by B. M. Bower
CHAPTER XIII
THE CORRAL IN THE CANYON
Where the creek trail crossed the Big Hill and then swung to the leftthat it might follow the easy slopes of Cedar Creek, Blue turned off tothe right of his own accord, as if he took it for granted that his ladywould return the way she had come. His lady had not thought anythingabout it, but after a brief hesitation she decided that Blue shouldhave his way; after all, it would simplify her explanations of the longride if she came home by way of the canyon. She could say that she hadridden farther out into the hills than usual, which was true enough.
Billy Louise did not own such a breeder of blues as a lazy liver, hernerves were in fine working order, and her digestion was perfect; andit is a well-known fact that a trouble must be born of reality ratherthan imagination, if it would ride far behind the cantle. Billy Louisewas late, and already the shadows lay like long draperies upon thehills she faced: long, purple cloaks ruffed with golden yellow andpatterned with indigo patches, which were the pines, and splotches ofdark green, which were the thickets of alder and quaking aspens. Shecouldn't feel depressed for very long, and before she had climbed overthe first rugged ridge that reached out like a crooked finger into thenarrow valley, she was humming under her breath and riding with thereins dropped loose upon Blue's neck, so that he went where the waypleased him best. Before she was down that ridge and beginning toclimb the next, she was singing softly a song her mother had taught herlong ago, when she was seven or so:
"The years creep slowly by, Lorena, The snow is on the grass again; The sun's low down the sky, Lorena--"
Blue gathered himself together and jumped a washout three feet acrossand goodness knows how deep and jarred that melancholy melody quite outof Billy Louise's mind. When she had settled herself again to the slowclimb, she broke out with what she called Ward's Come-all-ye, and witha twinkle of eye and both dimples showing deep, went on with a veryslight interruption in her singing.
"'Oh, a ten-dollar hoss and a forty-dollar saddle'--that's you Blue.You don't amount to nothing nohow, doing jackrabbit stunts like thatwhen I'm not looking! 'Coma ti yi youpy, youpy-a.'" She watched acloud shadow sweep like a great bird over a sunny slope and murmuredwhile she watched: "Cloud-boats sailing sunny seas--is that original,or have I cribbed it from some honest-to-goodness poet? Blue, if fatehadn't made a cowpuncher of me, I'd be chewing up lead-pencils tryingto find a rhyme for alfalfa, maybe. And where would you be, you oldskate? If the Louise of me had been developed at the expense of theBilly of me, and I'd taken to making battenburg doilies withbutterflies in the corners, and embroidering corset covers till I putmy eyes out, and writing poetry on Sundays when mommie wouldn't let mesew. I wonder if Ward-- Maybe he'd have liked me better if I'd livedup to the Louise and cut out the Billy part. I'd be home, right now,asking mommie whether I should use soda or baking-powder to make mymuffins with-- Oh, gracious!" She leaned over and caught a handful ofBlue's slatey mane and tousled it, till he laid his ears flat on hishead and nipped his nose around to show her that his teeth were baredto the gums. Billy Louise laughed and gave another yank.
"You wish I were an embroidering young lady, do you? Aw, where wouldyou be, if you didn't have me to devil the life out of you? Well, whydon't you take a chunk out of me, then? Don't be an old bluffer, Blue.If you want to eat me, why, go to it; only you don't. You're justa-bluffing. You like to be tousled and you know it; else why do youtag me all over the place when I don't want you? Huh? That's to payyou back for jumping that washout when I wasn't looking." A twitch ofthe mane here brought Blue's head around again with all his teethshowing. "And this is for jarring that lovely, weepy song out of me.You know you hate it; you always do lay back your ears when I singthat, but--oh, all right--when I sing, then. But you've got to standfor it. I've been an indigo bag all day long, and I'm going to sing ifI want to. Fate made me a lady cowpunch instead of a poet-ess, and youcan't stop me from singing when I feel it in my system."
She began again with the "Ten-dollar hoss and forty-dollar saddle," andsang as much of the old trail song as she had ever heard and couldremember, substituting milder expletives now and then and laughing atherself for doing it, because a self-confessed "lady cowpunch" is afterall hedged about by certain limitations in the matter of both speechand conduct. She did not sing it all, but she sang enough to last overa mile of rough going, and she did not have to repeat many verses to doit.
Blue, because she still left the reins loose, chose his own trail,which was easier than that which they had taken in the forenoon, butmore roundabout. Billy Louise, observing how he avoided rocky patchesand went considerably out of his way to keep his feet on soft soil,stopped in the middle of a "Coma ti yi" to ask him solicitously if hewere getting tender-footed; and promised him a few days off, in thepasture. Thereafter she encouraged the roundabout progress, eventhough she knew it would keep them in the hills until dusk; for she wasfoolishly careful of Blue, however much she might tease him and callhim names.
Quite suddenly, just at sundown, her cheerful journeying wasinterrupted in a most unexpected manner. She was dreaming along aflat-bottomed canyon, looking for an easy way across, when Blue threwup his head, listened with his ears thrust forward, and sniffed withwidened nostrils. From his manner, almost anything might lie ahead ofthem. And because certain of the possibilities would call for quickaction if any of them became a certainty, Billy Louise twisted hergun-belt around so that her six-shooter swung within easy reach of herhand. With her fingers she made sure that the gun was loose in itsholster and kicked Blue mildly as a hint to go on and see what it wasall about.
Blue went forward, stepping easily on the soft sidehill. In roughcountry, whatever you want to see is nearly always around a sharp bend;you read it so in the stories and books of travels, and when you rideout in the hills, you find it so in reality. Billy Louise rode forthree or four minutes before she received any inkling of what layahead, though Blue's behavior during that interval had served toreassure her somewhat. He was interested still in what lay just out ofsight beyond a shoulder of the hill, but he did not appear to be in theleast alarmed. Therefore, Billy Louise knew it couldn't be a bear, atany rate.
They came to the point of the hill's shoulder, and Billy Louisetightened the reins instinctively while she stared at what lay revealedbeneath. The head of the gulch was blocked with a corral--small, high,hidden from view on all sides save where she stood, by the jagged wallsof rock and heavy aspen thickets beyond.
The corral was but the setting for what Billy Louise stared at sounbelievingly. A horseman had ridden out of the corral just as shecame into sight, had turned a sharp corner, and had disappeared byriding up the same slope she occupied, but farther along, and in ashallow depression which hid him completely after that one briefglimpse.
Of course, the gulch was dusky with deep shadows, and she had had onlya glimpse. But the horse was a dark bay, and the rider was slim andtall and wore a gray hat. The heart of Billy Louise paused a momentfrom its steady beating and then sank heavily under a great weight.She was range-born and range-bred. She had sat wide-eyed on herdaddy's knees and heard him tell of losses in cattle and horses and ofcorrals found hidden away in strange places and of unknown riders whodisappeared mysteriously into the hills. She had heard of thesethings; they were a part of the stage setting for wild dramas of theWest.
With a white line showing around her close-pressed lips and a horror inher wide-eyed glance, she rode quietly along the side of the blufftoward where she had seen the horseman disappear. He was riding a darkbay, and he wore a gray hat and dark coat, and he was slim and tall.Billy Louise made a sound that was close to a groan and set her teethhard together afterwards.
She reached the hillside just above the corral. There were cattle downthere, moving uneasily about in the shadows. Of the horseman there wasof course no sign; just the corral, and a few restless cattle shutinside, and on the hilltops a soft, rose-violet glow, and in the skybeyond a blend of
purple and deep crimson to show where the sun hadbeen. Close beside her as she stood looking down a little, gray birdtwittered wistfully.
Billy Louise took a deep breath and rode on, angling slightly up thebluff, so that she could cross at the head of the gulch. It was veryquiet, very peaceful, and wildly beautiful, this jumble of hills anddeep-gashed canyons. But Billy Louise felt as though somethingprecious had died. She should have gone down and investigated andturned those cattle loose; that is, if she dared. Well, she dared; itwas not fear that held her to the upper slopes. She did not want toknow what brand they bore or whether an iron had seared fresh marks.
"Oh, God!" she said once aloud; and there was a prayer and a protest, acurse and a question all in those two words.
So trouble--trouble that sickened her very soul and choked her intodumbness and squeezed her heart so that the ache of it was agony--cameand rode with her through the brooding dusk of the canyons and over thebrighter hilltops.
Billy Louise did not remember anything much about that ride, exceptthat she was glad the way was long. Blue carried her steadily on andon and needed no guiding, and though Wolverine canyon was black dark inmost places, she liked it so.
John Pringle was standing by the gate waiting for her, which wasunusual, if Billy Louise had been normal enough to notice it. He cameforward and took Blue by the bridle when she dismounted, which wasstill more unusual, for Billy Louise always cared for her own horseboth from habit and preference.
"Yor mommie, she's sick," he announced stolidly. "She's worry youmaybe hurt yoreself. Yo better go, maybe."
Billy Louise did not answer, but ran up the path to the cabin. "Oh,has everything got to happen all at once?" she cried aloud, protestingagainst the implacableness of misfortune.
"Yor mommie's sick," Phoebe announced in a whisper. "She's crazy'cause you been so long. She's awful bad, I guess."
Billy Louise said nothing, but went in where her mother lay moaning,her face white and turned to the ceiling. Billy Louise herself hadpulled up her reserves of strength and cheerfulness, and the fingersshe laid on her mother's forehead were cool and steady.
"Poor old mommie! Is it that nasty lumbago again?" she askedcaressingly and did not permit the tiniest shade of anxiety to spoilthe reassurance of her presence. "I went farther than usual, andBlue's pretty tender, so I eased him along, and I'm fearfully late. Isuppose you've been having all kinds of disasters happening to me."She was passing her fingers soothingly over her mother's forehead whileshe explained, and she saw that her mother did not moan so much as whenshe came into the room.
"Of course I worried. I wish you wouldn't take them long rides. Oh, Iguess it's lumbago--mostly--but seems like it ain't, either. The painseems to be mostly in my side." She stirred restlessly and moanedagain.
"What's Phoebe been doing for it? You don't seem to have any fever,mommie--and that's a good thing. I'll go fix you one of those dandyspice poultices. Had any supper, mommie?"
"Oh, I couldn't eat. Phoebe made a hop poultice, but it's awful soppy."
"Well, never mind. Your dear daughter is on the job now. She'll haveyou all comfy in just about two minutes. Head ache, mum? All right.I'll just shake up your pilly and bring you such a dandy spice poulticeI expect you'll want to eat it!" Billy Louise's voice was soft and hada broody sweetness when she wished it so, that soothed more thanmedicine. Her mother's eyes closed wearily while the girl talked; themuscles of her face relaxed a little from their look of pain.
Billy Louise bent and laid her lips lightly on her mother's cheek."Poor old mommie! I'd have come home a-running if I'd known she wassick and had to have nasty, soppy stuff."
In the kitchen a very different Billy Louise measured spices, and askeda question now and then in a whisper, and breathed with a repressedunevenness which betrayed the strain she was under.
"Tell John to saddle up and go for the doctor, Phoebe, and don't letmommie know, whatever you do. This isn't her lumbago at all. I don'tknow what it is. I wonder if a hot turpentine cloth wouldn't be betterthan this? I've a good mind to try it; her eyes are glassy with fever,and her skin is cold as a fish. You tell John to hurry up. He canride Boxer. Tell him I want him to get a doctor here by to-morrow noonif he has to kill his horse doing it."
"Is she that bad?" Phoebe's black eyes glistened with consternation."She's groaned all day and shook her head like this all time."
"Oh, stop looking like that! No wonder she's sick, if you've stoodover her with that kind of a face on you. You look as if someone weredead in the house!"
"I'm skeered of sick folks. Honest, it gives me shivers."
"Well, keep out then. Make some fresh tea, Phoebe--or no, make somegood, strong coffee. I'll need it, if I'm up all night. Make itstrong, Phoebe. Hurry, and--" She stopped short and ran into thebedroom, called there by her mother's cry of pain.
That night took its toll of Billy Louise and left a seared place in hermemory. It was a night of snapping fire in the cook-stove that hotwater might be always ready; of tireless struggle with the pain thatcame and tortured, retired sullenly from Billy Louise's stubbornfighting with poultices and turpentine cloths and every homely remedyshe had ever heard of, and came again just when she thought she had wonthe fight.
There was no time to give thought to the trouble that had ridden homewith her, though its presence was like a black shadow behind her whileshe worked and went to and fro between bedroom and kitchen, and foughtthat tearing pain.
She met the dawn hollow-eyed and so tired she could not worry very muchabout anything. Her mother slept uneasily to prove that the battle hadnot gone altogether against the girl who had fought the night through.She had her reward in full measure when the doctor came, in the heat ofnoon, and after terrible minutes of suspense for Billy Louise while hecounted pulse and took temperature and studied symptoms, told her thatshe had done well, and that she and her homely poultices had held backtragedy from that house.
Billy Louise lay down upon the couch out on the back porch and sleptheavily for three hours, while Phoebe and the doctor watched over hermother.
She woke with a start. She had been dreaming, and the dream had takenfrom her cheeks what little color her night vigil had left. She haddreamed that Ward was in danger, that men were hunting him for what hehad done at that corral. The corral seemed the center of a fightbetween Ward and the men. She dreamed that he came to her, and thatshe must hide him away and save him. But though she took him toMinervy's cave, which was secret enough for her purpose, yet she couldnot feel that he was safe, even there. There was something--somemenace.
Billy Louise went softly into the house, tiptoed to the door of hermother's room, and saw that she lay quiet, with her eyes closed.Beside the window the doctor sat with his spectacles far down towardthe end of his nose, reading a pale-green pamphlet that he must havebrought in his pocket. Phoebe was down by the creek, washing clothesin the shade of a willow-clump.
She went into her own room, still walking on her toes. In her trunkwas a blue plush box of the kind that is given to one at Christmas. Itwas faded, and the clasp was showing brassy at the edges. Sitting uponher bed with the box in her lap, Billy Louise pawed hastily in thejumble of keepsakes it held: an eagle's claw which she meant sometimeto have mounted for a brooch; three or four arrowheads of the shiny,black stuff which the Indians were said to have brought fromYellowstone Park, a knot of green ribbon which she had worn to a St.Patrick's Day dance in Boise; rattlesnake rattles of all sizes; severalfolded clippings--verses that had caught her fancy and had been putaway and forgotten; an amber bead she had found once. She turned thebox upside down in her lap and shook it. It must be there--the thingshe sought; the thing that had troubled her most in her dream; thething that was a menace while it existed. It was at the very bottom ofthe box, caught in a corner. She took it out with fingers thattrembled, crumpled it into a little ball so that she could not readwhat it said, straightened it immediately, and read it reluctantly fr
omthe beginning to the end where the last word was clipped short withhasty scissors. A paragraph cut from a newspaper, it was; yellow andfrayed from contact with other objects, telling of things--
Billy Louise bit her lips until they hurt, but she could not keep backthe tears that came hot and stinging while she read. She slid thelittle heap of odds and ends to the middle of the bed, crushed theclipping into her palm, and went out stealthily into the immaculatekitchen. As if she were being spied upon, she went cautiously to thestove, lifted a lid, and dropped the clipping in where the wood blazedthe brightest. She watched it flare and become nothing--not even apinch of ashes; the clipping was not very large. When it was gone, sheput the lid back and went tiptoeing to the door. Then she ran.
Phoebe was down by the creek, so Billy Louise went to the stable,through that and on beyond, still running. Farther down was a grassynook--on, beyond the road. She went there and hid behind the willows,where she could cry and no one be the wiser. But she could not cry theache out of her heart, nor the rebellion against the hurt that life hadgiven her. If she could only have burned memory when she burned thatclipping! She could still believe and be happy, if only she couldforget the things it said.
Phoebe called her, after a long while had passed. Billy Louise bathedher face in the cold water of the Wolverine, used her handkerchief fora towel, and went back to take up the duties life had laid upon her.The doctor's team was hitched to the light buggy he drove, and thedoctor was standing in the doorway with his square medicine-case in hishand, waiting to give her a few final directions before he left.
He was like so many doctors; he seemed to be afraid to tell the wholetruth about his patient. He stuck to evasive optimism and thenneutralized the reassurances he uttered by emphasizing the necessity ofbeing notified if Mrs. MacDonald showed any symptoms of another attack.
"Don't wait," he told Billy Louise gravely. "Send for me at once ifshe complains of that pain again, or appears--"
"But what is it?" Billy Louise would not be put off by any vagueness.
The doctor told Billy Louise in terms that carried no meaning whateverto her mind. She gathered merely that it was rather serious if itpersisted--whatever it was--and that she must not leave her mommie formany hours at a time, because she might have another attack at anytime. The doctor told her, however, in plain English that mommie waswell over this attack--whatever it was--and that she need only be keptquiet for a few days and given the medicine--whatever that was--that hehad left.
"It does seem as if everything is all muffled up in mystery!" shecomplained, when he drove away. "I can fight anything I can see, butwhen I've got to go blindfolded--" She brushed her fingers across hereyes and glanced hurriedly into the little looking-glass that hungbeside the door. "Yes, mommie, just a minute," she called cheerfully.
She ran into her own room, grabbed a can of talcum, and did not wait tosee whether she applied it evenly to her telltale eyelids, but dabbedat them on the way to her mother's room.
"Doctor says you're all right, mommie; only you mustn't go diggingpost-holes or shoveling hay for awhile."
"No, I guess not!" Her mother responded unconsciously to thestimulation of Billy Louise's tone. "I couldn't dig holes with ateaspoon, I'm that weak and useless. Did he say what it was, BillyLouise?" The sick are always so curious about their illnesses!
"Oh, your lumbago got to scrapping with your liver. I forget the namehe gave it, but it's nothing to worry about." Billy Louise hadimagination, remember.
"I guess he'd think it was something to worry about, if he had it," hermother retorted fretfully, but reassured nevertheless by the casualmanner of Billy Louise. "I believe I could eat a little mite of toastand drink some tea," she added tentatively.
"And an egg poached soft if you want it, mom. Phoebe just brought inthe eggs." Billy Louise went out humming unconcernedly under herbreath as if she had not a care beyond the proper toasting of the breadand brewing of the tea.
One need not go to war or voyage to the far corners of the earth tofind the stuff heroes are made of.
