by B. M. Bower
CHAPTER 2. Miss Conroy Refuses Shelter.
The storm lifted suddenly, as storms have a way of doing, and a low,squat ranch-house stood dimly revealed against the bleak expanse ofwind-tortured prairie. Rowdy gave an exultant little whoop and made forthe gate, leaned and swung it open and rode through, dragging Chub afterhim by main strength, as usual. When he turned to close the gate afterMiss Conroy he found her standing still in the lane.
"Come on in," he called, with a trace of impatience born of hisweariness and hunger.
"Thank you, no." Miss Conroy's voice was as crisply cold as the windwhich fluttered the Navajo blanket around her face. "I much prefer theblizzard."
For a moment Rowdy found nothing to say; he just stared. Miss Conroyshifted uneasily in the saddle.
"This is old Bill Brown's place," she explained reluctantly. "He--I'drather freeze than go in!"
"Well, I guess that won't be hard to do," he retorted curtly, "if youstay out much longer."
The dog was growing hysterical over their presence, and Bill Brownhimself came out to see what it was all about. He could see two dimfigures at the gate.
"Hello!" he shouted. "Why don't yuh come on in? What yuh standing therechewing the rag for?"
Vaughan hesitated, his eyes upon Miss Conroy.
"Go in," she commanded imperiously, quite as if he were a refractorypupil. "You're tired out, and hungry. I'm neither. Besides, I know whereI am now. I can find my way without any trouble. Go in, I tell you!"
But Rowdy stayed where he was, with the gate creaking to and fro betweenthem. Dixie circled till his back was to the wind. "I hope you don'tthink you're going to mill around out here alone," Rowdy said tartly.
"I can manage very well. I'm not lost now, I tell you. Rodway's is onlythree miles from here, and I know the direction."
Bill Brown waded out to them, wondering what weighty discussion waskeeping them there in the cold. Vaughan he passed by with the cursoryglance of a disinterested stranger, and went on to where Miss Conroywaited stubbornly in the lane.
"Oh, it's you!" he said grimly. "Well, come in and thaw out; I hope yuhdidn't think yuh wouldn't be welcome yuh knew better. You got lost, Ireckon. Come on--"
Miss Conroy struck Badger sharply across the flank and disappeared intothe night. "When I ask shelter of you," she flung back, "you'll knowit."
Rowdy started after, and met Bill Brown squarely in the gate. Bill eyedhim sharply. "Say, young fellow, how'd you come by that packhorse?" hedemanded, as Chub brushed past him.
"None of your damn' business," snapped Rowdy, and drove the spurs intoDixie's ribs. But Chub was a handicap at any time; now, when he wastired, there was no getting anything like speed out of him; he clung tohis shuffling trot, which was really no better than a walk. Afterfive minutes spent alternately in spurring Dixie and yanking at Chub'slead-rope, Rowdy grew frightened and took to shouting. While they werein the lane Miss Conroy must perforce ride straight ahead, but the lanewould not last always. As though with malicious intent, the snow swoopeddown again and the world became an unreal, nightmare world, wherein wasnothing save shifting, blinding snowfloury and wind and bitter, numbingcold.
Rowdy stood in his stirrups, cupped his chilled fingers around hisnumbed lips, and sent a longdrawn "Who-ee!" shrilling weirdly into thenight.
It seemed to him, after long listening, that from the right came faintreply, and he turned and rode recklessly, swearing at Chub forhis slowness. He called again, and the answer, though faint, wasunmistakable. He settled heavily into the saddle--too weak, from sheerrelief, to call again. He had not known till then just how frightened hehad been, and he was somewhat disconcerted at the discovery. In a minutethe reaction passed and he shouted a loud hello.
"Hello?" came the voice of Miss Conroy, tantalizingly calm, and assuperior as the greeting of Central. "Were you looking for me, Mr.Vaughan?"
She was close to him--so close that she had not needed to raise hervoice perceptibly. Rowdy rode up alongside, remembering uncomfortablyhis prolonged shouting.
"I sure was," he admitted. And then: "You rode off with my blanket on."He was very proud of his matter-of-fact tone.
"Oh!" Miss Conroy was almost deceived, and a bit disappointed. "I'llgive it to you now, and you can go back--if you know the way."
"No hurry," said Rowdy politely. "I'll go on and see if you can find aplace that looks good to you. You seem pretty particular."
Miss Conroy may have blushed, in the shelter of the blanket. "I supposeit did look strange to you," she confessed, but defiantly. "Bill Brownis an enemy to--Harry. He--because he lost a horse or two out of afield, one time, he--he actually accused Harry of taking them! He lied,of course, and nobody believed him; nobody could believe a thing likethat about Harry. It was perfectly absurd. But he did his best tohurt Harry's name, and I would rather freeze than ask shelter of him.Wouldn't you--in my place, I mean?"
"I always stand up for my friends," evaded Rowdy. "And if I had abrother--"
"Of course you'd be loyal," approved Miss Conroy warmly. "But I didn'twant you to come on; it isn't your quarrel. And I know the way now. Youneedn't have come any farther."
"You forgot the blanket," Rowdy reminded wickedly. "I think a lot ofthat Navajo."
"You insisted upon my taking it," she retorted, and took refuge insilence.
For a long hour they plodded blindly. Rowdy beat his hands often abouthis body to start the blood, and meditated yearnigly upon hot coffeeand the things he liked best to eat. Also, a good long pull at aflask wouldn't be had, either, he thought. And he hoped this littleschoolma'am knew where she was going--truth to tell, he doubted it.
After a while, it seemed that Miss Conroy doubted it also. She tookto leaning forward and straining her eyes to see through the gray wallbefore.
"There should be a gate here," she said dubiously, at last.
"It seems to me," Rowdy ventured mildly, "if there were a gate, it wouldhave some kind of a fence hitched to it; wouldn't it?"
Miss Conroy was in no mood for facetiousness, and refused to answer hisquestion. "I surely can't have made a mistake," she observed uneasily.
"It would be a wonder if you didn't, such a night as this," he consoled."I wouldn't bank on traveling straight myself, even if I knew thecountry--which I don't. And I've been in more blizzards than I'm yearsold."
"Rodway's place can't be far away," she said, brightening. "It may befarther to the east; shall we try that way--if you know which is east?"
"Sure, we'll try. It's all we can do. My packhorse is about all in, fromthe way he hangs back; if we don't strike something pretty soon I'llhave to turn him loose."
"Oh, don't do that," she begged. "It would be too cruel. We're sure toreach Rodway's very soon."
More plodding through drifts high and drifts low; more leaning fromsaddles to search anxiously for trace of something besides snow and windand biting cold. Then, far to the right, a yellow eye glowed brieflywhen the storm paused to take breath. Miss Conroy gave a glad little cryand turned Badger sharply.
"Did you see? It was the light from a window. We were going the wrongway. I'm sure that is Rodway's."
Rowdy thanked the Lord and followed her. They came up against a fence,found a gate, and passed through. While they hurried toward it, thelight winked welcome; as they drew near, some one stirred the fire andsent sparks and rose-hued smoke rushing up into the smother of snow.Rowdy watched them wistfully, and wondered if there would be supper, andstrong, hot coffee. He lifted Miss Conroy out of the saddle, carriedher two long strides, and deposited her upon the door-step; rappedimperatively, and when a voice replied, lifted the latch and pushed herin before him.
For a minute they stood blinking, just within the door. The changefrom numbing cold and darkness to the light of the overheated room wasstupefying.
Then Miss Conroy went over and held her little, gloved hands to theheat of the stove, but she did not take the chair which some one pushedtoward her. She stood, the blanket shrouding her face an
d her slim youngfigure, and looked about her curiously. It was not Rodway's house, afterall. She thought she knew what place it was--the shack where Rodway'shay-balers bached.
From the first, Rowdy did not like the look of things--though forhimself it did not matter; he was used to such scenes. It was thepresence of the girl which made him uncomfortable. He unbuttoned hiscoat that the warmth might reach his chilled body, and frowned.
Four men sat around a small, dirty table; evidently the arrivals hadinterrupted an exciting game of seven-up. A glance told Rowdy, evenif his nose had not, that the four round, ribbed bottles had not beennearly emptied without effect.
"Have one on the house," the man nearest him cried, and shoved a bottletoward him.
Involuntarily Rowdy reached for it. Now that he was inside, he realizedall at once how weary he was, and cold and hungry. Each abused muscleand nerve seemed to have a distinct grievance against him. His fingersclosed around the bottle before he remembered and dropped it. He lookedup, hoping Miss Conroy had not observed the action; met her wide,questioning eyes, and the blood flew guiltily to his cheeks.
"Thanks, boys--not any for me," he said, and apologized to Miss Conroywith his eyes.
The man rose and confronted him unsteadily. "Dat's a hell off a way! Youtoo proud for drink weeth us? You drink, now! By Gar, I make you drink!"
Rowdy's eyelids drooped, which was a bad sign for those who knew him."You're forgetting there's a lady present," he reminded warningly.
The man turned a brief, contemptuous glance toward the stove. "You gotthe damn' queer way to talk. I don't call no squaw no lady. You drinkqueeck, now!"
"Aw, shut up, Frenchy," the man at his elbow abjured him. "He don't haveto drink if he don't want to."
"You keep the face close," the other retorted majestically; and cursedloud and long and incoherently.
Rowdy drew back his arm, with a fist that meant trouble for somebody;but there were others before him who pinned the importunate host to thetable, where he squirmed unavailingly.
Rowdy buttoned up his coat the while he eyed the group disgustedly. "Iguess we'll drift," he remarked. "You don't look good to me, and that'sno dream."
"Aw, stay and warm up," the fourth man expostulated. "Yuh don't need t'mind Le Febre; he's drunk."
But Rowdy opened the door decisively, and Miss Conroy, her cheekslike two storm-buffeted poppies, followed him out with dignity--albeittrailing a yard of red-and-yellow Navajo blanket behind her. Rowdylifted her into the saddle, tucked her feet carefully under the blanket,and said never a word.
"Mr. Vaughan," she began hesitatingly, "this is too bad; you need nothave left. I--I wasn't afraid."
"I know you weren't," conceded Rowdy. "But it was a hard formation--fora woman. Are there any more places on this flat marked Unavailable?"
Miss Conroy replied misanthropically that if there were they would besure to find them.
They took up their weary wanderings again, while the yellow eye of thewindow winked after them. They missed Rodway's by a scant hundred yards,and didn't know it, because the side of the house next them had nolighted windows. They traveled in a wide, half circle, and thought thatthey were leaving a straight trail behind them. More than once Rowdy wasurged by his aching arm to drop the lead-rope and leave Chub to shiftby himself, but habit was strong and his heart was soft. Then he felt anodd twitching at the lead-rope, as if Chub were minded to rebel againsttheir leadership. Rowdy yanked him into remembrance of his duty, andwondered. Bill Brown's question came insistently to mind; he wonderedthe more.
Two minutes and the lead-rope was sawing against the small of his backagain. Rowdy turned Dixie's head, and spoke for the first time in anhour.
"My packhorse seems to have an idea about where he wants to go," hesaid. "I guess we might as well follow him as anybody; he ain't oftentaken with a rush of brains to the head. And we can't be any worse lostthan we are now, can we?"
Miss Conroy said no dispiritedly, and they swung about and followedChub's leadership apathetically. It took Chub just five minutes todemonstrate that he knew what he was about. When he stopped, it was withhis nose against a corral gate; not content with that, he whinnied, anda new, exultant note was in the sound. A deep-voiced dog bayed loudly,and a shrill yelp cut in and clamored for recognition.
Miss Conroy gasped. "It's Lion and Skeesicks. We're at Rodway's, Mr.Vaughan."
Rowdy, for the second time, thanked the Lord. But when he was strippingthe pack off Chub's back, ten minutes later, he was thinking many thingshe would not have cared to say aloud. It might be all right, but it surewas strange, he told himself, that Chub belonged here at Rodway's whenHarry Conroy claimed that he was an Oregon horse. Rowdy had thought hisaccount against Harry Conroy long enough, but it looked now as thoughanother item must be added to the list. He went in and ate his supperthoughtfully, and when he got into bed he did not fall asleep within twominutes, as he might be expected to do. His last conscious thought wasnot of stolen horses, however. It was: "And she's Harry Conroy's sister!Now, what do you think of that? But all the same, she's sure a nicelittle schoolma'am."
