Half a mile from the Isbel ranch the cavalcade passed the log cabin of Evarts, father of the boy who had tended sheep with Bernardino.
It suited Gaston Isbel to halt here. No need to call! Evarts and his son appeared so quickly as to convince observers that they had been watching.
"Howdy, Jake!" said Isbel. "I'm wantin' a word with y'u alone."
"Shore, boss, git down an' come in," replied Evarts.
Isbel led him aside, and said something forcible that Jean divined from the very gesture which accompanied it. His father was telling Evarts that he was not to join in the Isbel-Jorth war. Evarts had worked for the Isbels a long time, and his faithfulness, along with something stronger and darker, showed in his rugged face as he stubbornly opposed Isbel. The old man raised his voice: "No, I tell you. An' that settles it."
They returned to the horses, and, before mounting, Isbel, as if he remembered something, directed his somber gaze on young Evarts.
"Son, did you bury Bernardino?"
"Dad an' me went over yestiddy," replied the lad. "I shore was glad the coyotes hadn't been round."
"How aboot the sheep?"
"I left them there. I was goin' to stay, but bein' all alone--I got skeered. . . . The sheep was doin' fine. Good water an' some grass.
An' this ain't time fer varmints to hang round."
"Jake, keep your eye on that flock," returned Isbel. "An' if I shouldn't happen to come back y'u can call them sheep yours. . . .
I'd like your boy to ride up to the village. Not with us, so anybody would see him. But afterward. We'll be at Abel Meeker's."
Again Jean was confronted with an uneasy premonition as to some idea or plan his father had not shared with his followers. When the cavalcade started on again Jean rode to his father's side and asked him why he had wanted the Evarts boy to come to Grass Valley. And the old man replied that, as the boy could run to and fro in the village without danger, he might be useful in reporting what was going on at Greaves's store, where undoubtedly the Jorth gang would hold forth.
This appeared reasonable enough, therefore Jean smothered the objection he had meant to make.
The valley road was deserted. When, a mile farther on, the riders passed a group of cabins, just on the outskirts of the village, Jean's quick eye caught sight of curious and evidently frightened people trying to see while they avoided being seen. No doubt the whole settlement was in a state of suspense and terror. Not unlikely this dark, closely grouped band of horsemen appeared to them as Jorth's gang had looked to Jean. It was an orderly, trotting march that manifested neither hurry nor excitement. But any Western eye could have caught the singular aspect of such a group, as if the intent of the riders was a visible thing.
Soon they reached the outskirts of the village. Here their approach bad been watched for or had been already reported. Jean saw men, women, children peeping from behind cabins and from half-opened doors. Farther on Jean espied the dark figures of men, slipping out the back way through orchards and gardens and running north, toward the center of the village. Could these be friends of the Jorth crowd, on the way with warnings of the approach of the Isbels? Jean felt convinced of it.
He was learning that his father had not been absolutely correct in his estimation of the way Jorth and his followers were regarded by their neighbors. Not improbably there were really many villagers who, being more interested in sheep raising than in cattle, had an honest leaning toward the Jorths. Some, too, no doubt, had leanings that were dishonest in deed if not in sincerity.
Gaston Isbel led his clan straight down the middle of the wide road of Grass Valley until he reached a point opposite Abel Meeker's cabin.
Jean espied the same curiosity from behind Meeker's door and windows as had been shown all along the road. But presently, at Isbel's call, the door opened and a short, swarthy man appeared. He carried a rifle.
"Howdy, Gass!" he said. "What's the good word?"
"Wal, Abel, it's not good, but bad. An' it's shore started," replied Isbel. "I'm askin' y'u to let me have your cabin."
"You're welcome. I'll send the folks 'round to Jim's," returned Meeker.
"An' if y'u want me, I'm with y'u, Isbel."
"Thanks, Abel, but I'm not leadin' any more kin an' friends into this heah deal."
"Wal, jest as y'u say. But I'd like damn bad to jine with y'u. . . .
My brother Ted was shot last night."
"Ted! Is he daid?" ejaculated Isbel, blankly.
"We can't find out," replied Meeker. "Jim says thet Jeff Campbell said thet Ted went into Greaves's place last night. Greaves allus was friendly to Ted, but Greaves wasn't thar--"
"No, he shore wasn't," interrupted Isbel, with a dark smile, "an' he never will be there again."
Meeker nodded with slow comprehension and a shade crossed his face.
"Wal, Campbell claimed he'd heerd from some one who was thar. Anyway, the Jorths were drinkin' hard, an' they raised a row with Ted--same old sheep talkan' somebody shot him. Campbell said Ted was thrown out back, an' he was shore he wasn't killed."
"Ahuh! Wal, I'm sorry, Abel, your family had to lose in this. Maybe Ted's not bad hurt. I shore hope so. . . . An' y'u an' Jim keep out of the fight, anyway."
"All right, Isbel. But I reckon I'll give y'u a hunch. If this heah fight lasts long the whole damn Basin will be in it, on one side or t'other."
"Abe, you're talkin' sense," broke in Blaisdell. "An' that's why we're up heah for quick action."
"I heerd y'u got Daggs," whispered Meeker, as he peered all around.
"Wal, y'u heerd correct," drawled Blaisdell.
Meeker muttered strong words into his beard. "Say, was Daggs in thet Jorth outfit? "
"He WAS. But he walked right into Jean's forty-four. . . .
An' I reckon his carcass would show some more."
"An' whar's Guy Isbel?" demanded Meeker.
"Daid an' buried, Abel," repled Gaston Isbel. "An' now I'd be obliged if y'u 'll hurry your folks away, an' let us have your cabin an' corral.
Have yu got any hay for the hosses?"
"Shore. The barn's half full," replied Meeker, as he turned away.