CHAPTER XXXI
"DON'T YOU LIKE ME ANY MORE?"
Harshaw's rangers caught up with the militia an hour later. The valleymen were big, tanned, outdoor fellows, whereas the militia company wascomposed of young lads from Colorado towns, most of them slight and notyet fully developed. The state troopers were, however, brisk, alert, andsoldierly. Some of them were not used to riding, but they made the bestof it with the cheerful adaptability of American youth.
The trail of the Indians cut back across the mesa toward Utah. Evidentlythey were making for their home country again. Bob began to hope that theUtes would reach the reservation without a fight. In this desire theowner of the Slash Lazy D heartily joined. He had no impulses toward theslaughter of the tribal remnants.
Others of the party did not share this feeling. Without going into thecauses of the Indian troubles, it can safely be said that thefrontiersmen generally believed that the tribes were dangerous and not tobe trusted. In any difficulty between a white and a red man they assumedthe latter was to blame. Many old-timers held that the only way to settlethe Indian question was to exterminate the tribes or at least reduce themto impotence.
The pursuers followed a hot trail. Twice they had a brush with the rearguard of the flying Utes, during which Bob heard bullets singing abovehis head. He felt a very unpleasant sinking in the pit of his stomach,and could hardly resist the temptation to slip out of the saddle and takerefuge behind the horse he was riding.
The rangers and the soldiers reached Bear Cat long after dark. Dud andReeves had ridden into town ahead of their companions, so that when therest came in they found a hot supper waiting for them on the plaza.
June helped serve the weary men. Big fires had been built on the squareand by the light of the flames Bob could see her slim figure flitting toand fro. Afterward, when the meal was at an end, he saw Dud Hollisterwalking beside her to the hotel. The cowpuncher was carrying a load ofdishes and supplies. It would have surprised Bob to learn that he was thesubject of their conversation.
For the first time Dud had heard that day from Blister the story of themad dog episode. He made June tell it to him again from her viewpoint.When she had finished he asked her a question.
"Anybody ever tell you about the fight Bob had with Bandy Walker?"
The light in her dark eyes quickened. "Did they have a fight?" she askedevenly, with not too great a show of interest.
"I dunno as you could rightly call it a fight," Dud drawled. "Bob hehammered Bandy, tromped on him, chewed him up, an' spit him out. He wasplumb active for about five minutes."
"What was the trouble?"
"Bandy's one o' these mean bullies. He figured he could run on Bob. Theboy took it meek an' humble for a week or so before he settled with Bandygenerous an' handsome. The bow-legged guy might have got away with it ifhe hadn't made a mistake."
"A mistake?" repeated June.
"He had a few remarks to make about a young lady Bob knew."
June said nothing. In the darkness Dud made out only the dusky outline ofher profile. He could not tell what she was thinking, had no guess thather blood was racing tumultuously, that a lump was swelling in the softround throat.
Presently she asked her companion a question as to how Jake Houck came tobe with the rangers. Dud understood that the subject was changed.
The soldiers found beds wherever they could. Some rolled up in theirblankets near the fires. Others burrowed into haystacks on the meadow.Before daybreak they expected to be on the march again.
The bugle wakened them at dawn, but a good many of the cowpunchers werealready up. Big Bill went to one of the haystacks to get feed for hishorse. He gathered a great armful of hay and started away with it. Amuffled voice inside wailed protest.
"Lemme out, doggone it."
Bill dropped the hay, and from it emerged a short and slender youth inuniform. He bristled up to the huge puncher.
"What d'you think you're doing, fellow?"
The cowpuncher sat down on a feed-rack and laughed till he was weak."Drinks are on me, son," he gasped at last. "I 'most fed you to myhawss."
"Mebbe you think because I ain't as big as a house you can sit there an'laugh at me. I'll have you know you can't," the boy snapped.
"Fellow, I'm not laughin' at you. Napoleon was a runt, I've heard tell.But it was comical, you stickin' yore head up through the hay thataway.I'll stand pat on that, an' I ain't a-going to fight about it either."
The soldier's dignity melted to a grin. "Did you say drinks was on you,Jumbo?"
After Big Bill had fed his horse they went away arm in arm to see whatDolan could do for them in the way of liquid refreshment.
Just before the rangers and soldiers saddled for the start, Dud jingledover to his friend who was helping to pack the supply-wagons.
"Lady wants to see you, Bob. I'll take yore place here," Dud said.
Dillon lifted a barrel half full of flour into the nearest wagon andstraightened a body cramped from stooping. "What lady?" he asked.
"Listen to the fellow," derided Hollister. "How many ladies has he got onthe string, do you reckon?" The fair-haired cowpuncher grinned. "Youmeander round to the back of the hotel an' I expect you'll meet up withthe lady. Mollie Larson she--"
"Oh, Mrs. Larson." For a moment a wild hope had flamed in Bob's heart.His thoughts had flashed to another woman in the hotel.
"Why, yes. Mollie runs the hotel, don't she? Was you lookin' for someother lady to send for you?" Dud asked innocently.
Bob did not answer this. He was already striding toward the hotel.
Out of the darkness of the adobe wall shadow a slim figure moved to meetthe ranger. The young fellow's heart lost a beat.
"I--wanted to see you before you left," a low voice said.
A kind of palsy came over Dillon. He stood motionless, no life in himexcept for the eloquent eyes. No words came to help him.
"I thought--maybe--" June stopped, hesitated, and came out impetuouslywith what was in her mind. "Aren't we _ever_ going to be friends again,Bob?"
A warm glow suffused him. The back of his eyes smarted with tears. Hestarted to speak, but stopped. For he was boyishly ashamed to discoverthat he could not trust his voice.
"Don't you like me any more?" she asked. "Have I done something to makeyou mad?"
"No, you haven't." There was a rough edge to the words, put there bysuppressed emotion. "You know better 'n that. I keep away from youbecause--because I acted like a yellow dog."
"When you fought Bandy Walker to keep clean my good name?" she asked in amurmur.
"Oh, that!" He waved her question aside as of no importance.
"Or when you fought the mad dog in the street with yore bare hands?"
"You know when, June," he answered bitterly. "When I let Jake Houck walkoff with you to save my worthless hide."
"I've forgotten that, Bob," she said gently. "So much has happened since.That was foolishness anyhow, what--what we did in Blister's office. But Ihate to give up the boy on Piceance Creek who was kinda like a brother tome. Do I have to lose him?"
There was no need for her big dark eyes to plead with him. His face wasworking. He bit his lip to keep from breaking down. This was what hewanted more than anything else in the world, but he was embarrassed andirritated at the display of emotion he could not wholly control.
"'S all right with me," he said gruffly.
"Then we'll be friends again, won't we?"
"Ump-ha!" he grunted. "I--I'd just as lief." He recognized this ascavalier and added: "I mean it's awful good of you."
"When you come back you won't forget to ask for me if I'm not where yousee me. I'll want to hear all about what you do."
"Yes," he promised; and in a burst of gratitude cried: "You're a dandygirl, June. If you treated me like I deserved you'd never speak to meagain."
She flushed. "That's silly. I never did feel thataway. Lots of times I'vewanted to tell you that--that it needn't make any difference. But Icouldn't, 'count of--what
we did in Blister's office. A girl has to beawful careful, you know. If we hadn't done that foolish thing--"
"A judge'll fix you up with papers settin' you free, June," he told her."I'll do anything to help that you want."
"Well, when you come back," she postponed. Talk on that subjectdistressed and humiliated her.
"I got to go," he said. "Good-bye."
"Good-bye."
She gave him her hand shyly. Their eyes met and fell away.
He stood a moment, trying to find an effective line of exit. He hadmissed his cue to leave, as thousands of lovers have before and since.
"Got to hit the trail," he murmured in anticlimax.
"Yes," she agreed.
Bob drew back one foot and ducked his head in a bow. A moment later hewas hurrying toward the remuda.