MARY RECEIVES COMPANY
Mary's heart skipped a beat and then pulsed ninety to the minute as her
first suspicion became a certainty: a wagon was coming through the dark
to the ranch. With a prayer for her husband on her lips she went slowly
to the door. She recognized Murray's voice and Jake's in conversation
and stood with her hand on the door until Jake's rough command was
followed by the sound of the wagon going to the stable. No one wounded!
Her relief was so great that she walked unsteadily in crossing back to
her chair. Mary was nervous and easily upset, these days.
Surprise acted as a tonic when the two ladies entered, followed by
Murray. A glance at Margaret's face stirred memories in Mary. She
stammered: "Why--why--I know--who--"
Murray supplied the name: "It is Miss McAllister, Mrs. Cassidy."
"Why, of co'se," said Mary; "I 'd know Miss McAllister anywhere; she
favors Frenchy like she was his own daughter."
"Did you know Uncle John?" asked Margaret, breathlessly.
"Yes, indeedy. I took to him first sight," and Mary smiled at the
girl's eagerness.
"Aunt Jessie! Isn't that just glorious? Mrs. Cassidy, this is my aunt,
Mrs. Blake--and I want you to tell me everything you can remember about
Uncle John."
"Now you have done it," declared Mrs. Blake. "You will get no peace from
Margaret while she thinks there is a wag of your tongue left about her
Uncle John."
"Margaret--that's a right sweet name. But I 'm afraid Billy would
insist--" she flushed a dull red as Mrs. Blake sharply addressed Murray:
"Ralph, see that some one gets those trunks in, will you? That is, if
they did not drop off into the bosom of this blessed wilderness,
somewhere _en route_."
"They did n't. But it's all Montana to an incubator Jake took them to
the stable," and Murray promptly vanished.
"Certainly he would insist," agreed Mrs. Blake, resuming the thread of
Mary's unconscious soliloquy. "And quite right, too. It would have to
be--what did you say your name is, my dear?"
"Mary "--the shy smile made her seem very unlike the self-reliant H2
girl.
Mrs. Blake took her in her arms and mothered her. "Mary is every bit as
sweet as Margaret," she declared. "And now you must came over here and
sit down. That is six for me and a half dozen for myself. _How_ I shall
rejoice to land in a seat that neither shakes nor bumps!"
"I shore begs you-all 's pardon; but I ain't got over my surprise yet."
"Shall we put you to very much trouble, Mrs. Cassidy?" asked Margaret.
"Perhaps if you get that lazy Murray to help--"
"Why, Murray ain't lazy. There ain't none of the boys lazy, 'cept maybe
Jake. An' it's shore a pleasure to have you here."
"May heaven forgive my vegatative emotion in the cessation of motion,"
and Mrs. Blake carefully refrained from moving her foot forward one
enticing inch: it was good enough as it was.
"You ain't use' to travelling, Mrs. Blake," suggested Mary.
"On the contrary, my dear," that lady assured her. "Mr. Blake hauled me
over the entire country from the Mississippi to the Atlantic; but he
never subjected me to the churning discomfort of a devil-drawn buckboard
driven by a heartless madcap in petticoats." Mrs. Blake shifted the
faintest imaginable distance to the left and back again immediately: the
first position was the more comfortable, as she might have known.
The two younger women exchanged a smile, Margaret's a merry one, Mary's
more sober as she thought how easily the buckboard might have carried a
load indifferent for all time, to jolts. "Did you see anything o' th'
boys?" she asked.
"I saw them all, I believe," answered Margaret. "They went through Twin
River just before we started."
"Cock Murray came back with you. Did you see my husband? He started
out to find Mr. Peters."
"Mr. Cassidy and Mr. Booth went after that Dave brute."
"Where was Buck?"
"He was wounded, Mrs. Cassidy. Not badly, they say. Dave shot him from
ambush. We found him lying in the road."
"Oh! I ought to go to him," and Mary started from her seat.
"Certainly not," declared Mrs. Blake. "It is quite evident that you do
not appreciate the comforts of inertia. Besides, from what Margaret
tells me, he is well taken care of."
"Oh! and I forgot the medicine chest," exclaimed Margaret. "Yes, he has
an attentive nurse, Mrs. Cassidy. We took him to the LaFrance place.
And I must get that medicine chest from Whitby's kit and send it over.
Where are Whitby's things, Mrs. Cassidy?"
"They 're in th' bunk-house. Murray will get them for you. So Buck is
there? Did you see the French Rose, Miss McAllister?"
"Yes, haven't you? She is lovely; so serious and calm and strong. In
some way she makes you feel that she is sure to do the right thing at
the right time. Oh, I like her, immensely."
"Liking goes by contrasts," sleepily reminded Mrs. Blake. Mary smiled
no less at Margaret's grimace than at Mrs. Blake's pointed sarcasm.
"She has n't been to the ranch since we-all came," said Mary. "Buck
says she rid over quite often afore that. I 'm glad Rose is 'tendin'
him; from what I hear of her he could n't be in better hands."
"Mr. Peters seemed glad, too," said Margaret, suggestively; "and Miss
LaFrance did not seem at all sorry."
Before Mary could respond to Margaret's unspoken question, the door
opened with a bang and Pickles rushed in. "Been a-helpin' them sheep
with th' trunks," he informed them. "Where's Hopalong? Did he find
Buck? That cacklin' Murray has forgot how to crow; he on'y grunts."
"Hopalong has gone after Dave. He shot Buck," answered Mary.
"Not dead!" Pickles was aghast.
"No, only wounded."
"I just _got_ to kill that Dave. Rose has got to lemme off on that
promise. I bet she will now he 's gone an' shot up Buck."
Mrs. Blake stirred in her chair and opened one eye. "Out of the mouths
of babes and sucklings--"
"Sucker yoreself!" retorted Pickles. "Reckon you think I don't know
nothin'. You wait." He slammed the door behind him and stamped off,
greatly incensed. His advice to Jake, who told him to open the other
door while he carried in a trunk, was impossible to follow, involving a
journey from which no one, not even Jake, would ever be likely to
return.
When Margaret, insisting that Mary direct operations from her chair, was
satisfied with domestic arrangements, she asked Murray's advice about
sending the medicine chest to Rose. Obeying Whitby's wishes seemed the
most important thing in life at present. Cock demurred to her plan of
sending him before morning; and he was opposed to leaving the ranch at
all before Buck himself took charge again. Margaret was vexed at his
stupidity. They had gone together to the bunk-house and argued the
matter with the object of dispute on the floor between them. Glancing
at them from his own especial bunk was Pickles, trying in vain to make
sense from a jumble of sounds unlike any he had ever heard. Pickles'
vocabulary was very limited. His snort of disgust as he gave it up and
turned his back on the disputants, gave Cock an idea. "Pickles," he
said, "Buck's sick and he needs this box. Buck told me to stay at the
ranch. Will you take it if I saddle Swallow?"
"Shore will," and Pickles shoved one entirely nude leg from the bunk;
before he could follow it with the other, he was much surprised and more
embarrassed to find himself swooped upon, seized and swiftly kissed by
Margaret, whose brown-clad form fled through the door like the flirt of
a wood-thrush, vanishing into the dim recesses of the forest.
* * * * *
Ned Monroe and the boys, Big Saxe with them, came straggling up to the
bunk-house in the early hours of the morning, Ned having acquired a
change of mounts at Twin River. They secured their prisoner by the
simple expedient of tying him in a lump--and a cow-punch makes knots
that are exceedingly hard to struggle out of. Big Saxe did n't try.
Cock Murray was first out and he awoke Ned. In the open, safe from
being overheard, they held conference, Monroe nodding his head
understandingly as Cock made his points. After breakfast, Monroe
delivered a speech, short and to the point, and when they separated to
their duties, Cock and Slow Jack rode away together. Big Saxe, very
effectually hobbled at the ankles, was put in charge of Chesty Sutton
who tersely informed him that the first false move he made he would find
himself humpbacked all the way to his feet.
Cock bent his powers of persuasion to the converting of Slow Jack. It
proved an easy task. Secretly admiring Cock and his ways, Slow Jack
also perceived the trend of events to be putting Schatz out of the
running. The unbending will of Hopalong was over them all and Slow Jack
was not averse to throwing his services to the winning side.
It was the middle of the afternoon when Whitby appeared. The women
listened to his news with varying degrees of interest. Buck was doing
well and had declared it would not be long before he was at the ranch;
in the meantime, as he was obliged to be quiet, he seemed well contented
where he was. Pickles had arrived safe and had constituted himself
body-guard and messenger-at-need for Rose. As for Hopalong he could
tell them no more than they had already learned from Monroe. Mary was
not worried. She had supreme confidence in Hopalong's ability to take
care of himself and would have smiled if any one had suggested danger.
The end of Whitby's budget was punctuated with a huge sigh from Jake,
whose ear had never been far from the kitchen door. He now entered
diffidently and addressed himself to the Englishman: "I wrastled some
chuck for you, Whit; reckoned you might want some." His lumbering exit
was closely followed by Whitby's, whose strangled appetite slipped the
noose at Jake's invitation.
In the lively conversation of the three women, Margaret's voice groped
about in Whitby's consciousness like a hand searching in the dark for a
hidden spring; her sudden ringing laugh awoke him to his purpose and
hastily finishing his meal he made his way to the barn. After an hour's
delay, spent in selecting a pony for Margaret and taking the edge off
the temper of the quietest--a favor that Margaret would have repudiated
with scorn--he appeared at the house again with the offer to show her
over the range if she cared to go.
It was the very thing Margaret most wanted to do and they set out with
but little time lost. When she become accustomed to the saddle she
suggested a race but Whitby had no intention of running any such risk.
He easily held her interest in another way.
"I say, Miss McAllister, there 's one thing I did n't mention just now,"
he began.
"Not bad news?" questioned Margaret.
"Can't say it's good. That beastly German had the cheek to get away
with the money after all. He checked against the blessed lot yesterday
forenoon. I was at the bank this morning. It's right enough. They
produced the check. Seems a bit odd, you know, they should be carrying
that amount and pass it over in cash. I said as much; but the
president--rummy chap, by the way--he explained it; something about big
shipments of cattle. However, it's gone."
"Dear me! it seems very careless of somebody. Papa ought to know. What
shall you do?"
"Oh, I notified the agency at once; they 've taken it in hand. But it
won't do any good, you know. That bounder Schatz has it all planned out
and if he loses it, why, there you are, you know."
"Yes, so it seems; but, to all intents and purposes, he steals it. Do
you intend to let him triumph in such brazen robbery?"
"I rather fancy I shall have very little to say in the matter. That
Cassidy chap who is trying to catch Dave, went off without knowing the
money was gone. My word! I should n't care to be Schatz when Cassidy
hears of it. Deuced odd no one saw him in Wayback but the banking
people. However, the German will have to go. I wrote the Governor and
Mr. McAllister this morning. Between them they can come to an agreement
with Peters and we can buy the German out--or perhaps I should say his
heirs. It's a good sporting chance that it will be his heirs. Cassidy
has a proper amount of suspicion in his character and no one will ambush
him, I 'll lay."
"Good gracious! But you can't afford to lose all that money, can you?"
"It is a bit of a facer. But what of it? The range can stand it. In
twenty years it will bring ten times the money for farm land, or I 'm
much mistaken. I 'm sure the Governor will chance it and Buck will be
glad to have me an active partner. He said as much."
"Mr. Booth, did n't you advance the money to Peters in the last
partnership agreement?"
"Oh, I say! Did they tell you that? Then you should know it was my
advice that brought on his loss. But Buck is n't obliged to put up any
money with us; his experience and services are quite equal to the money
I shall put up. I fancy Mr. McAllister will agree with me in that. All
Buck wants is fair play, don't you know."
Margaret pulled her pony so that she had the advantage of a few feet
nearer the house when she spoke. "Whitby," she said, very clearly, "you
are a dear."
Both ponies swung their noses towards home in the same moment. The
burning blush on Margaret's face streamed from it on the air-currents
and settled on Whitby's determined countenance, to leave him and float
away to the rose clouds in the western sky. Whitby had the faster mount
but Margaret rode a far lighter weight and the chase might have been a
long one had she been very anxious to keep away. As it was a short half
mile found them on even terms. Whitby's arm went about the girl's waist
as the ponies ran stride for stride and she felt herself leaving the
saddle. With reckless abandonment to the law of might she yielded and
lay in his arms; their pace slowed to a walk, Whitby looking solemnly
into the brilliant eyes that mockingly regarded him.
"The good old rule, the simpler plan, that he shall take who hath the
power," quoted Margaret.
"And he shall keep who can," capped Whitby. "I can, Margaret, and I
will," he declared, a deep note of earnestness in his voice.
Margaret reached up and covered the steady eyes whose searching
threatened the unconscious secrets of her heart. But her voice reached
him, fainter, fraught with the vibration of sureness: "Whitby, you are a
dear."