Tex

by B. M. Bower

  *CHAPTER XXII*

  *THE FALSE TRAIL AND THE TRUE*

  The maudlin crowd was ugly and did not accept the marshal's appearancewith any enthusiasm. While he had not opposed them he had warned andsent away their hoped-for victims. Frank scowls met him wherever helooked. He stopped at the table where Gus Williams and a dozen cronies,the bolder men of the town, were drinking and arguing.

  "Blascom's cussed sick," he announced. "Sick as a dog. I rode out tospend th' night with him, knowin' that when that coyote section-bosssent his pack out of town there wouldn't be no reason for me to stayhere an' make myself unpopular. I got a good job in this town, an' I'vegot a right to have friends here. Anyhow, I told Murphy that if his mencame back they'd have to do their own fightin'. Reckon that's why hesent 'em along. Him an' Costigan follered 'em on th' other hand car."He glanced over the room. "Where's Hennery?" he asked. "I heard hewanted to see me."

  Williams roused himself and looked up through bloodshot eyes. "Th'fool's gone courtin', I reckon; an' on a night like this, when I neededhim. Don't know when he'll git back. He mus' be enjoyin' hisself,anyhow."

  John Graves chuckled and endorsed the sentiment.

  Tex nodded. "I reckon mebby he is, his star bein' bright tonight. Muchexcitement in town after I left? Station agent make any trouble?"

  "A lot of chances he'd 'a' had to make any of us any trouble," sneered aminer. "I reckon he cut an' run right quick. We've been figgerin' he'sbetter off in some other town. Been thinkin' of chasin' him out. Anyobjections from th' marshal of Windsor?"

  "Not a cussed one," answered Tex. "He's a trouble-maker, stayin' here.Chuck him on th' train tomorrow an' send him back East, where he comefrom. An' his sister, too, if you want."

  Williams shook his head. "Not her," he said. "Henry'll never let hergit away from him. He's aimin' to take care of her; an' he shore canhandle her, _he_ can."

  "I reckon he can," agreed Tex. "I just come in to get th' doc to go outan' look at Blascom. Since he's struck it rich he's been feedin' like afool. Them as live by canned grub, dies by canned grub, says I; an'he's close to doin' it. I got a bottle of whiskey for him, but I reckongin will be better for his stummick. Yes, a lot better. Hey, Baldy!"he shouted. "Put me out a bottle of gin an' set up th' drinks for allhands. We'll drink to a better understandin' an' to Hennery an' hisbride." He pulled the pint flask from his pocket and winked at hiscompanions. "I got a little somethin' extra, here. Th' smoke of Scotchfires is in it. Might as well use it up," and he quickly filled theglasses on the table, discovering when too late that he had none leftfor himself. "Oh, well; whiskey is whiskey, to me. I'll take some ofBaldy's with th' boys," and he swaggered over to the bar, tossing a goldpiece on the counter.

  "Where's yore badge, Marshal?" asked Baldy, curiously.

  Tex quickly felt of his coat lapel and then of his vest. "Cuss it!" hegrowled. "I knowed I'd lose that star--th' pin was a little short to gofar enough in th' socket. Oh, well," he laughed, holding up his glass,"everyone knows me now; an' they'll know me better as time goes on.Here's to Hennery!" he shouted. "Drink her standin'!"

  The toast drunk to roaring jests, he took the gin and went back toWilliams. "Goin' after th' doc," he remarked. "Lost my badge, too; butlemme say that anybody found wearin' it shore will have bad luck. Seeyou all tomorrow. He's sick as a pup, Blascom is. Good night, an'sleep tight, as th' sayin' is!" he shouted laughingly and nodding at thecrowd he wheeled and went out. Once secure from observation of anycurious inhabitants of the town, he ran to the horses, mounted, and rodeup to the Saunders' house, a home no longer. Entering it he quicklycollected a bag of provisions and then, milling the horses before thedoor to start a plain trail, he cantered toward the station, where hecrossed the tracks and struck south for the old cattle trail.

  All night he rode hard, sitting the sorrel to keep his own horse fresh,and at dawn, giving them a ration of corn each, he ate a cold andhurried breakfast and soon was on his way again. During the forenoon helet the sorrel go, riding the gray with the depleted corn sack tied tothe pommel. Several hours later he threw the still further depletedsack on the roan, changed horses again and turned the gray loose. Afternightfall he came within sight of the lights of a small town and,waiting until the hour was quite late, rode through it casually to losethe tracks of his horse among the countless prints on its streets. Heleft it along a well-traveled trail leading westward, one which wouldtake him, eventually, to Rawlins.

  In the town of Gunsight, Dave Green was polishing glasses behind his barwhen a dusty, but smiling, stranger rode up to the door and called out.Grumbling, Dave waddled forth to answer the summons.

  "Which way to th' SV?" asked the stranger. "I'm lookin' for my friendNelson."

  "What is it--a house-raisin' or a christenin'?" asked Dave, grinningbroadly. "Th' SV's gettin right pop'lar these days--as it ought to be."Dave cogitated a moment. This man said Nelson was a friend of his; butif not, there would be no harm done to anyone on the SV. Dave was quitecertain of that, with Hopalong, Red, and the outfit at Johnny's back.Still, his curiosity was aroused. "Yore name Jones, or Ewalt?" heasked.

  "Ewalt," replied Tex, grinning.

  Dave left the door and gravely held out his hand. "Heard tell about you,long ago," he said. "We're good friends till you horn into a poker gamethat I'm settin' in. Heard about you this mornin', too. A tenderfoot,a cowpunch, an' a reg'lar picture in skirts stopped an' asked me whatyou did. Also wanted to know if I had seen Jones or Ewalt. You justfoller that Juniper trail," and he gave a description tiresome, andneedlessly detailed, to a man to whom compass points would havesufficed. "Jones comin', too? Don't know I ever heard of him."

  "Jones is dead," said Tex with touching sorrow. "Th' pore ol' soul,we'll never see him more. He had buttons runnin' up his back, an'buttons down before."

  "Too bad," replied Dave, but he was suspicious of the other's grief. Heshook his head. "Life shore is uncertain. You tell Johnny if he'shavin' a party that I ain't too fat to ride that far, not if I'minvited. I ain't much on dancin', but I'll do my best."

  Tex nodded, thanked him for his information and went on, graduallybecoming lost in introspective musings.

  "Omar," he muttered, shaking his head sadly, "I ain't got no right. I'mhard-boiled, an' I've reached purty low levels th' last twenty years.There ain't no human meanness, no human weaknesses, hardly, that I ain'tseen. My view of life is so cynical that it near scares me, now. Ilost my illusions years ago, an' I'm allus lookin' for th' basestmotives for a man's actions. Besides, I'm forty-odd years old--an'that's _too_ old.

  "Now you take Tommy Watkins. He's fresh, young, chock-a-block withillusions; trustin', ambitious, steady. He's clean, body an' mind. Whenhe grows up, ten years from now, he'll be a purty fair sort of a youngman. It shore does beat all, Omar."

  A little farther along he drew a deep breath and patted the roan."Omar, I've made up my mind: Youth should be for youth; illusions, forillusions; freshness, for freshness; innocence, for innocence. Herpurity deserves better than my mildewed soul--if a man's got one."After a moment's silence he patted the horse again. "Omar, yore namebrings somethin' back to me:

  _Ah Love! could you and I with Him conspire_ _To grasp this sorry Scheme of Things entire,_ _Would not we shatter it to bits--and then_ _Remould it nearer to the Heart's Desire!_

  Raising his head he saw a rattlesnake sunning itself on a rocky patch ofground near the trail and his gun leaped into crashing life. The snakewrithed, trying in vain to coil. A second shot stretched it lifeless.

  "There, d--n you!" shouted Tex, shaking his fist at the quivering body,"that's how I feel!" and, the burst of passion gone as quickly as it hadcome, he shook his head and rode on again, calm and determined. At lasthe came to the top of the last hill hiding the ranchhouse and drew reinas he looked down into the north branch of the SV valley. A boy wasriding along the bottom of the slope a
nd Tex hailed him.

  "Hey, sonny!" shouted the ex-marshal. "I'm lookin' for HopalongCassidy. Know where he is?"

  "He's at th' house!" replied the boy. "Yo're Tex Ewalt! Foller me, an'I'll beat you to him!"

  "Bet yo're Charley!" responded Tex. "Yo're shore goin' to ride some,cowboy, if you aim to beat me!" and a race was on.

  There came a flurry of movement at the ranchhouse door and three men ranto their saddled horses. A sudden cloud of dust rolled up and thethree, bunched leg to leg, raced toward the galloping newcomer.Heedless of Charley's vexatious appeal they shot past him and kept onwhile he swung his pony around and saw them sweep up to the slowing roanand surround him and his rider. More soberly, after a hilarious welcome,the four, with Charley endeavoring to wedge into shifting openings nothalf large enough for his pony, they rode up to the ranchhouse, whereJerry had run out to meet them, Margaret Nelson at his heels. As soonas he could Tex asked for Jane and learned that she was resting.

  "She has been under a very heavy strain, Mr. Ewalt," Margaret told him."She asked that you see her as soon as you came; but she is sleeping,now, and it will be better for her if you wait. Her remorse is as greatas her horror and fatigue."

  "I suppose so," replied Tex. "That's the woman of it. She shot a beastin plain self-defense and now she's remorseful. Shucks--it's all myfault. I should have done it, myself, days before."

  "I didn't say just what I think is causing her remorse," repliedMargaret, smiling enigmatically; "but that is something a man shouldfind out for himself," and, turning quickly, she entered the house.

  Tex stared after her and then around the circle of happy, grinningfaces. An answering smile crept to his own, a smile wistful, but shadedwith pain.

  The next few days were busy ones from a conversational standpoint, forthere was a great deal to talk about. Tex learned the history of theSV's rejuvenation, and his friends eagerly listened to the news hebrought from Montana, and to the messages he brought from their friends;while Jane, much better because of the rest she had had, sat by thecheerful group, smiling at the perfect accord between its units andrapidly changing her ideas of western men. Here she saw friendshipswhich seemed to be founded on the eternal rock, unshakable,unquestioning. She found it almost impossible to believe that thesethin-lipped, yet kindly and smiling men, whose trick of looking outthrough narrowed lids at first made her wonder, each had killed againand again, as Margaret had told her. To her they were gravely kind,courteous, and deferential, accepting her without question, their mannera soothing assurance as to her safety. Jerry and Tommy wereunquestionably accepted and made part of the happy circle--they werefriends of Tex Ewalt, whom she now knew by his right name. Johnny'sboyish enthusiasm and mischievous smile made it hard for her to believethat he, single-handed, had overcome the odds against him and clearedthis range of its undesirable inhabitants. Margaret's proud account ofhis deeds rang true, and Jane knew that they were true.

  There they all sat on the front porch, telling anecdotes on each otherwhich amazed Jane, speaking of remarkable exploits in matter-of-factvoices. She learned of Tex's part in the saving of Buck Peter's ranch,and gradually pieced together the story of his activities in Windsor.Prodded by Tex, at last Johnny and Hopalong gave a grudging exhibitionof revolver shooting which made her catch her breath. Tex Ewalt hadbeen right: these two cheerful men could ride into Windsor and wipe itfrom the map; and she no longer feared the appearance of any ofWilliams' friends. If they could find and follow the trail, let them!

  Tex was the quietest man in the party, and she was pleased because hespoke only in the vernacular. She had not heard him deviate from it forone instant. He had no wish to "show off" at the expense of his roughlyspeaking friends. Tommy's garrulity, considering how little he reallyhad to say, sounded like the prattle of a child among grown-ups; but hewas a good, well-meaning boy. Daily he spoke of getting work on theDouble X, where Lin Sherwood could use another rider; but he had made noattempt to go, preferring to stay where she was and to follow her aboutat every opportunity.

  Then came the afternoon when Johnny volunteered to show his guests aboutthe ranch and they had set out, Tex remaining behind. Jane had felt arestraint at the thought of how close she and the ex-marshal would bethrown together on this ranch, but soon found it to be groundless.Deferential, reserved, friendly, he had not obtruded, and apparently hadnot noticed Tommy's attentions. They rode off, Jerry with their host,Tommy at the side of Jane. When down in the main valley Johnny hadturned off to look at the fenced-in quicksands, Jerry going with him tosee the now harmless death trap, and Tommy remained behind with her; andwhen they returned they found a flushed Jane and a despondent Tommy.The following morning when she sat down to a late breakfast with Mr.Arnold, Johnny's father-in-law, she learned quite casually that Tommyhad gone to the Double X and that the rest of the men, her brotherincluded, had ridden up to the north wire to make some repairs. Arnoldexplained about the difficulty of keeping the posts up along the bottomof the ravine where he had suffered his broken leg, and he told her ofthe fondness of the cattle for the wilderness of brush and of thedifficult task of running a round-up on that part of the ranch.

  "Let me throw a saddle on yore horse, Miss Saunders," he suggested. "Itwill make a pleasant ride for you; an' you can take 'em up some lunch ifyou like. They've got a bigger task than they think, for th' ravinefloor is solid rock. I'll send Charley with you--he's on th' rampagebecause he overslept and I wouldn't let him go up and bother them. Buthe might as well go."

  She thought for a moment, and then turned a grave and pitiful face tohim.

  "I feel that I can ask you anything, Mr. Arnold; and I'm so upset."

  "You certainly can, Miss Saunders," he replied, abandoning thevernacular in response to her way of speaking.

  She hurriedly told him of the killing of Henry Williams, of the blood onher hands, but avoided the real appeal, the question she must find herown answer to. He heard her through, and, arising, placed a fatherlyhand on her shoulder.

  "Jane," he said, slowly shaking his head. "Environment, circumstances,change all things. There's not a man on this ranch that doesn't feelproud of what he knows about you. A woman has as much right, and oftena greater need, to defend herself, as a man has. Don't you worry aboutthat beast; and don't you worry about anyone coming down here after you.We can muster forty fighting men, if we need them, purely on Johnny'ssay-so. We're all proud of you. Now I'll saddle your horse while Peggyputs up the lunch. You and Charley can easily carry it between you.There's no place down here where you can't safely go; but please keep inthe saddle while you're on the range. These cattle are dangerous toanyone afoot."

  While the simple preparations were being made she heard Charley'sexultant whoops and soon she rode with him toward the upper end of thesmall valley, listening to his worshiping chatter about his heroes. Nowhe had a new one, the man who could pull poker hands out of a fellow'snose, eyes, and ears.

  "He'd 'a' got that Hennery feller, too," he averred, "only you beat himout. Gee, Miss Saunders! Wish I'd 'a' been there! I ain't never shotnobody yet--but you just wait, that's all! I heard Tex say he'd 'a'shot up th' whole d--d town if they'd tried to bother you--an' Hoppysaid he could 'a' done it, _easy_! Hoppy knows, too. Why don't youlike Tex, Miss Saunders? I think he's aces-up!"

  "Why, I do, Charley. Whatever made you ask me that?"

  "Well, if you do, Tex don't think so," he grumbled. "You know that pileof rock, up on th' hill where th' Gunsight trail winds like a letter S?"

  She nodded. She could see it plainly from her window.

  "Well, I was layin' up there, keepin' watch for that Williams' gang, an'he never even reckoned anybody was near him!" he boasted. "Takes a goodman to find me when I don't want him to, I tell you. Injuns can't, an'they're cussed cute, Hoppy says."

  "Who was it who didn't see you?"

  "Tex," chuckled the boy. "He come walkin' along like there wasn'tnobody around, an' he sorta slammed hisself down
on th' rock next to th'top one. You an' Tommy an' Jerry was ridin' back from th' main valley.We could just see you, me an' him, only he didn't know _I_ was there.After awhile we could see plain. Jerry rode off to look at somethin',an kinda fell back, leavin' you an' Tommy goin' on without him. I waswatchin' Tex, because he had a funny look on his face. He just lookedsteady, an' when he saw you two ridin' along together, he threw out hisarms an' said somethin' about bein' like Jerry. Somethin' about fallingback an' seein' you an' Tommy ridin' through life together--as ifanybody would ride as long as that! Tell you what: These grown-ups saysome cussed foolish things. There was tears in his eyes--him, agrown-up, gun-fightin' son-of-a-gun! Huh! An' they used to tease mewhen _I_ cried! What you think about that?" He looked eagerly at herfor the answer and then snorted in frank disgust. "Cuss it--an' yo'resnifflin', too! I'll be a son-of-a-gun!"

  "You mustn't tell anyone about it, Charley!" she pleaded. "They won'tunderstand!"

  "I won't," he promised. "Don't blame you for bein' ashamed. Tex would'a' been, too, if he knowed I saw him. Then mebby he wouldn't go upthere every night an' watch yore window till the light goes out, an' Iwouldn't have nobody to trail. Reckon he's scared that Williams gangwill trail you down here? Huh! With him settin' up there, me roamin'loose, an' with Johnny, Hoppy, an' Red in th' house, I shore wish theywould come a-pokin' their noses around here! I tell you, things'd shorepop. If Tex could clean out their whole town all alone, they'd shorehave a pleasant time down here ag'in' him an' his friends! Gee!"

  After supper the nightly gathering on the porch passed a pleasant houror two and then dwindled as its members retired, the two women andCharley going first. Jerry followed soon afterward and not much laterRed and Hopalong left to go to the bunkhouse, where they now wereberthed. Arnold soon went into the house, to the room which Texstubbornly had refused to occupy, the latter preferring the bunkhousewith his old friends. After a cigarette or two Johnny said good nightand left his companion alone. Tex arose, paced restlessly to and froacross the yard and, wheeling abruptly, went toward the corral. He hadnot been gone very long when Charley, noiselessly crawling out of thewindow of the room he shared with his father, froze in his tracks as heheard a noise beyond the summer kitchen. He had Red's Winchester, whichhe had taken from the gun rack in the dining-room, and he scoutedcautiously toward the suspicious sounds. The moonlight let him seeplainly, and he drew back behind the corner of the building as Jane rodeaway, leaving the light burning brightly in her room.

  Charley frankly was puzzled. "Somethin's goin' on," he cogitated. "Iwas goin' to stalk Tex--now I dunno. Shucks! He can look out forhisself, but she might get lost. Reckon I'll foller her." He suitedaction to the words and soon was riding after her, keeping out of hersight with a woodcraft worthy of his elders.

  She led him along the Gunsight trail, closer and closer to the S it madeup the rocky hill, and because of the view commanded by the rocky pileon the summit, he had to dismount, picket his horse, and proceed onfoot, working from cover to cover, often on hands and knees.

  Tex had taken his time, buried in thought, oblivious to everythingoutside of himself. He followed the well-marked trail instinctively andsoon reached the top of the hill, where he sat quietly in the saddle fora few minutes. Finally, shaking his head, he dismounted and listlesslywalked to the place of his nightly vigil. Seating himself on thetop-most bowlder he gazed steadily at the yellow light of the distantwindow and, like many men of his class, given to solitude, he argued hisproblem aloud. It seemed that often he could think more clearly thatway.

  This could not go on. Tomorrow he would start back to Montana, and hesoon arose to return to the SV, to spend his last night there. As hewent back to his horse another verse came to his mind, a verse offinality, and one fitting the present situation. He laughed bitterlyand flung out his arms:

  _And when like her, O Saki, you shall pass_ _Among the Guests Star-scatter'd on the Grass,_ _And in your blissful errand reach the spot_ _Where I made One--turn down an empty Glass!_

  Suddenly he stiffened, his hands leaping instinctively to his guns.Then he let them fall to his sides and stared unbelievingly: "MissSaunders!" he exclaimed in amazement. "Why--what are you--?" andceased, tongue-tied.

  "You are--going away?" she asked, her voice breaking, speaking so low hebarely could hear her words.

  "Tomorrow."

  She hung her head for a moment and then turned a wistful, anxious faceup to him. "I--I heard what you have been saying. O Tex--I--I am goingwith you!"

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