Chapter VI
"Cherokee Street"
She was the first to break the silence after her announcement.
"What's the matter? You look as if you had seen a ghost."
He had. The ghost of a dreadful day had leaped at him out of the past.Men on murder bent were riding down the street toward their victim. Atthe head of that company rode her father; the one they were about tokill was his. A wave of sickness shuddered through him.
"It--it's my heart," he answered in a smothered voice. "Sometimes itacts queer. I'll be all right in a minute."
The young woman drew the horse to a halt and looked down at him. Hereyes, for the first time since they had met, registered concern.
"The altitude, probably. We're over nine thousand feet high. You'renot used to walking in the clouds. We'll rest here."
She swung from the saddle and trailed the reins.
"Sit down," the girl ordered after she had seated herselftailor-fashion on the moss.
Reluctantly he did as he was told. He clenched his teeth in a coldrage at himself. Unless he conquered that habit of flying into panicat every crisis, he was lost.
Beulah leaned forward and plucked an anemone blossom from a rockcranny. "Isn't it wonderful how brave they are? You wouldn't thinkthey would have courage to grow up so fine and delicate among the rockswithout any soil to feed them."
Often, in the days that followed, he thought of what she had said aboutthe anemones and applied it to herself. She, too, had grown up amongthe rocks spiritually. He could see the effect of the barren soil inher suspicious and unfriendly attitude toward life. There was in hermanner a resentment at fate, a bitterness that no girl of her yearsshould have felt. In her wary eyes he read distrust of him. Was itbecause she was the product of heredity and environment? Her peoplehad outlawed themselves from society. They had lived with their handsagainst the world of settled order. She could not escape the law thattheir turbulent sins must be visited upon her.
Young Beaudry followed the lead she had given him. "Yes, that is themost amazing thing in life--that no matter how poor the soil and howbad the conditions fine and lovely things grow up everywhere."
The sardonic smile on her dark face mocked him. "You find a sermon init, do you?"
"Don't you?"
She plucked the wild flower out by the roots. "It struggles--andstruggles--and blooms for a day--and withers. What's the use?" shedemanded, almost savagely. Then, before he could answer, the girlclosed the door she had opened for him. "We must be moving. The sunhas already set in the valley."
His glances swept the park below. Heavily wooded gulches pushed downfrom the roots of the mountains that girt Huerfano to meet the fencesof the ranchers. The cliffs rose sheer and bleak. The panorama was awild and primitive one. It suggested to the troubled mind of the youngman an eagle's nest built far up in the crags from which the great birdcould swoop down upon its victims. He carried the figure farther.Were these hillmen eagles, hawks, and vultures? And was he beside themonly a tomtit? He wished he knew.
"Were you born here?" he asked, his thoughts jumping back to the girlbeside him.
"Yes."
"And you've always lived here?"
"Except for one year when I went away to school."
"Where?"
"To Denver."
The thing he was thinking jumped into words almost unconsciously.
"Do you like it here?"
"Like it?" Her dusky eyes stabbed at him. "What does it matterwhether I like it? I have to live here, don't I?"
The swift parry and thrust of the girl was almost ferocious.
"I oughtn't to have put it that way," he apologized. "What I meantwas, did you like your year outside at school?"
Abruptly she rose. "We'll be going. You ride down. My foot is allright now."
"I wouldn't think of it," he answered promptly. "You might injureyourself for life."
"I tell you I'm all right," she said, impatience in her voice.
To prove her claim she limped a few yards slowly. In spite of astubborn will the girl's breath came raggedly. Beaudry caught thebridle of the horse and followed her.
"Don't, please. You might hurt yourself," he urged.
She nodded. "All right. Bring the horse close to that big rock."
From the boulder she mounted without his help. Presently she asked acareless question.
"Why do you call him Cornell? Is it for the college?"
"Yes. I went to school there a year." He roused himself to answerwith the proper degree of lightness. "At the ball games we barked inchorus a rhyme: 'Cornell I yell--yell--yell--Cornell.' That's how itis with this old plug. If I want to get anywhere before the day afterto-morrow, I have to yell--yell--yell."
The young woman showed in a smile a row of white strong teeth. "I see.His real name is Day-After-To-Morrow, but you call him Cornell forshort. Why not just Corn? He would appreciate that, perhaps."
"You've christened him, Miss Rutherford. Corn he shall be, henceforthand forevermore."
They picked their way carefully down through the canon and emerged fromit into the open meadow. The road led plain, and straight to the horseranch. Just before they reached the house, a young man cantered upfrom the opposite direction.
He was a black-haired, dark young giant of about twenty-four. Beforehe turned to the girl, he looked her companion over casually andcontemptuously.
"Hello, Boots! Where's your horse?" he asked.
"Bolted. Hasn't Blacky got home yet?"
"Don't know. Haven't been home. Get thrown?"
"No. Stepped into one of your wolf traps." She turned to includeBeaudry. "This gentleman--Mr.--?"
Caught at advantage, Roy groped wildly for the name he had chosen. Hismind was a blank. At random he snatched for the first that came. Ithappened to be his old Denver address.
"Cherokee Street," he gasped.
Instantly he knew he had made a mistake.
"That's odd," Beulah said. "There's a street called Cherokee inDenver. Were you named for it?"
He lied, not very valiantly. "Yes, I--I think so. You see, I was bornon it, and my parents--since their name was Street, anyhow,--thought ita sort of distinction to give me that name. I've never much liked it."
The girl spoke to the young man beside her. "Mr. Street helped me outof the trap and lent me his horse to get home. I hurt my leg." Sheproceeded to introductions. "Mr. Street, this is my brother, JeffRutherford."
Jeff nodded curtly. He happened to be dismounting, so he did not offerto shake hands. Over the back of the horse he looked at his sister'sguest without comment. Again he seemed to dismiss him from his mind asof no importance. When he spoke, it was to Beulah.
"That's a fool business--stepping into wolf traps. How did you come todo it?"
"It doesn't matter how. I did it."
"Hurt any?"
She swung from the saddle and limped a few steps. "Nothing to make anyfuss about. Dad home?"
"Yep. Set the trap again after you sprung it, Boots?"
"No. Set your own traps," she flung over her shoulder. "This way, Mr.Street."
Roy followed her to the house and was ushered into a room where a youngman sat cleaning a revolver with one leg thrown across a second chair.Tilted on the back of his head was a cowpuncher's pinched-in hat. Hetoo had black hair and a black mustache. Like all the Rutherfords hewas handsome after a fashion, though the debonair recklessness of hisgood looks offered a warning of temper.
"'Lo, Boots," he greeted his sister, and fastened his black eyes on herguest.
Beaudry noticed that he did not take off his hat or lift his leg fromthe chair.
"Mr. Street, this is my brother Hal. I don't need to tell you that hehasn't been very well brought up."
Young Rutherford did not accept the hint. "My friends take me as theyfind me, sis. Others can go to Guinea."
Beulah flushed with annoyance. She dre
w one of the gauntlets from herhand and with the fingers of it flipped the hat from the head of herbrother. Simultaneously her foot pushed away the chair upon which hisleg rested.
He jumped up, half inclined to be angry. After a moment he thoughtbetter of it, and grinned.
"I'm not the only member of the family shy on manners, Boots," he said."What's the matter with you? Showing off before company?"
"I'd have a fine chance with you three young rowdies in the house," sheretorted derisively. "Where's dad?"
As if in answer to her question the door opened to let in a big,middle-aged rancher with a fine shock of grizzled hair and heavy blackeyebrows. Beulah went through the formula of introduction again, butwithout it Beaudry would have known this hawk-nosed man whose gazebored into his. The hand he offered to Hal Rutherford was cold andclammy. A chill shiver passed through him.
The young woman went on swiftly to tell how her guest had rescued herfrom the wolf trap and walked home beside her while she rode his horse.
"I'll send for Doc Spindler and have him look at your ankle, honey,"the father announced at once.
"Oh, it's all right--bruised up a bit--that's all," Beulah objected.
"We'll make sure, Boots. Slap a saddle on and ride for the Doc, Hal."When the young man had left the room, his father turned again to Roy.His arm gathered in the girl beside him. "We're sure a heap obliged toyou, Mr. Street. It was right lucky you happened along."
To see the father and daughter together was evidence enough of thestrong affection that bound them. The tone in which he had spoken tohis son had been brusque and crisp, but when he addressed her, hisvoice took on a softer inflection, his eyes betrayed the place she heldin his heart.
The man looked what he was--the chief of a clan, the almost feudalleader of a tribe which lived outside the law. To deny him a certainnobility of appearance was impossible. Young Beaudry guessed that hewas arrogant, but this lay hidden under a manner of bluff frankness.One did not need a second glance to see from whom the youngerRutherfords had inherited their dark, good looks. The family likenesswas strong in all of them, but nature had taken her revenge for theanti-social life of the father. The boys had reverted toward savagery.They were elemental and undisciplined. This was, perhaps, true ofBeulah also. There were moments when she suggested in the startledpoise of her light body and the flash of her quick eyes a wild youngcreature of the forest set for night. But in her case atavismmanifested itself charmingly in the untamed grace of a rich youngpersonality vital with life. It was an interesting speculation whetherin twenty years she would develop into a harridan or a woman of unusualcharacter.
The big living-room of the ranch house was a man's domain. Amagnificent elk head decorated one of the walls. Upon the antlersrested a rifle and from one of the tines depended a belt with asix-shooter in its holster. A braided leather quirt lay on the tableand beside it a spur one of the boys had brought in to be riveted.Tossed carelessly into one corner were a fishing-rod and a creel. Ashotgun and a pair of rubber waders occupied the corner diagonallyopposite.
But there were evidences to show that Beulah had modified at least herenvironment. An upright piano and a music-rack were the mostconspicuous. Upon the piano was a padded-covered gift copy of "AuroraLeigh." A similar one of "In Memoriam" lay on the mantel next to aphotograph of the girl's dead mother framed in small shells. Thesewere mementoes of Beulah's childhood. A good copy of Del Sarto's Johnthe Baptist hanging from the wall and two or three recent novelsoffered an intimation that she was now beyond shell frames andpadded-leather editions.
Miss Rutherford hobbled away to look after her ankle and to give ordersfor supper to the ranch cook. Conversation waned. The owner of theplace invited Roy out to look over with him a new ram he had justimported from Galloway. The young man jumped at the chance. He knewas much about sheep as he did of Egyptian hieroglyphics, but hepreferred to talk about the mange rather than his reasons for visitingHuerfano Park.
Just at present strangers were not welcome in the park. Rutherfordhimself was courteous on account of the service he had done Beulah, butthe boys were frankly suspicious. Detectives of the express companyhad been poking about the hills. Was this young fellow who calledhimself Street a spy sent in by the Western? While Beaudry ate supperwith the family, he felt himself under the close observation of fourpairs of watchful eyes.
Afterward a young man rode into the ranch and another pair of eyes wasadded to those that took stock of the guest. Brad Charlton said he hadcome to see Ned Rutherford about a gun, but Ned's sister was the realreason for his call. This young man was something of a dandy. He worea Chihuahua hat and the picturesque trappings with which the Southwestsometimes adorns itself. The fine workmanship of the saddle, bridle,and stirrups was noticeable. His silk handkerchief, shirt, and bootswere of the best. There was in his movements an easy and gracefuldeliberation, but back of his slowness was a chill, wary strength.
Roy discovered shortly that Charlton was a local Admirable Crichton.He was known as a crack rider, a good roper, and a dead shot.Moreover, he had the reputation of being ready to fight at the drop ofthe hat. To the Rutherford boys he was a hero. Whether he was onealso to Beulah her guest had not yet learned, but it took no wiseacreto guess that he wanted to be.
As soon as the eyes of Charlton and Beaudry met there was born betweenthem an antagonism. Jealousy sharpened the suspicions of the youngrancher. He was the sort of man that cannot brook rivalry. That thenewcomer had been of assistance to Miss Rutherford was enough in itselfto stir his doubts.
He set himself to verify them.