The Forfeit

by Ridgwell Cullum

  CHAPTER XVI

  THE RANCHMAN

  The cool night breeze died out under the increasing heat of the earlysun. Away to the west gossamer melted upon the hillsides. Themountain tops stood out under their eternal snows, above the lowercloud belts. The summer dews on thirsty foliage dried up before theirmission was completed. But the wide prairie world stood up refreshedto withstand the day's heat yet to come.

  Elvine Masters was on the veranda of her new home gazing after thereceding figure of her husband, who had just left her to discuss withhis partner those vital things which they had touched upon at themoment of his arrival yesterday.

  Everywhere about her the busy life of the ranch was stirring. Insidethe house the maids were at work garnishing the home which Nan hadalready left spotless. The corrals, which stood out from the shelterof a wood bluff, were claiming attention from several cow-hands.Sounds reached her from the region of the bunkhouse, away to the right.Then at the barns, and other ranch buildings, the voices of men impliedthe work that was going forward in their region. Away in the distanceisolated horsemen were moving about in the apparently aimless fashionof all fence riders, while, dotted about, small bands of cattleproceeded leisurely with the endless task of endeavoring to satisfy thecraving of insatiable appetites.

  The woman's farewell smile had left her eyes cold as she surveyed thescene. There was no sign of the expressed delight with which she hadfollowed Nan at her first inspection of her new home. The recollectionof it had even left her. Only a certain sense of the irony of it alloccupied her. That, and a painful wonder as to when the dread underwhich she labored would materialize into the shattering of every hopewithin her heart.

  Presently a "hand" appeared leading a saddle horse. He was ayoungster, a "barn-hand" who only worked around cattle in times ofpressure. But he possessed all the air of a cowpuncher, which heultimately purposed to become. Elvine watched his leisurely approach,and remembered the days when she would have saddled her own pony.

  The boy displayed no sign of deference. He stood before her chewing astraw with all the unconcern of his kind, his arm linked through thereins, and his hands thrust into the tops of his trousers. He wasprobably not more than thirteen years of age, but he possessed all theindependence bred in the calling of the cattle world.

  Elvine broke in upon his meditative curiosity as he surveyed the newmistress of the ranch.

  "What's your name, boy?" she demanded, in a tone of authority.

  But the youngster was not to be startled out of his leisurely regard.An amiable smile upon his unclean face was the preliminary result ofthe question.

  "Pete, ma'am," he replied after a moment. "An' around this bum lay-outI mostly reckon to have to do the stunts other folks don't notion."

  "Chore boy?"

  "Wal, mebbe that's how I figger on the pay roll. I allow I ain't alluscalled that way."

  The smile had left his eyes. He was talking with the frank candor ofone unused to being taken notice of. There was a deep curiosity in thelook with which he surveyed her. He had already been told that theboss's wife was a "swell piece," and his youthful mind was eager toverify the opinion.

  "How do they call you then?" Elvine took the reins and threw them backover the horse's head, and examined the cinching of the saddle with thetouch of experience.

  "Mostly a 'mule-headed bussock,' ma'am. Sometimes I allow they changeit to 'slap-sided hoboe,' or somethin' more fancy. But that's jest theignorant bums that ain't got no more learnin' than'll let 'em losetheir cents reg'lar at 'draw.' Ther's others who don't jest uselangwidge--only their feet. Then ther's the foreman, Lal Hobhouse.Mebbe you ain't acquainted yet--you bein' new around these parts. He'sa fine bully feller till he gits mad. Then he's mean, ma'am. Guesshe's most as mean as a skunk. He needs watching if you want to get ona racket. I don't guess he ever laffed in his life. Not even at acirkis. Yep. He's a holy terror when he's mad. He cowhided met'other day so I ain't sat right in a week. If he was to start in tofix you that way, why----"

  "I don't guess he'll cowhide me," said Elvine quickly, as she swungherself into the saddle. "I'm not likely go on a racket." Then sheleaned forward over the horn of the saddle, and smiled down into theunclean face gawking up at her. "How'd you fancy looking after myhorses and saddle and things? I mean just look after them for me, andnothing else?"

  The boy's eyes lit.

  "Bully!" he cried eagerly. "That way I wouldn't have to wash lousyclothes for the bunkhouse. Would I? Then they wouldn't be able tofire rocks at me when I sassed 'em. Bully!"

  "I'll speak to Lal Hobhouse about it."

  The hope died out of the boy's eyes.

  "You won't tell him wot I said, ma'am?" he pleaded. "You see, I wasjest settin' you wise, you bein' new around here. It ain't friendlynot to put folks wise, is it? He's a bully feller sure, ma'am, an' Iain't got a word agin him. I hain't reely. I wouldn't 'a' sed a wordif I'd tho't----"

  "Don't you worry, boy," Elvine cried, as she turned her horse about."I wouldn't give you away. I wouldn't give anybody away--now. Yousee, you never know how things of that sort can come back on you."

  The obvious relief in the boy's dirty face was more than sufficient tobring back the smile to Elvine's eyes, which, for the moment, hadbecome almost painfully serious. But as she rode away leaving the boygawking after her she quickly returned to the mood which had only beenbroken by the interlude.

  It was an interlude not easily forgotten, however. It had brought hometo her a fresh revelation. And it had come in the boy's final appealnot to give him away. A fierce sense of shame surged through herheart. It communicated itself to her eyes, and displayed itselffurther in the deep flush on her beautiful cheeks. Yet its reason musthave remained obscure to any observer.

  She rode on urging her pony to a gait which set him reaching at hisbit. She sat her saddle in a fashion which belonged solely to theprairie. The long stirrups and straight limb. The lightness, and thatindescribable something which suggests the single personality of horseand rider.

  She had no intention of returning to the ranch house until the noondaymeal, and meanwhile it was her purpose to explore something of the vastdomain which her husband controlled.

  It was curious that her purpose should lead her thus. For somehow allsense of delight in these possessions had passed from her. At one timethe thought of his thousands upon thousands of acres had filled herwith a world of desire, and pride that she was to share in them. Butnot now. With every furlong she covered her mood depressed, and hersense of dread increased. She felt as though she were surveying from agreat distance the details of the prize she had coveted, but thepossession of which was denied her. This--this was the wealth herhusband had bestowed upon her, she told herself bitterly, and somegreater power, some fatalistic power, purposed to snatch it from herbefore it reached her hands.

  She rode straight for the rising land of the foothills. It almostseemed as though she were drawn thither by some magnetic influence.She had formed no definite decision to travel that way. Perhaps it wasthe result of a subconscious realization of the monotony of the rollingtawny grass-land on the flat. The distant view of grazing cattlefailed to break it. The occasional station shack and corral. Thehills rose up in sharp contrast and great variety. There were thewoodland bluffs. There were little trickling streams. There was thatsense of the wild beyond. Perhaps it was all this. Or perhaps it wasthe call of a memory, which drew her beyond her power of resistance.

  She had long since left all beaten trails, and her way took her overthe wiry growth of seeding grass. She had arrived at the bank of anarrow reed-grown creek, which meandered placidly in the deeps of atrough between two waves of grass-land. It had been her intention tocross it, but the marshy nature of its bed deterred her. So she rodeon until the rising ground abruptly mounted and merged into the twogreat hills which formed the portals through which the stream had foundan outlet from its mountain prison to the freedom of the p
lains beyond.

  For a moment she paused at the edge of a woodland bluff which mountedthe slope to her right, and crowned the hillock with a thatch of darkgreen pine foliage. She gazed up with questioning eyes. And thefamiliarity of the tattered foliage left her without enthusiasm for itsbeauty. Then she gazed ahead along the course of the stream. And itwas obvious that she was in some doubt as to whether she should stillproceed.

  After a moment of deep consideration she lifted her reins and her horsemoved forward. Then, suddenly, he was still again, held with atightened rein. The soft but rapid plod of galloping hoofs came out ofthe distance. It was coming toward her from the hills, and anunaccountable but overwhelming desire to beat a hasty retreat tookpossession of her.

  But the action never matured. She was still facing the hills when ahorseman emerged from a narrow pathway which split up convergingbluffs. He was riding at a great pace, and was heading straight forthe bank of the river where she had paused.

  Elvine remained where she was. She made no effort either to proceed orretreat. Somehow curiosity had caught her up and left her with noother emotion. She regarded the stranger with searching eyes. At themoment his features were too indistinct to obtain an impression. Buthis general appearance left nothing to question. He was a cow-handwithout a doubt. His open shirt and loose waistcoat, his chapps, andthe plaited rawhide rope which hung from the horn of his saddle. Thesewere sufficient evidence. But for the rest, the wide flapping brim ofhis hat left her no estimate of the face beneath it.

  He came on. He even swerved his horse on one side as though to passher without pausing. Elvine's pony stirred restlessly in a desire tojoin the stranger. Then, in a flash, the whole position was changed.The man reined up his horse with a heavy "yank" which almost flung iton its haunches, and a pair of fierce black eyes were staring into thewoman's face with a light of startled recognition shining in theirdepths.

  "You!" he cried, without any other form of greeting. And into the wordhe flung a world of harsh meaning.

  Elvine's reply was a blank stare, which had in it not a fraction of therecognition he displayed. Not for an instant did her regard waver. Itwas full of a haughty displeasure at the nature of the greeting. Nordid she deign reply.

  The man sat for a moment as though incredulous. Then he thrust his hatback from his head, displaying the brutal ugliness of his face. Elvineobserved the coarse moustache, the lean cheeks, the low forehead andvicious eyes. The lips were hidden behind their curtain of hair.

  "Say, kind o' fergotten--ain't yer?" he demanded. Then the woman'sperfectly fitting riding suit seemed to attract his attention. "Gee,"he exclaimed, "wher' you get that dandy rig?" But even as he spoke achange in his expression came when he recognized the horse Elvine wasriding. Suddenly he raised one hand and smoothed the tangle ofmoustache with a downward gesture. It was a gesture implying completelack of comprehension. "Well, I'm darned!"

  "You'll be more than that if you don't pass on to your work, whateverthat may be."

  The coldness of the woman's tone matched the light in her dark eyes.Every ounce of her courage had been summoned to meet the situation.

  But the man displayed not the slightest regard for the threat. Theincredulity of his expression changed. And the change was subtle. Itwas perfectly apparent, however, to the woman. And she nerved herselffor what was to come. An evil smile grew in the piercing black eyes,as the man regarded the beauty which, with him, was a long stored upmemory.

  "Say, when d'you quit Orrville way?" he cried derisively. "Maybe youhadn't a heap o' use for it when your man, Bob, got shot up. Maybe youdidn't need to stop around after you got your hands on the dollars Iguess he left lying around. Say, it beats hell meetin' you this way."

  But Elvine was no longer laboring under the shock of the encounter.She had no longer any thought of the remoteness of the spot, or theobviously brutish man with whom she was confronted. She set aboutdealing with the situation with a desperate courage. "I don't know ifyou're mad, or only--drunk," she said, with icy sharpness. "But you'reon my husband's land, and I suppose you work for him. What's yourname? I need to know it so I can tell him of your insolence. JeffreyMasters is not the man to allow his wife to be insulted with impunityby one of his cattlemen. It will be my business to see to it that heis told--everything. You were riding that way." She pointed the wayshe had come. "I s'pose toward the ranch house. Let me pass!"

  She moved her horse as though to proceed. There was no sign of fear inher. No haste. At that moment her dignity was superb. Every word shehad spoken had been calculated, and the sting she had conveyed with herinformation had not been overdone. She looked for its effect, whichcame with a dramatic change in the man's whole demeanor. His evil facelost its smile, and, in a moment, he had bared his bristling head. Buteven as Elvine beheld these things she understood the curiousexpression which he seemed powerless to banish from his ferretty eyes.

  "You're Mrs. Masters, ma'am?" the fellow cried. "Say, ma'am, I'm justkind o' knocked all of a mush. I hadn't a notion. I truly hadn't.Guess I took you for a leddy I kind o' remember up Orrville way. An'the likeness is jest that o' two beans. I'm beat, ma'am, beat sore. Iwouldn't have offered you insult for a farm. I'm sorry. I'd heerd theboss's wife was around, but I didn't figger I----" Then he replacedhis hat, and made as though to pass on. But he remained where he was."Y'see, I was ridin' in about last night. We lost another bunch. On'yten cows and their calves, but I had to make a report."

  "Another raid?"

  In a moment the woman caught him up. And her attitude had taken on acalculated change.

  The man observed her interest, and took prompt advantage of it.

  "Yep. An' things are lookin' pretty bad. This gang's jest workin'how, an' when, an' wher' they fancy. If the boss 'ud on'y listen to mehe'd leave no stock around the outstations. It's devilish luck, ma'am,that's what it is--devilish."

  Elvine remained lost in thought, and the man's narrow eyes never leftthe profile she presented to him. When she turned to him again,however, his whole attitude was one of bland humility.

  "You can ride back to your station," she declared, with perfectauthority. "I'll convey your report. What's your name? You didn'tgive it me."

  "Sikkem. Sikkem Bruce. I'm out at Spruce Crossing, back ther' in thehills. It's jest a piece. Mebbe three miles, wher' this stream makesa joining with the Gophir Creek. Say----"

  "Well?" Elvine inquired as he paused.

  "You ain't makin' no complaint to the boss, ma'am? It was jest a darnfool mistake of mine. It surely was. I ken see it was. I can'tfigger how I mistook you fer the lady I was thinkin' of. Y'see, shewas no account anyway. She was jest one o' them vampire sorts who'dsell her soul fer a price, yep, and sell any man's life that way, too.Y'see, that's how I come to know her. She handed over a bunch o' guys,scallawags, sure, who didn't need nothin' better, fer the price o' tenthousand dollars. She corralled the information, an' drove herweak-livered man to do the lousy work. I tell you, ma'am, a woman whogits that low is pretty mean. You was sure right to figger on aninsult when I guessed you was that 'piece.' But I didn't mean it thatway, I sure didn't."

  The marble coldness of Elvine's face as she listened to the man's wordsgave no indication of any feeling behind it. At the end, however, sheforced a smile to her lips.

  "You can forget it," she said. Then she added deliberately: "I shallnot inform my husband."

  "Thank you, ma'am. Then I guess I'll get right on back--if you'llcarry in the report. Y'see, we're huntin' the trail. That-a-way I'llbe able to join up with the boys."

  "Yes."

  The man hesitated as though waiting for her to depart first, but as shemade no movement, and offered no further word, he was forced to theinitiative. With an astonishing deference, which, perhaps, was eventoo elaborate, he wheeled his horse about and rode off.

  Elvine watched him until he was swallowed up by the narrow pathwaybetween the bluffs, then
she turned back and rode slowly homeward.

  But the face which was now turned down the river was no longer the facewhich had confronted Sikkem Bruce. It was ghastly. It was the face ofa soul-tortured woman.

  "She was jest one of them vampire sorts who'd sell her soul fer aprice, yes, an' sell any man's life that way, too."

  The words, even the tones of the man's voice dinned in her brain, andshe knew that the legions of Fate had appeared upon a fresh horizon.