The Western novel has always been a highly popular literary genre, and few authors have made their name in that genre the way Zane Grey did. Best known perhaps for Riders of the Purple Sage (1912), a novel that did much to shape audience expectations for the Western novel in the decades that followed, Zane wrote five dozen other novels over a long literary career. On a recent trip to Texas, I read his 1931 novel West of the Pecos; and in the process, I learned much about what made Grey’s work popular in his time, and even more regarding why it might not speak so well to readers of today.
Grey’s early life – he was born in Ohio, studied at the University of Pennsylvania, and practiced dentistry in New York City – might not seem to have pointed the way to a career as a writer of Western novels. But even before he relocated with his wife to Altadena, California, he was drawn to the Western genre. The way he persisted with his literary aspirations, in the face of one rejection after another, should provide inspiration to anyone who wants to write for a living.
It is often a convention of the Western novel – and indeed, Grey had much to do with the formation of those conventions – that two characters will be brought together in the Western landscape, one of whom knows the West and one who does not. In the case of West of the Pecos, the newcomer to the West is Terrill Lambeth, the daughter of a Southern aristocrat who served as a colonel in the Confederate Army during the Civil War. With the South’s defeat and the ruination of his fortunes, Colonel Lambeth decides that he and his daughter will try to make a new start in the trans-Pecos region of West Texas – an area known for a harsh landscape and a lawless frontier society.
Like a couple of Shakespeare’s heroines – Viola from Twelfth Night and Rosalind from As You Like It come to mind – Terrill decides that, for safety’s sake, she will go west of the Pecos disguised as a young man. Terrill, in accordance with her disguise, wants to be called “Rill,” but the Lambeths’ black attendant, who has remained faithful to the family in spite of the end of slavery, replies that “you is what you is an’ you can’t nebber be what you ain’t” (p. 10).
Let me add here that (a) the idea of the faithful black attendant who stays with former slaveholders after the end of slavery is an incredibly grotesque and historically inaccurate stereotype and (b) the character’s name is itself so offensive to modern sensibilities that I can’t even bear to write his name here. I’ll just call him “S.”
On their way from the Deep South to the trans-Pecos, the Lambeths stop in San Antonio, Texas. At San Antonio, Terrill gets a sense of how different her new world is going to be, seeing “picturesque Mexicans with their serapes< their tight-legged flared-bottom trousers, their high-peaked sombreros; here and there a hard-eyed, watching man whom Lambeth designated as a Texas Ranger” (p. 13), along with soldiers, teamsters, buffalo hunters, cattlemen, horse dealers, gamblers, and ragged Confederate veterans undone by the war.
She also meets a young man named Pecos Smith, as he settles a fight outside a saloon. It quickly emerges that Pecos Smith, along with being a tough fighter, is basically a good young man. While some people whom he knows have engaged in unethical practices regarding the branding of cattle in the trans-Pecos (and eventually pay a high price for it), Pecos Smith himself has not crossed over those moral boundaries. He is a bit rough around the edges, and he just needs the redemptive love of a good woman in order to realize his potential. (Ms. Terrill Lambeth, please take note.)
Terrill’s journey to the trans-Pecos is a rough one. Hearing a loud rumbling noise that sounds somewhat like thunder, Terrill tells S. that “it cain’t be ordinary thunder” (p. 16) – and she’s right, because soon their wagon train is caught up in the middle of a buffalo stampede! As the rampaging animals draw ever closer to Terrill’s wagon, Terrill “lost the clearness of her faculties then, and seemed clutched between appalling despair and hope. But surely the wagon slowed, careened, almost upset. Then it stopped, and Terrill closed her eyes on the verge of collapse” (p. 20). Terrill’s path becomes an even more challenging when, perhaps inevitably, her father leaves the novel.
It should be no surprise that Terrill’s and Pecos Smith’s paths cross again, as Terrill encounters the treachery of some residents of the region and Pecos is put in the position of needing to rescue her. As Pecos goes into a tavern where the disguised Terrill has been unjustly detained, the narrator reflects how, “For years one of Pecos Smith’s essential habits had been to look at men, to gauge them in one lightning swift glance. The fact that he had been able to do so, in some instances, accounted for the fact that he was still alive” (p. 102).
When Terrill is released, Pecos “saw a slender, well-formed youth stagger out into the sunlight”, whose worn sombrero is “pulled well down, shading big, deep eyes…and a tanned, clean-cut face. The sombrero, however, showed a tuft of glossy hair through a hole in its crown, and also straggling locks from under the brim” (p. 107). The reader gets a strong sense that the secret of Terrill’s gender will be revealed to Pecos sooner or later.
And indeed, the revelation of Terrill’s gender, albeit delayed for quite some time, comes in the context of a confrontation between Pecos Smith and the novel’s chief villain, Breen Sawtell. Grey seems to enjoy depicting villains, as Sawtell is one of the most vividly drawn characters in the novel. Jack Palance or Lee Van Cleef would have had a field day playing him in a movie.
After a final confrontation with the evil Sawtell, Terrill expresses a wish that she could have shot Sawtell dead, as then “He couldn’t have told” the secret of her gender. In response, Pecos “believed she meant that Sawtell could not have betrayed her sex. That seemed natural. Terrill over-exaggerated some kind of shame in this dual character she had lived” (p. 251).
This novelistic crisis resolved, Pecos and Terrill return for a time to the more easterly parts of Texas, to outfit for a return to the trans-Pecos, where they hope to make a living through cattle ranching. At the coastal town of Rockport, they see young couples who are planning their own journeys out to the frontier. Pecos approves of the spirit he sees in these young pioneers-in-the-making, telling Terrill, “Yu cain’t fool me when I see people’s eyes. That’s why I’m alive, ’cause I can see what men think” (p. 259).
On their way to build their ranching dream, Pecos and Terrill and the rest of their party face a fight against hostile Native Americans at Horsehead Crossing, a desolate point for getting cattle across the Pecos River. The crossing is marked by the bones and skulls of cattle that had died there, trying to get to the water of the river: “It was a place where death stalked. No Indian teepee, no herder’s tent, no habitation had ever marked Horsehead Crossing. Men had to cross the Pecos there, but they shunned it as a pestilence” (p. 286). The fight with a party of Kiowa raiders at the crossing shows Grey’s ability to write scenes of action.
Because the book is called West of the Pecos and mostly takes place west of the Pecos, I was hoping that Grey would include the well-known character of Judge Roy Bean – that semi-historical, semi-legendary “hanging judge” who ran his courtroom out of a saloon and declared himself to be “the law west of the Pecos.”
And I was not disappointed, as Grey does indeed introduce Judge Roy Bean into the novel, as described here: “He appeared to be a short stout man, well along in years, with a long grey beard, cut round in a half circle. He was in his shirt sleeves, wore a huge light sombrero, and packed a gun at his hip” (p. 319).
His “courtroom” is just as colourful as the judge himself: “A rifle leaned against the post nearest the judge. Behind him on the corner post was a board sign upon which had been painted one word – Saloon. Above the wide steps, at the edge of the porch roof, was another and much larger one bearing the legend in large letters -- Law West of the Pecos. Above that hung a third shingle with the judge’s name” (p. 319).
And Judge Roy Bean turns out to be important in the resolution of the novel.
I read West of the Pecos while I was west of the Pecos, on a trip into the Big Bend region. To cross the Pecos River on U.S. Route 90 is quite a dramatic thing; the green and curving river flows slowly, far below a high bridge that connects two dry and stony bluffs, and the region west of the river does somehow look even wilder than other parts of West Texas. I imagined the people of earlier times coming to this river crossing, looking across the river, and saying to themselves, “Well, here we go.”
Even driving an air-conditioned car along U.S. 90, it’s quite a while before one gets to the little town of Langtry, where Judge Roy Bean’s barroom-turned-courtroom is lovingly preserved as the centerpiece of a park operated by the Texas Department of Transportation. In some ways, West of the Pecos was a suitable reading choice for me to take into this unique American region.
At the same time, I found West of the Pecos to have many limitations. The writing style is often pedestrian, even awkward. Grey’s manner of conveying regional vernacular through elaborate phonetic misspellings has not aged well. And, as mentioned above, the manner in which characters from cultural-minority backgrounds are depicted is often decidedly stereotypical and retrograde.
All that being said, I know that Grey has many fans who still take up his Western novels with pleasure and enthusiasm. If you are among them, then I wish you all happiness on your trail ride west toward the sunset. I just don’t think I’ll be riding there with you.