The Hash Knife Outfit

by Zane Grey

  “Life is orful hard fer a cowpuncher when he’s in love,” observed Bud. “Sky so blue an’ grass so green, flowers an’ birds, dance an’ holdin’ hands, an’ kisses sweeter’n ambergris—an’ jest round the corner bloody death lurkin’.”

  “What’s the idea, Curly?” asked Jim, quickly interested.

  “Boss, it’s a fine chance to get rid of Mister Darnell without involvin’ any of our lady friends, you know. Flag is such a hell of a place for gossip. An’ I reckon there’s shore enough right now.”

  “Get rid of Darnell!” ejaculated Jim, curiously.

  “Shore. I can set in thet game if I’ve a good-sized roll. Shore I’d flash it an’ let on I was a little drunk. Savvy? Wal, I can nail Darnell at his cheatin’ at cairds. If he pulls a gun—well an’ good. If not he’ll shore find Flag too hot a town in winter.”

  “Curly, it’s a grand idea, except the possibility of Darnell’s throwin’ a gun. I hardly believe he’d have the nerve. He’s an Easterner.”

  “We don’t know for shore,” said Curly. “He might even be from Texas.”

  “Aw, guff an’ nonsense!” burst out Bud. “Thet handsome white-mugged sharper won’t go fer a gun. But whatinhell’s the difference if he does? Save us the trouble of stringin’ him up to a cottonwood. … An’, Boss, an’ Curly, an’ all you galoots, thet’s what Darnell is slated fer. I seen it—I felt it. … Now I ask you, knowin’ how few my hunches are—do you recollect any of them far wrong? What’s more, Bambridge ain’t genuine Western. He’s too cock-sure. He reckons us all easy marks.”

  “Curly, I’ll dig up the money and go with you to Snell’s,” said Jim.

  The Diamond immediately voted upon a united presence at that occasion. Curly made no objection, provided they dropped in unobtrusively.

  “I heahed this poker game has been goin’ on most in the afternoons,” he said. “An’ course it’s kind of private—Snell’s is—an’ you may not get in. But don’t start a fight. Aboot four o’clock would be a good hour, Jim.”

  “How much money will you require?” queried Jim.

  “Wal, I ought to have a roll of greenbacks big enough to choke a cow, with a century as a wrapper. Shore I’ll have to flash this roll or they’d never let me set in. But you can gamble I won’t lose much of it.”

  “That makes it easier,” said Jim. “I can manage somehow. … Now, fellows, about this dance tonight. It’s at the hotel and the big bugs in town are back of it. No knock-down and drag-out cowboy dance. Savvy? … I—I tried to coax Molly not to go with this Darnell, but she’s stubborn. She’s going. And we can’t help it. I’m curious to see what comes off. Also a little worried about you boys. Anything up your sleeves?”

  “Nope. We’re layin’ low, Boss, honest Injun,” averred Bud.

  “Jim, I met Sue Henderson this afternoon,” spoke up Curly, “an’ she asked me if it was true that Molly wasn’t goin’ with you. Sue’s the biggest gossip in Flag, except her ma, so I tried to use my haid. I said yes it was true—that Molly an’ Jim had a tiff an’ she got mad an’ dished Jim fer this dance. Sue looked darned queer an’ asked me if that also applied to your engagement. I said Lord, no. But I didn’t convince Sue. I reckon it’s goin’ to look bad fer Molly.”

  “Serve her darn right,” said Slinger.

  “You see, Jim, Molly’s picked the quickest way to queer herself with Flag folks,” went on Curly. “But the crazy kid—she’s not smart enough to see that Darnell won’t queer himself with these Flag girls fer her. Shore as shootin’ Molly Dunn of the Cibeque will be a wallflower at the dance.”

  “But you boys—” began Jim, haltingly.

  “Shore we’ll cut her daid,” interrupted Curly, and his drawling voice had a steel ring. “Molly’s a darlin’, but she cain’t play didoes with the Diamond.”

  When Jim related this bit of conversation to Gloriana, after supper, he was amazed to note she did not show any surprise. He had been shocked at Curly’s ultimatum. Those loyal cowboys whom Molly could wind round her little finger! But this was only another proof to Jim how little he knew the cowboys and the West. Gloriana, with her feminine perspicacity, saw much more clearly than he.

  “It’ll be a good lesson, Jim,” said Glory. “If only Ed Darnell runs true to form!”

  “And what’s that?”

  “Molly is only pretty game for him. He’ll play with her, but he won’t champion her. He’s keen after Sue Henderson. All these Flag girls have regular beaus who take them to dances. Darnell couldn’t get any one except Molly. And you can bet he won’t dance exclusive attendance on her.”

  “I don’t like it, Glory,” returned Jim, moodily.

  “No wonder. It’ll be a beastly Christmas Eve for you, Jim. Small return for your affection and generosity. But life is like that. I’m sure, though, this dance will settle Molly’s hash, to be slangy, and work to your interest. … I think you’d better vamoose now, so I can dress.”

  “What are you going to wear, Glory?” asked Jim, with interest.

  “Well, it’s an occasion not to overlook. I want your town of Flag to see you have a sister you can be proud of, anyway.”

  “Good! Knock ’em dead, Glory. And that goes for the cowboys, too.”

  “I shall avail myself of the opportunity, to my utmost. … Jim, how are we to go? In that breezy buckboard?”

  “Yes; we have to. The snow’s ’most gone. But we might use the sleigh in a pinch.”

  “I’d like that, with the buffalo robe. And, Jim, don’t forget a couple of hot stones in a burlap sack. It’ll save me from pneumonia.”

  Jim ran into the living-room to have a word with his uncle before dressing.

  “Son, I’m goin’ to pass on this dance,” said the rancher, with a chuckle. “I reckon it wouldn’t be any fun for me. I’ll wait for Molly’s party hyar next Wednesday. An’ you see to it she’s back home by then.”

  “Uncle, I’ll do it or die.”

  “Fetch Glory in before you leave. I can stand havin’ my eye knocked out once more.”

  While Jim dressed his mind was active. If his cowboys and acquaintances snubbed Molly that night it might give him an opening for the wild plot he meant to carry out. And if Darnell played up to it as Gloriana had declared he would play—then the hour would be ripe for Jim’s coup. He had to choke down his shame, his resentment that he must resort to such means to recover his sweetheart. Whatever he was going to do must be done quickly, for Molly’s sake more than his.

  Molly’s room at the ranch-house had been kept precisely as she had left it. Jim went to the kitchen and gave the housekeeper instructions to light Molly’s lamps about midnight, to start a fire in the grate, and to be careful about the screen. Lastly Jim took from his closet the fur coat he had bought for Molly, and with this on his arm, and his own overcoat he made the stone-floored corridor ring with his footsteps. Gloriana’s room was dark, except for the flicker of wood fire behind the screen. Whereupon Jim hurried to the living-room.

  Glory stood in the bright flare of lamps and fire, her furs on the floor, and she was pivoting for the benefit of her uncle.

  Jim was not prepared for this vision of loveliness. Glory, in white gown with flounces of exquisite lace, and a hint of blue, her beautiful arms and neck bare, with a smile of pure joy on her face, and that dancing purple lightning in her eyes, was an apparition and a reality that sent the blood thrilling from Jim’s heart.

  “Glory, you look a little like your mother,” Uncle Jim was saying. “But I reckon, only a little. … Lass, I—I hope we Western folks are not too rough an’ plain to—to make you happy. It shore makes me happy, an’ almost young again, to look at you.”

  “Thank you, Uncle; that is a sweet compliment,” said Glory, and she stepped out of her furs to kiss him. “Don’t you worry about me and all my finery. It’ll wear out—and by that time I hope I’ll deserve to be happy in your great West.”

  It was late according to Western custom when Jim and Gloriana arrived at the ho
tel, and the lobby was crowded. Red and green decorations, upon which shone bright lights, lent the interior of the hotel the felicitous color of the season. Entrance to the dining-hall, from which emanated strains of Spanish music and the murmur of gay voices, was blocked by a crowd of lookers-on, some of whom surely had the lithe build of cowboys.

  Jim saw Gloriana to the wide stairway which led to the ladies’ dressing-room, and then went in search of his own. Curly and Bud were there, immaculate in dark suits and white shirts, which rendered them almost unrecognizable to Jim. Curly, particularly, looked handsome and clean-cut, and he did not appear uncomfortable, as did Bud. Slinger also showed up on Jim’s entrance, sleek and dark and impassive, as striking in his black suit as when he wore the deerskin of the forest.

  “Where’s the gang?” asked Jim.

  “Wal, they’re shore out there hoofin’ it. Up an’ Lonestar an’ Cherry an’ Jack all dug up gurls somewhere. Hump says he’s too crippled yet an’ will only look on.”

  “Boss, you oughta see the lady who came in on the arm of Jackson Way,” observed Bud. “Out-of-town gurl an’ she’ll run Molly close fer looks. Jack never seen us atall. Son-of-a-gun! We gotta get a dance with her.”

  “Sure. I’ll fit it, boys,” Jim assured them.

  “Jim, I see you’ve disobeyed Ring Locke’s orders,” drawled Curly, disapprovingly.

  “Curly, darn it, I couldn’t pack a gun with this rig,” complained Jim, designating the trim suit of black. “Where’d I wear that cannon you insist on my carrying?”

  “Wal, if you went slappin’ around me you’d shore hurt your hand. An’ if you watch me you’ll notice I don’t turn my back to nothin’.”

  Jim sighed. Almost he had forgotten the menace of the time and place.

  “I’ll risk it. And if Croak Malloy shows up I’ll dive somehow.”

  “Wherever you are you want to see Croak first,” returned Curly. “He’s not liable to show up heah, but he might. An’ to look fer him is the idea.”

  “Slinger, you’re going to dance?” asked Jim.

  “I shore ain’t hankerin’ to make a slidin’ fool of myself. But I promised this mawnin’, an’ I reckon I cain’t back out.”

  Curly looked rather fierce, and chewed at his cigarette, something unusual for the cool Texan.

  “Well, come on, you Diamond,” said Jim, at length. “Let’s go get Glory.”

  She was waiting for Jim on the stairway, queenly and beautiful, her great eyes brilliant with excitement and interest.

  “My Gawd! Curly, lemme hold on to you,” whispered Bud.

  Curly let out a little gasp, which was not lost on Jim, but Slinger showed no sign of being transfixed by Gloriana’s loveliness. She came down to meet them, with just a hint of eager gaiety, and apparently unconscious of the gaping crowd. After a moment of greeting Curly elbowed an entrance for the others into the colorful hall.

  “Pretty nifty, I’ll say,” observed Bud. “What do you think of the style Flag’s puttin’ on, since you come, Miss Glory?”

  “Very different from Jim’s letter descriptions of Western dance-halls,” laughed Gloriana. “I like this.”

  “Jim, hurry an’ dance with your sister so we can get a chanct,” added Bud, very business-like.

  “Say, don’t you gazabos fight over Glory or dance her off her feet,” replied Jim. “That happened last time. Glory came West to get well, and not to be buried. … Come on, Glory, see if boots and chaps have made me clumsy.”

  When he swung his sister out into the eddying throng of dancers she said: “Jim, I saw Molly in the dressing-room. Sue Henderson and her mother cut her dead. Mrs. Henderson, you know, is the leading social light of Flag. Molly looked wonderfully sweet and pretty in her new dress. But scared, and dazed in spite of her nerve. Jim, she won’t be able to carry it through. Darnell will fail her. Then your chance will come.”

  “Poor crazy kid!” choked Jim. “This’ll be a rotten night for her—and sure a tough one for me. … Glory, if it wasn’t for that, I’d be the proudest escort you ever had at any dance. Even as it is I just want to bust with pride. I’ll bet you Curly squeezed my arm black and blue, when he saw you on the stairs. And Bud whispered: ‘My Gawd! Curly, lemme hold on to you!’”

  “They are dears,” replied Gloriana, dreamily. “Only—just too much in earnest. … Slinger scares me.”

  “Well, enjoy yourself. These affairs are few and far between. … It ought to be a great night for you. All eyes are on you, Glory. … How terribly pretty you are!—Gosh! pretty isn’t the word. … And you dance like—like a dream. … Glory, dear, haven’t you wasted a good deal of your life doing this?”

  “Yes, I have, Jim,” she replied, regretfully.

  At the expiration of that waltz they were at the far end of the large room, and had to make their way through a whispering, staring crowd of dancers. Jim espied Jackson Way with a very pretty brunette girl. Jack tried to escape in the press, but Jim nailed him gaily, “Where you going, cowboy?” And so the blushing Jack and his fair damsel were captured and led across to Curly and Bud and Slinger.

  “Glory, I’ll leave you to the tender mercies of the Diamond,” said Jim, after there had been a pleasant interchange of introductions and some gay repartee. “But I’ll keep an eye on you. …”

  “Jim, there are Ed Darnell and Molly,” interrupted Gloriana, suddenly. Her voice had an icy edge.

  Before Jim glanced up he felt a jerk of his whole frame, as released blood swelled along his hot veins. He saw Molly first, and knew her, yet seemed not to know. As he met her dusky eyes, unnaturally large and bright, with almost a wild expression, his passion subsided. He smiled and bowed to her as if nothing untoward had happened. And it pleased him that Gloriana did likewise. The others of Jim’s company, however, pointedly snubbed Molly. Then Jim’s glance switched to Darnell. In this good-looking and elegant gentleman Jim scarcely recognized the man he had seen with Bambridge in the station at Winslow. At least that was a first impression, which had not the test of proximity or consistence; and he concluded it would be wiser to be deaf to his jealousy and await developments.

  That moment, however, was the beginning of a most miserable experience. Jim left Gloriana with the gathering group of young people, and strolled away on his vigil. His purpose was fixed and unalterable; his embarrassment and humiliation now actual pain; and not all of these states of mind could render him oblivious to his position there. He had only to make the rounds of the dance-hall, the corridors and lobby, to realize his status. His cowboys, and his other friends, and Flagerstown folk who were close to old Jim Traft, had shown and were still showing their contempt for Molly Dunn. These people represented the rather small élite of the Arizona town. A majority of those present, however, were made up of cowboys, and young men about town, all accompanied by the girls of their choice; and it was plain gossip had run rife among them, and they did not conceal their curiosity and satisfaction. Little Molly Dunn of the Cibeque, sister of the gun-thrower, and a plain girl of Arizona backwoods, had jilted the young Easterner, the favorite nephew of rich old Jim Traft. It was all as plain as print, and it grew so much plainer, as time progressed, that Jim might have been reading it through a microscope. There was only one good thing about the miserable situation, and that was that Molly Dunn could not fail to see the humiliation she had brought upon her lover.

  Jim danced with Sue Henderson, and two others of the Flagerstown girls who had been friendly to Gloriana, and it was an ordeal, for they were both sympathetic and vindictive. Common little hussy—Molly Dunn! And Jim had to resent that, and try to make excuses for Molly.

  Darnell did precisely what Gloriana had predicted. He neglected Molly for the girls of higher social standing, and it seemed to Jim that when Darnell grasped the significance of the situation he showed his true colors. He left Molly to the cowboys and the clerks. She danced and flirted wildly. She was too gay, too indifferent, and before long she broke and went to the other extreme. Jim watched her
sit out three dances alone, trying to hide in a corner. But Molly Dunn could not hide at that dance.

  Jim thought it was time to do something, and approaching Gloriana, who sat with Curly, he said, “Come on, you.” And he dragged them up.

  “You’re going to dance with Molly,” replied Gloriana, gladly. “It is high time.”

  “Yes, if she will. But, anyway, we can show this crowd where we stand.”

  As they approached Molly she appeared to shrink, all except her big dark eyes. Gloriana sat down beside her and said something nice about Molly’s new dress and how sweet she looked.

  “Molly, won’t you dance the next with me?” asked Jim.

  Curly gazed down upon her, his fair handsome face clouded, and his flashing blue eyes full of sorrow.

  “Molly Dunn, you’ve shore played hell heah tonight,” he said.

  Molly surely was ready to burst into tears when the music started again. Dancers from all sides rushed upon the floor, and Curly, with a gay call to Jim, drew Gloriana into the thick of the whirling throng. Jim did not wait for Molly’s consent; he took her hand, and pulled her to her feet and led her out into the maze. Then when he had her close and tight in his arms, he felt that he had surely understood himself.

  “Oh—Jim,” she whispered, “it’s been awful! … An’ the worst was when Glory came to me jest now—before them all—an’ spoke so sweet—as if nothin’ had happened. … Oh, I wanted the ground to open an’ swallow me.”

  Jim thought that a strange speech, full of contrition and shame as it was. What about him! But Gloriana had been the great factor in Molly’s downfall.

  “Glory is true blue, Molly,” Jim whispered back. “That ought to prove it. You’ve doubted her.”

  Jim felt a gradual relaxing of Molly’s stiff little hand, and then a sinking of her form against him.

  “I’m ashamed,” she replied, huskily. “I’ll go drown myself in the Cibeque.”

  “Yes, you will!” In the press of the throng it seemed to Jim that he had her alone and hidden safe from the inquisitive eyes. He could hug her without restraint and he did. Molly hid her dusky head on his shoulder and danced as one in a trance.