The Lone Star Ranger - Zane Grey (ereader for comics txt) š
- Author: Zane Grey
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āHowdy, Buck,ā was his greeting to Duane. He spoke carelessly and averted his dark gaze for an instant.
āHowdy, Sol,ā replied Duane, slowly. āSay, Sol, I hear thereās a gent in town looking for me bad.ā
āReckon there is, Buck,ā replied White. āHe came in heah aboot an hour ago. Shore he was some riled anā a-roarinā for gore. Told me confidential a certain party had given you a white silk scarf, anā he was hell-bent on wearinā it home spotted red.ā
āAnybody with him?ā queried Duane.
āBurt anā Sam Outcalt anā a little cowpuncher I never seen before. They-all was coaxinā trim to leave town. But heās looked on the flowinā glass, Buck, anā heās heah for keeps.ā
āWhy doesnāt Sheriff Oaks lock him up if heās that bad?ā
āOaks went away with the rangers. Thereās been another raid at Flesherās ranch. The King Fisher gang, likely. Anā so the townās shore wide open.ā
Duane stalked outdoors and faced down the street. He walked the whole length of the long block, meeting many peopleāfarmers, ranchers, clerks, merchants, Mexicans, cowboys, and women. It was a singular fact that when he turned to retrace his steps the street was almost empty. He had not returned a hundred yards on his way when the street was wholly deserted. A few heads protruded from doors and around corners. That main street of Wellston saw some such situation every few days. If it was an instinct for Texans to fight, it was also instinctive for them to sense with remarkable quickness the signs of a coming gunplay. Rumor could not fly so swiftly. In less than ten minutes everybody who had been on the street or in the shops knew that Buck Duane had come forth to meet his enemy.
Duane walked on. When he came to within fifty paces of a saloon he swerved out into the middle of the street, stood there for a moment, then went ahead and back to the sidewalk. He passed on in this way the length of the block. Sol White was standing in the door of his saloon.
āBuck, Iām a-tippinā you off,ā he said, quick and low-voiced. āCal Bainās over at Everallās. If heās a-huntinā you bad, as he brags, heāll show there.ā
Duane crossed the street and started down. Notwithstanding Whiteās statement Duane was wary and slow at every door. Nothing happened, and he traversed almost the whole length of the block without seeing a person. Everallās place was on the corner.
Duane knew himself to be cold, steady. He was conscious of a strange fury that made him want to leap ahead. He seemed to long for this encounter more than anything he had ever wanted. But, vivid as were his sensations, he felt as if in a dream.
Before he reached Everallās he heard loud voices, one of which was raised high. Then the short door swung outward as if impelled by a vigorous hand. A bow-legged cowboy wearing wooley chaps burst out upon the sidewalk. At sight of Duane he seemed to bound into the air, and he uttered a savage roar.
Duane stopped in his tracks at the outer edge of the sidewalk, perhaps a dozen rods from Everallās door.
If Bain was drunk he did not show it in his movement. He swaggered forward, rapidly closing up the gap. Red, sweaty, disheveled, and hatless, his face distorted and expressive of the most malignant intent, he was a wild and sinister figure. He had already killed a man, and this showed in his demeanor. His hands were extended before him, the right hand a little lower than the left. At every step he bellowed his rancor in speech mostly curses. Gradually he slowed his walk, then halted. A good twenty-five paces separated the men.
āWonāt nothinā make you draw, youā!ā he shouted, fiercely.
āIām waitinā on you, Cal,ā replied Duane.
Bainās right hand stiffenedāmoved. Duane threw his gun as a boy throws a ball underhandāa draw his father had taught him. He pulled twice, his shots almost as one. Bainās big Colt boomed while it was pointed downward and he was falling. His bullet scattered dust and gravel at Duaneās feet. He fell loosely, without contortion.
In a flash all was reality for Duane. He went forward and held his gun ready for the slightest movement on the part of Bain. But Bain lay upon his back, and all that moved were his breast and his eyes. How strangely the red had left his faceāand also the distortion! The devil that had showed in Bain was gone. He was sober and conscious. He tried to speak, but failed. His eyes expressed something pitifully human. They changedārolledāset blankly.
Duane drew a deep breath and sheathed his gun. He felt calm and cool, glad the fray was over. One violent expression burst from him. āThe fool!ā
When he looked up there were men around him.
āPlumb center,ā said one.
Another, a cowboy who evidently had just left the gaming-table, leaned down and pulled open Bainās shirt. He had the ace of spades in his hand. He laid it on Bainās breast, and the black figure on the card covered the two bullet-holes just over Bainās heart.
Duane wheeled and hurried away. He heard another man say:
āReckon Cal got what he deserved. Buck Duaneās first gunplay. Like father like son!ā
A thought kept repeating itself to Duane, and it was that he might have spared himself concern through his imagining how awful it would be to kill a man. He had no such feeling now. He had rid the community of a drunken, bragging, quarrelsome cowboy.
When he came to the gate of his home and saw his uncle there with a mettlesome horse, saddled, with canteen, rope, and bags all in place, a subtle shock pervaded his spirit. It had slipped his mindāthe consequence of his act. But sight of the horse and the look of his uncle recalled the fact that he must now become a fugitive. An unreasonable anger took hold of him.
āThe dād fool!ā he exclaimed, hotly. āMeeting Bain wasnāt much, Uncle Jim. He dusted my boots, thatās all. And for that Iāve got to go on the dodge.ā
āSon, you killed himāthen?ā asked the uncle, huskily.
āYes. I stood over himāwatched him die. I did as I would have been done by.ā
āI knew it. Long ago I saw it cominā. But now we canāt stop to cry over spilt blood. Youāve got to leave town anā this part of the country.ā
āMother!ā exclaimed Duane.
āSheās away from home. You canāt wait. Iāll break it to herāwhat she always feared.ā
Suddenly Duane sat down and covered his face with his hands.
āMy God! Uncle, what have I done?ā His broad shoulders shook.
āListen, son, anā remember what I say,ā replied the elder man, earnestly. āDonāt ever forget. Youāre not to blame. Iām glad to see you take it this way, because maybe youāll never grow hard anā callous. Youāre not to blame. This is Texas. Youāre your fatherās son. These are wild times. The law as the rangers are laying it down now canāt change life all in a minute. Even your mother, whoās a good, true woman, has had her share in making you what you are this moment. For she was one of the pioneersāthe fightinā pioneers of this state. Those years of wild times, before you was born, developed in her instinct to fight, to save her life, her children, anā that instinct has cropped out in you. It will be many years before it dies out of the boys born in Texas.ā
āIām a murderer,ā said Duane, shuddering.
āNo, son, youāre not. Anā you never will be. But youāve got to be an outlaw till time makes it safe for you to come home.ā
āAn outlaw?ā
āI said it. If we had money anā influence weād risk a trial. But weāve neither. Anā I reckon the scaffold or jail is no place for Buckley Duane. Strike for the wild country, anā wherever you go anā whatever you do-be a man. Live honestly, if thatās possible. If it isnāt, be as honest as you can. If you have to herd with outlaws try not to become bad. There are outlaws who āre not all badāmany who have been driven to the river by such a deal as this you had. When you get among these men avoid brawls. Donāt drink; donāt gamble. I neednāt tell you what to do if it comes to gunplay, as likely it will. You canāt come home. When this thing is lived down, if that time ever comes, Iāll get word into the unsettled country. Itāll reach you some day. Thatās all. Remember, be a man. Goodby.ā
Duane, with blurred sight and contracting throat, gripped his uncleās hand and bade him a wordless farewell. Then he leaped astride the black and rode out of town.
As swiftly as was consistent with a care for his steed, Duane put a distance of fifteen or eighteen miles behind him. With that he slowed up, and the matter of riding did not require all his faculties. He passed several ranches and was seen by men. This did not suit him, and he took an old trail across country. It was a flat region with a poor growth of mesquite and prickly-pear cactus. Occasionally he caught a glimpse of low hills in the distance. He had hunted often in that section, and knew where to find grass and water. When he reached this higher ground he did not, however, halt at the first favorable camping-spot, but went on and on. Once he came out upon the brow of a hill and saw a considerable stretch of country beneath him. It had the gray sameness characterizing all that he had traversed. He seemed to want to see wide spacesāto get a glimpse of the great wilderness lying somewhere beyond to the southwest. It was sunset when he decided to camp at a likely spot he came across. He led the horse to water, and then began searching through the shallow valley for a suitable place to camp. He passed by old camp-sites that he well remembered. These, however, did not strike his fancy this time, and the significance of the change in him did not occur at the moment. At last he found a secluded spot, under cover of thick mesquites and oaks, at a goodly distance from the old trail. He took saddle and pack off the horse. He looked among his effects for a hobble, and, finding that his uncle had failed to put one in, he suddenly remembered that he seldom used a hobble, and never on this horse. He cut a few feet off the end of his lasso and used that. The horse, unused to such hampering of his free movements, had to be driven out upon the grass.
Duane made a small fire, prepared and ate his supper. This done, ending the work of that day, he sat down and filled his pipe. Twilight had waned into dusk. A few wan stars had just begun to show and brighten.
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