The Rustlers of Pecos County

by Zane Grey

  Chapter 8

  THE EAVESDROPPER

  We silently rode home in the gathering dusk. Miss Sampson dismounted atthe porch, but Sally went on with me to the corrals. I felt heavy andsomber, as if a catastrophe was near at hand.

  "Help me down," said Sally. Her voice was low and tremulous.

  "Sally, did you hear what Miss Sampson said to Steele?" I asked.

  "A little, here and there. I heard Steele tell her he loved her. Isn'tthis a terrible mix?"

  "It sure is. Did you hear--do you understand why she appealed to Steele,asked him to be her friend?"

  "Did she? No, I didn't hear that. I heard her say she had wronged him.Then I tried not to hear any more. Tell me."

  "No Sally; it's not my secret. I wish I could do something--help themsomehow. Yes, it's sure a terrible mix. I don't care so much aboutmyself."

  "Nor me," Sally retorted.

  "You! Oh, you're only a shallow spoiled child! You'd cease to loveanything the moment you won it. And I--well, I'm no good, you say. Buttheir love! My God, what a tragedy! You've no idea, Sally. They'vehardly spoken to each other, yet are ready to be overwhelmed."

  Sally sat so still and silent that I thought I had angered or offendedher. But I did not care much, one way or another. Her coquettish fancyfor me and my own trouble had sunk into insignificance. I did not lookup at her, though she was so close I could feel her little, restlessfoot touching me. The horses in the corrals were trooping up to thebars. Dusk had about given place to night, although in the west a broadflare of golden sky showed bright behind dark mountains.

  "So I say you're no good?" asked Sally after a long silence. Then hervoice and the way her hand stole to my shoulder should have been warningfor me. But it was not, or I did not care.

  "Yes, you said that, didn't you?" I replied absently.

  "I can change my mind, can't I? Maybe you're only wild and reckless whenyou drink. Mrs. Hoden said such nice things about you. They made me feelso good."

  I had no reply for that and still did not look up at her. I heard herswing herself around in the saddle. "Lift me down," she said.

  Perhaps at any other time I would have remarked that this request wasrather unusual, considering the fact that she was very light and sure ofaction, extremely proud of it, and likely to be insulted by an offer ofassistance. But my spirit was dead. I reached for her hands, but theyeluded mine, slipped up my arms as she came sliding out of the saddle,and then her face was very close to mine. "Russ!" she whispered. It wastorment, wistfulness, uncertainty, and yet tenderness all in one littlewhisper. It caught me off guard or indifferent to consequences. So Ikissed her, without passion, with all regret and sadness. She uttered alittle cry that might have been mingled exultation and remorse for hervictory and her broken faith. Certainly the instant I kissed her sheremembered the latter. She trembled against me, and leaving unsaidsomething she had meant to say, she slipped out of my arms and ran. Sheassuredly was frightened, and I thought it just as well that she was.

  Presently she disappeared in the darkness and then the swift littleclinks of her spurs ceased. I laughed somewhat ruefully and hoped shewould be satisfied. Then I put away the horses and went in for mysupper.

  After supper I noisily bustled around my room, and soon stole out for myusual evening's spying. The night was dark, without starlight, and thestiff wind rustled the leaves and tore through the vines on the oldhouse. The fact that I had seen and heard so little during my constantvigilance did not make me careless or the task monotonous. I had so muchto think about that sometimes I sat in one place for hours and neverknew where the time went.

  This night, the very first thing, I heard Wright's well-known footsteps,and I saw Sampson's door open, flashing a broad bar of light into thedarkness. Wright crossed the threshold, the door closed, and all wasdark again outside. Not a ray of light escaped from the window. This wasthe first visit of Wright for a considerable stretch of time. Littledoubt there was that his talk with Sampson would be interesting to me.

  I tiptoed to the door and listened, but I could hear only a murmur ofvoices. Besides, that position was too risky. I went round the corner ofthe house. Some time before I had made a discovery that I imagined wouldbe valuable to me. This side of the big adobe house was of much olderconstruction than the back and larger part. There was a narrow passageabout a foot wide between the old and new walls, and this ran from theoutside through to the patio. I had discovered the entrance by accident,as it was concealed by vines and shrubbery. I crawled in there, upon anopportune occasion, with the intention of boring a small hole throughthe adobe bricks. But it was not necessary to do that, for the wall wascracked; and in one place I could see into Sampson's room. This passagenow afforded me my opportunity, and I decided to avail myself of it inspite of the very great danger. Crawling on my hands and knees verystealthily, I got under the shrubbery to the entrance of the passage. Inthe blackness a faint streak of light showed the location of the crackin the wall.

  I had to slip in sidewise. It was a tight squeeze, but I entered withoutthe slightest sound. If my position were to be betrayed it would not befrom noise. As I progressed the passage grew a very little wider in thatdirection, and this fact gave rise to the thought that in case of anecessary and hurried exit I would do best by working toward the patio.It seemed a good deal of time was consumed in reaching my vantage-point.When I did get there the crack was a foot over my head. If I had onlybeen tall like Steele! There was nothing to do but find toe-holes in thecrumbling walls, and by bracing knees on one side, back against theother, hold myself up to the crack.

  Once with my eye there I did not care what risk I ran. Sampson appeareddisturbed; he sat stroking his mustache; his brow was clouded. Wright'sface seemed darker, more sullen, yet lighted by some indomitableresolve.

  "We'll settle both deals to-night," Wright was saying. "That's what Icame for. That's why I've asked Snecker and Blome to be here."

  "But suppose I don't choose to talk here?" protested Sampsonimpatiently. "I never before made my house a place to--"

  "We've waited long enough. This place's as good as any. You've lost yournerve since that Ranger hit the town. First, now, will you give Diane tome?"

  "George, you talk like a spoiled boy. Give Diane to you! Why, she's awoman and I'm finding out that she's got a mind of her own. I told you Iwas willing for her to marry you. I tried to persuade her. But Dianehasn't any use for you now. She liked you at first; but now she doesn't.So what can I do?"

  "You can make her marry me," replied Wright.

  "Make that girl do what she doesn't want to? It couldn't be done, evenif I tried. And I don't believe I'll try. I haven't the highest opinionof you as a prospective son-in-law, George. But if Diane loved you Iwould consent. We'd all go away together before this damned miserablebusiness is out. Then she'd never know. And maybe you might be more likeyou used to be before the West ruined you. But as matters stand youfight your own game with her; and I'll tell you now, you'll lose."

  "What'd you want to let her come out here for?" demanded Wright hotly."It was a dead mistake. I've lost my head over her. I'll have her ordie. Don't you think if she was my wife I'd soon pull myself together?Since she came we've none of us been right. And the gang has put up aholler. No, Sampson, we've got to settle things to-night."

  "Well, we can settle what Diane's concerned in right now," repliedSampson, rising. "Come on; we'll go ask her. See where you stand."

  They went out, leaving the door open. I dropped down to rest myself andto wait. I would have liked to hear Miss Sampson's answer to him. But Icould guess what it would be. Wright appeared to be all I had thought ofhim, and I believed I was going to find out presently that he was worse.Just then I wanted Steele as never before. Still, he was too big to wormhis way into this place.

  The men seemed to be absent a good while, though that feeling might havebeen occasioned by my interest and anxiety. Finally I heard heavy steps.Wright came in alone. He was leaden-faced, humiliated. Then somethin
gabject in him gave place to rage. He strode the room; he cursed.

  Sampson returned, now appreciably calmer. I could not but decide that hefelt relief at the evident rejection of Wright's proposal. "Don't fumeabout it, George," he said. "You see I can't help it. We're pretty wildout here, but I can't rope my daughter and give her to you as I would anunruly steer."

  "Sampson, I can _make_ her marry me," declared Wright thickly.

  "How?"

  "You know the hold I got on you--the deal that made you boss of thisrustler gang?"

  "It isn't likely I'd forget," replied Sampson grimly.

  "I can go to Diane--tell her that--make her believe I'd tell itbroadcast, tell this Ranger Steele, unless she'd marry me!" Wright spokebreathlessly, with haggard face and shadowed eyes. He had no shame. Hewas simply in the grip of passion. Sampson gazed with dark, controlledfury at his relative. In that look I saw a strong, unscrupulous manfallen into evil ways, but still a man. It betrayed Wright to be thewild and passionate weakling.

  I seemed to see also how, during all the years of association, thisstrong man had upheld the weak one. But that time had gone forever, bothin intent on Sampson's part and in possibility. Wright, like the greatmajority of evil and unrestrained men on the border, had reached a pointwhere influence was futile. Reason had degenerated. He saw only himself.

  "But, George, Diane's the one person on earth who must never know I'm arustler, a thief, a red-handed ruler of the worst gang on the border,"replied Sampson impressively.

  George bowed his head at that, as if the significance had just occurredto him. But he was not long at a loss. "She's going to find it outsooner or later. I tell you she knows now there's something wrong outhere. She's got eyes. And that meddling cowboy of hers is smarter thanyou give him credit for. They're always together. You'll regret the dayRuss ever straddled a horse on this ranch. Mark what I say."

  "Diane's changed, I know; but she hasn't any idea yet that her daddy's aboss rustler. Diane's concerned about what she calls my duty as mayor.Also I think she's not satisfied with my explanations in regard tocertain property."

  Wright halted in his restless walk and leaned against the stonemantelpiece. He squared himself as if this was his last stand. He lookeddesperate, but on the moment showed an absence of his usual nervousexcitement. "Sampson, that may well be true," he said. "No doubt allyou say is true. But it doesn't help me. I want the girl. If I don't gether I reckon we'll all go to hell!" He might have meant anything,probably meant the worst. He certainly had something more in mind.

  Sampson gave a slight start, barely perceptible like the twitch of anawakening tiger. He sat there, head down, stroking his mustache. AlmostI saw his thought. I had long experience in reading men under stress ofsuch emotion. I had no means to vindicate my judgment, but my convictionwas that Sampson right then and there decided that the thing to do wasto kill Wright. For my part, I wondered that he had not come to such aconclusion before. Not improbably the advent of his daughter had putSampson in conflict with himself.

  Suddenly he threw off a somber cast of countenance and began to talk. Hetalked swiftly, persuasively, yet I imagined he was talking to smoothWright's passion for the moment. Wright no more caught the fatefulsignificance of a line crossed, a limit reached, a decree decided, thanif he had not been present. He was obsessed with himself.

  How, I wondered, had a man of his mind ever lived so long and gone sofar among the exacting conditions of Pecos County? The answer wasperhaps, that Sampson had guided him, upheld him, protected him. Thecoming of Diane Sampson had been the entering wedge of dissension.

  "You're too impatient," concluded Sampson. "You'll ruin any chance ofhappiness if you rush Diane. She might be won. If you told her who I amshe'd hate you forever. She might marry you to save me, but she'd hateyou.

  "That isn't the way. Wait. Play for time. Be different with her. Cut outyour drinking. She despises that. Let's plan to sell out here, stock,ranch, property, and leave the country. Then you'd have a show withher."

  "I told you we've got to stick," growled Wright. "The gang won't standfor our going. It can't be done unless you want to sacrificeeverything."

  "You mean double-cross the men? Go without their knowing? Leave themhere to face whatever comes?"

  "I mean just that."

  "I'm bad enough, but not that bad," returned Sampson. "If I can't getthe gang to let me off I'll stay and face the music. All the same,Wright, did it ever strike you that most of our deals the last few yearshave been yours?"

  "Yes. If I hadn't rung them in, there wouldn't have been any. You've hadcold feet, Owens says, especially since this Ranger Steele has beenhere."

  "Well, call it cold feet if you like. But I call it sense. We reachedour limit long ago. We began by rustling a few cattle at a time whenrustling was laughed at. But as our greed grew so did our boldness. Thencame the gang, the regular trips, and one thing and another till, beforewe knew it--before _I_ knew it, we had shady deals, hold-ups, andmurders on our record. Then we had to go on. Too late to turn back!"

  "I reckon we've all said that. None of the gang wants to quit. They allthink, and I think, we can't be touched. We may be blamed, but nothingcan be proved. We're too strong."

  "There's where you're dead wrong," rejoined Sampson, emphatically. "Iimagined that once, not long ago. I was bull-headed. Who would everconnect Roger Sampson with a rustler gang? I've changed my mind. I'vebegun to think. I've reasoned out things. We're crooked and we can'tlast. It's the nature of life, even in wild Pecos, for conditions togrow better. The wise deal for us would be to divide equally and leavethe country, all of us."

  "But you and I have all the stock--all the gain," protested Wright.

  "I'll split mine."

  "I won't--that settles that," added Wright instantly.

  Sampson spread wide his hands as if it was useless to try to convincethis man. Talking had not increased his calmness, and he now showed morethan impatience. A dull glint gleamed deep in his eyes. "Your stock andproperty will last a long time--do you lots of good when Steele--"

  "Bah!" hoarsely croaked Wright. The Ranger's name was a match appliedto powder. "Haven't I told you he'd be dead soon same as Hoden is?"

  "Yes, you mentioned the supposition," replied Sampson sarcastically. "Iinquired, too just how that very desired event was to be brought about."

  "Blome's here to kill Steele."

  "Bah!" retorted Sampson in turn. "Blome can't kill this Ranger. He can'tface him with a ghost of a show--he'll never get a chance at Steele'sback. The man don't live on this border who's quick and smart enough tokill Steele."

  "I'd like to know why?" demanded Wright sullenly.

  "You ought to know. You've seen the Ranger pull a gun."

  "Who told you?" queried Wright, his face working.

  "Oh, I guessed it, if that'll do you."

  "If Jack doesn't kill this damned Ranger I will," replied Wright,pounding the table.

  Sampson laughed contemptuously. "George, don't make so much noise. Anddon't be a fool. You've been on the border for ten years. You've packeda gun and you've used it. You've been with Blome and Snecker when theykilled their men. You've been present at many fights. But you never sawa man like Steele. You haven't got sense enough to see him right if youhad a chance. Neither has Blome. The only way to get rid of Steele isfor the gang to draw on him, all at once. And even then he's going todrop some of them."

  "Sampson, you say that like a man who wouldn't care much if Steele diddrop some of them," declared Wright, and now he was sarcastic.

  "To tell you the truth I wouldn't," returned the other bluntly. "I'mpretty sick of this mess."

  Wright cursed in amaze. His emotions were out of all proportion to hisintelligence. He was not at all quick-witted. I had never seen a vaineror more arrogant man. "Sampson, I don't like your talk," he said.

  "If you don't like the way I talk you know what you can do," repliedSampson quickly. He stood up then, cool and quiet, with flash of eyesand set of lips t
hat told me he was dangerous.

  "Well, after all, that's neither here nor there," went on Wright,unconsciously cowed by the other. "The thing is, do I get the girl?"

  "Not by any means, except her consent."

  "You'll not make her marry me?"

  "No. No," replied Sampson, his voice still cold, low-pitched.

  "All right. Then I'll make her."

  Evidently Sampson understood the man before him so well that he wastedno more words. I knew what Wright never dreamed of, and that was thatSampson had a gun somewhere within reach and meant to use it.

  Then heavy footsteps sounded outside, tramping upon the porch. I mighthave been mistaken, but I believed those footsteps saved Wright's life.

  "There they are," said Wright, and he opened the door. Five masked menentered. About two of them I could not recognize anything familiar. Ithought one had old Snecker's burly shoulders and another Bo Snecker'sstripling shape. I did recognize Blome in spite of his mask, because hisfair skin and hair, his garb and air of distinction made plain hisidentity. They all wore coats, hiding any weapons. The big man withburly shoulders shook hands with Sampson and the others stood back.

  The atmosphere of that room had changed. Wright might have been anonentity for all he counted. Sampson was another man--a stranger to me.If he had entertained a hope of freeing himself from his band, ofgetting away to a safer country, he abandoned it at the very sight ofthese men. There was power here and he was bound.

  The big man spoke in low, hoarse whispers, and at this all the othersgathered round him, close to the table. There were evidently some signsof membership not plain to me. Then all the heads were bent over thetable. Low voices spoke, queried, answered, argued. By straining my earsI caught a word here and there. They were planning. I did not attempt toget at the meaning of the few words and phrases I distinguished, butheld them in mind so to piece all together afterward. Before theplotters finished conferring I had an involuntary flashed knowledge ofmuch and my whirling, excited mind made reception difficult.

  When these rustlers finished whispering I was in a cold sweat. Steelewas to be killed as soon as possible by Blome, or by the gang going toSteele's house at night. Morton had been seen with the Ranger. He was tomeet the same fate as Hoden, dealt by Bo Snecker, who evidently workedin the dark like a ferret. Any other person known to be communing withSteele, or interested in him, or suspected of either, was to besilenced. Then the town was to suffer a short deadly spell of violence,directed anywhere, for the purpose of intimidating those people who hadbegun to be restless under the influence of the Ranger. After that, bigherds of stock were to be rustled off the ranches to the north anddriven to El Paso.

  Then the big man, who evidently was the leader of the presentconvention, got up to depart. He went as swiftly as he had come, and wasfollowed by the slender fellow. As far as it was possible for me to besure, I identified these two as Snecker and his son. The others,however, remained. Blome removed his mask, which action was duplicatedby the two rustlers who had stayed with him. They were both young,bronzed, hard of countenance, not unlike cowboys. Evidently this was nowa social call on Sampson. He set out cigars and liquors for his guests,and a general conversation ensued, differing little from what might havebeen indulged in by neighborly ranchers. There was not a word spokenthat would have caused suspicion.

  Blome was genial, gay, and he talked the most. Wright alone seemeduncommunicative and unsociable. He smoked fiercely and drankcontinually. All at once he straightened up as if listening. "What'sthat?" he called suddenly.

  The talking and laughter ceased. My own strained ears were pervaded by aslight rustling sound.

  "Must be a rat," replied Sampson in relief. Strange how any sudden orunknown thing weighed upon him.

  The rustling became a rattle.

  "Sounds like a rattlesnake to me," said Blome.

  Sampson got up from the table and peered round the room. Just at thatinstant I felt an almost inappreciable movement of the adobe wall whichsupported me. I could scarcely credit my senses. But the rattle insideSampson's room was mingling with little dull thuds of falling dirt. Theadobe wall, merely dried mud was crumbling. I distinctly felt a tremorpass through it. Then the blood gushed with sickening coldness back tomy heart and seemingly clogged it.

  "What in the hell!" exclaimed Sampson.

  "I smell dust," said Blome sharply.

  That was the signal for me to drop down from my perch, yet despite mycare I made a noise.

  "Did you hear a step?" queried Sampson.

  Then a section of the wall fell inward with a crash. I began to squeezemy body through the narrow passage toward the patio.

  "Hear him!" yelled Wright. "This side."

  "No, he's going that way," yelled someone else. The tramp of heavy bootslent me the strength and speed of desperation. I was not shirking afight, but to be cornered like a trapped coyote was another matter. Ialmost tore my clothes off in that passage. The dust nearly stifled me.

  When I burst into the patio it was not one single instant too soon. Butone deep gash of breath revived me, and I was up, gun in hand, runningfor the outlet into the court. Thumping footsteps turned me back. Whilethere was a chance to get away I did not want to meet odds in a fight. Ithought I heard some one running into the patio from the other end. Istole along, and coming to a door, without any idea of where it mightlead, I softly pushed it open a little way and slipped in.