CHAPTER V
CROSS PURPOSES
The only thing Kate could have noticed was a slight darkening of theroom; something momentarily obscured the sunlight streaming through theplatform doorway; someone sauntered into the room itself, but Kate wassigning the letter and gave the entrance no thought. Still she couldnot shake off the consciousness of somebody walking up close to thedesk where she stood and sitting down on one of the counter stools.She refused to look up, even though she felt that eyes were on her.
A natural impulse of defiance at the uninvited scrutiny possessed her.And being resolved she would not admit she was conscious of it, sheturned from the desk and looking straight toward the glass doorconnecting with the dining-room, and behind the end of the counter, shewalked briskly past the intruding presence.
As she did so, Kate somehow felt with every step that she could not getout of the room unchallenged. But even then she was riding to a rudesurprise for she had reached the door without incident when she heardtwo words: "Slow, Kate." She had already laid her hand on the knob andshe turned it with indignation. The wretched door refused to open! Itwas Belle's afternoon off and she had locked the door.
Even then a collected girl would not have surrendered to the situation.But Kate never could be collected at just the right time. She wasusually quite collected when it made no difference whether she wascollected or not. All she now did was to look blankly around. A mansat at the counter, a man she had never seen before. He wasdeliberately lifting a broad horseman's hat from a rather round, highforehead and disclosing a head of inoffensive-looking sandy hair, verymuch sun-and-wind bleached. His smooth face, his ears and neck andopen throat, were colored by a strictly uniform pigment--tinctured bymany mountain winds into a reddish brown and burnt by many mountainsuns into a seemingly immutable bronze. The face was long with anample nose, a peaceful-looking mouth and unruffled gray eyes. The manwas very like and yet unlike many of the mountain men she had seen.She remembered afterward that this was her first impression: at thatmoment she was not analyzing it: "Where are you going?" he asked, asshe stood looking at him.
Her resentment at the rudeness rose. Could a prophetic spirit havewarned Kate that this was to be only the first of more than one seriousencounter with the eyes steadily regarding her, her astonishment andindignation might have been restrained. As it was, forgetting her ownposition and descending to Western brusqueness, she retorted icily: "Ican't see how that can possibly interest you."
If she hoped that a frigid tone and utterance might abash her intrudingquestioner, they failed. He spoke again with surprisingly evenimpertinence--quite as if she were as friendly as he. "You're wrong,"he said. "I'm mightily interested. I want some coffee and you don'tact to me as if you meant to come back."
It was undignified and improper for her to bandy words with a heckler,but Kate had already breathed too much of the freedom of the mountainsto resist a second retort, and said, almost without thinking--andcertainly in a very positive manner: "I am not coming back."
"Give me a cup of coffee before you go."
"There is no service here this afternoon."
"Beg your pardon. There will be one service here this afternoon. Youwill serve me." His emphasis was slight, but unmistakable. She was sofussed she turned to the door and grasped the knob the second time.Her persecutor raised his left hand firmly. "You can't get out there,"he said.
"Why can't I?" demanded Kate indignantly.
"Because you can't open the door." She stood mute at his assurance."Come," he continued, "give me some coffee, like a good girl."
What should she do? She did not speak the question, but weighed itpretty rapidly in her mind. What manner of man had she to deal with?If not actually threatening he was extremely domineering. While shehesitated he regarded her calmly.
But there was one way to do as he demanded and to punish him as well.Of the two coffee urns kept filled in readiness for the rush in servinga trainload of passengers, only one was now heated. Kate stepped tothe urns, murmuring as if to herself: "I know nothing about these."
"I don't either," he said. From the nearer urn Kate drew a cup ofcoffee; it was very cold--but she pushed it with a jug of cream and abowl of sugar, toward him.
"A teaspoon, please?" Kate's excitement had already heightened hercolor. She looked very much alive as she added, impatiently, a spoonto the equipment--expecting then to be able to get out of the room. Itseemed as if this ought to big easy; it was not. Her tormentorprofessed to have had no dinner and wanted a sandwich. The sandwicheswere rebelliously hunted up--a plateful was supplied. If he wassurprised at the prodigality he made no comment, but at intervals sometantalizing word from him entangled her in another exchange; and ateach encounter of wits, just enough fear tempered her resentment tomake her irresolute.
She was malicious enough to observe in silence the unobtrusivepantomime by which the enemy tried to coax a semblance of warmth intohis cold coffee. He had begun by pouring cream into it, but the creamrefused to assimilate and only made the mixture look less inviting.
"I'm glad I met you today," he said, while she was getting her breath."Looks lonesome around here. Not much doing at the mines, is there?"
"Not a great deal," she answered coldly.
"How about Barb Doubleday--is he up at the mines, or here?"
He was indifferently lifting matches from the stand at his hand,striking them and burning them patiently against the side of his cup ofcoffee. Like a flash came to Kate with his question, the thought thatthis disagreeable person must be the court officer. He looked up ather now as if waiting for an answer: "Why do you ask?" she countered.
"Mostly because I'd like to hear you say something."
"Anything, I suppose," she suggested ironically.
"That's not far from it," was the reply. "Also, I want to see Barb."
"What about?" she asked, borrowing his own assurance. It was time, shethought, for defensive strategy.
"Just a little business matter." It was long, very long afterward thatKate learned, and fully realized, the significance of the indifferentlyspoken words; when she did, she wondered that a man's manner could socompletely mask all that lay behind them.
"He isn't hiring any men," she ventured, adapting a set phrase she hadoften heard Belle use.
"And in spite of my looks," he returned, "I'm not hunting a job--for awonder."
But now that Kate wanted to hear more he took his turn at reticence."Where are you from?" she asked as unconcernedly as she could.
"Medicine Bend."
"From the marshal's office?" It was foolish of her to ask. She fairlyblurted out the words. He looked at her for the first time keenly--andjust the change in his expression, undefinable but unmistakable, almostfrightened her to death.
"I was in the marshal's office yesterday," he answered, picking up asandwich evasively. Kate was no longer doubtful. This was the man toserve the dreaded, summons. An instant of panic seized her.Fortunately her persecutor was regarding his stubborn coffee as hestirred it. Her heart, which had stopped, started with a thump. Herthoughts cleared. Instinct, self-preservation, asserted itself. Shethought hard and fast. The first step was to temporize.
He looked up in time to see the blood sweeping back into her cheeks;and almost spoiled the first really good breath she was drawing. Inhis lean, bronzed hands he clasped his cup of coffee as if trying toput a degree of heat into it: "What would be the extra charge for ashot at that hot tank?" he asked, directing his glance first at theother tank, then at Kate's burning face.
With all his confidence, he must have been surprised at the revulsionof manner that greeted him. Kate recovered her poise--her coldnessvanished, a smile broke through her reserve and her confused regret waspromptly expressed: "Did I give you coffee out of the cold tank? Howstupid!"
"And never in my life," said her queer customer, as if continuing herwords, "did I do anything mean to you."
"Oh, yes, you did
," objected Kate, coupling nervous haste with thedeclaration as she tried to take the cold cup from between his hands.The ease with which she assumed the role of a lunch-counter waitressastonished her.
"What did I do?" he drawled, resisting her attempt to make amends.
"You said I couldn't go out that door," she answered, refusing to bedenied the cup.
"I was hoping if you stayed a few minutes, you wouldn't want to." Amoment earlier she would have been indignant. Now she reconciledherself to necessity. She was, indeed, wildly hoping she might be ableto coax him not to serve any paper. And she had to repress an absurdlaugh at the thought as she set a fresh and steaming cup before him.
While he made ready to drink it she leaned with assured indifferenceagainst the buffet shelf behind her. She spread her left arm and handinnocently along its edge as she had seen waitresses do--and with herright hand, toyed with the loose collar of her crepe blouse--chattingthe while like a perfectly good waitress with her suspect. The funnypart seemed to her that he took it all with entire seriousness, hardlylaughing; only a suspicion of a smile, playing at times around hiseyes, relieved the somberness of his lean face. His parted lips showedregular teeth when he spoke, and gave a not unpleasant expression tohis mouth. His eyes were as inoffensive as a mountain lake.
But there remained something stubborn in his dry manner and at timesher heart misgave her as to the hope of dissuading him from hispurpose. Trying to form some idea of how to act, she studied him withanxiety. All she could actually reach as a conclusion was that hemight be troublesome to dissuade.
Yet with every moment she was the more determined to keep him fromcarrying out his mission and the more resolved to make him pay for hisWestern manners. All this was running through her head while thecoffee was being sipped. Unhappily, her father was where she could notpossibly reach him with a warning until Belle should reappear on thescene. She tendered her now tractable guest a second cup of coffee.It was accepted; he talked on, asking many questions, which wereanswered more or less to his satisfaction. Not that his inquiries wereimpertinent; they were chiefly silly, Kate thought. He seemed mostintent on establishing a friendly footing with a lunch-counterattendant.
When his third cup had been drunk and payment tendered for it, and forfive or six sandwiches, Kate decided her time to escape had arrived.She refused to accept his money: "No," she persisted, "I will not takea thing for your lunch. Positively not. Oh, you may leave your dollaron the counter, if you like--it will never go into the register."
"Why not?"
"I've told you."
"Say it again."
"You were very patient over my blunder in giving you cold coffee."
"To tell you the truth," he remarked with candor, "it didn't look to mealtogether like a blunder."
"Oh, it was," she insisted shamelessly; but she did not feel at allsure he believed her. "And I won't take your money. I want you--" hereyes fell the least bit with her repentant words--"to have a betterimpression of this counter than cold coffee would give you. We'retrying so hard to build up a business."
"Golly!" observed her calm guest. "I thought a few minutes ago youwere trying to wreck one."
"You Medicine Bend men always make fun of this valley," Kate complained.
"I don't really belong in Medicine Bend," was his return.
"Where do you belong?"
"In the Falling Wall."
"Oh! that awful place?"
"Why knock the Falling Wall?"
"I never heard any good of it. No matter anyway; you may put up yourmoney. And some time when I am up in your country," she addedjestingly, "you can give _me_ a cup of cold coffee."
"We'll say nothing more about the coffee," he declared in bluntfashion. "Just you come!" He yielded so honestly to deceit that Katewas half ashamed at imposing on him.
"Tell me," he went on, spinning his silver dollar in leisurely fashionon the smooth counter, "how am I going to get up to the mines todayafter I look around here for Barb--where can I get a horse?"
Kate reflected a moment. "I can get you _some_ kind of a horse," shesaid slowly. "But it would take you forever to get there onhorseback--the trail runs around by the river. The train will get youthere first. It goes up at four o'clock."
She knew she said it all blandly, though conscious of her duplicity.It was not exactly falsehood that she spoke--but it was meant tomislead. The man was regarding her steadily with eyes that seemed toKate not in the least double-dealing.
"What am I going to do till four o'clock?" he asked, making withoutdiscussion her subtle suggestion his own.
She lifted her eyebrows disclaimingly--even shrugged her shoulders:"What are you going to do?" he persisted. She was ready. She lookedlongingly out of the window. The sun blazed over the desert in a riotof gold.
"It's my day off," she observed, adding just a suspicion of discontentand uncertainty to her words. She fingered her tie, too; then droppedher eyes; and added, "I thought I might take a ride."
He started: "Couldn't get two horses, could you?"
"Two?" echoed Kate, looking surprised.
He rose: "I'll turn up two if I have to steal 'em," he declared,reaching for his hat.
"That would be too much trouble for one little ride," Kate saidironically. "I'll see what I can do, first. But," she added, basely,"if you want to be sure of catching the train, I should advise you tostay right here. It backs down and doesn't stay but a minute--justlong enough to hook on to the empties."
Her warning had no effect. It was not meant to have any. She knew ifhe got to the mines and learned that her father was at the Junction hewould return in no time to serve him. He was decently restrained now,but he swallowed her bait, hook and all: "Where do you think you canfind horses?" he asked.
"Where I work."
"Where do you work?"
"Sometimes here and sometimes up at Mr. Doubleday's cottage. Thebarn-boy gets up a horse for me any time."
He raised an unexpected difficulty: "I wouldn't feel just right, today,riding a horse of Barb Doubleday's," he said doubtfully.
The words only confirmed her suspicions. Her fears rose but her witsdid not desert her: "Ride mine," she suggested. "I've got my ownhorse, of course."
He drew a breath: "All I can say is, if you ever come over my way, I'llshow you as good a time as I know how to."
She put up her hand: "Wait till you see how you like _my_ good time."
He was quick to come back. "I'll agree right now to like anything youoffer--and I don't care a hang what it is, either."
Looking straight at him she asked a question. Its emphasis lay in herquiet tone: "Will you stand to that?" He looked at her until she felthis eyes were going right through her: "I've got enemies," he saidslowly, and there was now more than a touch of hardness in his voice;"most men have. But the worst of 'em never claimed my word isn't good."
"Then," exclaimed Kate, hastening to escape the serious tone, "you tendcounter while I go and see about the horses."
"No," he objected, "that's a man's job. You tell me where to go and_I'll_ get the horses."
Kate was most firm: "If you're going to ride with _me_," she said, "youmust do my way. Take a woman's job for a few minutes and see how youlike it."
He regarded her with the simplicity of a child, but replied like acase-hardened cowboy: "I don't like a woman's job, of course. But I'mready to do any blamed thing you say."
"Do you suppose," Kate demanded with an air, "they would turn twohorses over to _you_ up at Doubleday's?"
She had put her foot in it: "I tell you," he protested, "I don't wantto ride a horse of Doubleday's. I'm up here to talk to Barb Doubleday.And nobody can say just how it's coming out. At the ranch they sworehe was at Sleepy Cat. I rode down there and they told me he was at theJunction, so I took the train over here. Now you tell me he's at themines--that's where I'll say what I've got to say. But I don't want totake any advantage. And I don't want to impose on his prope
rty rightsso much as a single hair. That's exactly what's between us."
Kate, established in treacherous ambush, felt qualms at his stern,clear code.
She tried to shut him off, but he was wrought up: "Barb swore to meonce he had nothing to do with it," he persisted obstinately. "All Ican say is, if a man fools me once it's his fault; if he fools metwice, it's mine."
"What about a woman?" asked Kate, trying hard to say one thing andthink another.
He opened his eyes: "I never thought much about that. A man can'tfight a woman," he returned reflectively. "And I've yet to see one Icould fool."
"What should you do," she asked, turning her back while shestraightened her hat in the buffet mirror, "if you ever met one thatfooled you?"
"No woman would ever take the trouble."
She laughed a little: "You never can tell."
"If a woman ever fooled me, she'd have to fool herself first--so she'dbe the loser."
"What a philosopher!"
"First and last, I've been called a good many names--some fullhard--but never a philosopher before."
Kate started for the front door: "Hold on a minute," he objected,"what's to do here while you're gone?"
"Serve coffee and sandwiches if anybody comes in. This time of daythere's never anybody comes in."
He turned on his stool: "How soon'll you be back?"
"In a few minutes."
"Get a good horse for yourself."
Kate gave him a parting shot: "Of course you think I can't ride."
It did not take her long to get up the hill. Breathless, sheencountered old Henry in the garden, asked him for the ponies andalmost ran into the house. Her father was asleep. There was no reasonto stir him up over a situation that she was resolved to handle andfelt she could handle. She got into her riding clothes in a trice, allthe time wondering whether she could hold her wild man in leash longenough to defeat him. Had he been more like anybody she had ever metand known, the problem would have been less confusing. But shedetermined to shut her eyes and win the fight if she could, and to thisend draft every resource. So she thought, at least, as she caught upher little revolver and, dropping it into the scabbard she had beltedabout her waist, set forth.
She rode back one of her own ponies and led the other. Her enemy hadgood ears for when she was half way to the eating-house he walked outon the platform and silently surveyed her approach. Kate watched himnarrowly and drew up before him to estimate the effect. She wasdisappointed, she had to confess, at his cool indifference, for shethought her riding rig unusually pretty. It had seemingly failed toimpress her queer Westerner. His eyes were all for the horses. "Cleanponies," he observed, taking the bridle rein from her hand as he lookedthe two over.
"I forgot to ask what kind of a saddle you like," she observedindifferently. He was scanning the horses and his eyes not being onher she got her first real good look at her antagonist--whether he wasto be her victim she was in somewhat anxious doubt.
Laramie Holds the Range Page 5