The Greatest Adventure Books - MacLeod Raine Edition. William MacLeod Raine

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      Chapter 22.

       For a Good Reason

       Table of Contents

      The young ladies, following the custom of Arizona in summer, were riding by the light of the stars to avoid the heat of the day. They rode leisurely, chatting as their ponies paced side by side. For though they were cousins they were getting acquainted with each other for the first time. Both of them found this a delightful process, not the less so because they were temperamentally very different. Each of them knew already that they were going to be great friends. They had exchanged the histories of their lives, lying awake girl fashion to talk into the small hours, each omitting certain passages, however, that had to do with two men who were at that moment approaching nearer every minute to them.

      Bucky O'Connor and Sheriff Collins were returning to the Rocking Chair Ranch from Epitaph, where they had just been to deposit twenty-seven thousand dollars and a prisoner by the name of Chaves. Just at the point where the road climbed from the plains and reached the summit of the first stiff hill the two parties met and passed. The ranger and the sheriff reined in simultaneously. Yet a moment and all four of them were talking at once.

      They turned toward the ranch, Bucky and Frances leading the way. Alice, riding beside her lover in the darkness, found the defenses upon which she had relied begin to fail her. Nevertheless, she summoned them to her support and met him full armed with the evasions and complexities of her sex.

      “This is a surprise, Mr. Collins,” he was informed in her best society voice.

      “And a pleasure?”

      “Of course. But I'm sorry that father has been called to Phoenix. I suppose you came to tell him about your success.”

      “To brag about it,” he corrected. “But not to your father—to his daughter.”

      “That's very thoughtful of you. Will you begin now?”

      “Not yet. There is something I have to tell you, Miss Mackenzie.”

      At the gravity in his voice the lightness slipped from her like a cloak.

      “Yes. Tell me your news. Over the telephone all sorts of rumors have come to us. But even these were hearsay.”

      “I thought of telephoning you the facts. Then I decided to ride out and tell you at once. I knew you would want to hear the story at first hand.”

      Her patrician manner was gone. Her eyes looked their thanks at him. “That was good of you. I have been very anxious to get the facts. One rumor was that you have captured Sir Leroy. Is it true?”

      It seemed to her that his look was one of grave tenderness. “No, that is not true. You remember what we said of him—of how he might die?”

      “He is dead—you killed him,” she cried, all the color washed from her face.

      “He is dead, but I did not kill him.”

      “Tell me,” she commanded.

      He told her, beginning at the moment of his meeting with the outlaws at the Dalriada dump and continuing to the last scene of the tragedy. It touched her so nearly that she could not hear him through dry-eyed.

      “And he spoke of me?” She said it in a low voice, to herself rather than to him.

      “It was just before his mind began to wander—almost his last conscious thought. He said that when you heard the news you would remember. What you were to remember he didn't say. I took it you would know.”

      “Yes. I was to remember that he was not all wolf to me.” She told it with a little break of tears in her voice.

      “Then he told me to tell you that it was the best way out for him. He had come to the end of the road, and it would not have been possible for him to go back.” Presently Collins added gently: “If you don't mind my saying so, I think he was right. He was content to go, quite game and steady in his easy way. If he had lived, there could have been no going back for him. It was his nature to go the limit. The tragedy is in his life, not in his death.”

      “Yes, I know that, but it hurts one to think it had to be—that all his splendid gifts and capabilities should end like this, and that we are forced to see it is best. He might have done so much.”

      “And instead he became a miscreant. I reckon there was a lack in him somewhere.”

      “Yes, there was a great lack in him somewhere.”

      They were silent for a time. She broke it to ask about York Neil.

      “You wouldn't send him to prison after doing what he did, would you?”

      “Meaning what?”

      “You say yourself he helped you against the other outlaws. Then he showed you where to start in finding the buried money. He isn't a bad man. You know how he stood by me when I was a prisoner,” she pleaded.

      He nodded. “That goes a long way with me, Miss Mackenzie. The governor is a right good friend of mine. I meant to ask him for a pardon. I reckon Neil means to live straight from now on. He promised Leroy he would. He's only a wild cow-puncher gone wrong, and now he's haided right he'll pull up and walk the narrow trail.”

      “But can you save him from the penitentiary?”

      Collins smiled. “He saved me the trouble. Coming through the Canon Del Oro in the night, he ducked. I reckon he's in Mexico now.”

      “I'm glad.”

      “Well, I ain't sorry myself, though I helped Bucky hunt real thorough for him.”

      “Father will be pleased to know you got the treasure back,” Alice said presently, after they had ridden a bit in silence.

      “And your father's daughter, Miss Alice—is she pleased?”

      “What pleases father pleases me.” Her voice, cool as the plash of ice water, might have daunted a less resolute man. But this one had long since determined the manner of his wooing and was not to be driven from it.

      “I'm glad of that. Your father's right friendly to me,” he announced, with composure.

      “Indeed!”

      “Sho! I ain't going to run away and hide because you look like you don't know I'm in Arizona. What kind of a lover would I be if I broke for cover every time you flashed those dark eyes at me?”

      “Mr. Collins!”

      “My friends call me Val,” he suggested, smiling.

      “I was going to ask, Mr. Collins, if you think you can bully me.”

      “It might be a first rate thing for you if I did, Miss Mackenzie. All your life you haven't done anything but trample on sissy boys. Now, I expect I'm not a sissy boy, but a fair imitation of a man, and I shouldn't wonder but you'd find me some too restless for a door-mat.” His maimed hand happened to be resting on the saddle horn as he spoke, and the story of СКАЧАТЬ