by Zane Grey
Chapter 12
TORN TWO WAYS
Steele lay in a shady little glade, partly walled by the masses ofupreared rocks that we used as a lookout point. He was asleep, yet farfrom comfortable. The bandage I had put around his head had been madefrom strips of soiled towel, and, having collected sundry bloody spots,it was an unsightly affair. There was a blotch of dried blood down oneside of Steele's face. His shirt bore more dark stains, and in one placewas pasted fast to his shoulder where a bandage marked the location ofhis other wound. A number of green flies were crawling over him andbuzzing around his head. He looked helpless, despite his giant size; andcertainly a great deal worse off than I had intimated, and, in fact,than he really was.
Miss Sampson gasped when she saw him and both her hands flew to herbreast.
"Girls, don't make any noise," I whispered. "I'd rather he didn't wakesuddenly to find you here. Go round behind the rocks there. I'll wakehim, and call you presently."
They complied with my wish, and I stepped down to Steele and gave him alittle shake. He awoke instantly.
"Hello!" I said, "Want a drink?"
"Water or champagne?" he inquired.
I stared at him. "I've some champagne behind the rocks," I added.
"Water, you locoed son of a gun!"
He looked about as thirsty as a desert coyote; also, he looked flighty.I was reaching for the canteen when I happened to think what pleasure itwould be to Miss Sampson to minister to him, and I drew back. "Wait alittle." Then with an effort I plunged. "Vaughn, listen. Miss Sampsonand Sally are here."
I thought he was going to jump up, he started so violently, and Ipressed him back.
"She--Why, she's been here all the time--Russ, you haven'tdouble-crossed me?"
"Steele!" I exclaimed. He was certainly out of his head.
"Pure accident, old man."
He appeared to be half stunned, yet an eager, strange, haunting lookshone in his eyes. "Fool!" he exclaimed.
"Can't you make the ordeal easier for her?" I asked.
"This'll be hard on Diane. She's got to be told things!"
"Ah!" breathed Steele, sinking back. "Make it easier for her--Russ,you're a damned schemer. You have given me the double-cross. You haveand she's going to."
"We're in bad, both of us," I replied thickly. "I've ideas, crazy enoughmaybe. I'm between the devil and the deep sea, I tell you. I'm aboutready to show yellow. All the same, I say, see Miss Sampson and talk toher, even if you can't talk straight."
"All right, Russ," he replied hurriedly. "But, God, man, don't I look asight! All this dirt and blood!"
"Well, old man, if she takes that bungled mug of yours in her lap, youcan be sure you're loved. You needn't jump out of your boots! Brace upnow, for I'm going to bring the girls." As I got up to go I heard himgroan. I went round behind the stones and found the girls. "Come on," Isaid. "He's awake now, but a little queer. Feverish. He gets that waysometimes. It won't last long." I led Miss Sampson and Sally back intothe shade of our little camp glade.
Steele had gotten worse all in a moment. Also, the fool had pulled thebandage off his head; his wound had begun to bleed anew, and the flieswere paying no attention to his weak efforts to brush them away. Hishead rolled as we reached his side, and his eyes were certainly wild andwonderful and devouring enough. "Who's that?" he demanded.
"Easy there, old man," I replied. "I've brought the girls." Miss Sampsonshook like a leaf in the wind.
"So you've come to see me die?" asked Steele in a deep and hollow voice.Miss Sampson gave me a lightning glance of terror.
"He's only off his head," I said. "Soon as we wash and bathe his head,cool his temperature, he'll be all right."
"Oh!" cried Miss Sampson, and dropped to her knees, flinging her glovesaside. She lifted Steele's head into her lap. When I saw her tearsfalling upon his face I felt worse than a villain. She bent over him fora moment, and one of the tender hands at his cheeks met the flow offresh blood and did not shrink. "Sally," she said, "bring the scarf outof my coat. There's a veil too. Bring that. Russ, you get me somewater--pour some in the pan there."
"Water!" whispered Steele.
She gave him a drink. Sally came with the scarf and veil, and then shebacked away to the stone, and sat there. The sight of blood had made hera little pale and weak. Miss Sampson's hands trembled and her tearsstill fell, but neither interfered with her tender and skillful dressingof that bullet wound.
Steele certainly said a lot of crazy things. "But why'd you come--why'reyou so good--when you don't love me?"
"Oh, but--I do--love you," whispered Miss Sampson brokenly.
"How do I know?"
"I am here. I tell you."
There was a silence, during which she kept on bathing his head, and hekept on watching her. "Diane!" he broke out suddenly.
"Yes--yes."
"That won't stop the pain in my head."
"Oh, I hope so."
"Kiss me--that will," he whispered. She obeyed as a child might have,and kissed his damp forehead close to the red furrow where the bulletcut.
"Not there," Steele whispered.
Then blindly, as if drawn by a magnet, she bent to his lips. I could notturn away my head, though my instincts were delicate enough. I believethat kiss was the first kiss of love for both Diane Sampson and VaughnSteele. It was so strange and so long, and somehow beautiful. Steelelooked rapt. I could only see the side of Diane's face, and that waswhite, like snow. After she raised her head she seemed unable, for amoment, to take up her task where it had been broken off, and Steele layas if he really were dead. Here I got up, and seating myself besideSally, I put an arm around her. "Sally dear, there are others," I said.
"Oh, Russ--what's to come of it all?" she faltered, and then she brokedown and began to cry softly. I would have been only too glad to tellher what hung in the balance, one way or another, had I known. Butsurely, catastrophe! Then I heard Steele's voice again and itshuskiness, its different tone, made me fearful, made me strain my earswhen I tried, or thought I tried, not to listen.
"Diane, you know how hard my duty is, don't you?"
"Yes, I know--I think I know."
"You've guessed--about your father?"
"I've seen all along you must clash. But it needn't be so bad. If I canonly bring you two together--Ah! please don't speak any more. You'reexcited now, just not yourself."
"No, listen. We must clash, your father and I. Diane, he's not--"
"Not what he seems! Oh, I know, to my sorrow."
"What do you know?" She seemed drawn by a will stronger thanher own. "To my shame I know. He has been greedy, crafty,unscrupulous--dishonest."
"Diane, if he were only that! That wouldn't make my duty torture. Thatwouldn't ruin your life. Dear, sweet girl, forgive me--your father's--"
"Hush, Vaughn. You're growing excited. It will not do. Please--please--"
"Diane, your father's--chief of this--gang that I came to break up."
"My God, hear him! How dare you--Oh, Vaughn, poor, poor boy, you're outof your mind! Sally, Russ, what shall we do? He's worse. He's saying themost dreadful things! I--I can't bear to hear him!"
Steele heaved a sigh and closed his eyes. I walked away with Sally, ledher to and fro in a shady aisle beyond the rocks, and tried to comforther as best I could. After a while, when we returned to the glade, MissSampson had considerable color in her cheeks, and Steele was leaningagainst the rock, grave and sad. I saw that he had recovered and he hadreached the critical point. "Hello, Russ," he said. "Sprung a surpriseon me, didn't you? Miss Sampson says I've been a little flighty whileshe bandaged me up. I hope I wasn't bad. I certainly feel better now. Iseem to--to have dreamed."
Miss Sampson flushed at his concluding words. Then silence ensued. Icould not think of anything to say and Sally was dumb. "You all seemvery strange," said Miss Sampson.
When Steele's face turned gray to his lips I knew the moment had come."No doubt. We all feel so deeply for you," he said.
&n
bsp; "Me? Why?"
"Because the truth must no longer be concealed."
It was her turn to blanch, and her eyes, strained, dark as night,flashed from one of us to the other.
"The truth! Tell it then." She had more courage than any of us.
"Miss Sampson, your father is the leader of this gang of rustlers Ihave been tracing. Your cousin George Wright, is his right-hand man."
Miss Sampson heard, but she did not believe.
"Tell her, Russ," Steele added huskily, turning away. Wildly she whirledto me. I would have given anything to have been able to lie to her. Asit was I could not speak. But she read the truth in my face. And shecollapsed as if she had been shot. I caught her and laid her on thegrass. Sally, murmuring and crying, worked over her. I helped. ButSteele stood aloof, dark and silent, as if he hoped she would neverreturn to consciousness.
When she did come to, and began to cry, to moan, to talk frantically,Steele staggered away, while Sally and I made futile efforts to calmher. All we could do was to prevent her doing herself violence.Presently, when her fury of emotion subsided, and she began to show ahopeless stricken shame, I left Sally with her and went off a little waymyself. How long I remained absent I had no idea, but it was noinconsiderable length of time. Upon my return, to my surprise andrelief, Miss Sampson had recovered her composure, or at least,self-control. She stood leaning against the rock where Steele had been,and at this moment, beyond any doubt, she was supremely more beautifulthan I had ever seen her. She was white, tragic, wonderful. "Where isMr. Steele?" she asked. Her tone and her look did not seem at allsuggestive of the mood I expected to find her in--one of beseechingagony, of passionate appeal to Steele not to ruin her father.
"I'll find him," I replied turning away.
Steele was readily found and came back with me. He was as unlike himselfas she was strange. But when they again faced each other, then they wereindeed new to me.
"I want to know--what you must do," she said. Steele told her briefly,and his voice was stern.
"Those--those criminals outside of my own family don't concern me now.But can my father and cousin be taken without bloodshed? I want to knowthe absolute truth." Steele knew that they could not be, but he couldnot tell her so. Again she appealed to me. Thus my part in the situationgrew harder. It hurt me so that it made me angry, and my anger made mecruelly frank.
"No. It can't be done. Sampson and Wright will be desperately hard toapproach, which'll make the chances even. So, if you must know thetruth, it'll be your father and cousin to go under, or it'll be Steeleor me, or any combination luck breaks--or all of us!"
Her self-control seemed to fly to the four winds. Swift as light sheflung herself down before Steele, against his knees, clasped her armsround him. "Good God! Miss Sampson, you mustn't do that!" imploredSteele. He tried to break her hold with shaking hands, but he could not.
"Listen! Listen!" she cried, and her voice made Steele, and Sally and mealso, still as the rock behind us. "Hear me! Do you think I beg you tolet my father go, for his sake? No! No! I have gloried in your Rangerduty. I have loved you because of it. But some awful tragedy threatenshere. Listen, Vaughn Steele. Do not you deny me, as I kneel here. I loveyou. I never loved any other man. But not for my love do I beseech you.
"There is no help here unless you forswear your duty. Forswear it! Donot kill my father--the father of the woman who loves you. Worse andmore horrible it would be to let my father kill you! It's I who makethis situation unnatural, impossible. You must forswear your duty. I canlive no longer if you don't. I pray you--" Her voice had sunk to awhisper, and now it failed. Then she seemed to get into his arms, towind herself around him, her hair loosened, her face upturned, white andspent, her arms blindly circling his neck. She was all love, allsurrender, all supreme appeal, and these, without her beauty, would havemade her wonderful. But her beauty! Would not Steele have been less thana man or more than a man had he been impervious to it? She was like somesnow-white exquisite flower, broken, and suddenly blighted. She was awoman then in all that made a woman helpless--in all that made hermysterious, sacred, absolutely and unutterably more than any other thingin life. All this time my gaze had been riveted on her only. But whenshe lifted her white face, tried to lift it, rather, and he drew her up,and then when both white faces met and seemed to blend in somethingrapt, awesome, tragic as life--then I saw Steele.
I saw a god, a man as beautiful as she was. They might have stood,indeed, they did stand alone in the heart of a desert--alone in theworld--alone with their love and their agony. It was a solemn andprofound moment for me. I faintly realized how great it must have beenfor them, yet all the while there hammered at my mind the vital thing atstake. Had they forgotten, while I remembered? It might have been only amoment that he held her. It might have been my own agitation thatconjured up such swift and whirling thoughts. But if my mind sometimesplayed me false my eyes never had. I thought I saw Diane Sampson die inSteele's arms; I could have sworn his heart was breaking; and mine wason the point of breaking, too.
How beautiful they were! How strong, how mercifully strong, yet shaken,he seemed! How tenderly, hopelessly, fatally appealing she was in thathour of her broken life! If I had been Steele I would have forsworn myduty, honor, name, service for her sake. Had I mind enough to divine historture, his temptation, his narrow escape? I seemed to feel them, atany rate, and while I saw him with a beautiful light on his face, I sawhim also ghastly, ashen, with hands that shook as they groped aroundher, loosing her, only to draw her convulsively back again. It was thesaddest sight I had ever seen. Death was nothing to it. Here was thedeath of happiness. He must wreck the life of the woman who loved himand whom he loved. I was becoming half frantic, almost ready to cry outthe uselessness of this scene, almost on the point of pulling themapart, when Sally dragged me away. Her clinging hold then made me feelperhaps a little of what Miss Sampson's must have been to Steele.
How different the feeling when it was mine! I could have thrust themapart, after all my schemes and tricks, to throw them together, invague, undefined fear of their embrace. Still, when love beat at my ownpulses, when Sally's soft hand held me tight and she leaned to me--thatwas different. I was glad to be led away--glad to have a chance to pullmyself together. But was I to have that chance? Sally, who in the stifeof emotion had been forgotten, might have to be reckoned with. Deepwithin me, some motive, some purpose, was being born in travail. I didnot know what, but instinctively I feared Sally. I feared her because Iloved her. My wits came back to combat my passion. This hazel-eyed girl,soft, fragile creature, might be harder to move than the Ranger. Butcould she divine a motive scarcely yet formed in my brain? Suddenly Ibecame cool, with craft to conceal.
"Oh, Russ! What's the matter with you?" she queried quickly. "Can'tDiane and Steele, you and I ride away from this bloody, bad country? Ourown lives, our happiness, come first, do they not?"
"They ought to, I suppose," I muttered, fighting against the insidioussweetness of her. I knew then I must keep my lips shut or betray myself.
"You look so strange. Russ, I wouldn't want you to kiss me with thatmouth. Thin, shut lips--smile! Soften and kiss me! Oh, you're so cold,strange! You chill me!"
"Dear child, I'm badly shaken," I said. "Don't expect me to be naturalyet. There are things you can't guess. So much depended upon--Oh, nevermind! I'll go now. I want to be alone, to think things out. Let me go,Sally."
She held me only the tighter, tried to pull my face around. Howintuitively keen women were. She felt my distress, and that growing,stern, and powerful thing I scarcely dared to acknowledge to myself.Strangely, then, I relaxed and faced her. There was no use trying tofoil these feminine creatures. Every second I seemed to grow fartherfrom her. The swiftness of this mood of mine was my only hope. Irealized I had to get away quickly, and make up my mind after that whatI intended to do. It was an earnest, soulful, and loving pair of eyesthat I met. What did she read in mine? Her hands left mine to slide tomy shoulders, to slip behind my neck, to l
ock there like steel bands.Here was my ordeal. Was it to be as terrible as Steele's had been? Ithought it would be, and I swore by all that was rising grim and cold inme that I would be strong. Sally gave a little cry that cut like a bladein my heart, and then she was close-pressed upon me, her quiveringbreast beating against mine, her eyes, dark as night now, searching mysoul.
She saw more than I knew, and with her convulsive clasp of me confirmedmy half-formed fears. Then she kissed me, kisses that had no more ofgirlhood or coquetry or joy or anything but woman's passion to blind andhold and tame. By their very intensity I sensed the tiger in me. And itwas the tiger that made her new and alluring sweetness fail of itsintent. I did not return one of her kisses. Just one kiss givenback--and I would be lost.
"Oh, Russ, I'm your promised wife!" she whispered at my lips. "Soon, yousaid! I want it to be soon! To-morrow!" All the subtlety, theintelligence, the cunning, the charm, the love that made up the whole ofwoman's power, breathed in her pleading. What speech known to the tonguecould have given me more torture? She chose the strongest weapon natureafforded her. And had the calamity to consider been mine alone, I wouldhave laughed at it and taken Sally at her word. Then I told her inshort, husky sentences what had depended on Steele: that I loved theRanger Service, but loved him more; that his character, his life,embodied this Service I loved; that I had ruined him; and now I wouldforestall him, do his work, force the issue myself or die in theattempt.
"Dearest, it's great of you!" she cried. "But the cost! If you kill oneof my kin I'll--I'll shrink from you! If you're killed--Oh, the thoughtis dreadful! You've done your share. Let Steele--some other Rangerfinish it. I swear I don't plead for my uncle or my cousin, for theirsakes. If they are vile, let them suffer. Russ, it's you I think of! Oh,my pitiful little dreams! I wanted so to surprise you with my beautifulhome--the oranges, the mossy trees, the mocking-birds. Now you'll never,never come!"
"But, Sally, there's a chance--a mere chance I can do the job without--"
Then she let go of me. She had given up. I thought she was going todrop, and drew her toward the stone. I cursed the day I ever saw Nealand the service. Where, now, was the arch prettiness, the gay, sweetcharm of Sally Langdon? She looked as if she were suffering from adesperate physical injury. And her final breakdown showed how, one wayor another, I was lost to her.
As she sank on the stone I had my supreme wrench, and it left me numb,hard, in a cold sweat. "Don't betray me! I'll forestall him! He'splanned nothing for to-day," I whispered hoarsely. "Sally--you dearest,gamest little girl in the world! Remember I loved you, even if Icouldn't prove it your way. It's for his sake. I'm to blame for theirlove. Some day my act will look different to you. Good-by!"
