He accepted her invitation rather awkwardly, but his face was impassive as
he looked down upon her.
"Well, how about it?" she asked. "What's doing in the town?"
"Not much of anything--except talk. The whole country is buzzing over this
dismissal of the Chief Forester."
"They'd better be doing something about that murder."
"They are; they're going up there in streams to see where the work was
done. The coroner's inquest was held yesterday." He grinned. "'Parties
came to their death by persons unknown.'"
Lize scowled. "It's a wonder they don't charge it up to Ross Cavanagh or
some other ranger."
"That would be a little too raw, even for this country. They're all
feeling gay over this change in the forestry head; but see here, don't you
want to get out for a ride? I've got my new machine out here; it rides
like silk."
"I reckon a hearse is about my kind," she replied, darkly. "If you could
take me up to Cavanagh's cabin, I'd go," she added. "I want to see him."
"I can take you part way," he instantly declared. "But you'd have to ride
a horse the last ten miles."
"Couldn't do it, Joe," she sighed. "These last few days I've been about as
boneless as an eel. Funny the way a fellow keeps going when he's got
something to do that has to be done. I'll tell you what, if you want to
take me and Lee up to Sulphur, I'll go ye."
"Sure thing. What day?"
"Not for a day or two. I'm not quite up to it just now; but by Saturday
I'll be saddle-wise again."
Joe turned joyously to Lee. "That will be great! Won't you come out for a
spin this minute?"
For a moment Lee was tempted. Anything to get away from this horrible
little den and the people who infested it was her feeling, but she
distrusted Gregg, and she knew that every eye in the town would be upon
her if she went, and, besides, Ross might return while she was away. "No,
not to-day," she replied, finally; but her voice was gentler than it had
ever been to him.
The young fellow was moved to explain his position to Lize. "You don't
think much of me, and I don't blame you. I haven't been much use so far,
but I'm going to reform. If I had a girl like Lee Virginia to live up to,
I'd make a great citizen. I don't lay my arrest up against Cavanagh. I'm
ready to pass that by. And as for this other business--this free-range war
in which the old man is mixed up--I want you to know that I'm against it.
Dad knows his day is short; that's what makes him so hot. But he's a
bluff--just a fussy old bluff. He knows he has no more right to the
Government grass than anybody else, but he's going to get ahead of the
cattle-men if he can."
"Does he know who burned them sheep-herders?"
"Of course he knows, but ain't going to say so. You see, that old Basque
who was killed was a monopolist, too. He went after that grass without
asking anybody's leave; moreover, he belonged to that Mexican-Dago outfit
that everybody hates. The old man isn't crying over that job; it's money
in his pocket. All the same it's too good a chance to put the hooks into
the cattle-men, hence his offering a reward, and it looks as if something
would really be done this time. They say Neill Ballard was mixed up in it,
and that old guy that showed me the sheep, but I don't take much stock in
that. Whoever did it was paid by the cattle-men, sure thing." The young
fellow's tone and bearing made a favorable impression upon Lize. She had
never seen this side of him, for the reason that he had hitherto treated
her as a bartender. She was acute enough to understand that her social
status had changed along with her release from the cash-register, and she
was slightly more reconciled, although she could not see her way to
providing a living for herself and Lee. For all these reasons she was
unwontedly civil to Joe, and sent him away highly elated with the success
of his interview.
"I'm going to let him take us up to Sulphur," she said to Lee. "I want to
go to town."
Lee was silent, but a keen pang ran through her heart, for she perceived
in this remark by her mother a tacit acknowledgment of Ross Cavanagh's
desertion of them both. His invitation to them to come and camp with him
was only a polite momentary impulse. "I'm ready to go," she announced, at
last. "I'm tired of this place. Let us go to-morrow."
On the following morning, while they were busy packing for this journey,
Redfield rolled up to the door in company with a young man in the uniform
of a forester.
"Go ask Reddy to come in," commanded Lize. "I want to see him."
Redfield met the girl at the door and presented his companion as "Mr.
Dalton, District Forester." Dalton was a tall young fellow with a marked
Southern accent. "Is Cavanagh, the ranger, in town?" he asked.
"No," Lee replied, with effort; "he was here a few days ago, but he's gone
back to the forest."
Redfield studied the girl with keen gaze, perceiving a passionate
restraint in her face.
"How is your mother?" he asked, politely.
Lee smiled faintly. "She's able to sit up. Won't you come in and see
her?"
"With pleasure," assented Redfield, "but I want to see you alone. I have
something to say to you." He turned to his superior. "Just go into the
café, Dalton. I'll see you in a moment."
Lee Virginia, hitherto ashamed of the house, the furniture, the
bed--everything--led the way without a word of apology. It was all
detached now, something about to be left behind, like a bad garment
borrowed in a time of stress. Nothing mattered since Ross did not return.
Lize, looking unwontedly refined and gentle, was sitting in a big
rocking-chair with her feet on a stool, her eyes fixed on the mountains,
which showed through the open window. All the morning a sense of profound
change, of something passing, had oppressed her. Now that she was about to
leave the valley, its charm appealed to her. She was tearing up a
multitude of tiny roots of whose existence she had hitherto remained
unaware. "I belong here," she acknowledged, silently. "I'd be homesick
anywhere else on God's earth. It's rough and fly-bit, and all that, but so
am I. I wouldn't fit in anywhere that Lee belonged."
She acknowledged an especial liking for Redfield, and she had penetration
enough, worldly wisdom enough, to know that Lee belonged more to his world
than to her own, and that his guidance and friendship were worth more,
much more, than that of all the rest of the country, her own included.
Therefore, she said: "I'm mighty glad to see you, Reddy. Sit down. You've
got to hear my little spiel this time."
Redfield, perched on the edge of a tawdry chair, looked about (like the
charity visitor in a slum kitchen) without intending to express disgust;
but it was a dismal room in which to be sick, and he pitied the woman the
more profoundly as he remembered her in the days when "all out-doors" was
none too wide for her.
Lize began, abruptly: "I'm down, but not out; in fact, I was coming up to
see you this afternoon. Lee and I are just about pulling out for good."
"Indeed! Why not go back with me?"
"You can take the girl back if you want to, but now that I'm getting my
chance at you I may not go."
Redfield's tone was entirely cordial as he turned to Lee. "I came hoping
to carry you away. Will you come?"
"I'm afraid I can't unless mother goes," she replied, sadly.
Lize waved an imperative hand. "Fade away, child. I want to talk with Mr.
Redfield alone. Go, see!"
Thus dismissed, Lee went back to the restaurant, where she found the
Forester just sitting down to his luncheon. "Mr. Redfield will be out in a
few minutes," she explained.
"Won't you join me?" he asked, in the frank accent of one to whom women
are comrades. "The Supervisor has been telling me about you."
She took a seat facing him, feeling something refined in his long,
smoothly shaven, boyish face. He seemed very young to be District
Forester, and his eyes were a soft brown with small wrinkles of laughter
playing round their corners.
He began at once on the subject of his visit. "Redfield tells me you are a
friend of Mr. Cavanagh's; did you know that he had resigned?"