If that was not the old Sally Langdon I did not know who it was. Miss Sampson tried to appear offended, and Steele tried to look insulted, but they both failed. They could not have looked anything but happy. Youth and love were too strong for this couple, whom circumstances might well have made grave and thoughtful. They were magnet and steel, powder and spark. Any moment, right before my eyes, I expected them to rush right into each other's arms. And when they refrained, merely substituting clasped hands for a dearer embrace, I closed my eyes and remembered them, as they would live in my memory forever, standing crushed together on the ridge that day, white lips to white lips, embodying all that was beautiful, passionate and tragic.
And I, who had been their undoing, in the end was their salvation. How I hugged that truth to my heart!
It seemed, following Sally's pert remark, that after an interval of decent dignity, Diane and Steele did go out upon the top of the stage. “Russ,” whispered Sally, “they're up to something. I heard a few words. I bet you they're going to get married in San Antonio.”
“Well, it's about time,” I replied.
“But oughtn't they take us into their confidence?”
“Sally, they have forgotten we are upon the earth.”
“Oh, I'm so glad they're happy!”
Then there was a long silence. It was better for me to ride lying down, in which position I was at this time. After a mile Sally took my hand and held it without speaking. My heart leaped, but I did not open my eyes or break that spell even with a whisper. “Russ, I must say—tell you—”
She faltered, and still I kept my eyes closed. I did not want to wake up from that dream. “Have I been very—very sad?” she went on.
“Sad and strange, Sally. That was worse than my bullet-holes.” She gripped my hand. I felt her hair on my brow, felt her breath on my cheek.
“Russ, I swore—I'd hate you if you—if you—”
“I know. Don't speak of it,” I interposed hurriedly.
“But I don't hate you. I—I love you. And I can't give you up!”
“Darling! But, Sally, can you get over it—can you forget?”
“Yes. That horrid black spell had gone with the miles. Little by little, mile after mile, and now it's gone! But I had to come to the point. To go back on my word! To tell you. Russ, you never,never had any sense!”
Then I opened my eyes and my arms, too, and we were reunited. It must have been a happy moment, so happy that it numbed me beyond appreciation. “Yes, Sally,” I agreed; “but no man ever had such a wonderful girl.”
“Russ, I never—took off your ring,” she whispered.
“But you hid your hand from my sight,” I replied quickly.
“Oh dear Russ, we're crazy—as crazy as those lunatics outside. Let's think a little.”
I was very content to have no thought at all, just to see and feel her close to me.
“Russ, will you give up the Ranger Service for me?” she asked.
“Indeed I will.”
“And leave this fighting Texas, never to return till the day of guns and Rangers and bad men and even-breaks is past?”
“Yes.”
“Will you go with me to my old home? It was beautiful once, Russ, before it was let run to rack and ruin. A thousand acres. An old stone house. Great mossy oaks. A lake and river. There are bear, deer, panther, wild boars in the breaks. You can hunt. And ride! I've horses, Russ, such horses! They could run these scrubby broncos off their legs. Will you come?”
“Come! Sally, I rather think I will. But, dearest, after I'm well again I must work,” I said earnestly. “I've got to have a job.”
“You're indeed a poor cowboy out of a job! Remember your deceit. Oh, Russ! Well, you'll have work, never fear.”
“Sally, is this old home of yours near the one Diane speaks of so much?” I asked.
“Indeed it is. But hers has been kept under cultivation and in repair, while mine has run down. That will be our work, to build it up. So it's settled then?”
“Almost. There are certain—er—formalities—needful in a compact of this kind.” She looked inquiringly at me, with a soft flush. “Well, if you are so dense, try to bring back that Sally Langdon who used to torment me. How you broke your promises! How you leaned from your saddle! Kiss me, Sally!”
Later, as we drew close to Uvalde, Sally and I sat in one seat, after the manner of Diane and Vaughn, and we looked out over the west where the sun was setting behind dim and distant mountains. We were fast leaving the wild and barren border. Already it seemed far beyond that broken rugged horizon with its dark line silhouetted against the rosy and golden sky. Already the spell of its wild life and the grim and haunting faces had begun to fade out of my memory. Let newer Rangers, with less to lose, and with the call in their hearts, go on with our work 'till soon that wild border would be safe!
The great Lone Star State must work out its destiny. Some distant day, in the fulness of time, what place the Rangers had in that destiny would be history.