BRILL HEALY AIRS HIS SENTIMENTS
To Phyllis, riding from school near the close of a hot Friday afternoon
along the old Fort Lincoln Trail, came the voice of Brill Healy from the
ridge above. She waved to him the broad-brimmed hat she was carrying in
her hand, and he guided his pony deftly down the edge of the steep
slope.
"Been looking for some strays down at Three Pines," he explained. "Awful
glad I met you."
"Where were you going now?" she asked.
"Home, I reckon; but I'll ride with you to Seven Mile if you don't
mind."
She looked at her watch. "It's just five-thirty. We'll be in time for
supper, and you can ride home afterward."
"I guess you know that will suit me, Phyllis," he answered, with a
meaning look from his dark eyes.
"Supper suits most healthy men so far as I've noticed," she said
carelessly, her glance sweeping keenly over him before it passed to the
purple shadowings that already edged the mouth of a distant cañon.
"I'll bet it does when they can sit opposite Phyl Sanderson to eat it."
She frowned a little, the while he took her in out of half-shut,
smoldering eyes, as one does a picture in a gallery. In truth, one might
have ridden far to find a living picture more vital and more suggestive
of the land that had cradled and reared her.
His gaze annoyed her, without her quite knowing why. "I wish you
wouldn't look at me all the time," she told him with the boyish
directness that still occasionally lent a tang to her speech.
"And if I can't help it?" he laughed.
"Fiddlesticks! You don't have to say pretty things to me, Brill Healy,"
she told him.
"I don't say them because I have to."
"Then I wish you wouldn't say them at all. There's no sense in it when
you've known a girl eighteen years."
"Known and loved her eighteen years. It's a long time, Phyl."
Her eyes rained light derision on him. "It would be if it were true. But
then one has to forget truth when one is sentimental, I reckon."
"I'm not sentimental. I tell you I'm in love," he answered.
"Yes, Brill. With yourself. I've known that a long time, but not quite
eighteen years," she mocked.
"With you," he made answer, and something of sullenness had by this time
crept into his voice. "I've got as much right to love you as any one
else, haven't I? As much right as that durned waddy, Keller?"
Fire flashed in her eyes. "If you want to know, I despise you when you
talk that way."
The anger grew in him. "What way? When I say anything against the
rustler, do you mean? Think I'm blind? Think I can't see how you're
running after him, and making a fool of yourself about him?"
"How dare you talk that way to me?" she flamed, and gave her surprised
pony a sharp stroke with the quirt.
Five minutes later the bronchos fell again to a walk, and Healy took up
the conversation where it had dropped.
"No use flying out like that, Phyl. I only say what any one can see.
Take a look at the facts. You meet up with him making his getaway after
he's all but caught rustling. Now, what do you do?"
"I don't believe he was rustling at all."
"Course you don't _believe_ it. That proves just what I was saying."
"Jim doesn't believe it, either."
"Yeager's opinion don't have any weight with me. I want to tell you
right now that the boys are getting mighty leary of Jim. He's getting
too thick with that Bear Creek bunch."
"Brill Healy, I never saw anybody so bigoted and pig-headed as you are,"
the girl spoke out angrily. "Any one with eyes in his head could see
that Jim is as straight as a string. He couldn't be crooked if he
tried. Long as you've known him I should think you wouldn't need to be
told that."
"Oh, _you_ say so," he growled sullenly.
"Everybody says so. Jim Yeager of all men," she scoffed. Then, with a
flash of angry eyes at him, "How would you like it if your friends
rounded on you? By all accounts, you're not quite a plaster saint. I've
heard stories."
"What about?"
"Oh, gambling and drinking. What of it? That's _your_ business. One
doesn't have to believe all the talk that is flying around." She spoke
with a kind of fine scorn, for she was a girl of large generosities.
"We've all got enemies, I reckon," he said sulkily.
"You're Phil's friend, and mine, too, of course. I dare say you have
your faults like other men, but I don't have to listen to people while
they try to poison my mind against you. What's more, I don't."
She had been agile-minded enough to shift the attack and put him upon
the defensive, but now Healy brought the question back to his original
point.
"That's all very well, Phyl, but we weren't talking about me, but about
you. When you found this Keller making his escape you buckled in and
helped him. You tied up his wound and took him to Yeager's and lied for
him to us. That's bad enough, but later you did a heap worse."
"In saving him from being lynched by you?"
"Before that you made a fuss about him and had to tie up his wounds. I
had a cut on _my_ cheek, but I notice you didn't tie it up!"
"I'm surprised at you, Brill. I didn't think you were so small; and just
because I didn't let a wounded man suffer."
"You can put it that way if you want to," he laughed unpleasantly.
Her passion flared again. "You and your insinuations! Who made you the
judge over my actions? You talk as if you were my father. If you've got
to reform somebody, let it be yourself."
"I'm the man that is going to be your husband," he said evenly. "That
gives me a right."
"Never! Don't think it," she flung back. "I'd not marry you if you were
the last man on earth."
"You'll see. I'll not let a scoundrel like Keller come between us. No,
nor Yeager, either. Nor Buck Weaver himself. I notice he was right
attentive before he went home."
Resentment burned angrily on her cheek. "Anybody else?" she asked
quietly.
"That's all for just now. You're a natural-born flirt, Phyllis. That's
what's the matter with you."
"Thank you, Mr. Healy. You're the only one of my friends that has been
so honest with me," she assured him sweetly.
"I'm the only one of them that is going to marry you. Don't think I'll
let Keller butt in. Not on your life."
Her rage broke bounds. "I never in my life heard of anything so
insolent. Never! _You'll_ not let me do this or that. Who are you, Brill
Healy?"
"I've told you. I'm the man that means to marry you," he persisted
doggedly.
"You never will. I'm not thinking of marrying, but when I do I'll not
ask for your indorsement. Be sure of that."
"I'll not stand it! He'd better look out!"
"Who do you mean?"
"Keller, that's who I mean. This thing is hanging over his head yet.
He's got to come through with proofs he ain't a rustler, or he's got to
pull his freight out of the Malpais country."
"And if he won't?"
"We'll finish that little business you interrupted," he told her, riding
his triumph roughshod over her feelings.
"You wouldn't, Brill! Not when there is a doubt about it. Jim says he is
innocent, and I believe he is. Surely you wouldn't!"
"You'll see."
"If you do I'll never speak to you again! Never, as long as I live; and
I'll never rest till I have you in the penitentiary for his murder!" she
cried tensely.
"And yet you don't care anything about him. You've just been kind to him
out of charity," he mocked.
For some minutes they had seen Seven Mile Ranch lying below them in the
faint twilight. They rode the rest of the way in silence, each of them
too bitter for speech. When they reached the house, she swung from the
saddle and he kept his seat, for both of them considered her supper
invitation and his acceptance cancelled.
He bowed ironically and turned to leave.
"Just a moment, Brill," called an excited voice. "I've got a piece of
news that will make you sit up."
The speaker was the young mule skinner known as Cuffs. He came running
out to the porch and fired his bolt.
"The First National Bank at Noches was held up two hours ago, and the
robbers got away with their loot after shooting three or four men!"
"Two hours ago," the girl repeated. "You got it over the phone, of
course."
"Yep. Slim called me up just now. He got back right this minute from
following their trail. They lost the fellows in the hills. Four of 'em,
Slim says, and he thinks they're headed this way."
"What makes him think so?" asked Healy.
"He figures they are Bear Creek men. One of them was recognized. It was
that fellow Keller."
"Keller!" Phyllis and Healy cried the word together.
Cuffs nodded. "Slim says he can swear to his hawss, and he's plumb sure
about the man, too. He wants we should organize a posse and nail them as
they go into the Pass for Bear Creek. He figures we'll have time to do
it if we jump. Noches is fifty-five miles from here, and about forty
from the Pass.
"With their bronchs loaded they can't make it in much less than five
hours. That gives us most three hours to reach the Pass and stop them.
What think, Brill? Can we make it?"
"We'll try damned hard. I'm not going to let Mr. Rustler Keller slip
through my fingers again!" Healy cried triumphantly.
"I don't believe it was Bear Creek men at all. I'm sure it wasn't Mr.
Keller," Phyllis cried, with a face like parchment.
There was an unholy light of vindictive triumph in Healy's face. "We'll
show you about that, Miss Missouri. Get the boys together, Cuffs. Call
up Purdy and Jim Budd and Tom Dixon on the phone. Rustle up as many of
the boys as you can. Start 'em for the Pass just as soon as they get
here. I'm going right up there now. Probably I can't stop them, but I
may make out who they are. Notify Buck Weaver, so he can head them off
if they try to cross the Malpais. And get a move on you. Hustle the boys
right along."
And with that he put spurs to his horse and galloped off.