CHAPTER XXVIIITHE HEART OF A ROSEAnd the evening and the morning were the second day. At a time when, through the diffused and fading light of the sun-vacant sky, the silver-pale stars blinked one by one in their awakening; when the protesting twitter of disturbed birds seeking their rest sounded sweetly clear above the steady rumble of the marshland frogs; when the velvet-footed killers stretched and yawned and gazed with dilated pupils at the near approach of night; when the men who persuaded luck to their advantage, in various ways, began to gather about the tables in cow-town and mining-camp, and there was a lighting of lamps by the foresighted and a trimming of wicks by the procrastinators—the French Rose faced her father, Jean, and did battle for love and happiness, though she knew it not.The easy-going Jean had known nothing of the manner in which their guest was wounded, nor by whom; and Rose had not thought it wise to tell him, even if it occurred to her in the stress of that first day. But Jean had heard many rumors in Twin River, many disquieting facts and equally disturbing inferences. He had hurried home beset with fears for the outcome, alarmed at the reckless step Rose had taken and vainly asking himself why. Immediately upon his entry he had set Pickles at a task which would occupy him away from the cabin. Standing moodily at the window he watched him go. Then he turned to his daughter for an explanation."Is Dave here yesterday?" he asked."Yes," replied Rose, non-committally.Jean turned over in his mind this new fact and fitted it into the pattern. "For why you go so fast to Twin?" he questioned."No one is here but me. Fritz, he go to the Two Y's ranch.""You tell him?""No. He hear Dave talk an' go to tell M'sieu Peters Dave have stole all his money.""Diable! Steal?""Yes."Jean knitted his brows in the effort to understand the reason for this; quite naturally he came back in a circle to his first inquiry and repeated it: "For why you go to Twin?""I go for men to catch Dave when he steal the money." This, while not strictly true, was the nearest to truth that Jean could understand.The trend of his thoughts was shown by his next question. "Dave—he know?" he asked, and his anxiety was apparent."Yes," was the brief answer."Mon Dieu!" exclaimed Jean. He turned from her and stared with unseeing eyes over the land he had struggled hard to make his own. And now he must lose it. Rapidly calculating how long his slender resources would support him until Rose could dispose of his stock and follow, despair came upon him as he realized that the vengeance of Dave was not to be escaped. "For why," he asked, hoarsely, "for why you do this?""For why?" repeated Rose and the thrill in her voice caused him to turn and look at her in surprise. "Figure to yourself, then: That devil he come here and he sneer at you, and he insult me—yes. Many times he insult me that I have to hold myself, so! that I do not kill him. I endure. He send me—-Dieu!that I should say it—he make dirt of me to walk on, to arrive at a man who is high, good, ah, a man!mon père, a man like you, one time when you have no fear. He send me. I say nothing. Many times he try, like a dog, to spring at his throat, but always, it is nothing but snap at his heels. Like a dog which he is. Then he come to me and say he is triumph. He get much money. And he tell me go with him. Me! me! he command like he is master and me slave. He steal money from M'sieu Peters and him and me, we go away together, like that, like man and his squaw. And I say nothing. Ah,mon père! it is too much—too much. If it be some other man—not M'sieu Peters—then I go. I save you,mon père, though it kill me. But—it is too much."She bowed her head, filled with self-reproach, with a knowledge that her father could never see this thing as she did. Jean stared at her, motionless; but his dumb amaze slowly lifted. He came to her and rested his hand lightly on her bowed head. "Ma Rose—ma belle Rose—when you have for a good man so big love as that, I would die, with gladness, to know so big happiness is come to you." And he went swiftly from the cabin.At the closing of the door she sprang to it and threw it wide again. "You will not go—now—to-night?" she called.The answer, low, determined, in the tones of the father of that other time, reassured her: "No. We stay. Maybe—who knows?—God is good."She went back and with steady hand lit the lamp and placed it on the table. The noble face was aglow with hopeful pride: he would face it at last, this thing that had embittered both their lives."Rose!"She started and turned in dismay toward the inner room. He was awake—how long?—and calling her."Rose!" the call came again, gentle but insistent. "Rose, I—I want you."She stood a moment longer, both hands pressed against her heart, her breath coming in great gasps and in her eyes the frightened look of a child. Then she caught up the lamp and with swift step went in and stood beside the bunk. "Is it then you rest ill, my friend?" she asked softly, and then bent to re-arrange the pillow. Buck's hand closed over hers."Rose," he whispered, "Rose—I heard."She slipped to her knees, hiding her face in the pillow, her figure shaking with great tremors and sobs breaking from her so that she could scarcely speak. "Oh, I am ashamed," she said brokenly, "I am ashamed.""Ashamed! And I——" he stopped, drawing in a deep breath at the wonder of it; then raising himself to rest on bent arm, he laid his cheek against her hair. "I 'm th' one as ought to be ashamed, Rose: a man o' my age, an' feelin' th' way I do—an' you a girl. But I 've got to have you, Rose. I just got to have you. An' if you don't say 'yes' I swear to God I 'll give up an' pull out o' this country. I don't want to stop another day if you say 'no.'"She drew away from him and raised her head to look at him doubtfully, appealingly, believingly. A wonderful smile broke through her tears and stilled the trembling of her lips. "You mean it, Buck. Oh! You do! You do!" Her arms were about him and she lowered him gently back again. "Rest you, and get well quickly, wounded man," she murmured. "My man—my man until I die—and after."FINIS*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOKBUCK PETERS, RANCHMAN***
CHAPTER XXVIII
THE HEART OF A ROSE
And the evening and the morning were the second day. At a time when, through the diffused and fading light of the sun-vacant sky, the silver-pale stars blinked one by one in their awakening; when the protesting twitter of disturbed birds seeking their rest sounded sweetly clear above the steady rumble of the marshland frogs; when the velvet-footed killers stretched and yawned and gazed with dilated pupils at the near approach of night; when the men who persuaded luck to their advantage, in various ways, began to gather about the tables in cow-town and mining-camp, and there was a lighting of lamps by the foresighted and a trimming of wicks by the procrastinators—the French Rose faced her father, Jean, and did battle for love and happiness, though she knew it not.
The easy-going Jean had known nothing of the manner in which their guest was wounded, nor by whom; and Rose had not thought it wise to tell him, even if it occurred to her in the stress of that first day. But Jean had heard many rumors in Twin River, many disquieting facts and equally disturbing inferences. He had hurried home beset with fears for the outcome, alarmed at the reckless step Rose had taken and vainly asking himself why. Immediately upon his entry he had set Pickles at a task which would occupy him away from the cabin. Standing moodily at the window he watched him go. Then he turned to his daughter for an explanation.
"Is Dave here yesterday?" he asked.
"Yes," replied Rose, non-committally.
Jean turned over in his mind this new fact and fitted it into the pattern. "For why you go so fast to Twin?" he questioned.
"No one is here but me. Fritz, he go to the Two Y's ranch."
"You tell him?"
"No. He hear Dave talk an' go to tell M'sieu Peters Dave have stole all his money."
"Diable! Steal?"
"Yes."
Jean knitted his brows in the effort to understand the reason for this; quite naturally he came back in a circle to his first inquiry and repeated it: "For why you go to Twin?"
"I go for men to catch Dave when he steal the money." This, while not strictly true, was the nearest to truth that Jean could understand.
The trend of his thoughts was shown by his next question. "Dave—he know?" he asked, and his anxiety was apparent.
"Yes," was the brief answer.
"Mon Dieu!" exclaimed Jean. He turned from her and stared with unseeing eyes over the land he had struggled hard to make his own. And now he must lose it. Rapidly calculating how long his slender resources would support him until Rose could dispose of his stock and follow, despair came upon him as he realized that the vengeance of Dave was not to be escaped. "For why," he asked, hoarsely, "for why you do this?"
"For why?" repeated Rose and the thrill in her voice caused him to turn and look at her in surprise. "Figure to yourself, then: That devil he come here and he sneer at you, and he insult me—yes. Many times he insult me that I have to hold myself, so! that I do not kill him. I endure. He send me—-Dieu!that I should say it—he make dirt of me to walk on, to arrive at a man who is high, good, ah, a man!mon père, a man like you, one time when you have no fear. He send me. I say nothing. Many times he try, like a dog, to spring at his throat, but always, it is nothing but snap at his heels. Like a dog which he is. Then he come to me and say he is triumph. He get much money. And he tell me go with him. Me! me! he command like he is master and me slave. He steal money from M'sieu Peters and him and me, we go away together, like that, like man and his squaw. And I say nothing. Ah,mon père! it is too much—too much. If it be some other man—not M'sieu Peters—then I go. I save you,mon père, though it kill me. But—it is too much."
She bowed her head, filled with self-reproach, with a knowledge that her father could never see this thing as she did. Jean stared at her, motionless; but his dumb amaze slowly lifted. He came to her and rested his hand lightly on her bowed head. "Ma Rose—ma belle Rose—when you have for a good man so big love as that, I would die, with gladness, to know so big happiness is come to you." And he went swiftly from the cabin.
At the closing of the door she sprang to it and threw it wide again. "You will not go—now—to-night?" she called.
The answer, low, determined, in the tones of the father of that other time, reassured her: "No. We stay. Maybe—who knows?—God is good."
She went back and with steady hand lit the lamp and placed it on the table. The noble face was aglow with hopeful pride: he would face it at last, this thing that had embittered both their lives.
"Rose!"
She started and turned in dismay toward the inner room. He was awake—how long?—and calling her.
"Rose!" the call came again, gentle but insistent. "Rose, I—I want you."
She stood a moment longer, both hands pressed against her heart, her breath coming in great gasps and in her eyes the frightened look of a child. Then she caught up the lamp and with swift step went in and stood beside the bunk. "Is it then you rest ill, my friend?" she asked softly, and then bent to re-arrange the pillow. Buck's hand closed over hers.
"Rose," he whispered, "Rose—I heard."
She slipped to her knees, hiding her face in the pillow, her figure shaking with great tremors and sobs breaking from her so that she could scarcely speak. "Oh, I am ashamed," she said brokenly, "I am ashamed."
"Ashamed! And I——" he stopped, drawing in a deep breath at the wonder of it; then raising himself to rest on bent arm, he laid his cheek against her hair. "I 'm th' one as ought to be ashamed, Rose: a man o' my age, an' feelin' th' way I do—an' you a girl. But I 've got to have you, Rose. I just got to have you. An' if you don't say 'yes' I swear to God I 'll give up an' pull out o' this country. I don't want to stop another day if you say 'no.'"
She drew away from him and raised her head to look at him doubtfully, appealingly, believingly. A wonderful smile broke through her tears and stilled the trembling of her lips. "You mean it, Buck. Oh! You do! You do!" Her arms were about him and she lowered him gently back again. "Rest you, and get well quickly, wounded man," she murmured. "My man—my man until I die—and after."
FINIS
*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOKBUCK PETERS, RANCHMAN***