by Zane Grey
“I reckon it’d be a good idea to wrangle our burros an’ horses,” Kalispel remarked, thoughtfully, to Jake.
“Shore would, an’ grain ’em good before thet drill out.”
“All right, let’s rustle breakfast,” replied Kalispel, brightening with the definite decision. Something dragged darkly at him, holding him back, a cold grim passion hard to relinquish. “Then you go downtown an’ buy a sack of grain, a pair of alfagos—I want two strong ones—an’ let’s see. I’ll figure on it....I’ll rustle the stock.”
“Kal, hadn’t you better stay in camp an’ let me do the rustlin’?” queried Jake, gruffly. “You got the girl hyar, an’ our cabin is shore strong built. With them two rifles you could keep off——”
“Hell!” ejaculated Kalispel. “I reckon I had. But after yesterday, wouldn’t you figure Leavitt to lay low an’ let me shake the dust of Thunder City?”
“You mean mud, son,” replied Jake. “My idea, Kal, is that when you think, you shore get those deals right. But you had hell yesterday an’ you ain’t thinkin’. I’ve a hunch Leavitt had somethin’ up his sleeve organizin’ them vigilantes.”
“Ah-huh. Wal, I’ll think,” snapped Kalispel, between his teeth. “An I’m thinkin’ I’d better see Masters pronto.”
“I’ll send him up hyar,” replied Jake, hurriedly, with a speculative glance at his brother. “After we eat I’ll rustle. An’ you get to packin’. This storm will let up today, an’ in a couple of days we can be on the move.”
Later Kalispel knocked on the cabin door.
“Come in,” replied Ruth.
Kalispel entered to find her in bed, with the red blanket tucked up under her chin.
“Wal, ain’t you ashamed, you sleepy-head?” was his greeting as he stepped close to look down upon her with a queer sensation of possessiveness.
“Is it late?” she asked, smiling up at him.
“No. I was just foolin’. Can I fetch in a pan of hot water? An’ after that some rice, bacon, coffee, an’ a biscuit? You don’t need to get up. It’s a rotten day. Did you hear the storm?”
“Storm? No, I didn’t.”
“Dead to the world! Gosh! If you didn’t hear the thunder, you should have heard Jake cussin’. He woke up in a puddle....All right, I’ll fetch things in. Reckon I might as well get used to bein’ your maid.”
“It’ll be the other way around.”
“Say, what’s all this?”
“My bags. Barnes brought them last night.”
“Lady, you’ll require a whole pack-train. Gosh! Ruth, we only got six burros.”
“We’ll burn my dance-hall clothes.”
“All except that skimpy blue thing you had on the first time I saw you in Salmon. You shore caught my eye, kid!”
“We’ll burn that, too, darling.”
Kalispel beat a hasty retreat, presently to carry in a pan of water and her breakfast on top of a box. She sat up like a delighted child.
“Kalispel Montana, my maid and cook!” she exclaimed. “Who would believe it? ... Put the box here and give me the pan on my lap. And hand me that small bag....Oh, don’t go, Kal....unless you’re busy.”
“I’m shore busy,” replied Kalispel, lamely, and he went out. He had been struck with something new and sweet in the intimacy of that moment, in the girl’s beauty, in the blue eyes that appeared glad for his presence. He sensed a problem to be contended with in the future. But he dismissed disturbing reflections and set to work at the many tasks.
Jake returned to report that Masters had been flooded out, like many others who had tents and shacks close to the treacherous slope of silt. Masters would call on him later in the day. But the busy hours passed by without the sheriff putting in an appearance. Jake finally rounded up all the stock, and with them in the corral, Kalispel began to have visions of the long winding trail down to the Salmon. Suddenly, then, he remembered the ranch he had coveted so dearly; and with a sense of exultation, he realized that he had the gold to buy and improve and stock a dozen such ranches. Ruth must be his wife. He resolved not to distress her now, but when they got to Challis he would insist on marriage in name at least. It was the only way he could really protect her and silence gossip for good and all.
It had rained on and off until midaftemoon, when the clouds broke, showing a bit of blue sky and a gleam of sun. Ruth emerged to stretch her legs, she said, and she wandered around among the huge boulders, going as far as the stream, which was now a torrent. She came back to tell how the miners were moving back off their claims. All at once the sun shone out strong, and as if in happy augury of the future, it appeared to strike a bright glory from Ruth’s golden head.
“Oh, there is Miss Blair—watching us!” cried Ruth, suddenly, and then, with scarlet face she went indoors.
Kalispel did not look in the direction of the Blair cabin. His great pity went out to Ruth; but still, if Sydney was hurt, as it seemed she was, he felt an unavailing sorrow.
Kalispel had hidden his bags of gold dust and nuggets under the flat hearthstone in front of the open fireplace. Beneath this was a hoiiow boulder, the opening of which he had discovered by accident and which would not be easily detected. For the present he did not want either Jake or Ruth to learn about his treasure.
That night while Ruth slept and Jake worked outside, Kalispel packed the gold in two alfagos and hid them under the pile of firewood in the corner of the cabin.
When at length he went out to go to bed, Jake remarked with great satisfaction, “It’s clearin’ off cold.” The stars were shining white, and a nipping wind blew down from the heights. Before Kalispel went to sleep, he had decided that it would be sensible to try to avoid trouble with Leavitt. If anything happened to him, Ruth might be left alone. When he analyzed this deduction he found that life had become singularly and incomprehensibly sweet. This for a cowboy whose heart had been broken was thought-provoking.
The day dawned frosty and bright. Miners were astir early, and two pack-trains left while Jake was getting breakfast.
“They’re beginnin’ to drift out,” said Jake. “An’ I’ll have all our pack-saddles an’ harness mended today.”
“Brother, I reckon you’re not in any hurry atall to shake the gold dust of Thunder City,” drawled Kalispel.
“Kal, one of my hunches is workin’,” nodded Jake, somberly.
“Which one?”
“Wal, two hunches, in fact.”
“You an’ your hunches!”
“Hell, man! Tell me one thet never worked out.”
“Forced to think of them, Jake, I’ll be darned if I can remember one that didn’t....Oh yes, you were wrong about old Thunder Mountain.”
“How so?”
“Why, you always croaked about old Thunder Mountain slidin’ down on us.”
“Wal, she ain’t yet, thet’s true,” admitted Jake, morosely.
Ruth came out to interrupt the gloomy conversation. She wore a gray woolen dress, and with some color in her cheeks this morning, she made a picture from which Kalispel found it difficult to keep his eyes. She extended her small hands to the fire. “Gee! it’s cold,” she said, merrily. “I don’t see that you gentlemen have proceeded far with breakfast.”
“My land! gurl, we jest got up,” retorted Jake, who had taken a decided liking to Ruth and delighted to serve her. “An’ you’re springin’ somethin’ on us this mornin’.”
“Ruth, do you like cold weather?” asked Kalispel, thoughtfully.
“Love it. I came from Wisconsin, you know.”
“Ump-umm, I didn’t know. An’ can you ride a horse?” He went on, eyeing her slim lithe figure.
“Can I ride a horse! Listen to him, Jake....Can a duck swim?”
“Say, kid, where’d you ever ride?” queried Kalispel, hopefully.
“Kal, you’ll be tickled when I tell you that I was a regular cowgirl once.”
“No!”
“Honest Injun.”
“Wal, I’ll be dog-goned!” ejacula
ted Kalispel, radiantly. “Where an’ when?”
“My dad moved to Wyoming when I was twelve,” Ruth answered, subtly changing. “He bought out a rancher near Chadron——”
“Chadron!... Why, Ruth, that’s near Cheyenne. I rode there, myself.”
“Must have been before my time,” she went on, while Jake drank in her words. “You see, I left there only three years ago. Dad did well for a while—until the rustlers cleaned him out. He never got over that. It killed him....I was left to the tender mercy of a step-mother....and well—I was sixteen when I came to Cliff Borden’s dance-hall....”
Kalispel’s sudden transition from keen delight to bitterness left him speechless.
“Don’t look so—so terrible, Kal,” she said. “I had to work or starve—and Borden lied to me about the job. But it’s all over now. Oh, Kal!... I know I’ve been such a trouble for you all along. Worrying and fighting over me!—But just realize, if you can, how blessed good you’ve been for me....And, Kal, when we’re away from this madhole we’ll forget. Then I’ll make it up to you.”
“Let’s get away pronto,” replied Kalispel, with one of his flashes of passion. “This afternoon or tomorrow, shore. Jake, rustle breakfast. Then pack. Put Ruth’s bags in the canvas packs. An’ you, young lady, get into your blue jeans. Keep out a warm coat, gloves, boots. It’ll be a tough ride for a couple of days. Soon as I eat a bite I’ll rustle down to see Masters. He’s been pretty decent, or I wouldn’t go at all. I want to tip him off. An’ I reckon.... that’ll let me out here.”
“You reckon? Aren’t you sure, Kal?” queried Ruth, a doubt edging into her face.
“Gosh! you can’t be shore of anythin’ except death.”
“Promise me you won’t look up Leavitt,” she entreated.
“Wal, that’s easy. I promise....But if I meet him...”
“Bore him an’ rustle back here to tell me,” interrupted Jake, coolly. “An’ then I’ll show you some real packin’.”
Soon Kalispel sallied forth on his last visit to Thunder City. At Blair’s cabin two packers were busy assorting and weighing packs. Burros, not yet saddled, stood haltered to the porch. Blair waved cheerfully to Kalispel: “We’re leaving today.” And Kalispel replied just as cheerfully: “So are we. Hope we see you on the trail.” Sydney appeared in the rider’s garb in which Kalispel had admired her so exceedingly. He suffered a divided pang—one of regret and the other of relief. Those proud dark eyes were not destined to shine upon him. They watched him pass by, intent and haunting as ever. But she made no mention.
The sun had just come up bright over the eastern mountain-top, to shine down upon the flooded valley. Thin skins of ice glistened on the ponds; white frost burned like diamonds on the roofs of the shacks; blue columns of smoke curled upward; and the swollen stream brawled on its swift, noisy way toward the canyon.
On the hillsides and high parts of the benches the miners had returned to their blasting, digging, panning. But two miles of flooded claims along the stream had left hundreds of men idle. Therefore the main street of Thunder City presented the spectacle of a circus day in a small town.
Kalispel hoped to escape notice in the crowd, and succeeded to some extent. He found Masters in his half-demolished shack, a pondering and somber man.
“Howdy, Kal,” he drawled, with those penetrating gray eyes hard on his visitor. “You look fine for a hombre who’s just added another notch to his gun.”
“Aw, I’m fine as silk. Leavin’ today, Masters.”
“Good. Did your brother give you my message?”
“All he said was that you’d be up to see me.”
“Nix. I told him no—an’ for you to rustle out of heah quick.”
“Wal, he didn’t tell me, the son-of-a-gun. What’s up, old-timer?”
“Reckon I cain’t find out all thet’s doin’ in this heah gold-camp, but the little I know is shore enough.”
“Uh-huh—Wal, if it’s enough for an old Texas steer like you, it’ll be more’n enough for Kal Emerson. But come on with it.”
“Leavitt took over Borden’s property, on half shares an’ debts, he claims. My show of friendship for you ’pears to have riled the judge. He politely sent me word to turn over my office an’ my badge.”
“The hell he did! Wal, of all the gall!—Masters, you wouldn’t think of that?”
“Wal, ordinarily I wouldn’t. But I didn’t seek this job. My friends shoved it on me. An’ now most of them have packed an’ gone. The bottom is droppin’ out of this boom, Kal. I reckon I couldn’t locate a dozen men who’d back me in any deal against Leavitt. So what is there in it for me?”
“Damn little, if you’re askin’,” replied Kalispel, shortly. “But are you goin’ to let Leavitt bluff you?”
“No man ever bluffed a Texan Ranger,” drawled Masters. “I’m just sore enough to resign, pack, an’ get ready to leave with my friends—then call on Leavitt to leave my caird.”
“Your card?—Ah-huh, I savvy,” rejoined Kalispel, with a cool ring in his voice. “By thunder! I’d like to do that. But I promised Ruth I’d not look Leavitt up.”
“Square of you. Thet girl is deservin’, Kal. An’ about the prettiest one I’ve seen since I left Santone.”
“Old-timer, I’d shore feel better if I knew you was goin’ to present my compliments to Leavitt....Listen, this is what I came down to tell you. Leavitt is at the head of this bandit gang, an’ he’s runnin’ it shore slick.”
“Emerson, are you sure?” queried the Texan, leaning forward like a striking hawk.
“Hell, yes!” whispered Kalispel. “I stood under Leavitt’s window an’ heard him betray himself. It was I who put that scar over Macabe’s ear. Macabe, Leslie, Struthers, all right-hand men of Leavitt’s. An’ it’s somethin’ to figure on that Macabe implicated only Borden in the Sloan case. Leavitt can run men of that caliber. But he’s also a common, low-down, two-bit thief, a second-hand murderer, an’ a slick-tongued deceiver of women.”
“An’ don’t forget he’s a leader of Thunder Mountain’s vigilantes!”
“Masters, has he really carried it as far as that?”
“Rumors are flyin’ thick as autumn leaves. I don’t know what is true an’ what’s false. But now I’ll bet my guns thet Leavitt has gone through with it. He hasn’t been seen downtown since you shot Borden. Nobody knows what’s up, an’ everybody’s figgerin’. But for me you’ve about cleared it up.”
“Ah-huh. You get my hunch. If Leavitt has organized a vigilante committee you can bet your last dollar the men in it are his hold-up gang.”
“Precisely. A damn slick dodge! We underrated this man Leavitt....An’ now, Kal, my advice to you is rustle out of heah hell for leather!”
Kalispel got up with a cool little laugh and a sharp hitch of his belt.
“Shake. An’ that’s my advice to you.”
“I’ll trail you up street a ways.”
Kalispel did not like the suspense in the Texan’s mien and voice. There was something in the wind. The instant Kalispel got outside, he was amazed to find that the street that had been noisy and animated a few minutes before was now silent, empty except at the extreme lower end. There strung across from Borden’s hall to the Last Chance Saloon stood five masked men, armed with rifles.
Kalispel cursed as a fiery current ran along his veins. Vigilantes! He could not see the upper end of the street, because it curved slightly. His thoughts centered around the query—did the presence of those vigilantes have to do with his visit to town? He decided to cut through the first alley between buildings to make the creek trail. Once back at his cabin, he and Jake could hold off any reasonable number of men.
There were no alleys near. He must go through a store or saloon. Faces appeared in doors across the street. Everybody in town knew——
“Hands up, Emerson!”
The rough, deadly voice, nervous in its timbre, carried threat of instant death. Kalispel had heard that note before. Freezing in his tracks, he
elevated his arms high above his head.
“Up they are!” he ejaculated, damning himself for over-confidence.
“Keep ’em thar.” Cautious, heavy steps sounded with that voice. “Frisk him, Dan.”
Rude hands jerked his guns from his belt. He heard the click of a hammer being raised, then felt the hard prod of a gun-barrel against his back.
“March!”
Kalispel strode up the middle of the street, with his heavy-booted captors close behind. And he heard the slam of doors, the buzz of voices, shouts and trampling of feet. As he turned the slight bend, he saw far at the upper end of this trap, five more masked vigilantes on guard. Cold fury possessed Kalispel, and for a moment he saw red. In the power of the vigilantes! That meant Leavitt. Instantly he realized the grave nature of the predicament. He had been in close quarters before, but never in a situation so perilous as this. A sensation of futility and despair assailed him. Leavitt had hatched some plot to capture and execute him. Probably he had discovered the loss of Blair’s money and the gold, and had connected Kalispel with its disappearance. Possibly Sydney had betrayed him. Suddenly Kalispel remembered Ruth, and then indeed life became significant for him. A rush of tremendous spirit banished his fears. He would get out of this. There would be a way.
“What’s the deal, boss?” he asked.
“It’s a straight hand, Emerson, without cards to you,” came the reply.
Kalispel was marched up the street, where, at the end, the five masked vigilantes led the way toward Leavitt’s cabin and mill. Judging from the increasing hum and trample in the rear, all of Thunder City was in attendance. It seemed a long walk to Kalispel, and he had to muster all his nerve to dam emotions that might militate against his readiness to seize any opportunity.