by Zane Grey
Nebraskie was standing in the open door. “Folks, come heah,” he called to those within. “It’s Ioway. Look at him!”
They flocked outside–Nebraskie, Daisy, Siebert and Brooks, to gather around the newcomer.
“Howdy, boy,” drawled Siebert, with his hawk eyes twinkling.
“How’re you, boss?” flashed Ernest, his quick eyes noting no change in the foreman, except a slight pallor.
“Me? Aw, I’m plumb fine.”
“Brooks, how’d it all come out? About the sheriff?”
“They was heah yestiddy,” replied the rancher cheerily. “Looked around some, at these bullet holes in the doorpost Then they packed Hyslip off to Springer. I made shore they’d stop at Hepford’s to tell him the news.”
“Will you hitch up your two-seater and take us all down to Red Rock?” asked Ernest eagerly.
“Shore I’ll hitch up. But what fer do you want us to go–me in particular?”
“Sam, the boy figgers he may need his friends,” put in Siebert persuasively.
“Wal, then, shore I’ll go,” replied the rancher, and he moved away toward the barn.
Nebraskie walked round and round Ernest, gazing with experienced eyes, as he inspected the Iowan’s new outfit.
“You locoed son-of-a-gun from Ioway!... Silver spurs an’ Mex at thet! Kangaroo topsl An’ them velvet pants! . . . Peep at thet gun, Hawk! Look at it!... Ernie, I’m shore knocked flat to think you’d go in debt like this.”
“Come here, you long lean cowpuncher,” retorted Ernest, dragging him aside. “Look! Is this what you wanted?” And Ernest produced the diamond solitaire. The cowboy’s eyes popped, his jaw dropped, for only a moment, when his back was toward the others.
“Dais, come heah,” he drawled, his old cool easy self again. “Looka heah. ... Gimme your hand. I ast Ioway to fetch this to you. ... Doggone! It fits perfect.”
After one little joyous scream Daisy became petrified. Ernest left them to their amazed rapture. He did not want to betray then the emotion that gripped him. But Nebraskie soon caught him, swung a long arm round his shoulders.
“Pard, did ya rob the bank?”
“No,” laughed Ernest.
“Hold up anybody?”
“Well, not quite.”
“Went in debt fer us! My Gawd, pard! I reckon ya got the same fer Anne.”
“Sure did. Look again, pard.”
Nebraskie gazed mutely. At last he burst out: “Jumpin’ bronchos! We’re ruined. It’ll take all our lives to pay them debts. But I’m game. I’d ‘a’ done it myself.”
Not until the two-seated wagon had reached the Red Rock corrals and barns did Selby again acquire the cool self-control that he had determined to show now that the big moment had come. The time had arrived for the big showdown, when Red Rock was to become his own.
They reached the long bunkhouse, upon the porch of which lounged the cowboys Lunky Pollard, Steve Monell, Bones Magill and Shep Davis. They were staring at the arrival of Brooks’ two-seater with wide-open eyes.
“Sam, I’ll get off heah an’ pack my duds, roll my bed an get my saddle,” said Nebraskie.
“Hadn’t Hawk better get down too?” queried Brooks in a low tone.
“Reckon I had, Nebraskie,” replied the foreman.
“What fer?” asked the cowboy mildly.
“Wal, Shep, anyhow, is a bad hombre. He looks ugly.”
“You go with my husband,” said Daisy peremptorily to Siebert.
“Wal, reckon all the rest of my life now I gotta be chapparooned,” complained Nebraskie. “But if you want to know it, those boys won’t kick up nothin’. They’d been all right but fer Hyslip.”
“You’re talkin’ sense there, Nebraskie.”
They got out and slowly walked toward the bunkhouse. Ernest watched them long enough to assure himself there was no need for concern, then he braced himself for the ordeal at hand. Brooks reined in his team before the big ranch house, that had never before seemed so impressive to its new owner.
“You follow me,” said Ernest, to father and daughter, and leaped out of the wagon to go quickly up the steps.
The office door was open. Ernest looked in to see the room was vacant. He heard voices in the living room. Entering he espied Anne standing beside the open fireplace. She looked grave. Mr. Smith sat opposite, and Hepford, white and shaken, halted in his pacing the floor before the porch windows.
“Get out of heah!” he almost shouted. “You cain’t pull the wool over my eyes as you did over Anne’s. She’s confessed she’s your wife. It wasn’t necessary for you to come. Get out of heah, an’ take her with you. I’ve business with this lawyer. We’re expectin’ the new owner of Red Rock.”
“Mr. Hepford, he has come,” interposed Smith, rising.
“What?” snapped Hepford.
“Young Selby has arrived,” returned the lawyer, indicating Ernest. “This young man you once employed as a cowboy is Ernest Howard Selby.”
“WHA-ATT!” shouted Hepford, with a roar that was like a thunderclap, and indeed his face resembled a thundercloud.
“Yes, Mr. Hepford, I am Ernest Selby,” spoke up Ernest composedly, and he stepped forward to hand the small valise that contained his papers to the lawyer.
Hepford suddenly turned white and flopped into a chair, a beaten man. Ernest took a fleeting glance at Anne. That one glance was enough. Another would have unnerved him completely. As he turned again to face the two men he saw her, out of the corner of his eye, walk with bowed head out of the room. How he had to fight to keep from rushing after her.
“Mr. Hepford,” said Smith, in a professional tone, “you will go over these papers with me.”
“To hell–with papers!” muttered the rancher thickly. “If this Iowa tenderfoot is Selby’s nephew–why thet’s enough for me. I quit. Ill get out at once, this very night”
“Very good, but there are some other matters we have to wind up first. I was just suggesting before Selby’s arrival–” went on Smith.
“Let’s make it short and sweet,” interrupted Selby, and at that moment he was glad to see Hawk Siebert come in quietly. “Mr. Hepford, I’ve had the great good fortune to win the hand of your daughter. Naturally I have no intention of ruining you or of making her unhappy. We need not even go over your irregularities, such as I have proof of in a little blue ledger I appropriated from your desk. ... I have, also, the forty thousand dollars you entrusted to Anne. She believed I had killed Hyslip and took the money so that we could get out of the country. If you withdraw claim to that, and this ranch, and all your other Arizona interests in the bank and otherwise, I will exact no more. There will be no publicity whatever.”
“Howard, I–I’ll do thet,” responded Hepford thickly, staring with astonishment at Ernest.
“That’s all then,” returned Ernest shortly. “Mr. Smith, you settle with him–to insure what I ask.”
Whereupon Ernest stalked past Siebert out into the hall. “Wait outside for me, Hawk.”
As once before Ernest found the door of Anne’s room unlocked. He went in and shut it behind him, and proceeded to the bed where she lay, face down, her red hair tumbling about her like fire, her graceful body relaxed.
“Anne,” he called, trying to control his voice a moment longer.
She stirred, she turned. Great tragic eyes transfixed him.
“So–this is your revenge?” she whispered hoarsely.
“Yes.”
“You fooled me?”
“I did indeed.”
She rose to a half-sitting posture, so that the afternoon sunlight, filtering through foliage and window shone on her pale agonized face.
“You–you took your opportunity–you let me believe–you made me love you–you married me–you even–even took me as your wife–all for revenge?”
Ernest parried that question by asking one himself. He dared no longer risk this delicious proof of her love, her abasement.
“Anne, did I make you love me?”
“Yes, heaven help me, you did. But don’t be mean enough to gloat over me heah. I–I’ve deserved this.”
He walked round the bed and sat down beside her. Taking her hand, he swiftly slipped two rings on her third finger.
“There! There’s some more of my revenge!”
She stared uncomprehendingly. But the pallor of her face receded in a wave of color.
“Anne, darling,” he whispered, stealing an arm around her. “I’ve settled with your dad. No fuss, no trouble! He took me up pronto. There’ll be no disgrace, no publicity. He is welcome to his ranch in New Mexico.”
“Iowa! What–what–” she faltered.
“Say, you’re a ‘turrible dumbhaid,’ to use Nebraskie’s words,” chided Ernest, as she broke off. “For a girl who has made as many conquests as you have–you’re being pretty dense right now.”
“But–your re–venge?”
“Revenge. What for?”
“For my hateful low-down treatment of you–that killed your love.”
“But it didn’t, Anne.”
You still–love me?” she whispered. “You are really Ernest Selby–no poor grub-line tenderfoot cowboy after all?”
“Love you. Ha! Ha! That’s an understatement. I worship you. Why, all this has turned out wonderfully. You are a true-blue western girl. You proved you loved me, just for myself. Besides that, you’re the loveliest girl in all the world. And I’m the luckiest, happiest man in that same world.”
“I’m your wife,” she breathed.
“Yes, and just as you said, you’ve become mistress of Red Rock–even if you had to marry the owner.”
“Oh!... Oh!...” she cried, shutting her eyes. Her face began to change convulsively.
“Kiss me,” said Ernest passionately. She kissed him, but it was he who found her lips, and they were quivering.
“Ernest–I–I don’t deserve it–I–I don’t,” she went on brokenly, and then bursting into tears she fell back upon the bed, her face hidden in the pillow.
“Darling, there’s nothing to cry over,” began Ernest, and then left off, realizing that perhaps there was a good deal. He stroked the shining mass of red hair.
“Well, honey, you have a good cry, if you want,” he said, rising. “Ill go out and fire that bunch of cowboys.”
As he went out he found the living room empty, but he heard Smith and Hepford in the office, the door of which was shut. Hawk waited for him outside, and Daisy, with her father nervously paced the porch.
“Come on, all of you. See the fun,” called Ernest, gaily. And he led them at no slight pace around the house and through the pine woods.
“What you up to, boy?” drawled Hawk, half anxiously.
“You mustn’t miss this,” replied Ernest.
“Wal, Dais an’ me air tryin’ darn hard to miss nothin’, but if you ask me we’re shore plumb mysticated,” added Brooks.
Soon they reached the bunkhouse where the cowboys stood and sat around. Their former lethargy had vanished. Ernest, leading his little band, halted before them.
“Say, you punchers, do you recollect that when Hawk and I got fired your pard Hyslip made us walk off this ranch?” demanded Ernest.
Shep Davis was cool and civil enough to reply: “Shore, we recollect thet.”
“Well, was it regular or a low-down trick?”
“Reckon it was low-down all right.”
“Listen then,” went on Ernest, after an impressive pause, during which four pairs of eyes stared intently at him. “For my part I think you’re pretty much of a no-good quartet. But Hawk swears it was Hyslip that spoiled you. So does Nebraskie. I’m willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. . . . Would you rather pack up and walk off this ranch, as Hawk and I did, or apologize to me and swear you’ll be better fellows, and stay on here at higher wages?”
Nothing could have been clearer than the fact that those four astounded cowboys thought Ernest was crazy.
“Boys, wake up,” added Hawk. “This is the new owner of Red Rock Ranch–Ernest Howard Selby.”
Davis was the first to recover. He leaped up, his dark face brightening, and he made a move as if to offer his hand, but on second thought withdrew it.
“Hawk, I might hev knowed----Mr. Selby, I ain’t so low-down but what I appreciate a man. I’ll accept your offer an’ shore reckon I can answer fer my pards.”
Just then Nebraskie came stamping out on the porch, his cherubic face expressive of his wonderment.
“Whatinhell’s goin’ on out heah?” he demanded. “Somebody’s loco shore.”
Ernest actually leaped to confront him.
“Shut up. You’re fired!”
“Huh?” ejaculated Nebraskie.
“You’re fired.”
“Who’s firm’ me?”
I am.
“You!... My Gawd! Dais–Hawk, the pore boy has gone dotty.”
“You’re fired, you long lean wild-eyed bridegroom,” shouted Ernest, warming to the enjoyment of this moment. “Pack up and rustle. You’re fired. . . . But you’re hired again. You’re a partner with Sam Brooks and me in the new development of Red Rock Ranch.”
Nebraskie was past speech. He gazed stupidly from Ernest to Hawk. That worthy laughed.
“Nebraskie, let me introduce you to the new owner of Red Rock–Ernest Howard Selby.”
A full moment passed in silence while Nebraskie looked from one friend to another.
“It’s true, Nebraskie, pard,” added Ernest. “Now, you and Dais go home pronto. Pack up for that honeymoon. We leave tomorrow for California.”
Ernest turned away from that radiantly happy visage, and as he leaped off the porch he bumped into Daisy. Her face was so rapt that he stopped to plant a kiss full on her smiling lips. Then he rushed toward his ranch house, and as he hurried back to his wife his ears were assailed by Nebraskie’s high tenor voice, that never before had rung with such a glad, rich note:
Son-of-a-gun from Ioway
He stoled my h-heart awaay!
