Part 15 (1/2)

”It's more of a wonder than you know,” replied Kelley. ”I was headed right plumb that way till I was seventeen. My mother had it all picked out fer me. Then I broke away.”

Harford, with the instinctive caution of the plainsman, pursued the subject no further. He was content to know that for a very moderate wage he had secured the best man with horses that the stable had ever known. His only anxiety related to the question of keeping his find.

”Kelley's too good to be permanent,” he said to his wife that night.

”He'll skip out with one of the best saddle-horses some night, or else he'll go on a tearing drunk and send the whole outfit up in smoke. I don't understand the cuss. He looks like the usual hobo out of a job, but he's as abstemious as a New England deacon. 'Pears like he has no faults at all.”

Anita had been attracted to Kelley, lowly as he looked, and, upon hearing his singular virtues recounted by her husband, opened her eyes in augmented interest. All the men in her world were rough. Her father drank, her brothers fought and swore and cheated, and her husband was as free of speech in her presence as if she were another kind of man, softening his words a little, but not much. Therefore, the next time she met Kelley she lingered to make conversation with him, rejoicing in his candid eyes and handsome face. She observed also that his s.h.i.+rt was clean and his tie new. ”He looks almost like a soldier,” she thought, and this was her highest compliment.

Surrounded as she was by gamblers, horse-jockeys, cattle-buyers, and miners, all (generally speaking) of the same slouchy, unkempt type, she recognized in the officers of the fort gentlemen of highest breeding and radiant charm. Erect, neat, brisk of step, the lieutenants on parade gave off something so alien, yet so sweet, that her heart went out to them collectively, and when they lifted their caps to her individually, she smiled upon them all with childish unconsciousness of their dangerous qualities.

Most of the younger unmarried men took these smiles to be as they were, entirely without guile. Others spoke jestingly (in private) of her att.i.tude, but were inclined to respect Harford's reputation as a gunman.

Only the major himself was reckless enough to take advantage of the young wife's admiration for a uniform.

Kelley soon understood the situation. His keen eyes and sensitive ears informed him of the light estimation in which his employer's wife was held by the major; but at first he merely said, ”This is none of your funeral, Kelley. Stick to your currycomb. Harford is able to take care of his own.”

This good resolution weakened the very next time Anita met him and prettily praised him. ”Mr. Harford says you are the best man he ever had, and I think that must be so, for my pony never looked so clean and s.h.i.+ny.”

Kelley almost blushed, for (as a matter of faithful history) he had spent a great deal of time brus.h.i.+ng bay Nellie. She did indeed s.h.i.+ne like a bottle, and her harness, newly oiled and carefully burnished, glittered as if composed of jet and gold.

”Oh, that's all right; it's a part of my job,” he replied, as carelessly as he could contrive. ”I like a good horse”--”and a pretty woman,” he might have added, but he didn't.

Although Anita lingered as if desiring a word or two more, the tall hostler turned resolutely away and disappeared into the stable.

Bay Nellie, as the one dependable carriage-horse in the outfit of broncos, had been set aside for the use of Anita and her friends, but Kelley had orders from Harford to let the mare out whenever the women did not need her, provided a kindly driver was a.s.sured, and so it happened that the wives of the officers occasionally used her, although none of them could be called friends or even acquaintances of little Mrs. Harford.

Kelley observed their distant, if not contemptuous, nods to his employer's wife as they chanced to meet her on the street, but he said no word, even when some of the town loafers frankly commented on it. He owed nothing to Harford. ”It's not my job to defend his wife's reputation.” Nevertheless, it made him hot when he heard one of these loafers remark: ”I met the old major the other evening driving along the river road with Harf's wife. Somebody better warn the major, or there'll be merry h.e.l.l and a military funeral one of these days.”

”I reckon you're mistaken,” said Kelley.

”Not by a whole mile! It was dark, but not so dark but that I could see who they were. They were in a top buggy, drivin' that slick nag the old man is so choice about.”

”When was it?” asked Kelley.

”Night before last. I met 'em up there just at the bend of the river.”

Kelley said no more, for he remembered that Anita had called for the horse on that date just about sundown, and had driven away alone. She returned alone about ten--at least, she drove up to the stable door alone, but he recalled hearing the low tones of a man's voice just before she called.

It made him sad and angry. He muttered an imprecation against the whole world of men, himself included. ”If I hadn't seen her--if I didn't know how sweet and kind and pretty she was--I wouldn't mind,” he said to himself. ”But to think of a little babe like her--” He checked himself.

”That old c.o.c.kalorum needs killing. I wonder if I've got to do it?” he asked in conclusion.

II

Harford came home the next day, and for several weeks there was no further occasion for gossip, although Kelley had his eyes on the major so closely that he could neither come nor go without having his action a.n.a.lyzed. He kept close record of Anita's coming and going also, although it made him feel like a scoundrel whenever she glanced at him.

He was sure she was only the thoughtless child in all her indiscretions, with a child's romantic admiration of a handsome uniform.

”I'll speak to her,” he resolved. ”I'll hand her out a word of warning just to clear my conscience. She needs a big brother or an uncle--some one to give her a jolt, and I'll do it!”

The opportunity came one day soon after Harford's return, but his courage almost failed at the moment of meeting, so dainty, so small, so charming, and so bird-like did the young wife seem.

She complimented him again on the condition of the mare and asked, timidly, ”How much does my husband pay you?”