Collected Works of Zane Grey

by Zane Grey

  Long and earnestly the other wild-horse hunters talked. It was an interesting evening round the camp fire. Sue, inspired by Jake’s kind words, deliberately sought out Ora Loughbridge and persistently made herself agreeable. At first Ora was stiff and what Chess had called snippy. But she was not proof against Sue’s kindliness, and gradually she thawed. Somehow during that hour Sue got an impression of Ora’s really deep attachment to Chess. She was about Chess’s age, and a romantic girl of strong emotions. Sue noted that Ora could scarcely keep her eyes from wandering in his direction, yet at the same time she was trying to hide her secret. Her state of mind seemed no longer trivial and amusing; indeed, Sue found that by exerting herself to be kind she had roused her own sympathy for the girl.

  Sue divided the mornings between her own tasks and helping her stepmother; in the afternoons she was free to idle or ride or read. The men had not yet completed their reconnaissance of the surrounding country, nor had her father hit upon a satisfactory plan to trap a large number of wild horses.

  The first frosts had begun to tint the foliage of the deciduous trees, and this added fresher beauty and contrast to the evergreens. The cottonwood grove was half gold, half green; the oak brush of the canyons began to take on a bronze and russet hue; the vines overgrowing the ledges of rock back of camp showed red against the gray; and up in the canyons bright spots of scarlet stood out strikingly.

  Sue liked colors. Blue was most becoming to her fair complexion and chestnut hair, but she was not partial to it. Red caught her eye, held her, thrilled her with something nameless, but it was purple which she loved. And it appeared that on the Indian summer afternoons the whole sweep of valley and stone barriers beyond slumbered under a haze of purple, ethereal and mysterious close at hand, dark and heavy and enveloping in the distance.

  The autumn season had halted for the present and all nature seemed to slumber. Even the birds showed the spell, banding in flocks, seldom taking wing, twittering plaintively. Down on the valley floor the wild horses moved almost imperceptibly.

  Sue rode far and high one afternoon, accompanied by Ora and Chess, who, however, were more concerned with other things than scenery or Indian summer. Chess had been complimented on his successful hunting and was eager to win more commendation. Ora was mostly concerned with Chess, and liked the hunting only because it furnished means to ride with him. They left Sue on a high open point, back of which was a big country of ridges and ravines, all thickly covered with brush and trees. Here the young hunters disappeared.

  Dismounting to await their return, Sue found a comfortable seat and gave herself up to the solitude and loneliness of the surrounding hills, and the wonder of the purple open beneath her. The cottonwood grove which hid the camp appeared a golden patch on the edge of the green valley; the wild horses were but dim specks; the valley itself was only an oval basin lost in a country as wide as the horizons.

  What lay and upreared and hid beyond that level rangeland was the thing which drew and chained Sue’s gaze. It was the canyon country of Utah. Long had she heard of it, and now it seemed to spread out before her, a vast shadowy region of rock — domes, spurs, peaks, bluffs, reaching escarpments, lines of cleavage, endless scalloped marching rocks; and rising grandly out of that chaos of colored rock the red-walled black-tipped flat-topped mountain that was Wild Horse Mesa. Here Sue could see a magnificent panorama of the canyon country, above which the great mesa towered a sentinel. If it had earned Sue’s interest from the valley far below, it now fascinated her. Indeed, the rock wilderness emphasized by this isolated tableland called forth feelings which were strange and unintelligible to Sue. Was it just the beauty, the loneliness, and the majesty of nature that had come to arrest her thought and trouble her soul? What was she going to meet out here in wild Utah? Of late her working hours, her idle hours, even her dreams, her walks and rides and rests, had been vaguely haunted by the shadow of a mood that did not wholly break upon her consciousness.

  “Something’s wrong,” sighed Sue, and her practical common sense did not drive away the conception. It was in the very solitude of her surroundings, and she could not grasp its meaning. But she divined that much as this new life in the open had come to mean, color and landscape and action, the fun afforded by the riders, and the interest of Ora’s love affair — these were not the secret of her subjection.

  At last Sue confessed to her heart that she must be in love. It was one of the most secret of confessions, one of dreams almost, unaccepted by intelligence. But as the vague idea grew it developed out of that deep unconscious sphere where she had hidden her girlish fancies and ideals. It became a thought, amazing, ridiculous, inconceivable. It could not be supported by any facts. With whom could she be in love? Not Chess or Utah or any of the riders! Could it be with herself or life or this magnificent wilderness, or the nature that brooded there so solemnly? Sue tried to recall the dream hero, knight, lover that had been an evolution of her fairy-tale days, but he did not suit her new and masterful image. The new one seemed like this country, hard, rough, wild, untamed, exacting, dominating.

  “But it’s only an idea!” burst out Sue, ashamed, astounded. Her cheeks were hot. Her blood ran strong from her heart. She felt it beat, beat, beat. Then there flashed into her mind what the boy Chess Weymer had said about his brother Chane; “You can’t help but love him!”

  Sue at once laughed away the absurdity of any connection between the boy’s loyal worship of his brother and her own undivined yearnings. Yet there was something, and to strike a compromise with herself she acknowledged that any girl would have an interest in this wild-horse hunter who had such a great love for his brother and called him Boy Blue. There was enough romance in any girl for that, and if not romance, then a mother feeling.

  “I’ve no work,” soliloquized Sue. “It’s this wandering, idle life, like an Indian’s. I think too much. But — there’s the other side to it. How beautiful the earth! I’ve learned to know the sunset, night, the stars, the moon, the sunrise, day — storm and cloud and rain, and now this purple summer. The birds, the animals — horses I love. I love the smell of the cedars, the pines, the earth, the grass. I love the feel of the rocks.... Oh, something has come into my life. There’s a step on my trail!”

  SUE waited long for Ora and Chess, and at length they appeared riding under the trees, close together, without any game. Sue had a suspicion that they were holding hands just as they rode out of the timber, but she could not be certain. A further glance told her that they were no longer quarreling, which had been decidedly the case on the way up. Sue mounted her pony and started down the winding descent of the ridge.

  About halfway down to camp, Ora and Chess caught up with her, and both appeared to overdo their excuses for such long absence.

  “Were you gone long?” inquired Sue. “I hadn’t noticed that.”

  Chess’s account of their hunt did not ring like those of former occasions, when he had found game. This time there was not a deer on the mountain-side.

  “My brave hunter boy, I’m sure you found one dear,” said Sue, tantalizingly. She felt a tiny feminine twinge of pique. Chess had not long resisted the propinquity of the other girl.

  “Aw, Sue, I reckon you are a lot older and wiser than me. There’s no fooling you,” declared Chess, half in regret and half resignedly.

  This allusion to her proudly maintained maturity did not please Sue. It was all right for her to think it, but for Chess to accept it all of a sudden somehow irritated Sue. But she reflected that she was in a strange mood and not so kindly disposed as usual. She decided to let them do the talking.

  Ora was overdoing it more than Chess. She was enthusiastic about the ride, and the canyon up there, and about a great deal in general, and nothing in particular. Ora’s big dark eyes were unusually bright, her cheeks were redder than seemed natural for slow riding, and her hair was disheveled. There was a singular radiance, a glow in her face, that contrasted markedly with the sullen shade which had characterized it rece
ntly. Sue concluded that this rascal Chess had really been making love to Ora.

  “Sue, isn’t it just perfectly gorgeous?” murmured Ora, dreamily.

  “What?” asked Sue, rather bluntly.

  “Oh, everything — the bright colors, the sweet, sleepy something, the horses, riding out this way, this camp life,” babbled Ora.

  “I think I know what you’re raving about, Ora,” replied Sue. “I’m glad you’ve come to feel it. Not long ago you were disgusted with the desert, Utah, wild horses, wranglers, and yourself.”

  “Yes, I know, Sue,” said Ora, somewhat dampened, “but I — I’m not now.”

  There appeared to be a humility in Ora, at this moment, that Sue had never observed before. It strengthened Sue’s conviction as to the cause. Then Chess, who was riding half a horse’s length behind Ora, caught Sue’s eye and winked mysteriously, with a hint of deviltry. Almost it seemed that he was telling Sue that if he could not have her he could have Ora. Sue flashed him a very scornful and accusing glance, and did not deign to notice him again. A little later, however, she could have laughed. She was beginning to understand why this boy’s brother believed he needed looking after.

  “Some stranger in camp,” spoke up Chess, quickly, as they rode into the back of the cottonwood grove. Whereupon he trotted on ahead of Sue and Ora. Sue sustained a little shock of excitement that made her conscious of her own interest in a strange rider. What if it might be Chane Weymer! She saw a muddy, weary pack horse sagging under a bedraggled pack. But trees obstructed her view of the rider.

  Ora headed her horse for the quarters of the Loughbridges and Sue turned for her tent. When she dismounted, Chess rode up at a lope and leaped off. One glance at his face told Sue that the newcomer was not Chane. Sue felt a sudden relief and vague disappointment! This annoyed her and made her resentful toward Chess.

  “Dog-gone — it! I thought maybe Chane had come and I’d get even with you,” said Chess as he began to unsaddle her horse.

  “Get even with me! What for?” queried Sue, exasperated.

  “Well, I reckon I’d call it lack of reci-pro-city,” declared Chess, cheerfully.

  “Chess, you’re not very witty... and please explain how the possible arrival of your brother would enable you to get even with me, as you call it.”

  “You’re sure likely to fall in love head over heels, and you might get the cold shoulder, as I got it.”

  “Chess, you’re adding rudeness to your many other faults,” retorted Sue, haughtily.

  “Aw, Sue, I beg pardon,” said Chess, contritely, as he slid her saddle and blankets to the ground. “I’m only sore. But I’ll get over it.... And listen. Chane’d never give you a cold shoulder. Now remember what I tell you. He’ll fall terribly in love with you.”

  Suddenly a hot blush burned Sue’s neck and face. Ashamed, furious with her ungovernable and conflicting emotions, she turned away from Chess.

  “Don’t talk — non-nonsense,” she replied, hastily. “Who is the stranger?”

  “When I saw he wasn’t Chane I just rode back,” returned Chess. “But soon as I ‘tend to the horses I’ll find out for you.”

  Chess mounted and went off whistling, leading Sue’s mount toward Ora’s tent. Sue kicked off her spurs and chaps and went inside her tent to change her masculine garb. It might have been that she paid the least bit more attention than usual to her appearance. Still, though she liked the more serviceable and comfortable garb of men for riding or roughing it, she had always, when possible, given preference to feminine dress. Sue sat down to await the supper call, quite aware of an eager appetite, which, however, did not prevent her from reflection. Presently there came a rustling footfall outside.

  “Sue, I yelled once supper is ready,” called Chess. “I’ll bet my horse to your spurs that you’ve been doing the same as Ora.”

  “What’s that?” asked Sue, as she spread the flaps of her tent and came forth.

  “Aw, Sue!” he ejaculated, staring at her. His handsome boyish face expressed both delight and regret. “I never saw you — so — so sweet.... All for the benefit of the stranger! Ora primped up, too. Sue, you women are all alike.”

  “Why, of course! Aren’t men all alike?” returned Sue, archly.

  “Not by a darn sight,” he denied, “and you’ll find out some day.”

  “Well, who’s the stranger?” demanded Sue, with undue interest, just to torment Chess.

  “Ahuh! Well, his name’s Manerube — Bent Manerube. How’s that for a handle? He’s a horse-wrangler from Nevada. Husky, good-looking chap. He’s just in from the Piute country, across the canyons. Sure looked like he’d been riding rough.”

  “That’s the country I saw today from up high. Wild Horse Mesa! He can tell us about it, can’t he?”

  “I reckon. But see here, Sue,” went on Chess, and as he faced about to walk with her toward the camp fire he took her arm gently and firmly. “Don’t forget you’re to be Chane’s sweetheart — and my sister.”

  “Little Boy Blue, I’ll not be won by proxy,” rejoined Sue.

  Whereupon he let go her arm and maintained a rather lofty silence. Sue stole a glance at him out of the tail of her eye. His face seemed different, somehow. Then they reached the camp fire and the supper table. Manifestly the men were all waiting.

  “Hello, lass!” called her father. “Shore you an’ Ora have held up the festal board.... Sue, meet Mr. Benton Manerube of Nevada. — This’s my daughter. Now, everybody, let’s eat.”

  Sue saw a tall man standing beside her father and she bowed in acknowledgment of the introduction. He had gleaming eyes that seemed to leap at sight of her and absorb her. Sue dropped her own. Chess, as usual, was promptly on hand with a seat for her and Ora; and in a moment they were supplied with bountifully laden plates.

  “Sue, isn’t he handsome?” whispered Ora.

  “Who?” queried Sue.

  “Mr. Manerube, of course. Did you think I meant Chess?”

  “Why, I hadn’t noticed.”

  “Well, he’s noticed you, and I’m jealous,” declared Ora.

  “Yes, you acted like it on the ride back to camp.... But I’m hungry.”

  Some moments later Sue covertly stole a glance at the newcomer, who sat opposite, between her father and Loughbridge. Ora had not been mistaken about the man’s looks, despite a discolored bruise on his face. His hair glinted in the sunset glow, and his complexion, though browned by exposure, was still so fair that it made the other riders look like Indians.

  Sue, perhaps following Ora’s example, rather prolonged the eating of her supper. One by one the riders got up from round the tarpaulin tablecloth and clinked away to the tasks necessary before dark. Chess remained sitting cross-legged beside Ora, while Jake, always helpful, began to gather up the plates and cups. Sue’s father, having finished his supper, rose to his feet and threw some wood on the fire. Loughbridge got up and said something in a low tone to Melberne. They were both interested in the newcomer. Naturally this quickened Sue’s perceptions. Finally Manerube stood up, showing the superb figure of a rider and the worn, soiled garb of one who had surely been in contact with hard country. He wore a belt which swung low on his right hip with the weight of a gun. His blouse was a heavy checkered woolen garment, made by the Mormons, Sue thought, and as he wore no coat or vest, his broad shoulders and deep chest showed strikingly. His unshaven beard, of days’ growth, was so fair that it did not detract from the fresh ruddy virility of his face.

  “I sure was starved,” he remarked, in a deep voice with a pleasant ring. “No grub for a week, except with Indians. Reckon I could bless your womenfolk, Melberne.”

  “Shore, I’ve been hungry,” replied Melberne, heartily. “You looked fagged. An’ Alonzo said your horses were ready to drop. Where you bound?”

  “Well, nowhere in particular,” replied Manerube, slowly. “I was disappointed in my errand across the rivers. Fellow got ahead of me, buying horses from the Piutes. Reckon I’ll tie up with the fi
rst wrangler outfit in need of a good rider.”

  “Ahuh! Do you know this wild-horse game?” asked Melberne, quickly.

  Manerube uttered a short laugh. “Do I? Well, Melberne, I reckon so.”

  At this juncture Sue noted how Chess sat up, after the manner of a listening jack rabbit. Sue appreciated her own little thrill of interest. What assurance this rider had!

  “Have you ever caught wild horses in large numbers, so they could be shipped unbroken?” went on Melberne.

  “I’m the man who started that game,” replied Manerube. “Shipped three thousand for Saunders last year.”

  “Saunders? Do you mean the Mormon cattleman?” asked Loughbridge.

  “Jim Saunders of Salt Lake. He brought me over from Nevada. I was with his Kanab outfit.”

  “Mel, I’m thinkin’ Manerube is the wrangler we’re after,” added Loughbridge, turning to his partner. “Let’s give him charge of our outfit.”

  “Shore,” rejoined Melberne, quick to respond. “Manerube, if you’ll hang up heah we’ll pay you top wages, with a per cent of our profits.”

  “Glad to help you out,” said Manerube, with a wave of his hand, as if success was assured. “Who’re your riders?”

  Melberne enumerated and named them, as he knew them, by their first names.

  “You’re forgettin’ Alonzo,” interposed Loughbridge.

  “Alonzo. Is he a Mexican, a half-breed vaquero, catches wild horses alone?” asked Manerube, quickly.

  “Yes, we have him,” replied Melberne.

  “Know of him. Great wrangler, they say,” returned Manerube, thoughtfully. “But I reckon I never saw him.... Well, you’ve hardly got enough good riders to handle big bunches of horses. Perhaps the young ladies could help?”

  Manerube, while talking, had not been unaware of the presence of Sue and Ora, and now he launched this query at them as well as their fathers.

  “Oh, you’re not serious?” exclaimed Ora.

  “Never more serious in my life,” replied Manerube, with a winning smile. “Can you ride? I don’t mean like a cowboy, but well enough to ride fast and hard.”