by Grey, Zane
Then the cowboy faced the ill-assorted group of men who had assembled there as Bodkin's guests. They stood as if petrified.
"Henderson, yu're in bad company," rang out Brazos, "an' no matter what yore excuse, it'll be remembered in Las Animas. Miller, I'm brandin' yu as hand an' glove with this Surface ootfit. Yu businessmen an' yu strangers all know Bodkin now for what he was. An' I reckon thet'll be aboot all for Brazos Keene in Colorado."
Chapter 13
He rode away at dawn as the sun was reddening the grey landscape, without ever once looking back, as he had done so often in his tumultuous life.
His heading for the south, however, towards Texas, had an air of finality. Thirst for adventure and even for romance had been effectually killed. As Brazos took to the well-worn cattle trail, he felt sick and old and unhappy.
He came at length to Doan's Crossing, one of the famous old posts of the frontier.
Doan's Crossing had grown to be a settlement. The huge rambling trading-post appeared the same as the picture in his memory. But it fronted on the corner of a wide street that stretched far between grey flat houses and red-walled buildings.
"Wal, doggone me!" ejaculated, Brazos mildly. "Tom Doan has shore thrown up a metropolis."
As he slid wearily out of his saddle a lanky young Texan met him with a keen gaze.
"Howdy, rider. Air you stayin' over?"
"Howdy, young feller. I reckon my hawss is lame. Will you put him up and look after him?"
"Yu bet," replied the lad.
"Tom Doan heah yet?"
"Shore, Tom's heah, big as life. Mister, there's Doan comin' now."
Brazos's glance lighted upon a tall Texan approaching. Same old Tom Doan! Brazos could have picked him out of a hundred Texans, though they all were sandy-haired, sallow-faced, with slits of grey fire for eyes.
"Howdy, stranger. Git down an' come in," was the greeting. "Haven't I seen you before?"
"Tom, I reckon I'm starved and thin and black with this heah dust and beard. But it's a downright insult for you not to know me," drawled Brazos.
Doan straightened up from his close scrutiny and broke into a broad smile.
"Wal, talk of the devil an' heah he is! Brazos Keene!"
"Yep, it's Keene all right. And how air you. Tom?"
The warm smile, the hard grip, and the hand on his shoulder thrilled some of the weariness out of Brazos.
"I reckon I'm downright glad to see yu, Tom," he responded hoarsely.
"Say, yu're spittin' cotton. Come in, boy, an' hev a drink."
"Wal, I need one, Tom. But not red likker."
Doan led Brazos through a lane of curious riders into the post. The huge interior, its adobe walls decorated with Indian ornaments, the coloured blankets and utensils hanging from the rafters, the counters laden with merchandise, and especially the great open fireplace at the end--all these appeared just the same as if he had seen them yesterday. But there was a wide door that Brazos did not remember. It led in to a saloon full of smoke and noise.
"Tom, what the hell has come off about heah?" asked Brazos, after he had quenched his thirst.
"Brazos, we've growed up. Doan's Crossing is a town."
"Hell, Tom, I ain't blind. But how come? There never was nothin' heah. Wal, nothin' but buffalo, Injuns, and trail-herd rustlers."
Doan laughed. "So we used to think, cowboy. But we was blind. There's rich land heah. Lots of farms, ranches. We've got a growin' town. A dozen stores an' more, too many saloons, a school an' a church an' a doctor. I've added a hotel to my post. Two stages a week, herds still trailin' north, travel heavy. Aw, Doan's Crossing is boomin'."
"Wal, doggone! I'm shore glad."
"Brazos, where yu headin'?"
"West of the Pecos," replied Keene ponderingly, his gaze averted.
"Aw! Don't tell me yu are on the dodge, Brazos?"
"Not atall. Tom, I want a room and hot water. Last time I was heah I slept on the counter oot there. Recollect thet?"
"I shore do. An' you didn't need no bath, 'cause yu an' Herb Ellerslie got piled off in the river."
"Gosh, Tom, yu do remember heaps. What become of Herb Ellerslie?"
"Shot, Brazos. Shot at Dodge by a gambler named Cardigan?'
"Aw, no! I'm sorry. Cardigan? I'll remember thet name. How aboot Wess Tanner?"
"Jest fine. Come to think of it, Wess will be along any day now."
"Wouldn't I like to see Wess!" ejaculated Brazos dreamily, following his host out of the saloon.
Doan halted at the end of a corridor, which opened into a green and flowery patio. He was ushered into a room that spoke eloquently of the advance Doan's Crossing had made toward civilisation.
"Doggone! Tom, this heah is mighty stylish for me. Wonder if I can sleep in thet bed."
"Wal, you look like you needed to," replied Doan with a laugh. "I'll send some hot water. You got about a half hour before supper."
Brazos laid off his sombrero, his gun, spurs, and chaps. Then he opened his saddlebags to take out his last clean shirt scarf and socks, and also his shaving outfit.
"Heigho!" he sighed, and sat down on the bed. "Doan's Crossing--Jesse Chisholm's Trail--and I'm a broken old man!"
That night, tired as he was, Brazos could not sleep. The bed felt too soft, too comfortable. He lay awake, thinking. And June and Jan Neece filled his mind.
In the dead of night in the blackness of this room, hundreds of miles from the scene of his downfall, he at last saw, clearly. All the time, it had been June, and June alone. He had worshipped her, and worshipped her still. June had uplifted and inspired him, called so deeply and poignantly to the finer side of him that he had never known really existed. He had thought of June as a girl to work for, to change his nature, to make a home for him and be the mother of his children. All dream! But he saw through it clearly now.
Sleep came very late to Brazos that night. He was awakened by a pounding on his door.
"Hey, Mister Keene, air yu daid?" called a voice Brazos recognised as belonging to the Texas lad.
"Mawnin', Tex. No, I ain't daid yet. What's the row aboot?"
"I been tryin' to wake you. The Dodge City stage rolled in--with an'--some old friends of yores rode in with it." The lad's voice betrayed excitement.
"Friends?" flashed Brazos, his blood quickening.
"Tanner an' some of his riders."
Brazos leaped out of bed. "Tell Wess I'll be there in a jiffy."
Brazos washed and dressed swiftly, buckled on his gun belt, and strode into the trading-post.
"Wess! you lean, hungry-lookin' old trail driver! My Gawd, I'm shore glad to see you!"
"Pard! You damned ole brown-skinned vaquero!" replied Tanner unsteadily, as he met that proffered hand. "Brazos--I never expected to see this day. An' am I happy?"
They clasped hands and locked glances. It was a meeting between tried and true Texans who had slept and fought and toiled together through unforgettable days:
"Brazos--meet my ootflt," said Tanner presently.
Brazos was introduced to the riders, most of them striplings. Obviously they were overcome at this meeting.
"Wal, Wess, I reckon you're ridin' back to Santone for the winter. No more trail drivin' this year?"
"Not till spring, Brazos. An' mebbe not then. Pard, I shore have the grandest ranch bargain there is in all Texas. If I can only raise the backin'."
"Same old Wess. Always dreamin' of thet grand ranch. I shore want to heah about it. And I'd kinda like to ride south with you, for a while. It's been lonely."
Tanner gave him a keen, kindly glance that baffled Brazos.
"Don't be hurt, pard. It ain't likely you'll want to ride with us. But I'd shore like thet--Brazos, come aside. I've news for yu. I'm scared stiff, yet--"
Wess led Brazos to a corner beside a window and faced him there hopefully yet apprehensively, with a pale face full of suppressed agitation that nonplussed Brazos.
Manifestly Wess laboured under some stress that ren
dered liberation extremely difficult. He lit a cigarette with visibly unsteady fingers and he swallowed, a lump in his throat.
"Hell, man!" exploded Brazos. "You didn't use to be so damn squeamish--You've heahed about thet little Las Animas mess."
"Shore, Brazos," agreed Wess, hurriedly. "Only it didn't seem little to me. Fact is--it was big--big as' Texas."
"Yeah? An' what of it?"
"Wal, for one thing Dodge City took it fine. The mayor hisself said to me, 'Wess, thet's the sheriff for Dodge when we need another!'"
"Hell he did? Kind of a compliment, at thet."
"Mebbe you shouldn't have rode away from Las Animas so quick."
"I reckon you think I should have got up a party and swelled around town," said Brazos sarcastically.
"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?"