Bat Wing Bowles

by Dane Coolidge

  CHAPTER XXIII

  THE CUSTOM OF THE COUNTRY

  When Bat Wing Bowles got up out of the dirt he was shaken in body andspirit. His corporeal frame felt as if it had been passed through acarpet-beater, and he had lost some of his most precious illusions.Certainly, if there was any way by which a tenderfoot might hope toachieve a little hard-earned fame in the Far West, it was not by ridingbronks; and now, before he could wipe the blood from his nose, they wereblaming him for all their troubles.

  "The blank-blanked greenhorn!" cursed Hardy Atkins, pacing to and froand gazing at the hulk of Dunbar. "I _tol'_ 'im to keep off that hawse!Never would've let 'im rode 'im--not for a thousand dollars! And then,the minute my back's turned--and Dix right there to copper the play--hegoes and pulls off _this_! But I don't care--_I_ never done nothin'! Youboys seen 'im--he done it himse'f!"

  And then, all the anger and blood-lust that had been in Bowles' heartfor days went suddenly to his right hand, and, putting his shoulderbehind it, he smote the ex-twister on the jaw. It was a wicked blow,very much like the one he had received himself, and it laid the falsecow-puncher low. He came up reaching for his gun, and Bowles knocked himdown again, and took the gun away. Then he passed it on to Brigham, andoffered to fight him some more--or anybody! A raging devil of combatseemed to possess him, and he shouted for war, and more war. The cowboysdrew away from him as from a man who has lost his right mind, and it wasnot until Brigham had cajoled him into dipping his hot head into thehorse-trough that Bowles left off his raving. A drink of Mr. Mosby'sstrong coffee, and a rest on his bed by the sheds, and his sanity wascompletely restored--but his illusions were lost forever!

  Never again would Samuel Bowles try to beat the cow-puncher at his owngame; never would he mount a wild horse; and never would he put faith inwomankind. Not out West, anyway. To be sure, Dixie Lee had saved himfrom the man-killer, but she had done it in such a way as to injure hispride irreparably. And if anybody had cooled his fevered brow after theaccident, it certainly was not Dixie, but Brigham Clark, when he duckedhis head in the horse-trough. A sudden aversion to his surroundings--astern dislike for sentiment and the Bat Wing--came over Bowles as he laymoping in his blankets, and, rising on his elbow, he called to Brigham.

  "Brig," he said, "I'm going to quit this accursed ranch--would you mindcatching my private horse?"

  "No, ner mine neither!" fulminated Brig. "I jest been waitin' fer ye tosay the word--been ready myse'f fer a week!"

  He hopped on his horse as he spoke, and rode out into the pasture, andas he returned with their private mounts Gloomy Gus came over from thefire.

  "What ye goin' to do, Brig," he inquired; "quit?"

  "Yep," answered Brig, as he lashed their beds on his spare horse;"gittin' too bad fer me. Next thing you know, somebody'd git killed."

  "That's right," agreed Gus gloomily; "gittin' pretty bad around hyer.Cow-punchin' ain't what it used to be. Well, I'm sorry to see you go."

  He put them up a lunch and watched them off, and then turned back to hispots and kettles, grumbling and shaking his head.

  That was their only farewell, but as they rode out the gate, Dixie Leeappeared at the big house door and looked after them as they passed.Their mounts alone told the story of their departure, and their beds onthe horse behind; but though she knew they were quitting, she stoodsilent and made no sign.

  "Want to say good-by?" inquired Brig, glancing up at her from under hishat, but Bowles did not reply. A deadly apathy had succeeded hispassion, and he was sullen and incapable of higher thoughts. All hewanted now was to get away--after that he could think what to do.

  They turned their horses' heads toward Chula Vista, where they must goto draw their time, and after they had ridden a mile Bowles suddenlyturned in his saddle--but Dixie had passed inside. A deep and melancholysadness came over him now, and he sighed as he slumped down in his seat,but Brigham did not notice his silence. At noon they ate as they rode,getting a drink at a nester's windmill, and at night they camped by awell. Then it was that Bowles woke up from his brooding and saw that hewas not alone in his mood--Brigham, too, was downcast and wrapt up inhis thoughts. His mind ran quickly back to ascertain the cause, and heremembered the cherished job.

  For one short, eventful month Brigham Clark had been a boss. Astraw-boss, to be sure, but still a boss--and now he had lost his job.Never again, perhaps, would he rise to the proud eminence of a"straw"--and yet he had quit his place instantly to throw in his lotwith him. A wave of compassion and self-reproach swept over Bowles atthe thought, and he forgot his own ugly mood.

  "Brig," he said, as they sat close to their tiny fire, "I'm sorry youhad to quit. If it hadn't been for me, and Hardy Atkins, you'd be backthere now, on your job. It might have led to something better, too. Mr.Lee often said----"

  "Aw, fergit it," grumbled Brig morosely. "_I_ didn't want the job.What's the use of bein' a puncher, anyway? They's nothin' in it but hardwork. I've got a good mind to hike back to the Gila and go to pitchin'hay."

  "Well, if I'm in your way at all," urged Bowles, "don't hesitate to sayso. I only proposed this White Mountain trip----"

  "Oh, that's all right," broke in Brig. "I'll be glad to git away from itall--git where they ain't no girls, nor mail, nor nothin'. Up there inthem big pine trees where a man can fergit his troubles. But I want togo back past the Bat Wing. I told Dix all about it last week, and Ishore want to bid her good-by. There's a good girl--Dix--but she can'tunderstand. She says if I had any nerve I'd go and take a chance--marrythe girl and wait and see what happened to me--my girl down on theriver, you know."

  Bowles nodded gravely and waited for him to go on. It was a month sinceBrigham had spoken of his girl, and he had never discussed the affairsince that first rush of confidences, until now suddenly he dived intothe midst of it.

  "No," continued Brig, gazing mournfully at his dead cigarette; "Dix isall right, but she don't know them Mormons like I do. She don't knowwhat they're liable to do. This feller that's tryin' to marry my girl isthe bishop's own son--he's that feller I beat up so bad when I took tothe hills a while back--and he's bound to do me dirt. My girl won'tmarry me, nohow--not lessen I become a Mormon--and shore as you'resettin' there, boy, if I take that gal from the bishop's son, I'melected to go on a mission!

  "I know it! Hain't the old man got it in fer me? And then what's tobecome of my wife? Am I goin' to leave her fer two years and thatdastard a-hangin' around? Not on yore life--if they summoned me fer amission, I'd either take my wife along or I'd kill that bishop'sson--one or the other. But that's the worst of it--the bishop's kid ison the spot, and I'm hidin' out like a coyote. My girl keeps a-writin'like she never gets no letters, and beggin' me to come back and be good!But I can't do it--that's all--I been a renegade too long."

  "Well," suggested Bowles, after a long pause, "perhaps we could go bythat way. Maybe her folks are keeping your letters from her, orsomething like that. If there is anything I can do for you, Brig, don'thesitate to ask for it. I might go around and see her for you--or if youneed money----"

  "No," protested Brigham petulantly; "money won't buy me nothin' withher. I'm up ag'in the whole Mormon church--and if you knew half of whatI do about 'em, you'd know that you can't buck these bishops. The Mormonfolks is fine people--they'll feed you, and help you, and do anything inthe world fer you--but them priests and apostles and bishops--umph-umm!The more you know about 'em, the worse it scares you up--and I'm shoredown on their black books. No, pardner, I ain't got a chanc'st, so let'sfergit it. I talked it all over with Dix, and she kinder heartened meup; but it ain't no use. My girl don't like me enough to cut loose andquit her people, and I won't turn Mormon fer nobody--so there you are.Come on, let's go to bed!"

  It was a hard and tragic problem, and long after the fatalistic Brig hadgone to sleep, Bowles lay awake and tried to find a way out. His ownpetty griefs seemed sordid by the side of it, and all the way to town heturned it over in his mind. But, now that he had dismissed it forever,Brigham Clark became
his old carefree self again.

  "I'll tell you what we'll do!" he exclaimed, as they talked of theirtrip to the hills. "We'll hunt up old Bill Jump, and show him the latestin lies. I betcher I can make that old feller ashamed of himse'f--he'sjest one of these here common, long-haired liars that don't know nothin'but to go you one better, anyway. But you wait till I pull thatHippodrome stuff on 'im--I betcher that'll make his jaw drop. Never didgit to spring that on the boys--say, tell me that ag'in about the clownthat fished up bulldogs outer the lake--and them elephants comin' overthe waterfall! Yes, sir; if old Bill is up in them White Mountains,we'll certainly make him look sick!"

  It was a glorious thing to contemplate, and, once in town, they madehaste to lay in their supplies; but when Brigham came back from hisinterview with the boss Bowles could see that his enthusiasm had beenshaken. For reasons of his own, Bowles had preferred not to meet theLees, and he had asked Brig to convey his regrets and a release for histwo months' pay. If eighty dollars would compensate for the defunctDunbar, Mr. Bowles was satisfied; otherwise, he would be glad to meetthe difference. But the trouble in Brigham's eye was not one of dollarsand cents--he had something big on his mind.

  "Say," he said, as he beckoned Bowles to a corner of the corral, "whatd'ye think Mrs. Lee sprung on me when I went around fer my pay? And, bythe way, they was a deputy sheriff inquirin' fer you when I come out bythe desk, so come away from that gate--but what d'ye think she said?"

  "Why, I'm sure I can't imagine," answered Bowles, with his old-timecalm. "What was it?"

  "Well, she had a big yeller telegraph in her hand that she was kinderwavin' around--I never did find out what it was all about--but when Icome in to the hotel she flew at me like and says:

  "'Mr. Clark, do you know who that young man is you're travelin' with?'

  "Well, sir, the way she said it made me mad clean through, and I says toher:

  "'No, Mrs. Lee, I don't--and, what's more, I don't care! He's a goodpardner, that's all I know--and that's all I want to know!'

  "And then I turned around and walked out. I don't know what them Leeshave got to be so proud about, the way old Henry used to cave around,but I showed her, by grab, they was one puncher she couldn't run itover! She always did make me mad," observed Brig, as he stole quietglances at his friend, "but I knowed mighty well you wasn't no _crook_and--and I don't care _what_ you done!"

  "Well, thank you just as much--I haven't done anything, Brig," answeredBowles with a reassuring smile. "But," he added, "that's no reason fornot getting out of town."

  They packed their horse hurriedly, and Bowles rode on ahead, but once onthe open prairie he gave way to a hearty laugh.

  "Brig," he said, "what in the world do you think I've done?"

  "Well, I dunno," mumbled Brig, looking him over shrewdly. "Of course, Iknowed all along they was nothin' to that Christabel talk--stands toreason a man wouldn't leave home for a little thing like that. Aboutthat aunt, now, that sounds a little more likely--but I've knowedfellers that come out here jest fer fun."

  "Yes, but this deputy sheriff--and all that!"

  "We-ell," drawled Brigham, with a sly twinkle in his eye, "I heeard alittle more from him than what I told you at the first!"

  "Oh, indeed! And what else did you hear?"

  "Well----" Brig stopped and stuck his tongue in his cheek roguishly. "Hesaid it was a woman that wanted you!"

  "My aunt!" exclaimed Bowles, striking his leg; but Brig only spat andgrinned.

  "Sure!" he said, and grinned again.

  "I have it!" cried Bowles. "Mrs. Lee wrote back and told her sister Iwas here--and then my aunt began telegraphing! That telegram Mrs. Leehad was from her!"

  "Sure thing," agreed Brig; and Bowles looked up to find him smirking.

  "Well, what's the matter?" he demanded. "Say, you're pretty smart,aren't you, Brig?" he observed, with pitying scorn. "They don't put oneover on you very often, do they?"

  "No, indeedy!" swaggered Brigham; and then they both laughed--tothemselves. But the jest put an effectual end to the discussion, sinceBrigham did not know what it was he was supposed to have discovered, andBowles took no pains to enlighten him. It was enough that Brigconsidered him a very gay dog indeed, and he did not deny the softimpeachment. So, each with his satisfied smile, they jogged along acrossthe plains, dragging their pack animal behind them and heading for theBat Wing.

  All that day they rode on through the mellow sunshine, and the nextmorning found them still on their way; but just as the well-rememberedranch came into view there was a rattle of wheels from behind and theyswung out to give Henry Lee the road. He was driving the fiery grays,and they fought gamely against the delay, but he pulled them down to awalk while he handed Bowles a note.

  "Telegram for you, Mr. Bowles," he said. "Brig, stop at the ranch whenyou go by--I want to talk with you."

  There was much more that might have been said, and Mrs. Lee smiledapprovingly at Bowles, but the grays were within sight of the haystackand they cut the talk short with a bolt. Then Bowles glanced through thetelegram and thrust it into his shirt.

  "My aunt----" he began, and as the grin on Brig's face widened, hestopped short and fell into a sulk. "No use telling you anything, Brig,"he said at last; "you can guess by the color of my eye."

  "Sure!" said Brig, after a moment of baffled silence. "Yore aunt seemsto think a whole lot of you. And, speakin' about women-folks, what'sthis comin' down off the hill?"

  He nodded at the foothills to the west, and as Bowles gazed he saw DixieLee coming down the broad slope like an arrow. She was ridingWa-ha-lote, too, and at sight of that noble charger the heart of BatWing Bowles became sad--or perhaps it was at sight of Dixie. Howeverthat may be, he continued on his way with melancholy resignation; whileBrig viewed her coming with alarm.

  "Here's where I ketch hell fer somethin'!" he muttered, as she sightedhim from afar; and when she rode up and faced him he hung his head likea truant.

  "You Brig!" she said at last, whipping the hair from her eyes with onehand, "you haven't got git-up enough in you to win an Indian squaw!You'll make a lovely husband for somebody, and that's a fact--the wayyou do your courting. Who do you think is up to the big house waitingfor you?"

  "Huh?" demanded Brig, now suddenly all attention.

  "Well, she's been there for more than a day--while you were out shootingprairie-dogs. What she sees in you is more than I can say, but----"

  "Who're ye talkin' about?" barked Brigham, throwing loose hisleading-rope.

  "I'm talking about your girl," answered Dixie with Spartan directness."Here, I'll lead your pack--go ahead and show her your dust."

  "I'll do that," said Brig, leaning forward as she spoke; and, passingover the rope, he went spurring up the road.

  Dixie Lee gave Bowles a level look from beneath her tumbled hair, andtouched Wa-ha-lote with the spur. Her manner seemed to be a disclaimerof any responsibility for their being left together, and yet somehow itwas very obvious that the stage had been set for an interview. But ifDixie had any intentions, she concealed them effectually, and her mannerwas one of good-natured tolerance.

  "Well, look at that crazy fool ride," she observed, as Brig disappearedin his own dust. "You'd think from the way he travels he was the keenestlover in the world." She paused here and laughed to herself.

  "Yes, indeed!" responded Bowles, with a certain brotherly pride. "OldBrig thinks a lot of that girl."

  "Well, maybe he does," conceded Dixie; "but he certainly makes meprovoked. I declare, the way some of these men----" she paused again andbit her lip. Mr. Bowles was one of those men, too. "I reckon it's allright," she continued resignedly; "but when a woman has to ride clearover to the Gila, and propose for a man, and steal his girl for him, andthen round him up and send him in, I guess she has some excuse to speakher mind. Don't you think so, Mr. Bowles? Well, then, if your friendBrigham had had his way, he would have hit for the summit of the WhiteMountains, and his girl would have been married to a Mormon! It makes memad, Mr. Bo
wles, I declare it does! The idea of leaving that poor littlegirl over there and never going near her, when all the time she wasbegging him to come back, and her folks were reading her letters. Shecouldn't _write_ it to him--she had to _tell_ him--and he never showedup at all. Please don't apologize for him, Mr. Bowles; I'm sure there'snot a word to be said."

  Mr. Bowles bowed his head and felt very humble indeed, as if he, too, insome inexplicable way, had erred and been rebuked.

  "And now," said Dixie at last, "Father'll make Mr. Brig his wagon-boss,and they'll get married and live at the ranch. Simple, isn't it?"

  "Why, it seems so," admitted Bowles; "but how do you know he will?"

  "How do I know?" repeated Dixie, rolling her eyes on him. "Why, Mr.Bowles, have you been around the Bat Wing for two months and failed tonote who was boss? Right after you and Brigham Clark left I went downand _fired_ that Hardy Atkins--so you don't need to be bashful aboutcoming back."

  Her voice trailed off a little as she ended, and Bowles started andlooked at the ground. New worlds and vistas appeared before him, andvisions and sudden dreams--and then he was back by her side, and theroad was passing by.

  "I'm sorry," he said at last. "It's my own fault--I should haveexplained at the beginning. But now your mother has written to hersister, and she has told my aunt, and so I've got to move on. She'stelegraphing already." He showed her the yellow message and slipped itback into his pocket. "And there was a deputy sheriff inquiring for me,"he added bitterly.

  "Oh, dear!" pouted Dixie, yanking at the reluctant pack-horse. "I justknew she'd do it. Mother means well, but she's a New Yorker, and--well,I hope she's satisfied!"

  "Yes, I hope so too," added Bowles. "I never did have anything to beashamed of, but--do you know who I am?"

  "No, I don't," answered Dixie May. "And I don't care, either," sheadded, glancing across at him with clear-seeing eyes. "I always knew youwere a gentleman, and--say, what's the matter with that pack?"

  She dismounted quickly as she spoke, and Bowles dropped off to help.Then, after the ropes had been tightened, they stood silent within thecircle of their horses.

  "Mr. Bowles," began Dixie, leaning one arm on the pack and lookingthoughtfully away, "being the man you are, you--you wouldn't compel alady to apologize to you, would you?"

  "Why no, no--certainly not!" gasped Bowles, alarmed by a mistiness inher eyes.

  "Because if that's what you're going away for----"

  "Oh, my dear Miss Lee!" protested Bowles, now suddenly stirred to thedepths. "Don't think of it--not for a moment! No, indeed! I will confessthat I was a little hurt by your--but that's all right! That's allright! You don't know my aunt, do you, Miss Lee? I can't explain it toyou, but--well, she's a very determined woman, in her way, and--well,she wants me to come home."

  "Yes?"

  "Yes, and so I'd better move on. I'm sorry that Brig can't go along withme, but--well, I can go alone. Do you remember one time, when we werecoming West, I spoke about the spirit of the country--the spirit of theWest? Well, I have found it--it is to move on!"

  "And never come back?" inquired Dixie quickly.

  "Well, something like that," admitted Bowles.

  "Yes, I do remember that," responded Dixie, with a reminiscent smile. "Iremember it well. We were alone on the train and we said all kinds ofthings--I didn't know you very well then. I remember you told me once,if I'd help you find the Far West, you'd be my faithful knight--and allthat. And I helped you, too, didn't I?"

  "Why, yes!" said Bowles, puzzled by her air.

  "Well, what about being my knight?" demanded Dixie, with suddenfrankness. "You've done well out here, Mr. Bowles, but there's one thingI'm disappointed in--you don't keep the customs of the country!"

  "Why, what do you mean, Miss Lee?" inquired Bowles.

  A sudden smile illuminated Dixie's face--the same smile that had takenpossession of him when he had forgotten and stolen a kiss--and then sheturned away and blushed.

  "Well," she said, "you're the first Bat Wing man that has gone awaywithout--without proposing to me!"

  She glanced at him defiantly and folded her arms--and Bowles felt hisreason eclipsed, and the world go dark before him. A thousand riotousthoughts clamored suddenly for recognition, and his brain reeled at theshock. Then he opened his eyes, and she was still smiling at him, butthe smile had a twinkle of mischief in it. The memory of her legion ofsuitors came over him now, and her carefree, jesting ways, and he becameof a sudden calm. They had all proposed, and she had led them on, andthen she had told them no. But she should never deal that ignominy tohim. If she scorned his humble suit and desired only to add his scalp tothe rest, he would escape at least with his pride--he would never lether say he had proposed.

  "Ah, you must excuse me, Miss Lee," he said, speaking with a formalrestraint. "Much as I value your happiness, I--I cannot observethis--custom of the country!"

  He spat the words out bitterly, and closed his lips--as if there wasmore he might say. But Dixie did not lose her smile.

  "Maybe I'd accept you," she suggested with a roguish twinkle, and oncemore he gazed into her eyes to read there if she was his friend. But awoman's eyes are deceptive, and hers spoke of many things--she smiled,the old dazzling smile, but there was mischief in the depths. He sighedand drew away.

  "Ah, no," he said, "you cannot understand." Then, as she waited, hisheart turned to bitterness and he spoke on as the thoughts came."Really, Miss Lee, it pains me--I cannot believe it. What is one man,more or less, that you should hurt me like this? Dixie"--he raised hisdowncast eyes and regarded her reproachfully--"I have dreamed about you.I have worshiped you from afar--I have fought my way to be near you. Youdon't know how it would pain me--after all I have hoped--to haveyou----"

  "Aw, Bowles," chided Dixie, reaching out her hand, "can't you see that Iwant you?"

  And then Bowles' dream came true.