CHAPTER XXXI
_In the Pines_
Alice Weston pleaded headache next morning. She did not get up untilnoon. Meanwhile Dorothy came, bringing hot coffee and toast.
"Does it really hurt?" queried Dorothy. "Or is it one of those headachesthat is always going to hurt, but never does?"
Alice smiled and sipped her coffee. "Oh, it's not bad. I want to rest.Perhaps it's the altitude."
"Perhaps," said Dorothy. "I'm sorry, Alice."
They chatted awhile. Suddenly Alice thought of the letters Lorry hadgiven her. She had carried them to her room, and had forgotten them.
"Mr. Adams left some mail with me last night. I happened to be outsidewhen he rode past."
"Why, I thought he had gone!"
"He said he had to go to Jason for something or other. He left earlythis morning, I think."
Dorothy glanced at the mail. "All for daddy--except this circular. H'm!'Intelligent clothing for Intelligent People.' Isn't that awful? How inthe world do such firms get one's address when one lives 'way up herein the sky. Do you ever get advertisements like this?"
"Oh, yes; heaps of them."
"Well, _your_ gowns are beautiful," sighed Dorothy.
"You are a darling," said Alice, caressing Dorothy's cheek.
"So are you, dear." And Dorothy kissed her. "And you coaxed Lorry tocome to dinner, after all! I don't know what made him so grumpy, though.I would have been sorry if he hadn't come to dinner, even if he wasgrumpy."
"Do you like him?" queried Alice.
"Of course; he has been so nice to us. Don't you?"
Alice's lips trembled. Suddenly she hid her face in her hands and burstinto tears.
"Why, Alice, what _is_ the matter?"
"Nothing," she sobbed. "I'm just tired--of everything."
"It must be the altitude," said Dorothy gravely. "Father says it doesmake some persons nervous. Just rest, Allie, and I'll come in again."
Without telling her father anything further than that she was going fora ride, Dorothy saddled Chinook.
Dorothy was exceedingly trustful, but she was not at all stupid. Shethought she understood Alice's headache. And while Dorothy did not dreamthat her friend cared anything for Lorry, she was not so sure thatLorry did not care for Alice. Perhaps he had said something to her.Perhaps they had become rather well acquainted in Stacey last summer.
Dorothy rode toward the Big Spring. She had no definite object in viewother than to be alone. She was hurt by Lorry's incomprehensible mannerof leaving. What had she done to cause him to act so strangely? And whyhad he refused her invitation and accepted it again through Alice? "ButI'll never, never let him know that I care about that," she thought."And when he comes back everything will be all right again."
Just before she reached the Big Spring her pony nickered. She imaginedshe could see a horse standing back of the trees round the spring. Someranger returning to Jason or some cattle outfit from the south wascamped at the spring. But when Chinook nickered again and the other ponyanswered, she knew at once that Lorry was there. Why had he stopped atthe spring? He had started early enough to have made a camp farther on.
Lorry saw her coming, and busied himself adjusting one of the packs. Asshe rode up he turned and took off his hat. His face was flushed. Hiseyes did not meet hers as she greeted him.
"I didn't look for you to ride up here," he said lamely.
"And I didn't expect to find you here," she said as she dismounted. Shewalked straight to him. "Lorry, what is the matter? You're not like myranger man at all! Are you in trouble?"
Her question, so frank and sincere, and the deep solicitude in hertroubled eyes hurt him, and yet he was glad to feel that hot pain in histhroat. He knew now that he cared for her more than for any livingbeing; beyond all thought of passion or of selfishness. She looked andseemed like a beautiful boy, with all the frankness of true comradeshipin her attitude and manner. And she was troubled because of him--and notfor herself. Lorry thought of the other girl. He had taken his pay. Hislips burned dry as he recalled that moment when he had held her in hisarms.
Dorothy saw the dull pain in his eyes, a sort of dumb pleading forforgiveness for something he had done; she could not imagine what. Hedropped to his knee, and taking her slender hand in his kissed herfingers.
"Don't be silly," she said, yet her free hand caressed his hair. "Whatis it, ranger man?"
"I been a regular dam' fool, Dorothy."
"But, Lorry! You know--if there is anything, anything in the world thatI can do--Please, _please_ don't cry. If you were to do that I think Ishould die. I couldn't stand it. You make me afraid. What is it? Surelyit is not--Alice?"
He crushed her fingers. Suddenly he stood up and stepped back. Thesunlight shone on his bared head. He looked very boyish as he shruggedhis shoulders as though to free himself from an invisible hand thatoppressed and irritated him. His sense of fair play in so far as AliceWeston was concerned would not allow him to actually regret that affair.To him that had been a sort of conquest. But shame and repentance forhaving been disloyal to Dorothy were stamped so clearly upon hisfeatures that she understood. She knew what he was about to say, andchecked him.
"Don't tell me," she said gently. "You have told me. I know Alice isattractive; she can't help that. If you care for her--"
"Care for her! She was playin' with me. When I found out that--"
Dorothy caught her breath. Her eyes grew big. She had not thought thatAlice Weston--But then that did not matter now. Lorry was so abjectlysorry about something or other. He felt her hand on his sleeve. She wassmiling. "You're just a great big, silly boy, ranger man. I'm reallyyears older than you. Please don't tell me anything. I don't want toknow. I just want you to be happy."
"Happy? And you say that!"
"Of course!"
"Well, mebby I could be happy if you was to set to and walk all overme."
"Oh, but that wouldn't do any good. Tell me why you stopped here at thespring. You didn't expect to meet any one, did you?"
"I--stopped here--because we camped here that time."
"Well, Lorry, it's really foolish of you to feel so badly when there'snothing the matter. If you wanted to kiss Alice and she let you--why,that isn't wrong. A boy kissed me once when I was going to school in theEast. I just boxed his ears and laughed at him. It is only when you actgrumpy or feel badly that I worry about you. I just want to be yourlittle mother then--and try to help you."
"You make me feel like I wasn't fit to ever touch your hand again," hetold her.
"But you mustn't feel that way," she said cheerily. "I want you to bebrave and strong and happy; just as you were that day we camped here.And you will, won't you?"
"Yes, ma'am. I'm takin' orders from you."
"But you mustn't wait for me to tell you. Just be yourself, and then Iknow you will never be ashamed of anything you do. I must go now.Good-bye, Lorry."
She gave her hand, and he drew her to him. But she turned her face awayas he bent his head above her.
"No; not now, Lorry. I--can't. Please don't."
"I--guess you're right. I reckon you showed me just where I stand. Yes,you're plumb right about it, Dorothy. But I'm comin' back--"
"I'll wait for you," she said softly.
He turned briskly to the ponies. The pack-horses plodded up the trail ashe mounted Gray Leg and rode over to her.
She reached up and patted Gray Leg's nose. "Good-bye, everybody!" shechirruped. And she kissed Gray Leg's nose.
Back in the ranges, far from the Big Spring, Lorry made his camp thatnight. As he hobbled the horses he talked to them affectionately afterhis manner when alone with them.
"And you, you old trail-hitter," he said to Gray Leg, "I reckon youthink you're some ladies' man, don't you? Well, you got a right to beproud. Step along there, and 'tend to your grazin' and don't go torubbin' noses with the other horses. You're a fool if you do."