CHAPTER XXIII--A WORLD-OLD LONGING
Looking back upon the long period of Taylor's convalescence, MarionHarlan could easily understand why she had surrendered to the patient.
In the first place, she had liked Taylor from the very beginning--evenwhen she had affected to ridicule him on the train coming toward Dawes.She had known all along that she had liked him, and on that morning whenshe had visited the Arrow to ask about her father Taylor had woven amagnetic spell about her.
That meeting and the succeeding ones had merely strengthened her likingfor him. But the inevitable intimacy between nurse and patient duringseveral long weeks of convalescence had wrought havoc with her heart.
Taylor's unfailing patience and good humor had been another factor inbringing about her surrender. It was hard for her to believe that he hadfought a desperate battle which had resulted in the death of three menand the wounding of Carrington and himself; for there were no savageimpulses or passions gleaming in the eyes that followed her everymovement while she had been busy in the sickroom for some weeks. Norcould she see any lingering threat in them, promising more violence uponhis recovery. He seemed to have forgotten that there had been a fight,and during the weeks that she had been close to him he had not evenmentioned it. He had been content, it seemed, to lounge in a chair andlisten to her while she read, to watch her; and there had been timeswhen she had seen a glow in his eyes that told her things that shelonged to hear him say.
The girl's surrender had not been conveyed to Taylor in words, thoughshe was certain he knew of it; for the signs of it must have beenvisible, since she could feel the blushes in her cheeks at times when aword or a look passing between them was eloquent with the proof of heraroused emotions.
It was on a morning about six weeks following the incident of theshooting that she and Taylor had walked to the river. Upon a huge flatrock near the edge of a slight promontory they seated themselves, Taylorturned slightly, so that she had only a profile view of him.
Taylor's thoughts were grave. For from where he and the girl sat--farbeyond the vast expanse of green-brown grass that carpeted the biglevel--he could see a huge cleft in some mountains. And the sight ofthat cleft sent Taylor's thoughts leaping back to the days he and LarryHarlan had spent in these mountains, searching for--and finding--thatgold for which they had come. And inevitably as the contemplation of themountains brought him recollections of Larry Harlan he was reminded ofhis obligation to his old-time partner. And the difficulties ofdischarging that obligation were increasing, it seemed.
At least, Taylor's duty was not quite clear to him. For while Parsonsstill retained a place in the girl's affections he could not turn overto her Larry's share of the money he had received from the sale of themine.
And Parsons did retain the girl's affections--likewise her confidenceand trust. A man must be blind who could not see that. For the girllooked after him as any dutiful girl might care for a father she loved.Her attitude toward the man puzzled Taylor, for, he assured himself, ifshe would but merely study the man's face perfunctorily she could nothave failed to see the signs of deceit and hypocrisy in it. All of whichconvinced Taylor of the truth of the old adage: "Love is blind."
One other influence which dissuaded Taylor from an impulse to turn overLarry's money to the girl was his determination to win her on his ownmerits. That might have seemed selfishness on his part, but now that thegirl was at the Arrow he could see that she was well supplied witheverything she needed. Her legacy would not buy her more than he wouldgive her gratuitously. And he did not want her to think for a singlemoment he was trying to buy her love. That, to his mind was grosscommercialism.
Marion was not looking at the mountains; she was watching Taylor'sprofile--and blushing over thoughts that came to her.
For she wished that she might have met him under differentconditions--upon a basis of equality. And that was not the basis uponwhich they stood now. She had come to the Arrow because she had no otherplace to go, vindicating her action upon Taylor's declaration that hehad been her father's friend.
That had been a tangible premise, and was sufficient to satisfy, or todull, any surface scruples he might have had regarding the propriety ofthe action. But her own moral sense struck deeper than that. She feltshe had no right to be here; that Taylor had made the offer of apartnership out of charity. And so long as she stayed here, dependentupon him for food and shelter, she could not permit him to speak a wordof love to her--much as she wanted him to speak it. Such was thepuritanical principle driven deep into the moral fabric of her characterby a mother who had set her a bad example.
This man had fought for her; he had risked his life to punish a man whohad wronged her in thought, only; and she knew he loved her. And yet,seated so near him, she could not put out the hand that longed to touchhim.
However, her thoughts were not tragic--far from it! Youth is hopefulbecause it has so long to wait. And there was in her heart at thismoment a presentiment that time would sever the bonds of propriety thatheld her. And the instincts of her sex--though never having been testedin the arts of coquetry--told her how to keep his heart warm toward heruntil that day, having achieved her independence, she could meet him ona basis of equality.
"Mr. Squint," she suddenly demanded; "what are you thinking about?"
He turned and looked full at her, his eyes glowing with a grave humor.
"I'd tell you if I thought you'd listen to me," he returned,significantly. "But it seems that every time I get on that subject youpoke fun at me. Is there _anything_ I can do to show you that I loveyou--that I want you more than any man ever wanted a woman?"
"Yes--there is." Her smile was tantalizing.
"Name it!" he demanded, eagerly.
"Stop being tragic. I don't like you when you are tragic--or when youare talking nonsense about love. I have heard so much of it!"
"From me, I suppose?" he said, gloomily.
He had turned his head and she shot a quick, eloquent glance at him."From you--and several others," she said, deliberately.
There was a resentful, hurt look in his eyes when he turned and lookedat her. "Just how many?" he demanded, somewhat gruffly.
"Jealous!" she said, shaking her finger at him. "Do you want a bill ofparticulars? Because if you do," she added, looking demurely downward,"I should have to take several days to think it over. You see, a womancan't catalogue everything men say to her--for they say so many sillythings!"
"Love isn't silly," he declared. He looked rather fiercely at her. "Whatkind of a man do you like best?" he demanded.
She blushed. "I like a big man--about as big as you," she said. "A manwith fierce eyes that glower at a woman when she talks to him oflove--she insisting that she hasn't quite fallen in love--with _him_. Ilike a man who is jealous of the reputation of the woman he _professes_to love; a man who is jealous of other men; a man who isn't so verygood-looking, but who is a handsome man for all that--because he is sovery manly; a man who will fight and risk his life for me."
"Could you name such a man?" he said. There was a scornful gleam in hiseyes.
"I am looking at him this minute!" she said.
Grinning, for he knew all along that she had been talking of him, hewheeled quickly and tried to catch her in his arms. But she slipped offthe rock and was around on the other side of it, keeping it between themwhile he tried to catch her. Instinctively he realized that the chasewas hopeless, but he persisted.
"I'll never speak to you again if you catch me!" she warned, her eyesflashing.
"But you told me----"
"That I liked you," she interrupted. "And liking a man isn't----"
And then she paused and looked down, blushing, while Taylor, in the actof vaulting over the rock, collapsed and sat on it instead, red of faceand embarrassed.
For within a dozen paces of them, and looking rather embarrassed andself-conscious, himself, though with a twinkle in his eyes that madeTaylor's cheeks turn redder--was Bud Hemmingway.
"I'm beggi
n' your pardon," said the puncher; "but I've come to tell youthat Neil Norton is here--again. He's been settin' on the porch for anhour or two--he says. But I think he's stretching it. Anyway, he's tiredof waitin' for you--he says--an' he's been wonderin' if you was goin' toset on that boulder all day!"
Taylor slipped off the rock and started toward Bud, feigning resentment.
Bud, his face agitated by a broad grin, deliberately winked at MissHarlan--though he spoke to Taylor.
"I'd be a little careful about how I went to jumpin' off boulders--youmight bust your ankle again!"
And then Taylor grinned at Miss Harlan--who pretended a severity she didnot feel; while Bud, cackling mirthfully, went toward the ranchhouse.
The Ranchman Page 23
