“Son, you'll have your belly full of trouble soon enough,” replied Steele. “Hold yourself in. Wait. Try to keep your eye on Sampson at night. See if anyone visits him. Spy on him. I'll watch Wright.”
“Don't you think you'd do well to keep out of town, especially when you sleep?”
“Sure. I've got blankets out in the brush, and I go there every night late and leave before daylight. But I keep a light burning in the 'dobe house and make it look as if I were there.”
“Good. That worried me. Now, what's this murder of Jim Hoden going to do to Morton, Zimmer, and their crowd?”
“Russ, they've all got blood in their eyes. This'll make them see red. I've only to say the word and we'll have all the backing we need.”
“Have you run into Blome?”
“Once. I was across the street. He came out of the Hope So with some of his gang. They lined up and watched me. But I went right on.”
“He's here looking for trouble, Steele.”
“Yes; and he'd have found it before this if I just knew his relation to Sampson and Wright.”
“Do you think Blome a dangerous man to meet?”
“Hardly. He's a genuine bad man, but for all that he's not much to be feared. If he were quietly keeping away from trouble, then that'd be different. Blome will probably die in his boots, thinking he's the worst man and the quickest one on the draw in the West.”
That was conclusive enough for me. The little shadow of worry that had haunted me in spite of my confidence vanished entirely.
“Russ, for the present help me do something for Jim Hoden's family,” went on Steele. “His wife's in bad shape. She's not a strong woman. There are a lot of kids, and you know Jim Hoden was poor. She told me her neighbors would keep shy of her now. They'd be afraid. Oh, it's tough! But we can put Jim away decently and help his family.”
Several days after this talk with Steele I took Miss Sampson and Sally out to see Jim Hoden's wife and children. I knew Steele would be there that afternoon, but I did not mention this fact to Miss Sampson. We rode down to the little adobe house which belonged to Mrs. Hoden's people, and where Steele and I had moved her and the children after Jim Hoden's funeral. The house was small, but comfortable, and the yard green and shady.
If this poor wife and mother had not been utterly forsaken by neighbors and friends it certainly appeared so, for to my knowledge no one besides Steele and me visited her. Miss Sampson had packed a big basket full of good things to eat, and I carried this in front of me on the pommel as we rode. We hitched our horses to the fence and went round to the back of the house. There was a little porch with a stone flooring, and here several children were playing. The door stood open. At my knock Mrs. Hoden bade me come in. Evidently Steele was not there, so I went in with the girls.
“Mrs. Hoden, I've brought Miss Sampson and her cousin to see you,” I said cheerfully.
The little room was not very light, there being only one window and the door; but Mrs. Hoden could be seen plainly enough as she lay, hollow-cheeked and haggard, on a bed. Once she had evidently been a woman of some comeliness. The ravages of trouble and grief were there to read in her worn face; it had not, however, any of the hard and bitter lines that had characterized her husband's.
I wondered, considering that Sampson had ruined Hoden, how Mrs. Hoden was going to regard the daughter of an enemy.
“So you're Roger Sampson's girl?” queried the woman, with her bright black eyes fixed on her visitor.
“Yes,” replied Miss Sampson, simply. “This is my cousin, Sally Langdon. We've come to nurse you, take care of the children, help you in any way you'll let us.”
There was a long silence.
“Well, you look a little like Sampson,” finally said Mrs. Hoden, “but you're not at all like him. You must take after your mother. Miss Sampson, I don't know if I can—if Iought to accept anything from you. Your father ruined my husband.”
“Yes, I know,” replied the girl sadly. “That's all the more reason you should let me help you. Pray don't refuse. It will—mean so much to me.”
If this poor, stricken woman had any resentment it speedily melted in the warmth and sweetness of Miss Sampson's manner. My idea was that the impression of Diane Sampson's beauty was always swiftly succeeded by that of her generosity and nobility. At any rate, she had started well with Mrs. Hoden, and no sooner had she begun to talk to the children than both they and the mother were won.
The opening of that big basket was an event. Poor, starved little beggars! I went out on the porch to get away from them. My feelings seemed too easily aroused. Hard indeed would it have gone with Jim Hoden's slayer if I could have laid my eyes on him then. However, Miss Sampson and Sally, after the nature of tender and practical girls, did not appear to take the sad situation to heart. The havoc had already been wrought in that household. The needs now were cheerfulness, kindness, help, action, and these the girls furnished with a spirit that did me good.
“Mrs. Hoden, who dressed this baby?” presently asked Miss Sampson. I peeped in to see a dilapidated youngster on her knees. That sight, if any other was needed, completed my full and splendid estimate of Diane Sampson.
“Mr. Steele,” replied Mrs. Hoden.
“Mr. Steele!” exclaimed Miss Sampson.
“Yes; he's taken care of us all since—since—” Mrs. Hoden choked.
“Oh, so you've had no help but his,” replied Miss Sampson hastily. “No women? Too bad! I'll send someone, Mrs. Hoden, and I'll come myself.”
“It'll be good of you,” went on the older woman. “You see, Jim had few friends—that is, right in town. And they've been afraid to help us—afraid they'd get what poor Jim—”
“That's awful!” burst out Miss Sampson passionately. “A brave lot of friends! Mrs. Hoden, don't you worry any more. We'll take care of you. Here, Sally help me. Whatever is the matter with baby's dress?” Manifestly Miss Sampson had some difficulty in subduing her emotion.
“Why, it's on hind side before,” declared Sally. “I guess Mr. Steele hasn't dressed many babies.”
“He did the best he could,” said Mrs. Hoden. “Lord only knows what would have become of us! He brought your cowboy, Russ, who's been very good too.”
“Mr. Steele, then is—is something more than a Ranger?” queried Miss Sampson, with a little break in her voice.
“He's more than I can tell,” replied Mrs. Hoden. “He buried Jim. He paid our debts. He fetched us here. He bought food for us. He cooked for us and fed us. He washed and dressed the baby. He sat with me the first two nights after Jim's death, when I thought I'd die myself.
“He's so kind, so gentle, so patient. He has kept me up just by being near. Sometimes I'd wake from a doze an', seeing him there, I'd know how false were all these tales Jim heard about him and believed at first. Why, he plays with the children just—just like any good man might. When he has the baby up I just can't believe he's a bloody gunman, as they say.
“He's good, but he isn't happy. He has such sad eyes. He looks far off sometimes when the children climb round him. They love him. I think he must have loved some woman. His life is sad. Nobody need tell me—he sees the good in things. Once he said somebody had to be a Ranger. Well, I say, thank God for a Ranger like him!”