by Grey, Zane
"Truman Rock!--Are you thet there True Rock who figgered in gun-play hyar years ago?"
"Sorry I can't deny it, Preston."
"You rode fer Slagle--when he had his ranch down hyar below in the Pass? It was you who run down thet Hartwell rustlin' outfit?"
"I can't take all the credit. But I was there when it happened."
"Say, man, I've heerd aboot you all these years. Damn funny I didn't savvy who you were."
"It's been six years since I left here--and perhaps you heard some things not quite fair to me."
"Never heerd a word thet I'd hold against you. Come now, an' meet these hyar eleven other Prestons."
Mrs. Preston appeared a worthy mate for this virile cattleman. She was buxom and comely, fair like all of them.
"Ma, this is Trueman Rock, who's come to ride fer me," announced Preston. Then be presented Rock to Alice, a girl of 16, not by any means lacking the good looks that appeared to run in the family. Rock took instantly to the ragged, bare-footed, big-eyed children, Lucy and Burr; and signs were not wholly wanting that they were going to like him.
"Where's Thiry?" asked the rancher.
"She's ironin'," replied Alice.
"Wal, didn't she hyar me call?"
"Reckon she did, Pa, for you'd almost woke the daid," replied his wife, and going to the door of the second cabin she called, "Thiry, we've company, an Pa wants you."
Whereupon Thiry appeared in the door in a long blue apron that scarcely hid her graceful symmetry. Her sleeves were rolled up to the elbow of shapely arms. She came out reluctantly, with troubled eyes and a little frown. She had seen him through the window.
"Good afternoon, Miss Preston," greeted Trueman.
"Oh, it's Mr. Rock, our new grocery clerk," she responded. "How do you do! And aren't you lost way out here?"
"Hey Rock, what's thet about you bein' a grocery clerk? I reckoned I was hirin' a cowboy."
Whereupon Rock had to explain that he had been keening store for Sol Winter when Thiry happened in. Thiry did not share in the laughter.
"Thiry, he's goin' to handle the boys." said Preston.
"You are a--a cowboy, then," she said to Rock, struggling to hide confusion or concern. "You don't know the job you've undertaken. What did my brother Ash say? I saw you talking with him."
"He was telling me your dad would sure give me a job--and that you'd be glad," replied Trueman, with disarming assurance.
"Yes, he was," retorted Thiry, blushing at the general laugh.
"You're right, Miss Preston," returned Rock ruefully. "Your brother was not--well, quite taken with my visit. He told me you didn't see every rider who came along. And that your father was not home. And that--"
"We apologize for Ash's rudeness," interposed Thiry hurriedly. She had not been able to meet Rock's gaze.
"Never mind, Rock. It's nothin' to be hurt about," added Preston. "Ash is a queer, unsociable fellar. But you're shore welcome to the rest of us. Thiry, if you never heard of True Rock, I want to tell you he's been one of the greatest riders of this range. An' I need him bad, in more ways than one."
"Oh, Dad, I--I didn't mean--I--of course I'm glad if you are," she returned hurriedly. "Please excuse me now. I've so much work."
Somehow Trueman divined that she was not glad; or if she were, it was owing to her father's need, and then it was not whole-hearted. But the youngsters saved him. They sidled over to him and began to ply him with questions about the white horse.
"What do you call him?" asked Burr.
"Well, the fact is I haven't named him yet," replied Rock.
"Can you think of a good one? What do you say, Lucy?"
"I like what Thiry calls him," she said, shyly. "Egypt. Isn't that just grand?"
"Egypt?--Oh, I see. Because he's like one of the white stallions of the Arabians. I think it's pretty good. Well call him Egypt."
"That'll tickle Thiry," cried the child joyously.
"Come; Rock, let me show you the ranch," called Preston, drawing Rock away. "When we first come hyar, aboot five years ago, Slagle, as you know, lived down below. He wouldn't sell, an' he swore this divide was on his land. But it wasn't, because he'd homesteaded a hundred an' sixty acres, an' his land didn't come half-way up. Wal, we throwed up a big cabin, an' we all lived in it for a while. 'Next I tore thet cabin down an' built the double one, an' this one hyar, which Ash has to himself. He won't sleep with nobody. Lately we throwed up four more, an' now we're shore comfortable."
The little cabin over by the creek under the largest of the pines was occupied by Alice and Thiry.
The grassy divide sloped gradually to the west, and down below the level were the corrals and barns and open sheds, substantial and well built. Rock found his white horse in one of the corrals, surrounded by three lanky youths from 16 to 20 years old. Preston introduced them as the inseparable three, Tom, Albert, and Harry. They had the Preston fairness, and Torn and Harry were twins.
"Rock, if you can tell which is Tom an' which is Harry, you'll do more'n anyone outside the family."
"Son-of-a-gun if I can tell now, lookin' right at them," ejaculated Rock.
The barns were stuffed full of hay and fodder. A huge bin showed a reserve of last year's corn. Wagons and harnesses were new; a row of saddles hung opposite a dozen stalls, where the Prestons no doubt kept their best horses. But these were empty now.
"Preston, if I owned this ranch I'd never leave it a single day," was Rock's eloquent encomium.
"Wal, I'd shore hate to leave it myself," returned the other tersely.
"How many cattle have you?"
"Don't have much idee. Ten thousand haid, Ash says. We run three herds, the small one down on the Flats, another hyar in the Pass, an' the third an' big herd up in the Foothills."
"Naturally the third means the big job," said Rock.
"Shore will be Tor you boys. Thar's a lot of cattle over there thet ain't mine. Ash said eighty thousand haid all told in the Foothills. But thet's his exaggerated figurin'."
"Gee! So many? Who's in on that range beside you?"
"Wal, thar's several heavy owners, like Dabb, Lincoln, Hesbitt, an' then a slew of others, from homesteaders like Slagle an' Pringle to two-bit cowpuncher rustlers. It's sort of a bad mess over thar. An' some of the outfits haven't no use fer mine."
"Ha! That's old cowboy breed. You can't ever change it. I know Lincoln. But Hesbitt is a new one on me."
"Yes, he came in soon after me," replied Preston shortly.
"Sol Winter told me you'd worked a new wrinkle on the range," went on Rock matter-of-factly. "Wholesale butcherin'."
"Yes. Hyar in this country I first set in killin' an' sellin' to local butchers. Then I got to shippin' beef to other towns not far along the railroad. An' all told I've made it pay a little better than sellin' on the hoof."
"Reckon it's a heap harder work."
"We Prestons ain't afraid of work," said the rancher. "But it takes some managin' as well. I made a slaughter-house out of Slagle's place, an' then we do some butcherin' out on the range."
"What stumps me, Preston, is how you get beef to town in any quantity," responded Rock.
"Easy for Missourians on these hard roads. We got big wagons an' four-hoss teams. In hot summer we drive at night. Wal, you'll want to unpack an' wash up fer supper."
It was just sunset when Rock came out of the cabin assigned him. Sitting down on the stone steps of the porch, he found there was an open place between the trees permitting unbroken view of the Pass.
A bell called Rock to supper. When he reached the cabin, to find the Preston boys straddling the benches, it was to be accosted by the rancher.
"Reckon we can eat now," added Preston. "Set down Rock, an' pitch in."
The long table was bountifully spread, steaming, savoury. Mrs. Preston sat at the foot. Alice's place was next to Rock, and she most solicitously served him.
When supper ended, dusk had just fallen. Rock sat on the edge of the porch, attended by the ch
ildren. The older sons stalked away while the younger lingered, evidently accepting the newcomer.
Before the hour passed Mrs. Preston and Alice came out, and Thiry, too, and they all sat around on the porch and grass enjoying the cool breeze coming up the Pass. The moon shone bright.
Preston retired within his cabin, and soon after the boys slouched away. Trueman rose to say good night.
Thiry had been standing some moments, in the shadow of the cabin.
"Mr Rock, would you like to walk with me to my cabin?" she asked.
"Why--pleased, I'm sure," replied Rock, haltingly, scarce able to conceal his joy. Good nights were exchanged, and Rock found himself walking away in the shadowed moonlight, with Thiry beside him.
Chapter 5
The girl confronted Trueman, and her face had the sheen of the moonlight, her eyes the darkness and mystery of the shade.
"Mr. Rock, I want to talk to you," she said, very quietly.
"Yes?" rejoined Trueman.
"Have you been--wholly honest in coming out here to Sunset Pass?"
"Honest! What do you mean?" flashed Rock, his pride cut.
"What did you tell father?"
"I asked fora job."
"Did you let him believe the job was your sole reason for coming?"
"No. He said I hadn't been long in trailin' you up. I didn't deny it. I laughed and agreed with him.
"Oh--you did!" she exclaimed, somehow shaken out of her reserve. "That's different. I apologize. I thought you'd deceived Dad--the same as so many riders have done.
"Mr. Rock, please don't misunderstand," she said, looking up.
"I was far from being offended that day in the store and at the corral. At the last, there, you meant you'd see me again. And you've done it. Now we're concerned with that."
"Reckon I might have waited a decent little while," responded Rock. "But I never met a girl like you. I wanted to see you again--soon. Where's the harm?"
"Indeed there isn't any halm in it, Mr. Rock, but harm can come from it."
"How?"
"Through my brother, Ash."
"Well, that's not hard to believe," rejoined Rock, with sharpness. "The other day he was a drunken, vulgar lout. Today, when he was sober, he was cold, mean, vicious. He had no hospitality of the West--no idea what was due a tired and hungry stranger. In my day on the range I've met some--"
Trueman bit his tongue. The girl had suddenly covered her face with her hands.
"Aw, Miss Preston, forgive me," he burst out. "I spoke out quick, without thinkin'--"
She drew her hands away and lifted her head. "You're quite right--Mr. Rock," she said unsteadily. "Ash is--all that you say. To my shame I confess it. All my life I've made excuses for him. It's no use. I--I cannot do it any more. But that's not the point."
Rock sat down beside her, his anger flown. "I know. The point was the harm that might come through Ash. Please be frank with me. If I've brought this distress upon you I'm entitled to know why."
"I've always been very--very fond of Ash," she said tremulously, struggling for composure. "Partly because he was always so bad--and I seemed the only one who could influence him for good. Ash cares for nothing but me. He hates men--he hates horses--he hates cattle. I--I've stuck to him until now. I--I--Mr. Rock, I can't tell you."
"Spare yourself, Miss Preston," returned Rock impulsively. "It's wonderful--beautiful of you. I admire and respect you for it. But I can't understand."
"I would dare tell you, but would only make this unfortunate situation worse. I only hint of it because it's not fair to let You think we--or I--dislike you."
"Oh, then you don't?"
"No. I--I think I really like you, though it's such short notice. And Mr. Rock, if I had my way, I'd like to be friends with you."
"Thank you, Miss Thiry," he returned gratefully, swayed by her unexpected avowal. "Honest, I didn't hope for so much. All I wanted was a chance to prove I could deserve you--your friendship."
"I--I dare say you could," she returned, looking away. "But the thing is I can't be friends with you."
"Because of Ash?"
"Yes. He will not let any boy or man be friends with me--at least out here at Sunset. Cowboys have called on me here and many have come to ride for Dad. Ash soon got rid of them."
"I wonder how he did all that. I know cowboys well, where a pretty girl is concerned.. And I'm just curious."
"I'll tell you. He's lied. He'd coolly invite them to leave. He'd bluff. He'd threaten. He'd cripple and shoot their horses. Oh, that was the vilest thing! He'd get them drunk while on guard--which Dad couldn't forgive. He'd ridicule any sensitive cowboy before the outfit--so terribly that the poor fellow would leave. He'd concoct devilish schemes to make a cowboy seem negligent or crooked. And as a last resource he'd pick fights. Then worst of all--he has thrown his gun on more than one."
"How very interestin'! Yet you love him!" ejaculated Rock bitterly.
"I do--more because I seem the only one. But it's not so much that. I've kept him from going to the bad.".
"How could he be any worse?"
"Oh, he could be. You can't understand. But I do."
"Miss Thiry, have you been so vastly concerned for the good health of all these poor lovesick cowboys as you seem about mine?" asked Rock.
"You are sarcastic again. Yes, I was concerned--worried about these boys. But I've never been so--so scared as I am over your coming."
"Scared for me?"
"Yes. I can't lie to you. I'm scared because of the--the harm that may come--if you stay."
"What is the reason you want me to run off like a coward?"
"I've been trying to tell you," she replied. "But I don't want you to be a coward. I'd think it brave, generous to help me. I told you and I tell you again, harm, terrible harm, might come of this, if you stay. Ash will not try any of his tricks on you. For you are different. Why, my Dad said to me, not an hour ago: 'There, lass, is a cowboy whose face Ash won't rub in the dirt. An' he won't be throwin' guns around so careless. True Rock is a different kind of a hombre from all those Ash has stacked up against.' I was thunderstruck. It seemed almost as if Dad was glad. I never heard him speak like that."
She was in the grip of some strong emotion now, beautiful and soul moving to Rock. "You wouldn't stay here--with--us--and--and leave me alone?" she asked, with a simplicity wholly free of vanity.
"Yes, I might--if you cut me cold or slammed the door in my face."
"That I couldn't do. If you stay on, living here and eating at our table, I could not help but talk to you, be with you some. I think it would be nice--if Ash wasn't around. I--I'm afraid I might like you. Now, if you stayed--you'd--you'd--"
"Yes, Miss Thiry, I would," he returned swiftly. "I would be a very great, deal worse than any cowboy you ever knew."
"So--you see," she said, entreatingly. "Then you and Ash would fight over me. First with fists, probably like, a couple of beasts. Then with guns! Oh, that's the horror of it--there would be blood spilled. He might kill you. But most likely you would kill him."
"I'll just make up my mind I won't fight. I'll keep out of his way. I'll do anythin' for you."
"But you've only seen me once!"
"I'm not committin' myself yet. But I'm afraid, if seein' you the other day wasn't enough, this time is."
"Oh, please go away to-morrow--before it's too late," she implored. "You're so sharp--so keen. You'll-" Suddenly in her agitation, she jerked a hand to her lips, as if to silence them. Her eyes dilated. She stared up at Rock like a child who had almost betrayed herself.
Rock had intuition enough to grasp that part of Thiry's fear, perhaps the greater, was not due to the inevitable clash between him and Ash. She was afraid he would find out something.
"Afraid of me," he ejaculated hurriedly. "Why, Thiry--Miss Thiry, that's absurd! Right this minute I'm the best friend you have in the world."
"Then prove it," she said, bending closer. "Go away tomorrow."
"And never
see you again?"
"It would be best," she returned, and, looked away. "But perhaps I--we might meet in town. I'm going in over the Fourth. Mrs. Dabb is to give a dance. I could see you there. I--I'll go with you--if you ask me."
"Don't bribe me to run off from Sunset Pass," he said. "But thank you for sayin' you'd go with me. I'd like to. I'd almost give my head to take you to a dance."
"Please, Mr. Rock, go away tomorrow before trouble comes. I'll never be able to thank you enough. It's the only chance you have to be my--my friend."
"You're a queer, wonderful girl," he replied, puzzled and sad.
"I will come to town oftener--then," she almost whispered.
"You'd meet me in town and hope to deceive Ash?"
"Yes. I--I'll try," she faltered.
"But he'd find it out. Then he would have a real case against me. He'd hunt me down, force me to meet him."
"Oh!"
"If I give in to you and leave Sunset Pass, I'd never willingly see you again," he went on, with more bitterness.
"Mr. Rock, that wouldn't be such a--a loss to you as you imagine now," she answered.
"I don't know. All I know is that I hate to refuse you anythin'. Listen. There's two sides to this deal, and here's mine." He leaned close so that he could see her better in the pale shadow. "I want you to know about me. For sixteen years I've lived the life of a wanderin', ridin', drinkin', fightin' cowboy. I stuck here on this range longest of all. I don't say I was bad, but I wasn't much good. I was always gettin' in trouble for other people. That's how I came to shoot Pickins. It was a good riddance. But the sheriff then--Cass Seward--was a friend of Picking's. I didn't want to kill Seward, so I left Wagontongue. I stayed away six years, then had to come back. I got there the day I met you. Found out Seward was gone. Found out a lot of other things. I wanted to know about my old girls.
"I had always been crazy over pretty girls. Sol Winter told me a lot of bad news about the girls--and about his son Nick. So I lost my happy mood. I wanted to go out and get drunk. Sol asked me to keep store for him. And I sat there sinkin' into one of the old black spells that had kept me from makin' someone out of myself. Then you walked into that store. And somethin' happened. I don't know yet what it was. But it was wonderful. It's been such a tearin', changin' somethin' that I don't know myself. I'm findin' out little by little. Seein' you this second time has helped a lot. I'll make a clean breast of all--soon as I know. But right now I know--if you don't turn your back on me--I'll never drink again. Or hunt for a fight! Or waste my time and money!"
