Rimrock Trail

nge twisted shapes of cactus. When it became apparent that Sandy's hazard had hit the mark, as they entered the defile that made entrance for Pyramid Pass, the only path a

dog at last to accommodate itself as best it could, helped by Sandy's one arm, sometimes with two as Sandy, r

pads out crossin' the lava beds, though what in time any hombre who ain't plumb loco is trapesin' round there for, beats me. There is some grazin' on

over that way

areful, that run over to the mines. I was over there once, nigh on to ten years ago. They called the camp Hopeful then. Next year they changed the name to Dynamite. Jest natcherully blew up, did that camp. Nothin' left but a lot of tumbledown shacks an' a couple hundred shafts an' tunnels

id Sam. "But it sure need

Sandy relapse

tensified by the dazzle of the merciless sun beating down on powdered alkali, on snaky flows of weathered lava, on mock lakes that sparkled and dissolved in mirage. The broken mesa, across which ran the road to

t the lava. We can foller his trail that fur. Sit tight,

tackle that?" asked Sam, nod

e emptying of an inland sea than vegetation of the land. Once the dog's tracks led aside to a scummy puddle, saucered by alkali, dotted with the spoor of desert animals that drank the bitter water in extremity. Then it ran straight to a wide reef of lava.

p for workin' you Sunday." The pinto tossed a pink muzzle and his master reached to pat the dusty, sweat-streaked neck. Alkali rose about them in clouds. Grit's trail, though blur

a dawg afore," said Sam at

n desert travel," agreed Sandy.

n or a prospector, a third probability made him an outlaw, a man with a price on his head, hiding in the wilds

, slippery progress. Here and there the gaunt skeleton of a tree, white as if lime-washed, showed that once cottonwoods had flourished before the devouring desert had claimed the territory. The cactus was all prickly pe

ks, Sandy picked up Grit's trail once again. The collie

stones, dry-piled. They had fallen away, the grade following, so that sometimes all that was left for passage was a ledge along which the horses sidled carefully in single file, stirrups brushing the inside bank. The zigzag

ip, he gave the pinto its head, trusting to it to establish footing. He saw Sam's roan dancing in the trail, the led mare plunging, dust rising all about them. Left-handed, a Colt flashed out of Sandy

ail sweeping the dirt, tobogganed down to the road, jumping catwise the moment it was reached, away from the squirming terror. Sandy forced him back, leaned far

buttons," said

here was another sound, a faint shout, unmistakably; hu

"That's a gal." He looked quizzically a

earlier days he had shot with deadly aim and purpose, but never save in self-defense and upon the side of law and right and order. Among men his poise was secure but, in a woman's presence, Sandy Bourke's tongue was tied save in emergency, his wits tangled. Whatever he privately felt o

He touched Pronto's flanks with the dulled rowels he wore, and the pinto broke into a lope. A big boulder was perched upon the nigh side of the road.

nder the lurch of a wagon jolting over outcrop uncovered by the rains. Scored dirt whe

could see nothing from the broken road. How any one could have hurtled over the precipice and be still able to call for help without the aid of some miracl

th-rinse and a swallow of tepid water so they would stand more contentedly. Each took a swift swig from the containers. Sandy untied the package of food and the leather medi

en. A white horse, emaciated, little more than buzzard meat when alive, lay with its legs stiff in the air, neck flattened and head limp. A broken pole, with s

andy caught a glimpse of a huddled body beyond her. Grit sat on his haunches, head toward the road, thrown back at each bark. Sandy reached the ledge

hrough the mask of dust. Now she was past crying. Her eyes

emed to be stating

ade me jump. You com

o the green of turquoise matrix. The boots were rusty, patched. The wagon-bed, toppling sidewise, had crashed down on his chest. Ro

asked, kneeli

n't have no strength left, 'thout food or water. The damned road jest slid out from under. Dad made me jump. I figgered he was goin' to, but his bad leg must have caugh

y no

f the fallen wagon and fumbled about through the rear opening of the canvas tilt: "Man's alive,

m as Sandy pried loose the part of the tongue still

body of the wagon?" he asked her. "May not be able to hold it m

ear splashed down on one of them and she shook the salt water from her eyes imp

eir muscles bunching, the veins standing out corded on their arms. Grit ran from one to the other with eag

ed Sandy, "s

aw a white beard appear, stained with blood, an aged seamed face, hollow at cheek and temple, sparse of hair, the fl

sky,

r lap, one hand smoothing his forehead while the o

one yit," s

, but there were gaps in them through whi

y! Da

l summons. His body twitched, he choked, swallowed, opened gray eyes, filmy with death, brightening with intelligence as he saw his daughter bending over him, the f

eringly upward to rest upon his daughter's head, Sandy, bending low, caught three syllables, repeated over and over, desperately,

ly-m

for that, pardn

ed face, and no little dignity. For the first time the girl gave way, lying prone, sobbin

t cavallo," said

er, such as it was, over, she rose, her fists tight closed, striving to control her quivering chin

im, 'count of the

ndy. "Ef you-all 'll take the

onesome out here-" She twisted her mouth, setting teeth into the lower lip sharply as she gazed at

o be put within the sound of runnin' water-he's gone so often 'thout it. But-" She shrugged h

in search of the dead miner's pick and shovel that now, inste

lly for short-same as my Ma. Sh

ix yore daddy's idee about runnin' water. We'd come back an' git him an' we'll make a place fo' him under our big cottonwoods below

er eyes that Sandy felt embarrassed. He had been comforting a girl

if I work the bones of my fingers through the flesh fo' you. Thanks do

am emerged from the wagon with the tools. The bay mare groaned and gave a

pare?" asked the girl. Sa

s it's dark, it'll cool off.

et. The girl washed away as best she could the stains of blood and travel from the de

lders for a cairn. The whirring chorus of the cicadas drummed an elfin requiem. Now and then there came the chink of bit, or hoof on rock, from the waiting horses in the broken road. The sun was low, horizontal rays piercing the flood of vio

untings. Out of this she produced a handkerchief of soft China silk brocade, its white turned yellow

dirt pressin' on h

e few personal belongings, from the inner pocket of th

e can bring in the rest of the stuff later. Got to shack erlong,

in't had m

l stand yore skirt. If she

ame out with her bundle they piled the cairn, a mask of bro

ouetted against the afterglow, softly pulsing masses of fiery cloud above the top

he settlements or a ranch where we aim to visit. We was makin' for the Two-Bar-P outfit, where Grit came from when he

see we-all bought the Two-Bar-P, though I never figgered old Sam

the girl. "He was a tenderfoot when he come, an' when he left, 'count bein' sick. Samson didn't want to kill the

thought, talking to bridge over the last good-by, the ch

n like a goat, reappearing with her hat half filled with crimson si

s mistress, they mounted to the road. The gray mare made no bother and soon they were

urned without flicker. The wind moaned through the trough of the ca?on as they rode out on the plain. Up somewher

cottonwoods rustled in the dark, the air was sweet and cool, not far from frost. Molly Casey shivered as she moved stiffly in her saddle. Sandy lifted her from the saddle and carried her up the steps, across the porch, ki

a lamp. He struck Mormon mi

eep. But there's a kittle of hot water, Sandy. Wher

own the girl. "Miss Casey, this is Mr. Peters. Mormon, Mi

rl as she shook hands with him, recovered himself and beamed at he

an arm about her shoulders. He was not woman-shy w

of us an' then we-all 'll turn in. I'll show you yore room. Up the stairs an' the last door on the ri

her a friendly little shove, gue

er dawg," he said to Mormon. "Thought we might adopt her

to kid her! I ain't got the sense of a drown

gh, ain't she, Sam? Stan

greengages, will ye? I reckon she

ged to make a meal that satisfied them. Then she got up to go to her room, with Grit nu

me when he told me to jump? If I'd known he c'udn't git clear I'd have

't," said Sandy gravely. "Yo

ook he

much I begged him. I didn't think of the brake. Don't seem quite sq

the big bell rings," s

them gravely

lve eidges. Sam, slide out an' muzzle that bell. She'll likely cry herself to sleep aft

know so much about

e first thing about

Sam. "'Cept it's Mormon. H

, up to a snortin' tornado. Average number of workin' days, about one hundred an' fifty. Them's statistics. It ain't so hard to set down what a woman's done at the end of a year, if you got a good mem'ry, but tryin' to guess what she is goin' to do has got the weather man backed off inter a corner an' squealin' f

w, this gel of Casey's 'pears like what her dad 'ud call a good prospect, but you can't tell. Foo

batter Pedro fixes fo'

that got to do with

him five times hand-runnin'. He ropes a steer that happens to run into the bum loop he was swingin' an' it snakes him out'n the saddle. A pesky cow chases him when he was afoot, a couple calves gits a rope twisted

chance. Leastwise, I see several signs of pay dirt this afternoon an' evenin' as I reckon Sandy done the same. She's been trailin' her dad

grievedly. "She's as welcome as grass in spring. Th

Sam caustically. "Nor none a smaller brai

harps say Dynamite's a flivver. All she has in sight is the dawg. Some dawg! Comes in from the desert an' takes us out to her an' Pat Casey-him dyin'. Ef it hadn't been fo' the dawg, she'd have stayed there, to my notion. Got some so

e motion,"

t," said

eteers of the Rang