by B. M. Bower
CHAPTER XI. "YOU CAN'T PLAY WITH ME"
Good Indian was young, which means that he was not always logical,nor much given to looking very far into the future except as he waspersonally concerned in what he might see there. By the time Sundaybrought Miss Georgie Howard and the stir of preparation for the fishingtrip, he forgot that he had taken upon himself the responsibility ofwatching the obviously harmless movements of Baumberger, or had takenseriously the warnings of Peppajee Jim; or if he did not forget, he atleast pushed it far into the background of his mind with the assertionthat Peppajee was a meddlesome old fool and Baumberger no more designingthan he appeared--which was not at all.
What did interest him that morning was the changeful mood of Evadna;though he kept his interest so well hidden that no one suspected it--noteven the young lady herself. It is possible that if Evadna had knownthat Good Indian's attitude of calm oblivion to her moods was only amask, she might have continued longer her rigorous discipline of avertedface and frigid tones.
As it was, she thawed toward him as he held himself more aloof, untilshe actually came to the point of addressing him directly, with aflicker of a smile for good measure; and, although he responded withstiff civility, he felt his blood pulse faster, and suddenly conceivedthe idea that women are like the creatures of the wild. If one is veryquiet, and makes no advance whatever, the hunted thing comes closer andcloser, and then a sudden pounce--he caught his breath. After that hewas wary and watchful and full of his purpose.
Within ten minutes Evadna walked into the trap. They had started, andwere fifty yards up the trail, when Phoebe shouted frantically afterthem. And because she was yet a timid rider and feared to keep the paceset by the others, it was Evadna who heard and turned back to see whatwas the trouble. Aunt Phoebe was standing beside the road, waving aflask.
"It's the cream for your coffee," she cried, going to meet Evadna. "Youcan slip it into your jacket-pocket, can't you, honey? Huckleberry is sosteady--and you won't do any wild riding like the boys."
"I've got my veil and a box of bait and two handkerchiefs and a piece ofsoap," the girl complained, reaching down for the bottle, nevertheless."But I can carry it in my hand till I overtake somebody to give it to."
The somebody proved to be Good Indian, who had found it necessary tostop and inspect carefully the left forefoot of his horse, withoutappearing aware of the girl's approach. She ambled up at Huckleberry'sfavorite shuffling gait, struck him with her whip--a blow which wouldnot have perturbed a mosquito--when he showed a disposition to stopbeside Grant, and then, when Huckleberry reluctantly resumed his pacing,pulled him up, and looked back at the figure stooped over the hoof heheld upon his knee. He was digging into the caked dirt inside the hoofwith his pocketknife, and, though Evadna waited while she might havespoken a dozen words, he paid not the slightest attention--and that inspite of the distinct shadow of her head and shoulders which lay at hisfeet.
"Oh--Grant," she began perfunctorily, "I'm sorry to trouble you--but doyou happen to have an empty pocket?"
Good Indian gave a final scrape with his knife, and released the foot,which Keno immediately stamped pettishly into the dust. He closed theknife, after wiping the blade upon his trousers leg, and returned it tohis pocket before he so much as glanced toward her.
"I may have. Why?" He picked up the bridle-reins, caught thesaddle-horn, and thrust his toe into the stirrup. From under hishat-brim he saw that she was pinching her under lip between her teeth,and the sight raised his spirits considerably.
"Oh, nothing. Aunt Phoebe called me back, and gave me a bottle of cream,is all. I shall have to carry it in my hand, I suppose." She twitchedher shoulders, and started Huckleberry off again. She had called himGrant, instead of the formal Mr. Imsen she had heretofore clung to, andhe had not seemed to notice it even.
He mounted with perfectly maddening deliberation, but for all that heovertook her before she had gone farther than a few rods, and he pulledup beside her with a decision which caused Huckleberry to stopalso; Huckleberry, it must be confessed, was never known to show anyreluctance in that direction when his head was turned away from home. Hestood perfectly still while Good Indian reached out a hand.
"I'll carry it--I'm more used to packing bottles," he announced gravely.
"Oh, but if you must carry it in your hand, I wouldn't dream of--" Shewas holding fast the bottle, and trying to wear her Christmas-angellook.
Good Indian laid hold of the flask, and they stood there stubbornlyeying each other.
"I thought you wanted me to carry it," he said at last, pulling harder.
"I merely asked if you had an empty pocket." Evadna clung the tighter.
"Now, what's the use--"
"Just what I was thinking!" Evadna was so impolite as to interrupt him.
Good Indian was not skilled in the management of women, but he knewhorses, and to his decision he added an amendment. Instinctively hefollowed the method taught him by experience, and when he fancied hesaw in her eyes a sign of weakening, he followed up the advantage he hadgained.
"Let go--because I'm going to have it anyway, now," he said quietly,and took the flask gently from her hands. Then he smiled at her foryielding, and his smile was a revelation to the girl, and brought theblood surging up to her face. She rode meekly beside him at the pacehe himself set--which was not rapid, by any means. He watched her withquick, sidelong glances, and wondered whether he would dare say what hewanted to say--or at least a part of it.
She was gazing with a good deal of perseverance at the trail, downthe windings of which the others could be seen now and then gallopingthrough the dust, so that their progress was marked always by asmothering cloud of gray. Then she looked at Grant unexpectedly, met oneof his sharp glances, and flushed hotly again.
"How about this business of hating each other, and not speaking exceptto please Aunt Phoebe?" he demanded, with a suddenness which startledhimself. He had been thinking it, but he hadn't intended to say it untilthe words spoke themselves. "Are we supposed to keep on acting the foolindefinitely?"
"I was not aware that I, at least, was acting the fool," she retorted,with a washed-out primness.
"Oh, I can't fight the air, and I'm not going to try. What I've gotto say, I prefer to say straight from the shoulder. I'm sick of thisstanding off and giving each other the bad eye over nothing. If we'regoing to stay on the same ranch, we might as well be friends. What doyou say?"
For a time he thought she was not going to say anything. She was staringat the dust-cloud ahead, and chewing absently at the corner of her underlip, and she kept it up so long that Good Indian began to scowl and callhimself unseemly names for making any overture whatever. But, just as heturned toward her with lips half opened for a bitter sentence, he saw adimple appear in the cheek next to him, and held back the words.
"You told me you didn't like me," she reminded, looking at him briefly,and afterward fumbling her reins. "You can't expect a girl--"
"I suppose you don't remember coming up to me that first night, andcalling me names, and telling me how you hated me, and--and winding upby pinching me?" he insinuated with hypocritical reproach, and felt ofhis arm. "If you could see the mark--" he hinted shamelessly.
Evadna replied by pushing up her sleeve and displaying a scratch atleast an inch in length, and still roughened and red. "I suppose youdon't remember trying to MURDER me?" she inquired, sweetly triumphant."If you could shoot as well as Jack, I'd have been killed very likely.And you'd be in jail this minute," she added, with virtuous solemnity.
"But you're not killed, and I'm not in jail."
"And I haven't told a living soul about it--not even Aunt Phoebe,"Evadna remarked, still painfully virtuous. "If I had--"
"She'd have wondered, maybe, what you were doing away down there inthe middle of the night," Good Indian finished. "I didn't tell a soul,either, for that matter."
They left the meadowland and the broad stretch of barren sand and sage,and followed, at a leisurely pace, the winding o
f the trail throughthe scarred desolation where the earth had been washed for gold. Evadnastared absently at the network of deep gashes, evidently meditatingvery seriously. Finally she turned to Grant with an honest impulse offriendliness.
"Well, I'm sure I'm willing to bury the tomahawk--er--that is, I mean--"She blushed hotly at the slip, and stammered incoherently.
"Never mind." His eyes laughed at her confusion. "I'm not as bad asall that; it doesn't hurt my feelings to have tomahawks mentioned in mypresence."
Her cheeks grew redder, if that were possible, but she made no attemptto finish what she had started to say.
Good Indian rode silent, watching her unobtrusively and wishing he knewhow to bring the conversation by the most undeviating path to a certainmuch-desired conclusion. After all, she was not a wild thing, but ahuman being, and he hesitated. In dealing with men, he had butone method, which was to go straight to the point regardless ofconsequences. So he half turned in the saddle and rode with one footfree of the stirrup that he might face her squarely.
"You say you're willing to bury the tomahawk; do you mean it?" Hiseyes sought hers, and when they met her glance held it in spite of herblushes, which indeed puzzled him. But she did not answer immediately,and so he repeated the question.
"Do you mean that? We've been digging into each other prettyindustriously, and saying how we hate each other--but are you willingto drop it and be friends? It's for you to say--and you've got to say itnow."
Evadna hung up her head at that. "Are you in the habit of laying downthe law to everyone who will permit it?" she evaded.
"Am I to take it for granted you meant what you said?" He stuckstubbornly to the main issue. "Girls seem to have a way of sayingthings, whether they mean anything or not. Did you?"
"Did I what?" She was wide-eyed innocence again.
Good Indian muttered something profane, and kicked his horse in theribs. When it had taken no more than two leaps forward, however, hepulled it down to a walk again, and his eyes boded ill for the misguidedperson who goaded him further. He glanced at the girl sharply.
"This thing has got to be settled right now, without any more foolingor beating about the bush," he said--and he said it so quietly that shecould scarcely be blamed for not realizing what lay beneath. She wasbeginning to recover her spirits and her composure, and her wholeattitude had become demurely impish.
"Settle it then, why don't you?" she taunted sweetly. "I'm sure Ihaven't the faintest idea what there is to settle--in that solemnmanner. I only know we're a mile behind the others, and Miss Georgiewill be wondering--"
"You say I'm to settle it, the way I want it settled?"
If Evadna did not intend anything serious, she certainly was a fool notto read aright his ominously calm tone and his tensely quiet manner. Shemust have had some experience in coquetry, but it is very likely thatshe had never met a man just like this one. At all events, she tiltedher blonde head, smiled at him daringly, and then made a little grimacemeant to signify her defiance of him and his unwarranted earnestness.
Good Indian leaned unexpectedly, caught her in his arms, and kissed herthree times upon her teasing, smiling mouth, and while she was gaspingfor words to voice her amazement he drew back his head, and gazedsternly into her frightened eyes.
"You can't play with ME," he muttered savagely, and kissed her again."This is how I settle it. You've made me want you for mine. It's got tobe love or--hate now. There isn't anything between, for me and you." Hiseyes passed hungrily from her quivering lips to her eyes, and the glowwithin his own made her breath come faster. She struggled weakly to freeherself, and his clasp only tightened jealously.
"If you had hated me, you wouldn't have stopped back there, and spokento me," he said, the words coming in a rush. "Women like to play withlove, I think. But you can't play with me. I want you. And I'm going tohave you. Unless you hate me. But you don't. I'd stake my life on it."And he kissed her again.
Evadna reached up, felt for her hat, and began pulling it straight,and Good Indian, recalled to himself by the action, released her withmanifest reluctance. He felt then that he ought never to let her go outof his arms; it was the only way, it seemed to him, that he couldbe sure of her. Evadna found words to express her thoughts, and herthoughts were as wholly conventional as was the impulse to straightenher hat.
"We've only known each other a week!" she cried tremulously, whileher gloved fingers felt inquiringly for loosened hairpins. "You've noright--you're perfectly horrid! You take everything for granted--"
Good Indian laughed at her, a laugh of pure, elemental joy in life andin love.
"A man's heart does not beat by the calendar. Nature made the heart tobeat with love, ages before man measured time, and prattled of hours anddays and weeks," he retorted. "I'm not the same man I was a week ago.Nor an hour ago. What does it matter, I am--the man I am NOW." Helooked at her more calmly. "An hour ago," he pointed out, "I didn'tdream I should kiss you. Nor you, that you would let me do it."
"I didn't! I couldn't help myself. You--oh, I never saw such a--abrute!" The tears in her eyes were, perhaps, tears of rage at theswiftness with which he had mastered the situation and turned it in abreath from the safe channel of petty argument. She struck Huckleberry ablow with her whip which sent that astonished animal galloping down theslope before them, his ears laid back and his white eyelashes blinkingresentment against the outrage.
Good Indian laughed aloud, spurred Keno into a run, and passed her witha scurry of dust, a flash of white teeth and laughing black eyes, and awave of his free hand in adieu. He was still laughing when he overtookthe others, passed by the main group, and singled out Jack, hisparticular chum. He refused to explain either his hurry or his mirthfurther than to fling out a vague sentence about a race, and thereafterhe ambled contentedly along beside Jack in the lead, and told how he hadwon a hundred and sixty dollars in a crap game the last time he was inShoshone, and how he had kept on until he had "quit ten dollars inthe hole." The rest of the boys, catching a few words here and there,crowded close, and left the two girls to themselves, while Good Indianrecounted in detail the fluctuations of the game; how he had seesawedfor an hour, winning and losing alternately; and how his luck hadchanged suddenly just when he had made up his mind to play a five-dollargold piece he had in his hand and quit.
"I threw naturals three times in succession," he said, "and let my betsride. Then I got Big Dick, made good, and threw another natural. I wasseeing those Spanish spurs and that peach of a headstall in Fernando'sby that time; seeing them on Keno and me--they're in the window yet,Jack, and I went in when I first hit town and looked them over andpriced them; a hundred and fifty, just about what we guessed he'dhold them at. And say, those conchos--you remember the size of 'em,Jack?--they're solid silver, hammered out and engraved by hand. ThoseMexicans sure do turn out some fine work on their silver fixings!" Hefelt in his pocket for a match.
"Pity I didn't let well enough alone," he went on. "I had the price ofthe outfit, and ten dollars over. But then I got hoggish. I thought Istood a good chance of making seven lucky passes straight--I did once,and I never got over it, I guess. I was going to pinch down to ten--butI didn't; I let her ride. And SHOT CRAPS!"
He drew the match along the stamped saddle-skirt behind the cantle,because that gave him a chance to steal a look behind him without beingcaught in the act. Good, wide hat-brims have more uses than to shieldone's face from the sun. He saw that Evadna was riding in what lookedlike a sulky silence beside her friend, but he felt no compunction forwhat he had done; instead he was exhilarated as with some heady wine,and he did not want to do any thinking about it--yet. He did not evenwant to be near Evadna. He faced to the front, and lighted his cigarettewhile he listened to the sympathetic chorus from the boys.
"What did you do then?" asked Gene.
"Well, I'd lost the whole blamed chunk on a pair of measly aces," hesaid. "I was pretty sore by that time, I'm telling you! I was downto ten dollars, but I started right in to bring back
that hundredand sixty. Funny, but I felt exactly as if somebody had stolen thatheadstall and spurs right out of my hand, and I just had to get itback pronto. I started in with a dollar, lost it on craps--sixes, thattime--sent another one down the same trail trying to make Little Joecome again, third went on craps, fourth I doubled on nine, lost 'em bothon craps--say, I never looked so many aces and sixes in the face in mylife! It was sure kay bueno, the luck I had that night. I got up broke,and had to strike Riley for money to get out of town with."
So for a time he managed to avoid facing squarely this new and veryimportant factor which must henceforth have its place in the problem ofhis life.