The Furnace of Gold

  CHAPTER XIX

  VAN AND BETH AND BOSTWICK

  Van was far too occupied to retain for long the anger that Culver hadaroused in all his being. Moreover, he had come to camp in a mood ofjoyousness, youth, and bounding emotions such as nothing couldsubmerge. The incident with Culver was closed. As for land-officedata, it was far from being indispensable, and Gettysburg's knife wasforgotten.

  He had fetched down a nugget from the "Laughing Water" claim, a brightlump of virgin gold, rudely fashioned by nature like a heart. This hetook at once to a jeweler's shop, where more fine diamonds were beingsold than in all the rest of the State, and while it was being solderedto a pin he returned to the hay-yard for Dave. His business was topurchase the mare on which, one beautiful morning when the wild peachwas in bloom, Beth Kent had ridden by his side. Dave would have givenhim the animal out of hand. Van compelled him to receive a marketprice. Even ponies here were valuable, and Dave had been poor all hislife.

  "Say, Van," he drawled, when at length the transaction was complete,"this camp has set me to thinkin'. It's full of these rich galoots,all havin' an easy time. If ever I git a wad of dough I'm comin' hereand buy five dollars worth of good sardines and eat 'em, every one.Never have had enough sardines in all my life."

  "I'd buy them for you now and sit you down," said Van, "only why starta graveyard with a friend?"

  Some woman who had come and gone from Goldite had disposed of abeautiful side saddle, exposed in the hay-yard to the weather. Vanpaid fifty dollars and became its owner. The outfit for Beth was sooncomplete. He ordered the best of feed and attention for herroan--bills to be rendered to himself--and hastening off to thejeweler's, found his pin ready and reposing in a small blue box.Avoiding a number of admiring friends, he slipped around a corner, andonce more appeared at Mrs. Dick's.

  Beth was in the dining-room, alone. Her papers were spread upon thetable. She was flushed with the day's excitements,

  Van had entered unannounced. His active tread upon the carpet of thehall had made no sound. When he halted in the doorway, transfixed bythe beauty of the face he saw reflected in the sideboard mirroropposite, Beth was unconscious of his presence.

  She was busily gathering up her documents. Her pretty hands weremoving lightly on the table. Her eyes were downcast, focused where sheworked. Only the wondrous addition of their matchless brown, thoughtVan, was necessary to complete a picture of the most exquisiteloveliness he had ever beheld.

  He had come there prepared to be sedate--at least not over-bold again,or too presumptuous. Already, however, a riot of love was in hisveins. He loved as he fought--with all his strength, with a tidalimpetuosity that could scarcely understand resistance or imaginedefeat. To restrain himself from a quick descent upon her position anda boyish sweeping of her up in his powerful arms was taxing the utmostof his self-control. Then Beth glanced up at the mirror.

  The light of her eyes seemed to liquify his heart. He felt that mad,joyous organ spread abruptly, throughout his entire being.

  She rose up suddenly and turned to greet him.

  "Why--Mr. Van!" she stammered, flushing rosily. "I _heard_ you were intown."

  He came towards her quietly enough, the jeweler's box in his hand.

  "I called before," he answered in his off-hand way. "You must havebeen out with poor old Searle."

  "Oh," she said, "poor old Searle? Why poor?"

  "I told you why before," he said boldly, in spite of himself. He wasstanding before her by the table, looking fairly into her eyes, withthat dancing boyishness amazingly bright in his own. "You remember,too--you can't forget."

  The flush in her cheeks increased. Her glance was lowered.

  "You didn't give me time to--rebuke you for that," she answered,attempting to assume a tone of severity. "You had no right--it wasn'tnice or like you in the least."

  "Yes it was, nice, and like me," he corrected. "I've brought you anugget from the claim." He opened the box and shook out the pin on thetable.

  She had started to make a reply concerning his actions when leaving onthat former occasion. The words were pushed aside.

  "Oh, my!" she said in a little exclamation, instead. "Anugget!--gold!--not from the--not from your claim?"

  His hand slightly trembled.

  "From the 'Laughing Water' claim. Named for the girl I'm going tomarry."

  She gasped, almost audibly. The things he said were so whollyunexpected--so almost naked in their bluntness.

  "The girl--some girl you--Isn't it beautiful?" she faltered helplessly."Of course I don't know--how any girl could have such a singular name."

  "Yes you do," he corrected in his shockingly candid way. "You knowwhen Dave gave her the name."

  "Do I?" she asked weakly, trying to smile, and feeling some wonderful,welcome sort of fear of the passion with which he fairly glowed. "Youare--very positive."

  He moved a trifle closer, touching the pin, with a finger, as she heldit in her hand. His voice slightly shook as he asked:

  "Do you like it?"

  "The pin? Of course. A genuine nugget! You were very kind, I'm sure."

  "I thought when you and I ride over to the claim, some day, you oughtto have a horse of your own," he announced in his manner of finality."So your horse and outfit are over at Charlie's, at your order."

  She looked up at him swiftly. "My horse--over at Charlie's?"

  "Yes, Charlie's--the hay-yard. I thought you liked a side-saddle bestand I found a good one in the hay."

  "But--I haven't any horse," she protested, failing for a moment tograsp his meaning. "How could I have a horse in Goldite?"

  "You couldn't help having him--that's all--any more than you can helphaving me."

  The light in his eyes was far too magnetic for her own brown glance toescape. She hardly knew what she was saying, or what she was thinking.She was simply aflame with happiness in his presence--and she feared hemust read it in her glance. That the horse was his gift shecomprehended all at once--but--what had he said--what was it he hadsaid, that she must answer? Her heart and her mind had coalesced.There was love in both and little of reason in either. She knew he washolding her eyes to his with the sheer force of overwhelming love.

  She tried to escape.

  "You--mean-----"

  He broke all control like a whirlwind.

  "I mean I can't hold it any longer! I love you!--I love you to death!"

  He took her in his arms suddenly, passionately, crushing her almostfiercely against his heart. He kissed her on the lips--once--twice--adozen times in half a minute--feeling the warm, moist softness in thecontact and holding her pliant figure yet more closely.

  She, too, was mad with it all, for a second. Then she began to battlewith his might.

  "Van!--Mr. Van!" she said, pushing his face away with a hand he mighthave devoured. "Let me go! Let me go! How dare---- You shan't! Youshan't! Let me go!"

  Her nature, in revolt for a moment against her better judgment, refusedto do the bidding of her muscles. Then she gathered strength out ofthe whirlwind itself and pushed him away like a tigress.

  "You shan't!" she repeated. "You ought to be ashamed! How dare youtreat me----"

  He had turned abruptly, looking towards the door. Her utterance washalted by his movement of listening. She had barely time to take upher papers, and make an effort at regaining her composure. Bostwickwas coming down the hall. He presently appeared at the door. For amoment there was silence.

  Van was the first to speak.

  "How are you, Searle?" he said cheerily. "Got over your grouch?"

  Bostwick looked him over with ill-concealed loathing.

  "You thought you were clever, I suppose," he said in a growl-like tonethat certainly fitted his face. "What are you doing here, I'd like toknow?"

  "Tottering angels!" said Van, "didn't that experience do you any goodafter all? No wonder the convicts wouldn't have you!"

  Beth was afraid for wh
at Bostwick might have heard. She could notcensure Van for what he had done; she saw he would make noexplanations. At best she could only attempt to put some appearance ofthe commonplace upon the horseman's visit.

  "Mr. Van Buren came--to see Mrs. Dick," she faltered, steadying hervoice as best she might. "They're--very old friends."

  "What's that?" demanded Bostwick, coming into the room and pointing atthe bright nugget pin, lying exposed upon the table. "Some present, Isuppose, for Mrs. Dick?" He started to take it in his hand.

  Van interposed. "It's neither for Mrs. Dick nor for you. It's apresent I've made to Miss Kent."

  Bostwick elevated his brows.

  "Indeed?"

  Beth fluttered in with a word of defense.

  "It's just a little souvenir--that's all--a souvenir of--of my escapefrom those terrible men."

  "And Searle's return," added Van, who felt the very devil in his veinsat sight of Bostwick helpless and enraged.

  Searle opened his lips as if to fling out something of his wrath. Heheld it back and turned to Beth.

  "It will soon be night. We have much to do. I suppose I may see you,privately--even here?"

  Beth was helpless. And in the circumstances she wished for Van to go.

  "Certainly," she answered, raising her eyes for a second to thehorseman's, "--that is--if----"

  "Certainly," Van answered cordially. "Good-by." He advanced and heldout his hand.

  She gave him her own because there was nothing else to do--and thetingling of his being made it burn. She did not dare to meet his gaze.

  "So long, Searle," he added smilingly. "Better turn that grouch out topasture."

  Then he went.