The Forfeit

by Ridgwell Cullum

  CHAPTER XII

  THE TEMPERING

  Bud was packing in his rooms at Aston's Hotel. It was late at night.Late as it was, however, he had only left Nan, engaged at a similaroccupation, less than half an hour ago. He had sat talking to her, andwatching her with eyes of deep concern while, with infinite care, shebestowed those beautiful gowns which mean so much in a woman's life.

  His visit to her had not been one of mere companionship. It had beeninspired by a sympathy he had no other means of displaying. He hadtalked to her; by every means in his power he had endeavored tointerest her in reminiscence of the week's doings. She listenedpatiently, almost submissively, for she understood the promptings ofhis endeavor. But she was too deeply plunged in her own discouragementto display real interest, and it had required every ounce of courageshe possessed to prevent herself falling to weeping.

  Nor was Bud at fault for a moment. He recognized the trouble lurkingin the sweet brown eyes. And with all his might he pretended not tosee. So, when his last effort to cheer had proved unavailing, he tookhis departure under the excuse of his own packing.

  He knew. Of course he knew. Had he not watched the progress of eventsthroughout the week? Had he not seen for himself how Jeff's fancy hadbeen caught? And she was very beautiful, this town-bred woman,beautiful with that healthy, downy complexion which Bud found did notfit with his idea of city "raised" women. He almost felt he hated her,yet he knew he had no right to his antagonism. Jeff was unpledged, hewas free. No woman had any claim on him. Not even Nan. Poor Nan. Hehad hoped to give her seven long days of unalloyed delight. He hadonly given her seven days of bitter disappointment and disillusion.

  He set about his packing with furious zest. In a moment, it seemed,his room was in a state of chaos. And all the while, as he bundledgarments together and flung them into his grips, his busy thought wenton in the only direction in which it seemed capable of moving just now.

  His mind had gone back to the days before their visit to Calthorpe. Heremembered the delighted anticipation which Nan had displayed. Herdisplays of happy affection for himself in the midst of her own greatlooking forward. The ravishing hours she had spent in choosingpatterns of material, and styles of gown. He remembered the brightsparkling eyes shining, it seemed to him, at all times. That wonderfullooking forward. Oh, the holiday of it had been nothing. There wasonly one thing, one thought, which had inspired the child. It wasJeff. It was a week that was to see honor done him, and she--she wasto join in honoring him. Jeff was the whole hub about which herhappiness revolved.

  He was pained. He was angry. And the vision of Elvine van Blooren'sdark beauty haunted him. He admitted it--her beauty. And for all hisdisquiet, his bitter feeling, he found it impossible to blame the man.

  Yes, for all his exasperation. For all he regarded Jeff as a "foolman," he was just enough to remember that Nan was his own littledaughter, a pretty prairie girl, with nothing of the showy attractionof this city woman. Then Jeff's attitude toward her. It had neverbeen more than the sheerest friendliness. He reflected bitterly, even,that they might have been simply brother and sister. While the dreamof his life was some day to be able to pour out the wealth he wasstoring up into the out-stretched palms of their children.

  Well, it was a dream. And now it had come tumbling about his feet, andit almost looked to him as if poor little Nan's heart was to be buriedbeneath the debris.

  He flung his evening suit, which Nan had so much admired, into thegaping jaws of a large leather grip, with a disregard that more thanillustrated his feelings. Then he strove to close the grip tucking inthe projecting oddments of silk-lined cloth without the leastconsideration for their well-being. He felt he never wanted to wearsuch things again, never wanted even to see them. He and Nan belongedto the prairie, not to a city. That was good enough for them. Whatwas the use----?

  But his reflections were interrupted by the abrupt appearance of Jeffhimself. Bud looked up as the door was unceremoniously thrust open,and his regard was quite unshaken by the depths of his feelings. Itdisplayed a mute question, however.

  Jeff began at once.

  "I saw the light through your transom, Bud, so I just came right in."

  Jeff was a shade paler than usual. There was a look of some doubt inhis blue eyes. And his manner hinted at a decision taken. A decisionthat had not been arrived at without some considerable exercise of mind.

  Slowly, as he regarded him, all Bud's bitterness subsided. If Nan werehis daughter, this man was almost a son to him.

  "Say, old friend, I'm--I'm not going back home with you to-morrow,"Jeff went on. He stirred with a suggestion of nervousness, and thenflung himself upon the old man's littered-up bed. "I just can't, an'that's a fact. I want to stop around here for a while. I got to."

  He paused as though awaiting an answer, but none was forthcoming. Onlywas there that steady regard from the man beyond the still open grip.

  Bud was not thinking of the announcement. Jeff was certainly a"good-looker," and he was beginning to understand something of theattraction he must have for a woman like Elvine van Blooren. He wasslim and muscular, with a keen face of decision and strength. Then,was he not on the rising wave which must ever appeal to the maturermind of a widow, however young? His disappointment rose again andthreatened to find expression. But he thrust it aside and struggled toremember only his regard for the man.

  "D'you mind?" Jeff's question came nervously.

  Did he mind? It was a weak question. Coming from Jeff it soundedfoolish. Bud smiled, and his quiet sense of humor saved him fromhimself.

  "Why, if you feel that way I don't guess you need worry a thing, Jeff."Then he added: "Guess Nan an' me'll get right along home. But it don'tneed to cut no ice. I take it you're askin' me to fix things right atthe Obars till you get around. That so?"

  Jeff nodded. He was feeling that he was doing something mean, evenbrutal. He knew that what he contemplated must result in the bitterestdisappointment to his old friend. He had well enough known throughouttheir partnership Bud's yearning desire that he should marry Nan.Well, such a course was unthinkable now. Somehow it had never seemedreally possible. He was troubled, grievously troubled, but he wasdetermined now to act in the only honest way. He was determined thatBud should know the truth--at all costs.

  "I'd be thankful to you, Bud."

  "You don't need to say a word. It's fixed."

  For some moments no other word was spoken. There was awkwardness. Butit was with Jeff alone. He feared the result of what he must tell.

  "You're--packing?" he said presently.

  Bud sat himself heavily into a rocker.

  "Yep. Lestways I don't guess Nan 'ud call it that way." He raked hiscurly iron-gray hair with his strong fingers, and gazed ruefully at thechaos.

  "Maybe I can help some."

  Bud shook his head, and his smile was good.

  "Guess one darn fool's enough playin' this game. When're you comingalong to--home?"

  "Maybe a week."

  The reply was prompt.

  "An'--you'll bring her along with you?"

  The eyes of the two men met. Each was reading the other like an openbook.

  Jeff shook his head. Somehow there was nothing absurd to him in Bud'ssuggestion. There was nothing startling even in the probing of hissecret with so much directness.

  "I haven't asked her--yet."

  Then it was that the big heart of the friend, who was almost a father,made itself apparent.

  "But you're goin' to, Jeff. An' she's goin' to take you. Say, Jeff,she's one lucky woman."

  In a moment the tide of the younger man's feelings was set flowing. Ina moment the egoism of the lover made a generous nature forget all elsebut the passion that absorbed him. In a moment the thought that thisman was Nan's father, and that the dearest wish of his life was thathe, Jeff, should marry his daughter, was forgotten.

  "Lucky? But you got it wrong, Bud," Jeff cried
, sitting erect, hisface flushed with the passionate stirring of Ills strong heart. "It'sI who'll be lucky, if she don't turn me down. Man, I'm not worth thedust on her shoes. I'm not fit to lackey for her. Nor--nor is anyother feller. Say, Bud," he went on, leaning impressively forward, hiseyes shining with his passion, "I'm just crazy to death for her.And--and I can't just help it. I'd go through hell's flames for her,man, I'd----"

  "Say, boy, don't worry that-a-way. Jest marry her instead," Bud brokein with his gentlest smile. "You're all sorts of a boy, Jeff, and Idon't figger you got call to talk about the dust of any woman's shoes.But I guess ther's times when it's good fer a man to feel he ain't asbig as he's told. Anyways, you get right ahead, and leave me to theObars. I ain't goin' to fail you now, any more than any other time."Then he rumpled his stubbly hair again, and it was an action thatsuggested heavy thought. "Say," he went on, a moment later, his eyeslooking squarely into the face of the other, "we're hittin' the trailgood an' early to-morrow. Guess you best let me say 'good-bye' to Nanfor you. That so?"

  Jeff nodded. He understood. And somehow the bigness of this man madehim almost despise himself.

  "Then I guess I'll get right on with my--packin'."

  * * * * * *

  They were standing on the stoop of Aston's Hotel. In front of them thebroad Avenue opened out with its central walk, between an aisle ofwide-spreading maple trees bathed in the early morning sun. A springwagon was already moving away, piled up with baggage. The saddlehorses were ready, held by one of the hotel servants. Nan, in herriding costume, was waiting while her father exchanged a few partingwords with the hotel manager.

  "Guess you're right. It's been a darn good week this year. The bestin my memory. I'd say the Conference was a heap better attended, an'the weather's been just great. We got through a deal o' legislation,too. Guess things are goin' to hum, with the Obars at the head of 'emthis year. Our big play is to be dealin' with rustlers. We got a hellof a piece o' leeway to make up. Four years ago we guessed we'd got'em fixed where we wanted 'em. But they hatched out since like a broodo' wolf cubs. So long."

  "Mr. Masters is stopping on for a while," the manager observed, withthat intimate touch which he always practiced with his more influentialcustomers of the cattle world.

  "Why, yes." Bud's eyes were watching Nan as she mounted her pony,carefully held by a solicitous barn-hand. Under other circumstancesthe man's attention would have afforded him amusement. Just now he wasregretting the manager's remark. "Y'see, ther's a deal to fix. Seein'he's president this year, why, I guess it's up to him to kep his ladlebusy in the soup."

  He moved off the stoop and took his horse from the waiting man. Heswung himself into the saddle with an agility which belied his years.

  He waved one great hand in response to the manager's deferential bow,and turned his horse away. In a moment Bud and Nan were riding side byside down the wide Avenue.

  It was a long time before either attempted to break the silence betweenthem. They had even reached the outskirts of the city before Nanbroached the subject from which her father admittedly shrank.

  "I'm glad Jeff didn't get up to see us off," she said imply. Then shelaughed softly. "Y'see, Daddy, there's times for most things; and'good-byes' in the early morning are a bit like cold baths in winter."

  Bud eyed his daughter with a quick sidelong glance, and then continuedhis survey of the trail ahead as it lifted over a gentle grassy slope.They were passing the last houses of the town, and ahead lay the tawnyfields which made the country one of the greatest pastures in the world.

  "Ther'd been no sort o' sense his turning out around sun-up to see usfolks off. It ain't goin' to be weeks before he gets back home."

  "No."

  Nan's smile remained, and Bud, for all his avoidance of it, was awarethat was so. It was a smile that cut him to the heart, and yet he wassimple man enough to find relief in it.

  "There'll be a deal for him to fix before he gets back home," Nan wenton.

  She spoke in the earnest fashion of deep consideration. Bud glancedround at her again, steadying his powerful horse to permit her pony topush its nose ahead. Her manner had startled him. But he refrainedfrom the folly of replying. He had that in his mind to impart thethought of which nearly broke his heart. But it must be told, and byhim. And a passionate desire to lighten the blow made him watchdesperately for the best opportunity.

  But he was dealing with a nature stronger, deeper, more honest andclear-sighted than he knew. He was dealing with a woman who couldsacrifice all to the well-being and happiness of those she loved. WithNan self held a particularly subservient place to every other emotion.And when it did manage to obtrude itself it was her way to fight herbattle alone, at a time when no prying eyes were there to witness hersufferings. To the daylight she presented a pair of sweet brownsmiling eyes, and lips as full, and ripe, and firm as though no shadowof doubt and unhappiness had ever crossed her path.

  She went on rapidly, speaking as though the matter under considerationwere fully accepted between them.

  "It's queer how things fix themselves the way you don't guess," shesaid reflectively. "Just one week, and they're changed around in a waythat makes you wonder if you aren't dreaming. It's sort of like theIndian summer, isn't it? There's the beautiful light of the full sunon colors that set you 'most crazy with delight. Pictures that makeyou feel Providence is just the biggest painter ever set brush tocanvas. Then, with a shiver of wind from the north, down the leavestumble, and right on top of 'em comes the snow, and then you're movingaround in a sort of crystal fairy web, and wonder when you'll wake up.A week ago Jeff didn't even know her; she wasn't in the world so far ashe knew. Now he's going to marry her."

  Nan stated the fact without a tremor of voice, without a shadow ofhesitation. The sunny smile was entirely without a cloud. Her fatherstared down at her from his superior height with eyes wide withastonishment and something of alarm.

  "Say, did Jeff tell you?" he asked sharply.

  Nan shook her head.

  "Then how in hell d'you know it all? Say----"

  "How d'you know anything that affects you here, Daddy?" the girlretorted, gently indicating her soft rounded bosom with one gauntletedhand.

  Then her smile broke out again, and the man's trouble was furtherincreased.

  "Y'see, I don't mind saying things to you. You're my Daddy and Mommaall rolled into one. And there's sure a heap of you for two," shesmiled up at him. "Maybe you don't always say all the things you feel,but it don't keep me guessing long. You'd a heap of terr'ble, terr'blethings on your mind to say to me on this ride. Oh, and they weighedheavy. Your poor worried face had lost all its smile, and your eyesjust looked as if you'd been lying awake nights an' nights, an' you'dseen every sort of nightmare ever thought of in the world of dreams.It made me kind of sorry, and I just couldn't wait for you to make thatbig talk you figgered on."

  Bud was gazing far out ahead at the brilliant sky-line where the crestsof grass-land cut the line in perfect undulations. Nan's gently drawnsigh was like the stab of a knife in his heart. His feelings at thatmoment were too deep for words. And so the girl went on in a voicethat struck fresh chords of sympathy in the soul of the man whoidolized her.

  "It seems to me, my Daddy, that we often think things that a great bigSomeone don't guess are good for us to think. We sort of set up hopeswe've no right to. An' when we do, why, we've got to be handed ourlessons. Sometimes the lesson is pretty tough, sometimes I don't guessit's a deal worse than a pin-prick. Anyway, lessons aren't joyousthings at best, not even pin-pricks. Well, if folks are right they'lljust learn their lessons all they can without kicking, and if they geta hunch on, why, I don't figger it's likely to make 'em harder. I'vebeen learning my lesson a whole week now, and, yes, I've got it right.Oh, I've had to work. It hasn't been easy. And somehow, my Daddy, allthese lovely, lovely gowns, and the thought of the generous hands thatgave them to me, hav
e helped me to learn quicker, and--better."

  She paused again. Their horses were ambling leisurely along over thesandy trail. They moved together, side by side, in a closeness ofcompanionship which perhaps symbolized that of their riders.

  "I jest don't know what to say, Nan. I surely don't," Bud lumbered atlast with a half-bewildered drawing together of his heavy brows. "Itdon't seem I ken even think right--about it."

  Nan gazed up into his big troubled face with the frank eyes that lookedwholly untroubled.

  "Don't try, my Daddy. Guess I've done all that's necessary that way.Maybe I know just how you're feeling, because I know how I'm feeling.God's been good to me all my years. He's given me a Daddy who's thebest in the world. A Daddy who's taught me by his own example how tobe strong and fight the little battles I guess it's meant for us tofight. Oh, I won't say it hasn't hurt," she went on, with a catch inher voice. "You see, I loved Jeff. I love him now, and I'll go righton loving him to the end. And it's because I love him I want to helphim now--and always. You won't think me a fool girl, my Daddy, willyou, but--but--I won't hate Elvine van Blooren. I'm--I'm going to tryso hard to like her, and--and anyway, with all my might, I'm going tohelp them both. D'you guess Jeff would let me get his house readyfor--his wife?"

  The father's reply came with a violence which he calculated shouldconceal an emotion which his manhood forbade, but which only helped toreveal it the more surely to the clear eyes of the girl at his side.

  "Hell take the bunch--the whole of 'em!" he cried fiercely. Then headded weakly: "You're nigh breakin' my heart all to pieces."

  But Nan's smile suddenly became radiant, as she turned her brown eyesaway from the spectacle of her father's trouble to the distant horizonahead.

  She shook her head.

  "No, my Daddy. I allow it feels that way just now. I've felt thatway, too. But it's just God's tempering. And when it's through, why Iguess our hearts'll be made of good metal, strong and steady to do thework He'd have us do. And that's just all we can ask, isn't it?"