by Harold Titus
CHAPTER IV
THE CHAMPION
Beck was still busy with the horses when Jane appeared, bareheaded andclad in a riding habit. He had separated the unbroken stock from thehorses that had been turned loose for the winter and was playing withthese last, overcoming the shyness that months on the range hadengendered.
As she stopped at the corral he walked toward her, studying her face.There was no trace of confusion or embarrassment and for all he coulddiscern she might have had her mind on horses only since earlyforenoon. That puzzled him because, though he was far from certain, hehad felt that the scene which he had interrupted had caused herdistress. Still, he reminded himself, this was not the type of woman heknew. She was completely strange to him; good margin, that, for comingto mistaken conclusions.
"These, ma'am, are the gentle horses," he explained. "I cut 'em out foryou. They're some of the best you've got."
"They're rough, of course," she remarked after eyeing the animals amoment and he looked at her sharply because her manner was of one whois familiar with horses, "but nothing here looks particularly good. Arethese all you brought in?"
"I cut the rest into the little corral. There's some good ones there,but they ain't gentle."
They walked toward the other enclosure and at their approach the coltsgave evidence of alarm.
"Now that brown horse's been ridden some--"
"But what about the sorrel?" she broke in as a shapely head with awhite star between the eyes and a flowing forelock tossed back overdelicate ears rose above the mass of backs.
"Him, ma'am? He's probably the best colt you own; got the makin's of afine horse, but he's a bad actor."
Just then the crowding of the horses broke into a milling and thesorrel came into full view. A beautiful beast with white stockingsbehind, deep chest, high withers, short, straight back.
"He's a beauty!" she declared. "He has bone and leg. He's gaunt now;not enough belly, but I suppose that's because he's been on the range.I like that square hipped sort when you can get its strength withoutsacrificing looks."
"You're acquainted with horses somewhat, I take it."
"I've ridden some; hunted a little. Can you bring him out?"
Beck entered the corral and roped the horse. For an instant heresisted, head flung back and feet securely planted; then he came outof the bunch on a trot.
"He knows what a rope is. It don't take an intelligent creature, man orbeast, long to learn."
The horse stood watching him suspiciously, ready to run if given theopportunity.
"Where shall we try him?" Jane asked.
"In the big corral," he replied and led the sorrel through the gate.
The colt, closely snubbed, stood trembling while the blanket was puton; then flinched and breathed loudly as the weight of the saddle wasgently placed on his back. He stepped about and kicked as the cinch wasdrawn tight and resisted a long time the efforts of the man to slip abit between his teeth.
Jane stood by watching, her attention divided between admiration of theman and the horse. The former was assured, gentle, positive in everymove; the latter alarmed, rebellious but recognized the fact that hewas under control.
"Now, if you'll shorten the stirrups I'll try him," she said.
"_You_'ll try him, ma'am? Why, this horse ain't been ridden threetimes in his life. He'll buck an' buck hard."
"So much more reason why I should try him. We spoke of reputations lastnight; they can only be formed at the cost of knocks. There are manythings I must try to do out here; there are bound to be some that Ican't even try but this is not one."
"But you--"
"Must I order you to let me ride him?"
There was no lightness in the question; she meant business, Beckrealized. And her bruskness delighted him for when he turned to givethe cinch one more hitch--his only reply to her question--he wassmiling merrily.
It was not much of a ride as western riding goes. Beck blindfolded thesorrel with the black silk scarf he wore about his neck, helped Jane tomount, saw that she had both stirrups, took the rope cautiously fromthe trembling bronco's neck and, at her nod, drew off the blind.
For a moment the great colt stood there as if bewildered. Then, with agrunt and a bound, he bowed his back, hung his head and pitched.
"Keep his head up! His head!" warned Beck, watching with intenseinterest. "Watch him...."
The horse went straight forward for a half dozen jumps. Erect in thesaddle, sitting too far back, trusting too much to her stirrups, Janerode.
The violence of the lunging jerked her head unmercifully but she hadher balance.... Until he sunfished, with a wrenching movement thatheaved her forward against the fork, dangerously near a fall.
"Grab it all!" called Beck, not remembering that his injunction to hangon was as Greek to her. "He--Look out!"
With a vicious fling of his whole body the sorrel swapped ends and ashe came down, head toward the man, the girl shot into the air, turnedcompletely over and struck full on her back.
Beck ran to her, heedless of the horse, which circled at a gallop. Shelay very still with her eyes closed; a smudge of dirt was on her whitecheek. He knelt beside her.
"Are you hurt, ma'am?" he asked, and when she did not reply raised herhead to his knee. Her body was surprisingly light, surprisingly firm,as he held it with an arm beneath her shoulders. He was fumbling withher collar to open it, knuckles against her soft throat, when sheopened her eyes and gasped and coughed. She tried to speak but for amoment continued to choke; then smiled and said weakly:
"I didn't ... ride him."
"But you made a fine try!" he said with more enthusiasm than she hadseen him display. "And I sure _am_ glad you ain't hurt bad!"
She laughed feebly and he felt her breath on his cheek, for their faceswere very close; he felt his heart leap, too, and helped her up, sayingwords of which he was not conscious.
"I can stand alone," she said after he had steadied her an interval andreluctantly he took his arm from about her. "I'd like to try him again."
"But you're not going to, not to-day. I'm giving you that order,"--withresolution. "I wouldn't want you to be hurt, ma'am. I--"
He checked himself, realizing that he had become very earnest and thatshe was looking straight into his eyes, reading the concern that wasthere.
* * * * *
There was talk of that ride in the bunkhouse when the men came in.Jimmy Oliver had seen from a distance and asked Beck for the story. Herelated the incident rather lightly and ended:
"Tried to keep her off him, but only got orders to take orders. If shebreaks her neck tryin' some such tricks, I wouldn't be surprised."
"She appears to have sand, though," Oliver commented, as though he weremaking a concession.
Others had opinions to pass, briefly, to the point. Those men were notgiven to accepting readily a stranger and this stranger, being a woman,came to them under an added handicap. Where a man, inept and showingthe same courage, might have found himself quietly accepted, Jane'sattempt at riding was not received with noticeable warmth. Theperformance was in her favor, and that was about all that could be said.
A close observer might have noticed that Tom Beck gave attentionwhenever another spoke of their new boss, as though deeply interestedin what the men had to say. Yet when he spoke of her, his manner wasrather disparaging.
Mail had come in that afternoon and, a happening without precedent,there were two letters for Two-Bits. The man, who could not write andwhose reading was limited to brands, never received mail and before hearrived there was speculation as to the writer of the one letter. Ofthe other there was no mystery because each man of the outfit hadreceived a similar envelope containing a circular letter from a bootmanufacturer.
Two-Bits arrived late, riding slowly toward the corral with his eyes onthe ranch house for a possible look at his fair employer.
"Mail for you, Two-Bits," Curtis remarked casually as he entered.
The others con
cealed their interest while Beck handed the letters toTwo-Bits, who stood eyeing them gravely, striving to cover hissurprise. This could not be done, though, for his agitated Adam's applegave him away as he stood with a letter in each hand, looking from oneto the other.
"I'll bet two-bits somebody's dead," he said with concern, then walkedto the window under a growing sense of importance at his deluge ofcorrespondence.
He opened the letter which they knew contained the solicitation of themaker of boots and all watched him as he stood scowling at it forminutes. He folded the sheet with a sigh and stuffed it, with the otherletter, into his _chap_ pocket and walked thoughtfully to hisbunk, sitting down heavily, elbows on his knees. He shook his headsorrowfully and made a depreciatory clicking with his tongue.
"Boys, I always knowed that girl'd turn out a bad one! It's awful....An' her mother a lady!"
For a moment their restraint held and then their laughter cut loosewith a roar. Curtis fell face down on his bunk and laughed until hisentire length shook. Jimmy Oliver gasped for breath, hands across hisstomach, and the others reeled about the floor or leaned against thewalls, weak with mirth.
"It ain't nothin' to laugh at!" Two-Bits protested, but when he failedto convince them of the gravity he shammed, he rose and permitted anabashed grin to distort his freckled face, muttered something aboutfeeding his horse and walked out.
It was Saturday evening in a season of light work and the socialdiversions of Ute Crossing had called HC riders. Hepburn departedearly and after their horses had eaten Beck and Two-Bits rode out ofthe ranch townward bound. Out of sight of the building Two-Bits said:
"Tom, my eyes ain't very good. I'd like to get you to read this hereother letter for me."
Beck knew that such confidence was high compliment for Two-Bits wassensitive over his educational shortcomings, so he took the letter and,after glancing down the single page, said:
"This is from the Reverend Azariah Beal."
"Oh, my gosh! That's my brother! What's the matter with him, Tom?"
The other read as follows:
My dear Brother:--God willing, I shall visit you. I have often beenimpelled to renew our fraternal relationships but my various chargeshave demanded my sole attention. Now, however, I am on a brief sojournin the marts of trade and my interests call me in your direction. Iexpect to arrive shortly after you receive this. May the Almighty guardand bless thee and keep thee safe until our hands meet in the clasp ofbrotherly love.
"Oh, my gosh!" cried Two-Bits again, Adam's apple leaping and his grayeyes, usually so mild, alight with enthusiasm. "He's comin' to visitme. Gosh, Tom, but he's a smart man! Ain't that elegant language? Say,he's the smartest man in our family an' he's comin' clean from Texas tosee me."
"How long since you've seen him?"
"Oh, quite a while. Since I was three years old."
"And how long ago was that?"
"You got me. I heard about him. He's a preacher. My, oh my, but_she_'ll like him. He's smart, like she is."
His manner was high elation and he spoke breathlessly, and while theytrotted on he chattered in his high voice, eulogizing the virtues ofthis brother he had not seen since infancy, regaling the other withlong and vague tales of his accomplishments. Pressed for details hecould not offer them because his knowledge of the relative had come tohim verbally through the devious channels of the cattle country, butthis did not shake his conviction that the Reverend Beal was peerless.
Tom's mind was not on the extravagant talk of Two-Bits. Curiously, itpersisted in thinking of Jane Hunter.
Two days before he had thought this girl from the east was arattle-brained piece of inconsequence with her selection of a foremanby the drawing of straws. Now he was not so sure that she did notpossess at least several admirable qualities. He had offended her,gently bullied her, only last evening; he had sensed the waning of herown feeling of superiority, had understood that, behind her pique, shetook to heart the things he had said, things which he had said notbecause he thought she should know them but because he wanted to seehow she would react to blunt truths.
She wanted something very badly. Not money; that had been a means.Perhaps it was that vague thing, Herself, of which he had spoken. Hedid not understand, but he liked her determination.... And what wasthis other stranger, this man, to her?
He put his horse into a lope with a queer misgiving. He was taking thiswoman seriously! He was saying slighting things about her and yethoping that other men would speak about her highly! He had never takenmany things--particularly women--seriously before and his experiencewith women had not been meager. It frightened him....
They dismounted before the saloon which adjoined the hotel, eased theircinches and approached the doorway.
In the shadow of the next building two men were talking and Beck eyedthe figures closely. One, he knew, was Hepburn, and the other, from theintonation of his cautiously lowered voice, he took to be Pat Webb, therancher of whom he had spoken to Jane Hunter, telling her that hispresence in the country was not an asset for her.
He went inside, rather absorbed. Sam McKee was there, one of Webb'sriders, the one on whom Beck had inflicted terrible punishment forcruelty to a horse. McKee looked away, a nasty light playing across hisgray eyes, but Beck did not even give him a glance. What was Hepburndoing in close talk with Webb? he asked himself. For years Webb hadbeen under suspicion as a thief and a friend of the lawless. ColonelHunter had never trusted him, and now the foreman of the HC wastalking with him, secretly....
A moment later Hepburn entered and lounged up to the bar and shortlyafterwards Webb came in. He was a small man with sharp features andbright, button-like eyes which roved restlessly. His skin was mottled,his lips hard and cruel; his body seemed to be all nerves for he was inconstant motion.
Webb ordered a drink and glanced about, eyeing Beck and Two-Bits with asuggestive smile. He drank with a swagger and wiped his lips with asharp smack, still smiling as though some unpleasant thought amused him.
A man at the far end of the bar moved closer to Hepburn.
"How's the new boss?" he said with a grin, and Hepburn said, in hisbenevolent manner, that he believed she would do very well.
Others, interested, came closer and more questions followed. Then Webbbroke in:
"I shouldn't think that you HC waddies 'uld be in town nights anymore,"--his glittering eyes on them rather jubilantly.
The talk stopped, for Webb, unsavory as to reputation, was still afigure in the country and his manner as he spoke was laden withsignificance.
"How's that, Webb?" Hepburn asked.
"How's that!" the other mocked. "I've seen her, ain't that enough?There's only two reasons why men want to come to this hole nights;one's booze, an' th' other's women. You can carry your booze out homean'--"
He went on with his blackguard inference and when he had ended a laughwent up, a ribald, obscene, barroom laugh. It had reached its heightwhen Tom Beck, whose eyes had been on Hepburn as Webb gave voice to hisinsult, elbowed the foreman from his way and faced the one who hadoccasioned that laugh.
There was in his manner a quality which caught attention like nippers.
He stood, forcing Webb to look into his threatening face a quietinstant. Then he spoke:
"That's a lie!"
The bantering smile swept from the other's face and his mouth drew downin a slanting snarl.
"What's a lie?"
"What you said is a lie, Webb, an' you're a liar--"
The smaller man's hand whipped to his holster and Beck, breaking short,closed on him, fingers like steel gripping the ready wrist.
"Don't try that with me, you rat!"
With a steady pull he lifted the resisting hand which gripped the gunaway from the man's side while Webb struggled, cursing as he foundhimself unable to resist that strength.
"Give me that gun!"
Beck wrenched the weapon free. The group had drawn back and behind himSam McKee made a quick movement. Two-Bits, beside him, dropped his ha
ndto his hip and muttered:
"Keep out of this!"
McKee, hate flickering in his face, subsided, without protest, as acraven will.
Tom broke the gun and the cartridges scattered on the floor. He closedit with a snap and sent it spinning down the bar, clear to the far end.His eyes had not left Webb's face.
"You're a liar," he said again quietly. "You're a liar and you're goingto tell all the boys here that you're a liar."
"Don't tell me I lie!"--retreating a step as Beck's body swayed towardhim.
"You lied," Tom said quietly, though his voice was not just steady. Hishands were clenched and he held them slightly before his body as thoughyearning for opportunity to seize upon and injure the other.
"What is it to you, anyhow, if--"
"It's this to me, Webb: It makes me want to strangle the foul breath inyour throat! That's what it is to me an' before these boys I will ifyou don't swallow your own dirty words just to get their taste.
"I don't want to be a killer, even over such as you are, but you've gotme mad. We don't know an' nobody else knows how this girl's goin' tomake it in this country, but, by God, Webb, she's goin' to have a fairchance. There ain't going to be any rotten talk that ain't called foran' it ain't called for ... yet.
"I expect I'd get into trouble if I killed you for this. There's justone chance for me to keep out of trouble, and that's for you to say youlied!"
He moved closer as Webb retreated slowly, his spurs ringing ever soslightly, yet their sound was audible in the stillness.
"Say it!" he insisted. "Say it, you whelp!"
Webb's face had gone from red to the color of suet and the blotchesstood sharply out against the pallor. His dirty assurance was beatendown and before this man he was frightened ... and enraged at his ownfright.
"Mebby I spoke too quick--"
"You lied! Nothin' short of that! Say you lied and say it now....Quick!"
He half lurched forward, lifting his eager, vengeful hands, when Webbrelaxed and gave a short, half laugh and said:
"Have it your own way. I lied, I guess. I didn't mean--"
"That'll do, Webb. You've said all that's necessary."
He stood back and dropped his hands limply to his side, eyeing theother with dying wrath. His gaze then went to Hepburn and clung there amoment, eloquent of contempt and he might as well have said: "You'reher foreman. Why didn't _you_ take this up?"
Then he moved to the bar and asked for a drink. Constrained talk arose.Webb sulkily recovered his gun and stood close to Sam McKee, drinking.From the doorway which led into the hotel office Dick Hilton turnedback, whistling lowly to himself, a speculative whistle.
* * * * *
Tom Beck rode home alone, hours before he had intended to leave town.Why had he done that? Always he had disliked Webb but why had thisthing roused in him such tremendous rage? he asked as he unsaddled.
He laughed softly to himself as though he had done somethingridiculous; then he strolled down toward the creek and stood under thecottonwoods a long interval, watching a lighted chamber window.
"You're a queer little yellow-head," he said aloud to that window."You're the kind that gets men into trouble, but maybe you're ... worthit, a lot of it."
He stood for some time, until his wrath had wholly gone and the moodwhich sent merriment dancing in his eyes had returned. It had been aday of understanding: he had broken down the barrier of deceit whichHepburn had attempted to build, he had come to understand that therewas something strange in the pursuit of Jane Hunter by Dick Hilton, hehad understood that in his employer was at least a physical couragewhich was promising, he had humiliated Webb and given the whole countryto understand that there should be no doubting of the new girl'sreputation.
Of those incidents the only one now giving him concern was the attitudeof the foreman. His suspicion was strong, his evidence whollyinadequate.
Tom stood beside his bunk for a time. He had thrown down his gauntlet;he had taken a chance. He might, from now on, face danger orhumiliation but he experienced a relief at knowledge that so far as hewas concerned there was no longer anything under cover. He did not fearHepburn or Webb so far as his own safety went. But there were otherthings, he told himself.
What _was_ up? Just what game would Hepburn play ... if any? Andwho was that man from the East? To what was Jane's confusion due thatafternoon? Was it only embarrassment? Only?
He dozed off and woke with a start. Again he felt the weight of herbody on his arm, again the warmth of her breath on his cheek. He laythere with his heart hammering, then, with a growl, rolled over andwent to sleep.
Well he could that night! But other nights were coming when he wouldponder the significance of Hilton, when the cloud which he then sawvaguely over Jane Hunter's future would be real and appalling, when hewould actually feel her body in his arms, when her warm breath wouldmingle with her warm tears on his cheek, when he would hope that deathmight come to him as a tribute to her. Oh, yes, Tom Beck could put itall aside and sleep this night, but there were others coming ... othernights....