Barry went out quietly. He had intended forcing a confession from the man, or, at the very least, of bargaining with him for the return of the ranches now that they would be of no value to Moley; but somehow he could not force himself to it. The wolf, old and tired and broken, no longer inspired fear or hatred; just pity.
He was standing on the sidewalk outside the office when there came to him the sound of another shot. Apprehensive, he leaped through the doorway and into the office. Moley lay sprawled across the desk, the Derringer clutched in his left hand. Before him were spread six deeds conveying back to their original owners the six Basin ranches. There were no witnesses to his signature, but in his right hand he still gripped the pen with which he had signed them, and the ink was not yet dry.
CHAPTER XX
THE LAST VERSE
ONCE more Barry Weston rode to the Cinchbuckle. He rode swiftly, with a smile of anticipation on his face. Jefferson Hope and Harry Webb were still in Mescal, and to them and the delighted Matt Billings he had delivered the deeds which once more made the Basin ranches theirs. That of George Brent he had mailed to Sheridan, Wyoming.
His first visit had been to the Flying W. There, with his bright-eyed mother, his repentant step-father, and Lola and Nip as an audience, he related the dramatic story which closed the struggle for the Basin. His mother cried a little, then, unassisted, got up from her chair and declared that she was completely well.
Lola and Nip walked with him to the door.
“An’ now,” said Lola bravely, “you weel go to Barbara an’ tell her the good news, no? An’ she weel be ver’ ’appy, an’ eef you do not tak her in your arms an’ tell her you lof her, you are one great beeg fool. Ees not so, Neep?”
“That’s whatever!” seconded Nip. He would have said the same thing had she declared it was the moon and not the sun which was shining.
They watched him ride away, erect in his saddle, confident, smiling; then Lola turned, her eyes misty. “Oh, Neep!” she cried, and his arms closed about her.
“Here’s right where you stay,” said Nip firmly. “It’s where you belong, honey. Ah, Lola, I love you so much! I won’t go far on looks, but I can work, and I sure will work like a son-of-a-gun for you. Lola, I want you to marry me.”
She looked up in amazement, starry-eyed. “You would marry—me?”
“Nobody else in the whole clanged world,” declared Nip soberly. “Lola, I want you so much! That first night at the Palace I loved you.”
For a short space she looked up into his face and read there only humble devotion, honest love, and a very great tenderness.
Her eyes melted, the soft lips curved. “Ah, Neep! Eef you can be content weeth w’at ees lef’ of me, I would be so ’appy to marry you!”
And Nip, with a great cry, drew her close.
Barry dismounted outside the Cinchbuckle ranch house and leaped up the steps. Without knocking he ran into the living room. The place has been dismantled and Barbara was perched on a trunk which Clay strove to latch. They glanced up at his entrance.
“Hello, Barry,” said Clay. “You look happy.”
“I’m good news personified. Run your eye over that!”
They looked at the paper he handed them. “Why, it’s a deed to the Cinchbuckle!” cried Barbara. “Barry, how did you do it?”
He sat on the trunk beside her and told them the whole story.
“So he killed his own son,” said Barbara sadly. “How pitiful.”
“And yet it’s a fittin’ conclusion to the whole sorry mess,” said Clay. “I pity the man, but when we think of the hearts he broke and the lives he had snuffed out it seems the only proper end for the old lobo.... Say, I’m goin’ to hunt up Clement. Tuck came after him this mornin’ and dragged him out to that south line cabin. I just got to tell him the news.”
He left Barbara and Barry seated on the trunk. The girl’s eyes were averted. “And now that you’ve won the Flying W back,” she said softly, “I suppose you will be urging Lola to share it with you.”
“Lola?” He was surprised.
“Yes. I didn’t intend to spy, Barry, but that day I came back for my quirt I saw you on your knees beside her. You were holding her hand and the expression on your face was—was—well—” She faltered to a stop.
Barry reached out and took one of her hands in his. “The expression on my face was one of eternal gratitude, Barbara; for Lola had just told me that you cared for me.” The girl beside him started and tried to withdraw her hand, but he held it firmly.
“And her last words when I left the Flyin’ W a short while ago were to the effect that if I didn’t take you in my arms and tell you I love you, I would be a very great fool.”
“Barry!” He could see the color rise in her cheek.
“And so, not wishin’ to be a very great fool, I must tell you, dear, that I’ve loved you from the time we were kids. All the five lonely years I spent in Montana I kept yearnin’ for you. I reckon I’ve always loved you. But when I came back and saw you—saw how beautiful and sweet and desirable you’d grown—well, I was just tongue-tied. Somehow I didn’t feel worthy.”
She turned to him then, eyes very bright, the roses in her cheeks.
“Not worthy! Oh, Barry, after all you’ve done how can you say that! It is I who am unworthy! Oh, if you had only known the hours I thought of you while you were gone! It was your fighting for me that sent you away; and when you returned, you fought for me again.”
It was then that he remembered the rest of Lola’s advice. He put his arms about her, and there, on the trunk, they whispered to each other the old, old story that to lovers is forever new.
Here on the trunk Clement and Clay and Tuck found them. They rode their horses to the gallery and came trooping into the room. Clay’s eyes were bright and he was grinning from ear to ear.
“Barry! Barbara! Oh, what news! Tell ’em, Tuck, before I bust.”
Tuck grinned. “Well, the fact is, Barry, that Nip and me done pulled a little trick on you. You know that oil barrel Steve Maley uncovered? Well, Tom Slater didn’t bury it there at all.”
“Slater didn’t—! Tuck, what are you talkin’ about?”
“No, he didn’t. That day you started out to look for Chet Lewis, me and Nip sat there tryin’ to figger out some way that Slater could have cheated old man Moley. We finally decided that he might ’a’ buried a barrel of oil and let it seep into the pond, so we went lookin’ around. But there wasn’t any barrel; that there seepage sure seemed natural enough. We was mighty disappointed at first, but we got to thinkin’ that just because Slater hadn’t buried a barrel filled with oil was no reason for us not buryin’ one.”
“Tuck!”
“Uh-huh. So we got the wagon and drove to Nogales and bought one filled with oil and also some hose to go with it. Then we planted the clanged thing and let Maley dig it up. And son, our bluff worked! He was so crooked hisself that he was more than willin’ to believe Slater had rooked him.”
“Tuck, you clanged old sidewinder! Then there is oil in the Basin?”
“Barry, it sure looks like it. Me and Clement have been pokin’ around, and all the indications are there. I shouldn’t be su-prised to see every rancher in the Basin turn out to be a millionaire.”
The news was so astounding that for the time there was silence; then to their ears came the sound of a voice raised in song. Tuck went to the door and looked out.
“It’s Nip and Lola, and—yeah! your mother and step-father in a buckboard. Listen! Nip done writ another verse to that song of ours.”
Faintly the words reached them:
As the significance of the words reached Tuck, his face became a study in surprise and dismay. “He’s gone and done it! Busted a partnership of ten years standin’! Yes, sir, that’s the last verse to the song. Oh, my gosh!” Suddenly he turned and hurried through the doorway.
“Where you goin’?” called Barry after him.
Tuck answered over his shoulder. “I ain’t
lettin’ that rannyhan git ahead of me. I’m goin’ to ask Lola if she has a sister.”
Wolves of the Chaparral Page 19
