CHAPTER IV
THE GAME PLAYED IN THE USUAL WAY
The road on which they advanced into the mountains was well made andwell kept up. The canyon through the foothills was not very deep--forColorado--and the ascent was gentle. Naturally it wound in everydirection following the devious course of the river which it frequentlycrossed from one side to the other on rude log bridges. A brisk gallopof a half mile or so on a convenient stretch of comparatively levelgoing put the two in the lead far ahead of the lumbering wagon and outof sight of those others of the party who had elected to go a horseback.There was perhaps a tacit agreement among the latter not to break inupon this growing friendship or, more frankly, not to interfere in adeveloping love affair.
The canyon broadened here and there at long intervals and ranch houseswere found in every clearing, but these were few and far between and forthe most part Armstrong and Enid Maitland rode practically alone savefor the passing of an occasional lumber wagon.
"You can't think," began the man, as they drew rein after a splendidgallop and the somewhat tired horses readily subsided into a walk, "howI hate to go back and leave you."
"And you can't think how loath I am to have you return," the girlflashed out at him with a sidelong glance from her bright blue eyes anda witching smile from her scarlet lips.
"Enid Maitland," said the man, "you know I just worship you. I'd like tosweep you out of your saddle, lift you to the bow of mine and ride awaywith you. I can't keep my hands off you, I--"
Before she realized what he would be about he swerved his horse towardher, his arm went around her suddenly. Taken completely off her guardshe could make no resistance, indeed she scarcely knew what to expectuntil he crushed her to him and kissed her, almost roughly, full on thelips.
"How dare you!" cried the girl, her face aflame, freeing herself atlast, and swinging her own horse almost to the edge of the road whichhere ran on an excavation some fifty feet above the river.
"How dare I?" laughed the audacious man, apparently no whit abashed byher indignation. "When I think of my opportunity I am amazed at mymoderation."
"Your opportunity, your moderation?"
"Yes; when I had you helpless I took but one kiss, I might have held youlonger and taken a hundred."
"And by what right did you take that one?" haughtily demanded theoutraged young woman, looking at him beneath level brows while the colorslowly receded from her face. She had never been kissed by a man otherthan a blood relation in her life--remember, suspicious reader, that shewas from Philadelphia--and she resented this sudden and unauthorizedcaress with every atom and instinct of her still somewhat conventionalbeing.
"But aren't you half-way engaged to me?" he pleaded in justification,seeing the unwonted seriousness with which she had received his impudentadvance. "Didn't you agree to give me a chance?"
"I did say that I liked you very much," she admitted, "no man better,and that I thought you might--"
"Well, then--" he began.
But she would not be interrupted.
"I did not mean that you should enjoy all the privileges of a conquestbefore you had won me. I will thank you not to do that again, sir."
"It seems to have had a very different effect upon you than it did uponme," replied the man fervently. "I loved you before, but now, since Ihave kissed you, I worship you."
"It hasn't affected me that way," retorted the girl promptly, her facestill frowning and indignant. "Not at all, and--"
"Forgive me, Enid," pleaded the other. "I just couldn't help it. Youwere so beautiful I had to. I took the chance. You are not accustomed toour ways."
"Is this your habit in your love affairs?" asked the girl swiftly andnot without a spice of feminine malice.
"I never had any love affairs before," he replied with a ready masculinemendacity, "at least none worth mentioning. But you see this is thewest, we have gained what we have by demanding every inch that natureoffers, and then claiming the all. That's the way we play the game outhere and that's the way we win."
"But I have not yet learned to play the 'game,' as you call it, by anysuch rules," returned the young woman determinedly, "and it is not theway to win me if I am the stake."
"What is the way?" asked the man anxiously. "Show me and I'll take itno matter what its difficulty."
"Ah, for me to point out the way would be to play traitor to myself,"she answered, relenting and relaxing a little before his devoted wooing."You must find it without assistance. I can only tell you one thing."
"And what is that?"
"You do not advance toward the goal by such actions as those of a momentsince."
"Look here," said the other suddenly. "I am not ashamed of what I did,and I'm not going to pretend that I am, either."
"You ought to be," severely.
"Well, maybe so, but I'm not. I couldn't help it any more than I couldhelp loving you the minute I saw you. Put yourself in my place."
"But I am not in your place, and I can't put myself there. I do not wishto. If it be true, as you say, that you have grown to--care so much forme and so quickly--"
"If it be true?" came the sharp interruption as the man bent toward herfairly devouring her with his bold, ardent gaze.
"Well, since it is true," she admitted under the compulsion of hisprotest, "that fact is the only possible excuse for your action."
"You find some justification for me, then!"
"No, only a possibility, but whether it be true or not, I do not feelthat way--yet."
There was a saving grace in that last word, which gave him a littleheart. He would have spoken, but she suffered no interruption, saying:
"I have been wooed before, but--"
"True, unless the human race has become suddenly blind," he said softlyunder his breath.
"But never in such ungentle ways."
"I suppose you have never run up against a real red-blooded man like mebefore."
"If red-blooded be evidenced mainly by lack of self-control, perhaps Ihave not. Yet there are men whom I have met who would not need toapologize for their qualities even to you, Mr. James Armstrong."
"Don't say that. Evidently I make but poor progress in my wooing. Neverhave I met with a woman quite like you."--And in that indeed lay some ofher charm, and she might have replied in exactly the same language andwith exactly the same meaning to him.--"I am no longer a boy. I must befifteen years older than you are, for I am thirty-five."
The difference between their years was not quite so great as hedeclared, but woman-like the girl let the statement pass unchallenged.
"And I wouldn't insult your intelligence by saying you are the onlywoman that I have ever made love to, but there is a vast differencebetween making love to a woman and loving one. I have just found thatout for the first time. I marvel at the past, and I am ashamed of it,but I thank God that I have been saved for this opportunity. I want towin you, and I am going to do it, too. In many things I don't match upwith the people with whom you train. I was born out here, and I've mademyself. There are things that have happened in the making that I am notespecially proud of, and I am not at all satisfied with the results,especially since I have met you. The better I know you the less pleasedI am with Jim Armstrong, but there are possibilities in me, I ratherbelieve, and with you for inspiration, Heavens!"--the man flung out hishand with a fine gesture of determination. "They say that the east andwest don't naturally mingle, but it's a lie, you and I can beat theworld."
The woman thrilled to his gallant wooing. Any woman would have done so,some of them would have lost their heads, but Enid Maitland was anexceedingly cool young person, for she was not quite swept off her feet,and did not quite lose her balance.
"I like to hear you say things like that," she answered. "Nobody quitelike you has ever made love to me, and certainly not in your way, andthat's the reason I have given you a half-way promise to think about it.I was sorry that you could not be with us on this adventure, but now Iam rather glad, especially if the even tempe
r of my way is to beinterrupted by anything like the outburst of a few moments since."
"I am glad, too," admitted the man. "For I declare I couldn't help it.If I have to be with you either you have got to be mine, or else youwould have to decide that it could never be, and then I'd go off andfight it out."
"Leave me to myself," said the girl earnestly, "for a little while; it'sbest so. I would not take the finest, noblest man on earth--"
"And I am not that."
"Unless I loved him. There is something very attractive about yourpersonality. I don't know in my heart whether it is that or--"
"Good," said the man, as she hesitated. "That's enough," he gathered upthe reins and whirled his horse suddenly in the road, "I am going back.I'll wait for your return to Denver, and then--"
"That's best," answered the girl.
She stretched out her hand to him, leaning backward. If he had been adifferent kind of a man he would have kissed it, as it was he took itin his own hand and almost crushed it with a fierce grip.
"We'll shake on that, little girl," he said, and then without a backwardglance he put spurs to his horse and galloped furiously down the road.
No, she decided then and there, she did not love him, not yet. Whethershe ever would she could not tell. And yet she was half bound to him.The recollection of his kiss was not altogether a pleasant memory; hehad not done himself any good by that bold assault upon her modesty,that reckless attempt to rifle the treasure of her lips. No man had everreally touched her heart, although many had engaged her interest. Herexperiences therefore were not definitive or conclusive. If she hadtruly loved James Armstrong, in spite of all that she might have said,she would have thrilled to the remembrance of that wild caress. Thechances, therefore, were somewhat heavily against him that morning as herode hopefully down the trail alone.
His experiences in love affairs were much greater than hers. She was byno means the first woman he had kissed--remember suspicious reader thathe was _not_ from Philadelphia!--hers were not the first ears into whichhe had poured passionate protestations. He was neither better nor worsethan most men, perhaps he fairly enough represented the average, butsurely fate had something better in store for such a superb woman--agirl of such attainments and such infinite possibilities, she must matehigher than with the average man. Perhaps there was a sub-consciousnessof this in her mind as she silently waited to be overtaken by the restof the party.
There were curious glances and strange speculations in that littlecompany as they saw her sitting her horse alone. A few moments beforeJames Armstrong had passed them at a gallop, he had waved his hand as hedashed by and had smiled at them, hope giving him a certain assurance,although his confidence was scarcely warranted by the facts.
His demeanor was not in consonance with Enid's somewhat grave andsomewhat troubled present aspect. She threw off her preoccupationinstantly and easily, however, and joined readily enough in the merryconversation of the way.
Mr. Robert Maitland, as Armstrong had said, had known him from a boy.There were things in his career of which Maitland did not and could notapprove, but they were of the past, he reflected, and Armstrong wasafter all a pretty good sort. Mr. Maitland's standards were not at allthose of his Philadelphia brother, but they were very high. Hisexperiences of men had been different; he thought that Armstrong,having certainly by this time reached years of discretion, could besafely entrusted with the precious treasure of the young girl who hadbeen committed to his care, and for whom his affection grew as hisknowledge of and acquaintanceship with her increased.
As for Mrs. Maitland and the two girls and the youngster, they wereArmstrong's devoted friends. They knew nothing about his past, indeedthere were things in it of which Maitland himself was ignorant, andwhich had they been known to him might have caused him to withhold evenhis tentative acquiescence in the possibilities.
Most of these things were known to old Kirkby who with masterly skill,amusing nonchalance and amazing profanity, albeit most of it under hisbreath lest he shock the ladies, tooled along the four nervous excitedbroncos who drew the big supply wagon. Kirkby was Maitland's oldest andmost valued friend. He had been the latter's deputy sheriff, he had beena cowboy and a lumberman, a mighty hunter and a successful miner, andnow although he had acquired a reasonable competence, and had a nicelittle wife and a pleasant home in the mountain village at the entranceto the canyon, he drove stage for pleasure rather than for profit. He hadgiven over his daily twenty-five mile jaunt from Morrison to Troutdaleto other hands for a short space that he might spend a little time withhis old friend and the family, who were all greatly attached to him, onthis outing.
Enid Maitland, a girl of a kind that Kirkby had never seen before, hadwon the old man's heart during the weeks spent on the Maitland ranch. Hehad grown fond of her, and he did not think that Mr. James Armstrongmerited that which he evidently so overwhelmingly desired. Kirkby waswell along in years, but he was quite capable of playing a man's gamefor all that, and he intended to play it in this instance.
Nobody scanned Enid Maitland's face more closely than he, sitting humpedup on the front seat of the wagon, one foot on the high brake, his headsunk almost to the level of his knee, his long whip in his hand, hiskeen and somewhat fierce brown eyes taking in every detail of what wasgoing on about him. Indeed there was but little that came before himthat old Kirkby did not see.
The Chalice Of Courage: A Romance of Colorado Page 8
