It may appear a strange thing that Lynette Brooke slept at all that
night. But a fatigued body, healthy and young, demanded its right, and
she did sleep and sleep well. A far stranger thing was that, after
she had sat in the dark a long time, there had at last come a queer
little smile upon her lips and into her eyes, and she had gone to sleep
smiling!
For in the deep black silence her quick mind had been busy, never so
busy; out of tiny scraps it had constructed a mental patchwork. Nor
were all dark-hued threads weaving in and out of it; here and there the
sombre pattern had bright-hued spots. Her courage was high, her hopes
always at surging high tide; her senses keen. And, after all, Bruce
Standing was a blunt, forthright man, in no degree subtle....
He had given her the impression an hour ago of being entirely
brute beast. That was true. Further, she told herself with growing
conviction, that it had been his great intent to make her regard him
as brute and beast; she had angered him, she had drawn upon herself
his vengeful wrath; he meant to make her pay; and his first step had
been to make her afraid of him.... She went on to other thoughts; Bruce
Standing was the man to defy Gallup in his own lair; the man to defy
the sheriff; to hurl an axe at an armed deputy ... and yet the only man
in Big Pine to lift an angry hand against the unfair play of shutting
little Mexicali Joe up in jail! He, alone, had not sought to steal
Joe's secret; he alone was ready, against all odds, to throw the door
back and let Joe go. Not altogether that the part of the brute and
beast!
Another thing: Bruce Standing did not lie. She _knew_ that. And he was
not a coward; he did not do petty, cowardly things.... He meant her
to believe that there was nothing too cruel and merciless for him to
inflict upon her. Yet she had struck him in the face with a stone; she
had struck him with her hands, and he had not so much as bruised the
skin of her wrists with his big hard hands!... Eager he had been to
humiliate her, calling her his slave; eagerly, as soon as he had read
her pride, he grasped at the first means of torturing it. Why that
great eagerness ... unless he, despite his threat, was casting about in
rather blind fashion for means to make her pay?... He wanted her to be
afraid of him ... and it came to her in the dark, so that she smiled,
that this was because there was little for her to fear!
"In his rage," she told herself, and, fettered as she was, a first
gleam of triumph visited her, "he came roaring after me. And, now he
has me, he doesn't know what to do with me! To make me his unwilling
slave ... _unwilling_!... that is all that he can think of now."
And again there was comfort in the thought:
"If he meant to harm me, why should he have let me go to-night? An
angry man, bent upon real brute vengeance, would have struck at the
first opportunity. The opportunity was when he sent Babe Deveril away
and had me to do what he pleased with. And he only played the perfectly
silly game of making me his slave ... _unwilling_...."
It was the thoughts which rose with the word that put the little smile
into her eyes and brought the first softening of her troubled lips....
Several times she heard him stirring restlessly; once he awakened
her with his muttering, and she knew that he was asleep, but that
either his wound pained him or his sleep was disturbed by unwelcome
dreams--perhaps both.
Bruce Standing woke and sat up in the early chill dawn. He looked
swiftly to where Lynette lay. She appeared to be plunged in deep,
restful sleep. She lay comfortably snuggled in among the boughs; the
curve of one arm was up about her face, so that he could not see her
eyes. Naturally he believed them shut; her breathing was low and quiet,
exactly as it should have been were she really fast asleep.... She
looked pretty and tiny and tired out, but resting. Suddenly he frowned
savagely. But he sat for a long time without stirring.
Lynette put up her arms and stretched and yawned sleepily, and then,
like a little girl of six, put her knuckles into her eyes. Then she,
too, sat up quickly.
"Oh," she said brightly. "Are you awake already? And making not a
bit of noise, so as to let me have my sleep out? Good morning, Mr.
Timber-Wolf!"
She was smiling at him! Smiling with soft red lips and gay eyes!
He frowned and with a sudden lurch was on his feet.
"Come," he said harshly. "I want to make an early start."
She sprang to her feet as though all eagerness, exclaiming brightly:
"If you'll get the fire started, I'll have breakfast in a minute! There
isn't much in the larder, but you'll see what a nice breakfast I can
make of it. Then I'll dress your wound and we'll be on our way."
"Look here," muttered Standing, swinging about to stare at her, "what
the devil are you up to?"
"What do you mean?" she asked innocently.
"I mean this cheap play-acting stuff ... as though you were as happy as
a bird!"
"Why, I always believe in making the best of a bad mess, don't you?"
she retorted. "And, after all, how do you know that I'm not as happy as
a bird? I nearly always am."
His eyes were blazing, his face flushed; she saw that she was lashing
him into rage. She began to fear that she had gone too far; for the
present she would go no farther. But meanwhile she gave him no hint of
any trepidation, but kept the clear, unconcerned look in her eyes.
He strode away from her, toward the charred remains of last night's
fire. He held her chain in his hand; she hurried along after him, so
that not once could the links tighten; so that not once could he feel
that he was dragging an unwilling captive behind him. Her heart was
beating like mad; she was aquiver with excitement over the working out
of her scheme, yet she gave him no inkling of any kind of nervousness.
"I don't know what you are up to and I don't care," he said abruptly.
"You are to do what you are told, girl."
"Of course!" she said quickly. "I understand that. I am ready...."
"I am going to take the chain off you now, simply because I don't need
it during daylight. But you're not to run away; if you try it I'll run
you down and drag you back. Do you understand? And after that I'll keep
you chained up."
"I understand," she nodded again. And, when he had removed the chain
from her waist, all the time not looking at her while she, all the
time, stood smiling, she said a quiet "Thank you."
"While I get some wood," he went on, "you can take some cans and go
down to the creek for water. I'll trust you that far ... and don't
you trust too much to the screen of willows to give you a chance for
a getaway! I tell you, I'd overhaul you as sure as there is a God in
heaven!"
She caught up two cans and went down the slope toward the creek. To
keep him from guessing how, all of a sudden, her heart was fluttering
again, she sang a little song as she went. He stared after her, puzzled
and wondering. Then with a short, savage grunt, he began gathering wood.
Was now her time? This her chance? She sang more loudly, clearly and
cheerily. She wanted to look back to see if he was watching her every
step; yet she beat down the temptation, knowing that if he did watch
and did see her turn he would know that she was overeager for flight.
She came to the creek; she passed carelessly about a little clump of
willows. Now she looked back, peering through the branches. He was
stooping, gathering wood; his back was to her!
"_Now!_" her impulses cried within her. "_Now!_"
She looked about her hurriedly, in all directions. There was so much
open country here; big pines, wide-spaced. If she ran down the slope
he must surely see her when she had gone fifty or a hundred yards. And
then he'd be after her! If she turned to right or left, the case was
almost the same. If it were only dark! But the sun was rising....
She began singing again, so that he might hear. A sudden anger blazed
up within her. With all his blunt ways, the man was not without his own
sort of shrewdness; he had known that she had no chance here to escape
him; no chance for such a head start as to give her an even break in a
race with him.
... After ten minutes she came back to him; she carried a dripping can
in each hand; she had bathed hands and arms and face and throat; she
had combed her hair out through her fingers, making new thick braids,
with loosely curling ends. She had taken time to twist those soft ends
about her fingers. He was standing over his newly built fire; his
rifle, with the chain tossed across it, lay against a rock; he gave no
sign of noting her approach.... Yet, while they ate a hurriedly warmed
breakfast, she caught him several times looking at her curiously....
Her heart began again to beat happily; never was hope long departed
from the breast of Lynette Brooke. She kept telling herself, over and
over, that he was not going to be brute and beast to her. Soon or late
she would find her chance for escape from him; she would let him think
her that weakling which it was his way to regard women in general;
there would come the time when, once more free, she could laugh at
him.... And she, when he did not observe, looked curiously at him many
a time.
When they had eaten and he had gathered up the few scraps of food and
had very carefully extinguished the last ember of their fire, he wound
the chain about his middle again, caught up the rifle and said briefly
and still without looking at her:
"Come."
She followed him, neither hesitating nor questioning; thus she was
gleefully sure she angered him.... She wondered what the day held in
store for her; she wondered what of good and bad lay ahead; and yet
she was now less filled with terror than with the burning zest for
life itself. Bruce Standing had told her that he was going to keep an
appointment; he had been the man to release Mexicali Joe; Mexicali Joe
had whispered something and Standing had laughed; Mexicali Joe was now
ahead of them, pretending to lead Taggart and Gallup and Cliff Shipton
to his gold! Her thoughts were busy enough and she, like her silent
companion, had small need for talk.
She wondered about Babe Deveril; how badly hurt he had been after Bruce
Standing's mauling; what he was doing now; where he was? A hundred
times that morning, hearing bird or squirrel and once a leaping buck,
she looked to see Babe Deveril bursting back upon them.... Had he
not gone far, last night? Had he remained near their camp and was he
following them to-day?...
They passed over a ridge and turned into a little cup of a green
valley; Standing, stalking ahead of her, went to a thicket and drew
from it a saddle and bridle and saddle blankets and a small canvas
pack. Then, standing with his hands on his hips, staring off in all
directions, he whistled shrilly. Whistled, and waited listening, and
whistled again. Lynette heard, from far off, the quick, glad _whicker_
of a horse. And here came the horse galloping; kicking up its heels;
shaking its head with flying mane; circling, snorting, with lowered
head; at standstill for a moment, a golden sorrel with snow-white mane
and tail; a mount for even Timber-Wolf, lover of horses, to be proud to
own and ride and whistle to through the forest land.... Lynette looked
swiftly at Standing's face; he was smiling; his eyes were bright.
He went forward and stroked his horse's satiny nose and wreathed a hand
in the mane and led the animal to the saddle, calling him softly, "Good
old Daylight." The horse nosed him; Standing laughed out loud and smote
the great shoulder with open palm.... Lynette saw with clear vision
that there was a great love between man and animal; and she thought
of another horse, Sunlight, slaughtered at Young Gallup's orders,
and of Standing's lisping rage and of her own nervous, uncontrollable
laughter....
There came a deep, ugly growling--a throaty, wolfish menace, almost at
her heels. She whirled about and cried out in sudden startled fright.
"Lie down Thor!" Standing shouted sternly. "Down, sir!"
Lynette had never seen a dog like this one, big and lean and
forbidding; as tall as a calf in her suddenly frightened eyes, wolfish
looking, with stiff bristles rising along powerful neck and back, and
eyes red-rimmed, and sharp-toothed mouth slavering. At Standing's
command the great dog, which had come upon her on such noiseless pads,
dropped to the ground as though a bullet instead of a commanding voice
had drilled its heart. But still the steady eyes filled with suspicion
and menace were fixed on her.
"He'd tear your throat out if I gave the word," said Standing. "Now you
do what I tell you; go to him and set your hand on his head!"
"I won't!" she cried out sharply, drawing back. The deep, throaty growl
came again; the dog's lips trembled and withdrew from the long, wolfish
teeth; the whole gaunt form was aquiver....
"But you will! Otherwise.... He'll not hurt you when once I tell him
not to. Go to him; put your hand on his head.... Afraid?" he jeered.
She was afraid. Sick-afraid. And yet she gave her taunter one withering
glance and stepped swiftly, though her flesh quivered, to the dog.
"Steady, Thor!" cried Standing sternly. "You dog, steady, sir!"
The dog growled and the teeth were like evil, poisonous fangs. Yet
Lynette came another step toward him; she stooped; she put forward her
hand....
"_Thor!_" Standing's voice rang out, filled with warning. Thor began
whining.
Lynette put her hand upon the big head. Thor trembled. Suddenly he
lay flat, belly down; the head between the outstretched fore paws. He
whined again. Standing laughed and began bridling and saddling his
horse. Thor jumped up and frisked about his master; Standing fondled
him, as he had fondled Daylight, by striking him resoundingly.
"To play safe," he flung over his shoulder at Lynette, "better come
here."
When she had drawn close Standing stooped and patted the dog's head.
Then, while Thor, snarling, looked on, he put out his hand and placed
it for a fleeting instant upon Lynette's shoulder.
"Good dog," he said quietly.
Then he caught up her hand and placed it on Thor's head, cupped under
his own.
"Good dog," he said again. And then he told Lynette to call the dog.
She did so, saying in an uncertain voice:
"Here, Thor!... Come here, Thor!"
"Thor!" cried Standing commandingly. "Good dog!"
Thor trembled, but he went to her. He allowed her to pat him. Then,
with a suddenness which startled her, he shot out a red tongue to lick
her hand. Standing burst into sudden pleased laughter.
"Your friend ... so long as I don't set him on you!" he cried out.
"You are a beast ... who herd with beasts!" she said, shuddering.
He laughed again and finished drawing tight cinch and strapping latigo.
He tied his small pack at the strings behind the saddle and said
briefly:
"Since we're in a hurry, suppose you ride while I walk alongside? We'll
make better time that way."
She was ashamed of herself--that she should have been afraid of a dog!
Now she was Lynette again, quick and capable and confident. He was
going to lend her a hand to mount; she forestalled him and went up into
the saddle like a flash. It was in her thought to take him by surprise;
to give Daylight his head and race away out of sight among the pines....
But he was scarcely less quick; his hand shot out, catching Daylight's
reins; he unwound the chain from about his middle and snapped the catch
into the horse's bit.... And she began to analyze, thinking:
"He took time to explain why he let me ride while he walked! He is less
beast and brute than he knows himself!... Less beast and brute than
... simple humbug!" And, before they had gone ten steps, he heard her
humming the air which she had sung at breakfast time.
"Damn it," he muttered under his breath, not for her to hear. "The
little devil ... she's taking advantage of me, every advantage. She....
Just the same ... just the same...."
And he, too, was wondering about Babe Deveril!
"We go this way," he said. "I'll lead; you follow."
"I know!" cried Lynette; she could not hold the words back. "Toward
Buck Valley and Big Bear Creek ... and Mexicali Joe. And...."
"And what?" he demanded, snatching at her chain, sensing that something
of import lay behind the abruptly checked words.
She only laughed at him.