The Mysterious Rider

by Zane Grey

  CHAPTER XIX

  Jack Belllounds came riding down the valley trail. His horse was in alather of sweat. Both hair and blood showed on the long spurs this sonof a great pioneer used in his pleasure rides. He had never loveda horse.

  At a point where the trail met the brook there were thick willowpatches, with open, grassy spots between. As Belllounds reached thisplace a man stepped out of the willows and laid hold of the bridle. Thehorse shied and tried to plunge, but an iron arm held him.

  "Get down, Buster," ordered the man.

  It was Wade.

  Belllounds had given as sharp a start as his horse. He was sober, thoughthe heated red tinge of his face gave indication of a recent use of thebottle. That color quickly receded. Events of the last month had lefttraces of the hardening and lowering of Jack Belllounds's nature.

  "Wha-at?... Let go of that bridle!" he ejaculated.

  Wade held it fast, while he gazed up into the prominent eyes, where fearshone and struggled with intolerance and arrogance and quickening gleamsof thought.

  "You an' I have somethin' to talk over," said the hunter.

  Belllounds shrank from the low, cold, even voice, that evidentlyreminded him of the last time he had heard it.

  "No, we haven't," he declared, quickly. He seemed to gather assurancewith his spoken thought, and conscious fear left him. "Wade, you tookadvantage of me that day--when you made me swear things. I've changed mymind.... And as for that deal with the rustlers, I've got my story. It'sas good as yours. I've been waiting for you to tell my father. You'vegot some reason for not telling him. I've a hunch it's Collie. I'm on toyou, and I've got my nerve back. You can gamble I--"

  He had grown excited when Wade interrupted him.

  "Will you get off that horse?"

  "No, I won't," replied Belllounds, bluntly.

  With swift and powerful lunge Wade pulled Belllounds down, sliding himshoulders first into the grass. The released horse shied again and movedaway. Buster Jack raised himself upon his elbow, pale with rage andalarm. Wade kicked him, not with any particular violence.

  "Get up!" he ordered.

  The kick had brought out the rage in Belllounds at the expense of theamaze and alarm.

  "Did you kick _me?_" he shouted.

  "Buster, I was only handin' you a bunch of flowers--some columbines, asyour taste runs," replied Wade, contemptuously.

  "I'll--I'll--" returned Buster Jack, wildly, bursting for expression.His hand went to his gun.

  "Go ahead, Buster. Throw your gun on me. That'll save maybe a hell of alot of talk."

  It was then Jack Belllounds's face turned livid. Comprehension haddawned upon him.

  "You--you want me to fight you?" he queried, in hoarse accents.

  "I reckon that's what I meant."

  No affront, no insult, no blow could have affected Buster Jack as thatsudden knowledge.

  "Why--why--you're crazy! Me fight you--a gunman," he stammered. "No--no.It wouldn't be fair. Not an even break!... No, I'd have no chanceon earth!"

  "I'll give you first shot," went on Wade, in his strange, monotonousvoice.

  "Bah! You're lying to me," replied Belllounds, with pale grimace. "Youjust want me to get a gun in my hand--then you'll drop me, and claim aneven break."

  "No. I'm square. You saw me play square with your rustler pard. He was alifelong enemy of mine. An' a gun-fighter to boot!... Pull your gun an'let drive. I'll take my chances."

  Buster Jack's eyes dilated. He gasped huskily. He pulled his gun, butactually did not have strength or courage enough to raise it. His armshook so that the gun rattled against his chaps.

  "No nerve, hey? Not half a man!... Buster Jack, why don't you finishgame? Make up for your low-down tricks. At the last try to be worthy ofyour dad. In his day he was a real man.... Let him have the consolationthat you faced Hell-Bent Wade an' died in your boots!"

  "I--can't--fight you!" panted Belllounds. "I know now!... I saw youthrow a gun! It wouldn't be fair!"

  "But I'll make you fight me," returned Wade, in steely tones. "I'mgivin' you a chance to dig up a little manhood. Askin' you to meet meman to man! Handin' you a little the best of it to make the oddseven!... Once more, will you be game?"

  "Wade, I'll not fight--I'm going--" replied Belllounds, and he moved asif to turn.

  "Halt!..." Wade leaped at the white Belllounds. "If you run I'll break aleg for you--an' then I'll beat your miserable brains out!... Have youno sense? Can't you recognize what's comin'?... _I'm goin' to kill you,Buster Jack!_"

  "My God!" whispered the other, understanding fully at last.

  "Here's where you pay for your dirty work. The time comes to every man.You've a choice, not to live--for you'll never get away from Hell-BentWade--but to rise above yourself at last."

  "But what for? Why do you want to kill me? I never harmed you."

  "Columbine is my daughter!" replied the hunter.

  "Ah!" breathed Belllounds.

  "She loves Wils Moore, who's as white a man as you are black."

  Across the pallid, convulsed face of Belllounds spread a slow, dullcrimson.

  "Aha, Buster Jack! I struck home there," flashed Wade, his voice rising."That gives your eyes the ugly look.... I hate them lyin', bulgin' eyesof yours. An' when my time comes to shoot I'm goin' to put themboth out."

  "By Heaven! Wade, you'll have to kill me if you ever expect thatclub-foot Moore to get Collie!"

  "He'll get her," replied Wade, triumphantly. "Collie's with him now. Isent her. I told her to tell Wils how you tried to force her--"

  Belllounds began to shake all over. A torture of jealous hate and deadlyterror convulsed him.

  "Buster, did you ever think you'd get her kisses--as Wils's gettin'right now?" queried the hunter. "Good Lord! the conceit of some men!...Why, you poor, weak-minded, cowardly pet of a blinded old man--youconceited ass--you selfish an' spoiled boy!... Collie never had any usefor you. An' now she hates you."

  "It was you who made her!" yelled Belllounds, foaming at the mouth.

  "Sure," went on the deliberate voice, ringing with scorn. "An' only alittle while ago she called you a dog.... I reckon she meant a differentkind of a dog than the hounds over there. For to say they were like youwould be an insult to them.... Sure she hates you, an' I'll gamble rightnow she's got her arms around Wils's neck!"

  "----!" hissed Belllounds.

  "Well, you've got a gun in your hand," went on the taunting voice."Ahuh!... Have it your way. I'm warmin' up now, an' I'd like to tellyou ..."

  "Shut up!" interrupted the other, frantically. The blood in him wasrising to a fever heat. But fear still clamped him. He could not raisethe gun and he seemed in agony.

  "Your father knows you're a thief," declared Wade, with remorseless,deliberate intent. "I told him how I watched you--trailed you--an'learned the plot you hatched against Wils Moore.... Buster Jack bustedhimself at last, stealin' his own father's cattle.... I've seen someragin' men in my day, but Old Bill had them beaten. You've disgracedhim--broken his heart--embittered the end of his life.... An' he'd meanfor you what I mean now!"

  "He'd never--harm me!" gasped Buster Jack, shuddering.

  "He'd kill you--you white-livered pup!" cried Wade, with terrible force."Kill you before he'd let you go to worse dishonor!... An' I'm goin' tosave him stainin' his hands."

  "I'll kill _you!_" burst out Belllounds, ending in a shriek. But thiswas not the temper that always produced heedless action in him. It washate. He could not raise the gun. His intelligence still dominated hiswill. Yet fury had mitigated his terror.

  "You'll be doin' me a service, Buster.... But you're mighty slow atstartin'. I reckon I'll have to play my last trump to make you fight.Oh, by God! I can tell you!... Belllounds, there're dead men callin' menow. Callin' me not to murder you in cold blood! I killed one manonce--a man who wouldn't fight--an innocent man! I killed him with mybare hands, an' if I tell you my story--an' how I killed him--an' thatI'll do the same for you.... You'll save me that, Buster. No ma
n with agun in his hands could face what he knew.... But save me more. Save methe tellin'!"

  "No! No! I won't listen!"

  "Maybe I won't have to," replied Wade, mournfully. He paused, breathingheavily. The sober calm was gone.

  Belllounds lowered the half-raised gun, instantly answering to thestrange break in Wade's strained dominance.

  "Don't tell me--any more! I'll not listen!... I won't fight! Wade,you're crazy! Let me off an' I swear--"

  "Buster, I told Collie you were three years in jail!" suddenlyinterrupted Wade.

  A mortal blow dealt Belllounds would not have caused such a shock ofamaze, of torture. The secret of the punishment meted out to him by hisfather! The hideous thing which, instead of reforming, had ruined him!All of hell was expressed in his burning eyes.

  "Ahuh!... I've known it long!" cried Wade, tragically. "Buster Jack,you're the man who must hear my story.... _I'll tell you_...."

  * * * * *

  In the aspen grove up the slope of Sage Valley Columbine and Wilson weresitting on a log. Whatever had been their discourse, it had left Moorewith head bowed in his hands, and with Columbine staring with sad eyesthat did not see what they looked at. Columbine's mind then seemed adull blank. Suddenly she started.

  "Wils!" she cried. "Did you hear--anything?"

  "No," he replied, wearily raising his head.

  "I thought I heard a shot," said Columbine. "It--it sort of made mejump. I'm nervous."

  Scarcely had she finished speaking when two clear, deep detonations rangout. Gun-shots!

  "There!... Oh, Wils! Did you hear?"

  "Hear!" whispered Moore. He grew singularly white. "Yes--yes!...Collie--"

  "Wils," she interrupted, wildly, as she began to shake. "Just a littlebit ago--I saw Jack riding down the trail!"

  "Collie!... Those two shots came from Wade's guns I'd know it among athousand!... Are you sure you heard a shot before?"

  "Oh, something dreadful has happened! Yes, I'm sure. Perfectly sure. Ashot not so loud or heavy."

  "My God!" exclaimed Moore, staring aghast at Columbine.

  "Maybe that's what Wade meant. I never saw through him."

  "Tell me. Oh, I don't understand!" wailed Columbine, wringing her hands.

  Moore did not explain what he meant. For a crippled man, he made quicktime in getting to his horse and mounting.

  "Collie, I'll ride down there. I'm afraid something has happened.... Inever understood him!... I forgot he was Hell-Bent Wade! If there's beena--a fight or any trouble--I'll ride back and meet you."

  Then he rode down the trail.

  Columbine had come without her horse, and she started homeward on foot.Her steps dragged. She knew something dreadful had happened. Her heartbeat slowly and painfully; there was an oppression upon her breast; herbrain whirled with contending tides of thought. She remembered Wade'sface. How blind she had been! It exhausted her to walk, though she wentso slowly. There seemed to be a chill and a darkening in the atmosphere,an unreality in the familiar slopes and groves, a strangeness and shadowupon White Slides Valley.

  Moore did not return to meet her. His white horse grazed in the pastureopposite the first clump of willows, where Sage Valley merged into thelarger valley. Then she saw other horses, among them Lem Billings's baymustang. Columbine faltered on, when suddenly she recognized the horseJack had ridden--a sorrel, spent and foam-covered, standing saddled,with bridle down and riderless--then certainty of something awfulclamped her with horror. Men's husky voices reached her throbbing ears.Some one was running. Footsteps thudded and died away. Then she saw LemBillings come out of the willows, look her way, and hurry toward her.His awkward, cowboy gait seemed too slow for his earnestness. Columbinefelt the piercing gaze of his eyes as her own became dim.

  "Miss Collie, thar's been--turrible fight!" he panted.

  "Oh, Lem!... I know. It was Ben--and Jack," she cried.

  "Shore. Your hunch's correct. An' it couldn't be no wuss!"

  Columbine tried to see his face, the meaning that must have accompaniedhis hoarse voice; but she seemed going blind.

  "Then--then--" she whispered, reaching out for Lem.

  "Hyar, Miss Collie," he said, in great concern, as he took kind andgentle hold of her. "Reckon you'd better wait. Let me take you home."

  "Yes. But tell--tell me first," she cried, frantically. She could notbear suspense, and she felt her senses slipping away from her.

  "My Gawd! who'd ever have thought such hell would come to White Slides!"exclaimed Lem, with strong emotion. "Miss Collie, I'm powerful sorry feryou. But mebbe it's best so.... They're both dead!... Wade just diedwith his head on Wils's lap. But Jack never knowed what hit him. He wasshot plumb center--both his eyes shot out!... Wade was shot low down....Montana an' me agreed thet Jack throwed his gun first an' Wade killedhim after bein' mortal shot himself."

  * * * * *

  Late that afternoon, as Columbine lay upon her bed, the strangestillness of the house was disturbed by a heavy tread. It passed out ofthe living-room and came down the porch toward her door. Then followeda knock.

  "Dad!" she called, swiftly rising.

  Belllounds entered, leaving the door ajar. The sunlight streamed in.

  "Wal, Collie, I see you're bracin' up," he said.

  "Oh yes, dad, I'm--I'm all right," she replied, eager to help or comforthim.

  The old rancher seemed different from the man of the past months. Thepallor of a great shock, the havoc of spent passion, the agony ofterrible hours, showed in his face. But Old Bill Belllounds had comeinto his own again--back to the calm, iron pioneer who had lived allevents, over whom storm of years had broken, whose great spirit hadaccepted this crowning catastrophe as it had all the others, who saw hisown life clearly, now that its bitterest lesson was told.

  "Are you strong enough to bear another shock, my lass, an' bear itnow--so to make an end--so to-morrer we can begin anew?" he asked, withthe voice she had not heard for many a day. It was the voice that toldof consideration for her.

  "Yes, dad," she replied, going to him.

  "Wal, come with me. I want you to see Wade."

  He led her out upon the porch, and thence into the living-room, and fromthere into the room where lay the two dead men, one on each side.Blankets covered the prone, quiet forms.

  Columbine had meant to beg to see Wade once before he was laid awayforever. She dreaded the ordeal, yet strangely longed for it. And hereshe was self-contained, ready for some nameless shock and uplift, whichshe divined was coming as she had divined the change in Belllounds.

  Then he stripped back the blanket, disclosing Wade's face. Columbinethrilled to the core of her heart. Death was there, white and cold andmerciless, but as it had released the tragic soul, the instant ofdeliverance had been stamped on the rugged, cadaverous visage, by abeautiful light; not of peace, nor of joy, nor of grief, but of hope!Hope had been the last emotion of Hell-Bent Wade.

  "Collie, listen," said the old rancher, in deep and trembling tones."When a man's dead, what he's been comes to us with startlin' truth.Wade was the whitest man I ever knew. He had a queer idee--a twist inhis mind--an' it was thet his steps were bent toward hell. He imaginedthet everywhere he traveled there he fetched hell. But he was wrong. Hisown trouble led him to the trouble of others. He saw through life. An'he was as big in his hope fer the good as he was terrible in his dealin'with the bad. I never saw his like.... He loved you, Collie, betterthan you ever knew. Better than Jack, or Wils, or me! You know what theBible says about him who gives his life fer his friend. Wal, Wade was myfriend, an' Jack's, only we never could see!... An' he was Wils'sfriend. An' to you he must have been more than words can tell.... We allknow what child's play it would have been fer Wade to kill Jack withoutbein' hurt himself. But he wouldn't do it. So he spared me an' Jack, an'I reckon himself. Somehow he made Jack fight an' die like a man. Godonly knows how he did that. But it saved me from--from hell--an' you an'Wils from misery.
... Wade could have taken you from me an' Jack. He hadonly to tell you his secret, an' he wouldn't. He saw how you loved me,as if you were my real child.... But. Collie, lass, it was _he_ who wasyour father!"

  With bursting heart Columbine fell upon her knees beside that cold,still form.

  Belllounds softly left the room and closed the door behind him.

  CHAPTER XX

  Nature was prodigal with her colors that autumn. The frosts came late,so that the leaves did not gradually change their green. One day, as ifby magic, there was gold among the green, and in another there waspurple and red. Then the hilltops blazed with their crowns of aspengroves; and the slopes of sage shone mellow gray in the sunlight; andthe vines on the stone fences straggled away in lines of bronze; and thepatches of ferns under the cliffs faded fast; and the great rock slidesand black-timbered reaches stood out in their somber shades.

  Columbines bloomed in all the dells among the spruces, beautiful stalkswith heavy blossoms, the sweetest and palest of blue-white flowers.Motionless they lifted their faces to the light. Out in the aspengroves, where the grass was turning gold, the columbines blew gracefullyin the wind, nodding and swaying. The most exquisite and finest of thesecolumbines hid in the shaded nooks, star-sweet in the silent gloom ofthe woods.

  Wade's last few whispered words to Moore had been interpreted that thehunter desired to be buried among the columbines in the aspen grove onthe slope above Sage Valley. Here, then, had been made his grave.

  * * * * *

  One day Belllounds sent Columbine to fetch Moore down to White Slides.It was a warm, Indian-summer afternoon, and the old rancher sat out onthe porch in his shirt-sleeves. His hair was white now, but no otherchange was visible in him. No restraint attended his greeting tothe cowboy.

  "Wils, I reckon I'd be glad if you'd take your old job as foreman ofWhite Slides," he said.

  "Are you asking me?" queried Moore, eagerly.

  "Wal, I reckon so."

  "Yes, I'll come," replied the cowboy.

  "What'll your dad say?"

  "I don't know. That worries me. He's coming to visit me. I heard fromhim again lately, and he means to take stage for Kremmling soon."

  "Wal, that's fine. I'll be glad to see him.... Wils, you're goin' to bea big cattleman before you know it. Hey, Collie?"

  "If you say so, dad, it'll come true," replied Columbine, with her handon his shoulder.

  "Wils, you'll be runnin' White Slides Ranch before long, unless Collieruns you. Haw! Haw!"

  Collie could not reply to this startling announcement from the oldrancher, and Moore appeared distressed with embarrassment.

  "Wal, I reckon you young folks had better ride down to Kremmlin' an' getmarried."

  This kindly, matter-of-fact suggestion completely stunned the cowboy,and all Columbine could do was to gaze at the rancher.

  "Say, I hope I ain't intrudin' my wishes on a young couple that's gotover dyin' fer each other," dryly continued Belllounds, with hishuge smile.

  "Dad!" cried Columbine, and then she threw her arms around him andburied her head on his shoulder.

  "Wal, wal, I reckon that answers that," he said, holding her close."Moore, she's yours, with my blessin' an' all I have.... An' you mustunderstand I'm glad things have worked out to your good an' to Collie'shappiness.... Life's not over fer me yet. But I reckon the storms arepast, thank God!... We learn as we live. I'd hold it onworthy not tolook forward an' to hope. I'm wantin' peace an' quiet now, withgrandchildren around me in my old age.... So ride along to Kremmlin' an'hurry home."

  * * * * *

  The evening of the day Columbine came home to White Slides the bride ofWilson Moore she slipped away from the simple festivities in her honorand climbed to the aspen grove on the hill to spend a little whilebeside the grave of her father.

  The afterglow of sunset burned dull gold and rose in the western sky,rendering glorious the veil of purple over the ranges. Down in thelowlands twilight had come, softly gray. The owls were hooting; a coyotebarked; from far away floated the mourn of a wolf.

  Under the aspens it was silent and lonely and sad. The leaves quiveredwithout any sound of rustling. Columbine's heart was full of a happinessthat she longed to express somehow, there beside this lonely grave. Itwas what she owed the strange man who slept here in the shadows. Griefabided with her, and always there would be an eternal remorse andregret. Yet she had loved him. She had been his, all unconsciously. Hislife had been terrible, but it had been great. As the hours of quietthinking had multiplied, Columbine had grown in her divination of Wade'smeaning. His had been the spirit of man lighting the dark places; hishad been the ruthless hand against all evil, terrible to destroy.

  Her father! After all, how closely was she linked to the past! Howclosely protected, even in the hours of most helpless despair! Thus sheunderstood him. Love was the food of life, and hope was itsspirituality, and beauty was its reward to the seeing eye. Wade hadlived these great virtues, even while he had earned a tragic name.

  "I will live them. I will have faith and hope and love, for I am hisdaughter," she said. A faint, cool breeze strayed through the aspens,rustling the leaves whisperingly, and the slender columbines, gleamingpale in the twilight, lifted their sweet faces.

  THE END