by Zane Grey
XVII
THE WHISTLE OF A HORSE
AT the ranch-house at Forlorn River Belding stood alone in his darkenedroom. It was quiet there and quiet outside; the sickening midsummerheat, like a hot heavy blanket, lay upon the house.
He took up the gun belt from his table and with slow hands buckled itaround his waist. He seemed to feel something familiar and comfortableand inspiring in the weight of the big gun against his hip. He facedthe door as if to go out, but hesitated, and then began a slow,plodding walk up and down the length of the room. Presently he haltedat the table, and with reluctant hands he unbuckled the gun belt andlaid it down.
The action did not have an air of finality, and Belding knew it. He hadseen border life in Texas in the early days; he had been a sheriff whenthe law in the West depended on a quickness of wrist; he had seen manya man lay down his gun for good and all. His own action was not final.Of late he had done the same thing many times and this last time itseemed a little harder to do, a little more indicative of vacillation.There were reasons why Belding's gun held for him a gloomy fascination.
The Chases, those grasping and conscienceless agents of a new force inthe development of the West, were bent upon Belding's ruin, and so faras his fortunes at Forlorn River were concerned, had almostaccomplished it. One by one he lost points for which he contended withthem. He carried into the Tucson courts the matter of the stakedclaims, and mining claims, and water claims, and he lost all.Following that he lost his government position as inspector ofimmigration; and this fact, because of what he considered itsinjustice, had been a hard blow. He had been made to suffer ahumiliation equally as great. It came about that he actually had topay the Chases for water to irrigate his alfalfa fields. Thenever-failing spring upon his land answered for the needs of householdand horses, but no more.
These matters were unfortunate for Belding, but not by any means whollyaccountable for his worry and unhappiness and brooding hate. Hebelieved Dick Gale and the rest of the party taken into the desert bythe Yaqui had been killed or lost. Two months before a string ofMexican horses, riderless, saddled, starved for grass and wild forwater, had come in to Forlorn River. They were a part of the horsesbelonging to Rojas and his band. Their arrival complicated the mysteryand strengthened convictions of the loss of both pursuers and pursued.Belding was wont to say that he had worried himself gray over the fateof his rangers.
Belding's unhappiness could hardly be laid to material loss. He hadbeen rich and was now poor, but change of fortune such as that couldnot have made him unhappy. Something more somber and mysterious andsad than the loss of Dick Gale and their friends had come into thelives of his wife and Nell. He dated the time of this change back to acertain day when Mrs. Belding recognized in the elder Chase an oldschoolmate and a rejected suitor. It took time for slow-thinkingBelding to discover anything wrong in his household, especially as thefact of the Gales lingering there made Mrs. Belding and Nell, for themost part, hide their real and deeper feelings. Gradually, however,Belding had forced on him the fact of some secret cause for grief otherthan Gale's loss. He was sure of it when his wife signified her desireto make a visit to her old home back in Peoria. She did not give manyreasons, but she did show him a letter that had found its way from oldfriends. This letter contained news that may or may not have beenauthentic; but it was enough, Belding thought, to interest his wife.An old prospector had returned to Peoria, and he had told relatives ofmeeting Robert Burton at the Sonoyta Oasis fifteen years before, andthat Burton had gone into the desert never to return. To Belding thiswas no surprise, for he had heard that before his marriage. Thereappeared to have been no doubts as to the death of his wife's firsthusband. The singular thing was that both Nell's father andgrandfather had been lost somewhere in the Sonora Desert.
Belding did not oppose his wife's desire to visit her old home. Hethought it would be a wholesome trip for her, and did all in his powerto persuade Nell to accompany her. But Nell would not go.
It was after Mrs. Belding's departure that Belding discovered in Nell acondition of mind that amazed and distressed him. She had suddenlybecome strangely wretched, so that she could not conceal it from eventhe Gales, who, of all people, Belding imagined, were the ones to makeNell proud. She would tell him nothing. But after a while, when hehad thought it out, he dated this further and more deplorable change inNell back to a day on which he had met Nell with Radford Chase. Thisindefatigable wooer had not in the least abandoned his suit. Somethingabout the fellow made Belding grind his teeth. But Nell grew not onlysolicitously, but now strangely, entreatingly earnest in herimportunities to Belding not to insult or lay a hand on Chase. Thishad bound Belding so far; it had made him think and watch. He hadnever been a man to interfere with his women folk. They could do asthey liked, and usually that pleased him. But a slow surprise gatheredand grew upon him when he saw that Nell, apparently, was acceptingyoung Chase's attentions. At least, she no longer hid from him.Belding could not account for this, because he was sure Nell cordiallydespised the fellow. And toward the end he divined, if he did notactually know, that these Chases possessed some strange power overNell, and were using it. That stirred a hate in Belding--a hate he hadfelt at the very first and had manfully striven against, and which nowgave him over to dark brooding thoughts.
Midsummer passed, and the storms came late. But when they arrived theymade up for tardiness. Belding did not remember so terrible a storm ofwind and rain as that which broke the summer's drought.
In a few days, it seemed, Altar Valley was a bright and green expanse,where dust clouds did not rise. Forlorn River ran, a slow, heavy,turgid torrent. Belding never saw the river in flood that it did notgive him joy; yet now, desert man as he was, he suffered a regret whenhe thought of the great Chase reservoir full and overflowing. The dullthunder of the spillway was not pleasant. It was the first time in hislife that the sound of falling water jarred upon him.
Belding noticed workmen once more engaged in the fields bounding hisland. The Chases had extended a main irrigation ditch down toBelding's farm, skipped the width of his ground, then had gone on downthrough Altar Valley. They had exerted every influence to obtain rightto connect these ditches by digging through his land, but Belding hadremained obdurate. He refused to have any dealings with them. It wastherefore with some curiosity and suspicion that he saw a gang ofMexicans once more at work upon these ditches.
At daylight next morning a tremendous blast almost threw Belding out ofhis bed. It cracked the adobe walls of his house and broke windows andsent pans and crockery to the floor with a crash. Belding's idea wasthat the store of dynamite kept by the Chases for blasting had blownup. Hurriedly getting into his clothes, he went to Nell's room toreassure her; and, telling her to have a thought for their guests, hewent out to see what had happened.
The villagers were pretty badly frightened. Many of the poorlyconstructed adobe huts had crumbled almost into dust. A great yellowcloud, like smoke, hung over the river. This appeared to be at theupper end of Belding's plot, and close to the river. When he reachedhis fence the smoke and dust were so thick he could scarcely breathe,and for a little while he was unable to see what had happened.Presently he made out a huge hole in the sand just about where theirrigation ditch had stopped near his line. For some reason or other,not clear to Belding, the Mexicans had set off an extraordinarily heavyblast at that point.
Belding pondered. He did not now for a moment consider an accidentaldischarge of dynamite. But why had this blast been set off? The loosesandy soil had yielded readily to shovel; there were no rocks; as faras construction of a ditch was concerned such a blast would have donemore harm than good.
Slowly, with reluctant feet, Belding walked toward a green hollow,where in a cluster of willows lay the never-failing spring that hishorses loved so well, and, indeed, which he loved no less. He wasactually afraid to part the drooping willows to enter the little cool,shady path that led to the spring. Then, suddenly seize
d by suspense,he ran the rest of the way.
He was just in time to see the last of the water. It seemed to sink asin quicksand. The shape of the hole had changed. The tremendous forceof the blast in the adjoining field had obstructed or diverted theunderground stream of water.
Belding's never-failing spring had been ruined. What had made thislittle plot of ground green and sweet and fragrant was now no more.Belding's first feeling was for the pity of it. The pale Ajo lilieswould bloom no more under those willows. The willows themselves wouldsoon wither and die. He thought how many times in the middle of hotsummer nights he had come down to the spring to drink. Never again!
Suddenly he thought of Blanco Diablo. How the great white thoroughbredhad loved this spring! Belding straightened up and looked withtear-blurred eyes out over the waste of desert to the west. Never aday passed that he had not thought of the splendid horse; but thismoment, with its significant memory, was doubly keen, and there came adull pang in his breast.
"Diablo will never drink here again!" muttered Belding.
The loss of Blanco Diablo, though admitted and mourned by Belding, hadnever seemed quite real until this moment.
The pall of dust drifting over him, the din of the falling water up atthe dam, diverted Belding's mind to the Chases. All at once he was inthe harsh grip of a cold certainty. The blast had been set offintentionally to ruin his spring. What a hellish trick! No Westerner,no Indian or Mexican, no desert man could have been guilty of such acrime. To ruin a beautiful, clear, cool, never-failing stream of waterin the desert!
It was then that Belding's worry and indecision and brooding were as ifthey had never existed. As he strode swiftly back to the house, hishead, which had long been bent thoughtfully and sadly, was held erect.He went directly to his room, and with an air that was now final hebuckled on his gun belt. He looked the gun over and tried the action.He squared himself and walked a little more erect. Some long-lostindividuality had returned to Belding.
"Let's see," he was saying. "I can get Carter to send the horses I'veleft back to Waco to my brother. I'll make Nell take what money thereis and go hunt up her mother. The Gales are ready to go--to-day, if Isay the word. Nell can travel with them part way East. That's yourgame, Tom Belding, don't mistake me."
As he went out he encountered Mr. Gale coming up the walk. The longsojourn at Forlorn River, despite the fact that it had been laden witha suspense which was gradually changing to a sad certainty, had been ofgreat benefit to Dick's father. The dry air, the heat, and the quiethad made him, if not entirely a well man, certainly stronger than hehad been in many years.
"Belding, what was that terrible roar?" asked Mr. Gale. "We were badlyfrightened until Miss Nell came to us. We feared it was an earthquake."
"Well, I'll tell you, Mr. Gale, we've had some quakes here, but none ofthem could hold a candle to this jar we just had."
Then Belding explained what had caused the explosion, and why it hadbeen set off so close to his property.
"It's an outrage, sir, an unspeakable outrage," declared Mr. Gale,hotly. "Such a thing would not be tolerated in the East. Mr. Belding,I'm amazed at your attitude in the face of all this trickery."
"You see--there was mother and Nell," began Belding, as if apologizing.He dropped his head a little and made marks in the sand with the toe ofhis boot. "Mr. Gale, I've been sort of half hitched, as Laddy used tosay. I'm planning to have a little more elbow room round this ranch.I'm going to send Nell East to her mother. Then I'll-- See here, Mr.Gale, would you mind having Nell with you part way when you go home?"
"We'd all be delighted to have her go all the way and make us a visit,"replied Mr. Gale.
"That's fine. And you'll be going soon? Don't take that as if Iwanted to--" Belding paused, for the truth was that he did want tohurry them off.
"We would have been gone before this, but for you," said Mr. Gale."Long ago we gave up hope of--of Richard ever returning. And Ibelieve, now we're sure he was lost, that we'd do well to go home atonce. You wished us to remain until the heat was broken--till therains came to make traveling easier for us. Now I see no need forfurther delay. My stay here has greatly benefited my health. I shallnever forget your hospitality. This Western trip would have made me anew man if--only--Richard--"
"Sure. I understand," said Belding, gruffly. "Let's go in and tellthe women to pack up."
Nell was busy with the servants preparing breakfast. Belding took herinto the sitting-room while Mr. Gale called his wife and daughter.
"My girl, I've some news for you," began Belding. "Mr. Gale is leavingto-day with his family. I'm going to send you with them--part way,anyhow. You're invited to visit them. I think that 'd be great foryou--help you to forget. But the main thing is--you're going East tojoin mother."
Nell gazed at him, white-faced, without uttering a word.
"You see, Nell, I'm about done in Forlorn River," went on Belding."That blast this morning sank my spring. There's no water now. It wasthe last straw. So we'll shake the dust of Forlorn River. I'll come ona little later--that's all."
"Dad, you're packing your gun!" exclaimed Nell, suddenly pointing witha trembling finger. She ran to him, and for the first time in his lifeBelding put her away from him. His movements had lost the old slowgentleness.
"Why, so I am," replied Belding, coolly, as his hand moved down to thesheath swinging at his hip. "Nell, I'm that absent-minded these days!"
"Dad!" she cried.
"That'll do from you," he replied, in a voice he had never used to her."Get breakfast now, then pack to leave Forlorn River."
"Leave Forlorn River!" whispered Nell, with a thin white hand stealingup to her breast. How changed the girl was! Belding reproachedhimself for his hardness, but did not speak his thought aloud. Nellwas fading here, just as Mercedes had faded before the coming of Thorne.
Nell turned away to the west window and looked out across the deserttoward the dim blue peaks in the distance. Belding watched her;likewise the Gales; and no one spoke. There ensued a long silence.Belding felt a lump rise in his throat. Nell laid her arm against thewindow frame, but gradually it dropped, and she was leaning with herface against the wood. A low sob broke from her. Elsie Gale went toher, embraced her, took the drooping head on her shoulder.
"We've come to be such friends," she said. "I believe it'll be goodfor you to visit me in the city. Here--all day you look out acrossthat awful lonely desert.... Come, Nell."
Heavy steps sounded outside on the flagstones, then the door rattledunder a strong knock. Belding opened it. The Chases, father and son,stood beyond the threshold.
"Good morning, Belding," said the elder Chase. "We were routed outearly by that big blast and came up to see what was wrong. All ablunder. The Greaser foreman was drunk yesterday, and his ignorant menmade a mistake. Sorry if the blast bothered you."
"Chase, I reckon that's the first of your blasts I was ever glad tohear," replied Belding, in a way that made Chase look blank.
"So? Well, I'm glad you're glad," he went on, evidently puzzled. "Iwas a little worried--you've always been so touchy--we never could gettogether. I hurried over, fearing maybe you might think the blast--yousee, Belding--"
"I see this, Mr. Ben Chase," interrupted Belding, in curt and ringingvoice. "That blast was a mistake, the biggest you ever made in yourlife."
"What do you mean?" demanded Chase.
"You'll have to excuse me for a while, unless you're dead set on havingit out right now. Mr. Gale and his family are leaving, and my daughteris going with them. I'd rather you'd wait a little."
"Nell going away!" exclaimed Radford Chase. He reminded Belding of anovergrown boy in disappointment.
"Yes. But--Miss Burton to you, young man--"
"Mr. Belding, I certainly would prefer a conference with you rightnow," interposed the elder Chase, cutting short Belding's strangespeech. "There are other matters--important matters to discuss.They've got to be settl
ed. May we step in, sir?"
"No, you may not," replied Belding, bluntly. "I'm sure particular whoI invite into my house. But I'll go with you."
Belding stepped out and closed the door. "Come away from the house sothe women won't hear the--the talk."
The elder Chase was purple with rage, yet seemed to be controlling it.The younger man looked black, sullen, impatient. He appeared not tohave a thought of Belding. He was absolutely blind to the situation,as considered from Belding's point of view. Ben Chase found his voiceabout the time Belding halted under the trees out of earshot from thehouse.
"Sir, you've insulted me--my son. How dare you? I want you tounderstand that you're--"
"Chop that kind of talk with me, you ------ ------ ------ ------!"interrupted Belding. He had always been profane, and now he certainlydid not choose his language. Chase turned livid, gasped, and seemedabout to give way to fury. But something about Belding evidentlyexerted a powerful quieting influence. "If you talk sense I'lllisten," went on Belding.
Belding was frankly curious. He did not think any argument orinducement offered by Chase could change his mind on past dealings orhis purpose of the present. But he believed by listening he might getsome light on what had long puzzled him. The masterly effort Chase putforth to conquer his aroused passions gave Belding another idea of thecharacter of this promoter.
"I want to make a last effort to propitiate you," began Chase, in hisquick, smooth voice. That was a singular change to Belding--thedropping instantly into an easy flow of speech. "You've had losseshere, and naturally you're sore. I don't blame you. But you can't seethis thing from my side of the fence. Business is business. Inbusiness the best man wins. The law upheld those transactions of minethe honesty of which you questioned. As to mining and water claims, youlost on this technical point--that you had nothing to prove you hadheld them for five years. Five years is the time necessary in law. Adozen men might claim the source of Forlorn River, but if they had nohouse or papers to prove their squatters' rights any man could go inand fight them for the water. .... Now I want to run that main ditchalong the river, through your farm. Can't we make a deal? I'm readyto be liberal--to meet you more than halfway. I'll give you aninterest in the company. I think I've influence enough up at theCapitol to have you reinstated as inspector. A little reasonablenesson your part will put you right again in Forlorn River, with a chanceof growing rich. There's a big future here.... My interest, Belding,has become personal. Radford is in love with your step-daughter. Hewants to marry her. I'll admit now if I had foreseen this situation Iwouldn't have pushed you so hard. But we can square the thing. Nowlet's get together not only in business, but in a family way. If myson's happiness depends upon having this girl, you may rest assuredI'll do all I can to get her for him. I'll absolutely make good allyour losses. Now what do you say?"
"No," replied Belding. "Your money can't buy a right of way across myranch. And Nell doesn't want your son. That settles that."
"But you could persuade her."
"I won't, that's all."
"May I ask why?" Chases's voice was losing its suave quality, but itwas even swifter than before.
"Sure. I don't mind your asking," replied Belding in slowdeliberation. "I wouldn't do such a low-down trick. Besides, if Iwould, I'd want it to be a man I was persuading for. I knowGreasers--I know a Yaqui I'd rather give Nell to than your son."
Radford Chase began to roar in inarticulate rage. Belding paid noattention to him; indeed, he never glanced at the young man. The elderChase checked a violent start. He plucked at the collar of his grayflannel shirt, opened it at the neck.
"My son's offer of marriage is an honor--more an honor, sir, than youperhaps are aware of."
Belding made no reply. His steady gaze did not turn from the long lanethat led down to the river. He waited coldly, sure of himself.
"Mrs. Belding's daughter has no right to the name of Burton," snappedChase. "Did you know that?"
"I did not," replied Belding, quietly.
"Well, you know it now," added Chase, bitingly.
"Sure you can prove what you say?" queried Belding, in the same cool,unemotional tone. It struck him strangely at the moment what littleknowledge this man had of the West and of Western character.
"Prove it? Why, yes, I think so, enough to make the truth plain to anyreasonable man. I come from Peoria--was born and raised there. I wentto school with Nell Warren. That was your wife's maiden name. She wasa beautiful, gay girl. All the fellows were in love with her. I knewBob Burton well. He was a splendid fellow, but wild. Nobody ever knewfor sure, but we all supposed he was engaged to marry Nell. He leftPeoria, however, and soon after that the truth about Nell came out.She ran away. It was at least a couple of months before Burton showedup in Peoria. He did not stay long. Then for years nothing was heardof either of them. When word did come Nell was in Oklahoma, Burton wasin Denver. There's chance, of course, that Burton followed Nell andmarried her. That would account for Nell Warren taking the name ofBurton. But it isn't likely. None of us ever heard of such a thingand wouldn't have believed it if we had. The affair seemed destined toend unfortunately. But Belding, while I'm at it, I want to say thatNell Warren was one of the sweetest, finest, truest girls in the world.If she drifted to the Southwest and kept her past a secret that wasonly natural. Certainly it should not be held against her. Why, shewas only a child--a girl--seventeen--eighteen years old.... In a momentof amazement--when I recognized your wife as an old schoolmate--Iblurted the thing out to Radford. You see now how little it matters tome when I ask your stepdaughter's hand in marriage for my son."
Belding stood listening. The genuine emotion in Chase's voice was asstrong as the ring of truth. Belding knew truth when he heard it. Therevelation did not surprise him. Belding did not soften, for hedevined that Chase's emotion was due to the probing of an old wound,the recalling of a past both happy and painful. Still, human naturewas so strange that perhaps kindness and sympathy might yet have aplace in this Chase's heart. Belding did not believe so, but he waswilling to give Chase the benefit of the doubt.
"So you told my wife you'd respect her secret--keep her dishonor fromhusband and daughter?" demanded Belding, his dark gaze sweeping backfrom the lane.
"What! I--I" stammered Chase.
"You made your son swear to be a man and die before he'd hint the thingto Nell?" went on Belding, and his voice rang louder.
Ben Chase had no answer. The red left his face. His son slunk backagainst the fence.
"I say you never held this secret over the heads of my wife and herdaughter?" thundered Belding.
He had his answer in the gray faces, in the lips that fear made mute.Like a flash Belding saw the whole truth of Mrs. Belding's agony, thereason for her departure; he saw what had been driving Nell; and itseemed that all the dogs of hell were loosed within his heart. Hestruck out blindly, instinctively in his pain, and the blow sent BenChase staggering into the fence corner. Then he stretched forth a longarm and whirled Radford Chase back beside his father.
"I see it all now," went on Belding, hoarsely. "You found the woman'sweakness--her love for the girl. You found the girl's weakness--herpride and fear of shame. So you drove the one and hounded the other.God, what a base thing to do! To tell the girl was bad enough, but tothreaten her with betrayal; there's no name for that!"
Belding's voice thickened, and he paused, breathing heavily. Hestepped back a few paces; and this, an ominous action for an armed manof his kind, instead of adding to the fear of the Chases, seemed torelieve them. If there had been any pity in Belding's heart he wouldhave felt it then.
"And now, gentlemen," continued Belding, speaking low and withdifficulty, "seeing I've turned down your proposition, I suppose youthink you've no more call to keep your mouths shut?"
The elder Chase appeared fascinated by something he either saw or feltin Belding, and his gray face grew grayer. He put up a shaking hand.T
hen Radford Chase, livid and snarling, burst out: "I'll talk till I'mblack in the face. You can't stop me!"
"You'll go black in the face, but it won't be from talking," hissedBelding.
His big arm swept down, and when he threw it up the gun glittered inhis hand. Simultaneously with the latter action pealed out a shrill,penetrating whistle.
The whistle of a horse! It froze Belding's arm aloft. For an instanthe could not move even his eyes. The familiarity of that whistle wasterrible in its power to rob him of strength. Then he heard the rapid,heavy pound of hoofs, and again the piercing whistle.
"Blanco Diablo!" he cried, huskily.
He turned to see a huge white horse come thundering into the yard. Awild, gaunt, terrible horse; indeed, the loved Blanco Diablo. Abronzed, long-haired Indian bestrode him. More white horses gallopedinto the yard, pounded to a halt, whistling home. Belding saw a slimshadow of a girl who seemed all great black eyes.
Under the trees flashed Blanco Sol, as dazzling white, as beautiful asif he had never been lost in the desert. He slid to a halt, thenplunged and stamped. His rider leaped, throwing the bridle. Beldingsaw a powerful, spare, ragged man, with dark, gaunt face and eyes offlame.
Then Nell came running from the house, her golden hair flying, herhands outstretched, her face wonderful.
"Dick! Dick! Oh-h-h, Dick!" she cried. Her voice seemed to quiver inBelding's heart.
Belding's eyes began to blur. He was not sure he saw clearly. Whoseface was this now close before him--a long thin, shrunken face,haggard, tragic in its semblance of torture, almost of death? But theeyes were keen and kind. Belding thought wildly that they proved hewas not dreaming.
"I shore am glad to see you all," said a well-remembered voice in aslow, cool drawl.