The Last Straw

by Harold Titus

  CHAPTER XXV

  A MOUNTAIN PORTIA

  It was a long ride from the HC to the round-up camp but the sorrel wasnot spared. The impulse that sent Jane Hunter through the last hours ofdarkness had only accumulated strength before the resistance which hadheld it back through those dragging days. She was on her way to herlover, to explain in a word the situation that had caused the breachbetween them; she had fought down the pride of which that resistancewas made and now her every thought, her every want was to make Beckknow that it was humiliation and injured pride rather than infidelitywhich had sent him away.

  Thought that she had failed to stand self possessed before BobbyCole--a burning, shaming thought yesterday--was relegated to an obscureplace in her consciousness. She had fallen short of the poise her loverwould have her retain, but that did not matter ... not now.

  Without Beck's love there was nothing for her, she had come to believeand she experienced a strange, little-girl feeling, fleeing toward theprotecting arms that could comfort and hold her safe from the blacknessthat was elsewhere.

  She leaned low on the sorrel's neck and called to him and he ranthrough the dying night breathing excitedly as her impatience wascommunicated to him. Dawn yawned in the east and the mountains tookshape. The road became discernable before her. She drew the excitedhorse down to a trot and forced herself to force him to conserve someof his splendid energy.... Then urged him forward, a moment later, at astretching run....

  The round-up camp was moving that day. The riders were up and the firsthad swung off for the work of the morning before she pulled her horseto a stop beside the chuck wagon.

  "He ain't here, ma'am," Oliver replied to her query for Beck.

  "Not here?"--sharply, for she sensed from him that something was wrong.

  "No. He left yesterday. He told me to head this ride. He--"

  "And where did he go?" she broke in, voice not just steady.

  "I don't know, ma'am." The man studied her face intently, seeing theconfusion there, adding it to the evidence he had collected to pieceout a theory. "I thought maybe he said something to you about quitting."

  "_Quitting!_ You don't mean that!"

  "It looks like it, ma'am. I didn't know just how to take what he said.It seems like somethin' 's got him worried. He wasn't like himself. Youwouldn't know him.

  "He said that future plans for this outfit didn't interest him. He saidhe was leavin' and it wasn't likely he'd be back but it wasn't so muchwhat he said as it was th' way he said it that made me think he wasgoin' to drift. We all know he's got some pretty active enemies but itwasn't like Beck to run away from 'em. Still....

  "He left me in charge an' said I was to take orders from you. He ain'tshowed up since and Lord knows where he'd go except out of the country."

  Out of the country! The words made her hear but vaguely the story ofthe ruined Tank and the questions about the work that Oliver put toher. Out of the country! He had gone, then, thinking that her love hadnot been a fast love, that she was wholly unworthy. He had taken hischance and had lost and that loss had taken from him even the desire tostay and face the men who would drive him out of the country because hehad defended her!

  Later Jane found herself riding homeward, the sorrel at a walk, hermind numb and heavy. Last night it had been a question of love againsther pride; she had sacrificed the latter only to find that thatsacrifice had been made too late.

  She wanted, suddenly, to quit ... to quit trying ... thinking....

  She canvased the situation: she was alone, without an understandingindividual upon whom to lean. She was the target for great forces ofevil which sought to undermine her very determination to exist in thatcountry. A faint wave of resentment made itself felt at that. Theywould continue their war and upon a lone woman! She realized herposition more keenly than she had before, when Beck had been shieldingher. Now she stood unprotected. If she were to exist she _must standalone!_

  Her mind went back to that time when Dick Hilton had told her that shecould not stand alone and her resentment became a degree morepronounced.

  The lethargy, the hopelessness clung but behind it was something else,a realization that she had not lost utterly. She had lost the love shehad found, but had she failed to gain anything? Yesterday it seemedthat the ripest fruits of experience were hers; she hadposition--menaced, but still hers--she had love. Months before she hadabandoned the quest of love, seeking only to stand alone. She might goback to her outlook of those days, put aside the call of her heart andseek only for place; she could make that search intelligently now!

  She sat at her desk, a spirit of resignation coming as a sort ofcomfort. If she had lost love, had she lost all that there was in life?No, not that! There was something else she had found in these months:She had found _herself!_

  Tom Beck was gone, his love for her was dead, miles were between them,and she believed she knew him well enough to understand that he had puther forever behind him. She had lost the true fulfillment of life,perhaps, but something remained. And the question came: Why not makethe best of it? Why not keep what remains? Why not fight for it? Whynot _stand alone?_

  Oh, she had not known the strength that had been born of Beck'sresistance to her wooing! That morning she believed that she couldquit, that she could drift aimlessly, buffeted by vagrant influences,but now she knew that she could not. A compelling force had beenstarted within her which would not down, a driving impulse to keep on,to salvage her self respect, to wrest from life what remained.

  And in this she recognized that quality which Beck had planted in her,which he had nourished and coaxed and made to grow. To keep on would berite offered at the shrine of her love for him ... though he wasgone....

  For a moment she cried and after that hope was born. He might return;she might even follow and make him understand. She set that back,resolutely. Tom Beck was gone from her life, she told herself, but hisinfluence remained. That could never go; by error she had lost finalachievement: love. By error she had been thrown back upon herself, herown resources, her own will.

  The war that was waged upon her had been a terrifying thing yesterday;now it was even more horrible for it sought to take from her the lastthing that remained to be desired, and that could not be!

  She wiped her eyes angrily and repeated aloud:

  "That cannot _be!_"

  She must fight on alone; fight harder than she ever had fought in herlife before. It was up to her, now, to remain fast in the face ofefforts to dislodge her.

  Jane paced the floor nervously, in quick, swinging strides. There wasthe burning of hay, the breaking of ditches; there was the shootingdown of Two-Bits, the destruction of Cathedral Tank, there was thepresence in the Hole of the nester and his daughter. At thought ofBobby a sharp pang shot through her. There was a woman who coulddominate! There, perhaps, was the key to the puzzle.

  Beck had intimated that her enemies found a nucleus in the nester'soutfit; the Reverend had been outspoken in his suspicion; she hadconfided in Riley that she suspected something of the sort. Colehimself was a negligible quantity but the girl was not. The catamountmight hold Jane Hunter's fate in her hand ... the hand that had struckher!

  On her desk lay the envelope in which had been Beck's note; beside itthe locket. She paused, picked up the trinket and studied it as it layon her small palm. Slowly she lifted it to her lips, clutched ittightly and then with a catch of breath fastened it about her neck,where it nestled as though coming home again.

  She needed her luck, he had written! Oh yes, she needed her luck!

  And even then a rider was speeding across the hills toward her, lashinghis horse, crashing through brush, leaping down timber, clattering overtreacherous ledges to save time: and other men were riding on JimmyOliver's orders, bringing the cow-boys in off their circles, assemblingthem in Devil's Hole where a group of men stood silent and sullen....

  Oh, she would fight on, desperate in her determination to crowd thoughtof a lost love from her life! She welcomed combat fo
r it would be as abalm to that gaping wound of loss.

  Later she saw the rider come into the ranch on his lathered horse. Heflung off at the bunk house and, a moment later, came running towardher with Curtis at his side.

  Alarmed, Jane met them at the door with a query on her lips.

  "They want you in the Hole, ma'am," Curtis said.

  "What's the trouble?"--for it could be nothing but trouble which wouldbring men in such haste and she had a crisp fear that it pertained toBeck.

  "They've got Cole down there with a lot of your calves an' he's put hisbrand on 'em. Webb's there, too, an' Hepburn. They're holdin' 'em allfor you to come," the messenger said. He was excited, he breathedrapidly and added: "Oliver an' Riley agreed you ought to come. It'syour property ... an' it's your fight."

  Her fight! Her fight, indeed! Perhaps this was a drawing to a head ofthe forces that had been arrayed against her. The man had mentionedWebb and Hepburn as though he considered their presence of significance.

  A pinto, this time, bore her away from the ranch, the man, tense andsilent, riding beside her. She did not speak as they scrambled up thepoint and gained high country nor did she look at him as they set intoa gallop again. An indistinct haze was coming in the west with alooming thunder head protruding from it here and there. The wind intheir faces was hot and fitful. The scarf about her neck flutterederratically.

  Jane had little attention for the detail of that ride. This was herfight and she raced to meet it with an eagerness born of necessity toretain what she might of the happiness she had made hers. And as sherode Tom Beck, pieces cut from his chaps bound about his feet toprotect them on the long journey by foot, his retrieved canteen overhis shoulder, limped into the camp, heard the cook's vague,disconnected story of the discovery that had been made in the Hole,borrowed boots, saddled a horse and rode swiftly across the hills.

  * * * * *

  The pinto took Jane down the trail in great lunges, for she had nothought for dangers of the descent. At the foot was one of her men,Baldy Bowen, sitting ominously on his horse with a rifle across thehorn. He watched her come and before she could speak jerked his headand said:

  "They're waitin' for you, straight across there, ma'am."

  She glanced in his direction and set off with renewed speed, windingthrough the cedars.

  Against the far wall of the Hole was formed a curious group before afence of brush and wire that blocked the entrance to a box gulch. HCriders were there, dismounted, in a silent, unsmiling cluster. Under acedar tree sat Cole, the nester, knees drawn up, arms falling limplyover them; more than ever he seemed to be drooping, in spirit as wellas body. He did not glance up; just sat, staring from beneath droopinglids at the ground. Nearby lounged one of Jane's cowboys, his holsterhitched significantly forward.

  Apart from these others stood Hepburn, Webb and Bobby Cole and oneother, curiously out of place in his smart clothes: Dick Hilton. Nowand then one of the four spoke and the others would eye the speakerclosely; then look away, absorbed in a situation that was evidentlybeyond words. Sitting grouped on the ground were Webb's riders andCole's Mexicans. They talked and laughed lowly among themselves andfrom time to time turned rather taunting grins at Jane Hunter's men.

  At a short distance stood horses, grazing or dozing; listless, all. Butthere was no listlessness among the men. The atmosphere was tense ...to the breaking point.

  A rider came through the brush and stopped his horse. It was Sam McKee.He looked with widening eyes at the gathering, hesitated, as though toturn and leave, then approached.

  "I seen two men in th' Gap," he said to Webb. "They said...."

  He looked about again.

  "Well, get down an' set," Webb said cynically.

  McKee stared from face to face.

  "I guess I'll go on."

  "I guess you'll stay here," said Jimmy Oliver firmly. "We've got alittle matter to talk over an' nobody leaves. I guess the boys in th'Gap probably thought you'd like to hear what was goin' on."

  Hilton stepped toward Oliver.

  "Look here," he said, "I'm a disinterested party to all this. There'sno use in my staying here."

  "What I said to Sam goes for everybody else, Mister. When we put ridersin the Gap an' at the trails we intended for everybody to hang around.That goes. Everybody!"

  Then he added: "If anybody wants to get out it'll be pretty goodevidence that he's got somethin' to hide. This 's a matter that thewhole country's interested in. You ain't got nothin' to hide, have you?"

  The Easterner did not reply; turned back to Bobby with a grimace.

  Sound of running hoofs and a quick silence shut down upon thegathering. The clouds were coming up more rapidly from the west; daywas drawing down into them; the wind on the heights soughed restlessly.

  Jane Hunter brought her pinto to an abrupt stop and sat, flushed andwind-blown, looking about.

  "Well?" she said to Jimmy Oliver as he stepped forward.

  "We sent for you, ma'am, because we stumbled onto somethin' that looksbad ... for somebody."

  Her eyes ran from face to face. In the expression of her men she read acurious loyalty, mingled with speculation. They watched her closely asOliver spoke, as men look upon a leader, as though waiting for her tospeak that they might act. Still, about them was a reservation, asthough their acceptance of her was conditional, as though they wonderedwhat she would say or do.

  She saw Webb and Hepburn eyeing her craftily; she saw Bobby Cole's gazeon her, filled with hate and scorn ... and a strange brand of fear. Andshe saw Dick Hilton, eyeing her with helpless rage and offendeddignity. The entire assemblage was grimly in earnest.

  "Go on," she said lowly and dismounted, standing erect on a rise ofrock that put her head and shoulders above the others.

  "Jim Black here,"--indicating a cowboy in white angora chaps--"tookdown the trail after a renegade steer this forenoon. He came on thisplace and a hot fire and a yearlin' steer of yours whose brand had beentampered with.

  "There's been enough goin' on recent, ma'am, to let everybody know thatsomething was pretty wrong. Mebby we've run onto the answer today.That's why we sent for you."

  She looked about again and old Riley, moving out from the group slowly,as a man who feels that the welfare of others may be in his hands mightmove, said:

  "For twenty years we've lived quite peaceable here, Miss Hunter. Sincespring we've had anything but peace. It ain't a question that concernsany one of us alone; it affects the whole country. We've got evidencehere of stealin'; we've got a man who, in our minds, ought to be triedfor that crime....

  "We sent for you because it happened to be your property. There'splenty of law in the mountains, but things have happened here that haveput men beyond that law. Parties have resorted to the law of strength,and not honest strength at that. It's time it was stopped or some of usain't goin' to exist....

  "I know this ain't a pleasant task for a woman, but it seems likesomethin' you've got to face ... if you're goin' to stay here. I guessyou understand that, ma'am."

  Jane's heart leaped in apprehension, she was short of breath, bloodroared in her ears, but she fought to retain at least a show ofcomposure.

  "It seemed there wasn't any way out of it, but to turn the matter overto you. We'll all tell what we know; we'll see that there's order here.We agreed you ought to sit as judge on the evidence against this man."

  Again a consciousness of those faces upon her; faces of her men,honest, rugged, brave fellows, looking to her to stand alone! She knew,then, what that alloy in their loyalty had been. They would follow ifshe would lead; there was doubt in their hearts that she _could_lead, for she was a woman, she was a stranger and not their kind! Formonths they had watched her, refusing to judge, but now the time hadcome. Now, if she ever was to stand alone, she must rise in her ownstrength and be worthy to lead such men!

  Then there were those others: Hepburn and Webb and their outlawfollowing; perhaps, among them, the man who had shot Two-Bits down wh
enhe was serving her; perhaps the man who had burned her hay, broken herditches, run off her horses. The men who would drive her out.

  She felt suddenly weak. They were all watching her. This was the hourin which she must win or lose. It was _she_, not Alf Cole, who wason trial!

  Jane began to speak, rather slowly, but evenly and clearly.

  "I want the story from the beginning. Jim Black, will you tell what youknow?"

  Thus simply she accepted her responsibility to the country, took up herfinal fight for position there.

  Black stepped forward, serious, quiet, showing no self consciousnesswhatever as the eyes swung upon him. Webb's riders had risen and weregrouped behind their leader.

  "Jimmy told you how I happened here. This steer, ma'am, cut across theflat an' I followed. I heard bawlin' over this way an', naturally, wassurprised. Pulled up my hoss an' rode over. There was a fire in thatgulch, an' it'd just been scattered. A man had been kneelin' down byit, an' there was one of your yearlin's hog-tied there. Your ear markwas still on him but your brand had been made from an HC into a THOby crossin' the H an' closin' the C."

  He stooped and with his quirt demonstrated thusly:

  HC THO]

  "There was other calves in there. I counted sixteen. They was all THOstuff an' they was all mighty young."

  "Did you see any men?" she asked.

  He shook his head. "I dragged it for high country, got Jimmy an' toldhim."

  "Oliver, have someone bring out this yearling," Jane said.

  Two men mounted their horses, opened the brush gate, roped the steerand dragged him, bawling, into the assemblage. Jane stepped down fromher rock and, with a dozen others crowding about, examined the brand.

  "That's unmistakable," she said lowly as she straightened. "Part ofthat brand healed months ago; the rest is fresh."

  She moved back to the rock on which she had stood and rested a hand onthe pinto's withers.

  "Oliver, what did you do?" she asked.

  "I gathered the boys an' come down here as fast as I could. I saw thispen an' the calves. I sent men to both trails an' two to the Gap withorders to shoot to kill anybody that tried to get out. Then I went toCole's house.

  "Cole swore up an' down that he didn't know anything about it. His galwas there an' this here party from the east,"--with a rathercontemptuous jerk of his head toward Hilton. "I brought Cole back herean' the others followed.

  "Seems Webb and Hepburn an' their men was in th' Hole. I didn't knowit. Th' gal ... she went to get 'em.

  "It's just as well,"--dryly. "This ain't a matter that affects any oneof us. It's for everybody in th' country to consider."

  Hepburn stirred uneasily as Jane looked from Oliver to him.

  "I think all that's necessary is to talk to Mr. Cole," she said.

  The nester looked up slowly and laboriously gained his feet. Heslouched toward the girl.

  "I don't know nothin' about it," he said in his whining voice.

  Bobby Cole took a quick step forward as he spoke, but Hepburn put out adetaining hand and muttered a word. She stopped. Her face wascolorless; eyes hard and bright; she breathed quickly and seemed almoston the verge of tears.

  "Who built this pen?" Jane asked.

  "I don't know."

  "Did you ever see it before?"

  "No, I--well, I did _see_ it, but I don't know nothin' about it."

  "You've been here all the Spring and didn't know anything about it?"

  Her tone was sharp, decisive and the color had mounted in her face. Sheleaned slightly forward from the hips.

  "No, I don't know nothin' about it," he protested, lifting hischaracterless eyes to hers.

  "Who brands your cattle?"

  "I do."

  "No one else?"

  "Not another,"--with a slow shaking of the head.

  "Can you think of anybody who would put your brand on my cattle?"

  "No. Nobody would hev done that."

  "But have you looked at this steer?"--indicating the yearling with theindisputable evidence on his side.

  Cole lifted an unsteady hand to scratch his mustache, eyed the animalfurtively and glanced at Hepburn. As their eyes met Hepburn's headmoved in slight, quick negation. Ever so slight, ever so quick, butJane Hunter saw and Hepburn saw that she saw and a guilty flush whippedinto his face, spreading clear to the eyes.

  "Hasn't someone been working over my brand?" she demanded, forcing Coleto look at her again.

  "I don't know ... I dunno nothin' about it...."

  She breathed deeply and moved a step backward.

  "How do you suppose these calves come to be here? My calves, with yourbrand on them?"

  "Them is my calves, ma'am," he protested, weakly, "Them is old brands."

  "Oh, all but this yearling belong to you?"

  "Yes,"--nodding his head as his confidence rallied. "Them's all mine. Ibranded 'em myself."

  "And why do you keep them here?"

  "Well, there's water an' feed an' I wanted to wean 'em--"

  "And a moment ago you said you knew nothing about this pen?"

  A flicker of confusion crossed the man's face and again he looked awaytoward Hepburn in mute appeal. Hepburn's face reflected a contempt, awrath, and for a fraction of time Jane studied it intently, a quickhope forming in her breast. She lifted a hand to touch, in unconsciouscaress, the locket which was at her throat.

  "Look at me, Cole!" she cried and her body trembled. Her tone wascompelling, she experienced a sensation of mounting power, felt thatshe was dominating and without looking she knew that the men before herstirred, impressed by her rising confidence. "Look at me and answer myquestions!"

  Hesitatingly the man looked back and then dropped his eyes.

  "Well, I said I knew it was here."

  "You knew more than that. You have been using it. How long ago was itbuilt?"

  "A month--Oh, I dunno--"

  "What about a month?" she insisted, gesturing bruskly. "What about amonth?"

  "I dunno."

  She relaxed a trifle again and eyed the confused, visibly agitated man.For a breath the place was in utter silence. The gloom deepened; thewind held off. It was as though the crisis were at hand.... And justthen the man at the foot of the trail across the flat put down hisrifle and said with a short laugh:

  "I didn't make you out, Tom."

  * * * * *

  When Jane spoke again it was in an easier tone.

  "How did you happen to come to this country, Cole?"

  He looked up, relief showing in his face as she abandoned the otherline of questioning. Hepburn stirred and Webb lifted a hand to hook histhumb in his belt.

  "Why, I heered about this place. Good feed an' water an' a place tosettle. So I just come; that's all."

  "How did you hear about it?"

  "A feller told me."

  "Who?"

  "I dunno his name. I--"

  "How many cows have you?"

  Her voice was suddenly sharp and hard as she cut in on his impotentevasion and shifted her subject again.

  "Why, 'bout twenty."

  "And how many calves are with them?"

  He seemed to calculate, but she insisted, leaning closer to him:

  "How many calves?"

  "Why, not more'n half of 'em got calves."

  "Sure? Not more than half?"

  "Why ... I guess--"

  "And you've got sixteen young calves in this pen! How do you accountfor that?"

  A murmur ran among her men and Cole looked at her with fright in hiseyes.

  "I dunno!" he suddenly burst out, voice trembling. "I dunno nothin'about it. You've all got me here an' are pickin' on me. I didn't stealanything. I thought they was all mine." And then, in a broken,repressedly frantic appeal: "I don't want to go to jail again. I don'tknow nothin'...."

  "Again?" she said, quite gently.

  He looked at her and nodded slowly. The little resistance he hadoffered her was gone; his limbs trembled and
his eyes had that whipped,abject look that a broken spirited dog will show.

  "You've been in jail once? For stealing cattle?"

  "I didn't steal.... They said I did. They didn't want me around.They're like all you big outfits; they don't want me ... they don'twant me...."

  He lifted one hand in a gesture of hopeless appeal and tears showed inhis eyes. They didn't want him, as she didn't want him! And suddenly anoverwhelming pity surged upward in the girl for this man. It was likeher, like all the Jane Hunters, like all men and women in whose heartsgreat strength and great pity is combined. There was no question of hisguilt, but he was helpless before her; his fate was in her hands ...and back in her mind that other theory was forming; that other hope wascoming to stronger life....

  "Cole, did you steal my calves?"

  She leaned low and spoke intently; her voice was a mingling ofresolution and warmth that created confidence in his heart. For amoment he evaded her look; then answered it and a sob came up into histhin throat and shook it. He looked from her to Hepburn and then toWebb and read there something that Jane, whose eyes followed his, couldnot read; all she could read was threat ... threat, threat!

  "Did you steal my calves?" she repeated in a tone even lower.

  She saw her men strain forward.

  "Oh, I don't want to go to jail!" he said and tears streamed down hisseamed cheeks. "I took 'em ... but I'm a poor man ... a poor man...."

  From Bobby came a stifled cry. She started forward again, but this timeit was Hilton who grasped her arm, rather roughly. He drew her back,hissing a word between his teeth. His eyes glittered.

  Riley stepped forward quickly beside Cole. His face was strained; mouthvery grim. Oliver was beside him; breathing quickly.

  "What's your verdict, Miss Hunter?" Riley asked. His voice was hoarse.

  "You have heard it," she said gently. "You heard it from his lips."

  She was not looking at them, but at Bobby Cole, who stood with knucklespressed against her lips, fright, misery in her staring eyes. Thestrength, the vindictiveness was gone. She was a little girl, then, alittle girl in trouble!

  "Then I guess there's nothin' to do, but to go through with thisourselves." The old cattle man spoke slowly and rather heavily. "Cole,there's a way of treatin' thieves in this country that's gone out offashion in recent years; we ain't had to hang nobody for a long time,but--"

  "Stop!"

  It was a clear, ringing cry from Jane that checked Riley, that causedthe man who had grimly picked up his rope to stand holding itmotionless in his hand.

  "This is a matter for all of us, but by common consent I was selectedto judge this man. He has admitted his guilt after an opportunity toprotest his innocence. Now you must let me pass sentence...."

  "Sentence, ma'am?" Riley asked. "There's only one way. This has beenwar: they've warred you, they've threatened to drive you out. It's youor ... your enemies. This man is your proven enemy. Make an example ofhim. He's guilty; nothin' else should be considered!"

  "One thing," she said, smiling for the first time that afternoon, aslow, serious, grave smile, withal a tender smile, as she looked atCole, the trembling craven.

  "One thing: The quality of mercy!

  "Men, do you know that line? 'The quality of mercy is not strained. Itdroppeth as the gentle rain from heaven'?

  "Mercy is the most holy thing in human relations. It is a blessing notonly to the man who receives it, but to the man that gives!"

  The first, dissenting stir died. This was no dodging, no evading theissue. This was something new and her manner caught their interest asshe stood with one outstretched hand appealing frankly for theirattention and understanding.

  "This man has stolen from me. You have seen him here. He has shownhimself to be a weakling, a poor, wretched man, who has neither friendsnor respect for himself. He has known trouble before." She looked fromthe man before her to Bobby whose strained face was on hers withamazement, whose breast rose and fell irregularly, in whose eyes stoodtears. "I think that he has known little but trouble; he has beenunfortunate perhaps because he tried to help himself by troublingothers. There is only one thing left in life for him and that is hisliberty.

  "He cannot hurt me. He cannot hurt any of us from now on. He knows whatwe know of this thing today. He will stand before us all as a man whohas not played the game fairly.

  "Do you fear him? Do you young, strong men fear this man?... No, youdon't! No more than I. We have seen him humbled; we have heard himplead. Giving him his liberty will cost us nothing. I will go so far asto promise you that he will never steal from us again ... if we do thisfor him.... Don't you agree with me?"

  She looked from face to face, but as her eyes traveled they were notfor an instant unconscious of other faces ... back there; faces towhich had come relief, relaxation, color, after tensity and pallor;faces which the next instant were dark and apprehensive, for she said:

  "I don't want you to think that I am through ... not now. There hasbeen stealing, but that has been only a part of the trouble. There havebeen other things, things which this man who we know has stolen wouldnot do. Let us not be satisfied with cutting off the top of this weedwhich has poisoned the range; let us try to get to the roots and tearthem out!"

  She stood, beautiful in the confidence which, with a sentence, with agesture, had checked these men in their determination to administerjustice as it once had been administered in those hills, which hadstilled dissent on their lips, which had switched their reasoning intoa new path. Alone among them she could dominate! Her strength, doubtedan hour ago, over-rode Riley's influence, created by years of prestigeon the range, even made that old cattleman stand back and waitrespectfully, wondering what she had to say. Her color was high, eyesbright, lips parted slightly in a grave, assured smile, and her oneextended hand, small, white, delicate held them!

  "This thievery was only a symptom, only an indication of what hastranspired," she went on. "Just the outward evidence of those desiresand impulses which have turned into chaos the peace of this beautifulcountry. Into that we must inquire and there is one more witness I wantto call."

  She hesitated, then said gently:

  "Bobby Cole."

  A low murmur again ran through the group and from the clouds above themcame a muttering of thunder.

  All turned to look at the girl and so intent were they that they didnot see a horseman ride through the trees and stop and look; anddismount. Tom Beck walked slowly toward the group, until he could lay ahand on the hip of Jane Hunter's pinto. Then he stood behind her, eyescurious.

  "Will you come up here and talk to me?" Jane asked.

  The other girl remained motionless.

  "Well now, Miss Hunter, don't you think--" Hepburn began in mildprotest.

  "I think many things, Mr. Hepburn. My purpose is either to justify orto convince myself that I think wrongly. Will you come ... Bobby?"

  Almost mechanically the girl moved forward. Hilton muttered a quickword to Webb and Webb glanced back nervously. Two of his men movedcloser.

  "But we've found out about your calves, Miss Hunter. What else do youwant to know?"

  Hepburn's voice was breath-choked though outwardly he maintainedcomposure.

  "It makes damned little difference." It was Riley speaking and his handwas on his holster. "Hepburn, you and everybody else stand pat untilyou're called for."

  Hepburn's eyes flared malevolently. He started to speak again, butclosed his lips, as in forebearance. Sam McKee coughed with a dry,forced sound.

  "What is it you want with me?"

  Bobby stopped before Jane and eyed her up and down, gaze settling onthe girl's face finally. There was hostility in it; there was hate ...a degree; but these were softened, subdued, leavened by an outstandingappreciation. Her lips trembled and, almost thoughtlessly, she put outa hand to touch her father's, fingers squeezing his in a movement ofaffection ... and relief.

  For a moment Jane did not speak. Then she began, lowly, rapidly,flushed but resolute
and with a light of friendliness in her eyes.

  "I want you to understand me ... without any more delay. You and I cameinto this country at about the same time. Where we should have beenfriends from the first we have been enemies; it even came to such apass that you promised to drive me from the country."

  Her voice shook a bit and on the words that old hostility leaped backinto Bobby's face.

  "I think that was because you did not understand me. You have thoughtthat I wished you bad luck from the first and that is not so. Had Iwanted to have vengeance on you, had I wanted to drive you out, I couldhave done so this afternoon ... only a moment ago. I am not trying toimpress you with my generosity because I don't feel that I have beengenerous. I have tried to be just; that is all. I have tried to do thething that would mean the most to all of us....

  "But there are things with which you can help me. I am sure. There areso many things that we have in common. You see, you and I are very muchalike."

  That touched the other's curiosity. She was all intent, lips parted,eyes wondering.

  "Alike?" She was incredulous.

  Jane nodded.

  "The thing that you want most of all is the thing that I want more thananything else: That is the respect of men."

  She paused and Bobby's brows drew together in perplexity.

  "The first time I saw you, you were trying to win the respect of themen in this country with your quirt. Perhaps that helped you. Perhapsit would have helped me had I been able or inclined to take it that way.

  "That doesn't matter. The thing that matters, which gives us somethingin common is this: You found that men did not respect you and so did I.Men showed their disrespect for you by ... well, by saying unpardonablethings. Men have shown their disrespect for me by trying to drive meout of the country, by burning and stealing and shooting at my men....

  "You and I are the only women here. These men,"--with a gesture--"cannot understand what their respect means to us. It is the only thingworth while in our lives. Isn't that so? No woman can be happy orsatisfied unless she has the respect of men. That is because ourmothers for generations back have been mothers because men respectedthem....

  "I don't believe from what I know of you that you have ever had muchrespect from men. I can appreciate what that means to you, because itappears that the man who should have respected me the most in thecountry where I came from, did not respect me.

  "There was one man I used to know who was supposed to give me all therespect that a man could give a woman: he said that he loved me. Thatman,"--there was a quick movement in the group which sheignored--"followed me west to tell me that he loved me again and whenhe found that I could not love him, he showed that he did anything butrespect me. Do you understand how that could hurt? When a man who hadsworn for years that he loved me proved that ... it was something quitedifferent?"

  She paused and Bobby, wide-eyed, said:

  "He follered you out here to ... try to get you to marry him?"

  Jane nodded.

  The other girl turned and her eyes sought out Hilton's face, which wascontorted with raging humiliation.

  "Is that _so?_" she asked.

  "That's a lie!" he snarled, but looked away.

  "Is that _so?_"

  Her tone was lowered, but she hissed the question at him. She strainedforward, glaring at him, and averting his face he said again:

  "It's a lie."

  But the assertion was without conviction, without strength.

  Bobby turned back. Her lips were tight and trembling.

  "Well?" she said, tears in her eyes again, and her manner proved thatHilton's denial had fallen far short of being convincing.

  "Then there were other factors: As soon as I arrived here thingscommenced to go wrong. Because I was a woman, people thought they couldusurp my rights. My horses were stolen; my hay was burned; my ditchesbroken. My men were shot at. A note was sent to me, telling me that I'dbetter leave the country while I had something left.

  "You see, don't you, that that meant that men--it must have been menwho did it--had no respect for me?

  "This water down here was fenced. That was your right, but I thought Icould persuade you to help me a little. I think yet that I could havedone so but for your misunderstanding....

  "I knew that you wanted the respect of men. I knew that about all youhad in life was your self respect. I knew that the same man who hadmade love to me and who had not meant it, was making love to you andnot meaning it. I called him to see me and tried to talk him out of it,begged him to go away from you before ... before you had stoppedrespecting yourself. You must have mistaken my motive in--"

  "You didn't send for him to ask him to take you back? You didn't dothat?"

  "I have told you my motive once; that was the truth ... whole truth."

  Again Bobby turned and again her accusing, flaring eyes sought Hilton'sdistraught face.

  "So you lied to me again, did you? That was a lie, was it?" She waited."Well, why don't you answer?" she flung at him and stood, directing onhim the hate that she had once shown for Jane Hunter.

  But when she wheeled sharply back to confront the mistress of the HCher eyes were bathed in tears, her head was thrown back, and she threwher arms wide.

  "He did lie to me!" she panted. "He did.... I hated you because Ithought you had friends an' folks that respected you. He lied an' itmade me hate you worse...." She choked with sobs and Jane stepped downfrom the rock to put hands on her shoulders.

  "Oh, miss, I've acted so bad to you!" Bobby moaned lowly. "I ... Ididn't know, didn't understand. I thought you didn't want anything butharm to come to us. I stole from you because I hated you.... I ..."

  She threw back her head again and the weakness of spiritual distressdropped from her. Her voice grew full and firm.

  "You've treated us like nobody else ever treated us before. You had Alftied down to a calf stealin' an' you let him go. You.... You've beentryin' to do me good all the while I've been tryin' to do you harm.They've been warrin' on you an' I ... I could have stopped it!"

  She wheeled, facing the men, her back to Jane. Her shoulders were drawnup and she leaned backward. Her face was white, voice shrill. Her eyesburned.

  "Well ... you, Webb, an' Hepburn an' your whole filthy crew ... I'mdone with you at last!"

  Thunder boomed sharply. The gloom was so deep that the features of themen she addressed could scarcely be made out.

  "You've tried to double-cross us from the first. You was as guilty asAlf today but you had it on us. I couldn't make a move without gettin'in worse.... You, Hilton, if it hadn't been for you, I'd have sent thebunch of you to hell by tellin' th' straight story when they came forAlf to-day! I ... I thought you loved me,"--gaspingly. "Ah! I thoughtyou loved me, an' I'd have let Alf go to jail alone because of it....

  "Well, it ain't too late! Listen, all of you! You HC riders, don't leta man move until I get through!"

  Her eyes, quick, alert, intent, ran from face to face before her andher whole body trembled as though the things that she would tellclamoured to be out and were held back by great effort until she couldmake them coherent.

  "Hepburn, you're first!"

  The man made one movement aside as if he would evade and Tom Beck'svoice rang out sharply:

  "Not a move!"

  Jane Hunter wheeled, a stifled word in her throat and watched himslowly advance. His face was drawn as by great suffering, his eyesburned as though his heart was wrenched with every beat. His mouth wasset and his jaw thrust forward and the revolver he held close againsthis hip was as steady as rock. He moved slowly forward.

  "Swing back there, you men,"--and at his gesture the HC ridersdeployed, swinging to either side. He stood beside the two girls at thepoint of a V, the sides of which were formed by cowboys and beyond theopening of which the other group drew together as for protection in theface of this coming storm. Hepburn was foremost and the true scoundrelnow glared through the mask of his benevolence.

  "Go on," Beck said
quietly.

  "You're first," the girl repeated, as though there had been nointerruption.

  "You planned to steal the HC blind, as soon as th' old owner died. Youdidn't have th' nerve to do it like I'd 've done it. You sent for us,because you knowed Alf had this brand which 'uld make stealin' easy!"

  "You're lying!"

  The man's voice was the merest croak, weak and unimpressive.

  "You wrote us, sayin' it would be easy pickin'. You said you wouldlikely be foreman an' that anyhow you'd be workin' for the HC an' wasgoin' to help us from the inside.

  "When Miss Hunter come an' you saw what she was like you was mightyglad of it. You thought you could ruin her an' pretend you was tryingto protect her. You was goin' to get half what we got for your share.

  "You had Webb run off them eight horses. Th' cat got out of the bag an'you had to bring 'em back to make good with Beck. I heard you tell Alfabout it the night you started out an' stayed with us. Beck suspectedyou, so you shot your own saddle horn to make your story good.

  "Beck wasn't satisfied. He was in your way, so you an' Webb framed up alie about him an' fixed his gun so it would look bad for him ... an' itdidn't work because Miss Hunter here beat you to it.

  "Then you threw in with Webb an' we was all goin' to work together anddrive the HC out in a rush.

  "You dynamited Cathedral Tank to spoil that range. Then somebody shotTwo-Bits an' you planned with us not to let her have water, knowin' hercattle would perish. I was glad enough to keep 'em from water thenbecause I thought ... I thought she wasn't ... what she is."

  She paused, panting, and brushed a quick hand at her tears.

  "Webb, you've been stealin' off th' HC for years."

  The man took a quick step forward and halted as gun hands jerked rigid.

  "You've been waitin' your chance. When Beck made you swallow your wordsabout Miss Hunter you went hog-wild to get him. You got carin' moreabout that than you did about gettin' rich.

  "You shot at Beck's bed to kill him when he slept. You broke herditches an' fired her hay with your own hands. You wrote that note,warnin' her to get out. You helped build this pen here an' you helpedsteal these calves an' every one of 'em was took away from an HC cow.You stole twenty head of horses that nobody knows about.

  "You an' Hepburn thought I didn't know a lot of this. Well, I did know!I knowed you was goin' to double-cross us if the pinch come an' Alf, hewas afraid of it, too!

  "I heard you talkin' nights in our place. I watched you ridin' when youdidn't know I was around. I listened an' remembered. I was one of you,but I didn't trust you. I wanted to steal from Miss Hunter. I wanted todrive her out because ... because I didn't know anybody could be kindto me like she's been. I never thought anybody'd do anythin' for me!"

  She stopped again to regain control of her surging emotions.

  "An' their riders, Miss Hunter"--half turning to look at the otherwoman. "They're a bunch of cut-throats. So are our greasers. They ain'tbeen in on the stealin'. They didn't care about bein' inside, but theywas ready to murder if they had a chance. They--Hepburn an' Webb--theythought that they was safe because every one of the rest had enoughover him to hang. If one squealed they'd all get caught....

  "Even us! Why, we never had any right on this claim. Alf's used hishomestead rights before, under another name. This water don't belong tous. Not by rights. It's all open range! That's what we was: t' worstnest of outlaws that ever got together in these hills!"

  She choked and Jane, her hands on the other's arms, could feel thetremors shooting through her lithe frame.

  Riley moved a step forward as thunder rolled heavily overhead, as ifthis much of the story was enough, but the girl cried out:

  "That ain't all! I've got to go through with it! I've finished with therest an' now it's you.... Hilton!"

  Into the word she put bitter contempt and biting scorn.

  "Bah! You liar!" she drawled. "You liar, you sneak, you coward! Youthought none of us could follow your game an' none of us could ...until now.

  "Why, you've been behind this whole thing. It was you called Hepburn totown an' offered him money to use in his dirty work. You paid for thisfence of ours. You listened an' used your head. You saw things quicker'n Hepburn an' Webb did, an' you set them two thinkin' an' they neverknew you was doin' it....

  "He was th' brains, I tell you!"--with an inclusive gesture to the menwho listened so attentively. "He wanted to drive Miss Hunter out worse'n anybody. He wanted to kill Tom Beck. He didn't have the nerve to doit himself ... in a fair fight. He shot at him one day with a rifle butjust as he shot Beck stopped his horse to look at somethin' in hishands, that locket he always wears an' is always lookin' at, Iguess.... He didn't know I saw that but I did....

  "He was always talkin' Sam McKee, there, up to kill Beck. It's likelyMcKee shot Two-Bits--"

  "He didn't! I didn't do it!"

  McKee's voice, an excited cackle, broke in on her but the girl,ignoring, went on:

  "... It was just like he tried to talk Webb an' Hepburn into killin'.That was his way: makin' other folks do th' things he was scared to do!

  "An' he was as slick with me as he was with them, with his lies aboutbeing called here to help Miss Hunter on business! That's why I didn'tthink all this out before, that's why I didn't think he was a sneakuntil now. He ... he said he wanted to marry ... to marry me...."

  She put a palm against her lips, tears spilled over her cheeks as sheturned. For a brief, heartbroken moment she stood looking into JaneHunter's face, then bowed her head to the other's shoulder and criedstormily.

  Beside the girls was a quick movement, a man uttering one explosiveword as though it gave vent to an emotion that had been pent deep inhis heart for long and while the black storm clouds seemed to shut downand muffle every sound, even Bobby Cole's excited sobbing, Tom Beckcried twice:

  "Jane!... Jane!"

  Bobby, at that, turned from Jane to her father and the mistress of theH C faced her foreman. When she had first seen him she betrayed littleexcept surprise; now she made one movement as though she would throwherself upon him but again the look in his face checked her.

  "You came back to me, Tom," she said.

  "Back," he answered.... "But I can't ever come back to ... you...."

  It was the miserable self loathing, the shame in his heart, whichspoke, and it was that which made her see him, not as the strong man hehad been but as a broken, penitent, self denying individual ... denyinghimself the love that was in her eyes, mingled with the relief at hisreturn and the joy of triumph which still thrilled her ... that lovewhich he felt unworthy to claim because he had doubted it!

  And then he changed. A movement sharp, decided, in the group, stiffenedhim.

  "Hold up!" he cried. "Don't one of you move! Jimmy, take two men to theGap. Hold everybody in this Hole until we can get the sheriff, this'llbe a clean-up for--"

  A blinding flare, a crash of thunder that tore sky and shook earth,broke in on him. There was a rending of tough timber as the bolt rippeddown a cedar, a snorting of horses. And in that stunning instant DickHilton leaped from the group, vaulted to his saddle and lashing thehorse frantically, made off.

  A revolver cracked, a rifle crashed. Hilton disappeared into a delugeof huge drops that came from the low, scudding clouds. Others got totheir horses and a fusillade of shots sounded like the ripping ofstrong cloth. And above it rang Jane Hunter's voice:

  "Tom! Oliver! Hold these men. I'll bring the sheriff! You can spare meand only me!"

  With a hoarse cry Riley dropped his revolver and clutched at hiswounded shoulder. Horses with riders and horses running wild circledthe place where a moment before had been a compact group of men, butnow Jane Hunter and Tom Beck stood there alone while from all aboutstabs of fire pricked the darkness or were lost as the sky blazed,while those who shot scarcely knew whether they were defendingthemselves from friend or foe.