The Man of the Forest, Zane Grey [books to read for 13 year olds txt] 📗
- Author: Zane Grey
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wipe the feet of any of these outlaws.”
Riggs took two long strides and bent over her, his teeth
protruding in a snarl, and he cuffed her hard on the side of
the head.
Bo’s head jerked back with the force of the blow, but she
uttered no cry.
“Are you goin’ to keep your jaw shut?” he demanded,
stridently, and a dark tide of blood surged up into his
neck.
“I should smile I’m not,” retorted Bo, in cool, deliberate
anger of opposition. “You’ve roped me — and you’ve struck
me! Now get a club — stand off there — out of my reach —
and beat me! Oh, if I only knew cuss words fit for you —
I’d call you them!”
Snake Anson had stopped playing cards, and was watching,
listening, with half-disgusted, half-amused expression on
his serpent-like face. Jim Wilson slowly rose to his feet.
If any one had observed him it would have been to note that
he now seemed singularly fascinated by this scene, yet all
the while absorbed in himself. Once he loosened the
neck-band of his blouse.
Riggs swung his arm more violently at the girl. But she
dodged.
“You dog!” she hissed. “Oh, if I only had a gun!”
Her face then, with its dead whiteness and the eyes of
flame, held a tragic, impelling beauty that stung Anson into
remonstrance.
“Aw, Riggs, don’t beat up the kid,” he protested. “Thet
won’t do any good. Let her alone.”
“But she’s got to shut up,” replied Riggs.
“How ‘n hell air you goin’ to shet her up? Mebbe if you get
out of her sight she’ll be quiet… . How about thet,
girl?”
Anson gnawed his drooping mustache as he eyed Bo.
“Have I made any kick to you or your men yet?” she queried.
“It strikes me you ‘ain’t,” replied Anson.
“You won’t hear me make any so long as I’m treated decent,”
said Bo. “I don’t know what you’ve got to do with Riggs. He
ran me down — roped me — dragged me to your camp. Now I’ve
a hunch you’re waiting for Beasley.”
“Girl, your hunch ‘s correct,” said Anson.
“Well, do you know I’m the wrong girl?”
“What’s thet? I reckon you’re Nell Rayner, who got left all
old Auchincloss’s property.”
“No. I’m Bo Rayner. Nell is my sister. She owns the ranch.
Beasley wanted her.”
Anson cursed deep and low. Under his sharp, bristling
eyebrows he bent cunning green eyes upon Riggs.
“Say, you! Is what this kid says so?”
“Yes. She’s Nell Rayner’s sister,” replied Riggs, doggedly.
“A-huh! Wal, why in the hell did you drag her into my camp
an’ off up here to signal Beasley? He ain’t wantin’ her. He
wants the girl who owns the ranch. Did you take one fer the
other — same as thet day we was with you?”
“Guess I must have,” replied Riggs, sullenly.
“But you knowed her from her sister afore you come to my
camp?”
Riggs shook his head. He was paler now and sweating more
freely. The dank hair hung wet over his forehead. His manner
was that of a man suddenly realizing he had gotten into a
tight place.
“Oh, he’s a liar!” exclaimed Bo, with contemptuous ring in
her voice. “He comes from my country. He has known Nell and
me for years.”
Snake Anson turned to look at Wilson.
“Jim, now hyar’s a queer deal this feller has rung in on us.
I thought thet kid was pretty young. Don’t you remember
Beasley told us Nell Rayner was a handsome woman?”
“Wal, pard Anson, if this heah gurl ain’t handsome my eyes
have gone pore,” drawled Wilson.
“A-huh! So your Texas chilvaree over the ladies is some
operatin’,” retorted Anson, with fine sarcasm. “But thet
ain’t tellin’ me what you think?”
“Wal, I ain’t tellin’ you what I think yet. But I know thet
kid ain’t Nell Rayner. For I’ve seen her.”
Anson studied his right-hand man for a moment, then, taking
out his tobacco-pouch, he sat himself down upon a stone and
proceeded leisurely to roll a cigarette. He put it between
his thin lips and apparently forgot to light it. For a few
moments he gazed at the yellow ground and some scant
sage-brush. Riggs took to pacing up and down. Wilson leaned
as before against the cedar. The girl slowly recovered from
her excess of anger.
“Kid, see hyar,” said Anson, addressing the girl; “if Riggs
knowed you wasn’t Nell an’ fetched you along anyhow — what
‘d he do thet fur?”
“He chased me — caught me. Then he saw some one after us
and he hurried to your camp. He was afraid — the cur!”
Riggs heard her reply, for he turned a malignant glance upon
her.
“Anson, I fetched her because I know Nell Rayner will give
up anythin’ on earth for her,” he said, in loud voice.
Anson pondered this statement with an air of considering its
apparent sincerity.
“Don’t you believe him,” declared Bo Rayner, bluntly. “He’s
a liar. He’s double-crossing Beasley and all of you.”
Riggs raised a shaking hand to clench it at her. “Keep still
or it ‘ll be the worse for you.”
“Riggs, shut up yourself,” put in Anson, as he leisurely
rose. “Mebbe it ‘ain’t occurred to you thet she might have
some talk interestin’ to me. An’ I’m runnin’ this hyar camp.
… Now, kid, talk up an’ say what you like.”
“I said he was double-crossing you all,” replied the girl,
instantly. “Why, I’m surprised you’d be caught in his
company! My uncle Al and my sweetheart Carmichael and my
friend Dale — they’ve all told me what Western men are,
even down to outlaws, robbers, cutthroat rascals like you.
And I know the West well enough now to be sure that
four-flush doesn’t belong here and can’t last here. He went
to Dodge City once and when he came back he made a bluff at
being a bad man. He was a swaggering, bragging, drinking
gun-fighter. He talked of the men he’d shot, of the fights
he’d had. He dressed like some of those gun-throwing
gamblers… . He was in love with my sister Nell. She
hated him. He followed us out West and he has hung on our
actions like a sneaking Indian. Why, Nell and I couldn’t
even walk to the store in the village. He rode after me out
on the range — chased me… . For that Carmichael called
Riggs’s bluff down in Turner’s saloon. Dared him to draw!
Cussed him every name on the range! Slapped and beat and
kicked him! Drove him out of Pine! … And now, whatever
he has said to Beasley or you, it’s a dead sure bet he’s
playing his own game. That’s to get hold of Nell, and if not
her — then me! … Oh, I’m out of breath — and I’m out
of names to call him. If I talked forever — I’d never be —
able to — do him justice. But lend me — a gun — a
minute!”
Jim Wilson’s quiet form vibrated with a start. Anson with
his admiring smile pulled his gun and, taking a couple of
steps forward, held it out butt first. She stretched eagerly
for it and he jerked it away.
“Hold on there!” yelled Riggs, in alarm.
“Damme, Jim, if she didn’t mean bizness!” exclaimed the
outlaw.
“Wal, now — see heah, Miss. Would you bore him — if you
hed a gun?” inquired Wilson, with curious interest. There
was more of respect in his demeanor than admiration.
“No. I don’t want his cowardly blood on my hands,” replied
the girl. “But I’d make him dance — I’d make him run.”
“Shore you can handle a gun?”
She nodded her answer while her eyes flashed hate and her
resolute lips twitched.
Then Wilson made a singularly swift motion and his gun was
pitched butt first to within a foot of her hand. She
snatched it up, cocked it, aimed it, all before Anson could
move. But he yelled:
“Drop thet gun, you little devil!”
Riggs turned ghastly as the big blue gun lined on him. He
also yelled, but that yell was different from Anson’s.
“Run or dance!” cried the girl.
The big gun boomed and leaped almost out of her hand. She
took both hands, and called derisively as she fired again.
The second bullet hit at Riggs’s feet, scattering the dust
and fragments of stone all over him. He bounded here —
there — then darted for the rocks. A third time the heavy
gun spoke and this bullet must have ticked Riggs, for he let
out a hoarse bawl and leaped sheer for the protection of a
rock.
“Plug him! Shoot off a leg!” yelled Snake Anson, whooping
and stamping, as Riggs got out of sight.
Jim Wilson watched the whole performance with the same
quietness that had characterized his manner toward the girl.
Then, as Riggs disappeared, Wilson stepped forward and took
the gun from the girl’s trembling hands. She was whiter than
ever, but still resolute and defiant. Wilson took a glance
over in the direction Riggs had hidden and then proceeded to
reload the gun. Snake Anson’s roar of laughter ceased rather
suddenly.
“Hyar, Jim, she might have held up the whole gang with thet
gun,” he protested.
“I reckon she ‘ain’t nothin’ ag’in’ us,” replied Wilson.
“A-huh! You know a lot about wimmen now, don’t you? But thet
did my heart good. Jim, what ‘n earth would you have did if
thet ‘d been you instead of Riggs?”
The query seemed important and amazing. Wilson pondered.
“Shore I’d stood there — stock-still — an’ never moved an
eye-winker.”
“An’ let her shoot!” ejaculated Anson, nodding his long
head. “Me, too!”
So these rough outlaws, inured to all the violence and
baseness of their dishonest calling, rose to the challenging
courage of a slip of a girl. She had the one thing they
respected — nerve.
Just then a halloo, from the promontory brought Anson up
with a start. Muttering to himself, he strode out toward the
jagged rocks that hid the outlook. Moze shuffled his burly
form after Anson.
“Miss, it shore was grand — thet performance of Mister
Gunman Riggs,” remarked Jim Wilson, attentively studying the
girl.
“Much obliged to you for lending me your gun,” she replied.
“I — I hope I hit him — a little.”
“Wal, if you didn’t sting him, then Jim Wilson knows nothin’
about lead.”
“Jim Wilson? Are you the man — the outlaw my uncle Al
knew?”
“Reckon I am, miss. Fer I knowed Al shore enough. What ‘d he
say aboot me?”
“I remember once he was telling me about Snake Anson’s gang.
He mentioned you. Said you were a real gun-fighter. And what
a shame it was you had to be an outlaw.”
“Wal! An’ so old Al spoke thet nice of me… . It’s
tolerable likely I’ll remember. An’ now, miss, can I do
anythin’ for you?”
Swift as a flash she looked at him.
“What do you mean?”
“Wal, shore I don’t mean much, I’m sorry to say. Nothin’ to
make you look like thet… . I hev to be an outlaw, shore
as you’re born. But — mebbe there’s a difference in
outlaws.”
She understood him and paid him the compliment not to voice
her sudden upflashing hope that he might be one to betray
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