CHAPTER THIRTEEN
A WAY HE HAD WITH HIM
It was at the chuck-wagon at midnight, while Riley and Sam Pretty Cowwere serving tin cups of black coffee to a shuffling, too-hilariouscrowd, that Lance next approached Mary Hope. She was standing on theoutskirts of a group composed mostly of women, quite alone so far ascavaliers were concerned, for the gawky youth had gone after coffee.She was looking toward the sagebrush camp-fire around which a crowd ofmen had gathered with much horseplay at which they were laughingloudly, and she was wondering how best she could make Lance Lorriganaware of her absolute indifference to him, when his voice drawleddisconcertingly close to her ear:
"You're not lonely now, you girl--and you did find a secret atCottonwood Spring. A pleasant little secret, wasn't it?"
Mary Hope's hands became fists at her side, held close against herbest frock. "I think the fellows over by the fire have discovered yourpleasant secret," she said, and did not turn her face toward him.
With his arms folded and his eyebrows pulled together and his lipbetween his teeth, Lance stared down at her face, studying it in theflicker of the distant firelight and the two lanterns. If hercombativeness roused in him any resentment, he did not permit it toshow in his voice.
"Some of the fellows from Jumpoff brought a bottle or two. That's nosecret, except that I don't know where they have it cached. Theschoolhouse is your--"
"I heard it was included in the Lorrigan refreshments."
"The schoolhouse is ready for your pleasure Monday morning," Lancespoke with that perfect impersonal courtesy that is so exasperating toa person who listens for something to resent. "I knew of it, ofcourse--dad wanted it kept for a surprise. And he wanted me to tellyou. It's the Lorrigan expression of their appreciation of the need ofa school."
The gawky youth came stumbling up, his outstretched hands carefullyholding two tin cups filled with coffee close to the boiling point.Being a youth of good intentions, he tried very hard not to spill adrop. Being gawky, he stubbed his toe as he was rounding the group ofwomen, and Mrs. Miller shrieked and swung back her hand, cuffing thegawky one straight into the thickest of the crowd. Other womenscreamed.
Lance reached a long arm and plucked the youth out by the slackof his coat, shook him and propelled him into the darkness, wherehe collided violently with Sam Pretty Cow. Some one had beenover-generous with Sam Pretty Cow. A drunken Indian is never quitesafe. Sam Pretty Cow struck out blindly, yelling Piegan curseshoarsely as he fought. The crowd of men around the camp-fire camerunning. For a short space there was confusion, shouting, the shrillvoices of scalded women denouncing the accident as a deliberateoutrage.
Mrs. Miller whirled on Lance. "You pushed him on me! If that ain't aLorrigan trick!--"
"Yeah--what yuh mean? Throwin' bilin' hot coffee on--"
"Who says it's a Lorrigan trick?"
"Might 'a' known what to expect--"
"Get back here, away from the crowd. There may be shooting," Lancemuttered to Mary Hope, and pulled her to the rear of the wagon andaround upon the farther side. She could not resist. His strength wasbeyond any hope of combating it with her small strength. Mrs. Miller,whose scalded shoulder led her to wild utterances without thought oftheir effect upon others, shouted at him as he hustled Mary Hopeaway:
"Yeah--_run!_ You're the one that done it--now run! That's like aLorrigan--do your dirty work and then crawl out and let somebody elsetake the blame! That kid never--"
"Aw, come back and fight, you big sneak!" A drunken voice bellowedhoarsely, and a gunshot punctuated the command.
"Go on--get on the other side of the schoolhouse. Run! The fools willall start to shooting now!"
Mary Hope stopped stubbornly. "I will not!" she defied him; and Lancewithout more argument lifted her from the ground, stooped and tossedher under the wagon, much as he would have heaved a bag of oats out ofthe rain.
"Don't you move until I tell you to," he commanded her harshly, andran back, diving into the thick of the crowd as though he werecharging into a football scrimmage.
"Who was it called me back to fight? Put up your guns,--or keep themif you like. It's all one to me!"
In the dim light he saw the gleam of a weapon raised before him,reached out and wrenched it away from the owner, and threw it far overhis shoulder into the weeds. "Who said a Lorrigan run? I want thatman!"
"I said it," bellowed a whisky-flushed man whose face was strange tohim. "I said it, and I say it agin. I say--a Lorrigan!"
He lifted his gun above the pressure of excited men and women. Lancesprung upward and forward, landed on some one's foot, lunged again andgot a grip on the hand that held the gun. With his left hand hewrenched the gun away. With his right he pulled the man free of thecrowd and out where there was room. The crowd--men, now, for the womenhad fled shrieking--surged that way.
"Stand back there! I'll settle with this fellow alone." He held theother fast, his arms as merciless as the grip of a grizzly, and calledaloud:
"This is a Lorrigan dance, and the Lorrigans are going to have order.Those of you who brought chips on your shoulders, and whisky to soakthe chips in, can drink your whisky and do your fighting amongyourselves, off the Lorrigan ranch. We all came here to have fun.There's music and room to dance, and plenty of chuck and plenty ofcoffee, and the dance is going right on without any fuss whatever.
"This poor boob here who thinks he wants to fight me just because I'ma Lorrigan, I never saw before. It wouldn't be a fair fight, becausehe's too drunk to do anything but make a fool of himself. There'snothing to fight about, anyway. A fellow was carrying two cups ofboiling hot coffee, and he stubbed his toe, and some one got scalded alittle. That's nothing to break up a dance over. The rest of you heardthe noise and jumped at the conclusion there was trouble afoot. Thereisn't. I think you all want to go on with the dance and have a goodtime, except perhaps a few who are drunk. They are at liberty to gooff somewhere and beat each other up to their hearts' content. Comeon, now, folks--get your partners for a square dance--and _everybodydance!_"
His voice had held them listening. His words were not the words of acoward, yet they were a plea for peace, they seemed reasonable even tothe half-drunken ones who had been the readiest to fight. The old-timerange slogan, "_Everybody dance!_" sent three or four hurrying to findthe girls they wanted. The trouble, it would appear, had ended assuddenly as it had begun and for a moment the tension relaxed.
The drunken one was still cursing, struggling unavailingly to tearhimself away from Lance so that he could land a blow. Lance, lookingout across the crowd, caught Belle's glance and nodded toward theschoolhouse. Belle hurried away to find the musicians and set themplaying, and a few couples strayed after her. But there were men whostayed, pushing, elbowing to see what would happen when Lance Lorriganloosened his hold on the Jumpoff man.
Lance did not loosen his hold, however. He saw Tom, Al, three or fourDevil's Tooth men edging up, and sent them a warning shake of hishead.
"Who knows this fellow? Where does he belong? I think his friends hadbetter take care of him until he sobers up."
"We'll take care of him," said another stranger, easing up to Lance."He won't hurt yuh; he was only foolin', anyway. Bill Kennedy, healways gits kinda happy when he's had one or two."
There was laughter in the crowd. Two or three voices were heardmuttering together, and other laughs followed. Some one produced abottle and offered the pugnacious one a drink. Lance let him go with acontemptuous laugh and went to where the Devil's Tooth men now stoodbunched close together, their backs to the chuck-wagon.
"We'll have to clean up this crowd, before it's over," Al was sayingto his father. "Might as well start right in and git 'er over with."
"And have it said the Lorrigans can't give a dance without having itend in rough-house!" Lance interrupted. "Cut out the idea of fightingthat bunch. Keep them out of the house and away from the women, andlet them have their booze down in the grove. That's where I've seen alot of them heading. Come on, boys; it takes ju
st as much nerve not tofight as it does to kill off a dozen men. Isn't that right, dad?"
"More," said Tom laconically. "No, boys, we don't want no troublehere. Come on in and dance. That's yore job--to keep 'er movingpeaceable. I'll fire any man I ketch drinking Jumpoff booze. We've gotbetter at the ranch. Come on!"
He led the way and his men followed him,--not as though they wereparticularly anxious to avoid trouble, but more like men who aretrained to obey implicitly a leader who has some definite purpose andrefuses to be turned from it. Lance, walking a few steps in the rear,wondered at the discipline his father seemed to maintain without anyapparent effort.
"And they say the Lorrigans are a tough outfit!" he laughed, when hehad overtaken Tom. "Dad, you've got the bunch trained like soldiers. Iwas more afraid our boys would rough things up than I was worried overthe stews."
"Shucks! When we rough things up, it's when _we_ want it rough. Al, hewas kinda excited. But at that, we may have to hogtie a few of themsmart Alecks from town, before we can dance peaceable."
Mary Hope, Lance discovered, was already in the schoolhouse. Also,several of the intoxicated were there, and the quadrille was beingdanced with so much zest that the whole building shook. That in itselfwas not unusual--Black Rim dances usually did become rather boisterousafter supper--but just outside the door a bottle was being circulatedfreely, and two or three men had started toward the cottonwood grovefor more. Duke, coming up to Lance where he stood in the doorway,pulled him to one side, where they could not be overheard.
"There's going to be trouble here, sure's you're knee-high to a duck.Dad won't let our bunch light into 'em, but they'll be fightingamongst themselves inside an hour. You better slip it to the womenthat the dance breaks up early. Give 'em a few more waltzes andtwo-steps, Lance, and then make it Home-Sweet-Home, if you don't wantto muss up your nice city clothes," he added, with a laugh that wasnot altogether friendly.
"Mussing up nice city clothes is my favorite pastime," Lance retorted,and went inside again to see who was doing all the whooping. The chiefwhooper, he discovered, was Bill Kennedy, the man whom he had verynearly thrashed. Mary Hope was looking her Scotch primmest. Lancemeasured the primness, saw that there was a vacant space beside her,and made his precarious way toward it, circling the dancers who swungclose to the benches and trod upon the toes of the wall flowers intheir enthusiasm. He reached the vacant space and sat down just intime to receive Bill Kennedy in his lap. But Bill was too happy justthen to observe whose lap he landed in, and bounced up with abellowing laugh to resume his gyrations.
"Don't dance any more, girl," Lance said, leaning so that he couldmake himself heard without shouting in the uproar. "It's gettingpretty wild--and it will be wilder. They must have hauled it out inbarrels!"
Mary Hope looked at him, but she did not smile, did not answer.
"I'm sorry the secret is no nicer," Lance went on. "Now the floor willhave to be scrubbed before a lady girl can come out and teach schoolhere. I thought it would be great to have a house-warming dance,--butthey're making it too blamed warm!"
Some one slipped and fell, and immediately there was a struggling heapwhere others had fallen over the first. There were shrieks of laughterand an oath or two, an epithet and then a loud-flung threat.
Lance started up, saw that Tom and Al were heading that way, and tookMary Hope by the arm.
"It's time little girls like you went home," he said smiling, andsomehow got her to the door without having her trampled upon. "Whereare your wraps?"
"There," said Mary Hope dazedly, and pointed to the corner behindthem, where cloaks, hoods, hats and two sleeping children were piledindiscriminately.
Through the doorway men were crowding, two or three being pushed outonly to be pushed in again by others eager to join the melee. In therear of the room, near the musicians, two men were fighting. Lance,giving one glance to the fight and another to the struggling mass inthe doorway, pushed up the window nearest them, lifted Mary Hope andput her out on the side hill. He felt of a coat or two, chose theheaviest, found something soft and furry like a cap, and followed her.Behind the door no one seemed to look. A solid mass of backs wasturned toward him when he wriggled through on his stomach.
"Where's your horse?" he asked Mary Hope, while he slipped the coat onher and buttoned it.
"It does seem to me that a Lorrigan is _always_ making me put on acoat!" cried Mary Hope petulantly. "And now, this isn't mine at all!"
"A non-essential detail. It's a coat, and that's all that matters.Where is your horse?"
"I haven't any horse here--oh, they're killing each other in there!The Kennedys brought me--and he's that drunk, now--"
"Good heck! Bill Kennedy! Well, come on. You couldn't go back withthem, that's sure. I'll take you home, girl." He was leading her bythe arm to the fence behind the house. "Wait, I'll lift a wire; canyou crawl under?"
"Now, I've torn it! I heard it rip. And it isn't my coat at all," saidMary Hope. "Oh, they're murdering one another! I should think you'd beashamed, having a dance like--"
"Coats can be bought--and murdered men don't swear like that. I'llhave to borrow Belle's pintos, but we don't care, do we? Come on. Herethey are. Don't get in until I get them untied and turned around. Andwhen I say get in, you'd better make it in one jump. Are you game?"
"No Lorrigan will ever cry shame on a Douglas for a coward! You mustbe crazy, taking this awful team."
"I am. I'm crazy to get you away from here before they start shooting,back there." He spoke to the team gruffly and with a tone of authoritythat held them quiet, wondering at his audacity perhaps. He untiedthem, got the lines, stepped in and turned them around, the pintosbacking and cramping the buckboard, lunging a little but too surprisedto misbehave in their usual form.
"Get in--and hang on. There's no road much--but we'll make it, allright."
Like the pintos, Mary Hope was too astonished to rebel. She got in.
The team went plunging up the hill, snorting now and then, swervingsharply away from rock or bush that threatened them with vague horrorsin the clear starlight. Behind them surged the clamor of many voicesshouting, the confused scuffling of feet, a revolver shot or two, andthreading the whole the shrill, upbraiding voice of a woman.
"That's Mrs. Miller," Mary Hope volunteered jerkily. "She's the onethat was scalded."
"It wasn't her tongue that was hurt," Lance observed, and barely savedthe buckboard from upsetting on a rock as Rosa and Subrosa shiedviolently and simultaneously at a rabbit scuttling from a bush beforethem.
He swung the pintos to the right, jounced down into some sort oftrail, and let them go loping along at their usual pace.
"Belle has her own ideas about horse-training," Lance chuckled,steadying Subrosa with a twitch of the rein. "They'll hit this gaitall the way to your ranch."
Mary Hope gave a gasp and caught him by the arm, shaking it a littleas if she were afraid that otherwise he would not listen to her. "Oh,but I canna go home! I've a horse and my riding clothes in Jumpoff,and I must go for them and come home properly on horseback to-morrow!It's because of the lie I told my mother, so that I could come to thedance with the Kennedys. Set me down here anywhere, Lance Lorrigan,and let me walk until the Kennedys overtake me! They'll be comingsoon, now--as soon as Bill Kennedy gets licket sober. You can stop thehorses--surely you can stop them and let me out. But please, _please_do not take me home to-night, in this party dress--and a coat thatisna mine at all!"
"I'm not taking you home, girl. I'm taking you to Jumpoff. And itwon't matter to you whether Bill Kennedy is licked sober or not. Andto-morrow I'll find out who owns the coat. I'll say I found it on theroad somewhere. Who's to prove I didn't? Or if you disapprove of lyingabout it, I'll bring it back and leave it beside the road."
"It's a lot of trouble I'm making for you," said Mary Hope quitemeekly, and let go his arm. "I should not have told the lie and goneto the dance. And I canna wear my own coat home, because it's therein the pile behind the door, and some one els
e will take it. So afterall it will be known that I lied, and you may as well take me home nowand let me face it."
To this Lance made no reply. But when the pintos came rattling downthe hill to where the Douglas trail led away to the right, he did notslow them, did not take the turn.
Mary Hope looked anxiously toward home, away beyond the brokenskyline. A star hung big and bright on the point of a certain hillthat marked the Douglas ranch. While she watched it, the star slid outof sight as if it were going down to warn Hugh Douglas that hisdaughter had told a lie and had gone to a forbidden place to dancewith forbidden people, and was even now driving through the night withone of the Lorrigans,--perchance the wickedest of all the wickedLorrigans, because he had been away beyond the Rim and had learned thewickedness of the cities.
She looked wistfully at the face of this wickedest of the Lorrigans,his profile seen dimly in the starlight. He did not look wicked. Underhis hat brim she could see his brows, heavy and straight and liftedwhimsically at the inner points, as though he were thinking ofsomething amusing. His nose was fine and straight, too,--not at alllike a beak, though her father had always maintained that theLorrigans were but human vultures. His mouth,--there was something inthe look of his mouth that made her catch her breath; somethingtender, something that vaguely disturbed her, made her feel that itcould be terribly stern if it were not so tender. He seemed to besmiling--not with his mouth, exactly, but away inside of his mind--andthe smile showed just a little bit, at the corner of his lips. Hischin was the Lorrigan chin absolutely; a nice chin to look at, with alittle, long dimple down the middle. A chin that one would not want tooppose, would not want to see when the man who owned it was veryangry.
Mary Hope had gone just so far in her analysis when Lance turned hishead abruptly, unexpectedly, and looked full into her eyes.
"Don't be afraid, girl. Don't worry about the lie--about anything. Itwas a sweet little lie--it makes you just human and young and--sweet.Let them scold you, and smile, 'way down deep in your heart, and beglad you're human enough to tell a lie now and then. Because if youhadn't, we wouldn't be driving all these miles together to save you alittle of the scolding. Be happy. Be just a little bit happy to-night,won't you, girl--you lonely little girl--with the blue, blue eyes!"
There it was again, that vibrant, caressing note in his voice. It wasthere in his eyes while he looked at her, on his lips while he spoketo her. But the next moment he looked ahead at the trail, spoke toRosa who had flung her head around to bite pettishly at Subrosa, whosnapped back at her.
Mary Hope turned her face to the starlit rangeland. Again she breathedquickly, fought back tears, fought the feeling that she had beenkissed. All through the silent ride that followed she fought thefeeling, knew that it was foolish, that Lance knew nothing whateverabout that look, that tone which so affected her. He did not speakagain. He sat beside her, and she felt that he was thinking about her,felt that his heart was making love to her--hated herself fiercely forthe feeling, fought it and felt it just the same.
"It's just a way he has with him!" she told herself bitterly, when heswung the team up in front of the section house and helped her down."He'd have the same way with him if he spoke to a--a rabbit! He doesnamean it--he doesna know and he doesna care!"
"Thank you, Mr. Lorrigan. It was very kind of you to bring me." Hervoice was prim and very Scotch, and gave no hint of all she had beenthinking.
"I'm always kind--to myself," laughed Lance, and lifted his hat anddrove away.