The Deer Stalker

by Zane Grey

  The man stroked his chin and frowned as he regarded her closely, evidently the first time he had taken thoughtful stock of her.

  “Miss Hilton, I fear I flattered you when I called you girlie,” he said bluntly.

  “You bet you did,” she retorted with a dark flush. “You weren’t above trying to flirt with me when you found out I thought I had a line on this Edgerton woman. But I was on to you, Mr. Errol Scott.”

  Eburne had halted a few paces distant from them, somewhat to one side of Miss Hilton. She seemed maliciously absorbed in her little coup.

  “I was going to say ’stung,’ but think I’ll substitute ’scratched,’” he rejoined with a careless laugh.

  Eburne moved forward, then, into range of Miss Hilton’s gaze and he looked at her hard. She gave a violent start and stepped back in such manifest confusion at sight of him that Scott wheeled to see what had caused this sudden change. Eburne gave him the same steady look and then stepped out beyond the two young men, who had not, apparently, been interested in this byplay.

  At this moment a tall, slender woman in a gown of silver sheen that captured radiance from every light about her came down the wide stairway into the lobby. Eburne’s heart gave a great leap. He expected to see Patricia vastly different, and she was, but that lovely face was still the one of his dreams. Her free step, the poise of her head, the distinction of her carriage were the same. It was not the sight of her that lent Eburne his cool, easy command of himself, but what he knew.

  Her dark gaze swept the lobby as she hesitated on the last step. Expectation and a slight smile of pleasure shone upon her face. Eburne felt a strong thrill of pride that he was the object of her search. Then she saw him—and he knew he had been right to come. As he started to advance, she stepped down to meet him.

  The man Scott intercepted her as she was about to greet Eburne.

  “Pat Edgerton! Well, of all people!” he burst out, with the gay suavity of one on familiar ground. “Somebody said you’d gone to Santa Barbara.”

  Eburne’s eager step, his hand almost outstretched, were stayed as if by an invisible barrier. He saw her turn with a barely perceptible start to face the stranger from the East. She had recognized the voice before she saw the speaker. If Eburne ever was thrilled in his life it was then. Her wonderful eyes seemed to dilate with a blaze of dark fire at a shock for which she had not been prepared.

  “How do you do,” she returned with hauteur, and, bowing slightly, she passed him, ignoring his proffered hand, to glide serene and proud up to Eburne.

  “Hello Thad,” she said, and with the words there came an indefinable change of poise, expression, tone. Her perfect command of the situation and the familiarity and warmth of her greeting freed Eburne from the awkwardness of the moment. He could not fail this woman.

  He greeted her in few words and bowed over the hand she gave him.

  “What a surprise,” she continued. “I feared you’d forgotten your visit to the El Tovar. Here it is almost December. I’ve had such wonderful experiences since I saw you last…. How are you, Thad? You seem thin and worn.”

  “I’m well, but pretty tired,” he replied. “And how are you?”

  “Thad, I never had such health. Oh, this glorious West! So much to see and do! Can’t you see the change in me? I was so thin and white.”

  “Perhaps I shall remember presently how you looked,” he laughed.

  “Let us go to dinner,” she said and drew him toward the brightly lighted dining room.

  As they walked in together, Eburne wondered at the suspended state of his emotions. He was listening calmly to her, and presently he was seated at a table near one of the windows, gazing at her.

  “Now let me look at you,” he said. “I want to be sure this is no dream.” And he bent his gaze upon her with thoughtful concentration.

  “Thad, you make me blush,” she protested, with heightened color, and her eyes danced.

  “Sue was right,” was all he said. Yet to himself he confessed that a woman’s beauty was not merely the classic lines of her face, it was how her hair was groomed, it was the contrast of the bare flesh of her neck and arms with the color and material of her gown—all these contributed to her loveliness.

  “You might tell me what she said,” declared Patricia.

  “It’s great to be with you,” he rejoined, suddenly serious, “but before I give way to the sheer happiness of seeing you again—hearing your voice, let me ask you something. Who was the fellow you snubbed outside in the lobby? I know his name is Scott and he hails from New York. But is he someone you used to know?”

  “It is Errol Scott. Yes, he belongs to a part of my life I would gladly forget. I seem to recall that he once did me the honor to ask me to become Mrs. Scott,” replied Patricia. “He’s a New York broker whom I met frequently in my rather mixed set. You heard him call me Pat Edgerton, did you not?”

  “Yes, I did, but I assure you I was not curious about that.”

  “Well, it’s my real name,” she said frankly, with her eyes grave and dark upon his. “But he had not, nor ever had, the right to call me Pat. That was what my few real friends called me.”

  “Pat? How very unsuited to you! I prefer Patricia,” he said, deliberately passing by the opening she gave him. “If you were called Princess Pat, like that beautiful English woman, it would be a little more felicitous.” Here the waitress interrupted him, and there ensued a silence, during which Patricia withdrew her gaze from his. It thrilled him to see that she could not wholly control her agitation where he was concerned.

  “I am not in the least hungry—that is, for food,” he began again presently.

  “Thad, you’ve been taking lessons from that incorrigible cowboy Nels,” she said, shaking her head.

  “In what?”

  She did not reply.

  “Patricia, you haven’t forgotten how I—feel—toward you?” he asked gently.

  “I’m afraid I haven’t,” she admitted. “But I—I believed you had gotten over it.”

  “One doesn’t get over the kind of love I have for you, Patricia. If you could bring yourself to love me, you would know. Time and separation and silence—they only add to the sureness when you realize that you love a person.”

  Her white hands ceased movement, and she sat motionless, with downcast eyes, waiting for the words she knew were coming. Yet she made no move to check them. Leaning across the table, he took one of her cool hands in his and said in a tone that was little above a whisper:

  “Patricia, will you marry me?”

  She began to tremble. Her free hand came up to her face and she leaned her bare elbow on the table. Their faces were only a short distance apart. She looked straight at him with inscrutable dark eyes. But they were the eager eyes of a woman.

  “No, Thad, I can’t,” she said simply and sadly.

  “My dear, you told me over on the North Rim that you had neither husband nor lover nor ties of any kind,” he protested. “Is it that I was mistaken about your caring for me—a little?”

  “No. I do care. Please believe me, Thad. That was my confession when I asked you to come over. But I don’t know how much.”

  “Patricia, even to know that you love me a little makes me the happiest and luckiest of men.”

  “Thad, please don’t make love to me,” she begged.

  “I am not. I’m just asking a few simple questions and telling you some plain facts. Why can’t you marry me?”

  “It wouldn’t be fair,” she murmured.

  “To whom?”

  “You. And your mother—sister, all your family.”

  “Perhaps I would be the best judge of that. But I am asking you nothing, except to be my wife.”

  “No, Thad,” she replied with white, trembling lips. “But I want you to know—you are the only man I ever wanted to marry.”

  “Patricia, isn’t that a confession of love?” he asked.

  “It must stand without any confession,” she said, averting her fac
e. “Thad, here we are in a public dining room, forgetting to eat our dinners, with people staring.”

  “What do I care for these people? I can’t even see them. But one thing more—Patricia, I’ve given up my ranger work.”

  “You have!” she exclaimed in surprise. “When?”

  “I made the decision a few moments ago. And I did it because I am going to follow you everywhere. I shall be like Nels…. Now forgive me for embarrassing you here. But I had to tell you.”

  She regarded him oddly, as if he had presented himself in a strange, new guise, but she did not offer further comment and went on with her dinner. Eburne made a pretense of eating. Presently they got back to conversation, this time about Sue and Nels and McKay’s deer drive. Upon their return to the lobby, which was now well crowded with guests, Patricia said, “Let’s have a look at the Canyon. I’ll get my coat.”

  She returned bareheaded, with the black fur coat enveloping her. They went out together her hand tucked under his arm. The wind blew cold and sweet from the forest; the moon shone white through broken clouds. At the rim they halted to gaze down into the shadowy gulf. It had never seemed just like this to Eburne. He felt Patricia’s hand close upon his arm. Then he turned to her as she gazed down into the depths. How pale and lovely she was! In the mystifying moonlight, standing like that, her dark hair blowing across her brow, her profile pure and cold, she seemed infinitely beyond him, yet he divined that he had won her love and some day would win her as his wife. The moment was beautiful and solemn, and when suddenly she felt impelled to lift her gaze from the Canyon to his face, life became intolerably sweet. The moment there beside that moon-blanched canyon had unconsciously wrung from her what she had denied him in the hotel.

  “Patricia, you are lovely,” he whispered, “and you are as good and true as you are lovely.” He realized that he might have taken her in his arms right then, but he held back. “Come, it is too cold here for you. Besides, I have a train to catch.”

  She did not speak until they reached the steps of the El Tovar.

  “My friend, you have made me happy—and unhappy too,” she said, gravely looking down upon upon him with eyes like black stars. “I will see you in Flagstaff. Good night.”

  He bade her good night and wheeled away to stride down the plank walk to the stairway. Once he looked back. She still was standing where he had left her, but she had turned and was looking out over the moonlit canyon. His heart beat too high and full for his breast.

  Below, the lights of the station gleamed on the snow; the engine puffed and steamed. Eburne reached the level of the platform.

  “Talk of the devil!” exclaimed a voice. “There he is now, walking on air.”

  “For a deer hunter I’ll say he’s pretty smooth,” answered a voice Eburne recognized as Scott’s. “But it gets my goat that Pat should fall for him.”

  Eburne wheeled as in a flash and in two long strides confronted the last speaker.

  “Deer hunters have sharp ears,” he said caustically.

  “Well, then, like all listeners they don’t always hear good of themselves,” retorted Scott thickly.

  “I am indifferent to what I hear about myself, but about a friend —that’s another matter,” returned Eburne, stepping closer. “The familiar use of Miss Edgerton’s pet name by you is offensive to her, and therefore to me.”

  “Why don’t you keep your mouth shut?” demanded the man in harsh amazement.

  Eburne quickly reached out and slapped him so hard that he sat down suddenly in the snow. He got up cursing and swung a cane at Eburne’s head. Throwing up his arm, Eburne caught the force of the blow, snapping the cane like a pipestem. Then Eburne shot out his left hand to clutch Scott’s coat collar.

  “It’s part of a deer hunter’s work to deal with coyotes and skunks,” said Eburne, shoving the man back hard against a post. “I think you’re pretty much of a skunk. Packing around a dirty scandal sheet of a rotten newspaper to inspire gossip about a woman is just about as low-down as a man could get. So, Mr. Errol Scott, I’m handing you one for that!”

  Eburne’s wrath had gathered force with his speech, and he swung his fist in a sweeping arc, flush against the jaw of the surprised easterner. The blow sent Scott’s head back with a sodden thud against the post. He dropped like an empty sack.

  Eburne wiped his hands and turned to the man’s companions.

  “I don’t think much of the company you gentlemen keep,” he said curtly and strode away toward the train.

  When he had found a seat inside, he looked out of the window to see the men bending over Scott’s prostrate form. Just then the conductor shouted “All aboard,” and the train started.

  “Well, I can’t say I’m sorry that post was there,” muttered Eburne. “But I didn’t mean to make him miss the train. I imagine, though, from the look and feel of my fist that he won’t care to go back to the hotel to show his face to Patricia.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  EBURNE arrived in Flagstaff at six o’clock next morning, in the darkness of gray dawn. A nipping cold wind blew in his face as he made his way to the hotel. Flagstaff was situated high up on a bench of the San Francisco Mountains, and winter already had set in. Eburne reflected that McKay had no time to lose if he meant to get his deer drive under way.

  The hotel was about full of guests, which was somewhat unusual for Flagstaff at this season, and Eburne had to accept what quarters were available. The snow squall ceased while he was at breakfast, and the sun came out, dazzlingly bright on a white-mantled world. After breakfast, in the lobby of the hotel, Eburne began to question every man he encountered. It did not take long to find out that Flagstaff was strong for McKay’s deer drive.

  Gradually the lobby filled with men, natives and business people of the town, cowboys, ranchers, taxi drivers, motion picture men, of whom there appeared to be many, motorists on the way to California and others there for the deer drive, and lastly a sprinkling of Indians.

  Presently Nels Stackhouse and Tine Higgenbottom appeared, both as always picturesque in big sombreros, leather coats, overalls, and high boots. This morning, however, they were minus spurs and chaps.

  “You ole deer chaser, put her there,” drawled Nels, thrusting out a red paw.

  “Howdy, Thad” was Tine’s lazy greeting.

  “Nice pert morning, boys,” said Eburne, “and seeing you is good for my eyes.”

  “Say, Nels, he’s sure rarin’ full of pep,” declared Tine to his comrade, and he winked.

  “Thad, I’ll bet you four bits you throwed your pack at the El Tovar on your way over here,” drawled Nels.

  “Won’t bet you, Nels,” returned Thad with a laugh. “Don’t start anything, for you know I always get it on you.”

  “Wal, I reckon you’re here to help McKay, an’ I’ll say you’ve rustled up some job,” said Nels.

  “I’m anxious to get news. But first tell me, how’s Sue?”

  “Just grand. She’ll be runnin’ in to see you sometime.”

  “I’ll sure be glad. And tell me, did you find a ranch that Miss— Miss Clay liked?”

  “I’ll say we did,” replied Nels with beaming face. “Two sections, twelve hundred an’ eighty acres, part in grass an’ the most in timber. Six miles from town. Not a shack or a fence on it. Two big never-failin’ springs, an’ a dandy place to dam up for a lake. There’s a deep, red-walled, wild canyon she just raved about. Fine elevation to build a house, an’ a swell view of the peaks an’ desert.”

  “You don’t say!” ejaculated Eburne, sharing the cowboy’s delight. “That’s great news. I’m glad for her, and for you and Sue.”

  “Thad, you can ring me in on that,” spoke up Tine with a grin. “I’ve got a new job. An’ by golly, there’s enough pine woods an’ deer on this place to give you a job too.”

  Eburne joined in the hearty laugh, but could find no quick retort for the irrepressible Tine.

  “Thad, you can bet I was plumb sick at, first,” went on Nels.
“I just couldn’t find a ranch she would have taken as a gift. We drove an’ rode all over this country from Ash Fork to Gallup. You see I wanted to find a ranch with good roads, cleared land, fences, buildin’s an’ all that, so as to save Miss Clay a lot of money. Finally I got desperate an’ took her out in the woods, to the wildest, roughest country around here. An’ she was tickled to death. I told her it’d cost a thousand times more than it was worth to build a good road through this land, develop water, clear timber off, put up house, cabins, barns, corrals, fences, an’ all the rest she wants. She never batted an eye. All she said was she could give deservin’ men good jobs. An’ she an’ Sue have been drawin’ plans to beat the band.”

  “Nels, I would have taken her to the uncultivated places first,” responded Eburne. “Did she buy the land?”

  “I’ll say she did,” declared Nels shortly.

  “Drawing plans,” mused Eburne. “I can appreciate the fun and happiness of that, especially when it is to make others happy besides yourself. But Nels, winter has come with a whoop. You can’t begin that work till spring. What are your other plans?”

  “We been waitin’ on this deer drive,” rejoined Nels seriously. “Sue an’ Miss Clay are crazy to go. An’ there are other women as keen about it. Me an’ Tine haven’t made a kick. Been waitin’ for you. Thad, you’ll have to put the kibosh on this deer drive for the womenfolk, at least those we are responsible for.”

  “Nels, you’re right,” said Thad thoughtfully. “It’s too far and cold. We’re going to get snowed in. They’d suffer too much hardship, for something we are by no means sure of. It’ll be a great disappointment to them, but I believe it’s up to us to prevent their going if we can.”

  “Say, why don’t you tell Thad the big plan?” blurted out Tine. “Modest an’ bashful, huh? Why, you used to have more gall an’ brass than any cowpuncher—”

  “Tine, I think heaps of you,” drawled Nels in interruption, “but, you just got to look at me with respect.”