Collected Works of Zane Grey

by Zane Grey

  “Mr. Belding, I certainly would prefer a conference with you right now,” interposed the elder Chase, cutting short Belding’s strange speech. “There are other matters — important matters to discuss. They’ve got to be settled. May we step in, sir?”

  “No, you may not,” replied Belding, bluntly. “I’m sure particular who I invite into my house. But I’ll go with you.”

  Belding stepped out and closed the door. “Come away from the house so the women won’t hear the — the talk.”

  The elder Chase was purple with rage, yet seemed to be controlling it. The younger man looked black, sullen, impatient. He appeared not to have a thought of Belding. He was absolutely blind to the situation, as considered from Belding’s point of view. Ben Chase found his voice about the time Belding halted under the trees out of earshot from the house.

  “Sir, you’ve insulted me — my son. How dare you? I want you to understand that you’re—”

  “Chop that kind of talk with me, you —— —— —— —— —— —— !” interrupted Belding. He had always been profane, and now he certainly did not choose his language. Chase turned livid, gasped, and seemed about to give way to fury. But something about Belding evidently exerted a powerful quieting influence. “If you talk sense I’ll listen,” went on Belding.

  Belding was frankly curious. He did not think any argument or inducement offered by Chase could change his mind on past dealings or his purpose of the present. But he believed by listening he might get some light on what had long puzzled him. The masterly effort Chase put forth to conquer his aroused passions gave Belding another idea of the character of this promoter.

  “I want to make a last effort to propitiate you,” began Chase, in his quick, smooth voice. That was a singular change to Belding — the dropping instantly into an easy flow of speech. “You’ve had losses here, and naturally you’re sore. I don’t blame you. But you can’t see this thing from my side of the fence. Business is business. In business the best man wins. The law upheld those transactions of mine the honesty of which you questioned. As to mining and water claims, you lost on this technical point — that you had nothing to prove you had held them for five years. Five years is the time necessary in law. A dozen men might claim the source of Forlorn River, but if they had no house or papers to prove their squatters’ rights any man could go in and fight them for the water. .... Now I want to run that main ditch along the river, through your farm. Can’t we make a deal? I’m ready to be liberal — to meet you more than halfway. I’ll give you an interest in the company. I think I’ve influence enough up at the Capitol to have you reinstated as inspector. A little reasonableness on your part will put you right again in Forlorn River, with a chance of growing rich. There’s a big future here.... My interest, Belding, has become personal. Radford is in love with your step-daughter. He wants to marry her. I’ll admit now if I had foreseen this situation I wouldn’t have pushed you so hard. But we can square the thing. Now let’s get together not only in business, but in a family way. If my son’s happiness depends upon having this girl, you may rest assured I’ll do all I can to get her for him. I’ll absolutely make good all your losses. Now what do you say?”

  “No,” replied Belding. “Your money can’t buy a right of way across my ranch. And Nell doesn’t want your son. That settles that.”

  “But you could persuade her.”

  “I won’t, that’s all.”

  “May I ask why?” Chases’s voice was losing its suave quality, but it was even swifter than before.

  “Sure. I don’t mind your asking,” replied Belding in slow deliberation. “I wouldn’t do such a low-down trick. Besides, if I would, I’d want it to be a man I was persuading for. I know Greasers — I know a Yaqui I’d rather give Nell to than your son.”

  Radford Chase began to roar in inarticulate rage. Belding paid no attention to him; indeed, he never glanced at the young man. The elder Chase checked a violent start. He plucked at the collar of his gray flannel shirt, opened it at the neck.

  “My son’s offer of marriage is an honor — more an honor, sir, than you perhaps are aware of.”

  Belding made no reply. His steady gaze did not turn from the long lane that led down to the river. He waited coldly, sure of himself.

  “Mrs. Belding’s daughter has no right to the name of Burton,” snapped Chase. “Did you know that?”

  “I did not,” replied Belding, quietly.

  “Well, you know it now,” added Chase, bitingly.

  “Sure you can prove what you say?” queried Belding, in the same cool, unemotional tone. It struck him strangely at the moment what little knowledge this man had of the West and of Western character.

  “Prove it? Why, yes, I think so, enough to make the truth plain to any reasonable man. I come from Peoria — was born and raised there. I went to school with Nell Warren. That was your wife’s maiden name. She was a beautiful, gay girl. All the fellows were in love with her. I knew Bob Burton well. He was a splendid fellow, but wild. Nobody ever knew for sure, but we all supposed he was engaged to marry Nell. He left Peoria, however, and soon after that the truth about Nell came out. She ran away. It was at least a couple of months before Burton showed up in Peoria. He did not stay long. Then for years nothing was heard of either of them. When word did come Nell was in Oklahoma, Burton was in Denver. There’s chance, of course, that Burton followed Nell and married her. That would account for Nell Warren taking the name of Burton. But it isn’t likely. None of us ever heard of such a thing and wouldn’t have believed it if we had. The affair seemed destined to end unfortunately. But Belding, while I’m at it, I want to say that Nell Warren was one of the sweetest, finest, truest girls in the world. If she drifted to the Southwest and kept her past a secret that was only natural. Certainly it should not be held against her. Why, she was only a child — a girl — seventeen — eighteen years old.... In a moment of amazement — when I recognized your wife as an old schoolmate — I blurted the thing out to Radford. You see now how little it matters to me when I ask your stepdaughter’s hand in marriage for my son.”

  Belding stood listening. The genuine emotion in Chase’s voice was as strong as the ring of truth. Belding knew truth when he heard it. The revelation did not surprise him. Belding did not soften, for he devined that Chase’s emotion was due to the probing of an old wound, the recalling of a past both happy and painful. Still, human nature was so strange that perhaps kindness and sympathy might yet have a place in this Chase’s heart. Belding did not believe so, but he was willing to give Chase the benefit of the doubt.

  “So you told my wife you’d respect her secret — keep her dishonor from husband and daughter?” demanded Belding, his dark gaze sweeping back from the lane.

  “What! I — I” stammered Chase.

  “You made your son swear to be a man and die before he’d hint the thing to Nell?” went on Belding, and his voice rang louder.

  Ben Chase had no answer. The red left his face. His son slunk back against the fence.

  “I say you never held this secret over the heads of my wife and her daughter?” thundered Belding.

  He had his answer in the gray faces, in the lips that fear made mute. Like a flash Belding saw the whole truth of Mrs. Belding’s agony, the reason for her departure; he saw what had been driving Nell; and it seemed that all the dogs of hell were loosed within his heart. He struck out blindly, instinctively in his pain, and the blow sent Ben Chase staggering into the fence corner. Then he stretched forth a long arm and whirled Radford Chase back beside his father.

  “I see it all now,” went on Belding, hoarsely. “You found the woman’s weakness — her love for the girl. You found the girl’s weakness — her pride and fear of shame. So you drove the one and hounded the other. God, what a base thing to do! To tell the girl was bad enough, but to threaten her with betrayal; there’s no name for that!”

  Belding’s voice thickened, and he paused, breathing heavily. He stepped back a few paces; and this, an
ominous action for an armed man of his kind, instead of adding to the fear of the Chases, seemed to relieve them. If there had been any pity in Belding’s heart he would have felt it then.

  “And now, gentlemen,” continued Belding, speaking low and with difficulty, “seeing I’ve turned down your proposition, I suppose you think you’ve no more call to keep your mouths shut?”

  The elder Chase appeared fascinated by something he either saw or felt in Belding, and his gray face grew grayer. He put up a shaking hand. Then Radford Chase, livid and snarling, burst out: “I’ll talk till I’m black in the face. You can’t stop me!”

  “You’ll go black in the face, but it won’t be from talking,” hissed Belding.

  His big arm swept down, and when he threw it up the gun glittered in his hand. Simultaneously with the latter action pealed out a shrill, penetrating whistle.

  The whistle of a horse! It froze Belding’s arm aloft. For an instant he could not move even his eyes. The familiarity of that whistle was terrible in its power to rob him of strength. Then he heard the rapid, heavy pound of hoofs, and again the piercing whistle.

  “Blanco Diablo!” he cried, huskily.

  He turned to see a huge white horse come thundering into the yard. A wild, gaunt, terrible horse; indeed, the loved Blanco Diablo. A bronzed, long-haired Indian bestrode him. More white horses galloped into the yard, pounded to a halt, whistling home. Belding saw a slim shadow of a girl who seemed all great black eyes.

  Under the trees flashed Blanco Sol, as dazzling white, as beautiful as if he had never been lost in the desert. He slid to a halt, then plunged and stamped. His rider leaped, throwing the bridle. Belding saw a powerful, spare, ragged man, with dark, gaunt face and eyes of flame.

  Then Nell came running from the house, her golden hair flying, her hands outstretched, her face wonderful.

  “Dick! Dick! Oh-h-h, Dick!” she cried. Her voice seemed to quiver in Belding’s heart.

  Belding’s eyes began to blur. He was not sure he saw clearly. Whose face was this now close before him — a long thin, shrunken face, haggard, tragic in its semblance of torture, almost of death? But the eyes were keen and kind. Belding thought wildly that they proved he was not dreaming.

  “I shore am glad to see you all,” said a well-remembered voice in a slow, cool drawl.

  CHAPTER XVIII

  REALITY AGAINST DREAMS

  LADD, LASH, THORNE, Mercedes, they were all held tight in Belding’s arms. Then he ran to Blanco Diablo. For once the great horse was gentle, quiet, glad. He remembered this kindest of masters and reached for him with warm, wet muzzle.

  Dick Gale was standing bowed over Nell’s slight form, almost hidden in his arms. Belding hugged them both. He was like a boy. He saw Ben Chase and his son slip away under the trees, but the circumstances meant nothing to him then.

  “Dick! Dick!” he roared. “Is it you?... Say, who do you think’s here — here, in Forlorn River?”

  Gale gripped Belding with a hand as rough and hard as a file and as strong as a vise. But he did not speak a word. Belding thought Gale’s eyes would haunt him forever.

  It was then three more persons came upon the scene — Elsie Gale, running swiftly, her father assisting Mrs. Gale, who appeared about to faint.

  “Belding! Who on earth’s that?” cried Dick hoarsely.

  “Quien sabe, my son,” replied Belding; and now his voice seemed a little shaky. “Nell, come here. Give him a chance.”

  Belding slipped his arm round Nell, and whispered in her ear. “This ‘ll be great!”

  Elsie Gale’s face was white and agitated, a face expressing extreme joy.

  “Oh, brother! Mama saw you — Papa saw you, and never knew you! But I knew you when you jumped quick — that way — off your horse. And now I don’t know you. You wild man! You giant! You splendid barbarian!... Mama, Papa, hurry! It is Dick! Look at him. Just look at him! Oh-h, thank God!”

  Belding turned away and drew Nell with him. In another second she and Mercedes were clasped in each other’s arms. Then followed a time of joyful greetings all round.

  The Yaqui stood leaning against a tree watching the welcoming home of the lost. No one seemed to think of him, until Belding, ever mindful of the needs of horses, put a hand on Blanco Diablo and called to Yaqui to bring the others. They led the string of whites down to the barn, freed them of wet and dusty saddles and packs, and turned them loose in the alfalfa, now breast-high. Diablo found his old spirit; Blanco Sol tossed his head and whistled his satisfaction; White Woman pranced to and fro; and presently they all settled down to quiet grazing. How good it was for Belding to see those white shapes against the rich background of green! His eyes glistened. It was a sight he had never expected to see again. He lingered there many moments when he wanted to hurry back to his rangers.

  At last he tore himself away from watching Blanco Diablo and returned to the house. It was only to find that he might have spared himself the hurry. Jim and Ladd were lying on the beds that had not held them for so many months. Their slumber seemed as deep and quiet as death. Curiously Belding gazed down upon them. They had removed only boots and chaps. Their clothes were in tatters. Jim appeared little more than skin and bones, a long shape, dark and hard as iron. Ladd’s appearance shocked Belding. The ranger looked an old man, blasted, shriveled, starved. Yet his gaunt face, though terrible in its records of tortures, had something fine and noble, even beautiful to Belding, in its strength, its victory.

  Thorne and Mercedes had disappeared. The low murmur of voices came from Mrs. Gale’s room, and Belding concluded that Dick was still with his family. No doubt he, also, would soon seek rest and sleep. Belding went through the patio and called in at Nell’s door. She was there sitting by her window. The flush of happiness had not left her face, but she looked stunned, and a shadow of fear lay dark in her eyes. Belding had intended to talk. He wanted some one to listen to him. The expression in Nell’s eyes, however, silenced him. He had forgotten. Nell read his thought in his face, and then she lost all her color and dropped her head. Belding entered, stood beside her with a hand on hers. He tried desperately hard to think of the right thing to say, and realized so long as he tried that he could not speak at all.

  “Nell — Dick’s back safe and sound,” he said, slowly. “That’s the main thing. I wish you could have seen his eyes when he held you in his arms out there.... Of course, Dick’s coming knocks out your trip East and changes plans generally. We haven’t had the happiest time lately. But now it’ll be different. Dick’s as true as a Yaqui. He’ll chase that Chase fellow, don’t mistake me.... Then mother will be home soon. She’ll straighten out this — this mystery. And Nell — however it turns out — I know Dick Gale will feel just the same as I feel. Brace up now, girl.”

  Belding left the patio and traced thoughtful steps back toward the corrals. He realized the need of his wife. If she had been at home he would not have come so close to killing two men. Nell would never have fallen so low in spirit. Whatever the real truth of the tragedy of his wife’s life, it would not make the slightest difference to him. What hurt him was the pain mother and daughter had suffered, were suffering still. Somehow he must put an end to that pain.

  He found the Yaqui curled up in a corner of the barn in as deep a sleep as that of the rangers. Looking down at him, Belding felt again the rush of curious thrilling eagerness to learn all that had happened since the dark night when Yaqui had led the white horses away into the desert. Belding curbed his impatience and set to work upon tasks he had long neglected. Presently he was interrupted by Mr. Gale, who came out, beside himself with happiness and excitement. He flung a hundred questions at Belding and never gave him time to answer one, even if that had been possible. Finally, when Mr. Gale lost his breath, Belding got a word in. “See here, Mr. Gale, you know as much as I know. Dick’s back. They’re all back — a hard lot, starved, burned, torn to pieces, worked out to the limit I never saw in desert travelers, but they’re alive — alive and well, man! J
ust wait. Just gamble I won’t sleep or eat till I hear that story. But they’ve got to sleep and eat.”

  Belding gathered with growing amusement that besides the joy, excitement, anxiety, impatience expressed by Mr. Gale there was something else which Belding took for pride. It pleased him. Looking back, he remembered some of the things Dick had confessed his father thought of him. Belding’s sympathy had always been with the boy. But he had learned to like the old man, to find him kind and wise, and to think that perhaps college and business had not brought out the best in Richard Gale. The West had done that, however, as it had for many a wild youngster; and Belding resolved to have a little fun at the expense of Mr. Gale. So he began by making a few remarks that appeared to rob Dick’s father of both speech and breath.

  “And don’t mistake me,” concluded Belding, “just keep out of earshot when Laddy tells us the story of that desert trip, unless you’re hankering to have your hair turn pure white and stand curled on end and freeze that way.”

  About the middle of the forenoon on the following day the rangers hobbled out of the kitchen to the porch.

  “I’m a sick man, I tell you,” Ladd was complaining, “an’ I gotta be fed. Soup! Beef tea! That ain’t so much as wind to me. I want about a barrel of bread an’ butter, an’ a whole platter of mashed potatoes with gravy an’ green stuff — all kinds of green stuff — an’ a whole big apple pie. Give me everythin’ an’ anythin’ to eat but meat. Shore I never, never want to taste meat again, an’ sight of a piece of sheep meat would jest about finish me.... Jim, you used to be a human bein’ that stood up for Charlie Ladd.”

  “Laddy, I’m lined up beside you with both guns,” replied Jim, plaintively. “Hungry? Say, the smell of breakfast in that kitchen made my mouth water so I near choked to death. I reckon we’re gettin’ most onhuman treatment.”

  “But I’m a sick man,” protested Ladd, “an’ I’m agoin’ to fall over in a minute if somebody doesn’t feed me. Nell, you used to be fond of me.”