_ CHAPTER XXX. TWO ROSES
One morning, some three weeks after the invasion of Gophertown, Bud Light, Billy Dime, and Brand Williams appeared at the Moonstone Ranch office.
Quite casually they had dismounted, and jingling up had asked for Walter Stone. Upon his appearance the younger men applied individually for their old places. The room smelled of cigarette smoke and antiseptics. Quite as though nothing unusual had happened the rancher reinstated them.
"Have a good time, boys?" he asked.
"Yes, sir. Very good time. Better than we expected," replied Billy Dime. Bud Light nodded.
Stone looked hard at Billy Dime's bandaged arm. "Miguel and Parson Long have a good time also?"
"Stayed to help Overland Red work the claim. Overland Red got hurt a little, doin' somethin'. He's all right now."
"None of the Moonstone boys were injured?"
"Nope. Not a one of us," replied Dime blandly.
Walter Stone's eyes twinkled, but he did not smile. "We will call it a vacation this time, with pay. Tell Williams to step in here, please." And the rancher dismissed his embarrassed and happy punchers with a gesture.
The interview with Williams was not so brief. "The boys came out of it all right?" asked Stone, shaking hands with his old foreman.
"Yes, sir."
"How did you manage that?"
"Didn't. They did."
"Any one--er--of the other side have an accident?"
"Saunders--and six gents got hurt pretty bad."
"Whew! Our boys were lucky."
"It was nothin' but luck that they ain't all back there now--on the sand. You see, the Gophertown outfit are all what you'd call good with a gun, but it was kind of a surprise, the spreadin' of the thing from Red's little private deal to a six-hand game. We sure was lucky."
"And Collie?"
Williams shook his head. "I don't know. We thought he had crossed over. Seems he took a new holt. The doc and Winthrop brung him to Los in the automobile. He's at the hospital. But they say he don't pick up any since he come there."
"All right, Brand. I think that is all."
"How about my name goin' back on the books?" asked Williams.
"It hasn't been off the books. You know, Louise attends to the time-sheet."
Williams nodded. "I expect Miguel and Parson Long will be sniffin' around lookin' for a job before long. They agreed to stay with Red till he got on his feet again. But they told him they would go just as soon as he was all right, for you couldn't run your ranch without 'em."
Walter Stone smiled broadly. "You're foreman, Brand."
"They was fightin' just as much for the name of the old Moonstone as for Collie, or for fun," said Williams.
"I know it. But I don't believe in such methods. That sort of thing is about done with," said Stone.
"I was readin' about the old days in the Panamint, not long ago," said Williams, gazing at a corner of the office. "I--they was a list of names of the ranchers that cleaned up the rustlers over there, back in '86. It was interestin'--some of them names."
Walter Stone coughed and turned in his chair. He gazed out of the window. Finally he faced Williams again. "We had to do it," he said, smiling.
Williams nodded. They understood each other.
* * * * *
The Marshalls, delighted with Los Angeles, had taken apartments in the city. Dr. Marshall, at the urgent request of Walter Stone, had called at the hospital to see Collie. The wound had healed slowly. Collie gained no strength. He seemed indifferent as to whether he recovered or not. Dr. Marshall, consulting with the surgeon, agreed that the young man's recovery was still doubtful. His vitality was extremely low. His usual optimism had stagnated.
Later, when Walter Stone, Mrs. Stone, and Louise visited the hospital, Collie had smiled wanly and said but little, thanking them for their visit with a word.
Louise returned home, heartsick and haunted by Collie's eyes that had seemed so listless, so indifferent, so weary. She had hoped to cheer him. His indifference affected her more than his actual physical condition, which seemed to be the cause of it. Louise recognized in herself a species of selfishness in feeling as she did. Like most folk of superabundant health she was unable to realize the possibilities of sickness. She longed for his companionship. She had not dared to ask herself whether or not she loved him. She was glad that he should love her--and yet she was not altogether happy. She had sent him her token, the little gray riding-gauntlet. He had in no way acknowledged it.
The sentiment incident to Collie's almost fatal misfortune did not blind her in the least. She told herself frankly that she missed him. At the ranch he had been with her much. From her he had gleaned of books and people. The actual advantage to him was not in the quantity of knowledge he had gained, but in the quality and direction suggested by her attitude toward all things. The advantage to her in his companionship had been the joy of giving, of shaping his thought, of seeing him slowly and unconsciously differentiate himself--stand apart from his fellows as something she had helped to create. This much of him she possessed through conscious effort.
Then to have seen him in the hospital, helpless, seemingly beyond any noticeable influence of her presence, stirred in her a kind of maternal jealousy. Straightway she visited Anne Marshall, who kissed her, held her at arms' length, saw the soft rose glow in her face, and spoke to the point, albeit in parables. Dr. Marshall had been very poor--a doctor in the slums--just before
they were married. People had
said things and had
looked things, which was even worse. They subtly intimated that the doctor was marrying her for her money. She was the happiest woman in the world. She thought Collie was the manliest and most striking figure she had ever seen.
To all of which Louise listened quietly, blushing a little. "And he is wealthy," concluded Anne. "For so young a man, he is wealthy. The Rose Girl Mining Company, Incorporated, my dear, pays well. Collie is one of the three largest stockholders. You see, Billy and Overland Red have decided to turn the claim into a corporation."
"Don't you contradict your--your theory a little, Anne?" asked Louise.
"No, indeed! It doesn't matter in the least who has the money, so long as the man is the right one."
And Louise was silent, and a bit happier.
The little parcel that came to the hospital, directed to Collie, was from Overland. It was accompanied by a vividly worded note and a small, stained, and wrinkled glove, at once familiar.
Overland's note explained the delay in forwarding the glove. "It's some mussed up," he wrote, "because I had it in my shirt when I was hit. I was some mussed up likewise, or I would not 'a' forgot it so long. The little Rose Girl sent it to you by Brand when she thinks you was going to cross over on the last sunset limited. And I am feeling Fine, thanks. Do not rite to me if it gives you cramps.--Youres verry fathefuly, Jack."
Collie turned the gauntlet over in his trembling fingers. His eyes glowed. He called the nurse, telling her he was hungry.
Anne Marshall's visits were always refreshing. Well-gowned, cool, fragrant, she came, next afternoon, to Collie's bedside.
"You
must get well," she said, smiling. "The doctor will be terribly disappointed if you don't. Isn't that coldly encouraging? What a thing to say!"
"I don't want to disappoint anybody," said Collie.
"Well, you will if you don't get better right away, sir! I wish I could do something to help. I can only sympathize and encourage the doctor."
"I know he's doing a whole lot for me. I think mebby you could help--a little--if you wanted to."
"Gracious! As though I didn't! Why didn't you tell me sooner?"
"It only came yesterday," said Collie, tremulously drawing the gauntlet from beneath his pillow.
Anne Marshall gazed at the soiled and wrinkled glove with unenlightened eyes. Then her quick smile flashed. "Oh! Now I know! So that is the talisman? Came yesterday? No wonder you seem brighter."
Collie's answering smile was irresistible. "It isn't just the glove--but would you--I mean, if you was like me--without being educated or anything--" He hesitated, breathing deeply.
But Anne Marshall understood him instantly, and answered his shyly questioning eyes.
"Indeed, I should. If I had half your chance, I shouldn't waste a minute in claiming the mate to that glove. One glove is of absolutely no use, you know."
"This one was--pretty much," sighed Collie. "I was feeling like letting go inside and not trying to--to stay any longer, just before it came."
"S-s-s-h! Don't even think of that. Some one called on me a few days ago. You are a very fortunate young man."
Anne Marshall's ambiguity was not altogether displeasing to Collie, in that it was not altogether unintelligible.
* * * * *
William Stanley Winthrop, sojourning briefly but fashionably in Los Angeles, appeared at the hospital in immaculate outing flannels. It was several weeks after his sister's last visit there. Winthrop took the convalescent Collie to the Moonstone Rancho in his car.
Bud Light and Billy Dime accidentally met the car in the valley and accompanied it vigorously through Moonstone Canon.
Aunt Eleanor and Walter Stone were at the gate. Collie was helped to the house and immediately taken to the guest-room. He was much fatigued with the journey. The question in his eyes was answered by Aunt Eleanor. "Louise rode over to the north range to-day. She should be back now."
Winthrop scarce needed an introduction. He was Anne Marshall's brother. That was sufficient for the host and hostess. He was made welcome--as he was wherever he went. He had heard a great deal, from his sister, of the Stones, and their beautiful niece, Louise Lacharme. He was enthusiastic about the Moonstone Canon. He grew even more enthusiastic after meeting Louise.
She came riding her black pony Boyar down the afternoon hillside--a picture that he never forgot. Her gray sombrero hung on the saddle-horn. Her gloves were tucked in her belt. She had loosened the neck of her blouse and rolled back her sleeves, at the spring above, to bathe her face and arms in the chill overflow. Her hair shone with a soft golden radiance that was ethereal in the flicker of afternoon sunlight through the live-oaks. From her golden head to the tip of her small riding-boot she was a harmony of vigor and grace, of exquisite coloring and infinite charm.
Her naturalness of manner, her direct simplicity, was almost, if not quite, her greatest attraction, and a quality which Winthrop fully appreciated.
"I have been quite curious about you, Mr. Winthrop," she said. "You are quite like Anne. I adore Anne. Shall we turn Boyar into the corral?"
If William Stanley Winthrop had had any idea of making an impression, he forgot it. The impression Louise was unconsciously making straightway absorbed his attention.
"Yes, indeed! Turn him into the corral--turn him into
anything, Miss Lacharme. You have the magic. Make another admirer of him."
"Thank you, Mr. Winthrop. But Boyar could hardly be improved."
"You trained him, didn't you?" queried Winthrop.
Louise laughed. "Yes. But he was well-bred to begin with."
Winthrop ejaculated a mental "Ouch!" Simplicity did not necessarily mean stupidity.
"Do you enjoy mining--the real work--out there in the desert, Mr. Winthrop?"
"I could enjoy anything in company with Overland."
"Of course. Do you think people who have lots of money are apt to be cynical?" she asked.
"Not more so than people without money. But what splendid animals!" he exclaimed as they approached the corral.
"Uncle Walter and I are very fond of them," she said, turning Boyar into the inclosure.
"Do you know, Miss Lacharme, I like horses and dogs and cats, and I just revel in burros. But animals don't seem to like me. They're rather indifferent to me. I wonder if it is a matter of health, or magnetism, or something of that sort?"
"Oh, no! But it is difficult to explain. Even if you are very fond of animals it doesn't follow that they will like you. That seems rather cold, doesn't it? It's almost unfair."
"Yes, if one considers it seriously."
"Don't you?"
Winthrop gazed at her for a second before replying. "I see I must tell you the truth," he said lightly. "You compel it. It
does hurt me to have anything or any one that I care for indifferent to me. Perhaps it's because I realize that I am giving affection and selfishly want 'value returned,' so to speak. Pardon me for becoming serious."
"Surely! But I thank you, too. See Boyar roll! He's happy. No, he doesn't roll because his back itches. You see, he's sweaty where the saddle covered him. Before he rolled, you noticed that he deliberately found a dusty spot. The dust dries the sweat and he doesn't take cold. That's the real explanation."
"I knew it couldn't be through happiness at leaving you," said Winthrop.
"If you are determined to keep it up," said Louise mischievously, "all right. But be careful, sir! I enjoy it. It's been dull--dreadfully dull since Anne and the doctor left. May I have your knife?"
A belated crimson Colombe rose nodded beneath the guest-room window. Louise cut the stem and pinned the flower in the lapel of Winthrop's white flannel coat. He gazed at her intent on her task.
"There!" she said, with a light touch of her supple fingers. "That will do." And slowly her gray eyes lifted to his.
The color flooded to his face. His eyes became momentarily brilliant. He drew a deep breath. "You told me to be careful. I shall be," he said, bowing slightly. "Please say something. Your silent attack was a little too--too successful."
"Truce?" she queried, laughing.
"Never!" replied Winthrop. "Even as our rather mutual and distinctly illustrious friend Overland says, 'Not till me wires are all down and me lights are out.'"
Collie, standing at the open French window just above them, drew back. Quite naturally, being a young man in love, he misinterpreted all that he had seen and heard. Louise had been away the day he was expected to return to the ranch. She had come back. She was seemingly satisfied with Winthrop's society. She was even more than satisfied; she was flirting with him. An unreasonable, bucolic jealousy, partly due to his condition, overcame Collie's usual serenity. His invalidism magnified the whole affair to absurd proportions.
Perhaps it was the intensity of his gaze that caused Louise to glance up. His expression startled her. His eyes were burning. His face was unnaturally white. He met her glance, but gave no sign of recognition--a rudeness that he regretted even while he manifested it.
Louise turned away proudly, calling Winthrop's attention to a huge garden-seat beneath the live-oaks. "We have dinner out there quite often," she said, her eyes glowing. "Would you care to rest a while after your ride?"
"'A jug of wine--a loaf of bread--'" he quoted.
"But it isn't a wilderness. And dinner won't be ready for an hour yet. Don't you think a wilderness would have been utterly stupid with his 'thou' beside him singing everlastingly? Now please don't say, 'It would depend on the
thou.'"
"Do you sing, Miss Lacharme?"
"A little."
"Please, then,--a little. Then I'll answer your question."
"I had rather not, just now."
"My answer would be the same in either case. This is living, after the desert and its loneliness. I discovered one thing out there, however,--myself. It was a surprise. My 'way-back ancestors must have been pirates."
"Mine--grew roses--in southern France."
"I am glad they eventually came to America," he said.
"Are you so fond of candy, Mr. Winthrop?"
"No."
"Neither am I."
"I'm glad they came, just the same. I simply can't help it."
"Overland--Mr. Summers--doesn't take life very seriously, does he?" asked Louise.
"Not as seriously as life has taken him, at odd times."
"You brought Collie in your car, didn't you?"
"Yes."
"He's much better?"
"Yes. But he's pretty shaky yet. He's a little queer, in fact. As we came up the canon he asked me to stop the car by the cliff, near this end,--that place where the sunlight comes through a kind of notch in the west. I thought he was tired of the motion of the car, so we stopped and he lay back looking at the cliff. Pretty soon the sun shot a long ray past us and it fairly splattered gold on the canon wall. Then the shaft of sunlight went out. 'It will shine again,' he said, as if I didn't know that. Collie's a pretty sick man."
Later Winthrop and Louise joined the others at the veranda. Louise excused herself. She searched a long time before she found another rose. This time it was a Colombe bud, full, red, and beautiful. She stepped to Collie's window. "Boy!" she called softly.
White and trembling, he stood in the long window looking down at her. "I'm glad you are home again," she said.
He nodded, and glanced away.
"Boy!" she called again. "Catch." And she tossed the rose. He caught it and pressed it to his lips. _