by Zane Grey
“Thet shore won’t save Randolph.”
“Oh, this awful West!” screamed Mrs. Durland. “You’re all alike. Cowboys — robbers — traders — Indians — scientists! You’re a mob of deceiving bloody villains.”
“Madam, I reckon it ain’t goin’ to be pleasant round heah. You an’ your dandy Jim better leave pronto.”
“Leave! Where and how? That man drove our guide away. We can’t saddle and pack horses, and much less find our way out of this hellish hole.”
“Take yourself off then, out of sight,” he continued, harshly, and turned to come toward Randolph and Janey, his gun low, but unmistakably menacing. Diego, Mohave, Zoroaster, and Tay-Tay came striding after him. The musical jingling of their spurs did not harmonize with their demeanor.
Ray fixed Janey with a cold penetrating stare. She realized that for him, as a glorious entity — a girl to worship — she had ceased to exist. This escapade of Randolph’s had ruined her with Ray beyond redemption. Janey was afraid to look in the faces of the others, for fear she would see the same condemnation. It was a sickening conception. It added fuel to the fire of her roused wrath at the perpetrator of this situation.
“You beat it,” ordered Ray, with a slight motion of his gun, signifying that Janey was to get out.
“What for?” she asked, sharply.
“This heah ain’t no place for a — a woman,” he replied. He was going to say lady. Janey saw the word forming on his lips, but he changed it. She was no longer an object of respect, even to these crude cowboys. Her spirit flamed at them, at herself, at Randolph.
“After what I’ve gone through, I can stand anything. I’ll stay,” she said, heatedly.
He gave her a strange glance. What eyes he had — like hot blades! No man had ever dared to look at her with such unveiled disillusion.
“Randolph, stand up an’ stick out your hands,” ordered Ray. The archaeologist looked up, disclosing a dark set face and eyes that matched the cowboy’s!
“You go to hell,” he replied, coolly. “Fellars, jerk him up off thet pack an’ tie his hands behind him.”
This order was carried out almost as soon as Ray had spoken. Randolph was a bound man.
“Thanks,” returned Ray. “But I ain’t aimin’ to go where you belong... We don’t care pertickler to heah your musical voice either, but if you’re any kind of man you’ll say whether you kidnaped Miss Endicott or not.”
“Certainly I did, you knuckle-headed cowpuncher,” retorted Randolph.
“You heah thet, boys?” called Ray, imperiously.
“We shore heerd him,” yelled the others as one man.
“Fetch a lasso,” ordered Ray, dragging Randolph forward. “An’ look fer a cedar high enough to hang this guy.”
They moved off in a body toward the cedars, leaving Janey almost paralyzed. She saw them stop under one of the first trees. They were talking in low tones. Evidently Randolph spoke. The cowboys guffawed in ridicule. Then Mrs. Durland and Bert hurried up to Janey.
“What are they going to do?” panted Mrs. Durland.
“Hang him,” whispered Janey, in awe.
“Serve him quite right,” declared the woman, nodding in great satisfaction. “If only they had that dirty Black Dick, too!”
Janey broke from her trance and ran the short distance to the group. She heard the Durlands following. Janey would have been at her wit’s end without the fright that had inhibited her. Certainly she would have to do something. If she gave way to a growing idea that the situation was beyond her — what might not happen? She gathered there had been an argument between Ray and the cowboys, for she heard sharp words on each side, and then suddenly at her approach they were silent. Randolph appeared less upset than any of them. The look of Ray gave Janey an icy chill. She had not been much frightened at Black Dick. But this lean-faced cowboy! All in a flash her hatred of Randolph and her unworthy passion for revenge were as if they had never been. She seemed as vacillating as a weather vane.
“Ray — wh-what are you going to do to him?” she asked, struggling to control her voice.
“We’re going to make it the last time this fake scientist kidnaps a girl,” replied Ray.
“But — that rope! You can’t really hang a man for so little. Why, you’d hang too if you did such a thing. There’d be an investigation.”
“Real kind of you, Miss, to worry aboot us,” returned Ray, ironically. “Duty and the law are one and the same in Arizona. By hangin’ this fellar we save the government expenses of keeping him in jail.”
“But he didn’t do anything so — so very terrible,” went on Janey, still struggling.
“Look heah, young woman,” said Ray, sharply. “Randolph kidnaped you, didn’t he?”
“Yes,” admitted Janey.
“Wal, thet’s plenty. But it shore wasn’t all — now, was it?” questioned the cowboy, his piercing suspicious eyes on hers. His jealousy probed the secret and his naturally primitive mind made deductions.
Janey blushed a burning scarlet. It was a hateful thing to feel before those keen-eyed boys who had revered her. It had as much to do with an upflashing of furious shame as the recollection of Randolph’s one unforgivable indignity.
“Fellars, look at her face. Red as a beet!!” ejaculated Ray, passionately.
“Aw, Ray, cut it,” burst out Mohave. “Ain’t you overdoin’ it, Ray?” asked Zoroaster, darkly.
“Y-y-y-y-you—” stuttered Tay-Tay, in unmistakable protest. But he never achieved coherent speech.
“Damn you all! Shut up!” hissed Ray, in a deadly wrath. If his comrades meant to intercede on Janey’s behalf, at least to save her from insult, he certainly intimidated them for the time being.
“Miss Endicott, you can’t say honest that Randolph didn’t mistreat you,” asserted rather than asked Ray. He was a hard man to face and Janey, strangely agitated, yet still not roused, was not equal to it. Besides his words were like stinging salt in a raw wound.
“No matter what he did — you can’t hang him,” burst out Janey. Ray turned purple. The other cowboys subtly changed.
“Wal, for Gawd’s sake!” bawled out Ray. “Ain’t thet jest like a woman?”
“An’ he stole my hoss, too,” added Mohave, darkly.
“But, Mohave, my father would buy you a hundred horses,” spoke up Janey, eagerly.
“Say, Miss, what’s your father got to do with this?” demanded Ray. “He didn’t steal the hoss. Randolph did. An’ thet’s as bad as stealin’ you. Course Arizona has quit hangin’ hoss thieves. But when you put the two together, why it’s shore a hangin’ case... Miss Endicott, your friend Randolph ain’t only a villain. He’s a coward.”
“I’m beginning to think a lot of things about you,” retorted Janey, hotly. “And one of them is — you’re a liar!”
Ray flinched as if he had been lashed with a whip. His eyes burned and his face became like flint.
“Wal, I ain’t no kidnaper of girls — whether they’re innocent — or not,” he said, coarsely.
Randolph turned half round to look at the circle of cowboys behind him.
“Fellows, I’ll be perfectly willing to be hanged if you’ll grant me one request.”
“You talk to me,” ground out Ray. “I’m boss of this rodeo. What you want?”
“I’d like my hands untied so I can beat your dirty loud mouth shut,” replied Randolph, ringingly.
Ray completely lost control of himself, and lunging out, he struck Randolph a sounding blow, knocking him flat.
“Oh, you dirty coward!” cried Janey. “To strike a man whose hands are tied!”
Mrs. Durland screamed: “They’re all outlaws, blacklegs, murderers!”
It was Tay-Tay who assisted Randolph to rise to his feet. Blood was flowing from his mouth.
“Mebbe thet’ll keep your mug shet,” declared Ray.
“Say, Ray, this ain’t gettin’ us anywheres,” interposed Mohave. “Mebbe we’re far enough.”
“Mov
e along, Randolph,” ordered Ray, shoving his gun into Randolph’s side. He forced the archaeologist to walk on to a point under a high-branched cedar. “Somebody throw a rope over thet limb.”
But nobody complied with this order. Again Janey intuitively guessed that this situation had not been what it looked on the face. The cowboys were a divided group. Ray was deadly, implacable. No doubting his real intention! Janey had sensed his jealousy and now realized his brutality. But another sharp scrutiny of the other faces convinced Janey that with them it had been a well- acted jest, which Ray was trying to drive to earnest. But he would never succeed. Janey racked her brain for some expedient to circumvent him.
Ray snatched the lasso from Mohave and threw the noose end over the branch, pulled it down, and with the skillful dexterity of a cowboy tossed the loop over Randolph’s head.
“Thar’s your necktie, Mr. Kidnaper,” he said, with fiendish satisfaction.
Mohave seemed to pull himself together. Janey caught his quick significant glance at Diego, and she took her cue from that.
“Wal, I’m pullin’ the rope,” announced Mohave, stepping forward.
“Nothin’ doin’... I’m the little man who hangs this gent. It’s my rope,” replied Zoroaster.
“I weel pull the rope,” said Diego, impressively.
“W-w-w-wh-where do I come in?” stammered Tay-Tay, evidently offended.
Janey was now almost certain of her ground, except for the silent Ray.
“Gentlemen, let me decide which of you shall have the honor of being the first to crack Randolph’s neck,” interrupted Janey, with entire change of front.
They gaped at her, nonplussed. Ray’s tense face relaxed to a slight sardonic grin. Janey feared him. The majority would rule here. Besides she had an idea.
“Let me decide, please,” she continued. “F-f-f-fair enough,” said Tay- Tay.
“Pick me, Miss Janey. I’m the strongest,” entreated Mohave, who seemed to be returning to his natural self.
The others, excepting Ray, loudly acclaimed their especial fittingness for the job.
“I can’t show any favoritism among you boys,” went on Janey. “Lay down your guns. Then blindfold me. I’ll pick one of them up and whoever owns that gun shall have the first pull.”
“Fine idee,” declared Mohave, and then deposited his gun at Janey’s feet. One by one the others gravely complied, until it came to Ray. He held the lasso in one hand and his gun in the other. Janey feared he would block her daring scheme, which was to get possession of all the guns and hold up the cowboys.
“Bert!” gasped Mrs. Durland. “She’s a barbarian! A fit consort for the likes of these!... To think I ever allowed you to anticipate marrying such an impossible creature!”
“That’ll be aboot all from you, Madam,” retorted Ray, threateningly.
“Come, Ray, your gun,” called Janey, in a nervous hurry. “Who’ll lend me a scarf?”
“You’re smart, but you can’t fool me,” rejoined Ray, darkly. “I don’t lay down my gun fer no woman. I’m onto you, Miss... Now you easy-mark cowpunchers, jest step back. Stop! Never mind pickin’ up them guns.”
Slowly the cowboys edged back, and Janey with them. At that moment Ray was more to be feared than Black Dick had ever been. Ray had this game beaten and knew it. He exchanged rope and gun from one hand to the other. With a quick pull he tightened the noose hard around Randolph’s neck, straining his body, lifting him a little.
“Reckon it’s a doubtful honor, but I’ll have it myself,” he said, his cold eyes on Janey.
“My God! — Ray! You don’t mean to go on with it?” cried Janey, finding her voice.
“I shore do. I’ve got the goods on Randolph. You accused him, an’ he confessed. Everybody present heard you both. An’ there ain’t a court in Arizona that’d hold me fer a day.”
He was triumphant and malignant. Fierce jealousy had brought out the evil in him. Janey had a terrible realization of her guilt — for she had flirted with this hot-headed cowboy. She had looked upon him with caressing eyes; she had listened to his sentimental talk and led him on. What an idiot she had been! Vain, detestably bent on conquest — heartless, wrong. Ray resembled a devil and he certainly had overwhelming odds in his favor. Janey seemed to be sinking in stupefied terror. Almost blindly she stepped out.
“Ray — for God’s sake — don’t — don’t add murder to this — this thing,” she implored.
“So! You’re intercedin’ fer a man you swore treated you outrageous?” sneered Ray.
“Yes. I beg of you. Don’t let your — your — whatever actuates you — go any farther. Cool down. Think!”
“I’ve been thinkin’ all right,” he rejoined, with brooding intimation.
“Randolph did not kidnap me,” spoke up Janey, gathering strength. “I came with him willingly.”
“What’s thet?” snarled Ray, almost crouching.
Randolph responded with his first show of perturbation. “Ray, don’t you believe a word she says. She’s trying to clear me by implicating herself.”
“Wal, she’s a liar all right, but mebbe this is straight,” said Ray, somberly. “Say, gurl, if you come willin’ — what was it fer?”
“One reason was I wanted to get a kick out of it,” replied Janey, coolly. “I was sort of blasé. Tired of ordinary life. I wanted something new, different.”
“Ahuh! An’ how aboot this heah outrageous treatment?” asked Ray, gruffly.
To have saved Randolph’s life Janey could not have stayed the coursing flame of red that burned from neck to face. But her spirit flamed likewise.
“I disobeyed him,” she confessed, bravely. “He — he chastised me... I deserved it.”
“Haw! Haw! Haw!” guffawed Ray, loudly, mirthlessly. That laugh contained bitter doubt, scorn, hate.
“Ray, I’m afeared I hear hosses,” interrupted Mohave, sharply.
“So, you come willin’, huh?” he questioned, with terrible eyes on Janey. “Liked to be treated out-rag-eous, huh? Wanted a new different kick, huh?... Wal, now watch your lover kick!”
Ray was a bully and a brute. But he did not know the fiber of the girl he had so grossly insulted. That was all Janey required to find herself. As Ray bent down to stretch the lasso over his hip, dragging Randolph to the tip of his toes, she sprang forward. She grasped the tightening rope above Randolph’s head and pulled it loose. Then she confronted Ray.
“Stop, you madman!” she cried, imperiously. “Don’t you dare — If you do I’ll kill you!”
“Wal, fer Gawd’s sake!” ejaculated Ray, surprised into his usual expression, and he momentarily slackened the lasso.
Quick as a flash Janey seized the noose and flipped it from Randolph’s neck.
“Listen, cowboy!” she said. “What business is it of yours? If Randolph and I wanted to come out here to Beckyshibeta and lie about it that was our business. But it’s gone too far for jokes now.”
Janey backed up against Randolph and took his arm.
“Shore it’s gone too far!” furiously returned Ray, recovering from his amazement. “An’ you haven’t give me one reason why he shouldn’t hang.”
“Very well, I’ll try another,” said Janey, with calm proud exterior, while inwardly she was in a state of exaltation. “I love him. Can you understand that?... I love him!”
For a long moment all her hearers seemed petrified. Ray looked shocked into credulous defeat. Then he choked out: “You white-faced slut!”
“Shet up!” yelled Mohave, sternly. “Heah comes Bennet an’ some Indians... Mr. Endicott, too... all ridin’ like hell! Cool down, Ray, or you’ll get yours!”
CHAPTER 12
THE INSTANT JANEY had a close scrutiny of her father’s face, which was when he reined his horse before the group, she knew his gay greeting and nonchalant survey of them had no depth. He had always been a capital actor, but he could not deceive his daughter.
“Hello, Janey,” he had called out, before reaching them.
“How are you? Little white, aren’t you, for a modern amazon?”
Janey’s emotion, whatever its great extent, suffered a swift transition to fury. Nevertheless she had wit enough to remember that this was no time to play against her father. Her cue was to be miserable and happy at one and the same time. At that she need only be natural.
“Howdy, Phillip,” said Endicott, genially, sitting his horse at ease and gazing down upon the center of this motionless group. “Bet you’re glad I arrived. Sorry we are rather late. But that darned storm turned us back.”
Janey removed herself from Randolph’s proximity. What had she said and done? She did not regret it, but the lofty spirit, which had prompted it, was failing. Randolph stood there, pale, with gleaming eyes and bloody lips, his hands still bound behind him. The noose that Janey had thrown off dangled not far above his head. The cowboys stood on uneasy feet. Ray still held his gun, and it was manifest that a dim realization of his part in this farce had dawned upon him. He was sweating now. The guns of the other cowboys lay where they had deposited them.
Mr. Endicott surveyed this scene with the air of a Westerner of long experience. He was too cool. Then he spotted the Durlands, and doffed his sombrero.
“Good day, Mrs. Durland. Hello, Bert. I hope you have had a nice little visit with Janey and her fiancé.”
If anything could have struck fire from Mrs. Durland that speech might have done so, but she was beyond words. But Bert, now that danger had passed, showed an ugly temper.
“We’ve had a rotten visit, if you want to know,” he howled. “We’ve been deceived, insulted, beaten and robbed.”
“Robbed! Oh, not quite that, I’m sure,” replied Endicott, laughing. “No doubt Randolph’s a desperate character, but I can’t believe he’d steal.”
“We were held up and robbed by Black Dick and his partner,” continued Bert, hotly.
“All my diamonds — and money — gone!” wailed Mrs. Durland.
“Indeed. That’s too bad. It’s something of a shock,” returned Endicott, solicitously. “But I’ll make your losses good. You see, I didn’t calculate on a real desperado.” Here he laughed. “It’s all a little joke of mine. I wanted Janey to have a scare. So I persuaded Randolph to run off with her. My plan was to send the cowboys the very same day. But they didn’t get back, and when they did the washes were flooded by the storm.”