Panguitch

by Zane Grey

Sue had no wish to resist that earnest appeal; indeed, her pulse was far from being calm. Rising, she slipped out between the flaps of her tent. Chess stood close, a tall dark figure, his face indistinguishable against the background of shadow. He made a dive to secure her hand, and, bending, he kissed her cheek.

  “Why … Chess!” exclaimed Sue. Amaze was succeeding to anger when she felt the shaking of his hands, and then, as she peered up, she made out his face. He was greatly excited. Evidently he had no consciousness of a bold action. He was not thinking about her.

  “Chane is asleep,” whispered Chess hoarsely. “I went close … to look at him. Say, it was hard not to wake him. But I was glad, for it gives me time.”

  “Time? For what, Chess? Why, boy, you’re all upset,” replied Sue.

  “Upset! Huh? You’d be upset, too … if you knew Chane,” went on Chess hurriedly. “If he finds out Manerube knocked me down … and what for … my God. Sue, he’ll kill him.”

  Sue felt a cold tightening prickle of her skin, and her thoughts raced. “You must keep him from finding out,” she said.

  “Sure. I’m going to. When I found out Chane was here, I asked your father if anyone had told about my fight with Manerube. He said he’d forgotten that. Then I begged him not to tell Chane. He said I had the right idea. He went with me to fix it with Jake and the other fellows who saw the fight. They were all darn’ nice about it.”

  Sue warmed to the boy as breathlessly he talked, leaning over her, holding her hands in a grip that proved his agitation.

  “Then, Sue … what do you think?” he went on almost pantingly.

  “Go on, Chess. Tell me. How can I think, when I don’t know?” rejoined Sue in haste.

  “We looked for Manerube,” whispered Chess tensely. “No one had seen him since Chane rode into camp. Your dad said that shore was damn strange. But I didn’t think so … Maybe Manerube knows Chane. Anyway, we hunted all around camp, and at last we found him sitting back on a log away from the campfire. He was thinking deep and our coming startled him. I pitched right in to tell him I … we didn’t want Chane to know about the fight … I reckon that surprised Manerube. He looked like it. And he got a little chesty, right off. You know how he is. Well, I made my part of it strong. I crawled … Think of me begging that liar’s pardon, just to prevent a fight here.”

  “But, Chess, you hardly needed to humiliate yourself so,” responded Sue. “Manerube would not have told Chane you struck him, that’s certain.”

  “Darn my thick head!” ejaculated Chess in exasperation. “Sure he wouldn’t. I could just feel how relieved he was … Well, I did it, and I reckon I’m not sorry. It was for Chane’s sake.”

  “Chess, it was manly of you,” Sue said earnestly. “Never mind what Manerube thinks … But, Chess, in your excitement because of your brother’s return, haven’t you exaggerated any danger of his … of any …?”

  “Sue,” interrupted Chess, “I’m not exaggerating anything. Chane might overlook insults … such talk as that squaw man stuff, or the vile hint about the little Paiute girl. It’d be just like Chane to pass all that by, at least in a camp where there were womenfolk. But if he learned Manerube had struck me … beat me in the face for defending his honor … why, so help me heaven … he’d kill him!”

  “Then, boy … you’ve done right,” faltered Sue, unnerved by Chess’ passion.

  “Don’t misunderstand me, Sue,” went on Chess as if suddenly he had been struck by an idea. “I haven’t any fears for Chane’s life. Did you think that? Say … wait till you know this brother of mine. But it’s that I’d hate to have him shed blood on my account … He’s done it, Sue. He shot a rowdy who mistreated me … in a saloon where I was drinking. Thank God, he didn’t kill him. But that was only luck … Sue, I ask you to help me be a better man, so Chane will never fight on my account again.”

  “Chess … you’re confessing now? You’ve been bad,” whispered Sue. He dropped his head and let go of her hands. “Don’t be afraid to tell me. I’m no fair-weather friend,” continued Sue.

  “Bad? I should smile,” he replied with a lift of his head. Then he looked down squarely into her face. “Sue, I was only a wild youngster. You’ve helped me. And I’m getting older … seems to me. Chane coming at this time … just makes me think. I don’t want him to fight for his sake, more than for mine. And for yours, Sue.”

  “Mine?” murmured Sue, suddenly shocked out of her warm solicitude. “I … why … what concern is it of mine?”

  “Didn’t I say if I couldn’t have you for a wife, I’d sure have you for a sister?” he queried forcefully.

  “Yes, you did, and it was very foolish talk,” responded Sue.

  “Just you wait. But never mind about that. All this talk of mine means only one thing. I’m scared stiff for fear Chane will fight again. He was terrible the last time … Now, Sue, Chane will get a job riding for your father. He’ll be with us. I knew that was coming. I’m glad, if only he never finds out about Manerube. If only I can be half a man.”

  “Chess, I think you’re pretty much of a man right now,” declared Sue.

  “You mean it, Sue, honest?” he asked eagerly

  “Yes, judging from all you’ve said here. If you stick to that I’ll be proud to help you.”

  “You could do anything with a fellow.”

  “Very well, flatterer,” returned Sue, trying to be light and gay, but failing. “I’ll put my remarkable powers to a test. Make me one promise?”

  “Yes. What is it?” demanded Chess.

  “Don’t drink any more. I know these men have liquor in camp.”

  “Have you heard anything of my drinking? I haven’t lately,” he said simply. “But you’ve hit my weakness.”

  “Well, then, good night, Little Boy Blue,” she said with a laugh.

  * * * * *

  The pitchy blackness of Sue’s tent, the heavy protecting feel of her blankets, had never before been so welcome as on this night. She was too thoughtful to sleep, at least for long. A kind of shame assailed her that she could have appeared calm, even patronizing to Chess, where the truth was that she verged on tumult. The cause of such possible agitation forced itself upon her consciousness. She made denials to her accusing self. They were of no avail. The brother Chess had eulogized, the man who had been forced into her inmost thoughts, the wild rider of many adventures and whose name bore a stigma, lay out under the cottonwoods, his stern sad face blanched in the moonlight. He was there. She could not forget his face. These facts had an importance before which all her arguments failed. A restless impatient wonder at herself led at length to rebellion. She called herself a sentimental fool. This desert adventure, throwing her in contact with men of the open, with the primitive life of wild horse wranglers, and the loneliness of that vast land, had warped her for the time out of her sensible and practical habits of mind and action.

  But … how do I know this strong new self is not more truly me than the other? she thought to herself. I always used to hold myself in. Maybe I wasn’t natural.

  So she pondered until she seemed lost in a sea of imaginings. What good did it do to think, considering that her feelings were not dependent upon her thought or governed by it? And as far as understanding what she regarded as queer reactions to a situation in which a strange rider seemed paramount, she arrived nowhere.

  But when she remembered Chess and Manerube, then she was not in the least bewildered. Chess loved his brother Chane with a great boyish worship. Manifestly he had been a trouble to that brother. No doubt he was guilty of some act through which the loyal Chane had suffered. At any rate, Chess showed the pangs of remorse; likewise the noble longings to redeem himself. In the few moments of his eloquent talk with Sue he had risen immeasurably in her regard.

  As for Manerube—that man had been frightened by the arrival of Chane Weymer. Sue’s observation and intuition met perfectly on th
is plane. She had clearly seen his pale face, his somber, amazed, sullen look, his preoccupation, his hurry. He had rubbed against her in passing, yet had never seen her. Only one reason for this occurred to Sue—he was afraid to meet Weymer.

  Why, I wonder, she pondered. Did he truly whip Chane Weymer, as he bragged he did? He feared Chess would tell Chane about the fight. That he had beaten Chess … been the cause of those dark-blue splotches that still show on Chess’ face.

  Whatever else there might be behind Manerube’s behavior, the main cause was that he was a coward. Sue had not liked the man, though she admitted his compelling personality, but this development damned him forever. Sue experienced a lifting sense of vague freedom; she had not been certain about Benton Manerube. She realized now where she stood in regard to him. Then, with the inconsistency of sex, which she admitted, Sue’s mind lingered on another phase of the situation, and it was a speculation as to what would actually happen if Chane Weymer were told the truth.

  Chess never asked me not to tell, she thought. Of course I never will … yet, I didn’t promise not to … What am I thinking? I believe I’d like to see Manerube beaten as he would have beaten Chess.

  Sue could scarcely have believed that, had she not heard her own inner voice, low and thrilling. It absolutely destroyed what poise she had attained. Rolling over to bury her face in her pillow, Sue gave up to the climax of nervous excitement and cried herself to sleep.

  * * * * *

  Sue awoke early enough, but she did not answer Mrs. Melberne’s call, or Chess’. Not until her father slapped on the tent and in hearty stentorian voice ordered her out, did she make any effort to get up. A lassitude seemed to hang on her, and a reluctance to face the clear open day.

  When she presented herself for breakfast, she found she was the last one. Mrs. Melberne’s eyes twinkled as she observed Sue’s carefully brushed hair, and clean white blouse with bright tie, and a soft woolen skirt, and beaded moccasins.

  “Daughter, I thought yesterday’s ride must have been too much for you, seeing you didn’t bounce out as usual,” she said dryly. “But I reckon you’re well enough. You sure look pretty. Ora tidied up a bit, too, but you needn’t let it worry you.”

  “Mother!” Sue exclaimed with a hot blush. Seldom indeed did she call Mrs. Melberne mother. “Do you mean to insinuate I … you …”

  “My dear, don’t mind me,” interposed Mrs. Melberne, suddenly warmed and won out of her teasing by that word mother.

  Then her father came striding up, and he too was quick to notice Sue did not have on her usual rough and comfortable garb. “Wal, girls will be girls,” he said mischievously. “Sue, I reckon you don’t ride with me today.”

  “Why, sure, Dad. Where are you going?” rejoined Sue with a tremendous effort not to appear to have caught his inference.

  “Ha! Ha! You shore fooled me, lass,” he replied. “Fact is we’re restin’ today an’ drawin’ plans for the great barbed-wire trap to catch wild horses.”

  “Dad, are you really going to use barbed wire?”

  “Wal, I reckon so. Shore I’m not keen aboot it. But we use wire or nothin’. The trap will take miles of fence. We cain’t use wood. We’ll have hard enough work cuttin’ an’ draggin’ enough wood for posts.”

  “Dad, I’m surprised, that’s all,” Sue returned coldly, and bent to her breakfast.

  Melberne showed that his daughter’s disapproval cut him to the quick. He argued and explained, but as Sue did not look up again or speak, he finally dropped his head and strode off, grumbling to himself. From this Sue divined that she had more influence with her father than she had supposed, and it convinced her that if the barbed-wire trap turned out to be actually brutal, she might persuade him to abandon such means.

  Before finishing her breakfast Sue discovered with a little shock of dismay that she was vastly curious about Ora this particular morning. Mrs. Melberne’s hint had helped along a feminine interest that had until today fallen to low ebb. She looked everywhere around camp to locate the girl, and the last place was the cottonwood tree where she and her father had made the bed for Chane. It annoyed her, too, to note that she had begun to call him Chane in her thoughts. The bed had been removed and Ora was not in sight. Thereupon Sue insisted upon helping Mrs. Melberne wash and wipe the breakfast utensils, an act which, under the particular circumstances, evidently mystified the good woman.

  Jake happened along, his arms full of bundles brought from the wagon, and at sight of Sue his brown seamed face wrinkled into a shiny mass.

  “Now, Miss Sue, if you don’t just look good for sore eyes!” he ejaculated. “Is there anything going on today?”

  “Not that I know of,” Sue replied with a smile.

  “We’re a lucky lot of bushwhackers, to have two such lasses as you and Ora to remind us of home … Now I intended to fetch you a box of candy, but the old fellow in the store near dropped dead when I asked him for it.”

  “Thanks all the same, Jake.”

  Jake stepped closer to Sue and spoke in lower tone, “You know about Chess’ brother being here?”

  “Yes, I saw him last night.”

  “Say, but that boy Chess is happy,” went on Jake, manifestly having shared Chess’ joy. “He was worried some last night. I talked with him and encouraged him to keep secret that little trouble … you know … when Manerube first came. I like Chess. He’s got a good heart. I’d sure like to meet his mother.”

  “Jake, what do you think of Chess’ brother?” Sue queried deliberately, yet the blood tingled in her cheeks. This kindly, just man was the only one in the camp of whom she could have asked that.

  “I’ll tell you when I make up my mind,” replied Jake seriously. “He’s the finest-looking rider I ever saw. Too bad he’s come to us with Manerube’s …”

  Captain Bunk, staggering under a load of firewood, jostled against Jake, interrupting what he meant to say.

  “Heave to, Jake. You’re always on the port side,” said the sailor pleasantly. “How are you, mate?”

  “Couldn’t be better, Cap,” responded Jake, extending his broad hand. “Say, you’re all scratched up. Why, man, have you been fighting wildcats?”

  “Jake, yesterday I went to navigate a fleet of wild mules. They run me into the brush.”

  At that moment Chess swung up with his springy stride, bright, keen, all smiles, his eyes glad at sight of Sue. “Hello, sister! Where have you been all day? There’s somebody here who wants to meet you.”

  “Yes? Oh, I suppose you mean your brother,” said Sue casually. But it was only outwardly that serenity abided with her. She seemed powerless to help her feelings. The sight of Chess simply made her heart beat unwontedly. He liked her so well. How plain that was. Not yet had the idea occurred to him that Sue might not care to meet this disgraced brother. Indeed, in Chess’ mind no idea of disgrace could ever have been harbored. Sue wanted to resent the familiar word sister; she wanted to avoid meeting Chane Weymer. But at that moment she did not have it in her to hurt this boy, who had promised to go straight for her sake. So, assuming an air of amiable indifference, which she was far from feeling, Sue permitted Chess to lead her away under the cottonwoods.

  Chess was talking, as usual, only faster, and with elation—how he had moved Chane back in the grove, shaved him, and made him look presentable, and other things Sue did not catch. She was concerned with her own smothered emotions. Vaguely she seemed aware of other sensations—the sense of dragging footsteps over a long distance, the intensely vivid blue sky and gold of cottonwood, the fragrance of wood smoke that drifted across the way. Then Sue espied Chess’ tent, and near it, in the shade of a full-foliaged tree, a bed in which a man was sitting upright. Sue did not see a disheveled head, a pallid face, a ragged beard, things she remembered. Could this person be Chess’ brother? How stupid of her, as Chess was leading her straight to the tree! Sue dropped her eyes. It
seemed as if she was being led to some sort of execution. Then a sudden fury of spirit dismissed this incomprehensible mood or perversity and left her as she used to be.

  “Chane, here she is … Sue Melberne!” cried Chess joyfully. His tone expressed a thousand times more than words.

  “I’m sure glad to meet you,” Chane Weymer said. His voice had the same ring that was notable in Chess’, only it was deeper.

  “How do you do, Mister Weymer,” responded Sue, lifting her eyes. “I hope you’re better this morning.”

  Before he could reply to Sue they were accosted by her father, who, approaching from the other side, at once drew attention with his genial authoritative presence.

  “Wal, heah you are, Weymer, entertained by the young folks,” he said in his loud voice. “Shore you look like a different man this mawnin’.”

  “You’re Melberne, boss of the outfit, I reckon,” replied Chane, extending his hand. “I’m much obliged to you. Yes, I do feel different. But I’m tired … and hungry. Your good wife said I must eat sparingly today.”

  “Shore. Go easy on grub. Reckon you’ve had some hard knocks lately?” rejoined Melberne tentatively. He squatted down beside Weymer with manner curious, as if information was his due, yet wholly the kind and sympathetic host to an unfortunate guest.

  Sue seated herself on one of the packs nearby and proceeded to employ these few moments when her father’s presence distracted interest from her.

  Chane Weymer wore a clean corduroy shirt, too small for his wide shoulders. Sue had seen Chess wear it. This rider did not appear to be brawny of build, yet the muscles rippled under the tight sleeves whenever he moved his arms. His face, shorn of the ragged beard, was the most compelling Sue had ever gazed upon. It was brown and smooth, with a blue tinge under the skin. He did not resemble Chess, yet anyone could have told they were brothers. His dark hair appeared as if touched with frost.

  “No, Melberne, I can’t say I’ve had any particular hard knocks,” he was saying. “I’ve been over in the Paiute country. Bought a bunch of mustangs from Toddy Nokin. I’d had the bad luck to fall in with some horse thieves … Bud McPherson and his pals. They trailed us, stampeded the stock. I had to take to the river to save my life. McPherson had got hold of my rifle. They ran me up a box cañon, so I had to cross the San Juan. Lucky I had a grand horse. Both rivers were high … Well, I missed the Hole-in-the-Wall and had to climb out of the cañon country way around under Wild Horse Mesa. I had a little grub the Paiutes gave me, but it didn’t last long. Reckon that’s about all.”