Collected Works of Zane Grey

by Zane Grey

  “So far, so good,” he whispered. Then, for the first time, as he neared the hotel he slowed down. A quick glance showed that the Maverick Queen and her visitors still were absent from the lobby. He bounded up the stairway three steps at a time and burst into the parlor, half-fearing Lucy might have lost heart and run away. But she was still there. He was so out of breath that he could not speak clearly; in the dim light the girl looked up at him with eloquent and frightened eyes. He kissed her and pressed her hand reassuringly. Then he led her out of the room and down the stairs. By the time they had reached the street the pounding of his heart had subsided enough so that he was able to say, “Lucy — I found — a parson. I have the — it’s really true — it’s going — to happen.”

  The darkness enveloped them like a cloak. Never had Lincoln known night to be so sweet and welcome.

  “Oh, I’m so terribly afraid.”

  “I’m not afraid now of being stopped. And I’m not even thinking about what they can do to us — afterward.”

  He hurried her along the street.

  “Don’t look back, Lucy.... Thank God I had the courage to ask you. And that you found the trust to come with me.”

  He strode so swiftly that she was almost forced to run to keep up with him. When they reached the little house beside the church the door was open and a bright light shone cheerfully through the front window. At Lincoln’s knock the minister appeared and quietly asked them in. As the preacher closed the door behind them Bradway’s relief was so great that he felt his legs weakening under him.

  “Well, you made it in less than five minutes,” said the parson, beaming upon them. “This is my wife,” he continued, indicating the comely, placid-faced woman standing near.

  She replied, “I am very happy to meet you.”

  “What is your name?” asked the parson.

  “Lincoln — Bradway.”

  “And the lady’s name?”

  “Lucy — Bandon,” faltered Lucy.

  “Oh indeed, are you related to the famous Kit Bandon I’ve heard so much about?”

  “Yes. I’m her niece.”

  “What is your business?” The minister asked somewhat doubtfully, looking Lincoln over from head to foot.

  “Don’t mind this rig, parson. I’m not a gambler. I bought this outfit because I wanted to surprise Lucy. I am a cowboy.”

  “Well, if you’re in such a great hurry, we might as well get it over,” said the parson producing his worn Bible.

  As if in a trance Lincoln listened and made answers that he could scarcely hear. Lucy’s voice likewise was almost inaudible. The cowboy’s hands trembled so he could hardly slip the little ring on her finger. Then, in a moment it was all over and they were signing their names.

  The parson handed the paper to Lincoln and said, “Well, Bradway, you have been married quickly but nonetheless surely.”

  Linc turned to Lucy. “Lucy, it’s done. We’re married,” he whispered.

  “It doesn’t seem possible,” she answered. “We — we are almost — strangers. I never thought it would be like this.”

  The cowboy’s heart was full to overflowing as he kissed her. The minister’s wife congratulated them and also kissed Lucy.

  Linc pulled himself together. The miraculous had happened. He brought out his wallet and presented a hundred dollar bill to the parson: “You have made me the happiest and most fortunate man in the world,” he said earnestly.

  The minister’s eyes grew round when he saw the greenback.

  “Young man, it looks as if you’ll be as happy as you are generous.”

  “Would it be asking you too much to keep this secret a little while?”

  “Oh, please do,” implored Lucy. “I — we — it would be best for us that it should not be known at once.”

  “Why, not at all,” replied the minister heartily. “I’ve been out west long enough to know that the main thing when you marry young folks is not to worry about the particulars.”

  The Nebraskan put his fingers in his vest pocket.

  “I forgot something, Lucy,” he said, smiling, as he produced a diamond ring which burned white and gold in the lamp light. He put it on Lucy’s finger alongside her wedding ring. She stared at it, mute and rapt.

  “Now you’re not only married, Mrs. Bradway, but consider yourself engaged, as well,” he said. “But we must hurry back. I will never forget you good folks. Someday I will see you again. Good-by.”

  The parson opened the door and let them out.

  “Good luck. God be with you.”

  They hurried out of the light into the darkness again and crossed the street. This time it was Lucy who was almost running as she clutched her husband’s arm.

  “Darling,” he remonstrated. “What’s the big rush? We’re married. No one can stop us now!”

  “Oh, Lincoln, I’m so glad that you took the bit in your teeth, made me marry you. I’m terribly happy and frightened, too. But we can’t let them know yet!”

  “Not at this time!” agreed Lincoln. “But it won’t do for me to run into your admirer Hank Miller while I’m in such a wild-eyed state as this.... Lucy, you mustn’t forget to take off those rings and hide them.”

  “Yes, yes. But, where will I keep them?”

  “Put them on a string around your neck.”

  “No, that wouldn’t be safe. Wait,” she said, clutching his arm.

  In the dim light from a store window she removed the rings and folding them in a little handkerchief she tucked them inside the bodice of her dress.

  “When I get a chance I’ll pin them in safely.”

  They hurried on, and quickly reached the hotel.

  “I wonder if we ought to go in separately?” Lucy said.

  “No, that will hardly do,” replied Lincoln, thoughtfully. “That would look sort of funny — if they happened to be in the lobby. We can say we got tired waiting and went out for a little walk. . .. It’s too late for them to get the best of us now.”

  They went up the steps and into the lobby. It was aglow with light, and filled with noise and cigar smoke. The Nebraskan’s keen eyes swiftly covered the men inside focusing finally upon Hank Miller.

  “Aha! there’s Miller,” whispered Lincoln. “He sees us, he’s coming.... Lucy, keep up your courage.”

  She showed surprising coolness, he thought; and she replied to his warning in a perfectly controlled voice by asking him if he had seen her aunt anywhere.

  Bradway said, “No, she doesn’t seem to be back yet.”

  Then Miller stood before them. His face was dark with anger and suspicion, and he showed signs of having been drinking steadily since dinner. He reached for one of Lucy’s arms and jerked her rudely away from Linc’s side.

  “Where the hell have you been?” he snarled.

  Lucy drew back from him, but there was no fear in the manner with which she confronted him.

  “Hank, please let go of my arm. You’re hurting me.”

  “Where have you been?” he repeated.

  “If it’s any of your business we’ve been out for a walk. We got tired waiting. I asked Mr. Bradway to go.”

  “Oh, you did, huh? I wouldn’t put that beyond you and more besides.”

  Then Miller’s sullen gaze drifted toward Lucy’s escort. As he met Miller’s hot red-rimmed eyes, a curious little cold stillness came over Lincoln. He knew then, beyond any further doubt, that he was going to have to kill this man.

  “Where is Miss Bandon?” he asked, coolly.

  “She’s in there driving a hard bargain with thet cattleman.... So, Bradway, you got away with it.”

  “With what?”

  “Making a play for my girl. I saw it in your eyes.”

  “Yes. Well, all’s fair in love and war, Miller,” retorted Lincoln.

  He derived some pleasure out of the baffled fury in the good- looking cowboy’s eye. But he saw that Miller was determined to force a showdown.

  “Lucy, you go upstairs,” he said.


  Miller added to that: “Yes, you damn little fickle she-cat, get out of here, now. But I’ll see you later.”

  “Miller, that isn’t a very gentlemanly way to address a lady,” drawled Lincoln in a slow, cool, tantalizing tone. “Much less the one you claim to honor with your regard.”

  Lucy gave them both a quick look and turning, she hurriedly mounted the stairway without a backward look.

  “I don’t like you, Bradway.”

  “The feeling is mutual, I assure you,” Lincoln replied.

  “I think you’re a liar. I suspect there’s something shady about you too.”

  “I return the compliment as to who’s a liar,” said Lincoln, “and I know you’re shady.”

  “The hell you say!” exploded Miller. Again that questioning look came into his face. He wondered what this tall stranger knew. “You talk big, gambler. You flash a couple of holster guns besides that outfit you’re wearing. Somebody is liable to take your stake away from you here in Rock Springs.”

  Despite Miller’s surly temper Linc could see that he was mightily curious about the man in the store clothes. He led the way toward a quieter and less brightly lighted section of the room.

  “Miller, it might interest you to know that I came to Rock Springs to find you.”

  “Is that so? Now, you’ve found me, what are you going to do about it?”

  “First off I’m going to take up that little matter of you calling Lucy names. I should have done it then,” said Linc with a disarming casualness.

  “You’ll find it a bigger bite than maybe you can chew.”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” replied the Nebraskan, smilingly.

  “All right, Mister Bradway. What do you propose to do?”

  “This!”

  With action as swift as the word, Lincoln swung his right arm in a haymaker that landed on Miller’s mouth with terrific force, knocking him over backward. For an instant he strove to recover his balance, then fell over some vacant chairs and slipped to the floor where he lay still.

  CHAPTER VIII

  THE CRASH OF falling chairs and the sodden thud of Miller’s body landing on the floor brought from those near by in the lobby excited exclamations followed by silence. Lincoln waited to see if Miller was going to rise, but evidently he was stunned. He lay sprawled on the floor, his head and shoulders up against the wainscoting. Blood had begun to trickle from his mouth. Lincoln relaxed his tense posture. He massaged his right hand with his left as he watched the man on the floor. He realized that there would be little if any reaction from Miller for some time to come.

  A tall, sallow man with a drooping mustache and sharp eyes stepped forward from the crowd and said to Bradway, “Wal, young man, you hit him pretty hard.”

  Linc turned. Prominent on the newcomer’s vest was a silver badge.

  “Yes, Sheriff, I hit him all right,” he replied, grimly.

  “What was it for?”

  “He insulted a young lady who just came in with me.”

  “I saw her, the young Bandon girl. In thet case I reckon I won’t do anything but offer you some advice.”

  “I’d like that pretty pronto,” replied the Nebraskan.

  “Do you know the man you’ve hit?”

  “Saw him and met him tonight at dinner, but I don’t know anything about him except that he’s mean. I’m afraid I’m in for it.”

  “You sure are,” drawled the sheriff. “Miller hails from Calispel. I met cattlemen who knew him in Montana where he had a hard name. Hot-headed and quick on the draw.”

  The crowd of bystanders began to open up a passage to let Kit Bandon come hurriedly through. Her mysterious black eyes took in Lincoln with the sheriff, then the prostrate Miller as she approached. But there was no expression of surprise, concern or fear in her glance.

  “Sheriff,” he whispered, swiftly, turning to the officer, “arrest me or take me in charge.”

  “Wal, I reckon I savvy,” muttered the law man, and he laid a hand on Lincoln’s arm.

  Kit Bandon now stood before them, her dark eyes smoldering.

  “Linc Bradway, how come you are down here? Where’s Lucy? What have you and Hank been up to?”

  “Lucy grew tired of waiting and asked me to take her for a little walk,” replied Lincoln. “We went about two blocks. When we came in again Miller was here and he tried to take the girl’s arm. He was sore and suspicious. Lucy jerked away from him. They had a few words, then Miller turned to me. I told Lucy to go upstairs, then Miller insulted her. We exchanged a few words after that and then I hit him.”

  “Insulted Lucy?” she exclaimed. “Why the dirty pup! He hasn’t any claim on Lucy. Why did you want to dirty your hands with him? Why didn’t you throw your gun on him?”

  “I did think of it but here in the crowded lobby—”

  “You’ll have to do it anyhow now,” flashed Kit. “Miller told me he was going to badger you into a fight.”

  “Wal, Miss Bandon,” interposed the sheriff, “I reckon you’re right, but we ought to appreciate this young man’s consideration for others.”

  “Sheriff Haught, that’s funny talk for a Texan,” retorted Kit, scornfully.

  At that moment it was easy for Linc to read her thoughts. She had a reason for wanting him to kill Miller. Since it now seemed important to the Maverick Queen to have the young man dead and out of the way, Linc was certainly glad the meeting with Miller had not come to a fatal issue. There was something he wanted to ask the cowboy when he met him again face to face.

  “Wal, we won’t argue about thet now. Come with me, young feller. What did you say your name was?”

  “I didn’t say,” replied Linc. “But it’s Lincoln Bradway.”

  “Sheriff, are you going to run him in?” Kit queried, sharply.

  “No, I reckon I won’t do thet, but I’ll get him out of here. There’s likely to be a rumpus when Miller comes to.”

  “Sheriff, that is ridiculous. I’ll take care of him.”

  “Sorry, Miss Bandon, but I reckon I’ll take him along.”

  He led Bradway toward the door. Miller had begun to show signs of recovering consciousness. One of the men approached and knelt beside him. Kit Bandon went over to stare angrily down at the recumbent cowboy. As Linc backed out the door, he could see over the heads of the crowd Lucy standing white-faced and anxious-eyed on the stairway.

  Outside the sheriff led the Nebraskan down the lighted street.

  “Reckon you’d like a drink?” suggested the sheriff.

  “I would, but I’ve sworn off.”

  “Thet’s never a bad idea. Bradway, I don’t take you for an out-and-out gambler. You haven’t the look.”

  “No, I’m not,” said Lincoln. “My cowboy clothes are old and soiled and I wanted to buy something fancier, and this rig was all I could find here in town.”

  “Wanted to impress the ladies?” drawled the Texan.

  “Well, yes, one of them.”

  “Bradway, I know this Bandon woman pretty well, and I met the niece several times. She’s a mighty sweet little filly. Excuse me for being curious, but is it Kit or Lucy that you are sweet on?”

  “Sheriff, I don’t suppose you’ll believe it but it is only Lucy.”

  “It’s hard to savvy at that, which ain’t saying that Lucy Bandon is not a sweet and pretty girl. But that aunt of hers makes every girl pale in front of her. I’d like to ask you some more about them ladies, Bradway, and what they’re doin’ here in Rock Springs, but thet’s enough for the present.”

  “Please hold it confidential, Sheriff,” replied Lincoln.

  “Young feller, I don’t suppose it will do the least bit of good but I advise you to get out of Rock Springs tonight.”

  “Sheriff, I can’t run away from any man, let alone a hombre like Miller.”

  “Then you’ll have to meet him tomorrow. And if I know hard customers you’ll have to shoot mighty quick and mighty straight. I thought perhaps you wouldn’t want to mess up things while the ladie
s are in town.”

  “I’ll have to overlook that. You heard Kit Bandon. She’d like to see me throw a gun on Miller.”

  “You bet your life I didn’t miss thet,” quickly replied the Texan. “Wal, my advice is this: I’ll take you to a little hotel down this street. You go to your room and tomorrow stay inside until I come down and tip you off how the land lies.”

  “You will do that, Sheriff?” asked Lincoln.

  “Glad to. It wouldn’t do any good much to arrest Miller tonight. I couldn’t hold him and so long as you intend to stay in town I think a meeting can’t be avoided. I hope it will be you I’ll have to arrest afterward.”

  “You can bet on that, Sheriff.”

  He halted Bradway in the middle of the next block. They entered a quiet little hotel where the sheriff made arrangements for Lincoln’s lodgings and bade him good night. The Nebraskan was shown to his room on the first floor, and after bolting the door and pulling down the blind he sat down on the bed to think over all the things that had happened during this most eventful evening of his life. It seemed impossible to believe Lucy really was his wife! By what miracle had this wonderful thing happened to him? Out loud he repeated several times “Lucy Bradway, Lucy Bradway.” It was the sweetest name in all the world.

  His thoughts drifted to the dark, surly cowboy whom he would have to meet; he must plan what he was going to say to the cowboy — if he had a chance before the shooting began. But suppose they met, and he had a chance to find out what the cowboy knew? Suppose he came through unscathed. What about Kit Bandon? Now that he was Lucy’s husband, must he keep off Kit’s trail which every day was growing more tangled? And what would be Kit’s own reaction when she found out he had married Lucy? She would be a desperate woman to cross, but the hope persisted that he or Lucy would not betray their secret until he had cleared up the mystery surrounding Jimmy Weston’s murder. Then, perhaps he and Lucy might ride away before Kit could discover the truth about them. Fate was drawing tight lines about her, and it was possible that she had come to realize this also. Why did she want to have Miller killed? There was only one answer to that! Miller must be aware of that something which Kit wanted so desperately to be kept secret. Did it concern Jimmy Weston, and the manner in which he had been killed? That was the dark truth to which Lincoln had committed himself to uncover. It was a strange and tragic mystery, all the more baffling and poignant because of the probable implication of both of the Bandons. Even Lucy, his own wife, knew more than she would tell.