by Zane Grey
The need of that scarcely had to be dwelt on, for the instant Gus and Blinky cut loose a poor traveler, he made a wild dash for liberty. But he ran right into a hateful lasso. This one let out a piercing whistle.
All the time the riders were moving the bunch forward down into flat country between gray brushy hills. Evidently this wide pass opened into a larger valley. The travel was mostly over level ground, which facilitated the progress.
It took two men to lasso a horse, hold his ears, cut the rope round his legs, release the noose on his neck and let him go. They could not afford to lose any precious second over this job. Time was too badly needed.
The parade, as Blinky had called it, made only a few miles an hour, and sometimes this advance was not wholly in the right direction. Nevertheless the hours seemed to fly. There was no rest for horses or men. The afternoon had begun to wane before the horses had all made up their minds that fighting and plunging was of no avail. Weary, exhausted, suffering from the bound up legs, they at last surrendered. Whereupon Blinky and Gus cut their feet loose. Sometimes the whole bunch would have to be held up for one horse that, upon release, could not use his freed foot. Pan had an idea the horses did not want that tried on them twice. They showed intelligence. This method was not breeding the horses for saddle and bridle, which was of course the main consideration to come, but it certainly tamed them. It was a little too cruel for Pan to favor.
“Wal, we’ll shore be lucky if we make Snyder’s pasture tonight,” remarked Blinky. “No hope of makin’ Marco.”
Pan had never expected to do so, and therefore was not disappointed. His heart seemed so full and buoyant that he would not have minded more delay. Indeed he rode in the clouds.
The pass proved to be longer than it looked, but at last the drove of horses was headed into the wide flat country toward the west. And soon trail grew into road. The sunset dusk mantled the sweeping prairielike valley, and soon night fell, cool and windy. The wild horses slowed to a walk and had to be driven to do that. Pan felt that he shared their thirst.
When at about ten o’clock, Blinky espied through the gloom landmarks that indicated the pasture he was seeking, it was none too soon for Pan.
“Water an’ grass heah, but no firewood handy,” announced Blinky, as they turned the horses into the pasture. “Fellar named Snyder used to ranch heah. It didn’t pay. This little pasture is lucky fer us. I was heah not long ago. Good fence, an’ we can round up the bunch easy in the mawnin’.”
The weary riders unpacked the outfit, took a long deep drink of the cold water, and unrolling their tarps went supperless to bed. Pan’s eyes closed as if with glue and his thoughts wavered, faded.
Pan’s father was the first to get up, but already the sun was before him. Pan saw him limp around, and leave the pasture to return with an armful of fire wood.
“Pile out!” he yelled. “It’s Siccane, Arizona, or bust!”
One by one the boys rolled from their beds. Pan was the only one who had to pull on his boots. Somebody found soap and towel, which they fought over. The towel had not been clean before this onslaught. Afterward it was unrecognizable. Gus cooked breakfast which, judged from the attack upon it, was creditable to him.
“Wal, our hosses are heah,” said Blinky, cheerfully. “Reckon I was afeared they’d jump the fence. We may have a little hell on the start.”
“Blink, you don’t aim to tie up their feet again, do you?” inquired Pan anxiously.
“Nope. They had all they wanted of thet. Mebbe they’ll try to bust away first off. But our hosses are fresh, too. I’m gamblin’ in three hours we’ll have them in your dad’s corral.”
“Then we don’t have to drive through Marco?”
“Shore not. We’re on the main road thet passes your dad’s. Reckon it’s aboot eight miles or so.”
“Say, Blink, do we take this road on our way south to Siccane?”
“Yep. It’s the only road. You come in on it by stage. It runs north and south. Not very good road this way out of Marco.”
“Then, by golly, we can leave our new horses here,” exclaimed Pan gladly.
“Wal, I’ll be goldarned. Where’s my haid? Shore we can. It’s a first-rate pasture, plenty of water, an’ fair grass. But I’ll have to go in town, thet’s damn shore, you know. An’ we cain’t leave these hosses heah unguarded.”
“Gus, will you and Brown stay here? We’ll leave grub and outfit.”
Brown had to refuse, and explained that he was keen to get back to his mining claim, which he believed now he would be able to work.
“I’ll stay,” said Gus. “It’s a good idee. Workin’ with these hosses a day or two will get ’em fit to travel. An’ I reckon I’d like a job with you, far as Siccane anyway.”
“You’ve got it, and after we reach Siccane, too, if you want one,” replied Pan quickly.
The deal was settled to the satisfaction of all concerned.
“How aboot our pack hosses?” asked Blinky. “Course Charley will have to take his, but will we need ours? I mean will we have to pack them from heah?”
“No, all that stuff can go in the wagons,” replied Pan. “We’ll need three wagons, anyhow. Maybe more. Dad, how much of an outfit have you at home?”
“You saw it, son,” said Smith, with a laugh. “Mine would go in a saddlebag. But I reckon the women folks will have a wagon load.”
“Rustle. I’m ararin’ to go,” yelled Pan, striding out into the pasture to catch his horse. In the exuberance of the moment Pan would have liked to try conclusions with the white-footed stallion or the blue roan, but he could not spare the time. He led Sorrel back to camp and saddled him. Blinky and Pan’s father were also saddling their mounts.
“I’ll take it easy,” explained Charley Brown, who had made no move. “My claim is over here in the hills not very far.”
“Brown, I’m sorry you won’t go south with us,” said Pan warmly, as he shook hands with the miner. “You’ve sure been a help. And I’m glad we’ve—well, had something to do with removing the claim jumpers.”
As Pan rode out that morning on the sorrel, to face north on the road to Marco, he found it hard to contain himself. This hour was the very first in which he could let himself think of the glorious fulfillment of his dream.
His father was too lame to ride fast and Pan, much as he longed to rush, did not want to leave him behind. But it was utterly impossible for Pan to enter into the animated conversation carried on by his father and Blinky. They were talking wagons, teams, harness, grain, homesteads and what not. Pan rode alone, a little ahead of them.
Almost, he loved this wild and rugged land. But that was the ecstasy of the moment. This iron country was too cut up by mountains, with valleys too bare and waterless, to suit Pan. Not to include the rough and violent element of men attracted by gold!
Nevertheless on this bright autumn morning there was a glamour over valley and ridge, black slope and snowy peak, and the dim distant ranges. The sky was as blue as the inside of a columbine, a rich and beautiful light of gold gilded the wall of rock that boldly cropped out of the mountainside; and the wide sweeping expanse of sage lost itself in a deep purple horizon. Ravens and magpies crossed Pan’s glad eyesight. Jack rabbits bounded down the aisles between the sage bushes. Far out on the plain he descried antelope, moving away with their telltale white rumps. The air was sweet, intoxicating, full of cedar fragrance and the cool breath from off the heights.
While he saw and felt all this his mind scintillated with thoughts of Lucy Blake. He would see her presently, have the joy of surprising her into betrayal of love. He fancied her wide eyes of changing dark blue, and the swift flame of scarlet that so readily stained her neck and cheek.
He would tell her about the great good fortune that had befallen him; and about the beautiful mare, Little Bay, he had captured for her; and now they could talk and plan endlessly, all the way down to Siccane.
When would Lucy marry him? That was a staggering question. His heart
swelled to bursting. Had he the courage to ask her at once? He tried to see the matter from Lucy’s point of view, but without much success.
Dreaming thus, Pan rode along without being aware of the time or distance.
“Hey, pard,” called Blinky, in loud banter. “Are you goin’ to ride past where your gurl lives?”
With a violent start Pan wheeled his horse. He saw that he had indeed ridden beyond the entrance to a farm, which upon second look he recognized. It was, however, an angle with which he had not been familiar. The corrals and barn and house were hidden in trees.
“I’m loco, all right,” he replied with a little laugh.
Through gate and lane they galloped, on to the corral, and round that to the barn. This was only a short distance to the house. Pan leaped from his horse and ran.
With an uplift of his heart that was almost pain, he rushed round the corner of the house to the vine-covered porch.
The door was shut. Stealthily he tiptoed across the porch to knock. No answer! He tried the door. Locked! A quiver ran through him.
“Strange,” he muttered, “not home this early.”
He peered through the window, to see on floor and table ample evidence of recent packing. That gave check to a creeping blankness which was benumbing Pan. He went on to look into his mother’s bedroom. The bed looked as if it had been used during the night and had not been made up. Perhaps his mother and Lucy had gone into Marco to purchase necessities.
“But—didn’t I tell Lucy not to go?” he queried, in bewilderment.
Resolutely he cast out doubtful speculations. There could hardly be anything wrong. Hurriedly he returned to the barn.
“Wal, I’ll tell you,” Blinky was holding forth blandly, “this heah grubbin’ around without a home an’ a woman ain’t no good. I’m shore through. I’m agoin’—”
“Nobody home,” interrupted Pan.
“Well, that’s nothin’ to make you pale round the gills,” returned his father. “They’re gone to town. Mother had a lot of buyin’ to do.”
“But I particularly told Lucy to stay here.”
“S’pose you did,” interposed Blinky. “Thet’s nothin’. You don’t expect this heah gurl to mind you.”
“No time for joking, Blink,” said Pan curtly. “It just doesn’t set right on my chest. I’ve got to find Lucy pronto. But where to go!”
With a single step he reached his stirrup and swung into his saddle.
“Pan, Lucy an’ the wife will be in one of the stores. Don’t worry about them. Why, they did all our buyin’.”
“I tell you I don’t like it,” snapped Pan. “It’s not what I think, but what I feel. All the same, wherever they are it doesn’t change our plans. I’ll sure find them, and tell them we’re packing to leave pronto.…. Now, Dad, buy three wagons and teams, grain, grub, and whatever else we need for two weeks or more on the road. Soon as I find Lucy and Mother I’ll meet you and help you with the buying.”
“I ought to talk it over with Ma before I buy grub,” replied his father, perplexedly scratching his head. “I wish they was home.”
“Come on, Blink,” called Pan, as he rode out.
Blinky joined him out in the road.
“Pard, I don’t get your hunch, but I can see you’re oneasy.”
“I’m just loco, that’s all,” returned Pan, forcing himself. “It’s—such—such a disappointment not to see—her.… Made me nervous. Makes me think how anything might happen. I never trusted Jim Blake. And Lucy is only a kid in years.”
“Ahuh,” said Blinky, quietly. “Reckon I savvy. You wouldn’t feel thet way fer nothin’.”
“Blink, I’m damn glad you’re with me,” rejoined Pan feelingly, turning to face his comrade. “No use to bluff with you. I wish to heaven I could say otherwise, but I’m afraid there’s something wrong.”
“Shore. Wal, we’ll find out pronto,” replied Blinky, with his cool hard spirit, “an’ if there is, we’ll damn soon make it right.”
They rode rapidly until they reached the outskirts of town, when Blinky called Pan to a halt.
“Reckon you’d better not ride through Main Street,” he said significantly.
They tied their horses behind a clump of trees between two deserted shacks. Pan removed his ragged chaps, more however to be freer of movement than because they were disreputable.
“Now, Blink, we’ll know pronto if the town is friendly to us,” he said seriously.
“Huh! I ain’t carin’ a whoop, but I’ll gamble we could own the town. This fake minin’, ranchin’, hoss-dealin’ Hardman was a hunk of bad cheese. Pard, are you goin’ to deny you killed him? Fer shore they’ve been told thet.”
“No. Wiggate can do the telling. All I want is to find Lucy and send her back home, then buy our outfit and rustle.”
“Sounds pretty. But I begin to feel hunchy myself. Let’s have a drink, Pan.”
“We’re not drinking, cowboy,” retorted Pan.
“Ain’t we? Excuse me. Shore I figgered a good stiff drink would help some. I tell you I’ve begun to get hunches.”
“What kind?”
“No kind at all. Just feel that all’s not goin’ the way we hope. But it’s your fault. It’s the look you got. I’d hate to see you hurt deep, pard.”
They passed the wagon shop where Pan’s father had been employed, then a vacant lot on one side of the street and framed tents on the other. Presently they could see down the whole of Main Street. It presented the usual morning atmosphere and color, though Pan fancied there was more activity than usual. That might have been owing to the fact that both the incoming and outgoing stages were visible far up at the end of the street.
Pan strained his eyes at people near and far, seeking first some sign of Lucy, and secondly someone he could interrogate. Soon he would reach the first store. But before he got there he saw his mother emerge, drag Bobby, who evidently wanted to stay. Then Alice followed. Both she and her mother were carrying bundles. Pan’s heart made ready for a second and greater leap—in anticipation of Lucy’s appearance. But she did not come.
“Hello, heah’s your folks, pard, figgerin’ from looks,” said Blinky. “What a cute kid!… Look there!”
Pan, striding ahead of Blinky saw his mother turn white and reel as if about to faint. Pan got to her in time.
“Mother! Why, Mother,” he cried, in mingled gladness and distress. “It’s me. I’m all right. What’d you think?… Hello, Bobby, old dirty face… Alice, don’t stare at me. I’m here in the flesh.”
His mother clung to him with hands like steel. Her face and eyes were both terrible and wonderful to see. “Pan! Pan! You’re alive? Oh, thank God! They told us you’d been shot.”
“Me? Well, I guess not. I’m better than ever, and full of good news,” went on Pan hurriedly. “Brace up, Mother. People are looking. There… Dad is out home. We’ve got a lot to do. Where’s Lucy?”
“Oh, God—my son, my son!” cried Mrs. Smith, her eyes rolling.
“Hush!” burst out Pan, with a shock as if a blade had pierced his heart. He shook her not gently. “Where is Lucy?”
His mother seemed impelled by his spirit, and she wheeled to point up the street.
“Lucy! There—in that stage—leaving Marco!”
“For God’s—sake!” gasped Pan. “What’s this? Lucy! Where’s she going?”
“Ask her yourself,” she cried passionately.
Something terrible seemed to crash inside Pan. Catastrophe! It was here. His mother’s dark eyes held love, pity, and passion, which last was not for him.
“Mother, go home at once,” he said swiftly. “Tell Dad to rush buying those wagons. You and Alice pack. We shake the dust of this damned town. Don’t worry. Lucy will leave with us!”
Then Pan broke into long springy strides, almost a run. Indeed Blinky had to run to keep up with him. “I told you, pard,” said his comrade. huskily. “Hell to pay! —— —— the luck!”
Pan had only one conscious thoug
ht—to see Lucy. All else seemed damming behind flood gates.
People rushed into the street to get out of the way of the cowboys. Others stared and made gestures. Booted men on the porch of the Yellow Mine stamped noisily as they trooped to get inside. Voices of alarm and mirth rang out. Pan took only a fleeting glance into the wide doorway. He saw nothing, thought nothing. His stride quickened as he passed Black’s store, where more men crowded to get inside.
“Save your—wind, pard,” warned Blinky. “You might—need it.”
They reached the end of the street and across the wide square stood the outgoing stage, before the express office. There was no driver on the front seat. Smith, the agent, was emerging from the office with mailbags.
“Slow up, pard,” whispered Blinky, at Pan’s elbow.
Pan did as he was advised, though his stride still retained speed. Impossible to go slowly! There were passengers in the stagecoach. When Pan reached the middle of the street he saw the gleam of golden hair that he knew. Lucy! Her back was turned to him. And as he recognized her, realized he had found her, there burst forth in his mind a thundering clamor of questioning voices.
A few more strides took him round the stage. Men backed away from him. The door was open.
“Lucy!” he called, and his voice seemed to come piercingly from a far-off place.
She turned a strange face, but he knew her eyes, saw the swift transition, the darkening, widening. How white she turned! What was this! Agony in recognition! A swift unuttered blaze of joy that changed terror. He saw her lips frame his name, but no sound came.
“Lucy!” he cried. “What does this mean? Where are you going?”
She could not speak. But under her pallor the red of shame began to burn. Pan saw it, and he recognized it. Mutely he gazed at the girl as her head slowly sank. Then he asked hoarsely: “What’s it mean?”
“Pard, take a peep round heah,” drawled Blinky in slow cool speech that seemed somehow to carry menace.
Pan wheeled. He had the shock of his life. He received it before his whirling thoughts recorded the reason. It was as if he had to look twice. Dick Hardman! Fashionably and wonderfully attired! Pan got no farther than sight of the frock coat, elaborate vest, flowing tie, and high hat. Then for a second he went blind.