by Zane Grey
CHAPTER XIV
Spring came early that year at White Slides Ranch. The snow melted offthe valleys, and the wild flowers peeped from the greening grass whileyet the mountain domes were white. The long stone slides were glisteningwet, and the brooks ran full-banked, noisy and turbulent and roily.
Soft and fresh of color the gray old sage slopes came out from undertheir winter mantle; the bleached tufts of grass waved in the wind andshowed tiny blades of green at the roots; the aspens and oaks, and thevines on fences and cliffs, and the round-clumped, brook-borderingwillows took on a hue of spring.
The mustangs and colts in the pastures snorted and ran and kicked andcavorted; and on the hillsides the cows began to climb higher, searchingfor the tender greens, bawling for the new-born calves. Eagles shriekedthe release of the snow-bound peaks, and the elks bugled their piercingcalls. The grouse-cocks spread their gorgeous brown plumage in paradebefore their twittering mates, and the jays screeched in the woods, andthe sage-hens sailed along the bosom of the gray slopes.
Black bears, and browns, and grizzlies came out of their winter's sleep,and left huge, muddy tracks on the trails; the timber wolves at duskmourned their hungry calls for life, for meat, for the wildness that waspassing; the coyotes yelped at sunset, joyous and sharp and impudent.
But winter yielded reluctantly its hold on the mountains. The black,scudding clouds, and the squalls of rain and sleet and snow, whiteningand melting and vanishing, and the cold, clear nights, with cracklingfrost, all retarded the work of the warming sun. The day came, however,when the greens held their own with the grays; and this was theassurance of nature that spring could not be denied, and that summerwould follow.
* * * * *
Bent Wade was hiding in the willows along the trail that followed one ofthe brooks. Of late, on several mornings, he had skulked like an Indianunder cover, watching for some one. On this morning, when ColumbineBelllounds came riding along, he stepped out into the trail in frontof her.
"Oh, Ben! you startled me!" she exclaimed, as she held hard on thefrightened horse.
"Good mornin', Collie," replied Wade. "I'm sorry to scare you, but I'mparticular anxious to see you. An' considerin' how you avoid me thesedays, I had to waylay you in regular road-agent style."
Wade gazed up searchingly at her. It had been some time since he hadbeen given the privilege and pleasure of seeing her close at hand. Heneeded only one look at her to confirm his fears. The pale, sweet,resolute face told him much.
"Well, now you've waylaid me, what do you want?" she queried,deliberately.
"I'm goin' to take you to see Wils Moore," replied Wade, watching herclosely.
"No!" she cried, with the red staining her temples.
"Collie, see here. Did I ever oppose anythin' you wanted to do?"
"Not--yet," she said.
"I reckon you expect me to?"
She did not answer that. Her eyes drooped, and she nervously twisted thebridle reins.
"Do you doubt my--my good intentions toward you--my love for you?" heasked, in gentle and husky voice.
"Oh, Ben! No! No! It's that I'm afraid of your love for me! I can'tbear--what I have to bear--if I see you, if I listen to you."
"Then you've weakened? You're no proud, high-strung, thoroughbred girlany more? You're showin' yellow?"
"Ben Wade, I deny that," she answered, spiritedly, with an uplift of herhead. "It's not weakness, but strength I've found."
"Ahuh! Well, I reckon I understand. Collie, listen. Wils let me readyour last letter to him."
"I expected that. I think I told him to. Anyway, I wanted you toknow--what--what ailed me."
"Lass, it was a fine, brave letter--written by a girl facin' an upheavalof conscience an' soul. But in your own trouble you forget the effectthat letter might have on Wils Moore."
"Ben!... I--I've lain awake at night--Oh, was he hurt?"
"Collie, I reckon if you don't see Wils he'll kill himself or killBuster Jack," replied Wade, gravely.
"I'll see--him!" she faltered. "But oh, Ben--you don't mean that Wilsonwould be so base--so cowardly?"
"Collie, you're a child. You don't realize the depths to which a man cansink. Wils has had a long, hard pull this winter. My nursin' an' yourletters have saved his life. He's well, now, but that long, dark spellof mind left its shadow on him. He's morbid."
"What does he--want to see me--for?" asked Columbine, tremulously.There were tears in her eyes. "It'll only cause more pain--makematters worse."
"Reckon I don't agree with you. Wils just wants an' needs to _see_ you.Why, he appreciated your position. I've heard him cry like a woman overit an' our helplessness. What ails him is lovesickness, the awfulfeelin' which comes to a man who believes he has lost hissweetheart's love."
"Poor boy! So he imagines I don't love him any more? Good Heavens! Howstupid men are!... I'll see him, Ben. Take me to him."
For answer, Wade grasped the bridle of her horse and, turning him, tooka course leading away behind the hill that lay between them and theranch-house. The trail was narrow and brushy, making it necessary forhim to walk ahead of the horse. So the hunter did not speak to her orlook at her for some time. He plodded on with his eyes downcast.Something tugged at Wade's mind, an old, familiar, beckoning thing,vague and mysterious and black, a presage of catastrophe. But it wasonly an opening wedge into his mind. It had not entered. Gravity andunhappiness occupied him. His senses, nevertheless, were alert. He heardthe low roar of the flooded brook, the whir of rising grouse ahead, thehoofs of deer on stones, the song of spring birds. He had an eye alsofor the wan wild flowers in the shaded corners. Presently he led thehorse out of the willows into the open and up a low-swelling, long slopeof fragrant sage. Here he dropped back to Columbine's side and put hishand upon the pommel of her saddle. It was not long until her own handsoftly fell upon his and clasped it. Wade thrilled under the warm touch.How well he knew her heart! When she ceased to love any one to whom shehad given her love then she would have ceased to breathe.
"Lass, this isn't the first mornin' I've waited for you," he said,presently. "An' when I had to go back to Wils without you--well, itwas hard."
"Then he wants to see me--so badly?" she asked.
"Reckon you've not thought much about him or me lately," said Wade.
"No. I've tried to put you out of my mind. I've had so much to thinkof--why, even the sleepless nights have flown!"
"Are you goin' to confide in me--as you used to?"
"Ben, there's nothing to confide. I'm just where I left off in thatletter to Wilson. And the more I think the more muddled I get."
Wade greeted this reply with a long silence. It was enough to feel herhand upon his and to have the glad comfort and charm of her presenceonce more. He seemed to have grown older lately. The fragrant breath ofthe sage slopes came to him as something precious he must feel and lovemore. A haunting transience mocked him from these rolling gray hills.Old White Slides loomed gray and dark up into the blue, grim and sternreminder of age and of fleeting time. There was a cloud onWade's horizon.
"Wils is waitin' down there," said Wade, pointing to a grove of aspensbelow. "Reckon it's pretty close to the house, an' a trail runs alongthere. But Wils can't ride very well yet, an' this appeared to be thebest place."
"Ben, I don't care if dad or Jack know I've met Wilson. I'll tell them,"said Columbine.
"Ahuh! Well, if I were you I wouldn't," he replied.
They went down the slope and entered the grove. It was an open, prettyspot, with grass and wild flowers, and old, bleached logs, half sunnyand half shady under the new-born, fluttering aspen leaves. Wade sawMoore sitting on his horse. And it struck the hunter significantly thatthe cowboy should be mounted when an hour back he had left him sittingdisconsolately on a log. Moore wanted Columbine to see him first, afterall these months of fear and dread, mounted upon his horse. Wade heardColumbine's glad little cry, but he did not turn to look at her then.But when they reached the spot
where Moore stood Wade could not resistthe desire to see the meeting between the lovers.
Columbine, being a woman, and therefore capable of hiding agitation,except in moments of stress, met that trying situation with moreapparent composure than the cowboy. Moore's long, piercing gaze took therose out of Columbine's cheeks.
"Oh, Wilson! I'm so happy to see you on your horse again!" sheexclaimed. "It's too good to be true. I've prayed for that more thananything else. Can you get up into your saddle like you used to? Can youride well again?... Let me see your foot."
Moore held out a bulky foot. He wore a shoe, and it was slashed.
"I can't wear a boot," he explained.
"Oh, I see!" exclaimed Columbine, slowly, with her glad smile fading."You can't put that--that foot in a stirrup, can you?"
"No."
"But--it--it will--you'll be able to wear a boot soon," she implored.
"Never again, Collie," he said, sadly.
And then Wade perceived that, like a flash, the old spirit leaped up inColumbine. It was all he wanted to see.
"Now, folks," he said, "I reckon two's company an' three's a crowd. I'llgo off a little ways an' keep watch."
"Ben, you stay here," replied Columbine, hurriedly.
"Why, Collie? Are you afraid--or ashamed to be with me alone?" askedMoore, bitterly.
Columbine's eyes flashed. It was seldom they lost their sweettranquillity. But now they had depth and fire.
"No, Wilson, I'm neither afraid nor ashamed to be with you alone," shedeclared. "But I can be as natural--as much myself with Ben here as Icould be alone. Why can't you be? If dad and Jack heard of our meetingthe fact of Ben's presence might make it look different to them. And whyshould I heap trouble upon my shoulders?"
"I beg pardon, Collie," said the cowboy. "I've just been afraid of--ofthings."
"My horse is restless," returned Columbine. "Let's get off and talk."
So they dismounted. It warmed Wade's gloomy heart to see the woman-lookin Columbine's eyes as she watched the cowboy get off and walk. For acrippled man he did very well. But that moment was fraught with meaningfor Wade. These unfortunate lovers, brave and fine in their suffering,did not realize the peril they invited by proximity. But Wade knew. Hepitied them, he thrilled for them, he lived their torture with them.
"Tell me--everything," said Columbine, impulsively.
Moore, with dragging step, approached an aspen log that lay off theground, propped by the stump, and here he leaned for support. Columbinelaid her gloves on the log.
"There's nothing to tell that you don't know," replied Moore. "I wroteyou all there was to write, except"--here he dropped his head--"exceptthat the last three weeks have been hell."
"They've not been exactly heaven for me," replied Columbine, with alittle laugh that gave Wade a twinge.
Then the lovers began to talk about spring coming, about horses andcattle, and feed, about commonplace ranch matters not interesting tothem, but which seemed to make conversation and hide their truethoughts. Wade listened, and it seemed to him that he could readtheir hearts.
"Lass, an' you, Wils--you're wastin' time an' gettin' nowhere,"interposed Wade. "Now let me go, so's you'll be alone."
"You stay right there," ordered Moore.
"Why, Ben, I'm ashamed to say that I actually forgot you were here,"said Columbine.
"Then I'll remind you," rejoined the hunter. "Collie, tell us about OldBill an' Jack."
"Tell you? What?"
"Well, I've seen changes in both. So has Wils, though Wils hasn't seenas much as he's heard from Lem an' Montana an' the Andrews boys."
"Oh!..." Columbine choked a little over her exclamation ofunderstanding. "Dad has gotten a new lease on life, I guess. He's happy,like a boy sometimes, an' good as gold.... It's all because of thechange in Jack. That is remarkable. I've not been able to believe my owneyes. Since that night Jack came home and had the--the understandingwith dad he has been another person. He has left me alone. He treats mewith deference, but not a familiar word or look. He's kind. He offersthe little civilities that occur, you know. But he never intrudes uponme. Not one word of the past! It is as if he would earn my respect, andhave that or nothing.... Then he works as he never worked before--ondad's books, in the shop, out on the range. He seems obsessed with somethought all the time. He talks little. All the old petulance, obstinacy,selfishness, and especially his sudden, queer impulses, and bull-headedtenacity--all gone! He has suffered physical distress, because he neverwas used to hard work. And more, he's suffered terribly for the want ofliquor. I've heard him say to dad: 'It's hell--this burning thirst. Inever knew I had it. I'll stand it, if it kills me.... But wouldn't itbe easier on me to take a drink now and then, at these bad times?'...And dad said: 'No, son. Break off for keeps! This taperin' off is nogood way to stop drinkin'. Stand the burnin'. An' when it's gone you'llbe all the gladder an' I'll be all the prouder.'... I have not forgottenall Jack's former failings, but I am forgetting them, little by little.For dad's sake I'm overjoyed. For Jack's I am glad. I'm convinced nowthat he's had his lesson--that he's sowed his wild oats--that he hasbecome a man."
Moore listened eagerly, and when she had concluded he thoughtfully benthis head and began to cut little chips out of the log with his knife.
"Collie, I've heard a good deal of the change in Jack," he said,earnestly. "Honest Injun, I'm glad--glad for his father's sake, for hisown, and for yours. The boys think Jack's locoed. But his reformation isnot strange to me. If I were no good--just like he was--well, I couldchange as greatly for--for you."
Columbine hastily averted her face. Wade's keen eyes, apparently hiddenunder his old hat, saw how wet her lashes were, how her lips trembled.
"Wilson, you think then--you believe Jack will last--will stick to hisnew ways?" she queried, hurriedly.
"Yes, I do," he replied, nodding.
"How good of you! Oh! Wilson, it's like you to be noble--splendid. Whenyou might have--when it'd have been so natural for you to doubt--toscorn him!"
"Collie, I'm honest about that. And now you be just as honest. Do youthink Jack will stand to his colors? Never drink--never gamble--neverfly off the handle again?"
"Yes, I honestly believe that--providing he gets--providing I--"
Her voice trailed off faintly.
Moore wheeled to address the hunter.
"Pard, what do you think? Tell me now. Tell us. It will help me, andCollie, too. I've asked you before, but you wouldn't--Tell us now, doyou believe Buster Jack will live up to his new ideals?"
Wade had long parried that question, because the time to answer it hadnot come till this moment.
"No," he replied, gently.
Columbine uttered a little cry.
"Why not?" demanded Moore, his face darkening.
"Reckon there are reasons that you young folks wouldn't think of, an'couldn't know."
"Wade, it's not like you to be hopeless for any man," said Moore.
"Yes, I reckon it is, sometimes," replied Wade, wagging his headsolemnly. "Young folks, I'm grantin' all you say as to Jack'sreformation, except that it's permanent. I'm grantin' he's sincere--thathe's not playin' a part--that his vicious instincts are smothered undera noble impulse to be what he ought to be. It's no trick. Buster Jackhas all but done the impossible."
"Then why isn't his sincerity and good work to be permanent?" askedMoore, impatiently, and his gesture was violent.
"Wils, his change is not moral force. It's passion."
The cowboy paled. Columbine stood silent, with intent eyes upon thehunter. Neither of them seemed to understand him well enough tomake reply.
"Love can work marvels in any man," went on Wade. "But love can't changethe fiber of a man's heart. A man is born so an' so. He loves an' hatesan' feels accordin' to the nature. It'd be accordin' to nature for JackBelllounds to stay reformed if his love for Collie lasted. An' that'sthe point. It can't last. Not in a man of his stripe."
"Why not?" demanded Moore.
"B
ecause Jack's love will never be returned--satisfied. It takes a manof different caliber to love a woman who'll never love him. Jack'sobsessed by passion now. He'd perform miracles. But that's not possible.The miracle necessary here would be for him to change his moral force,his blood, the habits of his mind. That's beyond his power."
Columbine flung out an appealing hand.
"Ben, I could pretend to love him--I might _make_ myself love him, ifthat would give him the power."
"Lass, don't delude yourself. You can't do that," replied Wade.
"How do you know what I can do?" she queried, struggling with herhelplessness.
"Why, child, I know you better than you know yourself."
"Wilson, he's right, he's right!" she cried. "That's why it's soterrible for me now. He knows my very heart. He reads my soul.... I can_never_ love Jack Belllounds. Nor _ever_ pretend love!"
"Collie, if Ben knows you so well, you ought to listen to him, as youused to," said Moore, touching her hand with infinite sympathy.
Wade watched them. His pity and affection did not obstruct the ruthlessexpression of his opinions or the direction of his intentions.
"Lass, an' you, Wils, listen," he said, with all his gentleness. "It'sbad enough without you makin' it worse. Don't blind yourselves. That'sthe hell with so many people in trouble. It's hard to see clear whenyou're sufferin' and fightin'. But _I_ see clear.... Now with just aword I could fetch this new Jack Belllounds back to his BusterJack tricks!"
"Oh, Ben! No! No! No!" cried Columbine, in a distress that showed howhis force dominated her.
Moore's face turned as white as ashes.
Wade divined then that Moore was aware of what he himself knew aboutJack Belllounds. And to his love for Moore was added aninfinite respect.
"I won't unless Collie forces me to," he said, significantly.
This was the critical moment, and suddenly Wade answered to it withoutrestraint. He leaped up, startling Columbine.
"Wils, you call me pard, don't you? I reckon you never knew me. Why, thegame's `most played out, an' I haven't showed my hand!... I'd see JackBelllounds in hell before I'd let him have Collie. An' if she carriedout her strange an' lofty idea of duty--an' married him right thisafternoon--I could an' I would part them before night!"
He ended that speech in a voice neither had ever heard him use before.And the look of him must have been in harmony with it. Columbine,wide-eyed and gasping, seemed struck to the heart. Moore's white faceshowed awe and fear and irresponsible primitive joy. Wade turned awayfrom them, the better to control the passion that had mastered him. Andit did not subside in an instant. He paced to and fro, his head bowed.Presently, when he faced around, it was to see what he had expectedto see.
Columbine was clasped in Moore's arms.
"Collie, you didn't--you haven't--promised to marry him--again!"
"No, oh--no! I haven't! I was only--only trying to--to make up my mind.Wilson, don't look at me so terribly!"
"You'll not agree again? You'll not set another day?" demanded Moore,passionately. He strained her to him, yet held her so he could see herface, thus dominating her with both strength and will. His face wascorded now, and darkly flushed. His jaw quivered. "You'll never marryJack Belllounds! You'll not let sudden impulse--sudden persuasion orforce change you? Promise! Swear you'll never marry him. Swear!"
"Oh, Wilson, I promise--I swear!" she cried. "Never! I'm yours. It wouldbe a sin. I've been mad to--to blind myself."
"You love me! You love me!" he cried, in a sudden transport.
"Oh, yes, yes! I do."
"Say it then! Say it--so I'll never doubt--never suffer again!"
"I love you, Wilson! I--I love you--unutterably," the whispered. "I loveyou--so--I'm broken-hearted now. I'll never live without you. I'lldie--I love you so!"
"You--you flower--you angel!" he whispered in return. "You woman! Youprecious creature! I've been crazed at loss of you!"
Wade paced out of earshot, and this time he remained away for aconsiderable time. He lived again moments of his own past, unforgetableand sad. When at length he returned toward the young couple they weresitting apart, composed once more, talking earnestly. As he neared themColumbine rose to greet him with wonderful eyes, in which reproachblended with affection.
"Ben, so this is what you've done!" she exclaimed.
"Lass, I'm only a humble instrument, an' I believe God guides me right,"replied the hunter.
"I love you more, it seems, for what you make me suffer," she said, andshe kissed him with a serious sweetness. "I'm only a leaf in the storm.But--let what will come.... Take me home."
They said good-by to Wilson, who sat with head bowed upon his hands. Hisvoice trembled as he answered them. Wade found the trail while Columbinemounted. As they went slowly down the gentle slope, stepping over thenumerous logs fallen across the way, Wade caught out of the tail of hiseye a moving object along the outer edge of the aspen grove above them.It was the figure of a man, skulking behind the trees. He disappeared.Wade casually remarked to Columbine that now she could spur the pony andhurry on home. But Columbine refused. When they got a little farther on,out of sight of Moore and somewhat around to the left, Wade espied theman again. He carried a rifle. Wade grew somewhat perturbed.
"Collie, you run on home," he said, sharply.
"Why? You've complained of not seeing me. Now that I want to be with you... Ben, you see some one!"
Columbine's keen faculties evidently sensed the change in Wade, and thedirection of his uneasy glance convinced her.
"Oh, there's a man!... Ben, it is--yes, it's Jack," she exclaimed,excitedly.
"Reckon you'd have it better if you say Buster Jack," replied Wade, withhis tragic smile.
"Ah!" whispered Columbine, as she gazed up at the aspen slope, with eyeslighting to battle.
"Run home, Collie, an' leave him to me," said Wade.
"Ben, you mean he--he saw us up there in the grove? Saw me in Wilson'sarms--saw me kissing him?"
"Sure as you're born, Collie. He watched us. He saw all yourlove-makin'. I can tell that by the way he walks. It's Buster Jackagain! Alas for the new an' noble Jack! I told you, Collie. Now you runon an' leave him to me."
Wade became aware that she turned at his last words and regarded himattentively. But his gaze was riveted on the striding form ofBelllounds.
"Leave him to you? For what reason, my friend?" she asked.
"Buster Jack's on the rampage. Can't you see that? He'll insult you.He'll--"
"I will not go," interrupted Columbine, and, halting her pony, shedeliberately dismounted.
Wade grew concerned with the appearance of young Belllounds, and it waswith a melancholy reminder of the infallibility of his presentiments. Ashe and Columbine halted in the trail, Belllounds's hurried stridelengthened until he almost ran. He carried the rifle forward in a mostsignificant manner. Black as a thunder-cloud was his face. Alas for thedignity and pain and resolve that had only recently showed there!
Belllounds reached them. He was frothing at the mouth. He cocked therifle and thrust it toward Wade, holding low down.
"You--meddling sneak! If you open your trap I'll bore you!" he shouted,almost incoherently.
Wade knew when danger of life loomed imminent. He fixed his glance uponthe glaring eyes of Belllounds.
"Jack, seein' I'm not packin' a gun, it'd look sorta natural, along withyour other tricks, if you bored me."
His gentle voice, his cool mien, his satire, were as giant's arms todrag Belllounds back from murder. The rifle was raised, the hammerreset, the butt lowered to the ground, while Belllounds, snarling andchoking, fought for speech.
"I'll get even--with you," he said, huskily. "I'm on to your game now.I'll fix you later. But--I'll do you harm now if you mix in with this!"
Then he wheeled to Columbine, and as if he had just recognized her, achange that was pitiful and shocking convulsed his face. He leanedtoward her, pointing with shaking, accusing hand.
"I saw you--up th
ere. I watched--you," he panted.
Columbine faced him, white and mute.
"It was you--wasn't it?" he yelled.
"Yes, of course it was."
She might have struck him, for the way he flinched.
"What was that--a trick--a game--a play all fixed up for my benefit?"
"I don't understand you," she replied.
"Bah! You--you white-faced cat!... I saw you! Saw you in Moore's arms!Saw him hug you--kiss you!... Then--I saw--you put up your arms--roundhis neck--kiss him--kiss him--kiss him!... I saw all that--didn't I?"
"You must have, since you say so," she returned, with perfect composure.
"But _did_ you?" he almost shrieked, the blood cording and bulging red,as if about to burst the veins of temples and neck.
"Yes, I did," she flashed. There was primitive woman uppermost in hernow, and a spirit no man might provoke with impunity.
"_You love him?_" he asked, very low, incredulously, with almost insaneeagerness for denial in his query.
Then Wade saw the glory of her--saw her mother again in that proud,fierce uplift of face, that flamed red and then blazed white--saw hateand passion and love in all their primal nakedness.
"Love him! Love Wilson Moore? Yes, you fool! I love him! Yes! _Yes!_YES!"
That voice would have pierced the heart of a wooden image, so Wadethought, as all his strung nerves quivered and thrilled.
Belllounds uttered a low cry of realization, and all his instinctiveenergy seemed on the verge of collapse. He grew limp, he sagged, hetottered. His sensorial perceptions seemed momentarily blunted.
Wade divined the tragedy, and a pang of great compassion overcame him.Whatever Jack Belllounds was in character, he had inherited his father'spower to love, and he was human. Wade felt the death in that strickensoul, and it was the last flash of pity he ever had for Jack Belllounds.
"You--you--" muttered Belllounds, raising a hand that gathered speed andstrength in the action. The moment of a great blow had passed, like astorm-blast through a leafless tree. Now the thousand devils of hisnature leaped into ascendancy. "You!--" He could not articulate. Darkand terrible became his energy. It was like a resistless current forcedthrough leaping thought and leaping muscle.
He struck her on the mouth, a cruel blow that would have felled her butfor Wade: and then he lunged away, bowed and trembling, yet with fierce,instinctive motion, as if driven to run with the spirit of his rage.