Sunset Pass (1990) (8 page)

"Howdy, boss!" returned Rock cordially. "We got the fence job 'most done."

Preston fell in step with, Rock, and they approached the double cabin, where on the wide porch were collected the women and children. Ash was the only one of the returning brothers who got down on the ground.

"Cowboy, I shore hope you won't rile Ash--leastways hyar before the women," said Preston hurriedly.

"Don't worry, boss," returned Rock with a genial laugh. He had caught a glimpse of Thiry, who kept somewhat in the background.

Egypt was standing, bridle down, halfway between Ash and the porch. One glance told Rock that he was gaunt, dirty, and rough, but apparently as sound as ever.

"Howdy, boys!" said Rock, nodding to the drivers on the wagons. Then, halting beside Egypt, he turned to face Ash Preston. Despite his iron control a slight quiver strung his frame. How cool, intent, potential of evil menace this man! He stood at ease, hands on his hips, his black sombrero slouched back, his blue-flame eyes piercing Rock, as if to read his mind. Rock had met penetrating glances before, and this one shot little cold sparks along his marrow.

"Howdy, Ash! Did you like my horse?"

"He's got any outlaw beat I ever rode."

"Dog-gone! Leslie swore this horse never pitched in his life."

"Reckon thet was no lie, Rock. But I nagged him. He threw me, an' I couldn't get near him again thet day."

"Served you right," responded Rock naturally. "It doesn't pay to be mean to horses. And see here, Ash, don't go borrowin' a horse from a rider without askin' him."

The tension relaxed, the charged atmosphere lost its fullness and suspense. Ash eyed Rock with slow, cool smile, and slouched with clinking steps to the porch.

Rock spent so much time caring for Egypt, cleaning and brushing him, and making him a comfortable bed of grass in a stall, that it was dark when he got back to his cabin. The supper bell rang. He hurried out, and arrived as the Prestons were just seating themselves at table.

Afterward, Preston called him into his cabin. "Have a drink with me, Rock," invited Preston.

"Sorry, boss, but I've quit."

"Have a cigar, then."

"Thanks," replied Rock. "Did you have a successful trip?"

"Best ever, but thet won't interest you," returned Preston briefly. "I'll say, though, thet when the trip ended hyar I was some worried. An' when I seen you packin' a gun, I was scared stiff."

"Sorry, boss. It's just habit."

"Ahuh!" returned Preston giving Rock a dubious look. "But it was hard to figger you. Ash shore wasn't able to. An' you clean knocked the pins from under him. He didn't an' neither did any of us, expect you to take thet dirty deal so nice an' friendly."

"What else could I do?" demanded Rock, spreading wide his hands. "I came out here to make friends, not enemies."

"Wal, I'm shore thankin' you. You've got Ash stumped. I heard him ask Lucy if you'd been runnin' after Thiry."

"Humph! What did Lucy say?"

"Lucy said you hadn't--thet you were seldom hyar, an' then never paid no attention to Thiry. Is thet so, Rock?"

"Reckon it is, since you left."

"You an' Thiry quarrelled, I take it," went on Preston. "She has a way of makin' the boys leave her alone. I didn't think you'd be so easy. Just before supper Thiry told me you'd acted wonderful with Ash--thet she'd misjudged you. The truth is, Rock, I think she likes you. You've shore begun right, if you're in earnest about her."

Rock could scarcely believe his ears. "In earnest? Good Lord! I wish I knew how to tell you how earnest I am."

"Wal, I reckon now I savvy why you met Ash that way. Rock, you're an upstandin fine, chap an' I like you. So don't be backward tellin' me just how you feet about Thiry."

"Preston, the minute I laid eyes on Thiry I fell in love with her. It's changed my whole life. I used to be a free, careless hombre, runnin' after girls, drinkin', gamblin', fightin'. But that's past."

"Thanks fer talkin out," rejoined Preston, bending deep, inscrutable eyes upon Rock. "Course you mean marriage, cowboy?"

Rock jerked in his chair; his face reddened. "Preston--I never let myself have such hope," he burst out.

"But you'd like to marry her?" queried this astounding ranchman.

Rock stared a moment. "I'd be the happiest and luckiest fellow on earth."

"Wal, thet's talkin'," returned Preston gruffly. "Do you want my advice?"

"Preston, I--I'd be most grateful for anythin'."

"Thiry ought to be told."

"Aw, no! So soon? It'd only distress her--do my cause harm."

"Cowboy, you don't know women," said Preston. "The very fact thet you came to me an' declared yourself, straight like your name, will go far with Thiry, an' all of us 'ceptin' Ash. An' even Ash couldn't help but see thet was right. Wal, I'm appreciatin' your fine feelin's, Rock, so I'll tell her myself," replied the rancher, and turning to the open door he called, "Thiry!"

"Preston!" gasped Rock, rising. Standing as if paralyzed, he heard light quick footfalls. Immediately the dark doorway framed a slender form in white, with wistful, expectant face and great, doubtful eyes.

"Come in, lass, an' shut the door," said her father.

She complied hesitatingly, her glance going from her father to Rock.

"Thiry," he went on, and when she drew close he put an arm around her. "Do you see thet big cowpuncher standin' over there?"

"Yes, Dad--I couldn't very well help it," she replied.

"Sort of pale round the gills, ain't he?"

"Dad, I--I'm afraid he looks a little guilty."

"Wal, it's not exactly guilt," laughed Preston. "Lass, Rock has asked your hand in marriage--an' I've given it."

"Father!" cried Thiry incredulously, almost with horror.

In that exclamation of protest, of unbelief, of consternation, Rock delved further into this Preston mystery. It seemed to betray Preston's guilt along with that of his son, and Thiry's knowledge of it.

"Wal, lass, will you answer Rock now or do you want some time to think it over?" asked Preston coolly, unabashed or unconcerned by her agitation.

"Mr. Rock, I thank you," said Thiry, through trembling pale lips, "for the honour you do me. I'm sorry I cannot accept."

Rock bowed, with what little dignity he could assume.

"Thiry, wait a minute," said her father, as she made for the door. He caught her and held her. "I'm sorry to upset you. Don't think your dad wants to get rid of you. I'm powerful fond of you, Thiry. It's only thet lately--wal, I don't want to worry you about what might happen to me. I might not always be hyar to take care of you. I'd like to have your future settled before--before long. An' Rock struck me about right. Aw, there you're cryin'. Wal, run along. I shore cain't stand a cryin' woman, not even you. An' it's no great compliment to Rock."

Thiry held her head high as she walked by Rock without giving him another word or glance; and he saw that she was weeping.

"Preston, I ought to knock the daylights out of you," declared Rock wrathfully, when Thiry was gone. "If I ever had any hope to win Thiry, it's sure gone now."

"Much you know about women," said Preston. "I had a hunch Thiry took a shine to you; now I know it."

"Preston, I can't be mad at you, but I sure want to be," returned Rock, resigning himself.

"Set down," said the rancher. "You'll shore be goin' in to town with the rest of the outfit. They're leavin' day after tomorrow. Thet reminds me. I run into thet pretty Mrs. Dabb, an' she said to tell you to be shore an' come to her dance. She's havin' the new town hall decorated."

"Boss, you must have been a devil amongst the women, in your day," said Rock slyly. "How would you handle this particular case of mine, regardin the dance?"

"Wal, as you're a handsome cuss, you want to make the most of your chance. It's to be a masquerade, you know."

"Masquerade? I sure didn't know."

"You get yourself up in some dandy outfit. Then first off be cold to Thiry an' sweeter'n pie to your old girl. But you want to be slick, cowboy. Don't overdo it."

"Old-timer, I'm afraid I couldn't do it," replied Rock with a grimace. "It'd be funny; it'd be great, if I dared. But I think I'll rustle now, before you get me locoed. Good night."

As he opened the door abruptly he almost bumped into Ash Preston. Rock could not help wondering if Ash had been eavesdropping.

Rock awakened at dawn with an idea which must have generated in his subconscious mind while asleep. It was that he should start toward Wagontongue ahead of the Prestons. He wanted to stop long enough with Slagle to dig through the husk of that rancher's provocative reticence. Likewise, he wanted to ride over that part of the range which had been the scene of Preston's latest labours. With Preston at home and his family on the road, there would be opportunity for Rock to confirm or disprove his suspicions.

At breakfast Rock asked permission to leave that day, and it was readily given. Saddling Egypt, and leading the rested and mettlesome horse up to the cabin, Rock tied a couple of blankets behind the cantle, and rode away under the pines, without being noticed, so far as he could tell, by any of the family.

He found where the wagon had left the road to halt in the first clump of cedars, and then had gone on again, back to the road. A mile or more this side of Slagle's ranch, which was hidden in the rough hilly country west of the Flats, the wagon tracks and hoof tracks of saddle-horses turned off the road. Rock did not care to follow them until the Prestons had passed, and even then he would be extremely careful how he did follow.

To Rock's disappointment, he found that Slagle was not at home, and he could do nothing but ride on. A couple of miles down the road Rock met the wagon tracks again, coming from across the Flats. C
h
apter 8

After pondering awhile, Rock decided he might safely risk some careful scouting around, provided he left no traces and kept keen survey of the several miles of road. With this in mind he tied Egypt on hard ground, and taking to the thickest part of the cedars he mounted the hill, then went on to the summit of the ridge.

The wind carried more than heat, and as he gained his objective point he both smelled and saw dust in the air. Then something raw--an odour that was tainted!

Eagerly Rock came up behind a cedar, and from this cover he peered out and down. The slope on that side sheered steep and rough down to an open draw which appeared pale green, with a dry winding wash in the centre. It led up to a wide pocket, where yellow water gleamed. Cows were bawling. White objects flashed in the sunlight. Rock discerned a cabin and corral, covered with white spots, also men on horses and on foot. Rock slipped to his knees, and crawling to a low thick cedar bush he half buried himself in it, and peered out. The white objects were cowhides; thrown over the corral fence, and nailed on the cabin, hair side down. There were seven riders, several still sitting their saddles, the others walking around.

One of the cowboys, a tall fellow wearing a red scarf, turned same of the cowhides over to look at the under sides. Presently he and the others on foot collected in a group round their mounted comrades, and talked. Watching like a hawk, Rock convinced himself that these riders were curious about Preston's butchering business.

Presently the mounted riders galloped off, and those on foot took to their horses and followed. They rode up the ridge, westward from the cabin. The fellow with the red scarf, following last, halted on the brink of that pocket and took final survey of the scene. Then he followed after his comrades.

"Dog-gone!" muttered Rock, rolling out of his uncomfortable covert and wiping his perspiring face. "What to make of that? Maybe means nothin an then again--"

No doubt at all was there that the cowhides in plain sight over in the draw bore one of several of Preston's brands. If other stock betides Preston's had been butchered, which Rock did not doubt in the least, the hides with their tell-tale brands had of course been well hidden.

Straddling Egypt once more Rock rode down the hill toward Wagontongue. Cedars and brush grew densely at the foot of this slope, where the road crossed a culvert ever a deep wash. Rock's eyes, bent on the ground, suddenly spied the heel imprint of a rider's boot. It stopped Rock. He had seen that heel track before. Slipping out of the saddle, Rock bent to scrutinize it. And he experienced a queer little cold chill.

The impression of the heel was well defined, but the toe part was dim. It pointed off the road. Rock found another, like it, though not so plain. But for his trained eyes the trail might as well have been made in snow: It led into the coarse white grass, down over the bank, to the edge of the culvert, where it vanished.

The culvert was not the handiwork of masons. The aperture was large. Crude walls of heavy stone had been laid about ten feet high and the same distance apart. Logs and brush had been placed across the top. Above this a heavy layer of earth formed the road.

When Rock stepped into the mouth of the culvert he saw a lumpy floor, which at first glance he thought consisted of rocks lying on dried mud. A foot track, the one he was trailing, brought a low exclamation from his lips. Bending quickly with his little sticks he tried them. They fitted perfectly. Moreover, this one had been made recently.