by Zane Grey
“Then there ain’t any use saying any more about it. You always was a willful son-of-a-gun,” testified his partner, with a grin. “And I reckon I’ll have to stay with you to pack you home after the greasers have shot you up.”
“Don’t you ever think it, Steve,” came back the cheerful retort. “I’ve got a hunch this is my lucky game. I’m sitting in to win, old hoss.”
“What’s your first play, Dick?”
“I made it last week, within twenty minutes of the time I got back here. Wired my lawyers to bring suit at once, and to push it for all it was worth.”
“You can’t settle it by the courts inside of a year, or mebbe two.”
“I ain’t aiming to settle it by the courts. All I want is they should know I’ve got them beat to a fare-ye-well in the courts. Their lawyers will let them know that mighty early, just as soon as they look the facts up. There ain’t any manner of doubt about my legal claim. I guess Miss Valdés knows that already, but I want her to know it good and sure. Then I’ll paddle my own canoe. The law’s only a bluff to make my hand better. I’m calling for that extra card for the looks of it, but my hand is full up without it”
“What’s in your hand, anyhow, outside of your legal right? Looks to me they hold them all from ace down.”
Dick laughed.
“You wait and see,” he said.
CHAPTER VII
TWO MESSAGES
Because Dick had always lived a clean, outdoor life he rallied magnificently from the relapse into which his indiscretion had thrown him. For a few days Dr. Watson was worried by reason of the danger of blood-poisoning, but the splendid vitality of his patient quickly swept him out of danger. Soon he was hobbling round with a cane, and shortly after was able to take long rides over the country with his friend.
On one of these occasions, while they were climbing a hill trail, Davis broke a long silence to say aloud to himself: “There’s just one way to account for it.”
“Then it can’t be a woman you’re thinking of,” Dick laughed; “for as far as I can make out there’s always several ways to account for them, and the one you guess usually ain’t right.”
“You’ve said it, son. It’s a woman. I been doing some inquiring about this Miss Valdés, and from all telling she’s the prettiest ever.”
“I could have told you that. It ain’t a secret.”
“I notice you didn’t tell me.”
“You didn’t ask, you old geezer.”
“Sho! You ain’t such a clam when it comes to pretty girls. You didn’t talk about her, because your haid’s been full of her. It don’t take a mind-reader to know that.”
“You’re ce’tainly a wizard, Steve,” came back his partner dryly.
“I know you and your little ways by this time.”
“So I’m in love, am I?”
“You’re there, or traveling there mighty fast. Course I don’t know about the lady.”
“What don’t you know about her?” asked Dick, who was by way of being both amused and pleased that the subject had been broached.
“How she feels about the proposition. She had you kicked out of the house. That looks kinder as if your show was slim. She did send over right often to see how you was getting along, but I reckon she didn’t want to feel responsible for your turning up your toes. Women are that way, even when they hate a man real thorough.”
“You’re quite an expert. I wonder you know so much about them, and you never married.”
To this sarcastic reminder Steve made philosophic reply. “Mebbe it was because I knew so much about them I never married.”
“You’re surely a wise old rooster. You think she hates me, then?”
Davis covered a grin. He knew from his friend’s tone that the barb had pierced the skin.
“Well, looking at it like a reasonable man, there ain’t any question about it. Soon as you begin to mend she quits taking any interest in you; don’t know you’re on the earth any more. A reasonable man—”
“A reasonable goat!” Dick reined up till the other horse was abreast of his, then dived into his pocket and handed Steve a letter. “She’s quit taking any interest in me, has she? Don’t know I’m on the earth, you old owl? Looks like it, and her sending me a letter this very day.”
Steve turned the square envelope around and weighed it in his hand.
“Am I to read this here billy doo?” he wanted to know.
“Yes, sir.”
Gravely the old miner opened and read the following:
“Miss Valdés begs to inform Mr. Gordon that she has reason to fear Mr. Gordon’s life is not safe in the present feeling of the country. Out of regard for her people, whom she would greatly regret to see in trouble, Miss Valdés would recommend Mr. Gordon to cut short his pleasure trip to New Mexico. Otherwise Miss Valdés declines any responsibility for the result.”
“Can’t be called very affectionate, can it?” was Mr. Davis’s comment. “Ain’t it jest a leetle mite—well, like she was writing with a poker down her back?”
“I didn’t say it was affectionate,” snorted the young man.
“Oh, I allowed you thought she was in love with you.”
“I didn’t say or think anything of the kind,” protested Dick indignantly. “I said she hadn’t forgotten me.”
“Well, she ain’t, if that’s any comfort.”
With which, Mr. Davis handed back the letter. “What did you answer to the billy doo?”
“I said that Mr. Gordon presented his compliments and begged to reply that he had large business interests in this part of the country that necessitated a visit of some length, and probably in the end a permanent residence here; and that he would very fully absolve Miss Valdés of any responsibility for his remaining.”
“Both of you used up a heap of dictionary words; but that wasn’t so bad, either,” grinned Steve. “You got back at her, all right, for the ‘pleasure trip’ part of her letter, but I expect you and she would disagree as to what that ‘permanent residence’ means. I hope it won’t be more permanent than you think.”
From the rocks above came the sound of an exploding rifle. Dick’s hat was lifted from his head as by a gust of wind. Immediately after they caught sight of a slim, boyish figure dodging among the rocks.
“There he goes,” cried Dick; and he slid from his saddle and took up the chase.
“Come back. There may be several of them up there,” called the old miner.
Gordon paid no attention; and Steve had nothing left to do but follow him up the rocky hillside.
“He’ll spoil that game leg of his again, first thing he knows,” the old-timer growled as he followed in the rear.
Presently a second shot rang out. Davis hastened forward as fast as he could.
At the top of the ridge he came on his companion sitting behind a rock.
“Lost him in these rocks, did you?” he asked.
A sardonic smile lit up the face of his friend.
“No, Steve, I found him; but he persuaded me I oughtn’t to travel so fast on this leg. You see, he had a rifle, and my six-gun was outclassed. I couldn’t get into range, and decided to hunt cover, after he took another crack at me.”
“I should think you’d know better than to go hunting bear with a twenty-two.”
“It ain’t a twenty-two; but, for a fact, it don’t carry a mile. I got what I want, though. I know who the gentleman is.”
“Sure it wasn’t a lady, Dick?”
“Don’t you, Steve,” warned Gordon. “She’s a lady and a Christian. You wouldn’t say that if you knew her. Besides, she saved my life.”
“Who was it? That Pesky fellow?”
“No. He’s hot-blooded; but he wouldn’t strike below the belt. He’s a gentleman. This was
one of the lads on her home-place, an eighteen-year-old boy named Pedro. He’s in love with her. I saw it soon as I set eyes on him the day I went there. He worships her as if she were a saint. Of course, he loves her without any hope; but that doesn’t keep him from being jealous of me. He’s heard about the row, and he thinks he’ll do her a service by putting me out of the game.”
“Sort of fix you up with that permanent residence you were talking about,” suggested Steve.
“He didn’t make good this time, anyhow. I’ll bet a hat he’d catch it if Miss Valdés knew what he had been doing.”
“She may be a Christian and all you say, Dick, but she don’t run a Sunday school on her ranch and train these young greasers proper. I don’t like this ambushing. They might git the wrong man.”
“I’m not partial to it, myself. That lead pill hummed awful close to me.”
They had by this time returned to the road, and Dick picked up his hat from the dust. There were two little round holes in the crown, and one in the brim.
“If he had shot an inch lower I would have qualified for that permanent residence, Steve,” Dick laughed.
“Hmp! Let’s get out of here pronto, Dick. I’m darned if I like to be the target at a shooting gallery. And next time I go riding there’s going to be a good old Winchester lying over my saddle-horn.”
Now, as very chance would have it, Miss Valdés, too, rode the hill trail that afternoon; and every step of the broncos lessened the distance between them.
They met at a turn of the steep path. Davis was in the lead, and the girl passed him just in time to meet Dick’s bow. It was a very respectful bow; but there was a humorous irony in the gray eyes that met hers, which hinted at a different story. She made as if to pass him, but, on an impulse, reined in. His ventilated hat came off again, as he waited for her to speak.
For an instant she let her gaze rest in his, the subdued crimson of her cheeks triumphant over the olive. But the color was not of embarrassment, and in her eyes shone the spirit of a descendant of old Don Alvaro de Valdés y Castillo. She sat her mount superbly; as jimp and erect as a willow sapling.
“You received a message from me this morning, sir,” she said haughtily.
“Yes, Miss Valdés; I received a message from you this morning and answered it. This afternoon I received one from one of your friends; but I haven’t answered that yet.”
As he spoke he let his eyes fall upon the hat in his hand.
Hers followed his, and she started in spite of herself.
“Did—did—were you shot at?” she asked, with dilating eyes.
“Oh, well! He didn’t hit me. It’s not worth mentioning.”
“Not worth mentioning? Who did it, sir? I demand to know who did it?”
He hesitated as he picked his words.
“You see—well—he was behind a rock, and not very close, at that.”
“But you knew him. I demand his name. He shall be punished. I myself will see to that.”
“I’ll do what punishing needs to be done, Miss Valdés. Much obliged to you, just the same.”
Her eyes flashed.
“You forget, sir, that they are my people. I gave orders—the very strictest orders. I told them that, no matter what you did or how far you went, you were not to be molested.”
“How far I went? You’ve been served with a legal notice, then? I thought you must have by this time.”
“Yes, sir, I have. But neither on that nor any other subject do I desire any conversation with you.”
“Of course not, me being a spy and all those other things you mentioned,” he said quietly.
“I stopped to tell you only one thing. You must leave this country. Prosecute your suit from a distance. My people are wrought up. You see for yourself now.” Her gauntlet indicated the hat.
“They do seem to be enthusiastic about hating me,” he agreed pleasantly. “I suppose I’m not what you would call popular here.”
She gave a gesture of annoyance.
“Can’t you understand that this is no time for flippancy? Can’t you make him see it, sir?” she called to Davis.
That gentleman shook his head.
“He’ll go his own way, I expect. He always was that bull-headed.”
“Firm—I call it,” smiled Gordon.
“I ask you to remember that he has had his warning,” the girl called to Steve.
“I’ve had several,” acknowledged Dick, his eyes again on the hat. “There won’t be anybody to blame but myself.”
“You know who shot at you. I saw it in your face. Tell me, and I will see that he is punished,” she urged.
Dick shook his head imperturbably.
“No; I reckon that wouldn’t do. I’m playing a lone hand. You’re on the other side. How can I come and ask you to fight my battles for me? That wouldn’t be playing the game. I’ll attend to the young man that mistook me for a rabbit.”
“Very well. As you like. But you are quite mistaken if you think I asked on your account. He had disobeyed my orders, and he deserved to pay for it. I have no further interest in the matter.”
“Certainly. I understand that. What interest could Miss Valdés have in a spy and a cheat?” he drawled negligently.
The young woman flushed, made as if to speak, then turned away abruptly.
She touched her pony with the spur, and as it took the outside of the slanting, narrow trail, its hoof slipped on loose gravel and went over the edge. Dick’s arm went out like a streak of lightning and caught the rein.
For an instant the issue hung in doubt whether he could hold the bronco and save her a nasty fall. The taut muscles of his lean arm and body grew rigid with the strain before the animal found its feet and the path.
“Thank you,” the young woman said quietly, and at once disengaged the rein from his fingers by a turn of the pony’s head.
Yet a moment, and she had disappeared round a bend in the trail. Gordon had observed with satisfaction that there had been no sign of fear in her eyes at the danger she faced, no screaming or wild clutching at his arm for help. Her word of thanks to him had been as cool and low as the rest of her talk.
“She’s that game. Ain’t she a thoroughbred, Steve?” demanded Dick, with deep delight in his fair foe.
“You bet she is. It’s a shame for you to be annoying her this way. Why don’t you come to an agreement with her?”
“She ain’t ready for that yet. When the time comes I’ll dictate the terms of the treaty. Don’t you think it’s about time for us to be heading back home?”
“Then we’ll meet your lady of the ranch quicker, won’t we?” chuckled Davis. “Funny you didn’t think about going back till after she had passed.”
But if Dick had hoped to see her again he was disappointed for that day, at least. They reached Corbett’s with never another glimpse of her; nor was there any sign of her horse in front of the post office and general store.
“Must have taken that lower trail that leads back to the ranch,” hazarded Gordon.
“I reckon,” agreed his friend. “Seems funny, too; her knowing you was on the upper one.”
“Guy me all you like. I can stand it,” returned Dick cheerfully.
For he had scored once in spite of her. He had saved her from a fall, at a place where, to say the least, it would have been dangerous. She had announced herself indifferent to his existence; but the very fact that she had felt called upon to say so gave denial to the statement. She might hate him, and she probably did; at least, she had him on her mind a good deal. The young man was sure of that. He was shrewdly of opinion that his chances were better if she hated him than if she never thought of him at all.
CHAPTER VIII
TAMING AN OUTLAW
“Something doing back of the co
rral, Mr. Gordon.”
Yeager, the horse-wrangler at Corbett’s, stopped in front of the porch, and jerked his head, with a twisted grin, in the direction indicated.
Everything about the little stableman was crooked. From the slope of his legs to the set of his bullet head on the narrow shoulders, he was awry. But he had an instinct about horses that was worth more than the beauty of any slim, tanned vaquero of the lot.
Only one horse had he failed to subdue. That was Teddy, a rakish sorrel that had never yet been ridden. Many had tried it, but none had stuck to the saddle to the finish; and some had been carried from the corral to the hospital.
Dick got up and strolled back, with his hands in his pockets.
A dozen vaqueros and loungers sat and stood around the mouth of the corral, from which a slim young Mexican was leading the sorrel.
“So, it’s you, Master Pedro,” thought the young American. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
The lad met his eyes quietly as he passed, giving him a sullen nod of greeting; evidently he hoped he had not been recognized as the previous day’s ambusher.
“Is Pedro going to ride the outcast?” Dick asked of Yeager, in surprise.
Yeager grinned.
“He’s going to try. The boy’s slap-up rider, but he ain’t got it in him to break Teddy—no, nor any man in New Mexico ain’t.”
Dick looked the horse over carefully, as it stood there while the boy tightened the girths—feet wide apart, small head low, and red eyes gleaming wickedly. Deep-chested, with mighty shoulders, barrel-bodied like an Indian pony, Teddy showed power in every line of him. It was easy to guess him for the unbroken outlaw he was.
There was a swift scatter backward of the onlookers as Pedro swung to the saddle. Before his right foot was in the stirrup, the bronco bucked.
