WHEN Dick opened his eyes a flood of golden sunshine streamed in at the
open window under which he lay. His first thought was one of blank
wonder as to where in the world he happened to be. The room was large,
square, adobe-walled. It was littered with saddles, harness, blankets.
Upon the floor was a bed spread out upon a tarpaulin. Probably this
was where some one had slept. The sight of huge dusty spurs, a gun
belt with sheath and gun, and a pair of leather chaps bristling with
broken cactus thorns recalled to Dick the cowboys, the ride, Mercedes,
and the whole strange adventure that had brought him there.
He did not recollect having removed his boots; indeed, upon second
thought, he knew he had not done so. But there they stood upon the
floor. Ladd and Lash must have taken them off when he was so exhausted
and sleepy that he could not tell what was happening. He felt a dead
weight of complete lassitude, and he did not want to move. A sudden
pain in his hand caused him to hold it up. It was black and blue,
swollen to almost twice its normal size, and stiff as a board. The
knuckles were skinned and crusted with dry blood. Dick soliloquized
that it was the worst-looking hand he had seen since football days, and
that it would inconvenience him for some time.
A warm, dry, fragrant breeze came through the window. Dick caught
again the sweet smell of flowers or fruit. He heard the fluttering of
leaves, the murmur of running water, the twittering of birds, then the
sound of approaching footsteps and voices. The door at the far end of
the room was open. Through it he saw poles of peeled wood upholding a
porch roof, a bench, rose bushes in bloom, grass, and beyond these
bright-green foliage of trees.
"He shore was sleepin' when I looked in an hour ago," said a voice that
Dick recognized as Ladd's.
"Let him sleep," came the reply in deep, good-natured tones. "Mrs. B.
says the girl's never moved. Must have been a tough ride for them
both. Forty miles through cactus!"
"Young Gale hoofed darn near half the way," replied Ladd. "We tried to
make him ride one of our hosses. If we had, we'd never got here. A
walk like that'd killed me an' Jim."
"Well, Laddy, I'm right down glad to see you boys, and I'll do all I
can for the young couple," said the other. "But I'm doing some worry
here; don't mistake me."
"About your stock?"
"I've got only a few head of cattle at the oasis now, I'm worrying
some, mostly about my horses. The U. S. is doing some worrying, too,
don't mistake me. The rebels have worked west and north as far as
Casita. There are no cavalrymen along the line beyond Casita, and
there can't be. It's practically waterless desert. But these rebels
are desert men. They could cross the line beyond the Rio Forlorn and
smuggle arms into Mexico. Of course, my job is to keep tab on Chinese
and Japs trying to get into the U.S. from Magdalena Bay. But I'm
supposed to patrol the border line. I'm going to hire some rangers.
Now, I'm not so afraid of being shot up, though out in this lonely
place there's danger of it; what I'm afraid of most is losing that
bunch of horses. If any rebels come this far, or if they ever hear of
my horses, they're going to raid me. You know what those guerrilla
Mexicans will do for horses. They're crazy on horse flesh. They know
fine horses. They breed the finest in the world. So I don't sleep
nights any more."
"Reckon me an' Jim might as well tie up with your for a spell, Beldin'.
We've been ridin' up an' down Arizona tryin' to keep out of sight of
wire fences."
"Laddy, it's open enough around Forlorn River to satisfy even an
old-time cowpuncher like you," laughed Belding. "I'd take your staying
on as some favor, don't mistake me. Perhaps I can persuade the young
man Gale to take a job with me."
"That's shore likely. He said he had no money, no friends. An' if a
scrapper's all you're lookin' for he'll do," replied Ladd, with a dry
chuckle.
"Mrs. B. will throw some broncho capers round this ranch when she hears
I'm going to hire a stranger."
"Why?"
"Well, there's Nell-- And you said this Gale was a young American. My
wife will be scared to death for fear Nell will fall in love with him."
Laddy choked off a laugh, then evidently slapped his knee or Belding's,
for there was a resounding smack.
"He's a fine-spoken, good-looking chap, you said?" went on Belding.
"Shore he is," said Laddy, warmly. "What do you say, Jim?"
By this time Dick Gale's ears began to burn and he was trying to make
himself deaf when he wanted to hear every little word.
"Husky young fellow, nice voice, steady, clear eyes, kinda proud, I
thought, an' some handsome, he was," replied Jim Lash.
"Maybe I ought to think twice before taking a stranger into my family,"
said Belding, seriously. "Well, I guess he's all right, Laddy, being
the cavalryman's friend. No bum or lunger? He must be all right?"
"Bum? Lunger? Say, didn't I tell you I shook hands with this boy an'
was plumb glad to meet him?" demanded Laddy, with considerable heat.
Manifestly he had been affronted. "Tom Beldin', he's a gentleman, an'
he could lick you in--in half a second. How about that, Jim?"
"Less time," replied Lash. "Tom, here's my stand. Young Gale can have
my hoss, my gun, anythin' of mine."
"Aw, I didn't mean to insult you, boys, don't mistake me," said
Belding. "Course he's all right."
The object of this conversation lay quiet upon his bed, thrilling and
amazed at being so championed by the cowboys, delighted with Belding's
idea of employing him, and much amused with the quaint seriousness of
the three.
"How's the young man?" called a woman's voice. It was kind and mellow
and earnest.
Gale heard footsteps on flagstones.
"He's asleep yet, wife," replied Belding. "Guess he was pretty much
knocked out.... I'll close the door there so we won't wake him."
There were slow, soft steps, then the door softly closed. But the fact
scarcely made a perceptible difference in the sound of the voices
outside.
"Laddy and Jim are going to stay," went on Belding. "It'll be like the
old Panhandle days a little. I'm powerful glad to have the boys,
Nellie. You know I meant to sent to Casita to ask them. We'll see some
trouble before the revolution is ended. I think I'll make this young
man Gale an offer."
"He isn't a cowboy?" asked Mrs. Belding, quickly.
"No."
"Shore he'd make a darn good one," put in Laddy.
"What is he? Who is he? Where did he come from? Surely you must be--"
"Laddy swears he's all right," interrupted the husband. "That's enough
reference for me. Isn't it enough for you?"
"Humph! Laddy knows a lot about young men, now doesn't he, especially
strangers from the East?... Tom, you must be careful!"
"Wife, I'm only too glad to have a nervy young chap come along. What
sense is there in your objection, if Jim and Laddy stick up for him?"
"But, Tom--he'll fall in love with Nell!" protested Mrs. Belding.
"Well, wouldn't that be regular? Doesn't every man who comes along
fall in love with Nell? Hasn't it always happened? When she was a
schoolgirl in Kansas didn't it happen? Didn't she have a hundred
moon-eyed ninnies after her in Texas? I've had some peace out here in
the desert, except when a Greaser or a prospector or a Yaqui would come
along. Then same old story--in love with Nell!"
"But, Tom, Nell might fall in love with this young man!" exclaimed the
wife, in distress.
"Laddy, Jim, didn't I tell you?" cried Belding. "I knew she'd say
that.... My dear wife, I would be simply overcome with joy if Nell did
fall in love once. Real good and hard! She's wilder than any antelope
out there on the desert. Nell's nearly twenty now, and so far as we
know she's never cared a rap for any fellow. And she's just as gay and
full of the devil as she was at fourteen. Nell's as good and lovable as
she is pretty, but I'm afraid she'll never grow into a woman while we
live out in this lonely land. And you've always hated towns where there
was a chance for the girl--just because you were afraid she'd fall in
love. You've always been strange, even silly, about that. I've done
my best for Nell--loved her as if she were my own daughter. I've
changed many business plans to suit your whims. There are rough times
ahead, maybe. I need men. I'll hire this chap Gale if he'll stay. Let
Nell take her chance with him, just as she'll have to take chances with
men when we get out of the desert. She'll be all the better for it."
"I hope Laddy's not mistaken in his opinion of this newcomer," replied
Mrs. Belding, with a sigh of resignation.
"Shore I never made a mistake in my life figger'n' people," said Laddy,
stoutly.
"Yes, you have, Laddy," replied Mrs. Belding. "You're wrong about
Tom.... Well, supper is to be got. That young man and the girl will be
starved. I'll go in now. If Nell happens around don't--don't flatter
her, Laddy, like you did at dinner. Don't make her think of her looks."
Dick heard Mrs. Belding walk away.
"Shore she's powerful particular about that girl," observed Laddy.
"Say, Tom, Nell knows she's pretty, doesn't she?"
"She's liable to find it out unless you shut up, Laddy. When you
visited us out here some weeks ago, you kept paying cowboy compliments
to her."
"An' it's your idea that cowboy compliments are plumb bad for girls?"
"Downright bad, Laddy, so my wife says."
"I'll be darned if I believe any girl can be hurt by a little sweet
talk. It pleases 'em.... But say, Beldin', speaking of looks, have you
got a peek yet at the Spanish girl?"
"Not in the light."
"Well, neither have I in daytime. I had enough by moonlight. Nell is
some on looks, but I'm regretful passin' the ribbon to the lady from
Mex. Jim, where are you?"
"My money's on Nell," replied Lash. "Gimme a girl with flesh an'
color, an' blue eyes a-laughin'. Miss Castaneda is some peach, I'll
not gainsay. But her face seemed too white. An' when she flashed
those eyes on me, I thought I was shot! When she stood up there at
first, thankin' us, I felt as if a--a princess was round somewhere.
Now, Nell is kiddish an' sweet an'--"
"Chop it," interrupted Belding. "Here comes Nell now."
Dick's tingling ears took in the pattering of light footsteps, the rush
of some one running.
"Here you are," cried a sweet, happy voice. "Dad, the Senorita is
perfectly lovely. I've been peeping at her. She sleeps like--like
death. She's so white. Oh, I hope she won't be ill."
"Shore she's only played out," said Laddy. "But she had spunk while it
lasted.... I was just arguin' with Jim an' Tom about Miss Castaneda."
"Gracious! Why, she's beautiful. I never saw any one so beautiful....
How strange and sad, that about her! Tell me more, Laddy. You
promised. I'm dying to know. I never hear anything in this awful
place. Didn't you say the Senorita had a sweetheart?"
"Shore I did."
"And he's a cavalryman?"
"Yes."
"Is he the young man who came with you?"
"Nope. That fellow's the one who saved the girl from Rojas."
"Ah! Where is he, Laddy?"
"He's in there asleep."
"Is he hurt?"
"I reckon not. He walked about fifteen miles."
"Is he--nice, Laddy?"
"Shore."
"What is he like?"
"Well, I'm not long acquainted, never saw him by day, but I was some
tolerable took with him. An' Jim here, Jim says the young man can have
his gun an' his hoss."
"Wonderful! Laddy, what on earth did this stranger do to win you
cowboys in just one night?"
"I'll shore have to tell you. Me an' Jim were watchin' a game of cards
in the Del Sol saloon in Casita. That's across the line. We had
acquaintances--four fellows from the Cross Bar outfit, where we worked
a while back. This Del Sol is a billiard hall, saloon, restaurant, an'
the like. An' it was full of Greasers. Some of Camp's rebels were
there drinkin' an' playin' games. Then pretty soon in come Rojas with
some of his outfit. They were packin' guns an' kept to themselves off
to one side. I didn't give them a second look till Jim said he reckoned
there was somethin' in the wind. Then, careless-like, I began to peek
at Rojas. They call Rojas the 'dandy rebel,' an' he shore looked the
part. It made me sick to see him in all that lace an' glitter, knowin'
him to be the cutthroat robber he is. It's no oncommon sight to see
excited Greasers. They're all crazy. But this bandit was shore some
agitated. He kept his men in a tight bunch round a table. He talked
an' waved his hands. He was actually shakin'. His eyes had a wild
glare. Now I figgered that trouble was brewin', most likely for the
little Casita garrison. People seemed to think Campo an' Rojas would
join forces to oust the federals. Jim thought Rojas's excitement was
at the hatchin' of some plot. Anyway, we didn't join no card games,
an' without pretendin' to, we was some watchful.
"A little while afterward I seen a fellow standin' in the restaurant
door. He was a young American dressed in corduroys and boots, like a
prospector. You know it's no onusual fact to see prospectors in these
parts. What made me think twice about this one was how big he seemed,
how he filled up that door. He looked round the saloon, an' when he
spotted Rojas he sorta jerked up. Then he pulled his slouch hat
lopsided an' began to stagger down, down the steps. First off I made
shore he was drunk. But I remembered he didn't seem drunk before. It
was some queer. So I watched that young man.
"He reeled around the room like a fellow who was drunker'n a lord.
Nobody but me seemed to notice him. Then he began to stumble over
pool-players an' get his feet tangled up in chairs an' bump against
tables. He got some pretty hard looks. He came round our way, an' all
of a sudden he seen us cowboys. He gave another start, like the one
when he first seen Rojas, then he made for us. I tipped Jim off that
somethin' was doin'.
"When he got close he straightened up, put back his slouch hat, an'
looked at us. Then I saw his face. It sorta electrified yours truly.
It was white, with veins standin' out an' eyes flamin'--a face of fury.
I was plumb amazed, didn't know what to think. Then this queer young
man shot some cool, polite words at me an' Jim.
"He was only bluffin' at bein' drunk--he meant to rush Rojas, to start
a rough house. The bandit was after a girl. This girl was in the
hotel, an' she was the sweetheart of a soldier, the young fellow's
friend. The hotel was watched by Rojas's guards, an' the plan was to
make a fuss an' get the girl away in the excitement. Well, Jim an' me
got a hint of our bein' Americans--that cowboys generally had a name
for loyalty to women. Then this amazin' chap--you can't imagine how
scornful--said for me an' Jim to watch him.
"Before I could catch my breath an' figger out what he meant by 'rush'
an' 'rough house' he had knocked over a table an' crowded some Greaser
half off the map. One little funny man leaped up like a wild monkey
an' began to screech. An' in another second he was in the air upside
down. When he lit, he laid there. Then, quicker'n I can tell you, the
young man dove at Rojas. Like a mad steer on the rampage he charged
Rojas an' his men. The whole outfit went down--smash! I figgered then
what 'rush' meant. The young fellow came up out of the pile with
Rojas, an' just like I'd sling an empty sack along the floor he sent
the bandit. But swift as that went he was on top of Rojas before the
chairs an' tables had stopped rollin'.
"I woke up then, an' made for the center of the room. Jim with me. I
began to shoot out the lamps. Jim throwed his guns on the crazy
rebels, an' I was afraid there'd be blood spilled before I could get
the room dark. Bein's shore busy, I lost sight of the young fellow for
a second or so, an' when I got an eye free for him I seen a Greaser
about to knife him. Think I was some considerate of the Greaser by
only shootin' his arm off. Then I cracked the last lamp, an' in the
hullabaloo me an' Jim vamoosed.
"We made tracks for our hosses an' packs, an' was hittin' the San
Felipe road when we run right plumb into the young man. Well, he said
his name was Gale--Dick Gale. The girl was with him safe an' well; but
her sweetheart, the soldier, bein' away without leave, had to go back
sudden. There shore was some trouble, for Jim an' me heard shootin'.
Gale said he had no money, no friends, was a stranger in a desert
country; an' he was distracted to know how to help the girl. So me an'
Jim started off with them for San Felipe, got switched, and' then we
headed for the Rio Forlorn."
"Oh, I think he was perfectly splendid!" exclaimed the girl.
"Shore he was. Only, Nell, you can't lay no claim to bein' the
original discoverer of that fact."
"But, Laddy, you haven't told me what he looks like."
At this juncture Dick Gale felt it absolutely impossible for him to
play the eavesdropper any longer. Quietly he rolled out of bed. The
voices still sounded close outside, and it was only by effort that he
kept from further listening. Belding's kindly interest, Laddy's blunt
and sincere cowboy eulogy, the girl's sweet eagerness and praise--these
warmed Gale's heart. He had fallen among simple people, into whose
lives the advent of an unknown man was welcome. He found himself in a
singularly agitated mood. The excitement, the thrill, the difference
felt in himself, experienced the preceding night, had extended on into
his present. And the possibilities suggested by the conversation he
had unwittingly overheard added sufficiently to the other feelings to
put him into a peculiarly receptive state of mind. He was wild to be
one of the Belding rangers. The idea of riding a horse in the open
desert, with a dangerous duty to perform, seemed to strike him with an
appealing force. Something within him went out to the cowboys, to this
blunt and kind Belding. He was afraid to meet the girl. If every man
who came along fell in love with this sweet-voiced Nell, then what hope
had he to escape--now, when his whole inner awakening betokened a
change of spirit, hope, a finding of real worth, real good, real power
in himself? He did not understand wholly, yet he felt ready to ride,
to fight, to love the desert, to love these outdoor men, to love a
woman. That beautiful Spanish girl had spoken to something dead in him
and it had quickened to life. The sweet voice of an audacious, unseen
girl warned him that presently a still more wonderful thing would
happen to him.
Gale imagined he made noise enough as he clumsily pulled on his boots,
yet the voices, split by a merry laugh, kept on murmuring outside the
door. It was awkward for him, having only one hand available to lace
up his boots. He looked out of the window. Evidently this was at the
end of the house. There was a flagstone walk, beside which ran a ditch
full of swift, muddy water. It made a pleasant sound. There were
trees strange of form and color to to him. He heard bees, birds,
chickens, saw the red of roses and green of grass. Then he saw, close
to the wall, a tub full of water, and a bench upon which lay basin,
soap, towel, comb, and brush. The window was also a door, for under it
there was a step.
Gale hesitated a moment, then went out. He stepped naturally, hoping
and expecting that the cowboys would hear him. But nobody came.
Awkwardly, with left hand, he washed his face. Upon a nail in the wall
hung a little mirror, by the aid of which Dick combed and brushed his
hair. He imagined he looked a most haggard wretch. With that he faced
forward, meaning to go round the corner of the house to greet the
cowboys and these new-found friends.
Dick had taken but one step when he was halted by laugher and the
patter of light feet.
From close around the corner pealed out that sweet voice. "Dad, you'll
have your wish, and mama will be wild!"
Dick saw a little foot sweep into view, a white dress, then the swiftly
moving form of a girl. She was looking backward.
"Dad, I shall fall in love with your new ranger. I will--I have--"
Then she plumped squarely into Dick's arms.
She started back violently.
Dick saw a fair face and dark-blue, audaciously flashing eyes. Swift as
lightning their expression changed to surprise, fear, wonder. For an
instant they were level with Dick's grave questioning. Suddenly,
sweetly, she blushed.
"Oh-h!" she faltered.
Then the blush turned to a scarlet fire. She whirled past him, and
like a white gleam was gone.
Dick became conscious of the quickened beating of his heart. He
experienced a singular exhilaration. That moment had been the one for
which he had been ripe, the event upon which strange circumstances had
been rushing him.
With a couple of strides he turned the corner. Laddy and Lash were
there talking to a man of burly form. Seen by day, both cowboys were
gray-haired, red-skinned, and weather-beaten, with lean, sharp
features, and gray eyes so much alike that they might have been
brothers.
"Hello, there's the young fellow," spoke up the burly man. "Mr. Gale,
I'm glad to meet you. My name's Belding."
His greeting was as warm as his handclasp was long and hard. Gale saw a
heavy man of medium height. His head was large and covered with
grizzled locks. He wore a short-cropped mustache and chin beard. His
skin was brown, and his dark eyes beamed with a genial light.
The cowboys were as cordial as if Dick had been their friend for years.
"Young man, did you run into anything as you came out?" asked Belding,
with twinkling eyes.
"Why, yes, I met something white and swift flying by," replied Dick.
"Did she see you?" asked Laddy.
"I think so; but she didn't wait for me to introduce myself."
"That was Nell Burton, my girl--step-daughter, I should say," said
Belding. "She's sure some whirlwind, as Laddy calls her. Come, let's
go in and meet the wife."
The house was long, like a barracks, with porch extending all the way,
and doors every dozen paces. When Dick was ushered into a
sitting-room, he was amazed at the light and comfort. This room had
two big windows and a door opening into a patio, where there were
luxuriant grass, roses in bloom, and flowering trees. He heard a slow
splashing of water.
In Mrs. Belding, Gale found a woman of noble proportions and striking
appearance. Her hair was white. She had a strong, serious, well-lined
face that bore haunting evidences of past beauty. The gaze she bent
upon him was almost piercing in its intensity. Her greeting, which
seemed to Dick rather slow in coming, was kind though not cordial.
Gale's first thought, after he had thanked these good people for their
hospitality, was to inquire about Mercedes. He was informed that the
Spanish girl had awakened with a considerable fever and nervousness.
When, however, her anxiety had been allayed and her thirst relieved,
she had fallen asleep again. Mrs. Belding said the girl had suffered
no great hardship, other than mental, and would very soon be rested and
well.
"Now, Gale," said Belding, when his wife had excused herself to get
supper, "the boys, Jim and Laddy, told me about you and the mix-up at
Casita. I'll be glad to take care of the girl till it's safe for your
soldier friend to get her out of the country. That won't be very soon,
don't mistake me.... I don't want to seem over-curious about you--Laddy
has interested me in you--and straight out I'd like to know what you
propose to do now."
"I haven't any plans," replied Dick; and, taking the moment as
propitious, he decided to speak frankly concerning himself. "I just
drifted down here. My home is in Chicago. When I left school some
years ago--I'm twenty-five now--I went to work for my father. He's--he
has business interests there. I tried all kinds of inside jobs. I
couldn't please my father. I guess I put no real heart in my work.
The fact was I didn't know how to work. The governor and I didn't
exactly quarrel; but he hurt my feelings, and I quit. Six months or
more ago I came West, and have knocked about from Wyoming southwest to
the border. I tried to find congenial work, but nothing came my way.
To tell you frankly, Mr. Belding, I suppose I didn't much care. I
believe, though, that all the time I didn't know what I wanted. I've
learned--well, just lately--"
"What do you want to do?" interposed Belding.
"I want a man's job. I want to do things with my hands. I want
action. I want to be outdoors."
Belding nodded his head as if he understood that, and he began to speak
again, cut something short, then went on, hesitatingly:
"Gale--you could go home again--to the old man--it'd be all right?"
"Mr. Belding, there's nothing shady in my past. The governor would be
glad to have me home. That's the only consolation I've got. But I'm
not going. I'm broke. I won't be a tramp. And it's up to me to do
something."
"How'd you like to be a border ranger?" asked Belding, laying a hand on
Dick's knee. "Part of my job here is United States Inspector of
Immigration. I've got that boundary line to patrol--to keep out Chinks
and Japs. This revolution has added complications, and I'm looking for
smugglers and raiders here any day. You'll not be hired by the U. S.
You'll simply be my ranger, same as Laddy and Jim, who have promised to
work for me. I'll pay you well, give you a room here, furnish
everything down to guns, and the finest horse you ever saw in your
life. Your job won't be safe and healthy, sometimes, but it'll be a
man's job--don't mistake me! You can gamble on having things to do
outdoors. Now, what do you say?"
"I accept, and I thank you--I can't say how much," replied Gale,
earnestly.
"Good! That's settled. Let's go out and tell Laddy and Jim."
Both boys expressed satisfaction at the turn of affairs, and then with
Belding they set out to take Gale around the ranch. The house and
several outbuildings were constructed of adobe, which, according to
Belding, retained the summer heat on into winter, and the winter cold
on into summer. These gray-red mud habitations were hideous to look
at, and this fact, perhaps, made their really comfortable interiors
more vividly a contrast. The wide grounds were covered with luxuriant
grass and flowers and different kinds of trees. Gale's interest led
him to ask about fig trees and pomegranates, and especially about a
beautiful specimen that Belding called palo verde.
Belding explained that the luxuriance of this desert place was owing to
a few springs and the dammed-up waters of the Rio Forlorn. Before he
had come to the oasis it had been inhabited by a Papago Indian tribe
and a few peon families. The oasis lay in an arroyo a mile wide, and
sloped southwest for some ten miles or more. The river went dry most of
the year; but enough water was stored in flood season to irrigate the
gardens and alfalfa fields.
"I've got one never-failing spring on my place," said Belding. "Fine,
sweet water! You know what that means in the desert. I like this
oasis. The longer I live here the better I like it. There's not a
spot in southern Arizona that'll compare with this valley for water or
grass or wood. It's beautiful and healthy. Forlorn and lonely, yes,
especially for women like my wife and Nell; but I like it.... And
between you and me, boys, I've got something up my sleeve. There's
gold dust in the arroyos, and there's mineral up in the mountains. If
we only had water! This hamlet has steadily grown since I took up a
station here. Why, Casita is no place beside Forlorn River. Pretty
soon the Southern Pacific will shoot a railroad branch out here. There
are possibilities, and I want you boys to stay with me and get in on
the ground floor. I wish this rebel war was over.... Well, here are
the corrals and the fields. Gale, take a look at that bunch of horses!"
Belding's last remark was made as he led his companions out of shady
gardens into the open. Gale saw an adobe shed and a huge pen fenced by
strangely twisted and contorted branches or trunks of mesquite, and,
beyond these, wide, flat fields, green--a dark, rich green--and dotted
with beautiful horses. There were whites and blacks, and bays and
grays. In his admiration Gale searched his memory to see if he could
remember the like of these magnificent animals, and had to admit that
the only ones he could compare with them were the Arabian steeds.
"Every ranch loves his horses," said Belding. "When I was in the
Panhandle I had some fine stock. But these are Mexican. They came
from Durango, where they were bred. Mexican horses are the finest in
the world, bar none."
"Shore I reckon I savvy why you don't sleep nights," drawled Laddy. "I
see a Greaser out there--no, it's an Indian."
"That's my Papago herdsman. I keep watch over the horses now day and
night. Lord, how I'd hate to have Rojas or Salazar--any of those
bandit rebels--find my horses!... Gale, can you ride?"
Dick modestly replied that he could, according to the Eastern idea of
horsemanship.
"You don't need to be half horse to ride one of that bunch. But over
there in the other field I've iron-jawed broncos I wouldn't want you to
tackle--except to see the fun. I've an outlaw I'll gamble even Laddy
can't ride."
"So. How much'll you gamble?" asked Laddy, instantly.
The ringing of a bell, which Belding said was a call to supper, turned
the men back toward the house. Facing that way, Gale saw dark,
beetling ridges rising from the oasis and leading up to bare, black
mountains. He had heard Belding call them No Name Mountains, and
somehow the appellation suited those lofty, mysterious, frowning peaks.
It was not until they reached the house and were about to go in that
Belding chanced to discover Gale's crippled hand.
"What an awful hand!" he exclaimed. "Where the devil did you get that?"
"I stove in my knuckles on Rojas," replied Dick.
"You did that in one punch? Say, I'm glad it wasn't me you hit! Why
didn't you tell me? That's a bad hand. Those cuts are full of dirt
and sand. Inflammation's setting in. It's got to be dressed. Nell!"
he called.
There was no answer. He called again, louder.
"Mother, where's the girl?"
"She's there in the dining-room," replied Mrs. Belding.
"Did she hear me?" he inquired, impatiently.
"Of course."
"Nell!" roared Belding.
This brought results. Dick saw a glimpse of golden hair and a white
dress in the door. But they were not visible longer than a second.
"Dad, what's the matter?" asked a voice that was still as sweet as
formerly, but now rather small and constrained.
"Bring the antiseptics, cotton, bandages--and things out here. Hurry
now."
Belding fetched a pail of water and a basin from the kitchen. His wife
followed him out, and, upon seeing Dick's hand, was all solicitude.
Then Dick heard light, quick footsteps, but he did not look up.
"Nell, this is Mr. Gale--Dick Gale, who came with the boys last last
night," said Belding. "He's got an awful hand. Got it punching that
greaser Rojas. I want you to dress it.... Gale, this is my
step-daughter, Nell Burton, of whom I spoke. She's some good when
there's somebody sick or hurt. Shove out your fist, my boy, and let
her get at it. Supper's nearly ready."
Dick felt that same strange, quickening heart throb, yet he had never
been cooler in his life. More than anything else in the world he
wanted to look at Nell Burton; however, divining that the situation
might be embarrassing to her, he refrained from looking up. She began
to bathe his injured knuckles. He noted the softness, the deftness of
her touch, and then it seemed her fingers were not quite as steady as
they might have been. Still, in a moment they appeared to become surer
in their work. She had beautiful hands, not too large, though
certainly not small, and they were strong, brown, supple. He observed
next, with stealthy, upward-stealing glance, that she had rolled up her
sleeves, exposing fine, round arms graceful in line. Her skin was
brown--no, it was more gold than brown. It had a wonderful clear tint.
Dick stoically lowered his eyes then, putting off as long as possible
the alluring moment when he was to look into her face. That would be a
fateful moment. He played with a certain strange joy of anticipation.
When, however, she sat down beside him and rested his injured hand in
her lap as she cut bandages, she was so thrillingly near that he
yielded to an irrepressible desire to look up. She had a sweet, fair
face warmly tinted with that same healthy golden-brown sunburn. Her
hair was light gold and abundant, a waving mass. Her eyes were shaded
by long, downcast lashes, yet through them he caught a gleam of blue.
Despite the stir within him, Gale, seeing she was now absorbed in her
task, critically studied her with a second closer gaze. She was a
sweet, wholesome, joyous, pretty girl.
"Shore it musta hurt?" replied Laddy, who sat an interested spectator.
"Yes, I confess it did," replied Dick, slowly, with his eyes on Nell's
face. "But I didn't mind."
The girl's lashes swept up swiftly in surprise. She had taken his
words literally. But the dark-blue eyes met his for only a fleeting
second. Then the warm tint in her cheeks turned as red as her lips.
Hurriedly she finished tying the bandage and rose to her feet.
"I thank you," said Gale, also rising.
With that Belding appeared in the doorway, and finding the operation
concluded, called them in to supper. Dick had the use of only one arm,
and he certainly was keenly aware of the shy, silent girl across the
table; but in spite of these considerable handicaps he eclipsed both
hungry cowboys in the assault upon Mrs. Belding's bounteous supper.
Belding talked, the cowboys talked more or less. Mrs. Belding put in a
word now and then, and Dick managed to find brief intervals when it was
possible for him to say yes or no. He observed gratefully that no one
round the table seemed to be aware of his enormous appetite.
After supper, having a favorable opportunity when for a moment no one
was at hand, Dick went out through the yard, past the gardens and
fields, and climbed the first knoll. From that vantage point he looked
out over the little hamlet, somewhat to his right, and was surprised at
its extent, its considerable number of adobe houses. The overhanging
mountains, ragged and darkening, a great heave of splintered rock,
rather chilled and affronted him.
Westward the setting sun gilded a spiked, frost-colored, limitless
expanse of desert. It awed Gale. Everywhere rose blunt, broken ranges
or isolated groups of mountains. Yet the desert stretched away down
between and beyond them. When the sun set and Gale could not see so
far, he felt a relief.
That grand and austere attraction of distance gone, he saw the desert
nearer at hand--the valley at his feet. What a strange gray, somber
place! There was a lighter strip of gray winding down between darker
hues. This he realized presently was the river bed, and he saw how the
pools of water narrowed and diminished in size till they lost
themselves in gray sand. This was the rainy season, near its end, and
here a little river struggled hopelessly, forlornly to live in the
desert. He received a potent impression of the nature of that blasted
age-worn waste which he had divined was to give him strength and work
and love.
V