The Lone Star Ranger by Zane Grey (red white and royal blue hardcover .txt) š
- Author: Zane Grey
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After several days Duane went boldly into town and showed that he meant business. It was his opinion that there were men in Fairdale secretly glad of a rangerās presence. What he intended to do was food for great speculation. A company of militia could not have had the effect upon the wild element of Fairdale that Duaneās presence had. It got out that he was a gunman lightning swift on the draw. It was death to face him. He had killed thirty menāwildest rumor of all. lt was actually said of him he had the gun-skill of Buck Duane or of Poggin.
At first there had not only been great conjecture among the vicious element, but also a very decided checking of all kinds of action calculated to be conspicuous to a keen-eyed ranger. At the tables, at the bars and lounging-places Duane heard the remarks: āWhoās thet ranger after? Whatāll he do fust off? Is he waitinā fer somebody? Whoās goinā to draw on him fustāanā go to hell? Jest about how soon will he be found somewheres full of lead?ā
When it came out somewhere that Duane was openly cultivating the honest stay-at-home citizens to array them in time against the other element, then Fairdale showed its wolf-teeth. Several times Duane was shot at in the dark and once slightly injured. Rumor had it that Poggin, the gunman, was coming to meet him. But the lawless element did not rise up in a mass to slay Duane on sight. It was not so much that the enemies of the law awaited his next move, but just a slowness peculiar to the frontier. The ranger was in their midst. He was interesting, if formidable. He would have been welcomed at card-tables, at the bars, to play and drink with the men who knew they were under suspicion. There was a rude kind of good humor even in their open hostility.
Besides, one ranger or a company of rangers could not have held the undivided attention of these men from their games and drinks and quarrels except by some decided move. Excitement, greed, appetite were rife in them. Duane marked, however, a striking exception to the usual run of strangers he had been in the habit of seeing. Snecker had gone or was under cover. Again Duane caught a vague rumor of the coming of Poggin, yet he never seemed to arrive. Moreover, the goings-on among the habitues of the resorts and the cowboys who came in to drink and gamble were unusually mild in comparison with former conduct. This lull, however, did not deceive Duane. It could not last. The wonder was that it had lasted so long.
Duane went often to see Mrs. Laramie and her children. One afternoon while he was there he saw Miss Longstreth and Ruth ride up to the door. They carried a basket. Evidently they had heard of Mrs. Laramieās trouble. Duane felt strangely glad, but he went into an adjoining room rather than meet them.
āMrs. Laramie, Iāve come to see you,ā said Miss Longstreth, cheerfully.
The little room was not very light, there being only one window and the doors, but Duane could see plainly enough. Mrs. Laramie lay, hollow-checked and haggard, on a bed. Once she had evidently been a woman of some comeliness. The ravages of trouble and grief were there to read in her worn face; it had not, however, any of the hard and bitter lines that had characterized her husbandās.
Duane wondered, considering that Longstreth had ruined Laramie, how Mrs. Laramie was going to regard the daughter of an enemy.
āSo youāre Granger Longstrethās girl?ā queried the woman, with her bright, black eyes fixed on her visitor.
āYes,ā replied Miss Longstreth, simply. āThis is my cousin, Ruth Herbert. Weāve come to nurse you, take care of the children, help you in any way youāll let us.ā
There was a long silence.
āWell, you look a little like Longstreth,ā finally said Mrs. Laramie, ābut youāre not at ALL like him. You must take after your mother. Miss Longstreth, I donāt know if I canāif I ought accept anything from you. Your father ruined my husband.ā
āYes, I know,ā replied the girl, sadly. āThatās all the more reason you should let me help you. Pray donāt refuse. It willā mean so much to me.ā
If this poor, stricken woman had any resentment it speedily melted in the warmth and sweetness of Miss Longstrethās manner. Duaneās idea was that the impression of Ray Longstrethās beauty was always swiftly succeeded by that of her generosity and nobility. At any rate, she had started well with Mrs. Laramie, and no sooner had she begun to talk to the children than both they and the mother were won. The opening of that big basket was an event. Poor, starved little beggars! Duaneās feelings seemed too easily roused. Hard indeed would it have gone with Jim Laramieās slayer if he could have laid eyes on him then. However, Miss Longstreth and Ruth, after the nature of tender and practical girls, did not appear to take the sad situation to heart. The havoc was wrought in that household.
The needs now were cheerfulness, kindness, help, actionāand these the girls furnished with a spirit that did Duane good.
āMrs. Laramie, who dressed this baby?ā presently asked Miss Longstreth. Duane peeped in to see a dilapidated youngster on her knee. That sight, if any other was needed, completed his full and splendid estimate of Ray Longstreth and wrought strangely upon his heart.
āThe ranger,ā replied Mrs. Laramie.
āThe ranger!ā exclaimed Miss Longstreth.
āYes, heās taken care of us all sinceāsinceāā Mrs. Laramie choked.
āOh! So youāve had no help but his,ā replied Miss Longstreth, hastily. āNo women. Too bad! Iāll send some one, Mrs. Laramie, and Iāll come myself.ā
āItāll be good of you,ā went on the older woman. āYou see, Jim had few friendsāthat is, right in town. And theyāve been afraid to help usāafraid theyād get what poor Jimāā
āThatās awful!ā burst out Miss Longstreth, passionately. āA brave lot of friends! Mrs. Laramie, donāt you worry any more. Weāll take care of you. Here, Ruth, help me. Whatever is the matter with babyās dress?ā
Manifestly Miss Longstreth had some difficulty in subduing her emotion.
āWhy, itās on hind side before,ā declared Ruth. āI guess Mr. Ranger hasnāt dressed many babies.ā
āHe did the best he could,ā said Mrs. Laramie. āLord only knows what would have become of us!ā
āThen he isāis something more than a ranger?ā queried Miss Longstreth, with a little break in her voice.
āHeās more than I can tell,ā replied Mrs. Laramie. āHe buried Jim. He paid our debts. He fetched us here. He bought food for us. He cooked for us and fed us. He washed and dressed the baby. He sat with me the first two nights after Jimās death, when I thought Iād die myself. Heās so kind, so gentle, so patient. He has kept me up just by being near. Sometimes Iād wake from a doze, anā, seeing him there, Iād know how false were all these tales Jim heard about him and believed at first. Why, he plays with the children justājust like any good man might. When he has the baby up I just canāt believe heās a bloody gunman, as they say. Heās good, but he isnāt happy. He has such sad eyes. He looks far off sometimes when the children climb round him. They love him. His life is sad. Nobody need tell meāhe sees the good in things. Once he said somebody had to be a ranger. Well, I say, āThank God for a ranger like him!ā
ā
Duane did not want to hear more, so he walked into the room.
āIt was thoughtful of you,ā Duane said. āWomankind are needed here. I could do so little. Mrs. Laramie, you look better already. Iām glad. And hereās baby, all clean and white. Baby, what a time I had trying to puzzle out the way your clothes went on! Well, Mrs. Laramie, didnāt I tell youāfriends would come? So will the brighter side.ā
āYes, Iāve more faith than I had,ā replied Mrs. Laramie. āGranger Longstrethās daughter has come to me. There for a while after Jimās death I thought Iād sink. We have nothing. How could I ever take care of my little ones? But Iām gaining courage toāā
āMrs. Laramie, do not distress yourself any more,ā said Miss Longstreth. āI shall see you are well cared for. I promise you.ā
āMiss Longstreth, thatās fine!ā exclaimed Duane. āItās what Iād haveāexpected of you.ā
It must have been sweet praise to her, for the whiteness of her face burned out in a beautiful blush.
āAnd itās good of you, too, Miss Herbert, to come,ā added Duane. āLet me thank you both. Iām glad I have you girls as allies in part of my lonely task here. More than glad for the sake of this good woman and the little ones. But both of you be careful about coming here alone. Thereās risk. And now Iāll be going. Good-by, Mrs. Laramie. Iāll drop in again to-night. Good-by.ā
āMr. Ranger, wait!ā called Miss Longstreth, as he went out. She was white and wonderful. She stepped out of the door close to him.
āI have wronged yourā she said, impulsively.
āMiss Longstreth! How can you say that?ā he returned.
āI believed what my father and Floyd Lawson said about you. Now I seeāI wronged you.ā
āYou make me very glad. But, Miss Longstreth, please donāt speak of wronging me. I have been aāa gunman, I am a rangerā and much said of me is true. My duty is hard on othersāsometimes on those who are innocent, alas! But God knows that duty is hard, too, on me.ā
āI did wrong you. If you entered my home again I would think it an honor. Iāā
āPleaseāplease donāt, Miss Longstreth,ā interrupted Duane.
āBut, sir, my conscience flays me,ā she went on. There was no other sound like her voice. āWill you take my hand? Will you forgive me?ā
She gave it royally, while the other was there pressing at her breast. Duane took the proffered hand. He did not know what else to do.
Then it seemed to dawn upon him that there was more behind this white, sweet, noble intensity of her than just the making amends for a fancied or real wrong. Duane thought the man did not live on earth who could have resisted her then.
āI honor you for your goodness to this unfortunate woman,ā she said, and now her speech came swiftly. āWhen she was all alone and helpless you were her friend. It was the deed of a man. But Mrs. Laramie isnāt the only unfortunate woman in the world. I, too, am unfortunate. Ah, how I may soon need a friend! Will you be my friend? Iām so alone. Iām terribly worried. I fearāI fearāOh, surely Iāll need a friend soonāsoon. Oh, Iām afraid of what youāll find out sooner or later. I want to help you. Let us save life if not honor. Must I stand aloneāall alone? Will youāwill you beāā Her voice failed.
It seemed to Duane that she must have discovered what he had begun to suspectāthat her father and Lawson were not the honest ranchers they pretended to be. Perhaps she knew more! Her appeal to Duane shook him deeply. He wanted to help her more than
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