The Light of the Western Stars, Zane Grey [e reader pdf best .TXT] 📗

anything but sober with Stewart in violent mood. For he had jumped at Dorothy's stubborn mount. All cowboys were masters of horses. It was wonderful to see him conquer the vicious animal. He was cruel, perhaps, yet it was from necessity. When, presently, he led the horse back to Dorothy she mounted without further trouble. Meanwhile, Nels and Nick had lifted Helen into her saddle.

“We'll take the side trail,” said Stewart, shortly, as he swung upon the big black. Then he led the way, and the other cowboys trotted in the rear.

It was only a short distance to the rim of the mesa, and when Madeline saw the steep trail, narrow and choked with weathered stone, she felt that her guests would certainly flinch.

“That's a jolly bad course,” observed Castleton.

The women appeared to be speechless.

Stewart checked his horse at the deep cut where the trail started down.

“Boys, drop over, and go slow,” he said, dismounting. “Flo, you follow. Now, ladies, let your horses loose and hold on. Lean forward and hang to the pommel. It looks bad. But the horses are used to such trails.”

Helen followed closely after Florence; Mrs. Beck went next, and then Edith Wayne. Dorothy's horse balked.

“I'm not so—so frightened,” said Dorothy. “If only he would behave!”

She began to urge him into the trail, making him rear, when Stewart grasped the bit and jerked the horse down.

“Put your foot in my stirrup,” said Stewart. “We can't waste time.”

He lifted her upon his horse and started him down over the rim.

“Go on, Miss Hammond. I'll have to lead this nag down. It'll save time.”

Then Madeline attended to the business of getting down herself. It was a loose trail. The weathered slopes seemed to slide under the feet of the horses. Dust-clouds formed; rocks rolled and rattled down; cactus spikes tore at horse and rider. Mrs. Beck broke into laughter, and there was a note in it that suggested hysteria. Once or twice Dorothy murmured plaintively. Half the time Madeline could not distinguish those ahead through the yellow dust. It was dry and made her cough. The horses snorted. She heared Stewart close behind, starting little avalanches that kept rolling on Majesty's fetlocks. She feared his legs might be cut or bruised, for some of the stones cracked by and went rattling down the slope. At length the clouds of dust thinned and Madeline saw the others before her ride out upon a level. Soon she was down, and Stewart also.

Here there was a delay, occasioned by Stewart changing Dorothy from his horse to her own. This struck Madeline as being singular, and made her thoughtful. In fact, the alert, quiet manner of all the cowboys was not reassuring. As they resumed the ride it was noticeable that Nels and Nick were far in advance, Monty stayed far in the rear, and Stewart rode with the party. Madeline heard Boyd Harvey ask Stewart if lawlessness such as he had mentioned was not unusual. Stewart replied that, except for occasional deeds of outlawry such as might break out in any isolated section of the country, there had been peace and quiet along the border for years. It was the Mexican revolution that had revived wild times, with all the attendant raids and holdups and gun-packing. Madeline knew that they were really being escorted home under armed guard.

When they rounded the head of the mesa, bringing into view the ranch-house and the valley, Madeline saw dust or smoke hovering over a hut upon the outskirts of the Mexican quarters. As the sun had set and the light was fading, she could not distinguish which it was. Then Stewart set a fast pace for the house. In a few minutes the party was in the yard, ready and willing to dismount.

Stillwell appeared, ostensibly cheerful, too cheerful to deceive Madeline. She noted also that a number of armed cowboys were walking with their horses just below the house.

“Wal, you-all had a nice little run,” Stillwell said, speaking generally. “I reckon there wasn't much need of it. Pat Hawe thinks he's got some outlaws corralled on the ranch. Nothin' at all to be fussed up about. Stewart's that particular he won't have you meetin' with any rowdies.”

Many and fervent were the expressions of relief from Madeline's feminine guests as they dismounted and went into the house. Madeline lingered behind to speak with Stillwell and Stewart.

“Now, Stillwell, out with it,” she said, briefly.

The cattleman stared, and then he laughed, evidently pleased with her keenness.

“Wal, Miss Majesty, there's goin' to be a fight somewhere, an' Stewart wanted to get you-all in before it come off. He says the valley's overrun by vaqueros an' guerrillas an' robbers, an' Lord knows what else.”

He stamped off the porch, his huge spurs rattling, and started down the path toward the waiting men.

Stewart stood in his familiar attentive position, erect, silent, with a hand on pommel and bridle.

“Stewart, you are exceedingly—thoughtful of my interests,” she said, wanting to thank him, and not readily finding words. “I would not know what to do without you. Is there danger?”

“I'm not sure. But I want to be on the safe side.”

She hesitated. It was no longer easy for her to talk to him, and she did not know why.

“May I know the special orders you gave Nels and Nick and Monty?” she asked.

“Who said I gave those boys special orders?”

“I heard Stillwell tell them so.”

“Of course I'll tell you if you insist. But why should you worry over something that'll likely never happen?”

“I insist, Stewart,” she replied, quietly.

“My orders were that at least one of them must be on guard near you day and night—never to be out of hearing of your voice.”

“I thought as much. But why Nels or Monty or Nick? That seems rather hard on them. For that matter, why put any one to keep guard over me? Do you not trust any other of my cowboys?”

“I'd trust their honesty, but not their ability.”

“Ability? Of what nature?”

“With guns.”

“Stewart!” she exclaimed.

“Miss Hammond, you have been having such a good time entertaining your guests that you forget. I'm glad of that. I wish you had not questioned me.”

“Forget what?”

“Don Carlos and his guerrillas.”

“Indeed I have not forgotten. Stewart, you still think Don Carlos tried to make off with me—may try it again?”

“I don't think. I know.”

“And besides all your other duties you have shared the