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Updated: June 27, 2025
The red light that dyed Lost Valley so wondrously at the hour of the sun's sharp decline above the peaks and ridges of the Cañon Country was awash in all the great sunken cup, save at the west under the Rockface where the shadows were already dark. Kenset drank in the beauty of the scene with smiling eyes. Already a love for this hidden paradise had grown wonderfully in his heart.
Kenset, where did you get this gun?" But Kenset did not speak. His shoulders trembled, his dark head was bowed to the earth. "Answer me," said Billy, "for as sure's I live, this here's Buck Courtrey's favourite gun the gun with the untrue firin' pin. Look here." And he held it toward Tharon who leaned near to look. True enough.
"Well," sighed Tharon, "she's gone, an' there ain't no use cryin' over spilt milk. What you ben a-doin' sence I helped you hang th' picture?" "Won't you sit down?" Kenset stepped aside. "It is uncomfortable to stand through a visit and I mean to have a long talk-fest with you, if you will be so kind."
Ellen sat still and watched him with a steady gaze. She was finding him strange. She looked at his olive drab garments, at the trim leather leggings that encased his lower limbs, at his smooth hands, at his face, and lastly at the dark shield on his breast. "Law?" she asked succinctly. "Well," smiled Kenset, "after a fashion."
They made a picture that Kenset never forgot, as he swung round the willows and faced them. El Rey screamed and pounded with his striped hoofs, but Tharon jerked him down with no gentle hand. "Be still, you bully!" she said sharply. "Why, Miss Last!" cried the forest man, "I'm so glad to meet you!" There was the genuine delight of a boy in his voice, and Tharon caught the note.
It took the sound of running horses, many of them coming up along the slopes, to bring Kenset back to the present with a snap, to make the woman reach swiftly for the bonnet and clap it on her head. "Mrs. Courtrey," said Kenset hurriedly, "this has been the first real talk I have had with any of my neighbours, and I want to thank you for it."
This was new work for Kenset, strange work, this waiting for men who called themselves the Vigilantes for a slim golden girl who rode and swore and pledged herself to blood! More than once in the quiet night that followed, Kenset wiped a hand across his brow and found it moist with sweat. What did he mean? Again and again he asked himself that question. What did he mean by Tharon Last?
The high tops of the pines seemed to cut the sky grotesquely. There was no light at the dim log house, no sound in the silent glade. Off to the right they heard the low of the little red cow which served the forest man with milk. They pounded to a sliding stop in the cabin's yard and Conford called sharply into the silent darkness. "Kenset! Hello Kenset!" Tharon held her breath and listened.
It was a gift he had given her, nothing less, and she made up her mind that Old Pete should sleep in peace under the pointing pine at Last's Holding and that his cross should also stand beside those other two in the carved granite. Billy, watching, read her mind with the half-tragic eyes of love. Kenset, seemingly unconscious, but keenly alive to everything, was at great loss to do so.
When the Drakes, father and sons, were gone back down to Corvan for good, Kenset stretched himself, physically and mentally, and began his life in the last frontier. He began to be out from dawn to dark riding the ridges, exploring the wooded slopes, the boldly upsweeping breasts of the nameless mountains, making friends with the rugged land.
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