The Rustlers of Pecos County by Zane Grey

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THE RUSTLERS OF PECOS COUNTY

By Zane Grey

1914

Chapter 1

VAUGHN STEELE AND RUSS SITTELL

In the morning, after breakfasting early, I took a turn up and down the
main street of Sanderson, made observations and got information likely
to serve me at some future day, and then I returned to the hotel ready
for what might happen.

The stage-coach was there and already full of passengers. This stage did
not go to Linrock, but I had found that another one left for that point
three days a week.

Several cowboy broncos stood hitched to a railing and a little farther
down were two buckboards, with horses that took my eye. These probably
were the teams Colonel Sampson had spoken of to George Wright.

As I strolled up, both men came out of the hotel. Wright saw me, and
making an almost imperceptible sign to Sampson, he walked toward me.

"You're the cowboy Russ?" he asked.

I nodded and looked him over. By day he made as striking a figure as I
had noted by night, but the light was not generous to his dark face.

"Here's your pay," he said, handing me some bills. "Miss Sampson won't
need you out at the ranch any more."

"What do you mean? This is the first I've heard about that."

"Sorry, kid. That's it," he said abruptly. "She just gave me the
money--told me to pay you off. You needn't bother to speak with her
about it."

He might as well have said, just as politely, that my seeing her, even
to say good-by, was undesirable.

As my luck would have it, the girls appeared at the moment, and I went
directly up to them, to be greeted in a manner I was glad George Wright
could not help but see.

In Miss Sampson's smile and "Good morning, Russ," there was not the
slightest discoverable sign that I was not to serve her indefinitely.

It was as I had expected--she knew nothing of Wright's discharging me in
her name.

"Miss Sampson," I said, in dismay, "what have I done? Why did you let me
go?"

She looked astonished.

"Russ, I don't understand you."

"Why did you discharge me?" I went on, trying to look heart-broken. "I
haven't had a chance yet. I wanted so much to work for you--Miss Sally,
what have I done? Why did she discharge me?"

"I did not," declared Miss Sampson, her dark eyes lighting.

"But look here--here's my pay," I went on, exhibiting the money. "Mr.
Wright just came to me--said you sent this money--that you wouldn't need
me out at the ranch."

It was Miss Sally then who uttered a little exclamation. Miss Sampson
seemed scarcely to have believed what she had heard.

"My cousin Mr. Wright said that?"

I nodded vehemently.

At this juncture Wright strode before me, practically thrusting me
aside.

"Come girls, let's walk a little before we start," he said gaily. "I'll
show you Sanderson."

"Wait, please," Miss Sampson replied, looking directly at him. "Cousin
George, I think there's a mistake--perhaps a misunderstanding. Here's
the cowboy I've engaged--Mr. Russ. He declares you gave him money--told
him I discharged him."

"Yes, cousin, I did," he replied, his voice rising a little. There was
a tinge of red in his cheek. "We--you don't need him out at the ranch.
We've any numbers of boys. I just told him that--let him down
easy--didn't want to bother you."

Certain it was that George Wright had made a poor reckoning. First she
showed utter amaze, then distinct disappointment, and then she lifted
her head with a kind of haughty grace. She would have addressed him
then, had not Colonel Sampson come up.

"Papa, did you instruct Cousin George to discharge Russ?" she asked.

"I sure didn't," declared the colonel, with a laugh. "George took that
upon his own hands."

"Indeed! I'd like my cousin to understand that I'm my own mistress. I've
been accustomed to attending to my own affairs and shall continue doing
so. Russ, I'm sorry you've been treated this way. Please, in future,
take your orders from me."

"Then I'm to go to Linrock with you?" I asked.

"Assuredly. Ride with Sally and me to-day, please."

She turned away with Sally, and they walked toward the first buckboard.

Colonel Sampson found a grim enjoyment in Wright's discomfiture.

"Diane's like her mother was, George," he said. "You've made a bad start
with her."

Here Wright showed manifestation of the Sampson temper, and I took him
to be a dangerous man, with unbridled passions.

"Russ, here's my own talk to you," he said, hard and dark, leaning
toward me. "Don't go to Linrock."

"Say, Mr. Wright," I blustered for all the world like a young and
frightened cowboy, "If you threaten me I'll have you put in jail!"

Both men seemed to have received a slight shock. Wright hardly knew what
to make of my boyish speech. "Are you going to Linrock?" he asked
thickly.

I eyed him with an entirely different glance from my other fearful one.

"I should smile," was my reply, as caustic as the most reckless
cowboy's, and I saw him shake.

Colonel Sampson laid a restraining hand upon Wright. Then they both
regarded me with undisguised interest. I sauntered away.

"George, your temper'll do for you some day," I heard the colonel say.
"You'll get in bad with the wrong man some time. Hello, here are Joe and
Brick!"

Mention of these fellows engaged my attention once more.

I saw two cowboys, one evidently getting his name from his brick-red
hair. They were the roistering type, hard drinkers, devil-may-care
fellows, packing guns and wearing bold fronts--a kind that the Rangers
always called four-flushes.

However, as the Rangers' standard of nerve was high, there was room left
for cowboys like these to be dangerous to ordinary men.

The little one was Joe, and directly Wright spoke to him he turned to
look at me, and his thin mouth slanted down as he looked. Brick eyed me,
too, and I saw that he was heavy, not a hard-riding cowboy.

Here right at the start were three enemies for me--Wright and his
cowboys. But it did not matter; under any circumstances there would have
been friction between such men and me.

I believed there might have been friction right then had not Miss
Sampson called for me.

"Get our baggage, Russ," she said.

I hurried to comply, and when I had fetched it out Wright and the
cowboys had mounted their horses, Colonel Sampson was in the one
buckboard with two men I had not before observed, and the girls were
in the other.

The driver of this one was a tall, lanky, tow-headed youth, growing like
a Texas weed. We had not any too much room in the buckboard, but that
fact was not going to spoil the ride for me.

We followed the leaders through the main street, out into the open,
on to a wide, hard-packed road, showing years of travel. It headed
northwest.

To our left rose the range of low, bleak mountains I had noted
yesterday, and to our right sloped the mesquite-patched sweep of ridge
and flat.

The driver pushed his team to a fast trot, which gait surely covered
ground rapidly. We were close behind Colonel Sampson, who, from his
vehement gestures, must have been engaged in very earnest colloquy with
his companions.

The girls behind me, now that they were nearing the end of the journey,
manifested less interest in the ride, and were speculating upon Linrock,
and what it would be like. Occasionally I asked the driver a question,
and sometimes the girls did likewise; but, to my disappointment, the
ride seemed not to be the same as that of yesterday.

Every half mile or so we passed a ranch house, and as we traveled on
these ranches grew further apart, until, twelve or fifteen miles out of
Sanderson, they were so widely separated that each appeared alone on the
wild range.

We came to a stream that ran north and I was surprised to see a goodly
volume of water. It evidently flowed down from the mountain far to the
west.

Tufts of grass were well scattered over the sandy ground, but it was
high and thick, and considering the immense area in sight, there was
grazing for a million head of stock.

We made three stops in the forenoon, one at a likely place to water the
horses, the second at a chuckwagon belonging to cowboys who were riding
after stock, and the third at a small cluster of adobe and stone houses,
constituting a hamlet the driver called Sampson, named after the
Colonel. From that point on to Linrock there were only a few ranches,
each one controlling great acreage.

Early in the afternoon from a ridgetop we sighted Linrock, a green path
in the mass of gray. For the barrens of Texas it was indeed a fair
sight.

But I was more concerned with its remoteness from civilization than its
beauty. At that time in the early 'seventies, when the vast western
third of Texas was a wilderness, the pioneer had done wonders to settle
there and establish places like Linrock.

As we rolled swiftly along, the whole sweeping range was dotted with
cattle, and farther on, within a few miles of town, there were droves
of horses that brought enthusiastic praise from Miss Sampson and her
cousin.

"Plenty of room here for the long rides," I said, waving a hand at the
gray-green expanse. "Your horses won't suffer on this range."

She was delighted, and her cousin for once seemed speechless.

"That's the ranch," said the driver, pointing with his whip.

It needed only a glance for me to see that Colonel Sampson's ranch was
on a scale fitting the country.

The house was situated on the only elevation around Linrock, and it was
not high, nor more than a few minutes' walk from the edge of town.

It was a low, flat-roofed structure, made of red adobe bricks and
covered what appeared to be fully an acre of ground. All was green about
it except where the fenced corrals and numerous barns or sheds showed
gray and red.

Wright and the cowboys disappeared ahead of us in the cottonwood trees.
Colonel Sampson got out of the buckboard and waited for us. His face
wore the best expression I had seen upon it yet. There was warmth and
love, and something that approached sorrow or regret.

His daughter was agitated, too. I got out and offered my seat, which
Colonel Sampson took.

It was scarcely a time for me to be required, or even noticed at all,
and I took advantage of it and turned toward the town.

Ten minutes of leisurely walking brought me to the shady outskirts of
Linrock and I entered the town with mingled feelings of curiosity,
eagerness, and expectation.

The street I walked down was not a main one. There were small, red
houses among oaks and cottonwoods.

I went clear through to the other side, probably more than half a mile.
I crossed a number of intersecting streets, met children, nice-looking
women, and more than one dusty-booted man.

Half-way back this street I turned at right angles and walked up several
blocks till I came to a tree-bordered plaza. On the far side opened a
broad street which for all its horses and people had a sleepy look.

I walked on, alert, trying to take in everything, wondering if I would
meet Steele, wondering how I would know him if we did meet. But I
believed I could have picked that Ranger out of a thousand strangers,
though I had never seen him.

Presently the residences gave place to buildings fronting right upon the
stone sidewalk. I passed a grain store, a hardware store, a grocery
store, then several unoccupied buildings and a vacant corner.

The next block, aside from the rough fronts of the crude structures,
would have done credit to a small town even in eastern Texas. Here was
evidence of business consistent with any prosperous community of two
thousand inhabitants.

The next block, on both sides of the street, was a solid row of saloons,
resorts, hotels. Saddled horses stood hitched all along the sidewalk in
two long lines, with a buckboard and team here and there breaking the
continuity. This block was busy and noisy.

From all outside appearances, Linrock was no different from other
frontier towns, and my expectations were scarcely realized.

As the afternoon was waning I retraced my steps and returned to the
ranch. The driver boy, whom I had heard called Dick, was looking for
me, evidently at Miss Sampson's order, and he led me up to the house.

It was even bigger than I had conceived from a distance, and so old that
the adobe bricks were worn smooth by rain and wind. I had a glimpse in
at several doors as we passed by.

There was comfort here that spoke eloquently of many a freighter's trip
from Del Rio. For the sake of the young ladies, I was glad to see things
little short of luxurious for that part of the country.

At the far end of the house Dick conducted me to a little room, very
satisfactory indeed to me. I asked about bunk-houses for the cowboys,
and he said they were full to overflowing.

"Colonel Sampson has a big outfit, eh?"

"Reckon he has," replied Dick. "Don' know how many cowboys. They're
always comin' an' goin'. I ain't acquainted with half of them."

"Much movement of stock these days?"

"Stock's always movin'," he replied with a queer look.

"Rustlers?"

But he did not follow up that look with the affirmative I expected.

"Lively place, I hear--Linrock is?"

"Ain't so lively as Sanderson, but it's bigger."

"Yes, I heard it was. Fellow down there was talking about two cowboys
who were arrested."

"Sure. I heerd all about thet. Joe Bean an' Brick Higgins--they belong
heah, but they ain't heah much."

I did not want Dick to think me overinquisitive, so I turned the talk
into other channels. It appeared that Miss Sampson had not left any
instructions for me, so I was glad to go with Dick to supper, which we
had in the kitchen.

Dick informed me that the cowboys prepared their own meals down at the
bunks; and as I had been given a room at the ranch-house he supposed I
would get my meals there, too.

After supper I walked all over the grounds, had a look at the horses in
the corrals, and came to the conclusion that it would be strange if Miss
Sampson did not love her new home, and if her cousin did not enjoy her
sojourn there. From a distance I saw the girls approaching with Wright,
and not wishing to meet them I sheered off.

When the sun had set I went down to the town with the intention of
finding Steele.

This task, considering I dared not make inquiries and must approach him
secretly, might turn out to be anything but easy.

While it was still light, I strolled up and down the main street. When
darkness set in I went into a hotel, bought cigars, sat around and
watched, without any clue.

Then I went into the next place. This was of a rough crude exterior, but
the inside was comparatively pretentious, and ablaze with lights.

It was full of men, coming and going--a dusty-booted crowd that smelled
of horses and smoke.

I sat down for a while, with wide eyes and open ears. Then I hunted up a
saloon, where most of the guests had been or were going. I found a great
square room lighted by six huge lamps, a bar at one side, and all the
floor space taken up by tables and chairs.

This must have been the gambling resort mentioned in the Ranger's letter
to Captain Neal and the one rumored to be owned by the mayor of Linrock.
This was the only gambling place of any size in southern Texas in which
I had noted the absence of Mexicans. There was some card playing going
on at this moment.

I stayed in there for a while, and knew that strangers were too common
in Linrock to be conspicuous. But I saw no man whom I could have taken
for Steele.

Then I went out.

It had often been a boast of mine that I could not spend an hour in
a strange town, or walk a block along a dark street, without having
something happen out of the ordinary.

Mine was an experiencing nature. Some people called this luck. But it
was my private opinion that things gravitated my way because I looked
and listened for them.

However, upon the occasion of my first day and evening in Linrock it
appeared, despite my vigilance and inquisitiveness, that here was to be
an exception.

This thought came to me just before I reached the last lighted place in
the block, a little dingy restaurant, out of which at the moment, a
tall, dark form passed. It disappeared in the gloom. I saw a man sitting
on the low steps, and another standing in the door.

"That was the fellow the whole town's talkin' about--the Ranger," said
one man.

Like a shot I halted in the shadow, where I had not been seen.

"Sho! Ain't boardin' heah, is he?" said the other.

"Yes."

"Reckon he'll hurt your business, Jim."

The fellow called Jim emitted a mirthless laugh. "Wal, he's been _all_
my business these days. An' he's offered to rent that old 'dobe of mine
just out of town. You know, where I lived before movin' in heah. He's
goin' to look at it to-morrow."

"Lord! does he expect to _stay_?"

"Say so. An' if he ain't a stayer I never seen none. Nice, quiet, easy
chap, but he just looks deep."

"Aw, Jim, he can't hang out heah. He's after some feller, that's all."

"I don't know his game. But he says he was heah for a while. An' he
impressed me some. Just now he says: 'Where does Sampson live?' I asked
him if he was goin' to make a call on our mayor, an' he says yes. Then I
told him how to go out to the ranch. He went out, headed that way."

"The hell he did!"

I gathered from this fellow's exclamation that he was divided between
amaze and mirth. Then he got up from the steps and went into the
restaurant and was followed by the man called Jim. Before the door
was closed he made another remark, but it was unintelligible to me.

As I passed on I decided I would scrape acquaintance with this
restaurant keeper.

The thing of most moment was that I had gotten track of Steele. I
hurried ahead. While I had been listening back there moments had elapsed
and evidently he had walked swiftly.

I came to the plaza, crossed it, and then did not know which direction
to take. Concluding that it did not matter I hurried on in an endeavor
to reach the ranch before Steele. Although I was not sure, I believed I
had succeeded.

The moon shone brightly. I heard a banjo in the distance and a cowboy
sing. There was not a person in sight in the wide courts or on the
porch. I did not have a well-defined idea about the inside of the house.

Peeping in at the first lighted window I saw a large room. Miss Sampson
and Sally were there alone. Evidently this was a parlor or a sitting
room, and it had clean white walls, a blanketed floor, an open fireplace
with a cheery blazing log, and a large table upon which were lamp,
books, papers. Backing away I saw that this corner room had a door
opening on the porch and two other windows.

I listened, hoping to hear Steele's footsteps coming up the road. But I
heard only Sally's laugh and her cousin's mellow voice.

Then I saw lighted windows down at the other end of the front part of
the house. I walked down. A door stood open and through it I saw a room
identical with that at the other corner; and here were Colonel Sampson,
Wright, and several other men, all smoking and talking.

It might have been interesting to tarry there within ear-shot, but I
wanted to get back to the road to intercept Steele. Scarcely had I
retraced my steps and seated myself on the porch steps when a very tall
dark figure loomed up in the moonlit road.

Steele! I wanted to yell like a boy. He came on slowly, looking all
around, halted some twenty paces distant, surveyed the house, then
evidently espying me, came on again.

My first feeling was, What a giant! But his face was hidden in the
shadow of a sombrero.

I had intended, of course, upon first sight to blurt out my identity.
Yet I did not. He affected me strangely, or perhaps it was my emotion at
the thought that we Rangers, with so much in common and at stake, had
come together.

"Is Sampson at home?" he asked abruptly.

I said, "Yes."

"Ask him if he'll see Vaughn Steele, Ranger."

"Wait here," I replied. I did not want to take up any time then
explaining my presence there.

Deliberately and noisily I strode down the porch and entered the room
with the smoking men.

I went in farther than was necessary for me to state my errand. But I
wanted to see Sampson's face, to see into his eyes.

As I entered, the talking ceased. I saw no face except his and that
seemed blank.

"Vaughn Steele, Ranger--come to see you, sir." I announced.

Did Sampson start--did his eyes show a fleeting glint--did his face
almost imperceptibly blanch? I could not have sworn to either. But there
was a change, maybe from surprise.

The first sure effect of my announcement came in a quick exclamation
from Wright, a sibilant intake of breath, that did not seem to denote
surprise so much as certainty. Wright might have emitted a curse with
less force.

Sampson moved his hand significantly and the action was a voiceless
command for silence as well as an assertion that he would attend to this
matter. I read him clearly so far. He had authority, and again I felt
his power.

"Steele to see me. Did he state his business?"

"No, sir." I replied.

"Russ, say I'm not at home," said Sampson presently, bending over to
relight his pipe.

I went out. Someone slammed the door behind me.

As I strode back across the porch my mind worked swiftly; the machinery
had been idle for a while and was now started.

"Mr. Steele," I said, "Colonel Sampson says he's not at home. Tell your
business to his daughter."

Without waiting to see the effect of my taking so much upon myself, I
knocked upon the parlor door. Miss Sampson opened it. She wore white.
Looking at her, I thought it would be strange if Steele's well-known
indifference to women did not suffer an eclipse.

"Miss Sampson, here is Vaughn Steele to see you," I said.

"Won't you come in?" she said graciously.

Steele had to bend his head to enter the door. I went in with him, an
intrusion, perhaps, that in the interest of the moment she appeared not
to notice.

Steele seemed to fill the room with his giant form. His face was fine,
stern, clear cut, with blue or gray eyes, strangely penetrating. He was
coatless, vestless. He wore a gray flannel shirt, corduroys, a big gun
swinging low, and top boots reaching to his knees.

He was the most stalwart son of Texas I had seen in many a day, but
neither his great stature nor his striking face accounted for something
I felt--a something spiritual, vital, compelling, that drew me.

"Mr. Steele, I'm pleased to meet you," said Miss Sampson. "This is my
cousin, Sally Langdon. We just arrived--I to make this my home, she to
visit me."

Steele smiled as he bowed to Sally. He was easy, with a kind of rude
grace, and showed no sign of embarrassment or that beautiful girls were
unusual to him.

"Mr. Steele, we've heard of you in Austin," said Sally with her eyes
misbehaving.

I hoped I would not have to be jealous of Steele. But this girl was a
little minx if not altogether a flirt.

"I did not expect to be received by ladies," replied Steele. "I called
upon Mr. Sampson. He would not see me. I was to tell my business to his
daughter. I'm glad to know you, Miss Sampson and your cousin, but sorry
you've come to Linrock now."

"Why?" queried both girls in unison.

"Because it's--oh, pretty rough--no place for girls to walk and ride."

"Ah! I see. And your business has to do with rough places," said Miss
Sampson. "Strange that papa would not see you. Stranger that he should
want me to hear your business. Either he's joking or wants to impress
me.

"Papa tried to persuade me not to come. He tried to frighten me with
tales of this--this roughness out here. He knows I'm in earnest, how I'd
like to help somehow, do some little good. Pray tell me this business."

"I wished to get your father's cooperation in my work."

"Your work? You mean your Ranger duty--the arresting of rough
characters?"

"That, yes. But that's only a detail. Linrock is bad internally. My job
is to make it good."

"A splendid and worthy task," replied Miss Sampson warmly. "I wish you
success. But, Mr. Steele, aren't you exaggerating Linrock's wickedness?"

"No," he answered forcibly.

"Indeed! And papa refused to see you--presumably refused to cooperate
with you?" she asked thoughtfully.

"I take it that way."

"Mr. Steele, pray tell me what is the matter with Linrock and just
what the work is you're called upon to do?" she asked seriously. "I
heard papa say that he was the law in Linrock. Perhaps he resents
interference. I know he'll not tolerate any opposition to his will.
Please tell me. I may be able to influence him."

I listened to Steele's deep voice as he talked about Linrock. What he
said was old to me, and I gave heed only to its effect.

Miss Sampson's expression, which at first had been earnest and grave,
turned into one of incredulous amaze. She, and Sally too, watched
Steele's face in fascinated attention.

When it came to telling what he wanted to do, the Ranger warmed to his
subject; he talked beautifully, convincingly, with a certain strange,
persuasive power that betrayed how he worked his way; and his fine face,
losing its stern, hard lines, seemed to glow and give forth a spirit
austere, yet noble, almost gentle, assuredly something vastly different
from what might have been expected in the expression of a gun-fighting
Ranger. I sensed that Miss Sampson felt this just as I did.

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