who know far more than does the senior officer, yet the latter does not always find it agreeable. His own clerk having resigned some six months previous and returned to the East, when Major Sherrick was ordered from San Francisco to Arizona he had employed Mr. Staines at the urgent request of the officer whom he relieved. Staines had property interests in the Territory, he was told, and wanted to remain. He was a man profoundly versed in his duties; accurate, temperate, reliable and of unimpeachable character, said his recommenders. Sherrick was glad to get him, for he himself had no head for figures, and had been made a paymaster from civil life simply because his uncle the Senator found him a failure in every other capacity, and demanded the appointment of an Executive who could not deny him, though he felt like kicking himself when he looked at the long list of grizzled, war-tried captains who were wistful applicants for the longed-for promotion.

A tall Mexican stepped forward with much urbanity and grace of manner to assist the paymaster to alight as the ambulance stopped in front of the ranch, and Major Sherrick looked with emotions of surprise upon Pedro Ruiz, the proprietor.

“You don’t mean to say that’s the scoundrel we heard so much bad talk about at headquarters?