The Western Romance MEGAPACK ®: 20 Classic Tales

by Zane Grey

  “Oh, Bill!” he called, getting stiffly to his feet. “Let’s get into the cabin and go over those tally books.” Which was merely a subterfuge to get Bill away from the wagon without letting the boys know something was wrong. Bill got up, brushed the dirt off his trousers with a flick of his fingers, lighted the cigarette he had just rolled and followed the boss.

  “Bill, what’s your idea about this horse-stealing, anyway? If they were going to steal horses, why didn’t they run off a whole herd and be done with it?”

  Bill seated himself on Johnny’s bunk, spat toward the stove, pulled a splinter off the rough board of the bunk’s side, and began carefully nipping off tiny shreds with his finger nails. Bill, by all these signs and tokens, was limbering up his keen old range-bred wits for action.

  “Well, I’ll tell yuh. The way to get at the thing is to figger out why you’d do it, s’posin’ you was in their place. Now if it was me that was stealin’ these hawses—say, s’posin’ I was aimin’ to sell ’em over across the line—I’d aim to take the best I could git holt of, because I’d be wanting ’em for good, all-round, tough saddle hawses. Them greasers, the way they’re hellin’ around over the country shootin’ and fightin’, they got to have good hawses under ’em. Er they want good hawses, if they can git ’em.

  “Well, s’posin’ ’t I was out to furnish what I could. Chances is I wouldn’t have a very big bunch in with me—say five or six of us, jest enough to handle a few head at a time. I’d aim to git ’em over acrost the line first shot. Anybody would do that. Well, s’posin’ I didn’t have a place that’d take care of very many at a time. Feed’s pore, over there, and a hawse has got to eat. These here hawses are in purty fair condition, and I’d aim to keep ’em in flesh whilst I was breakin’ ’em—I’d git better prices. And then again, mebby I wouldn’t want too many on hand at once, in case some party come along with the gall to loot ’em instead of buy ’em.

  “I figger I’d be plumb content if I could take over a few at a time, and let the rest go ahead eatin’ grass here till I was ready for ’em. The longer I could keep that up, the better I’d like it. Same as we been doin’ at the home ranch, y’ see. We didn’t go t’ work and haze in the hull bunch and keep ’em up, eatin’ their heads off, waitin’ till we got ready for ’em. No, sir, we go out and bring in half a dozen, or a dozen at most and cut out what we want. We bust them, and git more.

  “I figger, Mr. Selmer, that these geezers down here have been doin’ that very same way. They had the kid baited with that flyin’ machine, so he wouldn’t have no eyes for anything else. And he was here, so you wouldn’t be worryin’ none about the stock. And they’ve been helpin’ theirselves at their own convenience—like Mary V would put it. I dunno, but that’s the way I figger it. And I don’t guess, Mr. Selmer, you’ll see none of yore hawses again, unless mebby it’s the last ones they took. And I don’t guess there’s very much chance of gittin’ them back, either, because we don’t know whereabouts they took ’em to. Way I look at it, you’re doin’ about the only thing that can be did—cleanin’ out this range and drivin’ the hawses all up on the north range. That kinda leaves the jam pot empty when they come lickin’ their lips for more of the same.”

  “Well, I guess you’re right, Bill. And how do you figure young Jewel not being here? His saddle is out there in the shed, and all his horses are here.”

  “Him?” Bill laughed a little. “Me, I don’t aim to do no figgerin’ about Skyrider. He’s got his flyin’ machine workin’, though, accordin’ to Mary V. I guess Skyrider has mebby flew the country. He’d likely think it was about time—way he gummed things up around here.”

  Sudden permitted himself a snort, probably in agreement with Bill’s statement that things were “gummed up” at Sinkhole. He went to the door and stood looking out, his face sour as one may expect a face to be when thoughts of loss are behind it.

  “Where’s Mary V?” he turned abruptly to ask of Bill.

  “Mary V? Why, I guess she went home. Said something about takin’ a picture of some darn thing; she never come on with the boys to camp, anyhow.”

  “She didn’t go foolin’ off with Tex, did she?”

  “Tex? No, Tex rode after stock. Had some trouble with his hawse. I heard him tellin’ the boys. Said his hawse run away with him. Come in all lathered up.”

  Sudden turned back, went to the telephone, changed his mind. No use worrying her mother by asking if she had got home, he thought.

  “You’re sure she went home?” his eyes dwelt rather sharply upon Bill’s lean, leathery face. Bill looked up from the slow disintegration of the splinter. He spat toward the stove again, looked down at the splinter, and then got up quite unexpectedly.

  “Hell, no! I ain’t shore, but I can quick enough find out.” He brushed past Sudden and took long steps toward the camp. Sudden followed him.

  The boys were standing in a group, holding their hat brims down to shield their eyes from the bitter glare of the sun while they gazed up into the sky, their faces turned towards the south. A speck was scudding across the blue—a speck that rapidly grew larger, circled downward in a great, easy spiral. Sudden and Bill perforce turned and held their own hat brims while they looked.

  “Sa-ay, if that there’s Skyrider sailin’ around in an airship, he’s shore got the laugh on us fellers,” Aleck observed, squinting his nose until his gums showed red above his teeth. “Look at ’im come down, would yuh!”

  “Wonder where he got it?” little Curley hazarded. “I always told you fellers—”

  “Does anybody know where Mary V went?” Sudden’s voice brought them all facing him. They looked at him uncomprehendingly for a minute, then uncertainly at one another.

  “Why—she was going to take a picture of a cactus. I dunno where she went after that.” This was Bud, a shade of uneasiness creeping into his face.

  “Which way did she go? Toward home?”

  “She started that way—back toward Snake Ridge—”

  “I seen her riding east,” Curley broke in. “Jake shore was pickin’ ’em up and layin’ ’em down too. I thought at first he was running off with her, but he wasn’t. He slowed down, climbin’ that lava slope—and after that I didn’t see no more of ’er.”

  Sudden looked at his watch, frowning a little. Mary V probably was all right; there was nothing unusual in her absence. But this country south of Snake Ridge was closer to the lawless land across the boundary than he liked. Their very errand down there gave proof enough of its character. North of Snake Ridge, Sudden would merely have stored away a lecture for Mary V. Down here at Sinkhole—

  “You boys get out and hunt her up!” he snapped, almost as though they were to blame for her absence. “I didn’t tell you before, but I’m telling you now that rustlers have been at work down here, and that’s why we’re taking the horses off this range. This is no place for Mary V to be riding around by herself.”

  “It’s a wonder he wouldn’t of woke up to that fact before,” Bud grumbled to Aleck, while he went limping to the corral. “If she was a girl uh mine, she’d be home with her maw, where she belongs!”

  “Rustlers—that sounds like greasers had been at work here. Runnin’ hawses acrost the line. For Lord sake, git a faster wiggle on than that limp, Bud! If that poor little kid meets up with a bunch of them damn renegades—”

  Bud swore and increased his pace in spite of the pain. Others were before him. Already Tex had his loop over the head of a speedy horse, and was leading it toward his saddle. Curley, the quickest of them all, was giving frantic tugs to his latigo. Bill was in the saddle ready to direct the search, and Sudden was standing by his car, wondering whether it would be possible to negotiate that rough country to the eastward with a “mechanical bronk.”

  Nothing much was said. You would have thought, to look at them, that they were merely in a hurry to g
et back to the work. Nevertheless, if it should happen that Mary V was being annoyed or in any danger, it would go hard with the miscreants if the Rolling R boys once came within sight of them.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  LUCK TURNS TRAITOR

  Johnny Jewel, carrying the propeller balanced on his shoulder and his rifle in the other hand—and perspiring freely with the task—came hurrying through the sage brush, following the faint trail his own eager feet had worn in the sand. His eyes were turned frowning upon the ground, his lips were set together in the line of stubbornness.

  He tilted the propeller against the adobe wall of the cabin, and went in without noticing that the door was open instead of closed as he had left it. He was at the telephone when Sudden stepped in after him. Johnny looked over his shoulder with wide, startled eyes.

  “Oh. I was just going to call up the ranch,” he said with the brusqueness of a man whose mind is concentrated on one thing.

  “What you want of the ranch?” Sudden’s tone was noncommittal. Here was the fellow that had caused all this trouble and worry and loss. Sudden meant to deal with him as he deserved, but that did not mean he would fly into a passion and handicap his judgment.

  “I want the boys, if you can get hold of them. I’ve located the ranch where they’ve been taking those horses to that they stole. There’s some there now—or there was. I went down and let down the fence of the little field they had ’em in, and headed ’em for the gap. There wasn’t anybody around but two women—an old one and a young one—and some kids. They spluttered a lot, but I went ahead anyway. There’s about a dozen Rolling R horses I turned loose. The brands were blotched, but I knew ’em anyway.

  “So I got ’em outa the field, and then we went back to the plane and circled around and come up on ’em from the south, and flew low enough to scare ’em good, but not enough to scatter ’em like that bunch up at the ranch scattered. They high-tailed it this way, and I guess they’ll keep coming, all right, if they aren’t turned back again. The boys can pick ’em up.

  “If the boys could come down I think they could get a whack at the rustlers themselves. I got a sight of ’em, with a little bunch of horses, as I was coming back. Far as I could see, they didn’t notice the plane—we were high, and soon as I saw ’em I had Bland shut off the motor and glide. They must have camped just across the line till they got a bunch together, or something. They were taking their time, and if the boys could get down here right away, I believe we could get ’em. If not, I’ll go back and stampede the horses this way, and see if I can’t get me a greaser or two. We had to come back and fill up the tank again, anyway. I didn’t want to get caught the way those other fellows did. Is Bill at the ranch, Mr. Selmer?”

  It speaks well for Sudden Selmer that he could listen to this amazing statement without looking dazed. As it was, his first bewildered stare subsided into mere astonishment. Later other emotions crept in. By the time Johnny had finished his headlong report, Sudden had recovered his mental poise and was able to speak coherently.

  “Been hunting horses with a flying machine, eh? I must say you’re right up to date, young man. No, Bill isn’t at the ranch. If you’d keep your eyes open here at home, same as you do when you’re flying around next the clouds, you’d see the chuck wagon down there by the creek. I moved ’em down here to save what horses are left. The boys are out now hunting up Mary V. She had to go larruping off by herself on Bill’s horse Jake, and she hasn’t come back yet. I guess she’s all right; but the boys went after her so as not to take any chances. I’m kinda hoping the kid went home. I don’t like to scare her mother, though, by calling up to see.”

  Johnny’s eyes had widened and grown round, just as they always did when something stirred him unexpectedly. “I could call up, Mr. Selmer, and ask if I can speak to Mary V. That wouldn’t scare her mother.”

  “Sure, you can find out; only don’t you say anything about the wagons being camped here. If she asks, say you haven’t seen us yet. She’ll think we made camp somewhere else. Go ahead.”

  It did not take long, and when Johnny turned to Selmer he had the white line around his mouth. “She says Mary V went out with you and the boys, to a round-up somewhere down this way.”

  “Well, maybe she just rode farther than she intended. But she was on Jake; she deviled us into letting her take him. Bill thinks Jake isn’t very safe. I don’t think he is, either. You say the rustlers were away down across the line, driving a bunch of horses, so there’s no danger—”

  “I didn’t say all of them were down that way. I don’t know how many there are. They were just little dots crawling along—but I guessed there were about four riders.” Johnny started for the door, picking up his rifle from the table where he had placed it. “I wish I’d got after ’em as I wanted to, but Bland kept hollering about gas—” He balanced the propeller on his shoulder again, and turned to Sudden.

  “Don’t you worry, Mr. Selmer, we’ll get right out after her. Which way did she go? There’s times when an airplane comes in kinda handy, after all!”

  “You young hound, there wouldn’t be all this hell a-poppin’ if it wasn’t for you and your bederned airplane! Don’t overlook that fact. You’ve managed to hold up all my plans, and lose me Lord-knows-how-many horses that are probably the pick of the herds; and you’ve got the gall to crow because your flying machine will fly! And if that girl of mine’s in any trouble, it’ll be your fault more than anybody’s. If you’d stuck to your job and done what I’ve been paying you wages to do—”

  “You don’t have to rub all that in, Mr. Selmer. I guess I know it better than you do. Just because I don’t come crying around you with a lot of please-forgive-me stuff, you think I don’t give a cuss! Which way did Mary V go? That’s more important right now than naming over all the kinds of damn fools I’ve been. I can sing that song backwards. Which way—”

  “She went east. Damn yuh, don’t yuh stand there talking back to me, or I’ll—”

  “Oh, go to—war,” said Johnny sullenly, and hitched the propeller to a better balance on his shoulder, and went striding back whence he had come.

  He had not meant to crow. He knew perfectly well what harm he had wrought. He was doing what he could to undo that harm, and he was at that high pitch of self-torment when the lash of another was unbearable. He did not want to quarrel with the boss, but no human being could have reproached Johnny then without receiving some of the bitterness which filled Johnny’s soul.

  He routed Bland out of nap and commanded him to make ready for another flight. Bland protested, with his usual whine against extra work, and got a look from Johnny that sent him hurrying around the plane to make his regular before-flying inspection.

  Fifteen minutes after Johnny’s arrival the plane was quivering outside on the flying field, and Bland was pulling down his goggles while Johnny kicked a small rock away from a wheel and climbed up to straddle into the rear seat, carrying his rifle with him—to the manifest discomfort of Bland, who was “gun-shy.”

  “Fly a kinda zigzag course east till I tell yuh to swing south,” Johnny called, close to Bland’s ear. “Miss Selmer’s off that way somewhere. If you see her, don’t fly low enough to scare her horse—keep away a little and hunt a landing. I’ll tell yuh when to land, same as before.”

  He settled back, and Bland nodded, glanced right and left, eased the motor on and started. They took the air and climbed steadily, circling until they had the altitude Johnny wanted. Then, swinging away toward Snake Ridge, they worked eastward. Johnny did not use the controls at all. He wanted all his mind for scanning the country spread out below them.

  Ridges, arroyos, brushy flats—Johnny’s eyes went over them all. Almost before they had completed the first circle he spied a rider, then two—and over to the right a couple more, scattered out and riding eastward. Johnny wished that he could have speech with the boys, c
ould tell them what he meant to do. But he knew too well how the horses would feel about the plane, so he kept on, skimming high over their heads like a great, humming dragon fly. He saw them crane necks to watch him, saw the horses plunge and try to bolt. Then they were far behind, and his eyes were searching anxiously the landscape below.

  Mary V, it occurred to him suddenly, might be lying hurt. Jake might have thrown her—though on second thought that was not likely, for Mary V was too good a rider to be thrown unless a horse pitched rather viciously. Jake would run away, would rear and plunge and sidle when fear gripped him or his temper was up, but Johnny had never heard of his pitching. Jake was not a range-bred horse, and if there was a buck-jump in his system, it had never betrayed itself. After all, Mary V’s chance of lying hurt was minimized by the very fact that she rode Jake.

  Red hill came sliding rapidly toward them. Now it was beneath, and the plane had risen sharply to the air current that flowed steadily over the hill. It swooped down again—they were over the flat where he had seen the riders. The line of fence showed like knotted thread drawn across the land. And within it was no Mary V.

  Johnny tapped Bland’s shoulder for a circle to the north, hoping that she might be riding back that way. He strained his eyes, and saw tiny dots of horses feeding quietly, but no rider moving anywhere. He sent Bland swinging southward, while he leaned a little and watched the swift-sliding panorama of arid land beneath. It was a rough country, as Tex had said. To look for one little moving speck in all that veined network of little ridges and draws was enough to tax quicker, keener eyes than Johnny Jewel’s.