by Zane Grey
“Oh, Laddy, I am yet,” replied Nell.
“Shore I don’t believe it. Any girl with a tender heart just couldn’t let a man starve under her eyes... Look at Dick, there. I’ll bet he’s had something to eat, mebbe potatoes an’ gravy, an’ pie an’—”
“Laddy, Dick has had no more than I gave you — indeed, not nearly so much.”
“Shore he’s had a lot of kisses then, for he hasn’t hollered onct about this treatment.”
“Perhaps he has,” said Nell, with a blush; “and if you think that — they would help you to be reasonable I might — I’ll—”
“Well, powerful fond as I am of you, just now kisses ‘ll have to run second to bread an’ butter.”
“Oh, Laddy, what a gallant speech!” laughed Nell. “I’m sorry, but I’ve Dad’s orders.”
“Laddy,” interrupted Belding, “you’ve got to be broke in gradually to eating. Now you know that. You’d be the severest kind of a boss if you had some starved beggars on your hands.”
“But I’m sick — I’m dyin’,” howled Ladd.
“You were never sick in your life, and if all the bullet holes I see in you couldn’t kill you, why, you never will die.”
“Can I smoke?” queried Ladd, with sudden animation. “My Gawd, I used to smoke. Shore I’ve forgot. Nell, if you want to be reinstated in my gallery of angels, just find me a pipe an’ tobacco.”
“I’ve hung onto my pipe,” said Jim, thoughtfully. “I reckon I had it empty in my mouth for seven years or so, wasn’t it, Laddy? A long time! I can see the red lava an’ the red haze, an’ the red twilight creepin’ up. It was hot an’ some lonely. Then the wind, and always that awful silence! An’ always Yaqui watchin’ the west, an’ Laddy with his checkers, an’ Mercedes burnin’ up, wastin’ away to nothin’ but eyes! It’s all there — I’ll never get rid—”
“Chop that kind of talk,” interrupted Belding, bluntly. “Tell us where Yaqui took you — what happened to Rojas — why you seemed lost for so long.”
“I reckon Laddy can tell all that best; but when it comes to Rojas’s finish I’ll tell what I seen, an’ so’ll Dick an’ Thorne. Laddy missed Rojas’s finish. Bar none, that was the—”
“I’m a sick man, but I can talk,” put in Ladd, “an’ shore I don’t want the whole story exaggerated none by Jim.”
Ladd filled the pipe Nell brought, puffed ecstatically at it, and settled himself upon the bench for a long talk. Nell glanced appealingly at Dick, who tried to slip away. Mercedes did go, and was followed by Thorne. Mr. Gale brought chairs, and in subdued excitement called his wife and daughter. Belding leaned forward, rendered all the more eager by Dick’s reluctance to stay, the memory of the quick tragic change in the expression of Mercedes’s beautiful eyes, by the strange gloomy cast stealing over Ladd’s face.
The ranger talked for two hours — talked till his voice weakened to a husky whisper. At the conclusion of his story there was an impressive silence. Then Elsie Gale stood up, and with her hand on Dick’s shoulder, her eyes bright and warm as sunlight, she showed the rangers what a woman thought of them and of the Yaqui. Nell clung to Dick, weeping silently. Mrs. Gale was overcome, and Mr. Gale, very white and quiet, helped her up to her room.
“The Indian! the Indian!” burst out Belding, his voice deep and rolling. “What did I tell you? Didn’t I say he’d be a godsend? Remember what I said about Yaqui and some gory Aztec knifework? So he cut Rojas loose from that awful crater wall, foot by foot, finger by finger, slow and terrible? And Rojas didn’t hang long on the choya thorns? Thank the Lord for that!... Laddy, no story of Camino del Diablo can hold a candle to yours. The flight and the fight were jobs for men. But living through this long hot summer and coming out — that’s a miracle. Only the Yaqui could have done it. The Yaqui! The Yaqui!”
“Shore. Charlie Ladd looks up at an Indian these days. But Beldin’, as for the comin’ out, don’t forget the hosses. Without grand old Sol an’ Diablo, who I don’t hate no more, an’ the other Blancos, we’d never have got here. Yaqui an’ the hosses, that’s my story!”
Early in the afternoon of the next day Belding encountered Dick at the water barrel.
“Belding, this is river water, and muddy at that,” said Dick. “Lord knows I’m not kicking. But I’ve dreamed some of our cool running spring, and I want a drink from it.”
“Never again, son. The spring’s gone, faded, sunk, dry as dust.”
“Dry!” Gale slowly straightened. “We’ve had rains. The river’s full. The spring ought to be overflowing. What’s wrong? Why is it dry?”
“Dick, seeing you’re interested, I may as well tell you that a big charge of nitroglycerin choked my spring.”
“Nitroglycerin?” echoed Gale. Then he gave a quick start. “My mind’s been on home, Nell, my family. But all the same I felt something was wrong here with the ranch, with you, with Nell... Belding, that ditch there is dry. The roses are dead. The little green in that grass has come with the rains. What’s happened? The ranch’s run down. Now I look around I see a change.”
“Some change, yes,” replied Belding, bitterly. “Listen, son.”
Briefly, but not the less forcibly for that, Belding related his story of the operations of the Chases.
Astonishment appeared to be Gale’s first feeling. “Our water gone, our claims gone, our plans forestalled! Why, Belding, it’s unbelievable. Forlorn River with promoters, business, railroad, bank, and what not!”
Suddenly he became fiery and suspicious. “These Chases — did they do all this on the level?”
“Barefaced robbery! Worse than a Greaser holdup,” replied Belding, grimly.
“You say the law upheld them?”
“Sure. Why, Ben Chase has a pull as strong as Diablo’s on a down grade. Dick, we’re jobbed, outfigured, beat, tricked, and we can’t do a thing.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, Belding, most of all for Laddy,” said Gale, feelingly. “He’s all in. He’ll never ride again. He wanted to settle down here on the farm he thought he owned, grow grass and raise horses, and take it easy. Oh, but it’s tough! Say, he doesn’t know it yet. He was just telling me he’d like to go out and look the farm over. Who’s going to tell him? What’s he going to do when he finds out about this deal?”
“Son, that’s made me think some,” replied Belding, with keen eyes fast upon the young man. “And I was kind of wondering how you’d take it.”
“I? Well, I’ll call on the Chases. Look here, Belding, I’d better do some forestalling myself. If Laddy gets started now there’ll be blood spilled. He’s not just right in his mind yet. He talks in his sleep sometimes about how Yaqui finished Rojas. If it’s left to him — he’ll kill these men. But if I take it up—”
“You’re talking sense, Dick. Only here, I’m not so sure of you. And there’s more to tell. Son, you’ve Nell to think of and your mother.”
Belding’s ranger gave him a long and searching glance.
“You can be sure of me,” he said.
“All right, then; listen,” began Belding. With deep voice that had many a beak and tremor he told Gale how Nell had been hounded by Radford Chase, how her mother had been driven by Ben Chase — the whole sad story.
“So that’s the trouble! Poor little girl!” murmured Gale, brokenly. “I felt something was wrong. Nell wasn’t natural, like her old self. And when I begged her to marry me soon, while Dad was here, she couldn’t talk. She could only cry.”
“It was hard on Nell,” said Belding, simply. “But it ‘ll be better now you’re back. Dick, I know the girl. She’ll refuse to marry you and you’ll have a hard job to break her down, as hard as the one you just rode in off of. I think I know you, too, or I wouldn’t be saying—”
“Belding, what ‘re you hinting at?” demanded Gale. “Do you dare insinuate that — that — if the thing were true it’d make any difference to me?”
“Aw, come now, Dick; I couldn’t mean that. I’m only awkward at saying things. And I’m cut p
retty deep—”
“For God’s sake, you don’t believe what Chase said?” queried Gale, in passionate haste. “It’s a lie. I swear it’s a lie. I know it’s a lie. And I’ve got to tell Nell this minute. Come on in with me. I want you, Belding. Oh, why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
Belding felt himself dragged by an iron arm into the sitting-room out into the patio, and across that to where Nell sat in her door. At sight of them she gave a little cry, drooped for an instant, then raised a pale, still face, with eyes beginning to darken.
“Dearest, I know now why you are not wearing my mother’s ring,” said Gale, steadily and low-voiced.
“Dick, I am not worthy,” she replied, and held out a trembling hand with the ring lying in the palm.
Swift as light Gale caught her hand and slipped the ring back upon the third finger.
“Nell! Look at me. It is your engagement ring.... Listen. I don’t believe this — this thing that’s been torturing you. I know it’s a lie. I am absolutely sure your mother will prove it a lie. She must have suffered once — perhaps there was a sad error — but the thing you fear is not true. But, hear me, dearest; even if it was true it wouldn’t make the slightest difference to me. I’d promise you on my honor I’d never think of it again. I’d love you all the more because you’d suffered. I want you all the more to be my wife — to let me make you forget — to—”
She rose swiftly with the passionate abandon of a woman stirred to her depths, and she kissed him.
“Oh, Dick, you’re good — so good! You’ll never know — just what those words mean to me. They’ve saved me — I think.”
“Then, dearest, it’s all right?” Dick questioned, eagerly. “You will keep your promise? You will marry me?”
The glow, the light faded out of her face, and now the blue eyes were almost black. She drooped and shook her head.
“Nell!” exclaimed Gale, sharply catching his breath.
“Don’t ask me, Dick. I — I won’t marry you.”
“Why?”
“You know. It’s true that I—”
“It’s a lie,” interrupted Gale, fiercely. “But even if it’s true — why — why won’t you marry me? Between you and me love is the thing. Love, and nothing else! Don’t you love me any more?”
They had forgotten Belding, who stepped back into the shade.
“I love you with my whole heart and soul. I’d die for you,” whispered Nell, with clenching hands. “But I won’t disgrace you.”
“Dear, you have worried over this trouble till you’re morbid. It has grown out of all proportion. I tell you that I’ll not only be the happiest man on earth, but the luckiest, if you marry me.”
“Dick, you give not one thought to your family. Would they receive me as your wife?”
“They surely would,” replied Gale, steadily.
“No! oh no!”
“You’re wrong, Nell. I’m glad you said that. You give me a chance to prove something. I’ll go this minute and tell them all. I’ll be back here in less than—”
“Dick, you will not tell her — your mother?” cried Nell, with her eyes streaming. “You will not? Oh, I can’t bear it! She’s so proud! And Dick, I love her. Don’t tell her! Please, please don’t! She’ll be going soon. She needn’t ever know — about me. I want her always to think well of me. Dick, I beg of you. Oh, the fear of her knowing has been the worst of all! Please don’t go!”
“Nell, I’m sorry. I hate to hurt you. But you’re wrong. You can’t see things clearly. This is your happiness I’m fighting for. And it’s my life.... Wait here, dear. I won’t be long.”
Gale ran across the patio and disappeared. Nell sank to the doorstep, and as she met the question in Belding’s eyes she shook her head mournfully. They waited without speaking. It seemed a long while before Gale returned. Belding thrilled at sight of him. There was more boy about him than Belding had ever seen. Dick was coming swiftly, flushed, glowing, eager, erect, almost smiling.
“I told them. I swore it was a lie, but I wanted them to decide as if it were true. I didn’t have to waste a minute on Elsie. She loves you, Nell. The Governor is crazy about you. I didn’t have to waste two minutes on him. Mother used up the time. She wanted to know all there was to tell. She is proud, yes; but, Nell, I wish you could have seen how she took the — the story about you. Why, she never thought of me at all, until she had cried over you. Nell, she loves you, too. They all love you. Oh, it’s so good to tell you. I think mother realizes the part you have had in the — what shall I call it? — the regeneration of Richard Gale. Doesn’t that sound fine? Darling, mother not only consents, she wants you to be my wife. Do you hear that? And listen — she had me in a corner and, of course, being my mother, she put on the screws. She made me promise that we’d live in the East half the year. That means Chicago, Cape May, New York — you see, I’m not exactly the lost son any more. Why, Nell, dear, you’ll have to learn who Dick Gale really is. But I always want to be the ranger you helped me become, and ride Blanco Sol, and see a little of the desert. Don’t let the idea of big cities frighten you. W’ell always love the open places best. Now, Nell, say you’ll forget this trouble. I know it’ll come all right. Say you’ll marry me soon.... Why, dearest, you’re crying.... Nell!”
“My — heart — is broken,” sobbed Nell, “for — I — I — can’t marry you.”
The boyish brightness faded out of Gale’s face. Here, Belding saw, was the stern reality arrayed against his dreams.
“That devil Radford Chase — he’ll tell my secret,” panted Nell. “He swore if you ever came back and married me he’d follow us all over the world to tell it.”
Belding saw Gale grow deathly white and suddenly stand stock-still.
“Chase threatened you, then?” asked Dick; and the forced naturalness of his voice struck Belding.
“Threatened me? He made my life a nightmare,” replied Nell, in a rush of speech. “At first I wondered how he was worrying mother sick. But she wouldn’t tell me. Then when she went away he began to hint things. I hated him all the more. But when he told me — I was frightened, shamed. Still I did not weaken. He was pretty decent when he was sober. But when he was half drunk he was the devil. He laughed at me and my pride. I didn’t dare shut the door in his face. After a while he found out that your mother loved me and that I loved her. Then he began to threaten me. If I didn’t give in to him he’d see she learned the truth. That made me weaken. It nearly killed me. I simply could not bear the thought of Mrs. Gale knowing. But I couldn’t marry him. Besides, he got so half the time, when he was drunk, he didn’t want or ask me to be his wife. I was about ready to give up and go mad when you — you came home.”
She ended in a whisper, looking up wistfully and sadly at him. Belding was a raging fire within, cold without. He watched Gale, and believed he could foretell that young man’s future conduct. Gale gathered Nell up into his arms and held her to his breast for a long moment.
“Dear Nell, I’m sure the worst of your trouble is over,” he said gently. “I will not give you up. Now, won’t you lie down, try to rest and calm yourself. Don’t grieve any more. This thing isn’t so bad as you make it. Trust me. I’ll shut Mr. Radford Chase’s mouth.”
As he released her she glanced quickly up at him, then lifted appealing hands.
“Dick, you won’t hunt for him — go after him?”
Gale laughed, and the laugh made Belding jump.
“Dick, I beg of you. Please don’t make trouble. The Chases have been hard enough on us. They are rich, powerful. Dick, say you will not make matters worse. Please promise me you’ll not go to him.”
“You ask me that?” he demanded.
“Yes. Oh yes!”
“But you know it’s useless. What kind of a man do you want me to be?”
“It’s only that I’m afraid. Oh, Dick, he’d shoot you in the back.”
“No, Nell, a man of his kind wouldn’t have nerve enough even for that.”
“
You’ll go?” she cried wildly.
Gale smiled, and the smile made Belding cold.
“Dick, I cannot keep you back?”
“No,” he said.
Then the woman in her burst through instinctive fear, and with her eyes blazing black in her white face she lifted parted quivering lips and kissed him.
Gale left the patio, and Belding followed closely at his heels. They went through the sitting-room. Outside upon the porch sat the rangers, Mr. Gale, and Thorne. Dick went into his room without speaking.
“Shore somethin’s comin’ off,” said Ladd, sharply; and he sat up with keen eyes narrowing.
Belding spoke a few words; and, remembering an impression he had wished to make upon Mr. Gale, he made them strong. But now it was with grim humor that he spoke.
“Better stop that boy,” he concluded, looking at Mr. Gale. “He’ll do some mischief. He’s wilder’n hell.”
“Stop him? Why, assuredly,” replied Mr. Gale, rising with nervous haste.
Just then Dick came out of his door. Belding eyed him keenly. The only change he could see was that Dick had put on a hat and a pair of heavy gloves.
“Richard, where are you going?” asked his father.
“I’m going over here to see a man.”
“No. It is my wish that you remain. I forbid you to go,” said Mr. Gale, with a hand on his son’s shoulder.
Dick put Mr. Gale aside gently, respectfully, yet forcibly. The old man gasped.
“Dad, I haven’t gotten over my bad habit of disobeying you. I’m sorry. Don’t interfere with me now. And don’t follow me. You might see something unpleasant.”
“But my son! What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to beat a dog.”
Mr. Gale looked helplessly from this strangely calm and cold son to the restless Belding. Then Dick strode off the porch.
“Hold on!” Ladd’s voice would have stopped almost any man. “Dick, you wasn’t agoin’ without me?”
“Yes, I was. But I’m thoughtless just now, Laddy.”