Desert Gold

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Belding stood listening. The genuine emotion in Chase's voice was
as strong as the ring of truth. Belding knew truth when he heard
it. The revelation did not surprise him. Belding did not soften,
for he devined that Chase's emotion was due to the probing of an
old wound, the recalling of a past both happy and painful. Still,
human nature was so strange that perhaps kindness and sympathy
might yet have a place in this Chase's heart. Belding did not
believe so, but he was willing to give Chase the benefit of the
doubt.

"So you told my wife you'd respect her secret--keep her dishonor
from husband and daughter?" demanded Belding, his dark gaze
sweeping back from the lane.

"What! I--I" stammered Chase.

"You made your son swear to be a man and die before he'd hint the
thing to Nell?" went on Belding, and his voice rang louder.

Ben Chase had no answer. The red left his face. His son slunk
back against the fence.

"I say you never held this secret over the heads of my wife and
her daughter?" thundered Belding.

He had his answer in the gray faces, in the lips that fear
made mute. Like a flash Belding saw the whole truth of Mrs.
Belding's agony, the reason for her departure; he saw what had
been driving Nell; and it seemed that all the dogs of hell were
loosed within his heart. He struck out blindly, instinctively in
his pain, and the blow sent Ben Chase staggering into the fence
corner. Then he stretched forth a long arm and whirled Radford
Chase back beside his father.

"I see it all now," went on Belding, hoarsely. "You found the
woman's weakness--her love for the girl. You found the girl's
weakness--her pride and fear of shame. So you drove the one and
hounded the other. God, what a base thing to do! To tell the
girl was bad enough, but to threaten her with betrayal; there's
no name for that!"

Belding's voice thickened, and he paused, breathing heavily. He
stepped back a few paces; and this, an ominous action for an armed
man of his kind, instead of adding to the fear of the Chases, seemed
to relieve them. If there had been any pity in Belding's heart he
would have felt it then.

"And now, gentlemen," continued Belding, speaking low and with
difficulty, "seeing I've turned down your proposition, I suppose
you think you've no more call to keep your mouths shut?"

The elder Chase appeared fascinated by something he either saw or
felt in Belding, and his gray face grew grayer. He put up a shaking
hand. Then Radford Chase, livid and snarling, burst out: "I'll talk
till I'm black in the face. You can't stop me!"

"You'll go black in the face, but it won't be from talking," hissed
Belding.

His big arm swept down, and when he threw it up the gun glittered
in his hand. Simultaneously with the latter action pealed out a
shrill, penetrating whistle.

The whistle of a horse! It froze Belding's arm aloft.
For an instant he could not move even his eyes. The familiarity
of that whistle was terrible in its power to rob him of strength.
Then he heard the rapid, heavy pound of hoofs, and again
the piercing whistle.

"Blanco Diablo!" he cried, huskily.

He turned to see a huge white horse come thundering into the yard.
A wild, gaunt, terrible horse; indeed, the loved Blanco Diablo.
A bronzed, long-haired Indian bestrode him. More white horses
galloped into the yard, pounded to a halt, whistling home. Belding
saw a slim shadow of a girl who seemed all great black eyes.

Under the trees flashed Blanco Sol, as dazzling white, as beautiful
as if he had never been lost in the desert. He slid to a halt, then
plunged and stamped. His rider leaped, throwing the bridle. Belding
saw a powerful, spare, ragged man, with dark, gaunt face and eyes
of flame.

Then Nell came running from the house, her golden hair flying, her
hands outstretched, her face wonderful.

"Dick! Dick! Oh-h-h, Dick!" she cried. Her voice seemed to quiver
in Belding's heart.

Belding's eyes began to blur. He was not sure he saw clearly.
Whose face was this now close before him--a long thin, shrunken
face, haggard, tragic in its semblance of torture, almost of
death? But the eyes were keen and kind. Belding thought wildly
that they proved he was not dreaming.

"I shore am glad to see you all," said a well-remembered voice
in a slow, cool drawl.

XVIII

Reality Against Dreams

Ladd, Lash, Thorne, Mercedes, they were all held tight in Belding's
arms. Then he ran to Blanco Diablo. For once the great horse was
gentle, quiet, glad. He remembered this kindest of masters and
reached for him with warm, wet muzzle.

Dick Gale was standing bowed over Nell's slight form, almost
hidden in his arms. Belding hugged them both. He was like a boy.
He saw Ben Chase and his son slip away under the trees, but the
circumstances meant nothing to him then.

"Dick! Dick!" he roared. "Is it you?...Say, who do you think's
here--here, in Forlorn River?"

Gale gripped Belding with a hand as rough and hard as a file and
as strong as a vise. But he did not speak a word. Belding thought
Gale's eyes would haunt him forever.

It was then three more persons came upon the scene--Elsie Gale,
running swiftly, her father assisting Mrs. Gale, who appeared
about to faint.

"Belding! Who on earth's that?" cried Dick Hoarsely.

"Quien sabe, my son," replied Belding; and now his voice seemed
a little shaky. "Nell, come here. Give him a chance."

Belding slipped his arm round Nell, and whispered in her ear.
"This 'll be great!"

Elsie Gale's face was white and agitated, a face expressing extreme joy.

"Oh, brother! Mama saw you--Papa saw you, and

never knew you! But I knew you when you jumped quick--that way--off
your horse. And now I don't know you. You wild man! You giant!
You splendid barbarian!...Mama, Papa, hurry! It is Dick! Look
at him. Just look at him! Oh-h, thank God!"

Belding turned away and drew Nell with him. In another second
she and Mercedes were clasped in each other's arms. Then followed
a time of joyful greetings all round.

The Yaqui stood leaning against a tree watching the welcoming home
of the lost. No one seemed to think of him, until Belding, ever
mindful of the needs of horses, put a hand on Blanco Diablo and
called to Yaqui to bring the others. They led the string of whites
down to the barn, freed them of wet and dusty saddles and packs,
and turned them loose in the alfalfa, now breast-high. Diablo
found his old spirit; Blanco Sol tossed his head and whistled
his satisfaction; White Woman pranced to and fro; and presently
they all settled down to quiet grazing. How good it was for
Belding to see those white shapes against the rich background
of green! His eyes glistened. It was a sight he had never expected
to see again. He lingered there many moments when he wanted to
hurry back to his rangers.

At last he tore himself away from watching Blanco Diablo and
returned to the house. It was only to find that he might have
spared himself the hurry. Jim and Ladd were lying on the beds
that had not held them for so many months. Their slumber seemed
as deep and quiet as death. Curiously Belding gazed down upon them.
They had removed only boots and chaps. Their clothes were in
tatters. Jim appeared little more than skin and bones, a long
shape, dark and hard as iron. Ladd's appearance shocked Belding.
The ranger looked an old man, blasted, shriveled, starved. Yet
his gaunt face, though terrible in its records of tortures, had
something fine and noble, even beautiful to Belding, in its
strength, its victory.

Thorne and Mercedes had disappeared. The low murmur of voices
came from Mrs. Gale's room, and Belding concluded that Dick was
still with his family. No doubt he, also, would soon seek rest
and sleep. Belding went through the patio and called in at Nell's
door. She was there sitting by her window. The flush of happiness
had not left her face, but she looked stunned, and a shadow of fear
lay dark in her eyes. Belding had intended to talk. He wanted
some one to listen to him. The expression in Nell's eyes , however,
silenced him. He had forgotten. Nell read his thought in his
face, and then she lost all her color and dropped her head. Belding
entered, stood beside her with a hand on hers. He tried desperately
hard to think of the right thing to say, and realized so long as
he tried that he could not speak at all.

"Nell--Dick's back safe and sound," he said, slowly. "That's the
main thing. I wish you could have seen his eyes when he held you
in his arms out there....Of course, Dick's coming knocks out your
trip East and changes plans generally. We haven't had the happiest
time lately. But now it 'll be different. Dick's as true as a
Yaqui. He'll chase that Chase fellow, don't mistake me....Then
mother will be home soon. She'll straighten out this--this mystery.
And Nell--however it turns out--I know Dick Gale will feel just the
same as I feel. Brace up now, girl."

Belding left the patio and traced thoughtful steps back toward the
corrals. He realized the need of his wife. If she had been at
home he would not have come so close to killing two men. Nell
would never have fallen so low in spirit. Whatever the real truth
of the tragedy of his wife's life, it would not make the slightest
difference to him. What hurt him was the pain mother and daughter
had suffered, were suffering still. Somehow he must put an end
to that pain.

He found the Yaqui curled up in a corner of the barn in as deep
a sleep as that of the rangers. Looking down at him, Belding
felt again the rush of curious thrilling eagerness to learn all
that had happened since the dark night when Yaqui had led the
white horses away into the desert. Belding curbed his
impatience and set to work upon tasks he had long neglected.
Presently he was interrupted by Mr. Gale, who came out, beside
himself with happiness and excitement. He flung a hundred questions
at Belding and never gave him time to answer one, even if that had
been possible. Finally, when Mr. Gale lost his breath, Belding
got a word in. "See here, Mr. Gale, you know as much as I know.
Dick's back. They're all back--a hard lot, starved, burned, torn
to pieces, worked out to the limit I never saw in desert travelers,
but they're alive--alive and well, man! Just wait. Just gamble
I won't sleep or eat till I hear that story. But they've got to
sleep and eat."

Belding gathered with growing amusement that besides the joy,
excitement, anxiety, impatience expressed by Mr. Gale there was
something else which Belding took for pride. It pleased him. Looking
back, he remembered some of the things Dick had confessed his
father thought of him. Belding's sympathy had always been with the
boy. But he had learned to like the old man, to find him kind
and wise, and to think that perhaps college and business had not
brought out the best in Richard Gale. The West had done that,
however, as it had for many a wild youngster; and Belding resolved
to have a little fun at the expense of Mr. Gale. So he began by
making a few remarks that appeared to rob Dick's father of both
speech and breath.

"And don't mistake me," concluded Belding, "just keep out of earshot
when Laddy tells us the story of that desert trip, unless you're
hankering to have your hair turn pure white and stand curled on
end and freeze that way."

About the middle of the forenoon on the following day the rangers
hobbled out of the kitchen to the porch.

"I'm a sick man, I tell you," Ladd was complaining, "an' I gotta be
fed. Soup! Beef tea! That ain't so much as wind to me. I want
about a barrel of bread an' butter, an' a whole platter of mashed
potatoes with gravy an' green stuff--all kinds of green stuff--an'
a whole big apple pie. Give me everythin' an' anythin' to eat but
meat. Shore I never, never want to taste meat again, an' sight
of a piece of sheep meat would jest about finish me....Jim, you
used to be a human bein' that stood up for Charlie Ladd."

"Laddy, I'm lined up beside you with both guns," replied Jim,
plaintively. "Hungry? Say, the smell of breakfast in that kitchen
made my mouth water so I near choked to death. I reckon we're
gettin' most onhuman treatment."

"But I'm a sick man," protested Ladd, "an' I'm agoin' to fall over
in a minute if somebody doesn't feed me. Nell, you used to be fond
of me."

"Oh, Laddy, I am yet," replied Nell.

"Shore I don't believe it. Any girl with a tender heart just
couldn't let a man starve under her eyes...Look at Dick, there.
I'll bet he's had something to eat, mebbe potatoes an' gravy, an'
pie an'--"

"Laddy, Dick has had no more than I gave you--in deed, not nearly
so much."

"Shore he's had a lot of kisses then, for he hasn't hollered onct
about this treatment."

"Perhaps he has," said Nell, with a blush; "and if you think
that--they would help you to be reasonable I might--I'll--"

"Well, powerful fond as I am of you, just now kisses 'll have
to run second to bread an' butter."

"Oh, Laddy, what a gallant speech!" laughed Nell. "I'm sorry,
but I've Dad's orders."

"Laddy," interrupted Belding, "you've got to be broke in gradually
to eating. Now you know that. You'd be the severest kind of a
boss if you had some starved beggars on your hands."

"But I'm sick--I'm dyin'," howled Ladd.

"You were never sick in your life, and if all the bullet holes I
see in you couldn't kill you, why, you never will die."

"Can I smoke?" queried Ladd, with sudden animation. "My Gawd, I
used to smoke. Shore I've forgot. Nell, if you want to be reinstated
in my gallery of angels, just find me a pipe an' tobacco."

"I've hung onto my pipe," said Jim, thoughtfully. "I reckon I had
it empty in my mouth for seven years or so, wasn't it, Laddy? A
long time! I can see the red lava an' the red haze, an' the red
twilight creepin' up. It was hot an' some lonely. Then the wind,
and always that awful silence! An' always Yaqui watchin' the west,
an' Laddy with his checkers, an' Mercedes burnin' up, wastin'
away to nothin' but eyes! It's all there--I'll never get rid--"

"Chop that kind of talk," interrupted Belding, bluntly. Tell us
where Yaqui took you--what happened to Rojas--why you seemed lost
for so long."

"I reckon Laddy can tell all that best; but when it comes to Rojas's
finish I'll tell what I seen, an' so'll Dick an' Thorne. Laddy
missed Rojas's finish. Bar none, that was the--"

"I'm a sick man, but I can talk," put in Ladd, "an' shore I don't
want the whole story exaggerated none by Jim."

Ladd filled the pipe Nell brought, puffed ecstatically at it, and
settled himself upon the bench for a long talk. Nell glanced
appealingly at Dick, who tried to slip away. Mercedes did go, and
was followed by Thorne. Mr. Gale brought chairs, and in subdued
excitement called his wife and daughter. Belding leaned forward,
rendered all the more eager by Dick's reluctance to stay, the
memory of the quick tragic change in the expression of Mercedes's
beautiful eyes, by the strange gloomy cast stealing over Ladd's
face.

The ranger talked for two hours--talked till his voice weakened
to a husky whisper. At the conclusion of his story there was an
impressive silence. Then Elsie Gale stood up, and with her hand
on Dick's shoulder, her eyes bright and warm as sunlight, she
showed the rangers what a woman thought of them and of the Yaqui.
Nell clung to Dick, weeping silently. Mrs. Gale was overcome,
and Mr. Gale, very white and quiet, helped her up to her room.

"The Indian! the Indian!" burst out Belding, his voice deep and
rolling. "What did I tell you? Didn't I say he'd be a godsend?
Remember what I said about Yaqui and some gory Aztec knifework?
So he cut Rojas loose from that awful crater wall, foot by foot,
finger by finger, slow and terrible? And Rojas didn't hang long
on the choya thorns? Thank the Lord for that!...Laddy, no story
of Camino del Diablo can hold a candle to yours. The flight
and the fight were jobs for men. But living through this long
hot summer and coming out--that's a miracle. Only the Yaqui
could have done it. The Yaqui! The Yaqui!"

"Shore. Charlie Ladd looks up at an Indian these days. But
Beldin', as for the comin' out, don't forget the hosses. Without
grand old Sol an' Diablo, who I don't hate no more, an' the other
Blancos, we'd never have got here. Yaqui an' the hosses, that's
my story!"

Early in the afternoon of the next day Belding encountered Dick
at the water barrel.

"Belding, this is river water, and muddy at that," said Dick.
"Lord knows I'm not kicking. But I've dreamed some of our cool
running spring, and I want a drink from it."

"Never again, son. The spring's gone, faded, sunk, dry as dust."

"Dry!" Gale slowly straightened. "We've had rains. The river's
full. The spring ought to be overflowing. What's wrong? Why is
it dry?"

"Dick, seeing you're interested, I may as well tell you that a
big charge of nitroglycerin choked my spring."

"Nitroglycerin?" echoed Gale. Then he gave a quick start. "My
mind's been on home, Nell, my family. But all the same I felt
something was wrong here with the ranch, with you, with
Nell...Belding, that ditch there is dry. The roses are dead.
The little green in that grass has come with the rains. What's
happened? The ranch's run down. Now I look around I see a change."

"Some change, yes," replied Belding, bitterly. "Listen, son."

Briefly, but not the less forcibly for that, Belding related his
story of the operations of the Chases.

Astonishment appeared to be Gale's first feeling. "Our water gone,
our claims gone, our plans forestalled! Why, Belding, it's
unbelievable. Forlorn River with promoters, business, railroad,
bank, and what not!"

Suddenly he became fiery and suspicious. "These Chases--did
they do all this on the level?"

"Barefaced robbery! Worse than a Greaser holdup," replied Belding,
grimly.

"You say the law upheld them?"

"Sure. Why, Ben Chase has a pull as strong as Diablo's on a down
grade. Dick, we're jobbed, outfigured, beat, tricked, and we can't
do a thing."

"Oh, I'm sorry, Belding, most of all for Laddy," said Gale,
feelingly. "He's all in. He'll never ride again. He wanted to
settle down here on the farm he thought he owned, grow grass and
raise horses, and take it easy. Oh, but it's tough! Say, he
doesn't know it yet. He was just telling me he'd like to go out
and look the farm over. Who's going to tell him? What's he going
to do when he finds out about this deal?"

"Son, that's make me think some," replied Belding, with keen eyes
fast upon the young man. "And I was kind of wondering how you'd
take it."

"I? Well, I'll call on the Chases. Look here, Belding,

I'd better do some forestalling myself. If Laddy gets started
now there'll be blood spilled. He's not just right in his mind
yet. He talks in his sleep sometimes about how Yaqui finished
Rojas. If it's left to him--he'll kill these men. But if I
take it up--"

"You're talking sense, Dick. Only here, I'm not so sure of you.
And there's more to tell. Son, you've Nell to think of and your
mother."

Belding's ranger gave him a long and searching glance.

"You can be sure of me," he said.

"All right, then; listen," began Belding. With deep voice that
had many a beak and tremor he told Gale how Nell had been hounded
by Radford Chase, how her mother had been driven by Ben Chase--the
whole sad story.

"So that's the trouble! Poor little girl!" murmured Gale, brokenly.
"I felt something was wrong. Nell wasn't natural, like her old
self. And when I begged her to marry me soon, while Dad was here,
she couldn't talk. She could only cry."

"It was hard on Nell," said Belding, simply. "But it 'll be better
now you're back. Dick, I know the girl. She'll refuse to marry
you and you'll have a hard job to break her down, as hard as the
one you just rode in off of. I think I know you, too, or I wouldn't
be saying--"

"Belding, what 're you hinting at?" demanded Gale. "Do you dare
insinuate that--that--if the thing were true it'd make any difference
to me?"

"Aw, come now, Dick; I couldn't mean that. I'm only awkward at
saying things. And I'm cut pretty deep--"

"For God's dake, you don't believe what Chase said?" queried Gale,
in passionate haste. "It's a lie. I swear it's a lie. I know
it's a lie. And I've got to tell Nell this minute. Come on in with
me. I want you, Belding. Oh, why didn't you tell me sooner?"

Belding felt himself dragged by an iron arm into the sitting-room
out into the patio, and across that to where

Nell sat in her door. At sight of them she gave a little cry,
drooped for an instant, then raised a pale, still face, with eyes
beginning to darken.

"Dearest, I know now why you are not wearing my mother's ring,"
said Gale, steadily and low-voiced.

"Dick, I am not worthy," she replied, and held out a trembling
hand with the ring lying in the palm.

Swift as light Gale caught her hand and slipped the ring back
upon the third finger.

"Nell! Look at me. It is your engagement ring....Listen. I don't
believe this--this thing that's been torturing you. I know it's
a lie. I am absolutely sure your mother will prove it a lie. She
must have suffered once--perhaps there was a sad error--but the
thing you fear is not true. But, hear me, dearest; even if it was
true it wouldn't make the slightest difference to me. I'd promise
you on my honor I'd never think of it again. I'd love you all the
more because you'd suffered. I want you all the more to be my
wife--to let me make you forget--to--"

She rose swiftyly with the passionate abandon of a woman stirred
to her depths, and she kissed him.

"Oh, Dick, you're good--so good! You'll never know--just what
those words mean to me. They've saved me--I think."

"Then, dearest, it's all right?" Dick questioned, eagerly. "You
will keep your promise? You will marry me?"

The glow, the light faded out of her face, and now the blue eyes
were almost black. She drooped and shook her head.

"Nell!" exclaimed Gale, sharply catching his breath.

"Don't ask me, Dick. I--I won't marry you."

"Why?"

"You know. It's true that I--"

"It's a lie," interrupted Gale, fiercely. "But even if it's
true--why--why won't you marry me? Between you and me love is the
thing. Love, and nothing else! Don't you love me any more?"

They had forgotten Belding, who stepped back into the shade.

"I love you with my whole heart and soul. I'd die for you,"
whispered Nell, with clenching hands. "But I won't disgrace you."

"Dear, you have worried over this trouble till you're morbid. It
has grown out of all proportion. I tell you that I'll not only
be the happiest man on earth, but the luckiest, if you marry me."

"Dick, you give not one thought to your family. Would they receive
me as your wife?"

"They surely would," replied Gale, steadily.

"No! oh no!"

"You're wrong, Nell. I'm glad you said that. You give me a chance
to prove something. I'll go this minute and tell them all. I'll
be back here in less than--"

"Dick, you will not tell her--your mother?" cried Nell, with her
eyes streaming. "You will not? Oh, I can't bear it! She's so
proud! And Dick, I love her. Don't tell her! Please, please
don't! She'll be going soon. She needn't ever know--about me.
I want her always to think well of me. Dick, I beg of you. Oh,
the fear of her knowing has been the worst of all! Please don't
go!"

"Nell, I'm sorry. I hate to hurt you. But you're wrong. You
can't see things clearly. This is your happiness I'm fighting
for. And it's my life....Wait here, dear. I won't be long."

Gale ran across the patio and disappeared. Nell sank to the
doorstep, and as she met the question in Belding's eyes she
shook her head mournfully. They waited without speaking. It
seemed a long while before Gale returned. Belding thrilled at
sight of him. There was more boy about him than Belding had
ever seen. Dick was coming swiftly, flushed, glowing, eager,
erect, almost smiling.

"I told them. I swore it was a lie, but I wanted them
to decide as if it were true. I didn't have to waste a minute
on Elsie. She loves you, Nell. The Governor is crazy about you.
I didn't have to waste two minutes on him. Mother used up the
time. She wanted to know all there was to tell. She is proud,
yes; but, Nell, I wish you could have seen how she took the--the
story about you. Why, she never thought of me at all, until she
had cried over you. Nell, she loves you, too. They all love you.
Oh, it's so good to tell you. I think mother realizes the part
you have had in the--what shall I call it?--the regeneration of
Richard Gale. Doesn't that sound fine? Darling, mother not only
consents, she want you to be my wife. Do you hear that? And
listen--she had me in a corner and, of course, being my mother,
she put on the screws. She made me promise that we'd live in the
East half the year. That means Chicago, Cape May, New York--you
see, I'm not exactly the lost son any more. Why, Nell, dear,
you'll have to learn who Dick Gale really is. But I always want
to be the ranger you helped me become, and ride Blanco Sol, and
see a little of the desert. Don't let the idea of big cities
frighten you. Well always love the open places best. Now,
Nell, say you'll forget this trouble. I know it'll come all right.
Say you'll marry me soon....Why, dearest, you're crying....Nell!"

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