Desert Gold by Zane Grey

long he could not see the farther end, stood up blacker than the trees. As he dismounted, cramped and sore, he could scarcely stand. Lash came alongside. He spoke, and someone with a big, hearty voice replied to him. Then it seemed to Dick that he was led into blackness like pitch, where, presently, he felt blankets thrown on him, and then his drowsy faculties faded.

4
Forlorn River
    When Dick opened his eyes a flood of golden sunshine streamed in at the open window under which he lay. His first thought was one of blank wonder as to where in the world he happened to be. The room was large, square, adobe-walled. It was littered with saddles, harness, blankets. Upon the floor was a bed spread out upon a tarpaulin. Probably this was where someone had slept. The sight of huge dusty spurs, a gun belt with sheath and gun, and a pair of leather chaps bristling with broken cactus thorns recalled to Dick the cowboys, the ride, Mercedes, and the whole strange adventure that had brought him there.
    He did not recollect having removed his boots; indeed, upon second thought, he knew he had not done so. But there they stood upon the floor. Ladd and Lash must have taken them off when he was so exhausted and sleepy that he could not tell what was happening. He felt a dead weight of complete lassitude, and he did not want to move. A sudden pain in his hand caused him to hold it up. It was black and blue, swollen to almost twice its normal size, and stiff as a board. The knuckles were skinned and crusted with dry blood. Dick soliloquized that it was the worst-looking hand he had seen since football days, and that it would inconvenience him for some time.
    A warm, dry, fragrant breeze came through the window. Dick caught again the sweet smell of flowers or fruit. He heard the fluttering of leaves, the murmur of running water, the twittering of birds, then the sound of approaching footsteps and voices. The door at the far end of the room was open. Through it he saw poles of peeled wood upholding a porch roof, a bench, rosebushes in bloom, grass, and beyond these bright-green foliage of trees.
    â€œHe shore was sleepin’ when I looked in an hour ago,” said a voice that Dick recognized as Ladd’s.
    â€œLet him sleep,” came the reply in deep, good-natured tones. “Mrs. B. says the girl’s never moved. Must have been a tough ride for them both. Forty miles through cactus!”
    â€œYoung Gale hoofed darn near half the way,” replied Ladd. “We tried to make him ride one of our hosses. If we had, we’d never got here. A walk like that’d killed me an’ Jim.”
    â€œWell, Laddy, I’m right down glad to see you boys, and I’ll do all I can for the young couple,” said the other. “But I’m doing some worry here; don’t mistake me.”
    â€œAbout your stock?”
    â€œI’ve got only a few head of cattle at the oasis now. I’m worrying some, mostly about my horses. The U.S. is doing some worrying, too, don’t mistake me. The rebels have worked west and north as far as Casita. There are no cavalrymen along the line beyond Casita, and there can’t be. It’s practically waterless desert. But these rebels are desert men. They could cross the line beyond the Rio Forlorn and smuggle arms into Mexico. Of course, my job is to keep tab on Chinese and Japs trying to get into the U.S. from Magdalena Bay. But I’m supposed to patrol the borderline. I’m going to hire some rangers. Now, I’m not so afraid of being shot up, though out in this lonely place there’s danger of it; what I’m afraid of most is losing that bunch of horses. If any rebels come this far, or if they ever hear of my horses, they’re going to raid me. You know what those guerrilla Mexicans will do for horses. They’re crazy on horseflesh. They know fine horses. They breed the finest in the world. So I don’t sleep nights anymore.”
    â€œReckon me