CHAPTER XIV
When Duane reached the crossing of the roads the name Fairfield on thesign-post seemed to be the thing that tipped the oscillating balance ofdecision in favor of that direction.
He answered here to unfathomable impulse. If he had been driven to huntup Jeff Aiken, now he was called to find this unknown ranger captain.In Duane's state of mind clear reasoning, common sense, or keenness wereout of the question. He went because he felt he was compelled.
Dusk had fallen when he rode into a town which inquiry discovered to beFairfield. Captain MacNelly's camp was stationed just out of the villagelimits on the other side.
No one except the boy Duane questioned appeared to notice his arrival.Like Shirley, the town of Fairfield was large and prosperous, comparedto the innumerable hamlets dotting the vast extent of southwesternTexas. As Duane rode through, being careful to get off the main street,he heard the tolling of a church-bell that was a melancholy reminder ofhis old home.
There did not appear to be any camp on the outskirts of the town. But asDuane sat his horse, peering around and undecided what further move tomake, he caught the glint of flickering lights through the darkness.Heading toward them, he rode perhaps a quarter of a mile to come upon agrove of mesquite. The brightness of several fires made the surroundingdarkness all the blacker. Duane saw the moving forms of men and heardhorses. He advanced naturally, expecting any moment to be halted.
"Who goes there?" came the sharp call out of the gloom.
Duane pulled his horse. The gloom was impenetrable.
"One man--alone," replied Duane.
"A stranger?"
"Yes."
"What do you want?"
"I'm trying to find the ranger camp."
"You've struck it. What's your errand?"
"I want to see Captain MacNelly."
"Get down and advance. Slow. Don't move your hands. It's dark, but I cansee."
Duane dismounted, and, leading his horse, slowly advanced a few paces.He saw a dully bright object--a gun--before he discovered the man whoheld it. A few more steps showed a dark figure blocking the trail. HereDuane halted.
"Come closer, stranger. Let's have a look at you," the guard ordered,curtly.
Duane advanced again until he stood before the man. Here the rays oflight from the fires flickered upon Duane's face.
"Reckon you're a stranger, all right. What's your name and your businesswith the Captain?"
Duane hesitated, pondering what best to say.
"Tell Captain MacNelly I'm the man he's been asking to ride into hiscamp--after dark," finally said Duane.
The ranger bent forward to peer hard at this night visitor. His mannerhad been alert, and now it became tense.
"Come here, one of you men, quick," he called, without turning in theleast toward the camp-fire.
"Hello! What's up, Pickens?" came the swift reply. It was followed by arapid thud of boots on soft ground. A dark form crossed the gleams fromthe fire-light. Then a ranger loomed up to reach the side of the guard.Duane heard whispering, the purport of which he could not catch. Thesecond ranger swore under his breath. Then he turned away and startedback.
"Here, ranger, before you go, understand this. My visit ispeaceful--friendly if you'll let it be. Mind, I was asked to comehere--after dark."
Duane's clear, penetrating voice carried far. The listening rangers atthe camp-fire heard what he said.
"Ho, Pickens! Tell that fellow to wait," replied an authoritative voice.Then a slim figure detached itself from the dark, moving group at thecamp-fire and hurried out.
"Better be foxy, Cap," shouted a ranger, in warning.
"Shut up--all of you," was the reply.
This officer, obviously Captain MacNelly, soon joined the two rangerswho were confronting Duane. He had no fear. He strode straight up toDuane.
"I'm MacNelly," he said. "If you're my man, don't mention yourname--yet."
All this seemed so strange to Duane, in keeping with much that hadhappened lately.
"I met Jeff Aiken to-day," said Duane. "He sent me--"
"You've met Aiken!" exclaimed MacNelly, sharp, eager, low. "By allthat's bully!" Then he appeared to catch himself, to grow restrained.
"Men, fall back, leave us alone a moment."
The rangers slowly withdrew.
"Buck Duane! It's you?" he whispered, eagerly.
"Yes."
"If I give my word you'll not be arrested--you'll be treatedfairly--will you come into camp and consult with me?"
"Certainly."
"Duane, I'm sure glad to meet you," went on MacNelly; and he extendedhis hand.
Amazed and touched, scarcely realizing this actuality, Duane gave hishand and felt no unmistakable grip of warmth.
"It doesn't seem natural, Captain MacNelly, but I believe I'm glad tomeet you," said Duane, soberly.
"You will be. Now we'll go back to camp. Keep your identity mum for thepresent."
He led Duane in the direction of the camp-fire.
"Pickers, go back on duty," he ordered, "and, Beeson, you look afterthis horse."
When Duane got beyond the line of mesquite, which had hid a good view ofthe camp-site, he saw a group of perhaps fifteen rangers sitting aroundthe fires, near a long low shed where horses were feeding, and a smalladobe house at one side.
"We've just had grub, but I'll see you get some. Then we'll talk," saidMacNelly. "I've taken up temporary quarters here. Have a rustler job onhand. Now, when you've eaten, come right into the house."
Duane was hungry, but he hurried through the ample supper that was setbefore him, urged on by curiosity and astonishment. The only wayhe could account for his presence there in a ranger's camp was thatMacNelly hoped to get useful information out of him. Still that wouldhardly have made this captain so eager. There was a mystery here, andDuane could scarcely wait for it to be solved. While eating he hadbent keen eyes around him. After a first quiet scrutiny the rangersapparently paid no more attention to him. They were all veterans inservice--Duane saw that--and rugged, powerful men of iron constitution.Despite the occasional joke and sally of the more youthful members, anda general conversation of camp-fire nature, Duane was not deceived aboutthe fact that his advent had been an unusual and striking one, which hadcaused an undercurrent of conjecture and even consternation among them.These rangers were too well trained to appear openly curious about theircaptain's guest. If they had not deliberately attempted to be obliviousof his presence Duane would have concluded they thought him an ordinaryvisitor, somehow of use to MacNelly. As it was, Duane felt a suspensethat must have been due to a hint of his identity.
He was not long in presenting himself at the door of the house.
"Come in and have a chair," said MacNelly, motioning for the one otheroccupant of the room to rise. "Leave us, Russell, and close the door.I'll be through these reports right off."
MacNelly sat at a table upon which was a lamp and various papers. Seenin the light he was a fine-looking, soldierly man of about forty years,dark-haired and dark-eyed, with a bronzed face, shrewd, stern, strong,yet not wanting in kindliness. He scanned hastily over some papers,fussed with them, and finally put them in envelopes. Without looking uphe pushed a cigar-case toward Duane, and upon Duane's refusal tosmoke he took a cigar, rose to light it at the lamp-chimney, and then,settling back in his chair, he faced Duane, making a vain attempt tohide what must have been the fulfilment of a long-nourished curiosity.
"Duane, I've been hoping for this for two years," he began.
Duane smiled a little--a smile that felt strange on his face. He hadnever been much of a talker. And speech here seemed more than ordinarilydifficult.
MacNelly must have felt that.
He looked long and earnestly at Duane, and his quick, nervous mannerchanged to grave thoughtfulness.
"I've lots to say, but where to begin," he mused. "Duane, you've hada hard life since you went on the dodge. I never met you before, don'tknow what you looked like as a boy. But I can s
ee what--well, evenranger life isn't all roses."
He rolled his cigar between his lips and puffed clouds of smoke.
"Ever hear from home since you left Wellston?" he asked, abruptly.
"No."
"Never a word?"
"Not one," replied Duane, sadly.
"That's tough. I'm glad to be able to tell you that up to just latelyyour mother, sister, uncle--all your folks, I believe--were well. I'vekept posted. But haven't heard lately."
Duane averted his face a moment, hesitated till the swelling left histhroat, and then said, "It's worth what I went through to-day to hearthat."
"I can imagine how you feel about it. When I was in the war--but let'sget down to the business of this meeting."
He pulled his chair close to Duane's.
"You've had word more than once in the last two years that I wanted tosee you?"
"Three times, I remember," replied Duane.
"Why didn't you hunt me up?"
"I supposed you imagined me one of those gun-fighters who couldn't takea dare and expected me to ride up to your camp and be arrested."
"That was natural, I suppose," went on MacNelly. "You didn't know me,otherwise you would have come. I've been a long time getting to you.But the nature of my job, as far as you're concerned, made me cautious.Duane, you're aware of the hard name you bear all over the Southwest?"
"Once in a while I'm jarred into realizing," replied Duane.
"It's the hardest, barring Murrell and Cheseldine, on the Texas border.But there's this difference. Murrell in his day was known to deserve hisinfamous name. Cheseldine in his day also. But I've found hundredsof men in southwest Texas who're your friends, who swear you nevercommitted a crime. The farther south I get the clearer this becomes.What I want to know is the truth. Have you ever done anything criminal?Tell me the truth, Duane. It won't make any difference in my plan.And when I say crime I mean what I would call crime, or any reasonableTexan."
"That way my hands are clean," replied Duane.
"You never held up a man, robbed a store for grub, stole a horse whenyou needed him bad--never anything like that?"
"Somehow I always kept out of that, just when pressed the hardest."
"Duane, I'm damn glad!" MacNelly exclaimed, gripping Duane's hand. "Gladfor you mother's sakel But, all the same, in spite of this, you are aTexas outlaw accountable to the state. You're perfectly aware that underexisting circumstances, if you fell into the hands of the law, you'dprobably hang, at least go to jail for a long term."
"That's what kept me on the dodge all these years," replied Duane.
"Certainly." MacNelly removed his cigar. His eyes narrowed andglittered. The muscles along his brown cheeks set hard and tense. Heleaned closer to Duane, laid sinewy, pressing fingers upon Duane's knee.
"Listen to this," he whispered, hoarsely. "If I place a pardon in yourhand--make you a free, honest citizen once more, clear your name ofinfamy, make your mother, your sister proud of you--will you swearyourself to a service, ANY service I demand of you?"
Duane sat stock still, stunned.
Slowly, more persuasively, with show of earnest agitation, CaptainMacNelly reiterated his startling query.
"My God!" burst from Duane. "What's this? MacNelly, you CAN'T be inearnest!"
"Never more so in my life. I've a deep game. I'm playing it square. Whatdo you say?"
He rose to his feet. Duane, as if impelled, rose with him. Ranger andoutlaw then locked eyes that searched each other's souls. In MacNelly'sDuane read truth, strong, fiery purpose, hope, even gladness, and afugitive mounting assurance of victory.
Twice Duane endeavored to speak, failed of all save a hoarse, incoherentsound, until, forcing back a flood of speech, he found a voice.
"Any service? Every service! MacNelly, I give my word," said Duane.
A light played over MacNelly's face, warming out all the grim darkness.He held out his hand. Duane met it with his in a clasp that menunconsciously give in moments of stress.
When they unclasped and Duane stepped back to drop into a chair MacNellyfumbled for another cigar--he had bitten the other into shreds--and,lighting it as before, he turned to his visitor, now calm and cool. Hehad the look of a man who had justly won something at considerablecost. His next move was to take a long leather case from his pocket andextract from it several folded papers.
"Here's your pardon from the Governor," he said, quietly. "You'll see,when you look it over, that it's conditional. When you sign this paper Ihave here the condition will be met."
He smoothed out the paper, handed Duane a pen, ran his forefinger alonga dotted line.
Duane's hand was shaky. Years had passed since he had held a pen. Itwas with difficulty that he achieved his signature. Buckley Duane--howstrange the name looked!
"Right here ends the career of Buck Duane, outlaw and gunfighter," saidMacNelly; and, seating himself, he took the pen from Duane's fingers andwrote several lines in several places upon the paper. Then with a smilehe handed it to Duane.
"That makes you a member of Company A, Texas Rangers."
"So that's it!" burst out Duane, a light breaking in upon hisbewilderment. "You want me for ranger service?"
"Sure. That's it," replied the Captain, dryly. "Now to hear what thatservice is to be. I've been a busy man since I took this job, and, asyou may have heard, I've done a few things. I don't mind telling youthat political influence put me in here and that up Austin way there's agood deal of friction in the Department of State in regard to whether ornot the ranger service is any good--whether it should be discontinued ornot. I'm on the party side who's defending the ranger service. I contendthat it's made Texas habitable. Well, it's been up to me to produceresults. So far I have been successful. My great ambition is to breakup the outlaw gangs along the river. I have never ventured in thereyet because I've been waiting to get the lieutenant I needed. You, ofcourse, are the man I had in mind. It's my idea to start way up the RioGrande and begin with Cheseldine. He's the strongest, the worst outlawof the times. He's more than rustler. It's Cheseldine and his gangwho are operating on the banks. They're doing bank-robbing. That's myprivate opinion, but it's not been backed up by any evidence. Cheseldinedoesn't leave evidences. He's intelligent, cunning. No one seems to haveseen him--to know what he looks like. I assume, of course, that you area stranger to the country he dominates. It's five hundred miles west ofyour ground. There's a little town over there called Fairdale. It's thenest of a rustler gang. They rustle and murder at will. Nobody knows whothe leader is. I want you to find out. Well, whatever way you decide isbest you will proceed to act upon. You are your own boss. You know suchmen and how they can be approached. You will take all the time needed,if it's months. It will be necessary for you to communicate with me, andthat will be a difficult matter. For Cheseldine dominates several wholecounties. You must find some way to let me know when I and my rangersare needed. The plan is to break up Cheseldine's gang. It's the toughestjob on the border. Arresting him alone isn't to be heard of. He couldn'tbe brought out. Killing him isn't much better, for his select men, theones he operates with, are as dangerous to the community as he is. Wewant to kill or jail this choice selection of robbers and break up therest of the gang. To find them, to get among them somehow, to learntheir movements, to lay your trap for us rangers to spring--that, Duane,is your service to me, and God knows it's a great one!"
"I have accepted it," replied Duane.
"Your work will be secret. You are now a ranger in my service. But noone except the few I choose to tell will know of it until we pull offthe job. You will simply be Buck Duane till it suits our purpose toacquaint Texas with the fact that you're a ranger. You'll see there'sno date on that paper. No one will ever know just when you entered theservice. Perhaps we can make it appear that all or most of your outlawryhas really been good service to the state. At that, I'll believe it'llturn out so."
MacNelly paused a moment in his rapid talk, chewed his cigar, drew hisbrows together in a dark
frown, and went on. "No man on the border knowsso well as you the deadly nature of this service. It's a thousand to onethat you'll be killed. I'd say there was no chance at all for any otherman beside you. Your reputation will go far among the outlaws. Maybethat and your nerve and your gun-play will pull you through. I'm hopingso. But it's a long, long chance against your ever coming back."
"That's not the point," said Duane. "But in case I get killed outthere--what--"
"Leave that to me," interrupted Captain MacNelly. "Your folks will knowat once of your pardon and your ranger duty. If you lose your life outthere I'll see your name cleared--the service you render known. You canrest assured of that."
"I am satisfied," replied Duane. "That's so much more than I've dared tohope."
"Well, it's settled, then. I'll give you money for expenses. You'llstart as soon as you like--the sooner the better. I hope to think ofother suggestions, especially about communicating with me."
Long after the lights were out and the low hum of voices had ceasedround the camp-fire Duane lay wide awake, eyes staring into theblackness, marveling over the strange events of the day. He was humble,grateful to the depths of his soul. A huge and crushing burden had beenlifted from his heart. He welcomed this hazardous service to the man whohad saved him. Thought of his mother and sister and Uncle Jim, of hishome, of old friends came rushing over him the first time in years thathe had happiness in the memory. The disgrace he had put upon them wouldnow be removed; and in the light of that, his wasted life of the past,and its probable tragic end in future service as atonement changed theiraspects. And as he lay there, with the approach of sleep finally dimmingthe vividness of his thought, so full of mystery, shadowy faces floatedin the blackness around him, haunting him as he had always been haunted.
It was broad daylight when he awakened. MacNelly was calling him tobreakfast. Outside sounded voices of men, crackling of fires, snortingand stamping of horses, the barking of dogs. Duane rolled out of hisblankets and made good use of the soap and towel and razor and brushnear by on a bench--things of rare luxury to an outlaw on the ride. Theface he saw in the mirror was as strange as the past he had tried sohard to recall. Then he stepped to the door and went out.
The rangers were eating in a circle round a tarpaulin spread upon theground.
"Fellows," said MacNelly, "shake hands with Buck Duane. He's on secretranger service for me. Service that'll likely make you all hump soon!Mind you, keep mum about it."
The rangers surprised Duane with a roaring greeting, the warmth of whichhe soon divined was divided between pride of his acquisition to theirranks and eagerness to meet that violent service of which their captainhinted. They were jolly, wild fellows, with just enough gravity intheir welcome to show Duane their respect and appreciation, while notforgetting his lone-wolf record. When he had seated himself in thatcircle, now one of them, a feeling subtle and uplifting pervaded him.
After the meal Captain MacNelly drew Duane aside.
"Here's the money. Make it go as far as you can. Better strike straightfor El Paso, snook around there and hear things. Then go to Valentine.That's near the river and within fifty miles or so of the edge of theRim Rock. Somewhere up there Cheseldine holds fort. Somewhere to thenorth is the town Fairdale. But he doesn't hide all the time in therocks. Only after some daring raid or hold-up. Cheseldine's got bordertowns on his staff, or scared of him, and these places we want to knowabout, especially Fairdale. Write me care of the adjutant at Austin.I don't have to warn you to be careful where you mail letters. Ride ahundred, two hundred miles, if necessary, or go clear to El Paso."
MacNelly stopped with an air of finality, and then Duane slowly rose.
"I'll start at once," he said, extending his hand to the Captain. "Iwish--I'd like to thank you."
"Hell, man! Don't thank me!" replied MacNelly, crushing the profferedhand. "I've sent a lot of good men to their deaths, and maybe you'reanother. But, as I've said, you've one chance in a thousand. And, byHeaven! I'd hate to be Cheseldine or any other man you were trailing.No, not good-by--Adios, Duane! May we meet again!"
BOOK II. THE RANGER