by Grey, Zane
"'It won't last over the Fourth,' he said. 'Long as I got plenty an' can sell cheap to the Mexicans an' lumbermen, it shore goes fast. Wagontongue will soon stand another butcher shop, Sol, an' any time you want to talk business with me I'm ready.'
"'I'll think it over, Jackson,' I said. 'But where'll we get the meat? Reckon we couldn't cut in on Dabb's supply?'
"'No, we can't,' he told me, 'but Preston is killin' now altogether instead of sellin' any more on the hoof. He's gettin' thirty dollars more by killin, on each head of stock. He'll sell to anybody. Today he shipped thirty-six beeves. Driscoll told me. Shipped them to Marigold.'"
"Thirty-six!" muttered Rock, with unreadable face and voice.
"Yep. An' I counted ten beeves hangin' up on Jackson's hooks. All fresh. So that makes forty-six. What you want to know all this for?"
"Gee Sol, you're a gabby old lady!" returned Rock. "I was just askin', because you and I might go into the meat business. And say, who runs the Half Moon brand?"
"New cattleman named Hesbitt," replied Winter. "He's been on the range over two years. They say he hails from Wyomin', has got lots of money, an' runs a hard outfit. Clink Peeples is foreman. You ought to know him, Rock."
"Clink Peeples. By gum! that sounds familiar. What does he look like, Sol?"
"Unusual tall puncher. Sandy-complected. Eyes sharp like a hawk's, but tawny. Somethin' of a dandy, leastways in town. Always wears a red scarf. An' he's one of the gun-packin' fraternity. Clink will be in town shore over the Fourth."
"Red scarf? Ahum!" said Rock. "Well, Sol, I'll run along, and drop in again."
Reaching Dabb's new store, Rock hunted up the suit department. It chanced that there was in stock a black broadcloth suit, with frock coat, which might have been made for him, so well did it fit. Rock purchased it and an embroidered vest of fancy design, a white shirt with ruffles in the bosom, a wide white collar and a black flowing bow tie to go with it. Lastly he bought shiny leather shoes, rather light and soft, which augured well for dancing. Not forgetting a mask, he asked for a plain black one. None of any kind was available.
Rock carried his possessions back to the hotel. While in his room he cut a pattern of a mask out of paper, and taking this back to the store he bought a piece of black cloth and fashioned it after the pattern he had cut.
After supper the hotel man, Clark, got hold of him and in a genial way tried to pump him about the Prestons. Rock did not commit himself. Then who but Jess Slagle stamped into the hotel lobby, in his rough range garb.
Slagle had been trifling with the bottle, but he was not by any means drunk. He was, however, under the influence of rum, and his happened to be a disposition adversely affected by it. "Howdy, than Sunset Pass puncher!" he said, loud and leering.
"Hello, Jess! How are you? I called on the way in."
"Left home yesterday. Stayin' till after the fireworks. Are you goin' back to Preston?"
"Why, certainly! Like my new job fine," responded Rock. "I'm sort of a foreman over the younger Prestons."
"Rock, it was a hell of a good bet that Gage Preston would never put you to butcherin'. Want a drink with me?"
"No, thanks. I've sworn off," replied Rock shortly, and he went out to walk in the darkness. Slagle's remarks were trenchant with meaning. Slagle, of course, hated Preston, and naturally would be prone to cast slurs. But would he make two-sided remarks like that, just out of rancour? It would go severely with him if one of them ever came to Preston's ears. And rattlesnake Ash Preston would strike at less than that.
Rock strolled to and fro between the hotel lights and those on the corner.
As he came into the yellow flare of light, a hand, small, eager and strong, seized his arm, and a feminine voice he knew rang under his ear. "True Rock, I've been on your trail all afternoon."
Rock stared down into the piquant flushed face of his old sweetheart, Amy Wund.
"Now I've got you and I'm going to hang on to you," she said, with a roguishness that did not conceal a firm determination.
"Why--how do--Mrs. Dabb? You sure--"
"Oh, Mrs. Dabb," she interrupted, flashing dark passionate eyes at him. "Call me Amy, can't you? What's the sense of being so formal? You used to call me 'darling Amy.'"
There was no gainsaying that. "Well, good evenin', Amy," he drawled. "I've forgotten what I used to call you. Reckon it's not just good taste for you to remind me."
"Perhaps not, True. But you make me furious. Let's get out of the light. I've got to talk to you." Pressing his arm tight she hurried him down the dark street.
"Amy, listen to sense. Oughtn't you be home?" asked Rock gravely.
"Sense from True Rock? Ye gods! When I was sixteen you made me meet you out, at night, because my father wouldn't let you come to our house," she retorted.
"That's so, Amy. I guess I was no good. But I've learned a little in all these years--at least enough to consider a woman's name."
"Thank you. I believe you have. And it's not true you were no good. Now about my being at home. I suppose I ought to be there. But it's an empty home, Trueman. I am alone most of the time. John has men come there to drink and play cards and talk business. He objects to my friends. He is as jealous as the devil. Just a selfish rich old man!"
"Aw, too bad, Amy," replied Rock, deeply touched: "You never should have married Dabb."
"Father was in debt to John and I had to foot that bill, True," she returned bitterly. "But I didn't waylay you to talk about myself. Did you get the invitation to my dance?"
"I did. Many thanks, Amy. It was good of you."
"Trueman, I'd like you to come for several reasons. First for old times' sake. Then because certain of my friends say you won't come. Next because--well, True, I've been a darned fool. I've gone--a--little too far with a certain cowboy. And I'm afraid of him. He's coming to my dance. And I thought--if you were there--I'd not be afraid, anyhow."
"Who is he, Amy?"
"I don't know his real first name, His last is Peeples. Clink they call him."
"Clink Peeples. I've sure heard of him. Rides for this new rancher, Hesbitt."
"Yes. And Hesbitt--"
"One thing at a time, Amy. Is this the last reason you have for wanting me at that dance?"
"No, Trueman, there's another. A woman's reason, and therefore the most important."
"What is it?"
"I won't tell you."
"Very well, I reckon your third reason is enough to fetch me. I'll come."
"Oh, thank you, Trueman," she replied in delight, squeezing his hand. "You always were the dearest, kindest fellow when anyone was in trouble. Trueman, you could steady me. God knows I need it."
"Don't talk nonsense," he returned sharply. "Amy, will you consent to my callin' on your husband?"
"You want to see John?" she queried, astounded, her eyes opening wide. "What on earth for? All right, go ahead. You have my consent. Tell him anything you want, except I was once in love with you and that it's not utterly impossible for me to be so foolish again."
"I'll take good care you don't do that," he laughed.
"Truman, I have something more to say," she said, hesitatingly. "I think you'd better quit riding for the Prestons."
"Why?" he inquired, freezing a little.
"I'm afraid I can't explain what may be only my intuition. But I believe the Prestons are going to get more than the ill will of the range."
"That's a strong statement, Amy. On what do you base it?"
"True, I can't trace it down. But it must come from many little bits of gossip I've heard. Some of it, by the way, from Peeples. Everyone knows, of course, that you took the job to be near Thiry Preston. It's a joke already. That's your side of it. Trueman, you have a reputation. Oh, I don't mean as a gunslinger. That's old. Nor do I mean as a great rider, roper, and all such cowboy qualities. It's that you're true blue, honest, a man of your word. I could tell you a lot of things, if I could remember. One is--Clink Peeples said he reckoned Gage Preston would profit
by your honest name. Isn't that a queer remark, Trueman?"
"It is--a little," Rock admitted.
"And here's another--more of a stumper," went on Amy. "Last night John had some men out to the house. They talked and smoked. When I heard your name I listened. Someone, I think Mr. Hesbitt, answered whoever had used your name first. 'I don't know this great cowboy Rock,' he said. But if he stays on ridin' for Preston, I'll not share the opinion you men have of him.' Trueman, there's something wrong about this Preston outfit. There's an undercurrent of feeling against them. It'll spread, if there's any reason for it. And then you'd be dragged in. True, will you leave Preston? Please! You can get three times the money."
"No. I'll stick, Amy. If there's anythin' in these hints I reckon the Prestons need me all the more."
She did not speak again for several blocks. She held his arm closely. Rock did not have anything to say.
"True, I like you better than I used to," she said softly. "What will you wear at my masquerade?"
"Look here, little lady, that's not fair. I won't tell you."
"You must. I'll never be able to recognize you. I remember how clever you used to be. The unmasking will not take place until dinner. That'll be late, Trueman. And I'll want to know you, in case I need you. You may have to throw Clink Peeples out."
"So the honour of protectin' you falls to me," laughed Rock. "I've half a mind you're lyin'. But I'll stifle my suspicions. Amy, I've bought a dandy broadcloth frock suit, black. Also a fancy vest, shirt with ruffles, flowin' black tie and black mask I'll come as a flash gambler."
"You'll look grand. Bet you make more than one heart ache," she returned, with a glance of mischief and regret.
Next morning about eleven o'clock, Rack strolled out of the hotel on his way to see John Dabb. He was shown into that individual's private office, and walked into a richly furnished room, where two men sat smoking.
"Howdy, Mr. Dabb!" said Rock, easily. "Reckon you know me."
"Trueman Rock!" exclaimed Dabb in great surprise. "Hesbitt, this is True Rock, one of the real riders we used to have. Rock, shake hands with Hesbitt, one of our new ranchers."
Hesbitt bowed stiffly and spoke without offering his hand.
Rock looked squarely at him. "Glad to meet you, Mr. Hesbitt."
"Well, Rock, to what am I indebted for this call?" queried Dabb.
"Remains to be seen whether you'll be indebted to me or not. Reckon that's up to you," replied Rock. "Mr. Hesbitt, I heard this mornin' that your foreman Peeples was in town wantin' to see me.
"Yes, he got in early, and I believe does want to look you up."
"Reckon he can't be particular eager," drawled Rock. "I've been up and down street, and in and out of the hotel all mornin'--lookin' for Mr. Peeples."
"Ah! I see. I dare say he's very busy buyin' supplies," replied Hesbitt, nervously. "May I inquire--er--what you want of my foreman?"
"Nothin' so important--that is, to me," said Rock. "I just wanted to give Peeples opportunity to meet me. And to tell him somethin'."
"What?" asked Hesbitt, whose sallow face slightly paled.
"Reckon I'd sure like you to know as well. I just want to give you a hunch. Not till two days ago did I ever hear of the Half Moon brand. And not till yesterday did I learn what outfit ran it."
Manifestly Rock's cold, biting speech impressed Hesbitt, but scarcely to the acceptance of its content. He picked up his hat from the desk. "Dabb, your former cowboy's talk is queer, if true," he said curtly. "I'll leave you to renew old acquaintance. Good day."
"Hesbitt, you're new to this range," rejoined Dabb, a little caustic. "I've told you! before. And your Wyoming cowboy foreman needs to be told--or he'll get into trouble. This is not Wyoming. I'm bound to tell you that Rock's talk is not queer. I'll gamble it's true. I never knew him to lie. And no old rider or cattleman on this range would say it, even if he thought it."
Hesbitt bowed and went out, jarring the door.
Dabb bit viciously at his cigar. "Some of these new cowmen make me sick. Rock, help yourself to a smoke and sit down."
"Dabb, I sure appreciate what you said to him about me," replied Rock. "Fact is I'm surprised, too. I'd been told you had no use for me."
"Rock, that's not the point," returned Dabb quickly. "When I knew you were honest, I was bound to say so. Your connection with Preston has started rumours. Hesbitt has been losing more stock than any of us. His outfit is a hard-nut bunch from Wyoming. They think you're--well. I don't want to repeat gossip. But whether or not I have any use for you I'd sure need to see proof of your dishonesty."
"That's straight talk. I like it and thank you. Dabb, did I ever do you any dirt?"
"You quit me, left me in the lurch," replied Dabb testily.
"But be fair, at least," responded Rock earnestly. "I had to leave quick--or kill another man, and one generally liked here, Cass Seward."
"You may have thought so. Cass told me once you didn't need to run off. He could have fixed it up. Arrested you--and let you off. It was an even break, you knew. Anyway, I know everybody was glad you bumped that fellow off."
"Ahuh! I'm sorry I didn't know that," said Rock. Then he shook off dark thoughts. "Dabb, did you have anythin' else against me?"
The rancher thrummed on ins desk while revolving this query.
"Look me straight in the eye," went on Rock. "Man to man, Dabb. If you have cards on me lay them down. I'm comin' clean honest--and a lot might depend on you doin' the same."
"All right, Rock, I'll meet you," replied Dabb, flushing darkly. "Straight out then. I've sort of held against you--that old affair of yours and Amy's."
"Good!" exclaimed Rock, cracking a fist in his palm. "That's just what I wanted you to admit. The old women gossips gave Amy the worst of that affair. She was pretty and vain--and had a way with the boys. But she was good and if they ever said otherwise they lied. I was in love with Amy. Perhaps a little more so than I was with two other girls. But what I want to make clear to you Dabb, is that Amy was never serious about me. I mean never in love as it was in her to be. And I'm satisfied that she never has been yet. Even with you--her husband. You'll excuse me, Dabb, but this is blunt straight talk."
"It is, by God! And to what end, Rock?"
"Amy's happiness," flashed Rock "I met Amy the day I arrived in Wagontongue and again yesterday. Dabb, she'd scalp me alive if she ever found out I told you this. She's lonesome and unhappy. I don't believe Amy ever would have married you if she hadn't cared somethin' for you. But you've failed to win the best in her. Dabb, I don't suppose anyone ever dared to hit you this way. I don't care a damn how angry you get, if I can only make you see."
"You're makin' me see red, cowboy," replied Dabb hoarsely. "But go ahead. I've not the nerve to pull a gun on you."
"Dabb, I always had a hunch you weren't a bad fellow, under your skin. The range claimed you drove hard bargains, and the cowboys didn't exactly like you. Maybe that was justified. All the same as ranchers go, you sure were white. You're rich now. You don't have to eat, sleep, drink and smoke business. Pay some attention to your young and pretty wife! Take the girl away occasionally, to Kansas City or Denver. California in winter. And before long, old-timer, you'll be glad. If you don't do this, sure as I'm sittin' here, Amy is goin' to the bad. That's what I came to say and that's all." Rock ended abruptly.
Dabb writhed in his chair, fury and shame contested with the sense of fairness that seemed dragged out of his depths. "You are a--queer one--Rock," he stammered. "You've hit me where I live, and it hurts like sixty. But you talk like a man. And I'm not yet so set in my mind that I can't learn from any man. If the truth turns out as straight as your talk--well, young man, you're on parole till I find out. Now since you've presumed to advise me on a delicate matter, I'll retaliate. Quit Preston!"
"Why?" snapped Rock.
"You know the range, Rock. Some things just can't be said."
"Because they can't be proved."
"Exactly."
; "Well, Ill stick to Preston until these damned underhand rumours are proved--or until somebody suffers for startin' them."
"That may work out too late for you. I think I ought to tell you I've broken business relations with Preston last Friday."
"May I ask what were the business relations?"
"Preston had the small end of a cattle deal with me. I bought him out. And then I cancelled all beef orders."
"How did Preston take that?"
"Kicked about the cattle deal. But I took it he was relieved to get out of selling me more beef."
"Relieved--what you mean?"
"He just struck me that way. Didn't ask me why. I was glad. My reason was good, but I could scarcely divulge it to him."
"Mind tellin' me?"
"Yes. I'd mind. It would necessitate violating someone's confidence. You'll have to find out for yourself, Rock."
"Reckon so. By the way, Dabb, are you still head of the Territory Cattle Association?"
"No, I resigned. Nesbitt was recently elected."
"Gee! Sorry to hear it," returned Rock. "Good day, Dabb. Reckon I'll meet up with you at the rodeo and the dance."
In the afternoon, rather late, Rock walked round to see Winter.
"Hey, you been drinkin'?" expostulated Rock, holding his friend at arm's length.
"Nope. That is, not red liquor. But I shore been drinkin' in Thiry's sweet smiles an' words."
"Dog-gone! I didn't expect her till tomorrow."
"True, she has been in half a dozen times," went on Winter. "Asked for you every time!"
"Sol, you lyin' old geezer! My heart might stand her askin' once. But six times!"
"Son, mebbe it's not all gospel truth. When she first run in she was her old nice sweet cool self. Kissed me. Said she an' Alice were out at my house. She asked if I'd seen you. An' I told her I hadn't yet today, but thet you'd be in. An hour later she came in again, somehow different. She bought buntin'. She was helpin' Amy Dabb decorate the dance hall. Asked had I seen you yet, an' I said no. She went out an' pretty soon came back, a little more different She had a red spot in each cheek. An' so she came an' went, till the last time, a little while ago, when she was with Amy. Then you bet she didn't ask about you. True, shore as you're born, Amy had been fillin' poor Thiry full of guff about how wild you was over her, an' mebbe was yet."
