The Dude Ranger

by Zane Grey

  “Sam, we want to work fer our board,” said Siebert, as Brooks reached them. “Can you take us on?”

  “Hell yes. But I’ll do better than thet. What’s up? Git fired or quit?”

  “Which was it, Ernest?”

  “I’ve a faint recollection that we were fired and that Hyslip, the new foreman, told us to walk. Glory, but these bags were heavy!”

  They approached the house, to be met by Daisy, flushed and solicitous. She looked very pretty, Ernest noted. Nebraskie leaned against the door, a grin on his ruddy face.

  “Laugh, you long, hungry-looking gazabo,” declared Ernest “You’re out of a job, too.”

  So the fugitives were taken in and made much of, commiserated with and fed, and all the while avidly questioned. Ernest let Siebert do the talking, and at the news of Red Rock Brooks plainly was worried.

  “It’d go hard with me to lose this home,” he said, gloomily.

  “Lose this home?” flashed Ernest with sudden passion. “Nobody at Red Rock can make you lose your place, Sam.”

  “Sam, you’ll hev to make allowance fer the boy,” drawled Siebert. “He’s kind of loco, but his heart is all right.”

  They talked until long after dark. Daisy, who had been doing the supper dishes with Nebraskie, came in from the kitchen to announce it was bedtime.

  “We got plenty of blankets,” said Brooks. “You fellers can sleep out on the porch with Nebraskie.”

  After the lights were out, and all appeared settled for the night Nebraskie rolled over close to Ernest and whispered: “Pard, you shore must hev had a hell of a time with Anne.”

  “Heaven and hell, both, Nebraskie.”

  “I’m darned sorry. Reckon you mean she was sweet as sugar, then when you needed a friend she dished you cold fer Hyslip?”

  “Nebraskie, old friend, you hit it square.”

  “Wal, damn her green eyes! I always had a sneakin’ hope Anne was true blue, deep under.”

  “You’re as bad as Hawk. She’s got you fooled. Anne’s just no good.”

  Nebraskie sighed. “Ernie, gurls hev a hard go of it, with fellers an’–an’ all thet.”

  “Well, Nebraskie, I didn’t mean to claim that we were angels.”

  “Air you bad hurt, pard?” went on Nebraskie in a low whisper. “Pretty bad. Same as you with Dais.”

  “Wal, then, I’ll be damned if I’d quit,” replied Nebraskie, almost harshly, and rolling over, he went to sleep.

  Ernest did not get to sleep for a long while. At first he thought of the kindness of these good friends and how he loved them and how he was going to reward them, when he took over the ranch. After that his thoughts reverted to the developments of the day, and over and over again he lived them, trying to see them clearly, to trace cause and effect. Vainly he sought for any hope where Anne was concerned. And every train of thought ended at the same dead end. He lay awake for hours, but at last sheer weariness brought on temporary oblivion.

  In the morning, Nebraskie and Siebert went off with Brooks to do some ranch work, and Daisy was busy with her household duties. Ernest lounged around indoors and out, and finally he climbed high on a slope where he sat under a tree and gazed down the beautiful valley. The pasture land, the rolling fields, the green patches of alfalfa, the black slopes leading up to the red crags–these with all their beauty and peace, their loneliness and wildness brought little surcease to his soul.

  The day ended without bringing him any nearer to a solution to his problem. At supper he had difficulty persuading Nebraskie not to ride down to Red Rock. He did not like the cowboy’s cool tone, his gleaming eye. Nebraskie’s complaint about wanting to collect his few possessions did not deceive Ernest. Siebert added his persuasions to Ernest’s.

  “All right. But folks, I gotta go someday. There’s my wages, an’ a saddle an’ a bedroll. An’ shore I want to pay my respects to the new foreman.”

  “Nebraskie Kemp!” cried Daisy, wild of eye. She had her fears and they were identical with Ernest’s.

  “Doggone it! You ain’t my boss yet,” complained Nebraskie.

  “Well, it’s aboot time I was– for your own sake,” replied Daisy.

  “Dais Brooks, I call your bluff!” burst out Nebraskie, as if suddenly inspired.

  That was too much for Daisy, at least in the presence of the amused spectators, and, blushing, she ran out pursued by the grinning cowboy.

  Up to midafternoon next day the situation was precisely the same as on the day before. Then Ernest, who had been sitting on the porch, espied two riders coming down the lane. A second glance identified them as Hyslip and Anne. For an instant Ernest was nonplussed. The next moment he was assailed by a feeling of unreasoning jealousy. He hurried into the house.

  “Daisy, I see Hyslip riding in. Better let me meet him,” he said.

  The girl’s face went white.

  “Hyslip! Oh, I–I cain’t see him,” she faltered.

  “You needn’t,” replied Ernest, shortly. “Shut the door after me”.

  He went out, greatly nettled that Daisy should show such agitation at the mere fact of Hyslip’s approach. The little fool must still love him. Then Ernest forgot Daisy in the absorption of his own jealous curiosity and resentment. Hyslip, of course, had hatched up some excuse to call on Brooks. But why should Anne come with him? It was another of her mean tricks. It could not be just an accident. She halted at the gate while Hyslip rode on in. If she saw Ernest she gave no sign. It was impossible, however, for her not to see him. The distance was short and there were no trees intervening. Hyslip rode up and reined in before the door.

  “I want to see Brooks,” he announced.

  “Nobody home. They’re all out in the back field.”

  “Dais with them?”

  “Yes. And so is Nebraskie. Take a tip from me. Don’t ride out that way,” replied Ernest. “Besides, to judge from your looks, this isn’t such a healthy place for you to be.”

  “My business is not with any low-down cowpuncher,” said Hyslip, flushing angrily. “You can tell Sam Brooks fer me thet he can get ready to move off the ranch.”

  “What ranch?” inquired Ernest instantly.

  “Red Rock Ranch, thet’s what.”

  “But this ranch isn’t Red Rock. This is Brooks’ ranch.”

  “He has no papers fer the land,”

  “So I’ve heard. But my–old Selby gave him the land. One hundred acres. And Brooks has papers for the water rights.”

  “You know a hell of a lot, Howard,” sneered Hyslip. “Brooks cain’t use the water if he doesn’t own or lease the land. Hepford let him stay on heah. But I’m foreman of Red Rock now. An off he goes!”

  “Is that Hepford’s order?” asked Ernest, stifling his fury.

  “It’s my order an’ thet’s enough,” rejoined Hyslip, turning his horse.

  Ernest took advantage of the occasion to walk beside him toward the gate. “I’ll tell him, but I don’t relish the job.”

  “You can save me the trouble of ridin’ up heah again.”

  “Sure. I know I might be saving you more–”

  “Howdy, Dais,” interrupted Hyslip, waving his gauntleted hand at the front window, where Ernest’s swift glance caught the girl’s pale face and dark, strained eyes. Then she vanished.

  “I reckon you savvy,” continued Hyslip, and his look, as well as his tone of voice, conveyed more than enough to infuriate Ernest.

  They reached the open gate. Hyslip rode through and Ernest put up the bars. Then he gazed over them at Hyslip and the girl beyond.

  “I savvy a good deal, Hyslip,” he asserted, his voice vibrating. “Brooks will never get off this land. And I advise you to stay off yourself–if you want to keep your yellow hide in one piece.”

  Anne wheeled her pinto in sudden haste. Ernest had caught only a fleeting glimpse of her face, but enough to see that it wore a startled expression. Hyslip swayed sidewise in his saddle, after the graceful fashion of riders and he sang mockingly:


  Son-of-a-gun from Ioway

  He stole my gurl awaay.

  His mellow laugh rang out. Soon he caught up with Anne, and riding beside her horse, he leaned to catch her hand. She seemed to give hers willingly enough. Then, hand in hand, they rode up the lane together.

  Ernest watched them in helpless rage. At last he muttered: “Who could have–believed that–of her? . . . . She has settled it!”

  Out of his agony of jealousy and betrayal had come the decision to carry out relentlessly the purpose which he had so long hesitated to accomplish.

  16

  NEBRASKIE rode in earlier than usual that evening. He brought the fragrance of the woods with him and there were pine needles conspicuously adhering to his rough garments.

  “You don’t look as if you’d been digging fence-post holes,” observed Ernest.

  “Sam an’ Hawk hev been doin’ thet,” replied the rider.

  “Where you been, Nebraskie?”

  “Aw, jest ridin’ around.”

  What would Nebraskie be doing that for, Ernest pondered? Then Nebraskie asked casually about the horsemen he had seen going down the road toward Red Rock.

  “That was Hyslip and Anne,” replied Selby, just as casually.

  The cowboy swore fluently, then said, “Thet redhaided hussy! Is she playin’ Hyslip’s game?”

  “I don’t know, Nebraskie. I was sure surprised when I saw her riding off holding hands with Hyslip. She just must be plain rotten through and through.”

  “Naw, damn her. It ain’t thet. She’s jest bent on gallin’ you an’ she doesn’t know how bad Hyslip really is. Somebody ought to tell her. Course Dais cain’t. Fer thet matter Dais gits weak in the knees whenever Hyslip’s name is spoke. It shore riles me. But Dais is honest. She told me. She said he charmed her like a snake charms a bird. If it wasn’t fer thet, Ernie, old pard, I’d dish Dais tomorrow. But her heart is all right an’ it’s mine. I gotta stick to her. What worries me is thet Hyslip might ride in heah someday an’ ketch Dais alone. I reckon he was just lookin’ the place over today an’ fetched Anne along.”

  “That may be. But he said he came over to put Brooks off the ranch.”

  “The hell you say! He’ll do it, too, Ernie, if we leave him alone. The law is on Hepford’s side. Brooks has no deed or patent for this ground. He never even homesteaded it.”

  “Well, Nebraskie, you’ll be pleased to know that we won’t leave Mr. Hyslip alone,” replied Ernest cheerfully.

  “Now you’re talkin’. Gosh, but you’re a comfortin’ pard to have around, Ernie. I jest don’t know what I done afore you came!”

  “Thanks. I’m happy to return the compliment.... Now let’s do a little figuring. For the present Brooks and Siebert can keep busy building that much-needed fence. You and I will take turns watching this house. From up in the woods there, where we can see the road each way.”

  “Ahuh. It’s a smart idee. Let him ride up an’ find Dais alone, huh?... Ernie, I feel it in my bones thet he’ll come, too.”

  “Sure he’ll come. Today when they got here Anne stayed out there by the gate. I had seen them coming and told Daisy to shut the door. Well, when Hyslip rode in I lied–said everybody was away. Told him Daisy was out with you and that he’d better not show himself. But, Daisy, the darn little fool, showed herself at the window. Hyslip saw her. And say, but was he cocky! Told me I savvied the case all right. And he rode away singing that Iowa song.”

  “Ahuh. I’m glad you told me, Ernest,” replied Nebraskie. “Reckon it’s wuss than I feared.”

  He clanked into the house, leaving Selby sitting there. A moment later, Ernest heard Nebraskie’s stern voice and then the sound of Daisy’s weeping. Not wishing to overhear what was being said in the house, he got up from his seat on the porch, and moved to a bench under a pine. Presently Nebraskie came out again, white to the lips.

  “Whar air you, Ernest?. . .” he called. Then he espied Ernest and stalked over to where he sat in the shade of the big pine. Squatting down beside his friend he wiped his perspiring face with a grimy scarf. But he seemed otherwise composed.

  “It is wuss, Ernie,” he began steadily. “I jumped Dais good an’ hard. She swore she didn’t remember peepin’ out at Hyslip an’ couldn’t tell why she did it. But she confessed thet she was tumble afeared he had got her into trouble. She had to confess it an’ was glad when it was out. But she cried somethin’ pitiful. I was sort of floored. Then I asked her if she loved Hyslip. She said she hated him, an’ she shore looked it. Then I asked her if she loved me. An’ she swore she did. . . . So I told her thet was enough. We’d ride to town soon an’ git married. Then Hyslip would leave her alone.”

  The Iowan cursed under his breath. After a moment he replied: “That’s exactly what I’d do, Nebraskie.”

  “Shore, I knowed you would. . . . Wal, it’s a hell of a note. But now my hash is settled, I’m worryin’ aboot you.”

  “Never mind me, Nebraskie. My hash is settled, too.”

  On the second afternoon after the day of that conversation, Ernest was sitting on the hillside watching the road when he espied Hepford’s buckboard rattling along in a cloud of dust behind the spirited blacks. Soon he recognized the occupants. Hepford was one, and the other Hyslip, who held the reins. At first Ernest thought they were coming to Brooks’ ranch, but they passed by the lane, and went on swiftly and soon were out of sight.

  “Going to town,” soliloquized Ernest. And he became very thoughtful. Suddenly he jumped up, exclaiming, “It’s my chance!”

  He would go down to Red Rock Ranch and under cover of darkness, in the absence of Hepford and his new henchman, secure that little blue book which he believed he required to substantiate his demands on the rancher.

  Ernest did not return to the house. Keeping under cover of the woods he made a wide detour, circling above the end of the Brooks farm, and came back into the trail that led down on the west side of the valley. He made his way slowly, cautiously and watchfully. Some of Hyslip’s riders might be encountered along the trail, and Ernest did not intend to be seen. The sun had long set when he reached a point opposite and above the ranch house. Here he waited. His gaze wandered with pride over the broad acres, where the long purple shadows were creeping. The wide green pastures were dotted with a hundred head of horses; far beyond, in the larger pasture, cattle grazed. Somewhere cows were lowing and calves bawling; a burro brayed his raucous call to his mate; the baaing of lambs came from the lowlands beyond the house. It was a very beautiful ranch scene, and the sights and sounds of it swelled Ernest’s heart. It was his, and he would soon come into his own. At that moment his heart held no pity. He had been cheated by the father and flouted by the daughter. The time had passed to allow a crown of red hair and a pair of green eyes to stand between him and his own.

  Far above the opposite slope the last gold-red rays of the sun shone on the mountain peaks. This touch of wild grandeur was all that Red Rock needed. The peaceful valley was insulated by rugged timbered heights. Ernest watched the purple shadow lengthen, the twilight deepen to dusk, the dusk to night. Then he moved down from his covert, to enter the pine grove which surrounded the house. Here he proceeded cautiously. The barking of a dog halted him; again a man stalking down the road made him freeze behind the trunk of a pine.

  At length he reached the shrubbery that grew thickly on the north and east side of the house. Once in this dense shelter he felt safe. From its shadows he peered out to discover that there was a light in the little office. His keen ear caught light footsteps. No doubt Anne was in the office. It surely could not be either Hepford or Hyslip. Ernest did not care about any one else, but he dreaded the thought of meeting Anne. If he happened to encounter either Hyslip or Hepford it would mean gunplay. He had prepared himself, and when his hand touched the cold butt of his six-shooter he felt reassured. This was no child’s play. Squatting down noiselessly, he composed himself to wait for the light to go out in that office window.

  He sat there until
his limbs were cramped. Time was no object; he had no sense of hurry. Still the moments began to drag. Presently he got up and moved out across the open yard in front of the house, careful not to cross the beam of the one lighted window. The shadow was impenetrable. He had to feel his way, consequently had little fear of being seen. At length coming to the high porch steps he drew himself up until he could see into the window. The first thing he caught sight of was Anne’s red hair shining in the lamplight. He suffered a sharp pang. Farther up he drew himself. Now he could see Anne sitting at the desk, with her head resting on her folded arms. It was a posture of complete despair. The most callous heart would have been moved by that brief glimpse of dejection and sorrow. What could have happened, he wondered. She was not working nor writing. Again Ernest raised himself to take a keener and longer look. Presently the bowed shoulders of the girl began to shake as though she were sobbing. Her actions were those of a person who had given herself up to grief and hopelessness. Ernest abandoned his position, and gliding back to his covert he settled himself once more to watch and wait and to think.

  Something had occurred that had brought sorrow to this proud and strong-willed girl. Was it something that had to do with her father? With him? With Hyslip? Not that it could change his resolve one whit, he determined. Still he felt his cold savage mood disrupted. Could Anne by any chance actually be feeling remorse? Once he would have known it to be quite possible. A girl of her nature had the moods of April. He even found himself hoping that she was suffering. This thought was followed by the realization that if she were not the fact was certain that very shortly she would be.

  He grew restless, nervous and then uncertain. He could not recapture his cool, determined strength of mind. Sight of Anne’s unhappiness had upset him. Bitterly he accused himself of being a softhearted weakling. But it was no go. Now almost he wanted to abandon his quest. Almost he wanted to go away and leave Red Rock to her. But enough of his purpose remained to tell him that this was sentimental nonsense.

  He was still struggling with himself when all at once the light went out. Ernest caught his breath. At last! He heard a door close and steps retreating into the interior of the house. He waited what seemed a long time. Perhaps it was not so very long as time goes, but it seemed like hours. At any rate he could not wait longer. He drew off his boots.