by Zane Grey
“Hettie, love affairs in Arizona go like fire in the dry desert grass,” said Alice, with a little laugh. “You want to watch out, doesn’t she, Frank?”
“Sure won’t do her any good to watch out,” returned Van Horn, gayly. “One of our Arizona lads is goin’ to get her.”
“Mr. Van Horn, that’s the second time to-night I’ve heard such prediction,” replied Hettie, pleasantly. “I’m sure I feel flattered.”
Soon they arrived at the Franklidge home, which stood on a bench of high ground, among stately pine trees. The girls went in to find Judge Franklidge smoking beside an open fireplace. He greeted Hettie warmly.
“Did you meet your brother?” he asked, as he placed a chair for her.
“No. Did he come in, after all?”
“Yes. He was here for an hour,” replied the judge. “Came in to talk over a cattle deal. I advised him not to buy more stock just now.”
“Was Ina with Ben?” asked Hettie.
“Sure was, and she looked powerful handsome. I wanted them to stay here overnight. But Ben said he’d rather go to the hotel, so he could be in town early. Left word if he didn’t see you at the dance that you were to meet him tomorrow at noon sharp. At Brydon’s.”
“Goodness! I’m glad we got away from the dance before Ben arrived,” exclaimed Hettie, with a rather unmirthful laugh.
“Well now, you don’t say?” queried the judge, lowering his head to gaze at her over his glasses.
“I’m afraid it’s going to be embarrassing for me when I see Ben. I’ll have to tell him I — I discharged Dillon.”
“Dillon! Clan Dillon? Did you fire him?” asked the judge, sitting up abruptly.
“I sure did,” rejoined Hettie.
“I’ll be darned. What for, lass?”
“I had reason enough, though I’m afraid Ben may not see it that way. He swears by Dillon. In fact he trusts Dillon implicitly and entertains a very high opinion of him. Well, Mr. Dillon has made it rather hard for me out at the ranch. He waylays me whenever I go outdoors. At first he didn’t do me the honor to offer marriage. But finally he got that far along, and despite my refusals he kept at it. I did not know he was to be at the dance to-night, or I wouldn’t have gone. But I danced with him, and walked with him, on the terrace — and — well, to make it short he insulted me.”
“Dad, I’m not surprised. I never liked Dillon,” interposed Alice.
At that juncture Frank Van Horn entered.
“Lass, now just how did Dillon insult you?” asked Judge Franklidge, with fire in his eye.
“He declared he was going to have me whether I wanted it or not, and I had to fight him!”
“You don’t mean he dared to lay a hand on you?” demanded the old rancher.
“Both hands, and arms, too,” laughed Hettie, though she blushed as she admitted it. “In fact, he was a ruffian. I imagine Dillon has had his way with a certain kind of women. I think he expected me to squeal, or beg — then flop into his arms. But I’m strong and I broke away from him.”
“Damned hound! Somebody ought to use a quirt on him,” ejaculated the judge, growing red in the face.
“I’d suggest a gun,” added Van Horn, with a compression of his lips.
Hettie held back a revelation of Dillon’s threat to ruin Ben and herself. Upon cool reflection she had not been sure of how Ben would react to her taking upon herself the authority to discharge Dillon. Unfortunately, Ben was used to Hettie’s complaints about the attentions his men bestowed upon her, and he had come to take them with a grain of salt.
“So I discharged Dillon,” concluded Hettie.
“You did right, lass, but how in the devil is Ben going to take that?” queried Franklidge, seriously. “He thinks a heap of this Dillon. Only to-night he was bragging about Dillon’s recovery of a bunch of cattle that’d just been rustled off into the brakes. . . . Still, come to squint at the offense, Ben can’t overlook it. He’s bound to stand by your dismissal of this foreman.”
“You don’t know my brother very well yet,” returned Hettie, shaking her head. “If he had seen Dillon insult me he’d have horsewhipped him. But Ben scouts my statements. He’s tired of hearing about these lovelorn cowboys who annoy me. He thinks I’m — well, a little too sensitive. Once he said, ‘If I was that cowboy I’d throw you on a horse and ride off with you.’ And another time when I went to him in distress he said: ‘Of course he tried to kiss you. Why shouldn’t he? You were made to be loved and kissed.’ . . . Sometimes I believe Ben is only in fun. He doesn’t mean that as it sounds. But he hasn’t so much patience with me as he used to have. I declare I don’t know how he will take this Dillon affair.”
“I’ll tell you, lass, now that you’ve expounded the situation,” replied the judge. “He’ll not uphold you. Dillon will get to him first and soften his offense, and Ben will keep him on.”
“That would be dreadful,” said Hettie. “I’ll actually be afraid of Dillon.”
“Well, the only solution to your problem, Hettie Ide, is to fall in love with some fine Arizona lad,” declared Judge Franklidge, with both kindly conviction and teasing good humor.
“Indeed!” returned Hettie, trying in vain to look haughty. Then she thought it might be just as well to drop a hint to these new friends. “I’d take your advice, Judge Franklidge — if it wasn’t for an insurmountable obstacle. . . . I can’t fall in love with a fine Arizona lad, because I’m already in love with a fine — Nevada lad!”
As the beloved name sounded off her lips Hettie felt the swift blood rise to tighten and heat her face.
The judge laughed heartily, but Alice, intuitively grasping the import beneath Hettie’s rather flippant speech, crossed over to Hettie and put an arm around her.
“Dad is as bad as Ben, dear. Come, it’s late. Let’s go to bed,” she said.
“Well, Hettie,” added the judge, in the same mirthful vein, “if I were forty years younger I’d contest this mysterious Nevadian’s right. Where is the confounded lucky jackass?”
Hettie looked back from the doorway, through which Alice was leading her.
“I do not know,” she replied, sadly.
When the door closed she heard the judge burst out: “Did you hear that, Van? It explains a lot. . . . Well, doggone me for a thick-headed fool! And I’ll gamble Ben Ide is the same.”
At breakfast next morning Judge Franklidge seemed to have undergone a subtle change. His interest in Hettie had increased, but he dispensed with the mischievous bantering. Hettie felt that in his estimation she had grown into a woman overnight, and that she had found a friend in him.
“Hettie, I’m going to be sort of a dad to you,” he said, at parting. “I’m ashamed of the way Arizona has treated you and Ben. But listen, lass. Have faith in us and this grand country. Have patience with your brother. Try to persuade him not to spend more money just now. We may have a year or two, or more, of hard times. But take the word of an old cattleman who has been through more than one rustler war. We will come out of it. These outlaws destroy themselves, I’ve a hunch some hard-shootin’ gunman will come along and do for the ringleaders. It’s happened here before. It happened lately in New Mexico. So do not lose your nerve and come to hate this beautiful country. We want you Ides to love it. We need such fine people. We are pioneers, Hettie. I’ve lost a million on cattle. But it’ll come back. And so will your losses. Likewise your happiness.”
“Judge Franklidge,” answered Hettie, smiling through her tears, “despite my weakness for Nevada — I reckon I’m Arizona’s for life.”
“Whoopee! That’s the game lass! . . . Come to see us often, Hettie. Adios.”
One of the Franklidge stable hands drove Hettie into town, so that she had time for thinking how best to approach Ben. It had not occurred to her that Ben might get a warped version of the affair from Dillon. She felt grateful to Judge Franklidge for his kindly counsel and advice. Indeed, she had felt, too, with a woman’s keenness, something in regard to the judge’s atti
tude toward Dillon — something he did not confide. Yet she sensed his friendship. He would very likely take her side, if the issue came to an argument. She decided to wait and see if Dillon had approached Ben.
Hettie, upon arriving in town, went about buying the supplies usually ordered twice a month. She and her mother had preferred to keep house in their own little cabin, a proceeding that Ina and Ben had opposed. But Mrs. Ide vowed she would never be a mother-in-law to anybody.
After she had finished her ordering, Hettie passed on down street, presently to encounter Ben. He did not look in a very good humor. There was a dark shade on his face which Hettie had learned to regret, long ago back at Tule Lake Ranch. Her heart sank a little, despite her fortitude. What if she had offended Ben?
“Ina is at the dressmaker’s,” he said, after greeting her. “Reckon it’s a good time for you to go to the bank with me.”
“Bank. What for?” she queried, as she yielded to his hand and turned back up the street.
“I’m having a certified check made out for your interest in the ranch.”
“Ben!” she cried, in amazed reproach.
“Yes, Ben,” he returned, a little testily. “Hettie, I can’t have you doing things without my knowledge. Besides, to be honest with you, I don’t want to see you lose that money. And I’m pretty certain I’ll lose all I put in cattle.”
“But, Ben, it was an investment. I played to win or lose with you,” she protested.
“I know, dear, an’ you sure are a thoroughbred. But this was a crazy deal of mine. I don’t regret it,” he added, hastily. “But I can’t feel right to have you in with me. Maybe some day, when these bad times are over.”
“Ben, something has happened since I saw you,” said Hettie, quickly.
“Reckon it has,” returned Ben, dropping his head so she could not meet his eyes. “California Red is gone!”
“Gone? Oh no, Ben!” she cried, poignantly.
He nodded disconsolately. She saw his lips quiver.
“Stolen?”
“We don’t know. He disappeared from the pasture. Raidy swears Red was stolen, that he couldn’t jump the fence. I know he could jump over the moon if he took a notion. Dillon agrees with me that Red just got away.”
“But you don’t know?” queried Hettie, sharply.
“That’s the rub, Hettie. We don’t. And there isn’t a man in my outfit who could track Red. Sure disgusted me. I tried to track him myself. Had to give up. . . . Reckon there never was but one horse hunter who could have done it.”
“Ben, you’ll get Red back,” replied Hettie, earnestly, and forthwith she launched into an eloquent speech, drawing upon the judge’s advice and optimism, and adding considerable of her own hopeful and persistent opinions as to their ultimate success and happiness in the future.
“You’re game, Hettie,” he returned, squeezing her arm. “With you and Ina and the kid I can an’ will beat this rotten deal. Reckon it’ll help some if you consent to withdraw from it.”
“I’ll consent to anything that will relieve or help you.”
They reached the bank, where presently Hettie received a certified check for her share in the transaction. She immediately deposited it to her account.
“For the time being I’ll leave it there,” she said.
“Yes, do. I might have to borrow from you,” he laughed, then with serious brow he drew her to a seat and said in a low voice, “Dillon just told me you’d discharged him.”
“Yes?” queried Hettie, lifting her chin, while the tingle and heat of battle ran along her nerves.
“Hettie, I had to countermand your order,” he went on, gravely. “Now we won’t argue about it. Dillon is the best man available. I can’t get along without him. He knows it, too. I had some trouble conciliatin’ him.”
“Oh, indeed!” retorted Hettie, biting her lips. “May I ask what Mr. Dillon told you.”
“Not much. He was sore, but he laughed, at that. Said he loved you an’ had been coaxin’ you to look upon him favorably. Then last night — at the dance — he asked you to marry him. Said you weren’t very encouragin’. Then he tried to kiss you, an’ you made a fuss an’ took it upon yourself to fire him.”
“If you believe him, Ben, why, there’s no need in my bothering you with my side of the story,” rejoined Hettie, finding her self-control.
“Reckon there’s no call to think Dillon’s a liar,” went on Ben. “The truth is, Hettie, you’re a little of a man-hater. Oh, I know — I remember, an’ I sure don’t blame you for bein’ true — to — to him. . . . But you’re hard on all these poor devils who fall in love with you. That’s the way I see it.”
“Ben Ide, I am not a man-hater,” protested Hettie.
“We won’t argue the question,” said Ben, wearily. “You an’ Ina always beat me. But please don’t misunderstand. I don’t want you to marry Dillon. He seems a fine fellow who’ll make a big man in Arizona some day. Just the same, I’d want to know him better before I’d let him have you.”
“Thank you, Ben. I can forgive you now,” murmured Hettie.
“I’d like to ask you somethin’,” went on Ben, with both concern and mirth in his look. “Did you strike Dillon last night — when he tried to kiss you?”
“Strike him? No, I certainly did not,” declared Hettie, vehemently. “I wouldn’t soil my hands on — But why do you ask that?”
“Well, he had a beautiful black eye,” replied Ben, ponderingly. “He told me he had stumbled in the dark — in his room — an’ hit a chair. Sure it could have happened. But it looked to me like a beautiful black eye that had come from a good swing an’ a hard fist. I’ve been wonderin’ if he lied to me.”
“Well, I’m wondering who gave him just what he deserved. But, Ben, if you have such faith in this Dillon, why did you wonder at all?”
“I happened to run into Dillon talkin’ to Stewart, who is Tom Day’s foreman,” replied Ben. “I heard Dillon say somethin’ about bumpin’ into a chair. Then Stewart, who’d been drinkin’, gave Dillon the horse laugh. Struck me funny, that’s all.”
“Brother dear, I hope you won’t be struck by anything funnier,” said Hettie, as she arose. “I’ve got more shopping to do, and time flies. You wished me to meet you at twelve?”
“You bet; pronto, too,” he returned. “It’s a long drive home, you know. I’ve got a lot of things to see to. But reckon I’ll make it.”
“How about Marvie?”
“He’ll be there. Marvie hunted me up an’ asked for money. I’d just given him some, before we left. The kid was intoxicated, all right.”
“Ben! You don’t mean he was drunk?” burst out Hettie, in horror.
“No. I was goin’ to tell you he was intoxicated over some girl. Wanted to buy her candy an’ presents. But, by George! I forgot I promised not to give him away. Don’t you dare give me away. . . . So long, till twelve. I’ll pick you up at Brydon’s store.”
“What a fright you gave me!” complained Hettie. “You should choose your words more carefully. As to Marvie — I think he’s in love. I saw the girl. Tell you more later.”
Hettie’s thoughts reverted to Marvie and lingered dreamily and anxiously around him until she reached the dry-goods store, where she forgot everything except the important shopping at hand.
It lacked five minutes to twelve when she labored to the front of the store, burdened by bundles, and vastly satisfied with herself that she had finished in time to meet Ben. He was punctuality itself and appreciated the same in anyone. Hettie deposited her bundles on a window seat beside the door, and looked out for Ben. He had not yet arrived.
Suddenly a man, hatless and coatless, dashed by, yelling, “Keep off the street!”
“What’s the matter with him?” asked Hettie, amused.
Several clerks came hurriedly to peep out.
“Looks like another fight,” said one of them, excitedly.
Shouting and trampling of feet followed. Across the street pedestrians hurri
edly ran into the first open doorway they happened upon. The noise ceased. Then a man entered the door where Hettie stood transfixed and thrilling.
“Hello, Matt! What’s doin’?” queried the clerk.
“Darned if I know,” replied the man. “I seen people run off the street, so I ducked in here. Just before I heard Jim Lacy was in town.”
“Who?” shouted his questioner.
“Jim Lacy. Don’t know how true it is. But somebody’s in town, you can gamble on that.”
Faces appeared at all doors and windows. Some peeped down the street, then jerked back. How ridiculous it seemed to Hettie! Yet there she stood likewise, her heart throbbing, her whole being in a state of suspense.
A shot pealed out, deep and ringing. Then bang! Another followed, almost like an echo. Silence ensued, palpitating, stifling to Hettie. What had happened? A fight! Guns! A single shout came from far down the street.
The man beside Hettie peeped out.
“By Gawd!” he ejaculated, in husky accents.
The clerk, frightened as he was, also had to look. He jerked in his head, with pale face and eyes staring, and he began to jabber.
Hettie obeyed an irresistible instinct. She peeped out. The street appeared empty. No, there was a man lying face down, not fifty feet from the door. His arms were outstretched.
“It’s Jim Lacy. I never saw him, but I know them who has,” said the man beside Hettie.
“Oh — how dreadful! . . . the dead man — there in the road — Jim Lacy?” whispered Hettie, beginning to shake and grow sick.
“No. Jim Lacy is the one comin’ up the street. . . . See his gun. It’s smokin’!”
Then Hettie, looking farther, espied a man in rider’s garb, gun in hand, stalking toward his victim. He passed him, with only a downward glance. He sheathed the gun. He strode toward the sidewalk.
His walk! His shape! A terrible piercing sensation attacked Hettie. Had she been horrified out of her senses? Was she mad? What flashed so swiftly in memory? But this man — this Jim Lacy! He was coming. He would pass the door.