A RED EPISODE
Dr. Marshall's offhand designation of the buckboard as "a team in a
hurry" was prophetic, even unto the end.
What Boyar could not accomplish in the way of equine gymnastics in
harness, Apache, Collie's pony, could.
Louise was a little fearful for her guests, yet she had confidence in
the driver. The Marshalls apparently saw nothing more than a pair of
very spirited "real Western horses like one reads about, you know,"
until Dr. Marshall, slowly coming out of a kind of anticipatory haze, as
Boyar stood on his hind feet and tried to face the buckboard, recognized
the black horse as Louise's saddle animal. He took a firmer grip on the
seat and looked at Collie. The young man seemed to be enjoying himself.
There wasn't a line of worry on his clean-cut face.
"Pretty lively," said the doctor.
Collie, with his foot on the brake and both arms rigid, nodded.
Moonstone Cañon Trail was not a boulevard. He was not to be lured into
conversation. He was giving his whole mind and all of his magnetism to
the team.
Boyar and Apache took advantage of every turn, pitch, steep descent, and
ford to display the demoniacal ingenuity inspired by their outraged
feelings. They were splendid, obedient saddle-animals. But to be buckled
and strapped in irritating harness, and hitched to that four-wheeled
disgrace, a buckboard!...
Anne Marshall chatted happily with Louise, punctuating her lively
chatter with subdued little cries of delight as some new turn in the
trail opened on a vista unimaginably beautiful, especially to her
Eastern eyes.
Young Dr. Marshall, in the front seat with Collie, braced his feet and
smiled. _He_ had had experience, in an East-Side ambulance, but then
that had been over level streets. He glanced over the edge of the cañon
road and his smile faded a little. It faded entirely as the front wheel
sheared off a generous shovelful of earth from a sharp upright angle of
the hill as the team took the turn at a gallop. The young physician had
a sense of humor, which is the next best thing to courage, although he
had plenty of his kind of courage also. He brushed the earth from his
lap.
"The road needs widening there, anyway," commented Collie, as though
apologizing.
"I have my--er--repair kit with me," said the genial doctor. "I'm a
surgeon."
Collie nodded, but kept his eyes rigidly on the horses. Evidently this
immaculate, of the white collar and cuffs and the stylish gray tweeds,
had "sand."
"They're a little fussy--but I know 'em," said Collie, as Boyar,
apparently terror-stricken at a manzanita that he had passed hundreds of
times, reared, his fore feet pawing space and the traces dangerously
slack. Louise bit her lower lip and quickly called Anne's attention to a
spot of vivid color on the hillside. To Dr. Marshall's surprise, Collie
struck Apache, who was behaving, smartly with the whip. Apache leaped
forward, bringing Boyar down to his feet again. The doctor would have
been inclined to strike Boyar for misbehaving. He saw Collie's wisdom
and smiled. To have punished Boyar when already on his hind feet would
have been folly.
At the top of the next grade the lathering, restive ponies finally
settled to a stubborn trot. "Mad clean through," said Collie.
"I should say they were behaving well enough," said the doctor, not as
much as an opinion as to relieve his tense nerves in speech.
"When a bronc' gets to acting ladylike, then is the time to look out,"
said Collie. "Boyar and Apache have never been in harness before. Seems
kind of queer to 'em."
"What! Never been--Why! Huh! For Heaven's sake, don't let Mrs. Marshall
hear that."
* * * * *
Walter Stone and his wife made the Marshalls feel at home immediately.
Walter Stone had known Dr. Marshall's father, and he found in the son a
pleasant living recollection of his old friend. Aunt Eleanor and Louise
had visited with Anne when they were East. She was Anne Winthrop then,
and Louise and she had found much in common to enjoy in shopping and
sightseeing. Their one regret was that Louise would have to return to
the West before her marriage to the young Dr. Marshall they all admired
so much. There had been vague promises of coming West after "things were
settled," as Anne put it. Which was merely another way of saying, "After
we are married and have become enough used to each other to really enjoy
a long trip West."
The Marshalls had arrived with three years of happiness behind them, and
apparently with an æon or so of happiness to look forward to, for they
were quiet, unassuming young folks, with plenty of money and no desire
whatever to make people aware of it.
The host brought cigars and an extra steamer-chair to the wide veranda.
"It's much cooler out here. We'll smoke while the girls tell each other
all about it."
"I _should_ like to sit on something solid for a few minutes," said the
doctor. "It was a most amazing drive."
"We're pretty well used to the cañon," said Stone. "Yet I can see how it
would strike an Easterner."
"Indeed it did, Mr. Stone. There is a thrill in every turn of it, for
me. I shall dream of it."
"Were you delayed at the station?" queried Stone.
"We wired," said the doctor. "It seems that the telegram was not
delivered. Miss Lacharme explained that messages have to wait until
called for, unless money is wired for delivering them."
"That is a fact, Doctor. Splendid system, isn't it?"
"I am really sorry that we put Miss Lacharme to so much trouble. She had
to scare up a team on the instant."
"Price, the storekeeper, brought you up, didn't he?"
"I don't think so. Miss Louise called him 'Collie,' I believe. He'd make
a splendid army surgeon, that young man! He has nerves like tempered
steel wire, and I never saw such cool strength."
"Oh, that's nothing. Any one could drive Price's horses."
The doctor smiled. "The young man confided to me that their names were
'Boyar' and 'Apache,' I believe. They both lived up to the last one's
name."
"Well, I'll be--Here, have a fresh cigar! I want to smoke on that.
Hu-m-m! Did that young pirate drive those saddle-animals--drive 'em from
the station to this rancho--Whew! I congratulate you, Doctor. You'll
never be killed in a runaway. He's a good horseman, but--Well, I'll talk
to _him_."
"Pardon me if I ask you not to, Stone. The girls enjoyed it immensely.
So did I. I believe the driver did. He never once lost his smile."
"Collie is usually pretty level-headed," said Walter Stone. "He must
have been put to it for horses. Price's team must have been out."
"He's more than level-headed," asserted Dr. Marshall. "He's magnetic. I
could feel confidence radiating from him like sunshine from a brick
wall."
"I think he'll amount to something, myself. Everything he tackles he
tackles earnestly. He doesn't leave loose ends to be picked up by some
one else later. I've had a reason to watch him specially. Three years
ago he was tramping it with a 'pal.' A boy tramp. Now see what he's
grown to be."
"A _tramp_! No!"
"Fact. He's done pretty well for himself since he's been with us. He had
a hard time of it before that."
"I served my apprenticeship in the slums," said Dr. Marshall. "East-Side
hospital. I think that I can also appreciate what you have done for
him."
"Thank you, Doctor,--but the credit belongs with the boy. Hello! Here
are our girls again." And Walter Stone and the doctor rose on the
instant.
"I think I shall call you Uncle Walter," said Anne Marshall, who had not
met Walter Stone until then.
"I'm unworthy," said the rancher, his eyes twinkling. "And I don't want
to be relegated to the 'uncle' class so soon."
"_Thanksawfully_," said Louise.
"Jealous, mouse?"
"Indeed, no. I'm not Mrs. Marshall's husband."
"I have already congratulated the doctor," said Walter Stone, bowing.
"Doctor," said Anne, in her most formal manner. "You're antique. Why
don't you say something bright?"
"I do, every time I call you Anne. I really must go in and brush up a
bit, as you suggest. You'll excuse me, I'm sure."
"Yes, indeed,--almost with pleasure. And, Doctor, _don't_ wear your
fountain-pen in your white vest pocket. You're not on duty, now."
In the shadows of the mountain evening they congregated on the veranda
and chatted about the East, the West, and incidentally about the
proposed picnic they were to enjoy a few days later, when "boots and
saddles" would be the order of the day. "And the trails are not bad,
Anne," said Louise. "When you get used to them, you'll forget all about
them, but your pony won't. He'll be just as deliberate and anxious about
your safety, and his, at the end of the week as he was at the
beginning."
"Imagine! A week of riding about these mountains! How Billy would have
enjoyed it, Doctor."
"Yes. But I believe he is having a pretty good time where he is."
"We wish he could be here, Anne," said Louise. "I've never met your
brother. He's always been away when I have been East."
"Which has been his misfortune," said Dr. Marshall.
"He writes such beautiful letters about the desert and his mining
claim,--that's his latest fad,--and says he's much stronger. But I
believe they all say that--when they have his trouble, you know."
"From Billy's last letter, I should say he was in pretty fair shape,"
said the doctor. "He's living outdoors and at a good altitude, somewhere
on the desert. He's making money. He posts his letters at a town called
'Dagget,' in this State."
"Up above San Berdoo," said Walter Stone. And he straightway drifted
into reverie, gazing at the bright end of his cigar until it faded in
the darkness.
"Hello!" exclaimed Dr. Marshall, leaning forward. "Sounds like the
exhaust of a pretty heavy car. I didn't imagine any one would drive that
cañon road after dark."
"Unusual," said Stone, getting to his feet. "Some one in a hurry. I'll
turn on the porch-light and defy the mosquitoes."
With a leonine roar and a succeeding clatter of empty cylinders, an
immense racing-car stopped at the gate below. The powerful headlight
shot a widening pathway through the night. Voices came indistinctly from
the vicinity of the machine. Before Walter Stone had reached the bottom
step of the porch, a huge figure appeared from out the shadows. In the
radiance of the porch-light stood a wonderfully attired stranger. Frock
coat, silk hat, patent leathers, striped trousers, and pearl gaiters, a
white vest, and a noticeable watch-chain adorned the driver of the
automobile. He stood for a minute, blinking in the light. Then he swept
his hat from his head with muscular grace. "Excuse me for intrudin'," he
said. "I seen this glim and headed for it. Is Mr. Walter Stone at
lee-sure?"
"I'm Walter Stone," said the rancher, somewhat mystified.
"My name's Summers, Jack Summers, proprietor of the Rose Girl Mine." And
Overland Red, erstwhile sheriff of Abilene, cowboy, tramp, prospector,
gunman, and many other interesting things, proffered a highly engraved
calling-card. Again he bowed profoundly, his hat in his hand, a white
carnation in his buttonhole and rapture in his heart. He had seen Louise
again--Louise, leaning forward, staring at him incredulously. Wouldn't
the Rose Girl be surprised? She was.
"I can't say that I quite understand--" began Stone.
"Why, it's the man who borrowed my pony!" exclaimed Louise.
"Correct, Miss. I--I come to thank you for lendin' me the cayuse that
time."
Walter Stone simply had to laugh. "Come up and rest after your trip up
the cañon. Of course, you want to see Collie. He told me about your
finding the claim. Says you have given him a quarter-interest. I'm glad
you're doing well."
"I took a little run in to Los to get some new tires. The desert eats
'em up pretty fast. The Guzzuh, she cast her off hind shoe the other
day. I was scared she'd go lame. Bein' up this way, I thought I'd roll
up and see Collie."
"The 'Guzzuh'?" queried Stone. "You rode up, then?"
"Nope. The Guzzuh is me little old racin'-car. I christened her that
right after I got so as I could climb on to her without her pitchin' me
off. She's some bronc' she is."
Overland Red, despite his outward regeneration, was Overland Red still,
only a little more so. His overwhelming apparel accentuated his
peculiarities, his humorous gestures, his silent self-consciousness. But
there was something big, forceful, and wholesouled about the man,
something that attracted despite his incongruities.
Anne Marshall was at once--as she told Louise later--"desperately
interested." Dr. Marshall saw in Overland a new and exceedingly virile
type. Even gentle Aunt Eleanor received the irrepressible with
unmistakable welcome. She had heard much of his history from Collie.
Overland was as irresistible as the morning sun. While endeavoring
earnestly to "do the genteel," as he had assured Winthrop he would when
he left him to make this visit, Overland had literally taken them by
storm.
Young Dr. Marshall studied him, racking his memory for a name. Presently
he turned to his wife. "What was Billy's partner's name--the miner? I've
forgotten."
"A Mr. Summers, I believe. Yes, I'm sure. Jack Summers, Billy called him
in his letters."
"Just a minute," said the doctor, turning to Overland, who sat,
huge-limbed, smiling, red-visaged, happy. "Pardon me. You said Mr. Jack
Summers, I believe? Do you happen to know a Mr. Winthrop, Billy
Winthrop?"
"Me? What, Billy? Billy Winthrop? Say, is this me? I inhaled a whole lot
of gasoline comin' up that grade, but I ain't feelin' dizzy. Billy
Winthrop? Why--" And his exclamation subsided as he asked cautiously,
"Did you know him?"
"I am his sister," said Anne Marshall.
Overland was dumbfounded. "His sister," he muttered. "The one he writ to
in New York. Huh! Yes, me and Billy's pardners."
"Is he--is he better?" asked Anne hesitatingly.
"Better! Say, lady, excuse me if I tell you he's gettin' so blame frisky
that he's got me scared. Why, I left him settin' on a rock eatin' a
sardine san'wich with one hand and shootin' holes in all the tin cans in
sight with the other. 'So long, Red!' he hollers as I lit out with the
burro to cross the range. 'So long, and don't let your feet slip.' And
_Pom!_ goes the .45 that he was jugglin' and another tin can passed
over. He takes a bite from the san'wich and then, _Pom!_ goes the gun
again and another tin can bites the dust, jest as free and easy as if he
wasn't keepin' guard over thirty or forty thousand dollars' worth of
gold-dust and trouble, and jest as if he ain't got no lungs at all."
"Billy must have changed a little," ventured Dr. Marshall, smiling.
"Changed? Excuse me, ladies. But when I first turned my lamps on him in
Los, I says to myself if there wasn't a fella with one foot in the grave
and the other on a banana-peel, I was mistook. And listen! He come out
to the Mojave with me. He jest almost cried to come. I was scared it was
vi'lets and 'Gather at the River,' without the melodeum, for him. But
you never see a fella get such a chest! Search me if I knows where he
got it from, for he wasn't much bigger around in the works than a
mosquito when I took him up there. And eat! My Gosh, he can eat! And a
complexion like a Yaqui. And he can sleep longer and harder and louder
than a corral of gradin' mules on Saturday night! 'Course he's slim
yet, but it's the kind of slim like rawhide that you could hobble a
elephant with. And, say, he's a pardner on your life! Believe me, and
I'm listenin' to myself, too."
"His lungs are better, then?"
"Lungs? He ain't got none. They're belluses--prime California skirtin'
leather off the back. Lady, that kid is a wonder."
"I'm awfully glad Billy is better. He _must_ be, judging from what you
tell me."
"I wisht I'd 'a' had him runnin' the 'Guzzuh' instead of that little
chicken-breasted chaffer they three-shelled on to me in Los Angeles. I
hired him because they said I 'd better take him along until I was some
better acquainted with the machine. The Guzzuh ain't no ordinary
bronc'."
"The 'Guzzuh'?" queried Dr. Marshall.
"Uhuh. That's what I christened her. She's a racer. She's sixty
hoss-power, and sometimes I reckon I could handle sixty hosses easier to
once than I could her. We was lopin' along out in the desert, 'bout
fifty miles an hour by the leetle clock on the dashboard, when all of a
sudden she lays back her ears and she bucks. I leans back and keeps her
head up, but it ain't no use. She gives a jump or two and says
'_Guzzuh!_' jest like that, and quits. I climbs out and looked her over.
She sure was balky. I was glad she said _somethin'_, if it was only
'Guzzuh,' instead of quittin' on me silent and scornful. Sounded like
she was apologizin' for stoppin' up like that. I felt of her chest and
she was pretty much het up. When she cooled off, I started her
easy--sort of grazin' along pretendin' we wasn't goin' to lope again.
When she got her second wind I give her her head, and she let out and
loped clean into the desert town, without makin' a stumble or castin' a
shoe. Paid three thousand for her in Los. She is guaranteed to do eighty
miles on the level, and she does a whole lot of other things that ain't
jest on the level. She'd climb a back fence if you spoke right to her. A
sand-storm ain't got nothin' on her when she gets her back up."
"Your car must be unique," suggested Walter Stone.
"Nope. She ain't a 'Yew-neck.' I forget her brand. I ain't had her very
long. But I can run her now better than that little
two-dollar-and-a-half excuse they lent me in Los. He loses his nerve
comin' up the cañon there. You see the Guzzuh got to friskin' round the
turns on her hind feet. So I gives him a box of candy to keep him quiet
and takes the reins myself. I got my foot in the wrong stirrup on the
start--was chokin' off her wind instead of feedin' her. Then I got my
foot on the giddap-dingus and we come. The speed-clock's limit is ninety
miles an hour and we busted the speed clock comin' down that last
grade. But we're here."
Dr. Marshall and Walter Stone gazed at each other. They laughed.
Overland smiled condescendingly. Anne Marshall had recourse to her
handkerchief, but Louise did not smile.
"Does Billy ever drive your car?" asked Anne Marshall presently.
"He drives her in the desert and in the hills some. He drove her into a
sand-hill once clean up to her withers. When he came back,--he kind of
went ahead a spell to look over the ground, so he says,--he apologizes
to her like a gent. Oh, he likes her more 'n I do. Bruck two
searchlights at one hundred dollars a glim, but that's nothin'. Oh, yes,
Billy's got good nerve."
Overland shifted his foot to his other knee and leaned back luxuriously,
puffing fluently at his cigar.
"Billy did get to feelin' kind of down, a spell back. He had a argument
with a Gophertown gent about our claim. I wasn't there at the time, but
when I come back, I tied up Billy's leg--"
"Goodness! His leg?" exclaimed Anne.
"Yes, ma'am. The Gophertown gent snuck up and tried to stick Billy up
when Billy was readin' po'try--some of mine. Billy didn't scare so easy.
He reaches for his gun. Anyhow, the Gophertown gent's bullet hit a rock,
and shied up and stung Billy in the leg. Billy never misses a tin can
now'days, and the gent was bigger than a can. We never seen nothin' of
him again."
"Gracious, it's perfectly awful!" cried Anne.
"Yes, lady. That's what Billy said. He said he didn't object to gettin'
shot at, but he did object to gettin' hit, especially when he was
readin' po'try. Said it kind of bruck his strand of thought. That guy
was no gent."
Walter Stone again glanced at Dr. Marshall. Aunt Eleanor rose, bidding
the men good-night. Louise and Mrs. Marshall followed somewhat
reluctantly. Stone disappeared to return with cigars, whiskey and
seltzer, which he placed at Overland's elbow. "My friend Dr. Marshall is
an Easterner," he said.
Overland waved a comprehending hand, lit another cigar, and settled
back. "Now I can take the hobbles off and talk nacheral. When you gents
want me to stop, just say 'Guzzuh.'"