by Zane Grey
Slocum’s seatmate lapsed into silence, brooding over this new angle to his problem. Fortunately, there was a chance of finding Miller, and he counted on the teamster in Rock Springs to supply him with the proof he needed to avenge Jimmy Weston’s murder. And while he brooded the stage rolled on over a good road through a lonely country of gray-green sage bounded on all horizons by gray escarpments and scalloped slopes above which the white and black ranges rose in their ageless majesty. In the distance he saw a browsing herd of elk. And the sage was dotted with white-rumped antelope. The hours passed, the passengers slept as the wheels revolved and the steady clip-clop of rhythmic hoofs ate up the distance. The rich sage and grassland gradually gave way to barrens and dry lake beds, and a rougher country generally. They forded several amber streams of swift-flowing water. Lincoln saw many signs of beavers in the willow thickets.
The time came when Slocum roused himself from the silence that apparently he had thought his passenger preferred to keep. And he began to talk of interesting events that had taken place in the old days and more recently in the country they were passing through. Not until late in the day did they pass a ranch house, a lonely little cabin, bravely facing the vast range. But after that ranches appeared few and far between, until around about sunset when they arrived at a post where they were to spend the night. Linc avoided as best he could contacts with the well- meaning and affable passengers. After supper he paced a lonely windswept road and soon sought the bed provided, anxious over the events of tomorrow when the stage reached Rock Springs, and restless over the thought that tomorrow he would be seeing Lucy.
Rock Springs appeared to be much more of a town than South Pass. It was an important station on the Union Pacific Railroad, and the center of a soft-coal mining district. As such, it seemed to have the orderliness and stability of a permanent town. South Pass was like a mushroom. It had come up in a night and if the mines played out it could vanish almost as quickly.
Nevertheless as Linc walked down the main street, early in the afternoon, he saw that saloons and gambling halls were not conspicuous for their scarcity. While there was no rush of pedestrians as in South Pass, there were plenty of ranchers, farmers, and cowboys in town on business.
The Elk Hotel, to which Slocum had directed the Nebraskan, was a large and commodious frame building facing the railroad station. He went in to inquire if the Misses Bandon were registered there. The clerk replied in the affirmative, and the knowledge that Lucy was being sheltered in that same building set his nerves tingling. Not often had he written his name so illegibly. He had a room assigned to him and then asked where he could find the best clothing store in town. Upon being informed he hurried out, desiring to change his cowboy garb before he met the Bandons.
The suits available in the store did not greatly impress the suddenly hard-to-please Nebraskan. There were plenty of them made of fine material, but too plain to appeal to his present mood. An elaborate black broadcloth gambler’s outfit, with flowered vest and ruffled white shirt, wide-brimmed sombrero and high-top boots, all of the richest quality, went a bit to the other extreme, but in the end Lincoln purchased a suit of rather extreme cut that fit him as though it had been tailored for him. He returned to the hotel and to his room on the second floor without meeting the two women he feared yet longed to see, and it was with great relief that he threw his new purchases on the bed. Beads of sweat dampened his brow.
“Lordy!” he muttered. “What would Jimmy have thought of me? Vince will think I’ve gone loco.... And so I have!... But I’ve got it pretty bad! I guess I’d wear an Indian war bonnet if I thought it would impress Lucy Bandon!”
Whenever Linc was not in action he was deep in thought. What on earth, he wondered, was he going to say when he met them? Fortunately he could go slowly. The Bandons would stay in Rock Springs until the herd of young cattle arrived. Kit Bandon would sell or ship by railroad before leaving town. Leisurely Lincoln bathed and shaved, and arrayed himself in his handsome new outfit. Then he surveyed himself with grim amusement. He discovered that he really was vain of his good looks — something he had always felt was a point where he differed from other cowboys. He scarcely recognized himself in his city garb, as he turned this way and that to observe himself in the wavy mirror. He would miss his guess if he did not give Lucy Bandon the surprise of her life. And he had to laugh when he remembered Kit Bandon. If she had liked him in his old range outfit, what would she think of him now?
The big guns belted on bulged the frock coat a little at the hips. Gravely he made sure that they could be drawn quickly in case of need. The mirror showed the butts plainly, glinting darkly against the black fabric of his clothes.
As Linc viewed the somber apparition in the mirror he could not restrain a queer feeling of satisfaction at the thought of Lucy Bandon. After all, this masquerade was for her. Suddenly he espied his spurs. He always wore them except when he slept, and often even then, when he was out on the range. At length he decided that he would not feel himself unless he wore at least these accouterments of his trade. Leisurely he buckled them on. Long, with huge rowels, worn bright from long use, the Spanish silver spurs looked most effective against the fine black leather of his boots. And as the cowboy stepped they jangled musically.
Then Bradway extracted a roll of greenbacks from his jeans, and with another glance at his stern image in the mirror, left the room to go downstairs.
It amazed him to find that his preoccupation had been so great that the day had passed and lights were bright in the hotel lobby. The lobby appeared to be noisy and active with people; loud voices and the clink of glasses came from a bar near at hand. He could look through the parlor into the dining room, where guests were entering.
The Nebraskan stood back at ease and watched for the two women he expected to see sooner or later. He was aware of the attention his presence created, and felt utterly indifferent to it. Outwardly cold, burning within, he awaited a meeting he divined would be a crucial one. Ready for he knew not what, he felt equal to any situation.
A handsome stripling of a cowboy slouched into the lobby. He answered the description given Lincoln by Bloom Burton, except that his actual presence bore a vitality and a cool demeanor that Lincoln had learned to associate with cowboys of the hard and reckless school. He packed a gun and wore it low. Lincoln did not get a full look at his face.
The cowboy was looking for someone with an impatience and boldness that kept him on the move. Linc had just about made up his mind to accost him when he disappeared into a corridor that evidently led to the bar. He had a pretty good hunch that it was Hank Miller, and that he was here to meet the Bandons. The Nebraskan kept his eye on the lobby where Kit Bandon and Lucy would have to enter from the floor above, and he had scarcely returned to his point of vantage when they appeared at the head of the broad stairway.
Lucy was holding her aunt’s arm, evidently trying to detain her. But Kit descended, step by step, until Lincoln could see her great black eyes searching the lobby. The two women had dressed for dinner. The Nebraskan’s gaze devoured the slim girl, attractively clad in blue. But she was only a pale shadow beside the colorful Kit. They reached the bottom of the stairway and paused under the bright cluster of oil lamps.
Linc watched them with intense curiosity, restraining his eagerness to approach. Lucy had not ceased her importunities. Her pretty face betrayed repressed agitation; her eyes shone darkly. Her aunt’s beautiful face, too, wore a troubled look. Without her smile, the play of her features, and her customary animation, she appeared older. He muttered to himself: “You bet you’re in trouble old girl — a hell of a lot deeper than you know!”
At that moment the handsome cowboy put in an appearance. Linc saw only his back as he entered the scene. He moved with grace and assurance. Bradway thought he could read in Kit Bandon’s dark eyes as she glanced up at the cowboy a fleeting suspicion and fear, and at the same time a look of anger which she made no effort to conceal. If the cowboy were Miller he was evident
ly on her black list. But something the newcomer must have said seemed to mollify her. Then the cowboy turned to Lucy; his manner toward the girl was one of bold admiration and he held her hand so long that a fire of jealousy was kindled in Bradway. So this was the way the wind blew! Kit stood by laughing at them. Evidently she was enjoying the little byplay, but Linc did not share her enjoyment. He regained his cool equilibrium only when Lucy pulled her hand free. It was a deliberate move, expressive of annoyance if not disgust, as was the look she gave the smiling cowboy. The tight hot band around Lincoln’s heart fell away.
He approached the trio. Kit’s attention was on the cowboy, whose back was turned to Linc. But as the Nebraskan drew close Lucy recognized him. He bowed, but she only stared, her lips parted. Suddenly she gave a violent start and turned pale. Then the Nebraskan spoke to Kit.
“Miss Bandon, here I am, late, I’m sorry to say,” he remarked, smiling coolly. Kit wheeled at the sound of a voice that was familiar. But for an instant she did not recognize him. With a magnificent flash of her eyes she swept him up and down, and back again! Lincoln removed his new Stetson to make her a gallant bow. As he straightened up he saw Lucy stiffen. The cowboy turned as on a pivot. Then Kit recognized Bradway. What followed was infinitely more than Linc had counted on. As if by magic the troubled face of the Maverick Queen was transformed. Amazement, incredulity, wonder — and something even more revealing, a lovely light flashing in her smile — flooded her expressive and lovely face, leaving him anything but sure of himself. She was obviously overjoyed, overcome at the sight of him. And as Linc looked into those melting, eager, dark eyes he seemed to forget all about the younger woman beside her.
“Linc Bradway! — You — you—” she cried, her voice rich and full, breaking with emotion. “You followed me? Dressed like a flash gambler! You fooled even me!... Oh, you dear boy!”
She caught his outstretched hand and shook it with an unrestrained fever of delight. Her fervor seemed considerably greater than he had anticipated. His nerve and wit did not desert him, but he felt as if he suddenly had been enveloped by a burning wind. He suffered a moment of helpless inability to cope with the effusiveness and fire of her greeting. Then she was presenting him to the others.
“Lucy, this is the cowboy friend I told you about — Linc Bradway. It appears he is also a gambler and actor. Lord only knows what else!”
As Linc met the level blue eyes of the young girl he tried to send with his gaze a message expressing joy at their reunion and a plea for understanding. She acknowledged the introduction with a slight bow and averted glance.
“Linc, this is a cowboy friend of ours — Hank Miller,” went on Kit, happily. “Hank, shake hands with Linc Bradway.”
But Miller did not offer his hand. If he had done so Linc would have ignored it. He was concerned with the fact that he was meeting Miller face to face, and the moment was pregnant with many possibilities. Perhaps the instinct so powerful in Lincoln had communicated itself to Miller.
“How do, Mr. Bradway. Reckon I wouldn’t take you for a cowboy,” he drawled, insolently.
“Howdy, Hank Miller,” retorted Lincoln, curtly. “Same for me. I’d take you for a teamster.”
“Teamster?” echoed Miller, taken off his guard.
“Sure. Teamster, you know. A hombre who drives wagons!” As he spoke Lincoln disengaged his arm from Kit’s, and stepped aside. This man was no unknown quantity to him. Miller was the rank poison type of cowboy. His handsome tanned face blazed scarlet, and a look of hatred and suspicion burned in his eyes. They were not smiling now, nor sleepy.
“Bradway, thet crack calls for an explanation,” he muttered.
“Aw, you don’t have to be told in kindergarten language. You’re a bright fellow.” He had rubbed Miller the wrong way, on a raw spot. And he had gauged him correctly almost at first sight. He felt that merciless instinct, that surge of icy rage, which rose in him when he divined that he had to kill a man.
“Say, you jealous roosters!” broke in Kit Bandon. “Don’t make us a scene here in the hotel. Have you no manners?” And she grasped Miller’s arm and held on to it.
Bradway eased his posture and said: “Sorry, ladies; I guess your friend didn’t like my remark. I’m a careless person.... Miller, I apologize.”
“Yaass! Well, I never swallow my words.... You can go to hell!”
“Thanks. There’s a pretty fair possibility that you will beat me there.”
“Hank, cut it!” flashed Kit, as the cowboy opened his tight lips to reply. “Linc, will you join us at dinner?”
“Delighted, provided the dinner is on me,” he replied.
“Lucy, take charge of him, and for heaven’s sake keep him quiet,” ordered Kit, leading Miller off toward the dining room. She hung on the cowboy’s arm, while she obviously was delivering herself of some strong and angry language. Linc took advantage of the moment to bend toward Lucy and whisper: “Lucy, don’t look like that! For God’s sake, don’t believe anything she told you!”
“You hypocrite!” whispered Lucy, gazing straight ahead.
“Lucy, I beg of you...” protested Lincoln, unhappily.
“You handsome flash gambler! Cowboy?” She let out a little scornful trill of laughter, cold as ice. “Jimmy Weston was a liar!... I was crazy to believe a word he said!”
“Certainly you were. And I ought to have my head examined for falling in love with you!” Linc’s quick retort ended Lucy’s defiance and the whispered colloquy, carried on behind Kit’s back. She led them into a corner of the dining room, where a table had been reserved. When Kit designated where they were to sit Lincoln said apologetically: “Miss Bandon, would you mind if I sat where I could face the room?” And he moved to the chair in the corner. Kit sat down to his right and Lucy to his left. Miller laughed. “I’m not afraid to turn my back on anyone.... No one’s lookin’ for me!”
“Miller, I venture to guess you are mistaken,” said Lincoln.
This exchange of words angered Kit.
“Can’t you two gamecocks be gentlemen long enough for us to eat?.. . After dinner, if you must keep picking at each other go out into the street.”
“Wal, thet suits me. I’m pretty hungry,” rejoined Miller, and he smiled at Lucy. His presence, minus the insolent tone and look, was singularly attractive. Lincoln made the reservation that Miller might be a dangerous rival for the girl, as well as being a hard man to draw against.
“Miss Bandon, do they serve champagne in this two-bit burg?” asked the Nebraskan.
“Indeed they do,” replied Kit, beaming upon him. “I have already ordered dinner for us. But you can order the champagne.”
Miller spent a long moment in keen and speculative scrutiny of Bradway. Probably no man could intimidate this hombre. He belonged to the breed of cowboys who would fight upon the slightest provocation. For the moment Linc dismissed a draw with him from his mind. With the ordering of dinner and wine the situation eased. Linc Bradway found Lucy’s foot touching his, but when he attempted to return the pressure, she moved it away. Twice more this happened, even while Miller talked softly to her, his eyes hungrily fixed upon her. Lincoln listened quietly to Kit’s talk. She was evidently trying to shake off the apprehension or the trouble she had betrayed earlier. At last Lincoln succeeded in pressing the toe of his boot against Lucy’s foot. This time she made no effort to pull away. The contact, slight as it was, heartened Lincoln and lifted the feeling of despair that had fastened itself upon him. He tried to think of some way that he could devise that would enable him to talk with her privately. He knew how she must feel about her aunt’s greeting and of Kit’s air of possession so clearly shown toward him. He longed to reassure her. But she seemed greatly interested in what Miller was saying to her. He turned back to Kit Bandon.
“You were expecting someone to meet you in the lobby?” he inquired in a casual tone.
“Yes. I had an appointment — about a deal for cattle,” she returned, evasively.
“Y
our herd will be in tomorrow, I hear,” continued the Nebraskan.
“How do you know that?” asked Kit, obviously surprised.
“I rode out to your ranch day before yesterday. Your Mormon riders were about ready to start the drive.”
“You saw them — talked with them?”
“Surely. They interested me. Luke Mathews particularly.”
“You interest yourself a good deal in other people’s business?” she retorted, in a tone she had never before used with him. This information, his apparently casual speech, his inscrutability, and perhaps something that she felt lay behind his words seemed to perturb her a good deal. Quickly she tried to conceal her perturbation behind a gay laugh. But even so, Lincoln felt a chill. It was not dissimilar to one he had felt many times at the thought of death — at the imminence of death. How strange that this beautiful willful woman, all glamour and fire, should arouse such a feeling of foreboding in him.
The serving of dinner interrupted conversation. It was an excellent meal for a hotel in a border town. Bradway did not know good wine from bad, but he partook scantily of the champagne. Miller and Kit were not so chary. Lincoln watched Lucy as she hesitatingly touched her lips to her glass. It was evident that she was not accustomed to much drinking. Their eyes met over their glasses, and she made a slight move of distaste. Linc swore anew to himself that if his life were spared during this hard task imposed upon him he would devote the remainder of it to this sweet girl’s happiness, if she would let him.
The champagne, apparently, had cheered Kit out of her distraught mood. She reached forward to pat Linc’s hand where it rested on the table just as a bellboy brought her a note. He watched her read it, and saw her brow become clouded.
“Hank, our — my party is waiting outside,” she said. Then she spoke to Bradway. “Linc, we must leave you for a little while. I’m sorry, but it’s important. Where will you wait?”