CHAPTER XVII--THE WRONG ANKLE
Bud Hemmingway, the tall, red-faced young puncher who had assistedQuinton Taylor in the sprained-ankle deception, saw the dawn breakingthrough one of the windows of the bunkhouse when he suddenly opened hiseyes after dreaming of steaming flapjacks soaked in the sirup he likedbest. He stretched out on his back in the wall-bunk and licked his lips.
"Lordy, I'm hungry!"
But he decided to rest for a few minutes while he considered thecook--away with the outfit to a distant corner of the range.
He reflected bitterly that the cook was away most of the time, and thata man fared considerably better with the outfit than he did by stayingat the home ranch. For one thing, when a man was with the outfit he got"grub," without having to rustle it himself--that was why it was betterto be with the outfit.
"A man don't git nothin' to eat at all, scarcely--when he's got torustle his own grub," mourned Bud. "He's got the appetite, all right,but he don't know how to rassle the ingredients which goes into goodgrub. Take them flapjacks, now." (He licked his lips again.) "They'rescrumptuous. But that damned hyena which slings grub for the outfitwon't tell a man how he makes 'em, which greediness is goin' to git himinto a heap of trouble some day--when I git so hungry that I feel a heapreckless!"
Bud watched the dawn broaden. He knew he ought to get up, for this wasthe day on which Marion Harlan was to visit the Arrow--and Taylor hadwarned him to be on hand early to bandage the ankle again--Taylor havingdecided that not enough time had elapsed to effect a cure.
But Bud did not get up until a glowing shaft entering the window warnedhim that the sun was soon to appear above the horizon. Then he boundedout of the bunk and lurched heavily to an east window.
What he saw when he looked out made him gasp for breath and hang hard tothe window-sill, while his eyes bulged and widened with astonishment.For upon the porch of the ranchhouse--seated in the identical chairs inwhich they had sat during their previous visit, were Marion Harlan andthe negro woman!
Bud stepped back from the window and rubbed his eyes. Then he went tothe window again and looked with all his vision. And then a grin coveredhis face.
For the two women seemed to be asleep. Bud would have sworn they wereasleep! For the negress was hunched up in her chair--a big, almostshapeless black mass--with her chin hidden in the swell of her amplebosom; while the girl was leaning back, her figure slack with the utterrelaxation that accompanies deep sleep, her eyes closed and her hat alittle awry. Bud was certain _she_ was asleep, for no girl in her wakingmoments would permit her hat to rest upon her head in that negligentmanner.
Bad scratched his head many times while hurriedly getting into hisclothing.
"I'm bettin' _they_ didn't wait for flapjacks _this_ morning!" heconfided to himself, mentally. "Must like it here a heap," he reflected."Well, there's nothin' like gittin' an early start when you're goin'anywhere!" he grinned.
Stealthily he opened the door of the bunkhouse, watching furtively as hestepped out, lest he be seen; and then when he noted that the women didnot move, he darted across the yard, vaulted the corral fence, ranaround the corner of the ranchhouse, carefully opened a rear door, andpresently stood beside a bed gently shaking its tousled-haired occupant.
"Git up, you sufferin' fool!" he whispered hoarsely; "they're here!"
Taylor's eyes snapped open and were fixed on Bud with a resentful glare,which instantly changed to reserved amusement when he saw Bud's bulgingeyes and general evidence of suppressed excitement.
He yawned sleepily, stretching his arms wide.
"The outfit, eh? Well, tell Bothwell I'll see him----"
"Bothwell, hell!" sneered Bud. "It ain't the outfit! It ain't no damnedrange boss! It's _her_, I tell you! An' if you're figgerin' on gittin'that ankle bandaged before-- That starts you to runnin', eh?" he jeered.
For Taylor was out of bed with one leap. In another he had Bud by theshoulders and had crowded him back against the wall.
"Bud," he said, "I've a notion to manhandle you! Didn't I tell you tohave me up early?"
"Git your fingers out of my windpipe," objected Bud. "Early! Sufferin'shorthorns! Did you want me to git you up last night? It's only four,now--an' they've been here for hours, I reckon--mebbe all night. How's aman to know anything about a woman?"
Taylor was getting into his clothes. Bud watched him, marveling at hisdeft movements. "You're sure a wolf at hustlin' when _she's_ around!" heoffered.
But he got no reply. Taylor was dressed in a miraculously short time,and then he sat down on the edge of the bed and stuck a foot out towardBud.
"Shut up, and get the bandage on!" he directed.
Bud dove for a dresser and pulled out a drawer, returning instantly witha roll of white cloth, which he unfolded as he knelt beside the bed. Foran instant after kneeling he scratched his head, looking at Taylor'sfeet in perplexity, and then he looked up at Taylor, his facethoughtfully furrowed.
"Which ankle was it I bandaged before?" he demanded; "I've forgot!"
Taylor groaned. He, too, had forgotten. Since he had talked with NeilNorton about the ankle directly after the fight with Carrington in frontof the courthouse he had tried in vain to remember which ankle he hadbandaged for Miss Harlan's benefit. Driven to the necessity of making aquick decision, his brain became a mere muddle of desperate conjecture.Out of the muddle sprang a disgust for Bud for _his_ poor memory.
"You've forgot!" he blurted at Bud. "Why, damn it, you ought to knowwhich one it was--you bandaged it!"
"Well," grinned Bud gleefully, "it was _your_ ankle, wasn't it? Strikesme that if I busted one of _my_ ankles I wouldn't forget which one itwas! Leastways, if I'd busted it just to hang around a girl!"
Taylor sneered scornfully. "You wouldn't bust an ankle for a girl--youain't got backbone enough. Hell!" he exploded; "do something! Take achance and bandage one of them--I don't care a damn which one! If shenoticed the other time, I'll tell her that one was cured and I bustedthe other one!"
"She'd know you was lyin'," grinned Bud. He stood erect, his eyes alightwith an inspiration. "Wrap up both of 'em!" he suggested. "If she goesto gittin' curious--which she will, bein' a woman--tell her you bustedboth of 'em!"
"It won't do," objected Taylor; "I couldn't lie that heavy an' keep astraight face."
Bud began to wrap the left ankle. As he worked, the doubt in his eyesbegan to fade and was succeeded by conviction. When he finished, hestood up and grinned at Taylor.
"That's the one," he said; "the left. I mind, now, that we talked aboutit. You go right out to her, limpin', the same as you done before, an'she'll not say a word about it. You'll see."
Taylor grunted disbelievingly, and hobbled to the front door. He lookedback at Bud, who was snickering, made a malicious grimace at him, andsoftly opened the door.
Miss Harlan had been asleep, but she was not asleep when Taylor openedthe door. Indeed, she was never more wide awake in her life. At thesound of the door opening she turned her head and sat stiffly erect, toface Taylor.
Taylor looked apologetically at his ankle, his cheeks tinged with aflush of embarrassment.
"This ankle, ma'am--it ain't quite well yet. You'll excuse me not beinggone. But Bud--that's my friend--says it won't be quite right for a fewdays yet. But I won't be in your way--and I hope you enjoy yourself."
Miss Harlan was enjoying herself. She was enjoying herself despite theshadow of the tragedy that had almost descended upon her. And mirth,routing the bitter, resentful emotions that had dwelt in her heartduring the night, twitched mightily at her lips and threatened to curvethem into a smile.
For during her last visit to the Arrow she had noted particularly thatit had been Taylor's _right_ ankle which had been bandaged, and now heappeared before her with the _left_ swathed in white cloth!
But even had she not known, Taylor's face must have told her of thedeception. For there was guilt in his eyes, and doubt, and a sort ofbreathless speculation, and--she was certain--an intense curiosity todi
scover whether or not she was aware of the trick.
But she looked straight at him, betraying nothing of the emotions thathad seized her.
"Does it pain you _very_ much?" she inquired.
Had not Taylor been so eager to make his case strong, he might havenoted the exceedingly light sarcasm of her voice.
"It hurts a heap, ma'am," he declared. "Why, last night----"
"I shouldn't think it would be necessary to lie about an ankle," shesaid, coldly.
Taylor's face went crimson, and in his astonishment he stepped heavilyupon the traitor foot and stood, convicted, before her, looking verymuch like a reproved schoolboy.
She rose from her chair, and now she turned from Taylor and stoodlooking out over the big level, while behind her Taylor shifted hisfeet, scowled and felt decidedly uncomfortable.
From where Taylor watched her she looked very rigid and indignant--withher head proudly erect and her shoulders squared; and he could almost_feel_ that her eyes were flashing with resentment.
Yet had he been able to see her face, he would have seen her lipstwitching and her eyes dancing with a light that might have puzzled him.For she had already forgiven him.
"There's lies--_and_ lies," he offered palliatively, breaking a painfulsilence.
There was no answer, and Taylor, desperately in earnest in his desirefor forgiveness, and looking decidedly funny to Bud Hemmingway, who waswatching from the interior of the room beyond the open door, walkedacross the porch with no suspicion of a limp, and halted near the girl.
"Shucks, Miss Harlan," he said. "I'm sure caught; and I'm admitting itwas a sort of mean trick to pull off on you. But if you wanted to benear a girl you'd taken a shine to--that you liked a whole lot, I mean,Miss Harlan--and you couldn't think of any _good_ excuse to be aroundher? You couldn't blame a man for that--could you? Besides," he added,when peering at the side of her face, he saw the twitching lips, readyto break into a smile, "I'll make it up to you!"
"How?" It was a strained voice that answered him.
"By manhandling Bud Hemmingway for wrapping up the wrong ankle, ma'am!"he declared.
Both heard a cackle of mirth from the room behind them. And both turned,to see Bud Hemmingway retreating through a door into the kitchen.
It might have been Bud's action that brought the smile to Miss Harlan'sface, or it might have been that she had forgiven Taylor. But at anyrate Taylor read the smile correctly, and he succeeded in lookingproperly repentant when he felt Miss Harlan's gaze upon him.
"I won't play any more tricks--on you," he declared. "You ain't holdingit against me?"
"If you will promise not to harm Bud," she said.
"That goes," he agreed, and went into the house to get his discardedboot.
When he reappeared, Miss Harlan was again seated in the chair. Swiftlyher thoughts had reverted to the incident of the night before, and herface was wan and pale, and her lips pressed tightly together in a braveeffort to repress the emotions that rioted within her. In spite of hercourage, and of her determination not to let Taylor know of what hadhappened to her, her eyes were moist and her lips quivering.
He stepped close to her and peered sharply at her, standing erectinstantly, his face grave.
"Shucks!" he said, accusingly; "I wouldn't be called hospitable--now,would I? Standing here, talking a lot of nonsense, and you--you musthave started _early_ to get here by this time!" Again he flashed a keenglance at her, and his voice leaped.
"Something has happened, Miss Harlan! What is it?"
She got up again and faced him, smiling, her eyes shining mistilythrough the moisture in them. She was almost on the verge of tears, andher voice was tremulous when she answered:
"Mr. Taylor, I--I have come to ask if you--still--if your offer aboutthe Arrow is still open--if--I could stay here--myself and Martha; if Icould accept the offer you made about giving me father's share of theArrow. For--for--I can't go back East--to Westwood, and I won't stay inthe Huggins house a minute longer!"
"Sure!" he said, with a grim smile, aware of her profound emotion;aware, too, that something had gone terribly wrong with her--to make heraccept what she had once considered charity--an offer made out of hisregard for her father.
"But, look here," he added. "What's wrong? There's something----"
"Plenty, Mr. Squint."
This was Martha. She had been awake for some little time, sitting backwith her eyes closed, listening. She was now sitting erect, her eyesshining with eagerness to tell all she knew of the night's happenings.
"Plenty, Mr. Squint," she repeated, paying no attention to Miss Harlan'ssharp, "Martha!" "That big rapscallion, Carrington, has been makin'things mighty mis'able for Missy Harlan. He come to the house las' nightan' bust the door down, tryin' to git at missy, an' she's run away fromhim like a whitehead. Then, when he finds he can't diskiver where I hidemissy he run the hosses off an' we have to walk heah. That's all, Mr.Squint, 'ceptin' that me an' missy doan stay in that house no more--ifwe have to walk East--all the way!"
Miss Harlan saw a flash light Taylor's eyes; saw the flash recede, to bereplaced by a chilling glow. And his lips grew straight and stiff--twohard lines pressed firmly together. She saw his chest swell and notedthe tenseness of his muscles as he stepped closer to her.
"Was your uncle there with you, Miss Harlan?"
She nodded, and saw his lips curve with a mirthless smile.
"What did Carrington do?" The passion in his voice made an icy shiverrun over her--she felt the terrible earnestness that had come over him,and a pulse of fear gripped her.
She had never felt more like crying than at this instant, and until thisminute she had not known how deeply she had been affected byCarrington's conduct, nor how tired she was, nor how she had yearned forthe sympathy Taylor was giving her. But she felt that something inTaylor's manner portended violence, and she did not want him to risk hislife fighting Carrington--for her.
"You see," she explained, "Mr. Carrington did not really _do_ anything.He just came there, and was impertinent, and impudent, and insulting.And he told me that he had bought the house; that it didn't belong touncle--though I thought it did; and that the people of Dawes--andeverywhere--would think--things--about me--as the people of Westwoodhad--thought. And I--I--why, I just couldn't stay----"
"That's enough, Miss Harlan. So Carrington didn't do anything." Hisvoice was vibrant with some sternly repressed passion.
"So you walked all the way here, and you have had no breakfast," hesaid, shortly. He turned toward the front door, his voice snapping likethe report of a rifle:
"Bud!"
And, looking through the doorway, Miss Harlan saw Bud jump as though hehad been shot. He appeared in the doorway, serious-faced and alert.
"Rustle some breakfast--quick! And hoe out that spare bedroom. Jump!"
Taylor understood perfectly what had happened, for he remembered what hehad overheard between Carrington and Parsons on the train. To be sure,Miss Harlan knew nothing about the conversation, and so she mentallycommended Taylor's quickness of perception, and felt grateful to himbecause he had spared her the horror of explaining further.
She sat down again, aware of the startling unconventionality of thisvisit and of the conversation that had resulted from it, but oppressedwith no sense of shame. For it seemed entirely natural that she shouldhave come to Taylor, though she supposed that was because he had beenher father's friend, and that she had no other person to go to--not evenif she went East, to Westwood. But she would not have mentioned what hadhappened at the big house if Martha had not taken the initiative.
She was startled over the change that had come in Taylor. Watching himcovertly as he stood near her, and following his movements as he walkedaround in the room, helping Bud, generously leaving her to herself andher thoughts, she looked in vain for that gentleness and subtlethoughtfulness that hitherto had seemed to distinguish him. She hadadmired him for his easy-going manner, the slow deliberateness of hisglances, the quizzical gleam of
his eyes.
But she saw him now as many of the men in this section of the countryhad seen him when he faced the necessity for rapid, determined action.It was the other side of his character; before she had heard his voice,and before she had seen him smile--the stern, unyielding side of himwhich she had discovered always was ready for the blows of adversity andenmity--his fighting side.
And when she went into the house to breakfast, feeling the strangenessof it all--of the odd fate which had led her to the Arrow; the queerreluctance that affected her over the action in accepting thehospitality of a man who--except for his association with herfather--was almost a stranger to her--she found that he did not intendto insinuate his presence upon her.
He called her, and stood near the table when she and Martha went in.Then he told her gravely that the house was "hers," and that he and Budwould live in the bunkhouse.
"And when you get settled," he told her, as he stood in the doorway,ready to go, "we'll write those articles of partnership. And," he added,"don't you go to worrying about Carrington. If he comes here, and Bud orme ain't here, you'll find a loaded rifle hanging behind the front door.Don't be afraid to use it--there's no law against killing snakes outhere!"
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