by Zane Grey
Not long after this amazing recital, when Laramie stood at his open door, gazing out into the moon-blanched patio, he heard quick steps on the flagstones. Hallie appeared, the moonlight shining on her hair.
“Laramie, come walk with me or sit under the cottonwoods. I want to talk to you.”
He joined her hesitatingly and thrilled anew as she slid a soft hand inside his arm.
“What did you think of Lonesome’s story?” she inquired.
“Wal, I reckoned it’d do.”
“Such an atrocious falsehood! … Laramie, my sister told me every detail of that terrible experience.”
“Dog-gone the kid!”
“Why did you sanction Lonesome’s lie?”
“Wal, we reckoned the truth would horrify yu.”
“It did. But the truth is always best. I know now. And I can adjust myself to the—the violence and bloodshed Mr. Strickland explained to me must prevail on the frontier for a while. I have been mawkish, chicken-hearted. But I will overcome it, because I love the West.”
“I’m shore glad to heah yu say thet last, Hallie,” Laramie said, feelingly.
She had led him down the courtyard, across the entrance, up the other side, and now they were mounting the stone steps under the cottonwoods. Laramie experienced a sinking of his heart. How impossible to understand this composed young woman!
“You know what Mr. Strickland proposes organizing, do you not?” she went on.
“Yes, an’ it’s a splendid idee. Yore father can retrieve his losses now. There won’t be any more wholesale rustlin’ on this range.”
“Still, he claims there will be need of such protective measures…. Are you aware that you have been chosen to lead this cattlemen’s association?”
“Me!—No. Strickland never hinted thet to me,” ejaculated Laramie, in vague alarm.
“Well. I’m glad to be the one to tell you.”
“Wal, of all things! I reckon I’m shore proud, Hallie…. But it’s out of the question. I cain’t accept.”
“Why not? It seems to me to be an exceptionally fine opportunity. You have been a rolling stone, so to speak. Surely some day you will settle down to—to one place. I asked Mr. Strickland if your life had been such that you could not ever be happy to accept something tame and colorless. He laughed and said it’d never be tame here for many years.”
“Wal, yu told me the truth was best—an’ the truth is I reckon I cain’t stand it heah no longer.”
“I divined that. But why?”
He did not have an answer ready. Meanwhile they had reached the oval surrounded by the boulders. Gleams of silver played in the murmuring pool below the spring. A soft rustle of leaves mingled with music of running water. She came quite close to him and looked up, her face clear in the moonlight, her eyes dark, inscrutable, strange. He saw her throat swell. He seemed forced to gaze at her, to impress her lovely face upon his memory forever.
She threw her scarf on the stone seat and stepped a little nearer to him. It was then Laramie caught his breath with a realization that he knew little of a woman, and that there was catastrophe in the presence of this one.
“You are going away from Spanish Peaks Ranch?” she asked.
“I told yu.”
“From me?”
“Wal, as yu’re heah—of course from yu.”
“Laramie, you have not apologized for your conduct the other day, down at the barn. Will you do so now?”
“No!”
“But, be reasonable. We can’t get anywhere—until you do.”
“I’m shore sorry, but I cain’t.”
“Where is all that Southern chivalry with which Lonesome and Ted always credited you? … You treated me rudely—brutally. Aren’t you sorry?”
“Shore, in a way, but not the way yu mean.”
“Not sorry you treated me as Mr. Arlidge once tried to—and failed? Not sorry you dragged me into that stall as if I were an Indian squaw—and crushed me in your arms—and kissed me blind—and deaf—and dumb? … Laramie Nelson, not sorry for that outrage?”
“So—help me Heaven—I’m not,” he choked out, driven mad by the sweet, strange, soft voice, the challenging, accusing eyes, the hand that went to his shoulder. “But I swear to yu it was no outrage.”
“Then explain why?”
“God help me, I was out of my haid…. I meant to kiss yu good-by…. But yu struck me…. An’ then I had to—to satisfy somethin’ queer an’ savage in me. But, Hallie, it was no insult—not in my heart. No matter what I said.”
“Still, Laramie, you have not explained your motive.”
“Wal, it was jest such love as no man ever before had for a woman,” he replied, simply, strength coming with his betrayal.
“Oh, so that was it? … Love? For me!” How wonderful she appeared then! He backed away from her until the stone seat stopped him. That pressing hand stole higher on his shoulder. Were his senses leaving him? Her face shone white as marble—her lips were parted—her eyelids fell heavily to lift again over gulfs of wondrous depths. “Larry—do you—did you ever know what I did?”
“When?” he whispered, his voice low.
“Why, that time…. You must indeed—have been blind, at least…. Suppose you—do the same—all over again … right here—now…. Then I will show you!”
THE END