Part 11 (1/2)

”You'd better go or I----”

”What's your business here?” a crisp voice interrupted from the door.

”Steve!”

With the startled whisper the stiffening departed from Jerry's knees.

She sank back in her chair. The stranger wheeled with military precision then, in a startled voice laden with pride and affection, cried:

”_Comment ca va, mon Lieutenant!_”

”Carl! Oh boy, Carl, where did you come from?”

The undertone in Courtlandt's voice brought the tears stinging to Jerry's eyes. Steve gripped the stranger's hand as though he would never let it go. The two patted one another's shoulders with their free hands and beamed with suspiciously bright eyes.

”What good wind blew you here, Beechy?” Steve demanded. ”Jerry, this is Carl Beechy, who was my top sergeant in France. That scar he wears was intended for me, and--and--he took it. Carl, this is my--this is Mrs.

Courtlandt.”

”Mrs. Courtlandt! Your wife, Lieutenant? _C'est drole, ca!_ I--I--thought----” The girl had never seen such contrition as clouded Beechy's eyes as they met hers. There was not a trace of recklessness in them now; they were frankly pleading. She hesitated for a moment, then smiled.

”I'm glad that you came to the Double O, Sergeant Beechy. It was fortunate that you arrived when you did, Steve. Mr. Beechy was just going. You--you might not have recognized him had you met him on the road.” Her lips twitched traitorously as her glance flashed to the ink-well on the desk.

Beechy's eyes sent her a wireless of pa.s.sionate grat.i.tude and admiration. Then he turned to Courtlandt.

”You are the last person I expected to see here, Lieutenant.”

”Weren't you looking for me, Carl? I told you----”

”I know, you told me to look you up, but--two years is a long time and I've found men forget. I went to Mexico after I left hospital. I've been drifting till now----” He broke off the sentence sharply. His face had the curious look which tanned skin has when the blood has been drawn away from it. Jerry could have sworn that there was fright in his eyes.

Did Steve see what she saw? Evidently not, for he exclaimed:

”When you didn't turn up I thought you'd re-enlisted.”

”Me! Nothing doing, Lieutenant. The next time my country calls it'll have to call so loud that I'll hear it at the other end of the world.

No, me and the U.S.A. is through.”

”That's fool talk, Beechy. I've heard it before. If you were needed you and every man who talks like you would be the first to answer the call to the colors. I know you. You jumped in at the first sign of trouble.

You'd do it again. Well, there's a job for you right here.”

The man's lips stiffened. A look of dog-like devotion flooded his eyes.

”That's just like you, but--but I can't take it, Lieutenant. I've signed up for--for something else, and you know--there's--there's honor among thieves,” with a strained attempt at levity which was belied by his eyes. He looked at Jerry. ”I never knew what a man could be till I met the Lieutenant, Mrs. Courtlandt. I'd always thought that a rich guy was bound to be soft, but he's tested steel. I've got to beat it this minute. I--I was telling your wife when I came in, Lieutenant, that I was looking for the railroad and took the ranch road by mistake.”

”But you can't go, Beechy. Good Lord, man, you've got to eat somewhere, at least stop for chow. Come along to the bunk-house. I want the boys to know you.” He turned to Jerry. ”Did you get hold of Pete?”

”No, I couldn't reach him. I--I thought that it was he when Mr. Beechy appeared.”

”Let it go then.” He looked at her keenly. ”Have you been out of the office this week? I thought not,” as she colored faintly. ”Don't do any more work to-day--please. Let's go, Carl.”

Beechy turned to Jerry. He twisted his hat awkwardly in his big hands.