The Zane Grey Megapack

by Zane Grey

  By the time Lying Juan had supper ready Blinky and Gus rode in camp.

  “Hungrier’n a wolf,” said Blinky.

  “Well, what’s the verdict?” asked Pan with a smile.

  “Wuss an’ more of it,” drawled Blinky. “We seen most five thousand hosses, an’ I’ll be doggoned if I don’t believe we’ll ketch them all.”

  “You found this side of the valley a regular hole-proof wing for our trap, I’ll bet,” asserted Pan.

  “Wal, there’s places where hosses could climb out easy, but they won’t try it,” replied Blinky. “The valley slopes up long an’ easy to the wall. But when we drive them hosses they’ll keep down in the center, between the risin’ ground an’ thet wash. They’ll run far past them places where they could climb out. I shore lose my breath whenever I think of what’s comin’ off. I reckon the valley is a made-to-order corral.”

  “Blink, you have some intelligence after all,” replied Pan, chaffingly. “Did you see any sign of Brown and Mac New?”

  “Not after we separated this mawnin’,” returned Blinky. “An’ thet reminds me, pard, I’ve got somethin’ to tell you. This fellar Hurd—or Mac New as you call him—has a pocketful of gold coin.”

  “How do you know?” queried Pan bluntly.

  “Gus kicked his coat this mawnin’, over there where Mac New had his bed, an’ a pile of gold eagles rolled out. Just by accident. Gus wanted somethin’ or other. He was plumb surprised, an’ he said Mac New was plumb flustered. Now what you make of thet?”

  “By golly, Blink, I don’t know. There’s no reason why he shouldn’t have some money, yet it strikes me queer. How much gold?”

  “Aw, two or three hundred easy,” rejoined Blinky. “It struck me sort of queer, too. I recollected thet he told us he’d only been doin’ guard duty at the jail fer a couple of months. An’ Gus recollected how not long before Mac New went to work he’d been a regular grub-line runner. We fed him heah, or Juan did. Now, pard, it may be all right an’ then again it mayn’t. Are you shore aboot him?”

  “Blink, you make me see how I answer to some feeling that’s not practical,” returned Pan, much perturbed. “Mac was an outlaw in Montana. Maybe worse. Anyway I saved him one day from being strung up. That was on the Powder River, when I was riding for Hurley’s X Y Z outfit. They were a hard lot. And Mac’s guilt wasn’t clear to me. Anyway, I got him out of a bad mess, on condition he’d leave the country.”

  “Ahuh! Wal, I see. But it’s a shore gamble he’s one of Hardman’s outfit now, same as Purcell.”

  “Reckon he was. But he got fired.”

  “Thet’s what he says.”

  “Blink, you advise me not to trust Mac New?” queried Pan dubiously.

  “I ain’t advisin’ nobody. If you want my opinion, I’d say, now I know what you done fer Mac New, thet he wouldn’t double-cross you. When it comes down under the skin there ain’t much difference between outlaws an’ other range men in a deal like thet.”

  “Well, I’ll trust him just because of that feeling I can’t explain,” returned Pan.

  He did not, however, forget the possible implication, and it hovered in his mind. It was after dark when Mac New and Brown rode into camp. Pan and the others were eating their supper.

  “We had to ride clean to the end of the valley to cross that wash,” said Brown. “It’s rough country. Horses all down low. Didn’t see so many, at that, until we rimmed around way up on this side.”

  “Fine. You couldn’t have pleased me more,” declared Pan. “Now Mac, what do you say?”

  “About this heah hoss huntin’?” queried Mac New.

  “Yes. Our prospects, I mean. You’ve chased wild horses.”

  “It’ll be most as bad as stealin’ hosses,” replied the outlaw, laconically. “Easy work an’ easy money.”

  “Say, you won’t think it’s easy work when you get to dragging cedars down that hill in the hot sun all day. I don’t know anything harder.”

  Early next morning the labor began and proceeded with the utmost dispatch. The slope resounded with the ring of axes. Pan’s father was a capital hand at chopping down trees, and he kept two horsemen dragging cedars at a lively rate. The work progressed rapidly, but the fence did not seem to grow in proportion.

  As Pan dragged trees out to the sloping valley floor, raising a cloud of dust, he espied a stallion standing on the nearest ridge, half a mile away. How wild and curious!

  “You better look sharp, you raw-boned sage eater!” called Pan.

  Twice more this same horse evinced intelligent curiosity. Pan could not see any signs of a band with him. But other wild horses showed at different points, none however so close as this gray black-spotted stallion. Blinky was sure this horse had not always been wild. Manifestly he knew the ways of his archenemy, man.

  With three cutters and three riders dragging cedars, allowing for a rest of an hour at noon the fence grew to a length of a quarter of a mile from the slope.

  “Not so good,” declared Pan, when they left off work for the day. “But that fence is high and thick. It will take an old stallion like that gray to break through it.”

  “Wal, my idee is thet we did grand,” replied Blinky, wiping his sweaty face. “Besides all the choppin’ and haulin’ Gus found time to kill a deer.”

  It was a tired, sweaty and dust-begrimed party of hunters that descended upon Lying Juan for supper. After their hearty meal they gathered round the campfire to smoke and talk. This night Mac New joined the group, and though he had nothing to say he listened attentively and appeared to fit in more. Pan was aware of how the former outlaw watched him. The conversation, of course, centered round the plan and execution of work, and especially the wonderful drive they expected to make. If they could have at once started the drive, it would have been over and done with before their interest had time to grow intense. But the tremendous task of preparation ahead augmented the anticipation and thrill of that one day when they must ride like the wind.

  Next day they did not go back to the fence, but worked at the gateway on the blind corrals. Pan constructed the opening to resemble a narrow aisle of scrub oak. Material for this they cut from the bluff and slid it down to the level. By sunset one corral had been almost completed. It was large enough to hold a thousand horses. One third of it was fenced by the bluff.

  Two more days were required to build the second blind corral, which was larger, and though it opened from the first it did not run along the bluff. As this one was intended for chasing and roping horses, as well as simply holding them, the fence was made an almost impenetrable mass of thick foliaged cedars reinforced, where necessary, with stuffings of scrub-oak brush. Pan was so particular that he tried to construct a barrier which did not have sharp projecting spikes of dead branches sticking out to cut a horse.

  “By gum, I shore don’t believe you ever was a regular cowpuncher,” declared Blinky testily, after having been ordered to do additional labor on a portion of the fence.

  “Blink, we’re dealing with horses, not cows,” answered Pan.

  “But, good Lord, man, a cow is as feelin’ as a hoss any day,” protested Blinky.

  “You’ll be swearing you love cows next,” laughed Pan. “Nope. We’ll do our work well. Then the chances are we won’t spike any of those thoroughbreds we want to break for Arizona.”

  “Say, I’ll bet two bits you won’t let us sell a single gosh-darned broomie,” added Blinky.

  “Go to bed, Blink,” rejoined Pan, in pretended compassion. “You’re all in. This isn’t moonshining wild horses.”

  In the succeeding days Pan paced up the work, from dawn until dark. A week more saw the long fence completed. It was an obstacle few horses could leap. Pan thought he would love to see the stallion that could do it.

  Following the completion of the fence, they built a barrier across the wash. And then to make doubly sure Pan divided his party into three couples, each with instructions to close all possible exits along the branches of the wash,
and the sides of the slope.

  During the latter part of this work, the bands of wild horses moved farther westward. But as far as Pan could tell, none left the valley. They had appeared curious and wary, then had moved out of sight over the ridges in the center of the great oval.

  The night that they finished, with two weeks of unremitting toil in dust and heat behind them, was one for explosive satisfaction.

  “Fellars, my pard Panhandle is one to tie to,” declared Blinky, “but excoose me from ridin’ any range where he was foreman.”

  “Blink, you’ll soon be cowboy, foreman, boss—the whole outfit on your own Arizona ranch.”

  “Pard, I’ll shore drink to thet, if anybody’s got any licker.”

  If there were any other bottles in the camp, Mac New’s was the only one that came to light. It was passed around.

  “Now, men, listen,” began Pan when they had found comfortable seats around the campfire. “It’s all over but the shouting—and the riding. You listen too, Juan, for you’ve got to fork a horse and drive with us. As soon as it’s light enough to see, we’ll take the fresh horses we’ve been saving and ride across the valley. It’s pretty long around, but I want to come up behind all these bands of wild horses. Pack your guns and all the shells you’ve got. We’ll take stands at the best place, which we’ll decide from the location of the horses. Reckon that’ll be about ten miles west. You’ll all see when we get there how the neck of the valley narrows down till it’s not very wide. Maybe a matter of two miles of level ground, with breaks running toward each slope. We’ll string across this, equal distances apart and begin our drive. If we start well and don’t let any horses break our line, we’ll soon get them going and then each band will drive with us. Ride like hell, shoot and yell your head off to turn back any horses that charge to get between us. Soon as we get a few hundred moving, whistling, trampling and raising the dust, that’ll frighten the bands ahead. They’ll begin to move before they see us. Naturally as the valley widens we’ve got to spread. But if we once get a wide scattering string of horses running ahead of us we needn’t worry about being separated. When we get them going strong, there’ll be a stampede. Sure a lot of horses will fool us one way or another, but we ought to chase half the number on this side of the valley clear to our fence. That’ll turn them toward the gate to the blind corrals. We’ll close in there, and that’ll take riding, my buckaroos!”

  Blinky was the most obstreperously responsive to Pan’s long harangue. Pan thought he understood the secret of the cowboy’s strange elation. After all, what did Blinky care for horses or money? He had been a homeless wandering range rider, a hard-drinking reckless fellow with few friends, and those only for the hour of the length of a job. The success of this venture, if it turned out so, meant that Blinky would do the one big act of his life. He would take the girl Louise from her surroundings, give her a name that was honest and a love that was great, and rise or fall with her. Pan had belief in human nature. In endless ways his little acts of faith had borne fruit.

  The hunters stayed up later than usual, and had to be reminded twice by Pan of the strenuous morrow.

  When Pan made for his own bed Mac New followed him in the darkness.

  “Smith, I’d like a word with you,” said the outlaw, under his breath. His eyes gleamed out of his dark face.

  “Sure, Mac, glad to hear you,” replied Pan, not without a little shock.

  “I’ve stuck on heah, haven’t I?” queried Mac New.

  “You sure have. I wouldn’t ask a better worker. And if the drive is all I hope for, I’ll double your money.”

  “Wal, I didn’t come with you on my own hook,” rejoined the other, hurriedly. “Leastways it wasn’t my idee. Hardman got wind of your hoss-trappin’ scheme. Thet was after he’d fired me without my wages. Then he sent fer me, an’ he offered me gold to get a job with you an’ keep him posted if you ketched any big bunch of hosses.”

  Here the outlaw clinked the gold coin in his coat pocket.

  “I took the gold, an’ said I’d do it,” went on Mac New deliberately. “But I never meant to double-cross you, an’ I haven’t. Reckon I might have told you before. It jest didn’t come, though, till tonight.”

  “Thanks, Mac,” returned Pan, extending his hand to the outlaw. “I wasn’t afraid to trust you… Hardman’s playing a high hand, then?”

  “Reckon he is, an’ thet’s a hunch.”

  “All right, Mac. I’m thinking you’re square with me,” replied Pan.

  After the outlaw left, Pan sat on his bed pondering this latest aspect of the situation. Mac New’s revelation was what Pan would have expected of such a character. Bad as he was, he seemed a white man compared with this underhanded greedy Hardman. Even granting Hardman’s gradual degeneration, Pan could not bring himself to believe the man would attempt any open crooked deal. Still this attempt to bribe Mac New had a dubious look. Pan did not like it. If his wild horse expedition had not reached the last day he would have sent Blinky back to Marco or have gone himself to see if Hardman’s riders could be located. But it was too late. Pan would not postpone the drive, come what might.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  At last the cold night wind reminded Pan that he had not yet rolled in his blankets, which he had intended to do until Mac New’s significant statement had roused somber misgiving. He went to bed, yet despite the exertions of the long day, slumber was a contrary thing that he could not woo.

  He lay under the transparent roof of a makeshift shelter of boughs through which the stars showed white and brilliant. For ten years and more he had lain out on most nights under the open sky, with wind and rain and snow working their will on him, and the bright stars, like strange eyes, watching him. During the early years of his range life he used to watch the stars in return and wonder what was their message. And now, since his return home, he seemed so much closer to his beloved boyhood. Tonight the stars haunted him. Over the ridge tops a few miles, they were shining in the window of Lucy’s tiny room, perhaps lighting her fair face. It seemed that these stars were telling him all was not well in Lucy’s mind and heart. He could not shake the insidious vague haunting thought, and longed for dawn, so that in the sunlight he could dispel all morbid doubts and the shadows that came in the night.

  So for hours he lay there, absorbed in mind. It was not so silent a night as usual. The horses were restless, as if some animal were prowling about. He could hear the sudden trampling of hoofs as a number of horses swiftly changed their location. The coyotes were in full chorus out in the valley. A cold wind fitfully stirred the branches, whipped across his face. One of his comrades, Blinky he thought, was snoring heavily.

  Pan grew unaccountably full of dread of unknown things. His sensitive mind had magnified the menace hinted at by Mac New. It was a matter of feeling which no intelligent reasoning could dispel. Midnight came before he finally dropped into restless slumber.

  At four o’clock Lying Juan called the men to get up. He had breakfast almost ready. With groans and grunts and curses the hunters rolled out, heavy with sleep, stiff of joints, vacant of mind. Blinky required two calls.

  They ate in the cold gray dawn, silent and glum. A hot breakfast acted favorably upon their mental and physical make-ups, and some brisk action in catching and saddling horses brought them back to normal. Still there was not much time for talk.

  The morning star was going down in an intense dark blue sky when the seven men rode out upon their long-planned drive. The valley was a great obscure void, gray, silent, betraying nothing of its treasure to the hunters. They crossed the wash below the fence, where they had dug entrance and exit, and turned west at a brisk trot. Daylight came lingeringly. The valley cleared of opaque light. Like a gentle rolling sea it swept away to west and north, divided by its thin dark line, and faintly dotted by bands of wild horses.

  In the eastern sky, over the far low gap where the valley failed, the pink light deepened to rose, and then to red. A disk of golden fire tipped th
e bleak horizon. The whole country became transformed as if with life. The sun had risen on this memorable day for Pan Smith and his father, and for Blinky Somers. Nothing of the black shadows and doubts and fears of night! Pan could have laughed at himself in scorn. Here was the sunrise. How beautiful the valley! There were the wild horses grazing near and far, innumerable hundreds and thousands of them. The thought of the wonderful drive gripped Pan in thrilling fascination. Horses! Horses! Horses! The time, the scene, the impending ride called to him as nothing ever had. The thrilling capture of wild horses would alone have raised him to the heights. How much more tremendous, then, an issue that meant a chance of happiness for all his loved ones.

  It was seven o’clock when Pan and his men reached the western elevation of the valley, something over a dozen miles from their fence and trap. From this vantage point Pan could sweep the whole country with far-sighted eyes. What he saw made them glisten.

  Wild horses everywhere, like dots of brush on a bare green rolling prairie!

  “Boys, we’ll ride down the valley now and pick a place where we split to begin the drive,” said Pan.

  “Hosses way down there look to me like they was movin’ this way,” observed Blinky, who had eyes like a hawk.

  Pan had keen eyes, too, but he did not believe his could compare with Blinky’s. That worthy had the finest of all instruments of human vision—clear light-gray eyes, like that of an eagle. Dark eyes were not as far-seeing on range and desert as the gray or blue. And it was a fact that Pan had to ride down the valley a mile or more before he could detect a movement of wild horses toward him.

  “Wal, reckon mebbe thet don’t mean nothin’,” said Blinky. “An’ then agin mebbe it does. Hosses run around a lot of their own accord. An’ agin they get scared of somethin’. If we run into some bunches haidin’ this way we’ll turn them back an’ thet’s work for us.”

  Pan called a halt there, and after sweeping his gaze over all the valley ahead, he said: “We split here.… Mac, you and Brown ride straight toward the slope. Mac, take a stand a half mile or so out. Brown, you go clear to the slope and build a fire so we can see your smoke. Give us five minutes, say, to see your smoke, and then start the drive. Reckon we’ll hold our line all right till they get to charging us. And when we close in down there by the gate it’ll be every man for himself. I’ll bet it’ll be a stampede.”