by B. M. Bower
PART THREE
Weary was standing pensively by the door, debating with himself theadvisability of going boldly over and claiming the first waltz with theschoolma'am--and taking a chance on being refused--when Cal Emmett gavehim a vicious poke in the ribs by way of securing his attention.
"Do yuh see that bunch uh red loco over there by the organ?" he wantedto know. "That's Bert Rogers' cousin from Iowa."
Weary looked and wilted against the wall. "Oh, Mamma!" he gasped.
"Ain't she a peach? There'll be more than one pair uh hands go intothe air to-night. It's a good thing Len got the drop on me first orI'd be making seven kinds of a fool uh myself, chances is. Bert saysshe's bad medicine--a man-killer from away back.
"Say, she's giving us the bad-eye. Don't rubber like that, Weary; itain't good manners, and besides; the schoolma'am's getting fighty, ifI'm any judge."
Weary pulled himself together and tried to look away, but a pair oflong blue eyes with heavy white lids drew him hypnotically across theroom. He did not want to go; he did not mean to go, but the first heknew he was standing before her and she was smiling up at him just asshe used to do. And an evil spell seemed to fall upon Weary, so thathe thought one set of thoughts while his lips uttered sentences quiteapart from his wishes. He was telling her, for instance, that he wasglad to see her; and he was not glad. He was wishing the train whichbrought her to Montana had jumped the track and gone over a highcut-bank, somewhere.
She continued to smile up at him, and she called him Will and held outher hand. When, squirming inward protest, he took it, she laid herleft hand upon his and somehow made him feel as if he were in a trap.Her left hand was soft and plump and cool, and it was covered withrings that gave flashes and sparkles of light when she moved, and hernails were manicured to a degree not often seen in Dry Lake. She drewher fingers caressingly over his hand and spoke to him in _italics_, inthe way that had made many a man lose his head and say things extremelyfoolish. Her name was Myrtle Forsyth, as Weary had cause to remember.
"How strange to see you away out here," she murmured, and glanced towhere the musicians were beginning to play little preparatory strains."Have you forgotten how to _waltz_, Will? You used to dance so _well_!"
What could a man do after a hint as broad as that one? Weary held outhis arm meekly, while mentally he was gnashing his teeth, and mutteredsomething about her giving him a trial. And she slipped her hand underhis elbow with a proprietary air that was not lost upon a certainbrown-eyed young woman across the hall.
Weary had said some hard things to Myrtle Forsyth when he talked withher last, away back in Iowa; he had hoped to heaven he never would seeher again. Now, she observed that he had not lost his good looks ingrieving over her. She decided that he was even better looking; therewas an air of strength and a self poise that was very becoming to hisbroad shoulders and the six feet two inches of his height. Shethought, before the waltz was over, that she had made a mistake whenshe threw him over--a mistake which she ought to rectify at once.
Weary never knew how she managed it--in truth, he was not aware thatshe did it at all--but he seemed to dance a great many times with herof the long eyes and the bright auburn hair. The schoolma'am seemedalways to be at the farther end of the room, and she appeared to beenjoying herself very much and to dance incessantly.
Once he broke away from Miss Forsyth and went and asked Miss Satterlyfor the next waltz; but she opened her big eyes at him and assured himpolitely that she was engaged. He tried for a quadrille, a two-step, aschottische--even for a polka, which she knew he hated; but theschoolma'am was, apparently, the most engaged young woman in Dry Lakethat night.
So Weary owned himself beaten and went back to Miss Forsyth, who hadbeen watching and learning many things and making certain plans. Wearydanced with her once and took a fit of sulking, when he stood over bythe door and smoked cigarettes and watched moodily the whirlingcouples. Miss Forsyth drifted to other acquaintances, which wasnatural; what was not so natural, to Weary's mind, was to see hersitting out a quadrille with the schoolma'am.
That did not look good to Weary, and he came near going over anddemanding to know what they were talking about. He was ready to betthat Myrt Forsyte, with that smile, was up to some deviltry--and hewished he knew what. She reminded him somewhat of Glory when Glory wascloyed with peaceful living. He even told himself viciously that MyrtForsyth had hair the exact shade of Glory's, and it came near givinghim a dislike of the horse.
The conversation in the corner, after certain conventional subjects hadbeen exhausted, came to Miss Forsyth's desire something like this: Shesaid how she loved to waltz,--with the right partner, that is. Aproposthe right partner, she glanced slyly from the end of her long eyes andremarked:
"Will--Mr. Davidson--is an _ideal_ partner, don't you think? Areyou--but of _course_ you must be _acquainted_ with him, living in thesame _neighborhood_?" Her inflection made a question of thedeclaration.
"Certainly I am acquainted with Mr. Davidson," said Miss Satterly withjust the right shade of indifference. "He does dance very well, thoughthere are others I like better." That, of course, was a prevarication."You knew him before tonight?"
Miss Forsyth laughed that sort of laugh which may mean anything youlike. "_Knew_ him? Why, we were en--that is, we grew _up_ in the same_town_. I was so perfectly _amazed_ to find him _here_, poor fellow."
"Why poor fellow?" asked Miss Satterly, the direct. "Because you foundhim? or because he is here?"
The long eyes regarded her curiously. "Why, don't you _know_?Hasn't--hasn't it _followed_ him?"
"I don't know, I'm sure," said the schoolma'am, calmly facing thestare. "If you mean a dog, he doesn't own one, I believe. Cowboysdon't seem to take to dogs; they're afraid they might be mistaken forsheep-herders, perhaps--and that would be a disgrace."
Miss Forsyth leaned back and her eyes, half closed as they were, sawWeary away down by the door. "No, I didn't mean a _dog_. I'm _glad_if he has gotten _quite away_ from--he's such a _dear_ fellow! Even ifhe _did_--but I never believed it, you know. If only he had _trusted_me, and _stayed_ to face-- But he went without telling me _goodbye_,even, and we-- But he was _afraid_, you see--"
Miss Satterly also glanced across to where Weary stood gloomily alone,his hands thrust into his pockets. "I really can't imagine Mr.Davidson as being afraid," she remarked defensively.
"Oh, but you don't understand! Will is _physically_ brave--and he wasafraid I-- but I _believed_ in him, _always_--even when--" She brokeoff suddenly and became prettily diffident. "I wonder _why_ I amtalking to _you_ like this. But there is something so _sympathetic_ inyour very _atmosphere_--and seeing _him_ so _unexpectedly_ brought itall _back_--and it seemed as if I _must_ talk to _someone_, or I should_shriek_." (Myrtle Forsyth was often just upon the point of"shrieking") "And he was _so_ glad to see me--and when I _told_ him Inever _believed_ a _word_-- But you see, _leaving_ the way he _did_--"
"Well," said Miss Satterly rather unsympathetically, "and how did heleave, then?"
Miss Forsyth twisted her watch chain and hesitated. "I really ought_not_ to say a _word_--if you really don't _know_--what he _did_--"
"If it's to his discredit," said the schoolma'am, looking straight ather, "I certainly don't know. It must have been something awful,judging from your tone. Did he"--she spoke solemnly--"did he_mur-r_der ten people, old men and children, and throw their bodiesinto--a _well_?"
It is saying much for Miss Forsyth that she did not look asdisconcerted as she felt. She did, however, show a rather catty lookin her eyes, and her voice was tinged faintly with malice. "There are_other_ crimes--beside--_murder_," she reminded. "I won't tell _what_it was--but--but _Will_ found it necessary to _leave in the night_! Hedid not even come to tell _me_ goodbye, and I have--but now we have metby _chance_, and I could _explain_--and so," she smiled tremulously atthe schoolma'am, "I _know_ you can _understand_--and you will not_mention_ to _anyone_ what I have
told you. I'm too _impulsive_--and Ifelt _drawn_ to you, somehow. I--I would _die_ if I thought any _harm_could come to Will because of my _confiding_ in you. A woman," sheadded pensively, "has so _much_ to bear--and this has been very_hard_--because it was not a thing I could _talk over_--not even withmy own _mother_!" Miss Forsyth had the knack of saying very littlethat was definite, and implying a great deal. This method saved herthe unpleasantness of retraction, and had quite as deep an effect is ifshe came out plainly. She smiled confidingly down at the schoolma'amand went off to waltz with Bert Rogers, apparently quite satisfied withwhat she had accomplished.
Miss Satterly sat very still, scarce thinking consciously. She staredat Weary and tried to imagine him a fugitive from his native town, andin spite of herself wondered what it was he had done. It must besomething very bad, and she shrank from the thought. Then Cal Emmettcame up to ask her for a dance, and she went with him thankfully andtried to forget the things she had heard.
Weary, after dancing with every woman but the one he wanted, andfinding himself beside Myrtle Forsyth with a frequency that puzzledhim, felt an unutterable disgust for the whole thing. After a waltzquadrille, during which he seemed to get her out of his arms only tofind her swinging into them again, and smiling up at him in a way heknew of old, he made desperately for the door; snatched up the firstgray hat he came to--which happened to belong to Chip--and went outinto the dewy darkness.
It was half an hour before he could draw the hostler of the Dry Lakestable away from a crap game, and it was another half hour before hesucceeded in overcoming Glory's disinclination for a gallop over theprairie alone.
But it was two hours before Miss Forsythe gave over watching furtivelythe door, and it was daylight before Chip Emmett found a gray hat underthe water bench--a hat which he finally recognized as Weary's and soappropriated to his own use.