Bred of the Desert: A Horse and a Romance
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CHAPTER XXIII
THE REUNION
Stephen awoke quite late in the morning after his arrival in Pat's hometown. Standing before a window in his room at the hotel, he saw a youngwoman cantering across the railroad tracks in the direction of the mesa.It was Helen, and, at sight of her, for a brief and awful moment hewavered in his decision. Then he remembered his suffering, and thedetermination made while convalescing, and, hastening his toilet, hehurried through breakfast and made his way to the livery-stable wherePat had spent the night. Pat nickered joyful greeting, as ifunderstanding what was to come. Bridling and saddling him, Stephenmounted and rode into the street at a canter. He turned into the avenue,crossed the railroad tracks, and mounted the long, slow rise to the mesaat a walk. He moved slowly because he wanted time to think, to pullhimself together, to the end that he might hold himself firmly to hisdecision in this last talk. And yet--and this was the conflict hesuffered--he could hardly restrain himself, hold himself back, fromurging Pat to his utmost.
He reached the first flat in the long rise. Absorbed in troubledreflections, he was barely conscious of the nods from two men he passedwhom he knew--Hodgins, kindly old soul, book in hand; Maguire, truest ofCelts, a twenty-inch slide-rule under his arm. Nodding in friendlyrecognition, both men gazed at the horse, seeming to understand, andglad to know that he was back. Mounting the second rise, he saw anotherwhom he knew. A quarter of a mile to his left, on the tiny porch of alone adobe, sat Skeet under a hat, feet elevated to the porch railing,head turned in a listening attitude, as though heeding a call, or manycalls, from the direction of a brick-and-stone structure to thesouthwest. Everywhere familiar objects, scenes, stray people, caught hiseye as he rode slowly out upon the mesa, trying to get his thoughts awayfrom the immediate future, from Helen, his successful return of thehorse, and that other thing, his determination to leave this spaciousland for ever.
Suddenly he saw her. She was standing beside her brown saddler, her handupon the bridle, gazing thoughtfully toward the mountains, now in theirmorning splendor. He rode Pat to a point perhaps twenty feet behind her,and then quietly let go of the reins and dropped to earth. For a momenthe stood, his heart a well of bitterness; then, taking Pat's rein, hestepped toward her, quietly and slowly, intent upon making her surprisecomplete, because of her great love for the horse. She continuedmotionless, her hand upon the bridle, facing the mountains, and he cameclose before she turned.
He stopped. She stood perfectly still, eyes upon him, upon the horse, aslow pallor creeping into her face. Presently, as one in a spell, shelet fall the reins, slowly, mechanically, and stepped toward him, a stepever quickening, her face drawn, in her eyes a strange, unchanging glow,until, when almost upon him, she held out both arms in trembling welcomeand uttered a pitiful outcry.
"Stephen! Pat!" she sobbed. "Why--why didn't you--" She checked herself,came close, reached one arm around Pat, the other around Stephen, andwent on. "I am--am glad you--you have come back--back to me." Her whiteface quivered. "Both of you. I--I have suffered."
And Stephen, swept away by the tide of his great love, and forgettinghis determination, forgetting everything, bent his head and kissed her.She did not shrink, and he kissed her again. Then he began to talk, totell her of her wonderful horse. Slowly at first, hesitating, then, asthe spirit of the drama gripped him, rapidly, sometimes incoherently, hetold of his adventures with the horse, and of Pat's unwavering loyaltythroughout, and of that last dread situation when both their livesdepended upon Pat's winning in a death-grapple with a wild horse. Andthen, as the gates of speech were opened, he showed her his own part,telling her that as Pat had been true to her trust, so he himself hadtried to be true to her faith and trust, and was still trying andhoping, against his convictions, that she understood, that she wouldconsider his love for her and would take him, because he loved herwholly and he needed her love to live. His tense words broke at last,and then he saw her looking up at him through tear-dimmed eyes andsmiling, and in the smile he saw the opening of a life new andwonderful.
After a little she turned to Pat. She fell to stroking him in thoughtfulsilence. Then she turned back.
"I had heard much of what you have been through," she began, slowly, hervoice soft and vibrant with deep sympathy, in her eyes that same steadyglow. "The rangers reported to headquarters, and headquarters reportedto Daddy. They told of the running fight, Stephen, and how--how you werehurt. And they told of the renegades, and their descent upon your camp,and of Pat's disappearance. And they told of the way you mounted anotherhorse, hurt and sick though you were, and rode off in pursuit. But fromthere they knew nothing more. But they had spoken of the cavalry, and Iwrote to Fort Wingate, inquiring, and they told me what they knew--thatyou had joined them and ridden with them through that dreadful fight,though they had tried to keep you out of it on account of yourcondition, and that afterward you had gone off with some cowboys--theydidn't know to what ranch. So I looked up every brand in that section,Stephen," she went on, her voice beginning to break. "And I wrote toevery place that might by any possible chance know something. But nobodyknew. And--and--there I--I was stopped. You had been swallowed up inthat desert, and I--I knew you must be ill--and I realized that I--I hadsent you into it all." She sobbed and leaned her head against him. "Icouldn't do anything, Stephen. I was helpless. All I have been able todo at any time, Stephen, was to--to sit at a window and wait--wait tohear from you--wait for your return--and hope, hope day in and day outthat--that you were safe. I--I have--have suffered, Stephen," sheconcluded, sobbing wretchedly now. "I have suffered--suffered so much!"
He drew her close in his arms, united at last in complete understanding.The brown saddler, left free, wandered away indifferently; but Patremained beside them, and presently they felt the tender touch of hisbeautiful head, as if in comprehension and blessing. Their hands wentout to him, and Pat nickered softly at the love in their caress. ThenStephen gently raised Helen's sweet, tear-stained face to his, and inher eyes he read the certainty of the great happiness of years to come,while Pat, raising his head proudly to the desert, stood above them asif in solemn protection.
THE END