Collected Works of Zane Grey, page 1182
He ran across the bench to the slope. He glided along that to the fence which inclosed Leavitt’s claim. There he rested, regaining his breath, listening, peering for the guard. There was no sound, no moving object. He slipped among the boulders and stealthily made his way to the point almost opposite the cabin. A light shone from Leavitt’s window. The door was closed. Footfalls attracted his attention. They were coming. Soon a dark form appeared. It grew blacker, took the shape of a man. He passed by close to the fence. When he was out of sight, Kalispel crossed the open space and hid behind the corner of the fence. He drew his gun and knew his course of action. If he bungled, he would have to kill the guard; this he did not want to do unless compelled.
Presently the guard returned. He passed the corner scarcely a yard away. Kalispel took one quick step and struck the man a hard blow on the head with the butt of his heavy gun. The fellow dropped like a log, his rifle clattering to the ground. Kalispel knelt and rolled him over on his back, intending to bind his mouth and hands. But he had no scarf, and Kaispel did not want to leave a clue by using his own. Rising, he ran to the porch, leaped up to try the door. Barred! Listening a moment more, he sheathed his gun and hurried round to the window. It took but a moment to force it and climb into the cabin.
He turned up the lamp and cast a swift, keen gaze round the room, scrutinizing the lowest log of the wall. In several places that log was hidden by bed, bench, chest, table. Kalispel dragged away the bed and felt with scrupulous care, searching for a joint. He did this all around that side and then the other. Each log ran the whole length of the wall. Behind Leavitt’s table and under a canvas curtain where he hung his clothes Kalispel found what he was seeking.
His sharp fingernails halted at a smooth, scarcely perceptible joint. About four feet to the left of it he found another. With powerful hands he pressed the section of log, which slid out upon the floor, disclosing a dark hollow in the base log beneath.
Then as Kalispel bent over, the first object with which his eager hand came in contact was a large, long, leather wallet. It felt full of money. Kalispel could have yelled his glee. Blair’s wallet!
The wallet was too large for Kalispel’s pocket. It took but a moment for him to snatch a blanket from the bed. This he spread by the aperture in the log, and dropped the wallet upon it. Then he lifted out bag after bag of gold of various sizes — some canvas, but mostly buckskin. He did not desist until he had a pile of them that would have filled a bushel basket. Where, he thought with grim irony, had Leavitt got all the gold? Next he twisted the ends of the blanket and carried it to the window. He peered out. All quiet! It took all his strength to lower the heavy load down to the ground. Then he leaped out.
When he swung that improvised pack over his shoulder he calculated there was in excess of a hundred pounds of gold in it. He wanted to make the welkin ring with his triumph. But never had he been more vigilant. He stepped on the grass and on stones, out to the hard trail. The guard lay where he had fallen. Kalispel passed him and gained the boulders. Sheering to the left, he soon reached the base of the slope.
Only then did he relax, to exult and revel. He had done it. He had recovered Blair’s money and he had taken what rightfully belonged to Sam Emerson.
“Gosh!” whispered Kalispel, halting to rest his burden on a convenient boulder. “Even if we’d never made this strike, I’d turned robber once, just to get even with this two-bit thief.”
Of all the considerable feats Kalispel had ever achieved, this one gave him the most exultation. He was safe. He could never be apprehended. And nothing was any surer than that he could hide and keep this gold, which, added to what he had hidden, would make a fortune. He reverted to the youth that had dreamed of romance, adventure, daring feats, to the day he ran away from home to seek the pot of gold at the foot of the rainbow. He had unearthed the pot, but the bright face of the rainbow had faded.
He toiled on in short stages, careful each time to listen, to peer ahead, to make certain of his direction and safety. At last he reached his cabin, hot and wet, with bursting veins and throbbing heart, exhausted from over-excitement and exertion, but full of a satisfaction that made up for the irrevocable loss of Sydney Blair.
When he got ready he would return her father’s money to him, with a few caustic words to Sydney anent where he had found it. And possibly some of the gold the miners had lost could be identified and returned to them. Then he had Jake to think of and plan for, to establish in life, and also Nugget and Sloan, and lastly himself. Somehow thought of the ranch, certain to be his if he lived, did not rouse the old joy.
Kalispel, all the while with whirling thoughts, concealed his treasure, assured that his hiding-place could not be discovered without long and painstaking search.
The hour was late and he took advantage of this to burn the blanket.
“I reckon my high-minded Sydney would figure me out a thief,” he soliloquized. “My heaven! If she cared for that hombre, what a jar she’ll get!
“But,” he puzzled again, “why did she persuade him to tell where the gold was hidden, when she knew I was there?”
He went to bed without disturbing Jake, who slept like a log, and he lay there wide-eyed until the gray dawn.
That day Kalispel remained in camp, restless and watchful, working at small tasks, expecting any moment a posse of miners with Leavitt at their head. His loaded Winchester leaned against the door of the cabin, and he had an extra gun in his belt. He felt capable of holding off even a determined band of men.
But afternoon came without any untoward event. Then when he espied Leavitt on Sydney’s porch, apparently nO more excited than usual, he concluded that the loss of the gold had not been discovered. Kalispel pondered over this amazing aspect of the situation. No doubt that guard knew how Charlie March had come to his untimely end. He might have recovered consciousness without it becoming known that he had been assaulted, and then in the interest of self-preservation he had chosen to keep his mouth shut. Kalispel reflected that he had left Leavitt’s room as he had found it, except for the purloining of the blanket. This loss, too, might not have been noticed.
Leavitt made a lengthy call upon the young woman he was wooing, most certainly too long for a man who had lost a fortune. In this Kalispel had positive proof that Leavitt did not yet know of his great loss.
“Dog-gone!” ejaculated Kalispel, rubbing his hands in glee. “My luck has changed. I’ll play it to the limit.”
About midafternoon Kalispel, watching, saw Rand Leavitt rise to make his departure. Either he wanted Sydney to accompany him downtown or she wanted him to stay there. In any event, they idled some moments at the head of the steps, in plain view of Kalispel — which was assuredly known to both — and at length Leavitt leisurely left. Kalispel watched him take the trail to town instead of the one across the bench toward his cabin.
Jake had keener observation than Kalispel had credited him with.
“Brother, you’re on edge today, like a stiff wire in a cold wind,” remarked Jake. “When are you goin’ to kill him?”
“Him! — Say, Jake, are you dotty? What’s eatin’ you?”
“Nothin’. I been watchin’ you watchin’ Leavitt down there sparkin’ yore girl. An’ I wouldn’t give two bits for his life.”
“Hell! Am I that easy?... Wal, Jake, jealousy is pretty tough, an’ what’s more it’s new to me.”
“Has Leavitt added outrage to theft?” queried Jake, his big eyes flaring.
“He shore helped queer me with Sydney, but I reckon I was most to blame. I was responsible for bringin’ the Blairs here. It has been ruin for them. Blair has gone to the bad. Sydney hates drink. An’ altogether she’s had too much of wild West an’ Kalispel Emerson mixed.”
“Not a sweet drink, I’ll admit,” growled Jake. “But, hell, hasn’t she got any guts? If she is as tenderfooty as she looks she wouldn’t do for you. Reckon it’s just as well. When you go to ranchin’ you’ll want a husky girl who can cook, sweep, sew, milk, an’ look after a flock of kids, an’—”
“Hey!” interrupted Kalispel, red in the face. “Do you take me for a Mormon?”
“Are you still keen about the ranch?”
“Keen? I’m worse than ever. If I didn’t have a couple of scores to keep here I’d leave pronto.”
“But, Kal, you can’t buy that Salmon River ranch on credit.”
“Wal, I’ve got enough saved up for a payment. Forgot to tell you.”
“Thet’s different,” rejoined Jake, brightening. “An’ I’m offerin’ myself as cowboy, milkman, farmer, or any other help you’ll need.... Just for a home, Kal. I’m sick of this gold fever. Sam is dead. I feel it. An’ I don’t want any more prospectin’ without him.”
“Same here, Jake,” replied Kalispel, feelingly. “I’m takin’ you up, Jake. But I won’t give you a job an’ wages. You’ll be my partner.... Dog-gone, but that cheers me! It’s just fine of you, Jake, an’ we’ll shore —— —”
“Who’s thet goin’ up on Blair’s steps?” interrupted Jake. Kalispel wheeled as on a point. A slight-statured boy in blue jeans had just mounted to Blair’s porch. But when the sun, that had peeped out late, caught a glint of golden hair, Kalispel realized with a start that the boy was not a boy.
“Nugget! — Wal, I’ll be damned! She swore she’d do it,” ejaculated Kalispel.
“Do it? What? An’ who’s Nugget?”
“She’s Dick Sloan’s girl, an’ she’s callin’ on Sydney Blair. Struck me funny, that’s all.”
“Lots of funny things happenin’.... Kal, do you know thet they’re hintin’ you could tell a lot about these hold-ups?”
“Could I? — My Gawd! man, believe me I could — an’ I will when I’m ready,” cried Kalispel, so fiercely that Jake stared aghast, and then resumed his camp tasks.
Kalispel riveted his gaze upon the Blair home. He made out Nugget standing outside the open door for some minutes before she was admitted. If she had decided to acquaint Sydney Blair with some revealing facts, it would require nothing less than force to prevent her. Kalispel grimly recognized that Sydney Blair was in for some bad moments. Nugget could convince a wooden image of Leavitt’s guilt, if she chose to. Probably she was mostly concerned with proving Kalispel’s innocence and honesty; nevertheless, in the process of explaining this she would hardly spare Leavitt.
Nugget did not come out. The minutes dragged. She was making a lengthy call. Somehow Kalispel’s sympathy was with Nugget, and, strangely, for the balance of the endless hour that the girl stayed there, Kalispel’s thought was of her, not Sydney.
Finally she came out, to trip down the steps, to run gracefully away, her hair shining in the sunlight. She did not take to the trail, but sheered off to disappear among the tents along the stream.
Scarcely had she gone out of sight when Sydney appeared on her porch, hesitatingly advanced to the rail, and clung to it as if for support. For a moment she appeared bowed and shaken. Then she raised her head to gaze toward Kalispel’s cabin.
She saw him sitting on his bench before the door. She waved her scarf, dropping it a moment, then waved again. Next she beckoned for Kalispel to come, and her action was urgent, appealing. The imploring gesture that followed was almost a holding out of her arms.
“Ump-umm, Lady! Not me,” Kalispel was muttering, feeling his heart in a cold vise. “Not after last night! — You can walk on me — an’ spit on me — an’ insult me scandalous, but, by Gawd! when you gave that hombre what I yearned for an’ never had — I was through!”
Sydney edged along the rail. Plainly she was gathering courage or strength to come to him. When she got as far as the porch post she clung to that and watched him, her posture and demeanor most expressive of trouble and weakness. At length she gave up and went into the cabin.
Kalispel seemed released from the vise. He gazed around in inexpressible relief. The sun had set, yet fan-shaped rays shot up toward the zenith and down into the valley. The broken clouds of purple and gold appeared edged with fire. And for a moment longer a marvelous color bathed the fringed peaks. Then it faded, and that fading of the exquisite glow appeared to resemble what had happened in Kalispel’s heart.
That Sydney should wave to him, beckon for him, almost hold out her arms! That was as incredible as his strange callousness to her entreaty. Too late! He understood that. Not that she had failed him so often, but that she had lightly given what he had regarded sacred! He would have killed men and moved mountains for her kisses.
Twilight fell and dusk mantled the valley floor. Jake called him to supper. Kalispel went in, shaking himself as if to throw off fetters. He ate without his usual gusto. Jake talked of the ranching plan, growing enthusiastic, but Kalispel scarcely heard. Then came a timid knock on the cabin door. “Somebody knockin’,” whispered Jake.
Kalispel stared at the door. Another knock, fainter, brought him to his feet on fire within and cold without. Slowly he swung open the door. The broad flare of lamplight shone upon Sydney Blair. Kalispel grasped the manifestations of her passionate trouble before a sense of her beauty waved over him.
“Come in,” he said, and as she entered he indicated Jake, who stood staring as if at an apparition. “My brother Jake — Miss Blair.”
“Glad to meet you, miss,” replied Jake.
Sydney bowed. Then her wide dark eyes traveled back to Kalispel. “I must see you alone.”
“Jake, will you leave us?” said Kalispel, tensely, and it was as if he girded up his loins for battle. Jake went out. Kalispel turned up the lamp to increase the light. “Sydney, you look shaky. Please sit down.”
She made no move to take the chair he offered.
“Why did you not come?”
“Do you need to ask that?” he countered.
“You saw me wave and beckon and — hold out my hands to you, like a drowning woman?”
“Yes, I saw you. An’ I reckoned I’d spare you some pain — an’ myself hell, if I didn’t go.”
“Then you were there last night!” she affirmed, tragically, and sinking on the couch she covered her face with her hands. “I couldn’t tell. Oh, I was mad!”
“Shore you were mad,” he agreed. “Yes, I was there... an’ when he kissed you somethin’ in me cracked. I sneaked away then.”
“That — was nothing,” she whispered, revealing her shamed face. “He pulled me back to the hammock — made violent love to me. I forgot you. I — I thought I was in love with him.... And I promised — to — marry him.”
Kalispel’s Laugh was not harsh, but she flinched at it. “Ah-huh. An’ after Nugget got through with you, Mr. Leavitt didn’t rate such a good bargain, eh?”
Humbly she shook her head.
“An’ what you thought last night you don’t think now?”
“I loathe him!”
“Wal, Sydney, that gives me back a little of my respect for you. I reckon you got off easy. A few words of love, a hug or two, an’ some kisses — they probably go terrible against the grain for so proud a girl as you. But there’s no harm done. An’ if you despise him — why, that ends it.”
“Ends it, yes. But not my shame.”
“That will wear away, Sydney. I reckon you felt the same when I mauled an’ kissed you so scandalous.”
“No. I was furious, but not ashamed.”
“Wal, nothin’ much can be done about it. I remember when I was a kid an’ learned cuss words my mother used to wash my mouth with lye soap. You might try that. I have a piece here somewhere.”
“Don’t jest!” she importuned.
“All right,” he retorted, harshly. “An’ now you want me to kill Leavitt?”
“Oh no, Kalispel, no!” she cried. “I don’t care what he has done — what he is. But it’d be horrible to kill him. An’ you cannot forever escape yourself!”
“Humph! You’d care a hell of a lot, wouldn’t you?” he exclaimed, unable to resist that gibe.
“Yes, I would care,” she replied, steadily, with unfathomable eyes on his.
“Wal, that doesn’t matter atall. Ever since I first saw Leavitt an’ read in his eyes that he’d done away with my brother, I’ve intended to kill him. An’ I’m goin’ to do it!”
“‘Vengeance is mine,’ saith the Lord. ‘I will repay,’” she quoted, solemnly.
“Beautiful words, Sydney. But they don’t go out here.... What did Nugget tell you?”
With a little cry of distress, Sydney again covered her face.
“Never mind, if it hurts,” he added, relenting. “I reckon I can guess.”
“I will tell you,” she cried, poignantly, “if it kills me.” When Kalispel did not reply, she went on:
“She came. She stood in the door. She said, ‘I want to tell you something.’ — And I asked how she dared address me. ‘I’m sorry you’re like that,’ she said. ‘I’m wondering where Kalispel will get off.’ I was amazed at her. She stood there white and cool, with the sweetest face, the bluest eyes — the very prettiest girl I ever saw. Then she came in and shut the door.
“‘You’ve given Kal Emerson a rotten deal,’ she went on. ‘And I’m here to call you for it.... He was a wild cowboy, a bad hombre, as they say in the South. One way and another he has been driven to defend his name, his life, or some one who needed a friend, until he became notorious. He’s what the West calls a gunman, a killer. But all the same he’s a better, finer, truer man because of that. The West has to have such men. Don’t I know? Good God! How many drunks, burns, thieves, adventurers, gamblers — how many lowdown men do you guess I’ve seen shot in the street or dragged out of dance-halls? — Yes, and I’ve seen good boys like Kalispel go down — worse luck....You are to get it into your head, Miss Blair, that this Kal Emerson is a better man than your father, a better boy than your brother, if you have one. He was so clean an’ straight — r-so true to you — that he could dance with me, be my friend, with never a word that you could not have been glad to hear. I loved him!... He brought a boy to see me, Dick Sloan, and that boy, too, was clean and fine. He loved me. I treated him badly. I did all I could to make him despise me. I couldn’t.... Then Kal came for me — dragged me out of Borden’s hall — scared me stiff because I thought he meant to beat me — and I can’t stand that.... Dick wanted to marry me and Kal made me promise.... I’m living in Dick’s tent now. And I might be his sister! We will be married as soon as it’s possible. I’m free. I’d be — happy if — I could forget.’”
