Bransford of Rainbow Range

by Eugene Manlove Rhodes

  CHAPTER II

  FIRST AID

  "Oh woman! in our hours of ease Uncertain, coy and hard to please; But seen too oft, familiar with thy face We first endure, then pity, then embrace!"

  A moment later the girl was beside him, pity in her eyes.

  "Let me see that cut on your head," she said. She dropped on her kneeand parted the hair with a gentle touch.

  "Why, you're real!" breathed the injured near-centaur, beaming withwonder and gratification.

  She sat down limply and gave way to wild laughter.

  "So are you!" she retorted. "Why, that is exactly what I was thinking! Ithought maybe I was asleep and having an extraordinary dream. That woundon your head is not serious, if that's all." She brushed back a wisp ofhair that blew across her eyes.

  "I hurt this head just the other day," observed the bedraggled victim,as one who has an assortment of heads from which to choose. He pulledoff his soaked gloves and regarded them ruefully. "'Them that go down todeep waters!' That was a regular triumph of matter over mind, wasn'tit?"

  "It's a wonder you're alive! My! How frightened I was! Aren't youhurt--truly? Ribs or anything?"

  The patient's elbows made a convulsive movement to guard the threatenedribs.

  "Oh, no, ma'am. I ain't hurt a bit--indeed I ain't," he said truthfully;but his eyes had the languid droop of one who says the thing that isnot. "Don't you worry none about me--not one bit. Sorry I frightenedyou. That black horse now----" He stopped to consider fully the case ofthe black horse. "Well, you see, ma'am, that black horse, he ain'texactly right plumb gentle." His eyelids drooped again.

  The girl considered. She believed him--both that he was not badly hurtand that the black horse was not exactly gentle. And her suspicions werearoused. His slow drawl was getting slower; his cowboyese broader--amode of speech quite inconsistent with that first sprightly remark aboutthe little eohippus. What manner of cowboy was this, from whose tongue alearned scientific term tripped spontaneously in so stressful amoment--who quoted scraps of the litany unaware? Also, her own eyes werenone of the slowest. She had noted that the limping did not begin untilhe was clear of the pool. Still, that might happen if one were excited;but this one had been singularly calm, "more than usual ca'm," shementally quoted.... Of course, if he really were badly hurt--which shedidn't believe one bit--a little bruised and jarred, maybe--the onlything for her to do would be to go back to camp and get help.... Thatmeant the renewal of Lake's hateful attentions and--for the other girls,the sharing of her find.... She stole another look at her find andthrilled with all the pride of the discoverer.... No doubt he was shakenand bruised, after all. He must be suffering. What a splendid rider hewas!

  "What made you so absurd? Why didn't you get out of the water, then, ifyou are not hurt?" she snapped suddenly.

  The drooped lids raised; brown eyes looked steadily into brown eyes.

  "I didn't want to wake up," he said.

  The candor of this explanation threw her, for the moment, into a vividand becoming confusion. The dusky roses leaped to her cheeks; the long,dark lashes quivered and fell. Then she rose to the occasion.

  "And how about the little eohippus?" she demanded. "That doesn't seem togo well with some of your other talk."

  "Oh!" He regarded her with pained but unflinching innocence. "TheLatin, you mean? Why, ma'am, that's most all the Latin I know--that andsome more big words in that song. I learned that song off of Frank John,just like a poll-parrot."

  "Sing it! And eohippus isn't Latin. It's Greek."

  "Why, ma'am, I can't, just now--I'm so muddy; but I'll tell it to you.Maybe I'll sing it to you some other time." A sidelong glanceaccompanied this little suggestion. The girl's face was blank andnon-committal; so he resumed: "It goes like this:

  "Said the little Eohippus, 'I'm going to be a horse, And on my middle fingernails To run my earthly course'----

  "No; that wasn't the first. It begins:

  "There was once a little animal No bigger than a fox, And on five toes he scampered----

  "Of course you know, ma'am--Frank John he told me about it--that horseswere little like that, 'way back. And this one he set his silly headthat he was going to be a really-truly horse, like the song says. Andfolks told him he couldn't--couldn't possibly be done, nohow. And sureenough he did. It's a foolish song, really. I only sing parts of it whenI feel like that--like it couldn't be done and I was going to do it, youknow. The boys call it my song. Look here, ma'am!" He fished in his vestpocket and produced tobacco and papers, matches--last of all, a tinyturquoise horse, an inch long. "I had a jeweler-man put five toes on hisfeet once to make him be a little eohippus. Going to make a watch-charmof him sometime. He's a lucky little eohippus, I think. Peso gave him tome when--never mind when. Peso's a Mescalero Indian, you know, chief ofpolice at the agency." He gingerly dropped the little horse into hereager palm.

  It was a singularly grotesque and angular little beast, high-stepping,high-headed, with a level stare, at once complacent and haughty. Despitethe first unprepossessing rigidity of outline, there was somehow asprightly air, something endearing, in the stiff, purposed stride, thealert, inquiring ears, the stern and watchful eye. Each tiny hoof wasfaintly graven to semblance of five tinier toes; there, the work showedfresh.

  "The cunning little monster!" Prison grime was on him; she groomed andpolished at his dingy sides until the wonderful color shone outtriumphant. "What is it that makes him such a dear? Oh, I know. It'ssomething--well, childlike, you know. Think of the grown-up child thattoiled with pride and joy at the making of him--dear me, how manylifetimes since!--and fondly put him by as a complete horse." She heldhim up in the sun: the ingrate met her caress with the same obdurate andindomitable glare. She laughed her rapturous delight: "There! How muchbetter you look! Oh, you darling! Aren't you absurd? Straight-backed,stiff-legged, thick-necked, square-headed--and that ridiculously balefuleye! It's too high up and too far forward, you know--and your ears aretoo big--and you have such a malignant look! Never mind; now that you'reall nice and clean, I'm going to reward you." Her lips just brushedhim--the lucky little eohippus.

  The owner of the lucky little horse was not able to repress one swift,dismal glance at his own vast dishevelment, nor, as his shrinking hands,entirely of their own volition, crept stealthily to hiding, theslightest upward rolling of a hopeful eye toward the leaping waters ofthe spring; but, if one might judge from her sedate and matter-of-facttones, that eloquent glance was wasted on the girl.

  "You ought to take better care of him, you know," she said as sherestored the little monster to his owner. Then she laughed. "Hasn't he afierce and warlike appearance, though?"

  "Sure. That's resolution. Look at those legs!" said the owner fondly."He spurns the ground. He's going somewheres. He's going to be a horse!And them ears--one cocked forward and the other back, strictly on the_cuidado_! He'll make it. He'll certainly do to take along! Yes, ma'am,I'll take right good care of him." He regarded the homely beast withawe; he swathed him in cigarette papers with tenderest care. "I'll leavehim at home after this. He might get hurt. I might sometime want to givehim to--somebody."

  The girl sprang up.

  "Now I must get some water and wash that head," she announced briskly.

  "Oh, no--I can't let you do that. I can walk. I ain't hurt a bit, I keeptelling you." In proof of which he walked to the pool with a palpablyclever assumption of steadiness. The girl fluttered solicitous at hiselbow. Then she ran ahead, climbed up to the spring and extended a firm,cool hand, which he took shamelessly, and so came to the fairywaterfall.

  Here he made himself presentable as to face and hands. It is justpossible there was a certain expectancy in his eye as he neared theclose of these labors; but if there were it passed unnoted. The girlbathed the injured head with her handkerchief, and brushed back his hairwith a dainty caressing motion that thrilled him until the color rosebeneath the tan. There was a glint of gray in the wavy black hair,
shenoted.

  She stepped back to regard her handiwork. "Now you look better!" shesaid approvingly. Then, slightly flurried, not without a memory of aprevious and not dissimilar remark of hers, she was off up the hill:whence, despite his shocked protest, she brought back the lost gun andhat.

  Her eyes were sparkling when she returned, her face glowing. Ignoringhis reproachful gaze, she wrung out her handkerchief, led thepatient firmly down the hill and to his saddle, made him trim off asaddle-string, and bound the handkerchief to the wound. She fittedthe sombrero gently.

  "There! Don't this head feel better now?" she queried gayly, with finedisregard for grammar. "And now what? Won't you come back to camp withme? Mr. Lake will be glad to put you up or to let you have a horse. Doyou live far away? I do hope you are not one of those Rosebud men. Mr.La----" She bit her speech off midword.

  "No men there except this Mr. Lake?" asked the cowboy idly.

  "Oh, yes; there's Mr. Herbert--he's gone riding with Lettie--and Mr.White; but it was Mr. Lake who got up the camping party. Mother and AuntLot, and a crowd of us girls--La Luz girls, you know. Mother and I arevisiting Mr. Lake's sister. He's going to give us a masquerade ball whenwe get back, next week."

  The cowboy looked down his nose for consultation, and his nose gave ameditative little tweak.

  "What Lake is it? There's some several Lakes round here. Is it Lake ofAqua Chiquite--wears his hair decollete; talks like he had a washboardin his throat; tailor-made face; walks like a duck on stilts; generalsort of pouter-pigeon effect?"

  At this envenomed description, Miss Ellinor Hoffman promptly choked.

  "I don't know anything about your Aqua Chiquite. I never heard of theplace before. He is a banker in Arcadia. He keeps a general store there.You must know him, surely." So far her voice was rather stern andpurposely resentful, as became Mr. Lake's guest; but there werecomplications, rankling memories of Mr. Lake--of unwelcome attentionspersistently forced upon her. She spoiled the rebuke by adding tartly,"But I think he is the man you mean!" and felt her wrongs avenged.

  The cowboy's face cleared.

  "Well, I don't use Arcadia much, you see. I mostly range down RainbowRiver. Arcadia folks--why, they're mostly newcomers, health-seekers andpeople just living on their incomes--not working folks much, except therailroaders and lumbermen. Now about getting home. You see, ma'am, someof the boys are riding down that way"--he jerked his thumb to indicatethe last flight of the imperfectly gentle horse--"and they're right aptto see my runaway eohippus and sure to see the rope-drag; so they'lllikely amble along the back track to see how much who's hurt. So I guessI'd better stay here. They may be along most any time. Thank you kindly,just the same. Of course, if they don't come at all----Is your campfar?"

  "Not--not very," said Ellinor. The mere fact was that Miss Ellinor hadset out ostensibly for a sketching expedition with another girl, hadturned aside to explore, and exploring had fetched a circuit that hadleft her much closer to her starting-place than to her goal. Hemisinterpreted the slight hesitation.

  "Well, ma'am, thank you again; but I mustn't be keeping you longer. Ireally ought to see you safe back to your camp; but--you'llunderstand--under the circumstances--you'll excuse me?"

  He did not want to implicate Mr. Lake, so he took a limping step forwardto justify his rudeness.

  "And you hardly able to walk? Ridiculous! What I ought to do is to goback to camp and get some one--get Mr. White to help you." Thus, at onceaccepting his unspoken explanation, and offering her own apology inturn, she threw aside the air of guarded hostility that had marked thelast minutes and threw herself anew into this joyous adventure."When--or if--your friends find you, won't it hurt you to ride?" sheasked, and smiled deliberate encouragement.

  "I can be as modest as anybody when there's anything to be modest about;but in this case I guess I'll now declare that I can ride anything thata saddle will stay on.... I reckon," he added reflectively, "the boys'llhave right smart to say about me being throwed."

  "But you weren't thrown! You rode magnificently!" Her eyes flashedadmiration.

  "Yes'm. That's what I hoped you'd say," said the admired onecomplacently. "Go on, ma'am. Say it again."

  "It was splendid! The saddle turned--that's all!"

  He slowly surveyed the scene of his late exploit.

  "Ye--es, that was some riding--for a while," he admitted. "But you see,that saddle now, scarred up that way--why, they'll think the eohippuswasted me and then dragged the saddle off under a tree. Leastways,they'll say they think so, frequent. Best not to let on and to make noexcuses. It'll be easier that way. We're great on guying here. That'smost all the fun we have. We sure got this joshing game down fine. Justwondering what all the boys'd say--that was why I didn't get out of thewater at first, before--before I thought I was asleep, you know."

  "So you'll actually tell a lie to keep from being thought a liar? I'mdisappointed in you."

  "Why, ma'am, I won't say anything. They'll do the talking."

  "It'll be deceitful, just the same," she began, and checked herselfsuddenly. A small twinge struck her at the thought of poor Maud, reallysketching on Thumb Butte, and now disconsolately wondering what hadbecome of lunch and fellow-artist; but she quelled this pang with a sagethought of the greatest good to the greatest number, and clapped herhands in delight. "Oh, what a silly I am, to be sure! I've got a lunchbasket up there, but I forgot all about it in the excitement. I'm surethere's plenty for two. Shall I bring it down to you or can you climb upif I help you? There's water in the canteen--and it's beautiful upthere."

  "I can make it, I guess," said the invited guest--the consummate andunblushing hypocrite. Make it he did, with her strong hand to aid; andthe glen rang to the laughter of them. While behind them, all unnoted,Johnny Dines reined up on the hillside; took one sweeping glance at thatjoyous progress, the scarred hillside, the saddle and the dejectedeohippus in the background; grinned comprehension, and discreetlywithdrew.