NO man ever had a more eloquent and beautiful pleader for his cause
than had Dick Gale in Mercedes Castaneda. He peeped through the green,
shining twigs of the palo verde that shaded his door. The hour was
high noon, and the patio was sultry. The only sounds were the hum of
bees in the flowers and the low murmur of the Spanish girl's melodious
voice. Nell lay in the hammock, her hands behind her head, with rosy
cheeks and arch eyes. Indeed, she looked rebellious. Certain it was,
Dick reflected, that the young lady had fully recovered the wilful
personality which had lain dormant for a while. Equally certain it
seemed that Mercedes's earnestness was not apparently having the effect
it should have had.
Dick was inclined to be rebellious himself. Belding had kept the
rangers in off the line, and therefore Dick had been idle most of the
time, and, though he tried hard, he had been unable to stay far from
Nell's vicinity. He believed she cared for him; but he could not catch
her alone long enough to verify his tormenting hope. When alone she
was as illusive as a shadow, as quick as a flash, as mysterious as a
Yaqui. When he tried to catch her in the garden or fields, or corner
her in the patio, she eluded him, and left behind a memory of
dark-blue, haunting eyes. It was that look in her eyes which lent him
hope. At other times, when it might have been possible for Dick to
speak, Nell clung closely to Mercedes. He had long before enlisted the
loyal Mercedes in his cause; but in spite of this Nell had been more
than a match for them both.
Gale pondered over an idea he had long revolved in mind, and which now
suddenly gave place to a decision that made his heart swell and his
cheek burn. He peeped again through the green branches to see Nell
laughing at the fiery Mercedes.
"Qui'en sabe," he called, mockingly, and was delighted with Nell's
quick, amazed start.
Then he went in search of Mrs. Belding, and found her busy in the
kitchen. The relation between Gale and Mrs. Belding had subtly and
incomprehensively changed. He understood her less than when at first
he divined an antagonism in her. If such a thing were possible she had
retained the antagonism while seeming to yield to some influence that
must have been fondness for him. Gale was in no wise sure of her
affection, and he had long imagined she was afraid of him, or of
something that he represented. He had gone on, openly and fairly,
though discreetly, with his rather one-sided love affair; and as time
passed he had grown less conscious of what had seemed her unspoken
opposition. Gale had come to care greatly for Nell's mother. Not only
was she the comfort and strength of her home, but also of the
inhabitants of Forlorn River. Indian, Mexican, American were all the
same to her in trouble or illness; and then she was nurse, doctor,
peacemaker, helper. She was good and noble, and there was not a child
or grownup in Forlorn River who did not love and bless her. But Mrs.
Belding did not seem happy. She was brooding, intense, deep, strong,
eager for the happiness and welfare of others; and she was dominated by
a worship of her daughter that was as strange as it was pathetic. Mrs.
Belding seldom smiled, and never laughed. There was always a soft, sad,
hurt look in her eyes. Gale often wondered if there had been other
tragedy in her life than the supposed loss of her father in the desert.
Perhaps it was the very unsolved nature of that loss which made it
haunting.
Mrs. Belding heard Dick's step as he entered the kitchen, and, looking
up, greeted him.
"Mother," began Dick, earnestly. Belding called her that, and so did
Ladd and Lash, but it was the first time for Dick. "Mother--I want to
speak to you."
The only indication Mrs. Belding gave of being started was in her eyes,
which darkened, shadowed with multiplying thought.
"I love Nell," went on Dick, simply, "and I want you to let me ask her
to be my wife."
Mrs. Belding's face blanched to a deathly white. Gale, thinking with
surprise and concern that she was going to faint, moved quickly toward
her, took her arm.
"Forgive me. I was blunt.... But I thought you knew."
"I've known for a long time," replied Mrs. Belding. Her voice was
steady, and there was no evidence of agitation except in her pallor.
"Then you--you haven't spoken to Nell?"
Dick laughed. "I've been trying to get a chance to tell her. I
haven't had it yet. But she knows. There are other ways besides
speech. And Mercedes has told her. I hope, I almost believe Nell
cares a little for me."
"I've known that, too, for a long time," said Mrs. Belding, low almost
as a whisper.
"You know!" cried Dick, with a glow and rush of feeling.
"Dick, you must be very blind not to see what has been plain to all of
us.... I guess--it couldn't have been helped. You're a splendid
fellow. No wonder she loves you."
"Mother! You'll give her to me?"
She drew him to the light and looked with strange, piercing intentness
into his face. Gale had never dreamed a woman's eyes could hold such a
world of thought and feeling. It seemed all the sweetness of life was
there, and all the pain.
"Do you love her?" she asked.
"With all my heart."
"You want to marry her?"
"Ah, I want to! As much as I want to live and work for her."
"When would you marry her?"
"Why!... Just as soon as she will do it. To-morrow!" Dick gave a wild,
exultant little laugh.
"Dick Gale, you want my Nell? You love her just as she is--her
sweetness--her goodness? Just herself, body and soul?... There's
nothing could change you--nothing?"
"Dear Mrs. Belding, I love Nell for herself. If she loves me I'll be
the happiest of men. There's absolutely nothing that could make any
difference in me."
"But your people? Oh, Dick, you come of a proud family. I can tell.
I--I once knew a young man like you. A few months can't change
pride--blood. Years can't change them. You've become a ranger. You
love the adventure--the wild life. That won't last. Perhaps you'll
settle down to ranching. I know you love the West. But, Dick, there's
your family--"
"If you want to know anything about my family, I'll tell you,"
interrupted Dick, with strong feeling. "I've not secrets about them or
myself. My future and happiness are Nell's to make. No one else shall
count with me."
"Then, Dick--you may have her. God--bless--you--both."
Mrs. Belding's strained face underwent a swift and mobile relaxation,
and suddenly she was weeping in strangely mingled happiness and
bitterness.
"Why, mother!" Gale could say no more. He did not comprehend a mood
seemingly so utterly at variance with Mrs. Belding's habitual
temperament. But he put his arm around her. In another moment she had
gained command over herself, and, kissing him, she pushed him out of
the door.
"There! Go tell her, Dick... And have some spunk about it!"
Gale went thoughtfully back to his room. He vowed that he would answer
for Nell's happiness, if he had the wonderful good fortune to win her.
Then remembering the hope Mrs. Belding had given him, Dick lost his
gravity in a flash, and something began to dance and ring within him.
He simply could not keep his steps turned from the patio. Every path
led there. His blood was throbbing, his hopes mounting, his spirit
soaring. He knew he had never before entered the patio with that
inspirited presence.
"Now for some spunk!" he said, under his breath.
Plainly he meant his merry whistle and his buoyant step to interrupt
this first languorous stage of the siesta which the girls always took
during the hot hours. Nell had acquired the habit long before Mercedes
came to show how fixed a thing it was in the life of the tropics. But
neither girl heard him. Mercedes lay under the palo verde, her
beautiful head dark and still upon a cushion. Nell was asleep in the
hammock. There was an abandonment in her deep repose, and a faint
smile upon her face. Her sweet, red lips, with the soft, perfect
curve, had always fascinated Dick, and now drew him irresistibly. He
had always been consumed with a desire to kiss her, and now he was
overwhelmed with his opportunity. It would be a terrible thing to do,
but if she did not awaken at once-- No, he would fight the temptation.
That would be more than spunk. It would-- Suddenly an ugly green fly
sailed low over Nell, appeared about to alight on her. Noiselessly
Dick stepped close to the hammock bent under the tree, and with a sweep
of his hand chased the intruding fly away. But he found himself
powerless to straighten up. He was close to her--bending over her
face--near the sweet lips. The insolent, dreaming smile just parted
them. Then he thought he was lost. But she stirred--he feared she
would awaken.
He had stepped back erect when she opened her eyes. They were sleepy,
yet surprised until she saw him. Then she was wide awake in a second,
bewildered, uncertain.
"Why--you here?" she asked, slowly.
"Large as life!" replied Dick, with unusual gayety.
"How long have you been here?"
"Just got here this fraction of a second," he replied, lying
shamelessly.
It was evident that she did not know whether or not to believe him, and
as she studied him a slow blush dyed her cheek.
"You are absolutely truthful when you say you just stepped there?"
"Why, of course," answered Dick, right glad he did not have to lie
about that.
"I thought--I was--dreaming," she said, and evidently the sound of her
voice reassured her.
"Yes, you looked as if you were having pleasant dreams," replied Dick.
"So sorry to wake you. I can't see how I came to do it, I was so
quiet. Mercedes didn't wake. Well, I'll go and let you have your
siesta and dreams."
But he did not move to go. Nell regarded him with curious, speculative
eyes.
"Isn't it a lovely day?" queried Dick.
"I think it's hot."
"Only ninety in the shade. And you've told me the mercury goes to one
hundred and thirty in midsummer. This is just a glorious golden day."
"Yesterday was finer, but you didn't notice it."
"Oh, yesterday was somewhere back in the past--the inconsequential
past."
Nell's sleepy blue eyes opened a little wider. She did not know what
to make of this changed young man. Dick felt gleeful and tried hard to
keep the fact from becoming manifest.
"What's the inconsequential past? You seem remarkably happy to-day."
"I certainly am happy. Adios. Pleasant dreams."
Dick turned away then and left the patio by the opening into the yard.
Nell was really sleepy, and when she had fallen asleep again he would
return. He walked around for a while. Belding and the rangers were
shoeing a broncho. Yaqui was in the field with the horses. Blanco Sol
grazed contently, and now and then lifted his head to watch. His long
ears went up at sight of his master, and he whistled. Presently Dick,
as if magnet-drawn, retraced his steps to the patio and entered
noiselessly.
Nell was now deep in her siesta. She was inert, relaxed, untroubled by
dreams. Her hair was damp on her brow.
Again Nell stirred, and gradually awakened. Her eyes unclosed, humid,
shadowy, unconscious. They rested upon Dick for a moment before they
became clear and comprehensive. He stood back fully ten feet from her,
and to all outside appearances regarded her calmly.
"I've interrupted your siesta again," he said. "Please forgive me.
I'll take myself off."
He wandered away, and when it became impossible for him to stay away
any longer he returned to the patio.
The instant his glance rested upon Nell's face he divined she was
feigning sleep. The faint rose-blush had paled. The warm, rich,
golden tint of her skin had fled. Dick dropped upon his knees and bent
over her. Though his blood was churning in his veins, his breast
laboring, his mind whirling with the wonder of that moment and its
promise, he made himself deliberate. He wanted more than anything he
had ever wanted in his life to see if she would keep up that pretense
of sleep and let him kiss her. She must have felt his breath, for her
hair waved off her brow. Her cheeks were now white. Her breast swelled
and sank. He bent down closer--closer. But he must have been
maddeningly slow, for as he bent still closer Nell's eyes opened, and
he caught a swift purple gaze of eyes as she whirled her head. Then,
with a little cry, she rose and fled.
X