by Zane Grey
He had stepped back erect when she opened her eyes. They were sleepy, yet surprised until she saw him. Then she was wide awake in a second, bewildered, uncertain.
“Why—you here?” she asked, slowly.
“Large as life!” replied Dick, with unusual gayety.
“How long have you been here?”
“Just got here this fraction of a second,” he replied, lying shamelessly.
It was evident that she did not know whether or not to believe him, and as she studied him a slow blush dyed her cheek.
“You are absolutely truthful when you say you just stepped there?”
“Why, of course,” answered Dick, right glad he did not have to lie about that.
“I thought—I was—dreaming,” she said, and evidently the sound of her voice reassured her.
“Yes, you looked as if you were having pleasant dreams,” replied Dick. “So sorry to wake you. I can’t see how I came to do it, I was so quiet. Mercedes didn’t wake. Well, I’ll go and let you have your siesta and dreams.”
But he did not move to go. Nell regarded him with curious, speculative eyes.
“Isn’t it a lovely day?” queried Dick.
“I think it’s hot.”
“Only ninety in the shade. And you’ve told me the mercury goes to one hundred and thirty in midsummer. This is just a glorious golden day.”
“Yesterday was finer, but you didn’t notice it.”
“Oh, yesterday was somewhere back in the past—the inconsequential past.”
Nell’s sleepy blue eyes opened a little wider. She did not know what to make of this changed young man. Dick felt gleeful and tried hard to keep the fact from becoming manifest.
“What’s the inconsequential past? You seem remarkably happy today.”
“I certainly am happy. Adios. Pleasant dreams.”
Dick turned away then and left the patio by the opening into the yard. Nell was really sleepy, and when she had fallen asleep again he would return. He walked around for a while. Belding and the rangers were shoeing a broncho. Yaqui was in the field with the horses. Blanco Sol grazed contently, and now and then lifted his head to watch. His long ears went up at sight of his master, and he whistled. Presently Dick, as if magnet-drawn, retraced his steps to the patio and entered noiselessly.
Nell was now deep in her siesta. She was inert, relaxed, untroubled by dreams. Her hair was damp on her brow.
Again Nell stirred, and gradually awakened. Her eyes unclosed, humid, shadowy, unconscious. They rested upon Dick for a moment before they became clear and comprehensive. He stood back fully ten feet from her, and to all outside appearances regarded her calmly.
“I’ve interrupted your siesta again,” he said. “Please forgive me. I’ll take myself off.”
He wandered away, and when it became impossible for him to stay away any longer he returned to the patio.
The instant his glance rested upon Nell’s face he divined she was feigning sleep. The faint rose-blush had paled. The warm, rich, golden tint of her skin had fled. Dick dropped upon his knees and bent over her. Though his blood was churning in his veins, his breast laboring, his mind whirling with the wonder of that moment and its promise, he made himself deliberate. He wanted more than anything he had ever wanted in his life to see if she would keep up that pretense of sleep and let him kiss her. She must have felt his breath, for her hair waved off her brow. Her cheeks were now white. Her breast swelled and sank. He bent down closer—closer. But he must have been maddeningly slow, for as he bent still closer Nell’s eyes opened, and he caught a swift purple gaze of eyes as she whirled her head. Then, with a little cry, she rose and fled.
CHAPTER X
ROJAS
No word from George Thorne had come to Forlorn River in weeks. Gale grew concerned over the fact, and began to wonder if anything serious could have happened to him. Mercedes showed a slow, wearing strain.
Thorne’s commission expired the end of January, and if he could not get his discharge immediately, he surely could obtain leave of absence. Therefore, Gale waited, not without growing anxiety, and did his best to cheer Mercedes. The first of February came bringing news of rebel activities and bandit operations in and around Casita, but not a word from the cavalryman.
Mercedes became silent, mournful. Her eyes were great black windows of tragedy. Nell devoted herself entirely to the unfortunate girl; Dick exerted himself to persuade her that all would yet come well; in fact, the whole household could not have been kinder to a sister or a daughter. But their united efforts were unavailing. Mercedes seemed to accept with fatalistic hopelessness a last and crowning misfortune.
A dozen times Gale declared he would ride in to Casita and find out why they did not hear from Thorne; however, older and wiser heads prevailed over his impetuosity. Belding was not sanguine over the safety of the Casita trail. Refugees from there arrived every day in Forlorn River, and if tales they told were true, real war would have been preferable to what was going on along the border. Belding and the rangers and the Yaqui held a consultation. Not only had the Indian become a faithful servant to Gale, but he was also of value to Belding. Yaqui had all the craft of his class, and superior intelligence. His knowledge of Mexicans was second only to his hate of them. And Yaqui, who had been scouting on all the trails, gave information that made Belding decide to wait some days before sending any one to Casita. He required promises from his rangers, particularly Gale, not to leave without his consent.
It was upon Gale’s coming from this conference that he encountered Nell. Since the interrupted siesta episode she had been more than ordinarily elusive, and about all he had received from her was a tantalizing smile from a distance. He got the impression now, however, that she had awaited him. When he drew close to her he was certain of it, and he experienced more than surprise.
“Dick,” she began, hurriedly. “Dad’s not going to send any one to see about Thorne?”
“No, not yet. He thinks it best not to. We all think so. I’m sorry. Poor Mercedes!”
“I knew it. I tried to coax him to send Laddy or even Yaqui. He wouldn’t listen to me. Dick, Mercedes is dying by inches. Can’t you see what ails her? It’s more than love or fear. It’s uncertainty—suspense. Oh, can’t we find out for her?”
“Nell, I feel as badly as you about her. I wanted to ride in to Casita. Belding shut me up quick, the last time.”
Nell came close to Gale, clasped his arm. There was no color in her face. Her eyes held a dark, eager excitement.
“Dick, will you slip off without Dad’s consent? Risk it! Go to Casita and find out what’s happened to Thorne—at least if he ever started for Forlorn River?”
“No, Nell, I won’t do that.”
She drew away from him with passionate suddenness.
“Are you afraid?”
This certainly was not the Nell Burton that Gale knew.
“No, I’m not afraid,” Gale replied, a little nettled.
“Will you go—for my sake?” Like lightning her mood changed and she was close to him again, hands on his, her face white, her whole presence sweetly alluring.
“Nell, I won’t disobey Belding,” protested Gale. “I won’t break my word.”
“Dick, it’ll not be so bad as that. But—what if it is?… Go, Dick, if not for poor Mercedes’s sake, then for mine—to please me. I’ll—I’ll… you won’t lose anything by going. I think I know how Mercedes feels. Just a word from Thorne or about him would save her. Take Blanco Sol and go, Dick. What rebel outfit could ever ride you down on that horse? Why, Dick, if I was up on Sol I wouldn’t be afraid of the whole rebel army.”
“My dear girl, it’s not a question of being afraid. It’s my word—my duty to Belding.”
“You said you loved me. If you love me you will go… You don’t love me!”
Gale could only stare at this transformed girl.
“Dick, listen!… If you go—if you fetch some word of Thorne to comfort Mercedes, you—well, you will have
your reward.”
“Nell!”
Her dangerous sweetness was as amazing as this newly revealed character.
“Dick, will you go?”
“No-no!” cried Gale, in violence, struggling with himself. “Nell Burton, I’ll tell you this. To have the reward I want would mean pretty near heaven for me. But not even for that will I break my word to your father.”
She seemed the incarnation of girlish scorn and wilful passion.
“Gracias, señor,” she replied, mockingly. “Adios.” Then she flashed out of his sight.
Gale went to his room at once, disturbed and thrilling, and did not soon recover from that encounter.
The following morning at the breakfast table Nell was not present. Mrs. Belding evidently considered the fact somewhat unusual, for she called out into the patio and then into the yard. Then she went to Mercedes’s room. But Nell was not there, either.
“She’s in one of her tantrums lately,” said Belding. “Wouldn’t speak to me this morning. Let her alone, mother. She’s spoiled enough, without running after her. She’s always hungry. She’ll be on hand presently, don’t mistake me.”
Notwithstanding Belding’s conviction, which Gale shared, Nell did not appear at all during the hour. When Belding and the rangers went outside, Yaqui was eating his meal on the bench where he always sat.
“Yaqui—Lluvia d’ oro, si?” asked Belding, waving his hand toward the corrals. The Indian’s beautiful name for Nell meant “shower of gold,” and Belding used it in asking Yaqui if he had seen her. He received a negative reply.
Perhaps half an hour afterward, as Gale was leaving his room, he saw the Yaqui running up the path from the fields. It was markedly out of the ordinary to see the Indian run. Gale wondered what was the matter. Yaqui ran straight to Belding, who was at work at his bench under the wagon shed. In less than a moment Belding was bellowing for his rangers. Gale got to him first, but Ladd and Lash were not far behind.
“Blanco Sol gone!” yelled Belding, in a rage.
“Gone? In broad daylight, with the Indian a-watch-in?” queried Ladd.
“It happened while Yaqui was at breakfast. That’s sure. He’d just watered Sol.”
“Raiders!” exclaimed Jim Lash.
“Lord only knows. Yaqui says it wasn’t raiders.”
“Mebbe Sol’s just walked off somewheres.”
“He was haltered in the corral.”
“Send Yaqui to find the hoss’s trail, an’ let’s figger,” said Ladd. “Shore this’s no raider job.”
In the swift search that ensued Gale did not have anything to say; but his mind was forming a conclusion. When he found his old saddle and bridle missing from the peg in the barn his conclusion became a positive conviction, and it made him, for the moment, cold and sick and speechless.
“Hey, Dick, don’t take it so much to heart,” said Belding. “We’ll likely find Sol, and if we don’t, there’s other good horses.”
“I’m not thinking of Sol,” replied Gale.
Ladd cast a sharp glance at Gale, snapped his fingers, and said:
“Damn me if I ain’t guessed it, too!”
“What’s wrong with you locoed gents?” bluntly demanded Belding.
“Nell has slipped away on Sol,” answered Dick.
There was a blank pause, which presently Belding broke.
“Well, that’s all right, if Nell’s on him. I was afraid we’d lost the horse.”
“Belding, you’re trackin’ bad,” said Ladd, wagging his head.
“Nell has started for Casita,” burst out Gale. “She has gone to fetch Mercedes some word about Thorne. Oh, Belding, you needn’t shake your head. I know she’s gone. She tried to persuade me to go, and was furious when I wouldn’t.”
“I don’t believe it,” replied Belding, hoarsely. “Nell may have her temper. She’s a little devil at times, but she always had good sense.”
“Tom, you can gamble she’s gone,” said Ladd.
“Aw, hell, no! Jim, what do you think?” implored Belding.
“I reckon Sol’s white head is pointed level an’ straight down the Casita trail. An’ Nell can ride. We’re losing’ time.”
That roused Belding to action.
“I say you’re all wrong,” he yelled, starting for the corrals. “She’s only taking a little ride, same as she’s done often. But rustle now. Find out. Dick, you ride cross the valley. Jim, you hunt up and down the river. I’ll head up San Felipe way. And you, Laddy, take Diablo and hit the Casita trail. If she really has gone after Thorne you can catch her in an hour or so.”
“Shore I’ll go,” replied Ladd. “But, Beldin’, if you’re not plumb crazy you’re close to it. That big white devil can’t catch Sol. Not in an hour or a day or a week! What’s more, at the end of any runnin’ time, with an even start, Sol will be farther in the lead. An’ now Sol’s got an hour’s start.”
“Laddy, you mean to say Sol is a faster horse than Diablo?” thundered Belding, his face purple.
“Shore. I mean to tell you just that there,” replied the ranger.
“I’ll—I’ll bet a—”
“We’re wastin’ time,” curtly interrupted Ladd. “You can gamble on this if you want to. I’ll ride your Blanco Devil as he never was rid before, ’cept once when a damn sight better hossman than I am couldn’t make him outrun Sol.”
Without more words the men saddled and were off, not waiting for the Yaqui to come in with possible information as to what trail Blanco Sol had taken. It certainly did not show in the clear sand of the level valley where Gale rode to and fro. When Gale returned to the house he found Belding and Lash awaiting him. They did not mention their own search, but stated that Yaqui had found Blanco Sol’s tracks in the Casita trail. After some consultation Belding decided to send Lash along after Ladd.
The interminable time that followed contained for Gale about as much suspense as he could well bear. What astonished him and helped him greatly to fight off actual distress was the endurance of Nell’s mother.
Early on the morning of the second day, Gale, who had acquired an unbreakable habit of watching, saw three white horses and a bay come wearily stepping down the road. He heard Blanco Sol’s familiar whistle, and he leaped up wild with joy. The horse was riderless. Gale’s sudden joy received a violent check, then resurged when he saw a limp white form in Jim Lash’s arms. Ladd was supporting a horseman who wore a military uniform.
Gale shouted with joy and ran into the house to tell the good news. It was the ever-thoughtful Mrs. Belding who prevented him from rushing in to tell Mercedes. Then he hurried out into the yard, closely followed by the Beldings.
Lash handed down a ragged, travel-stained, wan girl into Belding’s arms.
“Dad! Mama!”
It was indeed a repentant Nell, but there was spirit yet in the tired blue eyes. Then she caught sight of Gale and gave him a faint smile.
“Hello—Dick.”
“Nell!” Gale reached for her hand, held it tightly, and found speech difficult.
“You needn’t worry—about your old horse,” she said, as Belding carried her toward the door. “Oh, Dick! Blanco Sol is—glorious!”
Gale turned to greet his friend. Indeed, it was but a haggard ghost of the cavalryman. Thorne looked ill or wounded. Gale’s greeting was also a question full of fear.
Thorne’s answer was a faint smile. He seemed ready to drop from the saddle. Gale helped Ladd hold Thorne upon the horse until they reached the house. Belding came out again. His welcome was checked as he saw the condition of the cavalryman. Thorne reeled into Dick’s arms. But he was able to stand and walk.
“I’m not—hurt. Only weak—starved,” he said. “Is Mercedes— Take me to her.”
“She’ll be well the minute she sees him,” averred Belding, as he and Gale led the cavalryman to Mercedes’s room. There they left him; and Gale, at least, felt his ears ringing with the girl’s broken cry of joy.
When Belding and Gale hurried fo
rth again the rangers were tending the tired horses. Upon returning to the house Jim Lash calmly lit his pipe, and Ladd declared that, hungry as he was, he had to tell his story.
“Shore, Beldin’,” began Ladd, “that was funny about Diablo catchin’ Blanco Sol. Funny ain’t the word. I nearly laughed myself to death. Well, I rode in Sol’s tracks all the way to Casita. Never seen a rebel or a raider till I got to town. Figgered Nell made the trip in five hours. I went straight to the camp of the cavalrymen, an’ found them just coolin’ off an’ dressin’ down their hosses after what looked to me like a big ride. I got there too late for the fireworks.
“Some soldier took me to an officer’s tent. Nell was there, some white an’ all in. She just said, ‘Laddy!’ Thorne was there, too, an’ he was bein’ worked over by the camp doctor. I didn’t ask no questions, because I seen quiet was needed round that tent. After satisfying myself that Nell was all right, an’ Thorne in no danger, I went out.
“Shore there was so darn many fellers who wanted to an’ tried to tell me what’d come off, I thought I’d never find out. But I got the story piece by piece. An’ here’s what happened.
“Nell rode Blanco Sol a-tearin’ into camp, an’ had a crowd round her in a jiffy. She told who she was, where she’d come from, an’ what she wanted. Well, it seemed a day or so before Nell got there the cavalrymen had heard word of Thorne. You see, Thorne had left camp on leave of absence some time before. He was shore mysterious, they said, an’ told nobody where he was goin’. A week or so after he left camp some Greaser give it away that Rojas had a prisoner in a dobe shack near his camp. Nobody paid much attention to what the Greaser said. He wanted money for mescal. An’ it was usual for Rojas to have prisoners. But in a few more days it turned out pretty sure that for some reason Rojas was holdin’ Thorne.
“Now it happened when this news came Colonel Weede was in Nogales with his staff, an’ the officer left in charge didn’t know how to proceed. Rojas’s camp was across the line in Mexico, an’ ridin’ over there was serious business. It meant a whole lot more than just scatterin’ one Greaser camp. It was what had been botherin’ more’n one colonel along the line. Thorne’s feller soldiers was anxious to get him out of a bad fix, but they had to wait for orders.
