The Hash Knife Outfit

by Zane Grey

  “No, I’m happy to say. It’s a fact, Uncle.”

  “Wal!—You long-headed, big-fisted tenderfoot son-of-a-gun from Mizzouri! … Jim, I’m clear locoed. I’m dead beat. I’m—wal, I don’t know what. How’n hell did you do it?”

  “I went straight to see Jed Stone.”

  “You braved thet outfit?” yelled Traft.

  “Sure. Jed Stone was sure decent. He agreed to get out. But Croak Malloy shot a match out of my fingers, then the cigarette out of my mouth. I sure was mad. I cussed him—called him a crooked-faced little runt. He’d shot at me then, but Stone kicked his gun. It went off in the air. Then I piled into Croak. I banged him around—then knocked him about a mile out of the door. He was trying to get up when I went out, and I gave him a good stiff kick, and left.”

  “My Gawd!—Son, don’t tell me you punched thet gunman, same as these cowboys?” ejaculated Traft.

  “I reckon I did, Uncle. It was foolish, of course. But I was mad. And I didn’t know then that the little runt was Malloy. It mightn’t have made any difference.”

  “Croak Malloy! Beat an’ kicked around by a Mizzouri tenderfoot! … Jim, my boy, you’re as good as dead,” wailed the old rancher.

  “Don’t you believe it,” retorted Jim. “And how long do I have to serve as a tenderfoot. … Well, no more about the Hash Knife now. We moved up to Yellow Jacket and went to cutting poles. And on our way out we blazed a line out to the road. After the holidays we’ll go back, and by spring be ready——”

  Suddenly it dawned upon him that something had happened which made the home-building at Yellow Jacket a useless and superfluous task. His heart contracted and sank like cold lead.

  “Wal, you’re an amazin’ youngster,” said Traft, with his keen blue eyes full of admiration and pride. “You scare me, though. I reckon it’s a more Christian thing to slug a man than to shoot him. You ’pear to have a hankerin’ to use your fists. I heard aboot your hittin’ Bambridge in the station at Winslow. You never told me that, you sly young dog. Didn’t want to worry your old uncle, huh? … Wal, I can see you’ve more on your mind. An’ I’ll wait to hear aboot Bambridge, the Hash Knife deal, an’ Yellow Jacket.”

  “Uncle, I ran into Babbitt’s, and there, behind a counter, was Molly,” burst out Jim, and the mere telling of it aloud caused a regurgitation of fierce emotions. “She’s broken our engagement. … She’s gone to work. … I’m stunned.”

  “Jim, don’t take it too hard,” replied the old rancher, soothingly. “Don’t imagine it a permanent break. Why, she done it because she loves you so much. She came to me an’ told me, Jim. How she wasn’t good enough for you—she hadn’t the courage to marry you—your family would stick up their noses at her, an’ all that sort of thing. I tried to argue her out of goin’. But she’s a stubborn little minx. Independent, an’ proud, too, in her way. So I jest told her thet you’d understand, but you’d never take her at her word. She cried at thet. Jim, she couldn’t hold out against you for five minutes. So don’t let it break you all up.”

  “My word, Uncle, but you’re a life-saver,” replied Jim, with intense relief. “It’s bad enough, Lord knows, but if there’s any hope I can stand it. Do you think Glory made it hard for Molly?”

  “Wal, I reckon she did,” said Traft, seriously. “An’ all the time she was tryin’ to put poor Molly at her ease. But she couldn’t. An’ that’ll never come until Molly gets Glory on her own ground. Then there’ll be a balance struck. Glory an’ I have got on fine, Jim. She’s a comfort to me, an’ has been confidin’ a little of her troubles at home. I reckon we’ll never let her go back.”

  “No, we’ll keep her out West. Uncle, how is she? Has her health improved?”

  “Wal, Glory’s got thet bad cough yet, an’ she gains but slow. I reckon she has improved. It’ll take summer an’ outdoors among the pines an’ cedars to make her strong again. Suppose you hunt her up. Then after supper you can get the rest off your chest.”

  “All right, Uncle, but just one word more,” returned Jim, eagerly. “You tell me not to fear a permanent break with Molly. When she’s made it, already! I’m sick. I’m dumbfounded. I was so furious I called her a damn little fool.”

  “So she is. An’ thet won’t hurt your cause none. Now, Jim, don’t fall into this broken-heart cowboy style an’ go to drinkin’. I tell you Molly worships the ground you walk on. An’ if I was you I’d jest go an’ pack her back home here to the ranch.”

  “Pack her?” echoed Jim, aghast.

  “Shore. She won’t come willin’, not very soon. So I’d jest fetch her back by force. A good spankin’ wouldn’t do no harm. But I reckon you haven’t nerve enough for thet. Molly has given the town people lots to gossip about. Glory will tell you. An’ you in turn can give them somethin’ to gossip about.”

  “Ahuh. … Thanks, Uncle,” rejoined Jim, soberly. “I’ll consider your advice. It appeals to me, especially the spanking part.”

  Jim left the living-room, absent-mindedly fingering the ring box in his pocket. He did not take all his uncle had said as absolute gospel, but it had surely checked the riot of his feelings. Then he knocked at Gloriana’s door.

  “Who’s there?” she called, in rather a startled voice.

  Some devil beset Jim, perhaps the besetting sin of his joke-loving cowboys, and without reflection he announced in a gruff voice:

  “Darnell.”

  He heard an exclamation, followed by quick footsteps, and a sudden locking of the door.

  “You nagging scoundrel!” called Gloriana, her voice ringing. “The nerve of you! I’m sick of your chasing after me. Get out of this house or I’ll scream for my uncle. You’ll reckon with Jim and his cowboys for the way you’ve treated me.”

  Jim was thunderstruck again, though in a vastly different way.

  “Oh, Glory,” he cried, “it’s only Jim. I thought I was being funny.”

  “Jim!”

  “Sure. Don’t you know my voice? I just rode in. Had a word with Uncle and here I am.”

  “Are you—alone?” she asked, fumbling at the lock.

  Wherewith she opened the door to disclose a lovely though most agitated countenance. Jim went in, stricken at the scare he had evidently given her.

  “Glory, I’m darn sorry. I don’t know what possessed me—to think of that fellow Darnell. Please forgive me.”

  “Have you heard—anything?” she asked, searching his face with darkly troubled eyes.

  “About Darnell? I think I did hear that name. Before I left for Yellow Jacket. But I only just got back. Saw Molly! … Imagine my luck! I ran in Babbitt’s—and almost fell over her. We had a few words, sister. … Then I came home. Saw Uncle for a minute. … Aren’t you glad to see me?”

  “Glad!” she echoed, with a rich deep note. A flash of light, like a golden warmth, seemed to erase the havoc from her face. She closed the door and enveloped Jim. Her embrace, her kisses, were inexpressibly sweet to him that moment. And he hugged her in a way which left no doubt about his own gladness.

  “You great big handsome hairy—bear!” she cried, breathlessly. “You look like a tramp. You smell like horses and smoke. … Oh, Jim, I’m so glad to see you!”

  “We’re square on that, then,” he said. “Come to the fire. Gee! I’m nearly frozen. I’ve been so knocked out I hardly knew it was cold. Let me look at you.” Turning his back to the cheerful blazing logs, he placed a hand on each of her shoulders and ran searching eyes over her face and form, and back again to her face. It was lovelier than ever—with a subtle change not wholly of more rounded contour and a hint of color, but of less strain. She had rested. She had gained, as he ascertained mostly by the feel of her shoulders.

  “Well, what’s your verdict?” she asked, meeting his gaze with a wistful smile. Gloriana’s eyes had the inscrutable quality of beauty that was a blending of purple hue and a light which anyone might well mistake. But Jim saw deeper, and he was satisfied.

  “I couldn’t ask more. You’re on the
mend.”

  “Jim, I was fine until that damned Darnell turned up here in Flag,” she replied. “I told you he would. It was a couple of weeks ago. But I found out before I saw him. He came here—coaxed and threatened. I told him I would have absolutely nothing more to do with him. He has bobbed up every time I went downtown, to stores, post-office, everywhere. Finally I stayed home. And you bet I was angry when I took you for him.”

  “What’s he doing out here, Glory?” asked Jim.

  “He followed me. But he’ll have more than one string to his bow. Said he had gone to work for a rancher named Bambridge——”

  “Oh, I remember now,” interrupted Jim. “I saw him that day at the station. So your erstwhile beau has thrown in with Bambridge? Interesting—and funny.”

  “Jim, it’s not funny to me,” she spoke up, hurriedly. “I’m afraid of Darnell. He’s a two-faced slicker. But he has become acquainted in town. He’s already popular with the girls. I’m deathly afraid.”

  “Of what?” laughed Jim. He was in fact a little amused at the way he found his Western development disposed of Mr. Darnell.

  “He’ll talk about me—disgrace you, hurt you in Flag.”

  “Talk about you, will he? Glory, what do you suppose Curly Prentiss or Slinger Dunn would do—if he so much as spoke one slighting word of you?”

  “I—I can’t imagine, Jim,” she replied, her great eyes dilating.

  “Well, it will be funny—unless I get to him first. … Glory dear, this Darnell has no claim on you?”

  “No, Jim, on my honor,” she replied.

  “Then dismiss him from your mind. He has struck the wrong place to hound a girl.”

  “I’m afraid he’ll wheedle Uncle out of money,” went on Gloriana, slowly yielding to relief.

  “Ha! Ha! That’s funny. He can’t do it, Glory. He’s not slick enough. Besides, he has gotten in with the wrong rancher. Bambridge is a cattle thief. We know it, and we can prove it presently. Darnell will have to step mighty slow and careful.”

  “Oh-h!” sighed Gloriana, and leaned her head against him. Jim could feel the quick beat of her pulse. How sensitive, how highly organized she was!

  “Have you had any other trouble, sister? Come out with it.”

  “Yes, with Molly. Jim, she’s the sweetest kid. Honestly, I just fell in love with her. But I made a tactless start. I wanted only to help her. She misunderstood. She thought I was stuck up, and she got the idea she wasn’t good enough for you. When she told me she was leaving here I begged and I scolded. I talked sense to her. I argued myself hoarse. I was sincere, too. Only she imagined me afraid of you and lying to her. Then I lost my temper—I have one, if you remember, Jim—and I—well, I made it worse by telling her how lucky she was—that you meant to marry her. … But she has a will of her own. She left. And I haven’t been able to get her back. I’ve been to that store I don’t know how many times. Then I heard Molly had met Darnell—one of the Flag girls, Elsie Roberts, told me. And she went to a dance with him. I——”

  “Molly went to a dance with this Darnell?”

  “Yes, she did. But, Jim, you mustn’t hold it against her,” entreated Gloriana. “She’s only a child. I went right downtown and told Molly who and what Darnell was. She didn’t believe me. Darnell is attractive and smooth. She doesn’t care a rap for him, because she worships you, Jim. But in her present state of mind she’d do anything. And Darnell is dangerous and unscrupulous. If I had not been pretty wise—despite my infatuation—he’d have ruined me. You mustn’t lose any time getting Molly out of his clutches.”

  “My God! … Do I want her?” groaned Jim, dropping his head.

  “Yes, you want her. So do I. And so does Uncle Jim. Molly is a treasure. No matter what she does, you must stand it, bear with her, and get her back.”

  Jim raised his head to kiss Gloriana gratefully. “Thanks, Glory. You couldn’t have said anything that would mean so much to me. I love that kid. It’d kill me to lose her. … But Uncle Jim bucked me up, and now so have you. … Here’s her engagement ring. Isn’t it a beauty?”

  Gloriana looked at the jewel with eyes that sparkled like it.

  “She wouldn’t be human if that didn’t fetch her. … But, Jim, Molly is Western. Diamonds might mean nothing at all to her. Still, I know she loves pretty clothes. She told me she went in debt for a new dress to wear at the Christmas dance.”

  “Molly certainly must be human and wholly feminine,” said Jim, with a tinge of bitterness. “In love with me last month—engaged to me. Now she’s going to a dance with another fellow. I call it pretty raw.”

  “She wrote you—begged Uncle Jim to send it by a rider. But Uncle wouldn’t do it. … And Molly is just wild with regret and pain and wounded love. Any girl is in peril under a mood of that kind. She wants the town people to believe she’s no good, so that they can’t think she jilted you. It’s a sad little story, Jim. But now you’re here it will be all right. I know it, Jim, unless you’re an utter jealous fool. Trust me. I know girls. Molly only needs to learn that you do love her for herself and that neither you, nor I, nor anyone could be ashamed of her—to be the sweetest and happiest girl in the world. That’s your job, brother mine. And it beats building the drift fence.”

  “Glory, I can prove it—with you and Uncle to help. Gosh! I feel as if a mountain had been lifted off my heart. … Now what festivities are in order for the holidays?”

  “Oh, Flag is quite a social place,” laughed Gloriana. “But the dance Christmas Eve, and the party here on the following Wednesday night, are the outstanding events. Uncle is giving that for Molly. She, of course, thinks it’s off because she left. But Uncle says no. Wait till Jim comes.”

  “It’s not off, Glory,” declared Jim, grimly. “Molly will be here if I have to pack her.”

  “Romantic, to say the least,” replied Gloriana, with a trill of laughter. “I approve. … And now, Jim, tell me about Slinger and Curly. And don’t forget Bud. He’s a dear.”

  “Your Three Guardsmen, eh?” rejoined Jim, dryly. “They’ve managed to live together without actual murder. Slinger looks at his rivals and listens in silent contempt, as down upon lesser men who did not share his secret of power.”

  Because of the whiteness of Gloriana’s face even a little wave of color appeared a startling blush.

  “Do they talk about me, among themselves?” she asked, a little confused.

  “For three weeks you have shared conversation honors with the Hash Knife.”

  “How flattering! And what do they say?”

  “I’ve forgotten most of it. At first I got kind of sore. They talked right out before me, with the utmost candor. They were all going to marry you, I gathered. To be sure, murder must be committed. It was funny. You should have been around to listen.”

  “They are the most amusing fellows—just fascinating to me.”

  “So I’ve gathered. Well, dearest, out West you reap as you sow. … One day I came back to camp and found Bud with a bloody nose. Curly, his pard, his almost brother, had punched him for talking about your legs.”

  “Wha-at!” gasped Gloriana.

  “Sure. I ascertained that Bud said you had pretty legs and you knew it. Curly took that as an insult and bloodied Bud’s nose. When I got there Bud was nursing his nose and his wounded vanity. I thought it a good opportunity for an object lesson, so I pretended tremendous anger, when really I wanted to split with laughter. I threw Bud down on the grass, straddled him, and threatened to smash his face unless he recognized his offense, apologized, and took it back. Do you know, Glory, he couldn’t see any offense, although he apologized. But he swore it was true and he wouldn’t take it back. Then I conceived the idea of greater punishment for Bud by giving him away to you. He almost wept at this, begged me to beat him, said he could stand anything except you thinking Curly a hero and him a low-down skunk, or something.”

  “I—I don’t know what to say,” replied Gloriana, but it was plain to Jim that she wanted to laugh
.

  “Glory, I told you—gave you fair warning. If you flirt with these cowboys you must pay dearly for it. And of course you have flirted, if not intentionally, then some other way. It won’t do out here. These boys have hearts of gold. Every last one of them would die for you. They seem like some kind of inflammable tinder. So easy, cool, droll, yet underneath all fire. Curly Prentiss is the highest type of cowboy I know. He is a prince. All the same he’s a strutting, conceited jackass who needs a lesson. Bud is the best-hearted of the lot, honest as the day. He speaks right out what he thinks. A raw, crude, common sort of person to any superficial observer from the East, but to me, or Uncle Jim, or anyone who sees clearly, he’s a boy to love. The rest of the outfit trail along somewhat similarly, except Slinger Dunn. He’s not a cowboy. He’s a strange mixture of woodsman and Indian, of country boy and chivalrous gentleman. All the same, if I were you I’d be careful of what I said or did before him.”

  “I’m afraid it’s too late,” replied Gloriana, with gravity. “You took us to the hospital to see him. He had my picture under his pillow. Told me right out he’d gazed at it until he was terribly in love with me. That you had taken Molly from him and he was going to take me from you.”

  “Well, I’m a son-of-a-gun!” ejaculated Jim.

  “I should have squelched him at once,” admitted Gloriana. “But I didn’t. I didn’t take him seriously. Thought that was just Western. And at a dance here I’m afraid I made it worse. He——”

  “Glory, darling,” interrupted Jim, plaintively, “I don’t want to know any more. I’ve trouble of my own. I need your help—not to be staggered with your love affairs.”

  “Silly! My love affairs? The idea!” she retorted, but her cheeks were red.

  “But you can’t dodge them. I told you how to handle these cowboys. Did you listen? I should smile not.”

  “Misery loves company. We are in a mess, Jim. Only yours is serious. Molly is as stubborn as a mule. I forgot to tell you that some of the Flag girls became very friendly to me, but they snubbed poor Molly. That hurt her—and somehow she associates it with her relation to you and me.”