Charles Alden Seltzer

“ To no man in the outfit did Randerson whisper a word concerning the result of his visit to the ranchhouse—that he would cease to be the Flying W range boss just as soon as Ruth Harkness could find a man to replace him. He went his way, thoughtful, silent, grave, filled with somber thoughts and dark passions that sometimes flashed in his eyes, but taking no man into his confidence. ”

“ Randerson’s face was white and set, now. He was facing death at the hands of a man whom he had befriended many times. He did not know Catherson’s motive in coming here, but he knew that the slightest insincere word; a tone too light or too gruff, the most insignificant hostile movement, would bring about a quick pressure of the trigger of Catherson’s pistol. Diplomacy would not answer; it must be a battle of the spirit; naked courage alone could save him, could keep that big finger on the trigger from movement until he could discover Catherson’s motive in coming to kill him. ”

“ For an instant there was no movement in the vast realm of space except the terrific thunder of Patches’ hoofs as they spurned the hard alkali level over which he was running; the squeaking protests of the saddle leather, and Randerson’s low voice as he coaxed the pony to greater speed. But Patches had reached the limit of effort, was giving his rider his last ounce of strength, and he closed the gap between himself and the girl with whirlwind rapidity. ”

“ She landed on all fours and pitched headlong, face down, in the dust, but was up instantly and running toward her pony.
Seizing the bridle, she looped it through her arm, and then, pulling at the animal, she ran to where the horses of the two men stood, watching her, and snorting with astonishment and fright. With hands that trembled more than a little, she threw the reins over their heads, so that they might not drag, and then, using the quirt, dangling from her wrist by a rawhide thong, she turned their heads toward the declivity and lashed them furiously. ”

“ Her arm stole out and was placed on Hagar’s shoulder.
“I haven’t fooled you, Hagar,” she said; “have I?”
“No, ma’am.” Her lips quivered. She glanced furtively at Ruth, and a half frightened, half dreading look came into her eyes. “Nobody’s fooled me,” she added with a nervous laugh. “I was just feelin’ sorta dumpish, I reckon.”
“You mustn’t brood, you know,” consoled Ruth. “It ruins character.”
“What’s character?”
“Why—why,” hesitated Ruth, “the thing that makes you yourself—apart from every other person; your reputation; the good that is in you—the good you feel.” ”

“ Again the pony stiffened, and again the steer went down with a thud. This time, while it struggled on the ground, Randerson gave the rope a quick flirt, making undulation that ran from his hand to the loop around the steer’s leg, loosening it. And when the beast again scrambled to its feet it trotted off, free, head and tail in the air, grunting with relief. ”

“ I do not like Randerson at all. He is my range boss—that is all. A murderer could never be a friend to me.”
A shadow came over Hagar’s face. “Rex Randerson has got a clean heart,” she said slowly. She stood looking at Ruth, disappointment plain in her eyes. The disappointment was quickly succeeded by suspicion; she caught her breath, and the hands that were under her apron gripped each other hard.
“I reckon you’ll take up with Masten again,” she said, trying to control her voice.
Ruth looked intently at her, but she did not notice the girl’s emotion through her interest in her words. ”

“ But her joy was brief; she had only put the tragedy out of her mind for an instant. It returned, and her lips quavered.
“I killed Chavis, Randerson,” she said, looking up at him with a pitiful smile. “I have learned what it means to—to take—human life. I killed him, Rex! I shot him down just as he was about to spring upon me! But I had to do it—didn’t I?” she pleaded. “I—I couldn’t help it. I kept him off as long as I could—and nobody came—and he looked so terrible—”
“I reckon you’ve got things mixed, ma’am.” Randerson met her puzzled look at him with a grave smile. ”

“ As Randerson rode Patches through the break in the canyon wall in the afternoon of a day about a week after his talk with Uncle Jepson in the bunkhouse, he was thinking of the visit he intended to make. He had delayed it long. He had not seen Abe Catherson since taking his new job.
“I reckon he’ll think I’m right unneighborly,” he said to himself as he rode.
When he reached the nester’s cabin, the dog Nig greeted him with vociferous affection, bringing Hagar to the door.
“Oh, it’s Rex!” cried the girl delightedly. And then, reproachfully: “Me an’ dad allowed you wasn’t comin’ any more!” ”

“ They veered the herd toward the river and drove it past the ranchhouse and into a grass level that stretched for miles. It was near noon 83 when the chuck wagon came to a halt near the bunkhouse door, and from the porch of her house Ruth witnessed a scene that she had been anticipating since her first day in the West—a group of cowboys at play.
Did these men of the plains know that their new boss had been wanting to see them in their unrestrained moments? They acted like boys—more mischievous than boys in their most frolicsome moods. ”

“ She looked quickly at him; he appeared to be unconcernedly inspecting the ranchhouse. Perhaps, after all, there was nothing wrong with these men. Certainly, being a man himself, Masten should be able to tell.
And so she felt a little more at ease.
“I’m glad to meet you, Mr. Chavis,” she said. “Your friend Mr. Pickett too.” She indicated Masten with a nod of her head toward him. “This is Mr. Willard Masten, a very dear friend of mine.” The color in her face deepened with the words.
Chavis had looked twice at Masten before Ruth spoke. He looked again now, meeting the Easterner’s eyes. ”

“ Hagar stood rigid on the porch until she could no longer see Ruth. Then she sank to the edge of the porch, gathered the dog Nig into her arms, and buried her face in his unkempt shoulder. Rocking back and forth in a paroxysm of impotent passion, she spoke to the dog:
“I can’t kill him now, Nig, he’s goin’ to marry her! Oh Nig, Nig, what am I goin’ to do now?” And then she looked up scornfully, her eyes flashing. “She won’t let Rex be a friend of hers, because he’s killed two men that God had ought to have killed a long while ago! But she’ll marry Masten—who ain’t fit to be Rex’s dog. ”

“ But there was no thought of the dramatic in Randerson’s mind as he stood there—nothing but cold hatred and determination—nothing except a bitter wish that the man on the pony would reach for his gun and thus make his task easier for him.
The hoped-for movement did not come, and Randerson spoke shortly:
“Get off your cayuse!”
Masten obeyed silently, his knees shaking under him. Was it to be another fist fight? Randerson’s voice broke in on this thought:
“I promised to kill you. You’re a thing that sneaks around at night on its belly, an’ you ought to be killed. ”

“ For an instant Randerson’s eyes lighted with a deep fire. And then he smiled mirthlessly.
“I reckon Mr. Masten ain’t never had anybody stir him up right proper,” he said mildly. “It takes different things to get a man riled so’s he’ll fight—or a woman, either. Either of ’em will fight when the right thing gets them roused. I expect that deep down in everybody is a little of that brute that you’re talkin’ about. I reckon you’d fight like a tiger, ma’am, if the time ever come when you had to.” ”

“ And when he saw the shoulder of his gun-arm move, his own right hand dropped, surely, swiftly. Kelso’s gun had snagged in its holster years before. It came freely enough now. But its glitter at his side was met by the roar and flame spurt of Randerson’s heavy six, the thumb snap on the hammer telling of the lack of a trigger spring, the position of the weapon indicating that it had not been drawn from its holster.
Apparently not a man in the outfit had noticed this odd performance, though they had been held with dumb astonishment over the rapidity with which it had been executed. ”

“ Randerson had become a compelling figure that dominated her thoughts. But this second killing! She could no longer interpret the steady, serene gleam in his eyes as mild confidence and frank directness; as she saw them now they reflected hypocrisy—the cold, designing cunning of the habitual taker of human life. ”

“ Yet he could not permit Kester and Chavis to think they could repeat the offense with impunity. That would be an indication of impotence, of servile yielding to the feminine edict that had already gone forth, and behind which Chavis and his men were even now hiding—the decree of the 189 Flying W owner that there should be no taking of human life. His lips twisted crookedly as on the morning of the day following his adventure with Ruth and the recreant pony he mounted his own animal and rode away from the outfit without telling any of them where he was going. ”

“ Ruth was gratified. These men were rough, but they had been quick to recognize and appreciate Masten’s good qualities. They had gone more than half way in welcoming him. Of course, there was Chavis’ bold allusion to a “pretty woman,” but the very uncouthness of the men must be the explanation for that breach of etiquette. She was much relieved.
Masten was suave and solicitous. He jumped out of the buckboard and helped her down, performing a like service for Aunt Martha. Uncle Jepson got out himself. Then, as Ruth hesitated an instant, Masten bent over her. ”

“ Ruth halted her pony, and was debating whether to call out or to ride boldly up, when a dog came out of the door of the cabin, growling, its hair bristling belligerently. The dog was big, black, and undoubtedly savage, for the pony instantly wheeled, and when the dog came closer, lashed out with both hind hoofs at it.
“Nig, you ol’ duffer, git in hyeh where you b’long! Can’t you see that that there’s a lady!” ”

“ The lean face of the rider was close to his own, the rider’s eyes were steady, blue, and so cold that they made Masten forget the chill in the air. And one of the heavy pistols that the rider carried was close to Masten’s head, its big muzzle gaping forebodingly at him, and the rider’s voice, as he leaned from the saddle, came tense and low. The girl could not hear:
“Listen to this gospel, you mud-wallowin’ swine,” he said. “This is a man’s country, an’ you play a man’s game or you lose out so quick it’ll make you dizzy! ”

“ There was a threat of death in it:
“You can tell Miss Ruth that you’re never goin’ to play the skunk with a woman ag’in!”
Pickett writhed. But it seemed to Ruth, as her gaze shifted from Randerson to him, that Pickett’s manner was not what it should be. He was not embarrassed enough, did not seem to feel his disgrace keenly enough. For though he twisted and squirmed under the threat in Randerson’s voice, there was an odd smirk on his face that impressed her as nearly concealing a malignant cunning. ”

“ And so when she saw him ride up to the porch and bring his pony to a halt, she laid her sewing in her lap, folded her hands over it, and watched him with outward calmness, though with a vague sorrow gripping her. For in spite of what he had done, she still felt the man’s strong personality, his virility—the compelling lure of him. She experienced a quick, involuntary tightening of the muscles when she heard his voice—for it intensified the regret in her—low, drawling, gentle:
“I have come in to report to you, ma’am.” ”

“ That first day at the ranchhouse was the beginning of a new existence for Ruth. Bound for years by the narrow restrictions and conventionality of the Poughkeepsie countryside, she found the spaciousness and newness of this life 45 inviting and satisfying. Here there seemed to be no limit, either to the space or to the flights that one’s soul might take, and in the solemn grandeur of the open she felt the omnipotence of God and the spell of nature. ”

“ They would never catch her. Twice, after she entered the broken stretch she looked back, but could see no sign of them. She did not know that at that moment Chavis and Kester, enraged and disgusted over the trick she had played on them, were riding slowly through the valley toward their shack. 157
She was almost through the broken stretch when the pony stumbled. She pulled quickly on the reins, and the pony straightened. But instantly she felt its forelegs stiffen, felt it slide; the thought came to her that it must have slid on a flat rock or a treacherous stretch of lava. ”