Collected Works of Zane Grey

by Zane Grey

  “It’s getting late,” said Lincoln, taking one of her arms. “Kit, do you think you can ride?”

  “Yes, I guess I’m all right now,” she replied, quietly.

  “I’ll get your horse. And yours, too, Lucy,” said Lincoln. And he hurried away to find them.

  Kit’s horse had wandered off the bench and required a few moments to locate. Upon returning to the grove with the two horses he found both women composed.

  “Lincoln — Lucy,” Kit Bandon spoke in a flat, dead tone of voice, “it could have been worse. But that was not to be. I’m glad — I don’t know just what you said and what I admitted, but I ask you to forget it. Would that be too much?”

  “There, there, Kit,” replied Bradway earnestly. “Whatever was spoken, or whatever was done here today, shall be forgotten by Lucy and by me.”

  “Oh, yes,” replied Lucy in a low voice. “It is all forgotten — and forgiven. It was an hour of madness.”

  “Are you sure you can ride?” asked Lincoln.

  “I think so. Where’s my horse? Let me try.” She did not mount so readily, but she appeared to be steady in the saddle and Lincoln calculated that she would be all right.

  “Take her home, Lucy,” said the Nebraskan. “As long as she’s all right I’d rather not go. I’ll ride across the valley and climb out on top where I expect to meet the cowboys. I’ll be seeing you in a day or two.... Good-by, Lucy — Don’t take it so hard, Kit. After all it was a bad place for you. Good-by.”

  He watched them ride across the bench and down the trail. Soon they broke from a trot to a lope, assuring Lincoln that they would reach home safely.

  “Well!” he soliloquized. “I thought that was my finish... but somehow I just can’t feel as happy as I want to feel.”

  He climbed down over the rocks and securing Kit’s gun put it in his pocket and returned to the level. The day was far spent. The sun had gone down behind the peaks in the west. Hurrying to his horse, he mounted and rode down off the bench. He found a trail there that led straight across the valley. Crossing the valley in a lope, he reached the summit of the slope and found Thatcher and Vince waiting for him.

  “Wal, boss,” drawled Vince with a grin, “you didn’t ‘pear to be a hombre thet would punish hoss flesh thet way. I reckon Mel and I figgered the devil was after you.”

  “By George, you’re right. I didn’t realize I was pushing the horse.” Linc found that Bay was wet with lather and breathing heavily. “Slip his saddle, Vince. We’ll rest a little.”

  Bradway sat down with his back to a tree and wiped his hot face. Then he espied a lean-to made of pine boughs, several blankets thrown over the bushes, a little campfire burning with a coffeepot boiling, and a skillet heating up. A parcel of food was spread on the ground.

  “So you’ve made camp?” queried Lincoln.

  “Shore,” replied Vince. “It wasn’t no trouble to pack this little stuff an’ you never can tell.”

  “Good idea!” exclaimed the Nebraskan. “We’ll stay here all night.”

  “That’ll be best, Linc,” put in Thatcher. “It’ll be dark pretty pronto and we want to map out your road from this point. You’ll be surprised to learn this is the only place along this eastern side of the valley where we can build a road.”

  “Shore is the greatest corral for stock I ever seen,” added Vince. “All you hev to do is to fence the opening where you come in and build a little fence and a gate down heah where you see it so narrow an’ you’ll be jake.”

  “Linc, if you can throw a few cattle in there you’ll get rich,” said Thatcher, thoughtfully.

  “You’re wrong, boys,” responded Linc. “I can throw a big herd of cattle in here and we’ll all get rich.”

  “Doggone! Darned if I don’t believe you, pard!” ejaculated Vince. “Now you talk to Mel while I toss together some grub.”

  Thatcher seated himself cross-legged beside Bradway. “Most wonderful place, boss. Of course all this western part of Wyoming is wonderful, but this has any country I ever saw beat. We moseyed along slow, getting off our horses now and then to take a look. That field glass we bought the other day is a great help. We couldn’t begin to count the head of game we saw. There are several score of cattle down there that might be as wild as the elk.”

  “The elk aren’t wild, Mel,” returned the Nebraskan. “Only the big bulls showed any disposition to get out of my way. Only the moose down there are wild.”

  “It’ll be many a long year before this country will lack game to any extent.” Mel leaned over and began to scratch up a little pile of pine needles. “I reckon we’ve got to tell you.... Several hours after you left us we spotted Kit Bandon riding hell for leather up the trail. It was a sure bet she was trailing Lucy.... Vince and I knew that she must have caught up with you long before you got up the hill yonder.”

  Vince, kneeling at the campfire with his back turned, moved his head slightly and stiffened.

  “Ha!” Lincoln expelled a deep breath. “Did she catch us? She almost caught us for good!”

  There was an eloquent little silence, which presently Vince broke. “Wal, you seem to hev got back to us without bein’ full of holes.”

  “Yes, by luck or the grace of God!” muttered Lincoln. “Fellows, Kit knew nothing whatever about Lucy and me. We had forgotten the world and Kit slipped up on us and caught Lucy in my arms.”

  “Whoops!” yelled Vince. His loud exclamation was not expressive of his feelings.

  “How in hell did you ever get out of that?” asked Thatcher, bursting with excitement.

  “I was lucky, I tell you. I wouldn’t be surprised if she had it in her mind to kill us, she was plenty mad. But you know how women are.... Afterward she broke down and then came to her senses when she found that she had a new good-looking nephew-in- law like me. You boys must know the good side of Kit Bandon.”

  “Big and fine as all outdoors,” said Thatcher. “But Linc, we thought we heard a shot.”

  The Nebraskan laughed. “Kit shot at a gopher and then she felt better. She lets off steam that way, I reckon.”

  Vince turned around from the fire, his face red, his eyes piercing. “Pard, you mean to stand there and say thet you got away with it? Thet Kit let you off?”

  “Yes, that is what I mean,” replied Bradway thoughtfully. “What is more, she seemed to be resigned to the fact of my marriage to Lucy — and, in short, although it seems a miracle, I believe she’ll be our friend.”

  “Shore she will,” returned Vince. “An’ it’ll behoove you to be a friend of hers in the bad time thet is comin’ pronto.”

  “I will be,” returned the Nebraskan. “But let’s don’t talk any more about Kit now. I want to talk about homesteading this valley, and get your advice and angle on what’s to be done.”

  “Wal, we’ll be darned glad to give thet,” said Vince heartily.

  “‘Nother thing I ought to tell you, Linc,” spoke up Thatcher with evident embarrassment. “I have a sweetheart back in Cheyenne. Haven’t heard from her for a long time, but if she has stuck to me I’ll want to settle down for keeps. Would that be all right with you?”

  “Right? It’s perfect!” responded Lincoln enthusiastically. “That will please Lucy. Vince, couldn’t you dig up a girl?”

  “Wal, I could dig up one of them dance-hall girls I met the other night,” replied Vince seriously.

  “I’ve known cowboys who married dance-hall girls who turned out to make fine wives,” said Linc, “so that wouldn’t be so bad either.”

  “It’d be kinda fine at thet,” returned Vince, and then once more applied himself to the preparation of supper.

  Presently Lincoln was sitting cowboy-fashion with his two comrades to enjoy their frugal meal. The setting was one he had never seen equaled. While they were eating, the afterglow of sunset turned from gold to red, burnishing the whole valley in shades of flame color. As dusk came on, they made plans concerning their future ranch in the valley until the fire burned low and the st
ars came out and it was time to turn in.

  When the three cowboys awoke, the early sun had colored the peaks a soft rose, the pine needles were drifting down on the breeze, and the valley and the lake and the streams below them were shining with the glory of the dawn. To the tall Nebraskan the tragic events of the day before seemed already to have faded into the past. Yet as he lay there for a moment watching Vince and Mel stretch, pull on their boots, rub their eyes and fold their blankets, he wondered how it was with Lucy in the Bandon ranch house. Had he been wise to let the girl accompany her aunt home after Kit’s attempt to kill her?

  They broke camp early and set off eastward, searching out the best route for a road among the rocks and the thickets which grew along the hillside toward the Pass. They slowly made their way, leading their horses, blazing the trees to indicate their route, cutting brush, and marking thickets through which the road would pass. It took them all morning to work down from the rim of the valley to the point where the timber thinned out and failed. From then on the going was less rough down a gradual slope over fairly even ground. Toward the middle of the afternoon they reached the bluff overlooking South Pass. The town, bustling as usual, appeared hazy with the smoke from the smelter. The last miles, leading down the long slope across the brook, they rode; and from their unaccustomed footwork, they were thoroughly tired when they reached Headly’s stables.

  “Wal,” suggested Vince, “let’s wash up an’ mosey down to set an’ see what’s come off since we’ve been gone.”

  “O.K., boys,” agreed Lincoln, “but it’s early yet. So let’s head for the big store and buy ’em out. I forgot to tell you about Ben Thorpe, the trapper over in Lucy’s valley. He’s got two teams of horses and he’s going to work for us. We’ll leave the harness for him to pick out. I’ll buy a couple of big wagons and you hombres select all the ranch tools that we’ll need. It’s good that this is a big store with a full line of hardware. And, Mel, don’t forget plenty of carpenter’s tools.”

  “Huh. Talks like he had a gold mine,” said Vince. “Thet stuff is goin’ to cost a heap of money.”

  “We’ve got plenty, pards, and maybe I’m not glad I saved it! Pile in now and let’s do the best trading we can!”

  At the restaurant two hours later, Bradway spread out the checked lists and read the items aloud. “Not bad for so short a time,” he said with satisfaction. “Tomorrow we’ll finish and order what Dockery Brothers did not have in stock. We’ll have those two wagons packed before Thorpe gets here.”

  “Boss, we’re forgettin’ tents, beddin’, stoves, stovepipes and a lot of things beside the grubstake we’ll need to start the work on.”

  “I haven’t forgotten anything, boys,” responded Linc. “We’ll hire somebody with a small wagon to go along with Thorpe and we’ll build our road, camping as we go, right down into the valley.”

  “It’s a right pert job and strikes me where I live,” said Vince with a faraway look in his eyes. “I wonder—” The arrival of their supper prevented him from uttering what he had been about to say.

  After supper they emerged from the restaurant to find it dark and the lights lit in all the windows. They sauntered down the crowded street, looking — as was their habit — for cowboys and cattlemen; but only miners, and the typical disreputable town hangers-on seemed to be in evidence.

  “Hey, look there,” said Vince, pointing down the street. “Somethin’s come off. Biggest crowd I ever seen in front of Emery’s.”

  “That reminds me,” returned the Nebraskan. “Emery left South Pass yesterday morning. He saw us climb the hill a little after sunrise. You remember pointing out the buckboard going at a pretty good clip? Well, he saw Lucy riding up the Sweetwater trail and putting two and two together he tipped Kit off to where we were going.”

  “Emery leavin’ to go down the valley must mean a whole lot,” said Vince, thoughtfully. “Let’s find out.”

  “All right,” agreed Lincoln. “Let’s split up and ask a few questions; we’ll meet later and compare notes.”

  The South Pass gentry seemed to be distinctly cold to cowboys that evening. One of the men, a mining foreman at the mill, recognized Bradway and made a significant remark: “You ought to know more than we do about what’s come off. You belong to that outfit.”

  “I only asked a civil question,” returned the Nebraskan sharply. “What outfit do you mean?”

  “That Emery-Bandon outfit, cowboy. That’s what I mean.”

  “I won’t call you a liar, because you’re probably only peddling gossip, but if you mention again that the Emery-Bandon outfit is my outfit, then I’ll have to call you, pronto.”

  The miner, catching the glint in the cowboy’s eyes and his low-swinging guns, subsided quickly, and Linc pushed his way inside the saloon. It was more crowded and noisy than he had ever seen it; gamblers occupied every table, with others awaiting their turn. In the other room a line crowded the bar three deep, drinking and waiting to be served. Bradway noticed that none of the employees of the Leave It seemed familiar to him. Finally he found two miners inclined to be somewhat loose-tongued and mellow from drink, who appeared to be willing to talk. According to the gossip that was going the rounds, they said, Emery’s creditors, big cattlemen from down the valley, one of whom was Kit Bandon, had taken the gambling hall away from him and run him out of town. In a rage at being dispossessed, according to what they had heard, Emery had sworn vengeance on somebody whose name they didn’t know. The rumor persisted that on account of certain shady cattle deals in which he was implicated it might be wise for Emery to quit the valley while the going was good.

  After gleaning from his tipsy informants all that was possible, Lincoln went outside to wait for his two partners. He did not have to linger long for Thatcher. The Nebraskan lost no time informing the cowboy of all he had learned.

  “I got just about the same story,” said Mel. “Emery always was a crooked gambler and it was well known that he ran a crooked house, but he couldn’t be held for that because in this territory gambling isn’t legal. It’s a wonder he had not been shot long ago. But he stood in with the other gamblers and shared his profits with them. It just happened that no cowboy had been cheated and riled enough to draw on him. But, boss, the people now feel pretty sure that Emery has been in crooked cattle deals with Kit Bandon. That’s a horse of another color. I don’t like it. These cattlemen who are seein’ red might get a hold on Kit through her known association with Emery.”

  “I don’t like it either,” responded Linc, gravely. “Kit has been careless about her reputation. Why did she ever tie in with a crook like Emery? He must have had some hold on her. What can we do?”

  “I reckon we ought to think about our own hides,” returned Thatcher, tersely.

  “Lordy, we ought to be able to do something to help Kit and still save our hides. That is, if she will accept our help.”

  “There isn’t a cowboy in the valley who would not help Kit Bandon. But I question the wisdom of our mixing any deeper in this mess. You’re married to a fine girl and you are ready to settle down homesteading and ranching it. And there’s nothing you can do about it anyway. And I’ll tell you, pard, I’d like to get out from under, make up with my girl, and start straight with you in the cattle business.”

  “You’re sure talking sense, Mel,” admitted Lincoln. “But — but I just can’t help it. I want to save Kit Bandon from her own mistakes.”

  “That’s the way Vince feels. That’s the way with all the cowboys who have fallen under her ill-starred influence, but I’ve finally got some sense and I think you have, too. I’m telling you to let well enough alone. You were damn lucky that Kit Bandon let you off yesterday, when sure as hell I thought she was out to kill you.”

  “That’s one reason why I’d risk a lot to save her.”

  “All right. I’m with you,” returned Thatcher soberly. “Said I’d stick and I meant it. What do you aim to do?”

  “That’s where I’m stumped. I don’t k
now. We’ll have to wait until we find out what is threatening Kit.”

  “No! Wait nothing. You’d better want to help her before anything threatens.”

  “But if I don’t find out what’s threatening her I can’t persuade her to leave the valley while there’s still time.”

  “Bradway, I can find out what might happen to Kit Bandon,” rejoined Mel, his voice low.

  “Mel, if you can find out and will help me I will—”

  “O.K., I’m off,” said Thatcher quietly. “I wouldn’t tell Vince if I were you because he’ll trail me, and I’ll tell you that hombre is bad medicine.” With that Mel gave Lincoln’s arm a squeeze and strode off down the street to disappear among the pedestrians.

  “Well, I’ll be damned,” muttered the Nebraskan, just as Vince came shuffling up.

  “Hello, boss,” he said. “Where’s Mel?”

  Linc felt that no matter what the risk, he would have to be honest with Vince. “I told Thatcher that I wanted to know exactly what was threatening Kit Bandon. He said he could find out and he went off almost on the run.”

  “Hell’s fire!” ejaculated Vince in an injured tone. “I knew Mel was double-crossin’ me. He hasn’t told me everythin’.”

  “Well, there’s nothing for us to do, Vince, but wait till he comes back.... Did you get any angles on Emery being driven out of town?”

  “There’s plenty of talk,” replied Vince. “An’ I suppose you got about the same as me. But don’t you savvy, boss, thet these miners an’ townspeople hevn’t any idee what’s behind all this.”

  “I think I begin to savvy,” replied the Nebraskan.

  They walked up and down the street with Bradway doing most of the talking and Vince growing more somber and noncommittal as the time went by. When the hour grew late he tried to get Vince to share his lodgings that night.