CHAPTER XVII
MORE PROGRESS
A strange thing was happening to Calumet. His character was in theprocess of remaking. Slowly and surely Betty's good influence wasmaking itself felt. This in spite of his knowledge of her secretmeeting with Neal Taggart. To be sure, so far as his actions wereconcerned, he was the Calumet of old, a man of violent temper andvicious impulses, but there were growing governors that werecontinually slowing his passions, strange, new thoughts that werethrusting themselves insistently before him. He was strangelyuncertain of his attitude toward Betty, disturbed over his feelingstoward her. Despite his knowledge of her secret meeting with Taggart,with a full consciousness of all the rage against her which thatknowledge aroused in him, he liked her. At the same time, he despisedher. She was not honest. He had no respect for any woman who wouldsneak as she had sneaked. She was two-faced; she was trying to cheathim out of his heritage. She had deceived his father, she was tryingto deceive him. She was unworthy of any admiration whatever, butwhenever he looked at her, whenever she was near him, he was consciousof a longing that he could not fight down.
And there was Dade. He often watched Dade while they were workingtogether on the bunkhouse in the days following the incident of theambush by Taggart. The feeling that came over him at these times wasindescribable and disquieting, as was his emotion whenever Dade smiledat him. He had never experienced the deep, stirring spirit ofcomradeship, the unselfish affection which sometimes unites the heartsof men; he had had no "chum" during his youth. But this feeling thatcame over him whenever he looked at Dade was strangely like that whichhe had for his horse, Blackleg. It was deeper, perhaps, and disturbedhim more, yet it was the same. At the same time, it was different.But he could not tell why. He liked to have Dade around him, and oneday when the latter went to Lazette on some errand for Betty he feltqueerly depressed and lonesome. That same night when Dade drove intothe ranchhouse yard Calumet had smiled at him, and a little later whenDade had told Betty about it he had added:
"When I seen him grin at me that cordial, I come near fallin' off myhorse. I was that flustered! Why, Betty, he's comin' around! Thedurn cuss likes me!"
"Do you like him?" inquired Betty.
"Sure. Why, shucks! There ain't nothin' wrong with him exceptin' hisgrouch. When he works that off so's it won't come back any more he'llbe plumb man, an' don't you forget it!"
There was no mistaking Calumet's feeling toward Bob. He pitied theyoungster. He allowed him to ride Blackleg. He braided him ahalf-sized lariat. He carried him long distances on his back andwaited upon him at the table. Bob became his champion; the boyworshiped him.
Betty was not unaware of all this, and yet she continued to holdherself aloof from Calumet. She did not treat him indifferently, shemerely kept him at a distance. Several times when he spoke to herabout Neal Taggart she left him without answering, and so he knew thatshe resented the implication that he had expressed on the morningfollowing the night on which he had discovered her talking in theoffice.
It was nearly three weeks after the killing of Denver and hisconfederate that the details of the story reached Betty's ears, andCalumet was as indifferent to her expressions of horror--though it wasa horror not unmixed with a queer note of satisfaction, over which hewondered--as he was to Dade's words of congratulation: "You're surelivin' up to your reputation of bein' a slick man with the six!"
Nor did Calumet inquire who had brought the news. But when one day aroaming puncher brought word from the Arrow that "young Taggart isaround ag'in after monkeyin' with the wrong end of a gun," he showedinterest. He was anxious to settle the question which had been in hismind since the morning of the shooting. It was this: had Betty meantto hit Taggart when she had shot at him? He thought not; she hadpretended hostility in order to mislead him. But if that had been herplan she had failed to fool him, for he watched unceasingly, and manynights when Betty thought him asleep he was secreted in the wood nearthe ranchhouse. He increased his vigilance after receiving word thatTaggart had not been badly injured. More, he rarely allowed Betty toget out of his sight, for he was determined to defeat the plan to robhim.
However, the days passed and Taggart did not put in an appearance.Time removes the sting from many hurts and even jealousy's pangs areassuaged by the flight of days. And so after a while Calumet'svigilance relaxed, and he began to think that he had scared Taggartaway. He noted with satisfaction that Betty seemed to treat him lesscoldly, and he felt a pulse of delight over the thought that perhapsshe had repented and had really tried to hit Taggart that morning.
Once he seized upon this idea he could not dispel it. More, it grew onhim, became a foundation upon which he built a structure of defense forBetty. Taggart had been trying to deceive her. She had discovered hisintentions and had broken with him. Perhaps she had seen the injusticeof her actions. He began to wish he had treated her a little lesscruelly, a little more civilly, began to wish that he had yielded tothose good impulses which he had felt occasionally of late. Hisattitude toward Betty became almost gentle, and there were times whenshe watched him with wondering curiosity, as though not quiteunderstanding the change that had come in him.
But Dade understood. He had "sized" Calumet "up" in those first daysand his judgment had been unerring, as it was now when Betty asked hisopinion.
"He's beginnin' to use his brain box," he told her. "He's been alittle shy an' backward, not knowin' what to expect, an' makin'friend's bein' a little new to him. But he's the goods at bottom, an'he's sighted a goal which he's thinkin' to make one of these days."
"A goal?" said she, puzzled.
"Aw, you female critters is deep ones," grinned Dade, "an' all smearedover with honey an' innocence. You're the goal he's after. An' I'mbettin' he'll get you."
Her face reddened, and she looked at him plainly indignant.
"He is a brute," she said.
"Most all men is brutes if you scratch them deep enough," drawled Dade."The trouble with Calumet is that he's never had a chance to spread onthe soft stuff. He's the plain, unvarnished, dyed-in-the-wool,original man. There's a word fits him, if I could think of it." Helooked at her inquiringly.
"Primitive, I think you mean," she said.
"That's it--primitive. That's him. He's the rough material; nobody'sever helped him to get into shape. A lot of folks pride themselves onwhat they call culture, forgettin' that it wasn't in them when theycame into the world, that it growed on them after they got here, wasput there by trainin' an' example. Not that I'm ag'in culture; it's amighty fine thing to have hangin' around a man. But if a man ain't gotit an' still measures up to man's size, he's goin' to be a humdingerwhen he gets all the culture that's comin' to him. Mebbe Calumet'llnever get it. But he's losin' his grouch, an' if you--"
"When do you think you will finish repairing the corral?" interruptedBetty.
Dade grinned. "Tomorrow, I reckon," he said.