GREAT EXPECTATIONS
Constance Brevoort's two months had lengthened into five and it was now
October. Her experience had been unique and so diverting that the
attractions of the eastern metropolis had paled before the more virile
and exciting possibilities of this life primitive, and it had required
but slight persuasion on the part of the Carters to induce her to
prolong her stay until the time of their own return to New York.
The healthful outdoor life, to which she took with avidity, had worked
wonders for her really splendid and responsive constitution, and her
normal great beauty had been freshened and intensified to a degree that
made her conquest of the unsophisticated cowpunchers a thing of almost
unenjoyable ease. With the single exception of Red, who loyally
worshiped at the shrine of his first-loved divinity, every man for miles
around did open and unblushing homage to the bewitching goddess, who
found in their frank adoration a charm and satisfaction unknown to her
previous inane piracies on the placid shallows of the social millpond.
Out here on the high seas of unshackled independence, where every man
was a viking in his own right and cruised with unbridled license through
the deeps of his own will, each conquest was a victory to be written
large on the tablet of her vanity. In her own land she had found many
men who would languidly live for her favors; out here there was not one
who would not eagerly die for the privilege of carrying out her most
whimsical commands. And with womanly lack of philosophy she very much
preferred those who would die to those who would live.
Under the jealous ministrations of her Centaur swains she had developed
a great skill of horsewoman-ship, and in their company she and Grace
Carter had ridden the range thoroughly, leaving not one point thereof
unexplored. Each man vied with the other in the breaking of a safe mount
for her, and tradition has it that there were more gentle horses on the
range that year than had ever been known before on the whole western
slope. These extended rides were a Godsend for Grace, diverting her mind
from its cankering memories and bringing a new beauty to both face and
figure, until at last the amorous cowpunchers were frankly divided as to
the supremacy of the two women's respective charms. Red, alone, had no
indecision, either in thought or strenuous expression on that point.
"Thu black ain't in thu runnin' with thu bay; an' she ain't in her
class, nuther," had been his unequivocal opinion when approached on that
topic. "Thu one's good enough to put yuh wad on fer a quick spurt, but
yuh kin trus' yuah life on thu otheh. Thu filly fer me, every time." But
then Red was in love, and that always has a strongly modifying influence
on one's convictions. That he was nearly alone in his judgment may be
ascribed to the difference of tastes. And it may be stated as a curious
coincidence that most of the cowpunchers were blondes.
Not a word had been heard from Douglass since his departure and he had
actually passed out of the mind of Mrs. Brevoort altogether. When their
paths did finally cross, however, it was under conditions that stamped
him indelibly upon her mind and soul both.
She and Grace had ridden over to Tin Cup in the cool of the morning,
spending the day with Mrs. Blount. They had, on their return, essayed a
short cut through William's pasture field, with the intention of thereby
shortening the distance and evading the dust which hung in big yellow
clouds above a herd of cattle being driven up the county road.
In the field adjoining Grace saw, with an instantaneous recognition
which sent the color from her cheeks, a rider engaged in corralling a
pair of dusty pack-horses whose appearance betokened a long day's
plodding. There could be no mistaking that erect, lithe figure, or the
long, rangy "strawberry roan" he was so gracefully bestriding, and her
heart leaped at sight of him. Constance, following the direction of her
gaze, asked quickly:
"Who is that? What a superb seat he has!"
Even as her lips opened in reply, Grace saw Mrs. Brevoort's horse give a
frantic kick at something entangling his legs, then leap affrightedly
from side to side, while his rider screamed in terror. As he plunged
again Grace screamed in unison as she realized her companion's peril;
she never knew that at that moment of supreme dread she had
instinctively cried out the name of the rider in the next field,
conscious only of that terrible strand of barbed wire which was goading
Constance's horse to frenzy. It was a thing of all too common occurrence
in this land of wire fences; a loosely-coiled strand of the barbed steel
had been left lying in the high grass where some careless repairsman had
indolently flung it, and the horse had become hopelessly entangled in
its trap. Scared and anguished by the ripping barbs, the horse was
plunging madly about in his attempt to free himself from its cruel
fetters, momentarily approaching a greater danger, as in his struggles
he neared a high cut bank of the arroyo traversing the pasture.
At that shrill scream of "Ken! Ken!" the man whirled his horse about and
looked inquiringly in their direction; one lightning-like glance and he
sent the rowells home hard into the flank of the roan, which left the
ground in one mighty leap. Over the intervening twenty rods he came like
a thunderbolt, clearing the dividing fence by a good two feet as
Douglass lifted him to the jump and gaining the side of the plunging
horse just as the bank's edge crumbled under its feet.
He was not one moment too soon, for as his arm encircled Constance's
waist, her horse went floundering down to a broken neck on the rocks
thirty feet below. Even then for a few moments the issue was in doubt;
Mrs. Brevoort was an exceedingly well-nurtured young woman, and one
hundred and forty pounds of limp humanity is difficult to sustain with
one arm while on the back of a horse struggling to retain his footing
on the treacherous edge of a loose-earth precipice. But that arm had the
strength of a steel bar, and its possessor was the best horseman in a
land where all men rode for a living. Inside of ten seconds he was
dismounting in safety, still holding the fainting woman with that one
clasping arm.
As he touched the ground he placed the other arm around her
supportingly, her weight for the first time telling on him. On his
snatching her out of the saddle she had instinctively thrown her arms
about his neck, and they were still there; her head lay drooped upon his
shoulder and her loosened hair, whipping in the fresh breeze, was
stinging his cheek and blinding his eyes as Grace rode up and flung
herself from the saddle. There was a suggestiveness in the pose of the
two that went to her heart with a pang: they looked so lover-like, this
man with his arms about the clinging woman. For five long months she had
been schooling her heart to resignation in the conviction that they
would never meet in the flesh again, and here he had come back to
her--with another woman in his arms. In that moment she hated Constance
Brevoort with all the fervor of her strong young aching heart. For as
she stood there, torn by passion and pulsating with joy at the sight of
him whom she had deemed lost to her forever, she saw the black eyes
cautiously open and close again, the rose-red lips curve in a peculiar
smile, and the white arms tighten about Douglass's neck.
In the first fury of her jealous rage she could have killed them both
without compunction, but pride came to her rescue and as he gently laid
his burden down in the deep grass, reason reasserted itself. Taking
Constance's head in her lap, she said curtly:
"Get some water at once! There is plenty in the arroyo."
He was back in a half minute with his inverted sombrero full of the
tepid fluid which Grace rather unceremoniously poured over Mrs.
Brevoort's face and neck, sneering cynically at the well-simulated gasp
of returning consciousness that rewarded her efforts. At the second
douche Mrs. Brevoort's eyes opened a bit hastily; the water was a trifle
turbid as well as tepid, and Constance doubted the benefits of that
alkaline lotion on her zealously-preserved complexion. Grace smiled
grimly and emptying the remainder of the water out of his sombrero
handed it to him with exaggerated thankfulness.
He took it with a modest declaimer and turned to the readjustment of his
saddle which had been displaced during the rescue. Then he went to the
recovery of the accoutrements of the dead horse in the arroyo and when
he returned Mrs. Brevoort was in more appropriate condition to receive
his formal introduction and convey her gratitude for the supreme service
he had rendered. He evaded most of the latter by hastily riding back to
town in the hopes of securing her another mount. He returned with the
discomfiting report that there was not a single ridable animal
available, and suggested that the ladies return to Tin Cup and stay over
night, a rider being meanwhile sent to the C Bar ranch for a horse that
she could handle with safety. As it was already well along in the heel
of the day they were compelled to accept his advice and the return to
the hotel was soon effected.
He was all deference to Miss Carter throughout the evening meal and the
short succeeding hour of his company which he accorded them. He was
frank in his confession of failure to find the mineral deposits of which
he had been in search, although positive in his conviction that he would
be ultimately successful. He was exceedingly affable in his manner and
Grace was all sweetness in return. Constance Brevoort, watching the
little by-play, was genuinely amused; with the wisdom of the old serpent
she effaced herself as much as possible, and as soon as conventionality
would permit, excused herself and retired to her room, leaving the
leaven of her beauty to work in what she correctly judged to be warm and
fertile soil. It was a clever bit of strategy that would in nine out of
ten instances have been altogether successful and she smiled as she
looked into the little mirror.
"This one will be worth while," she mused aloud, her mouth full of
hair-pins. "But he will require different treatment from the others, and
will have to be handled carefully. But why did she say he was not
handsome? The man is as beautiful as a Greek god done in bronze. And he
has the strength of ten. He caught me up like a feather." She looked
with a strange admiration at the slight discoloration of the white flesh
where his arm had gripped her waist. "Yes, he will be worth while."
But fate had capriciously designed this to be the tenth instance; after
she had left the room an embarrassing silence had fallen upon the stuffy
little parlor and after awhile, Douglass rose diffidently and stalked
toward the door, mumbling some conventional excuse for his departure.
His hand was already on the door knob when his name, softly spoken,
caused him to turn instantly. Grace had also risen and was standing
beside the table with one hand partly extended and something very like
entreaty in her eyes.
"Tell me," she said without preamble, coming straight to the point, "why
did you leave the C Bar? My brother says you gave no reason; and I think
I have a right to know."
For the eternal half of a minute he regarded her with somber scorn. "I
guess you've got another think coming," he said with slangy
impoliteness. "When, and where, and how, and by whom was conferred upon
you the right to demand of me an accounting of my private affairs?"
Her bosom was heaving in hot resentment of his studied incivility and
her lips trembled with a fierce desire to give him scorn for scorn. But
she had too much at stake and another opportunity might not offer if she
let the present one escape her. So she wisely availed herself of woman's
best weapon and a tear glistened in her eye as she said humbly: "I
presumed too greatly; and I am fully rebuked. I have no right--not even
the right to expect courtesy and justice at your hands. Yet you are a
fair man, and some terrible mistake seems to have been made somehow.
Tell me, please, why did you leave us as you did?"
He answered her, Yankee-wise, with a counter question: "Why did you show
Abbie my poem?"
"Abbie--your poem--! I do not understand!" Her genuine wonder and
surprise made him feel uneasy. 'Could it be possible, after all, that
she was guiltless? If so--God! what a fool he had made of himself! He
crossed the room impulsively, and laying his hand on her shoulder,
looked squarely into her dewy eyes. She met his look bravely, then
gently removing his hand, walked in her turn to the door. He intercepted
her with a quick movement, his jaws squaring with determination.
"Let us have this thing out, here and now! Why did you deliberately make
a laughing stock of me by exhibiting that foolish bit of verse and so
expose me to the ridicule of the whole range? I want the truth."
"And you could think me guilty of that!" There was more of sorrowful
pity than indignation in the words and they cut him like a bullet. "Let
me pass, please. I have no further curiosity to satisfy."
He barred the way obstinately, a shamed contrition struggling with
sullen incredulity for the mastery. "Wait a minute," he said thickly.
"If I am wrong in this I humbly beg your pardon, but I am going to be
sure before I humiliate myself unnecessarily." Angry as she was, she had
much difficulty to repress a smile at the arrogance of his vanity.
"Abbie taunted me with writing poetry and the men joined in her
insinuations. Their only knowledge of my foolishness could have been
derived from one source--the notebook which I lost and which you
returned to me. There was no reference to it made before it came into
your possession. What was I to infer?"
"That book was handed to me by my mother, who, as I understand, got it
from one of the men who found it at the gate. He thought it belonged to
my brother and so gave it to her. I beg to assure you that no one saw or
handled it while in my possession but myself. And I certainly have not
discussed its contents with any one." Reading full belief in his eyes,
she recovered her composure instantly and thereafter had him on the
defensive.
"Was the poetry really as bad as all that?" she asked with such apparent
innocent naivete that he was compelled against his will to smile
somewhat sheepishly.
"It was arrant nonsense," he confessed. And then, somewhat bitterly.
"Yet it was written in good faith, every word of it."
"Then I should like to read it," she said, with hypocritical interest.
"I am curious to learn what could be the nature of the impressions that
you could be impelled to perpetuate in verse."
"I thought you had no further curiosity to satisfy," he retorted
evasively, his suspicions now entirely dissipated. "And I do not care to
risk subjecting myself to any further indignities."
"That is very unkind of you." The reproof was gravely gentle. "My
interest is not that of mere curiosity, believe me. I prophesied once
that you could write poetry, remember. It would be a great pleasure to
read the vindication of my intuition. _That_ is woman's best trump card,
you know. Please."
She laid her hand on his arm and he fumbled irresolutely with his hat;
she smiled confidently, knowing well that he who hesitates with a woman
is lost. Although greatly against his inclination he took the book from
his inside pocket and put it in her hand, opened at the verse she was so
familiar with.
With a great pretense at its more convenient reading, she went over to
the lamp or the table; but it was really to hide a sudden trepidation
she felt at her own audacity in thus forcing his hand. In order to gain
time she reread it a second and then a third time. In the presence of
the man standing there silently waiting her judgment, the lines took on
a new and strange meaning, an intensity of pathetic appeal that filled
her eyes with tears. She made no attempt to conceal them as she returned
the booklet.
"I thank you," she said very gently. "It is my vindication--and my
answer as well. 'A great Love's ecstasy!' May it be yours--and without
the penalty."
Her face was drawn and wan, and the hand she extended to him as she bade
him good night trembled visibly. He took it in both his and for an
immortal second, happiness was very close to those two young people, had
they only known. But Cupid was ever a mischievous imp and one of his
arrows had only glanced; he laughed derisively and turned his back,
resolving to drive the shaft home mercilessly when time and longing had
worn to the quick this big simpleton's armor of obtuse vanity, as
Douglass, restraining a sudden mad desire to take this woman in his arms
and bruise her mouth with kisses, merely laid his lips respectfully on
the little hand and deferentially held open the door.
At the entrance of the hotel he encountered Red McVey, coming to assure
himself of the safety of the ladies. He had ridden out to meet them on
their return journey, as was his wont, and, meeting the rider sent for a
new mount for Mrs. Brevoort, had sent him on to the ranch with definite
instructions, electing himself to ride through to town and as a matter
of precaution, accompany them home the next day. The rider had not
mentioned Douglass's participation in the mishap, and his presence was
therefore a surprise to McVey, who was unaffectedly glad to see his best
friend again.
At the Alcazar, a little later, Red had a sapient suggestion to make:
"Befoh yuh squandah all thu gold yuh been diggin' outen yuh leetle ole
mine, Ken, on this yeah mad-wateh outfit, yuh betteh lay yuh a leetle
nest aig. Thu Vaughans want to sell theah ranch an' go east; reckon
twenty thousand would buy it, cattle an' all. If yuh got that much
denario in yuh jeans it's a mighty big bahgaln."
"Twenty thousand!" said Douglass derisively. "You haven't heard of a
lone cowpuncher about my size that's been holding up any banks or
treasure trains, have you? Twenty thousand! Why say, you old redheaded
funny-bone, I'm ashamed to tell you what I'd do for one-half that much
money, honest I am. I'm just seven bones to the good and I've come down
here to make it a couple of hundred, so's I can eat till the grass
comes. It's next year I'll be buying twenty thousand-dollar bargains;
the gold is there, all right, and I'm going to find it.
"I bought out a claim up there," he continued, "and who do you think
owned it first?" He chuckled at thought of the surprise he was going to
spring on Red. But his mirth got a sudden check as McVey nodded his head
knowingly.
"Yes, I heered about it; 'twer Matlock, an' he's been talkin' a heap
disrespec'ful about how he broke it off in yuh, oveh to Cheyenne. Says
as how he is seven hundred dollars nearer even with yuh. I didn't think
yuh'd let that coyote soak yuh thataway." His words were distinctly
reproachful. Douglass smiled mysteriously.
"Don't you worry about my soaking, old-timer. He'll talk even more
disrespectfully of himself about this time next year. That claim lies
lengthwise along the top of the ridge, on both sides of it, and so
constitutes the 'apex' of every vein below it throughout its full
length. I am perfectly aware that he salted it for my benefit with ore
taken from the Bonanza mine. I saw him doing it! But even if I hadn't
known all about it I wouldn't have been fooled. The formation is
entirely different from the Bonanza locality and any miner, let alone a
professional mining engineer as I happen to be, would have tumbled to
the salting at first sight of the stuff the fool scattered about the
place. And that apex controls the vein that this came from!" He fished
a bit of rock from his pocket and passed it to Red, whose eyes bulged
out as he looked. Through its center, from side to side, ran a ribbon of
dull yellow metal as wide as one's finger. Even to Red's unmetallurgical
eyes its identity was plain.
"Gold! Pure gold!" he murmured with respectful awe. Then his big paw
went out congratulatingly. "Shake! Gawd, ole man, but I'm shore glad!"
"What's a 'apex'?" he inquired of Douglass, some six hundred dollars
winner for the night, as he left the faro table and walked arm in arm
with him to the hotel. Douglass was very explicit in his explanation.
"Nearly all true fissure veins in these mountains are to all practical
intents and purposes vertical; that is, they run straight up and down
instead of lying horizontal. It naturally follows that, if they don't
pinch out before they get there, they come to the surface at or near the
top of the hill. The courts have decided that a claim located on the top
or 'apex' of such veins controls them to whatever depth they may run;
that is, an 'apex' claim holds all the veins under it clean down to
China! So the fellow who owns the 'apex' practically owns the whole
mountain for a space as long as the length of his claim. To make sure of
catching the apex of any veins in the hill I took up two extensions--one
on each side of the claim I bought from Matlock and his partner, so that
my holdings are fifteen hundred feet long by nine hundred feet wide; as
the hill crest is almost a knife-edge in sharpness I cover every vein
in it. And somewhere under the loose slide-rock on that hill lies the
lode from which this comes! Do you _sabe_ now?"
Red gurgled his full comprehension. "Why yuh damned ole foxy gran'pa! I
orter knowed thet yuh wouldn't let thet swab do yuh! But howd' yuh come
to be dealin' with Matlock? I been a heap oneasy in my mind about that."
"Well, it was this way: Two years ago his partner, old Eric Olsen, the
big Swede that Coogan bought the Palace from, you know, saw me
prospecting on that mountain and naturally figured that I had found some
good indications of mineral there or I would not be fooling around. So
they plotted to salt a claim or two and swindle me a bit, their own
prospecting of the ground revealing nothing at all. The whole mountain
side is covered with slide-rock and there is no mineral in sight. So,
calculating that a fool cowpuncher knew nothing about geology and so
would bite at anything he could see with his own eyes, they stole a lot
of rich ore from the Bonanza, over at Breckenridge, and salted her up
good! As it happened, they chose the very claim I wanted to file on, the
apex, and so I had to buy them out. I never came in contact with either
of them at all; I bought it through a mining broker. But for a whole day
I watched them through my field glasses salting the ground. The funny
part of it is that by a very little work--Olsen is a good man with a
drill and powder, you know--they did enough linear shafting to enable me
to patent the ground. And in the five months that I have been at work on
the extensions I have done enough work on each of them to patent them
also. That's what I wanted this six hundred for. In ten days I'll have
them patented, too, and then no one can jump them or cause me any
trouble when I come to work the leads which I am sure lie under my apex
claims."
On the first of the new year he received his patents from Washington;
and in the interim he had secured work that promised to put him in
sufficient funds to prosecute developments on his mining claims.