by B. M. Bower
CHAPTER NINE
A MIDNIGHT RIDE
"Mary V, what are you doing in the kitchen? Remember, I told you youshouldn't make any more fudge for a week. I don't want any more sessionswith Bedelia like I had last time you left the kitchen all messed up withyour candy. What are you _doing_?"
Mary V licked a dab of loganberry jelly from her left thumb and answeredwith her face turned toward the open window nearest the porch where hermother sat rocking peacefully.
"Oh, for gracious _sake_, mom! I'm only putting up a little lunch beforeI go to bed. I'm going to take my rides earlier, after this, and itwouldn't be kind for me to wake the whole house up at daybreak, gettingmy lunch ready--"
"If you're going at daybreak, why do you need a lunch? If you think I'llpermit you to stay out in the heat all day without any breakfast--"
"Well, mom! I can't take pictures at daybreak, can I? I've _got_ to stayout till the light is strong enough. And there's a special place I want,and if I go early, I can get back early; before lunch, at the verylatest. Do you _want_ me to go without anything to eat?"
"Seems to me you're running them 'Desert Glimpses' into the ground," hermother grumbled comfortably. "You've got a stack higher than your head,now. And some of these days you'll get bit with a snake or a centipedeor--"
"Centipedes don't bite. They grab with their toes. My goodness, mom!A person's got to do _something_! I don't see what harm there is inmy riding horseback in the early morning. It's a healthful form ofexercise--"
"It's a darn fad, and you'll go back to school looking like a squaw--andserve you right. It's getting along towards the time when snakes goblind. You want to be careful, Mary V--"
"Oh, piffle! I've lived here all my life, just about, and I never _saw_ aperson bitten with a snake. And neither did you, mom, and you know it.But, of course, if you insist on making me sit in the house day in andday out--" Mary V cut two more slices of bread and began spreading themliberally with butter. She looked very grieved, and very determined.
"Oh, nobody ever made you sit in the house yet. They'd have to tie youhand and foot to do it," came the placid retort. "Don't you go helpingyourself to that new jelly, Mary V. The old has got to be used up first.And you wipe off the sink when you're through messing around. Bedelia'shinting that she's going to quit when her month is up. It don't help me amite to keep her calmed down when you leave a mess for her every time yougo near the kitchen. She says she's sick and tired of cleaning up afteryou. You know what'll happen if she does quit, Mary V. You'll be gettingyour 'Desert Glimpses' out the kitchen window for a month or so, washingdishes while we scurrup around after another cook. Bedelia--"
"Oh, plague _take_ Bedelia!" snapped Mary V. But she nevertheless spentprecious minutes wiping the butcher knife on Bedelia's clean dish towel,and putting away the butter and the bread, and mopping up the splattersof loganberry jam. Getting her "Desert Glimpses" through the kitchenwindow formed no part of Mary V's plans or desires.
They seemed to Mary V to be precious minutes, although they wouldotherwise have been spent in the wearisome task of waiting until theranch was asleep. She took her jam sandwiches and pickles and cake to herroom, chirping a blithe good-night to her unsuspecting parents. Then,instead of going to bed as she very plainly indicated to those guilelessparents that she meant to do, she clothed herself in her riding breeches,shirt, and coat, and was getting her riding shoes and puttees out of thecloset when she heard her mother coming.
A girl can do a good deal in a minute, if she really bestirs herself.Her mother found Mary V sitting before her dressing table with her hairhanging down her back. She was enfolded in a very pretty pink silkkimono, and she was leisurely dabbing cold cream on her chin and cheekswith her finger tips.
"Be sure you take your goggles with you, Mary V. I notice your eyelidsare all red and inflamed lately when you come in from your rides. And doput them on and wear them if the wind comes up. It's easier to take alittle trouble preventing sore eyes and sunburn than it is to cure them.And don't stay out late in the heat."
"All right, mommie." Drawing her kimono closer about her, Mary V put herface up to be kissed. Her mother hesitated, looking dubiously at thecream dabs, compromised with a peck on Mary V's forehead, and went away.Mary V braided her hair, put on a pair of beaded moccasins, buckled onher six-shooter and gathered together her other paraphernalia. She waitedan hour by her wrist watch, but even that sixty minutes of inaction didnot bring her better judgment to the rescue.
Sober judgment had no place in her thoughts. Instead, she spent the timein wondering if Tango would let her catch him in the corral; in frettingbecause she must wait at all, when there was no telling what might havehappened at Sinkhole; and in giving audience to a temptation that camewith the lagging minutes and began persuading her that Tango was too slowfor the trip she had before her; and in climbing into bed, turning overthree times and climbing out again, leaving the light covering in itsusual heap in the middle.
It was half-past nine when she climbed out of her window with her ridingshoes and puttees, her lunch and her camera and her field glasses, in abundle under one arm. She went in her moccasins until she had passed thebunk house and reached the shed where she kept her saddle.
A dozen horses were dozing over by the feed rack in the corral, and MaryV's eyes strayed often that way while she was clothing her feet for theride. Tango was a good little horse, but he was not the horse for aheroine to ride when she went out across the desert at midnight torescue--er--a good-for-nothing, conceited, quarrelsome, altogetherunbearable young man whom she thoroughly hated, but who was, after all,a human being and therefore to be rescued when necessary.
Would she dare--? Mary V hurried the last puttee buckle, picked up herbridle and a battered feed pan, and went quietly across the corral.Wondering if she would dare made her daring.
Most of the horses sidled off from her approach and began to circleslowly to the far side of the corral. Tango lifted his head and lookedat her reproachfully, moved his feet as though tempted to retreat, andthought better of it. What was the use? Mary V always did what she wantedto do; if not in one way, then in another. Knowing her so well, Tangostood still.
Mary V smiled. Just beyond him another horse also stood still. A tall,big-chested, brilliant-eyed brown, with a crinkly mane, forelock, andtail, and with a reputation that made his name familiar to men in othercounties. His official name was Messenger, but the boys called him Jakefor short. They also asserted pridefully that he had "good blood in him."He belonged to Bill Hayden, really, but the whole Rolling R outfit felt aproprietary interest in him because he had "cleaned up" every horse insouthern Arizona outside the professional class.
Ordinarily Mary V would never have thought of such a thing as ridingJake. She would have considered it as much as her life was worth to puther saddle on him without first asking Bill. Once she had asked Bill, andBill had looked as if she had asked for his toothbrush; shocked,incredulous, as though he could not believe his ears. "Well, I shouldsa-ay not!" Bill had replied when she had made it plain that she expectedan answer.
Ordinarily that would be accepted as final, even by Mary V. Butordinarily Mary V did not climb out of her bedroom window to ride allnight, even though there was a perfectly intoxicating moon. Certainly notto a far line-camp where a young man lived alone, just to ask him whysome one else answered his telephone for him.
To-night was her night for extraordinary behavior, evidently. Shecertainly showed that she had designs on Jake. She held out the feed pan,and gritted her teeth when Tango gratefully ducked his nose into it. Shelet him have one quivery-lipped nibble, and pushed the pan ingratiatinglytoward the black muzzle beyond.
Jake was not a bronk. Having "good blood" he was tame to a degree. Heknew Mary V very well by sight, and, if horses can talk, he had no doubtlearned a good deal about her from his friend Tango, who usually camehome with a grievance. Jake accepted the feed pan graciously, and he didnot shy off when Mary V pushed Tango out of her way and began to s
moothJake's crinkly mane and coax him with endearing words. After a little hepermitted her to slip the bridle reins over his head, and to press thebit gently into his mouth. She set the pan on the ground and so managedto tuck his stiff, brown ears under the headstall, and to pull out hisforelock comfortably while he nosed the pan. The bridge was too small forJake, but Mary V thought it would do, since she was in a great hurry andthe buckles would be stiff and hard to open. The throat latch would notfasten where Tango always wore it, but went down three holes farther.Jake was bigger than she had thought.
But she led him over to the shed door and adjusted the saddle blanketand, standing on her tip-toes, managed to heave her saddle into place.The cinch had to be let out too. Mary V was trembling with impatience tobe gone, now that she had two heinous sins loaded upon her conscienceinstead of one, but she knew better than to start off before her saddlewas right. And, impressed now with the size of Jake, she stood on a boxand let out the headstall two holes.
Jake did not seem to approve of her camera and canteen and field glassesand rifle, and stepped restlessly away from her when she went to tie themon. So she compromised on the canteen and field glasses, and hid cameraand rifle under some sacks in the shed. It seemed to her that she wouldnever get started; as though daylight--and Bill Hayden--would come andfind her still in a nightmare struggle with the details of departure.Back of all that the thought of that strange, disguised voice talkingfor Johnny Jewel nagged at her nerves as something sinister andmysterious.
She led Jake by a somewhat roundabout way to the gate, opened it andclosed it behind them before she attempted to mount. Jake was verytall--much taller than he had ever before seemed to be. She had to hunta high spot and coax him to stand on the lower ground beside it beforeshe could feel confidence enough to lift her toe to the stirrup. BillHayden always danced around a good deal on one foot, she remembered,before he essayed to swing up. Standing on an ant hill did not permitmuch of the preliminary dancing around to which Jake was accustomed, soMary V caught reins and saddle horn and made a desperate, flying leap.
She landed in the saddle, found the stirrups and cried, "You, Jake!" in anot altogether convincing tone. Jake was walking on his hind feet by wayof intimating that he objected to so tight a rein. After that he dancedsidewise, fought for his head, munched the strange bit angrily, snortedand made what the boys called Jake's chain-lightnin' gitaway.
Mary V knew that Jake was running away with her, but since he was runningalong the trail to Sinkhole camp she did not mind so much as you mightthink. At the worst he would fall down and she would get a "spill." Sheknew the sensation, having been spilled several times. So she gripped himtightly with her strong young knees and let him run. And after the firstshock of dismay, she thrilled to the swift flight, with a guiltyexultation in what she had done.
Jake ran a couple of miles before he showed any symptom of slowing. Afterthat he straightened out in a long, easy lope that was a sheer delight toMary V, though she knew it must not be permitted for very long, becauseJake had a good many miles to cover before daylight. She brought him downgradually to a swinging, "running walk" that would have kept any ordinarysaddle horse trotting to match for speed, and although he still mouthedthe strange bit pettishly, he carried Mary V over the trail with a kinglygraciousness that instilled a deep respect into that arrogant young lady.
Tango, I think, would have been amazed to see how Mary V refrainedfrom bullying her mount that night. There was no mane-pulling, nolittle, nipping pinches of the neck to imitate the bite of a fly, noscolding--nothing that Tango had come to take for granted when Mary Vbestrode him.
It was only a little after one o'clock when Mary V, holding Jake down toa walk, nervously passed the empty corral at Sinkhole Camp. She pausedawhile in the shadows, wondering what she had better do next. After all,it would be awkward to investigate the interior of the little cabin thatsquatted there so silently under the moon. She hesitated to dismount.Frankly, Mary V felt much safer with a fleet horse under her, and she wasafraid that she might not be so lucky next time in mounting. So she beganto reconnoiter warily on horseback.
She rode up to the window of the little shed, and saw that it was empty.She rode inside the corral and made a complete circuit of the fence, andsaw nothing whatever of Johnny's saddle and bridle. They would besomewhere around, surely, if he were here. She avoided the cabin, butrode down to the pasture in the creek bottom where Johnny's extra horsewould be feeding. The horse was there, and came trotting lonesomelyup to the fence when he saw Jake. But there was only the one horse,which seemed to prove that the other horse was with the saddle andbridle--wherever they were.
Mary V returned to the corral, still keeping far enough away from thecabin to hide the sound of Jake's hoof beats from any one within. Shetied the horse to a corral post and went on foot to the cabin. Shecarried her six-shooter in her hand, and she carried in her throat anervous fluttering.
First she sidled up to a window and listened, then peered in. She couldsee nothing, for the moon had slid over toward the west, and the room wasa blur of shade. But it was also silent, depressingly silent. She creptaround to the door, and found that it was fastened on the outside.
That heartened her a little. She undid the rawhide string and pushed thedoor open a little way. Nothing happened. She pushed it a little farther,listened, grew bolder--yet frightened with a new fear--and steppedinside.
It was very quiet. It was so quiet that Mary V held her breath and wastempted to turn and run away. She waited for a minute, her nostrilswidened to the pent odor of stale cigarette smoke that clings to abachelor's cabin in warm weather. She tiptoed across the room to whereJohnny's cot stood and timidly passed her hands above the covers.Emboldened by its flat emptiness, Mary V turned and felt along the windowledge where she had seen that Johnny kept his matches, found the box, andlighted a match.
The flare showed her the empty room. Oddly, she stared at the telephoneas though she expected it to reveal something. Some one had stood thereand had talked with her. And Johnny was not at camp at all; had not been,since--
With a truly feminine instinct she turned to the crude cupboard andlooked in. She inspected a dish of brown beans, sniffed and wrinkled hernose. They were sour, and the ones on top were dried with long standing.Johnny's biscuits, on a tin plate, were hard and dry. Not a thing in thatcupboard looked as though it had been cooked later than two or three daysbefore.
A reaction of rage seized Mary V. She went out, tied the door shut withtwo spitefully hard-drawn knots, mounted Jake without a thought of hisheight or his dancing accomplishments, and headed for home at a gallop.
She hated Johnny Jewel every step of the way. I suppose it isexasperating to ride a forbidden, treasured horse on a forbidden,possibly dangerous night journey to rescue a man from some unknown peril,and discover that the young man is not at hand to be rescued. Mary Vseemed to find it so. She decided that Johnny Jewel was up to somedevilment, and had probably hired that man to answer the 'phone for himso her dad would not know he was gone. He thought he was very clever, ofcourse--putting the man up to pretending he had a cold, just to fool herdad. Well, he had fooled her dad, all right, but there happened to be aperson on the ranch he could not fool. That person _hoped_ she wassmarter than Johnny Jewel, and to prove it she would find out what it washe was trying to be so secret about. And then she would confront him withthe proof, and then where would he be?
She certainly owed it to the outfit--to her dad--to find out what wasgoing on. There was no use, she told herself virtuously, in worrying herdad about it until she knew just exactly what that miserable Johnny Jewelwas up to. Poor dad had enough to worry about without filling his mindwith suspicious and mysterious men with fake colds, and things like that.
Mary V unsaddled a very sweaty Jake before the sky was reddening with thedawn; before even the earliest of little brown birds were a-chirp or arooster had lifted his head to crow.
She wakened Tango with the bridle, slapped her saddle on him andtightene
d it with petulant jerks, got her rifle and her camera out fromunder the sacks, mounted and rode away again before even the cook hadcrawled out of his blankets.