In the morning Sheila awoke stiff and sore, but rested. Her strong
young body, hard and well conditioned by a life in the open and much
healthy exercise, refused to indulge in the luxury of after effects of
shock. Looking around, she found that her clothes were gone. But spread
ready for her was a dainty morning costume, which she knew for Clyde
Burnaby's. Dressing quickly, she entered the breakfast room.
Clyde, sitting by the window, rose, smiling, as she entered.
"I hope they fit," she said. "How do you feel, Miss McCrae?"
"They fit very well, and I feel first rate," said Sheila. "I'm sore in
spots, but I'll limber up when I get moving. Where is Mrs. Wade? I
suppose Casey has gone to Talapus."
"Kitty's busy cleaning your riding clothes," Clyde replied. "Casey has
gone; I haven't seen him."
It was the first time she had used his given name to a third person. It
slipped out naturally, and she coloured a trifle, but Sheila did not
appear to notice. They breakfasted together, and later sat on the
veranda enjoying the perfect morning after the storm. Naturally, they
spoke of the events of the preceding day and night. Sheila took a
practical view.
"It was lucky Tom McHale wasn't here," she said. "Somebody would have
been hurt. That's what I was afraid of."
"It was very brave of you," said Clyde. "I admire you more than I can
say. I want you to know it, Miss McCrae."
"Oh, that"--Sheila dismissed the warm praise with a wave of her brown
hand--"why, it wasn't anything; only a wet ride in the dark. If my
horse had kept his feet it would have been all right. I simply had to
come. Don't try to make me think myself a heroine. You'd do the same
thing yourself for a friend."
"I'm afraid I couldn't. I'm not much of a rider, and I couldn't have
found my way in the dark."
"Well, that's no credit to me. I've been riding all my life, and I know
every foot of this country. Of course, I'd do anything for Casey or
Tom."
"Yes," said Clyde, "they both think a great deal of you, I know."
"No more than I think of them--especially Casey. Some day I suppose
he'll get married, and then I'll have to call him 'Mr. Dunne.'"
"That won't be necessary."
"Oh, yes, it will. His wife wouldn't stand for 'Casey.'"
"Yes, she will," said Clyde. Sheila turned and looked at her keenly.
"We are going to be married," Clyde added.
"You don't mean it!" Sheila exclaimed. "Well, you are a lucky girl, if
you don't mind my saying so. Casey's _white_. I congratulate you with
all my heart. And he's lucky, too; yes, he is."
"You--you don't mind?" Clyde ventured. She thought it quite possible
that Sheila might care for Casey, although convinced that he did not
love her.
"Mind? Why should I mind?"
"You know I thought once"--Clyde hesitated--"you see you were such
great friends----"
"You thought I might be fond of him? Why, so I am. Not in that way,
though. I might have been if he had tried to make love to me, but he
never did. You see, Miss Burnaby----"
"I wish you'd call me Clyde."
"If you'll call me Sheila. You see, Clyde, Casey and I are too much two
of a kind. We'd never get on. You'll idealize him; I'd call him down.
He'll talk out of his heart to you; he'd talk irrigation, and crops,
and horses to me. You'll accept his judgment in most things as final;
I'd want him to take my opinion instead of his own. Oh, we'd make an
awful mess of it! And so, my dear, don't you think that I'd want his
love, even if I could get it. But at that he's the whitest man I know,
and the best friend I ever had. You're lucky. I don't wonder that he
fell in love with you, either. I wish to goodness _I_ were as pretty."
"I'm glad," said Clyde, "that you haven't said anything about money.
Thank you."
"It's not because I didn't think of it," Sheila admitted frankly. "But
I know it makes no difference to Casey. Fact is, I wonder, knowing him
as I do, that he hadn't some absurd scruples on that point."
"He had. He says we can't be married if he loses this ranch and the
other lands."
"Nonsense," said Sheila practically. "He won't stay with that if you
coax him; he couldn't."
Clyde laughed happily. "That's the nicest compliment I ever had. You're
absolutely the first person I've told."
"Well, I'm much flattered," said Sheila. "When did it happen?"
"Last night."
"Everything happened last night. Was he--er--convincing in the part?"
But Clyde, laughing and blushing, refused details. Sheila wished to go
home at once, but Clyde prevailed on her to wait for Casey. It was his
wish.
"And that settles it from your point of view, of course," said Sheila.
"Well, I'll wait."
Casey returned at noon. Clyde met him halfway between the stable and
the house, bareheaded, the fresh wind fluttering her skirts and
spinning little tendrils of coppery gold across her forehead. He would
have taken both her hands, but she put them behind her, laughing.
"Not here, sir!"
"It's my ranch and my girl."
"In order of merit?"
"My girl and my ranch, then. But tell me: How is Sheila?"
"Quite well, except for her bruises. What a plucky girl she is, Casey!"
"I should say she is," he agreed heartily. "You must be friends.
Somehow you never seemed to like her."
"I understand her better now. I've told her about--us."
"Fine! And Kitty Wade?"
"Yes. Come in and face the music yourself."
But Casey got off lightly. They lunched without Wade, who had gone to
town for mail; but as they were finishing the meal he entered.
"Casey," he cried, "I hope to Heaven I haven't foundered your horse,
but I have all kinds of news for you!"
Casey's mouth tightened a little. "Let it go, Wade. Maybe it's all for
the best."
"Part of this is, anyway. Don't look so glum; it's all right, I tell
you. Now, this was the way of it: When I got my papers at the post
office I saw that Western Air stock, which had been playing antics
before, had gone clean crazy. It's been boosted sky high. All sorts of
rumours, the chief being that the Hess System people were responsible.
So I wired for the latest. Got a reply that it was impossible to
confirm rumours. Then, just as I was leaving, in comes a wire for Clyde
which I herewith produce and put in as Exhibit A, and which, I strongly
suspect, throws light on the situation. Open it, Clyde, for Heaven's
sake, and put us out of our misery!"
Clyde tore the envelope with fingers which trembled slightly. She read
the message and handed it to Casey.
"Aloud?" he asked, and she nodded. He read:
Sending you power of attorney and proxy to vote shares recently
purchased by your brokers. We now control corporation. Advise
friends to drop lawsuit. They will get a square deal.
JIM.
Casey looked up. He did not understand. Wade struck him a violent blow
on the back.
"Hooray!" he shouted. "It's blamed unprofessional, but I was never so
glad to discontinue an action in my life. Clyde, you're a darling!" He
caught her in his arms and whirled her around the room.
"Harrison!" Kitty cried, "have you gone crazy?"
Wade released Clyde, breathless, and sank into a chair.
"Bring me an expensive drink!" he commanded. "This needs celebrating."
"Will somebody tell me what's the matter with him?" Casey asked.
"What!" exclaimed the lawyer. "Don't you see it?"
"Not yet," Casey admitted.
"Why, you old dub," cried Wade, "the wire is from Jim Hess, Clyde's
uncle. His interests control Western Air. He promises you a square
deal."
"Eh!" Casey ejaculated, staring at him.
"You blamed idiot!" snapped the lawyer, "why don't you thank Clyde? She
started the old chief on the warpath after York's scalp."
Casey turned to her. "Tell me he isn't raving mad! Is it so?"
"It's so," she said, "but I----" He interrupted by catching her in his
arms.
"Here, hold on, old man!" Wade protested. "Gratitude's a fine thing,
but you're too----"
His wife took him by the arm. "Come on, Harrison, you stupid! You're
worse than he is. Can't you understand anything?" Sheila's skirts were
already fluttering through the door.
"Great Scott!" Wade exclaimed, "you don't mean----"
"You--you _bonehead_!" she cried, exasperated, and hustled him outside.
Careless of them, Casey held Clyde, looking down into her eyes.
"Sweetheart," he said, "you never told me!"
"I was afraid."
"Of raising false hopes?"
"Not that, so much. But you wouldn't let me help you with money. And I
was afraid that if you knew, you'd consider yourself under an
obligation and wouldn't--wouldn't----"
"Wouldn't what?"
"Wouldn't be sensible and tell me you loved me," she said softly.
"You're so funny about such things, Casey. You aren't angry now, are
you?"
"Angry?" he said. "Dear, I'd put the savings of years into this
land--years when I'd worked like a very slave to get enough cash
together to swing some good deal when I should see it. That was my
stake. And the others! Why, girl, you've saved Talapus to the McCraes,
and their ranches for the men who made them. We can't repay you; we
won't try."