The Lure of the Dim Trails

by B. M. Bower

  CHAPTER VI. THE BIG DIVIDE

  The long drive was nearly over. Even Thurston's eyes brightened whenhe saw, away upon the sky-line, the hills that squatted behind the homeranch of the Lazy Eight. The past month had been one of rapid livingunder new conditions, and at sight of them it seemed only a few dayssince he had first glimpsed that broken line of hills and the bachelorhousehold in the coulee below.

  As the travel-weary herd swung down the long hill into the valley of theMilk River, stepping out briskly as they sighted the cool water in thenear distance, the past month dropped away from Thurston, and what hadgone just before came back fresh as the happenings of the morning.There was the Stevens ranch, a scant half mile away from where the tentsalready gleamed on their last camp of the long trail; the smoke fromthe cook-tent telling of savory meats and puddings, the bare thought ofwhich made one hurry his horse.

  His eyes dwelt longest, however, upon the Stevens house half hiddenamong the giant cottonwoods, and he wondered if Mona would still smileat him with that unpleasant uplift at the corner of her red mouth. Hewould take care that she did not get the chance to smile at him in anyfashion, he told himself with decision.

  He wondered if those train-robbers had been captured, and if the onePark wounded was still alive. He shivered when he thought of the deadman in the aisle, and hoped he would never witness another death;involuntarily he glanced down at his right stirrup, half expecting tosee his boot red with human blood. It was not nice to remember thatscene, and he gave his shoulders an impatient hitch and tried to thinkof something else.

  Mindful of his vow, he had bought a gun in Billings, but he had not yetlearned to hit anything he aimed at; for firearms are hushed in roundupcamps, except when dire necessity breeds a law of its own. Range cattledo not take kindly to the popping of pistols. So Thurston's revolver wasyet unstained with powder grime, and was packed away inside his bed.He was promising his pride that he would go up on the hill, back of theLazy Eight corrals, and shoot until even Mona Stevens must respect hismarksmanship, when Park galloped back to him--"The world has moved somewhile we was gone," he announced in the tone of one who has news to telland enjoys thoroughly the telling. "Yuh mind the fellow I laid out inthe hold-up? He got all right again, and they stuck him in jail alongwith another one old Lauman, the sheriff, glommed a week ago. Well, theydidn't do a thing last night but knock a deputy in the head, annex hisgun, swipe a Winchester and a box uh shells out uh the office and hitthe high places. Old Lauman is hot on their trail, but he ain't metup with 'em yet, that anybody's heard. When he does, there'll sure besomething doing! They say the deputy's about all in; they smashed hisskull with a big iron poker."

  "I wish I could handle a gun," Thurston said between his teeth. "I'dgo after them myself. I wish I'd been left to grow up out here where Ibelong. I'm all West but the training--and I never knew it till a monthago! I ought to ride and rope and shoot with the best of you, and Ican't do a thing. All I know is books. I can criticize an opera and anew play, and I'm considered something of an authority on clothes, but Ican't shoot."

  "Aw, go easy," Park laughed at him. "What if yuh can't do thedouble-roll? Riding and shooting and roping's all right--we couldn'tvery well get along without them accomplishments. But that's all theyare; just accomplishments. We know a man when we see him, and it don'tmatter whether he can ride a bronk straight up, or don't know which waya saddle sets on a horse. If he's a man he gets as square a deal as wecan give him." Park reached for his cigarette book. "And as for huntingoutlaws," he finished, "we've got old Lauman paid to do that. And he'sdead onto his job, you bet; when he goes out after a man he comes prettynear getting him, m'son. But I sure do wish I'd killed that jasper whileI was about it; it would have saved Lauman a lot uh hard riding."

  Thurston could scarcely explain to Park that his desire to hunttrain-robbers was born of a half-defiant wish to vindicate to MonaStevens his courage, and so he said nothing at all. He wondered if Parkhad heard her whisper, that day, and knew how he had failed to obeyher commands; and if he had heard her call him a coward. He had oftenwondered that, but Park had a way of keeping things to himself, andThurston could never quite bring himself to open the subject boldly. Atany rate, if Park had heard, he hoped that he understood how it was anddid not secretly despise him for it. Women, he told himself bitterly,are never quite just.

  After the four o'clock supper he and Bob MacGregor went up the valleyto relieve the men on herd. There was one nice thing about Park as aforeman: he tried to pair off his crew according to their congeniality.That was why Thurston usually stood guard with Bob, whom he liked betterthan any of the others-always excepting Park himself.

  "I brought my gun along," Bob told him apologetically when they wereleft to themselves. "It's a habit I've got when I know there's bad menrampaging around the country. The boys kinda gave me the laugh whenthey seen me haul it out uh my war bag, but I just told 'em to go tothunder."

  "Do you think those--"

  "Naw. Uh course not. I just pack it on general principles, same as anold woman packs her umbrella."

  "Say, this is dead easy! The bunch is pretty well broke, ain't it? I'msure glad to see old Milk River again; this here trailing cattle getsplumb monotonous." He got down and settled his back comfortably againsta rock. Below them spread the herd, feeding quietly. "Yes, sir, this issure a snap," he repeated, after he had made himself a smoke. "They'sonly two ways a bunch could drift if they wanted to which they don't-upthe river, or down. This hill's a little too steep for 'em to tackleunless they was crowded hard. Good feed here, too.

  "Too bad yuh don't smoke, Bud. There's nothing like a good, smooth rockto your back and a cigarette in your face, on a nice, lazy day likethis. It's the only kind uh day-herding I got any use for."

  "I'll take the rock to my back, if you'll just slide along and makeroom," Thurston laughed. "I don't hanker for a cigarette, but I do wishI had my Kodak."

  "Aw, t'ell with your Kodak!" Bob snorted. "Can't yuh carry this layoutin your head? I've got a picture gallery in mine that I wouldn't tradefor a farm; I don't need no Kodak in mine, thankye. You just let thishere view soak into your system, Bud, where yuh can't lose it."

  Thurston did. Long after he could close his eyes and see it in everydetail; the long, green slope with hundreds of cattle loitering in therank grass-growth; the winding sweep of the river and the green, rollinghills beyond; and Bob leaning against the rock beside him, smokingluxuriously with half-closed eyes, while their horses dozed withdrooping heads a rein-length away.

  "Say, Bud," Bob's voice drawled sleepily, "I wisht you'd sing thatJerusalem song. I want to learn the words to it; I'm plumb stuck on thatpiece. It's different from the general run uh songs, don't yuh think?Most of 'em's about your old home that yuh left in boyhood's happy days,and go back to find your girl dead and sleeping in a little church-yardor else it's your mother; or your girl marries the other man and you getit handed to yuh right along--and they make a fellow kinda sick to hisstomach when he's got to sing 'em two or three hours at a stretch onnight-guard, just because he's plumb ignorant of anything better. Thishere Jerusalem one sounds kinda grand, and--the cattle seems to like it,too, for a change."

  "The composer would feel flattered if he heard that," Thurston laughed.He wanted to be left alone to day-dream and watch the clouds traillazily across to meet the hills; and there was an embryonic poemforming, phrase by phrase, in his mind. But he couldn't refuse Bobanything, so he sat a bit straighter and cleared his throat. He sangwell--well enough indeed to be sought after at informal affairs amonghis set at home. When he came to the refrain Bob took his cigarette frombetween his lips and held it in his fingers while he joined his voicelustily to Thurston's:

  "Jerusalem, Jerusalem, Lift up your gates and sing Hosanna in the high-est. Hosanna to your King!"

  The near cattle lifted their heads to stare stupidly a moment, thenmoved a few steps slowly, nosing for the sweetest grass-tufts. Thehorses shifted their weight, resting one leg w
ith the hoof barelytouching the earth, twitched their ears at the flies and slept again.

  "And then me thought my dream was changed, The streets no longer rang, Hushed were the glad Hosannas The little children sang--"

  Tamale lifted his head and gazed inquiringly up the hill; but Bob wasnot observant of signs just then. He was Striving with his recreantmemory for the words that came after:

  "The sun grew dark with mystery, The morn was cold and still, As the shadow of a cross arose Upon a lonely hill."

  Tamale stirred restlessly with head uplifted and ears pointed straightbefore up the steep bluff. Old Ironsides, Thurston's mount, was not thesort to worry about anything but his feed, and paid no attention. Bobturned and glanced the way Tamale was looking; saw nothing, and settleddown again on the small of his back.

  "He sees a badger or something," he Said. "Go on, Bud, with the chorus."

  "Jerusalem, Jerusalem, Lift up your gates and sing."

  "Lift up your hands damn quick!" mimicked a voice just behind. "If yuhain't got anything to do but lay in the shade of a rock and yawp, we'llborrow your cayuses. You ain't needin' 'em, by the looks!"

  They squirmed around until they could stare into two blackgun-barrels--and then their hands went up; their faces held aparticularly foolish expression that must have been amusing to the menbehind the guns.

  One of the gun-barrels lowered and a hand reached out and quietly tookpossession of Tamale's reins; the owner of the hand got calmly intoBob's saddle. Bob gritted his teeth. It was evident their movements hadbeen planned minutely in advance, for, once settled to his liking, thefellow tested the stirrups to make sure they were the right length, andraising his gun pointed it at the two in a business-like manner thatleft no doubt of his meaning. Whereupon the man behind them came forwardand appropriated Old Ironsides to his own use.

  "Too bad we had to interrupt Sunday-school," he remarked ironically."You can go ahead with the meetin' now--the collection has been tookup." He laughed without any real mirth in his voice and gathered up thereins. "If yuh want our horses, they're up on the bench. I don'treckon they'll ever turn another cow, but such as they are you're quitewelcome. Better set still, boys, till we get out uh sight; one of us'llkeep an eye peeled for yuh. So long, and much obliged." They turned androde warily down the slope.

  "Now, wouldn't that jar yuh?" asked Bob in deep disgust His handsdropped to his sides; in another second he was up and shooting savagely."Get behind the rock, Bud," he commanded.

  Just then a rifle cracked, and Bob toppled drunkenly and went limply tothe grass.

  "My God!" cried Thurston, and didn't know that he spoke. He snatched upBob's revolver and fired shot after shot at the galloping figures. Notone seemed to do any good; the first shot hit a two-year-old square inthe ribs. After that there were no cattle within rifle range.

  One of the outlaws stopped, took deliberate aim with the stolenWinchester and fired, meaning to kill; but he miscalculated the range abit and Thurston crumpled down with a bullet in his thigh. The revolverwas empty now and fell smoking at his feet. So he lay and cursedimpotently while he watched the marauders ride out of sight up thevalley.

  When the rank timber-growth hid their flying figures he crawled over towhere Bob lay and tried to lift him.

  "Art you hurt?" was the idiotic question he asked.

  Bob opened his eyes and waited a breath, as if to steady his thought."Did I get one, Bud?"

  "I'm afraid not," Thurston confessed, and immediately after wished thathe had lied and said yes. "Are you hurt?" he repeated senselessly.

  "Who, me?" Bob's eyes wavered in their directness. "Don't yuh bothernone about me," evasively.

  "But you've got to tell me. You--they--" He choked over the words.

  "Well--I guess they got me, all right. But don't let that worry yuh; itdon't me." He tried to speak carelessly and convincingly, but it wasa miserable failure. He did not want to die, did Bob, however much hemight try to hide the fact.

  Thurston was not in the least imposed upon. He turned away his head,pretending to look after the outlaws, and set his teeth together tight.He did not want to act a fool. All at once he grew dizzy and sick, andlay down heavily till the faintness passed.

  Bob tried to lift himself to his elbow; failing that, he put out a handand laid it on Thurston's shoulder. "Did they--get you--too?" he queriedanxiously.

  "The damn coyotes!"

  "It's nothing; just a leg put out of business," Thurston hurried toassure him. "Where are you hurt, Bob?"

  "Aw, I ain't any X-ray," Bob retorted weakly but gamely. "Somewheresinside uh me. It went in my side but the Lord knows where it woundup. It hurts, like the devil." He lay quiet a minute. "I wish--do yuhfeel--like finishing--that song, Bud?"

  Thurston gulped down a lump that was making his throat ache. When heanswered, his voice was very gentle:

  "I'll try a verse, old man."

  "The last one--we'd just come to the last. It's most like church. I--Inever went--much on religion, Bud; but when a fellow's--going out overthe Big Divide."

  "You're not!" Thurston contradicted fiercely, as if that could make itdifferent. He thought he could not bear those jerky sentences.

  "All right--Bud. We won't fight over it. Go ahead. The last verse."

  Thurston eased his leg to a better position, drew himself up till hisshoulders rested against the rock and began, with an occasional, oddbreak in his voice:

  "I saw the holy city Beside the tideless Sea; The light of God was on its street The gates were open wide. And all who would might enter And no one was denied."

  "Wonder if that there--applies--to bone-headed--cowpunchers," Bobmuttered drowsily. "'And all--who would--" Thurston glanced quickly athis face; caught his breath sharply at what he saw there written, anddropped his head upon his arms.

  And so Park and his men, hurrying to the sound of the shooting, foundthem in the shadow of the rock.