by Grey, Zane
Rock got there first and intercepted her. "I'll carry these."
"But you shouldn't leave the store," she protested.
Fortunately, at this juncture Sol Winter hurriedly entered. "Well, now, what's this?" he queried, with a broad smile. "Thiry, to think you'd happen in just the wrong minute."
"Oh, Mr. Winter, I didn't miss you at all," returned Thiry, gayly. "Your new clerk was most obliging and--and capable--after I found the thing I needed."
"Haw! Haw! He's shore a fine clerk. Thiry, meet True Rock, old rider an' pard Of mine."
"Ah--I remember now," she flashed. "Is Mr. Rock the rider who once saved your son, Nick?"
"Yes, Thiry," he replied, and turning, to Rock he added, "Son, this lass is Miss Thiry Preston, who's helped to make some hard times easier for me."
"Happy to meet you, Miss Preston," beamed Rock.
"How do you do, Mr. Rock," returned Thiry, with just a hint of mischief in her grey eyes.
They went out together and Trueman felt that he was soaring to the blue sky. Outside in the sunshine he could see her better and it was as if some magic had transformed her.
They soon reached the end of the street and started across an open flat toward the corrals.
"You're in an awful hurry," finally complained Trueman.
"Yes, I am. I'm late, and you don't know--" She did not complete the sentence, but nevertheless it told Rock much.
By this time they had reached the first corral. The big gate swung ajar. The fence was planked and too high to see over. Thiry led the way in. Rock espied some saddle-horses, a wagon, and then a double-seated buckboard hitched to a fine-looking team of roans.
"Here we, are," said the girl, with evident relief. "No one come yet! I'm glad. Put the bundles under the back seat, Mr. Rock."
He did as directed, and then faced her, not knowing what to say, fearing the mingled feelings that swept over him and bewildered by them.
"After all, you've been very kind--even if--"
"Don't say if," he broke in, entreatingly. "Don't spoil it by a single if. It's been the greatest adventure of my life."
"Of many like adventures, no doubt," she replied, her clear grey eyes on him.
"I've met many girls in many ways, but there has never been anything like this," he returned.
"Mr. Rock!" she protested, lifting a hand to her cheek, where a wave of scarlet burned.
Then a clink of spins, slow steps, and thuds of hoofs sounded behind Rock. He saw the girl's colour fade and her face turn white.
"Hyah she ish, Range," called out a coarse voice, somehow vibrant, despite a thick hint of liquor. "With 'nother galoot, b'gosh! Schecond one terday."
Slowly Rock turned on his heel, and in the turning went back to the original self that had been in abeyance for a while. When it came to dealing with men he was not a clerk.
Two riders had entered the coral, and the foremost was dismounting. He was partly drunk, but that was not the striking thing about him. He looked and breathed the very spirit of the range at its wildest. He was tall, lean, lithe, with a handsome red face, eyes hot as blue flame and yellow hair that curled scraggily from under a dusty-black sombrero. Drops of sweat stood out like beads on his lean jowls and his curved lips. A gun swung below his hip.
The other rider, called Range, was a cowboy, young in years, with still grey eyes like Miss Preston's, and intent, expressionless face. Rock gathered from the resemblance that this boy was Thiry's brother. But who was the other?
"Thiry, who's thish?" queried the rider, striding forward.
"I can introduce myself," struck in Rock coolly. "I'm Trueman Rock, late of Texas."
"Hell, you shay!" returned the other ponderingly, as if trying to fit the name to something in memory. "Whash you doin' hyar?"
"Well, if it's any of your business, I was in Winter's store and packed over Miss Preston's bundles," replied Rock.
"Haw! Haw!" guffawed the rider derisively. Who was he? Surely not a lover! The thought seemed to cut fiercely into Rock's inner flesh.
"Wal," went on the tall rider presently, swaggering closer to Rock, "run along, Big Hat, 'fore I reach you with a boot."
"Ash! You're drunk!" burst out the girl.
The disgust and scorn and fear, and something else in her outbreak, instantly gave Rock tight rein on his own feelings. This rider, then, was Ash Preston. Her brother! The relief Rock experienced out-stressed anything else for the moment.
"Whosh drunk?" queried Preston. "Your mistake, Thiry."
"Yes, you are drunk," she returned with heat. "You've insulted Mr. Rock, who was kind enough to help me carry things from the store."
"Wal, I'll help Mishter Rock on his way," replied Preston leering.
Range, the other rider, like a flash leaped out of his saddle and jerked Preston's gun from its sheath. "Ash, you look out," he called sharply. "You don't know this fellar."
Chapter 2
"Whash the hell I care? He's Big Hat, an' I'm a-goin' to chase him pronto."
Thiry Preston stepped out as if impelled, yet she was evidently clamped with fear. "Please, Ash, be decent if you can't be a gentleman," begged Thiry.
For answer Preston lurched by Thiry and swept out a long slow arm, with open hand, aimed at Rock's face. But Rock dodged, and at the sane time stuck out his foot dexterously. The rider, his momentum unchecked, tripped and lost his balance. He fell slowly, helplessly, and striking on his shoulder he rolled over in the dirt. He sat up, ludicrously, and wiping the dust off his cheek he extended a long arm, with shaking hand, up at Rock. "Shay, you hit me, fellar."
"Preston you're quite wrong. I didn't," replied Rock.
"Whash you hit me with?"
"I didn't hit you with anythin'."
"Range, is thish hyar Big Hat lyin' to 'me?"
"Nope. You jest fell over him," returned the younger rider.
"Ash, you're so drunk you can't stand up," interposed. Thiry.
"Wal, stranger, I'm 'ceptin' your apology."
"Thanks. You're sure considerate," returned Rock with sarcasm. He was not used to total restraint and he could not remember when any man had jarred him so. Turning to the girl, he said: "I'll go. Goodbye, Miss Preston."
With his back to the brothers Trueman made his eyes speak a great deal more than his words. The dullest of girls would have grasped that he did not mean goodbye forever. Thiry's response to his gaze was a silent one of regret, of confusion.
Rock stepped up on the corral fence, reached the top rail, and vaulted over. "Ash Preston! Bad medicine! And he's her brother!" muttered Rock, aloud. "Sure as fate we're goin' to clash."
He strode back to Sol Winter's store.
"Now, son, what's happened?" queried Sol, with concern.
"Lord knows. I--don't," panted Rock, spilling off his sombrero and wiping his face. "But it's--a lot."
"True, you took a shine to Thiry Preston, I seen that. No wonder. She's the sweetest lass who ever struck these parts."
"So, we'll investigate my state of mind last," replied Rock, ruefully. "Listen. I ran into the Preston outfit. At least, two of them." And he related all that had occurred at the corral.
"Same old Rock," mused Winter. "No, not the same, either. There's a difference I can't name yet. Wal, this Preston outfit is sure prominent in these parts. They call them 'The Thirteen Prestons of Sunset Pass.' Nobody seems to know where they come from. Anyway, they drove a herd of cattle in here some time after you left. An' 'ceptin' Ash Preston, they're just about the most likeable outfit you ever seen. Fact is, they're like Thiry. They located in Sunset Pass, right on the Divide. You know the place. An' it wasn't long until they' were known all over the range. Wonderful outfit with horses and ropes."
"Go on, Sol. What was the trouble you had?"
"They ran up a big bill in my store. The old store. I taxed the boys about it. Well, it was Ash Preston who raised the hell. He wasn't drunk then. An', son, you need to be told that Ash is wild when he's drunk. When sober he's--well, he'
s different. Nick was alone in the store. Nick was a spunky lad, you know, an' he razzed Ash somethin' fierce. Result was Ash piled the lad in a corner an' always hated him afterward. Fact is the range talk says Ash Preston hates everybody except Thiry. She's the only one who can do anythin' with him."
"She didn't do a whole lot, today. The drunken--! And Nick was shot off his horse out there in Sunset Pass?"
"Yes. I think Ash Preston must have killed Nick. They must have met an' fought it out. There were four empty shells, fresh shot, in Nick's gun."
"The boy had nerve and he was no slouch with a six-shooter. I wonder--"
"Well, Gage paid the bill. Then for a while he didn't buy from me. But one day Thiry came in, an' ever since I've sold goods to the Prestons. But none of them save Thiry have ever been in my store since."
"Ahuh. Any range talk among the punchers about these Prestons?"
"Well, son, there used to be no more than concerned the Culvers, or Tolls, or Smiths, an' not so much as used to be about the little outfits down in the woods. You know the range. All the outfits eat one another's cattle. It was a kind of unwritten code. But lately, the last two years, conditions have gone on the same, in that way, an' some different in another. I hear a good deal of complaint about the rustlin' of cattle. An' a few dark hints about the Prestons.
"Darn few, mind you, son, an' sure vague an untrailable. It might be owin' to the slow gettin' rich of Gage Preston. It's a fact. He's growin' rich. Not so much in cattle, but in land an' money in bank. I happen to know he has a bank account in Las Vegas. That's pretty far off, an' it looks queer to me. Found it out by accident. I buy from a wholesale grocer in Las Vegas. He happened here, an' in a talk dropped that bit of information. It's sure not known here in Wagontongue."
"Is Gage Preston one of these lone cattlemen?" queried Rock.
"Not now, but he sure was once."
"Who's he in with now?"
"John Dabb. They own the Bar X outfit. It's not so much. Dabb has the big end of it. Then Dabb runs a butcher shop. Fact is he undersold me an' put me out of that kind of business. He buys mostly from Preston. An' he ships a good many beeves."
"Ships? Out of town?"
"I should smile. They have worked into a considerable business. I saw this opportunity years ago. But didn't have the capital."
Rock pondered over his friend's disclosures, and Thiry Preston's sad face returned to haunt him.
"Sol, what do you think about Ash Preston?" asked Rock.
"Well, son, I'm sure curious to ask you that same question," replied Winter. "How did this fellow strike you?"
"Like a hard fist, right in the eye," acknowledged Rock.
"Ahuh. Rock, the Prestons are all out of the ordinary. Take Thiry, for instance. How did she, strike you?"
Trueman placed a slow heavy hand on the region of his heart, as if words were useless.
"Well, I wouldn't give two bits for you if she hadn't. Son, I've a hunch your comin' back means a lot. Wal, to go on--these Prestons are a mighty strikin' outfit. An' Ash Preston stands out even among them. He's a great rider of the range in all pertainin' to that, hard game. He can drink more, fight harder, shoot quicker than any man in these parts. He's sure the meanest, coldest, nerviest, deadliest proposition you're likely to stack up against in your life. I just want to give you a hunch, seein' you went sweet on Thiry."
"Sweet on that girl! No! I've been sweet on a hundred girls. This is different, somethin' terrible. Ten thousand times sweet!"
"Trueman, your trail will sure be rough."
"Listen, old friend. There's only one thing that could stump me. Tell me. Do you know Thiry real well?"
"Yes, son, an' I can answer that question so plain in your eyes. Thiry is not in love with anybody. I know, because she told me herself, not so long ago."
"That'll--help," replied Rock, swallowing hard. "Now, Sol, I'll sneak off alone somewhere and try to find out what's the matter with me--and what to de about it."
Trueman sallied forth into the sunlight like a man possessed. He did not notice the heat while he was striding out of town, but, when he got to the cedars and mounted a slope to a lonely spot he was grateful for the cool shade. He threw aside coat and sombrero, and lay down on the fragrant mat of cedar needles. How good to be there!
Only one thing had stood in the way of a happy return to Wagontongue, and that had been possibility of a clash with Cass Seward, the sheriff. This now no longer perturbed him. It had been reckless, perhaps foolish, for him to come back, when he had known that the probabilities were that Cass would try to make him show yellow and clap him in jail, because of a shooting affray which Rock had not started. But it had been Rock's way to come, not knowing; and that hazard was past. Rock gladly welcomed the fact that he had a clean slate before him.
That grey-eyed girl, Thiry Preston! Here he did surrender. He had been struck through the heart. And all the fight there was seemed directed against himself--a wavering, lessening doubt that he could be as marvelously transformed as he thought. And then, one by one, in solemn procession, there passed before his memory's eye the other girls he had known, trifled with, liked, or loved. He watched them pass by, out of the shade, it seemed, into the past forever.
Thiry Preston had made them vanish, as if by magic. She was the girl. All his life he had been dreaming of her. To realize she actually lived!
At length Rock started to retrace his steps toward town. A young woman coming out of Dabb's large establishment, almost ran into him.
"True Rock.--aren't you going to speak to me?" she burst out.
He knew the voice, the face, too, the sparkling, astonished eyes.
"True--don't you know me? It's Amy."
"Why, Mrs. Dabb, this is a surprise!" he said, doffing his sombrero. "I'm sure glad to see you."
"Mrs. Dabb? Not Amy?" she replied with captivating smile and look Rock found strangely familiar.
"Someone told me you were married to my old boss, John Dabb," said Rock easily. "You sure look fine. And prosperous, too."
She did not like his slow, cool speech.
"True, I can return the compliment. You are handsomer than ever."
"Thanks."
"True, you're not glad to see me," she rejoined petulantly.
"Why, sure I am! Glad you're settled and happy and--"
"Happy! Do I look that?" she interrupted bitterly.
"If my memory's any good you look as gay and happy as ever."
"Your memory is bad--about that--and other things. Trueman, have you come back on a visit?"
"No; I aim to stay. I always was comin' back."
"If you only had come!" She sighed. "I'm glad--terribly glad you're going to stay, We must be good friends again, True, You'll come to, see me--ride with--me--like you used to. Won't you?"
"I'm afraid Mr. Dabb wouldn't like that. He never had any use for me."
"It doesn't matter what he likes. Say you will, Trueman. I'm horribly lonesome."
Rock remembered that Amy had always been a flirt. Evidently she had not changed. He was sorry for her and wished to spare her discomfiture.
"I'll call on you and John sometime," he replied.
"Me and--John! Well, your long absence in Texas hasn't made you, any brighter. I dare say it hasn't changed you any--about girls, either. I saw you with Thiry Preston. At your old tricks, cowboy!"
"Did you? I don't call it old tricks to carry a few bundles for a girl," replied Rock stiffly. It annoyed him to feel the blood heat in his face.
"Bundles, rot!" she retorted. "I know you, True Rock, inside and out. You've lost your head pronto over Thiry Preston."
"I'm not denyin' it, am I?"
She would be his enemy, unless he allowed himself once more to be attached to her train. The idea was preposterous. In a few short hours--no, they were hours incalculably, long in their power--he, had grown past flirting with any woman.
Rock returned to Winter and proceeded to unburden himself.
"So you ran i
nto Amy," meditated Sol, with a thoughtful twinkle. "Wal, son, take my advice and keep shy of Amy, She's got old Dabb so jealous he can't attend to his business. She always has some buckaroo runnin' after her. That won't do for you. The Dabbs about own Wagontongue, not to say a lot of the range outfits. Then I always see Thiry with Amy, when she comes to town. If you aim to snub your old girl for this new one--wal, son, you'll have a tough row to hoe."
"Sol, I'll not snub Amy, but I can't, go playin' round with her. Sol, how much money do you owe?"
"Couple of thousand, an' when that's paid off I'll be on the road to prosperity again."
"Old-timer, you're on it right now. I'll take that much stock in your business," went on Rock, as he took out his pocketbook.
"Son, I don't want you to do that," protested Winter.
"But I want to. I think it's a good investment. Now here's your two thousand. And here's five more, which I want you to put in your bank, on interest. Reckon we'd better add another thousand to that five. I only need enough money to buy a spankin' outfit.
"I'm goin' to be a plain cowpuncher and start in where I left off here six years ago. I want a jim-dandy outfit; two saddle-horses--the best on the range, if money can buy them."
"We can find one of them pronto," replied Winter with satisfaction. "After supper we'll walk out to Leslie's. He's sellin' out an' he has some good stock, One horse in particular. I never saw his beat, Dabb has been hagglin' with Leslie over the price. It's high, but the horse is worth it."
"How much?"
"Three hundred."
"All right, Sol. We'll buy. But I reckon one saddle-horse will do. Then I'll need a pack-horse and outfit. In the mornin' we'll pick out a tarp and blankets, grub and campin' outfit. I've got saddle, bridle, spurs, riata--all Mexican, Sol, and if they don't knock the punchers on this range, I'll eat them. And last, I reckon I'll require some more hardware."
"Ahuh! An' with all this outfit you're headin' for Sunset Pass."
"Yeah. I'm goin' to Gage Preston's and strike him for a job."
"Son, it's a bold move, if it's all on account of Thiry. Gage can't hardly refuse you a job. He needs riders. He has hired about every cowpuncher on the range. But they don't last. Ash gets rid of them, sooner or later. Reckon about as soon as they Shine up to Thiry."