by Zane Grey
A huge cowhand, red of face and ragged of garb, hailed the members of Brite’s outfit in camp.
“On the last laig to Dodge! I’ll be drunker’n hell soon,” he yelled, and waved his hand.
Brite got going again on the fifth day, with cattle and remuda rested, but with his cowboys ragged as scarecrows, gaunt and haggard, wearing out in all except their unquenchable spirit.
They had company at every camp. Snake Creek, Salt Creek, Bear Creek, Bluff Creek, and at last Mulberry Creek only a few miles out of Dodge.
That night the sun went down gloriously golden and red over the vast, level prairie. Ranchers called on the trail drivers.
“Dodge is shore a-hummin’ these days,” said one. “Shootin’, drinkin’, gamblin’! — They’re waitin’ for yu boys — them painted women an’ black-coated caird sharps.”
“WHOOPEE!” yelled the cowboys, in lusty passion. But Deuce Ackerman was silent. Texas Joe took a sly look at the downcast Reddie, and with a wink at Brite he drawled:
“Gosh! I’m glad I’m free. Just a no-good cowhand in off the Trail with all the hell behind! Boss, I want my pay pronto. I’ll buck the tiger. I’ll stay sober till I bore thet rustler Hite. Then me for one of them hawk-eyed gurls with a pale face an’ painted lips an’ bare arms an’ — —”
“Yes, yu air a no-good cowhand,” blazed Reddie, furiously. “Oh, I — I’m ashamed of yu. I — I hate yu!... To give in to the bottle — to some vile hussy — when — when all the time our boys — our comrades lay daid oot there on the prairie. How can yu — do — it?”
“Thet’s why, Reddie,” replied Texas Joe, suddenly flayed. “It shore takes a hell of a lot to make a man forget the pards who died for him.... An’ I have nothin’ else but likker an’ a painted — —”
“Oh, but yu have!” she cried, in ringing passion. “Yu fool! Yu fool!”
CHAPTER XVI
DODGE CITY WAS indeed roaring. Brite likened the traffic in the wide street, the dust, the noise, the tramp of the throng to a stampede of cattle on the trail.
After the drive in to the pastures, and the count, Brite had left the cowboys and the wagon, and had ridden to town with Reddie. He had left her asleep in her room at the hotel, where she had succumbed at sight of a bed. He hurried to the office of Hall and Stevens, with whom he had had dealings before. He was welcomed with the eagerness of men who smelled a huge deal with like profit.
“Brite, you’re a ragamuffin,” declared the senior member of the firm. “Why didn’t you rid yourself of that beard? And those trail togs?”
“Tomorrow is time enough for thet. I want to sell an’ go to bed. What’re yu payin’ this month?”
“We’re offerin’ twelve dollars,” replied the cattle-buyer, warily.
“Not enough. My count is five thousand an’ eighty-eight. Call it eighty even. Fine stock an’ fairly fat.”
“What do you want?”
“Fifteen dollars.”
“Won’t pay it. Brite, there are eighty thousand head of cattle in.”
“Nothin’ to me, Mr. Hall. I have the best stock.”
“Thirteen dollars.”
“Nope. I’ll run over to see Blackwell,” replied Brite, moving toward the door.
“Fourteen. That’s my highest. Will you sell?”
“Done. I’ll call tomorrow sometime for a certified check. Meanwhile send yore cowhands down to take charge.”
“Thanks, Brite. I’m satisfied if you are. Cattle movin’ brisk. How many head will come up the Trail before the snow flies?”
“Two hundred thousand.”
Hall rubbed his hands. “Dodge will be wide open about the end of August.”
“What is it now? I’m goin’ to get oot quick.”
“Won’t you need some cash to pay off?”
“Shore. I forgot. Make it aboot two thousand five hundred. Good day.”
Brite wrestled his way back to the hotel, landing there out of breath and ready to drop. He paid a negro porter five dollars to pack up a tub of water. Then he took a bath, shaved, and went to bed, asleep before he hit the pillow.
What seemed but a moment later a knocking at his door awakened him.
“Dad, air yu daid?” called a voice that thrilled him.
“Come in.”
Reddie entered, pale, with hollow eyes and strained cheeks, but sweet to gaze upon. She sat down upon the bed beside him.
“Yu handsome man! All clean shaved an’ nice. Did yu buy new clothes?”
“Not yet. I left thet till this mawnin’.”
“It’s ten o’clock. When did yu go to bed?”
“At four. Sixteen hours! Oh, I was daid to the world.”
“Where is — air the boys?”
“Also daid asleep. Don’t worry. They’ll straggle in late today, lookin’ for money.”
“Dad, do me a favor?”
“Shore. Anythin’ yu want.”
“Don’t give the cowboys — at least Texas Jack — a-any money right away.”
“But, honey, I cain’t get oot of it,” protested Brite, puzzled. “Soon as he comes heah.”
“Will he want to — to get drunk — as he bragged an’ — an’ — —”
She dropped her head to the pillow beside Brite’s.
“Shore. They’ll all get drunk.”
“Could I keep Jack from thet?” she whispered.
“I reckon yu could. But it’ll cost a lot. Do yu care enough aboot him, lass?”
“Oh!... I — I love him!”
“Wal, then, it’ll be easy, for thet fire-eatin’ hombre loves the ground yu ride on.”
“Have I yore consent?”
“Why child!”
“But yu’re my Dad. I cain’t remember my real one.”
“Yu have my blessin’, dear. An’ I think the world of Texas Joe. He’s the salt of the earth.”
“Could yu let him quit trail drivin’? Because if he drove I’d have to go, too.”
“Reddie, I got a fortune for thet herd. Which reminds me I still have ninety-two hawses to sell.”
“But yu cain’t sell mine.”
“We’ll leave him with Selton, to be sent south with the first ootfit.”
She leaped up, flushed and happy, with tears like pearls on her tanned cheeks and eyes of sweet, thoughtful shadows.
“Hurry. Get up an’ dress. Take me oot to buy things. A girl’s! Oh, I will not know what to buy. It’s like a dream.... Hurry, Dad. I wouldn’t dare go alone.”
“I should smile yu wouldn’t.”
When she ran out Brite made short work of getting into his torn and trail-stained rags. Soon they were on their way down the main street of Dodge. It presented a busy scene, but the roar was missing. Too early in the day! Reddie was all eyes. She missed nothing. Cowboys, gamblers, teamsters, negroes, Mexicans, Indians, lined the street, waiting for something to begin.
Brite took Reddie into Denman’s big merchandise store, where he turned her over to a woman clerk to give her the best of everything and not consider expense. Then he hastened to purchase an outfit for himself. That did not require long, but he encountered a trail driver, Lewis by name, and in exchanging experiences time flew by. Hurrying back, he found Reddie dazed and happy, sitting amid a circle of parcels. They had a merry and a toilsome job packing their purchases back to the hotel. Reddie barred herself in with her precious possessions.
Some time later a tap on Brite’s door interrupted the finishing-touches of his dressing.
“Come in,” he answered.
Texas Joe entered, his lean, handsome face shining despite its havoc.
“Mawnin’ boss,” he drawled. “My, but yu’re spruced up fine.”
“Yes, an’ yu’ll be feelin’ like me pronto. How’s the boys?”
“I don’t know. Asleep I reckon. They come in town to go to bed. I’ll find them some place.”
“Where’s Pan Handle?”
“Sleepin’ to quiet his nerves. Boss, he’ll be lookin’ for Hite before t
he day’s oot.”
“Tex, if I asked yu as a particular favor, would yu give up goin’ on a debauch an’ take first stage with me an’ Reddie?”
“Boss, yu’re askin’ too much. Somethin’ turrible, or mebbe wonderful, has gotta come between me an’ thet hell-rattlin’ drive.”
“I understand. But do this for me. Go with me to Hall’s office, then to the bank. An’ I’ll take yu to the store where I bought this ootfit.”
“Thet’s easy. I’ll stick to yu shore till I get my money. Clean broke, boss. Not a two-bit piece. An’ I had some money when we left Santone. My Gawd! will I ever see thet town again?”
“Shore yu will. Come on.”
They went out into the street. “Boss, would yu mind walkin’ on my left side. I might have to clear for action, yu know. If we meet Hite — wal! our pard Pan is gonna be left.”
But nothing happened on their several errands. Upon returning to the hotel, Texas engaged a room and proceeded to get rid of the stains and rags of the Chisholm Trail. Brite went to Blackwell, where he sold the remuda for twenty dollars a head. He was treading the clouds when he got back to the hotel. Cattlemen he knew engaged him in spirited inquiry about the resourcefulness of Texas. Men and women, some of them flashily dressed, passed through the lobby to the dining-room. Brite noted a very pretty young lady, in gayly colorful array, pass to and fro as if on parade. He observed that she had attracted the attention of a frock-coated gambler. And when he accosted her, Brite decided he had better make sure the girl wanted this kind of attention. When he strode over, what was his amaze and consternation to hear the girl say in a sharp familiar voice: “Heah, Mr. Flowery Vest, if I was packin’ my gun I’d shoot yore laig off!”
“Reddie!” burst out Brite, beside himself.
“Hello, Dad. An’ yu didn’t know me! Lend me yore gun.”
The gambler fled. Brite gazed speechless at his adopted daughter, unable to believe his own sight.
“Reddie, darlin’, is it yu?”
“Shore it’s me. Thet is, I think an’ feel it is ‘cept when I look in thet mirror.... Oh, Dad! I feel so strange — so tormented — so happy. Thet woman was smart. She picked oot all these things for me.... Do I look — nice?”
“Nice! — Reddie, yu air the sweetest thing I ever seen. I am knocked flat. I am so glad I could bust. An’ to think yu’re my lass.”
“I’d hug yu — if we was anywhere else.... Dad, will he like me — this way?”
“He! — Who?”
“Texas Jack, of course.”
“Like yu? He’ll fall on his knees if yu give him a chance.”
“Oh!” She started, with dark bright eyes widening. “There’s Texas now. Oh, I hardly knew him.... Dad, stand by me now. I wouldn’t say my happiness is at stake — or all of it — but my love is.... If I’ve only got — the nerve — —”
“Remember Wallen, honey, an’ thet day of the stampede,” was all Brite had time to say, when Texas Joe transfixed him and Reddie in one lightning flash of falcon eyes.
“Boss! — Who — who — —”
“Jack, don’t yu know me?” Reddie asked, roguishly. Brite marveled at the woman of her — so swift to gain mastery over her weakness.
“For Gawd’s sake!” gasped Texas.
“Come Jack,” she cried, clasping his arm and then Brite’s, and dragging them away. “We’ll go up to Dad’s room. I’ve somethin’ to say — to yu.”
All the way up the stairs and down the hall Texas Joe seemed in a trance. But Reddie talked about the town, the people, the joy of their deliverance from the bondage of the Trail. Then they were in Brite’s room with the door shut.
Reddie subtly changed. She tossed her dainty bonnet on the bed as if she had been used to such finery all her life.
“Jack, do yu like me?” she asked, sweetly, facing him with great dark eyes aglow, and she turned round for his benefit.
“Yu’re staggerin’ lovely, Reddie,” he replied. “I’d never have knowed yu.”
“This ootfit is better then them tight pants I used to wear?”
“Better! Child, yu’re a boy no more,” he said, wistfully. “Yu’re a girl — a lady. An’ no one who knowed yu would want to see yu go back now.”
“Yu’d never dare spank me in this dress, would yu?”
Texas flushed red to the roots of his tawny hair. “Gawd, no! An’ I never did spank yu as a girl.”
“Yes, yu did. Yu knew me. Yu saw me bathin’ in the creek thet day.... Naked! Don’t yu dare deny thet.”
It was a torturing moment for Texas and he seemed on the rack. “Never mind. I forgive yu. Who knows? Mebbe but for thet.... Jack, heah is what I want to say? — Will yu give up goin’ on a drunk?”
“Sorry, Miss Bayne, but I cain’t. Thet’s a trail driver’s privilege. An’ any human bein’ wouldn’t ask him not to drown it all.”
“Not even for me?”
“I reckon — not even for yu.”
She slowly drew close to him, as white as if sun and wind had never tanned her face, and her dark purple eyes shone wondrously.
“If I kiss yu — will yu give it up?... Once yu begged for a kiss.”
Texas laughed mirthlessly. “Funny, thet idee. Yu kissin’ me!”
“Not so funny, Jack,” she flashed, and seizing his coat in strong hands she almost leaped at his lips. Then she fell back, released him, sank momentarily against him, and stepped back. Texas Joe, with corded jaw in restraint, bent eyes of amber fire upon her. They had forgotten Brite or were indifferent to his presence.
“Wal, yu did it. Yu kissed me. An’ I’m ashamed of yu for it.... Reddie Bayne, yu cain’t buy my freedom with a kiss.”
“Oh, Jack, it’s not yore freedom I want to buy. It’s yore salvation.”
“Bah! What’s life to me?” he retorted, stern-lipped and somber-eyed. “I want to carouse, to fight, to kill, to sleep drunk — drunk — drunk.”
“I know, Jack. Oh, I think I understand. Wasn’t I a trail driver, too? An’ do I want these awful things? No! No! An’ I want to save yu from them.... Yu madden me with yore cold.... Jack, spare me an’ end it — quick.”
“I’m sparin’ yu more’n yu know, little lady,” he replied, darkly passionate.
“Shore somethin’ will coax yu oot of this hell-givin’ idee.... What? I’ll do anythin’ — anythin’ — —”
He seized her in strong arms and lifted her off her feet against his breast.
“Yu’d marry me?”
“Oh yes — yes — yes!”
“But why, girl? Why?” he demanded in a frenzy of doubt.
Reddie flung her arms around his neck and strained to reach and kiss his quivering cheek. “‘Cause I love yu, Jack — so turrible!”
“Yu love me, Reddie Bayne?”
“I do. I do.”
“Since — when?” he whispered, playing with his joy.
“Thet day — when Wallen came — an’ yu — saved me.”
He kissed her hair, her brow, her scarlet cheek, and at last the uplifted mouth.
“Aw, Reddie! — Aw! It was worth goin’ through — all thet hell — for this.... Girl, yu’ve got to kill the devil in me.... When will yu marry me?”
“Today — if yu — must have me,” she whispered, faintly. “But I — I’d rather wait — till we get back to dad’s — to Santone, my home.”
“Then we’ll wait,” he rang out, passionately. “But we must leave today, darlin’.... This Dodge town is brewin’ blood for me.”
“Oh, let’s hurry,” she cried, and slipping out of his arms she turned appealingly to Brite. “Dad, it’s all settled. We’ve made up. When can yu take us away?”
“Today, an’ pronto, by thunder,” replied Brite, heartily. “Pack yore old duds an’ go to the stage office at the east end of the street. We’ve got plenty of time. But go there pronto. It’s a safer place to wait. I will pay off an’ rustle to meet yu there.”
Brite spent a fruitless hour trying to locate the cowboys. U
pon returning to the hotel, with the intention of leaving their wages, as well as their share of the money found on the stampeder Wallen, he encountered Pan Handle, vastly changed in garb and face, though not in demeanor.
“Hullo, Pan. Lookin’ for yu. Heah’s yore wages as a trail driver an’ yore share — —”
“Brite, yu don’t owe me anythin’,” returned the gunman, smiling.
“Heah! None of thet or we’re not friends,” retorted Brite, forcing the money upon him. “I’m leavin’ in an hour by stage with Tex an’ Reddie. They made it up, an’ we’re all happy.”
“Fine! — I’m shore glad. I’ll go to the stage to see yu off.”
“Pan, hadn’t yu better go with us, far as Abiline, anyway?”
“Wal, no, much as I’d like to. I’ve somebody to see heah yet.”
“Wal, I’m sorry. Will yu take this wad of bills an’ pay off those fire-eaters of mine.”
“Shore will. But they’re heah, just round on the side porch.”
“Let’s get thet over, pronto,” said Brite, fervently. Strange how he wanted to see the last of these faithful boys!
Holden sat on the porch steps, while Ackerman and Little leaned arm in arm on the rail. They still wore their ragged trail garb, minus the chaps, but their faces were clean and bright from recent contact with razor and soap.
“Howdy, boss. Got any money?” asked Rolly, lazily, with a grin.
“Shore. I have it heah waitin’ for yu — wages, an’ bonus, too. Thet share of Wallen’s money amounts to more’n all yore wages.”
“Boss, I’m gonna take ten to blow in, an’ want yu to put the rest in somebody’s hands to keep for me,” said Ackerman, keenly. “Yu know I’m not trailin’ back to Texas.”
“We’ll miss yu, Deuce.”
Less Holden stood up, lithe and clean cut, with warm glance on the money about to be handed to him.
“Dog-gone yu! Rolly, gimme thet quirt,” drawled Deuce, mildly.
“Darn if I will,” rejoined Little, holding the quirt behind his back.