Hope's anxiety to reach the ranch could not have been great, for she
walked slowly along the dark, gray stretch of road, vaguely dreaming the
while, and offering excuses to herself for not having accepted
Livingston's invitation. She managed to find several reasons. First, it
would have been too crowded; second, Sydney had brought the horse, and
was probably waiting to see her; third, she had no particular desire to
go, because he had so obviously wanted her to do so. Finally, after
weighing all her excuses, she was obliged to admit that the only thing
that really troubled her was Livingston's evident unconcern at her
refusal to accompany them.
She had reached a point in her life where self-analysis was fast
becoming an interesting study. At present it struck her as being
amusing.
The clatter of hoofs and a wild whoop brought her out of her absorbing
study, as down the nearest side-hill the twins raced pell-mell, the
pinto pony leading the stylish Dude by half a length. They drew up
suddenly in the road beside her.
"Now you can see fer yourself that that Dude cayuse of Dave's ain't in
it with my pinto!" exclaimed the soft-voiced twin.
"What'er you givin' us!" shouted Dave. "Just hear him brag about that
spotted cayuse of his'n! 'Twasn't no even race at all. He had 'bout a
mile the start!"
"Oh, come off your perch!" retorted the other sweetly.
"Where are you boys going?" asked Hope.
"Nowheres. We seen you from the top of the divide, an' I thought I'd
just show you what was in Pinto. He's all right--you bet! Ain't you, old
man?" said the boy, pulling his pony's mane affectionately.
"Oh, _I_ wasn't tryin' to show off!" exclaimed Dave. "But just give me
a level road an' I'll beat you all to pieces!"
"Where have you been?" inquired Hope.
The boys looked at each other in a sheepish manner.
"I'm going to guess," said the girl suspiciously, "and if I am right
you'll have to own up. In the first place your father sent you out to
bring in those cows and calves over near old Peter's basin. Instead of
that you went on farther and found a camp. You went in one of the tents
and ate some dried blackberry pie, instead of bringing in the cattle.
Now, isn't that so?"
Dave looked dumfounded.
"I don't see how you knew that when you wasn't along! Gee, you must know
things like grandmother White Blanket!" he exclaimed.
The soft-voiced twin began to laugh. "I told you that you was gettin'
more o' that pie on your face 'n you was in your mouth!" he exclaimed,
whereupon the other quickly turned away his besmeared countenance,
proceeding to wipe it vigorously with the sleeve of his coat.
"Have you got your bounty yet for the coyotes you dug out of the hill?"
asked Hope, to allay his discomfort. She glanced sideways at the
soft-voiced twin, who assumed his most docile, innocent expression, and
rode on ahead. It had become a sore subject with him. Suddenly giving a
wild whoop he spurred up his pinto and dashed in among the assortment of
tents, bringing to the entrance of her abode old Mother White Blanket,
who hurled after him numerous blood-curdling, Indian invectives. Then
she covered her yellow prongs of teeth under a wrinkled lip and scowled
fiercely at Hope as she passed along the road, causing the breed boy to
say:
"The old woman's got it in fer you, I reckon. But don't you care, she
ain't so all-fired smart as she makes out to be!"
"I'm not afraid of her," replied Hope. "She suspects me of having had a
hand in the shooting that night at the sheep-corrals up there, and in
consequence has a very bad heart for me. Now how could she think such a
thing as that? I don't believe she's much of a witch, though, because
when she gets in one of her fits of passion she'd ride off on a
broomstick if she were."
"She's got eyes like a hawk," said the boy, "always seem' everything
that's goin' on."
"She don't miss much, that's sure," mused Hope, as they passed by the
house and approached the corrals. There the soft-voiced twin was talking
with Carter, praising, enthusiastically, the points of his pinto cayuse,
and comparing it with the blooded saddle horse which Sydney had just
brought from Hathaway's home-ranch at Hope's request. The boy never knew
just how his statements were received, for at sight of Hope the young
man went out into the road to meet her.
She welcomed him with a quick smile, which a year previous would have
been accompanied by a sisterly kiss. Carter noted its omission this day
with singular impatience. How long, he wondered, before she would forget
his foolishness. It occurred to him then, that in spite of her
girlishness she was very much a woman, and his actions toward her, which
now he most heartily regretted, had ignited a spark of self-consciousness
in her nature, raising an effective barrier between them that only time
could wear away.
"I expected Jim with the horse instead of you, Sydney," she said. "How
did it happen?"
"A lot of men are up with the trail herds, and your father needed Jim to
help pay them off, so I brought the horse instead. Jim will be back in a
couple of days," he explained.
"You went down to the ranch, then, with him yesterday evening, I
suppose," said Hope. "What are they all doing there?"
"It looks just as it did any evening last summer, if you happened to
drop in on them. Little Freddie Rosehill thumping away at the piano and
singing bass from the soles of his feet, that tallest Cresmond girl,
with the red hair, yelling falsetto, and the others joining in when they
got the chance. Then down at the other end of the room the usual card
table--your father, mother, Clarice, and O'Hara, and father and mother
Cresmond watching the game and listening to the warbling of their
offspring."
"Is _Larry O'Hara_ there?" asked Hope in surprise. "I thought he was not
coming this year."
"Don't you ever think O'Hara is going to give you up as easy as that,"
replied Sydney, laughing. "He just got there yesterday, and was in the
depths of despair when he discovered you had flown. He told Clarice he
was coming over here to see you as soon as he could decently get away.
His mother's with him, which makes that proposition a little more
awkward for him than if he were alone. It was late when I got there and
I didn't have time to change my clothes, so I just walked in on them in
this outfit. But they seemed pretty glad to see me."
"I'll bet they nearly smothered you with welcome! I can just see them,"
said Hope. "That Lily Cresmond with the red hair always was so
demonstrative to you, Syd. I'm sorry O'Hara is there, and Clarice Van
Renssalaer, too--or rather, I mean, I'm sorry only because they are
there that I am not at home, for I like them; but I'm not very sorry
either, Syd. I'd rather be up here in the mountains, free like this,
with my poor little Louisa, and you and Jim camping over the hills
there, than stifling in the atmosphere of those New York people."
"You're a queer girl, Hope, but I don't believe I blame you much. I was
glad to leave this morning and head my horse this way."
"Did father--ask about me?" she inquired hesitatingly.
"He didn't lose any time in getting me off alone and questioning me for
about an hour," he replied. "He misses you, Hope."
"Poor father--poor old Dad!" exclaimed the girl softly. Then with a
peculiar motion of her head and shoulders, as if throwing off a load,
she remarked firmly: "But that makes no difference. I am glad, anyway,
to be here. I have you and Jim so near, and my dear little German
girl--and perfect freedom!"
"And you have Livingston to take the place of O'Hara," he returned, "and
there is nothing lacking, as far as I can see, except a good cook in the
Harris family."
"Mr. Livingston is nothing to me," replied Hope quickly, "and he doesn't
care anything for me, if that is what you mean to imply." Her eyes
flashed and she spoke with unusual sharpness.
"We can't afford to quarrel, Hope," exclaimed Carter. Then, putting his
hand upon her shoulder, said very earnestly: "I was just joking, and
didn't mean to imply anything, so don't be angry with me. Besides, it
won't do. It's near noon and I was going to suggest that we go over to
camp and have William get us up a good dinner, and then we'll go
fishing. What do you say? You can invite your breed brigade; they look
hungry," pointing to the two boys sitting on the ground in the shade of
a log barn, their knees drawn up under their chins.
"Oh, I don't mind what you say, Syd, dear," she said abruptly. "I
believe I am getting to be quite as foolish as other people, to be
offended so easily. I should as soon expect you to turn upon me in wrath
if I told you to look out for little Louisa."
"Poor little Louisa," he exclaimed. "Where is she?"
"We went up the road for a walk, and Mr. Livingston drove along and took
her up to see her Fritz's grave," she explained.
"Now then, my girl, _you_ look out for Louisa! There's nothing like
consoling grief to bring two hearts close together. How did you ever
come to allow him to carry her away up there and do the consolation act?
You'll sure lose him now! I thought you had more diplomacy!"
She laughed a little.
"Unless a man loved me with every atom of his being, with his whole
life, I couldn't feel the least attraction for him in _that_ way," she
said. "That is the way I have planned for the _one_ man to love, my
ideal man, Syd. When such a man comes along I shall love him, but I very
much fear he does not exist."
"Then you're doomed to die an old maid, Hope! But don't you think O'Hara
entertains that kind of affection for you?"
"Do you know, I have a perfect horror of being an old maid. Probably
I'll outgrow it. O'Hara? No, indeed! He'll get over it soon enough, and
think just as much of some other girl. He's a nice boy, a good friend,
but he isn't just my idea of what a man should be."
"I'm afraid you're doomed, Hope," said her cousin, shaking his head
solemnly. "What will you do, spend your lonely maidenhood out here on
the prairie, or take a life interest in some Old Ladies' Home?"
"Did you say something about going up to camp?" she asked. "But I ought
to wait for Louisa; she should be back now."
"I've ridden twenty miles this morning, and the consequence is my
appetite is rather annoying," replied Sydney. He called to the two boys,
sitting drowsily in the shade. "Here, you boys, if you want to go out
and get some grub with this lady, just run in her horse for her as fast
as you can."
"Well, I should say so!" exclaimed the soft-voiced twin, who jumped up
with wonderful alacrity, followed more slowly by Dave. Another moment
they were spurring their ponies across the large, fenced pasture toward
a bunch of horses grazing quietly in the distance.
"Those boys are all right when there's anything to eat in sight,"
remarked Carter.
"Or any fun," added the girl.
"How in the world do you tell them apart?" he inquired. "I look at one
and think I've got him spotted for sure, and then when the other one
turns up I'm all mixed again. You seem to know them so well, you must
have some kind of a mark to go by."
"They are so entirely different in their natures," she said, "that I
almost know them apart without looking at them. Their faces look
different to me, too. Dan has certain expressions that Dave never had;
and their voices are nothing alike."
"I've noticed their voices," said her cousin, watching the boys as they
deftly turned the bunch of horses and headed them toward the corral.
"Well, they can sure ride to beat three of a kind! They're not losing
any time with those horses, either."
The corral was built in a corner of the pasture fence, near the stables.
It took the breed boys scarcely five minutes to corral the horses, rope
the saddle animal wanted, throw open the large gate and lead out the
horse. The other horses followed with a mad dash, kicking up their heels
in very joy for their unexpected freedom.
Hope watched the road, as far as she could see it, looking for the
return of her small German friend.
"We'll ride along," suggested Sydney, throwing the saddle upon her
horse, "and we'll probably meet them. I don't think we'll have any
trouble getting Livingston to drive over to camp, and we'll all go
fishing together."
This seemed to take a load from the mind of Hope, and light-heartedly
she rode away toward the camp with her cousin and the breed boys.