Laramie Holds the Range

  CHAPTER XXXVIII

  THE UNEXPECTED CALL

  The hush that followed the brain storm in the kitchen put Belle, quiteunsuspecting, to sleep. Laramie, with a tread creditable to a cat--anda stealth natural to most carnivorous animals--closed the door withoutbreaking her heavy breathing. The shades, always drawn at nightfall,called for no attention. In the living-room, there was preliminarytiptoeing, and there were futile efforts on Kate's part to cool herrebellious cheeks by applying her open hands to them--when she couldget possession of either one to do so. The small couch which served assofa was drawn out of range of even the protected windows, and thefloodgates were opened to the first unrestrained confidences together.

  When they could talk of more serious things, Kate could not possiblysee how she could marry him; but this, in the circumstances, seemed tocause Laramie no alarm. She admitted she had tried not to like him andconfessed how she had failed. "Every time I met you," she murmured,"you seemed to understand me so well--you knew how a woman would liketo be treated--that's what I kept thinking about."

  "You used to talk and laugh with Van Horn," he complained, jealously."When I came around, I couldn't drag a smile out of you with a lariat."

  "You're getting a smile now that he isn't getting, aren't you?"

  "Somehow you never acted natural with me."

  "Jim!" It was the word he most wanted to hear, even if the reproachimplied the quintessence of stupidity. "Don't you understand, I wasn'tafraid of him, and I was of you!"

  "And I only trying to get a chance to eat out of your hand!"

  "How could I tell--after all I used to hear--but that you'd begin byeating out of my hand and finish by eating me?"

  He had to be told every word of her troubles at home, but heruneasiness turned to the dangers threatening him. These, sheprotested, he belittled too much. Ever since he had come in woundedshe had been the prey of fears for him. "It's a mystery how youescaped." He had to tell every detail of his flight down the canyon."By rights," he said in conclusion, "they ought to have got me. No manshould have got out of that scrape as well as I did. Van Horn didn'tget into action quick enough. And it seemed to me as if Stone himselfwas a little slow." The way he spoke the things strengthened herconfidence. And his arm held her so close!

  "I'll tell you, Kate," he added. "You can easy enough hire a fellow tokill a man. But you can't really hire one to hate a man. And if hedoesn't really hate him, he won't be as keen on your job as you'd beyourself. These hired men will booze once in awhile--or go to sleep,maybe. It's work for a clear head and takes patience to hide in therocks day after day and wait for one certain man to ride by so you canshoot him. If you doze off, your man may pass while you snore. Andthe kind of man you can hire isn't as keen on getting a man as the manhimself is on not getting 'got'--that's where the chance is, sometimes,to pull out better than even."

  Because his aim was to reassure, to relieve her anxiety, he did nottell her that all the unfavorable conditions he had named, while neverbefore arrayed against him at one time, were now pretty much allpresent together. Kate herself, he knew, stood more than ever betweenhim and Van Horn. Stone had been twice publicly disgraced by Laramieat Tenison's--he would never forgive that. He had the patience of theassassin and when hatred swayed him he did not sleep--these were still,Laramie knew in his heart, bridges to be crossed.

  But why spoil an hour's happiness with the thought of them now?Laramie drew his hand across his heated forehead as if to clear hiseyes and look again down into the face close to his and assure himselfhe was not really dreaming. "What do I care about them all, Kate," hewould say, "now that I've got you? No, now that you've given yourselfto me--that's what I'll say--what do I care what they do?"

  But she would look up, sudden with apprehension: "But don't you think_I_ care? Jim, let's leave this country soon, soon."

  Laramie laughed indulgently: "Somebody'll have to leave it prettysoon--that's certain."

  A rude knock at the door broke into his words. Kate threw her handsagainst his breast. She stared at him thunderstruck, and sprang fromthe sofa like a deer, looking still at him with wide-open eyes and thenglancing apprehensively toward the door.

  Laramie sat laughing silently at her get-away as he called it, yet hewas not undisturbed.

  Nothing, in the circumstances, could have been less welcome than anysort of an intrusion. But a knock at the door, almost violent, andcoming three times, stirred even Laramie's temper.

  The door was not locked. Laramie rose, his fingers resting on the buttof his revolver, and stepping lightly into the dining-room, turned downthe lamp. He stood in the shadow and beckoned Kate to him. His faceindicated no alarm.

  "This may be something, or it may be nothing. You step into thekitchen. I'll go to the door."

  She clung to him, really terror-stricken, begging him not to go. As hetried to quiet her fears the heavy knock shook the flimsy door thesecond time. Kate, declaring she would go, would not be denied.Laramie told her exactly what to do.

  She reached the door on tiptoe and stood to the right of it. The keywas in the lock. Kate, reaching out one hand, turned the key. Withthe door thus locked and standing close against the wall she called outto know who was there. Laramie had followed behind her. He stepped towhere he could look from behind the window shade out on the porch. Heturned to Kate just as an answer came from outside, and signed to herto open. Standing where she was, Kate turned the key swiftly back inthe lock and threw the door wide open.

  Stooping slightly forward to bring his hat under the opening, andlooking carefully about him, her father walked heavily into the room.

  Laramie had disappeared. Kate, dumb, stood still. Barb closed thedoor behind him, walked to the table, put down his hat and turned toKate. "Well?" he began, snapping the word in his usual manner, hisstupefied daughter struggling with her astonishment. "You don't actterrible glad to see me."

  Kate caught her breath. "I was so surprised," she stammered.

  "What are you staying in town so long for?" demanded Barb. His voicehad lost nothing of its husky heaviness.

  She answered with a question: "Where else have I to stay, father? I'vebeen waiting for money to get East with and it hasn't come yet."

  "What do you want to go East for?"

  "I've nowhere else to go."

  "Why don't you come home?"

  "Because you told me to leave."

  He sat slowly down on a chair near the table and with the care of aburdened man.

  "Well," he said, "you mustn't take things too quick from me nowadays."She made no answer. "I've had a good deal of money trouble lately," hewent on, "everything going against me." He spoke moodily and his hugeframe lost in the bulk of his big storm coat overran almostpathetically the slender chair in which he tried to sit. His spiritseemed broken. "I reckon," he added, taking his hat from the table andfingering it slowly, "you'd better come along back."

  She was sorry for him. She told him how much she wished he would giveup trying to carry his big load, and she urged him to take a smallranch and keep out of debt. He laid his hat down again. He told herhe didn't see how he could let it go, but they would talk it over whenshe got home.

  This was the point of his errand that she dreaded to meet and puttingit as inoffensively as possible she tried to parry: "I think," sheventured, "now that I've got some clothes ready and got started, I'dbetter go East for awhile anyway."

  "No." His ponderous teeth clicked. "You'd better wait till fall. Imight go along. Tonight I'll take you out home. Put on your thingsand we'll get started."

  She did not want to refuse. She knew she could not consent. She knewthat Laramie in the shadow, as well as her father in the light, waswaiting for her answer: "Father," she said at once, "I can't gotonight."

  "Why not?" was the husky demand.

  "Belle is sick in bed," pleaded Kate.

  "Is that the only reason?"

  She saw he was bound to wrin
g more from her. "No," she answered, "itisn't, father."

  "What else?"

  "I'm afraid----" she hesitated, and then spoke out: "I can't comeback--not just as I was, anyway."

  "Why not?"

  "It's too late, father."

  "What do you mean?" he asked.

  "When I come back from the East," she spoke slowly but collectedly, "Iexpect to go into a new home."

  "Where?"

  "In the Falling Wall."

  For a moment he did not speak, only looked at her fixedly: "What I'veheard's so, then?" he said, after a pause.

  "What have you heard?"

  "The story is you're going to marry Jim Laramie."

  Kate, in turn, stood silently regarding her father, and as if she knewshe must face it out.

  "Is that so?" he demanded harshly.

  She burst into tears, but through her tears the two men heard heranswer: "Yes, father."

  Barb picked up his hat without wincing: "I guess that ends things'tween you and me." He started uncertainly for the door.

  "Father!" Kate protested, taking a quick step after him as he passedout. "You don't do him justice. You don't know him."

  But slamming the door shut behind him, he cut off her words. If theyreached his ears he gave them no heed.