The Max Brand Megapack. Max Brand
“All right, Haines,” said Silent. “You c’n start now any time, an’ the rest of us’ll follow on the way I said. I’m leavin’ last. I got a little job to finish up with the kid.”
But Haines was staring fixedly down the road.
“I’m not leaving yet,” said Haines. “Look!”
He turned to one of the cowpunchers.
“Who’s the girl riding up the road, pardner?”
“That calico? She’s Kate Cumberland—old Joe’s gal.”
“I like the name,” said Haines. “She sits the saddle like a man!”
Her pony darted off from some imaginary object in the middle of the road, and she swayed gracefully, following the sudden motion. Her mount came to the sudden halt of the cattle pony and she slipped to the ground before Morgan could run out to help. Even Lee Haines, who was far quicker, could not reach her in time.
“Sorry I’m late,” said Haines. “Shall I tie your horse?”
The fast ride had blown colour to her face and good spirits into her eyes. She smiled up to him, and as she shook her head in refusal her eyes lingered a pardonable moment on his handsome face, with the stray lock of tawny hair fallen low across his forehead. She was used to frank admiration, but this unembarrassed courtesy was a new world to her. She was still smiling when she turned to Morgan.
“You told my father the boys wouldn’t wear guns today.”
He was somewhat confused.
“They seem to be wearin’ them,” he said weakly, and his eyes wandered about the armed circle, pausing on the ominous forms of Hal Purvis, Bill Kilduff, and especially Jim Silent, a head taller than the rest. He stood somewhat in the background, but the slight sneer with which he watched Whistling Dan dominated the entire picture.
“As a matter of fact,” went on Morgan, “it would be a ten man job to take the guns away from this crew. You can see for yourself.”
She glanced about the throng and started. She had seen Dan.
“How did he come here?”
“Oh, Dan?” said Morgan, “he’s all right. He just pulled one of the prettiest shootin’ stunts I ever seen.”
“But he promised my father—” began Kate, and then stopped, flushing.
If her father was right in diagnosing Dan’s character, this was the most critical day in his life, for there he stood surrounded by armed men. If there were anything wild in his nature it would be brought out that day. She was almost glad the time of trial had come.
She said: “How about the guns, Mr. Morgan?”
“If you want them collected and put away for a while,” offered Lee Haines, “I’ll do what I can to help you!”
Her smile of thanks set his blood tingling. His glance lingered a little too long, a little too gladly, and she coloured slightly.
“Miss Cumberland,” said Haines, “may I introduce myself? My name is Lee.”
She hesitated. The manners she had learned in the Eastern school forbade it, but her Western instinct was truer and stronger. Her hand went out to him.
“I’m very glad to know you, Mr. Lee.”
“All right, stranger,” said Morgan, who in the meantime had been shifting from one foot to the other and estimating the large chances of failure in this attempt to collect the guns, “if you’re going to help me corral the shootin’ irons, let’s start the roundup.”
The girl went with them. They had no trouble in getting the weapons. The cold blue eye of Lee Haines was a quick and effective persuasion.
When they reached Jim Silent he stared fixedly upon Haines. Then he drew his guns slowly and presented them to his comrade, while his eyes shifted to Kate and he said coldly: “Lady, I hope I ain’t the last one to congratulate you!”
She did not understand, but Haines scowled and coloured. Dan, in the meantime, was swept into the saloon by an influx of the cowpunchers that left only Lee Haines outside with Kate. She had detained him with a gesture.
CHAPTER VI
LAUGHTER
“Mr. Lee,” she said, “I am going to ask you to do me a favour. Will you?”
His smile was a sufficient answer, and it was in her character that she made no pretext of misunderstanding it.
“You have noticed Dan among the crowd?” she asked, “Whistling Dan?”
“Yes,” he said, “I saw him do some very nice shooting.”
“It’s about him that I want to speak to you. Mr. Lee, he knows very little about men and their ways. He is almost a child among them. You seem—stronger—than most of the crowd here. Will you see that if trouble comes he is not imposed upon?”
She flushed a little, there was such a curious yearning in the eyes of the big man.
“If you wish it,” he said simply, “I will do what I can.”
As he walked beside her towards her horse, she turned to him abruptly.
“You are very different from the men I have met around here,” she said.
“I am glad,” he answered.
“Glad?”
“If you find me different, you will remember me, whether for better or worse.”
He spoke so earnestly that she grew grave. He helped her to the saddle and she leaned a little to study him with the same gentle gravity.
“I should like to see you again, Mr. Lee,” she said, and then in a little outburst, “I should like to see you a lot! Will you come to my house sometime?”
The directness, the sudden smile, made him flinch. His voice was a trifle unsteady when he replied.
“I shall!” He paused and his hand met hers. “If it is possible.”
Her eyebrows raised a trifle.
“Is it so hard to do?”
“Do not ask me to explain,” he said, “I am riding a long way.”
“Oh, a ‘long-rider’!” she laughed, “then of course—” She stopped abruptly. It may have been imagination, but he seemed to start when she spoke the phrase by which outlaws were known to each other. He was forcing his eyes to meet hers.
He said slowly: “I am going on a long journey. Perhaps I will come back. If I am able to, I shall.”
He dropped his hand from hers and she remained silent, guessing at many things, and deeply moved, for every woman knows when a man speaks from his soul.
“You will not forget me?”
“I shall never forget you,” she answered quietly. “Good-bye, Mr. Lee!”
Her hand touched his again, she wheeled, and rode away. He remained standing with the hand she had grasped still raised. And after a moment, as he had hoped, she turned in the saddle and waved to him. His eyes were downward and he was smiling faintly when he re-entered the saloon.
Silent sat at a table with his chin propped in his hand—his left hand, of course, for that restless right hand must always be free. He stared across the room towards Whistling Dan. The train of thoughts which kept those ominous eyes so unmoving must be broken. He sat down at the side of his chief.
“What the hell?” said the big man, “ain’t you started yet?”
“Look here, Jim,” said Haines cautiously, “I want you to lay off on this kid, Whistling Dan. It won’t meant anything to you to raise the devil with