by Zane Grey
A low-spoken word from Ladd recalled Gale to the question of surroundings and of possible dangers. Ladd had halted a few yards ahead. They had reached the summit of what was evidently a high ridge which sloped with much greater steepness on the far side. It was only after a few more forward steps, however, that Dick could see down the slope. Then full in view flashed a bright campfire around which clustered a group of dark figures. They were encamped in a wide arroyo, where horses could be seen grazing in black patches of grass between clusters of trees. A second look at the campers told Gale they were Mexicans. At this moment Lash came forward to join Ladd, and the two spent a long, uninterrupted moment studying the arroyo. A hoarse laugh, faint yet distinct, floated up on the cool wind.
“Well, Laddy, what’re you makin’ of that outfit?” inquired Lash, speaking softly.
“Same as any of them raider outfits,” replied Ladd. “They’re across the line for beef. But they’ll run off any good stock. As hoss thieves these rebels have got ’em all beat. That outfit is waitin’ till it’s late. There’s a ranch up the arroyo.”
Gale heard the first speaker curse under his breath.
“Sure, I feel the same,” said Ladd. “But we’ve got a girl an’ the young man to look after, not to mention our pack outfit. An’ we’re huntin’ for a job, not a fight, old hoss. Keep on your chaps!”
“Nothin’ to it but head south for the Rio Forlorn.”
“You’re talkin’ sense now, Jim. I wish we’d headed that way long ago. But it ain’t strange I’d want to travel away from the border, thinkin’ of the girl. Jim, we can’t go round this Greaser outfit an’ strike the road again. Too rough. So we’ll have to give up gettin’ to San Felipe.”
“Perhaps it’s just as well, Laddy. Rio Forlorn is on the border line, but it’s country where these rebels ain’t been yet.”
“Wait till they learn of the oasis an’ Beldin’s hosses!” exclaimed Laddy. “I’m not anticipatin’ peace anywhere along the border, Jim. But we can’t go ahead; we can’t go back.”
“What’ll we do, Laddy? It’s a hike to Beldin’s ranch. An’ if we get there in daylight some Greaser will see the girl before Beldin’ can hide her. It’ll get talked about. The news’ll travel to Casita like sage balls before the wind.”
“Shore we won’t ride into Rio Forlorn in the daytime. Let’s slip the packs, Jim. We can hid them off in the cactus an’ come back after them. With the young man ridin’ we—”
The whispering was interrupted by a loud ringing neigh that whistled up from the arroyo. One of the horses had scented the travelers on the ridge top. The indifference of the Mexicans changed to attention.
Ladd and Lash turned back and led the horses into the first opening on the south side of the road. There was nothing more said at the moment, and manifestly the cowboys were in a hurry. Gale had to run in the open places to keep up. When they did stop it was welcome to Gale, for he had begun to fall behind.
The packs were slipped, securely tied and hidden in a mesquite clump. Ladd strapped a blanket around one of the horses. His next move was to take off his chaps.
“Gale, you’re wearin’ boots, an’ by liftin’ your feet you can beat the cactus,” he whispered. “But the—the—Miss Castaneda, she’ll be torn all to pieces unless she puts these on. Please tell her—an’ hurry.”
Dick took the caps, and, going up to Mercedes, he explained the situation. She laughed, evidently at his embarrassed earnestness, and slipped out of the saddle.
“Señor, chapparejos and I are not strangers,” she said.
Deftly and promptly she equipped herself, and then Gale helped her into the saddle, called to her horse, and started off. Lash directed Gale to mount the other saddled horse and go next.
Dick had not ridden a hundred yards behind the trotting leaders before he had sundry painful encounters with reaching cactus arms. The horse missed these by a narrow margin. Dick’s knees appeared to be in line, and it became necessary for him to lift them high and let his boots take the onslaught of the spikes. He was at home in the saddle, and the accomplishment was about the only one he possessed that had been of any advantage during his sojourn in the West.
Ladd pursued a zigzag course southward across the desert, trotting down the aisles, cantering in wide, bare patches, walking through the clumps of cacti. The desert seemed all of a sameness to Dick—a wilderness of rocks and jagged growths hemmed in by lowering ranges, always looking close, yet never growing any nearer. The moon slanted back toward the west, losing its white radiance, and the gloom of the earlier evening began to creep into the washes and to darken under the mesas. By and by Ladd entered an arroyo, and here the travelers turned and twisted with the meanderings of a dry stream bed. At the head of a canyon they had to take once more to the rougher ground. Always it led down, always it grew rougher, more rolling, with wider bare spaces, always the black ranges loomed close.
Gale became chilled to the bone, and his clothes were damp and cold. His knees smarted from the wounds of the poisoned thorns, and his right hand was either swollen stiff or too numb to move. Moreover, he was tiring. The excitement, the long walk, the miles on miles of jolting trot—these had wearied him. Mercedes must be made of steel, he thought, to stand all that she had been subjected to and yet, when the stars were paling and dawn perhaps not far away, stay in the saddle.
So Dick Gale rode on, drowsier for each mile, and more and more giving the horse a choice of ground. Sometimes a prod from a murderous spine roused Dick. A grayness had blotted out the waning moon in the west and the clear, dark, starry sky overhead. Once when Gale, thinking to fight his weariness, raised his head, he saw that one of the horses in the lead was riderless. Ladd was carrying Mercedes. Dick marveled that her collapse had not come sooner. Another time, rousing himself again, he imagined they were now on a good hard road.
It seemed that hours passed, though he knew only little time had elapsed, when once more he threw off the spell of weariness. He heard a dog bark. Tall trees lined the open lane down which he was riding. Presently in the gray gloom he saw low, square houses with flat roofs. Ladd turned off to the left down another lane, gloomy between trees. Every few rods there was one of the squat houses. This lane opened into wider, lighter space. The cold air bore a sweet perfume—whether of flowers or fruit Dick could not tell. Ladd rode on for perhaps a quarter of a mile, though it seemed interminably long to Dick. A grove of trees loomed dark in the gray morning. Ladd entered it and was lost in the shade. Dick rode on among trees. Presently he heard voices, and soon another house, low and flat like the others, but so long he could not see the farther end, stood up blacker than the trees. As he dismounted, cramped and sore, he could scarcely stand. Lash came alongside. He spoke, and someone with a big, hearty voice replied to him. Then it seemed to Dick that he was led into blackness like pitch, where, presently, he felt blankets thrown on him and then his drowsy faculties faded.
CHAPTER IV
FORLORN RIVER
When Dick opened his eyes a flood of golden sunshine streamed in at the open window under which he lay. His first thought was one of blank wonder as to where in the world he happened to be. The room was large, square, adobe-walled. It was littered with saddles, harness, blankets. Upon the floor was a bed spread out upon a tarpaulin. Probably this was where someone had slept. The sight of huge dusty spurs, a gun belt with sheath and gun, and a pair of leather chaps bristling with broken cactus thorns recalled to Dick the cowboys, the ride, Mercedes, and the whole strange adventure that had brought him there.
He did not recollect having removed his boots; indeed, upon second thought, he knew he had not done so. But there they stood upon the floor. Ladd and Lash must have taken them off when he was so exhausted and sleepy that he could not tell what was happening. He felt a dead weight of complete lassitude, and he did not want to move. A sudden pain in his hand caused him to hold it up. It was black and blue, swollen to almost twice its normal size, and stiff as a board. The knuckles were skinned
and crusted with dry blood. Dick soliloquized that it was the worst-looking hand he had seen since football days, and that it would inconvenience him for some time.
A warm, dry, fragrant breeze came through the window. Dick caught again the sweet smell of flowers or fruit. He heard the fluttering of leaves, the murmur of running water, the twittering of birds, then the sound of approaching footsteps and voices. The door at the far end of the room was open. Through it he saw poles of peeled wood upholding a porch roof, a bench, rose bushes in bloom, grass, and beyond these bright-green foliage of trees.
“He shore was sleepin’ when I looked in an hour ago,” said a voice that Dick recognized as Ladd’s.
“Let him sleep,” came the reply in deep, good-natured tones. “Mrs. B. says the girl’s never moved. Must have been a tough ride for them both. Forty miles through cactus!”
“Young Gale hoofed darn near half the way,” replied Ladd. “We tried to make him ride one of our hosses. If we had, we’d never got here. A walk like that’d killed me an’ Jim.”
“Well, Laddy, I’m right down glad to see you boys, and I’ll do all I can for the young couple,” said the other. “But I’m doing some worry here; don’t mistake me.”
“About your stock?”
“I’ve got only a few head of cattle at the oasis now, I’m worrying some, mostly about my horses. The U. S. is doing some worrying, too, don’t mistake me. The rebels have worked west and north as far as Casita. There are no cavalrymen along the line beyond Casita, and there can’t be. It’s practically waterless desert. But these rebels are desert men. They could cross the line beyond the Rio Forlorn and smuggle arms into Mexico. Of course, my job is to keep tab on Chinese and Japs trying to get into the U.S. from Magdalena Bay. But I’m supposed to patrol the border line. I’m going to hire some rangers. Now, I’m not so afraid of being shot up, though out in this lonely place there’s danger of it; what I’m afraid of most is losing that bunch of horses. If any rebels come this far, or if they ever hear of my horses, they’re going to raid me. You know what those guerrilla Mexicans will do for horses. They’re crazy on horse flesh. They know fine horses. They breed the finest in the world. So I don’t sleep nights any more.”
“Reckon me an’ Jim might as well tie up with your for a spell, Beldin’. We’ve been ridin’ up an’ down Arizona tryin’ to keep out of sight of wire fences.”
“Laddy, it’s open enough around Forlorn River to satisfy even an old-time cowpuncher like you,” laughed Belding. “I’d take your staying on as some favor, don’t mistake me. Perhaps I can persuade the young man Gale to take a job with me.”
“That’s shore likely. He said he had no money, no friends. An’ if a scrapper’s all you’re lookin’ for he’ll do,” replied Ladd, with a dry chuckle.
“Mrs. B. will throw some broncho capers round this ranch when she hears I’m going to hire a stranger.”
“Why?”
“Well, there’s Nell— And you said this Gale was a young American. My wife will be scared to death for fear Nell will fall in love with him.”
Laddy choked off a laugh, then evidently slapped his knee or Belding’s, for there was a resounding smack.
“He’s a fine-spoken, good-looking chap, you said?” went on Belding.
“Shore he is,” said Laddy, warmly. “What do you say, Jim?”
By this time Dick Gale’s ears began to burn and he was trying to make himself deaf when he wanted to hear every little word.
“Husky young fellow, nice voice, steady, clear eyes, kinda proud, I thought, an’ some handsome, he was,” replied Jim Lash.
“Maybe I ought to think twice before taking a stranger into my family,” said Belding, seriously. “Well, I guess he’s all right, Laddy, being the cavalryman’s friend. No bum or lunger? He must be all right?”
“Bum? Lunger? Say, didn’t I tell you I shook hands with this boy an’ was plumb glad to meet him?” demanded Laddy, with considerable heat. Manifestly he had been affronted. “Tom Beldin’, he’s a gentleman, an’ he could lick you in—in half a second. How about that, Jim?”
“Less time,” replied Lash. “Tom, here’s my stand. Young Gale can have my hoss, my gun, anythin’ of mine.”
“Aw, I didn’t mean to insult you, boys, don’t mistake me,” said Belding. “Course he’s all right.”
The object of this conversation lay quiet upon his bed, thrilling and amazed at being so championed by the cowboys, delighted with Belding’s idea of employing him, and much amused with the quaint seriousness of the three.
“How’s the young man?” called a woman’s voice. It was kind and mellow and earnest.
Gale heard footsteps on flagstones.
“He’s asleep yet, wife,” replied Belding. “Guess he was pretty much knocked out.… I’ll close the door there so we won’t wake him.”
There were slow, soft steps, then the door softly closed. But the fact scarcely made a perceptible difference in the sound of the voices outside.
“Laddy and Jim are going to stay,” went on Belding. “It’ll be like the old Panhandle days a little. I’m powerful glad to have the boys, Nellie. You know I meant to sent to Casita to ask them. We’ll see some trouble before the revolution is ended. I think I’ll make this young man Gale an offer.”
“He isn’t a cowboy?” asked Mrs. Belding, quickly.
“No.”
“Shore he’d make a darn good one,” put in Laddy.
“What is he? Who is he? Where did he come from? Surely you must be—”
“Laddy swears he’s all right,” interrupted the husband. “That’s enough reference for me. Isn’t it enough for you?”
“Humph! Laddy knows a lot about young men, now doesn’t he, especially strangers from the East?… Tom, you must be careful!”
“Wife, I’m only too glad to have a nervy young chap come along. What sense is there in your objection, if Jim and Laddy stick up for him?”
“But, Tom—he’ll fall in love with Nell!” protested Mrs. Belding.
“Well, wouldn’t that be regular? Doesn’t every man who comes along fall in love with Nell? Hasn’t it always happened? When she was a schoolgirl in Kansas didn’t it happen? Didn’t she have a hundred moon-eyed ninnies after her in Texas? I’ve had some peace out here in the desert, except when a Greaser or a prospector or a Yaqui would come along. Then same old story—in love with Nell!”
“But, Tom, Nell might fall in love with this young man!” exclaimed the wife, in distress.
“Laddy, Jim, didn’t I tell you?” cried Belding. “I knew she’d say that.… My dear wife, I would be simply overcome with joy if Nell did fall in love once. Real good and hard! She’s wilder than any antelope out there on the desert. Nell’s nearly twenty now, and so far as we know she’s never cared a rap for any fellow. And she’s just as gay and full of the devil as she was at fourteen. Nell’s as good and lovable as she is pretty, but I’m afraid she’ll never grow into a woman while we live out in this lonely land. And you’ve always hated towns where there was a chance for the girl—just because you were afraid she’d fall in love. You’ve always been strange, even silly, about that. I’ve done my best for Nell—loved her as if she were my own daughter. I’ve changed many business plans to suit your whims. There are rough times ahead, maybe. I need men. I’ll hire this chap Gale if he’ll stay. Let Nell take her chance with him, just as she’ll have to take chances with men when we get out of the desert. She’ll be all the better for it.”
“I hope Laddy’s not mistaken in his opinion of this newcomer,” replied Mrs. Belding, with a sigh of resignation.
“Shore I never made a mistake in my life figger’n’ people,” said Laddy, stoutly.
“Yes, you have, Laddy,” replied Mrs. Belding. “You’re wrong about Tom.… Well, supper is to be got. That young man and the girl will be starved. I’ll go in now. If Nell happens around don’t—don’t flatter her, Laddy, like you did at dinner. Don’t make her think of her looks.”
Dick hea
rd Mrs. Belding walk away.
“Shore she’s powerful particular about that girl,” observed Laddy. “Say, Tom, Nell knows she’s pretty, doesn’t she?”
“She’s liable to find it out unless you shut up, Laddy. When you visited us out here some weeks ago, you kept paying cowboy compliments to her.”
“An’ it’s your idea that cowboy compliments are plumb bad for girls?”
“Downright bad, Laddy, so my wife says.”
“I’ll be darned if I believe any girl can be hurt by a little sweet talk. It pleases ’em.… But say, Beldin’, speaking of looks, have you got a peek yet at the Spanish girl?”
“Not in the light.”
“Well, neither have I in daytime. I had enough by moonlight. Nell is some on looks, but I’m regretful passin’ the ribbon to the lady from Mex. Jim, where are you?”
“My money’s on Nell,” replied Lash. “Gimme a girl with flesh an’ color, an’ blue eyes a-laughin’. Miss Castaneda is some peach, I’ll not gainsay. But her face seemed too white. An’ when she flashed those eyes on me, I thought I was shot! When she stood up there at first, thankin’ us, I felt as if a—a princess was round somewhere. Now, Nell is kiddish an’ sweet an’—”
“Chop it,” interrupted Belding. “Here comes Nell now.”
Dick’s tingling ears took in the pattering of light footsteps, the rush of someone running.
“Here you are,” cried a sweet, happy voice. “Dad, the Señorita is perfectly lovely. I’ve been peeping at her. She sleeps like—like death. She’s so white. Oh, I hope she won’t be ill.”
“Shore she’s only played out,” said Laddy. “But she had spunk while it lasted.… I was just arguin’ with Jim an’ Tom about Miss Castaneda.”
“Gracious! Why, she’s beautiful. I never saw any one so beautiful.… How strange and sad, that about her! Tell me more, Laddy. You promised. I’m dying to know. I never hear anything in this awful place. Didn’t you say the Señorita had a sweetheart?”