CHAPTER XII
JULIET ASSERTS HERSELF
Now that the owner of the Bar T ranch had succeeded again in a match ofwits with Larkin, he put sheep out of his mind and turned his attention tothe more-immediate danger of rustlers. It had been a matter of a couple ofyears since the last determined attempt of the cowmen to oust thesepoachers by force of arms, and Bissell thought that the time was ripe foranother and, if possible, final expedition.
With Larkin in his power, he had no doubt that the necessary informationcould be procured from him in one way or another, and, after talkingmatters over with Stelton, dispatched cowboys at top speed to the ranchesin his district, asking that the owners and as many men as they couldspare should come at once to a conference at the Bar T.
Having got them there, it was his intention to sweat Larkin for names anddescriptions, and then let him go. Should the sheepman refuse allinformation, then his case could be acted upon by the members of theassociation without any further delay.
All these plans Larkin learned from Juliet and her mother, who lookedafter most of his wants. The latter, good woman, quite flustered at havingwhat she termed a "regular boarder," became rather fond of the patientyoung man from the East who never failed to listen attentively to hernarrative of the famous trip to St. Paul.
The regular boarder, for his part, could not but sympathize with thishomely, hard-working, lonely woman. One rarely connected Martha Bissellwith old Beef Bissell except in an impersonal way, as one would haveconnected the corral, or the barn, or the brand. In fact, the cowmanseemed hardly cognizant of her existence, long since having transferredall the affections his hard life had left him to the daughter heworshiped.
But Martha, as is so often the case with women who grow old slaving fortheir husbands, had not changed in her devotion to Bissell since the proudday they had eloped on one horse and been married by a "sky pilot" in thenearest cow town.
Mrs. Bissell had come to that dolorous time in a woman's life when she nolonger has the power of attracting male attention--which power is not amatter of age, but merely of mind and spirit. And yet there were depths inher, Larkin found, unsuspected because unsought.
Loving her daughter as she loved her husband, she derived a certainnegative happiness from the fact that their exclusive companionshipbrought them pleasure.
For herself she asked nothing, and, as is the way of the world, she gotit.
For Bud Larkin, who had only known her as an angular, uninterestingaddendum of the Bar T, she took on a certain pathetic interest, and hewent out of his way to talk with her about the glories of Chicago, sinceher one dissipation seemed to be mental journeys back East.
Larkin was not strictly a prisoner at the Bar T ranch-house, for this hadbeen found impracticable from a number of standpoints. He had the run ofthe ranch, an old, decrepit cow pony to ride, and could go in anydirection he chose under the supervision of a cowboy who carried aWinchester and was known to have impaled flies on cactus spines at thirtyyards.
Occasionally Bud and Juliet rode out together, with this man in the rear,and renewed the old friendship that had lain dormant for so long. Duringone of these rides the girl, after debating the matter with herself,opened on a delicate subject.
"That Caldwell man is a strange-looking fellow, Bud. Who is he?"
Larkin looked at Juliet closely before replying, but could find nothing inher face to indicate any but a natural curiosity.
"He is a Chicago character I used to know," he returned shortly. "But whatbrought him out here is a puzzle to me."
"You seemed to want to see him pretty badly," said she, assuming a pout."I was really jealous of him taking you off the way he did that firstnight you came."
"That's the first time I have been flattered with your jealousy," Budreturned gayly. "I'll ask him to come again."
And that was the closest she could come to a discussion of Caldwell'sconnection with Larkin. The fact, although she would not admit it, gaveher more concern than it should have, and kept her constantly under acloud of uneasiness. Bud's evasion of the subject added strength to thefear that there was really something horrible in Bud's past.
It was on one of his rides alone that Bud suddenly came to a veryunflattering solution of another problem in regard to Caldwell. Eversince the stampede he had been giving time to the consideration ofSmithy's strange actions that night. There was no love lost between thetwo, that was certain, and why the blackmailer should risk his life todefeat the rustlers and save the man he hated was beyond Bud'scomprehension.
But at last he arrived at a solution that removed all his doubts, and thiswas that Smithy Caldwell had saved him for the same reason that the oldlady in the fairy story was told to preserve the goose.
"Kill the goose and there will be no more golden eggs," remarked the fairysagely, and evidently Caldwell was ready to heed her advice.
It certainly was worth the effort on Smithy's part, and even when Larkinhad finally discovered the man's sordid motives he felt a species ofadmiration for the man's coolness and bravery. He felt, too, that, if hecould not get a grip on the blackmailer before another payment wasdemanded, he could part with the money for the first time with the feelingthat Caldwell had partially earned it.
As to Caldwell's presence among the rustlers, that was another matterentirely, and Larkin could not fathom the mystery. How Smithy, a lowChicago tough, whose only knowledge of a horse had been gained byobservation, could so quickly become a trusted member of this desperategang of cattle-thieves he could not conceive. Was there some occult powerabout the man--some almost hypnotic influence that passed his crossed eyesand narrow features in that company?
Larkin gave it up. But he knew that, should he ever again get his fullliberty, his sheep safely across the range, and the leisure to pursuerustlers, Mr. Smithy Caldwell of Chicago would be his especial prey. Andhe grinned with anticipation at the glory of that moment when he shouldhave the blackmailer in his power with enough evidence to swing him.
Stelton was the one man of the whole Bar T outfit who had suffered fromthe boomerang of his evil plans. It had been through him that Larkin wasforced to accompany Bissell home after the stampede; and now he passeddays and nights of misery, watching the progress of Bud's very evidentsuit. Chained down by his daily round of duties, his time was not his own,and with a green venom eating at his heart he watched the unfettered Budride off across the plains with Juliet, laughing, care-free, andapparently happy.
So greatly did this irk Mr. Stelton that his morose melancholy increasedto a point where his own cowpunchers entertained fears for his sanity, andmade him acquainted with the fact in their well-known tender manner. Thisdid not serve to buoy his spirits, and he cursed himself roundly for theridiculous position into which he had led himself.
As to Juliet, he hardly dared pass a civil time of day with her, soterrible a trial had his thwarted desires in regard to her become.
The fourth day after Bud's arrest old Beef Bissell called for his horseand rode away to the Circle Arrow ranch. Old man Speaker had not seen fitto rally to the cowmen's gathering, and Bissell valued his counsel verymuch; he had, therefore, gone to fetch him.
During the three days of his absence Mike Stelton suffered another ofthose reverses which are so exasperating because they are brought about byour own ugly spirits.
All the time he had continued to eat at the ranch table, and had beenaccorded his share of the conversation and attention. Now, with oldBissell out of the way, his status immediately changed. Mrs. Bissell,Juliet, and Bud were the best of friends, and presented a solid front ofuniform but uninterested politeness to the foreman against which he washelpless. On the second day, for the first time in ten years, he moved hisseat down into the punchers' dining-room and ate with them.
Such a defeat as this could not pass unnoticed among the punchers, who hadnever been accorded the pleasure of their gloomy foreman's presence atmeal times, and Stelton suffered keenly from the gibes of the men.
Stelton e
ndured all this with seeming calmness, but when Bissell returnedthe foreman got his revenge. He outlined with full detail and considerableembellishment the constant progress that Larkin was making with Juliet.Disclaiming any interest of his own in the matter, he explained that thereason for his complaint was the character of Larkin.
"Why, boss, yuh shore wouldn't want a darned sheepman breakin' Julie'sheart," he said, "an' him a Eastern dude at that. You should 'a' seen thatfeller. Yuh no more'n got yore back turned than he carried on with Julietall the time. It made me plenty mad, too; but what could I do about it? Ijust moved my grub-pile down with the boys an' thought I'd tell yuh whenyuh came home."
A half an hour of this was sufficient to work Bissell up into a furiousrage, and, in something the same temper, he sent for Juliet an hour beforedinner.
Now, a man who is subjected to choleric outbursts should never send foranything but food an hour before dinner, for the reason that a verytrivial thing looks, at that time, big enough to wreck the nation.Bissell, however, failed to recollect this simple truth, and greeted hisdaughter with smoldering eyes, that gradually softened, however, thelonger he looked at her.
"There is somethin' I want to ask yuh, Prairie Bell," he began. "Yuh won'tmind?"
"No, dear," she answered. "What is it?"
"This sheepman Larkin--is it true yuh been courtin' with him while I beenaway?"
"I've been riding with him a good deal, and I've seen him every day, ifthat is what you mean. You trust me to be sensible, don't you, father?"
"Yes, Julie, o' course I do; but I'm just thinkin' of yerself--and of me.Dunno what people'd say if they knowed ol' Bissell's daughter wastraipsin' around with a sheepman that stands in with the rustlers. An'you--I allow it'd break my heart if yuh ever got fond of that rascal. He'sa bad lot."
"I can't agree with you in any of those things," said the girl, with justthe right mixture of determination and affection in her voice. "To anyonewho is fair, it is no disgrace to be a sheepman; Mr. Larkin is not in withthe rustlers, as I believe he outlined to you, nor is he a rascal in anyway. Lastly, I don't care what people say about whom I ride with. Mr.Larkin is a gentleman, and that is all I require."
During this speech, which held the middle ground between daring andprudence, independence and acquiescence, civility and impertinence,Bissell's jaw dropped and his eyes opened. He had rarely, if ever, knownhis daughter to make such an explicit refutal of his inferences. His browdarkened.
"Yuh never stuck up fer a man like that in yore life, Julie," he accusedher severely. "That Larkin is a bad one. Mebbe yuh don't know it, but hecan't answer for everything in his life. O' course, you can't understandthese things, but I'm just tellin' yuh. Now, I'm plumb sorry to have to doit, but I want yuh to tell me yuh won't go out with him any more."
"I don't think you should ask me that, father," said the girl quietly. "Iam old enough to choose my own associates. I have known Mr. Larkin foryears, where you have only known him for days. I love you too much todisgrace you or mother, daddy dear; but you must not ask me to act like afifteen-year-old schoolgirl."
To Bissell, after dinner, this talk would have served its intendedpurpose--that of presenting reasonably the reverse side of the argument.Now, however, it merely stirred him up. He looked sharply at his daughterwith his small, piercing eyes.
"Do you defy me?" he thundered, amazed at the girl's temerity. "All I dois try to think up ways of makin' yuh happy, an' now yuh insist on havin'this scoundrel make love to yuh, whether I want it or not. Answer me this,Julie, are you in love with him?"
"I've never met another man I cared as much for," she returned with calmfrankness, looking at him with big, unafraid brown eyes.
"Great Heavens!" cried Bissell, leaping out of his chair and raising hisclenched fists above his head. "That I should come to this! Julie, do yuhknow what yore sayin'? Do yuh know what yore doin'?"
"Yes, I do; and do you want to know the reason for it?"
"Yes."
"Because I think the things that have been done to Mr. Larkin arecontemptible and mean." There was no placidity in those brown eyes now.They flashed fire. Her face had grown pale, and she, too, had risen to herfeet. "I'm a cowman's daughter, but still I can be reasonable. Our rangeis free range, and he has a perfect right to walk his sheep north if hewants to. And even if he hadn't, there is no excuse for the stampede thattook place the other night.
"And last of all, you have no right to keep Mr. Larkin here against hiswill so that he does not know what is happening to the rest of his flocks.I consider the whole thing a hideous outrage. But that isn't all. You havetalked to me this afternoon in a suspicious manner that you have no rightto use toward me. I am not a child, and shall think and act for myself."
"What do you mean by that? That you will help this scoundrel?"
"Yes, if I think it is the right thing to do."
Bissell started back as though someone had struck him. Then he seemed tolose his strength and to shrivel up, consumed by the flame of hisbitterness and disappointment. At the sight, the girl's whole heart meltedtoward the unhappy man, and she longed to throw her arms around him andplead for forgiveness. But the same strain that had made her father whathe was, in his hard environment, was dominant in her, and she stood herground.
For a minute Bissell looked at her out of dull, hurt eyes. Then hemotioned toward the door.
"Go in," he said gently; "I don't want to see yuh."