Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 672 — page 2: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

a 2 the West, for the true ‘‘ border ruffian,” and gamblers, thieves and bummers abound here in profusion. The adjacent mines yield well, while a big revenue comes from the cattle-ranches of the near valleys and foot-hills. For six months antedating this record of events, the ranchmen had been losing horses and cattle, until it became, for them, an alarming state of affairs. No ps to the thieves could be secured, although strenuous efforts were made to run them down. That it was a well-organized gang no one doubted, but where they dis- posed of their plunder was a mystery. A Vigilance Committee finally was formed; private detectives were brought from Denver and the East, but all to no use; nothing could be discovered of the depredators. Suspicion, however, at lehgth fastened on a woman, or rather, a girl, whose real name was Bella Brennan, but who was known as Calamity Jane, Junior, as she possessed many of the personal characteristics of that once wonderful woman of the West. She dressed like her original, and looked like her, She could ride like a Comanche, could play the sport, and was reckless and fearless at all times, and dangerous when her anger or hate was aroused. This remarkable young woman lived with her aged father, on the outskirts of the town, in a shanty that once had been partially de- stroyed by fire. When the two first came to Durango they were poverty poor; they had no visible means of. support, except the few dollars Calamity picked up at the gaming-table. The father was an invalid, yet, after a few months’ residence there, the girl wore dia- monds, and carried a big roll of money, which she took pride in Diplavhis at every opportunity. _ “Where did she get it?” was the general inguiry. he spent it freely, yet she was never ** broke,” . j She had been known to sit at a faro table, and come off five hundred dollars loser, yet treated the loss as nothing. When questioned as to where she got her money, she would ie gf ** None o your business. I got it, and that is enough.’ Suspicion, therefore, against her grew stronger and stronger. Jim Jackson, the sheriff, finally informed her of these suspicions, adding: “Calamity, I’d advise you to own up to the truth, and trust to the leniency of the eople for mercy,” advice at which she aughed., “What care I for the people, or their opinions,” she said. ‘‘ Let them mind their own business, and I will mine.” The bubble began to boil harder. A number of citizens congregated in the White Elephant Saloon, to discuss the situa- tion. **T bilieve her to be guilty,” declared Mayor Mike Murphy. : **So do I,” assented Wesley Wyndham, 4 ranch-owner. ‘Some action must be taken,” ‘But, what?” ** String her up!” ‘‘ But, we have no positive proof against her.” ‘“What of that? We've got our opinions to back us. She’s a sport, anyhow, and the community would be better without her, I suspect.” : his man Wyndham was one of the richest dwellers around Durango. Besides his ex- tensive cattle-range, he owned stock in sev- eral mines, and other enterprises, and. had a handsome stone residence in the town. He was haughty and conceited, and was not generally popular. The confab in the White Elephant did not Deadwood Dick, Jr., in Durango, result in the formation of any definite plan of action. It was resolved to let the matter simmer awhile, and see how things would shape. Calamity was not to be molested, but a sur- veillance was to be kept on her every move- ment, A week passed by, with no further cepre- dations by the cattle-thieves, Nor was Calamity detected in any suspi- cious circumstances or act. She roamed about as freely as ever, and spent her money liberally or recklessly. Bella Brennan was a handsome girl, with & faultless form, and eyes dark and flashing. She had suitors by the score, but showed no preference to any of them until Ned Brandon struck the town. It was even reported that she could have made such an eligidle match as Wesley Wyndham had she wished; but she decidedly gave him the ‘‘cold shoulder,” and incurred nis enmity thereby. Ned Brandon was a tramp printer, and when he struck Durango, was in pretty bad shape. His boots were worn out, his clothes were ragged, and his hat was a wreck, But, he was a stalwart, handsome young fellow of twenty-four, with a round, smooth, intelligent face, blue eyes, and sunny hair. He had come to Durango, he announced, hoping to get a job on the local newspaper. Calamity at once took a notion to him, and made his acquaintance. ‘My name is Ned Brandon, and I am last from Leadville. Nearly all of the distance between here and there I have done on foot,” ‘‘Have you no money?” ‘No. Ihave been unfortunatein not get- ting work.” ‘‘Do you expect to get any here?” **T hope to.” ‘*But not in such togs?” Brandon smiled. ‘* They’re the best I've got,” he said. ‘That may be, but you won't be able to strike a job in such duds. Come with me. You're square, and I’]l fix you out.” Brandon always had been proud of his personal appearance, and it was humiliating now in the extreme, to be found clad like a beggar. “You are very kind!” he said, “but I should feel much humbled to accept such a favor, even from a friend!” ‘* Have no fears. Iam as much your friend as any one in Durango will be. Come with me.” He acquiesced and they repaired to a cloth- ing-store, where, at the expense of the girl sport, Ned Brandon was fitted out in a good business suit, together with proper furnish- ing goods. ed's gratitude knew no bounds, and he and Calamity became fast friends, He secured a good job, and, in a short time, was given an interest in the paper he was connected with, and, ere long, became one of the most popular young men in the town. During this time the cattle depredations developed into startling losses, and public opinion, with no apparent good reason therefor, more and more turned against ‘‘ the Brennan girl,” as she was generally termed. CHAPTER II. A CALL UPON BRENNAN. A GENERAL meeting was at length held, to determine what was to be done. The committee agreed that no time was to be lost. Action must be taken at once, Jim Jackson, the sheriff, volunteered to lead a gang to old Brennan’s shanty, and a posse was, accordingly, made up; that com- prised the worst element of the town. The party was formed very quietly, how- ever, and as quietly made for the objective point of their journey, at about the midnight hour. It was a beautiful night, the moon at its full, and all the stars alight with their torches; yet these lawless men, half.crazed with drink, were marching forward to com- mit a revolting crime, the avowed purpose being to hang a young and beautiful woman upon the mere suspicion of her being in — with the steer buccaneers, he home of the Brennans had once been a large shanty with two ‘‘L’s,” or wings. 30th of these had been so injured by fire as to be no longer habitable. The main portion of the building remained intact, with a veranda and a little yard in front. The place was once owned by an old miser named Spicer, who had been murdered for his money, and whose wraith was said to still haunt the premises. After his death, the place stood idle until the Brennans came along and appropriated it to their own use. The night being so pleasant, old Brennan still oceupied his easy-chair upon the veran- da, when the lynching-party approached, He was &@ man C.ose upon sixty years of age, with long hair and beard that was sil- very white. He had once been of superb strength and stature, but, unfortunately, now was a para- lytic and therefore utterly helpless. Who he was, or where he came from, more than that he claimed his name was Brennan, no one could ascertain. He was cold and repellent in manner, and yet polite in address, using good language, and to all intents, had once been a man of means and influence. When the Vigilantes reached the shanty, Jim Jackson opened the gate and advanced up the little graveled walk. “Hello, Brennan!”’ he saluted. “‘Good-evening, sir,’ returned Brennan. ‘A nice evening.” ** Be-utiful!” replied Jackson. ‘‘Just 4 lovely night for a picnic. Couldn’t wish fo a better. You're lookin’ well.” ‘** Perhaps; but appearances are very decep- tive. lam anything but that.” ‘** Paralysis no better, eh?” ‘No, and never will be. than you can guess.” *‘No doubt of it. I suppose you some- times wish that you were dead.” an have often thought I would be better Oo u 22 ‘‘Have you any special preference for the method in which you take your earthly de- parture?” Brennan looked startled. “* What do you mean?” he demanded, A new light began to dawn upon his mind. ‘“In God’s name, what do you mean?” he repeated, excitedly. ‘¢ Well,” said Jackson with a brutal laugh, ‘we knew of your desire to shuffle off into the bright future, and concluded that, as fellow-citizens, it was our duty to lend you any assistance in our power. Our appli- ances are not numerous, but we have a re- liable Taos lariat, and can ave you a choice between that and a 86-caliber Smith and Wesson! Now, which do you prefer.” ‘Good God! You do not mean to murder mec?” gasped Brennan. ‘‘ Not if you come to our terms.” ‘What are they?”’ ‘That you produce that gal of yours, or inform me where to find her. ‘“‘T cannot answer either question. She went off on horseback, early in the evening, as I sat dozing here. Where she went, ex- cept into Durango, I do not know.” ‘You lie, you old fossil! You know where she is this very moment!” ‘As God is my judge I donot, I never can keep track of her.” ‘‘That will do to tell the marines, but it don’t go down with us. That gal is a horse and cattle-thief, and we are goin’ to lynch her same as we're goin’ ter lynch you if ye don’t give her up.’ I suffer more <sycom