The Last Straw

by Harold Titus

  CHAPTER V

  THE COURTING

  Jane Hunter was in work up to her trim elbows. She had little time foranything else. Twice again Dick Hilton came to see her, riding a horsein the second visit, but his stays were not lengthy ... and notsatisfactory, because the girl had little thought for anything butranch affairs.

  For long hours she sat at the desk which she had placed in a bay windowthat commanded a superb view of far ridges and pored over records shehad found. She discovered a detailed diary of events for the past tenyears, a voluminous chronicle kept more for the sake of givingself-expression to the old colonel than for an efficient record, but itserved her well as a key to the fortunes of the property.

  From time to time she sent for one of her men and quizzed him rigidlyon some phase of the work with which he was particularly familiar,never satisfied until she had learned all that he could teach her.Every evening Hepburn sat with her and discussed ranch affairs atlength, Jane forcing him into argument to defend his statements.

  While with the girl Dad maintained his paternal, patronizing attitude,yet he was not content, as was evident from the moroseness which hedisplayed before the men. He had been stripped of initiative until hisauthority was reduced to executing orders; this, despite the fact thatJane depended on him for most of her information.

  Beck watched the foreman's attitude carefully. Hepburn was chagrined,yet dogged, as though staying on and accepting the situation fordefinite purpose. It had been decided after Jane had argued awayHepburn's objections that Beck was to have a free hand with the horses,gathering the saddle stock and getting it in shape for the summer'swork, breaking young horses, watching the mares and colts. This made itunnecessary for Beck to look to the older man for detailed orders anddelayed the clashes which were bound to come between them.

  Jane's approach to her responsibilities was considered admirable by themen, but it occasioned little comment. Their judgment of her was stillsuspended; that is, with the exception of Two-Bits. Her first look hadwon him without reservation.

  "She's smart!" he declared at frequent intervals. "She's the smartestgirl I've ever seen ... an' the loveliest!" The last with a drop in thevoice which provoked laughter.

  Once he said to Beck:

  "My gosh, Tommy, how'd you like to have wife like her?"

  The other smiled cryptically.

  "Now you're gettin' into a profound subject," he said. "It ain't wiseto pick out a wife like you'd pick out a horse. There ain't much canfool a man who knows horses when he looks one over careful-like, butthere's a lot about women that you can't know by lookin' 'em over andwatching 'em step."

  He was watching Jane "step" and though he still was the first to listenwhen others spoke of her qualities his manner toward her was the leastflattering of any.

  After she had ridden the sorrel twice, each time accompanied by Beck orHepburn she sent Two-Bits to saddle him.

  "What you doing with that horse?" Beck asked, looking up from the hoofof a colt which he pared gently to reveal some hidden infection.

  "She wants him to ride," the cowboy explained.

  "Goin' alone?"

  "Guess so."

  "Then take that saddle off and put it on the little pinto."

  "But she said to--"

  "Makes no difference. You take it off or I'll make you look like twobits, Mex!"

  On finding her order miscarried Jane demanded explanation.

  "Tommy, he told me," Two-Bits said, uneasily.

  "But I ordered the sorrel--"

  "And I told Two-Bits to give you this paint, ma'am," Beck said, thefoot of the colt still between his knees.

  "And why?"--with a show of spirit.

  "Because you ain't up to him yet and he ain't down to you. If somebodywas with you, it'd be different. You can't ride him alone, ma'am."

  She gave her head an indignant toss and was about to demand theexecution of her plan but he turned back to his work, talking gently tothe animal. Then with a grudgingly resigned sigh she walked toward thepinto, for there was something about Beck that precluded argument.

  Again she told him of a contemplated visit to the ranches further downthe creek.

  "Why, ma'am?" he asked.

  "There are many things to talk over, plans for the summer's work andthe like. Besides, I want to become acquainted."

  He smiled and said:

  "That last is fine, but I guess you'd better wait for the rest."

  "Wait? What for?"

  "Until you know, ma'am. You see, you've only been here a little while;you've learned a lot, but you don't know enough to talk business withanybody yet. It won't be good for you to go talking about something youdon't understand."

  "I think I am capable of judging that," she said bruskly. "I will go."

  But she did not. She had intended to go the next day but as she layawake that morning she told herself that he had been right, she did notknow enough about her affairs to discuss her relationships withneighbors intelligently. She still smarted from his frankness, but thehurt was leavened by a feeling that behind his presumption had beenthought of her own welfare.

  She tired quickly in the first days that she rode and once, remarkingon it, she drew this advice from Beck:

  "You'd do a lot better without corsets."

  Simply, bluntly, impersonally and with so much assurance that she couldnot even reply. His observation had smacked of no disagreeableintimacy. She had told him that she tired; he had given her his idea ofthe cause.

  She took off her corsets.

  A day of cold rain came on; at noon the downpour abated for a time andJane asked Hepburn to ride down the creek with her to look over landthat was to be cleared and irrigated.

  "Have you got a slicker, ma'am?" Beck asked when she requested that ahorse be saddled.

  She had none.

  "There ain't an extra one on the place," he said, "so I guess you'dbetter not go."

  "But the rain is over. Anyhow, what hurt will a wetting do?"

  "I don't guess the rain's all over," he said. "And to get wet and coldain't a good thing for anybody; it'd be a mighty bad thing for you.You're a city woman; you can't do these things yet."

  An exasperating sense of inferiority came over her, bringing a helplesssort of rage. This man was not even her foreman and yet he brought herup short, time after time. She started to tell him so, but changed hermind. Also, she changed her plans for the day.

  He was not rough, not obtrusive in any of this. Just frank and simple,and when she bridled under it all she saw that twinkle creep into hiseye, as though she were a child and her spirit amused him!

  But she did more than amuse. She could not see, she could not know;nights he roused from sleep and lay awake trying to fathom thesensations he experienced; days he rode without sufficient thought forthe work that was before him. At times he was impelled to be irritabletoward her and this because his stronger impulse was to be gentle!

  He did not want to care for this woman and he found himself caring inspite of himself! He rode to town and spent an evening with a waitressfrom the hotel, taking her to a picture show, paying her broadcompliments, seeing her pride rise because of his attentions, and herode home before daylight, disgusted with himself. His life was beingreshaped, his tastes, his desires. His caution against taking chanceswas being beaten down.

  She commenced to ride with him regularly and these rides grew longer asshe found her body becoming toughened and her endurance greater untilthey were together many hours each day, until, in fact, escorting herhad become Beck's job. The ostensible purpose of this was to learn thecountry and the manner of range work but though she did learn rapidlytheir talk was largely personal. Beck was not responsive and the morereserved he became the greater Jane's efforts to force him to talk ofhimself.

  These efforts netted her little and after a time she gave up,tentatively, and adopted other means of winning his confidence.

  Once she helped him gather a bunch of horses that had not been corraledfor season
s. The way led down a steep point and Jane was ahead, holdingup the bunch while Beck crowded them from behind. She took the descentwith a degree of hesitation for the going--so steep that she was forcedto clamp a hand behind her cantle to retain a seat--chilled her withfear. On the level she fanned the sorrel and kept ahead of the horsesuntil she could lead them safely into a corral.

  The gate closed, Jane looked at Beck with sparkling eyes, expecting aword of reward, but he only said:

  "You've got to keep goin' with horses. The country's all got to looklevel to you. You slowed up bustin' off that point."

  The rebuke hurt her ... and stimulated her ambition.

  He taught her to use a rifle and she brought down her first deer, ayearling buck, at long range.

  "I told you to hold just behind his shoulder; see where you hit," hesaid, indicating the wound, a hand's breadth too far back.

  She shot with his revolver and he told her that she would never learnto use the weapon. She bade him teach her the rudiments of roping andhe decried the woman movements of arms and body.

  In all this he was quick to criticise, niggardly of praise; ready toteach, reluctant to grant progress.

  She was resentful but her resentment was no match for herdetermination. Now and then his rebukes whipped flushes to her cheeksand more than once she left him with tears standing in her eyes, onlyto tell herself aloud that she _would_ make him acknowledge heraccomplishments....

  Once, riding on alone after Jane had turned back toward the ranch Beckencountered Sam McKee. The man had dismounted and was recinching whenTom passed him. He looked up with that baleful expression, as though hewas impelled to do the HC rider great harm and held back only by hiscowardice. When Tom had passed McKee mounted and before he started onhis way he turned to shout over his shoulder:

  "Chaperone!"

  In it he put all that contempt which small, timid boys put into theirshouted taunts.

  Beck was not angered but that gave him something to think about.

  Another time as, on his roan, he led the sorrel toward the gate to thehouseyard he saw Hepburn smiling at him with scornful humour and whenthe foreman saw that Beck had seen he said:

  "A regular chaperone, ain't you?"

  Tom did not reply though it roiled him. He thought about the remark atlength but the thing which interested him was that Hepburn had used thesame word that McKee had used.... Was that, he asked himself, merechance?

  They had ridden far to the eastward one afternoon and returning longafter dark Jane made a meal herself and they ate together at her table.Beck was noticeably restrained and when finished hastened to leave.

  "Can't you sit and talk with me a while?" she asked.

  "I could, ma'am, but is it necessary?"

  "Not necessary to the business, perhaps, but it might mean a pleasantevening for me."

  He gave her steady gaze for steady gaze and then said:

  "Anybody would think you were courtin' me, ma'am."

  She laughed easily, yet her gaze wavered. She asked:

  "And what if I should be?"

  This disconcerted him but he replied:

  "It's likely I'd quit."

  "I'm ... wholly distasteful to you, then?"

  "If I was to say yes, it'd hurt your feelings, needless. So I won't. Idon't mind tellin' you, though, that the country is calling me yourchaperone."

  "And does what people say worry you?"

  "Not when they talk about something that I'm responsible for. I didn'thire out as a ... a companion, ma'am."

  She stepped closer, hands behind her and said:

  "The first time you talked to me at any length you had a great deal tosay about respect. No one had ever talked to me as you did. I took itbecause it was true ... and I respected you.

  "Since that time I have been trying to be worthy of the respect of youmen; of yours particularly because you are the only one with whom Ihave talked so frankly about myself. But at every turn you repulse me,drive me back. Nothing that I do seems to be pleasing to you. You pickon me, Tom Beck! Why do you do it?"

  He eyed her calculatingly.

  "What would you think if I told you that it was because I don't likeyou?"

  "I would think it was not the truth."

  He flushed and this time his eyes fell from hers.

  "I would think just that, but I might be wrong." She breathed rapidly,one hand on a gold locket that was at her throat. "I might think thatyou fear that becoming my friend would be taking a chance ... but Imight not want to think that.

  "You were the first man who ever dared tell me just how little I haveamounted to. You are the first individual that ever made me feelashamed of myself. You did those things; you opened my eyes, you showedme what real achievement is.

  "Now I'm fighting for a place. I have won one thing: my self respect.Now I'm going to win another: the respect of other people and if I canwin their respect I can win their friendship.

  "I may be overconfident. Time will prove that. But there is one thing Iwant, Tom Beck, and that is your friendship. Before I get through, andif I succeed, you are going to be glad to be my ... friend!"

  There was challenge in her tone, which, withal its assurance, was sweetand gentle, almost appealing; and that combination of qualitiesindicated that her words did not express her whole thought. It steeledhim and with that mocking twinkle again he said:

  "You seem quite sure, ma'am."

  "As sure as I have ever been of anything in my life!"

  But her assurance did not compare with her desire, for when he had goneshe was seized with the fear that she had said too much, had gone toofar. And that which she had boasted would be hers was to Jane Hunter aprecious possession.