Collected Works of Zane Grey

by Zane Grey

  “Bradway, I must tell you,” interposed Thatcher, “something that I’ve kept from Vince. I wanted to think more about it. I recognized the cowboy who was beaten that night. His name is Bud Harkness. I knew him pretty well. Just as fine a cowpuncher as ever forked a horse. Now, I’ll tell you something else. If they don’t hang him, Harkness will kill Hargrove because while Lee is evidently the leader of these vigilantes, Hargrove and his hired men are responsible for tripping Harkness up.”

  “That only makes things worse,” said Lincoln. “There’ll be a cowboy-cattleman war over there as sure as I’m sitting here.”

  “That’s exactly what’ll happen if the cattlemen don’t lay off the cowboys,” broke in Vince.

  “But beating a cowboy over his bare back for stealing calves! There’s more to it than that,” exclaimed the Nebraskan.

  “Maybe they didn’t beat him for stealing calves!” said Thatcher, darkly.

  “They wanted to make him talk,” declared Linc.

  “Sure,” admitted Thatcher. “And Harkness won’t ever talk.”

  Vince spoke up. “Boss, we’ll hev to rustle if we ketch thet stage. We’ll hev more to tell you when you get to South Pass. I reckon you better try to get set to come along pronto.”

  “I think so,” replied Lincoln soberly. “Look for me day after tomorrow. Good-by and good luck.”

  After their departure Lincoln sat for a few moments in deep thought. And out of his conjectures he was able to reach one definite decision — that he would leave for South Pass on tomorrow, whether the Bandons returned or not.

  He had not dared to hope that Lucy would come to see him today. Still, there was a possibility. Quite probably Kit would not wish to take Lucy with her to Salt Lake.

  At that very moment Lincoln heard the sheriff’s deep voice greeting someone in the outer room. It was followed by an excited little laugh, quickly recognizable as Lucy’s. He leaped to his feet, upsetting the chair in his haste. The door swung open and Haught stuck his head in, his gray eyes twinkling.

  “Bradway, can you spare time to see a young lady who says she wants to pass the time of day?” he drawled.

  “Haught, bring her in or I’ll — I’ll—”

  The sheriff shoved open the door to reveal Lucy, clad in a new becoming blue costume with a small bunch of flowers adorning her coat. To Lincoln it seemed that he had never seen anything so beautiful as the blue of her eyes or the flush that tinged her cheek.

  “Go on in, lady,” said the sheriff. “He looks kinda like he might want to see you after all.... Wal, young folks, I’ll lock this gate and stand guard.” He closed the door, chuckling to himself. For an instant they stood looking into each other’s eyes; then she literally ran into his arms....

  “Lincoln, oh my poor darling!” she whispered.

  Lincoln strained her to him, kissing her flushed cheeks and closed eyes and at last her parted lips. For a moment her ardor equaled his own; then she drew back, protesting, “Oh, Lincoln — I can’t breathe.” When he loosened his embrace she whispered, “But Lincoln — is there anybody — who could see us?”

  “No, my darling wife, no one can see us. It has been so hard to be so near yet so far away from you. Yesterday—”

  “Oh, Linc, it has been terrible! Especially after I knew about you and Hank, when I knew you were wounded.”

  “It’s really true, then?” he queried, tenderly.

  “Is what true?” she asked, tremulously.

  “That you really love me?”

  “Do I? Oh, wonderfully, terribly, Lincoln. But since that night — not so despairingly.”

  “Oh, Lucy,” cried Linc, “when your aunt said she was leaving for Salt Lake City, I hoped that you might come—”

  “Kit was undecided whether to take me or not, but when I said I’d rather wait for her here she decided not to. She won’t be back till night, and then in the morning we take the stage for home.”

  “Lucy, I’ll be on that stage.”

  “Oh, wonderful. But will the sheriff let you go?”

  “He can’t keep me any longer. There really was no case against me. And my shoulder is fit as a fiddle. Put your head against it and see for yourself,” he urged.

  Lucy followed instructions and found it very fit indeed.

  “I can’t stay as long as you want me,” murmured Lucy. “You see, my dear — husband — I have a lot of packing to do. I’m afraid I can stay only till lunch time. Will that be long enough?”

  “That depends on how sweet and wifelike you can be,” he said, and again he gave way to his joy and rapture to overwhelm her with his hunger for the sweet fire of her lips. For a space they wholly forgot themselves as they clung to each other in their close embrace. Then Lucy drew away from him to remove the hat he had disarranged and the flowers that he had crushed.

  “Lincoln, you’re almost a savage,” she said, archly. “But oh, darling, I’m going to spend my whole life taming you! Not too tame, lover, but tame enough so that I won’t have to go to jail to see you whenever I want to tell you that I love you.”

  “Where are your rings?” asked Lincoln.

  “Here,” she replied as with shining eyes and with unsteady fingers she turned back the collar of her dress revealing the white, graceful curve of her breast and a little folded silk handkerchief which was pinned to the cloth of her bodice. “Here they are,” she whispered. “I wear them pinned inside my dress. I’ve acquired such a habit of putting my hand to feel if they are safe that Kit already has remarked about it. She asked me if I’d caught cold or if anything ailed me. I try to be more careful now.”

  “You must be, Lucy. A great deal depends on that. Never forget for a minute that our secret must not be discovered.... That brings me to something I must get off my chest pronto.” Lincoln hesitated, then plunged on. “I don’t like to admit — but I’m afraid Kit really has a case on me. Evidently she still believes that no man can resist her. And that’s where I am in a predicament. She seems to have no conscience about revealing her feelings and I’m afraid modesty was completely left out of her make-up.”

  “But, Lincoln, it wouldn’t do for you to — to show your true feelings — until — until we—” He kissed her faltering lips. She understood and he was glad.

  “So I promised Vince... that no matter what she did I would not upset the chuck wagon. In other words, for the time being, until we know where we stand in this deal, I’ve got to play along her way. Are you sure this won’t make you unhappy — make you jealous — make you distrust me?”

  “I’ll never distrust you again, Lincoln. I’m not so sure about not being jealous, but I’m your wife. What will sustain me is that before long we will get away on our own. I can stand anything as long as I am sure of that. Only, when Kit makes so — so much over you, please don’t tell me.”

  “Lucy, you are a thoroughbred. That was the only thing that I was afraid of. I think I can handle the rest of it.”

  “Do you think we can get clear away from all this hateful situation soon?”

  “Probably we’ll have to. But not until my job here is done.”

  Lucy averted her face and made no comment.

  “Lucy, when you and I do make our getaway, I don’t want to go too far away from this part of Wyoming,” he continued. “I love it here. It’s a beautiful country, rich in land and water and grass and game. There are many good ranches from which a man can choose. I’ve got the money to make a start. Once let us get out of this mess and we can begin making a home for ourselves.”

  “Lincoln, there is one spot that I want you to see. It’s on the headwaters of the Sweetwater — the valley I told you about, where my friend the old trapper lives. He has homesteaded some acreage up there, and just above it is the loveliest country in the world.”

  “I’m afraid that’s a little close to South Pass, but tell me about it.”

  “It is close,” replied Lucy thoughtfully. “About twenty miles over the hills and a little less from our ranch. Ther
e’s a good trail. I can ride it in two hours, but of course that is going at a pretty good clip.”

  “Are you free to ride up there whenever you choose?”

  “Yes. That’s one place Kit does not object to my going. You see, it’s out of the way, no roads to cross, no cattle or cowboys, seldom any Indians. I never go in hunting season. I’ve met bears and bull moose and elk on that trail that were as tame as cows.”

  “All right. But tell me what it’s like—”

  “Well, the Sweetwater winds through a narrow valley of willows and aspens and oaks for perhaps twelve or fourteen miles... climbing all the time but just enough to make pretty swift water and rapids. Some day someone’s going to find out that this stream has the finest trout fishing in Wyoming. After the valley opens out it is crisscrossed by a succession of canyons that lead up to the great bulk of the mountains. At the top there’s a belt of black timber that stretches for miles, then beyond are the gray and white peaks reaching high into the sky. The trapper has his cabin pretty close up under the valley wall. He has never had to leave that valley to trap all the beaver and martin and fox that he could take care of. It’s a paradise for game.”

  “Sounds pretty exciting, Lucy,” responded Lincoln. “But tell me more of the spot you picked particularly.”

  “It’s about halfway up this valley and fairly high up on a terrace from which you can see the sun rise and set. It looks down on the Sweetwater winding in and out among the willows. The white water shines and there are still pools in the bends. There are hundreds and hundreds of square miles of wonderful pasture land, and from that spot you can see a waterfall that drops half a thousand feet down the mountainside. This bench or terrace where I dreamed that someday I would build a home was made for someone who loved beauty. It is one of those carved and curved benches that you see all over this country, covered with purple sage, and at the back rocky ground rises in short steps. A beautiful stream comes rushing down off these rocks onto the terrace which is surrounded by pines and aspen trees. There are perhaps ten acres of level ground on top of my terrace, most of it good soil in which you could grow almost anything. There is plenty of room for barns and corrals and pastures under the lee of the rocks protected from the northwest wind that blows so fiercely here in winter. I was up there once in October and I was just spellbound by the marvelous coloring. Ben Thorpe tells me that the snow never lies deep down in there. Perhaps the only drawback I could find was that it would take a good deal of work and expense to build a wagon road.”

  “Well!” exclaimed Linc, with a long breath. “If we live anywhere in Wyoming, that’s the spot!”

  “. . . But Lincoln, the most difficult thing is settled,” she said with a smile. “The rest is only a matter of time and work.”

  “And what’s that?” he asked.

  “Don’t you remember what you and I said to the preacher that night — ?”

  “Oh, you mean you’ve corralled me?” he drawled. “And I thought it was the other way ‘round.”

  “We’re both in the same corral, darling,” replied Lucy, seriously. “Oh, I wish the suspense and waiting and anxiety were over so that I could show you our home-to-be.”

  The hours flew by, while the lovers dreamed and planned, gazing out of the window toward the mountains that hid the valley of the Sweetwater, quite oblivious to the fact that they were in the town jail and that Linc was still a prisoner. The noon hour arrived before they were aware of it, and reluctantly Lucy told Lincoln that she must leave.

  “I’ll leave these poor crushed flowers with you, darling,” she said.

  “I’ll keep a couple of these mangled buds,” responded the cowboy, gallantly, taking her in his arms, “just to remember the first kiss I gave you.”

  “You make pretty speeches, Lincoln, and I would love to stay longer to hear you make more of them, but I must go. Is there anything we have forgotten?”

  “We haven’t planned to meet again.”

  “Well — how about one week from today?”

  “But that seems so long!”

  “It won’t be long, dear, with all we have to do. I’ll plan to ride up the river in the early morning one week from today, Wednesday. When you wish to meet me, leave South Pass early in the morning — at sunrise, ride up the stream to the head of the canyon, climb straight to the top and head west. Four or five miles across you can see down into the Sweetwater. It’ll be rough going down the slope but you can grade down without any trouble and find the trail. I’ll be waiting for you either at the trapper’s cabin or up on our terrace.”

  “I’ll be there, darling,” he replied. He rapped upon the door to call Sheriff Haught. In another moment Lucy’s heels were clicking down the corridor, bearing her away from him.

  The subsequent night was long and wearying for Lincoln, owing to frequent wakeful spells, but with the dawn he arose early, glad that the time had come that he was to leave Rock Springs. He packed the black gambler’s suit, thinking as he did so that its success had hardly justified its expense. That first meeting with Lucy, however, when she had scarcely recognized him, was something to remember. He shaved rather carefully. Then he donned his worn cowboy jeans, boots and spurs, and checkered blouse. For a necktie he used a red scarf. The short jacket of this suit revealed his gun hanging very much in evidence below his hip. A few minutes before he was packed and ready to go Sheriff Haught entered.

  “Well, son, you’re goin’ to leave me, I see.”

  “It’s about time,” replied Lincoln. “I owe you a lot of good will and gratitude. How about board money?”

  “What for?” asked the sheriff.

  “Well, you’ve served me nothing but the best. Or else you may want to fine me for disturbing the peace.”

  “No thanks, Bradway. I cashed in plenty on your sojourn heah,” he replied with a smile. “I sure have enjoyed knowin’ you.”

  “Haught, you’re the best sheriff I ever knew, and that’s saying a lot. I won’t forget your tipping me off about this man Miller. It could be that I owe you my life. Good-by and may we meet again.”

  Haught walked with him down the corridor to the door with one hand on his shoulder. “One last word, son. Watch your step with Kit Bandon. I’ve a hunch she’ll go haywire when she finds out about you and your Lucy.”

  “I’ve lost considerable sleep over that myself, Sheriff. Good- by.”

  Lincoln went to a restaurant on a side street and while disposing of his breakfast had the woman put him up a lunch. As he was leaving the eating house he remembered that the doctor had expected to see him once more, but as he felt perfectly fit again, there seemed no necessity for another examination. He asked directions to the stagecoach stop and went directly there. Presently the stage rolled up and he was pleased to note that the only other passengers were the two Bandons and that Kit made no effort to conceal her surprise and chagrin over his presence. Lucy sat on the driver’s seat, clad in a long gray ulster with a veil wound around her hat. Her eyes passed over Lincoln roguishly, with an air of possession, although she merely acknowledged his greeting with a nod. The driver, a stalwart man whom Lincoln did not know, helped him with his baggage and told him to climb inside. Inside Kit had recovered from her surprise and was leaning forward eagerly to greet him. She too wore a long dark coat, and appeared rather worn and tired, but her eyes were bright enough and her smile something to conjure with.

  “Hello, Kit,” he replied to her greeting. “Looks like we’re not going to have any company.”

  “Yes, aren’t we lucky? It will be the first time I ever rode home without being crowded.”

  “A little nippy this morning,” observed the cowboy. “I wish I had a sheep-lined coat.”

  “I have a shawl there which you can use if you get cold.... Lincoln, did you remember to get some lunch?”

  “Yes. I had the woman put up some sandwiches and chicken.”

  Presently the stage heaved and creaked as the driver climbed to his seat. Soon it was rolling out of
town behind two fresh teams. Linc put his head out the window and raised his voice above the clatter of hoofs, the rumbling of the wheels, the clink of chains to call: “Lucy, you’re going to get pretty cold up there and dusty too.”

  “Well, I’m no tenderfoot like some I could name,” replied Lucy saucily. “I’m going to ride outside if we run into a cyclone.”

  “She’s not very flattering,” said the Nebraskan, turning to Kit. “She doesn’t seem to want to ride inside with us.”

  “Three’s a crowd,” replied Kit. “But what with all these bags, and boxes we won’t have any too much room as it is. I did a good deal of buying this trip.”

  “Going home broke, then, I suppose?” queried Lincoln lightly.

  “Not much. I drew out my cash at the bank and I have the check for my cattle deal, so I’m pretty well heeled, cowboy. If we get held up by any road agents mind you do some pretty quick shooting.”

  “We’re not likely to get held up on this route.”

  “I’m dead tired and sleepy,” said Kit. “I couldn’t sleep on the train and I imagine I won’t be very good company today.”

  She sank down against Lincoln and before they were well out upon the prairie she was asleep. They were occupying the front seat of the stagecoach. When Lincoln stuck his long arm out the window he managed to touch Lucy and eventually take hold of her hand. The soft pressure of her fingers was comforting, but he wished he could be up there with her on the driver’s seat.

  The long hours passed swiftly. Traveling back in the opposite direction he found the land looked familiar; the gray sage reaches rolled by him endlessly. Looking ahead he could see the curved hills and the ravines choked with green and occasionally a stream winding away toward the south. Before they had traveled many miles Lincoln’s keen eye began to locate wild game. Antelope were abundant, and in the swales he could see jack rabbits and coyotes and deer too numerous to count. In some stretches he could view far horizons but no mountains. The road was smooth with very little grade, and the horses made fast time. Several hours out, the driver halted in a grove of trees through which a brook ran.