Life was pleasant for Nettie Day at the Bar Q,
where, in the pink and white gingham house
dresses supplied by Mrs. Langdon, she looked prettier
every day.
The clean and spacious ranch house, shining with
sunlight, was a revelation to the girl who had lived all
of her life in the two rooms of the poor shack with her
parents and her nine little brothers and sisters.
It flattered the vanity of Bull Langdon to have a
"show place" on the Banff National Highway. He had
built the main ranch house upon the crest of a hill that
commanded the road to Banff, and the wide, rambling
buildings, ornate in design and brightly painted, had
been placed where they would show up well from the
road, so that all who traveled along the highway would
slow up for a view of the Bar Q.
Nettie's advent was both a surprise and a joy to the
wife of the cattleman, who took a childish pride in at
last "keeping a girl."
For a number of years the Bar Q had maintained a
cook car, whither the "hands" went for "grub." It was
on such a vehicle that Angela Loring had served. Now
a thin and musty smelling Chinaman dominated the car,
a shrinking, silent figure, who banged down the chow
before the men, and paid no heed to protest or squabble,
save when the "boss" came in, when Chum Lee became
frenziedly busy. In winter, the Chinaman was moved
to the Pure-Bred Bull camp at Barstairs, and the men
left at the foothill ranch, "batched" in the bunkhouses.
Though the main cooking was done on the cook car,
there yet remained an enormous amount of work at the
ranch house, for besides the housework, the bread and
butter for the ranch were made there by Mrs. Langdon.
She "put down" the pork in brine, cured and smoked it;
made hundreds of pounds of lard, sausage meat, headcheese,
corned beef and other meat products. She made
the soap, looked after the poultry and vegetable garden,
she canned quantities of fruit and vegetables for
the winter months. She was always working, always
running hither and thither about the house, hurrying
to "have things ready," for her husband had a greedy
appetite, and her mind was exclusively occupied in devising
ways and means of propitiating and pacifying
him.
Of late, however, her health had been visibly failing.
The long years of hard work, the tragedy of the yearly
still-born baby, life and association with the overbearing
cattleman had gradually taken their toll of the
strength of Bull Langdon's wife.
Bull was what is known in the cattle world as a
"night rider." In the earlier days it was said he did
all of his "dirty work" at night, moving and driving
bunches of cattle under cover of darkness. Rivalry,
strife and bitter enmity are a commonplace of life in
the cattle country, and the Bull vented his vindictive
spite upon his neighbors by slipping their herds out of
pastures and corrals, and driving them over the tops
of canyon and precipice. Those incursions were, however,
events of the past. The cowman was cautious
now that he had arrived at a place of security and
power. Rustling and stealing were dangerous undertakings
in those days when the trails had turned into
highways, and small ranches were beginning to dot the
edges of the range. Moreover, the mounted police were
less easy to influence and intimidate than the former
Indian agents had been.
Night riding had remained one of his habits, however,
and one that told heavily upon the wife, who would
always wait up for his return, with supper always ingratiatingly
ready.
For some time symptoms of a coming breakdown
had been ominously evident to Mrs. Langdon, but she
persistently fought against the prospect of becoming
an invalid. She had an ingenuous faith, imbibed from
tracts and books that had drifted into her hands in her
teaching days; she denied the existence of evil, pain or
illness in the world, and when it pushed its ugly fist
into her face, or wracked her frail body, she had a little
formula that she bravely recited over and over again,
like an incantation, in which she asserted that it was
an error; that she was in the best of health, and that
everything in the world was good and beautiful and in
the image of God. Whether she deluded herself or not,
it is certain that this desperate philosophy, if such it
could be called, was the crutch that had upheld her and
kept her sane throughout the turbulent years of her life
with Bull Langdon, so that she had never lost her faith
in mankind, and had remained curiously innocent of
wrong.
She hailed Nettie's coming, therefore, as a "demonstration"
of her faith, and welcomed the strong, willing,
cheerful girl with a grateful heart and open arms.
It was pleasant for a change, to take things easy;
to have all the heavier work done by the tall, competent
girl, and, better than the relief from the hard labor,
was the companionship of another woman in the ranch
house. Only a woman who has been isolated long from
her own sex can appreciate what it means when another
woman comes into her life.
Nettie would place a rocking chair for her mistress
on the back veranda, bring the basket of mending, and
with her slow, shy smile, say:
"Now, Mrs. Langdon, you fall to on them socks, and
leave me to do the work."
This Mrs. Langdon would do, and Nettie would bring
her work on to the veranda, the one sewing or crocheting,
the other churning and working the butter, kneading
the bread or preparing the vegetables for the day.
Work thus became a pleasure, and Mrs. Langdon's soft
voice chattering of many happy topics made a pleasant
accompaniment to their work. If Nettie went indoors
to work, Mrs. Langdon soon followed her. She took
pride in teaching Nettie her own special recipes, and
they would both laugh and exclaim over the mistakes
or success of the girl, who was all eagerness to learn.
Slowly a feeling warmer than mere friendship drew the
two women together.
Although it was against the rules for the Bar Q
"hands" to come to the ranch house, save when summoned
by the Bull, or on some special errand, Nettie's
presence there was widely known and commented upon,
and many were the ingenious devices invented by the
men to obtain a sight of or a word with the girl. Bull,
however, was more than ever on the watch for an infraction
of this rule, and more than one employee found
himself fired for loitering in the neighborhood of the
ranch house or suffered the indignity and pain of a
blow from the boss's heavy hand. Harvest time came
at last to the prairie, where Bull Langdon had a great
grain ranch, and thither the owner of the Bar Q departed
to superintend the harvesting operations.
From time immemorial lovers have found a way to
meet, and Cyril and Nettie were not long in solving their
own problem.
Nettie Would slip from the house after supper, for
Mrs. Langdon went early to bed, as farmers do. Between
the house and a clump of willows there was a
small field, behind it a deep coulee, where the wild raspberries
and gooseberries grew in profusion. There,
hidden by the thick growth, Nettie would go to pick
berries, stopping ever and anon to listen for a sound
that only she and Cyril understood, the long-drawn
whistle that was like the call of an oriole. At the sound
of that musical note, Nettie would stop picking, and,
with parted lips, shining eyes and beating heart, she
would wait for her lover to come to her in the deep bush.
This was the season when the daylight lingered far
into the night; when the soft light of the late sun lay
romantically upon the still and sleeping land. Young
Cyril and Nettie would sit on a knoll, with the berry
bushes all about and above and below them, and with
clasped hands, thrilling at each other's nearness, they
would murmur their joyful confidences and hopes.
Cyril was what the country folk would have described
as "slow" with girls, and Nettie was as innocent as a
child. She had never had companions of her own age,
not even a girl friend, and Cyril was her first "beau."
This simple holding of hands was rapture for these two,
an exciting adventure that made them tremble with a
vague longing for something more. With the clumsy
shyness of the country boy who has known no women,
it had taken Cyril two weeks to find courage and power
to put his arm awkwardly about the girl's waist. That
daring progress, full of joyous excitement, was the
prelude to something he had not foreseen. The close
pressure of the girl's warm young body against his, the
involuntary raising of her face, as it almost touched
his own, brought the inevitable consequence. For the
first time in either of their lives they kissed. Lost in
that single, ever closer embrace, time and place, knowledge
of all else on earth, vanished from their minds as,
amidst the dense berry bushes, they clung ecstatically
together.
Upon their blissful dream, a harsh voice broke. Even
as they drew apart, still heavy with the lassitude of the
new rapture they had but just discovered, they dimly
recognized the voice of Bull Langdon. From somewhere
in the direction of the corrals, he was calling for
his "hands." They could hear him cursing, and knew
he must have ridden up noiselessly, and annoyed at
finding no one about the place was venting his temper
in this fashion.
"Oh, my!" murmured Nettie, drawing half out of
Cyril's arms and unconsciously leaning towards him,
"he'll be wantin' you, Cyril."
"Let'm want," said the boy, hungry again to feel
the touch of those warm lips upon his own. "I'm
not workin' nights for no man, and if he ain't satisfied,
I guess I can quit any old time now. You say
the word when, Nettie. I'm ready for you, girl. And
Nettie--give us another kiss, will you?"
"Oh, Cyril, I got to get to the house. Mrs. Langdon's
gone to bed, and he'll be lookin' for something
to eat, and it's not her place to get his meals when
I'm here to do the work."
"You won't have to work for no one but me soon,
Nettie. I'll take care of you for the rest of your
days. Nettie, I never kissed a girl before. That is
true as God."
"Neither did I--never kissed a fellow."
"Kiss me again, then."
This time she remained in his arms for a moment
only as the clamorous voice of Bull Langdon was
heard close at hand, his words, causing Nettie to
tear herself away in fear.
"Where's that gell? Why ain't she on her job?"
Nettie clambered up the slope of the coulees and
went running across the grass to the house. As she
paused at the wide opened door, her basket still on her
arm, Bull Langdon, now in his seat, his legs stretched
out before him, turned around to stare at her, his
fierce, covetous glance, as always, holding her fascinated
and breathless with vague terror.
"Where've ye been at this early hour of the night?"
"I been picking berries," faltered Nettie, trying
vainly to steady her voice.
"Oh, you have, heh?"
Her cheeks were redder than any berries that ever
grew and her eyes shone star bright. Her white bosom
rose and fell with the thrill of her late adventure and
her sudden fear.
"Pickin' berries in the night, huh? You're smart,
ain't you?"
"Oh, yes, it was light as day you see and I don't
mind----"
"Let's see what you got."
He reached out seemingly for the basket, but his
hand closed over the handle upon hers. Gripping it
tightly with his other hand he lifted the cover and
peered into the empty basket.
"Let go my hand!" she cried in a stifled voice.
"You're hurtin' me!"
For answer he possessed himself of the other and
steadily drew her nearer and nearer to him. She
struggled and twisted in his grasp, suppressing her
desire to scream for fear that her mistress might hear.
But, in fact, it was the clip clop of Mrs. Langdon's
loose bedroom slippers on the stairs that brought her
release.
Mrs. Langdon, her hair in paper curlers and with
a gray flannellete kimono thrown over her night dress,
hurried down the stairs.
"Oh, Bill--" She was the only person who never
called him "Bull"--"is it you? Are you back? I'm
so sorry I didn't hear you get in or I'd a been down
at once. We'll have something ready for you in a
minute. Nettie, bring some of that fresh headcheese,
and cut it from the new bowl, mind you, and maybe
Mr. Langdon'd like something to drink too. You
made butter today, didn't you? Well, bring some fresh
buttermilk, or maybe you'd like something hot to
drink. Which'd you rather have, Bill?"
He never replied to her many light questions and
she seldom expected him to. She nodded and smiled
at Nettie and the girl hurried to the pantry. Mrs.
Langdon fluttered about her husband, helping him to
remove his heavy riding boots and coat, and putting
away his hat and gauntlets. He endured her ministrations,
but in spite of her chatter and numerous
questions he remained curiously silent. When Nettie
brought the tray with its fresh cut homemade headcheese
and thick layer cake and buttermilk he drew
up before it and ate in a sort of absorbed silence.
"Will you be wanting me any more tonight, Mrs.
Langdon?" asked Nettie.
"No, Nettie, thank you. Run along to bed. If Mr.
Langdon needs anything else I'll get it. Good-night,
dear."
Bull, having finished the last of the food before
him, reached for his boots and began again to pull
them on.
"Oh, Bill, you're not goin' out again, are you?"
exclaimed Mrs. Langdon with nervous anxiety.
He tightened his belt without speaking, his big
chest swelling under his moosehide shirt. Spurs rattling,
he tramped across the room and out into the
yard.
At the bunkhouse lights were out and all hands save
one abed. Cyril sat on the edge of his bunk, still
dressed, chin cupped in his hands, giving himself up
to his dreams.
The great bulk of the cattleman filled the doorway.
His forefinger up, he beckoned to Cyril. The young
man stood up and with a glance back at his sleeping
mates he joined his employer outside the bunkhouse.
Clenched hands on hips, a characteristic attitude,
the Bull scrutinized in the now steadily deepening dusk
of the night the young fellow sturdily and coolly facing
him, apparently unmoved and unafraid.
"Want chu to be ready first thing in the morning
to ride over to Barstairs. Want chu to git them bulls
in shape for the circuit. Goin' to exhibit in St. Louis,
Kansas City, Chicago, San Francisco and other cities
in the States. You do well by the bunch here and
there's a bonus on your pay and you go along with
the herd to the U. S."
Until this night the unexpected promotion would
have elated Cyril. Now, in spite of his astonishment,
he hesitated, and in his slow Scotch way turned the
matter over in his mind. After a moment he said:
"I don't know as I want the job, boss. Fact is,
I'm thinkin' of quittin'. Thinkin' of goin' on my own."
"On your own! You ain't got nothin' to go on
your own with."
"I got my homestead. House's built, land partly
fenced. I traded in my cattle for implements and I
got six head of horses left, and that's not too bad
as a starter."
"How far d'you think you can git on that much
unless you got a stake behind you?"
The young man weighed this question thoughtfully
and carefully. A bit sadly he replied:
"Not very far, but it'll do as a starter, and next
year----"
"Next year ain't here yet. Besides it depends on
what you're countin' on. You aimin' to get married?"
Somehow the question infuriated the Bull so that
he shot it at the boy, despite his effort at self-control
and his eyes blazed through the darkness. But Cyril
was too absorbed in his own dreams to note the Bull's
voice or manner. After a pause he answered slowly.
"Yes."
"You can't raise no family on what you got now,"
said the Bull hoarsely. "Things ain't the same as when
I started in. You better wait a year or two. Take
on this proposition I'm offerin' you and you'll be in
better shape to do the right thing by the gell you
marry then. There's a ten dollar a month raise for
you and a bonus of a hundred at the end of the
season."
A long pause, as this sunk into Cyril, and he slowly
weighed the matter in his mind. A few months more
or less would matter little to him and Nettie. The
money would mean a lot. There were certain articles
he had set his heart on buying for Nettie for the
house, household utensils, of which a country traveling
salesman, who had put up overnight at the Bar Q,
had shown him enticing samples. Soon his mind was
made up.
"Maybe you're right, boss. I'm on. Barstairs, eh?
I'll be on the job first thing in the morning."
But when he rode out in the quiet dawn, with no
one but Jake to bid him good-by, Cyril's heart was
heavy, and as he went by the ranch house his glance
sought Nettie's window, in the vain hope that she
might by some chance be up and in sight. He had
given Jake a message for her and felt sure that she
would understand. It was a common occurrence for
riders to be despatched on such trips as this, and Cyril
was of a race that always puts duty before pleasure.
Farsighted and canny, he was prepared to serve and
wait an extra year if need be for the girl he loved.
At the thought of that future, shared with Nettie,
his heart lifted. The grayness of the approaching
dawn grew slowly lighter and the miracle of the sunrise
broke over the sleeping land. Far and wide on all
sides stretched an incomparable sky, a shadowy, gilded
loveliness, as if a misty veil were slowly being unrolled
till there burst into full bloom the marvelous
sunglow of Alberta. Cyril's spirits rose with the sun
and as his horse loped along the trail to Barstairs he
lifted up his young voice and sang.