CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
LANCE PLAYS THE GAME
That night Lance sauntered into the bunk house, placidly ignoring thefact that Tom was there, and that some sort of intermittent conferencewas taking place. Cool and clean and silk-shirted and freshly shaved,the contrast was sharp between him and the men sprawled on their bedsor sitting listlessly around the table playing keno. Tom lifted aneyebrow at him; Lance sent him a look to match and went over to thecard players.
They did not want him in the bunk house. He who had spent nearly allof his life on the Devil's Tooth ranch knew that he was not wanted.They did not want him to know that he was not wanted, and by theirvery effort to hide it did they betray themselves.
"Didn't go to Jumpoff after all, dad," Lance remarked idly, a risinginflection turning the phrase into a question.
Tom grunted and got up to go. His men cast furtive glances at oneanother, looked at Lance from under their brows, noted the silkshirt and the low, tan Oxfords, and the texture and cut of hisgray trousers with the tan leather belt that had a small silverbuckle. Plain as it was they knew that buckle was silver. They sawhow clean-cut was the hairline at the back of his head and over hisears--sure sign that he was "citified." And toward the man who iscitified your purely range-bred product cherishes a distinct ifsecret grudge. His immaculate presence made them all feel frowsy andunwashed and ill-clad. And to hide how conscious he was of his owndeficiencies, the man who sat nearest Lance lifted his hat andrumpled his hair still more.
"Duke and Al didn't get in yet, eh?" Lance picked up an extra deck ofcards and began to shuffle them absent-mindedly but neverthelessdexterously.
"Nope--they stayed out," replied a blond man named Winters. Theycalled him "Chilly."
"Hot weather for working cattle," Lance observed indifferently.
"Yeah--sure is," responded Ed Moran, who was low-browed and dark andhad an ugly jaw.
"Yeah--_damn_ hot," testified Jim Bloom. "How's Californy forweather?"
"Oh-h--it has all kinds, same as here." Lance did not want to talkabout California just then, but he followed the lead easily enough."You can get anything you want in California. In two hours you can gofrom twenty-five feet of snow to orange groves. You can have it allgreen, fruit trees and roses blooming in midwinter, or you can hitinto desert worse than anything Idaho can show."
"Yep--that's right, all right. Great place, Californy," Chilly triedto make his voice sound enthusiastic, and failed. "Great place."
"Speaking about climate--" Lance sat down on a corner of the table,eased his trousers over his knees, crossed his tan Oxfords and begana story. It was a long story, and for some time it was not at allapparent that he was getting anywhere with it. He shuffled the deckof cards while he talked, and the keno game, interrupted when hebegan, trailed off into "Who's play is it?" and finally ceasedaltogether. That was when Lance's Jewish dialect began to be funnyenough to make even Chilly Winters laugh. At the end there was ageneral cachinnation.
"But that's only a sample of the stuff they pull out there, ontourists," said Lance, when the laughter had subsided to a few belatedchuckles. "There's another one. It isn't funny--but I'm going to_make_ it funny. You'll think it's funny--but it isn't, really."
He told that one and made them think it was funny. At least theylaughed, and laughed again when he had finished.
"Now here's another. This one really is funny--but you won't feel likelaughing at it. I'll tell it so you won't."
He told that story and saw it fall flat. "You see?" He flipped thecards, tossed them on the table with a whimsical gesture. "It isn'twhat you do in this world--it's how you do it that counts. I'm sittingon your keno game, am I? All right, I'll get off."
He went out as abruptly as he had entered, and he paused long enoughoutside to know that a silence marked his going. Then he heard EdKoran's voice depreciating him. Frankly he listened, lighting acigarette.
"Aw--his mother was an actress, wasn't she? _That_ guy ain't going tocut no ice around here whatever."
"Looks an awful darn lot like Tom," ventured Chilly. "I dunno--youtake a Lorrigan--"
"Him? Lorrigan? Why, say! He may _look_ like a Lorrigan, but he ain'tone. Tom's damn right. He don't set in. Why, like as not he'd--"
"Aw, cut out the gabbling!" Ed's voice growled again. "It's yore play,Bob."
Stepping softly, Lance went on to the house. "I just--_look_ likeone!" he repeated under his breath. "Fine! At any rate," he addeddryly, "I've proved that I _can_ go into the bunk house now andthen."
He went up and sang songs with Belle then, until after ten o'clock. Hewould have sung longer, but it happened that in the middle of aparticularly pleasing "Ah-_ee_, oh-_ee_, hush-a-bye-_ba-by_"yodel, Tom put his head out of the bedroom and implored Lance tofor-the-Lord-sake go up on the Ridge to howl. So Lance forbore tofinish the "ah-_ee_, oh-_ee_," much to Belle's disappointment.
"But you know Tom's been out riding hard and not getting much sleep,so I guess maybe we better cut out the concert, honey," she toldLance, getting up and laying her plump, brown arms across hisshoulders. "My heavens, Lance, you kinda make me think the clock's setback thirty years, when I look at you. You're Tom, all over--and I didthink you were going to be like me."
Lance scowled just a little. "No, I'm not Tom all over--I'm Lance allover."
"You're Lorrigan all over," Belle persisted. "And you're just like Tomwhen he was your age. Good Lord, how time does slip away! Tom used tobe so full of fun and say such funny things--and now it's just rideand ride and work, and eat and sleep. Honey, I want you to know thatI'm glad you learned something a little different. What's the use ofhaving a million, if you work yourself to death getting it? Look atthe boys--look at Al and Duke. They're like old men, the last year ortwo. We used to have such good times on the ranch, but we don't anymore--nobody ever thinks of anything but work."
She lowered her voice to a whisper, her arms still lying on Lance'sshoulders, her clouded blue eyes looking up into his. "That troublewith Scotty Douglas kind of--changed Tom and the boys. You went away.You've changed too, but in a different way. It _soured_ them, just alittle. Tom wants to make his million quick and get outa here. I wasglad when you stirred things up a little, last spring, and gave thatdance. Or I was glad, till it ended up the way it did. It was thefirst dance we'd been to since you left, Lance! And I thought it wouldkind of patch up a little more friendliness with the folks aroundhere. But it didn't. It just made a lot of talk and trouble--and,Lance, honey, I'm awfully darn sorry about that piano. It's down inthe chicken house this minute. Tom wouldn't even have it in the house.And now, I don't suppose there ever will be any chance to make friendswith any one. Tom--well, all of us were so _darn_ mad to think shenever even asked us--"
"Don't care any more about that, Belle. Please don't. And by the way,I took the money Mary Hope wanted to give dad for the schoolhouse.Perhaps he didn't tell you, but he threatened to burn the house downif she left the money, so I took it and gave her a bill of sale in hisname. I wish you'd keep the money. And some day, maybe dad will takeit."
"Tom never told me a word about it," Belle whispered pitifully,dropping her forehead on Lance's broad chest. "Honey, it never used tobe this way. He used to tell me things. But now, he doesn't--much.Last spring, when he built the schoolhouse and all, I was so _glad!_It was more like old times, and I thought--but the fight turned himand the boys again, and now they're just as far off as ever. Lance, Idon't whine. You never heard Belle whine in your life, did you, honey?But I'll tell you this: The only things that haven't changed, on theDevil's Tooth, are Riley and the pintos. And even they let you drive'em to Jumpoff and back last spring without busting things up. They'regetting old, I guess. Maybe we're all getting old. Still, Rosa andSubrosa are only ten past, and I haven't had a birthday for years--
"It's--Lance, do you mind if Belle lets go and tells you things, justthis once? You've changed, some, but not like the rest. Please, Lance,I want to lean against you and--and feel how strong you are--"
br /> A great tenderness, a great, overwhelming desire to comfort hismother, who had never let him call her mother, seized Lance. His armsclosed around her and he backed to an armchair and sat down on it,holding her close.
"Don't care, Belle--it's all right. It's _going_ to be all right. I'mjust Lance, but I'm a man--and men were made to take care of theirwomen. Talk to me--tell me what's been eating your heart out, lately.It's in your eyes. I saw it when I came home last spring, and I seeit now every time I look at you."
"You've seen it, honey?" Belle's whisper was against his ear. She didnot look at his face. "There's nothing to see, but--one feels it.Tom's good to me--but he isn't _close_ to me, any more. The boys aregood to me--but they're like strangers. They don't talk about things,the way they used to do. They come and go."
Lance's big, well-kept hand went up to smooth her hair with acomforting, caressing movement infinitely sweet to Belle. "I know," hesaid quietly.
"And it isn't anything, of course. But the old boys have gone, andthese new ones--Lance, what is the matter with the Devil's Toothranch? Tell me, for heaven's sake, if I'm getting to be an old womanwith notions!"
"You'll never be an old woman," said Lance in the tone Mary Hope builther day-dreams around. "Age has nothing to do with you--you just_are_. But as to notions--well, you may have. Women do have them, Ibelieve." He kissed her hair and added, "What do you think is thematter with the ranch?"
"I don't _know_. When I try to pin it to one thing, there's nothing toput a pin in. Not a thing. You remember Cheyenne? I was afraid Tomwould kill him, after the trial. You know it was practically proventhat he was a spy, and was working to get something on the outfit. Iwas on the warpath myself, over that trial. I would a shot up a few inthat courtroom if Tom had been convicted. You know and I know that Tomdidn't have a thing to do with that darned, spotted yearling ofScotty's.
"But Cheyenne just--just faded out of existence. Tom's never mentionedhim from the day of the trial to this. And I know he hates the wholeRim, and won't have anything much to do with anybody--but he acts justas if nothing had happened, as if nobody had ever tried to make himout a cow thief. He won't talk about it. He won't talk about anythingmuch. When we're alone he just sits and _thinks_. And honey, theLorrigans have always been men that _did_ things.
"He and the boys woke up, and the ranch acted human about theschoolhouse, but it's other times, when there's no excitement around,that I feel as if--I don't know what. It's something underneath.Something that never comes to the top. Something that's liable toreach up and grab." She put a hand up and patted Lance's lean, hardjaw. "I'd shoot any one that said Belle Lorrigan's _afraid_--butthat's about what it amounts to," she finished with a little mirthlesslaugh.
"Belle Lorrigan's not afraid. There's nothing to be afraid of. You'velived in the Rim too long, Belle, and you've been watching dad and theboys chasing that million. I've seen other men working at it, and italways gets hold of them until they don't seem to care for anythingelse. Now, I know an ageless lady who's going to bed and forget allabout her nerves and her notions. Or if she doesn't forget, she'llremember too that she has somebody around who knows--and who cares aheap for his mother." Lance pulled her close and kissed hercomfortingly.
"That helps," whispered Belle. "You've changed, too--but not like therest, thank God. And I thought maybe you had noticed things--"
"I have noticed that the Devil's Tooth is mighty busy chasing dollarson the hoof," soothed Lance. "It has left our Belle alone too much,and it has gotten on her nerves. Go to bed, woman--and dream ofpleasant things."
He took her by the shoulders and pushed her playfully to the very doorof her bedroom, gave her another kiss and turned the knob for her, andwatched her go in with a smile on her face. His own smile lasted onlyuntil the door was closed. He went to the lamp, blew it out andentered his own room, removed his shoes and dropped them on the floorwith more noise than was considerate of his father's slumber, lightedhis lamp and moved aimlessly about the room for a time.
He sat down on the edge of the bed while he smoked a cigarette, hiselbows on his knees, his thoughts traveling far trails. Abruptly herose, put on a pair of well-worn tennis shoes, opened a door leadingoutside and went quietly down to the corrals.
The first corral he crossed and found it empty of any horses save thepintos and Coaley. The second corral held three horses, one of themthe chunky roan he had ridden that afternoon. The third and largestcorral was empty, the gate swinging open.
"All right--no horses caught up for night-riding--_yet_," he said tohimself, and returned to the house, leaving the straighter path topass close to the bunk house. He listened there for a full twominutes, decided that it would take at least five men to do all ofthat snoring, and went to bed thankful for the comfort of a feltmattress under his tired body.
The next day passed without any incidents save trivial ones that didnot count. Lance rode to the creek with his trout-rod and reel--morecitified innovations which the ranch eyed askance--and spent fourhours loitering along the bank, his fly floating uselessly overshallow pools where was never a fish. It was not the right time of dayfor fishing, but Lance seemed to have forgotten the lore he hadlearned along that same creek and others farther away.
Sometimes he could be seen from the ranch buildings, more often hecould not. When he could not be seen was when he was crouched amongthe rocks, studying the Devil's Tooth Ridge with his powerfulglasses.
"Hope he's comfortable," he said once, when, satisfied that his guesswas correct, he put the glasses away and settled down seriously tofishing.
He rode home with four trout, and Riley fried them for supper. Duringsupper Lance criticized Squaw Creek, and hinted that Mill Creek andLava Creek were better fishing waters, and that he meant to try them.
That night at eleven o'clock he made another silent tour of thecorrals and went to bed feeling pretty sure that the ranch would showits present complement of men in the morning.
On the second day, four of the hired cowboys rode in at sundown, andwith them came Al. Their horses were fagged. They themselves weredirty, hungry, tired. Their faces were glum--and the glumness remainedeven after they had washed and eaten ravenously. Al did not come tothe house at all, but stayed down in the bunk house, whither Tompresently went. Lance did not follow.
Belle looked worried and asked Lance constrainedly if he knew why Dukehad not come with the others. Lance laughed.
"Duke? Oh--he's on the trail of another dollar. By heck, Belle, I'mafraid you've raised one son to be a shirk. I don't seem to need allof that dollar chasing to make me happy."
Tom came in then, glanced swiftly from one to the other, saidsomething unimportant, rolled a cigarette with elaborate care, andobserved that Duke would find it hot, riding all the way to Shoshone,and that he'd be darned if he'd go that far for any girl. He sat downand disposed himself comfortably, got up, muttered something aboutforgetting to turn Coaley out, and left the house.
Belle turned and looked at Lance. "Honey, it's that kind of thing--"
"I used to think, Belle, that you had the bluest eyes in the wholeworld," Lance drawled quizzically. "They're blue enough, in allconscience--by heck, Belle! Does a Lorrigan always love blue eyes?"
"I was going to say that--"
"You were going to say that you were not going to say a darned thing,madam. You need a vacation, a trip somewhere. Why don't you beat it,and get your nerves smoothed down a little?"
"Lance, you don't believe Duke--"
"Belle, your boys are old enough to think of girls a little bit, nowand then. Even your baby thinks of girls--a little bit. Now and then.I'm going fishing, Belle. I'm going to fish where there are fish. Andif I'm not back by the clock, for heck's sake don't get yourselfexcited and call _me_ a mystery."
She called after him. "Lance, come back here and tell me the truth!You don't believe--"
"Belle, I'll tell you the truth. Sure, I'll tell you the truth. I tellyou to cut out this worrying over nothing. Why, don't you know theworld
is plumb full of real things to worry about?" He came close,patting her on the shoulder as one pats a child who feels abused forslight cause. "This notion of yours--it's all damned nonsense. Cut itout."
He went off whistling, and Belle gazed after him dubiously, yetreassured in spite of herself. After all, there was nothing.