Twin Sombreros by Zane Grey

Author:Zane Grey
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781634500807
Publisher: Skyhorse Publishing
Published: 2015-08-24T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER

9

WAL, Bess, air yu meanin’ daid man’s boots?” queried Brazos, as he stepped between them.

“Oh—Brazos!” gasped the girl.

Surface’s visage changed instantly, markedly in color, monstrously in expression. The surprise was so complete that had Brazos sought more proof of the man’s perfidy he would have seen it with the mask off. Unquestionably for an instant Surface thought his death was imminent.

“What yu raggin’ my girl for?” asked Brazos, with a pretense of jealousy.

“Your—girl!” ejaculated Surface, huskily, his jaw ceasing to wobble. “She deceived you, Keene—same as all of us. . . . She’s Syvertsen’s—”

“Daughter, yu mean?” interposed Brazos.

The rancher swerved. As his first shocking fear subsided he began to recover his nerve. “Daughter—hell! She’s no more Syvertsen’s daughter than mine.”

“So yu say? Wal, what is she, then?”

“What could she be, Keene? For a cowboy who’s supposed to be so damned smart you’re sure a fool. . . .”

“That’ll do, Surface,” cut in Bess, coming from behind Brazos. “I meant to tell him myself and leave Las Animas. Take care you don’t drive me to tell him what you are!”

Brazos jerked as if stung. That was a liberation of his pent-up force. But the imperative need of pretense still persisted.

“What the hell!” he flashed. “Bess, I don’t like this talk between yu an’ him. But I trust yu. . . . Surface, I always thought there was somethin’ queer aboot yu.”

Dealing Surface a powerful left-handed blow, Brazos knocked him flat. The rancher, scrambling up, stuttering maledictions, lifted a bloody, distorted visage. “You’ll pay for this—outrage—you”

“Aw, go for yore gun,” snorted Brazos, contemptuously.

But if Surface had a gun on his person he made no move to get at it. Surface now concerned himself about the several witnesses to this scene.

“This cowboy is drunk,” he said, thickly, as he faced them, and began to brush dust from his black coat. “Another example for citizens of Las Animas. We’ve got to have law and order here.”

“Bah! Who told yu yu were a citizen of Las Animas?” retorted Brazos. “Yu’re not even Western, Surface. Yu don’t belong oot heah. An’ if yu’re gonna stay I advise yu to get law an’ order—a hell of a lot.”

Surface controlled a malignant rage. He had sense enough to see that he was impotent in the Western creed of man to man. But he could not control his expression, which flamed demonically upon Brazos and Bess, as he lunged away, colliding with the door in his hurry. Brazos watched him a moment. The man was not big or strong in any sense. Brazos marveled that he had lasted as long as he had. To compare Raine Surface with Sewall McCoy, or any of the great cattle thieves, would have been to insult them.

“Come—Brazos,” said Bess, low-voiced, and she touched his arm.

“Doggone it, Bess!” complained Brazos, going with her into the street. “I come pretty near gettin’ sore.”

“You well had reason,” she replied, composedly. “I’m sorry you saw me with Surface. You might believe that influenced me—to tell you—what I must.

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