CHAPTER XX
FLUFF AND BLACK BILL
Fluff and Black Bill were quarrelling.
Elmer, while Norton and Virginia were on their way from San Juan to LasEstrellas, had dropped in at the hotel to see his sister. He foundupon her office table the card which she always left for him; thismerely informed him that she was "out on a case at Las Estrellas."Elmer had come for her purposing to suggest a call upon the Engles.For not yet had he summoned the hardihood to present himself alone atFlorrie's home. Now, disgruntled, seeing plainly that Virginia wouldnever get back in time, he went out on the veranda and took solace fromthe pipe to which he had grown fairly accustomed. To him came the girlof whom he was thinking. "Hello, Fluff," he said from the shadows.
"Hello, Black Bill," she greeted him. "Where's Virgie?"
"Gone," he informed her, waving his pipe. "On a case to Las Estrellas.I'm waiting for her. Did you want to see her?"
Florrie, coming down the veranda to him, giggled.
"No," she told him flippantly. "I'm looking for the Emperor of China.I never was so lonesome. . . ."
"So'm I," said Elmer. He pushed a chair forward with his foot. "Sitdown and we'll wait for her. And I'll go in and bring out a couple ofbottles of ginger ale or something."
"Will she be back real soon?" asked Florrie pretending to hesitate.
"Sure," he assured her positively.
"All right then." Florrie with a great rustling of skirts sat down."But you must be nice to me, Black Bill."
"It's always you who starts it," he muttered at her. "I'd be friendsif you would. What's the good of spatting like two kids, anyway?"
"We're really not kids any longer, are we?" she agreed demurely. "Ifeel terribly grown up sometimes, don't you?"
From which point they got along swimmingly for perhaps five minuteslonger than it had ever been possible for them to talk together without"starting something." Elmer, very emphatic in his own mind concerninghis matured status, yearned for her to understand it as he did. Withsuch purpose clearly before him . . . and before her, too, for thatmatter, since Miss Florrie had a keen little comprehension of herown . . . he spoke largely of himself and his blossoming plans. He wasa vaquero, to begin with; he had ridden fifty miles yesterday on rangebusiness; he was making money; he was putting part of that money awayin Mr. Engle's bank. There was a little ranch on the rim of Engle'sbig holding which belonged to an old half-breed; Elmer meant to acquireit himself one of these days. And before so very long, too. Mr. Englehad been approached and was looking into it, might be persuaded toadvance the couple of thousand dollars for the property, taking assecurity a mortgage until Elmer could have squared for it. Then BlackBill would begin stocking his place, a cow now, a horse, another cow,and so on.
He had launched himself valiantly into his tale. But at a certainpoint he began to swallow and catch at his words and smoke fast betweensentences. He had located a dandy spot for a house . . . the jolliestlittle spring of cold water you ever saw . . . a knoll with big treesupon it.
"We'll make up a party with Virginia and Norton some day and ride outthere," he said abruptly. "I . . . I'd like to have you see it, Fluff."
She was tremulously delighted. She sensed the nearest thing to anout-and-out proposal which had ever sung in her ears. She leanedforward eagerly, her hands clasped to keep them from trembling. Shewas sixteen, he eighteen . . . and she had his assurance of a momentago that they were no longer just "kids." And then and there theirso-long-delayed quarrel began. Just at the wrong time, after thetime-honored fashion of quarrels. He was ready to twine the vine aboutthe veranda posts of the house on the knoll where the spring and thebig trees were, she was ready to plant the fig-tree. Then she hadglimpsed something just too funny for anything in the idea of Elmerraising pigs . . . for he had gone on to that, sagely anticipating ahigh market another season . . . and she laughed at him and allunintentionally wounded his feelings. In a flash he was Black Billagain and on his mettle, ready with the quick retort stung from him;and she, parrying his thrust, was at once Fluff, the mercuric. Thespat was on . . . they would call it a spat to-morrow if to-morrow werekind to them . . . and Elmer's ranch and house and cow, horse and pigswere laughed to scorn.
Florrie departed leaving her cruellest laughter to ring in his ears.This might have been a repetition of any one of a dozen episodesfamiliar to them both, but never, perhaps, had Elmer's ears burned soor Florrie's heart so disturbed her with its beating. For, she thoughtregretfully as she hurried out into the street, they had been gettingalong so nicely. . . .
She had no business out alone at this time of night and she knew it.So she hurried on, anxious to get home before her father, who wasreturning late from a visit to one of his ranches. Abreast of the CasaBlanca she slowed up, looking in curiously. Then, as again she washastening on, she heard Jim Galloway's deep voice in a quiet "Goodevening, Miss Florence."
"Good evening!" gasped Florrie aloud. And "Oh!" said Florrie under herbreath. For Galloway's figure had separated itself from the shadows atthe side of his open door and had come out into the street, whileGalloway was saying in a matter-of-fact way: "I'll see you home."
She wanted to run and could not. She hung a moment balancing upon ahigh heel in indecision. Galloway stepped forward swiftly, coming toher side. "Oh, dear," the inner Florrie was saying. A glance over hershoulder showed her Black Bill standing out in front of Struve's hotel.Well, there were compensations.
She started to hurry on, and had Jim Galloway been less sure ofhimself, troubled with the diffidence of youth as was Elmer, he musthave either given over his purpose or else fairly run to keep up withher. But being Jim Galloway, he laid a gentle but none the lessrestraining hand upon her arm.
"Please," he said quietly. "I want to talk with you. May I?"
Florrie's arm burned where he had touched her. She was all in aflutter, half frightened and the other half flattered. A shade moreleisurely they walked on toward the cottonwoods. Here, in the shadows,Galloway stopped and Florrie, although beginning to tremble, stoppedwith him.
"Men have given me a black name here," he was saying as he faced her."They've made me somewhat worse than I am. I feel that I have fewfriends, certainly very few of my own class. I like to think of you asa friend. May I?"
It was distinctly pleasant to have a big man like Galloway, a man whomfor good or for bad the whole State knew, pleading with her. It gave anew sort of assurance to her theory that she was "grown up"; it addedto her importance in her own eyes.
"Why, yes," said Florrie.
"I am going away," he continued gravely. "For just how long I don'tknow. A week, perhaps a month, maybe longer. It is a business matterof considerable importance, Florence. Nor is it entirely withoutdanger. It will take me down below the border, and an American inMexico right now takes his life entirely into his own hands. You knowthat, don't you?"
"Then why do you go?"
Galloway smiled down at her.
"If I held back every time a danger-signal was thrown out," he saidlightly, "I wouldn't travel very far. Oh, I'll come back all right; aman may go through fire itself and return if he has the incentive whichI have." His tone altered subtly. Florrie started.
"But before I go," went on Galloway, "I am going to tell you somethingwhich I think you know already. You do, don't you, Florence?"
She would not have been Florrie at all, but some very different,unromantic, and unimaginative creature, had she failed ofcomprehension. Jim Galloway was actually making love to her!
"What do you mean, Mr. Galloway?" she managed to stammer.
"I mean that what I am telling you is for your ears alone. I amplacing a confidence in you, the greatest confidence a man can place ina girl. Or in a woman, Florence. I am trusting that what I say willremain just between you and me for the present. . . . When I come backI will be no longer just Jim Galloway of the Casa Blanca, but Gallowayof one of the biggest grants in Mexico, with mile afte
r mile of fertilelands, with a small army of servants, vaqueros, and retainers, a sortof ruler of my own State! It sounds like a fairy-tale, Florence, butit is the sober truth made possible by conditions below the border. Myestates will run down to the blue water of the Gulf; I shall have myown fleet of ocean-going yachts; there is a port upon my own land.There will be a home overlooking the sea like a king's palace. Willyou think of all that while I am gone? Will you think of me a little,too? Will you remember that my little kingdom is crying out for itsqueen? . . . No; I am not asking you to answer me now. I am justasking that you hold this as our secret until I come back. Until Icome back for you! . . . I shall stand here until you reach yourhome," he broke off suddenly. "Good night, my dear."
"Good night," said Florence faintly, a little dazed by all that he hadsaid to her. Then, running through the shadows to her home, she wasthinking of the boy who had wished to propose to her and of the man whohad done so; of Elmer's little home upon the knoll surrounded by a cow,a horse, and some pigs . . . and of a big house like a palace lookingout to sea across the swaying masts of white-sailed, sea-going yachts!