The Last Straw

by Harold Titus

  CHAPTER XXIII

  BECK'S DEPARTURE

  Night had come upon the round-up camp, fires near the cook wagon weredying. On the rise to the southward the night-hawk sat with an eye onthe saddle stock which grazed over a wide area and in their tee-peesthe men were sleeping, preparatory to the first day's riding.

  Tom Beck sat alone by the glowing remnants of the cook's fire, staringstolidly into the coals, mouth set, struggling with his pride. Thatquiet, inner voice continued its insistence that he yield a trifle,give Jane Hunter one more chance. "What?" it asked, "will you gain bydenying her this? What, indeed, will be left for you if you persist?"

  But the voice was weaker than it had been early that day. Thealternative it raised in his consciousness less appealing, and adetermination to smother it grew steadily. He had been crossed; he hadbeen duped!

  Oh, he had been a fool! he told himself. He had thrown to the winds hiscaution and his reserve; he had taken the biggest chance that life, thetrickster, dangles before men. He had taken it blindly, against hisbetter judgment; it left him embittered, with nothing beyond except theposition which he held among men. That was a mawkish attainment now; itwas so cheap and inconsequential compared to the sense ofaccomplishment which had been his when Jane Hunter had thrown herselfinto his arms and begged that he carry her into his life! Deludedthough he may have been, that moment had opened to him sensations,vistas, that he had never before imagined existed.

  And now! All else that remained was gray and dead. He had been liftedup to see what might be, only to find that it was denied him; more,those moments of glory had taken the zest from the life that had beenhis before and that now remained.

  For long he sat there and gradually the inner voice died entirely,slowly a cold, heartless desire to cling to a dead thing like hisstanding in the country took its place as his chief interest in life.He had written Jane that such was all that remained to him. He had notrealized as he scrawled those words what a pitiful bauble it was butnow it was necessary to endow it with values that he could not trulyfeel. But he forced himself to believe it of consequence, for men likeTom Beck must have some one valuable thing to live for.

  The tee-pees were quiet when he arose, dropped his dead cigarette intothe expiring embers and sought his bed. But in one tee-pee a man lookedout at the faint jingle of spurs. It was Riley who, with others fromthe lower country, was riding with the HC wagon to help the largeroutfit and, in turn, to be helped in his branding. He was bunked withJimmy Oliver and Oliver said:

  "What's he doin'?"

  "Turnin' in."

  Riley settled back in his blankets and muttered:

  "It's funny ... damned funny, Jim."

  "He's like a man that's _through_. Didn't appear to have any realinterest in the work today, seems like he don't give a damn. I don'tunderstand it."

  "If it wasn't Tom Beck I'd say that they'd got his goat. It's hard tobelieve of him."

  "It can't be that." Oliver was loyal. "It's somethin' else, but itseems like somethin' worse than a man bein' sick of his job. Still, hesaid twice today that he wouldn't be here long an' the way he said_long_ made me think it'd be a mighty short time."

  Silence for a time.

  "Mebby," said Riley, "it's her."

  "Mebby you're right," the other replied. "Tom didn't used to give adamn whether school kept or not. Then, after she come he changed, gotto takin' things seriously and anybody could see he was gone on her.Now....

  "Well, he ain't afraid of men. There ain't bad men enough in thiscountry to drive Tom Beck out.... But women.... They'll put a crimp inth' best of us!"

  * * * * *

  It was the following evening that news of the destruction of CathedralTank was brought to Tom Beck. Riley had ridden the far circle himselfand had found no cattle at the waterhole which the HC foreman hadvisited only a few days before. That is, no live cattle. He found foursteer carcasses, already ravaged by coyotes and buzzards, found thefresh gash in the rock basin and had ridden back to help those cowboyswho were on shorter circles, holding explanation of the fact that hereturned empty handed until he could give it first to Beck.

  Tom received the news silently.

  "I expect you can fix up the basin with some concrete so it'll holdnext winter," Riley said.

  "It's likely," the other responded, "but next winter's plans for thisoutfit ain't worryin' me, Riley."

  He meant, of course, that there were matters of greater importance justthen. The dynamiting had been accomplished after his warning to Webband Hepburn, which was clear evidence that the war went on asdesperately as before and that these other men were not cowed, theirdetermination to run him from the country had not been shaken. A hotrage swept through him. Next winter's plans were remote indeed! Fatehad taken his woman from him; these renegades would take away the lasthold on life!

  But Riley did not construe his meaning as such and when, the followingmorning, Tom called Jimmy Oliver aside and talked to him themisunderstanding of what went on in his mind was more complicated forhe said:

  "Jimmy, you're goin' to lead this round-up for a while ... mebby forgood."

  "So, Tom?"--in surprise, and in hope that an explanation would beforthcoming.

  "I'm leavin' here an' mebby I won't be back."

  Beck was thinking that he would inspect that tank and track down themen responsible for its destruction and make them pay. He said that hemight not be back because he had warned them away from HC property andcould expect no leniency if he invaded their stronghold. Invade it hewould, for this had gone past the point where he could play a waitinggame. So long as it had been his safety which mattered most he couldassume and retain the defensive, but now Two-Bits had all but lost hislife while executing his orders and HC cattle had been driven byhundreds into high country before he had planned they should come. Itwas time to counter-attack.

  Rapidly the word ran through the camp: Beck was leaving! As it passedfrom man to man it grew, as rumors all will, and took more definiteshape: Beck was quitting.

  He ate silently with the others and his very silence was so marked thatit quieted the rest, warded off the questions which under othercircumstances might have been put to him.

  The wrangler brought in the horses and Beck was the first to approachthe cavet with rope ready. He selected his big roan, looked the animalover carefully and slinging a canteen over the horn, climbed ratherheavily to the saddle.

  Other men were catching up their horses. One was pitching and fightingthe rope; two others were trying desperately to break out of the cavet.There was running about and confusion, but as Beck rode away to thewest-way, head down, so obviously absorbed in himself, men stopped towatch and to wonder.

  * * * * *

  The HC foreman was not the only individual in that country who, as thesun shoved over the far rim of the world, thought so intensely of hisown, wholly personal interests that consciousness of what transpiredabout him was lost.

  Jane Hunter sat suddenly up in her bed, golden hair in a shower abouther shoulders, blue eyes that had been waking and painful until dawn,filled with tears. She stared about her as one will who rouses abruptlyfrom a startling dream, lips parted, a hand to her flushed throat,breath quick and irregular. She held so a moment, then sank back intothe pillows, calling softly:

  "Tom; Tom!"

  Her slender body quivered spasmodically and her sobbing became likethat of a child. One hand, flung across the cover, clenched feebly andfeebly beat the bedding, as though it hammered hopelessly at wallswhich held her in, making her a prisoner ... as she was, a prisoner toher pride.

  And high up on the point which formed the western flank of the Gap toDevil's Hole, Sam McKee dropped down from his gray horse and stoodlooking far out across the level country beneath him. In the clear airhe could see the smoke of the round-up camp fire.

  Yesterday he had watched from there, with Hilton's words still in hisears, Hilton's hope in his heart, and had known that Riley ro
de to thetank. Last night he had talked and walked in the darkness with theEasterner again, had heard Hilton's crafty questioning of Hepburn andWebb which caused them to repeat again and again their belief that TomBeck would take it upon himself to inspect the damage done by dynamite.He had slept fitfully, in a fever of anticipation.

  And yet he had kept secret his achievement in shooting down Two-Bits.There was a time for all things and the time to divulge that minoraccomplishment was not yet. For long he had been belittled, and had nostanding among his associates; now they were banded in common cause, hehad made one step toward triumph and that move had reestablished theconfidence that had lain dormant for long. It had enabled Hilton'ssuggestions to take hold, enabled him to whet his own hate, to workhimself into a paroxysm of rage, and today he was to emerge a figure ofconsequence, for he was to remove the obstacle which was in the path ofall.

  Webb's battered field glasses were slung over his shoulder and as hepicked out the lone dot of moving life, coming slowly in his direction,he unstrapped the case with hands that trembled. It required but onemoment to identify that horse for none but Beck's roan swung along withthe same distance-eating shack; but McKee stared for a long interval,his body tense, his breath slow and audible, as if tantalizing himselfby sight of that isolated rider, teasing his hatred, teasing it....

  Then he mounted the gray and swung down the treacherous point, seekinga big wash that made a wrinkle on in the floor of the desert wherestorm waters had rushed toward the tank for countless decades. In thishe could ride unseen and he went forward at a trot, eyes straightahead, moistening his lips from time to time....