CHAPTER XXIV
BETWEEN GIRLHOOD AND WOMANHOOD
About nine o'clock that night Puss ushered McCloud in from the river.Dicksie came running downstairs to meet him. "Your cousin insisted Ishould come up to the house for some supper," said McCloud dryly. "Icould have taken camp fare with the men. Gordon stayed there withhim."
Dicksie held his hat in her hand, and her eyes were bright in thefirelight. Puss must have thought the two made a handsome couple, forshe lingered, as she started for the kitchen, to look back.
"Puss," exclaimed her mistress, "fry a chicken right away! A big one,Puss! Mr. McCloud is very hungry, I know. And be quick, do! Oh, how isthe river, Mr. McCloud?"
"Behaving like a lamb. It hasn't fallen much, but the pressure seemsto be off the bank, if you know what that means?"
"You must be a magician! Things changed the minute you came!"
"The last doctor usually gets credit for the cure, you know."
"Oh, I know all about that. Don't you want to freshen up? Should youmind coming right to my room? Marion is in hers," explained Dicksie,"and I am never sure of Cousin Lance's,--he has so many boots."
When she had disposed of McCloud she flew to the kitchen. Puss wasstarting after a chicken. "Take a lantern, Puss!" whispered Dicksievehemently.
"No, indeed; dis nigger don' need no lantern fo' chickens, MissDicksie."
"But get a good one, Puss, and make haste, do! Mr. McCloud must bestarved! Where is the baking powder? I'll get the biscuits started."
Puss turned fiercely. "Now look-a heah, yo' can't make biscuits! Yo'jes' go se' down wif dat young gen'm'n! Jes' lemme lone, ef yo'please! Dis ain't de firs' time I killed chickens, Miss Dicksie, an'made biscuits. Jes' clair out an' se' down! Place f'r young ladies isin de parlor! Ol' Puss can cook supper f'r one man yet--ef she _has_to!"
"Oh, yes, Puss, certainly, I know, of course; only, get a nicechicken!" and with the parting admonition Dicksie, smoothing her hairwildly, hastened back to the living-room.
But the harm was done. Puss, more excited than her mistress, lost herhead when she got to the chicken-yard, and with sufficiently badresults. When Dicksie ran out a few moments afterward for a glass ofwater for McCloud, Puss was calmly wiping her hands, and in the sinklay the quivering form of young Caesar. Dicksie caught her favorite upby the legs and suppressed a cry. There could be no mistake. She casta burning look on Puss. It would do no good to storm now. Dicksie onlywrung her hands and returned to McCloud.
He rose in the happiest mood. He could not see what a tormentDicksie was in, and took the water without asking himself why ittrembled in her hand. Her restrained manner did not worry him, forhe felt that his fight at the river was won, and the prospect offried chicken composed him. Even the long hour before Puss, calmand inviting in a white cap and apron, appeared to announce supper,passed like a dream. When Dicksie rose to lead the way to thedining-room, McCloud walked on air; the high color about her eyesintoxicated him. Not till half the fried chicken, with manycompliments from McCloud, had disappeared, and the plate had gone outfor the second dozen biscuits, did he notice Dicksie's abstraction.
"I'm sure you need worry no longer about the water," he observedreassuringly. "I think the worst of the danger is past."
Dicksie looked at the table-cloth with wide-open eyes. "I feel surethat it is. I am no longer worrying about that."
"It's nothing I can do or leave undone, is it?" asked McCloud,laughing a little as he implied in his tone that she must be worryingabout something.
Dicksie made a gesture of alarm. "Oh, no, no; nothing!"
"It's a pretty good plan not to worry about anything."
"Do you think so?"
"Why, we all thought so last night. Heavens!" McCloud drew back in hischair. "I never offered you a piece of chicken! What have I beenthinking of?"
"Oh, I wouldn't eat it anyway!" cried Dicksie.
"You wouldn't? It is delicious. Do have a plate and a wing at least."
"Really, I could not bear to think of it," she said pathetically.
He spoke lower. "Something is troubling you. I have no right to aconfidence, I know," he added, taking a biscuit.
Her eyes fell to the floor. "It is nothing. Pray, don't mind me. May Ifill your cup?" she asked, looking up. "I am afraid I worry too muchover what has happened and can't be helped. Do you never do that?"
McCloud, laughing wretchedly, tore Caesar's last leg from his body. "Noindeed. I never worry over what can't be helped."
They left the dining-room. Marion came down. But they had hardlyseated themselves before the living-room fire when a messenger arrivedwith word that McCloud was wanted at the river. His chagrin at beingdragged away was so apparent that Marion and Dicksie sympathized withhim and laughed at him. "'I never worry about what can't be helped,'"Dicksie murmured.
He looked at Marion. "That's a shot at me. You don't want to go down,do you?" he asked ironically, looking from one to the other.
"Why, of course I'll go down," responded Dicksie promptly. "Marioncaught cold last night, I guess, so you will excuse her, I know. Iwill be back in an hour, Marion, and you can toast your cold while I'mgone."
"But you mustn't go alone!" protested McCloud.
Dicksie lifted her chin the least bit. "I shall be going with you,shall I not? And if the messenger has gone back I shall have to guideyou. You never could find your way alone."
"But I can go," interposed Marion, rising.
"Not at all; you can _not_ go!" announced Dicksie. "I can protect bothMr. McCloud and myself. If he should arrive down there under the wingof two women he would never hear the last of it. I am mistress herestill, I think; and I sha'n't be leaving home, you know, to make thetrip!"
McCloud looked at Marion. "I never worry over what can't behelped--though it is dollars to cents that those fellows don't need medown there any more than a cat needs two tails. And how will you getback?" he asked, turning to Dicksie.
"I will ride back!" returned Dicksie loftily. "But you may, if youlike, help me get my horse up."
"Are you sure you can find your way back?" persisted McCloud.
Dicksie looked at him in surprise. "Find my way back?" she echoedsoftly. "I could not lose it. I can ride over any part of this countryat noon or at midnight, asleep or awake, with a saddle or without,with a bridle or without, with a trail or without. I've ridden everyhorse that has ever come on the Crawling Stone Ranch. I could ridewhen I was three years old. Find my way back?"
The messenger had gone when the two rode from the house. The sky washeavily overcast, and the wind blew such a gale from the south andwest that one could hardly hear what the other said. McCloud could nothave ridden from the house to the barn in the utter darkness, but hishorse followed Dicksie's. She halted frequently on the trail for himto come up with her, and after they had crossed the alfalfa fieldsMcCloud did not care whether they ever found the path again or not."It's great, isn't it?" he exclaimed, coming up to her after opening agate in the dark. "Where are you?"
"This way," laughed Dicksie. "Look out for the trail here. Give meyour hand and let your horse have his head. If he slips, drop offquick on this side." McCloud caught her hand. They rode for a momentin silence, the horses stepping cautiously. "All right now," saidDicksie; "you may let go." But McCloud kept his horse up close andclung to the warm hand. "The camp is just around the hill," murmuredDicksie, trying to pull away. "But of course if you would like to ridein holding my hand you may!"
"No," said McCloud, "of course not--not for worlds! But, Miss Dicksie,couldn't we ride back to the house and ride around the other way intocamp? I think the other way into the camp--say, around by the railroadbridge--would be prettier, don't you?"
For answer she touched Jim lightly with her lines and his springreleased her hand very effectively. As she did so the trail turned,and the camp-fire, whipped in the high wind, blazed before them.
Whispering Smith and Lance Dunning were sitting together as the twogalloped up. Smith helped Dicksie t
o alight. She was conscious of hercolor and that her eyes were now unduly bright. Moreover, WhisperingSmith's glance rested so calmly on both McCloud's face and her ownthat Dicksie felt as if he saw quite through her and knew everythingthat had happened since they left the house.
Lance was talking to McCloud. "Don't abuse the wind," McCloud wassaying. "It's our best friend to-night, Mr. Dunning. It is blowing thewater off-shore. Where is the trouble?" For answer Dunning led McCloudoff toward the Bend, and Dicksie was left alone with WhisperingSmith.
He made a seat for her on the windward side of the big fire. When shehad seated herself she looked up in great contentment to ask if he wasnot going to sit down beside her. The brown coat, the high black hat,and the big eyes of Whispering Smith had already become a part of hermental store. She saw that he seemed preoccupied, and sought to drawhim out of his abstraction.
"I am so glad you and Mr. McCloud are getting acquainted with CousinLance," she said. "And do you mind my giving you a confidence, Mr.Smith? Lance has been so unreasonable about this matter of therailroad's coming up the valley and powwowing so much with lawyers andranchers that he has been forgetting about everything at home. He isso much older than I am that he ought to be the sensible one of thefamily, don't you think so? It frightens me to have him losing atcards and drinking. I am afraid he will get into some shooting affair.I don't understand what has come over him, and I worry about it. Ibelieve you could influence him if you knew him."
"What makes you think that?" asked Whispering Smith, but his eyes wereon the fire.
"Because these men he spends his time with in town--the men who fightand shoot so much--are afraid of you. Don't laugh at me. I know it isquite true in spite of their talk. I was afraid of you myselfuntil----"
"Until we made verse together."
"Until you made verse and I spoiled it. But I think it is because Idon't understand things that I am so afraid. I am not naturally acoward. I'm sure I could not be afraid of you if I understood thingsbetter. And there is Marion. She puzzles me. She will never speak ofher husband--I don't know why. And I don't know why Mr. McCloud is sohard on Mr. Sinclair--Mr. Sinclair seems so kind and good-natured."
Whispering Smith looked from the fire into Dicksie's eyes. "Whatshould you say if I gave you a confidence?"
She opened her heart to his searching gaze. "Would you trust me with aconfidence?"
He answered without hesitation. "You shall see. Now, I have manythings I can't talk about, you understand. But if I had to give you asecret this instant that carried my life, I shouldn't fear to doit--so much for trusting you. Only this, too, as to what I say: don'tever quote me or let it appear that you any more than know me. Can youmanage that? Really? Very good; you will understand why in a minute.The man that is stirring up all this trouble with your Cousin Lanceand in this whole country is your kind and good-natured neighbor, Mr.Sinclair. I am prejudiced against him; let us admit that on the start,and remember it in estimating what I say. But Sinclair is the man whohas turned your cousin's head, as well as made things in other waysunpleasant for several of us. Sinclair--I tell you so you willunderstand everything, more than your cousin, Mr. McCloud, or MarionSinclair understand--Sinclair is a train-wrecker and a murderer. Thatmakes you breathe hard, doesn't it? but it is so. Sinclair is fairlyeducated and highly intelligent, capable in every way, daring to thelimit, and, in a way, fascinating; it is no wonder he has a following.But his following is divided into two classes: the men that know allthe secrets, and the men that don't--men like Rebstock and Du Sang,and men like your cousin and a hundred or so sports in Medicine Bend,who see only the glamour of Sinclair's pace. Your cousin sympathizeswith Sinclair when he doesn't actually side with him. All this hashelped to turn Sinclair's head, and this is exactly the situation youand McCloud and I and a lot of others are up against. They don't knowall this, but I know it, and now you know it. Let me tell yousomething that comes close to home. You have a cowboy on the ranchnamed Karg--he is called Flat Nose. Karg was a railroad man. He is acattle-thief, a train-robber, a murderer, and a spy. I should not tellyou this if you were not game to the last drop of your blood. But Ithink I know you better than you know yourself, though you never sawme until last night. Karg is Sinclair's spy at your ranch, and youmust never feel it or know it; but he is there to keep your cousin'ssympathy with Sinclair, and to lure your cousin his way. And Karg willtry to kill George McCloud every time he sets foot on this ranch,remember that."
"Then Mr. McCloud ought not to be here. I don't want him to stay if heis in danger!" exclaimed Dicksie.
"But I do want him to come here as if it mattered nothing, and I shalltry to take care of him. I have a man among your own men, a cowboynamed Wickwire, who will be watching Karg, and who is just as quick,and Karg, not knowing he was watched, would be taken unawares. IfWickwire goes elsewhere to work some one else will take his placehere. Karg is not on the ranch now; he is up North, hunting up some ofyour steers that were run off last month by his own cronies. Now doyou think I am giving you confidence?"
She looked at him steadily. "If I can only deserve it all." In thedistance she heard the calling of the men at the river borne on thewind. The shock of what had been told her, the strangeness of thenight and of the scene, left her calm. Fear had given way toresponsibility and Dicksie seemed to know herself.
"You have nothing whatever to do to deserve it but keep your owncounsel. But listen a moment longer--for this is what I have beenleading up to," he said. "Marion will get a message to-morrow, amessage from Sinclair, asking her to come to see him at hisranch-house before she goes back. I don't know what he wants--but sheis his wife. He has treated her infamously; that is why she will notlive with him and does not speak of him. But you know how strange awoman is--or perhaps you don't: she doesn't always cease to care for aman when she ceases to trust him. I am not in Marion's confidence,Miss Dicksie. She is another man's wife. I cannot tell how she feelstoward him; I know she has often tried to reclaim him from hisdeviltry. She may try again, that is, she may, for one reason oranother, go to him as he asks. I could not interfere, if I would. Ihave no right to if I could, and I will not. Now this is what I'mtrying to get up the courage to ask you. Should you dare to go withher to Sinclair's ranch if she decides to go to him?"
"Certainly I should dare."
"After all you know?"
"After all I know--why not?"
"Then in case she does go and you go with her, you will know nothingwhatever about anything, of course, unless you get the story from her.What I fear is that which possibly may come of their interview. He maytry to kill her--don't be frightened. He will not succeed if you canonly make sure he doesn't lead her away on horseback from theranch-house or get her alone in a room. She has few friends. I respectand honor her because she and I grew up as children together in thesame little town in Wisconsin. I know her folks, all of them, and I'vepromised them--you know--to have a kind of care of her."
"I think I know."
He looked self-conscious even at her tone of understanding. "I neednot try to deceive you; your instinct would be poor if it did not tellyou more than I ought to. He came along and turned her head. You needfear nothing for yourself in going with her, and nothing for her ifyou can cover just those two points--can you remember? Not to let hergo away with him on horseback, and not to leave her where she will bealone with him in the house?"
"I can and will. I think as much of Marion as you do. I am proud to beable to do something for you. How little I have known you! I thoughtyou were everything I didn't want to know."
"It's nothing," he returned easily, "except that Sinclair has stirredup your cousin and the ranchers as well as the Williams Cache gang,and that makes talk about me. I have to do what I can to make this apeaceable country to live in. The railroad wants decent people hereand doesn't want the other kind, and it falls on me, unfortunately, tokeep the other kind moving. I don't like it, but we can none of us doquite what we please in making a living. Let me tell you this"--heturned to
fix his eyes seriously on hers: "Believe anything you hearof me except that I have ever taken human life willingly or save indischarge of my duty. But this kind of work makes my own life anuncertainty, as you can see. I do almost literally carry my life in myhand, for if my hand is not quicker every time than a man's eye, I amdone for then and there."
"It is dreadful to think of."
"Not exactly that, but it is something I can't afford to forget."
"What would become of the lives of the friends you protect if you werekilled?"
"You say you care for Marion Sinclair. I should like to think ifanything should happen to me you wouldn't forget her?"
"I never will."
He smiled. "Then I put her in charge of the man closest to me, GeorgeMcCloud, and the woman she thinks the most of in the world--except hermother. What is this, are they back? Yonder they come."
"We found nothing serious," McCloud said, answering their questionsas he approached with Lance Dunning. "The current is really swingingaway, but the bank is caving in where it was undermined last night."He stopped before Dicksie. "I am trying to get your cousin to go tothe house and go to bed. I am going to stay all night, but there is nonecessity for his staying."
"Damn it, McCloud, it's not right," protested Lance, taking off hishat and wiping his forehead. "You need the sleep more than I do. I sayhe is the one to go to bed to-night," continued Lance, putting it upto Whispering Smith. "And I insist, by the Almighty, that you two takehim back to the house with you now!"
Whispering Smith raised his hand. "If this is merely a family quarrelabout who shall go to bed, let us compromise. You two stay up allnight and let me go to bed."
Lance, however, was obdurate.
"It seems to be a family characteristic of the Dunnings to have theirown way," ventured McCloud, after some further dispute. "If you willhave it so, Mr. Dunning, you may stand watch to-night and I will go tothe house."
Riding back with McCloud, Dicksie and Whispering Smith discussed theflood. McCloud disclaimed credit for the improvement in the situation."If the current had held against us as it did yesterday, nothing Icould have done would have turned it," he said.
"Honesty is the best policy, of course," observed Whispering Smith. "Ilike to see a modest man--and you want to remind him of all this whenhe sends in his bill," he suggested, speaking to Dicksie in the dark."But," he added, turning to McCloud, "admitting that you are right,don't take the trouble to advertise your view of it around here. Itwould be only decent strategy for us in the valley just now to take alittle of the credit due to the wind."
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