"Why, d.a.m.n it, man, I"m in love with a girl and I want to marry her if I can get rid of this other darned, mysterious, Tom-fool of a woman," Ford gritted at last, in sheer desperation. "Or if it"s just a josh, by this and by that I mean to find it out."
Rock sobered then. "It ain"t any josh," he said, with convincing earnestness. "You got married, all right enough. And if it"s as you say, Ford, I sure am sorry for it. I don"t know the girl"s name. I"d know her quick enough if I should see her, but I can"t tell you who she was."
Ford swore, of course. And Rock listened sympathetically until he was done.
"That"s the stuff; get it out of your system, Ford, and then you"ll feel better. Then we can put our heads together and see if there isn"t some way to beat this combination."
"Could you spot the preacher, do you reckon?" asked Ford more calmly.
"I could--if he didn"t see us coming," Rock admitted guardedly. "Name of Sanderson, I believe. I"ve seen him around Garbin. He could tell--he must have some record of it; but would he?"
"Don"t you know, even, why she came and glommed onto me like that?"
Ford"s face was as anxious as his tone.
"Only what you told me, confidentially, in a corner afterwards," said Rock regretfully. "Maybe you told it straight, and maybe you didn"t; there"s no banking on a man"s imagination when he"s soused. But the way you told it to me was this:
"You said the girl told you that she was working for some queer old party--an old lady with lots of dough; and she made her will and give her money all to some inst.i.tution--hospital or some darned thing, I forget just what, or else you didn"t say. Only, if this girl would marry her son within a certain time, he could have the wad. Seems the son was something of a high-roller, and the old lady knew he"d blow it in, if it was turned over to him without any ballast, like; and the girl was supposed to be the ballast, to hold him steady. So the old lady, or else it was the girl, writes to this fellow, and he agrees to hook up with the lady and take the money and behave himself. Near as I could make it out, the time was just about up before the girl took matters into her own hand, and come out on a hunt for this Frank Cameron. How she happened to sink her rope on you instead, and take her turns before she found out her mistake, you"ll have to ask her--if you ever see her again.
"But this much you told me--and I think you got it straight. The girl was willing to marry you--or Frank Cameron--so he could get what belonged to him. She wasn"t going to do any more, though, and you told me"--Rock"s manner became very impressive here--"that you promised her, as a man and a gentleman, that you wouldn"t ever bother her, and that she was to travel her own trail, and she didn"t want the money. She just wanted to dodge that fool will, seems like. Strikes me I"d a let the fellow go plumb to Guinea, if I was in her place, but women get queer notions of duty, and the like of that, sometimes. Looks to me like a fool thing for a woman to do, anyway."
Though they talked a good while about it, that was all the real information which Ford could gain. He would have to find the minister and persuade him to show the record of the marriage, and after that he would have to find the girl.
Before they reached that definite conclusion, the storm which had been brewing for several days swooped down upon them, and drove Ford to the alternative of riding in the teeth of it to town, which was not only unpleasant but dangerous, if it grew any worse, or retracing his steps to the Double Cross and waiting there until it was over. So that is what he did, with Rock to bear him willing company.
They met d.i.c.k and Curly on the way, and though Ford stopped them and suggested that they turn back also, neither would do so. Curly intimated plainly that the joys of town were calling to him from afar, and that facing a storm was merely calculated to make his destination more alluring by contrast. "Turn back with two months" wages burning up my inside pocket? Oh, no!" he laughed, and rode on. d.i.c.k did not say why, but he rode on also. Ford turned in the saddle and looked after them, as they disappeared in a swirl of fine snow.
"That"s what I ought to do," he said, "but I"m not going to do it, all the same."
"Which only goes to prove," bantered Rock, "that the Double Cross pulls harder than all the preacher could tell you. I wonder if there isn"t a girl at the Double Cross, now!"
"There is," Ford confessed, with a grin of embarra.s.sment. "And you shut up."
"I just had a hunch there was," Rock permitted himself to say meekly, before he dropped the subject.
It was ten minutes before Ford spoke again.
"I"ll take you up to the house and introduce you to her, Rock, if you"ll behave yourself," he offered then, with a shyness in his manner that nearly set Rock off in one of his convulsions of mirth. "But the missus isn"t wise--so watch out. And if you don"t behave yourself," he added darkly, "I"ll knock your block off."
"Sure. But my block is going to remain right where it"s at," Rock a.s.sured him, which was a tacit promise of as perfect behavior as he could attain.
They looked like snow men when they unsaddled, with the powdery snow beaten into the very fabric of their clothing, and Ford suggested that they go first to the bunk-house to thaw out. "I"d sure hate to pack all this snow into Mrs. Kate"s parlor," he added whimsically. "She"s the kind of housekeeper that grabs the broom the minute you"re gone, to sweep your tracks off the carpet. Awful nice little woman, but--"
"But not The One," chuckled Rock, treading close upon Ford"s heels.
"And I"ll bet fifteen cents," he offered rashly, looking up, "that the person hitting the high places for the bunk-house is The One."
"How do you know?" Ford demanded, while his eyes gladdened at sight of Josephine, with a Navajo blanket flung over her head, running down the path through the blizzard to the bunk-house kitchen.
""Cause she shied when she saw you coming. Came pretty near breaking back on you, too," Rock explained shrewdly.
They reached the kitchen together, and Ford threw open the door, and held it for her to pa.s.s.
"I came after some of Mose"s mince-meat," she explained hastily. "It"s a terrible storm, isn"t it? I"m glad it didn"t strike yesterday. I thought you were going to be gone for several days."
Ford, with embarra.s.sed haste to match her own, presented Rock in the same breath with wishing that Rock was elsewhere; for Mose was not in the kitchen, and he had not had more than a few words with her for twenty-four hours. He was perilously close to forgetting his legal halter when he looked at her.
She was, he thought, about as sweet a picture of a woman as a man need ever look upon, as she stood there with the red Navajo blanket falling back from her dark hair, and with her wide, honest eyes fixed upon Rock.
She was blushing, as if she, too, wished Rock elsewhere. She turned impulsively, set down the basin she had been holding in her arm, and pulled the blanket up so that it framed her face bewitchingly.
"Mose can bring up the mince-meat when he comes--since he isn"t here,"
she said hurriedly. "We weren"t looking for you back, but dinner will be ready in half an hour or so, I think." She pulled open the door and went out into the storm.
Rock stared at the door, still quivering with the slam she had given it.
Then he looked at Ford, and afterward sat down weakly upon a stool, and began dazedly pulling the icicles from his mustache.
"Well--I"ll--be--cremated!" he said in a whisper.
"And what"s eating you, Rock?" Ford quizzed gayly. He had seen something in the eyes of Josephine, when he met her, that had set his blood jumping again. "Did Miss Melby--"
"Miss Melby my granny!" grunted Rock, in deep disgust. "That there is your wife!"
Ford backed up against the wall and stared at him blankly. Afterward he took a deep breath and went out as though the place was on fire.
CHAPTER XVII
What Ford Found at the Top
Ford Campbell was essentially a man of action; he did not waste ten seconds in trying to deduce the whys and hows of the amazing fact; he would have a whole lifetime in which to study them. He started for the house, and the tracks he made in the loose, shifting snow were considerably more than a yard apart. He even forgot to stamp off the clinging snow and scour his boot-soles upon the porch rug, and when he went striding in, he pushed the door only half shut behind him, so that it swung in the wind and let a small drift collect upon the parlor carpet, until Mrs. Kate, feeling a draught, discovered it, and was shocked beyond words at the sacrilege.
Ford went into the dining-room, crossed it in just three strides, and ran his quarry to earth in the kitchen, where she was distraitly setting out biscuit materials. He started toward her, realized suddenly that the all-observing Buddy was at his very heels, and delayed the reckoning while he led that terrible man-child to his mother.
"I wish you"d close-herd this kid for about four hours," he told Mrs.
Kate bluntly, and left her looking scared and unconsciously posing as protective motherhood, her arm around the outraged Robert Chester Mason.
Mrs. Kate was absolutely convinced that Ford was at last really drunk and "on the rampage," and she had a terrible vision of slain girlhood in the kitchen, so that she was torn between mother-love and her desire to protect Phenie. But Ford had looked so threateningly at her and Buddy that she could not bring herself to attract his attention to the child or herself. Phenie had plenty of spirit; she could run down to the bunk-house--Mrs. Kate heard a door slam then, and shuddered. Phenie, she judged swiftly, had locked herself into the pantry.
Phenie had. Or, to be exact, she had run in and slammed the door shut in Ford"s very face, and she was leaning her weight against it. Mrs.
Kate, pressing the struggling Buddy closer to her, heard voices, a slight commotion, and then silence. She could bear no more. She threw a shawl over her head, grasped Buddy firmly by the arm, and fled in terror to the bunk-house.
The voices were a brief altercation between Ford and Josephine, on the subject of opening the door, before it was removed violently from its hinges. The commotion was when Josephine, between tears and laughter, failed to hold the door against the pressure of a strong man upon the other side, and, suddenly giving over the attempt, was launched against a shelf and dislodged three tin pans, which she barely saved from falling with a great clatter to the floor. The silence--the silence should explain itself; but since humanity is afflicted with curiosity, and demands details, this is what occurred immediately after Josephine had been kissed four times for her stubbornness, and the pans had been restored to their proper place.
"Say! Are you my wife?" was the abrupt question which Ford asked, and kissed her again while he waited for an answer.
"Why, yes--what makes you ask that? Of course I am; that is--" Josephine twisted in his arms, so that she could look into his face. She did not laugh at him, however. She was staring at him with that keen, measuring look which had so incensed him, when he had first met her. "I don"t understand you at all, Ford," she said at last, with a frown of puzzlement. "I never have, for that matter. I"d think I was beginning to, and then you would say or do something that would put me all at sea.
What do you mean, anyway?"