Whispering Smith
CHAPTER XV
THE SHOT IN THE PASS
Dicksie walked hurriedly through the dining-room and out upon the rearporch. Her horse was standing where she had left him. Her heart beatfuriously as she caught up the reins, but she sprang into the saddleand rode rapidly away. The flood of her temper had brought a disregardof consequence: it was in the glow of her eyes, the lines of her lips,and the tremor of her nostrils as she breathed long and deeply on herflying horse.
When she checked Jim she had ridden miles, but not without a coursenor without a purpose. Where the roads ahead of her parted to leaddown the river and over the Elbow Pass to Medicine Bend, she haltedwithin a clump of trees almost where she had first seen McCloud.Beyond the Mission Mountains the sun was setting in a fire like thatwhich glowed under her eyes. She could have counted her heart-beats asthe crimson ball sank below the verge of the horizon and the shadowsthrew up the silver thread of the big river and deepened across theheavy green of the alfalfa fields. Where Dicksie sat, struggling withher bounding pulse and holding Jim tightly in, no one from the ranchor, indeed, from the up-country could pass her unseen. She was waitingfor a horseman, and the sun had set but a few minutes when she heard asharp gallop coming down the upper road from the hills.
All her brave plans, terror-stricken at the sound of the hoof-beats,fled from her utterly. She was stunned by the suddenness of thecrisis. She had meant to stop McCloud and speak to him, but before shecould summon her courage a tall, slender man on horseback dashed pastwithin a few feet of her. She could almost have touched him as he flewby, and a horse less steady than Jim would have shied under her.Dicksie caught her breath. She did not know this man--she had seenonly his eyes, oddly bright in the twilight as he passed--but he wasnot of the ranch. He must have come from the hill road, she concluded,down which she herself had just ridden. He was somewhere from theNorth, for he sat his horse like a statue and rode like the wind.
But the encounter nerved her to her resolve. Some leaden momentspassed, and McCloud, galloping at a far milder pace toward the fork ofthe roads, checked his speed as he approached. He saw a woman onhorseback waiting in his path.
"Mr. McCloud!"
"Miss Dunning!"
"I could not forgive myself if I waited too long to warn you thatthreats have been made against your life. Not of the kind you heardto-day. My cousin is not a murderer, and never could be, I am sure, inspite of his talk; but I was frightened at the thought that ifanything dreadful should happen his name would be brought into it.There are enemies of yours in this country to be feared, and it isagainst these that I warn you. Good-night!"
"Surely you won't ride away without giving me a chance to thank you!"exclaimed McCloud. Dicksie checked her horse. "I owe you a double debtof gratitude," he added, "and I am anxious to assure you that wedesire nothing that will injure your interests in any way in crossingyour lands."
"I know nothing about those matters, because my cousin manageseverything. It is growing late and you have a good way to go, sogood-night."
"But you will allow me to ride back to the house with you?"
"Oh, no, indeed, thank you!"
"It will soon be dark and you are alone."
"No, no! I am quite safe and I have only a short ride. It is you whohave far to go," and she spoke again to Jim, who started briskly.
"Miss Dunning, won't you listen just a moment? Please don't run away!"McCloud was trying to come up with her. "Won't you hear me a moment? Ihave suffered some little humiliation to-day; I should really ratherbe shot up than have more put on me. I am a man and you are a woman,and it is already dark. Isn't it for me to see you safely to thehouse? Won't you at least pretend I can act as an escort and let me gowith you? I should make a poor figure trying to catch you onhorseback----"
Dicksie nodded naively. "With that horse."
"With any horse--I know that," said McCloud, keeping at her side.
"But I _can't_ let you ride back with me," declared Dicksie, urgingJim and looking directly at McCloud for the first time. "How could Iexplain?"
"Let me explain. I am famous for explaining," urged McCloud, spurringtoo.
"And will you tell me what _I_ should be doing while you wereexplaining?" she asked.
"Perhaps getting ready a first aid for the injured."
"I feel as if I ought to run away," declared Dicksie, since she hadclearly decided not to. "It will have to be a compromise, I suppose.You must not ride farther than the first gate, and let us take thistrail instead of the road. Now make your horse go as fast as you canand I'll keep up."
But McCloud's horse, though not a wonder, went too fast to suit hisrider, who divided his efforts between checking him and keeping up theconversation. When McCloud dismounted to open Dicksie's gate, andstood in the twilight with his hat in his hand and his bridle over hisarm, he was telling a story about Marion Sinclair, and Dicksie in thesaddle, tapping her knee with her bridle-rein, was looking down andpast him as if the light upon his face were too bright. Before shewould start away she made him remount, and he said good-by only afterhalf a promise from her that she would show him sometime a trail tothe top of Bridger's Peak, with a view of the Peace River on the eastand the whole Mission Range and the park country on the north. Thenshe rode away at an amazing run, nodding back as he sat still holdinghis hat above his head.
McCloud galloped toward the pass with one determination--that he wouldhave a horse, and a good one, one that could travel with Jim, if itcost him his salary. He exulted as he rode, for the day had broughthim everything he wished, and humiliation had been swallowed up intriumph. It was nearly dark when he reached the crest between thehills. At this point the southern grade of the pass winds sharply,whence its name, the Elbow; but from the head of the pass the grademay be commanded at intervals for half a mile. Trotting down this roadwith his head in a whirl of excitement, McCloud heard the crack of arifle; at the same instant he felt a sharp slap at his hat. Instinctworks on all brave men very much alike. McCloud dropped forward in hissaddle, and, seeking no explanation, laid his head low and spurredBill Dancing's horse for life or death. The horse, quite amazed,bolted and swerved down the grade like a snipe, with his ridercrouching close for a second shot. But no second shot came, and afteranother mile McCloud ventured to take off his hat and put his fingerthrough the holes in it, though he did not stop his horse to make theexamination. When they reached the open country the horse had settledinto a fast, long stride that not only redeemed his reputation butrelieved his rider's nerves.
When McCloud entered his office it was half-past nine o'clock, and thefirst thing he did before turning on the lights was to draw thewindow-shades. He examined the hat again, with sensations that werenew to him--fear, resentment, and a hearty hatred of his enemies. Butall the while the picture of Dicksie remained. He thought of hernodding to him as they parted in the saddle, and her picture blottedout all that had followed.