Evening Republican, Volume 16, Number 186, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 5 August 1912 — Olive's Prisoner [ARTICLE]

Olive's Prisoner

BY ROBERT H. BROWN

(Copyright, 1812, by Assoctat&d Literary PreaaJ The girl-standing In the doorway of the ranch bouse shaded her eyes with one hand and looking away saw nothing save the gredn expanse of grass broken here and there by a jagged fence rail. There were some maple trees about the house, but beyond the confines of the yard there was nothing but grass. There was no sound to break the stillness of the September afternoon except the long chirrup of Insects and the buzzing of bees among the flower beds. From the stables came the occasional stamp of hoofs. Olive Cole was all alone. Even the Chinese cook had muttered something about finding mushrooms in the far meadow, and flapped his way out of sight Olive strongly suspected that he was playing fantan at some rendezvous with several fellow countrymen from the other ranches. The men had talked about it \. She wished he had not gone this very afternoon when her parents had gone to Red Tree station and the place was deserted. It was the first time she had been left alone, but she was not afraid, for In the belt that clasped her trim waist was an efficient little revolver, An eagle soared like a speck In the blue heaven. Beneath hini a hawk circled. Then out of the silence came -the thud of hoofs on the turf and there dashed into view a horse and rider tearing out of the Red Tree trail. The horse scuffled to a standstill down at the gate to the corral, his rider slipped to the ground and darted Into the barns while the animal snuffed the air for a moment and then galloped madly past the house, turning to the right and vanishing down the trail to the hidden soring. “Oh dear!” cried Olive with a hand above her heart. She recognized this little scene la one of the grim tragedies of the west It had happened once before and she had never forgotten the sight as the cattlemen led the horsethief away to lynch him. Her hand dropoed to her side and her face stiffened Into a mask of Indifference as there came the sound of other hoofbeats and a dozen men drew rein at the gate. "Afternoon, Miss Olive," said the leader wiping his moist forehead. “Yore pa around?” “No—he’s gone to Red Tree, Mr. Hall.” “Any of the bovs here?” “All over on the range. Is there anything I can do for you?” The sheriff replaced his hat and glanced around at the determinedlooking men In his party. “The fact is "we’re after a chap that was riding a dark bay with a white nose. Ain’t seen any such party?” He lboked keenly at her from under his hat brim. “I saw a horse rush past here and turn down toward Hidden Spring,” said Olive. “Was there a man on him?” “No—not even a saddle.” “Was he a dark bay with a white nose?” "I couldn’t tell exactly—he went so fast. I am sure he was dark,” said the girl quietly. “Then what became of him?” demanded Hall, turning to his companions. “Must have slipped off at the crossroads and cut for the timber.” “We better divide up then. Half of you fellows go back and follow the other trail and the rest of us will go down to Hidden Spring. You might look through the stables before you go.” The sheriff rode away with six of his men and the others left their horses and tramped toward the stables. Olive followed them, her heart in her throat. She hoped the fugitive, whoever he was, might have hidden himself securely. Bhe despised cattle thieves, but she had a tender regard for human life —Indeed for life of any description and she would not have killed a Jack rabbit. As for her revolver. she carried it to frighten more than to wound. As the men searched the stables and the barns with the thoroughness of long practice, Olive quaked inwardly. It would be a clever man indeed who could have escaped their scrutiny. The horses in the stalls stamped nervously as the searchers peered around and even Olive’s cream colored pony snapped at her when she laid a caressing hand on Its nose. doing here,” declared Hank Holmes as they tramped out of the building. “What has he done?” asked Olive, finding her voice with difficulty. “Been rustling the Englishman’s cattle. Caught, him last night riding one of the one you saw, I guess, and he got away from ns! Slfck as a whistle—said he was the Englisher himself.” "Wasn't be?” Inquired Olive curiously. “Bluffing. • The Englisher ain’t ever here hut once and nobody except

Callahan, the boss, saw him. We took him to Callahan last night and, he said it was a fairy story—said he’d never seen the varmint before. Said the Englisher, Hayden’s his name, was smsll and dark and this chap’s big and light Looks like a Swede. Tell yore pa, will you. Miss Olive, he might come along this way after dark.” “I will tell himsaid Olive, smiling stiffly. She watched them ride away toward the timbered lands and she looked keenly in every direction before she returned to the barn. Then she stood In the doorway, with her back to the interior, and asked in a very shaky voice: “Are you there?” s “Yes,” said a muffled voice, and Olive turned to discover a man’s big frame emerging from the hay that filled her pony’s manger. “You are hurt!” she cried, for a little stream of blood was trickling down his hand. He wiped it away. One of those silly brutes prodded me with a pitchfork, ’’ he said carelessly. ‘Tm awfully obliged to you—because you did not betray my presence here. May I ask why you spared me?” He smiled down at her. Her quick glance noted that this was no ordinary cattle thief If he were tme at all. Neither was he a Swede. Big and blond and extremely goodloojcing, he' was dressed In rough gray flannels with brown leather riding boots. His fair bead was hatless and as be stood there looking down at her with that keen blue glance Olive was convinced that the sheriff and his posse had made a ridiculous mistake. "You are Mr. Hayden?” she asked. "I was until last night,” he smiled, “but these fellows have given me the lie so many times since then that I begin to doubt my own identity. Why, even my foreman, Callahan, swore to my face that I wasn’t myself!” "T never could bear that Callahan,” declared Olive emphatically. "I’ve seen him so many times in company with disreputable Mexicans from over the border that I’ve never thought him honest.” “You’ve hit it, exactly. I was trailing him last night after one of his excursions when the sheriff got hold of me. You see Callahan had told me all about It as soon as I arrived and I had reason to suspect the fellow. Well. I’m here to stay. If I can convince your neighbors of my Identity before they deal out what they call Justice!” "Suppose you retire to the upper loft and remain there until I talk with njy father. He’s perfectly reasonable and after the men get on Callahan’s trail they will see how matters stand,” suggested Olive. “I will take your advice." said Hayden rather reluctantly. ‘1 hate to run away, but If I want to fight another day I presume I better keep out of sight.” Olive waited until he had dlsap peared in the dim upper loft, and when the rustling of the hay had ceased and he had called down s cheery: “All right-o!.” she sped back to the house to await her father"! return. Presently the sheriff and his six men came riding back leading the bay hor«e. “What luck?” called Olive. “What you Bee!” growled Hall unamlably. “Saw your Chink and a half a dozen others with a gambling lay-out down at Hidden Spring. Broke that un. all right!” His grim face relaxed. “You didn’t hurt Wah Lee. d-ld vou?" she asked quickly, and as they laughed sb® added faintly: “Yon know father says he was the best cook we ever had." “He’s coming now—seems to be alive!" retorted Hall as they went on their way. Wah T-.ee was trotting quickly toward the house. He was walling to himself in a heart-broken sort of way. In one hand he carried his severed pigtail and k acute anguish was written on his flat yellow countenance. Olive comforted him with what words she could muster, hut nothing save communion with his gods and the burning of much Joss could assuage his mortification. Then came Olive’s parents. First exacting secrecy from them she told them the story. Mr. Oole shook his head In strong disapproval. “It doesn’t do to oppose the law. my dear,” he said before he went out to s he bam. When he returned there was another expression on his stern face. “Olive’s right—l believe it is Mr. Hayden, after all. TO go over and set the boys on Callahan’s trail." It was late at night when fifteen men rode pp to Cole’s ranch and announced that Bill Callahan had been caught They were quite ready to apologize to the big Englishman when he had been extricated from his perch in the loft “I owe my life to yon. Miss Olive.” he said to her later In the evening as -he took his departure “I am very glad,” she said, shyly withdrawing her hand from his. “So am I," he skid heartily. Weeks afterward he came to tell Olive that he owed bis life to her and he wanted to pay the debt And when Sheriff Hall received hfs wedding Invitation he mopped his brow and gasped. “Gosh, but that gal\ of Cole's came mighty nigh being an old maid, didn’t she?" . - : o And who had accompanied him that day nodded solemnly in the affirmative.