by Grey, Zane
Under cover of the oak thicket that lined the slope from the wall he rested a few moments, listening like a pursued deer. Only the distant murmur of a stream, a dreamy hum, and the moan of wind up on the timbered ruins came to his ears.
"Reckon I'll slip down to the trail an' hold Cedar up," soliloquized Jim. "But I'd shore like to know what he's aboot."
The east side of the canyon was a gentle slope, covered with white grass, brown ferns, and low pines and oaks, affording perfect cover for anyone hiding. Lacy worked gradually down toward the level of the canyon. He did not snap twigs, or scrape brush, or make any sound. At each little opening he peered out before advancing.
Often he stopped to listen. Once an elk bugled--wonderful piercing note of the wild.
It was through this extreme caution and the eye of a woodsman that Lacy came upon Marvie Blaine and Rose Hatt.
They were locked in each other's arms, lost in the enchantment of their dream. But they had chosen a secluded nook, halfway up the grassy pine-dotted slope, from which they could see, by peering under the low-spreading branches, both up and down the trail. At this moment, however, they would not have become aware of the approach of an army.
Lacy seemed struck to the heart by their rapture and the poignant pang that rent his own breast. He understood. He had lived that.
He knew the sweetness and glory of love. Lacy sank to his knees, feeling that he had no right to interrupt their sacred hour.
Marvie bent over Rose, whose head lay back upon his breast, with her face upturned to his, eyes closed, heavy-lidded, rapt and dreamy. If they were whispering Lacy would not hear, though he was close. But he doubted that they were whispering. Both bliss and tragedy seemed to hover over these youthful lovers.
Suddenly Lacy heard a sound that cruelly disrupted both the pain and the joy he felt. In a flash he found his equilibrium. What was that sound? It had been faint, and therefore hard to locate.
It could have come from either near or far. He listened, while his eyes roved everywhere. Marvie was deaf to sounds. No doubt there was a beautiful bell ringing in his soul. Rose lay entranced.
Again Jim heard a sound, which he calculated to be a swish from the tail of a horse. Of course Marvie and Rose had their horses tethered somewhere near. But the first noise had not been like the second. It was not a thud of hoof, nor a step of foot. It seemed to have been a slippery gliding sound, as of a soft substance in contact with one rough and hard. All at once an idea flashed to Jim--buckskin over rock! Cedar Hatt always wore buckskin. Close at hand there were corners of cliff, ledges, huge slabs of rock.
The instant that thought stood clear in Lacy's mind he grew stiff, intense in the grasp of a sensation for which he never found an adequate name. It mounted almost to a power of divination. It always brought the icy steadiness to his nerves.
Then from the dark shadow of pines behind Marvie a lithe figure glided. Silently Jim Lacy drew his gun. The situation was clarified, and a dread of something he could not see or control faded away.
Marvie never looked up from the beloved face until Cedar Hatt halted. It was clear to Jim that Cedar's sudden violent check came from the surprise of seeing Rose in Marvie's arms.
Marvie likewise started, so suddenly and rudely that Rose rolled off his shoulder into the grass. She screamed. She swayed up to her knees, and with hands out she backed until the pine tree stopped her.
"So hyar's why you run off from me to-day?" he shouted, fiercely.
The muscles of his neck swelled, his lean jaw protruded.
"Don't--don't hurt me--Cedar!" cried Rose in terror.
"I'll beat you half to death. So hyar's why you played sick to-day an' then run off. You lyin' hussy! Answer me!"
"Yes--yes, Cedar. I--I did," replied Rose, sagging back against the tree. Her open hands fell to her sides. A paralysis of surprise began to leave her.
"This hyar ain't no accident?" he demanded, with a forceful gesture toward the stricken Marvie.
"No. I come--on purpose."
"How long's it b'en goin' on?"
"Weeks. I--I've come eight times."
"Who's this hyar young buck?"
"I'll never tell," flashed Rose.
Marvie stumbled to his feet and stepped forward, livid of face, but resolute.
"I'll tell you," he said.
"Don't--don't!" cried Rose. "Never tell him!"
"Who'n hell air you?" queried Cedar, in amaze, as if the factor of Marvie's participation in this treachery of Rose's had just dawned upon him.
"I'm Marvie Blaine," answered the lad.
"Blaine! Huh! thet means nothin' to me."
"I live with Ben Ide. We're related."
"Ben Ide! . . . Oho! You belong to them rich Ide folks, huh, as wouldn't wipe their feet on sich as us Hatts? Wal, damn your white skin, what you doin' hyar with my sister?"
"I--I love her," answered Marvie, manfully.
Cedar knocked him down.
"I'll kick your guts out," he snarled.
Marvie rolled out of reach, leaped to his feet, and came back, with fight struggling to master his consternation and distress for Rose.
"I seen you huggin' an' kissin' Rose. An' you got nerve to say you love her. Playin' with my sister, huh? An' you belong to them Ides!"
"Cedar, it's not--what you think," burst out Rose, with the scarlet dyeing her face.
"Git out, you lyin' little devil. If you'll lie about one thing you'll lie about another. . . . All the time you been meetin' this young buck. Layin' hyar in his arms, huh?"
"You skunk!" retorted Rose, passionately. "He loves me honest. . . .
You're too low-down to understand what that means."
"Didn't I ketch you layin' in his arms?" demanded Cedar, harshly, yet with a hint of wonder in his query.
"Yes, you did. An' you might have ketched me there often," cried the girl.
"Ed Richardson will kill you fer this!" hissed Cedar.
"Let him kill an' be damned!" returned Rose, with an equal passion.
"I don't belong to him. I hate him. Did he ever talk honest love to me? Bah! But Marvie Blaine did. An' he's made a woman out of me."
"Hatt, I've asked--Rose to marry--me," interposed Marvie, beside himself with emotion.
"Yes, an' Miss Ide is goin' to give me a decent home till I'm old enough," added Rose.
"Oho! Double-crossin' Ed an' all of us, hey? You black-eyed cat! . . . Git your hoss, an' soon as I take the hide off this kid lover of yours, we'll--"
"Cedar Hatt, you'll have to pack me dead--if you take me one single step. . . . You'll never drag me alive to your Pine Tree--"
"Shut up!" interrupted Cedar, and he struck her down.
Marvie, with furious imprecation, wildly swinging his arms, rushed at Hatt, only to be sent staggering against the tree.
"I'll blow your insides out!" yelled Cedar, reaching for his gun.
But before he could draw, Marvie closed with him, and as Hatt dragged the gun out they began a swift struggle for possession of it. Here Jim bounded out of his covert and down the slope, his gun half leveled. Neither of the contestants was aware of his presence, but Rose saw him, and she shrieked.
Jim tried to get a bead on Cedar. But he had to be sure of his aim. He did not want to risk injuring Marvie. As they whirled and wrestled, Cedar pulled his arm over his head, his hand clutching the gun. Marvie clung desperately to that arm.
Jim took a snap shot at Cedar's gun hand. Missed! He snapped another and the bullet almost tore Cedar's hand off. The gun went flying, while Cedar, backing away from Marvie, cursing hideously, suddenly froze stiff at sight of Jim.
Marvie had not yet seen his savior. No doubt he thought the shots had been fired accidentally in the struggle, wounding Cedar. Quick as a flash he snatched up Cedar's gun and, leveling it with both hands, he worked the trigger. Bang! Bang!
Cedar Hatt clutched at his breast. An awful blank surprise rendered his expression once more human. With gasps his mouth opened to emit blood
. Then he reeled and fell at Marvie's feet.
Marvie began to sag, changing his crouching position. The smoking gun dropped from his limp hands. Rose, on her knees, with a red stain on her lips, rocked to and fro, mute with terror.
"Wal, Marvie, that wasn't so bad for a youngster," said Jim, stepping forward. "I was just about to plug him myself."
As if a giant arm was grinding him around the lad turned.
"WHO'RE--YOU?" he whispered, wildly, almost maudlinly.
"Reckon I'm your old pard, Nevada, of Forlorn River days," replied Jim, and then he grasped Marvie as he collapsed. He embraced him and half carried him toward the trees, where Rose now clung, trying to get to her feet. "Brace up, boy. It's all over. There. . . .
An' you, Rose, buck up. Why, you're both showin' yellow after as game a fight as two kids ever made! . . . That's right. Let him lean against you. Wal, wal!"
Marvie, with eyes starting, cried out: "O my God--it's you--
NEVADA!"
"Shore is, boy, an' glad to meet you again."
"Mister Lacy--do--you--know Marvie?" faltered Rose.
"Wal, I should smile. Me an' Marvie are old pards."
Marvie suddenly seemed to revert to a consciousness that recalled Cedar Hatt. He stared in terror at the prone rustler.
"Nevada, you--you shot him," he said, huskily.
"Me? Nope. I only shot his hand off. You see, you was dancin' around so I couldn't bore him."
"He--he's DEAD?"
"Wal, I reckon so. Has that sort of limp look," replied Jim. "But I'll make shore." And Jim rose from his kneeling posture to walk over to Hatt. "Daid as a door nail! Marvie, he was roarin' a minute ago aboot blowin' out your insides. An', lo!--there he lays with his own insides blowed out. His own gun! Funny aboot things. . . . Don't look so sick. Wasn't he tryin' to kill you?
Wouldn't he have murdered Rose--or worse?"
Marvie sat up, pallid and wet, with his lower lip quivering and his eyes losing their fixed horror.
"Nevada! You were here--somewhere?"
"Shore. I was watchin' you an' Rose make love when Cedar sneaked up. Reckon I ought to have shot him pronto, but I wanted to heah what he'd say."
"Marvie, it's turrible," interposed Rose. "My own brother! But I don't care. I'm glad. He was a devil. . . . Did he hurt you?
Oh, there's blood on your hands!"
"I'm not hurt. It come off the gun. I felt it--all wet an' sliddery."
Jim studied these two brave young people and thrilled to his heart.
What had guided his steps on this eventful day?
"Rose, I reckon you can never be scared by Cedar again," he said.
"No, Mister Lacy. I'm free--saved," replied the girl, in agitation.
"LACY?" cried Marvie, starting up incredulously. "But you're Nevada!"
"Son, the Nevada you knew was Jim Lacy."
"My Heaven! what will Ben say? . . . An' Hettie," exclaimed Marvie, overcome.
"Reckon they'll say a lot--when they know. But promise me you won't give me away."
"Aw, Nevada, if you only knew how Ben--"
"Marvie, I'm not askin' you to keep it secret forever," interrupted Jim hastily. "But for a little while. Promise, old pard."
"I--will," replied Marvie, choking.
"An' you, too, Rose?"
"I can keep secrets. An' I mustn't let slip that you're Marvie's old pard Nevada?"
"Shore. An' now, Rose, let's get this confab over. I reckon my hunch is correct. But I need to know more."
"I'll tell anything," she replied, under her breath.
"You told me Dillon is haid of this Pine Tree outfit?" queried Nevada, bending down to the agitated face.
"Yes, sir," replied Rose. "Some of his men called him Campbell.
But he told Cedar his real name was Ed Richardson. He's from New Mexico. He figgered in the Lincoln County war an' was close to Billy the Kid. He fetched rustlers here with him. An' he got hold of Cedar, an' Burt Stillwell, an' Stewart, an' other Arizona riders whose names I never heard."
"Rose, how'd you happen on this?" asked Nevada, seriously.
"Cedar fetched Clan Dillon to our ranch, an' he tried to make up to me," went on Rose. "I liked him first off. But I soon saw what he was up to an' I had no use for him. Wal, one day Cedar threw me on a horse an' rode me off to a cabin over here in Pi+-on Brake.
Dillon was there. He tried makin' more love to me. But I bit an' kicked an' clawed him. Then he manhandled me bad, with Cedar grinnin' by. He'd have ruined me, too, but the men they was expectin' rode up an' I got thrown in the loft. Some of them were drunk. They all had money. An' they gambled an' stayed up all night. In the mornin' they had a powwow. Then Cedar fetched me back home an' swore he'd kill me if I squealed."
"Clan Dillon, then, is Ed Richardson--haid of this Pine Tree outfit," said Nevada, "an' Ben Ide's foreman."
"Yes, sir," replied Rose, bravely, with lips that trembled.
"Good Lord!" ejaculated Marvie. "Ben swears by Dillon. He's gone against Raidy, his oldest hand. . . . Gee! I wouldn't want to be in Dillon's boots when Ben finds out!"
"Wal, Marvie, it's likely that Dillon's boots will be stickin' out straight when Ben heahs the truth. . . . Rose, is there any particular reason why you'd like to go back home again? Clothes or anythin' you care for?"
"All the duds I own are on my back," replied Rose, ruefully.
"Cedar burned my pretty dance dress--that I bought to look nice for Marvie. My pony's all I have. An' he's here."
"Marvie, get your horse an' put Rose on hers an' leave heah pronto for the Ide ranch. Look sharp an' don't run into any riders. When you reach home turn Rose over to Hettie, an' both of you keep your mouth shut."
His compelling force wrung mute promises from both Marvie and the girl.
"My horse is on top, an' I cain't get him down heah. Rustle now."
Marvie started to lead Rose away, when he espied Cedar Hatt's gun lying on the brown pine needles.
"Nevada--can I take it?" he queried, haltingly.
"What? Oh, Cedar's gun? Shore you take it."
The girl turned with lips parted. "Mister Jim--Nevada--we'll see you again?"
"I reckon. Remember, I trust you to keep mum. Look sharp now, an' hurry along."
Nevada did not linger to watch them find and mount their horses; however, as he started up the slope he heard them, and felt that now all would be well with them. He climbed as one with wings.
How strange that the rough gully presented no obstacles! Reaching his horse, he tightened the cinches, leaped astride, and rode up to the level, where he faced north with a grim smile.
The afternoon had not far advanced. At a steady lope he covered the miles of forested ridge, downhill and easy going until he descended into the brakes. Here his horse toiled for an hour, at last to crash out into the trail. One glance at the bare ground showed him that Marvie and Rose had not yet come so far. He preferred to reach the Ide ranch before they did. His mind clamped round one thing and set there, cold and sure.
Five miles of travel, now slow, now swift, and then a hard climb took Nevada out of the brakes into the beautiful stately forest, where the pines thinned and straggled to the desert sage. How sweet the fragrance! He had once viewed from afar the Ide ranch, with its slope of sage and cedar leading up to the black benches.
The trail grew broad and sandy, so that his speeding horse thudded almost noiselessly on. Clumps of spruce and low branches of pines obscured the bends.
Nevada rode around an abrupt green curve almost to run down a horse coming toward him. He pulled his mount to a sliding halt. He heard a cry. The rider was a woman. Hettie Ide!
Chapter eighteen.
"Hettie," said Ben Ide as he stood on the porch and spread his arms to the glorious beauty and color of the Arizona landscape, "I once thought Forlorn River in the fall was pretty close to heaven. But Cedar Springs Ranch has it beaten a mile."
"Ben Ide! You going back on Forlorn River!" exclaimed Hettie, i
n surprise.
"Well, hasn't it? Look around. What do you think, yourself?"
"Long ago, before this wonderful autumn came, I was faithless to California," murmured Hettie, regretfully.
"Hettie, not faithless. I don't love the old home country any the less because I've learned to love this more. Lord knows I've reason to hate Arizona. But I can't. It grows on me. Here it's way in September. Frost an' ice every mornin'. Indian summer days. Look at the sage. It's purple. Look at the foothills.
Anyone would think they were painted. Look at the patches of gold an' scarlet back up in the woods."
"It's very beautiful," replied Hettie, more dreamily.
"Sister, we mustn't forget that mother is to be taken to San Diego for the winter months."
"I've not forgotten, Ben. But there's no hurry. This weather is perfect. Mr. Day claims it'll last till Christmas."
"Well, if it does, I could ask no more," said Ben. "Then I'll send mother with you an' Ina an' the kid to San Diego till spring. But I'll stay on here. I'd be afraid to leave."
"It wouldn't be wise, Ben. Things have grown from bad to worse. I fear you are in for more shocks."
"Tom Day says they must grow worse before they get better.
Heigho! . . . Well, I'm not lettin' disappointment sour me, anyhow."
"Disappointment? You mean--about ranching in Arizona?"
"Between you an' me, Hettie, I wasn't thinkin' of cattle at all," replied Ben, sadly.
Hettie suffered a contraction of her heart. If Ben knew what she knew! She prayed that he never would. And she gave no sign that she divined the undercurrent of his words.
Marvie Blaine sat on the porch step, morosely cleaning his rifle, which evidently he had used that day. The lad had grown taller, thinner, more of a man these last few weeks.
"Marv, you don't ride far away when you hunt, do you?" queried Ben.
"Lots of turkey an' deer right in our back yard," answered Marvie, evasively.
"Humph! Much good that does you. I've yet to eat the venison you killed."
"Ben, I've killed some turkeys," insisted Marvie, stoutly. "An' to- day I had a shot at a buck."
"Seems to me you take a lot of time off," went on Ben, "an' I'm supposed to pay you a cowboy's salary."
"I do the work given me. Dillon sure slights me on every job he can."
