Defiance Valley: The Complete Northwoods Stories of Frederick Nebel, Volume 1 (The Frederick Nebel Library) by Frederick Nebel

Author:Frederick Nebel [Nebel, Frederick]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Northwest
Publisher: Altus Press
Published: 2015-06-29T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER XVII

Victory!

“LEE,” said Quinlin to the constable, “it fits in with your story. Hard man, Jackson, and he’s just died hard. Twelve wounds.”

He turned back to Rose.

“But, my dear girl, why didn’t you reveal all this at first?”

“I couldn’t. I didn’t dare. Long Jim warned me on the trail when he brought you into my camp. He said I was to say nothing—said I should remember Marie was a pawn in The Master’s hand and her fate rested on my silence.

“It was hard to give in to the killer of my father. But there was Marie. I tried to be patient, resolving that some day he and La Bau would pay. And I knew that some day La Bau would want me. He was just holding off, playing with me like a cat. You—you can’t imagine….!”

“I can,” murmured Quinlin in a hushed voice; and then he turned on La Bau. “You heard all of that, La Bau. God help you at the hands of a jury! And Long Jim didn’t find the money—eh?—after killing old Tobin.”

“Evidently, no,” purred La Bau. “There is, Sergeant, no blood on my hands. I did not order Long Jim to kill Tobin. I—”

A horrible snarl rattled from the Indian’s throat. He whirled on The Master, and, though manacled, clamped his grotesque hands around La Bau’s throat and bore him back against the floor.

“Lie!” he roared. “You tell me kill Tobin if him show fight.”

Quinlin and Carlin flung themselves upon the Indian and tried to tear him loose. But Long Jim was raving mad, and the blows they struck seemed only to increase his fury. Finally his effort slowed down and at last he sank down on The Master with a chilling rattle in his throat.

Quinlin rolled him off and found a knife sticking in his chest. The hilt was still grasped in La Bau’s dead hand. He had pressed it up into the Indian even while the latter was choking him to death.

“Well,” mused Quinlin, “so Long Jim killed Tobin. It took us an awful long time to find it out.”

“It was kinder roundabout,” put in Jerry. “But then it led t’ the findin’ o’ Defiance Valley. Pat, they ought t’ make you ’n inspector f’r this haul. Bellamy, here, is still alive, an’ we’ll see he stays that way. It’ll make a better case in court if you got at least one o’ the ringleaders.”

WHEN they drove back into Defiance Valley a day later the place was deserted. The cabin doors swung open in the wind and the cabins themselves were empty and bare. The big trade house had been cleaned of everything but the stove and the rough furniture.

Trails led away in all directions, made by those who had fled the country and taken with them as much as they could carry. Not even a dog remained.

Defiance Valley was dead. The Master was dead. Long Jim and many others were dead. And so was Hell-bent Jackson, who died fighting for a woman who once had nursed him through the scurvy.

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