The Rustlers of Pecos County

by Zane Grey

  Chapter 3

  SOUNDING THE TIMBER

  When Steele left the hall, pushing Snell before him, making a lanethrough the crowd, it was not any longer possible to watch everybody.

  Yet now he seemed to ignore the men behind him. Any friend of Snell'samong the vicious element might have pulled a gun. I wondered if Steeleknew how I watched those men at his back--how fatal it would have beenfor any of them to make a significant move.

  No--I decided that Steele trusted to the effect his boldness hadcreated. It was this power to cow ordinary men that explained so many ofhis feats; just the same it was his keenness to read desperate men, hisnerve to confront them, that made him great.

  The crowd followed Steele and his captive down the middle of the mainstreet and watched him secure a team and buckboard and drive off on theroad to Sanderson.

  Only then did that crowd appear to realize what had happened. Then mylong-looked-for opportunity arrived. In the expression of silent menI found something which I had sought; from the hurried departure ofothers homeward I gathered import; on the husky, whispering lips of yetothers I read words I needed to hear.

  The other part of that crowd--to my surprise, the smaller part--was theroaring, threatening, complaining one.

  Thus I segregated Linrock that was lawless from Linrock that wanted law,but for some reason not yet clear the latter did not dare to voice theirchoice.

  How could Steele and I win them openly to our cause? If that could bedone long before the year was up Linrock would be free of violence andCaptain Neal's Ranger Service saved to the State.

  I went from place to place, corner to corner, bar to bar, watching,listening, recording; and not until long after sunset did I go out tothe ranch.

  The excitement had preceded me and speculation was rife. Hurryingthrough my supper, to get away from questions and to go on with myspying, I went out to the front of the house.

  The evening was warm; the doors were open; and in the twilight the onlylamps that had been lit were in Sampson's big sitting room at the farend of the house. Neither Sampson nor Wright had come home to supper.

  I would have given much to hear their talk right then, and certainlyintended to try to hear it when they did come home.

  When the buckboard drove up and they alighted I was well hidden in thebushes, so well screened that I could get but a fleeting glimpse ofSampson as he went in.

  For all I could see, he appeared to be a calm and quiet man, intensebeneath the surface, with an air of dignity under insult. My chance toobserve Wright was lost.

  They went into the house without speaking, and closed the door.

  At the other end of the porch, close under a window, was an offsetbetween step and wall, and there in the shadow I hid. If Sampson orWright visited the girls that evening I wanted to hear what was saidabout Steele.

  It seemed to me that it might be a good clue for me--the circumstancewhether or not Diane Sampson was told the truth. So I waited there inthe darkness with patience born of many hours of like duty.

  Presently the small lamp was lit--I could tell the difference in lightwhen the big one was burning--and I heard the swish of skirts.

  "Something's happened, surely, Sally," I heard Miss Sampson sayanxiously. "Papa just met me in the hall and didn't speak. He seemedpale, worried."

  "Cousin George looked like a thundercloud," said Sally. "For once, hedidn't try to kiss me. Something's happened. Well, Diane, this has beena bad day for me, too."

  Plainly I heard Sally's sigh, and the little pathetic sound brought mevividly out of my sordid business of suspicion and speculation. So shewas sorry.

  "Bad for you, too?" replied Diane in amused surprise. "Oh, I see--Iforgot. You and Russ had it out."

  "Out? We fought like the very old deuce. I'll never speak to him again."

  "So your little--affair with Russ is all over?"

  "Yes." Here she sighed again.

  "Well, Sally, it began swiftly and it's just as well short," said Dianeearnestly. "We know nothing at all of Russ."

  "Diane, after to-day I respect him in--in spite of things--even thoughhe seems no good. I--I cared a lot, too."

  "My dear, your loves are like the summer flowers. I thought maybe yourflirting with Russ might amount to something. Yet he seems so differentnow from what he was at first. It's only occasionally I get theimpression I had of him after that night he saved me from violence. He'sstrange. Perhaps it all comes of his infatuation for you. He is in lovewith you. I'm afraid of what may come of it."

  "Diane, he'll do something dreadful to George, mark my words,"whispered Sally. "He swore he would if George fooled around me anymore."

  "Oh, dear. Sally, what can we do? These are wild men. George makes lifemiserable for me. And he teases you unmer..."

  "I don't call it teasing. George wants to spoon," declared Sallyemphatically. "He'd run after any woman."

  "A fine compliment to me, Cousin Sally," laughed Diane.

  "I don't agree," replied Sally stubbornly. "It's so. He's spoony. Andwhen he's been drinking and tries to kiss me, I hate him."

  "Sally, you look as if you'd rather like Russ to do something dreadfulto George," said Diane with a laugh that this time was only half mirth.

  "Half of me would and half of me would not," returned Sally. "But allof me would if I weren't afraid of Russ. I've got a feeling--I don'tknow what--something will happen between George and Russ some day."

  There were quick steps on the hall floor, steps I thought I recognized.

  "Hello, girls!" sounded out Wright's voice, minus its usual gaiety. Thenensued a pause that made me bring to mind a picture of Wright's glumface.

  "George, what's the matter?" asked Diane presently. "I never saw papa ashe is to-night, nor you so--so worried. Tell me, what has happened?"

  "Well, Diane, we had a jar to-day," replied Wright, with a blunt,expressive laugh.

  "Jar?" echoed both the girls curiously.

  "Jar? We had to submit to a damnable outrage," added Wrightpassionately, as if the sound of his voice augmented his feeling."Listen, girls. I'll tell you all about it."

  He coughed, clearing his throat in a way that betrayed he had beendrinking.

  I sunk deeper in the shadow of my covert, and stiffening my muscles fora protracted spell of rigidity, prepared to listen with all acutenessand intensity.

  Just one word from this Wright, inadvertently uttered in a moment ofpassion, might be the word Steele needed for his clue.

  "It happened at the town hall," began Wright rapidly. "Your father andJudge Owens and I were there in consultation with three ranchers fromout of town. First we were disturbed by gunshots from somewhere, but notclose at hand. Then we heard the loud voices outside.

  "A crowd was coming down street. It stopped before the hall. Men camerunning in, yelling. We thought there was a fire. Then that Ranger,Steele, stalked in, dragging a fellow by the name of Snell. We couldn'ttell what was wanted because of the uproar. Finally your father restoredorder.

  "Steele had arrested Snell for alleged assault on a restaurant keepernamed Hoden. It developed that Hoden didn't accuse anybody, didn't knowwho attacked him. Snell, being obviously innocent, was discharged. Thenthis--this gun fighting Ranger pulled his guns on the court and haltedthe proceedings."

  When Wright paused I plainly heard his intake of breath. Far indeed washe from calm.

  "Steele held everybody in that hall in fear of death, and he beganshouting his insults. Law was a farce in Linrock. The court was a farce.There was no law. Your father's office as mayor should be impeached. Hemade arrests only for petty offenses. He was afraid of the rustlers,highwaymen, murderers. He was afraid or--he just let them alone. He usedhis office to cheat ranchers and cattlemen in law-suits.

  "All of this Steele yelled for everyone to hear. A damnable outrage!Your father, Diane, insulted in his own court by a rowdy Ranger! Notonly insulted, but threatened with death--two big guns thrust almostin his face!"

  "Oh! How horrible!" cr
ied Diane, in mingled distress and anger.

  "Steele's a Ranger. The Ranger Service wants to rule western Texas,"went on Wright. "These Rangers are all a low set, many of them worsethan the outlaws they hunt. Some of them were outlaws and gun fightersbefore they became Rangers.

  "This Steele is one of the worst of the lot. He's keen, intelligent,smooth, and that makes him more to be feared. For he is to be feared. Hewanted to kill. He meant to kill. If your father had made the least moveSteele would have shot him. He's a cold-nerved devil--the born gunman.My God, any instant I expected to see your father fall dead at my feet!"

  "Oh, George! The--the unspeakable ruffian!" cried Diane, passionately.

  "You see, Diane, this fellow Steele has failed here in Linrock. He'sbeen here weeks and done nothing. He must have got desperate. He'sinfamous and he loves his name. He seeks notoriety. He made that playwith Snell just for a chance to rant against your father. He tried toinflame all Linrock against him. That about law-suits was the worst!Damn him! He'll make us enemies."

  "What do you care for the insinuations of such a man?" said DianeSampson, her voice now deep and rich with feeling. "After a moment'sthought no one will be influenced by them. Do not worry, George, tellpapa not to worry. Surely after all these years he can't be injured inreputation by--by an adventurer."

  "Yes, he can be injured," replied George quickly. "The frontier is aqueer place. There are many bitter men here, men who have failed atranching. And your father has been wonderfully successful. Steele hasdropped some poison, and it'll spread."

  Then followed a silence, during which, evidently, the worried Wrightbestrode the floor.

  "Cousin George, what became of Steele and his prisoner?" suddenly askedSally.

  How like her it was, with her inquisitive bent of mind and shiftingpoints of view, to ask a question the answering of which would be galland wormwood to Wright!

  It amused while it thrilled me. Sally might be a flirt, but she was nofool.

  "What became of them? Ha! Steele bluffed the whole town--at least all ofit who had heard the mayor's order to discharge Snell," growled Wright."He took Snell--rode off for Del Rio to jail him."

  "George!" exclaimed Diane. "Then, after all, this Ranger was able toarrest Snell, the innocent man father discharged, and take him to jail?"

  "Exactly. That's the toughest part...." Wright ended abruptly, and thenbroke out fiercely: "But, by God, he'll never come back!"

  Wright's slow pacing quickened and he strode from the parlor, leavingbehind him a silence eloquent of the effect of his sinister prediction.

  "Sally, what did he mean?" asked Diane in a low voice.

  "Steele will be killed," replied Sally, just as low-voiced.

  "Killed! That magnificent fellow! Ah, I forgot. Sally, my wits are sadlymixed. I ought to be glad if somebody kills my father's defamer. But,oh, I can't be!

  "This bloody frontier makes me sick. Papa doesn't want me to stay forgood. And no wonder. Shall I go back? I hate to show a white feather.

  "Do you know, Sally, I was--a little taken with this Texas Ranger.Miserably, I confess. He seemed so like in spirit to the grand statureof him. How can so splendid a man be so bloody, base at heart? It'shideous. How little we know of men! I had my dream about Vaughn Steele.I confess because it shames me--because I hate myself!"

  Next morning I awakened with a feeling that I was more like my old self.In the experience of activity of body and mind, with a prospect thatthis was merely the forerunner of great events, I came round to my ownagain.

  Sally was not forgotten; she had just become a sorrow. So perhaps mydownfall as a lover was a precursor of better results as an officer.

  I held in abeyance my last conclusion regarding Sampson and Wright, andonly awaited Steele's return to have fixed in mind what these men were.

  Wright's remark about Steele not returning did not worry me. I had heardmany such dark sayings in reference to Rangers.

  Rangers had a trick of coming back. I did not see any man or men on thepresent horizon of Linrock equal to the killing of Steele.

  As Miss Sampson and Sally had no inclination to ride, I had even morefreedom. I went down to the town and burst, cheerily whistling, into JimHoden's place.

  Jim always made me welcome there, as much for my society as for themoney I spent, and I never neglected being free with both. I boughta handful of cigars and shoved some of them in his pocket.

  "How's tricks, Jim?" I asked cheerily.

  "Reckon I'm feelin' as well as could be expected," replied Jim. His headwas circled by a bandage that did not conceal the lump where he had beenstruck. Jim looked a little pale, but he was bright enough.

  "That was a hell of a biff Snell gave you, the skunk," I remarked withthe same cheery assurance.

  "Russ, I ain't accusin' Snell," remonstrated Jim with eyes that made methoughtful.

  "Sure, I know you're too good a sport to send a fellow up. But Snelldeserved what he got. I saw his face when he made his talk to Sampson'scourt. Snell lied. And I'll tell you what, Jim, if it'd been me insteadof that Ranger, Bud Snell would have got settled."

  Jim appeared to be agitated by my forcible intimation of friendship.

  "Jim, that's between ourselves," I went on. "I'm no fool. And much as Iblab when I'm hunky, it's all air. Maybe you've noticed that about me.In some parts of Texas it's policy to be close-mouthed. Policy andhealthy. Between ourselves, as friends, I want you to know I lean someon Steele's side of the fence."

  As I lighted a cigar I saw, out of the corner of my eye, how Hoden gavea quick start. I expected some kind of a startling idea to flash intohis mind.

  Presently I turned and frankly met his gaze. I had startled him out ofhis habitual set taciturnity, but even as I looked the light that mighthave been amaze and joy faded out of his face, leaving it the same oldmask.

  Still I had seen enough. Like a bloodhound, I had a scent. "Thet'sfunny, Russ, seein' as you drift with the gang Steele's bound to fight,"remarked Hoden.

  "Sure. I'm a sport. If I can't gamble with gentlemen I'll gamble withrustlers."

  Again he gave a slight start, and this time he hid his eyes.

  "Wal, Russ, I've heard you was slick," he said.

  "You tumble, Jim. I'm a little better on the draw."

  "On the draw? With cards, an' gun, too, eh?"

  "Now, Jim, that last follows natural. I haven't had much chance to showhow good I am on the draw with a gun. But that'll come soon."

  "Reckon thet talk's a little air," said Hoden with his dry laugh. "Sameas you leanin' a little on the Ranger's side of the fence."

  "But, Jim, wasn't he game? What'd you think of that stand? Bluffed thewhole gang! The way he called Sampson--why, it was great! The justice ofthat call doesn't bother me. It was Steele's nerve that got me. That'dwarm any man's blood."

  There was a little red in Hoden's pale cheeks and I saw him swallowhard. I had struck deep again.

  "Say, don't you work for Sampson?" he queried.

  "Me? I _guess_ not. I'm Miss Sampson's man. He and Wright have tried tofire me many a time."

  "Thet so?" he said curiously. "What for?"

  "Too many silver trimmings on me, Jim. And I pack my gun low down."

  "Wal, them two don't go much together out here," replied Hoden. "But Iain't seen thet anyone has shot off the trimmin's."

  "Maybe it'll commence, Jim, as soon as I stop buying drinks. Talkingabout work--who'd you say Snell worked for?"

  "I didn't say."

  "Well, say so now, can't you? Jim, you're powerful peevish to-day. It'sthe bump on your head. Who does Snell work for?"

  "When he works at all, which sure ain't often, he rides for Sampson."

  "Humph! Seems to me, Jim, that Sampson's the whole circus round Linrock.I was some sore the other day to find I was losing good money atSampson's faro game. Sure if I'd won I wouldn't have been sorry, eh? ButI was surprised to hear some scully say Sampson owned the Hope So dive."

  "I've heard he owned consid
erable property hereabouts," replied Jimconstrainedly.

  "Humph again! Why, Jim, you _know_ it, only like every other scully youmeet in this town, you're afraid to open your mug about Sampson. Get mestraight, Jim Hoden. I don't care a damn for Colonel Mayor Sampson. Andfor cause I'd throw a gun on him just as quick as on any rustler inPecos."

  "Talk's cheap, my boy," replied Hoden, making light of my bluster, butthe red was deep in his face.

  "Sure, I know that," I said, calming down. "My temper gets up, Jim. Thenit's not well known that Sampson owns the Hope So?"

  "Reckon it's known in Pecos, all right. But Sampson's name isn'tconnected with the Hope So. Blandy runs the place."

  "That Blandy--I've got no use for him. His faro game's crooked, or I'mlocoed bronc. Not that we don't have lots of crooked faro dealers. Afellow can stand for them. But Blandy's mean, back handed, never looksyou in the eyes. That Hope So place ought to be run by a good fellowlike you, Hoden."

  "Thanks, Russ," replied he, and I imagined his voice a little husky."Didn't you ever hear _I_ used to run it?"

  "No. Did you?" I said quickly.

  "I reckon. I built the place, made additions twice, owned it for elevenyears."

  "Well, I'll be doggoned!"

  It was indeed my turn to be surprised, and with the surprise cameglimmering.

  "I'm sorry you're not there now, Jim. Did you sell out?"

  "No. Just lost the place."

  Hoden was bursting for relief now--to talk--to tell. Sympathy had madehim soft. I did not need to ask another question.

  "It was two years ago--two years last March," he went on. "I was in abig cattle deal with Sampson. We got the stock, an' my share, eighteenhundred head, was rustled off. I owed Sampson. He pressed me. It come toa lawsuit, an' I--was ruined."

  It hurt me to look at Hoden. He was white, and tears rolled down hischeeks.

  I saw the bitterness, the defeat, the agony of the man. He had failed tomeet his obligation; nevertheless he had been swindled.

  All that he suppressed, all that would have been passion had the man'sspirit not been broken, lay bare for me to see. I had now the secret ofhis bitterness.

  But the reason he did not openly accuse Sampson, the secret of hisreticence and fear--these I thought best to try to learn at some latertime, after I had consulted with Steele.

  "Hard luck! Jim, it certainly was tough," I said. "But you're a goodloser. And the wheel turns!

  "Now, Jim, here's what I come particular to see you for. I need youradvice. I've got a little money. Between you and me, as friends, I'vebeen adding some to that roll all the time. But before I lose it I wantto invest some. Buy some stock or buy an interest in some rancher'sherd.

  "What I want you to steer me on is a good, square rancher. Or maybe acouple of ranchers if there happen to be two honest ones in Pecos. Eh?No deals with ranchers who ride in the dark with rustlers! I've a hunchLinrock's full of them.

  "Now, Jim, you've been here for years. So you must know a couple of menabove suspicion."

  "Thank God I do, Russ," he replied feelingly. "Frank Morton an' SiZimmer, my friends an' neighbors all my prosperous days. An' friendsstill. You can gamble on Frank and Si. But Russ, if you want advice fromme, don't invest money in stock now."

  "Why?"

  "Because any new feller buyin' stock in Pecos these days will berustled quicker'n he can say Jack Robinson. The pioneers, the newcattlemen--these are easy pickin'. But the new fellers have to learn theropes. They don't know anythin' or anybody. An' the old ranchers arewise an' sore. They'd fight if they...."

  "What?" I put in as he paused. "If they knew who was rustling the stock?"

  "Nope."

  "If they had the nerve?"

  "Not thet so much."

  "What then? What'd make them fight?"

  "A leader!"

  I went out of Hoden's with that word ringing in my ears. A leader! In mymind's eye I saw a horde of dark faced, dusty-booted cattlemen ridinggrim and armed behind Vaughn Steele.

  More thoughtful than usual, I walked on, passing some of my old haunts,and was about to turn in front of a feed and grain store when a heartyslap on my back disturbed my reflection.

  "Howdy thar, cowboy," boomed a big voice.

  It was Morton, the rancher whom Jim had mentioned, and whoseacquaintance I had made. He was a man of great bulk, with a ruddy,merry face.

  "Hello, Morton. Let's have a drink," I replied.

  "Gotta rustle home," he said. "Young feller, I've a ranch to work."

  "Sell it to me, Morton."

  He laughed and said he wished he could. His buckboard stood at the rail,the horses stamping impatiently.

  "Cards must be runnin' lucky," he went on, with another hearty laugh.

  "Can't kick on the luck. But I'm afraid it will change. Morton, myfriend Hoden gave me a hunch you'd be a good man to tie to. Now, I'vea little money, and before I lose it I'd like to invest it in stock."

  He smiled broadly, but for all his doubt of me he took definiteinterest.

  "I'm not drunk, and I'm on the square," I said bluntly. "You've taken mefor a no-good cow puncher without any brains. Wake up, Morton. If younever size up your neighbors any better than you have me--well, youwon't get any richer."

  It was sheer enjoyment for me to make my remarks to these men, pregnantwith meaning. Morton showed his pleasure, his interest, but his faithheld aloof.

  "I've got some money. I had some. Then the cards have run lucky. Willyou let me in on some kind of deal? Will you start me up as a stockman,with a little herd all my own?"

  "Russ, this's durn strange, comin' from Sampson's cowboy," he said.

  "I'm not in his outfit. My job's with Miss Sampson. She's fine, but theold man? Nit! He's been after me for weeks. I won't last long. That'sone reason why I want to start up for myself."

  "Hoden sent you to me, did he? Poor ol' Jim. Wal, Russ, to come outflat-footed, you'd be foolish to buy cattle now. I don't want to takeyour money an' see you lose out. Better go back across the Pecos wherethe rustlers ain't so strong. I haven't had more'n twenty-five-hundredhead of stock for ten years. The rustlers let me hang on to a breedin'herd. Kind of them, ain't it?"

  "Sort of kind. All I hear is rustlers." I replied with impatience. "Yousee, I haven't ever lived long in a rustler-run county. Who heads thegang anyway?"

  Frank Morton looked at me with a curiously-amused smile.

  "I hear lots about Jack Blome and Snecker. Everybody calls them out andout bad. Do they head this mysterious gang?"

  "Russ, I opine Blome an' Snecker parade themselves off boss rustlerssame as gun throwers. But thet's the love such men have for bein'thought hell. That's brains headin' the rustler gang hereabouts."

  "Maybe Blome and Snecker are blinds. Savvy what I mean, Morton? Maybethere's more in the parade than just the fame of it."

  Morton snapped his big jaw as if to shut in impulsive words.

  "Look here, Morton. I'm not so young in years even if I am young west ofthe Pecos. I can figure ahead. It stands to reason, no matter how damnstrong these rustlers are, how hidden their work, however involved withsupposedly honest men--they can't last."

  "They come with the pioneers an' they'll last as long as thar's a singlesteer left," he declared.

  "Well, if you take that view of circumstances I just figure you as oneof the rustlers!"

  Morton looked as if he were about to brain me with the butt of his whip.His anger flashed by then as unworthy of him, and, something strikinghim as funny, he boomed out a laugh.

  "It's not so funny," I went on. "If you're going to pretend a yellowstreak, what else will I think?"

  "Pretend?" he repeated.

  "Sure. You can't fool me, Morton. I know men of nerve. And here in Pecosthey're not any different from those in other places. I say if you showanything like a lack of sand it's all bluff.

  "By nature you've got nerve. There are a lot of men round Linrock who'reafraid of their shadows, afraid to be out after dark, afraid to op
entheir mouths. But you're not one.

  "So, I say, if you claim these rustlers will last, you're pretendinglack of nerve just to help the popular idea along. For they can't last.

  "Morton, I don't want to be a hard-riding cowboy all my days. Do youthink I'd let fear of a gang of rustlers stop me from going in businesswith a rancher? Nit! What you need out here in Pecos is some newblood--a few youngsters like me to get you old guys started. Savvy whatI mean?"

  "Wal, I reckon I do," he replied, looking as if a storm had blown overhim.

  I gauged the hold the rustler gang had on Linrock by the difficult jobit was to stir this really courageous old cattleman. He had grown upwith the evil. To him it must have been a necessary one, the same as dryseasons and cyclones.

  "Russ, I'll look you up the next time I come to town," he said soberly.

  We parted, and I, more than content with the meeting, retraced my stepsdown street to the Hope So saloon.

  Here I entered, bent on tasks as sincere as the ones just finished, butdispleasing, because I had to mix with a low, profane set, to cultivatethem, to drink occasionally despite my deftness at emptying glasses onthe floor, to gamble with them and strangers, always playing the part ofa flush and flashy cowboy, half drunk, ready to laugh or fight.

  On the night of the fifth day after Steele's departure, I went, as wasmy habit, to the rendezvous we maintained at the pile of rocks out inthe open.

  The night was clear, bright starlight, without any moon, and for thislatter fact safer to be abroad. Often from my covert I had seen darkfigures skulking in and out of Linrock.

  It would have been interesting to hold up these mysterious travelers; sofar, however, this had not been our game. I had enough to keep my owntracks hidden, and my own comings and goings.

  I liked to be out in the night, with the darkness close down to theearth, and the feeling of a limitless open all around. Not only did Ilisten for Steele's soft step, but for any sound--the yelp of coyote ormourn of wolf, the creak of wind in the dead brush, the distant clatterof hoofs, a woman's singing voice faint from the town.

  This time, just when I was about to give up for that evening, Steelecame looming like a black giant long before I heard his soft step. Itwas good to feel his grip, even if it hurt, because after five days Ihad begun to worry.

  "Well, old boy, how's tricks?" he asked easily.

  "Well, old man, did you land that son of a gun in jail?"

  "You bet I did. And he'll stay there for a while. Del Rio rather likedthe idea, Russ. All right there. I side-stepped Sanderson on the wayback. But over here at the little village--Sampson they call it--I washeld up. Couldn't help it, because there wasn't any road around."

  "Held up?" I queried.

  "That's it, the buckboard was held up. I got into the brush in time tosave my bacon. They began to shoot too soon."

  "Did you get any of them?"

  "Didn't stay to see," he chuckled. "Had to hoof it to Linrock, and it'sa good long walk."

  "Been to your 'dobe yet to-night?"

  "I slipped in at the back. Russ, it bothered me some to make sure no onewas laying for me in the dark."

  "You'll have to get a safer place. Why not take to the open everynight?"

  "Russ, that's well enough on a trail. But I need grub, and I've got tohave a few comforts. I'll risk the 'dobe yet a little."

  Then I narrated all that I had seen and done and heard during hisabsence, holding back one thing. What I did tell him sobered him atonce, brought the quiet, somber mood, the thoughtful air.

  "So that's all. Well, it's enough."

  "All pertaining to our job, Vaughn," I replied. "The rest is sentiment,perhaps. I had a pretty bad case of moons over the little Langdon girl.But we quarreled. And it's ended now. Just as well, too, because ifshe'd...."

  "Russ, did you honestly care for her? The real thing, I mean?"

  "I--I'm afraid so. I'm sort of hurt inside. But, hell! There's one thingsure, a love affair might have hindered me, made me soft. I'm glad it'sover."

  He said no more, but his big hand pressing on my knee told me of hissympathy, another indication that there was nothing wanting in thisRanger.

  "The other thing concerns you," I went on, somehow reluctant now to tellthis. "You remember how I heard Wright making you out vile to MissSampson? Swore you'd never come back? Well, after he had gone, whenSally said he'd meant you'd be killed, Miss Sampson felt bad about it.She said she ought to be glad if someone killed you, but she couldn'tbe. She called you a bloody ruffian, yet she didn't want you shot.

  "She said some things about the difference between your hideouscharacter and your splendid stature. Called you a magnificentfellow--that was it. Well, then she choked up and confessed something toSally in shame and disgrace."

  "Shame--disgrace?" echoed Steele, greatly interested. "What?"

  "She confessed she had been taken with you--had her little dream aboutyou. And she hated herself for it."

  Never, I thought, would I forget Vaughn Steele's eyes. It did notmatter that it was dark; I saw the fixed gleam, then the leaping,shadowy light.

  "Did she say that?" His voice was not quite steady. "Wonderful! Even ifit only lasted a minute! She might--we might--If it wasn't for thishellish job! Russ, has it dawned on you yet, what I've got to do toDiane Sampson?"

  "Yes," I replied. "Vaughn, you haven't gone sweet on her?"

  What else could I make of that terrible thing in his eyes? He did notreply to that at all. I thought my arm would break in his clutch.

  "You said you knew what I've got to do to Diane Sampson," he repeatedhoarsely.

  "Yes, you've got to ruin her happiness, if not her life."

  "Why? Speak out, Russ. All this comes like a blow. There for a little Ihoped you had worked out things differently from me. No hope. Ruin herlife! Why?"

  I could explain this strange agitation in Steele in no other way exceptthat realization had brought keen suffering as incomprehensible as itwas painful. I could not tell if it came from suddenly divined love forDiane Sampson equally with a poignant conviction that his fate was towreck her. But I did see that he needed to speak out the brutal truth.

  "Steele, old man, you'll ruin Diane Sampson, because, as arrest looksimprobable to me, you'll have to kill her father."

  "My God! Why, why? Say it!"

  "Because Sampson is the leader of the Linrock gang of rustlers."

  That night before we parted we had gone rather deeply into the plan ofaction for the immediate future.

  First I gave Steele my earnest counsel and then as stiff an argument asI knew how to put up, all anent the absolute necessity of his eternalvigilance. If he got shot in a fair encounter with his enemies--well,that was a Ranger's risk and no disgrace. But to be massacred in bed,knifed, in the dark, shot in the back, ambushed in any manner--not oneof these miserable ends must be the last record of Vaughn Steele.

  He promised me in a way that made me wonder if he would ever sleep againor turn his back on anyone--made me wonder too, at the menace in hisvoice. Steele seemed likely to be torn two ways, and already there was ahint of future desperation.

  It was agreed that I make cautious advances to Hoden and Morton, andwhen I could satisfy myself of their trustworthiness reveal my identityto them. Through this I was to cultivate Zimmer, and then other rancherswhom we should decide could be let into the secret.

  It was not only imperative that we learn through them clues by which wemight eventually fix guilt on the rustler gang, but also just asimperative that we develop a band of deputies to help us when the fightbegan.

  Steele, now that he was back in Linrock, would have the center of thestage, with all eyes upon him. We agreed, moreover, that the bolder thefront now the better the chance of ultimate success. The more nerve heshowed the less danger of being ambushed, the less peril in facingvicious men.

  But we needed a jail. Prisoners had to be corraled after arrest, or thework would be useless, almost a farce, and there was no possibility ofrepeating t
rips to Del Rio.

  We could not use an adobe house for a jail, because that could be easilycut out of or torn down.

  Finally I remembered an old stone house near the end of the main street;it had one window and one door, and had been long in disuse. Steelewould rent it, hire men to guard and feed his prisoners; and if theseprisoners bribed or fought their way to freedom, that would not injurethe great principle for which he stood.

  Both Steele and I simultaneously, from different angles of reasoning,had arrived at a conviction of Sampson's guilt. It was not so strong asrealization; rather a divination.

  Long experience in detecting, in feeling the hidden guilt of men, hadsharpened our senses for that particular thing. Steele acknowledged afew mistakes in his day; but I, allowing for the same strength ofconviction, had never made a single mistake.

  But conviction was one thing and proof vastly another. Furthermore, whenproof was secured, then came the crowning task--that of taking desperatemen in a wild country they dominated.

  Verily, Steele and I had our work cut out for us. However, we wereprepared to go at it with infinite patience and implacable resolve.Steele and I differed only in the driving incentive; of course, outsideof that one binding vow to save the Ranger Service.

  He had a strange passion, almost an obsession, to represent the law ofTexas, and by so doing render something of safety and happiness to thehonest pioneers.

  Beside Steele I knew I shrunk to a shadow. I was not exactly a heathen,and certainly I wanted to help harassed people, especially women andchildren; but mainly with me it was the zest, the thrill, the hazard,the matching of wits--in a word, the adventure of the game.

  Next morning I rode with the young ladies. In the light of Sally'spersistently flagrant advances, to which I was apparently blind, I sawthat my hard-won victory over self was likely to be short-lived.

  That possibility made me outwardly like ice. I was an attentive,careful, reliable, and respectful attendant, seeing to the safety of mycharges; but the one-time gay and debonair cowboy was a thing of thepast.

  Sally, womanlike, had been a little--a very little--repentant; she hadshowed it, my indifference had piqued her; she had made advances andthen my coldness had roused her spirit. She was the kind of girl tovalue most what she had lost, and to throw consequences to the winds inwinning it back.

  When I divined this I saw my revenge. To be sure, when I thought of itI had no reason to want revenge. She had been most gracious to me.

  But there was the catty thing she had said about being kissed again byher admirers. Then, in all seriousness, sentiment aside, I dared notmake up with her.

  So the cold and indifferent part I played was imperative.

  We halted out on the ridge and dismounted for the usual little rest.Mine I took in the shade of a scrubby mesquite. The girls strolled awayout of sight. It was a drowsy day, and I nearly fell asleep.

  Something aroused me--a patter of footsteps or a rustle of skirts. Thena soft thud behind me gave me at once a start and a thrill. First I sawSally's little brown hands on my shoulders. Then her head, with hair allshiny and flying and fragrant, came round over my shoulder, softlysmoothing my cheek, until her sweet, saucy, heated face was right undermy eyes.

  "Russ, don't you love me any more?" she whispered.