THE WOLF JOKE
Billy Louise stayed all night. She was afraid to leave Ward until his
cold was safely better, and there was no one living near enough to
summon; no one whom she wanted to summon, in fact, however close they
might have been. She spent most of the night curled comfortably on the
wolf-skins beside the stove, with a sack of flour for a pillow and
Ward's fur coat for covering. Ward slept more unbrokenly than he had
done for a long time, while Billy Louise lay cuddled under the smelly
fur and thought and thought.
In the morning, if Ward were well enough, she meant to ask him about
those cattle he had mentioned when he thought her Buck Olney. They
were the same ones which she had seen in the Cove, she knew. Ward had
told enough to prove that. He had, in fact, told nearly all she needed
to know--except the mystery of his prosperity. He had not mentioned
that, and Billy Louise was more curious than ever about his "wolf
hunting."
At sunrise she rebuilt the fire and made fresh coffee and a stew from
the pieces of jerky she had soaked overnight for the purpose. She
wanted eggs, and bread for toast, and fresh cream; but she did not have
them, and so she managed a very creditable breakfast for her patient
without these desirables.
"Say, that's great. A fellow doesn't appreciate coffee and warm food
until he's eaten out of cans and boxes for a month or so. You're a
great little lady, Wilhemina. I wish you'd happened along
sooner--about six weeks sooner. I'd have got some pleasure out of my
broken leg then, maybe."
"Was it--did Buck Olney break it?" Billy Louise knew he had not, but
she had been waiting for a chance to open the subject.
"No. I broke it myself, pulling Rattler off a bank into some rocks. I
believe I could walk on it, doctor, if you could rustle me something to
use for crutches. That's what held me in bed so long. Beckon you
could manufacture a pair for me?" His eyes made love. "You've done
everything else." He caught her hand and kissed the palm of it.
"Can't the Billy part turn carpenter?"
"I'll see. Say, Ward, do you think you could shave off those whiskers
if I got everything ready for you? I don't like you to look like old
Sourdough. Or maybe I could do it. I--I used to shave daddy's neck,
sometimes."
Ward ran his fingers thoughtfully over his hairy cheeks. "I expect I
do look like a prehistoric ancestor. I'll see what I can do about it.
I set my own leg; I guess I can shave myself. You're a great doctor,
Wilhemina. You knocked that cold up to a peak, all right. But--I
don't believe you'd better tackle barbering, my dear girl."
Billy Louise pouted her lips at him. She could afford to pout now:
Ward was so like himself that she did not worry over him at all. She
also felt that she could afford to badger him into telling her some of
the things she wanted to know.
"Where did you hang Buck?" she asked naïvely.
"Huh?" Ward's eyes bored into hers with his intent look, trying to
read her thoughts.
"Where was it you hanged Buck Olney?"
"Nowhere. I put the fear of the Lord into him, that's all. How did
you hear about it?"
"From you." Billy Louise was maddeningly calm. "You told me all about
it yesterday. And about those cattle in the corral up here. I found
them yesterday myself, Ward--only it seems a month ago!--down in the
Cove."
"Did you?"
"Yes, and I drove them up to the corral and read the riot act to Marthy
and Charlie Fox--"
"Huh! What did they say?"
"Oh, they denied it, of course! What are we going to do about it,
Ward?"
"Nothing, I guess. What did you want to do?"
"I don't know. I don't want to hurt them, and I don't want them to
hurt anyone else. Do you know Seabeck? He's an awfully square old
fellow. I believe--" An idea formed vaguely in the back of Billy
Louise's mind. "I believe I could persuade him--"
"I believe you could persuade the devil himself, if you took a notion
to try," Ward affirmed sincerely, when she hesitated. "What do you
want to persuade him into?"
"Oh, nothing, I guess! How do you feel, Ward? We've got to stick to
the job of getting you fit to leave here and go on down to the ranch
with me. When do you think you could manage to ride?"
Ward looked longingly out of the window, just as he had been looking
for six weeks. "I think I could manage it now," he said doggedly,
because of his great longing. "I set my own leg--"
"Yes, and I'm willing to admit you're a wonder, and have gotten the
stoics beaten at their own game. Still, there's a limit to what the
human body will stand. I'm going down to tend the horses, and if you
think you can walk without hurting your leg, I'll hunt some forked
sticks for crutches. We'll see how you make out with them, first,
before we talk about riding twenty miles on horseback. Besides, you'd
catch more cold if you went out to-day."
While she talked, her plans took definite shape in the back of her
mind. She took Buck Olney's knife that was lying on the window-sill
and went in search of crutches among the willows along the creek.
Forked sticks were plentiful enough, but it was not so easy to find two
that would support even so skinny a man as Ward. She compromised by
cutting four that seemed suitable and binding them together in couples.
When she went in with her makeshifts, Ward was sitting upon the side of
the bunk, clothed and in his right mind--but pitifully wobbly and
ashamed of his weakness.
"You shouldn't have tried to get up yet," she scolded. "Do you want to
be worse, so I'll have to cure you all over again?" Then, woman-like,
she proceeded to annul the effect by petting and sympathy.
It was while she was sitting in the one chair, padding the sticks
crudely enough but effectively, that Ward, gazing at her with the light
of love in his eyes, thought of something he had meant to tell her.
"Oh, by the way, I've got something for you, Wilhemina," he said. "Put
down that thing and come over here. I want to shave before I take a
try at walking, anyway. See here, lady-mine. How would you like these
strung on a gold chain?"
From under his pillow he drew out a tobacco sack and emptied the
contents into her palm. "Those are your Christmas present, Bill-Loo.
Like 'em?"
"Do I!" Billy Louise held up the biggest one and stared at it
round-eyed. "Gold nuggets! Where in the world--"
"That's what I'm going to tell you--now you're through being just pals.
Oh, I'd have told you, anyway, I reckon, only the play never came
right, after that first little squabble we had over it." He put an arm
around her, pulled her down beside him, and rubbed his bristly chin
over her hair. "That's the wolf joke, William. I did make a lot of
money wolfing--on the square. I dug out a den of pups and struck a
little pocket of pretty rich gravel. I've been busy panning it out all
the time I could spare, till the creek froze up."
"You found a gold mine?" Billy Louise gasped. "Why, whoever would have
thought--"
"Oh, I wouldn't call it a gold mine, exactly," he hastened to assure
her, before her imagination dazzled her. "There isn't enough of it.
It's just a pocket. I've cleaned up about eighteen hundred dollars,
this summer, besides these nuggets. Maybe more. And there's some left
yet. I found both ends of the streak; it lies along a ledge on the
side of a gully. I couldn't find anything except in that one streak of
gravel; and when that's gone she's done, as near as I can figure. But
it isn't all gone yet, lady mine. There's enough left to pay the
preacher, anyway. That big fellow I found along toward the last, just
before I quit working." He kissed her gravely. "Poor old girl! She's
dead game, all right, and she's kind of had the cards stacked against
her from the start. But things are going to come easier from now on,
if I'm any prophet. It's too bad--"
Billy Louise read his thought.
"Mommie looked so peaceful, Ward. At the last, I mean. If I could
have waked her up, I don't believe I'd have had the heart to do it.
She never was very happy; you know that. She couldn't seem to see the
happiness in little things. So many are like that. And she looked
happier--at the last--than I ever saw her look before. So--I'm
happier, too--since yesterday."
"Are you?" Ward dropped his face against her hair and held it there
for a minute. It was not his cold altogether that had made his voice
break hoarsely over those two words.
"Do you know--" Billy Louise was lifting the nuggets one after the
other and letting them drop to her lap--"happiness is like gold, Ward.
We've got to pan it out of life ourselves. If we try to steal it from
someone else, we pay the penalty, don't you think? And so many go
looking and looking for great big chunks of it all--all--whatever they
do to it." She laughed a little at her ignorance of the technical
process. "You see what I mean, don't you? We get a streak of gravel;
that's life. And we can pan out happiness if we try--little nuggets
and sometimes just colors--but it keeps us hoping and working."
"Doctor of philosophy!" Ward kissed her hair. "You're a great little
girl, all right. And I'm the buckaroo that has struck a mighty rich
streak of pay dirt in life, Wilhemina. I'm panning out happiness
millions to the pan right now."
Billy Louise, attacked with a spasm of shyness, went abruptly back to
padding the makeshift crutches and changed the subject.
"I'm going home, soon as I fix you comfy," she said.
Whereupon Ward protested most strenuously and did not look in the least
like a man who has just announced himself a millionaire in happiness.
"What for?" he demanded, after he had exhausted himself to no purpose
in telling her that she should not leave the cabin until he could go
along.
"I want eggs--for you, you ungrateful beast. And some bread for toast.
And I want to tell Phoebe and John where I am."
"You think those Injuns are going to hurt themselves worrying? I don't
want any eggs and toast. I've managed all right on crackers and jerky
for six weeks, so I guess I can stand it a few hours longer. Still, if
you're crazy to go--" He dropped back on the pillow and turned his
face away.
Billy Louise worked silently until she had made the crutches as soft on
top as she could. Then she hunted for Ward's razor and shaving-cup and
after one or two failures--through using too much water--she managed to
make a cup of very nice lather.
"Now, buckaroo, don't be a sulky kid," she said, firmly as she could.
"You know it's hard enough for me to go off and leave you here like
this. But, as you say, you've managed to get along for six weeks
without me, so--"
"Sure. I could do it again, I reckon." Ward turned a gloomy pair of
eyes upon her. "What's the rush? Do you think it isn't proper--"
"It's always proper to do what is right and helpful and kind," said
Billy Louise with dignity, because she had made up her mind and was
trying not to weaken. "I've lived in this country all my life, and I
guess my reputation will stand this little strain," she went on
lightly, "even if anyone finds it out. I've got to go, that's all.
Those people in the Cove--" It was eloquent of her stern justice that
she could not bring herself to speak them by name.
"You aren't going to turn them over to the sheriff, are you, William?
Good Lord, girl! If I can--"
"Your lather is getting cold," Billy Louise said evenly. "I ought to
have known better than mention the subject at all. I'm going to do
what's right. I believe I have some faint idea of right and wrong,
Ward Warren. And I'm not going to do anything that I don't feel is
right, or anything that I'll be sorry for. You might trust me, I
think. It's early yet--"
"You'll come back before night, won't you?" From his tone, Ward had
yielded the point--and was minded to yield with what graciousness he
could command. It had occurred to him that he was behaving like a
selfish booby. Billy Louise should not call him weak-kneed; whatever
happened.
"No, I don't think I can, Ward. I might send John."
"You needn't bother. I don't want John."
"Well, I don't suppose he would be much comfort. I'll make a pot of
coffee, Ward, and I'll fill the lantern and fix it so you can heat a
cup when you want to; how will that be?" She brightened a little at
the idea. "And I'll fix your lungs up again before I go and bake some
nice, hot biscuits and put here, and butter, and fix you just as comfy
as possible. Or, if you can manage to get around with the crutches,
all the better. I'll leave things so you won't have to go outside for
a thing.
"And, Ward"--she bent over him anxiously--"I'm going because I must.
For all our sakes I must go right away. And I'll come back to-morrow
just as early as I can get here. So if you are real good, and take
care of your cold, and get a little strong about walking, you can go
back with me. And to-morrow night you can sit in daddy's chair before
the fireplace, and we'll have chicken and--"
"All right--all right!" Ward laughed suddenly. "Will you give me a
lump of sugar and let me look at all the pitty pittys in the album?
Oh, you William the Conqueror!" He caught her close, when he saw that
he had hurt her feelings a little, and held her a minute. "When I get
two good legs under me, Wilhemina," he promised softly, "I'm going to
stake myself to the job of taking care of you. Your cheeks are pretty
thin, little lady-girl. Damn the luck, anyway!"
"Here's the lather. I'm going down and saddle up," said Billy Louise.
"When I come back, we'll see how the crutches work."
"Oh, say!" Ward called after her. "My saddle's behind a buck bush up
along the trail where the bank is cut straight. I forgot about that.
And would you mind bringing the looking-glass, William? How the deuce
do you think a man's going to shave without a glass? And that old
paper to wipe the lather on, while you're at it. I see the Billy of
you hasn't got to the shaving-point yet, at any rate!"
Billy Louise took down the glass and flung it on the bed, threw the
newspaper after it, and departed with her chin in the air to find his
saddle and bridle and carry them to the stable.
Ward, sitting up in bed, stared at the closed door remorsefully. When
he was convinced that she did not intend to return even for the last
word which is so tempting to a woman, he reached for the glass, held it
up, and looked within.
"Sufferin' saddle blankets!" he grunted and dropped the glass. "And
she could kiss a mug like that!"