Chapter XXI
Almost
Long hours and hard work in the cattle country mean that a man slipsfrom his saddle into his bunk and to sleep, and from his bunk into hissaddle again, with only time to bolt his food and hot coffeeinfrequently and at irregular intervals. Chuck Evans had obeyedorders; the ranch was short-handed and the 'old-timers' remainingcursed a little, to be sure, at the new order of things, but understoodand went to work. Howard, when he met them all at supper long afterdark, noted how their sunburned eyes turned upon him speculatively.And he knew that in their own parlance every mother's son of them wasready to go the limit if the old man set the pace. That night, whenthe others trooped off to bed, he detained Chuck Evans and Plug Oliverand Dave Terril for a brief conference. To them he gave in what detailhe could his latest plans. Also, since they were friends as well ashired hands, he told them frankly of his difficulties and of hissuccess with Engle. When the men left him they had accepted his fightas their own.
The first man in the saddle the next day was Howard. He ordered thetally taken of every head of stock on his ranch. This alone, since hisacres were broad and since his stock grazed free over thousands ofacres lying adjacent to Desert Valley on three sides, was a big task.Already, during his absence, a number of the best of the beef cattlehad been moved to the meadowlands. He set a man to close-herd there;he sent other men to bring in still other straying stock; he himselfjudged every single head, cutting out those he deemed unfit; finally hesaw the growing herd driven down into the choicest of his meadowgrazing land to fatten.
All of this required days. Between breakfast and supper every man withthe outfit changed his horse several times; Howard, the hardest riderof them all, changed horses five times the first day. He and his menshowed signs of the strain they put upon their bodies; they were agaunt, lean-jawed, wild-eyed lot. There was little frolic left in themwhen night came; they were short-spoken, prone to grow fierce overtrifles. But there was not a sullen or discontented man among them.They took what came; they had known times of stress before; they couldlook forward to a day to come of boisterous relaxation and money to bespent in town. Though the subject had never been mentioned, they fullyunderstood that there would be a bonus coming and a glorious holiday.They would see the old man through now: later he would square theaccount.
Eat, sleep and work; there was nothing else in their schedule. Thetimes when Howard had a few moments over a cigarette to think quietlyof Helen were times when he could not go to her: in the dimness of thecoming day when he was going out to saddle and she would still beasleep; in the dark of the day ended when she would be going to bed.But he held grimly to his task here, saying to himself that in a fewdays he would ride to her and with something to say; wondering how shewould listen; sometimes aglow with his hope, sometimes fearing. And,as he thought of her, so did he think often of John Carr. He did notknow if Carr had gone East or if still he were a daily guest at theLongstreet home. Not a man of his riders had been beyond the confinesof the grazing lands; no one had come in from the outside. There wasno news.
So a full week sped by. Then for the first time came both opportunityand excuse for Howard to leave the ranch. Chuck Evans had ridden intoSan Ramon to see if there were a market for a string of mules; hebrought back word that a teamster named Roberts in the new mining-camphad been making inquiries. It seemed that he wanted high-grade stockand had the money to pay for it. Everything was running smoothly onthe ranch, and Howard rode this time on his own errand. But, beforestarting for Sanchia's Town, he slipped into the ranchhouse and shavedand changed to a new shirt and chaps and recently blackened boots.Thereafter he brushed his best black hat. Then from a bottom drawer ofhis old bureau, where it was hidden under a pile of clothing, hebrought out a parcel which had come with him from a store in San Juan.
As good a way as any to see Roberts in Sanchia's Town led by way of theLongstreet camp on Last Ridge. Howard took the winding trail up whichhis horse could climb to the plateau, and once on the level land cameswooping down on the well-remembered spot joyously. The spot itselfwas hidden from him by the grove of stunted pines until he came withina couple of hundred yards of it. Then he jerked his horse down to astandstill and sat staring before him incredulously. The cabin wasgone quite as though there had never been a cabin there in all time.
At first he wouldn't believe his eyes. Then swiftly his wondermentaltered to consternation. They had gone! Helen and her father hadgone. Carr had prevailed upon them; Howard had not come to see; by nowthey were flying eastward upon the speeding overland train, or perhapswere already in New York.
The splendour of the day died; the joyousness went out of his heart; hesat staring at the emptiness before him, then at the parcel in brownpaper clutched so foolishly in his hand. He looked all about him;through the trees as though he expected to see Helen's laughing facewatching him; across the broken ridges beyond the flat; down into hisown valley. Down there, too, the glory had passed. When he had stoodhere with Helen and they two had looked across the valley landstogether, it had been to him like the promised land. Now it was somuch dirt and rock and grass with cows and horses browsing stupidlyacross all of it.
For a long time he sat very still. Then his face hardened.
'If she has gone, then I am going, too,' he told himself. 'And I amgoing to bring her back.'
He turned his horse and rode swiftly to Sanchia's Town. They wouldhave gone that way, on to Big Run, San Ramon and down to the railroad.In such a case he would have word of them in the mining-camp. In hispresent mood he required only a few minutes to come to the newsettlement. Had he been less absorbed in his own thoughts he must havebeen amazed at what he saw about him. He had known men before now tomake towns upon dry bare ground and in a mere handful of days; not evenhe, with his first-hand knowledge of such venturings, had ever seen thelike of Sanchia's Town. The spirit which had initiated it into theworld was still its driving spirit. It sprawled, it overflowed itsboundaries incessantly, it hooted and yelled and sang. It grew like aformless mass lumped about fermenting yeast. Already there were shacksand tents up and down both sides of Dry Gulch and strung along in thegravelly bed. There were gambling-houses, monstrosities which namedthemselves hotels and rooming-houses, stores, lunch counters. Thestreets were crooked alleys; everywhere dust puffed up and thickenedand never settled; teams and jolting wagons and pack burros disputedthe congested way; there were seasoned miners, old-time prospectors,going their quiet ways; there were tenderfeet of all descriptions. Notless than five thousand human souls had already found their way toSanchia's Town and more were coming.
In all of this to-day, Howard took scant interest. His major emotionwas one of annoyance. Among such a seething crowd where should he askof the Longstreets? He sat his horse in a narrow space between a lunchcounter and a canvas bar-room and stared about him. Then he saw thatthe solitary figure perched upon a box before the lunch counter wasYellow Barbee. He called to him quickly.
Barbee's young eyes, which he turned promptly, were still eloquent ofan amorous joyousness within Barbee's young soul. He bestowed hisglance only fleetingly upon Howard, said a brief 'Hello, Al,' andturned immediately to the cause of the obvious flutter in Barbee'sbosom. Howard expected to see Sanchia Murray behind the counter.Instead he saw a young girl of a little less than Barbee's age,roguish-eyed, black-haired, red-mouthed, plump and saucy. Her sleeveswere up; her arms were brown and round; there was flour on them.
'Where are the Longstreets, Barbee?' asked Howard.
'Gone,' announced Barbee cheerfully. And as though that closed thematter to his entire satisfaction, he demanded: 'Come on, Pet; be agood kid. Going with me, ain't you?'
Pet laughed and thereafter turned up her pretty nose with obviouslymock disdain.
'Dancing old square dances and polkas, I'd bet a stack of wheats,' shescoffed. 'Why, there ain't any more real jazz in your crowd ofcow-hands than there is in an old man's home. What do you take me for,any
way?'
'Aw, come on,' grinned Barbee. 'You're joshing. If it's jazz youwant----'
'Look here,' said Howard impatiently. 'I'm just asking a question, andI'll get out of your way. Where did they go?'
'Who?' asked Barbee.
'The Longstreets.'
'Dunno,' Barbee shrugged. Then, as an afterthought, 'Sanchia Murraycould tell you; she's been sticking tight to them. She's got a tent upyonder, back of the Courtot House on the edge of town.'
Howard hurried on. The lunch counter girl, following him with criticaleyes, demanded for him or anyone else to hear:
'Who's your bean-pole friend, Kid?'
But the answer Howard did not hear. He swung out to the side to befree of the town and galloped on to Sanchia's tent, which he foundreadily. Sanchia herself was in front of it, just preparing to saddleher white mare.
'Hello, Al,' she greeted him carelessly, though her eyes narrowed athim speculatively.
'Where have the Longstreets gone?' he asked without preliminary.
'Back in the hills, Bear Valley way,' she replied, still scrutinizinghim. She marked the look of relief in his eyes and laughed cynicallyand withal a trifle bitterly. 'On the Red Hill trail. Going to seethem?'
'Yes.' He reined away, and then added stiffly, 'Thank you.'
'Wait a minute,' she called to him. 'I'm just going up there myself.You might saddle for me, and I'll ride with you.'
He paused and looked her sternly and steadily in the eyes. His voicewas cold and his words were outspoken.
'I had rather ride alone, and you know it. Further, after the way youhave tricked that man, I'd think you'd draw off and leave them alone.You can't do a thing like that twice.'
For an instant the look in her eyes was baffling. Then there shotthrough the inscrutability of it a sudden gleam of malice that was likea spurt of flame. It was the fire which before now Howard's attitudehad kindled there.
'What you men see in that little fool, I don't know!' she cried hotly.'What has she that I haven't? I could have made you the biggest man inthe country; I would have given everything and held nothing back. I ameven honest enough to say so, and I am not afraid to say so. And youare stupid like every other man. Oh, I am done with the crowd of you!'she broke out violently, half hysterically. 'Laugh at me, will you?Turn your back on me, will you?' She paused and panted out the words.'Why, if you came crawling to me now I'd spit on you. And, so help meGod, I'll ruin the last one of you and your precious flock of lambsbefore I have done with you. If Jim Courtot can't do the trick, I'lldo for you first and Jim next.'
He wheeled his horse and left her, groping wonderingly for anexplanation of her fury. He had not spoken with her above a score oftimes in his life. He had merely been decent to her when, in thebeginning, it struck him that after all she was only a defencelesswoman and that men were hard on her. That his former simple kindnesswould have awakened any serious affection had failed to suggest itselfto him.
But swiftly he forgot Sanchia and her vindictiveness. She hadmentioned Courtot; for a little as he rode into the hills he puzzledover Courtot's recurrent disappearances. He recalled how, always whenhe came to a place where he might expect to find the gambler, he hadpassed on. Here of late he was like some sinister will-o'-the-wisp.What was it that urged him? A lure that beckoned? A menace thatdrove? He thought of Kish Taka. There was a nemesis to dog any man.Jim Courtot had dwelt with the desert Indians; he had come to know inwhat savage manner they meted out their retributive justice. Was KishTaka still unsleeping, patient, relentless on Courtot's trail? KishTaka and his dog?
But his horse's hoofs were beating out a merry music on the windingtrail that led toward the Red Hill country, and at the end of the trailwas Helen. Helen had not gone East. The frown in his eyes gave placeto his smile; the sunlight was again golden and glorious; the emptinessof the world was replaced by a large content.
'They just couldn't stand being so close to what they had lost,' heargued. 'It was a right move to come up here.'
He found the new camp without trouble. As he entered the lower end ofthe tiny valley he saw the canvas-walled cabin at the farther end,under the cliffs. He saw Helen herself. She was just stepping outthrough the door. He came racing on to her, waving his hat by way ofgreeting. He slipped down from the saddle, let his bundle fall andcaught both of her hands in his.
After this long, unexplained absence Helen had meant to be very stiffwhen, on some fine day, Alan Howard remembered to come again. But now,under his ardent eyes, the colour ran up into her cheeks in rebelliousdefiance of her often strengthened determination and, though shewrenched herself free from him, something of the fire in his eyes wasreflected in hers.
'Good afternoon, Mr. Cyclone,' she said quite as carelessly as hissudden appearance permitted her vaguely disturbed senses. 'What areyou going to do? Run over me?'
He laughed joyously.
'I could eat you,' he told her enthusiastically. 'You look just thatgood to me. Lord, but I'm hungry for the sight of you!'
'That's nice of you to say so,' Helen answered. And now she was quiteall that she had planned to be; as coolly indifferent as only a girlcan be when something has begun to sing in her heart and she has madeup her mind that no one must hear the singing. 'But I fail to see whythis very excellent imitation of a man who hasn't seen his best friendfor a couple of centuries.'
'It has been that long, every bit of it--longer.'
Helen's smile was that stock smile to be employed in answer to aninconsequential compliment paid by a chance acquaintance.
'Three or four days is hardly an eternity,' she retorted.
'Three or four days? Why, it's been over nine! Nearly ten.'
She appeared both amazed and incredulous. Then she waved the matteraside as of no moment.
'I was going out to the spring for a drink,' she said. 'Will you waithere? Father will be in soon.'
'I'll come along, if there's room for two.' He picked up his parcel,which Helen noted without seeming to note anything. 'Look here,Helen,' as she started on before him to the thicket of willows, 'aren'tyou the least little bit glad to see me?'
'Why, of course I am,' she assured him politely. 'And papa waswondering about you only this morning. Isn't it pretty here?'
He admitted without enthusiasm that it was. He had not seen anythingbut her. She had on a blue dress; she wore a wide hat; her eyes werenothing less than maddening. He recalled the prettiness of Barbee'snew girl at the lunch counter; he remembered Sanchia's regularfeatures; these two were simply not of the same order of beings asHelen. No woman was. He strode behind her as she flitted on up thetrail and felt thrilling through him an odd commingling of reverence,of adoration, of infinite yearning.
She came to the spring and stopped, watching him eagerly though shepretended to be looking anywhere but at him. And for a moment Howard,marvelling at the spot, let his eyes wander from her. The spring hadbeen cleaned out and rimmed with big flat rocks. About it, as thoughrecently transplanted here, were red and blue flowers. Just at handclose to the clear pool was a delightful shade cast by a freshlyconstructed shelter. And the shelter itself made him open his eyes.Willow poles, with the leaves still green on them, had been set in thesoft earth. Across them other poles had been placed cunningly woven inand out. Still other branches, criss-crossed above, and piled highwith foliage, offered a thick mat of verdure to shield one from the hotrays of the sun. Within the elfin chamber was a rustic seat;everywhere, their roots enwrapped in wet earth, were flowers.
'It's wonderful!' he told her, and now his enthusiasm had beenawakened. 'And, of course it's your own idea and your own work.'
'Oh my, no! It was John's idea and John made it!'
'John?'
'John Carr. He has been a perfect dear. Isn't he wonderful?'
Yes, Carr was wonderful. But already Howard's enthusiasm had fled.
'The leaves will wilt pretty soon,' he found fault in spite of him
self.He was a little ashamed even while he was speaking. 'The flowers willdie, and then----'
Helen was already seated within, smiling, looking placid andunconcerned.
'By then,' she announced lightly, 'I'll be gone; so it won't matter.'
'Gone?' he demanded sharply. 'Where?'
'East. Mr. Carr has gone on ahead. We are to meet him in New York.'
He sat down upon a rock just outside her door and made no attempt tohide what was in his heart. He had thought to have lost her when hecame to the spot whence the cabin had vanished; he had found her here;he was going to lose her again. . . . Helen's heart quickened at hislook, and she lowered her head, pretending to be occupied exclusivelywith a thistle that had caught on her skirt, afraid that he would know.
'Why are you going like this?' he asked suddenly.
She appeared to hesitate.
'I ought not to say anything against one of your friends,' she saidwith a great show of ingenuousness. 'But, Mrs. Murray----'
Explosively he cut her short. 'You know that she is not a friend ofmine and that she has never been and never will be a friend of mine.Why do you say that?'
She shrugged her shoulders and went on smiling at him. That smilebegan to madden him; it appeared to speak of such an unruffled spiritwhen his own was in tumult.
'I beg your pardon, I'm sure. I was merely going to say that Mrs.Murray shows too great an interest in papa. Of course I understandher, and he doesn't. Dear old pops is a perfect child. She hastricked him once; she seems to think him worth watching; she isunbearable. So I am going to do the very natural thing and take himaway from her. Back where he belongs by the way; where we both belong.'
'That is not true; you don't belong anywhere but here.' He beganspeaking slowly, very earnestly and with little show of emotion. Butlittle by little his speech quickened, his voice was raised, his wordsbecame vehement. 'You belong here. There is no land in the world likethis, just as there is no girl like you. Listen to me, Helen! Foryour sake, for my sake--yes, and for your father's sake--you must stay.You were speaking of him; let's think of him first. He is like a childin that he has kept a pure, simple heart. But he is not without hisown sort of wisdom. He knows rocks and strata and geologicalformation; he found gold once, and that was not just accident. Helost, but he lost without a whimper. He is a good sport. He will findgold again because it is here and he knows how to find it and where tofind it.'
He paused, and Helen, though with no great show of interest and noslightest indication of being impressed, waited for him to go on.
'The fault in what has occurred is less his than mine. Knowing thesort Sanchia Murray is, I should not have given her the opportunitythat day of a long talk alone with him. But,' his meaning was plain ashe caught and held her eye, 'I was in the mood to forget Sanchia Murrayand Professor Longstreet and every one else but the girl I was with.'
Helen laughed lightly, again passing the remark by as a mere complimentof the negligible order.
'Don't do that, Helen,' he said gravely. She saw that a new sort ofsternness had entered into his manner. 'I have been working, workinghard not alone for myself but for you. Desert Valley has always beento me the one spot in the world; you saw it and loved it, and sincethen there is no money that would buy it from me. If it were reallymine! And I have been working night and day to make it mine. So thatsome day----'
She was not ready for this, and, though her colour warmed, sheinterrupted swiftly:
'You speak as though there were danger of losing it.'
He explained, plunging into those matters which had absorbed his mindduring so many hard hours, telling her how he had paid Carr twelvethousand and five hundred dollars when he had expected to pay only tenthousand, how he had been obliged to ride to San Juan for money, of hissuccess with Engle, of his plans for sales, of cutting down his forceof men; all that he had done and all that he hoped to do. She caughtsomething of the spirit of the endeavour and leaned forward tense andlistening.
'But surely Mr. Carr, being your best friend, would not have driven youlike this?'
Howard did not answer directly. This hesitation, being unusual in him,caught Helen's attention.
'I imagine John needed the money,' he said quietly. 'I didn't sayanything to him about being short of cash. By the way, while in SanJuan I got this for you. I thought you'd like it.'
He unwrapped the bundle. In it were a beautiful Spanish bit, richlysilvered and with headstall and reins of cunningly plaited rawhide, anda pair of dainty spurs which winked gaily in the sunshine. Helen'seyes sparkled as she put out her hand for them. Her rush of thanks heturned aside by saying hastily:
'I've got the little horse to go with them. I'd like mighty well togive him to you. I don't know whether you can accept yet, but I'mrounding up a lot of horses and when we get a rope on Danny I'm goingto lend him to you. To keep indefinitely, as long as you'll have him.'
Long ago Helen's fancies had been ensnared by the big picturesqueranch; long ago her heart had gone out to a fine saddle horse. Nolonger did she seek to hold her interest in check; she asked him quickquestions about everything that he had overlooked telling her andexclaimed with delighted anticipation when he suggested that she andher father ride down and watch at the round-up. He'd have Danny readyfor her and would have ridden him enough to remind him that his longfrisky vacation was at an end.
They were very close together and very happy just then, when a laughingvoice broke in upon their dreamings.
'Isn't he the most adorable lover in the world? But look out for him,my dear child. He nearly broke my heart once. Hello, Al! Sorry Icouldn't come up with you. But, you see, I followed as dose as Icould!'
They had not heard Sanchia's horse, and Sanchia had drawn her owndeduction from the fact. Helen stiffened perceptibly, drawing slowlyback. Howard's face reddened to his anger.