by Zane Grey
“Shet up, Deuce,” interposed Texas, curtly. “I don’t hold yu responsible for Hallett. An’ I’ll do the talkin’.”
“Aw, talk an’ be damned. Yu’re pretty windy, Shipman,” returned Hallett, sarcastically, as he lighted a cigarette.
“Shore. An’ I may blow on yu if yu keep slingin’ yore gab so free. Looks like yu want to quit this job.”
“I’d just as leave.”
“Wal, yu’re off. An’ now I’ll tell yu somethin’. It’s a dirty mean deal yu’re givin’ Mr. Brite. We’re short of hands. An’ yore deal has a queer look.”
“Has it? Yu ought to know Texas is the place for queer deals.”
“Yes, an’ for yellow cowhands, I’m ashamed to say,” rejoined Shipman, his gaze fixed in piercing intensity upon the rider.
Hallett responded to that significantly. Brite’s sharp eyes followed the rider’s sweeping survey of Texas Joe. The latter had just rolled out of his blankets. He had one boot on and the other in his hand; he had not buckled on his gun-belt. Hallett slid off his horse to step clear. His face was lowering and his eyes shone like dull coals.
“There’s more’n one yellow cowhand in this ootfit,” declared Hallett. “An’ I’m gonna tell yu what’ll make yu take water. It was Ben Chandler who got me to go in town last night. He had some queer deal on. But I didn’t know thet then. I went just for fun. An’ I stayed to keep Ben from double-crossin’ this ootfit. An’ I couldn’t do it.”
“Ahuh,” ejaculated Texas, unconvinced, but certainly checked.
Brite meanwhile had pulled on his boots, and now he arose, meaning to interject a few pertinent words into this argument. But he did not get very far. Ben Chandler stalked into their midst, wearing a bloody scarf round his head.
“Tex, he’s a —— liar!” he announced.
“Where yu come from?” queried Texas, astounded.
“My bed’s over there in the bushes, Tex. I just crawled oot an’ happened to heah this confab.”
“Wal, by gum! yu aboot got heah in time.”
Hallett’s appearance and demeanor underwent a drastic change. He first showed complete astonishment and incredulity. These gave way to deeper emotions, sudden anger and fear and hate.
“So yu turned up, hey?” he queried, scornfully. “I’ll bet yu don’t remember yu was drunk last night?”
“Not me, Hallett.”
“Huh. I reckon yu’ll say yu wasn’t in a fight, either.”
“I wasn’t. Somebody bounced lead off my haid, all right. I rode oot to camp, as yu see, an’ now, by Gawd! I’m gonna come clean with what I done an’ what I know.”
“Shipman, this cowhand was so drunk last night thet he cain’t remember shootin’ up Snell’s place.”
“So yu say, Hallett. But Ben has called yu a —— liar. If I know Texans thet calls for a show down.”
Brite stepped out from behind the group.
“Tex, I was in Snell’s last night. I saw Hallett an’ Chandler there. Ben was not drunk.”
During the moment of silence that ensued Hallett’s face turned a pale, livid hue. He crouched a little, as if about to spring, and with a hand at each hip he slowly edged toward his horse. His mask was off. His motive was to escape. But he looked venomous.
“Shipman, yu squawk again an’ I’ll bore yu,” he rasped, his eyes deadly.
Texas swallowed hard, but he kept a cool silence.
“Bah, yu wouldn’t bore nobody,” shouted Ben Chandler, passionately. “Yu’re a bluff an’ a liar. Yu cain’t lay this on to me, Hallett.”
“Shet up, yu —— fool!” rejoined the rider, backing toward his horse.
“Ben, don’t say any more,” advised Brite, recognizing what seemed so plain to Shipman.
“But, Mr. Brite, I’m ashamed of what I’ve done,” protested Ben, his face flaming. “An’ I want to confess an’ call this lyin’ four-flush cowhand to his face before yu all.”
“Wait!” came in cold, sharp exclamation from Pan Handle Smith.
“Lend me a gun, somebody,” hurriedly broke out Chandler.
“Don’t nobody move,” ordered Hallett, darkly. Evidently he thought he had the situation in hand.
“Hallett, I’m gonna give yu away right heah,” shouted Chandler, stridently. “I don’t stand for yore dirty deal bein’ laid on me.”
“Hold yore chin, Chandler,” hissed Hallett.
“Hold nothin’. I’m givin’ away yore deal with Ross Hite. I’m — —”
“Take it then!” As Hallett rang out those words he jerked at his guns. Out they leaped and were flashing up when a heavy shot cracked from behind Brite. Smoke and fire burned his cheek. Hallett’s intense action ceased as if he had been struck by lightning. His left eye and temple appeared blotted out in blood. He sank down as if his legs had telescoped under him, his face rooting in the dust, his hands sliding forward, lax and nerveless, to release the guns.
“Boss, I cain’t stand around an’ see yore good boys bored,” Smith’s cool, vibrant drawl broke the strained silence.
“So help me — Gawd!” burst out Ackerman, excitedly. “He got it. I was leary aboot him.”
“Pan Handle, I’d forgotten yu were aboot,” declared Brite, in excited relief. “Thet was wal done.... I saw Hallett with Ross Hite last night.”
“Ben, come clean with yore story,” ordered Texas Joe. “Yu damn near got yore everlastin’ then.”
“Texas, yu were in line, too. I saw thet in his eye,” said Smith, dryly.
“Hah! Mebbe I didn’t see it,” replied Texas, huskily. “Pan, thet’s one I owe yu.... An’ if I ever get caught ag’in withoot my gun!”
“Come on, Ben, get it off yore chest,” interposed Brite.
Chandler sagged on a pack and dropped his head into his hands.
“Boss, there ain’t much to tell,” he replied, in a low voice. “Hallett got around me. Persuaded me to go in with him on a deal with Hite. One night back on the Trail Hite got hold of Hallett when he was standin’ guard. Offered him five hundred to leave a breach in the line so Hite an’ his ootfit could cut oot a big bunch of stock.... First, I — I agreed. I shore was yellow. But it rode me day an’ night — thet low-down deal.... An’ when it come to the scratch I — I weakened. I couldn’t go through with it.... Thet’s all, sir.”
“My Gawd, Ben!... To think yu’d double-cross us like thet!” exclaimed Deuce Ackerman, wringing his hands. “I never knowed Hallett very good. But yu, Ben — why, we’ve rode together — slept together for years.”
“It’s done. I’ve told yu. I’m makin’ no excuses — only Roy always had likker to feed me,” replied Ben, miserably.
“Ben, in thet case I forgive yu,” spoke up Brite, feelingly. “An’ I hope to heaven yu never fall down thet way again.”
“Thanks, Mr. Brite. I promise yu — I won’t,” returned Chandler, brokenly.
“Ben, what yu suppose Reddie Bayne will say to this?” queried Texas Joe, in ringing scorn. “She sort of cottoned to yu most of all.”
“I’ve no idee, Tex. But I’ll tell her myself.”
“Heah she comes with the remuda,” added Deuce.
“Wonder why Reddie’s rustlin’ in so pert with all them hawses?” inquired Texas.
“Somebody cover up thet daid man,” said Ackerman.
“Not so yu’d notice it, cowboy. Let the little lady take her medicine. Wasn’t she kinda sweet on Hallett?” rejoined Texas.
“Not so yu’d notice it, Tex.”
No more was said directly. Reddie circled the remuda about a hundred yards outside of camp, and came tearing on, her big black horse swinging with his beautiful action. She made the drivers jump before she pulled him to a halt.
“Mr. Brite — Texas — Pan Handle,” she panted, her eyes wide with excitement. “I’ve shore got news. Nichols with his herd of two thousand odd haid is right on our heels. An’ followin’ him close is Horton in charge of a big herd for Dave Slaughter.”
“Thunderation!” ejaculated
Brite, throwing up his hands.
Texas Joe used language equally expressive, but hardly for a young girl’s ears. Then he pulled on his boot, a task that made him struggle.
“Both drivers sent a man over to tell us to hop the river pronto or they’d be on our heels,” went on Reddie, her cheeks aglow. “Oh! Look at the river! It was dark when I went oot.... Mr. Brite, it cain’t be possible to swim our ootfit across thet flood.”
“Reddie, it may not be possible, but we must make the attempt,” replied Brite.
“Ah-h!” screamed Reddie, suddenly espying the bloody-faced Hallett on the ground. “What’s — happened? Isn’t thet Roy?”
“I reckon ’tis, lass.”
“Oh! — He’s daid!”
“So it would seem.”
“Who?” flashed Reddie, plainly stirred to righteous wrath.
“Reddie, I’m the bad hombre,” drawled Pan Handle.
“Yu — yu bloody gunman! Why on earth did yu shoot thet poor boy?”
Pan Handle turned away; Texas dropped his head; Brite watched, but spoke no word. Then Ben looked up.
“Why, Ben! Yu shot too?”
“Only a scratch, Reddie. Yu see it was this way,” he began, and bravely outlined his part in the tragedy; scoring Hallett mercilessly, but not sparing himself.
“Ben Chandler!” she cried, in shocked voice. Then as the realization dawned on her and she gazed from Texas to Brite, to the ghastly Hallett, and back with blazing eyes to Ben, the enormity of such an offense seemed to mount prodigiously.
“Yu agreed to double-cross our boss!” she burst out, in withering scorn. “To steal from the hand thet paid yu! Lawd! but thet’s a low-down trick!”
“But, Reddie, give the devil his due,” interrupted Texas, sharply. “Ben was easy-goin’. He cottoned to Hallett. An’ his weakness was the bottle. An’ after all he didn’t — he couldn’t go through with it.”
“I don’t care a damn,” cried Reddie, the very embodiment of ruthlessness. “I’d never forgive him in a million years.... Why, the dirty sneakin’ cowhand was coaxin’ me for a kiss — only two nights ago!”
“Wal, in thet case, it’s plumb important to know if Ben got it,” drawled Texas.
“Yu bet yore life he didn’t,” retorted Reddie, her face on fire. “If he had I’d jump in the river this minute.”
“Reddie, I’ve overlooked Ben’s break,” interrupted Brite.
“Ahuh. Wal, all I say is yu’re a lot of soft melon haids,” replied Reddie, with passion. “I’ll never overlook it. An’ I’ll never speak to him again or stand guard near him or — —”
“Come an’ git it while it’s hot,” sang Moze.
Texas Joe was studying the river. It was two hundred yards wide at that point, a swirling, muddy, swift flood, carrying logs and trees and driftwood of all descriptions. The current had to be reckoned with. If it carried the stock below a certain point there would almost certainly be a disaster. For two miles below on the opposite side the bank was steep and straight up as far as the eye could see.
“Boss, I swear I don’t know aboot it,” said Texas. “But we cain’t turn back now. The boys have their orders an’ heah comes the herd in sight.”
“We’ll try it, win or lose,” replied Brite, grimly, stirred with the gamble.
“Hey, Reddie,” yelled Texas, waving his hand. “Come on.”
Reddie sent back a pealing cry and wheeled to ride behind the remuda. They came on in a bunch, restless and scared, though not wild. Pan Handle rode below the taking-off slope while Texas rode on the upstream side. Reddie drove her mustangs down the slope on a run. Some sheered aside below and above, only to be driven back by Pan Handle and Texas. In a moment more the leaders were pointed and with shrill snorts they plunged into the shallow river. The others followed in good order. Texas rode out with them until the water deepened perceptibly. He was yelling at the top of his voice. Pan Handle shot in front of mustangs leading out of line. Reddie, with her wild cries, drove them off the land, and when her black splashed the water high the leaders had gone off the bar and were swimming.
“WHOOPEE KID!” yelled Texas, brandishing his sombrero. “Keep upstream yoreself an’ let ’em go.”
When Texas got back to the shore the rear and broad end of the remuda was well out, and the leaders about to hit the swift current.
“Tex, we ought to have gone with her,” expostulated Pan Handle, seriously.
“Thet’s a grand hawse she’s forkin’,” said Brite, hopefully.
Texas Joe did not voice his fears or hopes, but he fixed his hawk eyes intently on that marvelous scene of action. Brite’s last count had totalled one hundred and seventy-nine mustangs in the remuda. The doughty little Spanish stock had no dislike for water. Whistling and rearing, the thickly-bunched body of ponies went off into deep water with the intrepid girl close behind, waving her sombrero and pealing her shrill cry to the skies. How her red-gold head shone in the sunlight! Once the black horse struck out into deeper water, Brite got rid of his fright. He could swim like a duck. Reddie kept him upstream to the left end of the bobbing line. Trees and logs floated into their midst, hampering the mustangs. Here and there one would fetch up to paw over the obstruction, slide off, go under, and come up to go on. Downriver swept those in the current, swiftly leaving those in the still water. But they kept on swimming, and they had plenty of leeway to clear the steep bank far below. Soon the whole remuda was in the current, and then the spectacle seemed moving and splendid to Brite. If his heart had not gone out to this orphaned girl long before she braved that flood as a part of her job and scorning help, it would have yielded to her then. The long black patch of lean heads disintegrated and lengthened and curved away downriver, a wild and beautiful sight.
A mile below where Brite and his men watched breathlessly the leaders waded out into shallow water, and the long string curved faithfully toward that point. One by one, in twos and threes, and then in bunches, the mustangs struck the bar, to bob up and heave wet shoulders out, to flounder and splash ashore. Soon the wedge-shaped line thickened as the ponies passed the swift current; and it was only a matter of a few minutes before the last horse was wading out. And Reddie Bayne bestrode him!
“Dog-gone! Thet was great,” breathed Texas.
“Shore was a pretty sight,” agreed Pan Handle.
“Wal, I reckon we had our fears for nothin’,” added Brite.
“Boss, we ought to stop her. It’s different comin’ this way. Not enough room to allow for thet current,” replied Pan Handle, anxiously.
“By Gawd, can yu beat thet!” exclaimed Texas, and whipping out his gun he shot twice. Then he waved his sombrero and yelled in stentorian tones: “GO BACK! GO BACK!”
Reddie heard, for she waved her hand in reply, and she kept coming on. In another moment her horse would be in over his depth, and the swift current, with big, muddy waves, right ahead of her. Texas shot all the remaining charges left in his gun, and he aimed so the bullets would hit the water not a great way below Reddie. Then he roared like a giant:
“TURN ABOOT! — Reddie, it ain’t the same.... DAMN YU — I’M GIVIN’ ORDERS!”
Reddie’s high-pitched, pealing cry came sweet and wild on the wind.
“Too late, Tex. She’s in now.”
“Thet’s a hawse, Brite. I say let her come,” put in Pan Handle.
Texas Joe became as an equestrian statue in bronze. The big muddy waves curled over the neck and head of the black, and up to the shoulders of the girl. They were swept downstream with a rush. But in a hundred yards the powerful horse had left the high waves and was entering the swirling, lesser current. Brite saw the girl check him to let a log pass, and again turn him downstream to avoid a huge mass of green foliage. That horse and rider knew what they were doing. Again he breasted the current with power and worked across. But he would never make the point of bar where the remuda had taken off. This worried Brite. Only so few rods below where the high bank began! Already Pan Handle was
riding down to head her off. The black, however, was coming faster than the watchers had figured. His lean head jerked high, his wet shoulders followed and with a lunge he was out of the depths into the shallows. He had made it with room to spare. Reddie came trotting ashore.
Here Texas got off his horse, and in the very extreme of rage or exasperation or something, he slammed his sombrero down, he stamped to and fro, he cursed like a drunken cowhand. Plain it was to Brite that his foreman had surrendered to the release of pent-up agony.
“Come back, Pan,” Reddie was calling, gayly. “Shore had fun. What yu think of my hawse?”
“He’s grand, but yu took a big chance, all for nothin’.”
“Yu’ll need me an’ don’t overlook thet,” declared Reddie. Then as she joined Pan Handle she espied Texas going through remarkable actions. “Gee! Our Trail boss is riled aboot somethin’.”
Soon Reddie rode up to rein in before Texas and Brite. She was something to gaze at. Pale with suppressed excitement, her eyes large and dark and daring, she sat awaiting sentence to fall. She was wringing wet to her neck. Her blouse no longer hid the swelling contour of her breast.
“Sorry I scared yu, gentlemen,” she said, a little fearfully. “But yu need me over heah an’ I had to come.”
“Reddie Bayne, I yelled to yu,” began Texas, sternly.
“Shore. I heahed yu.”
“I ordered yu back. Did yu heah thet?”
“Course I did. Laws! yu’d woke the daid.”
“Wal, then, yu have no respect for me as Trail boss of this drive?”
“I wouldn’t of turned back for Mr. Brite himself,” retorted Reddie, spiritedly. But her face had paled and her eyes were dilating.
“Yu disobeyed me again?” thundered Texas.
“Yes, I did — dammit.”
“Not only thet — yu scared us oot of our wits, just to be smart. Yu’re a spoiled girl. But yu cain’t disorganize this ootfit no more.”
“Cain’t I?” echoed Reddie, weakly.
“Reddie Bayne, yu listen. Just ‘cause yu’ve got the boss eatin’ oot of yore hand — an’ ‘cause yu’re the distractinest pretty girl — an’ ‘cause I happen to be turrible in love with yu, don’t make no damn bit of difference. Yu’re wearin’ driver’s pants, yu’re takin’ driver’s wages, yu’re pullin’ driver’s tricks.”