The Rustlers of Pecos County | Page 9

doings, and had urged my dismissal.
But she kept me and all the time pleaded like a sister to have me mend
my vicious ways. She believed what she was told about me, but had
faith in me despite that.
As for Sally, I had fallen hopelessly in love with her. By turns Sally
was indifferent to me, cold, friendly like a comrade, and dangerously
sweet.
Somehow she saw through me, knew I was not just what I pretended to
be. But she never breathed her conviction. She championed me. I
wanted to tell her the truth about myself because I believed the doubt of
me alone stood in the way of my winning her.
Still that might have been my vanity. She had never said she cared for
me although she had looked it.
This tangle of my personal life, however, had not in the least affected
my loyalty and duty to Vaughn Steele. Day by day I had grown more
attached to him, keener in the interest of our work.
It had been a busy month--a month of foundation building. My
vigilance and my stealthy efforts had not been rewarded by anything
calculated to strengthen our suspicions of Sampson. But then he had
been absent from the home very often, and was difficult to watch when
he was there.
George Wright came and went, too, presumably upon stock business. I
could not yet see that he was anything but an honest rancher, deeply
involved with Sampson and other men in stock deals; nevertheless, as a
man he had earned my contempt.
He was a hard drinker, cruel to horses, a gambler not above stacking
the cards, a quick-tempered, passionate Southerner.

He had fallen in love with Diane Sampson, was like her shadow when
at home. He hated me; he treated me as if I were the scum of the earth;
if he had to address me for something, which was seldom, he did it
harshly, like ordering a dog. Whenever I saw his sinister, handsome
face, with its dark eyes always half shut, my hand itched for my gun,
and I would go my way with something thick and hot inside my breast.
In my talks with Steele we spent time studying George Wright's
character and actions. He was Sampson's partner, and at the head of a
small group of Linrock ranchers who were rich in cattle and property, if
not in money.
Steele and I had seen fit to wait before we made any thorough
investigation into their business methods. Ours was a waiting game,
anyway.
Right at the start Linrock had apparently arisen in resentment at the
presence of Vaughn Steele. But it was my opinion that there were men
in Linrock secretly glad of the Ranger's presence.
What he intended to do was food for great speculation. His fame, of
course, had preceded him. A company of militia could not have had the
effect upon the wild element of Linrock that Steele's presence had.
A thousand stories went from lip to lip, most of which were false. He
was lightning swift on the draw. It was death to face him. He had killed
thirty men--wildest rumor of all.
He had the gun skill of Buck Duane, the craft of Cheseldine, the
deviltry of King Fisher, the most notorious of Texas desperadoes. His
nerve, his lack of fear--those made him stand out alone even among a
horde of bold men.
At first there had not only been great conjecture among the vicious
element, with which I had begun to affiliate myself, but also a very
decided checking of all kinds of action calculated to be conspicuous to
a keen eyed Ranger.

Steele did not hide, but during these opening days of his stay in Linrock
he was not often seen in town. At the tables, at the bars and lounging
places remarks went the rounds:
"Who's thet Ranger after? What'll he do fust off? Is he waitin' fer
somebody? Who's goin' to draw on him fust--an' go to hell? Jest about
how soon will he be found somewhere full of lead?"
Those whom it was my interest to cultivate grew more curious, more
speculative and impatient as time went by. When it leaked out
somewhere that Steele was openly cultivating the honest stay-at-home
citizens, to array them in time against the other element, then Linrock
showed its wolf teeth hinted of in the letters to Captain Neal.
Several times Steele was shot at in the dark and once slightly injured.
Rumor had it that Jack Blome, the gunman of those parts, was coming
in to meet Steele. Part of Linrock awakened and another part, much
smaller, became quieter, more secluded.
Strangers upon whom we could get no line mysteriously came and
went. The drinking, gambling, fighting in the