by Zane Grey
CHAPTER VI
If spring came at all to Oak Creek Canyon it warmed into summer beforeCarley had time to languish with the fever characteristic of early Junein the East.
As if by magic it seemed the green grass sprang up, the green budsopened into leaves, the bluebells and primroses bloomed, the apple andpeach blossoms burst exquisitely white and pink against the blue sky.Oak Creek fell to a transparent, beautiful brook, leisurely eddying inthe stone walled nooks, hurrying with murmur and babble over the littlefalls. The mornings broke clear and fragrantly cool, the noon hoursseemed to lag under a hot sun, the nights fell like dark mantles fromthe melancholy star-sown sky.
Carley had stubbornly kept on riding and climbing until she killed hersecret doubt that she was really a thoroughbred, until she satisfied herown insistent vanity that she could train to a point where this outdoorlife was not too much for her strength. She lost flesh despite increaseof appetite; she lost her pallor for a complexion of gold-brown she knewher Eastern friends would admire; she wore out the blisters and achesand pains; she found herself growing firmer of muscle, lither of line,deeper of chest. And in addition to these physical manifestations therewere subtle intimations of a delight in a freedom of body she had neverbefore known, of an exhilaration in action that made her hot and madeher breathe, of a sloughing off of numberless petty and fussy andluxurious little superficialities which she had supposed were necessaryto her happiness. What she had undertaken in vain conquest of Glenn'spride and Flo Hutter's Western tolerance she had found to be aboomerang. She had won Glenn's admiration; she had won the Westerngirl's recognition. But her passionate, stubborn desire had beenignoble, and was proved so by the rebound of her achievement, cominghome to her with a sweetness she had not the courage to accept. Sheforced it from her. This West with its rawness, its ruggedness, shehated.
Nevertheless, the June days passed, growing dreamily swift, growing moreincomprehensibly full; and still she had not broached to Glenn the mainobject of her visit--to take him back East. Yet a little whilelonger! She hated his work and had not talked of that. Yet an honestconsciousness told her that as time flew by she feared more and more totell him that he was wasting his life there and that she could not bearit. Still was he wasting it? Once in a while a timid and unfamiliarCarley Burch voiced a pregnant query. Perhaps what held Carley back mostwas the happiness she achieved in her walks and rides with Glenn. Shelingered because of them. Every day she loved him more, and yet--therewas something. Was it in her or in him? She had a woman's assurance ofhis love and sometimes she caught her breath--so sweet and strong wasthe tumultuous emotion it stirred. She preferred to enjoy while shecould, to dream instead of think. But it was not possible to hold ablank, dreamy, lulled consciousness all the time. Thought would return.And not always could she drive away a feeling that Glenn would never beher slave. She divined something in his mind that kept him gentle andkindly, restrained always, sometimes melancholy and aloof, as if hewere an impassive destiny waiting for the iron consequences he knewinevitably must fall. What was this that he knew which she did not know?The idea haunted her. Perhaps it was that which compelled her to use allher woman's wiles and charms on Glenn. Still, though it thrilled her tosee she made him love her more as the days passed, she could not blindherself to the truth that no softness or allurement of hers changed thisstrange restraint in him. How that baffled her! Was it resistance orknowledge or nobility or doubt?
Flo Hutter's twentieth birthday came along the middle of June, and allthe neighbors and range hands for miles around were invited to celebrateit.
For the second time during her visit Carley put on the white gown thathad made Flo gasp with delight, and had stunned Mrs. Hutter, and hadbrought a reluctant compliment from Glenn. Carley liked to create asensation. What were exquisite and expensive gowns for, if not that?
It was twilight on this particular June night when she was ready to godownstairs, and she tarried a while on the long porch. The evening star,so lonely and radiant, so cold and passionless in the dusky blue, hadbecome an object she waited for and watched, the same as she had cometo love the dreaming, murmuring melody of the waterfall. She lingeredthere. What had the sights and sounds and smells of this wild canyoncome to mean to her? She could not say. But they had changed herimmeasurably.
Her soft slippers made no sound on the porch, and as she turnedthe corner of the house, where shadows hovered thick, she heard LeeStanton's voice:
"But, Flo, you loved me before Kilbourne came."
The content, the pathos, of his voice chained Carley to the spot. Somesituations, like fate, were beyond resisting.
"Shore I did," replied Flo, dreamily. This was the voice of a girl whowas being confronted by happy and sad thoughts on her birthday.
"Don't you--love me--still?" he asked, huskily.
"Why, of course, Lee! I don't change," she said.
"But then, why--" There for the moment his utterance or courage failed.
"Lee, do you want the honest to God's truth?"
"I reckon--I do."
"Well, I love you just as I always did," replied Flo, earnestly. "But,Lee, I love him more than you or anybody."
"My Heaven! Flo--you'll ruin us all!" he exclaimed, hoarsely.
"No, I won't either. You can't say I'm not level headed. I hated to tellyou this, Lee, but you made me."
"Flo, you love me an' him--two men?" queried Stanton, incredulously.
"I shore do," she drawled, with a soft laugh. "And it's no fun."
"Reckon I don't cut much of a figure alongside Kilbourne," said Stanton,disconsolately.
"Lee, you could stand alongside any man," replied Flo, eloquently."You're Western, and you're steady and loyal, and you'll--well, someday you'll be like dad. Could I say more?... But, Lee, this man isdifferent. He is wonderful. I can't explain it, but I feel it. He hasbeen through hell's fire. Oh! will I ever forget his ravings when helay so ill? He means more to me than just one man. He's American. You'reAmerican, too, Lee, and you trained to be a soldier, and you would havemade a grand one--if I know old Arizona. But you were not called toFrance.... Glenn Kilbourne went. God only knows what that means. But hewent. And there's the difference. I saw the wreck of him. I did a littleto save his life and his mind. I wouldn't be an American girl if Ididn't love him.... Oh, Lee, can't you understand?"
"I reckon so. I'm not begrudging Glenn what--what you care. I'm onlyafraid I'll lose you."
"I never promised to marry you, did I?"
"Not in words. But kisses ought to--?"
"Yes, kisses mean a lot," she replied. "And so far I stand committed.I suppose I'll marry you some day and be blamed lucky. I'll be happy,too--don't you overlook that hunch.... You needn't worry. Glenn is inlove with Carley. She's beautiful, rich--and of his class. How could heever see me?"
"Flo, you can never tell," replied Stanton, thoughtfully. "I didn't likeher at first. But I'm comin' round. The thing is, Flo, does she love himas you love him?"
"Oh, I think so--I hope so," answered Flo, as if in distress.
"I'm not so shore. But then I can't savvy her. Lord knows I hope so,too. If she doesn't--if she goes back East an' leaves him here--I reckonmy case--"
"Hush! I know she's out here to take him back. Let's go downstairs now."
"Aw, wait--Flo," he begged. "What's your hurry?... Come-give me--"
"There! That's all you get, birthday or no birthday," replied Flo,gayly.
Carley heard the soft kiss and Stanton's deep breath, and then footstepsas they walked away in the gloom toward the stairway. Carley leanedagainst the log wall. She felt the rough wood--smelled the rusty pinerosin. Her other hand pressed her bosom where her heart beat withunwonted vigor. Footsteps and voices sounded beneath her. Twilight haddeepened into night. The low murmur of the waterfall and the babble ofthe brook floated to her strained ears.
Listeners never heard good of themselves. But Stanton's subtle doubt ofany depth to her, though it hurt, was not so conflicting as the ringingtruth of F
lo Hutter's love for Glenn. This unsought knowledge powerfullyaffected Carley. She was forewarned and forearmed now. It saddened her,yet did not lessen her confidence in her hold on Glenn. But it stirredto perplexing pitch her curiosity in regard to the mystery that seemedto cling round Glenn's transformation of character. This Western girlreally knew more about Glenn than his fiancee knew. Carley suffereda humiliating shock when she realized that she had been thinking ofherself, of her love, her life, her needs, her wants instead of Glenn's.It took no keen intelligence or insight into human nature to see thatGlenn needed her more than she needed him.
Thus unwontedly stirred and upset and flung back upon pride of herself,Carley went downstairs to meet the assembled company. And never hadshe shown to greater contrast, never had circumstance and state of mindcontrived to make her so radiant and gay and unbending. She heardmany remarks not intended for her far-reaching ears. An old grizzledWesterner remarked to Hutter: "Wall, she's shore an unbroke filly."Another of the company--a woman--remarked: "Sweet an' pretty as acolumbine. But I'd like her better if she was dressed decent." And agaunt range rider, who stood with others at the porch door, looking on,asked a comrade: "Do you reckon that's style back East?" To which theother replied: "Mebbe, but I'd gamble they're short on silk back Eastan' likewise sheriffs."
Carley received some meed of gratification out of the sensation shecreated, but she did not carry her craving for it to the point ofovershadowing Flo. On the contrary, she contrived to have Flo share theattention she received. She taught Flo to dance the fox-trot and gotGlenn to dance with her. Then she taught it to Lee Stanton. And when Leedanced with Flo, to the infinite wonder and delight of the onlookers,Carley experienced her first sincere enjoyment of the evening.
Her moment came when she danced with Glenn. It reminded her of dayslong past and which she wanted to return again. Despite war tramping andWestern labors Glenn retained something of his old grace and lightness.But just to dance with him was enough to swell her heart, and for onceshe grew oblivious to the spectators.
"Glenn, would you like to go to the Plaza with me again, and dancebetween dinner courses, as we used to?" she whispered up to him.
"Sure I would--unless Morrison knew you were to be there," he replied.
"Glenn!... I would not even see him."
"Any old time you wouldn't see Morrison!" he exclaimed, half mockingly.
His doubt, his tone grated upon her. Pressing closer to him, she said,"Come back and I'll prove it."
But he laughed and had no answer for her. At her own daring wordsCarley's heart had leaped to her lips. If he had responded, eventeasingly, she could have burst out with her longing to take him back.But silence inhibited her, and the moment passed.
At the end of that dance Hutter claimed Glenn in the interest ofneighboring sheep men. And Carley, crossing the big living room alone,passed close to one of the porch doors. Some one, indistinct in theshadow, spoke to her in low voice: "Hello, pretty eyes!"
Carley felt a little cold shock go tingling through her. But she gave nosign that she had heard. She recognized the voice and also the epithet.Passing to the other side of the room and joining the company there,Carley presently took a casual glance at the door. Several men werelounging there. One of them was the sheep dipper, Haze Ruff. His boldeyes were on her now, and his coarse face wore a slight, meaning smile,as if he understood something about her that was a secret to others.Carley dropped her eyes. But she could not shake off the feeling thatwherever she moved this man's gaze followed her. The unpleasantnessof this incident would have been nothing to Carley had she at onceforgotten it. Most unaccountably, however, she could not make herselfunaware of this ruffian's attention. It did no good for her to arguethat she was merely the cynosure of all eyes. This Ruff's tone and lookpossessed something heretofore unknown to Carley. Once she was temptedto tell Glenn. But that would only cause a fight, so she kept hercounsel. She danced again, and helped Flo entertain her guests, andpassed that door often; and once stood before it, deliberately, with allthe strange and contrary impulse so inscrutable in a woman, and neverfor a moment wholly lost the sense of the man's boldness. It dawnedupon her, at length, that the singular thing about this boldness wasits difference from any, which had ever before affronted her. The fool'ssmile meant that he thought she saw his attention, and, understandingit perfectly, had secret delight in it. Many and various had been themasculine egotisms which had come under her observation. But quitebeyond Carley was this brawny sheep dipper, Haze Ruff. Once the partybroke up and the guests had departed, she instantly forgot both man andincident.
Next day, late in the afternoon, when Carley came out on the porch, shewas hailed by Flo, who had just ridden in from down the canyon.
"Hey Carley, come down. I shore have something to tell you," she called.
Carley did not use any time pattering down that rude porch stairway.Flo was dusty and hot, and her chaps carried the unmistakable scent ofsheep-dip.
"Been over to Ryan's camp an' shore rode hard to beat Glenn home,"drawled Flo.
"Why?" queried Carley, eagerly.
"Reckon I wanted to tell you something Glenn swore he wouldn't let metell. ... He makes me tired. He thinks you can't stand things."
"Oh! Has he been--hurt?"
"He's skinned an' bruised up some, but I reckon he's not hurt."
"Flo--what happened?" demanded Carley, anxiously.
"Carley, do you know Glenn can fight like the devil?" asked Flo.
"No, I don't. But I remember he used to be athletic. Flo, you make menervous. Did Glenn fight?"
"I reckon he did," drawled Flo.
"With whom?"
"Nobody else but that big hombre, Haze Ruff."
"Oh!" gasped Carley, with a violent start. "That--that ruffian! Flo, didyou see--were you there?"
"I shore was, an' next to a horse race I like a fight," replied theWestern girl. "Carley, why didn't you tell me Haze Ruff insulted youlast night?"
"Why, Flo--he only said, 'Hello, pretty eyes,' and I let it pass!" saidCarley, lamely.
"You never want to let anything pass, out West. Because next time you'llget worse. This turn your other cheek doesn't go in Arizona. Butwe shore thought Ruff said worse than that. Though from him that'saplenty."
"How did you know?"
"Well, Charley told it. He was standing out here by the door last nightan' he heard Ruff speak to you. Charley thinks a heap of you an' Ireckon he hates Ruff. Besides, Charley stretches things. He shore riledGlenn, an' I want to say, my dear, you missed the best thing that'shappened since you got here."
"Hurry--tell me," begged Carley, feeling the blood come to her face.
"I rode over to Ryan's place for dad, an' when I got there I knewnothing about what Ruff said to you," began Flo, and she took hold ofCarley's hand. "Neither did dad. You see, Glenn hadn't got there yet.Well, just as the men had finished dipping a bunch of sheep Glenn cameriding down, lickety cut."
"'Now what the hell's wrong with Glenn?' said dad, getting up from wherewe sat.
"Shore I knew Glenn was mad, though I never before saw him that way.He looked sort of grim an' black.... Well, he rode right down on us an'piled off. Dad yelled at him an' so did I. But Glenn made for the sheeppen. You know where we watched Haze Ruff an' Lorenzo slinging the sheepinto the dip. Ruff was just about to climb out over the fence when Glennleaped up on it."
"'Say, Ruff,' he said, sort of hard, 'Charley an' Ben tell me they heardyou speak disrespectfully to Miss Burch last night.'"
"Dad an' I ran to the fence, but before we could catch hold of Glennhe'd jumped down into the pen."
"'I'm not carin' much for what them herders say,' replied Ruff.
"'Do you deny it?' demanded Glenn.
"'I ain't denyin' nothin', Kilbourne,' growled Ruff. 'I might argueagainst me bein' disrespectful. That's a matter of opinion.'
"'You'll apologize for speaking to Miss Burch or I'll beat you up an'have Hutter fire you.'
"'Wal, Kilbourne, I never e
at my words,' replied Ruff.
"Then Glenn knocked him flat. You ought to have heard that crack.Sounded like Charley hitting a steer with a club. Dad yelled: 'Look out,Glenn. He packs a gun!'--Ruff got up mad clear through I reckon. Thenthey mixed it. Ruff got in some swings, but he couldn't reach Glenn'sface. An' Glenn batted him right an' left, every time in his uglymug. Ruff got all bloody an' he cussed something awful. Glenn beat himagainst the fence an' then we all saw Ruff reach for a gun or knife. Allthe men yelled. An' shore I screamed. But Glenn saw as much as we saw.He got fiercer. He beat Ruff down to his knees an' swung on him hard.Deliberately knocked Ruff into the dip ditch. What a splash! It wet allof us. Ruff went out of sight. Then he rolled up like a huge hog. Wewere all scared now. That dip's rank poison, you know. Reckon Ruff knewthat. He floundered along an' crawled up at the end. Anyone couldsee that he had mouth an' eyes tight shut. He began to grope an' feelaround, trying to find the way to the pond. One of the men led him out.It was great to see him wade in the water an' wallow an' souse his headunder. When he came out the men got in front of him any stopped him.He shore looked bad.... An' Glenn called to him, 'Ruff, that sheep-dipwon't go through your tough hide, but a bullet will!"
Not long after this incident Carley started out on her usual afternoonride, having arranged with Glenn to meet her on his return from work.
Toward the end of June Carley had advanced in her horsemanship to apoint where Flo lent her one of her own mustangs. This change might nothave had all to do with a wonderful difference in riding, but it seemedso to Carley. There was as much difference in horses as in people. Thismustang she had ridden of late was of Navajo stock, but he had been bornand raised and broken at Oak Creek. Carley had not yet discovered anyobjection on his part to do as she wanted him to. He liked what sheliked, and most of all he liked to go. His color resembled a patternof calico, and in accordance with Western ways his name was thereforeCalico. Left to choose his own gait, Calico always dropped into a gentlepace which was so easy and comfortable and swinging that Carley nevertired of it. Moreover, he did not shy at things lying in the road orrabbits darting from bushes or at the upwhirring of birds. Carley hadgrown attached to Calico before she realized she was drifting into it;and for Carley to care for anything or anybody was a serious matter,because it did not happen often and it lasted. She was exceedinglytenacious of affection.
June had almost passed and summer lay upon the lonely land. Such perfectand wonderful weather had never before been Carley's experience. Thedawns broke cool, fresh, fragrant, sweet, and rosy, with a breeze thatseemed of heaven rather than earth, and the air seemed tremulously fullof the murmur of falling water and the melody of mocking birds. At thesolemn noontides the great white sun glared down hot--so hot thatit burned the skin, yet strangely was a pleasant burn. The waningafternoons were Carley's especial torment, when it seemed the sounds andwinds of the day were tiring, and all things were seeking repose, andlife must soften to an unthinking happiness. These hours troubled Carleybecause she wanted them to last, and because she knew for her thischanging and transforming time could not last. So long as she did notthink she was satisfied.
Maples and sycamores and oaks were in full foliage, and their brightgreens contrasted softly with the dark shine of the pines. Through thespaces between brown tree trunks and the white-spotted holes of thesycamores gleamed the amber water of the creek. Always there was murmurof little rills and the musical dash of little rapids. On the surfaceof still, shady pools trout broke to make ever-widening ripples. Indianpaintbrush, so brightly carmine in color, lent touch of fire to thegreen banks, and under the oaks, in cool dark nooks where mossy bowlderslined the stream, there were stately nodding yellow columbines. And highon the rock ledges shot up the wonderful mescal stalks, beginning toblossom, some with tints of gold and others with tones of red.
Riding along down the canyon, under its looming walls, Carley wonderedthat if unawares to her these physical aspects of Arizona could havebecome more significant than she realized. The thought had confrontedher before. Here, as always, she fought it and denied it by the simpledefense of elimination. Yet refusing to think of a thing when it seemedever present was not going to do forever. Insensibly and subtly it mightget a hold on her, never to be broken. Yet it was infinitely easier todream than to think.
But the thought encroached upon her that it was not a dreamful habit ofmind she had fallen into of late. When she dreamed or mused she livedvaguely and sweetly over past happy hours or dwelt in enchanted fancyupon a possible future. Carley had been told by a Columbia professorthat she was a type of the present age--a modern young woman ofmaterialistic mind. Be that as it might, she knew many things seemedloosening from the narrowness and tightness of her character, sloughingaway like scales, exposing a new and strange and susceptible softnessof fiber. And this blank habit of mind, when she did not think, andnow realized that she was not dreaming, seemed to be the body of CarleyBurch, and her heart and soul stripped of a shell. Nerve and emotionand spirit received something from her surroundings. She absorbed herenvironment. She felt. It was a delightful state. But when her ownconsciousness caused it to elude her, then she both resented andregretted. Anything that approached permanent attachment to this crudeand untenanted West Carley would not tolerate for a moment. Reluctantlyshe admitted it had bettered her health, quickened her blood, and quiterelegated Florida and the Adirondacks, to little consideration.
"Well, as I told Glenn," soliloquized Carley, "every time I'm almostwon over a little to Arizona she gives me a hard jolt. I'm getting nearbeing mushy today. Now let's see what I'll get. I suppose that's mypessimism or materialism. Funny how Glenn keeps saying its the jolts,the hard knocks, the fights that are best to remember afterward. I don'tget that at all."
Five miles below West Fork a road branched off and climbed the left sideof the canyon. It was a rather steep road, long and zigzaging, and fullof rocks and ruts. Carley did not enjoy ascending it, but she preferredthe going up to coming down. It took half an hour to climb.
Once up on the flat cedar-dotted desert she was met, full in the face,by a hot dusty wind coming from the south. Carley searched her pocketsfor her goggles, only to ascertain that she had forgotten them. Nothing,except a freezing sleety wind, annoyed and punished Carley so much asa hard puffy wind, full of sand and dust. Somewhere along the first fewmiles of this road she was to meet Glenn. If she turned back for anycause he would be worried, and, what concerned her more vitally, hewould think she had not the courage to face a little dust. So Carleyrode on.
The wind appeared to be gusty. It would blow hard awhile, then lullfor a few moments. On the whole, however, it increased in volume andpersistence until she was riding against a gale. She had now come to abare, flat, gravelly region, scant of cedars and brush, and far aheadshe could see a dull yellow pall rising high into the sky. It was aduststorm and it was sweeping down on the wings of that gale. Carleyremembered that somewhere along this flat there was a log cabin whichhad before provided shelter for her and Flo when they were caught in arainstorm. It seemed unlikely that she had passed by this cabin.
Resolutely she faced the gale and knew she had a task to find thatrefuge. If there had been a big rock or bushy cedar to offer shelter shewould have welcomed it. But there was nothing. When the hard dustygusts hit her, she found it absolutely necessary to shut her eyes. Atintervals less windy she opened them, and rode on, peering throughthe yellow gloom for the cabin. Thus she got her eyes full of dust--analkali dust that made them sting and smart. The fiercer puffs of windcarried pebbles large enough to hurt severely. Then the dust cloggedher nose and sand got between her teeth. Added to these annoyances was aheat like a blast from a furnace. Carley perspired freely and that cakedthe dust on her face. She rode on, gradually growing more uncomfortableand miserable. Yet even then she did not utterly lose a sort ofthrilling zest in being thrown upon her own responsibility. She couldhate an obstacle, yet feel something of pride in holding her own againstit.
Another mile of bu
ffeting this increasing gale so exhausted Carley andwrought upon her nerves that she became nearly panic-stricken. It grewharder and harder not to turn back. At last she was about to give upwhen right at hand through the flying dust she espied the cabin. Ridingbehind it, she dismounted and tied the mustang to a post. Then she ranaround to the door and entered.
What a welcome refuge! She was all right now, and when Glenn came alongshe would have added to her already considerable list another feat forwhich he would commend her. With aid of her handkerchief, and thetears that flowed so copiously, Carley presently freed her eyes ofthe blinding dust. But when she essayed to remove it from her face shediscovered she would need a towel and soap and hot water.
The cabin appeared to be enveloped in a soft, swishing, hollow sound.It seeped and rustled. Then the sound lulled, only to rise again.Carley went to the door, relieved and glad to see that the duststorm wasblowing by. The great sky-high pall of yellow had moved on to thenorth. Puffs of dust were whipping along the road, but no longer inone continuous cloud. In the west, low down the sun was sinking, a dullmagenta in hue, quite weird and remarkable.
"I knew I'd get the jolt all right," soliloquized Carley, wearily, asshe walked to a rude couch of poles and sat down upon it. She had begunto cool off. And there, feeling dirty and tired, and slowly wearing tothe old depression, she composed herself to wait.
Suddenly she heard the clip-clop of hoofs. "There! that's Glenn," shecried, gladly, and rising, she ran to the door.
She saw a big bay horse bearing a burly rider. He discovered her at thesame instant, and pulled his horse.
"Ho! Ho! if it ain't Pretty Eyes!" he called out, in gay, coarse voice.
Carley recognized the voice, and then the epithet, before her sightestablished the man as Haze Ruff. A singular stultifying shock passedover her.
"Wal, by all thet's lucky!" he said, dismounting. "I knowed we'd meetsome day. I can't say I just laid fer you, but I kept my eyes open."
Manifestly he knew she was alone, for he did not glance into the cabin.
"I'm waiting for--Glenn," she said, with lips she tried to make stiff.
"Shore I reckoned thet," he replied, genially. "But he won't be alongyet awhile."
He spoke with a cheerful inflection of tone, as if the fact designatedwas one that would please her; and his swarthy, seamy face expanded intoa good-humored, meaning smile. Then without any particular rudeness hepushed her back from the door, into the cabin, and stepped across thethreshold.
"How dare--you!" cried Carley. A hot anger that stirred in her seemedto be beaten down and smothered by a cold shaking internal commotion,threatening collapse. This man loomed over her, huge, somehow monstrousin his brawny uncouth presence. And his knowing smile, and the hard,glinting twinkle of his light eyes, devilishly intelligent and keen, inno wise lessened the sheer brutal force of him physically. Sight of hisbulk was enough to terrorize Carley.
"Me! Aw, I'm a darin' hombre an' a devil with the wimmin," he said, witha guffaw.
Carley could not collect her wits. The instant of his pushing her backinto the cabin and following her had shocked her and almost paralyzedher will. If she saw him now any the less fearful she could not soquickly rally her reason to any advantage.
"Let me out of here," she demanded.
"Nope. I'm a-goin' to make a little love to you," he said, and hereached for her with great hairy hands.
Carley saw in them the strength that had so easily swung the sheep. Shesaw, too, that they were dirty, greasy hands. And they made her fleshcreep.
"Glenn will kill--you," she panted.
"What fer?" he queried, in real or pretended surprise. "Aw, I knowwimmin. You'll never tell him."
"Yes, I will."
"Wal, mebbe. I reckon you're lyin', Pretty Eyes," he replied, with agrin. "Anyhow, I'll take a chance."
"I tell you--he'll kill you," repeated Carley, backing away until herweak knees came against the couch.
"What fer, I ask you?" he demanded.
"For this--this insult."
"Huh! I'd like to know who's insulted you. Can't a man take aninvitation to kiss an' hug a girl--without insultin' her?"
"Invitation!... Are you crazy?" queried Carley, bewildered.
"Nope, I'm not crazy, an' I shore said invitation.... I meant thet whiteshimmy dress you wore the night of Flo's party. Thet's my invitation toget a little fresh with you, Pretty Eyes!"
Carley could only stare at him. His words seemed to have some peculiar,unanswerable power.
"Wal, if it wasn't an invitation, what was it?" he asked, with anotherstep that brought him within reach of her. He waited for her answer,which was not forthcoming.
"Wal, you're gettin' kinda pale around the gills," he went on,derisively. "I reckoned you was a real sport.... Come here."
He fastened one of his great hands in the front of her coat and gaveher a pull. So powerful was it that Carley came hard against him, almostknocking her breathless. There he held her a moment and then put hisother arm round her. It seemed to crush both breath and sense outof her. Suddenly limp, she sank strengthless. She seemed reeling indarkness. Then she felt herself thrust away from him with violence. Shesank on the couch and her head and shoulders struck the wall.
"Say, if you're a-goin' to keel over like thet I pass," declared Ruff,in disgust. "Can't you Eastern wimmin stand nothin?"
Carley's eyes opened and beheld this man in an attitude of supremelyderisive protest.
"You look like a sick kitten," he added. "When I get me a sweetheart orwife I want her to be a wild cat."
His scorn and repudiation of her gave Carley intense relief. She sat upand endeavored to collect her shattered nerves. Ruff gazed down at herwith great disapproval and even disappointment.
"Say, did you have some fool idee I was a-goin' to kill you?" hequeried, gruffly.
"I'm afraid--I did," faltered Carley. Her relief was a release; it wasso strange that it was gratefulness.
"Wal, I reckon I wouldn't have hurt you. None of these flop-over Janesfor me!... An' I'll give you a hunch, Pretty Eyes. You might have runacrost a fellar thet was no gentleman!"
Of all the amazing statements that had ever been made to Carley, thisone seemed the most remarkable.
"What'd you wear thet onnatural white dress fer?" he demanded, as if hehad a right to be her judge.
"Unnatural?" echoed Carley.
"Shore. Thet's what I said. Any woman's dress without top or bottomis onnatural. It's not right. Why, you looked like--like"--here hefloundered for adequate expression--"like one of the devil's angels. An'I want to hear why you wore it."
"For the same reason I'd wear any dress," she felt forced to reply.
"Pretty Eyes, thet's a lie. An' you know it's a lie. You wore thet whitedress to knock the daylights out of men. Only you ain't honest enoughto say so.... Even me or my kind! Even us, who're dirt under your littlefeet. But all the same we're men, an' mebbe better men than you think.If you had to put that dress on, why didn't you stay in your room? Naw,you had to come down an' strut around an' show off your beauty. An' Iask you--if you're a nice girl like Flo Hutter--what'd you wear it fer?"
Carley not only was mute; she felt rise and burn in her a singular shameand surprise.
"I'm only a sheep dipper," went on Ruff, "but I ain't no fool. A fellardoesn't have to live East an' wear swell clothes to have sense. Mebbeyou'll learn thet the West is bigger'n you think. A man's a man East orWest. But if your Eastern men stand for such dresses as thet whiteone they'd do well to come out West awhile, like your lover, GlennKilbourne. I've been rustlin' round here ten years, an' I never beforeseen a dress like yours--an' I never heerd of a girl bein' insulted,either. Mebbe you think I insulted you. Wal, I didn't. Fer I reckonnothin' could insult you in thet dress.... An' my last hunch is this,Pretty Eyes. You're not what a hombre like me calls either square orgame. Adios."
His bulky figure darkened the doorway, passed out, and the light of thesky streamed into the cabin again. Carley sat
staring. She heard Ruff'sspurs tinkle, then the ring of steel on stirrup, a sodden leathery soundas he mounted, and after that a rapid pound of hoofs, quickly dyingaway.
He was gone. She had escaped something raw and violent. Dazedly sherealized it, with unutterable relief. And she sat there slowly gatheringthe nervous force that had been shattered. Every word that he haduttered was stamped in startling characters upon her consciousness.But she was still under the deadening influence of shock. This rawexperience was the worst the West had yet dealt her. It brought backformer states of revulsion and formed them in one whole irrefutable anddamning judgment that seemed to blot out the vaguely dawning and growinghappy susceptibilities. It was, perhaps, just as well to have her mindreverted to realistic fact. The presence of Haze Ruff, the astoundingtruth of the contact with his huge sheep-defiled hands, had beenprofanation and degradation under which she sickened with fear andshame. Yet hovering back of her shame and rising anger seemed to be apale, monstrous, and indefinable thought, insistent and accusing, withwhich she must sooner or later reckon. It might have been the voice ofthe new side of her nature, but at that moment of outraged womanhood,and of revolt against the West, she would not listen. It might, too,have been the still small voice of conscience. But decision of mindand energy coming to her then, she threw off the burden of emotion andperplexity, and forced herself into composure before the arrival ofGlenn.
The dust had ceased to blow, although the wind had by no means diedaway. Sunset marked the west in old rose and gold, a vast flare. Carleyespied a horseman far down the road, and presently recognized both riderand steed. He was coming fast. She went out and, mounting her mustang,she rode out to meet Glenn. It did not appeal to her to wait for himat the cabin; besides hoof tracks other than those made by her mustangmight have been noticed by Glenn. Presently he came up to her and pulledhis loping horse.
"Hello! I sure was worried," was his greeting, as his gloved hand wentout to her. "Did you run into that sandstorm?"
"It ran into me, Glenn, and buried me," she laughed.
His fine eyes lingered on her face with glad and warm glance, and thekeen, apprehensive penetration of a lover.
"Well, under all that dust you look scared," he said.
"Scared! I was worse than that. When I first ran into the flying dirt Iwas only afraid I'd lose my way--and my complexion. But when the worstof the storm hit me--then I feared I'd lose my breath."
"Did you face that sand and ride through it all?" he queried.
"No, not all. But enough. I went through the worst of it before Ireached the cabin," she replied.
"Wasn't it great?"
"Yes--great bother and annoyance," she said, laconically.
Whereupon he reached with long, arm and wrapped it round her as theyrocked side by side. Demonstrations of this nature were infrequent withGlenn. Despite losing one foot out of a stirrup and her seat in thesaddle Carley rather encouraged it. He kissed her dusty face, and thenset her back.
"By George! Carley, sometimes I think you've changed since you've beenhere," he said, with warmth. "To go through that sandstorm without onekick--one knock at my West!"
"Glenn, I always think of what Flo says--the worst is yet to come,"replied Carley, trying to hide her unreasonable and tumultuous pleasureat words of praise from him.
"Carley Burch, you don't know yourself," he declared, enigmatically.
"What woman knows herself? But do you know me?"
"Not I. Yet sometimes I see depths in you--wonderfulpossibilities--submerged under your poise--under your fixed, complacentidle attitude toward life."
This seemed for Carley to be dangerously skating near thin ice, but shecould not resist a retort:
"Depths in me? Why I am a shallow, transparent stream like your WestFork! ... And as for possibilities--may I ask what of them you imagineyou see?"
"As a girl, before you were claimed by the world, you were earnest atheart. You had big hopes and dreams. And you had intellect, too. But youhave wasted your talents, Carley. Having money, and spending it, livingfor pleasure, you have not realized your powers.... Now, don't lookhurt. I'm not censuring you. It's just the way of modern life. And mostof your friends have been more careless, thoughtless, useless than you.The aim of their existence is to be comfortable, free from work, worry,pain. They want pleasure, luxury. And what a pity it is! The best of yougirls regard marriage as an escape, instead of responsibility. You don'tmarry to get your shoulders square against the old wheel of Americanprogress--to help some man make good--to bring a troop of healthyAmerican kids into the world. You bare your shoulders to the gaze of themultitude and like it best if you are strung with pearls."
"Glenn, you distress me when you talk like this," replied Carley,soberly. "You did not use to talk so. It seems to me you are bitteragainst women."
"Oh no, Carley! I am only sad," he said. "I only see where once I wasblind. American women are the finest on earth, but as a race, if theydon't change, they're doomed to extinction."
"How can you say such things?" demanded Carley, with spirit.
"I say them because they are true. Carley, on the level now, tell me howmany of your immediate friends have children."
Put to a test, Carley rapidly went over in mind her circle of friends,with the result that she was somewhat shocked and amazed to realize howfew of them were even married, and how the babies of her acquaintancewere limited to three. It was not easy to admit this to Glenn.
"My dear," replied he, "if that does not show you the handwriting on thewall, nothing ever will."
"A girl has to find a husband, doesn't she?" asked Carley, roused todefense of her sex. "And if she's anybody she has to find one in herset. Well, husbands are not plentiful. Marriage certainly is not the endof existence these days. We have to get along somehow. The high cost ofliving is no inconsderable factor today. Do you know that most of thebetter-class apartment houses in New York will not take children? Womenare not all to blame. Take the speed mania. Men must have automobiles.I know one girl who wanted a baby, but her husband wanted a car. Theycouldn't afford both."
"Carley, I'm not blaming women more than men," returned Glenn. "I don'tknow that I blame them as a class. But in my own mind I have worked itall out. Every man or woman who is genuinely American should read thesigns of the times, realize the crisis, and meet it in an American way.Otherwise we are done as a race. Money is God in the older countries.But it should never become God in America. If it does we will make thefall of Rome pale into insignificance."
"Glenn, let's put off the argument," appealed Carley. "I'm not--just upto fighting you today. Oh--you needn't smile. I'm not showing a yellowstreak, as Flo puts it. I'll fight you some other time."
"You're right, Carley," he assented. "Here we are loafing six or sevenmiles from home. Let's rustle along."
Riding fast with Glenn was something Carley had only of late added toher achievements. She had greatest pride in it. So she urged her mustangto keep pace with Glenn's horse and gave herself up to the thrill of themotion and feel of wind and sense of flying along. At a good swinginglope Calico covered ground swiftly and did not tire. Carley rode the twomiles to the rim of the canyon, keeping alongside of Glenn all the way.Indeed, for one long level stretch she and Glenn held hands. When theyarrived at the descent, which necessitated slow and careful riding,she was hot and tingling and breathless, worked by the action into anexuberance of pleasure. Glenn complimented her riding as well as herrosy cheeks. There was indeed a sweetness in working at a task as shehad worked to learn to ride in Western fashion. Every turn of her mindseemed to confront her with sobering antitheses of thought. Why had shecome to love to ride down a lonely desert road, through ragged cedarswhere the wind whipped her face with fragrant wild breath, if at thesame time she hated the West? Could she hate a country, however barrenand rough, if it had saved the health and happiness of her futurehusband? Verily there were problems for Carley to solve.
Early twilight purple lay low in the hollows and clefts of the
canyon.Over the western rim a pale ghost of the evening star seemed to smileat Carley, to bid her look and look. Like a strain of distant music, thedreamy hum of falling water, the murmur and melody of the stream, cameagain to Carley's sensitive ear.
"Do you love this?" asked Glenn, when they reached the green-forestedcanyon floor, with the yellow road winding away into the purple shadows.
"Yes, both the ride--and you," flashed Carley, contrarily. She knew hehad meant the deep-walled canyon with its brooding solitude.
"But I want you to love Arizona," he said.
"Glenn, I'm a faithful creature. You should be glad of that. I love NewYork."
"Very well, then. Arizona to New York," he said, lightly brushing hercheek with his lips. And swerving back into his saddle, he spurred hishorse and called back over his shoulder: "That mustang and Flo havebeaten me many a time. Come on."
It was not so much his words as his tone and look that roused Carley.Had he resented her loyalty to the city of her nativity? Always therewas a little rift in the lute. Had his tone and look meant that Flomight catch him if Carley could not? Absurd as the idea was, it spurredher to recklessness. Her mustang did not need any more than to know shewanted him to run. The road was of soft yellow earth flanked with greenfoliage and overspread by pines. In a moment she was racing at a speedshe had never before half attained on a horse. Down the winding roadGlenn's big steed sped, his head low, his stride tremendous, his actionbeautiful. But Carley saw the distance between them diminishing. Calicowas overtaking the bay. She cried out in the thrilling excitement of themoment. Glenn saw her gaining and pressed his mount to greater speed.Still he could not draw away from Calico. Slowly the little mustanggained. It seemed to Carley that riding him required no effort at all.And at such fast pace, with the wind roaring in her ears, the walls ofgreen vague and continuous in her sight, the sting of pine tips on cheekand neck, the yellow road streaming toward her, under her, there roseout of the depths of her, out of the tumult of her breast, a sense ofglorious exultation. She closed in on Glenn. From the flying hoofs ofhis horse shot up showers of damp sand and gravel that covered Carley'sriding habit and spattered in her face. She had to hold up a hand beforeher eyes. Perhaps this caused her to lose something of her confidence,or her swing in the saddle, for suddenly she realized she was not ridingwell. The pace was too fast for her inexperience. But nothing could havestopped her then. No fear or awkwardness of hers should be allowed tohamper that thoroughbred mustang. Carley felt that Calico understoodthe situation; or at least he knew he could catch and pass this big bayhorse, and he intended to do it. Carley was hard put to it to hang onand keep the flying sand from blinding her.
When Calico drew alongside the bay horse and brought Carley breast tobreast with Glenn, and then inch by inch forged ahead of him, Carleypealed out an exultant cry. Either it frightened Calico or inspiredhim, for he shot right ahead of Glenn's horse. Then he lost the smooth,wonderful action. He seemed hurtling through space at the expenseof tremendous muscular action. Carley could feel it. She lost herequilibrium. She seemed rushing through a blurred green and black aisleof the forest with a gale in her face. Then, with a sharp jolt, a break,Calico plunged to the sand. Carley felt herself propelled forward outof the saddle into the air, and down to strike with a sliding, stunningforce that ended in sudden dark oblivion.
Upon recovering consciousness she first felt a sensation of oppressionin her chest and a dull numbness of her whole body. When she opened hereyes she saw Glenn bending over her, holding her head on his knee. Awet, cold, reviving sensation evidently came from the handkerchief withwhich he was mopping her face.
"Carley, you can't be hurt--really!" he was ejaculating, in eager hope."It was some spill. But you lit on the sand and slid. You can't behurt."
The look of his eyes, the tone of his voice, the feel of his hands weresuch that Carley chose for a moment to pretend to be very badlyhurt indeed. It was worth taking a header to get so much from GlennKilbourne. But she believed she had suffered no more than a severebruising and scraping.
"Glenn--dear," she whispered, very low and very eloquently. "I think--myback--is broken.... You'll be free--soon."
Glenn gave a terrible start and his face turned a deathly white. Heburst out with quavering, inarticulate speech.
Carley gazed up at him and then closed her eyes. She could not look athim while carrying on such deceit. Yet the sight of him and the feel ofhim then were inexpressibly blissful to her. What she needed most wasassurance of his love. She had it. Beyond doubt, beyond morbid fancy,the truth had proclaimed itself, filling her heart with joy.
Suddenly she flung her arms up around his neck. "Oh--Glenn! It was toogood a chance to miss!... I'm not hurt a bit."
