The Western Romance MEGAPACK ®: 20 Classic Tales

by Zane Grey

  “How—finish—it?” asked Cleve, hoarsely.

  Kells was scintillating now, steely, cold, radiant. He had forgotten the man before him in the prospect of the gold.

  “Creede’s cot is on the side of the tent opposite the tree. You won’t have to go inside. Slit the canvas. It’s a rotten old tent. Kill Creede with your knife.… Get his belt.… Be bold, cautious, swift! That’s your job. Now what do you say?”

  “All right,” responded Cleve, somberly, and with a heavy tread he left the room.

  After Jim had gone Joan still watched and listened. She was in distress over his unfortunate situation, but she had no fear that he meant to carry out Kells’s plan. This was a critical time for Jim, and therefore for her. She had no idea what Jim could do; all she thought was what he would not do.

  Kells gazed triumphantly at Pearce. “I told you the youngster would stand by me. I never put him on a job before.”

  “Reckon I figgered wrong, boss,” replied Pearce.

  “He looked sick to me, but game,” said Handy Oliver. “Kells is right, Red, an’ you’ve been sore-headed over nothin’!”

  “Mebbe. But ain’t it good figgerin’ to make Cleve do some kind of a job, even if he is on the square?”

  They all acquiesced to this, even Kells slowly nodding his head.

  “Jack, I’ve thought of another an’ better job for young Cleve,” spoke up Jesse Smith, with his characteristic grin.

  “You’ll all be setting him jobs now,” replied Kells. “What’s yours?”

  “You spoke of plannin’ to get together once more—what’s left of us. An’ there’s thet bull-head Gulden.”

  “You’re sure right,” returned the leader, grimly, and he looked at Smith as if he would welcome any suggestion.

  “I never was afraid to speak my mind,” went on Smith. Here he lost his grin and his coarse mouth grew hard. “Gulden will have to be killed if we’re goin’ to last!”

  “Wood, what do you say?” queried Kells, with narrowing eyes.

  Bate Wood nodded as approvingly as if he had been asked about his bread.

  “Oliver, what do you say?”

  “Wal, I’d love to wait an’ see Gul hang, but if you press me, I’ll agree to stand pat with the cards Jesse’s dealt,” replied Handy Oliver.

  Then Kells turned with a bright gleam upon his face. “And you—Pearce?”

  “I’d say yes in a minute if I’d not have to take a hand in thet job,” replied Pearce, with a hard laugh. “Gulden won’t be so easy to kill. He’ll pack a gunful of lead. I’ll gamble if the gang of us cornered him in this cabin he’d do for most of us before we killed him.”

  “Gul sleep alone, no one knows where,” said Handy Oliver. “An’ he can’t be surprised. Red’s correct. How’re we goin’ to kill him?”

  “If you gents will listen you’ll find out,” rejoined Jesse Smith. “Thet’s the job for young Cleve. He can do it. Sure Gulden never was afraid of any man. But somethin’ about Cleve bluffed him. I don’t know what. Send Cleve out after Gulden. He’ll call him face to face, anywhere, an’ beat him to a gun!… Take my word for it.”

  “Jesse, that’s the grandest idea you ever had,” said Kells, softly. His eyes shone. The old power came back to his face. “I split on Gulden. With him once out of the way—!”

  “Boss, are you goin’ to make thet Jim Cleve’s second job?” inquired Pearce, curiously.

  “I am,” replied Kells, with his jaw corded and stiff. “If he pulls thet off you’ll never hear a yap from me so long as I live. An’ I’ll eat out of Cleve’s hand.”

  Joan could bear to hear no more. She staggered to her bed and fell there, all cramped as if in a cold vise. However Jim might meet the situation planned for murdering Creede, she knew he would not shirk facing Gulden with deadly intent. He hated Gulden because she had a horror of him. Would these hours of suspense never end? Must she pass from one torture to another until—?

  Sleep did not come for a long time. And when it did she suffered with nightmares from which it seemed she could never awaken.

  The day, when at last it arrived, was no better than the night. It wore on endlessly, and she who listened so intently found it one of the silent days. Only Bate Wood remained at the cabin. He appeared kinder than usual, but Joan did not want to talk. She ate her meals, and passed the hours watching from the window and lying on the bed. Dusk brought Kells and Pearce and Smith, but not Jim Cleve. Handy Oliver and Blicky arrived at supper-time.

  “Reckon Jim’s appetite is pore,” remarked Bate Wood, reflectively. “He ain’t been in today.”

  Some of the bandits laughed, but Kells had a twinge, if Joan ever saw a man have one. The dark, formidable, stern look was on his face. He alone of the men ate sparingly, and after the meal he took to his bent posture and thoughtful pacing. Joan saw the added burden of another crime upon his shoulders. Conversation, which had been desultory, and such as any miners or campers might have indulged in, gradually diminished to a word here and there, and finally ceased. Kells always at this hour had a dampening effect upon his followers. More and more he drew aloof from them, yet he never realized that. He might have been alone. But often he glanced out of the door, and appeared to listen. Of course he expected Jim Cleve to return, but what did he expect of him? Joan had a blind faith that Jim would be cunning enough to fool Kells and Pearce. So much depended upon it!

  Some of the bandits uttered an exclamation. Then silently, like a shadow, Jim Cleve entered.

  Joan’s heart leaped and seemed to stand still. Jim could not have locked more terrible if he were really a murderer. He opened his coat. Then he flung a black object upon the table and it fell with a soft, heavy, sodden thud. It was a leather belt packed with gold.

  When Kells saw that he looked no more at the pale Cleve. His clawlike hand swept out for the belt, lifted and weighed it. Likewise the other bandits, with gold in sight, surged round Kells, forgetting Cleve.

  “Twenty pounds!” exclaimed Kells, with a strange rapture in his voice.

  “Let me heft it?” asked Pearce, thrillingly.

  Joan saw and heard so much, then through a kind of dimness, that she could not wipe away, her eyes beheld Jim. What was the awful thing that she interpreted from his face, his mien? Was this a part he was playing to deceive Kells? The slow-gathering might of her horror came with the meaning of that gold-belt. Jim had brought back the gold-belt of the miner Creede. He had, in his passion to remain near her, to save her in the end, kept his word to Kells and done the ghastly deed.

  Joan reeled and sank back upon the bed, blindly, with darkening sight and mind.

  16

  Joan returned to consciousness with a sense of vague and unlocalized pain which she thought was that old, familiar pang of grief. But once fully awakened, as if by a sharp twinge, she became aware that the pain was some kind of muscular throb in her shoulder. The instant she was fully sure of this the strange feeling ceased. Then she lay wide-eyed in the darkness, waiting and wondering.

  Suddenly the slight sharp twing was repeated. It seemed to come from outside her flesh. She shivered a little, thinking it might be a centipede. When she reached for her shoulder her hand came in contact with a slender stick that had been thrust through a crack between the boards. Jim was trying to rouse her. This had been his method on several occasions when she had fallen asleep after waiting long for him.

  Joan got up to the window, dizzy and sick with the resurging memory of Jim’s return to Kells with that gold-belt.

  Jim rose out of the shadow and felt for her, clasped her close. Joan had none of the old thrill; her hands slid loosely round his; and every second the weight inwardly grew heavier.

  “Joan! I had a time waking you,” whispered Jim, and then he kissed her. “Why, you’re as cold as ice.”

 
“Jim—I—I must have fainted,” she replied.

  “What for?”

  “I was peeping into Kells’s cabin, when you—you—”

  “Poor kid!” he interrupted, tenderly. “You’ve had so much to bear!… Joan, I fooled Kells. Oh, I was slick!… He ordered me out on a job—to kill a miner! Fancy that! And what do you think? I know Creede well. He’s a good fellow. I traded my big nugget for his gold-belt!”

  “You traded—you—didn’t—kill him!” faltered Joan.

  “Hear the child talk!” exclaimed Cleve, with a low laugh.

  Joan suddenly clung to him with all her might, quivering in a silent joy. It had not occurred to Jim what she might have thought.

  “Listen,” he went on. “I traded my nugget. It was worth a great deal more than Creede’s gold-belt. He knew this. He didn’t want to trade. But I coaxed him. I persuaded him to leave camp—to walk out on the road to Bannack. To meet the stage somewhere and go on to Bannack, and stay a few days. He sure was curious. But I kept my secret.… Then I came back here, gave the belt to Kells, told him I had followed Creede in the dark, had killed him and slid him into a deep hole in the creek.… Kells and Pearce—none of them paid any attention to my story. I had the gold-belt. That was enough. Gold talks—fills the ears of these bandits.… I have my share of Creede’s gold-dust in my pocket. Isn’t that funny? Alas for my—your big nugget! But we’ve got to play the game. Besides, I’ve sacks and cans of gold hidden away. Joan, what’ll we do with it all? You’re my wife now. And, oh! If we can only get away with it you’ll be rich!”

  Joan could not share his happiness any more than she could understand his spirit. She remembered.

  “Jim—dear—did Kells tell you what your—next job was to be?” she whispered, haltingly.

  Cleve swore under his breath, but loud enough to make Joan swiftly put her hand over his lips and caution him.

  “Joan, did you hear that about Gulden?” he asked.

  “Oh yes.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to tell you. Yes, I’ve got my second job. And this one I can’t shirk or twist around.”

  Joan held to him convulsively. She could scarcely speak.

  “Girl, don’t lose your nerve!” he said, sternly. “When you married me you made me a man. I’ll play my end of the game. Don’t fear for me. You plan when we can risk escape. I’ll obey you to the word.”

  “But Jim—oh, Jim!” she moaned. “You’re as wild as these bandits. You can’t see your danger.… That terrible Gulden!… You don’t mean to meet him—fight him?… Say you won’t!”

  “Joan, I’ll meet him—and I’ll kill him,” whispered Jim, with a piercing intensity. “You never knew I was swift with a gun. Well, I didn’t, either, till I struck the border. I know now. Kells is the only man I’ve seen who can throw a gun quicker than I. Gulden is a big bull. He’s slow. I’ll get into a card-game with him—I’ll quarrel over gold—I’ll smash him as I did once before—and this time I won’t shoot off his ear. I’ve my nerve now. Kells swore he’d do anything for me if I stand by him now. I will. You never can tell. Kells is losing his grip. And my standing by him may save you.”

  Joan drew a deep breath. Jim Cleve had indeed come into manhood. She crushed down her womanish fears and rose dauntless to the occasion. She would never weaken him by a lack of confidence.

  “Jim, Kells’s plot draws on to a fatal close,” she said, earnestly. “I feel it. He’s doomed. He doesn’t realize that yet. He hopes and plots on. When he falls, then he’ll be great—terrible. We must get away before that comes. What you said about Creede has given me an idea. Suppose we plan to slip out some night soon, and stop the stage next day on its way to Bannack?”

  “I’ve thought of that. But we must have horses.”

  “Let’s go afoot. We’d be safer. There’d not be so much to plan.”

  “But if we go on foot we must pack guns and grub—and there’s my gold-dust. Fifty pounds or more! It’s yours, Joan.… You’ll need it all. You love pretty clothes and things. And now I’ll get them for you or—or die.”

  “Hush! That’s foolish talk, with our very lives at stake. Let me plan some more. Oh, I think so hard!… And, Jim, there’s another thing. Red Pearce was more than suspicious about your absence from the cabin at certain hours. What he hinted to Kells about a woman in the case! I’m afraid he suspects or knows.”

  “He had me cold, too,” replied Cleve, thoughtfully. “But he swore he knew nothing.”

  “Jim, trust a woman’s instinct. Pearce lied. That gun at his side made him a liar. He knew you’d kill him if he betrayed himself by a word. Oh, look out for him!”

  Cleve did not reply. It struck Joan that he was not listening, at least to her. His head was turned, rigid and alert. He had his ear to the soft wind. Suddenly Joan heard a faint rustle-then another. They appeared to come from the corner of the cabin. Silently Cleve sank down into the shadow and vanished. Low, stealthy footsteps followed, but Joan was not sure whether or not Cleve made them. They did not seem to come from the direction he usually took. Besides, when he was careful he never made the slightest noise. Joan strained her ears, only to catch the faint sounds of the night. She lay back upon her bed, worried and anxious again, and soon the dread returned. There were to be no waking or sleeping hours free from this portent of calamity.

  Next morning Joan awaited Kells, as was her custom, but he did not appear. This was the third time in a week that he had forgotten or avoided her or had been prevented from seeing her. Joan was glad, yet the fact was not reassuring. The issue for Kells was growing from trouble to disaster.

  Early in the afternoon she heard Kells returning from camp. He had men with him. They conversed in low, earnest tones. Joan was about to spy up on them when Kells’s step approached her door. He rapped and spoke:

  “Put on Dandy Dale’s suit and mask, and come out here,” he said.

  The tone of his voice as much as the content of his words startled Joan so that she did not at once reply.

  “Do you hear?” he called, sharply.

  “Yes,” replied Joan.

  Then he went back to his men, and the low, earnest conversation was renewed.

  Reluctantly Joan took down Dandy Dale’s things from the pegs, and with a recurring shame she divested herself of part of her clothes and donned the suit and boots and mask and gun. Her spirit rose, however, at the thought that this would be a disguise calculated to aid her in the escape with Cleve. But why had Kells ordered the change? Was he in danger and did he mean to flee from Alder Creek? Joan found the speculation a relief from that haunting, persistent thought of Jim Cleve and Gulden. She was eager to learn, still she hesitated at the door. It was just as hard as ever to face those men.

  But it must be, so with a wrench she stepped out boldly.

  Kells looked worn and gray. He had not slept. But his face did not wear the shade she had come to associate with his gambling and drinking. Six other men were present, and Joan noted coats and gloves and weapons and spurs. Kells turned to address her. His face lighted fleetingly.

  “I want you to be ready to ride any minute,” he said.

  “Why?” asked Joan.

  “We may have to, that’s all,” he replied.

  His men, usually so keen when they had a chance to ogle Joan, now scarcely gave her a glance. They were a dark, grim group, with hard eyes and tight lips. Handy Oliver was speaking.

  “I tell you, Gulden swore he seen Creede—on the road—in the lamplight—last night after Jim Cleve got here.”

  “Gulden must have been mistaken,” declared Kells, impatiently.

  “He ain’t the kind to make mistakes,” replied Oliver.

  “Gul’s seen Creede’s ghost, thet’s what,” suggested Blicky, uneasily. “I’ve seen a few in my time.”

  S
ome of the bandits nodded gloomily.

  “Aw!” burst out Red Pearce. “Gulden never seen a ghost in his life. If he seen Creede he’s seen him alive!”

  “Shore you’re right, Red,” agreed Jesse Smith.

  “But, men—Cleve brought in Creede’s belt—and we’ve divided the gold,” said Kells. “You all know Creede would have to be dead before that belt could be unbuckled from him. There’s a mistake.”

  “Boss, it’s my idee thet Gul is only makin’ more trouble,” put in Bate Wood. “I seen him less than an hour ago. I was the first one Gul talked to. An’ he knew Jim Cleve did for Creede. How’d he know? Thet was supposed to be a secret. What’s more, Gul told me Cleve was on the job to kill him. How’d he ever find thet out?… Sure as God made little apples Cleve never told him!”

  Kells’s face grew livid and his whole body vibrated. “Maybe one of Gulden’s gang was outside, listening when we planned Cleve’s job,” he suggested. But his look belied his hope.

  “Naw! There’s a negro in the wood-pile, you can gamble on thet,” blurted out the sixth bandit, a lean faced, bold-eye, blond-mustached fellow whose name Joan had never heard.

  “I won’t believe it,” replied Kells, doggedly. “And you, Budd, you’re accusing somebody present of treachery—or else Cleve. He’s the only one not here who knew.”

  “Wal, I always said thet youngster was slick,” replied Budd.

  “Will you accuse him to his face?”

  “I shore will. Glad of the chance.”