Part 28 (1/2)
”Sure!” he said, and grinned again.
”I have it!” cried Bowles. ”Mrs. Lee wrote back and told her sister I was here--and then my aunt began telegraphing! That telegram Mrs. Lee had was from her!”
”Sure thing,” agreed Brig; and Bowles looked up to find him smirking.
”Well, what's the matter?” he demanded. ”Say, you're pretty smart, aren't you, Brig?” he observed, with pitying scorn. ”They don't put one over on you very often, do they?”
”No, indeedy!” swaggered Brigham; and then they both laughed--to themselves. But the jest put an effectual end to the discussion, since Brigham did not know what it was he was supposed to have discovered, and Bowles took no pains to enlighten him. It was enough that Brig considered him a very gay dog indeed, and he did not deny the soft impeachment. So, each with his satisfied smile, they jogged along across the plains, dragging their pack animal behind them and heading for the Bat Wing.
All that day they rode on through the mellow suns.h.i.+ne, and the next morning found them still on their way; but just as the well-remembered ranch came into view there was a rattle of wheels from behind and they swung out to give Henry Lee the road. He was driving the fiery grays, and they fought gamely against the delay, but he pulled them down to a walk while he handed Bowles a note.
”Telegram for you, Mr. Bowles,” he said. ”Brig, stop at the ranch when you go by--I want to talk with you.”
There was much more that might have been said, and Mrs. Lee smiled approvingly at Bowles, but the grays were within sight of the haystack and they cut the talk short with a bolt. Then Bowles glanced through the telegram and thrust it into his s.h.i.+rt.
”My aunt----” he began, and as the grin on Brig's face widened, he stopped short and fell into a sulk. ”No use telling you anything, Brig,”
he said at last; ”you can guess by the color of my eye.”
”Sure!” said Brig, after a moment of baffled silence. ”Yore aunt seems to think a whole lot of you. And, speakin' about women-folks, what's this comin' down off the hill?”
He nodded at the foothills to the west, and as Bowles gazed he saw Dixie Lee coming down the broad slope like an arrow. She was riding Wa-ha-lote, too, and at sight of that n.o.ble charger the heart of Bat Wing Bowles became sad--or perhaps it was at sight of Dixie. However that may be, he continued on his way with melancholy resignation; while Brig viewed her coming with alarm.
”Here's where I ketch h.e.l.l fer somethin'!” he muttered, as she sighted him from afar; and when she rode up and faced him he hung his head like a truant.
”You Brig!” she said at last, whipping the hair from her eyes with one hand, ”you haven't got git-up enough in you to win an Indian squaw!
You'll make a lovely husband for somebody, and that's a fact--the way you do your courting. Who do you think is up to the big house waiting for you?”
”Huh?” demanded Brig, now suddenly all attention.
”Well, she's been there for more than a day--while you were out shooting prairie-dogs. What she sees in you is more than I can say, but----”
”Who're ye talkin' about?” barked Brigham, throwing loose his leading-rope.
”I'm talking about your girl,” answered Dixie with Spartan directness.
”Here, I'll lead your pack--go ahead and show her your dust.”
”I'll do that,” said Brig, leaning forward as she spoke; and, pa.s.sing over the rope, he went spurring up the road.
Dixie Lee gave Bowles a level look from beneath her tumbled hair, and touched Wa-ha-lote with the spur. Her manner seemed to be a disclaimer of any responsibility for their being left together, and yet somehow it was very obvious that the stage had been set for an interview. But if Dixie had any intentions, she concealed them effectually, and her manner was one of good-natured tolerance.
”Well, look at that crazy fool ride,” she observed, as Brig disappeared in his own dust. ”You'd think from the way he travels he was the keenest lover in the world.” She paused here and laughed to herself.
”Yes, indeed!” responded Bowles, with a certain brotherly pride. ”Old Brig thinks a lot of that girl.”
”Well, maybe he does,” conceded Dixie; ”but he certainly makes me provoked. I declare, the way some of these men----” she paused again and bit her lip. Mr. Bowles was one of those men, too. ”I reckon it's all right,” she continued resignedly; ”but when a woman has to ride clear over to the Gila, and propose for a man, and steal his girl for him, and then round him up and send him in, I guess she has some excuse to speak her mind. Don't you think so, Mr. Bowles? Well, then, if your friend Brigham had had his way, he would have hit for the summit of the White Mountains, and his girl would have been married to a Mormon! It makes me mad, Mr. Bowles, I declare it does! The idea of leaving that poor little girl over there and never going near her, when all the time she was begging him to come back, and her folks were reading her letters. She couldn't _write_ it to him--she had to _tell_ him--and he never showed up at all. Please don't apologize for him, Mr. Bowles; I'm sure there's not a word to be said.”
Mr. Bowles bowed his head and felt very humble indeed, as if he, too, in some inexplicable way, had erred and been rebuked.
”And now,” said Dixie at last, ”Father'll make Mr. Brig his wagon-boss, and they'll get married and live at the ranch. Simple, isn't it?”