Collected Works of Zane Grey, page 871
About the middle of the forenoon she was drawn to her favourite place of outlook, which she seldom frequented until afternoon, and straightway espied a horseman riding up the slope from the west side of the lake. Cowboys never took that course. There was no trail. Ina wondered, grew curious and interested. He was avoiding the ranch, that looked certain. She could not remember ever having seen either rider or horse before.
The horseman surmounted the slope, at a point some distance beyond Ina’s position, and then rode directly toward her. There was not the slightest doubt of his having observed her, as she had come out on the edge of the bench in plain sight, and now stood there motionless.
Rapidly he loped his horse to her, halted, and slipped out of the saddle with singular quick grace. His spurs jingled. Ina thought him the most striking rider she had ever seen. Tall, slim, lithe, broad of shoulder, dark as an Indian, with black piercing eyes, he could be none other than Ben’s friend. Ina recognised him from Hettie’s description. It seemed she would have known him without ever having seen him or heard him described.
“Mawnin’, Ina Blaine,” he drawled, in the cool, easy tone of a Southerner. He removed his sombrero, revealing long raven-black hair, and made her a gallant bow. “Shore I’m lucky to meet you heah.”
“Nevada!” exclaimed Ina. “You’re Ben Ide’s friend. I know you.”
“Reckon we both called the turn, without ever havin’ seen each other. Nothin’ could be no more natural. Ben’s pard an’ Ben’s girl.”
“Oh, I’m glad to meet you,” returned Ina, blushing as she extended her hand.
“Shore I’m glad to meet you, Ina,” he said, removing his glove to shake hands with her.
“You came to see me?” she queried.
“Yes.”
“Did you meet my little brother, Marvie? He left for Forlorn River this morning.”
“No. But I didn’t come by the trail.”
“Did — did Ben send you?” she went on, rather hurriedly.
“I should smile not. Why, lady, Ben would murder me if he knew what I was aboot this heah day. He shore would.”
“Is — is everything all right — over there at Forlorn River?” queried Ina, haltingly. Her heart began to pound.
“Fine an’ dandy. Shore gettin’ better every day. Ben an’ me are on the rise.”
“Did Strobel visit you?”
“Stayed all night with us, an’ we’d never have knowed he was a sheriff.”.
“Did he — mention me?”
“I should smile. Reckon you was aboot all he talked aboot.” From pounding, Ina’s over-sensitive heart took to sinking. “What did he say?” Ina forced herself to ask.
“Wal, it was Ben’s fault that Strobel talked so much,” replied Nevada, with a smile that warmed and somehow reassured Ina. “Strobel wanted to talk hoss an’ range to us, but Ben wouldn’t give him no peace. Shore all Ben wanted to heah aboot was you. An’ all Strobel would tell him was how smart an’ pretty you were an’ how nice you treated him. Ben kept sayin’, ‘She knew you was comin’ heah an’ didn’t send no word!’ an’ then Strobel would say, ‘Ben, I don’t recollect no word, though she spoke of you casual-like, regardin’ the fight an’ wild ho’sses.’ Then Ben would groan an’ tear his hair. ‘That’s not like Ina Blaine.’”
Toward the end of this drawling speech, so agreeable in Nevada’s cool, easy tone, Ina speedily recovered her equanimity, and found herself excited over the purport of the rider’s presence.
“Come, let’s sit in the shade,” she said, cordially. “I’d like to lead your horse. Oh, isn’t he wonderful? A sorrel. Of course he was wild once. I see that in his eye. Yet he knows I won’t hurt him.”
“Lady, wait till you see California Red,” replied Nevada. “Talk aboot a grand hoss. An’ he’s goin’ to be yours before this year’s out.”
“Oh, has Ben been attracted by that extravagant offer of my father’s?” inquired Ina.
“Reckon he was first off. But now he swears when we ketch Red, that nobody could buy him, an’ he’s goin’ to give him to you.”
“That’s not good business for a poor wild-horse hunter,” said Ina, shaking her head. “You tell Ben to hold dad to that offer.”
Presently Ina found herself sitting in the shade with this friend of Ben’s, strangely revelling in the fact, and wholly at ease. She could look at him now without thinking of herself and her secret. He was indeed good to look at. She had never seen a face like his, long and lean, with clear brown skin, beardless and smooth, with a few strange hard lines that vanished when he smiled. His eyes were wonderful in their piercing blackness. Ina feared their penetrating power, yet felt secure under their gaze. She liked him. She trusted him. She felt a something sweet and protective that must have been his loyalty to Ben and his pride in Ben’s friend.
His lean head, with the ebony hair brushed back carelessly and curling at his collar, had some resemblance to that of an eagle. His garments, both cloth and leather, showed long service and somehow fitted him the better for that. He wore rough chaps, of a style Ina had not noticed among the cowboys on the ranch. From a pocket on the right leg, low down, protruded the handle of a deadly-looking gun. He had small feet, well-booted, and wore enormous spurs.
“I cain’t take Ben any messages without givin’ myself away,” he was saying.
“Nevada, surely you didn’t come out of curiosity to see me?” she asked, suddenly recalling the strange fact of his visit.
“No, I shore didn’t. But I was awful curious to see you, just the same.”
“Perhaps you wanted news of Hettie?” she ventured, shyly. Then it was Nevada’s turn to blush. It became him. It betrayed him, robbed him of that singularly cool and careless assurance.
“Shore I wanted it, but I swear I didn’t come purpose for that,” he asserted.
“Well, I’m glad I won’t disappoint you,” said Ina, gaily. “I saw Hettie two weeks ago yesterday. We had a long talk. She was well and happy. So glad her mother’s improving. She spoke of you. She likes you, believes you are Ben’s loyal friend. That you’re both honest and will give the lie to this vile gossip. Oh, you’d grow vain if I told you all.”
Indeed, Ina had been outspoken enough, to judge by Nevada’s agitation. A spasm of agony crossed his face, like a twisting shadow.
“My God! if I could only forget the past an’ remember only the present!” he exclaimed, despairingly.
‘ “Nevada, you can live down any past,” responded Ina, surprised and touched.
“Even if it was bad?”
“Yes, indeed.”
“Could I ever be worthy of Hettie?” he asked, wistfully. “Surely you could. Be what she wants you — what she asked you to be. That will make you worthy.”
“I love her,” he said, covering his face with his hands. He remained stiff and tense for a long moment, then his strong, brown hands left his face, and he was himself again. “Reckon I didn’t intend to talk of myself. But it’s no harm. Shore I’m glad you know how I feel. An’ shore it won’t do no harm for you to know how Ben feels.”
“And how’s — that?” asked Ina, catching her breath between words. The flash of his black eyes startled her. “Ben’s dyin’ of love for you!”
“Bon!... Dying? Oh Nevada, you’re — you’re—”
“Shore, I am. But that’s true. Ben’s breakin’. He’s strong an’ hard to kill. But it’s begun to knock him. He doesn’t eat or sleep or rest. He’s crazy aboot you.”
Ina had bowed as if under a storm and she leaned against the juniper, quivering under a blow of combined torture and bliss.
“Ina, forgive me for burstin’ right out with this,” Nevada went on, touching her head with gentle hands. “But we’ve got to do somethin’. Listen. Hettie told me she thought you loved Ben. That you’d loved him when you were kids an’ would never change. She only thought so, but now I know.
I’ve learned it heah. You don’t deny it, do you?”
“No, it’s — miserable — terrible — truth,” faltered Ina.
“It may shore be terrible, but not miserable,” he went on in a changed voice, swift, vibrant with strong feeling. “Ben an’ you will shore get to each other now. I’m goin’ to kill this heah Less Setter—”
“Nevada!” cried Ida, sitting up in frantic haste. “What are you saying? That’d be horrible.”
“Killin’ Setter may be the only way to save you two. He’s no stranger to me, Ina. We crossed in Nevada. He’s aboot the most powerful man wherever he goes. Shore he might step in his rope over heah, in which case, mebbe, there’d be no call to throw a gun on him.”
“Surely, Setter will ruin himself,” protested Ina.
“No doubt in the world aboot that,” agreed Nevada, “but if he’s let alone he’ll shore drag us to destruction with him. An’ we’re concerned with his dealin’s right heah an’ now....
Ina, if I’d been at Forlorn River when Setter rode in there—”
“Hettie Ide’s heart would have been broken,” interrupted Ina, ruthlessly.
That retort pierced Nevada’s armour and made him hang his head. But soon he ponderingly shook it erect.
“No, for two reasons. Reckon if she didn’t care for me, then it shore wouldn’t make no difference what I did. Seemed if she — Lord, it takes nerve even to suppose this — if she loved me — she’d not give me up for killin’ Setter. An’ I’ll tell you, Ina, it’ll turn out, an’ you’ll see that the law an’ the people will soon forget Setter. When they find him out they’ll welcome some fellow handy with guns. An’ that’s me, though it’s not known in these parts. Setter knows, though. He’d have to get advantage before he’d throw a gun on me as he did on Ben.”
“He meant to kill Ben, to get rid of him that way?” asked Ina, shuddering.
“Huh! He shore did, an’ it was my tough luck that I wasn’t there,” rejoined Nevada, shortly. “But we’ve drifted ‘way off the trail. I’m afraid of somethin’ worse than fightin’ for Ben. He might dodge bullets, but he cain’t dodge love. An’ love’s got him roped, hobbled down. That’s why I came over heah. To tell you what Ben wouldn’t unless you surprise or tear it out of him.”
Ina blindly held up a hand to this persuasive friend. “Tell him to come to me,” she whispered.
“I cain’t tell him that,” replied Nevada. “Shore he’d know I’d been to you. Find some other way. Reckon it’ll take more than Marvie to fetch him. When Hettie comes out, please let me see her. Tell her I love her. Tell her I’ll stick to Ben to my last gasp. Tell her we’re goin’ straight, an’ that Less Setter an’ all hell cain’t make us go crooked. Things are workin to a climax, Ina, an’ it’ll shore come by fall. Ben an’ I have a trump card to play. This Indian pard of Ben’s — Modoc we call him — is aboot the slickest scout an’ tracker I ever seen. We’re goin’ to trail these cattle thieves an’ ketch them red-handed. You can tell Hettie. What will your dad an’ Ben’s dad say then?.. Ina, we’re fightin’ mad an’ we cain’t be licked But you — only you can brace Ben up. Will you?’’
“Oh, Nevada, how good you are! Bless you!” whispered Ina, clinging to him. “I will — I will. I’ll see Ben if I have to ride to Forlorn River.”
CHAPTER X
BEN IDE FOUND himself exceedingly strained and nervous these days, and things that formerly he might have at least endured, now often threw him off balance.
This morning Nevada had mysteriously ridden off somewhere without a word to either him or Modoc. Nevada had a habit of doing that. Ben would not have been upset about it had they been anywhere except at Forlorn River. The Blaine summer camp across the lake had been a catastrophe for Ben.
“Modoc, did he ride off for that camp?” asked Ben, of his Indian helper.
“Me find no track on trail. Look other side lake. No savvy Nevada. He do what he want.”
“By golly! you said a lot,” growled Ben. “Go hunt all around, Modoc. Find his tracks.”
The Indian returned presently to report that he had found Nevada’s horse tracks across the river, headed down the west side of the lake.
“That’s darned funny. Could he be headed for Hammell?”
“His horse lope. Nevada no start long ride fast.”
“Sure he wouldn’t. He doesn’t care a damn for me, but he loves his horse. Any horse... Modoc, he was going to the Blaine camp, but not by the trail.”
The Indian corroborated that statement by a vigorous nod of head.
“Son-of-a-gun!” soliloquised Ben, broodingly. “Nevada’s going to kill that Less Setter, sure as I’m a miserable wretch. I’ve raved and cussed all to no good.”
Whereupon he grew exceedingly harassed by worry and dread.
“Somebody on trail,” spoke up the Indian, pointing with slow gesture.
Ben espied a cloud of dust far along the left side of the lake, and under it the dark figure of horse and rider. Ben’s hope that it might be Nevada was short-lived. He went indoors to get his field-glass With its aid he made out the rider to be a boy on a pony, which fact relieved Ben of anxiety and annoyance. Still, the visitor might be a messenger from Camp Blaine. Ben had to abide the wait in patience, something he was short of these last trying weeks. Before the rider grew close enough for possible recognition or scrutiny he passed out of sight under the ridge of Ben’s high promontory. When he reappeared, on the Forlorn River side, Ben recognised the bright, freckled face of Marvie Blaine.
“Howdy, Ben!” the lad greeted him, radiantly. “Didn’t have no chance to be with you that other day, so I come again.”
“Well, boy pard, get down and come in,” replied Ben, delighted beyond expression. “I hardly saw you that day. But you didn’t lack amusement, did you?”
“I sure didn’t,” returned Marvie, meaningly, as he fixed Ben with the rapt eyes of hero worship.
“Marvie, I’m awful glad to see you. It was darn good of you to come. And I’m going to give you a wild pony for thinking of poor lonely Ben Ide. He’s only a colt and but half broke. It’ll be best for me to keep him awhile, till you can ride him.”
“Ben Ide, you’re a-goin’ to give me a wild colt?” shouted the lad.
“Sure am,” smiled Ben.
“Whoopee! When all I was wantin’ was to see you an’ go fishin’. Gee! the luck!”
“Well, climb off that cayuse and come see some good horses. Aha! I see you’ve brought your jointed fish-pole. Let’s see.... It’s not very strong, Marvie, not for my trout.”
“Gee!” exclaimed Marvie, with eyes growing round. “Modoc, you take care of Marvie’s pony,” said Ben, sitting down on the porch to examine the lad’s fishing tackle. “I use a cut-pole, Marvie, and as long a line as I can cast. Good and strong. These trout are husky. If you hook a big one he’ll bust this outfit all to flinders. Do you want to risk it?”
“Sure. I told dad it was no good. Got it for Christmas. If I bust it let me use yours.”
“Rig it up now your way. Nothing pleases any fisherman so much as his own ways... Say, Marvie, did you meet my pardner, Nevada? He rode over that way this morning.”
“Didn’t meet no one,” replied the lad. “An’ you bet I had my eyes peeled.”
“Well, he was on the other side of the lake from you. Thought maybe he might have cut across round the dry lake bed.”
“Nevada? Was he goin’ to our ranch?” queried Marvie with interest.
“Modoc thinks so, and I guess I do, too.”
“What for? I hear the cowboys talkin’ about you an’ Nevada. They like you both a heap, since you licked Setter, They’re more curious about Nevada, though. He’s a stranger. Why’d he go to dad’s ranch?”
“I’m not sure, Marvie, but I’m some worried,” replied Ben, looking the lad squarely in the eye. It was a handsome boyish face, with features enough like his sister’s to make Ben look and look with possession-taking gladness. Marvie struck him as being a bright youngster, longing for a life just like his and Nevada’s, at a most impressionable age, and perhaps not getting along well with his father. Ben sympathised with Marvie. Then it seemed to Ben that he was idolised by this lad. He felt a melancholy happiness: It brought him closer to Ina. Likewise it made him slow to judge how best to meet Marvie’s advances.
“Huh! I’ll bet you’re worried for fear Nevada will do worse to Setter than you did,” declared Marvie.
“Son, you’re not far wrong,” replied Ben, smiling at the boy’s acumen.
“Bill Sneed said he’d bet Nevada would never have throwed Setter’s gun away. He’d have throwed it on him.... Well, Ben, you needn’t worry about Setter gettin’ it to-day, or very soon, ‘cause he went to Klamath to get the teeth you knocked out put back.”
“Say, I must have bunged Setter up some,” laughed Ben. “I was pretty mad. Just had sense enough to fight and not shoot.”
“Let’s talk of someone else. Setter makes me sick. I found out yesterday that, his bein’ kind to me, givin’ me things, lendin’ me guns an’ horses, was just to get me out of the way.”
“Out of the way?” echoed Ben, with a sudden start.
“Sure. He’s after Ina,” declared the lad, vehemently nodding his head. “He’s got dad buffaloed, so the cowboys say, an’ now—”
“After Ina!” flashed Ben, suddenly on fire. “No, Marvie, not that — that—”
“Sure as you’re born,” said Marvie, interrupting in turn. “It’s doggone sickenin’. I wish I was bigger an’ older.... Ben, you needn’t look like you was at a funeral. Ina hates Setter. Hates him like my dog hates a skunk. It won’t make no difference what dad says or wants. Look what she did to McAdam. That dude stood in with dad an’ thought he was engaged to Ina. Was he? I should snigger not. Do you know what she did — when he got gay tryin’ to kiss her? Ma saw the whole thing... She told me, ‘cause she didn’t ever want me to be like McAdam. What do you think of that, Ben?”
