To the Last Man

by Zane Grey

  CHAPTER V

  Old John Sprague launched into his narrative with evident zest.

  "I hung round Greaves' store most of two days. An' I heerd a heap.Some of it was jest plain ole men's gab, but I reckon I got the driftof things concernin' Grass Valley. Yestiddy mornin' I was packin' myburros in Greaves' back yard, takin' my time carryin' out supplies fromthe store. An' as last when I went in I seen a strange fellar wasthar. Strappin' young man--not so young, either--an' he had onbuckskin. Hair black as my burros, dark face, sharp eyes--you'd tookhim fer an Injun. He carried a rifle--one of them new forty-fours--an'also somethin' wrapped in paper thet he seemed partickler carefulabout. He wore a belt round his middle an' thar was a bowie-knife init, carried like I've seen scouts an' Injun fighters hev on thefrontier in the 'seventies. That looked queer to me, an' I reckon tothe rest of the crowd thar. No one overlooked the big six-shooter hepacked Texas fashion. Wal, I didn't hev no idee this fellar was anIsbel until I heard Greaves call him thet.

  "'Isbel,' said Greaves, 'reckon your money's counterfeit hyar. I cain'tsell you anythin'.'

  "'Counterfeit? Not much,' spoke up the young fellar, an' he flippedsome gold twenties on the bar, where they rung like bells. 'Why not?Ain't this a store? I want a cinch strap.'

  "Greaves looked particular sour thet mornin'. I'd been watchin' himfer two days. He hedn't hed much sleep, fer I hed my bed back of thestore, an' I heerd men come in the night an' hev long confabs with him.Whatever was in the wind hedn't pleased him none. An' I calkilatedthet young Isbel wasn't a sight good fer Greaves' sore eyes, anyway.But he paid no more attention to Isbel. Acted jest as if he hedn'theerd Isbel say he wanted a cinch strap.

  "I stayed inside the store then. Thar was a lot of fellars I'd seen,an' some I knowed. Couple of card games goin', an' drinkin', ofcourse. I soon gathered thet the general atmosphere wasn't friendly toJean Isbel. He seen thet quick enough, but he didn't leave. Betweenyou an' me I sort of took a likin' to him. An' I sure watched him asclose as I could, not seemin' to, you know. Reckon they all did thesame, only you couldn't see it. It got jest about the same as if Isbelhedn't been in thar, only you knowed it wasn't really the same. Thetwas how I got the hunch the crowd was all sheepmen or their friends.The day before I'd heerd a lot of talk about this young Isbel, an' whathe'd come to Grass Valley fer, an' what a bad hombre he was. An' whenI seen him I was bound to admit he looked his reputation.

  "Wal, pretty soon in come two more fellars, an' I knowed both of them.You know them, too, I'm sorry to say. Fer I'm comin' to facts now thetwill shake you. The first fellar was your father's Mexican foreman,Lorenzo, and the other was Simm Bruce. I reckon Bruce wasn't drunk,but he'd sure been lookin' on red licker. When he seen Isbel darn meif he didn't swell an' bustle all up like a mad ole turkey gobbler.

  "'Greaves,' he said, 'if thet fellar's Jean Isbel I ain't hankerin' ferthe company y'u keep.' An' he made no bones of pointin' right atIsbel. Greaves looked up dry an' sour an' he bit out spiteful-like:'Wal, Simm, we ain't hed a hell of a lot of choice in this heah matter.Thet's Jean Isbel shore enough. Mebbe you can persuade him thet hiscompany an' his custom ain't wanted round heah!'

  "Jean Isbel set on the counter an took it all in, but he didn't saynothin'. The way he looked at Bruce was sure enough fer me to see thetthar might be a surprise any minnit. I've looked at a lot of men in myday, an' can sure feel events comin'. Bruce got himself a stiff drinkan' then he straddles over the floor in front of Isbel.

  "'Air you Jean Isbel, son of ole Gass Isbel?' asked Bruce, sort oflolling back an' givin' a hitch to his belt.

  "'Yes sir, you've identified me,' said Isbel, nice an' polite.

  "'My name's Bruce. I'm rangin' sheep heahaboots, an' I hev interest inKurnel Lee Jorth's bizness.'

  "'Hod do, Mister Bruce,' replied Isbel, very civil ant cool as youplease. Bruce hed an eye fer the crowd thet was now listenin' an'watchin'. He swaggered closer to Isbel.

  "'We heerd y'u come into the Tonto Basin to run us sheepmen off therange. How aboot thet?'

  "'Wal, you heerd wrong,' said Isbel, quietly. 'I came to work fer myfather. Thet work depends on what happens.'

  "Bruce began to git redder of face, an' he shook a husky hand in frontof Isbel. 'I'll tell y'u this heah, my Nez Perce Isbel--' an' when hesort of choked fer more wind Greaves spoke up, 'Simm, I shore reckonthet Nez Perce handle will stick.' An' the crowd haw-hawed. Then Brucegot goin' ag'in. 'I'll tell y'u this heah, Nez Perce. Thar's beenenough happen already to run y'u out of Arizona.'

  "'Wal, you don't say! What, fer instance?, asked Isbel, quick an'sarcastic.

  "Thet made Bruce bust out puffin' an' spittin': 'Wha-tt, fer instance?Huh! Why, y'u darn half-breed, y'u'll git run out fer makin' up toEllen Jorth. Thet won't go in this heah country. Not fer any Isbel.'

  "'You're a liar,' called Isbel, an' like a big cat he dropped off thecounter. I heerd his moccasins pat soft on the floor. An' I bet tomyself thet he was as dangerous as he was quick. But his voice an' hislooks didn't change even a leetle.

  "'I'm not a liar,' yelled Bruce. 'I'll make y'u eat thet. I can provewhat I say.... Y'u was seen with Ellen Jorth--up on the Rim--day beforeyestiddy. Y'u was watched. Y'u was with her. Y'u made up to her.Y'u grabbed her an' kissed her! ... An' I'm heah to say, Nez Perce,thet y'u're a marked man on this range.'

  "'Who saw me?' asked Isbel, quiet an' cold. I seen then thet he'dturned white in the face.

  "'Yu cain't lie out of it,' hollered Bruce, wavin' his hands. 'We goty'u daid to rights. Lorenzo saw y'u--follered y'u--watched y'u.'Bruce pointed at the grinnin' greaser. 'Lorenzo is Kurnel Jorth'sforeman. He seen y'u maulin' of Ellen Jorth. An' when he tells theKurnel an' Tad Jorth an' Jackson Jorth! ... Haw! Haw! Haw! Why, hell'd be a cooler place fer yu then this heah Tonto.'

  "Greaves an' his gang hed come round, sure tickled clean to thargizzards at this mess. I noticed, howsomever, thet they was Texansenough to keep back to one side in case this Isbel started anyaction.... Wal, Isbel took a look at Lorenzo. Then with one swift grabhe jerked the little greaser off his feet an' pulled him close.Lorenzo stopped grinnin'. He began to look a leetle sick. But it wasplain he hed right on his side.

  "'You say you saw me?' demanded Isbel.

  "'Si, senor,' replied Lorenzo.

  "What did you see?'

  "'I see senor an' senorita. I hide by manzanita. I see senorita likegrande senor ver mooch. She like senor keese. She--'

  "Then Isbel hit the little greaser a back-handed crack in the mouth.Sure it was a crack! Lorenzo went over the counter backward an' landedlike a pack load of wood. An' he didn't git up.

  "'Mister Bruce,' said Isbel, 'an' you fellars who heerd thet lyin'greaser, I did meet Ellen Jorth. An' I lost my head. I 'I kissedher.... But it was an accident. I meant no insult. I apologized--Itried to explain my crazy action.... Thet was all. The greaser lied.Ellen Jorth was kind enough to show me the trail. We talked a little.Then--I suppose--because she was young an' pretty an' sweet--I lost myhead. She was absolutely innocent. Thet damned greaser told abare-faced lie when he said she liked me. The fact was she despisedme. She said so. An' when she learned I was Jean Isbel she turned herback on me an' walked away."'

  At this point of his narrative the old man halted as if to impressEllen not only with what just had been told, but particularly with whatwas to follow. The reciting of this tale had evidently given Spraguean unconscious pleasure. He glowed. He seemed to carry the burden ofa secret that he yearned to divulge. As for Ellen, she was deadlockedin breathless suspense. All her emotions waited for the end. Shebegged Sprague to hurry.

  "Wal, I wish I could skip the next chapter an' hev only the last totell," rejoined the old man, and he put a heavy, but solicitous, handupon hers.... Simm Bruce haw-hawed loud an' loud.... 'Say, Nez Perce,'he calls out, most insolent-like, 'we air too good sheepmen heah to hevthe wool pulled over our eyes. We shore know what y'u meant by EllenJorth. But y'u wasn
't smart when y'u told her y'u was Jean Isbel! ...Haw-haw!'

  "Isbel flashed a strange, surprised look from the red-faced Bruce toGreaves and to the other men. I take it he was wonderin' if he'd heerdright or if they'd got the same hunch thet 'd come to him. An' I reckonhe determined to make sure.

  "'Why wasn't I smart?' he asked.

  "'Shore y'u wasn't smart if y'u was aimin' to be one of Ellen Jorth'slovers,' said Bruce, with a leer. 'Fer if y'u hedn't give y'urselfaway y'u could hev been easy enough.'

  "Thar was no mistakin' Bruce's meanin' an' when he got it out some ofthe men thar laughed. Isbel kept lookin' from one to another of them.Then facin' Greaves, he said, deliberately: 'Greaves, this drunkenBruce is excuse enough fer a show-down. I take it that you aresheepmen, an' you're goin' on Jorth's side of the fence in the matterof this sheep rangin'.'

  "'Wal, Nez Perce, I reckon you hit plumb center,' said Greaves, dryly.He spread wide his big hands to the other men, as if to say they'dmight as well own the jig was up.

  "'All right. You're Jorth's backers. Have any of you a word to say inEllen Jorth's defense? I tell you the Mexican lied. Believin' me ornot doesn't matter. But this vile-mouthed Bruce hinted against thetgirl's honor.'

  "Ag'in some of the men laughed, but not so noisy, an' there was anervous shufflin' of feet. Isbel looked sort of queer. His neck had abulge round his collar. An' his eyes was like black coals of fire.Greaves spread his big hands again, as if to wash them of this part ofthe dirty argument.

  "'When it comes to any wimmen I pass--much less play a hand fer awildcat like Jorth's gurl,' said Greaves, sort of cold an' thick.'Bruce shore ought to know her. Accordin' to talk heahaboots an' whatHE says, Ellen Jorth has been his gurl fer two years.'

  "Then Isbel turned his attention to Bruce an' I fer one begun to shakein my boots.

  "'Say thet to me!' he called.

  "'Shore she's my gurl, an' thet's why Im a-goin' to hev y'u run offthis range.'

  "Isbel jumped at Bruce. 'You damned drunken cur! You vile-mouthedliar! ... I may be an Isbel, but by God you cain't slander thet girl tomy face! ... Then he moved so quick I couldn't see what he did. But Iheerd his fist hit Bruce. It sounded like an ax ag'in' a beef. Brucefell clear across the room. An' by Jinny when he landed Isbel wasthar. As Bruce staggered up, all bloody-faced, bellowin' an' spittin'out teeth Isbel eyed Greaves's crowd an' said: 'If any of y'u make amove it 'll mean gun-play.' Nobody moved, thet's sure. In fact, noneof Greaves's outfit was packin' guns, at least in sight. When Bruce gotall the way up--he's a tall fellar--why Isbel took a full swing at himan' knocked him back across the room ag'in' the counter. Y'u know whena fellar's hurt by the way he yells. Bruce got thet second smash righton his big red nose.... I never seen any one so quick as Isbel. Hevaulted over thet counter jest the second Bruce fell back on it, an'then, with Greaves's gang in front so he could catch any moves oftheirs, he jest slugged Bruce right an' left, an' banged his head onthe counter. Then as Bruce sunk limp an' slipped down, lookin' like abloody sack, Isbel let him fall to the floor. Then he vaulted backover the counter. Wipin' the blood off his hands, he throwed hiskerchief down in Bruce's face. Bruce wasn't dead or bad hurt. He'djest been beaten bad. He was moanin' an' slobberin'. Isbel kicked him,not hard, but jest sort of disgustful. Then he faced thet crowd.'Greaves, thet's what I think of your Simm Bruce. Tell him next timehe sees me to run or pull a gun.' An' then Isbel grabbed his rifle an'package off the counter an' went out. He didn't even look back. Iseen him nount his horse an' ride away.... Now, girl, what hev you tosay?"

  Ellen could only say good-by and the word was so low as to be almostinaudible. She ran to her burro. She could not see very clearlythrough tear-blurred eyes, and her shaking fingers were all thumbs. Itseemed she had to rush away--somewhere, anywhere--not to get away fromold John Sprague, but from herself--this palpitating, bursting selfwhose feet stumbled down the trail. All--all seemed ended for her.That interminable story! It had taken so long. And every minute of itshe had been helplessly torn asunder by feelings she had never knownshe possessed. This Ellen Jorth was an unknown creature. She sobbednow as she dragged the burro down the canyon trail. She sat down onlyto rise. She hurried only to stop. Driven, pursued, barred, she hadno way to escape the flaying thoughts, no time or will to repudiatethem. The death of her girlhood, the rending aside of a veil of maidenmystery only vaguely instinctively guessed, the barren, sordid truth ofher life as seen by her enlightened eyes, the bitter realization of thevileness of men of her clan in contrast to the manliness and chivalryof an enemy, the hard facts of unalterable repute as created by slanderand fostered by low minds, all these were forces in a cataclysm thathad suddenly caught her heart and whirled her through changes immenseand agonizing, to bring her face to face with reality, to force uponher suspicion and doubt of all she had trusted, to warn her of thedark, impending horror of a tragic bloody feud, and lastly to teach herthe supreme truth at once so glorious and so terrible--that she couldnot escape the doom of womanhood.

  About noon that day Ellen Jorth arrived at the Knoll, which was thelocation of her father's ranch. Three canyons met there to form alarger one. The knoll was a symmetrical hill situated at the mouth ofthe three canyons. It was covered with brush and cedars, with here andthere lichened rocks showing above the bleached grass. Below the Knollwas a wide, grassy flat or meadow through which a willow-borderedstream cut its rugged boulder-strewn bed. Water flowed abundantly atthis season, and the deep washes leading down from the slopes attestedto the fact of cloudbursts and heavy storms. This meadow valley wasdotted with horses and cattle, and meandered away between the timberedslopes to lose itself in a green curve. A singular feature of thiscanyon was that a heavy growth of spruce trees covered the slope facingnorthwest; and the opposite slope, exposed to the sun and thereforeless snowbound in winter, held a sparse growth of yellow pines. Theranch house of Colonel Jorth stood round the rough corner of the largestof the three canyons, and rather well hidden, it did not obtrude itsrude and broken-down log cabins, its squalid surroundings, its blackmud-holes of corrals upon the beautiful and serene meadow valley.

  Ellen Jorth approached her home slowly, with dragging, reluctant steps;and never before in the three unhappy years of her existence there hadthe ranch seemed so bare, so uncared for, so repugnant to her. As shehad seen herself with clarified eyes, so now she saw her home. Thecabin that Ellen lived in with her father was a single-room structurewith one door and no windows. It was about twenty feet square. Thehuge, ragged, stone chimney had been built on the outside, with thewide open fireplace set inside the logs. Smoke was rising from thechimney. As Ellen halted at the door and began unpacking her burro sheheard the loud, lazy laughter of men. An adjoining log cabin had beenbuilt in two sections, with a wide roofed hall or space between them.The door in each cabin faced the other, and there was a tall manstanding in one. Ellen recognized Daggs, a neighbor sheepman, whoevidently spent more time with her father than at his own home,wherever that was. Ellen had never seen it. She heard this man drawl,"Jorth, heah's your kid come home."

  Ellen carried her bed inside the cabin, and unrolled it upon a couchbuilt of boughs in the far corner. She had forgotten Jean Isbel'spackage, and now it fell out under her sight. Quickly she covered it.A Mexican woman, relative of Antonio, and the only servant about theplace, was squatting Indian fashion before the fireplace, stirring apot of beans. She and Ellen did not get along well together, and fewwords ever passed between them. Ellen had a canvas curtain stretchedupon a wire across a small triangular corner, and this afforded her alittle privacy. Her possessions were limited in number. The crudesquare table she had constructed herself. Upon it was a littleold-fashioned walnut-framed mirror, a brush and comb, and a dilapidatedebony cabinet which contained odds and ends the sight of which alwaysbrought a smile of derisive self-pity to her lips. Under the tablestood an old leather trunk. It had come with her from Texas, andcontained clothing and belongings of her mother
's. Above the couch onpegs hung her scant wardrobe. A tiny shelf held several worn-out books.

  When her father slept indoors, which was seldom except in winter, heoccupied a couch in the opposite corner. A rude cupboard had beenbuilt against the logs next to the fireplace. It contained suppliesand utensils. Toward the center, somewhat closer to the door, stood acrude table and two benches. The cabin was dark and smelled of smoke,of the stale odors of past cooked meals, of the mustiness of dry,rotting timber. Streaks of light showed through the roof where therough-hewn shingles had split or weathered. A strip of bacon hung uponone side of the cupboard, and upon the other a haunch of venison.Ellen detested the Mexican woman because she was dirty. The inside ofthe cabin presented the same unkempt appearance usual to it after Ellenhad been away for a few days. Whatever Ellen had lost during theretrogression of the Jorths, she had kept her habits of cleanliness,and straightway upon her return she set to work.

  The Mexican woman sullenly slouched away to her own quarters outsideand Ellen was left to the satisfaction of labor. Her mind was as busyas her hands. As she cleaned and swept and dusted she heard from timeto time the voices of men, the clip-clop of shod horses, the bellow ofcattle. And a considerable time elapsed before she was disturbed.

  A tall shadow darkened the doorway.

  "Howdy, little one!" said a lazy, drawling voice. "So y'u-all gothome?"

  Ellen looked up. A superbly built man leaned against the doorpost.Like most Texans, he was light haired and light eyed. His face waslined and hard. His long, sandy mustache hid his mouth and droopedwith a curl. Spurred, booted, belted, packing a heavy gun low down onhis hip, he gave Ellen an entirely new impression. Indeed, she wasseeing everything strangely.

  "Hello, Daggs!" replied Ellen. "Where's my dad?"

  "He's playin' cairds with Jackson an' Colter. Shore's playin' bad,too, an' it's gone to his haid."

  "Gamblin'?" queried Ellen.

  "Mah child, when'd Kurnel Jorth ever play for fun?" said Daggs, with alazy laugh. "There's a stack of gold on the table. Reckon yo' uncleJackson will win it. Colter's shore out of luck."

  Daggs stepped inside. He was graceful and slow. His long' spursclinked. He laid a rather compelling hand on Ellen's shoulder.

  "Heah, mah gal, give us a kiss," he said.

  "Daggs, I'm not your girl," replied Ellen as she slipped out from underhis hand.

  Then Daggs put his arm round her, not with violence or rudeness, butwith an indolent, affectionate assurance, at once bold andself-contained. Ellen, however, had to exert herself to get free ofhim, and when she had placed the table between them she looked himsquare in the eyes.

  "Daggs, y'u keep your paws off me," she said.

  "Aw, now, Ellen, I ain't no bear," he remonstrated. "What's thematter, kid?"

  "I'm not a kid. And there's nothin' the matter. Y'u're to keep yourhands to yourself, that's all."

  He tried to reach her across the table, and his movements were lazy andslow, like his smile. His tone was coaxing.

  "Mah dear, shore you set on my knee just the other day, now, didn'tyou?"

  Ellen felt the blood sting her cheeks.

  "I was a child," she returned.

  "Wal, listen to this heah grown-up young woman. All in a few days! ...Doon't be in a temper, Ellen.... Come, give us a kiss."

  She deliberately gazed into his eyes. Like the eyes of an eagle, theywere clear and hard, just now warmed by the dalliance of the moment,but there was no light, no intelligence in them to prove he understoodher. The instant separated Ellen immeasurably from him and from all ofhis ilk.

  "Daggs, I was a child," she said. "I was lonely--hungry foraffection--I was innocent. Then I was careless, too, and thoughtlesswhen I should have known better. But I hardly understood y'u men. Iput such thoughts out of my mind. I know now--know what y'u mean--whaty'u have made people believe I am."

  "Ahuh! Shore I get your hunch," he returned, with a change of tone."But I asked you to marry me?"

  "Yes y'u did. The first day y'u got heah to my dad's house. And y'uasked me to marry y'u after y'u found y'u couldn't have your way withme. To y'u the one didn't mean any more than the other."

  "Shore I did more than Simm Bruce an' Colter," he retorted. "They neverasked you to marry."

  "No, they didn't. And if I could respect them at all I'd do it becausethey didn't ask me."

  "Wal, I'll be dog-goned!" ejaculated Daggs, thoughtfully, as he strokedhis long mustache.

  "I'll say to them what I've said to y'u," went on Ellen. "I'll telldad to make y'u let me alone. I wouldn't marry one of y'u--y'u loafersto save my life. I've my suspicions about y'u. Y'u're a bad lot."

  Daggs changed subtly. The whole indolent nonchalance of the manvanished in an instant.

  "Wal, Miss Jorth, I reckon you mean we're a bad lot of sheepmen?" hequeried, in the cool, easy speech of a Texan.

  "No," flashed Ellen. "Shore I don't say sheepmen. I say y'u're a BADLOT."

  "Oh, the hell you say!" Daggs spoke as he might have spoken to a man;then turning swiftly on his heel he left her. Outside he encounteredEllen's father. She heard Daggs speak: "Lee, your little wildcat isshore heah. An' take mah hunch. Somebody has been talkin' to her."

  "Who has?" asked her father, in his husky voice. Ellen knew at oncethat he had been drinking.

  "Lord only knows," replied Daggs. "But shore it wasn't any friends ofours."

  "We cain't stop people's tongues," said Jorth, resignedly

  "Wal, I ain't so shore," continued Daggs, with his slow, cool laugh."Reckon I never yet heard any daid men's tongues wag."

  Then the musical tinkle of his spurs sounded fainter. A moment laterEllen's father entered the cabin. His dark, moody face brightened atsight of her. Ellen knew she was the only person in the world left forhim to love. And she was sure of his love. Her very presence alwaysmade him different. And through the years, the darker theirmisfortunes, the farther he slipped away from better days, the more sheloved him.

  "Hello, my Ellen!" he said, and he embraced her. When he had beendrinking he never kissed her. "Shore I'm glad you're home. This heahhole is bad enough any time, but when you're gone it's black.... I'mhungry."

  Ellen laid food and drink on the table; and for a little while she didnot look directly at him. She was concerned about this new searchingpower of her eyes. In relation to him she vaguely dreaded it.

  Lee Jorth had once been a singularly handsome man. He was tall, butdid not have the figure of a horseman. His dark hair was streaked withgray, and was white over his ears. His face was sallow and thin, withdeep lines. Under his round, prominent, brown eyes, like deadenedfurnaces, were blue swollen welts. He had a bitter mouth and weakchin, not wholly concealed by gray mustache and pointed beard. He worea long frock coat and a wide-brimmed sombrero, both black in color, andso old and stained and frayed that along with the fashion of them theybetrayed that they had come from Texas with him. Jorth alwayspersisted in wearing a white linen shirt, likewise a relic of hisSouthern prosperity, and to-day it was ragged and soiled as usual.

  Ellen watched her father eat and waited for him to speak. It occuredto her strangely that he never asked about the sheep or the new-bornlambs. She divined with a subtle new woman's intuition that he carednothing for his sheep.

  "Ellen, what riled Daggs?" inquired her father, presently. "He shorehad fire in his eye."

  Long ago Ellen had betrayed an indignity she had suffered at the handsof a man. Her father had nearly killed him. Since then she had takencare to keep her troubles to herself. If her father had not been blindand absorbed in his own brooding he would have seen a thousand thingssufficient to inflame his Southern pride and temper.

  "Daggs asked me to marry him again and I said he belonged to a badlot," she replied.

  Jorth laughed in scorn. "Fool! My God! Ellen, I must have dragged youlow--that every damned ru--er--sheepman--who comes along thinks he canmarry you."

  A
t the break in his words, the incompleted meaning, Ellen dropped hereyes. Little things once never noted by her were now come to have afascinating significance.

  "Never mind, dad," she replied. "They cain't marry me."

  "Daggs said somebody had been talkin' to you. How aboot that?"

  "Old John Sprague has just gotten back from Grass Valley," said Ellen."I stopped in to see him. Shore he told me all the village gossip."

  "Anythin' to interest me?" he queried, darkly.

  "Yes, dad, I'm afraid a good deal," she said, hesitatingly. Then inaccordance with a decision Ellen had made she told him of the rumoredwar between sheepmen and cattlemen; that old Isbel had Blaisdell,Gordon, Fredericks, Blue and other well-known ranchers on his side;that his son Jean Isbel had come from Oregon with a wonderfulreputation as fighter and scout and tracker; that it was no secret howColonel Lee Jorth was at the head of the sheepmen; that a bloody warwas sure to come.

  "Hah!" exclaimed Jorth, with a stain of red in his sallow cheek."Reckon none of that is news to me. I knew all that."

  Ellen wondered if he had heard of her meeting with Jean Isbel. If nothe would hear as soon as Simm Bruce and Lorenzo came back. She decidedto forestall them.

  "Dad, I met Jean Isbel. He came into my camp. Asked the way to theRim. I showed him. We--we talked a little. And shore were gettin'acquainted when--when he told me who he was. Then I left him--hurriedback to camp."

  "Colter met Isbel down in the woods," replied Jorth, ponderingly. "Saidhe looked like an Indian--a hard an' slippery customer to reckon with."

  "Shore I guess I can indorse what Colter said," returned Ellen, dryly.She could have laughed aloud at her deceit. Still she had not lied.

  "How'd this heah young Isbel strike you?" queried her father, suddenlyglancing up at her.

  Ellen felt the slow, sickening, guilty rise of blood in her face. Shewas helpless to stop it. But her father evidently never saw it. He waslooking at her without seeing her.

  "He--he struck me as different from men heah," she stammered.

  "Did Sprague tell you aboot this half-Indian Isbel--aboot hisreputation?"

  "Yes."

  "Did he look to you like a real woodsman?"

  "Indeed he did. He wore buckskin. He stepped quick and soft. Heacted at home in the woods. He had eyes black as night and sharp aslightnin'. They shore saw about all there was to see."

  Jorth chewed at his mustache and lost himself in brooding thought.

  "Dad, tell me, is there goin' to be a war?" asked Ellen, presently.

  What a red, strange, rolling flash blazed in his eyes! His body jerked.

  "Shore. You might as well know."

  "Between sheepmen and cattlemen?"

  "Yes."

  "With y'u, dad, at the haid of one faction and Gaston Isbel the other?"

  "Daughter, you have it correct, so far as you go."

  "Oh! ... Dad, can't this fight be avoided?"

  "You forget you're from Texas," he replied.

  "Cain't it be helped?" she repeated, stubbornly.

  "No!" he declared, with deep, hoarse passion.

  "Why not?"

  "Wal, we sheepmen are goin' to run sheep anywhere we like on the range.An' cattlemen won't stand for that."

  "But, dad, it's so foolish," declared Ellen, earnestly. "Y'u sheepmendo not have to run sheep over the cattle range."

  "I reckon we do."

  "Dad, that argument doesn't go with me. I know the country. For yearsto come there will be room for both sheep and cattle withoutoverrunnin'. If some of the range is better in water and grass, thenwhoever got there first should have it. That shore is only fair. It'scommon sense, too."

  "Ellen, I reckon some cattle people have been prejudicin' you," saidJorth, bitterly.

  "Dad!" she cried, hotly.

  This had grown to be an ordeal for Jorth. He seemed a victim ofcontending tides of feeling. Some will or struggle broke within himand the change was manifest. Haggard, shifty-eyed, with wabbling chin,he burst into speech.

  "See heah, girl. You listen. There's a clique of ranchers down in theBasin, all those you named, with Isbel at their haid. They haveresented sheepmen comin' down into the valley. They want it all tothemselves. That's the reason. Shore there's another. All the Isbelsare crooked. They're cattle an' horse thieves--have been for years.Gaston Isbel always was a maverick rustler. He's gettin' old now an'rich, so he wants to cover his tracks. He aims to blame this cattlerustlin' an' horse stealin' on to us sheepmen, an' run us out of thecountry."

  Gravely Ellen Jorth studied her father's face, and the newly foundtruth-seeing power of her eyes did not fail her. In part, perhaps inall, he was telling lies. She shuddered a little, loyally battlingagainst the insidious convictions being brought to fruition. Perhapsin his brooding over his failures and troubles he leaned toward falsejudgments. Ellen could not attach dishonor to her father's motives orspeeches. For long, however, something about him had troubled her,perplexed her. Fearfully she believed she was coming to somerevelation, and, despite her keen determination to know, she foundherself shrinking.

  "Dad, mother told me before she died that the Isbels had ruined you,"said Ellen, very low. It hurt her so to see her father cover his facethat she could hardly go on. "If they ruined you they ruined all ofus. I know what we had once--what we lost again and again--and I seewhat we are come to now. Mother hated the Isbels. She taught me tohate the very name. But I never knew how they ruined you--or why--orwhen. And I want to know now."

  Then it was not the face of a liar that Jorth disclosed. The presentwas forgotten. He lived in the past. He even seemed younger 'in therevivifying flash of hate that made his face radiant. The lines burnedout. Hate gave him back the spirit of his youth.

  "Gaston Isbel an' I were boys together in Weston, Texas," began Jorth,in swift, passionate voice. "We went to school together. We loved thesame girl--your mother. When the war broke out she was engaged toIsbel. His family was rich. They influenced her people. But sheloved me. When Isbel went to war she married me. He came back an'faced us. God! I'll never forget that. Your mother confessed herunfaithfulness--by Heaven! She taunted him with it. Isbel accused meof winnin' her by lies. But she took the sting out of that.

  "Isbel never forgave her an' he hounded me to ruin. He made me out acard-sharp, cheatin' my best friends. I was disgraced. Later hetangled me in the courts--he beat me out of property--an' last byconvictin' me of rustlin' cattle he run me out of Texas."

  Black and distorted now, Jorth's face was a spectacle to make Ellensick with a terrible passion of despair and hate. The truth of herfather's ruin and her own were enough. What mattered all else? Jorthbeat the table with fluttering, nerveless hands that seemed all themore significant for their lack of physical force.

  "An' so help me God, it's got to be wiped out in blood!" he hissed.

  That was his answer to the wavering and nobility of Ellen. And she inher turn had no answer to make. She crept away into the corner behindthe curtain, and there on her couch in the semidarkness she lay withstrained heart, and a resurging, unconquerable tumult in her mind. Andshe lay there from the middle of that afternoon until the next morning.

  When she awakened she expected to be unable to rise--she hoped shecould not--but life seemed multiplied in her, and inaction wasimpossible. Something young and sweet and hopeful that had been in herdid not greet the sun this morning. In their place was a woman'spassion to learn for herself, to watch events, to meet what must come,to survive.

  After breakfast, at which she sat alone, she decided to put Isbel'spackage out of the way, so that it would not be subjecting her tocontinual annoyance. The moment she picked it up the old curiosityassailed her.

  "Shore I'll see what it is, anyway," she muttered, and with swift handsshe opened the package. The action disclosed two pairs of fine, softshoes, of a style she had never seen, and four pairs of stockings, twoof strong, serviceable wool, and the
others of a finer texture. Ellenlooked at them in amaze. Of all things in the world, these would havebeen the last she expected to see. And, strangely, they were what shewanted and needed most. Naturally, then, Ellen made the mistake oftaking them in her hands to feel their softness and warmth.

  "Shore! He saw my bare legs! And he brought me these presents he'dintended for his sister.... He was ashamed for me--sorry for me.... AndI thought he looked at me bold-like, as I'm used to be looked at heah!Isbel or not, he's shore..."

  But Ellen Jorth could not utter aloud the conviction her intelligencetried to force upon her.

  "It'd be a pity to burn them," she mused. "I cain't do it. Sometime Imight send them to Ann Isbel."

  Whereupon she wrapped them up again and hid them in the bottom of theold trunk, and slowly, as she lowered the lid, looking darkly, blanklyat the wall, she whispered: "Jean Isbel! ... I hate him!"

  Later when Ellen went outdoors she carried her rifle, which was unusualfor her, unless she intended to go into the woods.

  The morning was sunny and warm. A group of shirt-sleeved men loungedin the hall and before the porch of the double cabin. Her father waspacing up and down, talking forcibly. Ellen heard his hoarse voice. Asshe approached he ceased talking and his listeners relaxed theirattention. Ellen's glance ran over them swiftly--Daggs, with hissuperb head, like that of a hawk, uncovered to the sun; Colter with hislowered, secretive looks, his sand-gray lean face; Jackson Jorth, heruncle, huge, gaunt, hulking, with white in his black beard and hair,and the fire of a ghoul in his hollow eyes; Tad Jorth, another brotherof her father's, younger, red of eye and nose, a weak-chinned drinkerof rum. Three other limber-legged Texans lounged there, partners ofDaggs, and they were sun-browned, light-haired, blue-eyed mensingularly alike in appearance, from their dusty high-heeled boots totheir broad black sombreros. They claimed to be sheepmen. All Ellencould be sure of was that Rock Wells spent most of his time there,doing nothing but look for a chance to waylay her; Springer was agambler; and the third, who answered to the strange name of Queen, wasa silent, lazy, watchful-eyed man who never wore a glove on his righthand and who never was seen without a gun within easy reach of thathand.

  "Howdy, Ellen. Shore you ain't goin' to say good mawnin' to this heahbad lot?" drawled Daggs, with good-natured sarcasm.

  "Why, shore! Good morning, y'u hard-working industrious MANANA sheepraisers," replied Ellen, coolly.

  Daggs stared. The others appeared taken back by a greeting so foreignfrom any to which they were accustomed from her. Jackson Jorth let outa gruff haw-haw. Some of them doffed their sombreros, and Rock Wellsmanaged a lazy, polite good morning. Ellen's father seemed mostsignificantly struck by her greeting, and the least amused.

  "Ellen, I'm not likin' your talk," he said, with a frown.

  "Dad, when y'u play cards don't y'u call a spade a spade?"

  "Why, shore I do."

  "Well, I'm calling spades spades."

  "Ahuh!" grunted Jorth, furtively dropping his eyes. "Where you goin'with your gun? I'd rather you hung round heah now."

  "Reckon I might as well get used to packing my gun all the time,"replied Ellen. "Reckon I'll be treated more like a man."

  Then the event Ellen had been expecting all morning took place. SimmBruce and Lorenzo rode around the slope of the Knoll and trotted towardthe cabin. Interest in Ellen was relegated to the background.

  "Shore they're bustin' with news," declared Daggs.

  "They been ridin' some, you bet," remarked another.

  "Huh!" exclaimed Jorth. "Bruce shore looks queer to me."

  "Red liquor," said Tad Jorth, sententiously. "You-all know the brandGreaves hands out."

  "Naw, Simm ain't drunk," said Jackson Jorth. "Look at his bloodyshirt."

  The cool, indolent interest of the crowd vanished at the red colorpointed out by Jackson Jorth. Daggs rose in a single springy motion tohis lofty height. The face Bruce turned to Jorth was swollen andbruised, with unhealed cuts. Where his right eye should have beenshowed a puffed dark purple bulge. His other eye, however, gleamedwith hard and sullen light. He stretched a big shaking hand towardJorth.

  "Thet Nez Perce Isbel beat me half to death," he bellowed.

  Jorth stared hard at the tragic, almost grotesque figure, at thebattered face. But speech failed him. It was Daggs who answered Bruce.

  "Wal, Simm, I'll be damned if you don't look it."

  "Beat you! What with?" burst out Jorth, explosively.

  "I thought he was swingin' an ax, but Greaves swore it was his fists,"bawled Bruce, in misery and fury.

  "Where was your gun?" queried Jorth, sharply.

  "Gun? Hell!" exclaimed Bruce, flinging wide his arms. "Ask Lorenzo. Hehad a gun. An' he got a biff in the jaw before my turn come. Ask him?"

  Attention thus directed to the Mexican showed a heavy discoloredswelling upon the side of his olive-skinned face. Lorenzo looked onlyserious.

  "Hah! Speak up," shouted Jorth, impatiently.

  "Senor Isbel heet me ver quick," replied Lorenzo, with expressivegesture. "I see thousand stars--then moocho black--all like night."

  At that some of Daggs's men lolled back with dry crisp laughter.Daggs's hard face rippled with a smile. But there was no humor inanything for Colonel Jorth.

  "Tell us what come off. Quick!" he ordered. "Where did it happen?Why? Who saw it? What did you do?"

  Bruce lapsed into a sullen impressiveness. "Wal, I happened inGreaves's store an' run into Jean Isbel. Shore was lookin' fer him. Ihad my mind made up what to do, but I got to shootin' off my gabinstead of my gun. I called him Nez Perce--an' I throwed all thet talkin his face about old Gass Isbel sendin' fer him---an' I told him he'dgit run out of the Tonto. Reckon I was jest warmin' up.... But then itall happened. He slugged Lorenzo jest one. An' Lorenzo slidpeaceful-like to bed behind the counter. I hadn't time to think ofthrowin' a gun before he whaled into me. He knocked out two of myteeth. An' I swallered one of them."

  Ellen stood in the background behind three of the men and in theshadow. She did not join in the laugh that followed Bruce's remarks.She had known that he would lie. Uncertain yet of her reaction tothis, but more bitter and furious as he revealed his utter baseness,she waited for more to be said.

  "Wal, I'll be doggoned," drawled Daggs.

  "What do you make of this kind of fightin'?" queried Jorth,

  "Darn if I know," replied Daggs in perplexity. "Shore an' sartin it'snot the way of a Texan. Mebbe this young Isbel really is what old Gassswears he is. Shore Bruce ain't nothin' to give an edge to a real gunfighter. Looks to me like Isbel bluffed Greaves an' his gang an'licked your men without throwin' a gun."

  "Maybe Isbel doesn't want the name of drawin' first blood," suggestedJorth.

  "That 'd be like Gass," spoke up Rock Wells, quietly. "I onct rode ferGass in Texas."

  "Say, Bruce," said Daggs, "was this heah palaverin' of yours an' JeanIsbel's aboot the old stock dispute? Aboot his father's range an'water? An' partickler aboot, sheep?"

  "Wal--I--I yelled a heap," declared Bruce, haltingly, "but I don'trecollect all I said--I was riled.... Shore, though it was the same oldargyment thet's been fetchin' us closer an' closer to trouble."

  Daggs removed his keen hawklike gaze from Bruce. "Wal, Jorth, all I'llsay is this. If Bruce is tellin' the truth we ain't got a hell of alot to fear from this young Isbel. I've known a heap of gun fightersin my day. An' Jean Isbel don't ran true to class. Shore there neverwas a gunman who'd risk cripplin' his right hand by sluggin' anybody."

  "Wal," broke in Bruce, sullenly. "You-all can take it daid straight ornot. I don't give a damn. But you've shore got my hunch thet NezPerce Isbel is liable to handle any of you fellars jest as he did me,an' jest as easy. What's more, he's got Greaves figgered. An' you-allknow thet Greaves is as deep in--"

  "Shut up that kind of gab," demanded Jorth, stridently. "An' answerme. Was the row in Greaves's barroom aboot sheep?"

 
"Aw, hell! I said so, didn't I?" shouted Bruce, with a fierce upliftof his distorted face.

  Ellen strode out from the shadow of the tall men who had obscured her.

  "Bruce, y'u're a liar," she said, bitingly.

  The surprise of her sudden appearance seemed to root Bruce to the spot.All but the discolored places on his face turned white. He held hisbreath a moment, then expelled it hard. His effort to recover from theshock was painfully obvious. He stammered incoherently.

  "Shore y'u're more than a liar, too," cried Ellen, facing him withblazing eyes. And the rifle, gripped in both hands, seemed to declareher intent of menace. "That row was not about sheep.... Jean Isbeldidn't beat y'u for anythin' about sheep.... Old John Sprague was inGreaves's store. He heard y'u. He saw Jean Isbel beat y'u as y'udeserved.... An' he told ME!"

  Ellen saw Bruce shrink in fear of his life; and despite her fury shewas filled with disgust that he could imagine she would have his bloodon her hands. Then she divined that Bruce saw more in the gatheringstorm in her father's eyes than he had to fear from her.

  "Girl, what the hell are y'u sayin'?" hoarsely called Jorth, in darkamaze.

  "Dad, y'u leave this to me," she retorted.

  Daggs stepped beside Jorth, significantly on his right side. "Let heralone Lee," he advised, coolly. "She's shore got a hunch on Bruce."

  "Simm Bruce, y'u cast a dirty slur on my name," cried Ellen,passionately.

  It was then that Daggs grasped Jorth's right arm and held it tight,"Jest what I thought," he said. "Stand still, Lee. Let's see the kidmake him showdown."

  "That's what jean Isbel beat y'u for," went on Ellen. "For slanderinga girl who wasn't there.... Me! Y'u rotten liar!"

  "But, Ellen, it wasn't all lies," said Bruce, huskily. "I was halfdrunk--an' horrible jealous.... You know Lorenzo seen Isbel kissin'you. I can prove thet."

  Ellen threw up her head and a scarlet wave of shame and wrath floodedher face.

  "Yes," she cried, ringingly. "He saw Jean Isbel kiss me. Once! ... An'it was the only decent kiss I've had in years. He meant no insult. Ididn't know who he was. An' through his kiss I learned a differencebetween men.... Y'u made Lorenzo lie. An' if I had a shred of goodname left in Grass Valley you dishonored it.... Y'u made him think Iwas your girl! Damn y'u! I ought to kill y'u.... Eat your wordsnow--take them back--or I'll cripple y'u for life!"

  Ellen lowered the cocked rifle toward his feet.

  "Shore, Ellen, I take back--all I said," gulped Bruce. He gazed at thequivering rifle barrel and then into the face of Ellen's father.Instinct told him where his real peril lay.

  Here the cool and tactful Daggs showed himself master of the situation.

  "Heah, listen!" he called. "Ellen, I reckon Bruce was drunk an' out ofhis haid. He's shore ate his words. Now, we don't want any cripplesin this camp. Let him alone. Your dad got me heah to lead the Jorths,an' that's my say to you.... Simm, you're shore a low-down lyin'rascal. Keep away from Ellen after this or I'll bore you myself....Jorth, it won't be a bad idee for you to forget you're a Texan till youcool off. Let Bruce stop some Isbel lead. Shore the Jorth-Isbel waris aboot on, an' I reckon we'd be smart to believe old Gass's talkaboot his Nez Perce son."