The Lone Star Ranger: A Romance of the Border by Zane Grey (kiss me liar novel english .txt) 📕

Then a slim figure detached itself from the dark, moving group at the camp-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 rangers who were confronting Duane. He had no fear. He strode straight up to Duane.

“I'm MacNelly,” he said. “If you're my man, don't mention your name—yet.”

All this seemed so strange to Duane, in keeping with much that had happened lately.

“I met Jeff Aiken to-day,” said Duane. “He sent me—”

“You've met Aiken!” exclaimed MacNelly, sharp, eager, low. “By all that'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 treated fairly—will you come into camp and consult with me?”

“Certainly.”

“Duane, I'm sure glad to meet you,” went on MacNelly; and he extended his hand.

Amazed and touched, scarcely realizing this actuality, Duane gave his hand and felt no unmistakable grip of warmth.

“It doesn't seem natural, Captain MacNelly, but I believe I'm glad to meet you,” said Duane, soberly.

“You will be. Now we'll go back to camp. Keep your identity mum for the present.”

He led Duane in the direction of the camp-fire.

“Pickers, go back on duty,” he ordered, “and, Beeson, you look after this horse.”

When Duane got beyond the line of mesquite, which had hid a good view of the camp-site, he saw a group of perhaps fifteen rangers sitting around the fires, near a long low shed where horses were feeding, and a small adobe house at one side.

“We've just had grub, but I'll see you get some. Then we'll talk,” said MacNelly. “I've taken up temporary quarters here. Have a rustler job on hand. Now, when you've eaten, come right into the house.”

Duane was hungry, but he hurried through the ample supper that was set before him, urged on by curiosity and astonishment. The only way he could account for his presence there in a ranger's camp was that MacNelly hoped to get useful information out of him. Still that would hardly have made this captain so eager. There was a mystery here, and Duane could scarcely wait for it to be solved. While eating he had bent keen eyes around him. After a first quiet scrutiny the rangers apparently paid no more attention to him. They were all veterans in service—Duane saw that—and rugged, powerful men of iron constitution. Despite the occasional joke and sally of the more youthful members, and a general conversation of camp-fire nature, Duane was not deceived about the fact that his advent had been an unusual and striking one, which had caused an undercurrent of conjecture and even consternation among them. These rangers were too well trained to appear openly curious about their captain's guest. If they had not deliberately attempted to be oblivious of his presence Duane would have concluded they thought him an ordinary visitor, somehow of use to MacNelly. As it was, Duane felt a suspense that 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 other occupant 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. Seen in 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 up he pushed a cigar-case toward Duane, and upon Duane's refusal to smoke 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 to hide 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 had never been much of a talker. And speech here seemed more than ordinarily difficult.

MacNelly must have felt that.

He looked long and earnestly at Duane, and his quick, nervous manner changed to grave thoughtfulness.

“I've lots to say, but where to begin,” he mused. “Duane, you've had a hard life since you went on the dodge. I never met you before, don't know what you looked like as a boy. But I can see what—well, even ranger 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 lately your mother, sister, uncle—all your folks, I believe—were well. I've kept posted. But haven't heard lately.”

Duane averted his face a moment, hesitated till the swelling left his throat, and then said, “It's worth what I went through to-day to hear that.”

“I can imagine how you feel about it. When I was in the war—but let's get 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 to see 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 take a 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 his infamous name. Cheseldine in his day also. But I've found hundreds of men in