by Zane Grey
She found the pony in the unfenced north end of the clearing. He was wild and she did not easily corner him. But finally, when she had him and was patting his neck she wondered what she had wanted him for. And she seemed struck with the fact that it was not beyond her to ride up on the Diamond to warn Jim Traft his life might be in danger. But worried as Molly was, she did not think that so dire a thing would threaten until the drift fence actually crossed the Diamond. Down in the valley the opinion was general that the barbed wire would never go so far. Moreover, Molly remembered more than once when Slinger Dunn had ridden off with intent to fight, and this morning he had not been like that.
Three days later, while Molly was in the village with her mother, she heard that her brother was there, drunk and quarrelsome. At the store she met Andy Stoneham, who was a clerk for Enoch Summers. While waiting upon Molly, he contrived to whisper: “Heaps goin’ on, an’ hadn’t I better come out tonight?” Molly nodded, and joined her mother, conscious of a sinking sensation in her breast.
Old Enoch was full of talk. “High jinks goin’ on around West Fork. Hain’t been so busy since last fall round-up.”
“What’s goin’ on?” queried Mrs. Dunn.
“Cattle movin’. Riders comin’ through.”
“This time of year! Well, that’s strange.”
“So it is, Mrs. Dunn. An’ we can lay it to thet drift fence. Did you heah the latest aboot Jim Traft?”
“Where’d I ever hear any news?”
Molly felt the blood tingle in her cheeks.
“Wal, it’s shore news,” replied the storekeeper. “Young Traft has had notices put up thet he’d make no claim to cattle already drifted down into Sycamore Canyon. His drift fence has crossed the head of Sycamore an’ is now out on the Diamond.”
“Well, is that all the news?” declared Mrs. Dunn, indifferently.
“Wal, most folks is agreed thet Jim Traft was shore more than square to the Cibeque when he done thet,” went on Summers. “Mebbe there’s more’n a thousand haid of steers, let alone cows an’ calves, in the brakes of Sycamore. Seth Haverly an’ his outfit sold near two hundred two-year-olds hyar yesterday. Forty-eight dollars a head! An’ they’ve gone back fer another drive. Reckon they’ll have most of thet stock, before the other boys get wind of it.”
“Forty-eight a head!” ejaculated Mrs. Dunn, who appeared to be conjuring with figures. “Arch was in on that?”
“Wal, it seems not. He’s had a fall-out with the Cibeque, or somethin’. Anyway, he was in town last night. It was Slinger who busted in here with news thet the drift fence had reached Tobe’s Well. It shore upset all reckonin’s around West Fork. Tobe’s Well is way out on the Diamond.”
While her mother completed her purchases, Molly waited in the grip of conflicting feelings. She could not help a thrill to hear Jim Traft kindly spoken of, nor a start at the information he had passed Sycamore Canyon with his fence. This was the dead line drawn by the riders of the brakes. Traft had disregarded their notice.
Molly calculated that he was then actually within ten miles of West Fork, and not more than forty, to the east end of the Diamond. She had ridden up and down the brakes of Beaver Canyon and knew the trail to Tobe’s Well. She had also been over the Derrick Trail once, but had no confidence that she could remember how to find it.
After supper that evening she waited at the gate for Andy, something she had never before done, and she knew he would make stock of it.
“Shucks!” he ejaculated, when he arrived to beam upon her with his homely face. “It’s different when you want suthin’ of somebody, ain’t it, Molly?”
“I reckon so, Andy. You see what bein’ friendly does. I’m doin’ a heap of worryin’ an’ I’m just low-down enough to want your help.”
“Wal, you’ve cause to worry, Molly Dunn,” he said. “Let’s get out of sight somewhere. I’m plumb scared of thet Hackamore Jocelyn.”
Molly led him back of the cabin along the edge of the clearing to the creek and halted beside a huge fallen pine. The amber creek babbled over the rocks below; the squirrels and jays were noisy; the woods was full of the golden glow of sunset.
“Molly, last night I happened on suthin’ thet’s got me scared stiff,” he began. “After work hours I went up the crick to ketch a mess of trout. An’ as I was comin’ back along the crick trail I seen Seth Haverly an’ some riders. I ducked into the brush an’ squatted down. I reckoned they’d pass. But I’m a son-of-a-gun if they didn’t stop in a little glade not forty steps from where I hid. With Seth was his brother Sam, an’ Hack Jocelyn. The Haverlys stayed in their saddles, but Jocelyn got off. He acted oneasy. An’ he walked up an’ down the trail. They was waitin’ fer some one.”
“I’ll bet it was Slinger,” said Molly, who sometimes in excitement used her brother’s sobriquet.
“It shore was. Wal, fust off, Jocelyn swore Slinger wouldn’t come, an’ Seth said he would. … Molly, they stayed there till dark an’ I could repeat every blame word they said. But heah short an’ sweet is what it all means. … Hack Jocelyn has got in with the Cibeque outfit, an’ they’re aimin’ to double-cross Slinger. They’re goin’ to cut the drift fence an’ lay the blame on to Slinger. They’re goin’ to kidnap Jim Traft an’ squeeze a big ransom out of his uncle. Thet’s the stake Jocelyn is playin’ fer. But I seen, if Seth couldn’t, thet Hack is playin’ a deeper game than they savvy. Mebbe Slinger is on to him. ’Cause Slinger wouldn’t heah of Jocelyn throwin’ in with the Cibeque. He wouldn’t go in the cattle drive they’re plannin’. Thet all came out in their talk before Slinger got there.”
“Oh—did he come?” cried Molly, breathlessly.
“Yep. Jest before dark. Hart Merriwell an’ Boyd Flick was with him. ‘Seth,’ says Slinger, cool-like, ‘I’m splittin’ with the Cibeque. No hard feelin’s. You’ve got mebbe a better man than me in Jocelyn. Anyway, I cain’t take the share of this cattle money you sent me. Much obliged, Seth. An’ heah it is.’
“An’ then Seth says,” went on Andy, after a pause, ‘All right, Slinger. You’re shore your own boss. An’ if there’s no hard feelin’s on your side there’s shore none on mine. But you ought to come in on thet kidnappin’ deal. Why, it’s a goldmine. Old Jim Traft won’t blink an eye at a hundred thousand.’
“Slinger owned it was a pretty slick deal an’ easy money, but he jest couldn’t see it thet way.
“‘An’ why in hell not?” asked Seth, sore as a pup.
“‘Wal,’ says Slinger, ‘I reckon there’s more’n one reason. But particular with me is thet I happen to be goin’ to shoot Jim Traft.’
“‘So we figgered,’ says Seth, ‘but cain’t you wait till we’ve got thet ransom money?’
“‘Nope,’ replies Slinger. ‘I don’t like the deal. An’ if I happen to run into any of you Cibeque gents up on the Diamond, I’ll take particular offense. Savvy thet?’
“‘We ain’t deaf, Slinger. But I, fer one, am shore plumb surprised,’ answers Seth, slick-like.
“‘Wal,’ went on Slinger, ‘I’ve been sort of surprised myself, lately.’ … An’ he shore said it full of meanin’. Slinger rode away then, an’—”
“You heahed all this last night?” interrupted Molly, poignantly.
“Yes, before sundown.”
“But we heahed Slinger was drunk!”
“Nary drunk. Somebody lied to you. He was as cool an’ hard as ice. Those fellars was scared of him, Molly. I haven’t seen him since. Now to go on with what happened! You never heerd such cussin’. Some from Seth an’ most from Jocelyn. Then they got their haids together again. It was all right with them aboot Slinger goin’ to kill young Traft. But they didn’t want to spoil their stake. An’ they reckoned they’d have to give up the ransom idee. Hack Jocelyn busts in then with another. An’ it was that if Slinger did queer their kidnap deal by killin’ Traft, they’d have a chanct to rustle a big bunch of stock an’ lay thet on to Slinger also. This struck Seth an’ his brother all right. An’ they won ov
er the other two fellars. Then they started off. One of the horses must have smelled me fer he shied an’ didn’t come far from jumpin’ on me.
“‘Somethin’ in thet brush,’ said Jocelyn.
“By this time I was pretty scared an’ I up an’ tore through the brush. Mebbe Jocelyn didn’t let out a roar. An’ he shot three times after me. I don’t want no bullets closer to me.”
“Oh, Andy, they’ll find you out,” cried Molly, fearfully.
“Wal, mebbe, but I don’t see how they can. I’d hate to have thet Hack Jocelyn meet up with me very soon, an’ you bet I’ll see him fust.”
“But Jim Traft will never see Slinger first,” wailed Molly.
“I reckon not. Molly, ain’t you a little over-concerned aboot Traft?” asked Andy.
“No more than I am about Slinger,” retorted Molly. “It’s an awful mess. Oh, Andy, what can I do?”
“Do? Good Heavens! gurl, you cain’t do nothin’,” he declared. And his idea of the enormity of such a supposition made Molly conscious of her helplessness. Yet could she not ride up to Tobe’s Well, find the Diamond camp, and save Jim Traft from both her brother and the Haverlys with their new and treacherous ally? Tobe’s Well was only ten miles. She could ride there and back in less than half a day. If she once eluded Slinger! But she would have to wait until he left, for he might come home any time, and he would find her trail and run her down. It was not conceivable that he would ride directly into the Diamond camp bent on his deadly intent. Slinger was slow to act upon any project, secretive and wary. Like an Indian he would watch the trails.
Andy, roused to a sense of his importance, repeated parts of his story, and then guardedly leaned toward the possibility of telling Slinger of the plot against him.
“Molly, you might let on you heerd all this yourself,” continued Andy. “I reckon Slinger would believe you. Shore he would. An’ thet’d let me out. I’m plumb afraid of Hackamore Jocelyn. He’s got it in fer me because of you. Aw, I figgered thet. He only had to look at me onct.”
“Andy, I’ll not give you away,” said Molly, earnestly. “An’ I’m shore owin’ you a good deal. … Yes, I ought to tell Slinger. Oh, I must think. … Andy, I’ll go back now. I don’t want to risk missin’ him.”
They walked through the woods in the gloaming, and Molly did not repulse Andy when he timidly took her hand. He deserved some recompense for his interest in her brother’s fortunes and his loyalty to her.
She went as far as the gate with him. “Andy, you’ve been good to me lately,” she said. “An’ I like you for it. I haven’t a friend in all this valley, unless it’s you. I wish I could be more to you. But I—I cain’t.”
Bidding him good night, she ran back to the cabin. It was quite dark under the porch. No lamp had been lighted.
“You better come a-runnin’,” came in a slow, cool voice from the gloom. “Who was thet with you? Looked like Andy.”
“Oh—Arch—” panted Molly, feeling her way to the porch. “Yes, it was Andy.”
“You like thet fellar?”
“Why, yes—more than I used to—which wasn’t much.”
“Wal, Andy ain’t as no-good as some of them. He works. An’ he doesn’t guzzle drink all the time.”
“Arch, are you goin’ to be home a while now?” asked Molly, sitting down beside him. She bumped against his gun, which contact gave her an icy little shudder.
“Pa had one of his sinkin’ spells tonight,” said Arch, ignoring her query.
“He looked bad today,” rejoined Molly, sighing. “Where’s ma?”
“She got him to bed an’ I reckon she’s in there. … I been sittin’ heah thinkin’, Molly.”
“What aboot?”
“Wal, fer once not aboot my own damn self. Pa’s failin’, an’ ma’s thet contrary. Course I’m home so little it don’t matter. But it’s tough on you, Molly. What’re you goin’ to do soon—when we bust up?”
“Oh—Arch!” faltered Molly, and she felt for his hand, slipping hers into it.
“Might as well face it,” he went on. “I’m goin’ to get killed or have to leave the Cibeque country. Pa won’t last long. An’ ma will go back to Illinois. Will you go with her?”
Molly pondered a long moment. “I wouldn’t if she didn’t make me. I’d hate to leave heah. … Arch, I can get work in Flag.”
“Shore. An’ it ain’t a bad idee. But don’t get any moonshine idees in your haid.”
“What you mean, Arch?”
“Wal, aboot Jim Traft. Because you’ll be in fer a heap more hurt than you’ve had.”
Molly had fortified herself for the very thing hinted in his slow drawl, nevertheless it made her blood run cold.
“I’m shore in for more hurt any way you look at it,” said Molly, sadly.
“Natural like. Life ain’t no fiesta fer the Dunns. … If I’d only knowed when I was a kid what I know now!”
Molly thought the moment propitious.
“Arch, the Cibeque outfit is goin’ to double-cross you. Hack Jocelyn is at the bottom of it. But Seth Haverly is as treacherous. They want you to throw in with them an’ kidnap Jim Traft. Hold him for ransom. Course you know this, because you refused to be in it. But there’s a lot you don’t know.
“Wal, you darned little wood-mouse!” he ejaculated. “You was there last night?”
“Arch, I heahed more’n you,” she replied, evasively.
“Ahuh. What was thet shootin’ aboot, after I left?”
“Hack Jocelyn heahed a noise in the brush an’ shot three times.”
“Wal! I come darn near ridin’ back. … Molly, what did you heah?”
Briefly then she told him what had happened along the trail, as related by Andy; and though the supposition was that she had been there she actually did not lie.
“—!” muttered Slinger Dunn, and he held her hand tight. “I had a hunch. I didn’t trust Jocelyn. But thet Seth could be so low-down! My Gawd!”
“Arch, it couldn’t be no worse,” went on Molly, in agitation. “They mean to cut the drift fence an’ lay it on to you. An’ if the ransom deal falls through—owin’ to you killin’ Jim Traft—they’ll rustle a big bunch of cattle. An’ it’ll all be laid on you!”
She felt him freeze, and he was silent so long that she could not restrain an appeal for him to abandon an idea of revenge and to go away somewhere.
“An’ leave it easy fer them?” he queried, harshly. “I know their deal now. … I’ll settle with them afterward.”
He slipped off the porch. His moccasined feet made no sound and his dark form vanished in the gloom. Molly clapped a hand over her mouth. Of what avail to call out!
Shaken and wretched, she climbed to her loft and crawled to her bed. Through the hours of distress that followed, one growing resolve at last found permanence, and then she slept.
In the gray of dawn she was peering down from the loft, watching Slinger Dunn—when on the first time for long he rolled out of his bed on the porch and pulled on his boots and buckled on his spurs and gunbelt—when he slipped off in the gloom to return with his horse—when he packed blankets and biscuit and meat, and then rode away on his mission.
Molly sat there, thinking out her plan. She would let Slinger get some miles ahead, then she would follow, climb the Diamond, and when some distance from Tobe’s Well she would make a detour and hit the trail beyond Traft’s camp, and ride back to it. She could hardly get lost, going only a short way from the trail. The peril lay in being discovered by Slinger. He would probably half kill her. But if she accomplished her purpose and saved Jim Traft from his enemies, she did not care what Slinger might do. In fact, that would be the end of Molly Dunn in the Cibeque. She would be hated from one end of the valley to the other. Traitress! A little fool who betrayed her brother and her kind for love of a man who had only played with her! An object of scorn she would be, and so far as Seth Haverly and Hack Jocelyn were concerned, she would be marked for life. Molly knew the Cibeque. Seth Haverly would c
hoke the very life out of her, and Hack Jocelyn would do worse. These convictions added to Molly’s terror, yet in no wise changed her mind.
Before her mother was up, Molly put on her buckskins and slipped down out of the loft with a blanket, which she carried out to the barn and strapped on her pony. She fed him grain. Then she coiled a lasso and tied it to the end of his halter.
The sun was rising like a rose in the cloudless sky. Dark and wild loomed the Diamond. It seemed to call to Molly, every moment added to her courage. She saw clearer the beauty and the good of her action, if it were successful. In time even her own people would see that.
“What you up early for?” demanded her mother.
“Didn’t you heah Slinger?” asked Molly, who knew how to divert attention from herself.
“No, I didn’t and you quit calling him that name,” returned Mrs. Dunn, garrulously. “Haven’t I told you enough?”
“Ma, if I guess right he’s aimin’ to add more to what gave him that name.”
“Oh, Lord help us!” cried the mother, and she launched into a tirade against her son and ended against her husband and Molly and the low-down life in the brakes.
That likewise strengthened Molly. She made another resolve. If she got out of this adventure alive, she would ride to Keech’s and hire the boy there to drive her to Flagerstown. There she would go to work. Molly roused to a glamour over this enterprise.
After breakfast, the first moment that offered, she ran to the barn, and leading Jigger out she mounted him and rode into the woods.
Soon she came to the trail, in the dust of which she espied the tracks of Slinger’s horse, and turning into it she rode north. Jigger was not shod and his hoofs padded softly. He could not be heard very far, and Molly vowed that she would see any rider before he saw her.
It was still and cool in the forest, and she soon reached the zone where the Diamond cut off the morning sunlight. Here the dark shade was almost like twilight. The trail followed the creek and often crossed it. The amber water foamed around the boulders. Great gray rocks lined the banks, and above stood the maples and oaks, and the lofty pines and spruces.
