109CHAPTER VIIITHE BOONE-BELLAMY FEUD IS RENEWED
“Here’s six bits on the counter under a seed catalogue. Did you leave it here, daddy?”
Champ Lee, seated on the porch just outside the store door, took the pipe from his mouth and answered:
“Why no, honey, I don’t reckon I did, not to my ricollection.”
“That’s queer. I know I didn’t——”
Melissy broke her sentence sharply. There had come into her eyes a spark of excitement, simultaneous with the brain-flash which told her who had left the money. No doubt the quarter and the half dollar had been lying there ever since the day last week when Morse had eaten at the Bar Double G. She addressed an envelope, dropped the money in, sealed the flap, and put the package beside a letter addressed to T. L. Morse.
Lee, full of an unhappy restlessness which he could not control, presently got up and moved away to the stables. He was blaming himself bitterly for the events of the past few days.
It was perhaps half an hour later that Melissy110looked up to see the sturdy figure of Morse in the doorway. During the past year he had filled out, grown stronger and more rugged. His deep tan and heavy stride pronounced him an outdoor man no less surely than the corduroy suit and the high laced miners’ boots.
He came forward to the postoffice window without any sign of recognition.
“Is Mr. Flatray still here?”
“No!” Without further explanation Melissy took from the box the two letters addressed to Morse and handed them to him.
The girl observed the puzzled look that stole over his face at sight of the silver in one envelope. A glance at the business address printed on the upper left hand corner enlightened him. He laid the money down in the stamp window.
“This isn’t mine.”
“You heard what my father said?”
“That applies to next time, not to this.”
“I think it does apply to this time.”
“I can’t see how you’re going to make me take it back. I’m an obstinate man.”
“Just as you like.”
A sudden flush of anger swept her. She caught up the silver and flung it through the open window into the dusty road.
His dark eyes met hers steadily and a dull color burned in his tanned cheeks. Without a word he turned away, and instantly she regretted what she111had done. She had insulted him deliberately and put herself in the wrong. At bottom she was a tender-hearted child, even though her father and his friends had always spoiled her, and she could not but reproach herself for the hurt look she had brought into his strong, sad face. He was their enemy, of course, but even enemies have rights.
Morse walked out of the office looking straight before him, his strong back teeth gripped so that the muscles stood out on his salient jaw. Impulsively the girl ran around the counter after him.
He looked up from untying his horse to see her straight and supple figure running toward him. Her eager face was full of contrition and the color of pink rose petals came and went in it.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Morse. I oughtn’t to have done that. I hurt your feelings,” she cried.
At best he was never a handsome man, but now his deep, dark eyes lit with a glow that surprised her.
“Thank you. Thank you very much,” he said in a low voice.
“I’m so tempery,” she explained in apology, and added: “I suppose a nice girl wouldn’t have done it.”
“A nice girl did do it,” was all he could think to say.
“You needn’t take the trouble to say that. I know I’ve just scrambled up and am not ladylike and proper. Sometimes I don’t care. I like to be able112to do things like boys. But I suppose it’s dreadful.”
“I don’t think it is at all. None of your friends could think so. Not that I include myself among them,” he hastened to disclaim. “I can’t be both your friend and your enemy, can I?”
The trace of a sardonic smile was in his eyes. For the moment as she looked at him she thought he might. But she answered:
“I don’t quite see how.”
“You hate me, I suppose,” he blurted out bluntly.
“I suppose so.” And more briskly she added, with dimples playing near the corners of her mouth: “Of course I do.”
“That’s frank. It’s worth something to have so decent an enemy. I don’t believe you would shoot me in the back.”
“Some of the others would. You should be more careful,” she cried before she could stop herself.
He shrugged. “I take my fighting chance.”
“It isn’t much of a one. You’ll be shot at from ambush some day.”
“It wouldn’t be a new experience. I went through it last week.”
“Where?” she breathed.
“Down by Willow Wash.”
“Who did it?”
He laughed, without amusement. “I didn’t have my rifle with me, so I didn’t stay to inquire.”
“It must have been some of those wild vaqueros.”113
“That was my guess.”
“But you have other enemies, too.”
“Miss Lee,” he smiled.
“I mean others that are dangerous.”
“Your father?” he asked.
“Father would never do that except in a fair fight. I wasn’t thinking of him.”
“I don’t know whom you mean, but a few extras don’t make much difference when one is so liberally supplied already,” he said cynically.
“I shouldn’t make light of them if I were you,” she cautioned.
“Who do you mean?”
“I’ve said all I’m going to, and more than I ought,” she told him decisively. “Except this, that it’s your own fault. You shouldn’t be so stiff. Why don’t you compromise? With the cattlemen, for instance. They have a good deal of right on their side. Theydidhave the range first.”
“You should tell that to your father, too.”
“Dad runs sheep on the range to protect himself. He doesn’t drive out other people’s cattle and take away their living.”
“Well, I might compromise, but not at the end of a gun.”
“No, of course not. Here comes dad now,” she added hurriedly, aware for the first time that she had been holding an extended conversation with her father’s foe.114
“We started enemies and we quit enemies. Will you shake hands on that, Miss Lee?” he asked.
She held out her hand, then drew it swiftly back. “No, I can’t. I forgot. There’s another reason.”
“Another reason! You mean the Arkansas charge against me?” he asked quietly.
“No. I can’t tell you what it is.” She felt herself suffused in a crimson glow. How could she explain that she could not touch hands with him because she had robbed him of twenty thousand dollars?
Lee stopped at the steps, astonished to see his daughter and this man in talk together. Yesterday he would have resented it bitterly, but now the situation was changed. Something of so much greater magnitude had occurred that he was too perturbed to cherish his feud for the present. All night he had carried with him the dreadful secret he suspected. He could not look Melissy in the face, nor could he discuss the robbery with anybody. The one fact that overshadowed all others was that his little girl had gone out and held up a stage, that if she were discovered she would be liable to a term in the penitentiary. Laboriously his slow brain had worked it all out. A talk with Jim Budd had confirmed his conclusions. He knew that she had taken this risk in order to save him. He was bowed down with his unworthiness, with shame that he had dragged her into this horrible tangle. He was convinced that Jack Flatray would get at the truth,115and already he was resolved to come forward and claim the whole affair as his work.
“I’ve been apologizing to Mr. Morse for insulting him, dad,” the girl said immediately.
Her father passed a bony hand slowly across his unshaven chin. “That’s right, honey. If you done him a meanness, you had ought to say so.”
“She has said so very handsomely, Mr. Lee,” spoke up Morse.
“I’ve been warning him, dad, that he ought to be more careful how he rides around alone, with the cattlemen feeling the way they do.”
“It’s a fact they feel right hot under the collar. You’re ce’tainly a temptation to them, Mr. Morse,” the girl’s father agreed.
The mine owner shifted the subject of conversation. He was not a man of many impulses, but he yielded to one now.
“Can’t we straighten out this trouble between us, Mr. Lee? You think I’ve done you an injury. Perhaps I have. If we both mean what’s right, we can get together and fix it up in a few minutes.”
The old Southerner stiffened and met him with an eye of jade. “I ain’t asking any favors of you, Mr. Morse. We’ll settle this matter some day, and settle it right. But you can’t buy me off. I’ll not take a bean from you.”
The miner’s eyes hardened. “I’m not trying to buy you off. I made a fair offer of peace. Since you have rejected it, there is nothing more to be116said.” With that he bowed stiffly and walked away, leading his horse.
Lee’s gaze followed him and slowly the eyes under the beetled brows softened.
“Mebbe I done wrong, honey. Mebbe I’d ought to have given in. I’m too proud to compromise when he’s got me beat. That’s what’s ailin’ with me. But I reckon I’d better have knuckled under.”
The girl slipped her arm through his. “Sometimes I’m just like that too, daddy. I’ve justgotto win before I make up. I don’t blame you a mite, but, all the same, we should have let him fix it up.”
It was characteristic of them both that neither thought of reversing the decision he had made. It was done now, and they would abide by the results. But already both of them half regretted, though for very different reasons. Lee was thinking that for Melissy’s sake he should have made a friend of the man he hated, since it was on the cards that within a few days she might be in his power. The girl’s feeling, too, was unselfish. She could not forget the deep hunger for friendship that had shone in the man’s eyes. He was alone in the world, a strong man surrounded by enemies who would probably destroy him in the end. There was stirring in her heart a sweet womanly pity and sympathy for the enemy whose proffer of friendship had been so cavalierly rejected.
The sight of a horseman riding down the trail117from the Flagstaff mine shook Melissy into alertness.
“Look, dad. It’s Mr. Norris,” she cried.
Morse, who had not yet recognized him, swung to the saddle, his heart full of bitterness. Every man’s hand was against his, and every woman’s. What was there in his nature that turned people against him so inevitably? There seemed to be some taint in him that corroded all natural human kindness.
A startled oath brought him from his somber reflections. He looked up, to see the face of a man with whom in the dead years of the past he had been in bitter feud.
Neither of them spoke. Morse looked at him with a face cold as chiselled marble and as hard. The devil’s own passion burned in the storm-tossed one of the other.
Norris was the first to break the silence.
“So it was all a lie about your being killed, Dick Bellamy.”
The mine owner did not speak, but the rigor of his eyes did not relax.
“Gave it out to throw me off your trail, did you? Knew mighty well I’d cut the heart out of the man who shot poor Shep.” The voice of the cattle detective rang out in malignant triumph. “You guessed it c’rect, seh. Right here’s where the Boone-Bellamy feud claims another victim.”
The men were sitting face to face, so close that118their knees almost touched. As Norris jerked out his gun Bellamy caught his wrist. They struggled for an instant, the one to free his arm, the other to retain his grip. Bellamy spurred his horse closer. The more powerful of the two, he slowly twisted around the imprisoned wrist. Inch by inch the revolver swung in a jerky, spasmodic circle. There was a moment when it pointed directly at the mine owner’s heart. His enemy’s finger crooked on the trigger, eyes passionate with the stark lust to kill. But the pressure on the wrist had numbed the hand. The weapon jumped out of line, went clattering down into the dust from the palsied fingers.
Lee ran forward and pushed between the men.
“Here. Ain’t you boys got ary bettah sense than to clinch like wildcats?” he demanded, jerking one of the horses away by the bridle. “No, you don’t, Phil. I’ll take keer of this gun for the present.” It was noticeable that Beauchamp Lee’s speech grew more after the manner of the plantations when he became excited.
The cowpuncher, white with anger, glared at his enemy and poured curses at him, the while he nursed his strained wrist. For the moment he was impotent, but he promised himself vengeance in full when they should meet again.
“That’ll be enough from you now, Phil,” said the old ex-Confederate good-naturedly, leading him toward the house and trying to soothe his malevolent chagrin.119
Bellamy turned and rode away. At the corner of the corral he met Jack Flatray riding up.
“Been having a little difference of opinion with our friend, haven’t you, seh?” the deputy asked pleasantly.
“Yes.” Bellamy gave him only the crisp monosyllable and changed the subject immediately. “What about this stage robbery? Have you been able to make anything of it, Mr. Flatray?”
“Why, yes. I reckon we’ll be able to land the miscreant mebbe, if things come our way,” drawled the deputy. “Wouldn’t it be a good idea to offer a reward, though, to keep things warm?”
“I thought of that. I made it a thousand dollars. The posters ought to be out to-day on the stage.”
“Good enough!”
“Whom do you suspect?”
Jack looked at him with amiable imperturbability. “I reckon I better certify my suspicions, seh, before I go to shouting them out.”
“All right, sir. Since I’m paying the shot, it ought to entitle me to some confidence. But it’s up to you. Get back the twenty thousand dollars, that’s all I ask, except that you put the fellow behind the bars of the penitentiary for a few years.”
Flatray gave him an odd smile which he did not understand.
“I hope to be able to accommodate you, seh, about this time to-morrow, so far as getting the gold120goes. You’ll have to wait a week or two before the rest of your expectations get gratified.”
“Any reasonable time. I want to see him there eventually. That’s all.”
Jack laughed again, without giving any reason for his mirth. That ironic smile continued to decorate his face for some time. He seemed to have some inner source of mirth he did not care to disclose.
121CHAPTER IXTHE DANGER LINE
Though Champ Lee had business in Mesa next day that would not be denied, he was singularly loath to leave the ranch. He wanted to stay close to Melissy until the dénouement of the hunt for the stage robber. On the other hand, it was well known that his contest with Morse for the Monte Cristo was up for a hearing. To stay at home would have been a confession of his anxiety that he did not want to make. But it was only after repeated charges to his daughter to call him up by telephone immediately if anything happened that he could bring himself to ride away.
He was scarcely out of sight when a Mexican vaquero rode in with the information that old Antonio, on his way to the post at Three Pines with a second drove of sheep, had twisted his ankle badly about fifteen miles from the ranch. After trying in vain to pick up a herder at Mesa by telephone, Melissy was driven to the only feasible course left her, to make the drive herself in place of Antonio. There were fifteen hundred sheep in the bunch, and122they must be taken care of at once by somebody competent for the task. She knew she could handle them, for it had amused her to take charge of a herd often for an hour or two at a time. The long stretch over the desert would be wearisome and monotonous, but she had the slim, muscular tenacity of a half-grown boy. It did not matter what she wanted to do. The thing to which she came back always was that the sheep must be taken care of.
She left directions with Jim for taking care of the place, changed to a khaki skirt and jacket, slapped a saddle on her bronco, and disappeared across country among the undulations of the sandhills. A tenderfoot would have been hopelessly lost in the sameness of these hills and washes, but Melissy knew them as a city dweller does his streets. Straight as an arrow she went to her mark. The tinkle of distant sheep-bells greeted her after some hours’ travel, and soon the low, ceaseless bleating of the herd.
The girl found Antonio propped against a piñon tree, solacing himself philosophically with cigarettes. He was surprised to see her, but made only a slight objection to her taking his place. His ankle was paining him a good deal, and he was very glad to get the chance to pull himself to her saddle and ride back to the ranch.
A few quick words sent the dog Colin out among123the sheep, by now scattered far and wide over the hill. They presently came pouring toward her, diverged westward, and massed at the base of a butte rising from a dry arroyo. The journey had begun, and hour after hour it continued through the hot day, always in a cloud of dust flung up by the sheep, sometimes through the heavy sand of a wash, often over slopes of shale, not seldom through thick cactus beds that shredded her skirt and tore like fierce, sharp fingers at her legging-protected ankles. The great gray desert still stretched before her to the horizon’s edge, and still she flung the miles behind her with the long, rhythmic stride that was her birthright from the hills. A strong man, unused to it, would have been staggering with stiff fatigue, but this slender girl held the trail with light grace, her weight still carried springily on her small ankles.
Once she rested for a few minutes, flinging herself down into the sand at length, her head thrown back from the full brown throat so that she could gaze into the unstained sky of blue. Presently the claims of this planet made themselves heard, for she, too, was elemental and a creature of instinct. The earth was awake and palpitating with life, the low, indefatigable life of creeping things and vegetation persisting even in this waste of rock and sand.
But she could not rest long, for Diablo Cañon must be reached before dark. The sheep would be124very thirsty by the time they arrived, and she could not risk letting them tear down the precipitous edge among the sharp rocks in the dark. Already over the sand stretches a peculiar liquid glow was flooding, so that the whole desert seemed afire. The burning sun had slipped behind a saddle of the purple peaks, leaving a brilliant horizon of many mingled shades.
It was as she came forward to the cañon’s edge in this luminous dusk that Melissy became aware of a distant figure on horseback, silhouetted for a moment against the skyline. One glance was all she got of it, for she was very busy with the sheep, working them leisurely toward the black chasm that seemed to yawn for them. High rock walls girt the cañon, gigantic and bottomless in the gloom. A dizzy trail zigzagged back and forth to the pool below, and along this she and the collie skilfully sent the eager, thirsty animals.
The mass of the sheep were still huddled on the edge of the ravine when there came the thud of horses’ hoofs and the crack of revolvers, accompanied by hoarse, triumphant yells and cries. Melissy knew instantly what it was—the attack of cattlemen upon her defenseless flock. They had waited until the sheep were on the edge of the precipice, and now they were going to drive the poor creatures down upon the rocks two hundred feet below. Her heart leaped to her throat, but scarce more125quickly than she upon a huge boulder bordering the trail.
“Back! Keep back!” she heard herself crying, and even as she spoke a bullet whistled through the rim of her felt hat.
Standing there boldly, unconscious of danger, the wind draped and defined the long lines of her figure like those of the Winged Victory.
The foremost rider galloped past, waving his sombrero and shooting into the frightened mass in front of him. Within a dozen feet of her he turned his revolver upon the girl, then, with an oath of recognition, dragged his pony back upon its haunches. Another horse slithered into it, and a third.
“It’s ’Lissie Lee!” a voice cried in astonishment; and another, with a startled oath, “You’re right, Bob!”
The first rider gave his pony the spur, swung it from the trail in a half-circle which brought it back at the very edge of the ravine, and blocked the forward pour of terror-stricken sheep. Twice his revolver rang out. The girl’s heart stood still, for the man was Norris, and it seemed for an instant as if he must be swept over the precipice by the stampede. The leaders braced themselves to stop, but were slowly pushed forward toward the edge. One of the other riders had by this time joined the daring cowpuncher, and together they stemmed the tide. The pressure on the trail126relaxed and the sheep began to mill around and around.
It was many minutes before they were sufficiently quieted to trust upon the trail again, but at last the men got them safely to the bottom, with the exception of two or three killed in the descent.
Her responsibility for the safety of the sheep gone, the girl began to crawl down the dark trail. She could not see a yard in front of her, and at each step the path seemed to end in a gulf of darkness. She could not be sure she was on the trail at all, and her nerve was shaken by the experience through which she had just passed. Presently she stopped and waited, for the first time in her life definitely and physically afraid. She stood there trembling, a long, long time it seemed to her, surrounded by the impenetrable blackness of night.
Then a voice came to her.
“Melissy!”
She answered, and the voice came slowly nearer.
“You’re off the trail,” it told her presently, just before a human figure defined itself in the gloom.
“I’m afraid,” she sobbed.
A strong hand came from nowhere and caught hers. An arm slipped around her waist.
“Don’t be afraid, little girl. I’ll see no harm comes to you,” the man said to her with a quick, fierce tenderness.
The comfort of his support was unspeakable. It stole into her heart like water to the roots of thirsty127plants. To feel her head against his shoulder, to know he held her tight, meant safety and life. He had told her not to be afraid, and she was so no longer.
“You shot at me,” she murmured in reproach.
“I didn’t know. We thought it was Bellamy’s herd. But it’s true, God forgive me! I did.”
There was in his voice the warm throb of emotion, and in his eyes something she had never seen before in those of any human being. Like stars they were, swimming in light, glowing with the exultation of the triumph he was living. She was a splendid young animal, untaught of life, generous, passionate, tempestuous, and as her pliant, supple body lay against his some sex instinct old as creation stirred potently within her. She had found her mate. It came to her as innocently as the same impulse comes to the doe when the spring freshets are seeking the river, and as innocently her lips met his in their first kiss of surrender. Something irradiated her, softened her, warmed her. Was it love? She did not know, but as yet she was still happy in the glow of it.
Slowly, hand in hand, they worked back to the trail and down it to the bottom of the cañon. The soft velvet night enwrapped them. It shut them from the world and left them one to one. From the meeting palms strange electric currents tingled through the girl and flushed her to an ecstasy of emotion.128
A camp fire was already burning cheerfully when they reached the base of the descent. A man came forward to meet them. He glanced curiously at the girl after she came within the circle of light. Her eyes were shining as from some inner glow, and she was warm with a soft color that vitalized her beauty. Then his gaze passed to take in with narrowed lids her companion.
“I see you found her,” he said dryly.
“Yes, I found her, Bob.”
He answered the spirit of Farnum’s words rather than the letter of them, nor could he keep out of his bearing and his handsome face the exultation that betrayed success.
“H’mp!” Farnum turned from him and addressed the girl: “I suppose Norris has explained our mistake and eaten crow for all of us, Miss Lee. I don’t see how come we to make such a blame’ fool mistake. It was gitting dark, and we took your skirt for a greaser’s blanket. It’s ce’tainly on us.”
“Yes, he has explained.”
“Well, there won’t any amount of explaining square the thing. We might ’a’ done you a terrible injury, Miss Lee. It was gilt-edged luck for us that you thought to jump on that rock and holler.”
“I was thinking of the sheep,” she said.
“Well, you saved them, and I’m right glad of it. We ain’t got any use for Mary’s little trotter, but129your father’s square about his. He keeps them herded up on his own range. We may not like it, but we ce’tainly aren’t going to the length of attackin’ his herd.” Farnum’s gaze took in her slender girlishness, and he voiced the question in his mind. “How in time do you happen to be sheep-herding all by your lone a thousand miles from nowhere, Miss Lee?”
She explained the circumstances after she had moved forward to warm herself by the fire. For already night was bringing a chill breeze with it. The man cooking the coffee looked up and nodded pleasantly, continuing his work. Norris dragged up a couple of saddle blankets and spread them on the ground for her to sit upon.
“You don’t have to do a thing but boss this outfit,” he told her with his gay smile. “You’re queen of the range to-night, and we’re your herders or your punchers, whichever you want to call us. To-morrow morning two of us are going to drive these sheep on to the trading post for you, and the other one is going to see you safe back home. It’s all arranged.”
They were as good as his word. She could not move from her place to help herself. It was their pleasure to wait upon her as if she had really been a queen and they her subjects. Melissy was very tired, but she enjoyed their deference greatly. She was still young enough to find delight in the fact that three young and more or less good-looking men130were vying with each other to anticipate her needs.
Like them, she ate and drank ravenously of the sandwiches and the strong coffee, though before the meal was over she found herself nodding drowsily. The tactful courtesy of these rough fellows was perfect. They got the best they had for her of their blankets, dragged a piñon root to feed the glowing coals, and with cheerful farewells of “Buenos Noches” retired around a bend in the cañon and lit another fire for themselves.
The girl snuggled down into the warmth of the blankets and stretched her weary limbs in delicious rest. She did not mean to go to sleep for a long time. She had much to think about. So she looked up the black sheer cañon walls to the deep blue, starry sky above, and relived her day in memory.
A strange excitement tingled through her, born of shame and shyness and fear, and of something else she did not understand, something which had lain banked in her nature like a fire since childhood and now threw forth its first flame of heat. What did it mean, that passionate fierceness with which her lips had clung to his? She liked him, of course, but surely liking would not explain the pulse that her first kiss had sent leaping through her blood like wine. Did she love him?
Then why did she distrust him? Why was there fear in her sober second thought of him? Had she done wrong? For the moment all her maiden defenses had been wiped out and he had ridden131roughshod over her reserves. But somewhere in her a bell of warning was ringing. The poignant sting of sex appeal had come home to her for the first time. Wherefore in this frank child of the wilderness had been born a shy shame, a vague trembling for herself that marked a change. At sunrise she had been still treading gayly the primrose path of childhood; at sunset she had entered upon her heritage of womanhood.
The sun had climbed high and was peering down the walls of the gulch when she awoke. She did not at once realize where she was, but came presently to a blinking consciousness of her surroundings. The rock wall on one side was still shadowed, while the painted side of the other was warm with the light which poured upon it. The Gothic spires, the Moorish domes, the weird and mysterious caves, which last night had given more than a touch of awe to her majestic bedchamber, now looked a good deal less like the ruins of mediæval castles and the homes of elfin sprites and gnomes.
“Buenos dios, muchacha,” a voice called cheerfully to her.
She did not need to turn to know to whom it belonged. Among a thousand she would have recognized its tone of vibrant warmth.
“Buenos,” she answered, and, rising hurriedly, she fled to rearrange her hair and dress.
It was nearly a quarter of an hour later that she reappeared, her thick coils of ebon-hued tresses shining132in the sun, her skirt smoothed to her satisfaction, and the effects of feminine touches otherwise visible upon her fresh, cool person.
“Breakfast is served,” Norris sang out.
“Dinner would be nearer it,” she laughed. “Why in the world didn’t you boys waken me? What time is it, anyhow?”
“It’s not very late—a little past noon maybe. You were all tired out with your tramp yesterday. I didn’t see why you shouldn’t have your sleep out.”
He was pouring a cup of black coffee for her from the smoky pot, and she looked around expectantly for the others. Simultaneously she remembered that she had not heard the bleating of the sheep.
“Where are the others—Mr. Farnum and Sam? And have you the sheep all gagged?” she laughed.
He gave her that odd look of smoldering eyes behind half-shut lids.
“The boys have gone on to finish the drive for you. They started before sun-up this morning. I’m elected to see you back home safely.”
“But——”
Her protest died unspoken. She could not very well frame it in words, and before his bold, possessive eyes the girl’s long, dark lashes wavered to the cheeks into which the hot blood was beating. Nevertheless, the feeling existed that she wished one of the others had stayed instead of him. It was born, no doubt, partly of the wave of shyness133running through her, but partly too of instinctive maidenly resistance to something in his look, in the assurance of his manner, that seemed to claim too much. Last night he had taken her by storm and at advantage. Something of shame stirred in her that he had found her so easy a conquest, something too of a new vague fear of herself. She resented the fact that he could so move her, even though she still felt the charm of his personal presence. She meant to hold herself in abeyance, to make sure of herself and of him before she went further.
But the cowpuncher had no intention of letting her regain so fully control of her emotions. Experience of more than one young woman had taught him that scruples were likely to assert themselves after reflection, and he purposed giving her no time for that to-day.
He did not count in vain upon the intimacy of companionship forced upon them by the circumstances, nor upon the skill with which he knew how to make the most of his manifold attractions. His rôle was that of the comrade, gay with good spirits and warm with friendliness, solicitous of her needs, but not oppressively so. If her glimpse of him at breakfast had given the girl a vague alarm, she laughed her fears away later before his open good humor.
There had been a time when he had been a part of that big world “back in the States,” peopled so generously by her unfettered imagination. He knew134how to talk, and entertainingly, of books and people, of events and places he had known. She had not knowledge enough of life to doubt his stories, nor did she resent it that he spoke of this her native section with the slighting manner of one who patronized it with his presence. Though she loved passionately her Arizona, she guessed its crudeness, and her fancy magnified the wonders of that southern civilization from which it was so far cut off.
Farnum had left his horse for the girl, and after breakfast the cowpuncher saddled the broncos and brought them up. Melissy had washed the dishes, filled his canteen, and packed the saddle bags. Soon they were off, climbing slowly the trail that led up the cañon wall. She saw the carcass of a dead sheep lying on the rocks half way down the cliff, and had spoken of it before she could stop herself.
“What is that? Isn’t it——?”
“Looks to me like a boulder,” lied her escort unblushingly. There was no use, he judged, in recalling unpleasant memories.
Nor did she long remember. The dry, exhilarating sunshine and the sting of gentle, wide-swept breezes, the pleasure of swift motion and the ring of that exultingly boyish voice beside her, combined to call the youth in her to rejoice. Firm in the saddle she rode, as graceful a picture of piquant girlhood as could be conceived, thrilling to the silent voices of the desert. They traveled in a sunlit sea135of space, under a sky of blue, in which tenuous cloud lakes floated. Once they came on a small bunch of hill cattle which went flying like deer into the covert of a draw. A rattlesnake above a prairie dog’s hole slid into the mesquit. A swift watched them from the top of a smooth rock, motionless so long as they could see. She loved it all, this immense, deserted world of space filled with its multitudinous dwellers.
They unsaddled at Dead Cow Creek, hobbled the ponies, and ate supper. Norris seemed in no hurry to resaddle. He lay stretched carelessly at full length, his eyes upon her with veiled admiration. She sat upright, her gaze on the sunset with its splashes of topaz and crimson and saffron, watching the tints soften and mellow as dusk fell. Every minute now brought its swift quota of changing beauty. A violet haze enveloped the purple mountains, and in the crotch of the hills swam a lake of indigo. The raw, untempered glare of the sun was giving place to a limitless pour of silvery moonlight.
Her eyes were full of the soft loveliness of the hour when she turned them upon her companion. He answered promptly her unspoken question.
“You bet it is! A night for the gods—or for lovers.”
He said it in a murmur, his eyes full on hers, and his look wrenched her from her mood. The mask of comradeship was gone. He looked at her136hungrily, as might a lover to whom all spiritual heights were denied.
Her sooty lashes fell before this sinister spirit she had evoked, but were raised instantly at the sound of him drawing his body toward her. Inevitably there was a good deal of the young animal in her superbly healthy body. She had been close to nature all day, the riotous passion of spring flowing free in her as in the warm earth herself. But the magic of the mystic hills had lifted her beyond the merely personal. Some sense of grossness in him for the first time seared across her brain. She started up, and her face told him she had taken alarm.
“We must be going,” she cried.
He got to his feet. “No hurry, sweetheart.”
The look in his face startled her. It was new to her in her experience of men. Never before had she met elemental lust.
“You’re near enough,” she cautioned sharply.
He cursed softly his maladroitness.
“I was nearer last night, honey,” he reminded her.
“Last night isn’t to-night.”
He hesitated. Should he rush her defenses, bury her protests in kisses? Or should he talk her out of this harsh mood? Last night she had been his. There were moments during the day when she had responded to him as a musical instrument does to skilled fingers. But for the moment his power137over her was gone. And he was impatient of delay.
“What’s the matter with you?” he asked roughly.
“We’ll start at once.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
Frightened though she was, her gaze held steadily to his. It was the same instinct in her that makes one look a dangerous wild beast straight in the eye.
“What’s got into you?” he demanded sullenly.
“I’m going home.”
“After a while.”
“Now.”
“I reckon not just yet. It’s my say-so.”
“Don’t you dare stop me.”
The passion in him warred with prudence. He temporized. “Why, honey! I’m the man that loves you.”
She would not see his outstretched hands.
“Then saddle my horse.”
“By God, no! You’re going to listen to me.”
His anger ripped out unexpectedly, even to him. Whatever fear she felt, the girl crushed down. He must not know her heart was drowned in terror.
“I’ll listen after we’ve started.”
He cursed her fickleness. “What’s ailin’ you, girl? I ain’t a man to be put off this way.”
“Don’t forget you’re in Arizona,” she warned.
He understood what she meant. In the ranch country no man could with impunity insult a woman.138
Standing defiantly before him, her pliant form very straight, the underlying blood beating softly under the golden brown of her cheeks, one of the thick braids of her heavy, blue-black hair falling across the breast that rose and fell a little fast, she was no less than a challenge of Nature to him. He looked into a mobile face as daring and as passionate as his own, warm with the life of innocent youth, and the dark blood mantled his face.
“Saddle the horses,” she commanded.
“When I get good and ready.”
“Now.”
“No, ma’am. We’re going to have a talk first.”
She walked across to the place where her pony grazed, slipped on the bridle, and brought the animal back to the saddle. Norris watched her fitting the blankets and tightening the cinch without a word, his face growing blacker every moment. Before she could start he strode forward and caught the rein.
“I’ve got something to say to you,” he told her rudely. “You’re not going now. So that’s all about it.”
Her lips tightened. “Let go of my horse.”
“We’ll talk first.”
“Do you think you can force me to stay here?”
“You’re going to hear what I’ve got to say.”
“You bully!”
“I’ll tell what I know—Miss Hold-up.”
“Tell it!” she cried.139
He laughed harshly, his narrowed eyes watching her closely. “If you throw me down now, I’ll ce’tainly tell it. Be reasonable, girl.”
“Let go my rein!”
“I’ve had enough of this. Tumble off that horse, or I’ll pull you off.”
Her dark eyes flashed scorn of him. “You coward! Do you think I’m afraid of you? Stand back!”
The man looked long at her, his teeth set; then caught at her strong little wrist. With a quick wrench she freed it, her eyes glowing like live coals.
“You dare!” she panted.
Her quirt rose and fell, the lash burning his wrist like a band of fire. With a furious oath he dropped his hand from the rein. Like a flash she was off, had dug her heels home, and was galloping into the moonlight recklessly as fast as she could send forward her pony. Stark terror had her by the throat. The fear of him flooded her whole being. Not till the drumming hoofs had carried her far did other emotions move her.
She was furious with him, and with herself for having been imposed upon by him. His beauty, his grace, his debonair manner—they were all hateful to her now. She had thought him a god among men, and he was of common clay. It was her vanity that was wounded, not her heart. She scourged herself because she had been so easily deceived, because140she had let herself become a victim of his good looks and his impudence. For that she had let him kiss her—yes, and had returned his kiss—she was heartily contemptuous of herself. Always she had held herself with an instinctive pride, but in her passion of abandonment the tears confessed now that this pride had been humbled to the dust.
This gusty weather of the spirit, now of chastened pride and now of bitter anger, carried her even through the group of live-oaks which looked down upon the silent houses of the ranch, lying in a sea of splendid moon-beat. She was so much less confident of herself than usual that she made up her mind to tell her father the whole story of the hold-up and of what this man had threatened.
This resolution comforted her, and it was with something approaching calmness that she rode past the corral fence and swung from the saddle in front of the house.