Collected Works of Zane Grey, page 1011
“They’ve gone from bad to worse. John, I told you I was in love with Thiry. Well, that wasn’t so bad. But now she’s in love with me.”
“Humph!” said Dabb, chewing at his cigar. “You goin’ to stick out there? And go under with Preston?”
“Reckon I must — if he goes under.”
“Naturally you have your hopes. Rock, some of us cattlemen know you haven’t looked for anythin shady about Preston.”
“How do you know?”
“Well, that question came up the other night at our Association meeting. Hesbitt gave you a hard rub. Over this Preston scandal. Tom Lincoln an’ I an’ one or two others took exception to Hesbitt. We claimed you not only weren’t in with Preston on anythin’ crooked, but you hadn’t trailed around lookin for it. The reason, of course, was you were sweet on Thiry Preston.”
“John, that was damned good of you,” returned Rock warmly. “You an’ Lincoln figured that if I had looked for shady work I’d have found it?”
“Sure. We knew that. No outfit could fool you. Now, tell me what’s worryin’ you, Rock?”
“Hesbitt’s outfits are after Preston,” replied Rock, and he gave Dabb a detailed account of Dunne’s manoeuvre at the Notch camp, and what had come of it.
“Rock, that was a bold move an’ a wise one. But suppose you meet this Dunne again, in more favourable circumstances for him, an’ he shows fight?”
“I’d hate it, but I’ll sure go through with my call. No cowman can insult me like that. He’ll either crawl again, as he did then, or shoot.”
“Rock, I’m darn glad you told me this. In the first place it vindicates Lincoln an’ me in our stand for you. An’ it will stump Hesbitt.”
“Ahuh! Then this new rancher is dead set against Preston?”
“Is he? Well, I guess! An’ he has his outfits r’arin’. Rock, the strange thing is, Hesbitt has been losin’ a good deal of stock — most Half Moon brand — an’ his men can’t locate them. Hide nor hair! But other men have!”
“Dabb, what’re you tellin’ me?”
“Don’t yell, cowboy,” admonished Dabb. “Rock, now listen. You once rode for Jess Slagle. Preston ruined Slagle. An Slagle has hung around out there to get even. Reckon he’s in a fair way to do it. For he has tracked the Prestons down. But he wants to get his money back, or some of it. Sure he knows if he threatens Preston with exposure he’ll only get shot for his pains. So he came to me.”
“Aw, this’s awful!” groaned Rock. “Jess Slagle has tracked Preston down? What to, John?”
“Fresh Half Moon hides hidden close to where Preston last butchered. I called Tom Lincoln in to talk it over. We advised Slagle to keep mum an’ wait.”
“What was the idea in that?”
“Well, we’re all ranchers, you know,” replied Dabb meditatively. “In a little way, more or less, we ve all appropriated cattle not our own. Reckon we hate to make a move. The stolen cattle were not ours, you see. It’ll mean a fight. An’ we’ve passed the buck to Hesbitt.”
“No, John; by heavens! you’ve passed it to me!” returned Rock.
“Now, Rock, you don’t want to take this deal on your shoulders,” protested Dabb.
“Would you? I put it up to you straight,” demanded Rock eloquently. “Suppose you loved Thiry. Suppose she loved you, and you’d found out what a sweet girl she is — that if her father went to jail it’d break her heart — or kill her. Now what would you do?”
“Rock, I’m damned if I know,” replied Dabb, red in the face.
“Dabb, here’s what I’ll do. I’ll buy Slagle’s silence. I’ve five thousand dollars in the bank. I’ll stop Gage Preston’s stealin’ before it’s too late. And if I have to, I’ll call Ash Preston out!”
“No! No!” exclaimed Dabb violently. “Not that last, anyway. Rock, will you never settle down to peaceful ranchin’? You might be a credit to this range. Suppose you come to my house for dinner tonight. I’ll have Tom Lincoln. We’ll talk it over.”
It was dusk when Rock walked out to the mansion that was John Dabb’s home, and was admitted to a cheerful library and the presence of Dabb and Lincoln.
“Howdy, Rock!” was Dabb’s greeting. “Tom, you remember True Rock, don’t you?”
Lincoln was a little grey withered cattleman, bright of eye, lean of face. He looked like a Texas Ranger, and had been one in his day.
“I shore do,” replied Lincoln, extending a hand. “Howdy, Rock!”
“Sit down, friends,” said Dabb. “Now, Rock, I’ve talked your trouble over with Tom, an’ here’s his angle. I’m bound to say I think it a solution to a nasty problem. At that it hinges most on you. Go back to Preston an’ tell him the truth. That he’s found out by some cattlemen, an’ he must quit his butcherin’ stolen cattle before Hesbitt gets on to him.
“Tell him he’s to come before the Cattle Association. We’ll keep the deal out of Court an’ Preston out of jail, provided he pays Slagle off, an’ squares Nesbitt for the stock he has lost. Then Preston an’ his four sons, especially this Ash Preston, who’s the ringleader, no doubt, must leave the country.”
“Wonderful fair and fine of you gentlemen,” returned Rock. “Reckon I couldn’t find words to thank you. I won’t try.”
“Wal, Rock, it’s about this heah way,” put in Lincoln, with his slow Southern accent. “We don’t want the range slandered by such a raw case. Who’d ever think the Prestons would stoop to that? Mrs. Preston is a nice woman and the girls are ladies. Shore they cain’t be in on the secret. We’d like to keep Preston out of jail for their sake.”
“All right, Rock. What do you say?” queried Dabb. “Will you settle it?”
“Yes, with one reservation,” replied Rock grimly. “I can manage Preston. But when Ash finds out, he’ll fight. He can’t be persuaded and he can’t be frightened.”
“Shore. An’ your reservation is you’ll have to kill him,” interposed the imperturbable Texan, his bright eyes on Rock.
Rock did not make any reply.
“Darn tough on the girl. My wife says she loves this particular brother,” added Dabb regretfully.
“Reckon it’s tougher on Rock, but quien sabe? You shore cain’t ever tell aboot a woman,” rejoined Lincoln.
CHAPTER 14
ROCK REINED HIS horse in front of Slagle’s cabin, and dismounted to approach that individual.
“Slagle, I want to talk Dutch to you,” said Rock. “Dabb told me you’d come to him with proof of Preston’s guilt.”
“The devil he did!”
“Yes, and my business with you is to buy your silence.”
Slagle listened intensely to Rocks story. “Say cowboy, air you makin’ this offer on your own hook?” he queried.
“Sure. I told only Sol Winter, who had my money banked.”
“What on earth fer? Rock, excuse me, but it looks darn queer.”
“Jess, I’m not in on the Preston steal, and you sure know that. I’m tryin’ to stall the thing off. Now I figure you as pretty sore, and I don’t blame you. What’ll you take to keep mum?”
“Rock, Lord knows I need money, but I ain’t so low down I’d take a cowboy’s savin’s. What’s your idee? You shore can’t care thet much about Preston.”
“Jess, I love Thiry Preston and I’m goin’ to save her dad because of that.”
“I savvy. Shore call it decent of you. Makes me want to act square with you. An’ the fact is, Rock, I couldn’t prove anythin’ on Preston now. The Half Moon hides have been moved from where I found them.”
“Well, no matter. My offer stands. What’ll you take? Cash! Five thousand.”
“Wal, I hate to take you up, Rock. Say I take half of what you got — twenty-five hundred. Preston will have to pay you. An’ Rock, I’ll pack an’ rustle out of hyar pronto.”
“That’s fine. Here’s your money, Jess. I’m askin’ two promises. Keep Preston’s secret, and don’t get drunk before you leave.”
“Reckon thet’s easy. Rock, I’m much obliged to you. I’ve got another chance in life.”
“I hope you’ll be successful,” returned Rock, stepping over to his horse and mounting.
Slagle followed him, and laid a red-haired hand on Rock’s chaps. “Rock, I’d be willin’ to bet all this hyar money, five to one, thet if you save Gage Preston, you’ll hev to kill Ash.”
Spurring Egypt sharply, Rock swore lustily at the vindictive homesteader and galloped away.
Though Rock put the white horse to a finish that concluded a wonderful day’s travel, it was well after dark when they reached the Pass. Lights were burning in all the Preston cabins. At the barn Rock encountered one of the Mexican lads, and turned Egypt over to him. With that he stalked back through the grove. Peering into the kitchen door, he espied Mrs. Preston and Alice and Lucy at their evening chores.
“Howdy, folks! Is it too late for a bite and a cup of coffee? I’ve had nothin’ since yesterday, Starved isn’t the word!”
“Cowboy, it’s never too late in this chuck-house,” returned Mrs. Preston. “Come in and sit down.”
Heavy boot thuds out on the porch attested to the approach of men.
“Who come in, Ma?” queried Preston outside.
“A poor starved cowpuncher,” replied his wife.
“Dad, it’s only Mr. Rock,” added Alice quickly.
Outside someone violently slapped what sounded like a pair of gloves on the table.
“Pa, didn’t I tell ye?” growled Ash Preston’s unmistakable voice. “Thet hombre can’t keep away from Thiry!”
Footfalls, sharp and quick, rang off the porch to thud on the ground. Then Preston’s dragging steps approached. The doorway framed his burly form.
“Howdy, boss!” greeted Rock.
“Back so soon? Reckoned you’d stay out your leave,” replied the rancher.
“I rustled back,” said Rock meaningly.
“Bad news?”
“Reckon all I got is good.”
“Ahuh. Wal, come in, soon as you want to,” concluded Preston.
Soon afterwards Rock strode out to seek Preston.
“Rock, you didn’t break any legs gettin’ hyar with thet good news,” growled Preston as Rock entered.
“Reckon you won’t be r’arin’ for me to hurry, after I start,” replied Rock closing the door and facing the rancher. “Preston, not a whisper of what I say must be heard by anyone but you.”
“Come close then, an’ talk low.” Whereupon Rock drew a chair up to Preston’s, and eyeing him squarely, whispered, “Preston, the jig’s up!”
“What you mean?” hoarsely rejoined the rancher.
“You’re found out. Your butcherin’ stolen cattle. Slagle found Half Moon hides under that culvert above his place. He told John Dabb. Dabb told Tom Lincoln. Then me.”
“My Gawd!” Preston covered his face with nerveless hands.
Rock’s first thrill came with the rancher’s reception of this news. It augured well. But he let the revelation sink deep. He waited. At length Preston lifted his haggard countenance, “How can Slagle prove thet — on me?”
“He can’t. The hides ‘ve been moved.”
“Ahuh. Wal, then, I’ll deny everythin’ and fight them.”
“Gage, I can prove you guilty,” whispered Rock.
“You can? How?”
“Ash’s tracks. I trailed them. I measured them. I got his boot track here in the corral. I saw that same track leadin’ down to the culvert and under it. I compared them, ripped open one of those burlap sacks. The Half Moon brand!”
The big hands opened wide. “Rock, you wouldn’t ruin me?”
“No.”
“An’ you shore couldn’t break Thiry’s heart?”
“Do you need to ask?”
“Does anyone else have the proofs on me — like you?”
“No, not yet. But I’m not the only trailer on this range. Somebody will trail your sons, as I did Ash. If you don’t stop them?”
“Does anybody else suspect — beside the four you named?”
“Hesbitt’s outfits suspect. But they don’t know. Reckon sooner or later they’ll hit on somethin’. Old sign. It might not convict, but it’d ruin you just the same. And any fresh sign — Preston, you’ll all go to jail!”
“Rock, are you comin’ in with me — an’ Ash — an’ Thiry?” asked Preston.
“I’m in with you and Thiry now, not Ash. But clean and honest. Preston, I’ve laid my cards before Dabb and Lincoln. They know me. I couldn’t be crooked now — not to save your life and Thiry’s happiness.”
“Ahuh! What’s the deal?”
“Listen,” whispered Rock bursting with his message. “I’ve shut Slagle’s mouth. I’ve bought his silence. He’s leavin’ the range.”
“Lord Almighty! How’d you do it. What’d you give him?”
“Twenty-five hundred dollars.”
Preston whistled low. “Of all the fellars I ever seen, you — Rock, I’m goin’ to square thet with you.”
“Sure you are. You’re goin to square it all. Listen. Come up town with me. Dabb will call a meetin’ of the Cattle Association council. That means him, Lincoln, and Hesbitt. To keep this out of court you will agree to pay Hesbitt for his Half Moon stock. Dabb and Lincoln have promised me they’ll handle Hesbitt. It will all be done in secret. Then you and your sons who were in this deal must leave the country. We all believe Ash roped you into this butcherin’ stolen cattle.”
“He shore did. He was killin’ stolen steers long before I ever knew. Then it was too late to stop him. An’ I drifted in myself. All so easy! An’ now — Rock, I’d almost as lief croak as face thet council. They might let me off, but they’d tell. It’d leak out.”
“Preston, you’re not thinkin’ clear. If you don’t take this chance, for the sake of your womenfolk, you’ll ruin them. And you’ll be as bad as Ash. By heaven, Preston, I can’t let you ruin Thiry!”
“Wal, I’ll think your idee over good and hard, Rock. My not acceptin’ it pronto doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate your wonderful offer an’ all thet prompts you. I shore do. It may be the best way to save them. But the wife — Thiry, Allie, Lucy — they’d have to know, an’ I’d almost shore rather die in my boots than tell them.”
“Man, we don’t have to tell. No one but Thiry will ever know.”
“All right I’ll think it over.”
Meanwhile, I’ll stop Ash if I have to hawg-tie him. An’ you better take the boys an’ go off in the woods somewhere. But no goin’ in to town. Take then huntin’. It’s most turkey season. An’ let me know where you go.”
Well as Trueman Rock knew that country, it was his fortune to be taken by the Preston boys to high hunting-grounds which he had never visited.
It was up in the mountains back of the Pass, about a day’s climb on horseback, 8,000 feet above the low country. Up there early fall had set in and the foliage was one gorgeous array of colour. The camp lay in a mountain meadow, at the edge of a magnificent grove of quaking aspens. Behind on a gentler slope stood scattered silver spruces and yellow pines, growing larger as they climbed, until on the ridge above they massed in the deep timber line, which like a green-black belt circled the mountain under the grey, grisly, weathered and splintered peaks.
The days passed until Rock had no idea how long he had been absent from the Pass. Nearly a fortnight, he guessed. Then came Indian summer, that enchanting brief period of smoky, warm, still days, and floating amber and purple haze in the air.
Al Preston left to go down home for supplies. This threw Rock into a fever of uncertainty. What news would he fetch back? What message from Preston? Would Thiry write? The day was long, the night interminable, the second day unbearable. Rock wandered in the open forest across from camp, wanting always to be in sight of the trail that came up from below.
Then a grey-laden pack-horse emerged from the green wall across the meadow. Next came a dark horse holding a slight rider that could not be Al Preston. Who could it be? Another pack-horse cleft the dark green gap, where the trail emerged. And after it Al on his big bay. The foremost rider waved to the boys in camp. How they yelled! Rock watched with eyes starting. What was there strangely familiar about that rider? Yet he knew he had never seen him before. Rock never forgot a mounted rider. Suddenly he leaped up madly: Thiry!
He ran. He leaped the brook. He made the camp in bounds.
“Howdy, Trueman!” Her smile was strained, and she scarcely met his eager gaze. He had never seen her in rider garb. Could that make such difference? She wore a tan blouse, with blue scarf, fringed gauntlets, overalls, and high boots. She looked like a boy, until she dismounted. Rock had a wild desire to snatch her in his arms.
“Boys, throw my pack and unroll, my bed,” she said. And while the boys obeyed with alacrity she led the stunned, Rock away from camp into the forest.
“Glad to see me?” she asked.
“Glad!” he echoed. “Thiry! I’m loco.”
She still held his hand, that she had taken openly before her brothers. She halted beside a great fallen spruce with rugged seamed bark. “Lift me up,” she said. And when he had complied she held him with strange hands, and looked in to his eyes as she had never before.
“Kiss me,” this unknown Thiry said not shyly, nor yet boldly, but somehow unnaturally for her. When Rock obeyed, restraining himself in his bewilderment, she put her arms around him and her face against his neck.
“Bad news, Trueman dear,” she said. “Ash made a killing of Half Moon steers and shipped the beef from Wagontongue.”
Rock’s frame jerked with the hot gush of blood through his veins, but he did not voice his anger and dismay.
“Dad wants you to come in with us — share our fortunes; our troubles — our sins — help us fight these enemy outfits. If we—”
“We?” he interrupted.
“Yes, we. Ash and Dad and I — and my brothers — and you.”
“I! And what do I get for spillin’ blood for thieves? Ah, that is Preston’s game. He wants me to kill — to spread terror among those Wyomin’ outfits. And my reward will be—”
