Collected Works of Zane Grey, page 1186
“I reckon I was, tolerable. But when she dared me to come over an’ see her in Leavitt’s arms — an’ I took that dare — Wal, it all died, pronto.”
“Oh, Kal, she wouldn’t — she couldn’t do such a thing.”
“The hell she wouldn’t,” flashed Kalispel, stung by the memory. “She did do it. I saw Leavitt kiss her.”
“Oh, she must have been driven.”
“Wal, I don’t care a whoop whether she was or not,” de-dared Kalispel, bitterly. “It hurt. An’ it showed me a lot. You’ll oblige me, Ruth, by not alludin’ to that again.”
“Forgive me. I never will.... But, Kal, do you think Dick meant for you to marry me?”
“Shore he did. How else could a man take care of you?”
“Very well, then,” she replied, with a dangerous softness. “I won’t marry you.”
“Why not?”
“I won’t, that’s all,” she rejoined, and averted her agitated face.
“Ah-huh. Wal, shore I’m no match for Sydney Blair or for you, either. — No honest, fine, young fellow like Dick!”
“Kal Emerson!” she flashed, and turned with an angry blaze of eyes.
“Shore. Kal Emerson! Bad hombre! Tough cowboy! Rustler! Gun-slinger! All-around desperado who no woman atall would be wife to!” ejaculated Kalispel, in sincere scorn of himself. This emotion, no doubt, was a partial regurgitation to the sickening aftermath of a fatal gun-fight.
“Don’t lie that way about yourself,” she retorted. “You’re Western and you’re great, Kal Emerson. I won’t have you demean yourself to me.”
“Never mind my promise to Dick. I’d have asked you to marry me, anyhow.”
“Oh, Kal! — Don’t! — God knows it’s hard to refuse—”
“Wal, why won’t you?”
“Because I love you,” she cried, passionately.
“Ruth! — You mean same as you did Dick?”
“No. I didn’t love him.”
“But, child, how come you to love me?... Aw, it’s just gratitude, Rûth. An’ you’re awful upset.”
“Don’t ask any woman, good or bad, how she came to love. It can’t be explained. It happens.”
“Wal, then, if — if you do — why that’s all the more reason for you to be my wife.”
“It is not.”
“Ruth, we’re off the trail,” he said, soberly. “When I thought of marryin’ you it wasn’t just to get a wife — a woman. I had only a wonderful feelin’ for you — the kid who’s had such a rotten deal from life. An’ I meant to take care of you always as I would of my own sister. But when you say you love me, why that makes me think and remember. I always wanted a real home, a wife to keep me straight, an’ kids —— —”
“Hush!” she sobbed, and put her hand to his lips. “I love you, Kal.... I love you as I never loved anyone, even my mother. I will live with you, be faithful till my dying breath, work my fingers to the bone for you, but I will not marry you!”
He took her hand in his and kissed it. For a while, neither spoke.
“I’m distressin’ you, Ruth,” he said, finally. “But, one more word. If you won’t marry me you can’t be my real wife. Savvy, dear?”
“Yes, I savvy,” she whispered, sagging against him.
“An’ I’ll keep my promise to Dick just the same,” he went on, eagerly. “An’ I reckon you’ll be my salvation, just the same.... Forget it now, Ruth.... There’s so much to think of. To plan for! An’ I’ve much to do before we leave here.”
“Leavitt!” she cried lifting eyes he could not gaze into. “Yes. I meant to kill him. I ought to.”
“Kal, it’s not for me to — to stop you. Not to serve him, of all men!... Only — today!... Can I stand that again?”
“Wal, don’t worry, maybe Masters will take care of him.” Jake opened the door a half-inch. “Hey, Romeo an’ Juliet! Will you have supper served in the drawin’-room or out on the balcony?”
Chapter Fourteen
During the night the long-deferred equinoctial storm broke.
Jake got up to reinforce his end of the improvised shelter. “Hey, Kal, is it wet over where you are?” he called. “Ump-umm,” replied Kalispel, sleepily.
“Wal, it’s wetter’n hell over hyar,” growled Jake. “Thet storm finally busted an’ I’ll bet it’ll be a humdinger. Might as wal wake up an’ get ready to be washed away.”
“What time is it?”
“Wal, it was somewhere’s near mornin’, but I don’t know what it is now... Whew! Blazes an’ brimstone! Kal, I wish we was safe out of this hole.”
“So do I,” replied Kalispel, sitting up. A blue-white blaze filled the valley with weird light and a ripping thunderbolt rent the heavens. And before the booming echoes ceased reverberating, another flash of lightning streaked the inky blackness and a mighty sound as of mountains rolling down deafened Kalispel. Soon the intervals between the illuminating flashes appeared to be mere glimmerings and the thunder mingled continuously. Rain fell in torrents.
Kalispel and Jake huddled close to the cabin wall, and by covering themselves and blankets with a tarpaulin managed to keep dry. Toward dawn the violence of the storm subsided and the rain slackened. Morning broke dreary and gray.
The stream was roaring. Kalispel went over to look at it. Miners all along, as far down as he could see, were trying to rescue rocks, flumes, boxes, tools from the yellow flood. It was bank-full and rising rapidly. Many of the claims would be flooded. Even those above high water could not be worked, for all the holes were filled.
Thunder City would continue to roar, but not with labor. The saloons and halls and dens would reap a harvest.
As always, Kalispel swept an appreciative gaze across to the bare slope. This morning it presented a furrowed front. Thin yellow streams were running down its face, flattening out on the level to triangular areas of mud and silt. It presented an ugly sight. Far up, the peak was obscured in gray cloud. Kalispel calculated that it would be snowing up there; and he conceived the idea that it would be well to get ready to leave the valley as soon as the storm was over. He returned to the cabin. Jake was fanning a refractory camp fire which he had started under the shelter.
“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 new 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 midafternoon, 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 hollow 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!” ejaculated 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 Jack 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 stepmother... 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 motion.
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 halfdemolished 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.”
