by Zane Grey
“Wal, how aboot it?” queried Britt, into the first lull.
“How aboot what, boss?” drawled Brazos.
“I want a report, don’t I?”
“Dawg-gone if I ever know what you want,” complained Brazos, plaintively. “Anyway, Frayne was haid of this drive.”
“You got back Doane’s hawses.”
“Shore. We didn’t know whose they were till I seen thet blue roan with a ripple on his flank. I’d seen Miss Holly on him, an’ I recollected thet she gave him to Ann Doane.... So things kinda connected up in my dumb haid.”
“Ah-huh, I reckon. Wal, tell me aboot what happened?”
“Boss, I ain’t feelin’ like talkin’,” replied Brazos, in cool evasion.
“Laigs, do you want to tell me?” went on Britt, dryly.
“Boss, I’m a cowman what’s shy of words. Besides, I’m tired an’ hurt an’ I couldn’t talk fer a million.”
“Million what?” asked Britt, convinced that he could make Laigs retract this extra vagan t-speech.
“Pesos,” said Laigs, shortly.
Then Britt called loudly: “Jackson!”
“Yas, suh. Heah I is.”
“Come over heah.”
The little bow-legged negro approached Britt with some uncertainty and trepidation, but his eyes rolled till the whites showed, to match with his teeth.
“Air you dumb, too, Jack?”
“I reckon — yas, suh, I’se as dumb as Laigs.”
“Wal, heah’s ten pesos.”
“Boss! Fer me?” asked Jackson, with a huge grin.
“Yes, if you’ll take thet back aboot bein’ dumb.”
“Sho, suh. I’se not dumb atall.... Yo see, Boss, I wuz jes sidin’ wif Laigs—”
“Hyar!” yelled Laigs, suddenly coming out of his stupefaction. “You darn, hoss-chewin’ nigger! Lay off’n me....
Boss, I’ll take it back. I’ll tell you anythin’ fer ten—”
“Shet up, Laigs,” interrupted Britt. “All of you keep shet up while I get this report from Jackson. Things hev come to a sad pass in an ootfit when the boss has to pay fer a report.... Come on, Jack.”
“What yu want, suh?”
“Tell me all aboot how you come to get Doane’s hawses back.”
“Wal, suh, it wuz dis way,” began Jackson eagerly. “Jes befo noon yestiddy mawnin’ we wuz ridin’ along wben Cherry oot ahaid seen dust, an’ he held us up. When we all seen it we got to bettin’ on what made it. Boss, on dis drive we sho seen things before dey seen us. Cherry bet der wuz a string of hosses comin’. Wal, Cherry won de bet an’ Mars Frayne held us dere to wait. It wasn’t long den till we seen fo hossmen behind dat string. Wal, den Mars Frayne had us hide round a brushy bend in de road till them riders done come up. Befo all de bosses got by Brazos seen dat blue roan wif our brand, an’ den we all knowed sho dey’d been some hoss-stealin’. But, suh, when Frayne rode oot in front of us dem fo men was sho susprised. Dey didn’t ‘pear sociable an’ de leader yelled an’ was pullin’ his gun when Frayne laid him offen his hoss. De odder riders bolted, shootin’ back, an’ we rustled after ’em sho burnin’ powder.... Wal, suh, it wuz soon ober. Laigs an’ Tex wuz hit. Dem fo hoss-thieves wuz pore white trash, boss. Dey didn’t hev nuthin’ much. We trowed dere guns an’ saddles in the wagon, den round up de stole hosses, an’ rustled along.... Dat’s all, suh.”
“Ten cart-wheels fer thet story,” stormed Laigs Mason. “I coulda told it better fer two-bits.”
At this junction Britt heard a horse outside, and soon found Frayne there, unsaddling. The outlaw had a preoccupied manner. He left saddle and bridle on the ground, and when he turned Britt met a frowning face and bewildered eyes from which the piercing quality had gone into eclipse.
“Wal, Renn?” queried Britt, with a smile.
“Don’t grin at me — you Texas chessy-cat,” groaned Frayne, with suspended breath.
“What’s wrong?” —
“Wrong! The whole world is upside down.... I’m locoed, Britt — buffaloed — beat! — Nothing left for me but to go out and get myself shot!”
“Renn, have you been drinkin’?”
“Not yet. But I sure will be, pronto.”
“Nonsense. Tell me what happened. — Why, man, I was shore Holly would be glad to see you. I’m darn sorry. But I’m only an old fool.”
“She was glad — to see me,” whispered Frayne, huskily, and he look dazed.
“Aw! — Wal, what could be wrong, then?” went on Britt, smoothly, and drew the unresisting Frayne along to the end of the porch. He felt mightily guilty, yet somehow elated.
“What? — Man alive, it’s all wrong.”
“Renn, I cain’t savvy. Better tell me. What did Holly say?” returned Britt, powerfully.
“She stood in the door — as I rode up,” replied Frayne, as if impelled. “But when I got off with the bags she was gone. I went in.... There she stood — white — as white.... I said, ‘Miss Holly. Here I am with the money — more than we figured.’... I laid the bag on the table. She waved it aside — as if that money — which damn near drove me crazy — was nothing. Nothing at all! That, and the way she looked — upset me.... She took told of my coat. ‘Renn! You’re back — safe?’ she whispered. I don’t know what I said, but I assured her I was all right — that all was well. She shut her eyes. I saw tears slide out from under her tight eyelids.... She leaned against me and shook. Then she opened her eyes. The tears were all gone. They shone like black stars — deep in a well — Beautiful!
— They will haunt me sleepless — the rest of my life.... Then, Cap — she — she kissed me.... Not on my cheek! But on my lips — my sun-burnt, alkali-split, tobacco-stained lips!”
“Yeah? An’ then what did you do?” queried Britt, feelingly, as Frayne leaned against the cabin wall. This was the moment. The cool hard outlaw did not manifest himself in this moment. He was betraying his true self. A dark terrible pain changed the grey of his eyes.
“Do? — I broke — and ran,” he whispered,-hoarsely, swallowing hard.
“Ran? — You, Renn Frayne? Wal, wal!”
“Britt, you are a soulless cuss.”
“Holly loves you,” returned Britt, quietly, sure of Holly, sure of himself, and in this stern broken mood of Frayne’s, sure of him.
“My God! — Don’t say that!”
“It’s true, Renn. I found it out since you left. This is the end of Holly’s many flings at the cowboys. This time — poor kid — she’s got a dose of ber own medicine. Holly is caught.... Renn, for heaven’s sake—”
“Britt, you needn’t say more,” interrupted Frayne, coming away from the wall, grey-faced and spent. “Do you think I’m one of these rocks — or a piece of dead wood.... I worship Holly Ripple! — That’s been true ever since the day she asked me to stay at Don Carlos’ Rancho.... And it was all right — till now.... Till now! — My God, who could have foreseen that sweet, beautiful, innocent girl would fall in love with me? Me! — Britt, I’ve got to go out and get myself shot.”
“Ah-huh! “ejaculated Britt, in slow scorn. “Thet’d be a fine way to treat Holly.... Fer her kindness an’ generosity — her faith an’ love — you’d reward her by leavin’ her heart-broken — by leavin’ us heah wuss off than ever. You cain’t do thet, Renn Frayne.”
“Yes, it’s yellow of me,” flashed Frayne, passionately. “But what else is there for me? — Cap, she might — she might—”
“Like as not, Renn, Holly not only might. She will! An’ then what, man?”
“I’d fall — on my knees.”
“Quite appropriate, if you ask me.... Frayne, you’re worn oot an’ overwrought. Let’s go in.”
“Wait.... Cap, I’ll take that back — about getting myself shot. Lord knows, I may get it any day.... I’ll stay on and see you through this rustler war. But I must not go near Holly. And you must swear you’ll never betray me.”
“Shore, I swear thet, Renn,” replied Britt, once more dry and drawling of
speech. A happiness tugged at his heartstrings. A moment back panic had assailed him. Britt liked and respected Frayne all the more for his weakness, for his despair, for what must have been honour. The future did not look so dark as formerly for Holly Ripple.
CHAPTER X
ONE AND ALL the returning cowboys sought their bunks, after Jose had satisfied the inner man, and in Brazos’ case left a dire threat as to what would result if anybody disturbed his repose. Skylark showed remarkable eagerness to undertake the twenty mile ride to Doane’s, to acquaint that individual of the recovery of his horses. This deceived no one, although Laigs made the only audible comment: “My gosh, I’d like to get it so I’d know how it feels!”
Britt, in fear and trembling, yet happy within, went up to the ranch-house to see Holly. He found her another perfect example of the incomprehensibleness of women. She was the old Holly. It relieved Britt as well as puzzled him. Frayne had been most revivifying medicine. To be sure Holly would never imagine that Frayne had told Britt about the kiss which had been his undoing. And Britt concluded this would be a very inopportune time to break his perfectly unscrupulous promise to Frayne. Somehow, marvellously, Holly had extracted the old fire and joy and mystery, with something sweetly baffling, from those few moments alone with Frayne. Therefore all seemed well.
“Did you hide the money?” asked Britt, recalling Holly’s carelessness about this detail. They shared a secret hiding-place, where her father and the Valverdes before him had stored gold and valuables.
“Yes. I counted it. Such a job! You know we told Frayne to fetch small bills.”
“How much?”
“Nearly one hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars.”
“Wal, it’ll hev to last a while, my dear. I can’t risk any more drives.”
“But you intended to,” she protested.
“Shore. Since the ootfit got back I’ve changed my mind.”
“Why?”
“Wal, information. Brazos doesn’t like the idee, an’ Frayne won’t heah of it.”
“He won’t? — I wonder why?”
“Struck me Renn’s kinda queer. I reckon it’s thet he just cain’t leave you again,” rejoined Britt, casually, and he pretended to be blind to Holly’s rich red blush. This romance was proceeding to his satisfaction, but he had a warning then not to overdo his part. He would let nature take its course for a while.
“Holly, you remember thet blue roan you gave Ann Doane?” inquired Britt.
“Frisk? Indeed, I do. I loved that pony. But Ann was so taken with him. Why do you ask?”
“Wal, Frisk was stolen by hawse-thieves along with Doane’s other hawses. Lo an’ behold, our ootfit fetched them back!”
“To-day?” exclaimed Holly.
“Shore. When else could they? It was plumb lucky. I didn’t get much oot of Brazos an’ nothin’ oot of Frayne, so I reckon there wasn’t much to it.”
“Cap Britt! Don’t you try any of your old tricks. You know — if these devils of mine captured any horse-thieves they’d hang them.”
“I reckon. They’re shore het-up aboot things these days. But I know fer a fact thet they didn’t capture this bunch of hawse-thieves.”
“Good. I’m glad. I pity these poor outcasts who have to steal.”
“Wal, lass, I’m not so full of pity as you,” drawled Britt. “An’ if you didn’t have the most dangerous ootfit on this frontier you’d soon lose yore pity.”
“Oh, for the days when I was little! The long, lazy, glamorous days of caravans, of the endless fiestas, the fandangos, the sombreros and chaparagos!”
“They will never return, lass. But you will always have Mexicans. I rather look ahead, say five years, though thet’s awful soon, when we’ll have peace on the range — an’ the prattle an’ patter of children in this great house.”
“Oh, yes — how romantic,” remarked Holly, without flicking an eyelash. “Perhaps Brazos and Skylark — possibly Frayne — will supply you with some of that joy of life soon.... By the way, Cappy, are all the men in?”
“No.”
“Who’s out?”
“Talman, Trinidad an’ Rebel.”
“Oh.... That doesn’t look so good, does it?”
“Wal, it might be good. I’m givin’ Talman the benefit of a doubt. Cottonwood Basin is a long way an’ a big country. It’ll take lots of ridin’. But Rebel ought to be heah.”
“Is he working alone?”
“Yes. I gave him an odd job.”
“Watching Talman! — I should think the boys would hate spying on one another.”
“They shore do.”
“How could any of my men betray me!”
“Wal, Frayne explained thet in his way. I’d say aboot the same. Hail fellar meetin’ strangers, or cowmen not in the ootfit, a few stiff drinks, some persuasion — an’ a big roll of greenbacks. The queer thing is thet cowboys withoot a bit of yellow in them have been known to do it. An’ the other kind air easy. Slaughter an’ McCoy know this as wal as we do.
They’d shore pay handsome to corrupt some of our boys. If they are goin’ crooked.”
“Is there any doubt about that?”
“No. But to prove it! Thet’ll take hard clever work, unless these men grow bold or careless. Sellin’ to crooked cattle buyers they might steal indefinitely heah on this range without bein’ caugbt.”
“Britt, I don’t believe any cowmen, especially on my ranch, could ever fool Brazos or Frayne.”
“Wal,” rejoined Britt, made thoughtful by this pregnant observation from a woman’s intuition, “there might be a heap in thet.”
“Anyway, if it happens, don’t tell me,” concluded Holly, shrinkingly.
At supper that night Britt asked Frayne, “What’s this talk aboot the James boys?”
“They were in Las Animas,” returned Frayne. “It wasn’t known to everybody. But all kinds of talk was going around. I met Jesse and talked with him. I knew him years ago. He wanted me to join his band.”
“Wal! — What was he doin’ way oot heah?”
“He and Frank had been in California. They came right through Don Carlos’ Rancho. They ate at Holly’s table one night and she never knew who they were. Cole Younger and others of their gang met them at Las Animas. They had scattered after the robbery at the Kansas City Fair last September. Just before that, somewhere in Missouri, Jesse James had killed three men. Jesse told me that he and Frank had killed six men over a card game in California.”
“Nine men!”
“That’s nothing for the James Boys. If you cross them one way or another they’re tolerable bad hombres. Train robbers, bank robbers! They work on a big scale. Jesse must have twenty men in his outfit altogether. But they travel in small bunches.”
“Renn, air them James fellars any punkins with guns?” inquired Brazos, who had been an absorbed listener.
“Neither would stand much chance with you, Brazos, on an even break. But they’re not gunmen. Just plain robbers.”
“Gosh! I stood right alongside Jesse James in thet saloon — an’ didn’t savvy.”
“Damn good thing,” ejaculated Laigs Mason. “If you had, you’d picked a fight with him.”
“Aw, talk sense, yu little tumble-bug! I never picked a fight in my life.”
“Frayne, did James ask you what you were doin’?” queried Britt.
“No. I told him I had gone into the cattle business. He said New Mexico had the prettiest ranges he had seen. But that cattle raising was too slow, too tame for him.”
“Haw! Haw!” laughed one of the cowboys.
“Too slow an’ tame!” ruminated Mason, with scorn.
“Sho he’s wrong,” spoke up Jacksqn, seriously. “I done wuz a bank robber once. We stoled de safe oot of de bank, an’ sho nuff near busticated ourselves luggin’ it oot on de prairiee. Den we wearied ourselves fer two days breakin’ dat iron box open. Dere was nuthin’ inside but paper.”
A roar greeted the negro’s laconic exposition of why h
e considered the bank-robbing business undesirable.
“Wal, dawg-gone-it—”
“Lissen!” suddenly interrupted the Cherokee, holding up his hand, his sombre, bronze face intent. Jose stopped like a statue over his oven. The room became quiet.
“Cherry, what yu heah?” queried Brazos, sharply.
“Hoss come like hell!”
“Wal, I should smile,” agreed Brazos, rising, his face clouded. This cowboy had a penchant for presaging trouble.
“Keep still,” ordered Britt. “We all haven’t the ears of a jack-rabbit.... What if a hawse is comin’ like hell?”
That quieted the listening group. The doors were open. The warm summer night was still except for soft sounds of song and guitar in the distance. As Britt listened he swept his glance from one to another of his men. Brazos had heard. The half-breeds nodded. Santone flashed dark eyes at Cherry. Then all the others, almost as one man, exhibited proof of the Indian’s marvellous hearing. A second later Britt caught the faint rhythmic roll of the hoofs of a horse coming at a dead run on the hard road. There was nothing in this sound to make that group of cowboys tense and expectant. But it did. It was the moment and the place — the something charged in the atmosphere. Some of the boys went on eating, yet they were very quiet.
“Thet hombre is ridin’ in fer cigarettes,” burst out Mason.
“Mebbe he wants to keep cool this hyar hot night,” vouchsafed a comrade.
“Shore, he’s runnin’.”
“Jose, shoot me a hot biscuit.”
These and other remarks greeted Britt’s ears. Outside on the road the swift beat of hoofs slowed to a clatter, then a scraping slide that sent gravel pattering in a shower. Creak of leather, clang of spurs, thud of boots — and hard steps on the porch!
“Rebel!” sang out Brazos. “An’ the fire is oot!”
Swift clinking steps thumped through the bunk-house to the door of the dining-room. A rider entered. Britt recognized Rebel, but only from his unmistakable small stature and his garb. Lather and dust covered him; bits of brush and cedar stuck in his chaps; the odour of the range clung round him. From a grey and black visage blazed two terrible eyes that flashed over the outfit.