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To the Last Man

To the Last Man

Author: Zane Grey
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Chapter 1 1

Word Count: 6900    |    Released on: 28/11/2017

unpacked to camp at the edge of the cedars where a little rocky

n used to hot, dusty, glaring days on the barren lands. Stretching his long length beside a tiny rill of clear water that tinkled over the red stones, he drank thirstily. The water was cool, but it had an acrid taste-an alkali bite

istened to the yelps and to the moan of the cool wind in the cedars with a sense of satisfaction that these lone

've a hankerin' for waterfalls an' dark-green forests. Must be the Indi

its strange portent. It had been two months in reaching him, coming by traveler, by stage and train, and then by boat, and finally by stage

, but I never saw it so shaky

ALLY, A

hat Indian I reckon I am going to need bad. I am rich in cattle and horses. And my range here is the best I ever seen. Lately we have been losing stock. But that is not all nor so bad. Sheepmen have moved into the Tonto and are grazing down on Grass Vally. Cattlemen and sheepmen can never bide in this country. We have bad times ahead. Reckon I have more reasons to worry and need you, but you must wait to hear that by

ON I

been self-sufficient, it had been a surprise and somewhat of a shock. Weeks of

e 'way over sixty. But he never looked old.... So he's rich now an' losin' stock, an' goin'

ests and the thundering rivers; and this love came from his softer side. It had cost him a wrench to leave. And all the way by ship down the coast to San Diego and across the Sierra Madres by stage, and so on to this last overland travel by horseback, he had felt a retreating of the self that was tranquil and happy and a dominating of this unknown somber self, with its menacing possibilities. Yet despite a

en spurs to action that he had known in the uplands of Oregon, yet they were not wholly the same. He sensed an exhilaration similar to the effect of a strong, sweet wine. His horse and mule had fared well dur

Sage and grass in the open flats grew more luxuriously. Then came the pinyons, and presently among them the checker-barked junipers. Jean hailed the first pine tree with a hearty slap on the brown, rugged bark. It was a small dwarf pine struggling to live. The next one was larger, and after that came several, and beyond them pines stood up everywhere above the lower trees. Odor of pine needles mingled with the other dry smells that made the wind pleasant to Jean. In an hour from the first line of pines he had ridden beyond th

matter," he muttered, as he was about to remount. His horse was standing with ears up, looking ba

ng to be of exceeding interest to Jean Isbel. This man at a distance rode and looked like all the Arizonians Jean had seen, he had a superb se

ing up and halted se

nger!" he sa

He had a dust-colored, sun-burned face, long, lean, and hard, a huge sandy mustache that hid his mouth, and eyes of piercing light intensity. Not very m

e said, as he slipped the bit to

right," replied Jean

an' your last camp. Wal, where was

a dry, crisp ring. Jean felt the lac

name's Isbel," h

presently rebridled him; then with long swi

he said. "Everybody in the Tonto has

id you ask?" inqu

ted to see wh

'm not carin' very mu

n and each measured the other by

s he took a cigarette from his vest, kept time with his words. "But seein' you're one of the Isbels, I'll h

ied Jean. "An' I reckon who rile

tell you thet your old man gabbed like a woman down at Greaves's store. Bragged aboot you an' how you could fight an' how you could shoot an' how you could track a hoss or a m

o's we?" querie

epmen rangin' this Rim from Bla

e. It's true, I dare say, that he bragged, for he was given to bluster an' blow. An' he's old now. I can't help it if he bragged

our old man," replied Colter, as he turned his horse away toward the left. "Thet trail leadin' south

d from him. Colter had the hard face, the masked intent, the turn of speech that Jean had come to associate with dishonest men. Even if Jean had not been prejudiced, if he had known nothing of his father's

"Good-by to huntin' an' fishin

firs of Oregon, but any lover of the woods could be happy under them. Higher still he climbed until the forest spread before and around him like a level park, with thicketed ravines here and there on each side. And presently that deceitful level led to a higher bench upon which the pines towered, and were matched by beautiful trees he took for spruce. Heavily barked, with regular spreading branches, these conifers rose in symmetrica

cooking breakfast and packing, Jean did not make a very early start. On this last lap of his long journey he had slowed down. He was weary of hurrying; the change from weeks in the glaring sun and dust-laden wind to this sweet coot darkly green and brown forest was very welcome; he wanted to linger along the shaded trail. This day he made sure would see him reach the Rim. By and by he lost the trail. It had jus

s why he was unreasonable. But on the other hand this band of sheep had left a broad bare swath, weedless,

lowers peeped everywhere. The pines appeared far apart; gnarled oak trees showed rugged and gray again

d a camp fire and soon he caught sight of a curling blue column of smoke, and then a small peaked tent. Beyond the clump of oaks Jean encountered a Mexican lad carrying a carbine. The boy had a swarthy, p

slope, in the glades, and everywhere, were sheep. A few were grazing; many were lying down; most of them were ewes suckling white fleecy little la

to see another and older Mexican, from whom he might get information. The lad wal

nswer was forthcoming. Dropping his bridle, he went on, rather slowly,

n', st

lashed richly brown, but she was not Mexican. This fact, and the sudde

l.... I'm sort of lost-lookin' for the Rim-an' thought I'd fin

om her face. A faint suggestion of hostility likewise disappeared. Jean was not

glad to show

on I can breathe ea

dusty! I'm pretty tired. An' maybe this

Y'u're fro

es

and he still held it, rather deferentially,

ny man bared his haid to me." She uttered a little laugh in w

gaze upon him, and Jean had never met one just like it. Her eyes were rather a wide oval in shape, clear and steady, with shadows of thought in their amber-brown depths. They seemed to look through Jean, and his gaze dropped first. Then it was he saw her ragged homespun skirt and a few inches of brown, bare ankles, strong and round, and crude worn-out moccasins that failed to hide the shapeliness, of

rom Texas," said

a lazy Southern voice, pleasant t

ers an' ranchers from the old Lone Star state. I've worked for several. A

girls?" she inquired, t

id-quite a

u go wi

uess I did-a little," laughed Jean. "Sometimes on a Sunday

unts," said the

at?" as

rgotten. I had friends when we lived in Texas.... Three years ago.

eld beauty of curve and fullness and color that could not hide a certain sadness and bitterness. Then the whole flashing brown face changed for Jean. He saw that it was youn

. "I'm only a rough hunter an' fisherman-woodchopper an' horse tracker. Never

?" she ask

e," he repli

hen I have anythin' to sew with.... Look at my skirt-a dirty rag. An' I have only one other to my name.... Look!" Again a color tinged her cheeks, most becoming, and giving the lie to her action. But shame could not check her v

what you are is none of my business. But we met.... An' I reckon somethin' has happened-perhaps more to me than to you.... Now let me put you straight about clothes an' women. Reckon I know most women love nice things to wear an' think because clothes make the

t, was not nice. An' I don't want anyone thinkin' better of me than I deserve. My mother died in Texas, an' I've lived out heah in

ed to put out of his mind a growing

sheep herde

's been herders shot at. Just now we're short an' I have to fill in. But I like shepherdin' an

imed Jean, thoughtfully.

he sheepmen up on the Rim. Dad says there'll shore be hell to

s' side?" queried Jean, tryin

ied, with spirit. "But I'm bound to admit I think

w s

of his way to surround a cattleman an' sheep off his range. That started t

I heard' most all these Texans got r

y'u to, say that anywhere. My dad, for one, was not run out of Texas. Shore I never can see w

ay here always?" que

t's the use of thinkin'? People stay places until they drift away.

ertainly had no wish to annoy her. His mule had strayed off among the bleating sheep. Jean drove it back and then led his horse up to where the girl stood. She

?" he asked, turning

a mile or so. I'll walk down with y'u....

e suspected would concern his name. But she did not ask. Taking up her rifle sh

It was a small, pretty head, graceful, well held, and the thick hair on it was a shiny, soft brown. She wore it in a braid,

, and then he felt a rather vague pleasure in stalking beside her. Her profile was straig

ed, manifestly to her growing constraint. Presently Jean, having decided

she laughed the laugh of youth. "Shore you

isted, and his eyes searc

ool of me. I never meet anyone I care to talk to. Why should it not be plea

dn't think you made a fool of yourself. If I

ok for gladness. And because he wanted to appear calm and friendly, not t

quaintance. But I might not have another chance

eins showed in her cheeks. He noticed then a slight swelling quiver of her throat; and he became alive to its graceful contour, and to how full and pulsating it was, how nobly it set into the curve of her shoulder. Here in her quivering throat was the weakness of her,

I don't know who you are an' I don't care. You betrayed a good deal to me. You're not happy. You're lonely. An' if I didn't want to see you again

did not make any effort to withdraw it. So Jean, inhaling a deep breath and trying to see through his bewilderment, held on bravely. He imagined he felt a faint, warm, returning pressure.

n her quaint Southern drawl.

beside her without taking note of what was ahead of him.

ldest he had ever gazed upon, a hundred miles of blue distance across to an unflung mountain range, hazy purple against the sky. It seemed to be a stupen

e pass where sheep are driven to Phoenix an' Maricopa. Those big rough mountains to the south

art, a mountain-faced cliff, seemed to zigzag westward. Grand and bold were the promontories reaching out over the void. They ran toward the westering sun. Sweeping and impressive were the long li

ook down," s

e craggy broken cliffs merged into red-slided, cedar-greened slopes running down and down into gorges choked with forests, and from which soared up a roar of rushing waters. Slo

l!" excla

t is Arizona. I reckon I love THIS. The heigh

want to l

me heah. But not often do I see the Basin, an' f

d cure any misery, if you only see. I'm glad

ness and loneliness and beauty and grand

y you will meet me here," he said,

gainst that scene, she gave it life-wild, sweet, young life-the poignant meaning of which haunted yet eluded him. But she belonged there. Her eyes were again searching hi

Jean. An invisible and mighty force pulled him down to kiss them. W

-he gasped in amaze and sudden-dawning contrition-"I kisse

with a hand held out in unconscious appeal. By the same magic, perhaps, that had

s a little previous," she said, with a rather

ulted?" asked J

sed before. Shore

lass me with other men who've kissed you. I wasn't myself when I did it an' I'd have gone on my knees to as

hat seemed to him a vague doubt

It was a mean trick for me to kiss you. A girl alone in the woods who's gone out of h

presently pointed far ou

t's about fifteen miles. Ride along the Rim that way till

looked across the saddle at the girl. Her abstraction, as she gazed away over the purple depths suggested loneliness and wistfulness. She was not thinking of that scene

ood-by," he said,

e lifted the little carbine to the hollow of her

s good-by?"

orrow or good-by foreve

w eagerly he spoke, on impulse, without a consider

say I w

care to after-" he replied,

r to-morrow about mid-afternoon. Right he

rill, a pleasant lightness of enthusiasm, such as always stirred boyishly in him at a prospect

ecollectin' that y'u told

ference does that make? I said I didn't care who o

t non-plussed, with the level brown gaze stea

win' any more about eac

ificant. What's a name, anyhow? Still, people an' things have to be distinguished. I'll c

d Jean, forced to confession.

start. "Shore y'u can't be son of old G

e secret was out. "I'm the youngest. I'm twenty-f

eaving her quite pale, with eyes that began to

burst out, passionately. "D

aisers who 're on the outs with my father. That's why I had to tell you I'm Jean Isbel...

of her ease and her soft wistfulness, she stood before him one instant, entirel

her; but the resentment roused by her suddenly avowed hostility held him mute in his tracks. He watched her disappear, and when the b

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