XVI
THE RODEO
It was with a feeling of some reluctance that Dave drove up to LasPalmas shortly after the lunch hour, for he had no desire to meet"Young Ed." However, to his relief, Austin did not appear, and inasmuchas Alaire did not refer to her husband in any way, Dave decided that hemust be absent, perhaps on one of his notorious sprees.
The mistress of the big ranch was in her harness, having at onceassumed her neglected duties. She came to welcome her caller in a shortkhaki riding-suit; her feet were encased in tan boots; she wore amannish felt hat and gauntlet gloves, showing that she had spent themorning in the saddle. Dave thought she looked exceedingly capable andbusiness-like, and not less beautiful in these clothes; he feasted hiseyes covertly upon her.
"I expected you for luncheon," she smiled; and Dave could have kickedhimself. "I'm just going out now. If you're not in too great a hurry togo home you may go with me."
"That would be fine," he agreed.
"Come, then I have a horse for you." As she led the way back toward thefarm buildings she explained: "I'm selling off a bunch of cattle.Benito is rounding them up and cutting out the best ones."
"You keep them, I reckon."
"Always. That's how I improve the grade. You will see a splendid herdof animals, Mr. Law--the best in South Texas. I suppose you'reinterested in such things."
"I'd rather watch a good herd of stock than the best show in New York,"he told her.
When they came to the corrals, an intricate series of pens and chutesat the rear of the outbuildings, Law beheld two thoroughbred horsesstanding at the hitching-rail.
"I'm proud of my horses, too," said Alaire.
"You have reason to be." With his eyes alight Dave examined the finepoints of both animals. He ran a caressing hand over them, and theyrecognized in him a friend.
"These beauties were raised on Kentucky blue grass. Brother and sister,aren't they?"
"Yes. Montrose and Montrosa are their names. The horse is mine, themare is yours." Seeing that Dave did not comprehend the full import ofher words, she added: "Yours to keep, I mean. You must make anotherBessie Belle out of her."
"MINE? Oh--ma'am'" Law turned his eyes from Alaire to the mare, thenback again. "You're too kind. I can't take her."
"You must."
Dave made as if to say something, but was too deeply embarrassed.Unable to tear himself away from the mare's side, he continued tostroke her shining coat while she turned an intelligent face to him,showing a solitary white star in the center of her forehead.
"See! She is nearly the same color as Bessie Belle."
"Yes'm! I--I want her, ma'am; I'm just sick from wanting her,but--won't you let me buy her?"
"Oh, I wouldn't sell her." Then, as Dave continued to yearn over theanimal, like a small boy tempted beyond his strength, Alaire laughed."I owe you something, Mr. Law, and a horse more or less means verylittle to me."
He yielded; he could not possibly continue his resistance, and in hishappy face Alaire took her reward.
The mare meanwhile was doubtfully nosing her new master, decidingwhether or not she liked him; but when he offered her a cube of sugarher uncertainties disappeared and they became friends then and there.He talked to her, too, in a way that would have won any female heart,and it was plain to any one who knew horses that she began to considerhim wholly delightful. Now, Montrosa was a sad coquette, but this manseemed to say, "Rosa, you rogue, if you try your airs with me I willout-flirt you." Who could resist such a person? Why, the touch of hishands was positively thrilling. He was gentle, but masterful, and--hehad a delicious smell. Rosa felt that she understood him perfectly, andwas enraptured to discover that he understood her. There was somesatisfaction in knowing such a man.
"You DO speak their language," Alaire said, after she had watched themfor a few minutes. "You have bewitched the creature." Dave noddedsilently, and his face was young. Then half to herself the womanmurmured, "Yes, you have a heart."
"I beg pardon?"
"Nothing. I'm glad you like her."
"Do you mind if I call her something else than Rosa, just to myself?"
"Why, she's yours! Don't you like the name?"
"Oh yes! But--see!" Dave laid a finger upon Montrosa's forehead. "Shewears a lone star, and I'd like to call her that--The Lone Star."
Alaire smiled in tacit assent; then when the two friends had completelyestablished their intimacy she mounted her own horse and led the way tothe round-up.
Dave's unbounded delight filled the mistress of Las Palmas with thekeenest pleasure. He laughed, he hummed snatches of songs, he kept up achatter addressed as much to the mare as to his companion, and under itMontrosa romped like a tomboy. It was gratifying to meet with suchappreciation as this; Alaire felt warm and friendly to the whole world,and decided that out of her abundance she must do more for other people.
Of course Dave had to tell of Don Ricardo's thoughtful gift, andconcluded by saying, "I think this must be my birthday, although itdoesn't fit in with the calendar."
"Don Ricardo has his enemies, but he is a good-hearted old man."
"Yes," Dave agreed. Then more gravely: "I'm sorry I let him go acrossthe river." There was a pause. "If anybody harms him I reckon I'll havea feud on my hands, for I'm a grateful person."
"I believe it. I can see that you are loyal."
"I was starved on sentiment when I was little, but it's in me biggerthan a skinned ox. They say gratitude is an elemental, primitiveemotion--"
"Perhaps that's why it is so rare nowadays," said Alaire, not more thanhalf in jest.
"You find it rare?" Dave looked up keenly. "Well, you have certainlylaid up a store of it to-day."
Benito and his men had rounded up perhaps three thousand head of cattlewhen Alaire and her companion appeared, and they were in the process of"cutting out." Assembled near a flowing well which gave life to ashallow pond, the herd was held together by a half-dozen horsemen whorode its outskirts, heading off and driving back the strays. Other men,under Benito's personal direction, were isolating the best animals andsending them back to the pasture. It was an animated scene, one fittedto rouse enthusiasm in any plainsman, for the stock was fat andhealthy; there were many calves, and the incessant, rumbling complaintof the herd was blood-stirring. The Las Palmas cowboys rode likecentaurs, doubling, dodging, yelling, and whirling their ropes likelashes; the air was drumming to swift hoof-beats, and over all was thehoarse, unceasing undertone from countless bovine throats. Out near thegrub-wagon the remuda was grazing, and thither at intervals came theperspiring horsemen to change their mounts.
Benito, wet, dusty, and tired, rode up to his employer to reportprogress.
"Dios! This is hot work for an old man. We will never finish by dark,"said he, whereupon Law promptly volunteered his services.
"Lend me your rope, Benito, till I get another caballo."
"Eh? That Montrosa is the best cutting horse on Las Palmas."
But Dave shook his head vigorously. "I wouldn't risk her among thosegopher-holes." He slid out of his seat and, with an arm around themare's neck, whispered into her ear, "We won't have any broken legs andbroken hearts, will we, honey girl?" Rosa answered by nosing thespeaker over with brazen familiarity; then when he had removed herequipment and turned away, dragging her saddle, she followed at hisheels like a dog.
"Diablo! He has a way with horses, hasn't he?" Benito grinned, "Nowthat Montrosa is wilder than a deer."
Alaire rode into the herd with her foreman, while Dave settled his loopover a buckskin, preparatory to joining the cowboys.
The giant herd milled and eddied, revolving like a vast pool of deep,swift water. The bulls were quarrelsome, the steers were stubborn, andthe wet cows were distracted. Motherless calves dodged about inbewilderment. In and out of this confusion the cowboys rode, followingthe animals selected for separation, forcing them out with deviousturnings and twistings, and then running them madly in a series ofbreakneck crescent dashes over flats and hummocks, t
hrough dust andbrush, until they had joined the smaller herd of choice animals whichwere to remain on the ranch. It was swift, sweaty, exhausting work, thekind these Mexicans loved, for it was not only spectacular, but held anelement of danger. Once he had secured a pony Dave Law made himself oneof them.
Alaire sat her horse in the heart of the crowding herd, with a sea ofrolling eyes, lolling tongues, and clashing horns all about her, andwatched the Ranger. Good riding she was accustomed to; the horses ofLas Palmas were trained to this work as bird dogs are trained totheirs; they knew how to follow a steer and, as Ed Austin boasted,"turn on a dime with a nickel to spare." But Law, it appeared, was aborn horseman, and seemed to inspire his mount with an exceptionaleagerness and intelligence. In spite of the man's unusual size, he rodelike a feather; he was grace and life and youth personified. Now he satas erect in his saddle as a swaying reed; again he stretched himselfout like a whip-lash. Once he had begun the work he would not stop.
All that afternoon the cowboys labored, and toward sundown the depletedherd was driven to the water. It moved thither in a restless, thirstymass; it churned the shallow pond to milk, and from a high knoll, whereAlaire had taken her stand, she looked down upon a vast undulatingcarpet many acres in extent formed by the backs of living creatures.The voice of these cattle was like the bass rumble of the sea, steady,heavy-droning, ceaseless.
Then through the cool twilight came the drive to the next pasture, andhere the patience of the cowboys was taxed to the utmost, for as thestronger members of the herd forged ahead, the wearied, worried,littlest members fell behind. Their joints were limber, and their legsunsteady; one and all were orphaned, too, for in that babel of sound nountrained ears could catch a mother's low. A mile of this and the wholerear guard was composed of plaintive, wet-eyed little calves who madeslower and slower progress. Some of them were stubborn and risked allupon a spirited dash back toward the homes they were leaving and towardthe mothers who would not answer. It took hard, sharp riding to runthem down, for they fled like rabbits, bolting through prickly-pear andscrub, their tails bravely aloft, their stiff legs flying. Others, tootired and thirsty to go farther, lay down and refused to budge, andthese had to be carried over the saddlehorn until they had rested. Somehid themselves cunningly in the mesquite clumps or burrowed into thecoarse sagauista grass.
But now those swarthy, dare-devil riders were as gentle as women; theyurged the tiny youngsters onward with harmless switches or withpainless blows from loose-coiled riatas; they picked them up in theirarms and rode with them.
Once through the gate and safe inside the restraining pasture fence,the herd was allowed to settle down. Then began a patient search byoutraged mothers, a series of mournful quests that were destined tocontinue far into the night; endless nosings and sniffings andcaressings, which would keep up until each cow had found her own, untileach calf was butting its head against maternal ribs and gaining thatconsolation which it craved.
A new moon was swinging in the sky as Alaire and Dave rode back towardLas Palmas. The dry, gray grass was beginning to jewel with dew; thepaths were ribbons of silver between dark blots of ink where the bushesgrew. Behind rose the jingle of spurs and bridles, the creak ofleather, the voices of men. It was an hour in which to talk freely, anenvironment suited to confidences, and Dave Law was happier than he hadbeen for years. He closed his eyes to the future, he stopped his earsto misgivings; with a song in his heart he rode at the stirrup of thewoman he adored.
How or when Alaire Austin came to feel that this man loved her shenever knew. Certainly he gave no voice to his feeling, save, perhaps,by some unconscious tone or trick of speech; rather, the knowledge cameto her intuitively as the result of some subconscious interchange ofthought, some responsive vibration, which only a psychologist couldanalyze. However it was, Alaire knew to-night that she was dear to hercompanion, and, strange to say, this certainty did not disturb her.Inasmuch as the thing existed, why deny its right to exist? she askedherself. Since it was in no wise dishonorable, how could it be wrong,provided it went no further? Alaire had been repelled by LuisLongorio's evident love for her, but a similar emotion in this man'sbreast had quite the opposite effect. She was eager for friendship,hungry for affection, starved for that worship which every woman livesupon. Having a wholesome confidence in her own strength of character,and complete faith in Law's sense of honor, she was neither alarmed noroffended.
For the first time in years she allowed her intimate thoughts freeexpression, and spoke of her hopes, her interests, and her efforts;under the spell of the moonlight she even confided something aboutthose dreams that kept her company and robbed her world of itssordidness. Dave Law discovered that she lived in a fanciful land ofunrealities, and the glimpse he gained of it was delightful.
Supper was waiting when they arrived at Las Palmas, and Doloresannounced that "Young Ed" had telephoned from the Lewis ranch that hewould not be home. Yielding to a sudden impulse, Alaire said to hercompanion:
"You must dine with me. Dolores will show you to a room. I will beready in half an hour."
Dave hesitated, but it was not in human nature to refuse. Later, as hewashed himself and combed his hair, he had a moment of misgivings; butthe next instant he asked himself wherein he was doing wrong. Surelythere was no law which denied him the right to love, provided he keptthat love a secret. The inner voice did not argue with him; yet he wasdisquieted and restless as he paced the big living-room, waiting forhis hostess.
The Austin ranch-house offered a contrast to the majority of Texascountry homes. "Young Ed" had built almost a mansion for his bride, andin the latter years Alaire had remodeled and changed it to suit her ownideas. The verandas were wide, the rooms large and cool and open;polished floors, brilliant grass mats, and easy wicker furniture gaveit a further airiness. The place was comfortable, luxurious; yet it wasa home and it had an atmosphere.
Not for many years had Dave Law been a guest amid such surroundings,and as the moments dragged on he began to feel more and more out ofplace. With growing discomfort he realized that the mistress of thisresidence was the richest woman in all this part of Texas, and that hewas little better than a tramp. His free life, his lack of care andresponsibility, had bred in him a certain contempt for money;nevertheless, when through the door to the dining-room he saw Alairepause to give a final touch to the table, he was tempted to beat anignominious retreat, for she was a radiant vision in evening dress. Shewas stately, beautiful; her hair was worn high, her arms were bareunderneath a shimmer of lace, her gown exposed a throat round andsmooth and adorable. In reality, she was simply clad; but to theRanger's untrained eye she seemed regal, and his own rough clothesbecame painfully conspicuous by contrast.
Alaire knew how to be a gracious and winning hostess; of course she didnot appear to notice her guest's embarrassment. She had rather welcomedthe thought that this man cared for her, and yet, had she deliberatelyplanned to dampen his feeling, she could hardly have succeeded betterthan by showing him the wide disparity in their lives and situations.Dave was dismayed; he felt very poor and ridiculous. Alaire was nolonger the woman he had ridden with through the solitudes; her veryfriendliness seemed to be a condescension.
He did not linger long after they had dined, for he wished to be alone,where he could reach an understanding with himself. On the steps hewaited just a moment for Alaire to mention, if she chose, that subjectwhich they had still left open on the night before. Reading histhought, she said:
"You are expecting me to say something about Panfilo Sanchez."
"Yes."
"I have thought it over; in fact, I have been thinking about it allday; but even yet I don't know what to tell you. One moment I think thetruth would merely provoke another act of violence; the next I feelthat it must be made public regardless of consequences. As for itseffect upon myself--you know I care very little what people say orthink."
"I'm sorry I killed the fellow--I shouldn't have done it, but--one seesthings differently out in the rough and here in
the settled country.Laws don't work alike in all places; they depend a good dealupon--geography. There are times when the theft of a crust of breadwould warrant the punishment I gave Panfilo. I can't help but feel thathis conduct, under the circumstances, called for--what he got. Hewasn't a good man, in spite of what Jose says; Anto confessed to methat they were planning all sorts of deviltry together."
"That is hardly an excuse." Alaire smiled faintly.
"Oh, I know!" Dave agreed. "But, you see, I don't feel the need of one.The sentimental side of the affair, which bothers you, doesn't affectme in the least."
Alaire nodded. "You have made me understand how you look at things, andI must confess that I tolerate actions that would have shocked mebefore I came to know this country. Panfilo is dead and gone--rightlyor wrongly, I don't know. What I dread now is further consequences."
"Don't weaken on my account."
"No! I'm not thinking of the consequences to you or to me. You are thekind of man who can protect himself, I'm sure; your very ability inthat direction frightens me a little on Jose's account. But"--shesighed and lifted her round shoulders in a shrug--"perhaps time willdecide this question for us."
Dave laughed with some relief. "I think you've worried yourself enoughover it, ma'am," he said; "splitting hairs as to what's right andwhat's wrong, when it doesn't matter much, in either case. Suppose youcontinue to think it over at your leisure."
"Perhaps I'd better. And now"--Alaire extended her hand--"won't you andMontrosa come to see me once in a while? I'm very lonesome."
"We'd love to," Dave declared. He had it on his lips to say more, butat that moment an eager whinny and an impatient rattle of a bridle-bitcame from the driveway, and he smiled. "There's her acceptance now."
"Oh no! She merely heard your voice, the fickle creature."
Alaire watched her guest until he had disappeared into the shadows,then she heard him talking to the mare. Benito's words at the rodeorecurred to her, and she wondered if this Ranger might not also have away with women.
The house was very still and empty when she re-entered it.