by Zane Grey
CHAPTER XXII. RIDERS OF THE PURPLE SAGE
Black Star and Night, answering to spur, swept swiftly westward alongthe white, slow-rising, sage-bordered trail. Venters heard a mournfulhowl from Ring, but Whitie was silent. The blacks settled into theirfleet, long-striding gallop. The wind sweetly fanned Venters's hot face.From the summit of the first low-swelling ridge he looked back. Lassiterwaved his hand; Jane waved her scarf. Venters replied by standing in hisstirrups and holding high his sombrero. Then the dip of the ridge hidthem. From the height of the next he turned once more. Lassiter, Jane,and the burros had disappeared. They had gone down into the Pass.Venters felt a sensation of irreparable loss.
"Bern--look!" called Bess, pointing up the long slope.
A small, dark, moving dot split the line where purple sage met blue sky.That dot was a band of riders.
"Pull the black, Bess."
They slowed from gallop to canter, then to trot. The fresh and eagerhorses did not like the check.
"Bern, Black Star has great eyesight."
"I wonder if they're Tull's riders. They might be rustlers. But it's allthe same to us."
The black dot grew to a dark patch moving under low dust clouds. It grewall the time, though very slowly. There were long periods when it was inplain sight, and intervals when it dropped behind the sage. The blackstrotted for half an hour, for another half-hour, and still the movingpatch appeared to stay on the horizon line. Gradually, however, as timepassed, it began to enlarge, to creep down the slope, to encroach uponthe intervening distance.
"Bess, what do you make them out?" asked Venters. "I don't think they'rerustlers."
"They're sage-riders," replied Bess. "I see a white horse and severalgrays. Rustlers seldom ride any horses but bays and blacks."
"That white horse is Tull's. Pull the black, Bess. I'll get down andcinch up. We're in for some riding. Are you afraid?"
"Not now," answered the girl, smiling.
"You needn't be. Bess, you don't weigh enough to make Black Star knowyou're on him. I won't be able to stay with you. You'll leave Tull andhis riders as if they were standing still."
"How about you?"
"Never fear. If I can't stay with you I can still laugh at Tull."
"Look, Bern! They've stopped on that ridge. They see us."
"Yes. But we're too far yet for them to make out who we are. They'llrecognize the blacks first. We've passed most of the ridges and thethickest sage. Now, when I give the word, let Black Star go and ride!"
Venters calculated that a mile or more still intervened between themand the riders. They were approaching at a swift canter. Soon Ventersrecognized Tull's white horse, and concluded that the riders hadlikewise recognized Black Star and Night. But it would be impossible forTull yet to see that the blacks were not ridden by Lassiter and Jane.Venters noted that Tull and the line of horsemen, perhaps ten or twelvein number, stopped several times and evidently looked hard down theslope. It must have been a puzzling circumstance for Tull. Venterslaughed grimly at the thought of what Tull's rage would be when hefinally discovered the trick. Venters meant to sheer out into the sagebefore Tull could possibly be sure who rode the blacks.
The gap closed to a distance of half a mile. Tull halted. His riderscame up and formed a dark group around him. Venters thought he saw himwave his arms and was certain of it when the riders dashed into thesage, to right and left of the trail. Tull had anticipated just the moveheld in mind by Venters.
"Now Bess!" shouted Venters. "Strike north. Go round those riders andturn west."
Black Star sailed over the low sage, and in a few leaps got into hisstride and was running. Venters spurred Night after him. It was hardgoing in the sage. The horses could run as well there, but keen eyesightand judgment must constantly be used by the riders in choosing ground.And continuous swerving from aisle to aisle between the brush, andleaping little washes and mounds of the pack-rats, and breaking throughsage, made rough riding. When Venters had turned into a long aisle hehad time to look up at Tull's riders. They were now strung out into anextended line riding northeast. And, as Venters and Bess were holdingdue north, this meant, if the horses of Tull and his riders had thespeed and the staying power, they would head the blacks and turn themback down the slope. Tull's men were not saving their mounts; they weredriving them desperately. Venters feared only an accident to Black Staror Night, and skilful riding would mitigate possibility of that. Oneglance ahead served to show him that Bess could pick a course throughthe sage as well as he. She looked neither back nor at the runningriders, and bent forward over Black Star's neck and studied the groundahead.
It struck Venters, presently, after he had glanced up from time to time,that Bess was drawing away from him as he had expected. He had, however,only thought of the light weight Black Star was carrying and of hissuperior speed; he saw now that the black was being ridden as neverbefore, except when Jerry Card lost the race to Wrangle. How easily,gracefully, naturally, Bess sat her saddle! She could ride! SuddenlyVenters remembered she had said she could ride. But he had not dreamedshe was capable of such superb horsemanship. Then all at once, flashingover him, thrilling him, came the recollection that Bess was Oldring'sMasked Rider.
He forgot Tull--the running riders--the race. He let Night have a freerein and felt him lengthen out to suit himself, knowing he would keep toBlack Star's course, knowing that he had been chosen by the best ridernow on the upland sage. For Jerry Card was dead. And fame had rivaledhim with only one rider, and that was the slender girl who now swung soeasily with Black Star's stride. Venters had abhorred her notoriety, butnow he took passionate pride in her skill, her daring, her power overa horse. And he delved into his memory, recalling famous rides which hehad heard related in the villages and round the camp-fires. Oldring'sMasked Rider! Many times this strange rider, at once well known andunknown, had escaped pursuers by matchless riding. He had to run thegantlet of vigilantes down the main street of Stone Bridge, leaving deadhorses and dead rustlers behind. He had jumped his horse over the GerberWash, a deep, wide ravine separating the fields of Glaze from thewild sage. He had been surrounded north of Sterling; and he had brokenthrough the line. How often had been told the story of day stampedes,of night raids, of pursuit, and then how the Masked Rider, swift as thewind, was gone in the sage! A fleet, dark horse--a slender, dark form--ablack mask--a driving run down the slope--a dot on the purple sage--ashadowy, muffled steed disappearing in the night!
And this Masked Rider of the uplands had been Elizabeth Erne!
The sweet sage wind rushed in Venters's face and sang a song in hisears. He heard the dull, rapid beat of Night's hoofs; he saw Black Stardrawing away, farther and farther. He realized both horses were swingingto the west. Then gunshots in the rear reminded him of Tull. Venterslooked back. Far to the side, dropping behind, trooped the riders. Theywere shooting. Venters saw no puffs or dust, heard no whistling bullets.He was out of range. When he looked back again Tull's riders had givenup pursuit. The best they could do, no doubt, had been to get nearenough to recognize who really rode the blacks. Venters saw Tulldrooping in his saddle.
Then Venters pulled Night out of his running stride. Those few miles hadscarcely warmed the black, but Venters wished to save him. Bess turned,and, though she was far away, Venters caught the white glint of herwaving hand. He held Night to a trot and rode on, seeing Bess and BlackStar, and the sloping upward stretch of sage, and from time to time thereceding black riders behind. Soon they disappeared behind a ridge, andhe turned no more. They would go back to Lassiter's trail and follow it,and follow in vain. So Venters rode on, with the wind growing sweeterto taste and smell, and the purple sage richer and the sky bluer in hissight; and the song in his ears ringing. By and by Bess halted to waitfor him, and he knew she had come to the trail. When he reached her itwas to smile at sight of her standing with arms round Black Star's neck.
"Oh, Bern! I love him!" she cried. "He's beautiful; he knows; and howhe can run! I've had fast horses. But Black Star!.
.. Wrangle never beathim!"
"I'm wondering if I didn't dream that. Bess, the blacks are grand. Whatit must have cost Jane--ah!--well, when we get out of this wild countrywith Star and Night, back to my old home in Illinois, we'll buy abeautiful farm with meadows and springs and cool shade. There we'll turnthe horses free--free to roam and browse and drink--never to feel a spuragain--never to be ridden!"
"I would like that," said Bess.
They rested. Then, mounting, they rode side by side up the white trail.The sun rose higher behind them. Far to the left a low line of greenmarked the site of Cottonwoods. Venters looked once and looked nomore. Bess gazed only straight ahead. They put the blacks to thelong, swinging rider's canter, and at times pulled them to a trot, andoccasionally to a walk. The hours passed, the miles slipped behind, andthe wall of rock loomed in the fore. The Notch opened wide. It was arugged, stony pass, but with level and open trail, and Venters and Bessran the blacks through it. An old trail led off to the right, takingthe line of the wall, and this Venters knew to be the trail mentioned byLassiter.
The little hamlet, Glaze, a white and green patch in the vast waste ofpurple, lay miles down a slope much like the Cottonwoods slope, onlythis descended to the west. And miles farther west a faint green spotmarked the location of Stone Bridge. All the rest of that world wasseemingly smooth, undulating sage, with no ragged lines of canyons toaccentuate its wildness.
"Bess, we're safe--we're free!" said Venters. "We're alone on the sage.We're half way to Sterling."
"Ah! I wonder how it is with Lassiter and Miss Withersteen."
"Never fear, Bess. He'll outwit Tull. He'll get away and hide hersafely. He might climb into Surprise Valley, but I don't think he'll goso far."
"Bern, will we ever find any place like our beautiful valley?"
"No. But, dear, listen. Well go back some day, after years--ten years.Then we'll be forgotten. And our valley will be just as we left it."
"What if Balancing Rock falls and closes the outlet to the Pass?"
"I've thought of that. I'll pack in ropes and ropes. And if the outlet'sclosed we'll climb up the cliffs and over them to the valley and go downon rope ladders. It could be done. I know just where to make the climb,and I'll never forget."
"Oh yes, let us go back!"
"It's something sweet to look forward to. Bess, it's like all the futurelooks to me."
"Call me--Elizabeth," she said, shyly.
"Elizabeth Erne! It's a beautiful name. But I'll never forget Bess. Doyou know--have you thought that very soon--by this time to-morrow--youwill be Elizabeth Venters?"
So they rode on down the old trail. And the sun sloped to the west, anda golden sheen lay on the sage. The hours sped now; the afternoon waned.Often they rested the horses. The glisten of a pool of water in a hollowcaught Venters's eye, and here he unsaddled the blacks and let them rolland drink and browse. When he and Bess rode up out of the hollow the sunwas low, a crimson ball, and the valley seemed veiled in purple fireand smoke. It was that short time when the sun appeared to rest beforesetting, and silence, like a cloak of invisible life, lay heavy on allthat shimmering world of sage.
They watched the sun begin to bury its red curve under the dark horizon.
"We'll ride on till late," he said. "Then you can sleep a little,while I watch and graze the horses. And we'll ride into Sterling earlyto-morrow. We'll be married!... We'll be in time to catch the stage.We'll tie Black Star and Night behind--and then--for a country not wildand terrible like this!"
"Oh, Bern!... But look! The sun is setting on the sage--the last timefor us till we dare come again to the Utah border. Ten years! Oh, Bern,look, so you will never forget!"
Slumbering, fading purple fire burned over the undulating sage ridges.Long streaks and bars and shafts and spears fringed the far westernslope. Drifting, golden veils mingled with low, purple shadows. Colorsand shades changed in slow, wondrous transformation.
Suddenly Venters was startled by a low, rumbling roar--so low that itwas like the roar in a sea-shell.
"Bess, did you hear anything?" he whispered.
"No."
"Listen!... Maybe I only imagined--Ah!"
Out of the east or north from remote distance, breathed an infinitelylow, continuously long sound--deep, weird, detonating, thundering,deadening--dying.