West of the Pecos
Page 15
Terrill lay there on her face until she had recovered. The wonder of it was that she was not furious, not outraged, not frightened, not anything but blissfully happy. Presently when she arose to flee she took good care that he did not see her face. She ran to the cabin and hid; then it was that she learned Pecos’ mere presence no longer sufficed. Such a subterfuge as the tickling episode had been a shameless excuse to get her hands on him. In her heart, however, she knew she had not anticipated such a devastating response, and suddenly she found herself weeping violently.
Presently voices disturbed Terrill. She raised her head from a tear-wet pillow. Could Pecos have returned so early from that important task of corn-husking? She heard Sambo, then a strange voice, and finally Pecos. Terrill lost no time in getting to the living-room door.
Sambo was helping a rider off his horse. Evidently he was wounded or at least injured, for Terrill espied blood. She had seen the man somewhere, probably in Eagle’s Nest. He must be one of the cattlemen who shared the range. Sight of Pecos then startled Terrill more than had the stranger. It had come, then—war over cattle that Pecos expected.
“Yu bad hurt?” queried Pecos.
“I reckon not,” replied the man, rather weakly. “But I had to ride—bleedin’ like a stuck pig. … Guess it’s loss of blood.”
“Help him to the bench, Sambo,” directed Pecos. “Terrill, yu fetch some blankets, then yore dad’s kit. … Mauree, we’ll have to have water an’ clean rags.”
Terrill, having rushed to fulfill Pecos’ order, did not stay out on the porch to look on, but stepped inside and listened. Despite what the man said, she was afraid he would die. She leaned against the door, quaking. That might happen to Pecos any day. What a coward she was!
“Wal,” said Pecos, cheerfully, after a few moments, “yore pretty bloody for a gunshot no worse than thet. Shore there’s nothin’ else?”
“No.”
“Yu bled a heap an’ thet’s what put yu off yore pins. I’m glad to say yu’ll be all right in a few days. We’ll take care of yu heah.”
“Lucky I made it. Course I knowed where Lambeth’s Ranch was, but it ’peared a damn long ways.”
“Ahuh. How aboot some questions?”
“Okay. Gimme another drink.”
“Water or whisky?” drawled Pecos.
“I’ll take whisky, this time … thanks. My name’s Watson. Hal Watson. Hail from the Gulf. Rockport. I’ve been runnin’ stock out of Eagle’s Nest fer a couple of years. Thet’s how I come to get pinked.”
“Hal Watson? Heahed the name somewheres?” replied Pecos.
“I reckon you’re the fellar who got young Lambeth away from Brasee last spring?”
“Shore was. Smith’s my name.”
“You haven’t dropped into Eagle’s Nest since?”
“No. But never mind aboot me. Yu runnin’ cattle below heah on the river?”
“Yes. I started in with a thousand head.”
“What’s yore mark?”
“It was a diamond, but it looks like a star now,” replied Watson, meaningly.
“Diamond, eh? Wal, I shore saw a lot of yore stock last spring. Some close as five miles below heah. Reckon we might have branded a few of yore mavericks. Ha! Ha! But I didn’t see any diamond brands burned into stars.”
“All fresh done, Smith. I reckon thet outfit hasn’t been operatin’ long.”
“What outfit?”
“I don’t know. Some white cowhands an’ greaser vaqueros. They come across the Pecos from the east.”
“Wal. … Did yu see anythin’ of Don Felipe’s outfit?”
“They’s workin’ upriver, so I was told at Eagle’s Nest. They’re worryin’ Stafford a lot. He sold out his Y stock an’s runnin’ only one brand, the old Double X X.”
“Thet brand is mixed up with ours, too.”
“Smith, there are some new brands that will make you think. But let me tell you how I happen to be here. … I left home a week or so ago with two of my boys, a Mexican an’ a cowhand I recently hired. Said his name was Charley Stine. I’m satisfied now he was in with thet new outfit. We had two pack-hosses, an’ we dropped off into the brakes above Stafford’s. I hadn’t ridden in there for months an’ I was plumb surprised. More stock than I ever seen, but my brand was as scarce as hens’ teeth. We found about fifty head fenced in a brake an’ then my eyes were opened. My small diamond brand had been burned into a clumsy big star. You can bet I was red-headed. Stine advised goin’ back, an’ then’s when I got leary about him. You know thet big brake down ten miles or more below here? It has two branches, shape of a Y. Well, we run plumb into runnin’ hosses, bawlin’ calves, flyin’ ropes, an’ burnin’ hair. When I rode out of the brush into sight an’ yelled that outfit was shore surprised.”
“Man alive! Yu should have kept out of sight an’ let yore gun do the yellin’,” declared Pecos, severely.
“I quit packin’ a gun for fear I’d kill some one. An’ if I’d had one I’d shore done it then. Well, they didn’t wait to see whether I had one or not, but began to shoot. Stine disappeared an’ the Mexican was shot off his hoss. I had to ride for it, an’ as they had me cut off from below I lit out for upriver. Two of them, both white cowhands, chased me a mile or more, shootin’ to beat hell. They shore meant to kill me.”
“Wal, yu don’t say so,” drawled Pecos, dryly. “It shore takes a lot to convince some men. I don’t need to ask if yu’re a Texan.”
“No, that ain’t hard to guess. I’ve been only about five years in Texas. … Well, I outrode those men an’ got away by the skin of my teeth. Never knew I was shot till I grew wet an’ felt all wet an’ slippery. That’s all. … Gimme another drink.”
Pecos took to pacing the porch, his hands behind his back, his brow knitted in thought. Terrill was almost repelled. He was no longer her smiling, cool, and kindly Pecos. She stared as if fascinated. Vague recollection of the story he had related about himself now recurred. Either she had not believed it or had forgotten the bloody details. Then she did recall her first sight of him at Eagle’s Nest, and somehow that picture faintly resembled this somber Pecos.
“Honey, yo is sho pale round de gills,” remarked Mauree, drawing Terrill away from the door. “Now yo lissen to yo’ Mauree. They ain’t nothin’ bad gonna happen. I’se got second sight, chile, an’ yo can gamble on it.”
Sambo came in at that juncture, apparently as unconcerned as usual.
“Yo lazy perdiculous wench! Whar’s dat supper? We is hungry men.”
“Sambo, I done had it ’mos’ hot when dis Watson fellar come.”
The early twilight soon fell. Sambo revived the smoldering fire and then helped Mauree hurry the evening meal. Terrill kept away from the door, but still she saw Pecos pass to and fro. Presently Sambo called him.
“Boss, is dat fellar able to eat?”
“I reckon, Sambo,” replied Pecos, seating himself. “Terrill, I’m shore sorry I cain’t lie to you.”
“Don’t ever lie to me, Pecos,” she entreated.
“Wal, we’re due to lose some stock.”
“I heard every word he said to you,” went on Terrill, hurriedly. “Pecos, if we don’t lose anything but stock—I won’t care. We’re no better than other ranchers.”
“Terrill, thet’s shore sensible talk from yu. Maybe yu’ll grow up yet.”
Pecos spoke no more, ate sparingly, and soon went outside again.
“How yu feelin’, Watson?” he queried.
“Not so bad when I lay still.”
“Wal, yu’ll be settin’ up in the mawnin’. An’ as I’m goin’ to ride out early, I’d like to ask you some more questions.”
“Where you goin’, Smith?”
“I’m takin’ the back trail, an’ when the sun rises I’ll be peepin’ over my rifle down into thet Y Canyon.”
“From the rim?”
“Shore. I can ride there in less than two hours.”
“By Gawd! I’d like to go with you!”
“Right in the middle below the forks.”
“Ahuh. Thet’s a long shot from the north rim, but I reckon I can burn some of them. I’ll take two rifles an’ scare ’em to jump in the river, if no more. Did yu see whether they had rifles or not?”
“Come to think of it, they wasn’t usin’ rifles, else I wouldn’t be here.”
“Ahuh. … Now what was yu aboot to tell me aboot Brasee?”
“He’s dead. Killed by Jade, the barkeeper.”
“I reckoned he’d not last long. Was it the same bartender I slammed the door on last spring?”
“No. Brasee or one of his greasers did for him. Place changed hands again. You wouldn’t know Eagle’s Nest.”
“You don’t say? What’s happened? Somebody strike gold?”
“Stafford told me it was Texas gettin’ a move on. Cattle have gone to ten dollars a head. Maybe it won’t last, but Stafford thinks it will. Beginnin’ of a new era, he says. You know when cattle were thick an’ cheap there wasn’t much movement, especially of rustlers. But this late summer an’ fall all that changed. Trail herds drivin’ north now, by Horsehead Crossin’ in West Texas, an’ the Chisholm Trail is a procession these days. Comanches on the war-path. Texans buyin’ more stock than ever from Mexico, an’ a hell of a lot of it is gettin’ stolen right back again. Rustlers, gamblers, hoss thieves, gun-fighters, outlaws, loose women, all flockin’ in with settlers, cattlemen, soldiers. It’s one hell of a movement, Smith.”
“Humph. I’m shore surprised. But yu cain’t mean thet all this is affectin’ it out hyar west of the Pecos?”
“Shore I do. Course nothin’ like rumor has it for all the rest of cattle Texas. The Pecos has a hard name an’ it’s a far country. But if Texas is goin’ to be a cattle empire—which Stafford swears is as shore as the sun shines—why, West Texas will soon be runnin’ a hundred thousand head where now it’s runnin’ a thousand.”
“Ten dollars a haid!” Pecos whistled long and low. “More’n ever damn good reason to hang onto yore cattle. I told my young partner, Lambeth, dog-gone near thet very thing.”
“Smith, if you can hang on to half your stock, or one-third—you’re rich.”
“I’m not countin’ any calves before they’re branded, but this heah news shore … But, say, what’s this done to Eagle’s Nest?”
“Woke it up, Smith. There’s twenty-odd families now, not countin’ greasers. Another store. Freighters every week. An’ last but not least there’s law come in.”
“Law! What you mean—law?” queried Pecos, sharply.
“Thet’s all. Law.”
“Rangers?”
“No.”
“Sheriff?”
“No. There’s a little fat old duffer come to Eagle’s Nest. Calls himself Judge Roy Bean. He built a home aboot a block from the corner Brasee had, you remember. An’ this newcomer put up a sign—a good big one you can see—an’ it says on it: ‘Judge Roy Bean—Law West of the Pecos.’”
“Law West of the Pecos,” echoed Pecos, incredulously. “For Gawd’s sake! … Is this hyar Bean out of his haid?”
“Smith, it shore ’pears so. He’s constituted himself sheriff, judge, court, law. Nobody knows if he has any papers from the government. He’s been asked to show ’em an’ he showed that fellar a big six-shooter. Thet ain’t the best. He runs a saloon an’ he’s his own bartender. He stops holdin’ court to sell a drink an’ he stops bartendin’ to hold court. He runs a card game, an’ he’ll bust into that to arrest a fellar for cheatin’. An’, by thunder, I ’most forgot. He marries people.”
“A parson, too?” whooped Pecos.
“No, he hardly claims to be a parson. A judicial right, an’ moral for the community, he calls it.”
“Judge Roy Bean! … I’ll shore call on thet hombre. … An’ he marries people?—Dog-gone!—I reckon I could get a wife now—if thet Mary Heald would have me!”
Chapter XII
TERRILL had to clap her hand over her mouth to keep from shrieking. It might have been hysterical laughter, but only she would have known how mirthless it would be. Flying to her room, nearly knocking her brains out in the dark, she barred her door, and awoke to more astounding proclivities of a woman.
“Find a wife!” she whispered fiercely to herself as she tore at the bed covers in the dark and kicked at nothing. “That Heald girl?—Merciful God! I thought he’d forgotten her. … The cold-hearted faithless wretch! He’s what my mother told me to beware of. … But I’m his boss. He’s working for me. What’s partnership? This is my land, my cattle. He can’t marry anyone but … Oh! Oh!”
Terrill slipped to her knees and buried her head in the pillows. Pecos had no idea she was a girl—that she could be his wife. But how could he love her if he never knew she was a girl? Who was there to tell him that she, Terrill Lambeth, loved him, adored him, worshiped him more than any woman ever had or ever could worship him? And the old torment rushed over her again, augmented a thousandfold by a new instrument of this terrible thing, love—jealousy.
She was in the midst of the worst hour she had ever endured when a knock on her door sent her stiff and thrilling.
“Terrill, air yu in bed?” asked Pecos, in an anxious voice.
“I—I— Yes,” choked Terrill.
“What’s wrong with yore voice? Sounds sort of hoarse.”
Terrill made a magnificent effort. “Must have had my haid under the blanket,” she managed to enunciate clearly. “What do you want, Pecos?”
“Nothin’ much. Only to talk a little. This man Watson upset me.”
“Pecos, I’ll get up and—and dress,” returned Terrill, brazenly, anathematizing her silly falsehood.
“No. I’ll come in,” he replied, and to Terrill’s horror and transfixing gush of blood, the bar of the door, which had evidently not slipped into place, dropped at Pecos’ push and let him in.
“Shore dark as hell in this heah little cubbyhole of yores,” he drawled. “First time I ever was in heah, come to think aboot it. Yu used to be such a queer lad.”
Terrill never knew how she had accomplished the phenomenon, but when Pecos stumbled to her bed and sat down upon it she was lying on the far side with a blanket over her.
“Wal, son, I just wanted to tell yu thet I’m ridin’ off before daylight an’ won’t see yu till I get back,” said Pecos.
“But, Pecos—don’t—you oughtn’t go,” cried Terrill.
“Listen, pard. We’ve struck some bad times. I reckoned we would. An’ the thing for me to do is meet them. What’s the use of us runnin’ cattle if we cain’t fight for them? If I needed yu or thought there was any risk leavin’ yu behind I’d shore take yu along. But I’ll be ridin’ like hell in the dark. An’ yu know Cinco. It’s a thousand to one I’ll get back pronto, but—an’ see heah, Rill, I—I’m hatin’ to give yu this hunch—if I lost out at such odds an’ didn’t come back, yu wait a reasonable time, then leave for Eagle’s Nest with Watson an’ the niggers. Savvy?”
Terrill’s lips were mute. It was her arms she had to contend with—for they had a mad impulse to go up round his neck. To keep him home! She wondered if they would.
“Reckoned I’d jar yu,” he went on. “Heah’s my money belt. Hide it under yore bed. In case I don’t show up, thet’s yores. I’d advise yu to leave this Pecos country.”
“Leave my—home!” gasped Terrill.
“Shore. Terrill, yu dunce, I’m only sayin’ all this because somethin’ might happen. … An’ I’ve—I—I’ve been powerful fond of yu, lad. … Thet’s all. Now adios, an’ sleep tight.”
His hand groped for her head, and finding it, fastened his fingers in her hair, as he had been wont to do, and gave it a tug. Then he was gone, leaving Terrill prey to such sensations that she made sure she would die with them. But they did not kill her then, and she concluded that she must be pretty tough.
The heav
y money belt lay over her like a caressing arm. Terrill felt of it. How thick and soft! It was full of bills. Where had Pecos gotten all that money? She remembered Pecos’ story of the two cowhands with whom he had gone to maverick-branding, and who had betrayed him by burning brands. There was all the difference in the world. A maverick belonged to anybody, at least anyone who owned cattle on the range. But these brand-burners and brand-blotters knew they were guilty.
Terrill undressed and went to bed, with the leather belt around her. The weight of it, or the consciousness that it belonged to Pecos, disturbed her, so she finally put it under her pillow. Then it gave rise to a fearful dream, in which Pecos was about to be hanged for rustling, and she rode up on thundering Cinco to snatch him out of the very noose. They escaped very romantically and satisfactorily, but when Terrill awakened the dream haunted her.
She was dropping off to sleep again when she heard a thud of soft feet outside on the porch. Pecos had jumped down from his loft. Her little window was a mere gray patch in the black wall. She got up on her knees to peep out. The stars were wan. It was a couple of hours before dawn. Pecos’ steps sounded faintly, and after a considerable interval she heard a rapid beat of hoofs on the trail. Pecos had ridden away on his deadly errand. It gave her panic, yet in spite of that there came to her a sense of disaster for those thieving riders of the brakes. Neither her father, nor Sambo, nor any of the other cattlemen between Horsehead Crossing and the Rio Grande had ever presented any obstacle to rustlers. But Pecos seemed of another stripe.
She crawled back into bed, and lay awake until dawn, after which she fell into a doze. Mauree awakened her. “Rill, air yo daid or jest gettin’ like them lazy white trash in the towns?”
Terrill would have been out promptly after that call, had it not been for the need to hide Pecos’ money belt. How heavy it was! And in the light it looked fat and bulky. She wished Pecos was going to marry her and take her to Rockport on a honeymoon. Just at that moment Terrill did not care where Pecos had gotten the money.