Sunset Pass

by Zane Grey

  Rock was admitted to a cheerful library, and the presence of Dabb and Lincoln.

  “Howdy, Rock! Get down an’ come in,” was Dabb’s greeting. “Glad you came early. . . . Tom, you remember True Rock, don’t you?”

  Lincoln was a little gray withered cattleman, bright of eye, lean of face, not apparently a day older than when Rock had last seen him. He looked like a Texas Ranger, and had been one in his day.

  “I shore do,” replied Lincoln, extending a lean hand. “Howdy, Rock! Do you remember when you first come to Wagontongue an’ got sweet on my girl? An’ I chased you out of the yard one night?”

  “No, Mr. Lincoln, I don’t remember, but you’re probably right,” replied Rock, joining in the laugh on him.

  “Well, Tom, his girl-chasin’ days are over. Sit down, friends, an’ smoke while I talk,” said Dabb. “I’ve got two more fellows comin’ after dinner, an’ we’ll have a little game of draw after. . . . Now, Rock, I’ve talked your trouble over with Tom, an’ here’s his angle. I’m bound to say I think it a solution to a nasty problem. At that it hinges most on you. . . . Go back to Preston an’ tell him the truth. That he’s found out by some cattlemen, an’ he must quit his butcherin’ stolen cattle before Hesbitt gets on to him. Tell him he’s to come before the Cattle Association. That means Tom an’ me, an’ Hesbitt, sure, but we can handle him. We’ll keep the deal out of court an’ Preston out of jail, provided he comes to us, pays Slagle off, an’ squares Hesbitt for the stock he has lost. Then Preston, an’ his four sons, especially this Ash Preston, who’s the ringleader, no doubt, must leave the country.”

  “Wonderful fair and fine of you gentlemen,” returned Rock, instantly, his set face breaking. “Reckon I couldn’t find words to thank you. I won’t try. Preston doesn’t deserve this. Sure it is generous.”

  “Wal, Rock, it’s aboot this heah way,” put in Lincoln, with his slow Southern accent. “We shore can afford to be generous because Preston hasn’t stole from us. Then we don’t want the range slandered by such a raw case. Who’d ever think the Prestons would stoop to that? Mrs. Preston is a nice woman and the girls are ladies. Shore they cain’t be in the secret. We’d like to keep Preston out of jail for their sake.”

  “All right, Rock. What do you say?” queried Dabb, as if in a hurry to get it over. “Will you settle it?”

  “Yes, with one reservation,” replied Rock, grimly.

  “An’ what’s that?”

  “I can manage Preston. But when Ash finds out, he’ll fight. He can’t be persuaded or frightened.”

  “Shore. An’ your reservation is you’ll have to kill him,” interposed the imperturbable Texan as he flicked the ashes off his cigar, his bright eyes on Rock.

  Rock did not make any reply.

  “Darn tough on the girl. My wife says she loves this particular brother,” added Dabb, regretfully.

  “Reckon it’s tougher on Rock, but quien sabe? You shore cain’t ever tell aboot a woman,” rejoined Lincoln.

  “We’ll go in to dinner,” said Dabb, opening the door. “Rock, how’d you like a little poker afterward?”

  “I’d like it fine,” replied Rock, shaking off a cold black spell, and fetching a laugh, as they went out. “That is, if the limit is worth while.”

  “See heah, cowboy, the limit in Dabb’s house is the roof,” drawled Lincoln.

  “I’ll hate to take your money, gentlemen,” responded Rock, “but a chance like this seldom comes along for me.”

  CHAPTER

  FOURTEEN

  BEFORE sundown of another day Rock reined his sweating horse in front of Slagle’s cabin, and dismounted to approach that individual, who, probably having heard him, had come to the door.

  “Slagle, I want to talk Dutch to you,” said Rock, without any greeting.

  “Thought you looked kinda serious. Any trouble brewin’—er happened?” returned Slagle, permitting Rock to lead him aside.

  “Dabb told me you’d come to him with proof of Preston’s guilt.”

  “The devil he did!” ejaculated Slagle.

  “Yes, and my business with you is to buy your silence.”

  Slagle showed further amazement and interest. He listened intensely to Rock’s story.

  “Say, cowboy, air you makin’ this offer on your own hook?” he queried.

  “Sure. I told only Sol Winter, who had my money banked.”

  “What on earth fer? Rock, excuse me, fer appearin’ to insinuate. But it looks darn queer.”

  “Jess, I’m honest. I’m not in on the Preston steal, and you sure know that. I’m tryin’ to stall the thing off. Now I figure you as pretty sore, and I don’t blame you.”

  “You ain’t makin’ no mistake there,” growled Slagle.

  “Well, what’ll you take to keep mum?”

  “Rock, this hyar don’t set right on me. Lord knows I need money, but I ain’t so low down I’d take a cowboy’s savin’s. What’s your idee? You shore can’t care thet much about Preston.”

  “Jess, you’re wastin’ my time,” replied Rock, impatiently. “I love Thiry Preston and I’m goin’ to save her dad because of that.”

  “I savvy. Shore call it decent of you. Makes me want to act square with you. An’ the fact is, Rock, I couldn’t prove anythin’ on Preston now.”

  “Why not?”

  “The Half Moon hides have been moved from where I found them.”

  “You don’t say? Where was that?”

  “Over the next hill hyar, under thet big culvert.”

  “Well, no matter. You did find them, and your word would convince ranchers, if not a court. My offer stands. What’ll you take?”

  “Rock, hev you got backin’?”

  “No. I’ve my own money. Cash!”

  “How much you got?”

  “Five thousand.”

  “Whar’d you ever get thet much?—Rock, I’m afeared you must ’a’ been a road-agent somewhere,” he said, jocularly, and he paced up and down thoughtfully. “Wal, I hate to take you up, Rock, an’ I wouldn’t if I didn’t feel shore you’ll get it back, or some, anyhow. Say I take half of what you got—twenty-five hundred. Preston will have to pay you. An’, Rock, I’ll pack an’ rustle out of hyar pronto.”

  “You’ll leave the range?”

  “You bet. An’ darn glad to.”

  “That’s fine, and better. It may be a long time till somebody else gets proof on Preston. And it’s time I’m gamblin’ on. . . . Here’s your money, Jess. I’m askin’ two promises.”

  “Ahuh! What are they?” queried the homesteader, his eyes popping at the roll of greenbacks.

  “Keep Preston’s secret and don’t get drunk before you leave.”

  “Reckon thet’s easy. Rock, I’m much obliged to you. I’ve got another chance in life.”

  “I hope you’ll be successful,” returned Rock, stepping over to his horse and mounting. Slagle followed him, and laid a red-haired hand on Rock’s chaps. His eyes held a scintillating prophetic light.

  “Rock, I’d be willin’ to bet all this hyar money, five to one, thet if you save Gage Preston, you’ll hev to kill Ash.”

  Spurring Egypt sharply, Rock swore lustily at the vindictive homesteader and galloped away.

  Though Rock put the white horse to a finish that concluded a wonderful day’s travel, it was well after dark when they reached the Pass. Lights were burning in all the Preston cabins. At the barn Rock encountered one of the Mexican lads, and turned Egypt over to him. With that he stalked back through the grove. Peering into the kitchen door, he espied Mrs. Preston and Alice and Lucy at their evening chores.

  “Howdy, folks! Is it too late for a bite and a cup of coffee? I’ve had nothin’ since yesterday. Starved isn’t the word!”

  “Why, Mr. Rock, you sure look it,” replied Alice, gayly.

  “Cowboy, it’s never too late in this chuck-house,” returned Mrs. Preston. “Come in and sit down.”

  Heavy boot thuds out on the porch attested to the approach of men. Roc
k certainly did not keep his back to the door.

  “Who come in, Ma?” queried Preston, outside.

  “A poor starved cowpuncher,” replied his wife.

  “Dad, it’s only Mr. Rock,” added Alice, quickly, with a knowing glance at Trueman.

  Outside some one violently slapped what sounded like a pair of gloves on the table.

  “Pa, didn’t I tell ye?” growled Ash Preston’s unmistakable voice. “Thet hombre can’t keep away from Thiry————!”

  Footfalls, sharp and quick, rang off the porch to thud on the ground. Silence ensued. Rock turned to the women. Mrs. Preston had her head bent over her stove, but Alice’s eyes met Rock’s, flashing, intelligent, resentful. Then Preston’s dragging steps approached. The doorway framed his burly form.

  “Howdy, boss!” greeted Rock.

  “Back so soon? Reckoned you’d stay out your leave,” replied the rancher, with gloomy penetrating gaze on Rock.

  “I rustled back,” said Rock, meaningly.

  “Bad news?”

  “Reckon all I got is good.”

  “Ahuh. . . . Wal, come in, soon as you want to,” concluded Preston.

  Alice and her mother set before Rock a bounteous meal and while he gave ample evidence of appreciating it, they asked questions about the town. Rock imparted all the information he could muster.

  “Oh yes, I near forgot,” he added, presently, with a wink at Alice. “Yesterday I run into your beau, Charlie. He shore pumped me about you.”

  “My beau! Trueman Rock, I—I— He’s not that,” exclaimed Alice, blushing furiously. The mother’s quick look was not lost on Rock.

  “Excuse me, Allie. I just naturally thought he was, from the way he talked. Sure does need two to make a beau, doesn’t it?”

  “Certainly it does,” returned Alice, and behind her mother’s back she gave Rock an eloquent glance, accompanied by the motion from a threatening little fist. Rock opened both mouth and eyes, in remorseful enlightenment, then went on with his meal. Mrs. Preston had occasion to go out the back door.

  “You wretch!” whispered Alice. “Mother thinks I’m too young. . . . And I’m crazy to go to that next dance.”

  “I’m sure stupid, Allie. . . . Lucky boy! . . . Heigho! I wish I could go.”

  “Can’t we all, Trueman?—Thiry spoke of it today,” Alice bent close to Rock’s ear. “She’s crazy about you.”

  “Allie—you wretch! It can’t be true.”

  “It is so.”

  “Aw! How can you think that way?”

  “I accused her of being.”

  Rock leaned closer to the tempting lips, as if they were dispensing music.

  “Well?”

  “Thiry denied it. But she got red as fire—then mad.”

  The entrance of Mrs. Preston put an end to this whispered exchange. Soon afterward Rock strode out to seek Preston. On the porch he halted, and gazing out at the spectral pines and up at the blinking stars, and across the thick void toward Thiry’s bright window, he called on all the passion and wisdom that might come through hope and prayer. The moment he confronted Preston the climax of this situation would have been set in motion.

  “Rock, you didn’t break any laigs gettin’ hyar with thet good news,” growled Preston, as Rock entered.

  “Reckon you won’t be r’arin’ for me to hurry, after I start,” replied Rock, closing the door and facing the rancher with intent unmasked gaze. “Preston, not a whisper of what I say must be heard by anyone but you.”

  “Come close then, an’ talk low.”

  Whereupon Rock drew a chair up to Preston’s, and eying him squarely, whispered:

  “Preston, the jig’s up!”

  “What you mean?” hoarsely rejoined the rancher, as if shot through with something that froze his vitals He knew! It was only an outburst.

  “You’re found out.”

  “What’s found out?”

  “Your butcherin’ stolen cattle.”

  “Who knows?”

  “Slagle found Half Moon hides under that culver[illegible]? above his place. He told John Dabb. Dabb told Tom Lincoln. Then me.”

  Preston’s eyes set with greenish glare; his face, too, took on a greenish-white cast and otherwise changed grotesquely.

  “My Gawd!” And as if to shut out the revealing light he covered his face with nerveless hands.

  Rock’s first thrill came with the rancher’s reception of this news. It augured well. But he let the revelation sink deep. He waited.

  At length Preston lifted his haggard countenance.

  “How can Slagle prove thet—on me?”

  “He can’t. The hides were there, and now they’ve been moved.”

  “Ahuh. Wal, then, I’ll deny everythin’ an fight them.”

  “Gage, I can prove you guilty,” whispered Rock.

  “You can? . . . How?” returned Preston, with solemn glaring eyes.

  “Ash’s tracks. I trailed them. I measured them. I got his boot track here in the corral. I saw that same track leadin’ down to the culvert and under it. I compared them. I ripped open one of those burlap sacks. The Half Moon brand!”

  “Ash!” And the hissed word was a curse.

  “Yes. You’ve split on Ash Preston.”

  The big hands clenched, and opened wide, and plucked at the grizzled locks.

  “Rock, you wouldn’t ruin me?”

  “No.”

  “An’ you shore couldn’t break Thiry’s heart?”

  “Do you need to ask?”

  “Does anyone else have the proofs on me—like you?”

  “No, not yet. But I’m not the only trailer on this range. Somebody will trail your sons, as I did Ash. If you don’t stop them!”

  “Ha! Then it ain’t too late?” he queried, huskily, and the corded veins in his neck bulged, his temples throbbed and reddened.

  “No.”

  What a rasping breath escaped the broad chest!

  “Does anybody else suspect—beside the four you named?”

  “Hesbitt’s outfits are scourin’ the range. They suspect. But they don’t know. Reckon sooner or later they’ll hit on somethin’. Old sign. It might not convict, but it’d ruin you just the same. And any fresh sign—Preston, you’ll all go to jail!”

  “Rock, are you comin’ in with me—an’ Ash—an’ Thiry?” asked Preston.

  “I’m in with you and Thiry now. Not Ash. . . . But clean and honest, Preston. I’ve laid my cards before Dabb and Lincoln. They know me. I couldn’t be crooked now—not to save your life and Thiry’s happiness.”

  “Ahuh!—What’s the deal?”

  “If you’ll agree to what I lay before you we can stall off the worst.”

  “What you mean by worst?”

  “Ruin for your family. Jail for your sons. Perhaps bloodshed.”

  “Ha! thet last is shore as hell with Ash in it. . . . Rock, I get a hunch you’ve been workin’ to ward off this ruin. Fer Thiry’s sake?”

  “Naturally I think of Thiry first,” went on Rock, with deep emotion, warming to the impending argument. “But also I’m thinkin’ of her mother and sisters—and the boys who’re as innocent as they are. In fact for all of you.”

  “Can you save us? Not countin’ Ash. He’s outside of any deal. An’ on him we’ll stumble. Through Ash will come this worst you harp on.”

  “Listen,” whispered Rock, bursting with his message. “I’ve shut Slagle’s mouth. I’ve bought his silence. He’s leavin’ the range.”

  “Lord Almighty! . . . How’d you do it? What’d you give him?”

  “Twenty-five hundred dollars.”

  Preston whistled low. “Of all the fellars I ever seen, you— Rock, I’m goin’ to square thet with you.”

  “Sure you are. You’re goin’ to square it all. . . . Listen. Come to town with me. I’ve got it all fixed. Dabb will call a meetin’ of the Cattle Association council. That means him, Lincoln, and Hesbitt. To keep this out of court you will agree to pay Hesbitt for his Hal
f Moon stock. Dabb and Lincoln have promised me they’ll handle Hesbitt. It will all be done in secret. Then you and your sons who were in this deal must leave the country.”

  “Fair enough, but I reckon I’d rather fight.”

  “Preston, don’t let pride and anger blind you. By fightin’ you will lose your golden chance. We all believe Ash roped you into this butcherin’ stolen cattle.”

  “He shore did. He was killin’ stolen steers long before I ever knew. Then it was too late to stop hint An’ I drifted in myself. All so easy! Only a few head of stock at a time! Nobody could ever guess! An’ now . . . Rock, I’d almost as lief croak as face thet council. They might let me off, but they’d tell. It’d leak out.”

  “Preston, you’re not thinkin’ clear. You don’t see this right. Straight out you’ve fallen to worse than rustlin’. If you don’t take this chance—for the sake of your womenfolk—you’ll ruin them. And you’ll be as bad as Ash. You’re no fool. I’d say, if it weren’t for your wife and daughters, you should quit this crooked work and fight the whole range. If you met up with a bullet, well and good. . . . But you’re not alone. You’ve got wife to think of—daughters, innocent boys. . . . By Heaven! Preston, I can’t let you ruin Thiry. She’s guilty now, to some extent, for she shares your guilty secret. Ash would drag her with him.”

  “He shore will—unless you kill him!” muttered this implacable father.

  “But if I do—Thiry will hate me,” replied Rock.

  “Mebbe she would. We Prestons shore can hate, but we don’t change from love to hate.”

  “D—— you, Preston,” fumed Rock. “I’ve had a feelin’ more than once that you’d not stop me from drawin’ on Ash.”

  “Hell, no! An’ you would have long ago if you’d had the guts you once was noted fer. . . . But Thiry has got you locoed. . . . Come in with us, Rock. We’ll fight this deal, sell out, an’ go to Arizona or Utah.”

  “No!” replied Rock, fiercely.

  “Wal, then, I’ll think your idee over good an’ hard. Rock, my not acceptin’ it pronto doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate your wonderful offer an’ all thet prompts you. I shore do. It may be the best way to save them. But the wife—Thiry, Allie, Lucy—they’d have to know, an’ I’d almost shore rather die in my boots than tell them.”