The Rustlers of Pecos County | Page 6

said.
"Won't you come in?" she said graciously.
Steele had to bend his head to enter the door. I went in with him, an
intrusion, perhaps, that in the interest of the moment she appeared not
to notice.

Steele seemed to fill the room with his giant form. His face was fine,
stern, clear cut, with blue or gray eyes, strangely penetrating. He was
coatless, vestless. He wore a gray flannel shirt, corduroys, a big gun
swinging low, and top boots reaching to his knees.
He was the most stalwart son of Texas I had seen in many a day, but
neither his great stature nor his striking face accounted for something I
felt--a something spiritual, vital, compelling, that drew me.
"Mr. Steele, I'm pleased to meet you," said Miss Sampson. "This is my
cousin, Sally Langdon. We just arrived--I to make this my home, she to
visit me."
Steele smiled as he bowed to Sally. He was easy, with a kind of rude
grace, and showed no sign of embarrassment or that beautiful girls
were unusual to him.
"Mr. Steele, we've heard of you in Austin," said Sally with her eyes
misbehaving.
I hoped I would not have to be jealous of Steele. But this girl was a
little minx if not altogether a flirt.
"I did not expect to be received by ladies," replied Steele. "I called
upon Mr. Sampson. He would not see me. I was to tell my business to
his daughter. I'm glad to know you, Miss Sampson and your cousin, but
sorry you've come to Linrock now."
"Why?" queried both girls in unison.
"Because it's--oh, pretty rough--no place for girls to walk and ride."
"Ah! I see. And your business has to do with rough places," said Miss
Sampson. "Strange that papa would not see you. Stranger that he
should want me to hear your business. Either he's joking or wants to
impress me.
"Papa tried to persuade me not to come. He tried to frighten me with

tales of this--this roughness out here. He knows I'm in earnest, how I'd
like to help somehow, do some little good. Pray tell me this business."
"I wished to get your father's cooperation in my work."
"Your work? You mean your Ranger duty--the arresting of rough
characters?"
"That, yes. But that's only a detail. Linrock is bad internally. My job is
to make it good."
"A splendid and worthy task," replied Miss Sampson warmly. "I wish
you success. But, Mr. Steele, aren't you exaggerating Linrock's
wickedness?"
"No," he answered forcibly.
"Indeed! And papa refused to see you--presumably refused to cooperate
with you?" she asked thoughtfully.
"I take it that way."
"Mr. Steele, pray tell me what is the matter with Linrock and just what
the work is you're called upon to do?" she asked seriously. "I heard
papa say that he was the law in Linrock. Perhaps he resents interference.
I know he'll not tolerate any opposition to his will. Please tell me. I may
be able to influence him."
I listened to Steele's deep voice as he talked about Linrock. What he
said was old to me, and I gave heed only to its effect.
Miss Sampson's expression, which at first had been earnest and grave,
turned into one of incredulous amaze. She, and Sally too, watched
Steele's face in fascinated attention.
When it came to telling what he wanted to do, the Ranger warmed to
his subject; he talked beautifully, convincingly, with a certain strange,
persuasive power that betrayed how he worked his way; and his fine
face, losing its stern, hard lines, seemed to glow and give forth a spirit

austere, yet noble, almost gentle, assuredly something vastly different
from what might have been expected in the expression of a
gun-fighting Ranger. I sensed that Miss Sampson felt this just as I did.
"Papa said you were a hounder of outlaws--a man who'd rather kill than
save!" she exclaimed.
The old stern cast returned to Steele's face. It was as if he had suddenly
remembered himself.
"My name is infamous, I am sorry to say," he replied.
"You have killed men?" she asked, her dark eyes dilating.
Had any one ever dared ask Steele that before? His face became a mask.
It told truth to me, but she could not see, and he did not answer.
"Oh, you are above that. Don't--don't kill any one here!"
"Miss Sampson, I hope I won't." His voice seemed to check her. I had
been right in my estimate of her character--young, untried, but all pride,
fire, passion. She was white then, and certainly beautiful.
Steele watched her, could scarcely have failed to see the white gleam of
her beauty, and all that evidence of a quick and noble heart.
"Pardon me, please, Mr. Steele," she said, recovering her composure.