“‘Woman–she don’t need no tooter,Be she skule ma’am or biscut shooter.”’
“‘Woman–she don’t need no tooter,Be she skule ma’am or biscut shooter.”’
he quoted.
“A woman seems to have an intuitive knowledge of man’s mental processes. At least she gauges him pretty well without letting him into the mystery of how she does it. A man can never tell where he will land.” Ace came very near striking the nail on the head when he wrote in the second couplet that:
‘She has most curyus ways about her,Which leads a man to kinda dout her.’
‘She has most curyus ways about her,Which leads a man to kinda dout her.’
“And then, knowing man so well, she absolutely refuses to let him know anything of her thoughts. Which again, Ace has noted in this manner:
‘Though lookin’ at her is sure a pleasure;There ain’t no way to get her measure.I reckon she had man on the runA long while before the world begun.’
‘Though lookin’ at her is sure a pleasure;There ain’t no way to get her measure.I reckon she had man on the runA long while before the world begun.’
“That seems to be the exact truth,” he laughed.
Norton grinned at him. “You single guys have certa’nly got a whole lot to learn,” he said, “for a fact. Of course if she’s any kind of a woman at all she’s got him runnin’. But which way?”
“Why, toward her, of course!” laughed Hollis.
Norton’s smile widened. “You’ve tumbled to that, then,” he observed dryly. “Then you’re ready for the next lesson.”
“And that?” questioned Hollis.
Norton smiled with ineffable pity. “Lordy!” he laughed; “you single guys don’t know a thing not a durned thing!”
After that they rode on in silence. When they came in sight of the Hazelton cabin Norton reined in his pony and sat motionless in the saddle, grinning at Hollis.
“You run along now,” he advised. “I’ll be hittin’ her off toward the Dry Bottom trail for the rest of the way–I sorta like that trail better anyway.”
He urged his pony off at a tangent and Hollis continued on his way. He found Nellie alone, her brother having gone out on the range. She came out on the porch, hearing his pony’s hoofs on the hard sand and rocks of the trail, and there was a sincere welcome in her eyes. It was thefirst time that he had visited the cabin since he had returned to the Circle Bar.
“Oh!” she said delightedly. And then, aware of the sudden light that had come into Hollis’s eyes at this evidence of interest, she blushed and looked down at the hem of her skirt, nervously pushing it out with the toe of her shoe.
During the days of Hollis’s convalescence at the Hazelton cabin he had seen the young woman in many moods. In none of them, however, had she seemed so attractive as now. Confusion became her, he decided, and he regarded her with a new interest as he sat on his pony, awaiting her invitation to dismount. It came presently.
“It is frightfully hot,” she said, moving over to where stood two chairs–one in which he had passed many hours during the days of his convalescence, the other in which she had sat quite often–near him. Not until now did he realize how full and satisfying those days had been. As he dismounted and tied his pony to one of the slender porch columns he smiled–thinking of Norton’s question during their discussion of Ace’s poem. “Of course”–the range boss had said–“if she’s any kind of a woman at all she’s got him runnin’. But which way?” Of course–literally–she did not have him running, buthe knew that some uncommon passion had gripped him and that he was unaccountably pleased.
His smile grew when he remembered her sudden indignation over his thoughtless statement that women had never interested him. Of course he would not tell her that he felt a serious interest inonewoman. When he dropped into his favorite chair, removing his hat and mopping the perspiration from his forehead with his handkerchief, he caught her looking swiftly at the scar under his right eye–which would always be a reminder of his experience on the night of the storm. She saw his brows contract in a frown.
“You have quite recovered,” she said; “except for that slight scar under the eye you are the same as before the meeting with Dunlavey’s men.”
He looked beyond her at the tawny mountains that rose in the distance,–miles on the other side of the big basin–swimming in the shimmering blur of white sky–somber guardians of a mysterious world. What secret did they guard? What did they know of this world of eternal sunlight, of infinite distance? Did they know as much of the world upon which they frowned as he knew of the heart of the slender, motherlygirl whose eyes betrayed her each time he looked into them?
A smile that lurked deep within him did not show in his face–it was unborn and it gripped him strangely, creating a sensation in his breast that he could not analyze, but which pleaded to be expressed. He could not express it–now. He feared to trust himself and so he fought it down, assuring himself that it was not yet time. But he knew that he was not the same as before his experience with Dunlavey on the night of the storm. Something had stolen into his heart and was enthroned there; something deeper than a mere scar–a girl who had mothered him in his extremity; who had hovered over him, attending to his bruises, binding his wounds, tenderly smoothing his brow during the days and nights of the fever; attending his wants during convalescence; erecting a citadel in his heart which would stand as a monument to his gratitude. No, not gratitude merely. The smile was born. He turned and looked at her, meeting her eyes fairly, and hers dropped in confusion.
“Do you think that I am the same as before?” he asked suddenly.
She stood up, radiant, pointing a finger toward the Coyote trail. “Ed is coming!” she declared.
Before he could say another word she was down off the porch and running toward her brother, holding his horse while he dismounted, kissing him, patting him lovingly as they came toward the porch.
The latter greeted Hollis warmly. “A fellow couldn’t help but feel good with a sister like that–now could he?” he inquired as he came upon the porch and took the chair which Nellie had vacated. She had disappeared into the cabin, not even looking at Hollis, but she could not have heard Hollis’s reply had she remained. For it was wordless. There are times when men understand perfectly without speech.
Hollis stayed for dinner. Nellie was radiantly silent during the meal, attending to the wants of the two men, listening while they discussed recent happenings in the county. Ed was much pleased to hear of the coming of Ben Allen.
“That guy is business–through and through,” he assured Hollis. “He was the best sheriff Colfax County ever had–and it’s had some good ones. Allen’s quiet, but there ain’t anyone going to herdride him. Some have tried it, but they found it didn’t pay and so they don’t try it any more.”
After dinner they went out on the porch for asmoke, leaving Nellie inside. They could hear her singing as she washed the dishes. Hazelton smiled as a particularly happy note reached his ears. “I don’t know what’s got into Sis,” he said, flashing a swift glance at Hollis. “I don’t know as I ever heard her sing that well before.”
Hollis made no reply and the conversation turned to the drought–as all conversations did during that period. Word had come to Hazelton of Dunlavey’s warning to the cattle owners. He had heard also of Hollis’s announced intention of taking sides with the small owners.
“Dunlavey’s ten days is up the day after tomorrow,” said Hazelton. “If Dunlavey starts anything what are you going to do?”
“That will depend on what Dunlavey starts,” smiled Hollis.
“H’m!” inexpressively grunted Hazelton. He flashed a glance at the face of the young man beside him, noting the firm mouth, the steady eyes, and the faint, grim smile. “H’m!” he said again. “I suppose you know who you’re going to give your water to?” he questioned.
Hollis nodded. “To men who refused to help my father when he needed help,” he returned.
Hazelton smiled oddly. “I’ve heard about that,” he said. He laughed. “It strikes me that I wouldn’t give such men any water,” he added.
Hollis turned and looked at him, meeting his gaze fairly, and holding it.
“Yes, you would, Hazelton,” he said, a broad smile on his face.
“How do you know that?” queried the latter, slightly defiant.
Hollis motioned toward the kitchen door. “I know,” he said; “you’re her brother.”
“Well,” began Hazelton hesitatingly,–“I—”
The screen door opened–slammed, and Nellie Hazelton came out upon the porch. She had found time to change her morning dress for a soft, fluffy creation of some sort, and she stood before them, flushing slightly as both looked at her, a picture that smote Hollis’s heart with a sudden longing. Only one glance did she give him and then she was over near Ed’s chair, leaning over him, stroking his hair.
For a long time Hollis sat, watching them with sympathetic, appreciative eyes. Then he thought of the letter in his pocket, the one postmarked “Chicago,” which he had discovered at theKickeroffice on returning from the courthouse. He drew it from his pocket and read the legend in the upper left hand corner:
“Dr. J. J. Hammond, — Hospital, Chicago, Ill.”
He studied the legend for some little time, his thoughts busy with the contents of the envelope. Fortunately, his letter to the great physician had fallen into the hands of the son, Tom Hammond, and the latter, not forgetting his old schoolmate, had appealed to his father. This was what the surgeon had written in the letter–he would not have agreed to accept the case had it not been for the fact that Hollis had been, and was Tom’s friend. He would be pleased if the patient would make the journey to Chicago within a month, that he might be able to take up his case before entering upon some scientific investigations which had been deferred a long time, etc.
Hollis had been reading the letter again. He finished it and looked up, to see Ed and Nellie watching him. He flushed and smiled, holding out the letter to Nellie.
“I beg your pardon,” he said. “I found this interesting. Perhaps you will also find it so.”
He leaned back with a smile and watched them. But he did not, watch long. He sawNellie start, saw the color slowly recede from her face, saw her hands clench tightly–as she began to read the letter. He turned away, not caring to watch them during that sacred moment in which they would read the line of hope that the great surgeon had written. He looked–it seemed–for a long time down the Coyote trail, and when he finally turned his head toward them he saw Ed Hazelton sitting erect in his chair, apparently stunned by the news. But before him, close to him, so close that he felt her breath in his face–her eyes wide with delight, thankfulness–and perhaps something more–Nellie was kneeling.
“Oh, thank you, Mr. Hollis!” she said earnestly, her lips all a-quiver; “Thank you, and God bless you!”
He tried to sit erect; tried to open his lips to tell her that he had done only what any man would have done under the circumstances. But he moved not, nor did he speak, for her arms had gone around his shoulders, and her lips were suddenly pressed firmly and quickly to his. Then he was released and she turned, crying:
“Come and thank him, Ed!”
But Ed had taken himself off–perhaps he did not care to allow anyone to witness his joy.
Some time during the evening Hollis took hisdeparture from the Hazelton cabin. Ed had come back, silently taking Hollis’s hand and gripping it earnestly. And before Hollis had departed Ed had taken himself into the house. Perhaps he divined that there were other’s joys beside his.
That night before retiring Nellie stole softly into her brother’s room and kissed him lightly on the forehead. That same night also Hollis rode up to the Circle Bar corral gate–singing. Norton and Potter were sitting on the gallery, waiting for him. While Hollis was removing the saddle from his pony Norton rose from his chair and smiled at Potter.
“Well,” he said to the latter, “I’m goin’ to bed.” He moved a few steps toward the door and then turned and looked back at Potter, who had also risen. He laughed.
“Listen, Potter,” he said. Then he quoted:
“Woman–she don’t need no tooterBe she skule ma’am or biscuit shooter.”
“Woman–she don’t need no tooterBe she skule ma’am or biscuit shooter.”
He hesitated and looked again at Potter. “Why,” said the latter, puzzled, “that’s from Ace’s poem!”
“Sure,” laughed Norton; “that’s just what it is!”
The following day Hollis rode to town over the Dry Bottom trail. Had he followed a perfectly natural inclination he would have taken the Coyote, for it would have brought him to the Hazelton cabin. But he succeeded in forcing himself to go the other way, arguing that Nellie and her brother might wish to be alone to consider the great good fortune that had come upon them.
And so they did, though had Hollis appeared to them this morning as they sat upon the porch he would have been assured of a royal welcome. Indeed, during the early morning hours Nellie had cast many furtive, expectant glances down the Coyote trail. When eight o’clock came and Hollis did not appear she gave him up.
The dawn found her kneeling beside her brother’s bed.
“Ed!” she said, leaning over him, wakinghim, her eyes alight with joy; “Ed, he says you can be cured!”
He struggled and sat up, rubbing his eyes.
“Gosh, sis!” he said in an awed voice. “Then it’s true! I was afraid I’d been dreaming!”
“It is no dream,” she returned ecstatically; “it is reality–beautiful reality! Wasn’t it simplygreatof him to take such an interest in us?”
“Us?” grinned Ed, noting her crimson, happy face. “Well, mebbe he did it forus,” he added subtly, “but I take it I’ve got a right to have another opinion on that.”
She fled from him without answering and a little later he heard her singing as she prepared breakfast. After the meal Ed made a short trip out into the basin to look after his cattle and then returned to the cabin. Sitting on the porch he and Nellie devoted several hours to a grave discussion of the situation. They discovered that it had a serious side.
In the first place there was the dangerous nature of the operation. Here Ed laughed away his sister’s fears by assuring her that he had an excellent constitution and that since the fall from the pony had not killed him he was in no danger from the knife. If Nellie entertained any doubt of this she wisely remained silent,though Ed could see that she was not entirely reassured. He swept away her last objection to this forbidding feature when he told her that he preferred taking the risk to living in constant dread of a recurrence of an acute attack of his malady–such as he had experienced when he had attacked Hollis in Devil’s Hollow.
There were many other things to be discussed–chiefly the care of the cattle and the cabin during his absence in Chicago. He would not listen to her suggestion to accompany him–he would prefer to have her remain at the cabin. Or he would try to arrange with Hollis for her to stay at the Circle Bar. There she would have Mrs. Norton for a companion, and she might ride each day to the cabin. He was certain that Hollis would arrange to have his men care for the cattle. He assured her that he would settle that question with Hollis when the latter passed the cabin that night on his return to the Circle Bar. Of course Hollis would take the Coyote trail to-night, he insinuated, grinning hugely at the blushes that reached her face.
But Hollis did not pass the cabin that night. He had taken the Dry Bottom trail on his return to the Circle Bar.
He had accomplished very little that day on account of the heat–and a certain vision thathad troubled him–taking his mind off his work and projecting it to a little cabin in a small basin, to a porch where sat a girl–the girl of his vision. She had voluntarily kissed him. Had it been all on account of gratitude? Of course–though–Well, memory of the kiss still lingered and he was willing to forgive her the slight lapse of modesty because he had been the recipient.
There had been one interesting development in Dry Bottom during the day. All day the town had swarmed with ranch owners who had come in to the court house to list their cattle for taxation and register their brands. Shortly after noon Ben Allen had dropped into theKickeroffice with the news that every owner in the county with the exception of Dunlavey had responded to the law’s demands.
To Hollis’s inquiry regarding the course he would pursue in forcing Dunlavey to comply with the law, Allen remarked with a smile that there was “plenty of time.” He had had much experience with men of the Dunlavey type.
Potter and Hollis exchanged few words during the ride to the Circle Bar. The heat–the eternal, scorching, blighting heat–still continued; the dust had become an almost unbearable irritation. During the trip to the ranchthe two men came upon an arroyo over which Hollis had passed many times. At a water hole where he had often watered his horse they came upon several dead steers stretched prone in the green slime. The water had disappeared; the spring that had provided it had dried and there was nothing to tell of it except a small stretch of damp earth, baking in the sun. The steers were gaunt, lanky creatures, their hides stretched tight as drum-heads over their ribs, their tongues lolling out, black and swollen, telling mutely of their long search for water and their suffering. Coyotes had been at work on them; here lay a heap of bare bones; there a skull glistened in the white sunlight.
A few miles farther on they came upon one of the punchers from the Circle Y with a calf thrown over the saddle in front of him. He was driving several gaunt, drooping cattle toward the Rabbit-Ear. The calf bellowed piteously at sight of Hollis and Potter. The puncher hailed them.
“You’re Hollis, of the Circle Bar, ain’t you?” he said when the latter had spurred his pony close to him. At Hollis’s nod he grinned ironically. “Hot!” he said, coming quickly to the universal topic of conversation; “I reckon this wouldn’t be called hot in some places–in hell, for instance.Say,” he said as he saw Hollis’s lips straighten, “to-morrow the ten days is up. Mebbe it’ll be hotter then. The damned skunk!”
Of course he referred to Dunlavey–the latter’s threat to drive all foreign cattle from the Rabbit-Ear had been carried far and wide by riders–the whole country knew of it. There had been much condemnation and some speculation, but there was nothing to be done until after the tenth day. Even then much depended upon Hollis’s attitude. Would he make war upon Dunlavey in defense of the men who had refused aid to his father in time of need?
Hollis was still of the opinion that Dunlavey would not attempt to carry out his threat. He smiled at the malevolent expression in the puncher’s eyes.
“Somehow,” he said quietly, “I have always been able to distinguish between empty boast and determination. Dunlavey has done some foolish things, no doubt, and is doing a foolish thing in defying the law, but I don’t anticipate that he will do anything quite so rash as to further antagonize the small owners.”
The puncher sat erect and laughed harshly. “You don’t?” he inquired in an over-gentle, polite voice. “Mister Hollis,” he added, as thelatter looked quickly at him, “you ain’t heard nothin’ from the Circle Bar to-day, I reckon?”
Hollis’s answer was negative. The Circle Y man’s face grew suddenly serious. “You ain’t! Well, then, that’s the reason you’re talkin’ so. The last I heard from the Circle Bar was that Norton an’ some of your men had captured one of Dunlavey’s men–Greasy–rebrandin’ some Circle Bar steers an’ was gettin’ ready to string him up. I reckon mebbe you’d call that doin’ somethin’!”
Hollis straightened. He had suddenly forgotten the heat, the dust, and the problem of water.
“How long ago did you hear this?” he demanded sharply.
“’Bout an hour ago,” returned the Circle Y man. “I was rustlin’ up these strays down in the basin an’ headin’ them toward the crick when I runs plum into a man from the Three Bar outfit. He was plum excited over it. Said they’d ketched Greasy down by the Narrows sometime after noon an’—”
But the Circle Y man finished to the empty air for Hollis’s pony had leaped forward into a cloud of dust, running desperately.
The Circle Y man sat erect, startled. “Well, I’ll be—” he began, speaking to Potter. Butthe printer was following his chief and was already out of hearing. “Now what do you suppose—” again began the Circle Y man, and then fell silent, suddenly smitten with the uselessness of speech. He yelled at his gaunt steers and shifted the calf in front of him to a more comfortable position. Then he proceeded on his way. But as he rode his lips curled, his eyes narrowed, and speech again returned to him. “Now why in hell would a man get so damned excited over hearin’ that someone was goin’ to string up a measly rustler?”
The interrogation remained unanswered. The Circle Y man continued on his way, watching the fast disappearing dust clouds on the Circle Bar trail.
When Hollis reached the Circle Bar ranchhouse there was no one about. He rode up to the front gallery and dismounted, thinking that perhaps Norton would be in the house. But before he had crossed the gallery Mrs. Norton came to the door. She was pale and laboring under great excitement, but instantly divined Hollis’s errand.
“They’ve taken him down to the cottonwood” she told Hollis, pointing toward the grove in which Hollis had tried the six-shooter that Norton had given him the first day after hisarrival at the ranch. “They are going to hang him! Hurry!”
Hollis was back in the saddle in an instant and racing his pony down past the bunk house at break-neck speed. He urged the little animal across an intervening stretch of plain, up a slight rise, down into a shallow valley, and into the cottonwood, riding recklessly through the trees and urging the pony at a headlong pace through the underbrush–crashing it down, scaring the rattlers from their concealment, and startling the birds from their lofty retreats.
For ten minutes he rode as he had never ridden before. And then he came upon them. They stood at the base of a fir-balsam, whose gnarled limbs spread flatly outward–three Circle Bar men, a half dozen from the various outfits whose herds grazed his range, and the rustler–Greasy–a rope knotted about his neck, standing directly under one of the out-spreading limbs of the tree, his head bowed, but his face wearing a mocking, defiant grin. The rope had been thrown over the limb and several men were holding it, preparatory to drawing it taut. Norton was standing near, his face pale, his lips straight and grim with determination. Apparently Hollis had arrived just in time.
None of the men moved from their placeswhen Hollis dismounted, but all looked at him as though expecting him to express approval of what they were about to do. Several lowered their gaze with embarrassment when they saw that he did not approve.
“What is all this about, Norton?” he asked, speaking to the latter, who had stepped forward and now stood beside Greasy. Whatever excitement had resulted from the sudden discovery that his men had captured a rustler and were about to hang him, together with the strain of his hard ride to the cottonwood, had disappeared, and Hollis’s voice was quiet as he addressed his range boss.
Norton smiled grimly. “We were roundin’ up a few strays just the other side of the Narrows this morning, and Ace and Weary were workin’ down the river. In that little stretch of gully just the other side of the Narrows they came upon this sneak brandin’ two of our beeves through a piece of wet blanket. He’d already done it an’ so we ketched him with the goods. It’s the first time we’ve ever been able to lay a hand on one of Dunlavey’s pluguglies, an’ we was figgerin’ on makin’ an example of him.”
Hollis met Norton’s grim gaze and smiled. “I want to thank you–all of you, for guarding my interests so zealously,” he said. “There isno doubt that this man richly deserves hanging–that is, of course, according to your code of ethics. I understand that is the way things have been done heretofore. But I take it none of you want to make me appear ridiculous?”
“Sure not,” came several voices in chorus.
Hollis laughed. “But you took the surest way of making me appear so,” he returned.
He saw Norton’s face flush and he knew that the latter had already grasped the significance of his words. But the others, simpler of mind, reasoning by no involved process, looked at him, plainly puzzled. He would have to explain more fully to them. He did so. When he had shown them that in hanging the rustler he would be violating the principle that he had elected to defend, they stood before him abashed, thoroughly disarmed. All except Ace. The poet’s mind was still active.
“I reckon you might say you didn’t know nothin’ about us hangin’ him?” he suggested.
“So I might,” returned Hollis. “But people would not think so. And there is my conscience. It wouldn’t be such a weight upon it–the hanging of this man; I believe I would enjoy standing here and watching him stretch your rope. But I would not be able to reconcile the action with the principle for which I am fighting. I believenone of you men would trust me very much if I advocated the law one day and broke it the next. The application of this principle would be much the same as if I stole a horse to-day and to-morrow had you arrested for stealing one.”
“That’s so,” they chorused, and fell silent, regarding him with a new interest.
“But what are you goin’ to do with the cuss?” queried one man.
“We have a sheriff in Dry Bottom, I expect?” questioned Hollis.
Grins appeared on the faces of several of the men; the prisoner’s face lighted.
“Oh, yes,” said one; “I reckon Bill Watkins is the sheriff all right.”
“Then we’ll take him to Bill Watkins,” decided Hollis.
The grins on the faces of several of the men grew. Norton laughed.
“I reckon you ain’t got acquainted with Bill yet, Hollis,” he said. “Bill owes his place to Dunlavey. There has never been a rustler convicted by Watkins yet. I reckon there won’t ever be any convicted–unless he’s been caught stealin’ Dunlavey’s cattle. Bill’s justice is a joke.”
Hollis smiled grimly. He had learned that much from Judge Graney. He did not expectto secure justice, but he wished to have something tangible upon which to work to force the law into the country. His duty in the matter consisted only in delivering the prisoner into the custody of the authorities, which in this case was the sheriff. The sheriff would be held responsible for him. He said this much to the men. There was no other lawful way.
He was not surprised that they agreed with him. They had had much experience in dealing with Dunlavey; they had never been successful with the old methods of warfare and they were quite willing to trust to Hollis’s judgment.
“I reckon you’re just about right,” said one who had spoken before. “Stringin’ this guy up would finish him all right. But that wouldn’t settle the thing. What’s needed is to get it fixed up for good an’ all.”
“Correct!” agreed Hollis; “you’ve got it exactly. We might hang a dozen men for stealing cattle and we could go on hanging them. We’ve got no right to hang anyone–we’ve got a law for that purpose. Then let us make the law act!”
The prisoner had stood in his place, watching the men around him, his face betraying varying emotions. When it had been finally agreed to take him to Dry Bottom and deliver him over tothe sheriff he grinned broadly. But he said nothing as they took the rope from around his neck, forced him to mount a horse and surrounding him, rode out of the cottonwood toward the Circle Bar ranchhouse.
Dusk had fallen by the time Greasy had been brought to the bunkhouse, and Mrs. Norton had lighted the kerosene lamps when Norton and Hollis, assured of the safety of the prisoner, left the bunkhouse and went into the house for supper. Potter had washed the dust of travel from him and when Norton and Hollis arrived he was seated on the porch, awaiting them. Mrs. Norton greeted them with a smile. Her eyes expressed gratitude as they met Hollis’s.
“I am so glad you were in time,” she said. “I told Neil not to do it, but he was determined and wouldn’t listen to me.”
“You might have tried ‘bossing’ him,” suggested Hollis, remembering his range boss’s words on the occasion of his first meeting with Norton’s wife. He looked straight at Norton, his eyes narrowing quizzically. “You know you told me once that—”
“Mebbe I was stretchin’ things a little whenI told you that,” interrupted Norton, grinning shamelessly. “If a man told the truth all the time he’d have a hard time keepin’ ahead of a woman.”
“‘Woman–she don’t need no tooter,’” quoted Hollis. “It has taken you a long time to discover what Ace has apparently known for years. And Ace is only a bachelor.”
Norton’s eyes lighted. “You’re gettin’ back at me for what I said to you the day before yesterday–when you stopped off at Hazelton’s,” he declared. “All the same you’ll know more about women when you’ve had more experience with them. When I told you that I’d been ‘bossed,’ I didn’t mean that I’d been bossed regular. No woman that knows just how much she can run a man ever lets him know that she’s bossin’ him. Mebbe she’ll act like she’s lettin’ him have his own way. But she’s bossin’ him just the same. He sort of likes it, I reckon. At least it’s only when a man gets real mad that he does a little bossin’ on his own account. And then, like as not, he’ll find that he’s made a big mistake. Like I did to-day about hangin’ Greasy, for instance.”
Hollis bowed gravely to Mrs. Norton. “I think he ought to be forgiven, Mrs. Norton,” he said. “Day before yesterday he presumed tolecture me on the superiority of the married male over the unmarried one. And now he humbly admits to being bossed. What then becomes of his much talked of superiority? Shall I–free and unbossed–admit inferiority?”
Mrs. Norton smiled wisely as she moved around the table, arranging the dishes. “I couldn’t decide that,” she said, “until it is explained to me why so many men are apparently so eager to engage a boss.”
“I reckon that settles that argument!” gloated Norton.
Had this conversation taken place two months before Hollis might have answered, Why, indeed, were men so eager to engage a boss? Two months before he might have answered cynically, remembering the unhappiness of his parents. That he did not answer now showed that he was no longer cynical; that he had experienced a change of heart.
Of course Mrs. Norton knew this–Norton must have told her. He could appreciate the subtle mockery that had suggested the question, but he did not purpose to allow Norton to sit there and enjoy the confusion that was sure to overtake him did he attempt to continue the argument with Mrs. Norton. He was quite certain that Norton anticipated such an outcome.
“Perhaps Norton can answer that?” he suggested mildly.
“I ain’t no good at guessin’ riddles,” jeered Norton. “But I reckon you know–if you wanted to tell.”
But Hollis did not tell, and the conversation shifted to other subjects. After supper they went out upon the porch. A slight breeze had sprung up with the dusk, though the sky was still cloudless. At ten o’clock, when they retired, the breeze had increased in velocity, sighing mournfully through the trees in the vicinity of the ranchhouse, though there was no perceptible change in the atmosphere–it seemed that the wind was merely shifting the heat waves from one point to another.
“A good, decent rain would save lots of trouble to-morrow,” said Norton as he and Hollis stood on the porch, taking a last look at the sky before going to bed.
“Do you really think Dunlavey will carry out his threat?” questioned Hollis. “Somehow I can’t help but think that he was bluffing when he said it.”
“He don’t do much bluffin’,” declared Norton. “At least he ain’t done much up to now.”
“But there is plenty of water in the Rabbit-Ear,”returned Hollis; “plenty for all the cattle that are here now.”
Norton flashed a swift glance at him. “That’s because you don’t know this country,” he said. “Four years ago we had a dry spell. Not so bad as this, but bad enough. The Rabbit-Ear held up good enough for two months. Then she went dry sudden. There wasn’t water enough in her to fill a thimble. I reckon you ain’t been watchin’ her for the last day or so?”
Hollis admitted that he had not seen the river within that time. Norton laughed shortly.
“She’s dry in spots now,” he informed Hollis. “There ain’t any water at all in the shallows. It’s tricklin’ through in some places, but mostly there’s nothin’ but water holes an’ dried, baked mud. In two days more, if it don’t rain, there won’t be water enough for our own stock. Then what?”
“There will be water for every steer on the range as long as it lasts,” declared Hollis grimly. “After that we’ll all take our medicine together.”
“Good!” declared Norton. “That’s what I expected of you. But I don’t think it’s goin’ to work out that way. Weary was ridin’ the Razor Back this mornin’ and he says he saw Dunlavey an’ Yuma and some more Circle Cross guysnosin’ around behind some brush on the other side of the creek. They all had rifles.”
Hollis’s face paled slightly. “Where are the other men–Train and the rest?” he inquired.
“Down on Razor Back,” Norton informed him; “they sneaked down there after Weary told me about seein’ Dunlavey on the other side. Likely they’re scattered by now–keepin’ an eye out for trouble.”
“Well,” decided Hollis, “there isn’t any use of looking for it. It finds all of us soon enough. To-morrow is the tenth day and I am sure that if Dunlavey carries out his threat he won’t start anything until to-morrow. Therefore I am going to bed.” He laughed. “Call me if you hear any shooting. I may want to take a hand in it.”
They parted–Hollis going to his room and Norton stepping down off the porch to take a turn down around the pasture to look after the horses.
Hollis was tired after his experiences of the day and soon dropped off to sleep. It seemed that he had been asleep only a few minutes, however, when he felt a hand shaking him, and a voice–Norton’s voice.
“Hollis!” said the range boss. “Hollis! Wake up!”
Hollis sat erect, startled into perfect wakefulness. He could not see Norton’s face in the dark, but he swung around and sat on the edge of the bed.
“What’s up?” he demanded. “Have they started?”
He heard Norton laugh, and there was satisfaction in the laugh. “Started?” he repeated. “Well, I reckon something’s started. Listen!”
Hollis listened. A soft patter on the roof, a gentle sighing of the wind, and a distant, low rumble reached his ears. He started up. “Why, it’s raining!” he said.
Norton chuckled. “Rainin’!” he chirped joyously. “Well, I reckon it might be called that by someone who didn’t know what rain is. But I’m tellin’ you that it ain’t rainin’–it’s pourin’! It’s a cloud-burst, that’s what it is!”
Hollis did not answer. He ran to the window and stuck his head out. The rain came against his head and shoulders in stinging, vicious slants. There was little lightning, and what there was seemed distant, as though the storm covered a vast area. He could dimly see the pasture–the horses huddled in a corner under the shelter that had been erected for them; he could see the tops of the trees in the cottonwood grove–bending, twisting, leaning from the wind; the bunkhousedoor was open, a stream of light illuminating a space in which stood several of the cowboys. Some were attired as usual, others but scantily, but all were outside in the rain, singing, shouting, and pounding one another in an excess of joy. For half an hour Hollis stood at the window, watching them, looking out at the storm. There was no break anywhere in the sky from horizon to horizon. Plainly there was to be plenty of rain. Convinced of this he drew a deep breath of satisfaction, humor moving him.
“I do hope Dunlavey and his men don’t get wet.” he said. He went to his trousers and drew forth his watch. He could not see the face of it and so he carried it to the window. The hands pointed to fifteen minutes after one. “It’s the tenth day,” he smiled. “Dunlavey might have saved himself considerable trouble in the future if he had placed a little trust in Providence–and not antagonized the small owners. I don’t think Providence has been looking out for my interests, but I wonder who will stand the better in the estimation of the people of this county–Dunlavey or me?”
He smiled again, sighed with satisfaction, and rolled into bed. For a long time he lay, listening to the patter of the rain on the roof, and then dropped off to sleep.
When Hollis got out of bed at six o’clock that same morning he heard surprising sounds outside. Slipping on his clothes he went to the window and looked out. Men were yelling at one another, screeching delightful oaths, capering about hatless, coatless, in the rain that still came steadily down. The corral yard was a mire of sticky mud in which the horses reared and plunged in evident appreciation of the welcome change from dry heat to lifegiving moisture. Riderless horses stood about, no one caring about the saddles, several calves capered awkwardly in the pasture. Norton’s dog–about which he had joked to Hollis during the latter’s first ride to the Circle Bar–was yelping joyously and running madly from one man to another.
Norton himself stood down by the door of the bunkhouse, grinning with delight. Near him stood Lemuel Train, and several of the othersmall ranchers whose stock had grazed for more than two weeks on the Circle Bar range without objection from Hollis. They saw him and motioned for him to come down, directing original oaths at him for sleeping so late on so “fine a morning.”
He dressed hastily and went down. They all ate breakfast in the mess house, the cook being adjured to “spread it on for all he was worth”–which he did. Certainly no one left the mess house hungry. During the meal Lemuel Train made a speech on behalf of himself and the other owners who had enjoyed Hollis’s hospitality, assuring him that they were “with him” from now on. Then they departed, each going his separate way to round up his cattle and drive them back to the home ranch.
The rain continued throughout the day and far into the night. The dried, gasping country absorbed water until it was sated and then began to shed it off into the arroyos, the gullies, the depressions, and the river beds. Every hollow overflowed with it; it seemed there could never be another drought.
Before dawn on the following day all the small ranchers had departed. Several of them, on their way to their home ranches, stopped off at the Circle Bar to shake hands with Hollis andassure him of their appreciation. Lemuel Train did not forget to curse Dunlavey.
“We ain’t likely to forget how he stood on the water proposition,” he said.
After Train had departed Norton stood looking after him. Then he turned and looked at Hollis, his eyes narrowing quizzically. “You’ve got in right with that crowd,” he said. “Durned if I don’t believe you knowed all the time that it was goin’ to rain before Dunlavey’s tenth day was over!”
Hollis smiled oddly. “Perhaps,” he returned; “there is no law, moral or otherwise, to prevent a man from looking a little ahead.”
After breakfast Hollis gave orders to have Greasy prepared for travel, and an hour later he and the range boss, both armed with rifles, rode out of the corral yard with Greasy riding between them and took the Dry Bottom trail.
The earth had already dried; the trail was hard, level, and dustless, and traveling was a pleasure. But neither of the three spoke a word to one another during the entire trip to Dry Bottom. Greasy bestrode his horse loosely, carelessly defiant; Norton kept a watchful eye on him, and Hollis rode steadily, his gaze fixed thoughtfully on the trail.
At ten o’clock they rode into Dry Bottom.There were not many persons about, but those who were gave instant evidence of interest in the three by watching them closely as they rode down the street to the sheriff’s office, dismounted, and disappeared inside.
The sheriff’s office was in a little frame shanty not over sixteen feet square, crude and unfinished. There were a front and back door, two windows–one in the side facing the court house, the other in the front. For furniture there were a bench, two chairs, some shelves, a cast iron stove, a wooden box partly filled with saw-dust which was used as a cuspidor, and a rough wooden table which served as a desk. In a chair beside the desk sat a tall, lean-faced man, with a nose that suggested an eagle’s beak, with its high, thin, arched bridge, little, narrowed, shifting eyes, and a hard mouth whose lips were partly concealed under a drooping, tobacco-stained mustache. He turned as the three men entered, leaning back in his chair, his legs a-sprawl, motioning them to the chairs and the bench. They filed in silently. Greasy dropped carelessly into one of the chairs, Norton took another near him, but Hollis remained standing.
“You are the sheriff, I suppose?” inquired the latter.
The official spat copiously into the wooden boxwithout removing his gaze from the three visitors.
“Yep,” he returned shortly, his voice coming with a truculent snap. “You wantin’ the sheriff?”
Hollis saw a swift, significant glance pass between him and Greasy and he smiled slightly.
“Yes,” he returned quietly; “we want you. We are delivering this man into your custody.”
“What’s he done?” demanded the sheriff.
“I charge him with stealing two of my steers,” returned Hollis. “Several of my men discovered him at work the day before yesterday and—”
“Hold on a minute now!” interrupted the sheriff. “Let’s git this thing goin’ accordin’ to the law.” He spat again into the wooden box, cocked his head sideways and surveyed Hollis with a glance in which there was much insolence and contempt. “Who might you be?” he questioned.
“My name is Hollis,” returned the latter quietly, his eyes meeting the other’s steadily. “I own the Circle Bar.”
“H’m!” The sheriff crossed his legs and stuck his thumbs into the arm-holes of his vest, revealing a nickle-plated star on the lapel of the latter. “H’m. Your name’s Hollis, an’ youown the Circle Bar. Seems I’ve heard of you.” He squinted his eyes at Hollis. “You’re Jim Hollis’s boy, ain’t you?” His eyes flashed with a sudden, contemptuous light. “Tenderfoot, ain’t you? Come out here to try an’ show folks how to run things?”
Hollis’s face slowly paled. He saw Greasy grinning. “I suppose it makes little difference to you what I am or what I came out here for,” he said quietly; “though, if I were to be required to give an opinion I should say that there is room for improvement in this county in the matter of applying its laws.”
The sheriff laughed harshly. “You’ll know more about this country after you’ve been here a while,” he sneered.
“Mebbe he’ll know more about how to run a law shebang, too,” dryly observed Norton, “after he’s watched Bill Watkins run her a little.”
“I don’t reckon anyone ast you to stick your gab in this here affair?” demanded the sheriff of Norton.
“No,” returned Norton, drawling, “no one asked me. But while we’re handin’ out compliments we might as well all have a hand in it. It strikes me that when a man’s runnin’ a law shop he ought to run her.”
“I reckon I’ll run her without any help from you, Norton!” snapped the sheriff.
“Why, sure!” agreed the latter, his gaze level as his eyes met the sheriff’s, his voice even and sarcastic. “But I’m tellin’ you that this man’s my friend an’ if there’s any more of them compliments goin’ to be handed around I’m warnin’ you that you want to hand them out soft an’ gentle like. That’s all. I reckon we c’n now proceed.”
The sheriff’s face bloated poisonously. He flashed a malignant glance at Hollis. “Well,” he snapped, “what’s the charge?”
“I have already told you,” returned Hollis. “It is stealing cattle.”
“How stealin’ them?” demanded the Sheriff truculenty.
“Changing the brand,” Hollis informed him. He related how Ace and Weary had come upon the prisoner while the latter was engaged in changing his brand to the Circle Cross.
“They see him brandin’?” questioned the sheriff when Hollis had concluded.
Hollis told him that the two men had come upon Greasy after the brand had been applied, but that the cattle bore the Circle Bar ear-mark, and that Greasy had built a fire and that branding irons had been found in his possession–whichwhich he had tried to hide when discovered by the Circle Bar men.
“Then your men didn’t really see him doin’ the brandin’?” questioned Watkins.
Hollis was forced to admit that they had not. Watkins smiled sarcastically.
“I reckon you’re runnin’ a little bit wild,” he remarked. “Some of your stock has been rebranded an’ you’re chargin’ a certain man with doin’ it–only you didn’t see him doin’ it.” He turned to Greasy. “What you got to say about this, Greasy?” he demanded.
Greasy grinned blandly at Hollis. “This guy’s talkin’ through his hat,” he sneered. “I ain’t allowin’ that I branded any of his cattle.”
Watkins smiled. “There don’t seem to be nothin’ to this case a-tall–not a-tall. There ain’t nobody goin’ to be took into custody by me for stealin’ cattle unless they’re ketched with the goods–an’ that ain’t been proved so far.” He turned to Hollis. “You got anything more to say about it?” he demanded.
“Only this,” returned Hollis slowly and evenly, “I have brought this man here. I charge him with stealing my cattle. To use your term–he was caught ‘with the goods.’ He is guilty. If you take him into custody and bring him to trial I shall have two witnesses there toprove what I have already told you. If you do not take him into custody, it is perfectly plain that you are deliberately shielding him–that you are making a joke of the law.”
Watkins’s face reddened angrily. “Mebbe I’m makin’ a joke of it—” he began.
“Of course we can’t force you to arrest this man,” resumed Hollis, interrupting Watkins. “Unfortunately the government has not yet awakened to the fact that such men as you are a public menace and danger. I did not expect you to arrest him–I tell you that frankly. I merely brought him here to see whether it were true that you were leagued with Dunlavey against the other ranchers in the country. You are, of course. Therefore, as we cannot secure justice by appealing to you we will be forced to adopt other means.”
The sheriff’s right hand dropped to his gun-holster. He sneered, his lips writhing. “Mebbe you mean—” he began.
“I ain’t lettin’ this here situation get beyond my control,” came Norton’s voice, cold and even, as his six-shooter came out and was shoved menacingly forward. “Whatever he means, Watkins, he’s my friend an’ you ain’t runnin’ in no cold lead proposition on him.” He smiled mirthlessly.
Watkins’s face paled; his right hand fell away from the pistol holster. There was a sound at the door; it swung suddenly open and Dunlavey’s gigantic frame loomed massively in the opening.
“I’m looking for Greasy!” he announced in a soft, silky voice, looking around at the four men with a comprehending, appreciative smile. “I was expecting to find him here,” he added as his gaze sought out the prisoner, “after I heard that he’d been nabbed by the Circle Bar men.”
Norton smiled coldly. “He’s here, Bill,” he said evenly. “He’s stayin’ here till Mr. Hollis says it’s time for him to go.”
He did not move the weapon in his hand, but a certain glint in his eyes told Dunlavey that the pistol was not in his hand for mere show. The latter smiled knowingly.
“I’m not interfering with the law,” he said mockingly. “And I certainly ain’t bucking your game, Norton.” He turned to Watkins, speaking with broad insinuation: “Of course you are putting a charge against Greasy, Watkins?” he said.
They all caught the sheriff’s flush; all saw the guilty embarrassment in his eyes as he answered that he had not. Dunlavey turned to Hollis with a bland smile.
“Have you any objection to allowing Greasy to go now, Mr. Hollis?”
Hollis’s smile was no less bland as his gaze met Dunlavey’s. “Not the slightest objection, Mr. Dunlavey,” he returned. “I congratulate you upon the manner in which you have trained your servants!” He ignored Dunlavey and smiled at Norton. “Mr. Norton,” he said with polite mockery, “I feel certain that you agree with me that we have no wish to contaminate this temple of justice with our presence.”
He bowed with mock politeness as he strode to the door and stepped down into the street. Norton followed him, grinning, though he did not sheath his weapon until he also was in the street.
As they strode away from the door they turned to see Dunlavey looking out after them, his face wreathed in a broad smile.
“There is plenty of law in Union County, Mr. Hollis,” he said, “if you know how to handle it!”
The next issue of theKickercontained many things of interest to its readers. Now that the drought had been broken, Union County could proceed with its business of raising cattle without fear of any future lack of water, with plenty of grass, and no losses except those from the usual causes. Dry Bottom merchants–depending upon the cattlemen for their trade–breathed easier and predicted a good year in spite of the drought. Their worries over, they had plenty of time–and inclination–to discuss theKicker.
More advertisements were appearing in the paper. Dry Bottom merchants were beginning to realize that it deserved their support, and with few exceptions they openly began to voice their opinions that the editor would “make good.”’ The advertisements began to take on a livelier tone and the LazetteEaglegrew more sarcastic.
When theKickerappeared following the incidentin the sheriff’s office, there was a detailed account of Dunlavey’s now famous “ten day edict,” together with some uncomplimentary comments upon the latter’s action. This was signed by Hollis. He called attention to Dunlavey’s selfishness, to the preparations that had been made by him to shoot down all the foreign cattle on the Rabbit-Ear. He made no reference to his part in the affair–to his decision to allow the small ranchers to water their cattle in the river at the imminent risk of losing his own. But though he did not mention this, the small owners and his friends took care that the matter received full publicity, with the result that Hollis was kept busy assuring his admirers that the incident had been much magnified–especially his part of it. Then his friends applauded his modesty.
In the same issue of the paper was also related the story of Greasy’s capture by the Circle Bar men. But in telling this story Hollis was not so modest, for he spoke frankly of his part in it–how he had refused to allow his men to hang the thief, telling his readers that though Greasy deserved hanging, he did not purpose to violate the law while advocating it. Following the story of the capture was a detailed report of the incident in the sheriff’s office and a scathing commentaryupon the subservience of the latter official to Dunlavey’s will. The article was entitled: “Handling the Law,” and Dunlavey’s exact words when he stood in the door of the sheriff’s office as Hollis and Norton departed were repeated.
Below this, under the rubric, “Union County Needs a New Sheriff,” appeared an article that created a sensation. This dwelt upon the necessity of the county having a sheriff who would not permit his office to be prostituted by any man or influence. TheKickernamed a man who would not be bribed or cowed and declared that his name would appear on the ballot at the next election–to be held on the first Monday in November. At the end of the article he printed the man’s name–Ben Allen!
He had made this announcement without authority, and therefore he was not surprised, soon after the appearance of the issue containing the article, to see Allen’s tall figure darken the door of theKickeroffice while he sat at his desk.
“Durn your hide!” cried the latter as he stood in the doorway; “you’re the biggest disturber in seven states!”
“Perhaps,” smiled Hollis, motioning Allen to a chair. “Still, you don’t need to thank me. You see, I have decided to clean up this countyand I need some help. I supposed you were interested. Of course you may refuse if you like.”
“Refuse!” Allen’s eyes flashed as he took Hollis’s hand and wrung it heartily. “My boy,” he declared earnestly, “you couldn’t have done anything to suit me better. I’m just yearning to take a big hand in this game!”
“Interesting, isn’t it?” smiled Hollis.
“Some,” returned Allen. He grasped Hollis’s hand and wrung it heartily. “You’re a winner and I’m mighty glad to be able to work with you.” He spoke seriously. “Do you think there’s a chance for us to beat Dunlavey?”
Hollis laughed. “I flatter myself that a certain editor in this town stands rather well with the people of this county since a certain thing happened.”
“You sure do!” grinned Allen. “Lordy! how this county has needed a man like you!”
Hollis smiled. “Then you won’t object to being theKicker’scandidate?” he inquired.
“Object!” returned Allen with mock seriousness. “Say, young man, if you don’t keep my name at the head of your editorial column from now till the first Monday in November I’ll come down here and manhandle you!”
And so it was arranged. Dry Bottom gaspedin public but rejoiced in secret. Many of the town’s merchants personally congratulated Hollis.
But for two days following the appearance of the issue of theKickercontaining these sensations, Hollis stayed away from Dry Bottom. Now that he had launched Allen’s campaign and placed the other matters before his readers, he began to devote some attention to the problem of arranging for Ed Hazelton’s visit to the great Chicago surgeon. Both Nellie and Ed had been disappointed because of his continued absence, and when, on an afternoon a few days after his activity in Dry Bottom, he rode up to the Hazelton cabin his welcome was a cordial one.
“It seems like a year since I’ve seen you!” declared Hazelton as he came down from the porch to lead Hollis’s pony into the shade at the rear of the cabin.
While he was gone with the pony Hollis stood looking up at Nellie, who had remained seated in her chair on the porch and who was now regarding him with eyes in which shone unconcealed pleasure.
“It hasn’t really been so long, you know,” said Hollis, smiling at her. “But then, I have been so busy that I may not have noticed it.”
Of course she could not tell him how manytimes she had sat on the porch during Ed’s absences watching the Coyote trail. But she blushed and made room for him on the porch. Ed appeared presently and joined them there. The young man was not able to conceal his joy over the prospect of his ultimate recovery from the peculiar malady that afflicted him, and gratitude mingled with it as he looked at his benefactor. He had not recovered from an attack the day before.
“We’ve got it all arranged,” he told Hollis with a wan smile. “I’m going to Chicago just as soon as I can get things fixed.” He reddened with embarrassment as he continued: “There’s some things that I’d like to talk to you about before I make up my mind when to start,” he said; “I’ve been worrying about what to do with my stock while I’m gone. I wouldn’t want it to stray or be run off by Dunlavey’s gang.” The appeal in his eyes did not escape Hollis’s keen observation.
“I have thought of that too,” smiled the latter. “In fact, I have talked it over with Norton. He tells me that he won’t have any trouble in caring for your stock while you are away.”
“Thanks.” Hazelton did not trust himself to say more at that moment. He knew how great would be the task of caring for his stockduring his absence, and had not Hollis come to his aid with this offer he would have had to give up the proposed trip. He sat silent until his composure returned, and then he looked up at Hollis gratefully.
“That will make things much easier for Nellie,” he said. And then, remembering that Hollis knew nothing of his intention to ask him for permission to allow Nellie to remain at the Circle Bar during his absence, he fell silent again.
“Easier?” inquired Hollis, puzzled. He had supposed that Nellie would accompany her brother to Chicago. He did not look at either of the two for a time. He had been anticipating a period of lonesomeness and this unexpected news came like a bright shaft of light into the darkness.
“But you can’t allow her to stay at the cabin alone!” he said when Ed did not answer. And then the thought struck him that this peculiar silence on Ed’s part could mean only one thing–that he and Nellie had decided that she was not to accompany him, and that the problem that was now confronting them–since he had told them that his men would care for the cattle–was the girl’s welfare. He appreciated the situation and smiled wisely into the yawningdistance. But a deep sympathy made the smile grim.
“I have sometimes wondered how it were possible for a woman to live in this country without having close at hand one of her sex with whom to gossip,” he remarked, looking at Ed and deliberately closing an eye at him. “It doesn’t bother a man so much–this being alone. If he is a drinking man there are the saloons; if a poet he may write wise saws concerning the inconstancy of women; he may punch cows, another man’s head–or run a newspaper. In any case his mind is occupied.
“But a woman! Of course it is different with a woman. A woman must talk–she simply can’t help it. There’s Mrs. Norton. Only this morning I chanced to hear her remark to her lord and master that if he did not soon provide her with a companion with whom she might discuss the things which are dear to the feminine heart, he might as well make up his mind to requisition the mourners. All of which suggests the thought that perhaps it would not be a bad idea for Miss Hazelton to bundle up her things and advance on the Circle Bar. Thus two ends will be served–Mrs. Norton will secure her companion and Norton will find peace.” He turned to Nellie. “Of course if you are afraid that thecabin will stray during your absence I could manage to ride the Coyote trail each morning and evening–or you could ride over yourself occasionally.”
He could tell by the light in her eyes that she was pleased over the suggestion. He was sure of it when she smiled at him.
“If you really think that Mrs. Norton would like some one to talk to—” she began, and then hesitated, her eyes suddenly widening as she saw an odd light in his. “Oh!” she said, “it isn’t true about Mrs. Norton wanting to talk. You have guessed that I–that Ed–wanted me to go—” But confusion descended upon her and she flushed crimson with embarrassment.
“If you think it isn’t true, why don’t you ride over to the Circle Bar and inquire?” he smiled.
“Perhaps I may,” she replied, looking at him in mock defiance.
As a precaution against the carrying out of this threat, Hollis that night acquainted Mrs. Norton with the facts in the case, even going so far as to inform the lady brazenly that he had deliberately lied about her. But when she had been fully informed, she told Hollis that she did not blame him very much, and that should Nellie carry out her threat to come to her upon an errand having as its object a question of his veracity,she would assure the young lady that he had spoken the plain truth. Would that be sufficient?
Hollis told her that it would, and the following morning on his way to Dry Bottom, he took the Coyote trail and stopped off at the Hazelton cabin, where he informed Ed that he had decided to send Weary with him on his trip to Chicago.
Nellie spoke a few words to him while he lingered beside the porch, but her threat of the night before was not repeated and Hollis rightly guessed that it would never be carried out.