Free Dorn Of The Mountains by Zane Grey

“I seen him ‘way back. He was ridin’ some. An’ he slowed up goin’ past us. Now he’s runnin’ again.”
    Dorn shook his head as if he did not like the circumstance.
    “Milt, he’ll never get by Roy on this road,” said Joe.
    “Maybe he’ll get by before Roy strikes in on the road.”
    “It ain’t likely.”
    Helen could not restrain her fears. “Mister Dorn, you think he was a messenger…going ahead to pass that…that Anson gang?”
    “He might be,” replied Dorn simply.
    Then the young man called Joe leaned out from the seat above and called: “Miss Helen, don’t you worry, thet fellar is more liable to stop lead than anythin’ else!”
    His words, meant to be kind and reasoning, were about as sinister to Helen as the menace to her own life. Long had she known how cheap life was held in the West, but she had only known it abstractly, and she had never let the fact remain before her consciousness. This cheerful young man spoke calmly of spilling blood on her behalf. The thought it roused was tragic…for bloodshed was insupportable to her…and then the thrills that followed now so new, strange, bold, and tingling that they were revolting. Helen grew conscious of unplumbed depths, of instincts at which she was amazed and ashamed.
    “Joe, hand down that basket of grub…the small one with the canteen,” said Dorn, reaching out a long arm. Presently he placed a cloth-covered basket inside the stage. “Girls, eat all you want an’ then some.”
    “We have a basket half full yet,” replied Helen.
    “You’ll need it all before we get to Pine…. Now I’ll ride up on top with the boys an’ eat my supper. It’ll be dark presently, an’ we’ll stop often to listen. But don’t be scared.”
    With that he took his rifle and, closing the door, clambered up to the driver’s seat. Then the stage lurched again and began to roll along.
    Not the least thing to wonder at of this eventful evening was the way Bo reached for the basket of food. Helen simply stared at her.
    “Bo, you can’t eat!” she exclaimed.
    “I should smile I can,” replied that practical young lady. “And you’re going to if I have to stuff things in your mouth. Where’s your wits, Nell? He said we must eat. That means our strength is going to have some pretty severe trials…. Gee, it’s all great…just like a story! The unexpected…why, he looks like a prince turned hunter…long dark stage journey…held up…fight…escape…wild ride on horses…woods and camps and wild places…pursued…hidden in the forest…more hard rides…then safe at the ranch. And of course he falls madly in love with me…no you, for I’d be true to my Las Vegas lover….”
    “Hush, silly! Bo, tell me, aren’t you scared? ”
    “Scared! I’m scared stiff. But if Western girls stand such things, we can. No Western girl is going to beat me! ”
    That brought Helen to a realization of the brave place she had given herself in dreams, and she was at once ashamed of herself, and wildly proud of this little sister.
    “Bo, thank heaven I brought you with me!” exclaimed Helen fervently. “I’ll eat if it chokes me.”
    Whereupon she found herself actually hungry, and, while she ate, she glanced out of the stage, first from one side, and then from the other. These windows had no glass and they let the cool night air blow in. The sun had long since sunk. Out to the west, where a long bold black horizon line swept away suddenly, the sky was clear gold shading to yellow and blue above. Stars were out, pale and wan, but growing brighter. The earth appeared bare and heaving, like a calm sea. The wind bore a fragrance new to Helen, acridly sweet and clean, and it was so cold it made her fingers numb.
    “I heard some animal yelp,” said Bo suddenly, and she listened with head poised.
    But Helen heard nothing save the steady clip-clop of hoofs, the clink of chains, the creak and rattle of the old stage, and occasionally the low voices of the men