The Range Boss

  CHAPTER IX

  "SOMETHIN'S GONE OUT OF THEM"

  As Randerson rode Patches through the break in the canyon wall in theafternoon of a day about a week after his talk with Uncle Jepson in thebunkhouse, he was thinking of the visit he intended to make. He haddelayed it long. He had not seen Abe Catherson since taking his new job.

  "I reckon he'll think I'm right unneighborly," he said to himself as herode.

  When he reached the nester's cabin, the dog Nig greeted him withvociferous affection, bringing Hagar to the door.

  "Oh, it's Rex!" cried the girl delightedly. And then, reproachfully: "Mean' dad allowed you wasn't comin' any more!"

  "You an' dad was a heap mistaken, then," he grinned as he dismounted andtrailed the reins over the pony's head. "I've had a heap to 'tend to," headded as he stepped on the porch and came to a halt, looking at her."Why, I reckon the little kid I used to know ain't here any more!" hesaid, his eyes alight with admiration, as he critically examined hergarments from the distance that separated her from him--a neat housedress of striped gingham, high at the throat, the bottom hem reachingbelow her shoe-tops; a loose-fitting apron over the dress, drawn tightlyat the waist, giving her figure graceful curves. He had never thought ofHagar in connection with beauty; he had been sorry for her, pityingher--she had been a child upon whom he had bestowed much of the unselfishdevotion of his heart; indeed, there had been times when it had assumed apractical turn, and through various ruses much of his wages had beendelicately forced upon the nester. It had not always been wiselyexpended, for he knew that Catherson drank deeply at times.

  Now, however, Randerson realized that the years must inevitably make achange in Hagar. That glimpse he had had of her on the Flying Wranchhouse porch had made him think, but her appearance now caused him tothink more deeply. It made constraint come into his manner.

  "I reckon your dad ain't anywhere around?" he said.

  "Dad's huntin' up some cattle this mornin'," she told him. "Shucks," sheadded, seeing him hesitate, "ain't you comin' in?"

  "Why, I've been wonderin'" and he grinned guiltily "whether it'd beexactly proper. You see, there was a time when I busted right in thehouse without waitin' for an invitation--tickled to get a chance todawdle a kid on my knee. But I reckon them dawdle-days is over. Iwouldn't think of tryin' to dawdle a _woman_ on my knee. But if you thinkthat you're still Hagar Catherson, an' you won't be dead-set on medawdlin' you--Why, shucks, I reckon I'm talkin' like a fool!" And hisface blushed crimson.

  Her face was red too, but she seemed to be less conscious of the changein herself than he, though her eyes drooped when he looked at her.

  He followed her inside and formally took a chair, sitting on its edge andturning his hat over and over in his hands, looking much at it, as if itwere new and he admired it greatly.

  But this constraint between them was not the only thing that was new tohim. While she talked, he sat and listened, and stole covert glances ather, and tried to convince himself that it was really Hagar that wassitting there before him.

  But before long he grew accustomed to the strangeness of the situation,and constraint dropped from him. "Why, I reckon it's all natural," heconfided to her. "Folks grow up, don't they? Take you. Yesterday you wasa kid, an' I dawdled you on my knee. Today you're a woman, an' it makesme feel some breathless to look at you. But it's all natural. I'd beenseein' you so much that I'd forgot that time was makin' a woman of you."

  She blushed, and he marveled over it. "She can't see, herself, how she'schanged," he told himself. And while they talked he studied her, notingthat her color was higher than he had ever seen it, that the frankexpression of her eyes had somehow changed--there was a glow in them,deep, abiding, embarrassed. They drooped from his when he tried to holdher gaze. He had always admired the frank directness of them--that toldof unconsciousness of sex, of unquestioning trust. Today, it seemed tohim, there was subtle knowledge in them. He was puzzled and disappointed.And when, half an hour later, he took his leave, after telling her thathe would come again, to see her "dad," he took her by the shoulders andforced her to look into his eyes. His own searched hers narrowly. It wasas in the old days--in his eyes she was still a child.

  "I reckon I won't kiss you no more, Hagar," he said. "You ain't a kid nomore, an' it wouldn't be square. Seventeen is an awful old age, ain'tit?"

  And then he mounted and rode down the trail, still puzzled over thelurking, deep glow in her eyes.

  "I reckon I ain't no expert on women's eyes," he said as he rode. "ButHagar's--there's somethin' gone out of them."

  He could not have reached the break in the canyon leading to the plainsabove the river, when Willard Masten loped his horse toward the Cathersoncabin from an opposite direction.

  Hagar was standing on the porch when he came, and her face flooded withcolor when she saw him. She stood, her eyes drooping with shyembarrassment as Masten dismounted and approached her. And then, as hisarm went around her waist, familiarly, he whispered:

  "How is my little woman today?"

  She straightened and looked up at him, perplexity in her eyes.

  "Rex Randerson was just hyeh," she said. "I wanted to tell him about youwantin' me to marry you. But I thought of what you told me, an' I didn't.Do you sure reckon he'd kill you, if he knowed?"

  "He certainly would," declared Masten, earnestly. "No one--not even yourfather--must know that I come here to see you."

  "I reckon I won't tell. But Miss Ruth? Are you sure she don't care foryou any more?"

  "Well," he lied glibly; "she has broken our engagement. But if she knewthat I come here to see you she'd be jealous, you know. So it's betternot to tell her. If you do tell her, I'll stop coming," he threatened.

  "It's hard to keep from tellin' folks how happy I am," she said. "Once, Iwas afraid Rex Randerson could see it in my eyes--when he took a-hold ofmy arms hyeh, an' looked at me."

  Masten looked jealously at her. "Looked at you, eh?" he said. "Are yousure he didn't try to do anything else--didn't _do_ anything else? Likekissing you, for instance?"

  "I'm certain sure," she replied, looking straight at him. "He used tokiss me. But he says I'm a woman, now, an' it wouldn't be square to kissme any more." Her eyes had drooped from his.

  "An' I reckon that's right, too, ain't it?" She looked up again, notreceiving an answer. "Why, how red your face is!" she exclaimed. "I ain'tsaid nothin' to hurt you, have I?"

  "No," he said. But he held her tightly to him, her head on his shoulder,so that she might not see the guilt in his eyes.