by Zane Grey
“Thanks, pard,” said Brazos, and went on as before. “Doggone! Thet’s hot. I reckon thet cowboy risked his life an’ knew it. . . . They’re gonna try to shoot me in the back. Bodkin again!”
Brazos went in the first store and out the back way, where he proceeded along the alley to a side street from which he reached the corral where he had left his horse. The Mexican boy, Pedro, had fed and watered Bay. Brazos lost no time riding out of town. The conclusion he reached was that Bodkin had taken up with this Knight—that they were going to proceed on the lines Surface had developed—and that such operations were retarded because of the unwelcome existence of one Brazos Keene.
The approach of winter might have necessitated renewed activity on the part of cattle rustlers. Cattle had gone up in price to forty-three dollars on the hoof with increasing demand. Neece had seen this coming and he had bought wholesale, getting some small herds for as low as thirty dollars a head.
When Brazos arrived at Twin Sombreros he rode in with little thought of the distracting sisters and the gala supper and dance to be held that evening. As luck would have it June or Janis called gaily to him from the house, but Brazos only waved without stopping. He found a merry bustling crowd of cowboys working to enhance the autumn effect desired by the girls.
“Heah, one of yu rollickin’ gazabos,” he called. “Tell Neece an’ Bilyen I want them pronto.”
The rancher was the first to reach Brazos and he wore the warm smile he had acquired for this cowboy.
“Mornin’ son. You look pretty serious. Scared of bracin’ Dad after last night, eh?”
Brazos had to grin. No fear of this father’s censure or criticism! Neece was on his side.
“Scared as hell, Dad, now yu make me think of last night. But thet wasn’t on my mind atall.”
Hank Bilyen joined them at this juncture. “Mawnin’, Brazos,” said the Texas, his gray gaze studying Brazos’ face.
“Come heah,” returned Brazos, and drew the two aside.
“Aw, yu’re gonna bust up the party,” complained Hank, a sense of calamity evidently striking him.
“Ump-um. Not atall. I’ve got a tip, though. . . . Cattle gone to forty-three dollars. It’ll be forty-five in less’n a week, an’ goin’ up.”
“You don’t say!” ejaculated the rancher, eagerly. “Hank, my hunch was correct.”
“Wal, I was holdin’ at forty for this fall. But forty-five! Say, Neece, we’re settin’ with a powerful good hand.”
“How many haid can yu drive in an’ ship pronto, inside the week?” queried Brazos, thoughtfully.
“Close to twenty thousand if the railroad can handle them,” replied Neece, promptly.
“I saw hundreds of empty stock cars as I rode oot. Neece, yu can beat the other cattlemen to it, an’ save, I reckon, half thet twenty thousand—if yu rush the ootfit.”
“Save! What yu mean, cowboy?” asked Bilyen, darkly suspicious of his young friend.
“Wal, there’s a lull in rustlin’ just now, but it won’t last long onless this ootfit Surface left behind gets ripped up the back. Neece, it’d be a good bet to sell all the railroad can handle.”
“I’ll grab it pronto, Brazos, thanks to you.”
“How aboot Henderson an’ Sisk? Can they grab it pronto, too?”
“No. Henderson’s stock is scattered all over the range. Sisk’s is on his ranch forty miles out. Rough country. It’d take a month to round up a big bunch.”
“Too late for the top price—an’ too late to beat the rustlers.”
“Hank, I tried to get Sisk an’ Henderson to see this very thing—that is, the price of beef goin’ up. I didn’t figure on rustlers. . . . Brazos, how can they get away with any large numbers of cattle?”
“Wal, it does seem outlandish, with law an’ order in Las Animas,” rejoined Brazos, with a grim laugh. “Boss, ten hard-ridin’ rustlers can move a heap of stock. None of thet stock would come heah. They’d shove it along the line, an’ have it shipped the day it got to the railroad, long before the owners found oot. Some of it would be throwed in with the shipment of cattlemen we reckon air crooked. Aw, it’s easy enough. Too damn easy!”
“I’ll go write telegrams to my buyers an’ order all the stock cars available. Hank, you can ride in with these at once,” said Neece, decisively, and hurried away.
“Come oot with it, darn yore pictoors,” demanded Hank, gruffly.
“Wal, it’s nothin’ new, but kinda worrisome, considerin’ the mix-up I’m in heah,” answered Brazos, and he gave Hank the information he had received from the strange cowboy in town.
The Texan swore mightily and to no purpose, which verbiage Brazos received in silence.
“I knowed somethin’ was in the wind, else yu’d never advise Neece to sell stock so pronto. Doggone lucky for Neece! We can ship thet number of cattle before the price drops or a hoof of it can be rustled. . . . But what’n the hell air yu gonna do?”
“Me? Aw, I better lay low.”
“Bodkin!—his yellow gizzard! All Bodkin! Brazos, do yu reckon thet hombre knows yu can’t kill him?”
“He’s just aboot smart enough to figure it,” admitted Brazos.
“Who ever heahed of such a—muss!” growled Hank. “If this was only Texas!”
“But it’s not Texas. It’s Colorado, where they got law an’ order,” declared Brazos, bitterly.
“Where’s layin’ low gonna get yu, cowboy?”
“I don’t know. It’s all I can think of.”
“They’d reckon yu was scared an’ rustle the hair off this range.”
“Shore. But they’d hang themselves sooner or later. Las Animas won’t stand it forever.”
“No, I reckon not. All the same they’re daid slow.”
“Slow? Say, Texas, they’re not alive. The trouble is each cattleman heah suspects his neighbor. Yu know, Hank, thet kind of deal is hard to handle. It just might last until this range has seen its best days.”
“Nope, it won’t, ’cause the haids of this combine, Bodkin an’ Knight, Miller mebbe, whoever they air, don’t stock up enough gray matter.”
“Hank, I just oughta ride away,” said Brazos, tragically.
“Shore. Thet old dodge of yores would fit in heah,” rejoined Bilyen, with sarcasm that made Brazos flinch.
“Only I cain’t”
“An’ why cain’t yu?”
“It’s not humanly possible for me to leave this girl.”
“Brazos, I’d be damned if I would, either.”
“If only June would run off with me! . . . We could come back after these hombres peter oot.”
“June? Say, cowboy, we reckoned it was Janis.”
“We? Who’n hell air we?” jerked out Brazos, with a start.
“Why, me, an’ Neese—an’ some of the boys. Leastways Jack.”
“Jack Sain? The two-faced son of a gun! He’s crazy aboot June himself. Thet’s why he—”
“Jack is honest,” interposed Bilyen. “An’ Neece reckons yu’re sweetest on Janis.”
“Neece? Aw, my Gawd!” ejaculated Brazos, throwing up his hands.
“Cowboy, ain’t yu kinda mixed up yoreself aboot which one of the twins yu’re daid set on?”
“Mixed up? I’m standin’ on my haid right this heah minute. . . . Hank, I love June, honest an’ true—but—aw! it’s orful. . . . I cain’t tell her from Jan.”
The Texan laughed so hard that Brazos wanted to punch him. “Haw! Haw! Haw! . . . doggone—me,” he choked, trying to talk. “Yu’re not in any mix-up. Oh—no! . . . Yu reckon it’s June, but yu cain’t tell her from Jan! . . . One’s the same as the other. . . . Thet settles yore hash, Brazos Keene.”
“Hank, I could get mad at yu—yu—ole muddlehaid,” declared Brazos, red in the face. “Now what’n hell do yu mean by thet last crack? Yu saw me kiss June last night.”
“Shore Brazos, but thet only proved yu’re in love with them both.”
“Yu’re a damn liar.”
“An’
yu’re plumb lucky,” returned Bilyen, curtly. “There’s safety in numbers. Yu been playin’ fast an’ loose with two fine girls. Don’t forgit yu’re from Texas.”
“Wal, I’ll be dod-blasted,” muttered Brazos, as his friend strode away, plainly offended. “What the devil did he mean by lucky—an’ safety in numbers?”
Brazos sat there trying to puzzle it out, but the more he thought the deeper in he got until he grew hopelessly bewildered. Presently Bilyen reappeared leading his horse.
“Doggone it, Brazos, I cain’t be mad at yu,” he complained.
“Wal, I can be at yu, old-timer, an’ don’t yu overlook thet.”
“Have yu got anythin’ in town yu want fetched oot?” queried Hank, ignoring Brazos’ rudeness.
“Yes. Go to Mexican Joe’s an’ pack my ootfit. An’ don’t yu muss thet new gray suit thet I got to wear to the dance.”
“So yu’re gonna be there,” said Hank, pretending surprise.
“I should smile I am. . . . Hey, who yu wavin’ to?”
“Heah come June an’ Jan,” observed Bilyen. “Air they lookin’ for one Brazos Keene? They air! . . . Gosh, look at them! Two sweeter, purtier, nicer, finer, gooder girls never before graced this range. . . . Brazos, I’d be only too glad to be in yore boots.”
“Yes, yu would, yu brute! . . . Where air they? I’m gonna slope,”
“They see yu. Take yore medicine, Brazos.”
“Fork thet hawse, yu grinnin’ ape,” yelled Brazos, and then, at the sight of the twins, he sank back with a groan. “Aw! Was there ever such a miserable cuss as Brazos Keene? . . . But this is never gonna do. I gotta make a bluff as big as Pikes Peak, or bust.”
He assumed a lolling lazy pose, and leisurely began to roll a cigarette, well and tinglingly aware when the girls stopped before him.
“Mawnin’, Brazos,” mimicked one.
“Air yu heah again?” mimicked the other.
Brazos slid off his sombrero, and sprang erect, his old cool smiling courteous self.
“Good mawnin’, twins,” he drawled. “I shore am glad to see yu-all this mawnin’.”
They stood hand in hand before Brazos, demure and arch, shy and provocative, dressed exactly alike as always and looking hopelessly more alike than ever, surely the sweetest pair that had ever distracted a poor cowboy. Brazos viewed them with a grim smile, vainly searching for some tiny bit of distinctive apparel on one different from the other’s, waiting vainly for a wink or sly glance that would proclaim one to be his sweetheart, June.
“Come, Brazos.”
“You’re going to help us.”
“Shore, if yu stay together,” said Brazos, doggedly. “But I’m not gonna ever be alone with one of yu again.”
Laughing merrily they separated and one at each arm they led him across the grassy plot to the barn.
The rest of that day flew as if by magic. Late afternoon found all available ground space at Twin Sombreros Ranch occupied by saddle horses, and vehicles from fine buckboards to muddy-wheeled wagons.
Two hours before sunset the girls had run off to dress and Brazos had had all that time to satisfy himself with his appearance. But he just could not arrive at that. All the same he had a sneaking idea that he had never looked better. The new gray coat seemed better buttoned, which was very desirable, as it hid his gun belt and all but the extreme tip of his gun sheath. His feet, in the new low shoes, felt as light as feathers, only Brazos imagined they looked too small for a hard-riding cowboy. Lastly he put a wildflower in his coat and strode forth to do or die.
Brazos ran into Jack Sain, slim, dark-garbed, shining of face.
“Hello, Brazos. Have you forgotten anything?”
“Gosh, I reckon my haid,” replied Brazos, but he clapped his hand to his hip to feel if his gun was there.
“It’s time for us to light the pine cones. Henry an’ his gang have to take care of the fires. We get off easy. . . . Gee, what a night! Brazos! Look at the moon, peepin’ over the mountains. . . . The orchestra is here. From Denver! Think of that, cowboy. An’ the dancin’ begins at eight sharp.”
“Wal, it ought to be aboot thet now,” drawled Brazos, affecting a calm he did not feel.
They lit the rustic pine-cone lanterns up and down the lane leading from the barn to the ranch house; then the oil lanterns in the colorful barn and the big locomotive lamp that had been fastened high on a post. The huge bonfires added to the cheerful night scene. And the moon soared above the black range, full and white and radiant. Then the crowd of girls, some in white, and most in bright hues that matched the autumn leaves, flocked down the lane with gay voices and merry laughter, to meet the eager young men waiting at the barn. Last came the older folk, less brilliantly garbed, but quite as merry and as happy. Voice and mirth of all were drowned in a burst of rhythmic music.
Brazos was surrounded by the glad throng, although none appeared to notice him, and he drew to one side, with a feeling of detachment. He was beginning to lose something of the thrill and uncommon pleasure that possessed him, when a soft little hand slipped inside his. Brazos turned to find a vision in white beside him, with lovely face uplifted to his and dark eyes the dullest of men could have read aright.
“It’s June,” she said, simply. “How do you like my New York gown?”
“Girl—I never knew yu were so beautiful,” replied Brazos, rapturously.
“Cowboy, you look stunning yourself. Jan, the old hawk, saw you first. She was making for you when Henry grabbed her.” All at once he felt her other hand moving lightly down his coat on the right side, to stop on the hump that was his gun. “Brazos, you would pack a gun at my party,” she concluded, reproachfully.
“Darlin’, I cain’t go withoot it,” explained Brazos, poignantly. “Only last night I heahed there were men lookin’ for me.”
“Oh, how terrible to be in love with a desperado!” she exclaimed, her warm cheeks blanching.
“June! Thet hurts.”
“But how terribly more sweet to be in love with a handsome cowboy whose very name makes girls’ hearts beat fast!” she added quickly, voice and look making amends. “Come. This first dance is yours. I chose a long waltz, because you told me you liked waltzing.”
They had whirled scarcely more than a quarter way round the big barn when June looked up to whisper: “You said you were a clodhopper on your feet.”
“Wal, I am—in my boots.”
“Brazos, you can dance . . . but you hold me a little too tight—for public—”
“Aw, I don’t know whether I’m dancin’ or ridin’ or sailin’. . . . An’ June, if I didn’t hold yu like this—I’d not know I had yu in my arms—yu’re so like a fairy.”
“Don’t talk—flatterer!”
They danced on and Brazos thought that he was indeed sailing around an enchanted glade in the autumn woods. Yet he preserved his equilibrium enough to lead her through the whirling throng of dancers. But toward the end the sense of rhythmic creamy movement, the murmuring voices of girls, the bright dresses, the scarlet flare of autumn leaves, and the entrancing feel of June so soft against his breast—these went to Brazos’ head like wine.
“Brazos—you’re hugging—me,” June whispered, pantingly.
“Am I? . . . Doggone! I hadn’t noticed it,” he drawled, loosing his hold ever so little.
“Everybody—else—has.”
“June, if my eyes air not pore, they’re all doin’ the same.”
“Jan saw. She looked—daggers at me.”
“Wal, don’t yu look. . . . Aw, it’s over! How could thet happen? . . . June, I reckon I never had so wonderful a dance.”
“Not even at that famous dance of Holly Ripple’s—with her?”
“Wal, thet was wonderful, too. But not like this one with yu. Yu see, Holly wasn’t my sweetheart.”
“I don’t see. I should have thought she’d be mad about you. . . . Brazos, do you want to please me?”
“More than anyone.”
“Make
yourself agreeable to the girls who haven’t beaux, and some of the older women. You can be so nice! It’s a chance. It’ll make them like you—and help our party to success. Will you, Brazos?”
“Goodness only knows how I can, but I’ll manage. But how about Janis?”
“Jan will have three partners for every dance. But you must get a part of one, at least. She’d blame me if you didn’t.”
“I’ll bet I cain’t get within a mile of her . . . or yu, either, after this. Look at these buckaroos pilin’ over each other to get at yu!”
“Brazos, I’ll hunt you up,” she flashed, and was whirled away.
Glowing and eager, with all his doubt fled, Brazos turned to the duty imposed upon him. He gave himself such an impetus that he found real pleasure in dancing with an unattractive girl no longer young. Thus launched, Brazos bent all his effort to helping make the party of the Neece twins a success. Now and then, when a moment offered, he would stop to gaze among the circle of dancers, who grew gayer as the evening wore on, to pick out the lovely flushed face that flashed like a flower and then was gone. Once out of that same face, or its counterpart, he met dark reproachful seductive eyes, and he drew up with a sharp breath. They must have belonged to Janis. That fleeting glimpse was the first Brazos had had of her. He did not look again after that incident.
The hours fled like the dances; the pine cones burned out; the big bonfires were replenished; many of the young men and some of the girls went often to the great bowl of punch that Neece had ordered must be kept full; and the moon climbed high to burn white in the blue dome above.
At midnight supper was served for the younger folk on the wide porch, and in the long sitting room of the ranch house for the elders. Brazos ate his food standing, as many thousands of times he had done beside a chuck wagon on the Old Trail.
Soon the dancers flocked back to the barn, lured by the strains of music. Brazos watched them from the porch, a little wistfully, wondering when June would hunt him up. Then a white hand slipped under his arm.
“Come, cowboy,” called a challenging voice.
“Aw, heah yu air!” cried Brazos.
“Quick. They’re after me. Run!” she said, with a giggle, and led him into the pines instead of down the lane. In a moment they were out of sight of the ranch house, the lights, and in another almost out of hearing of the merry hum.