III
WAYLAND RECEIVES A WARNING
Distance is no barrier to gossip. It amazed young Norcross to observe howminutely the ranchers of the valley followed one another's most intimatedomestic affairs. Not merely was each man in full possession of the colorand number of every calf in his neighbor's herd, it seemed that nothingcould happen in the most remote cabin and remain concealed. Any eventwhich broke the monotony of their life loomed large, and in all mattersof courtship curiosity was something more than keen, it was remorseless.
Living miles apart, and riding the roads but seldom, these lonely gossipstore to tatters every scrap of rumor. No citizen came or went withoutbeing studied, characterized, accounted for, and every woman wasscrutinized as closely as a stray horse, and if there was within her, theslightest wayward impulse some lawless centaur came to know it, to exultover it, to make test of it. Her every word, her minutest expression of anatural coquetry was enlarged upon as a sign of weakness, of yielding.Every personable female was the focus of a natural desire, intensified bylonely brooding on the part of the men.
It was soon apparent to the Eastern observer that the entire malepopulation for thirty miles around not only knew McFarlane's girl; butthat every unmarried man--and some who were both husbands andfathers--kept a deeply interested eye upon her daily motion, and certainshameless ones openly boasted among their fellows of their intention towin her favor, while the shy ones reveled in secret exultation over everychance meeting with her. She was the topic of every lumber-camp, and theshining lure of every dance to which the ranch hands often rode over longand lonely trails.
Part of this intense interest was due, naturally, to the scarcity ofdesirable women, but a larger part was called out by Berea's frankfreedom of manner. Her ready camaraderie was taken for carelessness, andthe candid grip of her hand was often misunderstood; and yet most of themen respected her, and some feared her. After her avowed choice ofClifford Belden they all kept aloof, for he was hot-tempered andformidably swift to avenge an insult.
At the end of a week Norcross found himself restless and discontentedwith the Meekers. He was tired of fishing, tired of the old man's endlessarguments, and tired of the obscene cow-hands. The men around the milldid not interest him, and their Saturday night spree at the saloondisgusted him. The one person who piqued his curiosity was Landon, theranger who was stationed not far away, and who could be seen occasionallyriding by on a handsome black horse. There was something in his bearing,in his neat and serviceable drab uniform, which attracted theconvalescent, and on Sunday morning he decided to venture a call,although Frank Meeker had said the ranger was a "grouch."
His cabin, a neat log structure, stood just above the road on a hugenatural terrace of grassy boulders, and the flag which fluttered from atall staff before it could be seen for several miles--the bright sign offederal control, the symbol of law and order, just as the saloon and themill were signs of lawless vice and destructive greed. Around the doorflowers bloomed and kittens played; while at the door of the dive brokenbottles, swarms of flies, and heaps of refuse menaced every corner, andthe mill immured itself in its own debris like a foul beast.
It was strangely moving to come upon this flower-like place and thisgarden in the wilderness. A spring, which crept from the high wall backof "the station" (as these ranger headquarters are called), gave itsdelicious water into several winding ditches, trickled musically down theother side of the terrace in little life-giving cascades, and so finally,reunited in a single current, fell away into the creek. It was plain thatloving care, and much of it, had been given to this tiny system ofirrigation.
The cabin's interior pleased Wayland almost as much as the garden. It wasbuilt of pine logs neatly matched and hewed on one side. There were buttwo rooms--one which served as sleeping-chamber and office, and one whichwas at once kitchen and dining-room. In the larger room a quaintfireplace with a flat arch, a bunk, a table supporting a typewriter, andseveral shelves full of books made up the furnishing. On the walls hung arifle, a revolver in its belt, a couple of uniforms, and a yellow oilskinraincoat.
The ranger, spurred and belted, with his cuffs turned back, was poundingthe typewriter when Wayland appeared at the open door; but he rose withgrave courtesy. "Come in," he said, and his voice had a pleasantinflection.
"I'm interrupting."
"Nothing serious, just a letter. There's no hurry. I'm always glad of anexcuse to rest from this job." He was at once keenly interested in hisvisitor, for he perceived in him the gentleman and, of course, thealien.
Wayland, with something of the feeling of a civilian reporting to anofficer, explained his presence in the neighborhood.
"I've heard of you," responded the ranger, "and I've been hoping you'dlook in on me. The Supervisor's daughter has just written me to lookafter you. She said you were not very well."
Again Wayland protested that he was not a consumptive, only a student whoneeded mountain air; but he added: "It is very kind of Miss McFarlane tothink of me."
"Oh, she thinks of everybody," the young fellow declared. "She's one ofthe most unselfish creatures in the world."
Something in the music of this speech, and something in the look of theranger's eyes, caused Wayland to wonder if here were not still another ofBerrie's subjects. He became certain of it as the young officer went on,with pleasing frankness, and it was not long before he had conveyed toWayland his cause for sadness. "She's engaged to a man that is not herequal. In a certain sense no man is her equal; but Belden is a prettyhard type, and I believe, although I can't prove it, that he is partowner of the saloon over there."
"How does that saloon happen to be here?"
"It's on patented land--a so-called 'placer claim'--experts have reportedagainst it. McFarlane has protested against it, but nothing is done. Themill is also on deeded land, and together they are a plague spot. I'mtheir enemy, and they know it; and they've threatened to burn me out. Ofcourse they won't do that, but they're ready to play any kind of trick onme."
"I can well believe that, for I am getting my share of practical jokes atMeeker's."
"They're not a bad lot over there--only just rowdy. I suppose they'reinitiating you," said Landon.
"I didn't come out here to be a cowboy," responded Norcross. "But FrankMeeker seems to be anxious to show me all the good old cowboy courtesies.On Monday he slipped a burr under my horse's saddle, and I came near tohaving my neck broken. Then he or some one else concealed a frog in mybed, and fouled my hair-brushes. In fact, I go to sleep each night inexpectation of some new attack; but the air and the riding are doing me agreat deal of good, and so I stay."
"Come and bunk with me," urged Landon. "I'll be glad to have you. I getterribly lonesome here sometimes, although I'm supposed to have the beststation in the forest. Bring your outfit and stay as long as you like."
This offer touched Norcross deeply. "That's very kind of you; but I guessI'll stick it out. I hate to let those hoodlums drive me out."
"All right, but come and see me often. I get so blue some days I wonderwhat's the use of it all. There's one fatal condition about this rangerbusiness--it's a solitary job, it cuts out marriage for most of us. Manyof the stations are fifteen or twenty miles from a post-office; then,too, the lines of promotion are few. I guess I'll have to get out,although I like the work. Come in any time and take a snack with me."
Thereafter Wayland spent nearly every day with the ranger, either in hiscabin or riding the trail, and during these hours confidence grew untilat last Landon confessed that his unrest arose from his rejection byBerrie.
"She was not to blame. She's so kind and free with every one, I thought Ihad a chance. I was conceited enough to feel sorry for the other fellows,and now I can't even feel sorry for myself. I'm just dazed and hanging tothe ropes. She was mighty gentle about it--you know how sunny her faceis--well, she just got grave and kind o' faint-voiced, and said--Oh, youknow what she said! She let me know there was another man. I didn't askher who, and when I found o
ut, I lost my grip entirely. At first Ithought I'd resign and get out of the country; but I couldn't do it--Ican't yet. The chance of seeing her--of hearing from her once in awhile--she never writes except on business for her father; but--you'lllaugh--I can't see her signature without a tremor." He smiled, but hiseyes were desperately sad. "I ought to resign, because I can't do my workas well as I ought to. As I ride the trail I'm thinking of her. I sithere half the night writing imaginary letters to her. And when I see her,and she takes my hand in hers--you know what a hand she has--my mind goesblank. Oh, I'm crazy! I admit it. I didn't know such a thing could happento me; but it has."
"I suppose it's being alone so much," Wayland started to argue, but theother would not have it so.
"No, it's the girl herself. She's not only beautiful in body, she's allsweetness and sincerity in mind. There isn't a petty thing about her. Andher happy smile--do you know, I have times when I resent that smile? Howcan she be so happy without me? That's crazy, too, but I think it,sometimes. Then I think of the time when she will not smile--when thatbrute Belden will begin to treat her as he does his sisters--then I getmurderous."
As Wayland listened to this outpouring he wondered at the intensity ofthe forester's passion. He marveled, too, at Berrie's choice, for therewas something fine and high in Landon's worship. A college man with amining engineer's training, he should go high in the service. "He madethe mistake of being too precipitate as a lover," concluded Wayland. "Hisforthright courtship repelled her."
Meanwhile his own troubles increased. Frank's dislike had grown to animpish vindictiveness, and if the old man Meeker had any knowledge of hisson's deviltries, he gave no sign. Mrs. Meeker, however, openly reprovedthe scamp.
"You ought to be ashamed of worrying a sick man," she protested,indignantly.
"He ain't so sick as all that; and, besides, he needs the starch takenout of him," was the boy's pitiless answer.
"I don't know why I stay," Wayland wrote to Berea. "I'm disgusted withthe men up here--they're all tiresome except Landon--but I hate to slinkaway, and besides, the country is glorious. I'd like to come down and seeyou this week. May I do so? Please send word that I may."
She did not reply, and wondering whether she had received his letter ornot, he mounted his horse one beautiful morning and rode away up thetrail with a sense of elation, of eager joy, with intent to call upon herat the ranch as he went by.
Hardly had he vanished among the pines when Clifford Belden rode in fromhis ranch on Hat Creek, and called at Meeker's for his mail.
Frank Meeker was in the office, and as he both feared and disliked thisbig contemptuous young cattleman, he set to work to make him jealous.
"You want to watch this one-lung boarder of ours," he warned, with agrin. "He's been writing to Berrie, and he's just gone down to see her.His highfalutin ways, and his fine white hands, have put her on theslant."
Belden fixed a pair of cold, gray-blue eyes on his tormentor, and said:"You be careful of your tongue or I'll put _you_ on the slant."
"I'm her own cousin," retorted Frank. "I reckon I can say what I pleaseabout her. I don't want that dude Easterner to cut you out. She guidedhim over here, and gave him her slicker to keep him dry, and I can seeshe's terribly taken with him. She's headstrong as a mule, once she getsstarted, and if she takes a notion to Norcross it's all up with you."
"I'm not worrying," retorted Belden.
"You'd better be. I was down there the other day, and it 'peared like shecouldn't talk of anything else but Mister Norcross, Mister Norcross, tillI was sick of his name."
An hour later Belden left the mill and set off up the trail behindNorcross, his face fallen into stern lines. Frank writhed in delight."There goes Cliff, hot under the collar, chasing Norcross. If he findsout that Berrie is interested in him, he'll just about wring that dude'sneck."
Meanwhile Wayland was riding through the pass with lightening heart, histhought dwelling on the girl at the end of his journey. Aside from Landonand Nash, she was the one soul in all this mountain world in whom he tookthe slightest interest. Her pity still hurt him, but he hoped to show hersuch change of color, such gain in horsemanship, that she could no longerconsider him an invalid. His mind kept so closely to these interiormatters that he hardly saw the path, but his horse led him safely backwith precise knowledge and eager haste.
As he reached the McFarlane ranch it seemed deserted of men, but a faintcolumn of smoke rising from the roof of the kitchen gave evidence of acook, and at his knock Berrie came to the door with a boyish word offrank surprise and pleasure. She was dressed in a blue-and-white calicogown with the collar turned in and the sleeves rolled up; but she seemedquite unembarrassed, and her pleasure in his coming quite repaid him forhis long and tiresome ride.
"I've been wondering about you," she said. "I'm mighty glad to see you.How do you stand it?"
"You got my letter?"
"I did--and I was going to write and tell you to come down, but I've hadsome special work to do at the office."
She took the horse's rein from him, and together they started towardthe stables. As she stepped over and around the old hoofs andmeat-bones--which littered the way--without comment, Wayland againwondered at her apparent failure to realize the disgusting disorder ofthe yard. "Why don't she urge the men to clean it up?" he thought.
This action of stabling the horses--a perfectly innocent and natural onefor her--led one of the hands, a coarse-minded sneak, to watch them froma corral. "I wonder how Cliff would like that?" he evilly remarked.
Berea was frankly pleased to see Wayland, and spoke of the improvementwhich had taken place in him. "You're looking fine," she said, as theywere returning to the house. "But how do you get on with the boys?"
"Not very well," he admitted. "They seem to have it in for me. It's aconstant fight."
"How about Frank?"
"He's the worst of them all. He never speaks to me that he doesn't insultme. I don't know why. I've tried my best to get into his good graces, butI can't. Your uncle I like, and Mrs. Meeker is very kind; but all theothers seem to be sworn enemies. I don't think I could stand it if itweren't for Landon. I spend a good deal of time with him."
Her face grew grave. "I reckon you got started wrong," she said at last."They'll like you better when you get browned up, and your clothes getdirty--you're a little too fancy for them just now."
"But you see," he said, "I'm not trying for their admiration. I haven'tthe slightest ambition to shine as a cow-puncher, and if those fellowsare fair samples I don't want anybody to mistake me for one."
"Don't let that get around," she smilingly replied. "They'd run you outif they knew you despised them."
"I've come down here to confer with you," he declared, as they reachedthe door. "I don't believe I want any more of their company. What's theuse? As you say, I've started wrong with them, and I don't see anyprospect of getting right; and, besides, I like the rangers better.Landon thinks I might work into the service. I wonder if I could? Itwould give me something to do."
She considered a moment. "We'll think about that. Come into the kitchen.I'm cook to-day, mother's gone to town."
The kitchen was clean and ample, and the delicious odor of new-made breadfilled it with cheer. As the girl resumed her apron, Wayland settled intoa chair with a sigh of content. "I like this," he said aloud. "There'snothing cowgirl about you now, you're the Anglo-Saxon housewife. Youmight be a Michigan or Connecticut girl at this moment."
Her cheeks were ruddy with the heat, and her eyes intent on her work; butshe caught enough of his meaning to be pleased with it. "Oh, I have totake a hand at the pots and pans now and then. I can't give all my timeto the service; but I'd like to."
He boldly announced his errand. "I wish you'd take me to board? I'm sureyour cooking would build up my shattered system a good deal quicker thanyour aunt's."
She laughed, but shook her head. "You ought to be on the hills ridinghard every day. What you need is the high country and the air of thepines."
"I'm not feeling any lack of scenery or pine-tree air," he retorted. "I'mperfectly satisfied right here. Civilized bread and the sight of you willdo me more good than boiled beans and camp bread. I hate to say it, butthe Meeker menu runs largely to beef. Moreover, just seeing you wouldhelp my recovery."
She became self-conscious at this, and he hastened to add:
"Not that I'm really sick. Mrs. Meeker, like yourself, persists intreating me as if I were. I'm feeling fine--perfectly well, only I'm notas rugged as I want to be."
She had read that victims of the white plague always talk in thischeerful way about themselves, and she worked on without replying, andthis gave him an excellent opportunity to study her closely. She wastaller than most women and lithely powerful. There was nothing delicateabout her--nothing spirituelle--on the contrary, she was markedlyfull-veined, cheerful and humorous, and yet she had responded severaltimes to an allusive phrase with surprising quickness. She did so now ashe remarked: "Somebody, I think it was Lowell, has said 'Nature is allvery well for a vacation, but a poor substitute for the society of goodmen and women.' It's beautiful up at the mill, but I want some one toenjoy it with, and there is no one to turn to, except Landon, and he'srather sad and self-absorbed--you know why. If I were here--in thevalley--you and I could ride together now and then, and you could show meall the trails. Why not let me come here and board? I'm going to ask yourmother, if I may not do so?"
Quite naturally he grew more and more personal. He told her of hisfather, the busy director of a lumber company, and of his mother, sicklyand inert.
"She ought never to have married," he said, with darkened brow. "Not oneof her children has even a decent constitution. I'm the most robust ofthem all, and I must seem a pretty poor lot to you. However, I wasn'talways like this, and if that young devil, Frank Meeker, hadn't tormentedme out of my sleep, I would have shown you still greater improvement.Don't you see that it is your duty to let me stay here where I can buildup on your cooking?"
She turned this aside. "Mother don't think much of my cooking. She says Ican handle a brandin'-iron a heap better than I can a rollin'-pin."
"You certainly can ride," he replied, with admiring accent. "I shallnever forget the picture you made that first time I saw you racing tointercept the stage. Do you _know_ how fine you are physically? You're awonder." She uttered some protest, but he went on: "When I think of mymother and sisters in comparison with you, they seem like caricatures ofwomen. I know I oughtn't to say such things of my mother--she really isan exceptional person--but a woman should be something more than mind. Mysisters could no more do what you do than a lame duck can lead a ballet.I suppose it is because I have had to live with a lot of ailing women allmy life that I feel as I do toward you. I worship your health andstrength. I really do. Your care of me on that trip was very sweet--andyet it stung."
"I didn't mean to hurt you."
"I know you didn't, and I'm not complaining. I'm only wishing I couldcome here and be 'bossed' by you until I could hold my own against anyweather. You make me feel just as I used to do when I went to a circusand watched the athletes, men and women, file past me in the sawdust.They seemed like demigods. As I sit here now I have a fierce desire to beas well, as strong, as full of life as you are. I hate being thin andtimid. You have the physical perfection that queens ought to have."
Her face was flushed with inward heat as she listened to his strangewords, which sprang, she feared, from the heart of a man hopelessly ill;but she again protested. "It's all right to be able to throw a rope andride a mean horse, but you have got something else--something I can neverget. Learning is a thousand times finer than muscle."
"Learning does not compensate for nine-inch shoulders and spindle legs,"he answered. "But I'm going to get well. Knowing you has given me reneweddesire to be a man. I'm going to ride and rough it, and sleep out ofdoors till I can follow you anywhere. You'll be proud of me before themonth is out. But I'm going to cut the Meeker outfit. I won't subjectmyself to their vulgarities another day. Why should I? It's false pridein me to hang on up there any longer."
"Of course you can come here," she said. "Mother will be glad to haveyou, although our ranch isn't a bit pretty. Perhaps father will send youout with one of the rangers as a fire-guard. I'll ask him to-night."
"I wish you would. I like these foresters. What I've seen of them. Iwouldn't mind serving under a man like Landon. He's fine."
Upon this pleasant conference Cliff Belden unexpectedly burst. Pushingthe door open with a slam, he confronted Berrie with dark and angryface.
"Why, Cliff, where did you come from?" she asked, rising in someconfusion. "I didn't hear you ride up."
"Apparently not," he sneeringly answered. "I reckon you were too muchoccupied."
She tried to laugh away his black mood. "That's right, I was. I'm chiefcook to-day. Come in and sit down. Mother's gone to town, and I'm playingher part," she explained, ignoring his sullen displeasure. "Cliff, thisis Mr. Norcross, who is visiting Uncle Joe. Mr. Norcross, shake handswith Mr. Belden." She made this introduction with some awkwardness, forher lover's failure to even say, "Howdy," informed her that his jealousheart was aflame, and she went on, quickly: "Mr. Norcross dropped in onhis way to the post-office, and I'm collecting a snack for him."
Recognizing Belden's claims upon the girl, Wayland rose. "I must begoing. It's a long ride over the hill."
"Come again soon," urged Berrie; "father wants to see you."
"Thank you. I will look in very shortly," he replied, and went out withsuch dignity as he could command, feeling, however, very much like a dogthat has been kicked over the threshold.
Closing the door behind him, Belden turned upon the girl. "What's thatconsumptive 'dogie' doing here? He 'peared to be very much at home withyou--too dern much at home!"
She was prepared for his displeasure, but not for words like these. Sheanswered, quietly: "He just dropped in on his way to town, and he's not adogie!" She resented his tone as well as his words.
"I've heard about you taking him over to Meeker's and lending him youronly slicker," he went on; "but I didn't expect to find him sittin' herelike he owned you and the place. You're taking altogether too much painswith him. Can't he put his own horse out? Do you have to go to the stablewith him? You never did have any sense about your actions with men.You've all along been too free of your reputation, and now I'm going totake care of it for you. I won't have you nursin' this runt any longer!"
She perceived now the full measure of his base rage, and her face grewpale and set. "You're making a perfect fool of yourself, Cliff," shesaid, with portentous calmness.
"Am I?" he asked.
"You sure are, and you'll see it yourself by and by. You've no call toget wire-edged about Mr. Norcross. He's not very strong. He's justgetting well of a long sickness. I knew a chill would finish him, that'swhy I gave him my slicker. It didn't hurt me, and maybe it saved hislife. I'd do it again if necessary."
"Since when did you start a hospital for Eastern tenderfeet?" he sneered;then his tone changed to one of downright command. "You want to cut thisall out, I tell you! I won't have any more of it! The boys up at the millare all talkin' about your interest in this little whelp, and I'm gettingthe branding-iron from every one I meet. Sam saw you go into the barnwith that dude, and _that_ would have been all over the countryto-morrow, if I hadn't told him I'd sew his mouth up if he said a wordabout it. Of course, I don't think you mean anything by this coddlin'."
"Oh, thank you," she interrupted, with flaming, quick, indignant fury."That's mighty nice of you. I went to the barn to show Mr. Norcross whereto stall his horse. I didn't know Sam was here."
He sneered: "No, I bet you didn't."
She fired at this. "Come now! Spit it out! Something nasty is in yourmind. Go on! What have I done? What makes you so hot?"
He began to weaken. "I don't accuse you of anything. I--but I--"
"Yes you do--in your heart you distrust me--you just as much as saidso!"<
br />
He was losing his high air of command. "Never mind what I said, Berrie,I--"
She was blazing now. "But I _do_ mind--I mind a whole lot--I didn't thinkit of you," she added, as she realized his cheapness, his coarseness. "Ididn't suppose you could even _think_ such things of me. I don't likeit," she repeated, and her tone hardened, "and I guess you'd better pullout of here--for good. If you've no more faith in me than that, I wantyou to go and never come back."
"You don't mean that!"
"Yes, I do! You've shown this yellow streak before, and I'm tired of it.This is the limit. I'm done with you."
She stood between tears and benumbing anger now, and he was scared."Don't say that, Berrie!" he pleaded, trying to put his arm about her.
"Keep away from me!" She dashed his hands aside. "I hate you. I neverwant to see you again!" She ran into her own room and slammed the doorbehind her.
Belden stood for a long time with his back against the wall, the heat ofhis resentment utterly gone, an empty, aching place in his heart. Hecalled her twice, but she made no answer, and so, at last, he mounted hishorse and rode away.