CONVALESCENCE
Four mornings later we were aboard the stage, riding down the main
street, on the way out of Linrock. The whole town turned out to bid us
farewell. The cheering, the clamor, the almost passionate fervor of the
populace irritated me, and I could not see the incident from their point
of view. Never in my life had I been so eager to get out of a place. But
then I was morbid, and the whole world hinged on one thing. Morton
insisted on giving us an escort as far as Del Rio. It consisted of six
cowboys, mounted, with light packs, and they rode ahead of the stage.
We had the huge vehicle to ourselves. A comfortable bed had been rigged
up for me by placing boards across from seat to seat, and furnishing it
with blankets and pillows. By some squeezing there was still room enough
inside for my three companions; but Steele expressed an intention of
riding mostly outside, and Miss Sampson's expression betrayed her. I was
to be alone with Sally. The prospect thrilled while it saddened me. How
different this ride from that first one, with all its promise of
adventure and charm!
"It's over!" said Steele thickly. "It's done! I'm glad, for their
sakes--glad for ours. We're out of town."
I had been quick to miss the shouts and cheers. And I had been just as
quick to see, or to imagine, a subtle change in Sally Langdon's face. We
had not traveled a mile before the tension relaxed about her lips, the
downcast eyelids lifted, and I saw, beyond any peradventure of doubt, a
lighter spirit. Then I relaxed myself, for I had keyed up every nerve to
make myself strong for this undertaking. I lay back with closed eyes,
weary, aching, in more pain than I wanted them to discover. And I
thought and thought.
Miss Sampson had said to me: "Russ, it'll all come right. I can tell you
now what you never guessed. For years Sally had been fond of our cousin,
George Wright. She hadn't seen him since she was a child. But she
remembered. She had an only brother who was the image of George. Sally
devotedly loved Arthur. He was killed in the Rebellion. She never got
over it. That left her without any family. George and I were her nearest
kin.
"How she looked forward to meeting George out here! But he disappointed
her right at the start. She hates a drinking man. I think she came to
hate George, too. But he always reminded her of Arthur, and she could
never get over that. So, naturally, when you killed George she was
terribly shocked. There were nights when she was haunted, when I had to
stay with her. Vaughn and I have studied her, talked about her, and we
think she's gradually recovering. She loved you, too; and Sally doesn't
change. Once with her is for always. So let me say to you what you said
to me--do not brood. All will yet be well, thank God!"
Those had been words to remember, to make me patient, to lessen my
insistent fear. Yet, what did I know of women? Had not Diane Sampson and
Sally Langdon amazed and nonplused me many a time, at the very moment
when I had calculated to a nicety my conviction of their action, their
feeling? It was possible that I had killed Sally's love for me, though I
could not believe so; but it was very possible that, still loving me,
she might never break down the barrier between us. The beginning of
that journey distressed me physically; yet, gradually, as I grew
accustomed to the roll of the stage and to occasional jars, I found
myself easier in body. Fortunately there had been rain, which settled
the dust; and a favorable breeze made riding pleasant, where ordinarily
it would have been hot and disagreeable.
We tarried long enough in the little hamlet of Sampson for Steele to get
letters from reliable ranchers. He wanted a number of references to
verify the Ranger report he had to turn in to Captain Neal. This
precaution he took so as to place in Neal's hands all the evidence
needed to convince Governor Smith. And now, as Steele returned to us and
entered the stage, he spoke of this report. "It's the longest and the
best I ever turned in," he said, with a gray flame in his eyes. "I
shan't let Russ read it. He's peevish because I want his part put on
record. And listen, Diane. There's to be a blank line in this report.
Your father's name will never be recorded. Neither the Governor, nor the
adjutant-general, nor Captain Neal, nor any one back Austin way will
ever know who this mysterious leader of the Pecos gang might have been.
"Even out here very few know. Many supposed, but few knew. I've shut the
mouths of those few. That blank line in the report is for a supposed and
mysterious leader who vanished. Jack Blome, the reputed leader, and all
his lawless associates are dead. Linrock is free and safe now, its
future in the hands of roused, determined, and capable men."
We were all silent after Steele ceased talking. I did not believe Diane
could have spoken just then. If sorrow and joy could be perfectly
blended in one beautiful expression, they were in her face. By and by I
dared to say: "And Vaughn Steele, Lone Star Ranger, has seen his last
service!"
"Yes," he replied with emotion.
Sally stirred and turned a strange look upon us all. "In that case,
then, if I am not mistaken, there were two Lone Star Rangers--and both
have seen their last service!" Sally's lips were trembling, the way they
trembled when it was impossible to tell whether she was about to laugh
or cry. The first hint of her old combative spirit or her old archness!
A wave of feeling rushed over me, too much for me in my weakened
condition. Dizzy, racked with sudden shooting pains, I closed my eyes;
and the happiness I embraced was all the sweeter for the suffering it
entailed. Something beat into my ears, into my brain, with the
regularity and rapid beat of pulsing blood--not too late! Not too late!
From that moment the ride grew different, even as I improved with leaps
and bounds. Sanderson behind us, the long gray barren between Sanderson
and the Rio Grande behind us, Del Rio for two days, where I was able to
sit up, all behind us--and the eastward trail to Uvalde before us! We
were the only passengers on the stage from Del Rio to Uvalde. Perhaps
Steele had so managed the journey. Assuredly he had become an individual
with whom traveling under the curious gaze of strangers would have been
embarrassing. He was most desperately in love. And Diane, all in a few
days, while riding these long, tedious miles, ordinarily so fatiguing,
had renewed her bloom, had gained what she had lost. She, too, was
desperately in love, though she remembered her identity occasionally,
and that she was in the company of a badly shot-up young man and a
broken-hearted cousin.
Most of the time Diane and Steele rode on top of the stage. When they
did ride inside their conduct was not unbecoming; indeed, it was sweet
to watch; yet it loosed the fires of jealous rage and longing in me; and
certainly had some remarkable effect upon Sally. Gradually she had been
losing that strange and somber mood she had acquired, to brighten and
change more and more. Perhaps she divined something about Diane and
Steele that escaped me. Anyway, all of a sudden she was transformed.
"Look here, if you people want to spoon, please get out on top," she
said.
If that was not the old Sally Langdon I did not know who it was. Miss
Sampson tried to appear offended, and Steele tried to look insulted, but
they both failed. They could not have looked anything but happy. Youth
and love were too strong for this couple, whom circumstances might well
have made grave and thoughtful. They were magnet and steel, powder and
spark. Any moment, right before my eyes, I expected them to rush right
into each other's arms. And when they refrained, merely substituting
clasped hands for a dearer embrace, I closed my eyes and remembered
them, as they would live in my memory forever, standing crushed together
on the ridge that day, white lips to white lips, embodying all that was
beautiful, passionate and tragic.
And I, who had been their undoing, in the end was their salvation. How I
hugged that truth to my heart!
It seemed, following Sally's pert remark, that after an interval of
decent dignity, Diane and Steele did go out upon the top of the stage.
"Russ," whispered Sally, "they're up to something. I heard a few words.
I bet you they're going to get married in San Antonio."
"Well, it's about time," I replied.
"But oughtn't they take us into their confidence?"
"Sally, they have forgotten we are upon the earth."
"Oh, I'm so glad they're happy!"
Then there was a long silence. It was better for me to ride lying down,
in which position I was at this time. After a mile Sally took my hand
and held it without speaking. My heart leaped, but I did not open my
eyes or break that spell even with a whisper. "Russ, I must say--tell
you--"
She faltered, and still I kept my eyes closed. I did not want to wake up
from that dream. "Have I been very--very sad?" she went on.
"Sad and strange, Sally. That was worse than my bullet-holes." She
gripped my hand. I felt her hair on my brow, felt her breath on my
cheek.
"Russ, I swore--I'd hate you if you--if you--"
"I know. Don't speak of it," I interposed hurriedly.
"But I don't hate you. I--I love you. And I can't give you up!"
"Darling! But, Sally, can you get over it--can you forget?"
"Yes. That horrid black spell had gone with the miles. Little by little,
mile after mile, and now it's gone! But I had to come to the point. To
go back on my word! To tell you. Russ, you never, _never_ had any
sense!"
Then I opened my eyes and my arms, too, and we were reunited. It must
have been a happy moment, so happy that it numbed me beyond
appreciation. "Yes, Sally," I agreed; "but no man ever had such a
wonderful girl."
"Russ, I never--took off your ring," she whispered.
"But you hid your hand from my sight," I replied quickly.
"Oh dear Russ, we're crazy--as crazy as those lunatics outside. Let's
think a little."
I was very content to have no thought at all, just to see and feel her
close to me.
"Russ, will you give up the Ranger Service for me?" she asked.
"Indeed I will."
"And leave this fighting Texas, never to return till the day of guns and
Rangers and bad men and even-breaks is past?"
"Yes."
"Will you go with me to my old home? It was beautiful once, Russ, before
it was let run to rack and ruin. A thousand acres. An old stone house.
Great mossy oaks. A lake and river. There are bear, deer, panther, wild
boars in the breaks. You can hunt. And ride! I've horses, Russ, such
horses! They could run these scrubby broncos off their legs. Will you
come?"
"Come! Sally, I rather think I will. But, dearest, after I'm well again
I must work," I said earnestly. "I've got to have a job."
"You're indeed a poor cowboy out of a job! Remember your deceit. Oh,
Russ! Well, you'll have work, never fear."
"Sally, is this old home of yours near the one Diane speaks of so much?"
I asked.
"Indeed it is. But hers has been kept under cultivation and in repair,
while mine has run down. That will be our work, to build it up. So it's
settled then?"
"Almost. There are certain--er--formalities--needful in a compact of
this kind." She looked inquiringly at me, with a soft flush. "Well, if
you are so dense, try to bring back that Sally Langdon who used to
torment me. How you broke your promises! How you leaned from your
saddle! Kiss me, Sally!"
Later, as we drew close to Uvalde, Sally and I sat in one seat, after
the manner of Diane and Vaughn, and we looked out over the west where
the sun was setting behind dim and distant mountains. We were fast
leaving the wild and barren border. Already it seemed far beyond that
broken rugged horizon with its dark line silhouetted against the rosy
and golden sky. Already the spell of its wild life and the grim and
haunting faces had begun to fade out of my memory. Let newer Rangers,
with less to lose, and with the call in their hearts, go on with our
work 'till soon that wild border would be safe!
The great Lone Star State must work out its destiny. Some distant day,
in the fulness of time, what place the Rangers had in that destiny would
be history.