Her Prairie Knight

by B. M. Bower

  CHAPTER 3. A Tilt With Sir Redmond.

  Beatrice, standing on the top of a steep, grassy slope, was engaged inthe conventional pastime of enjoying the view. It was a fine view, butit was not half as good to look upon as was Beatrice herself, in herfresh white waist and brown skirt, with her brown hair fluffing softlyin the breeze which would grow to a respectable wind later in the day,and with her cheeks pink from climbing.

  She was up where she could see the river, a broad band of blue in thesurrounding green, winding away for miles through the hills. The farbank stood a straight two hundred feet of gay-colored rock, chiseled, bytime and stress of changeful weather, into fanciful turrets and towers.Above and beyond, where the green began, hundreds of moving dots toldwhere the cattle were feeding quietly. Far away to the south, heaps ofhazy blue and purple slept in the sunshine; Dick had told her thosewere the Highwoods. And away to the west, a jagged line of blue-whiteglimmered and stood upon tip-toes to touch the swimming clouds--touchedthem and pushed above proudly; those were the Rockies. The Bear Pawsstood behind her; nearer they were--so near they lost the glamour ofmysterious blue shadows, and became merely a sprawling group of huge,pine-covered hills, with ranches dotted here and there in shelteredplaces, with squares of fresh, dark green that spoke of growing crops.

  Ten days, and the metropolitan East had faded and become as hazy andvague as the Highwoods. Ten days, and the witchery of the West leaped inher blood and held her fast in its thralldom.

  A sound of scrambling behind her was immediately followed by a smotheredepithet. Beatrice turned in time to see Sir Redmond pick himself up.

  "These grass slopes are confounded slippery, don't you know," heexplained apologetically. "How did you manage that climb?"

  "I didn't." Beatrice smiled. "I came around the end, where the ascent isgradual; there's a good path."

  "Oh!" Sir Redmond sat down upon a rock and puffed. "I saw you uphere--and a fellow doesn't think about taking a roundabout course toreach his heart's--"

  "Isn't it lovely?" Beatrice made haste to inquire.

  "Lovely isn't half expressive enough," he told her. "You look--"

  "The river is so very blue and dignified. I've been wondering if it hasforgotten how it must have danced through those hills, away off there.When it gets down to the cities--this blue water--it will be muddy andnasty looking. The 'muddy Missouri' certainly doesn't apply here. Andthat farther shore is simply magnificent. I wish I might stay hereforever."

  "The Lord forbid!" cried he, with considerable fervor. "There's a dearnook in old England where I hope--"

  "You did get that mud off your leggings, I see," Beatrice remarkedinconsequentially. "James must have worked half the time we've beenhere. They certainly were in a mess the last time I saw them."

  "Bother the leggings! But I take it that's a good sign, MissLansell--your taking notice of such things."

  Beatrice returned to the landscape. "I wonder who originated thatphrase, 'The cattle grazing on a thousand hills'? He must have stoodjust here when he said it."

  "Wasn't it one of your American poets? Longfellow, or--er--"

  Beatrice simply looked at him a minute and said "Pshaw!"

  "Well," he retorted, "you don't know yourself who it was."

  "And to think," Beatrice went on, ignoring the subject, "some of thosegrazing cows and bossy calves are mine--my very own. I never caredbefore, or thought much about it, till I came out and saw where theylive, and Dick pointed to a cow and the sweetest little red and whitecalf, and said: 'That's your cow and calf, Trix.' They were dreadfullyafraid of me, though--I'm afraid they didn't recognize me as theirmistress. I wanted to get down and pet the calf--it had the dearestlittle snub nose but they bolted, and wouldn't let me near them."

  "I fancy they were not accustomed to meeting angels unawares."

  "Sir Redmond, I wish you wouldn't. You are so much nicer when you're nottrying to be nice."

  "I'll act a perfect brute," he offered eagerly, "if that will make youlove me."

  "It's hardly worth trying. I think you would make a very poor sort ofvillain, Sir Redmond. You wouldn't even be picturesque."

  Sir Redmond looked rather floored. He was a good fighter, was SirRedmond, but he was clumsy at repartee--or, perhaps, he was too much inearnest to fence gracefully. Just now he looked particularly foolish.

  "Don't you think my brand is pretty? You know what it is, don't you?"

  "I'm afraid not," he owned. "I fancy I need a good bit of coaching inthe matter of brands."

  "Yes," agreed Beatrice, "I fancy you do. My brand is a TriangleBar--like this." With a sharp pointed bit of rock she drew a more orless exact diagram in the yellow soil. "There are ever so many differentbrands belonging to the Northern Pool; Dick pointed them out to me, butI can't remember them. But whenever you see a Triangle Bar you'll belooking at my individual property. I think it was nice of Dick to giveme a brand all my own. Mr. Cameron has a pretty brand, too--a MalteseCross. The Maltese Cross was owned at one time by President Roosevelt.Mr. Cameron bought it when he left college and went into the cattlebusiness. He 'plays a lone hand,' as he calls it; but his cattle rangewith the Northern Pool, and he and Dick work together a great deal. Ithink he has lovely eyes, don't you?" The eyes of Beatrice were intentupon the Bear Paws when she said it--which brought her shoulder towardSir Redmond and hid her face from him.

  "I can't say I ever observed Mr. Cameron's eyes," said Sir Redmondstiffly.

  Beatrice turned back to him, and smiled demurely. When Beatrice smiledthat very demure smile, of which she was capable, the weather-wisegenerally edged toward their cyclone-cellars. Sir Redmond was notweather-wise--he was too much in love with her--and he did not possess acyclone cellar; he therefore suffered much at the hands of Beatrice.

  "But surely you must have noticed that deep, deep dimple in his chin?"she questioned innocently. Keith Cameron, I may say, did not have adimple in his chin at all; there was, however, a deep crease in it.

  "I did not." Sir Redmond rubbed his own chin, which was so far fromdimpling that is was rounded like half an apricot.

  "Dear me! And you sat opposite to him at dinner yesterday, too! Isuppose, then, you did not observe that his teeth are the whitest,evenest."

  "They make them cheaply over here, I'm told," he retorted, setting hisheel emphatically down and annihilating a red and black caterpillar.

  "Now, why did you do that? I must say you English are rather brutal?"

  "I can't abide worms."

  "Well, neither can I. And I think it would be foolish to quarrel about aman's good looks," Beatrice said, with surprising sweetness.

  Sir Redmond hunched his shoulders and retreated to the comfort ofhis pipe. "A bally lot of good looks!" he sneered. "A woman is neverconvinced, though."

  "I am." Beatrice sat down upon a rock and rested her elbows on her kneesand her chin in her hands--and an adorable picture she made, I assureyou. "I'm thoroughly convinced of several things. One is Mr. Cameron'sgood looks; another is that you're cross."

  "Oh, come, now!" protested Sir Redmond feebly, and sucked furiously athis pipe.

  "Yes," reiterated Beatrice, examining his perturbed face judicially;"you are downright ugly."

  The face of Sir Redmond grew redder and more perturbed; just as Beatricemeant that it should; she seemed to derive a keen pleasure from goadingthis big, good-looking Englishman to the verge of apoplexy.

  "I'm sure I never meant to be rude; but a fellow can't fall down andworship every young farmer, don't you know--not even to please you!"

  Beatrice smiled and threw a pebble down the slope, watching it bound andskip to the bottom, where it rolled away and hid in the grass.

  "I love this wide country," she observed, abandoning her torture witha suddenness that was a characteristic of her nature. When Beatrice hadmade a man look and act the fool she was ready to stop; one cannot saythat of every woman. "One can draw long, deep breaths without robbingone's neighbor of oxygen. Everything is so big, and broad,
and generous,out here. One can ride for miles and miles through the grandest, wildestplaces,--and--there aren't any cigar and baking-powder and liver-pillsigns plastered over the rocks, thank goodness! If man has traveled thatway before, you do not have the evidence of his passing staring youin the face. You can make believe it is all your own--by right ofdiscovery. I'm afraid your England would seem rather little and crowdedafter a month or two of this." She swept her hand toward the river, andthe grass-land beyond, and the mountains rimming the world.

  "You should see the moors!" cried Sir Redmond, brightening under thispeaceful mood of hers. "I fancy you would not find trouble in drawinglong breaths there. Moor Cottage, where your sister and Wiltmar lived,is surrounded by wide stretches of open--not like this, to be sure, butnot half-bad in its way, either."

  "Dolly grew to love that place, though she did write homesick letters atfirst. I was going over, after my coming out--and then came that awfulaccident, when she and Wiltmar were both drowned--and, of course, therewas nothing to go for. I should have hated the place then, I think. ButI should like--" Her voice trailed off dreamily, her eyes on the hazyHighwoods.

  Sir Redmond watched her, his eyes a-shine; Beatrice in this mood wassomething to worship. He was almost afraid to speak, for fear she wouldsnuff out the tiny flame of hope which her half-finished sentence hadkindled. He leaned forward, his face eager.

  "Beatrice, only say you will go--with me, dear!"

  Beatrice started; for the moment she had forgotten him. Her eyes kept tothe hills. "Go--to England? One trip at a time, Sir Redmond. I havebeen here only ten days, and we came for three months. Three months offreedom in this big, glorious place."

  "And then?" His voice was husky.

  "And then--freckle lotions by the quart, I expect."

  Sir Redmond got upon his feet, and he was rather white around the mouth.

  "We Englishmen are a stubborn lot, Miss Beatrice. We won't stop fightinguntil we win."

  "We Yankees," retorted she airily, "value our freedom above everythingelse. We won't surrender it without fighting for it first."

  He caught eagerly at the lack of finality in her tones. "I don't want totake your freedom, Beatrice. I only want the right to love you."

  "Oh, as for that, I suppose you may love me as much as you please--onlyso you don't torment me to death talking about it."

  Beatrice, not looking particularly tormented, waved answer to Dick, whowas shouting something up at her, and went blithely down the hill, withSir Redmond following gloomily, several paces behind.