CHAPTER XIX.
_"I'm Not Your Wife Yet!"_
Billy, coming back from the biggest town in the country, where he hadgone to pick up another man or two for the round-up which was at hand,met the Pilgrim face to face as he was crossing the creek to go tothe corrals. It was nearing sundown and it was Sunday, and those twodetails, when used in connection with the Pilgrim, seemed unpleasantlysignificant. Besides, Billy was freshly antagonistic because ofsomething he had heard while he was away; instead of returning thePilgrim's brazenly cheerful "Hello," he scowled and rode on without somuch as giving a downward tilt to his chin. For Charming Billy Boylewas never inclined to diplomacy, or to hiding his feelings in any wayunless driven to it by absolute necessity.
When he went into the house he saw that Flora had her hair done in anew way that was extremely pretty, and that she had on a soft, whitesilk shirt-waist with lots of lace zigzagged across--a waist hithertokept sacred to dances and other glorious occasions--and a soft, pinkbow pinned in her hair; all these things he mentally connected withthe visit of the Pilgrim. When he turned to see a malicious light inthe round, blue eyes of Mama Joy and a spiteful satisfaction in hervery dimples, it suddenly occurred to him that he would certainly havesomething to say to Miss Flora. It was no comfort to know that allwinter the Pilgrim had not been near, because all winter he had beenaway somewhere--rumor had it that he spent his winters in Iowa. Likethe birds, he always returned with the spring.
Billy never suspected that Mama Joy read his face and left thempurposely together after supper, though he was surprised when shearose from the table and said:
"Flora, you make Billy help you with the dishes. I've got a headacheand I'm going to lie down."
At any rate, it gave him the opportunity he wanted.
"Are yuh going to let the Pilgrim hang around here this summer?" hedemanded in his straight-from-the-shoulder fashion while he was dryingthe first cup.
"You mean Mr. Walland? I didn't know he ever 'hung around'." Flora wasnot meek, and Billy realized that, as he put it mentally, he had hiswork cut out for him to pull through without a quarrel.
"I mean the Pilgrim. And I call it hanging around when a fellow keepsrunning to see a girl that's got a loop on her already. I don't wantto lay down the law to yuh, Girlie, but that blamed Siwash has got tokeep away from here. He ain't fit for yuh to speak to--and I'd a toldyuh before, only I didn't have any right--"
"Are you sure you have a right now?" The tone of Flora was sweet andcalm and patient. "I'll tell you one thing, Charming Billy Boyle, Mr.Walland has never spoken one word against _you_. He--he _likes_ you,and I don't think it's nice for you--"
"Likes me! Like hell he does!" snorted Billy, not bothering to choosenice words. "He'd plug me in the back like an Injun if he thoughthe could get off with it. I remember him when I hazed him away fromline-camp, the morning after you stayed there, he promised faithful tokill me. Uh course, he won't, because he's afraid, but--I don't reckonyuh can call it liking--"
"_Why_ did you 'haze him away,' as you call it, Billy? And kill hisdog? It was a _nice_ dog; I love dogs, and I don't see how any man--"
Billy flushed hotly. "I hazed him away because he insulted you," hesaid bluntly, not quite believing in her ignorance.
Flora, her hands buried deep in the soapsuds, looked at himround-eyed. "I never heard of that before," she said slowly. "When,Billy? And what did he--say?"
Billy stared at her. "_I_ don't know what he said! I wouldn't thinkyou'd need to ask. When I came in the cabin--I lied about getting lostfrom the trail--I turned around and came back, because I was afraidhe might come before I could get back, and--when I came in, there was_something_. I could tell, all right. Yuh sat there behind the tablelooking like yuh was--well, kinda cornered. And he was--Flora, he_did_ say something, or do something! He didn't act right to yuh. Icould tell. _Didn't_ he? Yuh needn't be afraid to tell me, Girlie. Igive him a thrashing for it. What was it? I want to know." He did notrealize how pugnacious was his pose, but he was leaning toward herwith his face quite close, and his eyes were blue points of intensity.His hands, doubled and pressing hard on the table, showed white at theknuckles.
Flora rattled the dishes in the pan and laughed unsteadily. "Go towork, Billy Boy, and don't act stagey," she commanded lightly. "I'lltell you the exact truth--and that isn't anything to get excited over.Fred Walland came about three minutes before you did, and of course Ididn't know he belonged there. I was afraid. He pushed open the door,and he was swearing a little at the ice there, where we threw out thedish water. I knew it wasn't you, and I got back in the corner. Hecame in and looked awfully stunned at seeing me and said, 'I beg yourpardon, fair one'." She blushed and did not look up. "He said, 'Ididn't know there was a lady present,' and put down the sack of stuffand looked at me for a minute or two without saying a word. He wasjust going to speak, I think, when you burst in. And that's all therewas to it, Billy Boy. I was frightened because I didn't know who hewas, and he _did_ stare--but, so did you, Billy Boy, when I openedthe door and walked in. You stared every bit as hard and long as FredWalland did."
"But I'll bet I didn't have the same look in my face. Yuh wasn'tscared of _me_," Billy asserted shrewdly.
"I was too! I was horribly scared--at first. So if you fought FredWalland and killed his dog" (the reproach of her tone, then!) "becauseyou imagined a lot that wasn't true, you ought to go straight andapologize."
"I don't _think_ I will! Good Lord! Flora, do yuh think I don't _know_the stuff he's made of? He's a low-down, cowardly cur--the kind uhman that is always bragging about--" (Billy stuck there. With her big,innocent eyes looking up at him, he could not say "bragging about thewomen he's ruined," so he changed weakly) "about all he's done. He's amurderer that ought by rights t' be in the pen right now--"
"I think that will do, Billy!" she interrupted indignantly. "You knowhe couldn't help killing that man."
"I kinda believed that, too, till I run onto Jim Johnson up in Tower.You don't know Jim, but he's a straight man and wouldn't lie. Yuhremember, Flora, the Pilgrim told me the Swede pulled a knife onhim. I stooped down and looked, and _I_ didn't see no knife--nor gun,either. And I wasn't so blamed excited I'd be apt to pass up anythinglike that; I've seen men shot before, and pass out with their bootson, in more excitable ways than a little, plain, old killing. So Ididn't see anything in the shape of a weapon. But when I come back,here lays a Colt forty-five right in plain sight, and the Pilgrimsaying, 'He pulled a _gun_ on me,' right on top uh telling me it wasa _knife_. I thought at the time there was something queer about that,and about him not having a gun on him when I know he _always_ packedone--like every other fool Pilgrim that comes West with the idea he'sgot to fight his way along from breakfast to supper, and sleep withhis six-gun under his pillow!"
"And _I_ know you don't like him, and you'd think he had some ulteriormotive if he rolled his cigarette backward once! I don't see anythingbut just your dislike trying to twist things--"
"Well, hold on a minute! I got to talking with Jim, and we're prettygood friends. So he told me on the quiet that Gus Svenstrom gave himhis gun to keep, that night. Gus was drinking, and said he didn't wantto be packing it around for fear he might get foolish with it. Jimhad it--Jim was tending bar that time in that little log saloon, inHardup--when the Swede was killed. So it wasn't _the Swedes_ gun onthe ground--and if he borrowed one, which he wouldn't be apt to do,why didn't the fellow he got it from claim it?"
"And if all this is true, why didn't your friend come and testifyat the hearing?" demanded Flora, her eyes glowing. "It sounds to meexactly like a piece of spiteful old-woman gossip, and I don't believea word of it!"
"Jim ain't a gossip. He kept his mouth shut because he didn't want tomake trouble, and he was under the impression the Swede had borroweda gun somewhere. Being half drunk, he could easy forget what he'd donewith his own, and the Pilgrim put up such a straight story--"
"Fred told the truth. I know he did. I don't _believe_ he had a gunthat night, be
cause--because I had asked him as a favor to please notcarry one to dances and places. There, now! He'd do what I asked himto. I know he would. And I think you're just mean, to talk like thisabout him; and, mind you, if he wants to come here he can. I don'tcare if he comes _every day_!" She was so near to tears that her voicebroke and kept her from saying more that was foolish.
"And I tell yuh, if he comes around here any more I'll chase him offthe ranch with a club!" Billy's voice was not as loud as usual, butit was harsh and angry. "He ain't going to come here hanging aroundyou--not while _I_ can help it, and I guess I can, all right!" Hethrew down the dish towel, swept a cup off the table with his elbowwhen he turned, and otherwise betrayed human, unromantic rage. "Damnhim, I wisht I'd chased him off long ago. Fred, eh? Hell! _I'll_ Fredhim! Yuh think I'm going to stand for him running after my girl? I'llkick him off the place. He ain't fit to speak to yuh, or look at yuh;his friendship's an insult to any decent woman. I'll mighty quick puta stop to--"
"Will Boyle, you don't _dare_! I'm not your wife yet, remember! I'mfree to choose my own friends without asking leave of any one, and ifI want Fred Walland to come here, he'll _come_, and it will take morethan you to stop him. I--I'll write him a note, and ask him to dinnernext Sunday. I--I'll _marry_ him if I want to, Will Boyle, and youcan't stop me! He--he wants me to, badly enough, and if you--"
Billy was gone, and the kitchen was rattling with the slam of the doorbehind him, before she had time to make any more declarations thatwould bring repentance afterward. She stood a minute, listening to seewhether he would come back, and when he did not, she ran to thedoor, opened it hastily and looked. She saw Billy just in the actof swishing his quirt down on the flanks of Barney so that the horsealmost cleared the creek in one bound. Flora caught her breath andgave a queer little sob. She watched him, wide-eyed and white, tillhe was quite out of sight and then went in and shut the door upon thequiet, early spring twilight.
As for Billy, he was gone to find the Pilgrim. Just what he would dowhen he did find him was not quite plain, because he was promisinghimself so many deeds of violence that no man could possibly performthem all upon one victim. At the creek, he was going to "shoot himlike a coyote." A quarter of a mile farther, he would "beat his damn'head off," and, as if those were not deaths sufficient, he was afterthat determined to "take him by the heels and snap his measly head offlike yuh would a grass snake!"
Threatened as he was, the Pilgrim nevertheless escaped, becauseBilly did not happen to come across him before his rage had cooled toreason. He rode on to Hardup, spent the night there swallowing morewhisky than he had drunk before in six months, and after that playingpoker with a recklessness that found a bitter satisfaction in losingand thus proving how vilely the world was using him, and went homerather unsteadily at sunrise and slept heavily in the bunk-house allthat day. For Billy Boyle was distressingly human in his rages as inhis happier moods, and was not given to gentle, picturesque melancholyand to wailing at the silent stars.