Lonesome Land (31 page)

“Never mind that—you’ve gone over it half a dozen times. You say it was today, at noon, or thereabouts. Man must have done it when he found out she’d turned the calf
loose—he wouldn’t unless he was pretty mad, and scared. He isn’t cold-blooded enough to wait till he’d barred out the brand, and then go home and choke his wife. He
didn’t know about the calf till today, that’s a cinch.” He studied the matter with an air of grave importance.

“Polycarp,” he said abruptly, “I’m going to need you. We’ve got to find that bunch of cattle—it ought to be easy enough, and haze ’em down into
Man’s field where his bunch of calves are—see? Any calf that’s been weaned in the last three weeks will be pretty likely to claim its mother; and if he’s got any calves
branded that claim cows with some other brand—well—” He threw out his hands in a comprehensive gesture. “That’s the quickest way I know to get him,” he said.
“I want a witness along, and some help. And you,” he eyed Polycarp keenly, “ain’t safe running around town loose. All your brains seem to leak out your mouth. So you come
along with me.”

“Well—anytime after to-morrer,” hedged Polycarp, offended by the implication that he talked too much. “I’ve got to drive the team home for Mis’ Fleetwood
to-morrer. I tol’ her I would—”

“Well, you won’t. You’re going to hit the trail with me just as soon as I can find a horse for you to ride. We’ll sleep at the Double Diamond, and start from there in the
morning. And if I catch you letting a word outa you about this deal, I’ll just about have to arrest you for—” He did not quite know what, but the very vagueness of the threat had
its effect upon Polycarp.

He went without further argument, though first he went to the Hawley Hotel—with Fred close beside him as a precaution against imprudent gossip—and left word in the office that he
would not be able to drive Mrs. Fleetwood home, the next morning, but would be back to take her out the day after that, if she did not mind staying in town. It was that message which Arline
deliberately held back from Val until morning.

“You better stay here,” she advised then. “Polycarp an’ Fred’s up to some devilment, that’s a cinch; but whatever it is, you’re better off right here
with me. S’posen you should drive out there and run into Man—what then?”

Val shivered. “I—that’s the only thing I can’t bear,” she admitted, as if the time for proud dignity and reserve had gone by. “If I could be sure I
wouldn’t need to meet him, I’d rather go alone; really and truly, I would. You know the horses are perfectly safe—I’ve driven them to town fifty times if I have once. I had
to, out there alone so much of the time. I’d rather not have Polycarp spying around. I’ve got to pack up—there are so many things of no value to—to
him,
things I
brought out here with me. And there are all my manuscripts; I can’t leave them lying around, even if they aren’t worth anything; especially since they aren’t worth
anything.” She pushed back her hair with a weary movement. “If I could only be sure—if I knew where
he
is,” she sighed.

“I’ll lend you my gun,” Arline offered in good faith. “If he comes around you and starts any funny business again, you can stand him off, even if you got some delicate
feelin’s about blowin’ his brains out.”

“Oh, I couldn’t. I’m deadly afraid of guns.” Val shuddered.

“Well, then you can’t go alone. I’d go with you, if you could git packed up so as to come back today. I guess Min could make out to git two meals alone.”

“Oh, no. Really and truly, Arline, I’d just as soon go alone. I would rather, dear.”

Arline was not accustomed to being called “dear.” She surrendered with some confusion and a blush.

“Well, you better wait,” she admonished temporizingly. “Something may turn up.”

Presently something did turn up. She rushed breathlessly into Val’s room and caught her by the arm.

“Now’s your chancet, Val,” she hissed in a loud whisper. “Man jest now rode into town; he’s over in Pop’s place—I seen him go in. He’s good for
the day, sure. I’ll have Hank hitch right up, an’ you can go down to the stable and start from there, so’st he won’t see you. An’ I’ll keep an eye out,
’n’ if he leaves town I won’t be fur behind, lemme tell you. He won’t, though; there ain’t one chancet in a hundred he’ll leave that saloon till he’s
full—an’ if he tries t’ go then, I’ll have somebody lock ’im up in the ice house till you git back. You want to hurry up that packin’, an’ git in here
quick’s you can.”

She went to the stable with Val, her apron thrown over her head for want of a hat. When Val was settling herself in the seat, Arline caught at the wheel.

“Say! How’n time you goin’ to git your trunks loaded into the wagon?” she cried. “You can’t do it alone.”

Val pursed her lips; she had not thought of that.

“But Polycarp will come, by the time I am ready,” she decided. “You couldn’t keep him away, Arline; he would be afraid he might miss something, because I suppose ours is
the only ranch in the country where the wheels aren’t turning smoothly. Polycarp and I can manage.”

Hank, grinning under his ragged, brown mustache, handed her the lines. “I’ve got my orders,” he told her briefly. “I’ll watch out the trail’s kept
clear.”

“Oh, thank you. I’ve so many good friends,” Val answered, giving him a smile to stir his sluggish blood. “Goodbye, Arline. Don’t worry about me, there’s a
dear. I shall not be back before tomorrow night, probably.”

Both Arline and Hank stood where they were and watched her out of sight before they turned back to the sordid tasks which made up their lives.

“She’ll make it—she’s the proper stuff,” Hank remarked, and lighted his pipe. Arline, for a wonder, sighed and said nothing.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

C
AUGHT
!

A
FTER TWO NIGHTS AND A DAY OF TORMENT UNBEARABLE
, K
ENT
bolted from his work, which would have taken him that day, as it had done
the day before, in a direction opposite to that which his mind and his heart followed, and without apology or explanation to his foreman rode straight to Cold Spring Coulee. He had no very definite
plan, except to see Val. He did not even know what he would say when he faced her.

Michael was steaming from nose to tail when he stopped at the yard gate, which shows how impatience had driven his master. Kent glanced quickly around the place as he walked up the narrow path
to the house. Nothing was changed in the slightest particular, as far as he could see, and he realized then that he had been uneasy as well as anxious. Both doors were closed, so that he was
obliged to knock before Val became visible. He had a fleeting impression of extreme caution in the way she opened the door and looked out, but he forgot it immediately in his joy at seeing her.

“Oh, it’s you. Come in, and—you won’t mind if I close the door? I’m afraid I’m the victim of nerves, today.”

“Why?” Kent was instantly solicitous. “Has anything happened since I was here?”

Val shook her head, smiling faintly. “Nothing that need to worry
you,
pal. I don’t want to talk about worries. I want to be cheered up; I haven’t laughed, Kent, for so
long I’m afraid my facial muscles are getting stiff. Say something funny, can’t you?”

Kent pushed his hat far back on his head and sat down upon a corner of the table. “Such is life in the far West—and the farther West you go, the livelier—” he began to
declaim dutifully.

“The livelier it gets. Yes, I’ve heard that a million times, I believe. I can’t laugh at that; I never did think it funny.” She sighed, and twitched her shoulders
impatiently because of it. “I see you brought back the glasses,” she remarked inanely. “You certainly weren’t in any great hurry, were you?”

“Oh, they had us riding over east of the home ranch, hazing in some outa the hills. I’m supposed to be over there right now—but I ain’t. I expect I’ll get the can,
all right—”

“If you’re going away, what do you care?” she taunted.

“H’m—sure, what do I care?” He eyed her from under his brows while he bent to light a match upon the sole of his boot. Val had long ago settled his compunctions about
smoking in her presence. “You seem to be all tore up, here,” he observed irrelevantly. “Cleaning house?”

“Yes—cleaning house.” Val smiled ambiguously.

“Hubby in town?”

“Yes—he went in yesterday, and hasn’t come back yet.”

Kent smoked for a moment meditatively. “I found that calf, all right,” he informed her at last. “It was too late to ride around this way and tell you that night. So you
needn’t worry any more about that.”

“I’m not worrying about that.” Val stooped and picked up a hairpin from the floor, and twirled it absently in her fingers. “I don’t think it matters, any more.
Yesterday afternoon Fred De Garmo and Polycarp Jenks came into the coulee with a bunch of cattle, and turned all the calves out of the river field with them; and, after a little, they drove the
whole lot of them away somewhere—over that way.” She waved a slim hand to the west. “They let out the calves in the corral, too. I saw them from the window, but I didn’t ask
them any questions. I really didn’t need to, did I?” She grazed him with a glance. “I thought perhaps you had failed to find that calf; I’m glad you did, though—so it
wasn’t that started them hunting around here—Polycarp and Fred, I mean.”

Kent looked at her queerly. Her voice was without any emotion whatever, as if the subject held no personal interest for her. He finished his cigarette and threw the stub out into the yard before
either of them spoke another word. He closed the door again, stood there for a minute making up his mind, and went slowly over to where she was sitting listlessly in a chair, her hands folded
loosely in her lap. He gripped with one hand the chairback and stared down at her high-piled, yellow hair.

“How long do you think I’m going to stand around and let you be dragged into trouble like this?” he began abruptly. “You know what I told you the other day—I could
say the same thing over again, and a lot more; and I’d mean more than I could find words for. Maybe you can stand this sort of thing—I can’t. I’m not going to try. If
you’re bound to stick to that—that gentleman, I’m going to get outa the country where I can’t see you killed by inches. Every time I come, you’re a little bit whiter,
and a little bigger-eyed—I can’t stand it, I tell you!

“You weren’t made for a hell like you’re living. You were meant to be happy—and I was meant to make you happy. Every morning when I open my eyes—do you know what I
think? I think it’s another day we oughta be happy in, you and me.” He took her suddenly by the shoulder and brought her up, facing him, where he could look into her eyes.

“We’ve only got just one life to live, Val!” he pleaded. “And we could be happy together—I’d stake my life on that. I can’t go on forever just being
friends, and eating my heart out for you, and seeing you abused—and what for? Just because a preacher mumbled some words over you two! Only for that, you wouldn’t stay with him
overnight, and you know it! Is
that
what ought to tie two human beings together—without love, or even friendship? You hate him; you can’t look me in the eyes and say you
don’t. And he’s tired of you. Some other woman would please him better. And I could make you happy!”

Val broke away from his grasp, and retreated until the table was between them. Her listlessness was a thing forgotten. She was panting with the quick beating of her heart.

“Kent—don’t, pal! You mustn’t say those things—it’s wicked.”

“It’s true,” he cried hotly. “Can you look at me and say it ain’t the truth?”

“You’ve spoiled our friendship, Kent!” she accused, while she evaded his question. “It meant so much to me—just your dear, good friendship.”

“My love could mean a whole lot more,” he declared sturdily.

“But you mustn’t say those things—you mustn’t feel that way, Kent!”

“Oh!” He laughed grimly. “Mustn’t I? How are you going to stop me?” He stared hard at her, his face growing slowly rigid. “There’s just one way to stop
me from saying such wicked things,” he told her. “You can tell me you don’t care anything about me, and never could, not even if that down-east conscience of yours didn’t
butt into the game. You can tell me that, and swear it’s the truth, and I’ll leave the country. I’ll go so far you’ll never see me again, so I’ll never bother you any
more. I can’t promise I’ll stop loving you—but for my own sake I’ll sure try hard enough.” He set his teeth hard together and stood quiet, watching her.