Paradise Bend

  CHAPTER XVI

  KATE IS HELPFUL

  At six o'clock Kate returned.

  "It took me longer than I expected," she whispered, Dorothy and Mrs.Mace being in the kitchen. "It's just as we thought. Our friend, Mr.O'Leary, was back of the dance. He suggested it to Mrs. Ragsdale, andshe got it up.

  "I don't believe O'Leary heard any of our conversation. He met me downstreet and smirked and grinned and tried to invite himself up to see meto-night. But I settled him. I said I'd be busy for the next twoweeks. Look here, Tom, don't look so worried. If he heard what wesaid, don't you suppose he'd leave town immediately? Of course hewould. He wouldn't dare stay."

  "I ain't so shore about that. He's no fool, Pete O'Leary ain't. Heknows there ain't no real evidence against him. We only gotsuspicions, that's all. Enough for us, all right, but nothin' likeenough to land him. No, he wouldn't vamoose right now. That'd givehim away. He'll stay an' bluff it through as long as he can. Then,again, if he pulls out he ain't no good to the 88 no more. He's neededup here to let 'em know how things are pannin' out. Say, yuh didn'tlet them ladies suspicion what yuh was after, did yuh?"

  "Of course not. I have a little sense. I made my inquiries quitecasually in the course of conversation. Don't fret, they won't have athing to gossip about."

  "That's good. I might 'a' knowed yuh'd be careful."

  With a start he realized that he was commending her, actuallycommending the girl who had once informed him in withering accents thatshe would never marry an ignorant puncher. Here she was patheticallyanxious to execute his every wish. Apparently she had stoppedflirting, too.

  As she flitted between his room and the kitchen he looked at her out ofamazed eyes. Measuring her by her one-time frivolous and coquettishactions, the new Kate was rather astonishing. Man-like, Loudon beganto suspect some trap. The lady was too good to be true.

  "Bet she's tollin' me on," he told himself. "I'll ask her again, an'then pop'll go the weasel. No, sirree, I know when I'm well off. As afriend, so long as she acts thisaway, she's ace-high, but I'll betafter marriage she'd develop tempers an' things like that Sue Shimmersgirl Scotty told me about. Shore she would. Not a doubt of it.Yessir, single cussedness for Tom Loudon from now on henceforward.I'll gamble an' go the limit, it's got double blessedness backed cleanoff the table."

  Lying in bed was not doing Tom Loudon a bit of good. He was fastbecoming priggishly cynical. Which attitude of mind may have beennatural, but was certainly abominably ungallant.

  Long after the others in the house were asleep Loudon lay awake. Hisbrain was busy fashioning plans for the undoing of the 88 outfit. Itsuddenly struck him that the guileful O'Leary undoubtedly wroteletters. A knowledge of the addresses on those letters was ofparamount importance. It would wonderfully simplify matters.

  The storekeeper, Ragsdale, was the Bend postmaster. Loudon knew thatRagsdale was not given to idle chatter. He resolved to take Ragsdaleinto his confidence.

  In the morning after breakfast, Kate, first making sure that Mrs. Maceand Dorothy were out of earshot, stooped over the bed.

  "Tom," she said, "don't you think I'd better find out whether O'Learywrites any letters and, if he does, to whom he writes them?"

  Loudon stared at her in astonishment.

  "Huh--how did yuh think o' that?" he blurted out.

  "I don't know. It came to me last night. It's a good idea, don't youthink?"

  "Shore, it's a good idea. I was thinkin' the same thing myself. Butdon't yuh bother. I'll find out soon's I'm able to get around."

  "Don't be silly. You'll be on your back ten days at the least.O'Leary may write several in the meantime, and the sooner we know aboutit the better. Now I can find out very easily. Mrs. Ragsdale, theprying soul, reads the addresses on every letter coming in or goingout. None ever escapes her eagle eye. And she's a great gossip. I'veonly seen her half-a-dozen times, but nevertheless she's managed togive me detailed histories of the private lives of most of theinhabitants. She enjoys talking to me because I never interrupt, soyou see how simple it will be."

  "But I don't like to use you thisaway," objected Loudon. "Yuh've doneenough, too much, as it is."

  "Nonsense! It will be great fun turning Mrs. Ragsdale's tattlings intouseful information. Tattle! Why, she even told me how much youapproved of me at the dance. According to her story you came andshouted your opinion into her ear. Did you?"

  "I knowed it!" groaned Loudon. "I knowed she'd tell! I only said----"

  "Never mind getting red. I didn't mind a bit. I hoped you did likeme. I wanted you to."

  Here was thin ice. Loudon, pink about the ears, squirmed inwardly.

  "I--I," he stuttered, then, with a rush, "yo're doin' too much, I tellyuh. I'll see about these letters when I get up."

  "No, you won't. I want to, and I'm going to. It's settled and youneedn't argue. I'll go to the postoffice right away. After dinnerI'll tell you all about it."

  "Wait a minute!" cried Loudon, but Kate was gone.

  Loudon had little time to reflect on feminine wilfulness, for Mrs. Maceinsisted on spending the morning with him. Dorothy helped her spendit. The buzz of their chatter was lulling. Loudon dozed off and slepttill Mrs. Mace awakened him at noon.

  "Nice way to treat two ladies," sniffed Mrs. Mace. "Nice way, I mustsay. Here we come in to entertain yuh while Kate's away and yuh fallasleep, so yuh do. Bet yuh wouldn't have fell asleep if Kate had beenhere. No, I guess not. You'd have been chipper enough--grinnin' andsmilin' all over yore face. But yuh can't even be polite to Dorothyand me."

  "Why, ma'am, I----"

  "Oh, never mind makin' excuses. We understand. It's all right.Say"--Mrs. Mace stooped down and guarded one side of her mouth with herhand--"say, when's the weddin' comin' off?"

  "Weddin'? What weddin'?"

  "Oh, yes, I wonder what weddin'. I do, indeed. Well, of course yuhdon't have to tell if yuh don't want to. I'll ask Kate. Dorothy"--shestraightened and called over her shoulder--"you can bring in Mr.Loudon's dinner. He's decided to stay awake long enough to eat it."

  He ate his dinner alone, but he did not enjoy it. For, in the kitchen,Dorothy and Mrs. Mace with painful thoroughness discussed all theweddings they had ever seen and made divers thinly veiled remarksconcerning a certain marriage that would probably take place in thefall.

  "Say," called Loudon, when he could endure their chatter no longer,"say, would yuh mind closin' that door? I got a headache."

  Silence in the kitchen for a brief space of time. Then, in a smalldemure voice, Mrs. Mace said:

  "What was that? I didn't quite catch it."

  With elaborate politeness Loudon repeated his request.

  "Oh, no," said Mrs. Mace, "the door must be left open. Mis' Burr saidso. A sick-room needs lots of fresh air. I wouldn't dare close thedoor. Mis' Burr wouldn't like it."

  "She'd scalp us if we closed it during the day," observed Dorothy.

  The wretched Loudon could almost see the wink which accompanied thisstatement.

  "But he's got a headache," said Mrs. Mace. "We'd ought to do somethin'for that. Can't allow him to have a headache, Dorothy. You get thetowels an' I'll get some cold water. We'll bathe his head for him.That'll fix him up."

  "It ain't as bad as all that," denied Loudon. "It's goin' awayalready. An' I don't want my head bathed nohow. An' I ain't goin' tohave it bathed, an' that's flat!"

  At this juncture Kate entered the kitchen, announcing that she wasstarved. Dorothy and Mrs. Mace, both talking at once, asserted thatLoudon had a violent headache and would not allow them to alleviate hissuffering; that he had been a most troublesome patient and had keptthem busy attending to his manifold desires.

  "Don't you believe 'em!" cried Loudon. "I ain't done a thing. Theybeen pesterin' me all mornin'. Won't let me sleep or nothin'."

  "There! Listen to him!" exclaimed Mrs. Mace. "We did our level bestto please, an' that's all the thanks
we get. C'mon, Dorothy, let's goover to my house. We ain't wanted now. Yore dinner's in the oven,Kate. He's had his. Hope you'll have better luck managin' him than wedid. I'd sooner wrangle forty hosses than one sick man."

  The slam of the kitchen door put a period to her remarks. Kate enteredLoudon's room, a pucker of concern between her eyebrows.

  "Have you really a headache?" she inquired.

  "Of course I haven't. But they was botherin' me--oh, I dunno, makin'fool remarks an' all like that. Say, did yuh find out anythin'?"

  "Not much of any value, I'm afraid. But you're the better judge ofthat. Pete O'Leary writes to only one person--William Archer ofMarysville. O'Leary writes to him once a week usually, but for thelast month he's written twice a week, and this week he mailed fourletters to Marysville."

  "Archer--Archer," mused Loudon. "I can't think just now of anybody o'that name in Marysville. But that town ain't such a great way from the88 ranch house--not more'n thirty mile at the most. Archer, whoever heis, could easy keep in touch with--with----"

  "Don't boggle so over that man's name. You don't hurt my feelings inthe least by mentioning Sam Blakely. Yes, he could keep in touch withBlakely very easily. I learned, too, that O'Leary receives lettersabout as frequently as he mails them. They are all in the samehandwriting, and they are all postmarked Marysville. One came for himthis morning. Mrs. Ragsdale let me see it, but the handwriting wasstrange to me. If it had been Blakely's I'd have recognized it. I'llkeep in with Mrs. Ragsdale. I'll visit her every time a mail arrives."

  "No, it ain't necessary. It's enough to know he writes to Marysville.First thing to do is see Archer, an' find out some of his habits. He'sthe link between Pete O'Leary an' the 88, that's a cinch."

  "Then I really did learn something of value. I am glad. I was afraidit wouldn't be worth a very great deal, and I do so want to help you."

  "Well, yuh shore have, Kate. Nobody could 'a' helped me any better.But don't do no more. There ain't no reason why you should. It ain'ta woman's job anyhow."

  "Oh, you've said that before. I intend to help you all I can. I'm asinterested as you are in the ultimate crushing of the 88 outfit."

  "Yes, but----"

  "We won't discuss it, please. How does the ankle feel?"

  "It's comin' along fine. I want to get up right now."

  "Day after to-morrow you can get dressed if you like and sit out in thekitchen for a while. Oh, I know how hard it is to lie in bed, but onecan't hurry a sprain. You have a lot of hard work ahead, and you mustbe in shape to go through with it. Listen, how would it be if I wroteto Mr. Richie of the Cross-in-a-box and asked him to find out aboutthis Archer man?"

  "No, I'd rather manage that myself. I'll go to Marysville."

  "You can't! Why, the judge who issued that warrant for you livesthere! You insist on going to Farewell, and that's madness. Butvisiting Marysville would be worse."

  "Oh, no, it wouldn't. Nobody knows me there. I was never in the placein my life. It'll be a lot safer than Farewell."

  "B-but I'm afraid! I know something will happen to you! I know it! Iknow it!"

  "Nothin'll happen," said Loudon, acutely conscious that the situationwas getting out of hand.

  Presently his worst fears were realized. Kate, genuine misery in herdark eyes, stared at him silently. Her hands were gripped together sothat the knuckles showed white. Suddenly she turned side wise, flungan elbow over the back of the chair and buried her face in her hands.She began to cry softly.

  "Oh!" she wailed, her shoulders shaking. "Oh, I love you so! I loveyou so! And you don't care--you don't care a bit!"

  Sobs racked her whole body. She completely lost control of herself andburst into a storm of passionate weeping. To Loudon it seemed thatthis state of affairs endured for an age, but not more than fiveminutes elapsed before Kate swayed to her feet and stumbled from theroom. She did not close the door, and Loudon could hear her muffledgasps as she strove with her distress.

  At that moment it seemed to him that the girl who had called him anignorant puncher was a wraith of the dim and misty past. Certainly thepresent Kate Saltoun was a different person. She no longer flirted,she was plainly sorry for what she had done, and apparently she lovedhim utterly.

  No man can remain unmoved while a beautiful woman weeps for love ofhim. Loudon was moved. He was impelled to call to her, to tell her tocome to him. But he hesitated. He was not at all sure that hisfeeling was any emotion other than pity. He had spent miserable weeksschooling himself to forget his love and her. Now he did not know hisown mind, and he could not decide what to do. While he lay hesitatinghe heard the scraping of a chair being pushed back, the sound of herfeet crossing the floor, and the slam of the kitchen door.

  Half an hour later Mrs. Mace came in like a whirlwind. She halted inthe doorway and surveyed Loudon with unfriendly eyes. She opened hermouth as if to speak, but closed it without uttering a word, flouncedback into the kitchen and shut his door. Almost immediately she openedit.

  "Want anythin'?" she inquired, ungraciously.

  "No, thank yuh just the same," replied the mystified Loudon.

  Mrs. Mace closed the door without comment. It was not opened againtill Dorothy brought in his supper. She inquired politely after hishealth, but he could see that she was displeased with him.

  "What's the matter with everybody?" he asked. "What makes Mis' Macelook at me like I was poison, an' what makes you look as if yuh had apain?"

  "You ought to be ashamed of yourself," said Dorothy, severely, andmarched out, her back stiff as a rifle-barrel.

  "I've done somethin' desperate, whatever it is," he said, addressingthe closed door. "I shore have. I might 'a' come to like that Dorothygirl real well--sometime maybe. But I never will now, an' that's nomerry jest."

  Gloomily he ate his supper. When Dorothy entered to take away thedishes he demanded to know why he should be ashamed of himself.

  "Because you should!" she snapped. "I'm not going to bandy words withyou! Just wait till mother comes home--just you wait!"

  After which ominous utterance she departed. Loudon scratched his headand thought long and deeply.

  "Now I'd like to know what I've done," he mused. "Mis' Mace don't likeme a little bit, an' that Dorothy girl talks an' acts like I'd poisoneda well or scalped a dozen babies. It's one too many for me. But I'llknow about it when Mis' Burr gets home, will I? That's fine, that is.I'll bet she'll explain till the cows come home. Why didn't I go tothat hotel? I will as soon's I'm able. This house ain't no place fora peace-lovin' man."

  He was rather relieved that Kate no longer came near him. It savedtrouble. He did not quite know what he would say to Kate at their nextmeeting. What could he say? What, indeed? He pondered the questiontill he fell asleep, having arrived at no conclusion.

  Next morning Jim Mace came to see him. Loudon besought Jim to help himmove to the hotel.

  "What's the matter?" said the surprised Jim. "Don't my wife an'Dorothy treat yuh right?"

  "Shore they do, but I don't want to bother 'em no more. I'll be betteroff where I can cuss when I feel like it."

  "Mis' Burr won't like it none, yore goin' off thisaway."

  "I can't help that--I want to go."

  "An' my wife won't like it, neither. Lordy, Tom, yuh don't know mywife. She'd hit the ceilin' if I was to tote yuh down to the hotel."

  "Say," exclaimed Loudon, "can't a married man do nothin' without askin'his wife?"

  "Not if he knows what's healthy," replied Jim Mace, warmly. "I tellyuh, Tom, yuh'll jump through a hoop if yore wife says so. Oh, yuh canlaugh all yo're a mind to. Wait till yo're married, an' yuh'll seewhat I mean."

  "I'll wait, yuh can gamble on that. Will yuh help me or do I have towalk there on my hands?"

  "I won't help yuh a step. Yuh don't know what yo're askin', Tom.Honest, I'm sorry, but I wouldn't dare help yuh without Lil said Icould. Fix it up with her an' I will."

/>   When Jim had gone Loudon swore soulfully, and thought with amazement ofthe manner in which Jim was under his wife's thumb. If that was theeffect of marriage upon a man he wanted none of it. He had no desireto be tied to any one's apron-strings. He wished to be able to callhis soul his own. Marriage--bah!

  "I want my clothes," he announced to Mrs. Mace at noon.

  "Oh, yuh do, do yuh?" cried the lady. "Well, yuh can just want, so yuhcan! Yuh won't get 'em, an' that's flat! An' Jim Mace nor nobody elseain't goin' to help yuh down to that hotel. Yo're a-goin' to stickright here. Jim told me yuh wanted to go, an' what I told him wasa-plenty. Here yuh stay till yuh go back to the ranch."

  "But I want to get up. I'm gettin' plumb weary o' stayin' in bed."

  "It won't hurt yuh a bit. You'll have lots o' time to think over yoresins."

  "I'll get up anyhow."

  "You just try it! I'd shore admire to see yuh try it! You ain't goin'to play any fool tricks with that ankle if I have to get Jim an' a fewo' the boys to hogtie yuh. Tell yuh what I will do. To-morrow, ifyou'll give me yore word not to leave the house till Mis' Burr or I sayyou can, I'll give yuh yore clothes an' you can sit in the kitchen."

  "I suppose I'll have to," grumbled Loudon.

  "You shore will if yuh want to get up," stated the uncompromising lady.

  "All right. I give yuh my word. Lemme get up now. The ankle feelsfine."

  "To-morrow, to-morrow--not one second sooner."