by Zane Grey
“Feel here — back of my ear.”
“Ah-ha! — Shore, he creased you thar.... Hot as fire, huh. Thet was made by a bullet, Boss.”
“A miss is as good as a mile.... Sidway, I owe you something.”
“Oh, no! — He — he just missed you. I was too — too slow,” replied Lance, thickly.
“I’ve been shot at before, boy. I saw him jerk and his gun spurt up. He’d have bored me.”
“How aboot moseyin’ along? Thet’s a long tramp fer a man who never trailed rustlers on foot,” said Nels, plaintively.
As they moved up the highway Starr dropped back to Lance’s side. He put a hand on the other’s arm. “Pard, you didn’t tell me you was some punkins with a gun.”
“I’m not.”
“Hey, you might josh me, but not these men. You pulled a fast one, Sid. An’ Gene Stewart seen you. Wait till I get a chanct to tell you some stories about Stewart an’ Nels. Hell, man, they’ve seen the wildest of western days. An’ Nels was a Texas ranger before he ever hit this country. If you know yore West! An’ Gene Stewart, or El Capitan as his handle was them days, was not only a tough cowboy but a real gunman.”
“Ren, I hope this night’s work will end the truck rustling,” said Lance, lamely.
“Wal, it might, if them hombres was ordinary cattle thieves. But who’n hell can figger these hop-haids. Anyway, pard, you’ve cinched yore job, believe you me. An’ I’m gonna ride with you.”
“That’ll be swell. I’m glad. We’ll get along fine, Ren.”
“Gosh! I jest happened to think!” ejaculated Starr, stopping in the middle of the highway to take a pull at Lance. “I’d give a heap to be in yore boots.”
“Why — what’s hurting? Don’t you think, usually?”
“Will you be sittin’ pretty with Majesty Stewart?... Fust stunt — right off — savin’ her dad’s life! Pard, she adores him. My Gawd, the luck of some gazabos!”
“Lord!... Starr, if you’re my pard don’t tell — her — please,” exclaimed Lance, his weakness making him prey to another emotion.
“Wal! — Why, shore, Sidway. I won’t tell her. But how about Gene? An’ thet gabby old Nels — Pard, if I was you I’d shore want her to know.”
“We’ve clashed, Ren. She misunderstood my coming here. Thinks I’m a liar. Laughed at me — when I denied it.... Vainest girl I ever met!”
“Hell! What of thet,” returned Ren, bluntly. “She’s also the loveliest, the sweetest, the finest an’ squarest. Get thet, buddy?”
“Yes, I get you — you dumbbell! I see if I’d speak my mind about this glorious creature, you’d sock me one.”
“Forget it, pard. You’re a little upset. I ain’t wonderin’ at thet. You reckoned Stewart was daid an’ seein’ him come back to life would excite anybody, outside the fight.”
Starr gave Sidway a friendly pat on the back and then let him alone. Presently they reached a culvert over the wash, and turning here, they followed the pale line of sand into the sage. The sand dragged at Sidway’s feet, but the exertion helped restore his equilibrium. The distance back to the car seemed interminable and proved how, on the way down, the excitement had made it short. They found the car at length and were soon bumping over the uneven ground. Starr had no incentive now to drive slowly and noiselessly. He certainly gave his passengers a rough trip back to the ranch.
Lance went to bed at once. For half an hour Nels and Mains, dressing Stewart’s wounds in the adjoining room, kept Lance awake, thinking one moment and going over the adventure the next. When quiet settled down, he soon fell asleep.
Upon awakening, Lance heard Starr and Nels talking while they got breakfast. Presently Starr pounded on the wall between, jarring the house. “Hey, Oregon, air you daid?”
“I’m up,” replied Lance.
“Wal, you’re quieter’n hell if you air. Waltz out. I gotta rustle to town pronto.”
“Ren, send for my baggage.”
“Shore, pard, an’ what else?”
“I’ll see.”
When Lance entered Nels’ bunkhouse to have breakfast he sensed such a great transformation in himself that he felt certain his friends would exclaim about it. But they did not notice any difference in him. During the meal they did not once mention the affair of last night. All in the day, for them, thought Lance! He essayed a cool and quiet demeanor which he meant to make permanent.
“Nels, what’ll I do today?” he asked.
“Dog-gone if I know, son,” drawled the other, scratching his gray head. “They’re all goin’ to town. Go wrangle yore hawse an’ I’ll ask Gene when he comes down.”
Umpqua had made the most of the huge grassy pasture. Lance found him in the extreme far corner, more than a mile from the corrals, and rode him bareback to the corrals. After rubbing him down and saddling and bridling him, Lance led him up the lane to the court. Stewart, his head swathed in white bandages, stood by Madge’s car talking to Starr. As Lance passed the open door of the store he heard Madge’s rich voice, breaking with a singular note, and it gave him a wild impulse to run. Starr hailed him, and then he and Stewart approached.
“Hope you’re okay, Boss,” said Lance, eagerly.
“Mornin’, Sidway. Reckon I feel like a nigger who had to have the buckshot picked out of him. Would you like to go to town with us?”
“Not on my own account, sir. Thanks. There’s a lot I can find to do here.” Lance said this at the same moment he heard Nels’ clinking slow step behind him and a lighter pace that stopped his heart. But he did not turn.
“Starr will come back soon,” went on the rancher. “It might be a good idea for you and him to fix up your quarters. Nels said they had gone to rack.”
“How about the cattle?” asked Lance.
“They have been left free to run the range, and as you saw, have worked low down. Danny and I will be driving a big herd to the railroad soon. Maybe next week. I’ll make that deal in town today. As for immediate jobs, I want you and Ren to repair the water flume and the telephone line pronto.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll get started on them today.”
“Nels, did you make out your list of supplies?”
“Majesty writ it oot fer me.”
“Say, what have you been tellin’ that girl?” demanded Stewart.
“Me? Why, Gene, nothin’ atall,” drawled Nels, innocently.
“You old liar! Look at her!”
Lance wished to do this with an almost irresistible desire. But he sat down on the edge of the porch, dragging Starr with him, aware that the others had stepped into the store.
“Ren, you’ll not forget my baggage?”
“Shore, pard. Anythin’ else? Say how’s yore bunkhouse fixed up? I didn’t look.”
“It’s not fixed up at all,” replied Lance. “No mattress, no chair, no mirror, nothing to wash in or with. No towels. I’ve been using Nels’.”
“Wal, mine cain’t be no wuss...”
“Ren, buy what you need today,” said Madge Stewart, from behind them. She had not gone into the store at all. Manifestly she had heard their talk. “Whatever is this ranch coming to?”
“Aw, you heah, Miss Majesty. Good mawnin’,” replied Starr, with confusion, as he stood up to turn toward her. “About the ranch — wal, I’d say things was lookin’ up.”
“Lance Sidway!”
Arising stiffly, Lance wheeled to doff his sombrero and greet her in apparent composure. But the tone of her voice and then the look of her played havoc with all his resolves. At this juncture Stewart and Nels came out of the store.
“Nels, do you think I dare ride in with Madge?” quizzed Stewart.
“Wal, I’d jump at the chance.”
“You old traitor! Why, you never could be hired to ride in a car. Do you remember Link Stevens driving that big white car of Madeline’s?”
“My Gawd, do I? But I’ll bet Majesty would hev druv rings around Link.”
Madge was looking down upon Lance. The fairness of her face
appeared enhanced by the scarlet upon her lips. In truth Lance saw that she was pale and that her eyes were unnaturally large, glowing, dilating, with a violet fire. Then she seemed to float down the steps and entwine her arm in Lance’s, and lift her lovely face to him, that in the action flushed a hue to match her lips and then went pearly white.
“You saved Dad’s life!”
Lance had prepared himself for he knew not what, though not for this close proximity, the tight pressure of her arm, the quivering feel of her. “Oh, no, Miss Stewart. Somebody has exaggerated.”
“Nels told me,” said Madge, intensely.
“I might have known,” went on Lance, trying to be cool and nonchalant. “Nels is swell, but you know he.... Starr told me what an old liar he is.”
“Heah!” yelped Starr. “Don’t you get me in bad. I never said thet...”
“Miss Stewart, please...” interposed Lance. “You mustn’t give me undue credit. I was there — and I’m glad — I made myself useful. I didn’t want to kill the man...”
“You killed him?” she cried, aghast. “Oh, Nels didn’t tell me that.”
Lance spread wide his hands to the watching men, as if to say “Now see what you’ve done.” But it was not the revelation that distracted him.
“So you’re bound to be our good angel!” she exclaimed, softly, and shook him gently.
“Really I — you... it was — it’s not so much.”
“Nothing! And you killed a robber who’d have murdered my father? I wonder what you’d consider very much.... Come away from these grinning apes, so I can thank you.”
She led him out to her car and still clung to his arm. “It’s impossible to thank you,” she went on, her voice breaking. “I can’t even try. But I’m unutterably grateful. I’ll do anything for you.”
“Thank you, Miss Stewart....”
“My friends call me Majesty,” she interrupted, sweetly.
“I — I appreciate your excitement and feeling. It’s kind of a tough spot for you. I hoped they wouldn’t tell you. But they did... and I won’t let you make too much of it.”
“Too much! Aren’t you glad?” she rejoined, incredulously.
“Glad? That I was there — with him? Good heavens! Of course, I am. Greatest kick I ever had!”
“Nels told me you were a bad hombre to meet in a fight. That you reminded him of an old pard, Nick Steele. But that you were different from the old-time bragging gunmen... modern, modest — a new kind to him, but dangerous, and just what my father needed — just what I needed...”
“Nels is a sentimental old jackass,” burst out Lance. If she would only let go of his arm, move her soft warm shoulder away from his!
“It bothers you,” she asserted, quickly. “We’ll skip it.... Come into town with us.”
“Is that an order?”
“Oh, no. Just a request.”
“Thanks, but I’ve plenty of work to do here.”
“I’ll say plenty.... Lance, I hated you yesterday.”
“Are you telling me? But really I’m sorry I was so rude.”
“I forgive you. Let’s be good friends now. You’re here, I’m here — and my friends are coming. You’ll like the girls. They’re peaches. Full of fun — and great sports. It will embarrass me if we are at odds.”
“How could that be? I’m only your father’s cowboy.”
“Don’t forget that I saw you first,” she taunted. “You’re my cowboy. They’ll all make a play for you, especially that red-headed Bu Allen. She’s a devil on the make. They’ll hear of your — about you — make you a hero. I want you to be good friends with me.”
“I will be, of course. A friend like Ren Starr,” qualified Lance.
“But I mean more than that. Ren is swell. Only he’s a hired hand.”
“So am I. I won’t forget my place.”
“Aren’t you being just a little snooty?” she inquired, subtly changing, and she released his arm.
“Aren’t you kidding me?”
“No,” she flashed, loftily.
“Then isn’t that your line?”
“I haven’t any line, Mr. Sidway.”
Lance felt utterly helpless in two conflicting ways — that he simply could not help rubbing the girl the wrong way, any more than he could resist her lovely person and insidious charm. He wanted her to hurry away so that he could think. In another moment she would see that his heart if not his will was prostrate at her feet.
“I’m afraid you had better fire me right here and now,” he said, glumly.
“Perhaps I had,” she returned, her purple eyes glowing upon him, as if visioning afar. “But Dad needs you. And he wouldn’t let you go.”
“I’d go anyhow. Just you fire me.”
“No. I’ll not do it.... Listen, big boy, you gave me some dirty digs. And I’ve been catty. It’s fifty-fifty. Here’s my hand for a new deal.”
“Miss Stewart — as Ren says — you’re one grand girl,” rejoined Lance, unsteadily. “It’s unconceivable that I could withhold my hand, if you offered yours. But I can’t forget so easily as you evidently do.”
“I see. You can’t take it?”
“Do you still believe I found out who you were — where you lived — and came out here to — to...” he queried, hotly, and ended, unable to finish.
“Why, certainly I do.”
“When I swear on my word of honor that I didn’t?” went on Lance, passionately.
“Yes,” she retorted, almost with like heat. “And I’d think more of you if you’d not lie about it. This word of honor stuff!... I thought it was a swell stunt. I was tickled pink. I’ll still think it grand of you if you’ll only stop bluffing. What more could you want?”
“I must seem ridiculous to you. But I’m neither a callow college youth nor a thickheaded gangster. I’d expect a girl to believe me. Else I couldn’t be her friend. You’re just kidding me. You’d play with me in front of your college crowd — and let me down afterwards. Why, you even have nerve enough to try to get my horse!”
“Yes I have, Lance Sidway,” she blazed at him. “I’ve nerve enough to get him, too, at any cost — unless you show yellow and ride away!”
Lance bowed and turned away toward the bunkhouses, forgetting the others and afraid to go to Umpqua. He heard her call to her father, and presently the sound of the cars wheeling away. In that moment of passion he divined if he approached Umpqua it would be to ride away from that ranch. And he flung himself upon his bunk to shut out the sunlight. Neither pride in himself nor loyalty to Stewart accounted for that victory over himself. The paralyzing and staggering truth was that he did not ride away because he could not bear to leave this beautiful and tormenting girl.
CHAPTER VII
EARLY AND LATE Sidway was out on the road job, overseeing the Mexican laborers, while Starr and Mains, with the vaqueros, repaired the telephone, and then drove upwards of six hundred head of cattle to the railroad.
No sooner was the road fit for heavy traffic when it appeared all the trucks in Bolton came along loaded to capacity with the crated furniture and bales and boxes that Madge Stewart had sent from Los Angeles. There were four small trucks and two large ones. The contents, Lance calculated, must have cost the girl thousands of dollars; and the sight of them aroused an unreasonable resentment in him. What business was it of his? Yet he could not help thinking of her all the day and half the night. That fact lay at the root of his intense dissatisfaction rather than her extravagance at such a hard period for her parents. Lance was determined that Madge must not know this. He was always fighting against an acceptance of her faults.
On Saturday afternoon of that busy week Lance was glad to see Starr drive up with Stewart and Mains in his car, and an empty truck behind.
The road job was finished, very much to Stewart’s satisfaction, and he paid off the Mexicans, and sent them back to town.
“Well, I reckon we’re ready for Madge’s outfit,” said Stewart, eyeing his cowboys.
&nbs
p; “Who is, Boss?” queried Lance.
“Not me, neither,” added Starr, making a wry face. “All summer long! Gene, they’ll drive us nuts.... An’ shore one of them swell college sprats will cop my girl.”
“Oh, Bonita, you mean,” returned Lance, laconically, as he rested against the car. “Ren, I haven’t noticed — so much — that she is your property.”
“Sid, you double-crossin’ son-of-a-gun! I might have knowed it.”
“Swell kid!”
“Look heah, Sidway, hev you been after my daughter, too?” demanded Danny Mains.
“I’ve seen a good deal of her while you were away. I knew you didn’t approve of Ren.”
“Danny,” interposed Stewart, “cowboys are the same now as we were. Only a good deal better. I think Bonita is better off for friends like Starr and Sidway.”
“Wal, I reckon,” agreed Danny, dubiously. “On’y I’m afraid they might do some mischief to Bonita’s several vaquero beaus.”
“Mischief! Say, Danny, you ain’t got me figgered,” replied Ren, doggedly. “I love Bonita an’ hev asked her to marry me.”
“Ren — So that was it?” ejaculated Lance.
“So that was what?” queried Starr, suspiciously.
“I don’t want to embarrass you here, pard.”
“Ren, you’ll excuse my cantankerousness,” said Mains, simply. “I didn’t hev you figgered.”
“Starr, this here Oregon ladies’ man is not only stepping on your preserves, but he’s kidding you,” rejoined Stewart, with a laugh. “Hook her up and let’s go. Sidway, it’s a good job well done.... Oh, yes, I’ve a message for you by phone. Madge wants you up at the house to open boxes.”
“Boss! I’m a tired man,” expostulated Lance. “And Umpqua needs to be worked over. Up and down this dusty road for a week!”
“Haw! Haw! Haw!” laughed Starr, fiendishly.
“All right. I’ll tell Madge not tonight.”
Starr grinned knowingly at Lance and drove off. From where they had caught up with him it was only a short ride to the ranch. Yet it seemed a long and thoughtful one for Lance. It began to look as if Madge Stewart either meant to try him with odd stable-boy jobs or else she wanted him to be unable to avoid her, as he had tried so hard to do. The former made him furious and the latter made him weak.