Collected Works of Zane Grey

by Zane Grey

  “Howdy, gentlemen,” drawled Brazos in his cool voice. At the moment he knew he risked no peril from them, and they had confronted him significantly unarmed. What their idea was, Brazos could not conjecture.

  “Howdy, Keene. Glad to meet you,” said Orcutt curtly.

  Syvertsen returned Brazos’s greeting in a voice Brazos would have recognised among a thousand voices. If Bard Syvertsen had been armed he would have been close to the death Brazos meant to mete out to him.

  “My girl has been spending a good deal of time, with you, cowboy,” he said. “I object to it.”

  “Yeah — an’ on what grounds?”

  “No insult intended. But it’s common talk about town — you’re a trifler with women. I told Bess, and that she must stop your attentions. She said I could tell you myself.”

  “Ahuh. Wal, I’m sorry to say I cain’t take offence. But in this heah case I’m in daid earnest.”

  “Keene, I did not believe Bess,” returned Syvertsen. “That accounts for this intrusion. You’ll excuse us.”

  They turned into the hotel and Brazos’s keen ear caught a remnant of a curse Orcutt was bestowing upon the other.

  “Bess, what’n hell was all thet about?” queried Brazos. The girl seemed to be in distress:

  “Come. People are staring,” she answered hurriedly, and drew him away.

  If Bess Syvertsen had been a fascinating creature on former days, she was on this occasion vastly more. Only late in the day did Brazos gather that the climax had come — that Bess had been driven by her accomplices to end the farce — or that she was a woman being torn apart by love and an evil power too strong for her. After supper, she leaned her elbows on the table, her face on her hands, and gazed at Brazos with eyes that hid much and expressed more.

  “Let’s go,” she said suddenly, her eyes alight with new impulse too soft-to be crafty. They went out upon the street. There was no one in the lobby of Hailey’s hotel.

  “Come!” And she drew him with steel hands, and will as steely, up the stairs to the floor above. The corridor was shadowy. Brazos grew wary. Bess unlocked a door and opened it.

  “Wal, sayin’ good night early, eh, honey?” he drawled. “See yu to-morrow same time.”

  “Yes — but come in — now,” she panted.

  “Bess! Air yu loco — askin’ me into yore bedroom?”

  “Loco, indeed! Come — don’t be a fool.”

  “I’m only human, Bess — an’ I reckon I’d weaken if we was goin’ to marry. But with all yore love talk I cain’t see yu’d marry me.”

  “Brazos Keene! Would you marry me?” she whispered passionately.

  “My Gawd! What yu take me for? I told yu I was a Texan an’ had respect for a woman I loved.”

  She threw her arms around his neck and clung to him, quivering, appearing to stifle speech as well as sobs upon his breast. It was as if a new emotion had consumed a lesser fire within her. The paroxysm ended in a passionate embrace, in sudden wild kisses upon his cheek and lips. She tore at his hair. “Go — go — before I—”

  She broke off huskily and, releasing him, shut the door in his face.

  Brazos’s morning habit of whipping and rolling his guns — at rare intervals he packed two guns — had infinitely more meaning next morning than the perfunctory practice indulged in by all gunmen. His instinct told him the day had come — the meeting with the murderers of Allen Neece was not far away.

  He went down to breakfast, the thin skin on his thumb feeling raw. He was late for this meal, yet he lingered over it, brooding while he watched the street. When he saw Surface drive by in a buckboard he muttered, “Ah-huh. I reckon my hunch was aboot correct.”

  At length Brazos stalked out, tense for the climax. He met Kiskadden and Inskip on the street.

  “What’s Surface doin’ in town?” he queried bluntly.

  “Meetin’ of the Cattlemen’s Association,” replied Inskip. “Surface looked black as a thundercloud.”

  “Either of yu know Syvertsen an’ Orcutt when yu see them?”

  “I do,” returned Kiskadden. “They ducked in Hall’s to avoid meetin’ me. Somethin’ on their minds, Brazos.”

  “Will yu fellers do me a favour? Cross the street heah an’ walk up thet side an’ down on this side. Don’t miss seein’ anybody, but be particular to locate Syvertsen an’ Orcutt. I’ll wait heah.”

  Brazos leaned against the wall and watched, while his friends reconnoitred. They seemed to take a long while. Hank Bilyen came along.

  “Kiskadden told me you was heah. What’s comin’ off, Brazos?” he queried.

  “Go into Hall’s an’ line up at the bar. If Syvertsen an’ Orcutt come oot be shore where they go.”

  Bilyen’s uncertainty ceased. Without another word he walked on to enter Hall’s saloon. Inskip was the first of the other two men to get back.

  He breathed hard; his grey eyes glinted.

  “Brazos, I got a hunch there’ll be hell a-poppin’ pronto,” he announced excitedly. “I seen Surface an’ Bodkin in the doorway of the stairs leadin’ up to the Odd Fellows. Surface was poundin’ his fist in his hand, purple in the face. An’ Bodkin was the colour of sheepskin.”

  “Ahuh aboot what time will thet cattlemen’s meetin’ be comin’ off?”

  “At two. But I reckon with Surface on the rampage it’ll be late.”

  Kiskadden reached Brazos at exactly two o’clock, the time of Brazos’s appointment with Bess. The Texan showed no exterior fire, but Brazos felt him burn.

  “Surface just went into Hailey’s. He stopped Bess Syvertsen, who was comin’ oot. I couldn’t heah what Surface said to the girl, but I shore heahed her answer.”

  “An’ what was thet?”

  “‘No, damn you, Surface! I won’t! Get someone else to do yore dirty work!’”

  “Ahuh. Short an’ sweet. I had Bess figured. Anythin’ more?”

  “I peeped into Hall’s. Yore men air still there. Watchin’ oot the window.”

  “Wal, thet’ll be aboot all. Yu stay heah. An’ when I get into Hall’s yu follow pronto.”

  Brazos strode swiftly into the first store, traversed its length, hurried out into the alley, and ran to the side street. Here he slowed up, caught his breath, and went on to Hailey’s hotel, which occupied the corner at its junction with the main street. Brazos stepped into the side entrance.

  Surface stood near the door of the hall, his tall form bent over the girl, who was in the act of wrenching free from his clutch. His back was toward Brazos. Bess leaned against the wall as if for support. She looked a defiant, hounded creature, game to the finish.

  “You can’t, scare me, Raine Surface,” she said, low and hard. “I wouldn’t be in your boots for all your money.”

  Brazos entered the lobby.

  CHAPTER 8

  “WAL, BESS, AIR yu meanin’ daid men’s boots?” queried Brazos, as he stepped in between them.

  “Oh — Brazos!” gasped the girl.

  Surface’s visage changed instantly, markedly in colour, monstrously in expression. Unquestionably for an instant he thought his death was imminent.

  “What yu raggin’ my girl for?” asked Brazos, with a pretence of jealousy.

  “Your — girl?” ejaculated Surface huskily. “She’s deceived you, Keene — same as all of us. She’s Syvertsen’s—”

  “Daughter, yu mean?”

  The rancher swerved. As his first shocking fear subsided he began to recover his nerve. “Daughter — hell! She’s no more his daughter than mine.”

  “So yu say? wal, what is she, then?”

  “What could she be, Keene? For a cowboy who’s supposed to be so damned smart you’re sure a fool.”

  “That’ll do, Surface,” cut in Bess. “I meant to tell him myself and leave Las Animas. Take care you don’t drive me to tell him what you are!”

  Brazos jerked as if stung. “What the hell!” he flashed. “Bess, I don’t like this talk. But I trust yu. Surface, I always thought there w
as somethin’ queer aboot yu.” Dealing Surface a powerful left-handed blow, Brazos knocked him flat. The rancher, scrambling up, stuttering maledictions, lifted a bloody visage: “You’ll pay for this outrage — you—”

  “Come — Brazos,” said Bess, low-voiced, and she touched his arm.

  “Doggone it, Bess!” complained Brazos, going with her into the street. “I come pretty near gettin’ sore.”

  “You well had reason,” she replied. “I’m sorry you saw me with Surface. You might believe that influenced me — to tell you — what I must.”

  “Ump-umm, Bess. But yu don’t have to tell me nothin’.”

  “I must — if it’s the last honest thing I ever do.”

  “All right, if yu put it thet way.”

  “I was a cheat and a liar,” she went on swiftly. “Whatever else I am you can guess. Surface told the truth. Bard Syvertsen is not my father. I never had any parents that I knew of. I was brought up in a home for — for illegitimates. Syvertsen did not ruin me — nor Orcutt. Don’t hold that against them. They were hired to make away with you. I was to work on your well-known weakness for women — entice you to some secluded spot — or my room, where you’d be shot — supposedly by an angry father and lover for attempting to dishonour me. That was the plot. But I give you my word — never once since I met you have I kept faith with them. I double-crossed them. And to-day after I say good — good-bye to you — I’ll tell them—”

  “Ump-umm, sweetheart,” returned Brazos enigmatically.

  They had almost reached Hall’s saloon. Inskip stood at his post across the street; Kiskadden remained where Brazos had left him; Bilyen had not come out. Brazos laid hold of Bess’s arm with his left hand, so that she could not break away from him.

  “Girl, when yu confessed all thet yu proved a lot. Yu won my respect — an’ yu saved yoreself a term in prison, if not yore life!”

  With that he swung ‘her with him into the saloon, and sent her whirling, almost falling toward Syvertsen and Orcutt, who were backing away from the window. Brazos leaped back in front of the door, so that he could face them and all the big room.

  “Everybody in heah freeze!” he yelled, his voice loud with strident ring.

  An instant silence contrasted with the former clink and hum of the saloon. On the moment Kiskadden came sliding in behind Brazos, closely followed by Inskip. Then they backed slowly to Brazos’s left step by step until the tables halted them.

  “Yu hell-cat!” burst out Syvertsen. “What does this mean?”.

  The girl stiffened as her head swept up and back to the wall, knocking off her sombrero. Then she appeared a white-faced woman at bay.

  “I told him!” she cried.

  “You told him that — you told him who—” gasped Syvertsen.

  “Stop!” thundered Brazos. “Yu’re forgettin’ I’m here. Yu ask me.”

  Both Bess’s antagonists had actually forgotten the presence of Brazos Keene. They were rudely reminded of it and that the stiffness of the spectators, the silence, the strange position of the cowboy, bent a little, both brown, powerful hands extended a little low, and quivering — that all these constituted a tremendous menace. Then the significance of Brazos Keene dawned appallingly upon them. He confronted them. There was no escape. And the reputation of this fire-eyed cowboy might as well have been blazoned on the walls.

  “You hombres murdered Allen Neece an’ blamed thet job on me,” went on Brazos relentlessly. “Yu murdered him because Surface wanted it done. An’ yu schemed to put me oot of the way because Surface was afraid I’d take Allen Neece’s trail. Wal, yu bet yore life I took it, an’ it ends right heah. Surface beat Abe Neece oot of Twin Sombreros Ranch. Yu men held up Neece thet night an’ robbed him. An’ yu all sicked this girl on me ‘cause none of yu had the nerve to meet me face to face — Wal, thet’s my say. An’ after all, yu’re meetin’ me face to face!”

  As Brazos ended he read the desperate intent in Orcutt’s eyes and beat him to a gun. Orcutt’s heart was split even as he pulled trigger and his bullet hissed hotly by Brazos’s ear.

  Syvertsen, slow to realise and act, scarcely had his gun free when Brazos shot him through. The bull thudded into the wall. Syvertsen did not fall. He did not lose sight or intent. But his muscular co-ordination had been destroyed. Fire and smoke belched from his wavering gun. His frown of immense surprise, his pale lighted eyes, his incoherent ejaculations of hate were all appalling to see.

  The smoke cleared away, disclosing Bess, back against the wall, her arms widespread, with her gaze fixed terribly upon the fallen men.

  “He — killed — them?” she panted, as if dazed. “Brazos Keene!”

  Suddenly she sprang out from the wall, formidable as a tigress.

  “You fooled me — to kill them!”

  “Don’t draw, Bess — don’t!” warned Brazos shrilly.

  “I’ll kill you!”

  As she whipped out her gun Brazos had to be quick to save his life. He took a shot at her arm, high up. The heavy bullet spun her around like a top and sent the little gun flying. Shrieking wildly she collided with the wall, bounced out to fall beyond the two dead men.

  As Brazos sheathed his gun and knelt to lift her head she ceased the cry of agony. She gazed up at Brazos, fascinated, suddenly bereft of all hate and passion.

  “You’ve killed me — Brazos?”

  “I’m terrible scared Bess,” replied Brazos, and he did not lie. He saw that he had hit her in the breast or shoulder, instead of in the arm. Blood was pouring Out. He was afraid to open her blouse.

  “Bess, if yu have to go — make it a clean job,” said Brazos earnestly. “Confess. Tell the truth about this deal.”

  “The truth?” she whispered.

  “Yes. Of Allen Neece’s murder.”

  “All right,” she said, smiling. “My right name is Bess Moore. I am not Syvertsen’s wife. We belonged to Raine Surface’s crooked outfit at Abilene. Surface is a man of two sides. One of them is black as hell. We were called here to put Allen Neece out of the way. I got him to drink — coaxed him to ride out of town with me. Orcutt roped him from behind bushes on the road — jerked him off his horse. As he lay on the ground Bard shot him — in the back. They carried him to the Hill cabin — left him in the loft — Then Brazos Keene rode up. Bard had a few words with Brazos — thought he deceived him. He rode back to town and fastened the crime upon Brazos. But our own plot miscarried — and lately — Surface called us again — to do the same job — over—”

  “Thet’ll do, Bess. Give me the paper, Kiskadden. Bess, can you sign yore name heah?” importuned Brazos.

  Bess signed her name and then fell back fainting. Brazos, with shaking hands, tore open her blouse, shivering at the white, swelling breast. He pulled the blouse down over the blood-stained shoulder to feel for the wound, frantic in fear that it would be too low. But he found it high up, just where the arm met the shoulder, a bad, painful wound, but not in any sense dangerous to life.

  “Aw!” Brazos burst out. “She’s not bad hurt at all. She’s only fainted. Hank, get somebody to help carry her to Bailey’s. Call the doctor. I’ll be back pronto.”

  Brazos snatched the paper from Bilyen and relinquished the girl to him. Then he stood up, tense and eager.

  “It’s aboot all, men, but not quite,” he said as he carefully folded the confession. “Come with me. Yu, too, Kiskadden, an’ fetch somebody with yu.”

  At the foot of the Odd Fellows stairway Brazos halted to load his gun.

  “Brazos, is yore haid cool?” asked Kiskadden. “I ain’t presumin’ to advise yu. I’m just askin’.”

  “Speak oot, old-timer.”

  “It might look better to hold yore hand at Surface. Yu know the range — an’ he has friends. Don’t let them call this a gun-man’s spree.”

  “Wal, unless he goes for his gun — which he won’t. Only I hope to Gawd he does! Come on an’ step easy.”

  Brazos went up the stairs three steps at a time, and h
is followers strung after him. The door of the hall stood open. Surface was holding forth with resonant voice.

  “Gentlemen, all our fellow citizens were invited to participate here. Evidently those who stayed away were satisfied to leave important matters to us. We have all voted, and the result assures Bodkin’s election as sheriff of Las Animas. Formerly he was appointed by the Cattlemen’s Association. That is a distinction with a difference. There remains to invite undesirable loafers, gamblers, dissolute women, suspected cowmen, and at least one notorious cowboy, to leave Las Animas.”

  Brazos drew his gun and stepped into the hall. “Wal, Surface,” he called ringingly, “heah’s yore last-named undesirable — to talk for himself.”

  No noticeable change showed in the rancher’s pale face. He had begun to weigh this intrusion. Kiskadden, Inskip, and others filed in with grave, grim visages.

  “Gentlemen, you come too late to participate in this election,” he rolled out sonorously.

  “Ump-umm!” retorted Brazos. “Surface, did yu heah me? I said yore jig was up. I just shot yare ootflt, Bard Syvertsen — Hen Orcutt — an’ Bess!”.

  “Dead!”

  “Wal, the girl lived to sign her confession.”

  Then a startling transformation made Surface another man.

  “Yu’re gonna heah thet confession read.”

  With left hand, watching the cattleman like a hawk, Brazos extracted the paper from his vest.

  “Somebody read this.”

  Kiskadden took the paper and with slow, deliberate voice, he read it solemnly. When he had finished Surface seemed actually to have shrunken in stature.

  “All right, Surface, I can’t waste time waitin’,” went on Brazos. “March down heah.”

  Brazos marched Surface down the stairway to the street, and into the rancher’s buckboard. Brazos climbed into the back seat.

  “Drive oot to Neece’s ranch,” he called, loud enough for the gathering bystanders to hear.

  “Neece’s ranch! Where’s that?”

  “Where do yu reckon, yu robber? Twin Sombreros Ranch!”

  In short order the spirited team arrived at the ranch.