Twin Sombreros

by Zane Grey

  “Did yu savvy thet damn greaser?” growled Brazos.

  “Shore. Joe reckons yu’ll find oot pronto who’s lookin’ for yu. Nobody seems to know.”

  “Did Bodkin get put in as sheriff?”

  “Not yet. The Cattlemen’s Association split. Henderson an’ Surface had a hell of a row. Henderson resigned.”

  “Ahuh. Henderson? I reckoned thet night when I busted up the meetin’ he was gettin’ leary.”

  “Brazos, he shore had reason. Not long after thet row Henderson lost a thousand haid of steers an’ his best hawses. The two cowboys on guard were shot. An’ the rest of the ootfit didn’t know till mornin’.”

  “Hell yu say!” ejaculated Brazos. “Pretty bold an’ raw. it’s gettin’ hot, Hank.”

  “Kinda queer, don’t you reckon, right after thet row with Surface?”

  “I’d say so—if anyone but Surface is responsible. He might be smart enough to see thet very thing.”

  “Wal, damn if I see it,” rejoined Hank stoutly. “You’re onsartin’ then of Surface’s guilt?”

  “Hell no! An’ thet’s what’s eatin’ me. I’m shore aboot Surface, but cain’t prove it.”

  “Boy, you cain’t get proof in a minnit.”

  “Yu can stop a bullet, though. Hank, if there is any ootfit lookin’ for me they’ll know me an’ I won’t know them. Too many odds! I cain’t stack against thet. I swear if it was any other kind of a deal—if it wasn’t for the twins an’ Neece—I’d pull leather for Texas.”

  “Not to be thought of.”

  “I’m gettin’ sore. An’ thet’s good. It’ll do what a bottle of red likker used to do. . . . Wal, what’d yu find oot?”

  “Nary a thing. I took train to Hebron an’ talked with the railroad men there. Got no satisfaction. They’d shipped cattle train after cattle train east. An’ one bunch was no different from another. ‘It’s no mix of ours if some of them cattle was rustled,’ said the station agent. Billy the Kid’s ootfit is sellin’ cattle to the beef buyers for the Indian reservations. Nobody talkin’.”

  Brazos had no more to say until he and Hank met Neece at the cabin. It pleased Brazos to see that Neece was a changed man. He had pulled out of hopelessness. He had gained.

  “Wal, Neece, I’ve news thet I shore hope yu’ll find somethin’ in,” began Brazos. “My job at Kansas City, yu know, was to get track of the cattle people Surface ships to. I couldn’t find oot. This may have been regular an’ then again it may have been queer. Thet fact alone is queer. Their interest is in buyin’ an’ sellin’ beef an’ not in where it comes from. A big per cent of cattle herds shipped there is shore rustled. An’ nobody’s tellin’. But I spent three days loafin’ aboot the stockyards, an’ I found oot from the yardmen aboot two big trainloads of longhorns thet was shipped in early spring. Longhorns an’ mixed brands, from New Mexico. One trainload went into the stockyards an’ was drove oot of there in small bunches. The other trainload went east. Yu cain’t track unbranded cattle any more’ n yu can cattle wearin’ brands yu don’t know. Shore them big trains carried yore herd. An’ thet herd just faded. . . . Wal, on the way back I stopped over at Abilene. I was plumb nervous aboot it as aboot seven years ago I shot up thet burg. But shucks, everybody I ever knew was long daid. Funny how shortlived we Westerners air! Abilene has growed some an’ it was still pretty hot. I mixed with cowboys, cattlemen, gamblers an’ town folks. Naturally, yu know yu never get anywhere askin’ one Westerner aboot another. But I finally met a cowboy who once rode for Surface. He was not my kind an’ he was mum as an oyster. Then I met a cattleman who spit fire when I asked aboot Surface. What I got oot of him might have pertained to any rancher. It ’peared this cattleman was kin to one who had been a pardner of Surface. . . . Heah, I have the names. Stokes, the pardner was. Wal, Stokes an’ Surface operated big in cattle. Surface bought an’ Stokes sold. One day they quarreled an’ Surface shot Stokes. Nobody saw the fight. Surface claimed Stokes drew first. Some people said the trouble was over money, an’ some said Stokes had been heahed to question Surface aboot where he got his cattle. Anyway Surface left Abilene. Thet was over a year ago. An’ thet’s aboot all.”

  “I reckon it’s significant,” declared Neece, soberly.

  “My idee is it strengthens our case,” added Bilyen.

  “Wal, I agree,” said Brazos. “But what we air convinced of might not be worth a whoop in court. Surface has money an’ influence. He’d beat us. An’ we don’t want any court decision against us. This deal will never go before a Denver court.”

  “You are daid right, Brazos,” returned Bilyen.

  “Yes, an’ what I want is to get Surface daid to rights. Let me get thet in my own way. All the same I won’t overlook the littlest hunch yu can give me. Anythin’ could be a hunch.”

  “Lura Surface has left Twin Sombreros, so I heah,” put in Hank. “She’s stayin’ with a friend, Delia Ross. An’ lettin’ thet gambler Howard run around with her.”

  “Yu don’t say? Wal!”

  “Brazos, did Hank tell you Henderson called on me?” queried Neece. “Well, he did. An’ though he didn’t mention Surface I took it as an expression of regret an’ sympathy. Henderson is head of the bank that wouldn’t lend me the money to save my ranch.”

  “Ahuh. Wal, thet is a hunch. Rustle my hawse, Hank. I’m ridin’ to town.”

  Henderson received Brazos with a veiled surprise not unmixed with interest.

  “I called to ask a couple of questions, Mr. Henderson, an’ maybe one is in the nature of a favor,” said Brazos, frankly.

  “Well, shoot, cowboy,” replied the banker, with an encouraging smile.

  “Do yu know Jack Sain?”

  “By sight, only.”

  “Could yu give him a job ridin’? From all I heahed since I came back yu need some riders. I’ll stand for Jack.”

  “Very well. That is recommendation enough. Send him in.”

  “Thet’s fine of yu, Mr. Henderson. Jack’s down in the mouth, he’s had such bad luck. He took the Neeces’ trouble to heart. . . . My other question is kinda personal an’ I hope yu excuse it.”

  “What is it, Keene?”

  “Air yu for or against Raine Surface?” asked Brazos, deliberately.

  “Is that any business of yours?”

  “Not onless yu make it mine. But I’m against him. I’m on Abe Neece’s side in this deal.”

  “Keene! So that is what Inskip meant?”

  “Mr. Henderson, yu know me an’ I make bold enough to think yu have confidence in me. If Cap Britt was heah in yore place he’d put me on this job.”

  “What job?”

  “Why, yu’re a Westerner, Mr. Henderson.”

  “Yes. And you’re a clever cowboy, Keene. . . . Did you know that Raine Surface killed a cattleman named Stokes for insinuating things?”

  “Shore, I heahed thet.”

  “Keene, I won’t say anything. But you can make your own conclusions.”

  “Will yu respect my confidence?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Wal, I reckon Raine Surface is another Sewall McCoy.”

  “Aha! That was behind your little address to the Cattlemen’s Association some weeks ago? Inskip told me that very thing.”

  “Yes, it was an’ is.”

  “Ticklish business, even for a Brazos Keene. Surface has many interests, riders galore, and according to range gossip a tough outfit somewhere up in the hills.”

  “All powerful interestin’ to me, Mr. Henderson. If Surface didn’t have them, he wouldn’t class with Sewall McCoy. At thet I reckon McCoy had what Surface doesn’t show to me. An’ thet’s brains. McCoy lasted for years in New Mexico. An’ if it hadn’t been for my suspicion aboot a cowboy rider in my ootfit, why McCoy might be playin’ a high hand yet. But Surface won’t last the month oot. He just doesn’t savvy us.”

  “Us? And who are us?” queried Henderson, tersely.

  “Wal, Kiskadden an’ Inskip an’ Neece an’ Bilyen an’ me—an
’ yu, Mr. Henderson,” drawled Brazos. “I’m obliged to yu for seein’ me an’ more especial for yore bolsterin’ up of my hunch aboot Surface.”

  “See here, Keene, I didn’t say—I didn’t intimate—” stammered the banker-cattleman, much perturbed.

  “All I needed was to talk to yu a little. I know what yu think. But yu didn’t tell me an’ yu can rest safe in thet assurance. Keep oot of Surface’s way. He might try to bore yu to strengthen his stand.”

  Brazos strode out of the bank, glad to be in the open air, where he wanted to swoop and swear. But all he did do was to stand with apparent carelessness watching the passers-by. Presently he turned the corner, down the side street and went around to Mexican Joe’s. From the little window of his room upstairs he bent a keen and penetrating eye upon the men on the street.

  Henderson knew Surface was crooked and yet he dared not betray him. That was one of the strange angles peculiar to the West. He swallowed his loss and waited for some one else to risk calling the cattle baron a rustler. Brazos’ original hunch, almost at sight of Surface, had been true as a compass needle pointed to the north. Raine Surface was a thief, a leader of rustlers, a counterfeit rancher, an instigator of murder if not actually a murderer, an ingratiating man of important affairs and movements, a man who would show yellow in the face of death, He was not a master rustler. For that matter neither had been Sewall McCoy. But Russ Slaughter had been as game and desperate as the frontier bred them. He had to be shot full of holes before a rope had twanged around his neck.

  “Wal, I’ve got the cairds an’ I can shore play them,” soliloquized Brazos, as broodingly he watched the passers-by and grew dark in the mood that held him aloof. “All I gotta do is lay for some of these hombres who’re oot to cash me in. . . . An’ Bodkin is one of them. . . . An’ thet trio of hombres includin’ the cowgirl with the little feet. . . . An’ maybe some others I gotta savvy. . . . An’ by Gawd, I’ll bore some of them—an’ cripple one who’ll squeal. . . . Failin’ all thet I’ll corner Surface himself—make him crawl or kill him!”

  It was a harsh decision, but relentlessly welcome. And Brazos now had something more authentic to justify his personal suspicion—the moral backing of a man whose loss at Surface’s hands had not rendered him unsound.

  Brazos stayed by that little window all afternoon until dusk. Of the many strangers he watched there were a few to whom he would ever turn his back.

  When Brazos ventured forth again he felt that he had eyes in the back of his head—that he could see through doors and walls—into the very brains where skulked the villainous purposes to his undoing.

  When he entered the restaurant he chose a seat where he could watch the door.

  “Wal, air yu shore yu’re Janis?” he asked, in dubious admiration, as he looked up into the pretty face above him.

  “Brazos, why do you want to make so sure I am Janis?” she asked.

  “I don’t want to offend June,” he replied, truthfully, not dreaming of the interpretation the girl might put upon that. The quick brightening flash of her did not alarm him.

  “Have you offended her?”

  “I shore have,” admitted Brazos, remorsefully.

  “Brazos, you went away without collecting something I owed you,” she said, with subtle charm.

  “Aw Janis, I was only foolin’.”

  “You shouldn’t fool with two girls, Brazos Keene.”

  While she went to fetch his supper Brazos pondered that satiric statement. He failed to find anything of January in Janis Neece. She seemed warm, responsive, not in the least shy like June, and altogether alluring and provocative. All at once Brazos saw her in the same light wherein he saw June, which was to admit that they were as like as two peas. What was the matter with this Janis Neece? Did she not know that he was in love with June? It was most disturbingly sweet to see and hear Janis as she had been then. What a quandary to be in! To feel the same tumultuous wave go over him for either when the other charmer was absent! Brazos vowed he would dare an understanding with June, or if that did not seem politic, to postpone his courting until the grave issue with Surface and his minions had been settled. And the next moment Brazos cursed himself for a sentimental fool, realizing that even with death on his trail he could no more stop making love to June Neece than he could stop breathing. He might, however, be able to stay away from the restaurant, which course would enable him to give all his thought and nerve to the purpose he had set himself.

  That night after supper Brazos began his stalk, as stealthily as if he were deer hunting, though with the wary intensity which accompanied the blood pursuit of man.

  He kept to the shadow close to the sides of the buildings and he proceeded slowly. He was seen, but never by any pedestrian or lounger whom he had not seen first. One of Brazos’ uncanny faculties—that which had always been a part of any gunman who survived long—was to sense in any person the mood which now gripped him. Wherever possible, Brazos had a long look into a saloon before he entered. When he went in, it was with sudden stride, to stand facing the whole assembly, with a keen and menacing front. On these occasions there were indeed few occupants whom he did not see. And always, after a few moments, when the significance of his stand had permeated to the farthest corner, he would back out. This bold maneuver had its telling effect. It made the crowd aware Brazos Keene was on the rampage, all the more dangerous because he was sober. It told his enemies, if any were present, that it was not possible to shoot him in the back, that a false move on the part of any man would precipitate a flashing gunplay, that he was ready for an even break. This procedure was a wall of advantage for any gunman. Buck Duane, King Fisher, Wild Bill—most of the celebrated gunmen lived and dominated by that sole act of defiant hardihood. Billy the Kid, youthful desperado of the period, walked coolly before a crowd of men all itching to kill him; and he lived to be assassinated by a sheriff who feared to meet him in the open. The secret of this strength lay in its strange effect upon men who revered nerve above all else in an opponent—upon the obvious fact that the first who attempted to draw upon the gunman would almost certainly perish for his brazen pains.

  Brazos left that impression behind him in all the saloons and gambling dens of Las Animas. He left more—an intense curiosity as to whom he was so boldly seeking. Those who had seen him had not the least idea that Brazos himself did not know. He guessed they would whisper the names of Bodkin, Barsh, possibly Surface, though hardly the last named, for the rancher did not frequent these disreputable halls. Lastly, the act itself affected Brazos deeply, almost equivalently to the stimulus of hard liquor, from which fire and violence of spirit he would not recover until this bloody business had run its course.

  Contrary to Brazos’ earlier consideration of what he thought he had better do, he presented himself at the door of the Neeces’ apartment over the restaurant and knocked solidly. The door opened quickly, to disclose one of the twins in a dressing gown, most bewitching in the dim lamplight.

  “Sorry—but I gotta see June,” announced Brazos, with a deep breath.

  “Come in. I’ve been waiting. I knew you’d come. Janis and Auntie have gone to bed,” she replied, in a low voice a little hurried.

  Brazos strode in with his clinking tread and dropped his sombrero on the floor. Almost, the sweetness of June’s presence, the intimacy she granted, burned away that dark mood. He flinched at a thought of his brazenness—at his stubborn need to end misunderstanding. But a second thought reassured Brazos. It was only fair to him that she should hear his honest intentions. He might not be able to come back again.

  June stood before him, turning up the lamp ever so little. She looked at him with dark wide eyes.

  “Had I not better run to my room and slip on a dress? I’m quite—quite—”

  “Quite distractin’—an’ thet’s what I need,” he interrupted her gloomily.

  “Brazos!” She came close to catch the lapels of his coat and look up anxiously. “What has happened? I never saw you look
like this.”

  “Nothin’ happened yet, June. But it’s gonna happen—an’ pronto. There air men in town—I don’t know how many—come to kill me. An’ I just been goin’ the rounds to let them see I won’t be so easy to kill.”

  Flattered by her anxiety, Brazos had reacted to the desire to carry it still farther. Though his statement was not in the least exaggerated, it was yet one he would not have made except under the stimulus of those troubled eyes.

  “Oh, mercy! I feared—this,” whispered June, unsteadily, and leaned shaking against him.

  “June, I reckoned yu’d better heah it from me,” he said, earnestly. “‘Cause no matter if I am Brazos Keene—somethin’ might happen. But I’ve been in a heap tighter place—to come oot safe. An’ so it’ll be this time.”

  “And it’s all because you want to help us,” she said, eloquently.

  “Never mind thet,” he rejoined hastily. “June, it’s shore hard to say the rest. My chest’s cavin’ in. . . . Yu remember the night I left for Kansas City—how I was mad enough to take them—them two kisses yu was mad enough to say yu owed me?”

  “I’ll never forget, Brazos!”

  “Wal, I was so scairt thet I ran off withoot declarin’ myself. An’ it’s kinda haunted me since. . . . June, I cain’t have yu misunderstandin’ me. It wasn’t thet I was askin’ anythin’ of yu then. I just couldn’t go withoot them kisses. . . . An’ the reason is yu—I—I—Aw! I love yu turrible, June. Thet’s all. . . . An’ if I come oot of this mess alive I’ll shore ask yu to marry me. . . . Somethin’ I’d better ask now—’cause when yu go home to live at Twin Sombreros an’ be an heiress—why I just couldn’t have the nerve.”

  She lifted her face flushed and radiant. “Brazos,” she whispered shyly, “I’ve loved you from the very first minute you looked at me.”

  “Aw, June—thet cain’t be so!” he implored, and took her into his arms.

  “It is so,” she whispered, hiding her face on his shoulder. “It has nearly—driven me crazy. . . . I was afraid—I thought you—you loved Janis best.”