BOB BAINBRIDGE WAS ILL AT EASE OVER LEAVING Dixie behind, even though she was with her own father. The man was a poor father at best, or he never would have gotten mixed up with the Plummer bunch. He would protect her as best he could, but could he do anything against such a man as Three Finger Smith? As he rode he fully made up his mind that he would look after Mrs. Ford, then, on his way back to Oro Fino, he would take Dixie with him and they would be married. She couldn't be in any worse position married to him than where she was. It would only take a few days to finish his duties in Lewiston.
It was almost noon when Bob, dead tired, rode into Lewiston. His leg pained him dreadfully. He was in such misery that he paid little heed to the people or the buildings along the street until he drew near the old Ford place. Then he suddenly received the shock of a lifetime. The Ford saloon building was in ashes.
"My God!" he uttered despairingly, at thought of what it meant to Mrs. Ford.
The moisture in his mouth had dried at its source. He tried to wet his hot lips. Then his dismay turned to anger, then red hatred.
"God give me strength to kill every man who had a hand in this! I'll follow the leaders of the Plummer Gang to the ends of the earth but what I get them!"
In the moment of terrible shock all his well-made plans of hunting Beechy to go with him to Mrs. Ford's left him. He headed straight for her house. In spite of the excruciating pain in his leg he dismounted and staggered toward the door. His lips were feverish and his face was flushed. For an instant he leaned against the doorframe for support.
"Why, Mr. Bainbridge!" gasped Mrs. Ford as she opened the door. "What on earth has happened? You are sick! Clara, run over and tell Mr. Beechy to come right over. Hurry, now!" Little Clara was off on the run. "Let me help you to the cot," she insisted, catching hold of him.
"I'm all right," he protested. "Don't mind me. You have enough troubles of your own." In spite of his remonstrance she gently forced him to lie down on the cot in the front room. He looked up at her pityingly. "I see the Gang's done for you, Mrs. Ford. I didn't think they'd stoop to do a thing like that to a widow."
"Please don't talk about it now," she answered, as though mention of it would tear her heart out. "Besides, I know all about what happened. Mr. Magruder came down last week bringing the news. Mr. Beechy was just planning to send a searching party for you. Here he is now."
Beechy came up to the bed with outstretched hand. "It's good to see you, Bainbridge. I had a party ready to go out in search of you. What happened to you? Magruder said you started out several days before he left."
"Got into a shooting scrape with bandits near the shebang. Got shot in the leg. That's what's hurting me now. Wasn't entirely healed, and the ride must have opened it up."
"What did you do?" Beechy continued. "Who took care of you?"
A queer modesty kept him from telling the real truth to his friends. He couldn't bring Dixie into this. "A stranger picked me up and hid me out--took care of my leg until we were finally discovered and I had to leave before I should."
"But who...?" began Beechy.
Mrs. Ford interrupted. "You can hear the rest of the story later, please. The man is suffering. Will you gather some wild sage? I'll make some strong hot sage tea to bathe his leg. That will take the inflammation out."
Bob looked up. "First, Mr. Beechy, will you unpack the mule and put my horse up? There's some dust in the pack for Mrs. Ford."
"Now don't you worry, young man," said Beechy. "We'll take care of you, and someone is going to pay for what has happened to us here."
Mrs. Ford sat on the floor and began taking off the old bandage. He could see that she was almost in tears. Little Clara came close to peek over her mother's shoulder at the injured leg.
"Clara, run and get mamma some of those clean cloths in the cupboard, then see that there is plenty of fire in the stove and water in the kettle."
"Oh, it doesn't amount to much, Mrs. Ford," Bob belittled. "I'll be out of here in a few days. I believe I'll have Mr. Beechy help me over to the hotel. I don't want to clutter up things around here and be an extra burden to you."
"Folderol!" she exploded. "Do you think I'd let you do that? No one is going to take care of you but me. You were Patrick's best friend, and you are not going to be a burden to anyone. You'll be all right one of these days, just as you say."
But it was fourteen days before he began to feel like himself again. During that time Mrs. Ford was more than a mother to him. Beechy took care of Star Face, and saw to it that Mrs. Ford got all the help she needed.
It was indeed a divine blessing that Mrs. Ford had the responsibility of caring for Bob, for one's burdens are always made lighter by helping to carry the burden of someone else. She began to dread the day when Bob would leave again.
One evening in the latter part of August Bob was sitting in the rocker watching the purple shadows deepen and the mists of night obliterate the cool blue of the distant Bitterroot Mountains. His leg was healed and he was growing more and more restless. He knew that as long as Three Finger Smith and Plummer lived, there would always be murder and robbery of honest citizens. Then too, he was worried about Dixie. His mind switched to Shorty. Anything could have happened to him. He hadn't had a word from him since he left Oro Fino.
He called Mrs. Ford. In obedience to his summons she came and sat down on the doorstep beside him.
"What is it, Bob?" she asked gently.
"I'm about well again now, and I will be riding soon. There are things I must talk to you about, even though it is hard."
Mrs. Ford's face paled. "Don't be in a hurry, Bob. It can wait."
"No, I've made up my mind. There are things that need my attention. Before I go I must see that you are taken care of. I promised Pat."
The tears started to the little woman's eyes, and he couldn't help feeling sorry for her as she sat there so small and helpless.
"It was Pat's wish," he forced himself to continue, "that you go back to California. He sent that gold I brought in for that purpose."
She brushed the tears from her cheeks with the corner of her checkered apron. "You are wonderful, Bob, but I can't accept the gold. I know what happened. Pat gave you that property at Oro Fino and you sold a half interest in it. The money was to be used to carry on your fight to help build the empire. Magruder told me all about it."
Bob flared up angrily. "How in hell did Magruder know what happened? He's crazy! Pat and I were alone when he told me what to do. Why, he was right in these arms when he cashed in. I know what I'm talking about!"
"But, Bob," she shook her head, "I've decided not to go away. We learned last week that Congress has a bill up considering the creation of the Territory of Idaho."
"Idaho?"
"Yes. The name was given it by an Indian scout and was taken from the Indian word 'Ee-dah-how', meaning 'Light on the Mountain'. Well, that bill will pass this winter some time. Think of it, Bob, my husband's dream of a great northwestern empire will soon be realized!"
Bob smiled at her, thrilling with her enthusiasm. "He always said it would come. But what will you do?"
"Oh, I'm going to have a wonderful job. You've noticed that log house going up over there? Mr. Beechy and some of the men are building it for a schoolhouse. There are already two or three children here besides Clara, and they want me to teach school. Why shouldn't I have a hand in the building of my Patrick's empire? I'm sure he'd want me to."
"I believe he would," Bob admitted. "You must accept the dust, though. Anyway, I don't need it. Haven't the least use for it in the world." He couldn't let her know his own predicament; how near to dire need he actually was.
While they were talking Beechy rode up. Bob knew from his nervous manner that something was on his mind.
"Hello, folks," he greeted, squatting against the house. "I've great news! Gold has been struck in what they call Boise Basin!"
"Where's Boise Basin?" Bob was interested.
"South of Elk City about three hundred miles. Fellow by the name of Grimes discovered it. They say the country is lousy with it. Grimes was killed; but his men came into Walla Walla a few days ago, and are organizing a company of fifty men. They'll likely go through here tomorrow."
The news, added to Bob's already restless desire to be up and riding, decided him. While he was not especially anxious at present to make a rush for gold claims, he knew that Plummer and his gang would be among the first to take the trail. His hatred for the leaders of the gang that had been the cause of the death of his sister and his best friend was uppermost in his mind. He would never rest until they were wiped out.
He straightened in his chair and gazed a moment intently at Mrs. Ford, who, feeling his gaze, looked up at him.
"And you will go?" she asked softly.
"I expect, Mrs. Ford. I've leaned on you about long enough," he added.
"I'm sorry you said that, Bob, for you have been a blessing to me. But if you must go you will. You'd never be contented now that the call has come from new fields. I understand."
Beechy was speaking again, not seeming to notice the drama going on beside him.
"You never laid eyes on such nuggets as they've been showing! By cracky, if it wasn't for my business' I'd pack up and trail along."
"Tell you what, Beechy," Bob interrupted, "I'll drift along, and if I strike it rich, I'll stake you and Mrs. Ford a claim."
"Bully for you, Bob!" Beechy piped up excitedly. "That reminds me. I've got other news you'll be interested in. Six new members of the Vigilantes, when they heard of how you were shot up, started out about two hours ago to clean out the shebang." Bob looked at him incredulously. "There'll be a real fight and they won't leave a living soul of that gang to tell what happened!"
"My God, man! Not--the shebang?" Bob was white. "And you didn't tell me!" He felt as though he had been struck a blow in the heart that rendered him immovable. Then the use of his body came in a rush. He sprang to his feet with a cry. "Fix me a snack to take with me, Clara. I'm riding!"
Beechy's jaw dropped; he scratched his head, trying to make out the meaning of Bob's brainstorm. Bob had leaped the pole fence on his run for the stable and his horse before Beechy could interfere.
"What to hell do you suppose has got into him?" he exclaimed.
"I'm afraid you made a mistake. I always knew there was something he was keeping back, and I think it is a woman!"