"No."
"I was afeared you"d change your mind about marryin" Jack."
"When I promised I meant it. I didn"t make it on conditions."
"But, la.s.s, promises can be broke," he said, with the sonorous roll in his voice.
"I never yet broke one of mine."
"Wal, I hev. Not often, mebbe, but I hev.... An", la.s.s, it"s reasonable.
Thar"s times when a man jest can"t live up to what he swore by. An" fer a girl--why, I can see how easy she"d change an" grow overnight. It"s only fair fer me to say that no matter what you think you owe me you couldn"t be blamed now fer dislikin" Jack."
"Dad, if by marrying Jack I can help him to be a better son to you, and more of a man, I"ll be glad," she replied.
"La.s.s, I"m beginnin" to see how big an" fine you are," replied Belllounds, with strong feeling. "An" it"s worryin" me.... My neighbors hev always accused me of seein" only my son. Only Buster Jack! I was blind an" deaf as to him!... Wal, I"m not so d.a.m.n blind as I used to be.
The scales are droppin" off my ole eyes.... But I"ve got one hope left as far as Jack"s concerned. Thet"s marryin" him to you. An" I"m stickin" to it."
"So will I stick to it, dad," she replied. "I"ll go through with October first!"
Columbine broke off, vouchsafing no more, and soon left the breakfast-table, to take up the work she had laid out to do. And she accomplished it, though many times her hands dropped idle and her eyes peered out of her window at the drab slides of the old mountain.
Later, when she went out to ride, she saw the cowboy Lem working in the blacksmith shop.
"Wal, Miss Collie, air you-all still hangin" round this hyar ranch?" he asked, with welcoming smile.
"Lem, I"m almost ashamed now to face my good friends, I"ve neglected them so long," she replied.
"Aw, now, what"re friends fer but to go to?... You"re lookin" pale, I reckon. More like thet thar flower I see so much on the hills."
"Lem, I want to ride p.r.o.nto. Do you think he"s all right, now?"
"I reckon some movin" round will do p.r.o.nto good. He"s eatin" his haid off."
The cowboy went with her to the pasture gate and whistled p.r.o.nto up. The mustang came trotting, evidently none the worse for his injuries, and eager to resume the old climbs with his mistress. Lem saddled him, paying particular attention to the cinch.
"Reckon we"d better not cinch him tight," said Lem. "You jest be careful an" remember your saddle"s loose."
"All right, Lem," replied Columbine, as she mounted. "Where are the boys this morning?"
"Blud an" Jim air repairin" fence up the crick."
"And where"s Ben?"
"Ben? Oh, you mean Wade. Wal, I "ain"t seen him since yestidday. He was skinnin" a lion then, over hyar on the ridge. Thet was in the mawnin". I reckon he"s around, fer I seen some of the hounds."
"Then, Lem--you haven"t heard about the fight yesterday between Jack and Wilson Moore?"
Lem straightened up quickly. "Nope, I "ain"t heerd a word."
"Well, they fought, all right," said Columbine, hurriedly. "I saw it. I was the only one there. Wilson was badly used up before dad and Ben got there. Ben drove off with him."
"But, Miss Collie, how"d it come off? I seen Wils the other day. Was up to his homestead. An" the boy jest manages to rustle round on a crutch.
He couldn"t fight."
"That was just it. Jack saw his opportunity, and he forced Wilson to fight--accused him of stealing. Wils tried to avoid trouble. Then Jack jumped him. Wilson fought and held his own until Jack began to kick his injured foot. Then Wilson fainted and--and Jack beat him."
Lem dropped his head, evidently to hide his expression. "Wal, dog-gone me!" he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed. "Thet"s too bad."
Columbine left the cowboy and rode up the lane toward Wade"s cabin. She did not a.n.a.lyze her deliberate desire to tell the truth about that fight, but she would have liked to proclaim it to the whole range and to the world. Once clear of the house she felt free, unburdened, and to talk seemed to relieve some congestion of her thoughts.
The hounds heralded Columbine"s approach with a deep and booming chorus.
Sampson and Jim lay upon the porch, unleashed. The other hounds were chained separately in the aspen grove a few rods distant. Sampson thumped the boards with his big tail, but he did not get up, which laziness attested to the fact that there had been a lion chase the day before and he was weary and stiff. If Wade had been at home he would have come out to see what had occasioned the clamor. As Columbine rode by she saw another fresh lion-pelt pegged upon the wall of the cabin.
She followed the brook. It had cleared since the rains and was shining and sparkling in the rough, swift places, and limpid and green in the eddies. She pa.s.sed the dam made by the solitary beaver that inhabited the valley. Freshly cut willows showed how the beaver was preparing for the long winter ahead. Columbine remembered then how greatly pleased Wade had been to learn about this old beaver; and more than once Wade had talked about trapping some younger beavers and bringing them there to make company for the old fellow.
The trail led across the brook at a wide, shallow place, where the splashing made by p.r.o.nto sent the trout scurrying for deeper water.
Columbine kept to that trail, knowing that it led up into Sage Valley, where Wilson Moore had taken up the homestead property. Fresh horse tracks told her that Wade had ridden along there some time earlier.
p.r.o.nto shied at the whirring of sage-hens. Presently Columbine ascertained they were flushed by the hound Kane, that had broken loose and followed her. He had done so before, and the fact had not displeased her.
"Kane! Kane! come here!" she called. He came readily, but halted a rod or so away, and made an attempt at wagging his tail, a function evidently somewhat difficult for him. When she resumed trotting he followed her.
Old White Slides had lost all but the drabs and dull yellows and greens, and of course those pale, light slopes that had given the mountain its name. Sage Valley was only one of the valleys at its base. It opened out half a mile wide, dominated by the looming peak, and bordered on the far side by an aspen-thicketed slope. The brook babbled along under the edge of this thicket. Cattle and horses grazed here and there on the rich, gra.s.sy levels, Columbine was surprised to see so many cattle and wondered to whom they belonged. All of Belllounds"s stock had been driven lower down for the winter. There among the several horses that whistled at her approach she espied the white mustang Belllounds had given to Moore. It thrilled her to see him. And next, she suffered a pang to think that perhaps his owner might never ride him again. But Columbine held her emotions in abeyance.
The cabin stood high upon a level terrace, with cl.u.s.ters of aspens behind it, and was sheltered from winter blasts by a gray cliff, picturesque and crumbling, with its face overgrown by creeping vines and colorful shrubs, Wilson Moore could not have chosen a more secluded and beautiful valley for his homesteading adventure. The little gray cabin, with smoke curling from the stone chimney, had lost its look of dilapidation and disuse, yet there was nothing new that Columbine could see. The last quarter of the ascent of the slope, and the few rods across the level terrace, seemed extraordinarily long to Columbine. As she dismounted and tied p.r.o.nto her heart was beating and her breath was coming fast.
The door of the cabin was open. Kane trotted past the hesitating Columbine and went in.
"You son-of-a-hound-dog!" came to Columbine"s listening ears in Wade"s well-known voice. "I"ll have to beat you--sure as you"re born."
"I heard a horse," came in a lower voice, that was Wilson"s.
"Darn me if I"m not gettin" deafer every day," was the reply.
Then Wade appeared in the doorway.
"It"s n.o.body but Miss Collie," he announced, as he made way for her to enter.
"Good morning!" said Columbine, in a voice that had more than cheerfulness in it.
"_Collie!_... Did you come to see me?"
She heard this incredulous query just an instant before she saw Wilson at the far end of the room, lying under the light of a window. The inside of the cabin seemed vague and unfamiliar.
"I surely did," she replied, advancing. "How are you?"
"Oh, I"m all right. Tickled to death, right now. Only, I hate to have you see this battered mug of mine."
"You needn"t--care," said Columbine, unsteadily. And indeed, in that first glance she did not see him clearly. A mist blurred her sight and there was a lump in her throat. Then, to recover herself, she looked around the cabin.