The Zane Grey Megapack

by Zane Grey

  Then Nell came running from the house, her golden hair flying, her hands outstretched, her face wonderful.

  “Dick! Dick! Oh-h-h, Dick!” she cried. Her voice seemed to quiver in Belding’s heart.

  Belding’s eyes began to blur. He was not sure he saw clearly. Whose face was this now close before him—a long thin, shrunken face, haggard, tragic in its semblance of torture, almost of death? But the eyes were keen and kind. Belding thought wildly that they proved he was not dreaming.

  “I shore am glad to see you all,” said a well-remembered voice in a slow, cool drawl.

  CHAPTER XVIII

  REALITY AGAINST DREAMS

  Ladd, Lash, Thorne, Mercedes, they were all held tight in Belding’s arms. Then he ran to Blanco Diablo. For once the great horse was gentle, quiet, glad. He remembered this kindest of masters and reached for him with warm, wet muzzle.

  Dick Gale was standing bowed over Nell’s slight form, almost hidden in his arms. Belding hugged them both. He was like a boy. He saw Ben Chase and his son slip away under the trees, but the circumstances meant nothing to him then.

  “Dick! Dick!” he roared. “Is it you?… Say, who do you think’s here—here, in Forlorn River?”

  Gale gripped Belding with a hand as rough and hard as a file and as strong as a vise. But he did not speak a word. Belding thought Gale’s eyes would haunt him forever.

  It was then three more persons came upon the scene—Elsie Gale, running swiftly, her father assisting Mrs. Gale, who appeared about to faint.

  “Belding! Who on earth’s that?” cried Dick hoarsely.

  “Quien sabe, my son,” replied Belding; and now his voice seemed a little shaky. “Nell, come here. Give him a chance.”

  Belding slipped his arm round Nell, and whispered in her ear. “This’ll be great!”

  Elsie Gale’s face was white and agitated, a face expressing extreme joy.

  “Oh, brother! Mama saw you—Papa saw you, and never knew you! But I knew you when you jumped quick—that way—off your horse. And now I don’t know you. You wild man! You giant! You splendid barbarian!… Mama, Papa, hurry! It is Dick! Look at him. Just look at him! Oh-h, thank God!”

  Belding turned away and drew Nell with him. In another second she and Mercedes were clasped in each other’s arms. Then followed a time of joyful greetings all round.

  The Yaqui stood leaning against a tree watching the welcoming home of the lost. No one seemed to think of him, until Belding, ever mindful of the needs of horses, put a hand on Blanco Diablo and called to Yaqui to bring the others. They led the string of whites down to the barn, freed them of wet and dusty saddles and packs, and turned them loose in the alfalfa, now breast-high. Diablo found his old spirit; Blanco Sol tossed his head and whistled his satisfaction; White Woman pranced to and fro; and presently they all settled down to quiet grazing. How good it was for Belding to see those white shapes against the rich background of green! His eyes glistened. It was a sight he had never expected to see again. He lingered there many moments when he wanted to hurry back to his rangers.

  At last he tore himself away from watching Blanco Diablo and returned to the house. It was only to find that he might have spared himself the hurry. Jim and Ladd were lying on the beds that had not held them for so many months. Their slumber seemed as deep and quiet as death. Curiously Belding gazed down upon them. They had removed only boots and chaps. Their clothes were in tatters. Jim appeared little more than skin and bones, a long shape, dark and hard as iron. Ladd’s appearance shocked Belding. The ranger looked an old man, blasted, shriveled, starved. Yet his gaunt face, though terrible in its records of tortures, had something fine and noble, even beautiful to Belding, in its strength, its victory.

  Thorne and Mercedes had disappeared. The low murmur of voices came from Mrs. Gale’s room, and Belding concluded that Dick was still with his family. No doubt he, also, would soon seek rest and sleep. Belding went through the patio and called in at Nell’s door. She was there sitting by her window. The flush of happiness had not left her face, but she looked stunned, and a shadow of fear lay dark in her eyes. Belding had intended to talk. He wanted someone to listen to him. The expression in Nell’s eyes, however, silenced him. He had forgotten. Nell read his thought in his face, and then she lost all her color and dropped her head. Belding entered, stood beside her with a hand on hers. He tried desperately hard to think of the right thing to say, and realized so long as he tried that he could not speak at all.

  “Nell—Dick’s back safe and sound,” he said, slowly. “That’s the main thing. I wish you could have seen his eyes when he held you in his arms out there.… Of course, Dick’s coming knocks out your trip East and changes plans generally. We haven’t had the happiest time lately. But now it’ll be different. Dick’s as true as a Yaqui. He’ll chase that Chase fellow, don’t mistake me.… Then mother will be home soon. She’ll straighten out this—this mystery. And Nell—however it turns out—I know Dick Gale will feel just the same as I feel. Brace up now, girl.”

  Belding left the patio and traced thoughtful steps back toward the corrals. He realized the need of his wife. If she had been at home he would not have come so close to killing two men. Nell would never have fallen so low in spirit. Whatever the real truth of the tragedy of his wife’s life, it would not make the slightest difference to him. What hurt him was the pain mother and daughter had suffered, were suffering still. Somehow he must put an end to that pain.

  He found the Yaqui curled up in a corner of the barn in as deep a sleep as that of the rangers. Looking down at him, Belding felt again the rush of curious thrilling eagerness to learn all that had happened since the dark night when Yaqui had led the white horses away into the desert. Belding curbed his impatience and set to work upon tasks he had long neglected. Presently he was interrupted by Mr. Gale, who came out, beside himself with happiness and excitement. He flung a hundred questions at Belding and never gave him time to answer one, even if that had been possible. Finally, when Mr. Gale lost his breath, Belding got a word in. “See here, Mr. Gale, you know as much as I know. Dick’s back. They’re all back—a hard lot, starved, burned, torn to pieces, worked out to the limit I never saw in desert travelers, but they’re alive—alive and well, man! Just wait. Just gamble I won’t sleep or eat till I hear that story. But they’ve got to sleep and eat.”

  Belding gathered with growing amusement that besides the joy, excitement, anxiety, impatience expressed by Mr. Gale there was something else which Belding took for pride. It pleased him. Looking back, he remembered some of the things Dick had confessed his father thought of him. Belding’s sympathy had always been with the boy. But he had learned to like the old man, to find him kind and wise, and to think that perhaps college and business had not brought out the best in Richard Gale. The West had done that, however, as it had for many a wild youngster; and Belding resolved to have a little fun at the expense of Mr. Gale. So he began by making a few remarks that appeared to rob Dick’s father of both speech and breath.

  “And don’t mistake me,” concluded Belding, “just keep out of earshot when Laddy tells us the story of that desert trip, unless you’re hankering to have your hair turn pure white and stand curled on end and freeze that way.”

  About the middle of the forenoon on the following day the rangers hobbled out of the kitchen to the porch.

  “I’m a sick man, I tell you,” Ladd was complaining, “an’ I gotta be fed. Soup! Beef tea! That ain’t so much as wind to me. I want about a barrel of bread an’ butter, an’ a whole platter of mashed potatoes with gravy an’ green stuff—all kinds of green stuff—an’ a whole big apple pie. Give me everythin’ an’ anythin’ to eat but meat. Shore I never, never want to taste meat again, an’ sight of a piece of sheep meat would jest about finish me.… Jim, you used to be a human bein’ that stood up for Charlie Ladd.”

  “Laddy, I’m lined up beside you with both guns,” replied Jim, plaintively. “Hungry? Say, the smell of breakfast in that kitchen made my mout
h water so I near choked to death. I reckon we’re gettin’ most onhuman treatment.”

  “But I’m a sick man,” protested Ladd, “an’ I’m agoin’ to fall over in a minute if somebody doesn’t feed me. Nell, you used to be fond of me.”

  “Oh, Laddy, I am yet,” replied Nell.

  “Shore I don’t believe it. Any girl with a tender heart just couldn’t let a man starve under her eyes… Look at Dick, there. I’ll bet he’s had something to eat, mebbe potatoes an’ gravy, an’ pie an’—”

  “Laddy, Dick has had no more than I gave you—indeed, not nearly so much.”

  “Shore he’s had a lot of kisses then, for he hasn’t hollered onct about this treatment.”

  “Perhaps he has,” said Nell, with a blush; “and if you think that—they would help you to be reasonable I might—I’ll—”

  “Well, powerful fond as I am of you, just now kisses’ll have to run second to bread an’ butter.”

  “Oh, Laddy, what a gallant speech!” laughed Nell. “I’m sorry, but I’ve Dad’s orders.”

  “Laddy,” interrupted Belding, “you’ve got to be broke in gradually to eating. Now you know that. You’d be the severest kind of a boss if you had some starved beggars on your hands.”

  “But I’m sick—I’m dyin’,” howled Ladd.

  “You were never sick in your life, and if all the bullet holes I see in you couldn’t kill you, why, you never will die.”

  “Can I smoke?” queried Ladd, with sudden animation. “My Gawd, I used to smoke. Shore I’ve forgot. Nell, if you want to be reinstated in my gallery of angels, just find me a pipe an’ tobacco.”

  “I’ve hung onto my pipe,” said Jim, thoughtfully. “I reckon I had it empty in my mouth for seven years or so, wasn’t it, Laddy? A long time! I can see the red lava an’ the red haze, an’ the red twilight creepin’ up. It was hot an’ some lonely. Then the wind, and always that awful silence! An’ always Yaqui watchin’ the west, an’ Laddy with his checkers, an’ Mercedes burnin’ up, wastin’ away to nothin’ but eyes! It’s all there—I’ll never get rid—”

  “Chop that kind of talk,” interrupted Belding, bluntly. “Tell us where Yaqui took you—what happened to Rojas—why you seemed lost for so long.”

  “I reckon Laddy can tell all that best; but when it comes to Rojas’s finish I’ll tell what I seen, an’ so’ll Dick an’ Thorne. Laddy missed Rojas’s finish. Bar none, that was the—”

  “I’m a sick man, but I can talk,” put in Ladd, “an’ shore I don’t want the whole story exaggerated none by Jim.”

  Ladd filled the pipe Nell brought, puffed ecstatically at it, and settled himself upon the bench for a long talk. Nell glanced appealingly at Dick, who tried to slip away. Mercedes did go, and was followed by Thorne. Mr. Gale brought chairs, and in subdued excitement called his wife and daughter. Belding leaned forward, rendered all the more eager by Dick’s reluctance to stay, the memory of the quick tragic change in the expression of Mercedes’s beautiful eyes, by the strange gloomy cast stealing over Ladd’s face.

  The ranger talked for two hours—talked till his voice weakened to a husky whisper. At the conclusion of his story there was an impressive silence. Then Elsie Gale stood up, and with her hand on Dick’s shoulder, her eyes bright and warm as sunlight, she showed the rangers what a woman thought of them and of the Yaqui. Nell clung to Dick, weeping silently. Mrs. Gale was overcome, and Mr. Gale, very white and quiet, helped her up to her room.

  “The Indian! the Indian!” burst out Belding, his voice deep and rolling. “What did I tell you? Didn’t I say he’d be a godsend? Remember what I said about Yaqui and some gory Aztec knifework? So he cut Rojas loose from that awful crater wall, foot by foot, finger by finger, slow and terrible? And Rojas didn’t hang long on the choya thorns? Thank the Lord for that!… Laddy, no story of Camino del Diablo can hold a candle to yours. The flight and the fight were jobs for men. But living through this long hot summer and coming out—that’s a miracle. Only the Yaqui could have done it. The Yaqui! The Yaqui!”

  “Shore. Charlie Ladd looks up at an Indian these days. But Beldin’, as for the comin’ out, don’t forget the hosses. Without grand old Sol an’ Diablo, who I don’t hate no more, an’ the other Blancos, we’d never have got here. Yaqui an’ the hosses, that’s my story!”

  Early in the afternoon of the next day Belding encountered Dick at the water barrel.

  “Belding, this is river water, and muddy at that,” said Dick. “Lord knows I’m not kicking. But I’ve dreamed some of our cool running spring, and I want a drink from it.”

  “Never again, son. The spring’s gone, faded, sunk, dry as dust.”

  “Dry!” Gale slowly straightened. “We’ve had rains. The river’s full. The spring ought to be overflowing. What’s wrong? Why is it dry?”

  “Dick, seeing you’re interested, I may as well tell you that a big charge of nitroglycerin choked my spring.”

  “Nitroglycerin?” echoed Gale. Then he gave a quick start. “My mind’s been on home, Nell, my family. But all the same I felt something was wrong here with the ranch, with you, with Nell… Belding, that ditch there is dry. The roses are dead. The little green in that grass has come with the rains. What’s happened? The ranch’s run down. Now I look around I see a change.”

  “Some change, yes,” replied Belding, bitterly. “Listen, son.”

  Briefly, but not the less forcibly for that, Belding related his story of the operations of the Chases.

  Astonishment appeared to be Gale’s first feeling. “Our water gone, our claims gone, our plans forestalled! Why, Belding, it’s unbelievable. Forlorn River with promoters, business, railroad, bank, and what not!”

  Suddenly he became fiery and suspicious. “These Chases—did they do all this on the level?”

  “Barefaced robbery! Worse than a Greaser holdup,” replied Belding, grimly.

  “You say the law upheld them?”

  “Sure. Why, Ben Chase has a pull as strong as Diablo’s on a down grade. Dick, we’re jobbed, outfigured, beat, tricked, and we can’t do a thing.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry, Belding, most of all for Laddy,” said Gale, feelingly. “He’s all in. He’ll never ride again. He wanted to settle down here on the farm he thought he owned, grow grass and raise horses, and take it easy. Oh, but it’s tough! Say, he doesn’t know it yet. He was just telling me he’d like to go out and look the farm over. Who’s going to tell him? What’s he going to do when he finds out about this deal?”

  “Son, that’s made me think some,” replied Belding, with keen eyes fast upon the young man. “And I was kind of wondering how you’d take it.”

  “I? Well, I’ll call on the Chases. Look here, Belding, I’d better do some forestalling myself. If Laddy gets started now there’ll be blood spilled. He’s not just right in his mind yet. He talks in his sleep sometimes about how Yaqui finished Rojas. If it’s left to him—he’ll kill these men. But if I take it up—”

  “You’re talking sense, Dick. Only here, I’m not so sure of you. And there’s more to tell. Son, you’ve Nell to think of and your mother.”

  Belding’s ranger gave him a long and searching glance.

  “You can be sure of me,” he said.

  “All right, then; listen,” began Belding. With deep voice that had many a beak and tremor he told Gale how Nell had been hounded by Radford Chase, how her mother had been driven by Ben Chase—the whole sad story.

  “So that’s the trouble! Poor little girl!” murmured Gale, brokenly. “I felt something was wrong. Nell wasn’t natural, like her old self. And when I begged her to marry me soon, while Dad was here, she couldn’t talk. She could only cry.”

  “It was hard on Nell,” said Belding, simply. “But it’ll be better now you’re back. Dick, I know the girl. She’ll refuse to marry you and you’ll have a hard job to break her down, as hard as the one you just rode in off of. I think I know you, too, or I wouldn’t be saying—”

  “Belding, what’re you hinting at?
” demanded Gale. “Do you dare insinuate that—that—if the thing were true it’d make any difference to me?”

  “Aw, come now, Dick; I couldn’t mean that. I’m only awkward at saying things. And I’m cut pretty deep—”

  “For God’s sake, you don’t believe what Chase said?” queried Gale, in passionate haste. “It’s a lie. I swear it’s a lie. I know it’s a lie. And I’ve got to tell Nell this minute. Come on in with me. I want you, Belding. Oh, why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

  Belding felt himself dragged by an iron arm into the sitting-room out into the patio, and across that to where Nell sat in her door. At sight of them she gave a little cry, drooped for an instant, then raised a pale, still face, with eyes beginning to darken.

  “Dearest, I know now why you are not wearing my mother’s ring,” said Gale, steadily and low-voiced.

  “Dick, I am not worthy,” she replied, and held out a trembling hand with the ring lying in the palm.

  Swift as light Gale caught her hand and slipped the ring back upon the third finger.

  “Nell! Look at me. It is your engagement ring.… Listen. I don’t believe this—this thing that’s been torturing you. I know it’s a lie. I am absolutely sure your mother will prove it a lie. She must have suffered once—perhaps there was a sad error—but the thing you fear is not true. But, hear me, dearest; even if it was true it wouldn’t make the slightest difference to me. I’d promise you on my honor I’d never think of it again. I’d love you all the more because you’d suffered. I want you all the more to be my wife—to let me make you forget—to—”

  She rose swiftly with the passionate abandon of a woman stirred to her depths, and she kissed him.

  “Oh, Dick, you’re good—so good! You’ll never know—just what those words mean to me. They’ve saved me—I think.”

  “Then, dearest, it’s all right?” Dick questioned, eagerly. “You will keep your promise? You will marry me?”

  The glow, the light faded out of her face, and now the blue eyes were almost black. She drooped and shook her head.