CHAPTER XXVIII
"Excuse _me_," said Wade, who had anticipated his entrance by manypreliminary noises, "excuse me, my dear young friends, and,incidentally, accept my sincerest congratulations, felicitations,and--er--jubilations. Kindly listen to the following observations.Ahem! Far be it from me to horn in where I am as welcome as a wet dog.Nothing is farther from my desire than to short circuit two hearts----"
"Come right in, old man," said Casey. "What's the trouble?"
"I want my dinner," said Wade plaintively. "I Paul Revered on ashoestring. I Sheridaned without a commissariat. I brought the goodnews to Ghent on an empty tummy. Is thy servant a dog, that he shouldeat with a Chinaman? And I'd do that willingly; but, Casey, you know aswell as I do that the only thing fit to drink Clyde's health in is inthis room, and I warn you that if there is much more delay in doing sonothing which may occur hereafter will be either lucky or legal. Whileit is possibly true that a dinner of herbs where love is has aporterhouse, rare, and hashed brown spuds backed clean off the board, Isubmit, not being in love myself----"
"What's that?" cried Kitty Wade from the door.
"Why, it's a shame!" said Clyde. "He must be starving. It's all Casey'sfault, too."
"Wouldn't he break away?" asked Wade. "I remember----?"
"Harrison!" cried Kitty, warningly.
"Well, then, do I eat?" he demanded.
"Yes. Anything to keep you quiet. I'll get your dinner myself."
Half an hour later Wade pushed back his chair with a sigh ofsatisfaction, lit a cigar, and joined the others.
"I feel better," he announced. "A child could play with me incomparative safety. Now let me tell you what else I discovered. In thefirst place, Cross is dead. I was talking to Shiller. He says that Tomwasn't to blame--corroborates his story, in fact, in every materialparticular. So Tom's all right on that score. My advice to him would beto come in and have his trial over."
"That isn't what's bothering him so much. It's these friends ofCross's. I don't blame him. Some sheriffs are mighty weak-kneed aboutsuch things."
"Well, I'm told that officers will be after him. Now as to yourbrother, Miss McCrae: Glass and Pugh are starting out to find him assoon as they get an outfit. Likely they've got started now."
"But they don't know where he is. That Glass--I should think he'd getlost if he left a trail."
"Pugh is different. They may get another man or two."
"I hope they don't find him," said Sheila gravely.
"So do I," Wade concurred. "I don't suppose a prosecution would bepushed now; but he resisted an officer, and anyway I wouldn't like tosee him under arrest."
"You don't understand. Sandy wouldn't submit quietly."
"You think he'd try to bluff them again?"
"He isn't a bluff," said Casey. "The kid is serious-minded. That's thetrouble. However, I've sent Tom word about Dade. Sandy may be with him;and Tom is cool. When Simon comes in we'll know more, and send him outagain if he knows where the boy is."
Sheila declared that she must be going home. She refused Casey's offerto drive her over. She wanted to take the edge off Beaver Boy. Hisactions rankled in her mind. He needed a lesson, and she was going togive him one. And she refused absolutely to allow Casey to ride withher.
He had her horse saddled, and was giving a final pull at the latigoswhen she came out in her riding clothes.
"Cinch him up tight," she commanded. "Take a good pull at it; he'sgetting too foxy."
Beaver Boy grunted as Casey put his strength on the strap and the broadcinch bit into his glossy skin.
"And that's loose a-plenty," said his mistress. "He blows himself uplike a turkey gobbler. I need a block and tackle to cinch him right."She shaded her eyes with her hand. "Somebody coming. I'll wait and seewho it is."
Much to their surprise, it was none other than Farwell. He rodebriskly, head up, shoulders back, with the air of a man whose mind ismade up. But he refused to get off his horse, asking Sheila'spermission to ride with her.
"I wanted to tell you," he said, "that you'll have water for the summeranyway. I've just had a wire from headquarters to shut down, and toturn the normal flow of the river back into its old channel." He smiledgrimly. "They didn't know that the elements had attended to that.Thought you'd like to know. Might save you worry. Don't know thecompany's reason, and it's none of my business. I'm paying off thewhole outfit to-night, including the men we were speaking of. To-morrowI'll pull out myself. Glad to do it."
"Sorry to have you go," said Casey.
"You say it all right, but I know better," said Farwell bluntly. "Idon't want to keep Miss McCrae waiting. Will you shake hands?"
Casey put out his hand. It was caught, thumb crotch to thumb crotch, ina grip of steel. He laughed as he threw every ounce of strength intohis own fingers.
"Good man," said Farwell. "I like a man with a handgrip, and you've gotit. Any time you're ready, Miss McCrae?"
Sheila went up as lightly as a boy. Beaver Boy was off as she touchedthe saddle. Farwell followed. They melted into the distance, gallopingside by side, the dust, in spite of the night's rain, puffing up fromthe flying hoofs.
At the end of a mile Beaver Boy's exuberance had not subsided. Hethrashed out with his heels, and gave a tentative pitch. Farwell, whohad been riding slightly behind, ranged up alongside.
"I should think you'd get a quiet horse," he said.
"I'll make this one quiet!" snapped Sheila, for she was still sore, andthe hard pace had told on her temper through her bruises. "He'sactually beginning to think he can do as he likes with _me_." BeaverBoy shied to show his independence, and she slashed him mercilesslywith the quirt, setting her teeth as he plunged. "You would, would you,you brute? I'll show you!"
Farwell, riding in, grabbed for the headstall.
"Get away!" she flamed. "I'll fight this out with him now."
The question of supremacy took five minutes to settle. At the end ofthat time Beaver Boy relapsed ignominiously into servitude, smartingfrom the quirt and dripping sweat. Sheila put all her strength into afinal cut. The big bay took it meekly with what was almost a sigh and atrembling quiver.
Farwell had watched the struggle with anxiety. "You won't have any moretrouble with him for a while. He's afraid of you now."
"He'd better be. He's been obstinate for months, getting worse all thetime. He had some notion in his head that he was merely _allowing_ meto ride him. He did what he liked for a while last night when I wasshaken up, and he had to have his lesson. No use letting any one elsegive it to him. He had to be shown that _I_ was able to do it."
"That's so," said Farwell, "that's sense. The idea of you going out inthe storm last night on that brute. No other girl would have done it.It was fine, but it was foolish."
"Nonsense! I'm not afraid of rain or a horse. Could I do anything else?It was up to me."
"Maybe. Well, you heard what I told Dunne about the water. That oughtto be satisfactory to all you people."
"Naturally I'm glad."
"I'm going away," he continued. "Also, I'm chucking up my job. I'msorry I ever took it. It was sheer waste of time. I'm going to work formyself now. I hoped I would catch you at Dunne's place. I wanted to saygood-bye."
"I am sorry you are going."
"That's what Dunne said--and he didn't mean it. Do you?"
"I usually mean what I say."
"Well, I didn't know. I wouldn't blame you if you were glad. I behavedlike a--well, like a blackguard once."
"We needn't talk about that," said Sheila quietly. "That's over; Idon't think of it."
"But I do. I'm rough, but I'm not that kind--usually. You let me downeasy. If I could undo it I would; but I can't."
"No, it can't be undone. Why talk about it?"
"Because I keep thinking about it. I've kept away, as you wanted meto--and because I was ashamed of myself. Honestly, I've tried to do thebest I could for your people--for your father. I tried my best to be afriend. And the end of it was that I started gos
sip, and you told me tokeep away. That was pretty hard lines. It made me angry. And then I wasjealous of Dunne."
"He is going to marry Miss Burnaby."
"Lucky devil!" growled Farwell dejectedly. "Things run smooth for_him_. I'll bet he doesn't think half as much of her as I do of you."
Sheila smiled for the first time. "You wouldn't tell her that."
"I'd tell it to anybody. It's a fact. Why, look here: I'm a practicalman; I've no more imagination than a stump. And yet I've lain awakenights pretending to myself that you had let me kiss you willingly.How's that?"
Sheila laughed softly. "That's certainly going some, Mr. Farwell!"
"Well, it's what I do, anyway. It's about all the consolation I'vegot."
"Is it? Couldn't you get something better than that?"
"I could if you'd give me half a chance," he declared. "You turned medown hard and cold. There's a fine show for consolation, isn't there?"
"Perhaps some other girl----?" she suggested demurely.
"No!" Farwell rapped out bluntly. "I don't want any other girl. I don'tlike other girls. They make me tired. I'd rather work than fuss withthem. It's easier. If I can't have you I don't want anybody."
Sheila laughed again. The colour was high in her cheeks, and a strangelight was shining in her clear eyes. She shot a glance at him, halfamused, half serious.
"And if you had me you'd be tired of me in no time. I'm just plaingirl."
"Plain girl nothing! You're the prettiest----"
"I'm not; I'm not even average."
"And the best and the most sensible and the pluckiest one I ever saw,"he pursued, unheeding. "Don't tell me; I know. I've seen whole rafts ofwomen. Dolls! Flirts! Gigglers! Fainters! Talking slush and thinkingslop! Soft, too, like dough. Eating filthy coloured and flavouredglucose by the pound. Yah! Not a sane idea, or a sound digestion, or ahealthy body in the bunch. And as for dress, the average woman piles alot of truck on her like a _klootch_ at a potlatch, and cinchesherself up in a----"
"Hush!" said Sheila.
"Huh!" said Farwell. "Why shouldn't I call things by their names? Inever could see----"
"You aren't supposed to see. That's plenty. I won't be lectured on thefollies of my sex."
"You're different from the others," said Farwell. "That's just it.You've got ideas apart from dress and gossip, the same as a man has.You're in good hard condition physically. You don't giggle, and titter,and make eyes, and expect a man to talk like a da--er--ah--that is, youdon't expect a lot of silly compliments. I've never seen anybody likeyou. Talk of another girl! Bah! I couldn't stand one in the same house.It's you or no one."
"I don't think I'd wear well, Mr. Farwell. You'd get tired of me."
"No, I wouldn't; no, I wouldn't. I know what I'm talking about. I tellyou, I love you, Sheila. Do you think it's easy to say good-bye andleave you? It's the hardest job I ever had. It's--it's--oh, it's hell,that's what it is. I used to love work just for the work's sake. Butnow, to think of grubbing away year after year, to get money that Ican't use, that I don't want--that can't get me what I want! Oh, Lord!the hopeless years ahead! What's the good of them? What's the use? Iwish I'd never seen this place--or you."
His deep voice rose, and fell, and rumbled uncertainly, shaken byfeeling. He slouched dejectedly in his saddle, looking straight aheadas if his eyes beheld the emptiness of the years to come.
"Then why do you say good-bye?" said Sheila.
Farwell started, half turning in the saddle. "Why? Because it's best.What's the use of hanging around? I have to take my medicine, don't I?I can take it easier away from here."
"I'm not so sure," she said hesitatingly, "that there will be anymedicine to take."
Farwell's eyes opened wide as he stared at her.
"What do you mean by that? Don't fool with me, Sheila, for Heaven'ssake. It's too serious a matter."
"Yes, it's serious," she agreed. She faced him frankly, the rich bloodmounting beneath the tan of her cheeks. "What's the use of beatingaround the bush? When you kissed me I hated you. I struck you. But whenSandy came--and afterward--you seemed a good deal of a man. And so--Idon't know--but it need not be good-bye for good."
Desert Conquest; or, Precious Waters Page 28
