XIII. The Sombre Line

by Zane Grey

　　AUGUST NAAB hoped that Mescal might have returned in his absence; but toHare such hope was vain. The women of the oasis met them with gloomyfaces presaging bad news, and they were reluctant to tell it. Mescal'sflight had been forgotten in the sterner and sadder misfortune that hadfollowed.

　　Snap Naab's wife lay dangerously ill, the victim of his drunken frenzy.For days after the departure of August and Jack the man had kept himselfin a stupor; then his store of drink failing, he had come out of hisalmost senseless state into an insane frenzy. He had tried to kill hiswife and wreck his cottage, being prevented in the nick of time by DaveNaab, the only one of his brothers who dared approach him. Then he hadridden off on the White Sage trail and had not been heard from since.

　　The Mormon put forth all his skill in surgery and medicine to save thelife of his son's wife, but he admitted that he had grave misgivings asto her recovery. But these in no manner affected his patience,gentleness, and cheer. While there was life there was hope, said AugustNaab. He bade Hare, after he had rested awhile, to pack and ride out tothe range, and tell his sons that he would come later.

　　It was a relief to leave the oasis, and Hare started the same day, andmade Silver Cup that night. As he rode under the low-branching cedarstoward the bright camp-fire he looked about him sharply. But not one ofthe four faces ruddy in the glow belonged to Snap Naab.

　　"Hello, Jack," called Dave Naab, into the dark. "I knew that was you.Silvermane sure rings bells when he hoofs it down the stones. How're youand dad? and did you find Mescal? I'll bet that desert child led youclear to the Little Colorado."

　　Hare told the story of the fruitless search.

　　"It's no more than we expected," said Dave. "The man doesn't live whocan trail the peon. Mescal's like a captured wild mustang that's slippedher halter and gone free. She'll die out there on the desert or turninto a stalk of the Indian cactus for which she's named. It's a pity,for she's a good girl, too good for Snap."

　　"What's your news?" inquired Hare.

　　"Oh, nothing much," replied Dave, with a short laugh. "The cattlewintered well. We've had little to do but hang round and watch. Zekeand I chased old Whitefoot one day, and got pretty close to SeepingSprings. We met Joe Stube, a rider who was once a friend of Zeke's.He's with Holderness now, and he said that Holderness had rebuilt thecorrals at the spring; also he has put up a big cabin, and he has a dozenriders there. Stube told us Snap had been shooting up White Sage. Hefinished up by killing Snood. They got into an argument about you."

　　"About me!"

　　"Yes, it seems that Snood took your part, and Snap wouldn't stand for it.Too bad! Snood was a good fellow. There's no use talking, Snap's goingtoo far--he is--" Dave did not conclude his remark, and the silence wasmore significant than any utterance.

　　"What will the Mormons in White Sage say about Snap's killing Snood?"

　　"They've said a lot. This even-break business goes all right amonggun-fighters, but the Mormons call killing murder. They've outlawedCulver, and Snap will be outlawed next."

　　"Your father hinted that Snap would find the desert too small for him andme?"

　　"Jack, you can't be too careful. I've wanted to speak to you about it.Snap will ride in here some day and then--" Dave's pause was notreassuring.

　　And it was only on the third day after Dave's remark that Hare, ridingdown the mountain with a deer he had shot, looked out from the trail andsaw Snap's cream pinto trotting toward Silver Cup. Beside Snap rode atall man on a big bay. When Hare reached camp he reported to George andZeke what he had seen, and learned in reply that Dave had already caughtsight of the horsemen, and had gone down to the edge of the cedars.While they were speaking Dave hurriedly ran up the trail.

　　"It's Snap and Holderness," he called out, sharply "What's Snap doingwith Holderness? What's he bringing him here for?"

　　"I don't like the looks of it," replied Zeke, deliberately.

　　"Jack, what what'll you do?" asked Dave, suddenly

　　"Do? What can I do? I'm not going to run out of camp because of a visitfrom men who don't like me."

　　"It might be wisest."

　　"Do you ask me to run to avoid a meeting with your brother?"

　　"No." The dull red came to Dave's cheek. "But will you draw on him?"

　　"Certainly not. He's August Naab's son and your brother."

　　"Yes, and you're my friend, which Snap won't think of. Will you draw onHolderness, then?"

　　"For the life of me, Dave, I can't tell you," replied Hare, pacing thetrail. "Something must break loose in me before I can kill a man. I'ddraw, I suppose, in self-defence. But what good would it do me to pulltoo late? Dave, this thing is what I've feared. I'm not afraid of Snapor Holderness, not that way. I mean I'm not ready. Look here, wouldeither of them shoot an unarmed man?"

　　"Lord, I hope not; I don't think so. But you're packing your gun."

　　Hare unbuckled his cartridge-belt, which held his Colt, and hung it overthe pommel of his saddle; then he sat down on one of the stone seats nearthe camp-fire.

　　"There they come," whispered Zeke, and he rose to his feet, followed byGeorge.

　　"Steady, you fellows," said Dave, with a warning glance. "I'll do thetalking."

　　Holderness and Snap appeared among the cedars, and trotting out into theglade reined in their mounts a few paces from the fire. Dave Naab stooddirectly before Hare, and George and Zeke stepped aside.

　　"Howdy, boys?" called out Holderness, with a smile, which was like agleam of light playing on a frozen lake. His amber eyes were steady,their gaze contracted into piercing yellow points. Dave studied thecattle-man with cool scorn, but refusing to speak to him, addressed hisbrother.

　　"Snap, what do you mean by riding in here with this fellow?"

　　"I'm Holderness's new foreman. We're just looking round," replied Snap.The hard lines, the sullen shade the hawk-beak cruelty had returnedtenfold to his face and his glance was like a living, leaping flame.

　　"New foreman!" exclaimed Dave. His jaw dropped and he stared inamazement. "No--you can't mean that--you're drunk!"

　　"That's what I said," growled Snap.

　　"You're a liar!" shouted Dave, a crimson blot blurring with the brown onhis cheeks. He jumped off the ground m his fury.

　　"It's true, Naab; he's my new foreman," put in Holderness, suavely. "Ahundred a month--in gold--and I've got as good a place for you."

　　"Well, by G--d!" Dave's arms came down and his face blanched to his lips."Holderness!"

　　"I know what you'd say," interrupted the ranchman.

　　"But stop it. I know you're game. And what's the use of fighting? I'mtalking business. I'll--"

　　"You can't talk business or anything else to me," said Dave Naab, and heveered sharply toward his brother. "Say it again, Snap Naab. You'vehired out to ride for this man?"

　　"That's it."

　　"You're going against your father, your brothers, your own flesh andblood?"

　　"I can't see it that way."

　　"Then you're a drunken, easily-led fool. This man's no rancher. He's arustler. He ruined Martin Cole, the father of your first wife. He'sstolen our cattle; he's jumped our water-rights. He's trying to breakus. For God's sake, ain't you a man?"

　　"Things have gone bad for me," replied Snap, sullenly, shifting in hissaddle. "I reckon I'll do better to cut out alone for myself."

　　"You crooked cur! But you're only my half-brother, after all. I alwaysknew you'd come to something bad, but I never thought you'd disgrace theNaabs and break your father's heart. Now then, what do you want here?Be quick. This's our range and you and your boss can't ride here. Youcan't even water your horses. Out with it!"

　　At this, Hare, who had been so absorbed as to forget himself, suddenlyfelt a cold tightening of the skin of his face, and a hard swell of hisbreast. The dance of Snap's eyes, the downward flit of his hand seemedinstantaneous with a red flash and loud report. Instinctively Haredodged, but the light impact of something like a puff of air gave placeto a tearing hot agony. Then he slipped down, back to the stone, with abloody hand fumbling at his breast.

　　Dave leaped with tigerish agility, and knocking up the levelled Colt,held Snap as in a vise. George Naab gave Holderness's horse a sharp kickwhich made the mettlesome beast jump so suddenly that his rider wasnearly unseated. Zeke ran to Hare and laid him back against the stone.

　　"Cool down, there!" ordered Zeke. "He's done for."

　　"My God--my God!" cried Dave, in a broken voice. "Not--not dead?"

　　"Shot through the heart!"

　　Dave Naab flung Snap backward, almost off his horse. "D--n you! run, orI'll kill you. And you, Holderness! Remember! If we ever meet again--youdraw!" He tore a branch from a cedar and slashed both horses. Theyplunged out of the glade, and clattering over the stones, brushing thecedars, disappeared. Dave groped blindly back toward his brothers.

　　"Zeke, this's awful. Another murder by Snap! And my friend! . . .Who's to tell father?"

　　Then Hare sat up, leaning against the stone, his shirt open and his bareshoulder bloody; his face was pale, but his eyes were smiling. "Cheerup, Dave. I'm not dead yet."

　　"Sure he's not," said Zeke. "He ducked none too soon, or too late, andcaught the bullet high up in the shoulder."

　　Dave sat down very quietly without a word, and the hand he laid on Hare'sknee shook a little.

　　"When I saw George go for his gun," went on Zeke, "I knew there'd be alively time in a minute if it wasn't stopped, so I just said Jack wasdead."

　　"Do you think they came over to get me?" asked Hare.

　　"No doubt," replied Dave, lifting his face and wiping the sweat from hisbrow. "I knew that from the first, but I was so dazed by Snap's goingover to Holderness that I couldn't keep my wits, and I didn't mark Snapedging over till too late."

　　"Listen, I hear horses," said Zeke, looking up from his task over Hare'swound.

　　"It's Billy, up on the home trail," added George "Yes, and there's fatherwith him. Good Lord, must we tell him about Snap?"

　　"Some one must tell him," answered Dave.

　　"That'll be you, then. You always do the talking."

　　August Naab galloped into the glade, and swung himself out of the saddle."I heard a shot. What's this? Who's hurt?--Hare! Why--lad--how is itwith you?"

　　"Not bad," rejoined Hare.

　　"Let me see," August thrust Zeke aside. "A bullet-hole--just missed thebone--not serious. Tie it up tight. I'll take him home to-morrow. . . .Hare, who's been here?"

　　"Snap rode in and left his respects."

　　"Snap! Already? Yet I knew it--I saw it. You had Providence with you,lad, for this wound is not bad. Snap surprised you, then?"

　　"No. I knew it was coming."

　　"Jack hung his belt and gun on Silvermane's saddle," said Dave. "Hedidn't feel as if he could draw on either Snap or Holderness--"

　　"Holderness!"

　　"Yes. Snap rode in with Holderness. Hare thought if he was unarmed theywouldn't draw. But Snap did."

　　"Was he drunk?"

　　"No. They came over to kill Hare." Dave went on to recount the incidentin full. "And--and see here, dad--that's not all. Snap's gone to thebad."

　　Dave Naab hid his face while he told of his brother's treachery; theothers turned away, and Hare closes his eyes.

　　For long moments there was silence broken only by the tramp of the oldman as he strode heavily to and fro. At last the footsteps ceased, andHare opened his eyes to see Naab's tall form erect, his arms uplifted,his shaggy head rigid.

　　"Hare," began August, presently. "I'm responsible for this cowardlyattack on you. I brought you out here. This is the second one. Bewareof the third! I see--but tell me, do you remember that I said you mustmeet Snap as man to man?"

　　"Yes."

　　"Don't you want to live?"

　　"Of course."

　　"You hold to no Mormon creed?"

　　"Why, no," Hare replied, wonderingly.

　　"What was the reason I taught you my trick with a gun?"

　　"I suppose it was to help me to defend myself."

　　"Then why do you let yourself be shot down in cold blood? Why did youhang up your gun? Why didn't you draw on Snap? Was it because of hisfather, his brothers, his family?"

　　"Partly, but not altogether," replied Hare, slowly. "I didn't knowbefore what I know now. My flesh sickened at the thought of killing aman, even to save my own life; and to kill--your son--"

　　"No son of mine!" thundered Naab. "Remember that when next you meet. Idon't want your blood on my hands. Don't stand to be killed like asheep! If you have felt duty to me, I release you."

　　Zeke finished bandaging the wound. Making a bed of blankets he liftedHare into it, and covered him, cautioning him to lie still. Hare had asensation of extreme lassitude, a deep drowsiness which permeated even tohis bones. There were intervals of oblivion, then a time when the starsblinked in his eyes; he heard the wind, Silvermane's bell, the murmur ofvoices, yet all seemed remote from him, intangible as things in a dream.

　　He rode home next day, drooping in the saddle and fainting at the end ofthe trail, with the strong arm of August Naab upholding him. His woundwas dressed and he was put to bed, where he lay sleeping most of thetime, brooding the rest.

　　In three weeks he was in the saddle again, riding out over the red stripof desert toward the range. During his convalescence he had learned thathe had come to the sombre line of choice. Either he must deliberatelyback away, and show his unfitness to survive in the desert, or he muststep across into its dark wilds. The stern question haunted him. Yet heknew a swift decision waited on the crucial moment.

　　He sought lonely rides more than ever, and, like Silvermane, he wasalways watching and listening. His duties carried him half way toSeeping Springs, across the valley to the red wall, up the slope ofCoconina far into the forest of stately pines. What with Silvermane'swonderful scent and sight, and his own constant watchfulness, there werenever range-riders or wild horses nor even deer near him without hisknowledge.

　　The days flew by; spring had long since given place to summer; the blazeof sun and blast of flying sand were succeeded by the cooling breezesfrom the mountain; October brought the flurries of snow and November thedark storm-clouds.

　　Hare was the last of the riders to be driven off the mountain. Thebrothers were waiting for him at Silver Cup, and they at once packed andstarted for home.

　　August Naab listened to the details of the range-riding since hisabsence, with silent surprise. Holderness and Snap had kept away fromSilver Cup after the supposed killing of Hare. Occasionally a group ofhorsemen rode across the valley or up a trail within sight of Dave andhis followers, but there was never a meeting. Not a steer had beendriven off the range that summer and fall; and except for the menacealways hanging in the blue smoke over Seeping Springs the range-ridinghad passed without unusual incident.

　　So for Hare the months had gone by swiftly; though when he looked backafterward they seemed years. The winter at the oasis he filled as besthe could, with the children playing in the yard, with Silvermane underthe sunny lee of the great red wall, with any work that offered itself.It was during the long evenings, when he could not be active, that timeoppressed him, and the memories of the past hurt him. A glimpse of thered sunset through the cliff-gate toward the west would start the trainof thought; he both loved and hated the Painted Desert. Mescal was therein the purple shadows. He dreamed of her in the glowing embers of thelog-fire. He saw her on Black Bolly with hair flying free to the wind.And he could not shut out the picture of her sitting in the corner of theroom, silent, with bowed head, while the man to whom she was pledged hungclose over her. That memory had a sting. It was like a spark of firedropped on the wound in his breast where the desert-hawk had struck him.It was like a light gleaming on the sombre line he was waiting to cross.