CHAPTER VI
ADVOCATE EXTRAORDINARY
Louise Lacharme, more beautiful than roses, strolled across thevine-shadowed porch of the big ranch-house and sat on the porch railopposite her uncle. His clear blue eyes twinkled approval as he gazed ather.
Walter Stone was fifty, but the fifty of the hard-riding optimist of thegreat outdoors. The smooth tan of his cheeks contrasted oddly with thesilver of his close-cropped hair. He appeared as a young man prematurelygray.
"How is Boyar?" he asked, smiling a little as Louise, sitting sidewayson the porch-rail, swung her foot back and forth quickly.
"Oh, Boy is all right. The tramp turned him loose in the valley. Boycame home."
"It was a clever bit of riding, to get the best of Tenlow on his ownrange. Was Dick very badly hurt?" queried Walter Stone.
"Yes, his collar-bone was broken and he was crushed and terriblybruised. His horse was killed. When I was down, day before yesterday,the doctor said Dick would be all right in time."
"How about this boy, the tramp boy they arrested?"
"Oh," said Louise, "that was a shame! He stayed and helped the doctorput Dick in the buggy and rode with him to town. Mr. Tenlow wasunconscious, and the boy had to go to hold him. Then the boy explainedit all at the store, and they arrested him anyway, as a suspiciouscharacter. I should have let him go. When Mr. Tenlow became consciousand they told him they had the boy, he said to keep him in thecalaboose; that that was where he belonged."
"And you want me to see what I can do for this boy?"
"I didn't say so." And Louise tilted her chin.
"Now, sweetheart, don't quibble. It isn't like you."
The gray silk-clad ankle flashed back and forth. "Really, Uncle Walter,you could have done something for the boy without making me say that Iwanted you to. You're always doing something nice--helping people thatare in trouble. You don't usually have to be asked."
"Perhaps I like to be asked--by--Louise."
"You're just flattering me, I know! But uncle, if you had seen the boyjump in front of Mr. Tenlow's horse when Dick shot at the tramp,--andafterwards when the boy helped me with Dick and stuck right to him clearto his house,--why, you couldn't help but admire him. Then theyarrested him--for what? It's a shame! I told him to run when I saw thedoctor's buggy coming."
"Yes, Louise; the boy may be brave and likable enough, but how are we toknow what he really is? I don't like to take the risk. I don't like tomeddle in such affairs."
"Uncle Walter! Risk! And the risks you used to take when you were ayoung man. Oh, Aunty Eleanor has told me all about your riding bronchosand the Panamint--and lots of things. I won't tell you all, for you'd beflattered to pieces, and I want you in one whole lump to-day."
"Only for to-day, Louise?"
"Oh, maybe for to-morrow, and to-morrow and to-morrow. But, uncle, onlylast week you said at breakfast that the present system of arrest andimprisonment was all wrong. That was because they arrested that editorwho was a friend of yours. But now, when you have a chance to prove thatyou were in earnest, you don't seem a bit interested."
"Did I really say all that, sweetness?"
"Now _you_ are quibbling. And does 'sweetness,' mean me, or what yousaid at breakfast? Because you said 'the whole damn system'; and therewere two ladies at the table. Of course, that was before breakfast.After breakfast you picked a rose for aunty, and kissed me."
Walter Stone laughed heartily. "But I do take a great deal of interestin anything that interests you."
Louise slipped lithely from the porch-rail and swung up on the broad armof his chair, snuggling against him impetuously. "I know you do, uncle.I just love you! I'll stop teasing."
"I surrender. I'm a pretty fair soldier at long range, but this"--andhis arm went round her affectionately--"this is utter defeat. I strikemy colors. Then, you always give in so gracefully."
"To you, perhaps, Uncle Walter. But I haven't given in this time. I'mjust as interested as ever."
"And you think they are the men we saw out on the Mojave by thewater-tank?"
"Oh, I know it! They remembered the rose. They spoke of it right away,before I did."
"Yes, Louise. And you remember, too, that they were arrested atBarstow--for murder, the conductor said?"
"That's just it! The boy Collie says the tramp Overland Red didn't killthe man. He was trying to save him and gave him water. If you could onlyhear what the boy says about it--"
"I don't suppose it would do any harm," said the rancher. "I dislike touse my influence. You know, I practically control Dick Tenlow's place atthe elections."
"That's just why he should be willing to let the boy go," said Louisequickly.
"No, sweetheart. That's just why I shouldn't ask Dick to do anything ofthe kind. But I see I'm in for it. You have already interested your AuntEleanor. She spoke to me about the boy last night."
"Aunty Eleanor is a dear. I didn't really ask her to speak to you."
"No," he said, laughing. "Of course not. You're too clever for that. Yousimply sow your poppy-seed and leave it alone. The poppies come up fastenough."
Louise laughed softly. "You're pretending to criticize and you're reallyflattering,--deliberately,--aren't you, Uncle Walter?"
"Flattering? And you?"
"Because Aunt Eleanor said you could be simply irresistible when youwanted to be. I think so, too. Especially when you are on a horse."
"Naturally. I always did feel more confident in the saddle. I could, ifneed arose, ride away like the chap in Bobby Burns's verse, youremember--
"He gave his bridle-rein a shake, And turned him on the shore, With, 'Farewell, forever more, my dear, Farewell, forever more.'"
"But you didn't, uncle. Aunty said she used to be almost afraid thatyou'd ride away with her, like Lochinvar."
"Yes." And Walter Stone sighed deeply.
"Oh, Uncle Walter! That sounded full of regrets and things."
"It was. It is. I'm fifty."
"It isn't fifty. It's a lack of exercise. And you wouldn't be half sofine-looking if you were fat. I _always_ sigh when I don't know what todo. Then I just saddle Boy and ride. And I'll _never_ let myself getfat."
"A vow is a vow--at sixteen."
"Now I _know_ you need exercise. You're getting reminiscent, and that'sa sign of torpid liver."
Walter Stone laughed till the tears came. "Exercise!" he exclaimed. "Ah!I begin to divine a subtle method in your doctrine of health. Ah, ha! Ilook well on a horse! I need exercise! It's a very satisfactory ridefrom here to town and back. Incidentally, Louise, I smell a rat. I usedto be able to hold my own."
"It isn't my fault if you don't now," said Louise, snuggling in hisarm.
"That's unworthy of you!" he growled, his arm tightening round her slimyoung figure. "Tell me, sweetheart; how is it that you can be sothoroughly practical and so unfathomably romantic in the same breath?You have deliberately shattered me to bits that you might mould menearer to your heart's desire. And your heart's desire, just now, is tohelp an unknown, a tramp, out of jail."
Louise pouted. "You say 'just now' as though my heart's desires weren'tvery serious matters as a rule. You _know_ you wouldn't be half so happyif I didn't tease you for something at least once a week. I rememberonce I didn't ask you for anything for a whole week, and you went andasked Aunty Eleanor if I were ill. Besides, the boy _needs_ help,whether he did anything wrong or not. Can't you understand?"
"That's utopian, Louise, but it isn't generally practicable."
"Then make it individually practicable, uncle--just this time. Pshaw! Idon't believe you're half-trying to argue. Why, when Boyar bucked youoff that time and ran into the barb-wire, then _he_ didn't needdoctoring for that awful cut on his shoulder, because he had donewrong."
"That is no parallel, Louise. Boyar didn't know any better. And this boyis not sick or injured."
"How do you know that? He's down in that terribly hot, smelly jail. Ifhe did get sick, who would know it?"
"An
d Boyar isn't a human being. He can't reason."
"Oh, Uncle Walter! I thought you knew horses better than that. Boyar canreason much better than most people."
"The proof being that he prefers you to any one else?"
"No," replied Louise, smiling mischievously. "That isn't Boyar's_reason_; it's his affection. That's different."
"Yes, quite different," said Walter Stone. "Is this boy good-looking?"And the rancher fumbled in his pocket for a cigar.
Louise slipped from the arm of his chair and stood opposite him, herlips pouted teasingly, the young face glowing with mischief and fun. "AmI?" she asked, curtsying and twinkling. "'Cause if you're going to ridedown to the valley to see the boy just because Beautiful asked you,Beautiful will go alone. But if you come because _I_ want you,"--andLouise smiled bewitchingly,--"why, Beautiful will come too, and sing foryou--perhaps."
"My heart, my service, and my future are at your feet, Senorita Louisa,my mouse. Are your eyes gray or green this morning?"
"Both," replied Louise quickly. "Green for spunk and gray for love.That's what Aunty Eleanor says."
"Come a little nearer. Let me see. No, they are quite gray now."
"'Cause why?" she cooed, and stooping, kissed him with warm, carelessaffection. "You always ask me about my eyes when you want me to kissyou. Of course, when you want to kiss _me_, why, you just come and take'em."
"My esteemed privilege, sweetheart. I am your caballero."
"Did Aunty Eleanor?" said Louise.
But Walter Stone rose and straightened his shoulders. "That will do,mouse. I can't have any jealousy between my sweethearts."
"Never! And, Uncle Walter, do you want to ride Major or Rally? Rally andBoyar get along better together. I'll saddle Boy in a jiffy."
* * * * *
To ride some ten miles in the blazing sun of midsummer requires a kindof anticipatory fortitude, at fifty, especially when one's own vine andfig tree is cool and fragrant, embowered in blue flowers and graced by,let us say, Louise. And a cigar is always at its best when half-smoked.But when Louise came blithely leading the two saddle-ponies, Black Boyarand the big pinto Rally, Walter Stone shook an odd twenty years fromhis broad shoulders and swung into the saddle briskly.
From the shade of the great sycamore warders of the wide gate, he waveda gauntleted salute to Aunt Eleanor, who stood on the porch, drawing aleaf of the graceful moon-vine through her slender fingers. She nodded asmiling farewell.
Louise and her uncle rode as two lovers, their ponies close together.The girl swayed to Boyar's quick, swinging walk. Walter Stone sat thestrong, tireless Rally with solid ease.
The girl, laughing happily at her triumph, leaned toward her escortteasingly, singing fragments of old Spanish love-songs, or talking witheager lips and sparkling eyes. Of a sudden she would assume ademureness, utterly bewitching in its veiled and perfect mimicry. Quiteseriously he would set about to overcome this delightful mood of herswith extravagant vows of lifelong love and servitude, as though he werein truth her chosen caballero and she his Senorita of the Rose.
And as they played at love-making, hidden graces of the girl's sweetnature unfolded to him, and deep in his heart he wondered, and foundlife good, and Youth still unspoiled by the years, and Louise averitable enchantress of infinite moods, each one adorable.Golden-haired, gray-eyed, quick with sympathy, sweetly subtle and subtlysweet was Louise.... And one must worship Youth and Beauty and Love,even with their passing bitter on one's lips.
But to Walter Stone no such bitterness had come, this soldierly, wisecaballero escorting his adorable senorita on an errand of mercy. His wasthe heart of Youth, eternal and undaunted Youth. And Beauty was hers, ofthe spirit as well as of the flesh. And Love....
"Why, Louise! There are tears on your lashes, my colleen!"
"But I am singing, uncle." And she smiled through her tears.
"Sweetheart?"
"Yes, Uncle Walter?"
"What is it? Tell me."
"I wish I could. I don't know. I think I'm getting to be grown up--justlike a woman. It--it makes me--think of lots of things. Let's ride." Andher silver spurs flashed.
Boyar, taken quite by surprise, grunted as he leaped down the MoonstoneTrail. He resented this undeserved punishment by plunging sidewaysacross the road. Again came the flash of the silver spurs, and WalterStone heard Louise disciplining the pony.
"Just a woman. Just like a woman," murmured the rancher. "Now, Boyar,and some others of us, will never quite understand what that means." Andwith rein and voice he lifted the pinto Rally to a lope.