by Zane Grey
Chapter 13
RUSS SITTELL IN ACTION
I ran like one possessed of devils down that rough slope, hurdling thestones and crashing through the brush, with a sound in my ears that wasnot all the rush of the wind. When I reached a level I kept running; butsomething dragged at me. I slowed down to a walk. Never in my life had Ibeen victim of such sensation. I must flee from something that wasdrawing me back. Apparently one side of my mind was unalterably fixed,while the other was a hurrying conglomeration of flashes of thought,reception of sensations. I could not get calm.
By and by, almost involuntarily, with a fleeting look backward as if inexpectation of pursuit, I hurried faster on. Action seemed to make mystate less oppressive; it eased the weight upon me. But the farther Iwent on, the harder it was to continue. I was turning my back upon love,happiness, success in life, perhaps on life itself. I was doing that,but my decision had not been absolute. There seemed no use to go onfarther until I was absolutely sure of myself. I received a clearwarning thought that such work as seemed haunting and driving me couldnever be carried out in the mood under which I labored. I hung on tothat thought. Several times I slowed up, then stopped, only to tramp onagain.
At length, as I mounted a low ridge, Linrock lay bright and green beforeme, not faraway, and the sight was a conclusive check. There weremesquites on the ridge, and I sought the shade beneath them. It was thenoon hour, with hot, glary sun and no wind. Here I had to have out myfight. If ever in my varied life of exciting adventure I strove tothink, to understand myself, to see through difficulties, I assuredlystrove then. I was utterly unlike myself; I could not bring the old selfback; I was not the same man I once had been. But I could understandwhy. It was because of Sally Langdon, the gay and roguish girl who hadbewitched me, the girl whom love had made a woman--the kind of womanmeant to make life beautiful for me.
I saw her changing through all those weeks, holding many of the oldtraits and graces, acquiring new character of mind and body, to becomewhat I had just fled from--a woman sweet, fair, loyal, loving,passionate.
Temptation assailed me. To have her to-morrow--my wife! She had said it.Just twenty-four little hours, and she would be mine--the only woman Ihad ever really coveted, the only one who had ever found the good in me.The thought was alluring. I followed it out, a long, happy stage-rideback to Austin, and then by train to her home where, as she had said,the oranges grew and the trees waved with streamers of gray moss and themocking-birds made melody. I pictured that home. I wondered that longbefore I had not associated wealth and luxury with her family. Always Ihad owned a weakness for plantations, for the agricultural life with itsopen air and freedom from towns.
I saw myself riding through the cotton and rice and cane, home to thestately old mansion, where long-eared hounds bayed me welcome and awoman looked for me and met me with happy and beautiful smiles. Theremight--there _would_ be children. And something new, strange,confounding with its emotion, came to life deep in my heart. There wouldbe children! Sally their mother; I their father! The kind of life alonely Ranger always yearned for and never had! I saw it all, felt itkeenly, lived its sweetness in an hour of temptation that made me weakphysically and my spirit faint and low.
For what had I turned my back on this beautiful, all-satisfyingprospect? Was it to arrest and jail a few rustlers? Was it to meet thatmocking Sampson face to face and show him my shield and reach for mygun? Was it to kill that hated Wright? Was it to save the people ofLinrock from further greed, raids, murder? Was it to please and aid myold captain, Neal of the Rangers? Was it to save the Service to theState?
No--a thousand times no. It was for the sake of Steele. Because he was awonderful man! Because I had been his undoing! Because I had thrownDiane Sampson into his arms! That had been my great error. This Rangerhad always been the wonder and despair of his fellow officers, somagnificent a machine, so sober, temperate, chaste, so unremittinglyloyal to the Service, so strangely stern and faithful to his conceptionof the law, so perfect in his fidelity to duty. He was the model, theinspiration, the pride of all of us. To me, indeed, he represented theRanger Service. He was the incarnation of that spirit which fightingTexas had developed to oppose wildness and disorder and crime. He wouldcarry through this Linrock case; but even so, if he were not killed, hiscareer would be ruined. He might save the Service, yet at the cost ofhis happiness. He was not a machine; he was a man. He might be a perfectRanger; still he was a human being.
The loveliness, the passion, the tragedy of a woman, great as they were,had not power to shake him from his duty. Futile, hopeless, vain herlove had been to influence him. But there had flashed over me withsubtle, overwhelming suggestion that not futile, not vain was _my_ loveto save him! Therefore, beyond and above all other claims, and by reasonof my wrong to him, his claim came first.
It was then there was something cold and deathlike in my soul; it wasthen I bade farewell to Sally Langdon. For I knew, whatever happened, ofone thing I was sure--I would have to kill either Sampson or Wright.Snecker could be managed; Sampson might be trapped into arrest; butWright had no sense, no control, no fear. He would snarl like a pantherand go for his gun, and he would have to be killed. This, of allconsummations, was the one to be calculated upon. And, of course, bySally's own words, that contingency would put me forever outside thepale for her.
I did not deceive myself; I did not accept the slightest intimation ofhope; I gave her up. And then for a time regret, remorse, pain, darknessworked their will with me.
I came out of it all bitter and callous and sore, in the most fitting ofmoods to undertake a difficult and deadly enterprise. Miss Sampsoncompletely slipped my mind; Sally became a wraith as of some one dead;Steele began to fade. In their places came the bushy-bearded Snecker,the olive-skinned Sampson with his sharp eyes, and dark, evil facedWright. Their possibilities began to loom up, and with my speculationreturned tenfold more thrilling and sinister the old strange zest of theman-hunt.
It was about one o'clock when I strode into Linrock. The streets for themost part were deserted. I went directly to the hall where Morton andZimmer, with their men, had been left by Steele to guard the prisoners.I found them camping out in the place, restless, somber, anxious. Thefact that only about half the original number of prisoners were leftstruck me as further indication of Morton's summary dealing. But when Iquestioned him as to the decrease in number, he said bluntly that theyhad escaped. I did not know whether or not to believe him. But thatdidn't matter. I tried to get in some more questions, only I found thatMorton and Zimmer meant to be heard first. "Where's Steele?" theydemanded.
"He's out of town, in a safe place," I replied. "Too bad hurt foraction. I'm to rush through with the rest of the deal."
"That's good. We've waited long enough. This gang has been split, an'if we hurry they'll never get together again. Old man Snecker showed upto-day. He's drawin' the outfit in again. Reckon he's waitin' fororders. Sure he's ragin' since Bo was killed. This old fox will bedangerous if he gets goin'."
"Where is he now?" I queried.
"Over at the Hope So. Must be a dozen of the gang there. But he's theonly leader left we know of. If we get him, the rustler gang will bebroken for good. He's sent word down here for us to let our prisoners goor there'd be a damn bloody fight. We haven't sent our answer yet. Washopin' Steele would show up. An' now we're sure glad you're back."
"Morton, I'll take the answer," I replied quickly. "Now there're twothings. Do you know if Sampson and Wright are at the ranch?"
"They were an hour ago. We had word. Zimmer saw Dick."
"All right. Have you any horses handy?"
"Sure. Those hitched outside belong to us."
"I want you to take a man with you, in a few moments, and ride round theback roads and up to Sampson's house. Get off and wait under the treestill you hear me shoot or yell, then come fast."
Morton's breast heaved; he whistled as he breathed; his neck churned."God Almighty! So _there_ the scent leads! We always wondered--halfb
elieved. But no one spoke--no one had any nerve." Morton moistened hislips; his face was livid; his big hands shook. "Russ, you can gamble onme."
"Good. Well, that's all. Come out and get me a horse."
When I had mounted and was half-way to the Hope So, my plan, as far asSnecker was concerned, had been formed. It was to go boldy into thesaloon, ask for the rustler, first pretend I had a reply from Morton andthen, when I had Snecker's ear, whisper a message supposedly fromSampson. If Snecker was too keen to be decoyed I could at least surprisehim off his guard and kill him, then run for my horse. The plan seemedclever to me. I had only one thing to fear, and that was a possibilityof the rustlers having seen my part in Steele's defense the other day.That had to be risked. There were always some kind of risks to be faced.
It was scarcely a block and a half to the Hope So. Before I arrived Iknew I had been seen. When I dismounted before the door I felt cold, yetthere was an exhilaration in the moment. I never stepped more naturallyand carelessly into the saloon. It was full of men. There were menbehind the bar helping themselves. Evidently Blandy's place had not beenfilled. Every face near the door was turned toward me; dark, intent,scowling, malignant they were, and made me need my nerve.
"Say, boys, I've a word for Snecker," I called, quite loud. Nobodystirred. I swept my glance over the crowd, but did not see Snecker. "I'min some hurry," I added.
"Bill ain't here," said a man at the table nearest me. "Air you comin'from Morton?"
"Nit. But I'm not yellin' this message."
The rustler rose, and in a few long strides confronted me.
"Word from Sampson!" I whispered, and the rustler stared. "I'm in hisconfidence. He's got to see Bill at once. Sampson sends word he'squit--he's done--he's through. The jig is up, and he means to hit theroad out of Linrock."
"Bill'll kill him surer 'n hell," muttered the rustler. "But we all saidit'd come to thet. An' what'd Wright say?"
"Wright! Why, he's cashed in. Didn't you-all hear? Reckon Sampson shothim."
The rustler cursed his amaze and swung his rigid arm with fist clenchedtight. "When did Wright get it?"
"A little while ago. I don't know how long. Anyway, I saw him lyin' deadon the porch. An' say, pard, I've got to rustle. Send Bill up quick ashe comes. Tell him Sampson wants to turn over all his stock an' thenlight out."
I backed to the door, and the last I saw of the rustler he was standingthere in a scowling amaze. I had fooled him all right. If only I had theluck to have Snecker come along soon. Mounting, I trotted the horseleisurely up the street. Business and everything else was at astandstill in Linrock these days. The doors of the stores werebarricaded. Down side streets, however, I saw a few people, a buckboard,and stray cattle.
When I reached the edge of town I turned aside a little and took a lookat the ruins of Steele's adobe house. The walls and debris had all beenflattened, scattered about, and if anything of, value had escapeddestruction it had disappeared. Steele, however, had left very littlethat would have been of further use to him. Turning again, I continuedon my way up to the ranch. It seemed that, though I was eager ratherthan backward, my mind seized avidly upon suggestion or attraction, asif to escape the burden of grim pondering. When about half-way acrossthe flat, and perhaps just out of gun-shot sound of Sampson's house, Iheard the rapid clatter of hoofs on the hard road. I wheeled, expectingto see Morton and his man, and was ready to be chagrined at their comingopenly instead of by the back way. But this was only one man, and it wasnot Morton. He seemed of big build, and he bestrode a fine bay horse.There evidently was reason for hurry, too. At about one hundred yards,when I recognized Snecker, complete astonishment possessed me.
Well it was I had ample time to get on my guard! In wheeling my horse Ibooted him so hard that he reared. As I had been warm I had my sombreroover the pommel of the saddle. And when the head of my horse blocked anypossible sight of movement of my hand, I pulled my gun and held itconcealed under my sombrero. This rustler had bothered me in mycalculations. And here he came galloping, alone. Exultation would havebeen involuntary then but for the sudden shock, and then the coldsettling of temper, the breathless suspense. Snecker pulled his huge bayand pounded to halt abreast of me. Luck favored me. Had I ever hadanything but luck in these dangerous deals?
Snecker seemed to fume; internally there was a volcano. His widesombrero and bushy beard hid all of his face except his eyes, which weredeepset furnaces. He, too, like his lieutenant, had been carriedcompletely off balance by the strange message apparently from Sampson.It was Sampson's name that had fooled and decoyed these men. "Hey!You're the feller who jest left word fer some one at the Hope So?" heasked.
"Yes," I replied, while with my left hand I patted the neck of my horse,holding him still.
"Sampson wants me bad, eh?"
"Reckon there's only one man who wants you more."
Steadily, I met his piercing gaze. This was a rustler not to be longvictim to any ruse. I waited in cold surety.
"You thet cowboy, Russ?" he asked.
"I was--and I'm not!" I replied significantly.
The violent start of this violent outlaw was a rippling jerk of passion."What'n hell!" he ejaculated.
"Bill, you're easy."
"Who're you?" he uttered hoarsely.
I watched Snecker with hawk-like keenness. "United States deputymarshal. Bill, you're under arrest!"
He roared a mad curse as his hand clapped down to his gun. Then I firedthrough my sombrero. Snecker's big horse plunged. The rustler fell back,and one of his legs pitched high as he slid off the lunging steed. Hisother foot caught in the stirrup. This fact terribly frightened thehorse. He bolted, dragging the rustler for a dozen jumps. Then Snecker'sfoot slipped loose. He lay limp and still and shapeless in the road. Idid not need to go back to look him over.
But to make assurance doubly sure, I dismounted, and went back to wherehe lay. My bullet had gone where it had been aimed. As I rode up intoSampson's court-yard and turned in to the porch I heard loud and angryvoices. Sampson and Wright were quarrelling again. How my lucky starguided me! I had no plan of action, but my brain was equal to a hundredlightning-swift evolutions. The voices ceased. The men had heard thehorse. Both of them came out on the porch. In an instant I was again thelolling impudent cowboy, half under the influence of liquor.
"It's only Russ and he's drunk," said George Wright contemptuously.
"I heard horses trotting off there," replied Sampson. "Maybe the girlsare coming. I bet I teach them not to run off again--Hello, Russ."
He looked haggard and thin, but seemed amiable enough. He was in hisshirt-sleeves and he had come out with a gun in his hand. This he laidon a table near the wall. He wore no belt. I rode right up to the porchand, greeting them laconically, made a show of a somewhat tangle-footedcowboy dismounting. The moment I got off and straightened up, I asked nomore. The game was mine. It was the great hour of my life and I met itas I had never met another. I looked and acted what I pretended to be,though a deep and intense passion, an almost ungovernable suspense, anicy sickening nausea abided with me. All I needed, all I wanted was toget Sampson and Wright together, or failing that, to maneuver into suchposition that I had any kind of a chance. Sampson's gun on the tablemade three distinct objects for me to watch and two of them could changeposition.
"What do you want here?" demanded Wright. He was red, bloated,thick-lipped, all fiery and sweaty from drink, though sober on themoment, and he had the expression of a desperate man in his last stand.It _was_ his last stand, though he was ignorant of that.
"Me--Say, Wright, I ain't fired yet," I replied, in slow-risingresentment.
"Well, you're fired now," he replied insolently.
"Who fires me, I'd like to know?" I walked up on the porch and I had acigarette in one hand, a match in the other. I struck the match.
"I do," said Wright.
I studied him with apparent amusement. It had taken only one glancearound for me to divine that Sampson would enjoy any kind of a clash
between Wright and me. "Huh! You fired me once before an' it didn't go,Wright. I reckon you don't stack up here as strong as you think."
He was facing the porch, moody, preoccupied, somber, all the time. Onlya little of his mind was concerned with me. Manifestly there were strongforces at work. Both men were strained to a last degree, and Wrightcould be made to break at almost a word. Sampson laughed mockingly atthis sally of mine, and that stung Wright. He stopped his pacing andturned his handsome, fiery eyes on me. "Sampson, I won't stand thisman's impudence."
"Aw, Wright, cut that talk. I'm not impudent. Sampson knows I'm a goodfellow, on the square, and I have you sized up about O.K."
"All the same, Russ, you'd better dig out," said Sampson. "Don't kick upany fuss. We're busy with deals to-day. And I expect visitors."
"Sure. I won't stay around where I ain't wanted," I replied. Then I litmy cigarette and did not move an inch out of my tracks.
Sampson sat in a chair near the door; the table upon which lay his gunstood between him and Wright. This position did not invite me to startanything. But the tension had begun to be felt. Sampson had his sharpgaze on me. "What'd you come for, anyway?" he asked suddenly.
"Well, I had some news I was asked to fetch in."
"Get it out of you then."
"See here now, Mr. Sampson, the fact is I'm a tender-hearted fellow. Ihate to hurt people's feelin's. And if I was to spring this news in Mr.Wright's hearin', why, such a sensitive, high-tempered gentleman as hewould go plumb off his nut." Unconcealed sarcasm was the dominant notein that speech. Wright flared up, yet he was eagerly curious. Sampson,probably, thought I was only a little worse for drink, and but for theway I rubbed Wright he would not have tolerated me at all.
"What's this news? You needn't be afraid of my feelings," said Wright.
"Ain't so sure of that," I drawled. "It concerns the lady you're sweeton, an' the ranger you ain't sweet on."
Sampson jumped up. "Russ, had Diane gone out to meet Steele?" he askedangrily.
"Sure she had," I replied.
I thought Wright would choke. He was thick-necked anyway, and the gushof blood made him tear at the soft collar of his shirt. Both men wereexcited now, moving about, beginning to rouse. I awaited my chance,patient, cold, all my feelings shut in the vise of my will.
"How do you know she met Steele?" demanded Sampson.
"I was there. I met Sally at the same time."
"But why should my daughter meet this Ranger?"
"She's in love with him and he's in love with her."
The simple statement might have had the force of a juggernaut. I reveledin Wright's state, but I felt sorry for Sampson. He had not outlived hispride. Then I saw the leaping thought--would this daughter side againsthim? Would she help to betray him? He seemed to shrivel up, to grow oldwhile I watched him.
Wright, finding his voice, cursed Diane, cursed the Ranger, thenSampson, then me.
"You damned, selfish fool!" cried Sampson, in deep, bitter scorn. "Allyou think of is yourself. Your loss of the girl! Think once of me--myhome--my life!"
Then the connection subtly put out by Sampson apparently dawned upon theother. Somehow, through this girl, her father and cousin were to bebetrayed. I got that impression, though I could not tell how true itwas. Certainly, Wright's jealousy was his paramount emotion.
Sampson thrust me sidewise off the porch. "Go away," he ordered. He didnot look around to see if I came back. Quickly I leaped to my formerposition. He confronted Wright. He was beyond the table where the gunlay. They were close together. My moment had come. The game wasmine--and a ball of fire burst in my brain to race all over me.
"To hell with you!" burst out Wright incoherently. He was frenzied."I'll have her or nobody else will!"
"You never will," returned Sampson stridently. "So help me God, I'drather see her Ranger Steele's wife than yours!"
While Wright absorbed that shock Sampson leaned toward him, all of hateand menace in his mien. They had forgotten the half-drunken cowboy."Wright, you made me what I am," continued Sampson. "I backed you,protected you, finally I went in with you. Now it's ended. I quit you.I'm done!" Their gray, passion-corded faces were still as stones.
"Gentlemen," I called in clear, high, far-reaching voice, the intonationof authority, "you're both done!"
They wheeled to confront me, to see my leveled gun. "Don't move! Not amuscle! Not a finger!" I warned. Sampson read what Wright had not themind to read. His face turned paler gray, to ashen.
"What d'ye mean?" yelled Wright fiercely, shrilly. It was not in him toobey my command, to see impending death. All quivering and strung, yetwith perfect control, I raised my left hand to turn back a lapel of myopen vest. The silver shield flashed brightly.
"United States deputy marshal in service of Ranger Steele!"
Wright howled like a dog. With barbarous and insane fury, with sheer,impotent folly, he swept a clawing hand for his gun. My shot broke hisaction as it cut short his life. Before Wright even tottered, before heloosed the gun, Sampson leaped behind him, clasped him with his leftarm, quick as lightning jerked the gun from both clutching fingers andsheath. I shot at Sampson, then again, then a third time. All my bulletssped into the upheld nodding Wright. Sampson had protected himself withthe body of the dead man. I had seen red flashes, puffs of smoke, hadheard quick reports. Something stung my left arm. Then a blow like wind,light of sound yet shocking in impact, struck me, knocked me flat. Thehot rend of lead followed the blow. My heart seemed to explode, yet mymind kept extraordinarily clear and rapid.
I raised myself, felt a post at my shoulder, leaned on it. I heardSampson work the action of Wright's gun. I heard the hammer click, fallupon empty shells. He had used up all the loads in Wright's gun. I heardhim curse as a man cursed at defeat. I waited, cool and sure now, forhim to show his head or other vital part from behind his bolster. Hetried to lift the dead man, to edge him closer toward the table wherethe gun lay. But, considering the peril of exposing himself, he foundthe task beyond him. He bent, peering at me under Wright's arm.Sampson's eyes were the eyes of a man who meant to kill me. There wasnever any mistaking the strange and terrible light of eyes like those.
More than once I had a chance to aim at them, at the top of Sampson'shead, at a strip of his side. But I had only two shells left. I wantedto make sure. Suddenly I remembered Morton and his man. Then I pealedout a cry--hoarse, strange, yet far-reaching. It was answered by ashout. Sampson heard it. It called forth all that was in the man. Heflung Wright's body off. But even as it dropped, before Sampson couldrecover to leap as he surely intended for the gun, I covered him, calledpiercingly to him. I could kill him there or as he moved. But one chanceI gave him.
"Don't jump for the gun! Don't! I'll kill you! I've got two shells left!Sure as God, I'll kill you!"
He stood perhaps ten feet from the table where his gun lay. I saw himcalculating chances. He was game. He had the courage that forced me torespect him. I just saw him measure the distance to that gun. He wasmagnificent. He meant to do it. I would have to kill him.
"Sampson, listen!" I cried, very swiftly. "The game's up! You're done!But think of your daughter! I'll spare your life, I'll give you freedomon one condition. For her sake! I've got you nailed--all the proofs.It was I behind the wall the other night. Blome, Hilliard, Pickens, BoSnecker, are dead. I killed Bo Snecker on the way up here. There liesWright. You're alone. And here comes Morton and his men to my aid.
"Give up! Surrender! Consent to demands and I'll spare you. You can gofree back to your old country. It's for Diane's sake! Her life, perhapsher happiness, can be saved! Hurry, man! Your answer!"
"Suppose I refuse?" he queried, with a dark and terrible earnestness.
"Then I'll kill you in your tracks! You can't move a hand! Your word ordeath! Hurry, Sampson! I can't last much longer. But I can kill youbefore I drop. Be a man! For her sake! Quick! Another second now--ByGod, I'll kill you!"
"All right, Russ! I give my word," he said, and deliberate
ly walked tothe chair and fell into it, just as Morton came running up with his man.
"Put away your gun," I ordered them. "The game's up. Snecker and Wrightare dead. Sampson is my prisoner. He has my word he'll be protected.It's for you to draw up papers with him. He'll divide all his property,every last acre, every head of stock as you and Zimmer dictate. He givesup all. Then he's free to leave the country, and he's never to return."