Read Ebook: Buffalo Bill Entrapped; or A Close Call by Ingraham Prentiss

Font size: 10 px 15 px 20 px 25 px 30 px 35 px

Background color: BlackWhiteGrayLight GrayDark GrayDim Gray

Text color: BlackWhiteGrayLight GrayDark GrayDim Gray

Apply/Save settings

Ebook has 2661 lines and 86928 words, and 54 pages

"Then the villain who is responsible for this night's work has escaped."

"Do ye know him?"

He paused, and his eyes flashed ominously.

There was silence for a while, and then Angell said:

"It's mighty queer ter find you here, Buffalo. I didn't know you war in this yer neck o' woods. When did ye come, an' what's all this business about? War you visitin' Matt Holmes when ther cabin war sot afire?"

"I was, and I have a pretty long story to tell, Bart. Suppose we defer explanations until I get to your shack and have rested a bit."

"That proposition is shore all right," replied Angell. "Ye can't walk, but I'll tote ye along ther trail 'thout any trouble."

"There is no hurry, Bart. Before we leave, I want to make sure that Matt Holmes is dead."

"Ther galoot I laid out allowed ther war killin' done," said Angell, "an' so I reckon that Holmes war murdered. Whar'll I look fer him?"

"I saw him go out the front door and start for the brush."

"Then I'll shore do some projeckin' in ther brush."

Angell went away, and soon returned with the statement that he had found the dead body of the owner of the cabin. The murdered man had been discovered at the mouth of the ravine. He had been shot a number of times. One bullet had penetrated the brain.

Buffalo Bill sighed. "I would have prevented the murder if the fiend had not surprised us. I was shot just before Holmes made for the door."

As he spoke, the king of scouts noticed that Angell had his hand behind his back. "Found something, Bart?" he said quietly. "Trot it out."

Angell brought to view a white handkerchief. He had found it near the body of the murdered man.

The king of scouts took the handkerchief and examined it carefully.

In one corner was a Chinese laundry mark.

"I am not a detective, Bart," said Buffalo Bill, as he scrutinized the mark, "or I might trace this wipe to its owner."

"It would be a hard job"--with a shake of the head--"fer ther nearest chink joint is in Denver. Hold yer horses," he added suddenly. "I'm clean off my base. Thar's one in Taos. It shore opened up six months ago. I war in ther town when ther chink piked in from Austin. I'll bet a quirt ther rag came from Taos."

Buffalo Bill put the handkerchief into his breast pocket. "I'll try Taos if I don't make the riffle in these mountains. The evidence I want may be on the body of the man you killed. Go back again and search the pockets. Bring everything here."

Angell went away for the second time, and when he returned he brought a purse containing a few dollars in silver, a knife, a revolver, a plug of tobacco, and a match box with the initials "T. D." engraved upon an oval.

The king of scouts was disappointed. The match box was the only clew to the identity of the dead man, and even it might prove valueless. The initials might belong to somebody else. The box might have been found or stolen.

"Do you know any one whose name will fit these initials?" he asked.

"Lemme think," replied Angell, as he stroked his chin. "It's more'n likely that it stands fer Tom. As fer 'D'--jumpin' Jehosophat! Ther galoot is Tom Darke; Lanky Tom, that ther sheriff of Santa Fe was achin' ter catch when I war down that way three months ago. I seen ther bills describin' ther critter, an' thar's no mistook about it."

"I reckon you're right," returned Buffalo Bill quietly. "I remember the case. Darke was implicated in a dastardly murder. He was the tool, not the principal. Jared Holmes, a merchant of Santa Fe, was assassinated at his home. It was after dark, and he was sitting in front of an open window. A shot was fired from without, and the bullet entered his brain. A man answering the description of Tom Darke was seen running away from the house; there was other circumstantial evidence connecting him with the crime, and so the officers tried to overhaul him."

Bart Angell nodded. "Tom war a tinhorn gambler, and ther sheriff told me that, onct whilst how-come-ye-so, Tom let out ter a feller he war drinkin' with that he war workin' fer a boss that war shore comin' in fer all kinds of money."

Buffalo Bill's face was grave. "Do you know," he said, "that Jared Holmes was the brother of Matt Holmes, whose dead body lies out there in the brush? The motive that prompted the killing of Jared was the same that prompted the taking off of Matt. But I won't go into details now. Help me to get to your cabin, and after a while I'll talk more."

But there was no revelation that night. The king of scouts was in a fainting condition when Angell's cabin was reached. A second dressing to his wound was given, and he was put to bed. Next morning he awoke with mind clear and only a slight physical weakness.

Angell went outside, and presently appeared with a pick and shovel. Resting the implements against the wall, he said as he came forward to sit on a stool by Buffalo Bill's bunk: "Go ahead. You aire ther judge an' I'm ther sheriff."

"I was in Hayes City a few weeks ago," the king of scouts began, "and was figuring on going up to Laramie for a spell to look after my interests near the place, when an old army friend, Major Kent, met me and asked a service. A young woman, daughter of a West Point classmate, was in town, and it was her desire to proceed at once to the cabin of Matt Holmes, in these hills. The matter was important, and she needed a guide and protector. Would I act in that double capacity? I did not give an answer until I had taken a look at the young woman. Then I capitulated. I have seen many pretty women, Bart, but none prettier than Myra Wilton. And, best of all, she is as good as she is pretty. I would have been a brute if I had not consented to take charge of her and see her safely to her destination.

"Two days sufficed for preparations, and one fine morning, mounted on ponies, we set out across the plains for the mountains. It was not long before I had her full confidence. She told me something that both surprised and vexed me. She had journeyed from her home in Pennsylvania on the say-so of a letter written by a man who was an utter stranger to her. The letter was from Santa Fe, and was signed 'James Loftus,' and set forth that, as the attorney of Matt Holmes, her uncle, it was his duty to inform her that her uncle had but a few months to live. He had met with an accident while out hunting, and was now waiting for the end to come. His brother Jared was dead, and she was his only living relative. There was something of the utmost importance, relating to his possessions, which he desired to communicate to her. He dared not trust to the post, for he had an enemy who possessed satanic craft. Therefore, he asked that she come to him, and at once. She could find a guide in Hayes City. The journey was not a hard one, and he hoped to see her before a month had passed.

"I know all the law sharps in Santa Fe, or in the Territory, for that matter, and no one of them answers to the name of Loftus. The statement that Holmes had an enemy also made me regard the letter as shady. But I did not voice my suspicions for fear of alarming Miss Wilton. I would guide her to Holmes' place, and see to it that she met with no harm. I know now that I made a mistake. Better for her had we turned back and never attempted to cross the mountains."

"What! Did ye lose her?" queried Angell, with marked concern written on his homely face.

"Yes, I lost her," replied Buffalo Bill despondingly. "We were within half a mile of her uncle's cabin, and I had begun to think that my suspicions were groundless, when I heard shots coming from the direction of the cabin. I spurred on ahead, and did not look behind me until I was in sight of the cabin. Then I turned. Miss Wilton was not in sight. Supposing that she had failed to make good time and would soon show herself, I waited.

"Soon a shout from the cabin made me turn and face the door. There stood Matt Holmes, as well as ever. I had known him for years, and when he shouted, 'Look out, Cody, or they'll get you,' I ducked my head, and thus escaped a bullet fired from the brush.

"The next moment I was on the ground. I got to the cabin, and as soon as I entered, Holmes closed the door. 'My enemy has found me,' he explained, 'and we are goin' to have a picnic.'

"Hurriedly I informed him that his niece was outside, and that she had come in response to the instructions of a lying letter. The statement was no sooner made than we heard a woman's scream. I was about to dash for the door, when a bullet fired from behind--the back door must have been open--brought me to the floor. As I fell I heard other shots, saw Holmes rush out of doors, and then I fainted. I came to my senses to find the cabin on fire.

"How I got outside in time to prevent cremation I do not know. But I managed it somehow, and in the brush fainted again. I was opening my eyes when you came, Bart. Now you know all I have to tell. The enemy of Matt Holmes has won the first moves in the diabolical game he is playing. He has committed two murders, and he has carried off Myra Wilton."

"I shore hope he ar'n't aimin' to murder her," said Angell, with a white face.

"It is not likely," was the confident response. "He has other designs. She is too pretty to kill." As he spoke a frown came to his brow, and he bit his lip viciously. "Confound this wound of mine. I won't be able to get about and do business for hours."

"But yer humble sarvint ain't in ther same fix," responded Angell quickly. "I am shore on deck, an', what's more, I'm pinin' ter git on ther trail of ther pizen hounds that's moseyed off with ther gal."

"Good!" said the king of scouts, his face clearing instantly. "Start as soon as you like. I am able to look out for myself."

Ten minutes later Bart Angell was on the flat with pick and shovel. The duty of burial performed, he set out up the ravine which had brought Buffalo Bill and Myra Wilton to the flat.

He had been gone an hour when a tall man, with face covered by a black mask, stole up to the cabin that held the king of scouts.

Through the small window on the side, he peered in and saw Buffalo Bill propped up on the bunk and calmly smoking a pipe.

The door was open, and a few minutes later the man appeared in front of it. In his hand was a revolver, and the king of scouts looked up to gaze into the muzzle of the weapon.

A moment of silence followed:

Then Buffalo Bill spoke coolly: "Looks as if you had the drop."

The man with the mask emitted a soft chuckle. "Appearances in this case are not deceitful, William," he suavely replied. "I have the drop, and you are exactly where I want you."

With the words he stepped into the room, but did not close the door. Placing a stool on one side of the opening, he coolly sat down, his revolver the while still pointed at the head of the king of scouts.

Buffalo Bill went on smoking, and, though his face was pale, there was no sign of fear upon it.

Share on: WhatsApp @Hash Facebook Tweet