CHAPTER VII
BOGGED DOWN
Each day during the two weeks that her father had been at the Double RSheila had accompanied him on his rides of exploration. She had growntired of the continued companionship, and despite the novelty of the sightshe had become decidedly wearied of looking at the cowboys in their nativehaunts. Not that they did not appeal to her, for on the contrary she hadfound them picturesque and had admired their manliness, but she longed toride out alone where she could brood over her secret. The possession of ithad taken the flavor out of the joys of this new life, had left it flatand filled with bitter memories.
She had detected a change in her father--he seemed coarse, domineering,entirely unlike his usual self. She attributed this change in him to thecountry--it was hard and rough, and of course it was to be expected thatLangford--or any man, for that matter--taking an active interest in ranchlife, must reflect the spirit of the country.
She had developed a positive dislike for Duncan, which she took no troubleto conceal. She had discovered that the suspicions she had formed of hischaracter during the first days of their acquaintance were quitecorrect--he was selfish, narrow, and brutal. He had accompanied her andher father on all their trips and his manner toward her had grown to beone of easy familiarity. This was another reason why she wanted to ridealone.
The day before she had spoken to Langford concerning the continuedpresence of Duncan on their rides, and he had laughed at her, assuring herthat Duncan was not a "bad fellow," and though she had not taken issuewith him on this point she had decided that hereafter, in self protection,she would discontinue her rides with her father as long as he wasaccompanied by the former owner.
Determined to carry out this decision, she was this morning saddling herpony at the corral gates when she observed Duncan standing near, watchingher.
"You might have let me throw that saddle on," he said.
She flushed, angered that he should have been watching her without makinghis presence known. "I prefer to put the saddle on myself," she returned,busying herself with it after taking a flashing glance at him.
He laughed, pulled out a package of tobacco and some paper, and proceededto roll a cigarette. When he had completed it he held a match to it andpuffed slowly.
"Cross this morning," he taunted.
There was no reply, though Duncan might have been warned by the dark redin her cheeks. She continued to work with the saddle, lacing the latigostrings and tightening the cinches.
"We're riding down to the box canyon on the other side of the basin thismorning," said Duncan. "We've got some strays penned up there. But yourdad won't be ready for half an hour yet. You're in something of a hurry,it seems."
"You are going, I suppose?" questioned Sheila, pulling at the rear cinch,the pony displaying a disinclination to allow it to be buckled.
"I reckon."
"I don't see," said Sheila, straightening and facing him, "why you have togo with father everywhere."
Duncan flushed. "Your father's aiming to learn the business," he said."I'm showing him, telling him what I know about it. There's a chance thatI won't be with the Double R after the fall round-up, if a deal which Ihave got on goes through."
"And I suppose you have a corner on all the knowledge of ranch life,"suggested Sheila sarcastically.
He flushed darkly, but did not answer.
After Sheila had completed the tightening of the cinches she led the ponybeside the corral fence, mounted, and without looking at Duncan started toride away.
"Wait!" he shouted, and she drew the pony to a halt and sat in the saddle,looking down at him with a contemptuous gaze as he stood in front of her.
"I thought you was going with your father?" he said.
"You are mistaken." She could not repress a smile over the expression ofdisappointment on his face. But without giving him any furthersatisfaction she urged her pony forward, leaving him standing beside thecorral gates watching her with a frown.
She smiled many times while riding toward the river, thinking of hisdiscomfiture, reveling in the thought that for once she had shown him thatshe resented the attitude of familiarity which he had adopted toward her.
She sat erect in the saddle, experiencing a feeling of elation whichbrought the color into her face and brightened her eyes. It was the firsttime since her arrival at the Double R that she had been able to ride outalone, and it was also the first time that she really appreciated thevastness and beauty of the country. For the trail to the river, which shehad decided she would follow, led through a fertile country where thebunch grass grew long and green, the barren stretches of alkali wereinfrequent, and where the low wooded hills and the shallow gullies seemedto hint at the mystery. Before long the depression which had made her lifemiserable had fled and she was enjoying herself.
When she reached the river she crossed it at a shallow and urged her ponyup a sloping bank and out upon a grass plain that spread away like thelevel of a great, green sea. Once into the plain, though, she discoveredthat its promise of continuing green was a mere illusion, for the grassgrew here in bunches, the same as it grew on the Double R side of theriver. Yet though she was slightly disappointed she found many things tointerest her, and she lingered long over the odd rock formations that sheencountered and spent much time peering down into gullies and exploringsand draws which seemed to be on every side.
About noon, when she became convinced that she had seen everything worthseeing in that section of the country, she wheeled her pony and headed itback toward the river. She reached it after a time and urged her beastalong its banks, searching for the shallow which she had crossed some timebefore. A dim trail led along the river and she felt certain that if shefollowed it long enough it would lead her to the crossing, but afterriding half an hour and encountering nothing but hills and rock cliffs shebegan to doubt. But she rode on for another half hour and then, slightlydisturbed over her inability to find the shallow, she halted the pony andlooked about her.
The country was strange and unfamiliar and a sudden misgiving assailedher. Had she lost her idea of direction? She looked up at the sun and sawthat it was slightly past the zenith on its downward path. She smiled. Ofcourse all she had to do was to follow the river and in time she wouldcome in sight of the Double R buildings. Certain that she had missed theshallow because of her interest in other things, she urged her pony aboutand cantered it slowly over the back trail. A little later, seeing anarroyo which seemed to give promise of leading to the shallow she sought,she descended it and found that it led to a flat and thence to the river.The crossing seemed unfamiliar, and yet she supposed that one crossingwould do quite as well as another, and so she smiled and continued ontoward it.
There was a fringe of shrubbery at the edge of what appeared to have oncebeen a swamp, though now it was dry and made fairly good footing for herpony. The animal acted strangely, however, when she tried to urge itthrough the fringing shrubbery, and she was compelled to use her quirtvigorously.
Once at the water's edge she halted the pony and viewed the crossing withsatisfaction. She decided that it was a much better crossing than the oneshe had encountered on the trip out. It was very shallow, not over thirtyfeet wide, she estimated, and through the clear water she could easily seethe hard, sandy bottom. It puzzled her slightly to observe that there wereno wagon tracks or hoof prints in the sand anywhere around her, as therewould be were the crossing used ever so little. It seemed to be anisolated section of the country though, and perhaps the cattlemen used thecrossing little--there was even a chance that she was the first todiscover its existence. She must remember to ask someone about it when shereturned to the Double R.
She urged the pony gently with her booted heel and voice, but the littleanimal would not budge. Impatient over its obstinacy, she again appliedthe quirt vigorously. Stung to desperation the pony stood erect for aninstant, pawing the air frantically with its fore hoofs, and then, as thequirt continued to lash its flanks, it lunged forward, snorting inappare
nt fright, made two or three eccentric leaps, splashing water highover Sheila's head, and then came to a sudden stop in the middle of thestream.
Sheila nibbled at her lips in vexation. Again, convinced that the pony wasmerely exhibiting obstinacy, she applied the quirt to its flanks. Theanimal floundered and struggled, but did not move out of its tracks.
Evidently something had gone wrong. Sheila peered over the pony's maneinto the water, which was still clear in spite of the pony's struggling,and sat suddenly erect, stifling cry of amazement. The pony was miredfast! Its legs, to a point just above the knees, had disappeared into theriver bottom!
As she straightened, a chilling fear clutching at her heart, she felt thecold water of the river splashing against her booted legs. And nowknowledge came to her in a sudden, sickening flood. She had ridden herpony fairly into a bed of quicksand!
For some minutes she sat motionless in the saddle, stunned and nerveless.She saw now why there were no tracks or hoof prints leading down into thecrossing. She remembered now that Duncan had warned her of the presence ofquicksand in the river, but the chance of her riding into any of it hadseemed to be so remote that she had paid very little attention to Duncan'swarning. Much as she disliked the man she would have given much to havehim close at hand now. If he had only followed her!
She was surprised at her coolness. She realized that the situation wasprecarious, for though she had never before experienced a quicksand, shehad read much of them in books, and knew that the pony was hopelesslymired. But it seemed that there could be no immediate danger, for theriver bottom looked smooth and hard; it was grayish-black, and she was socertain that the footing was good that she pulled her feet out of thestirrups, swung around, and stepped down into the water.
She had stepped lightly, bearing only a little of her weight on the footwhile holding to the saddle, but the foot sank instantly into the sand andthe water darkened around it. She tried again in another spot, putting alittle more weight on her foot this time. She went in almost to the kneeand was surprised to find that she had to exert some little strength topull the foot out, there was so great a suction.
With the discovery that she was really in a dangerous predicament came amental panic which threatened to take the form of hysteria. She heldtightly to the pommel of the saddle, shutting her eyes on the desolateworld around her, battling against the great fear that rose within her andchoked her. When she opened her eyes again the world was reeling andobjects around her were strangely blurred, but she held tightly to thesaddle, telling herself that she must retain her composure, and after atime she regained the mastery over herself.
With the return of her mental faculties she began to give some thought toescape. But escape seemed to be impossible. Looking backward toward thebank she had left, she saw that the pony must have come fifteen or twentyfeet in the two or three plunges it had made. She found herself wonderinghow it could have succeeded in coming that distance. Behind her the waterhad become perfectly clear, and the impressions left by the pony's hoofshad filled up and the river bottom looked as smooth and inviting as it hadseemed when she had urged the pony into it.
In front of her was a stretch of water of nearly the same width as thatwhich lay behind her. To the right and left the grayish-black sand spreadfar, but only a short distance beyond where she could discern the sandthere were rocks that stuck above the water with little ripples aroundthem.
The rocks were too far away to be of any assistance to her, however, andher heart sank when she realized that her only hope of escape lay directlyahead.
She leaned over and laid her head against the pony's neck, smoothing andpatting its shoulders. The animal whinnied appealingly and she stifled asob of remorse over her action in forcing it into the treacherous sand,for it had sensed the danger while obeying her blindly.
How long she lay with her head against the pony's neck she did not know,but when she finally sat erect again she found that the water was touchingthe hem of her riding skirt and that her feet, dangling at each side ofthe pony, were deep in the sand of the river bottom. With a cry of frightshe drew them out and crossed them before her on the pommel of the saddle.With the movement the pony sank several inches, it seemed to her; she sawthe water suddenly flow over its back; heard it neigh loudly, appealingly,with a note of anguish and terror which seemed almost human, and feeling asudden, responsive emotion of horror and despair, Sheila bowed her headagainst the pony's mane and sobbed softly.
They would both die, she knew--horribly. They would presently sink beneaththe surface of the sand, the water would flow over them and obliterate alltraces of their graves, and no one would ever know what had become ofthem.
Some time later--it might have been five minutes or an hour--Sheila couldnot have told--she heard the pony neigh again, and this time it seemedthere was a new note in the sound--a note of hope! She raised her head andlooked up. And there on the bank before her, uncoiling his rope from thesaddle horn and looking very white and grim, was Dakota!
Sheila sat motionless, not knowing whether to cry or laugh, finallycompromising with the appeal, uttered with all the composure at hercommand:
"Won't you please get us out of here?"
"That's what I am aiming to do," he said, and never did a voice soundsweeter in her ears; at that moment she almost forgave him for the greatcrime he had committed against her.
"WON'T YOU PLEASE GET US OUT OF THIS?"]
He seemed not in the least excited, continuing to uncoil his rope andrecoil it again into larger loops. "Hold your hands over your head!" camehis command.
She did as she was bidden. He had not dismounted from his pony, but hadridden up to the very edge of the quicksand, and as she raised her handsshe saw him twirl the rope once, watched as it sailed out, settled downaround her waist, and was drawn tight.
There was now a grim smile on his face. "You're in for a wetting," hesaid. "I'm sorry--but it can't be helped. Get your feet off to one side sothat you won't get mixed up with the saddle. And keep your head above thewater."
"Ye-s," she answered tremulously, dreading the ordeal, dreading still morethe thought of her appearance when she would finally reach the bank.
His pony was in motion instantly, pulling strongly, following out itscustom of dragging a roped steer, and Sheila slipped off the saddle andinto the water, trying to keep her feet under her. But she overbalancedand fell with a splash, and in this manner was dragged, gasping,strangling, and dripping wet, to the bank.
Dakota was off his pony long before she had reached the solid ground andwas at her side before she had cleared the water, helping her to her feetand loosening the noose about her waist.
"Don't, please!" she said frigidly, as his hand touched her.
"Then I won't." He smiled and stepped back while she fumbled with the ropeand finally threw it off. "What made you try that shallow?" he asked.
"I suppose I have a right to ride where I please?" He had saved her life,of course, and she was very grateful to him, but that was no reason why heshould presume to speak familiarly to her. She really believed--in spiteof the obligation under which he had placed her--that she hated him morethan ever.
But he did not seem to be at all disturbed over her manner. On thecontrary, looking at him and trying her best to be scornful, he seemed tobe laboring heroically to stifle some emotion--amusement, she decided--andshe tried to freeze him with an icy stare.
"Now, you don't look dignified, for a fact," he grinned, brazenly allowinghis mirth to show in his eyes and in the sudden, curved lines that hadcome around his mouth. "Still, you couldn't expect to look dignified, nomatter how hard you tried, after being dragged through the water likethat. Now could you?"
"It isn't the first time that I have amused you!" she said with angrysarcasm.
A cloud passed over his face, but was instantly superseded by a smile.
"So you haven't forgotten?" he said.
She did not deign to answer, but turned her back to him and looked at herpartially subme
rged pony.
"Want to try it again?" he said mockingly.
She turned slowly and looked at him, her eyes flashing.
"Will you please stop being silly!" she said coldly. "If you were humanyou would be trying to get my pony out of that sand instead of standingthere and trying to be smart!"
"Did you think that I was going to let him drown?" His smile had in it aquality of subtle mockery which made her eyes blaze with anger. Evidentlyhe observed it for he smiled as he walked to his pony, coiling his ropeand hanging it from the pommel of the saddle. "I certainly am not going tolet your horse drown," he assured her, "for in this country horses aresometimes more valuable than people."
"Then why didn't you save the pony first?" she demanded hotly.
"How could I," he returned, fixing her with an amused glance, "with youlooking so appealingly at me?"
She turned abruptly and left him, walking to a flat rock and seatingherself upon it, wringing the water from her skirts, trying to get herhair out of her eyes, feeling very miserable, and wishing devoutly thatDakota might drown himself--after he had succeeded in pulling the ponyfrom the quicksand.
But Dakota did not drown himself. Nor did he pull the pony out of thequicksand. She watched him as he rode to the water's edge and looked atthe animal. Her heart sank when he turned and looked gravely at her.
"I reckon your pony's done for, ma'am," he said. "There isn't anything ofhim above the sand but his head and a little of his neck. He's too fargone, ma'am. In half an hour he'll----"
Sheila stood up, wet and excited. "Can't you do something?" she pleaded."Couldn't you pull him out with your lariat--like you did me?"
There was a grim humor in his smile. "What do you reckon would havehappened to you if I had tried to pull you out by the neck?" he asked.
"But can't you do _something_?" she pleaded, her icy attitude toward himmelting under the warmth of her affection and sympathy for the unfortunatepony. "Please do something!" she begged.
His face changed expression and he tapped one of his holsterssignificantly. "There's only this left, I reckon. Pulling him out by theneck would break it, sure. And it's never a nice thing to see--or hear--ahorse or a cow sinking in quicksand. I've seen it once or twice and----"
Sheila shuddered and covered her face with her hands, for his words hadset her imagination to working.
"Oh!" she said and became silent.
Dakota stood for a moment, watching her, his face grim with sympathy.
"It's too bad," he said finally. "I don't like to shoot him, any more thanyou want to see it done. I reckon, though, that the pony would thank mefor doing it if he could have anything to say about it." He walked overclose to her, speaking in a low voice. "You can't stay here, of course.You'll have to take my horse, and you'll have to go right now, if youdon't want to be around when the pony----"
"Please don't," she said, interrupting him. He relapsed into silence, andstood gravely watching her as she resumed her toilet.
She disliked to accept his offer of the pony, but there seemed to be noother way. She certainly could not walk to the Double R ranchhouse, evento satisfy a desire to show him that she would not allow him to place herunder any obligation to him.
"I've got to tell you one thing," he said presently, standing erect andlooking earnestly at her. "If Duncan is responsible for your safety inthis country he isn't showing very good judgment in letting you run aroundalone. There are dangers that you know nothing about, and you don't know athing about the country. Someone ought to take care of you."
"As you did, for example," she retorted, filled with anger over hispresent solicitation for her welfare, as contrasted to his treatment ofher on another occasion.
A slow red filled his cheeks. Evidently he did possess _some_self-respect, after all. Contrition, too, she thought she could detect inhis manner and in his voice.
"But I didn't hurt you, anyway," he said, eyeing her steadily.
"Not if you call ruining a woman's name not 'hurting' her," she answeredbitterly.
"I am sorry for that, Miss Sheila," he said earnestly. "I had an idea thatnight--and still have it, for that matter--that I was an instrument--Well, I had an idea, that's all. But I haven't told anybody about whathappened--I haven't even hinted it to anybody. And I told the parson toget out of the country, so he wouldn't do any gassing about it. And Ihaven't been over to Dry Bottom to have the marriage recorded--and I amnot going to go. So that you can have it set aside at any time."
Yes, she could have the marriage annulled, she knew that. But thecontemplation of her release from the tie that bound her to him did notlessen the gravity of the offense in her eyes. She told herself that shehated him with a remorseless passion which would never cease until heceased to live. No action of his could repair the damage he had done toher. She told him so, plainly.
"I didn't know you were so blood-thirsty as that," he laughed in quietmockery. "Maybe it would be a good thing for you if I did die--or getkilled. But I'm not allowing that I'm ready to die yet, and certainly amnot going to let anybody kill me if I can prevent it. I reckon you're notthinking of doing the killing yourself?"
"If I told my father--" she began, but hesitated when she saw his lipssuddenly straighten and harden and his eyes light with a deep contempt.
"So you haven't told your father?" he laughed. "I was sure you had takenhim into your confidence by this time. But I reckon it's a mighty goodthing that you didn't--for your father. Like as not if you'd tell him he'dget some riled and come right over to see me, yearning for my blood. Andthen I'd have to shoot him up some. And that would sure be too bad--youloving him as you do."
"I suppose you would shoot him like you shot that poor fellow in Lazette,"she taunted, bitterly.
"Like I did that poor fellow in Lazette," he said, with broad, ironicemphasis. "You saw me shoot Blanca, of course, for you were there. But youdon't know what made me shoot him, and I am not going to tell you--it'snone of your business."
"Indeed!" Her voice was burdened with contempt. "I suppose you take acertain pride in your ability to murder people." She placed a venomousaccent on the "Murder."
"Lots of people ought to be murdered," he drawled, using the accent shehad used.
Her contempt of him grew. "Then I presume you have others in mind--whomyou will shoot when the mood strikes you?" she said.
"Perhaps." His smile was mysterious and mocking, and she saw in his eyesthe reckless gleam which she had noted that night while in the cabin withhim. She shuddered and walked to the pony--his pony.
"If you have quite finished I believe I will be going," she said, holdingher chin high and averting her face. "I will have one of the men bringyour horse to you."
"I believe I have quite finished," he returned, mimicking her cold,precise manner of speech.
She disdainfully refused his proffer of assistance and mounted the pony.He stood watching her with a smile, which she saw by glancing covertly athim while pretending to arrange the stirrup strap. When she started toride away without even glancing at him, she heard his voice, with itsabsurd, hateful drawl:
"And she didn't even thank me," he said with mock bitterness anddisappointment.
She turned and made a grimace at him. He bowed and smiled.
"You are entirely welcome," she said.
He was standing on the edge of the quicksand, watching her, when shereached the long rise upon which she had sat on her pony on a day someweeks before, and when she turned he waved a hand to her. A little latershe vanished over the rise, and she had not ridden very far when she heardthe dull report of his pistol. She shivered, and rode on.