It was such a lame answer as to leave Letty convinced that she had heard anything but the truth. But Reb was not staying for further questioning. He had hailed one of his men, and without waiting to excuse himself, had hurried away.
Letty returned to the porch to ponder the question that was troubling her. Instinctively, she sensed that Jim had put their noses out of joint, and she was determined to get to the bottom of it. But her surmises got her no where. She ended by deciding to put a question or two to her bodyguard in the hope that he might be able to throw some light on the matter.
In answer to her summons Johnny sat down gingerly on the edge of the porch and gave her a shy grin. In short order she had his name and the fact that, prior to signing on with the Bar S at Furnace Creek, he had worked for her father at Quinn River. Letty felt encouraged.
“Then you are acquainted with Jim Montana,” she ventured almost absent-mindedly.
Johnny shied away as though he had stepped on a rattler.
“You—couldn’t hardly call us strangers—after last night,” he muttered sheepishly.
“Oh, last night, eh?” Letty echoed, her tone far less casual than she wanted it to be. “You must have been on the North Fork.”
“Yeah, I was one of the reception committee,” he admitted without enthusiasm. Letty took her cue from it.
“Evidently you were as glad to see him as the others.”
Johnny’s protruding Adam’s apple slid up and down his throat as he gulped back his surprise.
“I—I didn’t know anybody was makin’ a holiday over it,” he stammered. He was about to express a further opinion when a belated sense of caution made him pause, and he fastened his faded blue eyes on Letty. “Maybe your just givin’ me a ride, ma’am,” he said.
Letty quickly disabused his mind on that point. Within ten minutes she had a complete and graphic story of what happened. Her pride in Jim soared. It was easy to understand Reb Russell’s perturbance and her father’s irascibility now.
“I could have picked him off,” Johnny concluded, “but as I told Reb, if a gent’s got guts enough to force a thing like that down my throat I ain’t agoin’ to wash him out just to ease my injured feelin’s.”
Letty rewarded him with a smile.
“You’ll do to take along, Johnny,” she said, her eyes misting. She could appreciate the cool nerve and the danger Jim had run. Somehow it was no more than she had expected of him, and it warmed something in her. But having succeeded, he would go on to other undertakings perhaps even more hazardous.
She told herself she could not go back to Willow Vista—that she would not. And Johnny . . . she had him to thank for more than she dared put into words. There was nothing about him to suggest that he would burn chivalrous under pressure. But he had, and Letty could only accuse herself for having scoffed at him.
“It’s just the old story again,” she thought, “of not being able to tell what is in a package until you’ve unwrapped it.”
She felt she had to be alone for a while. As she got up to enter the house she paused to say to Johnny:
“It takes a big man to be generous in a situation like that. I won’t forget it.”
Her praise bewildered Johnny. But he did not try to understand it.
“Reckon Reb doesn’t aim to forget it either,” he sighed lugubriously.
“Why, what has he done?” she asked.
Johnny found himself in a very embarrassing spot. He dug a boot heel into the ground.
“Not meanin’ any offense to you, ma’am,” he got out awkwardly, “but you know what he’s got me doin’.”
“Watching me, you mean,” Letty nodded. “You—find it so unpleasant?”
“No, I don’t mind it that way.” Johnny found it easier to gaze at the distant blue of the Malheurs than meet her eyes. “As work goes it’s easy enough. But——”
“But what, Johnny?” Despite herself, Letty was enjoying his discomfiture.
“Well, the fact is,” he blurted out desperately, “I ain’t never been called on to play nurse-maid before——”
“And the boys are rubbing it in,” she finished for him, her eyes snapping with indignation. She could imagine what they were saying and it infuriated her, but she blamed her father, not the men. He had made her ridiculous.
“I suspect the harm has been done, Johnny,” she told him, “but if it will make you feel any better I can guarantee you that your nurse-maiding is just about over. It will be as soon as Father comes to the house. I’m capable of looking out for myself.”
“Gee, I wish you wouldn’t say nothin’,” Johnny pleaded. “I can stand it until tomorrow. You’ll be going——”
“But I’m not going!” she corrected him. “I’m staying right here! The Bar S didn’t use to be afraid of its shadow. But times have changed. We’re fighting a man now who doesn’t give a tinker’s damn about the pomp and glory of Stall and Matlack, and everybody seems to be getting panicky . . . . well, you give my regards to Mr. Russell,” she finished with killing sarcasm, “and tell him to be sure to have the men look under the bunks before they go to sleep. Maybe they’ll be able to get a good night’s rest.”
Head up, she whirled angrily and marched into the house, slamming the door after her. It was a moment or two before Johnny Lefleur could find his tongue. He felt a little groggy.
“Jumpin’ Jee-ru-sa-lem!” he burst out. “I’ll tell him, ma’am—I’ll sure tell him that!”
CHAPTER XIII HER FATHER’S DAUGHTER
IN THE course of an hour, Letty found herself with a fine case of the jitters on hand, but she was still as far as ever from discovering anything that held promise of making her father change his mind about her staying. She told herself it was a situation calling for desperate measures, and she was resolved to stop at nothing to win her point. Usually she could wheedle him into anything she wanted. She knew she couldn’t hope for success that way this time.
Without doubt she would be in some danger in remaining there; but not in any such measure as he insisted. It weighed lightly enough on her.
“It isn’t as though I wanted to stay on for the thrill of it,” she protested to herself. “He’ll be more careful if I’m here—and my presence may restrain things a little.”
There was a third and more potent reason why she was so determined to remain at Squaw Valley. If she refused to consider it now it was only because it frightened her a little to admit how much Jim Montana had come to mean to her.
Obviously it would do no good to feign sickness; her father would have her packed out to a hospital at once. She considered other subterfuges, but they promised just as little.
“But I will stay,” she insisted stubbornly, “and without being made ridiculous.”
It was almost supper time when, from her window, she saw her father returning to the house. He had been up since daylight, but his step was brisk as he crossed the yard. There was something about the set of his shoulders and head that conveyed to her a sense of his power and indomitable will.
Letty smiled fondly to herself, for she was not only proud of him but in the last few minutes she had made up her mind as to what she was to do.
It was only a few minutes before Charlie Chin rang the get-ready-for-supper bell. On all Bar S ranches it carried a peremptory summons. Five minutes later a second bell rang: supper was on the table. The food was plain, but usually well cooked, and there was always enough for all. But there was no second table or provision made for late-comers. If you would eat, be there when the bell rang. If you had been out in the hills, rounding up strays, and chanced to return late, or were moving from one ranch to another and got in after things had been cleared away, you went to bed hungry. There was a time and a place for eating, as there was for everything else in the regimented world of Henry Stall, and his cooks carried out his orders with zeal.
Old Slick-ear and his foremen always ate with the men. Betty’s presence never altered that; a place was made for her and she took pot luck
with the men.
Having anticipated the bell, she was almost ready to go downstairs when the first one rang. She felt refreshed, having managed a bath and changed from riding breeches to a cool frock.
Her eyes were dancing as she regarded herself in her mirror. She was thinking of the men. They could have their laugh at her expense behind her back. Face to face they were helpless. It needed only a smile or the simplest attention to confound them utterly. So if she lingered over her toilette tonight it was with malice aforethought.
Her father called to her as she was examining her mouth critically.
“I’ll be down right away,” she called back. But she did not go at once because she had caught sight of two men riding into the yard. They were gray with dust, and she knew they had come a long way. One of them she recognized as Tiny Melody, a Bar S man of long standing. He had a leather pouch hung over his saddle bow. From it she gathered that he was bringing in the mail from Vale.
It was the other man, rather than Tiny, who interested her. She found him strangely familiar, and before he had dismounted recognized in him Seth MacMasters from San Francisco, one of her father’s attorneys. That he had journeyed so far from home and made the long ride in from Vale hinted that his business there must be of the most urgent nature.
Not only was her curiosity instantly aroused but she was conscious of a feeling of alarm. Surmising that she would get no information from her father concerning the secret mission which had brought MacMasters there, she hurried downstairs, hoping to overhear enough to give her some hint of what had brought him.
She heard her father’s exclamation of surprise as MacMasters entered. Certainly he had not expected him.
“I had expected a letter, or even a wire,” he said, “but to see you in person, Mr. MacMasters——”
“It’s been an experience, coming here,” the lawyer laughed heartily. “I never thought I’d be able to get out of that saddle unless you got me a derrick; but when your man, Melody, heard the bell and began to put on the pressure, I found I was hungrier than I was sore. I hope I’m here in time.”
“Just in time. . . . Nothing wrong?”
“Quite the contrary,” MacMasters beamed. “I’ll need you in Vale tomorrow afternoon. Judge Robbins will wait for us. I have some things to discuss that I didn’t want to put on paper.”
Old Slick-ear thought he understood him now.
“Then you’ve heard from——”
“Yes, and very promising news,” his lawyer broke in. He had caught a glimpse of Letty Stall on the stairs. He turned to her with outstretched hand. “This is a surprise all around, I think,” he smiled. “I hardly expected to find you here, Letty.”
“I only arrived today,” she told him, “and I’m leaving tomorrow. Father insists on it, and I dare say he’s right.” She had overheard every word they had spoken, but she was as much at sea as ever. Although she was addressing herself to MacMasters she managed a furtive glance at her father. He was having a hard time hiding his surprise over her apparent change of mind.
“Undoubtedly he is right,” MacMasters said. He had caught Letty’s glance at her father, and knowing them so well, was not fooled by either. “It can’t be particularly pleasant for you here right now. The girls have gone down to Carmel for the summer. Why not join them for a few weeks?” His daughters were Letty’s age, and they were fond of one another.
“Sounds promising,” she smiled innocently. “I had thought of going back to Willow Vista, but you are making me change my mind. If Father thought it safe for me to go out to the railroad I believe I’d go.”
Old Slick-ear jumped at the chance she was offering him. He wanted nothing better than to have her back in California.
“I wouldn’t want you to go out by the way of Wild Horse,” he said, “but we’ll be going to Vale early in the morning. You could go with us, Letty.”
She hesitated, as though rolling the matter over in her mind. It was quite convincing.
“Well—I think I’ll go with you,” she said finally. “You can have Mr. Tracey send my trunk down from Willow Vista.”
“Don’t worry about that,” her father exclaimed brusquely. “That will be taken care of.” He turned to MacMasters. “If you want to knock a little of the dust off you and wash up we’d better get at it. You can step into my room.”
Knowing the routine of the Bar S ranches as well as anyone, he spent only a minute or two in refreshing himself. When he rejoined them he offered Letty his arm and they went into the dining-room.
Instantly all eyes fell. Mr. Stall sat down at the head of the table, with his foreman at his left and Letty to his right. MacMasters found a place next to Reb. The attorney remembered Reb and shook hands with him. The men had suddenly become tongue-tied. Letty’s presence alone would have embarrassed them to silence. She and MacMasters together—they had learned about him from Tiny—were just too much for them.
It was strange what a serious business they could make of eating. The food was on platters. Some of it had to pass a long way. A man would look up and say, “Pass the bread.” Instantly his eyes would return to his plate. The bread would start moving, and eventually he would help himself to it. No one bothered to say please. Possibly because when they said, “Pass the bread,” or “Pass the beans,” it was a command, not a request. They were stark sounds, rising above the clatter of knives and forks.
Mr. Stall and MacMasters had very little to say themselves, and that little concerned such casual things as the market and the political situation. Letty lost interest in them and applied herself to her promised revenge. It was not difficult for her to surmise which of the men had started the laugh at Johnny Lefleur’s expense. Ike Sweet, who had been with Johnny on the North Fork, and Kin Lamb were undoubtedly the guilty ones. They were seated within striking distance. Letty singled out old Ike.
He seemed to feel her eyes on him. She could see his neck redden.
“Please pass the hors d’oeuvres,” she asked him.
Ike stiffened, but he did not look up. He knew she was speaking to him. The men on either side of him only ate more rapidly. Letty repeated her request and continued to stare at Ike until he had to look up, a look of dumb wonder on his face.
“I’m sorry,” she smiled sweetly. “The pickles, please——”
In his anxiety to get them to her swiftly, Ike almost upset them. Mr. Stall and MacMasters missed this by-play. The others were keenly aware of it, for all that they ate on with stony faces. Indeed, this was something that was destined to follow Ike for some years to come.
Kin Lamb, across the table from Ike, was enjoying it to the full behind his sullen mask until Letty suddenly turned on him and began to bombard him with requests to pass one thing after another to her until her plate was piled high with more food than she could have consumed in several days. With any effort on her part she could have reached out and taken the dishes he offered, and he would not have had to extend himself. But that was not part of her plan. She made him half arise, and then thanked him so fulsomely that after a few minutes he gulped down a cup of coffee and bolted from the room. Some one tittered; It was Johnny Lefleur. Letty gave him a knowing wink. It so emboldened him that he looked Ike in the eye and said, “Pass them ore-dough pickles.”
Ike could have killed him with pleasure. Letty suspected as much and enjoyed it accordingly.
Supper was no sooner over than Reb began dispatching his men to the front, spreading them out along the North Fork and west of the Big Powder, north of Quantrell’s line.
While her father was conferring with Reb and acquainting him with the fact that he was leaving for Vale in the morning, to be gone at least forty-eight hours, Letty sat on the porch with MacMasters.
It was a witching hour, the whippoorwills calling plaintively as they sailed over the sage. The Malheurs and the Juniper Hills were deep purple blurs. The valley itself was majestically beautiful in the mauve and lavender afterglow.
With all the cunning she could co
mmand, Letty tried valiantly to draw from the lawyer the reason for his presence. She failed dismally, MacMasters turning her queries with ease born of long professional experience.
When old Slick-ear came in, he bundled her off to her room with scant ceremony. He was anxious to hear what MacMasters had to say.
They talked for a long time. It was after nine when Letty heard them saying good-night. Her light was out, but she was not asleep. From her window she had a distant view of the North Fork. The moon had risen and the night was so bright that she could see an incredible distance.
She found her thoughts turning to Jim Montana. He was sound asleep in Wild Horse at the moment. She didn’t know that; and not knowing, she thought only of the danger he might be in. MacMasters’ sudden appearance was linked in her mind with the mysterious remark her father had made that day anent the courts still having something to say about this struggle. Whatever the move was, it was evidently coming to a head even sooner than her father had figured. That it could portend anything but ill for the other side seemed a foregone conclusion.
It distressed her to have to admit that her sympathies were not with her father. It savoured of dis-loyalty, and she reproached herself bitterly. But that did not alter the case.
“I can’t help feeling they are the underdog in this,” she thought. “The Bar S is rich and powerful; they’re poor and helpless, in a way. Doesn’t seem to be the sporting thing to crush them.”
She and Montana viewed the struggle in quite the same light, yet it did not occur to her that his championing of their cause had influenced her at all.
“There are rights involved here which the law may not recognize,” she mused on; “but they are rights, just the same. Jim recognized that. I wish I could do something to help him.”
The night was very still. Several times she listened carefully, but the vagrant breeze brought no sound of strife to her ears. It was nearing midnight before she closed her eyes and slept, a prayer for Jim’s safety on her lips.
Her father rapped on her door at half past five. At six o’clock they were having breakfast. Reb came in. The night had passed without a shot being fired.
Guardians of the Sage Page 11
