CHAPTER II
CERTAIN COMPLICATIONS RESULT
Many authorities assert that a man's looks count for nothing in thepursuit of women and the game of love. And they seem to have the rightsof the matter. Citations can be had in plenty. Take the case of the LazyL boss. Floyd was not unlike an amiable gorilla. Well over the two-scoremark in years, he rambled somewhat in his shape. In the first place, hisshoulders were too broad for his height, and his jaw and mouth wereentirely too wide. Moreover, his legs had the liveliest scorn one forthe other. The boss always compelled interest and respect, it is true;but so does a bulldog. Yet he owned the Lazy L and all its herds; he hadthe prettiest wife in the country, and there were those who said sheadored him; and he had a son and heir, two years old. All of which setLafe to marveling over the inscrutable contrivings of Providence.
It was seven miles from the shipping pens to the ranch, another seven tothe Tracey home. Consequently the widow stayed to supper, though itmeant enduring Floyd's cold scrutiny for an hour of chat. The boss wascivil to her in a heavy, formal way, bestowing sidelong looks when hewas persuaded she could not see him. However, there was a full moon andit would fall to Johnson to take her home. She was a persevering woman.
Floyd presented himself to his wife on the second day and said, in hisusual blunt style: "Sally, better be decent to that fellow Johnson. Willyou?"
"Why, sure, Tom. What's got into your head now?"
"Some of this last bunch of cattle are awful poor stuff. Where thetarnation Reb picked up these brindles and swaybacks and old, hippedlong-horns beats me. Lafe will cut 'em all back. He'll just go throughthat herd like a prairie fire. So keep him in a good humor, Sally, willyou? Is it a go?"
"Tom, you're dreadful. Do you think I'll help you cheat Mr. Horne byflirting with Lafe? You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Tom Floyd."
"Who asked you to flirt? I've seen you mighty handy with them eyes ofyours on other fellows, without being asked," he said good-humoredly.
"Oh, what a lie, Tom! I won't. Remember, I won't."
But, being a good wife, she did.
Autumn was rattling the dry bones of summer, and she and Johnson rodetogether every day. A keen southwest wind swirled the dead grass andleaves about their horses' feet. He would listen to her chatter by thehour, watching the pink grow in her cheeks. Lafe was very good-humored,indeed. With the improvement in his circumstances had come a markedimprovement in appearance. He had imported what is known as a"hand-me-down" suit at the cost of a week's pay, and he took apardonable pride in it, for the reason that the tailors expressly statedin their advertising that they catered only to gentlemen of refinedtastes. Also, he had done some trafficking with Buffalo Jim, therebyobtaining a pair of whole boots.
"She and Johnson rode together every day."]
Often he spent hours with the baby Tommy, fashioning him ridiculousplaythings, and tumbling on the ground for the child's delectation. AndSally gloated over Mrs. Tracey, who scarcely saw Lafe at all. Mrs. Floydlooked not an hour over eighteen.
Twice she brought Johnson up short.
"Now, Lafe, none of that. I won't listen."
Let us disregard the fruits of our experience and believe that Mrs.Floyd did not perceive what was growing in Johnson during those twoweeks of companionship, although we may be convinced that even a stupidwoman can sense it a mile off; and Mrs. Floyd was clever. But she wouldnot give ear to her own doubts.
"That widow won't get him, anyhow," she said, standing in front of amirror. She could not resist giving her hips an approving pat, and shesmiled.
One evening, as they sat on the veranda, Lafe put up a forefingerlanguidly and touched a stray curl. She dashed his hand away.
"It's just as black and silky as ever," he said.
"Perhaps. But you keep your hands off! Do you hear?" Then she added:"There's no gray in it, anyhow."
Just for whom this shaft was meant will ever remain a profound mystery.Both Lafe and Mrs. Tracey had gray in their hair. That night Sally wasdemonstrative with Floyd, hanging over the back of his chair with herhands locked under his chin and her face snuggling against the top ofhis head. The boss blew clouds of smoke and seemed gently amused. Thesemanifestations of devotion had become frequent of late, but it shouldnot be hastily inferred that because Lafe was a spectator they were donefor his benefit. That could not be, because he took them with suchextraordinary fortitude. If he was harassed, Johnson stifled allexpression of his condition grandly.
Floyd was much away from home. Sometimes he was in the south, buyingstock cattle. Again, he went north and east to sell of his herds. Sallytold Lafe that he left her alone too much. Lafe coughed and saidsomething unintelligible, and lighted a cigarette.
"What did you say?" she asked sharply.
"When a feller is getting old and ain't got long to live--"
"You quit that kind of talk right now. I won't stand for it."
It was the first time she had been really angry at any of his frequentsallies concerning Floyd, and it put them at once on a differentfooting. The safe frankness of raillery was gone.
Alas, that Lafe could draw the line so sharply between business and thecourtesies of leisure hours. A trail herd arrived. They plied Johnsonwith strong drink and worked in relays to get him drunk. He partooksociably, but without noticeable impairment of his faculties, and he cutthe herd ruthlessly to a remnant. The boss grew dizzy figuring hislosses and departed from the roundup, unable to endure the spectaclewithout interference, leaving instructions to be notified when the foolwas done.
"I'm working for Horne," said Lafe cheerfully. "Did you think I couldn'ttell a two-year-old from a three, Floyd? Those boys tried to run a bunchby me."
Mrs. Tracey drove over to the Floyd headquarters twice, on mattersrelating to a recipe for a cake and certain patterns, and then asked herfriend and Mr. Johnson to dinner. She invited Floyd, too, but it wasdone so perfunctorily that Sally felt the stab and was furious. However,she went. The widow was as sleek as a kitten and wore such a secretiveair that Mrs. Floyd had much ado to keep her temper during the meal.Afterward, Mrs. Tracey excused herself for a few minutes on some pretextand left them alone in the sitting-room. When she had to pass through onher way upstairs, she hurried as though intruding, and said: "Oh, I begyour pardon!"
"The cat!" Mrs. Floyd cried, gritting her teeth.
"There wasn't no call for her to say that?"
"Of course there wasn't, booby. That doesn't make it any better. Itmakes it worse."
Two days later: "Now guess what?"
"I done quit guessing," Johnson answered.
"That Tracey woman tried to tell me this morning that my Tom was toofriendly with one of those Baptismo girls."
"Pshaw!" said Lafe. "Pshaw! What does she want to go and tell them liesfor? What good does it do?"
"You don't see?"
"I reckon I'm dull."
"Oh, you great baby!" Mrs. Floyd gurgled delightedly.
This display of malice disturbed Lafe greatly. Such weapons were beyondhis knowledge and capacity, and he felt hotly uncomfortable when Sallyintimated that they might expect Mrs. Tracey to be talking of themnext--if, indeed, she had not done so already. She was for going toRowdy Canon without delay to bestow a tongue-lashing on the widow.
"What's the use?" the cowboy said. "Her talk can't hurt nobody. They allknow you."
"Some people will believe her."
"Some people will do anything. Never bother with poor trash, Sally. Itdon't matter what that kind thinks. Leave her be. What can you expectfrom a pig but a grunt?"
That was no way to speak of a lady, but Mrs. Floyd jumped from her chairand cried "Goody!", greatly consoled. Just before the evening meal, sheput on a pink dress for which Lafe had professed admiration, and partedher hair in the middle. Had there been a woman within seven miles, shewould not have done this, but Lafe liked it that way. So also did herhusband, for that matter.
"As if I'd get jealous of Tom!" she sniffed. "Huh! you won't get Laf
ethat way, my lady."
I have said that they rode together every day. Sometimes Floyd watchedthe two meditatively. His instructions were being carried out--no doubtof that--and Johnson was good-natured. But the boss was a silent man andopposed no objection. As for Sally, if she gave it a thought at all, sheprobably found justification in a dozen reasons a woman wouldappreciate, which are beyond male ken.
Lafe helped her down from her horse late one afternoon, though sheneeded no help. And he held her for just the fraction of a second. Shestiffened with an injured air, but she did not reprove him. On anotheroccasion--they were on the veranda and it was growing to dusk--afterstaring helplessly at her for a full quarter of an hour, while shepurposely said as little as possible and toyed with the lace of herhandkerchief, her head on one side that he might get the benefit of herprofile--suddenly he seized her in his arms and tried to kiss her. Hedid, in fact, obtain the merest peck at the tip of her ear.
"You darn fool!" she said, tearing loose.
Then she saw his face, and went hastily indoors and huddled in a chairin a dark corner. She sat there until called to supper, striving to fixrecent happenings in proper sequence.
After putting the baby to bed, she beckoned Lafe on to the veranda. Hermanner was hurried.
"Lafe, you've got to go away. You've got to go to-morrow."
"Why? I can't, Sally. There's three thousand more--"
"You must! You must! Can't you see? You've got to go. We're--"
"Sure, I see," he said. It was very dark and he came closer. "You care!That's what it is. You used to, Sally, and you do now."
"Lafe, let me go! Please--please!"
She broke away and gained the door. She was panting. In the lightedentrance, she looked back.
"You've got to go to-morrow, remember," she said faintly.
But he did not go on the morrow. Floyd was astir before dawn--he usuallyfell asleep on a sofa immediately after his supper, thereby gaining afew hours on everyone else--and rode away with ten men to bring up thelast herd of the sixteen thousand head he would ship.
Sally was distrait and restless all day. She punished the baby forupsetting a pitcher, and then ordered the Mexican nurse to take him andkeep him out of her sight. Johnson stayed away from the house and busiedhimself at the corrals, where some newly purchased mules were beingbroken to harness for his employer. He never gave an order, yet the boysobeyed his slow-voiced suggestions with the same promptitude they gaveto the boss's crisp commands. Lafe could always get obedience withoutvisible exercise of authority. He knew his business and followed itwithout fluster.
At sunset, a cloud of dust whirled madly across country, with the rainclose behind it. Sally ate alone--Lafe had evidently stayed at thebunkhouse--and she felt vaguely resentful. About nine she tucked thechild into his bed and went out on to the veranda. The wind was dying,and the rain fell in a soft, steady murmur.
Johnson came running along the pathway and took the steps at a jump. Hewas wet, but jeered at her suggestion that he change.
"Only got this one suit," he said. "If it gets to shrinking much more onme, I'll have for to steal a blanket to-morrow, Sally."
He took a chair beside her and they watched the lightning play above theblack jumble of hills to the east. Sally uttered hardly a syllable.When she spoke at all, the words came jerkily. Lafe leaned over once tobrush some sparks of his cigarette from his coat. A delicate perfumereached him.
"The river," he said, clearing his throat, "the river'll be way up.Bridge is like to go out."
"I'm afraid so. Oh, dear! Tom promised he'd come home to-night, too."
"Come home to-night? Why, it's thirty miles."
"I know it. But he's never failed to keep his word yet," she said.
"He won't come home to-night."
A writhing fork of lightning leaped from east to north. There was nothunder. They sat tensely quiet and the rain dripped sadly from theroof.
"No, he won't come home to-night," he said in a hoarse voice. "Hecan't."
"Sally!" he breathed, bending toward her. "Sally!"