Desert Gold

  Belding stood listening.  The genuine emotion in Chase's voice was as strong as the ring of truth.  Belding knew truth when he heard it.  The revelation did not surprise him.  Belding did not soften, for he devined that Chase's emotion was due to the probing of an old wound, the recalling of a past both happy and painful.  Still, human nature was so strange that perhaps kindness and sympathy might yet have a place in this Chase's heart.  Belding did not believe so, but he was willing to give Chase the benefit of the doubt.

  "So you told my wife you'd respect her secret–keep her dishonor from husband and daughter?" demanded Belding, his dark gaze sweeping back from the lane.

  "What!  I–I" stammered Chase.

  "You made your son swear to be a man and die before he'd hint the thing to Nell?" went on Belding, and his voice rang louder.  Ben Chase had no answer.  The red left his face.  His son slunk back against the fence.

  "I say you never held this secret over the heads of my wife and her daughter?" thundered Belding.

  He had his answer in the gray faces, in the lips that fear made mute.  Like a flash Belding saw the whole truth of Mrs. Belding's agony, the reason for her departure; he saw what had been driving Nell; and it seemed that all the dogs of hell were loosed within his heart.  He struck out blindly, instinctively in his pain, and the blow sent Ben Chase staggering into the fence corner.  Then he stretched forth a long arm and whirled Radford Chase back beside his father.

  "I see it all now," went on Belding, hoarsely.  "You found the woman's weakness–her love for the girl.  You found the girl's weakness–her pride and fear of shame.  So you drove the one and hounded the other.  God, what a base thing to do!  To tell the girl was bad enough, but to threaten her with betrayal; there's no name for that!"

  Belding's voice thickened, and he paused, breathing heavily.  He stepped back a few paces; and this, an ominous action for an armed man of his kind, instead of adding to the fear of the Chases, seemed to relieve them.  If there had been any pity in Belding's heart he would have felt it then.

  "And now, gentlemen," continued Belding, speaking low and with difficulty, "seeing I've turned down your proposition, I suppose you think you've no more call to keep your mouths shut?"

  The elder Chase appeared fascinated by something he either saw or felt in Belding, and his gray face grew grayer.  He put up a shaking hand.  Then Radford Chase, livid and snarling, burst out: "I'll talk till I'm black in the face.  You can't stop me!"

  "You'll go black in the face, but it won't be from talking," hissed Belding.

  His big arm swept down, and when he threw it up the gun glittered in his hand.  Simultaneously with the latter action pealed out a shrill, penetrating whistle.

  The whistle of a horse!  It froze Belding's arm aloft. For an instant he could not move even his eyes.  The familiarity of that whistle was terrible in its power to rob him of strength. Then he heard the rapid, heavy pound of hoofs, and again the piercing whistle.

  "Blanco Diablo!" he cried, huskily.

  He turned to see a huge white horse come thundering into the yard. A wild, gaunt, terrible horse; indeed, the loved Blanco Diablo. A bronzed, long-haired Indian bestrode him.  More white horses galloped into the yard, pounded to a halt, whistling home.  Belding saw a slim shadow of a girl who seemed all great black eyes.

  Under the trees flashed Blanco Sol, as dazzling white, as beautiful as if he had never been lost in the desert.  He slid to a halt, then plunged and stamped.  His rider leaped, throwing the bridle.  Belding saw a powerful, spare, ragged man, with dark, gaunt face and eyes of flame.

  Then Nell came running from the house, her golden hair flying, her hands outstretched, her face wonderful.

  "Dick!  Dick!  Oh-h-h, Dick!" she cried.  Her voice seemed to quiver in Belding's heart.

  Belding's eyes began to blur.  He was not sure he saw clearly. Whose face was this now close before him–a long thin, shrunken face, haggard, tragic in its semblance of torture, almost of death?  But the eyes were keen and kind.  Belding thought wildly that they proved he was not dreaming.

  "I shore am glad to see you all," said a well-remembered voice in a slow, cool drawl.Chapter XVIII - Reality Against Dreams

  Ladd, Lash, Thorne, Mercedes, they were all held tight in Belding's arms.  Then he ran to Blanco Diablo.  For once the great horse was gentle, quiet, glad.  He remembered this kindest of masters and reached for him with warm, wet muzzle.

  Dick Gale was standing bowed over Nell's slight form, almost hidden in his arms.  Belding hugged them both.  He was like a boy. He saw Ben Chase and his son slip away under the trees, but the circumstances meant nothing to him then.

  "Dick!  Dick!" he roared.  "Is it you?...Say, who do you think's here–here, in Forlorn River?"