Kitabı oxu: «The Silver Desert»

Ernest Haycox

The Silver Desert

Published by Good Press, 2022

goodpress@okpublishing.info

EAN 4066338086020

Table of Contents

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

THE END

CHAPTER 1

Table of Contents

DRIVING from Carson to Reno, Lily Tennant saw the sullen banner of dust boil up in the valley and cross the highway like smoke from a grass fire. When she came nearer, pressing a slim foot on the brake pedal, its yellow cloud billowed against her and dimmed the burning brilliance of the Nevada sun. Squarely blocking the highway, a man sat in the saddle of a true palomino pony and presented her with a long broad back. Cattle filed out of the desert on the left, crossed the road and went bawling and fretful into the desert on the right, lumbering hooves churning up the bitter alkali. Lily Tennant came to a full stop and sounded her horn.

The horseman, seeming to count the passing stock, didn't bother to move. Settling back on a leather seat that stung her with its soaked-in heat, Lily knew then she had made a mistake in pulling the top of the roadster down at Carson. As long as the car was in motion there was some breeze to cut the furnace-like temperature of the afternoon; but trapped here in the desolate open the sun instantly scorched her exposed skin. She laid her arm on the edge of the door and drew it sharply back; the enamel was that hot. The car's chromium trim threw off a thousand slivers of sulky light—and her wrist watch told her she had been waiting five minutes. She tried the horn again.

A young steer bolted from the stream of beef, whereupon a second rider appeared from the obscure haze and turned it back into line. A heavier billow of this acrid dust rolled down upon Lily Tennant and she bowed her head against such insistent misery and saw her dress turning to a grimy drab. When she looked up again the rear vision mirror showed her a still, slim face flushed and faintly damp. Actually, her makeup—as little as there was of it—was dissolving, and the ivory smoothness of her forehead was really dirty. She was, she thought with growing outrage, a complete wreck and nothing but immersion in ice water and a change from the skin out would ever make her the same woman again.

And there the man sat, another strong and dumb character of the wide open spaces, ignoring her torture. Lily Tennant, whom Hollywood knew as a marvel of self-discipline, had a temper as well and now she suddenly let it go and banged the horn button with a violence she hoped would express the pure venom of her feelings.

The tall man wheeled his horse reluctantly and rode back to her car with a deliberation that was unutterably wicked. All she saw of him as he bent slightly from his saddle was a steel-gray glance and sun-bleached brows above a bandanna covering the rest of his face. The hair showing beneath his hat was black as ink, the exposed surface of his face was deeply tanned.

"After all," said Lily Tennant, acidly quiet, "this is a state highway."

"That's right."

"So—haven't I been punished enough?"

He hooked a leg around the saddle horn; and that indolent gesture, too, served to feed her just anger. Nor did it help to know that his glance, solidly steady, saw her at her cooked and wilted worst. He said: "Why?"

"For daring to honk at you when I came up here ten minutes ago."

"Wrong guess," he said, and afterwards thought to pull the bandanna down from his face. Yellow dust puffed up when he brushed it aside. He had long, solid lips and the rest of his features were smooth and taciturn and indifferent, matching the inscrutable gray of his eyes. "I am only trying to get my cattle across the road," he added.

"I am only trying to get to Reno."

"You'll have plenty of time to waste after you get there," he observed quietly.

"If that could possibly be any of your business," Lily Tennant retorted.

Instantly she regretted the open anger of her words, recalling the shrewd observation of Sam Wein in Hollywood who had done so much for her. "You got a temper," he had said. "It's the electricity that pushes you on. But don't never waste your temper on the wrong things, Lily. Save it for the times when an explosion will blast something that's got to be blasted."

"Sorry," said the man on the horse. His tipped-down face was young, but as masculine as any she had ever seen. He was slim. His hands folded across the horn, were heavy and his shoulders moved now and then with a faint restlessness. Physically quiet as he was, Lily Tennant felt the impact of a willful personality drastically curbed behind the grave cheeks. She saw her words hadn't penetrated his guard and she ceased to regret them.

"I wasn't trying to be personal," he added. "Only stating a fact. But maybe I might as well commit the sin I've been spanked for. From California, aren't you?"

"As the license plate will tell you."

"I don't need to see the license plate. Your temper—which is accustomed to being obeyed—tells me." The soft, spurious urbanity at once reached its mark; she felt herself being put in place. His sudden grin only ground the injury in. He removed his hat. "I apologize for blocking your royal signal." The second rider appeared from the alkali fog again and shut off the stream of cattle.

Lily kicked on the engine and moved the car forward abreast the tall man. "Thank you, Moses," she said succinctly, "for commanding the waters to divide." Her head bowed with an exaggerated respect and then the long delayed roadster roared out of the confusion into the full punishment of that burning Nevada afternoon. She struck the junction of the Reno-Virginia City road furiously, spewed a storm of shoulder gravel behind and pressed her shoe against the foot throttle with nothing less than manslaughter in her heart. Reno's buildings, just ahead, were outlined against an atmosphere that seemed to flow like liquid glass. The smell of the earth was tinder-dry. Inside the town limits, she drove more sedately across the Truckee, stopped in front of a house pleasantly surrounded by locusts, and left the car.

Even on this hot day she went up the walk with a stride that had in it the faintest touch of a swagger, with a quick rhythm that synchronized and turned utterly graceful the supple members of her body. She was a slender girl, somewhat above the average height and her shoulders, small and straight, were presented squarely at the world in a manner that flaunted serene confidence like a banner. Four years of fighting her way up through the Hollywood extra ranks had given her that; but the unquenchable vitality so apparent in every motion was her birthright.

Hannah opened the door—Hannah being a dark, plain woman with a slightly resigned expression—and Lily let out a long sigh as she passed into the shaded coolness of the living room. She removed her hat impatiently and threw it on a divan; and her heavy brown hair, thus released, fell turbulently down across a white forehead.

"Hannah, I'm wrecked. Fill the tub."

"Yes, ma'am. There's three telegrams."

"Is Kit Christopher here?"

"No, ma'am. Mr. Timmy Akin called about an extra guest. May I know how many there will be for dinner?"

"Oh, eight or ten. It doesn't matter. You can handle them. And mix me a glass of iced lemonade, Hannah. A tall one."

Hannah contrived to put sorrowing patience into her "yes, ma'am," and went from the room in soft-shoed silence. Hannah's manner, Lily knew, was purely fictitious; for Hannah could rise to any crisis. At the living room table, Lily Tennant looked down on the three yellow telegram envelopes lying there and wondered if she had ever sufficiently thanked Jay Stuart. For when the days of cooking her own breakfast over a glass flame had come to an end—only two weeks ago she had walked from Superb's office with the contract that meant stardom in her pocket—it was Jay Stuart who had brought Hannah to her with the briefest explanation. "This is your personal maid and your cook—the only one in California you want." Jay Stuart knew so much about the good things in life.

Standing there, Lily delayed opening the telegrams, her expression faintly darkened by thought. Her face was not extraordinarily beautiful; it had not the possibilities of mystery or graphic storminess of the great stars. The even contours of her features did not lend themselves to the creation of glamour, to shadowed subtleness. Lily Tennant, as far as Hollyvvood was concerned, was a type—and that type was definitely the American Girl. But the odd, deep powder-blue coloring of her eyes lifted her completely out of the commonplace definition of type; for in those eyes was a directness as true as the flight of an arrow and a depth that suggested many things. It was Sam Wein, foxy old press agent, who had defined Lily Tennant. "You ain't Continental. You ain't the face that launched a thousand ships. That stuff's dime a dozen now. You're Lily Tennant, see? You're what the American man dreams of. Get it? You've got fire and laughter, you're loyal and you're straight. You could carry a water bucket on a ranch or move through a palace and never miss a step either way. You're a good scout. But get this, Lily. Beyond all that, when you look at a man you're a woman all the way through. A full-blooded woman—and it gets into the gelatin—and you'll be as great as the greatest of them some day. Am I telling you?"

She ripped open one of the envelopes and pulled out the message. It was from Jay Stuart, who had so swiftly assumed a major share of her attention these recent days:

PLAY YOUR GAME WITH THE STUDIO AS YOU THINK BEST NEVER LET THEM TAKE YOU TOO MUCH FOR GRANTED BUT DON'T OVERPLAY YOUR INDEPENDENCE RIGHT NOW WAIT TILL YOU'VE MADE YOUR FIRST PICTURE YOU HAVE BEEN GONE A WEEK AND I HEAR SUPERBS GETTING RESTLESS ABOUT IT IT ISN'T GOOD POLITICS TO GUM UP THEIR SCHEDULE BETTER COME BACK ANYHOW I MISS YOU HOLLYWOOD IS PRETTY EMPTY FOR THIS OLD TROUPER WHILE YOU ARE AWAY REMEMBER I SAID YOU WERE GOING A LONG WAY IN PICTURES AND THAT I WANTED TO TRAVEL AS FAR DOWN THAT ROAD WITH YOU AS YOU WILL LET ME JAY

It was a perfect projection of his personality—discerning, very smooth, gently insistent. She laid the message back on the table and pursed her expressive lips; she let her glance touch the platinum bracelet on her right wrist. Hannah spoke from the hall.

"Your tub's ready, Miss Lily. Was there any particular dessert you wanted served tonight?"

"Anything cold," said Lily, and went instantly to the tub. Relief sailed through her when she stepped into the water and she felt regret again for having lost her temper on the road. Sam Wein would have disapproved, and when she thought of Sam's fat and homely face beaming through the smoke of an ever present cigar she wished he were in Reno to give her counsel she so desperately needed. Four years of bitterest struggle lay behind. She had what she wanted, a contract that meant stardom. She wasn't afraid of failure—never of that. But stardom meant the end of all her security and it meant the beginning of something she saw vaguely, and dreaded as she saw it. It was why she had fled Hollywood. Here in comparative quiet she had hoped to think it out.

The phone rang. Hannah's soft tread shuffled down the hall and Hannah's voice, without any expression said: "She's busy, Mr. Akin. Wait a moment." Outside the bathroom door Hannah said: "It's Mr. Timmy Akin wanting to know if he may bring another guest."

"Of course. That makes nine, doesn't it?"

"Ten," said Hannah sadly and went away.

Out of the tub, Lily Tennant studied herself candidly in the panel mirror. It had been a mistake to suppose that one could think any more clearly in Reno than in Hollywood. Something happened when you stepped up from the ranks and became an individual personality. People surrounded you. Camp followers and self-seekers and strange new friends. There wasn't any privacy any more.

Kit Christopher's amused tones came through the door. "I'm home, darling. People who sing in bathrooms always come to bad ends."

"Have I been singing?"

"Perhaps it was a soliloquy."

"I seem to discover I've already come to a bad end, Kit."

"Well, sin is such a comfort when you get to know it."

Lily slid into mules and a wrap, poked the edges of her thick brown hair carelessly back from her forehead. Coming out of the bathroom she found Kit Christopher limp on the divan, blowing smoke circles at the ceiling. Lily settled in a chair and sipped at her waiting lemonade.

"Been slumming?"

"Reviving old memories. Bob Nesbitt and I were divorced here three years ago. Bob came up just before the final decree. We had a wonderful week—and we parted better friends than ever. I wasn't his property any more and he treated me as though I were a desirable woman again. Love's got some funny angles, honey."

She was, Lily thought, representative of all that Hollywood stood for—an urbane, truly sophisticated woman with a gleam of humor in her eyes that covered a very quick mind. In a way she was hard as nails, unsentimental and unafraid of anything. What affection she possessed was saved for her few friends. Tall and quite slender, and not more than thirty, she did better than any other character actress in Hollywood, the civilized, ultra-modern drawing room type. All her keen, faintly dusky features were quizzically alert; and two pearl drops displayed on ears from which her black hair was pulled partially back lent the last immaculate touch. She was a smiling worldling, seeming to possess an ironic wisdom too definite ever to be disturbed.

"What've you been brooding about, honey?"

Lily rose and went to the table, handing Kit the telegram from Jay Stuart. As an afterthought she took up the others. One was from Sam Wein:

IF THIS ABSENCE IS AN ACT GIVE ME MY CUE IF YOU ARE MAD ABOUT SOMETHING WHY DON'T YOU LET OLD SAM KNOW SUPERBS MAKING FUNNY NOISES AM I ASKING SAM

The other, from Rex Gilman, Superb executive, was more brief and pointed.

LITTLE GIRLS CAN'T AFFORD TEMPERAMENT WE HAVE A PICTURE TO SHOOT TAKE TONIGHTS PLANE REX

She passed these to Kit and went back to her chair. But she didn't sit down. She stood in front of Kit.

"I'm not putting on an act, Kit. I'm not going temperamental."

"Of course not. You got stage fright and ran away."

"More than that, Kit."

Kit Christopher's expression reminded Lily then of Jay Stuart. It held the same bland, material wisdom. "I knew something was bothering you," said Kit. "But, of course, I wasn't asking."

"Look, Kit, as long as I was an extra girl, nobody paid much attention to me. I was just Lily Tennant. I could do what I pleased and act as I pleased without being watched or criticized. I was a normal person. I'm not now."

"Didn't you see that coming?" queried Kit gently.

Lily's answer was slow. "No—I guess not. I was so busy fighting for a place in the sun that I never gave it a thought. Well, overnight I've become Lily Tennant, a possible star. I have lost all my privacy. If I go on I'll never get that back."

"No—you never will."

Lily impelled by an energy that seldom let her remain inactive, moved around the room. "That isn't frightening me so much. It's another thing. Let's not fool ourselves, Kit. I'm saying good-bye to something else—whether I want to or not. Decency, Kit."

Kit Christopher's lips made an enigmatic curve. Lily went hurriedly on.

"There's a lot of fine things and fine people in Hollywood. But there's a lot of rottenness too. And when any girl becomes a star it is the rottenness the world thinks of. Hollywood has been kind to me. But Hollywood can be very cruel. People there will put the worst implication on every word I say, every step I take. I'm just common property for everybody to share. All the same old dirty stories, the same sly winks, the same raised eyebrows—that's what's ahead, Kit."

Kit Christopher looked across at Lily Tennant's platinum bracelet. "By any chance are you thinking of that?"

Lily lowered her eyes. "I took it from Jay because he was very kind to me. Because he seemed to get so much pleasure from giving it."

"Also," said Kit Christopher, with a faint dry drawl, "because it was flattering, because when Jay Stuart passes out a platinum bracelet to a girl it means she is definitely on the way up."

"Yes," agreed Lily, quite candid. "But I didn't see the other side of it until a day ago."

"What other side?"

"As far as Hollywood is concerned I became Jay's woman when I put this bracelet on."

Kit Christopher bent to crush her cigarette in a tray. She didn't look directly at Lily. "It's a game with Jay. He's been in pictures since the ark—once he was a star in his own right. He's seen them all come and go. What means more to him now than anything is his reputation for picking the girls who will be tomorrow's box office hits. When he gave you the bracelet he was laying his bet on you."

"Yes?" said Lily, openly skeptical.

Kit's smile was ironic. "I'm not defending the animal, darling. He'll take whatever he can get from you. He'll be insistent about that, for he is a lady's man. If you see it his way, that's his luck. He hasn't any scruples there at all. But if you stick by your guns he'll admire you all the more and still plug for you."

"Until a new girl comes along."

"Certainly," said Kit equably. "It's his fun and his money, isn't it? It's a game with him and he'll play it either way you insist. I suppose many people would call Jay a thorough-going scoundrel. I have always thought him a gentleman after his own lights. Take what you can get from him. He expects you to. As for the other—keep whatever standard you wish and never mind what Hollywood says."

"Kit," said Lily, "I'm afraid."

"Of what?"

"I hate to get mud on me. I hate to think that some of the dirt may creep beneath my skin. I know what I am now but I don't know what I may become. If I go on, Kit, I'm leaving one Lily Tennant behind. We'll never see her again."

Kit Christopher's answer was abruptly impatient. "If you are going to be a star you have got to believe in yourself utterly. You'll have to be cruel at times, and calculating and egotistical. Some things aren't going to be pretty—that's the price of being a star. Above all you'll have to be completely indifferent to the abuse the public throws at you. Even when you know they think your private life is a scandal you've got to smile back."

"I don't like that," said Lily with an extraordinary sharpness.

Kit Christopher smiled. "Did anyone tell you your eyes glow beautifully when you're roused?"

"I don't want to be pulled out of shape. I don't want to be an abnormal human being."

"Lily," said Kit, "why are you worrying? You are one of the few women as lovely off the screen as on it."

Lily Tennant's shadowed gravity dissolved. She couldn't help smiling. "Kit, you're a smoothie."

Kit reached out to touch Lily's arm. "It's hard to sit by and watch innocence get its first shock, Lily. But you'll become hardened to it."

"Should I?"

"We won't go into that, darling. Who's coming for dinner?"

"Just people. Kit, are you at all serious about Timmy Akin?"

Kit Christopher thrust a half-amused glance at Lily and rose and turned to her bedroom. It was a complete answer and didn't need any added definition. But at the door she swung her shoulders slantingly on Lily. "How can you discourage an airedale?"

"Don't be cruel. Timmy's nice."

The older woman's face was utterly smooth; but there was a reluctant sadness in her tone. "The day will come when you'll be just as cruel. Because in self defense you'll have to be. More cruel than I am now—for you are going higher than I can ever go."

THERE were seven people enjoying cocktails in the living room when Lily turned to the kitchen to see how the dinner looked; Judge Sillavan and his wife, two young unmarried couples of the town and Kit Christopher whose smile lay unchangeable and enigmatic on her lips. When Lily returned, the party was made, for Timmy Akin had arrived with his guest. Seeing that guest, Lily suddenly put down her cocktail glass, a deeper color tinting her cheeks. She straightened, though she did not realize it, and her chin lifted. She went quietly over.

Timmy, whose chief effort was always to please people, grinned happily. "You wanted to know an authentic cattleman, Lily. So here's one. May I present Tom Sebastian of the Barrier ranch? This is Lily Tennant, Tom."

For one small moment neither moved. Looking up to him, Lily saw his features tighten and she instantly guessed he was wondering how best to handle the awkward situation—this man who had held her up with his cattle on the Reno-Carson road. Beside Timmy, who was small and neutral-colored, he was strikingly solid, arrestingly alive. Actually he was tall, taller than she had first noticed. He was dressed in a fine-materialed gray suit and there was a looseness about the coat to accommodate that restless motion of his big shoulders which she had noticed before. Against the whiteness of his shirt his skin was quite dark; and she felt the steadiness of his glance. Timmy stirred, not understanding the stretch of this silence. The rest of the people in the room had ceased speaking.

"It was a pleasant thought, Timmy," said Lily, matching Sebastian's own even calm. She extended her hand to the man. "And it was nice of you to come."

As he bowed she caught a quick and vanishing streak of humor in his gray eyes. He said, taking her hand: "That reassures me, temporarily."

He had finesse, Lily decided, and turned to introduce him to the rest of the party. But Kit Christopher smiled frankly on the man and said, "Timmy introduced me to Mr. Sebastian the other day." And it was immediately obvious that the Reno people knew him well. Judge Sillavan spoke with a heartiness she could not miss. "That's good looking beef you drove in today, Tom."

"It ought to be," Sebastian observed. "I'm paying for the privilege of raising it—according to the market."

"Why don't you get out of the business then?" suggested Kit.

"Cattlemen don't change—they just die."

Lily moved to the table where the glasses were and paused, watching this Tom Sebastian as talk went idly on. He stood with a balanced straightness, as though ready to whirl, and behind his calm she detected once more that recklessness of spirit which colored his ironic words. He, was talking to Sillavan but his glance went over to Kit Christopher and remained there a moment; and then it turned and touched Lily with the same careful attention. He was, she guessed, analyzing what he saw. She picked up a cocktail glass and crossed to him, handing it over. The judge retreated. For a moment Lily had Sebastian to herself.

He said: "If the situation is embarrassing to you I'll be glad to duck out."

Lily matched his cool, blunt manner. "I am not embarrassed."

"Cattle," he said, "sweat off flesh rapidly in hot weather. That's why I seemed so anxious to get them across the road. I'm sorry about it."

"Why apologize for an honest impulse? You were irritated; So was I. Let's not lie about it now."

He drank his cocktail and his eyes showed a quickening interest as they studied her. It was, she thought, the dangerous gray color that made the impact of his glance so much like a jolt of electricity. "Just water under the bridge?"

"That's it."

His grin was a quick break of light across watchful reserve. "Good enough."

Hannah announced dinner and the party trailed into the dining room. Lily, standing at the head of the table, indicated the seats. At the other end of the table Kit Christopher lifted her wine glass. "To all good sinners."

It was a pleasant beginning and Hannah had done well with the meal. The talk, touched off by the cocktail, held a light and urbane gayety and Lily, isolated a moment by her own thoughts, wondered at the strange contrasts of this Nevada land. In the afternoon Sebastian had been a figure from the Old West, herding his cattle through the incredible heat; and here he was, a civilized being, perfectly at ease in sophisticated surroundings. She turned to him.

"Why is it called Barrier ranch?"

"That dates back," said Sebastian agreeably. "In my father's day, 1871, it was about the only piece of civilization up in the north."

Judge Sillavan cut in dryly. "You wouldn't exaggerate if you said it was still about the only piece of civilization there."

"The wild and woolly West still lives," murmured Lily with a faint skepticism.

"Our tourists are very wise," was the judge's amused observation.

"Perhaps," retorted Lily, "we should be prepared to defend our doors tonight against the Indians?"

"No, the Indians are gone," said Sebastian.

"Other things remain?" she challenged him.

"Maybe," he said.

Timmy Akin broke in. "I heard this today. A man was shot dead at a waterhole last night, not far from here."

"The romantic West in best tradition," murmured Lily Tennant. "Timmy, you are incurable. The rustlers and stage robbers are practically all in Hollywood now, doing pictures."

But Akin's information did something to the Reno people. Judge Sillavan bent toward Tom Sebastian. He said "Did you know about that?"

"Yes, It was Pete Rice."

"At Crockford Wells, then?" said Sillavan, quietly.

"Yes."

Sillavan's talk was obscure to Lily. "That's hitting close to home."

Tom Sebastian said: "Didn't I tell you all cattlemen were dumb? They don't change—they die." But he shifted from that topic casually, turning to Lily. "You don't have much faith in the traditional West, do you?"

"I think you cling to sentimental memories. You are a modern man, but you wish to believe you are a part of the old times. I have seen the gambling tables and the long mahogany bars in Reno. They are picturesque. They're good theater for the tourists. But they're old-fashioned now."

"Let us grieve for the lost innocence of this irreverent generation," complained Sillavan.

"Not irreverent," corrected Lily with a faint smile. "But unsentimental."

"There you have it," applauded Kit Christopher from the end of the table.

"You are hard people, you youngsters," said Sillavan. "You don't believe in anything. Maybe my generation was a little too given to weeping in its beer when the professor played Home Sweet Home. But we believed in our tears. You people forbid yourselves the luxury of honest emotion because you're afraid of it. So you are all turning brittle and transparent."

"We are being spanked," intervened Kit Christopher.

"And don't tell me you're a realistic generation," went on the judge, amiably severe. "You're novices at that. My generation could step over dead men on the way from church to Sunday dinner and never turn a hair. We could put a school at one end of the town and a public crib at the other. That's realism, my infants."

Lily said with extreme quietness: "What should we believe? What is there to believe?" She looked at Tom Sebastian. Hannah, moving quietly around the room, touched the light button and the sudden crystal gush from the chandeliers set off in quick fire the copper glints of her chestnut hair. Her firm, full lips remained steady. Her chin tipped upward and her round and actually beautiful shoulders were caught in a still straightness.

Tom Sebastian spoke with some brusqueness. "That's an empty question. You don't mean it."

"I am puzzled by a great many things that seem unanswerable."

"Maybe there are no answers," said he. "Why bother? Live the day out and let it go like that."

Judge Sillavan said unexpectedly: "I love all you youngsters. Because you are young and full of hell. You can be reckless and take your spills and still laugh. That's important."

They were finished with coffee. Lily said, faintly restless: "Let's go somewhere."

Kit Christopher's hands expressed despair. "Lily, can't you ever stay put?"

But Tom Sebastian had risen promptly, his white grin once more breaking. The party adjourned to the living room and the women went for their wraps. Judge Sillavan's ruffled silver head bent down; he clipped a cigar with a gold pen knife attached to his watch chain. His quiet talk was for Tom Sebastian alone. "Pete Rice was a gentle soul. But he was one of your friends."

"They are hitting me through my friends," observed Tom taciturnly. "Men can't afford to be my friends any more."

"Certainly—certainly. Nevada politics. Been so since the very beginning." Sillavan looked up and his very old and very shrewd eyes glittered with some of that ruthlessness that had been his long ago. "It will get worse for you. Well, you are as rough and tough as any of your enemies and you have but one weakness, which is a set of scruples against deliberate murder. The other side doesn't have any such scruples. Do you know what it's all about?"

"Freeze-out."

Judge Sillavan's smile was very thin. "Come see me at the office tomorrow." He stopped talking and bowed to the approaching ladies with a gallantry that held the flavor of a distant past. There was something in the manner of this old-type Westerner that reminded Lily of opening an attic trunk and finding there the crinoline and linsey-woolsey of a dead age. The party trooped out toward the cars at the curb but Lily touched Sebastian's arm and they went walking on through the fragrant dusk of the quiet street. The people behind were cheerfully in argument. These two were silent, and remained so all the way into the brightness of Reno's center. Orchestra music flowed from a hotel and couples in evening dress casually and gayly passed them. Along the curbs men in boots and broad hats watched this parade without emotion. Many of them spoke to Tom.

Lily said: "You know a lot of people."

"In Nevada everybody knows everybody else. You want to remember—" He ceased speaking and Lily, following the turn of his head, saw a great mass of a man idly posted against a building wall. He had a chest so extraordinarily deep and broad that it made the rest of his body seem thin, and his features were queerly flattened against a brick-brown skin. His eyes, of a muddy opaque color, clung winklessly to Tom Sebastian. And then, in spite of the utterly desolate expression of his face, a smoldering dislike flashed plainly across it. Her glance whipped back to Sebastian and she noticed at once how friendless was his own expression. Afterwards, when they went on, that unforgiving tautness around Sebastian's lips remained in her mind. She spoke.

"Who was the grotesque giant?"

"A half-breed by the name of Star Humboldt."

"Not a charming personality."

He looked down at her, not quite smiling. "He's not in the tourists' guide, Lily."

The party swung into the Goldfield Club into the sudden confusion of sound and smoke. Down the long room stretched the successive gaming tables, well patronized; and through it moved that queer stream of people which gave Reno its particular color, cowhand and prospector and townsman rubbing shoulders indifferently with the sightseer in his crumpled clothes and the divorcee in evening dress. The party eddied slowly along, propelled by the players drifting from table to table. Five men in white duck served behind a long polished bar.

Kit Christopher wanted to try roulette and Timmy Akin obediently found a place for her. The Reno people were chatting with others who had come up. A man passing by touched Sebastian on the shoulder and said: "Want to see you later, Tom," and went on without waiting for an answer. Turning back to Lily Tennant, Sebastian found her regarding the roulette table with an amused indifference.

"Not interesting to you?"

"Not very."

Kit Christopher had tried her luck and found it bad; she came away from the table with an expressive shrug and the party went into the street again, Lily and Tom bringing up the rear. Tom Sebastian spoke with a strange bluntness.

"What interests you?"

Her face rose, showing a queer liveliness. "Anything. Anything that is real."

"You're not bored. You're troubled."

"How would you know that?"

"You're too much alive to be bored."

"Thank you, Tom." The party turned into an alley and entered a doorway overhung by a single light. But Sebastian put a slight pressure on Lily Tennant's arm and stopped; and his head turned back to the main street. Looking in that direction, Lily presently saw the great figure of Star Humboldt cruise across the mouth of the alley. Humboldt threw one glance down the alley, toward Sebastian, and then passed on.

"What is it?" asked Lily.

Sebastian only shook his head, his cheeks holding an oblique and secret humor. They followed the party into another of Reno's clubs, this one smaller and quieter than the Goldfield, with its crystal chandeliers throwing off a faint air of elegance. Kit Christopher was again trying her luck, but Lily Tennant stood fast in the center of the room and looked about with a cool curiosity; and then the curiosity died and left her aloof and indifferent. Tom Sebastian turned a little to catch the straight, level effect of her glance. He bent toward her, reserve going from his manner.

"How long are you going to be in Reno?"

"A day—a week. I don't know, and it doesn't matter."

He said: "You haven't seen—" He broke off the sentence and folded his two hands in front of him. His cheeks went keen and perceptibly reckless; he spoke quite brusquely. "You're a lovely woman, Lily."

Her eyes held him. Her voice was serene, speculative. "You are a man of extremes."

"You've seen Reno. But there's another side of Nevada you don't know—"

The party was retreating from the roulette table. Kit Christopher said: "I'm the world's worst gambler." A man came through the doorway with a swift swing of his shoulders and stopped quite suddenly beside Sebastian.

"Tom," he said, "how are you?"

Sebastian's answer fell short of friendliness. It was nothing more than acknowledgment. "Hello, Buffalo."

He was a smiling man, this newcomer. His eyes were lightest hazel and his yellow blond hair—he had at once removed his hat—curled carelessly down his forehead. He was as young as Sebastian, with quite bold features across a lightly florid skin. In the muscular roll of his shoulders and the glinting liveliness of his glance was a visible hint of animal magnetism. A pointed silence fell as he stood there, half faced toward Lily Tennant. Sebastian, coolly polite, said: "Miss Tennant, may I present Buffalo Galt?" and plunged his hands into his pockets. Then he added: "And Miss Christopher, and Timmy Akin."

Buffalo Galt's bow was deliberately gallant. "This," he said, "is a pleasure I deliberately sought."

Lily said, "Thank you." The man was so smilingly aggressive, so obviously traveling through life at a top stride. Kit Christopher murmured gently: "It is a nice philosophy, Mr. Galt—to go after what you want."

"It's done well for me," said Buffalo Galt. His grin exposed the whiteness of his teeth; his eyes raked Tom Sebastian and there was in them a lurking malice. "But Tom wouldn't agree to that. Tom sticks to traditions."

"As I've said before," drawled Sebastian, rather dry, "cattlemen are a dumb lot." He seemed to dismiss Buffalo Galt then from his mind. He looked at Lily. "You have never seen the Nevada lying beyond Reno."

Lily tipped her head upward, toward him. They were at that moment quite alone—all others excluded from their talk. The sense of a challenge lay between them, quite definite. Tom Sebastian's mouth cut a solid line across the darkness of his face. Lily Tennant spoke out of her deep calm.

"Is it something I should see?"

"Come to Barrier with me."

"When?" she asked.

"Tonight."

"What an abrupt sort you Nevadans are," observed Kit. But nobody answered and Kit's eyes, at once sharp, raced to Lily Tennant and remained there. Faint color touched Lily Tennant's cheeks; something disturbed her inner calm. Her shoulders rose and became straighten Studying Tom Sebastian, she said: "What shall I see on Barrier?"

"Does that matter?"

"All right;"

Sebastian looked up to the rest of the party. "That includes all of you, of course."

"Me?" interposed Buffalo Galt.

Sebastian stared at the man. "Would you feel comfortable on Barrier, Buffalo?"

"I'm always willing to take my chances," retorted Galt with a minute accent of arrogance.

Judge Sillavan's white head reared. The smoke of his cigar didn't quite conceal the harsh brightness of his glance. "You always are," he said, quietly. The silence returned then, and remained until Kit Christopher was prompted to speak by some obscure impulse.

"Come along, Buffalo. I think I should enjoy your company."

Buffalo Galt laughed, and looked at Sebastian with an ironic triumph. "You will find me at least entertaining, Miss Christopher. I never do the expected thing."

Sebastian's black head was inscrutably bowed toward the floor. Lily Tennant felt the thick quality of his reserve, noted the quick streak of pressure down his jaw muscles. The party slowly eddied into the street. Buffalo Galt turned with the obvious intention of stepping beside Lily, but she had already joined Sebastian. Kit Christopher, who missed nothing, laughed a little and touched Galt's arm. When he dropped back to pair off with her his burly shoulders brushed Timmy Akin aside very carelessly and Timmy was forced to the rear, among the Reno people.

SEBASTIAN'S car headlights glowed down a road as straight as a transit line. The speedometer needle oscillated gently at 65 miles, but the flat blankness of the surrounding land gave no indication of the rapid traveling. Sebastian's hands merely steadied the wheel. Here and there a lone pinpoint of light from some shanty accented a night so black as to possess a kind of velvet shine; the stars were like crushed and loosely strewn crystals. Lily Tennant beside him had said very httle during the first forty miles. Judge Sillavan and Timmy, sitting on the humps, only now and then spoke; but Buffalo Galt, riding the rear seat with Kit Christopher, kept up a steady good-humored talk.

Timmy Akin said, in a muffled voice: "Am I stepping on a rifle, by any chance? Something's under my feet."

Sebastian slowed the car for a sharp turn and Buffalo Galt's laugh was abnormally loud and ironic. Then the car, gathering speed, began to beat up a more violent sound from the rougher road they had taken. One tall water tower loomed and died and a cabin nearby thrust out its single splinter of lamp light. Sebastian dropped his hand to the horn, leaving a long halloo behind. The glow from the instrument board fell down on the blackened butt of a.45 protruding from the side pocket of the car.

"Lily, what troubles you so much?"

"It is quite obvious?"

"In you—yes."

She looked straight ahead, but her shoulder fell against him, so that he might hear. The rush of the car made whirlpools of sound inside the tonneau; speech came faintly from the people in the rear. She said: "When you come to a blind jump and you don't know what lies beyond, what do you do?"

"Jump it."

"As easy as that?"

"If you've got to make the jump why stop to think about it?"

"Suppose I can jump or stay behind?"

His shoulders swayed over the wheel; there was a howling echo beneath, a hollow roar bounding away from a plank bridge. Far, far ahead one faint light began to wink intermittently. "You're not the kind to refuse a jump."

"Are you so sure?"

"You're a high-powered girl, Lily."

"I'm not sure that's a compliment."

"It shouldn't matter. I'm being truthful."

"You waste no time."

"Not with you," he said, and stopped talking. His profile was a hard, keen silhouette. It was unsentimental, and touched by a distant bitterness. Without warning he added: "With some people it isn't a question of time. You and I are as good friends as we'll ever be, right now."

She straightened a little. "Why?"

"Friendship is a mild emotion. I'm not mild, and neither are you. We're the sort that pushes on to the logical end—which is either dislike or love."

She sat silent, thinking. The car passed into the shadows of a hill on the left hand. The road curved and the wink of the light far out on the desert died. Beyond the curve another light began to send its signal forward. The air turned chilly and a sense of tremendous emptiness began to press against Lily Tennant. Farther on the headlamps touched a coyote standing in the middle of the road, its tail down and its starveling body gone taut. It slid into the desert without hurry.

"It would be silly," she said, at last. "But it might be true."

"It is true—and for us it would be disastrous. What is this jump you've got to take and can't see beyond?"

"Fame—of a sort."

The distant light grew stronger; another light appeared beside it, and then a cluster of them. The stark, irregular shape of a series of corrals flittered by, and in a moment they had left this solitary habitation to the rear. Sebastian looked aside at her. "You're afraid of what you've got to give to get it."

She put her hands together and let out a quick breath. "Yes."

"Is it what you want—fame?"

"Perhaps."

"Then give what you've got to give."

She spoke with sudden energy. "That's a little bit brutal."

His answer touched gentleness. "Maybe. But you can't be Cinderella and Madame Pompadour at the same time. When we reach the ranch I want to show you what the down payment on fame amounts to."

The car drummed on under a more blackly brilliant sky, devouring the distance by its ceaseless rushing. The talk fell off for long periods of time. Away ahead another light made a thin point through the emptiness, toward which Sebastian pointed. Presently they had reached this ranch and had sped by. It seemed to Lily then that they were racing across a pure emptiness, guided only by these faint beacons, sighting them, straining for them, roaring past them. Once they skirted the margins of a small lake, their lights shining on its lonely silver surface; another time they seemed to rise and pass into a narrow canyon, beating up ancient echoes as they traveled.

Considerably later Sebastian spoke again. "How far do you think you've come from Reno?"

"Fifty miles."

"A hundred and ten to be exact. We're almost home. Thirty miles more."

"Almost?" she murmured. "You don't take your distance very seriously, Tom."

"We can't afford to. Barrier is about as far from Reno as New York is from Albany."

"It's such a lonely feeling land."

They slid into a denser darkness, running again along the foot of a low range of hills. They kept to it, mile after mile; over in the east was a flatness that had no flaw. Sebastian said, "That's desert you're looking at. We're paralleling the Moonstone range. Barrier's southern boundary begins here. Up yonder in the north is the Oregon line."

"Just a little ride to settle one's meal," called Kit Christopher. "I should be a lost soul if I lived here."

They left, at last, the covering shoulder of the Moonstone range, and lights met them again, not far ahead. The speed of the car fell off, the road slowly turned. Pulling herself from a dark tangle of thoughts, Lily Tennant found fence posts flickering by, pale against a solid night. There was a long low ranch house to the fore and the silhouette of lesser buildings surrounding it. Sebastian let the car coast as far as the porch of the main house and stopped by the steps. His arm went to the latch of the car door, and halted there; and Lily, mildly curious, saw his long frame turn still. A man moved away from the porch shadows and other men came quietly across the yard. Someone called distinctly: "Put out the lights, Tom."

Sebastian cut the switch. Obvious hurry got into him. He opened the side car door and stepped out and said to the others, "Into the house, please. Matt, where are you?" A slow, utterly cool voice answered him from another angle of the porch, and Sebastian moved away.

Lily got out and waited for the rest of the party. Silence and a cold excitement gripped them all; Timmy Akin cleared his throat nervously, and the clack of an electric plant somewhere made abnormal echoes. A tall shadow appeared before Lily and touched her arm. When he spoke she identified Sebastian. "Come into the house as fast as possible," and he guided her up the steps. He waited on the porch until they had collected around him, then he opened the door swiftly and reached inside to cut off the room lights.

Only for one moment had the porch been visible. But in that moment Lily's eyes, turned aside, had struck the shape of a man lying a few feet beyond them, face down. Blood glistened along a ragged rivulet on the boards.

Lily swept in startled breath into her lungs and allowed herself to be pushed into the room by the others so quietly and urgently behind her. Kit Christopher's voice sibflantly arrived. "What on earth is this about?"

The door slammed shut and the room lights came on again. Tom Sebastian stood with one hand on the switch gray and cold, a dim shadow of fury breaking through his cheeks. "There's been a little trouble here," he said, very soft with his words. "One of my men was killed by a party of riders out on the desert—"

A strong yell sailed across the yonder yard; and instantly afterward a burst of rifle fire broke the uneasy quiet. There was a small, spitting sound on the wall, and a star-pointed hole bloomed in a window directly behind Tom Sebastian. Men ran across the porch. Somewhere out on the desert—whence this firing seemed to come—a long shout rose and sailed forward. In one startled glance, Lily saw the party with a frozen camera clarity—standing closely together, all pale and strained.

Something happened then that she did not clearly understand. Buffalo Galt pushed Timmy Akin and Judge Sillavan roughly aside. His florid cheeks were quite flushed as he stepped to the wall; knocked Sebastian's hand from the light switch, and snapped the room into full darkness again. A moment later he had opened the door; and his chesty command went rolling across the yard, out to the party firing from the desert. It was violent enough to hurt Lily Tennant's ears and it carried a wicked authority.

"Ben—Duke! Stop that, you damned fools! Stop it!"

The miracle was that the firing stopped. The echo of the last shot died out with the sound of his voice, and afterwards the silence was almost painful. Cold air flowed through the doorway. The breathing of the party scraped irregularly across the black. Afterwards she heard hoofbeats tremble over the desert and grow less distinct.

"Turn on the lights," said Galt.

Somebody turned them on. Galt stood with his back boldly exposed in the doorway. He was grinning at Tom Sebastian with a malice too open to mistake; and presently his raking eyes went to Lily and she saw the over-mastering pride in them—the flame of conscious power.

CHAPTER 2

Table of Contents

THERE was confusion outside, the scuff of boots charging across the porch and the bitter rise of men's voices. A gun in the yard smashed its echoes at the night with a spaced and calculated wickedness and stopped after the fifth shot. But all that harsh anger had no effect on the room's stillness. The group had retreated from the door, leaving Buffalo Galt and Sebastian near it, confronting each other. It was strange, Lily thought, to see so much malign scorn on a man's face as was on Galt's; it was rather dreadful to watch Sebastian's cheeks freeze out all expression. His solid lips crushed together, his eyes turned from gray to black—or so it appeared to her then.

He intoned his careful words. "That makes things pretty clear, Buffalo."

Buffalo Galt flung back his reckless retort. "I never beat around the bush."

"You were pretty sure about those men out there."

"Who else would be trying to shoot up Barrier?"

"You had no trouble stopping them."

"They know better than to not mind me," said Buffalo Galt.

Lily saw Sebastian's glance eat its way through this blond, rough-and-tumble figure; she actually saw the wild temper coiling and threshing behind Sebastian's reserve. Yet his talk remained barren. "You're certain of yourself."

"I wanted you to see these men eat out of my hand. I'm a power in this part of the state, friend Tom. In the future, don't forget that."

The door was thrust open and a very tall young man hurried in. He was incredibly redheaded; his eyes, jade green against a brick-bronze skin, flashed wickedly. "What are we waiting for?" he challenged Sebastian.

"There's always another day, Matt," said Sebastian, soft as the wind.

"Like hell there's another day!" ground out the redhead. "Tip Hagan's lyin' dead on the porch! Come on!"

Sebastian spoke evenly. "Barrier is seventy years old. It can bide its time. It has before." And Lily saw how swiftly Sebastian's words disciplined the tempestuous redhead. Sebastian turned to the crowd, inflexibly courteous. "This is Matt Strang, Barrier's foreman."

Matt Strang scarcely acknowledged the introduction; his eyes clung to Buffalo Galt and were violent. Sebastian's iron calm again bore down on his man.

"Buffalo is not staying with us tonight. He wants to ride over to Tumpah. Saddle a horse for him."

Matt Strang said: "I won't guarantee his safe arrival in Tumpah."

"I will," countered Sebastian, at once cold.

The foreman wheeled discontentedly out of the doorway. Buffalo Galt showed a thin smile. "Thanks for the transportation, Tom."

Sebastian said: "Don't touch Barrier again at any point, at any time."

Buffalo Galt shrugged his husky shoulders. "I'll be back some day."

"Not in my time."

Galt's half-handsome face mocked the other man. "How long will your time run?" He turned toward Lily. "I hope to see you again." After that the ironic amusement returned to him and he walked through the doorway, without hurry, and vanished from their sight.

Sebastian closed the door, speaking to the group. "I'm sorry if you have been upset."

"Imagine that—in America in this year of grace," breathed Timmy Akin. Lily turned and found the shine of atavistic pleasure in this harmless little man's eyes. Shock still chilled her.

"Was this the Nevada you wanted me to see?"

"I regret the scene," apologized Sebastian.

Judge Sillavan's bright eyes swept the disturbed group.

He smiled with a perceptible skepticism. "What's the matter with this realistic generation? I expect more from you than fright."

It jolted them out of silence. Kit Christopher laughed uncertainly. They all moved toward the cheerful blaze of a fireplace and Lily for the first time observed the sprawling old- fashioned room with its handhewn furniture. A stairway went up to a balcony circling three walls, on which the doors of a dozen other rooms opened. It was like a Western inn, yet the touch of somebody's hand kept it from being impersonal. Above the fireplace was a framed map in which certain sections had been colored.

"That's Barrier," explained Sebastian.

"How big?"

He said, carefully: "Two hundred and fifty thousand owned acres, I suppose. With probably another hundred thousand acres of government graze." He seemed conscious of the general disbelief. "It has been seventy years in the making, you understand. That's not much land when you consider the size of this country." He watched Lily. "We were speaking of fame. Well, Barrier's famous in its own way. The cost of such fame has been about forty-five dead men since 1870. My own father, Henry Sebastian, is one of those. And my grandfather, Dan. And the man lying on the porch out there now."

"But, what on earth!" murmured Kit Christopher. "Why?"

"Because," answered Judge Sillavan, openly enjoying the scene, "this is a choice spot and men fight for land now as they did in the time of Moses."

Sebastian seemed increasingly aware of the disturbance to his guests. He chose his words carefully. "It's a matter of viewpoint. You're accustomed to living in a region where there's a street full of people in front of you and a police station in the next block. It's different here. The county Barrier's in is more than a hundred miles long and better than sixty wide. Our nearest town is Tumpah, twenty miles east, with seventy-five inhabitants. Outside of that you could ride this whole region for a month and never see more than an occasional shanty or a solitary horseman. Or maybe a few Indians straying across the Black Rock range from the reservation. This is desert country, and almost empty." He stopped and smiled. "I think you'd all appreciate a rest."

Somebody walked along the balcony and came down the stairs; and then Lily saw a girl reach the living room and advance with a straightness of carriage that suggested a weight balanced on her small, gloss-black head. Sebastian's voice lost all its hard resonance and became instantly gentle. "Charm, this is Lily Tennant, from Hollywood. Charm Michelet, Lily."

Charm Michelet inclined her head. "It is nice to have you on Barrier," she said. Lily smiled her answer, and from a corner of her vision caught the flash of interest in Kit Christopher's glance. Sebastian continued the introductions, leaving Lily to study the girl with a queerly aroused attention. She was not more than twenty-two, that was plain. But her serene self-possession was something to silently marvel at. Slim and quiet as she appeared before them, Lily got the reflection of a hidden vigor of emotion. She was a dark girl with a glowing, faintly olive skin—the survival of some distant Spanish blood, Lily guessed. She wore a dress as good as to be found in any Los Angeles shop; and at her belt hung a cluster of house keys which her fingers now and then brushed. Her eyes rose toward Sebastian and remained a moment on his face, reading his will. Afterwards she said to the women: "If you will come."

Lily and Kit followed her up the stairs and went along the balcony to a corner room. Charm Michelet snapped on the lights. There was a big bed and a few pieces of furniture, a bathroom, and a fireplace.

Charm said: "May I lend you nightgowns—or anything else you wish?"

"And a comb and some cold cream—if it isn't too much bother," suggested Lily, once more admiring the girl's graceful carriage. Charm went to the open door and called below with a quiet touch of command. "Gath—bring some wood for this fire." She turned and smiled back at the two women and walked along the balcony. Somewhere a child cried with a quick, startled irregularity.

Kit Christopher stood in the center of the room with her chin risen, with her expressive mouth turned amused and skeptical. "So," she murmured, "what have we here? Her name is Michelet and Sebastian is obviously very fond of her. And there's a baby—"

"Don't, Kit."

Kit said: "Aren't you the girl who insists on realism?"

"Realism, but not scandal. Do you realize she's quite striking?"

"The type that goes primitive. All for love. No reservations."

"As many of the rest of us might do."

"You? Don't be sentimental. You couldn't endure messy things."

"But you'd approve of whatever relations Jay Stuart and I might establish."

"That's something practical. This other thing—going the whole distance for great love—is merely romantic nonsense."

Lily listened remotely to Kit, drawing into herself. "I hadn't known that pure giving, without thought of return, was nonsense."

"You've got to see things much clearer than that, darling. This is a brutal world."

"So Tom Sebastian's mentioned tonight."

Kit Christopher spoke with a degree of sharpness. "Don't, by any chance, let yourself go on that man."

"Now who is being silly?"

"You could, you know," insisted Kit. "Very easily. He happens to be the sort over which women usually do make fools of themselves. He's a rough, hard, and dominating man. You'd ride down his road or you couldn't ride at all. He'd make you thoroughly miserable—and for a while you'd think it was love. Until the novelty wore off. Don't I know? That's the way it was with Bob Nesbitt. He had all the old-fashioned ideas about women and home and children."

"So now you prefer the deferential ones like Akin?"

Kit shrugged her beautiful shoulders. Her certainty abandoned her and left her less firm, less pleased. "It's weird. We want more power in our men than Timmy possesses. But if we get a man with power, we're nothing but mere wives and that isn't to be endured. It's so mixed up. I guess if we wish to be in the picture business, and be independent, we've got to take the weaker sort of men and be unhappy about it."

"I don't like that bitter, unmoral mood of yours at all, Kit."

Kit was dimly smiling. "You can go very far in pictures if you don't make the mistake of letting a man interfere."

An elderly fellow in boots and overalls walked in with an armload of wood. He went to the fireplace, not looking at the women, and arranged his load on the hearth; he lighted a match, kneeling piously while the flame took hold. Kit said:

"I seem to hear a baby. Whose is it?"

The man drawled: "Charm's."

"Really? How old?"

"About three, I guess," said he, and rose. He stared at the doorway. "Ain't that right, Charm?" he asked, and then went on. Charm Michelet came softly in. She laid the extra nightclothes on the bed and walked to the dresser with the few toilet articles Lily had asked for. There was embarrassment here for Lily, but Kit Christopher's talk was smoothly natural.

"A boy?"

"A boy," answered Charm Michelet, returning to the door. She swung there, facing the other women with an unbreakable dignity that struck Lily Tennant hard; it was something so much deeper than acquired manners, so much more real. "Is that all?" Charm asked, and Lily understood then that this girl was out-facing Kit; that she was at the moment superior to the worldly Kit. Kit only said, "You're very kind," and afterwards Charm enigmatically closed the door behind her.

"I think," said Lily, quite frank, "you got the worst of that."

But Kit walked around the room with an aroused interest. "There's something very odd about all this. I shall have to ask Timmy in the morning."

Lily got ready for bed. Steps shuffled along the balcony; Judge Sillavan's slow, sleepy talk struck through a partition. A moment's silence came and was presently broken by the sound of a great many men moving around the room below. Kit Christopher stopped roving. "Does it strike you Tom Sebastian was trying to conceal something from us tonight?"

"The dead man lay at our very feet," remembered Lily, and felt cold.

Kit crossed to the door and drew it slightly open, looking through. She whispered: "Come here if you want to see something."

Lily went over and put her head beside Kit's to catch the scene below. Sebastian stood with his back to the fireplace, arms clasped behind him. The redheaded Matt Strang was at his side. In front of these two the Barrier hands were silently ranked. There were thirty or more of them, with the firelight reaching out to brush saturnine color across their faces. One thing struck Lily powerfully: Barrier was more than a ranch—it was a military establishment, with the feeling of iron discipline quite clear to her. She drew back and gently pushed the door shut.

"I think we may be eavesdropping."

Kit looked at her, lips half-parted. "Actually, it's feudal. Reno's a hundred and forty miles away—and we've dropped back about four centuries. Imagine!"

Sebastian pulled his arms back of him and stared at the tough faces of his men. The heat of the recent fight still simmered sullenly in their eyes; the rage that comes from spilled blood was there.

"How did it happen?" he asked.

Matt Strang moved away until he could turn and face Sebastian. "Rex Meeder was riding north of the Moonstones. DePard and his bunch ran into him and chased him home. They stayed out there. Tip Hagan just happened to come from the house. They caught him as he stood in the doorway—a clean shot through his ticker. We threw a little lead back at 'em. Then you came up." Matt's raw-red cheeks were bitterly furious. He was a canny, cool man but he was also a natural fighter and this delay rubbed him the wrong way. "It ain't like you, Tom, to pull your punches. Tip Hagan's dead and, by God, he deserves more than pious regret!"

Strang's temper was the temper of the crew. He could see his foreman's fiery talk sway these hard, unforgiving men. He had picked each one of them for strength and toughness, because he knew he would one day need them. He said quietly: "So, then?"

"They've gone back to Tumpah. That's where we should go."

"No," decided Tom Sebastian. "We won't follow."

Matt Strang drew a heavy breath. "It's your ranch. But Tip Hagan was a friend of all of us. Regardless of what you say, we may do something about this killing. As friends of Tip."

Sebastian went leaner and taller. His talk struck out with a physical effect. "No more talk like that. Barrier's got plenty of enemies waiting for us to make a bad break. The DePards didn't do this on their own hook. They were told to do it by somebody who wants us to go wild and hit back. But we'll hit back in our own time and fashion—and I'll tell you when that is to be. Get that clear in your minds. Do as I say or quit the ranch."

Matt Strang shifted his weight irritably. "That's puttin' it strong, Tom."

Sebastian stared severely at ham. "When I made you foreman, I put the power of Barrier in your hands. If I can't trust you with it, tell me now."

"It's hell to think of Tip Hagan killed!" groaned Matt.

"It would be hell to think of more boys killed on a fool raid to get even. Are you with me, Matt?"

Strang said moodily: "Of course—but it's Buffalo Galt who's behind this."

"You sure?"

Matt looked swiftly at Sebastian. "Anybody else?"

"Maybe. That's all. I want guards put out tonight."

The crew filed through the doorway. Sebastian turned and climbed the stairs, going into his own room at the head of the landing. As he did so, Charm Michelet appeared from a lesser hall leading off the balcony and followed him, closing the door behind her. On the lower floor, Matt Strang had lifted a lighted match to his pipe but he saw that incident and he flung the match from him and made a violent turn. He stopped in front of a chair and sat down, bending forward to clasp his long palms tightly together; and he stared up to Sebastian's room, strain stiffening all his features.

Charm Michelet crossed to where Tom stood looking through the window at the shadowed desert. She touched his arm and drew him around, and for a long interval her dark eyes studied him. Her breathing quickened. When she spoke it was with gentleness. "Is it very bad, Tom?"

"I think it is going to be, Charm."

"Something I don't know about?"

"Something none of us know about."

Her voice lifted with partisan loyalty. "There aren't enough crooks in northern Nevada to drive Barrier men off Barrier."

"Charm," he said, almost sadly, "there are other methods of running a ranch nowadays than by using gunmen. Big business has a way—and politics has another way."

She said: "You knew it was the DePards. But you refused to chase them. Did you refuse because you were thinking of Tommy and me?"

"Perhaps."

"Do what you've got to do—and don't think about me!"

He said: "Did the shooting wake him?"

"No." She stayed there, one hand touching his arm through the long silence, until her eyes drew a smile from him. He said: "We have guests, Charm. The women might be a little shocked to know you were in here."

She retreated to the door and turned and looked back to him with an obscure expression. "Lily Tennant is a beautiful woman."

"Is she?" murmured Tom—and never observed the swift emotion flash out of Charm's eyes. She slipped quietly from the room.

Matt Strang, seeing her return along the balcony to her own room, at once straightened from his crouched, cramped position in the chair. He let his arms fall; and the tenseness left his face. He fumbled around for his pipe, fingers unsteady, and rose and strolled to the yard.

There had been one other interested observer. Kit Christopher, sitting in front of the bedroom fireplace, heard Charm's heels tapping down the balcony. She promptly got up and opened her door a mere fraction, thus observing Charm go into Sebastian's room. Later she saw Charm come out. Closing the door, Kit stared significantly at Lily. "She went into his room. There's a wifely air about that young lady."

"Don't be so full of malice."

"I'm interested in the contemporary morals of Nevada's strong, silent men. There's a funny feeling about this house. I must ask Timmy in the morning."

Lily only half heard. The desert's spiced, cold air crept through the window opening; and something of the desert's hooded mystery crept in as well. Out of utter silence floated the wail of a coyote, mournful and wild beyond her power to describe. It was a faint note in vast, timeless space. It was something primitive, something that had neither beginning nor ending—like the shine of the stars in the infinite sweep of this black Nevada sky. The thought of it was unreal and disturbing. "Something unchangeable in a world full of change," she murmured.

"Novelty," said Kit, really sharp. "I shall get you away from here in the morning."

"A lonely land," said Lily softly, "where anything might happen."

STANDING beside the open grave wherein the fresh pine box enclosing Tip Hagan lay, Lily thought of how blunt and final the events of this land were, of how simply these people accepted the accidents of the day. Tip Hagan was dead and they were giving him a moment's respect before they buried him; and then they would pass on to other things. In a way, she reflected, it was beautiful—because it was real and natural, because there was here none of that artificial delicacy or exaggerated grief of her own Hollywood world.

Poplars surrounded the four sides of this cemetery which held, she had noticed, the three generations of Barrier. Tom, at the head of the grave, was reading the twenty-third psalm: "The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want." And as his voice rose and fell, she studied the men of the crew opposite her as they stood ranked against the penetratingly clear light of early morning. Some were quite gray, and some young. She felt the solidity of all. They were not individuals. They were part of Barrier. And they were not, she decided, soft men.

Sebastian ceased speaking. The silence hung on a short moment, then two hands stepped forward and began shoveling the mounded earth down against the pine box. The small crowd turned down the gentle incline toward the ranch quarters now freshly bathed in sun. Corrals and barns covered the foreground. Past these a series of shops and sheds and bunkhouses formed a plaza; beyond the plaza sat the main house, looking out upon a southern desert all bronze and yellow. In the distance a lone occasional water tank broke the monotony, and that was all. It was, Lily thought, immense and empty beyond description.

Kit gravely walked beside her. Seldom did this smiling, aloof woman ever permit the world to disturb her, but she was plainly disturbed now. Looking behind, Lily saw Tom Sebastian still standing at the grave, his bare head lowered. Charm Michelet walked in front, every motion of her lithe strong body a flow with a natural grace that reminded Lily of a spirit as free as the winds. It was something intangible, like the perfume of wild rose.

Crossing the plaza, Lily noted how deliberately the buildings of the place enclosed and barricaded it—a memory of the turbulent days of 1870 when Barrier had been, in Sebastian's words, "the only piece of civilization on the northern range." Going on through the house to the living room, Lily remembered Kit Christopher's descriptive word. Feudal. How queer a thing in these modern days.

Kit Christopher smoked a cigarette with a strange nervousness. Sebastian came in.

"I don't want to be inhospitable," he said. "But I know you want to get home—and we had better drive it before the sun gets any higher."

He turned to the porch. Kit rose and followed. Sebastian stopped on the steps, by the auto, his eyes roving the eastern distance. Fresh sunshine poured out of a cloudless sky.

Kit said: "Well, you showed us something different, which was your wish."

He didn't look at her. "I regret it."

She moved over to a porch post and put her slim back against it; and made an immaculate, self-sure picture. "You regard us as soft weak people from whom the bitter truth should be concealed. It isn't a very high opinion."

"You came to Nevada for a little pleasure. Not to get your clothes dirty."

She said: "Yes. That's why Lily will be going back to Hollywood tomorrow."

"Is she?"

Kit Christopher narrowly studied his face. "Reno romance is like shipboard romance. Only illusion. Lily's going to the top in pictures. She mustn't nurse any silly dreams."

He went down the steps, betraying no feeling. Sillavan and Timmy and Lily came out of the house. For a moment Kit stood beside the front door of the car, but Lily came up and got in beside Sebastian. Kit shook her head faintly and turned into the rear seat with the other men. Sebastian drove away.

Dust rose in heavy clouds behind and the ranch posts began to flicker like fast film.

"Tip Hagan," Lily thought aloud, "really died for the ranch. Did he have to?"

"Men like Tip stay on Barrier as long as they live."

"Loyalty," she said in a gentle voice. "Something that doesn't change, and can't be destroyed."

He didn't take his eyes from the road. "Yes."

"Loyalty to Barrier. Well, you are Barrier. So—loyalty to you."

He didn't answer. Looking aside then she wondered if it were that sense of responsibility which laid so strict a reserve across his eyes, which made his lips so solid. He wasn't a laughing man.

The land flowed past, yellow and hot, mile blending into mile. The smell of scorched earth was quite pronounced.

"If you want something bad enough," he spoke suddenly, "you'll pay whatever you've got to pay to get it. It isn't a matter of reason. It's something in your body that drives you on and never will let you alone."

"Supposing I go ahead, and find out too late I paid too much?"

"You will."

"How do you know?"

His glance remained on the thin ribbon of road; his heavy- knuckled hands ripped the wheel willfully. "Barrier is a great ranch. My people made it famous throughout Nevada—and now it is mine. Whatever it means, I mean. When I act it is for all the people on Barrier, who trust me." He paused. "It leaves a man pretty lonely. That's the power of fame. Someday you'll regret the way it has affected your own life. But nevertheless it will drive you on."

Her answer was for Sebastian alone; but the words sang with sudden rebellion. "I don't want such a thing to happen to me!"

They came by a lake whose water had receded a quarter mile or so from a cracked and bitter white alkali bed glaring under the sun. Beyond the lake they passed over a low-lying mass of iron- gaunt hills. Two hours from Barrier they came upon a ranch surrounded by a few poplar trees and stopped by a tub of water by the roadside. Another car stood beside the tub, its ancient hood steaming; an elderly man bent and dipped water with a large pail. The sound of Sebastian's machine pulled him around.

Sebastian got out. He said: "I thought you'd weaned that flivver, Lot."

"Just so, Tom, just so. I'm merely foolin' around. You're the second car I've seen today. This country's gettin' crowded."

Sebastian grinned. He turned to the car. "You should know Sheriff Lot McGinnis. These are some folks from Hollywood, Lot."

McGinnis removed his hat and made a grave bow. The desert had weathered him to a uniform bronze shade, against which the silver whiteness of his hair and long mustache made an extreme contrast. He was a tall, spare man with a broad jaw and a pair of deep blue eyes that seemed to contain remote humor. He said, "I'm pleased," very courteously and let his glance touch each person in the car. "Matter of fact, I was over in the desert and saw your dust coming. So I thought I'd head this way. I want to see you sometime, Tom."

"Be back from Reno tonight."

"That's all right. Take the bucket. I ain't goin' anywhere."

Sebastian filled his radiator and settled behind the steering wheel. "I've got some news for you, Lot."

The sheriff said mildly: "I expect you have. I've heard it. Now I think I'll point this leapin' Lena of mine in the general direction of Winnemucca and see what happens, if anything."

"Why that direction?"

"She don't seem to want to go in the other directions," stated the sheriff. "But it's all right. I'm not particular. Happy to have seen you folks. Leave a little dust on the road for the next man, Tom."

Sebastian shot the car out of the poplar shade, into the insistent flash of the sun. Kit Christopher was talking: "Is he as guileless as he looks?"

"A good many men have wondered," said Tom. "The answer is no."

An hour and ten minutes later the endless road had its ending at last, curling past a water tank and shanty into a broader highway that swooped over a dry, sun-scorched hill. At the top of the hill they saw Reno, one fluff of smoke standing over it. Sebastian, still thinking of what had been said far back on the road, spoke almost harshly: "What is it you really want?"

She delayed her answer a long while. Her voice fell. "To love—be loved."

They flashed across the flat lands and into the town. Sebastian stopped and when Lily looked out at her rented bungalow sitting between its pleasant locusts, a feeling of uncertainty shot through her. Kit Christopher and Timmy got out. Sebastian turned to Lily.

"You can't have both. When you fall in love you surrender a great deal. You give as well as take. If you're going on to fame you can't give anything. Fame is all taking."

She said, in wonder: "How would you know that?"

"I have had plenty of time to think," he said, very quietly.

Kit Christopher came up, her discerning eyes on them. "So," she said, "this is the end of another buggy ride."

Lily left the car, but stood with one arm touching its door. "Shall I see you again?"

"I'll be going back to Barrier in an hour."

She said: "I'm sorry."

He drew a long breath. "So am I."

There was a silence then. Kit Christopher, more watchful than ever, touched Lily's arm. "Let's get out of this sun."

Lily said, "Good-bye," and walked to the bungalow porch. But she didn't go in until she saw Sebastian's car, carrying Sillavan, turn a corner and vanish.

"There's been a long distance call from Mr. Stuart," said Hannah. "He wants you to ring him back at Hollywood." Then she added, "There's letters."

Lily went in with a brusque swing of her shoulders, Kit and Timmy Akin following. Kit said, with a touch of urgency, "Call Jay. He may have something important to tell you." Then she stopped, for Lily turned and looked at her directly. All the ease was gone from this fair, slender, womanly girl; all the laughter was out of her. She didn't speak, but Kit said, "I'm sorry, Lily."

Lily opened the first telegram:

I MUST INSIST YOU TAKE THE NEXT PLANE BACK REX GILMAN

She threw it aside and took up the other:

WHAT HAVE YOU FOUND OVER THERE IN SUCH A WILD PLACE THAT LOOKS BETTER THAN GOOD OLD HOLLYWOOD I HAVE GOT SUPERB PICTURES BREATHING DOWN MY NECK SAM

Restlessness possessed her. She dropped the telegram and faced the two people looking on. "Probably I'll go back. But I won't be pushed, Kit."

"Starlight and romance—in Nevada," murmured Kit. "You've got to grow up, Lily."

"Perhaps. But I'll have to find that out for myself."

Kit said: "I told you there was something queer about that ranch. Timmy discovered it. Charm Michelet isn't married. She grew up on the ranch as an orphan. The child is hers, but only Sebastian knows who the father is. Does it throw any light on the morals of a Nevada ranch? Did you observe how gentle he was with her?"

More aroused than she had been before, Lily said: "I don't believe it!"

"It's hard to put away your dreams," was Kit's soft answer. Timmy Akin, very sensitive to things unspoken, turned and left the room.

Tom Sebastian dropped Sillavan at a downtown street-corner. "I'll be back at your office in fifteen minutes," he said, and drove on. He parked before a bank, went in and sat down by a flat desk, beside George Grannatt. Grannatt was around forty and he looked very tired; his eyes warmed a little when he saw Tom.

"There ought to be a credit exchange through from 'Frisco tomorrow," said Tom. "For the cattle I shipped yesterday."

"How much?"

"Around eleven thousand, I suppose, if the market hasn't changed much." Tom took a check from his pocket and laid it on the desk. "I need five thousand."

Grannatt beckoned a cashier over, handing him the check. "You're carrying a lot of men out there."

"I need a good many men."

"Better cut wages."

"They've been cut."

Grannatt minutely scowled. "You could do with less men, but you're proud about it. Your dad ran that big a crew and you can't see the way clear to do otherwise."

"Those fellows have been on Barrier a long time. Where would they go if I turned them loose?"

"Sentiment. All Sebastians have been full of it. Your grandfather and your dad both died because a sentiment for Barrier trapped them. You've got to handle Barrier on a straight business basis or you'll sink."

"George," said Sebastian, "you know better. If running Barrier was a business I wouldn't need all those men. What I've got over there is an army of defense. You know why."

"Perhaps," admitted Grannatt uncomfortably. Then he added with an increase of vigor: "Don't get pulled into any trouble." The cashier came back and laid a half dozen packets of bills and a sack of silver in front of Sebastian. Grannatt said, very casual: "Is that all the money you need?"

"I think so. How's things in the bank?"

"No better than they should be."

"That bad?"

"Tough times for all of us, I guess. I'm not crying any more than the rest."

"You'll pull through." Sebastian tucked the bills into various pockets and stood up with the sack of silver under his arm. Grannatt, not looking up, said: "You sure you got enough spare change to carry you over until next time?"

"Yes," said Sebastian. His eyes watched Grannatt carefully a moment. Then he repeated: "Yes. See you later."

Grannatt walked as far as the gate with Sebastian. He was openly concerned. "Don't get drawn into trouble. That's the second time I've said it. So I must be saying it for a reason."

"I know."

Sebastian left his car where it was and crossed the street to Sillavan's office, which was up a flight of stairs. There wasn't any anteroom. If people wanted to see Sillavan while he was busy with others they stood in the hall and waited. The walls of his quarters were solidly lined with books; and Sebastian found him in an accustomed attitude, half lying in his chair, feet on the desk, cigar smoke turning the atmosphere blue. Sebastian put his silver sack on the table and sat down. The phone rang and Sillavan bent perilously in his chair to get it. He listened a moment, then said, "I'll be over in a little while," and hung up. Afterwards he resumed his sprawled position.

"What do you think you're up against now, Tom?"

Sebastian curled and licked a cigarette. "A big ranch always has enemies. Barrier's a big ranch."

"My boy," said Sillavan, "I'm sorry to tell you it isn't simply that."

Sebastian got out of the chair and braced his solid back against the bookcases. "Go ahead, I want to hear this."

"I'm pretty old," said Sillavan. "I rode with your grandfather. I knew your dad. So when I hear of some quarrel popping above the surface now I can go clear back and remember where that quarrel started. Things like that don't die in this state. They're passed from one generation to the next."

"Go ahead."

"Your grandfather Dan was a laughing man," mused Sillavan, "who never gave an inch of ground. But your dad was different. I never saw him smile. Henry was one of the great men of my time, Tom, and you can be proud of that. He had a feeling about Barrier—like religion. He never sold an acre of land in his life. He wasn't happy unless Barrier's boundaries were spreading out. He didn't give a damn about the money. It was the idea of a great ranch."

"He got it," observed Tom.

"He did. But when you're powerful you make enemies of other powerful men. Your father was an influence in this state. He was honest, but he could kill either physically or politically when his back was against the wall. Some of the greatest fights in the West centered around your father. Your dad is dead. Some of his enemies are not. That's what you inherit."

"That's why I keep a strong crew."

"Shooting? Sure, that's coming. But it isn't the whole thing. Range wars are fought other ways. Politics—and money."

"You're not mentioning any names."

Sillavan's deep-lined face momentarily vanished behind cigar smoke. "No," said Sillavan. "I wept over Henry's grave when he died. And if I were younger I'd kill the man that shot him. I know that man. He's still alive. But I can't speak secrets. They concern too many people and they're better buried with me. All I wanted to tell you was that there's a fight coming up against Barrier that will be worse than you think, because the roots of the quarrel go farther back than you know, and the sources are higher up than you imagine. I'll try to help in my own way. Only, I'm getting old."

Sebastian said: "All this sniping by the DePards doesn't fool me. I'll wait. When I know where to hit, I will."

"Be careful," adjured Sillavan. "The whole campaign of your enemies is to put you in a bad light, to get you to commit an error. Then they've got you."

"I can wait. A lot of crooks have broken their hearts on Barrier."

"You've got your father's patience."

"That ranch is my life."

"Whether you've got your dad's power to destroy remains to be seen," added Sillavan. The phone rang and he lifted the receiver and listened. Then he said, with a fine, soft courtesy, "Yes, of course," he added, and hung up. "Lily Tennant wishes you to call before leaving town," he said.

Tom only nodded. He got his sack of silver and passed from the judge's rooms. Leaning back in the chair Sillavan continued to smoke for a matter of minutes, then abruptly he got up, clapped on his hat and went over to the bank. Just before going in a very tall, fat man in a wrinkled cream-white suit passed. He murmured, "How are you, Judge," without breaking his stride. Sillavan said, "How, Ed," and his cigar tipped upward between his teeth. He crossed the lobby to Grannatt's corner.

Grannatt said: "I've got to run to 'Frisco this afternoon to see the Fleishmann brothers. They may take over some of our frozen paper. I want you to go along."

"Me?"

Grannatt said wearily: "I haven't got a single decent business argument why they should buy this junk. You know them. I want you to put it on a sentimental plane. They made their money in Nevada silver. It's their home state, and if this bank busts it's going to hurt a lot of their old friends. By the way, did you say anything to Sebastian?"

"This bank is my client. How can I mention its affairs? But I wish to God he could be warned."

"I dropped a hint," said Grannatt, "which he refused to take." Then the rawness of his nerves showed. "I guess he'll have to suffer with the rest of us."

LILY TENNANT waited for Sebastian on the bungalow porch. She wasted no words. "Would you mind if I imposed on you? I want to go back to Barrier. For a day—or for a week. With Timmy and Kit, of course."

He said: "Why?"

"Just consider I'm running away from something I don't want to face yet."

"I'll guarantee you isolation—but not quiet."

She said: "Will I be a bother?"

"I told you last night you and I were as good friends as we'd ever be. There is some risk involved, Lily. But I'd like to have you."

"Risk?" she queried.

He only looked at her; and then she understood. "I'll take my chances on the moonlight, Tom."

"Come along."

She returned to the house while he went out to the car. In a moment she reappeared with a small fitted case, Kit and Timmy following. Kit got in the back of the car with Timmy. Lily took her place beside Sebastian. Sebastian put the car down the street.

"Moonlight," he said quietly, "is for adolescents. It may be something more real than that, Lily. And you and I are flesh and blood people."

"I told you I was a realist, didn't I? Why do you suppose I'm going back?"

"Why?"

She drew a long breath. "Never mind—now. But I can take whatever comes to me without crying. I don't ask favors."

They were in the center of town. Kit said: "I'd like to do a little errand here, if you don't mind."

Sebastian drew over to the curb. Kit got out, going into the telegraph office near by. Her wire was to Jay Stuart. It said:

LILY HAS GONE NATIVE ONLY YOU CAN STOP THAT SO COME IMMEDIATELY KIT

She returned to the machine. Sebastian drove on, reached the open country and raced across it, underneath the burning sun.