Bat Wing Bowles

by Dane Coolidge

  CHAPTER XVIII

  THE ROUGH-RIDERS

  Brigham Clark's squirrel-skin story was not calculated to build up the_entente cordial_ with Texas, but Brigham was no trimmer. The only kindof fighting he knew was to stand up and strike from the shoulder, and afew cracks about Mormon marital customs had not tended to lighten theblow. Numerically he was outnumbered by the Texans, but when it came toa contest of wits he did not need any help. He went off to bed now,laughing, and to all of Bowles' chidings he turned an unheeding ear.

  "Let 'em roar," he said. "It's no skin off my nose. Them fellers hasbeen cavin' round and givin' off head long enough--I sure capped 'em inon that, all right. Well, let 'em rough-house me if they want to--they'stwo can play at that game. I never seen the Texan yet that looked bad tome. And if they git too gay the boss will fire the whole caboodle. Iain't lookin' fer trouble, but no bunch of ignorant Texicans can run itover _me_! Umph-umm!"

  So the feud went on, and when Dixie rode into camp with the mail shesmelled war in the very air. The men walked past each other with thewary glances of fighting dogs, and even her little comedy at thedelivering of the letters failed to visibly lighten the gloom. A privateinterview with the cook, who carefully kept out of the ruction and gaveneither side comfort nor succor, revealed the fact that the situationwas serious; and with the success of the round-up at stake, Dixie Maywas quick to act. When her father returned to his dog tent atsupper-time he found her war-bag inside, and with a mount of horses cutout for her, Dixie Lee took on for a cowboy.

  They were up on the cedar ridges of the mountains now, driving down wildsteers from the upper pastures, and a woman was as good as a man. Dixiewas better than most, for she had ridden those rough mesas before andcould drift off a ridge like a blacktail. Her desperate rivalry in thechase fired the hearts of the most malingering, and more than onemoss-headed old outlaw found himself outgeneraled and flogged into theherd. And a steer is a steer these days--he is worth as much as a horse.

  Every morning as the punchers set out on the long circle Dixie Maypicked out a man to dare, and several prairie-bred Texans failed tofollow her over the rocks. Mounted on the best horses in the remuda,knowing the ways of wild cattle and the lay of the land ahead, she tookafter the first puff of dust she saw and followed it till she smelledsmoke. If her steer turned back, she ran him down and roped him, and ifher escort did not show up by that time, she hog-tied her catch and wenton. It was a wild, free life, and she threw herself into it recklessly,glorying in the unholy joy of beating them at their own game. She rodewith Brigham, and Hardy Atkins; uncouth mountain men, and raw-bonednester kids; and finally, when the time was ripe, she picked out Bowles.

  Bowles was mounted on his top horse, Wa-ha-lote, and he rode proudlyalong behind Brigham, for in the rough and tumble of cross-countryrunning he was holding his own with the best. A bunch of wild cattlesprang up suddenly from their hiding place on a far point; for a momentthey stood staring, their ears silhouetted against the sky, and the keeneyes of the straw-boss read their earmarks like a book.

  "They's two Bat Wing steers in that bunch," he said. "Head 'em off,Bowles, and drive 'em down the canon!"

  Then Bowles leaned forward in his saddle and raced them for the highground. He headed them, and they doubled to beat him back. Once more heheaded them off, while the outfit went on with its circle, and just asthey stopped to look him over again he saw a horse coming down on hisright. It was Dixie, mounted on her favorite roan, and she motioned tohim to swing around on the left. Then the riding began all over again,for the steers were wild as bucks and they knew every trail on thebench; but the shod horses were too fast for them over the rocks, and astheir hoofs began to get hot from the friction they turned and dashedfor the rim.

  From the high ridge where the circle was led, to the bottom canon wherethe hold-up herd lay, the land fell away in three benches, each a littlenarrower, each a little steeper at the jump-off--and Bowles and DixieLee went over the first pitch hot-foot on the heels of their quarry.They raced back and forth on the second terrace, trying to head thecattle down a natural trail; but now a wild, self-destroying panic cameupon them and they took off over the rough ground.

  "I'll dare you to follow me!" cried Dixie, turning her eager roan afterthem; and helter-skelter over the rough rocks, swinging and duckingunder trees and jumping over boulders and bushes, she went spurringafter the cattle. Behind her came Bowles, his eyes big with excitement,staring at her madcap riding with the fear of death in his heart. Downover the rough jump-off they went, the dust and smoke fromfriction-burnt hoofs striking hot in their faces as they rode, and bythe grace of God somehow they reached the bench below.

  "Don't ride over there!" he entreated, as the cattle scampered on towardthe last pitch; but Dixie laughed at him, loud and shrill.

  "Will you take a dare?" she taunted, raising her quirt to strike; andbefore Bowles could say a word, Wa-ha-lote grabbed the bit and wentafter her like a rocket. Whatever his master thought, it was outside ofWa-ha-lote's simple code to let any horse give him his dust. Wild withterror and excitement, the big steers made straight for the jump-off,which was high and steep; over they went, with Dixie after them, andthen, like a bolt from behind, Wa-ha-lote leaped over the rampart andwent plowing down the slope. Twice he jumped as he came to dykes ofrock, and Bowles stayed with him like a hurdler; then, with a lightningscramble over the loose stones, he took the trail from the roan and wentpounding down the hill.

  Tree limbs reached down to brush Bowles off, sharp stubs threatenedmomentarily to snag his legs, and boulders to dash his brains out if hefell, but the lion-hearted Wa-ha-lote had asserted his mastery andBowles could only hang on. At the bottom of the slide they crashedthrough a dead-limbed cedar, sending the bone-dry sticks flying in everydirection; and when Bowles swung up into the saddle he was thunderingacross the flat and the steers were at his bits. Vague wisps of smoke,white and smelling like a blacksmith-shop, leaped up as the harriedbrutes skated over the rocks, and Bowles knew that his battle was won.Once in the soft sand of the creek bed they would never turn back to theheights, for their feet were worn to the quick. But it had been a hardrace--even Wa-ha-lote was slowing down, and Dixie Lee was nowhere insight.

  A sudden doubt assailed Bowles, and he tugged sharply at the bit; hepulled down to a walk and looked behind; then, as he saw no sign, hestopped short and let the cattle go. For a tense minute he listenedwhile Wa-ha-lote puffed like a steamboat; then, with a grave look on hisface, he turned and rode back up the hill.

  "O Miss Lee!" he shouted. "Dixie!"

  And a thin answer came from the slope above.

  "Catch my horse!" it said. "He's down in the gulch!"

  Bowles stared about and caught sight of the red roan's hide as he stoodbehind some trees; then, with his rope about its neck, he went spurringup the hill.

  Dixie Lee was lying very awkwardly among the rocks at the foot of ascrubby juniper, and at the first glance Bowles knew she was hurt. Notonly was her hat gone and her stout skirt ripped and torn, but her facewas very pale and her lips drawn tight together.

  "Horse fell with me," she said, greeting him with a fleeting smile;"hurt my knee right bad. First time I've known him to do that--say, helpme out of these rocks."

  Very tenderly Bowles reached down and raised her to her feet; then, withone arm about his neck, she tried to hobble away, but at the second hopshe paused.

  "Nope--hurts too bad," she said; "put me down."

  But Bowles did nothing of the kind. He took her up in his strong youngarms and carried her down the hill. He even wished it were farther, butshe spied a bed of leaves under a cedar and ordered him to put herthere. Then she looked up at him curiously and for a while lay verystill.

  "What you got there?" she inquired, as he came back holding his hat, andBowles showed her a crownful of water that he had brought from a pool inthe gulch.

  "Ah!" sighed Dixie, and drank out of it without scruple, long and deep."Say, that's good," she said; "now pour some on m
y hands--they're allscratched up." He did that too, and loaned her his neck handkerchief tosop up the last of the wet.

  "Well, it's a wonder you wouldn't ask a few questions," she observed atlength, bathing her grimy face with the handkerchief. "'How did ithappen?' or 'How're you feeling?' or something like that!"

  She smiled naturally at him now, fluffing out her dark hair that hunglike an Indian's in heavy braids; and Bowles' face lighted up and thenflushed a rosy red.

  "I see you are feeling better," he said, sitting down off to one side,and decorously regarding his wet hat, "so how did it happen?"

  "Well," began Dixie, ruefully inspecting her torn hands, "all I canremember is feeling my horse going down and jerking my feet out of thestirrups--then I fetched up in that juniper. I scrambled out the minuteI struck--afraid old Rufus would fall on me--and that's where I hurt myknee--I bumped it against a rock."

  She felt the injured limb over carefully and shook her head.

  "I'm afraid I can't travel on that for a while," she said. "So get meyour coat to put under it and prop it up, and we'll talk about somethingpleasant. It'll be all right, I reckon, after I rest a while, but thatfall certainly jarred me up.

  "Say," she observed, as Bowles came back with his coat, "that was prettygood, wasn't it, what I was telling you the other day--about nursing youback to health and strength. Looks like you're the nurse, the way itturns out. But you're going to make a good one," she went on, as hetucked the coat under her knee; "I can see that. Now, most people, whenyou get a hurt, or a fall, or something, they come rushing up to whereyou're making faces and ask a lot of foolish questions--'Are you hurt?'and 'Did you fall?' and all that, until you want to kill 'em. But youhaven't hardly said a word."

  "No," said Bowles, blushing and looking away. "I'm awfully sorry youfell--hope I didn't make you. Is there anything more I can do?"

  "Oh, that's all right," she assured him. "We all take a fall once in awhile. I feel kind of weak and trifling right now--but don't go! No, Iwant you here for company!"

  Bowles had stood up on a pretext of looking after the horses, but Dixiewas firm.

  "No, you stay," she said, as he explained that she might wish to bealone. "You're out West now, Bowles, and you remember what Hardy Atkinstold you--'if a lady asks you to take a letter, _take it_!' Of course,that was none of Hardy's business, but that's the rule out here, and Iwant you to come back and sit down. No, not away over there--I want youright up close!"

  Bowles came back as readily as a dog, but he did not sit very close. Forsome reason unknown to himself he assumed that she would be embarrassed,not only by their isolated position but by the intimacies which hadarisen between them. Moved by a strong and humane purpose, he hadgathered her up in his arms and carried her down the hill; but hardlyhad he felt her arm about his neck, her breath against his cheek, andher heart against his breast, when the dimensions of his world hadsuddenly narrowed down, and there was only Dixie Lee and him. And now hewas still dazed and breathless, afraid of himself, and not trusting inhis strength--and yet he would do anything to please her.

  "Come on over here," she coaxed, patting the leaves by her side, andBowles came as near as he dared. "Now tell me some stories," she said,settling back and closing her eyes. "Ah, this will be fine--tell mesomething interesting, so I can forget that knee. It sure aches--when Ithink about it--but I believe there's something in mind-cure. Go aheadand talk. Where'd you learn to ride so well?"

  "Oh, that?" beamed Bowles. "Do you think I can ride? Well, I'm not sobad, over the rocks, you know. I used to ride to the hounds. We chasedfoxes through the woods, leaping stone walls and five-bar gates and allthat, and, really, I used to enjoy it. Nothing like cow-punching, ofcourse, but great sport all the same. I remember once we were out atClarendon----"

  He fell into the details of a fox hunt--the first time he had spoken ofhis past life--and Dixie was careful not to interrupt him. Then he toldof his life in the military school, where they taught boys thecavalryman's craft, and Dixie lay quiet and listened. If her knee hurtshe did not know it, for she was piecing out his career. School,college, country club, one after the other he alluded to them, but evenin his boyish enthusiasm he was careful to mention no names; and as hewandered on with his stories Dixie Lee wondered who he was. Certainly noinconsiderable man in his own country, and yet here he was, an ordinaryhired hand, punching cows for forty-five a month. But why? And if he hadfollowed her to the end of the world to win her heart, why did he nottalk of love to her, now that they were there together? And when he hadtaken her in his arms, when he had carried her under the tree and pulledoff her boot and tucked his coat under her knee, why had there been nocaress, no look, no unnecessary attentions to show that he really cared?Dixie May opened her eyes and gazed out at him through half-closedlashes, and somehow she liked him better--he seemed to be different fromthe rest.

  "Mr. Bowles," she said at last, "you're an awfully interesting man, butthere are some things I can't understand. There's something mysteriousabout you. I know you must be all right, because I met you at Mrs.Melvine's, but at the same time you're hiding out like an ordinaryhorse-stealing Texican. What are you up to, anyway?"

  "Why, I thought you knew all about that," explained Bowles, the oldbaffling smile coming back into his eyes. "Don't you remember, I toldyou about it on the train?"

  "Yes, I remember, all right," answered Dixie. "But you didn't tell mevery much--and then you told me different at Chula Vista. I thought Ihad a line on you once, but you're too deep for me. What's this I hearabout a girl?"

  "A girl?" repeated Bowles, with questioning gravity. "Why, what do youmean? What did you hear?"

  "A girl back in New York," continued Dixie, glancing at him shrewdly asshe hazarded a guess--and as she gazed he flushed and looked away.

  "Whatever you have heard," he said at last, "I have nothing to beashamed of--would you like me to get you some water?"

  "Aw, Mr. Bowles," cried Dixie reproachfully, "are you trying toside-step me on this?"

  "No, indeed!" replied Bowles, settling back with masterful calm. "Whatis it you have heard--and what would you like to know?"

  He paused and regarded her expectantly, and Dixie saw that she wascalled. A shadow passed over her face; a shadow of annoyance, and ofsuspicion, perhaps, as well; but she felt the rebuke of his franknessand pursued her inquiry no further.

  "Well, perhaps you are right," she said, as if answering an unspokenreproof. "It was nothing to your discredit, Mr. Bowles; and I am sure itis none of my business. I guess I'm kind of spoiled out here--I get tojoshing with these cowboys until I don't know anything else. I believe Iwould like that drink."

  Bowles leaped up promptly at the word and came back with his new hatfull of water. He held it for her to drink, and as she finished andlooked up she saw that his eyes were troubled.

  "Oh, dear!" she cried impulsively, "have I made you any trouble? You'vebeen so good to me here--what have I gone and done now?"

  "Oh, it's not you at all," he assured her, and then his voice broke andhe faltered. "But have you really heard from New York?"

  "Why, no, Mr. Bowles," soothed Dixie, laying her hand on his arm. "Not aword--I don't know anything about you--I was only making it up."

  "Oh!" said Bowles, and drew his arm away. He looked out at the horsesfor a moment, poured the water out of his hat, and turned back, his oldsmiling self.

  "How is your knee now?" he inquired kindly. "Do you think you can ride?I suppose we ought to be going pretty soon."

  Dixie glanced over at him and her heart sank--she had observed thesesudden changes in Bowles before, and even his boyish smile could notlighten the veiled rebuke. When Bowles had thoughts that wereanti-social he was always unusually kind, and his way of expressingdisapproval was to tactfully change the subject. And now he was talkingof going! Dixie scowled and felt of her knee, and rose stiffly to herfeet.

  "Well, if you're in such a hurry," she sulked; but Bowles was at herside in an instant.

  "Oh
, my dear Miss Lee!" he cried, catching her as she poised for a limp."Please don't do that! Let me carry you, when the time comes, but wewill rest as long as you please."

  He passed a compelling arm about her and lowered her gently to herplace; then he sat down beside her, and breathed hard as he set herfree.

  "Really," he murmured, "we don't seem to understand each other verywell, Miss Lee!"

  "That's because neither one of us is telling the truth!" observed Dixiewith a certain bitterness.

  They sat for a moment in silence, and then she turned about and lookedhim squarely in the eye.

  "Mr. Bowles," she said, in measured tones, "who are you, anyway?"

  "Who--me?" parried Bowles, lapsing into the vernacular. "Why, you knowme! I'm Bowles, the gentleman you met at Mrs. Melvine's."

  "There! You see?" commented Dixie. "You're afraid to tell your own name,and I'm----"

  "Yes?" questioned Bowles.

  "Well, I don't know what I'm afraid of," she went on bluntly, "but I'vegot _something_ on my mind."

  "Why, surely," began Bowles, apprehensively, "I--I hope I haven't givenoffense in any way. You were hurt, you know--and I was a littleexcited--and----"

  "Oh, that's all right," said Dixie heartily. "You're a perfectgentleman--I always knew that. But you haven't had much to do withwomen, have you, Mr. Bowles?"

  Her voice trailed off a little at the close, and Bowles looked up at hermystified. He thought quickly, wondering where she was leading him, anddecided to tell the truth.

  "Why, no, Miss Lee," he stammered, "I suppose not. I hope I haven't----"

  "Oh, no, no!" cried Dixie. "I don't mean that. I was justthinking--well, I mustn't take advantage of you, then."

  She favored him with one of her sudden, tantalizing smiles, and hisbrain whirled as he looked away.

  "No," he muttered, taking a deep breath; "it wouldn't be fair, youknow."

  "Well, go and cinch up my horse, then," she said, "and I'll make anexception of you."

  He looked up at her suddenly, startled by the way she spoke, and went todo her will.

  "Now," he announced, when the horse was ready, "shall I help you whileyou mount?"

  "Why, yes," she said, "if you think it's safe!"

  And then he gathered her into his arms.

  "I'll be careful," he said. But the devil tempted him--and Dixie forgotand smiled.

  "Never mind," she whispered, as he lifted her to the saddle; "that wasto pay you for being nurse."