by Zane Grey
Upon the last of these trips, when he was some distance down the terrace and out of sight of camp, he heard a scream, and then the sharp barking of the dogs. For an instant he straightened up, amazed. Danger for her had been absolutely out of his mind. She had seen a rattlesnake-or a wildcat. Still she would not have been likely to scream at sight of either, and the barking of the dogs was ominous. Dropping his work, he dashed back along the terrace. Upon breaking through a clump of aspens, he descried the dark form of a man in camp. Cold, then hot, Venters burst into frenzied speed to reach his guns. He was cursing himself for a thoughtless fool when the tall form assumed familiar proportions, and almost immediately he recognized Lassiter. Then the reversal of emotions changed his run to a walk, but his voice refused to carry. When he reached camp, there was Lassiter staring at the white-faced girl. Ring and Whitie had recognized him.
"Hello, Venters, I'm makin' you a visit," said Lassiter slowly. "An' I'm some surprised to see you've a young feller for company."
One glance had sufficed for the keen rider to read Bess's real sex, and for once his cool calm had deserted him. He stared till the white of Bess's cheeks flared into crimson. That, if it was needed, was the concluding evidence of her femininity; for it went fittingly with her substantial sun-tinted hair and darkened, dilated eyes, the sweetness of her mouth, and the striking symmetry of her slender shape.
"Heavens! Lassiter!" panted Venters, when he caught his breath. "What relief... it's only you! How... in the name of all that's wonderful... did you ever get here?"
"I trailed you. We... I wanted to know where you was, if you had a safe place. So I trailed you."
"Trailed me!" cried Venters blankly.
"I reckon. It was some of a job after I got to them smooth rocks. I was all day trackin' you up to them little cut steps in the rock. The rest was easy."
"Where's your horse? I hope you hid him."
"I tied him in them queer cedars down on the slope. He can't be seen from the valley."
"That's good. Well, well, I'm completely dumbfounded. It was my idea no man could track me in here."
"I reckon. But if there's a tracker in these uplands as good as me, he can find you."
"That's bad. That'll worry me. But, Lassiter, now you're here, I'm glad to see you. And... and my companion here is not a young fellow. Bess, this is a friend of mine. He saved my life once."
The embarrassment of the moment did not extend to Lassiter. Almost at once his manner, as he shook hands with Bess, relieved Venters and put the girl at ease. After Venters's words and the quick look at Lassiter, her agitation stilled, and, although she was shy, if she were conscious of anything out of the ordinary in the situation, certainly she did not show it.
"I reckon I'll only stay a little while," Lassiter was saying. "An' if you don't mind troublin', I'm hungry. I fetched some biscuits along, but they're gone. Venters, this place is sure the wonderfulest I ever seen. Them cut steps on the slope! That outlet into the gorge! An' it's like climbin' up through hell into heaven to climb through that gorge into this valley! There's a queerlookin' rock at the top of the passage. I didn't have time to stop. I'm wonderin' how you ever found this place. It's sure interestin'."
During the preparation and eating of dinner, Lassiter listened mostly, as was his wont, and occasionally he spoke in his quaint and dry way. Venters noted, however, that the rider showed an increasing interest in Bess. He asked her no questions, and only directed his attention to her while she was occupied and had no opportunity to observe his scrutiny. It seemed to Venters that Lassiter grew more and more absorbed in his study of Bess, and that he lost his coolness in some strange, softening sympathy. Then, quite abruptly, he arose and announced the necessity for his early departure. He said good-bye to Bess in a voice gentle and somewhat broken, and turned hurriedly away. Venters accompanied him, and they had traversed the terrace, climbed the weathered slope, and passed under the stone bridge before either spoke again.
Then Lassiter put a great hand on Venters's shoulder and wheeled him to meet a smoldering fire of gray eyes.
"Lassiter! I couldn't tell Jane. I couldn't!" burst out Venters, reading his friend's mind. "I tried. But I couldn't bear to add more... the worst yet... to her burden. And I love the girl!"
"Venters, I reckon this beats me. I've seen some queer things in my time, too. This girl... who is she?"
"I don't know."
"Don't know! What is she, then?"
"I don't know that, either. Oh, it's the strangest, wildest story you ever heard. I must tell you. But you'll never believe."
"Venters, women was always puzzles to me. But for all that, if this girl ain't a child, an' as innocent, I'm no fit person to think of virtue an' goodness in anybody. Are you goin' to be square with her?"
"I am... so help me God!"
"I reckoned so. Mebbe my temper oughtn't have led me to make sure. But, man, she's a woman in all but years. She's sweeter'n the sage... more allurin' than a cedar fire."
"Lassiter, I know, I know. And the hell of it is that in spite of her innocence and charm she's... she's not what she seems!"
"I wouldn't want to... of course, I couldn't call you a liar, Venters," said the older man.
"What's more, she was Oldring's Masked Rider!"
Venters expected to floor his friend with that statement, but he was not in any way prepared for the shock his words gave. For an instant he was astounded to see Lassiter stunned, then his own passionate eagerness to unbosom himself, to tell the wonderful story, precluded any other thought.
"Son, tell me all about this," Lassiter said presently, as he seated himself on a stone and wiped his moist brow.
Thereupon, Venters began his narrative at the point where he had shot the rustler and Oldring's Masked Rider, and he rushed through it, telling all, not holding back even Bess's awkward avowal of her love, or his deepest emotions.
"That's the story," he said, concluding: "I love her, though I've never told her. If I did tell her, I'd be ready to marry her, and that seems impossible in this country. I'd be afraid to risk taking her anywhere. So I intend to do the best I can for her here."
"The longer I live, the stranger life becomes," mused Lassiter with downcast eyes. "I'm reminded of somethin' you once said to Jane about hands in her game of life. There's that unseen hand of power, an' Tull's black hand, an' my red one, an' your unfathomable one, an' the girl's little, brown, helpless one. An' Venters, there's another one that's all-wise an' all-wonderful. That's the hand guidin' Jane Withersteen's game of life! Your story's one to daze a far clearer head than mine. 1 can't offer no advice, even if you asked for it. Mebbe I can help you. Anyway I'll hold Oldrin' up when he comes to the village, an' find out about this girl. I knew the rustler years ago. He'll remember me."
"Lassiter, if I ever meet Oldring, I'll kill him!" cried Venters with sudden intensity.
"I reckon that'd be perfectly natural," replied the rider.
"Make him think Bess is dead... as she is to him, and that old life."
"Sure, sure, son. Cool down now. If you're goin' to begin pullin' a gun on Tull an' Oldrin', you want to be cool. I reckon, though, you'd better keep hid here. Well, I must be leavin'."
"One thing, Lassiter. You'll not tell Jane about Bess? Please don't!"
"I reckon not. But I wouldn't be afraid to bet that after she'd got over the jealous spell... Venters, she'd be hell-bent furious once in her life! She'd think more of you. I don't mind sayin' for myself that I think you're a good deal of a man."
In the farther ascent Venters halted several times with the intention of saying good-bye, yet he changed his mind, and kept on climbing till they reached Balancing Rock. Lassiter examined the large rock, listened to Venters's idea of its position and suggestion, and curiously placed a strong hand upon it.
"Hold on!" cried Venters. "I heaved at it once and have never gotten over my scare."
"Well, you do seem uncommon nervous," replied Lassiter, much amused. "Now, as for me,
why I always had the funniest notion to roll stones. When I was a kid, I did it, an' the bigger I got, the bigger stones I'd roll. Ain't that funny? Honest... even now I... often get off my hoss jest to tumble a big stone over a precipice, an' watch it drop, an' listen to it bang an' boom. I've started some slides in my time, an' don't you forget it. I never seen a rock I wanted to roll as bad as this one! Wouldn't there jest be roarin', crashin' hell down that trail?"
"You'd close the outlet forever!" exclaimed Venters. "Well, good-bye, Lassiter. Keep my secret and don't forget me. And be mighty careful how you get out of the valley below. The rustlers' canon isn't more than three miles up the pass. Now you've tracked me here, I'll never feel safe again."
Upon his descent back into the valley Venters's emotion, roused to stirring pitch by the recital of his love story, quieted gradually and in its place came a sober, thoughtful mood. All at once he ascertained that he was serious because he would never more regain his sense of security while in the valley. What Lassiter could do, another skillful tracker might duplicate. Among the many riders with whom Venters had ridden he recalled no one who could have taken his trail at Cottonwoods and have followed it to the edge of the bare slope in the pass, let alone up that glistening smooth stone. Lassiter, however, was not an ordinary rider. Instead of hunting cattle tracks, he had likely spent a goodly portion of his life tracking men. It was not improbable that among Oldring's rustlers there was one who shared Lassiter's gift for trailing. The more Venters dwelt on this possibility, the more perturbed he grew.
Lassiter's visit, moreover, had a disquieting effect upon Bess, and Venters fancied that she entertained the same thought as to future seclusion. The breaking of their solitude, although by a well-meaning friend, had not only dispelled all the dream and much of its charm, but had instilled a canker of fear. Both had seen the footprint in the sand.
Venters returned no more to work that day. Sunset and twilight gave way to night, and the canon bird whis tied his melancholy notes, and the wind sang softly in the cliffs, and the campfire blazed and burned down to red embers. To Venters a subtle difference was apparent in all of these, or else the shadowy change had been in him. He hoped that on the morrow this slight depression would have passed away.
In that measure, however, he was doomed to disappointment. Furthermore, Bess reverted to a wistful sadness that he had not observed in her since her recovery. His attempt to cheer her out of it resulted in dismal failure, and consequently in a darkening of his own mood. Hard work relieved him; still, when the day had passed, his unrest returned. Then he set to deliberate thinking, and soon deduced from his own trouble the startling conviction that he must leave Surprise Valley and take Bess with him. As a rider he had taken many chances, and as an adventurer in Deception Pass he had unhesitatingly risked his life, but now he would run no preventable hazard to Bess's safety and happiness, and he was too keen not to see that hazard. It gave him a pang to think of leaving the beautiful valley, just when he had the means to establish a permanent and delightful home there. One flashing thought tore in hot temptation through his mind-why not climb up into the gorge, roll Balancing Rock down the trail, and close forever the outlet to Deception Pass? That was the beast in me... showing his teeth! mused Venters scornfully. I'll just kill him. good and quick! I'll be fair to this girl if its the last thing I do on earth!
Another day went by, in which he worked less and pondered more, and all the time covertly watched Bess. Her wistfulness had deepened into downright unhappiness, and that made his task to tell her all the harder. He kept the secret another day, hoping by some chance she might grow less moody, and to his exceeding anxiety she fell into far deeper gloom. Of his own secret and the torment of it he divined that she, too, had a secret and the keeping of it was torturing her. As yet he had no plan thought out in regard to how or when to leave the valley, but he decided to tell her the necessity of it, and to persuade her to go. Furthermore, he hoped his speaking out would induce her to unburden her own mind.
"Bess, what's wrong with you?" he asked.
"Nothing," she answered with averted face.
Venters took hold of her, and gently though masterfully forced her to meet his eyes. "You can't look at me and lie," he said. "Now... what's wrong with you? You're keeping something from me. Well, I've got a secret, too, and I intend to tell it presently."
"Oh... I have a secret. I was crazy to tell you when you came back. That's why I was so silly about everything. I kept holding my secret back, gloating over it. But when Lassiter came, I got an idea... that changed my mind. Then I hated to tell you."
"Are you going to now?"
"Yes... yes. I was coming to it. I tried yesterday, but you were so cold. I was afraid I couldn't keep it much longer."
"Very well, most mysterious lady, tell your wonderful secret."
"You needn't laugh," she retorted with a first glimpse of reviving spirit. "I can take that laugh out of you... in one second."
"It's a go."
She ran through the spruces to the cave, and returned carrying something that was manifestly heavy. Upon nearer view he saw that whatever she held with such evident importance had been bound up in a black scarf he well remembered. That alone was sufficient to make him tingle with curiosity.
"Have you any idea what I did in your absence?" she asked.
"I imagine you lounged about, waiting and watching for me," he replied, smiling. "I've my share of conceit, you know."
"You're wrong. I worked. Look at my hands." She dropped on her knees close to where he sat, and, carefully depositing the black bundle, she held out her hands. The palms and insides of her fingers were white, puckered, and worn.
"Why... Bess, you've been fooling in the water," he said.
"Fooling? Look here!" With deft fingers she spread open the black scarf and the bright sun shone upon a dull, glittering heap of gold.
"Gold!" he ejaculated.
"Yes, gold! See... pounds of gold! I found it... washed it out of the stream... picked it out grain by grain, nugget by nugget!"
"Gold!" he cried.
"Yes. Now laugh... laugh at my secret!"
For a long minute Venters gazed. Then he stretched forth a hand to feel if the gold was real.
"Gold!" he almost shouted. "Bess, there are hundreds... thousands of dollars' worth here!"
suppose so."
He leaned over to her and put his hand, strong and clenching now, on hers. "Is there more where this came from?" he whispered.
"Plenty of it, all the way up the stream to the cliff. You know, I've often washed for gold. Then I've heard the men talk. I think there's no great quantity of gold here, but enough for... for a fortune for you."
"That... was... your... secret?"
"Yes. I hate gold. For it makes men mad. I've seen them drunk with joy and dance and fling themselves around. I've seen them curse and rave. I've seen them fight like dogs and roll in the dust. I've seen them kill each other for gold."
"Is that why you hated to tell me?"
"Not... not altogether." Bess lowered her head. "It was because I knew you'd never stay here long after you found gold."
"You were afraid I'd leave you?"
"Yes."
"Listen! You great, simple child! Listen! You sweet, wonderful, wild, blue-eyed girl! I was tortured by my secret. It was that I knew we... we must leave the valley. We can't stay here much longer. I couldn't think how we'd get away... out of the country... or how we'd live if we ever got out. I'm a beggar. That's why I kept my secret. I'm poor. It takes money to make way beyond Sterling. We couldn't ride horses or burros or walk forever. So while I knew we must go, I was distracted over how to go and what to do. Now! We've gold! Once beyond Sterling we'll be safe from rustlers. We've no others to fear. Oh, listen, Bess.. ."Venters now heard his voice ringing high and sweet, and he felt Bess's cold hands in his crushing grasp as she leaned toward him-pale-breathless-"this is how much I'd leave you! You made me live again! I'll take you away... far away f
rom this wild country. You'll begin a new life. You'll be happy. You shall see cities, ships, people. You shall have anything your heart craves. All the shame and sorrow of your life shall be forgotten... as if they had never been. This is how much I'd leave you here alone... you sad-eyed girl. I love you! Didn't you know it? I love you! I'm free! I'm a man... a man you've made. No more a beggar! Kiss me! This is how much I'd leave you here alone... you beautiful, strange, unhappy girl. But I'll make you happy. What... what do I care for... your past! I love you! I'll take you home to Illinois... to my mother. Then I'll take you to far places. I'll make up all you've lost. Oh, I know you love me, knew it before you told me. And it changed my life. And you'll go with me... not as my companion as you are here... nor my sister... but Bess, darling... as my wife!"
The plan eventually decided upon by the lovers was for Venters to go to the village, procure a horse and some kind of a disguise for Bess, or at least less striking apparel than what she wore, and to return posthaste to the valley. Meanwhile, she would add to their store of gold. Then they would strike the long and perilous trail to ride out of Utah. In the event of his inability to fetch back a horse for her they intended to make the giant sorrel carry double. The gold, a little food, saddle blankets, and Venters's guns were to compose the light outfit with which they would make the start.
"I love this beautiful place," said Bess. "It's hard to think of leaving it."
"Hard! Well, I should think so," replied Venters. "Maybe in years...." But he did not complete in words his thought that it might be possible to return after many years of absence and change.
Once again Bess bade Venters farewell under the shadow of Balancing Rock, and this time it was with whispered hope and tenderness and passionate trust. Long after he had left her, all down through the outlet to the pass, the clinging clasp of her arms, the sweetness of her lips, and the sense of a new and exquisite birth of character in her remained hauntingly and thrillingly in his mind. The girl who had sadly called herself nameless and nothing had been marvelously transformed in the moment of his avowal of love. It was something to think over, or something to warm his heart, but for the present it had to be absolutely forgotten so that all his mind could be addressed to the trip so fraught with danger.
