SILENT SAUNDERS SPEAKS
Meanwhile Collie kept a vigilant eye on Silent Saunders. The other,
somewhat sullenly but efficiently, attended to his work. Collie's
vigilance was rewarded unexpectedly and rather disagreeably.
One day, as he stood stroking Black Boyar's neck, he happened to glance
across the yard. Saunders was saddling one of the horses in the corral.
Louise, astride Boyar, spoke to Collie of some detail of the ranch work,
purposely prolonging the conversation. Something of the Collie of the
Oro barbecue had vanished. In its stead was an inexplicable but positive
quality of masterfulness, apparent in poise and manner.
Louise, because she knew him so well, was puzzled and curious. She could
not account for the change. She was frankly interested in him in spite
of, or perhaps because of, his early misfortunes. Instinctively she felt
that he had gained a moral confidence in himself. His physical
excellence and ability had always been manifest. This morning, his
grave, dark eyes, upturned to her face as he caressed Boyar, were
disconcertingly straightforward. He seemed to be drinking his fill of
her beauty. His quick smile, still boyish, and altogether irresistible,
flashed as she spoke humorously of his conquest of the outlaw colt Yuma.
"I learned more--ridin' that cayuse for two minutes--than I ever expect
to learn again in that time."
Remembering that she had been first to reach him when he was thrown, the
fresh bloom of her cheeks deepened. Her eyelids drooped for an instant.
"One can learn a great deal quickly, sometimes," she said. Then added,
for he had smiled again,--"About horses."
"And folks." He spoke quietly and lifted her gauntleted hand, touching
it lightly with his lips. So swift, so unexpected had been his homage
that she did not realize it until it was irrevocably paid.
"Why, Collie!"
"Because you wasn't ashamed to help a guy in front of the others."
"Please don't say 'guy.' And why should I be ashamed to help any of our
boys?" she said, laughing. She had quite recovered herself.
"'Course you wouldn't be. But this is a kind of 'good-bye,' too. I was
going to ask you to mail this letter to Overland Red. I told him in it
that I was coming."
"We are sorry that you are leaving," said Louise. "Uncle Walter said you
had spoken to him."
"It isn't the money. I could wait. But I don't feel like taking all that
money and not doing anything for it. I guess Red needs me, too. Brand
says I'm a fool to quit here now. Mebby I am. I like it here; the work
and everything."
Saunders, watching them, saw Collie give Louise a letter. He saw her
tuck it in her waist and rein Boyar round toward the gate.
As Collie came toward the corrals he noticed that Saunders had saddled
the pinto Rally. He was a little surprised. Rally was Walter Stone's
favorite saddle-horse and used by none but him. He knew his employer was
absent. Perhaps Saunders had instructions to bring Rally to the station.
Collie paid no further attention to Saunders until the latter came from
his quarters with a coat and a blanket-roll which he tied to the saddle.
Then Collie became interested. He left the road and climbed the hill
back of the corrals. He watched Saunders astride the pinto as he opened
the gate and spurred through without closing it. That was a little
unusual.
"I feel almost like taking a cayuse and following him," muttered Collie.
"But, no. What for, anyway?"
On a rise far below was Black Boyar, loping along easily. Collie saw him
stop and turn into the Old Meadow Trail. He watched for Saunders to
appear on the road below the ranch. Presently out from the shoulder of a
hill leaped Rally. Saunders was plying quirt and spur. The pinto was
doing his best.
"Something's wrong. I'll just take a chance." And Collie ran to the
corral and roped the Yuma colt. He saddled her, led her a few steps that
she might become used to the feel of the cinchas, and then mounted. He
turned the pony up the hill and sat watching the pinto on the road
below. He saw Saunders draw rein and dismount, apparently searching the
road for something. Then he saw him mount quickly and disappear on the
Old Meadow Trail.
Collie whirled the pony round and down the hill. Through the gateway he
thundered. The steel-sinewed flanks stiffened and relaxed rhythmically
as the hillside flew past. The Yuma colt, half-wild, ran with great
leaps that ate into space. They swept through the first ford. A thin
sheet of water spread on either side of them. The outlaw fought the curb
all the way up the hill beyond. Pebbles clattered from her hoofs and
spun skyward as she raced along the level of the hilltop.
Down the next grade the pony swung, taking the turns with short leaps.
On the crest Collie checked her. The road beyond, clear to the valley,
was empty.
He examined the tracks entering the Old Meadow Trail. He had not been
mistaken. Saunders had ridden in. Mounting, Collie spurred through the
greasewood, trusting to the pony's natural activity and sure-footedness.
* * * * *
Louise, sitting on the dream-rock in the old meadow, gazed out across
the valley. Black Boyar stood near with trailing bridle-reins.
Despite herself the girl kept recalling Collie's face as he had talked
with her at the ranch. Admiration she had known before and many
times--adoration never, until that morning.
For a long time she dreamed. The shadows of the greasewood lengthened.
The air grew cooler. Louise ended her soliloquy by saying aloud: "He's a
nice boy, though. I do hope he will keep as he is."
Boyar, lifting his head, nickered and was answered by Rally, entering
the meadow. Silent Saunders rode up hurriedly.
"Why, Saunders,--what is it? That's Rally! Were you going to meet Uncle
Walter?"
"No, Miss. I'm in a hurry. Just hand over that letter that young Collie
give to you at the ranch. I want it. I mean business."
"You want the letter? What do you mean? What right have you--"
"No right. Only I want it. I don't want to make trouble."
"You! A Western man, and speak that way to a woman! Saunders, I'm
ashamed to think you ever worked for us."
"Oh, I know you got nerve. But I'm in a hurry. Hand it over. Then you
can call me anything you like."
"I shall not hand it over."
"All right. I got to have it."
The girl, her gray eyes blazing with indignation, backed away as he
strode toward her. "You'd dare, would you?" And as Saunders laughed she
cut him across the face with her quirt.
His face, streaked with the red welt of the rawhide, grew white as he
controlled his anger. He leaped at her and had his hands on her when she
struck him again with all her strength. He staggered back, his hand to
his eyes.
A wild rush of hoofs, a shock, a crash, and he was beneath the plunging
feet of the Yuma colt. The pony flashed past, her head jerking up.
Louise saw Collie leap to the ground and come running back.
Saunders, rolling to his side, reached for his holster, when he saw that
in Collie's hand which precluded further argument.
"Don't get up!" said Collie quietly. "I never killed a man--but I'm
going to, quick, if you lift a finger."
Saunders kept still. Collie stepped round behind him. "Now, get up,
slow," he commanded.
When Saunders was on his feet, Collie reached forward and secured his
gun.
"I'll send your check to the store," said Louise, addressing Saunders.
"I shall tell Mr. Stone that I discharged you. I don't believe I had
better tell the men about this."
"Beat it, Saunders," said Collie, laughing. "You are leaving here afoot,
which suits me fine. Red would be plumb happy to know it."
"Red's goin' to walk into my lead some of these days."
"That's some day. This is to-day," said Collie.
Saunders, turning, gazed covetously at the pinto Rally. Collie saw, and
smiled. "I missed twice. The third trick is goin' to be mine. Don't you
forget that, Mister Kid," said Saunders.
"Oh, you here yet?" said Collie; and he was not a little gratified to
notice that Saunders limped as he struck off down the trail.