Читать книгу Twin Sombreros - Zane Grey - Страница 6

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The sheriff’s office appeared rather cramped quarters with the dozen or more occupants standing and sitting around. Outside a considerable crowd had collected. With few exceptions, notably the dark-garbed Surface and some close associates at his elbow, the assembly was composed of dusty-booted, roughly clad cattlemen.

Brazos took a swift survey of these spectators, more to sense their attitude than to look for some one who knew him. That there would be old acquaintances present he felt sure. For the time being the feeling in general seemed one of curious hostility.

“Set there, Keene,” said Kiskadden indicating one of two chairs back of his desk. Brazos saw his gun and belt, his watch and penknife, lying on some papers. The desk drawer was half open, showing the dark butts of several Colts.

“Let everybody in, if there’s room,” called the sheriff, to the guard at the door. Presently Kiskadden pounded on his desk to stop the talking. He stood erect. “Fellow citizens,” he said. “My mind aboot this case is made up. But I’ll hold a hearin’ so thet you-all can get the facts.”

Surface took a step out from the group of ranchmen evidently accompanying him. His mien was forceful, arrogant, suggestive of power. His bland face appeared to Brazos to be a mask. Not since Brazos had taken to the cattle trails had he trusted eyes like these.

“Sheriff, I move we try this man before twelve jurors. I will serve along with the members of the Cattlemen’s Association. We can pick the others from businessmen here.”

“What’s the idee of thet?” demanded Kiskadden.

“Your declaration that you had already come to a decision proves the consensus of opinion correct.”

“An’ what’s thet opinion, Mister Raine Surface?” queried the sheriff, sarcastically.

“You wouldn’t hang a Texas cowboy. This murderer would already have swung but for Inskip, who’s another of your Texas breed.”

“Wal, Surface, thet Texas breed opened up this cattle empire. An’ the strange fact is you seldom heah of one of them gettin’ hanged. Thet might come from their gun-throwin’ proclivity, an’ then again it might be thet few Texans deserve to swing. In this case, I’m refusin’ your offer of a jury. The law of this county is invested in me.”

“Kiskadden, you may rest assured your authority will not last long,” rejoined Surface, heatedly.

Brazos took in this byplay with a thrilled interest and keen observation. Surface certainly had no conception of Texas character. Evidently, he was rich, powerful, sure of himself. He seemed utterly blind to the fact that he himself was on trial there, before at least three cool Texans.

“I’m as shore as you air of thet,” drawled Kiskadden, his narrowed eyes like slits of gray on the rancher. “An’ I’m also shore of somethin’ else. It’s goin’ to look damn queer presently, when I prove this cowboy innocent, thet you’re so keen on hangin’ him.”

Surface turned a dark red. His collar appeared to be too tight for his bulging neck.

“You insulting Texan. I’ll run you—out of office for that!” he exclaimed, stridently.

“Run an’ be damned. Yore action an’ yore talk air not regular in this deal. They look fishy to this court. To be lousy with money an’ haid of this new Cattle Association shore doesn’t entitle you to run me an’ my office.... Do I make myself clear, Mister Surface?”

If the rancher did not take the hint at that, his associates surely did, for they drew him back and shut his mouth.

“All right. The hearin’s on,” called out Kiskadden, loudly. “Deputy Bodkin, step forward.”

“Yes, sir,” replied the burly officer, coming up to the desk.

“Take off yore hat when you testify to the court.... Place yore hand on this Bible an’ swear to tell the truth an’ nothin’ but the truth.”

Bodkin took the oath.

“Now proceed with yore testimony.”

“Wal, sir, it was late after two o’clock, night before last,” began Bodkin, glib with importance. “I’d been playin’ cards an’ had hardly got asleep when I was woke by somebody at my winder. I seen two men. It was too dark to see their faces plain. They was strangers. One of them told me they’d watched a cowboy shoot another off his horse, search him and drag him into the cabin. Thet was the old Hill cabin, long empty, six miles west of town. My informant told me the cowboy came out of the cabin, unsaddled the horses, an’ turned them loose. Then he went back. It was rainin’ an’ cold. He’d likely stay in the cabin till daybreak. Then the two fellars rustled off in the dark. I heerd their horses.... Wal, I got up, dressed an’ rustled out fer a posse. At thet hour, it wasn’t easy. I had to take who I could get. It was near dawn when I’d collected ten men. Inskip come along on his own accord. I didn’t want him. He heerd me wake his riders. He told them to saddle his hoss.... Wal, we rode out fast, an’ arrived at the cabin jest at daybreak. The prisoner thar had jest stepped out the door. We held him up, took his gun an’ what he had in his pockets. He was a cool one. I seen blood on his hand. I sent men inside to search the cabin. They found the dead man in the cabin an’ fetched him out. It was Allen Neece. Thet was sure a surprise to me. His pockets was turned inside out. I heerd today thet Neece won a hundred dollars at faro the afternoon before he rode out of town. He was goin’ to see some girl.... Wal, the prisoner hyar sure went white an’ sick when the dead boy was carried out an’ laid on the grass. A blind man could have seen thet he’d murdered him. We found one hoss, the prisoner’s. An’ Segel packed the dead boy in on his saddle.... All the way in I was debatin’ on hangin’ the murderer. An’ when I got to it, this side of Twin Sombreros Ranch, Inskip crowded in front of us an’ gave the cowboy a chance to grab his two guns.... We got held up pronto an’ drove into town. An’ I’m fer arrestin’ Inskip——”

“When Surface called you back, what did he say?” interrupted Kiskadden.

“What?” queried Bodkin, disconcerted for the first time.

“Surface halted you at his ranch, then followed you an’ stopped you. He drew you out of hearin’ of yore men. This court is powerful interested in what Surface said.”

“Wal—sir,” exploded the deputy, his swarthy visage turning yellow. “He advised hangin’ the cowboy right then an’ thar. Said he distrusted this office. Too much red tape an’ favor to Texans.”

“Surface advised hangin’ the prisoner without trial?”

“Yes, sir. An’ I was just set to do it. Barsh had the rope around his neck when Inskip broke up the game.”

“Thet will do, Bodkin,” said the sheriff. “Doctor Williamson, will you please step forward an’ make yore report.”

A stout middle-aged man, with ruddy face, approached the desk.

“Mister Sheriff,” he began, “and gentlemen. My fellow practitioner and I find that young Neece came to his violent death not later than the middle of the afternoon of day before yesterday. We find that death was caused by a compound fracture of the skull with consequent concussion of the brain. The bullet hole in his back was made long after he was dead. He had been roped and jerked heavily to the ground, probably from a horse.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” replied the sheriff. “Now, gentlemen, let me read you a telegram received heah this mawnin’. It is dated Latimer, Colorado, an’ it reads: ‘Sheriff Steve Kiskadden, Las Animas. The letter addressed to Brazos Keene was delivered to him in person at eight-ten o’clock day before yesterday morning. May fifth. Signed Postmaster John Hilton.’ ”

“Brazos Keene!” ejaculated Bodkin, as if the name stirred vague associations. A murmur ran through the standing crowd. But it was certain that Raine Surface had never heard the name.

“Yes, Brazos Keene,” drawled the Texas sheriff, not without a dry satisfaction. “Gentlemen, you all know thet Latimer is a long way from Las Animas. Much too far for the hardest of hard-ridin’ cowboys to get to the Hill cabin in the afternoon—an’ murder an’ rob young Allen Neece. The letter Keene has in his possession absolutely clears him of any implication whatever in this tragedy. It was physically impossible for Brazos Keene to be there. What is more, Brazos Keene is not the breed of cowboy who would perpetrate such a cowardly job. For the benefit of those present who could not possibly have heard of Brazos Keene, an’ further, to clear his name in every way this court has power, I purpose to heah from men who do know him.... Mr. Hutchinson, will you please step forward. I need hardly tell the courtroom who an’ what Randolph Hutchinson is.”

A stalwart man, long past sixty, yet erect and keen-eyed, stood out from the crowd.

“Mr. Sheriff an’ fellow citizens,” he said. “I have known Brazos Keene for years, in fact since his first trail trip up from Texas to Dodge City. He was a wild cowboy, as indeed all those boys had to be to survive those days. After that I gave him many an important job. Long after that time Brazos rode for the Ripple outfit at Don Carlos’ Rancho. He often rode into Las Animas. I am sure many of our merchants and cattlemen will remember him, and join me in saying no finer, straighter, squarer cowboy than Brazos Keene ever straddled a horse in the interest of the honest cattle business of the range.”

Next, without being called, a little wizen-faced, bright-eyed Mexican rushed to take Hutchinson’s place.

“Mexican Joe—he know thees Señor Brazos Keene,” he began, dramatically. “Joe run leetle restaurants here many years. Joe lend the moneys many times to thees cowboy. He ees always pay. One time he save my girl from the drunk hombres. Señor Brazos es un caballero grande!”

This eloquent tribute elicited a smile from many of the sober-faced spectators. Then the crowd parted to let out a stooped, gray, hawk-faced, bowlegged man who had grown bent and stiff in the saddle.

Brazos gave a violent start. “Hank Bilyen! ... Aw, sheriff, don’t let thet son-of-a-gun talk aboot me!” cried Brazos, appealingly.

“Howdy, Brazos,” drawled Bilyen, as he hobbled up to offer his hand. Brazos wrung it heartily. “Hank, you old geezer! I clean forgot aboot you.”

“Wal, I ain’t forgot you, cowboy, as you’ll get a hunch pronto,” replied Bilyen, stepping up to Kiskadden. “Sheriff, I take pleasure in accommodatin’ you with some facts about this cowboy you’ve had the nerve to arrest.”

“No, Hank, you’ve got it wrong,” drawled Kiskadden. “My bright deputy arrested him. Keene rode in heah with the whole posse in front of him. An’ he gave himself up for trial. I’ll take it as a personal favor to me if you testify to yore estimate of him.”

“Wal, gentlemen,” said Bilyen, with a dry chuckle, as he faced the gaping crowd. “It jest occurs to me how orful long five years is. Fer it’s been thet long since Brazos Keene used to give us somethin’ to talk about round the campfires. An’ in thet time the railroad has come, with many new people, an’ most of the old-timers have passed on. So to most of you, Brazos Keene is a stranger. An’ to the newcomers, like Surface an’ Bodkin, an’ the rest of you, I’d say you’re lucky to see one of the real cowboys who made this range safe. Brazos Keene was one of Cap Britt’s outfit. An’ if thet means little to you, let me add thet Britt was Colonel Ripple’s right-hand man. An’ Ripple was one of the greatest ranchers the West ever knew. Some years back, the Colonel fetched his daughter Holly Ripple up from the South, an’ about thet time the bad men of the border concentrated in New Mexico from the Cimarron to Glorietta Pass. Britt had a hundred thousand steers. To hold them he got together the greatest outfit of riders ever runnin’ fer one brand. Chisum’s bunch wasn’t a marker to Britt’s. An’ Brazos Keene was the leader of thet outfit.... It ill becomes a Westerner to speak of another’s gun record. An’ Brazos Keene might be offended. But I’ll risk a little. He was the swiftest man with a gun, the fiercest in spirit, the most relentless tracker any of us old-timers ever knew. It was Keene’s cunnin’, his hound-scent on a trail, an’ last, his skill with a gun thet broke up the associated bands of rustlers in New Mexico. Sewall McCoy—sure you’ve all heard his name—he was one of these rich, smooth, respectable, office-seekin’, social-prominent cattlemen who behind all thet was the blackest, craftiest, bloodiest rustler baron we ever had out heah. McCoy believed dead cowboys told no tales. If he could not corrupt honest boys he had them ambushed an’ shot. Brazos got this gentleman to rights—an’ he killed him.... Also he killed Williams, another cattleman followin’ in McCoy’s tracks. An’ he fetched the boss rustler Slaughter before McCoy—packin’ him over a saddle, hanged before he was bored full of holes—an’ he confronted Mr. McCoy with the little book thet rustler kept, an’ he called McCoy all the turrible names the range ever heerd of. Exposed him before two outfits, dared him, cussed him to draw, an’ killed him! ... Thet, gentlemen, was only one of the little deals Brazos Keene is known by.... An’ this is the Brazos Keene our clever deputy had the gall to arrest, an’ our new neighbor Mr. Raine Surface, had the nerve to want hanged, an’ our smart young citizen, one Barsh, had the—Gawd! I don’t know what to call it, but for want of a better word I’ll say insanity—this Barsh had the insanity to throw a noose around Brazos Keene’s neck.... If I haven’t lived all these last twenty years on the frontier in vain, if Hank Bilyen hasn’t lost his sense of Western creed, an’ his memory for historical facts—then it’s a thousand to one thet Brazos Keene will find the murderer of Allen Neece, an’ he’ll get to the bottom of Mr. Surface’s queer hankerin’ to hang him—an’ as for Bodkin an’ Barsh—Wal! I ain’t predictin’ in these days of onsartin life, but I wouldn’t be in their boots for a million dollars!”

Once in his life Brazos had stood for frank eulogy about himself and for blunt reference to his career. The crowd stood silent under Bilyen’s harangue, and at the thundering end, it gave further proof of how the truth had sunk in, especially in the case of the cowering Barsh, the pallid sweating Bodkin, and the pale Surface.

Brazos wrestled up out of his seat. “Hank, old-timer, thet’ll be aboot all,” he drawled in his cool dry way. “If you think so doggone much of me as thet, stake me to a sack full of pesos, will yu? I’m flat broke an’ it’s shore embarrassin’.”

“Come to the bank with me,” replied Bilyen, grinning, shaken out of his passionate earnestness.

Kiskadden pounded on the table to stop the talking, laughing and shuffling of boots.

“This hearin’ ain’t quite over yet,” he explained. “Brazos, I’m returnin’ yore gun.... There! An’ I’m apologizin’ as a man if I cain’t as a sheriff.”

“Thanks, Kiskadden,” replied Brazos, as he buckled on the heavy belt. “Gosh, thet’s good! You know I sorta feel undressed withoot it.... Ahuh! Wal, I had a hunch. Some slick law-abidin’ hombre took the shells oot. I’ll just load up again—to be ready in case I meet any skunks in the street.”

The humorous speech of the cowboy contrasted strangely with the singular dexterity with which he reloaded the weapon, and then rolled it in a flashing steely wheel. One of the onlookers burst into a nervous laugh, but the majority seemed fascinated by that action of Brazos’. On the frontier, the six-shooter was supreme, law or no law.

“Bodkin,” called out the sheriff, drastically. “I never did cotton to you. How I ever hired you to represent me in this community is hard to explain an’ impossible to swallow. But I reckon you was forced on my hands by Surface an’ some of his Cattle Association friends.... You’re the blunderin’est—not to say wuss—excuse for a deputy thet I ever seen. Why, down in Texas you’d last aboot as long as it took you to walk oot from yore appointment. An’ my last official act as sheriff heah is to discharge you. Get oot! You’re fired. It’d be a good idee for you an’ Barsh to hide.... Open up there. Let ’em oot! ... Now, gentlemen, the Brazos Keene hearin’ is ended, an’ I’m resignin’ as sheriff.”

A response approaching uproar succeeded this dramatic climax of the trial. Brazos caught a general disapproval in the assembly. There appeared to be immediate discord in the Cattlemen’s Association. Kiskadden would not hear those who approached him to disclaim against the turn of affairs. He forced these men to follow the others out to the street. Brazos and Bilyen were left alone with the sheriff.

“Wal, mebbe I wasn’t glad of a chance like thet!” he exclaimed, his face shining.

“Don’t blame you. But the county will be hot over it,” replied Bilyen.

“What yu got up yore sleeve, Texas Jack?” queried Brazos, shrewdly.

“I’ll tell you later. Brazos, you ain’t slopin’ off, by any chance? ... Haw! Haw! Excuse me.... Wal, I want to move oot. What you want done with thet fine bay hawse?”

“Doggone if I know.”

“Tell you what,” interposed Bilyen. “I’ll send a boy over to fetch your hoss an’ saddle to where I keep mine. Later I’ll be takin’ you out to meet my boss.”

“An’ who’s he?”

“No less than Abe Neece—a grand old man, Brazos. I was his foreman at Twin Sombreros, an’ after the crash, I jest couldn’t leave him. Brazos, you’ll be so sorry fer him thet you’ll go gunnin’ fer trouble.”

“Will I? Doggone it! Oot of the fryin’ pan into the fire! ... At thet, I’m sorry enough now for these Neeces. Hank, it was like yu to stick. I kinda think yu’re a real fellar.”

At the door they were accosted by a lithe young man in rider’s garb much the worse for wear. He had a clean-cut, youthful face, tanned by exposure, and fine eyes.

“I’d like to shake your hand, Keene,” he said hesitatingly, but with a winning smile.

“Shore. An’ who’re yu?” returned Brazos, slowly, as he returned the smile. He was the easiest cowboy on the ranges to approach—when he happened to meet this type.

“Jack Sain. Hank knows me. I’ve been pretty friendly with the Neeces. Allen was my pard. It plumb busted me all up—what happened to him.”

“Ahuh. Wal, I’m darned glad to meet yu, Jack.”

“Brazos, it was Jack’s friendship for the Neeces thet cost him his job. He rode fer Surface. You see there ain’t any love lost between the Surfaces an’ the Neeces.”

“Wal, Jack, I’ll be wantin’ to hobnob with yu some,” said Brazos, thoughtfully. “Where yu workin’ now?”

“Nowhere. I can’t get a job. Surface is strong in the association an’ he’s queered me.”

“Doggone!” mused Brazos. “Thet’s interestin’. Surface ’pears to be playin’ a high hand around heah.... Jack, where can I find yu later in the afternoon?”

“Meet me at the Twin Sombreros Restaurant, up by the railroad station. About suppertime.”

“Thet the place run by the Neece girls? Won’t they be kinda nervous—seein’ me?”

“Janis was with me in the sheriff’s office. She slipped out just after Hank’s speech. Before she went she said: ‘Jack, I’d never believe that cowboy murdered Allen.’ ... Both the girls are dead game, Brazos, an’ they’ll be glad to see you.”

“All right, Jack. I’ll be there.”

They parted, and Bilyen led Brazos slowly up the wide street. “Fine lad thet,” Bilyen was saying. “Down on his luck now. I reckon he didn’t tell you everythin’. Lura Surface was sweet on Jack. She throws herself at every fellar who strikes her fancy. But when Jack met June Neece, he went loco. You never seen a cowboy so deep in love. An’ June leans to him a lot, though she’s not a hell of a flirt at all like Janis.”

“My Gawd! ... Hank, is this a story yu’re readin’ me? The next thing yu’ll tell me these sisters will be pretty an’ sweet an’—wal, Jack said they were daid game.”

“Cowboy, wait till you see them.”

“What am I gonna wait for? Tell me, man. An’ then if it’s bad news I can fork my hawse an’ ride.”

“It’s good news, Brazos,” replied Bilyen, soberly, taking him seriously. “June an’ Jan Neece are the wonderfullest girls this range ever saw. Pretty! Hell, thet ain’t no word! What’s more they’re sweet an’ true—an’ game? Say! ... Old Abe developed thet ranch for them—sent them east to school to be educated—to do him proud. Ten years ago! They came back with trunks of stylish clothes an’ crazy to make joy at Twin Sombreros. Only they never got there! Folks love these girls because they’re unspoiled. An’ when their fortunes fell, they went plumb to work.”

“Hank, I reckon I better climb Bay an’ race for Montana,” declared Brazos, ruefully.

“Why, you darn fool?”

“ ’Cause I have a turrible weakness.”

“Haw! Haw! You haven’t outgrowed thet. Wal, Brazos, I reckon it’s on the cairds fer you to stay here.”

“On the cairds? Hell, yes! They always run thet way for me. Same old—deal! If I’ve got any sense atall, I’ll rustle.”

“Since when did Brazos Keene grow selfish?” queried Bilyen, with subtle scorn.

“Selfish? Me! What’s eatin’ you, Hank Bilyen?”

“Think of thet pore murdered boy—an’ his brokenhearted dad—an’ them fine girls workin’ from daylight to midnight.”

“Thet’s what I am thinkin’ aboot!” protested Brazos.

Bilyen halted in front of a bank and spoke low in Brazos’ ear. “They’ve lost their brother. An’ the beautiful home thet was built fer them. Their father is dyin’ of grief.... They’ve been cheated, robbed ruined.... An’ last, Brazos, young Allen Neece was givin’ his time to ferretin’ out the secret of thet ruin. An’ thet’s why he was murdered!”

Brazos leaned back against the rough stone wall of the bank and drew a deep breath, that whistled at the intake. His narrowed gaze fastened down the wide street, with its wagons and horses and busy sidewalks, out to the gray rangeland and the purple mountains. There was no use for him to rail at destiny or to try to run away from the inevitable. He pressed a steel-like hand against his breast where his precious letter lay in his pocket. He remembered.

“Shore, Hank, I savvy yu,” he answered, with the old cool drawl. “Let’s go in an’ rob the bank. Then yu can take me oot to meet Abe Neece. An’ after thet, I’ll see the twins.... Doggone! Only yesterday or thereaboots, I was a friendless, grub-line ridin’ cowboy. Funny aboot life! But it’s worth livin’.”

A few minutes later, Brazos stood outside the bank again, feeling a compact bulge in his pocket not altogether made by his precious letter.

“Hank, I only wanted a little money,” expostulated Brazos. “How’n hell will I ever pay it back?”

“Holy mackerel, Brazos, ask me an easy one. But I know you will,” rejoined Bilyen, with a laugh. “I can spare thet. Before I went to work fer Neece, I sold my herd to him, an’ I’ve saved my money an’ wages. Lucky I did. I’m takin’ care of the old man now an’ I lent the twins enough to start their restaurant.”

“Wal, yu always was a good friend, Hank. Yu deserve to be a big rancher.... Say, who’s this gazabo comin’?”

“Thet’s Sam Mannin’. Still has his store down the street. Sure, you remember Sam.”

“No, I shore wouldn’t have known him,” said Brazos. “Gosh, what a few years can do!”

A spare gray Westerner of venerable and kindly aspect came up to them, his lined face breaking into a smile.

“Hello, Brazos,” he said, heartily, extending his hand. “I heard you were in town, but I didn’t see any smoke. Glad to see you again. An’ just about the same!”

“Howdy, Sam. It’s just fine to shake yore hand. I’m gonna run in pronto an’ buy oot yore store. Have you any of those red silk scarfs Louise used to sell me?”

“Plenty, cowboy. My store an’ business have grown with the years.”

“Thet’s fine. An’ how’s Louise?”

“Married long ago, Brazos. She has two children.”

“I’ll be doggoned! You tell Louise Mannin’ I swore she’d wait for me.”

“I will. An’ if I remember Louise in your day, she’ll be fussed. Be sure to drop over.... How are you, Hank?”

“Wal, Sam, I was feelin’ low till Brazos rode to town. Things will pick up now.”

“I shouldn’t wonder,” responded Manning, wagging his gray head, and he passed on into the bank.

“Hank, let’s duck down an alley, or somethin’. If I meet any more old friends I’ll bust.”

“Stand your ground, cowboy. I got to buy some grub. ... Haw! Haw! Look who’s spotted you. Has she got eyes? Aw no——”

“Save me, Hank. Who’n hell? I’ll bet it’s thet Surface girl.”

“Right, Brazos. I’ll duck in the store. Hope some of you’ll be left when I come out.”

Brazos had attention only for the stunningly handsome and strikingly attired young woman who bore down upon him, face flushed and eyes alight. She was taller than she had appeared astride a horse, beautifully proportioned, and several years beyond her teens.

“I congratulate you, Mr. Brazos Keene,” she said, graciously offering her hand. “I’m very glad indeed. It was a stupid blunder.”

“Wal, thet’s shore nice of yu, Miss Surface,” replied Brazos, as he bowed bareheaded to take her hand. “Considerin’ how keen yore father was to see me hanged, I’m more’n grateful to see yu wasn’t.”

“Oh, Dad is impossible,” she declared, impatiently. “He seems to suspect every cowboy who rides in from the West. If one happens to come along from Kansas, he’ll hire him.”

“Shore does seem unreasonable an’ hard on us Western riders,” drawled Brazos, his gaze strong on her. “I was aboot to shake the dust of Las Animas. But now, I just reckon I’ll hang around. Do you think I might get to see yu again?”

“You might,” she replied, blushing very becomingly. “I’d like nothing better.”

“But Mr. Surface wouldn’t like it.”

“I’m over twenty-one.”

“Wal, you shore don’t look it.... I wonder where I was all the time yu’ve been growin’ up into such a lovely girl.”

“I’ve wasted a good deal of it on cowboys less appreciative than you,” she replied, accepting his nonchalant challenge with a dark flash in her green-blue eyes.

“Most cowboys air dumb.... When an’ how can I see yu, Lura?”

“When do you want to, Brazos?” she returned, brightly, the red spots playing prettily in her cheeks.

“Wal, I want to right now. But I’ve got to go with Hank. Would tomorrow be too soon? I reckon I can wait thet long.”

“I imagine you will find that long time very trying,” she said, quizzically, watching him with amused wonder. Yet she had the soft light in her eyes that usually shone in women’s eyes for Brazos.

“I’ll just aboot die.... I’m afraid it happened to me oot at yore ranch the other day—when yu told yore father thet I never murdered Allen Neece.”

“What happened?”

“I don’t know what yet. But I felt powerful strange around heah,” replied Brazos, putting his hand to his heart.

“You are sudden.... Brazos Keene, I believe all I’ve heard about you today, except that you were crooked.”

“Wal, in thet case, I’ll forgive yu.”

“I’ll bet it’s true you’ve been a perfect devil with women.”

“If havin’ my heart broke a lot of times proves thet—wal, I’m guilty.”

“There’s Dad down the street,” she returned, coolly. “Meet me tomorrow afternoon about three in the grove on the east bank of the brook that runs into the Purgatory about a mile out of town. Can you remember all that?”

“I’ll be there,” promised Brazos.

She rewarded him with a dazzling smile and swept on down the street.

“Brimstone an’ chain lightnin’,” soliloquized Brazos, watching the superb form depart. “Turrible took with herself. Crazy aboot men. An’ I cain’t savvy what else. But doggone it! I like her.”

Bilyen emerged from the store burdened with bags, of which he gave Brazos a generous share.

“You look kinda sheepish,” he observed. “I’d be some worried if I didn’t know you was goin’ to meet June Neece today.”

“Yeah. An’ why June if she’s got a twin sister you cain’t tell from her?”

“Oh, you can—if they help you.... I said June because she’s warm. Janis got the nickname Jan, meanin’ January. An’ you ought to remember this range in winter.”

“Jan ’cause she’s cold an’ June ’cause she’s hot! Say, Hank, this plot is thickenin’ too darn deep. Suppose they wouldn’t tip a fellar off which one he happened to be makin’—to be talkin’ to?”

“In thet case he’d be in deep, believe me.”

They walked to a stable and corral on the outskirts of town, where Hank sent a boy after Brazos’ horse and saddle. In due time, the two were riding out over country that brought thrilling memories to Brazos. And what interesting historical facts Brazos did not remember or never knew, Hank glibly supplied.

“Brazos, you should remember Fort Lyon. You once had a fight there, I reckon about seven years ago. Wal, there’s the old fort. It was abandoned by the army two years ago. Kit Carson stayed there a good deal in the sixties, as also did Buffalo Bill, supplyin’ buffalo meat to the fort. West of town about ten miles is the ruins of Fort William Bent, built by the Bent brothers in 1874, the same year I come to Las Animas. Them was the good old wild days, Brazos. When there was roundups of great cattle herds from the Panhandle, an’ huge shipments of buffalo meat an’ hides to the east. Wagon trains, prairie schooners, stage coaches. All gone—them days of romance!”

“Yeah? Wal, it strikes me all the romance an’ all the wild days ain’t gone. Look what’s happened to me in two days!”

Bilyen had a little ten-acre ranch on the Purgatory. A gray shack faced the rocky, swift-running stream, and the splendid vista of plains to the south and the noble slopes of foothills rising to the Rockies on the west.

“I can set on my doorstep an’ ketch trout,” boasted Hank. “An’ look at thet!”

“Wal, I reckon I’ll buy this place from yu an’ settle down,” drawled Brazos, dreamily.

He was leaning over the rocky bank, still dreaming, when Hank came out of the shack accompanied by a man whose lean gray visage denoted the havoc of trouble if not of years. Brazos leaped erect, galvanized with an instinct in this meeting. It was to meet the penetrating gaze of tawny shadowed eyes.

“Howdy, Brazos Keene,” was the man’s greeting. “Hank has told me about you. I’m glad you were cleared of that trumped-up charge.”

“Shore happy to meet you, Mr. Neece,” responded Brazos, warmly.

“Cowboy, you’ve got the cut of my son Allen.... Only you’re older—an’ there’s something proved about you. Allen was young, reckless, inexperienced.”

“Let’s set down on the bank heah. Nice view. I’m gonna buy this place from Hank.”

“Have you met my twin girls?”

“Not yet. I’ve heahed all aboot them, though. An’ I gotta hand it to them, Mr. Neece. I shore look forward to meetin’ them.”

Neece sighed and gazed out across the greening brakes and swales to the open range. He was not old, nor feeble, but it appeared plain that the shock of disaster had broken him.

“Brazos, is what Bilyen tells me true?” he queried presently, with an effort.

“Gosh, I’d trust Hank every way ’cept talkin’ aboot me.”

At this juncture Brazos fell from humor to earnestness, changed by the dark meaning fire in Hank’s eye.

“Hank says you’re goin’ to stay here an’ look into the deal we Neeces have had.”

“I shore am. It looks queer to me,” declared Brazos, realizing that he was not averse to being drawn into the Neece mystery.

“That’s good of you, cowboy. But why do you interest yourself in our troubles? You never knew Allen. You have not met my girls. Surface, who ruined us, is at the head of the strong combine of cattlemen in east Colorado. You’re takin’ a large order on yourself.”

“Wal, thet’s easy to answer,” declared Brazos, coolly. “Bodkin arrested me because he needed to hang the crime on somebody. He thought I was a stranger—a cowboy down on his luck. Surface wanted me hanged. For reasons I’m gonna find oot. If thet wasn’t enough to rile Brazos Keene—wal, this rotten deal handed to yu an’ yore three kids shore would be. Thet’s all, Neece. I don’t want to brag, but the ootfit chalked up some bad marks for themselves.”

“You insinuate Surface is in some way connected with Bodkin?”

“Insinuate nothin’. I’m tellin’ you, Mr. Neece. But did yu need to be told thet Surface doesn’t ring true—thet Bodkin was a fourflush shady deputy sheriff? Wal, Kiskadden knew it an’ he was damn glad thet I rode along to blow this ootfit up. Kiskadden resigned pronto.”

“He did? Well!” ejaculated Neece, beginning to grow intense.

“I don’t just savvy Kiskadden. Shore he’s a Texan an’ would have backed me to the throwin’ of guns. I seen them in his desk. All easy to snatch! ... But he’s got somethin’ up his sleeve beside the deal given me. Shore I reckon my surrenderin’ to him——”

“Surrenderin’? I thought you were arrested an’ jailed.”

“Not exactly,” drawled Brazos. “Bodkin an’ his posse arrested me, shore. But when we rode into Las Animas an’ up to the sheriff’s office, I had thet posse in front of me, sittin’ their saddles stiff.”

“How, for heaven’s sake?”

Brazos gave a brief account of the fray and how Inskip had helped him come out on top.

“Inskip? So he was in the posse. Brazos Keene, I note the real Westerners take to you.”

“Wal, Kiskadden shore has somethin’ up his sleeve beside takin’ to me.... Neece, I have a letter thet cleared me of implication in the—the murder of yore son. It’s from New Mexico. Now I read it to Kiskadden. An’ I’m gonna read a little of it to yu an’ Hank heah. When I ran into Surface, I hadn’t even read that part of it, an’ it came as a surprise to me. Yu air to keep mum aboot it, see?”

Brazos took out Holly’s letter, carefully opened and smoothed and sorted the pages until he came to Renn Frayne’s postscript. The passage that related to Surface he slowly and gravely read.

Neece showed that he still had flint in him to strike fire from. Manifestly deeply stirred, he controlled himself admirably and very probably found his real self for the first time since disaster and grief had overcome him.

“No coincidence! That was my herd. It was last seen on the Canadian.”

“Wal, I had thet hunch myself. What yu think, Hank?”

“Brazos Keene! So you dropped out of the sky with thet letter? Same old Brazos! ... By Gawd, I’m riled. I can see light an’ it’s red. Haw! Haw! There’s some of us left.... Surface, the——”

“Cheese it, Hank,” interposed Brazos. “You’re turrible profane. An’ after all it may be a pore steer. Only it cain’t be! But we gotta be shore. My idee is thet Frayne has tipped me a hunch damn important to eastern Colorado. ... Neece, I’ve heahed yore story from Hank. Just now, I only want to put one question. How an’ when did yu lose thet money of Surface’s yu got in Dodge?”

“Simple as a, b, c. I wanted cash. Got it, an’ took it on the train in a satchel. The train was late. It didn’t get into Las Animas till after midnight. Jerry, my stableboy, met me with the buckboard. We drove out toward the ranch. At the turn of the road, where the brook crosses an’ the cottonwoods grow thick, I was held up by three men an’ robbed.”

“Ahuh. An’ they shore knew where yu’d been an’ what you had.”

“You bet they did.”

“Was there anythin’ at all familiar aboot them?”

“No. Strangers. They wore masks. But I never forget a voice, once I hear it. One of the three had a young nervous high-pitched voice almost womanish. He called the burly man what sounded like ‘Brad,’ an’ got cussed for doin’ it. They were rough, tough range riders.”

“Brad,” echoed Brazos, with a wild leap of his pulse. “Was thet all you heahed?”

“Yes. One of them batted me on the head. Jerry is not well yet from the beatin’ they gave him.”

“Did yu ever tell thet you heahed the name Brad—spoke by a young nervous high-pitched voice?”

“Come to think of it, I don’t believe I ever did except maybe to Allen. How about that, Hank?”

“You never told me.”

“It must have slipped my mind after I told Allen. You excite me so it all comes back clear.”

“Wal, thet’s all I want to heah this time. I’ll walk aboot a bit an’ think. Then I’ll ride back to town an’ keep my appointment with Jack Sain.... Neece, do you like thet cowboy?”

“Jack Sain? Yes, I do, though I’ve only known him since the girls came home. He and Allen were friends, and ...” Neece’s voice broke.

“Ahuh. Wal, I liked him too.... Hank, I’ll be heah in the mawnin’. An’ Mr. Neece, don’t get het up overly aboot this. I might be loco, but I swear we’re on as black an’ bloody a trail as I ever took up. So it behooves us to use our haids. Adios.”