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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:43:16 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:43:16 -0700 |
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diff --git a/13937-h/13937-h.htm b/13937-h/13937-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0f8554b --- /dev/null +++ b/13937-h/13937-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,10016 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<html> +<head> +<meta name="generator" content= +"HTML Tidy for Windows (vers 1st February 2004), see www.w3.org"> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content= +"text/html; charset=UTF-8"> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Mysterious Rider, by Zane +Grey.</title> + +<style type="text/css"> + <!-- + P { margin-top: .75em; + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; } + blockquote {text-align: justify; + margin-left: 15%; + margin-right: 15%;} + IMG { + BORDER-RIGHT: 0px; + BORDER-TOP: 0px; + BORDER-LEFT: 0px; + BORDER-BOTTOM: 0px } + .loc { TEXT-ALIGN: right; + margin-left: 15%; + margin-right: 15%;} + .ctr { TEXT-ALIGN: center } + + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; } + HR { width: 33%; } + // --> +</style> +</head> +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 13937 ***</div> + +<a name="cover.jpg"></a> +<p class="ctr"><a href="images/cover.jpg"><img src= +"images/cover.jpg" width="45%" alt=""></a></p> +<br> +<br> +<a name="frontispiece.jpg"></a> +<p class="ctr"><a href="images/frontispiece.jpg"><img src= +"images/frontispiece.jpg" width="100%" alt=""></a><br> +<b>That round-up showed a loss of one hundred head of stock.<br> +Belllounds received the amazing news with a roar.</b></p> +<br> +<br> +<h2>THE</h2> +<h1>MYSTERIOUS RIDER</h1> +<h3>A NOVEL</h3> +<br> +<h4>BY</h4> +<h2>ZANE GREY</h2> +<br> +<br> +<h5>AUTHOR OF</h5> +<h4>THE MAN OF THE FOREST,<br> +THE U.P. TRAIL,<br> +RIDERS OF THE PURPLE SAGE,<br> +THE DESERT OF WHEAT, ETC.</h4> +<br> +<br> +<h5>1921</h5> +<br> +<br> +<center>[<a href="#CHAPTER_I">1</a>] [<a href="#CHAPTER_II">2</a>] +[<a href="#CHAPTER_III">3</a>] [<a href="#CHAPTER_IV">4</a>] +[<a href="#CHAPTER_V">5</a>] [<a href="#CHAPTER_VI">6</a>] +[<a href="#CHAPTER_VII">7</a>] [<a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">8</a>] +[<a href="#CHAPTER_IX">9</a>] [<a href="#CHAPTER_X">10</a>]<br> +[<a href="#CHAPTER_XI">11</a>] [<a href="#CHAPTER_XII">12</a>] +[<a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">13</a>] [<a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">14</a>] +[<a href="#CHAPTER_XV">15</a>] [<a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">16</a>] +[<a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">17</a>] [<a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">18</a>] +[<a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">19</a>] [<a href= +"#CHAPTER_XX">20</a>]</center> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2>ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> +<center> +<table summary=""> +<tr> +<td>That round-up showed a loss of one hundred head of stock.</td> +<td> </td> +<td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> Belllounds received the amazing +news with a roar.</td> +<td> </td> +<td align="right"><i><a href= +"#frontispiece.jpg">Frontispiece</a></i></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>"I know why you're going. It's to see that club-footed</td> +<td> </td> +<td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> cowboy Moore!... Don't let me +catch you with him"</td> +<td> </td> +<td align="right"><i>Facing p.</i> <a href="#p096.jpg">98</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>"I'm beginnin' to feel that I couldn't let her marry that +Buster Jack,"</td> +<td> </td> +<td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> soliloquized Wade, as he rode +along the grassy trail.</td> +<td> </td> +<td align="right"><a href="#p160.jpg">164</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td>"Jack Belllounds!" she cried.</td> +<td> </td> +<td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> "You put the sheriff on that +trail!".</td> +<td> </td> +<td align="right"><a href="#p280.jpg">280</a></td> +</tr> +</table> +</center> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2>THE MYSTERIOUS RIDER</h2> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I</h2> +<br> +<p>A September sun, losing some of its heat if not its brilliance, +was dropping low in the west over the black Colorado range. Purple +haze began to thicken in the timbered notches. Gray foothills, +round and billowy, rolled down from the higher country. They were +smooth, sweeping, with long velvety slopes and isolated patches of +aspens that blazed in autumn gold. Splotches of red vine colored +the soft gray of sage. Old White Slides, a mountain scarred by +avalanche, towered with bleak rocky peak above the valley, +sheltering it from the north.</p> +<p>A girl rode along the slope, with gaze on the sweep and range +and color of the mountain fastness that was her home. She followed +an old trail which led to a bluff overlooking an arm of the valley. +Once it had been a familiar lookout for her, but she had not +visited the place of late. It was associated with serious hours of +her life. Here seven years before, when she was twelve, she had +made a hard choice to please her guardian--the old rancher whom she +loved and called father, who had indeed been a father to her. That +choice had been to go to school in Denver. Four years she had lived +away from her beloved gray hills and black mountains. Only once +since her return had she climbed to this height, and that occasion, +too, was memorable as an unhappy hour. It had been three years ago. +To-day girlish ordeals and griefs seemed back in the past: she was +a woman at nineteen and face to face with the first great problem +in her life.</p> +<p>The trail came up back of the bluff, through a clump of aspens +with white trunks and yellow fluttering leaves, and led across a +level bench of luxuriant grass and wild flowers to the rocky +edge.</p> +<p>She dismounted and threw the bridle. Her mustang, used to being +petted, rubbed his sleek, dark head against her and evidently +expected like demonstration in return, but as none was forthcoming +he bent his nose to the grass and began grazing. The girl's eyes +were intent upon some waving, slender, white-and-blue flowers. They +smiled up wanly, like pale stars, out of the long grass that had a +tinge of gold.</p> +<p>"Columbines," she mused, wistfully, as she plucked several of +the flowers and held them up to gaze wonderingly at them, as if to +see in them some revelation of the mystery that shrouded her birth +and her name. Then she stood with dreamy gaze upon the distant +ranges.</p> +<p>"Columbine!... So they named me--those miners who found me--a +baby--lost in the woods--asleep among the columbines." She spoke +aloud, as if the sound of her voice might convince her.</p> +<p>So much of the mystery of her had been revealed that day by the +man she had always called father. Vaguely she had always been +conscious of some mystery, something strange about her childhood, +some relation never explained.</p> +<p>"No name but Columbine," she whispered, sadly, and now she +understood a strange longing of her heart.</p> +<p>Scarcely an hour back, as she ran down the Wide porch of White +Slides ranch-house, she had encountered the man who had taken care +of her all her life. He had looked upon her as kindly and fatherly +as of old, yet with a difference. She seemed to see him as old Bill +Belllounds, pioneer and rancher, of huge frame and broad face, hard +and scarred and grizzled, with big eyes of blue fire.</p> +<p>"Collie," the old man had said, "I reckon hyar's news. A letter +from Jack.... He's comin' home."</p> +<p>Belllounds had waved the letter. His huge hand trembled as he +reached to put it on her shoulder. The hardness of him seemed +strangely softened. Jack was his son. Buster Jack, the range had +always called him, with other terms, less kind, that never got to +the ears of his father. Jack had been sent away three years ago, +just before Columbine's return from school. Therefore she had not +seen him for over seven years. But she remembered him well--a big, +rangy boy, handsome and wild, who had made her childhood almost +unendurable.</p> +<p>"Yes--my son--Jack--he's comin' home," said Belllounds, with a +break in his voice. "An', Collie--now I must tell you +somethin'."</p> +<p>"Yes, dad," she had replied, with strong clasp of the heavy hand +on her shoulder.</p> +<p>"Thet's just it, lass. I ain't your dad. I've tried to be a dad +to you an' I've loved you as my own. But you're not flesh an' blood +of mine. An' now I must tell you."</p> +<p>The brief story followed. Seventeen years ago miners working a +claim of Belllounds's in the mountains above Middle Park had found +a child asleep in the columbines along the trail. Near that point +Indians, probably Arapahoes coming across the mountains to attack +the Utes, had captured or killed the occupants of a +prairie-schooner. There was no other clue. The miners took the +child to their camp, fed and cared for it, and, after the manner of +their kind, named it Columbine. Then they brought it to +Belllounds.</p> +<p>"Collie," said the old rancher, "it needn't never have been +told, an' wouldn't but fer one reason. I'm gettin' old. I reckon +I'd never split my property between you an' Jack. So I mean you an' +him to marry. You always steadied Jack. With a wife like you'll +be--wal, mebbe Jack'll--"</p> +<p>"Dad!" burst out Columbine. "Marry Jack!... Why I--I don't even +remember him!"</p> +<p>"Haw! Haw!" laughed Belllounds. "Wal, you dog-gone soon will. +Jack's in Kremmlin', an' he'll be hyar to-night or to-morrow."</p> +<p>"But--I--I don't l-love him," faltered Columbine.</p> +<p>The old man lost his mirth; the strong-lined face resumed its +hard cast; the big eyes smoldered. Her appealing objection had +wounded him. She was reminded of how sensitive the old man had +always been to any reflection cast upon his son.</p> +<p>"Wal, thet's onlucky;" he replied, gruffly. "Mebbe you'll +change. I reckon no girl could help a boy much, onless she cared +for him. Anyway, you an' Jack will marry."</p> +<p>He had stalked away and Columbine had ridden her mustang far up +the valley slope where she could be alone. Standing on the verge of +the bluff, she suddenly became aware that the quiet and solitude of +her lonely resting-place had been disrupted. Cattle were bawling +below her and along the slope of old White Slides and on the grassy +uplands above. She had forgotten that the cattle were being driven +down into the lowlands for the fall round-up. A great +red-and-white-spotted herd was milling in the park just beneath +her. Calves and yearlings were making the dust fly along the +mountain slope; wild old steers were crashing in the sage, holding +level, unwilling to be driven down; cows were running and lowing +for their lost ones. Melodious and clear rose the clarion calls of +the cowboys. The cattle knew those calls and only the wild steers +kept up-grade.</p> +<p>Columbine also knew each call and to which cowboy it belonged. +They sang and yelled and swore, but it was all music to her. Here +and there along the slope, where the aspen groves clustered, a +horse would flash across an open space; the dust would fly, and a +cowboy would peal out a lusty yell that rang along the slope and +echoed under the bluff and lingered long after the daring rider had +vanished in the steep thickets.</p> +<p>"I wonder which is Wils," murmured Columbine, as she watched and +listened, vaguely conscious of a little difference, a strange check +in her remembrance of this particular cowboy. She felt the change, +yet did not understand. One after one she recognized the riders on +the slopes below, but Wilson Moore was not among them. He must be +above her, then, and she turned to gaze across the grassy bluff, up +the long, yellow slope, to where the gleaming aspens half hid a red +bluff of mountain, towering aloft. Then from far to her left, high +up a scrubby ridge of the slope, rang down a voice that thrilled +her: "<i>Go--aloong--you-ooooo</i>." Red cattle dashed pell-mell +down the slope, raising the dust, tearing the brush, rolling rocks, +and letting out hoarse bawls.</p> +<p>"<i>Whoop-ee</i>!" High-pitched and pealing came a clearer +yell.</p> +<p>Columbine saw a white mustang flash out on top of the ridge, +silhouetted against the blue, with mane and tail flying. His gait +on that edge of steep slope proved his rider to be a reckless +cowboy for whom no heights or depths had terrors. She would have +recognized him from the way he rode, if she had not known the slim, +erect figure. The cowboy saw her instantly. He pulled the mustang, +about to plunge down the slope, and lifted him, rearing and +wheeling. Then Columbine waved her hand. The cowboy spurred his +horse along the crest of the ridge, disappeared behind the grove of +aspens, and came in sight again around to the right, where on the +grassy bench he slowed to a walk in descent to the bluff.</p> +<p>The girl watched him come, conscious of an unfamiliar sense of +uncertainty in this meeting, and of the fact that she was seeing +him differently from any other time in the years he had been a +playmate, a friend, almost like a brother. He had ridden for +Belllounds for years, and was a cowboy because he loved cattle well +and horses better, and above all a life in the open. Unlike most +cowboys, he had been to school; he had a family in Denver that +objected to his wild range life, and often importuned him to come +home; he seemed aloof sometimes and not readily understood.</p> +<p>While many thoughts whirled through Columbine's mind she watched +the cowboy ride slowly down to her, and she became more concerned +with a sudden restraint. How was Wilson going to take the news of +this forced change about to come in her life? That thought leaped +up. It gave her a strange pang. But she and he were only good +friends. As to that, she reflected, of late they had not been the +friends and comrades they formerly were. In the thrilling +uncertainty of this meeting she had forgotten his distant manner +and the absence of little attentions she had missed.</p> +<p>By this time the cowboy had reached the level, and with the lazy +grace of his kind slipped out of the saddle. He was tall, slim, +round-limbed, with the small hips of a rider, and square, though +not broad shoulders. He stood straight like an Indian. His eyes +were hazel, his features regular, his face bronzed. All men of the +open had still, lean, strong faces, but added to this in him was a +steadiness of expression, a restraint that seemed to hide +sadness.</p> +<p>"Howdy, Columbine!" he said. "What are you doing up here? You +might get run over."</p> +<p>"Hello, Wils!" she replied, slowly. "Oh, I guess I can keep out +of the way."</p> +<p>"Some bad steers in that bunch. If any of them run over here +Pronto will leave you to walk home. That mustang hates cattle. And +he's only half broke, you know."</p> +<p>"I forgot you were driving to-day," she replied, and looked away +from him. There was a moment's pause--long, it seemed to her.</p> +<p>"What'd you come for?" he asked, curiously.</p> +<p>"I wanted to gather columbines. See." She held out the nodding +flowers toward him. "Take one.... Do you like them?"</p> +<p>"Yes. I like columbine," he replied, taking one of them. His +keen hazel eyes, softened, darkened. "Colorado's flower."</p> +<p>"Columbine!... It is my name."</p> +<p>"Well, could you have a better? It sure suits you."</p> +<p>"Why?" she asked, and she looked at him again.</p> +<p>"You're slender--graceful. You sort of hold your head high and +proud. Your skin is white. Your eyes are blue. Not bluebell blue, +but columbine blue--and they turn purple when you're angry."</p> +<p>"Compliments! Wilson, this is new kind of talk for you," she +said.</p> +<p>"You're different to-day."</p> +<p>"Yes, I am." She looked across the valley toward the westering +sun, and the slight flush faded from her cheeks. "I have no right +to hold my head proud. No one knows who I am--where I came +from."</p> +<p>"As if that made any difference!" he exclaimed.</p> +<p>"Belllounds is not my dad. I have no dad. I was a waif. They +found me in the woods--a baby--lost among the flowers. Columbine +Belllounds I've always been. But that is not my name. No one can +tell what my name really is."</p> +<p>"I knew your story years ago, Columbine," he replied, earnestly. +"Everybody knows. Old Bill ought to have told you long before this. +But he loves you. So does--everybody. You must not let this +knowledge sadden you.... I'm sorry you've never known a mother or a +sister. Why, I could tell you of many orphans who--whose stories +were different."</p> +<p>"You don't understand. I've been happy. I've not longed for +any--any one except a mother. It's only--"</p> +<p>"What don't I understand?"</p> +<p>"I've not told you all."</p> +<p>"No? Well, go on," he said, slowly.</p> +<p>Meaning of the hesitation and the restraint that had obstructed +her thought now flashed over Columbine. It lay in what Wilson Moore +might think of her prospective marriage to Jack Belllounds. Still +she could not guess why that should make her feel strangely +uncertain of the ground she stood on or how it could cause a +constraint she had to fight herself to hide. Moreover, to her +annoyance, she found that she was evading his direct request for +the news she had withheld.</p> +<p>"Jack Belllounds is coming home to-night or to-morrow," she +said. Then, waiting for her companion to reply, she kept an +unseeing gaze upon the scanty pines fringing Old White Slides. But +no reply appeared to be forthcoming from Moore. His silence +compelled her to turn to him. The cowboy's face had subtly altered; +it was darker with a tinge of red under the bronze; and his lower +lip was released from his teeth, even as she looked. He had his +eyes intent upon the lasso he was coiling. Suddenly he faced her +and the dark fire of his eyes gave her a shock.</p> +<p>I've been expecting that shorthorn back for months." he said, +bluntly.</p> +<p>"You--never--liked Jack?" queried Columbine, slowly. That was +not what she wanted to say, but the thought spoke itself.</p> +<p>"I should smile I never did."</p> +<p>"Ever since you and he fought--long ago--all over--"</p> +<p>His sharp gesture made the coiled lasso loosen.</p> +<p>"Ever since I licked him good--don't forget that," interrupted +Wilson. The red had faded from the bronze.</p> +<p>"Yes, you licked him," mused Columbine. "I remember that. And +Jack's hated you ever since."</p> +<p>"There's been no love lost."</p> +<p>"But, Wils, you never before talked this way--spoke out +so--against Jack," she protested.</p> +<p>"Well, I'm not the kind to talk behind a fellow's back. But I'm +not mealy-mouthed, either, and--and--"</p> +<p>He did not complete the sentence and his meaning was enigmatic. +Altogether Moore seemed not like himself. The fact disturbed +Columbine. Always she had confided in him. Here was a most complex +situation--she burned to tell him, yet somehow feared to--she felt +an incomprehensible satisfaction in his bitter reference to +Jack--she seemed to realize that she valued Wilson's friendship +more than she had known, and now for some strange reason it was +slipping from her.</p> +<p>"We--we were such good friends--pards," said Columbine, +hurriedly and irrelevantly.</p> +<p>"Who?" He stared at her.</p> +<p>"Why, you--and me."</p> +<p>"Oh!" His tone softened, but there was still disapproval in his +glance. "What of that?"</p> +<p>"Something has happened to make me think I've missed +you--lately--that's all."</p> +<p>"Ahuh!" His tone held finality and bitterness, but he would not +commit himself. Columbine sensed a pride in him that seemed the +cause of his aloofness.</p> +<p>"Wilson, why have you been different lately?" she asked, +plaintively.</p> +<p>"What's the good to tell you now?" he queried, in reply.</p> +<p>That gave her a blank sense of actual loss. She had lived in +dreams and he in realities. Right now she could not dispel her +dream--see and understand all that he seemed to. She felt like a +child, then, growing old swiftly. The strange past longing for a +mother surged up in her like a strong tide. Some one to lean on, +some one who loved her, some one to help her in this hour when +fatality knocked at the door of her youth--how she needed that!</p> +<p>"It might be bad for me--to tell me, but tell me, anyhow," she +said, finally, answering as some one older than she had been an +hour ago--to something feminine that leaped up. She did not +understand this impulse, but it was in her.</p> +<p>"No!" declared Moore, with dark red staining his face. He +slapped the lasso against his saddle, and tied it with clumsy +hands. He did not look at her. His tone expressed anger and +amaze.</p> +<p>"Dad says I must marry Jack," she said, with a sudden return to +her natural simplicity.</p> +<p>"I heard him tell that months ago," snapped Moore.</p> +<p>"You did! Was that--why?" she whispered.</p> +<p>"It was," he answered, ringingly.</p> +<p>"But that was no reason for you to be--be--to stay away from +me," she declared, with rising spirit.</p> +<p>He laughed shortly.</p> +<p>"Wils, didn't you like me any more after dad said that?" she +queried.</p> +<p>"Columbine, a girl nineteen years and about to--to get +married--ought not be a fool," he replied, with sarcasm.</p> +<p>"I'm not a fool," she rejoined, hotly.</p> +<p>"You ask fool questions."</p> +<p>"Well, you <i>didn't</i> like me afterward or you'd never have +mistreated me."</p> +<p>"If you say I mistreated you--you say what's untrue," he +replied, just as hotly.</p> +<p>They had never been so near a quarrel before. Columbine +experienced a sensation new to her--a commingling of fear, heat, +and pang, it seemed, all in one throb. Wilson was hurting her. A +quiver ran all over her, along her veins, swelling and +tingling.</p> +<p>"You mean I lie?" she flashed.</p> +<p>"Yes, I do--if--"</p> +<p>But before he could conclude she slapped his face. It grew pale +then, while she began to tremble.</p> +<p>"Oh--I didn't intend that. Forgive me," she faltered.</p> +<p>He rubbed his cheek. The hurt had not been great, so far as the +blow was concerned. But his eyes were dark with pain and anger.</p> +<p>"Oh, don't distress yourself," he burst out. "You slapped me +before--once, years ago--for kissing you. I--I apologize for saying +you lied. You're only out of your head. So am I."</p> +<p>That poured oil upon the troubled waters. The cowboy appeared to +be hesitating between sudden flight and the risk of staying +longer.</p> +<p>"Maybe that's it," replied Columbine, with a half-laugh. She was +not far from tears and fury with herself. "Let us make up--be +friends again."</p> +<p>Moore squared around aggressively. He seemed to fortify himself +against something in her. She felt that. But his face grew harder +and older than she had ever seen it.</p> +<p>"Columbine, do you know where Jack Belllounds has been for these +three years?" he asked, deliberately, entirely ignoring her +overtures of friendship.</p> +<p>"No. Somebody said Denver. Some one else said Kansas City. I +never asked dad, because I knew Jack had been sent away. I've +supposed he was working--making a man of himself."</p> +<p>"Well, I hope to Heaven--for your sake--what you suppose comes +true," returned Moore, with exceeding bitterness.</p> +<p>"Do <i>you</i> know where he has been?" asked Columbine. Some +strange feeling prompted that. There was a mystery here. Wilson's +agitation seemed strange and deep.</p> +<p>"Yes, I do." The cowboy bit that out through closing teeth, as +if locking them against an almost overmastering temptation.</p> +<p>Columbine lost her curiosity. She was woman enough to realize +that there might well be facts which would only make her situation +harder.</p> +<p>"Wilson," she began, hurriedly, "I owe all I am to dad. He has +cared for me--sent me to school. He has been so good to me. I've +loved him always. It would be a shabby return for all his +protection and love if--if I refused--"</p> +<p>"Old Bill is the best man ever," interrupted Moore, as if to +repudiate any hint of disloyalty to his employer. "Everybody in +Middle Park and all over owes Bill something. He's sure good. There +never was anything wrong with him except his crazy blindness about +his son. Buster Jack--the--the--"</p> +<p>Columbine put a hand over Moore's lips.</p> +<p>"The man I must marry," she said, solemnly.</p> +<p>"You must--you will?" he demanded.</p> +<p>"Of course. What else could I do? I never thought of +refusing."</p> +<p>"Columbine!" Wilson's cry was so poignant, his gesture so +violent, his dark eyes so piercing that Columbine sustained a shock +that held her trembling and mute. "How can you love Jack +Belllounds? You were twelve years old when you saw him last. How +can you love him?"</p> +<p>"I don't" replied Columbine.</p> +<p>"Then how could you marry him?"</p> +<p>"I owe dad obedience. It's his hope that I can steady Jack."</p> +<p>"<i>Steady Jack!</i>" exclaimed Moore, passionately. "Why, you +girl--you white-faced flower! <i>You</i> with your innocence and +sweetness steady that damned pup! My Heavens! He was a gambler and +a drunkard. He--"</p> +<p>"Hush!" implored Columbine.</p> +<p>"He cheated at cards," declared the cowboy, with a scorn that +placed that vice as utterly base.</p> +<p>"But Jack was only a wild boy," replied Columbine, trying with +brave words to champion the son of the man she loved as her father. +"He has been sent away to work. He'll have outgrown that wildness. +He'll come home a man."</p> +<p>"Bah!" cried Moore, harshly.</p> +<p>Columbine felt a sinking within her. Where was her strength? +She, who could walk and ride so many miles, to become sick with an +inward quaking! It was childish. She struggled to hide her weakness +from him.</p> +<p>"It's not like you to be this way," she said. "You used to be +generous. Am I to blame? Did I choose my life?"</p> +<p>Moore looked quickly away from her, and, standing with a hand on +his horse, he was silent for a moment. The squaring of his +shoulders bore testimony to his thought. Presently he swung up into +the saddle. The mustang snorted and champed the bit and tossed his +head, ready to bolt.</p> +<p>"Forget my temper," begged the cowboy, looking down upon +Columbine. "I take it all back. I'm sorry. Don't let a word of mine +worry you. I was only jealous."</p> +<p>"Jealous!" exclaimed Columbine, wonderingly.</p> +<p>"Yes. That makes a fellow see red and green. Bad medicine! You +never felt it."</p> +<p>"What were you jealous of?" asked Columbine.</p> +<p>The cowboy had himself in hand now and he regarded her with a +grim amusement.</p> +<p>"Well, Columbine, it's like a story," he replied. "I'm the +fellow disowned by his family--a wanderer of the wilds--no +good--and no prospects.... Now our friend Jack, he's handsome and +rich. He has a doting old dad. Cattle, horses--ranches! He wins the +girl. See!"</p> +<p>Spurring his mustang, the cowboy rode away. At the edge of the +slope he turned in the saddle. "I've got to drive in this bunch of +cattle. It's late. You hurry home." Then he was gone. The stones +cracked and rolled down under the side of the bluff.</p> +<p>Columbine stood where he had left her: dubious, yet with the +blood still hot in her cheeks.</p> +<p>"Jealous?... He wins the girl?" she murmured in repetition to +herself. "What ever could he have meant? He didn't mean--he +didn't--"</p> +<p>The simple, logical interpretation of Wilson's words opened +Columbine's mind to a disturbing possibility of which she had never +dreamed. That he might love her! If he did, why had he not said so? +Jealous, maybe, but he did not love her! The next throb of thought +was like a knock at a door of her heart--a door never yet opened, +inside which seemed a mystery of feeling, of hope, despair, unknown +longing, and clamorous voices. The woman just born in her, +instinctive and self-preservative, shut that door before she had +more than a glimpse inside. But then she felt her heart swell with +its nameless burdens.</p> +<p>Pronto was grazing near at hand. She caught him and mounted. It +struck her then that her hands were numb with cold. The wind had +ceased fluttering the aspens, but the yellow leaves were falling, +rustling. Out on the brow of the slope she faced home and the +west.</p> +<p>A glorious Colorado sunset had just reached the wonderful height +of its color and transformation. The sage slopes below her seemed +rosy velvet; the golden aspens on the farther reaches were on fire +at the tips; the foothills rolled clear and mellow and rich in the +light; the gulf of distance on to the great black range was veiled +in mountain purple; and the dim peaks beyond the range stood up, +sunset-flushed and grand. The narrow belt of blue sky between crags +and clouds was like a river full of fleecy sails and wisps of +silver. Above towered a pall of dark cloud, full of the shades of +approaching night.</p> +<p>"Oh, beautiful!" breathed the girl, with all her worship of +nature. That wild world of sunset grandeur and loneliness and +beauty was hers. Over there, under a peak of the black range, was +the place where she had been found, a baby, lost in the forest. She +belonged to that, and so it belonged to her. Strength came to her +from the glory of light on the hills.</p> +<p>Pronto shot up his ears and checked his trot.</p> +<p>"What is it, boy?" called Columbine. The trail was getting dark. +Shadows were creeping up the slope as she rode down to meet them. +The mustang had keen sight and scent. She reined him to a halt.</p> +<p>All was silent. The valley had begun to shade on the far side +and the rose and gold seemed fading from the nearer. Below, on the +level floor of the valley, lay the rambling old ranch-house, with +the cabins nestling around, and the corrals leading out to the soft +hay-fields, misty and gray in the twilight. A single light gleamed. +It was like a beacon.</p> +<p>The air was cold with a nip of frost. From far on the other side +of the ridge she had descended came the bawls of the last +straggling cattle of the round-up. But surely Pronto had not shot +up his ears for them. As if in answer a wild sound pealed down the +slope, making the mustang jump. Columbine had heard it before.</p> +<p>"Pronto, it's only a wolf," she soothed him.</p> +<p>The peal was loud, rather harsh at first, then softened to a +mourn, wild, lonely, haunting. A pack of coyotes barked in angry +answer, a sharp, staccato, yelping chorus, the more piercing notes +biting on the cold night air. These mountain mourns and yelps were +music to Columbine. She rode on down the trail in the gathering +darkness, less afraid of the night and its wild denizens than of +what awaited her at White Slides Ranch.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II</h2> +<br> +<p>Darkness settled down like a black mantle over the valley. +Columbine rather hoped to find Wilson waiting to take care of her +horse, as used to be his habit, but she was disappointed. No light +showed from the cabin in which the cowboys lived; he had not yet +come in from the round-up. She unsaddled, and turned Pronto loose +in the pasture.</p> +<p>The windows of the long, low ranch-house were bright squares in +the blackness, sending cheerful rays afar. Columbine wondered in +trepidation if Jack Belllounds had come home. It required effort of +will to approach the house. Yet since she must meet him, the sooner +the ordeal was over the better. Nevertheless she tiptoed past the +bright windows, and went all the length of the long porch, and +turned around and went back, and then hesitated, fighting a slow +drag of her spirit, an oppression upon her heart. The door was +crude and heavy. It opened hard.</p> +<p>Columbine entered a big room lighted by a lamp on the upper +table and by blazing logs in a huge stone fireplace. This was the +living-room, rather gloomy in the corners, and bare, but +comfortable, for all simple needs. The logs were new and the chinks +between them filled with clay, still white, showing that the house +was of recent build.</p> +<p>The rancher, Belllounds, sat in his easy-chair before the fire, +his big, horny hands extended to the warmth. He was in his +shirt-sleeves, a gray, bold-faced man, of over sixty years, still +muscular and rugged.</p> +<p>At Columbine's entrance he raised his drooping head, and so +removed the suggestion of sadness in his posture.</p> +<p>"Wal, lass, hyar you are," was his greeting. "Jake has been +hollerin' thet chuck was ready. Now we can eat."</p> +<p>"Dad--did--did your son come?" asked Columbine.</p> +<p>"No. I got word jest at sundown. One of Baker's cowpunchers from +up the valley. He rode up from Kremmlin' an' stopped to say Jack +was celebratin' his arrival by too much red liquor. Reckon he won't +be home to-night. Mebbe to-morrow."</p> +<p>Belllounds spoke in an even, heavy tone, without any apparent +feeling. Always he was mercilessly frank and never spared the +truth. But Columbine, who knew him well, felt how this news flayed +him. Resentment stirred in her toward the wayward son, but she knew +better than to voice it.</p> +<p>"Natural like, I reckon, fer Jack to feel gay on gettin' home. I +ain't holdin' thet ag'in' him. These last three years must have +been gallin' to thet boy."</p> +<p>Columbine stretched her hands to the blaze.</p> +<p>"It's cold, dad," she averred. "I didn't dress warmly, so I +nearly froze. Autumn is here and there's frost in the air. Oh, the +hills were all gold and red--the aspen leaves were falling. I love +autumn, but it means winter is so near."</p> +<p>"Wal, wal, time flies," sighed the old man. "Where'd you +ride?"</p> +<p>"Up the west slope to the bluff. It's far. I don't go there +often."</p> +<p>"Meet any of the boys? I sent the outfit to drive stock down +from the mountain. I've lost a good many head lately. They're +eatin' some weed thet poisons them. They swell up an' die. Wuss +this year than ever before."</p> +<p>"Why, that is serious, dad! Poor things! That's worse than +eating loco.... Yes, I met Wilson Moore driving down the +slope."</p> +<p>"Ahuh! Wal, let's eat."</p> +<p>They took seats at the table which the cook, Jake, was loading +with steaming victuals. Supper appeared to be a rather sumptuous +one this evening, in honor of the expected guest, who had not come. +Columbine helped the old man to his favorite dishes, stealing +furtive glances at his lined and shadowed face. She sensed a subtle +change in him since the afternoon, but could not see any sign of it +in his look or demeanor. His appetite was as hearty as ever.</p> +<p>"So you met Wils. Is he still makin' up to you?" asked +Belllounds, presently.</p> +<p>"No, he isn't. I don't see that he ever did--that--dad," she +replied.</p> +<p>"You're a kid in mind an' a woman in body. Thet cowpuncher has +been lovesick over you since you were a little girl. It's what kept +him hyar ridin' fer me."</p> +<p>"Dad, I don't believe it," said Columbine, feeling the blood at +her temples. "You always imagined such things about Wilson, and the +other boys as well."</p> +<p>"Ahuh! I'm an old fool about wimmen, hey? Mebbe I was years ago. +But I can see now.... Didn't Wils always get ory-eyed when any of +the other boys shined up to you?"</p> +<p>"I can't remember that he did," replied Columbine. She felt a +desire to laugh, yet the subject was anything but amusing to +her.</p> +<p>"Wal, you've always been innocent-like. Thank the Lord you never +leaned to tricks of most pretty lasses, makin' eyes at all the men. +Anyway, a matter of three months ago I told Wils to keep away from +you--thet you were not fer any poor cowpuncher."</p> +<p>"You never liked him. Why? Was it fair, taking him as boys +come?"</p> +<p>"Wal, I reckon it wasn't," replied Belllounds, and as he looked +up his broad face changed to ruddy color. "Thet boy's the best +rider an' roper I've had in years. He ain't the bronco-bustin' +kind. He never drank. He was honest an' willin'. He saves his +money. He's good at handlin' stock. Thet boy will be a rich rancher +some day."</p> +<p>"Strange, then, you never liked him," murmured Columbine. She +felt ashamed of the good it did her to hear Wilson praised.</p> +<p>"No, it ain't strange. I have my own reasons," replied +Belllounds, gruffly, as he resumed eating.</p> +<p>Columbine believed she could guess the cause of the old +rancher's unreasonable antipathy for this cowboy. Not improbably it +was because Wilson had always been superior in every way to Jack +Belllounds. The boys had been natural rivals in everything +pertaining to life on the range. What Bill Belllounds admired most +in men was paramount in Wilson and lacking in his own son.</p> +<p>"Will you put Jack in charge of your ranches, now?" asked +Columbine.</p> +<p>"Not much. I reckon I'll try him hyar at White Slides as +foreman. An' if he runs the outfit, then I'll see."</p> +<p>"Dad, he'll never run the White Slides outfit," asserted +Columbine.</p> +<p>"Wal, it is a hard bunch, I'll agree. But I reckon the boys will +stay, exceptin', mebbe, Wils. An' it'll be jest as well fer him to +leave."</p> +<p>"It's not good business to send away your best cowboy. I've +heard you complain lately of lack of men."</p> +<p>"I sure do need men," replied Belllounds, seriously. "Stock +gettin' more 'n we can handle. I sent word over the range to +Meeker, hopin' to get some men there. What I need most jest now is +a fellar who knows dogs an' who'll hunt down the wolves an' lions +an' bears thet're livin' off my cattle."</p> +<p>"Dad, you need a whole outfit to handle the packs of hounds +you've got. Such an assortment of them! There must be a hundred. +Only yesterday some man brought a lot of mangy, long-eared canines. +It's funny. Why, dad, you're the laughing-stock of the range!'</p> +<p>"Yes, an' the range'll be thankin' me when I rid it of all these +varmints," declared Belllounds. "Lass, I swore I'd buy every dog +fetched to me, until I had enough to kill off the coyotes an' +lofers an' lions. I'll do it, too. But I need a hunter."</p> +<p>"Why not put Wilson Moore in charge of the hounds? He's a +hunter."</p> +<p>"Wal, lass, thet might be a good idee," replied the rancher, +nodding his grizzled head. "Say, you're sort of wantin' me to keep +Wils on."</p> +<p>"Yes, dad."</p> +<p>"Why? Do you like him so much?"</p> +<p>"I like him--of course. He has been almost a brother to me."</p> +<p>"Ahuh! Wal, are you sure you don't like him more 'n you +ought--considerin' what's in the wind?"</p> +<p>"Yes, I'm sure I don't," replied Columbine, with tingling +cheeks.</p> +<p>"Wal, I'm glad of thet. Reckon it'll be no great matter whether +Wils stays or leaves. If he wants to I'll give him a job with the +hounds."</p> +<p>That evening Columbine went to her room early. It was a cozy +little blanketed nest which she had arranged and furnished herself. +There was a little square window cut through the logs and through +which many a night the snow had blown in upon her bed. She loved +her little isolated refuge. This night it was cold, the first time +this autumn, and the lighted lamp, though brightening the room, did +not make it appreciably warmer. There was a stone fireplace, but as +she had neglected to bring in wood she could not start a fire. So +she undressed, blew out the lamp, and went to bed. Columbine was +soon warm, and the darkness of her little room seemed good to her. +Sleep she felt never would come that night. She wanted to think; +she could not help but think; and she tried to halt the whirl of +her mind. Wilson Moore occupied the foremost place in her varying +thoughts--a fact quite remarkable and unaccountable. She tried to +change it. In vain! Wilson persisted--on his white mustang flying +across the ridge-top--coming to her as never before--with his anger +and disapproval--his strange, poignant cry, "Columbine!" that +haunted her--with his bitter smile and his resignation and his +mocking talk of jealousy. He persisted and grew with the old +rancher's frank praise.</p> +<p>"I must not think of him," she whispered. "Why, I'll be--be +married soon.... Married!"</p> +<p>That word transformed her thought, and where she had thrilled +she now felt cold. She revolved the fact in mind.</p> +<p>"It's true, I'll be married, because I ought--I must," she said, +half aloud. "Because I can't help myself. I ought to want to--for +dad's sake.... But I don't--I don't."</p> +<p>She longed above all things to be good, loyal, loving, helpful, +to show her gratitude for the home and the affection that had been +bestowed upon a nameless waif. Bill Belllounds had not been under +any obligation to succor a strange, lost child. He had done it +because he was big, noble. Many splendid deeds had been laid at the +old rancher's door. She was not of an ungrateful nature. She meant +to pay. But the significance of the price began to dawn upon +her.</p> +<p>"It will change my whole life," she whispered, aghast.</p> +<p>But how? Columbine pondered. She must go over the details of +that change. No mother had ever taught her. The few women that had +been in the Belllounds home from time to time had not been +sympathetic or had not stayed long enough to help her much. Even +her school life in Denver had left her still a child as regarded +the serious problems of women.</p> +<p>"If I'm his wife," she went on, "I'll have to be with him--I'll +have to give up this little room--I'll never be free--alone--happy, +any more."</p> +<p>That was the first detail she enumerated. It was also the last. +Realization came with a sickening little shudder. And that moment +gave birth to the nucleus of an unconscious revolt.</p> +<p>The coyotes were howling. Wild, sharp, sweet notes! They soothed +her troubled, aching head, lulled her toward sleep, reminded her of +the gold-and-purple sunset, and the slopes of sage, the lonely +heights, and the beauty that would never change. On the morrow, she +drowsily thought, she would persuade Wilson not to kill all the +coyotes; to leave a few, because she loved them.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>Bill Belllounds had settled in Middle Park in 1860. It was wild +country, a home of the Ute Indians, and a natural paradise for elk, +deer, antelope, buffalo. The mountain ranges harbored bear. These +ranges sheltered the rolling valley land which some explorer had +named Middle Park in earlier days.</p> +<p>Much of this inclosed table-land was prairie, where long grass +and wild flowers grew luxuriantly. Belllounds was a cattleman, and +he saw the possibilities there. To which end he sought the +friendship of Piah, chief of the Utes. This noble red man was well +disposed toward the white settlers, and his tribe, during those +troublous times, kept peace with these invaders of their mountain +home.</p> +<p>In 1868 Belllounds was instrumental in persuading the Utes to +relinquish Middle Park. The slopes of the hills were heavily +timbered; gold and silver had been found in the mountains. It was a +country that attracted prospectors, cattlemen, lumbermen. The +summer season was not long enough to grow grain, and the nights too +frosty for corn; otherwise Middle Park would have increased rapidly +in population.</p> +<p>In the years that succeeded the departure of the Utes Bill +Belllounds developed several cattle-ranches and acquired others. +White Slides Ranch lay some twenty-odd miles from Middle Park, +being a winding arm of the main valley land. Its development was a +matter of later years, and Belllounds lived there because the +country was wilder. The rancher, as he advanced in years, seemed to +want to keep the loneliness that had been his in earlier days. At +the time of the return of his son to White Slides Belllounds was +rich in cattle and land, but he avowed frankly that he had not +saved any money, and probably never would. His hand was always open +to every man and he never remembered an obligation. He trusted +every one. A proud boast of his was that neither white man nor red +man had ever betrayed his trust. His cowboys took advantage of him, +his neighbors imposed upon him, but none were there who did not +make good their debts of service or stock. Belllounds was one of +the great pioneers of the frontier days to whom the West owed its +settlement; and he was finer than most, because he proved that the +Indians, if not robbed or driven, would respond to +friendliness.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>Belllounds was not seen at his customary tasks on the day he +expected his son. He walked in the fields and around the corrals; +he often paced up and down the porch, scanning the horizon below, +where the road from Kremmling showed white down the valley; and +part of the time he stayed indoors.</p> +<p>It so happened that early in the afternoon he came out in time +to see a buckboard, drawn by dust-and-lather-stained horses, pull +into the yard. And then he saw his son. Some of the cowboys came +running. There were greetings to the driver, who appeared well +known to them.</p> +<p>Jack Belllounds did not look at them. He threw a bag out of the +buckboard and then clambered down slowly, to go toward the +porch.</p> +<p>"Wal, Jack--my son--I'm sure glad you're back home," said the +old rancher, striding forward. His voice was deep and full, +singularly rich. But that was the only sign of feeling he +showed.</p> +<p>"Howdy--dad!" replied the son, not heartily, as he put out his +hand to his father's.</p> +<p>Jack Belllounds's form was tall, with a promise of his father's +bulk. But he did not walk erect; he slouched a little. His face was +pale, showing he had not of late been used to sun and wind. Any +stranger would have seen the resemblance of boy to man would have +granted the handsome boldness, but denied the strength. The lower +part of Jack Belllounds's face was weak.</p> +<p>The constraint of this meeting was manifest mostly in the manner +of the son. He looked ashamed, almost sullen. But if he had been +under the influence of liquor at Kremmling, as reported the day +before, he had entirely recovered.</p> +<p>"Come on in," said the rancher.</p> +<p>When they got into the big living-room, and Belllounds had +closed the doors, the son threw down his baggage and faced his +father aggressively.</p> +<p>"Do they all know where I've been?" he asked, bitterly. Broken +pride and shame flamed in his face.</p> +<p>"Nobody knows. The secret's been kept." replied Belllounds.</p> +<p>Amaze and relief transformed the young man. "Aw, now, +I'm--glad--" he exclaimed, and he sat down, half covering his face +with shaking hands.</p> +<p>"Jack, we'll start over," said Belllounds, earnestly, and his +big eyes shone with a warm and beautiful light. "Right hyar. We'll +never speak of where you've been these three years. Never +again!"</p> +<p>Jack gazed up, then, with all the sullenness and shadow +gone.</p> +<p>"Father, you were wrong about--doing me good. It's done me harm. +But now, if nobody knows--why, I'll try to forget it."</p> +<p>"Mebbe I blundered," replied Belllounds, pathetically. "Yet, God +knows I meant well. You sure were--But thet's enough palaver.... +You'll go to work as foreman of White Slides. An' if you make a +success of it I'll be only too glad to have you boss the ranch. I'm +gettin' along in years, son. An' the last year has made me poorer. +Hyar's a fine range, but I've less stock this year than last. +There's been some rustlin' of cattle, an a big loss from wolves an' +lions an' poison-weed.... What d'you say, son?"</p> +<p>"I'll run White Slides," replied Jack, with a wave of his hand. +"I hadn't hoped for such a chance. But it's due me. Who's in the +outfit I know?"</p> +<p>"Reckon no one, except Wils Moore."</p> +<p>"Is that cowboy here yet? I don't want him."</p> +<p>"Wal, I'll put him to chasin' varmints with the hounds. An' say, +son, this outfit is bad. You savvy--it's bad. You can't run that +bunch. The only way you can handle them is to get up early an' come +back late. Sayin' little, but sawin' wood. Hard work."</p> +<p>Jack Belllounds did not evince any sign of assimilating the +seriousness of his father's words.</p> +<p>"I'll show them," he said. "They'll find out who's boss. Oh, I'm +aching to get into boots and ride and tear around."</p> +<p>Belllounds stroked his grizzled beard and regarded his son with +mingled pride and doubt. Not at this moment, most assuredly, could +he get away from the wonderful fact that his only son was home.</p> +<p>"Thet's all right, son. But you've been off the range fer three +years. You'll need advice. Now listen. Be gentle with hosses. You +used to be mean with a hoss. Some cowboys jam their hosses around +an' make 'em pitch an' bite. But it ain't the best way. A hoss has +got sense. I've some fine stock, an' don't want it spoiled. An' be +easy an' quiet with the boys. It's hard to get help these days. I'm +short on hands now.... You'd do best, son, to stick to your dad's +ways with hosses an' men."</p> +<p>"Dad, I've seen you kick horses an' shoot at men" replied +Jack.</p> +<p>"Right, you have. But them was particular bad cases. I'm not +advisin' thet way.... Son, it's close to my heart--this hope I have +thet you'll--"</p> +<p>The full voice quavered and broke. It would indeed have been a +hardened youth who could not have felt something of the deep and +unutterable affection in the old man. Jack Belllounds put an arm +around his father's shoulder.</p> +<p>"Dad, I'll make you proud of me yet. Give me a chance. And don't +be sore if I can't do wonders right at first."</p> +<p>"Son, you shall have every chance. An' thet reminds me. Do you +remember Columbine?"</p> +<p>"I should say so," replied Jack, eagerly. "They spoke of her in +Kremmling. Where is she?"</p> +<p>"I reckon somewheres about. Jack, you an' Columbine are to +marry."</p> +<p>"Marry! Columbine and me?" he ejaculated.</p> +<p>"Yes. You're my son an' she's my adopted daughter. I won't split +my property. An' it's right she had a share. A fine, strong, quiet, +pretty lass, Jack, an' she'll make a good wife. I've set my heart +on the idee."</p> +<p>"But Columbine always hated me."</p> +<p>"Wal, she was a kid then an' you teased her. Now she's a woman, +an' willin' to please me. Jack, you'll not buck ag'in' this +deal?"</p> +<p>"That depends," replied Jack. "I'd marry `most any girl you +wanted me to. But if Columbine were to flout me as she used +to--why, I'd buck sure enough.... Dad, are you sure she knows +nothing, suspects nothing of where you--you sent me?"</p> +<p>"Son, I swear she doesn't."</p> +<p>"Do you mean you'd want us to marry soon?"</p> +<p>"Wal, yes, as soon as Collie would think reasonable. Jack, she's +shy an' strange, an' deep, too. If you ever win her heart you'll be +richer than if you owned all the gold in the Rockies. I'd say go +slow. But contrariwise, it'd mebbe be surer to steady you, keep you +home, if you married right off."</p> +<p>"Married right off!" echoed Jack, with a laugh. "It's like a +story. But wait till I see her."</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>At that very moment Columbine was sitting on the topmost log of +a high corral, deeply interested in the scene before her.</p> +<p>Two cowboys were in the corral with a saddled mustang. One of +them carried a canvas sack containing tools and horseshoes. As he +dropped it with a metallic clink the mustang snorted and jumped and +rolled the whites of his eyes. He knew what that clink meant.</p> +<p>"Miss Collie, air you-all goin' to sit up thar?" inquired the +taller cowboy, a lean, supple, and powerful fellow, with a rough, +red-blue face, hard as a rock, and steady, bright eyes.</p> +<p>"I sure am, Jim," she replied, imperturbably.</p> +<p>"But we've gotta hawg-tie him," protested the cowboy.</p> +<p>"Yes, I know. And you're going to be gentle about it."</p> +<p>Jim scratched his sandy head and looked at his comrade, a little +gnarled fellow, like the bleached root of a tree. He seemed all +legs.</p> +<p>"You hear, you Wyomin' galoot," he said to Jim. "Them shoes goes +on Whang right gentle."</p> +<p>Jim grinned, and turned to speak to his mustang. "Whang, the +law's laid down an' we wanta see how much hoss sense you hev."</p> +<p>The shaggy mustang did not appear to be favorably impressed by +this speech. It was a mighty distrustful look he bent upon the +speaker.</p> +<p>"Jim, seein' as how this here job's aboot the last Miss Collie +will ever boss us on, we gotta do it without Whang turnin' a hair," +drawled the other cowboy.</p> +<p>"Lem, why is this the last job I'll ever boss you boys?" +demanded Columbine, quickly.</p> +<p>Jim gazed quizzically at her, and Lem assumed that blank, +innocent face Columbine always associated with cowboy deviltry.</p> +<p>"Wal, Miss Collie, we reckon the new boss of White Slides rode +in to-day."</p> +<p>"You mean Jack Belllounds came home," said Columbine. "Well, +I'll boss you boys the same as always."</p> +<p>"Thet'd be mighty fine for us, but I'm feared it ain't writ in +the fatal history of White Slides," replied Jim.</p> +<p>"Buster Jack will run over the ole man an' marry you," added +Lem.</p> +<p>"Oh, so that's your idea," rejoined Columbine, lightly. "Well, +if such a thing did come to pass I'd be your boss more than +ever."</p> +<p>"I reckon no, Miss Collie, for we'll not be ridin' fer White +Sides," said Jim, simply.</p> +<p>Columbine had sensed this very significance long before when the +possibility of Buster Jack's return had been rumored. She knew +cowboys. As well try to change the rocks of the hills!</p> +<p>"Boys, the day you leave White Slides will be a sad one for me," +sighed Columbine.</p> +<p>"Miss Collie, we 'ain't gone yet," put in Lem, with awkward +softness. "Jim has long hankered fer Wyomin' an' he jest talks thet +way."</p> +<p>Then the cowboys turned to the business in hand. Jim removed the +saddle, but left the bridle on. This move, of course, deceived +Whang. He had been broken to stand while his bridle hung, and, like +a horse that would have been good if given a chance, he obeyed as +best he could, shaking in every limb. Jim, apparently to hobble +Whang, roped his forelegs together, low down, but suddenly slipped +the rope over the knees. Then Whang knew he had been deceived. He +snorted fire, let out a scream, and, rearing on his hind legs, he +pawed the air savagely. Jim hauled on the rope while Whang screamed +and fought with his forefeet high in the air. Then Jim, with a +powerful jerk, pulled Whang down and threw him, while Lem, seizing +the bridle, hauled him over on his side and sat upon his head. +Whereupon Jim slipped the loop off one front hoof and pulled the +other leg back across one of the hind ones, where both were secured +by a quick hitch. Then the lasso was wound and looped around front +and back hoofs together. When this had been done the mustang was +rolled over on his other side, his free front hoof lassoed and +pulled back to the hind one, where both were secured, as had been +the others. This rendered the mustang powerless, and the shoeing +proceeded.</p> +<p>Columbine hated to sit by and watch it, but she always stuck to +her post, when opportunity afforded, because she knew the cowboys +would not be brutal while she was there.</p> +<p>"Wal, he'll step high to-morrer," said Lem, as he got up from +his seat on the head of Whang.</p> +<p>"Ahuh! An', like a mule, he'll be my friend fer twenty years +jest to get a chance to kick me." replied Jim.</p> +<p>For Columbine, the most interesting moment of this incident was +when the mustang raised his head to look at his legs, in order to +see what had been done to them. There was something almost human in +that look. It expressed intelligence and fear and fury.</p> +<p>The cowboys released his legs and let him get up. Whang stamped +his iron-shod hoofs.</p> +<p>"It was a mean trick, Whang," said Columbine. "If I owned you +that'd never be done to you."</p> +<p>"I reckon you can have him fer the askin'," said Jim, as he +threw on the saddle. "Nobody but me can ride him. Do you want to +try?"</p> +<p>"Not in these clothes," replied Columbine, laughing.</p> +<p>"Wal, Miss Collie, you're shore dressed up fine to-day, fer some +reason or other," said Lem, shaking his head, while he gathered up +the tools from the ground.</p> +<p>"Ahuh! An' here comes the reason," exclaimed Jim, in low, hoarse +whisper.</p> +<p>Columbine heard the whisper and at the same instant a sharp +footfall on the gravel road. She quickly turned, almost losing her +balance. And she recognized Jack Belllounds. The boy Buster Jack +she remembered so well was approaching, now a young man, taller, +heavier, older, with paler face and bolder look. Columbine had +feared this meeting, had prepared herself for it. But all she felt +when it came was annoyance at the fact that he had caught her +sitting on top of the corral fence, with little regard for dignity. +It did not occur to her to jump down. She merely sat straight, +smoothed down her skirt, and waited.</p> +<p>Jim led the mustang out of the corral and Lem followed. It +looked as if they wanted to avoid the young man, but he prevented +that.</p> +<p>"Howdy, boys! I'm Jack Belllounds," he said, rather loftily. But +his manner was nonchalant. He did not offer to shake hands.</p> +<p>Jim mumbled something, and Lem said, "Hod do."</p> +<p>"That's an ornery--looking bronc," went on Belllounds, and he +reached with careless hand for the mustang. Whang jerked so hard +that he pulled Jim half over.</p> +<p>"Wal, he ain't a bronc, but I reckon he's all the rest." drawled +Jim.</p> +<p>Both cowboys seemed slow, careless. They were neither +indifferent nor responsive. Columbine saw their keen, steady +glances go over Belllounds. Then she took a second and less hasty +look at him. He wore high-heeled, fancy-topped boots, tight-fitting +trousers of dark material, a heavy belt with silver buckle, and a +white, soft shirt, with wide collar, open at the neck. He was +bareheaded.</p> +<p>"I'm going to run White Slides," he said to the cowboys. +"What're your names?"</p> +<p>Columbine wanted to giggle, which impulse she smothered. The +idea of any one asking Jim his name! She had never been able to +find out.</p> +<p>"My handle is Lemuel Archibawld Billings," replied Lem, blandly. +The middle name was an addition no one had ever heard.</p> +<p>Belllounds then directed his glance and steps toward the girl. +The cowboys dropped their heads and shuffled on their way.</p> +<p>"There's only one girl on the ranch," said Belllounds, "so you +must be Columbine."</p> +<p>"Yes. And you're Jack," she replied, and slipped off the fence. +"I'm glad to welcome you home."</p> +<p>She offered her hand, and he held it until she extricated it. +There was genuine surprise and pleasure in his expression.</p> +<p>"Well, I'd never have known you," he said, surveying her from +head to foot. "It's funny. I had the clearest picture of you in +mind. But you're not at all like I imagined. The Columbine I +remember was thin, white-faced, and all eyes."</p> +<p>"It's been a long time. Seven years," she replied. "But I knew +you. You're older, taller, bigger, but the same Buster Jack."</p> +<p>"I hope not," he said, frankly condemning that former self. "Dad +needs me. He wants me to take charge here--to be a man. I'm back +now. It's good to be home. I never was worth much. Lord! I hope I +don't disappoint him again."</p> +<p>"I hope so, too," she murmured. To hear him talk frankly, +seriously, like this counteracted the unfavorable impression she +had received. He seemed earnest. He looked down at the ground, +where he was pushing little pebbles with the toe of his boot. She +had a good opportunity to study his face, and availed herself of +it. He did look like his father, with his big, handsome head, and +his blue eyes, bolder perhaps from their prominence than from any +direct gaze or fire. His face was pale, and shadowed by worry or +discontent. It seemed as though a repressed character showed there. +His mouth and chin were undisciplined. Columbine could not imagine +that she despised anything she saw in the features of this young +man. Yet there was something about him that held her aloof. She had +made up her mind to do her part unselfishly. She would find the +best in him, like him for it, be strong to endure and to help. Yet +she had no power to control her vague and strange perceptions. Why +was it that she could not feel in him what she liked in Jim Montana +or Lem or Wilson Moore?</p> +<p>"This was my second long stay away from home," said Belllounds. +"The first was when I went to school in Kansas City. I liked that. +I was sorry when they turned me out--sent me home.... But the last +three years were hell."</p> +<p>His face worked, and a shade of dark blood rippled over it.</p> +<p>"Did you work?" queried Columbine.</p> +<p>"Work! It was worse than work.... Sure I worked," he +replied.</p> +<p>Columbine's sharp glance sought his hands. They looked as soft +and unscarred as her own. What kind of work had he done, if he told +the truth?</p> +<p>"Well, if you work hard for dad, learn to handle the cowboys, +and never take up those old bad habits--"</p> +<p>"You mean drink and cards? I swear I'd forgotten them for three +years--until yesterday. I reckon I've the better of them."</p> +<p>"Then you'll make dad and me happy. You'll be happy, too."</p> +<p>Columbine thrilled at the touch of fineness coming out in him. +There was good in him, whatever the mad, wild pranks of his +boyhood.</p> +<p>"Dad wants us to marry," he said, suddenly, with shyness and a +strange, amused smile. "Isn't that funny? You and me--who used to +fight like cat and dog! Do you remember the time I pushed you into +the old mud-hole? And you lay in wait for me, behind the house, to +hit me with a rotten cabbage?"</p> +<p>"Yes, I remember," replied Columbine, dreamily. "It seems so +long ago."</p> +<p>"And the time you ate my pie, and how I got even by tearing off +your little dress, so you had to run home almost without a stitch +on?"</p> +<p>"Guess I've forgotten that," replied Columbine, with a blush. "I +must have been very little then."</p> +<p>"You were a little devil.... Do you remember the fight I had +with Moore--about you?"</p> +<p>She did not answer, for she disliked the fleeting expression +that crossed his face. He remembered too well.</p> +<p>"I'll settle that score with Moore," he went on. "Besides, I +won't have him on the ranch."</p> +<p>"Dad needs good hands," she said, with her eyes on the gray sage +slopes. Mention of Wilson Moore augmented the aloofness in her. An +annoyance pricked along her veins.</p> +<p>"Before we get any farther I'd like to know something. Has Moore +ever made love to you?"</p> +<p>Columbine felt that prickling augment to a hot, sharp wave of +blood. Why was she at the mercy of strange, quick, unfamiliar +sensations? Why did she hesitate over that natural query from Jack +Belllounds?</p> +<p>"No. He never has," she replied, presently.</p> +<p>"That's damn queer. You used to like him better than anybody +else. You sure hated me.... Columbine, have you outgrown that?"</p> +<p>"Yes, of course," she answered. "But I hardly hated you."</p> +<p>"Dad said you were willing to marry me. Is that so?"</p> +<p>Columbine dropped her head. His question, kindly put, did not +affront her, for it had been expected. But his actual presence, the +meaning of his words, stirred in her an unutterable spirit of +protest. She had already in her will consented to the demand of the +old man; she was learning now, however, that she could not force +her flesh to consent to a surrender it did not desire.</p> +<p>"Yes, I'm willing," she replied, bravely.</p> +<p>"Soon?" he flashed, with an eager difference in his voice.</p> +<p>"If I had my way it'd not be--too soon," she faltered. Her +downcast eyes had seen the stride he had made closer to her, and +she wanted to run.</p> +<p>"Why? Dad thinks it'd be good for me," went on Belllounds, now, +with strong, self-centered thought. "It'd give me responsibility. I +reckon I need it. Why not soon?"</p> +<p>"Wouldn't it be better to wait awhile?" she asked. "We do not +know each other--let alone care--"</p> +<p>"Columbine, I've fallen in love with you." he declared, +hotly.</p> +<p>"Oh, how could you!" cried Columbine, incredulously.</p> +<p>"Why, I always was moony over you--when we were kids," he said. +"And now to meet you grown up like this--so pretty and sweet--such +a--a healthy, blooming girl.... And dad's word that you'd be my +wife soon--<i>mine</i>--why, I just went off my head at sight of +you."</p> +<p>Columbine looked up at him and was reminded of how, as a boy, he +had always taken a quick, passionate longing for things he must and +would have. And his father had not denied him. It might really be +that Jack had suddenly fallen in love with her.</p> +<p>"Would you want to take me without my--my love?" she asked, very +low. "I don't love you now. I might some time, if you were good--if +you made dad happy--if you conquered--"</p> +<p>"Take you! I'd take you if you--if you hated me," he replied, +now in the grip of passion.</p> +<p>"I'll tell dad how I feel," she said, faintly, "and--and marry +you when he says."</p> +<p>He kissed her, would have embraced her had she not put him +back.</p> +<p>"Don't! Some--some one will see."</p> +<p>"Columbine, we're engaged," he asserted, with a laugh of +possession. "Say, you needn't look so white and scared. I won't eat +you. But I'd like to.... Oh, you're a sweet girl! Here I was hating +to come home. And look at my luck!"</p> +<p>Then with a sudden change, that seemed significant of his +character, he lost his ardor, dropped the half-bold, half-masterful +air, and showed the softer side.</p> +<p>"Collie, I never was any good," he said. "But I want to be +better. I'll prove it. I'll make a clean breast of everything. I +won't marry you with any secret between us. You might find out +afterward and hate me.... Do you have any idea where I've been +these last three years?"</p> +<p>"No," answered Columbine.</p> +<p>"I'll tell you right now. But you must promise never to mention +it to any one--or throw it up to me--ever."</p> +<p>He spoke hoarsely, and had grown quite white. Suddenly Columbine +thought of Wilson Moore! He had known where Jack had spent those +years. He had resisted a strong temptation to tell her. That was as +noble in him as the implication of Jack's whereabouts had been +base.</p> +<p>"Jack, that is big of you," she replied, hurriedly. "I respect +you--like you for it. But you needn't tell me. I'd rather you +didn't. I'll take the will for the deed."</p> +<p>Belllounds evidently experienced a poignant shock of amaze, of +relief, of wonder, of gratitude. In an instant he seemed +transformed.</p> +<p>"Collie, if I hadn't loved you before I'd love you now. That was +going to be the hardest job I ever had--to tell you my--my story. I +meant it. And now I'll not have to feel your shame for me and I'll +not feel I'm a cheat or a liar.... But I will tell you this--if you +love me you'll make a man of me!"</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III</h2> +<br> +<p>The rancher thought it best to wait till after the round-up +before he turned over the foremanship to his son. This was wise, +but Jack did not see it that way. He showed that his old, +intolerant spirit had, if anything, grown during his absence. +Belllounds patiently argued with him, explaining what certainly +should have been clear to a young man brought up in Colorado. The +fall round-up was the most important time of the year, and during +the strenuous drive the appointed foreman should have absolute +control. Jack gave in finally with a bad grace.</p> +<p>It was unfortunate that he went directly from his father's +presence out to the corrals. Some of the cowboys who had ridden all +the day before and stood guard all night had just come in. They +were begrimed with dust, weary, and sleepy-eyed.</p> +<p>"This hyar outfit won't see my tracks no more," said one, +disgustedly. "I never kicked on doin' two men's work. But when it +comes to rustlin' day and night, all the time, I'm a-goin' to +pass."</p> +<p>"Turn in, boys, and sleep till we get back with the +chuck-wagon," said Wilson Moore. "We'll clean up that bunch +to-day."</p> +<p>"Ain't you tired, Wils?" queried Bludsoe, a squat, bow-legged +cowpuncher who appeared to be crippled or very lame.</p> +<p>"Me? Naw!" grunted Moore, derisively. "Blud, you sure ask fool +questions.... Why, you--mahogany-colored, stump-legged, biped of a +cowpuncher, I've had three hours' sleep in four nights!"</p> +<p>"What's a biped?" asked Bludsoe, dubiously.</p> +<p>Nobody enlightened him.</p> +<p>"Wils, you-all air the only eddicated cowman I ever loved, but +I'm a son-of-a-gun if we ain't agoin' to come to blows some day," +declared Bludsoe.</p> +<p>"He shore can sling English," drawled Lem Billings. "I reckon he +swallowed a dictionary onct."</p> +<p>"Wal, he can sling a rope, too, an' thet evens up," added Jim +Montana.</p> +<p>Just at this moment Jack Belllounds appeared upon the scene. The +cowboys took no notice of him. Jim was bandaging a leg of his +horse; Bludsoe was wearily gathering up his saddle and trappings; +Lem was giving his tired mustang a parting slap that meant much. +Moore evidently awaited a fresh mount. A Mexican lad had come in +out of the pasture leading several horses, one of which was the +mottled white mustang that Moore rode most of the time.</p> +<p>Belllounds lounged forward with interest as Moore whistled, and +the mustang showed his pleasure. Manifestly he did not like the +Mexican boy and he did like Moore.</p> +<p>"Spottie, it's drag yearlings around for you to-day," said the +cowboy, as he caught the mustang. Spottie tossed his head and +stepped high until the bridle was on. When the saddle was thrown +and strapped in place the mustang showed to advantage. He was +beautiful, but not too graceful or sleek or fine-pointed or +prancing to prejudice any cowboy against his qualities for +work.</p> +<p>Jack Belllounds admiringly walked all around the mustang a +little too close to please Spottie.</p> +<p>"Moore, he's a fair-to-middling horse," said Belllounds, with +the air of judge of horseflesh. "What's his name?"</p> +<p>"Spottie," replied Moore, shortly, as he made ready to +mount.</p> +<p>"Hold on, will you!" ordered Jack, peremptorily. "I like this +horse. I want to look him over."</p> +<p>When he grasped the bridle-reins out of the cowboy's hand +Spottie jumped as if he had been shot at. Belllounds jerked at him +and went closer. The mustang reared, snorting, plunging to get +loose. Then Jack Belllounds showed the sudden temper for which he +was noted. Red stained his pale cheeks.</p> +<p>"Damn you--come down!" he shouted, infuriated at the mustang, +and with both hands he gave a powerful lunge. Spottie came down, +and stood there, trembling all over, his ears laid back, his eyes +showing fright and pain. Blood dripped from his mouth where the bit +had cut him.</p> +<p>"I'll teach you to stand," said Belllounds, darkly. "Moore, lend +me your spurs. I want to try him out."</p> +<p>"I don't lend my spurs--or my horse, either," replied the +cowboy, quietly, with a stride that put him within reach of +Spottie.</p> +<p>The other cowboys had dropped their trappings and stood at +attention, with intent gaze and mute lips.</p> +<p>"Is he your horse?" demanded Jack, with a quick flush.</p> +<p>"I reckon so," replied Moore, slowly. "No one but me ever rode +him."</p> +<p>"Does my father own him or do you own him?"</p> +<p>"Well, if that's the way you figure--he belongs to White +Slides," returned the cowboy. "I never bought him. I only raised +him from a colt, broke him, and rode him."</p> +<p>"I thought so. Moore, he's mine, and I'm going to ride him now. +Lend me spurs, one of you cowpunchers."</p> +<p>Nobody made any motion to comply. There seemed to be a suspense +at hand that escaped Belllounds.</p> +<p>"I'll ride him without spurs," he declared, presently, and again +he turned to mount the mustang.</p> +<p>"Belllounds, it'd be better for you not to ride him now," said +Moore, coolly.</p> +<p>"Why, I'd like to know?" demanded Belllounds, with the temper of +one who did not tolerate opposition.</p> +<p>"He's the only horse left for me to ride," answered the cowboy. +"We're branding to-day. Hudson was hurt yesterday. He was foreman, +and he appointed me to fill his place. I've got to rope yearlings. +Now, if you get up on Spottie you'll excite him. He's high-strung, +nervous. That'll be bad for him, as he hates cutting-out and +roping."</p> +<p>The reasonableness of this argument was lost upon +Belllounds.</p> +<p>"Moore, maybe it'd interest you to know that I'm foreman of +White Slides," he asserted, not without loftiness.</p> +<p>His speech manifestly decided something vital for the +cowboy.</p> +<p>"Ahuh!... I'm sure interested this minute," replied Moore, and +then, stepping to the side of the mustang, with swift hands he +unbuckled the cinch, and with one sweep he drew saddle and blanket +to the ground.</p> +<p>The action surprised Belllounds. He stared. There seemed +something boyish in his lack of comprehension. Then his temper +flamed.</p> +<p>"What do you mean by that?" he demanded, with a strident note in +his voice. "Put that saddle back."</p> +<p>"Not much. It's my saddle. Cost sixty dollars at Kremmling last +year. Good old hard-earned saddle!... And you can't ride it. +Savvy?"</p> +<p>"Yes, I savvy," replied Belllounds, violently. "Now you'll savvy +what I say. I'll have you discharged."</p> +<p>"Nope. Too late," said Moore, with cool, easy scorn. "I figured +that. And I quit a minute ago--when you showed what little regard +you had for a horse."</p> +<p>"You quit!... Well, it's damned good riddance. I wouldn't have +you in the outfit."</p> +<p>"You couldn't have kept me, Buster Jack."</p> +<p>The epithet must have been an insult to Belllounds. "Don't you +dare call me that," he burst out, furiously.</p> +<p>Moore pretended surprise. "Why not? It's your range name. We all +get a handle, whether we like it or not. There's Montana and Blud +and Lemme Two Bits. They call me Professor. Why should you kick on +yours?"</p> +<p>"I won't stand it now. Not from any one--especially not +you."</p> +<p>"Ahuh! Well, I'm afraid it'll stick," replied Moore, with +sarcasm. "It sure suits you. Don't you bust everything you monkey +with? Your old dad will sure be glad to see you bust the round-up +to-day--and I reckon the outfit to-morrow."</p> +<p>"You insolent cowpuncher!" shouted Belllounds, growing beside +himself with rage. "If you don't shut up I'll bust your face."</p> +<p>"Shut up!... Me? Nope. It can't be did. This is a free country, +Buster Jack." There was no denying Moore's cool, stinging +repetition of the epithet that had so affronted Belllounds.</p> +<p>"I always hated you!" he rasped out, hoarsely. Striking hard at +Moore, he missed, but a second effort landed a glancing blow on the +cowboy's face.</p> +<p>Moore staggered back, recovered his balance, and, hitting out +shortly, he returned the blow. Belllounds fell against the corral +fence, which upheld him.</p> +<p>"Buster Jack--you're crazy!" cried the cowboy, his eyes +flashing. "Do you think you can lick me--after where you've been +these three years?"</p> +<p>Like a maddened boy Belllounds leaped forward, this time his +increased violence and wildness of face expressive of malignant +rage. He swung his arms at random. Moore avoided his blows and +planted a fist squarely on his adversary's snarling mouth. +Belllounds fell with a thump. He got up with clumsy haste, but did +not rush forward again. His big, prominent eyes held a dark and +ugly look. His lower jaw wabbled as he panted for breath and speech +at once.</p> +<p>"Moore--I'll kill--you!" he hissed, with glance flying +everywhere for a weapon. From ground to cowboys he looked. Bludsoe +was the only one packing a gun. Belllounds saw it, and he was so +swift in bounding forward that he got a hand on it before Bludsoe +could prevent.</p> +<p>"Let go! Give me--that gun! By God! I'll fix him!" yelled +Belllounds, as Bludsoe grappled with him.</p> +<p>There was a sharp struggle. Bludsoe wrenched the other's hands +free, and, pulling the gun, he essayed to throw it. But Belllounds +blocked his action and the gun fell at their feet.</p> +<p>"Grab it!" sang out Bludsoe, ringingly. "Quick, somebody! The +damned fool'll kill Wils."</p> +<p>Lem, running in, kicked the gun just as Belllounds reached for +it. When it rolled against the fence Jim was there to secure it. +Lem likewise grappled with the struggling Belllounds.</p> +<p>"Hyar, you Jack Belllounds," said Lem, "couldn't you see Wils +wasn't packin' no gun? A-r'arin' like thet!... Stop your rantin' or +we'll sure handle you rough."</p> +<p>"The old man's comin'," called Jim, warningly.</p> +<p>The rancher appeared. He strode swiftly, ponderously. His gray +hair waved. His look was as stern as that of an eagle.</p> +<p>"What the hell's goin' on?" he roared.</p> +<p>The cowboys released Jack. That worthy, sullen and downcast, +muttering to himself, stalked for the house.</p> +<p>"Jack, stand your ground," called old Belllounds.</p> +<p>But the son gave no heed. Once he looked back over his shoulder, +and his dark glance saw no one save Moore.</p> +<p>"Boss, thar's been a little argyment," explained Jim, as with +swift hand he hid Bludsoe's gun. "Nuthin' much."</p> +<p>"Jim, you're a liar," replied the old rancher.</p> +<p>"Aw!" exclaimed Jim, crestfallen.</p> +<p>"What're you hidin'?... You've got somethin' there. Gimme thet +gun."</p> +<p>Without more ado Jim handed the gun over.</p> +<p>"It's mine, boss," put in Bludsoe.</p> +<p>"Ahuh? Wal, what was Jim hidin' it fer?" demanded +Belllounds.</p> +<p>"Why, I jest tossed it to him--when I--sort of j'ined in with +the argyment. We was tusslin' some an' I didn't want no gun."</p> +<p>How characteristic of cowboys that they lied to shield Jack +Belllounds! But it was futile to attempt to deceive the old +rancher. Here was a man who had been forty years dealing with all +kinds of men and events.</p> +<p>"Bludsoe, you can't fool me," said old Bill, calmly. He had +roared at them, and his eyes still flashed like blue fire, but he +was calm and cool. Returning the gun to its owner, he continued: "I +reckon you'd spare my feelin's an' lie about some trick of Jack's. +Did he bust out?"</p> +<p>"Wal, tolerable like," replied Bludsoe, dryly.</p> +<p>"Ahuh! Tell me, then--an' no lies."</p> +<p>Belllounds's shrewd eyes had rested upon Wilson Moore. The +cowboy's face showed the red marks of battle and the white of +passion.</p> +<p>"I'm not going to lie, you can bet on that," he declared, +forcefully.</p> +<p>"Ahuh! I might hev knowed you an' Jack'd clash," said +Belllounds, gruffly. "What happened?"</p> +<p>"He hurt my horse. If it hadn't been for that there'd been no +trouble."</p> +<p>A light leaped up in the old man's bold eyes. He was a lover of +horses. Many hard words, and blows, too, he had dealt cowboys for +being brutal.</p> +<p>"What'd he do?"</p> +<p>"Look at Spottie's mouth."</p> +<p>The rancher's way of approaching a horse was singularly +different from his son's, notwithstanding the fact that Spottie +knew him and showed no uneasiness. The examination took only a +moment.</p> +<p>"Tongue cut bad. Thet's a damn shame. Take thet bridle off.... +There. If it'd been an ornery hoss, now.... Moore, how'd this +happen?"</p> +<p>"We just rode in," replied Wilson, hurriedly. "I was saddling +Spottie when Jack came up. He took a shine to the mustang and +wanted to ride him. When Spottie reared--he's shy with +strangers--why, Jack gave a hell of a jerk on the bridle. The bit +cut Spottie.... Well, that made me mad, but I held in. I objected +to Jack riding Spottie. You see, Hudson was hurt yesterday and he +appointed me foreman for to-day. I needed Spottie. But your son +couldn't see it, and that made me sore. Jack said the mustang was +his--"</p> +<p>"His?" interrupted Belllounds.</p> +<p>"Yes. He claimed Spottie. Well, he wasn't really mine, so I gave +in. When I threw off the saddle, which <i>was</i> mine, Jack began +to roar. He said he was foreman and he'd have me discharged. But I +said I'd quit already. We both kept getting sorer and I called him +Buster Jack.... He hit me first. Then we fought. I reckon I was +getting the best of him when he made a dive for Bludsoe's gun. And +that's all."</p> +<p>"Boss, as sure as I'm a born cowman," put in Bludsoe, "he'd hev +plugged Wils if he'd got my gun. At thet he damn near got it!"</p> +<p>The old man stroked his scant gray beard with his huge, steady +hand, apparently not greatly concerned by the disclosure.</p> +<p>"Montana, what do you say?" he queried, as if he held strong +store by that quiet cowboy's opinion.</p> +<p>"Wal, boss," replied Jim, reluctantly, "Buster Jack's temper was +bad onct, but now it's plumb wuss."</p> +<p>Whereupon Belllounds turned to Moore with a gesture and a look +of a man who, in justice to something in himself, had to speak.</p> +<p>"Wils, it's onlucky you clashed with Jack right off," he said. +"But thet was to be expected. I reckon Jack was in the wrong. Thet +hoss was yours by all a cowboy holds right an' square. Mebbe by law +Spottie belonged to White Slides Ranch--to me. But he's yours now, +fer I give him to you."</p> +<p>"Much obliged, Belllounds. I sure do appreciate that," replied +Moore, warmly. "It's what anybody'd gamble Bill Belllounds would +do."</p> +<p>"Ahuh! An' I'd take it as a favor if you'd stay on to-day an' +get thet brandin' done:"</p> +<p>"All right, I'll do that for you," replied Moore. "Lem, I guess +you won't get your sleep till to-night. Come on."</p> +<p>"Awl" sighed Lem, as he picked up his bridle.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>Late that afternoon Columbine sat upon the porch, watching the +sunset. It had been a quiet day for her, mostly indoors. Once only +had she seen Jack, and then he was riding by toward the pasture, +whirling a lasso round his head. Jack could ride like one born to +the range, but he was not an adept in the use of a rope. Nor had +Columbine seen the old rancher since breakfast. She had heard his +footsteps, however, pacing slowly up and down his room.</p> +<p>She was watching the last rays of the setting sun rimming with +gold the ramparts of the mountain eastward, and burning a crown for +Old White Slides peak. A distant bawl and bellow of cattle had died +away. The branding was over for that fall. How glad she felt! The +wind, beginning to grow cold as the sun declined, cooled her hot +face. In the solitude of her room Columbine had cried enough that +day to scald her cheeks.</p> +<p>Presently, down the lane between the pastures, she saw a cowboy +ride into view. Very slowly he came, leading another horse. +Columbine recognized Lem a second before she saw that he was +leading Pronto. That struck her as strange. Another glance showed +Pronto to be limping. Apparently he could just get along, and that +was all. Columbine ran out in dismay, reaching the corral gate +before Lem did. At first she had eyes only for her beloved +mustang.</p> +<p>"Oh, Lem--Pronto's hurt!" she cried.</p> +<p>"Wal, I should smile he is," replied Lem.</p> +<p>But Lem was not smiling. And when he wore a serious face for +Columbine something had indeed happened. The cowboy was the color +of dust and so tired that he reeled.</p> +<p>"Lem, he's all bloody!" exclaimed Columbine, as she ran toward +Pronto.</p> +<p>"Hyar, you jest wait," ordered Lem, testily. "Pronto's all cut +up, an' you gotta hustle some linen an' salve."</p> +<p>Columbine flew away to do his bidding, and so quick and violent +was she that when she got back to the corral she was out of breath. +Pronto whinnied as she fell, panting, on her knees beside Lem, who +was examining bloody gashes on the legs of the mustang.</p> +<p>"Wal, I reckon no great harm did," said Lem, with relief. "But +he shore hed a close shave. Now you help me doctor him up."</p> +<p>"Yes--I'll help," panted Columbine. "I've done this kind--of +thing often--but never--to Pronto.... Oh, I was afraid--he'd been +gored by a steer."</p> +<p>"Wal, he come damn near bein'," replied Lem, grimly. "An' if it +hedn't been fer ridin' you don't see every day, why thet ornery +Texas steer'd hev got him."</p> +<p>"Who was riding? Lem, was it you? Oh, I'll never be able to do +enough for you!"</p> +<p>"Wuss luck, it weren't me," said Lem.</p> +<p>"No? Who, then?"</p> +<p>"Wal, it was Wils, an' he made me swear to tell you +nuthin'--leastways about him."</p> +<p>"Wils! Did he save Pronto?... And didn't want you to tell me? +Lem, something has happened. You're not like yourself."</p> +<p>"Miss Collie, I reckon I'm nigh all in," replied Lem, wearily. +"When I git this bandagin' done I'll fall right off my hoss."</p> +<p>"But you're on the ground now, Lem," said Columbine, with a +nervous laugh. "What happened?"</p> +<p>"Did you hear about the argyment this mawnin'?"</p> +<p>"No. What--who--"</p> +<p>"You can ask Ole Bill aboot thet. The way Pronto was hurt come +off like this. Buster Jack rode out to where we was brandin' an' +jumped his hoss over a fence into the pasture. He hed a rope an' he +got to chasin' some hosses over thar. One was Pronto, an' the +son-of-a-gun somehow did git the noose over Pronto's head. But he +couldn't hold it, or didn't want to, fer Pronto broke loose an' +jumped the fence. This wasn't so bad as far as it went. But one of +them bad steers got after Pronto. He run an' sure stepped on the +rope, an' fell. The big steer nearly piled on him. Pronto broke +some records then. He shore was scared. Howsoever he picked out +rough ground an' run plumb into some dead brush. Reckon thar he got +cut up. We was all a good ways off. The steer went bawlin' an' +plungin' after Pronto. Wils yelled fer a rifle, but nobody hed one. +Nor a six-shooter, either.... I'm goin' back to packin' a gun. Wal, +Wils did some ridin' to git over thar in time to save Pronto."</p> +<p>"Lem, that is not all," said Columbine, earnestly, as the cowboy +concluded. Her knowledge of the range told her that Lem had +narrated nothing so far which could have been cause for his cold, +grim, evasive manner; and her woman's intuition divined a +catastrophe.</p> +<p>"Nope.... Wils's hoss fell on him."</p> +<p>Lem broke that final news with all a cowboy's bluntness.</p> +<p>"Was he hurt--<i>Lem</i>!" cried Columbine.</p> +<p>"Say, Miss Collie," remonstrated Lem, "we're doctorin' up your +hoss. You needn't drop everythin' an' grab me like thet. An' you're +white as a sheet, too. It ain't nuthin' much fer a cowboy to hev a +hoss fall on him."</p> +<p>"Lem Billings, I'll hate you if you don't tell me quick," +flashed Columbine, fiercely.</p> +<p>"Ahuh! So thet's how the land lays," replied Lem, shrewdly. +"Wal, I'm sorry to tell you thet Wils was bad hurt. Now, not +<i>real</i> bad!... The hoss fell on his leg an' broke it. I cut +off his boot. His foot was all smashed. But thar wasn't any other +hurt--honest! They're takin' him to Kremmlin'."</p> +<p>"Ah!" Columbine's low cry sounded strangely in her ears, as if +some one else had uttered it.</p> +<p>"Buster Jack made two bursts this hyar day," concluded Lem, +reflectively. "Miss Collie, I ain't shore how you're regardin' thet +individool, but I'm tellin' you this, fer your own good. He's bad +medicine. He has his old man's temper thet riles up at nuthin' an' +never felt a halter. Wusser'n thet, he's spoiled an' he acts like a +colt thet'd tasted loco. The idee of his ropin' Pronto right thar +near the round-up! Any one would think he jest come West. Old Bill +is no fool. But he wears blinders when he looks at his son. I'm +predictin' bad days fer White Slides Ranch."</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2> +<br> +<p>Only one man at Meeker appeared to be attracted by the news that +Rancher Bill Belllounds was offering employment. This was a little +cadaverous-looking fellow, apparently neither young nor old, who +said his name was Bent Wade. He had drifted into Meeker with two +poor horses and a pack.</p> +<p>"Whar you from?" asked the innkeeper, observing how Wade cared +for his horses before he thought of himself. The query had to be +repeated.</p> +<p>"Cripple Creek. I was cook for some miners an' I panned gold +between times," was the reply.</p> +<p>"Humph! Thet oughter been a better-payin' job than any to be hed +hereabouts."</p> +<p>"Yes, got big pay there," said Wade, with a sigh.</p> +<p>"What'd you leave fer?"</p> +<p>"We hed a fight over the diggin's an' I was the only one left. +I'll tell you...." Whereupon Wade sat down on a box, removed his +old sombrero, and began to talk. An idler sauntered over, attracted +by something. Then a miner happened by to halt and join the +group.</p> +<p>Next, old Kemp, the patriarch of the village, came and listened +attentively. Wade seemed to have a strange magnetism, a magic +tongue.</p> +<p>He was small of stature, but wiry and muscular. His garments +were old, soiled, worn. When he removed the wide-brimmed sombrero +he exposed a remarkable face. It was smooth except for a drooping +mustache, and pallid, with drops of sweat standing out on the high, +broad forehead; gaunt and hollow-cheeked, with an enormous nose, +and cavernous eyes set deep under shaggy brows. These features, +however, were not so striking in themselves. Long, sloping, almost +invisible lines of pain, the shadow of mystery and gloom in the +deep-set, dark eyes, a sad harmony between features and expression, +these marked the man's face with a record no keen eye could +miss.</p> +<p>Wade told a terrible tale of gold and blood and death. It seemed +to relieve him. His face changed, and lost what might have been +called its tragic light, its driven intensity.</p> +<p>His listeners shook their heads in awe. Hard tales were common +in Colorado, but this one was exceptional. Two of the group left +without comment. Old Kemp stared with narrow, half-recognizing eyes +at the new-comer.</p> +<p>"Wal! Wal!" ejaculated the innkeeper. "It do beat hell what can +happen!... Stranger, will you put up your hosses an' stay?"</p> +<p>"I'm lookin' for work," replied Wade.</p> +<p>It was then that mention was made of Belllounds sending to +Meeker for hands.</p> +<p>"Old Bill Belllounds thet settled Middle Park an' made friends +with the Utes," said Wade, as if certain of his facts.</p> +<p>"Yep, you have Bill to rights. Do you know him?"</p> +<p>"I seen him once twenty years ago."</p> +<p>"Ever been to Middle Park? Belllounds owns ranches there," said +the innkeeper.</p> +<p>"He ain't livin' in the Park now," interposed Kemp. "He's at +White Slides, I reckon, these last eight or ten years. Thet's over +the Gore Range."</p> +<p>"Prospected all through that country," said Wade.</p> +<p>"Wal, it's a fine part of Colorado. Hay an' stock country--too +high fer grain. Did you mean you'd been through the Park?"</p> +<p>"Once--long ago," replied Wade, staring with his great, +cavernous eyes into space. Some memory of Middle Park haunted +him.</p> +<p>"Wal, then, I won't be steerin' you wrong," said the innkeeper. +"I like thet country. Some people don't. An' I say if you can cook +or pack or punch cows or 'most anythin' you'll find a bunk with Old +Bill. I understand he was needin' a hunter most of all. Lions an' +wolves bad! Can you hunt?"</p> +<p>"Hey?" queried Wade, absently, as he inclined his ear. "I'm deaf +on one side."</p> +<p>"Are you a good man with dogs an' guns?" shouted his +questioner.</p> +<p>"Tolerable," replied Wade.</p> +<p>"Then you're sure of a job."</p> +<p>"I'll go. Much obliged to you."</p> +<p>"Not a-tall. I'm doin' Belllounds a favor. Reckon you'll put up +here to-night?"</p> +<p>"I always sleep out. But I'll buy feed an' supplies," replied +Wade, as he turned to his horses.</p> +<p>Old Kemp trudged down the road, wagging his gray head as if he +was contending with a memory sadly failing him. An hour later when +Bent Wade rode out of town he passed Kemp, and hailed him. The +old-timer suddenly slapped his leg: "By Golly! I knowed I'd met him +before!"</p> +<p>Later, he said with a show of gossipy excitement to his friend +the innkeeper, "Thet fellar was Bent Wade!"</p> +<p>"So he told me," returned the other.</p> +<p>"But didn't you never hear of him? <i>Bent Wade?</i>"</p> +<p>"Now you tax me, thet name do 'pear familiar. But dash take it, +I can't remember. I knowed he was somebody, though. Hope I didn't +wish a gun-fighter or outlaw on Old Bill. Who was he, anyhow?"</p> +<p>"They call him Hell-Bent Wade. I seen him in Wyomin', whar he +were a stage-driver. But I never heerd who he was an' what he was +till years after. Thet was onct I dropped down into Boulder. Wade +was thar, all shot up, bein' nussed by Sam Coles. Sam's dead now. +He was a friend of Wade's an' knowed him fer long. Wal, I heerd all +thet anybody ever heerd about him, I reckon. Accordin' to Coles +this hyar Hell-Bent Wade was a strange, wonderful sort of fellar. +He had the most amazin' ways. He could do anythin' under the sun +better'n any one else. Bad with guns! He never stayed in one place +fer long. He never hunted trouble, but trouble follered him. As I +remember Coles, thet was Wade's queer idee--he couldn't shake +trouble. No matter whar he went, always thar was hell. Thet's what +gave him the name Hell-Bent.... An' Coles swore thet Wade was the +whitest man he ever knew. Heart of gold, he said. Always savin' +somebody, helpin' somebody, givin' his money or time--never +thinkin' of himself a-tall.... When he began to tell thet story +about Cripple Creek then my ole head begun to ache with +rememberin'. Fer I'd heerd Bent Wade talk before. Jest the same +kind of story he told hyar, only wuss. Lordy! but thet fellar has +seen times. An' queerest of all is thet idee he has how hell's on +his trail an' everywhere he roams it ketches up with him, an' thar +he meets the man who's got to hear his tale!"</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>Sunset found Bent Wade far up the valley of White River under +the shadow of the Flat Top Mountains. It was beautiful country. +Grassy hills, with colored aspen groves, swelled up on his left, +and across the brawling stream rose a league-long slope of black +spruce, above which the bare red-and-gray walls of the range +towered, glorious with the blaze of sinking sun. White patches of +snow showed in the sheltered nooks. Wade's gaze rested longest on +the colored heights.</p> +<p>By and by the narrow valley opened into a park, at the upper end +of which stood a log cabin. A few cattle and horses grazed in an +inclosed pasture. The trail led by the cabin. As Wade rode up a +bushy-haired man came out of the door, rifle in hand. He might have +been going out to hunt, but his scrutiny of Wade was that of a lone +settler in a wild land.</p> +<p>"Howdy, stranger!" he said.</p> +<p>"Good evenin'," replied Wade. "Reckon you're Blair an' I'm nigh +the headwaters of this river?"</p> +<p>"Yep, a matter of three miles to Trapper's Lake."</p> +<p>"My name's Wade. I'm packin' over to take a job with Bill +Belllounds."</p> +<p>"Git down an' come in," returned Blair. "Bill's man stopped with +me some time ago."</p> +<p>"Obliged, I'm sure, but I'll be goin' on," responded Wade. "Do +you happen to have a hunk of deer meat? Game powerful scarce comin' +up this valley."</p> +<p>"Lots of deer an' elk higher up. I chased a bunch of more 'n +thirty, I reckon, right out of my pasture this mornin'."</p> +<p>Blair crossed to an open shed near by and returned with half a +deer haunch, which he tied upon Wade's pack-horse.</p> +<p>"My ole woman's ailin'. Do you happen to hev some terbaccer?</p> +<p>"I sure do--both smokin' an' chewin', an' I can spare more +chewin'. A little goes a long ways with me."</p> +<p>"Wal, gimme some of both, most chewin'," replied Blair, with +evident satisfaction.</p> +<p>"You acquainted with Belllounds?" asked Wade, as he handed over +the tobacco.</p> +<p>"Wal, yes, everybody knows Bill. You'd never find a whiter boss +in these hills."</p> +<p>"Has he any family?"</p> +<p>"Now, I can't say as to thet," replied Blair. "I heerd he lost a +wife years ago. Mebbe he married ag'in. But Bill's gittin' +along."</p> +<p>"Good day to you, Blair," said Wade, and took up his bridle.</p> +<p>"Good day an' good luck. Take the right-hand trail. Better trot +up a bit, if you want to make camp before dark."</p> +<p>Wade soon entered the spruce forest. Then he came to a shallow, +roaring river. The horses drank the water, foaming white and amber +around their knees, and then with splash and thump they forded it +over the slippery rocks. As they cracked out upon the trail a covey +of grouse whirred up into the low branches of spruce-trees. They +were tame.</p> +<p>"That's somethin' like," said Wade. "First birds I've seen this +fall. Reckon I can have stew any day."</p> +<p>He halted his horse and made a move to dismount, but with his +eyes on the grouse he hesitated. "Tame as chickens, an' they sure +are pretty."</p> +<p>Then he rode on, leading his pack-horse. The trail was not +steep, although in places it had washed out, thus hindering a +steady trot. As he progressed the forest grew thick and darker, and +the fragrance of pine and spruce filled the air. A dreamy roar of +water rushing over rocks rang in the traveler's ears. It receded at +times, then grew louder. Presently the forest shade ahead lightened +and he rode out into a wide space where green moss and flags and +flowers surrounded a wonderful spring-hole. Sunset gleams shone +through the trees to color the wide, round pool. It was shallow all +along the margin, with a deep, large green hole in the middle, +where the water boiled up. Trout were feeding on gnats and playing +on the surface, and some big ones left wakes behind them as they +sped to deeper water. Wade had an appreciative eye for all this +beauty, his gaze lingering longest upon the flowers.</p> +<p>"Wild woods is the place for me," he soliloquized, as the cool +wind fanned his cheeks and the sweet tang of evergreen tingled his +nostrils. "But sure I'm most haunted in these lonely, silent +places."</p> +<p>Bent Wade had the look of a haunted man. Perhaps the +consciousness he confessed was part of his secret.</p> +<p>Twilight had come when again he rode out into the open. +Trapper's Lake lay before him, a beautiful sheet of water, +mirroring the black slopes and the fringed spruces and the flat +peaks. Over all its gray, twilight-softened surface showed little +swirls and boils and splashes where the myriads of trout were +rising. The trail led out over open grassy shores, with a few pines +straggling down to the lake, and clumps of spruces raising dark +blurs against the background of gleaming lake. Wade heard a sharp +crack of hoofs on rock, and he knew he had disturbed deer at their +drinking; also he heard a ring of horns on the branch of a tree, +and was sure an elk was slipping off through the woods. Across the +lake he saw a camp-fire and a pale, sharp-pointed object that was a +trapper's tent or an Indian's tepee.</p> +<p>Selecting a camp-site for himself, he unsaddled his horse, threw +the pack off the other, and, hobbling both animals, he turned them +loose. His roll of bedding, roped in canvas tarpaulin, he threw +under a spruce-tree. Then he opened his oxhide-covered packs and +laid out utensils and bags, little and big. All his movements were +methodical, yet swift, accurate, habitual. He was not thinking +about what he was doing. It took him some little time to find a +suitable log to split for fire-wood, and when he had started a +blaze night had fallen, and the light as it grew and brightened +played fantastically upon the isolating shadows.</p> +<p>Lid and pot of the little Dutch oven he threw separately upon +the sputtering fire, and while they heated he washed his hands, +mixed the biscuits, cut slices of meat off the deer haunch, and put +water on to boil. He broiled his meat on the hot, red coals, and +laid it near on clean pine chips, while he waited for bread to bake +and coffee to boil. The smell of wood-smoke and odorous steam from +pots and the fragrance of spruce mingled together, keen, sweet, +appetizing. Then he ate his simple meal hungrily, with the content +of the man who had fared worse.</p> +<p>After he had satisfied himself he washed his utensils and stowed +them away, with the bags. Whereupon his movements acquired less +dexterity and speed. The rest hour had come. Still, like the +long-experienced man in the open, he looked around for more to do, +and his gaze fell upon his weapons, lying on his saddle. His rifle +was a Henry--shiny and smooth from long service and care. His small +gun was a Colt's 45. It had been carried in a saddle holster. Wade +rubbed the rifle with his hands, and then with a greasy rag which +he took from the sheath. After that he held the rifle to the heat +of the fire. A squall of rain had overtaken him that day, wetting +his weapons. A subtle and singular difference seemed to show in the +way he took up the Colt's. His action was slow, his look reluctant. +The small gun was not merely a thing of steel and powder and ball. +He dried it and rubbed it with care, but not with love, and then he +stowed it away.</p> +<p>Next Wade unrolled his bed under the spruce, with one end of the +tarpaulin resting on the soft mat of needles. On top of that came +the two woolly sheepskins, which he used to lie upon, then his +blankets, and over all the other end of the tarpaulin.</p> +<p>This ended his tasks for the day. He lighted his pipe and +composed himself beside the camp-fire to smoke and rest awhile +before going to bed. The silence of the wilderness enfolded lake +and shore; yet presently it came to be a silence accentuated by +near and distant sounds, faint, wild, lonely--the low hum of +falling water, the splash of tiny waves on the shore, the song of +insects, and the dismal hoot of owls.</p> +<p>"Bill Belllounds--an' he needs a hunter," soliloquized Bent +Wade, with gloomy, penetrating eyes, seeing far through the red +embers. "That will suit me an' change my luck, likely. Livin' in +the woods, away from people--I could stick to a job like that.... +But if this White Slides is close to the old trail I'll never +stay."</p> +<p>He sighed, and a darker shadow, not from flickering fire, +overspread his cadaverous face. Eighteen years ago he had driven +the woman he loved away from him, out into the world with her baby +girl. Never had he rested beside a camp-fire that that old agony +did not recur! Jealous fool! Too late he had discovered his fatal +blunder; and then had begun a search over Colorado, ending not a +hundred miles across the wild mountains from where he brooded that +lonely hour--a search ended by news of the massacre of a +wagon-train by Indians.</p> +<p>That was Bent Wade's secret.</p> +<p>And no earthly sufferings could have been crueler than his agony +and remorse, as through the long years he wandered on and on. The +very good that he tried to do seemed to foment evil. The wisdom +that grew out of his suffering opened pitfalls for his wandering +feet. The wildness of men and the passion of women somehow waited +with incredible fatality for that hour when chance led him into +their lives. He had toiled, he had given, he had fought, he had +sacrificed, he had killed, he had endured for the human nature +which in his savage youth he had betrayed. Yet out of his supreme +and endless striving to undo, to make reparation, to give his life, +to find God, had come, it seemed to Wade in his abasement, only a +driving torment.</p> +<p>But though his thought and emotion fluctuated, varying, +wandering, his memory held a fixed and changeless picture of a +woman, fair and sweet, with eyes of nameless blue, and face as +white as a flower.</p> +<p>"Baby would have been--let's see--'most nineteen years old +now--if she'd lived," he said. "A big girl, I reckon, like her +mother.... Strange how, as I grow older, I remember better!"</p> +<p>The night wind moaned through the spruces; dark clouds scudded +across the sky, blotting out the bright stars; a steady, low roar +of water came from the outlet of the lake. The camp-fire flickered +and burned out, so that no sparks blew into the blackness, and the +red embers glowed and paled and crackled. Wade at length got up and +made ready for bed. He threw back tarpaulin and blankets, and laid +his rifle alongside where he could cover it. His coat served for a +pillow and he put the Colt's gun under that; then pulling off his +boots, he slipped into bed, dressed as he was, and, like all men in +the open, at once fell asleep.</p> +<p>For Wade, and for countless men like him, who for many years had +roamed the West, this sleeping alone in wild places held both charm +and peril. But the fascination of it was only a vague realization, +and the danger was laughed at.</p> +<p>Over Bent Wade's quiet form the shadows played, the spruce +boughs waved, the piny needles rustled down, the wind moaned louder +as the night advanced. By and by the horses rested from their +grazing; the insects ceased to hum; and the continuous roar of +water dominated the solitude. If wild animals passed Wade's camp +they gave it a wide berth.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>Sunrise found Wade on the trail, climbing high up above the +lake, making for the pass over the range. He walked, leading his +horses up a zigzag trail that bore the tracks of recent travelers. +Although this country was sparsely settled, yet there were men +always riding from camp to camp or from one valley town to another. +Wade never tarried on a well-trodden trail.</p> +<p>As he climbed higher the spruce-trees grew smaller, no longer +forming a green aisle before him, and at length they became dwarfed +and stunted, and at last failed altogether. Soon he was above +timber-line and out upon a flat-topped mountain range, where in +both directions the land rolled and dipped, free of tree or shrub, +colorful with grass and flowers. The elevation exceeded eleven +thousand feet. A whipping wind swept across the plain-land. The sun +was pale-bright in the east, slowly being obscured by gray clouds. +Snow began to fall, first in scudding, scanty flakes, but +increasing until the air was full of a great, fleecy swirl. Wade +rode along the rim of a mountain wall, watching a beautiful +snow-storm falling into the brown gulf beneath him. Once as he +headed round a break he caught sight of mountain-sheep cuddled +under a protecting shelf. The snow-squall blew away, like a +receding wall, leaving grass and flowers wet. As the dark clouds +parted, the sun shone warmer out of the blue. Gray peaks, with +patches of white, stood up above their black-timbered slopes.</p> +<p>Wade soon crossed the flat-topped pass over the range and faced +a descent, rocky and bare at first, but yielding gradually to the +encroachment of green. He left the cold winds and bleak trails +above him. In an hour, when he was half down the slope, the forest +had become warm and dry, fragrant and still. At length he rode out +upon the brow of a last wooded bench above a grassy valley, where a +bright, winding stream gleamed in the sun. While the horses rested +Wade looked about him. Nature never tired him. If he had any peace +it emanated from the silent places, the solemn hills, the flowers +and animals of the wild and lonely land.</p> +<p>A few straggling pines shaded this last low hill above the +valley. Grass grew luxuriantly there in the open, but not under the +trees, where the brown needle-mats jealously obstructed the green. +Clusters of columbines waved their graceful, sweet, pale-blue +flowers that Wade felt a joy in seeing. He loved +flowers--columbines, the glory of Colorado, came first, and next +the many-hued purple asters, and then the flaunting spikes of +paint-brush, and after them the nameless and numberless wild +flowers that decked the mountain meadows and colored the grass of +the aspen groves and peeped out of the edge of snow fields.</p> +<p>"Strange how it seems good to live--when I look at a +columbine--or watch a beaver at his work--or listen to the bugle of +an elk!" mused Bent Wade. He wondered why, with all his life behind +him, he could still find comfort in these things.</p> +<p>Then he rode on his way. The grassy valley, with its winding +stream, slowly descended and widened, and left foothill and +mountain far behind. Far across a wide plain rose another range, +black and bold against the blue. In the afternoon Wade reached +Elgeria, a small hamlet, but important by reason of its being on +the main stage line, and because here miners and cattlemen bought +supplies. It had one street, so wide it appeared to be a square, on +which faced a line of bold board houses with high, flat fronts. +Wade rode to the inn where the stagecoaches made headquarters. It +suited him to feed and rest his horses there, and partake of a meal +himself, before resuming his journey.</p> +<p>The proprietor was a stout, pleasant-faced little woman, +loquacious and amiable, glad to see a stranger for his own sake +rather than from considerations of possible profit. Though Wade had +never before visited Elgeria, he soon knew all about the town, and +the miners up in the hills, and the only happenings of moment--the +arrival and departure of stages.</p> +<p>"Prosperous place," remarked Wade. "I saw that. An' it ought to +be growin'."</p> +<p>"Not so prosperous fer me as it uster be," replied the lady. "We +did well when my husband was alive, before our competitor come to +town. He runs a hotel where miners can drink an' gamble. I +don't.... But I reckon I've no cause to complain. I live."</p> +<p>"Who runs the other hotel?"</p> +<p>"Man named Smith. Reckon thet's not his real name. I've had +people here who--but it ain't no matter."</p> +<p>"Men change their names," replied Wade.</p> +<p>"Stranger, air you packin' through or goin' to stay?"</p> +<p>"On my way to White Slides Ranch, where I'm goin' to work for +Belllounds. Do you know him?"</p> +<p>"Know Belllounds? Me? Wal, he's the best friend I ever had when +I was at Kremmlin'. I lived there several years. My husband had +stock there. In fact, Bill started us in the cattle business. But +we got out of there an' come here, where Bob died, an' I've been +stuck ever since."</p> +<p>"Everybody has a good word for Belllounds," observed Wade.</p> +<p>"You'll never hear a bad one," replied the woman, with cheerful +warmth. "Bill never had but one fault, an' people loved him fer +thet."</p> +<p>"What was it?"</p> +<p>"He's got a wild boy thet he thinks the sun rises an' sets in. +Buster Jack, they call him. He used to come here often. But Bill +sent him away somewhere. The boy was spoiled. I saw his mother +years ago--she's dead this long time--an' she was no wife fer Bill +Belllounds. Jack took after her. An' Bill was thet woman's slave. +When she died all his big heart went to the son, an' thet accounts. +Jack will never be any good."</p> +<p>Wade thoughtfully nodded his head, as if he understood, and was +pondering other possibilities.</p> +<p>"Is he the only child?"</p> +<p>"There's a girl, but she's not Bill's kin. He adopted her when +she was a baby. An' Jack's mother hated this child--jealous, we +used to think, because it might grow up an' get some of Bill's +money.'</p> +<p>"What's the girl's name?" asked Wade.</p> +<p>"Columbine. She was over here last summer with Old Bill. They +stayed with me. It was then Bill had hard words with Smith across +the street. Bill was resentin' somethin' Smith put in my way. Wal, +the lass's the prettiest I ever seen in Colorado, an' as good as +she's pretty. Old Bill hinted to me he'd likely make a match +between her an' his son Jack. An' I ups an' told him, if Jack +hadn't turned over a new leaf when he comes home, thet such a +marriage would be tough on Columbine. Whew, but Old Bill was mad. +He jest can't stand a word ag'in' thet Buster Jack."</p> +<p>"Columbine Belllounds," mused Wade. "Queer name."</p> +<p>"Oh, I've knowed three girls named Columbine. Don't you know the +flower? It's common in these parts. Very delicate, like a sago +lily, only paler."</p> +<p>"Were you livin' in Kremmlin' when Belllounds adopted the girl?" +asked Wade.</p> +<p>"Laws no!" was the reply. "Thet was long before I come to Middle +Park. But I heerd all about it. The baby was found by gold-diggers +up in the mountains. Must have got lost from a wagon-train thet +Indians set on soon after--so the miners said. Anyway, Old Bill +took the baby an' raised her as his own."</p> +<p>"How old is she now?" queried Wade, with a singular change in +his tone.</p> +<p>"Columbine's around nineteen."</p> +<p>Bent Wade lowered his head a little, hiding his features under +the old, battered, wide-brimmed hat. The amiable innkeeper did not +see the tremor that passed over him, nor the slight stiffening that +followed, nor the gray pallor of his face. She went on talking +until some one called her.</p> +<p>Wade went outdoors, and with bent head walked down the street, +across a little river, out into green pasture-land. He struggled +with an amazing possibility. Columbine Belllounds might be his own +daughter. His heart leaped with joy. But the joy was short-lived. +No such hope in this world for Bent Wade! This coincidence, +however, left him with a strange, prophetic sense in his soul of a +tragedy coming to White Slides Ranch. Wade possessed some power of +divination, some strange gift to pierce the veil of the future. But +he could not exercise this power at will; it came involuntarily, +like a messenger of trouble in the dark night. Moreover, he had +never yet been able to draw away from the fascination of this +knowledge. It lured him on. Always his decision had been to go on, +to meet this boding circumstance, or to remain and meet it, in the +hope that he might take some one's burden upon his shoulders. He +sensed it now, in the keen, poignant clairvoyance of the +moment--the tangle of life that he was about to enter. Old Bill +Belllounds, big and fine, victim of love for a wayward son; Buster +Jack, the waster, the tearer-down, the destroyer, the wild youth at +a wild time; Columbine, the girl of unknown birth, good and loyal, +subject to a condition sure to ruin her. Wade's strange mind +revolved a hundred outcomes to this conflict of characters, but not +one of them was the one that was written. That remained dark. Never +had he received so strong a call out of the unknown, nor had he +ever felt such intense curiosity. Hope had long been dead in him, +except the one that he might atone in some way for the wrong he had +done his wife. So the pangs of emotion that recurred, in spite of +reason and bitterness, were not recognized by him as lingering +hopes. Wade denied the human in him, but he thrilled at the thought +of meeting Columbine Belllounds. There was something here beyond +all his comprehension.</p> +<p>"It <i>might</i>--be true!" he whispered. "I'll know when I see +her."</p> +<p>Then he walked back toward the inn. On the way he looked into +the barroom of the hotel run by Smith. It was a hard-looking place, +half full of idle men, whose faces were as open pages to Bent Wade. +Curiosity did not wholly control the impulse that made him wait at +the door till he could have a look at the man Smith. Somewhere, at +some time, Wade had met most of the veterans of western Colorado. +So much he had traveled! But the impulse that held him was answered +and explained when Smith came in--a burly man, with an ugly scar +marring one eye. Bent Wade recognized Smith. He recognized the +scar. For that scar was his own mark, dealt to this man, whose name +was not Smith, and who had been as evil as he looked, and whose +nomadic life was not due to remorse or love of travel.</p> +<p>Wade passed on without being seen. This recognition meant less +to him than it would have ten years ago, as he was not now the kind +of man who hunted old enemies for revenge or who went to great +lengths to keep out of their way. Men there were in Colorado who +would shoot at him on sight. There had been more than one that had +shot to his cost.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>That night Wade camped in the foothills east of Elgeria, and +upon the following day, at sunrise, his horses were breaking the +frosty grass and ferns of the timbered range. This he crossed, rode +down into a valley where a lonely cabin nestled, and followed an +old, blazed trail that wound up the course of a brook. The water +was of a color that made rock and sand and moss seem like gold. He +saw no signs or tracks of game. A gray jay now and then screeched +his approach to unseen denizens of the woods. The stream babbled +past him over mossy ledges, under the dark shade of clumps of +spruces, and it grew smaller as he progressed toward its source. At +length it was lost in a swale of high, rank grass, and the blazed +trail led on through heavy pine woods. At noon he reached the crest +of the divide, and, halting upon an open, rocky eminence, he gazed +down over a green and black forest, slow-descending to a great +irregular park that was his destination for the night.</p> +<p>Wade needed meat, and to that end, as he went on, he kept a +sharp lookout for deer, especially after he espied fresh tracks +crossing the trail. Slipping along ahead of his horses, that +followed, him almost too closely to permit of his noiseless +approach to game, he hunted all the way down to the great open park +without getting a shot.</p> +<p>This park was miles across and miles long, covered with tall, +waving grass, and it had straggling arms that led off into the +surrounding belt of timber. It sloped gently toward the center, +where a round, green acreage of grass gave promise of water. Wade +rode toward this, keeping somewhat to the right, as he wanted to +camp at the edge of the woods. Soon he rode out beyond one of the +projecting peninsulas of forest to find the park spreading wider in +that direction. He saw horses grazing with elk, and far down at the +notch, where evidently the park had outlet in a narrow valley, he +espied the black, hump-shaped, shaggy forms of buffalo. They bobbed +off out of sight. Then the elk saw or scented him, and they trotted +away, the antlered bulls ahead of the cows. Wade wondered if the +horses were wild. They showed great interest, but no fear. Beyond +them was a rising piece of ground, covered with pine, and it +appeared to stand aloft from the forest on the far side as well as +upon that by which he was approaching. Riding a mile or so farther +he ascertained that this bit of wooded ground resembled an island +in a lake. Presently he saw smoke arising above the treetops.</p> +<p>A tiny brook welled out of the green center of the park and +meandered around to pass near the island of pines. Wade saw +unmistakable signs of prospecting along this brook, and farther +down, where he crossed it, he found tracks made that day.</p> +<p>The elevated plot of ground appeared to be several acres in +extent, covered with small-sized pines, and at the far edge there +was a little log cabin. Wade expected to surprise a lone prospector +at his evening meal. As he rode up a dog ran out of the cabin, +barking furiously. A man, dressed in fringed buckskin, followed. He +was tall, and had long, iron-gray hair over his shoulders. His +bronzed and weather-beaten face was a mass of fine wrinkles where +the grizzled hair did not hide them, and his shining, red +countenance proclaimed an honest, fearless spirit.</p> +<p>"Howdy, stranger!" he called, as Wade halted several rods +distant. His greeting was not welcome, but it was civil. His keen +scrutiny, however, attested to more than his speech.</p> +<p>"Evenin', friend," replied Wade. "Might I throw my pack +here?"</p> +<p>"Sure. Get down," answered the other. "I calkilate I never seen +you in these diggin's."</p> +<p>"No. I'm Bent Wade, an' on my way to White Slides to work for +Belllounds."</p> +<p>"Glad to meet you. I'm new hereabouts, myself, but I know +Belllounds. My name's Lewis. I was jest cookin' grub. An' it'll +burn, too, if I don't rustle. Turn your hosses loose an' come +in."</p> +<p>Wade presented himself with something more than his usual +methodical action. He smelled buffalo steak, and he was hungry. The +cabin had been built years ago, and was a ramshackle shelter at +best. The stone fireplace, however, appeared well preserved. A bed +of red coals glowed and cracked upon the hearth.</p> +<p>"Reckon I sure smelled buffalo meat," observed Wade, with much +satisfaction. "It's long since I chewed a hunk of that."</p> +<p>"All ready. Now pitch in.... Yes, thar's some buffalo left in +here. Not hunted much. Thar's lots of elk an' herds of deer. After +a little snow you'd think a drove of sheep had been trackin' +around. An' some bear."</p> +<p>Wade did not waste many words until he had enjoyed that meal. +Later, while he helped his host, he recurred to the subject of +game.</p> +<p>"If there's so many deer then there's lions an' wolves."</p> +<p>"You bet. I see tracks every day. Had a shot at a lofer not long +ago. Missed him. But I reckon thar's more varmints over in the +Troublesome country back of White Slides."</p> +<p>"Troublesome! Do they call it that?" asked Wade, with a queer +smile.</p> +<p>"Sure. An' it is troublesome. Belllounds has been tryin' to hire +a hunter. Offered me big wages to kill off the wolves an' +lions."</p> +<p>"That's the job I'm goin' to take."</p> +<p>"Good!" exclaimed Lewis. "I'm sure glad. Belllounds is a nice +fellar. I felt sort of cheap till I told him I wasn't really a +hunter. You see, I'm prospectin' up here, an' pretendin' to be a +hunter."</p> +<p>"What do you make that bluff for?" queried Wade.</p> +<p>"You couldn't fool any one who'd ever prospected for gold. I saw +your signs out here."</p> +<p>"Wal, you've sharp eyes, thet's all. Wade, I've some ondesirable +neighbors over here. I'd just as lief they didn't see me diggin' +gold. Lately I've had a hunch they're rustlin' cattle. Anyways, +they've sold cattle in Kremmlin' thet came from over around +Elgeria."</p> +<p>"Wherever there's cattle there's sure to be some stealin'," +observed Wade.</p> +<p>"Wal, you needn't say anythin' to Belllounds, because mebbe I'm +wrong. An' if I found out I was right I'd go down to White Slides +an' tell it myself. Belllounds done some favors."</p> +<p>"How far to White Slides?" asked Wade, with a puff on his +pipe.</p> +<p>"Roundabout trail, an' rough, but you'll make it in one day, +easy. Beautiful country. Open, big peaks an' ranges, with valleys +an' lakes. Never seen such grass!"</p> +<p>"Did you ever see Belllounds's son?"</p> +<p>"No. Didn't know he hed one. But I seen his gal the fust day I +was thar. She was nice to me. I went thar to be fixed up a bit. +Nearly chopped my hand off. The gal--Columbine, she's +called--doctored me up. Fact is, I owe considerable to thet White +Slides Ranch. There's a cowboy, Wils somethin', who rode up here +with some medicine fer me--some they didn't have when I was thar. +You'll like thet boy. I seen he was sweet on the gal an' I sure +couldn't blame him."</p> +<p>Bent Wade removed his pipe and let out a strange laugh, +significant with its little note of grim confirmation.</p> +<p>"What's funny about thet?" demanded Lewis, rather surprised.</p> +<p>"I was only laughin'," replied Wade. "What you said about the +cowboy bein' sweet on the girl popped into my head before you told +it. Well, boys will be boys. I was young once an' had my day."</p> +<p>Lewis grunted as he bent over to lift a red coal to light his +pipe, and as he raised his head he gave Wade a glance of +sympathetic curiosity.</p> +<p>"Wal, I hope I'll see more of you," he said, as his guest rose, +evidently to go.</p> +<p>"Reckon you will, as I'll be chasin' hounds all over. An' I want +a look at them neighbors you spoke of that might be rustlers.... +I'll turn in now. Good night."</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V</h2> +<br> +<p>Bent Wade rode out of the forest to look down upon the White +Slides country at the hour when it was most beautiful.</p> +<p>"Never seen the beat of that!" he exclaimed, as he halted.</p> +<p>The hour was sunset, with the golden rays and shadows streaking +ahead of him down the rolling sage hills, all rosy and gray with +rich, strange softness. Groves of aspens stood isolated from one +another--here crowning a hill with blazing yellow, and there +fringing the brow of another with gleaming gold, and lower down +reflecting the sunlight with brilliant red and purple. The valley +seemed filled with a delicate haze, almost like smoke. White Slides +Ranch was hidden from sight, as it lay in the bottomland. The gray +old peak towered proud and aloof, clear-cut and sunset-flushed +against the blue. The eastern slope of the valley was a vast sweep +of sage and hill and grassy bench and aspen bench, on fire with the +colors of autumn made molten by the last flashing of the sun. Great +black slopes of forest gave sharp contrast, and led up to the +red-walled ramparts of the mountain range.</p> +<p>Wade watched the scene until the fire faded, the golden shafts +paled and died, the rosy glow on sage changed to cold steel gray. +Then he rode out upon the foothills. The trail led up and down +slopes of sage. Grass grew thicker as he descended. Once he +startled a great flock of prairie-chickens, or sage-hens, large +gray birds, lumbering, swift fliers, that whirred up, and soon +plumped down again into the sage. Twilight found him on a last long +slope of the foothills, facing the pasture-land of the valley, with +the ranch still five miles distant, now showing misty and dim in +the gathering shadows.</p> +<p>Wade made camp where a brook ran near an aspen thicket. He had +no desire to hurry to meet events at White Slides Ranch, although +he longed to see this girl that belonged to Belllounds. Night +settled down over the quiet foothills. A pack of roving coyotes +visited Wade, and sat in a half-circle in the shadows back of the +camp-fire. They howled and barked. Nevertheless sleep visited +Wade's tired eyelids the moment he lay down and closed them.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>Next morning, rather late, Wade rode down to White Slides Ranch. +It looked to him like the property of a rich rancher who held to +the old and proven customs of his generation. The corrals were new, +but their style was old. Wade reflected that it would be hard for +rustlers or horse-thieves to steal out of those corrals. A long +lane led from the pasture-land, following the brook that ran +through the corrals and by the back door of the rambling, +comfortable-looking cabin. A cowboy was leading horses across a +wide square between the main ranch-house and a cluster of cabins +and sheds. He saw the visitor and waited.</p> +<p>"Mornin'," said Wade, as he rode up.</p> +<p>"Hod do," replied the cowboy.</p> +<p>Then these two eyed each other, not curiously nor suspiciously, +but with that steady, measuring gaze common to Western men.</p> +<p>"My name's Wade," said the traveler. "Come from Meeker way. I'm +lookin' for a job with Belllounds."</p> +<p>"I'm Lem Billings," replied the other. "Ridin' fer White Slides +fer years. Reckon the boss'll be glad to take you on."</p> +<p>"Is he around?"</p> +<p>"Sure. I jest seen him," replied Billings, as he haltered his +horses to a post. "I reckon I ought to give you a hunch."</p> +<p>"I'd take that as a favor."</p> +<p>"Wal, we're short of hands," said the cowboy. "Jest got the +round-up over. Hudson was hurt an' Wils Moore got crippled. Then +the boss's son has been put on as foreman. Three of the boys quit. +Couldn't stand him. This hyar son of Belllounds is a son-of-a-gun! +Me an' pards of mine, Montana an' Bludsoe, are stickin' on--wal, +fer reasons thet ain't egzactly love fer the boss. But Old Bill's +the best of bosses.... Now the hunch is--thet if you git on hyar +you'll hev to do two or three men's work."</p> +<p>"Much obliged," replied Wade. "I don't shy at that."</p> +<p>"Wal, git down an' come in," added Billings, heartily.</p> +<p>He led the way across the square, around the corner of the +ranch-house, and up on a long porch, where the arrangement of +chairs and blankets attested to the hand of a woman. The first door +was open, and from it issued voices; first a shrill, petulant boy's +complaint, and then a man's deep, slow, patient reply.</p> +<p>Lem Billings knocked on the door-jamb.</p> +<p>"Wal, what's wanted?" called Belllounds.</p> +<p>"Boss, thar's a man wantin' to see you," replied Lem.</p> +<p>Heavy steps approached the doorway and it was filled with the +large figure of the rancher. Wade remembered Belllounds and saw +only a gray difference in years.</p> +<p>"Good mornin', Lem, an' good moinin' to you, stranger," was the +rancher's greeting, his bold, blue glance, honest and frank and +keen, with all his long experience of men, taking Wade in with one +flash.</p> +<p>Lem discreetly walked to the end of the porch as another figure, +that of the son who resembled the father, filled the doorway, with +eyes less kind, bent upon the visitor.</p> +<p>"My name's Wade. I'm over from Meeker way, hopin' to find a job +with you," said Wade.</p> +<p>"Glad to meet you," replied Belllounds, extending his huge hand +to shake Wade's. "I need you, sure bad. What's your special brand +of work?"</p> +<p>"I reckon any kind."</p> +<p>"Set down, stranger," replied Belllounds, pulling up a chair. He +seated himself on a bench and leaned against the log wall. "Now, +when a boy comes an' says he can do anythin', why I jest haw! haw! +at him. But you're a man, Wade, an' one as has been there. Now I'm +hard put fer hands. Jest speak out now fer yourself. No one else +can speak fer you, thet's sure. An' this is bizness."</p> +<p>"Any work with stock, from punchin' steers to doctorin' horses," +replied Wade, quietly. "Am fair carpenter an' mason. Good packer. +Know farmin'. Can milk cows an' make butter. I've been cook in many +outfits. Read an' write an' not bad at figures. Can do work on +saddles an' harness, an-"</p> +<p>"Hold on!" yelled Belllounds, with a hearty laugh. "I ain't +imposin' on no man, no matter how I need help. You're sure a jack +of all range trades. An' I wish you was a hunter."</p> +<p>"I was comin' to that. You didn't give me time."</p> +<p>"Say, do you know hounds?" queried Belllounds, eagerly.</p> +<p>"Yes. Was raised where everybody had packs. I'm from Kentucky. +An' I've run hounds off an' on for years. I'll tell you--"</p> +<p>Belllounds interrupted Wade.</p> +<p>"By all that's lucky! An' last, can you handle guns? We 'ain't +had a good shot on this range fer Lord knows how long. I used to +hit plumb center with a rifle. My eyes are pore now. An' my son +can't hit a flock of haystacks. An' the cowpunchers are 'most as +bad. Sometimes right hyar where you could hit elk with a club we're +out of fresh meat."</p> +<p>"Yes, I can handle guns," replied Wade, with a quiet smile and a +lowering of his head. "Reckon you didn't catch my name."</p> +<p>"Wal--no, I didn't," slowly replied Belllounds, and his pause, +with the keener look he bestowed upon Wade, told how the latter's +query had struck home.</p> +<p>"Wade--Bent Wade," said Wade, with quiet distinctness.</p> +<p>"<i>Not Hell-Bent Wade!</i>" ejaculated Belllounds.</p> +<p>"The same.... I ain't proud of the handle, but I never sail +under false colors."</p> +<p>"Wal, I'll be damned!" went on the rancher. "Wade, I've heerd of +you fer years. Some bad, but most good, an' I reckon I'm jest as +glad to meet you as if you'd been somebody else."</p> +<p>"You'll give me the job?"</p> +<p>"I should smile."</p> +<p>"I'm thankin' you. Reckon I was some worried. Jobs are hard for +me to get an' harder to keep."</p> +<p>"Thet's not onnatural, considerin' the hell which's said to camp +on your trail," replied Belllounds, dryly. "Wade, I can't say I +take a hell of a lot of stock in such talk. Fifty years I've been +west of the Missouri. I know the West an' I know men. Talk flies +from camp to ranch, from diggin's to town, an' always some one adds +a little more. Now I trust my judgment an' I trust men. No one ever +betrayed me yet."</p> +<p>"I'm that way, too," replied Wade. "But it doesn't pay, an' yet +I still kept on bein' that way.... Belllounds, my name's as bad as +good all over western Colorado. But as man to man I tell you--I +never did a low-down trick in my life.... Never but once."</p> +<p>"An' what was thet?" queried the rancher, gruffly.</p> +<p>"I killed a man who was innocent," replied Wade, with quivering +lips, "an'--an' drove the woman I loved to her death."</p> +<p>"Aw! we all make mistakes some time in our lives," said +Belllounds, hurriedly. "I made 'most as big a one as yours--so help +me God!..."</p> +<p>"I'll tell you--" interrupted Wade.</p> +<p>"You needn't tell me anythin'," said Belllounds, interrupting in +his turn. "But at thet some time I'd like to hear about the +Lascelles outfit over on the Gunnison. I knowed Lascelles. An' a +pardner of mine down in Middle Park came back from the Gunnison +with the dog-gondest story I ever heerd. Thet was five years ago +this summer. Of course I knowed your name long before, but this +time I heerd it powerful strong. You got in thet mix-up to your +neck.... Wal, what consarns me now is this. Is there any sense in +the talk thet wherever you land there's hell to pay?"</p> +<p>"Belllounds, there's no sense in it, but a lot of truth," +confessed Wade, gloomily.</p> +<p>"Ahuh!... Wal, Hell-Bent Wade, I'll take a chance on you," +boomed the rancher's deep voice, rich with the intent of his big +heart. "I've gambled all my life. An' the best friends I ever made +were men I'd helped.... What wages do you ask?"</p> +<p>"I'll take what you offer."</p> +<p>"I'm payin' the boys forty a month, but thet's not enough fer +you."</p> +<p>"Yes, that'll do."</p> +<p>"Good, it's settled," concluded Belllounds, rising. Then he saw +his son standing inside the door. "Say, Jack, shake hands with Bent +Wade, hunter an' all-around man. Wade, this's my boy. I've jest put +him on as foreman of the outfit, an' while I'm at it I'll say thet +you'll take orders from me an' not from him."</p> +<p>Wade looked up into the face of Jack Belllounds, returned his +brief greeting, and shook his limp hand. The contact sent a strange +chill over Wade. Young Belllounds's face was marred by a bruise and +shaded by a sullen light.</p> +<p>"Get Billin's to take you out to thet new cabin an' sheds I jest +had put up," said the rancher. "You'll bunk in the cabin.... Aw, I +know. Men like you sleep in the open. But you can't do thet under +Old White Slides in winter. Not much! Make yourself to home, an' +I'll walk out after a bit an' we'll look over the dog outfit. When +you see thet outfit you'll holler fer help."</p> +<p>Wade bowed his thanks, and, putting on his sombrero, he turned +away. As he did so he caught a sound of light, quick footsteps on +the far end of the porch.</p> +<p>"Hello, you-all!" cried a girl's voice, with melody in it that +vibrated piercingly upon Wade's sensitive ears.</p> +<p>"Mornin', Columbine," replied the rancher.</p> +<p>Bent Wade's heart leaped up. This girlish voice rang upon the +chord of memory. Wade had not the strength to look at her then. It +was not that he could not bear to look, but that he could not bear +the disillusion sure to follow his first glimpse of this adopted +daughter of Belllounds. Sweet to delude himself! Ah! the years were +bearing sterner upon his head! The old dreams persisted, sadder now +for the fact that from long use they had become half-realities! +Wade shuffled slowly across the green square to where the cowboy +waited for him. His eyes were dim, and a sickness attended the +sinking of his heart.</p> +<p>"Wade, I ain't a bettin' fellar, but I'll bet Old Bill took you +up," vouchsafed Billings, with interest.</p> +<p>"Glad to say he did," replied Wade. "You're to show me the new +cabin where I'm to bunk."</p> +<p>"Come along," said Lem, leading off. "Air you agoin' to handle +stock or chase coyotes?"</p> +<p>"My job's huntin'."</p> +<p>"Wal, it may be thet from sunup to sundown, but between times +you'll be sure busy otherwise, I opine," went on Lem. "Did you meet +the boss's son?"</p> +<p>"Yes, he was there. An' Belllounds made it plain I was to take +orders from him an' not from his son."</p> +<p>"Thet'll make your job a million times easier," declared Lem, as +if to make up for former hasty pessimism. He led the way past some +log cabins, and sheds with dirt roofs, and low, flat-topped barns, +out across another brook where willow-trees were turning yellow. +Then the new cabin came into view. It was small, with one door and +one window, and a porch across the front. It stood on a small +elevation, near the swift brook, and overlooking the ranch-house +perhaps a quarter of a mile below. Above it, and across the brook, +had been built a high fence constructed of aspen poles laced +closely together. The sounds therefrom proclaimed this stockade to +be the dog-pen.</p> +<p>Lem helped Wade unpack and carry his outfit into the cabin. It +contained one room, the corner of which was filled with blocks and +slabs of pine, evidently left there after the construction of the +cabin, and meant for fire-wood. The ample size of the stone +fireplace attested to the severity of the winters.</p> +<p>"Real sawed boards on the floor!" exclaimed Lem, meaning to +impress the new-comer. "I call this a plumb good bunk."</p> +<p>"Much too good for me," replied Wade.</p> +<p>"Wal, I'll look after your hosses," said Lem. "I reckon you'll +fix up your bunk. Take my hunch an' ask Miss Collie to find you +some furniture an' sich like. She's Ole Bill's daughter, an' she +makes up fer--fer--wal, fer a lot we hev to stand. I'll fetch the +boys over later."</p> +<p>"Do you smoke?" asked Wade. "I've somethin' fine I fetched up +from Leadville."</p> +<p>"Smoke! Me? I'll give you a hoss right now for a cigar. I git +one onct a year, mebbe."</p> +<p>"Here's a box I've been packin' for long," replied Wade, as he +handed it up to Billings. "They're Spanish, all right. Too rich for +my blood!"</p> +<p>A box of gold could not have made that cowboy's eyes shine any +brighter.</p> +<p>"<i>Whoop-ee!</i>" he yelled. "Why, man, you're like the fairy +in the kid's story! Won't I make the outfit wild? Aw, I forgot. +Thar's only Jim an' Blud left. Wal, I'll divvy with them. Sure, +Wade, you hit me right. I was dyin' fer a real smoke. An' I reckon +what's mine is yours."</p> +<p>Then he strode out of the cabin, whistling a merry cowboy +tune.</p> +<p>Wade was left sitting in the middle of the room on his roll of +bedding, and for a long time he remained there motionless, with his +head bent, his worn hands idly clasped. A heavy footfall outside +aroused him from his meditation.</p> +<p>"Hey, Wade!" called the cheery voice of Belllounds. Then the +rancher appeared at the door. "How's this bunk suit you?"</p> +<p>"Much too fine for an old-timer like me," replied Wade.</p> +<p>"Old-timer! Say, you're young yet. Look at me. Sixty-eight last +birthday! Wal, every dog has his day.... What're you needin' to fix +this bunk comfortable like?"</p> +<p>"Reckon I don't need much."</p> +<p>"Wal, you've beddin' an' cook outfit. Go get a table, an' a +chair an' a bench from thet first cabin. The boys thet had it are +gone. Somethin' with a back to it, a rockin'-chair, if there's one. +You'll find tools, an' boxes, an' stuff in the workshop, if you +want to make a cupboard or anythin'."</p> +<p>"How about a lookin'-glass?" asked Wade. "I had a piece, but I +broke it."</p> +<p>"Haw! Haw! Mebbe we can rustle thet, too. My girl's good on +helpin' the boys fix up. Woman-like, you know. An' she'll fetch you +some decorations on her own hook. Now let's take a look at the +hounds."</p> +<p>Belllounds led the way out toward the crude dog-corral, and the +way he leaped the brook bore witness to the fact that he was still +vigorous and spry. The door of the pen was made of boards hung on +wire. As Belllounds opened it there came a pattering rush of many +padded feet, and a chorus of barks and whines. Wade's surprised +gaze took in forty or fifty dogs, mostly hounds, browns and blacks +and yellows, all sizes--a motley, mangy, hungry pack, if he had +ever seen one.</p> +<p>"I swore I'd buy every hound fetched to me, till I'd cleaned up +the varmints around White Slides. An' sure I was imposed on," +explained the rancher.</p> +<p>"Some good-lookin' hounds in the bunch," replied Wade. "An' +there's hardly too many. I'll train two packs, so I can rest one +when the other's huntin'."</p> +<p>"Wal, I'll be dog-goned!" ejaculated Belllounds, with relief. "I +sure thought you'd roar. All this rabble to take care of!"</p> +<p>"No trouble after I've got acquainted," said Wade. "Have they +been hunted any?"</p> +<p>"Some of the boys took out a bunch. But they split on deer +tracks an' elk tracks an' Lord knows what all. Never put up a lion! +Then again Billings took some out after a pack of coyotes, an' gol +darn me if the coyotes didn't lick the hounds. An' wuss! Jack, my +son, got it into his head thet he was a hunter. The other mornin' +he found a fresh lion track back of the corral. An' he ups an' puts +the whole pack of hounds on the trail. I had a good many more +hounds in the pack than you see now. Wal, anyway, it was great to +hear the noise thet pack made. Jack lost every blamed hound of +them. Thet night an' next day an' the followin' they straggled in. +But twenty some never did come back."</p> +<p>Wade laughed. "They may come yet. I reckon, though, they've gone +home where they came from. Are any of these hounds +recommended?"</p> +<p>"Every consarned one of them," declared Belllounds.</p> +<p>"That's funny. But I guess it's natural. Do you know for sure +whether you bought any good dogs?"</p> +<p>"Yes, I gave fifty dollars for two hounds. Got them of a friend +in Middle Park whose pack killed off the lions there. They're good +dogs, trained on lion, wolf, an' bear."</p> +<p>"Pick 'em out," said Wade.</p> +<p>With a throng of canines crowding and fawning round him, and +snapping at one another, it was difficult for the rancher to draw +the two particular ones apart so they could be looked over. At +length he succeeded, and Wade drove back the rest of the pack.</p> +<p>"The big fellar's Sampson an' the other's Jim," said +Belllounds.</p> +<p>Sampson was a huge hound, gray and yellow, with mottled black +marks, very long ears, and big, solemn eyes. Jim, a good-sized dog, +but small in comparison with the other, was black all over, except +around the nose and eyes. Jim had many scars. He was old, yet not +past a vigorous age, and he seemed a quiet, dignified, wise hound, +quite out of his element in that mongrel pack.</p> +<p>"If they're as good as they look we're lucky," said Wade, as he +tied the ends of his rope round their necks. "Now are there any +more you know are good?"</p> +<p>"Denver, come hyar!" yelled Belllounds. A white, yellow-spotted +hound came wagging his tail. "I'll swear by Denver. An' there's one +more--Kane. He's half bloodhound, a queer, wicked kind of dog. He +keeps to himself.... Kane! Come hyar!"</p> +<p>Belllounds tramped around the corral, and finally found the +hound in question, asleep in a dusty hole. Kane was the only +beautiful dog in the lot. If half of him was bloodhound the other +half was shepherd, for his black and brown hair was inclined to +curl, and his head had the fine thoroughbred contour of the +shepherd. His ears, long and drooping and thin, betrayed the hound +in him. Kane showed no disposition to be friendly. His dark eyes, +sad and mournful, burned with the fires of doubt.</p> +<p>Wade haltered Kane, Jim, and Sampson, which act almost +precipitated a fight, and led them out of the corral. Denver, +friendly and glad, followed at the rancher's heels.</p> +<p>"I'll keep them with me an' make lead dogs out of them," said +Wade. "Belllounds, that bunch hasn't had enough to eat. They're +half starved."</p> +<p>"Wal, thet's worried me more'n you'll guess," declared +Belllounds, with irritation. "What do a lot of cow-punchin' fellars +know about dogs? Why, they nearly ate Bludsoe up. He wouldn't feed +'em. An' Wils, who seemed good with dogs, was taken off bad hurt +the other day. Lem's been tryin' to rustle feed fer them. Now we'll +give back the dogs you don't want to keep, an' thet way thin out +the pack."</p> +<p>"Yes, we won't need `em all. An' I reckon I'll take the worry of +this dog-pack off your mind."</p> +<p>"Thet's your job, Wade. My orders are fer you to kill off the +varmints. Lions, wolves, coyotes. An' every fall some ole silvertip +gits bad, an' now an' then other bears. Whatever you need in the +way of supplies jest ask fer. We send regular to Kremmlin'. You can +hunt fer two months yet, barrin' an onusual early winter.... I'm +askin' you--if my son tramps on your toes--I'd take it as a favor +fer you to be patient. He's only a boy yet, an' coltish."</p> +<p>Wade divined that was a favor difficult for Belllounds to ask. +The old rancher, dominant and forceful and self-sufficient all his +days, had begun to feel an encroachment of opposition beyond his +control. If he but realized it, the favor he asked of Wade was an +appeal.</p> +<p>"Belllounds, I get along with everybody," Wade assured him. "An' +maybe I can help your son. Before I'd reached here I'd heard he was +wild, an' so I'm prepared."</p> +<p>"If you'd do thet--wal, I'd never forgit it," replied the +rancher, slowly. "Jack's been away fer three years. Only got back a +week or so ago. I calkilated he'd be sobered, steadied, +by--thet--thet work I put him to. But I'm not sure. He's changed. +When he gits his own way he's all I could ask. But thet way he +wants ain't always what it ought to be. An' so thar's been clashes. +But Jack's a fine young man. An' he'll outgrow his temper an' crazy +notions. Work'll do it."</p> +<p>"Boys will be boys," replied Wade, philosophically. "I've not +forgotten when I was a boy."</p> +<p>"Neither hev I. Wal, I'll be goin', Wade. I reckon Columbine +will be up to call on you. Bein' the only woman-folk in my house, +she sort of runs it. An' she's sure interested in thet pack of +hounds."</p> +<p>Belllounds trudged away, his fine old head erect, his gray hair +shining in the sun.</p> +<p>Wade sat down upon the step of his cabin, pondering over the +rancher's remarks about his son. Recalling the young man's +physiognomy, Wade began to feel that it was familiar to him. He had +seen Jack Belllounds before. Wade never made mistakes in faces, +though he often had a task to recall names. And he began to go over +the recent past, recalling all that he could remember of Meeker, +and Cripple Creek, where he had worked for several months, and so +on, until he had gone back as far as his last trip to Denver.</p> +<p>"Must have been there," mused Wade, thoughtfully, and he tried +to recall all the faces he had seen. This was impossible, of +course, yet he remembered many. Then he visualized the places in +Denver that for one reason or another had struck him particularly. +Suddenly into one of these flashed the pale, sullen, bold face of +Jack Belllounds.</p> +<p>"It was <i>there!</i>" he exclaimed, incredulously. "Well!... If +thet's not the strangest yet! Could I be mistaken? No. I saw +him.... Belllounds must have known it--must have let him stay +there.... Maybe put him there! He's just the kind of a man to go to +extremes to reform his son."</p> +<p>Singular as was this circumstance, Wade dwelt only momentarily +on it. He dismissed it with the conviction that it was another +strange happening in the string of events that had turned his steps +toward White Slides Ranch. Wade's mind stirred to the probability +of an early sight of Columbine Belllounds. He would welcome it, +both as interesting and pleasurable, and surely as a relief. The +sooner a meeting with her was over the better. His life had been +one long succession of shocks, so that it seemed nothing the future +held could thrill him, amaze him, torment him. And yet how well he +knew that his heart was only the more responsive for all it had +withstood! Perhaps here at White Slides he might meet with an +experience dwarfing all others. It was possible; it was in the +nature of events. And though he repudiated such a possibility, he +fortified himself against a subtle divination that he might at last +have reached the end of his long trail, where anything might +happen.</p> +<p>Three of the hounds lay down at Wade's feet. Kane, the +bloodhound, stood watching this new master, after the manner of a +dog who was a judge of men. He sniffed at Wade. He grew a little +less surly.</p> +<p>Wade's gaze, however, was on the path that led down along the +border of the brook to disappear in the willows. Above this clump +of yellowing trees could be seen the ranch-house. A girl with fair +hair stepped off the porch. She appeared to be carrying something +in her arms, and shortly disappeared behind the willows. Wade saw +her and surmised that she was coming to his cabin. He did not +expect any more or think any more. His faculties condensed to the +objective one of sight.</p> +<p>The girl, when she reappeared, was perhaps a hundred yards +distant. Wade bent on her one keen, clear glance. Then his brain +and his blood beat wildly. He saw a slender girl in riding-costume, +lithe and strong, with the free step of one used to the open. It +was this form, this step that struck Wade. "My--God! how like +Lucy!" he whispered, and he tried to pierce the distance to see her +face. It gleamed in the sunshine. Her fair hair waved in the wind. +She was coming, but so slowly! All of Wade that was physical and +emotional seemed to wait--clamped. The moment was age-long, with +nothing beyond it. While she was still at a distance her face +became distinct. And Wade sustained a terrible shock.... Then, as +one in a dream, as in a blur of strained peering into a maze, he +saw the face of his sweetheart, his wife, the Lucy of his early +manhood. It moved him out of the past. Closer! Pang on pang +quivered in his heart. Was this only a nightmare? Or had he at last +gone mad! This girl raised her head. She was looking--she saw him. +Terror mounted upon Wade's consciousness.</p> +<p>"That's Lucy's face!" he gasped. "So help--me, God!... It's for +this--I wandered here! She's my flesh an' blood--my Lucy's +child--my own!"</p> +<p>Fear and presentiment and blank amaze and stricken consciousness +left him in the lightning-flash of divination that was recognition +as well. A shuddering cataclysm enveloped him, a passion so +stupendous that it almost brought oblivion.</p> +<p>The three hounds leaped up with barks and wagging tails. They +welcomed this visitor. Kane lost still more of his canine +aloofness.</p> +<p>Wade's breast heaved. The blue sky, the gray hills, the green +willows, all blurred in his sight, that seemed to hold clear only +the face floating closer.</p> +<p>"I'm Columbine Belllounds," said a voice.</p> +<p>It stilled the storm in Wade. It was real. It was a voice of +twenty years ago. The burden on his breast lifted. Then flashed the +spirit, the old self-control of a man whose life had held many +terrible moments.</p> +<p>"Mornin', miss. I'm glad to meet you," he replied, and there was +no break, no tone unnatural in his greeting.</p> +<p>So they gazed at each other, she with that instinctive look +peculiar to women in its intuitive powers, but common to all +persons who had lived far from crowds and to whom a new-comer was +an event. Wade's gaze, intense and all-embracing, found that face +now closer in resemblance to the imagined Lucy's--a pretty face, +rather than beautiful, but strong and sweet--its striking qualities +being a colorless fairness of skin that yet held a rose and golden +tint, and the eyes of a rare and exquisite shade of blue.</p> +<p>"Oh! Are you feeling ill?" she asked. "You look so--so +pale."</p> +<p>"No. I'm only tuckered out," replied Wade, easily, as he wiped +the clammy drops from his brow. "It was a long ride to get +here."</p> +<p>"I'm the lady of the house," she said, with a smile. "I'm glad +to welcome you to White Slides, and hope you'll like it."</p> +<p>"Well, Miss Columbine, I reckon I will," he replied, returning +the smile. "Now if I was younger I'd like it powerful much."</p> +<p>She laughed at that. "Men are all alike, young or old."</p> +<p>"Don't ever think so," said Wade, earnestly.</p> +<p>"No? I guess you're right about that. I've fetched you up some +things for your cabin. May I peep in?"</p> +<p>"Come in," replied Wade, rising. "You must excuse my manners. +It's long indeed since I had a lady caller."</p> +<p>She went in, and Wade, standing on the threshold, saw her survey +the room with a woman's sweeping glance.</p> +<p>"I told dad to put some--"</p> +<p>"Miss, your dad told me to go get them, an' I've not done it +yet. But I will presently."</p> +<p>"Very well. I'll leave these things and come back later," she +replied, depositing a bundle upon the floor. "You won't mind if I +try to--to make you a little comfortable. It's dreadful the way +outdoor men live when they do get indoors."</p> +<p>"I reckon I'll be slow in lettin' you see what a good +housekeeper I am," he replied. "Because then, maybe, I'll see more +of you."</p> +<p>"Weren't you a sad flatterer in your day?" she queried, +archly.</p> +<p>Her intonation, the tilt of her head, gave Wade such a pang that +he could not answer. And to hide his momentary restraint he turned +back to the hounds. Then she came out upon the porch.</p> +<p>"I love hounds," she said, patting Denver, which caress +immediately made Jim and Sampson jealous. "I've gotten on pretty +well with these, but that Kane won't make up. Isn't he splendid? +But he's afraid--no, not afraid of me, but he doesn't like me."</p> +<p>"It's mistrust. He's been hurt. I reckon he'll get over that +after a while."</p> +<p>"You don't beat dogs?" she asked, eagerly.</p> +<p>"No, miss. That's not the way to get on with hounds or +horses."</p> +<p>Her glance was a blue flash of pleasure.</p> +<p>"How glad that makes me! Why, I quit coming here to see and feed +the dogs because somebody was always kicking them around."</p> +<p>Wade handed the rope to her. "You hold them, so when I come out +with some meat they won't pile over me." He went inside, took all +that was left of the deer haunch out of his pack, and, picking up +his knife, returned to the porch. The hounds saw the meat and +yelped. They pulled on the rope.</p> +<p>"You hounds behave," ordered Wade, as he sat down on the step +and began to cut the meat. "Jim, you're the oldest an' hungriest. +Here.... Now you, Sampson. Here!"... The big hound snapped at the +meat. Whereupon Wade slapped him. "Are you a pup or a wolf that you +grab for it? Here." Sampson was slower to act, but he snapped +again. Whereupon Wade hit him again, with open hand, not with +violence or rancor, but a blow that meant Sampson must obey.</p> +<p>Next time the hound did not snap. Denver had to be cuffed +several times before he showed deference to this new master. But +the bloodhound Kane refused to take any meat out of Wade's hand. He +growled and showed his teeth, and sniffed hungrily.</p> +<p>"Kane will have to be handled carefully," observed Wade. "He'd +bite pretty quick."</p> +<p>"But, he's so splendid," said the girl. "I don't like to think +he's mean. You'll be good to him--try to win him?"</p> +<p>"I'll do my best with him."</p> +<p>"Dad's full of glee that he has a real hunter at White Slides at +last. Now I'm glad, and sorry, too. I hate to think of little +calves being torn and killed by lions and wolves. And it's dreadful +to know bears eat grown-up cattle. But I love the mourn of a wolf +and the yelp of a coyote. I can't help hoping you don't kill them +all--quite."</p> +<p>"It's not likely, miss," he replied. "I'll be pretty sure to +clean out the lions an' drive off the bears. But the wolf family +can't be exterminated. No animal so cunnin' as a wolf!... I'll tell +you.... Some years ago I went to cook on a ranch north of Denver, +on the edge of the plains. An' right off I began to hear stories +about a big lobo--a wolf that was an old residenter. He'd been +known for long, an' he got meaner an' wiser as he was hunted. His +specialty got to be yearlings, an' the ranchers all over rose up in +arms against him. They hired all the old hunters an' trappers in +the country to kill him. No good! Old Lobo went right on pullin' +down yearlings. Every night he'd get one or more. An' he was so +cute an' so swift that he'd work on different ranches on different +nights. Finally he killed eleven yearlings for my boss on one +night. Eleven! Think of that. An' then I said to my boss, 'I reckon +you'd better let me go kill that gray butcher.' An' my boss laughed +at me. But he let me go. He'd have tried anythin'. I took a hunk of +meat, a blanket, my gun, an' a pair of snow-shoes, an' I set out on +old Lobo's tracks.... An', Miss Columbine, I <i>walked</i> old Lobo +to death in the snow!"</p> +<p>"Why, how wonderful!" exclaimed the girl, breathless and glowing +with interest. "Oh, it seems a pity such a splendid brute should be +killed. Wild animals are cruel. I wish it were different."</p> +<p>"Life is cruel, miss, an' I echo your wish," replied Wade, +sadly.</p> +<p>"You have had great experiences. Dad said to me, 'Collie, here +at last is a man who can tell you enough stories!'... But I don't +believe you ever could."</p> +<p>"You like stories?" asked Wade, curiously.</p> +<p>"Love them. All kinds, but I like adventure best. <i>I</i> +should have been a boy. Isn't it strange, I can't hurt anything +myself or bear to see even a steer slaughtered? But you can't tell +too bloody and terrible stories for me. Except I hate Indian +stories. The very thought of Indians makes me shudder.... Some day +I'll tell you a story."</p> +<p>Wade could not find his tongue readily.</p> +<p>"I must go now," she continued, and moved off the porch. Then +she hesitated, and turned with a smile that was wistful and +impulsive. "I--I believe we'll be good friends."</p> +<p>"Miss Columbine, we sure will, if I can live up to my part," +replied Wade.</p> +<p>Her smile deepened, even while her gaze grew unconsciously +penetrating. Wade felt how subtly they were drawn to each other. +But she had no inkling of that.</p> +<p>"It takes two to make a bargain," she replied, seriously. "I've +my part. Good-by."</p> +<p>Wade watched her lithe stride, and as she drew away the +restraint he had put upon himself loosened. When she disappeared +his feeling burst all bounds. Dragging the dogs inside, he closed +the door. Then, like one broken and spent, he fell face against the +wall, with the hoarsely whispered words, "I'm thankin' God!"</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2> +<br> +<p>September's glory of gold and red and purple began to fade with +the autumnal equinox. It rained enough to soak the frost-bitten +leaves, and then the mountain winds sent them flying and fluttering +and scurrying to carpet the dells and spot the pools in the brooks +and color the trails. When the weather cleared and the sun rose +bright again many of the aspen thickets were leafless and bare, and +the willows showed stark against the gray sage hills, and the vines +had lost their fire. Hills and valleys had sobered with subtle +change that left them none the less beautiful.</p> +<p>A mile or more down the road from White Slides, in a protected +nook, nestled two cabins belonging to a cattleman named Andrews, +who had formerly worked for Belllounds and had recently gone into +the stock business for himself. He had a rather young wife, and +several children, and a brother who rode for him. These people were +the only neighbors of Belllounds for some ten miles on the road +toward Kremmling.</p> +<p>Columbine liked Mrs. Andrews and often rode or walked down there +for a little visit and a chat with her friend and a romp with the +children.</p> +<p>Toward the end of September Columbine found herself combating a +strong desire to go down to the Andrews ranch and try to learn some +news about Wilson Moore. If anything had been heard at White Slides +it certainly had not been told her. Jack Belllounds had ridden to +Kremmling and back in one day, but Columbine would have endured +much before asking him for information.</p> +<p>She did, however, inquire of the freighter who hauled +Belllounds's supplies, and the answer she got was awkwardly +evasive. That nettled Columbine. Also it raised a suspicion which +she strove to subdue. Finally it seemed apparent that Wilson +Moore's name was not to be mentioned to her.</p> +<p>First, in her growing resentment, she had an impulse to go to +her new friend, the hunter Wade, and confide in him not only her +longing to learn about Wilson, but also other matters that were +growing daily more burdensome. How strange for her to feel that in +some way Jack Belllounds had come between her and the old man she +loved and called father! Columbine had not divined that until +lately. She felt it now in the fact that she no longer sought the +rancher as she used to, and he had apparently avoided her. But +then, Columbine reflected, she might be entirely wrong, for when +Belllounds did meet her at meal-times, or anywhere, he seemed just +as affectionate as of old. Still he was not the same man. A chill, +an atmosphere of shadow, had pervaded the once wholesome ranch. And +so, feeling not yet well enough acquainted with Wade to confide so +intimately in him, she stifled her impulses and resolved to make +some effort herself to find out what she wanted to know.</p> +<p>As luck would have it, when she started out to walk down to the +Andrews ranch she encountered Jack Belllounds.</p> +<p>"Where are you going?" he inquired, inquisitively.</p> +<p>"I'm going to see Mrs. Andrews," she replied.</p> +<p>"No, you're not!" he declared, quickly, with a flash.</p> +<p>Columbine felt a queer sensation deep within her, a hot little +gathering that seemed foreign to her physical being, and ready to +burst out. Of late it had stirred in her at words or acts of Jack +Belllounds. She gazed steadily at him, and he returned her look +with interest. What he was thinking she had no idea of, but for +herself it was a recurrence and an emphasis of the fact that she +seemed growing farther away from this young man she had to marry. +The weeks since his arrival had been the most worrisome she could +remember.</p> +<p>"I <i>am</i> going," she replied, slowly.</p> +<p>"No!" he replied, violently. "I won't have you running off down +there to--to gossip with that Andrews woman."</p> +<p>"Oh, <i>you</i> won't?" inquired Columbine, very quietly. How +little he understood her!</p> +<p>"That's what I said."</p> +<p>"You're not my boss yet, Mister Jack Belllounds," she flashed, +her spirit rising. He could irritate her as no one else.</p> +<p>"I soon will be. And what's a matter of a week or a month?" he +went on, calming down a little.</p> +<p>"I've promised, yes," she said, feeling her face blanch, "and I +keep my promises.... But I didn't say when. If you talk like that +to me it might be a good many weeks--or--or months before I name +the day."</p> +<p>"<i>Columbine!</i>" he cried, as she turned away. There was +genuine distress in his voice. Columbine felt again an assurance +that had troubled her. No matter how she was reacting to this new +relation, it seemed a fearful truth that Jack was really falling in +love with her. This time she did not soften.</p> +<p>"I'll call dad to <i>make</i> you stay home," he burst out +again, his temper rising.</p> +<p>Columbine wheeled as on a pivot.</p> +<p>"If you do you've got less sense than I thought."</p> +<br> +<a name="p096.jpg"></a> +<p class="ctr"><a href="images/p096.jpg"><img src="images/p096.jpg" +width="60%" alt=""></a><br> +<b>"I know why you're going. It's to see that club-footed cowboy +Moore!...<br> +Don't let me catch you with him."</b></p> +<br> +<p>Passion claimed him then.</p> +<p>"I know why you're going. It's to see that club-footed cowboy +Moore!... Don't let me catch you with him!"</p> +<p>Columbine turned her back upon Belllounds and swung away, every +pulse in her throbbing and smarting. She hurried on into the road. +She wanted to run, not to get out of sight or hearing, but to fly +from something, she knew not what.</p> +<p>"Oh! it's more than his temper!" she cried, hot tears in her +eyes. "He's mean--<i>mean</i>--MEAN! What's the use of me denying +that--any more--just because I love dad?... My life will be +wretched.... It <i>is</i> wretched!"</p> +<p>Her anger did not last long, nor did her resentment. She +reproached herself for the tart replies that had inflamed Jack. +Never again would she forget herself!</p> +<p>"But he--he makes me furious," she cried, in sudden excuse for +herself. "What did he say? 'That club-footed cowboy Moore'!... Oh, +that was vile. He's heard, then, that poor Wilson has a bad foot, +perhaps permanently crippled.... If it's true.... But why should he +yell that he knew I wanted to see Wilson?... I did <i>not!</i> I +<i>do</i> not.... Oh, but I do, I do!"</p> +<p>And then Columbine was to learn straightway that she would +forget herself again, that she had forgotten, and that a sadder, +stranger truth was dawning upon her--she was discovering another +Columbine within herself, a wilful, passionate, different creature +who would no longer be denied.</p> +<p>Almost before Columbine realized that she had started upon the +visit she was within sight of the Andrews ranch. So swiftly had she +walked! It behooved her to hide such excitement as had dominated +her. And to that end she slowed her pace, trying to put her mind on +other matters.</p> +<p>The children saw her first and rushed upon her, so that when she +reached the cabin door she could not well have been otherwise than +rosy and smiling. Mrs. Andrews, ruddy and strong, looked the +pioneer rancher's hard-working wife. Her face brightened at the +advent of Columbine, and showed a little surprise and curiosity as +well.</p> +<p>"Laws, but it's good to see you, Columbine," was her greeting. +"You 'ain't been here for a long spell."</p> +<p>"I've been coming, but just put it off," replied Columbine.</p> +<p>And so, after the manner of women neighbors, they began to talk +of the fall round-up, and the near approach of winter with its +loneliness, and the children, all of which naturally led to more +personal and interesting topics.</p> +<p>"An' is it so, Columbine, that you're to marry Jack Belllounds?" +asked Mrs. Andrews, presently.</p> +<p>"Yes, I guess it is," replied Columbine, smiling.</p> +<p>"Humph! I'm no relative of yours or even a particular, close +friend, but I'd like to say--"</p> +<p>"Please don't," interposed Columbine.</p> +<p>"All right, my girl. I guess it's better I don't say anythin'. +It's a pity, though, onless you love this Buster Jack. An' you +never used to do that, I'll swan."</p> +<p>"No, I don't love Jack--yet--as I ought to love a husband. But +I'll try, and if--if I--I never do--still, it's my duty to marry +him."</p> +<p>"Some woman ought to talk to Bill Belllounds," declared Mrs. +Andrews with a grimness that boded ill for the old rancher.</p> +<p>"Did you know we had a new man up at the ranch?" asked +Columbine, changing the subject.</p> +<p>"You mean the hunter, Hell-Bent Wade?"</p> +<p>"Yes. But I hate that ridiculous name," said Columbine.</p> +<p>"It's queer, like lots of names men get in these parts. An' +it'll stick. Wade's been here twice; once as he was passin' with +the hounds, an' the other night. I like him, Columbine. He's +true-blue, for all his strange name. My men-folks took to him like +ducks to water."</p> +<p>"I'm glad. I took to him almost like that," rejoined Columbine. +"He has the saddest face I ever saw."</p> +<p>"Sad? Wal, yes. That man has seen a good deal of what they +tacked on to his name. I laughed when I seen him first. Little lame +fellar, crooked-legged an' ragged, with thet awful homely face! But +I forgot how he looked next time he came."</p> +<p>"That's just it. He's not much to look at, but you forget his +homeliness right off," replied Columbine, warmly. "You feel +something behind all his--his looks."</p> +<p>"Wal, you an' me are women, an' we feel different," replied Mrs. +Andrews. "Now my men-folks take much store on what Wade can +<i>do</i>. He fixed up Tom's gun, that's been out of whack for a +year. He made our clock run ag'in, an' run better than ever. Then +he saved our cow from that poison-weed. An' Tom gave her up to +die."</p> +<p>"The boys up home were telling me Mr. Wade had saved some of our +cattle. Dad was delighted. You know he's lost a good many head of +stock from this poison-weed. I saw so many dead steers on my last +ride up the mountain. It's too bad our new man didn't get here +sooner to save them. I asked him how he did it, and he said he was +a doctor."</p> +<p>"A cow-doctor," laughed Mrs. Andrews. "Wal, that's a new one on +me. Accordin' to Tom, this here Wade, when he seen our sick cow, +said she'd eat poison-weed--larkspur, I think he called it--an' +then when she drank water it formed a gas in her stomach an' she +swelled up turrible. Wade jest stuck his knife in her side a little +an' let the gas out, and she got well."</p> +<p>"Ughh!... What cruel doctoring! But if it saves the cattle, then +it's good."</p> +<p>"It'll save them if they can be got to right off," replied Mrs. +Andrews.</p> +<p>"Speaking of doctors," went on Columbine, striving to make her +query casual, "do you know whether or not Wilson Moore had his foot +treated by a doctor at Kremmling?"</p> +<p>"He did not," answered Mrs. Andrews. "Wasn't no doctor there. +They'd had to send to Denver, an', as Wils couldn't take that trip +or wait so long, why, Mrs. Plummer fixed up his foot. She made a +good job of it, too, as I can testify."</p> +<p>"Oh, I'm--very thankful!" murmured Columbine. "He'll not be +crippled or--or club-footed, then?"</p> +<p>"I reckon not. You can see for yourself. For Wils's here. He was +drove up night before last an' is stayin' with my +brother-in-law--in the other cabin there."</p> +<p>Mrs. Andrews launched all this swiftly, with evident pleasure, +but with more of woman's subtle motive. Her eyes were bent with +shrewd kindness upon the younger woman.</p> +<p>"Here!" exclaimed Columbine, with a start, and for an instant +she was at the mercy of conflicting surprise and joy and alarm. +Alternately she flushed and paled.</p> +<p>"Sure he's here," replied Mrs. Andrews, now looking out of the +door. "He ought to be in sight somewheres. He's walkin' with a +crutch."</p> +<p>"Crutch!" cried Columbine, in dismay.</p> +<p>"Yes, crutch, an' he made it himself.... I don't see him +nowheres. Mebbe he went in when he see you comin'. For he's +powerful sensitive about that crutch."</p> +<p>"Then--if he's so--so sensitive, perhaps I'd better go," said +Columbine, struggling with embarrassment and discomfiture. What if +she happened to meet him! Would he imagine her purpose in coming +there? Her heart began to beat unwontedly.</p> +<p>"Suit yourself, lass," replied Mrs. Andrews, kindly. "I know you +and Wils quarreled, for he told me. An' it's a pity.... Wal, if you +must go, I hope you'll come again before the snow flies. +Good-by."</p> +<p>Columbine bade her a hurried good-by and ventured forth with +misgivings. And almost around the corner of the second cabin, which +she had to pass, and before she had time to recover her composure, +she saw Wilson Moore, hobbling along on a crutch, holding a +bandaged foot off the ground. He had seen her; he was hurrying to +avoid a meeting, or to get behind the corrals there before she +observed him.</p> +<p>"Wilson!" she called, involuntarily. The instant the name left +her lips she regretted it. But too late! The cowboy halted, slowly +turned.</p> +<p>Then Columbine walked swiftly up to him, suddenly as brave as +she had been fearful. Sight of him had changed her.</p> +<p>"Wilson Moore, you meant to avoid me," she said, with +reproach.</p> +<p>"Howdy, Columbine!" he drawled, ignoring her words.</p> +<p>"Oh, I was so sorry you were hurt!" she burst out. "And now I'm +so glad--you're--you're ... Wilson, you're thin and pale--you've +suffered!"</p> +<p>"It pulled me down a bit," he replied.</p> +<p>Columbine had never before seen his face anything except bronzed +and lean and healthy, but now it bore testimony to pain and strain +and patient endurance. He looked older. Something in the fine, +dark, hazel eyes hurt her deeply.</p> +<p>"You never sent me word," she went on, reproachfully. "No one +would tell me anything. The boys said they didn't know. Dad was +angry when I asked him. I'd never have asked Jack. And the +freighter who drove up--he lied to me. So I came down here to-day +purposely to ask news of you, but I never dreamed you were here.... +Now I'm glad I came."</p> +<p>What a singular, darkly kind, yet strange glance he gave +her!</p> +<p>"That was like you, Columbine," he said. "I knew you'd feel +badly about my accident. But how could I send word to you?"</p> +<p>"You saved--Pronto," she returned, with a strong tremor in her +voice. "I can't thank you enough."</p> +<p>"That was a funny thing. Pronto went out of his head. I hope +he's all right."</p> +<p>"He's almost well. It took some time to pick all the splinters +out of him. He'll be all right soon--none the worse for that--that +cowboy trick of Mister Jack Belllounds."</p> +<p>Columbine finished bitterly. Moore turned his thoughtful gaze +away from her.</p> +<p>"I hope Old Bill is well," he remarked, lamely.</p> +<p>"Have you told your folks of your accident?" asked Columbine, +ignoring his remark.</p> +<p>"No."</p> +<p>"Oh, Wilson, you ought to have sent for them, or have written at +least."</p> +<p>"Me? To go crying for them when I got in trouble? I couldn't see +it that way."</p> +<p>"Wilson, you'll be going--home--soon--to Denver--won't you?" she +faltered.</p> +<p>"No," he replied, shortly.</p> +<p>"But what will you do? Surely you can't work--not so soon?"</p> +<p>"Columbine, I'll never--be able to ride again--like I used to," +he said, tragically. "I'll ride, yes, but never the old way."</p> +<p>"Oh!" Columbine's tone, and the exquisite softness and +tenderness with which she placed a hand on the rude crutch would +have been enlightening to any one but these two absorbed in +themselves. "I can't bear to believe that."</p> +<p>"I'm afraid it's true. Bad smash, Columbine! I just missed being +club-footed."</p> +<p>"You should have care. You should have.... Wilson, do you intend +to stay here with the Andrews?"</p> +<p>"Not much. They have troubles of their own. Columbine, I'm going +to homestead one hundred and sixty acres."</p> +<p>"Homestead!" she exclaimed, in amaze. "Where?"</p> +<p>"Up there under Old White Slides. I've long intended to. You +know that pretty little valley under the red bluff. There's a fine +spring. You've been there with me. There by the old cabin built by +prospectors?"</p> +<p>"Yes, I know. It's a pretty place--fine valley, but Wils, you +can't <i>live</i> there," she expostulated.</p> +<p>"Why not, I'd like to know?"</p> +<p>"That little cubby-hole! It's only a tiny one-room cabin, roof +all gone, chinks open, chimney crumbling.... Wilson, you don't mean +to tell me you want to live there alone?"</p> +<p>"Sure. What 'd you think?" he replied, with sarcasm.</p> +<p>"Expect me to <i>marry</i> some girl? Well, I wouldn't, even if +any one would have a cripple."</p> +<p>"Who--who will take care of you?" she asked, blushing +furiously.</p> +<p>"I'll take care of myself," he declared. "Good Lord! Columbine, +I'm not an invalid yet. I've got a few friends who'll help me fix +up the cabin. And that reminds me. There's a lot of my stuff up in +the bunk-house at White Slides. I'm going to drive up soon to haul +it away."</p> +<p>"Wilson Moore, do you mean it?" she asked, with grave wonder. +"Are you going to homestead near White Slides Ranch--and +<i>live</i> there--when--"</p> +<p>She could not finish. An overwhelming disaster, for which she +had no name, seemed to be impending.</p> +<p>"Yes, I am," he replied. "Funny how things turn out, isn't +it?"</p> +<p>"It's very--very funny," she said, dazedly, and she turned +slowly away without another word.</p> +<p>"Good-by, Columbine," he called out after her, with farewell, +indeed, in his voice.</p> +<p>All the way home Columbine was occupied with feelings that +swayed her to the exclusion of rational consideration of the +increasing perplexity of her situation. And to make matters worse, +when she arrived at the ranch it was to meet Jack Belllounds with a +face as black as a thunder-cloud.</p> +<p>"The old man wants to see you," he announced, with an accent +that recalled his threat of a few hours back.</p> +<p>"Does he?" queried Columbine, loftily. "From the courteous way +you speak I imagine it's important."</p> +<p>Belllounds did not deign to reply to this. He sat on the porch, +where evidently he had awaited her return, and he looked anything +but happy.</p> +<p>"Where is dad?" continued Columbine.</p> +<p>Jack motioned toward the second door, beyond which he sat, the +one that opened into the room the rancher used as a kind of office +and storeroom. As Columbine walked by Jack he grasped her +skirt.</p> +<p>"Columbine! you're angry?" he said, appealingly.</p> +<p>"I reckon I am," replied Columbine.</p> +<p>"Don't go in to dad when you're that way," implored Jack. "He's +angry, too--and--and--it'll only make matters worse."</p> +<p>From long experience Columbine could divine when Jack had done +something in the interest of self and then had awakened to possible +consequences. She pulled away from him without replying, and +knocked on the office door.</p> +<p>"Come in," called the rancher.</p> +<p>Columbine went in. "Hello, dad! Do you want me?"</p> +<p>Belllounds sat at an old table, bending over a soiled ledger, +with a stubby pencil in his huge hand. When he looked up Columbine +gave a little start.</p> +<p>"Where've you been?" he asked, gruffly.</p> +<p>"I've been calling on Mrs. Andrews," replied Columbine.</p> +<p>"Did you go thar to see her?"</p> +<p>"Why--certainly!" answered Columbine, with a slow break in her +speech.</p> +<p>"You didn't go to meet Wilson Moore?"</p> +<p>"No."</p> +<p>"An' I reckon you'll say you hadn't heerd he was there?"</p> +<p>"I had not," flashed Columbine.</p> +<p>"Wal, <i>did</i> you see him?"</p> +<p>"Yes, sir, I did, but quite by accident."</p> +<p>"Ahuh! Columbine, are you lyin' to me?"</p> +<p>The hot blood flooded to Columbine's cheeks, as if she had been +struck a blow.</p> +<p>"<i>Dad</i>!" she cried, in hurt amaze.</p> +<p>Belllounds seemed thick, imponderable, as if something had +forced a crisis in him and his brain was deeply involved. The +habitual, cool, easy, bold, and frank attitude in the meeting of +all situations seemed to have been encroached upon by a break, a +bewilderment, a lessening of confidence.</p> +<p>"Wal, are you lyin'?" he repeated, either blind to or unaware of +her distress.</p> +<p>"I could not--lie to you," she faltered, "even--if--I wanted +to."</p> +<p>The heavy, shadowed gaze of his big eyes was bent upon her as if +she had become a new and perplexing problem.</p> +<p>"But you seen Moore?"</p> +<p>"Yes--sir." Columbine's spirit rose.</p> +<p>"An' talked with him?"</p> +<p>"Of course."</p> +<p>"Lass, I ain't likin' thet, an' I ain't likin' the way you look +an' speak."</p> +<p>"I am sorry. I can't help either."</p> +<p>"What'd this cowboy say to you?"</p> +<p>"We talked mostly about his injured foot."</p> +<p>"An' what else?" went on Belllounds, his voice rising.</p> +<p>"About--what he meant to do now."</p> +<p>"Ahuh! An' thet's homesteadin' the Sage Creek Valley?"</p> +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> +<p>"Did you want him to do thet?"</p> +<p>"I! Indeed I didn't."</p> +<p>"Columbine, not so long ago you told me this fellar wasn't sweet +on you. An' do you still say that to me--are you still insistin' he +ain't in love with you?"</p> +<p>"He never said so--I never believed it ... and now I'm sure--he +isn't!"</p> +<p>"Ahuh! Wal, thet same day you was jest as sure you didn't care +anythin' particular fer him. Are you thet sure now?"</p> +<p>"No!" whispered Columbine, very low. She trembled with a +suggestion of unknown forces. Not to save a new and growing pride +would she evade any question from this man upon whom she had no +claim, to whom she owed her life and her bringing up. But something +cold formed in her.</p> +<p>Belllounds, self-centered and serious as he strangely was, +seemed to check his probing, either from fear of hearing more from +her or from an awakening of former kindness. But her reply was a +shock to him, and, throwing down his pencil with the gesture of a +man upon whom decision was forced, he rose to tower over her.</p> +<p>"You've been like a daughter to me. I've done all I knowed how +fer you. I've lived up to the best of my lights. An' I've loved +you," he said, sonorously and pathetically. "You know what my hopes +are--fer the boy--an' fer you.... We needn't waste any more talk. +From this minnit you're free to do as you like. Whatever you do +won't make any change in my carin' fer you.... But you gotta +decide. Will you marry Jack or not?"</p> +<p>"I promised you--I would. I'll keep my word," replied Columbine, +steadily.</p> +<p>"So far so good," went on the rancher. "I'm respectin' you fer +what you say.... An' now, <i>when</i> will you marry him?"</p> +<p>The little room drifted around in Columbine's vague, blank +sight. All seemed to be drifting. She had no solid anchor.</p> +<p>"Any--day you say--the sooner the--better," she whispered.</p> +<p>"Wal, lass, I'm thankin' you," he replied, with voice that +sounded afar to her. "An' I swear, if I didn't believe it's best +fer Jack an' you, why I'd never let you marry.... So we'll set the +day. October first! Thet's the day you was fetched to me a +baby--more'n seventeen years ago."</p> +<p>"October--first--then, dad," she said, brokenly, and she kissed +him as if in token of what she knew she owed him. Then she went +out, closing the door behind her.</p> +<p>Jack, upon seeing her, hastily got up, with more than concern in +his pale face.</p> +<p>"Columbine!" he cried, hoarsely. "How you look!... Tell me. What +happened? Girl, don't tell me you've--you've--"</p> +<p>"Jack Belllounds," interrupted Columbine, in tragic amaze at +this truth about to issue from her lips, "I've promised to marry +you--on October first."</p> +<p>He let out a shout of boyish exultation and suddenly clasped her +in his arms. But there was nothing boyish in the way he handled +her, in the almost savage evidence of possession. "Collie, I'm mad +about you," he began, ardently. "You never let me tell you. And +I've grown worse and worse. To-day I--when I saw you going down +there--where that Wilson Moore is--I got terribly jealous. I was +sick. I'd been glad to kill him!... It made me see how I loved you. +Oh, I didn't know. But now ... Oh, I'm mad for you!" He crushed her +to him, unmindful of her struggles; his face and neck were red; his +eyes on fire. And he began trying to kiss her mouth, but failed, as +she struggled desperately. His kisses fell upon cheek and ear and +hair.</p> +<p>"Let me--go!" panted Columbine. "You've no--no--Oh, you might +have waited." Breaking from him, she fled, and got inside her room +with the door almost closed, when his foot intercepted it.</p> +<p>Belllounds was half laughing his exultation, half furious at her +escape, and altogether beside himself.</p> +<p>"No," she replied, so violently that it appeared to awake him to +the fact that there was some one besides himself to consider.</p> +<p>"Aw!" He heaved a deep sigh. "All right. I won't try to get in. +Only listen.... Collie, don't mind my--my way of showing you how I +felt. Fact is, I went plumb off my head. Is that any wonder, +you--you darling--when I've been so scared you'd never have me? +Collie, I've felt that you were the one thing in the world I wanted +most and would never get. But now.... October first! Listen. I +promise you I'll not drink any more--nor gamble--nor nag dad for +money. I don't like his way of running the ranch, but I'll do it, +as long as he lives. I'll even try to tolerate that club-footed +cowboy's brass in homesteading a ranch right under my nose. +I'll--I'll do anything you ask of me."</p> +<p>"Then--please--go away!" cried Columbine, with a sob.</p> +<p>When he was gone Columbine barred the door and threw herself +upon her bed to shut out the light and to give vent to her +surcharged emotions. She wept like a girl whose youth was ending; +and after the paroxysm had passed, leaving her weak and strangely +changed, she tried to reason out what had happened to her. Over and +over again she named the appeal of the rancher, the sense of her +duty, the decision she had reached, and the disgust and terror +inspired in her by Jack Belllounds's reception of her promise. +These were facts of the day and they had made of her a palpitating, +unhappy creature, who nevertheless had been brave to face the +rancher and confess that which she had scarce confessed to herself. +But now she trembled and cringed on the verge of a catastrophe that +withheld its whole truth.</p> +<p>"I begin to see now," she whispered, after the thought had come +and gone and returned to change again. "If Wilson had--cared for me +I--I might have--cared, too.... But I do--care--something. I +couldn't lie to dad. Only I'm not sure--how much. I never dreamed +of--of <i>loving</i> him, or any one. It's so strange. All at once +I feel old. And I can't understand these--these feelings that shake +me."</p> +<p>So Columbine brooded over the trouble that had come to her, +never regretting her promise to the old rancher, but growing keener +in the realization of a complexity in her nature that sooner or +later would separate the life of her duty from the life of her +desire. She seemed all alone, and when this feeling possessed her a +strange reminder of the hunter Wade flashed up. She stifled another +impulse to confide in him. Wade had the softness of a woman, and +his face was a record of the trials and travails through which he +had come unhardened, unembittered. Yet how could she tell her +troubles to him? A stranger, a rough man of the wilds, whose name +had preceded him, notorious and deadly, with that vital tang of the +West in its meaning! Nevertheless, Wade drew her, and she thought +of him until the recurring memory of Jack Belllounds's rude clasp +again crept over her with an augmenting disgust and fear. Must she +submit to that? Had she promised that? And then Columbine felt the +dawning of realities.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII</h2> +<br> +<p>Columbine was awakened in the gray dawn by the barking of +coyotes. She dreaded the daylight thus heralded. Never before in +her life had she hated the rising of the sun. Resolutely she put +the past behind her and faced the future, believing now that with +the great decision made she needed only to keep her mind off what +might have been, and to attend to her duty.</p> +<p>At breakfast she found the rancher in better spirits than he had +been for weeks. He informed her that Jack had ridden off early for +Kremmling, there to make arrangements for the wedding on October +first.</p> +<p>"Jack's out of his head," said Belllounds. "Wal, thet comes only +onct in a man's life. I remember ... Jack's goin' to drive you to +Kremmlin' an' ther take stage fer Denver. I allow you'd better put +in your best licks on fixin' up an' packin' the clothes you'll +need. Women-folk naturally want to look smart on +weddin'-trips."</p> +<p>"Dad!" exclaimed Columbine, in dismay. "I never thought of +clothes. And I don't want to leave White Slides."</p> +<p>"But, lass, you're goin' to be married!" expostulated +Belllounds.</p> +<p>"Didn't it occur to Jack to take me to Kremmling? I can't make +new dresses out of old ones."</p> +<p>"Wal, I reckon neither of us thought of thet. But you can buy +what you like in Denver."</p> +<p>Columbine resigned herself. After all, what did it matter to +her? The vague, haunting dreams of girlhood would never come true. +So she went to her wardrobe and laid out all her wearing apparel. +Taking stock of it this way caused her further dismay, for she had +nothing fit to wear in which either to be married or to take a trip +to Denver. There appeared to be nothing to do but take the +rancher's advice, and Columbine set about refurbishing her meager +wardrobe. She sewed all day.</p> +<p>What with self-control and work and the passing of hours, +Columbine began to make some approach to tranquillity. In her +simplicity she even began to hope that being good and steadfast and +dutiful would earn her a little meed of happiness. Some haunting +doubt of this flashed over her mind like a swift shadow of a black +wing, but she dispelled that as she had dispelled the fear and +disgust which often rose up in her mind.</p> +<p>To Columbine's surprise and to the rancher's concern the +prospective bridegroom did not return from Kremmling on the second +day. When night came Belllounds reluctantly gave up looking for +him.</p> +<p>Jack's non-appearance suited Columbine, and she would have been +glad to be let alone until October first, which date now seemed +appallingly close. On the afternoon of Jack's third day of absence +from the ranch Columbine rode out for some needed exercise. Pronto +not being available, she rode another mustang and one that kept her +busy. On the way back to the ranch she avoided the customary trail +which led by the cabins of Wade and the cowboys. Columbine had not +seen one of her friends since the unfortunate visit to the Andrews +ranch. She particularly shrank from meeting Wade, which feeling was +in strange contrast to her former impulses.</p> +<p>As she rode around the house she encountered Wilson Moore seated +in a light wagon. Her mustang reared, almost unseating her. But she +handled him roughly, being suddenly surprised and angry at this +unexpected meeting with the cowboy.</p> +<p>"Howdy, Columbine!" greeted Wilson, as she brought the mustang +to his feet. "You're sure learning to handle a horse--since I left +this here ranch. Wonder who's teaching you! I never could get you +to rake even a bronc!"</p> +<p>The cowboy had drawled out his admiring speech, half amused and +half satiric.</p> +<p>"I'm--mad!" declared Columbine. "That's why."</p> +<p>"What're you mad at?" queried Wilson.</p> +<p>She did not reply, but kept on gazing steadily at him. Moore +still looked pale and drawn, but he had improved since last she saw +him.</p> +<p>"Aren't you going to speak to a fellow?" he went on.</p> +<p>"How are you, Wils?" she asked.</p> +<p>"Pretty good for a club-footed has-been cow puncher."</p> +<p>"I wish you wouldn't call yourself such names," rejoined +Columbine, peevishly. "You're not a club-foot. I hate that +word!"</p> +<p>"Me, too. Well, joking aside, I'm better. My foot is fine. Now, +if I don't hurt it again I'll sure never be a club-foot."</p> +<p>"You must be careful," she said, earnestly.</p> +<p>"Sure. But it's hard for me to be idle. Think of me lying still +all day with nothing to do but read! That's what knocked me out. I +wouldn't have minded the pain if I could have gotten about.... +Columbine, I've moved in!"</p> +<p>"What! Moved in?" she queried, blankly.</p> +<p>"Sure. I'm in my cabin on the hill. It's plumb great. Tom +Andrews and Bert and your hunter Wade fixed up the cabin for me. +That Wade is sure a good fellow. And say! what he can do with his +hands! He's been kind to me. Took an interest in me, and between +you and me he sort of cheered me up."</p> +<p>"Cheered you up! Wils, were you unhappy?" she asked, +directly.</p> +<p>"Well, rather. What'd you expect of a cowboy who'd crippled +himself--and lost his girl?"</p> +<p>Columbine felt the smart of tingling blood in her face, and she +looked from Wilson to the wagon. It contained saddles, blankets, +and other cowboy accoutrements for which he had evidently come.</p> +<p>"That's a double misfortune," she replied, evenly. "It's too bad +both came at once. It seems to me if I were a cowboy and--and felt +so toward a girl, I'd have let her know."</p> +<p>"This girl I mean knew, all right," he said, nodding his +head.</p> +<p>"She didn't--she didn't!" cried Columbine.</p> +<p>"How do you know?" he queried, with feigned surprise. He was +bent upon torturing her.</p> +<p>"You meant me. I'm the girl you lost!"</p> +<p>"Yes, you are--God help me!" replied Moore, with genuine +emotion.</p> +<p>"But you--you never told me--you never told me," faltered +Columbine, in distress.</p> +<p>"Never told you what? That you were my girl?"</p> +<p>"No--no. But that you--you cared--"</p> +<p>"Columbine Belllounds, I told you--let you see--in every way +under the sun," he flashed at her.</p> +<p>"Let me see--what?" faltered Columbine, feeling as if the world +were about to end.</p> +<p>"That I loved you."</p> +<p>"Oh!... Wilson!" whispered Columbine, wildly.</p> +<p>"Yes--loved you. Could you have been so innocent--so blind you +never knew? I can't believe it."</p> +<p>"But I never dreamed you--you--" She broke off dazedly, +overwhelmed by a tragic, glorious truth.</p> +<p>"Collie!... Would it have made any difference?"</p> +<p>"Oh, all the difference in the world!" she wailed.</p> +<p>"What difference?" he asked, passionately.</p> +<p>Columbine gazed wide-eyed and helpless at the young man. She did +not know how to tell him what all the difference in the world +really was.</p> +<p>Suddenly Wilson turned away from her to listen. Then she heard +rapid beating of hoofs on the road.</p> +<p>"That's Buster Jack," said the cowboy. "Just my luck! There +wasn't any one here when I arrived. Reckon I oughtn't have stayed. +Columbine, you look pretty much upset."</p> +<p>"What do I care how I look!" she exclaimed, with a sharp +resentment attending this abrupt and painful break in her +agitation.</p> +<p>Next moment Jack Belllounds galloped a foam-lashed horse into +the courtyard and hauled up short with a recklessness he was noted +for. He swung down hard and violently cast the reins from him.</p> +<p>"Ahuh! I gambled on just this," he declared, harshly.</p> +<p>Columbine's heart sank. His gaze was fixed on her face, with its +telltale evidences of agitation.</p> +<p>"What've you been crying about?" he demanded.</p> +<p>"I haven't been," she retorted.</p> +<p>His bold and glaring eyes, hot with sudden temper, passed slowly +from her to the cowboy. Columbine became aware then that Jack was +under the influence of liquor. His heated red face grew darker with +a sneering contempt.</p> +<p>"Where's dad?" he asked, wheeling toward her.</p> +<p>"I don't know. He's not here," replied Columbine, dismounting. +The leap of thought and blood to Jack's face gave her a further +sinking of the heart. The situation unnerved her.</p> +<p>Wilson Moore had grown a shade paler. He gathered up his reins, +ready to drive off.</p> +<p>"Belllounds, I came up after my things I'd left in the bunk," he +said, coolly. "Happened to meet Columbine and stopped to chat a +minute."</p> +<p>"That's what <i>you</i> say," sneered Belllounds. "You were +making love to Columbine. I saw that in her face. You know it--and +she knows it--and I know it.... You're a liar!"</p> +<p>"Belllounds, I reckon I am," replied Moore, turning white. "I +did tell Columbine what I thought she knew--what I ought to have +told long ago."</p> +<p>"Ahuh! Well, I don't want to hear it. But I'm going to search +that wagon."</p> +<p>"What!" ejaculated the cowboy, dropping his reins as if they +stung him.</p> +<p>"You just hold on till I see what you've got in there," went on +Belllounds, and he reached over into the wagon and pulled at a +saddle.</p> +<p>"Say, do you mean anything?... This stuff's mine, every strap of +it. Take your hands off."</p> +<p>Belllounds leaned on the wagon and looked up with insolent, dark +intent.</p> +<p>"Moore, I wouldn't trust you. I think you'd steal anything you +got your hands on."</p> +<p>Columbine uttered a passionate little cry of shame and +protest.</p> +<p>"Jack, how dare you!"</p> +<p>"You shut up! Go in the house!" he ordered.</p> +<p>"You insult me," she replied, in bitter humiliation.</p> +<p>"Will you go in?" he shouted.</p> +<p>"No, I won't."</p> +<p>"All right, look on, then. I'd just as lief have you." Then he +turned to the cowboy. "Moore, show up that wagon-load of stuff +unless you want me to throw it out in the road."</p> +<p>"Belllounds, you know I can't do that," replied Moore, coldly. +"And I'll give you a hunch. You'd better shut up yourself and let +me drive on.... If not for her sake, then for your own."</p> +<p>Belllounds grasped the reins, and with a sudden jerk pulled them +out of the cowboy's hands.</p> +<p>"You damn club-foot! Your gift of gab doesn't go with me," +yelled Belllounds, as he swung up on the hub of the wheel. But it +was manifest that his desire to search the wagon was only a +pretense, for while he pulled at this and that his evil gaze was on +the cowboy, keen to meet any move that might give excuse for +violence. Moore evidently read this, for, gazing at Columbine, he +shook his head, as if to acquaint her with a situation impossible +to help.</p> +<p>"Columbine, please hand me up the reins," he said. "I'm lame, +you know. Then I'll be going."</p> +<p>Columbine stepped forward to comply, when Belllounds, leaping +down from the wheel, pushed her hack with masterful hand. +Opposition to him was like waving a red flag in the face of a bull. +Columbine recoiled from his look as well as touch.</p> +<p>"You keep out of this or I'll teach you who's boss here," he +said, stridently.</p> +<p>"You're going too far!" burst out Columbine.</p> +<p>Meanwhile Wilson had laboriously climbed down out of the wagon, +and, utilizing his crutch, he hobbled to where Belllounds had +thrown the reins, and stooped to pick them up. Belllounds shoved +Columbine farther back, and then he leaped to confront the +cowboy.</p> +<p>"I've got you now, Moore," he said, hoarse and low. Stripped of +all pretense, he showed the ungovernable nature of his temper. His +face grew corded and black. The hand he thrust out shook like a +leaf. "You smooth-tongued liar! I'm on to your game. I know you'd +put her against me. I know you'd try to win her--less than a week +before her wedding-day.... But it's not for that I'm going to beat +hell out of you! It's because I hate you! Ever since I can remember +my father held you up to me! And he sent me to--to--he sent me away +because of you. By God! that's why I hate you!"</p> +<p>All that was primitive and violent and base came out with +strange frankness in Belllounds's tirade. Only when calm could his +mind be capable of hidden calculation. The devil that was in him +now seemed rampant.</p> +<p>"Belllounds, you're mighty brave to stack up this way against a +one-legged man," declared the cowboy, with biting sarcasm.</p> +<p>"If you had two club-feet I'd only be the gladder," yelled +Belllounds, and swinging his arm, he slapped Moore so that it +nearly toppled him over. Only the injured foot, coming down hard, +saved him.</p> +<p>When Columbine saw that, and then how Wilson winced and grew +deathly pale, she uttered a low cry, and she seemed suddenly rooted +to the spot, weak, terrified at what was now inevitable, and +growing sick and cold and faint.</p> +<p>"It's a damn lucky thing for you I'm not packing a gun," said +Moore, grimly. "But you knew--or you'd never hit me--you +coward."</p> +<p>"I'll make you swallow that," snarled Belllounds, and this time +he swung his fist, aiming a heavy blow at Moore.</p> +<p>Then the cowboy whirled aloft the heavy crutch. "If you hit at +me again I'll let out what little brains you've got. God knows +that's little enough!... Belllounds, I'm going to call you to your +face--before this girl your bat-eyed old man means to give you. +You're not drunk. You're only ugly--mean. You've got a chance now +to lick me because I'm crippled. And you're going to make the most +of it. Why, you cur, I could come near licking you with only one +leg. But if you touch me again I'll brain you!... You never were +any good. You're no good now. You never will be anything but Buster +Jack--half dotty, selfish as hell, bull-headed and mean!... And +that's the last word I'll ever waste on you."</p> +<p>"I'll kill you!" bawled Belllounds, black with fury.</p> +<p>Moore wielded the crutch menacingly, but as he was not steady on +his feet he was at the disadvantage his adversary had calculated +upon. Belllounds ran around the cowboy, and suddenly plunged in to +grapple with him. The crutch descended, but to little purpose. +Belllounds's heavy onslaught threw Moore to the ground. Before he +could rise Belllounds pounced upon him.</p> +<p>Columbine saw all this dazedly. As Wilson fell she closed her +eyes, fighting a faintness that almost overcame her. She heard +wrestling, threshing sounds, and sodden thumps, and a scattering of +gravel. These noises seemed at first distant, then grew closer. As +she gazed again with keener perception, Moore's horse plunged away +from the fiercely struggling forms that had rolled almost under his +feet. During the ensuing moments it was an equal battle so far as +Columbine could tell. Repelled, yet fascinated, she watched. They +beat each other, grappled and rolled over, first one on top, then +the other. But the advantage of being uppermost presently was +Belllounds's. Moore was weakening. That became noticeable more and +more after each time he had wrestled and rolled about. Then +Belllounds, getting this position, lay with his weight upon Moore, +holding him down, and at the same time kicking with all his might. +He was aiming to disable the cowboy by kicking the injured foot. +And he was succeeding. Moore let out a strangled cry, and struggled +desperately. But he was held and weighted down. Belllounds raised +up now and, looking backward, he deliberately and furiously kicked +Moore's bandaged foot; once, twice, again and again, until the +straining form under him grew limp. Columbine, slowly freezing with +horror, saw all this. She could not move. She could not scream. She +wanted to rush in and drag Jack off of Wilson, to hurt him, to kill +him, but her muscles were paralyzed. In her agony she could not +even look away. Belllounds got up astride his prostrate adversary +and began to beat him brutally, swinging heavy, sodden blows. His +face then was terrible to see. He meant murder.</p> +<p>Columbine heard approaching voices and the thumping of hasty +feet. That unclamped her cloven tongue. Wildly she screamed. Old +Bill Belllounds appeared, striding off the porch. And the hunter +Wade came running down the path.</p> +<p>"Dad! he's killing Wilson!" cried Columbine.</p> +<p>"Hyar, you devil!" roared the rancher.</p> +<p>Jack Belllounds got up. Panting, disheveled, with hair ruffled +and face distorted, he was not a pleasant sight for even the +father. Moore lay unconscious, with ghastly, bloody features, and +his bandaged foot showed great splotches of red.</p> +<p>"My Gawd, son!" gasped Old Bill. "You didn't pick on this hyar +crippled boy?"</p> +<p>The evidence was plain, in Moore's quiet, pathetic form, in the +panting, purple-faced son. Jack Belllounds did not answer. He was +in the grip of a passion that had at last been wholly unleashed and +was still unsatisfied. Yet a malignant and exultant gratification +showed in his face.</p> +<p>"That--evens us--up, Moore," he panted, and stalked away.</p> +<p>By this time Wade reached the cowboy and knelt beside him. +Columbine came running to fall on her knees. The old rancher seemed +stricken.</p> +<p>"Oh--Oh! it was terrible--" cried Columbine. "Oh--he's so +white--and the blood--"</p> +<p>"Now, lass, that's no way for a woman," said Wade, and there was +something in his kind tone, in his look, in his presence, that +calmed Columbine. "I'll look after Moore. You go get some water an' +a towel."</p> +<p>Columbine rose to totter into the house. She saw a red stain on +the hand she had laid upon the cowboy's face, and with a strange, +hot, bursting sensation, strong and thrilling, she put that red +place to her lips. Running out with the things required by Wade, +she was in time to hear the rancher say, "Looks hurt bad, to +me."</p> +<p>"Yes, I reckon," replied Wade.</p> +<p>While Columbine held Moore's head upon her lap the hunter bathed +the bloody face. It was battered and bruised and cut, and in some +places, as fast as Wade washed away the red, it welled out +again.</p> +<p>Columbine watched that quiet face, while her heart throbbed and +swelled with emotions wholly beyond her control and understanding. +When at last Wilson opened his eyes, fluttering at first, and then +wide, she felt a surge that shook her whole body. He smiled wanly +at her, and at Wade, and then his gaze lifted to Belllounds.</p> +<p>"I guess--he licked me," he said, in weak voice. "He kept +kicking my sore foot--till I fainted. But he licked me--all +right."</p> +<p>"Wils, mebbe he did lick you," replied the old rancher, +brokenly, "but I reckon he's damn little to be proud of--lickin' a +crippled man--thet way."</p> +<p>"Boss, Jack'd been drinking," said Moore, weakly. "And he sure +had--some excuse for going off his head. He caught me--talking +sweet to Columbine ... and then--I called him all the names--I +could lay my tongue to."</p> +<p>"Ahuh!" The old man seemed at a loss for words, and presently he +turned away, sagging in the shoulders, and plodded into the +house.</p> +<p>The cowboy, supported by Wade on one side, with Columbine on the +other, was helped to an upright position, and with considerable +difficulty was gotten into the wagon. He tried to sit up, but made +a sorry showing of it.</p> +<p>"I'll drive him home an' look after him," said Wade. "Now, Miss +Collie, you're upset, which ain't no wonder. But now you brace. It +might have been worse. Just you go to your room till you're sure of +yourself again."</p> +<p>Moore smiled another wan smile at her. "I'm sorry," he said.</p> +<p>"What for? Me?" she asked.</p> +<p>"I mean I'm sorry I was so infernal unlucky--running into +you--and bringing all this distress--to you. It was my fault. If +I'd only kept--my mouth shut!"</p> +<p>"You need not be sorry you met me," she said, with her eyes +straight upon his. "I'm glad.... But oh! if your foot is badly hurt +I'll never--never--'</p> +<p>"Don't say it," interrupted Wilson.</p> +<p>"Lass, you're bent on doin' somethin'," said Wade, in his gentle +voice.</p> +<p>"Bent?" she echoed, with something deep and rich in her voice. +"Yes, I'm bent--<i>bent</i> like your name--to speak my mind!"</p> +<p>Then she ran toward the house and up on the porch, to enter the +living-room with heaving breast and flashing eyes. Manifestly the +rancher was berating his son. The former gaped at sight of her and +the latter shrank.</p> +<p>"Jack Belllounds," she cried, "you're not half a man.... You're +a coward and a brute!"</p> +<p>One tense moment she stood there, lightning scorn and passion in +her gaze, and then she rushed out, impetuously, as she had +come.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h2> +<br> +<p>Columbine did not leave her room any more that day. What she +suffered there she did not want any one to know. What it cost her +to conquer herself again she had only a faint conception of. She +did conquer, however, and that night made up the sleep she had lost +the night before.</p> +<p>Strangely enough, she did not feel afraid to face the rancher +and his son. Recent happenings had not only changed her, but had +seemed to give her strength. When she presented herself at the +breakfast-table Jack was absent. The old rancher greeted her with +more thar usual solicitude.</p> +<p>"Jack's sick," he remarked, presently.</p> +<p>"Indeed," replied Columbine.</p> +<p>"Yes. He said it was the drinkin' he's not accustomed to. Wal, I +reckon it was what you called him. He didn't take much store on +what I called him, which was wuss.... I tell you, lass, Jack's set +his heart so hard on you thet it's turrible."</p> +<p>"Queer way he has of showing the--the affections of his heart," +replied Columbine, shortly.</p> +<p>"Thet was the drink," remonstrated the old man, pathetic and +earnest in his motive to smooth over the quarrel.</p> +<p>"But he promised me he would not drink any more."</p> +<p>Belllounds shook his gray old head sadly.</p> +<p>"Ahuh! Jack fires up an' promises anythin'. He means it at the +time. But the next hankerin' thet comes over him wipes out the +promise. I know.... But he's had good excuse fer this break. The +boys in town began celebratin' fer October first. Great wonder Jack +didn't come home clean drunk."</p> +<p>"Dad, you're as good as gold," said Columbine, softening. How +could she feel hard toward him?</p> +<p>"Collie, then you're not agoin' back on the ole man?"</p> +<p>"No."</p> +<p>"I was afeared you'd change your mind about marryin' Jack."</p> +<p>"When I promised I meant it. I didn't make it on +conditions."</p> +<p>"But, lass, promises can be broke," he said, with the sonorous +roll in his voice.</p> +<p>"I never yet broke one of mine."</p> +<p>"Wal, I hev. Not often, mebbe, but I hev.... An', lass, it's +reasonable. Thar's times when a man jest can't live up to what he +swore by. An' fer a girl--why, I can see how easy she'd change an' +grow overnight. It's only fair fer me to say that no matter what +you think you owe me you couldn't be blamed now fer dislikin' +Jack."</p> +<p>"Dad, if by marrying Jack I can help him to be a better son to +you, and more of a man, I'll be glad," she replied.</p> +<p>"Lass, I'm beginnin' to see how big an' fine you are," replied +Belllounds, with strong feeling. "An' it's worryin' me.... My +neighbors hev always accused me of seein' only my son. Only Buster +Jack! I was blind an' deaf as to him!... Wal, I'm not so damn blind +as I used to be. The scales are droppin' off my ole eyes.... But +I've got one hope left as far as Jack's concerned. Thet's marryin' +him to you. An' I'm stickin' to it."</p> +<p>"So will I stick to it, dad," she replied. "I'll go through with +October first!"</p> +<p>Columbine broke off, vouchsafing no more, and soon left the +breakfast-table, to take up the work she had laid out to do. And +she accomplished it, though many times her hands dropped idle and +her eyes peered out of her window at the drab slides of the old +mountain.</p> +<p>Later, when she went out to ride, she saw the cowboy Lem working +in the blacksmith shop.</p> +<p>"Wal, Miss Collie, air you-all still hangin' round this hyar +ranch?" he asked, with welcoming smile.</p> +<p>"Lem, I'm almost ashamed now to face my good friends, I've +neglected them so long," she replied.</p> +<p>"Aw, now, what're friends fer but to go to?... You're lookin' +pale, I reckon. More like thet thar flower I see so much on the +hills."</p> +<p>"Lem, I want to ride Pronto. Do you think he's all right, +now?"</p> +<p>"I reckon some movin' round will do Pronto good. He's eatin' his +haid off."</p> +<p>The cowboy went with her to the pasture gate and whistled Pronto +up. The mustang came trotting, evidently none the worse for his +injuries, and eager to resume the old climbs with his mistress. Lem +saddled him, paying particular attention to the cinch.</p> +<p>"Reckon we'd better not cinch him tight," said Lem. "You jest be +careful an' remember your saddle's loose."</p> +<p>"All right, Lem," replied Columbine, as she mounted. "Where are +the boys this morning?"</p> +<p>"Blud an' Jim air repairin' fence up the crick."</p> +<p>"And where's Ben?"</p> +<p>"Ben? Oh, you mean Wade. Wal, I 'ain't seen him since yestidday. +He was skinnin' a lion then, over hyar on the ridge. Thet was in +the mawnin'. I reckon he's around, fer I seen some of the +hounds."</p> +<p>"Then, Lem--you haven't heard about the fight yesterday between +Jack and Wilson Moore?"</p> +<p>Lem straightened up quickly. "Nope, I 'ain't heerd a word."</p> +<p>"Well, they fought, all right," said Columbine, hurriedly. "I +saw it. I was the only one there. Wilson was badly used up before +dad and Ben got there. Ben drove off with him."</p> +<p>"But, Miss Collie, how'd it come off? I seen Wils the other day. +Was up to his homestead. An' the boy jest manages to rustle round +on a crutch. He couldn't fight."</p> +<p>"That was just it. Jack saw his opportunity, and he forced +Wilson to fight--accused him of stealing. Wils tried to avoid +trouble. Then Jack jumped him. Wilson fought and held his own until +Jack began to kick his injured foot. Then Wilson fainted and--and +Jack beat him."</p> +<p>Lem dropped his head, evidently to hide his expression. "Wal, +dog-gone me!" he ejaculated. "Thet's too bad."</p> +<p>Columbine left the cowboy and rode up the lane toward Wade's +cabin. She did not analyze her deliberate desire to tell the truth +about that fight, but she would have liked to proclaim it to the +whole range and to the world. Once clear of the house she felt +free, unburdened, and to talk seemed to relieve some congestion of +her thoughts.</p> +<p>The hounds heralded Columbine's approach with a deep and booming +chorus. Sampson and Jim lay upon the porch, unleashed. The other +hounds were chained separately in the aspen grove a few rods +distant. Sampson thumped the boards with his big tail, but he did +not get up, which laziness attested to the fact that there had been +a lion chase the day before and he was weary and stiff. If Wade had +been at home he would have come out to see what had occasioned the +clamor. As Columbine rode by she saw another fresh lion-pelt pegged +upon the wall of the cabin.</p> +<p>She followed the brook. It had cleared since the rains and was +shining and sparkling in the rough, swift places, and limpid and +green in the eddies. She passed the dam made by the solitary beaver +that inhabited the valley. Freshly cut willows showed how the +beaver was preparing for the long winter ahead. Columbine +remembered then how greatly pleased Wade had been to learn about +this old beaver; and more than once Wade had talked about trapping +some younger beavers and bringing them there to make company for +the old fellow.</p> +<p>The trail led across the brook at a wide, shallow place, where +the splashing made by Pronto sent the trout scurrying for deeper +water. Columbine kept to that trail, knowing that it led up into +Sage Valley, where Wilson Moore had taken up the homestead +property. Fresh horse tracks told her that Wade had ridden along +there some time earlier. Pronto shied at the whirring of sage-hens. +Presently Columbine ascertained they were flushed by the hound +Kane, that had broken loose and followed her. He had done so +before, and the fact had not displeased her.</p> +<p>"Kane! Kane! come here!" she called. He came readily, but halted +a rod or so away, and made an attempt at wagging his tail, a +function evidently somewhat difficult for him. When she resumed +trotting he followed her.</p> +<p>Old White Slides had lost all but the drabs and dull yellows and +greens, and of course those pale, light slopes that had given the +mountain its name. Sage Valley was only one of the valleys at its +base. It opened out half a mile wide, dominated by the looming +peak, and bordered on the far side by an aspen-thicketed slope. The +brook babbled along under the edge of this thicket. Cattle and +horses grazed here and there on the rich, grassy levels, Columbine +was surprised to see so many cattle and wondered to whom they +belonged. All of Belllounds's stock had been driven lower down for +the winter. There among the several horses that whistled at her +approach she espied the white mustang Belllounds had given to +Moore. It thrilled her to see him. And next, she suffered a pang to +think that perhaps his owner might never ride him again. But +Columbine held her emotions in abeyance.</p> +<p>The cabin stood high upon a level terrace, with clusters of +aspens behind it, and was sheltered from winter blasts by a gray +cliff, picturesque and crumbling, with its face overgrown by +creeping vines and colorful shrubs, Wilson Moore could not have +chosen a more secluded and beautiful valley for his homesteading +adventure. The little gray cabin, with smoke curling from the stone +chimney, had lost its look of dilapidation and disuse, yet there +was nothing new that Columbine could see. The last quarter of the +ascent of the slope, and the few rods across the level terrace, +seemed extraordinarily long to Columbine. As she dismounted and +tied Pronto her heart was beating and her breath was coming +fast.</p> +<p>The door of the cabin was open. Kane trotted past the hesitating +Columbine and went in.</p> +<p>"You son-of-a-hound-dog!" came to Columbine's listening ears in +Wade's well-known voice. "I'll have to beat you--sure as you're +born."</p> +<p>"I heard a horse," came in a lower voice, that was Wilson's.</p> +<p>"Darn me if I'm not gettin' deafer every day," was the +reply.</p> +<p>Then Wade appeared in the doorway.</p> +<p>"It's nobody but Miss Collie," he announced, as he made way for +her to enter.</p> +<p>"Good morning!" said Columbine, in a voice that had more than +cheerfulness in it.</p> +<p>"<i>Collie!</i>... Did you come to see me?"</p> +<p>She heard this incredulous query just an instant before she saw +Wilson at the far end of the room, lying under the light of a +window. The inside of the cabin seemed vague and unfamiliar.</p> +<p>"I surely did," she replied, advancing. "How are you?"</p> +<p>"Oh, I'm all right. Tickled to death, right now. Only, I hate to +have you see this battered mug of mine."</p> +<p>"You needn't--care," said Columbine, unsteadily. And indeed, in +that first glance she did not see him clearly. A mist blurred her +sight and there was a lump in her throat. Then, to recover herself, +she looked around the cabin.</p> +<p>"Well--Wils Moore--if this isn't fine!" she ejaculated, in amaze +and delight. Columbine sustained an absolute surprise. A magic hand +had transformed the interior of that rude old prospector's abode. A +carpenter and a mason and a decorator had been wonderfully at work. +From one end to the other Columbine gazed; from the big window +under which Wilson lay on a blanketed couch to the open fireplace +where Wade grinned she looked and looked, and then up to the clean, +aspen-poled roof and down to the floor, carpeted with deer hides. +The chinks between the logs of the walls were plastered with red +clay; the dust and dirt were gone; the place smelled like sage and +wood-smoke and fragrant, frying meat. Indeed, there were a glowing +bed of embers and a steaming kettle and a smoking pot; and the way +the smoke and steam curled up into the gray old chimney attested to +its splendid draught. In each corner hung a deer-head, from the +antlers of which depended accoutrements of a cowboy--spurs, ropes, +belts, scarfs, guns. One corner contained cupboard, ceiling high, +with new, clean doors of wood, neatly made; and next to it stood a +table, just as new. On the blank wall beyond that were pegs holding +saddles, bridles, blankets, clothes.</p> +<p>"He did it--all this inside," burst out Moore, delighted with +her delight. "Quicker than a flash! Collie, isn't this great? I +don't mind being down on my back. And he says they call him +Hell-Bent Wade. I call him Heaven-Sent Wade!"</p> +<p>When Columbine turned to the hunter, bursting with her pleasure +and gratitude, he suddenly dropped the forked stick he used as a +lift, and she saw his hand shake when he stooped to recover it. How +strangely that struck her!</p> +<p>"Ben, it's perfectly possible that you've been sent by Heaven," +she remarked, with a humor which still held gravity in it.</p> +<p>"Me! A good angel? That'd be a new job for Bent Wade," he +replied, with a queer laugh. "But I reckon I'd try to live up to +it."</p> +<p>There were small sprigs of golden aspen leaves and crimson oak +leaves on the wall above the foot of Wilson's bed. Beneath them, on +pegs, hung a rifle. And on the window-sill stood a glass jar +containing columbines. They were fresh. They had just been picked. +They waved gently in the breeze, sweetly white and blue, strangely +significant to the girl.</p> +<p>Moore laughed defiantly.</p> +<p>"Wade thought to fetch these flowers in," he explained. "They're +his favorites as well as mine. It won't be long now till the frost +kills them ... and I want to be happy while I may!"</p> +<p>Again Columbine felt that deep surge within her, beyond her +control, beyond her understanding, but now gathering and swelling, +soon to be reckoned with. She did not look at Wilson's face then. +Her downcast gaze saw that his right hand was bandaged, and she +touched it with an unconscious tenderness.</p> +<p>"Your hand! Why is it all wrapped up?"</p> +<p>The cowboy laughed with grim humor.</p> +<p>"Have you seen Jack this morning?"</p> +<p>"No," she replied, shortly.</p> +<p>"Well, if you had, you'd know what happened to my fist."</p> +<p>"Did you hurt it on him?" she asked, with a queer little shudder +that was not unpleasant.</p> +<p>"Collie, I busted that fist on his handsome face."</p> +<p>"Oh, it was dreadful!" she murmured. "Wilson, he meant to kill +you."</p> +<p>"Sure. And I'd cheerfully have killed him."</p> +<p>"You two must never meet again," she went on.</p> +<p>"I hope to Heaven we never do," replied Moore, with a dark +earnestness that meant more than his actual words.</p> +<p>"Wilson, will you avoid him--for my sake?" implored Columbine, +unconsciously clasping the bandaged hand.</p> +<p>"I will. I'll take the back trails. I'll sneak like a coyote. +I'll hide and I'll watch.... But, Columbine Belllounds, if he ever +corners me again--"</p> +<p>"Why, you'll leave him to Hell-Bent Wade," interrupted the +hunter, and he looked up from where he knelt, fixing those great, +inscrutable eyes upon the cowboy. Columbine saw something beyond +his face, deeper than the gloom, a passion and a spirit that drew +her like a magnet. "An' now, Miss Collie," he went on, "I reckon +you'll want to wait on our invalid. He's got to be fed."</p> +<p>"I surely will," replied Columbine, gladly, and she sat down on +the edge of the bed. "Ben, you fetch that box and put his dinner on +it."</p> +<p>While Wade complied, Columbine, shyly aware of her nearness to +the cowboy, sought to keep up conversation. "Couldn't you help +yourself with your left hand?" she inquired.</p> +<p>"That's one worse," he answered, taking it from under the +blanket, where it had been concealed.</p> +<p>"Oh!" cried Columbine, in dismay.</p> +<p>"Broke two bones in this one," said Wilson, with animation. +"Say, Collie, our friend Wade is a doctor, too. Never saw his +beat!"</p> +<p>"And a cook, too, for here's your dinner. You must sit up," +ordered Columbine.</p> +<p>"Fold that blanket and help me up on it," replied Moore.</p> +<p>How strange and disturbing for Columbine to bend over him, to +slip her arms under him and lift him! It recalled a long-forgotten +motherliness of her doll-playing days. And her face flushed +hot.</p> +<p>"Can't you move?" she asked, suddenly becoming aware of how dead +a weight the cowboy appeared.</p> +<p>"Not--very much," he replied. Drops of sweat appeared on his +bruised brow. It must have hurt him to move.</p> +<p>"You said your foot was all right."</p> +<p>"It is," he returned. "It's still on my leg, as I know darned +well."</p> +<p>"Oh!" exclaimed Columbine, dubiously. Without further comment +she began to feed him.</p> +<p>"It's worth getting licked to have this treat," he said.</p> +<p>"Nonsense!" she rejoined.</p> +<p>"I'd stand it again--to have you come here and feed me.... But +not from <i>him</i>."</p> +<p>"Wilson, I never knew you to be facetious before. Here, take +this."</p> +<p>Apparently he did not see her outstretched hand.</p> +<p>"Collie, you've changed. You're older. You're a woman, now--and +the prettiest--"</p> +<p>"Are you going to eat?" demanded Columbine.</p> +<p>"Huh!" exclaimed the cowboy, blankly. "Eat? Oh yes, sure. I'm +powerful hungry. And maybe Heaven-Sent Wade can't cook!"</p> +<p>But Columbine had trouble in feeding him. What with his +helplessness, and his propensity to watch her face instead of her +hands, and her own mounting sensations of a sweet, natural joy and +fitness in her proximity to him, she was hard put to it to show +some dexterity as a nurse. And all the time she was aware of Wade, +with his quiet, forceful presence, hovering near. Could he not see +her hands trembling? And would he not think that weakness strange? +Then driftingly came the thought that she would not shrink from +Wade's reading her mind. Perhaps even now he understood her better +than she understood herself.</p> +<p>"I can't--eat any more," declared Moore, at last.</p> +<p>"You've done very well for an invalid," observed Columbine. +Then, changing the subject, she asked, "Wilson, you're going to +stay here--winter here, dad would call it?"</p> +<p>"Yes."</p> +<p>"Are those your cattle down in the valley?"</p> +<p>"Sure. I've got near a hundred head. I saved my money and bought +cattle."</p> +<p>"That's a good start for you. I'm glad. But who's going to take +care of you and your stock until you can work again?"</p> +<p>"Why, my friend there, Heaven-Sent Wade," replied Moore, +indicating the little man busy with the utensils on the table, and +apparently hearing nothing.</p> +<p>"Can I fetch you anything to eat--or read?" she inquired.</p> +<p>"Fetch yourself," he replied, softly.</p> +<p>"But, boy, how could I fetch you anything without fetching +myself?"</p> +<p>"Sure, that's right. Then fetch me some jam and a +book--to-morrow. Will you?"</p> +<p>"I surely will."</p> +<p>"That's a promise. I know your promises of old."</p> +<p>"Then good-by till to-morrow. I must go. I hope you'll be +better."</p> +<p>"I'll stay sick in bed till you stop coming."</p> +<p>Columbine left rather precipitously, and when she got outdoors +it seemed that the hills had never been so softly, dreamily gray, +nor their loneliness so sweet, nor the sky so richly and deeply +blue. As she untied Pronto the hunter came out with Kane at his +heels.</p> +<p>"Miss Collie, if you'll go easy I'll ketch my horse an' ride +down with you," he said.</p> +<p>She mounted, and walked Pronto out to the trail, and slowly +faced the gradual descent. It was really higher up there than she +had surmised. And the view was beautiful. The gray, rolling +foothills, so exquisitely colored at that hour, and the +black-fringed ranges, one above the other, and the distant peaks, +sunset-flushed across the purple, all rose open and clear to her +sight, so wildly and splendidly expressive of the Colorado she +loved.</p> +<p>At the foot of the slope Wade joined her.</p> +<p>"Lass, I'm askin' you not to tell Belllounds that I'm carin' for +Wils," he said, in his gentle, persuasive way.</p> +<p>"I won't. But why not tell dad? He wouldn't mind. He'd do that +sort of thing himself."</p> +<p>"Reckon he would. But this deal's out of the ordinary. An' +Wils's not in as good shape as he thinks. I'm not takin' any +chances. I don't want to lose my job, an' I don't want to be +hindered from attendin' to this boy."</p> +<p>They had ridden as far as the first aspen grove when Wade +concluded this remark. Columbine halted her horse, causing her +companion to do likewise. Her former misgivings were augmented by +the intelligence of Wade's sad, lined face.</p> +<p>"Ben, tell me," she whispered, with a hand going to his arm.</p> +<p>"Miss Collie, I'm a sort of doctor in my way. I studied some +medicine an' surgery. An' I know. I wouldn't tell you this if it +wasn't that I've got to rely on you to help me."</p> +<p>"I will--but go on--tell me," interposed Columbine trying to +fortify herself.</p> +<p>"Wils's foot is all messed up. Buster Jack kicked it all out of +shape. An' it's a hundred times worse than ever. I'm afraid of +blood-poisonin' an' gangrene. You know gangrene is a dyin' an' +rottin' of the flesh.... I told the boy straight out that he'd +better let me cut his foot off. An' he swore he'd keep his foot or +die! Well, if gangrene does set in we can't save his leg, an' maybe +not his life."</p> +<p>"Oh, it can't be as bad as all that!" cried Columbine. "Oh, I +knew--I knew there was something.... Ben, you mean even at best +now--he'll be a--" She broke off, unable to finish.</p> +<p>"Miss Collie, in any case Wils'll never ride again--not like a +cowboy."</p> +<p>That for Columbine seemed the worst and the last straw. Hot +tears blinded her, hot blood gushed over her, hot heart-beats +throbbed in her throat.</p> +<p>"Poor boy! That'll--ruin him," she cried. "He loved--a horse. He +loved to ride. He was the--best rider of them all. And now he's +ruined! He'll be lame--a cripple--club-footed!... All because of +that Jack Belllounds! The brute--the coward! I hate him! Oh, I +<i>hate</i> him!... And I've got to marry him--on October first! +Oh, God pity me!"</p> +<p>Blindly Columbine reeled out of her saddle and slowly dropped to +the grass, where she burst into a violent storm of sobs and tears. +It shook her every fiber. It was hopeless, terrible grief. The dry +grass received her flood of tears and her incoherent words.</p> +<p>Wade dismounted and, kneeling beside her, placed a gentle hand +upon her heaving shoulder, but he spoke no word. By and by, when +the storm had begun to subside, he raised her head.</p> +<p>"Lass, nothin' is ever so bad as it seems," he said, softly. +"Come, sit up. Let me talk to you."</p> +<p>"Oh, Ben, something terrible <i>has</i> happened," she cried. +"It's in <i>me</i>! I don't know what it is. But it'll kill +me."</p> +<p>"I know," he replied, as her head fell upon his shoulder. "Miss +Collie, I'm an old fellow that's had everythin' happen to him, an' +I'm livin' yet, tryin' to help people along. No one dies so easy. +Why, you're a fine, strong girl--an' somethin' tells me you was +made for happiness. I know how things turn out. Listen--"</p> +<p>"But, Ben--you don't know--about me," she sobbed. "I've told +you--I--hate Jack Belllounds. But I've--got to marry him!... His +father raised me--from a baby. He brought me up. I owe him--my +life.... I've no relation--no mother--no father! No one loves +me--for myself!"</p> +<p>"Nobody loves you!" echoed Wade, with an exquisite tone of +repudiation. "Strange how people fool themselves! Lass, you're +huggin' your troubles too hard. An' you're wrong. Why, everybody +loves you! Lem an' Jim--why you just brighten the hard world they +live in. An' that poor, hot-headed Jack--he loves you as well as he +can love anythin'. An' the old man--no daughter could be loved +more.... An' I--I love you, lass, just like--as if you--might have +been my own. I'm goin' to be the friend--the brother you need. An' +I reckon I can come somewheres near bein' a mother, if you'll let +me."</p> +<p>Something, some subtle power or charm, stole over Columbine, +assuaging her terrible sense of loss, of grief. There was +tenderness in this man's hands, in his voice, and through them +throbbed strong and passionate life and spirit.</p> +<p>"Do you really love me--<i>love</i> me?" she whispered, somehow +comforted, somehow feeling that what he offered was what she had +missed as a child. "And you want to be all that for me?"</p> +<p>"Yes, lass, an' I reckon you'd better try me."</p> +<p>"Oh, how good you are! I felt that--the very first time I was +with you. I've wanted to come to you--to tell you my troubles. I +love dad and he loves me, but he doesn't understand. Dad is wrapped +up in his son. I've had no one. I never had any one."</p> +<p>"You have some one now," returned Wade, with a rich, deep +mellowness in his voice that soothed Columbine and made her wonder. +"An' because I've been through so much I can tell you what'll help +you.... Lass, if a woman isn't big an' brave, how will a man ever +be? There's more in women than in men. Life has given you a hard +knock, placin' you here--no real parents--an' makin' you +responsible to a man whose only fault is blinded love for his son. +Well, you've got to meet it, face it, with what a woman has more of +than any man. Courage! Suppose you do hate this Buster Jack. +Suppose you do love this poor, crippled Wilson Moore.... Lass, +don't look like that! Don't deny. You do love that boy.... Well, +it's hell. But you can never tell what'll happen when you're honest +and square. If you feel it your duty to pay your debt to the old +man you call dad--to pay it by marryin' his son, why do it, an' be +a woman. There's nothin' as great as a woman can be. There's +happiness that comes in strange, unheard-of ways. There's more in +this life than what you want most. <i>You</i> didn't place yourself +in this fix. So if you meet it with courage an' faithfulness to +yourself, why, it'll not turn out as you dread.... Some day, if you +ever think you're broken-hearted, I'll tell you my story. An' then +you'll not think your lot so hard. For I've had a broken heart an' +ruined life, an' yet I've lived on an' on, findin' happiness I +never dreamed would come, fightin' or workin'. An' how I found the +world beautiful, an' how I love the flowers an' hills an' wild +things so well--that, just that would be enough to live for!... An' +think, lass, of what a wonderful happiness will come to me in +showin' all this to you. That'll be the crownin' glory. An' if it's +that much to me, then you be sure there's nothin' on earth I won't +do for you."</p> +<p>Columbine lifted her tear-stained face with a light of +inspiration.</p> +<p>"Oh, Wilson was right!" she murmured. "You are Heaven-sent! And +I'm going to love you!"</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX</h2> +<br> +<p>A new spirit, or a liberation of her own, had fired Columbine, +and was now burning within her, unquenchable and unutterable. Some +divine spark had penetrated into that mysterious depth of her, to +inflame and to illumine, so that when she arose from this hour of +calamity she felt that to the tenderness and sorrow and fidelity in +her soul had been added the lightning flash of passion.</p> +<p>"Oh, Ben--shall I be able to hold onto this?" she cried, +flinging wide her arms, as if to embrace the winds of heaven.</p> +<p>"This what, lass?" he asked.</p> +<p>"This--this <i>woman!</i>" she answered, passionately, with her +hands sweeping back to press her breast.</p> +<p>"No woman who wakes ever goes back to a girl again," he said, +sadly.</p> +<p>"I wanted to die--and now I want to live--to fight.... Ben, +you've uplifted me. I was little, weak, miserable.... But in my +dreams, or in some state I can't remember or understand, I've +waited for your very words. I was ready. It's as if I knew you in +some other world, before I was born on this earth; and when you +spoke to me here, so wonderfully--as my mother might have +spoken--my heart leaped up in recognition of you and your call to +my womanhood!... Oh, how strange and beautiful!"</p> +<p>"Miss Collie," he replied, slowly, as he bent to his +saddle-straps, "you're young, an' you've no understandin' of what's +strange an' terrible in life. An' beautiful, too, as you say.... +Who knows? Maybe in some former state I was somethin' to you. I +believe in that. Reckon I can't say how or what. Maybe we were +flowers or birds. I've a weakness for that idea."</p> +<p>"Birds! I like the thought, too," replied Columbine. "I love +most birds. But there are hawks, crows, buzzards!"</p> +<p>"I reckon. Lass, there's got to be balance in nature. If it +weren't for the ugly an' the evil, we wouldn't know the beautiful +an' good.... An' now let's ride home. It's gettin' late."</p> +<p>"Ben, ought I not go back to Wilson right now?" she asked, +slowly.</p> +<p>"What for?"</p> +<p>"To tell him--something--and why I can't come to-morrow, or ever +afterward," she replied, low and tremulously.</p> +<p>Wade pondered over her words. It seemed to Columbine that her +sharpened faculties sensed something of hostility, of opposition in +him.</p> +<p>"Reckon to-morrow would be better," he said, presently. +"Wilson's had enough excitement for one day."</p> +<p>"Then I'll go to-morrow," she returned.</p> +<p>In the gathering, cold twilight they rode down the trail in +silence.</p> +<p>"Good night, lass," said Wade, as he reached his cabin. "An' +remember you're not alone any more."</p> +<p>"Good night, my friend," she replied, and rode on.</p> +<p>Columbine encountered Jim Montana at the corrals, and it was not +too dark for her to see his foam-lashed horse. Jim appeared +non-committal, almost surly. But Columbine guessed that he had +ridden to Kremmling and back in one day, on some order of +Jack's.</p> +<p>"Miss Collie, I'll tend to Pronto," he offered. "An' yore +supper'll be waitin'."</p> +<p>A bright fire blazed on the living-room hearth. The rancher was +reading by its light.</p> +<p>"Hello, rosy-cheeks!" greeted the rancher, with unusual +amiability. "Been ridin' ag'in' the wind, hey? Wal, if you ain't +pretty, then my eyes are pore!"</p> +<p>"It's cold, dad," she replied, "and the wind stings. But I +didn't ride fast nor far.... I've been up to see Wilson Moore."</p> +<p>"Ahuh! Wal, how's the boy?" asked Belllounds, gruffly.</p> +<p>"He said he was all right, but--but I guess that's not so," +responded Columbine.</p> +<p>"Any friends lookin' after him?"</p> +<p>"Oh yes--he must have friends--the Andrewses and others. I'm +glad to say his cabin is comfortable. He'll be looked after."</p> +<p>"Wal, I'm glad to hear thet. I'll send Lem or Wade up thar an' +see if we can do anythin' fer the boy."</p> +<p>"Dad--that's just like you," replied Columbine, with her hand +seeking his broad shoulder.</p> +<p>"Ahuh! Say, Collie, hyar's letters from 'most everybody in +Kremmlin' wantin' to be invited up fer October first. How about +askin' 'em?"</p> +<p>"The more the merrier," replied Columbine.</p> +<p>"Wal, I reckon I'll not ask anybody."</p> +<p>"Why not, dad?"</p> +<p>"No one can gamble on thet son of mine, even on his +weddin'-day," replied Belllounds, gloomily.</p> +<p>"Dad, what'd Jack do to-day?"</p> +<p>"I'm not sayin' he did anythin'," answered the rancher.</p> +<p>"Dad, you can gamble on me."</p> +<p>"Wal, I should smile," he said, putting his big arm around her. +"I wish you was Jack an' Jack was you."</p> +<p>At that moment the young man spoken of slouched into the room, +with his head bandaged, and took a seat at the supper-table.</p> +<p>"Wal, Collie, let's go an' get it," said the rancher, cheerily. +"I can always eat, anyhow."</p> +<p>"I'm hungry as a bear," rejoined Columbine, as she took her +seat, which was opposite Jack.</p> +<p>"Where 'ye you been?" he asked, curiously.</p> +<p>"Why, good evening, Jack! Did you finally notice me?... I've +been riding Pronto, the first time since he was hurt. Had a lovely +ride--up through Sage Valley."</p> +<p>Jack glowered at her with the one unbandaged eye, and growled +something under his breath, and then began to stab meat and +potatoes with his fork.</p> +<p>"What's the matter, Jack? Aren't you well?" asked Columbine, +with a solicitude just a little too sweet to be genuine.</p> +<p>"Yes, I'm well," snapped Jack.</p> +<p>"But you look sick. That is, what I can see of your face looks +sick. Your mouth droops at the corners. You're very pale--and red +in spots. And your one eye glows with unearthly woe, as if you were +not long for this world!"</p> +<p>The amazing nature of this speech, coming from the girl who had +always been so sweet and quiet and backward, was attested to by the +consternation of Jack and the mirth of his father.</p> +<p>"Are you making fun of me?" demanded Jack.</p> +<p>"Why, Jack! Do you think I would make fun of you? I only wanted +to say how queer you look.... Are you going to be married with one +eye?"</p> +<p>Jack collapsed at that, and the old man, after a long stare of +open-mouthed wonder, broke out: "Haw! Haw! Haw!... By Golly! +lass--I'd never believed thet was in you.... Jack, be game an' take +your medicine.... An' both of you forgive an' forget. Thar'll be +quarrels enough, mebbe, without rakin' over the past."</p> +<p>When alone again Columbine reverted to a mood vastly removed +from her apparent levity with the rancher and his son. A grave and +inward-searching thought possessed her, and it had to do with the +uplift, the spiritual advance, the rise above mere personal +welfare, that had strangely come to her through Bent Wade. From +their first meeting he had possessed a singular attraction for her +that now, in the light of the meaning of his life, seemed to +Columbine to be the man's nobility and wisdom, arising out of his +travail, out of the terrible years that had left their record upon +his face.</p> +<p>And so Columbine strove to bind forever in her soul the spirit +which had arisen in her, interpreting from Wade's rude words of +philosophy that which she needed for her own light and +strength.</p> +<p>She appreciated her duty toward the man who had been a father to +her. Whatever he asked that would she do. And as for the son she +must live with the rest of her life, her duty there was to be a +good wife, to bear with his faults, to strive always to help him by +kindness, patience, loyalty, and such affection as was possible to +her. Hate had to be reckoned with, and hate, she knew, had no place +in a good woman's heart. It must be expelled, if that were humanly +possible. All this was hard, would grow harder, but she accepted +it, and knew her mind.</p> +<p>Her soul was her own, unchangeable through any adversity. She +could be with that alone always, aloof from the petty cares and +troubles common to people. Wade's words had thrilled her with their +secret, with their limitless hope of an unknown world of thought +and feeling. Happiness, in the ordinary sense, might never be hers. +Alas for her dreams! But there had been given her a glimpse of +something higher than pleasure and contentment. Dreams were but +dreams. But she could still dream of what had been, of what might +have been, of the beauty and mystery of life, of something in +nature that called sweetly and irresistibly to her. Who could rob +her of the rolling, gray, velvety hills, and the purple peaks and +the black ranges, among which she had been found a waif, a little +lost creature, born like a columbine under the spruces?</p> +<p>Love, sudden-dawning, inexplicable love, was her secret, still +tremulously new, and perilous in its sweetness. That only did she +fear to realize and to face, because it was an unknown factor, a +threatening flame. Her sudden knowledge of it seemed inextricably +merged with the mounting, strong, and steadfast stream of her +spirit.</p> +<p>"I'll go to him. I'll tell him," she murmured. "He shall have +<i>that!</i>... Then I must bid him--good-by--forever!"</p> +<p>To tell Wilson would be sweet; to leave him would be bitter. +Vague possibilities haunted her. What might come of the telling? +How dark loomed the bitterness! She could not know what hid in +either of these acts until they were fulfilled. And the hours +became long, and sleep far off, and the quietness of the house a +torment, and the melancholy wail of coyotes a reminder of happy +girlhood, never to return.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>When next day the long-deferred hour came Columbine selected a +horse that she could run, and she rode up the winding valley swift +as the wind. But at the aspen grove, where Wade's keen, gentle +voice had given her secret life, she suffered a reaction that made +her halt and ascend the slope very slowly and with many stops.</p> +<p>Sight of Wade's horse haltered near the cabin relieved Columbine +somewhat of a gathering might of emotion. The hunter would be +inside and so she would not be compelled at once to confess her +secret. This expectancy gave impetus to her lagging steps. Before +she reached the open door she called out.</p> +<p>"Collie, you're late," answered Wilson, with both joy and +reproach, as she entered. The cowboy lay upon his bed, and he was +alone in the room.</p> +<p>"Oh!... Where is Ben?" exclaimed Columbine.</p> +<p>"He was here. He cooked my dinner. We waited, but you never +came. The dinner got cold. I made sure you'd backed out--weren't +coming at all--and I couldn't eat.... Wade said he knew you'd come. +He went off with the hounds, somewhere ... and oh, Collie, it's all +right now!"</p> +<p>Columbine walked to his bedside and looked down upon him with a +feeling as if some giant hand was tugging at her heart. He looked +better. The swelling and redness of his face were less marked. And +at that moment no pain shadowed his eyes. They were soft, dark, +eloquent. If Columbine had not come with her avowed resolution and +desire to unburden her heart she would have found that look in his +eyes a desperately hard one to resist. Had it ever shone there +before? Blind she had been.</p> +<p>"You're better," she said, happily.</p> +<p>"Sure--<i>now</i>. But I had a bad night. Didn't sleep till near +daylight. Wade found me asleep.... Collie, it's good of you to +come. You look so--so wonderful! I never saw your face glow like +that. And your eyes--oh!"</p> +<p>"You think I'm pretty, then?" she asked, dreamily, not occupied +at all with that thought.</p> +<p>He uttered a contemptuous laugh.</p> +<p>"Come closer," he said, reaching for her with a clumsy bandaged +hand.</p> +<p>Down upon her knees Columbine fell. Both hands flew to cover her +face. And as she swayed forward she shook violently, and there +escaped her lips a little, muffled sound.</p> +<p>"Why--Collie!" cried Moore, astounded. "Good Heavens! Don't cry! +I--I didn't mean anything. I only wanted to feel you--touch your +hand."</p> +<p>"Here," she answered, blindly holding out her hand, groping for +his till she found it. Her other was still pressed to her eyes. One +moment longer would Columbine keep her secret--hide her eyes--revel +in the unutterable joy and sadness of this crisis that could come +to a woman only once.</p> +<p>"What in the world?" ejaculated the cowboy, now bewildered. But +he possessed himself of the trembling hand offered. "Collie, you +act so strange.... You're not crying!... Am I only locoed, or +flighty, or what? Dear, look at me."</p> +<p>Columbine swept her hand from her eyes with a gesture of utter +surrender.</p> +<p>"Wilson, I'm ashamed--and sad--and gloriously happy," she said, +with swift breathlessness.</p> +<p>"Why?" he asked.</p> +<p>"Because of--of something I have to tell you," she +whispered.</p> +<p>"What is that?"</p> +<p>She bent over him.</p> +<p>"Can't you guess?"</p> +<p>He turned pale, and his eyes burned with intense fire.</p> +<p>"I won't guess ... I daren't guess."</p> +<p>"It's something that's been true for years--forever, it +seems--something I never dreamed of till last night," she went on, +softly.</p> +<p>"Collie!" he cried. "Don't torture me!"</p> +<p>"Do you remember long ago--when we quarreled so +dreadfully--because you kissed me?" she asked.</p> +<p>"Do you think I could kiss <i>you</i>--and live to forget?"</p> +<p>"I love you!" she whispered, shyly, feeling the hot blood burn +her.</p> +<p>That whisper transformed Wilson Moore. His arm flashed round her +neck and pulled her face down to his, and, holding her in a close +embrace, he kissed her lips and cheeks and wet eyes, and then again +her lips, passionately and tenderly.</p> +<p>Then he pressed her head down upon his breast.</p> +<p>"My God! I can't believe! Say it again!" he cried, hoarsely.</p> +<p>Columbine buried her flaming face in the blanket covering him, +and her hands clutched it tightly. The wildness of his joy, the +strange strength and power of his kisses, utterly changed her. Upon +his breast she lay, without desire to lift her face. All seemed +different, wilder, as she responded to his appeal: "Yes, I love +you! Oh, I love--love--love you!"</p> +<p>"Dearest!... Lift your face.... It's true now. I know. It's +proved. But let me look at you."</p> +<p>Columbine lifted herself as best she could. But she was blinded +by tears and choked with utterance that would not come, and in the +grip of a shuddering emotion that was realization of loss in a +moment when she learned the supreme and imperious sweetness of +love.</p> +<p>"Kiss me, Columbine," he demanded.</p> +<p>Through blurred eyes she saw his face, white and rapt, and she +bent to it, meeting his lips with her first kiss which was her +last.</p> +<p>"Again, Collie--again!" he begged.</p> +<p>"No--no more," she whispered, very low, and encircling his neck +with her arms she hid her face and held him convulsively, and +stifled the sobs that shook her.</p> +<p>Then Moore was silent, holding her with his free hand, breathing +hard, and slowly quieting down. Columbine felt then that he knew +that there was something terribly wrong, and that perhaps he dared +not voice his fear. At any rate, he silently held her, waiting. +That silent wait grew unendurable for Columbine. She wanted to +prolong this moment that was to be all she could ever surrender. +But she dared not do so, for she knew if he ever kissed her again +her duty to Belllounds would vanish like mist in the sun.</p> +<p>To release her hold upon him seemed like a tearing of her +heartstrings. She sat up, she wiped the tears from her eyes, she +rose to her feet, all the time striving for strength to face him +again.</p> +<p>A loud voice ringing from the cliffs outside, startled +Columbine. It came from Wade calling the hounds. He had returned, +and the fact stirred her.</p> +<p>"I'm to marry Jack Belllounds on October first."</p> +<p>The cowboy raised himself up as far as he was able. It was +agonizing for Columbine to watch the changing and whitening of his +face!</p> +<p>"No--no!" he gasped.</p> +<p>"Yes, it's true," she replied, hopelessly.</p> +<p>"<i>No!</i>" he exclaimed, hoarsely.</p> +<p>"But, Wilson, I tell you yes. I came to tell you. It's true--oh, +it's true!"</p> +<p>"But, girl, you said you love me," he declared, transfixing her +with dark, accusing eyes.</p> +<p>"That's just as terribly true."</p> +<p>He softened a little, and something of terror and horror took +the place of anger.</p> +<p>Just then Wade entered the cabin with his soft tread, hesitated, +and then came to Columbine's side. She could not unrivet her gaze +from Moore to look at her friend, but she reached out with +trembling hand to him. Wade clasped it in a horny palm.</p> +<p>Wilson fought for self-control in vain.</p> +<p>"Collie, if you love me, how can you marry Jack Belllounds?" he +demanded.</p> +<p>"I must."</p> +<p>"Why must you?"</p> +<p>"I owe my life and my bringing up to his father. He wants me to +do it. His heart is set upon my helping Jack to become a man.... +Dad loves me, and I love him. I must stand by him. I must repay +him. It is my duty."</p> +<p>"You've a duty to yourself--as a woman!" he rejoined, +passionately. "Belllounds is wrapped up in his son. He's blind to +the shame of such a marriage. But you're not."</p> +<p>"Shame?" faltered Columbine.</p> +<p>"Yes. The shame of marrying one man when you love another. You +can't love two men.... You'll give yourself. You'll be his +<i>wife</i>! Do you understand what that means?"</p> +<p>"I--I think--I do," replied Columbine, faintly. Where had +vanished all her wonderful spirit? This fire-eyed boy was breaking +her heart with his reproach.</p> +<p>"But you'll bear his children," cried Wilson. "Mother +of--them--when you love me!... Didn't you think of that?"</p> +<p>"Oh no--I never did--I never did!" wailed Columbine.</p> +<p>"Then you'll think before it's too late?" he implored, wildly. +"Dearest Collie, think! You won't ruin yourself! You won't? Say you +won't!"</p> +<p>"But--Oh, Wilson, what can I say? I've got to marry him."</p> +<p>"Collie, I'll kill him before he gets you."</p> +<p>"You mustn't talk so. If you fought again--if anything terrible +happened, it'd kill me."</p> +<p>"You'd be better off!" he flashed, white as a sheet.</p> +<p>Columbine leaned against Wade for support. She was fast +weakening in strength, although her spirit held. She knew what was +inevitable. But Wilson's agony was rending her.</p> +<p>"Listen," began the cowboy again. "It's your life--your +happiness--your soul.... Belllounds is crazy over that spoiled boy. +He thinks the sun rises and sets in him.... But Jack Belllounds is +no good on this earth! Collie dearest, don't think that's my +jealousy. I am horribly jealous. But I know him. He's not worth +you! No man is--and he the least. He'll break your heart, drag you +down, ruin your health--kill you, as sure as you stand there. I +want you to know I could prove to you what he is. But don't make +me. Trust me, Collie. Believe me."</p> +<p>"Wilson, I do believe you," cried Columbine. "But it doesn't +make any difference. It only makes my duty harder."</p> +<p>"He'll treat you like he treats a horse or a dog. He'll beat +you--"</p> +<p>"He never will! If he ever lays a hand on me--"</p> +<p>"If not that, he'll tire of you. Jack Belllounds never stuck to +anything in his life, and never will. It's not in him. He wants +what he can't have. If he gets it, then right off he doesn't want +it. Oh, I've known him since he was a kid.... Columbine, you've a +mistaken sense of duty. No girl need sacrifice her all because some +man found her a lost baby and gave her a home. A woman owes more to +herself than to any one."</p> +<p>"Oh, that's true, Wilson. I've thought it all.... But you're +unjust--hard. You make no allowance for--for some possible good in +every one. Dad swears I can reform Jack. Maybe I can. I'll pray for +it."</p> +<p>"Reform Jack Belllounds! How can you save a bad egg? That damned +coward! Didn't he prove to you what he was when he jumped on me and +kicked my broken foot till I fainted?... What do you want?"</p> +<p>"Don't say any more--please," cried Columbine. "Oh, I'm so +sorry.... I oughtn't have come.... Ben, take me home."</p> +<p>"But, Collie, I love you," frantically urged Wilson. "And he--he +may love you--but he's--Collie--he's been--"</p> +<p>Here Moore seemed to bite his tongue, to hold back speech, to +fight something terrible and desperate and cowardly in himself.</p> +<p>Columbine heard only his impassioned declaration of love, and to +that she vibrated.</p> +<p>"You speak as if this was one--sided," she burst out, as once +more the gush of hot blood surged over her. "You don't love me any +more than I love you. Not as much, for I'm a woman!... I love with +all my heart and soul!"</p> +<p>Moore fell back upon the bed, spent and overcome.</p> +<p>"Wade, my friend, for God's sake do something," he whispered, +appealing to the hunter as if in a last hope. "Tell Collie what +it'll mean for her to marry Belllounds. If that doesn't change her, +then tell her what it'll mean to me. I'll never go home. I'll never +leave here. If she hadn't told me she loved me then, I might have +stood anything. But now I can't. It'll kill me, Wade."</p> +<p>"Boy, you're talkin' flighty again," replied Wade. "This mornin' +when I come you were dreamin' an' talkin'--clean out of your +head.... Well, now, you an' Collie listen. You're right an' she's +right. I reckon I never run across a deal with two people fixed +just like you. But that doesn't hinder me from feelin' the same +about it as I'd feel about somethin' I was used to."</p> +<p>He paused, and, gently releasing Columbine, he went to Moore, +and retied his loosened bandage, and spread out the disarranged +blankets. Then he sat down on the edge of the bed and bent over a +little, running a roughened hand through the scant hair that had +begun to silver upon his head. Presently he looked up, and from +that sallow face, with its lines and furrows, and from the deep, +inscrutable eyes, there fell a light which, however sad and wise in +its infinite understanding of pain and strife, was still ruthless +and unquenchable in its hope.</p> +<p>"Wade, for God's sake save Columbine!" importuned Wilson.</p> +<p>"Oh, if you only could!" cried Columbine, impelled beyond her +power to resist by that prayer.</p> +<p>"Lass, you stand by your convictions," he said, impressively. +"An' Moore, you be a man an' don't make it so hard for her. Neither +of you can do anythin'.... Now there's old Belllounds--he'll never +change. He might r'ar up for this or that, but he'll never change +his cherished hopes for his son.... But Jack might change! Lookin' +back over all the years I remember many boys like this Buster Jack, +an' I remember how in the nature of their doin's they just hanged +themselves. I've a queer foresight about people whose trouble I've +made my own. It's somethin' that never fails. When their trouble's +goin' to turn out bad then I feel a terrible yearnin' to tell the +story of Hell-Bent Wade. That foresight of trouble gave me my +name.... But it's not operatin' here.... An' so, my young friends, +you can believe me when I say somethin' will happen. As far as +October first is concerned, or any time near, Collie isn't goin' to +marry Jack Belllounds."</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X</h2> +<br> +<p>One day Wade remarked to Belllounds: "You can never tell what a +dog is until you know him. Dogs are like men. Some of 'em look +good, but they're really bad. An' that works the other way round. +If a dog's born to run wild an' be a sheep-killer, that's what +he'll be. I've known dogs that loved men as no humans could have +loved them. It doesn't make any difference to a dog if his master +is a worthless scamp."</p> +<p>"Wal, I reckon most of them hounds I bought had no good masters, +judgin' from the way they act," replied the rancher.</p> +<p>"I'm developin' a first-rate pack," said Wade. "Jim hasn't any +faults exceptin' he doesn't bay enough. Sampson's not as true-nosed +as Jim, but he'll follow Jim, an' he has a deep, heavy bay you can +hear for miles. So that makes up for Jim's one fault. These two +hounds hang together, an' with them I'm developin' others. Denver +will split off of bear or lion tracks when he jumps a deer. I +reckon he's not young enough to be cured of that. Some of the +younger hounds are comin' on fine. But there's two dogs in the +bunch that beat me all hollow."</p> +<p>"Which ones?" asked Belllounds.</p> +<p>"There's that bloodhound, Kane," replied the hunter. "He's sure +a queer dog. I can't win him. He minds me now because I licked him, +an' once good an' hard when he bit me.... But he doesn't cotton to +me worth a damn. He's gettin' fond of Miss Columbine, an' I believe +might make a good watch-dog for her. Where'd he come from, +Belllounds?"</p> +<p>"Wal, if I don't disremember he was born in a prairie-schooner, +comin' across the plains. His mother was a full-blood, an' come +from Louisiana."</p> +<p>"That accounts for an instinct I see croppin' out in Kane," +rejoined Wade. "He likes to trail a man. I've caught him doin' it. +An' he doesn't take to huntin' lions or bear. Why, the other day, +when the hounds treed a lion an' went howlin' wild, Kane came up, +an' he looked disgusted an' went off by himself. He hunts by +himself, anyhow. First off I thought he might be a sheep-killer. +But I reckon not. He can trail men, an' that's about all the good +he is. His mother must have been a slave-hunter, an' Kane inherits +that trailin' instinct."</p> +<p>"Ahuh! Wal, train him on trailin' men, then. I've seen times +when a dog like thet'd come handy. An' if he takes to Collie an' +you approve of him, let her have him. She's been coaxin' me fer a +dog."</p> +<p>"That isn't a bad idea. Miss Collie walks an' rides alone a good +deal, an' she never packs a gun."</p> +<p>"Funny about thet," said Belllounds. "Collie is game in most +ways, but she'd never kill anythin'.... Wade, you ain't thinkin' +she ought to stop them lonesome walks an' rides?"</p> +<p>"No, sure not, so long as she doesn't go too far away."</p> +<p>"Ahuh! Wal, supposin' she rode up out of the valley, west on the +Black Range?"</p> +<p>"That won't do, Belllounds," replied Wade, seriously. "But Miss +Collie's not goin' to, for I've cautioned her. Fact is I've run +across some hard-lookin' men between here an' Buffalo Park. They're +not hunters or prospectors or cattlemen or travelers."</p> +<p>"Wal, you don't say!" rejoined Belllounds. "Now, Wade, are you +connectin' up them strangers with the stock I missed on this last +round-up?"</p> +<p>"Reckon I can't go as far as that," returned Wade. "But I didn't +like their looks."</p> +<p>"Thet comin' from you, Wade, is like the findin's of a jury.... +It's gettin' along toward October. Snow'll be flyin' soon. You +don't reckon them strangers will winter in the woods?"</p> +<p>"No, I don't. Neither does Lewis. You recollect him?"</p> +<p>"Yes, thet prospector who hangs out around Buffalo Park, lookin' +fer gold. He's been hyar. Good fellar, but crazy on gold."</p> +<p>"I've met Lewis several times, one place and another. I lost the +hounds day before yesterday. They treed a lion an' Lewis heard the +racket, an' he stayed with them till I come up. Then he told me +some interestin' news. You see he's been worryin' about this gang +thet's rangin' around Buffalo Park, an' he's tried to get a line on +them. Somebody took a shot at him in the woods. He couldn't swear +it was one of that outfit, but he could swear he wasn't near shot +by accident. Now Lewis says these men pack to an' fro from Elgeria, +an' he has a hunch they're in cahoots with Smith, who runs a place +there. You know Smith?"</p> +<p>"No, I don't, an' haven't any wish to," declared Belllounds, +shortly. "He always looked shady to me. An' he's not been square +with friends of mine in Elgeria. But no one ever proved him +crooked, whatever was thought. Fer my part, I never missed a guess +in my life. Men don't have scars on their face like his fer +nothin'."</p> +<p>"Boss, I'm confidin' what I want kept under your hat," said +Wade, quietly. "I knew Smith. He's as bad as the West makes them. I +gave him that scar.... An' when he sees me he's goin' for his +gun."</p> +<p>"Wal, I'll be darned! Doesn't surprise me. It's a small +world.... Wade, I'll keep my mouth shut, sure. But what's your +game?"</p> +<p>"Lewis an' I will find out if there is any connection between +Smith an' this gang of strangers--an' the occasional loss of a few +head of stock."</p> +<p>"Ahuh! Wal, you have my good will, you bet.... Sure thar's been +some rustlin' of cattle. Not enough to make any rancher holler, an' +I reckon there never will be any more of thet in Colorado. Still, +if we get the drop on some outfit we sure ought to corral +them."</p> +<p>"Boss, I'm tellin' you--"</p> +<p>"Wade, you ain't agoin' to start thet tellin' hell-bent +happenin's to come hyar at White Slides?" interrupted Belllounds, +plaintively.</p> +<p>"No, I reckon I've no hunch like that now," responded Wade, +seriously. "But I was about to say that if Smith is in on any +rustlin' of cattle he'll be hard to catch, an' if he's caught +there'll be shootin' to pay. He's cunnin' an' has had long +experience. It's not likely he'd work openly, as he did years ago. +If he's stealin' stock or buyin' an' sellin' stock that some one +steals for him, it's only on a small scale, an' it'll be hard to +trace."</p> +<p>"Wal, he might be deep," said Belllounds, reflectively. "But men +like thet, no matter how deep or cunnin' they are, always come to a +bad end. Jest works out natural.... Had you any grudge ag'in' +Smith?"</p> +<p>"What I give him was for somebody else, an' was sure little +enough. He's got the grudge against me."</p> +<p>"Ahuh! Wal, then, don't you go huntin' fer trouble. Try an' make +White Slides one place thet'll disprove your name. All the same, +don't shy at sight of anythin' suspicious round the ranch."</p> +<p>The old man plodded thoughtfully away, leaving the hunter +likewise in a brown study.</p> +<p>"He's gettin' a hunch that I'll tell him of some shadow hoverin' +black over White Slides," soliloquized Wade. "Maybe--maybe so. But +I don't see any yet.... Strange how a man will say what he didn't +start out to say. Now, I started to tell him about that amazin' dog +Fox."</p> +<p>Fox was the great dog of the whole pack, and he had been +absolutely overlooked, which fact Wade regarded with contempt for +himself. Discovery of this particular dog came about by accident. +Somewhere in the big corral there was a hole where the smaller dogs +could escape, but Wade had been unable to find it. For that matter +the corral was full of holes, not any of which, however, it +appeared to Wade, would permit anything except a squirrel to pass +in and out.</p> +<p>One day when the hunter, very much exasperated, was prowling +around and around inside the corral, searching for this mysterious +vent, a rather small dog, with short gray and brown woolly hair, +and shaggy brows half hiding big, bright eyes, came up wagging his +stump of a tail.</p> +<p>"Well, what do you know about it?" demanded Wade. Of course he +had noticed this particular dog, but to no purpose. On this +occasion the dog repeated so unmistakably former overtures of +friendship that Wade gave him close scrutiny. He was neither young +nor comely nor thoroughbred, but there was something in his +intelligent eyes that struck the hunter significantly. "Say, maybe +I overlooked somethin'? But there's been a heap of dogs round here +an' you're no great shucks for looks. Now, if you're talkin' to me +come an' find that hole."</p> +<p>Whereupon Wade began another search around the corral. It +covered nearly an acre of ground, and in some places the +fence-poles had been sunk near rocks. More than once Wade got down +upon his hands and knees to see if he could find the hole. The dog +went with him, watching with knowing eyes that the hunter imagined +actually laughed at him. But they were glad eyes, which began to +make an appeal. Presently, when Wade came to a rough place, the dog +slipped under a shelving rock, and thence through a half-concealed +hole in the fence; and immediately came back through to wag his +stump of a tail and look as if the finding of that hole was easy +enough.</p> +<p>"You old fox," declared Wade, very much pleased, as he patted +the dog. "You found it for me, didn't you? Good dog! Now I'll fix +that hole, an' then you can come to the cabin with me. An' your +name's Fox."</p> +<p>That was how Fox introduced himself to Wade, and found his +opportunity. The fact that he was not a hound had operated against +his being taken out hunting, and therefore little or no attention +had been paid him. Very shortly Fox showed himself to be a dog of +superior intelligence. The hunter had lived much with dogs and had +come to learn that the longer he lived with them the more there was +to marvel at and love.</p> +<p>Fox insisted so strongly on being taken out to hunt with the +hounds that Wade, vowing not to be surprised at anything, let him +go. It happened to be a particularly hard day on hounds because of +old tracks and cross-tracks and difficult ground. Fox worked out a +labyrinthine trail that Sampson gave up and Jim failed on. This +delighted Wade, and that night he tried to find out from Andrews, +who sold the dog to Belllounds, something about Fox. All the +information obtainable was that Andrews suspected the fellow from +whom he had gotten Fox had stolen him. Belllounds had never noticed +him at all. Wade kept the possibilities of Fox to himself and +reserved his judgment, and every day gave the dog another chance to +show what he knew.</p> +<br> +<a name="p160.jpg"></a> +<p class="ctr"><a href="images/p160.jpg"><img src="images/p160.jpg" +width="80%" alt=""></a><br> +<b>"I'm beginnin' to feel that I couldn't let her marry that Buster +Jack,"<br> +soliloquized Wade, as he rode along the grassy trail.</b></p> +<br> +<p>Long before the end of that week Wade loved Fox and decided that +he was a wonderful animal. Fox liked to hunt, but it did not matter +what he hunted. That depended upon the pleasure of his master. He +would find hobbled horses that were hiding out and standing still +to escape detection. He would trail cattle. He would tree squirrels +and point grouse. Invariably he suited his mood to the kind of game +he hunted. If put on an elk track, or that of deer, he would follow +it, keeping well within sight of the hunter, and never uttering a +single bark or yelp; and without any particular eagerness he would +stick until he had found the game or until he was called off. Bear +and cat tracks, however, roused the savage instinct in him, and +transformed him. He yelped at every jump on a trail, and whenever +his yelp became piercing and continuous Wade well knew the quarry +was in sight. He fought bear like a wise old dog that knew when to +rush in with a snap and when to keep away. When lions or wildcats +were treed Fox lost much of his ferocity and interest. Then the +matter of that particular quarry was ended. His most valuable +characteristic, however, was his ability to stick on the track upon +which he was put. Wade believed if he put Fox on the trail of a +rabbit, and if a bear or lion were to cross that trail ahead of +him, Fox would stick to the rabbit. Even more remarkable was it +that Fox would not steal a piece of meat and that he would fight +the other dogs for being thieves.</p> +<p>Fox and Kane, it seemed to the hunter in his reflective +foreshadowing of events at White Slides, were destined to play most +important parts.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>Upon a certain morning, several days before October first--which +date rankled in the mind of Wade--he left Moore's cabin, leading a +pack-horse. The hounds he had left behind at the ranch, but Fox +accompanied him.</p> +<p>"Wade, I want some elk steak," old Belllounds had said the day +before. "Nothin' like a good rump steak! I was raised on elk meat. +Now hyar, more'n a week ago I told you I wanted some. There's elk +all around. I heerd a bull whistle at sunup to-day. Made me wish I +was young ag'in!... You go pack in an elk."</p> +<p>"I haven't run across any bulls lately," Wade had replied, but +he did not mention that he had avoided such a circumstance. The +fact was Wade admired and loved the elk above all horned wild +animals. So strange was his attitude toward elk that he had gone +meat-hungry many a time with these great stags bugling near his +camp.</p> +<p>As he climbed the yellow, grassy mountain-side, working round +above the valley, his mind was not centered on the task at hand, +but on Wilson Moore, who had come to rely on him with the +unconscious tenacity of a son whose faith in his father was +unshakable. The crippled cowboy kept his hope, kept his cheerful, +grateful spirit, obeyed and suffered with a patience that was fine. +There had been no improvement in his injured foot. Wade worried +about that much more than Moore. The thing that mostly occupied the +cowboy was the near approach of October first, with its terrible +possibility for him. He did not talk about it, except when fever +made him irrational, but it was plain to Wade how he prayed and +hoped and waited in silence. Strange how he trusted Wade to avert +catastrophe of Columbine's marriage! Yet such trust seemed familiar +to Wade, as he reflected over past years. Had he not wanted such +trust--had he not invited it?</p> +<p>For twenty years no happiness had come to Wade in any sense +comparable to that now secretly his, as he lived near Columbine +Belllounds, divining more and more each day how truly she was his +own flesh and the image of the girl he had loved and married and +wronged. Columbine was his daughter. He saw himself in her. And +Columbine, from being strongly attracted to him and trusting in him +and relying upon him, had come to love him. That was the most +beautiful and terrible fact of his life--beautiful because it +brought back the past, her babyhood, and his barren years, and gave +him this sudden change, where he lived transported with the sense +and the joy of his possession. It was terrible because she was +unhappy, because she was chained to duty and honor, because ruin +faced her, and lastly because Wade began to have the vague, gloomy +intimations of distant tragedy. Far off, like a cloud on the +horizon, but there! Long ago he had learned the uselessness of +fighting his morbid visitations. But he clung to hope, to faith in +life, to the victory of the virtuous, to the defeat of evil. A +thousand proofs had strengthened him in that clinging.</p> +<p>There were personal dread and poignant pain for Wade in +Columbine Belllounds's situation. After all, he had only his subtle +and intuitive assurance that matters would turn out well for her in +the end. To trust that now, when the shadow began to creep over his +own daughter, seemed unwise--a juggling with chance.</p> +<p>"I'm beginnin' to feel that I couldn't let her marry that Buster +Jack," soliloquized Wade, as he rode along the grassy trail. "Fust +off, seein' how strong was her sense of duty an' loyalty, I wasn't +so set against it. But somethin's growin' in me. Her love for that +crippled boy, now, an' his for her! Lord! they're so young an' life +must be so hot an' love so sweet! I reckon that's why I couldn't +let her marry Jack.... But, on the other hand, there's the old +man's faith in his son, an' there's Collie's faith in herself an' +in life. Now I believe in that. An' the years have proved to me +there's hope for the worst of men.... I haven't even had a talk +with this Buster Jack. I don't know him, except by hearsay. An' I'm +sure prejudiced, which's no wonder, considerin' where I saw him in +Denver.... I reckon, before I go any farther, I'd better meet this +Belllounds boy an' see what's in him."</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>It was characteristic of Wade that this soliloquy abruptly ended +his thoughtful considerations for the time being. This was owing to +the fact that he rested upon a decision, and also because it was +time he began to attend to the object of his climb.</p> +<p>Bench after bench he had ascended, and the higher he got the +denser and more numerous became the aspen thickets and the more +luxuriant the grass. Presently the long black slope of spruce +confronted him, with its edge like a dark wall. He entered the +fragrant forest, where not a twig stirred nor a sound pervaded the +silence. Upon the soft, matted earth the hoofs of the horses made +no impression and scarcely a perceptible thud.</p> +<p>Wade headed to the left, avoiding rough, rocky defiles of +weathered cliff and wind-fallen trees, and aimed to find easy going +up to the summit of the mountain bluff far above. This was new +forest to him, consisting of moderate-sized spruce-trees growing so +closely together that he had to go carefully to keep from snapping +dead twigs. Fox trotted on in the lead, now and then pausing to +look up at his master, as if for instructions.</p> +<p>A brightening of the dark-green gloom ahead showed the hunter +that he was approaching a large glade or open patch, where the +sunlight fell strongly. It turned out to be a swale, or swampy +place, some few acres in extent, and directly at the foot of a last +steep, wooded slope. Here Fox put his nose into the air and +halted.</p> +<p>"What're you scentin', Fox, old boy?" asked Wade, with low +voice, as he peered ahead. The wind was in the wrong direction for +him to approach close to game without being detected. Fox wagged +his stumpy tail and looked up with knowing eyes. Wade proceeded +cautiously. The swamp was a rank growth of long, weedy grasses and +ferns, with here and there a green-mossed bog half hidden and a +number of dwarf oak-trees. Wade's horse sank up to his knees in the +mire. On the other side showed fresh tracks along the wet margin of +the swale.</p> +<p>"It's elk, all right," said Wade, as he dismounted. "Heard us +comin'. Now, Fox, stick your nose in that track. An' go slow."</p> +<p>With rifle ready Wade began the ascent of the slope on foot, +leading his horse. An old elk trail showed a fresh track. Fox +accommodated his pace to that of the toiling hunter. The ascent was +steep and led up through dense forest. At intervals, when Wade +halted to catch his breath and listen, he heard faint snapping of +dead branches far above. At length he reached the top of the +mountain, to find a wide, open space, with heavy forest in front, +and a bare, ghastly, burned-over district to his right. Fox +growled, and appeared about to dash forward. Then, in an opening +through the forest, Wade espied a large bull elk, standing at gaze, +evidently watching him. He was a gray old bull, with broken +antlers. Wade made no move to shoot, and presently the elk walked +out of sight.</p> +<p>"Too old an' tough, Fox," explained the hunter to the anxious +dog. But perhaps that was not all Wade's motive in sparing him.</p> +<p>Once more mounted, Wade turned his attention to the burned +district. It was a dreary, hideous splotch, a blackened slash in +the green cover of the mountain. It sloped down into a wide hollow +and up another bare slope. The ground was littered with bleached +logs, trees that had been killed first by fire and then felled by +wind. Here and there a lofty, spectral trunk still withstood the +blasts. Across the hollow sloped a considerable area where all +trees were dead and still standing--a melancholy sight. Beyond, and +far round and down to the left, opened up a slope of spruce and +bare ridge, where a few cedars showed dark, and then came black, +spear-tipped forest again, leading the eye to the magnificent +panorama of endless range on range, purple in the distance.</p> +<p>Wade found patches of grass where beds had been recently +occupied.</p> +<p>"Mountain-sheep, by cracky!" exclaimed the hunter. "An' fresh +tracks, too!... Now I wonder if it wouldn't do to kill a sheep an' +tell Belllounds I couldn't find any elk."</p> +<p>The hunter had no qualms about killing mountain-sheep, but he +loved the lordly stags and would have lied to spare them. He rode +on, with keen gaze shifting everywhere to catch a movement of +something in this wilderness before him. If there was any living +animal in sight it did not move. Wade crossed the hollow, wended a +circuitous route through the upstanding forest of dead timber, and +entered a thick woods that skirted the rim of the mountain. +Presently he came out upon the open rim, from which the depths of +green and gray yawned mightily. Far across, Old White Slides loomed +up, higher now, with a dignity and majesty unheralded from +below.</p> +<p>Wade found fresh sheep tracks in the yellow clay of the rim, +small as little deer tracks, showing that they had just been made +by ewes and lambs. Not a ram track in the group!</p> +<p>"Well, that lets me out," said Wade, as he peered under the +bluff for sight of the sheep. They had gone over the steep rim as +if they had wings. "Beats hell how sheep can go down without +fallin'! An' how they can hide!"</p> +<p>He knew they were near at hand and he wasted time peering to spy +them out. Nevertheless, he could not locate them. Fox waited +impatiently for the word to let him prove how easily he could rout +them out, but this permission was not forthcoming.</p> +<p>"We're huntin' elk, you Jack-of-all-dogs," reprovingly spoke the +hunter to Fox.</p> +<p>So they went on around the rim, and after a couple of miles of +travel came to the forest, and then open heads of hollows that +widened and deepened down. Here was excellent pasture and cover for +elk. Wade left the rim to ride down these slow-descending half-open +ridges, where cedars grew and jack-pines stood in clumps, and +little grassy-bordered brooks babbled between. He saw tracks where +a big buck deer had crossed ahead of him, and then he flushed a +covey of grouse that scared the horses, and then he saw where a +bear had pulled a rotten log to pieces. Fox did not show any +interest in these things.</p> +<p>By and by Wade descended to the junction of these hollows, where +three tiny brooklets united to form a stream of pure, swift, clear +water, perhaps a foot deep and several yards wide.</p> +<p>"I reckon this's the head of the Troublesome," said Wade. +"Whoever named this brook had no sense.... Yet here, at its source, +it's gatherin' trouble for itself. That's the way of youth."</p> +<p>The grass grew thickly and luxuriantly and showed signs of +recent grazing. Elk had been along the brook that morning. There +were many tracks, like cow tracks, only smaller, deeper, and more +oval; and there were beds where elk had lain, and torn-up places +where bulls had plowed and stamped with heavy hoofs.</p> +<p>Fox trailed the herd to higher ground, where evidently they had +entered the woods. Here Wade tied his horses, and, whispering to +Fox, he proceeded stealthily through this strip of spruce. He came +out to an open point, taking care, however, to keep well screened, +from which he had a glimpse of a parklike hollow, grassy and +watered. Working round to better vantage, he soon espied what had +made Fox stand so stiff and bristling. A herd of elk were trooping +up the opposite slope, scarcely a hundred yards distant. They had +heard or scented him, but did not appear alarmed. They halted to +look back. The hunter's quick estimate credited nearly two dozen to +the herd, mostly cows. A magnificent bull, with wide-spreading +antlers, and black head and shoulders and gray hind quarters, +stalked out from the herd, and stood an instant, head aloft, +splendidly significant of the wild. Then he trotted into the woods, +his antlers noiselessly spreading the green. Others trotted off +likewise. Wade raised his rifle and looked through the sight at the +bull, and let him pass. Then he saw another over his rifle, and +another. Reluctant and forced, he at last aimed and pulled trigger. +The heavy Henry boomed out in the stillness. Fox dashed down with +eager barks. When the smoke cleared away Wade saw the opposite +slope bare except for one fallen elk.</p> +<p>Then he returned to his horses, and brought them back to where +Fox perched beside the dead quarry.</p> +<p>"Well, Fox, that stag'll never bugle any more of a sunrise," +said Wade. "Strange how we're made so we have to eat meat! I'd 'a' +liked it otherwise."</p> +<p>He cut up the elk, and packed all the meat the horse could +carry, and hung the best of what was left out of the reach of +coyotes. Mounting once more, he ascended to the rim and found a +slope leading down to the west. Over the basin country below he had +hunted several days. This way back to the ranch was longer, he +calculated, but less arduous for man and beast. His pack-horse +would have hard enough going in any event. From time to time Wade +halted to rest the burdened pack-animal. At length he came to a +trail he had himself made, which he now proceeded to follow. It led +out of the basin, through burned and boggy ground and down upon the +forest slope, thence to the grassy and aspened uplands. One aspen +grove, where he had rested before, faced the west, and, for reasons +hard to guess, had suffered little from frost. All the leaves were +intact, some still green, but most of them a glorious gold against +the blue. It was a large grove, sloping gently, carpeted with +yellow grass and such a profusion of purple asters as Wade had +never seen in his flower-loving life. Here he dismounted and sat +against an aspen-tree. His horses ruthlessly cropped the purple +blossoms.</p> +<p>Nature in her strong prodigality had outdone herself here. Pale +white the aspen-trees shone, and above was the fluttering, +quivering canopy of gold tinged with green, and below clustered the +asters, thick as stars in the sky, waving, nodding, swaying +gracefully to each little autumn breeze, lilac-hued and lavender +and pale violet, and all the shades of exquisite purple.</p> +<p>Wade lingered, his senses predominating. This was one of those +moments that colored his lonely wanderings. Only to see was enough. +He would have shut out the encroaching thoughts of self, of others, +of life, had that been wholly possible. But here, after the first +few moments of exquisite riot of his senses, where fragrance of +grass and blossom filled the air, and blaze of gold canopied the +purple, he began to think how beautiful the earth was, how Nature +hid her rarest gifts for those who loved her most, how good it was +to live, if only for these blessings. And sadness crept into his +meditations because all this beauty was ephemeral, all the gold +would soon be gone, and the asters, so pale and pure and purple, +would soon be like the glory of a dream that had passed.</p> +<p>Yet still followed the saving thought that frost and winter must +again yield to sun, and spring, summer, autumn would return with +the flowers of their season, in that perennial birth so gracious +and promising. The aspen leaves would quiver and slowly gild, the +grass would wave in the wind, the asters would bloom, lifting +star-pale faces to the sky. Next autumn, and every year, and +forever, as long as the sun warmed the earth!</p> +<p>It was only man who would not always return to the haunts he +loved.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI</h2> +<br> +<p>When Bent Wade desired opportunities they seemed to gravitate to +him.</p> +<p>Upon riding into the yard of White Slides Ranch he espied Jack +Belllounds sitting in idle, moping posture on the porch. Something +in his dejected appearance roused Wade's pity. No one else was in +sight, so the hunter took advantage of the moment.</p> +<p>"Hey, Belllounds, will you give me a lift with this meat?" +called Wade.</p> +<p>"Sure," replied Jack, readily enough, and he got up. Wade led +the pack-horse to the door of the store-cabin, which stood back of +the kitchen and was joined to it by a roof. There, with Jack's +assistance, he unloaded the meat and hung it up on pegs. This done, +Wade set to work with knife in hand.</p> +<p>"I reckon a little trimmin' will improve the looks of this +carcass," observed Wade.</p> +<p>"Wade, we never had any one round except dad who could cut up a +steer or elk," said Jack. "But you've got him beat."</p> +<p>"I'm pretty handy at most things."</p> +<p>"Handy!... I wish I could do just one thing as well as you. I +can ride, but that's all. No one ever taught me anything."</p> +<p>"You're a young fellow yet, an' you've time, if you only take +kindly to learnin'. I was past your age when I learned most I +know."</p> +<p>The hunter's voice and his look, and that fascination which +subtly hid in his presence, for the first time seemed to find the +response of interest in young Belllounds.</p> +<p>"I can't stick, dad says, and he swears at me," replied +Belllounds. "But I'll bet I could learn from you."</p> +<p>"Reckon you could. Why can't you stick to anythin'?"</p> +<p>"I don't know. I've been as enthusiastic over work as over +riding mustangs. To ride came natural, but in work, when I do it +wrong, then I hate it."</p> +<p>"Ahuh! That's too bad. You oughtn't to hate work. Hard work +makes for what I reckon you like in a man, but don't understand. As +I look back over my life--an' let me say, young fellar, it's been a +tough one--what I remember most an' feel best over are the hardest +jobs I ever did, an' those that cost the most sweat an' blood."</p> +<p>As Wade warmed to his subject, hoping to sow a good seed in +Belllounds's mind, he saw that he was wasting his earnestness. +Belllounds did not keep to the train of thought. His mind wandered, +and now he was examining Wade's rifle.</p> +<p>"Old Henry forty-four," he said. "Dad has one. Also an old +needle-gun. Say, can I go hunting with you?"</p> +<p>"Glad to have you. How do you handle a rifle?"</p> +<p>"I used to shoot pretty well before I went to Denver," he +replied. "Haven't tried since I've been home.... Suppose you let me +take a shot at that post?" And from where he stood in the door he +pointed to a big hitching-post near the corral gate.</p> +<p>The corral contained horses, and in the pasture beyond were +cattle, any of which might be endangered by such a shot. Wade saw +that the young man was in earnest, that he wanted to respond to the +suggestion in his mind. Consequences of any kind did not awaken +after the suggestion.</p> +<p>"Sure. Go ahead. Shoot low, now, a little below where you want +to hit," said Wade.</p> +<p>Belllounds took aim and fired. A thundering report shook the +cabin. Dust and splinters flew from the post.</p> +<p>"I hit it!" he exclaimed, in delight. "I was sure I wouldn't, +because I aimed 'way under."</p> +<p>"Reckon you did. It was a good shot."</p> +<p>Then a door slammed and Old Bill Belllounds appeared, his hair +upstanding, his look and gait proclaiming him on the rampage.</p> +<p>"Jack! What'n hell are you doin'?" he roared, and he stamped up +to the door to see his son standing there with the rifle in his +hands. "By Heaven! If it ain't one thing it's another!"</p> +<p>"Boss, don't jump over the traces," said Wade. "I'll allow if +I'd known the gun would let out a bellar like that I'd not have +told Jack to shoot. Reckon it's because we're under the open roof +that it made the racket. I'm wantin' to clean the gun while it's +hot."</p> +<p>"Ahuh! Wal, I was scared fust, harkin' back to Indian days, an' +then I was mad because I figgered Jack was up to mischief.... Did +you fetch in the meat?"</p> +<p>"You bet. An' I'd like a piece for myself," replied Wade.</p> +<p>"Help yourself, man. An' say, come down an' eat with us fer +supper."</p> +<p>"Much obliged, boss. I sure will."</p> +<p>Then the old rancher trudged back to the house.</p> +<p>"Wade, it was bully of you!" exclaimed Jack, gratefully. "You +see how quick dad's ready to jump me? I'll bet he thought I'd +picked a shooting-scrape with one of the cowboys."</p> +<p>"Well, he's gettin' old an' testy," replied Wade. "You ought to +humor him. He'll not be here always."</p> +<p>Belllounds answered to that suggestion with a shadowing of eyes +and look of realization, affection, remorse. Feelings seemed to +have a quick rise and play in him, but were not lasting. Wade +casually studied him, weighing his impressions, holding them in +abeyance for a sum of judgment.</p> +<p>"Belllounds, has anybody told you about Wils Moore bein' bad +hurt?" abruptly asked the hunter.</p> +<p>"He is, is he?" replied Jack, and to his voice and face came +sudden change. "How bad?"</p> +<p>"I reckon he'll be a cripple for life," answered Wade, +seriously, and now he stopped in his work to peer at Belllounds. +The next moment might be critical for that young man.</p> +<p>"Club-footed!... He won't lord it over the cowboys any more--or +ride that white mustang!" The softer, weaker expression of his +face, that which gave him some title to good looks, changed to an +ugliness hard for Wade to define, since it was neither glee, nor +joy, nor gratification over his rival's misfortune. It was rush of +blood to eyes and skin, a heated change that somehow to Wade +suggested an anxious, selfish hunger. Belllounds lacked something, +that seemed certain. But it remained to be proved how deserving he +was of Wade's pity.</p> +<p>"Belllounds, it was a dirty trick--your jumpin' Moore," declared +Wade, with deliberation.</p> +<p>"The hell you say!" Belllounds flared up, with scarlet in his +face, with sneer of amaze, with promise of bursting rage. He +slammed down the gun.</p> +<p>"Yes, the hell I say," returned the hunter. "They call me +Hell-Bent Wade!"</p> +<p>"Are you friends with Moore?" asked Belllounds, beginning to +shake.</p> +<p>"Yes, I'm that with every one. I'd like to be friends with +you."</p> +<p>"I don't want you. And I'm giving you notice--you won't last +long at White Slides."</p> +<p>"Neither will you!"</p> +<p>Belllounds turned dead white, not apparently from fury or fear, +but from a shock that had its birth within the deep, mysterious, +emotional reachings of his mind. He was utterly astounded, as if +confronting a vague, terrible premonition of the future. Wade's +swift words, like the ring of bells, had not been menacing, but +prophetic.</p> +<p>"Young fellar, you need to be talked to, so if you've got any +sense at all it'll get a wedge in your brain," went on Wade. "I'm a +stranger here. But I happen to be a man who sees through things, +an' I see how your dad handles you wrong. You don't know who I am +an' you don't care. But if you'll listen you'll learn what might +help you.... No boy can answer to all his wild impulses without +ruinin' himself. It's not natural. There are other people--people +who have wills an' desires, same as you have. You've got to live +with people. Here's your dad an' Miss Columbine, an' the cowboys, +an' me, an' all the ranchers, so down to Kremmlin' an' other +places. These are the people you've got to live with. You can't go +on as you've begun, without ruinin' yourself an' your dad an' +the--the girl.... It's never too late to begin to be better. I know +that. But it gets too late, sometimes, to save the happiness of +others. Now I see where you're headin' as clear as if I had +pictures of the future. I've got a gift that way.... An', +Belllounds, you'll not last. Unless you begin to control your +temper, to forget yourself, to kill your wild impulses, to be kind, +to learn what love is--you'll never last!... In the very nature of +things, one comin' after another like your fights with Moore, an' +your scarin' of Pronto, an' your drinkin' at Kremmlin', an' just +now your r'arin' at me--it's in the very nature of life that goin' +on so you'll sooner or later meet with hell! You've got to change, +Belllounds. No half-way, spoiled-boy changin', but the straight +right-about-face of a man!... It means you must see you're no good +an' have a change of heart. Men have revolutions like that. I was +no good. I did worse than you'll ever do, because you're not big +enough to be really bad, an' yet I've turned out worth livin'.... +There, I'm through, an' I'm offerin' to be your friend an' to help +you."</p> +<p>Belllounds stood with arms spread outside the door, still +astounded, still pale; but as the long admonition and appeal ended +he exploded stridently. "Who the hell are <i>you?</i>... If I +hadn't been so surprised--if I'd had a chance to get a word in--I'd +shut your trap! Are you a preacher masquerading here as hunter? Let +me tell you, I won't be talked to like that--not by any man. Keep +your advice an' friendship to yourself."</p> +<p>"You don't want me, then?"</p> +<p>"No," Belllounds snapped.</p> +<p>"Reckon you don't need either advice or friend, hey?"</p> +<p>"No, you owl-eyed, soft-voiced fool!" yelled Belllounds.</p> +<p>It was then Wade felt a singular and familiar sensation, a cold, +creeping thing, physical and elemental, that had not visited him +since he had been at White Slides.</p> +<p>"I reckoned so," he said, with low and gloomy voice, and he +knew, if Belllounds did not know, that he was not acquiescing with +the other's harsh epithet, but only greeting the advent of +something in himself.</p> +<p>Belllounds shrugged his burly shoulders and slouched away.</p> +<p>Wade finished his dressing of the meat. Then he rode up to spend +an hour with Moore. When he returned to his cabin he proceeded to +change his hunter garb for the best he owned. It was a proof of his +unusual preoccupation that he did this before he fed the hounds. It +was sunset when he left his cabin. Montana Jim and Lem hailed as he +went by. Wade paused to listen to their good-natured raillery.</p> +<p>"See hyar, Bent, this ain't Sunday," said Lem.</p> +<p>"You're spruced up powerful fine. What's it fer?" added +Montana.</p> +<p>"Boss asked me down to supper.'</p> +<p>"Wal, you lucky son-of-a-gun! An' hyar we've no invite," +returned Lem. "Say, Wade, I heerd Buster Jack roarin' at you. I was +ridin' in by the storehouse.... 'Who the hell are you?' was what +collared my attention, an' I had to laugh. An' I listened to all he +said. So you was offerin' him advice an' friendship?"</p> +<p>"I reckon."</p> +<p>"Wal, all I say is thet you was wastin' yore breath," declared +Lem. "You're a queer fellar, Wade."</p> +<p>"Queer? Aw, Lem, he ain't queer," said Montana. "He's jest +white. Wade, I feel the same as you. I'd like to do somethin' fer +thet locoed Buster Jack."</p> +<p>"Montana, you're the locoed one," rejoined Lem. "Buster Jack +knows what he's doin'. He can play a slicker hand of poker than +you."</p> +<p>"Wal, mebbe. Wade, do you play poker?"</p> +<p>"I'd hate to take your money," replied Wade.</p> +<p>"You needn't be so all-fired kind about thet. Come over to-night +an' take some of it. Buster Jack invited himself up to our bunk. +He's itchin' fer cards. So we says shore. Blud's goin' to sit in. +Now you come an' make it five-handed."</p> +<p>"Wouldn't young Belllounds object to me?"</p> +<p>"What? Buster Jack shy at gamblin' with you? Not much. He's a +born gambler. He'd bet with his grandmother an' he'd cheat the +coppers off a dead nigger's eyes."</p> +<p>"Slick with cards, eh?" inquired Wade.</p> +<p>"Naw, Jack's not slick. But he tries to be. An' we jest go him +one slicker."</p> +<p>"Wouldn't Old Bill object to this card-playin'?"</p> +<p>"He'd be ory-eyed. But, by Golly! we're not leadin' Jack astray. +An' we ain't hankerin' to play with him. All the same a little game +is welcome enough."</p> +<p>"I'll come over," replied Wade, and thoughtfully turned +away.</p> +<p>When he presented himself at the ranch-house it was Columbine +who let him in. She was prettily dressed, in a way he had never +seen her before, and his heart throbbed. Her smile, her voice added +to her nameless charm, that seemed to come from the past. Her look +was eager and longing, as if his presence might bring something +welcome to her.</p> +<p>Then the rancher stalked in. "Hullo, Wade! Supper's 'most ready. +What's this trouble you had with Jack? He says he won't eat with +you."</p> +<p>"I was offerin' him advice," replied Wade.</p> +<p>"What on?"</p> +<p>"Reckon on general principles."</p> +<p>"Humph! Wal, he told me you harangued him till you was black in +the face, an'--"</p> +<p>"Jack had it wrong. He got black in the face," interrupted +Wade.</p> +<p>"Did you say he was a spoiled boy an' thet he was no good an' +was headin' plumb fer hell?"</p> +<p>"That was a little of what I said," returned Wade, gently.</p> +<p>"Ahuh! How'd thet come about?" queried Belllounds, gruffly. A +slight stiffening and darkening overcast his face.</p> +<p>Wade then recalled and recounted the remarks that had passed +between him and Jack; and he did not think he missed them very far. +He had a great curiosity to see how Belllounds would take them, and +especially the young man's scornful rejection of a sincerely +offered friendship. All the time Wade was talking he was aware of +Columbine watching him, and when he finished it was sweet to look +at her.</p> +<p>"Wade, wasn't you takin' a lot on yourself?" queried the +rancher, plainly displeased.</p> +<p>"Reckon I was. But my conscience is beholden to no man. If Jack +had met me half-way that would have been better for him. An' for +me, because I get good out of helpin' any one."</p> +<p>His reply silenced Belllounds. No more was said before supper +was announced, and then the rancher seemed taciturn. Columbine did +the serving, and most all of the talking. Wade felt strangely at +ease. Some subtle difference was at work in him, transforming him, +but the moment had not yet come for him to question himself. He +enjoyed the supper. And when he ventured to look up at Columbine, +to see her strong, capable hands and her warm, blue glance, glad +for his presence, sweetly expressive of their common secret and +darker with a shadow of meaning beyond her power to guess, then +Wade felt havoc within him, the strife and pain and joy of the +truth he never could reveal. For he could never reveal his identity +to her without betraying his baseness to her mother. Otherwise, to +hear her call him father would have been earning that happiness +with a lie. Besides, she loved Belllounds as her father, and were +this trouble of the present removed she would grow still closer to +the old man in his declining days. Wade accepted the inevitable, +She must never know. If she might love him it must be as the +stranger who came to her gates, it must be through the mysterious +affinity between them and through the service he meant to +render.</p> +<p>Wade did not linger after the meal was ended despite the fact +that Belllounds recovered his cordiality. It was dark when he went +out. Columbine followed him, talking cheerfully. Once outside she +squeezed his hand and whispered, "How's Wilson?"</p> +<p>The hunter nodded his reply, and, pausing at the porch step, he +pressed her hand to make his assurance stronger. His reward was +instant. In the bright starlight she stood white and eloquent, +staring down at him with dark, wide eyes.</p> +<p>Presently she whispered: "Oh, my friend! It wants only three +days till October first!"</p> +<p>"Lass, it might be a thousand years for all you need worry," he +replied, his voice low and full. Then it seemed, as she flung up +her arms, that she was about to embrace him. But her gesture was an +appeal to the stars, to Heaven above, for something she did not +speak.</p> +<p>Wade bade her good night and went his way.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>The cowboys and the rancher's son were about to engage in a game +of poker when Wade entered the dimly lighted, smoke-hazed room. +Montana Jim was sticking tallow candles in the middle of a rude +table; Lem was searching his clothes, manifestly for money; Bludsoe +shuffled a greasy deck of cards, and Jack Belllounds was filling +his pipe before a fire of blazing logs on the hearth.</p> +<p>"Dog-gone it! I hed more money 'n thet," complained Lem. "Jim, +you rode to Kremmlin' last. Did you take my money?"</p> +<p>"Wal, come to think of it, I reckon I did," replied Jim, in +surprise at the recollection.</p> +<p>"An' whar's it now?"</p> +<p>"Pard, I 'ain't no idee. I reckon it's still in Kremmlin'. But +I'll pay you back."</p> +<p>"I should smile you will. Pony up now."</p> +<p>"Bent Wade, did you come over calkilated to git skinned?" +queried Bludsoe.</p> +<p>"Boys, I was playin' poker tolerable well in Missouri when you +all was nursin'," replied Wade, imperturbably.</p> +<p>"I heerd he was a card-sharp," said Jim. "Wal, grab a box or a +chair to set on an' let's start. Come along, Jack; you don't look +as keen to play as usual."</p> +<p>Belllounds stood with his back to the fire and his manner did +not compare favorably with that of the genial cowboys.</p> +<p>"I prefer to play four-handed," he said.</p> +<p>This declaration caused a little check in the conversation and +put an end to the amiability. The cowboys looked at one another, +not embarrassed, but just a little taken aback, as if they had +forgotten something that they should have remembered.</p> +<p>"You object to my playin'?" asked Wade, quietly.</p> +<p>"I certainly do," replied Belllounds.</p> +<p>"Why, may I ask?"</p> +<p>"For all I know, what Montana said about you may be true," +returned Belllounds, insolently.</p> +<p>Such a remark flung in the face of a Westerner was an insult. +The cowboys suddenly grew stiff, with steady eyes on Wade. He, +however, did not change in the slightest.</p> +<p>"I might be a card-sharp at that," he replied, coolly. "You +fellows play without me. I'm not carin' about poker any more. I'll +look on."</p> +<p>Thus he carried over the moment that might have been dangerous. +Lem gaped at him; Montana kicked a box forward to sit upon, and his +action was expressive; Bludsoe slammed the cards down on the table +and favored Wade with a comprehending look. Belllounds pulled a +chair up to the table.</p> +<p>"What'll we make the limit?" asked Jim.</p> +<p>"Two bits," replied Lem, quickly.</p> +<p>Then began an argument. Belllounds was for a dollar limit. The +cowboys objected.</p> +<p>"Why, Jack, if the ole man got on to us playin' a dollar limit +he'd fire the outfit," protested Bludsoe.</p> +<p>This reasonable objection in no wise influenced the old man's +son. He overruled the good arguments, and then hinted at the +cowboys' lack of nerve. The fun faded out of their faces. Lem, in +fact, grew red.</p> +<p>"Wal, if we're agoin' to gamble, thet's different," he said, +with a cold ring in his voice, as he straddled a box and sat down. +"Wade, lemme some money."</p> +<p>Wade slipped his hand into his pocket and drew forth a goodly +handful of gold, which he handed to the cowboy. Not improbably, if +this large amount had been shown earlier, before the change in the +sentiment, Lem would have looked aghast and begged for mercy. As it +was, he accepted it as if he were accustomed to borrowing that much +every day. Belllounds had rendered futile the easy-going, friendly +advances of the cowboys, as he had made it impossible to play a +jolly little game for fun.</p> +<p>The game began, with Wade standing up, looking on. These boys +did not know what a vast store of poker knowledge lay back of +Wade's inscrutable eyes. As a boy he had learned the intricacies of +poker in the country where it originated; and as a man he had +played it with piles of yellow coins and guns on the table. His +eagerness to look on here, as far as the cowboys were concerned, +was mere pretense. In Belllounds's case, however, he had a profound +interest. Rumors had drifted to him from time to time, since his +advent at White Slides, regarding Belllounds's weakness for +gambling. It might have been cowboy gossip. Wade held that there +was nothing in the West as well calculated to test a boy, to prove +his real character, as a game of poker.</p> +<p>Belllounds was a feverish better, an exultant winner, a poor +loser. His understanding of the game was rudimentary. With him, the +strong feeling beginning to be manifested to Wade was not the fun +of matching wits and luck with his antagonists, nor a desire to +accumulate money--for his recklessness disproved that--but the +liberation of the gambling passion. Wade recognized that when he +met it. And Jack Belllounds was not in any sense big. He was +selfish and grasping in the numberless little ways common to the +game, and positive about his own rights, while doubtful of the +claims of others. His cheating was clumsy and crude. He held out +cards, hiding them in his palm; he shuffled the deck so he left +aces at the bottom, and these he would slip off to himself, and he +was so blind that he could not detect his fellow-player in tricks +as transparent as his own. Wade was amazed and disgusted. The pity +he had felt for Belllounds shifted to the old father, who believed +in his son with stubborn and unquenchable faith.</p> +<p>"Haven't you got something to drink?" Jack asked of his +companions.</p> +<p>"Nope. Whar'd we git it?" replied Jim.</p> +<p>Belllounds evidently forgot, for presently he repeated the +query. The cowboys shook their heads. Wade knew they were lying, +for they did have liquor in the cabin. It occurred to him, then, to +offer to go to his own cabin for some, just to see what this young +man would say. But he refrained.</p> +<p>The luck went against Belllounds and so did the gambling. He was +not a lamb among wolves, by any means, but the fleecing he got +suggested that. According to Wade he was getting what he deserved. +No cowboys, even such good-natured and fine fellows as these, could +be expected to be subjects for Belllounds's cupidity. And they won +all he had.</p> +<p>"I'll borrow," he said, with feverish impatience. His face was +pale, clammy, yet heated, especially round the swollen bruises; his +eyes stood out, bold, dark, rolling and glaring, full of sullen +fire. But more than anything else his mouth betrayed the weakling, +the born gambler, the self-centered, spoiled, intolerant youth. It +was here his bad blood showed.</p> +<p>"Wal, I ain't lendin' money," replied Lem, as he assorted his +winnings. "Wade, here's what you staked me, an' much obliged."</p> +<p>"I'm out, an' I can't lend you any," said Jim.</p> +<p>Bludsoe had a good share of the profits of that quick game, but +he made no move to lend any of it. Belllounds glared impatiently at +them.</p> +<p>"Hell! you took my money. I'll have satisfaction," he broke out, +almost shouting.</p> +<p>"We won it, didn't we?" rejoined Lem, cool and easy. "An' you +can have all the satisfaction you want, right now or any time."</p> +<p>Wade held out a handful of money to Belllounds.</p> +<p>"Here," he said, with his deep eyes gleaming in the dim room. +Wade had made a gamble with himself, and it was that Belllounds +would not even hesitate to take money.</p> +<p>"Come on, you stingy cowpunchers," he called out, snatching the +money from Wade. His action then, violent and vivid as it was, did +not reveal any more than his face.</p> +<p>But the cowboys showed amaze, and something more. They fell +straightway to gambling, sharper and fiercer than before, actuated +now by the flaming spirit of this son of Belllounds. Luck, +misleading and alluring, favored Jack for a while, transforming him +until he was radiant, boastful, exultant. Then it changed, as did +his expression. His face grew dark.</p> +<p>"I tell you I want drink," he suddenly demanded. "I know damn +well you cowpunchers have some here, for I smelled it when I came +in."</p> +<p>"Jack, we drank the last drop," replied Jim, who seemed less +stiff than his two bunk-mates.</p> +<p>"I've some very old rye," interposed Wade, looking at Jim, but +apparently addressing all. "Fine stuff, but awful strong an' +hot!... Makes a fellow's blood dance."</p> +<p>"Go get it!" Belllounds's utterance was thick and full, as if he +had something in his mouth.</p> +<p>Wade looked down into the heated face, into the burning eyes; +and through the darkness of passion that brooked no interference +with its fruition he saw this youth's stark and naked soul. Wade +had seen into the depths of many such abysses.</p> +<p>"See hyar, Wade," broke in Jim, with his quiet force, "never +mind fetchin' thet red-hot rye to-night. Some other time, mebbe, +when Jack wants more satisfaction. Reckon we've got a drop or so +left."</p> +<p>"All right, boys," replied Wade, "I'll be sayin' good +night."</p> +<p>He left them playing and strode out to return to his cabin. The +night was still, cold, starlit, and black in the shadows. A +lonesome coyote barked, to be answered by a wakeful hound. Wade +halted at his porch, and lingered there a moment, peering up at the +gray old peak, bare and star-crowned.</p> +<p>"I'm sorry for the old man," muttered the hunter, "but I'd see +Jack Belllounds in hell before I'd let Columbine marry him."</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>October first was a holiday at White Slides Ranch. It happened +to be a glorious autumn day, with the sunlight streaming gold and +amber over the grassy slopes. Far off the purple ranges loomed +hauntingly.</p> +<p>Wade had come down from Wilson Moore's cabin, his ears ringing +with the crippled boy's words of poignant fear.</p> +<p>Fox favored his master with unusually knowing gaze. There was +not going to be any lion-chasing or elk-hunting this day. Something +was in the wind. And Fox, as a privileged dog, manifested his +interest and wonder.</p> +<p>Before noon a buckboard with team of sweating horses halted in +the yard of the ranch-house. Besides the driver it contained two +women whom Belllounds greeted as relatives, and a stranger, a pale +man whose dark garb proclaimed him a minister.</p> +<p>"Come right in, folks," welcomed Belllounds, with hearty +excitement.</p> +<p>It was Wade who showed the driver where to put the horses. +Strangely, not a cowboy was in sight, an omission of duty the +rancher had noted. Wade might have informed him where they +were.</p> +<p>The door of the big living-room stood open, and from it came the +sound of laughter and voices. Wade, who had returned to his seat on +the end of the porch, listened to them, while his keen gaze seemed +fixed down the lane toward the cabins. How intent must he have been +not to hear Columbine's step behind him!</p> +<p>"Good morning, Ben," she said.</p> +<p>Wade wheeled as if internal violence had ordered his +movement.</p> +<p>"Lass, good mornin'," he replied. "You sure look sweet this +October first--like the flower for which you're named."</p> +<p>"My friend, it <i>is</i> October first--my marriage day!" +murmured Columbine.</p> +<p>Wade felt her intensity, and he thrilled to the brave, sweet +resignation of her face. Hope and faith were unquenchable in her, +yet she had fortified herself to the wreck of dreams and love.</p> +<p>"I'd seen you before now, but I had some job with Wils, +persuadin' him that we'd not have to offer you congratulations yet +awhile," replied Wade, in his slow, gentle voice.</p> +<p>"<i>Oh!</i>" breathed Columbine.</p> +<p>Wade saw her full breast swell and the leaping blood wave over +her pale face. She bent to him to see his eyes. And for Wade, when +she peered with straining heart and soul, all at once to become +transfigured, that instant was a sweet and all-fulfilling reward +for his years of pain.</p> +<p>"You drive me mad!" she whispered.</p> +<p>The heavy tread of the rancher, like the last of successive +steps of fate in Wade's tragic expectancy, sounded on the +porch.</p> +<p>"Wal, lass, hyar you are," he said, with a gladness deep in his +voice. "Now, whar's the boy?"</p> +<p>"Dad--I've not--seen Jack since breakfast," replied Columbine, +tremulously.</p> +<p>"Sort of a laggard in love on his weddin'-day," rejoined the +rancher. His gladness and forgetfulness were as big as his heart. +"Wade, have you seen Jack?"</p> +<p>"No--I haven't," replied the hunter, with slow, long-drawn +utterance. "But--I see--him now."</p> +<p>Wade pointed to the figure of Jack Belllounds approaching from +the direction of the cabins. He was not walking straight.</p> +<p>Old man Belllounds shot out his gray head like a striking +eagle.</p> +<p>"What the hell?" he muttered, as if bewildered at this strange, +uneven gait of his son. "Wade, what's the matter with Jack?"</p> +<p>Wade did not reply. That moment had its sorrow for him as well +as understanding of the wonder expressed by Columbine's cold little +hand trembling in his.</p> +<p>The rancher suddenly recoiled.</p> +<p>"So help me Gawd--he's drunk!" he gasped, in a distress that +unmanned him.</p> +<p>Then the parson and the invited relatives came out upon the +porch, with gay voices and laughter that suddenly stilled when old +Belllounds cried, brokenly: "Lass--go--in--the house."</p> +<p>But Columbine did not move, and Wade felt her shaking as she +leaned against him.</p> +<p>The bridegroom approached. Drunk indeed he was; not hilariously, +as one who celebrated his good fortune, but sullenly, tragically, +hideously drunk.</p> +<p>Old Belllounds leaped off the porch. His gray hair stood up like +the mane of a lion. Like a giant's were his strides. With a lunge +he met his reeling son, swinging a huge fist into the sodden red +face. Limply Jack fell to the ground.</p> +<p>"Lay there, you damned prodigal!" he roared, terrible in his +rage. "You disgrace me--an' you disgrace the girl who's been a +daughter to me!... if you ever have another weddin'-day it'll not +be me who sets it!"</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII</h2> +<br> +<p>November was well advanced before there came indications that +winter was near at hand.</p> +<p>One morning, when Wade rode up to Moore's cabin, the whole world +seemed obscured in a dense gray fog, through which he could not see +a rod ahead of him. Later, as he left, the fog had lifted +shoulder-high to the mountains, and was breaking to let the blue +sky show. Another morning it was worse, and apparently thicker and +grayer. As Wade climbed the trail up toward the mountain-basin, +where he hunted most these days, he expected the fog to lift. But +it did not. The trail under the hoofs of the horse was scarcely +perceptible to him, and he seemed lost in a dense, gray, soundless +obscurity.</p> +<p>Suddenly Wade emerged from out the fog into brilliant sunshine. +In amaze he halted. This phenomenon was new to him. He was high up +on the mountain-side, the summit of which rose clear-cut and bold +into the sky. Below him spread what resembled a white sea. It was +an immense cloud-bank, filling all the valleys as if with creamy +foam or snow, soft, thick, motionless, contrasting vividly with the +blue sky above. Old White Slides stood out, gray and bleak and +brilliant, as if it were an island rock in a rolling sea of fleece. +Far across this strange, level cloud-floor rose the black line of +the range. Wade watched the scene with a kind of rapture. He was +alone on the heights. There was not a sound. The winds were +stilled. But there seemed a mighty being awake all around him, in +the presence of which Wade felt how little were his sorrows and +hopes.</p> +<p>Another day brought dull-gray scudding clouds, and gusts of wind +and squalls of rain, and a wailing through the bare aspens. It grew +colder and bleaker and darker. Rain changed to sleet and sleet to +snow. That night brought winter.</p> +<p>Next morning, when Wade plodded up to Moore's cabin, it was +through two feet of snow. A beautiful glistening white mantle +covered valley and slope and mountain, transforming all into a +world too dazzlingly brilliant for the unprotected gaze of man.</p> +<p>When Wade pushed open the door of the cabin and entered he +awakened the cowboy.</p> +<p>"Mornin', Wils," drawled Wade, as he slapped the snow from boots +and legs. "Summer has gone, winter has come, an' the flowers lay in +their graves! How are you, boy?"</p> +<p>Moore had grown paler and thinner during his long confinement in +bed. A weary shade shone in his face and a shadow of pain in his +eyes. But the spirit of his smile was the same as always.</p> +<p>"Hello, Bent, old pard!" replied Moore. "I guess I'm fine. +Nearly froze last night. Didn't sleep much."</p> +<p>"Well, I was worried about that," said the hunter. "We've got to +arrange things somehow."</p> +<p>"I heard it snowing. Gee! how the wind howled! And I'm snowed +in?"</p> +<p>"Sure are. Two feet on a level. It's good I snaked down a lot of +fire-wood. Now I'll set to work an' cut it up an' stack it round +the cabin. Reckon I'd better sleep up here with you, Wils."</p> +<p>"Won't Old Bill make a kick?"</p> +<p>"Let him kick. But I reckon he doesn't need to know anythin' +about it. It is cold in here. Well, I'll soon warm it up.... Here's +some letters Lem got at Kremmlin' the other day. You read while I +rustle some grub for you."</p> +<p>Moore scanned the addresses on the several envelopes and +sighed.</p> +<p>"From home! I hate to read them."</p> +<p>"Why?" queried Wade.</p> +<p>"Oh, because when I wrote I didn't tell them I was hurt. I feel +like a liar."</p> +<p>"It's just as well, Wils, because you swear you'll not go +home."</p> +<p>"Me? I should smile not.... Bent--I--I--hoped Collie might +answer the note you took her from me."</p> +<p>"Not yet. Wils, give the lass time."</p> +<p>"Time? Heavens! it's three weeks and more."</p> +<p>"Go ahead an' read your letters or I'll knock you on the head +with one of these chunks," ordered Wade, mildly.</p> +<p>The hunter soon had the room warm and cheerful, with steaming +breakfast on the red-hot coals. Presently, when he made ready to +serve Moore, he was surprised to find the boy crying over one of +the letters.</p> +<p>"Wils, what's the trouble?" he asked.</p> +<p>"Oh, nothing. I--I--just feel bad, that's all," replied +Moore.</p> +<p>"Ahuh! So it seems. Well, tell me about it?"</p> +<p>"Pard, my father--has forgiven me."</p> +<p>"The old son-of-a-gun! Good! What for? You never told me you'd +done anythin'."</p> +<p>"I know--but I did--do a lot. I was sixteen then. We quarreled. +And I ran off up here to punch cows. But after a while I wrote home +to mother and my sister. Since then they've tried to coax me to +come home. This letter's from the old man himself. Gee!... Well, he +says he's had to knuckle. That he's ready to forgive me. But I must +come home and take charge of his ranch. Isn't that great?... Only I +can't go. And I couldn't--I couldn't ever ride a horse again--if I +did go."</p> +<p>"Who says you couldn't?" queried Wade. "I never said so. I only +said you'd never be a bronco-bustin' cowboy again. Well, suppose +you're not? You'll be able to ride a little, if I can save that +leg.... Boy, your letter is damn good news. I'm sure glad. That +will make Collie happy."</p> +<p>The cowboy had a better appetite that morning, which fact +mitigated somewhat the burden of Wade's worry. There was burden +enough, however, and Wade had set this day to make important +decisions about Moore's injured foot. He had dreaded to remove the +last dressing because conditions at that time had been unimproved. +He had done all he could to ward off the threatened gangrene.</p> +<p>"Wils, I'm goin' to look at your foot an' tell you things," +declared Wade, when the dreaded time could be put off no +longer.</p> +<p>"Go ahead.... And, pard, if you say my leg has to be cut +off--why just pass me my gun!"</p> +<p>The cowboy's voice was gay and bantering, but his eyes were +alight with a spirit that frightened the hunter.</p> +<p>"Ahuh!... I know how you feel. But, boy, I'd rather live with +one leg an' be loved by Collie Belllounds than have nine legs for +some other lass."</p> +<p>Wilson Moore groaned his helplessness.</p> +<p>"Damn you, Bent Wade! You always say what kills me!... Of course +I would!"</p> +<p>"Well, lie quiet now, an' let me look at this poor, messed-up +foot."</p> +<p>Wade's deft fingers did not work with the usual precision and +speed natural to them. But at last Moore's injured member lay bare, +discolored and misshapen. The first glance made the hunter quicker +in his movements, closer in his scrutiny. Then he yelled his +joy.</p> +<p>"Boy, it's better! No sign of gangrene! We'll save your +leg!"</p> +<p>"Pard, I never feared I'd lose that. All I've feared was that +I'd be club-footed.... Let me look," replied the cowboy, and he +raised himself on his elbow. Wade lifted the unsightly foot.</p> +<p>"My God, it's crooked!" cried Moore, passionately. "Wade, it's +healed. It'll stay that way always! I can't move it!... Oh, but +Buster Jack's ruined me!"</p> +<p>The hunter pushed him back with gentle hands. "Wils, it might +have been worse."</p> +<p>"But I never gave up hope," replied Moore, in poignant grief. "I +couldn't. But <i>now!</i>... How can you look at that--that +club-foot, and not swear?"</p> +<p>"Well, well, boy, cussin' won't do any good. Now lay still an' +let me work. You've had lots of good news this mornin'. So I think +you can stand to hear a little bad news."</p> +<p>"What! Bad news?" queried Moore, with a start.</p> +<p>"I reckon. Now listen.... The reason Collie hasn't answered your +note is because she's been sick in bed for three weeks."</p> +<p>"Oh no!" exclaimed the cowboy, in amaze and distress.</p> +<p>"Yes, an' I'm her doctor," replied Wade, with pride. "First off +they had Mrs. Andrews. An' Collie kept askin' for me. She was out +of her head, you know. An' soon as I took charge she got +better."</p> +<p>"Heavens! Collie ill and you never told me!" cried Moore. "I +can't believe it. She's so healthy and strong. What ailed her, +Bent?"</p> +<p>"Well, Mrs. Andrews said it was nervous breakdown. An' Old Bill +was afraid of consumption. An' Jack Belllounds swore she was only +shammin'."</p> +<p>The cowboy cursed violently.</p> +<p>"Here--I won't tell you any more if you're goin' to cuss that +way an' jerk around," protested Wade.</p> +<p>"I--I'll shut up," appealed Moore.</p> +<p>"Well, that puddin'-head Jack is more'n you called him, if you +care to hear my opinion.... Now, Wils, the fact is that none of +them know what ails Collie. But I know. She'd been under a high +strain leadin' up to October first. An' the way that weddin'-day +turned out--with Old Bill layin' Jack cold, an' with no marriage at +all--why, Collie had a shock. An' after that she seemed pale an' +tired all the time an' she didn't eat right. Well, when Buster Jack +got over that awful punch he'd got from the old man he made up to +Collie harder than ever. She didn't tell me then, but I saw it. An' +she couldn't avoid him, except by stayin' in her room, which she +did a good deal. Then Jack showed a streak of bein' decent. He +surprised everybody, even Collie. He delighted Old Bill. But he +didn't pull the wool over my eyes. He was like a boy spoilin' for a +new toy, an' he got crazy over Collie. He's sure terribly in love +with her, an' for days he behaved himself in a way calculated to +make up for his drinkin' too much. It shows he can behave himself +when he wants to. I mean he can control his temper an' impulse. +Anyway, he made himself so good that Old Bill changed his mind, +after what he swore that day, an' set another day for the weddin'. +Right off, then, Collie goes down on her back.... They didn't send +for me very soon. But when I did get to see her, an' felt the way +she grabbed me--as if she was drownin'--then I knew what ailed her. +It was love."</p> +<p>"Love!" gasped Moore, breathlessly.</p> +<p>"Sure. Jest love for a dog-gone lucky cowboy named Wils +Moore!... Her heart was breakin', an' she'd have died but for me! +Don't imagine, Wils, that people can't die of broken hearts. They +do. I know. Well, all Collie needed was me, an' I cured her ravin' +and made her eat, an' now she's comin' along fine."</p> +<p>"Wade, I've believed in Heaven since you came down to White +Slides," burst out Moore, with shining eyes. "But tell me--what did +you tell her?"</p> +<p>"Well, my particular medicine first off was to whisper in her +ear that she'd never have to marry Jack Belllounds. An' after that +I gave her daily doses of talk about you."</p> +<p>"Pard! She loves me--still?" he whispered.</p> +<p>"Wils, hers is the kind that grows stronger with time. I +know."</p> +<p>Moore strained in his intensity of emotion, and he clenched his +fists and gritted his teeth.</p> +<p>"Oh God! this's hard on me!" he cried. "I'm a man. I love that +girl more than life. And to know she's suffering for love of +me--for fear of that marriage being forced upon her--to know that +while I lie here a helpless cripple--it's almost unbearable."</p> +<p>"Boy, you've got to mend now. We've the best of hope now--for +you--for her--for everythin'."</p> +<p>"Wade, I think I love you, too," said the cowboy. "You're saving +me from madness. Somehow I have faith in you--to do whatever you +want. But how could you tell Collie she'd never have to marry +Buster Jack?"</p> +<p>"Because I know she never will," replied Wade, with his slow, +gentle smile.</p> +<p>"You <i>know</i> that?"</p> +<p>"Sure."</p> +<p>"How on earth can you prevent it? Belllounds will never give up +planning that marriage for his son. Jack will nag Collie till she +can't call her soul her own. Between them they will wear her down. +My friend, <i>how</i> can you prevent it?"</p> +<p>"Wils, fact is, I haven't reckoned out how I'm goin' to save +Collie. But that's no matter. Sufficient unto the day is the evil +thereof. I will do it. You can gamble on me, Wils. You must use +that hope an' faith to help you get well. For we mustn't forget +that you're in more danger than Collie."</p> +<p>"I <i>will</i> gamble on you--my life--my very soul," replied +Moore, fervently. "By Heaven! I'll be the man I might have been. +I'll rise out of despair. I'll even reconcile myself to being a +cripple."</p> +<p>"An', Wils, will you rise above hate?" asked Wade, softly.</p> +<p>"Hate! Hate of whom?"</p> +<p>"Jack Belllounds."</p> +<p>The cowboy stared, and his lean, pale face contracted.</p> +<p>"Pard, you wouldn't--you couldn't expect me to--to forgive +him?"</p> +<p>"No. I reckon not. But you needn't hate him. I don't. An' I +reckon I've some reason, more than you could guess.... Wils, hate +is a poison in the blood. It's worse for him who feels it than for +him against whom it rages. I know.... Well, if you put thought of +Jack out of your mind--quit broodin' over what he did to you--an' +realize that he's not to blame, you'll overcome your hate. For the +son of Old Bill is to be pitied. Yes, Jack Belllounds needs pity. +He was ruined before he was born. He never should have been born. +An' I want you to understand that, an' stop hatin' him. Will you +try?"</p> +<p>"Wade, you're afraid I'll kill him?" whispered Moore.</p> +<p>"Sure. That's it. I'm afraid you might. An' consider how hard +that would be for Columbine. She an' Jack were raised sister an' +brother, almost. It would be hard on her. You see, Collie has a +strange an' powerful sense of duty to Old Bill. If you killed Jack +it would likely kill the old man, an' Collie would suffer all her +life. You couldn't cure her of that. You want her to be happy."</p> +<p>"I do--I do. Wade, I swear I'll never kill Buster Jack. And for +Collie's sake I'll try not to hate him."</p> +<p>"Well, that's fine. I'm sure glad to hear you promise that. Now +I'll go out an' chop some wood. We mustn't let the fire go out any +more."</p> +<p>"Pard, I'll write another note--a letter to Collie. Hand me the +blank-book there. And my pencil.... And don't hurry with the +wood."</p> +<p>Wade went outdoors with his two-bladed ax and shovel. The +wood-pile was a great mound of snow. He cleaned a wide space and a +path to the side of the cabin. Working in snow was not unpleasant +for him. He liked the cleanness, the whiteness, the absolute purity +of new-fallen snow. The air was crisp and nipping, the frost +crackled under his feet, the smoke from his pipe seemed no thicker +than the steam from his breath, the ax rang on the hard aspens. +Wade swung this implement like a born woodsman. The chips flew and +the dead wood smelled sweet. Some logs he chopped into three-foot +pieces; others he chopped and split. When he tired a little of +swinging the ax he carried the cut pieces to the cabin and stacked +them near the door. Now and then he would halt a moment to gaze +away across the whitened slopes and rolling hills. The sense of his +physical power matched something within, and his heart warmed with +more than the vigorous exercise.</p> +<p>When he had worked thus for about two hours and had stacked a +pile of wood almost as large as the cabin he considered it +sufficient for the day. So he went indoors. Moore was so busily and +earnestly writing that he did not hear Wade come in. His face wore +an eloquent glow.</p> +<p>"Say, Wils, are you writin' a book?" he inquired.</p> +<p>"Hello! Sure I am. But I'm 'most done now.... If Columbine +doesn't answer <i>this</i> ..."</p> +<p>"By the way, I'll have two letters to give her, then--for I +never gave her the first one," replied Wade.</p> +<p>"You son-of-a-gun!"</p> +<p>"Well, hurry along, boy. I'll be goin' now. Here's a pole I've +fetched in. You keep it there, where you can reach it, an' when the +fire needs more wood you roll one of these logs on. I'll be up +to-night before dark, an' if I don't fetch you a letter it'll be +because I can't persuade Collie to write."</p> +<p>"Pard, if you bring me a letter I'll obey you--I'll lie +still--I'll sleep--I'll stand anything."</p> +<p>"Ahuh! Then I'll fetch one," replied Wade, as he took the little +book and deposited it in his pocket. "Good-by, now, an' think of +your good news that come with the snow."</p> +<p>"Good-by, Heaven-Sent Hell-Bent Wade!" called Moore. "It's no +joke of a name any more. It's a fact."</p> +<p>Wade plodded down through the deep snow, stepping in his old +tracks, and as he toiled on his thoughts were deep and comforting. +He was thinking that if he had his life to live over again he would +begin at once to find happiness in other people's happiness. Upon +arriving at his cabin he set to work cleaning a path to the dog +corral. The snow had drifted there and he had no easy task. It was +well that he had built an inclosed house for the hounds to winter +in. Such a heavy snow as this one would put an end to hunting for +the time being. The ranch had ample supply of deer, bear, and elk +meat, all solidly frozen this morning, that would surely keep well +until used. Wade reflected that his tasks round the ranch would be +feeding hounds and stock, chopping wood, and doing such chores as +came along in winter-time. The pack of hounds, which he had thinned +out to a smaller number, would be a care on his hands. Kane had +become a much-prized possession of Columbine's and lived at the +house, where he had things his own way, and always greeted Wade +with a look of disdain and distrust. Kane would never forgive the +hand that had hurt him. Sampson and Jim and Fox, of course, shared +Wade's cabin, and vociferously announced his return.</p> +<p>Early in the afternoon Wade went down to the ranch-house. The +snow was not so deep there, having blown considerably in the open +places. Some one was pounding iron in the blacksmith shop; horses +were cavorting in the corrals; cattle were bawling round the +hay-ricks in the barn-yard.</p> +<p>The hunter knocked on Columbine's door.</p> +<p>"Come in," she called.</p> +<p>Wade entered, to find her alone. She was sitting up in bed, +propped up with pillows, and she wore a warm, woolly jacket or +dressing-gown. Her paleness was now marked, and the shadows under +her eyes made them appear large and mournful.</p> +<p>"Ben Wade, you don't care for me any more!" she exclaimed, +reproachfully.</p> +<p>"Why not, lass?" he asked.</p> +<p>"You were so long in coming," she replied, now with petulance. +"I guess now I don't want you at all."</p> +<p>"Ahuh! That's the reward of people who worry an' work for +others. Well, then, I reckon I'll go back an' not give you what I +brought."</p> +<p>He made a pretense of leaving, and he put a hand to his pocket +as if to insure the safety of some article. Columbine blushed. She +held out her hands. She was repentant of her words and curious as +to his.</p> +<p>"Why, Ben Wade, I count the minutes before you come," she said. +"What'd you bring me?"</p> +<p>"Who's been in here?" he asked, going forward. "That's a poor +fire. I'll have to fix it."</p> +<p>"Mrs. Andrews just left. It was good of her to drive up. She +came in the sled, she said. Oh, Ben, it's winter. There was snow on +my bed when I woke up. I think I am better to-day. Jack hasn't been +in here yet!"</p> +<p>At this Wade laughed, and Columbine followed suit.</p> +<p>"Well, you look a little sassy to-day, which I take is a good +sign," said Wade. "I've got some news that will come near to makin' +you well."</p> +<p>"Oh, tell it quick!" she cried.</p> +<p>"Wils won't lose his leg. It's gettin' well. An' there was a +letter from his father, forgivin' him for somethin' he never told +me."</p> +<p>"My prayers were answered!" whispered Columbine, and she closed +her eyes tight.</p> +<p>"An' his father wants him to come home to run the ranch," went +on Wade.</p> +<p>"Oh!" Her eyes popped open with sudden fright. "But he can't--he +won't go?"</p> +<p>"I reckon not. He wouldn't if he could. But some day he will, +an' take you home with him."</p> +<p>Columbine covered her face with her hands, and was silent a +moment.</p> +<p>"Such prophecies! They--they--" She could not conclude.</p> +<p>"Ahuh! I know. The strange fact is, lass, that they all come +true. I wish I had all happy ones, instead of them black, croakin' +ones that come like ravens.... Well, you're better to-day?"</p> +<p>"Yes. Oh yes. Ben, what have you got for me?"</p> +<p>"You're in an awful hurry. I want to talk to you, an' if I show +what I've got then there will be no talkin'. You say Jack hasn't +been in to-day?"</p> +<p>"Not yet, thank goodness."</p> +<p>"How about Old Bill?"</p> +<p>"Ben, you never call him my dad. I wish you would. When you +<i>don't</i> it always reminds me that he's really <i>not</i> my +dad."</p> +<p>"Ahuh! Well, well!" replied Wade, with his head bowed. "It is +just queer I can never remember.... An' how was he to-day?"</p> +<p>"For a wonder he didn't mention poor me. He was full of talk +about going to Kremmling. Means to take Jack along. Do you know, +Ben, dad can't fool me. He's afraid to leave Jack here alone with +me. So dad talked a lot about selling stock an' buying supplies, +and how he needed Jack to go, and so forth. I'm mighty glad he +means to take him. But my! won't Jack be sore."</p> +<p>"I reckon. It's time he broke out."</p> +<p>"And now, dear Ben--what have you got for me? I know it's from +Wilson," she coaxed.</p> +<p>"Lass, would you give much for a little note from Wils?" asked +Wade, teasingly.</p> +<p>"Would I? When I've been hoping and praying for just that!"</p> +<p>"Well, if you'd give so much for a note, how much would you give +me for a whole bookful that took Wils two hours to write?"</p> +<p>"Ben! Oh, I'd--I'd give--" she cried, wild with delight. "I'd +<i>kiss</i> you!"</p> +<p>"You mean it?" he queried, waving the book aloft.</p> +<p>"Mean it? Come here!"</p> +<p>There was fun in this for Wade, but also a deep and beautiful +emotion that quivered through him. Bending over her, he placed the +little book in her hand. He did not see clearly, then, as she +pulled him lower and kissed him on the cheek, generously, with +sweet, frank gratitude and affection.</p> +<p>Moments strong and all-satisfying had been multiplying for Bent +Wade of late. But this one magnified all. As he sat back upon the +chair he seemed a little husky of voice.</p> +<p>"Well, well, an' so you kissed ugly old Bent Wade?"</p> +<p>"Yes, and I've wanted to do it before," she retorted. The dark +excitation in her eyes, the flush of her pale cheeks, made her +beautiful then.</p> +<p>"Lass, now you read your letter an' answer it. You can tear out +the pages. I'll sit here an' be makin' out to be readin' aloud out +of this book here, if any one happens in sudden-like!"</p> +<p>"Oh, how you think of everything!"</p> +<p>The hunter sat beside her pretending to be occupied with the +book he had taken from the table when really he was stealing +glances at her face. Indeed, she was more than pretty then. Illness +and pain had enhanced the sweetness of her expression. As she read +on it was manifest that she had forgotten the hunter's presence. +She grew pink, rosy, scarlet, radiant. And Wade thrilled with her +as she thrilled, loved her more and more as she loved. Moore must +have written words of enchantment. Wade's hungry heart suffered a +pang of jealousy, but would not harbor it. He read in her perusal +of that letter what no other dreamed of, not even the girl herself; +and it was certitude of tragic and brief life for her if she could +not live for Wilson Moore. Those moments of watching her were +unutterably precious to Wade. He saw how some divine guidance had +directed his footsteps to this home. How many years had it taken +him to get there! Columbine read and read and reread--a girl with +her first love-letter. And for Wade, with his keen eyes that seemed +to see the senses and the soul, there shone something infinite +through her rapture. Never until that unguarded moment had he +divined her innocence, nor had any conception been given him of the +exquisite torture of her maiden fears or the havoc of love fighting +for itself. He learned then much of the mystery and meaning of a +woman's heart.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII</h2> +<br> +<blockquote>Dear Wilson,--The note and letter from you have taken +my breath away. I couldn't tell--I wouldn't dare tell, how they +made me feel.<br> +<br> +"Your good news fills me with joy. And when Ben told me you +wouldn't lose your leg--that you would get well--then my eyes +filled and my heart choked me, and I thanked God, who'd answered my +prayers. After all the heartache and dread, it's so wonderful to +find things not so terrible as they seemed. Oh, I am thankful! You +have only to take care of yourself now, to lie patiently and wait, +and obey Ben, and soon the time will have flown by and you will be +well again. Maybe, after all, your foot will not be so bad. Maybe +you can ride again, if not so wonderfully as before, then well +enough to ride on your father's range and look after his stock. +For, Wilson dear, you'll have to go home. It's your duty. Your +father must be getting old now. He needs you. He has forgiven +you--you bad boy! And you are very lucky. It almost kills me to +think of your leaving White Slides. But that is selfish. I'm going +to learn to be like Ben Wade. He never thinks of himself.<br> +<br> +"Rest assured, Wilson, that I will never marry Jack Belllounds. It +seems years since that awful October first. I gave my word then, +and I would have lived up to it. But I've changed. I'm older. I see +things differently. I love dad as well. I feel as sorry for Jack +Belllounds. I still think I might help him. I still believe in my +duty to his father. But I can't marry him. It would be a sin. I +have no right to marry a man whom I do not love. When it comes to +thought of his touching me, then I hate him. Duty toward dad is one +thing, and I hold it high, but that is not reason enough for a +woman to give herself. Some duty to myself is higher than that. +It's hard for me to tell you--for me to understand. Love of you has +opened my eyes. Still I don't think it's love of you that makes me +selfish. I'm true to something in me that I never knew before. I +could marry Jack, loving you, and utterly sacrifice myself, if it +were right. But it would be wrong. I never realized this until you +kissed me. Since then the thought of anything that approaches +personal relations--any hint of intimacy with Jack fills me with +disgust.<br> +<br> +"So I'm not engaged to Jack Belllounds, and I'm never going to be. +There will be trouble here. I feel it. I see it coming. Dad keeps +at me persistently. He grows older. I don't think he's failing, but +then there's a loss of memory, and an almost childish obsession in +regard to the marriage he has set his heart on. Then his passion +for Jack seems greater as he learns little by little that Jack is +not all he might be. Wilson, I give you my word; I believe if dad +ever really sees Jack as I see him or you see him, then something +dreadful will happen. In spite of everything dad still believes in +Jack. It's beautiful and terrible. That's one reason why I've +wanted to help Jack. Well, it's not to be. Every day, every hour, +Jack Belllounds grows farther from me. He and his father will try +to persuade me to consent to this marriage. They may even try to +force me. But in that way I'll be as hard and as cold as Old White +Slides. No! Never! For the rest, I'll do my duty to dad. I'll stick +to him. I could not engage myself to you, no matter how much I love +you. And that's more every minute!... So don't mention taking me to +your home--don't ask me again. Please, Wilson; your asking shook my +very soul! Oh, how sweet that would be--your wife!... But if dad +turns me away--I don't think he would. Yet he's so strange and like +iron for all concerning Jack. If ever he turned me out I'd have no +home. I'm a waif, you know. Then--then, Wilson ... Oh, it's +horrible to be in the position I'm in. I won't say any more. You'll +understand, dear.<br> +<br> +"It's your love that awoke me, and it's Ben Wade who has saved me. +Wilson, I love him almost as I do dad, only strangely. Do you know +I believe he had something to do with Jack getting drunk that awful +October first. I don't mean Ben would stoop to get Jack drunk. But +he might have cunningly put that opportunity in Jack's way. Drink +is Jack's weakness, as gambling is his passion. Well, I know that +the liquor was some fine old stuff which Ben gave to the cowboys. +And it's significant now how Jack avoids Ben. He hates him. He's +afraid of him. He's jealous because Ben is so much with me. I've +heard Jack rave to dad about this. But dad is just to others, if he +can't be to his son.<br> +<br> +"And so I want you to know that it's Ben Wade who has saved me. +Since I've been sick I've learned more of Ben. He's like a woman. +He understands. I never have to tell him anything. You, Wilson, +were sometimes stupid or stubborn (forgive me) about little things +that girls feel but can't explain. Ben knows. I tell you this +because I want you to understand how and why I love him. I think I +love him most for his goodness to you. Dear boy, if I hadn't loved +you before Ben Wade came I'd have fallen in love with you since, +just listening to his talk of you. But this will make you +conceited. So I'll go on about Ben. He's our friend. Why, Wilson, +that sweetness, softness, gentleness about him, the heart that +makes him love us, that must be only the woman in him. I don't know +what a mother would feel like, but I do know that I seem strangely +happier since I've confessed my troubles to this man. It was Lem +who told me how Ben offered to be a friend to Jack. And Jack +flouted him. I've a queer notion that the moment Jack did this he +turned his back on a better life.<br> +<br> +"To repeat, then, Ben Wade is our friend, and to me something more +that I've tried to explain. Maybe telling you this will make you +think more of him and listen to his advice. I hope so. Did any boy +and girl ever before so need a friend? I need that something he +instils in me. If I lost it I'd be miserable. And, Wilson, I'm such +a coward. I'm so weak. I have such sinkings and burnings and +tossings. Oh, I'm only a woman! But I'll die fighting. That is what +Ben Wade instils into me. While there was life this strange little +man would never give up hope. He makes me feel that he knows more +than he tells. Through him I shall get the strength to live up to +my convictions, to be true to myself, to be faithful to you.<br> +<br> +<blockquote>"With love,<br> + "COLUMBINE."</blockquote> +<br> +<br> +<blockquote>"December 3d.</blockquote> +<br> +"DEAREST COLLIE,--Your last was only a note, and I told Wade if he +didn't fetch more than a note next time there would be trouble +round this bunk-house. And then he brought your letter!<br> +<br> +"I'm feeling exuberant (I think it's that) to-day. First time I've +been up. Collie, I'm able to get up! WHOOPEE! I walk with a crutch, +and don't dare put my foot down. Not that it hurts, but that my +boss would have a fit! I'm glad you've stopped heaping praise upon +our friend Ben. Because now I can get over my jealousy and be half +decent. He's the whitest man I ever knew.<br> +<br> +"Now listen, Collie. I've had ideas lately. I've begun to eat and +get stronger and to feel good. The pain is gone. And to think I +swore to Wade I'd forgive Jack Belllounds and never hate him--or +kill him!... There, that's letting the cat out of the bag, and it's +done now. But no matter. The truth is, though, that I never could +stop hating Jack while the pain lasted. Now I could shake hands +with him and smile at him.<br> +<br> +"Well, as I said, I've ideas. They're great. Grab hold of the +pommel now so you won't get thrown! I'm going to pitch!... When I +get well--able to ride and go about, which Ben says will be in the +spring--I'll send for my father to come to White Slides. He'll +come. Then I'll tell him everything, and if Ben and I can't win him +to our side then <i>you</i> can. Father never could resist you. +When he has fallen in love with you, which won't take long, then +we'll go to old Bill Belllounds and lay the case before him. Are +you still in the saddle, Collie?<br> +<br> +"Well, if you are, be sure to get a better hold, for I'm going to +run some next. Ben Wade approved of my plan. He says Belllounds can +be brought to reason. He says he can make him see the ruin for +everybody were you forced to marry Jack. Strange, Collie, how Wade +included himself with, you, me, Jack, and the old man, in the +foreshadowed ruin! Wade is as deep as the cañon there. +Sometimes when he's thoughtful he gives me a creepy feeling. At +others, when he comes out with one of his easy, cool assurances +that we are all right--that we will get each other--why, then +something grim takes possession of me. I believe him, I'm happy, +but there crosses my mind a fleeting realization--not of what our +friend is now, but what he has been. And it disturbs me, chills me. +I don't understand it. For, Collie, though I understand your +feeling of what he is, I don't understand mine. You see, I'm a man. +I've been a cowboy for ten years and more. I've seen some hard +experiences and worked with a good many rough boys and men. +Cowboys, Indians, Mexicans, miners, prospectors, ranchers, +hunters--some of whom were bad medicine. So I've come to see men as +you couldn't see them. And Bent Wade has been everything a man +could be. He seems all men in one. And despite all his kindness and +goodness and hopefulness, there is the sense I have of something +deadly and terrible and inevitable in him.<br> +<br> +"It makes my heart almost stop beating to know I have this man on +my side. Because I sense in him the man element, the physical--oh, +I can't put it in words, but I mean something great in him that +can't be beaten. What he says <i>must</i> come true!... And so I've +already begun to dream and to think of you as my wife. If you ever +are--no! <i>when</i> you are, then I will owe it to Bent Wade. No +man ever owed another for so precious a gift. But, Collie, I can't +help a little vague dread--of what, I don't know, unless it's a +sense of the possibilities of Hell--Bent Wade.... Dearest, I don't +want to worry you or frighten you, and I can't follow out my own +gloomy fancies. Don't you mind too much what I think. Only you must +realize that Wade is the greatest factor in our hopes of the +future. My faith in him is so unshakable that it's foolish. Next to +you I love him best. He seems even dearer to me than my own people. +He has made me look at life differently. Likewise he has inspired +you. But you, dearest Columbine, are only a sensitive, delicate +girl, a frail and tender thing like the columbine flowers of the +hills. And for your own sake you must not be blind to what Wade is +capable of. If you keep on loving him and idealizing him, blind to +what has made him great, that is, blind to the tragic side of him, +then if he did something terrible here for you and for me the shock +would be bad for you. Lord knows I have no suspicions of Wade. I +have no clear ideas at all. But I do know that for you he would not +stop at anything. He loves you as much as I do, only differently. +Such power a pale, sweet-faced girl has over the lives of men!<br> +<br> +"Good-by for this time.<br> +<br> +<blockquote>"Faithfully,<br> + "WILSON."</blockquote> +<br> +<br> +<blockquote>"January 10th.</blockquote> +<br> +"DEAR WILSON,--In every letter I tell you I'm better! Why, pretty +soon there'll be nothing left to say about my health. I've been up +and around now for days, but only lately have I begun to gain. +Since Jack has been away I'm getting fat. I eat, and that's one +reason I suppose. Then I move around more.<br> +<br> +"You ask me to tell you all I do. Goodness! I couldn't and I +wouldn't. You are getting mighty bossy since you're able to hobble +around, as you call it. But you can't boss <i>me!</i> However, I'll +be nice and tell you a little. I don't work very much. I've helped +dad with his accounts, all so hopelessly muddled since he let Jack +keep the books. I read a good deal. Your letters are worn out! +Then, when it snows, I sit by the window and watch. I love to see +the snowflakes fall, so fleecy and white and soft! But I don't like +the snowy world after the storm has passed. I shiver and hug the +fire. I must have Indian in me. On moonlit nights to look out at +Old White Slides, so cold and icy and grand, and over the white +hills and ranges, makes me shudder. I don't know why. It's all +beautiful. But it seems to me like death.... Well, I sit idly a lot +and think of you and how terribly big my love has grown, and ... +but that's all about that!<br> +<br> +"As you know, Jack has been gone since before New Year's Day. He +said he was going to Kremmling. But dad heard he went to Elgeria. +Well, I didn't tell you that dad and Jack quarreled over money. +Jack kept up his good behavior for so long that I actually believed +he'd changed for the better. He kept at me, not so much on the +marriage question, but to love him. Wilson, he nearly drove me +frantic with his lovemaking. Finally I got mad and I pitched into +him. Oh, I convinced him! Then he came back to his own self again. +Like a flash he was Buster Jack once more. "You can go to hell!" he +yelled at me. And such a look!... Well, he went out, and that's +when he quarreled with dad. It was about money. I couldn't help but +hear some of it. I don't know whether or not dad gave Jack money, +but I think he didn't. Anyway, Jack went.<br> +<br> +"Dad was all right for a few days. Really, he seemed nicer and +kinder for Jack's absence. Then all at once he sank into the +glooms. I couldn't cheer him up. When Ben Wade came in after supper +dad always got him to tell some of those terrible stories. You know +what perfectly terrible stories Ben can tell. Well, dad had to hear +the worst ones. And poor me, I didn't want to listen, but I +couldn't resist. Ben <i>can</i> tell stories. And oh, what he's +lived through!<br> +<br> +"I got the idea it wasn't Jack's absence so much that made dad sit +by the hour before the fire, staring at the coals, sighing, and +looking so God-forsaken. My heart just aches for dad. He broods and +broods. He'll break out some day, and then I don't want to be here. +There doesn't seem to be any idea when Jack will come home. He +might never come. But Ben says he will. He says Jack hates work and +that he couldn't be gambler enough or wicked enough to support +himself without working. Can't you hear Ben Wade say that? 'I'll +tell you,' he begins, and then comes a prophecy of trouble or evil. +And, on the other hand, think how he used to say: 'Wait! Don't give +up! Nothin' is ever so bad as it seems at first! Be true to what +your heart says is right! It's never too late! Love is the only +good in life! Love each other and wait and trust! It'll all come +right in the end!'... And, Wilson, I'm bound to confess that both +his sense of calamity and his hope of good seem infallible. Ben +Wade is supernatural. Sometimes, just for a moment, I dare to let +myself believe in what he says--that our dream will come true and +I'll be yours. Then oh! oh! oh! joy and stars and bells and heaven! +I--I ... But what <i>am</i> I writing? Wilson Moore, this is quite +enough for to-day. Take care you don't believe I'm so--so +<i>very</i> much in love.<br> +<br> +<blockquote>"Ever,<br> + "COLUMBINE."</blockquote> +<br> +<br> +<blockquote>"<i>February</i> ----.</blockquote> +<br> +"DEAREST COLLIE,--I don't know the date, but spring's coming. +To-day I kicked Bent Wade with my once sore foot. It didn't hurt +me, but hurt Wade's feelings. He says there'll be no holding me +soon. I should say not. I'll eat you up. I'm as hungry as the +mountain-lion that's been prowling round my cabin of nights. He's +sure starved. Wade tracked him to a hole in the cliff.<br> +<br> +"Collie, I can get around first rate. Don't need my crutch any +more. I can make a fire and cook a meal. Wade doesn't think so, but +I do. He says if I want to hold your affection, not to let you eat +anything I cook. I can rustle around, too. Haven't been far yet. My +stock has wintered fairly well. This valley is sheltered, you know. +Snow hasn't been too deep. Then I bought hay from Andrews. I'm +hoping for spring now, and the good old sunshine on the gray sage +hills. And summer, with its columbines! Wade has gone back to his +own cabin to sleep. I miss him. But I'm glad to have the nights +alone once more. I've got a future to plan! Read that over, +Collie.<br> +<br> +"To-day, when Wade came with your letter, he asked me, sort of +queer, 'Say, Wils, do you know how many letters I've fetched you +from Collie?' I said, 'Lord, no, I don't, but they're a lot.' Then +he said there were just forty-seven letters. Forty-seven! I +couldn't believe it, and told him he was crazy. I never had such +good fortune. Well, he made me count them, and, dog-gone it, he was +right. Forty-seven wonderful love-letters from the sweetest girl on +earth! But think of Wade remembering every one! It beats me. He's +beyond understanding.<br> +<br> +"So Jack Belllounds still stays away from White Slides. Collie, I'm +sure sorry for his father. What it would be to have a son like +Buster Jack! My God! But for your sake I go around yelling and +singing like a locoed Indian. Pretty soon spring will come. Then, +you wild-flower of the hills, you girl with the sweet mouth and the +sad eyes--then I'm coming after you! And all the king's horses and +all the king's men can never take you away from me again!<br> +<br> +<blockquote>"Your faithful<br> + "WILSON."</blockquote> +<br> +<br> +<blockquote>"March 19th.</blockquote> +<br> +"DEAREST WILSON,--Your last letters have been read and reread, and +kept under my pillow, and have been both my help and my weakness +during these trying days since Jack's return.<br> +<br> +"It has not been that I was afraid to write--though, Heaven knows, +if this letter should fall into the hands of dad it would mean +trouble for me, and if Jack read it--I <i>am</i> afraid to think of +that! I just have not had the heart to write you. But all the time +I knew I must write and that I would. Only, now, what to say +tortures me. I am certain that confiding in you relieves me. That's +why I've told you so much. But of late I find it harder to tell +what I know about Jack Belllounds. I'm in a queer state of mind, +Wilson dear. And you'll wonder, and you'll be sorry to know I +haven't seen much of Ben lately--that is, not to talk to. It seems +I can't <i>bear</i> his faith in me, his hope, his love--when +lately matters have driven me into torturing doubt.<br> +<br> +"But lest you might misunderstand, I'm going to try to tell you +something of what is on my mind, and I want you to read it to Ben. +He has been hurt by my strange reluctance to be with him.<br> +<br> +"Jack came home on the night of March second. You'll remember that +day, so gloomy and dark and dreary. It snowed and sleeted and +rained. I remember how the rain roared on the roof. It roared so +loud we didn't hear the horse. But we heard heavy boots on the +porch outside the living-room, and the swish of a slicker thrown to +the floor. There was a bright fire. Dad looked up with a wild joy. +All of a sudden he changed. He blazed. He recognized the heavy +tread of his son. If I ever pitied and loved him it was then. I +thought of the return of the Prodigal Son!... There came a knock on +the door. Then dad recovered. He threw it open wide. The streaming +light fell upon Jack Belllounds, indeed, but not as I knew him. He +entered. It was the first time I ever saw Jack look in the least +like a man. He was pale, haggard, much older, sullen, and bold. He +strode in with a 'Howdy, folks,' and threw his wet hat on the +floor, and walked to the fire. His boots were soaked with water and +mud. His clothes began to steam.<br> +<br> +"When I looked at dad I was surprised. He seemed cool and bright, +with the self-contained force usual for him when something critical +is about to happen.<br> +<br> +"'Ahuh! So you come back,' he said.<br> +<br> +"'Yes, I'm home,' replied Jack.<br> +<br> +"'Wal, it took you quite a spell to get hyar.'<br> +<br> +"'Do you want me to stay?'<br> +<br> +"This question from Jack seemed to stump dad. He stared. Jack had +appeared suddenly, and his manner was different from that with +which he used to face dad. He had something up his sleeve, as the +cowboys say. He wore an air of defiance and indifference.<br> +<br> +"'I reckon I do,' replied dad, deliberately. 'What do you mean by +askin' me thet?'<br> +<br> +"'I'm of age, long ago. You can't make me stay home. I can do as I +like.'<br> +<br> +"'Ahuh! I reckon you think you can. But not hyar at White Slides. +If you ever expect to get this property you'll not do as you +like.'<br> +<br> +"'To hell with that. I don't care whether I ever get it or +not.'<br> +<br> +"Dad's face went as white as a sheet. He seemed shocked. After a +moment he told me I'd better go to my room. I was about to go when +Jack said: 'No, let her stay. She'd best hear now what I've got to +say. It concerns her.'<br> +<br> +"'So ho! Then you've got a heap to say?' exclaimed dad, queerly. +'All right, you have your say first.'<br> +<br> +"Jack then began to talk in a level and monotonous voice, so unlike +him that I sat there amazed. He told how early in the winter, +before he left the ranch, he had found out that he was honestly in +love with me. That it had changed him--made him see he had never +been any good--and inflamed him with the resolve to be better. He +had tried. He had succeeded. For six weeks he had been all that +could have been asked of any young man. I am bound to confess that +he was!... Well, he went on to say how he had fought it out with +himself until he absolutely <i>knew</i> he could control himself. +The courage and inspiration had come from his love for me. That was +the only good thing he'd ever felt. He wanted dad and he wanted me +to understand absolutely, without any doubt, that he had found a +way to hold on to his good intentions and good feelings. And that +was for <i>me!</i>... I was struck all a-tremble at the truth. It +was true! Well, then he forced me to a decision. Forced me, without +ever hinting of this change, this possibility in him. I had told +him I <i>couldn't</i> love him. Never! Then he said I could go to +hell and he gave up. Failing to get money from dad he stole it, +without compunction and without regret! He had gone to Kremmling, +then to Elgeria.<br> +<br> +"'I let myself go,' he said, without shame, 'and I drank and +gambled. When I was drunk I didn't remember Collie. But when I was +sober I did. And she haunted me. That grew worse all the time. So I +drank to forget her.... The money lasted a great deal longer than I +expected. But that was because I won as much as I lost, until +lately. Then I borrowed a good deal from those men I gambled with, +but mostly from ranchers who knew my father would be +responsible.... I had a shooting-scrape with a man named Elbert, in +Smith's place at Elgeria. We quarreled over cards. He cheated. And +when I hit him he drew on me. But he missed. Then I shot him.... He +lived three days--and died. That sobered me. And once more there +came to me truth of what I might have been. I went back to +Kremmling. And I tried myself out again. I worked awhile for +Judson, who was the rancher I had borrowed most from. At night I +went into town and to the saloons, where I met my gambling cronies. +I put myself in the atmosphere of drink and cards. And I resisted +both. I could make myself indifferent to both. As soon as I was +sure of myself I decided to come home. And here I am.'<br> +<br> +"This long speech of Jack's had a terrible effect upon me. I was +stunned and sick. But if it did that to me <i>what</i> did it do to +dad? Heaven knows, I can't tell you. Dad gave a lurch, and a great +heave, as if at the removal of a rope that had all but strangled +him.<br> +<br> +"Ahuh-huh!' he groaned. 'An' now you're hyar--what's thet +mean?'<br> +<br> +"It means that it's not yet too late,' replied Jack. 'Don't +misunderstand me. I'm not repenting with that side of me which is +bad. But I've sobered up. I've had a shock. I see my ruin. I still +love you, dad, despite--the cruel thing you did to me. I'm your son +and I'd like to make up to you for all my shortcomings. And so help +me Heaven! I can do that, and will do it, if Collie will marry me. +Not only marry me--that'd not be enough--but love me--I'm crazy for +her love. It's terrible.'<br> +<br> +"You spoiled weaklin'!' thundered dad. 'How 'n hell can I believe +you?'<br> +<br> +"Because I know it,' declared Jack, standing right up to his +father, white and unflinching.<br> +<br> +"Then dad broke out in such a rage that I sat there scared so stiff +I could not move. My heart beat thick and heavy. Dad got livid of +face, his hair stood up, his eyes rolled. He called Jack every name +I ever heard any one call him, and then a thousand more. Then he +cursed him. Such dreadful curses! Oh, how sad and terrible to hear +dad!<br> +<br> +"Right you are!' cried Jack, bitter and hard and ringing of voice. +'Right, by God! But am I all to blame? Did I bring myself here on +this earth!... There's something wrong in me that's not all my +fault.... You can't shame me or scare me or hurt me. I could fling +in your face those damned three years of hell you sent me to! But +what's the use for you to roar at me or for me to reproach you? I'm +ruined unless you give me Collie--make her love me. That will save +me. And I want it for your sake and hers--not for my own. Even if I +do love her madly I'm not wanting her for that. I'm no good. I'm +not fit to touch her.... I've just come to tell you the truth. I +feel for Collie--I'd do for Collie--as you did for my mother! Can't +you understand? I'm your son. I've some of you in me. And I've +found out what it is. Do you and Collie want to take me at my +word?'<br> +<br> +"I think it took dad longer to read something strange and +convincing in Jack than it took me. Anyway, dad got the stunning +consciousness that Jack <i>knew</i> by some divine or intuitive +power that his reformation was inevitable, if I loved him. Never +have I had such a distressing and terrible moment as that +revelation brought to me! I felt the truth. I could save Jack +Belllounds. No woman is ever fooled at such critical moments of +life. Ben Wade once said that I could have reformed Jack were it +possible to love him. Now the truth of that came home to me, and +somehow it was overwhelming.<br> +<br> +"Dad received this truth--and it was beyond me to realize what it +meant to him. He must have seen all his earlier hopes fulfilled, +his pride vindicated, his shame forgotten, his love rewarded. Yet +he must have seen all that, as would a man leaning with one foot +over a bottomless abyss. He looked transfigured, yet conscious of +terrible peril. His great heart seemed to leap to meet this last +opportunity, with all forgiveness, with all gratitude; but his will +yielded with a final and irrevocable resolve. A resolve dark and +sinister!<br> +<br> +"He raised his huge fists higher and higher, and all his body +lifted and strained, towering and trembling, while his face was +that of a righteous and angry god.<br> +<br> +"'My son, I take your word!' he rolled out, his voice filling the +room and reverberating through the house. 'I give you Collie!... +She will be yours!... But, by the love I bore your mother--I +swear--if you ever steal again--I'll kill you!'<br> +<br> +"I can't say any more--<br> +<br> +<blockquote>"COLUMBINE."</blockquote> +</blockquote> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV</h2> +<br> +<p>Spring came early that year at White Slides Ranch. The snow +melted off the valleys, and the wild flowers peeped from the +greening grass while yet the mountain domes were white. The long +stone slides were glistening wet, and the brooks ran full-banked, +noisy and turbulent and roily.</p> +<p>Soft and fresh of color the gray old sage slopes came out from +under their winter mantle; the bleached tufts of grass waved in the +wind and showed tiny blades of green at the roots; the aspens and +oaks, and the vines on fences and cliffs, and the round-clumped, +brook-bordering willows took on a hue of spring.</p> +<p>The mustangs and colts in the pastures snorted and ran and +kicked and cavorted; and on the hillsides the cows began to climb +higher, searching for the tender greens, bawling for the new-born +calves. Eagles shrieked the release of the snow-bound peaks, and +the elks bugled their piercing calls. The grouse-cocks spread their +gorgeous brown plumage in parade before their twittering mates, and +the jays screeched in the woods, and the sage-hens sailed along the +bosom of the gray slopes.</p> +<p>Black bears, and browns, and grizzlies came out of their +winter's sleep, and left huge, muddy tracks on the trails; the +timber wolves at dusk mourned their hungry calls for life, for +meat, for the wildness that was passing; the coyotes yelped at +sunset, joyous and sharp and impudent.</p> +<p>But winter yielded reluctantly its hold on the mountains. The +black, scudding clouds, and the squalls of rain and sleet and snow, +whitening and melting and vanishing, and the cold, clear nights, +with crackling frost, all retarded the work of the warming sun. The +day came, however, when the greens held their own with the grays; +and this was the assurance of nature that spring could not be +denied, and that summer would follow.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>Bent Wade was hiding in the willows along the trail that +followed one of the brooks. Of late, on several mornings, he had +skulked like an Indian under cover, watching for some one. On this +morning, when Columbine Belllounds came riding along, he stepped +out into the trail in front of her.</p> +<p>"Oh, Ben! you startled me!" she exclaimed, as she held hard on +the frightened horse.</p> +<p>"Good mornin', Collie," replied Wade. "I'm sorry to scare you, +but I'm particular anxious to see you. An' considerin' how you +avoid me these days, I had to waylay you in regular road-agent +style."</p> +<p>Wade gazed up searchingly at her. It had been some time since he +had been given the privilege and pleasure of seeing her close at +hand. He needed only one look at her to confirm his fears. The +pale, sweet, resolute face told him much.</p> +<p>"Well, now you've waylaid me, what do you want?" she queried, +deliberately.</p> +<p>"I'm goin' to take you to see Wils Moore," replied Wade, +watching her closely.</p> +<p>"No!" she cried, with the red staining her temples.</p> +<p>"Collie, see here. Did I ever oppose anythin' you wanted to +do?"</p> +<p>"Not--yet," she said.</p> +<p>"I reckon you expect me to?"</p> +<p>She did not answer that. Her eyes drooped, and she nervously +twisted the bridle reins.</p> +<p>"Do you doubt my--my good intentions toward you--my love for +you?" he asked, in gentle and husky voice.</p> +<p>"Oh, Ben! No! No! It's that I'm afraid of your love for me! I +can't bear--what I have to bear--if I see you, if I listen to +you."</p> +<p>"Then you've weakened? You're no proud, high-strung, +thoroughbred girl any more? You're showin' yellow?"</p> +<p>"Ben Wade, I deny that," she answered, spiritedly, with an +uplift of her head. "It's not weakness, but strength I've +found."</p> +<p>"Ahuh! Well, I reckon I understand. Collie, listen. Wils let me +read your last letter to him."</p> +<p>"I expected that. I think I told him to. Anyway, I wanted you to +know--what--what ailed me."</p> +<p>"Lass, it was a fine, brave letter--written by a girl facin' an +upheaval of conscience an' soul. But in your own trouble you forget +the effect that letter might have on Wils Moore."</p> +<p>"Ben!... I--I've lain awake at night--Oh, was he hurt?"</p> +<p>"Collie, I reckon if you don't see Wils he'll kill himself or +kill Buster Jack," replied Wade, gravely.</p> +<p>"I'll see--him!" she faltered. "But oh, Ben--you don't mean that +Wilson would be so base--so cowardly?"</p> +<p>"Collie, you're a child. You don't realize the depths to which a +man can sink. Wils has had a long, hard pull this winter. My +nursin' an' your letters have saved his life. He's well, now, but +that long, dark spell of mind left its shadow on him. He's +morbid."</p> +<p>"What does he--want to see me--for?" asked Columbine, +tremulously. There were tears in her eyes. "It'll only cause more +pain--make matters worse."</p> +<p>"Reckon I don't agree with you. Wils just wants an' needs to +<i>see</i> you. Why, he appreciated your position. I've heard him +cry like a woman over it an' our helplessness. What ails him is +lovesickness, the awful feelin' which comes to a man who believes +he has lost his sweetheart's love."</p> +<p>"Poor boy! So he imagines I don't love him any more? Good +Heavens! How stupid men are!... I'll see him, Ben. Take me to +him."</p> +<p>For answer, Wade grasped the bridle of her horse and, turning +him, took a course leading away behind the hill that lay between +them and the ranch-house. The trail was narrow and brushy, making +it necessary for him to walk ahead of the horse. So the hunter did +not speak to her or look at her for some time. He plodded on with +his eyes downcast. Something tugged at Wade's mind, an old, +familiar, beckoning thing, vague and mysterious and black, a +presage of catastrophe. But it was only an opening wedge into his +mind. It had not entered. Gravity and unhappiness occupied him. His +senses, nevertheless, were alert. He heard the low roar of the +flooded brook, the whir of rising grouse ahead, the hoofs of deer +on stones, the song of spring birds. He had an eye also for the wan +wild flowers in the shaded corners. Presently he led the horse out +of the willows into the open and up a low-swelling, long slope of +fragrant sage. Here he dropped back to Columbine's side and put his +hand upon the pommel of her saddle. It was not long until her own +hand softly fell upon his and clasped it. Wade thrilled under the +warm touch. How well he knew her heart! When she ceased to love any +one to whom she had given her love then she would have ceased to +breathe.</p> +<p>"Lass, this isn't the first mornin' I've waited for you," he +said, presently. "An' when I had to go back to Wils without +you--well, it was hard."</p> +<p>"Then he wants to see me--so badly?" she asked.</p> +<p>"Reckon you've not thought much about him or me lately," said +Wade.</p> +<p>"No. I've tried to put you out of my mind. I've had so much to +think of--why, even the sleepless nights have flown!"</p> +<p>"Are you goin' to confide in me--as you used to?"</p> +<p>"Ben, there's nothing to confide. I'm just where I left off in +that letter to Wilson. And the more I think the more muddled I +get."</p> +<p>Wade greeted this reply with a long silence. It was enough to +feel her hand upon his and to have the glad comfort and charm of +her presence once more. He seemed to have grown older lately. The +fragrant breath of the sage slopes came to him as something +precious he must feel and love more. A haunting transience mocked +him from these rolling gray hills. Old White Slides loomed gray and +dark up into the blue, grim and stern reminder of age and of +fleeting time. There was a cloud on Wade's horizon.</p> +<p>"Wils is waitin' down there," said Wade, pointing to a grove of +aspens below. "Reckon it's pretty close to the house, an' a trail +runs along there. But Wils can't ride very well yet, an' this +appeared to be the best place."</p> +<p>"Ben, I don't care if dad or Jack know I've met Wilson. I'll +tell them," said Columbine.</p> +<p>"Ahuh! Well, if I were you I wouldn't," he replied.</p> +<p>They went down the slope and entered the grove. It was an open, +pretty spot, with grass and wild flowers, and old, bleached logs, +half sunny and half shady under the new-born, fluttering aspen +leaves. Wade saw Moore sitting on his horse. And it struck the +hunter significantly that the cowboy should be mounted when an hour +back he had left him sitting disconsolately on a log. Moore wanted +Columbine to see him first, after all these months of fear and +dread, mounted upon his horse. Wade heard Columbine's glad little +cry, but he did not turn to look at her then. But when they reached +the spot where Moore stood Wade could not resist the desire to see +the meeting between the lovers.</p> +<p>Columbine, being a woman, and therefore capable of hiding +agitation, except in moments of stress, met that trying situation +with more apparent composure than the cowboy. Moore's long, +piercing gaze took the rose out of Columbine's cheeks.</p> +<p>"Oh, Wilson! I'm so happy to see you on your horse again!" she +exclaimed. "It's too good to be true. I've prayed for that more +than anything else. Can you get up into your saddle like you used +to? Can you ride well again?... Let me see your foot."</p> +<p>Moore held out a bulky foot. He wore a shoe, and it was +slashed.</p> +<p>"I can't wear a boot," he explained.</p> +<p>"Oh, I see!" exclaimed Columbine, slowly, with her glad smile +fading. "You can't put that--that foot in a stirrup, can you?"</p> +<p>"No."</p> +<p>"But--it--it will--you'll be able to wear a boot soon," she +implored.</p> +<p>"Never again, Collie," he said, sadly.</p> +<p>And then Wade perceived that, like a flash, the old spirit +leaped up in Columbine. It was all he wanted to see.</p> +<p>"Now, folks," he said, "I reckon two's company an' three's a +crowd. I'll go off a little ways an' keep watch."</p> +<p>"Ben, you stay here," replied Columbine, hurriedly.</p> +<p>"Why, Collie? Are you afraid--or ashamed to be with me alone?" +asked Moore, bitterly.</p> +<p>Columbine's eyes flashed. It was seldom they lost their sweet +tranquillity. But now they had depth and fire.</p> +<p>"No, Wilson, I'm neither afraid nor ashamed to be with you +alone," she declared. "But I can be as natural--as much myself with +Ben here as I could be alone. Why can't you be? If dad and Jack +heard of our meeting the fact of Ben's presence might make it look +different to them. And why should I heap trouble upon my +shoulders?"</p> +<p>"I beg pardon, Collie," said the cowboy. "I've just been afraid +of--of things."</p> +<p>"My horse is restless," returned Columbine. "Let's get off and +talk."</p> +<p>So they dismounted. It warmed Wade's gloomy heart to see the +woman-look in Columbine's eyes as she watched the cowboy get off +and walk. For a crippled man he did very well. But that moment was +fraught with meaning for Wade. These unfortunate lovers, brave and +fine in their suffering, did not realize the peril they invited by +proximity. But Wade knew. He pitied them, he thrilled for them, he +lived their torture with them.</p> +<p>"Tell me--everything," said Columbine, impulsively.</p> +<p>Moore, with dragging step, approached an aspen log that lay off +the ground, propped by the stump, and here he leaned for support. +Columbine laid her gloves on the log.</p> +<p>"There's nothing to tell that you don't know," replied Moore. "I +wrote you all there was to write, except"--here he dropped his +head--"except that the last three weeks have been hell."</p> +<p>"They've not been exactly heaven for me," replied Columbine, +with a little laugh that gave Wade a twinge.</p> +<p>Then the lovers began to talk about spring coming, about horses +and cattle, and feed, about commonplace ranch matters not +interesting to them, but which seemed to make conversation and hide +their true thoughts. Wade listened, and it seemed to him that he +could read their hearts.</p> +<p>"Lass, an' you, Wils--you're wastin' time an' gettin' nowhere," +interposed Wade. "Now let me go, so's you'll be alone."</p> +<p>"You stay right there," ordered Moore.</p> +<p>"Why, Ben, I'm ashamed to say that I actually forgot you were +here," said Columbine.</p> +<p>"Then I'll remind you," rejoined the hunter. "Collie, tell us +about Old Bill an' Jack."</p> +<p>"Tell you? What?"</p> +<p>"Well, I've seen changes in both. So has Wils, though Wils +hasn't seen as much as he's heard from Lem an' Montana an' the +Andrews boys."</p> +<p>"Oh!..." Columbine choked a little over her exclamation of +understanding. "Dad has gotten a new lease on life, I guess. He's +happy, like a boy sometimes, an' good as gold.... It's all because +of the change in Jack. That is remarkable. I've not been able to +believe my own eyes. Since that night Jack came home and had +the--the understanding with dad he has been another person. He has +left me alone. He treats me with deference, but not a familiar word +or look. He's kind. He offers the little civilities that occur, you +know. But he never intrudes upon me. Not one word of the past! It +is as if he would earn my respect, and have that or nothing.... +Then he works as he never worked before--on dad's books, in the +shop, out on the range. He seems obsessed with some thought all the +time. He talks little. All the old petulance, obstinacy, +selfishness, and especially his sudden, queer impulses, and +bull-headed tenacity--all gone! He has suffered physical distress, +because he never was used to hard work. And more, he's suffered +terribly for the want of liquor. I've heard him say to dad: 'It's +hell--this burning thirst. I never knew I had it. I'll stand it, if +it kills me.... But wouldn't it be easier on me to take a drink now +and then, at these bad times?'... And dad said: 'No, son. Break off +for keeps! This taperin' off is no good way to stop drinkin'. Stand +the burnin'. An' when it's gone you'll be all the gladder an' I'll +be all the prouder.'... I have not forgotten all Jack's former +failings, but I am forgetting them, little by little. For dad's +sake I'm overjoyed. For Jack's I am glad. I'm convinced now that +he's had his lesson--that he's sowed his wild oats--that he has +become a man."</p> +<p>Moore listened eagerly, and when she had concluded he +thoughtfully bent his head and began to cut little chips out of the +log with his knife.</p> +<p>"Collie, I've heard a good deal of the change in Jack," he said, +earnestly. "Honest Injun, I'm glad--glad for his father's sake, for +his own, and for yours. The boys think Jack's locoed. But his +reformation is not strange to me. If I were no good--just like he +was--well, I could change as greatly for--for you."</p> +<p>Columbine hastily averted her face. Wade's keen eyes, apparently +hidden under his old hat, saw how wet her lashes were, how her lips +trembled.</p> +<p>"Wilson, you think then--you believe Jack will last--will stick +to his new ways?" she queried, hurriedly.</p> +<p>"Yes, I do," he replied, nodding.</p> +<p>"How good of you! Oh! Wilson, it's like you to be +noble--splendid. When you might have--when it'd have been so +natural for you to doubt--to scorn him!"</p> +<p>"Collie, I'm honest about that. And now you be just as honest. +Do you think Jack will stand to his colors? Never drink--never +gamble--never fly off the handle again?"</p> +<p>"Yes, I honestly believe that--providing he gets--providing +I--"</p> +<p>Her voice trailed off faintly.</p> +<p>Moore wheeled to address the hunter.</p> +<p>"Pard, what do you think? Tell me now. Tell us. It will help me, +and Collie, too. I've asked you before, but you wouldn't--Tell us +now, do you believe Buster Jack will live up to his new +ideals?"</p> +<p>Wade had long parried that question, because the time to answer +it had not come till this moment.</p> +<p>"No," he replied, gently.</p> +<p>Columbine uttered a little cry.</p> +<p>"Why not?" demanded Moore, his face darkening.</p> +<p>"Reckon there are reasons that you young folks wouldn't think +of, an' couldn't know."</p> +<p>"Wade, it's not like you to be hopeless for any man," said +Moore.</p> +<p>"Yes, I reckon it is, sometimes," replied Wade, wagging his head +solemnly. "Young folks, I'm grantin' all you say as to Jack's +reformation, except that it's permanent. I'm grantin' he's +sincere--that he's not playin' a part--that his vicious instincts +are smothered under a noble impulse to be what he ought to be. It's +no trick. Buster Jack has all but done the impossible."</p> +<p>"Then why isn't his sincerity and good work to be permanent?" +asked Moore, impatiently, and his gesture was violent.</p> +<p>"Wils, his change is not moral force. It's passion."</p> +<p>The cowboy paled. Columbine stood silent, with intent eyes upon +the hunter. Neither of them seemed to understand him well enough to +make reply.</p> +<p>"Love can work marvels in any man," went on Wade. "But love +can't change the fiber of a man's heart. A man is born so an' so. +He loves an' hates an' feels accordin' to the nature. It'd be +accordin' to nature for Jack Belllounds to stay reformed if his +love for Collie lasted. An' that's the point. It can't last. Not in +a man of his stripe."</p> +<p>"Why not?" demanded Moore.</p> +<p>"Because Jack's love will never be returned--satisfied. It takes +a man of different caliber to love a woman who'll never love him. +Jack's obsessed by passion now. He'd perform miracles. But that's +not possible. The miracle necessary here would be for him to change +his moral force, his blood, the habits of his mind. That's beyond +his power."</p> +<p>Columbine flung out an appealing hand.</p> +<p>"Ben, I could pretend to love him--I might <i>make</i> myself +love him, if that would give him the power."</p> +<p>"Lass, don't delude yourself. You can't do that," replied +Wade.</p> +<p>"How do you know what I can do?" she queried, struggling with +her helplessness.</p> +<p>"Why, child, I know you better than you know yourself."</p> +<p>"Wilson, he's right, he's right!" she cried. "That's why it's so +terrible for me now. He knows my very heart. He reads my soul.... I +can <i>never</i> love Jack Belllounds. Nor <i>ever</i> pretend +love!"</p> +<p>"Collie, if Ben knows you so well, you ought to listen to him, +as you used to," said Moore, touching her hand with infinite +sympathy.</p> +<p>Wade watched them. His pity and affection did not obstruct the +ruthless expression of his opinions or the direction of his +intentions.</p> +<p>"Lass, an' you, Wils, listen," he said, with all his gentleness. +"It's bad enough without you makin' it worse. Don't blind +yourselves. That's the hell with so many people in trouble. It's +hard to see clear when you're sufferin' and fightin'. But <i>I</i> +see clear.... Now with just a word I could fetch this new Jack +Belllounds back to his Buster Jack tricks!"</p> +<p>"Oh, Ben! No! No! No!" cried Columbine, in a distress that +showed how his force dominated her.</p> +<p>Moore's face turned as white as ashes.</p> +<p>Wade divined then that Moore was aware of what he himself knew +about Jack Belllounds. And to his love for Moore was added an +infinite respect.</p> +<p>"I won't unless Collie forces me to," he said, +significantly.</p> +<p>This was the critical moment, and suddenly Wade answered to it +without restraint. He leaped up, startling Columbine.</p> +<p>"Wils, you call me pard, don't you? I reckon you never knew me. +Why, the game's `most played out, an' I haven't showed my hand!... +I'd see Jack Belllounds in hell before I'd let him have Collie. An' +if she carried out her strange an' lofty idea of duty--an' married +him right this afternoon--I could an' I would part them before +night!"</p> +<p>He ended that speech in a voice neither had ever heard him use +before. And the look of him must have been in harmony with it. +Columbine, wide-eyed and gasping, seemed struck to the heart. +Moore's white face showed awe and fear and irresponsible primitive +joy. Wade turned away from them, the better to control the passion +that had mastered him. And it did not subside in an instant. He +paced to and fro, his head bowed. Presently, when he faced around, +it was to see what he had expected to see.</p> +<p>Columbine was clasped in Moore's arms.</p> +<p>"Collie, you didn't--you haven't--promised to marry +him--again!"</p> +<p>"No, oh--no! I haven't! I was only--only trying to--to make up +my mind. Wilson, don't look at me so terribly!"</p> +<p>"You'll not agree again? You'll not set another day?" demanded +Moore, passionately. He strained her to him, yet held her so he +could see her face, thus dominating her with both strength and +will. His face was corded now, and darkly flushed. His jaw +quivered. "You'll never marry Jack Belllounds! You'll not let +sudden impulse--sudden persuasion or force change you? Promise! +Swear you'll never marry him. Swear!"</p> +<p>"Oh, Wilson, I promise--I swear!" she cried. "Never! I'm yours. +It would be a sin. I've been mad to--to blind myself."</p> +<p>"You love me! You love me!" he cried, in a sudden transport.</p> +<p>"Oh, yes, yes! I do."</p> +<p>"Say it then! Say it--so I'll never doubt--never suffer +again!"</p> +<p>"I love you, Wilson! I--I love you--unutterably," the whispered. +"I love you--so--I'm broken-hearted now. I'll never live without +you. I'll die--I love you so!"</p> +<p>"You--you flower--you angel!" he whispered in return. "You +woman! You precious creature! I've been crazed at loss of you!"</p> +<p>Wade paced out of earshot, and this time he remained away for a +considerable time. He lived again moments of his own past, +unforgetable and sad. When at length he returned toward the young +couple they were sitting apart, composed once more, talking +earnestly. As he neared them Columbine rose to greet him with +wonderful eyes, in which reproach blended with affection.</p> +<p>"Ben, so this is what you've done!" she exclaimed.</p> +<p>"Lass, I'm only a humble instrument, an' I believe God guides me +right," replied the hunter.</p> +<p>"I love you more, it seems, for what you make me suffer," she +said, and she kissed him with a serious sweetness. "I'm only a leaf +in the storm. But--let what will come.... Take me home."</p> +<p>They said good-by to Wilson, who sat with head bowed upon his +hands. His voice trembled as he answered them. Wade found the trail +while Columbine mounted. As they went slowly down the gentle slope, +stepping over the numerous logs fallen across the way, Wade caught +out of the tail of his eye a moving object along the outer edge of +the aspen grove above them. It was the figure of a man, skulking +behind the trees. He disappeared. Wade casually remarked to +Columbine that now she could spur the pony and hurry on home. But +Columbine refused. When they got a little farther on, out of sight +of Moore and somewhat around to the left, Wade espied the man +again. He carried a rifle. Wade grew somewhat perturbed.</p> +<p>"Collie, you run on home," he said, sharply.</p> +<p>"Why? You've complained of not seeing me. Now that I want to be +with you ... Ben, you see some one!"</p> +<p>Columbine's keen faculties evidently sensed the change in Wade, +and the direction of his uneasy glance convinced her.</p> +<p>"Oh, there's a man!... Ben, it is--yes, it's Jack," she +exclaimed, excitedly.</p> +<p>"Reckon you'd have it better if you say Buster Jack," replied +Wade, with his tragic smile.</p> +<p>"Ah!" whispered Columbine, as she gazed up at the aspen slope, +with eyes lighting to battle.</p> +<p>"Run home, Collie, an' leave him to me," said Wade.</p> +<p>"Ben, you mean he--he saw us up there in the grove? Saw me in +Wilson's arms--saw me kissing him?"</p> +<p>"Sure as you're born, Collie. He watched us. He saw all your +love-makin'. I can tell that by the way he walks. It's Buster Jack +again! Alas for the new an' noble Jack! I told you, Collie. Now you +run on an' leave him to me."</p> +<p>Wade became aware that she turned at his last words and regarded +him attentively. But his gaze was riveted on the striding form of +Belllounds.</p> +<p>"Leave him to you? For what reason, my friend?" she asked.</p> +<p>"Buster Jack's on the rampage. Can't you see that? He'll insult +you. He'll--"</p> +<p>"I will not go," interrupted Columbine, and, halting her pony, +she deliberately dismounted.</p> +<p>Wade grew concerned with the appearance of young Belllounds, and +it was with a melancholy reminder of the infallibility of his +presentiments. As he and Columbine halted in the trail, +Belllounds's hurried stride lengthened until he almost ran. He +carried the rifle forward in a most significant manner. Black as a +thunder-cloud was his face. Alas for the dignity and pain and +resolve that had only recently showed there!</p> +<p>Belllounds reached them. He was frothing at the mouth. He cocked +the rifle and thrust it toward Wade, holding low down.</p> +<p>"You--meddling sneak! If you open your trap I'll bore you!" he +shouted, almost incoherently.</p> +<p>Wade knew when danger of life loomed imminent. He fixed his +glance upon the glaring eyes of Belllounds.</p> +<p>"Jack, seein' I'm not packin' a gun, it'd look sorta natural, +along with your other tricks, if you bored me."</p> +<p>His gentle voice, his cool mien, his satire, were as giant's +arms to drag Belllounds back from murder. The rifle was raised, the +hammer reset, the butt lowered to the ground, while Belllounds, +snarling and choking, fought for speech.</p> +<p>"I'll get even--with you," he said, huskily. "I'm on to your +game now. I'll fix you later. But--I'll do you harm now if you mix +in with this!"</p> +<p>Then he wheeled to Columbine, and as if he had just recognized +her, a change that was pitiful and shocking convulsed his face. He +leaned toward her, pointing with shaking, accusing hand.</p> +<p>"I saw you--up there. I watched--you," he panted.</p> +<p>Columbine faced him, white and mute.</p> +<p>"It was you--wasn't it?" he yelled.</p> +<p>"Yes, of course it was."</p> +<p>She might have struck him, for the way he flinched.</p> +<p>"What was that--a trick--a game--a play all fixed up for my +benefit?"</p> +<p>"I don't understand you," she replied.</p> +<p>"Bah! You--you white-faced cat!... I saw you! Saw you in Moore's +arms! Saw him hug you--kiss you!... Then--I saw--you put up your +arms--round his neck--kiss him--kiss him--kiss him!... I saw all +that--didn't I?"</p> +<p>"You must have, since you say so," she returned, with perfect +composure.</p> +<p>"But <i>did</i> you?" he almost shrieked, the blood cording and +bulging red, as if about to burst the veins of temples and +neck.</p> +<p>"Yes, I did," she flashed. There was primitive woman uppermost +in her now, and a spirit no man might provoke with impunity.</p> +<p>"<i>You love him?</i>" he asked, very low, incredulously, with +almost insane eagerness for denial in his query.</p> +<p>Then Wade saw the glory of her--saw her mother again in that +proud, fierce uplift of face, that flamed red and then blazed +white--saw hate and passion and love in all their primal +nakedness.</p> +<p>"Love him! Love Wilson Moore? Yes, you fool! I love him! Yes! +<i>Yes!</i> YES!"</p> +<p>That voice would have pierced the heart of a wooden image, so +Wade thought, as all his strung nerves quivered and thrilled.</p> +<p>Belllounds uttered a low cry of realization, and all his +instinctive energy seemed on the verge of collapse. He grew limp, +he sagged, he tottered. His sensorial perceptions seemed +momentarily blunted.</p> +<p>Wade divined the tragedy, and a pang of great compassion +overcame him. Whatever Jack Belllounds was in character, he had +inherited his father's power to love, and he was human. Wade felt +the death in that stricken soul, and it was the last flash of pity +he ever had for Jack Belllounds.</p> +<p>"You--you--" muttered Belllounds, raising a hand that gathered +speed and strength in the action. The moment of a great blow had +passed, like a storm-blast through a leafless tree. Now the +thousand devils of his nature leaped into ascendancy. "You!--" He +could not articulate. Dark and terrible became his energy. It was +like a resistless current forced through leaping thought and +leaping muscle.</p> +<p>He struck her on the mouth, a cruel blow that would have felled +her but for Wade: and then he lunged away, bowed and trembling, yet +with fierce, instinctive motion, as if driven to run with the +spirit of his rage.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV</h2> +<br> +<p>Wade noticed that after her trying experience with him and +Wilson and Belllounds Columbine did not ride frequently.</p> +<p>He managed to get a word or two with her whenever he went to the +ranch-house, and he needed only look at her to read her sensitive +mind. All was well with Columbine, despite her trouble. She +remained upheld in spirit, while yet she seemed to brood over an +unsolvable problem. She had said, "But--let what will come!"--and +she was waiting.</p> +<p>Wade hunted for more than lions and wolves these days. Like an +Indian scout who scented peril or heard an unknown step upon his +trail, Wade rode the hills, and spent long hours hidden on the +lonely slopes, watching with somber, keen eyes. They were eyes that +knew what they were looking for. They had marked the strange sight +of the son of Bill Belllounds, gliding along that trail where Moore +had met Columbine, sneaking and stooping, at last with many a +covert glance about, to kneel in the trail and compare the horse +tracks there with horseshoes he took from his pocket. That alone +made Bent Wade eternally vigilant. He kept his counsel. He worked +more swiftly, so that he might have leisure for his peculiar +seeking. He spent an hour each night with the cowboys, listening to +their recounting of the day and to their homely and shrewd +opinions. He haunted the vicinity of the ranch-house at night, +watching and listening for that moment which was to aid him in the +crisis that was impending. Many a time he had been near when +Columbine passed from the living-room to her corner of the house. +He had heard her sigh and could almost have touched her.</p> +<p>Buster Jack had suffered a regurgitation of the old driving and +insatiate temper, and there was gloom in the house of Belllounds. +Trouble clouded the old man's eyes.</p> +<p>May came with the spring round-up. Wade was called to use a rope +and brand calves under the order of Jack Belllounds, foreman of +White Slides. That round-up showed a loss of one hundred head of +stock, some branded steers, and yearlings, and many calves, in all +a mixed herd. Belllounds received the amazing news with a roar. He +had been ready for something to roar at. The cowboys gave as +reasons winter-kill, and lions, and perhaps some head stolen since +the thaw. Wade emphatically denied this. Very few cattle had fallen +prey to the big cats, and none, so far as he could find, had been +frozen or caught in drifts. It was the young foreman who stunned +them all. "Rustled," he said, darkly. "There's too many loafers and +homesteaders in these hills!" And he stalked out to leave his +hearers food for reflection.</p> +<p>Jack Belllounds drank, but no one saw him drunk, and no one +could tell where he got the liquor. He rode hard and fast; he drove +the cowboys one way while he went another; he had grown shifty, +cunning, more intolerant than ever. Some nights he rode to +Kremmling, or said he had been there, when next day the cowboys +found another spent and broken horse to turn out. On other nights +he coaxed and bullied them into playing poker. They won more of his +money than they cared to count.</p> +<p>Columbine confided to Wade, with mournful whisper, that Jack +paid no attention to her whatever, and that the old rancher +attributed this coldness, and Jack's backsliding, to her +irresponsiveness and her tardiness in setting the wedding-day that +must be set. To this Wade had whispered in reply, "Don't ever +forget what I said to you an' Wils that day!"</p> +<p>So Wade upheld Columbine with his subtle dominance, and watched +over her, as it were, from afar. No longer was he welcome in the +big living-room. Belllounds reacted to his son's influence.</p> +<p>Twice in the early mornings Wade had surprised Jack Belllounds +in the blacksmith shop. The meetings were accidental, yet Wade ever +remembered how coincidence beckoned him thither and how +circumstance magnified strange reflections. There was no reason why +Jack should not be tinkering in the blacksmith shop early of a +morning. But Wade followed an uncanny guidance. Like his hound Fox, +he never split on trails. When opportunity afforded he went into +the shop and looked it over with eyes as keen as the nose of his +dog. And in the dust of the floor he had discovered little circles +with dots in the middle, all uniform in size. Sight of them did not +shock him until they recalled vividly the little circles with dots +in the earthen floor of Wilson Moore's cabin. Little marks made by +the end of Moore's crutch! Wade grinned then like a wolf showing +his fangs. And the vitals of a wolf could no more strongly have +felt the instinct to rend.</p> +<p>For Wade, the cloud on his horizon spread and darkened, gathered +sinister shape of storm, harboring lightning and havoc. It was the +cloud in his mind, the foreshadowing of his soul, the prophetic +sense of like to like. Where he wandered there the blight fell!</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>Significant was the fact that Belllounds hired new men. Bludsoe +had quit. Montana Jim grew surly these days and packed a gun. Lem +Billings had threatened to leave. New and strange hands for Jack +Belllounds to direct had a tendency to release a strain and tide +things over.</p> +<p>Every time the old rancher saw Wade he rolled his eyes and +wagged his head, as if combating superstition with an intelligent +sense of justice. Wade knew what troubled Belllounds, and it +strengthened the gloomy mood that, like a poison lichen, seemed +finding root.</p> +<p>Every day Wade visited his friend Wilson Moore, and most of +their conversation centered round that which had become a ruling +passion for both. But the time came when Wade deviated from his +gentleness of speech and leisure of action.</p> +<p>"Bent, you're not like you were," said Moore, once, in surprise +at the discovery. "You're losing hope and confidence."</p> +<p>"No. I've only somethin' on my mind."</p> +<p>"What?"</p> +<p>"I reckon I'm not goin' to tell you now."</p> +<p>"You've got <i>hell</i> on your mind!" flashed the cowboy, in +grim inspiration.</p> +<p>Wade ignored the insinuation and turned the conversation to +another subject.</p> +<p>"Wils, you're buyin' stock right along?"</p> +<p>"Sure am. I saved some money, you know. And what's the use to +hoard it? I'll buy cheap. In five years I'll have five hundred, +maybe a thousand head. Wade, my old dad will be pleased to find out +I've made the start I have."</p> +<p>"Well, it's a fine start, I'll allow. Have you picked up any +unbranded stock?"</p> +<p>"Sure I have. Say, pard, are you worrying about this two-bit +rustler work that's been going on?"</p> +<p>"Wils, it ain't two bits any more. I reckon it's gettin' into +the four-bit class."</p> +<p>"I've been careful to have my business transactions all in +writing," said Moore. "It makes these fellows sore, because some of +them can't write. And they're not used to it. But I'm starting this +game in my own way."</p> +<p>"Have you sold any stock?"</p> +<p>"Not yet. But the Andrews boys are driving some thirty-odd head +to Kremmling for me to be sold."</p> +<p>"Ahuh! Well, I'll be goin'," Wade replied, and it was +significant of his state of mind that he left his young friend +sorely puzzled. Not that Wade did not see Moore's anxiety! But the +drift of events at White Slides had passed beyond the stage where +sympathetic and inspiring hope might serve Wade's purpose. Besides, +his mood was gradually changing as these events, like many fibers +of a web, gradually closed in toward a culminating knot.</p> +<p>That night Wade lounged with the cowboys and new hands in front +of the little storehouse where Belllounds kept supplies for all. He +had lounged there before in the expectation of seeing the rancher's +son. And this time anticipation was verified. Jack Belllounds +swaggered over from the ranch-house. He met civility and obedience +now where formerly he had earned but ridicule and opposition. So +long as he worked hard himself the cowboys endured. The subtle +change in him seemed of sterner stuff. The talk, as usual, centered +round the stock subjects and the banter and gossip of ranch-hands. +Wade selected an interval when there was a lull in the +conversation, and with eyes that burned under the shadow of his +broad-brimmed sombrero he watched the son of Belllounds.</p> +<p>"Say, boys, Wils Moore has begun sellin' cattle," remarked Wade, +casually. "The Andrews brothers are drivin' for him."</p> +<p>"Wal, so Wils's spread-eaglin' into a real rancher!" ejaculated +Lem Billings. "Mighty glad to hear it. Thet boy shore will git +rich."</p> +<p>Wade's remark incited no further expressions of interest. But it +was Jack Belllounds's secret mind that Wade wished to pierce. He +saw the leaping of a thought that was neither interest nor +indifference nor contempt, but a creative thing which lent a +fleeting flash to the face, a slight shock to the body. Then Jack +Belllounds bent his head, lounged there for a little while longer, +lost in absorption, and presently he strolled away.</p> +<p>Whatever that mounting thought of Jack Belllounds's was it +brought instant decision to Wade. He went to the ranch-house and +knocked upon the living-room door. There was a light within, +sending rays out through the windows into the semi-darkness. +Columbine opened the door and admitted Wade. A bright fire crackled +in the hearth. Wade flashed a reassuring look at Columbine.</p> +<p>"Evenin', Miss Collie. Is your dad in?"</p> +<p>"Oh, it's you, Ben!" she replied, after her start. "Yes, dad's +here."</p> +<p>The old rancher looked up from his reading. "Howdy, Wade! What +can I do fer you?"</p> +<p>"Belllounds, I've cleaned out the cats an' most of the varmints +on your range. An' my work, lately, has been all sorts, not leavin' +me any time for little jobs of my own. An' I want to quit."</p> +<p>"Wade, you've clashed with Jack!" exclaimed the rancher, jerking +erect.</p> +<p>"Nothin' of the kind. Jack an' me haven't had words a good +while. I'm not denyin' we might, an' probably would clash sooner or +later. But that's not my reason for quittin'."</p> +<p>Manifestly this put an entirely different complexion upon the +matter. Belllounds appeared immensely relieved.</p> +<p>"Wal, all right. I'll pay you at the end of the month. Let's +see, thet's not long now. You can lay off to-morrow."</p> +<p>Wade thanked him and waited for further remarks. Columbine had +fixed big, questioning eyes upon Wade, which he found hard to +endure. Again he tried to flash her a message of reassurance. But +Columbine did not lose her look of blank wonder and gravity.</p> +<p>"Ben! Oh, you're not going to leave White Slides?" she +asked.</p> +<p>"Reckon I'll hang around yet awhile," he replied.</p> +<p>Belllounds was wagging his head regretfully and ponderingly.</p> +<p>"Wal, I remember the day when no man quit me. Wal, wal!--times +change. I'm an old man now. Mebbe, mebbe I'm testy. An' then thar's +thet boy!"</p> +<p>With a shrug of his broad shoulders he dismissed what seemed an +encroachment of pessimistic thought.</p> +<p>"Wade, you're packin' off, then, on the trail? Always on the go, +eh?"</p> +<p>"No, I'm not hurryin' off," replied Wade.</p> +<p>"Wal, might I ask what you're figgerin' on?"</p> +<p>"Sure. I'm considerin' a cattle deal with Moore. He's a pretty +keen boy an' his father has big ranchin' interests. I've saved a +little money an' I'm no spring chicken any more. Wils has begun to +buy an' sell stock, so I reckon I'll go in with him."</p> +<p>"Ahuh!" Belllounds gave a grunt of comprehension. He frowned, +and his big eyes set seriously upon the blazing fire. He grasped +complications in this information.</p> +<p>"Wal, it's a free country," he said at length, and evidently his +personal anxieties were subjected to his sense of justice. "Owin' +to the peculiar circumstances hyar at my range, I'd prefer thet +Moore an' you began somewhar else. Thet's natural. But you've my +good will to start on an' I hope I've yours."</p> +<p>"Belllounds, you've every man's good will," replied Wade. "I +hope you won't take offense at my leavin'. You see I'm on Wils +Moore's side in--in what you called these peculiar circumstances. +He's got nobody else. An' I reckon you can look back an' remember +how you've taken sides with some poor devil an' stuck to him. Can't +you?"</p> +<p>"Wal, I reckon I can. An' I'm not thinkin' less of you fer +speakin' out like thet."</p> +<p>"All right. Now about the dogs. I turn the pack over to you, an' +it's a good one. I'd like to buy Fox."</p> +<p>"Buy nothin', man. You can have Fox, an' welcome."</p> +<p>"Much obliged," returned the hunter, as he turned to go. "Fox +will sure be help for me. Belllounds, I'm goin' to round up this +outfit that's rustlin' your cattle. They're gettin' sort of +bold."</p> +<p>"Wade, you'll do thet on your own hook?" asked the rancher, in +surprise.</p> +<p>"Sure. I like huntin' men more than other varmints. Then I've a +personal interest. You know the hint about homesteaders hereabouts +reflects some on Wils Moore."</p> +<p>"Stuff!" exploded the rancher, heartily. "Do you think any +cattleman in these hills would believe Wils Moore a rustler?"</p> +<p>"The hunch has been whispered," said Wade. "An' you know how all +ranchers say they rustled a little on the start."</p> +<p>"Aw, hell! Thet's different. Every new rancher drives in a few +unbranded calves an' keeps them. But stealin' stock--thet's +different. An' I'd as soon suspect my own son of rustlin' as Wils +Moore."</p> +<p>Belllounds spoke with a sincere and frank ardor of defense for a +young man once employed by him and known to be honest. The +significance of the comparison he used had not struck him. His was +the epitome of a successful rancher, sure in his opinions, speaking +proudly and unreflectingly of his own son, and being just to +another man.</p> +<p>Wade bowed and backed out of the door. "Sure that's what I'd +reckon you'd say, Belllounds.... I'll drop in on you if I find any +sign in the woods. Good night."</p> +<p>Columbine went with him to the end of the porch, as she had used +to go before the shadow had settled over the lives of the +Belllounds.</p> +<p>"Ben, you're up to something," she whispered, seizing him with +hands that shook.</p> +<p>"Sure. But don't you worry," he whispered back.</p> +<p>"Do they hint that Wilson is a rustler?" she asked, +intensely.</p> +<p>"Somebody did, Collie."</p> +<p>"How vile! Who? Who?" she demanded, and her face gleamed +white.</p> +<p>"Hush, lass! You're all a-tremble," he returned, warily, and he +held her hands.</p> +<p>"Ben, they're pressing me hard to set another wedding-day. Dad +is angry with me now. Jack has begun again to demand. Oh, I'm +afraid of him! He has no respect for me. He catches at me with +hands like claws. I have to jerk away.... Oh, Ben, Ben! dear +friend, what on earth shall I do?"</p> +<p>"Don't give in. Fight Jack! Tell the old man you must have time. +Watch your chance when Jack is away an' ride up the Buffalo Park +trail an' look for me."</p> +<p>Wade had to release his hands from her clasp and urge her gently +back. How pale and tragic her face gleamed!</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>Wade took his horses, his outfit, and the dog Fox, and made his +abode with Wilson Moore. The cowboy hailed Wade's coming with joy +and pestered him with endless questions.</p> +<p>From that day Wade haunted the hills above White Slides, early +and late, alone with his thoughts, his plans, more and more feeling +the suspense of happenings to come. It was on a June day when Jack +Belllounds rode to Kremmling that Wade met Columbine on the Buffalo +Park trail. She needed to see him, to find comfort and strength. +Wade far exceeded his own confidence in his effort to uphold her. +Columbine was in a strange state, not of vacillation between two +courses, but of a standstill, as if her will had become obstructed +and waited for some force to upset the hindrance. She did not +inquire as to the welfare of Wilson Moore, and Wade vouchsafed no +word of him. But she importuned the hunter to see her every day or +no more at all. And Wade answered her appeal and her need by +assuring her that he would see her, come what might. So she was to +risk more frequent rides.</p> +<p>During the second week of June Wade rode up to visit the +prospector, Lewis, and learned that which complicated the matter of +the rustlers. Lewis had been suspicious, and active on his own +account. According to the best of his evidence and judgment there +had been a gang of rough men come of late to Gore Peak, where they +presumably were prospecting. This gang was composed of strangers to +Lewis. They had ridden to his cabin, bought and borrowed of him, +and, during his absence, had stolen from him. He believed they were +in hiding, probably being guilty of some depredation in another +locality. They gave both Kremmling and Elgeria a wide berth. On the +other hand, the Smith gang from Elgeria rode to and fro, like +ranchers searching for lost horses. There were only three in this +gang, including Smith. Lewis had seen these men driving unbranded +stock. And lastly, Lewis casually imparted the information, highly +interesting to Wade, that he had seen Jack Belllounds riding +through the forest. The prospector did not in the least, however, +connect the appearance of the son of Belllounds with the other +facts so peculiarly interesting to Wade. Cowboys and hunters rode +trails across the range, and though they did so rather +infrequently, there was nothing unusual about encountering +them.</p> +<p>Wade remained all night with Lewis, and next morning rode six +miles along the divide, and then down into a valley, where at +length he found a cabin described by the prospector. It was well +hidden in the edge of the forest, where a spring gushed from under +a low cliff. But for water and horse tracks Wade would not have +found it easily. Rifle in hand, and on foot, he slipped around in +the woods, as a hunter might have, to stalk drinking deer. There +were no smoke, no noise, no horses anywhere round the cabin, and +after watching awhile Wade went forward to look at it. It was an +old ramshackle hunter's or prospector's cabin, with dirt floor, a +crumbling fireplace and chimney, and a bed platform made of boughs. +Including the door, it had three apertures, and the two smaller +ones, serving as windows, looked as if they had been intended for +port-holes as well. The inside of the cabin was large and unusually +well lighted, owing to the windows and to the open chinks between +the logs. Wade saw a deck of cards lying bent and scattered in one +corner, as if a violent hand had flung them against the wall. +Strange that Wade's memory returned a vivid picture of Jack +Belllounds in just that act of violence! The only other thing +around the place which earned scrutiny from Wade was a number of +horseshoe tracks outside, with the left front shoe track familiar +to him. He examined the clearest imprints very carefully. If they +had not been put there by Wilson Moore's white mustang, Spottie, +then they had been made by a horse with a strangely similar hoof +and shoe. Spottie had a hoof malformed, somewhat in the shape of a +triangle, and the iron shoe to fit it always had to be bent, so +that the curve was sharp and the ends closer together than those of +his other shoes.</p> +<p>Wade rode down to White Slides that day, and at the evening meal +he casually asked Moore if he had been riding Spottie of late.</p> +<p>"Sure. What other horse could I ride? Do you think I'm up to +trying one of those broncs?" asked Moore, in derision.</p> +<p>"Reckon you haven't been leavin' any tracks up Buffalo Park +way?"</p> +<p>The cowboy slammed down his knife. "Say, Wade, are you growing +dotty? Good Lord! if I'd ridden that far--if I was able to do +it--wouldn't you hear me yell?"</p> +<p>"Reckon so, come to think of it. I just saw a track like +Spottie's, made two days ago."</p> +<p>"Well, it wasn't his, you can gamble on that," returned the +cowboy.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>Wade spent four days hiding in an aspen grove, on top of one of +the highest foothills above White Slides Ranch. There he lay at +ease, like an Indian, calm and somber, watching the trails below, +waiting for what he knew was to come.</p> +<p>On the fifth morning he was at his post at sunrise. A casual +remark of one of the new cowboys the night before accounted for the +early hour of Wade's reconnoiter. The dawn was fresh and cool, with +sweet odor of sage on the air; the jays were squalling their +annoyance at this early disturber of their grove; the east was rosy +above the black range and soon glowed with gold and then changed to +fire. The sun had risen. All the mountain world of black range and +gray hill and green valley, with its shining stream, was +transformed as if by magic color. Wade sat down with his back to an +aspen-tree, his gaze down upon the ranch-house and the corrals. A +lazy column of blue smoke curled up toward the sky, to be lost +there. The burros were braying, the calves were bawling, the colts +were whistling. One of the hounds bayed full and clear.</p> +<p>The scene was pastoral and beautiful. Wade saw it clearly and +whole. Peace and plenty, a happy rancher's home, the joy of the +dawn and the birth of summer, the rewards of toil--all seemed +significant there. But Wade pondered on how pregnant with life that +scene was--nature in its simplicity and freedom and hidden cruelty, +and the existence of people, blindly hating, loving, sacrificing, +mostly serving some noble aim, and yet with baseness among them, +the lees with the wine, evil intermixed with good.</p> +<p>By and by the cowboys appeared on their spring mustangs, and in +twos and threes they rode off in different directions. But none +rode Wade's way. The sun rose higher, and there was warmth in the +air. Bees began to hum by Wade, and fluttering moths winged +uncertain flight over him.</p> +<p>At the end of another hour Jack Belllounds came out of the +house, gazed around him, and then stalked to the barn where he kept +his horses. For a little while he was not in sight; then he +reappeared, mounted on a white horse, and he rode into the pasture, +and across that to the hay-field, and along the edge of this to the +slope of the hill. Here he climbed to a small clump of aspens. This +grove was not so far from Wilson Moore's cabin; in fact, it marked +the boundary-line between the rancher's range and the acres that +Moore had acquired. Jack vanished from sight here, but not before +Wade had made sure he was dismounting.</p> +<p>"Reckon he kept to that grassy ground for a reason of his +own--and plainer to me than any tracks," soliloquized Wade, as he +strained his eyes. At length Belllounds came out of the grove, and +led his horse round to where Wade knew there was a trail leading to +and from Moore's cabin. At this point Jack mounted and rode west. +Contrary to his usual custom, which was to ride hard and fast, he +trotted the white horse as a cowboy might have done when going out +on a day's work. Wade had to change his position to watch +Belllounds, and his somber gaze followed him across the hill, down +the slope, along the willow-bordered brook, and so on to the +opposite side of the great valley, where Jack began to climb in the +direction of Buffalo Park.</p> +<p>After Belllounds had disappeared and had been gone for an hour, +Wade went down on the other side of the hill, found his horse where +he had left him, in a thicket, and, mounting, he rode around to +strike the trail upon which Belllounds had ridden. The imprint of +fresh horse tracks showed clear in the soft dust. And the left +front track had been made by a shoe crudely triangular in shape, +identical with that peculiar to Wilson Moore's horse.</p> +<p>"Ahuh!" muttered Wade, in greeting to what he had expected to +see. "Well, Buster Jack, it's a plain trail now--damn your crooked +soul!"</p> +<p>The hunter took up that trail, and he followed it into the +woods. There he hesitated. Men who left crooked trails frequently +ambushed them, and Belllounds had made no effort to conceal his +tracks. Indeed, he had chosen the soft, open ground, even after he +had left the trail to take to the grassy, wooded benches. There +were cattle here, but not as many as on the more open aspen slopes +across the valley. After deliberating a moment, Wade decided that +he must risk being caught trailing Belllounds. But he would go +slowly, trusting to eye and ear, to outwit this strangely acting +foreman of White Slides Ranch.</p> +<p>To that end he dismounted and took the trail. Wade had not +followed it far before he became convinced that Belllounds had been +looking in the thickets for cattle; and he had not climbed another +mile through the aspens and spruce before he discovered that +Belllounds was driving cattle. Thereafter Wade proceeded more +cautiously. If the long grass had not been wet he would have +encountered great difficulty in trailing Belllounds. Evidence was +clear now that he was hiding the tracks of the cattle by keeping to +the grassy levels and slopes which, after the sun had dried them, +would not leave a trace. There were stretches where even the +keen-eyed hunter had to work to find the direction taken by +Belllounds. But here and there, in other localities, there showed +faint signs of cattle and horse tracks.</p> +<p>The morning passed, with Wade slowly climbing to the edge of the +black timber. Then, in a hollow where a spring gushed forth, he saw +the tracks of a few cattle that had halted to drink, and on top of +these the tracks of a horse with a crooked left front shoe. The +rider of this horse had dismounted. There was an imprint of a +cowboy's boot, and near it little sharp circles with dots in the +center.</p> +<p>"Well, I'll be damned!" ejaculated Wade. "I call that mighty +cunnin'. Here they are--proofs as plain as writin'--that Wils Moore +rustled Old Bill's cattle!... Buster Jack, you're not such a fool +as I thought.... He's made somethin' like the end of Wils's crutch. +An' knowin' how Wils uses that every time he gets off his horse, +why, the dirty pup carried his instrument with him an' made these +tracks!"</p> +<p>Wade left the trail then, and, leading his horse to a covert of +spruce, he sat down to rest and think. Was there any reason for +following Belllounds farther? It did not seem needful to take the +risk of being discovered. The forest above was open. No doubt +Belllounds would drive the cattle somewhere and turn them over to +his accomplices.</p> +<p>"Buster Jack's outbusted himself this time, sure," soliloquized +Wade. "He's double-crossin' his rustler friends, same as he is +Moore. For he's goin' to blame this cattle-stealin' onto Wils. An' +to do that he's layin' his tracks so he can follow them, or so any +good trailer can. It doesn't concern me so much now who're his +pards in this deal. Reckon it's Smith an' some of his gang."</p> +<p>Suddenly it dawned upon Wade that Jack Belllounds was stealing +cattle from his father. "Whew!" he whistled softly. "Awful hard on +the old man! Who's to tell him when all this comes out? Aw, I'd +hate to do it. I wouldn't. There's some things even I'd not +tell."</p> +<p>Straightway this strange aspect of the case confronted Wade and +gripped his soul. He seemed to feel himself changing inwardly, as +if a gray, gloomy, sodden hand, as intangible as a ghostly dream, +had taken him bodily from himself and was now leading him into +shadows, into drear, lonely, dark solitude, where all was cold and +bleak; and on and on over naked shingles that marked the world of +tragedy. Here he must tell his tale, and as he plodded on his +relentless leader forced him to tell his tale anew.</p> +<p>Wade recognized this as his black mood. It was a morbid +dominance of the mind. He fought it as he would have fought a +devil. And mastery still was his. But his brow was clammy and his +heart was leaden when he had wrested that somber, mystic control +from his will.</p> +<p>"Reckon I'd do well to take up this trail to-morrow an' see +where it leads," he said, and as a gloomy man, burdened with +thought, he retraced his way down the long slope, and over the +benches, to the grassy slopes and aspen groves, and thus to the +sage hills.</p> +<p>It was dark when he reached the cabin, and Moore had supper +almost ready.</p> +<p>"Well, old-timer, you look fagged out," called out the cowboy, +cheerily. "Throw off your boots, wash up, and come and get it!"</p> +<p>"Pard Wils, I'm not reboundin' as natural as I'd like. I reckon +I've lived some years before I got here, an' a lifetime since."</p> +<p>"Wade, you have a queer look, lately," observed Moore, shaking +his head solemnly. "Why, I've seen a dying man look just like +you--now--round the mouth--but most in the eyes!"</p> +<p>"Maybe the end of the long trail is White Slides Ranch," replied +Wade, sadly and dreamily, as if to himself.</p> +<p>"If Collie heard you say that!" exclaimed Moore, in anxious +concern.</p> +<p>"Collie an' you will hear me say a lot before long," returned +Wade. "But, as it's calculated to make you happy--why, all's well. +I'm tired an' hungry."</p> +<p>Wade did not choose to sit round the fire that night, fearing to +invite interrogation from his anxious friend, and for that matter +from his other inquisitively morbid self.</p> +<p>Next morning, though Wade felt rested, and the sky was blue and +full of fleecy clouds, and the melody of birds charmed his ear, and +over all the June air seemed thick and beating with the invisible +spirit he loved, he sensed the oppression, the nameless something +that presaged catastrophe.</p> +<p>Therefore, when he looked out of the door to see Columbine +swiftly riding up the trail, her fair hair flying and shining in +the sunlight, he merely ejaculated, "Ahuh!"</p> +<p>"What's that?" queried Moore, sharp to catch the inflection.</p> +<p>"Look out," replied Wade, as he began to fill his pipe.</p> +<p>"Heavens! It's Collie! Look at her riding! Uphill, too!"</p> +<p>Wade followed him outdoors. Columbine was not long in arriving +at the cabin, and she threw the bridle and swung off in the same +motion, landing with a light thud. Then she faced them, pale, +resolute, stern, all the sweetness gone to bitter strength--another +and a strange Columbine.</p> +<p>"I've not slept a wink!" she said. "And I came as soon as I +could get away."</p> +<p>Moore had no word for her, not even a greeting. The look of her +had stricken him. It could have only one meaning.</p> +<p>"Mornin', lass," said the hunter, and he took her hand. "I +couldn't tell you looked sleepy, for all you said. Let's go into +the cabin."</p> +<p>So he led Columbine in, and Moore followed. The girl manifestly +was in a high state of agitation, but she was neither trembling nor +frightened nor sorrowful. Nor did she betray any lack of an +unflinching and indomitable spirit. Wade read the truth of what she +imagined was her doom in the white glow of her, in the matured +lines of womanhood that had come since yesternight, in the +sustained passion of her look.</p> +<p>"Ben! Wilson! The worst has come!" she announced.</p> +<p>Moore could not speak. Wade held Columbine's hand in both of +his.</p> +<p>"Worst! Now, Collie, that's a terrible word. I've heard it many +times. An' all my life the worst's been comin'. An' it hasn't come +yet. You--only twenty years old--talkin' wild--the worst has +come!... Tell me your trouble now an' I'll tell you where you're +wrong."</p> +<p>"Jack's a thief--a cattle-thief!" rang Columbine's voice, high +and clear.</p> +<p>"Ahuh! Well, go on," said Wade.</p> +<p>"Jack has taken money from rustlers--<i>for cattle stolen from +his father!</i>"</p> +<p>Wade felt the lift of her passion, and he vibrated to it.</p> +<p>"Reckon that's no news to me," he replied.</p> +<p>Then she quivered up to a strong and passionate delivery of the +thing that had transformed her.</p> +<p>"I'M GOING TO MARRY JACK BELLLOUNDS!"</p> +<p>Wilson Moore leaped toward her with a cry, to be held back by +Wade's hand.</p> +<p>"Now, Collie," he soothed, "tell us all about it."</p> +<p>Columbine, still upheld by the strength of her spirit, related +how she had ridden out the day before, early in the afternoon, in +the hope of meeting Wade. She rode over the sage hills, along the +edges of the aspen benches, everywhere that she might expect to +meet or see the hunter, but as he did not appear, and as she was +greatly desirous of talking with him, she went on up into the +woods, following the line of the Buffalo Park trail, though keeping +aside from it. She rode very slowly and cautiously, remembering +Wade's instructions. In this way she ascended the aspen benches, +and the spruce-bordered ridges, and then the first rise of the +black forest. Finally she had gone farther than ever before and +farther than was wise.</p> +<p>When she was about to turn back she heard the thud of hoofs +ahead of her. Pronto shot up his ears. Alarmed and anxious, +Columbine swiftly gazed about her. It would not do for her to be +seen. Yet, on the other hand, the chances were that the approaching +horse carried Wade. It was lucky that she was on Pronto, for he +could be trusted to stand still and not neigh. Columbine rode into +a thick clump of spruces that had long, shelving branches, reaching +down. Here she hid, holding Pronto motionless.</p> +<p>Presently the sound of hoofs denoted the approach of several +horses. That augmented Columbine's anxiety. Peering out of her +covert, she espied three horsemen trotting along the trail, and one +of them was Jack Belllounds. They appeared to be in strong +argument, judging from gestures and emphatic movements of their +heads. As chance would have it they halted their horses not half a +dozen rods from Columbine's place of concealment. The two men with +Belllounds were rough-looking, one of them, evidently a leader, +having a dark face disfigured by a horrible scar.</p> +<p>Naturally they did not talk loud, and Columbine had to strain +her ears to catch anything. But a word distinguished here and +there, and accompanying actions, made transparent the meaning of +their presence and argument. The big man refused to ride any +farther. Evidently he had come so far without realizing it. His +importunities were for "more head of stock." His scorn was for a +"measly little bunch not worth the risk." His anger was for +Belllounds's foolhardiness in "leavin' a trail." Belllounds had +little to say, and most of that was spoken in a tone too low to be +heard. His manner seemed indifferent, even reckless. But he wanted +"money." The scar-faced man's name was "Smith." Then Columbine +gathered from Smith's dogged and forceful gestures, and his words, +"no money" and "bigger bunch," that he was unwilling to pay what +had been agreed upon unless Belllounds promised to bring a larger +number of cattle. Here Belllounds roundly cursed the rustler, and +apparently argued that course "next to impossible." Smith made a +sweeping movement with his arm, pointing south, indicating some +place afar, and part of his speech was "Gore Peak." The little man, +companion of Smith, got into the argument, and, dismounting from +his horse, he made marks upon the smooth earth of the trail. He was +drawing a rude map showing direction and locality. At length, when +Belllounds nodded as if convinced or now informed, this third +member of the party remounted, and seemed to have no more to say. +Belllounds pondered sullenly. He snatched a switch from off a bough +overhead and flicked his boot and stirrup with it, an action that +made his horse restive. Smith leered and spoke derisively, of which +speech Columbine heard, "Aw hell!" and "yellow streak," and "no +one'd ever," and "son of Bill Belllounds," and "rustlin' stock." +Then this scar-faced man drew out a buckskin bag. Either the +contempt or the gold, or both, overbalanced vacillation in the weak +mind of Jack Belllounds, for he lifted his head, showing his face +pale and malignant, and without trace of shame or compunction he +snatched the bag of gold, shouted a hoarse, "All right, damn you!" +and, wheeling the white mustang, he spurred away, quickly +disappearing.</p> +<p>The rustlers sat their horses, gazing down the trail, and Smith +wagged his dark head doubtfully. Then he spoke quite distinctly, "I +ain't a-trustin' thet Belllounds pup!" and his comrade replied, +"Boss, we ain't stealin' the stock, so what th' hell!" Then they +turned their horses and trotted out of sight and hearing up the +timbered slope.</p> +<p>Columbine was so stunned, and so frightened and horrified, that +she remained hidden there for a long time before she ventured +forth. Then, heading homeward, she skirted the trail and kept to +the edge of the forest, making a wide detour over the hills, +finally reaching the ranch at sunset. Jack did not appear at the +evening meal. His father had one of his spells of depression and +seemed not to have noticed her absence. She lay awake all night +thinking and praying.</p> +<p>Columbine concluded her narrative there, and, panting from her +agitation and hurry, she gazed at the bowed figure of Moore, and +then at Wade.</p> +<p>"I <i>had</i> to tell you this shameful secret," she began +again. "I'm forced. If you do not help me, if something is not +done, there'll be a horrible--end to all!"</p> +<p>"We'll help you, but how?" asked Moore, raising a white +face.</p> +<p>"I don't know yet. I only <i>feel</i>--I only <i>feel</i> what +may happen, if I don't prevent it.... Wilson, you must go home--at +least for a while."</p> +<p>"It'll not look right for Wils to leave White Slides now," +interposed Wade, positively.</p> +<p>"But why? Oh, I fear--"</p> +<p>"Never mind now, lass. It's a good reason. An' you mustn't fear +anythin'. I agree with you--we've got to prevent this--this that's +goin' to happen."</p> +<p>"Oh, Ben, my dear friend, we must prevent it--you +<i>must!</i>"</p> +<p>"Ahuh!... So I was figurin'."</p> +<p>"Ben, you must go to Jack an' tell him--show him the +peril--frighten him terribly--so that he will not do--do this +shameful thing again."</p> +<p>"Lass, I reckon I could scare Jack out of his skin. But what +good would that do?"</p> +<p>"It'll stop this--this madness.... Then I'll marry him--and keep +him safe--after that!"</p> +<p>"Collie, do you think marryin' Buster Jack will stop his bustin' +out?"</p> +<p>"Oh, I <i>know</i> it will. He had conquered over the evil in +him. I saw that. I felt it. He conquered over his baser nature for +love of me. Then--when he heard--from my own lips--that I loved +Wilson--why, then he fell. He didn't care. He drank again. He let +go. He sank. And now he'll ruin us all. Oh, it looks as if he meant +it that way!... But I can change him. I will marry him. I will love +him--or I will <i>live a lie!</i> I will make him think I love +him!"</p> +<p>Wilson Moore, deadly pale, faced her with flaming eyes.</p> +<p>"Collie, <i>why?</i> For God's sake, explain why you will shame +your womanhood and ruin me--all for that coward--that thief?"</p> +<p>Columbine broke from Wade and ran to Wilson, as if to clasp him, +but something halted her and she stood before him.</p> +<p>"Because dad will kill him!" she cried.</p> +<p>"My God! what are you saying?" exclaimed Moore, incredulously. +"Old Bill would roar and rage, but hurt that boy of +his--never!"</p> +<p>"Wils, I reckon Collie is right. You haven't got Old Bill +figured. I know," interposed Wade, with one of his forceful +gestures.</p> +<p>"Wilson, listen, and don't set your heart against me. For I +<i>must</i> do this thing," pleaded Columbine. "I heard dad swear +he'd kill Jack. Oh, I'll never forget! He was terrible! If he ever +finds out that Jack stole from his own father--stole cattle like a +common rustler, and sold them for gold to gamble and drink with--he +will kill him!... That's as true as fate.... Think how horrible +that would be for me! Because I'm to blame here, mostly. I fell in +love with <i>you</i>, Wilson Moore, otherwise I could have saved +Jack already.</p> +<p>"But it's not that I think of myself. Dad has loved me. He has +been as a father to me. You know he's not my real father. Oh, if I +only had a real one!... And I owe him so much. But then it's not +because I owe him or because I love him. It's because of his own +soul!... That splendid, noble old man, who has been so good to +every one--who had only one fault, and that love of his son--must +he be let go in blinded and insane rage at the failure of his life, +the ruin of his son--must he be allowed to kill his own flesh and +blood?... It would be <i>murder!</i> It would damn dad's soul to +everlasting torment. No! No! I'll not let that be!"</p> +<p>"Collie--how about--your own soul?" whispered Moore, lifting +himself as if about to expend a tremendous breath.</p> +<p>"That doesn't matter," she replied.</p> +<p>"Collie--Collie--" he stammered, but could not go on.</p> +<p>Then it seemed to Wade that they both turned to him unconscious +of the inevitableness of his relation to this catastrophe, yet +looking to him for the spirit, the guidance that became habitual to +them. It brought the warm blood back to Wade's cold heart. It was +his great reward. How intensely and implacably did his soul mount +to that crisis!</p> +<p>"Collie, I'll never fail you," he said, and his gentle voice was +deep and full. "If Jack can be scared into haltin' in his mad ride +to hell--then I'll do it. I'm not promisin' so much for him. But +I'll swear to you that Old Belllounds's hands will never be stained +with his son's blood!"</p> +<p>"Oh, Ben! Ben!" she cried, in passionate gratitude. "I'll love +you--bless you all my life!"</p> +<p>"Hush, lass! I'm not one to bless.... An' now you must do as I +say. Go home an' tell them you'll marry Jack in August. Say August +thirteenth."</p> +<p>"So long! Oh, why put it off? Wouldn't it be better--safer, to +settle it all--once and forever?"</p> +<p>"No man can tell everythin'. But that's my judgment."</p> +<p>"Why August thirteenth?" she queried, with strange curiosity. +"An unlucky date!"</p> +<p>"Well, it just happened to come to my mind--that date," replied +Wade, in his slow, soft voice of reminiscence. "I was married on +August thirteenth--twenty-one years ago.... An', Collie, my wife +looked somethin' like you. Isn't that strange, now? It's a little +world.... An' she's been gone eighteen years!"</p> +<p>"Ben, I never dreamed you ever had a wife," said Columbine, +softly, with her hands going to his shoulder. "You must tell me of +her some day.... But now--if you want time--if you think it +best--I'll not marry Jack till August thirteenth."</p> +<p>"That'll give me time," replied Wade. "I'm thinkin' Jack ought +to be--reformed, let's call it--before you marry him. If all you +say is true--why we can turn him round. Your promise will do +most.... So, then, it's settled?"</p> +<p>"Yes--dear--friends," faltered the girl, tremulously, on the +verge of a breakdown, now that the ordeal was past.</p> +<p>Wilson Moore stood gazing out of the door, his eyes far away on +the gray slopes.</p> +<p>"Queer how things turn out," he said, dreamily. "August +thirteenth!... That's about the time the columbines blow on the +hills.... And I always meant columbine-time--"</p> +<p>Here he sharply interrupted himself, and the dreamy musing gave +way to passion. "But I mean it yet! I'll--I'll die before I give up +hope of you!"</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI</h2> +<br> +<p>Wade, watching Columbine ride down the slope on her homeward +way, did some of the hardest thinking he had yet been called upon +to do. It was not necessary to acquaint Wilson Moore with the +deeper and more subtle motives that had begun to actuate him. It +would not utterly break the cowboy's spirit to live in suspense. +Columbine was safe for the present. He had insured her against +fatality. Time was all he needed. Possibility of an actual +consummation of her marriage to Jack Belllounds did not lodge for +an instant in Wade's consciousness. In Moore's case, however, the +present moment seemed critical. What should he tell Moore--what +should he conceal from him?</p> +<p>"Son, come in here," he called to the cowboy.</p> +<p>"Pard, it looks--bad!" said Moore, brokenly.</p> +<p>Wade looked at the tragic face and cursed under his breath.</p> +<p>"Buck up! It's never as bad as it looks. Anyway, we <i>know</i> +now what to expect, an' that's well."</p> +<p>Moore shook his head. "Couldn't you see how like steel Collie +was?... But I'm on to you, Wade. You think by persuading Collie to +put that marriage off that we'll gain time. You're gambling with +time. You swear Buster Jack will hang himself. You won't quit +fighting this deal."</p> +<p>"Buster Jack has slung the noose over a tree, an' he's about +ready to slip his head into it," replied Wade.</p> +<p>"Bah!... You drive me wild," cried Moore, passionately. "How can +you? Where's all that feeling you seemed to have for me? You nursed +me--you saved my leg--and my life. You must have cared about me. +But now--you talk about that dolt--that spoiled old man's pet--that +damned cur, as if you believed he'd ruin himself. No such luck! no +such hope!... Every day things grow worse. Yet the worse they grow +the stronger you seem! It's all out of proportion. It's dreams. +Wade, I hate to say it, but I'm sure you're not always--just right +in your mind."</p> +<p>"Wils, now ain't that queer?" replied Wade, sadly. "I'm agreein' +with you."</p> +<p>"Aw!" Moore shook himself savagely and laid an affectionate and +appealing arm on his friend's shoulder. "Forgive me, pard!... It's +me who's out of his head.... But my heart's broken."</p> +<p>"That's what you think," rejoined Wade, stoutly. "But a man's +heart can't break in a day. I know.... An' the God's truth is +Buster Jack will hang himself!"</p> +<p>Moore raised his head sharply, flinging himself back from his +friend so as to scrutinize his face. Wade felt the piercing power +of that gaze.</p> +<p>"Wade, what do you mean?"</p> +<p>"Collie told us some interestin' news about Jack, didn't she? +Well, she didn't know what I know. Jack Belllounds had laid a +cunnin' an' devilish trap to prove you guilty of rustlin' his +father's cattle."</p> +<p>"Absurd!" ejaculated Moore, with white lips.</p> +<p>"I'd never given him credit for brains to hatch such a plot," +went on Wade. "Now listen. Not long ago Buster Jack made a remark +in front of the whole outfit, includin' his father, that the +homesteaders on the range were rustlin' cattle. It fell sort of +flat, that remark. But no one could calculate on his infernal +cunnin'. I quit workin' for Belllounds that night, an' I've put my +time in spyin' on the boy. In my day I've done a good deal of +spyin', but I've never run across any one slicker than Buster Jack. +To cut it short--he got himself a white-speckled mustang that's a +dead ringer for Spottie. He measured the tracks of your horse's +left front foot--the bad hoof, you know, an' he made a shoe exactly +the same as Spottie wears. Also, he made some kind of a contraption +that's like the end of your crutch. These he packs with him. I saw +him ride across the pasture to hide his tracks, climb up the sage +for the same reason, an' then hide in that grove of aspens over +there near the trail you use. Here, you can bet, he changed shoes +on the left front foot of his horse. Then he took to the trail, an' +he left tracks for a while, an' then he was careful to hide them +again. He stole his father's stock an' drove it up over the grassy +benches where even you or I couldn't track him next day. But up on +top, when it suited him, he left some horse tracks, an' in the mud +near a spring-hole he gets off his horse, steppin' with one +foot--an' makin' little circles with dots like those made by the +end of your crutch. Then 'way over in the woods there's a cabin +where he meets his accomplices. Here he leaves the same horse +tracks an' crutch tracks.... Simple as a b c, Wils, when you see +how he did it. But I'll tell you straight--if I hadn't been +suspicious of Buster Jack--that trick of his would have made you a +rustler!"</p> +<p>"Damn him!" hissed the cowboy, in utter consternation and +fury.</p> +<p>"Ahuh! That's my sentiment exactly."</p> +<p>"I swore to Collie I'd never kill him!"</p> +<p>"Sure you did, son. An' you've got to keep that oath. I pin you +down to it. You can't break faith with Collie.... An' you don't +want his bad blood on your hands."</p> +<p>"No! No!" he replied, violently. "Of course I don't. I won't. +But God! how sweet it would be to tear out his lying +tongue--to--"</p> +<p>"I reckon it would. Only don't talk about that," interrupted +Wade, bluntly. "You see, now, don't you, how he's about hanged +himself."</p> +<p>"No, pard, I don't. We can't squeal that on him, any more than +we can squeal what Collie told us."</p> +<p>"Son, you're young in dealin' with crooked men. You don't get +the drift of motives. Buster Jack is not only robbin' his father +an' hatchin' a dirty trap for you, but he's double-crossin' the +rustlers he's sellin' the cattle to. He's riskin' their necks. He's +goin' to find <i>your</i> tracks, showin' you dealt with them. +Sure, he won't give them away, an' he's figurin' on their gettin' +out of it, maybe by leavin' the range, or a shootin'-fray, or some +way. The big thing with Jack is that he's goin' to accuse you of +rustlin' an' show your tracks to his father. Well, that's a risk +he's given the rustlers. It happens that I know this scar-face +Smith. We've met before. Now it's easy to see from what Collie +heard that Smith is not trustin' Buster Jack. So, all underneath +this Jack Belllounds's game, there's forces workin' unbeknown to +him, beyond his control, an' sure to ruin him."</p> +<p>"I see. I see. By Heaven! Wade, nothing else but ruin seems +possible!... But suppose it works out his way!... What then? What +of Collie?"</p> +<p>"Son, I've not got that far along in my reckonin'," replied +Wade.</p> +<p>"But for my sake--think. If Buster Jack gets away with his +trick--if he doesn't hang himself by some blunder or fit of temper +or spree--what then of Collie?"</p> +<p>Wade could not answer this natural and inevitable query for the +reason that he had found it impossible of consideration.</p> +<p>"Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof," he replied.</p> +<p>"Wade, you've said that before. It helped me. But now I need +more than a few words from the Bible. My faith is low. I ... oh, I +tried to pray because Collie told me she had prayed! But what are +prayers? We're dealing with a stubborn, iron-willed old man who +idolizes his son; we're dealing with a crazy boy, absolutely +self-centered, crafty, and vicious, who'll stop at nothing. And, +lastly, we're dealing with a girl who's so noble and high-souled +that she'll sacrifice her all--her life to pay her debt. If she +were really Bill Belllounds's daughter she'd <i>never</i> marry +Jack, saying, of course, that he was not her brother.... Do you +know that it will <i>kill</i> her, if she marries him?"</p> +<p>"Ahuh! I reckon it would," replied Wade, with his head bowed. +Moore roused his gloomy forebodings. He did not care to show this +feeling or the effect the cowboy's pleading had upon him.</p> +<p>"Ah! so you admit it? Well, then, what of Collie?"</p> +<p>"<i>If</i> she marries him--she'll have to die, I suppose," +replied Wade.</p> +<p>Then Wilson Moore leaped at his friend and with ungentle hands +lifted him, pushed him erect.</p> +<p>"Damn you, Wade! You're not square with me! You don't tell me +all!" he cried, hoarsely.</p> +<p>"Now, Wils, you're set up. I've told you all I know. I swear +that."</p> +<p>"But you couldn't stand the thought of Collie dying for that +brute! You couldn't! Oh, I know. I can feel some things that are +hard to tell. So, you're either out of your head or you've +something up your sleeve. It's hard to explain how you affect me. +One minute I'm ready to choke you for that damned +strangeness--whatever it is. The next minute I feel it--I trust it, +myself.... Wade, you're not--you <i>can't</i> be infallible!"</p> +<p>"I'm only a man, Wils, an' your friend. I reckon you do find me +queer. But that's no matter. Now let's look at this deal--each from +his own side of the fence. An' each actin' up to his own lights! +You do what your conscience dictates, always thinkin' of +Collie--not of yourself! An' I'll live up to my principles. Can we +do more?"</p> +<p>"No, indeed, Wade, we can't," replied Moore, eloquently.</p> +<p>"Well, then, here's my hand. I've talked too much, I reckon. An' +the time for talkin' is past."</p> +<p>In silence Moore gripped the hand held out to him, trying to +read Wade's mind, apparently once more uplifted and strengthened by +that which he could not divine.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>Wade's observations during the following week brought forth the +fact that Jack Belllounds was not letting any grass grow under his +feet. He endeavored to fulfil his agreement with Smith, and drove a +number of cattle by moonlight. These were part of the stock that +the rancher had sold to buyers at Kremmling, and which had been +collected and held in the big, fenced pasture down the valley next +to the Andrews ranch. The loss was not discovered until the cattle +had been counted at Kremmling. Then they were credited to loss by +straying. In driving a considerable herd of half-wild steers, with +an inadequate force of cowboys, it was no unusual thing to lose a +number.</p> +<p>Wade, however, was in possession of the facts not later than the +day after this midnight steal in the moonlight. He was forced to +acknowledge that no one would have believed it possible for Jack +Belllounds to perform a feat which might well have been difficult +for the best of cowboys. But Jack accomplished it and got back home +before daylight. And Wade was bound to admit that circumstantial +evidence against Wilson Moore, which, of course, Jack Belllounds +would soon present, would be damning and apparently +irrefutable.</p> +<p>Waiting for further developments, Wade closely watched the +ranch-house, which duty interfered with his attention to the +outlying trails. What he did not want to miss was being present +when Jack Belllounds accused Wilson Moore of rustling cattle.</p> +<p>So it chanced that Wade was chatting with the cowboys one Sunday +afternoon when Jack, accompanied by three strangers, all mounted on +dusty, tired horses, rode up to the porch and dismounted.</p> +<p>Lem Billings manifested unusual excitement.</p> +<p>"Montana, ain't thet Sheriff Burley from Kremmlin'?" he +queried.</p> +<p>"Shore looks like him.... Yep, thet's him. Now, what's +doin'?"</p> +<p>The cowboys exchanged curious glances, and then turned to +Wade.</p> +<p>"Bent, what do you make of thet?" asked Lem, as he waved his +hand toward the house. "Buster Jack ridin' up with Sheriff +Burley."</p> +<p>The rancher, Belllounds, who was on the porch, greeted the +visitors, and then they all went into the house.</p> +<p>"Boys, it's what I've been lookin' for," replied Wade.</p> +<p>"Shore. Reckon we all have idees. An' if my idee is correct I'm +agoin' to git pretty damn sore pronto," declared Lem.</p> +<p>They were all silent for a few moments, meditating over this +singular occurrence, and watching the house. Presently Old Bill +Belllounds strode out upon the porch, and, walking out into the +court, he peered around as if looking for some one. Then he espied +the little group of cowboys.</p> +<p>"Hey!" he yelled. "One of you boys ride up an' fetch Wils Moore +down hyar!"</p> +<p>"All right, boss," called Lem, in reply, as he got up and gave a +hitch to his belt.</p> +<p>The rancher hurried back, head down, as if burdened.</p> +<p>"Wade, I reckon you want to go fetch Wils?" queried Lem.</p> +<p>"If it's all the same to you. I'd rather not," replied Wade.</p> +<p>"By Golly! I don't blame you. Boys, shore'n hell, Burley's after +Wils."</p> +<p>"Wal, suppos'n' he is," said Montana. "You can gamble Wils ain't +agoin' to run. I'd jest like to see him face thet outfit. Burley's +a pretty square fellar. An' he's no fool."</p> +<p>"It's as plain as your nose, Montana, an' thet's shore big +enough," returned Lem, with a hard light in his eyes. "Buster +Jack's busted out, an' he's figgered Wils in some deal thet's rung +in the sheriff. Wal, I'll fetch Wils." And, growling to himself, +the cowboy slouched off after his horse.</p> +<p>Wade got up, deliberate and thoughtful, and started away.</p> +<p>"Say, Bent, you're shore goin' to see what's up?" asked Montana, +in surprise.</p> +<p>"I'll be around, Jim," replied Wade, and he strolled off to be +alone. He wanted to think over this startling procedure of Jack +Belllounds's. Wade was astonished. He had expected that an +accusation would be made against Moore by Jack, and an exploitation +of such proofs as had been craftily prepared, but he had never +imagined Jack would be bold enough to carry matters so far. Sheriff +Burley was a man of wide experience, keen, practical, shrewd. He +was also one of the countless men Wade had rubbed elbows with in +the eventful past. It had been Wade's idea that Jack would be +satisfied to face his father with the accusation of Moore, and thus +cover his tracks. Whatever Old Belllounds might have felt over the +loss of a few cattle, he would never have hounded and arrested a +cowboy who had done well by him. Burley, however, was a sheriff, +and a conscientious one, and he happened to be particularly set +against rustlers.</p> +<p>Here was a complication of circumstances. What would Jack +Belllounds insist upon? How would Columbine take this plot against +the honor and liberty of Wilson Moore? How would Moore himself +react to it? Wade confessed that he was helpless to solve these +queries, and there seemed to be a further one, insistent and +gathering--what was to be his own attitude here? That could not be +answered, either, because only a future moment, over which he had +no control, and which must decide events, held that secret. Worry +beset Wade, but he still found himself proof against the insidious +gloom ever hovering near, like his shadow.</p> +<p>He waited near the trail to intercept Billings and Moore on +their way to the ranch-house; and to his surprise they appeared +sooner than it would have been reasonable to expect them. Wade +stepped out of the willows and held up his hand. He did not see +anything unusual in Moore's appearance.</p> +<p>"Wils, I reckon we'd do well to talk this over," said Wade.</p> +<p>"Talk what over?" queried the cowboy, sharply.</p> +<br> +<a name="p280.jpg"></a> +<p class="ctr"><a href="images/p280.jpg"><img src="images/p280.jpg" +width="65%" alt=""></a><br> +<b>"Jack Belllounds!" she cried. "You put the sheriff on that +trail!"</b></p> +<br> +<p>"Why, Old Bill's sendin' for you, an' the fact of Sheriff Burley +bein' here."</p> +<p>"Talk nothing. Let's see what they want, and then talk. Pard, +you remember the agreement we made not long ago?"</p> +<p>"Sure. But I'm sort of worried, an' maybe--"</p> +<p>"You needn't worry about me. Come on," interrupted Moore. "I'd +like you to be there. And, Lem, fetch the boys."</p> +<p>"I shore will, an' if you need any backin' you'll git it."</p> +<p>When they reached the open Lem turned off toward the corrals, +and Wade walked beside Moore's horse up to the house.</p> +<p>Belllounds appeared at the door, evidently having heard the +sound of hoofs.</p> +<p>"Hello, Moore! Get down an' come in," he said, gruffly.</p> +<p>"Belllounds, if it's all the same to you I'll take mine in the +open," replied the cowboy, coolly.</p> +<p>The rancher looked troubled. He did not have the ease and force +habitual to him in big moments.</p> +<p>"Come out hyar, you men," he called in the door.</p> +<p>Voices, heavy footsteps, the clinking of spurs, preceded the +appearance of the three strangers, followed by Jack Belllounds. The +foremost was a tall man in black, sandy-haired and freckled, with +clear gray eyes, and a drooping mustache that did not hide stern +lips and rugged chin. He wore a silver star on his vest, packed a +gun in a greasy holster worn low down on his right side, and under +his left arm he carried a package.</p> +<p>It suited Wade, then, to step forward; and if he expected +surprise and pleasure to break across the sheriff's stern face he +certainly had not reckoned in vain.</p> +<p>"Wal, I'm a son-of-a-gun!" ejaculated Burley, bending low, with +quick movement, to peer at Wade.</p> +<p>"Howdy, Jim. How's tricks?" said Wade, extending his hand, and +the smile that came so seldom illumined his sallow face.</p> +<p>"Hell-Bent Wade, as I'm a born sinner!" shouted the sheriff, and +his hand leaped out to grasp Wade's and grip it and wring it. His +face worked. "My Gawd! I'm glad to see you, old-timer! Wal, you +haven't changed at all!... Ten years! How time flies! An' it's +shore you?"</p> +<p>"Same, Jim, an' powerful glad to meet you," replied Wade.</p> +<p>"Shake hands with Bridges an' Lindsay," said Burley, indicating +his two comrades. "Stockmen from Grand Lake.... Boys, you've heerd +me talk about him. Wade an' I was both in the old fight at Blair's +ranch on the Gunnison. An' I've shore reason to recollect him!... +Wade, what're you doin' up in these diggin's?"</p> +<p>"Drifted over last fall, Jim, an' have been huntin' varmints for +Belllounds," replied Wade. "Cleaned the range up fair to middlin'. +An' since I quit Belllounds I've been hangin' round with my young +pard here, Wils Moore, an' interestin' myself in lookin' up cattle +tracks."</p> +<p>Burley's back was toward Belllounds and his son, so it was +impossible for them to see the sudden little curious light that +gleamed in his eyes as he looked hard at Wade, and then at +Moore.</p> +<p>"Wils Moore. How d'ye do? I reckon I remember you, though I +don't ride up this way much of late years."</p> +<p>The cowboy returned the greeting civilly enough, but with +brevity.</p> +<p>Belllounds cleared his throat and stepped forward. His manner +showed he had a distasteful business at hand.</p> +<p>"Moore, I sent for you on a serious matter, I'm sorry to +say."</p> +<p>"Well, here I am. What is it?" returned the cowboy, with clear, +hazel eyes, full of fire, steady on the old rancher's.</p> +<p>"Jack, you know, is foreman of White Slides now. An' he's made a +charge against you."</p> +<p>"Then let him face me with it," snapped Moore.</p> +<p>Jack Belllounds came forward, hands in his pockets, +self-possessed, even a little swaggering, and his pale face and +bold eyes showed the gravity of the situation and his mastery over +it.</p> +<p>Wade watched this meeting of the rivals and enemies with an +attention powerfully stimulated by the penetrating scrutiny Burley +laid upon them. Jack did not speak quickly. He looked hard into the +tense face of Moore. Wade detected a vibration of Jack's frame and +a gleam of eye that showed him not wholly in control of exultation +and revenge. Fear had not struck him yet.</p> +<p>"Well, Buster Jack, what's the charge?" demanded Moore, +impatiently.</p> +<p>The old name, sharply flung at Jack by this cowboy, seemed to +sting and reveal and inflame. But he restrained himself as with +roving glance he searched Moore's person for sight of a weapon. The +cowboy was unarmed.</p> +<p>"I accuse you of stealing my father's cattle," declared Jack, in +low, husky accents. After he got the speech out he swallowed +hard.</p> +<p>Moore's face turned a dead white. For a fleeting instant a red +and savage gleam flamed in his steady glance. Then it vanished.</p> +<p>The cowboys, who had come up, moved restlessly. Lem Billings +dropped his head, muttering. Montana Jim froze in his tracks.</p> +<p>Moore's dark eyes, scornful and piercing, never moved from +Jack's face. It seemed as if the cowboy would never speak +again.</p> +<p>"You call me thief! You?" at length he exclaimed.</p> +<p>"Yes, I do," replied Belllounds, loudly.</p> +<p>"Before this sheriff and your father you accuse me of stealing +cattle?"</p> +<p>"Yes."</p> +<p>"And you accuse me before this man who saved my life, who +<i>knows</i> me--before Hell-Bent Wade?" demanded Moore, as he +pointed to the hunter.</p> +<p>Mention of Wade in that significant tone of passion and wonder +was not without effect upon Jack Belllounds.</p> +<p>"What in hell do I care for Wade?" he burst out, with the old +intolerance. "Yes, I accuse you. Thief, rustler!... And for all I +know your precious Hell-Bent Wade may be--"</p> +<p>He was interrupted by Burley's quick and authoritative +interference.</p> +<p>"Hyar, young man, I'm allowin' for your natural feelin's," he +said, dryly, "but I advise you to bite your tongue. I ain't +acquainted with Mister Moore, but I happen to know Wade. Do you +savvy?... Wal, then, if you've any more to say to Moore get it +over."</p> +<p>"I've had my say," replied Belllounds, sullenly.</p> +<p>"On what grounds do you accuse me?" demanded Moore.</p> +<p>"I trailed you. I've got my proofs."</p> +<p>Burley stepped off the porch and carefully laid down his +package.</p> +<p>"Moore, will you get off your hoss?" he asked. And when the +cowboy had dismounted and limped aside the sheriff continued, "Is +this the hoss you ride most?"</p> +<p>"He's the only one I have."</p> +<p>Burley sat down upon the edge of the porch and, carefully +unwrapping the package, he disclosed some pieces of hard-baked +yellow mud. The smaller ones bore the imprint of a circle with a +dot in the center, very clearly defined. The larger piece bore the +imperfect but reasonably clear track of a curiously shaped +horseshoe, somewhat triangular. The sheriff placed these pieces +upon the ground. Then he laid hold of Moore's crutch, which was +carried like a rifle in a sheath hanging from the saddle, and, +drawing it forth, he carefully studied the round cap on the end. +Next he inserted this end into both the little circles on the +pieces of mud. They fitted perfectly. The cowboys bent over to get +a closer view, and Billings was wagging his head. Old Belllounds +had an earnest eye for them, also. Burley's next move was to lift +the left front foot of Moore's horse and expose the bottom to view. +Evidently the white mustang did not like these proceedings, but he +behaved himself. The iron shoe on this hoof was somewhat triangular +in shape. When Burley held the larger piece of mud, with its +imprint, close to the hoof, it was not possible to believe that +this iron shoe had not made the triangular-shaped track.</p> +<p>Burley let go of the hoof and laid the pieces of mud down. +Slowly the other men straightened up. Some one breathed hard.</p> +<p>"Moore, what do them tracks look like to you?" asked the +sheriff.</p> +<p>"They look like mine," replied the cowboy.</p> +<p>"They are yours."</p> +<p>"I'm not denying that."</p> +<p>"I cut them pieces of mud from beside a water-hole over hyar +under Gore Peak. We'd trailed the cattle Belllounds lost, an' then +we kept on trailin' them, clear to the road that goes over the +ridge to Elgeria.... Now Bridges an' Lindsay hyar bought stock +lately from strange cattlemen who didn't give no clear idee of +their range. Jest buyin' an' sellin', they claimed.... I reckon the +extra hoss tracks we run across at Gore Peak connects up them +buyers an' sellers with whoever drove Belllounds's cattle up +thar.... Have you anythin' more to say?"</p> +<p>"No. Not here," replied Moore, quietly.</p> +<p>"Then I'll have to arrest you an' take you to Kremmlin' fer +trial."</p> +<p>"All right. I'll go."</p> +<p>The old rancher seemed genuinely shocked. Red tinged his cheek +and a flame flared in his eyes.</p> +<p>"Wils, you done me dirt," he said, wrathfully. "An' I always +swore by you.... Make a clean breast of the whole damn bizness, if +you want me to treat you white. You must have been locoed or drunk, +to double-cross me thet way. Come on, out with it."</p> +<p>"I've nothing to say," replied Moore.</p> +<p>"You act amazin' strange fer a cowboy I've knowed to lean toward +fightin' at the drop of a hat. I tell you, speak out an' I'll do +right by you.... I ain't forgettin' thet White Slides gave you a +hard knock. An' I was young once an' had hot blood."</p> +<p>The old rancher's wrathful pathos stirred the cowboy to a +straining-point of his unnatural, almost haughty composure. He +seemed about to break into violent utterance. Grief and horror and +anger seemed at the back of his trembling lips. The look he gave +Belllounds was assuredly a strange one, to come from a cowboy who +was supposed to have stolen his former employer's cattle. Whatever +he might have replied was cut off by the sudden appearance of +Columbine.</p> +<p>"Dad, I heard you!" she cried, as she swept upon them, fearful +and wide-eyed. "What has Wilson Moore done--that you'll do right by +him?"</p> +<p>"Collie, go back in the house," he ordered.</p> +<p>"No. There's something wrong here," she said, with mounting +dread in the swift glance she shot from man to man. "Oh! +You're--Sheriff Burley!" she gasped.</p> +<p>"I reckon I am, miss, an' if young Moore's a friend of yours I'm +sorry I came," replied Burley.</p> +<p>Wade himself reacted subtly and thrillingly to the presence of +the girl. She was alive, keen, strung, growing white, with +darkening eyes of blue fire, beginning to grasp intuitively the +meaning here.</p> +<p>"My friend! He <i>was</i> more than that--not long ago.... What +has he done? Why are you here?"</p> +<p>"Miss, I'm arrestin' him."</p> +<p>"Oh!... For what?"</p> +<p>"Rustlin' your father's cattle."</p> +<p>For a moment Columbine was speechless. Then she burst out, "Oh, +there's a terrible mistake!"</p> +<p>"Miss Columbine, I shore hope so," replied Burley, much +embarrassed and distressed. Like most men of his kind, he could not +bear to hurt a woman. "But it looks bad fer Moore.... See hyar! +There! Look at the tracks of his hoss--left front foot-shoe all +crooked. Thet's his hoss's. He acknowledges thet. An', see hyar. +Look at the little circles an' dots.... I found these 'way over at +Gore Peak, with the tracks of the stolen cattle. An' no +<i>other</i> tracks, Miss Columbine!"</p> +<p>"Who put you on that trail?" she asked, piercingly.</p> +<p>"Jack, hyar. He found it fust, an' rode to Kremmlin' fer +me."</p> +<p>"Jack! Jack Belllounds!" she cried, bursting into wild and +furious laughter. Like a tigress she leaped at Jack as if to tear +him to pieces. "You put the sheriff on that trail! You accuse +Wilson Moore of stealing dad's cattle!"</p> +<p>"Yes, and I proved it," replied Jack, hoarsely.</p> +<p>"You! <i>You</i> proved it? So that's your revenge?... But +you're to reckon with me, Jack Belllounds! You villain! You devil! +You--" Suddenly she shrank back with a strong shudder. She gasped. +Her face grew ghastly white. "<i>Oh, my God!</i> ... +horrible--unspeakable!"... She covered her face with her hands, and +every muscle of her seemed to contract until she was stiff. Then +her hands shot out to Moore.</p> +<p>"Wilson Moore, what have <i>you</i> to say--to this sheriff--to +Jack Belllounds--to <i>me?</i>"</p> +<p>Moore bent upon her a gaze that must have pierced her soul, so +like it was to a lightning flash of love and meaning and +eloquence.</p> +<p>"Collie, they've got the proof. I'll take my medicine.... Your +dad is good. He'll be easy on me!'</p> +<p>"<i>You lie!</i>" she whispered. "And I will tell why you +lie!"</p> +<p>Moore did not show the shame and guilt that should have been +natural with his confession. But he showed an agony of distress. +His hand sought Wade and dragged at him.</p> +<p>It did not need this mute appeal to tell Wade that in another +moment Columbine would have flung the shameful truth into the face +of Jack Belllounds. She was rising to that. She was terrible and +beautiful to see.</p> +<p>"Collie," said Wade, with that voice he knew had strange power +over her, with a clasp of her outflung hand, "no more! This is a +man's game. It's not for a woman to judge. Not here! It's Wils's +game--an' it's <i>mine</i>. I'm his friend. Whatever his trouble or +guilt, I take it on my shoulders. An' it will be as if it were +not!"</p> +<p>Moaning and wringing her hands, Columbine staggered with the +burden of the struggle in her.</p> +<p>"I'm quite--quite mad--or dreaming. Oh, Ben!" she cried.</p> +<p>"Brace up, Collie. It's sure hard. Wils, your friend and +playmate so many years--it's hard to believe! We all understand, +Collie. Now you go in, an' don't listen to any more or look any +more."</p> +<p>He led her down the porch to the door of her room, and as he +pushed it open he whispered, "I will save you, Collie, an' Wils, +an' the old man you call dad!"</p> +<p>Then he returned to the silent group in the yard.</p> +<p>"Jim, if I answer fer Wils Moore bein' in Kremmlin' the day you +say, will you leave him with me?"</p> +<p>"Wal, I shore will, Wade," replied Burley, heartily.</p> +<p>"I object to that," interposed Jack Belllounds, stridently. "He +confessed. He's got to go to jail."</p> +<p>"Wal, my hot-tempered young fellar, thar ain't any jail nearer +'n Denver. Did you know that?" returned Burley, with his dry, grim +humor. "Moore's under arrest. An' he'll be as well off hyar with +Wade as with me in Kremmlin', an' a damn sight happier."</p> +<p>The cowboy had mounted, and Wade walked beside him as he started +homeward. They had not progressed far when Wade's keen ears caught +the words, "Say, Belllounds, I got it figgered thet you an' your +son don't savvy this fellar Wade."</p> +<p>"Wal, I reckon not," replied the old rancher.</p> +<p>And his son let out a peal of laughter, bitter and scornful and +unsatisfied.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII</h2> +<br> +<p>Gore Peak was the highest point of the black range that extended +for miles westward from Buffalo Park. It was a rounded dome, +covered with timber and visible as a landmark from the surrounding +country. All along the eastern slope of that range an unbroken +forest of spruce and pine spread down to the edge of the valley. +This valley narrowed toward its source, which was Buffalo Park. A +few well-beaten trails crossed that country, one following Red +Brook down to Kremmling; another crossing from the Park to White +Slides; and another going over the divide down to Elgeria. The only +well-known trail leading to Gore Peak was a branch-off from the +valley, and it went round to the south and more accessible side of +the mountain.</p> +<p>All that immense slope of timbered ridges, benches, ravines, and +swales west of Buffalo Park was exceedingly wild and rough country. +Here the buffalo took to cover from hunters, and were safe until +they ventured forth into the parks again. Elk and deer and bear +made this forest their home.</p> +<p>Bent Wade, hunter now for bigger game than wild beasts of the +range, left his horse at Lewis's cabin and penetrated the dense +forest alone, like a deer-stalker or an Indian in his movements. +Lewis had acted as scout for Wade, and had ridden furiously down to +Sage Valley with news of the rustlers. Wade had accompanied him +back to Buffalo Park that night, riding in the dark. There were +urgent reasons for speed. Jack Belllounds had ridden to Kremmling, +and the hunter did not believe he would return by the road he had +taken.</p> +<p>Fox, Wade's favorite dog, much to his disgust, was left behind +with Lewis. The bloodhound, Kane, accompanied Wade. Kane had been +ill-treated and then beaten by Jack Belllounds, and he had left +White Slides to take up his home at Moore's cabin. And at last he +had seemed to reconcile himself to the hunter, not with love, but +without distrust. Kane never forgave; but he recognized his friend +and master. Wade carried his rifle and a buckskin pouch containing +meat and bread. His belt, heavily studded with shells, contained +two guns, both now worn in plain sight, with the one on the right +side hanging low. Wade's character seemed to have undergone some +remarkable change, yet what he represented then was not +unfamiliar.</p> +<p>He headed for the concealed cabin on the edge of the high +valley, under the black brow of Gore Peak. It was early morning of +a July day, with summer fresh and new to the forest. Along the park +edges the birds and squirrels were holding carnival. The grass was +crisp and bediamonded with sparkling frost. Tracks of game showed +sharp in the white patches. Wade paused once, listening. Ah! That +most beautiful of forest melodies for him--the bugle of an elk. +Clear, resonant, penetrating, with these qualities held and blended +by a note of wildness, it rang thrillingly through all Wade's +being. The hound listened, but was not interested. He kept close +beside the hunter or at his heels, a stealthily stepping, warily +glancing hound, not scenting the four-footed denizens of the +forest. He expected his master to put him on the trail of men.</p> +<p>The distance from the Park to Gore Peak, as a crow would have +flown, was not great. But Wade progressed slowly; he kept to the +dense parts of the forest; he avoided the open aisles, the swales, +the glades, the high ridges, the rocky ground. When he came to the +Elgeria trail he was not disappointed to find it smooth, untrodden +by any recent travel. Half a mile farther on through the forest, +however, he encountered tracks of three horses, made early the day +before. Still farther on he found cattle and horse tracks, now +growing old and dim. These tracks, pointed toward Elgeria, were +like words of a printed page to Wade.</p> +<p>About noon he climbed a rocky eminence that jutted out from a +slow-descending ridge, and from this vantage-point he saw down the +wavering black and green bosom of the mountain slope. A narrow +valley, almost hidden, gleamed yellow in the sunlight. At the edge +of this valley a faint column of blue smoke curled upward.</p> +<p>"Ahuh!" muttered the hunter, as he looked. The hound whined and +pushed a cool nose into Wade's hand.</p> +<p>Then Wade resumed his noiseless and stealthy course through the +woods. He began a descent, leading off somewhat to the right of the +point where the smoke had arisen. The presence of the rustlers in +the cabin was of importance, yet not so paramount as another +possibility. He expected Jack Belllounds to be with them or meet +them there, and that was the thing he wanted to ascertain. When he +got down below the little valley he swung around to the left to +cross the trail that came up from the main valley, some miles still +farther down. He found it, and was not surprised to see fresh horse +tracks, made that morning. He recognized those tracks. Jack +Belllounds was with the rustlers, come, no doubt, to receive his +pay.</p> +<p>Then the change in Wade, and the actions of a trailer of men, +became more singularly manifest. He reverted to some former habit +of mind and body. He was as slow as a shadow, absolutely silent, +and the gaze that roved ahead and all around must have taken note +of every living thing, of every moving leaf or fern or bough. The +hound, with hair curling up stiff on his back, stayed close to +Wade, watching, listening, and stepping with him. Certainly Wade +expected the rustlers to have some one of their number doing duty +as an outlook. So he kept uphill, above the cabin, and made his +careful way through the thicket coverts, which at that place were +dense and matted clumps of jack-pine and spruce. At last he could +see the cabin and the narrow, grassy valley just beyond. To his +relief the horses were unsaddled and grazing. No man was in sight. +But there might be a dog. The hunter, in his slow advance, used +keen and unrelaxing vigilance, and at length he decided that if +there had been a dog he would have been tied outside to give an +alarm.</p> +<p>Wade had now reached his objective point. He was some eighty +paces from the cabin, in line with an open aisle down which he +could see into the cleared space before the door. On his left were +thick, small spruces, with low-spreading branches, and they +extended all the way to the cabin on that side, and in fact +screened two walls of it. Wade knew exactly what he was going to +do. No longer did he hesitate. Laying down his rifle, he tied the +hound to a little spruce, patting him and whispering for him to +stay there and be still.</p> +<p>Then Wade's action in looking to his belt-guns was that of a man +who expected to have recourse to them speedily and by whom the +necessity was neither regretted nor feared. Stooping low, he +entered the thicket of spruces. The soft, spruce-matted ground, +devoid of brush or twig, did not give forth the slightest sound of +step, nor did the brushing of the branches against his body. In +some cases he had to bend the boughs. Thus, swiftly and silently, +with the gliding steps of an Indian, he approached the cabin till +the brown-barked logs loomed before him, shutting off the clearer +light.</p> +<p>He smelled a mingling of wood and tobacco smoke; he heard low, +deep voices of men; the shuffling and patting of cards; the musical +click of gold. Resting on his knees a moment the hunter +deliberated. All was exactly as he had expected. Luck favored him. +These gamblers would be absorbed in their game. The door of the +cabin was just around the corner, and he could glide noiselessly to +it or gain it in a few leaps. Either method would serve. But which +he must try depended upon the position of the men inside and that +of their weapons.</p> +<p>Rising silently, Wade stepped up to the wall and peeped through +a chink between the logs. The sunshine streamed through windows and +door. Jack Belllounds sat on the ground, full in its light, back to +the wall. He was in his shirt-sleeves. The gambling fever and the +grievous soreness of a loser shone upon his pale face. Smith sat +with back to Wade, opposite Belllounds. The other men completed the +square. All were close enough together to reach comfortably for the +cards and gold before them. Wade's keen eyes took this in at a +single glance, and then steadied searchingly for smaller features +of the scene. Belllounds had no weapon. Smith's belt and gun lay in +the sunlight on the hard, clay floor, out of reach except by +violent effort. The other two rustlers both wore their weapons. +Wade gave a long scrutiny to the faces of these comrades of Smith, +and evidently satisfied himself as to what he had to expect from +them.</p> +<p>Wade hesitated; then stooping low, he softly swept aside the +intervening boughs of spruce, glided out of the thicket into the +open. Two noiseless bounds! Another, and he was inside the +door!</p> +<p>"Howdy, rustlers! Don't move!" he called.</p> +<p>The surprise of his appearance, or his voice, or both, stunned +the four men. Belllounds dropped his cards, and his jaw dropped at +the same instant. These were absolutely the only visible +movements.</p> +<p>"I'm in talkin' humor, an' the longer you listen the longer +you'll have to live," said Wade. "But don't move!"</p> +<p>"We ain't movin'," burst out Smith. "Who're you, an' what d'ye +want?"</p> +<p>It was singular that the rustler leader had not had a look at +Wade, whose movements had been swift and who now stood directly +behind him. Also it was obvious that Smith was sitting very +stiff-necked and straight. Not improbably he had encountered such +situations before.</p> +<p>"Who're you?" he shouted, hoarsely.</p> +<p>"You ought to know me." The voice was Wade's, gentle, cold, with +depth and ring in it.</p> +<p>"I've heerd your voice somewhars--I'll gamble on thet."</p> +<p>"Sure. You ought to recognize my voice, Cap," returned Wade.</p> +<p>The rustler gave a violent start--a start that he controlled +instantly.</p> +<p>"Cap! You callin' me thet?"</p> +<p>"Sure. We're old friends--<i>Cap Folsom!</i>"</p> +<p>In the silence, then, the rustler's hard breathing could be +heard; his neck bulged red; only the eyes of his two comrades +moved; Belllounds began to recover somewhat from his consternation. +Fear had clamped him also, but not fear of personal harm or peril. +His mind had not yet awakened to that.</p> +<p>"You've got me pat! But who're you?" said Folsom, huskily.</p> +<p>Wade kept silent.</p> +<p>"Who'n hell is thet man?" yelled the rustler It was not a query +to his comrades any more than to the four winds. It was a furious +questioning of a memory that stirred and haunted, and as well a +passionate and fearful denial.</p> +<p>"His name's Wade," put in Belllounds, harshly. "He's the friend +of Wils Moore. He's the hunter I told you about--worked for my +father last winter."</p> +<p>"Wade?... What? <i>Wade!</i> You never told me his name. It +ain't--it ain't--"</p> +<p>"Yes, it is, Cap," interrupted Wade. "It's the old boy that +spoiled your handsome mug--long ago."</p> +<p>"<i>Hell-Bent Wade!</i>" gasped Folsom, in terrible accents. He +shook all over. An ashen paleness crept into his face. +Instinctively his right hand jerked toward his gun; then, as in his +former motion, froze in the very act.</p> +<p>"Careful, Cap!" warned Wade. "It'd be a shame not to hear me +talk a little.... Turn around now an' greet an old pard of the +Gunnison days."</p> +<p>Folsom turned as if a resistless, heavy force was revolving his +head.</p> +<p>"By Gawd!... Wade!" he ejaculated. The tone of his voice, the +light in his eyes, must have been a spiritual acceptance of a +dreadful and irrefutable fact--perhaps the proximity of death. But +he was no coward. Despite the hunter's order, given as he stood +there, gun drawn and ready, Folsom wheeled back again, savagely to +throw the deck of cards in Belllounds's face. He cursed +horribly.... "You spoiled brat of a rich rancher! Why'n hell didn't +you tell me thet varmint-hunter was Wade."</p> +<p>"I did tell you," shouted Belllounds, flaming of face.</p> +<p>"You're a liar! You never said Wade--W-a-d-e, right out, so I'd +hear it. An' I'd never passed by Hell-Bent Wade."</p> +<p>"Aw, that name made me tired," replied Belllounds, +contemptuously.</p> +<p>"Haw! Haw! Haw!" bawled the rustler. "Made you tired, hey? Think +you're funny? Wal, if you knowed how many men thet name's made +tired--an' tired fer keeps--you'd not think it so damn funny."</p> +<p>"Say, what're you giving me? That Sheriff Burley tried to tell +me and dad a lot of rot about this Wade. Why, he's only a little, +bow-legged, big-nosed meddler--a man with a woman's voice--a +sneaking cook and camp-doctor and cow-milker, and God only knows +what else."</p> +<p>"Boy, you're correct. God only knows what else!... It's the +<i>else</i> you've got to learn. An' I'll gamble you'll learn +it.... Wade, have you changed or grown old thet you let a pup like +this yap such talk?"</p> +<p>"Well, Cap, he's very amusin' just now, an' I want you-all to +enjoy him. Because, if you don't force my hand I'm goin' to tell +you some interestin' stuff about this Buster Jack.... Now, will you +be quiet an' listen--an' answer for your pards?"</p> +<p>"Wade, I answer fer no man. But, so far as I've noticed, my +pards ain't hankerin' to make any loud noise," Folsom replied, +indicating his comrades, with sarcasm.</p> +<p>The red-bearded one, a man of large frame and gaunt face, wicked +and wild-looking, spoke out, "Say, Smith, or whatever the hell's +yore right handle--is this hyar a game we're playin'?"</p> +<p>"I reckon. An' if you turn a trick you'll be damn lucky," +growled Folsom.</p> +<p>The other rustler did not speak. He was small, swarthy-faced, +with sloe-black eyes and matted hair, evidently a white man with +Mexican blood. Keen, strung, furtive, he kept motionless, awaiting +events.</p> +<p>"Buster Jack, these new pards of yours are low-down rustlers, +an' one of them's worse, as I could prove," said Wade, "but +compared with you they're all gentlemen."</p> +<p>Belllounds leered. But he was losing his bravado. Something +began to dawn upon his obtuse consciousness.</p> +<p>"What do I care for you or your gabby talk?" he flashed, +sullenly.</p> +<p>"You'll care when I tell these rustlers how you double-crossed +them."</p> +<p>Belllounds made a spring, like that of a wolf in a trap; but +when half-way up he slipped. The rustler on his right kicked him, +and he sprawled down again, back to the wall.</p> +<p>"Buster, look into this!" called Wade, and he leveled the gun +that quivered momentarily, like a compass needle, and then crashed +fire and smoke. The bullet spat into a log. But it had cut the lobe +of Belllounds's ear, bringing blood. His face turned a ghastly, +livid hue. All in a second terror possessed him--shuddering, +primitive terror of death.</p> +<p>Folsom haw-hawed derisively and in crude delight. "Say, Buster +Jack, don't get any idee thet my ole pard Wade was shootin' at your +head. Aw, no!"</p> +<p>The other rustlers understood then, if Belllounds had not, that +the situation was in control of a man not in any sense +ordinary.</p> +<p>"Cap, did you know Buster Jack accused my friend, Wils Moore, of +stealin' these cattle you're sellin'?" asked Wade, +deliberately.</p> +<p>"What cattle did you say?" asked the rustler, as if he had not +heard aright.</p> +<p>"The cattle Buster Jack stole from his father an' sold to +you."</p> +<p>"Wal, now! Bent Wade at his old tricks! I might have knowed it, +once I seen you.... Naw, I'd no idee Belllounds blamed thet +stealin' on to any one."</p> +<p>"He did."</p> +<p>"Ahuh! Wal, who's this Wils Moore?"</p> +<p>"He's a cowboy, as fine a youngster as ever straddled a horse. +Buster Jack hates him. He licked Jack a couple of times an' won the +love of a girl that Jack wants."</p> +<p>"Ho! Ho! Quite romantic, I declare.... Say, thar's some damn +queer notions I'm gettin' about you, Buster Jack."</p> +<p>Belllounds lay propped against the wall, sagging there, laboring +of chest, sweating of face. The boldness of brow held, because it +was fixed, but that of his eyes had gone; and his mouth and chin +showed craven weakness. He stared in dread suspense at Wade.</p> +<p>"Listen. An' all of you sit tight," went on Wade, swiftly. "Jack +stole the cattle from his father. He's a thief at heart. But he had +a double motive. He left a trail--he left tracks behind. He made a +crooked horseshoe, like that Wils Moore's horse wears, an' he put +that on his own horse. An' he made a contraption--a little iron +ring with a dot in it, an' he left the crooked shoe tracks, an' he +left the little ring tracks--"</p> +<p>"By Gawd! I seen them funny tracks!" ejaculated Folsom. "At the +water-hole an' right hyar in front of the cabin. I seen them. I +knowed Jack made them, somehow, but I didn't think. His white hoss +has a crooked left front shoe."</p> +<p>"Yes, he has, when Jack takes off the regular shoe an' nails on +the crooked one.... Men, I followed those tracks They lead up here +to your cabin. Belllounds made them with a purpose.... An' he went +to Kremmlin' to get Sheriff Burley. An' he put him wise to the +rustlin' of cattle to Elgeria. An' he fetched him up to White +Slides to accuse Wils Moore. An' he trailed his own tracks up here, +showin' Burley the crooked horse track an' the little circle--that +was supposed to be made by the end of Moore's crutch--an' he led +Burley with his men right to this cabin an' to the trail where you +drove the cattle over the divide.... An' then he had Burley dig out +some cakes of mud holdin' these tracks, an' they fetched them down +to White Slides. Buster Jack blamed the stealin' on to Moore. An' +Burley arrested Moore. The trial comes off next week at +Kremmlin'."</p> +<p>"Damn me!" exclaimed Folsom, wonderingly. "A man's never too old +to learn! I knowed this pup was stealin' from his own father, but I +reckoned he was jest a natural-born, honest rustler, with a hunch +fer drink an' cards."</p> +<p>"Well, he's double-crossed you, Cap. An' if I hadn't rounded you +up your chances would have been good for swingin'."</p> +<p>"Ahuh! Wade, I'd sure preferred them chances of swingin' to your +over-kind interferin' in my bizness. Allus interferin', Wade, +thet's your weakness!... But gimmie a gun!"</p> +<p>"I reckon not, Cap."</p> +<p>"Gimme a gun!" roared the rustler. "Lemme sit hyar an' shoot the +eyes outen this--lyin' pup of a Belllounds!... Wade, put a gun in +my hand--a gun with two shells--or only one. You can stand with +your gun at my head.... Let me kill this skunk!"</p> +<p>For all Belllounds could tell, death was indeed close. No trace +of a Belllounds was apparent about him then, and his face was a +horrid spectacle for a man to be forced to see. A froth foamed over +his hanging lower lip.</p> +<p>"Cap, I ain't trustin' you with a gun just this particular +minute," said Wade.</p> +<p>Folsom then bawled his curses to his comrades.</p> +<p>"----! Kill him! Throw your guns an' bore him--right in them +bulgin' eyes!... I'm tellin' you--we've gotta fight, anyhow. We're +agoin' to cash right hyar. But kill him first!"</p> +<p>Neither of Folsom's lieutenants yielded to the fierce +exhortation of their leader or to their own evilly expressed +passions. It was Wade who dominated them. Then ensued a silence +fraught with suspense, growing more charged every long instant. The +balance here seemed about to be struck.</p> +<p>"Wade, I've been a gambler all my life, an' a damn smart one, if +I do say it myself," declared the rustler leader, his voice +inharmonious with the facetiousness of his words. "An' I'll make a +last bet."</p> +<p>"Go ahead, Cap. What'll you bet?" answered the cold voice, still +gentle, but different now in its inflection.</p> +<p>"By Gawd! I'll bet all the gold hyar that Hell-Bent Wade +wouldn't shoot any man in the back!"</p> +<p>"You win!"</p> +<p>Slowly and stiffly the rustler rose to his feet. When he reached +his height he deliberately swung his leg to kick Belllounds in the +face.</p> +<p>"Thar! I'd like to have a reckonin' with you, Buster Jack," he +said. "I ain't dealin' the cards hyar. But somethin' tells me thet, +shaky as I am in my boots, I'd liefer be in mine than yours."</p> +<p>With that, and expelling a heavy breath, he wrestled around to +confront the hunter.</p> +<p>"Wade. I've no hunch to your game, but it's slower'n I recollect +you."</p> +<p>"Why, Cap, I was in a talkin' humor," replied Wade.</p> +<p>"Hell! You're up to some dodge. What'd you care fer my learnin' +thet pup had double-crossed me? You won't let me kill him."</p> +<p>"I reckon I wanted him to learn what real men thought of +him."</p> +<p>"Ahuh! Wal, an' now I've onlightened him, what's the next +deal?"</p> +<p>"You'll all go to Kremmlin' with me an' I'll turn you over to +Sheriff Burley."</p> +<p>That was the gauntlet thrown down by Wade. It was not +unexpected, and acceptance seemed a relief. Folsom's eyeballs +became living fire with the desperate gleam of the reckless chances +of life. Cutthroat he might have been, but he was brave, and he +proved the significance of Wade's attitude.</p> +<p>"Pards, hyar's to luck!" he rang out, hoarsely, and with +pantherish quickness he leaped for his gun.</p> +<p>A tense, surcharged instant--then all four men, as if released +by some galvanized current of rapidity, flashed into action. Guns +boomed in unison. Spurts of red, clouds of smoke, ringing reports, +and hoarse cries filled the cabin. Wade had fired as he leaped. +There was a thudding patter of lead upon the walls. The hunter +flung himself prostrate behind the bough framework that had served +as bedstead. It was made of spruce boughs, thick and substantial. +Wade had not calculated falsely in estimating it as a bulwark of +defense. Pulling his second gun, he peeped from behind the +covert.</p> +<p>Smoke was lifting, and drifting out of door and windows. The +atmosphere cleared. Belllounds sagged against the wall, pallid, +with protruding eyes of horror on the scene before him. The +dark-skinned little man lay writhing. All at once a tremor stilled +his convulsions. His body relaxed limply. As if by magic his hand +loosened on the smoking gun. Folsom was on his knees, reeling and +swaying, waving his gun, peering like a drunken man for some lost +object. His temple appeared half shot away, a bloody and horrible +sight.</p> +<p>"Pards, I got him!" he said, in strange, half-strangled whisper. +"I got him!... Hell-Bent Wade! My respects! I'll meet +you--thar!"</p> +<p>His reeling motion brought his gaze in line with Belllounds. The +violence of his start sent drops of blood flying from his gory +temple.</p> +<p>"Ahuh! The cards run--my way. Belllounds, hyar's to your--lyin' +eyes!"</p> +<p>The gun wavered and trembled and circled. Folsom strained in +last terrible effort of will to aim it straight. He fired. The +bullet tore hair from Belllounds's head, but missed him. Again the +rustler aimed, and the gun wavered and shook. He pulled trigger. +The hammer clicked upon an empty chamber. With low and gurgling cry +of baffled rage Folsom dropped the gun and sank face forward, +slowly stretching out.</p> +<p>The red-bearded rustler had leaped behind the stone chimney that +all but hid his body. The position made it difficult for him to +shoot because his gun-hand was on the inside, and he had to press +his body tight to squeeze it behind the corner of ragged stone. +Wade had the advantage. He was lying prone with his right hand +round the corner of the framework. An overhang of the bough-ends +above protected his head when he peeped out. While he watched for a +chance to shoot he loaded his empty gun with his left hand. The +rustler strained and writhed his body, twisting his neck, and +suddenly darting out his head and arm, he shot. His bullet tore the +overhang of boughs above Wade's face. And Wade's answering shot, +just a second too late, chipped the stone corner where the +rustler's face had flashed out. The bullet, glancing, hummed out of +the window. It was a close shave. The rustler let out a hissing, +inarticulate cry. He was trapped. In his effort to press in closer +he projected his left elbow beyond the corner of the chimney. +Wade's quick shot shattered his arm.</p> +<p>There was no asking or offering of quarter here. This was the +old feud of the West--of the vicious and the righteous in +strife--both reared in the same stern school. The rustler gave his +body such contortion that he was twisted almost clear around, with +his right hand over his left shoulder. He punched the muzzle of his +gun into a crack between two stones, and he pried to open them. The +dry clay cement crumbled, the crack widened. Sighting along the +barrel he aimed it with the narrow strip of Wades shoulder that was +visible above the framework. Then he shot and hit. Wade shrank +flatter and closer, hiding himself to better advantage. The rustler +made his great blunder then, for in that moment he might have +rushed out and killed his adversary. But, instead, he shot +again--another time--a third. And his heavy bullets tore and +splintered the boughs dangerously close to the hunter's head. Then +came an awkward, almost hopeless task for the rustler, in +maintaining his position while reloading his gun. He did it, and +his panting attested to the labor and pain it cost him.</p> +<p>So much, in fact, that he let his knee protrude. Wade fired, +breaking that knee. The rustler sagged in his tracks, his hip stuck +out to afford a target for the remorseless Wade. Still the doomed +man did not cry out, though it was evident that he could not now +keep his body from sagging into sight of the hunter. Then with a +desperate courage worthy of a better cause, and with a spirit great +in its defeat, the rustler plunged out from his hiding-place, gun +extended. His red beard, his gaunt face, fierce and baleful, his +wabbling plunge that was really a fall, made a sight which was +terrible. He hopped out of that fall. His gun began to blaze. But +it only matched the blazes of Wade's. And the rustler pitched +headlong over the framework, falling heavily against the wall +beyond.</p> +<p>Then there was silence for a long moment. Wade stirred, as if to +look around. Belllounds also stirred, and gulped, as if to breathe. +The three prostrate rustlers lay inert, their positions singularly +tragic and settled. The smoke again began to lift, to float out of +the door and windows. In another moment the big room seemed less +hazy.</p> +<p>Wade rose, not without effort, and he had a gun in each hand. +Those hands were bloody; there was blood on his face, and his left +shoulder was red. He approached Belllounds.</p> +<p>Wade was terrible then--terrible with a ruthlessness that was no +pretense. To Belllounds it must have represented death--a bloody +death which he was not prepared to meet.</p> +<p>"Come out of your trance, you pup rustler!" yelled Wade.</p> +<p>"For God's sake, don't kill me!" implored Belllounds, stricken +with terror.</p> +<p>"Why not? Look around! My busy day, Buster!... An' for that Cap +Folsom it's been ten years comin'.... I'm goin' to shoot you in the +belly an' watch you get sick to your stomach!"</p> +<p>Belllounds, with whisper, and hands, and face, begged for his +life in an abjectness of sheer panic.</p> +<p>"What!" roared the hunter. "Didn't you know I come to kill +you?"</p> +<p>"Yes--yes! I've seen--that. It's awful!... I never harmed +you.... Don't kill me! Let me live, Wade. I swear to God I'll--I'll +never do it again.... For dad's sake--for Collie's sake--don't kill +me!"</p> +<p>"I'm Hell-Bent Wade!... You wouldn't listen to them--when they +wanted to tell you who I am!"</p> +<p>Every word of Wade's drove home to this boy the primal meaning +of sudden death. It inspired him with an unutterable fear. That was +what clamped his brow in a sweaty band and upreared his hair and +rolled his eyeballs. His magnified intelligence, almost ghastly, +grasped a hope in Wade's apparent vacillation and in the utterance +of the name of Columbine. Intuition, a subtle sense, inspired him +to beg in that name.</p> +<p>"Swear you'll give up Collie!" demanded Wade, brandishing his +guns with bloody hands.</p> +<p>"Yes--yes! My God, I'll do anything!" moaned Belllounds.</p> +<p>"Swear you'll tell your father you'd had a change of heart. +You'll give Collie up!... Let Moore have her!"</p> +<p>"I swear!... But if you tell dad--I stole his cattle--he'll do +for me!"</p> +<p>"We won't squeal that. I'll save you if you give up the girl. +Once more, Buster Jack--try an' make me believe you'll square the +deal."</p> +<p>Belllounds had lost his voice. But his mute, fluttering lips +were infinite proof of the vow he could not speak. The boyishness, +the stunted moral force, replaced the manhood in him then. He was +only a factor in the lives of others, protected even from this +Nemesis by the greatness of his father's love.</p> +<p>"Get up, an' take my scarf," said Wade, "an' bandage these +bullet-holes I got."</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII</h2> +<p>Wade's wounds were not in any way serious, and with Belllounds's +assistance he got to the cabin of Lewis, where weakness from loss +of blood made it necessary that he remain. Belllounds went +home.</p> +<p>The next day Wade sent Lewis with pack-horse down to the +rustler's cabin, to bury the dead men and fetch back their effects. +Lewis returned that night, accompanied by Sheriff Burley and two +deputies, who had been busy on their own account. They had followed +horse tracks from the water-hole under Gore Peak to the scene of +the fight, and had arrived to find Lewis there. Burley had +appropriated the considerable amount of gold, which he said could +be identified by cattlemen who had bought the stolen cattle.</p> +<p>When opportunity afforded Burley took advantage of it to speak +to Wade when the others were out of earshot.</p> +<p>"Thar was another man in thet cabin when the fight come off," +announced the sheriff. "An' he come up hyar with you."</p> +<p>"Jim, you're locoed," replied Wade.</p> +<p>The sheriff laughed, and his shrewd eyes had a kindly, curious +gleam.</p> +<p>"Next you'll be givin' me a hunch thet you're in a fever an' out +of your head."</p> +<p>"Jim, I'm not as clear-headed as I might be."</p> +<p>"Wal, tell me or not, jest as you like. I seen his +tracks--follered them. An' Wade, old pard, I've reckoned long ago +thar's a nigger in the wood-pile."</p> +<p>"Sure. An' you know me. I'd take it friendly of you to put +Moore's trial off fer a while--till I'm able to ride to Krernmlin'. +Maybe then I can tell you a story."</p> +<p>Burley threw up his hands in genuine apprehension. "Not much! +You ain't agoin' to tell <i>me</i> no story!... But I'll wait on +you, an' welcome. Reckon I owe you a good deal on this rustler +round-up. Wade, thet must have been a man-sized fight, even fer +you. I picked up twenty-six empty shells. An' the little half-breed +had one empty shell an' five loaded ones in his gun. You must have +got him quick. Hey?"</p> +<p>"Jim, I'm observin' you're a heap more curious than ever, an' +you always was an inquisitive cuss," complained Wade. "I don't +recollect what happened."</p> +<p>"Wal, wal, have it your own way," replied Burley, with good +nature. "Now, Wade, I'll pitch camp hyar in the park to-night, an' +to-morrer I'll ride down to White Slides on my way to Kremmlin'. +What're you wantin' me to tell Belllounds?"</p> +<p>The hunter pondered a moment.</p> +<p>"Reckon it's just as well that you tell him somethin'.... You +can say the rustlers are done for an' that he'll get his stock +back. I'd like you to tell him that the rustlers were more to blame +than Wils Moore. Just say that an' nothin' else about Wils. Don't +mention about your suspectin' there was another man around when the +fight come off.... Tell the cowboys that I'll be down in a few +days. An' if you happen to get a chance for a word alone with Miss +Collie, just say I'm not bad hurt an' that all will be well."</p> +<p>"Ahuh!" Burley grunted out the familiar exclamation. He did not +say any more then, but he gazed thoughtfully down upon the pale +hunter, as if that strange individual was one infinitely to +respect, but never to comprehend.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>Wade's wounds healed quickly; nevertheless, it was more than +several days before he felt spirit enough to undertake the ride. He +had to return to White Slides, but he was reluctant to do so. +Memory of Jack Belllounds dragged at him, and when he drove it away +it continually returned. This feeling was almost equivalent to an +augmentation of his gloomy foreboding, which ever hovered on the +fringe of his consciousness. But one morning he started early, and, +riding very slowly, with many rests, he reached the Sage Valley +cabin before sunset. Moore saw him coming, yelled his delight and +concern, and almost lifted him off the horse. Wade was too tired to +talk much, but he allowed himself to be fed and put to bed and +worked over.</p> +<p>"Boot's on the other foot now, pard," said Moore, with delight +at the prospect of returning service. "Say, you're all shot up! And +it's I who'll be nurse!"</p> +<p>"Wils, I'll be around to-morrow," replied the hunter. "Have you +heard any news from down below?"</p> +<p>"Sure. I've met Lem every night."</p> +<p>Then he related Burley's version of Wade's fight with the +rustlers in the cabin. From the sheriff's lips the story gained +much. Old Bill Belllounds had received the news in a singular mood; +he offered no encomiums to the victor; contrary to his usual custom +of lauding every achievement of labor or endurance, he now seemed +almost to regret the affray. Jack Belllounds had returned from +Kremmling and he was present when Burley brought news of the +rustlers. What he thought none of the cowboys vouchsafed to say, +but he was drunk the next day, and he lost a handful of gold to +them. Never had he gambled so recklessly. Indeed, it was as if he +hated the gold he lost. Little had been seen of Columbine, but +little was sufficient to make the cowboys feel concern.</p> +<p>Wade made scarcely any comment upon this news from the ranch; +next day, however, he was up, and caring for himself, and he told +Moore about the fight and how he had terrorized Belllounds and +exhorted the promises from him.</p> +<p>"Never in God's world will Buster Jack live up to those +promises!" cried Moore, with absolute conviction. "I know him, Ben. +He meant them when he made them. He'd swear his soul away--then +next day he'd lie or forget or betray."</p> +<p>"I'm not believin' that till I know," replied the hunter, +gloomily. "But I'm afraid of him.... I've known bad men to change. +There's a grain of good in all men--somethin' divine. An' it comes +out now an' then. Men rise on steppin'-stones of their dead selves +to higher things!... This is Belllounds's chance for the good in +him. If it's not there he will do as you say. If it is--that scare +he had will be the turnin'-point in his life. I'm hopin', but I'm +afraid."</p> +<p>"Ben, you wait and see," said Moore, earnestly. "Heaven knows +I'm not one to lose hope for my fellowmen--hope for the higher +things you've taught me.... But human nature is human nature. Jack +<i>can't</i> give Collie up, just the same as I <i>can't</i>. +That's self-preservation as well as love."</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>The day came when Wade walked down to White Slides. There seemed +to be a fever in his blood, which he tried to convince himself was +a result of his wounds instead of the condition of his mind. It was +Sunday, a day of sunshine and squall, of azure-blue sky, and great, +sailing, purple clouds. The sage of the hills glistened and there +was a sweetness in the air.</p> +<p>The cowboys made much of Wade. But the old rancher, seeing him +from the porch, abruptly went into the house. No one but Wade +noticed this omission of courtesy. Directly, Columbine appeared, +waving her hand, and running to meet him.</p> +<p>"Dad saw you. He told me to come out and excuse him.... Oh, Ben, +I'm so happy to see you! You don't look hurt at all. What a fight +you had!... Oh, I was sick! But let me forget that.... How are you? +And how's Wils?"</p> +<p>Thus she babbled until out of breath.</p> +<p>"Collie, it's sure good to see you," said Wade, feeling the old, +rich thrill at her presence. "I'm comin' on tolerable well. I +wasn't bad hurt, but I bled a lot. An' I reckon I'm older 'n I was +when packin' gun-shot holes was nothin'. Every year tells. Only a +man doesn't know till after.... An' how are you, Collie?"</p> +<p>Her blue eyes clouded, and a tremor changed the expression of +her sweet lips.</p> +<p>"I am unhappy, Ben," she said. "But what could we expect? It +might be worse. For instance, you might have been killed. I've much +to be thankful for."</p> +<p>"I reckon so. We all have.... I fetched a message from Wils, but +I oughtn't tell it."</p> +<p>"Please do," she begged, wistfully.</p> +<p>"Well, Wils says, tell Collie I love her every day more an' +more, an' that my love keeps up my courage an' my belief in God, +an' if she ever marries Jack Belllounds she can come up to visit my +grave among the columbines on the hill."</p> +<p>Strange how Wade experienced comfort in thus torturing her! She +was rosy at the beginning of his speech and white at its close. +"Oh, it's true! it's true!" she whispered. "It'll kill him, as it +will me!"</p> +<p>"Cheer up, Columbine," said Wade. "It's a long time till August +thirteenth.... An' now tell me, why did Old Bill run when he saw me +comin'?"</p> +<p>"Ben, I suspect dad has the queerest notion you want to tell him +some awful bloody story about the rustlers."</p> +<p>"Ahuh! Well, not yet.... An' how's Jack Belllounds actin' these +days?"</p> +<p>Wade felt the momentousness of that query, but it seemed her +face had been telltale enough, without confirmation of words.</p> +<p>"My friend, somehow I hate to tell you. You're always so +hopeful, so ready to think good instead of evil.... But Jack has +been rough with me, almost brutal. He was drunk once. Every day he +drinks, sometimes a little, sometimes more. But drink changes him. +And it's dragging dad down. Dad doesn't say so, yet I feel he's +afraid of what will come next.... Jack has nagged me to marry him +right off. He wanted to the day he came back from Kremmling. He's +eager to leave White Slides. Dad knows that, also, and it worries +him. But of course I refused."</p> +<p>The presence of Columbine, so vivid and sweet and stirring, and +all about her the sunlight, the golden gleams on the sage hills, +and Wade's heart and brain and spirit sustained a subtle +transformation. It was as if what had been beautiful with light had +suddenly, strangely darkened. Then Wade imagined he stood alone in +a gloomy house, which was his own heart, and he was listening to +the arrival of a tragic messenger whose foot sounded heavy on the +stairs, whose hand turned slowly upon the knob, whose gray presence +opened the door and crossed the threshold.</p> +<p>"Buster Jack didn't break off with you, Collie?" asked the +hunter.</p> +<p>"Break off with me!... No, indeed! Whatever possessed you to say +that?"</p> +<p>"An' he didn't offer to give you up to Wils Moore?"</p> +<p>"Ben, are you crazy?" cried Columbine.</p> +<p>"Collie; listen. I'll tell you." The old urge knocked at Wade's +mind. "Buster Jack was in the cabin, gamblin' with the rustlers, +when I cornered them. You remember I meant to scare Buster Jack +within an inch of his life? Well, I made use of my opportunity. I +worked up the rustlers. Then I told Jack I'd give away his secret. +He made to jump an' run, I reckon. But he hadn't the nerve. I shot +a piece out of his ear, just to begin the fun. An' then I told the +rustlers how Jack had double-crossed them. Folsom, the boss +rustler, roared like a mad steer. He was wild to kill Jack. He +begged for a gun to shoot out Jack's eyes. An' so were the other +rustlers burnin' to kill him. Bad outfit. There was a fight, which, +I'm bound to confess, was not short an' sweet. There was a lot of +shootin'. An' in a cabin gun-shots almost lift the roof. Folsom was +on his knees, dyin', wavin' his gun, whisperin' in fiendish glee +that he had done for me. When he saw Jack an' remembered he shook +so with fury that he scattered blood all over. An' he took long aim +at Jack, tryin' to steady his gun. He couldn't, an' he missed, an' +then fell over dead with his head on Jack's knees. That left the +red-bearded rustler, who had hid behind the chimney. Jack watched +the rest of that fight, an' for a youngster it must have been +nerve-rackin'. I broke the rustler's arm, an' then his knee, an' +then I got him in the hip two more times before he hobbled out to +his finish. He'd shot me up considerable, so that when I braced +Jack I must have been a hair-raisin' sight. I made Jack believe I +meant to murder him. He begged an' cried, an' he got to prayin' for +his life for your sake. It was sickenin', but it was what I wanted. +So then I made him swear he'd free you an' give you up to +Moore."</p> +<p>"Oh! Oh, Ben, how awful!" whispered Columbine, shuddering. "How +<i>could</i> you tell me such a horrible story?"</p> +<p>"Reckon I wanted you to know how Jack come to make the promises +an' what they were."</p> +<p>"Promises! What are promises or oaths to Jack Belllounds?" she +cried, in passionate contempt. "You wasted your breath. +Coward--liar that he is!"</p> +<p>"Ahuh!" Wade looked straight ahead of him as if he saw some +expected and unpleasant thing far in the distance. Then with +irresistible steps, neither swift nor slow, but ponderous, he +strode to the porch and mounted the steps.</p> +<p>"Why, Ben, where are you going?" called Columbine, in surprise, +as she followed him.</p> +<p>He did not answer. He approached the closed door of the +living-room.</p> +<p>"Ben!" cried Columbine, in alarm.</p> +<p>But he had no reply for her--indeed, no thought of her. Without +knocking, he opened the door with rude and powerful hand, and, +striding in, closed it after him.</p> +<p>Bill Belllounds was standing, back against the great stone +chimney, arms folded, a stolid and grim figure, apparently +fortified against an intrusion he had expected.</p> +<p>"Wal, what do you want?" he asked, gruffly. He had sensed +catastrophe in the first sight of the hunter.</p> +<p>"Belllounds, I reckon I want a hell of a lot," replied Wade. +"An' I'm askin' you to see we're not disturbed."</p> +<p>"Bar the door."</p> +<p>Wade dropped the bar in place, and then, removing his sombrero, +he wiped his moist brow.</p> +<p>"Do you see an enemy in me?" he asked, curiously.</p> +<p>"Speakin' out fair, Wade, there ain't any reason I can see that +you're an enemy to me," replied Belllounds. "But I feel somethin'. +It ain't because I'm takin' my son's side. It's more than that. A +queer feelin', an' one I never had before. I got it first when you +told the story of the Gunnison feud."</p> +<p>"Belllounds, we can't escape our fates. An' it was written long +ago I was to tell you a worse an' harder story than that."</p> +<p>"Wal, mebbe I'll listen an' mebbe I won't. I ain't promisin', +these days."</p> +<p>"Are you goin' to make Collie marry Jack?" demanded the +hunter.</p> +<p>"She's willin'."</p> +<p>"You know that's not true. Collie's willin' to sacrifice love, +honor, an' life itself, to square her debt to you."</p> +<p>The old rancher flushed a burning red, and in his eyes flared a +spirit of earlier years.</p> +<p>"Wade, you can go too far," he warned. "I'm appreciatin' your +good-heartedness. It sort of warms me toward you.... But this is my +business. You've no call to interfere. You've done that too much +already. An' I'm reckonin' Collie would be married to Jack now if +it hadn't been for you."</p> +<p>"Ahuh!... That's why I'm thankin' God I happened along to White +Slides. Belllounds, your big mistake is thinkin' your son is good +enough for this girl. An' you're makin' mistakes about me. I've +interfered here, an' you may take my word for it I had the +right."</p> +<p>"Strange talk, Wade, but I'll make allowances."</p> +<p>"You needn't. I'll back my talk.... But, first, I'm askin' +you--an' if this talk hurts, I'm sorry--why don't you give some of +your love for your no-good Buster Jack to Collie?"</p> +<p>Belllounds clenched his huge fists and glared. Anger leaped +within him. He recognized in Wade an outspoken, bitter adversary to +his cherished hopes for his son and his stubborn, precious +pride.</p> +<p>"By Heaven! Wade, I'll--"</p> +<p>"Belllounds, I can make you swallow that kind of talk," +interrupted Wade. "It's man to man now. An' I'm a match for you any +day. Savvy?... Do you think I'm damn fool enough to come here an' +brace you unless I knew that. Talk to me as you'd talk about some +other man's son."</p> +<p>"It ain't possible," rejoined the rancher, stridently.</p> +<p>"Then listen to me first.... Your son Jack, to say the least, +will ruin Collie. Do you see that?"</p> +<p>"By Gawd! I'm afraid so," groaned Belllounds, big in his +humiliation. "But it's my one last bet, an' I'm goin' to play +it."</p> +<p>"Do you know marryin' him will <i>kill</i> her?"</p> +<p>"What!... You're overdoin' your fears, Wade. Women don't die so +easy."</p> +<p>"Some of them die, an' Collie's one that will, <i>if</i> she +ever marries Jack."</p> +<p>"<i>If</i>!... Wal, she's goin' to."</p> +<p>"We don't agree," said Wade, curtly.</p> +<p>"Are you runnin' my family?"</p> +<p>"No. But I'm runnin' a large-sized <i>if</i> in this game. +You'll admit that presently.... Belllounds, you make me mad. You +don't meet me man to man. You're not the Bill Belllounds of old. +Why, all over this state of Colorado you're known as the whitest of +the white. Your name's a byword for all that's square an' big an' +splendid. But you're so blinded by your worship of that wild boy +that you're another man in all pertainin' to him. I don't want to +harp on his short-comm's. I'm for the girl. She doesn't love him. +She can't. She will only drag herself down an' die of a broken +heart.... Now, I'm askin' you, before it's too late--give up this +marriage."</p> +<p>"Wade! I've shot men for less than you've said!" thundered the +rancher, beside himself with rage and shame.</p> +<p>"Ahuh! I reckon you have. But not men like me.... I tell you, +straight to your face, it's a fool deal you're workin'--a damn +selfish one--a dirty job, to put on an innocent, sweet girl--an' as +sure as you stand there, if you do it, you'll ruin four lives!"</p> +<p>"Four!" exclaimed Belllounds. But any word would have expressed +his humiliation.</p> +<p>"I should have said three, leavin' Jack out. I meant Collie's +an' yours an' Wils Moore's."</p> +<p>"Moore's is about ruined already, I've a hunch."</p> +<p>"You can get hunches you never dreamed of, Belllounds, old as +you are. An' I'll give you one presently.... But we drift off. +Can't you keep cool?"</p> +<p>"Cool! With you rantin' hell-bent for election? Haw! Raw!... +Wade, you're locoed. You always struck me queer.... An' if you'll +excuse me, I'm gettin' tired of this talk. We're as far apart as +the poles. An' to save what good feelin's we both have, let's +quit."</p> +<p>"You don't love Collie, then?" queried Wade, imperturbably.</p> +<p>"Yes, I do. That's a fool idee of yours. It puts me out of +patience."</p> +<p>"Belllounds, you're not her real father."</p> +<p>The rancher gave a start, and he stared as he had stared before, +fixedly and perplexedly at Wade.</p> +<p>"No, I'm not."</p> +<p>"If she <i>were</i> your real daughter--your own flesh an' +blood--an' Jack Belllounds was <i>my</i> son, would you let her +marry him?"</p> +<p>"Wal, Wade, I reckon I wouldn't."</p> +<p>"Then how can you expect my consent to her marriage with your +son?"</p> +<p>"WHAT!" Belllounds lunged over to Wade, leaned down, shaken by +overwhelming amaze.</p> +<p>"Collie is my daughter!"</p> +<p>A loud expulsion of breath escaped Belllounds. Lower he leaned, +and looked with piercing gaze into the face and eyes that in this +moment bore strange resemblance to Columbine.</p> +<p>"So help me Gawd!... That's the secret?... Hell-Bent Wade! An' +you've been on my trail!"</p> +<p>He staggered to his big chair and fell into it. No trace of +doubt showed in his face. The revelation had struck home because of +its very greatness.</p> +<p>Wade took the chair opposite. His likeness to Columbine had +faded now. It had been love, a spirit, a radiance, a glory. It was +gone. And Wade's face became the emblem of tragedy.</p> +<p>"Listen, Belllounds. I'll tell you!... The ways of God are +inscrutable. I've been twenty years tryin' to atone for the wrong I +did Collie's mother. I've been a prospector for the trouble of +others. I've been a bearer of their burdens. An' if I can save +Collie's happiness an' her soul, I reckon I won't be denied the +peace of meetin' her mother in the other world.... I recognized +Collie the moment I laid eyes on her. She favors her mother in +looks, an' she has her mother's sensitiveness, her fire an' pride, +an' she even has her voice. It's low an' sweet--alto, they used to +call it.... But I'd recognized Collie as my own if I'd been blind +an' deaf.... It's over eighteen years ago that we had the trouble. +I was no boy, but I was terribly in love with Lucy. An' she loved +me with a passion I never learned till too late. We came West from +Missouri. She was born in Texas. I had a rovin' disposition an' +didn't stick long at any kind of work. But I was lookin' for a +ranch. My wife had some money an' I had high hopes. We spent our +first year of married life travelin' through Kansas. At Dodge I got +tied up for a while. You know, in them days Dodge was about the +wildest camp on the plains. My wife's brother run a place there. He +wasn't much good. But she thought he was perfect. Strange how +blood-relations can't see the truth about their own people! Anyway, +her brother Spencer had no use for me, because I could tell how +slick he was with the cards an' beat him at his own game. Spencer +had a gamblin' pard, a cowboy run out of Texas, one Cap Fol--But no +matter about his name. One night they were fleecin' a stranger an' +I broke into the game, winnin' all they had. The game ended in a +fight, with bloodshed, but nobody killed. That set Spencer an' his +pard Cap against me. The stranger was a planter from Louisiana. +He'd been an officer in the rebel army. A high-strung, handsome +Southerner, fond of wine an' cards an' women. Well, he got to +payin' my wife a good deal of attention when I was away, which +happened to be often. She never told me. I was jealous those +days.</p> +<p>"My little girl you call Columbine was born there durin' a long +absence of mine. When I got home Lucy an' the baby were gone. Also +the Southerner!... Spencer an' his pard Cap, an' others they had in +the deal, proved to me, so it seemed, that the little girl was not +really mine!... An' so I set out on a hunt for my wife an' her +lover. I found them. An' I killed him before her eyes. But she was +innocent, an' so was he, as came out too late. He'd been, indeed, +her friend. She scorned me. She told me how her brother Spencer an' +his friends had established guilt of mine that had driven her from +me.</p> +<p>"I went back to Dodge to have a little quiet smoke with these +men who had ruined me. They were gone. The trail led to Colorado. +Nearly a year later I rounded them all up in a big wagon-train post +north of Denver. Another brother of my wife's, an' her father, had +come West, an' by accident or fate we all met there. We had a +family quarrel. My wife would not forgive me--would not speak to +me, an' her people backed her up. I made the great mistake to take +her father an' other brothers to belong to the same brand as +Spencer. In this I wronged them an' her.</p> +<p>"What I did to them, Belllounds, is one story I'll never tell to +any man who might live to repeat it. But it drove my wife near +crazy. An' it made me Hell-Bent Wade!... She ran off from me there, +an' I trailed her all over Colorado. An' the end of that trail was +not a hundred miles from where we stand now. The last trace I had +was of the burnin' of a prairie-schooner by Arapahoes as they were +goin' home from a foray on the Utes.... The little girl might have +toddled off the trail. But I reckon she was hidden or dropped by +her mother, or some one fleein' for life. Your men found her in the +columbines."</p> +<p>Belllounds drew a long, deep breath.</p> +<p>"What a man never expects always comes true.... Wade, the lass +is yours. I can see it in the way you look at me. I can feel it.... +She's been like my own. I've done my best, accordin' to my +conscience. An' I've loved her, for all they say I couldn't see +aught but Jack.... You'll take her away from me?"</p> +<p>"No. Never," was the melancholy reply.</p> +<p>"What! Why not?"</p> +<p>"Because she loves you.... I could never reveal myself to +Collie. I couldn't win her love with a lie. An' I'd have to lie, to +be false as hell.... False to her mother an' to Collie an' to all I +hold high! I'd have to tell Collie the truth--the wrong I did her +mother--the <i>hell</i> I visited upon her mother's people.... +She'd fear me."</p> +<p>"Ahuh!... An' you'll never change--I reckon that!" exclaimed +Belllounds.</p> +<p>"No. I changed once, eighteen years ago. I can't go back.... I +can't undo all I hoped was good."</p> +<p>"You think Collie'd fear you?"</p> +<p>"She'd never <i>love</i> me as she does you, or as she loves me +even now. That is my rock of refuge."</p> +<p>"She'd hate you, Wade."</p> +<p>"I reckon. An' so she must never know."</p> +<p>"Ahuh!... Wal, wal, life is a hell of a deal! Wade, if you could +live yours over again, knowin' what you know now, an' that you'd +love an' suffer the same--would you want to do it?"</p> +<p>"Yes. I love life, with all it brings. I wouldn't have the joy +without the pain. But I reckon only men who've come to our years +would want it over again."</p> +<p>"Wal, I'm with you thar. I'd take what came. Rain an' sun!... +But all this you tell, an' the hell you hint at, ain't changin' +this hyar deal of Jack's an' Collie's. Not one jot!... If she +remains my adopted daughter she marries my son.... Wade, I'm +haltered like the north star in that."</p> +<p>"Belllounds, will you take a day to think it over?" appealed +Wade.</p> +<p>"Ahuh! But that won't change me."</p> +<p>"Won't it change you to know that if you force this marriage +you'll lose all?"</p> +<p>"All! Ain't that more queer talk?"</p> +<p>"I mean lose all--your son, your adopted daughter--his chance of +reformin', her hope of happiness. These ought to be all in life +left to you."</p> +<p>"Wal, they are. But I can't see your argument. You're beyond me, +Wade. You're holdin' back, like you did with your hell-bent +story."</p> +<p>Ponderously, as if the burden and the doom of the world weighed +him down, the hunter got up and fronted Belllounds.</p> +<p>"When I'm driven to tell I'll come.... But, once more, old man, +choose between generosity an' selfishness. Between blood tie an' +noble loyalty to your good deed in its beginnin'.... Will you give +up this marriage for your son--so that Collie can have the man she +loves?"</p> +<p>"You mean your young pard an' two-bit of a rustler--Wils +Moore?"</p> +<p>"Wils Moore, yes. My friend, an' a man, Belllounds, such as you +or I never was."</p> +<p>"No!" thundered the rancher, purple in the face.</p> +<p>With bowed head and dragging step Wade left the room.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>By slow degrees of plodding steps, and periods of abstracted +lagging, the hunter made his way back to Moore's cabin. At his +entrance the cowboy leaped up with a startled cry.</p> +<p>"Oh, Wade!... Is Collie dead?" he cried.</p> +<p>Such was the extent of calamity he imagined from the somber face +of Wade.</p> +<p>"No. Collie's well."</p> +<p>"Then, man, what on earth's happened?"</p> +<p>"Nothin' yet.... But somethin' is goin' on in my mind.... Moore, +I'd like you to let me alone."</p> +<p>At sunset Wade was pacing the aspen grove on the hill. There was +sunlight and shade under the trees, a rosy gold on the sage slopes, +a purple-and-violet veil between the black ranges and the sinking +sun.</p> +<p>Twilight fell. The stars came out white and clear. Night cloaked +the valley with dark shadows and the hills with its obscurity. The +blue vault overhead deepened and darkened. The hunter patrolled his +beat, and hours were moments to him. He heard the low hum of the +insects, the murmur of running water, the rustle of the wind. A +coyote cut the keen air with high-keyed, staccato cry. The owls +hooted, with dismal and weird plaint, one to the other. Then a wolf +mourned. But these sounds only accentuated the loneliness and +wildness of the silent night.</p> +<p>Wade listened to them, to the silence. He felt the wildness and +loneliness of the place, the breathing of nature; he peered aloft +at the velvet blue of the mysterious sky with its deceiving stars. +All that had been of help to him through days of trial was now as +if it had never been. When he lifted his eyes to the great, dark +peak, so bold and clear-cut against the sky, it was not to receive +strength again. Nature in its cruelty mocked him. His struggle had +to do with the most perfect of nature's works--man.</p> +<p>Wade was now in passionate strife with the encroaching mood that +was a mocker of his idealism. Many times during the strange, long +martyrdom of his penance had he faced this crisis, only to go down +to defeat before elemental instincts. His soul was steeped in +gloom, but his intelligence had not yet succumbed to passion. The +beauty of Columbine's character and the nobility of Moore's were +not illusions to Wade. They were true. These two were of the finest +fiber of human nature. They loved. They represented youth and +hope--a progress through the ages toward a better race. Wade +believed in the good to be, in the future of men. Nevertheless, all +that was fine and worthy in Columbine and Moore was to go +unrewarded, unfulfilled, because of the selfish pride of an old man +and the evil passion of the son. It was a conflict as old as life. +Of what avail were Columbine's high sense of duty, Moore's fine +manhood, the many victories they had won over the headlong and +imperious desires of love? What avail were Wade's good offices, his +spiritual teaching, his eternal hope in the order of circumstances +working out to good? These beautiful characteristics of virtue were +not so strong as the unchangeable passion of old Belllounds and the +vicious depravity of his son. Wade could not imagine himself a god, +proving that the wages of sin was death. Yet in his life he had +often been an impassive destiny, meting out terrible consequences. +Here he was incalculably involved. This was the cumulative end of +years of mounting plots, tangled and woven into the web of his pain +and his remorse and his ideal. But hope was dying. That was his +strife-realization against the morbid clairvoyance of his mind. He +could not help Jack Belllounds to be a better man. He could not +inspire the old rancher to a forgetfulness of selfish and blinded +aims. He could not prove to Moore the truth of the reward that came +from unflagging hope and unassailable virtue. He could not save +Columbine with his ideals.</p> +<p>The night wore on, and Wade plodded under the rustling aspens. +The insects ceased to hum, the owls to hoot, the wolves to mourn. +The shadows of the long spruces gradually merged into the darkness +of night. Above, infinitely high, burned the pale stars, wise and +cold, aloof and indifferent, eyes of other worlds of mystery.</p> +<p>In those night hours something in Wade died, but his idealism, +unquenchable and inexplicable, the very soul of the man, saw its +justification and fulfilment in the distant future.</p> +<p>The gray of the dawn stole over the eastern range, and before +its opaque gloom the blackness of night retreated, until valley and +slope and grove were shrouded in spectral light, where all seemed +unreal.</p> +<p>And with it the gray-gloomed giant of Wade's mind, the morbid +and brooding spell, had gained its long-encroaching ascendancy. He +had again found the man to whom he must tell his story. Tragic and +irrevocable decree! It was his life that forced him, his crime, his +remorse, his agony, his endless striving. How true had been his +steps! They had led, by devious and tortuous paths, to the home of +his daughter.</p> +<p>Wade crouched under the aspens, accepting this burden as a man +being physically loaded with tremendous weights. His shoulders bent +to them. His breast was sunken and labored. All his muscles were +cramped. His blood flowed sluggishly. His heart beat with slow, +muffled throbs in his ears. There was a creeping cold in his veins, +ice in his marrow, and death in his soul. The giant that had been +shrouded in gray threw off his cloak, to stand revealed, black and +terrible. And it was he who spoke to Wade, in dreadful tones, like +knells. Bent Wade--man of misery--who could find no peace on +earth--whose presence unknit the tranquil lives of people and +poisoned their blood and marked them for doom! Wherever he wandered +there followed the curse! Always this had been so. He was the +harbinger of catastrophe. He who preached wisdom and claimed to be +taught by the flowers, who loved life and hated injustice, who +mingled with his kind, ever searching for that one who needed him, +he must become the woe and the bane and curse of those he would +only serve! Insupportable and pitiful fate! The fiends of the past +mocked him, like wicked ghouls, voiceless and dim. The faces of the +men he had killed were around him in the gray gloom, pale, drifting +visages of distortion, accusing him, claiming him. Likewise, these +gleams of faces were specters of his mind, a procession eternal, +mournful, and silent, wending their way on and on through the +regions of his thought. All were united, all drove him, all put him +on the trail of catastrophe. They foreshadowed the future, they +inclosed events, they lured him with his endless illusions. He was +in the vortex of a vast whirlpool, not of water or of wind, but of +life. Alas! he seemed indeed the very current of that whirlpool, a +monstrous force, around which evil circled and lurked and +conquered. Wade--who had the ill-omened croak of the +raven--Wade--who bent his driven steps toward hell!</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>In the brilliant sunlight of the summer morning Wade bent his +resistless steps down toward White Slides Ranch. The pendulum had +swung. The hours were propitious. Seemingly, events that already +cast their shadows waited for him. He saw Jack Belllounds going out +on the fast and furious ride which had become his morning +habit.</p> +<p>Columbine intercepted Wade. The shade of woe and tragedy in her +face were the same as he had pictured there in his gloomy vigil of +the night.</p> +<p>"My friend, I was coming to you.... Oh, I can bear no more!"</p> +<p>Her hair was disheveled, her dress disordered, the hands she +tremblingly held out bore discolored marks. Wade led her into the +seclusion of the willow trail.</p> +<p>"Oh, Ben!... He fought me--like--a beast!" she panted.</p> +<p>"Collie, you needn't tell me more," said Wade, gently. "Go up to +Wils. Tell him."</p> +<p>"But I must tell you. I can bear--no more.... He fought me--hurt +me--and when dad heard us--and came--Jack lied.... Oh, the dog!... +Ben, his father believed--when Jack swore he was only mad--only +trying to shake me--for my indifference and scorn.... But, my +God!--Jack meant...."</p> +<p>"Collie, go up to Wils," interposed the hunter.</p> +<p>"I want to see Wils. I need to--I must. But I'm afraid.... Oh, +it will make things worse!"</p> +<p>"Go!"</p> +<p>She turned away, actuated by more than her will.</p> +<p>"<i>Collie!</i>" came the call, piercingly and strangely after +her. Bewildered, startled by the wildness of that cry, she wheeled. +But Wade was gone. The shaking of the willows attested to his +hurry.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>Old Belllounds braced his huge shoulders against the wall in the +attitude of a man driven to his last stand.</p> +<p>"Ahuh!" he rolled, sonorously. "So hyar you are again?... Wal, +tell your worst, Hell-Bent Wade, an' let's have an end to your +croakin'."</p> +<p>Belllounds had fortified himself, not with convictions or with +illusions, but with the last desperate courage of a man true to +himself.</p> +<p>"I'll tell you...." began the hunter.</p> +<p>And the rancher threw up his hands in a mockery that was +furious, yet with outward shrinking.</p> +<p>"Just now, when Buster Jack fought with Collie, he meant bad by +her!"</p> +<p>"Aw, no!... He was jest rude--tryin' to be masterful.... An' the +lass's like a wild filly. She needs a tamin' down."</p> +<p>Wade stretched forth a lean and quivering hand that seemed the +symbol of presaged and tragic truth.</p> +<p>"Listen, Belllounds, an' I'll tell you.... No use tryin' to +hatch a rotten egg! There's no good in your son. His good +intentions he paraded for virtues, believin' himself that he'd +changed. But a flip of the wind made him Buster Jack again.... +Collie would sacrifice her life for duty to you--whom she loves as +her father. Wils Moore sacrificed his honor for Collie--rather than +let you learn the truth.... But they call me Hell-Bent Wade, an' I +will tell you!"</p> +<p>The straining hulk of Belllounds crouched lower, as if to gather +impetus for a leap. Both huge hands were outspread as if to ward +off attack from an unseen but long-dreaded foe. The great eyes +rolled. And underneath the terror and certainty and tragedy of his +appearance seemed to surge the resistless and rising swell of a +dammed-up, terrible rage.</p> +<p>"I'll tell you ..." went on the remorseless voice. "I watched +your Buster Jack. I watched him gamble an' drink. I trailed him. I +found the little circles an' the crooked horse tracks--made to trap +Wils Moore.... A damned cunnin' trick!... Burley suspects a nigger +in the wood-pile. Wils Moore knows the truth. He lied for Collie's +sake an' yours. He'd have stood the trial--an' gone to jail to save +Collie from what she dreaded.... Belllounds, your son was in the +cabin gamblin' with the rustlers when I cornered them.... I offered +to keep Jack's secret if he'd swear to give Collie up. He swore on +his knees, beggin' in her name!... An' he comes back to bully her, +an' worse.... Buster Jack!... He's the thorn in your heart, +Belllounds. He's the rustler who stole your cattle!... Your pet +son--a sneakin' thief!"</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX</h2> +<br> +<p>Jack Belllounds came riding down the valley trail. His horse was +in a lather of sweat. Both hair and blood showed on the long spurs +this son of a great pioneer used in his pleasure rides. He had +never loved a horse.</p> +<p>At a point where the trail met the brook there were thick willow +patches, with open, grassy spots between. As Belllounds reached +this place a man stepped out of the willows and laid hold of the +bridle. The horse shied and tried to plunge, but an iron arm held +him.</p> +<p>"Get down, Buster," ordered the man.</p> +<p>It was Wade.</p> +<p>Belllounds had given as sharp a start as his horse. He was +sober, though the heated red tinge of his face gave indication of a +recent use of the bottle. That color quickly receded. Events of the +last month had left traces of the hardening and lowering of Jack +Belllounds's nature.</p> +<p>"Wha-at?... Let go of that bridle!" he ejaculated.</p> +<p>Wade held it fast, while he gazed up into the prominent eyes, +where fear shone and struggled with intolerance and arrogance and +quickening gleams of thought.</p> +<p>"You an' I have somethin' to talk over," said the hunter.</p> +<p>Belllounds shrank from the low, cold, even voice, that evidently +reminded him of the last time he had heard it.</p> +<p>"No, we haven't," he declared, quickly. He seemed to gather +assurance with his spoken thought, and conscious fear left him. +"Wade, you took advantage of me that day--when you made me swear +things. I've changed my mind.... And as for that deal with the +rustlers, I've got my story. It's as good as yours. I've been +waiting for you to tell my father. You've got some reason for not +telling him. I've a hunch it's Collie. I'm on to you, and I've got +my nerve back. You can gamble I--"</p> +<p>He had grown excited when Wade interrupted him.</p> +<p>"Will you get off that horse?"</p> +<p>"No, I won't," replied Belllounds, bluntly.</p> +<p>With swift and powerful lunge Wade pulled Belllounds down, +sliding him shoulders first into the grass. The released horse +shied again and moved away. Buster Jack raised himself upon his +elbow, pale with rage and alarm. Wade kicked him, not with any +particular violence.</p> +<p>"Get up!" he ordered.</p> +<p>The kick had brought out the rage in Belllounds at the expense +of the amaze and alarm.</p> +<p>"Did you kick <i>me?</i>" he shouted.</p> +<p>"Buster, I was only handin' you a bunch of flowers--some +columbines, as your taste runs," replied Wade, contemptuously.</p> +<p>"I'll--I'll--" returned Buster Jack, wildly, bursting for +expression. His hand went to his gun.</p> +<p>"Go ahead, Buster. Throw your gun on me. That'll save maybe a +hell of a lot of talk."</p> +<p>It was then Jack Belllounds's face turned livid. Comprehension +had dawned upon him.</p> +<p>"You--you want me to fight you?" he queried, in hoarse +accents.</p> +<p>"I reckon that's what I meant."</p> +<p>No affront, no insult, no blow could have affected Buster Jack +as that sudden knowledge.</p> +<p>"Why--why--you're crazy! Me fight you--a gunman," he stammered. +"No--no. It wouldn't be fair. Not an even break!... No, I'd have no +chance on earth!"</p> +<p>"I'll give you first shot," went on Wade, in his strange, +monotonous voice.</p> +<p>"Bah! You're lying to me," replied Belllounds, with pale +grimace. "You just want me to get a gun in my hand--then you'll +drop me, and claim an even break."</p> +<p>"No. I'm square. You saw me play square with your rustler pard. +He was a lifelong enemy of mine. An' a gun-fighter to boot!... Pull +your gun an' let drive. I'll take my chances."</p> +<p>Buster Jack's eyes dilated. He gasped huskily. He pulled his +gun, but actually did not have strength or courage enough to raise +it. His arm shook so that the gun rattled against his chaps.</p> +<p>"No nerve, hey? Not half a man!... Buster Jack, why don't you +finish game? Make up for your low-down tricks. At the last try to +be worthy of your dad. In his day he was a real man.... Let him +have the consolation that you faced Hell-Bent Wade an' died in your +boots!"</p> +<p>"I--can't--fight you!" panted Belllounds. "I know now!... I saw +you throw a gun! It wouldn't be fair!"</p> +<p>"But I'll make you fight me," returned Wade, in steely tones. +"I'm givin' you a chance to dig up a little manhood. Askin' you to +meet me man to man! Handin' you a little the best of it to make the +odds even!... Once more, will you be game?"</p> +<p>"Wade, I'll not fight--I'm going--" replied Belllounds, and he +moved as if to turn.</p> +<p>"Halt!..." Wade leaped at the white Belllounds. "If you run I'll +break a leg for you--an' then I'll beat your miserable brains +out!... Have you no sense? Can't you recognize what's comin'?... +<i>I'm goin' to kill you, Buster Jack!</i>"</p> +<p>"My God!" whispered the other, understanding fully at last.</p> +<p>"Here's where you pay for your dirty work. The time comes to +every man. You've a choice, not to live--for you'll never get away +from Hell-Bent Wade--but to rise above yourself at last."</p> +<p>"But what for? Why do you want to kill me? I never harmed +you."</p> +<p>"Columbine is my daughter!" replied the hunter.</p> +<p>"Ah!" breathed Belllounds.</p> +<p>"She loves Wils Moore, who's as white a man as you are +black."</p> +<p>Across the pallid, convulsed face of Belllounds spread a slow, +dull crimson.</p> +<p>"Aha, Buster Jack! I struck home there," flashed Wade, his voice +rising. "That gives your eyes the ugly look.... I hate them lyin', +bulgin' eyes of yours. An' when my time comes to shoot I'm goin' to +put them both out."</p> +<p>"By Heaven! Wade, you'll have to kill me if you ever expect that +club-foot Moore to get Collie!"</p> +<p>"He'll get her," replied Wade, triumphantly. "Collie's with him +now. I sent her. I told her to tell Wils how you tried to force +her--"</p> +<p>Belllounds began to shake all over. A torture of jealous hate +and deadly terror convulsed him.</p> +<p>"Buster, did you ever think you'd get her kisses--as Wils's +gettin' right now?" queried the hunter. "Good Lord! the conceit of +some men!... Why, you poor, weak-minded, cowardly pet of a blinded +old man--you conceited ass--you selfish an' spoiled boy!... Collie +never had any use for you. An' now she hates you."</p> +<p>"It was you who made her!" yelled Belllounds, foaming at the +mouth.</p> +<p>"Sure," went on the deliberate voice, ringing with scorn. "An' +only a little while ago she called you a dog.... I reckon she meant +a different kind of a dog than the hounds over there. For to say +they were like you would be an insult to them.... Sure she hates +you, an' I'll gamble right now she's got her arms around Wils's +neck!"</p> +<p>"----!" hissed Belllounds.</p> +<p>"Well, you've got a gun in your hand," went on the taunting +voice. "Ahuh!... Have it your way. I'm warmin' up now, an' I'd like +to tell you ..."</p> +<p>"Shut up!" interrupted the other, frantically. The blood in him +was rising to a fever heat. But fear still clamped him. He could +not raise the gun and he seemed in agony.</p> +<p>"Your father knows you're a thief," declared Wade, with +remorseless, deliberate intent. "I told him how I watched +you--trailed you--an' learned the plot you hatched against Wils +Moore.... Buster Jack busted himself at last, stealin' his own +father's cattle.... I've seen some ragin' men in my day, but Old +Bill had them beaten. You've disgraced him--broken his +heart--embittered the end of his life.... An' he'd mean for you +what I mean now!"</p> +<p>"He'd never--harm me!" gasped Buster Jack, shuddering.</p> +<p>"He'd kill you--you white-livered pup!" cried Wade, with +terrible force. "Kill you before he'd let you go to worse +dishonor!... An' I'm goin' to save him stainin' his hands."</p> +<p>"I'll kill <i>you!</i>" burst out Belllounds, ending in a +shriek. But this was not the temper that always produced heedless +action in him. It was hate. He could not raise the gun. His +intelligence still dominated his will. Yet fury had mitigated his +terror.</p> +<p>"You'll be doin' me a service, Buster.... But you're mighty slow +at startin'. I reckon I'll have to play my last trump to make you +fight. Oh, by God! I can tell you!... Belllounds, there're dead men +callin' me now. Callin' me not to murder you in cold blood! I +killed one man once--a man who wouldn't fight--an innocent man! I +killed him with my bare hands, an' if I tell you my story--an' how +I killed him--an' that I'll do the same for you.... You'll save me +that, Buster. No man with a gun in his hands could face what he +knew.... But save me more. Save me the tellin'!"</p> +<p>"No! No! I won't listen!"</p> +<p>"Maybe I won't have to," replied Wade, mournfully. He paused, +breathing heavily. The sober calm was gone.</p> +<p>Belllounds lowered the half-raised gun, instantly answering to +the strange break in Wade's strained dominance.</p> +<p>"Don't tell me--any more! I'll not listen!... I won't fight! +Wade, you're crazy! Let me off an' I swear--"</p> +<p>"Buster, I told Collie you were three years in jail!" suddenly +interrupted Wade.</p> +<p>A mortal blow dealt Belllounds would not have caused such a +shock of amaze, of torture. The secret of the punishment meted out +to him by his father! The hideous thing which, instead of +reforming, had ruined him! All of hell was expressed in his burning +eyes.</p> +<p>"Ahuh!... I've known it long!" cried Wade, tragically. "Buster +Jack, you're the man who must hear my story.... <i>I'll tell +you</i>...."</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>In the aspen grove up the slope of Sage Valley Columbine and +Wilson were sitting on a log. Whatever had been their discourse, it +had left Moore with head bowed in his hands, and with Columbine +staring with sad eyes that did not see what they looked at. +Columbine's mind then seemed a dull blank. Suddenly she +started.</p> +<p>"Wils!" she cried. "Did you hear--anything?"</p> +<p>"No," he replied, wearily raising his head.</p> +<p>"I thought I heard a shot," said Columbine. "It--it sort of made +me jump. I'm nervous."</p> +<p>Scarcely had she finished speaking when two clear, deep +detonations rang out. Gun-shots!</p> +<p>"There!... Oh, Wils! Did you hear?"</p> +<p>"Hear!" whispered Moore. He grew singularly white. "Yes--yes!... +Collie--"</p> +<p>"Wils," she interrupted, wildly, as she began to shake. "Just a +little bit ago--I saw Jack riding down the trail!"</p> +<p>"Collie!... Those two shots came from Wade's guns I'd know it +among a thousand!... Are you sure you heard a shot before?"</p> +<p>"Oh, something dreadful has happened! Yes, I'm sure. Perfectly +sure. A shot not so loud or heavy."</p> +<p>"My God!" exclaimed Moore, staring aghast at Columbine.</p> +<p>"Maybe that's what Wade meant. I never saw through him."</p> +<p>"Tell me. Oh, I don't understand!" wailed Columbine, wringing +her hands.</p> +<p>Moore did not explain what he meant. For a crippled man, he made +quick time in getting to his horse and mounting.</p> +<p>"Collie, I'll ride down there. I'm afraid something has +happened.... I never understood him!... I forgot he was Hell-Bent +Wade! If there's been a--a fight or any trouble--I'll ride back and +meet you."</p> +<p>Then he rode down the trail.</p> +<p>Columbine had come without her horse, and she started homeward +on foot. Her steps dragged. She knew something dreadful had +happened. Her heart beat slowly and painfully; there was an +oppression upon her breast; her brain whirled with contending tides +of thought. She remembered Wade's face. How blind she had been! It +exhausted her to walk, though she went so slowly. There seemed to +be a chill and a darkening in the atmosphere, an unreality in the +familiar slopes and groves, a strangeness and shadow upon White +Slides Valley.</p> +<p>Moore did not return to meet her. His white horse grazed in the +pasture opposite the first clump of willows, where Sage Valley +merged into the larger valley. Then she saw other horses, among +them Lem Billings's bay mustang. Columbine faltered on, when +suddenly she recognized the horse Jack had ridden--a sorrel, spent +and foam-covered, standing saddled, with bridle down and +riderless--then certainty of something awful clamped her with +horror. Men's husky voices reached her throbbing ears. Some one was +running. Footsteps thudded and died away. Then she saw Lem Billings +come out of the willows, look her way, and hurry toward her. His +awkward, cowboy gait seemed too slow for his earnestness. Columbine +felt the piercing gaze of his eyes as her own became dim.</p> +<p>"Miss Collie, thar's been--turrible fight!" he panted.</p> +<p>"Oh, Lem!... I know. It was Ben--and Jack," she cried.</p> +<p>"Shore. Your hunch's correct. An' it couldn't be no wuss!"</p> +<p>Columbine tried to see his face, the meaning that must have +accompanied his hoarse voice; but she seemed going blind.</p> +<p>"Then--then--" she whispered, reaching out for Lem.</p> +<p>"Hyar, Miss Collie," he said, in great concern, as he took kind +and gentle hold of her. "Reckon you'd better wait. Let me take you +home."</p> +<p>"Yes. But tell--tell me first," she cried, frantically. She +could not bear suspense, and she felt her senses slipping away from +her.</p> +<p>"My Gawd! who'd ever have thought such hell would come to White +Slides!" exclaimed Lem, with strong emotion. "Miss Collie, I'm +powerful sorry fer you. But mebbe it's best so.... They're both +dead!... Wade just died with his head on Wils's lap. But Jack never +knowed what hit him. He was shot plumb center--both his eyes shot +out!... Wade was shot low down.... Montana an' me agreed thet Jack +throwed his gun first an' Wade killed him after bein' mortal shot +himself."</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>Late that afternoon, as Columbine lay upon her bed, the strange +stillness of the house was disturbed by a heavy tread. It passed +out of the living-room and came down the porch toward her door. +Then followed a knock.</p> +<p>"Dad!" she called, swiftly rising.</p> +<p>Belllounds entered, leaving the door ajar. The sunlight streamed +in.</p> +<p>"Wal, Collie, I see you're bracin' up," he said.</p> +<p>"Oh yes, dad, I'm--I'm all right," she replied, eager to help or +comfort him.</p> +<p>The old rancher seemed different from the man of the past +months. The pallor of a great shock, the havoc of spent passion, +the agony of terrible hours, showed in his face. But Old Bill +Belllounds had come into his own again--back to the calm, iron +pioneer who had lived all events, over whom storm of years had +broken, whose great spirit had accepted this crowning catastrophe +as it had all the others, who saw his own life clearly, now that +its bitterest lesson was told.</p> +<p>"Are you strong enough to bear another shock, my lass, an' bear +it now--so to make an end--so to-morrer we can begin anew?" he +asked, with the voice she had not heard for many a day. It was the +voice that told of consideration for her.</p> +<p>"Yes, dad," she replied, going to him.</p> +<p>"Wal, come with me. I want you to see Wade."</p> +<p>He led her out upon the porch, and thence into the living-room, +and from there into the room where lay the two dead men, one on +each side. Blankets covered the prone, quiet forms.</p> +<p>Columbine had meant to beg to see Wade once before he was laid +away forever. She dreaded the ordeal, yet strangely longed for it. +And here she was self-contained, ready for some nameless shock and +uplift, which she divined was coming as she had divined the change +in Belllounds.</p> +<p>Then he stripped back the blanket, disclosing Wade's face. +Columbine thrilled to the core of her heart. Death was there, white +and cold and merciless, but as it had released the tragic soul, the +instant of deliverance had been stamped on the rugged, cadaverous +visage, by a beautiful light; not of peace, nor of joy, nor of +grief, but of hope! Hope had been the last emotion of Hell-Bent +Wade.</p> +<p>"Collie, listen," said the old rancher, in deep and trembling +tones. "When a man's dead, what he's been comes to us with +startlin' truth. Wade was the whitest man I ever knew. He had a +queer idee--a twist in his mind--an' it was thet his steps were +bent toward hell. He imagined thet everywhere he traveled there he +fetched hell. But he was wrong. His own trouble led him to the +trouble of others. He saw through life. An' he was as big in his +hope fer the good as he was terrible in his dealin' with the bad. I +never saw his like.... He loved you, Collie, better than you ever +knew. Better than Jack, or Wils, or me! You know what the Bible +says about him who gives his life fer his friend. Wal, Wade was my +friend, an' Jack's, only we never could see!... An' he was Wils's +friend. An' to you he must have been more than words can tell.... +We all know what child's play it would have been fer Wade to kill +Jack without bein' hurt himself. But he wouldn't do it. So he +spared me an' Jack, an' I reckon himself. Somehow he made Jack +fight an' die like a man. God only knows how he did that. But it +saved me from--from hell--an' you an' Wils from misery.... Wade +could have taken you from me an' Jack. He had only to tell you his +secret, an' he wouldn't. He saw how you loved me, as if you were my +real child.... But. Collie, lass, it was <i>he</i> who was your +father!"</p> +<p>With bursting heart Columbine fell upon her knees beside that +cold, still form.</p> +<p>Belllounds softly left the room and closed the door behind +him.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX</h2> +<br> +<p>Nature was prodigal with her colors that autumn. The frosts came +late, so that the leaves did not gradually change their green. One +day, as if by magic, there was gold among the green, and in another +there was purple and red. Then the hilltops blazed with their +crowns of aspen groves; and the slopes of sage shone mellow gray in +the sunlight; and the vines on the stone fences straggled away in +lines of bronze; and the patches of ferns under the cliffs faded +fast; and the great rock slides and black-timbered reaches stood +out in their somber shades.</p> +<p>Columbines bloomed in all the dells among the spruces, beautiful +stalks with heavy blossoms, the sweetest and palest of blue-white +flowers. Motionless they lifted their faces to the light. Out in +the aspen groves, where the grass was turning gold, the columbines +blew gracefully in the wind, nodding and swaying. The most +exquisite and finest of these columbines hid in the shaded nooks, +star-sweet in the silent gloom of the woods.</p> +<p>Wade's last few whispered words to Moore had been interpreted +that the hunter desired to be buried among the columbines in the +aspen grove on the slope above Sage Valley. Here, then, had been +made his grave.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>One day Belllounds sent Columbine to fetch Moore down to White +Slides. It was a warm, Indian-summer afternoon, and the old rancher +sat out on the porch in his shirt-sleeves. His hair was white now, +but no other change was visible in him. No restraint attended his +greeting to the cowboy.</p> +<p>"Wils, I reckon I'd be glad if you'd take your old job as +foreman of White Slides," he said.</p> +<p>"Are you asking me?" queried Moore, eagerly.</p> +<p>"Wal, I reckon so."</p> +<p>"Yes, I'll come," replied the cowboy.</p> +<p>"What'll your dad say?"</p> +<p>"I don't know. That worries me. He's coming to visit me. I heard +from him again lately, and he means to take stage for Kremmling +soon."</p> +<p>"Wal, that's fine. I'll be glad to see him.... Wils, you're +goin' to be a big cattleman before you know it. Hey, Collie?"</p> +<p>"If you say so, dad, it'll come true," replied Columbine, with +her hand on his shoulder.</p> +<p>"Wils, you'll be runnin' White Slides Ranch before long, unless +Collie runs you. Haw! Haw!"</p> +<p>Collie could not reply to this startling announcement from the +old rancher, and Moore appeared distressed with embarrassment.</p> +<p>"Wal, I reckon you young folks had better ride down to Kremmlin' +an' get married."</p> +<p>This kindly, matter-of-fact suggestion completely stunned the +cowboy, and all Columbine could do was to gaze at the rancher.</p> +<p>"Say, I hope I ain't intrudin' my wishes on a young couple +that's got over dyin' fer each other," dryly continued Belllounds, +with his huge smile.</p> +<p>"Dad!" cried Columbine, and then she threw her arms around him +and buried her head on his shoulder.</p> +<p>"Wal, wal, I reckon that answers that," he said, holding her +close. "Moore, she's yours, with my blessin' an' all I have.... An' +you must understand I'm glad things have worked out to your good +an' to Collie's happiness.... Life's not over fer me yet. But I +reckon the storms are past, thank God!... We learn as we live. I'd +hold it onworthy not to look forward an' to hope. I'm wantin' peace +an' quiet now, with grandchildren around me in my old age.... So +ride along to Kremmlin' an' hurry home."</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>The evening of the day Columbine came home to White Slides the +bride of Wilson Moore she slipped away from the simple festivities +in her honor and climbed to the aspen grove on the hill to spend a +little while beside the grave of her father.</p> +<p>The afterglow of sunset burned dull gold and rose in the western +sky, rendering glorious the veil of purple over the ranges. Down in +the lowlands twilight had come, softly gray. The owls were hooting; +a coyote barked; from far away floated the mourn of a wolf.</p> +<p>Under the aspens it was silent and lonely and sad. The leaves +quivered without any sound of rustling. Columbine's heart was full +of a happiness that she longed to express somehow, there beside +this lonely grave. It was what she owed the strange man who slept +here in the shadows. Grief abided with her, and always there would +be an eternal remorse and regret. Yet she had loved him. She had +been his, all unconsciously. His life had been terrible, but it had +been great. As the hours of quiet thinking had multiplied, +Columbine had grown in her divination of Wade's meaning. His had +been the spirit of man lighting the dark places; his had been the +ruthless hand against all evil, terrible to destroy.</p> +<p>Her father! After all, how closely was she linked to the past! +How closely protected, even in the hours of most helpless despair! +Thus she understood him. Love was the food of life, and hope was +its spirituality, and beauty was its reward to the seeing eye. Wade +had lived these great virtues, even while he had earned a tragic +name.</p> +<p>"I will live them. I will have faith and hope and love, for I am +his daughter," she said. A faint, cool breeze strayed through the +aspens, rustling the leaves whisperingly, and the slender +columbines, gleaming pale in the twilight, lifted their sweet +faces.</p> +<br> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<h3>THE END</h3> + +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 13937 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/13937-h/images/cover.jpg b/13937-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..d9607fd --- /dev/null +++ b/13937-h/images/cover.jpg diff --git a/13937-h/images/frontispiece.jpg b/13937-h/images/frontispiece.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..7312438 --- /dev/null +++ b/13937-h/images/frontispiece.jpg diff --git a/13937-h/images/p096.jpg b/13937-h/images/p096.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..2b7dc8c --- /dev/null +++ b/13937-h/images/p096.jpg diff --git a/13937-h/images/p160.jpg b/13937-h/images/p160.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..b9d5e49 --- /dev/null +++ b/13937-h/images/p160.jpg diff --git a/13937-h/images/p280.jpg b/13937-h/images/p280.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..312c205 --- /dev/null +++ b/13937-h/images/p280.jpg |
