Collected Works of Zane Grey

by Zane Grey

  “Wal, you followed up thet exchange by spillin’ blood, didn’t you?” queried Lowrie, sarcastically, his little gimlet eyes wavering like a compass needle.

  “Forced on me, damn you! An’ you know it. Your lousy K Bar foreman hounded me all day. He was drunk an’ crazy. I had to meet him. At that it was an even break. An’ there’s some decent Montana cowmen who patted me on the back for doin’ it.... I left Montana to save my outfit from fight-in’ on my account.”

  “Thet’s your story, but—”

  “It’s true,” interrupted Kalispel, in ringing passion. “An’ you’re a liar!”

  Borden propelled himself into the argument by advancing a couple of nervous strides and exploding furiously. “Lowrie, are you going to arrest this cowboy beggar?”

  “Shore I am,” replied the sheriff, gruffly.

  “Like hell you are!” rang out Kalispel, contemptuously. “Handcuff the bully!” shouted Borden, his discolored face ugly with ungovernable fury.

  “Shet up,” rasped Lowrie, giving way to more than exasperation. Uncertainty sat visibly upon him.

  “Put irons on me? Haw! Haw! That’s funny.... Why, you damn fools! Where is this bluff going to get you?”

  “Emerson, I’m arrestin’ you. If you submit peaceful I’ll take you along without irons. We’re goin’ on the noon stage. An’ this time tomorrow you’ll be under the roof of a Montana jail.”

  Kalispel believed he had gauged his man correctly. But slowly he froze to the consciousness that he might be wrong and that Lowrie, egged on by Borden and his stand before the gaping crowd, might try to go through with it. Kalispel sank a little in his tracks and stiffened, all except his quivering right hand, now low at his side.

  “Lowrie, long before tomorrow you’ll be under the sod — if you press this deal any farther.”

  “What! Air you threatenin’ me?” blustered the officer. “No. I’m just tellin’ you.”

  Lowrie edged a foot forward.

  “Look out!” cried Kalispel, piercingly. Then, as the other became like an upright stone, Kalispel went on, coldly. “Old-timer, if you’d moved your hand then, instead of your foot, it’d been all day with you.”

  “What!” bellowed the sheriff. “You’d draw on — me?”

  “I’ll kill you!”

  Lowrie’s visage turned a livid white. His attitude appeared suggestive of inward collapse. It was plain that he had not expected resistance, let alone a deadly menace that held the spectators rooted in their tracks. A moment of intense suspense passed. Then Kalispel relaxed out of his crouch.

  “I had you right, Lowrie. You’re just what they call you in Montana — a blow-hard sheriff, yellow to your gizzard. Now get out of Salmon. If you don’t, an’ I run into you again, you throw a gun or I’ll shoot your leg off.”

  “I’m not matchin’ gun-play with a killer,” replied Lowrie, hoarsely.

  “No? Then what the hell kind of a sheriff are you in these days? — Rustle now.”

  Lowrie wheeled as on a pivot and rapidly strode down the street. Borden backed away as if desirous of losing himself in the crowd.

  “Hey, you! Hold on!” called Kalispel.

  Borden turned a distorted face expressive of an impotent wrath.

  “Did you get a message from me last night?” demanded Kalispel.

  “No,” replied Borden, harshly.

  “Well, I sent one. An’ here it is.... You steer damn good an’ clear of me.”

  “Emerson, you add insult to injury,” fumed Borden, his pale eyes glaring. “Last night you assaulted me for something I was innocent of. A mistake.... I opened the wrong door.... An accident misunderstood by a tenderfoot girl scared out of her—”

  “Accident, hell!” shouted Kalispel, just as keen to have the crowd hear as was Borden “You hounded that girl all day yesterday. She told me so. Then late at night you busted into her room. An’ you wouldn’t leave till I heard her an’ went in to drive you out. I should have shot you. Forcin’ yourself into the bedroom of a fine little lady at midnight! My Gawd! what are honest pioneer folks goin’ to think of us Westerners if we stand for the likes of that?... I never learned rotten cuss-words enough on the range to fit you. So I won’t try. But you steer clear of me. If I get the littlest chance in the world, I’ll shoot you.”

  Borden hurriedly shouldered his way through the crowd and disappeared. Kalispel stood there at the edge of the sidewalk, running his eyes over the faces turned his way. He espied Blair and his daughter in the entrance of a hallway just opposite his position. The girl’s pale face and wide dark eyes proved that she had seen and heard the encounter with Lowrie and Borden. It had been a bad enough situation without that. Kalispel experienced a sickening reaction. What miserable luck dogged him! What kind of an unfavorable opinion would the girl have of him now? On the moment, when this thought waved hot over him, he glanced back at the hallway. Blair was emerging with his daughter. She was still staring, as if fascinated, at Kalispel, and catching his eye she nodded with a wan little smile. They passed on into the lodging-house. That smile held hope for Kalispel. He stood there on the spot until the crowd dispersed. Then he strode off with the idea forming in mind to hurry his purchases, pack, and leave town before nightfall.

  He found that the additional three burros had been acquired for him, but pack-saddles were in the process of repair and would not be finished until the morrow. The fact that the man from whom Kalispel got the burros offered to let him have a horse and saddle on credit put a different light on the journey back to the gold claim. A sure-footed, staunch horse could travel where packed burros could go. He gratefully accepted the offer. And an hour later he was tightening the saddle-girths on a bay horse that he liked.

  Gradually the wrath which weighed upon Kalispel wore away. He had moments of dejection when he remembered Sydney Blair, but each time he reasoned away his wild romancings and satisfied himself with having rendered a service to the loveliest and sweetest girl he had ever met.

  “Gosh!” he sighed. “If I’d seen her a couple of more times it’d been all day with me.... Maybe so, anyhow.... Well, I owe Borden somethin’. I oughtn’t kill him, just for that.”

  Kalispel watched the cloud-ships sailing in shadows along the mountain-sides; he sat a long time on a log while the sunset curtains fell into the valley; he walked on the river bank, listening to the low mellow roar of deep current over rocks. All was certainly not well with him, for these things stirred a new and pervading melancholy.

  Finally he returned to town, not forgetting to be his vigilant, wary self. His supplies were all packed and ready to be delivered to his order. Upon leaving the store, Kalispel strolled down the long street as far as the Spread Eagle, and up again on the other side. This was a gesture such as might be expected of him, and which he had made before under like conditions; but this time it did not afford him any satisfaction. To Sydney Blair it would have been the act of a braggart. Kalispel was divided between a longing to see her again and a dread that he might.

  He met a number of acquaintances, only one or two of whom evinced any avoidance of him. On the contrary, most of them greeted him cordially. Kalispel felt that he had not done Salmon a bad turn. Lowrie had certainly left town and Borden was conspicuous by his absence.

  Kalispel quietly slipped into the lodging-house and up the stairway. A bright light came from Miss Blair’s open door. He heard her talking to her father. The mere sound of her voice had an unaccountable effect upon him. He went into his room, closing the door softly, and stood a moment in the darkness, conscious of a pang. Then he lighted his lamp.

  As he turned he espied something white on the floor just inside the threshold. He stared. It was an envelope. Picking it up, Kalispel found it open and unaddressed. A faint perfume assailed his nostrils, and recognizing it, he experienced a swift, strong vibration all through him. With clumsy shaking hands he extracted the folded sheet of paper from the envelope and spread it out in the glare of the lamp. The page appeared to be cov
ered with fine, even, graceful handwriting.

  DEAR MR. KALISPEL:

  Father and I saw and heard everything. If it had not been you, it would have been a show for us. But I was terrified. I thought you were going to fight them, and I was divided between sudden hate for that pompous, beady-eyed sheriff and fear for you. Not until I was safely here in my room and could think did I realize that you weren’t in much danger. I also found that I had caught a glimpse of the other gentleman’s discolored face, which somehow afforded me a peculiar satisfaction.

  However, the purpose of this note is to assure you that I did not believe one word the sheriff said, and — please do not leave town without seeing us again. I feel directly responsible for Borden’s having put the sheriff after you. Likewise I am elated that he failed to arrest you. I want to entreat you, despite this newborn savage something in me, to avoid meeting either of those men, for my sake.

  Won’t you have supper with us tonight? You can tell father about gold-mining.

  Sincerely,

  SYDNEY BLAIR.

  Kalispel sagged against the bed and sat down limply. He read the note again. There was no doubting the written words that ran on so firmly and beautifully under his bewildered eyes.

  “She didn’t believe that liar,” he whispered, raptly. “She trusts me.... She wants to see me again.... She likes me.... Aw, I’m plumb loco! She’s just a little lady, too fine and kind to let me go off feelin’ sick with shame an’ disgrace.... An’ by Heaven! that’s too good for me!”

  Kalispel took a few moments to wash his face and brush his hair, and then, blissfully oblivious of his ragged garb, he went out bareheaded to knock at Miss Blair’s door.

  “There he is now,” announced her father. “Come in, Emerson.”

  Kalispel presented himself in the doorway, and bowed. “Good evenin’,” he said. “I’ll be happy to have supper with you.”

  Miss Blair had changed the brown street dress to one of white and she looked so lovely to Kalispel that the blood rushed back to his heart with a shock.

  “Oh, here you are!” she cried gayly, though a vivid blush stained her cheek. “Good evening. I — we feared you had run away — after that sheriff.”

  “No. I reckon I’m not much on runnin’. Fact is I shore forgot Lowrie,” drawled Kalispel, growing cool now and sure of himself, conscious that the havoc had been wrought in him and glorying in it. “I’ve been out lookin’ over my burros an’ tryin’ a new saddlehorse.”

  “Go on down, Sydney. I’ll catch you,” suggested Blair. “Of course horses are an old story to you,” said the girl as she and Kalispel started down the stairs.

  “I reckon. But I’ve never outgrown livin’ that story. Do you ride, Miss Blair?”

  “Yes. But I wouldn’t take any prizes for horsemanship,” she rejoined, with a laugh. “I’d love horses if I had a chance. Perhaps here in the West I may find it.”

  “How’d you like to ride a horse for days an’ days out into those wild hills? Lonely camp fires at night! Meetin’ never a soul, not even an Indian, on the way! Seein’ deer an’ elk an’ bear so tame they stand to watch you ride by! Two hundred miles almost out into these beautiful mountains — an’ then a valley like one in a dream — where you can scoop up gold by the handful!”

  She turned in the yellow flare of the tavern light to look at him.

  “Heavens! Don’t torment me!” she exclaimed, breathlessly. “But you’re not teasing. You’re serious.... Oh, I would be mad with joy!”

  Blair caught up with them before Kalispel could find a reply for Sydney’s astonishing response.

  “Emerson, I gather that the less said to you about today’s little fracas the better,” remarked Blair. “So all I’ll say is that it tickled me. And it might not displease you to learn that at least a dozen men spoke to me about it — to your credit. Lowrie is partial to Morman cattlemen, I hear. And Borden is not liked any too well in Salmon.”

  “Ah-huh.... Well, I reckon it’d be kind of hard to displease me this minute,” replied Kalispel, with a laugh.

  They entered the crowded restaurant, where a miner gave up his table to them. Kalispel saw every man in that place before he followed the Blairs to their seats. Sydney was about to take the seat facing the room, when Kalispel intercepted her with a smile.

  “Excuse me, Lady,” he drawled, coolly. “Reckon you had better let me sit here. Maybe it’s not strict etiquette, but it’s important. You see — there are some poor devils who can’t sit with their backs to a door.”

  “Oh — really?” she returned, blankly, and then suddenly she understood. Her color paled, and when she took the chair he held for her it was with downcast eyes.

  “Blair, I reckon I want to pay for this supper,” said Kalispel. “It’s my turn.”

  “I’ll match you for it,” replied Blair.

  “Gosh! you’re lucky. I’d hate to match you for a bag of gold nuggets.”

  “I hope you get the chance,” declared Blair, gayly. “Sydney has been raving about your talk.”

  “Yeah? — She didn’t strike me as particular enthusiastic.”

  “Kalispel Emerson, that’s not true,” interposed the girl, with a doubtful look at him.

  “Wal, I mean from my side of the fence,” he rejoined, lamely. “Here’s our waitress. Let’s order. An’ for me it’s to be a meal I’ll remember.... But not for what I eat.” Presently, with the orders given, they were free to talk. “Emerson, what have you been putting into my girl’s head?” queried Blair.

  Kalispel leaned his elbow on the table and looked across at Sydney. She met his glance, and a little by-play he had intended to be teasing developed into the thoughtful look of man and girl in whom some magic current had leaped from hidden springs. It decided Kalispel to make a reality of the wild dream he had cherished.

  “Blair,” he began, turning to him, “it’ll cost you about fifty dollars for two horses an’ saddles. An’ about a hundred for supplies, beddin’, tent for Miss Sydney, an’ other stuff, not includin’ trail clothes, guns, an’ such. Say, an outlay of two hundred dollars at the most.”

  “Yes?...You certainly are a sudden fellow. What are you drivin’ at?”

  “Would you risk so much on the chance of a gold claim where you can dig your two-hundred-dollar investment in one day?”

  “Emerson, are you serious?”

  “I reckon. Never more in my life. This is serious, for me.... I said — in one day!”

  Blair turned to his daughter. “Sydney, is our newfound Western friend panning out like the others?”

  “No, Dad. He’s honest,” she replied, in hurried directness.

  Her bright, shining eyes did not need that warm, fascinated regard to complete Kalispel’s undoing.

  “No offense, Emerson,” said Blair. “I was joking, of course. All the same, I’d take you or your word on Sydney’s say-so any day.”

  “Thanks, Blair.... But — Miss Sydney — do you give him your say-so?” rejoined Kalispel, earnestly, and again he met the eloquent eyes.

  “Yes.”

  “You trust — me?”

  “I do trust you.”

  “But I’m a stranger. I’ve admitted I’m a bad hombre. You’ve had evidence of — of my wild range life.”

  “Are you trying to undermine the — the—”

  “No. I only want to be sure. I reckon it’s a pretty wonderful thing for me.”

  “I am out West now,” she countered. But her eyes were intense.

  “Meanin’ you must level yourself to us Westerners. That’s true.... But if you really mean what you said — if you can believe me worth makin’ a friend of — wal, I’ll put something wonderful in the way of you an’ your father.”

  “I do trust you — and I will go with you,” she returned, paling again.

  “That makes this hour the biggest of my life,” declared Kalispel, stern yet radiant. “Now listen,” and he bent over the table to whisper. “Not many days ago my two brothers an’ I struck g
old over here in a valley of the Saw Tooth Mountains. It is rich diggins. There’ll be a million in gold dust panned out of that valley, an’ no tellin’ how much from the quartz lode.... We left Sam there. My brother Jake has gone to Boise to sell a half interest in our quartz mine. We’re askin’ one hundred thousand. I am here to pack in supplies. We planned to keep the strike secret as long as possible. That won’t be very long. Such strikes leak out. There’ll be the wildest gold stampede Idaho ever saw. But we’ll have time to clean up a fortune before the rush.”

  “My word!” ejaculated Blair, incredulously. “Great! You sound like a book! No wonder you upset poor Sydney!”

  “Blair, will you pack in there with me?” asked Kalispel. “Will I? — Say, do you mean accept a chance like this — on an outlay of a few hundred dollars?”

  “I reckon that’s what I mean.”

  “You don’t want to sell me a claim — or get backing?”

  “No. An’ I don’t aim to knock you in the head an’ steal your money, which is precisely what Pritchard an’ his pards would do if they couldn’t get it any other way.”

  “Then why offer strangers such a wonderful opportunity?” asked Blair, gravely.

  “There’s more gold than we can ever dig — an’ the idea appeals to me.”

  “Have you fallen in love with my daughter?”

  “Oh — Dad!” gasped Sydney. A burning blush obliterated the whiteness of her face. “How perfectly terrible of you!” She tried to hide the hot cheeks with her hands. “Kalispel — please don’t — mind his rudeness.”

  Kalispel suffered for her poignant embarrassment, but the feeling was nothing compared to the torment of his own emotions. He had laid a trap for himself. He wanted to base this whole interview and offer upon his honesty, his sincerity.

  “Blair, you call my hand — pretty hard,” he replied, with strong agitation. “I — I reckon I have... but I mean I never knew it till this minute.... That needn’t make any difference to you an’ Miss Sydney.”