The B. M. Bower Megapack

by B. M. Bower

  Something in Beatrice’s throat ached cruelly. It was the truth, and she knew it. He did love her, and the love of a brave man is not a thing to be thrust lightly aside. But it demanded such a lot in return! More, perhaps, than she could give. A love like that—a love that gives everything—demands everything in return. Anything less insults it.

  She stole a glance at him. Sir Redmond was looking straight before him, with the fixed gaze that sees nothing. There was the white line around his mouth which Beatrice had seen once before. Again that griping ache was in her throat, till she could have cried out with the pain of it. She wanted to speak, to say something—anything—which would drive that look from his face.

  While her mind groped among the jumble of words that danced upon her tongue, and that seemed, all of them, so pitifully weak and inadequate, she heard the galloping hoofs of a horse pounding close behind. A choking cloud of dust swept down upon them, and Keith, riding in the midst, reined out to pass. He lifted his hat. His eyes challenged Beatrice, swept coldly the face of her companion, and turned again to the trail. He swung his heels backward, and Redcloud broke again into the tireless lope that carried him far ahead, until there was only a brown dot speeding over the prairie.

  Sir Redmond waited until Keith was far beyond hearing, then he filled his lungs deeply and looked at Beatrice. “Don’t you feel you could trust me—and love me a little?”

  Beatrice was deadly afraid she was going to cry, and she hated weeping women above all things. “A little wouldn’t do,” she said, with what firmness she could muster. “I should want to love you as much—quite as much as you deserve, Sir Redmond, or not at all. I’m afraid I can’t. I wish I could, though. I—I think I should like to love you; but perhaps I haven’t much heart. I like you very much—better than I ever liked any one before; but oh, I wish you wouldn’t insist on an answer! I don’t know, myself, how I feel. I wish you had not asked me—yet. I tried not to let you.”

  “A man can keep his heart still for a certain time, Beatrice, but not for always. Some time he will say what his heart commands, if the chance is given him; the woman can’t hold him back. I did wait and wait, because I thought you weren’t ready for me to speak. And—you don’t care for anybody else?”

  “Of course I don’t. But I hate to give up my freedom to any one, Sir Redmond. I want to be free—free as the wind that blows here always, and changes and changes, and blows from any point that suits its whim, without being bound to any rule.”

  “Do you think I’m an ogre, that will lock you in a dungeon, Beatrice? Can’t you see that I am not threatening your freedom? I only want the right to love you, and make you happy. I should not ask you to go or stay where you did not please, and I’d be good to you, Beatrice!”

  “I don’t think it would matter,” cried Beatrice, “if you weren’t. I should love you because I couldn’t help myself. I hate doing things by rule, I tell you. I couldn’t care for you because you were good to me, and I ought to care; it must be because I can’t help myself. And I—” She stopped and shut her teeth hard together; she felt sure she should cry in another minute if this went on.

  “I believe you do love me, Beatrice, and your rebellious young American nature dreads surrender.” He tried to look into her eyes and smile, but she kept her eyes looking straight ahead. Then Sir Redmond made the biggest blunder of his life, out of the goodness of his heart, and because he hated to tease her into promising anything.

  “I won’t ask you to tell me now, Beatrice,” he said gently. “I want you to be sure; I never could forgive myself if you ever felt you had made a mistake. A week from tonight I shall ask you once more—and it will be for the last time. After that—But I won’t think—I daren’t think what it would be like if you say no. Will you tell me then, Beatrice?”

  The heart of Beatrice jumped into her throat. At that minute she was very near to saying yes, and having done with it. She was quite sure she knew, then, what her answer would be in a week. The smile she gave him started Sir Redmond’s blood to racing exultantly. Her lips parted a little, as if a word were there, ready to be spoken; but she caught herself back from the decision. Sir Redmond had voluntarily given her a week; well, then, she would take it, to the last minute.

  “Yes, I’ll tell you a week from tonight, after dinner. I’ll race you home, Sir Redmond—the first one through the big gate by the stable wins!” She struck Rex a blow that made him jump, and darted off down the trail that led home, and her teasing laugh was the last Sir Redmond heard of her that day; for she whipped into a narrow gulch when the first turn hid her from him, and waited until he had thundered by. After that she rode complacently, deep into the hills, wickedly pleased at the trick she had played him.

  Every day during the week that followed she slipped away from him and rode away by herself, resolved to enjoy her freedom to the full while she had it; for after that, she felt, things would never be quite the same.

  Every day, when Dick had chance for a quiet word with her, he wanted to know who owned Rex—till at last she lost her temper and told him plainly that, in her opinion, Keith Cameron had left the country for two reasons, instead of one. (For Keith, be it known, had not been seen since the day he passed her and Sir Redmond on the trail.) Beatrice averred that she had a poor opinion of a man who would not stay and face whatever was coming.

  There was just one day left in her week of freedom, and Dick still owned Rex, with the chances all in his favor for continuing to do so. Still, Beatrice was vindictively determined upon one point. Let Keith Cameron cross her path, and she would do something she had never done before; she would deliberately lead him on to propose—if the fellow had nerve enough to do so, which, she told Dick, she doubted.

  CHAPTER 12

  Held Up by Mr.Kelly

  “‘Traveler, what lies over the hill?’” questioned a mischievous voice.

  Keith, dreaming along a winding, rock-strewn trail in the canyon, looked up quickly and beheld his Heart’s Desire sitting calmly upon her horse, ten feet before Redcloud’s nose, watching him amusedly. Redcloud must have been dreaming also, or he would have whinnied warning and welcome, with the same breath.

  “‘Traveler, tell to me,’” she went on, seeing Keith only stared.

  Keith, not to be outdone, searched his memory hurriedly for the reply which should rightly follow; secretly he was amazed at her sudden friendliness.

  “‘Child, there’s a valley over there’—but it isn’t ‘pretty and wooded and shy’—not what you can notice. And there isn’t any ‘little town,’ either, unless you go a long way. Why?” Keith rested his gloved hands, one above the other, on the saddle horn, and let his eyes riot with the love that was in him. He had not seen his Heart’s Desire for a week. A week? It seemed a thousand years! And here she was before him, unusually gracious.

  “Why? I discovered that hill two hours ago, it seems to me, and it wasn’t more than a mile off. I want to see what lies on the other side. I feel sure no man ever stood upon the top and looked down. It is my hill—mine by the right of discovery. But I’ve been going, and going, and I think it’s rather farther away, if anything, than it was before.”

  “Good thing I met you’” Keith declared, and he looked as if he meant it. “You’re probably lost, right now, and don’t know it. Which way is home?”

  Beatrice smiled a superior smile, and pointed.

  “I thought so,” grinned Keith joyously. “You’re pointing straight toward Claggett.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” said Beatrice, “since you know, and you’re here. The important thing is to get to the top of that hill.”

  “What for?” Keith questioned.

  “Why, to be there!” Beatrice opened her big eyes at him. “That,” she declared whimsically, “is the top of the world, and it is mine. I found it. I want to go up there and look down.”

  “It’s an unmerciful climb,” Keith demurred hypocritically, to strengthen her resolution.

  “All the better. I
don’t value what comes easily.”

  “You won’t see anything, except more hills.”

  “I love hills—and more hills.”

  “You’re a long way from home, and it’s after one o’clock.”

  “I have a lunch with me, and I often stay out until dinner time.”

  Keith gave a sigh that shook the saddle, making up, in volume, what it lacked in sincerity. The blood in him was a-jump at the prospect of leading his Heart’s Desire up next the clouds—up where the world was yet young. A man in love is fond of self-torture.

  “I have not said you must go.” Beatrice answered with the sigh.

  “You don’t have to,” he retorted. “It is a self evident fact. Who wants to go prowling around these hills by night, with a lantern that smokes an’ has an evil smell, losing sleep and yowling like a bunch of coyotes, hunting a misguided young woman who thinks north is south, and can’t point straight up?”

  “You draw a flattering picture, Mr. Cameron.”

  “It’s realistic. Do you still insist upon getting up there, for the doubtful pleasure of looking down?” Secretly, he hoped so.

  “Certainly.”

  “Then I shall go with you.”

  “You need not. I can go very well by myself, Mr. Cameron.”

  Beatrice was something of a hypocrite herself.

  “I shall go where duty points the way.”

  “I hope it points toward home, then.”

  “It doesn’t, though. It takes the trail you take.”

  “I never yet allowed my wishes to masquerade as Disagreeable Duty, with two big D’s,” she told him tartly, and started off.

  “Say! If you’re going up that hill, this is the trail. You’ll bump up against a straight cliff if you follow that path.”

  Beatrice turned with seeming reluctance and allowed him to guide her, just as she had intended he should do.

  “Dick tells me you have been away,” she began suavely.

  “Yes. I’ve just got back from Fort Belknap,” he explained quietly, though he must have known his absence had been construed differently. “I’ve rented pasturage on the reservation for every hoof I own. Great grass over there—the whole prairie like a hay meadow, almost, and little streams everywhere.”

  “You are very fortunate,” Beatrice remarked politely.

  “Luck ought to come my way once in a while. I don’t seem to get more than my share, though.”

  “Dick will be glad to know you have a good range for your cattle, Mr. Cameron.”

  “I expect he will. You may tell him, for me, that Jim Worthington—he’s the agent over there, and was in college with us—says I can have my cattle there as long as he’s running the place.”

  “Why not tell him yourself?” Beatrice asked.

  “I don’t expect to be over to the Pool ranch for a while.” Keith’s tone was significant, and Beatrice dropped the subject.

  “Been fishing lately?” he asked easily, as though he had not left her that day in a miff. “No. Dorman is fickle, like all male creatures. Dick brought him two little brown puppies the other day, and now he can hardly be dragged from the woodshed to his meals. I believe he would eat and sleep with them if his auntie would allow him to.”

  The trail narrowed there, and they were obliged to ride single file, which was not favorable to conversation. Thus far, Beatrice thought, she was a long way from winning her wager; but she did not worry—she looked up to where the hill towered above them, and smiled.

  “We’ll have to get off and lead our horses over this spur,” he told her, at last. “Once on the other side, we can begin to climb. Still in the humor to tackle it?”

  “To be sure I am. After all this trouble I shall not turn back.”

  “All right,” said Keith, inwardly shouting. If his Heart’s Desire wished to take a climb that would last a good two hours, he was not there to object. He led her up a steep, rock-strewn ridge and into a hollow. From there the hill sloped smoothly upward.

  “I’ll just anchor these cayuses to a rock, to make dead-sure of them,” Keith remarked. “It wouldn’t be fun to be set afoot out here; now, would it? How would you like the job of walking home, eh?”

  “I don’t think I’d enjoy it much,” Beatrice said, showing her one dimple conspicuously. “I’d rather ride.”

  “Throw up your hands!” growled a voice from somewhere.

  Keith wheeled toward the sound, and a bullet spatted into the yellow clay, two inches from the toe of his boot. Also, a rifle cracked sharply. He took the hint, and put his hands immediately on a level with his hat crown.

  “No use,” he called out ruefully. “I haven’t anything to return the compliment with.”

  “Well, I’ve got t’ have the papers fur that, mister,” retorted the voice, and a man appeared from the shelter of a rock and came slowly down to them—a man, long-legged and lank, with haggard, unshaven face and eyes that had hunger and dogged endurance looking out. He picked his way carefully with his feet, his eyes and the rifle fixed unswervingly at the two. Beatrice was too astonished to make a sound.

  “What sort of a hold-up do you call this?” demanded Keith hotly, his hands itching to be down and busy. “We don’t carry rolls of money around in the hills, you fool!”

  “Oh, damn your money!” the man said roughly. “I’ve got money t’ burn. I want t’ trade horses with yuh. That roan, there, looks like a stayer. I’ll take him.”

  “Well, seeing you seem to be head push here, I guess it’s a trade,” Keith answered. “But I’ll thank you for my own saddle.”

  Beatrice, whose hands were up beside her ears, and not an inch higher, changed from amazed curiosity to concern. “Oh, you mustn’t take Redcloud away from Mr. Cameron!” she protested. “You don’t know—he’s so fond of that horse! You may take mine; he’s a good horse—he’s a perfectly splendid horse, but I—I’m not so attached to him.”

  The fellow stopped and looked at her—not, however, forgetting Keith, who was growing restive. Beatrice’s cheeks were very pink, and her eyes were bright and big and earnest. He could not look into them without letting some of the sternness drop out of his own.

  “I wish you’d please take Rex—I’d rather trade than not,” she coaxed. When Beatrice coaxed, mere man must yield or run. The fellow was but human, and he was not in a position to run, so he grinned and wavered.

  “It’s fair to say you’ll get done,” he remarked, his eyes upon the odd little dimple at the corner of her mouth, as if he had never seen anything quite so fetching.

  “Your horse won’t cr—buck, will he?” she ventured doubtfully. This was her first horse trade, and it behooved her to be cautious, even at the point of a rifle.

  “Well, no,” said the man laconically; “he won’t. He’s dead.”

  “Oh!” Beatrice gasped and blushed. She might have known, she thought, that the fellow would not take all this trouble if his horse was in a condition to buck. Then: “My elbows hurt. I—I think I should like to sit down.”

  “Sure,” said the man politely. “Make yourself comfortable. I ain’t used t’ dealin’ with ladies. But you got t’ set still, yuh know, and not try any tricks. I can put up a mighty swift gun play when I need to—and your bein’ a lady wouldn’t cut no ice in a case uh that kind.”

  “Thank you.” Beatrice sat down upon the nearest rock, folded her hands meekly and looked from him to Keith, who seethed to claim a good deal of the man’s attention. She observed that, at a long breath from Keith, his captor was instantly alert.

  “Maybe your elbows ache, too,” he remarked dryly. “They’ll git over it, though; I’ve knowed a man t’ grab at the clouds upwards of an hour, an’ no harm done.”

  “That’s encouraging, I’m sure.” Keith shifted to the other foot.

  “How’s that sorrel?” demanded the man. “Can he go?”

  Keith hesitated a second.

  “Indeed he can go!” put in Beatrice eagerly. “He’s every bit as good as Redcloud.”<
br />
  “Is that sorrel yours?” The man’s eyes shifted briefly to her face.

  “No-o.” Beatrice, thinking how she had meant to own him, blushed.

  “That accounts for it.” He laughed unpleasantly. “I wondered why you was so dead anxious t’ have me take him.”

  The eyes of Beatrice snapped sparks at him, but her manner was demure, not to say meek. “He belongs to my brother,” she explained, “and my brother has dozens of good saddle-horses. Mr. Cameron’s horse is a pet. It’s different when a horse follows you all over the place and fairly talks to you. He’ll shake hands, and—”

  “Uh-huh, I see the point, I guess. What d’yuh say, kid?”

  Keith might seem boyish, but he did not enjoy being addressed as “kid.” He was twenty-eight years old, whether he looked it or not.

  “I say this: If you take my horse, I’ll kill you. I’ll have twenty-five cow-punchers camping on your trail before sundown. If you take this girl’s horse, I’ll do the same.”

  The man shut his lips in a thin line.

  “No, he won’t!” cried Beatrice, leaning forward. “Don’t mind a thing he says! You can’t expect a man to keep his temper with his hands up in the air like that. You take Rex, and I’ll promise for Mr. Cameron.”

  “Trix—Miss Lansell!”—sternly.

  “I promise you he won’t do a thing,” she went on firmly. “He—he isn’t half as fierce, really, as—as he looks.”

  Keith’s face got red.

  The man laughed a little. Evidently the situation amused him, whether the others could see the humor of it or not. “So I’m to have your cayuse, eh?”

  Keith saw two big tears tipping over her lower lids, and gritted his teeth.

  “Well, it ain’t often I git a chance t’ please a lady,” the fellow decided. “I guess Rex’ll do, all right. Go over and change saddles, youngster—and don’t git gay. I’ve got the drop, and yuh notice I’m keeping it.”

  “Are you going to take his saddle?” Beatrice stood up and clenched her hands, looking very much as if she would like to pull his hair. Keith in trouble appealed to her strangely.