by Harold Titus
CHAPTER XIV
The Schoolhouse Dance
Young VB held a twofold interest for the men of Clear River. First, thestory of his fight with the Captain spread over the land, percolatingto the farthest camps. Men laughed at first. The absurdity of it! Then,their surprise giving way to their appreciation of his attainment,their commendation for the young Easterner soared to superlativelyprofane heights.
When he met those who had been strangers before it was to bescrutinized and questioned and frankly, honestly admired.
Now came another reason for discussing him about bunk-house stoves. Hehad thrashed Rhues! Great as had been the credit accorded VB for thecapture of the stallion, just so great was men's delight caused by theoutcome of that other encounter.
They remembered, then, how Rhues had told of the greenhorn who wasafraid to take a drink; how he had made it a purpose to spread storiesof ridicule, doing his best to pervert the community's natural desireto let the affairs of others alone. And this recollection of Rhues'sbullying was an added reason for their saying: "Good! I'm glad to hearit. Too bad th' kid didn't beat him to death!"
Though his meetings with other men were few and scattered, VB wascoming to be liked. It mattered little to others why he was in thecountry, from where he came, or who he had been. He had accomplishedtwo worthy things among them, and respect was accorded him across vastdistances. Dozens of these men had seen him only once, and scoresnever, yet they reckoned him of their number--a man to be takenseriously, worthy of their kindly attention, of their interest, and oftheir respect.
Bob Thorpe helped to establish VB in the mountains. He thought muchabout his interview with the young chap, and told to a half-dozen menthe story which, coming from him, had weight.
His daughter did not abandon her idea of owning the Captain. Bob toldher repeatedly that it was useless to argue with a man who spoke as didJed's rider; but the girl chose to disagree with him.
"I think that if you'd flatter him enough--if we both would--that hewould listen. Don't you?" she asked.
Bob Thorpe shook his head.
"No," he answered. "You can't convince me of that. You don't know men,and I do. I've seen one or two like him before--who love a thing ofthat sort above money; and, I've found you can't do a thing with'em--ding 'em!"
The girl cried: "Why, don't feel that way about it! I think it'sperfectly fine--to love an animal so much that money won't buy him!"
"Sure it is," answered her father. "That's what makes me out ofpatience with them. They're--they're better men than most of us,and--well, they make a fellow feel rather small at times."
Then he went away, and Gail puzzled over his concluding remark.
A week to a day after her first visit she drove again to Jed's ranch.
"I came over to see the Captain," she told the old man gayly.
"Well, th' Captain ain't here now," he answered, beaming on her; "butVB'll be back with him before noon."
She looked for what seemed to be an unnecessarily long time at herwatch, and then asked:
"Is that his name?"
"What--th' Captain?"
"No--VB."
Jed laughed silently at her.
"Yep--to be sure an' that's his name--all th' name he's got."
"Well, I wish Mr. VB would hurry back with the Captain," she said.
But that easy flush was again in her cheeks, and the turn she gave theconversation was, as they say in certain circles, poor footwork.
Within an hour the Captain bore his rider home. Gail stayed for dinnerand ate with the two men.
It was a strange meal for VB. Not in months had he eaten at the sametable with a woman; not in years had he broken bread with a woman suchas this, and realization of the fact carried him back beyond thosedarkest days. He remembered suddenly and quite irrelevantly that heonce had wondered if this daughter of Bob Thorpe's was to be aconnecting link with the old life. That had been when he first learnedthat the big cattleman had a daughter, and that she was living in hisEast. Now as he sat before neglected food and watched and listened,feasting his starved spirit on her, noting her genuine vivacity, herenthusiasm, the quick come and go of color in her fine skin, he knewthat she was a link, but not with the past that he had feared. She tookhim back beyond that, into his earlier boyhood, that period ofadolescence when, to a clean-minded boy, all things are good andunstained. She was attractive in all the ways that women can beattractive, and at the same time she was more than a desirableindividual; she seemed to stand for classes, for modes of living andthinking, that Young VB had put behind him--put behind first by hiswasting, now by distance. But as the meal progressed a fresh wondercrept up in his mind. Was all that really so very far away? Was not thedistance just that between them and the big ranch house under thecotton woods beyond the hills? And was the result of his wasting quiteirreparable? Was he not rebuilding what he had torn down?
He felt himself thrilling and longing suddenly for fresher, newerexperiences as the talk ran on between the others. The conversation waswholly of the country, and VB was surprised to discover that this girlcould talk intelligently and argue effectively with Jed over localstock conditions when she looked for all the world like any of thehundreds he could pick out on Fifth Avenue at five o'clock of any fineafternoon. He corrected himself hastily. She was _not_ like thoseothers, either. She possessed all their physical endowments, all andmore, for her eye was clearer, her carriage better, she was possessedof a color that was no sham; and a finer body. Put her beside them intheir own environment, and they would seem stale by comparison; bringthose others here, and their bald artificiality would be pathetic. Theboy wanted her to know those things, yet thought of telling her nevercame to his consciousness. Subjectively he was humble before her.
The interest between the two young people was not centered completelyin VB. Each time he lowered his gaze to his plate he was conscious ofthose frank, intelligent blue eyes on him, studying, prying, wondering,a laugh ever deep within them. Now and then the girl addressed a remarkto him, but for the most part she spoke directly to Jed; however, shewas studying the boy every instant, quietly, carefully, missing nodetail, and by the time the meal neared its end the laughter had lefther eyes and they betrayed a frank curiosity.
When the meal was finished the girl asked VB to take her to the corral.She made the request lightly, but it smote something in the man aterrific blow, stirring old memories, fresh desires, and he wasstrangely glad that he could do something for her. As they walked fromthe cabin to the inclosure he was flushed, embarrassed, awkward. Hecould not talk to her, could scarcely keep his body from swinging fromside to side with schoolboy shyness.
The stallion did not fidget at sight of the girl as he had done on theapproach of other strangers. He snorted and backed away, keeping hiseyes on her and his ears up with curiosity, coming to a halt againstthe far side of the corral and switching his fine tail down over theshapely hocks as though to make these people understand that in spiteof his seeming harmlessness he might yet show the viciousness thatlurked down in his big heart.
"I think he'll come to like you," said VB, looking from his horse tothe girl. "I don't see how he could help it--to like women,understand," he added hastily when she turned a wide-eyed gaze on him."He doesn't like strange men, but see--he's interested in you; and it'scuriosity, not anger. I--I don't blame him--for being interested," heventured, and hated himself for the flush that swept up from his neck.
They both laughed, and Gail said: "So this country hasn't taken theflattery out of you?"
"Why, it's been years--years since I said a thing like that to a girlof your sort," VB answered soberly.
An awkward pause followed.
"Dare I touch him?" the girl finally asked.
"No, I wouldn't to-day," VB advised. "Just let him look at you now.Some other time we'll see if--That is, if you'll ever come to seeus--to see the Captain again."
"I should like to come to see the Captain very much, and as often as isproper," she said with
mocking demureness.
And she did come again; and again and yet again. Always she took painsto begin with inquiries about the horse. When she did this in JedAvery's presence it was with a peculiar avoidance of his gaze, thatmight have been from embarrassment; when she asked Young VB thosequestions it was with a queer little teasing smile. A half-dozen timesshe found the boy alone at the ranch, and the realization that on suchoccasions she stayed longer than she did when Jed was about gave him anew thrill of delight.
At first there was an awkward reserve between them, but after theearlier visits this broke down and their talk became interspersed withpersonal references, with small, inconsequential confidences that,intrinsically worthless, meant much to them. Yet there was never a wordof the life both had lived far over the other side of those snowcaps tothe eastward. Somehow the girl felt intuitively that it had not allbeen pleasant for the man there, and VB maintained a stubbornreticence. He could have told her much of her own life back in theEast, of the things she liked, of the events and conditions that wereirksome, because he knew the environment in which she had lived and hefelt that he knew the girl herself. He would not touch that topic,however, for it would lead straight to _his_ life; and all that hewanted for his thoughts now were Jed and the hills and the Captainand--this girl. They composed a comfortable world of which he wanted tobe a part.
Gail found herself feeling strangely at home with this young fellow.She experienced a mingled feeling compounded of her friendship for thefinished youths she had known during school days and that which shefelt for the men of her mountains, who were, she knew, as rugged, asgenuine, as the hills themselves. To her Young VB rang true from theground up, and he bore the finish that can come only from contact withmany men. That is a rare combination.
It came about that after a time the Captain let Gail touch him, allowedher to walk about him and caress his sleek body. Always, when she wasnear, he stood as at attention, dignified and self-conscious, and fromtime to time his eyes would seek the face of his master, as though forreassurance. Once after the girl had gone VB took the Captain's facebetween his hands and, looking into the big black eyes, muttered almostfiercely:
"She's as much of the real stuff as you are, old boy! Do you think,Captain, that I can ever match up with you two?"
Before a month had gone by the girl could lead the Captain about, couldplay with him almost as familiarly as VB did; but always the horsesubmitted as if uninterested, went through this formality of makingfriends as though it were a duty that bored him.
Once Dick Worth, the deputy from Sand Creek, and his wife rode up thegulch to see the black stallion. While the Captain would not allow theman near him, he suffered the woman to tweak his nose and slap hischeeks and pull his ears; then it was that Jed and VB knew that theanimal understood the difference between sexes and that the chivalrywhich so became him had been cultivated by his intimacy with GailThorpe.
After that, of course, there was no plausible excuse for Gail'srepeated visits. However, she continued coming. VB was always reservedup to a certain point before her, never yielding beyond it in spite ofthe strength of the subtle tactics she employed to draw him out. Asense of uncertainty of himself held him aloof. Within him was atraditional respect for women. He idealized them, and then set for mena standard which they must attain before meeting women as equals. Butthis girl, while satisfying his ideal, would not remain aloof. Sheforced herself into VB's presence, forced herself, and yet with adelicacy that could not be misunderstood. She came regularly, hervisits lengthened, and one sunny afternoon as they stood watching theCaptain roll she looked up sharply at the man beside her.
"Why do you keep me at this?"
"This? What? I don't get your meaning."
"At coming over here? Why don't you come to see me? I-- Of course, Ihaven't any fine horse to show you, but--"
Her voice trailed off, with a hint of wounded pride in the tone. Theman faced her, stunning surprise in his face.
"You--you don't think I fail to value this friendship of ours?" hedemanded, rallying. "You--Why, what can I say to you? It has meant somuch to me--just seeing you; it's been one of the finest things of thisfine country. But I thought--I thought it was because of this,"--with agesture toward the Captain, who stood shaking the dust from his hairwith mighty effort. "I thought all along you were interested in thehorse; not that you cared about knowing me--"
"Did you really think that?" she broke in.
VB flushed, then laughed, with an abrupt change of mood.
"Well, it _began_ that way," he pleaded weakly.
"And you'd let it end that way."
"Oh, no; you don't understand, Miss Thorpe," serious again. "I--I can'texplain, and you don't understand now. But I've felt somehow as thoughit would be presuming too much if I came to see you."
She looked at him calculatingly a long moment as he twirled his hat andkicked at a pebble with his boot.
"I think it would be presuming too much if you let me do all thetraveling, since you admit that a friendship does exist," she saidlightly.
"Then the only gallant thing for me to do is to call on you."
"I think so. I'm glad you recognize the fact."
"When shall it be?"
"Any time. If I'm not home, stay until I get back. Daddy likes you.You'll love my mother."
The vague "any time" occurred three days later. Young VB made a specialtrip over the hills to the S Bar S. The girl was stretched in ahammock, reading, when he rode up, and at the sound of his horse shescrambled to her feet, flushed, and evidently disconcerted.
"I'd given you up!" she cried.
"In three days?" taking the hand she offered.
"Well--most boys in the East would have come the next morning--if theywere really interested."
"This is Colorado," he reminded her.
He sat crosslegged on the ground at her feet, and they talked of thebook she had been reading. It was a novel of music and a musician and arare achievement, she said. He questioned her about the story, andtheir talk drifted to music, on which they both could converse well.
"You don't know what it means--to sit here and talk of these thingswith you," he said hungrily.
"Well, I should like to know," she said, leaning forward over her knees.
For two long hours they talked as they never had talked before; ofpersonal tastes, of kindred enthusiasms, of books and plays and musicand people. They went into the ranch house, and Gail played for him--onthe only grand piano in that section of the state. They came out, andshe saddled her pony to ride part way back through the hills with him.
"_Adios,_ my friend," she called after him, as he swung away from her.
"It's your turn to call now," he shouted back to her, and when theridge took him from sight he leaned low to the Captain's ear andrepeated gently,--"my friend!"
So the barrier of reserve was broken. VB did not dare think into thefuture in any connection--least of all in relation to this new andgrowing friendship; yet he wanted to make their understanding morecomplete though he would scarcely admit that fact even to himself.
A week had not passed when Gail Thorpe drove the automobile up to theVB gate.
"I didn't come to see the Captain this time," she announced to themboth. "I came to pay a party call to Mr. VB, and to include Mr. Avery.Because when a girl out here receives a visit from a man it's of partyproportions!"
As she was leaving, she asked, "Why don't you come down to the danceFriday night?"
"A big event?"
"Surely!" She laughed merrily. "It's the first one since spring, andeverybody'll be there. Mr. Avery will surely come. Won't you, too, Mr.VB?"
He evaded her, but when she had turned the automobile about and speddown the road, homeward bound, he let down the bars for youth'sromanticism and knew that he would dance with her if it meant walkingevery one of the twenty-two miles to the schoolhouse.
For the first time in years VB felt a thrill at the anticipation of asocial function, and with it a guilty
little thought kept buzzing inthe depths of his mind. The thought was: Is her hair as fragrant as itis glorious in color and texture?
Jed and VB made the ride after supper, over frozen paths, for autumnhad aged and the tang of winter was in the air. Miles away they couldsee the glow of the bonfire that had been built before the little stoneschoolhouse; and VB was not sorry that Jed wanted to ride the laststages of the trip at a faster pace.
Clear River had turned out, to the last man and woman--and to the lastchild, too! The schoolhouse was no longer a seat of learning; it was afestal bower. The desks had been taken up and placed along the fourwalls, seats outward, tops forming a ledge against the calciminedstones, making a splendid place for those youngest children who hadturned out! Yes, a dozen babies slumbered there in the confusion,wrapped in many thicknesses of blankets.
Three lamps with polished reflectors were placed on window ledges, andthe yellow glare filled the room with just sufficient brilliance tosoften lines in faces and wrinkles in gowns that clung to bodies inunexpected places. The fourth window ledge was reserved for themusic--a phonograph with a morning-glory horn, a green morning-gloryhorn that would have baffled a botanist. The stove blushed as if forits plainness in the center of the room, and about it, with a greatscraping of feet and profound efforts to be always gentlemanly and atease, circled the men, guiding their partners.
VB stood in the doorway and watched. He coughed slightly from the dustthat rose and mantled everything with a dulling blanket--everything, Isaid, but the eyes must be excepted. They flashed with as warm abrilliance as they ever do where there is music and dancing andlaughter.
The music stopped. Women scurried to their seats; some lifted the edgesof blankets and peered with concerned eyes at the little sleepers lyingthere, then whirled about and opened their arms to some new gallant;for so brief was the interval between dances.
"Well, are you never going to see me?"
VB started at the sound of Gail's voice so close to him. He bowed andsmiled at her.
"I was interested," he said in excuse. "Getting my bearings."
She did not reply, but the expectancy in her face forced hisinvitation, and they joined the swirl about the stove.
"I can't dance in these riding boots," he confided with an embarrassedlaugh. "Never thought about it until now."
"Oh, yes, you can! You dance much better than most men. Don't stop,please!"
He knew that no woman who danced with Gail's lightness could findpleasure in the stumbling, stilted accompaniment of his handicappedfeet; and the conviction sent a fresh thrill through him. He was gladshe wanted him to keep on! She had played upon the man down in him andtouched upon vanity, one of those weak spots in us. She wanted himnear. His arm, spite of his caution, tightened a trifle and he suddenlyknew that her _hair_ was as fragrant as it should be--a heavy, richodor that went well with its other wealth! For an instant he was a bitgiddy, but as the music came to a stop he recovered himself and walkedsilently beside Gail to a seat.
After that he danced with the wife of a cattleman, and answeredabsently her stammered advances at communication while he watched thefloating figure of Gail Thorpe as it followed the bungling lead of herfather's foreman.
The end of the intermission found him with her again. As they whirledaway his movements became a little quicker, his tongue a little looser.It had been a long time since he had felt so gay.
He learned of the other women, Gail telling him about them as theydanced, and through the thrill that her warm breath aroused he foundhimself delighting in the individuality of her expression, the stampingof a characteristic in his mind by a queer little word or twistedphrase. He discovered, too, that she possessed a penetrating insightinto the latent realities of life. The red-handed, blunt, strong womenabout him, who could ride with their husbands and brothers, who couldface hardships, who knew grim elementals, became new beings under theinterpretation of this sunny-haired girl; took on a charm tinged withpathos that brought up within VB a sympathy that those struggles inhimself had all but buried. And the knowledge that Gail appreciatedthose raw realities made him look down at her lingeringly, a triflewonderingly.
She was of that other life--the life of refinements--in so many ways,yet she had escaped its host of artificialities. She had lifted herselfabove the people among whom she was reared; but her touch, hersympathies, her warm humanness remained unalloyed! She was real.
And then, when he was immersed in this appreciation of her, she turnedthe talk suddenly to him. He was but slightly responsive. He put heroff, evaded, but he laughed; his cold reluctance to let her know himhad ceased to be so stern, and her determination to get behind hissilence rose.
As they stood in the doorway in a midst of repartee she burst on him:
"Mr. VB, why do you go about with that awful name? It's almost as badas being branded."
He sobered so quickly that it frightened her.
"Maybe I am branded," he said slowly, and her agile understandingcaught the significance of his tone. "Perhaps I'm branded and can't useanother. Who knows?"
He smiled at her, but from sobered eyes. Confused by his evidentseriousness, she made one more attempt, and laughed: "Well, if youwon't tell me who you are, won't you please tell me what you are?"
The door swung open then, and on the heels of her question came voicesfrom without. One voice rose high above the rest, and they heard: "Aw,come on; le's have jus' one more little drag at th' bottle!"
VB looked at Gail a bit wildly.
Those words meant that out there whisky was waiting for him, and at itsmention that searing thing sprang alive in his throat!
"What am I?" he repeated dully, trying to rally himself. "What am I?"Unknowingly his fingers gripped her arm. "Who knows? I don't!"
And he flung out of the place, wanting but one thing--to be with theCaptain, to feel the stallion's nose in his arms, to stand close to thebody which housed a spirit that knew no defeat.
As he strode past the bonfire a man's face leered at him from the farside. The man was Rhues.