Collected Works of Zane Grey, page 1218
“Warm them pronto, while I tie these things on.”
When presently Madge mounted into the saddle she found the stirrups had been shortened to fit her. Without a word Sidway took hold of the reins and led Umpqua down the slope. He took long strides and a slanting zigzag course, down through the cedars. Broad daylight had come and gradually the nipping air and the frost lessened. Madge kept her hands in the folds of the blanket and endured the acute pain of cold feet. Gray shaggy foothills appeared to surround them; the heads of ravines slanted down between these, to widen into narrow valleys; through the trees Madge sometimes caught glimpses of a hazy void. When the sun rose it appeared to be in the wrong direction to her, and if her calculation was correct, Sidway was taking her down across the border into Mexico. He never spoke, never glanced back at her, but strode on, down and ever down, like a man who was lost and did not know nor care where he was going.
Madge’s thoughts did not change materially from those which had had their inception in the dark hours of the night before. She could not save herself, or help herself, and any romance or thrill she might conjure up were welcome. In the sunlight of day, however, her disappointment in Sidway and her disillusion grew more bitter hourly. She felt her strength failing, and a consequent gloom and sadness wore on her antagonistic and unquenchable spirit. The time came when she would not have cared what happened, if she could only rest. The cedar trees gave place to brush, which offered no protection from the sun, now climbing high and growing unendurably hot.
“Lance, I’m — spitting cotton,” said Madge, at last breaking silence. “Must have — a drink.”
“So am I. But hang on. I see green willows below. There’s water.”
When at last Sidway found water it was none too soon for Madge. There was nothing to drink out of and Madge said if she got off the horse she could not climb back. Whereupon the cowboy, regardless of the fact that she had let the hot blanket slip down, lifted her out of the saddle, and after she had slaked her thirst, he put her back. Madge had never known before the sweetness and life in cold pure water. There were many things she had never appreciated.
Sidway led on tirelessly, always down, but it appeared to Madge that the slopes were less precipitous and the zigzags far longer. She grew so weary that she sagged and swayed in the saddle, and so hot she wanted to fall off and perish, and so miserable that she had hardly strength left to hold the remnants of her garment around her. Nevertheless she would have endured more before entreating him to find some shade and let her rest. She hated him now. She could have killed him. To make her love him hopelessly and terribly, to heap the shame of her horrible selfishness upon her head were indeed enough, without adding this endless insupportable ghastly ride. Madge clutched the pommel and her blanket with sore and hot hands, and sat with closed and burning eyes, wearing to collapse. Minutes or hours dragged by until she seemed not to feel any more. Still she was aware when the horse stopped.
“Look, Madge!” rang out Sidway’s voice.
Madge seemed impelled by more than his command. Opening her eyes she saw that they had halted upon a promontory, a level summit of the last foothill. A blue and gray range land not far below, clear and close in the sunlight, appeared to leap up at her. Across its sage-spotted floor moved a long line of cattle, wearily wending their way. Like a black ribbon some miles out stretched a road with speeding automobiles, flashing sunlight from their glass windows. And beyond, over the blue sage loomed a green timbered knoll, from the top of which, half concealed, peeped a white ranch house that Madge knew.
“The cattle herd you see working back belong to your father and Danny Mains,” said Sidway, imperturbably.
“That’s the highway!... there’s — my home!” faltered Madge, fighting a sudden dizziness.
“Thought you’d recognize it,” he drawled, lighting a cigarette. “I’m sure tickled with the way I came straight down, in a swell short cut, from Cochise’s stronghold.”
“Lance!” She could not hear her own voice.
“Okay. What now?” But he never turned to look at her.
“You’re taking — me home?”
“Certainly, you poor fish!”
“You’re not — what I took you for? — Liar — two-faced — cowboy — kidnaper... gangster?”
“No, Miss Stewart. I hate to disillusion you — spoil your pipe dream. It’s just too bad, for you’re such a swell romancer. You concoct such lovely things about me and my motives. But they didn’t pan out, as you see.”
“Oh, my — God! — Then you didn’t kill Uhl — to — to abduct me, but — but to save me?”
“Right. Your comprehension is at least encouraging. You may be a bright girl yet.”
“You don’t want — a ransom?”
“Madge Stewart, I’d starve to death before I’d accept a dollar of your money.”
“Oh — oh — I... What you’ve done — for me, for Dad and Mom!... And I? — Oh, how little — how miserable — you’ve made me! Oh, the shame!...”
Uttering a sharp cry she swayed in the saddle.
“Madge! Hang on!” she felt pierce her fading sense, and then, as she fell into his arms, all went black.
When Madge recovered consciousness she found that Sidway was carrying her in front of him, and traveling at a fast pace across the range. Only vague thoughts accompanied her sensations of faintness and pain, and these faded. Then she went through stages of sleep or semiconsciousness, until at last she recovered sufficiently to make out that it was sunset and that she was almost paralyzed.
“Lance... how far?” she whispered.
“Almost home,” he replied, cheerily. “I’m glad you came to... Brace up now. So you won’t scare hell out of your mother and the girls.... Here, I’ll have to wrap you up again, for you’re sure in a state of nature.”
“Oh — you cowboy!” And she turned in his arm, to sink against his shoulder, reviving anew to life and pain and love, and realizing that there would be nothing worth living for without him. Wide-eyed she lay there, her cheek against his hot dusty vest. They began to climb and entered the pines. A little later Sidway halted the horse in front of the house and yelled: “Hello, inside! It’s Sidway!... And here’s Madge all in, but okay!”
He stepped off with her in his arms, and mounting the porch, encountered a group of wild screaming and questioning boys and girls, and behind them her white-faced mother and the servants.
“Mrs. Stewart, she’s all right,” Sidway assured her. “Let go, girls.” He carried her into the house and to her rooms, finally to lay her down on her bed. “There!” he ejaculated, poignantly, and straightened up as the others flocked in, eager and wide-eyed, all talking at once.
“Mom!” And that was all Madge could say as her mother knelt to envelop her in loving arms. But she gazed with blurred eyes up at the faces of her friends, crowded around the bed. It was a little while before Madge could answer coherently.
“Mother! — Darlings! I’m well — and safe. You’re to thank Sidway for that.... I’m just done up. Oh, what an adventure!... About Rollie? — I don’t know — I don’t know.... Lance, tell them what it’s all about.”
Sidway turned away from the window. “Stevens was all right when we left. I’m sure Stewart with his men will have rescued him by now. They’ll be back tonight, or tomorrow surely.”
“Rescued!” they all cried in unison.
“We were kidnaped,” whispered Madge. “Rollie and I went down to the village. That gangster Uhl! — I knew him. I’d met him in Los Angeles. He’d found out where I lived. He and his gang kidnaped us... And that night Sidway bobbed up — to perform another miracle. He also knew Uhl — and he fooled Uhl — tricked him to leave his car — and ride into the mountains.... Lance was the guide — and I thought — but never mind that. He led us up — to Cochise’s stronghold. Uhl had sent word to Dad to — pay ransom... . Uhl meant to — to... he was vile — and Lance had to kill — him — to save me!...”
Sidway interrupted the chorus of wondering and awed exclamations. “Her voice is gone. Stop making her talk, and fetch her something to drink,” he said, hastily. “Mrs. Stewart, Madge is naturally excited about all this.” He briefly outlined the history of the adventure, ending, “Now, it’s a sure bet that Sloan joined Stewart and they cut loose after us. I think you may expect them back with Stevens by tomorrow.”
“Sidway, how can we ever thank you for this?” exclaimed Madge’s mother, fervently. “What a relief!...”
“Mom, don’t let him leave!” cried Madge, frantically, as Sidway started out. “He’ll ride away... and never — let me thank him.”
“Why, child! — Sidway would not do that.”
“Wouldn’t he? Much you know!... Lance, promise me...”
Then the girls added their entreaties to hers, until Sidway, red of face, assured them he wanted only to go down to his bunkhouse to clean up, and that he would come back.
“You’ll have supper here,” added Mrs. Stewart.
At this juncture Barg elbowed his way to Madge’s bed with a silver flask, and a glass.
“Nothing doing!” cried Madge, her voice still weak. “I’m on the wagon — for good.... Get me some water first — then hot coffee.... And I’m starved.”
But despite the assiduous attention of her friends and mother Madge could not keep awake very long. She slept until late the next day, to find that a relaxation had set in from her strenuous and harrowing experience. She was too weak to get out of bed. Allie, who had slept with her, told Madge she had never before looked so lovely and languid and fascinating.
“That bruise, though — I think you’d better hide it,” added her worshipful friend.
“Not on your life!” retorted Madge. “That’s where Bee Uhl socked me.... It might serve to soften the heart of a certain callous and soulless person.”
“Majesty!... Is it that bad?”
“Oh, Lord! — Allie, it’s terrible. A million times worse than before — before...”
“Before what?” whispered Allie, intensely excited.
“Before he slapped me the night of my party. Oh! wait till you get an earful of that.... Before he saved my life.... Before I took him for a gangster and a crook — and God only knows what else I called him!... Allie darling, I’m terribly afraid it’s hopeless.”
“Moron! Of course it will be, if you persist in this inferiority complex. But if you get to HIM...”
The other girls trooped in, clad in colorful pajamas and slacks, and made much of Madge. The boys hung at the door and out in the patio, and then her mother entered. Madge, for once in her life, was coddled and nursed, and paid enough compliments to last a month. But the one person Madge wanted most to see did not present himself. She was too proud, too hurt to ask for him. Why could he not be kind enough to come to see how she fared after the long ride? No doubt Sidway was anxious for the return of Stewart and the others. Madge hardly expected them so soon, and not at all without Rollie Stevens. Late in the afternoon, however, when gold shafts from the setting sun filtered through the foliage at her window, Madge was greatly excited to learn that Rollie had returned safely.
“Drag him in — no matter how he looks,” cried Madge, who knew Rollie’s weakness.
“He’s a sight,” replied Nate. “But we’ll get him.”
Presently there was a merry hubbub outside. Then Rollie came in, supported between Nate and Snake Elwell. Allie, who sat beside Madge on the bed, uttered a shriek. Madge was too overcome for mirth. The collegian’s appearance presented grim evidence of the hardship and fright he had suffered.
“Oh, Rollie! — I’m so — so glad!...” burst out Madge.
“I’m glad myself, especially to see you home safe.... That blighter turned out a hero instead of what you and I took him for?”
“Yes, Rollie.”
“He’s one swell fellow — I’ll tell you,” gulped Stevens, gallantly.
“But, Dad!”
“Your father is all right, Majesty. He’s coming up, with Sidway. The boys drove me.... Excuse me now, Majesty. I’m a mess.”
Then, as Rollie left, Dawson Metcalf called in at the door. “Steady, Madge! Hold everything! Here come your dad and the hero!”
The clinking of spurs on the stone patio path sent strange little shivers all over Madge. She squeezed Allie’s hand and she felt her heart weakly swell in her throat. Then her father entered her room, followed by someone Madge saw only vaguely. Sight of her father stalking in, dusty in his rider’s garb, dark of visage, somehow recalled Madge’s earliest memories. What a piercing gaze he bent upon her! Never had she met his eyes like that. What thought had been in his mind? After that strange look, his eyes and face softened, and he held her shaking hands and kissed her.
“Well, lass, I’m happy to see you safe at home,” he said, with deep feeling.
“Oh — Dad!” And Madge sat up to cling to him and hide her face. There was more than the aftermath of her adventure in her instinctive action. Had she nearly lost him?
Stewart laid her back upon the pillow. “You’re pretty white, Madge. And that’s a nasty bruise on your temple. How’d you get that?”
“Honey Bee Uhl paid his respects — that way.” Her eyes fastened upon Sidway, who stood at the foot of her bed, looking with grave eyes down upon her. It was not only his clean shave and change of garb that made him look so different. Madge thought she had never seen him so handsome, so fine, so disturbing to her heart and mind. She had wit left to realize that she should control her spoken thought, but so great an emotion that she did not care what she said. Her remorse seemed insupportable.
“Lance,” she said, beseechingly, “come here — beside Allie — and let me thank you.”
“What for?” he asked, smiling.
“Well, saving me from Uhl — killing him, for one thing.”
“Madge, you and I were mistaken. I didn’t kill him.”
“No!”
“Daughter, though you both thought so, Sid isn’t responsible for that,” interposed her father. “Or I either. It was Ren Starr. That cowboy seemed unusually wild, even for him. Effect of that punch you served the other night!... Well, Ren shot Flemm when he held them up. That gangster turned on us with his machine gun spitting fire. Then Uhl came out of the cabin, all bloody. Sid’s bullet had grooved his scalp. I had some words with Uhl. He was a queer duck, quite beyond me. While Nels held a gun on him, Ren and the other boys hanged the third gangster. And they forced your college boy friend to help. What do you think of that?”
“Heavens! — Rollie help hang a man — even a gangster who had kidnaped me?”
“It’s a fact. He pulled on the lasso like a regular cowboy.”
It would have been extremely embarrassing then for Rollie, had he been present, to hear the outburst.
“We intended to hang Uhl, of course,” resumed her father, presently. “But Ren wouldn’t hear of it. He forced Uhl to fight — gave him his gun and an even break. Killed him, Madge!... Well, I’ve told the sheriff all about it, and that lets us out.... Madeline,” said Stewart, addressing his wife, who had come in to stand with Sidway, “it’s a good thing this sheriff is not like Pat Hawe, my enemy sheriff of our early years here.... And to conclude, we will have our cattle back in another day. All’s well that ends well. Let’s forget it.”
“But, Dad,” said Madge, her voice soft and low, “it — hasn’t ended well, yet.”
“How come? Sure it has.”
“I haven’t thanked Lance,” rejoined Madge, turning the full battery of her eyes upon Sidway, knowing she did so, but deeply sure of her sincerity.
“Well, do so, then,” declared Stewart, with a laugh, as he arose.
“I don’t need — want to be thanked,” said Sidway, with inscrutable eyes upon her.
“Darling! — I...”
“There! Let that do,” interrupted Sidway, holding up an appealing hand. “It’s an inconsequential word for you, Madge. You call your friends ‘darling,’ both boys and girls. You call Nels and Ren darling, and your parents, even your horses. So, evidently it’s just a convenient word that places the lucky one within the charmed circle of your intimates. I accept that gratefully as your thanks for my little service. And it’s enough.”
Madge stared up at him while the others laughed and made mirth out of it. What a speech for Lance Sidway! He was keener, wittier than she had ever realized. Had he the faintest conception of her remorse? Could not the cool smiling enigma see how she regarded him? There came a culminating rush to Madge’s uncontrollable emotion.
“Beloved!” flashed Madge, with a passionate defiant eloquence. “Is that less impersonal?” she added trying to make her tone flippant although she felt her face burn red.
Sidway appeared very far from being prostrated by that exquisite epithet. Turning to her father he spread wide his hands: “Gene, I told you she is flighty. Out of her head! I noticed it yesterday toward the last of the ride. No girl ever pulled a gamer stunt. That night ride up on the mountain, then half another night down, then all day in the hot sun — why, it was a grand performance. Not to say fighting off that thug in between! It’s no wonder she’s cracked under the strain.... I think we all ought to get out of here. She needs rest, nursing, quiet.”
“Right you are, Sid. Come, beat it, all of us, except one or two of you girls to care for her.”
They filed out, except Allie and Maramee, who piled back upon the bed. Someone shut the door.
“Oh hell!” cried Madge, wildly. “Was there ever such a man?... So I’ve cracked!”
“Majesty,” murmured the incorrigibly romantic Maramee. “It’s the most delicious love story there ever was in all the world.”
* * * * *
Madge made the following day a quiet and recuperative and thoughtful one. Her guests were due to leave next day and she felt that she would be both sorry and relieved to see them go. The truck loaded with baggage departed early the following morning. And at one o’clock three cars took aboard a hysterical bevy of girls and a merry wisecracking complement of boys. Farewells were prolonged. And at last, when it seemed all had been said, Bu Allen hailed the somber Sidway in a high-pitched penetrating voice.
