Nevada (1995) (43 page)

"LACY?" cried Marvie, starting up incredulously. "But you'r
e
Nevada!"

"Son, the Nevada you knew was Jim Lacy."

"My Heaven! what will Ben say? . . . An' Hettie," exclaime
d
Marvie, overcome.

"Reckon they'll say a lot--when they know. But promise me yo
u
won't give me away."

"Aw, Nevada, if you only knew how Ben--"

"Marvie, I'm not askin' you to keep it secret forever," interrupte
d
Jim hastily. "But for a little while. Promise, old pard."

"I--will," replied Marvie, choking.

"An' you, too, Rose?"

"I can keep secrets. An' I mustn't let slip that you're Marvie'
s
old pard Nevada?"

"Shore. An' now, Rose, let's get this confab over. I reckon m
y
hunch is correct. But I need to know more."

"I'll tell anything," she replied, under her breath.

"You told me Dillon is haid of this Pine Tree outfit?" querie
d
Nevada, bending down to the agitated face.

"Yes, sir," replied Rose. "Some of his men called him Campbell.

But he told Cedar his real name was Ed Richardson. He's from Ne
w
Mexico. He figgered in the Lincoln County war an' was close t
o
Billy the Kid. He fetched rustlers here with him. An' he got hol
d
of Cedar, an' Burt Stillwell, an' Stewart, an' other Arizona rider
s
whose names I never heard."

"Rose, how'd you happen on this?" asked Nevada, seriously.

"Cedar fetched Clan Dillon to our ranch, an' he tried to make up t
o
me," went on Rose. "I liked him first off. But I soon saw what h
e
was up to an' I had no use for him. Wal, one day Cedar threw me o
n
a horse an' rode me off to a cabin over here in Pi+-on Brake.

Dillon was there. He tried makin' more love to me. But I bit an'
k
icked an' clawed him. Then he manhandled me bad, with Ceda
r
grinnin' by. He'd have ruined me, too, but the men they wa
s
expectin' rode up an' I got thrown in the loft. Some of them wer
e
drunk. They all had money. An' they gambled an' stayed up al
l
night. In the mornin' they had a powwow. Then Cedar fetched m
e
back home an' swore he'd kill me if I squealed."

"Clan Dillon, then, is Ed Richardson--haid of this Pine Tre
e
outfit," said Nevada, "an' Ben Ide's foreman."

"Yes, sir," replied Rose, bravely, with lips that trembled.

"Good Lord!" ejaculated Marvie. "Ben swears by Dillon. He's gon
e
against Raidy, his oldest hand. . . . Gee! I wouldn't want to b
e
in Dillon's boots when Ben finds out!"

"Wal, Marvie, it's likely that Dillon's boots will be stickin' ou
t
straight when Ben heahs the truth. . . . Rose, is there an
y
particular reason why you'd like to go back home again? Clothes o
r
anythin' you care for?"

"All the duds I own are on my back," replied Rose, ruefully.

"Cedar burned my pretty dance dress--that I bought to look nice fo
r
Marvie. My pony's all I have. An' he's here."

"Marvie, get your horse an' put Rose on hers an' leave heah pront
o
for the Ide ranch. Look sharp an' don't run into any riders. Whe
n
you reach home turn Rose over to Hettie, an' both of you keep you
r
mouth shut."

His compelling force wrung mute promises from both Marvie and th
e
girl.

"My horse is on top, an' I cain't get him down heah. Rustle now."

Marvie started to lead Rose away, when he espied Cedar Hatt's gu
n
lying on the brown pine needles.

"Nevada--can I take it?" he queried, haltingly.

"What? Oh, Cedar's gun? Shore you take it."

The girl turned with lips parted. "Mister Jim--Nevada--we'll se
e
you again?"

"I reckon. Remember, I trust you to keep mum. Look sharp now, an'
h
urry along."

Nevada did not linger to watch them find and mount their horses;
h
owever, as he started up the slope he heard them, and felt tha
t
now all would be well with them. He climbed as one with wings.

How strange that the rough gully presented no obstacles! Reachin
g
his horse, he tightened the cinches, leaped astride, and rode up t
o
the level, where he faced north with a grim smile.

The afternoon had not far advanced. At a steady lope he covere
d
the miles of forested ridge, downhill and easy going until h
e
descended into the brakes. Here his horse toiled for an hour, a
t
last to crash out into the trail. One glance at the bare groun
d
showed him that Marvie and Rose had not yet come so far. H
e
preferred to reach the Ide ranch before they did. His mind clampe
d
round one thing and set there, cold and sure.

Five miles of travel, now slow, now swift, and then a hard clim
b
took Nevada out of the brakes into the beautiful stately forest
,
where the pines thinned and straggled to the desert sage. Ho
w
sweet the fragrance! He had once viewed from afar the Ide ranch
,
with its slope of sage and cedar leading up to the black benches.

The trail grew broad and sandy, so that his speeding horse thudde
d
almost noiselessly on. Clumps of spruce and low branches of pine
s
obscured the bends.

Nevada rode around an abrupt green curve almost to run down a hors
e
coming toward him. He pulled his mount to a sliding halt. H
e
heard a cry. The rider was a woman. Hettie Ide!

Chapter
eighteen.

"Hettie," said Ben Ide as he stood on the porch and spread his arm
s
to the glorious beauty and color of the Arizona landscape, "I onc
e
thought Forlorn River in the fall was pretty close to heaven. Bu
t
Cedar Springs Ranch has it beaten a mile."

"Ben Ide! You going back on Forlorn River!" exclaimed Hettie, i
n
surprise.

"Well, hasn't it? Look around. What do you think, yourself?"

"Long ago, before this wonderful autumn came, I was faithless t
o
California," murmured Hettie, regretfully.

"Hettie, not faithless. I don't love the old home country any th
e
less because I've learned to love this more. Lord knows I'v
e
reason to hate Arizona. But I can't. It grows on me. Here it'
s
way in September. Frost an' ice every mornin'. Indian summe
r
days. Look at the sage. It's purple. Look at the foothills.

Anyone would think they were painted. Look at the patches of gol
d
an' scarlet back up in the woods."

"It's very beautiful," replied Hettie, more dreamily.

"Sister, we mustn't forget that mother is to be taken to San Dieg
o
for the winter months."

"I've not forgotten, Ben. But there's no hurry. This weather i
s
perfect. Mr. Day claims it'll last till Christmas."

"Well, if it does, I could ask no more," said Ben. "Then I'll sen
d
mother with you an' Ina an' the kid to San Diego till spring. Bu
t
I'll stay on here. I'd be afraid to leave."

"It wouldn't be wise, Ben. Things have grown from bad to worse. I
f
ear you are in for more shocks."

"Tom Day says they must grow worse before they get better.

Heigho! . . . Well, I'm not lettin' disappointment sour me
,
anyhow."

"Disappointment? You mean--about ranching in Arizona?"

"Between you an' me, Hettie, I wasn't thinkin' of cattle at all,"
r
eplied Ben, sadly.

Hettie suffered a contraction of her heart. If Ben knew what sh
e
knew! She prayed that he never would. And she gave no sign tha
t
she divined the undercurrent of his words.

Marvie Blaine sat on the porch step, morosely cleaning his rifle
,
which evidently he had used that day. The lad had grown taller
,
thinner, more of a man these last few weeks.

"Marv, you don't ride far away when you hunt, do you?" queried Ben.

"Lots of turkey an' deer right in our back yard," answered Marvie
,
evasively.

"Humph! Much good that does you. I've yet to eat the venison yo
u
killed."

"Ben, I've killed some turkeys," insisted Marvie, stoutly. "An' to-
d
ay I had a shot at a buck."

"Seems to me you take a lot of time off," went on Ben, "an' I'
m
supposed to pay you a cowboy's salary."

"I do the work given me. Dillon sure slights me on every job h
e
can."

"Weren't you pretty smart-alec?" asked Ben.

"I wasn't until he got mean."

"An' when was that? Are you sure you don't imagine things? Dillo
n
is the kindest of foremen."

Marvie looked up deliberately and fastened unfathomable eyes upo
n
this friend of his boyhood.

"Dillon used to like me. But he changed after the cowboys told hi
m
how I'd made up to little Rose Hatt at the dance in Winthrop."

"Rose Hatt! That child of Elam Hatt's? I saw her once. What o
n
earth could it be to Dillon if you did flirt with Rose? As
a
matter of fact, he was merely worried about you. Rose was no gir
l
for you to get friendly with."

"Say, did Dillon tell you that?" queried Marvie, flushing.

"Yes. An' he advised me to put a stop to it. Said you might ge
t
in trouble."

Marvie jumped up as if he had been stung by a hornet.

"Ha! Ha!" he burst out, striding away with his head back. "Ha!

Ha! . . . Ha! Ha! Ha!"

He kept it up until he went out of sight around the house.

"Well, I'll be doggoned," ejaculated Ben, gazing at Hettie fo
r
confirmation of his fears. "Was that boy givin' me the horse-
l
augh?"

"He was surely giving you some kind of a laugh," replied Hettie
,
striving to hide her own amusement.

"Hettie, am I growin' old, thick-headed, absent-minded?" inquire
d
Ben, wistfully.

"No, Ben," returned his sister, dropping her head. "You've onl
y
the worry of the ranch on your mind."

"By George it is a worry," he sighed. "But, old girl, you've no
t
been so bright and happy as you were here at first. Neither i
s
Ina. I'm afraid I've done bad by both of you."

"Ben, it will all come right," spoke up Hettie, forcing a smile.

"We must take our medicine. It's Arizona medicine, which you
r
friend, Tom Day, says is powerful strong."

"Hettie, do you still think of--of--HIM?" asked Ben, in lower tone.

"Always," she replied, quaking inwardly. If only she had th
e
courage and the wit to keep her secret hidden!

"I'm afraid I've given up hope," went on Ben, somberly. "An' it'
s
taken the sap out of me. Don't tell Ina. But I'm fallin' into th
e
same rut as I was in last spring, over home on Tule Lake."

"Given up hope of what?" murmured Hettie.

"Of ever findin' Nevada," he replied, simply, as if the name wa
s
not one he never mentioned. "That's why I came to Arizona. Onc
e
at Forlorn River, when I asked Nevada what he'd do if anythin'
s
eparated us, he said he'd go to Arizona an' take to hard ridin'.