Part 23 (2/2)
He doped it all out that day. I followed him when he quit you there on the trail, an' watched him plan out the route they'd take with the horses. Then I done some plannin' of my own. That's why we was able to head 'em off so handy. We didn't get Bethune an' Clendenning but I'll get 'em yet.”
They had mounted and were riding toward Samuelson's. ”Maybe he's made his escape across the line,” ventured the girl, after a long silence.
Holland shook his head: ”No, he ain't across the line. He don't think we savvy he was in on the raid, an' he'll stick around the hills an'
prob'ly put a crew to work on his claim.” He relapsed into silence, and as they rode side by side, under the cover of her hat brim, Patty found opportunity to study the lean brown face.
”Where's your gun?” The man asked the question abruptly, without removing his eyes from the fore-trail.
”I left it home. I only carried it once or twice. It's heavy, and anyway it was silly to carry it, I don't even know how to fire it, let alone hit anything.”
”If it's too heavy on your belt you can carry it on your saddle horn.
I'll show you how to use it--an' how to shoot where you hold it, too.
Mrs. Samuelson ain't as husky as you are, an' she can wipe a gnat's eye with a six-gun, either handed. Practice is all it takes, an'----”
”But, why should I carry it? Bethune would hardly dare harm me, and anyway, now that he thinks he has stolen my secret, he wouldn't have any object in doing so.”
”You're goin' to keep on huntin' your dad's claim, ain't you?”
”Of course I am! And I'll find it, too.”
”An', in the meantime, what if Bethune finds out he's been tricked?
These French breeds go crazy when they're mad--an' he'll either lay for you just to get even, or he'll see that he gets the right dope next time--an' maybe you know what that means, an' maybe you don't--but I do.”
The girl nodded, and as the horses scrambled up the steep slope of a low divide, her eyes sought the hundred and one hiding places among the loose rocks and scrub that might easily conceal a lurking enemy, and she shuddered. As they topped the divide, both reined in and sat gazing silently down the little valley before them. It was the place of their first meeting, when the girl, tired, and lost and discouraged, had dismounted upon that very spot and watched the unknown horseman with his six-shooter, and his brown leather jug slowly ascend the slope. She glanced at him now, as he sat, rugged and lean, with his eyes on the little valley. He was just the same, grave and unsmiling, as upon the occasion of their first meeting. She noticed that he held his Stetson in his hand, and that the wind rippled his hair. ”Just the same,” she thought--and yet--. She was aware that her heart was pounding strangely, and that instead of a fear of this man, she was conscious of a wild desire to throw herself into his arms and cry with her face against the bandage that bulged the s.h.i.+rt sleeve just below the shoulder.
”I call this Lost Creek,” said Holland, without turning his head. ”I come here often--” and added, confusedly, ”It's a short cut from my camp to the trail.”
Patty felt an overpowering desire to laugh. She tried to think of something to say: ”I--I thought you were a desperado,” she murmured, and giggled nervously.
”An' I thought you was a schoolma'am. I guess I was the first to change my mind, at that.”
Patty felt herself blus.h.i.+ng furiously for no reason at all: ”But--I have changed my mind--or I wouldn't be here, now.”
Vil Holland nodded: ”I expect I'll ride to town from Samuelson's. My jug's empty, an' I guess I might's well file that homestead 'fore someone else beats me to it. I've got a hunch maybe I'll be rollin' up that cabin--before snow flies.”
CHAPTER XVII
UNMASKED
At the Samuelson's ranch they found not only the doctor but Len Christie. Mr. Samuelson's condition had taken a sudden turn for the better and it was a jubilant little group that welcomed Patty as she rode up to the veranda. Vil Holland had muttered an excuse and gone directly to the bunk house where the doctor sought him out a few minutes later and attended to his wound. From the top of ”Lost Creek”
divide, the ride had been made almost in silence. The cowboy's reference to his jug had angered the girl into a moody reserve which he made no effort to dispel.
The news of Patty's rescue from the horse herd had preceded her, having been recounted by the Samuelson riders upon their return to the ranch, and Mrs. Samuelson blamed herself unmercifully for having allowed the girl to venture down the valley alone. Which self-accusation was promptly silenced by Patty, who gently forced the old lady into an arm chair, and called her Mother Samuelson, and seated herself upon the step at her feet, and a.s.sured her that she wouldn't have missed the adventure for the world.
”We'll have a jolly little dinner party this evening,” beamed Mrs.
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