by B. M. Bower
CHAPTER 8. Dorman Plays Cupid.
Dorman toiled up the steps, his straw hat perilously near to slippingdown his back, his face like a large, red beet, and his hands vainlytrying to reach around a baking-powder can which the Chinaman cook hadgiven him.
He marched straight to where Beatrice was lying in the hammock. If shehad been older, or younger, or a plain young woman, one might say thatBeatrice was sulking in the hammock, for she had not spoken anything but"yes" and "no" to her mother for an hour, and she had only spokenthose two words occasionally, when duty demanded it. For one thing,Sir Redmond was absent, and had been for two weeks, and Beatrice wasbeginning to miss him dreadfully. To beguile the time, she had ridden,every day, long miles into the hills. Three times she had met KeithCameron, also riding alone in the hills, and she had endeavored to amuseherself with him, after her own inimitable fashion, and with more orless success. The trouble was, that sometimes Keith seemed to be amusinghimself with her, which was not pleasing to a girl like Beatrice. At anyrate, he proved himself quite able to play the game of Give and Take,so that the conscience of Beatrice was at ease; no one could call herpastime a slaughter of the innocents, surely, when the fellow stood hisground like that. It was more a fencing-bout, and Beatrice enjoyed itvery much; she told herself that the reason she enjoyed talking withKeith was because he was not always getting hurt, like Sir Redmond--or,if he did, he kept his feelings to himself, and went boldly on withthe game. Item: Beatrice had reversed her decision that Keith wasvain, though she still felt tempted, at times, to resort to "makingfaces"--when she was worsted, that was.
To return to this particular day of sulking; Rex had cast a shoe, andlamed himself just enough to prevent her riding, and so Beatrice washaving a dull day of it in the house. Besides, her mother had justfinished talking to her for her good, which was enough to send an angelinto the sulks--and Beatrice lacked a good deal of being an angel.
Dorman laid his baking-powder can confidingly in his divinity's lap."Be'trice, I did get some grasshoppers; you said I couldn't. Andyou wouldn't go fishin', 'cause you didn't like to take Uncle Dick'smake-m'lieve flies, so I got some really ones, Be'trice, that'll wiggledere own self."
"Oh, dear me! It's too hot, Dorman."
"'Tisn't, Be'trice It's dest as cool--and by de brook it's awf-llycold. Come, Be'trice!" He pulled at the smart little pink ruffles on herskirt.
"I'm too sleepy, hon."
"You can sleep by de brook, Be'trice. I'll let you," he promisedgenerously, "'cept when I need anudder grasshopper; nen I'll wake youup."
"Wait till to-morrow. I don't believe the fish are hungry to-day. Don'ttear my skirt to pieces, Dorman!"
Dorman began to whine. He had never found his divinity in so unlovelya mood. "I want to go now! Dey are too hungry, Be'trice! Looey Sam isgoin' to fry my fishes for dinner, to s'prise auntie. Come, Be'trice!"
"Why don't you go with the child, Beatrice? You grow more selfish everyday." Mrs. Lansell could not endure selfishness--in others. "You know hewill not give us any peace until you do."
Dorman instantly proceeded to make good his grandmother's prophecy, andwept so that one could hear him a mile.
"Oh, dear me! Be still, Dorman--your auntie has a headache. Well, getyour rod, if you know where it is--which I doubt." Beatrice flouncedout of the hammock and got her hat, one of those floppy white things,fluffed with thin, white stuff, till they look like nothing so much asa wisp of cloud, with ribbons to moor it to her head and keep it fromsailing off to join its brothers in the sky.
Down by the creek, where the willows nodded to their own reflections inthe still places, it was cool and sweet scented, and Beatrice forgot hergrievances, and was not sorry she had come.
(It was at about this time that a tall young fellow, two miles down thecoulee, put away his field glass and went off to saddle his horse.)
"Don't run ahead so, Dorman," Beatrice cautioned. To her had been giventhe doubtful honor of carrying the baking-powder can of grasshoppers.Even divinities must make themselves useful to man.
"Why, Be'trice?" Dorman swished his rod in unpleasant proximity to hisdivinity's head.
"Because, honey"--Beatrice dodged--"you might step on a snake, arattlesnake, that would bite you."
"How would it bite, Be'trice?"
"With its teeth, of course; long, wicked teeth, with poison on them."
"I saw one when I was ridin' on a horse wis Uncle Dick. It kept windin'up till it was round, and it growled wis its tail, Be'trice. And UncleDick chased it, and nen it unwinded itself and creeped under a big rock.It didn't bite once--and I didn't see any teeth to it."
"Carry your rod still, Dorman. Are you trying to knock my hat off myhead? Rattlesnakes have teeth, hon, whether you saw them or not. I saw agreat, long one that day we thought you were lost. Mr. Cameron killed itwith his rope. I'm sure it had teeth."
"Did it growl, Be'trice? Tell me how it went."
"Like this, hon." Beatrice parted her lips ever so little, and asnake buzzed at Dorman's feet. He gave a yell of terror, and backedingloriously.
"You see, honey, if that had been really a snake, it would have bittenyou. Never mind, dear--it was only I."
Dorman was some time believing this astonishing statement. "How did yougrowl by my feet, Be'trice? Show me again."
Beatrice, who had learned some things at school which were not includedin the curriculum, repeated the performance, while Dorman watched herwith eyes and mouth at their widest. Like some older members of his sex,he was discovering new witcheries about his divinity every day.
"Well, Be'trice!" He gave a long gasp of ecstasy. "I don't see how canyou do it? Can't I do it, Be'trice?"
"I'm afraid not, honey--you'd have to learn. There was a queer Frenchgirl at school, who could do the strangest things, Dorman--like fairytales, almost. And she taught me to throw my voice different places, andmimic sounds, when we should have been at our lessons. Listen, hon.This is how a little lamb cries, when he is lost.... And this is what ahungry kittie says, when she is away up in a tree, and is afraid to comedown."
Dorman danced all around his divinity, and forgot about the fish--untilBeatrice found it in her heart to regret her rash revelation of hithertoundreamed-of powers of entertainment.
"Not another sound, Dorman," she declared at length, with the firmnessof despair. "No, I will not be a lost lamb another once. No, nor ahungry kittie, either--nor a snake, or anything. If you are not going tofish, I shall go straight back to the house."
Dorman sighed heavily, and permitted his divinity to fasten a smallgrasshopper to his hook.
"We'll go a bit farther, dear, down under those great trees. And youmust not speak a word, remember, or the fish will all run away."
When she had settled him in a likely place, and the rapt patience of theborn angler had folded him close, she disposed herself comfortably inthe thick grass, her back against a tree, and took up the shuttle offancy to weave a wonderful daydream, as beautiful, intangible as thelacy, summer clouds over her head.
A man rode quietly over the grass and stopped two rods away, that hemight fill his hungry eyes with the delicious loveliness of his Heart'sDesire.
"Got a bite yet?"
Dorman turned and wrinkled his nose, by way of welcome, and shook hishead vaguely, as though he might tell of several unimportant nibbles, ifit were worth the effort.
Beatrice sat a bit straighter, and dexterously whisked some pink rufflesdown over two distracting ankles, and hoped Keith had not taken noticeof them. He had, though; trust a man for that!
Keith dismounted, dropped the reins to the ground, and came and laidhimself down in the grass beside his Heart's Desire, and Beatricenoticed how tall he was, and slim and strong.
"How did you know we were here?" she wanted to know, with liftedeyebrows.
Keith wondered if there was a welcome behind that sweet, indifferentface. He never could be sure of anything in Beatrice's face, because itnever was alike twice, it seemed to him--and if it spoke
welcome fora second, the next there was only raillery, or something equallyunsatisfying.
"I saw you from the trail," he answered promptly, evidently not thinkingit wise to mention the fieldglass. And then: "Is Dick at home?" Notthat he wanted Dick--but a fellow, even when he is in the last stages oflove, feels need of an excuse sometimes.
"No--we women are alone to-day. There isn't a man on the place, exceptLooey Sam, and he doesn't count."
Dorman squirmed around till he could look at the two, and his eyebrowswere tied in a knot. "I wish, Be'trice, you wouldn't talk, 'less youwhisper. De fishes won't bite a bit."
"All right, honey--we won't."
Dorman turned back to his fishing with a long breath of relief. Hisdivinity never broke a promise, if she could help it.
If Dorman Hayes had been Cupid himself, he could not have hit upon amore impish arrangement than that. To place a girl like Beatrice besidea fellow like Keith--a fellow who is tall, and browned, and extremelygood-looking, and who has hazel eyes with a laugh in them always--afellow, moreover, who is very much in love and very much in earnestabout it--and condemn him to silence, or to whispers!
Keith took advantage of the edict, and moved closer, so that he couldwhisper in comfort--and be nearer his Heart's Desire. He lay with hishead propped upon his hand, and his elbow digging into the sod andgetting grass-stains on his shirt sleeve, for the day was too warm for acoat. Beatrice, looking down at him, observed that his forearm, betweenhis glove and wrist-band, was as white and smooth as her own. It ischaracteristic of a cowboy to have a face brown as an Indian, and handsgirlishly white and soft.
"I haven't had a glimpse of you for a week--not since I met you down bythe river. Where have you been?" he whispered.
"Here. Rex went lame, and Dick wouldn't let me ride any other horse,since that day Goldie bolted--and so the hills have called in vain. I'vestayed at home and made quantities of Duchesse lace--I almost finisheda love of a center piece--and mama thinks I have reformed. But Rex isbetter, and tomorrow I'm going somewhere."
"Better help me hunt some horses that have been running down Lost Canyonway. I'm going to look for them to-morrow," Keith suggested, as calmlyas was compatible with his eagerness and his method of speech. I doubtif any man can whisper things to a girl he loves, and do it calmly. Iknow Keith's heart was pounding.
"I shall probably ride in the opposite direction," Beatrice told himwickedly. She wondered if he thought she would run at his beck.
"I never saw you in this dress before," Keith murmured, his eyescaressing.
"No? You may never again," she said. "I have so many things to wear out,you know."
"I like it," he declared, as emphatically as he could, and whisper. "Itis just the color of your cheeks, after the wind has been kissing them awhile."
"Fancy a cowboy saying pretty things like that!"
Beatrice's cheeks did not wait for the wind to kiss them pink.
"Ya-as, only fawncy, ye knaw." His eyes were daringly mocking.
"For shame, Mr. Cameron! Sir Redmond would not mimic your speech."
"Good reason why; he couldn't, not if he tried a thousand years."
Beatrice knew this was the truth, so she fell back upon dignity.
"We will not discuss that subject, I think."
"I don't want to, anyway. I know another subject a million times moreinteresting than Sir Redmond."
"Indeed!" Beatrice's eyebrows were at their highest. "And what is it,then?"
"You!" Keith caught her hand; his eyes compelled her.
"I think," said Beatrice, drawing her hand away, "we will not discussthat subject, either."
"Why?" Keith's eyes continued to woo.
"Because."
It occurred to Beatrice that an unsophisticated girl might easily thinkKeith in earnest, with that look in his eyes.
Dorman, scowling at them over his shoulder, unconsciously did hisdivinity a service. Beatrice pursed her lips in a way that drove Keithnearly wild, and took up the weapon of silence.
"You said you women are alone--where is milord?" Keith began again,after two minutes of lying there watching her.
"Sir Redmond is in Helena, on business. He's been making arrangements tolease a lot of land."
"Ah-h!" Keith snapped a twig off a dead willow.
"We look for him home to-day, and Dick drove in to meet the train."
"So the Pool has gone to leasing land?" The laugh had gone out ofKeith's eyes; they were clear and keen.
"Yes--the plan is to lease the Pine Ridge country, and fence it. Isuppose you know where that is."
"I ought to," Keith said quietly. "It's funny Dick never mentioned it."
"It isn't Dick's idea," Beatrice told him. "It was Sir Redmond's. Dickis rather angry, I think, and came near quarreling with Sir Redmondabout it. But English capital controls the Pool, you know, and SirRedmond controls the English capital, so he can adopt whatever policyhe chooses. The way he explained the thing to me, it seems a splendidplan--don't you think so?"
"Yes." Keith's tone was not quite what he meant it to be; he did notintend it to be ironical, as it was. "It's a snap for the Pool, allright. It gives them a cinch on the best of the range, and all thewater. I didn't give milord credit for such business sagacity."
Beatrice leaned over that she might read his eyes, but Keith turnedhis face away. In the shock of what he had just learned, he was, at themoment, not the lover; he was the small cattleman who is being forcedout of the business by the octopus of combined capital. It was not lessbitter that the woman he loved was one of the tentacles reaching out tocrush him. And they could do it; they--the whole affair resolved itselfinto a very simple scheme, to Keith. The gauntlet had been throwndown--because of this girl beside him. It was not so much businessacumen as it was the antagonism of a rival that had prompted the move.Keith squared his shoulders, and mentally took up the gauntlet. He mightlose in the range fight, but he would win the girl, if it were in thepower of love to do it.
"Why that tone? I hope it isn't--will it inconvenience you?"
"Oh, no. No, not at all. No--" Keith seemed to forget that asuperabundance of negatives breeds suspicion of sincerity.
"I'm afraid that means that it will. And I'm sure Sir Redmond nevermeant--"
"I believe that kid has got a bite at last," Keith interrupted, gettingup. "Let me take hold, there, Dorman; you'll be in the creek yourself ina second." He landed a four-inch fish, carefully rebaited the hook, castthe line into a promising eddy, gave the rod over to Dorman, and wentback to Beatrice, who had been watching him with troubled eyes.
"Mr. Cameron, if I had known--" Beatrice was good-hearted, if she wasfond of playing with a man's heart.
"I hope you're not letting that business worry you, Miss Lansell. Youremind me of a painting I saw once in Boston. It was called June."
"But this is August, so I don't apply. Isn't there some way you--"
"Did you hear about that train-robbery up the line last week?" Keithsettled himself luxuriously upon his back, with his hands clasped underhis head, and his hat tipped down over his eyes--but not enoughto prevent him from watching his Heart's Desire. And in his eyeslaughter--and something sweeter--lurked. If Sir Redmond had wealth tofight with, Keith's weapon was far and away more dangerous, for it wasthe irresistible love of a masterful man--the love that sweeps obstaclesaway like straws.
"I am not interested in train-robberies," Beatrice told him, her eyesstill clouded with trouble. "I want to talk about this lease."
"They got one fellow the next day, and another got rattled and gavehimself up; but the leader of the gang, one of Montana's pet outlaws,is still ranging somewhere in the hills. You want to be careful aboutriding off alone; you ought to let some one--me, for instance--go alongto look after you."
"Pshaw!" said his Heart's Desire, smiling reluctantly. "I'm not afraid.Do you suppose, if Sir Redmond had known--"
"Those fellows made quite a haul--almost enough to lease the wholecountry, if they wanted to. Some
thing over fifty thousand dollars--and astrong box full of sand, that the messenger was going to fool them with.He did, all right; but they weren't so slow. They hustled around and gotthe money, and he lost his sand into the bargain."
"Was that meant for a pun?" Beatrice blinked her big eyes at him. "Ifyou're quite through with the train-robbers, perhaps you will tell mehow--"
"I'm glad old Mother Nature didn't give every woman an odd dimple besidethe mouth," Keith observed, reaching for her hat, and running a ribboncaressingly through his fingers.
"Why?" Beatrice smoothed the dimple complacently with her finger-tips.
"Why? Oh, it would get kind of monotonous, wouldn't it?"
"This from a man known chiefly for his pretty speeches!" Beatrice'slaugh had a faint tinge of chagrin.
"Wouldn't pretty speeches get monotonous, too?" Keith's eyes werelaughing at her.
"Yours wouldn't," she retorted, spitefully, and immediately bit her lipand hoped he would not consider that a bid for more pretty speeches.
"Be'trice, dis hopper is awf-lly wilted!" came a sepulchral whisper fromDorman.
Keith sighed, and went and baited the hook again. When he returned toBeatrice, his mood had changed.
"I want you to promise--"
"I never make promises of any sort, Mr. Cameron." Beatrice hadfallen back upon her airy tone, which was her strongest weapon ofdefense--unless one except her liquid-air smile.
"I wasn't thinking of asking much," Keith went on coolly. "I only wantedto ask you not to worry about that leasing business."
"Are you worrying about it, Mr. Cameron?"
"That isn't the point. No, I can't say I expect to lose sleep over it. Ihope you will dismiss anything I may have said from your mind."
"But I don't understand. I feel that you blame Sir Redmond, when I'msure he--"
"I did not say I blamed anybody. I think we'll not discuss it."
"Yes, I think we shall. You'll tell me all about it, if I want to know."Beatrice adopted her coaxing tone, which never had failed her.
"Oh, no!" Keith laughed a little. "A girl can't always have her own wayjust because she wants it, even if she--"
"I've got a fish, Mr. Cam'ron!" Dorman squealed, and Keith was obligedto devote another five minutes to diplomacy.
"I think you have fished long enough, honey," Beatrice told Dormandecidedly. "It's nearly dinner time, and Looey Sam won't have time tofry your fish if you don't hurry home. Shall I tell Dick you wished tosee him, Mr. Cameron?"
"It's nothing important, so I won't trouble you," Keith replied, ina tone that matched hers for cool courtesy. "I'll see him to-morrow,probably." He helped Dorman reel in his line, cut a willow-wand andstrung the three fish upon it by the gills, washed his hands leisurelyin the creek, and dried them on his handkerchief, just as if nothingbothered him in the slightest degree. Then he went over and smoothedRedcloud's mane and pulled a wisp of forelock from under the brow-band,and commanded him to shake hands, which the horse did promptly.
"I want to shake hands wis your pony, too," Dorman cried, and droppedpole and fish heedlessly into the grass.
"All right, kid."
Dorman went up gravely and clasped Redcloud's raised fetlock solemnly,while the tall cow-puncher smiled down at him.
"Kiss him, Redcloud," he said softly; and then, when the horse's nosewas thrust in his face: "No, not me--kiss the kid." He lifted the childup in his arms, and when Redcloud touched his soft nose to Dorman'scheek and lifted his lip for a dainty, toothless nibble, Dorman wasspeechless with fright and rapture thrillingly combined.
"Now run home with your fish; it lacks only two hours and forty minutesto dinner time, and it will take at least twenty minutes for the fish tofry--so you see you'll have to hike."
Beatrice flushed and looked at him sharply, but Keith was getting intothe saddle and did not appear to remember she was there. The fingersthat were tying her hat-ribbons under her chin fumbled awkwardly andtrembled. Beatrice would have given a good deal at that moment to knowjust what Keith Cameron was thinking; and she was in a blind rage withherself to think that it mattered to her what he thought.
When he lifted his hat she only nodded curtly. She mimicked every beastand bird she could think of on the way home, to wipe him and his horsefrom the memory of Dorman, whose capacity for telling things best leftuntold was simply marvelous.
It is saying much for Beatrice's powers of entertainment that Dormanquite forgot to say anything about Mr. Cameron and his pony, andchattered to his auntie and grandmama about kitties up in a tree, andlost lambs and sleepy birds, until he was tucked into bed that night.It was not until then that Beatrice felt justified in drawing a longbreath. Not that she cared whether any one knew of her meeting KeithCameron, only that her mother would instantly take alarm and preach toher about the wickedness of flirting; and Beatrice was not in the moodfor sermons.