CHAPTER TWELVE
SHE WILL, AND SHE WON'T
Cottonwood Spring was a dished-out oasis just under the easy slope ofDevil's Tooth Ridge. From no part of the Jumpoff trail could it beseen, and the surrounding slope did not offer much inducement tocattle in March, when water was plentiful; wherefore riders wouldscarcely wander into the saucer-like hollow that contained thecottonwoods and the spring. A picnic had once been held there, but thefestivities had been marred by a severe thunderstorm that came just asa wordy quarrel between two drunken cowpunchers was fast nearing thegun-pulling stage. Lightning had struck the side hill just beyond thegrove, and the shock of it had knocked down and stunned the twodisputants, and three saddle horses standing in the muddy overflowfrom the spring. For this reason, perhaps, and because it was onLorrigan land, the place had never thereafter been frequented save bythe stock that watered there.
But from the head of the little basin a wide view was had of thebroken land beyond Devil's Tooth. The spring was clear and cold andnever affected by drouth. By following the easy slope around the pointof the main trail from Jumpoff to the Lorrigan ranch, no road-buildingwas necessary, and in summer the cottonwoods looked very cool andinviting--though at certain times they harbored buffalo gnats and manyred ants that would bite, which rendered the shade less grateful thanit looked. But to the Lorrigans it seemed an ideal site for aschoolhouse.
Ten days after they had planned the deed, the schoolhouse stood readyfor the dance. In the lean-to shed, twelve shiny yellow desks thatsmelled strongly of varnish were stacked in their heavy paperswaddlings, waiting to be set in place when the dance was done. Belleherself had hemmed scrim curtains for the windows, which Riley hadwashed copiously. The blackboard, with the names of various Devil'sTooth men and a "motto" or two scrawled upon it was in place; theglobe was on the teacher's desk, and the water bucket on its shelf inthe corner, with a shiny new tin dipper hanging on a nail above it.
If you were to believe the frequent declarations, every puncher on theranch had done his durnedest to put 'er up, and put 'er up right. SamPretty Cow had nailed a three-foot American flag to the front gable,and had landed on a nail when he jumped from the eaves. On the nightof the dance he was hobbling around the chuck-wagon with half a poundof salt pork bound to his foot, helping Riley, who had driven over tothe spring early, burdened with the importance of his share in theentertainment.
A dance in the Black Rim country has all the effect of a dog fight ina small village with empty streets. No sooner does it start than onewonders where all the people came from.
At eight o'clock toiling horses drawing full loads of humanity beganto appear over the rim of the hollow, to pick their way carefully downtoward the lighted windows, urged by their drivers. Men on horsebackmade the descent more swiftly, with a clatter of small rocks kickedloose as they came. They encountered a four-wire fence, circled it towhere a lantern, hung on a post, revealed a gate that lay flat on theground to leave a welcoming space for teams and saddle horses to passthrough.
Beside the schoolhouse, with two lanterns shedding a yellow glow onhis thin, sandy hair, Riley, at the chuck-wagon, arranged doughnuts,sandwiches, pies and cakes to his liking, wiped his red handsfrequently on his clean flour-sack apron, and held carefully unprofaneconversation with the women who came fluttering over to him, theirarms burdened.
"No, mom, sorry! I know I'm turnin' down something that's better thananything I got here, but this here party's on the Lorrigans. No, mom,I got orders not to take in s'much as a sour pickle from nobody. Youjest put it back in the rig, whatever you got there, and consider'tyou got some Sat'day bakin' did up ahead.
"Yes, mom, it's Lance's party. He's home for a visit, an' he kindawanted to have a dance an' meet the folks, seein' he's been away quitea spell and kain't stay long.
"Yes, mom, he's goin' back to college first the week.
"Hey! I wisht you'd tie up yore cayuses other side the shack. Folks'llbe comin' around here for their supper, and they don't wanta git theirfaces kicked off whilst they're huntin' grub to fill 'em.
"No, mom, we ain't takin' any cakes or nothin' off nobody. Lance, hewanted to give this dance an' give it _right_. Ain't goin' to costnobody a thing but sore corns, t'night!"
Lance had hired an Italian violinist and his boy who played a harpmuch taller than himself and people coming from Jumpoff had broughtthem out. The Millers had come, with all their outfit. The AJ outfitwas there to a man. The Swedes were present, sitting together in thecorner by the water bucket, and the Conleys, who lived over by CamasCreek beyond the AJ, had come. The Conleys had sheep, and were notfirmly settled in the Black Rim, sheepmen being looked at askance.There were families from nearer Jumpoff,--one really did wonder wherethey all came from, when the country seemed so wide and unpeopled.
Lance was surprised to see how many were there who were totalstrangers. Until the dancing began the men stood outside and smoked,leaving the women and children to arrange themselves on benches alongthe wall inside. Lance knew the custom well enough, and he did not goin. But he tried to see who came with every load that was depositedwithin the circle of light on the narrow platform that embellished thefront.
At nine o'clock, when the musicians were trying their instrumentstentatively and even the most reluctant male was being drawnirresistibly to the humming interior, Lance frankly admitted tohimself that he was not happy, and that his condition was the directresult of not having seen Mary Hope enter the door.
He sought out Tom, who was over at the chuck-wagon, taking an earlycup of coffee. Tom blew away the steam that rose on the chill nightair and eyed Lance. "Well, when do we make the speech? Or don't we?"he demanded, taking a gulp and finding the coffee still too hot forcomfort. "Don't ask me to; I done my share when I built 'er. You cantell the bunch what she's for."
"Oh, what the heck do we want with a speech?" Lance remonstrated."They know it's a schoolhouse, unless they're blind. And I thoughtmaybe some one--you, probably, since you're the one who hazed her outof the other place--would just tell Mary Hope to bring her books overhere and teach. And I thought, to cinch it, you could tell Jim Boylethat you felt you ought to do something toward a school, and since youcouldn't furnish any kids, you thought you'd furnish the house. Thatought to be easy. It's up to you, I should say. But I wouldn't makeany speech."
Tom grunted, finished his coffee and proceeded to remove all traces ofit from his lips with his best white handkerchief. "Where's Jim Boyleat?" he asked, moving into the wide bar of dusk that lay between thelights of the chuck-wagon and the glow from the two windows facingthat way.
"I believe I'd speak about it first to Mary Hope," Lance suggested,coming behind him. "But she hasn't come yet--"
As if she heard and deliberately moved to contradict him, Mary Hopedanced past the window, the hand of a strange young man with a crispwhite handkerchief pressed firmly between her shoulder blades. MaryHope was dancing almost as solemnly as in the days of short skirts andsleek hair, her eyes apparently fixed upon the shoulder of her partnerwho gazed straight out over her head, his whole mind centered upontaking the brunt of collisions upon the point of his upraised elbow.
"I'll ketch her when she's through dancing," promised Tom. But Lancehad another thought.
"Let me tell Mary Hope, dad. I'm going to dance with her, and it willbe easy."
In the darkness Tom grinned and went on to find Jim Boyle standing ina group of older men on the platform that served as a porch. Jim Boylewas smoking a cheap cigar brought out from Jumpoff by the sectionboss. He listened reflectively, looked at the glowing tip of theevil-smelling cigar, threw the thing from him and reached for hiscigarette papers with an oath.
"Now, that's damn white of yuh, Tom," he said. "I leave it to theboys if it ain't damn white. Not having no school district I'm puttin'up the money outa my own pocket to pay the teacher. And havin' fourkids to feed and buy clothes for, I couldn't afford to build noschoolhouse, I tell yuh those. And uh course, I didn't like to goround askin' fer help;
but it's damn white of yuh to step in an' doyore share towards making the Rim look like it was civilized.Sederson, he'll feel the same way about it. And I'm gitting aforeman that's got a kid, school age; we sure'n hell do need aschoolhouse. Rim's settlin' up fast. I always said, Tom, that youwas white. I leave it to the boys here."
Inside, Lance was not finding it so easy to make the announcement.Last Tuesday, Mary Hope had not understood just why he had riddenon ahead of her for two miles--she could see the small dust cloudkicked up by his horse on the Jumpoff trail, so there could be nomistake--when he knew perfectly well that she must ride that way, whenhe could not have failed to see her horse saddled and waiting atthe door. It seemed to Mary Hope an obscure form of mockery to tellher not to be lonely--to tell her in a caressing tone that left withher all the effect of kisses--and then to ride away without onebackward glance, one word of excuse. Until she had mounted and hadseen him on the trail ahead, she had not realized how he had mockedher.
For days--until Friday, to be explicit--she had been quite determinednot to go near Cottonwood Spring. Then she had suddenly changed hermind, dismissed school half an hour early, put old Rab in a lather onthe way home, dressed herself and announced to her mother that shemust ride into Jumpoff for school supplies, and that she would stayall night with the Kennedys. It had taken two years and the dignity ofschool-teacher to give Mary Hope the courage to announce things to hermother. As it was, she permitted her mother to explain as best shemight to Hugh Douglas. Her courage did not reach to that long,uncompromising upper lip of her father's.
She had folded her prettiest dress carefully into a flat bundle, hadthrown it out of her window and left the house in her riding clothes.There was a saddle horse, Jamie, a Roman-nosed bay of uncertain temperand a high, rocking gait, which she sometimes used for long trips. Shesaddled him now and hurried away, thankful to be gone with herpackage and her guilty conscience before her father arrived. She wasvery good friends with the Kennedys, at the section house. If therewas a dance within forty miles, the Kennedys might be counted upon toattend; and that is how Mary Hope arrived at the schoolhouse with aload from Jumpoff. She had seen Lance standing near the door, andLance had paid no attention to her, but had left an AJ man to claimthe first two-step. Wherefore Lance walked straight into trouble whenhe went to Mary Hope and asked for the next dance with her.
"So sorry--it's promised already," said Mary Hope, in her primmesttone.
"There's a dance after the next one," he hinted, looking down from hismore-than-six feet at her where she sat wedged between Mrs. Boyle andJennie Miller.
"So sorry--but I think that one is promised also," said Mary Hope.
Lance drew a corner of his lip between his teeth, let it go and liftedhis eyebrows whimsically at Jennie Miller, whom he had once heardplaying on her organ, and whom he had detested ever since with anunreasoning animosity born solely of her musical inability and herlong neck that had on its side a brown mole with three coarse hairs init.
"If Miss Douglas has two dances engaged in advance, it's quitehopeless to hope for a dance with Miss Miller," he said, maliciouslydrawing the sentence through certain vibrant tones which experiencehad taught him had a certain pleasing effect upon persons. "Or is ithopeless? Are you engaged for every dance to-night, Miss Miller? Andif you are, please may I stand beside you while you eat a sandwich atmidnight?"
Jennie Miller giggled. "I ain't as popular as all that," she retorted,glancing at Mary Hope, sitting very straight and pretty beside her."And if I was, I don't go and promise everybody that asks. I mightwant to change my mind afterwards if some other fellow comes along Iliked better--and I've saw too many fights start over a girlforgetting who she's promised to dance with."
"You don't want to see a fight start now, do you?" Lance smiled downat her without in the least degree betraying to Mary Hope that hewould like to pull Jennie Miller by force from that seat and occupy ithimself.
"I never can see why men fight over things. I hate fights," MissMiller stammered, agitated by a wild feeling that perhaps she wasgoing to be made love to.
"Then don't forget that you are going to dance with me." The musicjust then started again, and he offered her his arm with a certainimport that made Mary Hope clench her hands.
Mary Hope was punished for her lie. She had not promised that dance,and so she sat on the plank bench and saw Lance and Jennie Millersway past her four times before a gawky youth who worked for herfather caught sight of her and came over from the water-bucket cornerto ask her for the dance. That was not the worst. On the fourth roundof Lance and Jennie, and just as the gawky one was bowing stifflybefore her, Lance looked at her over Jennie Miller's shoulder, andsmiled that tantalizing, Lorrigan smile that always left her uneasilydoubtful of its meaning.