Collected Works of Zane Grey

by Zane Grey

  “Nope, not jest thet, though the deal shore called for some redeye. Where’d yu stop an’ soak up a load of likker?”

  “Wess, I haven’t taken one dod-blasted drink,” declared Brazos.

  “Thet settles it. Yu air crazy. I been afraid of it ever since — since—”

  “Since what, you tongue-tied hombre? I’m gonna get sore pretty pronto.”

  “Brazos, for the life of me. I cain’t see why. If I was in yore boots I’d be so dod-blasted happy—”

  “You been, afraid since what?” flashed Brazos, grasping Wess’s wrist with fingers of steel. There was something wrong about this old friend — something that had to be solved.

  “Wal, then — since — since Miss Neece braced me on the street in Dodge.”

  “What! Miss Neece?” Brazos’s voice sounded faint in his thrumming ears.

  “Shore. Yore fiancee,” replied Wess.

  “My — my fiancee? How’d you know — thet?”

  “She told me.”

  “Good Gawd! Wess, wasn’t she ashamed of thet?”

  “Ha! Ha! I should smile she wasn’t.”

  “Aw! But what for? How come? Was she visitin’ Dodge with her dad — and heahed you might know me?”

  “No, she shore wasn’t visitin’ an’ as for her dad — wal, never mind about him. Miss Neece was hot on yore trail, Brazos.”

  At that Brazos began to shake. “Hot on my — trail?” he echoed in a whisper.

  “I said hot, pardner. It was this way. I happened to run into the Hotel Dodge to see Jeff — you cain’t have forgot Jeff Davis? Wal, before I could’ say, howdy even, Jeff grabbed me an’ turned to a gurl standin’ there. I went stiff at sight of her. ‘What luck!’ burst out Jeff. ‘Heah he is now — Wess, this is Miss Neece. She has been askin’ if any Texas trail driver might know Brazos Keene. An’ I told her yu — Wess Tanner — was an old pardner of his.’ The gurl’s white face went red, then paled again. ‘Please come,’ she said, and led me off into the parlour.

  “‘Yu know Brazos?’ she asked, and she was trembling.

  “‘Wal, I used to, Miss,’ I said.

  “‘Yu’ve heerd about — what he did at Las Animas?’

  “‘Yes, Miss. Thet’s town talk heah. But I never believe range gossip, much lesss about Brazos Keene.”

  “‘Oh! But it is all true — and I am his — fiancee.’

  “‘Miss Neece, whatever Brazos done it was justified. He is a true-blue Texan, as fine a boy as ever forked a hawss—’ Wal, she thanked me with tears streamin’ down her lovely face. An’ then she told me yu an’ she had had a lovers’ quarrel. She was jealous of her twin sister. Yu had left her an’ gone to town, where yu shot her dad’s enemies, one of them the sheriff. Then yu rode away, thinkin’ yu’d made yoreself an outlaw, which yu hadn’t. She said she knew yu’d ride down into Texas an’ she wanted me to undertake to find yu. I said, ‘Lady, I’ll find Brazos for yu. An’ thet hombre will shoot my laig off for my pains.’ ‘Shoot yu?’ she cried. ‘He’ll bless yu all the rest of his life!’”

  “Right you were — Wess,” mumbled Brazos thickly, fighting the wave on wave of emotion that swayed him. How terrible and sweet this news! “I’ll shoot — yore laig off. Damn you! Wasn’t miserable enough? But tell the rest now. What was her crazy idee — coaxin’ you to find me?”

  “What do you think, old pard?” queried Wess, drawing a deep breath.

  “Think? I cain’t think. Tell me, or I’ll choke it out of you.”

  Wess clapped a heavy hand on Brazos’s shoulder. “Pard, Miss Neece’s idee was to come with me — till I found you,” replied Wess, his voice ringing. Brazos could only stare in fearful stupefaction into his friend’s face.

  “She’s heah!” rang out Wess. Brazos went blind. His shaking hand groped for Wess, who met it with his own and steadied him.

  “Brazos! For the good Lord’s sake!” Wess was saying as he shook Brazos. “What ails yu? Man, yu should be the happiest man in all Texas. Why, I never seen yu like this. An’ how many gurls have I seen yu crazy over? Shore, pard, this is, different. This gurl is the real an’ the last one.”

  “Which — one?” whispered Brazos, his eyes closed tight.

  “Which one? Say, the boy’s dotty. Which what? Which gurl, yu mean? Why, yu pore locoed ghost of yore old self. It’s yore sweetheart. Yore fiancee. The gurl yu’re engaged to. Brazos, there’s Mrs. Doan,” said Wess. “She’s lookin’ for yu, I’ll bet. Come, pard, yu better get it over.”

  Doan introduced Brazos to his wife, a comely, sturdy pioneer type, blonde and buxom. She certainly gave Brazos a looking over before she relaxed into friendliness and sympathy.

  “I think you had better see your fiancee at once. She is under a strain. She must care greatly for you.”

  “Cowboy, I seen thet an’ I had it figured when she stepped off the stage. Such eyes! Black an’ hungry as a starved Indian’s!” added Doan.

  “Wal, friends, she must think a lot of me,” replied Brazos gravely. “It’s too late now for me to worry about not ben’ good enough for her an’ ridin’ away like I did. Take me to her.”

  Mrs. Doan led him to a door at the south end of the post. “This is my room, Brazos. You’ll be secluded there. Make it up to’ her. Try to realise your great good fortune.”

  In the moment before he stepped into the room, Brazos faced his ultimatum. It was June he loved most and wanted for his wife, but it could never have been June who had the adventurous spirit to follow him. So Jan must never know. And love her he did, too, but not as he did June.

  In all humbleness, he told himself that he was lucky to have either of the twins, give up everything to come to him.

  Brazos was tense and tingling when he opened the door. He heard a gasp. Then he wheeled.

  “Brazos!” She had been standing almost behind the door, waiting, her face white, her eyes wide and dark. Brazos had not expected to see her in a white dress, but of course she had had time to change. Jan would never have let him see her travel-stained or dishevelled. Her face was lovely, despite the havoc he read there.

  “Jan! You, sweet devil,” he cried huskily, and held out his arms.

  She had been already on the way to him. Apparently his poignant exclamation or the welcome of his gesture suddenly halted her for a moment, while a spasm crossed her face. It passed, and she flew to his arms. She hid her face and clung to him.

  “Brazos — darling. I — I had to come,” she said in smothered tone.

  “Wal, I couldn’t be shore till I felt yu — like this,” he replied hoarsely, and, he held her tight to his breast, while he bent his head against her rippling hair. On the moment he could not see well. He seemed to float in that room.

  “Don’t — hug me — so,” she whispered, “unless you — don’t want me — to breathe. Brazos, you’re not — angry?”

  “Angry? No, Jan. I’m sort of buffaloed. My Gawd, it was sweet and good — and bad — of you to trail me heah.”

  “Bad?” she queried quickly.

  “For you, dear. I’m an outlaw, you know. You’ve disgraced yourself, and all of them.”

  “But for you, Brazos, darling?”

  “I reckon it’s near heaven again.”

  “Oh! Then you forgive me.”

  “I probably will — if you kiss me like you did thet turrible night.”

  “Same old Brazos! Only you look — Brazos, tell me you won’t send me back,” she importuned softly.

  “No, Jan. I cain’t do thet.”

  “But you want me?” she flashed.

  “Yes. I’m mad about you, Jan. I reckoned I’d got over it. But I hadn’t.”

  “Darling! And J-June?”

  “Wal, she didn’t trail me, did she?”

  Holding her close, Brazos leaned against a table and tried to separate conflicting tides of emotion from tumultuous and overwhelming thoughts.

  “Jan, I reckon we — might sit down,” he said huskily, and half lifted her to the couch. But she
would not let go of him. Weak and nervous now, she still clung. “You must be kinda tired — all thet long stage ride.”

  “No. I wasn’t tired,” she said. “Just overcome at meeting you — scared weak. I was afraid you’d send me back — that you — you love J-June best.”

  Brazos took her face between his hands and studied it gravely. The havoc he had seen appeared warmed out and the dark eyes had lost their strain.

  “Let us talk — now.” Her voice had quieted. “Brazos — Dad died suddenly, less than a week after you left.”

  “Aw! Jan! How awful!” cried Brazos, shocked to his depths. “My Gawd, I’m sorry. Thet fine, upstandin’ Westerner. Aw! but this is a tough one on me. I was turrible fond of yore dad. Jan, I don’t know what to say.”

  “Brazos, you’ve said enough. It comforts me. We knew you loved Dad — J-June and I. But Dad is gone. And if I hadn’t had you to think of — to save, I’d have sunk under that blow.”

  “Save? Jan, you think I have to be saved?”

  “Indeed I do. Thank heaven I caught up with you in time. Brazos, that is the saddest news. But there’s more — not sad — yet it’ll hurt you.”

  “Go ahaid, darlin’,” replied Brazos. “I reckon I can stand anythin’ now.”

  Jan averted her face. Her breast rose and fell. Her hand tightened on Brazos’s.

  “It’s about J — June. She eloped with Henry Sisk — came home married!”

  “What’re you tellin’ me, Jan Neece?” ejaculated Brazos fiercely.

  “You heard, me, darling.” Her voice was low, but perfectly clear, carrying a note unfamiliar to Brazos.

  “Jan, you lie!” Brazos leaped up in a perfect frenzy of amazement and fury.

  “What motive could I have in telling you a lie?” she returned proudly. Brazos turned her face around so that he could see it in the light. Its pallor, the proud, dark eyes, that peered straight and unfathomably into his, the set lips, almost stern now — these to Brazos were not eloquent of falsehood.

  “Jan, I beg — yore pardon,” he went on haltingly. “But that knocks me cold and sick, to my very gizzard. Worse than when I kill a man! But damn June’s fickle heart! She loved me. She proved it — and then, all in no time — she shows yellow. Sisk? Fine chap, shore, but he was sweet on you, wasn’t he?”

  “I thought so. He swore it.”

  “So he throwed you down for June?”

  “Something like that, darling.”

  “Did you care?”

  “Yes, I did. It hurt. I’m a vain creature. But I couldn’t marry Henry. On my soul of honour, I couldn’t.”

  “Why couldn’t you, Miss Neece?”

  “Because I loved you. I never knew how well until you ran away. Oh, Brazos — darling. Can I make up for the loss of June?”

  “I reckon. But let me be straight with you, Jan. If June hadn’t turned out faithless — neither you, however sweet and lovely you air, nor all the rest of the girls in the world, could have made up for the loss of her. Can you stand to heah thet?”

  “Yes, Brazos, I — I can stand it,” faltered Jan. “Brazos, can you stand another surprise?”

  He eyed her askance. But Jan did not look formidable just then or anything to be dubious about. He drew her into his arms, yet held her back, so he could study her face.

  “Shoot, Jan. You cain’t knock me out again.”

  “I’ll bet I can.” She leaned back, toying with his scarf, hiding her eyes. “Could you stand a sweetheart — and a — a wife — who is very, very rich?”

  “Good — Lord!” exploded. Brazos. “What you got up yore sleeve?”

  “Brazos, if I’m a very rich girl — that won’t make any difference to you?”

  “You’re talkin’ riddles. But I reckon — if you was a very rich girl — I wouldn’t feel turrible bad about it.”

  She let out a sweet peal of glad laughter and caught him around the neck. “Brazos, listen. Henry bought my share of Twin Sombreros Ranch and two thousand head of cattle.”

  Brazos sat mutely staring at this apparition — this angel of fortune — this living refutation of his vain judgment of women.

  “You see, it hasn’t turned out so badly, even if you have lost June.”

  “How much?” asked Brazos faintly.

  “How much what? Oh, how much I love you? Oh, more than any girl ever loved any man.”

  “Jan, my heart is weak. Don’t tease no more. How much did you sell out for?”

  “I made a pretty good deal, Hank Bilyen said. For the cattle I got forty dollars a head. Figure that out.”

  “I cain’t — darlin’ — I cain’t figger, or add — or anythin’.”

  “Well, that comes to eighty thousand dollars. And I sold my half of the ‘ranch for twenty thousand. I brought the money with me.”

  “Mercy!” begged Brazos.

  “I got a few thousand in cash, and the rest in drafts on the Las Animas bank. Now, Brazos, darling, now what are we going to do?”

  “Now, Jan, darlin’, what air we goin’ to do?” mimicked Brazos in consternation.

  “You’re not exactly a poor cowboy, down at his heels. You can do things.”

  “Jan, I cain’t do nothin’ but love you,” replied Brazos abjectly.

  “Well, that’s grand. But I prefer you do a little besides loving me. Brazos, those boys with Wess Tanner were sweet on me. And you know I’m unreliable. You had better put a halter on me while you have the chance. Dad always said that once I was haltered I’d steady down.”

  “Jan, at thet I believe you’ve changed — grown. But still the same old sweet devil. Will you take my solemn word?”

  “Yes, Brazos, I will.”

  “Wal, before I entered thet door I knew I’d ask you to marry me — first, because thet old love came thunderin’ back — second because I would have asked you if I hadn’t loved you, I was struck so deep by yore trailin’ me — and last because I could never let one word of range gossip get started about Jan Neece.”

  She appeared enraptured, yet there was a restraint, a doubt about her that puzzled Brazos. He caught his breath and asked her to marry him.

  “Yes, darling,” she replied, and hid her face upon his shoulder.

  “When?” he flashed, tense and keen.

  “Need we wait?” she asked. That indeed betrayed this frank and devilishly sweet Jan Neece at her truest.

  “If I had my way we wouldn’t wait atall,” rang out Brazos.

  “Your way is my way — and always shall be,” declared the girl eloquently, “If it is possible I will marry you here.”

  “Jan! It’s shore possible. Doan told me they had a church heah. Course they’d have to have a minister.”

  “Run, darling — and find out. Jan, you know, can change her mind.”

  Brazos leaped up, to forget his sombrero, and rush from the room.

  Soon after, Brazos ran back to Mrs. Doan’s door, halting when he came to it. He sensed a mysterious portent beyond that threshold. It checked him — held him with bated breath. But he knocked. There was no reply. Uncertain and strangely agitated, he entered the room. Jan was lying face down on the couch.

  “Jan, dear, what ails you?”

  “Oh, Brazos! I — I can’t go through with it. I’m a little fourflush! I have none of the nerve you — you credited me with,” burst from her in smothered tones.

  Brazos’s heart sank like lead. “Darlin’, you cain’t what?” he asked tenderly. “I reckon you mean — marry me?”

  “No! No!” she cried frantically, raising her face, to disclose it tear-wet and shamed, with tragic eyes dark upon him. “I’m crazy to to marry you. I’ll die if you won’t have me. And, oh, misery, you’ll hate me now!”

  “Ump-umm, honey. I cain’t hate you, no matter what you’ve done, so long as you’re crazy to marry me.”

  “Brazos, I was just wild for you. I’d have done anything — anything. But now, you’ve been so sweet — and wonderful — I can’t go through with it.”


  “Jan Neece, will you come out with it?” demanded Brazos in desperation. “That’s — just — it. I’m not Jan Neece — I’m June!”

  “Lord Almighty! Am I drunk or crazy?” burst out Brazos, tearing his hair and staring incredulously at her. “Who air you?”

  “Oh, Brazos! Don’t look so — so awful at me. It’s I! June — June Neece! Not Jan. I couldn’t live without you. It was Jan who eloped with Henry. And I thought you loved her most — that she could do anything with you — and I came here to find you — make you marry me first — then tell you afterward.”

  “You damned — devilish little cat!” declared Brazos, astounded beyond passion. “I don’t believe you.”

  “Oh — Brazos,” she wailed. “But darling, I am June. I swear to heaven I am. Jan couldn’t have done this rash thing. She hadn’t the nerve. She didn’t love you enough. Why, I’m ashamed to admit, she was on Henry’s neck as soon as you left. Brazos, you must see I’m telling the truth. If I were Jan, intending to get you by hook or crook — would I be betraying my plot now? No! I’d wait till we were — married.”

  There was incontestable logic in this passionate confession. Brazos believed her now. Only those kisses had deceived him. She had acted them faithfully enough, though perhaps once June had cast restraint and decorum aside, they had at last expressed her true fervour.

  “I cain’t believe you,” said Brazos solemnly. “Not unless you prove you’re June. I have had about all I can stand of taken’ Jan for June — and June for Jan.”

  “Prove I’m June?” she echoed. “Of course I can. I am June. My name June is on the drafts for all that money.”

  Brazos sagged desperately under that potential proof.

  “Aw, you could fool Henderson just as easy as me. Haven’t you fooled everybody under the sun? No, Miss Neece, you gotta prove you’re June.”

  “Wait till we’re married,” she pleaded, so sweetly and humbly that Brazos smothered another wild desire to snatch her to his breast. Then an idea flushed into his rapturous mind.

  “No. And let me remind you thet pastor with Doan and Wess will be cornin’ pretty pronto.”

  “Beloved! Trust me!” she whispered beseechingly. “I would die of shame if they came now.”