"You? Shucks!" Hugely contemptuous.
"Oh, but I am," she insisted, raising her eyes and tilting sidewise her charming head. "I"m not married."
"Thank--" he began, impulsively, but choked on the second word and gulped hard. "I mean," he resumed, hastily, "I don"t understand why I never saw you before. I was here once, but you weren"t around."
"When were you here?... Why, that was two years ago. I was only a kid then--all legs like a calf. No wonder you didn"t notice me."
She laughed at him frankly, with a bewildering flash of white teeth.
"I sh.o.r.e must "a" been blind," he said, truthfully. "They ain"t any two ways about _that_."
Under his admiring gaze a slow blush overspread her smooth cheeks. She laughed again--uncertainly, and burst into swift speech. "My manners!
What have I been thinking of? Mr. Dawson, please sit down, do. I know you must be tired after your long ride. Take that chair under the mirror. It"s the strongest. You can tip it back against the wall if you like. I"ll get you a cup of coffee. I know you"re thirsty. I"m sorry Mother and Father aren"t home, but Mother drove over to the Bar S on business and I don"t know where Father went!"
"I ain"t fit to stay," hesitated Racey, rasping the back of his hand across his stubbly chin.
"Nonsense. You sit right down while I grind the coffee. I"ll have you a potful in no time. I make pretty good coffee if I do say it myself."
"I"ll bet you do."
"But my sister Jane makes better. You"ll get some of hers at dinner."
"Dinner?" He stared blankly.
"Of course, dinner. When Mother and Father are away I always go down there for my meals. It"s only a quarter-mile down stream. Shorter if you climb that ridge. But it"s so stony I generally go along the creek bank where I can gallop.... What? Why, of course you"re going with me. Jane would never forgive me if I didn"t bring you. And what would Chuck say if you came this far and then didn"t go on down to his house? Don"t you suppose he enjoys seeing his old friends? It was only last week I heard him wonder to Father if you were ever coming back to this country. How did you like it up at the Bend?"
"Right fine," he told her, settling himself comfortably in the chair she had indicated. "But a feller gets tired of one place after a while. I thought maybe I"d come back to the Lazy River and get a job ridin" the range again."
"Aren"t there any ranches round the Bend?" she asked, poking up the fire and setting on the coffee-pot.
"Plenty, but I--I like the Lazy River country," he told her. "Fort Creek country for yores truly, now and hereafter."
In this fashion did the proposed journey to Arizona go glimmering. His eye lingered on the banjo where it lay on the table.
"Can you play it?" she asked, her eye following his.
"Some," said he. "Want to hear a camp-meeting song?"
She nodded. He rose and picked up the banjo. He placed a foot on the chair seat, slid the banjo to rest on his thigh, swept the strings, and broke into "Inchin" Along". Which ditty made her laugh. For it is a funny song, and he sang it well.
"That was fine," she told him when he had sung it through. "Your voice sounds a lot like that of a man I heard singing in Farewell yesterday.
He was in the Happy Heart when I was going by, and he sang _Jog on, jog on the footpath way_. If it hadn"t been a saloon I"d have gone in.
I just _love_ the old songs."
"You do?" said he, delightedly, with shining eyes. "Well, Miss Dale, that feller in the saloon was me, and old songs is where I live. I cut my teeth on "The Barley Mow" and grew up with "Barbara Allen". My mother she used to sing "em all. She was a great hand to sing and she taught me. Know "The Keel Row?""
She didn"t, so he sang it for her. And others he sang, too--"The Merry Cuckoo" and "The Bailiff"s Daughter". The last she liked so well that he sang it three times over, and they quite forgot the coffee.
Racey Dawson was starting the second verse of "Sourwood Mountain" when someone without coughed apologetically. Racey stopped singing and looked toward the doorway. Standing in the sunken half-round log that served as a doorstep was the stranger he had seen with Lanpher.
There was more than a hint of amus.e.m.e.nt in the black eyes with which the stranger was regarding Racey. The latter felt that the stranger was enjoying a hearty internal laugh at his expense. As probably he was. Racey looked at him from beneath level brows. The lid of the stranger"s right eye dropped ever so little. It was the merest of winks. Yet it was unmistakable. It recalled their morning"s meeting.
More, it was the tolerant wink of a superior to an inferior. A wink that merited a kick? Quite so.
The keen black eyes veered from Racey to the girl. The man removed his hat and bowed with, it must be said, not a little grace. Miss Dale nodded coldly. The stranger smiled. It was marvellous how the magic of that smile augmented the attractive good looks of the stranger"s full face. It was equally singular how that self-same smile rendered more hawk-like than ever the hard and Roman profile of the fellow. It was precisely as though he were two different men at one and the same time.
"Does Mr. Dale live here?" inquired the stranger.
"He does." A breath from the Boreal Pole was in the two words uttered by Miss Dale.
The stranger"s smile widened. The keen black eyes began to twinkle. He made as if to enter, but went no farther than the placing of one foot on the doorsill.
"Is he home?"
"He isn"t." Clear and colder.
"I"m sh.o.r.e sorry," grieved the stranger, the smile waning a trifle. "I wanted to see him."
"I supposed as much," sniffed Miss Dale, uncordially.
"Yes, Miss," said the stranger, undisturbed. "When will he be back, if I might ask?"
"To-night--to-morrow. I"m not sure."
"So I see," nodded the stranger. "Would it be worth while my waitin"?"
"That depends on what you call worth while."
"You"re right. It does. Standards ain"t always alike, are they."
He laughed silently, and pulled on his hat. "And it"s a good thing standards ain"t all alike," he resumed, chattily. "Wouldn"t it be a funny old world if they were?"
The smile of him recognized Racey briefly, but it rested upon and caressed the girl. She shook her shoulders as if she were ridding herself of the touch of hands.
The stranger continued to smile--and to look as if he expected a reply. But he did not get it. Miss Dale stared calmly at him, through him.
Slowly the stranger slid his foot from the doorsill to the doorstep; slowly, very slowly, his keenly twinkling black gaze travelled over the girl from her face to her feet and up again to finally fasten upon and hold as with a tangible grip her angry blue eyes.
"I"m sorry yore pa ain"t here," he resumed in a drawl. "I had some business. It can wait. I"ll be back. So long."
The stranger turned and left them.
From the kitchen window they watched him mount his horse and ford the creek and ride away westward.
"I don"t like that man," declared Miss Dale, and caught her lower lip between her white teeth. "I wonder what he wanted?"
"You"ll find out when he comes back." Dryly.
"I hope he never comes back. I never want to see him again. Do you know him?"