The trend of the current there was back in the direction of the bank she had but just quitted, yet so strong was her determination to succeed for Billy Byrne's sake that she turned her face toward the opposite shore and fought to reach the seemingly impossible goal which love had set for her.Again and again she was swept under by the force of the current.
Again and again she rose and battled, not for her own life; but for the life of the man she once had loathed and whom she later had come to love.Inch by inch she won toward the shore of her desire, and inch by inch of her progress she felt her strength failing.Could she win? Ah! if she were but a man, and with the thought came another: Thank God that I am a woman with a woman's love which gives strength to drive me into the clutches of death for his sake!
Her heart thundered in tumultuous protest against the strain of her panting lungs.Her limbs felt cold and numb; but she could not give up even though she was now convinced that she had thrown her life away uselessly.They would find her body; but no one would ever guess what had driven her to her death.Not even he would know that it was for his sake.
And then she felt the tugging of the channel current suddenly lessen, an eddy carried her gently inshore, her feet touched the sand and gravel of the bottom.
Gasping for breath, staggering, stumbling, she reeled on a few paces and then slipped down clutching at the river's bank.
Here the water was shallow, and here she lay until her strength returned.Then she urged herself up and onward, climbed to the top of the bank with success at last within reach.
To find the horses now required but a few minutes' search.
They stood huddled in a black mass close to the barbed-wire fence at the extremity of the pasture.As she approached them they commenced to separate slowly, edging away while they faced her in curiosity.Softly she called: "Brazos! Come, Brazos!" until a unit of the moving mass detached itself and came toward her, nickering.
"Good Brazos!" she cooed."That's a good pony," and walked forward to meet him.
The animal let her reach up and stroke his forehead, while he muzzled about her for the expected tidbit.Gently she worked the hackamore over his nose and above his ears, and when it was safely in place she breathed a deep sigh of relief and throwing her arms about his neck pressed her cheek to his.
"You dear old Brazos," she whispered.
The horse stood quietly while the girl wriggled herself to his back, and then at a word and a touch from her heels moved off at a walk in the direction of the ford.The crossing this time was one of infinite ease, for Barbara let the rope lie loose and Brazos take his own way.
Through the willows upon the opposite bank he shouldered his path, across the meadow still at a walk, lest they arouse attention, and through a gate which led directly from the meadow into the ranchyard.Here she tied him to the outside of the corral, while she went in search of saddle and bridle.
Whose she took she did not know, nor care, but that the saddle was enormously heavy she was perfectly aware long before she had dragged it halfway to where Brazos stood.
Three times she essayed to lift it to his back before she succeeded in accomplishing the Herculean task, and had it been any other horse upon the ranch than Brazos the thing could never have been done; but the kindly little pony stood in statuesque resignation while the heavy Mexican tree was banged and thumped against his legs and ribs, until a lucky swing carried it to his wethers.
Saddled and bridled Barbara led him to the rear of the building and thus, by a roundabout way, to the back of the office building.Here she could see a light in the room in which Billy was confined, and after dropping the bridle reins to the ground she made her way to the front of the structure.
Creeping stealthily to the porch she peered in at the window.
Eddie was stretched out in cramped though seeming luxury in an office chair.His feet were cocked up on the desk before him.In his lap lay his six-shooter ready for any emergency.Another reposed in its holster at his belt.
Barbara tiptoed to the door.Holding her breath she turned the knob gently.The door swung open without a sound, and an instant later she stood within the room.Again her eyes were fixed upon Eddie Shorter.She saw his nerveless fingers relax their hold upon the grip of his revolver.She saw the weapon slip farther down into his lap.He did not move, other than to the deep and regular breathing of profound slumber.
Barbara crossed the room to his side.
Behind the ranchhouse three figures crept forward in the shadows.Behind them a matter of a hundred yards stood a little clump of horses and with them were the figures of more men.These waited in silence.The other three crept toward the house.It was such a ranchhouse as you might find by the scores or hundreds throughout Texas.Grayson, evidently, or some other Texan, had designed it.There was nothing Mexican about it, nor anything beautiful.It stood two storied, verandaed and hideous, a blot upon the soil of picturesque Mexico.
To the roof of the veranda clambered the three prowlers, and across it to an open window.The window belonged to the bedroom of Miss Barbara Harding.Here they paused and listened, then two of them entered the room.They were gone for but a few minutes.When they emerged they showed evidences, by their gestures to the third man who had awaited outside, of disgust and disappointment.
Cautiously they descended as they had come and made their way back to those other men who had remained with the horses.Here there ensued a low-toned conference, and while it progressed Barbara Harding reached forth a steady hand which belied the terror in her soul and plucked the revolver from Eddie Shorter's lap.Eddie slept on.
Again on tiptoe the girl recrossed the office to the locked door leading into the back room.The key was in the lock.
