by Zane Grey
“How do you know?” queried Kalispel, voicing the old, dark, insatiable curiosity of his kind.
“Wal, it stands to reason. An’ besides, I seen you draw on Selby.”
“Masters, you can bet I’m not askin’ to put it to a test. An’ here’s my hand on that.”
“An’ heah’s mine, youngster,” drawled the Texan, with satisfaction.
“All right. I’m lucky for once. Now give me another reason for not wantin’ to lay me out cold.”
“I don’t like Leavitt.”
Kalispel made one of his swift passionate gestures. “Ha!... Go on. You’re the most interestin’ sheriff I ever met.”
“Wal, another is I don’t like Borden.”
“Ah-huh. I reckon one more will about do me.”
“I don’t like the rumor thet’s spreadin’ heah.”
“What rumor?” flashed Kalispel.
‘Thet you’re one of these bandits who are holdin’ up the miners.”
Kalispel leaped up with a curse. “ —— — , Masters! This is the last straw. An’ what’n hell did you tell me for — if you want me to be a law-abidin’ citizen?”
“Set down again, youngster. You shore air hot-haided,” replied the Texan, in his slow, quiet way. “Listen. I made up my mind since I been heah with you thet you have been lied aboot. I had a hunch before I came, but wasn’t sure.... Give me the straight of this camp gossip aboot the Emerson claim to Leavitt’s property. On your honor, youngster. This is shore a critical time in yore life. You’re young. You’re no fool. You don’t drink an’ gamble — which shore surprised me. Now come clean an’ straight.”
Whereupon Kalispel, stirred to his depths, related in detail and holding to absolute facts, the discovery of the valley, of the placer gold, of the quartz vein, and the events following, up to Jake’s return and the trial.
The Texan nodded ponderingly, pulling at his long drooping mustache.
“Youngster, I believe you,” he returned, at length. “Leavitt has jumped your claim. But it’s just as possible thet yore brother Sam was gone as it is thet he was heah. You’ve got to admit thet. An’ like as not you’ll never know. But you can never tell.”
“That alone has kept me from drawin’ on Leavitt.”
“Wal, it’s aboot all cleared up in my mind. Thet’s the status of one Kalispel Emerson.... How’d you come to fetch Blair an’ his daughter in heah? I heahed talk aboot thet, too — not to yore credit.”
“I happened to meet them in Salmon. Pritchard an’ his outfit had got on the scent. An’ Borden got after the girl. He busted into her room an’ I threw him out. Wal, I got acquainted with the Blairs. They jumped at the idea of goin’ with me to my gold prospect. So I fetched them — an’ fell good an’ deep in love with Sydney — the girl — on the way in. On gettin’ here I was so wild to find a stampede on, an’ Leavitt holdin’ our claim, that I busted loose. Shot Selback an’ got drunk. When I came to, Leavitt had played up to the Blairs an’ ruined my chance of winnin’ back Sydney’s confidence.”
“So thet’s the story?... Did the girl care for you?”
“Yes, she did. I reckon she might have loved me in time,” replied Kalispel, sadly. “But things have gone from bad to worse. Leavitt has it all his way now. She might be damn fool enough to marry him — unless I”
“You’ve shore split on Leavitt,” interposed Masters. “Stands to yore credit thet you haven’t bored him.”
“I’ve shore wanted to.”
“Wait, youngster.... Heah’s an idee. Suppose we work some slick deal on the town. For a spell you an’ me will become open enemies, apparently, always lookin’ to meet an’ shoot it oot. Only we won’t. I’ll furnish you some bags of gold dust. An’ you start roarin’ around camp, pretendin’ to be drunk, thet you struck a big claim. Anythin’ to show the gold an’ brag. Then bandits will trail you up, if they think you’re drunk enough. But you hold them up. An’ thet way we might round up these robbers.”
“Ha! We might round up more’n you gamble on. Masters, I’m your man.”
“Good! I’ll slip up heah after dark tonight.... Suppose you point out the Blair cabin. I’ll drop in on them.”
Kalispel did so, and experienced again that blade in his heart, for Sydney was on the porch.
“There’s Sydney now. She’ll see you’ve been here.”
“Wal, I’ll tell her I was makin’ a missionary call on you, but all in vain. Thet you cussed me oot, swore you’d draw on me at sight, thet you are a discouraged boy goin’ to hell.”
“Aw!” groaned Kalispel, flinching.
“Youngster, the way I’ll say it ought to wring tears from thet girl.”
“All right. If you can wring her heart, I’ll die for you.... An’ say, Masters, while you’re callin’ on people don’t pass up Dick Sloan an’ Nugget. You’ll love them, by gosh! Inquire down by the bridge, on the other side.”
Next day Kalispel took Jake with him to the big high basin over the south slope and packed down the meat of two elk. A herd of several hundred had come into the basin, which evidently was their winter abode.
“Jake, I got a great idee,” announced Kalispel.
“Idees are great when they are great,” replied Jake, noncommittal.
“Soon as it gets cold enough to freeze meat hard we’ll come up here an’ slaughter a hundred of these elk, drag them over to the rim above the valley, an’ hang them up in that heavy growth of firs. Meat-market for the winter.”
Jake did not express any rapture over this very creditable plan; however, when Kalispel confided the ruse Masters had suggested as a clever means to identify the bandits and possibly to learn something more, then Jake showed how sparks could be struck from flint.
That afternoon Kalispel strolled down to Sloan’s tent. Before he mounted the steps of the spacious, canvas-topped dwelling he heard Dick’s deep, pleasant voice and Nugget’s silvery laughter. Both rang sweetly in Kalispel’s ears.
“Hey,” he called, “I’m invitin’ myself to supper.”
“Come in, you life-savin’ hombre,” called Dick, gladly.
“Oh, it’s Kal,” cried a high treble voice, in wild welcome. And Kalispel found himself being leaped upon and kissed by what appeared to be a lovely, little, rosy-faced, golden-haired boy in blue jeans. “Where have you been for so long?”
“Folks, I’ve been plottin’ murder,” replied Kalispel, with a voice and smile that made him a prevaricator.
“We been hearin’ things. I was goin’ to hunt you up tonight. But thet d — new sheriff dropped in yesterday afternoon. He was darned nice to me an’ Ruth, but he shook his buzzard head doubtful about you.”
“Kal, we hated him for that,” added Nugget, who was clinging to his vest and gazing up with troubled, appealing eyes. “Have they put him against you?”
“Say — dog-gone! You look just like peaches an’ cream,” rejoined Kalispel, suddenly realizing the girl’s wonderful improvement. Her face had lost its pallor; the hollow cheeks had filled out; the red lips that had been bitter were now sweet; the blue eyes no more the windows of havoc. She was happy. It seemed incredible. But Kalispel accepted what his keen scrutiny revealed.
“Nugget, you always was pretty, but, gosh! — Why, now you’re lovely!”
“Not Nugget any more, not even to you. Ruth.”
“All right, then it’s Ruth. Dog-gone! If I’d had a hunch you was goin’ to turn out happy an’ beautiful like this, I’d shore grabbed you for myself.”
“Kal!” cried the girl, startled.
“I shore love you heaps, Ruth.”
“Hey, stop makin’ up to my girl,” ordered Sloan, gayly. “She likes you too dam much already. An’ we’re not married yet.”
“I shall always — love him, Dick,” she said, earnestly.
“Wal, don’t be scared my heart will break again,” rejoined Kalispel, with pathos.
“Kalispel, how is it with you and Sydney?” she asked, presently, watching him with a woman’s
eyes.
“It’s not atall.”
“I’m going to call on that girl some day,” declared Ruth, with a spirit that boded trouble for Miss Blair.
“I see her with Leavitt,” interposed Dick, gravely. “Doesn’t strike me right.”
“It’s rotten, if you ask me,” burst out Ruth. “Won’t somebody tell her the truth about Rand Leavitt?”
“That’s up to one of us. Nobody but you an’ me an’ Kal know. An’ tellin’ her what Leavitt really is — if she believes — will be damn serious for us. He an’ Borden have gotten thick.”
“Don’t you kids worry any more. Sydney Blair will find out some day, probably too late,” returned Kalispel, darkly.
“Kal, Cliff Borden has been here to see me twice, while Dick was out on his claim,” said Ruth.
“Ah-huh. Wal, what of it?”
“First time he tried being persuasive. He wanted me back. Made me extravagant offers. Seemed to be struck with the change in me. Tried to make love to me — He laughed when I told him Dick and I were not living together. And he got sore when I told him I intended to marry Dick. He stamped out, saying he’d see me soon. Day before yesterday he came again. He was different. He threatened me. I called him every bad name I ever heard and drove him out. But I am worried, Kalispel.”
“What’ll we do?” queried Sloan, anxiously. “If my claim wasn’t pannin’ out so rich I’d take Ruth an’ rustle away. But that’d be throwin’ away money enough to start us for life.”
“I reckon you better leave it to me,” replied Kalispel. “Then I won’t worry,” declared Ruth. “This Thunder City is not the bloodiest camp I ever saw, by far. But it’s low-down and mean. I can’t cope with these men. Neither can Dick. But you can, Kalispel. And I, who haven’t prayed since I was little, am thanking God for you. That’s all. You talk with Dick while I get supper.”
Kalispel went outside with Sloan, where they walked up and down.
“Ruth saw through Masters,” said Sloan. “He’s not as unfriendly toward you as he wants it to look.”
“Dick, that Texan is a man to tie to. I should smile he is not unfriendly. But you an’ Nug — Ruth keep this to yourselves. Masters wants me to make a bluff at bein’ drunk, an’ go round flushed with gold — which he staked me to — an’ get some of these bandits to hold me up.”
“You don’t say!” exclaimed Sloan, amazed and concerned. “Will you risk it?”
“Shore looks good to me.”
“I’ll bet none of these two-bit robbers will hold you up in a hurry. Whoever they are, they are miners, workin’ claims or prospectin’, an’ they know you.”
“Wal, it won’t hurt to try.”
“It’ll hurt you with Sydney Blair.”
“I couldn’t be hurt no worse with her.”
“Ruth seems to think you’ve got a chance there. Don’t ruin it by becomin’ a rowdy.”
“Sort of tickles me. She’s goin’ to be the fooledest girl some day.”
“Kal, you can’t let her marry that cheat of a Leavitt,” declared Sloan, hotly. “Even if you didn’t love her! Ruth told me. An’ if I was a shootin’-man, believe me, I’d go after Leavitt.”
“Take care you don’t shoot off your chin,” advised Kalispel. “Ruth knows too much an’ talks too much. She’s got nerve. But Borden an’ Leavitt have a strangle hold on this camp. They can ruin you. An’ if I kill them before I can show them up, two-thirds of the diggin’s will rise up to hang me. An’ I’ll lose my chance to find out if Leavitt really made ‘way with Sam.”
“You bet he did,” cracked out Dick. “Ruth told me. She swears it.”
“Hell you say!”
“Yes, the hell I say. She knows, but she can’t prove it.”
“How could she know an’ not be able to prove it?”
“She says it’s a little of what she heard an’ a lot that she felt.”
“Wal, that wouldn’t go far in a court, unless what she heard was important.”
“We take her word. I’ll bet Masters would, too. But nobody else would take stock in what a dance-hall girl swore to. That’s the weakness of the case.”
Kalispel admitted it. Leavitt had Boise mining-men interested in the quartz lode. To get possession of the property by force seemed impossible; and any other way began to loom as a forlorn hope. Kalispel divined that the day was not far distant when he would abandon that hope. In this event all he wanted was a short pregnant meeting with Rand Leavitt.
That night Kalispel went on his pretended spree. He staggered into every saloon on the street, smelling of rum, inviting all idlers to drink with him, yet contriving not to drink himself. Everywhere he displayed a big bag of gold nuggets. The invitations to gamble were as numerous as the gamblers.
“Ump-umm. No time — gamble,” he would reply. “Wanta drink — an’ shoot thish town up. I’m bad hombre — I am — an’ lookin’ fer trouble. Gonna shoot daylights outa dansh-shall fellar — an” lousy claim-jumper.”
He created a sensation everywhere. Word flew from lip to lip. “Kalispel Emerson on the rampage!” The roar subsided when he entered, pale-faced, maudlin, staggering, with a bag of gold in his left hand; the chairs scraped or fell over or the players left them; the crowded bars turned a sea of faces; the throng split to let him through; and mixed, together again to follow him out into the street. He broke up the dance at Borden’s hall and shot out the lights. Lastly he weaved from side to side up the center of the street, singing a range drinking-song, and thus on outside of town. But that night the ruse did not work, and he arrived at his cabin tired out and disgusted.
Next morning he saw the sunrise from the rim of the south slope.
Kalispel’s bad moods might start out with him, or like giants stalk behind him on the trail, but they never lasted. When, on this day, he gained real solitude, his morbid thoughts began, one by one, to drop away like scales. The labor of climbing high, the smell of pine and fir, the intimacy of the old gray cliffs, the melancholy twittering of birds on their way south, and the low song of insects bewailing the death of summer, the color and wildness of the ledges, the freedom of the heights, the wild life that ranged before his gaze — these and all the phases of nature, increasingly more satisfying as the days multiplied, began to soften defeat and heartbreak, and the evil of the sordid greedy camp below.
The valley was now a hideous blot in the wilderness, a checkered hive of toiling bees, an evidence of how white men despoiled nature in their madness for gold.
From Kalispel’s lookout he could see the whole of the mountain that loomed over the mining camp. In bulk it dwarfed the area of the valley. He never gazed at this mile-long slant of denuded, soft earth that he did not feel its forbidding aspect. It hung there precariously. The faint rumble that resembled thunder and which sounded at infrequent times, the gloomy face of the great slide, its ghastly, naked, mobile nature — these to a mountaineer were fraught with catastrophe.
But in other directions the views were superb, a sea of choppy jagged waves of rock, peaked and curled and frosted, suggesting the purple depths of canyons between, and the brawling streams deep down.
Kalispel led his pack burros back to the edge of the basin, where he hunted, and tying them to saplings, he began his stalk.
Chapter Ten
Late that night in the fitful glare of Kalispel’s camp fire, Blair appeared like a man who was afraid of his shadow.
“Say, Blair, it’s right dangerous to come sneakin’ up on me,” warned Kalispel. “I can’t tell for shore who my friends are in the dark. An’ Lord knows my enemies multiply.”
“Never thought — of that. Excuse me — Kal,” panted Blair, finding a seat. He was sober, but apparently laboring under great stress. “Leavitt and Sydney — have been haranguing me. Made my life — hell — lately. I didn’t want them to see me — coming here — so waited till dark.”
“It’s long after dark, old scout,” replied Kalispel, scrutinizing the other’s haggard face. “I got in lat
e. Had a heavy pack of meat.... What’s on your chest?”
“I’m a ruined man.”
“Wal, that’s nothin’. I’ve been ruined a lot of times.”
“You’re young and you don’t care a damn for anything or anybody.”
“Shore. But you can do like me. Get up an’ go on!”
“I can’t. This gold-digging was all right for me when I had some results and didn’t work too hard. But that’s finished. The gambling is worse. I’m a fool. I had twenty thousand dollars when we got here. All gone!”
“Whew! — Twenty thousand? My Gawd! man, you have drank an’ gambled all that away?”
“No, not by any means. I bought two claims, you know. Then I had ten thousand hidden in the cabin.... The rest went for our living, and my—”
“Wal, that’s different,” interrupted Kalispel. “You’re not ruined if you’ve got ten thousand.”
“I haven’t got it. Stolen out of the cabin! It was in a big leather wallet, hidden in a chink between two logs, high up where I thought nobody could locate it. But somebody did. Sydney left the cabin open. She went downtown with Leavitt. That was the night you got drunk and went raving around town.”
“Yeah, I did sort of slop over,” drawled Kalispel. “If Sydney went downtown I reckon she saw me.”
“Did she? — Well, I guess she did. She quarreled with Leavitt. And later with me she was in a passion. It struck me she was madder about your break than she was at the loss of our money.”
“Humph!” ejaculated Kalispel, in a quandary. “I reckon you’re barkin’ up the wrong tree, Blair.”
“I always have done that,” returned the older man, plaintively. “But I still have ears. I can hear. And I heard Sydney lacing it into Leavitt about you. Evidently he had been blackguarding you, and she, like a woman, roasted him for it when it was true. Later she did the same to me. I haven’t any tact. I’m testy, anyway, these days. And when I said: ‘If you cared so much about Kal, why in hell did you let him go to the dogs?’ I thought she was going to tear my hair out.”
“Wal, I’m a son-of-a-gun!” exclaimed Kalispel, utterly floored.