Collected Works of Zane Grey

by Zane Grey

  At first sight Lincoln had failed to notice several ranches dotting the valley along the Sweetwater directly in his line of vision. A white house stood out distinctly in the midst of a vast green patch; and beyond that, at long intervals, other dark spots and dots indicated other ranches down the valley. On this side of the river thousands of cattle speckled the sage.

  The whole effect was magnificent in the extreme. Lincoln was at a loss for words as he stood there in the presence of the girl, who was quietly waiting for him to speak. Almost any locality in the West might have been as vivid and striking. But this valley appealed to him strongly beyond any point inspired by sentiment. Lincoln would have to live in this country for a good while before he could fully appreciate why it silenced and inspired him. But the great open range, bare under the blue sky and bright sun, the winding ribbon of green and silver, the endless carpet of sage, the mosaic of colors, the somber grandeur of the carved escarpments, and the snow-white peaks far beyond, rising like sky specters — all these combined to fill the man who was seeing them for the first time with a deep feeling of loneliness. Long and silently he gazed into that enchanting valley sculptured out of the rugged range. Almost reluctantly he turned away from it to face Lucy’s wistful gaze.

  “Do you like it?” she asked hesitatingly.

  “I feel bewitched,” he replied. “As I was looking across that valley I thought what a pity such a beautiful place with such a pretty name must harbor hate, greed, bloodshed!”

  “I have thought that often. But it is men, not nature,” said Lucy, bitterly.

  “Don’t blame it all on the men. Women are usually around too, where there’s trouble.”

  “Linc, I should have said women and men. God knows, I’ve no reason to be proud of my sex.”

  “Lucy, I was just poking fun,” protested the cowboy. He already had noted how swift were her changes of mood. She looked happy only when she smiled. And she had not laughed once. “Which ranch is yours?”

  “Follow the road straight down. The white ranch house. It’s pretty from here, but nothing to brag of down there. Logs and mud and whitewash.”

  “Have you comfortable quarters?”

  “Oh, yes, except in winter, when I almost sit in my open fireplace. It’s cold on this range. Fifty below zero sometimes. And colder up here on the Pass. Men have been found frozen to death.”

  “I’ll bet a blizzard here would be hell.... Lucy, this sight does me good. It must be wonderful up where that river starts in the mountains.”

  “Glorious. I’ve been there twice, the last time in June, just about this time of the month. I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to build a cabin and live there always.”

  “Why?”

  “Oh, it had everything I love. Far away, lonesome, only a few Shoshone Indians — elk and deer, moose and antelope tame as cows. Birds and flowers. Meadows of sage and grass — little patches of forest — then the foothills, the belts of black timber, beyond them the great country of rocks and cliffs and canyons. And last, the wonderful peaks, always snow-white.”

  “Sounds just about ideal. But you didn’t mention fish.”

  “Oh, you are a fisherman, too! I’ll bet I can beat you. The Sweetwater is full of trout up there. Long as your arm, some of them. And fight!...”

  “Listen, child. The girl doesn’t live in all this West who can beat me fishing.”

  “It’s a challenge. Only I haven’t much to bet.”

  “You have all that any man would want to ride a chariot race for.”

  “You are a new kind of cowboy to me. Pretty speeches. But I like them —— But — Oh! I forgot! I forgot!”

  “What?” he asked, alarmed by her tone of distress.

  “We won’t be able to ride together — or go fishing — or anything.”

  “And why not?”

  She was silent a moment, then turned to him, suddenly older, more constrained, with the sweet lips set sternly and her eyes veiled. Suddenly her tone was serious.

  “Lincoln, you said this morning that you had come on a rather grim errand. How did you know where to come?”

  “Jimmy’s letters. I’ll let you read them. News of his death. And the stigma left on his name.... Jimmy was weak, but he was honest. He couldn’t cheat. Drunk or sober he never had a crooked thought. He might have been shot in a brawl at a card table. But never for cheating. I’m as sure as I stand here that he was murdered. And I’ve come out here to find out — to clear his name, at least.”

  “Jim said if anything happened to him you would come out here and kill everyone who...”

  “Lucy, what would you think if I allowed Jim’s murderer to go scot free?” he demanded.

  “Revenge can’t bring Jim back.”

  “No! — But I’d have no self-respect left if I didn’t avenge my partner. I grew up in a hard school. I loved Jim. I’ll always regret that I didn’t come with him. He might be alive today if I had. All I can do now is get even.”

  “They will kill you,” she cried, with a catch in her voice.

  “Who are they?”

  “Emery and his outfit. They’ll do it while you sleep.”

  “Lucy, I don’t sleep when someone’s gunning for me,” he said, quietly.

  “But, you have to sleep,” she protested. “I’m from the West. I understand. You might be another Wild Bill, as no doubt you really are another Cole Younger. I heard what you did last night. But these men will not meet you openly. They’ll assassinate you, Lincoln. There are I don’t know how many low-down dogs at Emery’s beck and call. They would knife or shoot you for two bits.”

  Lincoln was amazed by her eloquence, by the dark fire in her eyes and the pallor of her cheeks. “Why do you feel so deeply?” he asked.

  “You were Jim’s friend and therefore you are mine. I — I don’t want you to be killed.”

  “Well, that makes my life doubly precious,” said Bradway. “And it was fairly precious before.... But why do you think Emery’s outfit is on my trail? Because I cleaned him at cards?”

  “Oh, it has happened before, with far less reason.... Lincoln, I must tell you all I da — all I can.... Last night at the hotel, I heard Aunt Kit cursing Emery. They were in her room, which was next to mine. McKeever is being cared for there. He has a broken shoulder.... Well, my aunt and Emery had been talking too low for me to tell what they said, until they began to quarrel. Kit said: ‘I won’t let you shoot Bradway!’ and Emery swore: ‘You can go to hell, Kit. This cowboy is dangerous. He’s got to be put out of the way. The letters he bragged about — from Weston. We can’t afford to have him on this range with those letters in his possession. You ought to have sense enough to see that!’ and my aunt swore back at him. ‘. . . I have. And I’ll get those letters. You leave Bradway to me....’ ‘By God!’ burst out Emery, in a fury. ‘You’ve cocked your eye at another cowboy. What the hell do you care for Weston or letters or anything when there’s a handsome new cowboy to tickle your miserable vanity? I tell you we’ve got to kill Bradway!’?”

  Lincoln was more concerned with the girl’s sweet voice, her earnestness, her beauty, the anxiety which her face betrayed, than with the foreboding conversation which she had overheard and just now repeated.

  “So, that’s why?... Lucy, it might barely have been possible for you to persuade me to run away. But not now.”

  “And why not now?” she wanted to know.

  Linc looked out into the gray-blue void, without seeing any of the features that before had enthralled him. Suddenly he realized what it had cost this western girl to tell him what she had. She had cast her lot with him, a stranger, just as surely as he had already involved his life with hers.

  “Lucy, suppose I fell in love with you at first sight?” he asked, simply.

  She gave a little cry, and suddenly sat down, as if her limbs had grown weak. Linc expected protestation, even ridicule, anything but silence.

  Probably this revelation of his was nothing new to her — a pretty girl in this w
orld of men must be able to read a man’s mind.

  “Same old story, eh?” he asked.

  “Yes, always the same — with cowboys. It seems so easy for a man to say — and do,” she replied sadly. “With a girl — it’s different.”

  “I’ll admit that it couldn’t be as easy for you to fall in love with me as it was for me to fall in love with you. Is it a crime to fall in love, Lucy?”

  “I thought you were different,” said the girl, looking down at her hands.

  “I am a man.”

  “But you are — you came to kill a man. You—”

  “After all, I am only human, Lucy. I have known you only a few hours except for Jim’s letters. But is there any reason why I shouldn’t fall in love with you?”

  “Forgive me, Lincoln. I didn’t mean to hurt you. Only it hurts me to think — to think you take love so — so lightly — as lightly as you take a human life.... Even if it were true — that — that you care — it will not keep you from—”

  “From what?” he interrupted, turning to lift her erect. His hands gripped her arms; his sudden intensity startled her.

  “Why, from what a girl hates,” she burst out, her lovely face becoming suffused with red from neck to temple.

  “You don’t mean gambling, drinking, or even throwing a gun in self-defense or in a good cause? You have something else in mind. Tell me! What have I done or what am I doing that a girl like you hates, Lucy?” He released her arms and caught the lapels of her jacket, to draw her closer.

  “It wouldn’t keep you from her. It didn’t keep Jim,” she returned, with bitterness.

  “From whom?” he demanded mercilessly.

  “Oh, you know! From her!”

  “Do you really hate her, Lucy, your aunt?” he asked gently. “There must be a good reason for a sweet girl like you to hate another woman.”

  “Oh, I do — I do!... I used to love her. She was good and kind to me until we came to this wild country. She can be so lovely. She is so fascinating. No one can help loving her.... But when she took Jimmy — ruined him — I — I just had to hate her.”

  “All right. Granted Kit Bandon is an irresistible woman. You can keep me from her. Do you want to?”

  She swayed for a moment into his arms then and her head found his shoulder. But she resisted her weakness and stood back to gaze up at him, tears giving her eyes a soft and tender light. “Yes, I want to, Linc, more than anything ever in my life, before. Even more than I wanted to save Jimmy!... But a girl can’t give her trust or her love the way she’d give her glove — Oh, I feel how it’d be with me. And if you failed me, too, as he did — that would kill me.... Lincoln, I’m so weak, and she’s so strong. She just has to crook her finger. And the men — she’ll want to use you the same way.” She had her hands up to her face, crying bitterly.

  “You’ve had a rotten deal, Lucy. But I’m going to try to make up for it. Here you are, my dear. Wipe your tears on this handkerchief, the only white handkerchief I could find in the store this morning. I’m pretty disgusted with myself for upsetting you the way I have. I’m not very clever with girls.” To marshal his confused senses he said quickly, “Here, wait, while I go look for Vince.”

  Lincoln strode away, his thoughts in a whirl. Jimmy must indeed have made this girl believe in him, and her disappointment over the cowboy’s dereliction had left her at once defenseless and disillusioned in regard to men. He must not take advantage of her willingness to trust him, at least until he was sure of himself, sure he could do something worthy of her admiration, even — of her love.

  Outside the zone of rocks and trees Lincoln scanned the gray expanse back toward South Pass. There was no horseman in sight. Vince probably was loitering along below the crest of the ridge. Hurrying back to Lucy he found her sitting on a low rock ledge staring down into the valley.

  “Lucy, have I upset you? Please tell me.” Linc was on tenterhooks.

  “I’m afraid you have,” she said. “You disturb me so I can’t think.”

  “So I’m a disturbing person?”

  “You are, indeed.”

  “Gosh, I didn’t know I was as disagreeable as that,” he replied ruefully.

  “Did I say — disagreeable?” She averted her face and stood up, drawing on her worn gauntlets.

  “Lucy, you’ve been seeing only the dark, hard side of everything,” he said, earnestly. “Really there is a brighter one. This is a tough time for you — and for me. Probably things’ll grow worse before they can get better. But you’re a spunky girl — as you very plainly showed me down in South Pass this morning. You don’t have to stay with your aunt if it’s hard for you—”

  “Oh, Lincoln, somehow you give me hope... even if I haven’t told you everything—”

  “Sure. I savvied that. You have a sense of duty and honor if some other people haven’t. Vince is in the same fix. He couldn’t tell me much either. Well, you needn’t tell me anything you think oughtn’t be told. I’ll find out what I can for myself.... You’re no tenderfoot. You’re a real game western girl. If I had come out here before Jim — before it was too late, I’d have fought his battle and yours. Now I have only yours.”

  “I — I think I’ll go now, Linc — before I make a baby of myself.”

  “You’ll see me again?” he asked, almost pleadingly.

  “Yes. Any time and any place. She can’t stop me this time.”

  “Of course you ride often?”

  “Half the time. We have no cowboys right now. I ride around a good deal, trying to keep track of stock. But it drifts all over the valley.”

  “Well! A cowgirl! I’ll bet you’re the real thing.... You can meet me without trouble, then. Could you see smoke signals from this point?”

  “Yes, easily on clear days.”

  “Say on the third morning from this. That will be Wednesday. Look for smoke after breakfast. But don’t take any risks.... I might not be able to come. There’s much for me to do.”

  “I drive Aunt Kit to town every Saturday morning. Usually she sends me back home, like today. Then she comes back on the stage, or with someone, on Monday. So really I lead a free and lonesome life.”

  “No cowboys waylaying you?” he demanded.

  “Oh, that happens. But I have sharp eyes. And the only horse in the valley that can catch me is Vince’s Brick.”

  “Golly, I should have kept him instead of Bay.... Well, I’ll see you on Wednesday, or if not, then in town next Saturday. It’s a long time for me to wait. I hope you’ll know by then whether you — like me or not. But don’t worry, I can wait and I can take care of myself. And I’ve a thousand times more to live for now than ever.”

  Lucy played with the fringe on one of her gauntlets. The color slowly mounted, leaving her face pink under her tan. “I’ll be looking for smoke on Wednesday,” she said.

  They returned to the buckboard. Lincoln untied the horses while Lucy climbed over the high wheel to take up the reins. Then the Nebraskan’s roving eye caught sight of Vince loping his horse along the road. Linc let out a shrill yip, and as he strode from behind a clump of mesquite the cowboy espied him, and turned off the road.

  “Wait up a minute, Lucy,” called Lincoln, as he watched the cowboy ride swiftly toward them across the sage. “That sorrel is a real horse.”

  “Brick is a beauty. I’ve ridden him, Linc,” said Lucy. “You know what I’ll bet? Vince borrowed money on his horses and you bought them back.”

  At that moment Vince reined the sorrel before him. Linc greeted him, “Howdy, Vince. Anything on your mind?”

  “Wagon just turned off the main road on to this one,” replied Vince. Then he doffed his sombrero to Lucy. “Wal, who’s got rosy cheeks an’ shy eyes? Lucy, I never seen you look so pretty.”

  “You look sort of pert yourself,” she retorted. “Must be the company we keep.”

  “Lucy, hadn’t you better rustle ahead and get out of sight over the hill before someone comes along the road.... Good-by. Don’t forge
t!”

  “Don’t you forget!” she returned, and with a flash of her blue eyes and a wave of her arm, she drove the team into the sage. In a few moments she had reached the road and turned to the left waving a gauntleted hand as the buckboard dipped below the crest of the hill.

  The moment Lucy disappeared, Lincoln sat down on a rock and wiped the sweat from his face.

  “Vince, my breastbone feels like it had taken a beating, especially on the left side,” he said. “I put up a strong front before Lucy, but it was all nerve.”

  “Pard, down there in South Pass this mawnin’ I reckoned you was in one hell of a mess, and I was about to advise you to pass up this range while you had the mazuma an’ a whole skin. But not now! Not after the way Lucy Bandon looked at you!”

  “How’d she look at me?”

  “Wal, you must be blind.... Linc, if Lucy had looked at me thet way, a year ago, I wouldn’t be a done-for cowboy now.”

  “The way a girl looks don’t mean anything,” the Nebraskan protested.

  “The hell it don’t!”

  “Lucy has seen a lot of men thet was no damn good at all. She’s had to fight off the whole kit an’ caboodle of them. But it sorta looks as though in you she sees one of another breed. An’ if she falls tumble in love with you, for the Lord’s sake, pard, don’t let her down!”

  “I won’t... but you exaggerate — and how about you — you bow-legged little cowpoke! Are you going to help her by not failing me? I haven’t the deal figured out yet. It’s too big, there are too many things I don’t know — and which no one seems to want to tell. Lucy knows a lot that she wouldn’t tell me, too, but I’ll have to find out in my own way. That gambling outfit is as crooked as hell. Kit Bandon seems to be mixed up in it. Lucy suspects it, of course, but that is not the big secret — the terrible deal I’ve got to tackle alone.”