Chapter 42

The Stage Driver's Story.

"Well," said the driver, as he set his long-lashed whip into its socket, and gathered up his reins in his left hand, in order to afford him an opportunity to declaim more freely with his right, "you must know that I've been drivin' on this line more than two years, and consequently I know every inch of the route like a book. I must own, though, that I didn't know quite as much at the time I speak of. The driver whose place I took when I came on to the road, had been pretty badly used up in a scrimmage with the bandits about a week before, and I didn't like the prospects, you may be sure; but as I was out of a job, I took this, and I made up my mind when I I commenced, never to put my head in the way of a robber's bullet, if I could help it."

"That's the case with most of you, isn't it?" said Manning, good-naturedly.

"What makes you think so?" inquired the driver, quizzically.

"Why, the ease and success with which stage coaches have usually been robbed," was the reply.

"Well, I'll tell you," he answered, good-humoredly, and not the least disturbed by Manning's quiet reflection on the bravery of stage drivers in general. "When a fellow has to manage four tolerably skittish horses with both hands full of leather, he haint much time to fool around huntin' shootin' irons, 'specially when he's got to look down into the muzzle of a repeater which is likely to go off and hurt somebody."

"Do you think these stage robbers, as a rule, are disposed to kill anybody?" asked Manning.

"Why, sir," answered the driver, "they would just as soon kill a stage driver as eat their breakfast, and they know how to handle a rifle, too, let me tell you."

"There's something in that reasoning," replied Manning, laughingly. "But go on with your story."

"Well," continued the driver, "I had made several trips and had met with no trouble or accident, so I began to think the gang had gone away from these parts, and that there was no danger to be feared. However, I still carried a brace of good revolvers in a handy place, just to make sure I was safe; though, Lord bless you, I knew I couldn't get at them in time to do any good, if the robbers did attack us.

"Well, one morning--it was a cold, raw day in April--I left Billings with my coach full of people, most of whom were goin' through to Helena, although I only drove as far as Bozeman, just as I do now. I had nine passengers, all told, and among the number was an old ranchman named Kyle Barton, and his handsome daughter. I tell you, she was a stunner; her hair was as black as a crow, and her bright black eyes sparkled like diamonds. I knew 'em both pretty well, for the old man owned a ranch out near Bozeman, and was as fine a man as ever stood six feet in his boots. The young woman was a fiery little beauty, and as hard to manage as a three-year-old colt. The old man and his daughter had been on a trip to the East, and were now returning home again, after bein' away several months. Well, the young woman, as I have said, for all she was as pretty as a picture, had a devilish wicked look in her flashing black eyes, that made a fellow kind 'o wilt when she looked him square in the face.

"The young woman took her seat on the inside, while the old man, who was hardy and tough as a pine knot, took his place on the outside, right where you are sittin' now. It was pretty cold, and we had to bundle up pretty well, but the old man didn't mind it a bit. He smoked his pipe and passed his bottle--thankee', yes, sir, I don't care if I do--and we were enjoying of ourselves amazin'.

"We journeyed along all day," continued the driver, as he handed the bottle back, and wiped his lips with the sleeve of his coat, "and nothin' happened to hinder or delay us in the least. Instead of gittin' warmer as the day wore on, it kept gittin' a dern sight colder, until along about four o'clock in the afternoon, when it began to snow, and by early dark, it was hard at it, a regular December snow-storm, with a drivin' wind that cut our faces tremendous. This bothered us a good deal, for the snow being wet and sticky, would ball up on the horses' feet so that they could hardly stand, and we just poked along our way at a gait not a bit faster than a slow walk. We couldn't get along any faster, and it was no use a-beatin' the poor critters, for they was a-doin' all in their power, and a-strainin' every nerve to keep a-movin'.

"The old ranchman was a good-hearted, sociable old fellow, and he didn't seem to mind the storm a bit. As we plodded along he talked about his cattle ranch, the price of cattle, and what profit he had made that year. It was along after dinner, and we had both been strikin' the bottle pretty regular, although the cold was so great we could hardly feel it, when he fell to talkin' about himself and his daughter. We were the only two outside, and he became quite confidential like, and I pitied the old man, for he'd had a deal of trouble with the young spitfire inside.

"Among other things, he told me that she had almost broken his old heart lately by fallin' in love, or imaginin' she had, with one of his herdsmen, a handsome, dashing, devil-may-care sort of a fellow he had picked up at Bozeman and taken out to his ranch about a year before. When the old man found out that the gal was gone on the fellow, and that he was a-meetin' her after dark, he ups and discharges him instanter, and gives him a piece of his mind about his takin' a mean advantage of the confidence which had been placed in him.

"His daughter, Stella, as he called her, fought against his dischargin' of the young man, and had been sullen and ill-tempered ever since her lover left. He had caught them correspondin' with each other after that, and on one occasion he was certain they had a clandestine meetin'. On findin' out that his daughter was determined not to give up this worthless young cuss, the old man made up his mind to take her away, and he had accordin'ly packed up and gone on a long journey to the East, where he had stayed several months, and they were now just gettin' back to their home again. The old man had hoped that absence from her lover and meetin' with other people in different scenes, would induce her to forget her old passion, and to realize the folly she had committed in seekin' to marry such a worthless fellow against her father's wishes."

"I don't see what this has got to do with the bandits, though," now said the detective, who was getting a little anxious to find out what all this was leading to.

"I was afraid it wouldn't interest you much," replied the driver; "but you'll soon see the point to my story and what this young girl had to do with it."

"I beg your pardon," said Manning, "I am interested in it, only I was anxious to hear where the bandits came in. Let's take a little drop of brandy, and I promise you I won't interrupt you again until you have finished."

Here he handed the flask over to the old man, who took it with the remark that it "looked for all the world like the one carried by the old ranchman," and after a hearty pull at it, passed it back again, and resumed his story.

"As the darkness increased, the old ranchman, who it seemed had heard of the recent robberies, began to grow a little nervous, although he didn't appear to be a dern bit scared. He looked carefully to the condition of his pistols, and also advised me to have mine handy in case of need; nothin' would satisfy him but I had to get mine out of the box, and after he had looked them all over, they were laid on the seat between us. Not content with this, he warned the inside passengers that there was danger to be apprehended, and that there were bandits on the road. He urged them to have their weapons in readiness, so that in case the robbers did come, we could give them a red-hot reception. The people inside caught the old man's spirit, and they all resolved that if an attack did come they would meet it like men. To tell the truth, I didn't fear any danger, and I thought the old man was excitin' everybody without cause; but I didn't say anything, cause it wouldn't do any harm anyhow, even if we were not molested.

"However, I had reckoned without my host, for just as we reached this place, and were a-turnin' around this bend in the road, two men sprang out from the bushes and grabbed the lead horses by the bits. Two more jumped out on one side of the coach, and two more on the other, while one man stepped up to me and demanded me to come down. Of course the coach was stopped, and just as the robber spoke to me, the old man reached over in front of me and fired. The robber fell at once without a sound. Barton then fired at the man at the horse's head nearest him, and brought him down. These shots were both fired as quick as a flash, but his aim had been unerring. 'Duck down, Davy, duck down,' he cried to me as he swung himself from the coach, and a volley of bullets passed over our heads.

"I followed his example, and in a hurry, too, and escaped unhurt. Just then we heard two reports from the passengers inside, and in less time that it has taken me to tell it the scrimmage was over and the robbers who were unhurt had fled, leaving three of their number on the ground, two of them seriously wounded, and the other one as dead as a post, with a bullet hole plum through his forehead.

"As soon as they could the passengers clambered out of the coach, and by the aid of our lanterns, we found the robbers as I have just told you. We all congratulated ourselves on our fortunate escape, and the old man was warmly commended for his forethought and for the gallant service he had rendered.

"I saw the old man did not seem disposed to say much, but I also noticed a look of grim satisfaction on his face as he looked down at the dead bandit. He then looked anxiously toward the coach, and seemed relieved to find that his daughter still remained inside.

"We bound up as well as we could the wounds of the other two, and lifted them to the top of the coach. When it came to the dead one, some of the passengers were in favor of lettin' him lie where he was, but others objected and wanted to take him along with us, as we did not have far to go."

"While we were discussin' the question, the young woman, who had got out of the coach while we were talkin', and without her father observin' her, caught sight of the bandit's face, as he lay on his back in the snow, and with a wild scream of anguish, she pushed the men aside and flung herself upon the lifeless body. Her sobs were terrible to hear, and many a strong man turned away to hide the tears that came to their eyes in spite of them. Her father approached her and tried to draw her away, but all to no use, until at length her strength gave out, and she fainted dead away.

"You see," continued the driver, "that dead man was her lover. He had been engaged in the business of robbin' stage coaches for a long time, and only hired with the old man as a cover to hide his real business, and to try and win the girl, whom he had frequently seen before.

"The old man was all broke up about the girl, but he was glad that things had happened as they did, and he felt sure that after her grief was over, she would not fail to see the danger she had escaped, and to thank her father for savin' her from a life of shame and disgrace.

"We lifted the girl into the coach, and put the dead man along with the others on the top. He had been the terror of the neighborhood, although no one knew, until this time, who had been the leader of this murderous gang. We buried him at Bozeman, and since that time we have had no trouble with anything like bandits or robbers along the route."

"What became of the other two?" asked the detective.

"They were put under arrest, but somehow they managed to escape before they were brought to trial, and that was the last we ever heard of them."

"And the girl," asked Manning, "what became of her?"

"Oh, she is all right now; as pert as a cricket, and prettier than ever," answered the driver. "She was married some time ago to a young fellow who is the sheriff of the county here, and is as happy as the day is long. You wouldn't know that she ever had an experience like this, and I don't believe she ever thinks of her bandit lover, while she hangs around her old father with all the affection of a child, and the old ranchman is as happy and contented a man as you will find in the whole county."

As the driver concluded his narrative, the stage rolled into Bozeman, and at sharp midnight they drew up before the door of the inn. The moon was still shining, and lights were flashing from the windows when they arrived. Tired and hungry, the passengers alighted, and after a light lunch, Manning procured a bed and retired to rest.